Mishima gulps nervously at the sight of the knife. Ren lets his shirt expose the handle a second longer before letting it fall back to his waist. It's gone, but Ren lounges casually now against the wall with the doors to his right. Unless Mishima fancies diving into concrete below, there's nowhere to run. This section of the roof is rather limited, being off-limits and all. Mishima wasn't easy to convince to get up here. But Ryuji had said they were interested in him specifically, and that was enough to send a flutter of butterflies through Mishima's chest. How stupid, he now feels, to be full of dread at the sight of his assailant in a mask, just waiting for him to make a wrong move.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Mishima asks, trying not to let his voice waver too much. He can feel his legs start to shake a little. He's never been too athletic. With the stranger's stature, Mishima doesn't think he'd win in a fight. But that's obvious. Mishima hasn't fought someone ever, and this stranger has a weapon. Even if it was something he wanted to do, it'd be stupid.

"That website you made for this school, as its creator, how much do you know about who's posting what?" Ren asks from where he stands, far out of the wind which tousles Mishima's short blue hair.

"I know it in and out." Mishima says, almost sounding offended. "I made it; of course I can tell who's making the posts."

"Okay then. Good. You can answer this, then. Who posted the information of that criminal transfer student? I heard a teacher say that it was supposed to be tightly kept information. They didn't want things to get out of hand, but that's exactly what happened. Can you explain why that is?" Ren asks, "It's the only thing anyone's talking about."

"I-I don't know who did that. I don't even know how that happened. It was just everywhere all of a sudden."

"I don't believe you." Ren says flatly. "And that's a problem. I'm going to be honest with you, Mishima. You don't look like someone who has a backbone to me. You don't look like the kind of person who'd stand up for yourself, or even someone else. Live how you want to live. I'm not here to change who you are. But if you're willing to gamble, even slightly, with your life on the line, then you're afraid of something you think that's worse than I am."

"Just because you don't like the answer, doesn't mean it isn't the truth!"

"I'm not interested in an answer given to appease me. I just want the truth. I'm not asking you to endanger someone. I'm not planning on getting people hurt. Just tell me this, was the information leaked artificially, and if so, why? I can take a pretty good guess at who it is, but I want to hear you say it without my influence."

"How could you know?" Mishima asks. "You're not a psychic, are you? If- if you're so sure of yourself, why even ask me?"

"Because I don't operate on assumption, Mishima. Unlike Kamoshida, I care about getting things right."

"Why should I trust you? People lie all the time. Even I've done it! There's no meaning behind the words people say. You won't even show me your face, and you expect me to put myself at risk?" Mishima asks, pointing accusingly at Ren with his chest heaving.

Ren sighs, crossing his arms as he stretches idly. "A criminal coming to this school… Think about it. Whatever legal officials or administrators were handling the transfers would've told the staff first so they could prepare. They would've been hard-pressed not to leak that information, and definitely not to this extent. I'm not saying it's impossible that it leaked naturally or accidentally, but this much information? There's not a chance that's a coincidence. And I know you know."

"He'll hurt people if I tell you." Mishima says, unconsciously reaching for his side in pain. "People like me."

"That's only if he knows." Ren insists. "You're a victim, but you're not the only one. If you continue to keep your mouth shut and defend a man like him, I can't forgive that. This is your chance to use the voice he tried to take from you."

"Fine. I did it. It was my platform after all. He knew I was weak, and he picked me to spread the information. Mr. Kamoshida took me into his office after a practice just before the school year started. There, he showed me the documents around Amamiya's arrival. There were already highlighted passages he wanted to disclose, and so, I posted what he told me too. If I didn't, he said he'd hurt me. And with what I know, that's enough."

"Weren't you worried about what he'd think?" Ren asks, curious. "You know, the transfer student. With all of these rumors, he seems like a pretty serious guy."

"Of course I was!" Mishima exclaims. "That's why I am never going to tell him. Ever. I could go without that kind of stress in my life."

"Right… Guess it's best to stay away from people like that." Ren replies.

"That's right." Mishima agrees bitterly, looking down at his shoes. "I never would've gotten involved with him normally, either. All I wanted to do was step outside my comfort zone. My mom said it'd be a good idea. Make some friends, maybe. But it was just a bunch of… a bunch of shit! And now I can't leave."

Ren gives him a moment before continuing. "I've known of people that have been hurt by Kamoshida, but it's important I hear your side too. How does Kamoshida run his volleyball team?"

"Through fear." Mishima says, losing a bit of his prior hesitance as he settles into the situation. "We're all scared of him. You wouldn't be able to tell, looking at him normally. And it isn't every day either, but he hits us if we have a bad practice. Problem is, when you're playing with someone like him, a 'bad practice' can even be our best. And for players like me who don't even belong on the team, it's the worst. He asks me for things. Errands, fixed posts like the one about the transfer student, and more isolated reaming."

