Persona 5: Daywatch

Sunday, 3 July 2016
Night
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

Akira pressed a hand against his back as he paced up the stairs. Yusuke snoozed on the couch, his head sunk in the pillow brought by Makoto.

The team leader poked his head out from his cushion on the bottom of the shelves. "First a long study session, then a long cleaning session downstairs. You're certainly industrious." His tail swished behind him. "Could we talk?"

Akira yanked his shirt off and tossed it to the laundry hamper, then unzipped his rolling closet and changed. "About the Phantom Thieves?"

Morgana paced out so they could look straight at each other, though when he sat he seemed to thrust his chest out a bit more than normal. "We have gained yet another member. First Nightrider, then Fox. We have enough to keep a well-rested reserve."

Akira tugged at his oversized sleeping shirt. "Six Persona users will do that, I guess. At least you had the idea to designate a rear-guard-slash-reserve. We were starting to step on each other's toes."

Morgana smirked. "Between my wit and Nightrider's, we shouldn't have issues like that again." He looked at the sleeping artist. "I'm still suspicious of Fox's designs on Lady Ann, but having an artist's eye should be quite a boon. He does have uncommon talent."

Akira sat down on the bed. "I'm not so sure. Nothing is more common than squandered talent. Discipline, on the other hand, makes 'talent' of a blank slate." He threw back the sheet, but hesitated. "Fits in with us malcontents, though."

"We wouldn't have fallen in together if we were bad guys," Morgana riposted. His posture slouched. "A picture stolen from a pupil… I've seen the embodiment of human desires many times, but I still don't remember who I was."

The twist of the team leader's ears started to look distressed, so Akira coughed to catch his attention. "Maybe you were too much for the Metaverse to handle, so it had to wrap you up in a cat body."

Morgana rolled his eyes, but his little body loosened. "I still need to get my human body back, or I may lose her."

Akira's prankster inside called to make a wisecrack, but the long day weighed down his eyelids.

Monday, 4 July 2016
After School
Yongen, Leblanc

The bell jingled as Akira opened the door. An elderly couple and three businessmen who beat rush hour looked up at Akira. The transfer student spotted the tall artist at the closest booth to the window. He walked up to the boy with a pair of books open on the booth table in front of him. "What exactly was the emergency?"

Yusuke looked up at him with a slight quirk of one eyebrow, but it was fast replaced but a small but relieved smile. "Good, you're here."

Morgana popped his head out of the transfer student's satchel and hissed, "We rushed all the way from Shujin, and you're just relaxing?"

Yusuke drew straight, his forehead creasing and eyes narrowing. "I'm studying. Which was what I messaged you about."

Akira sat down at the opposite side of the booth, setting his satchel further down on the bench seat. He sighed. "When you said you needed help, I thought it was something immediate."

Nodding, Yusuke gestured the hand holding his pencil at the books and papers between them. "Finals are upon us." He scrutinized the transfer student's gaze, then set his pencil down on his papers, wrapping his arms around himself and his dark grey gaze falling to his lap. "If I have conveyed a mistaken impression, I apologize. I feel… even less prepared for tests now than I have in the past. Madarame seemed too important to delay, and…"

Akira set his glasses on the table and rubbed his eyes as he let out a long breath. He wanted to be more annoyed, but despite his intentions he hadn't taken any of the team on a study date in the past few weeks. Despite the artist's threat against Ann, he came clean and helped them fight when dragged into the Metaverse. Ann forgave him. Was it wrong to deny him reprieve? Akira got second chances after Kamoshida even though he didn't deserve it. Even Ann and the others gave him second and third chances he never earned. Akira put his glasses back on. "I'll need my books, fearless leader." He looked up at the artist. "So, what's coming up tomorrow?"

Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Akira fanned himself with a sheet of scribbled-over scrap paper. Books and papers scattered all over the table between he and the artist, though despite the droop to his eyelids, at least the latter looked more confident than before. "When you study, you're serious. Ann and Ryuji both gave up after two subjects."

One corner of Yusuke's mouth quirked up. "Discipline was not optional under Sensei."

Akira paused, then started straightening up his things to pack. "My old bastard was the same way. He hated being out-done, but it's not like he slacked off himself."

