Persona 5: Daywatch

by Ganheim

Akira is banished to Tokyo by his own father. What begins as a near-suicidal quest for vengeance becomes a desperate attempt to turn the pieces of his life into an honest whole. Aided by clever strategists and opposed by supernatural puppeteers, one lost boy's quest for something greater clashes those who would think themselves gods over men, and demons within. AU elements.

108. August 18th, Bar None

Persona 5: Daywatch

Thursday, 18 August 2016
Evening
Kichijoji, Stoneon

Akira took the receipt and beige cloth bag of ten jewels, crystals, and assorted artisan talismans the team leader assured him would have useful power in the Metaverse. It sounded as ridiculous as the idea of healing crystals, but if he wanted to keep Hifumi away from the line of fire that meant finding a new edge. When the sales clerk gushed in thanks, the transfer student slipped the cloth bag into his satchel and waited for the leader to hop inside.

A cleansing downpour gushed outside and Akira paused at the door to savor it for a few moments. The way the rain poured down reminded him of Inaba – they weren't carefree days, but between his mother's disregard and the first adults in his life who treated him like somebody capable of more, they were some of his best. The rain on its own always felt like a cleansing thing bigger than any human thing, cities or egos.

Morgana popped up onto the student's shoulder. "I'm confident that more than half of these charms will be able to fill in those bracelets and pendants. I can't wait to see which ones manifest as protective powers. One might even have a new ability that could change the whole balance of unit strategy, like those elemental shards you keep coming up with! I ought to get Rider and Hawk in on this."

Hifumi hadn't contacted them beyond thanking Ann for agreeing to some photo shoot her mother threw together, and that was late last night. Still, the team leader had a good idea. Akira pulled out his phone and brought up the group chat. "Any ideas to kick things off?"

Morgana hummed. "No point in giving a list of the charms before we get into the Metaverse to check things out for certain. Just report the gear shopping's done and see if anybody has any ideas before we go anywhere. The less time I have to spend in the rain, the better."

Akira chuckled. "Sissy." On the Phantom Thief group chat, he sent, [Done shopping for gear enhancements up in Kichijoji. No luck on finding those holographic sights, Ryuji.]

To his surprise, Yusuke was the first of the Phantom Thieves to respond. [Did you manage to find any cyan paints?]

Futaba texted, [What is it with you and paints? Kichijoji's supposed to have awesome stuffed meat buns!]

[I am intrigued. Tell me more about these meat buns,] Yusuke sent.

Ann's ID winked in. [How's hacking the Medjed website going?]

Three dots winked in and out next to Futaba's ID for several seconds. [PlagUe DEFINITELY set up the current version. The thing the public can access is just a temporary image sent by a proxy so the PSIA can't just trace the host platform's MAC address. I'm trying to track them down, but the image is refreshed from a regular rotation. Probably all on zombie networks that are getting their feed from a remote terminal. If I'm going to apply anything that will stick long enough for the slug-heads in the media to see it, I'm going to have to find that remote terminal so a periodic refresh won't wipe all my hard work hacking away.]

Akira texted, [Weren't you still setting up moderation bots for the Phansite?]

Yuuki replied, [We talked for a while. After I explained the biggest problems were people stirring up the same old flame-bait fights, she realized we didn't need natural language processing. The vast majority of the problems were using a set of the same phrases, so she wrote a set of keyword hunters that muted posts and checked IP addresses against banned accounts.]

[That still sounds involved,] Makoto sent.

[Nah. EZ peazy,] Futaba texted. [I wanna update them if there really are bots starting flame wars on our Phansite, but I had the simple stuff like that done in a couple hours.]

[Well, I'm glad to have your expertise on our side,] Makoto replied.

[For real,] Ryuji sent. [Zombies and shirt are no joke.]

Yongen, Sakura House, Futaba's Room

Futaba smacked her head against her keyboard.

Kichijoji, Stoneon

Akira scratched his head. Yuuki explained the idea of hidden computer programs camouflaged within legitimate networks but he still felt like the concept eluded him. [Train ride's almost 40 minutes. Anything else I can look into while I'm in the neighborhood?]

Ryuji sent, [Stop by Untouchable and get that holographic sight?]

Three dots winked in next to Yuuki's ID. [Actually, a request has come up on the Phansite. It just doesn't have enough information to act on. Apparently there's an old man causing a ruckus in the back alley bars up there. Yelling, trying to steal patron payments, that kind of thing.]

[Sounds pretty tame so far,] Ryuji sent. [Why don't the cops handle that?]

[That depends on if anything is being left out,] Makoto texted. [Does there appear to be anything distinct left out, or a pattern of escalation?]

[The bartender who posted the request said he called the cops, but they won't do anything because it's an old man and nobody's been hurt yet,] Yuuki explained. [I don't want to let this go too far and have an old man struggling with senility get hurt. My grandfather has Alzheimer's and we had to put him in a special facility because he'd forget where he was. Who I was. Came at me with a lamp a couple times because he thought I was a burglar.]

