Chains and a soft, lilting moan some distance away.

Akira opens his eyes and rises off the cot, making his way to the cell’s door. The distorted figure at the desk smiles wickedly and spreads its talon hands. “Trickster,” Igor drawls. “Welcome back to the Velvet Room. It has been some time, but congratulations are in order over your new member.”

Akira files that little nugget away and nods in response. “Igor. Thank you for seeing me.”

Igor merely shrugs or does something that approximates a shrug. “As I have stated before, I am at your disposal. You may make use of my services as often as you like.”

“Thank you,” Akira says. “You know about our new member, and there’s another Palace we need to infiltrate. So, I’d like to merge Personae.”

“Of course,” Igor replies. He tilts his head to the side and turns so that only one of his bulging eyes faces Akira. Akira does his best to keep his face neutral. “But before all that, I believe you have some questions you wish to ask.”

In the shadows of the Velvet Room – because there are no corners here – Akira detects the subtle movements of the wardens, their bulk hidden from his senses, but the intensity of their attention coats him like oil.

“If that’s alright,” Akira attempts.

“By all means,” Igor whispers.

“I’d like to know how Palaces work,” Akira says. “Kamoshida’s Palace was the school. A single location. But Madarame’s Palace is a network of multiple points, all connected to a central location. But those points have no relationship in the real world. How’s that possible?”

Igor chuckles. “You answered that yourself, or do you not see? True, your first target perceived his influence to extend over the single, physical building in the real world. Thus, his Palace remained fixed to that point. But, your more elusive, slippery second intended victim holds sway over, as you put it, a network of points.”

“So it all comes back to cognition?” Akira asks. “Because of how Madarame views the houses where he keeps his apprentices? Different locations, but all with the same purpose.”

The Factory. Igor’s nod is subtle but there. It’s not a one-to-one thing, then. Depending on the cognition, a Palace could contain almost anything. A neighborhood, even a city.

“Then, there aren’t any rules,” Akira continues. “Or am I wrong? If a Palace can be anything, consist of anything, and it depends upon the ruler’s perception and cognition, then there’s no way to understand how a Palace will work until we find its entrance, is there?”

“It would be too much to say there are ‘no rules,’” Igor permits. “But limitations upon Palaces are imposed by the limitations only within the mind of their creators.”

Something about what Igor has said bothers Akira, but he cannot specify what. Regardless, there are other things he must ask, and if Igor is in a chatty mood, Akira will seize the opportunity.

“Are the mental shutdowns related to the Metaverse?” Akira asks.

Something shifts and approaches Akira’s cell. He cannot see it but feels it and recoils before an invisible something crashes against the bars, and a voice deep and acrid spits out, “YOUPRESUMETOASKTOOMUCHINMATEWHOAREYOUTODEMANDSUCH-”

“Enough,” Igor hisses. The thing that is Caroline retreats from Akira’s presence, and he could swear he hears something akin to a whimper in the air. “Forgive the wardens, Trickster. I am happy to answer your inquiries, though I would beg a similar indulgence once you’re satisfied.”

I don’t think I could ever ask you enough questions about how all this works, Akira thinks, but he waves his hands and says, “It’s fine,” and then, “Of course.”

“Again, you ask a question you may solve yourself. The world of Mementos and Palaces and Shadows has consequences for the real world. You steal the Treasure, the Palace collapses, and your foe confesses. Is that not how it works?”

That is how it works, Akira thinks. But again, the weird bastard stick man thing wasn’t giving him any solid answers. What did ‘consequences’ mean in this capacity? There was an obvious follow-up question if something happened in the Metaverse that caused a mental shutdown.

“You allowed me to access the Metaverse via the app on my phone. Whenever I use my phone to bring someone else into the Metaverse, they gain that same ability. Have you given that ability to anyone else?”

Igor’s smile grows. “My dear Trickster, you know everyone who has access to the Metaverse.”

Myself. Ryuji. Ann. Yusuke. Morgana. There were only five people who had that access. The Phantom Thieves weren’t causing the mental shutdowns, and the mental shutdowns had begun before Akira had met Igor. How were the shutdowns triggered, then? Again, something about Igor’s answer bothered Akira, but with the continued gaze of Caroline and Justine on him, he found it difficult to concentrate. Five people. But then again-

“Permit me a question, now, Trickster,” Igor says.

Fortunately, before Akira had drifted off to sleep, he’d rehearsed this moment mentally. He knew what Igor would ask.

“When last we met, you asked me to tell you about someone. Someone named ‘Morgana,’ I believe. What did you mean by this?”