Yusuke's stomach growled.

Akira stacked his books on the false bottom hiding his gun in his school satchel. "Did you not eat today?"

Morgana, sitting against the far wall and largely hidden by the upright Shujin satchel, rolled his eyes. "You know, you can use the money Joker distributes from selling Metaverse trinkets."

Akira flipped a folder of notes closed. "I still think that's a bad idea. Spending money without having a clean line to explain it to authorities is how Imi got caught selling bootlegged games at Inuri." He wiped his forehead, then grabbed the loose stack of scribbled-over scratch paper to fan himself again, maneuvering his phone out and checking his bank balance with his other hand. "Speaking of which, I'm getting kind of low on clean funds. I don't suppose you know any places hiring which aren't fussy about having a record? I've probably been turned down two hundred times."

Yusuke shook his head. "I am afraid I am in much the same boat as yourself. Sensei… Madarame was disdainful of materialism and finances. He did not officially ban getting a part-time job, but taught us we should focus at all times possible on the greatest pursuit. He also stopped taking Saki-san to galleries or excursions outside the atelier when she got a job at a handbag store."

Tail swishing, Morgana shook his head in disappointment. "You shouldn't have nearly as much problem finding work." His blue eyes widened. "Oh!" He turned to the transfer student. "That bar where you met the reporter. The lady said she'd hire you."

Akira chuffed, still disillusioned by the number of places who turned him down the instant they found out he had a record. Places which didn't even perform a background check still gave him the boot as soon as they got a whiff of his record. Still, what's the worst that could happen? Rejection number two hundred plus one? He pulled up the bar's website, a spartan affair with a special events page a year out of date and little working but booth reservations. "Looks like Crossroads doesn't have online employment." He pulled up the one phone number on the site and called. The phone went straight to a machine which only gave options for booth and whole bar reservations.

When the transfer student hung up with a growl, Yusuke drew his sketchpad and flipped to a fresh page. "No good?"

Akira took off his glasses to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Phone's just set up to take reservations. They might not be set up for remote employment application." He set his glasses back on. "Hell with it. I'll go there and find out in person. At the very least they have air conditioning."

"AC's not on," Sojiro said from the register. "Repairman's got a backlog until next Wednesday."

Akira let the team leader in, then shouldered his satchel. He gave one last nod at the artist. "See you."

Monday, 4 July 2016
Evening
Shinjuku, Crossroads

The trains were crammed more than he ever thought possible, but the streets seemed lighter than his last trip up here with Mishima. Still, Akira took in a deep breath of relief once he got inside the bar. Just a dozen people scattered around the tables on what might have been a dance floor when the place was a night club. The mood lighting made the lethargic customers seem even deader.

The bartender turned her heavy-set gaze on the incoming transfer student. "You again?" She gave a thin smirk. "Keep coming to a place like this, and you might not turn out to be a good adult."

"I'm apparently a no-good juvenile." Akira gave her a thumb's up. "See? I'm already practicing."

Lala chortled. "Oh, you." Her smile faded. "I'm afraid Ohya isn't here today."

He straightened his dark street jacket, wishing he had some lighter clothing for the summer. At least it was cool inside, if not as much as he expected. "Oh, I'm not here for that." He swallowed, even though the bartender had never given him much reason to be concerned before. "You remember when you said you could use a bar hand? Is that offer still on the table?" He gestured his chin out at the assortment of suited salarymen, women in a variety of business dress, and others in less formal garb. "Looks like all sorts come through here. I can't think of a better way to broaden my perspective and meet new people."

Setting a hand on her hip, Lala scrutinized him with an intensity he didn't expect from the jocular woman. Her smile and stance loosened up at the same moment. "You've got potential, young man. Don't worry, I've had minors work here part-time before. You won't do anything illegal."

Akira feigned a pout. "You're bringin' me down, Smalls."

She reached out a finger as if to bop him on the nose if the bar wasn't between them. "The line is 'killin' me'. I like my baseball movies. Have you worked with food and drink before?"

The background check. Well, there went this job.

Morgana poked his head out of the satchel. "Ore no Beko wasn't your first restaurant."

