Persona 5: Daywatch

Friday, 15 April 2016
After School
Front Gates of Shujin

Akira turned around, pacing a little oval in the turf between the opening of the building proper and the front gates. Most students ignore his presence, but a red-eyed girl with a braided hairband met eye contact, her gaze narrowing for a moment as if to say, "I see you," before the exiting throng forced her to walk on.

Akira got close to the walkway, several students recognizing him enough to veer away, but he turned back to the lawn and the flow returned to normal. The students buzz with gossip, most irrelevant drivel but one girl amid the exiting stampede asking, "Did you hear what he said to Kamoshida? There's no way!"

At last, a dyed-blond head appeared and Akira stormed to him. "What the hell took you?"

Ryuji's hands drifted out of his pockets and he returned the almost-glare. "Dude, it's only been ten minutes since classes got out."

"Look, it's the two delinquents!"

"At least they'll be expelled soon."

Akira whirled to the gate. "Let's just get going." He paused to take a quick scan of the crowd, but saw no specific people holding attention on him. "I get the weird feeling that girl with the hairband's got me marked."

The two jogged to the train station and caught a ride to Shibuya, coming out to Station Square. When Ryuji trotted into the mass of people without a breath of hesitation, Akira couldn't muster the courage to make an excuse, but the chaotic storm of people spiked his anxiety and he found himself pushing back.

Pausing near the north end of Station Square, Ryuji glanced back and spotted Akira shoving through a salaryman but breathing heavy. The urban veteran raised an eyebrow at the transfer student. "You good?"

Akira grimaced but refused to show weakness. "Let's just get there."

Ryuji shrugged and walked into the crowd towards Central Street.

Akira followed, attempting to keep a straight course but bumped and jostled by the throngs of humanity. When he shoved yet another person out of his way and saw fists on the hands he retracted, he realized his anger was starting to get away from him and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Hearing a shout of dismay, Ryuji paused in front of a bookstore to turn and look back at Akira, bulling through a slow-moving clump of people. The former track star leaned against the brick at the end of the shop and waited for Akira to stop next to him.

The transfer student braced a hand against the glass storefront, shoulders rising and falling as he forced air in and out of his lungs.

"Dude," Ryuji said, eyebrow raised at the pale face and snarl on his fellow student's face. He almost looked ready to bolt. Ryuji stood up to be sure Akira looked at him. "You sure you're okay?"

Akira took a short but clear lunging step at Ryuji, baring his teeth. A beat passed and he withdrew, looking no less haggard. "Is it like this all the time?"

"For real?" Ryuji chuckled, shaking out his shoulders. "This is Shibuya-ku, Tokyo. It ain't even a busy day." When Akira angled away from the crowd, the blond bit down a snort of amusement. "Takamaki wasn't kidding when she said you don't like crowds."

Akira's lip twitched, revealing teeth, but he pulled back. "I don't like the crowds at the school." His eyes scanned the bookstore beyond the window. "I thought I was ready for out and about in general, but I feel like a sardine in a can."

Ryuji laughed. "I know, ain't it great?"

Akira glowered.

Ryuji put up his hands, fighting to keep down a smirk. "I mean, if you're not up to the challenge, I could always—"

Bared teeth and fire blazing in his eyes and stomach, Akira shouted at him, "I am not useless. Failure is—" He bit his tongue to regain control, wincing. "Sorry." Looking up, he noticed a smirk growing on Ryuji's face. "Oh, stop smiling."

Ryuji chuckled and led him the few remaining paces left to the alley. "Well, you made it." He jerked his shoulder at a nearby alley. "Shop's right back here. You know anything about guns?"

Akira blinked. "Never look into the barrel, and if in doubt… it's loaded."

Ryuji tilted his head and looked Akira up and down. "Really? That's it?" When Akira failed to respond, he cleared his throat. "I kinda pictured you as a closet gun nut."

Finally separated from the apathetic mass of humanity, Akira straightened and took in a deep breath. "The closest thing I have to experience with guns is playing Resonance of Fate at Yoshida's."

Ryuji led him to the front door and pushed it open. "At least tell me you know the difference between an automatic and a revolver."

Now Akira shot a baffled look at him. "Are we talking about cars now?"

