Persona 5: Daywatch

Wednesday, 3 August 2016
Noon
Shibuya, Underground Walkway

Ann set the watch down and backed up. Despite the intention of getting Shiho a gift to try to commemorate her latest physical therapy milestone, the lingering question of what would happen to her and Yuu-kun blotted out what should have been a happy time. Well, as happy as recovering from throwing herself off a roof could be. She didn't have that dead look in her eyes, but the frustration, the anger…

Shiho had always been blunt, but the frigid glare and throwing Ann out of the clinic wasn't her sweet, honest friend. Were things that bad between her and Yuu-kun? How long did it take for that dense boy to get back in and help Shiho climb out of that pit?

"Ah, Takamaki-san," a boy's familiar voice called. As deep as her pondering was, it took her a moment to place it as Yusuke's. He stood there in the walkway winding through the underground shops. He stepped closer to get out of the stream of pedestrians, though his gaze only lowered further from her. His words clashed with his reluctant posture, "I was hoping to find you today."

Eager to engage with something not depressing, Ann clasped her hands behind her back. "Well, you found me! What's up?"

Yusuke bowed low. "I wanted to ask your forgiveness. I have not treated you—"

A pedestrian broke from the stream, came to a stop at the artist, then planted her hands on her hips. "Could you not block the store?"

The artist stepped aside, his face red and one hand rubbing his other arm, his shoulders even more slumped.

Seeing such an earnest person trod underfoot made that cold indignance swell within Ann. "Come on, you can tell me over crepes."

He followed close after her to the street-side vendor and despite his single weak attempt to assure her he didn't need anything, she bought him a banana-cream crepe along with her strawberry-chocolate.

Yusuke accepted the rolled treat, but without his usual enthusiasm for food. "I… know you refused to be dissuaded, but I feel as if I have taken even more from you." His dark grey eyes cast to the street. "Even now, you are on the lookout for ways to aid your fellow man. I could not even overcome the temptation of this street-side delicacy. I treated you ill when you came to help me against Madarame, and I can not even think of a way to repay Akira for the weeks he offered his humble abode to me."

The gloomy self-deprecation stood in contrast with the dismissive ease with which Yusuke just accepted the crowd around them. She wondered what Akira might have said, but that just seemed to highlight the contrast against Akira's tense, perpetual readiness for fight-or-flight. The thought even made her lower her chocolate-cream-filled crepe. "Well, it's not like you can punish a crepe. Chocolate never did anyone wrong." The corner of her lip twitched when he accepted her line and chowed down. "Akira asked me how I could take the Tokyo crowds so easily, and I could never give him an answer. How do you do it? Ryuji might be oblivious, but you're always paying attention."

Yusuke swallowed a deep bite. "I am looking for opportunities," he said as if describing last week's weather. "Sensei taught us art can inspire at any moment." Those dark grey eyes then turned to her. "But they all seem so dull and mundane when you are there. I know there is the human spirit somewhere within them. But like the distant galaxies, they fade into the black of the night sky beside you."

Heat having nothing to do with the scorching summer blazed over her face. "There's plenty pretty faces out there."

He stepped closer, the banana-creme crepe in his hand falling to his side, its cream leaking out. "No. You are not just stunningly beautiful at the superficial level. Eyes as crystal clear as the sky and a face which would have driven Susano-o across Japan. But these crowds are filled with people who have killed themselves so they may fit into the tiny cogs society crushes them into." A wan smile slipped over his face. "With you… there is a cheer deep within your soul that you bear like a banner. A bold sensuality you refuse to betray just because society senselessly says a woman who knows and loves her own body must be a lesser human. That was what drove me from the car with Madarame. Somebody alive, so alive she reminded me I, too, could live as well." He reached out a hand to take the tip of a pigtail, but then let go and brushed it off her shoulder. "And as I have been gifted beyond anything I deserve to come to know you, I see your beauty extends so much further. Your kindness and generosity flies in defiance of the cruelty inflicted upon you."

Ann reached out a hand, brushing bangs from his eyes. His words stole her breath while filling her like a balloon, and it took everything she had to look into those intense grey eyes.

Then a pedestrian's shoulder collided with her, knocking her stumbling forward, and the spell was broken. Yusuke caught her with his free hand. His eyes went to her feet and he sounded almost mournful when he said, "You dropped your crepe."

She considered buying another, but she already ate two-thirds and another might spoil her dinner. Nana Nagato was going to be over tonight and would report Ann not eating to her parents. And she did want to keep in shape for her next photoshoot. Ann cleaned up the mess, tossed it in the vendor's trash can, then grabbed napkins to clean off her hands. "I kind of want to get out of here, now."

Yusuke finished his crepe. "Delicious. I can see why you fancy them, Takamaki-san."

She giggled. Akira was the only boy she'd shared crepes with, but he gave off vibes of following along an expected script rather than genuinely liking them. All the other boys called them too 'girly' to partake in. After having given the artist a new experience, she wondered where his experiences had taken him.

