Persona 5: Daywatch

Monday, 5 September 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Futaba slumped on a seat at the bar as the transfer student trudged up.

Sojiro, wiping at an already clean counter, watched the Shujin student walk, but decided not to start a conversation if the other clearly wasn't ready for it. The restaurateur braced a hand against his back as if he needed that much to come out of his small hunch. "Well come on, little lady. Time to hit the hay."

She almost stood and followed after, but there were too many people trudging today. Akira acted like half of him had been scooped away and Hifumi kept zoning out. They hadn't texted each other since Sunday, something HAD to have happened. She crouched down next to the team leader who stopped to watch her. "I thought I should stay a little longer. I wanted to talk to Akira and Morgana-san. After all, if I can't even take care of a cat—"

"I'm not a cat!"

"—I wouldn't even be close to ready to go back to real school." She reached out to pick him up behind the forelegs. Longcat, to the rescue!

Sojiro groaned and rubbed his face. "It's been a long day and it's past time I closed up. Siphons are already off and the curry's already in the fridge. You can play with the cat—"

"I'm a human!"

"—whenever you want," the restaurateur continued, raising one arm to rub the other. "But these old bones can't stay up as late as they used to."

Ugh. What happened to the fun-loving kind-of-uncle who was always there to cheer up herself or Mom? "Just one more hour? I can make my own way back by myself. Don't smother me, Sojiro-san!"

Her breath halted when she realized she let that last one slip and the team leader wriggled out of her grip. Sojiro took in a breath.

Then he burst out laughing.

Even Morgana tilted his head in confusion. "Huh?"

Sojiro clasped his belly with one hand, the other bracing against the counter. "It's been so long since you sounded like a precocious teenager!" He took off his glasses to wipe his eyes, a smile crinkling his face. "All right, kiddo. Don't you and Kurusu get up to anything untoward, and don't keep me waiting too long, you hear?"

Equal parts baffled and elated, Futaba snapped her feet together and saluted. "Aye aye, captain!"

The restaurateur gave a smile and nod, then shouted, "Lock up and walk Futaba home when she's done, kid." He drew a packet of cigarettes from a pocket and trotted out.

Futaba frowned. She hadn't wanted to add to his responsibilities when he spent a third of the day getting beaten up, but it was half his fault for not pulling head from rectum. The hacker pulled a seat at the bar out for the team leader, then sat herself at the next one. "So what's up with Joker and Hifumi?"

Morgana's ears pressed flat against his skull. "You know he doesn't bring me when he goes to Mass. He was back pretty late on Sunday, and smelled like Lady Ann's perfume."

Futaba opened her mouth to say there was no way, but her brain sorted information faster than her heart could reject the possibility out-of-hand. Ann was right there beside him in the hacker's palace, and based on their chat history had been phantom thieving beside him long before. Hifumi didn't sneak after them until later. The two shared so much phone and chat activity, but Futaba never considered Akira and Ann. She was really nice, and pretty enough to catch Akira's eye in and out of the Metaverse. She was just as able to get a blush out of him as Hifumi, though the hacker started to think that didn't take a lot. "Were Akira and Ann…?"

"No." Panic widened the team leader's blue eyes for a beat before he forced himself to take a breath. His tail still twitched in nervousness but his ears perked up a bit. "There's no way. Attraction is one thing – this is Lady Ann we're talking about – but he's given her a respectful distance since I met them, and that was their first day in the Metaverse."

Sensing the team leader was about to break into a rant, or at least monologue, Futaba waved her hand. "Ryuji told me all about Kamoshida's palace." She tapped her heels against her high chair. "It's just… it's like even their duty to the Phantom Thieves isn't able to keep them together. If they break up, I'm afraid that could be it for the Phantom Thieves, too."

Morgana's tail drooped. "That thought has occurred to me, too."

Wood creaked and foosteps thudded to the ground floor. Always eager to get out of his Shujin uniform, Akira wore beige shorts and a black tennis shirt – long sleeved, of course. His arms must be pasty. His steel-grey eyes looked even larger and more weary behind his glasses than most days. "Okay, so what's going on? I've got school tomorrow."

Futaba stood and pushed her glasses back up her face. "What happened with Hifumi-san?"

Akira rubbed his temple. "It's not your problem, Futaba."

She balked at him. "For real?"

Train to Setagaya

Ryuji sneezed.

Yongen, Leblanc

Futaba threw her fists down at her sides to square off against the bone-headed boy who saved her life. "Did you not see any of today? You two were so off your game it got all of us beat up. We couldn't even make real progress on the tower."

"It's affecting team cohesion, Joker," the team leader added. "And you don't tend to go to one of us for help, so I can't help but worry this is something maybe you and she are bottling up until it's explosive. I don't want this blowing up and hurting all the Phantom Thieves. You're not the only one suffering. If you guys can't work together, I can't get my human body back."

Akira rounded on him, the fire of contention blazing in his grey eyes. "Oh, like you have it so bad! I can't even talk with the person I care most about on Earth!"

Morgana's mouth drifted open for a beat. His ears curled down and his head hung low. "You think it doesn't hurt me to see Lady Ann look over me like I'm invisible? The most beautiful, kind woman ever… and not only can I not even hold her in my arms, I have to watch her rendezvous with the guy who tried to blackmail her into modeling nude for a painting mere weeks after we freed her from the shackles of Kamoshida. I can't pat Oracle on the head, I can't run with Reaper, I can't buy my own ticket for the train, I can't eat ice cream from the vending machine… I can't even talk to a lady passing by on the street!"

Futaba blinked at the outpouring of energy from the usually-collected team leader. Given how much weirdness surrounded her joining the Phantom Thieves, she'd relegated him in her mind as the cute team mascot. Maybe he really was a human.