A wielded, cross-linked grating stretched across the counter, realistic model guns on the far side. Scattered common goods like dust masks and cotton swabs hung from hooks on the customer side. Coats, survival and military-surplus-type goods occupied the rest of the customer space, but a surly man with a heavy coat and hat looked up from a sporting goods magazine and made eye contact with Ryuji. "So, Little Man returns. Did you decide you stick out like a sore thumb either way and you're keepin' the bleached hair?"

Ryuji scoffed, yet smiled. "A man who's his own man doesn't need to blend in."

"Nope," Akira said, coming to a stop next to Ryuji. "Only men who want to make it to the next paycheck."

The shop owner snorted, the corners of his lips curling up, and maneuvered the white stick in his mouth to the other side.

Ryuji gestured to Akira. "I brought fresh meat."

Mister Cool and Surly turned the page in his magazine. "You're still not getting a discount."

Ryuji slumped. "Aw." He looked up at Akira. "So, what kind do you think you like?"

"There's a lot here," Akira answered. He tilted his head up at some bunch of tubes hanging from the metal girders above. "What's the plumbing doing hanging from the ceiling?"

Ryuji puffed out his chest and gave a proud smile. "That, my friend, is an RG-6 forty millimeter semi-automatic grenade launcher designed by Izhmash."

Cool and Surly turned another page in his magazine, eyes still down. "It was designed by the Central Design and Research Bureau of Hunting and Sporting Weapons. Izhmash was the manufacturer group—"

"Of the single-shot underbarrel version," Ryuji said, swiping a fist with a familiar self-disappointment on his face.

Akira smiled and jabbed an elbow into Ryuji's side. "Damn, you just geeked out on me."

Ryuji kicked at the worn carpet floor. "Everybody's got to have a hobby."

Akira chuckled.

Ryuji shifted so he could point at the array of faux weapons on the other side of the grating. "So what do you think you'd like to start with? Revolvers? Pistols? SMGs?" He looked down at the lounging shop owner. "You got assault rifles too, right, Big Man?"

Cool and Surly turned another page, eyes on some article. "Not for casuals, Little Man."

Ryuji turned back to Akira, an eager glint in his eyes. "Let's start you off with somethin' classic, but powerful. Somethin' easy ta grip and aim. The MP-443 Grach."

Cool and Surly stood. "One Rook, comin' up."

Akira rubbed his shoulder. "Ann's gonna want something, too."

Ryuji gave a leering smile. "Don't worry, I already thought of that." He elbowed Akira. "With that suit of hers, I can totally see her totin' a PP-91 KEDR with a laser sight."

"Mods are extra."

"But she'll like the base version," Ryuji finished without missing a beat.

Cool and Surly plopped the magazine onto the laptop behind the grating and headed to the back.

Akira grinned. "I hope you know what all those things are, because you might as well have been speaking Greek."

Ryuji laughed, looking more relaxed than Akira ever noted before. "I had two great loves since I started high school." He held up an index finger. "Track," then he extended his pinky, "and guns," then head-banged to some tune inside his own mind. Chuckling at his own joke, he lowered his hand and looked Akira in the eye. "What about you?"

Akira shrugged, rubbing the back of his own head as he looked at the guns on display behind the heavy wire grating. "We played a whole bunch of strategy games in chess club at Inuri High. I may not have really made friends with the other guys, but I liked the games."

"Were they really rude?"

"A few," Akira conceded, slipping in hands in his pockets. "But most were just really quiet. It was like you weren't allowed to talk or do anything besides think of your next move." Akira scratched his neck. "Granted, I think a lot of that was because they were all nervous of me, but… still. I was kinda hoping to make a new start with a club like that at Shujin where nobody knew me or my family."

Ryuji scanned the transfer student and his slouched shoulders. "I getcha. I'm sure you don't need any further reason to go after him, but I bet it was that effin Kamoshida who leaked your record in the first place."

The shop owner returned and set two paper boxes on his side of the counter, eyes flicking to Ryuji with a casual air. "I already know you, but," his gaze slid to Akira and hardened. "Just to be sure, even though these are models, don't go 'round pointing 'em at people."

Akira snorted. "If anybody even thought I might have a gun, I'd have so many goddamn fuzz on my ass I'd look like a cop parade."