Yusuke spoke first, giving more of a bow of his head than at the waist due to the crowds on the sidewalk around them. "I have not sufficiently apologized for how I treated you so soon after you fought you way out from Kamoshida's thumb."

Ann let out a breath. Maybe Yusuke and Akira weren't that dissimilar after all. Both seemed to be terrible at letting go. "Akira and Morgana helped me out of that." She crossed her arms. "Even gave me their full support when Kamoshida was at our mercy. I hadn't even decided if I wanted him to live at that point." She shook her head. "But it wouldn't have been right to take the easy route. I'd only have been satisfied for a minute, and Shiho never would've had her vindication." She brushed back a pigtail and planted a hand on her hip. "Why'd you ask for me to model… you know? I'd have understood one of those boys like Ryuji or the creeps who propose to me on the way to school, but…" She paused to try to think of what she actually wanted to say. Did it seem too weird if she still wasn't sure whether he actually thought of her as a woman? Sex and all? The question was there or she wouldn't have gotten mad at him in front of Madarame, but she wasn't sure.

Yusuke swallowed, his throat remaining tense for several moments longer. He didn't quite meet her gaze when he answered, "I wanted you to leave Sensei alone. You all had no idea how close you were to the things I had turned a blind eye to for years. Things I knew, and knew would tear down the flimsy veil that let me tell myself things were normal and therefore tolerable even though they were neither." He breathed out, but unlike Akira seemed to relax from it. "I had no idea how hard it was to breathe there, so to speak, until I was at Akira's."

"But… nude?" Ann tilted her head the other way. Maybe she'd spent too much time around Ryuji, but any guy she'd been around who talked about naked girls never wanted to stop at the naked part.

The artist nodded. "Sensei painted all of his female apprentices nude. He taught us that the human body is as natural is the stream or the flower." He crossed his arms, tapping a finger against one lip. "After having spoken to Sakamoto-san and Akira-san, I think he realized there is a marketability to the female form. He never pressed the boys to be painted nude." He blinked and eyes focused on her, then he bowed. "Saying I know better now does not seem to compensate."

"Hey, hey," she waved at him. "You didn't know. After all, would you really ask me again?"

His visage brightened. "You mean you would?"

Her flat stare could have frozen Central Street.

His visage paled and he seemed to realize he'd crossed a line, but the searching quality of his gaze hinted that he didn't understand which one. "I have transgressed again." He pressed his fingers against his brow. "I don't understand how Akira or Mishima-san find relationships to be so straightforward. How they can pick out one of many things they love of a person, who is so much more complex than any flower or visage?"

And just like that, Ann's anger fizzled.

Yusuke took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. "Would you permit me to take you somewhere?"

Wary from being asked to love motels and strange places by boys in the past, Ann tilted her head.

The artist straightened as if he needed to sort his stance as well as thoughts. "Have you ever been to the planetarium in Ikebukuro?"

Ann clapped her hands, a thrill of anticipation shooting through her. "Never! Does Kosei do trips there?"

He gave a self-conscious smile. "Middle school. Sensei was on a 'spiritual retreat' at the time, so Saki-san forged his signature."

Ikebukuro, Planetarium

Ann plopped down in the cushy, padded seats reclined further back than she expected. A pre-show star projection crept across the ceiling. After the artist sat down next to her, she leaned closer. "This place is amazing. I wish Papa and Mama could've brought me to stuff like this. The fashion circuit keeps them so busy we don't have that much time together." She looked at him and couldn't help but think of a time her old friend duo slipped into a theater in Nerima, the way Shiho and Yuuki would lean until their shoulders and heads touched, holding hands on a single armrest.

She slipped out her hand, but as soon as he felt her arm, his retreated. "My apologies." He sat up to yield the whole armrest to her.

Ann shrugged and took it. He was being thoughtful. "It's pretty dark. That ever make you think of random stuff?" She clapped her hands together in a glee borne of anticipation of the coming show. "Like the show begins, and our chairs shoot us into space like rockets!"

A huff of a laugh passed out of Yusuke's lips and for a moment she was afraid he thought her stupid. Granted, it was a childish thought. Instead, his dark eyes fixed on hers, a real smile shining in them. "You are a genuine person to your core, Takamaki-san."

From anybody else that might have been mockery, but the… she wasn't sure what the right word was. Wonder? It shone in his gaze, and brought new heat to her face.

That deep gray stared into her and he nudged the elbow she had draped over the armrest. "And then? Where do our rockets take us?"

Her blush redoubled and Ann gave thanks for the deepening dark of the room. "They blast us into the sky! And we land on the moon!" Somebody behind shushed her, but she couldn't stop her giggle.

The lights fell more and the show spun up, swirling them through the solar system and beyond. Ann leaned to whisper to the artist, "You ever see a sky like that?"

"Sensei took us out of the heart of Tokyo a few times for star-gazing, but I have lived under Tokyo's skies for so long, everything else seems alien," Yusuke said, too even for her to be sure whether he was quashing melancholy or just reporting a fact.