[Easy enough to check in the Nav. What's his name?] Ryuji sent.

A few seconds passed before Yuuki replied, [Don't know, it's not posted.]

[I'll ask around,] Akira sent before putting up his umbrella. As often as his mother drank, he was surprised at how few people were hanging out at the street-level bars, but the rain kept plenty of people at home and after twenty minutes he texted the group with an update about the lack of progress.

[I'll ask around next time I'm in the area,] Ryuji sent. [But it's not really my neighborhood.]

[Me either,] Akira replied. [Anything else before I head to Leblanc?]

Three dots danced next to Ann's ID for a few seconds. [Actually, Akemi works there. She mentioned a stranger groping her there. Those kinds of perverts tend not to be too discriminating. Could you check out if it's a serial assaulter?]

He asked for the address and she sent him a review for Jazz Jin, some kind of music bar. It felt too early to return to Leblanc and crash, so despite the team leader's desire to get out of the rain, he sought out the brick-faced building with narrow stairs leading down.

Evening
Kichijoji, Jazz Jinn

The cover charge at the front desk was more than Luckless, but everything in Tokyo was and the music bar was quite a bit larger. A grand piano and microphone stand for a live singer, or perhaps small band, occupied a spot just off-center of the seating. The guy at the front directed him to a table near the piano for Akemi and the transfer student in long sleeves took a seat that exposed his back as little as possible. He didn't hold the illusion that random strangers might physically attack him, but being able to focus on any conversation nearby left less room for people to insult him behind his back. There was something more manageable about it being done-and-done in front of him than the slow poison of rumors circulating where he could only hear fragments of hurtful things.

A familiar girl with shoulder-length brown hair and a short black skirt trotted to his two-person table. Akemi, one of Shujin's second-years. "Welcome to Jazz Jin!" she regurgitated a practiced line, but once her eyes locked onto him they widened and made two sweeps. "You're him!"

As much to mock her as to cover up the twinge in his heart, Akira gave a flourished bow. "It is an honor to be a man who needs no introductions, Akemi-san." He thought, but realized he never heard Ann mention the waitress' full name. "You don't mind 'Akemi'? Ann never told me your family name."

"Oh," the brunette said as an awkward laugh bubbled out. She fidgeted as if she wanted to be anywhere else, but clamped down. "Right, you're in Ann's class." She pulled a pocket notebook from her waistband and hid behind it. "So what can I get you to drink?" She hid a little further behind her notebook. "N-nothing alcoholic."

Akira straightened his grey gloves. "I don't know what kind of person you think Ann befriends, but I wouldn't drink even if I legally could."

The girl wilted. "Sorry, you're right. She's pretty sharp, she wouldn't hang out with you if you were really… like they all say. So would you like to try the Magic Fizz? It's today's special."

Akira crossed his arms. "I believe I just clarified that I don't drink."

The brunette gave a nervous smile. "Oh, it's not alcoholic. The specials on the sign outside have the alcoholic and the nightly mocktail – non-alcoholic."

The transfer student uncrossed his arms. "I guess I could try it then." He sat straighter in his chair. "Listen, I'm going to just come straight out. Ann was kind of concerned about gropers. I can understand why she'd be worried about an unreported sexual assaulter. Has anybody weird or abusive been around?"

Akemi let out a breath. "I didn't think she'd send someone." She scribbled onto her notepad, then stuck the pencil in the rings atop. "Running into the occasional creep is just part of having a job. Lots of guys come through. I've had a couple grab my ass, but not even the Phantom Thief could stop that when there's alcohol and so many run-down guys. I don't even blame most of 'em, the manager has my back and the one who got grabby in front of his friends apologized." Eyebrows knitting together, she looked him in the eye. "If anything, the rat race out there is at fault. So can you promise me you won't do anything?"

If the girl was right and this was a train of occasional inebriated men, there wasn't anything he could do even as a Phantom Thief. Akira blew out a long breath through his nose, but nodded. She gave a relieved nod and trotted off, so he pulled out his phone and opened an online shogi game to pass the time.

"Look what the cat dragged in," a familiar male voice said, several minutes later. Looking up, the boy alternately referred to as either the Detective Prince or Defective Detective stood there in a collared white button-down shirt. Between the ironed folds and shine in his hair he still looked like he was ready for a TV studio. Without asking, he sat down in the other seat. "I didn't know you were the classy sort to enjoy jazz dives."

Akira pasted a smile and bit down on the urge to punch the arrogant prick. The bar wasn't bad, but jazz was overrated. It was just another genre of music, not something that opened up the world like the classical composers Hifumi was introducing him to. "It's a nice place."

Akechi's smile never wavered as he slid his chair closer. "A refuge from the outside. Who you are there doesn't matter, everyone is equal before the music here. Have you sampled any of their fine drinks?"