Letting out either a stifled groan behind his hand, Akira leaned against the back of a booth seat. "You're right. My pain doesn't negate yours. But I was the one who got tangled up with Hifumi to start with. Even though I hadn't gotten over Shiho."

Futaba's eyes widened under her glasses. Did she miss something on one of the days she wasn't listening in on a bug? One way she's blindsided and everyone else needs help, the other way they're whining about privacy – there's no winning with people!

Akira continued as if she wasn't gawking, "It's not your business. I should have known I shouldn't get involved with someone like Hifumi. She's right, it's not fair to her."

Her fists tightened. "Then what about what's fair to you?"

He tensed, his eyes flitting away. "Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Futaba roared in frustration, jumped to her feet, and chucked the nearest thing – one of the tall, steel table ash trays – at him.

She realized it was a mistake even before the sprinkling of ash and cigarette butts scattered across his shirt. Futaba gaped in horror and raised her hands, far too late to take the throw back. "I… I'm—"

"Like I don't have the whole world throwing enough shit at me," he barked at her, "Now you're joining in?"

Her tongue tripped over itself and her heart hammered in her throat. "…just wanna help…"

Akira stormed to the trash can behind the counter, ripping off a square of paper towel on the way. "I don't want your help." He knelt and started brushing ashes into the trash.

"Joker," Morgana said, standing up from his perch on the bar seat. "She made a mistake, but we want to help. This is hurting you, and us."

"Oh right," Akira snapped. "After all, if the Phantom Thieves can't keep going into the Metaverse, you can't get your body back. That's all we're for, isn't it?"

Morgana's jaw drifted open, betrayal writ on his face and the curl of his ears.

Futaba sniffled, her vision starting to blur. "A-Akira. I—"

"Oracle," the team leader commanded, calm back in his voice. "Meet me outside." Despite his request, he bounded off to the stairs to the loft.

Confused and failing to find the spine necessary to face the transfer student again, she trudged outside. A minute or two later, Morgana hopped down to the bottle crates stacked at the bar next door. He held a black rubber-cased smartphone in his mouth. He stood there on the crate stack for a few moments.

"Oh!" Futaba stepped closer to catch him. Or at least try, the phone wobbled in his precarious grip and she went for the delicate technology by reflex. That meant dropping him, and claws against her belly. "Ow!"

"I thought you were going to catch me!" Morgana whined.

She looked down at the transfer student's phone. "How's this supposed to help us?"

"Because he won't listen to us," Morgana explained. "We're his compatriots. I think what he needs right now is an authority figure. Somebody he can talk to about matters of the heart. There's a counselor at Shujin, but it's too late to call him."

Futaba arched an eyebrow. "He has the counselor's number?"

His head tilted clockwise. "You're right, that doesn't feel usual. But he's gone out of his way to have me somewhere else when he talks to Maruki, so I would think it's a real talk." He shook out his head, the shake passing all the way down the tail like a cat and not a human. "We can figure that out later. Right now, we need somebody he trusts, but also looks up to as a source of wisdom and experience."

Futaba scratched her head. "That's a short list. Does it extend further than Togo-san?"

His tail flicked. "There's only one person I can think of him going to about his feelings for Hawk – well, calling over, due to her shady job."

"Shady job?" The hacker had to admit, if he wasn't seeking out suspicious peeps, he was awfully good at running across them left and right.

Present hacker exempt, of course. She was pure as the driven snow.

Never mind living on the internet.

Morgana looked left, then right. "Promise you won't talk to anyone about this. Akira swore on his honor, and I think he forgot I could have the opportunity to tell anyone else or he might've sworn me to secrecy. But these are desperate times."

"Do I look like a Twit?" She waved as if to dismiss his concerns, but his little blue eyes bored into her. "Fine, fine. No posting this online. So come on and explain it already! What's so shady about somebody he'd talk to about being in love?" Akira kept his cards close to the chest, it was hard to imagine him blabbing to anyone.

"His teacher. She's moonlighting as a maid. It'll be under his contacts as 'Victoria'."

Futaba felt sparks flying within her skull. "Teacher. Maid?"

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "Not a word. Apparently she'll be fired from both jobs if one finds out about the other." That blue gaze broke from her. "I don't know why she's so desperate as to work multiple jobs, just that she's in some kind of trouble. Probably why Joker keeps in contact. He's not the type to stay out when he finds someone alone and in trouble."

The hacker opened her mouth to bring up Akira's arguments over Togo's palace, but he did come save her and the Phantom Thieves were on Togo before she threatened them to change her own heart. The more she tried to figure Akira out, the more confusing he became. Were all men like this?

"Ugh," she said. "You're sure she can help? Because I don't think I can keep this up for long."

"She's the only person I've seen him confess his feelings about Hifumi to, so I think she's the best shot we have," Morgana responded. "Just ask for Becky and give them Leblanc's address.

He hadn't even said it to Hifumi, so that had to mean something. Granted, Futaba had a hard time believing Hifumi couldn't know, but she didn't know how to fix that side of the equation. The hacker unlocked the phone and brought up the number.

A generic ring whirred before a man who sounded like he was gargling gravel answered, "Victoria's Housekeeping. Do you have any specific requests?"

"Becky," Futaba recited.

"Request fee brings that to five thousand yen an hour," the clerk on the other end of the phone replied.

"Five thousand?" Futaba shouted.

Morgana bapped her shin with his paw, at least leaving the claws retracted this time. "That's their standard price. Akira's already got a scrubbed account for this kind of thing, just use that." When she glared at him, he added, "I wouldn't have brought up this route if I thought we had a better one."

Despite her misgivings, she followed the team leader's instructions and concluded the call. She'd just have to pray Akira wouldn't get angry she spent some of his money on it.