Mishima talks with surprising passion, as if, once removed from his earlier paranoia, he's realized this is something he's wanted to complain about for a long time. As such, he doesn't seem to be holding anything back. That pleases Ren, of course, but Ren can't help but recoil a little as Mishima lifts his shirt. A deep purple bruise colors a significant portion of his stomach. It would take a lot to make bruises like that. And presumably, Mishima just took it.

"It's really hard, sometimes. But we're all thinking the same way." Mishima continues letting his shirt fall back. "Just a few more years of winning on the surface and hurting all the while. I mean, that's school right? It sucks, but nobody's coming to save you. You do whatever you can to suck it up. Drag yourself across that finish line to say you've made it. And one thing's for sure. Of course we don't want to stay on the team, but if we left, that'd definitely be worse."

Ren smiles, fully hidden by the mask. He thumbs a circle on his phone's screen discreetly from his pocket.

"Thanks, Mishima. Honestly. What you told me is going to be very important. And I know it probably doesn't feel like it, but I'm on your side." Ren slips a hand under his shirt, fishing for the knife, and Mishima tenses, only to be surprised with what he does next. Ren takes the wooden handle from under his shirt and kicks it over to Mishima. It spins a little near his feet, and the knife is just that, he finds.

Mishima lets out a breath, shaking his head as he grabs the handle curiously. "The whole time, and this was just fake?"

"Well, not really. I didn't want you to run off, so I broke the metal off before school." Ren says.

"Whatever." Mishima smiles, making to leave as Ren steps aside. "Is that a promise? That you're with us?"

"Call it that." Ren says, his voice brimming with confidence as Mishima steps down the stairs back to class.

The next steps throughout the day are simple. Cross-referencing his newly acquired class roster with that of the school's volleyball team, Ren discreetly uses his class time and more effective break periods to approach different members of the team. He spins his pencil between his fingers in satisfaction. He fumbles and drops it to the floor but he doesn't even care. Things are going great.

Everything falls into place in a perfect example of the domino effect. With each following member of the team he convinces to tell him something, whatever that might be, his case becomes stronger. Both in the pursuit of bringing Kamoshida to justice, but also to convince the next member to confide in him. Given that some of them have had years under Kamoshida's abuse, it's not easy, and some flat out refuse. But many are willing to be bargained with, especially because their confidence grows from knowing others made the same choice they did. In other words, it's extremely difficult to be the first person to sacrifice themselves and step into a hail of bullets. But if someone takes that leap, and survives no less, the rest follow.

But he's running out of time. There can't be more than 15 minutes until the game's supposed to start. THe empty halls are evidence of that, and the way his hands shake slightly as he procures a paperclip from his pencil case show he's nervous.

Ren tries to handle it to the best of his dexterity, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. It can't look normal to see a kid huddled in the empty halls, kneeling before a doorway, but he doesn't have time to be cautious anymore. His hands are covered by disposable latex gloves, thin and slightly flimsy over his hands. As Ren prepares to feed it into the keyhole, he nearly jumps out of his skin as someone suddenly speaks.

"You're trying to break in?" A woman with jagged black hair asks. "I can help you."

Ren is naturally surprised at her sudden appearance. She's not dressed in school uniform, but that's the least of his concerns.

"You'll help?"

She seems to siffen, as if realizing something.

"If you have a good reason." She says, lowering the tone of her voice.

"Well, some people would frown on breaking and entering, I'm sure." Ren says dryly, kneeling again to bring his attention back to the door. "But I'm not here to make a mess. There's a teacher that's been hurting some friends of mine. So, that's the gist of it. I'm not just going to let that happen anymore."

"So, you're a good person?" She tentatively asks, fiddling with a hand behind her back, gripping the handle of a knife tightly. This time, it is not a broken one.

"I wouldn't say that." Ren mutters, then refocuses. "I'm trying to be, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing. It's the never ending puzzle of my life, I guess. A code that I can't crack."

"If you're telling the truth, then I believe in you." She says. "

"Thanks. I'm not really a popular guy right now. But, forget that. What's your name? I'm Ren."

"My name is Miyagi."

"You alright, Miyagi? You look like you could use a minute." Ren says, sounding concerned.

Miyagi laughs, humourlessly. "I could probably use a day. You're in a rush though, right? So let me help."

Ren moves to the side to let Miyagi have a chance at the door. She procures a hair pin and bends it so it straightens. Then, she feeds it into the same opening Ren was fiddling around in with his paper clip.

"Need something a bit more solid than that." Miyagi explains. "Also have to know what you're looking for. It's not rocket science, but it's important to have an idea of the internal mechanism of the lock. Otherwise, you could've been here awhile."

In just a few moments there's a soft click, and she turns the handle, opening the door.

"Who taught you to do that?" Ren asks, curious.

"Someone I thought was my family."

"I'm sorry."