He didn't shift away from her, so she continued, "I've always lived in cities, but winter in Rauma was cold and crisp and even if there was light pollution, I used to look up into the sky and wonder how many billions of kilometers I was staring into." A shooting star sailed past and she clasped her hands. She wouldn't have described herself as a religious person, not like Akira who went to church every week. Still, something about this magic called to her to pray the Phantom Thieves all got to experience more nice moments like this, that they'd save Futaba and more and be the heroes people all over Tokyo needed.

Despite the depth of his voice, Yusuke's carried a childlike wonder as he stared up. "Is that what the Perseids meteor shower is supposed to look like?" More streaks sailed out across the dome. Mesmerized by the sight, she gave a throaty sound of inquiry. The artist raised his whisper to answer, "Sensei used to make us watch a couple of the annual meteor showers. We were always cold and hungry, but there was such a majesty to them. It always spurred the muse in us." Yusuke's eyes fell from the projection dancing across the ceiling. "Sensei always said my inability to create ex nihilo was one of my greatest failings as an artist. That inspiration could come from anywhere, but a true creator could selectively take from the inspiration he had seen in his past and create something new anywhere."

Ann nudged him with her elbow. "Well, maybe we can try looking for shooting stars from my balcony some time. I haven't done it since I was a little girl, but I'm sure it's better with hot cocoa waiting."

Wednesday, 3 August 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Bikkuri Boi Diner

Makoto paced up the steps to a busy diner filled with a pleasant bustle of chatter. Today may have been a break from the heat wave, but plenty of people were taking to the indoors to avoid the summer heat anyway. Assuring the woman at the front her party was already there, she looked for the pair of Shujin students who texted her about writing the calling card for Sakura Futaba. After a moment, she spotted a familiar fluffy head of black hair at a booth with his class representative and the insisted-he-wasn't-a-cat team leader. "Good evening."

Mishima moved his bag and scooted in to give her room. "Oh, good evening, Senpai."

Makoto sat down, her gaze falling on the team leader sitting just inside past the transfer student. She noticed the books, half-eaten snack bowls, and crumpled papers on the table. "You two been here long?"

"I was at the gym not even a block down the way," Akira said. "Ryuji and I were practicing on Gun About after we sold off junk."

She nodded, then reached into her purse and slapped down her first draft of the calling card to Sakura Futaba. "What do you think?"

Akira set down a legal pad with quite a bit of scribbling and cross-outs. The intensity in his steel gaze as they darted across her paper made her tense. She helped write the last two, but over the group chat. She did her best to will down the coiling in her gut. After a minute, those eyes flicked up to her. "You think she's a better candidate for Sloth?"

Makoto nodded. "We used the Psychomachia since you wrote the first one, and lack of spiritual development seemed apt."

Akira handed the draft over to the class representative. "Her Palace was chock full of armies. Stargate, the Jaffa… hell, even the Tok'ra."

She straightened in her seat, her preparation giving her a little comfort like it did at student council. "All at a standstill. She grew up with her mother and, even if it was during an emotionally vulnerable time, it only took one fabricated suicide note to make her doubt her entire life. Based on the memories we saw, her biggest challenges going forward will likely be not backsliding into self-isolation. That seemed to fit sloth more than the other vices."

Mishima set her draft down. "She's got good points." His dark eyes fell on hers. "Akira talked about how she was so smart she got made fun of by her classmates, but I don't feel like that's the kind of thing to lift her out of either Wrath or Sloth. What about her mom?"

"Right!" Akira snatched the paper and scribbled. "Thanks for skipping lines." He handed the addition back to them.

Makoto took the sheet. Despite the transfer student's sloppy appearance, his neat handwriting stood out. "…a blind eye to fifteen years of a mother's cherished love?"

Akira squirmed. "Okay, I'm cheating here a little. I knew Director Isshiki, the real woman. She was proud of her kid. Always talked about how smart or clever she was. I never saw Futaba up at the Blue Cove research facility, but even those memories point to a warm relationship." He swallowed, his voice sounding a bit steadier than before. "She loved her mother. And her mother loved her. Doesn't everybody deserve that?"

Makoto felt a tremor inside from that. He could say that without ever knowing what that exchange was like from his own mother. She found herself forgetting her mother and it had only been six years. Was something so foundational so easy to forget? "Y-yeah." She reached for a bean chip and munched.

Her face twisted.

"I know, right? Way too much paprika," Akira said. He pushed a bowl of something red, wet, and lumpy at her. "And this was supposed to be a chili paste, but doesn't taste like much of anything. They didn't try toasting the pepper in the pan or anything, and that even works on expired pepper."

Mishima tapped his pencil against a sheet with more crossed out than finished kanji. "Only if it's recent. They might not be storing their spices in airtight containers. Contact with oxygen makes them lose their flavor faster."

Makoto sat up and found herself drawn into a conversation more about cooking than hearts, and the evening wore on.