5/5

Akira narrows his eyes. Concentrate. You've got this. A single bead of sweat runs from his brow down his cheek. Its slide needles its way through his focus. Come on! His hands tighten on his weapon, and with a whoosh, his target speeds towards him.

Now! Akira swings. The baseball clatters into the cage behind him.

"Swing and a miss!" Ryuji shouts, laughing, from behind the grate.

"You're surprisingly bad at this," Ann says, giggling.

Akira grits his teeth and resumes his form. This time. This time, for sure.

He misses again. "It's rigged," he calls, nodding. "Definitely."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "It's not rigged, dude. You just suck."

Another pitch. Another miss.

Akira leaves the batting cages with his head hanging low. Morgana sits atop his bag, a sad look on his feline face. "And to think, I put all my expectations on you."

"Oh, shut up." He drops onto one of the benches outside the cages, alongside Ryuji.

Ann squeezes a helmet over her head. "My turn!"

Ryuji yawns. "So," he says, as Ann takes her position in the cage. "Anyone hear anything about the stalker dude?"

"Yeah," Ann says. A ball flies. She takes a moment, then swings. CRACK. The ball hurls away. "I took a look at the PhanSite this morning. Nakanohara called his ex and apologized for harassing her. She was so excited that she made a follow-up post where she told everyone about the whole thing."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "That's incredible! We're two for two!"

Another pitch. Ann swings. CRACK. "Me too!" She cries.

Akira takes out his phone and makes his way to the PhanSite. "There's a bunch more requests on here." He scrolls through a few and frowns. "But a lot of them seem like the same stuff as before. ‘Help, my brother's a jerk.' 'My mom just, like, totally doesn't get me.' Junk like that."

"That's too bad," Morgana says as Ann hits another ball towards the fences. "You're incredible, Lady Ann!"

The girl turns back to them, smiles, flashes a 'V' sign with her fingers, and reassumes her batting stance.

"But if we're gonna make a name for ourselves," Ryuji says. "We need someone bigger than just some small-time stalker. We need to target someone like a celebrity."

"Or a CEO," Ann says, swinging. CRACK.

"Or a politician," Morgana says. He looks over at Akira. "Any ideas?"

"Should we-" Akira begins, but then his phone vibrates. He frowns. "It's Mishima."

MISHIMA: Did you see?! The PhanSite is really buzzing!

Akira shows Ryuji the message. "That dude's got no chill,” the blonde boy says.

"He reminds me of someone," Morgana mumbles.

Ryuji's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Akira ignores their bickering as he replies.

AKIRA: That's good.

MISHIMA: Good?! It's great!

MISHIMA: BTW, what are you up to later?

Akira remembers what he told the boy on the school's roof.

AKIRA: I have work. At the flower shop.

MISHIMA: You work at a flower shop?

AKIRA: Yes.

MISHIMA: OK, cool. Let's meet up after!

"Hey Ryuji," Akira says.

The boy's eyes follow Ann as she hits another ball. "What's up?"

"You busy tonight?"

"Nah, I've got nothing going on."

"Wanna meet up with Mishima after my shift at the shop ends?"

The boy puts his hands behind his head and frowns. "Sure."

AKIRA: Sounds good. Ryuji is in too.

MISHIMA: Okay, awesome!

Ryuji looks over at Akira. "You're not just asking me to hang out because you don't want to chill with Mishima alone, right?"

Akira flashes him his best grin and says, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Uh-huh." Ryuji turns his gaze back to Ann. "Yo, Ann! Wanna hang tonight with Mishima?"

She shakes her head as the last ball flies towards her. This does nothing to break her concentration, and she swings and sends it flying. She steps away from the plate, a smile on her face, and pulls her helmet free. Her blonde curls cascade down to her shoulders. "I can't. I have a shoot downtown later." She exits the cage and stares down at Akira. "You really are going to hang out with Mishima then?"

Akira shrugs. "I guess so."

"Damn," Ryuji says, as Ann hangs up her bat. "How'd you get so good at that?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. It's not that hard. You just follow the ball and swing when it gets close." She sits down next to Akira.

"Yeah, I know how to hit a baseball, Ann. I was asking how you got so good at doing it. I don't remember you playing it back in middle school."

"I didn't," she says, with a shake of her head. "I didn't play anything. I was so bad at sports growing up."

"Well, you got good at it somehow," Ryuji mutters.

"Aww," she says, and reaches over Akira's shoulder and ruffles the blonde boy's hair. "You're so sweet."

