Persona 5: Daywatch

Monday, 11 July 2016
Early Afternoon
Shujin, Class 2-D

Hashida marched up the left-most aisle between desks, his hands folded behind his back. As his feet pounded over the floor, he recited, "I thought of thinking of thanking you!" The students sat, riveted with fear. He reached the front of the room and spun around with a precision the transfer student didn't think overweight people had. His dark eyes swept over the room before stopping on the sole natural blonde in school. "Takamaki, repeat!"

Responding with the rote procedure Hashida drilled into the class in the weeks since his arrival, Ann stepped out of her seat, back straight and hands at her sides. "I thought of thinking of thanking you!"

He stared into her, tense seconds stretching by as his gaze bored into hers. "Correct!"

Ann let out a relieved breath and slumped back into her seat.

Hashida held his precise poise, eyes sweeping over the class. "The fricative is one of the most common sounds Japanese are made fun of overseas for getting wrong!" He drew in a breath, his glare daring anyone in the class to so much as make a breath out of line. "Not one of you will be allowed out of my class with such a shame! You are students of Shujin! You are students of Hashida! We shall triumph!"

Akira's phone buzzed in his jacket. Reflex brought his hand up and eyes down to check it. Despite halting the action a fraction of a second in, that was still enough to draw the English teacher's attention.

"Kurusu!" He stormed to the head of the transfer student's column of desks. "She sells sea shells by the sea shore!"

Akira swallowed. He should have this. He studied with Ann. Akira stood. "She sells sea shells by the sea shole!"

"Wrong!" Hashida howled. The transfer student would've sworn that one word was just a decibel short of knocking him over. His piercing gaze snapped to the right side of the room. "Kanze! If you think this is so easy, tell the class what he did wrong!"

The boy quivered in his seat. "H-he, uh…"

"Answer properly!" Hashida bellowed.

Kanze jumped from his seat, banging his desk and knocking the pencil from it. "H-he used the wrong consonant!"

Hashida let a beat pass before he nodded. "Correct! Though the exercise was to test alveolar and post-alveolar sounds, Kurusu's last recitation used the wrong glide. Broadcast Japanese uses a range of what linguists call a liquid consonant. English separates them in two…"

He snatched the chalk and went on for several minutes until the class bell rang.

Morgana peered at the transfer student from the shelter of the desk. "Who was that message from?"

Akira pulled out his smart phone, the buzz from before Hashida-sensei's tongue-lashing forgotten until the leader's reminder. A new text message waited for him, but four boxes filled with paired numbers sat where the sender ID should have been.

[I am Alibaba. I have a question for the Phantom Thief.]

His breath caught in his throat. Akira hit respond and sent, [Who is this?]

Three dots pulsed in front of four blocks of paired numbers. [Is it true you can steal hearts?]

[Is this a joke, O Master of Boring Class Administration?]

Morgana craned his neck to peer out and he whispered over the between-class conversation, "I don't think that's from your class rep."

Three dots winked beside the boxed-in numbers. [I already told you, I am Alibaba. Rumor has it the Phantom Thief can change the heart of anyone. Kaneshiro. Madarame. I have a heart for you to change. I can provide you with any form of recompense you desire.]

Akira turned in his seat to the class representative. "Okay, Mishima. Ha ha," he said, droll. "You can do funny things with computers."

Mishima looked up, his chemistry work book open and pencil scratching as he raced to finish today's homework. "Huh?"

A strange feeling tickled the back of Akira's head as he glanced at the strange text conversation on his phone. "You're really trying to say you're not joking?" The phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the representative's hands, filled with a pencil and block eraser. That tickle down the back of his neck intensified and he turned in his seat to read the new message.

[I can't stress the critical importance of this heart change. Can you do it?]

Akira glanced down to the team leader.

Morgana gave what shrug he could from within the desk and whispered, "Play it off? This has to be a prank."

With a clear plan ahead, Akira typed, [I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a student.] After a minute of no response, he sent, [Who are you?]

Or tried to. When he tapped the send button, a message window informed him 'message undeliverable' and dropped the focus at an empty send address. Before he could ponder what happened, the class door slid open and Hiruta-sensei strode in.

Monday, 11 July 2016
After School
Shujin, Class 2-D

As the last of the first wave of escapees fled the classroom, Akira turned around. "Hey, Mishima. Can smart phones be hacked?"