"His fault, not yours." Miyagi says, shrugging as they enter the room with the school's intercom's system. Ren closes the door behind them. She might just be brushing it off, but Ren can tell she's upset. Either she doesn't care that he can see it, or doesn't even notice she's letting it be seen so clearly on her face. Regardless, Ren doesn't have time to talk about her life. And she seems to understand that.

"You don't go to Shujin, do you?" Ren asks, but he's already sure of the answer.

"No, I don't. Does that matter?"

"Yeah, it does. I've got something I need to ask, no pressure. I was going to do it myself, but if you're not on the school records, I think you've got a better shot. I have to be honest, though. I can't imagine the school will like how we've broken in, so they'll probably send someone here once the intercom comes online. Still, even if they're fast, you should have a good few minutes uninterrupted." Ren explains. "You'd be breaking the rules of course, but since you're not from this school, I'm not sure if that's under their jurisdiction. There isn't no risk, but it should be minimal. So, what do you think?"

"The law has never done anything for me. I'm willing to help."

Ren smiles. "Then I'm lucky to have run into you today, Miyagi. Here's what I'm thinking."

The gymnasium is fairly full for the school day already being over. Many are flocking to watch the first game of the year. It's something to do, and since it's so early into the school year, people haven't yet started hating the mere concept of school.

Ryuji waves him over, so Ren settles on what sparring room there is on the bleachers in the gymnasium. It's a pretty nice facility, bigger than any school gym that he can remember. Newly-erected school banners hang from the rafters, showing a short but illustrious record. This is especially so for the more recent years. Kamoshida's reputation doesn't come unearned if the breadth of competition is any indicator.

Kobayakawa taps against the microphone, and a sheer shrill sounds, which effectively silences the gym as some in the crowd reach up to cover their ears.

"Sorry about that." Someone says, faintly caught by the microphone.

"Thank you all for attending! As per usual, an event to kick off the start of this new school year. Some of you are close to graduating and moving onto the next huge steps in your lives, whatever that might be. Others are here in their first years, just settling in. But all of us are united under the school's logo. So long as you're here, I hope you all never lose sight of your futures. With that said, let the exhibition game commence!" Kobayakawa says, cutting his microphone off.

"Not exactly a riveting speech." Ren says.

"Hey, it's better than our student council president." Ryuji says, pretending to gag. "I don't love the guy, but at least what he's saying makes some sense."

"You talk to the teams?" Ren asks.

"Yeah dude. Everything you told me to say. It was pretty detailed, y'know."

"Well, I had some time to think about it. Wanted to get this right, but now, it's out of our hands." Ren says, clasping his hands together as he takes a shaky breath.

The goal was obvious. This match is essentially fixed. Not in any real way. Shujin isn't paying Kosei to lose or anything. But this game has clear favorites. A large part of that, of course, is Suguru Kamoshida. Shujin's ace. The kind of player that elevates all of the players around him, like a puzzle piece that can accommodate any ally. That's what makes Ren nervous. Despite all of their preparations, a huge part of this plan is relying on other people. If Kamoshida even has a mediocre game by his standards, Shujin will win convincingly. But that's all irrational worries. If the students of Shujin can't take a step, they can't walk a mile. Much like Ren aspires to take up a mantle of hope and dismantle the wretched systems of the world, he'll nes for now, and entrust his hopes in others. Forced to be content that he's done all he can. put his hopes in the hands of others for now.

A coin toss lands in favor of Kosei, and as expected, they decide to serve. One of their shorter players stands far back court. It isn't surprising, though. There aren't an abundance of high-schoolers who can stand level with the netting. He throws the ball above his head, and soars up to meet it. The height of the player makes his jump look even more dramatic, and he slaps the ball downward toward Shujin's side.

Right between the feet of two red jerseys, the ball bounces in bounds. A point for Kosei. The squeak of shoes against wooden flooring is drowned out by the cheers of the away team's fans. Ren takes the opportunity to lean closer to Ryuji to talk.

"This might just be an exhibition game, but Kamoshida's mind reflected this school as a kingdom. He called himself a king. If people don't kneel to him, he has nothing. His entire life has been based on his successes through volleyball. He hasn't elevated the team because he thinks he is the team." Ren explains. "We're attacking his identity here. That's why I think it'll affect him in the castle."

Normally, Ren wouldn't talk about the metaverse in such a public place. But the gym acts as a sort of amphitheater because of all of the noise. That din drowns out most of what he's saying for anyone that isn't close, and it's not like what he's saying would raise any eyebrows anyway.

"Guess we'll see if you're right." Ryuji replies.

"What, you don't believe in me? This isn't that crazy compared to what else has happened the last few days."

"It really isn't." Ryuji concedes with a chuckle.

Kosei starts to build a confident lead in points, and a consistent theme begins to build throughout the crowd's conversation. 'Why isn't Kamoshida getting the ball?'