Late Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Kawakami paused at the door to the small, neighborhood cafe and yawned into her fist. The smell of coffee tempted her in despite the 'closed' sign on the door. A small light in the kitchen gave dim glow beyond the distorted glass tiles in the door, but light was on in the upstairs windows so Kurusu might have been waiting for her upstairs. Ugh. What did he want cleaned now? Her back already hurt. Maybe she could beg him for a couple hours and just crash on his couch?

The bell jingled as she pushed it open and stepped inside, the sound causing a slight girl in baggy pants to leap from the middle booth. Her long, light, straight hair spilled down, the motion drawing her eyes to black roots which must have been growing in for months. Kawakami froze like a deer in the headlights, though after a couple seconds she realized from the girl's wide eyes she must have been in much the same anxious state. What was Kurusu thinking, calling her when somebody else was still in the building? Feeling herself sweat, practice pasted a tense smile over Kawakami's face and she tried not to scream. "O-oh. I must have the wrong establishment. Please excuse me."

The girl's stare somehow held the moonlighting teacher's gaze, and it wasn't until the teacher's hand jiggled the doorknob that the girl gabbed, "Wait! Are you Becky?"

A renewed panic shot through Kawakami and she cursed every kami in Japan. Couldn't even one give her a break?

As if realizing her trembling, the girl threw herself to her knees in front of the teacher dressed as a maid, clasped hands held high. "Please, you've gotta help me. I don't wanna die a lonely old spinster!"

Her overloaded brain turned over. Still no clue who this girl was or what she wanted, but she knew the teacher's other identity. A sense of pity coaxed Kawakami to force out, "Huh? I-I'm sorry, I'm afraid that's kind of… way out of my purview."

The girl lowered her hands, still so small and pathetic as she begged, "But you helped Akira-kun before. And he's never had as big a fight with Hifumi." She gushed with a slightly disjointed summary of an argument between Kurusu and his crush, Hifumi, over each other's romantic pasts.

The girl looked like she wanted to throw up, which undercut Kawakami's panic, and the fact that she not only knew Kurusu but could feel that wrapped up in him called for action. That and she knew the teacher's maid identity. What would be the fastest way to get out of this? Straightforward. Taking a step from the door, Kawakami forced herself to stand straight and planted a fist on her hip to project firm authority. She couldn't help the pitying sigh at the panicked girl or tragic story. "Listen, kid. You're sticking your nose where you might get burned. It's never a good idea to jump into somebody else's fight. And people can be even more senseless when love's involved."

"Then where am I going to get nieces and nephews from?" the girl blurted. When that got nothing but an arched brow from the teacher, the girl rose and took a couple steps backward, left arm holding her right. "E-heh… I mean… they're so adorable together."

"I never wanted anything so much," Kurusu's words echoed in her head. She'd never even seen them together, but could believe it.

Kawakami fought down a knowing smile. "Kid, you might mean well, but as you gain life experience you'll come to understand things aren't always what they look like. Two people can look really good together, but time together can bring out bad parts of each other."

"But they aren't," the girl protested. "He's so angry at injustice, and he's had to suffer so much," She grit her teeth and ran her hands from black through dyed hair, those dark eyes darting about in recollection. "After he's been with her, at least before, it's like that's all washed away."

Kawakami forced herself through years of practice as a teacher not to let her firm stance waver. "Kid, you are way too invested in Kurusu's life."

"No I'm not!" the girl shouted, throwing her fists down."He saved mine! And he did it when he knew Hifumi was in trouble." She bit her lip and forced a breath in and out, sparing a brief glance over her shoulder to the stairs at the back. After no sign of creaking, she looked up at the teacher with a surprising fire in her eyes. "I can't be the kind of person who'd close myself off even if things are hard."

Between Kurusu and the trembling from the slight girl whose sleeveless shirt contrasting with those baggy pants just made her seem even smaller, the teacher couldn't help but feel a little pity. Well, the first way to knock down an argument was to acknowledge part of their point. "You're brave, but discretion is the greater part of valor. Trust me, I've been in love and it doesn't always work out. My friends in high school said the same thing about me and my boyfriend. We didn't even make it to midterms. Going our separate ways was the best thing for both of us."

"You don't understand," the girl pushed out, her voice just above a whisper but with a hoarse quality as if she meant for more. "He lives for her. Before he changed… saved me, I was afraid of everyone. Of everything. I couldn't move past mom," her voice cracked. "He risked his life to pull me out of the dark. But what can I do when the only thing he wants is for Hifumi to be happy?"

Crossing her arms, Kawakami thought for a few moments. Well, too late to disengage. "I can't just keep calling you 'hey, girl'. What's your name?"

She straightened large glasses. "Futaba."

"Futaba-chan. You may be brave and dutiful, but some battles just aren't yours to fight."

Futaba glared back as if daring the teacher to dissuade her. "That's why I called for reinforcements."

Shaking her head, Kawakami let her arms drop. "Kurusu's head could deflect a battleship. If he's not looking for advice, I doubt he'll listen to any offered."

Futaba growled and then, for some reason, sank into a low crouch right there on the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees, her eyes darting about in thought.

"Listen," Kawakami cut in. "If he's still in the loft, I'll talk to him. But you shouldn't worry so much about it. Neither should he, to be honest. High school romances don't often work out." She left out how much she hoped Kurusu could've found something. The poor boy was dealt an even worse hand than herself. But it just wasn't in the cards sometimes. "That's not a bad thing, it's part of the growing process. Maybe you'll even run across some hapless boy and fall head over heels, have fun, cry, and move on to someone better for you as you mature."

From the tightness in Futaba's muscles, the teacher could see she didn't agree, but she stood up and slid back into the middle booth.

Taking that as permission, she took to the stairs, knocking on the side before coming up. "Kurusu-kun."

