Persona 5: Daywatch

Saturday, 20 August 2016
Early Evening
Yongen, Takemi Medical Clinic

Doctor Takemi noticed four people walk into her waiting lobby, their dress brighter than the usual drab clothing. But this was summer, people got adventurous when it was hot and their work or school closed. She finished her over-the-phone argument with one of her medication suppliers and bashed the 'disconnect' button with her thumb. It didn't feel very satisfying, but slamming it onto the receiving station just for it to bounce behind her desk was even less so. She scribbled a few notes and tried not to notice how many of her once-reliable suppliers had backed out. So much for taking down Kaneshiro solving all her problems. Well, no point keeping the patients waiting. She slid the window open.

"…just a little tense," a girl in a slimming navy-blue dress, and favoring her right wrist, said. The doctor noted the frizzy-haired boy who refused to take proper care of himself had all his focus on her.

The Niijima girl squared her shoulders and turned to face the other girl a little more straight-on, which angled her away from the front desk. "You flinched and almost lost the overhead strap when the train accelerated. At least see if Doctor Takemi needs you to put on a tension wrap or take some anti-inflammatories. The vast majority of our injuries in the Metaverse are psycho-somatic, but there is a degree of spill-over and treatment can prevent them from becoming real and lasting detriments."

The tuxedo cat popped out of Frizzy's leather satchel and gave a proud meow. If she didn't know any better, the cat was trying to fit into the conversation.

Takemi barked, "What have you kids gotten into this time?" She would never admit she loved the way they jumped.

"Do you mind if I go first?" Niijima said, waiting for the others to shake their heads before she rose, still pressing a hand against her stomach.

Takemi took her to the exam room, locked the door, and went through the standard checkup for somebody she suspected to be the victim of a yakuza beating. Niijima bore no marks on her face or neck, but once her poet blouse was off the old bruises on her abdomen and forearms were hard to miss. The doctor noted faint singes like electrical burns on her arm. "That's odd, I thought Yatsuhashi was caught in the Shibuya sweep. Did you get these today, or several days ago?"

Niijima placed her hand over the singe, though seemed less ashamed and more confused. She looked to the kids' tuxedo cat. "If you're right that she already knows… that, I think telling her would only help her prescribe effective treatments."

The tuxedo cat slumped on the floor in front of the girl and gave a defeated mew.

Niijima looked the doctor in the eye. "All right. The saying does go 'never lie to your doctor or attorney.' We're the Phantom Thieves." She paused to gauge the lack of reaction in the doctor. "This is a little hard to explain without sounding irrational, but we don't change hearts in the real world, we do so in a place where physics and cognition are… no longer differentiable."

Takemi sketched down another couple of notes. "And after the peyote wears off?"

Niijima's eyebrow quirked up. "Pay oti?"

The cat paced in a circle, and if the doctor didn't know any better she would've sworn he gave a snarky meow at the girl.

"Crown, button, cactus?" Takemi offered. The girl's cluelessness seemed genuine. "Psychoactive alkaloids, particularly mescaline. They're particularly common in 'spirit journeys'."

Niijima displayed the electrical singe on her arm. "Could an imaginary trip cause electrical burns? Or leave Ann-san untouched by frostbite when the rest of us have trace marks, thanks to her Persona? We haven't been here many times, but I'm sure you've noticed that I've never had marks from heat burns. I'm pretty sure the others will have some."

The kid had a point, but the doctor wouldn't just concede such a wild concept so easily. There were still ways for tripping kids to hurt themselves while high. "Are you telling me you kids wait until the witching hour to fight fragments of the collective unconscious?"

Niijima's widened eyes seemed even more red in the indirect lighting. "You know about Shadows…? Wait, what do you mean 'witching hour'?"

Takemi sat back in her chair. "You're not referencing that supposed Kirijo document leaked by that handsome Detective Prince?"

Niijima and the cat both bristled, the latter letting out a brief but angry yowl. She gave a nod at him, then fixed her focus back on the doctor. "We have nothing to do with the Defective Detective. That hypocrite dares to call us glory hounds when he regularly takes to the air to prod a reaction out of judges or industry leaders. We risk our lives to free hearts from distortions that effectively imprison them."

The cat punctuated her statement with a clipped meow and thrust out his chest.

"It's too dangerous to show you," Niijima said, "But what we do is real. None of us had much of a choice to start, but we can't stop when the stakes are so high." She grit her teeth. "I… I sat back and told myself that Kamoshida was none of my business, so I buried my head in the sand as long as whatever rumors involving him didn't impact me personally. I could have saved so many people if I'd just been less of a selfish coward. Being a Phantom Thief isn't just idealism to free people from criminals' distortions, it's my penance. It's my oath never to let what happened… happen again. If you were serious about wanting the truth, you have it. Now it's up to you to listen and treat us based on the truth, or reject everything we've told you. If we can't be honest with you and expect the same back, we can't be your patients any more than you can be our doctor."