“It was a Shadow,” Akira answers. “When I was in Kamoshida’s Palace. There was a Shadow that called itself ‘Morgana.’ Shadows don’t typically do this, so I was curious. That’s why I asked.” Akira shrugs. “I saw a lot of new Shadows in Madarame’s Palace, but I only ever saw the Morgana Shadow once. So I wanted to know if you could tell me more about it.”

Igor is silent for a time, and Akira wonders if the lie failed. He tries to keep his thoughts steady as he does not know how much Igor can read him. If Igor did not know about Morgana, what did that mean? How did Igor think the Phantom Thieves learned the rules of the Metaverse? How had they found Madarame’s Palace? Mementos? What did Igor know, and what did Igor not know?

“I see,” Igor whispers. “I am afraid that the Shadows' workings are beyond my understanding. I can interact and explain only when they become a part of you and turn into Personae.”

“Understood,” Akira replies and nods. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“It was a pleasure,” Igor says. “Shall we commence with the merging of the Personae?”

“Yes, please,” Akira says.

The two do not interact for the next few minutes, except when Akira summons a Persona to merge. When this is complete, he exits the Velvet Room with little fanfare.

#

The Velvet Room is silent.

Igor sits at his desk, staring at the spot previously inhabited by the Wild Card.

“Girls,” he growls out. The attention of the wardens becomes fixed upon him. “I have a task for you.”

#

5/25

“So then, everyone was like, ‘Oh no, what do we do?’”

“A dire situation, indeed.”

“Right, but then I was like, ‘Never fear! Mona’s here!’ And I leaped off the chandelier. Remember how I told you I snuck up to the chandelier?”

“Of course. A harrowing bit of exposition.”

“Exactly. So, I’m up there, leap off, and BOOM. I knock the crown right off Kamoshida’s head.”

“I see.”

“And then Kamoshida was like, ‘No! No! My crown! My Treasure! Blargh! Blurg! Argh!’ and Lady Ann was like, ‘You’re a hero, Mona!’ and I was like, ‘Thanks, no big deal,’ because I’m humble and all.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And Akira said something cool, but I couldn’t hear him because Ryuji was like, ‘Blehblehbleh,’ or something, so I missed it.”

“That does sound like something he would say.”

“Right? Then Lady Ann had Carmen shoot some fireballs at Kamoshida a few times, and the Palace collapsed. And that’s how we stopped Kamoshida.”

Yusuke nods. “What a story, Morgana.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

The two cross the street. “I am a bit unclear why Ann complimented your heroics so many times. I would think once would be enough.”

Morgana bobs his head in his approximation of a shrug. “What can I say? I’m pretty great. Lady Ann’s an exceptional… lady. She sees this greatness in me.” Morgana’s smile fades a bit. “But, uh, don’t tell her I told you all this. It’d probably just embarrass her, you know?”

“Ah,” Yusuke replies. “That makes sense. Do not worry, Morgana.” His eyes sparkle. “I will not let this cat out of the bag.”

Morgana doesn’t reply.

Yusuke stops walking and stares down at him. “Did you hear me, Morgana? I said I would not let the cat out of the bag.”

Morgana doesn’t reply.

“Morgana? Do you understand? Cat and bag, yes?”

“I get it!” Morgana blurts out. “Are you done?”

Yusuke chuckles to himself and nods. “Quite.”

As it was Wednesday, and Akira needed to attend school, Morgana had been assigned the all-day task of bringing Yusuke ‘up to speed’ on the Phantom Thieves and their activities.

Though not fully expelled yet, Yusuke had opted not to return to Kosei High. No doubt, the lie of his plagiarism had circulated among the staff – possibly even the students – and he did not think himself up to dealing with their ire.

He’d eaten breakfast alongside Akira at LeBlanc, again expressing gratitude to Sojiro, who had shrugged – stoically and shoveled more curry onto this plate.

Akira had advised Yusuke to ‘take it easy,’ but Yusuke felt antsy before too long. His days had always been regimented. Wake. Practice. School. Practice. Sleep. Wake. Practice. School. Practice. Sleep. Food, occasionally.

That he now had hours to kill made him uncomfortable.

Therefore, he’d insisted to Morgana that they revisit the atelier, if only for Yusuke to test out using the Navigation app on his phone. The extended stroll down to his former home allowed the cat to explain everything to him.

When they arrived at the Palace site, however, they were alarmed to discover that it was no longer there. Instead, the main entrance for Madarame’s Factory had been replaced with another locked façade, identical to the ones Morgana had first spotted during his follow-up investigation with Ryuji.

