5/18

Ohya's phone rings.

Her mouth tastes of ash, and a horse bucks about in her skull. Her limbs ache.

Ohya's phone continues to ring.

She groans as she rolls over and manages to snatch up her phone just before it vibrates off the nightstand and onto the filthy, blue carpet.

"What?" She moans as she answers it.

"It's me," comes a voice.

Ohya throws an arm over her eyes to shield herself from the light sneaking in through the shades. "Oh my god. Whoever this is better start making sense, or I'm hanging this shit up!"

There's a pause on the other line. Then, "I know who Yusuke Kitagawa is."

Ohya wrestles the horse in her brain under control and forces herself to think. It's that kid from the bar. The one who thinks he's slick.

"So," she says. "Who is he?"

"Madarame's apprentice."

"Don't get excited," Ohya mutters. "That was an easy one. What else?"

"What'd you mean?"

Ohya rolls onto her stomach and buries her face in her pillow. "Kid," she shouts. "I'm not your teacher. This isn't a test. What did you get out of Yusuke Kitagawa?"

"I... uh-"

"You got nothing. Wow. Amazing. Incredible work."

"I thought you wanted me to figure out who he was?"

"Yes! But you weren't supposed to stop there. You were supposed to dig something up on your own. That's why I gave you the lead in the first place."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Ohya replies, then sighs. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's a little after nine."

"Why the hell are you calling me so early?"

"I mean, it's not that early."

"Kids," Ohya grumbles and pushes herself out of bed. Then, dressed only in her t-shirt and underwear, she schleps her way through her overheated apartment to the bathroom, where she promptly turns on the water, waits for it to get cold, then splashes some on her face before she sticks her mouth beneath the faucet and takes a long gulp. "Is there any other reason you called me?" She asks once done.

"I..." The kid says, and Ohya feels that rather than having nothing, he's debating whether he should hold something back.

"Spill it," she growls.

"I got invited to Madarame's gallery showing," he spits.

Ohya looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. An unfortunately familiar face returns her stare. "How'd you manage that?"

"Yusuke Kitagawa invited me."

"So, you didn't just find out who he was. You actually met him?" This kid may not be so bad after all.

"That's right."

"That's... good. That's really good." Coffee. I need coffee. Ohya can come up with something. She knows she can. She just has to have that caffeine kick. "Listen up. I'll reach out to you soon. Just be ready. You may just prove valuable after all."

"Wait, you don't have my-" The kid starts to say, but Ohya hangs up.

Ohya smiles down at the now silent phone in her hand. "Don't you worry about that, kid."

#

Makoto climbs the stairs to the roof, doing her best to keep her heart rate under control.

Akira's text had taken her by surprise.

AKIRA: We need to talk. Meet me on the roof.

Makoto may not have been the most experienced girl regarding relationships, but she knew that the phrase 'we need to talk' held implications on an international scale. None were good.

Of course, it wasn't as if she didn't expect backlash. Makoto's intrusion into Shiho Suzui's recovery was borderline criminal.

She knew what she'd done was wrong, but Akira had thrown the gauntlet first by giving her the cold shoulder. This all ends now. One way or another, Makoto would come clean, and hopefully, Akira would too. Then they could find some way to put all this behind them. Makoto wouldn't accept anything less.

She barely hesitates when she reaches the door and pushes it open to a sunny day that does not align with the muckiness inside herself. Akira stands on the roof, only a short distance from the A/C unit. His eyes snap to her as she steps out onto the roof, from behind those glasses she knows are fake.

Neither says anything. Makoto steels herself as best she can and closes the distance between the two of them.

Akira looks at her, then away, sighs, and looks back at her.

"How is Suzui?" Makoto asks.

"Not great," Akira answers. "She called Ann. Ann called Ryuji and me. We went to the hospital. Only Ann talked to her. I don't think she was in a good place to entertain many visitors."

"I will find some way to make it up to her. I'm very-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Akira replies. "I don't think you should do anything regarding Shiho. Just leave her alone."

"D-did she say anything? About why I was there? I tried to-"

Akira interrupts her again. "Why don't we just get right to it?" Makoto straightens and doesn't reply. Akira nods at this and continues. "Given everything that's happened, I think we should keep our distance." He clears his throat and glances away. "What I mean is, I think we should stop hanging out. Study sessions and everything else."

Makoto lifts one hand into the air but cannot remember the gesture she meant to convey and just lets it drop to her side. "Akira, I think... I think everything just spiraled out of control. I'm sorry for what I did to Suzui. I am, you have to know that, right? But everything that came before, it... I just-"

Akira shrugs his shoulders. "A year ago, if we'd met, I'd bet there'd be no problems. Of course, I don't think there's any way we'd have interacted, but still." He holds up his hand, making a small pinching motion with his thumb and index finger. "I'm this close to getting thrown back into jail. And I can promise you one thing, Makoto. I'm not going back. Ever. But people with a past like mine don't have much choice."