"If you're the regular," Akira said, scanning the self-styled detective, "What do you recommend?"

"Their mocktails are particularly flavorful," the fashionably-shaggy-haired boy said with a slight puff to his chest. "Other establishments try to cover up substandard or watered-down fruit juices with loads of sugar, but the flavors stand on their own here."

Akemi chose that moment to return with a tray bearing three complicated drinks. She set one down on the table in front of the transfer student. "Your Magic Fizz, Kurusu-san."

Akechi raised a black-gloved hand. "And one for myself, Akemi-chan. I could use some luck this week." She nodded to him and moved on to the next table to set down their orders. The detective sat back, those eyes boring into the transfer student. "You're full of surprises. Not going by Amamiya here?"

Akira took a sip, surprised by the brightness of the lime juice in the cold blended drink. "Well, with these rains I can't go by my favorite, Lance Lyde."

The detective's smile evaporated for a long beat. "Well, I suppose one's sense of humor isn't necessarily tethered to taste in music."

Akira sipped from his fruity drink. Given his experience at Luckless and Crossroads, he expected bars to serve nothing but beer, liquor, and harder liquor. None of the smells were appetizing there, but this could be something he got used to. "So, where's your uphill battle?"

"Politics," Akechi spat. "As usual. There's always an 'old boys' club' about, but there's a different conspiracy that's pilfered billions of yen over the past fifteen years." When the girl returned with his drink, he took it with that same, almost-unwavering for-the-cameras smile, then sipped and set it down on the table after Akemi moved on. "It's a pity you weren't here yesterday. Jazz Jin has a rotation of artists perform and there was a particularly enjoyable performance."

Akira gave a nod and sipped his mocktail. "Must be nice if it's as good as their fruity blends."

The muscles around Akechi's face relaxed and for the first time, that diminished smile looked real. If only for a few beats of the background music pumping through ceiling speakers. "You're quite discerning." He paused for a sip of his own drink. "It's a little hard to afford some days, but what's life without the finer things once in a while?" He took a small sip of his drink. "I took the liberty of doing some background research since you asked me for legal opinion… Kurusu. How much of an allowance do you get to be able to afford niceties like this despite a juvenile conviction?"

"I don't get an allowance," Akira snapped, the blended ice in his glass sloshing. "I take what part-time jobs I can get. I'm afraid I don't have the fortune of a trust fund stipend."

Akechi laughed, though there was a sharpness to it, a rigidness in his posture, a glare hidden in those crimson eyes despite the plastic smile that set off warning sirens in the transfer student. "Let me correct a yarn spun since the media started calling me the second Detective Prince. I am not the beneficiary of a trust fund stipend. I accept charity as a matter of necessity, but I wouldn't be working every contract the bungling police kick to the public if I could get more serious work."

"At least you can take your pick of employment," Akira riposted. "I can't even clerk at a grocery store with a pharmacy because their background check would throw me out without first consideration."

"You don't have to deal with reams of paperwork," Akechi replied, his glass in hand but forgotten. "I have to hold up an obsequious mask to self-important civil servants who'd thwart an investigation into corruption just to keep from being personally inconvenienced."

Akira finished a sip and set his Magic Fizz down on the table. He lowered his voice, despite the unlikelihood of one of the spaced-away tables listening in. "That's inconvenience versus inconvenience. The police everyone else assume is there to inform and help them are all looking for an excuse to bash me in the face with a baton and throw my life in jail forever." He sipped. "They already have once."

"You're unfettered," Akechi shot back, green fluid swirling in his glass. "Where did you haunt, before discovering this hidden neighborhood treasure? That quaint coffee cafe?"

Akira shrugged, unsure if the feigned nonchalance threw off the detective who had to know other investigative reporters besides Ohya. "Better than being stuck in a shitty attic."

A huff, then Akechi remembered his drink and took a sip. "I certainly understand the struggle of attempting to afford floor space in Tokyo," Akechi said before taking a deeper drink of his mocktail. "So where are you from? You still have this look of either wonder or horror in your eyes, Tokyo natives are inured to it."

Akira took a deeper drink and set his mocktail down. "A city on the end of the line. The edge of oblivion."

"Rural town?"

Akira pointed in lieu of verbal confirmation, then brought his phone out of sleep. No new messages from Hifumi. "Podunk nowhere, lagging almost forty years behind the megalopolis."

Akechi took another sip. "You surprise me, everybody else has rose-tinted glasses for their hometown. Especially if they aren't enthralled with Tokyo."

"I grew up in more than one town, and never felt welcome in any of them. Some people are the golden children of the class." He took a drink as if to say, 'Not me.' The boys stopped when a cluster of men in sloppy suits trotted in, Akemi leading them past to the raised tables against the far wall. Waiting for the other boy to finish a drink, Akira looked at the other boy's half-full glass. "You're a Tokyo native. How do you get your vittles?"