Panic had set in, as Morgana couldn’t understand how this was possible. Finally, Yusuke pointed out that, per Morgana’s logic, the Palace was still present, just moved. Therefore, they had decided to trek through the previously identified homes of the apprentices, hoping that one now held the main entrance to the Palace.

According to Morgana, the next nearest in age to Yusuke was a pissy teenager that had yelled at Akira and Ohya. They found this one’s home quickly, as it had been Yusuke’s old primary residence before he’d lived in the atelier. A quick test of the app revealed that this building now housed the primary entrance to Madarame’s Palace.

“Maybe the Palace switches to whoever is the next in line of being apprentice,” Morgana suggests. “If this kid gets moved to the atelier, I bet the Palace would move with him.”

“Then wouldn’t that mean the Palace is contingent upon the person rather than the location?” Yusuke asks. To this, Morgana has no explanation.

Once that had been established, Yusuke had set himself upon another course of action and informed Morgana.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Morgana asks.

“Yes,” Yusuke whispers, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

The truth is, he doesn’t know. Seeing his old house brought up many new and conflicting emotions within him. The tired old house with its two stories, disgusting shutters, and splotchy paint job. He used to have such warm feelings for it. Now, it sickens him.

“But you only found out about the Metaverse yesterday. Akira’s right. You should take it easy.”

Yusuke approaches the property’s limits. “Please, wait here, Morgana.”

The cat sighs. “Sure. But if this causes the Palace to jump again, finding it will be a pain.”

Yusuke walks across the street and up to the window. He has no plan. No real idea of what he’s doing here. But then, through the dirty window, he sees a familiar face.

It must be the boy Akira and Ohya encountered, but it is someone else entirely to Yusuke.

It is the boy he’d seen manning the conveyor belt—the boy crafting the terrifying and beautiful landscapes.

Another of Madarame’s apprentices.

Something rises in him, and he marches to the front door, lifts his fist, intending to knock, then stops. Yusuke lowers his hand.

Yusuke stands there for a long time.

Then, he turns around and walks back to Morgana. “Let’s go.”

Morgana keeps pace with him down the street. “I thought you would barge in there and tell him about Madarame.”

“I nearly did.”

“So, why didn’t you?”

Yusuke shrugs. “You all told me about Madarame, and I didn’t believe you. So why would that young man be any different? I only became convinced after entering the Metaverse.” Yusuke looks back down the street at the house. “And I will not subject that young man to such horrors. I won’t make life more difficult for him. It will be more than hard, soon enough.”

“What’d you mean?” Morgana asks.

Yusuke’s hands curl into fists. “We will change Madarame’s heart and free this boy and all the others from his corruption. But what will we be freeing them into?” He sighs, shakes his head, and unclenches his hands. “But that is an issue for another day. Besides, you said it yourself, were I to inform this boy of Madarame’s true motives, it might cause the Palace to change locations again. Better to keep it secure in one spot.

“Now, come. Tell me of this ‘Mementos’ place.”

“Well, that’s a little complicated,” the cat replies. “Have I told you that I can turn into a bus?”

“You most certainly have not.”

#

“Come on.” Ohya’s voice bounces out of the burner’s earpiece.

“No,” Akira replies as he scrolls through the latest onslaught of texts from Takemi on his regular phone. “I can’t.”

TAKEMI: WHERE IS KITAGAWA? CALL ME

TAKEMI: NOW

TAKEMI: AS IN, NOW!

“Oh please,” Ohya mutters. “What could you be doing that’s so important?”

“School just got out, and I’ve got something going on,” Akira tells her as he types out his response.

AKIRA: I’m bringing him over. He’s fine.

“I’m a student, remember? I can’t go traipsing around town with you every day,” Akira says.

“Did you just say ‘traipsing?’” Ohya asks, her voice flat.

“So?” Akira asks. “That’s a thing I say.”

“That’s a thing no one says.”

The truth was that Akira enjoyed spending time with Ohya, despite her infuriating capacity. But Akira had what he needed from Ohya. The Phantom Thieves knew where the Palace was. All that remained was infiltration, leaving a Calling Card, and stealing Madarame’s Treasure. Akira didn’t need Ohya for that.

Akira sighs.

“Am I boring you?” Ohya asks.

“No, no,” Akira says, as he gets off the train at Yongen-jaya. “But look, I can’t today, okay? I’ve got a study session I need to get to.”

“A study session? Seriously?”

“I’m a student,” Akira blurts out. “I study.”

Silence from Ohya.

Then, Ohya sighs. “Fine,” she says and hangs up on him.