The class representative sat up in his seat, a simple boxed lunch of vinegared rice with sliced vegetables and hot dogs sat on his desk. While he still had bags under his eyes, the question drew a sharpness out of them. "Anything a hacker wants to get into can be hacked. Technically, even a computer not on a network can still be hacked if you can get physical access to it. That's the basis of like half the missions in Shadowrun. Why?"

Frowning, Akira reached for his phone, but paused with his hand in his pocket. The team leader seemed confident it was just a minor prank, and the team only had a small window to celebrate Madarame's change in heart before Shujin's own exams started on Wednesday. Alibaba knowing Akira was a Phantom Thief might have been disconcerting if he didn't refer to it as a singular like they'd been messaging to the public. And even though the hacker asked for a heart change, he never gave a target or set any stakes for good or ill. Akira shook his head. It wouldn't be right to ruin everyone's time just for a strange prank. "Just curious."

Monday, 11 July 2016
After School
Yongen, Leblanc

The bell above the door jingled and Ann paused so the transfer student could hold the door for the rest of the Phantom Thieves to file in. The scent of egg mingled with the usual aroma of coffee and that unique curry only Leblanc served.

Sojiro folded his newspaper. "Good day, kids, what can I…?" He paused when his eyes fell on the student council president, then flitted to the transfer student coming in behind. "So, you two are back."

Ryuji looked around. "Huh?"

Makoto bowed. "We didn't properly introduce last time, Master Proprietor-san. I'm Niijima."

Sojiro gave an incline of his head as a smirk tugged at his lips. He stroked his fingers through that neat, chinstrap beard. "No need to be so formal, Niijima-chan. This is a coffee house. The whole point is to relax. Most customers just call me Boss, and that's more than enough."

Mishima elbowed the track star and gave a shallow bow. "I'm Mishima."

Ryuji gave a casual wave. "Yo. Sakamoto, here."

Yusuke gave a bow of his head, but having been introduced back in June, he left it at that.

Ann, the last member of the Phantom Thieves to step in before Akira, flashed a picture-perfect grin. "Takamaki. Prez's gotta make dinner for fam, so we were hoping on celebrating making it to summer with a hot pot instead of eating out and coming back for a video game marathon." She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath through her nose, savoring the rich aroma. "Mmm! There's nothing like a good cup of coffee. Or tiramisu." Her mouth watered.

"That sounds fine." Setting his newspaper on the counter, Sojiro gave a practiced-for-business smile. "Sorry to have missed you kids last time." He scanned the group, his eyes flitting from Makoto to Akira, then to Ann. "So, I'm assuming student council president and…?" He shook his head and shot what might have been intended to be a sly look and smirk at the transfer student. "I hope he's not causing you too much trouble."

Ann's eyes widened, but she wasn't sure if she got the insinuation right so she didn't want to say anything. "Oh, not at all, sir. He's helped us out a bunch."

"I bet you're the ones helping him." Sojiro reached for a book on his side of the counter and opened it up. "Well, you know how to make the coffee and serve the curry, kid."

Akira rolled his eyes. He headed for the sink and grabbed one of the spare aprons. "Do you have a ceramic dish for the hotpot?"

Sojiro pointed low at the kitchen. "If I've got one, it'll be down there for sure. Just be sure to wash it, I haven't used it in years."

Akira nodded, but his eyes fell on the coffee siphons first. "Want some coffee before I get into that?"

Ann threw her hands up in the air. "Totally!" She slid into the middle booth, Makoto in after her. Ryuji and Mishima slipped into the seat opposite, while Yusuke turned around one of the bar seats and plopped down in it.

Makoto scanned the chalk blackboard menu written out years ago. "What exactly is arabica?"

Akira filled a cup with the house blend. "It's the first type of beans used on coffee, as opposed to the robusta variety lots of places cultivate for its greater pest resistance. I don't think the claims about it having a very different flavor hold that much water, though."

"The street's still an option," Sojiro said, his tone so flat the model couldn't be certain whether he was being serious or sarcastic.

Akira paused next to the siphons. "Want some?"

Yusuke lay his arms across his knees. "I wouldn't mind partaking in some of today's house blend. It smells lovely."

Makoto tapped a finger to her chin. "Coffee was always kind of a Mom and Dad thing. I know Big Sis started sneaking some in the morning after she started law school, but I never had any." She wrinkled her nose. "It kind of smells bitter."

Akira filled a cup for Yusuke, then another for Ann. "Most people temper it with cream or sugar."

Makoto lowered her hands to the table, one finger still tapping. "Maybe I'll try some."