A flicker of anger passed through Takemi, but the girl had a point. She'd been cataloging strange injuries for the past couple months, and while she expected the big confrontation to happen with that frizzy-haired boy… one of these kids, these Phantom Thieves still threw the gauntlet down in front of her. The college-educated part of her wanted to say the idea sounded too crazy to accept, but the evidence was confounding every 'real world rational' theory she'd come up with to date. If she was going to keep an eye on them, she had to take what they said when she demanded the truth. She took her clipboard and sketched down a few notes. "I guess that means I'll save the aloe gel for the others." She snatched a prescription sheet from her desk, scribbled down a few things, then handed it to her. "You can do stretching, but no heavy exercise for the next couple days."

As the doctor got up to fetch some prepared mixes from the refrigerator, the Niijima girl balked. "That's it?"

Takemi stepped into what was intended to be another patient exam room turned supply and refrigeration cabinet, retrieved a small jar, then returned to the exam room. "I'll keep my eyes open, Niijima-chan. But be honest, would you believe someone if they said they whisked away to a mystical world where they got bruises that look a lot like the low-key torture yakuza inflicts? The only reason why I'm considering this is that only a few of you are coming in with frostbite in the summer, or minor electrical burns on some but not others. The yakuza is either too organized or too lazy to inflict such a strange array of injuries on kids. They'll either kill all of you or beat all of you the same way on the same day." She tried to swallow down the bitterness from knowing she played a role in that, however indirect it was, then handed over the cool jar. "This is a mixture of my own formation. Clean the affected region as much as you can first, then apply directly. It'll inhibit inflammation and speed up healing. Unlike the medicated bandages Frizz buys for you guys, this needs at least some air flow for best effects. As hot as the summer is, I doubt heavy clothing will be an issue."

Niijima took the jar, then waited for a print-out of exact instructions and side-effect warnings and departed for the waiting room.

Takemi followed, more to steal a glimpse of the kids' acting before they knew a doctor's eye was on them. Frizz had an arm around a new girl in that slimming, navy-blue dress over a budding figure. The princess-style hair cut looked generic to a boring degree to the doctor, but some boys went nuts for it. The way they leaned against each other, her eyes closed in shallow sleep and his arm hooked around her was the most relaxed she'd ever seen Kurusu. She made a mental note to tease him for it after a proper exam. No reason not to have a little fun as long as he was healthy.

"Please," the standing boy with blue hair pleaded as he scribbled with mad frenzy on a sketchpad, "Hold your earlier positions for a few more minutes."

The girl blinked out of her nap and turned a no-nonsense look on him. "Kitagawa-kun, it's been a long day and I just want to get back home and make sure Mother is okay. I know you all have been doing this for a while, but… well… it's my mother. And I have so many questions. What happens to her blood pressure or oxygen level? Will she need more vitamins, or will it be okay if she goes a couple days without eating?"

"Well look at the blossoming nurse," Takemi said from the inner doorway.

The girl stiffened, then slipped behind a formal mask, stood, and gave a brief bow. "Oh. Good evening, Doctor. I'm no nurse, I just picked up a few things while helping them look after Papa."

Takemi waved her clipboard. "Whatever. So which kiddo's next?"

Frizz and both girls looked to the blue-haired boy scribbling away at a sketchpad. Then they rolled their eyes and looked between each other. "You go ahead," Kurusu said.

She turned her right wrist with a great deal of care. "It's just a little bit of tension, I'll be fine with a bit of light rest. You go ahead."

The tuxedo cat meowed up at them, then gave a rather pointed meow to Frizz, who let out a huff and blabbed, "Fine, I'll go next."

The tuxedo cat slipped in with, and over the next few minutes Takemi went through the usual routine. Kurusu tried to play down his injuries, but a no-nonsense tone and threat to double his expenses got his long-sleeved shirt off. The redness of a minor burn marred his stomach and early bruising splotched across his rib cage, arms, and legs. "Tell the guy he hit like a girl?"

Kurusu snorted. "I never even said that before I met Makoto."

Takemi felt a corner of her lip quirk up, but kept a smile off her face. Being a little progressive didn't make up for recklessness. "I didn't see you favoring one side or another. Any joint pain?"

He shook his head. As stubborn as the boy was, he knew not to outright lie to her about medical issues.

Takemi retrieved another jar of topical analgesic with some aloe from her bedroom planter to help the burn. "Wash the affected regions and apply directly." She sat down and printed out a set of instructions, but instead of handing it straight to him, she turned in her chair. "Don't think I haven't noticed you picked up another stray out there."

If she didn't know better, the doctor would've sworn the cat gave a resigned meow like 'you've done it now'.

Kurusu hunched as if preparing for combat. "Hifumi is not 'some stray', she's the reason we changed her mother's heart!"

The cat meowed.

Kurusu turned his gaze away from the cat. "I didn't say there couldn't be other reasons like the blackmail or money laundering."

"Hm." Takemi recalled the way he had an arm around her even after sitting down. He'd helped the other girls in, but always disengaged. "I was assuming that adorable little troll you brought in the other day was joking. I figured you'd be the shy type who wouldn't pick up a girlfriend until after college." She pursed her lips and thought. He seemed the repressed type who overcompensated when the floodgates burst. "Are you two already prepared for safe sex? High school is not a good life stage to get pregnant."

Frizz's blush went all the way to his neck. "We're not having sex! We haven't even started dating yet!"