Akira straightened. He came all this way. In for a penny, in for a pound. "I worked at an inn with in-house dining before. Washing dishes, carting around dinner trays, cutting tomato and pepper swans."

She crossed his arms and appraised him once more. "Tomato swans?" Her grin widened, tobacco-stained teeth peeking out. "That's a little higher-end than what we do here, darling. But if you can make it in a place like that, the work here should be easy. Why settle for a place like this?"

Akira lowered his hands. "Not everybody gets an allowance from on high."

She shrugged. "Kaho's in tonight, but a big office party's still coming in. Come on and I'll show you the kitchen and office." She led him through a tour of two rooms which put together could have fit in Leblanc's loft with space to spare. They went over schedule availability and she reiterated warnings against joining the customers in drinking. Once they returned to the front, he returned to the customer side of the bar and waited for her to take care of a new customer. After setting his beer down, Lala looked back to the transfer student in street clothes. "Explanation finito. Any questions?"

Akira looked at her, then thought back to the small handful of other bar attendants he'd seen before. "Do I need to cross-dress?"

Lala perked. "I could be your producer." A beat passed before she burst out laughing, the sound low and gravelly. "I wouldn't want to break adult entertainment laws. What you're wearing now is fine, Kaho and a few other full-time girls already had kimonos."

Morgana burst out laughing from the satchel. "I'd have paid money to see you dolled up."

Akira dusted off his hands at the team leader sitting in his satchel, despite the gray gloves he wore. "Hey, it takes a confident man to be able to dress up. The drag pageant was one of the biggest parts of Yasogami's culture festival. Has been since they had Risette."

One of the two salarymen nursing beers at the bar pointed his beer at the transfer student. "No guesses why that might be."

Akira raised his hands. "No, the drag pageant. People still had photos of a big one years back. Some student worker from Junes signed himself up and did the most unsettlingly pretty Alice in Wonderland I have ever seen." He chuckled. "Just made the other three losers that much more hilarious."

Lala chuckled, then took an empty glass from the salaryman nursing his beer at the far end of the bar. "So what do you think, kid?"

Akira blinked, then straightened his glasses. "Wait, you actually want me?"

Lala nodded.

"Now?"

Lala set the glass next to a tiny sink behind the bar. "Idemitsu's going to be here any minute. Once the big parties arrive, I rarely have time to entertain the customers at the bar. That'll be part of your responsibilities."

Akira snapped straight and brought his right hand to his brow, palm facing out, at precise angles.

The night proceeded with less fanfare or bustle than he expected. The business party started arriving a few minutes early and Lala rushed to keep up until the girl Kaho arrived a few minutes late, complicated further by more patrons coming and going. While they focused on keeping the twenty-one adults trying to drown their sorrows well-supplied, Akira tried to keep up.

Despite the alcohol, he noticed a bored listlessness from a man with burn marks across almost a full half of his face. Once brown eyes met his grey ones, he grunted. "Whaddya lookin' at?"

Morgana quailed in the satchel behind the bar. "Abort, Joker!"

Akira felt his body moving on its own, stepping straight in front of the glaring man nursing a tall beer. "Yo."

The salaryman sitting one seat to Burn Scar's right swallowed, then took his own beer and scurried for a table. Burn Scar himself held a hot glare on the transfer student for long seconds, then humphed. "Go ahead, ask me how I got it."

Akira shrugged. "It's a burn scar, they look pretty much the same as friction burns." He waggled his left arm. "I've got one myself. Jackass threw a stick in my front bike wheel. Flipped me over and the bike scraped me down a meter and a half of asphalt."

The glare vanished as Burn Scar straightened. "No kiddin'?"

Burn Scar sipped his beer and he recounted his job as an ambulance medic until his beer ran out a good half hour later. He paid his tab and left.

Lala closed the payment app and stuck her payment tablet in a small pocket hidden inside her obi. "I saw you speaking to Yasutora-chan today. I'm surprised. He's a scary-looking man most people avoid."

Akira shrugged. "I never turned when we played chicken on bikes. Yasutora-san didn't seem so scary to me. Just a guy who's seen some shit and wants a drink to take the edge off the day."