Ryuji stretched his arms and slouched in his seat. "This place looks so dif'rent with the lights on. Everythin's old."

Mishima elbowed him. "Ryuji!"

The track star pushed himself up. "I don' mean like I hate it or nothin'."

The class representative brushed hair back from his eyes. "I like it. So many of the places out there in Tokyo have this industrial glass-and-chrome look like all of Mother's kitchen appliances. The wood and warm tones make it feel kind of cozy." He turned in the bench seat to look at the transfer student washing out dishes in the sink so there was room for the pot. "Do you have iced coffee today?"

Akira nodded and ducked into the fridge to shake out a measure of ice, then carried the coffees to their table and handed them out. "Lots of people get that. I call it, 'Do you want some coffee with your cream?'"

Yusuke blew, then took a small sip. "You really should try some darker, though. It has such a depth to its acidity which cream can easily overwhelm."

Makoto took the cup, but stared into it, one finger tapping on the side. "Leblanc… Leblanc… I know I've heard of it somewhere. Was it in a magazine or on TV?"

Sojiro turned a page. "That it was, but that was a long time ago."

"For real?" Ryuji looked around, but with the class representative drinking from his cup, he reached across the table to snag Makoto's and took a drink straight from her cup. His face scrunched up and he turned away from the others. "Blech!"

Makoto snatched her cup back. "Ryuji!" She looked down at the spot where he sipped, an inscrutable expression on her face and the faintest pink on her cheeks.

Sojiro chuckled. "I didn't drink coffee when I was a kid, either."

Ryuji stuck his tongue out, his face still twisted. "It's so effin' bitter!" He turned a glare on the artist. "That's cruel an' unusual punishment, dude! Not cool!"

"There's a portable stove we can plug in upstairs." Akira crouched behind the counter, the sound of metal banging for several moments. "So what are we making the hot pot with?"

"Ginko nuts," Yusuke said, before he took another sip of his black coffee.

Mishima pulled up a cooking site on his phone. "We should probably get the ingredients while Akira's looking for the pot."

Akira gave a victorious shout, then stood up with a big ceramic pot. "Oh! I need to wrestle that stove out and make sure it works!" He set the pot on the inner counter and jogged up the creaking stairs.

Makoto stood, abandoning her coffee. "Right." She looked to Yusuke. "Could you come with us and help carry things?"

His soft gaze lingered on Ann for a moment before he swallowed his mouthful of coffee, stood, and bowed. "How can one do any less than one's utmost for the very pinnacle of mankind?"

When they headed for the door, Ryuji popped up too. "Oh, I'm comin'! We gotta get pork rinds and—" The closing door cut him off.

Ann fished around in her purse for a coin bag, then stepped up to the register. "I'll get the coffee."

Sojiro slipped a bookmark in place and closed his book. "This round's on the house." He set his book down next to the register to give her his full attention. "So… Takamaki-chan. You and Kurusu close?"

She took a step back. "Me and him?" Weeks ago, that might have brought a flush to her face. Now it brought her to a seat at the counter. "It's not that I haven't thought about it, but…" She couldn't think of a way to talk about Kamoshida without also bringing up the Metaverse. She knew Akira snuck the occasional glance out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked straight at her he didn't appraise her like a piece of meat. It was flattering, really. As worried as she was for him after they fought Kamoshida's Shadow, she wondered if there wasn't something there, at least on her side. But the way he'd perk up, or strain just at the hint of a name… it was for Shiho, not her. And he knew it. Was that why he never made a move? "I don't think we'd be too good together."

The coffee shop owner's eyebrow quirked behind his thin glasses for a moment. "Really? He doesn't have a girl." He looked over her in the way adults did when they were trying to pick up on clues without being obvious. "Ah, you and that artist boy…"

She scratched the back of her head. "Yusuke? He's just… really living by his own idiom. He looks at everything like some magical art muse thing."

Sojiro scrutinized her face for a moment before reaching for his book. "I suppose you might be right, there." His fingers lifted the book, then set it back down. "Are you implying a pretty girl like you doesn't have anybody?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Never have." Now that the words were out of her mouth, it just stirred up an unpleasant sense of butterflies in her stomach. She remembered Papa teasing her over the phone back in middle school, "If one has no sweetheart until Pentecost, she will not have it during the whole summer."

A thud echoed from the floor above, and Akira gave an annoyed shout of pain.

Sojiro picked up his book. "School life must sure be different. Back in my day, boys would be coming out of the woodwork to ask a nice girl like you out."