"You told me what happened," Makoto says. "You didn't do anything wrong. You don't deserve to-"

"God," Akira snaps. "Do you still not get it? It's not about what I deserve. It has never been. It's about what some file in some room in some office somewhere says. And some people in that office could, on a whim, decide my second chance is up. People like your sister."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Makoto shakes her head. "Sae would never do something like that. She's-"

"Oh, bullshit," Akira replies, almost sounding amused. "She made it very clear to me that I’m to stay away from you. You've got a future, and I don't. Very simple."

"You can't," Makoto starts, and feels her fists clenching. "You don't know her. You don't know what she's had to endure. To put up with. And she's had to do it all on her own." Makoto feels something welling up inside her, and she narrows her eyes. "Do you know how hard my sister had to fight to get where she is? Don't you dare look down on her!"

"Look down on her?" Akira asks. He shakes his head. "I'm not looking down on her. I'm afraid of her. I'm afraid of what she could do to me. So, she worked hard and dealt with a lot? Okay, fine. I guess all that hard work has paid off. Because do you have any idea how easily she could end my life?"

#

The voices in Akira’s mind swirl around each other. Joker’s voice. His father’s voice. Arsene screams within Akira. Akira knows what each tries to say.

“Bury thisGO FORTH AND BE DONEtoo long already let itSTOP THIS CHARADEthe prosecutor could nail us for this much son it is too long END IT”

For all this hurts, part of Akira congratulates himself on being able to keep together. To restrain the desperate desire to reach out and take Makoto’s hands and tell her all is forgiven and that he is a Phantom Thief, and would she be his girlfriend? But he does not. The world ticks on, and Akira stares at Makoto as if expecting an answer to his question, but he doesn’t. Makoto must know her sister’s capabilities, and if not, then maybe Makoto isn’t as bright as she seems.

“I’ve had my suspicions,” Makoto says. “Since the day you changed Takanashi’s heart. That study session. But you know that. I followed you. I followed your friends. I don’t know why. I think, in some ways, I wanted to get close to you.” Makoto lifts a hand and makes a small gesture, indicating the distance between herself and Akira. “I don’t know how to do this whole thing, Akira. I’ve never even really had that many friends. It’s just been my sister and I for years now, and being with you was so damn confusing.” She sighs. “Then, the Principal called me into his office. He told me to spy on you. He showed me some folder, and my name was in it, and so was yours’ and Ryuji’s and Ann’s and Suzui’s. He wanted me to spy on you, or he was going to withhold my Letter of Recommendation. I told Sae, and that’s why she was at the school. She set the Principal straight. I have no idea how the Principal got that information on you or if he suspects you and your friends for reasons other than the ones he gave me, but Akira, I never betrayed you. I agreed so I could get out of that office and devise a plan. I tried to talk to you immediately, but you ignored me. Did you bug his office or something? Is that how you found out so fast?” Makoto takes a step forward, but Akira doesn’t move. “I promise you, Akira. I’m on your side. I’ve always been on your side. Since Kamoshida. Before Kamoshida. Please believe me. If you’re a Phantom Thief, that’s fine, but please, don’t just throw all of this away. Talk to me. Let’s figure this out.”

Akira nods. That more or less lines up with what we suspected. Akira takes a deep breath, and Makoto watches him, imploringly. As he lets the air out of his chest, Akira sticks his hands in his pockets and slumps a bit. “For the last time, Niijima-senpai. I’m not a Phantom Thief. Goodbye.” Then, he turns and moves towards the door. Makoto makes no reply beyond the slight hitch in her breathing Akira assumes he is not meant to hear. Then, Akira is through the door and heading downstairs. As he descends, he increases his pace. He wants to put distance between the two of them.

This is for the best, Akira thinks.

Indeed, Joker replies.

There’s too much going on: Madarame, the mental shutdowns, Igor, the Velvet Room, and the Metaverse.

ALL SACRELIGIOUS ACTS, Arsene’s voice booms, and Akira nearly trips on the stairs as he reaches the ground floor. Akira puts a hand to his temple and rubs it, shutting his eyes.

“Akira?” Comes a voice.

Akira opens his eyes and finds Mishima standing before him, a worried look on the young boy’s face. “Oh, hi,” Akira replies.

“You okay?” Mishima asks. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because if you’re not you-”

“I said I’m fine,” Akira snaps. Mishima shrinks away from him.

Akira feels a deep loathing rise within. Mishima, always the coward, always slinking off like a whipped dog. Mishima, useless save for his technical expertise and-

Akira blinks. Takes a deep breath. Slows his thoughts down. At that moment, he regards Yuuki Mishima. The boy tormented and brutalized by his coach, whose parents did nothing. The unnoticed boy who did stand up to Kamoshida at the end, in his little way. The one who’s been supporting the Phantom Thieves. Were it not for the PhanSite, Morgana may have no way of recovering his memories.

Yuuki Mishima, just a kid. A terrified kid. Like me.

Akira opens his mouth, “Hey, Mishima. Sorry about that. Bad day.”

Mishima straightens a bit. “I-it’s no problem.”

“No, I was a dick just now. Sorry.”

Mishima brightens a bit.