The frizzy-haired boy jerked from his kneeling position in front of that little poster of Mary. "Sensei?" The surprise in his voice caught her off-guard. She knew kids could forget or change plans, but he sounded like he hadn't been expecting her. Glancing around, she saw a few school textbooks on the table in front of the couch, with a scattering of string, straw, and strange tools on the work bench. He glanced about as well, then got up and paced to his phone and picked up a charging cable from the floor beneath the windowsill. She suspected she wasn't meant to hear the ground-out, "Morgana."

"Care to make the best of a bad situation?" She sat down at the couch, a few school textbooks jammed with papers. "Your sister's cute, but has your tendency to hold onto things. She's concerned about you."

Kurusu plugged in his phone and left it on the sill next to the work bench. "She has issues with boundaries." He ran a hand through his unruly hair and sat down in a chair beside the table.

"No man is an island," Kawakami chirped. The way the city lights played against his neck left sharp lines which emphasized tension he would never admit he felt. "Care to talk about it?"

He reached out to tidy up his homework. "What'd she tell you?"

Well, that's not a no. "You had a tiff with Hifumi? Why don't you tell me yourself? Make sure all the details are right."

To her surprise, the story related by Kurusu had all the same beats as Futaba's. For all his faults, dishonesty wasn't his problem.

"So did you love Suzui-san like you love Hifumi?"

Kurusu's head jerked up and his eyes looked even wider under his glasses. "How can I love Hifumi if I love Shiho-san?"

Kawakami folded her hands on the table to resist the urge to rub her eyes. Next he'd say he thought he was the first human to ever fall in love. "Kurusu-kun, falling in and out of love is just something that people do. Especially in high school. It's not a once and never again thing. Damn all those movies with that stupid soul mate nonsense. Just like you don't have only one friend. People make one friend after another. It's not the same friendship with Niijima-san as it is with Sakamoto-san, is it?"

From the tiny motions in his eyes under his glasses, Kurusu was taking in her words. "Sensei, Hifumi's had to settle for scraps all her life. Last pick for team games at school no matter how hard she exercised to get her run times down, just because she was last the time before. Last one to be allowed to plate her food at family get-togethers because everyone else's parents were a bigger deal coming from further away. Last one to be called on in class because she studied and read ahead and knew the answers and her own teachers got tired of her always answering. Last one to be invited to family discussions because she didn't blindly accept underlying presumptions. First one to be passed over by boys because she's smarter than them. First girl to be left by fucking morons at middle school because she's reliable and they tripped over some more 'exciting' chick. She deserves somebody who holds her first at heart."

Kawakami let out a contemplative breath. The boy could be adorable sometimes. "You can be sweet, sometimes. You tell her all this? Because any girl who could hear that without blushing is already riding another horse."

Kurusu clapped his hands to his face. "Sensei, did you forget what we fought about? How can Hifumi be first in my heart if Shiho's there?"

"Do you dream about Suzui like you do Hifumi?"

His blush told her all she needed to know.

"You have long talks about nothing with Suzui?"

His blush spread and his gaze drifted back to his textbooks. "No."

"You ever sneak Suzui treats or special lunches?"

Now confusion curled over his face. "No? Sensei, even if it wasn't for her already being in a relationship with…" He picked up a trigonometry book and tapped it against the table a few times.

"Kurusu-kun, feeling one way about something doesn't mean it's fixed. Your test scores were just above-average before you came to Shujin. Sometimes high, sometimes zeros." He opened his mouth and she cut him off, "I don't care if you skipped school some days, the point remains. Then you came to Shujin and you've been near the top of your class since your first marks. You came from a home in nothing but name and I bet Suzui was the first colleague to show you human acceptance. She had quite the fan club for more than landing starter in the girl's volleyball team."

Kurusu didn't give a verbal answer, but the way he avoided her eyes and tidied up books and papers gave a distinct impression.

"What about your sweetheart? Has Hifumi ever given you treats or special lunches?"

His eyes unfocused in thought for a beat. At least he engaged with the question. "No, but she also doesn't cook."

Not a flat no, that implied there was something there. "You exchange trinkets or mementos of some kind?"

Kurusu shifted as if he was about to turn and look at his bookshelf. "She'd loan me books. The Lord of the Rings, What We Owe to Each Other, The Screwtape Letters."

"All things you do with her but not Suzui." Kawakami scanned her student, comparing every detail to what she'd learned about children in her years of life. And one nagging doubt had grown too large not to look at. She'd known lots of kids who had a rough time. But there weren't that many ways of dealing with it. Some would hiss and spit and rage, but looking at Kurusu… that felt incomplete. He was always ready to engage anything outside. But what about inside? Taking in a breath, she decided enough time passed to shift the conversation. "Can you honestly answer me one question?"

Silence reigned for an uncomfortable few seconds before Kurusu set the math book aside, his steel gaze on hers.

"Is this really about what you think she'll feel about you? It's sweet and all, but you put her on an awfully high pedestal." She took in a quick breath to steel herself at his lack of reaction so far. "I know you think very little of yourself, but the closer to her you get… the more chance you have to see her warts and spots."

His teeth bared. "Hifumi doesn't have any spots."

"You're expecting me to believe it didn't hurt when you learned she had boyfriends before you?" Kawakami sat back, hands on her knees.

Now his gaze fell to the table. "She's as brilliant as she is beautiful. Of course she'd—"

"There's a difference," Kawakami said, keeping her voice even through practice of calling out over rowdy classes, "between logical theory and the gut punch reality hits us with."

"Us?" Akira said, his breath leaving his body. Combined with the way his dark, frizzy hair blended into the shadows it left her an impression a bit like a ghost about to fade out of the mortal world. A tension around his eyes told her he wanted to ask so much more than the question he managed to force out.

Kawakami weighed her options. Every training course recommended keeping the kids at a professional distance, but the transfer student knew about her unsavory side job and was filling her wallet. "I know what it's like for expectations and reality to clash. I've been propositioned four times. One was a ring in a restaurant." She let out a breath and fiddled with her nails. "I had to turn them all down."