A short moment of consideration passed through Cool and Surly slid the smaller box out to the square opening at the counter. "These ones are models for enthusiasts. Real guns feel… different." His eyes flicked to Ryuji for a moment. "Maybe one day I'll show you the good stuff, but for now you start at the bottom of the ladder." He pointed a lazy hand at Ryuji. "Just like him and everyone else. That'll be six thousand yen."

Akira's jaw dropped. "Six thousand?"

Ryuji sidled closer. "These ain't no gundam models, this is serious quality merch. The kinda stuff you'd mount on the mantle." His eyes flicked to the shop owner, then he turned away from Cool and Surly and leaned closer to whisper, "Just think how useful it'll be in the castle."

Frowning, Akira pulled out his wallet. "Yeah, fine. You're paying for Ann's."

Thin-lipped, Ryuji pulled out his own duct-taped wallet. "This time."

Friday, 15 April 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Central Street

Akira trotted down the stairs and turned around a crowd of people meandering towards the train station. With no place in particular he wanted to go, he let whimsy take him down the narrower, grimier streets of Shibuya.

Morgana popped his head out of the bag and stared up at the skyline. "The sun's going down. How long until your curfew?"

Akira groaned. "Now I really don't want to go back to Leblanc. It's not like Sakura-san's a horrible human being, but damn sometimes I can't stand him and his lecturing. Sometimes I don't know whether he thinks I'm a bad person or not."

Voices down the narrowing alleys perked his ears and Akira crept closer, peering around a corner to a dirty side street. Some woman in a dark dress and leather jacket crossed her arms. She looked familiar.

A few paces in front of her stood a gangly man in a leopard-print silk shirt hanging sloppy on his frame. "…think you're the only doc who can write prescriptions in Tokyo?"

The woman tapped a plastic case almost as big as a suitcase against her side. "I'm the only one offering the bulk you're asking for. Amphetamines aren't exactly easy to get. It takes a lot of effort to keep my suppliers and the government in the dark."

The gravelly-voiced man switched a brown paper sack from one hand to the other. "The head honcho's puttin' the squeeze on everyone in Shibuya."

Despite being alone with a man in a dark alley, the woman held a confident, almost bored pose. "My concern is getting the drugs you demand. I know very well you're making a lot more than you're paying for them. If you want me to be able to keep this up, just pay the five hundred thousand we agreed on last time."

Leopard Print tisked. "This ain't gonna fly every day."

"That's why we're doing this at night," she responded, holding out her free hand. "Now if we can just do this? I have real medicine to do."

Leopard Print threw the brown paper sack at her.

Stepping back, she caught it and set her plastic medical container to the ground to open the sack and count. After a few moments, she looked up. "This is four hundred thousand."

Leopard Print reached into his pocket and threw a handful of taped rounds of cash at her.

The woman grabbed for them, dropping the sack and knocking over the plastic container. Leopard Print chuckled, but after confirming the count the woman slid the plastic container across the pavement at him. He picked it up, smirked, and strolled away.

The woman in dark clothes stuffed the cash in the paper sack, shoved it in her purse, then walked away. Her platform shoes made the metal storm grating clack under her feet. She continued a few paces towards central street, then stopped and leaned against a cleaner segment of brick wall under a light. The pause in good lighting allowed Akira to make out her dark hair, a studded leather choker around her neck, and the rips in her jeans. She looked up at the sky. "I'm sorry, Miwa-chan. I never wanted this. If I can just make it up to you…at least I can make that right."

Curiosity stirred, Akira slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped out from the corner behind her. "So who's Miwa-chan?"

The woman in punk-rocker styling spun around, her hands up and her tone placating. "I'm just a small clinic doctor." Takemi paused to look him over as Akira stepped into the cone of light with her. Morgana popped out of the bag to look over his shoulder. "That cat… you're that boy from Leblanc."

Akira slipped his right hand from his pocket to give a tiny, mocking wave. "Luce. Turner Luce. What the hell are you doing selling drugs in a dark alley in Shibuya, doc?"