His eyes rested on her pigtails, but it felt nice for someone to mention something other than her looks. "A lot of boys wanted to date me. Not a lot of boys wanted to be my friend." She looked over to the hall past the little kitchen.

Sojiro opened his book. "Well, their loss. You're a nice kid." He gestured his book at the hallway. "Might as well make sure that particular lunk hasn't damaged the stove."

Monday, 11 July 2016
Early Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

Ryuji leaned back in his chair and a little to the side, trying to catch breeze from the oscillating fan in the corner. The savory scents of sauteed enoki and crimini mushrooms weaved with garlic and soy. He patted his belly. "That was amazing, dudes."

Morgana looked across the table to the team's natural blonde, stars almost visible in his eyes. "A delight for the palette and warming in the belly, Lady Ann. You'll make a wonderful bride—"

"Oh, it wasn't all…" Ann managed before her yawn took over. A shiver passed down her before she croaked, "Makoto and Akira helped, too."

"Even so," Mishima said, casting an embarrassed smile at her, his face red, "This is well beyond anything I could do."

Makoto smiled and stood up from her spot next to the model. "You can take the couch for a rest, Ann."

Ann sent a bleary look up at the class president. "Oh, you don't have to—"

Makoto waved her down. "Nonsense, there's plenty of seats."

Akira pointed a gloved hand past the dark-haired artist to the stack next to the railing overlooking the stairs. "You want to grab another chair, Yusuke?"

"No," he answered, tone bland.

Akira snorted with laughter and slapped his knee. "I was starting to think you didn't have a sense of humor, Yusuke-kun."

He blinked. "I wasn't."

Makoto rolled her eyes and strode past him. "Never mind, I'll get one myself."

Mishima stood up. "Don't trouble yourself, Senpai. Take mine, I'll get another."

The issue out of his mind, Yusuke turned back to the transfer student. "We haven't even gotten to the porridge."

Akira held a hand over his belly. "Oof. Know when to fold, Yusuke. I think we've all had as much as we can handle, and there's still leftovers."

Ann placed her folded hoodie on the arm, lay down, and slipped into quiet, rhythmic breathing in moments.

"Yeah, dude," Ryuji said, his tone hushed as he watched Ann. "No surprise she's tired with doing all she can to keep up with us as a Phantom Thief, workin', studyin', an' visitin' Shiho at the hospital all the time. I guess that's whatcha do for middle school besties."

Yusuke crossed his right leg over his knee and brushed at the trouser leg. "You knew her in middle school?"

Morgana sat on the corner of the table, his tail curling around his feet. "What was Lady Ann like?"

Ryuji shrugged, but his tone remained below his usual boisterous conversational level. "Pretty much like now, I guess. We went into different classes once we started goin' to Shujin, so it's not like we've been keepin' tabs." He scratched the back of his head. "Maybe I shoulda. Even in middle school, she had like no friends. I guess that just came with movin' in from outta country. The popular kids always whipped out the passive-aggressive claws whenever she was around. She was hot even then, but the only dudes I 'member tryin' to talk to her were pervs who thought they could get straight in her pants."

Yusuke sat back in his chair as if the sentiment emanated a bad odor. "How repugnant. A flower is meant to be marveled and cherished, not trampled." He let out a long breath through his nose, then focused his dark grey eyes fell on the student council president. "What of the mademoiselle?"

Makoto fidgeted under the artist's piercing gaze. "My father died a year ago, during an investigation, and Mom a while before that. Big Sis had to shoulder the burden of taking care of me. I thought the best way to help her was to work hard, get my commendations, go to a good college… basically fulfill everyone's expectations of me." She rubbed her bicep and looked down. "I felt like I was drowning, and ended up closing my eyes to the world." Her jaw set. "Until the Phantom Thieves stole Kamoshida's heart. If they could change the heart of a teacher who betrayed his students, I resolved to make them change the heart of those behind the scams and drug dealing I couldn't… didn't do anything to change myself."

Ryuji grinned. "Not like anyone woulda listened to ya even after Shiho. An' you sure came through with Kaneshiro. Plus, that tank bike you got is awesome."

"Hmph," Morgana added.

Yusuke nodded. "Quite a step forward from expecting others to fulfill everything in life to doing it for oneself."

Morgana stood. "If you think about it, everybody here found a place here because they were rejected out there in the world." He glanced up at Mishima, sitting down in another chair. "Even him."