His eyes locked on her, gears whirling and some of his tense hunch slipping away. "Why? Doesn't everyone want to get married?"

She forced her hands flat on the table. The transfer student was nervous enough for the both of them. "I've been fortunate enough to meet a lot of very nice guys. But all the ones who were interested in tying the knot wanted a traditional family. They wanted a housewife. I remember the last date Kanesuke and I had. He just got promoted as a sound engineer at a big movie studio. We could've had a comfortable life. Kids. But he made me choose between teaching and him."

Then words she never thought she'd hear from the prickly kid. "I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

His steel gaze didn't quite meet hers. "You gave up a good life for people like me."

Kawakami pursed her lips at the fact that he wasn't close enough to ruffle his hair or pat his back or something. Somehow, she felt lighter as she said, "Kurusu, kids like you are what I walked away from that for. Teaching isn't just cramming facts and figures into young minds. If that's all there was to it, we'd all have been replaced with subliminal learning machines. It's teaching people how to live and act for a better life." She clenched her lacy skirt. "It's helping people understand the whole picture."

That tuxedo cat crept out of the shadows behind a rolling clothes rack and gave a soft meow.

Kurusu's shoulders sagged. "But you should see her when she smiles. Tennyo have nothing on her. The spark in her eye when she figures out a puzzle or strategy. The way when she relishes trivia games. How she sways when she's listening to music. I want to be there for all of those." He looked up at her, a faint glisten to his eyes under his glasses. "How can I fix this? Which of us was right?"

The poor kid had it bad. She wondered if him wanting to fix things he didn't break would be a problem later. "Kurusu-kun… I'd have thought you'd be a little more prepared given the scores you've gotten in lit class. You said yesterday you felt pain because she was right. Then today because you were right. Yet you're still here agonizing over it. Does it matter who's right?"

Still hunched, he tilted his head.

Kawakami took in a deep breath, then let it out through her nose. "As you go into life, you'll encounter more and more times when you and somebody you have a problem with can both be right. Did In a Grove ever say which narrator was right?"

He straightened, his eyes narrowing in brief thought. Love might have befuddled him, but a challenge? Kurusu knew how to lock horns. "They all lied. But that's the point of the whole story, the unknowability." He let out a breath. "The pointlessness."

The language arts teacher blew a long breath out her nose. "No, Kurusu-kun. All four perspectives had a vested interest in presenting themselves in the best light. Not that there is no objective truth. If there was no objective truth, the government wouldn't spend so much putting cameras up everywhere." She counted it a victory that his snort and smile weren't all bitter. "For me, the enjoyment of that kind of story is that it doesn't matter who's right. There's still life to live tomorrow. And it matters more what you want tomorrow than who was right yesterday."

His eyes darted away, but she could see the contemplation happening beneath his glasses. "Maybe so, but the fight we had… I don't want it to happen again. Or go that way again."

His tone and posture hinted more at trying to think his way out than clinging to a problem, that was better than most fights she'd seen between boyfriend and girlfriend. "I think she was afraid. Maybe you could have been more patient, I wasn't there, but you aren't trying to hurt her. She could stand to apologize to you, too. A healthy relationship has balance. I think the most you can do is talk to her again, assure her you still want to give and receive commitment. But I think you've already got one step out – you know it's not always about being right, it's about being able to move forward."

Her phone buzzed and she checked to see a time warning. She looked up at him and let out a sigh. She gave her piece, now it was up to life. "It's getting late, and you still have school tomorrow. Get some rest."

Tuesday, 6 September 2016
After School
Shujin, Class 2-D

The usual first wave of escapees fled from the classroom and chatter burst among the remainder. Taking advantage of the momentary uproar for some privacy out in the open, Mishima leaned across his desk to whisper, "I'm going to stop in at the counselor's, in case you guys are wondering why I might not be in contact."

An inscrutable look passed over Akira's face. "Sure."

The class representative considered probing a little further, but Akira's phone rang and he took to the board at the back of the room to get away from the chatter. After a beat he said, "Sure, Shujin's all booked. Want me to just meet you straight at the dorms?"

After School
Kosei Male Dorms

Akira followed his fellow-in-long-sleeves down the hallway until the artist stopped and unlocked his dorm room. The humble space beyond reminded the transfer student of a traditional Japanese home. Walls of wood and faux-paper paneling even made it look more like a quaint, old-style room. A generous closet hung open, the futon spilling out like a tiny tongue sticking out amid the half-dozen easels. Three almost complete paintings of Ann in different styles sat on some, with more experimenting with styles and postures. Akira recognized himself on several paintings, all dominated by dark tones.

Akira zeroed in on the one to the center right, the only one not of a person. "Is this the draft of Mementos?" It had almost as much black as the paintings of himself, though with sharp slashes of bright red and gold. The whole thing reminded him of a vortex, drawing him into rage and despair.

"Indeed," Yusuke said with a faint smile. "As you can see, my brush has been busy of late." His smile dipped. "But they are so flawed. While I floundered under Sensei, my vision blurred and my mind's eye could not see enough to even attempt to convey beauty. Now I paint until my fingers are sore, but everything is tainted with ugliness."

Akira leafed through a stack of paintings against one wall of the dorm room. Five paintings in various stages of completion. "These are all Ann. And they look good."

Arms held up, Yusuke wailed, "They are not even a pale shadow of her magnificence!"

Akira returned to painting number three and slid it up and out. "I think you're being too hard on yourself. This one looks great, it looks like she's floating. Or jumping, a bit like The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. Maybe a physical manifestation of her free spirit. You just need to fill in her leg and background."

Yusuke tugged the canvas from the transfer student's hands. "But her eyes are so dull, her poise like an actor standing in front of a green screen and not the bold leap of such a magnificent woman!"