'He's done nothing.' others point out. It's a source of confusion for the spectators, as Shujin's team plays around him on the court. He receives minimal touches. Kosei's serves aren't perfect; Shujin is receiving most of them just fine, but no matter how much Kamoshida rotates his position, he never seems to be in the right area for the upcoming serve. It's as if the game is avoiding him like water around a rock.

The utter lack of influence he has over the game presents itself plain as day on the scorecards. And so, as expected, his jaw stiffens and he calls a timeout. Ren can't hear all that's said in the huddle, but his body language is more than enough. He's getting riled up, exactly as expected. There's nothing more infuriating than a variable out of your control, and so he's trying to reign them back in. He asserts himself with stiff jabs of his finger into one of the player's chest, and with harsh words to accompany them.

As the team returns to the court, Ren can't help but smirk.

"Kamoshida has a habit in his game. Athletically, there's not many who can match him, but that's only something Kosei has to worry about if he gets the ball. And even when he does get a chance…"

Shujin sets Kamoshida off of the serve from Kousei, but three players are already there for Kosei. In an aggressive move, they advanced preemptively and made a wall as they jumped, blocking his spike. His best play, easily and again the game follows a predictable pattern. Players from both Shujin and Kosei giving him as few chances with the ball as possible.

It isn't a blowout, which would've been preferable for Ren's nerves, but Kosei keeps a comfortable lead. And as the game winds closer to its conclusion, Kamoshida's patience reaches its end, forcing a break in play.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kamoshida says, grabbing the player closest to him, he backhands him across the face, and the boy gives a yelp. "We are losing because of your impudence. You hear me? Your futures run through me!"

He's yelling now, his head spinning around to look down on each of his team's players.

"I gave you time, and gave you a platform to prove your worth. But you all seem happy being disappointments." Kamoshida says, challenging someone to step up with his glare. "If any of you want to voice your… objections, now is the time. If you all step into line, you'll be treated with my full respect. And if you decide you have something to say, we'll be getting a whole lot closer."

Shujin's side of the court falls to a hush, their resolve straining under the oppressive pressure of Kamoshida's challenge. Kosei's team looks a little confused. A game of volleyball escalating so quickly on the other side of the net. A team's coach demanding so much from his players, while claiming to stand beside them as an equal. He certainly doesn't hold himself like one.

Ren sends a simple message, borrowing Ryuji's phone to text his own, which he left with Miyagi. 'This is Ren. Play it.'

To Kamoshida's, and likely everyone's shock, someone steps up. Mishima throws his arm in front of the student Kamoshida's still holding.

"This, and what you did to Ryuji. No, what you've done to all of us? That isn't coaching. I won't just take what you give us anymore. Let him go." Mishima demands, meeting his coach's eyes for once.

"Oh? Someone's getting feisty. I don't know who you think you are, Mishima, but I never said you have a choice." Kamoshida says. "I'll do whatever I want with you. That goes for any of you."

Kamoshida's grip loosens slightly on the student he's holding as the intercom comes online, breaking the tension between them somewhat.

"Huh? An announcement?" Kamoshida says.

There's a brief delay, and then voices come through the speakers, garbled just enough to make their identities vague.

"The way he looks at some of our female classmates is disgusting. I don't know how a guy like that became a teacher."

"I want to work hard and play good for the team, but he's taken it way too far. It's not fun to play sports anymore."

"The whole atmosphere around that place is bad. I'm new to the team, but everyone's just quiet all the time. It's like they're scared to crack a joke or something."

"Team spirit is one thing, but he's killed that. It's just like working for a black company. Nobody wants to say these places exist, but they do."

The eyes of the students on the court and on the bench widen, as they recognize the voices broadcast to be words they spoke earlier on.

"A friend of mine is on the volleyball team. He didn't want to let me see, but he wasn't wearing a long sleeved shirt. He had bruises on his arm after practice that weren't there in the morning. Whatever practices he's running aren't normal."

"There's some popular blonde haired girl in the school… Ann, I think her name was? They have a weird relationship. Whenever she's with him, she's grimacing. I feel bad for her."

On and on, similar accounts join to paint a damning picture of Shujin's gym teacher. Something finally acknowledged, the students of the volleyball team look vindicated in how they've all been subject to the same brutal treatment. That they aren't alone in their dislike of him.

"Isn't anyone going to shut that off?" Kamoshida yells. "That's blasphemous! It's defamation. Everything I've done for this school, and you're letting them lie on my name? You are fucking useless, Kobayakawa!"

"Kawakami, if you would."

"What? Why me?" She asks, sounding annoyed.

"Just do it, please."

Kawakami sighs, but makes her way out of the gym. Even further frustrated with how Kamoshida yells at her to go faster.

"We at Shujin would like to make a substitution. Mr. Kobayakawa, I assume you don't have a problem with that?"