Odd. The two resting against each other made a picture that would've fit those sappy postcards. Still, women bore the brunt of costs in an unprotected relationship. "Good, then you'll make sure to be prepared before something happens? I can't count the number of times I sold emergency contraceptives to preachy abstinence girls. If you don't want to buy condoms from a corner drugstore that's fine, I sell the basics."

His blush darkened and he covered his face with a hand. "Doc! We're both Catholic." The hand slid down, taking off his glasses with it, and his gaze slipped to the floor as he fiddled with the frames.

"Listen, kiddo," Takemi said, sitting back in her little swivel chair. "I leave the moralizing to the philosophers. I'm a doctor and I deal with the practical. Fact is, condoms and birth control do more to prevent unplanned pregnancies than shaming teenagers. Shaming just leads to more kids knowing they can't trust adults. If you think you can 'control yourself', great. It's still useful to have a backup plan. Especially if you're both… 'in the mood'."

That blush, just starting to fade, came back even stronger than before. "Doc! We haven't even kissed yet!"

Yet. So there's desire. Still, there was no point shoving a box in his hands if he would refuse to use them. And medical supplies cost money. "At least promise me you'll buy something if you even think the possibility could come up. Protection can be as important for you as it would be for her. Also, try to stop getting hurt." She turned around and picked up the bill for the previous girl, adding the items for Kurusu. "Are they paying themselves, or are you taking care of the whole bill today?"

"Oh," he said, sounding much more calm now that business was forefront. "I'll pay."

She printed out a set of directions for his topical cream, then handed it to him without fanfare. "Very well, then. Send in the next one."

He headed out, and a few seconds later entered the girl in a dress of conservative cut which still flattered her figure. She bowed as if introducing herself to a formal class, "Togo Hifumi. Please excuse the intrusion."

Takemi motioned her clipboard to the exam bed. "Siddown and relax, kid. I'm a back alley doc, not a casting manager." The girl did so, but her prim posture remained. Takemi shuffled through her desk for first-time patient paperwork. She could put it off when she still had chunks of cash come in from the yakuza, but the budget was tighter now. "So what got you? Fencing with Shiva?"

Togo-chan covered her right hand. "Oh, no. Mother's Shadow killed an enlarged cognition of Antalas while I was riding him, and I fell. My Persona appears to be the only one of the group with a shield, that's served to ward off things that hurt the others. They were so much more seriously injured, I didn't want to make a fuss when our energy was almost as short as our supplies."

The tuxedo cat hung his head and meowed.

The girl looked like she wanted to say something else to the cat before remembering the doctor. Instead, she held out her hand. "It… has been feeling a little more tight when I tilt my hand up or down."

"Lift your other hand as well," Takemi said before settling into the usual procedure for checking sprain and swelling. Nothing visible yet, but if the patient was experiencing discomfort the fluid build-up might just be taking a while. With no pain or feeling of weight in the hand or fingers, it didn't seem like there was any ligament damage, and she wasn't favoring it enough to justify an X-ray. "Rest that hand for two days. No picking up anything heavier than chopsticks tomorrow. Keep it elevated above your heart to prevent swelling or fluid build-up."

The girl's left eye tensed. "That may be a little hard. My desk and the tables at home are all lower."

Takemi fetched a cloth wist compress. "I heard you mention blood oxygen and vitamins. Where'd you learn about those things? Most kids your age have their hands full with history and grammar."

Togo-chan's green eyes fell and her shoulders drooped a fraction of a centimeter. "Papa has Guillain-Barré Syndrome. I've had to learn a fair bit about respiration and the peripheral nervous system, just as a matter of helping the nurses who see to him."

"Virally induced?"

Togo's eyes swung up to the doctor, the intensity a teenager should have returning to them. "We don't know. It started with a blood clot, but they held him for much longer than the day typical for clot treatment. Papa had arm weakness and shortness of breath after his release and suffered another collapse, and has been in and out of the hospital for over a year and a half." She brushed her hair back over her ear, eyes growing distant. "I just wish there was something more I could do. I was trying to help mother raise more money to cure Papa, but there's always some kind of new hoop or test the hospital's requiring Papa to come in for."

Takemi tapped a pen against her clipboard. "Odd, most hospitals are eager to get patients treated and back out into the world. It's bad for reputations if people have recurring complications." Unless they were trying to avoid admission of fault in causing a problem, but that wasn't her business. She handed the rolled fabric compress. "This should be enough to apply tension and limit movement, plus help you remember to keep your hand elevated. If you experience further discomfort, apply ice for no longer than twenty minutes."

Togo-chan gave a nod, but instead of getting up to go, she sat there for several awkward seconds. "Has… has Akira-kun ever… mentioned me? None of the other boys I knew were ever hesitant about physical…"

"Intimacy?" Takemi said, forcing herself to slouch in her chair so she didn't appear too interested. Let the patient decide how much she wanted to volunteer.

"No." Togo squinted for a beat. "I think… contact. He caught me from falling once or twice, but as gently as he'll hold me, it's like as soon as he realizes he's making contact he recoils. He won't hold my hand. We've been together for months and he's never even kissed me." She clasped her hands in her lap. "Every single other boy in my life either tried to force things or abandoned me the instant they came up against Mother. Akira rallied his friends to change her heart." She fidgeted with her fingers. "But now that I may have Mother back for the first time in years, I feel like he's preparing to move on and I'm losing more than I could ever gain even getting my family back."