The class representative blinked and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Does that mean it's my turn?"

Akira shrugged. "I guess it's time for us all to put it out there. He's probably right—we're all here because we don't really have a home out there."

Mishima scratched his neck, looking away from the others. "I spent most of my life just trying to keep up. Mom and Dad are both kind of workaholics, but they had really high expectations. Some days I felt so afraid of what they'd think I didn't want to come home. When I made the cut into Shujin, I thought they'd finally loosen up. Then my first exam scores came out."

Ryuji snorted, though a melancholic sympathy strained at his face. "For real."

Mishima rubbed his hands and fidgeted for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. "I met Shiho at the first volleyball game after midterms." His eyes went unfocused and he let out a soft breath. "She was the first one to accept me just for trying to be a decent person. I didn't have to be head of the class or basketball captain. And I did everything I could to be there for her too, even if it was too dangerous to do it at school." Red spread over his cheeks. "She was so… sweet and open." His eyes flicked to the snoozing Ann curled up on the couch. "Just like Ann. I felt like Kamoshida ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it when I heard about the jump." Hands clenching, his fists trembled. "I didn't even get there in time to see it." A cough worked out of his throat before he forced himself to look right at the artist. "That's why I've got to help the Phantom Thieves take down all the adults like Kamoshida, or even the ones who enabled them. That's the only way I'll ever make up for letting her down." His gaze fell on Ann and he swallowed.

"To have experienced the love of a maiden is the longing of every man." Yusuke folded his hands on his knee and looked to Ryuji. "What of yourself? What drove you to the Phantom Thieves?"

Ryuji leaned back, tipping his chair on its back legs. "Eh, nothin' special here." The corners of his lips turned down. "No-good dad left when I was little, an' left Ma jumpin' through hoops the rest of her life tryin' to give me a good life." His frown twisted into a pained grimace showing a glimpse of his perfect teeth. "Kamoshida used me to destroy the track team, broke my leg an' pinned the blame on me so everyone thinks I'm some delinquent now." He leaned back on the chair and balanced on the rear legs, but even though his face relaxed, Akira could still see his brows pressing together. "That shitty coach told everyone how my old man drank. I never thought it could be so hard to hold somethin' in." He leaned back further, his chair wobbling before he slammed back down. "Then he called Ma a slut an' I slugged him. School called Ma from work and those effin' teachers raked her over the coals about what a no-good thug I was."

The transfer student watched Ryuji's eyes glisten. "She was quiet… like scary quiet 'til we got off the train for home. Didn't even get all the way outta the platform before she broke down sobbin', sayin' she was sorry. Sorry for bein' a single mom. Sorry for everythin'."

Akira felt a heat behind his own eyes. "No, Ryuji. You were a great son to your mother, trying to keep your grades up at Shujin even after that rapist broke your leg. And even going for that track scholarship to help her out of those payments. You had a good mother to be a son to—she stuck with you and made dinner for you every night, right?"

Makoto brushed tears from her eyes. "I… I had no idea, Saka—Ryuji-kun. I'm so sorry I was one of those no-good students who just believed those terrible things they said about you."

Yusuke sniffed, his expression solemn and posture guarded. "What a cruel lie it is when they say everyone is equal at school. We may have had different underlying reasons, but I understand how you feel in being rejected by the student body."

Mishima coughed into his fist. "Well, I doubt anybody's got it worse than Akira-kun here with labels and rejection."

Makoto nodded. "About his false conviction?" She turned to him, her body's posture casual in a measured sense, but her feet planted on the floor.

Ann, having sat up some time the transfer student wasn't paying attention, pulled the elastic band from her left pigtail and brushed it out. "Come to think of it, I don't think we ever got the deets."

Akira glanced around, feeling his heart beat a little faster as all their eyes fell on him. Still, the others all had the courage to lay out their lives. Maybe this could be like practice for when he told Hifumi. "Mine is a little long, you guys sure you want it?"

Makoto glanced at the others, then to him. "Well, you've never really held back about not having a good relationship with your father. Wasn't your mother a figure you could turn to?"

Crossing his arms, Akira shifted in his chair. It was embarrassing enough letting that slip to Kawakami, he didn't want to burden them with the terrible person his mother was. "Mother was more of a non-presence than anything. Only times she took me in, she wanted more money from the old bastard."

Makoto tilted her head just a little, one eyebrow arched. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"She would text 'Take a bus', and lock me out." Akira shrugged. "I'da never met the Amagis otherwise, though."