Kobayakawa seems surprised to be called upon, but he tries his best to look dignified in that balloon of a suit. "Of course." He says. "If it's what the team wants, then I don't have a say in it."

"No, you idiot!" Kamoshida bellows at Kobayakawa, but he switches his attention to the team. "You don't win without me. This team, this entire school is me! I will ruin your lives for even thinking you can throw me off of my court!"

Mishima ignores him.

"All in favor, please raise your hands. I don't think we can have a legitimate game with Mr. Kamoshida. It doesn't matter how good you are if you can't be good to those around you."

Ren smiles with something like pride at Mishima from the sideline, almost wanting to give his applause at how he took control of the situation. Ren had no idea Mishima had that in him. It's a better outcome than Ren dreamed of. He did what he could to prep them for this step up, but this is all Mishima right now.

Hands raise up to the sky with confidence in the numbers around them for once. One by one, hands meet each other in solidarity and protest. Instead of walking over the cracking ice that came with the fear of his wrath, they refuse to look away any longer, and find themselves on solid ground. The fear that kept them off balance and selfish has abated. Finally, they've found their voices.

"I am a teacher. You, you are all students." Kamoshida whispers, shaking with anger. "You have no right, no power. You hold no control over me!"

"This is no way to address our students, Kamoshida." Mr. Hiruta says. With even the biology teacher's protest, Kamoshida finally steps down. He doesn't just sit on the bench. Instead, he opts to kick the gym door open and go off to the intercom room. The broadcast follows him tauntingly the whole way, until finally it comes to a close a few minutes later. By the time Kamoshida gets to the room, Kawakami is gone and it's already been locked.

And somehow, Shujin's eventual loss in volleyball doesn't feel like a loss at all.

Ren now walks through the streets of Tokyo on the way to the train station. There, he finds Miyagi waiting as expected. She leans back against an Idol's poster, someone named Rise. Miyagi looks wary of her surroundings.

"Thanks for that," Ren says. "I really owe you."

"Not a problem. It was easy." Miyagi replies, handing him his phone. "Now, I have something to do. Bye."

"Wait up a second." Ren says, and she turns back to face him. He holds some money out.

Miyagi looks at him in disgust, about to protest before he speaks.

"Here. I think you could use it better than I could." Ren says, putting the bills in her hands.

"You're just… giving it to me?"

"Yeah. You don't have to give it back or anything. I'm giving you the money because I want you to have it." Ren says.

"I just don't understand. Isn't money everything to you?"

"No. Money's really important, but it only becomes valuable to me if it's used. I think you'll make more use of it than I do, so I'm giving it to you."

"Okay, so I don't have to give it back?" She asks, pocketing 10,000 yen.

"It's all yours." Ren assures her. "And here, take this."

Ren hands her a slip of torn paper with his name, address at Sae's apartment, and his phone number. There's also a summary of which train lines to follow to get to the apartment.

"What's all this?" She asks.

Ren points to the paper. "That's just some of my information. I figured since I'm in your debt, I'd show you how to reach me if you ever need a favor."

"Right. Thank you."

"Hopefully I'll see you around." Ren says in parting.

"Don't count on it." She replies, turning to leave the station as Ren hops on the train.

Yongen-Jaya. 4:47 PM. April 9th, 2016.

Ren takes his steps at a measured pace through the suburban neighborhood. Deciding the streets are empty enough that he won't be taken as a crazy person for talking to himself, he focuses and calls arsene.

"At your behest, I have been called forth." Arsene booms, his dark wings spreading wide as he materializes before Ren.

"Just a question, if you have the time. There's still some stuff I'm unsure of about the metaverse. I understand that we have to beat the palace ruler, but does that mean we have to kill them?"

"The part of a person's mind known as a 'palace' is like an engine in your world. It cannot be properly stoked through thousands of miniature blows or a mere modicum of hatred." Arsene says. "No. In order to achieve the world you so seek, you must engage him more directly."

Ren frowns at that. "I can't, though. If I had to go to him face to face again, I'd be too suspicious. I've already said too much."

"Not a worry." Arsene says in that deep staccato of his. "You need not say a word to him. The method I would suggest is through a message. Written, posted. It does not matter. But it must be a flamboyant affair. You can't whisper it to him in passing, or merely send a card like a lover might. Rather, it must be displayed for many to witness, and to invoke an inferno of his ego's ire. Let it be known you can only achieve this heightened state of awareness once. If you threaten to steal his heart, you must break into his palace within 48 hours of his realization. These are uncompromising rules no matter the target. The treasure, the key to his heart, will only manifest during those 48 hours. Should you let that time period pass without the treasure being stolen, the target will experience 'kickback'. Just like the human body repels disease and sickness with white blood cells, the target's mind, body, and ego will irreversibly strengthen each other."

Ren pauses, "So if we don't change Kamoshida's heart after we send a calling card, we'll make him worse?"