Lala chuckled. "Well, I was impressed by your boldness. Just remember, there's a lot of folks who come in here, and each one has a different way you need to handle 'em." When Akira just nodded, she waved him over to the register. "You're still underage, so you should be going. I'll just pay you from the till tonight—as soon as your papers are done, you can get direct deposit like everyone else. Keep up the good work, and be careful. Things have settled down a lot with the police crackdown on the Kaneshiro yakuza, but Shinjuku is still dangerous at night."

Akira nodded and took his pay, his eyes widening at more than double what the convenience store paid. "Thanks, Lala-san. I'll be waiting for the next time you need more hands on deck."

He took his satchel, and the team leader popped out of it as they stepped out. "Not bad, Joker. You didn't succumb even to that super-intense guy."

Akira shook off what might have been a curfew officer before he got to the train station. With the train still a few minutes out, he pulled out his phone. He pulled up Queen Togo. [Good evening. I hope your finals are going okay.]

The train pulled up by the time his phone buzzed with a response. [I know they're necessary, but I hate finals. They're harder than hurdle marathons.]

[Good luck. Though I am sure you won't need luck.]

[Thank you, Akira-kun. Good night.]

Akira slipped into the train just before the doors closed and relished the competing sensations of blowing cool from the AC and a stirring warmth.

Tuesday, 5 July 2016
After School
Shibuya, Diner

Akira slid into the booth and set his satchel down so the team leader could pop out and glare at the artist sitting across the table from him. Ryuji slid in after the transfer student. The clatter of spoons, chopsticks, and at least a dozen conversations created a din pressing down on him, though it felt less oppressive than before. He hoped this meant he was getting used to Tokyo, rather than today being easy on its own. Akira gave a nod to Ann and the artist. "How are the finals going?"

Yusuke gave a contrite nod, his lips flat but something about his face too relaxed for melancholy. "Very well, actually. Despite the circumstances, I believe my earlier studies have left me… at the very least prepared enough for passing grades." The corners of his lips curled up. "Actually, I did find a little time yesterday." He pulled out his phone, opened the camera history, then presented it to them.

Akira took the phone with care, angling it for the team leader who just looked away with a pout, then the track star. Akira scanned the image, before realizing it wasn't quite a border. "Ah, you framed Sayuri. Have you thought about what you're going to do with it?"

Yusuke stared at the image, marred by that one stroke of paint falling to the bottom of the image. "How strange that in my teacher's twisted heart, I not only found the last wish of my mother, but her face which had passed out of living memory." He took back his phone, put it to sleep, then set it to the side. "I contacted counseling at Kosei for options, since I am not actually familiar with the details of my scholarship—just that it is supposed to be rather extensive. They have dorms just off campus, but only students without nearby residence may occupy them. Madarame would have to confess in writing that I have been barred from the atelier."

Setting her civics book on the table, Ann glowered at a spot on the table. "How about it being an unlivable shack one wind storm away from falling down?"

Morgana's tail started twitching.

Akira shrugged. "Well, Sojiro said it's fine for you to stay 'til finals are over. As long as we're quiet, I don't think he really cares who crashes there." He looked out at them. "It's just a crash-pad, to be honest. Any o' you who want to stop by can. It's not a bad little space."

Ryuji shrugged and waved down one of the waiters and they ordered cold snacks. Once she left and no sign remained of prying eyes, he turned back to the group. "Okay, Prez wan'ed to know. Now that we took down 'rame, whaddya gonna do?"

Akira took off his glasses to clean one lens. "Isn't it a bit premature to be thinking of that? Madarame hasn't even confessed yet. More mundanely, Kosei's finals aren't finished until Thursday, then next week it's our turn."

Yusuke dug into his school bag to draw a few textbooks. Instead of opening them, he looked at the runner slouched against his seat. "Madarame is the third Palace you have sought to topple. I understand why you brought low Kamoshida, but… why do you continue to strike out when there is such grave danger?"

Akira set his settled his glasses back on his face. "Somebody's got to take down scumbags."

Ryuji sat up, an energized spark entering his eyes. "Not just that, dude. We wanna give courage to all'a them peeps gettin' squished by selfish adults."