A broom handle thumped against the floor below. "Some of us have homework!"

Setting aside the side of the room dominated by Ann, Akira paced to the other side. A variety of art with a strange mishmash scattered the ten-odd canvasses here. One a man sitting on the edge of a porch in a modern-style summer yukata, one leg dangling off. It would have looked like a lazy summer day were it not for the gushing flames consuming the wall behind him and crawling across the ceiling. The next easel had himself, sitting on a small chair and staring into his phone, a hunch to his posture and tense, upward pull to his chin as he stared down at the screen. It lacked his glasses and Yusuke painted a stone background instead of the wood workbench and windowsill, but he recognized the spot he would often wait late at night for a response to his texts to Hifumi.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. He seemed all the more foolish, now.

Yusuke came to a stop next to him. "I know. For all its technical adequacy, it still feels like a celebration of ugliness."

Crossing his arms, the transfer student looked over the painting which blended realism and style in a way he'd never thought of. "Yusuke, this is a lot more than technically adequate."

The artist huffed. "Your kindness is appreciated, but… I can't submit this tomorrow. Sayuri showed beauty to my life in the darkness. I swore to bring a Sayuri to the world as Sen… as my mother to me."

Akira stepped from that painting. This new one resembled him, but with brown hair and a tattered white shirt as he bowed with hands clasped in prayer to a golden sun rising above a distant hill. The small alterations might have fooled someone else, but Akira remembered the sketch of himself in front of the poster of Mary. He still resembled a hunched monster in the painting.

Yusuke tisked as if he could discipline the painting itself. "The best thing that could be said about that painting is it represents a man looking outside himself. It does not glimpse at beauty."

Laughter tripped out of Akira's mouth before he could regain his breathing. "Yusuke… what if it's not that simple?"

The artist blinked, a faint downturn to the corners of his lips. "How could it not be? Fear is a negative emotion, it wouldn't be right to take the image of those I know and love for naught but humanity's detriments."

"That's exactly it," Akira said, unsure where the mirthful bubbling inside was coming from. "It's like what I realized after talking to Kawakami-sensei. Whatever good or bad something can feel, what if there isn't a right or wrong that we need to be? I haven't talked to Hifumi since our fight on Sunday—"

"You invited us all to your flat for movie night," Yusuke interjected.

"You're getting ahead of me," Akira kept going. "I was shamed because she was right about what she said, I did think about other girls. I did have others in my heart. Then yesterday I was angry, because I still felt I was right about the boys she's been with. But in her case and mine, it was before we met each other, so it's not like we were unfaithful. I didn't know her and she didn't know me and we both sought something…" Words failed him and his hands raised as if he could pluck them from the air. "Human? Worthwhile?"

"To justify your existence?" he said, staring at the painting straight ahead.

"Yeah," Akira finished. "Maybe neither of us would have made it here were it not for the people we met along the way." He took in a long, deep breath and let it out. "But Shiho's not the one I hope I see tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after." He pointed at the painting of himself kneeling in supplication. "So is there fear there? Yeah. It took more than fear to get there."

Yusuke closed his eyes and allowed a small smile. "Maybe Desire is ready, then."

Akira scratched his head. He appreciated art, but never pretended to have mastered anything about it. "You think they'll understand?"

Turning up his nose, Yusuke huffed. "If I wanted there to be no possibility of interpretation I would turn the way of those talentless political cartoonists who label everything. No, this foul abyss is one every person must look into, for within it is themselves."

"Because Mementos is everyone's palace?"

"Indeed," Yusuke said, a weight yet openness to the simple phrase which reminded the transfer student of Teal'c. "Being able to see Mementos with all of you has opened my mind to the human heart in ways I had not thought possible. Nobody has seen it with such clarity. Perhaps through this I can shock the slumbering masses. Maybe one day I will even be able to show what is beautiful."

"If I can come this far," Akira said, "I'm sure you can make it further." He reached for the painting of himself staring down at his phone as he waited for a response for Hifumi. Maybe it seemed to hold more color than normal because he felt the same. Hifumi was the only one who hadn't responded to his invitation to movie night tonight. "And if the contest lets you submit more than one, you should do it. Don't hold yourself back."

"You think they will understand more than the one?"

Akira set down the painting. "It'll certainly stimulate conversation. Maybe remind people a little more about life. Isn't that one of art's great powers?"

Yusuke bowed his head. "Some. Takamaki-san said that about They Live, though I am not educated enough in American movies to understand what she meant. If I remember correctly, Togo-san was going to bring tonight's movie." He set aside a partial painting of Ann. "But your words have stirred the muse within me. Not only shall I have my full set for the competition, I shall create anew for all mankind!"

Tuesday, 6 September 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Hifumi brought her jog to a stop in front of the coffee and curry cafe's door. A warm glow poured out of the distorted panels of glass in the door. Her hand hesitated at the door handle as she stood there, swallowed by the deep shadows of Tokyo as the sun sank behind the skyline. He did invite every one of the Phantom Thieves to come over group chat, but didn't respond when she said she'd bring tonight's movie on a DVD.

Still nervous about having to talk to Akira and mend things, she shrugged off her purse. The DVD sat in its case inside, safe as it was when she took it this morning so she could beat the Shujin students there.

Hifumi swallowed, straightened, then pulled open the door and strode in.

An elderly couple nursed cups of coffee, Boss seated on a stool behind the register with an open book. The smell of coffee thickened and an undercurrent of curry tantalized, especially with her only having eaten over-cooked eggs and rice today. The quaint furnishings and style wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, tempting her to sit down and just forget the outside world.

Boss-san glanced up from his book. "Oh. He's already upstairs."

Hifumi's breath caught in her throat. At last, a chance to talk in private and clear up their Sunday tiff. With a lightness to her steps, she dashed up the stairs.