Mishima stared, his brown eyes blinking once. "Your mother locked you out? For what?"

Ann re-tied her hair and straightened her shirt. "Knowing some of the models I've subbed with, I can believe that. Some people are so self-absorbed, sometimes they can't even remember their own family exists." She clapped her hands together. "But what about that false conviction? How exactly did that happen? You said it was the one time you didn't get into a fight."

Akira leaned back in his chair, but when the back dug into his spine he stood. He took in a deep breath. "Okay, I'll re-enact it, but you all have to join in at the Tollywood dance scene."

Morgana rolled his eyes. "Eugh. Would you just tell the story, Joker?"

"Fine, fine." Akira slipped his hands into his pockets. "I was reading at Inuri, 'cause the old bastard wouldn't pay for cram school. Up until Shujin, I'd study and read at school until closing pretty often as my way of avoiding my old bastard. Road construction blocked off the usual bike path, so I took another road. Halfway home, I heard a drunk ass-hat trying to force a woman into his car…"

Monday, 18 January 2016
Late Evening
Shinjou City, Back Street

Letting the bike fall to the ground mottled with snow, Akira hopped into a run at the sound of a struggle. Despite the dark of the night, Akira could see the woman's black bra peeking out from the fancy, button-down blouse ripped half-way open. She pushed back against the larger man, but couldn't get his filthy hands off her. Her dark eyes spotted him jogging up the road. "Please, help!"

The drunk in a suit turned, stumbling two steps from the motion, and shot a glare through tinted, frameless glasses. "This ain't a peep show, boy. Get lost!" Something about the strong timber of that voice felt familiar, but he was so sloshed it sounded like everyone at Blue Cove. The stink of alcohol was repulsive and he'd have sworn the alcohol on it made his breath fog longer in the air.

Akira set his book bag down next to a bush under what he guessed was a home window. Turning around was exactly what his mother or old bastard would do. He didn't need to have just converted to Catholicism to know he'd be guilty of what happened if he walked away. Standing up in the face of giants was just like the kind of story Father Motoori would read from the pulpit. "No. Now, let her go."

He bellowed hard enough Akira picked up the sharp whiff of whatever nasty spirit he drank, "You piss-ants just need to follow where I steer this country!" He turned back to the woman struggling to get her wrist out of his hold. He grabbed her already torn blouse with his other hand. "Get in the car!"

Akira jumped forward, grabbing him by the fancy suit. He intended a brief twist so the drunk pervert would have to divide his attention and set the woman free.

Suit stumbled, almost kicking Akira as he flailed in wide motions and fell against the concrete barrier separating the narrow walkway from a car pulled across the right side of the road with both doors hanging open. Suit grunted, clambering up and turning to bare his scuffed chrome dome on the freshman student. A trickle of blood flowed from a tiny cut. "Damn brat. I will bury you!"

The woman's eyes went wide. "I-if you keep this up, I'll report the money!"

Akira stepped back and tugged his gloves on tighter. Another car approached from the road behind him.

The laughter which wracked Suit was not his first expectation. "The police are my bitches. All I have to do is tell them you did it on your own and they take you down for me."

The woman clutched her ripped blouse and thin winter jacket closed, her frame trembling enough to see despite the night. "I… I only followed instructions."

Suit lashed out, one hand grabbing her by the shoulder of her jacket. "Then you'll follow more instructions." White cones of light spilled over them, and the intermittent flash of red joined. "Here's what you tell the cops. Dumb punk over here threw me down."

"Sir?" The first cop out of the patrol car shouted. "And lady, please step apart and against the wall."

Suit snarled and hissed in what Akira assumed was intended to be a whisper, "You know what'll happen if you try anything."

Akira felt like laughing now that he thought he recognized the voice. This was even the chief who sent Blue Cove into a frenzy every time he swung around for inspections? Turning in his old bastard's boss would be icing on the good deed cake. "You're drunk off your ass, old man."

Suit jabbed a finger at Akira, eventually getting it at the target. "Nobody crosses me."

The second cop paced out of the car, straightening his jacket against the chill air. "Sir! Hands where I can…" He took in a quick breath and straightened when Suit turned to him. "S-sir! Is everything all right?"

Suit tugged the jacket hanging on his frame and exuding the sharp, spicy scent of some hard spirits. If he felt the cold at all, he didn't show it. "This alley brat attacked me. I'm pressing charges."

The woman twitched. When Cop Two looked at her, she turned away. "He… th-that young man just came up and shoved him to the ground."