"Yes, he will be seeped further in the evil that makes his person." Arsene confirms.

"And if we steal that treasure from the metaverse without killing him?"

"It's not the ideal method, but it's one suiting your goal. If you send a calling card, announcing that you will 'steal his heart' the Shadow will recognize that and prepare accordingly, accessing their strength. So long as you make that bold declaration, their treasure will manifest beyond any doubt."

"That's nice and convenient to only have one thing to steal."

Arsene shakes its head. "It's an exchange. Your calling card allows the shadow to reach the full extent of its power. To show its true form. But only after you've defeated it can its treasure take form. Once the shadow has been forced to accept it's lost, then there is nothing in your way. But you must still defeat the enemy at the peak of its strength before your reward is earned."

"Well, that makes sense. An invisible method to completely reform people can't just be easy. Finding the treasure, sending the calling card, and defeating the target's shadow. We've got our work cut out for us. Thanks, Arsene."

"One last word of parting, boy. I am not against your seeking my counsel. I understand your lack of familiarity with the space between our worlds, and it is in my interest that you fulfil your pact with me. However, I would not suggest doing so during combat, in the real world or metaverse both. Although I am indeed powerful, that power does not fully extend to your realm. I cannot influence time or cull your enemies for you. If death comes knocking, do not call for me."

"I understand."

With a tip of his top hat, Arsene dematerializes, leaving Ren alone. Ren looks down to his phone. It's earlier than he's expected, and there's a few minutes before his shift at Leblanc.

I've got to stay on Sae's good side. If I can get her to trust me, she said she'll look into getting my case dropped. Ren thinks. That means not being late for work, and not giving her any reason to suspect me.

Ren shakes his head as he leaves the backstreet, pocketing his phone. He's not sure how to not look suspicious as an already convicted criminal. And in the eyes of a scrutinous prosecutor, won't anything he does look suspicious? He feels in over his head, trying to find some sort of formula to evade her suspicion. Maybe the best way is just to act as himself. Regardless, he can't give a blatant reason for her to change her perspective. The fact that she suspects his case to be rigged against him is a very nice first, and he feels an almost intangible connection to her, just like Ryuji. Some sort of baseline understanding of trust. He has to develop that, and showing up to work on time isn't an option.

Still, he has some time. So Ren wanders about, finding a movie theatre that's sadly closed. He would've liked the opportunity to watch something here, maybe after a shift. Still, it doesn't quite look abandoned, so maybe it's under maintenance? The cafe is an arms reach away, so Ren doesn't have to worry about transit. He'll walk over closer to.

Not far from the theatre is a doctor's clinic. Peculiarly, the door is just left hanging open. With no one around, Ren decides to walk up and check it out. It's a pretty small place, so he assumes it's a private business rather than one with multiple doctors. In that case, it might not even be open. But then, why the open door?

Now that he's closer, he can hear voices. Something gives him pause before he enters, so he waits at the top of the stairs to listen.

"Even your people must realize this contract is absurd." A mature woman's voice rings out clearly. "I don't plan on selling my soul, sorry."

"You're going to be paid at higher rates than before, is that not enough?" A man's voice speaks. Not anything recognizable for Ren.

"With what you're asking of me? No. No recognition for the drugs I make and no information on what they're being used for? Sorry. I might not look it, but I'm actually pretty responsible." That same woman says, not sounding apologetic at all. Maybe she's someone who works here?

"I've seen your quarterlies. You need us, or this wreck you call a business falls apart. Remember that your drugs don't serve anyone but us. If you don't accept our offer, then I'm going to have to do something about it."

It sounds like there are more than two people in there, and that gives Ren worry. Something's going to happen if he doesn't intervene. This kind of thing is all too familiar, but he's long since made up his mind. There's no way in hell he's going to turn away from this, logic be damned.

"Do what, exactly. Threaten me? The bringer of death? You and I both know the only reason you keep coming back is because you haven't been able to replicate what I do. You can't find a doctor on this earth as good as I am, and that pisses you right off, I'm sure."

"Sure, we need your brain. Your talent, if you could call it that, for now. But that means nothing if you don't do what we want. And I don't even want you to talk. We're going to start this just by roughing you up. Questions can come after."

Ren takes a shaky breath as he opens the door, settling his nerves as best he can. Now or never.

"Excuse me, ma'am? I believe I have an appointment here for 4:55?" Ren says as he leaves the door open even wider behind him. Now standing in the small lobby of the doctor's reception office, it's almost cramped with four suited bodies obscuring most of his line of sight. Still, over one of their shoulders, Ren meets eyes with the doctor. He winks at her before they turn his way, and smiles.

Takemi's eyes widen in momentary shock, but with all eyes on Ren, she wrestles it back and maintains her composure.

"If you'll excuse me gentlemen, my patient and I have a timetable. I'm sure this revised contract can be discussed at a later date?"