The couch and card table sat at the left side of the room in their usual place, despite plans for movie night. Instead of the fluffy-haired boy she hoped to see, an unfamiliar boy sat on the stool by the work bench. The real Mishima this time. His straight, black hair was messy in a similar lack-of-care way to Akira. He looked larger than his Shadow, though his face seemed much more expressive. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide when they fell on her, darting up and down her form. "Wow, the Venus of Shogi."

A beat passed, then he clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, I just made things awkward, didn't I?"

Clasping her hands, Hifumi tried to think of how to talk to somebody when she'd only seen his Shadow and never met the conscious person. How good could she be if she gave to people she didn't know, but brought frowns to the people closest to her? That was the very behavior condemned by the Bible and castigated in the Screwtape Letters. She gave a momentary bow of her head. "I believe this is the first time we have actually spoken. Togo Hifumi. It is a pleasure to meet you. I understand you're a friend of Aki-kun and Ann-san?"

The black-haired boy gave a nervous laugh and scratched his neck, then bowed at the waist. "M-Mishima Yuuki. Akira and I attend the same class at Shujin."

Hifumi changed the clasp of her hands, fighting the urge to fidget. She came here hoping to talk to Akira, but this presented an opportunity of its own sort. "I understand you are Suzui-san's boyfriend?"

Mishima-san rubbed the back of his neck in that same cute, bashful way Akira did. "Y-yeah. Or was. Things are still kinda rocky with us. I've been keeping tabs on her thanks to Ann-san, but her family's still pretty angry about what happened and I'm a lot easier to react to than Shujin's lawyers."

"I am sorry to hear that," Hifumi said, hoping it didn't sound too trite. Even if she didn't know the Phansite creator well, he didn't seem a bad sort. Thanks to his Phansite, dozens of people could be saved from everything from stalkers to abusive bosses. "You have done a lot for the people of Tokyo, I'm just sorry they'll never be able to know how much you've done for everyone."

His lips quirked up, but his gaze fell. "I hardly deserve that much credit. You are the ones who change filthy hearts."

She paced closer. "It's a team effort. From the sound of it, you've been helping them far longer than I have." His gaze dropped, and it felt like her attempts to get to untangle the knot of Shiho was just tangling things up more. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You already suffered enough even before you blamed yourself for what happened to Suzui-san. I just…" She bit her tongue to keep from chewing her lip. Mother was very strict against doing that, it could ruin the makeup. "Does he hate me?"

Contrary to her expectations, Mishima-san gave a small smile. "You are to him what Shiho was to me. A light in the darkness."

"But…" She paused to sort her thoughts so she wouldn't be misunderstood. "His integrity is one of the few things he has. And I accused him of cheating on me by falling in love with Suzui-san. Of still being in love with Suzui."

His smile took on a touch more knowing confidence. "Were you still chatting every night up until your spat on Sunday?"

She nodded.

"He hasn't spoken to Shiho since…" His voice trembled and he paused to regain control and feign confidence. "…since we stopped in to see her in the hospital in May."

Hifumi gave a shallow nod, but that scrap of information wasn't enough to banish her doubt. She turned around a chair against the card table, nodding at the stool he was sitting on earlier and they both sat. "Aki-kun has told me about things since Suzui-san's… fall. But I don't know about things prior to that. Do you mind if I ask about her?"

Mishima-san nodded and detailed a heart-wrenching story of loneliness from his days of middle school to his spell-binding encounter with a girl as blunt as she could be kind.

Just when the class representative got to Akira's addition, the stairs creaked with footsteps. Ryuji, Makoto, and Ann entered bearing snacks, so the students present got up to rearrange the furniture before Hifumi readied the disk. "I'm not sure what everybody's preference was, but I thought Suo Masayuki would be a safe choice with a little for everyone."

Futaba arrived just before Yusuke and Akira and the hacker started the movie before Hifumi could get the chance to pull Akira into a quiet corner for an apology.

Late Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

The credits rolled and Hifumi stood to help Akira clean up the card table.

Ryuji stretched. "Man, that was kinda funny, but so awkward. I mean, I know chicks an' dudes can dance, like… Nobunaga doin' Atsumori, but… with a chick? In public?"

Makoto took a stack of paper cups stuffed with crisps wrappers. "Like you're shy about wanting to do tawdry things with a girl."

"In private," he shot back, taking a handful of empty cans. He and her continued arguing back and forth as they went downstairs.

Ann swept crumbs off the table into another paper cup, then caught the class representative's eye. "I thought it was funny. And sweet, a lot of movies with a troubled relationship end up with them going different ways instead of mending the husband and wife's marriage."

Folding up his laptop and slipping it in his bag, Mishima-san nodded and followed her down. "Especially when there's a romance angle with some new girl. I've always disliked those. They always ignore why the starting couple formed a relationship to start with…" he went on as their conversation drifted downstairs.

Futaba stood, trading an 'I know you have plans' look with the strategist, then stretched her arms high and yawned. "I'm beat. Carry me home!" She leaned at Yusuke, then stumbled and ended up face-first against his belly because he left his arms at his sides. She jerked upright and yelled, "You're no fun!"

"Go on," Hifumi reproached with as much gentleness as she could. She glanced to the artist also helping wipe down the table, "I'll help him finish."

The angels above must have heard her silent prayer, because Yusuke gave a nod and sedate, "As you wish," then descended the stairs. The hacker's brown eyes flicked between the older teens for a beat before she followed.

Hifumi stepped around the corner to face her frizzy-haired friend before her courage could falter. This would be the first time since Sunday they didn't have every single other Phantom Thief between them. "Aki-kun, I'm sorr—"

Akira abandoned his spray bottle and cleaning rag, dashing the meter distance between them to throw his arms around her and squeeze her tight.

She brought up one hand to his back and the other to his fluffy hair. "I was a fool to say—"

"I don't care," he said into her hair.