Akira boggled. He just saved her sorry ass. Did she think this was a joke?

Suit cleared his throat and turned his focus to the closer cop. "And keep my name out of this mess. I don't have time for little shits like that. Understood?"

"Sir!" Cop Two drew cuffs and advanced.

Akira backed up, then yanked his bike off the ground. If the cops wanted him, they'd have a chase on their—

Cop One knocked him off the bike and into the wall before he could get his feet on the pedals.

Cop Two slapped the cuffs on Akira's wrists.

Monday, 11 July 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

Akira lowered his hands and sat down in the chair. The foam in the cushion still felt worn thin, but from the stares he assumed sitting down to let them process was the right thing to do. "The next two months were a whirl of jail, like a million interviews where they tried to double-talk me into confessing, and then a kangaroo court. I never saw any of them again. The prosecutor brought out signed statements. He even read the letter of condemnation my old bastard sent."

Ryuji's fists crashed against the table, sending ripples through the remaining hot pot and making all the bowls, spoons, and chopsticks clatter. "Fuck that shit!"

Mishima's eyes looked like they were stuck wide. "The woman who witnessed everything didn't even come to testify? Or the drunk? The accused are legally guaranteed the right to face his accuser."

Akira shrugged. "I never saw her before, so I'd guess she didn't live in the area. And I never saw justice before, so I wasn't surprised not to see master ass-hat absent."

Yusuke crossed his arms and sniffed. "And that horrid woman threw you to the dogs when you came to her defense."

Morgana's wide blue eyes stared into him. "I… I didn't even know it was that bad. That arrogant lecher is precisely the sort of heart the Phantom Thieves need to change. Who is he?"

Akira shrugged again. "Dunno his name. I know my old bastard worked for him, but the researchers at the institute just called him Sir or Chairman. I was always shuffled to a satellite location the two times a year he came around, so it's not like I had many opportunities to hear it."

Makoto crossed her arms as if cold. "Then it may not be possible to find out. Victims' personal information is secret to prevent reprisals. And the rate of overturned convictions is less than one in a million."

Yusuke turned a scrutinizing gaze on the transfer student. "Then there is no way to expunge the black mark on his record, no matter that he is innocent?"

Akira lifted his hands with a casual air. "Just the way the world works. Time goes forward, not backward. It's not like I'm a nice person."

Mishima stood up, his forehead creased. "That's no reason to lock someone up and throw away the key on trumped up charges! If prison was for everyone guilty of any word or deed, we'd all be prisoners."

Ryuji came to his feet too, passion burning in his eyes. "Fuck yeah! This ain't s'posed to be no crapsack world where rotten adults get away with anything they want."

"Not like rotten kids are any better." Akira sat, looking back to the shogi game on his phone.

Seeing the two standing, Yusuke straightened in his seat. "Then we must be as Camilla Hällgren and Banksy to the world, shouting out injustices which must not be accepted and showing what true justice looks like. Just as Da Vinci changed portraiture with the Mona Lisa, we can make the world awaken to the truth."

Ryuji threw a fist in the air. "Eff yeah! I mean, what'a we got powers for if it ain't to use 'em?"

Ann giggled from her seat on the couch. "An artist steeped in Japanese history, a student council president lost in the race to keep up with the Joneses, a falsely convicted would-be doctor. It's hard to imagine all those kinds of people even crossing paths, but here we all are."

Mishima sat down, then nodded. "You're right. All different sectors of society, but all chained by parents or adults betraying us for their own benefit."

Morgana hung his head. "Everyone but me." The other Phantom Thieves turned to look at their morose leader perched on the table next to the hot pot. "I don't have any past to look back on. Even after three Palaces, I recognize the Metaverse and Shadows, but don't remember anything outside."

Folding his hands in his lap, Akira watched the slow swish of the team leader's tail. "Well, we've discovered plenty of weird things in Mementos. Maybe the answer is locked up somewhere in there. Let's be honest, hardly any humans know what they're doing, so it's not like you're out alone in trying to figure out who you are." He grabbed his insulated water bottle, ice clinking within it, and held it up. "We'll figure it out together."

Makoto held up her can of grape soda. "Hear, hear."

Yusuke held up his iced coffee. "Given the tragedies we have persevered through, I am sure your past will be as fraught with peril as the rest of us."

"For real."

Ann held up her own cup of coffee. "Don't worry, Morgana. We'll stick with you."