Akechi snorted with laughter. "Vittles! Your small-town dialect is slipping out." He set down his drink to prevent the risk of laughing while drinking. "I'm afraid my resources are limited. I can't afford better than a one-room flat. My clients pay for meals at locations of their choosing, but I can't afford to eat at nice places often. I lack the time or kitchens to cook my own meals, so daikon and convenience store bentos make my staples. I'm envious of your ready access to curry. Do you cook?"

Akira sipped. He would have said yes before the incident at Amagi Inn. He picked up some prep skill, but every day seemed to highlight the gap between him and the professional chefs. And what little conversation he'd shared with Makoto showed her experience eclipsed his. Ryuji and Ann had different opinions of what constituted cooking, however. "Does the microwave count?"

The detective's laughter this time felt less deprecating. He held up his glass. "I'm surprised to find something else in common between us. Frozen meals and convenience store food serve the purpose, don't they?"

Akira held his drink up to the light. He'd eaten plenty in and before Inaba, even if he lost his taste for them. "Frozen quickie-mart meals. Reminds me of Sparta."

Akechi's eyebrow rose and he finished a drink. "Sparta? As in the Greeks?"

Akira lowered his glass. "A Sybarite dined in Sparta and then said, 'Now I know why the Spartans do not fear death'."

The detective laughed, the sound more nasal than expected. After several moments, he set his half-downed glass on the table. "I must confess, this unexpected meeting has been quite refreshing. I've met clients here, but never simply… sat for a chat." His red gaze bored into the transfer student. The pose of his body didn't indicate a direct threat, but there was something unsettling about the following, "You're a surprising individual, Kurusu-kun."

His phone buzzed and Akira opened the messenger to see a text from Hifumi. [Apologies, everyone. I'm afraid that I can't join you all tomorrow. Mother is taking me to a series of interviews in Nerima-ku. I thought I'd have half a day, but she's moved my schedule around for a new photo shoot next week.]

Ann sent, [Is everything okay?]

[I'll survive,] Hifumi sent, then followed with, [It's Mother I'm worried about. She's been burning the midnight candle on both ends lately.]

Yusuke's ID blinked in. [Our window to act before your mother reports Akira to the police is shrinking. Based on Futaba and Sensei, I suspect she will halt her offensive as soon as the process of her heart change begins, but we must still make our final infiltration and abscond with her Treasure to do so.]

Futaba sent, [I hate to say this, but I might need that time. I'm not going to have Medjed's website hack done by tomorrow morning. Maybe not tomorrow afternoon.]

[It's cutting things close, but could everyone be there to change Mitsuyo's heart on Saturday?] Makoto texted.

The various Phantom Thieves sent their affirmations, including Hifumi. Akira glanced down at the team leader perched in the leather satchel, but Morgana held a glare on the lower half of the detective's body visible from the satchel on the floor. He sent his last affirmative and put his phone back into sleep mode, then took a deep drink and closed his eyes. He couldn't understand how Hifumi could always have some concern to spare for other people, even someone abusive like her mother.

"If you think this is good," Akechi said from the other side of the table, "you should take the effort to come on live band day. There's a whole other… power to the performance of a live jazz session. Hours of improvisation, complex and organic, giving birth to melody from chaos," he said in the same reverential tone as parishioners reserved for God. "It reminds me of the euphoria I feel when I solve a case and the holding cell door slams closed."

Akira opened his eyes. "Holding cell? Most people would think a detective's job done when the case is solved. Report filed."

The private detective gave a derisive snort. "Maybe people who think TV show detectives and the denouement implying a criminal will receive justice is the end of the story. But cases routinely stall on desks and it's not until something has a court date that I can relax." Akechi took a sip of his drink. "Because that's what it takes to stop evil men. When the charges can't be stopped. That or dropping dead."

"Dropping dead?"

Akechi gave a small laugh, the sound just practiced enough to raise the hair on the transfer student's neck. "I suppose it's not quite to my Detective Prince persona, but I admit I've read more than a few obituaries with great satisfaction." He picked up his Magic Fizz and swirled it in the glass. "I must beg your apologies, I end up talking much more than I expect with you."

Akira finished his mocktail, set it down, and projected his best subdued smile even if he felt like he and the detective were in the middle of a shogi match. "We'll have to do this again, but I should go before I miss the last trains."

Friday, 19 August 2016
Afternoon
Yongen, Leblanc

With no sounds of customers floating up from the cafe downstairs, Morgana trotted down to the sound of running water in the sink. Blue eyes met grey ones behind glasses and they shared a small nod before he went back to finishing the last of the lunch rush's dishes. With neither rain nor a heat warning, more people were out and about and that meant the breakfast rush Boss enlisted Joker for went all the way into lunch. Those grey eyes were distant, but his posture lacked the hunch of his more nervous periods, so the transfer student must have been glad to keep himself busy.