This was fast leaving Takemi's field of expertise. "I'm a doctor of internal medicine, not a psychologist. Even if it wouldn't violate doctor-patient confidentiality I couldn't speculate on what goes through that boy's head. But you know boys are dumb."

Togo's demeanor changed in a heartbeat. The growing hunch on a beaten-in prim posture vanished and she almost hopped off the bed. "Akira is not stupid. He's smart and witty and is the only shogi partner I've had to put me in check since fourth grade."

Not expected, but not the first time Takemi had to handle a patient who didn't like hearing a doctor's opinion. "Then talk to him directly about what you want. Sometimes the smartest people overthink things." Takemi waved her clipboard at the door. "There's no sign of ligament damage, just make sure to rest your hand and keep it elevated."

Togo-chan stood, took a beat to compose herself, and gave a passing bow. "Thank you, Doctor."

Takemi stood to see her out and check the situation. Niijima-chan had departed, but the tall boy stood in the middle of her lobby, still scribbling away at that sketchpad.

The cat, padding out after Togo-chan, meowed, and Akira stepped away from the artist to protest, "I did not look like that!"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Kitagawa's voice boomed. "Art is meant to portray the slices of life we can not simply encapsulate with words. Sometimes that means the vulnerability, and sometimes the ugliness in us all!"

Thinking he was working on the sketch of Frizz and Togo-chan, Takemi stepped out from the exam room door. She caught a glimpse of a frizzy-haired boy in a high-necked trench coat before the artist flipped his sketchbook closed. "Did you need to be seen?"

The artist put his pencil away and followed her to the exam room. Once she got his asymmetric-design shirt off during the examination, she documented faded remnants of old bruises and the tense patches of skin from minor burns marred much of his torso and left arm. Most of it would be gone by tomorrow.

"The others had fresher bruises," she said as she scribbled a note page for personal files. "Didn't you kids all get injured at the same time?"

"We did," Kitagawa said as if that was all there was to say.

She'd never felt like smacking a kid with her little clipboard so much since meeting these. "So why do yours look like they're almost gone and Niijima-chan's look a day old?"

His fingers tapped along his closed sketchbook. "Makoto did focus more on healing the others than on herself." He glanced at the skin along his left arm, still bearing faint mottling from almost-healed burns. It made the doctor wonder how much more extensive it might have been. "I had been one of the more battered while defending the flank, especially when Togo-san's Shadow called fire down on us." His fingers tensed on the book. "But I could not bear to let Ann to take such a volley. To let such a smile dim would be a crime against art… against beauty itself."

These children were going to drive her to grey early. She pulled in a deep breath. Focus on the injuries in front of you. "Since your bruising is at such a late stage, I don't think topical medications would be beneficial enough. Aloe is one of the more frequent burn ointments, but as faded as yours appear almost any moisturizing cream should provide relief."

He gave a nod and pulled his shirt back on without sign of objection.

Takemi glanced back to her notes. "You wouldn't happen to know what is going on between Kurusu and Togo-chan?"

Kitagawa straightened his shirt. "I do not believe they are lovers yet, though it is difficult to decide which one is more enamoured of the other." A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Rarely in all of life have I seen one so strongly in the throes of fear or adoration as Akira. Ann is the bright soul who brings life everywhere she goes, but I never expected her friends to be so inspiring. I have gone from writer's block to the fortune of not enough canvasses to depict his emotions."

Takemi finished scratching down some notes. "I'm surprised you got that skittish boy's permission to put his likeness in public."

Kitagawa blinked. "Ah. I should do that. The idea that a painter must ask permission is still new to me. Art is not just a creation that beings notoriety to the painter, but a gift to the world." He clasped his hands on his knee. "I did not realize it could be insensitive a thing to ask to paint someone until Akira explained Ann was one of Kamoshida's victims. Before that point, all I understood was the natural world is filled with beauty, why would the human body be exempt? Sensei painted anything he wished, and received nothing but praise."

Takemi could almost feel another grey hair pop into existence on her scalp. "I'm not old enough for this shit," she muttered. She massaged her forehead. "Don't you kids have parents to talk things out with?"

Kitagawa's tone took on a note of resignation. "I never knew a father but Sensei, and Madarame killed my mother by taking her anti-seizure medication. Makoto-san's father and mother are dead. Sakamoto-san has only spoken of his mother mother, who only this year achieved a single job sufficient to support herself and her son. Before then, she like Hifumi's mother worked multiple jobs to support the household. Ann-san's parents are the only ones I know of who are both alive and maintain regular contact, but they are abroad most of the year to keep their fashion business afloat. Akira's are both alive but… have not been positive forces in his life."

Takemi blinked. Another beat passed before she managed, "I think I understand what a cartoon character feels like when she pulls a random rope and is buried beneath a ton of anvils. You kids deserve a therapist – a good one. I'm afraid that's outside of my field."

"As Akira's father was a psychologist, he is… disinclined to open up to one. Ann-san believed that he and Makoto were beginning a low-key relationship, but after helping him with Togo-san's mother I suspect he will seek her out."