Takemi deflated. "Dammit." She looked him in the eye, a note of pleading in her face even if her tone sounded more like a command, "Look, when I said I'm a small clinic doctor—"

Akira waved her off. "This isn't a shakedown." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall in mimicry of how she stood before he revealed his presence. "But I'm sure we can come to some… mutually equitable arrangement. First I want to know why you're out here involved in that little… exchange."

Her eyes narrowed and he could swear he saw the gears whirling behind her eyes for several seconds before she let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. Takemi more collapsed than leaned against the brick wall. "I had a… period of disagreement with a few suppliers. I didn't want to shut down my clinic so soon after opening it, not with all I have to do, so… I went to the wrong people for help staying open. I just wanted to finish researching a treatment for my old patient, Miwa-chan." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, then out. "Now even though I could get everything from legitimate suppliers, if I stop doing business with those thugs, I'm a dead woman."

Akira scanned her, seeing no sign of deception. "I… might occasionally need medical care I can't have reported to the police."

The doctor stood up and opened her eyes, glancing from Akira to the night-darkened alley. "You in trouble with these bozos?"

Akira swallowed, but maintained his outward cool. "I'm kind of involved with another… issue right now."

Takemi narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him for several moments, then shrugged. "Fair enough. At least I shouldn't have to worry about that moron for another four or five weeks." She turned and walked out to central street at a brisk pace.

Morgana purred. "Talk about a fruitful day. New weapons and a doctor who owes you."

Akira watched Takemi disappear into crowd. "Let's not count our chickens before they hatch."

Friday, 15 April 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

The bell let out a merry jingle that grated on Akira's tired nerves as he walked into the cafe, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee stirring up his stomach. A young adult, probably a little older than himself, sat at the nearest tall chair at the bar. A tan, pressed jacket from some school or college hung on the back, its neatness contrasting with the young man's thick mop of brown hair Akira could swear had a hint of red in it.

Looking up from his legal pad, the customer flashed a wide show smile. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just here to enjoy the finest coffee in Tokyo." He glanced at Akira's tired eyes. "Are you a regular?"

"You could say that," Akira said as he paced down the bar.

The customer lifted his cup. "You should count yourself fortunate. I fell asleep on the train and got off at the wrong stop. Now I need to make my way back to Shibuya, but I thought why not take a moment to grab a cup and get a little work done?" He tilted the cup back, paused for a disappointed moment, then looked into it and sighed before putting it back down on the saucer. "Alas, I think I have drunk my excuse out." Reaching into his pocket, he drew a student debit card and held it out. "Thank you very much, Master Sakura."

Sojiro swiped the card over the chip reader and handed it back. "Any time."

The young man packed his papers in a metal briefcase, shrugged on his uniform jacket, then departed.

Sojiro pressed his hands against his lower back and stretched backwards. "Well, it's time I get home and start making dinner."

"I'll finish off the dishes," Akira said, slipping his bag off his shoulder. The thought that he wasn't being paid for his labor passed through his mind and he cringed, remembering how much he paid for the model gun. "And I need to get a job somewhere. I should stop by the boards down in the Shibuya underground."

Sojiro closed out the cash register and doffed his apron. "Well, look at you, acting like a responsible member of society." He gave an easy smirk as Akira carried the dishes to the sink, walked out and locked the door.

Akira set his bag on the nearest bar chair, then got to work on what ended up being almost thirty cups. After a minute of silence from Morgana just watching, Akira looked down at him. "Do you think I'm not responsible?"

Morgana tilted his head, ears turning askew. "Why would you think that?"

Akira sighed. "Japan may not be the Near East of the Old Testament, but one thing that's the same in both is that you don't tell someone to be brave or strong if they're already brave and strong. I know I'll always be an outcast, but… life is like a democracy." Finishing the dishes, he rinsed and pulled a handful of paper towels to dry his hands. "If everyone in my life says I'm trouble, isn't it insanity to try to say I'm the only right one when everyone else around me is wrong?"

Morgana stood up. "The fact that an answer is popular doesn't mean it must be right. Isn't everyone at Shujin turning a blind eye to Kamoshida? Aren't you the only one leading the way into his Palace to keep him from hurting anyone else?"

Akira's lips turned into a snarl as he snatched his bag and walked up the stairs. "I will bury him for what he did to Shiho."