Morgana sat down against the far booth seat and pondered. At first, he thought Joker was tireless, but it didn't take long before the reality of human limits caused a crash. At least he wasn't doing that as often with exercising himself to exhaustion before bed. Now that the team leader had a minute to think about it, he wasn't pushing and running through every crowd anymore.

The bell rang, but he recognized the stomping footfalls even before Oracle called out, "I require coffee!" She walked without the spring he expected from her step after she awakened to Marcus Drusus, slumping into a chair in front of the manga arranged on the counter. She dug her fingers into her hair and growled.

Joker finished rinsing his latest dish and walked over, drying his hands. "Not having much luck?"

"No!" Oracle roared. When Boss cleared his throat, she shrank back on the bar seat and mumbled, "Sorry." She held her head in her hands again. "It's not even that I'm not making progress. This seemed to be so much easier before. It's not like I stopped, why is it more difficult now than two years ago?"

"You've learned a lot, Oracle," Morgana said, pacing over to hop onto the seat next to her. "But don't forget that other people are also learning. You might have even taught them a trick or two, before you withdrew from the world. So it makes sense that even as good a hacker as you were before, the job might be more difficult now."

Joker folded and set the towel down. "Maybe the problem is you're just beating your head against the wall trying the same old solution when there's a quicker, easier one you aren't trying because you're not looking at it with a clear mind. I used to think that mathematical derivatives were a pain in the ass, but Hifumi taught me a couple tricks for speeding through them and checking your answer. Take a break for a while and do something else, then take a different angle of attack."

Boss set a cup of blended coffee in front of the girl. "Can you two get that cat out of here? We're still open for business!"

Oracle spat, "Blah! I waited until after the lunch rush was over, nobody comes here except for breakfast." She grabbed the team leader by his whiskered cheeks. "Do a trick for me."

"Ow!" Morgana cried, yanking himself away and retreating two chairs away.

"You shouldn't do that," Joker reprimanded her. He looked to Boss. "She do stuff like that back in Shinjou?"

The restaurateur shrugged. "Wakaba didn't like animal hair on her clothes so she never picked up a pet." He chuffed in amusement. "Which is funny, as much a mess as you two made finger-painting."

"I was five!" Oracle protested. "I hadn't even memorized the periodic table yet."

Metal shuffled as Joker pulled a drawer open and stacked spoons. "Two? You're telling me Director Isshiki did finger-painting? It's hard to imagine the director doing something so… mundane."

Boss chuckled. "She marched to the beat of her own drum, but she was still human. Got sick every November when the flu came 'round."

Oracle tapped her booted toes against the bar, a nostalgic smile spreading over her face. "I remember making chicken noodle soup from the can. It was my cooking accomplishment of the year." A blush spread over her cheeks. "I forgot to take it out of the can once. At least the microwave door kept the fire inside."

Joker continued stacking spoons away. "With all the manufacturing, it seemed like every school had a carpentry club. You ever get into that?"

"Naw," Oracle blurted. "Only thing I was ever interested in doing with my hands was typing. If it wasn't electronic, I wasn't interested." Her feet kicked the bar again. "I guess I should be glad Mom bought me computers and encouraged me to get into programming."

Metal clacked as Joker progressed. "Wanted to get started raising a backup prankster to drive my old man crazy?"

She waved a hand at him. "Houzan wasn't even there until five years ago. Mom said there weren't enough women in science and technology. As soon as I expressed interest in computers, she couldn't get me computers or books fast enough." Her kicking stopped and her gaze drooped to the counter as a finger traced the wood grain. "Mom was always so proud when I got something working."

Boss nodded. "Liked her trips, too. She always looked forward to taking you to that river cruise down Mogami Park every year."

Oracle's finger continued tracing the wood grain. "I never thanked her for those. I kept pestering her for Duck Burger."

Boss smiled. "She was good at putting two and two together. That's what made her such a good administrator, always able to lay down the foundation. And she liked her play." He bumped Joker's arm. "You get your hands on those giant candy canes she liked decorating with, 'round Christmas?"

"That was her doing?" Joker slid the spoon drawer closed and started on chopsticks. "I thought she stopped at the morning office stretching session."

She, Joker, and Boss traded stories about the ex-director of Blue Cove, but Oracle's shoulders drooped more with each passing story until she started sniffling halfway through Boss's recounting of a downtown matsuri in Shinjou.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" Boss said.

Her eyes welled over and Joker abandoned the kitchen work to dash around the counter. "Hey, what is it?"

When he reached an arm over her shoulders, Oracle latched onto him with fierce strength. "I was too big a baby to see how good I had it. There were so many things… so many times I never…" she hiccuped, "told Mom what she meant to me."

Morgana returned to the seat next to Oracle despite the danger to his cheeks and pressed a paw against her leg. "Remember when she hugged you after you had that temper tantrum with the cups? She loved you even when times were tough. There's no way a woman that smart didn't see your affection."