Akira exhales, slides both devices back into his pocket, and leans his head against the concrete wall of the train station. I need an assistant or something.

Akira chuckles and exits the train station, where he spies a familiar duo. Yusuke lifts his hand in greeting, and Morgana – from where he sits perched on Yusuke’s shoulder – offers a paw.

“We’ve got something to tell you,” Morgana says, as soon as Akira approaches.

Yusuke and Morgana proceed to tell Akira about the Palace situation. Akira squeezes his eyes shut and lets his brain run over the issue, but when he reopens them, he shrugs. “Okay, that’s a surprise. Still, it shouldn’t be an issue. We know where the Palace is. Let’s hope that it doesn’t switch again. But even if it does, we should be able to find it.”

“Yeah, but what if it switches after we send the Calling Card?” Morgana asks.

Akira opens his mouth, shuts it, and then shrugs once more. “What if it does? We go find it and steal the Treasure.” I sure as hell hope that’s not what happens.

“Morgana and I were thinking,” Yusuke says as the three turn and head down the block. “Seeing as I have been rendered homeless and my schooling is on hold, perhaps it would be best to spend my days keeping track of the Palace’s whereabouts.” Now it was Yusuke’s turn to shrug. “It is not as if I have other pressing concerns.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Akira replies. “Though I’m not sure I like the idea of you hanging out in the Metaverse for hours with no backup. Morgana, you go with him. Or at least, switch out with him.

“My guess is that Takemi will want you to take care of yourself, though.”

“Mmm,” Yusuke replies, nodding.

Akira hadn’t lied to the doctor earlier. He had every intention of taking Yusuke back to Takemi’s. It wasn’t so much a question of whether or not Yusuke was malnourished but of how. Yusuke’s collapse at the batting cages had been evidence enough. And while the Metaverse amplified Yusuke’s strength, nothing times nothing typically worked out to be nothing, so Akira wants to make sure Yusuke is on some recovery plan.

Ryuji wanted to be part of the process and immediately began to factor the new guy into his workout plans.

That reminds me, Akira thinks, as they near Takemi’s clinic. I’ll need to ask Ryuji about that whole track team situation.

When they enter Takemi’s office, and Takemi sees them, she bolts out of her seat and shoves her way past them to lock the door and throw a ‘Closed’ sign in the window.

Takemi whirls on Akira. “Did you tell him to leave?”

“Huh?” Akira asks.

“Did you convince Kitagawa to leave my office? I know you weren’t too keen on my calling the police, but-”

“No!” Akira replies.

“Kurusu, don’t you-”

Yusuke clears his throat. Takemi’s glare shifts to him. “Forgive me, Plague.” Takemi blinks. “But Akira had nothing to do with my escape. I walked out.” Yusuke shakes his head. “Really, your security is quite lax for an honorary member of the Phantom Thieves.”

“You walked out?” Takemi asks, and then rubs her temples with her fingers. “Wait, hold on. Did you say ‘Phantom Thieves?’”

“Yeah, so, there’s been some changes since we last saw you,” Akira says.

Between Akira and Yusuke, it takes several minutes to update Takemi. About halfway through, she motions for them to walk into the waiting room as she collapses on one of the chairs.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You’ve been expelled?” Takemi asks.

“Indeed, though the process has not been finalized. I am most certainly not attending any classes.”

“But, how did they know?” Takemi asks.

“We think Madarame has a source of information inside the police. Yusuke hadn’t done anything to raise Madarame’s suspicions.”

Takemi sinks a little lower in her chair. “So, because I called the police, you got thrown out of your home and expelled from school?”

Yusuke waves his hands through the air. “Do not fret. Had it not happened now, it would’ve happened later. Without this prompt, I would never have been inducted into the Phantom Thieves nor accepted Madarame-sensei as he truly is.” He provides Takemi with a bow. “Thank you for contacting the authorities on my behalf, though it did not turn out how you had hoped.”

“You couldn’t have known how this would play out,” Akira says. He keeps his face neutral. But inside, his voices swarm and buzz.

But didn’t I say something like this would happen?

We told her. We told her nothing good would come of her calling the cops. And look what happened.

Now Plague knows what happens when you put too much trust in the authorities.

Takemi and Yusuke continue to speak to one another, but Akira zones out to calm his mind. Nothing can be gained by mentally rubbing this in or taking a celebratory lap inside his head. Takemi had wanted to help Yusuke after all. She had just gone about it in the wrong way.

But Akira had warned her.

Yusuke agrees to a follow-up check-up after apologizing once more for evading Takemi. The two soon disappear into one of the exam rooms while Akira and Morgana sit in the waiting area.