Morgana puffed out his chest from his narrow space between Akira and the wall. "That's right!"

Gears whirled behind the artist's dark grey eyes. "What good is courage? Does that make them happy?"

Akira coaxed the team leader onto the table, then drew a couple books. "Take this from the son of a shrink. No one thing can make you happy."

Ann kicked his leg under the table, then turned her blue gaze to the artist. "You never know how until you try. Some people might take the opportunity to just get out of a bad situation, but some people might just need a chance to step up."

Yusuke poked at his textbook, then looked over at her. "A little like yourself, hm? You could have stopped after that despicable coach turned himself over to the police. Instead, you continue to stand for your justice, even now." He gave a small, hesitant smile. "How could I do any less?" He looked out at the boys across the table, as well as the team leader perched on it. "Would you have one such as I with you on your next battle to reform a small piece of humanity? My muse has been fed surfeit just from the twisted images in Madarame's Palace. I can only imagine how much more of the Metaverse would expand my artistic repertoire."

Ryuji gave a wide grin showing off too-perfect teeth. "Man, you really are obsessed."

Yusuke held up a hand, index finger extended. "As long as our plans are elegant."

Morgana shook his head, the metal on his collar jangling. "With Nightrider on the team, I don't think you have to worry about that. And the team decides on targets by unanimous vote, so despite the incredible power of the Metaverse, we won't abuse it like that Black Mask fellow."

Ryuji nodded, his grin undiminished. "Niiice. When Makoto joined up, I thought it was awesome 'cause we had more chicks, but she turned out to be even more intense than mister gotta-go-get'em here," he said, jerking his thumb at the transfer student. "But even with all the shit you saw, you stay cool."

Akira gave a sage nod. "If you think there's not enough femininity, we could all wear drag."

Morgana hung his head. "Joker."

Only the upturn of one corner of his mouth betrayed his humor. "We could pull it off."

Yusuke's eyes narrowed in thought. "Several prospective students did tell me at the last Kosei culture festival that all I would have to do to look like a woman is to add makeup and change the styling of my hair."

Ann massaged her temples. "Please don't." She slapped her hand against her book. "Anyway, this was officially supposed to be a study session anyway, right?"

Akira nodded despite the runner's groan, and the next two hours flew by as they all dug into academics.

The track star got a call from his mother and excused himself. After another ten minutes, Ann gave it up and packed.

Yusuke scratched out the last of his notes on the poetry likely to be on the Japanese language portion of tomorrow's finals. "I suspect I have reached my limit as well." He set down his pencil and rubbed his neck. "I just need to read In the Grove before tomorrow so I can say which narrator was telling the truth."

Akira perked up at the mention of his previous favorite book. "None of them."

Yusuke shot him a gaze narrowed by tiredness. "Somebody has to be telling the truth."

Akira set aside his civics book. "That's the whole point of the story. Even if humans are capable of knowing the truth, they're not capable of telling it because they're all motivated by self-interest. Each of the four recountings disproves something from the others."

Throwing his hands up, Yusuke rolled his eyes. "Then what is the point of trying? If there is no such thing as true beauty, why have artists toiled for millennia?"

Akira finished stacking his papers. "Well, which is beautiful, the people of a mandala or trees of a shigajiku?"

Yusuke sat back in his seat. "That's… neither. Those are two entirely different genres of paintings, neither of which could exist without those elements. It's not as if the hanging scroll depends on the geometric arrangement of people in a different painting."

Akira pointed a finger in triumph. "Exactly. I mean, who knows if there's some secret truth hidden out there if we are the ones who make it? We build our own cities."

Yusuke began packing with slow motions, his eyes kilometers away. "No. There has to be truth out there. Just as there is true beauty." The transfer student opened his mouth, but the artist interrupted, "I know it exists, for I see it in Takamaki-san!"

Now Morgana stood, tail twitching. "I will never allow a villain like you to make moves on such a beauty!"

Pushing his glasses up, Akira rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Shouldn't she be the one who decides who she does what with? She's mature enough to decide for herself."

Morgana's jaw flapped open, then clicked close.