Boss came out from behind the counter to rest a hand on the girl. She didn't let go of Joker, but she did lean into the new touch. He rested a hand on the transfer student as well, and to Morgana's eyes it looked like the boy settled against the restaurateur's hand as well. It took another few minutes before her tears stopped and her breathing settled, but between both men holding her up, she got there. "Don't you worry about that, Futaba. She knew." He sat up, but let his hands linger on the kids' shoulders. "I'll be here as long as you need me." Boss's eyes glanced to the transfer student and that hand tensed. "Uh, I mean, not like I want to hold you in or anything, but…"

Sputtering a laugh, Oracle straightened on her seat and wiped her face. "Sojiro, you're like the stuffy uncle of the family who keeps the house so we all have a place to come back to." Then her gaze fell on Joker and narrowed, a sharp grin spreading across her face. "And Akira's like the cool uncle with the hot girlfriend."

Joker's face went red as a tomato. "F-Futaba!"

Oracle threw her head back and cackled.

Friday, 19 August 2016
Early Evening
Shibuya, Protein Lovers' Gym

Stepping out of the showers, Akira pressed a corner of the towel against his ear and tilted his head to try to get out the last water. When another two men stepped in and started changing out of sweaty gym clothes, the transfer student edged away what little he could without actually touching any more of the busy gym changing room floor. Living and working in Tokyo forced him to get more used to other people, and he'd used public baths often when his mother locked him out at Inaba, but that didn't overwrite years on years of waiting until the deep of night to shower at the Smiling Mountain Mental Institute.

Alliance Force, Assemble! sang out from his cubby.

Akira rushed his pants on and checked the caller ID. Instead of Hifumi, he saw Crossroads Bar. Curious if there was an incident with the drunk reporter. "Funeral Director, Hadley Newham."

A beat passed before a gravely voice that could have come from a two-meter-tall man who'd been smoking cigarettes since childhood spoke, "I guess the humor could work in a bar. Is Kurusu Akira there? Kaho-chan called out for a family illness."

Swallowing, Akira hoped he hadn't just cost himself a job. Maybe Makoto was right that he should cut back on his joke answers. "This is Akira. I'll be there ASAP."

Lala thanked him and hung up. Akira attacked his wet hair with the towel again before dressing the rest of the way, then heading to the train for Shinjuku's Kabukichou neighborhood. Crowds of people choked the station and crammed the train, but having a destination and time limit helped him power through.

While on the way, his phone buzzed and the Phantom Thief chat lit up when Hifumi logged in. [Apologies for taking so long, Mother just left for her second job. What was the last calling card, just so I can know what kind of poetic or rhetorical devices you used?]

Futaba sent, [It was mine. I was lost in a mire of doubt and self-hatred after my mother died. Was killed, actually. Maybe by the same people out there causing mental shutdowns like the train conductor, which forced the resignation of the Minister of Transportation.]

Yuuki's ID brightened. [Think it's the same as berserk episodes like the one that revealed Mitsubishi's mileage scandal and forced Aikawa to resign?]

[I didn't know they went so high up. Maybe that black mask guy Kaneshiro mentioned is real. He must be super busy,] Ryuji sent.

Ann texted, [I'm just glad you're with us.]

[I see,] Hifumi sent. [Kitagawa-kun, what was on your calling card?]

[I did not have one,] he replied. [I was too afraid to step outside of the shadow of Madarame which was smothering me. It wasn't until the indomitable courage of Ann, who brought me into Sensei's Palace, that I awakened to my suppressed need to rebel against avarice. It is a change of heart, but of a sort more like yours when you decided to stand up to your mother.]

Three dots danced next to Ryuji's ID. [So we had sloth for Futaba, and greed for that washed-up old artist. I still think greed made more sense than gluttony for Kaneshiro.]

Makoto replied, [We were looking for best fit from the vices in the Psychomachia since that's what we started with Kamoshida. From the outside I would have thought wrath would be the trait of a mob boss, but from the things we saw in his heart he was desperate to consume all the wealth of others so he wouldn't feel weak again. That made Kaneshiro a better fit for gluttony.]

Hifumi texted, [So do we work from wrath against Mother? She did say she had Sasaki's son's legs broken.]

Akira decided to contribute his own suspicions. [She also told Hifumi to lose her title match, and she's been involved in bet-fixing and money laundering from the files I saw in Kaneshiro's palace. Maybe greed?]

Ryuji replied, [I don't think so. From all the stuff we saw in her palace, I think money and even fame is just a means to an end. She went ape shirt when she caught Hifumi making out with her boyfriend. Damn, that was hot.]

The transfer student felt the embarrassed resignation when Hifumi sent, [I can't believe you saw me and Nobuyuki.]

Even though he was thinking it, Ryuji was the one who sent, [Who? I thought your Mom said some name starting with a K.]

[Kyousuke?] Hifumi replied.