The doctor pursed her lips. "That's kind of what I'm concerned about. I doubt he's even gotten the birds and bees speech, so he's even less prepared for teenage hormones than most. And if he's been starved for affection his whole life?"

The artist took his shirt back in hand, running a thumb over the light fabric. "You think he would… accost her?"

Takemi considered mentioning the girl's attraction might surpass Frizz's, but that might violate doctor patient confidentiality. "Women have libido as well as men. We're just culturally expected not to explore it. As far as I'm concerned, that's just responsible for more unprepared girls winding up pregnant. After which we're treated like pariahs instead of the men who made it happen." She waved her clipboard as if to shove the conversation tangent away. "Romance manga may portray sex like the happy ending after which there is no story, but that's not real life. Consequences happen and I just want to make sure two kids don't push each other to a place they're not prepared to be."

Kitagawa ran a thumb over the fabric of his shirt with an asymmetric stripe. "I find it hard to contemplate. Togo-san keeps to herself, even actively wards away very interested boys. And Akira rarely lets an opportunity to praise her virtue go by."

She couldn't be sure which might be more concerning: the possibility of both expecting the other to be the safe, stable one or them having wildly differing expectations in their unfolding relationship. "Well, there's only so much I can do as a doctor of internal medicine. One last question so I can start adjusting your little band's particular treatments: why is it that the others all had minor heat marring, except Niijima. Or trace electrical burns but you?"

"Her Persona inclines to fire. Mine, Goemon, inclines to lightning. Magic of that particular sort has diminished impact on either ourselves or our Personas."

Takemi set her clipboard to the desk and dug through the drawer with acetaminophen. She didn't know which one made her feel more crazy: that the kids sounded like they were talking about an anime or the fact that her observations were lining up with what they were saying. Surely no other adult had to deal with this madness.

Kyoto, Police Department

Kurosawa unleashed a mighty sneeze, sending him stumbling into another cop coming down the hall from the opposite direction.

"Gesundheit," Inspector Hasegawa said, steadying the other officer before continuing on.

Yongen, Takemi Medical Clinic

Takemi popped two pills and washed it down with the lukewarm remains of her water bottle. "Send Frizz back in here so I can get this bill taken care of, and go get some rest. As long as you take tomorrow easy you shouldn't have any permanent complications."

Kitagawa donned his fashionable shirt and departed for the lobby.

Takemi reviewed her notes. Her patients were telling her they were facing magic, and that was the plausible explanation. Ugh. It might be easier to figure out what to do about the lovestruck morons. She drained the rest of her water bottle. "I'm going to need a vacation."

"I hear Amagi Inn is pleasant any time of year," Kurusu said from the lobby door.

She tossed her empty water bottle at him. "You're the one giving me grey hairs. And make sure you talk to that poor girl before you drive her neurotic. Maybe if you'd follow through a little more you'd be less wound-up as well."

He nodded, but his gaze shot to the floor and his cheeks went pink.

Saturday, 20 August 2016
Late Evening
Yongen, Back Streets

Akira stepped out of the Takemi Medical Clinic, holding the door for the others. It felt like his mind whirled faster than the buzzing insects. He wanted to try to hold onto the victorious high from seeing Togo Mitsuyo beg forgiveness and promise to change as she faded away, but between his talk with Doctor Takemi and being so close to Hifumi, it was hard not to think about where he wanted the relationship to go. She incited desire in every fiber of his being. Wasn't it enough that he confessed he liked her more than was appropriate? Akira fidgeted with his hands in his pockets. How would he even start? What would the others do?

He could imagine Ryuji slinging an arm around her, palming her toned posterior. "Hey, we just beat up your mom. Wanna fuck?"

The slap would echo across the alleys. For a beat, Akira cringed and added that to the list of things to pray forgiveness for. Even Ryuji wouldn't be that insensitive.

"Hifumi-san…?" he ventured at the same instant she said, "Akira?"

He shot a step back, then caught his stance and held his ground. Once he got his tongue working it spilled out as his heart rate skyrocketed, "I know it's a bad time to tell you when you're still scared about what exactly is going to happen to your mother, but I can't stop thinking about you. Nobody's ever pushed me to be better a better person but still accepted me how I am, and nobody's ever been so kind and patient and I know I shouldn't keep dreaming of you especially if it's that way and I don't even know where to start and—"

Her slender hand took him by the chin and tilted his head down a bit, then slid across his neck and hooked behind. His pounding heart shot into his throat. Her eyes closed and her face tilted up as his head tilted down to meet hers. The summer heat receded, city noise faded, and even the cracked concrete under his feet disappeared as his entire world became the softest lips against his.

Then her lips parted and his followed suit in confusion before her nimble tongue slid against his.

His heart jackhammering in his chest became too much to ignore. For a beat, he stood in the rain outside Mother's rented house in Inaba, rhythmic feminine moans coming from the upstairs. His roar at Maruki played back in his mind, "I am not like her!"

His ice-cold limbs shoved and he stumbled back, falling to the ground.

His impact with the concrete brought the world back in sharp focus. The hot, muggy air. The relentless traffic. The news playing in Leblanc just meters away. And the tears filling Hifumi's eyes before she spun on the ball of her foot and took off for the train station.