The man in charge grits his teeth, but resigns himself to leaving, giving a nod to the rest of them, who follow him out in file. He's the last to leave, and he hangs in the doorway for a moment to say a parting remark.

"We'll be back."

"Naturally."

He closes the door behind him, and Takemi gets up from behind her desk to stand at the door.

"Assholes." Takemi grumbles as she locks the door to her clinic securely, not bothering to watch the men leave.

"You did a great job." Ren says with surprise. "You caught on right away. It's hard to get someone to go along with something like that."

Takemi scoffs. "I should be saying that to you. Sorta saved my ass there with that bluff you pulled. But yeah. You set me up, so all I had to do was play along. Good on both of us, I guess. So, what brings you here? Not every day I get patients."

"Well, I stopped by because I was curious about the clinic. I've got somewhere to be by 5, but what kind of drugs do you sell?"

"None to get you high. At least, none I'd sell to you."

"No, it's nothing like that, I promise. I was thinking of something more medicinal, or for studying purposes. Something to keep you up or boost recovery."

"Well, I've got some stuff, but it'd cost you. My name's Tae Takemi, by the way. You can call me whatever. I'm not too strict about rules, but don't touch my stuff unless I say you can."

"Got it. It's nice to meet you, ma'am. I'm Ren. Ren Amamiya."

"I'll remember that." Takemi says, grabbing her clipboard which pins paper of varying sizes, sticky notes, and files to the wooden back of it. "Still, how old do you think I am?"

Ren puts a hand to his chin and thinks about it, his brow furrowing. "26, maybe?"

She smiles at that, shaking her head. "Okay you're just trying to flatter me now."

"I wouldn't do that." Ren says earnestly. "I know it's important to people that they still look young, but I think lying about how old you think they are is worse. There's nothing wrong with looking your age."

"Well, I can't say that you're making me unhappy. I'm 32, Ren. But you make a good point. As nice as it is to know, it doesn't really matter. If you have a question, go ahead."

"About what they were asking you about then. It seemed like it was pretty serious stuff, and that's why I stepped in. What was it that they needed from you so badly?"

"They wanted to commission me for some more custom medicine. Stuff is hard work, so I charge them a premium. And while they're willing to pay it, their turnarounds are fucking brutal." Takemi says, then seems to catch herself after. "Sorry. Probably shouldn't be swearing around a kid."

"It's not a problem." Ren says. "You're just expressing yourself."

She nods, but still says, "I can do better."

"A commission might be just what I need. Not today, but soon in the future, hopefully. Maybe a few months from now?"

"What, have you gone gambling recently? You're going to need a lot of money, and I don't think a high school kid has those kinds of funds. Can't cut favors when it's commission work, and usually it's a company order, not an individual."

"Oh, no, that's not my style. It's more of a year long investment, actually. High risk, high reward. I don't have much right now, but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to work myself up to a commission before long."

"Hey, as long as it's not blood money, I don't care where you get it. Even I have some morals here. Although… If you're interested in making some more immediate money, I do have something you could do."

"Really?" Ren says, perking up. "What's that?"

Takemi smiles at his earnest enthusiasm. "Clinical trials. It's work you won't be able to find anywhere else, that's for sure."

"If I can help you in any way, then I will." Ren says. "My schedule is a bit uncertain though. School from 8-3 most days, but beyond that it's a bit messy. I might not be available at all some days."

"That's completely fine. Here," Takemi says, jotting down on a piece of paper before ripping it and handing it to Ren. "my phone number and my hours. Send me a text if you feel like stopping by, yeah?"

That's the fourth time I've felt this way. Ren thinks as he pockets the note carefully. First it was Sae, then Ryuji, then Sojiro, and now her. Whatever it is, it makes me feel a bit… fuller. It's nice. Feels like I'm finding my footing here.

"I'm glad to have met you today, Dr. Takemi." Ren says, basking in the warmth in his chest as he extends a hand her way.

"First time I've heard that in a while. Both someone that calls me a doctor, and even thinks he's lucky to see me. There's something special about you, kid. Don't doubt that, alright?" Takemi says, shaking his hand. She then opens the door to see him out, hanging in the doorway as he walks down the stairs.

"See-ya." Ren says, beaming a natural smile on his face as he gives her a curt wave.

Takemi simply smiles as she watches him walk away. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, and a rare expression of amusement on her face as Ren goes off to work.

8:15 PM, Sae's apartment.

"Sis! You're back early." Makoto says.

Sae kicks her shoes off hastily, hanging her work bag for a moment and rolling her shoulders. "I suppose I am. You certainly seem excited."

"Well, I had a pretty interesting day, that's all."