[Kazuma,] Ryuji texted.

[A collection. You go, girl!] Futaba sent. [Akira, you've got competition for the heart of Hifumi!]

Three dots danced next to Hifumi's ID for several seconds. [Please don't say such things, Futaba-chan!]

Makoto sent, [Can we all get back on track? Futaba, how is that progress on hacking Medjed's website going?]

[Oh, I finished that hours ago. I put a timer on a botnet to rewrite the root site after we get out of Hifumi's mom's palace tomorrow, as well as email a bunch of incriminating file images to the police. I thought it would be cool for Medjed and Hifumi's mom having a change of heart hitting the headlines at the same time.]

Yusuke texted, [Does it not take several days for a heart to actually change after the Shadow is defeated? Sensei withdrew from the public for almost a week, and you were unresponsive for more than 2 days.]

[Crap, lemme go change that timer.]

[Leave it,] Makoto sent. [We've delayed letting the world know Medjed is defeated for long enough. How can you be sure that one hacker hasn't skipped town?]

[He ordered replacement parts from his work computer and still hasn't gotten his new CPU fan yet.] Futaba replied. [Cheapskate won't even pay for rush delivery when he's not spending other people's money. Just the cash he's embezzling from NTT. And as often as he's gaming on his work computer, it's not like he needs his home computer right away.]

Hifumi texted, [So you all have been using the Psychomachia as the basis for the calling cards?]

[It's the clearest organization of vices I know of that doesn't put veneration of authority in the center,] Akira sent. [As we are protesting the corruption of society innate in stratification, it seemed inappropriate to use Confucianism.]

[There's an element of pride, the source of all other sins, in Mother. However, I don't think that's the root of HER sin.]

Futaba texted, [Bastet: Agreed. Vanity and bitterness aplenty, but pride feeds her palace rather than making it.] A beat later, she added, [Somebody else back me up, our leader is basically Bastet, right?]

[Can we all focus?] Makoto shot out. [I don't think greed fits any more than pride or wrath. She's given up too many opportunities to make money in order to isolate Hifumi. I could even imagine one of those arranged marriages, but she spent a lot to find blackmail on the industry leaders who approached her for such offers. Sloth doesn't seem appropriate either, as she is discouraging others and not herself. If she is indulgent in herself, perhaps gluttony?]

[Mother is measured in all she does,] Hifumi pointed out. [Even with her sins laid bare in that cognitive place, I never got the sense she wanted to throw all control to the wind.]

[Isn't it envy?] Ryuji sent. [She never says it, but everything she did was all about cutting down people who had something she didn't. Hifumi for being hotter than she was at her age, her bosses for having more power than she did, business people for being richer than she is.]

Three dots danced next to Ann's ID. [Ryuji astounds again. That not only made sense, I think it's right on the nose.]

[Hey, I can figure things out, you know!]

Hifumi texted, [Having reviewed the Psychomachia, I can never think of a time in Mother's life that she would have been praised for her kindness. Her wit or work ethic, yes. She's been generous, though that may be calculated gestures. Mother praised me for getting good grades or maintaining a look she picked out for me. But Papa is the one who praised me for choosing what _I_ liked. As kindness is the opposition to envy, I think envy is the most appropriate.]

"…exit left," the subway's automated announcer intruded over the uproar in the transit car.

[Agreed,] Akira sent. [I'm heading to work, I'll trust you guys to finish the calling card without me.]

Friday, 19 August 2016
Evening
Shinjuku, Crossroads Bar

After the first wave left, the bar owner had Akira pull the shutters to close off the ex-dance-floor and funnel people to the bar counter. Despite being the end of the week, not many people came in, leaving Lala to catch up on inventory while he had to entertain the poor slobs who came to drown their sorrows.

Like a snippy office lady with short, dark hair and didn't like hearing that Lala wasn't available. "Lala always entertains me!"

Akira gave as flourished a bow as he could behind the constrained space behind the bar. "Mama Lala is indisposed, tonight you have the privilege of meeting the Director of Government Transparency, Dale Neverknow."

She looked at her half-full glass. "I think I'm almost drunk enough for that to be funny." She took a deep glug, then plopped it down onto a battered paper coaster. "C'mon, havin' better lines than my old boyfriend ain't a high bar."

There was a spark in her eyes that contrasted with the angry hunch of her shoulders and made it impossible for Akira to look away. He wiped water spots from a glass out of the mechanical dishwasher that needed somebody to look at its hard water filter. "He hurt you?"

She let out a long huff, then took a deep glug of her beer. "Naw. But never trust a man who's got a train of girls behind 'im."

Akira set his glass down, then started on the next one. "Can't he still be kind and loyal to you? What if none of his previous relationships worked out?"

"Pah!" the woman spat – more literally than in most cases. "Guys who can't stick with a girl are the worst." She leveled a glare at him. "You one'o those types, low-key handsome fella with a trail of broken hearts?"