Akira tried to call out to her, but between losing his breath on impact with the ground and the wrenching in his gut he couldn't emit more than a pathetic wheeze. The nausea doubled as she ran out of sight and his limbs shook so much he couldn't even hold himself up as his limbs spasmed. He had to strain just to turn onto his side, and the warring clash of somebody inside my body with the burning want for more would have had him throwing up if he had anything.

"Akira-san!" Yusuke's voice accompanied rapid footsteps. "What happened? Togo-san just ran past me as if fleeing the demons of hell."

The transfer student called on all his will and pride to shove himself to his feet despite the icy weakness in his limbs. Sheer stubbornness couldn't terminate his trembling, but despite it pushed through and shoved back at the artist's hand as he stormed into Leblanc.

The most annoying bell in existence tinkled above and Sojiro looked up from his book. "What happened to you, kid?"

Akechi, sitting at the bar, finished a sip of the coffee at his lips. "Maybe he's as annoyed by the bombastic Phantom Thief as I am." He went back to his coffee as the news anchor droned on about the hack of Medjed's website.

Akira clenched his hands and stomped up the stairs, with every move wishing he could punch himself bloody.

Sunday, 21 August 2016
Late Evening
Shibuya, Station Square

Akira's gloved hands clenched around the sign bearing Toranosuke's name. He'd done this before, but whether it was the muggy summer air or crowds, today felt worse. The excited chatter in the crowd as passers-by talked about the Phantom Thief defeating Medjed just emphasized the difference.

Toranosuke-san held up a hand to emphasize, "The fact that the Phantom Thief is being lionized is condemnation not only of the mismanagement of our government, but passivity of ourselves. Our government and our courts are slow by design. But this terrible condition is one built by men's hands, and by men's hands it can be repaired! This election season, you must vote for the vigorous leaders you want to set policy from the top, but society is not the government alone. People need to support their candidates or the changes in platform that need to happen not next election season, but now!"

A man in a dark, crisp business suit and dark tie stepped out of the passing throng. "You're never going to win the hearts and minds of the people by putting the burden on them. People want the government to take initiative without constant pushing by the people."

Toranosuke-san's eyes snapped wide. "Councilman Matsushita!" He glanced around, but only a handful of the seething crowd choking Station Square had their eyes on them. He led them to what privacy could be had at the end of the mock-up of a train car. "It's been so long since we last spoke."

Matsushita gave a smile, though it did not seem a pleasant one from the tightness on his face. "I'm surprised to see you're still here wasting your time, Yoshida." His eyes flicked to the sign Akira held. "And not even a sponsor from the Liberal Democratic Party? If you're not going all-in with the conservatives flocking to the United Future Party, you won't stand a chance without support all across the LDP's coalition. Assuming it even survives the upcoming election."

"I didn't realize politics was about surrendering to the prevailing winds," Akira spat.

The suited man drew up to his full height, which gave him several centimeters over the transfer student. "Responsible leadership is about enacting what people vote for, not forcing the will of the biggest populist of the party." He tugged his suit jacket straight, even though it was straight before. "I'm not surprised to see a high schooler misunderstand the complicated world of government. Let me guess, you think the Phantom Thief will fix everything for you?"

"No," Akira snapped. "I think people are starting to treat the Phantom Thief like a wish-granting fairy and they're getting fucking lazy."

Toranosuke stepped between them before Akira could assemble a long-winded rebuttal. "Now, now. The Phantom Thief has done undeniable good, both in direct action and galvanizing the public." He turned to face Matsushita straight on. "But the Phantom Thief is the shining example paving the way for the rest of us to follow. It would be a condemnation of ourselves not to follow bravery and defiance of corruption."

Matsushita snorted. "Defiance of corruption? I can't decide what's more pathetic. That coming from a Kuramoto Child, or…" He leaned around the pudgy politician's arm to look the transfer student straight in the eye. "Did he even explain his three strikes?"

Akira's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission to choose the company I keep. Or are you trying to pretend people never change?"

Now Matsushita threw his head back and laughed. "Change! That's rich. People don't change, they're hammered until they fit through that square hole. Even the Phantom Thief breaks his victims. Probably at the behest of a wealthy, politically-connected benefactor."

The transfer student would have lunged at the smug, suited bastard were it not for the campaigning politician's hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Don't blame him too much, Kurusu-kun." His eyes locked onto the fancy-suited man's. "For all your talk of not changing, you've changed, Matsushita-san. You didn't used to be so cut-throat. You were a Kuramoto Child as well."

Matsushita shot a step forward, driving the other politician into the train car mock-up. His tone rose out of their private conversation. "We both failed our re-election campaigns. The difference is I learned how to play political calculus. You flushed your life down the tubes. Playing to a false idea of honesty isn't how you win votes, No-Good Tora! It's by telling them what they want to hear, and feeding them a loss-leader when the heat turns up."

That white-gloved hand on Akira's shoulder tightened.

Before the transfer student could decide how to push back into the fight, a familiar dark head of hair slipped out of the crowd. Ohya declared, "A reporter's nose never fails her! I heard someone say Kuramoto Children."

Matsushita swooped in like a hawk on fish in the river.