She pushed away and looked into his eyes in case he'd lost it. "What?"

He refused to let her go, leaving her mere centimeters away. Plenty for those steel grey eyes to stare into her eyes with a fire blazing behind them. "I may not have looked it while we were yelling, but I was burning up with shame on Sunday at what you said because it's not wrong. Then all yesterday I was angry because I kept thinking about those memories we saw in your mom's palace. But I couldn't stop going back and forth. If I was right, you were hurt. If you were right, I had no business being with you." He relaxed his arms around her and she relaxed her push against him, their eyes fixed on each other's. "But that's what I want."

Hifumi leaned back against his encircling arms, wondering how she could have been so lucky.

They stared into each others' eyes for a few moments before he must have taken the silence as expectation for him to say something. "I'd do anything to be with you."

For a few beats, she thought her heart jumped to her throat. Then Dihya reminded her this was an opportunity to do something not one of her other boyfriends had done. Make a memory truly their own. Pulling out of his arms, she slipped out her phone, brought up Debussy, and set her phone down on the card table as the music began. He looked up at her in confusion and she extended her hand. "Dance with me."

An adorable blush dusted his cheeks. "What?"

She wanted to just grab him and waltz away, but Dihya reminded her he had to choose to step into this. If she pushed him into this, it might still be fun for a few minutes but it would only be for her right now. She wanted forever, so she just held out her hand, waiting for him to take it. "Dance with me."

She didn't need Dihya to discern his recalcitrance, but after a few measures he reached out to take her hand. "I'm… pretty sure I'm no good at ballroom tango."

Holding onto his hand, she stepped closer and placed a hand on his hip. "Then we'll waltz and figure things out from there."

He felt stiff as a board under her as his arm rotated to clap a hand on her hip to mimic her stance on him.

Hifumi had received some dance training as part of her personal trainer's exercises, but that had all been prescribed by Mother as part of strength, balance, and posture training to help her hold a pose for photo-shoots. She swallowed down her own nervousness and stepped to her right in time with the beat.

Akira almost tripped over his own feet the first step following her, so she made even smaller steps backward. He missed stepping on the beat of the music, but his footing was smoother when she stepped left. Forward, return to right, and backward. His feet at last matched the beat and his gaze lifted from their feet to her eyes.

It might not have been a proper waltz, but her hands were on him and his on her. She lost herself in the churning storm of his steel grey eyes, their feet moving and bodies swaying by rote motions which smoothed out as the music played. After what felt like far too short a time, the song came to a halt when an obnoxious advertisement popped up on her phone, fracturing the magic of the moment. Hifumi lifted her hand and traced her fingers down the curve of his jaw.

The more… physically needy part of her tugged to take his lips again, but the minutes they just shared felt so other-worldly she instead stepped back just to hold onto it for longer. The higher functions of her brain said it was unnecessary, but her emotions still swirled within and she had to ask, "You don't hate me for the ugly things I said?"

The curve of his lips dimmed a bit. "I could never hate you. And I'm… sorry for what I said, too."

A boyish, satisfied sigh floated from the window sill and Morgana said, "It's good to see Phantom Thieves maturing and letting bygones be bygones."

Akira leapt all the way off the floor as he spun around, both fists coming up. "Morgana? How long have you been there?"

One ear bent to the side. "I sleep here. I've been here the whole time." He hopped down and paced to the cushion on the bottom of the bookshelf. "Today feels like a productive rest. Joker and the other second-years from Shujin have off tomorrow, but are you still up to the operation with Rider?"

To the others' surprise, Hifumi growled at the team leader, "You couldn't have given five more minutes—"

Akira took her hand in his, silencing any words she struggled to put together to catapult at the team leader. Her irritation melted away at his touch and she squeezed back. It took a throat-clearing from the team leader for her boyfriend to remember the whole situation. "What operation?"

Morgana hopped onto the cushion serving as his bed. "You guys are leaving Tokyo for your class trip, but the Phantom Thieves have plenty of requests. We have plenty of operation leads, from checking on Rider's sister to following up on the Kuramoto Children we learned about in Matsushita's Palace. There's also a few more Palace candidates to line up for after Matsushita's change of heart. Unless you just want to go back there?"

Akira shrugged. "Actually, couldn't we do that? I'm already packed, and we're not leaving until after eighteen hundred."

Hifumi retrieved her phone. "Well, Kosei's trip isn't until Friday, but I don't have cram school. Will it be okay without Rider? I thought she had cram school tomorrow."

Morgana nodded. "We have enough Phantom Thieves we can take a Palace with one or two down. You and Joker are probably the only ones I'd be nervous going in without, since your Persona's scanning is far superior to mine and the number of Personas he can wield can cover a lot of weaknesses."

Akira crossed his arms in thought. "I might be able to alleviate some of that, actually. The twins have a way of turning those black rocks we keep finding in Mementos into what they call 'shards of power'. Those crystals that either emit or protect from certain energy."

Morgana's eyes narrowed and those ears rotated in a way that made the strategist want to get closer and pet him. "More options are never a bad thing. Send out a message on the group chat, let's make sure everybody's on the same page."

AN: The game almost starts with Morgana making a declaration of love for Ann which might've made Don Quixote proud, but seems to drop that as a temporary joke. Even if you play the romance arc with Ann, which SHOULD have caused friction with Morgana who never gives up his claimed affections. However, Morgana's made of the whole range of human emotions and insists across the whole game, particularly in his arc, that he's a human gentleman. And what's a dramatized novelization without poking those cracks and seeing what falls out?

I'm not against remakes, but the 1996 version of Dance With Me is so much better because Japan still has a rather strong cultural bias against western dancing, though I couldn't say if that's the undercurrent of 'native purism' which a few have claimed or if it's the aversion to mixed-sex public activities which became a wide gulf during the Meiji Restoration.