Morgana's tail stood up. "H-hey, no need to get sappy. I'm just doing this for myself."

The track star burst out laughing and after a few moments, Akira felt it draw chuckles out of himself.

Mishima looked at him for a few moments, then back to the team leader. "I wish I could understand him. I can't tell if he just said something really profound or a joke."

The corners of Makoto's lips pulled up. "It can't be both?" She cleared her throat. "But to be serious, I feel like we've only begun. There are so many corrupt hearts out there, and each one we change means a difference in dozens, maybe hundreds of people's lives."

Making a fist, Ryuji threw his free hand in the air. "Eff yeah! You can say that again. Phantom Thieves are gonna change the world!"

"That again," Akira said with a smirk.

Makoto stood and spun around to glance down the stairs before hissing at the track star, "Would you watch what you're saying! Customers downstairs could get suspicious!" She pulled out her phone. "Although it is getting late. I should be getting home so I have dinner ready in time for Sis. She promised to be home on time today."

Morgana wove through the bowls and condiments to the end of the table closest to the artist. His eyes lingered for a meaningful moment on the easel and paints wrapped in a cloth bundle. "Have you decided what you're going to do now that Madarame's confessed to having stolen all those paintings?"

His face already composed by default, Yusuke's smile thinned and eyes stared out, guarded. "Actually, I have." He stood and bowed, a solemn air pressed down over the group. "You have done more for me than I ever believed anybody would do for another. I grew up for years under the tutelage of an artist who was as much a master of avarice as of the brush, but you all taught me what true kindness feels like." He paused to let their gazes flit about for a moment. "With all of the interactions I will be having with the police over the coming month, I believe it would bring undue risk to Akira-kun's livelihood to remain. As such, I will be moving in with Takamaki-san."

Ryuji shot the artist a leering glance and wiggled his eyebrows at Ann. "Hell yeah. Great opportunity to do that paintin'."

She shot a heated glare at the track star. "Hell no."

Yusuke gave a nod as if he'd just been denied a trivial token. "It was worth a try." When Akira, Makoto and Mishima joined frosty gazes at Yusuke, the artist swallowed and raised his hands. "Be calm, I have a backup plan. I hadn't needed it while living with Sen—Madarame, but with the police having closed off the atelier, I may use my scholarship for use of the dorms. The Madarame Foundation is paying for legal representation, and already petitioned the court to appoint a guardian until I graduate. I've already spoken with him on the phone, and he'll meet me at the dorms to finalize paperwork."

Despite the earlier mood, Ann shifted back and forth on her seat. "Are you sure you're going to be okay, Yusuke? Japan doesn't exactly have the best foster care system in the world."

He nodded and sat. "There is little choice short of adoption into another family. Given the media storm going on right now," he paused to give a nod to Mishima, "what members of the Madarame Foundation who haven't withdrawn or been indicted are desperate for positive publicity, so I believe I can trust them."

Akira tugged at his gloves. "Until they rebrand. Any word back from Kosei about how long until they'll have a dorm room for you?"

"Tomorrow, actually. That is why I have my painting kit packed. I believe they are attempting to curry favor with the general public with a swift, altruistic display. I have been discussing the matter with them over the weekend, and my guardian convinced them a move as soon as possible would be as good for the school's image as it would be for my mental health."

Mishima hummed, though his brows were furrowed and hands clenched together on the table. "We might all need that ourselves. As many lawsuits as Shujin's being hit with, it might not be open next year."

Makoto's fist hit the table hard enough to jostle the chopsticks. "You were supposed to keep that under wraps. It's not certain whether or not that many sponsors will withdraw pledged funds."

Ryuji stared at the class president. "Wait, there's actually somethin' to those rumors that Shujin's bankrupt?"

Makoto glared at him, somehow conveying the aura of somebody twice as tall. "Shujin is not insolvent. And you are not to say one word about the pending lawsuits or Shujin's financial future. The addition of Counselor Maruki's convinced a lot of parents Shujin turned a new leaf." She took her bag and stood. "Anyway, as I said, I do have to be getting home. Try to keep out of trouble." She strode down the stairs.

Ryuji watched her go, eyes locked on her hindquarters until she disappeared downstairs.

Akira threw one of the coasters and hit the track star in the back, then cleared his throat and looked at the assembled. "It probably is too late to hold a video game marathon like last time, but my crash pad is your crash pad. Anybody want to use the bathhouse across the street?"

Ryuji threw an arm in the air. "Aw, yeah! That place's gotta huge bath."