Akira whipped out his phone and shot the reporter a text. [Don't trust that politician.]

He heard her laugh, then slap the fine-suited politician's arm as they melted into the crowd, but a beat later she replied, [I was born at night, not last night. Everybody lies, but everybody wants to know what happened to that half a billion yen.]

Akira's eyebrows shot up. "Half a billion yen?"

Pressing a white-gloved hand against his head, Toranosuke-san leaned back against the car mock-up. "The number grows with the telling. I'd ask you to take a seat, but there are none here." He took in and let out a long breath. "Have you already read about the 'three strikes' of 'No-Good Tora'?" At the transfer student's head shake, he cycled through another long breath. "I was a callow youth back then, the kind of brute who used political power like a bully uses his muscles. I had so little understanding of indirect consequences, I thought I was untouchable. Anyway, my first major mistake was taking a personal vacation instead of attending a meeting of the diet. Then I was accused of embezzling a large sum of money from the party – something on the order of three hundred million yen, if I remember the reporting after the fact."

Akira noted he didn't say he did it. Or didn't, but this wasn't the way to deflect attention. Toranosuke was clever, but seemed to put real value in integrity. If he did it, he'd have maneuvered the conversation away from the topic. "And the third?"

Toranosuke closed his eyes. "I called a voter an idiot at an open forum."

Akira snorted. "So? Most of them are."

The politician straightened and for a moment exerted the aura of a man twice his height. He held up a hand with one index finger, as if that was all the threat he needed. "Even if that might be true, a leader is a man who is so by choosing to hold himself to a higher standard, or he's no right to tell others what to do." That imposing aura diminished with a sigh. "After all, weren't you or I foolish about something once in our lives?"

Akira's face blazed and he thought of yesterday, when Hifumi graced him with a kiss and he reacted with panic. He still felt weak-kneed and shaky just thinking about it.

Toranosuke breathed out, looking like just an overweight man again. "I was already on the party's 'list' for accusations of embezzlement, so that was the last straw they needed to force me out."

Akira leaned against the wall separating the train car mock-up from the stairs down into the underground mall. "That guy was a 'Kuramoto Child' too, wasn't he?"

Toranosuke clasped his hands, his gaze on the ground. "True, though he lacked my strikes so despite losing his next election, he recovered quickly. When I failed my re-election campaign, I realized I hadn't earned my way the first time and wasn't prepared for the legislature. I resolved to be the Yoshida I should have been to start with. With the help of my wife and children to tell me from the outside what I was, I turned myself around."

He rubbed his grey-gloved hands against his burning cheeks. Did everything have to remind him of Hifumi? "Can somebody really recover if you've completely fucked yourself?"

The politician clasped his hands and looked over the boy. "There's a role of luck and political calculus in career advancement, I admit, but Matsushita and I came from similar callow backgrounds. He was a professional wrestler with dreams of heroics in the Self-Defense Forces, if you can believe that. Now he is an esteemed member of the LDP. What you have to do is tend to your quality. You're a youth with plenty of time to discover and shape himself. Why, my conviction now was tempered from the stubbornness of my foolhardy youth. If a washed-up man like me can do it, I'm sure you can as well. It seems hard, but you never know what obstacles wind up as stepping stones until looking back on it long after."

"Imagine how much further you'd be in life if people weren't always calling you 'No-Good Tora'," Akira pointed out.

"That was just Matsushita," Toranosuke riposted, though his back slouched a bit.

Akira turned against the politician, his troubles with Hifumi and his parents fading into the depths of his mind now that he had an enemy – even if that was the pudgy man's political rival. "It was 'just' him today. He didn't hesitate to accuse you loudly and in public." He pursed his lips. Having left Morgana behind when he changed for the gym where he spent most of the day trying to exercise his fears away, the team leader wasn't there for immediate consultation. "But… maybe he was just having a bad day and he'll change his mind."

That night, Akira ran a web search and punched Matsushita Hiroyuki into the Nav to find a palace candidate.

Sunday, 21 August 2016
Night
Velvet Room

The steel slab against his back where an old but functional mattress should be clued him into his environs even before Akira opened his eyes to blue velvet. He had been expecting an abduction like this for weeks after changing Futaba's heart, but nothing. Was this about the impending change of Togo's heart? He stood up and approached the barred door.

Igor interlaced his long, gloved fingers and those bloodshot eyes narrowed. "Your progress in the reformation of society has been slowed of late. Have you been allowing yourself to be distracted?"

Akira grasped the bars. "We're changing hearts and saving people, what more do you want?"

Caroline slammed her baton against the bars. Sparks flashed and a painful jolt shot through his fingers. "Our master has seen fit to speak to an ungrateful weakling like yourself. Clean that excess ear wax and try using those ears for once!"

His hands curled into fists. "We changed Togo Mitsuyo's heart! That won't just help Hifumi, there might be dozens, even hundreds of people ensnared in Kaneshiro's financial schemes that she swept up thanks to her leadership in his money laundering. And before that we saved Futaba, who thought the only way out of unending suffering was her death!"