What is this shit? His father asks. Absolution? Trying to make yourself feel better for lying to the boy? For using him? Are you just going to forget what he did?

Akira does not forgive Yuuki Mishima. But he comes very close. “Hey man,” Akira says. “Want to go get some food?”

Mishima smiles. “Sure!”

#

Ryuji finds Ann outside the ramen shop. “Hey, thanks for meeting me,” he calls to her.

“Mmhmm,” Ann mutters, nodding at her friend. Ryuji bites back a retort and instead ushers her further down the street. The two walk in silence for a time, with Ryuji checking their surroundings periodically to see if anyone follows. Of course, no one does, though Ryuji admits that he may not be the most insightful person to tell if they’re tailed. Ann should also be keeping watch, but she’s too busy sulking. Not that Ryuji can’t understand, but still.

Sometimes it was a pain in the ass, being the only serious member of the Phantom Thieves.

“I got a little more info on that Yamaguchi,” Ryuji finally says, confident they are in a bubble of privacy.

“Huh?” Ann asks, finally coming out of whatever trance she’d been within. “Who?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “You know, Yamaguchi. The guy Ikeda-senpai was talking about.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ann replies. “Sure.”

“C’mon,” Ryuji complains. “Would you take this seriously? This guy could really eff up the track team if we-”

“Ryuji, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve got some other things on my mind,” Ann replies.

Ryuji raises his hands. “Okay, I get that. Shiho and the Prez, whatever happened there-”

“Whatever happened there?” Ann demands.

Shit, Ryuji thinks. I shouldn’t have brought that up. “Sorry. I understand. It’s a big deal. But this whole thing we’ve got going with-”

“I can’t bring myself to care about the track team, Ryuji,” Ann mutters. She fixes him with a stare. “And why do you care, anyway? It’s not like you’re joining, are you?”

Ryuji shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Then why bother with it? They all turned their backs on you, didn’t they? They all call you ‘track traitor’ or whatever. So why should you care about what happens to them or their track team?”

Ryuji had pondered that himself. “I dunno,” he replies, shrugging. “But the track team used to be important to me. Maybe it still is.”

“We almost got exposed as the Phantom Thieves,” Ann whispers. “You were freaking out not too long ago. Now, you’re suddenly up in arms about the track team?”

“I’m not saying I’m not still freaking out,” Ryuji says. “But Akira is handling the whole Makoto situation.”

Ann sticks out her tongue. “Oh yeah, finally. After we had to twist his arm.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. He’s getting tired of this dynamic. “Don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet with Akira? You can’t blame a guy for being into someone. Not like he picked her at random or something.”

Ann glares at Ryuji, shakes her head, and starts to storm off. “You just don’t get it,” she shouts over her shoulder, causing other pedestrians to turn their gazes towards him. Ryuji hears a few chuckles from the crowd but ignores them.

He watches Ann go, then sighs. “Great,” he says to himself. “Looks like I gotta fix everything. Again.”

#

Makoto slams her fist into the punching bag and imagines it is Akira Kurusu's face.

She had forgotten how good this feels.

Haru's response had been uncompromising. "I will obliterate him." Haru had offered - after school - what Makoto imagined were the proper condolences and suggested they meet up and eat something terrible for them, like ice cream or candy, but Makoto had just wanted to go home.

Haru had started to defend Makoto's actions leading up to this predicament, but Makoto noted that she gave up about halfway through. Makoto couldn't blame her and even felt a twinge of gratitude. There was little in the way of excuses she could offer, especially when it came to Suzui.

Akira's words about Sae bounced around in Makoto's head, and found more purchase than none. Makoto hated, hated, how true it all sounded. Even as she denied Akira's accusations regarding her sister, another part of her hummed with doubt. "Do you really think she wouldn't?" A voice rumbled within her.

Of course not! She declared to her mind, but she knew she was only arguing with herself, so it wasn't as if she didn't think that.

Akira's words had stung, and once Makoto had returned home, she'd found that the tears had come readily. The frustrations of the past few days boiled over and rang out in the empty apartment, which offered very little solace.

But now?

She was done with tears.

And so she used her fists.

She throws a haymaker against the bag and takes a deep breath.

There was no way Akira Kurusu wasn't a Phantom Thief.

Too many coincidences. Too many parallels. Hell, even the Principal seemed convinced he was one. Akira continued to lie even after Makoto had come clean.

THE AUDACITY

Deep down, Makoto knows she could stand to examine her actions during this time frame, but during this time frame, she is content to beat the shit out of this punching bag located in the basement gym of her apartment building.

An older man, one of her unfortunate neighbors from upstairs, walks past the mat she works on and calls, "C'mon sweetie, don't look so glum. Can I get a smile?"

Makoto feels an engine rev inside her chest, and she turns a snarl on the man. "Back off!"

He pales in a considerably appealing manner and scurries away.

Makoto turns her attention back to the bag and lets her mind go blank as she attacks it. But as her mind never completely blanks, her subconscious continues her preparations.

When she finishes, and after she's showered, she takes out her phone and calls Haru.

"So," Haru asks, unprompted upon picking up, "What's the plan?"