Yusuke finished packing. "Perhaps we should leave further philosophy for later. Thank you for the study session." He departed, and after a few minutes Akira took the team leader, paid, and left.

Tuesday, 5 July 2016
Late Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Akira shuffled through the door, his fingers aching from the grocery bags. His stiff shoulders popped, still sore from at least ten minutes of trying to protect Morgana and his bag from the crush of rush hour in the train. The restaurant's door opened with a faint squeak and the jingling of that annoying bell.

The only person within looked up to greet him, Sojiro's hands on a broom as he swept rice from under one of the booth tables.

Seeing no reason to buck tradition, Akira came to a stop at the close end of the counter and set the paper bag on it so he could bring up his right hand to his brow, palm out. "Reporting in."

Sojiro rolled his eyes. "Well, now that you're here, you can finish the sweeping. Just the job for a young back." He held out the broom. When the transfer student took it, he headed for the kitchen to check the curry in the pot. "What do you think of Tokyo?"

Kneeling to get under the far end of the table, Akira swept out dried rice from under the table. "There's so many people everywhere I go. I don't know how everyone else just brushes it off." He swept the last particles on the ground into the little tray, then dumped them into the trash. "I assume Yusuke already came in?"

The restaurateur nodded. "Came in looking as tired as you usually do. Went straight up."

Akira retrieved his groceries, washed the last remaining cups in the sink, then pulled out a colander to wash the vegetables in. "Lot of cups today, not so many plates or bowls. Does that mean today was a slow or fast day?"

Sojiro, stirring at the pot, gave a harrumph, though the wrinkles in his forehead seemed lighter than before. "Beginning of the week tends to be busier than the weekend here, though it can go either way." He tapped the ladle and turned the stove off. "You and your friends find a gym or something? Seems you're always coming in tired."

Akira shook out the carrots and tomatoes. "As long as we're not doing it after curfew, the cops can't do anything about us running in Inokashira or one of the other parks." He set the colander on the counter and pulled open a drawer for the peeler to clean the carrots. "And it's not like we're always out doing something."

"Fair enough." Sojiro tapped curry off the ladle and carried it to the sink. "So, is today cooking day?"

Akira shook out the peeler and paced to the knife drawer. A snark about having cooked for himself since childhood danced on his tongue, but the abrasive middle-aged man didn't seem like the sort to strike up small talk. Curious what he was really after, Akira answered, "Better to concentrate preparations on a couple days and make a whole bunch, especially if you're not good at cooking. Saves money, too. When neither of your parents give a damn about parenting, that means you've got to take care of yourself."

Lips pressing thin, Sojiro finished washing and rinsed off the ladle, then hung it on a hook on the wall above the mop bucket. "Sounds like you had all-too-little childhood."

Akira began rapid, regular strokes to cut the carrot into even slices, the motions practiced from months in the kitchens of Amagi Inn. "There's nothing magical about childhood. We're thinking people who remember what the adults around us do from a very young age, what most people have nostalgia for is the lack of responsibility. Pity they don't remember how little power they had either."

Despite the normal devil-may-care attitude the once-playboy showed before, Sojiro sighed at that. He looked older and wearier than the transfer student had ever seen before. "I can't agree with that. Childhood is a time when you're still figuring out who you are. Children shouldn't be forced to toil for room and board when they don't even know who they are or what they want to be." He gazed into wood boards of the kitchen wall for long seconds, but something remained focused in his gaze which made the transfer student wonder what he'd seen. Sojiro shook his head and gave that practiced-for-the-customer smile. "Tell you what. Since you've already got plenty on your plate, why don't I show you a thing or two about cooking? No need to rely on cold vegetables and rice every day."

Akira nodded as they chatted about cooking styles and stir fry until well after the creak of the stairs indicated Morgana pattered upstairs.

AN: A lot of possible topics to touch on thanks to the wide array of broken homes, but one that I never really saw brought up is having to take care of oneself. Leaning to do your own laundry or cook for oneself isn't complicated each by itself, but when you're forced to do all of it while still struggling to keep up with school and build your future identity? It's no wonder things can seem so bleak to those who don't have the advantage of a family supporting them.