"Oh? What happened?" Sae asks, walking out from the doorway and into the dining room. Makoto's sitting at the dinner table with her books open, but she looks practically bursting to say something. So much so that she usually studious Makoto isn't paying attention at all to her books. She isn't even holding her pencil. If Sae didn't know her sister, she'd assume that Makoto was trying to look as if she were studying, but actually wasn't.

"You know that transfer student at Shujin? The one you decided to… take in?"

"Well, of course I know Amamiya. I was the one who decided to take on his probation. Where are you going with this?"

"I found out what he'd done at school, and I acted on it." Makoto says, beaming with pride. "So, he's already on an assault charge, but he doubled down on the first day of school! It's ridiculous, but it's true. He must've thought we'd just keep quiet about it. Instead, I asked the teacher and principal to meet us, and there we got to the root of the issue in no time. Sure enough, the teacher confirmed that the transfer student attacked him! He's being expelled on April 16th, as is only right."

"Are you telling me the truth right now?" Sae asks, any warmth in her voice dropping.

"Yes, of course. I collected all of this information this afternoon and we came to that conclusion with Principal Kobayakawa. Now it's just a matter of paperwork."

"Makoto, what the hell?" Sae says sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "Why would you do that?"

Makoto reels, thrown for a loop. "Because he's guilty? He chose to associate himself with Sakamoto and apparently Takamaki. Even if he didn't have a criminal record, that would've made me raise my eyebrow. I've finally taken matters into my own hands."

"No, no that's not it. This is all backwards, Makoto. Why are you acting like he's a villain? Were you looking this whole time, just waiting for him to slip up? This isn't how you should conduct yourself."

"No, you're not making any sense, sis. He's a criminal. He should be in jail. That's why I didn't understand why you brought him into our house." Makoto says, raising her voice. "You should be happy with me right now. You should be proud of me! Why are you acting like what I did wasn't right?! Like it wasn't impressive?"

"Makoto, did I not say it? I brought Ren here because I believed he was falsely accused. I would never bring a criminal into my home without doing my research."

Makoto scoffs. "Yeah? What research that was, to bring in a rapist. How can you even look yourself in the mirror? If dad were here, he would have Amamiya rotting in a cell for the rest of his years!"

"You don't know my father, so don't speak of him, Makoto. Your brain wasn't even developed enough to remember what he was like before we lost our mother. So I'll tell you." Sae says coldly. "It's more than you deserve for how you're speaking to me right now. My father was a man who gave his life for the cause, yes. But he did not spend his days or exhaust his life hunting down teenagers that are merely suspected of heinous crimes. If he were here — and gods I wish he was — he would have the same interest I do. He died trying to do work other people shied away from."

"I'm done, Sae." Makoto says, throwing her hands up. "I'm not just going to take your words for the truth. My father was a good man, and not the one you claim to remember. He wouldn't choose to ignore the law like you are. Laws are in place to be followed. Anyone who breaks those laws is wrong."

"You can't just follow the books and work with logic in all situations!" Sae yells. "That attitude will get you killed. If you want to lead a successful life, you have to be able to see beyond black and white. Just because it's written, doesn't mean it's true."

"Then what should I believe, if you're all knowing, Sae?" Makoto yells back. "Following the law is right until it's wrong? Why do you get to decide when someone is evil or not? You don't make any sense."

"Enough. He's under sentence, Makoto. The legal system decided his crime was worth one year of probation, so if you have a problem with that, you're in agreement with me. If you think he needs to be imprisoned for life, that's the same as me saying he shouldn't spend time in prison at all. Both of those thoughts are not in line with what the prosecution found." Sae says, smiling coldly. "You think rapists need harsher sentences? So do I. But our legal system doesn't support that. So what now? You might not have realized it, but your sense of justice doesn't represent hold up in practice."

"So why? Why are you still a prosecutor if you're so unhappy with it? If it's so wrong, why are you still following in dad's footsteps?"

"Makoto, I'm doing it because I don't want to die. I'm a prosecutor because so long as I am, we'll keep our necks above the waterline. I don't want you to be another me. I don't know what I'm doing." She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I get so frustrated sometimes, and I see you getting mad just like I do. It's completely irrational. I keep seeing myself in you, and it scares me."

"So you finally admit it. You're broken, Sae. And I don't have to listen to someone so clearly unstable. You're enforcing the law even as you denounce it? Don't make me laugh." Makoto is absolutely furious, clenching her fist around the mug holding her tea. She storms toward the doorway, leaving Sae behind. "I don't have any more words for you! Don't talk to me!"

Ren ascends the steps to the apartment door, just about 2000 yen to his name. If the doors were thinner or if he were paying more attention, he might've heard the heated argument from inside. However, he was not. And so, he didn't have time to duck before, with impeccable timing, he opened the door just to get hit by a mug. It could be seen as almost comical, how horribly perfect his timing was.

Ren was greeted back to the Niijima household with a cup hurled at his head. Intentional or not, it cut his skin all the same, and all too familiarly as the shards break over his skull.