"For one who is so enamored with a strategist, you are showing remarkably little vision," Igor said with the tone of an adult down to a petulant child. "Mankind stands on the brink of ruin. Your rehabilitation was not to save puppies from rain in the gutters, but to change the indolent ways of the masses. Your power to change hearts is to shake the very foundations, to burn away the rot that spreads through the apathetic masses who allow horrific crime after horrific crime."

Akira opened his mouth, then closed it. Was it so easy to see through his excuses? The blackmail and conspiracy all sounded noble, but he changed Mitsuyo for Hifumi.

Justine brushed her braid from her shoulder. "Small steps may be progress, Inmate. However, you have been granted power in order to surpass the limits of ordinary mortals. Changing the heart of a girl haunted by her past gave you the tools necessary to defeat an unseen enemy."

Caroline waggled her baton at him. "Just don't get too proud for defeating weaklings who hid behind their devices. No matter how many people are talking about the 'Phantom Thief'."

"And it is there," Igor said, some enthusiasm leaking back into his voice, "that ruin may be avoided. 'Phantom Thief' is whispered on the lips of people even beyond your country, now. Doors that you could not even perceive will be opened to you because of this. That is what shakes society." He slipped his hands apart, gesturing one at the transfer student in stripes. "Even before changing the frenzied girl's heart, you have known about man's intrusion into research beyond the ken of mortal minds. That very research has been stolen by those with malicious intent." That unsettling grin widened. "Will you fold to those of small minds and grandiose aims? Or shall you thwart those who seek power over all mankind?"

Akira blinked. Isn't 'power over all mankind' implicit in the expectation that he could change mankind's apathetic attitude? He searched through all the wisdom Hifumi had cultivated in him to try to give something that might tease out something useful from Igor, or the self-styled wardens. "Hearts are not cogs to be fashioned by crude design." He lifted his hands back to the barred door, closing his fingers but keeping Caroline in view. "My old man sounded like a madman when he ranted about power surpassing old mankind. Was he actually… on to something?"

Igor clasped his hands on the desk. "You know well your father's reach exceeded his grasp. But his ambition is itself a leash by those with greater designs, is it not?"

Akira's fingers tightened on rough iron. Changing the whole world seemed so far beyond him it wasn't even worth considering, but sticking his thumb in his old man's eye? "I'll give anything, do anything to see my old bastard fail. And anybody holding his leash."

Chuckling, Igor clapped his hands. "There it is, the blazing heart who shall burn down any obstacle. That is the flame which might even overcome mankind. As your accomplices on your path of rehabilitation, we shall spare no expense in cooperating with you. I grant you power worthy of one with the charge to take on the indolence of mankind."

He swished one hand, and Akira felt a wave of pressure wash through him. Even though he hadn't called out Pillar of Heaven for weeks, he saw it in his mind's eye. Stretching to infinity above, darkness and fire churned and even the cognitive 'floor' of his mindscape cracked beneath the massive column's power. As if too much for fire and darkness alone, sparks began to crackle along its surface. A choice awaited for him, but something about his conversation with Maruki caused him to flinch back.

"A-actually," Akira said, cursing himself for his slip before the immense presence of the hunched troll. "If my rehabilitation and eventual goal of reforming mankind is to be one and the same road, may I have have something that aids me in reforging the fragments of power I absorb from the collective unconscious? Or broadens my capacity to take away from the wild power out there and helps me strengthen the Phantom Thieves?"

A long moment passed, Igor's beady eyes staring into the boy.

Justine held her clipboard against her chest. "The power to fuse and enhance Personas is already something that Caroline and I are helping you to master. We provide you with as much strength as your heart can bear. There is more you are capable of, but to attempt to skip to the end would shatter you as surely as attempting to catch a falling building would your body. You must strengthen your bonds, to draw on their power as well as your own if you hope to survive wielding true might."

Akira's hands clenched the bars. "I can't even heal them, and every time Futaba or Makoto does it I'm afraid they'll start bleeding from the nose and it will be their last magic ever!" He sucked in a quick breath. "And when I tried to use Isis' bless energy against Shadows in Mitsuyo's palace, it hurt my friends! A blade that even cuts its sheathe is useless. What I need is something to help me take strength, even from my enemies, with my own bloody hands!"

A corner of Justine's mouth turned up. "You must come see us more often, Inmate. Your rehabilitation has been speeding along. But—"

Igor waved a hand. The sensation of thrumming power within Pillar of Heaven dulled. "Justine. Caroline. Submit what would be necessary, whatever the inmate asks to toy with his ensnared Personas. They do not burden his heart as the ones he keeps at the forefront of his mind. You shall have double of it." His legs crossed under the table. "Be sure, Inmate, not to let your guard down despite these blessings. Those of malicious designs stand ready to engage any move for their grand strategy."

Akira opened his mouth to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean.

An alarm blared in the distance. Igor blinked and clasped his hands to look almost restful. "But time stands still for no-one. Night draws to a close, prisoner of fate. We shall meet again."

AN: Yatsuhashi is a 1600s musician credited with bringing the koto out of 'high court' life and teaching it to the Japanese public at large.

Cartoons in America tend to use grand pianos or anvils, but the comedy trope in Japan seems to be a huge pile of washbasins when somebody needs to be buried by a sudden fall. I stuck with the one more likely to be familiar to an English-reading audience.