"No!" He almost dropped his glass, wiping at it with far more force than necessary. He took a breath to keep his tone down, drunks tended to have a hair trigger. "My… a girl I like had a few boyfriends in the past. But I still think about her every day. She's nice, and smart, everything I never realized I wanted in a girl. What kind of horrible reason is it to reject someone just because I can't be her first kiss?"

The office lady tilted her beer glass back and forth on the paper coaster, staring at the beer sloshing inside. "Huh. Never thought 'bout it like that before." A quiet few moments passed as he wiped spotted glasses and music floated out of ceiling speakers. "I don' like this conversation any more. Can we go back to those dumb names before?"

Akira set down a polished glass, then picked up another clean-but-water-spotted one. "Maybe you've seen my late brother's movie, Hell No. He was the lone man in the woods, Denny Juan Heredatt." When she didn't respond, he added, "You know, before the killer came out of the woods?"

She took another gulp. "I hate horror movies."

Akira struggled to keep a frown off his face. Hifumi was so much easier company than this woman, even when she didn't like his joke names she had a funny riposte to lead the conversation where she wanted. "My last boss didn't like them either. Richard Tater always had to have everything his way."

She stared at him.

Akira started wiping down another glass. "Really? Dick Tater?"

She took another glug. "I think I may want another."

Friday, 19 August 2016
Late Evening
Shinjuku, Crossroads Bar

Coming back in from delivering another drunk to a taxi, Akira returned behind the bar. Only two people remained, one tapping a nervous beat onto the counter and the other sipping a mixed drink.

The proprietress finished mixing another cocktail and handed it to the nervous man, then turned to the transfer student in long sleeves. "Thanks for coming to fill in for Kaho-chan. Just having somebody else to help clean-up and entertaining my customers frees me up. Not all of them are as demanding as Kasumi-chan, but she's always in a worse mood at the end of the week. I'm surprised how long you kept up your train of stories and jokes. She might not laugh much when she's drinking, but she really did appreciate it."

The front door swung open and another office worker who looked too tired to properly wear his business suit trudged in. His necktie was undone and the suit jacket looked rumpled and one size too large, though it might have been due to an awkward hunch. He plopped into the seat once occupied by the snippy office lady. "Can I get a strong one tonight, Lala-chan?"

"Of course, Futoshi-chan." She reached back to a bottle of aged rum. "White grapefruit juice, kiddo." The transfer student nodded and helped her assemble the cocktail. Once it sat on the counter before the battered office worker, it looked like it took all his energy just to take it in hand. Lala rested a hand on her hip. "Boss bullying you again?"

Futoshi took a long sip, holding his glass with both hands as if sitting at a tea ceremony. "Any time I try to point out a flaw in his plans, even if it'll be worse for all of us, he makes sure I know I'm lower than him. He'll ask about how I liked licensing, as if I didn't work for ten years to get out of there. And even when he doesn't know I'm there, he's always calling me useless. No matter how many structural drawings I fix, somehow he gets all the credit."

Lala wagged a hand. "Those kind of people are the worst."

Akira looked up from the sink behind the counter and dried his hands. Those people weren't doing anything technically illegal, but made life a living hell for people like him and more. "You ever think of asking the Phantom Thief to change his heart?"

Futoshi finished a deep sip, despair in his eyes. "The vigilante who took down Kaneshiro and Madarame?" He lifted his glass again. "He may be real, but no way would he care about my problems. He hasn't even done anything about Medjed, and they'll destroy the economy in a couple days. It wouldn't take much after crashing the stock market, with how interconnected everything is."

Lala watched the transfer student take out his phone and open the Phansite. "Oho, you really think the Phantom Thief can steal his stress away?"

Futoshi let out a bitter laugh.

Akira knew he couldn't – or shouldn't – make any promises without knowing how the whole group would vote. It might have been easy to guess back when it was just him, Morgana, Ryuji and Ann. But they'd doubled their number since then. "Can't hurt to put in a request, right? What's his name?"

The battered office guy set his glass down and stared at the lowered level for several seconds. "Kishi Shinsuke."

Akira typed in the name and held out his phone. "Like this?" The salaryman squinted at his phone for a minute before nodding, so the student brought back his phone and hit 'submit'. "And now it's out there."

Lala smiled. "Aren't you the charity worker, trying to help everybody out? Well, come on, the night's late and you should be heading home. You're still a minor and Shinjuku is dangerous at night."

Akira smirked. "You're right. There are people like me out."

AN: The PSIA is the Public Security Intelligence Agency, Japan's loose equivalent to the FBI in the US.

Aikawa was the president of Mitsubishi Motors Corp until his resignation in May, 2016 for the mileage scandal.

Hell No, the Sensible Horror Film is too funny not to mention when I get the chance. There's not actually a lone man in the woods there, but the trope is common enough to work in the cliché of the victim who hears the antagonist too late.