Ryuji's cheeks flush, and he swats her hand away. "Knock it off."

A faint little hiss escapes Morgana. "Anyway! Akira, weren’t you going to tell us about that new Persona you used against Nakanohara?"

Akira slides his phone back into his pocket. “You’re right. I’ve been trying to find a time to bring that up. Thanks for reminding me." Akira had been too exhausted to explain everything during their exfiltration of Mementos.

The other thieves gather around, and Akira gives them a brief explanation of Igor and the Velvet Room.

“That,” Ann says, once he’s finished, “is insanely creepy.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji says. “I remember us talking about it, but I thought it was just a dream you were having. I didn’t realize you were still having it. You said he’s the one who gave you the Nav app?”

“He’s claimed to,” Akira replies, with a shrug. “He’s not big on answering questions. So, who knows?” He looks down at Morgana, who has sprawled out alongside him. “There’s something else weird, too. He doesn’t seem to know about Morgana.”

Morgana shakes his head. “I still have no idea what that means.”

“Are we sure this Igor thing is real?” Ann asks. Everyone looks at her, and she reddens a bit. “Well, I mean, okay. You dreamed you could summon a new Persona, right? And you had to use some of your other Personae to create it? Maybe this is your subconscious, or unconscious, or whatever, doing… I dunno, something?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes, but Akira nods. “I had the same thought,” he says. “If you want to get technical, I still don’t have any real, tangible proof Igor exists. We know the Metaverse exists because we’ve physically been there. We can bring things back from it and into it, and we affected Kamoshida through it. But is Igor somehow responsible for my use of Personae, or is he just some hoop my mind jumps through to try and make sense of this power?” He pats the pocket that holds his phone. “We all have the Nav app, but I’m the only one who’s interacted with Igor. Why didn’t you guys visit the Velvet Room after obtaining your Personae?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Maybe it has something to do with you being the Wild Card?” Morgana asks. “That would be my guess. Plus, you’re our leader. If Igor can combine Personae into other Personae, but the three of us can only use one Persona, there isn’t much reason for us to go to the Velvet Room.”

Akira nods. “Maybe.”

Ryuji chuckles. “Man, and I thought I was having a crazy month.”

Akira smiles up at them and sighs. “Well, at the least, we can try and look into this a bit. Who knows? Maybe someone else has been to the Velvet Room. Not to mention,” and Akira suppresses a shudder, “I’ve got no idea what Igor wants.”

#

"This one?" Haru asks.

"Enamored Orchid."

She nods and points to another. "This one?"

"Justice Jasmine."

"Very good," she replies. Her finger drifts over the shelf of flowers, and she hums a little tune to herself. "Oh, how about this one?"

Akira shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest. "Please. That's a Gold Gerbera. Piece of cake."

"You know," Morgana purrs from his spot on the shelf. "You don't sound nearly as cool as you think you do right now."

Haru nods, straightens her baseball cap and fixes him with a bright smile. "Well done, Akira! You've learned them all in such a short time. I'm impressed."

Her grin is a little too much for him, and Akira averts his gaze. "Uh, thanks."

Haru's smile soon grows tired, and she lets out a little sigh and stares out at the small crowd out in the mall's central corridor. "It certainly is slow tonight."

Akira yawns and nods. "I know. It's nice to get a break now and then, but time sure is dragging." He pulls out one of the shop's small metallic chairs and takes a seat. Morgana leaps down from his spot and settles in Akira's lap. He idly strokes the cat's head, and Haru smiles down at the two of them.

"So," she says, after a few moments. "You never told me."

“Never told you what?”

“Did Mako-chan like her gift?”

Akira, for all his self-control, feels his face flush. "She, uh, appreciated the gesture."

Haru sucks in her lips in a small smile and stares up at the ceiling. "That's all it was? A gesture?"

"That's not-"

"Because it certainly seemed more than a gesture."

"You have to understand-"

"A gesture is something small. I don't think sneaking into a classroom before school to hide a present in Mako-chan’s desk would be a gesture, Akira."

"Haru, I-"

"She certainly seemed taken by the gesture."

Akira blinks. "Did she?"

Haru shrugs. "But I suppose, if it were only a gesture, you wouldn't be too interested in her reaction."

She meets his eyes. They're narrowed. "You know," he says, tone flat. "You're kind of sadistic."

Haru blinks, and then they are both laughing. "I'm sorry," she says, once she catches her breath. "But she did seem to like it. I didn't get a good look at it, not that I was trying to pry. But she put it in her bag and left the room. Her cheeks were redder than yours right now."

"I see," Akira says, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. "That's... good."

They spend a few moments in companionable silence before Haru breaks it once more. "The other night, you seemed rather distracted, Akira."

"Hmm?"

"When that woman showed up and ordered those red roses, you seemed a little flustered."

"Well," Akira says, clearing his throat. "It was an unusual request."

"I suppose," Haru says and glances towards the front of the shop. Then, she leans in conspiratorially. "Want to know something interesting?"

"Uh, sure."

"I think that woman was involved with the Phantom Thieves," she whispers.

Akira and Morgana stiffen. "Crap," Morgana mewls.

Akira tries to settle into a more relaxed posture. "What would make you say that?" He asks calmly.

"You've seen the PhanSite, yes?" Haru asks.

Akira shrugs. "I've heard of it."

Haru pulls out her phone and flips to it. "Well, I was scrolling through it this afternoon..." She begins to relate the details of the woman's request and the strange instructions the PhanSite's admin had privately emailed to her. 'Go to Rafflesia in the Shibuya Underground Mall. Wear red. Order eleven roses. Exactly eleven.' Sure, they had given her some additional instructions. They'd told her to go to a jewelry store and ask to see a specific necklace, go to the music store and place a series of CDs in a particular order back onto the shelf. All of that to disguise who they were and from where they watched her.

But.

"And so, it looks like the Phantom Thieves managed to change his heart! Isn't that incredible?"

"Yeah," Akira says. "Amazing."

"We need to be more careful," Morgana says. "We were way too careless."

Akira nods. It was stupid to use a place we frequent. Hell, a place I work! If someone ever got suspicious, all they had to do was follow the path the woman took through the mall, and they'd cross paths with him. Haru continues to chatter away, but Akira’s mind begins to backtrack, and he recalls Igor’s words. If they didn’t notice this, had they missed something else?

#

Ryuji leans across the table towards Akira. “So, I’ve been thinking about that Yukio Kan, guy.”

Mishima spins around in his chair and glances at them. “That guy who died? What about him?”

Akira doesn’t glare at Ryuji, but the look he gives him is not the warmest. “Nothing,” he assures Mishima, then thinks better of it. “I was at the hotel when he died. It’s nothing and-“

“You were?” Mishima asks, eyes wide. “Whoa.” He glances back at the door of the diner.

“Anyway,” Ryuji cuts in. “I was thinking about what you said and about how the official story definitely isn’t what happened. You said there were some guys in there with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Akira replies with a nod. “I ran out before-”

“Wait,” Mishima interrupts. “You actually saw him die? Of his heart attack?”

“Wasn’t a heart attack, dude,” Ryuji tells him. “Akira says he was, like, vomiting black stuff and-”

“Seriously?” Mishima asks.

“Look,” Akira quickly cuts in. “I’d rather not talk about this right now.” Akira gives Ryuji a look and compels him to understand that they’ll talk about this later, then takes a sip of his tea and asks Mishima, “What’d you keep looking at the door for?” He asks.

Mishima glances back at the two boys. “Huh? What’d you mean?”

“Akira’s right,” Ryuji says, mouth half-filled with udon. “You’ve been staring at that door for, like, ten minutes now. You expectin’ someone else?”

“N-no. Well…”

Morgana squirms inside Akira’s bag. “He’s up to something.”

Akira’s eyes narrow. “What’s going on?” It’s not terribly late, but the dinner crowds have gone home. The diner is empty, save for a few scattered couples and groups of friends.

Mishima glances back towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Yes!” He says, then raises his hand in the air.

Ryuji and Akira turn to look, and their eyes bulge. Nakanohara Natsuhiko stands in the diner’s doorway, spots them, and begins to walk over.

“What’s going on?” Ryuji asks, then turns to Mishima. “What the hell is going on?”

Akira’s hands clench. “What did you do?”

“What is it?” Morgana mewls. “What’s wrong, guys?”

Mishima pales. “I didn’t do anything. I figured-“ but then Nakanohara stands next to their table and regards the three teenagers.

Morgana, from his little hole in Akira’s bag, cries, “Oh, crap!”

“May I, um, sit?” He asks.

“Sure,” Mishima says and slides over.

“No,” both Ryuji and Akira say. Ryuji’s eyes narrow. “We don’t know who you are, man. So, like, get your own table.”

Nakanohara’s eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was told-“

“No, it’s fine,” Mishima says and looks at the other two boys. “You guys are gonna want to hear him out.”

Morgana begins to moan, “Get him out of here!” But it is too late.

Nakanohara sits down. He wears a suit similar to the one he wore in Mementos. He sets a briefcase down on the ground alongside him. He dips his head. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?” Akira asks, already guessing where this conversation is going.

Nakanohara smiles. “For what you did. To me. For me. I feel a lot better than I have in a while.”

“We don’t-“ Ryuji starts.

“You are members of the Phantom Thieves, yes?” Nakanohara asks. Mishima beams at the two of them. Ryuji and Akira glance at one another. They say nothing. “Right, of course. You wouldn’t want your identities known.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know what you did to me, but the night after I got that Calling Card, I just… felt different. I realized what I’d done to my ex-girlfriend, and I knew how horrible I’d been. I called her to tell her I was sorry. She didn’t forgive me, but I wasn’t expecting her to, and that’s fine. I went on the PhanSite, and saw what she’d written. I can’t believe I’d done something to scare her that much. I reached out to the admin, and here I am.”

“So,” Ryuji says. “The only reason you’re here is to thank us?”

“Ryuji!” Morgana growls. Akira shuts his eyes. Goddammit.

Nakanohara smiles. “Well, no. I mean, I do want to thank you for changing my heart. But, there’s something else I want to talk about.”

“And what’s that?” Akira asks.

Nakanohara meets Akira’s eyes. “I’d like to request that you change someone’s heart.”

Ryuji scoffs, crosses his arms, and leans back in his seat. “There’s a site for that, man. What’re you tellin’ us for?”

Nakanohara blinks. “Well, I did originally go to the site to make the request, but the admin-”

Mishima cuts him off. “The guy he wants to request is a big deal, and I figured it’d be better if we kept it off the site for now. He’ll never see us coming that way.”

Akira turns his eyes to Mishima. ‘Us?’

“This is not how this is supposed to work,” Morgana growls.

“So, then,” Ryuji asks with a shrug. “Who’s this big shot?”

Nakanohara pales a bit, swallows, and says, “Ichiryusai Madarame.”

#

Kamoshida sits in the room. Its walls are a dull gray, and the air tastes stale in his nostrils and upon his tongue. It has been a long few days. He is so tired.

The two detectives regard each other from across the table. "I think that's enough for tonight," the one says. They had given their names, but Kamoshida doesn't remember them.

The door opens, and a uniformed officer steps in. He walks up to the nearest detective and whispers something in his ear. "Seriously?" The man asks in response—the officer shrugs. The detective turns to his partner and whispers something to him.

"That right?" The second asks.

Kamoshida follows this exchange, uncomprehending.

Both detectives stand and follow the officer out the door, without another word to the disgraced Olympian.

He sits in the quiet, alone with his terrible thoughts.

Then the door opens.

A thin figure steps inside. He is young. Sandy brown hair falls to his shoulders, but it is immaculate in its style. He wears a school's tan uniform, but Kamoshida does not recognize the institution. Black gloves cover his hands.

He carries with him a steel briefcase, and after shutting the door behind him, sets it on the table. The noise is sharp, single, and painful. Kamoshida shrinks from it.

When the boy speaks, his words are smooth, silken. "A man spends his days fulfilling whatever sick desire pops into his head, beyond reproach or impeachment. Then, without warning, he confesses to it all. Turns himself over to the authorities. Demands he be arrested and made to pay for his crimes." The boy unsnaps the briefcase and opens it, withdrawing a pencil, a pad of paper, and a tape recorder. "One might say you had a complete and sudden change of heart."

"Who are you?" Kamoshida asks, his voice a quiet whimper.

"Unimportant." The boy pulls out one of the chairs previously occupied by the detectives and sits. "My name doesn't matter to you, though it's not as if it's a secret. Soon enough, you'll be prosecuted and jailed. Your name will tarnish headlines, and you'll be the talk of Tokyo for a week, perhaps two. Then you'll vanish. Forgotten. Just like everyone else." He holds up a solitary, black-gloved finger. "But, before all that happens, Suguru Kamoshida, I need you to relate every detail of the past, let's say… six months, to me. I want to know who you spoke to and what you said to them. I want to know who you touched, raped, and hurt. And then I want you to tell me again. And then again, and then again, until you are sure that you have left nothing out."

"Why?"

"Questions don't become you. Do yourself one last favor and do what I tell you."

Their eyes meet until Kamoshida can no longer hold the gaze. "Okay," he mumbles. "I'll tell you everything."

Goro Akechi smirks. It is an awful thing to behold.

He presses the appropriate button on the tape recorder.