“I’ll stick with Yusuke,” Morgana says.

“Hmm?” Akira asks. He had closed his eyes and begun to drift off, but Morgana’s voice startled him back to wakefulness.

“What you said earlier about the Palace? I’ll stick with Yusuke if he’s going to keep an eye on it. No problem.”

“Sure,” Akira replies. “Sounds good. Make sure he gets some food too.”

“Naturally.” Morgana is silent for a few moments, then asks, “Akira, why did you bring Yusuke into the Metaverse?”

“I had a feeling,” Akira says. “I figured someone like Yusuke, living that life for the past thirteen years, would be a candidate for having a Persona, no?”

“Well, sure, but you could say that about almost anyone. Heck, Mishima could awaken a Persona if given the proper push.”

“There’s the fact that Yusuke has no links to Shujin,” Akira points out. “That was a bonus. I know Ryuji wants to handle Requests from Shujin. So having Yusuke might let us do that.”

“Oh,” Morgana says. “Okay. Yeah, that’s a good point.”

Akira nods and says no more. The check-up doesn’t last much longer, and Takemi returns, Yusuke in tow, with instructions Akira more or less expected.

#

Most people think stuttering is the telltale sign of a liar. But, in Ohya’s experience, someone’s lying when their vocabulary inexplicably diversifies.

‘Traipsing’ my ass.

You can’t be stagnant in journalism. You must always be moving and always thinking ahead. If your plan doesn’t pan out, have a backup.

Ohya stares down at her phone and the mirrored history of Akira’s GPS.

Akira had started to turn off his phone, but only occasionally, to mask his movements from her. But that didn’t delete his GPS’s history and didn’t stop Ohya from engaging in the age-old practice of tailing someone. She’d watched Akira protest on the train from a few cars back and then followed him from the Yongen-jaya train station to the medical clinic with two companions. Yusuke Kitagawa, and that black cat.

Folie a deux, Ohya thought, as she watched Yusuke and Akira intently listening to whatever the cat had to say.

Ohya had posted up in an alley during their visit to the medical clinic and used her honed ability of information gathering to do all the research she could on the ‘Takemi Medical Clinic’ in the brief time they were inside.

Once Akira and Yusuke Kitagawa left, Ohya waited a few minutes before approaching the door to the clinic. Let’s see why you spend so much time with ‘The Plague,’ Akira. Ohya jogs up the steps and has only a moment to wonder at the odd vibration from inside before she opens the door and fast, brutal music assaults her ears.

“Ah! Fuck!” She screams, and claps her hands over her ears. It’s a cross between punk and something, but Ohya can’t focus and determine what.

Then the sound cuts and a frustrated voice comes over the ringing din in her ears. “Sorry about that.”

Ohya blinks and looks around. The waiting area is what she expected. Humdrum nothingness. Very nondescript.

The doctor is not.

Tae Takemi sits behind her desk, looking somewhat annoyed. That annoyance gives her an edge of sexiness accentuated by the ridiculous heels and dress she’s somehow pulling off beneath a white lab coat.

Ohya finds herself rattled and Ohya does not like being rattled.

“Can I help you?” Takemi asks.

Ohya sticks a finger in one of her ears and makes a show of it before saying. “Some waiting room music.”

The doctor just blinks, slow and bored. “Mmmhmm.”

Ohya forces herself back to composed and adopts the look of someone the right kind of nervous. “So, uh, I’ve been getting these headaches lately.” She taps her skull with a few of her knuckles. “And they’re not going away.”

Takemi nods, snatches a clipboard off her desk, and hands it out to Ohya. “Fill this out.”

Ohya takes it and reads the attached form. Boilerplate medical information. She takes a pen from the barrier, scribbles nonsense down, and hands it back.

Takemi glances down at it, face inscrutable, and nods towards the door marked ‘Exam Rooms.’ “Head through. I’ll meet you over there.”

A few moments later, Ohya sits on the crinkly paper of an exam table, and Takemi stands alongside her, the clipboard held in a lazy hand, her bangs drooping down into her face.

“When did these headaches start?” Takemi asks.

“They’ve been going on for a while now,” Ohya replies. “A couple of weeks. Since early April, I think.”

Takemi nods along. “Have you changed your diet recently?”

Ohya shakes her head. “No.”

“Do you use drugs or alcohol?”

“No drugs,” Ohya replies. “But I have the occasional drink.”

“How occasional is occasional?”

“Few drinks a week. Never more than one or two per day.”

Takemi hesitates for a moment before she nods and jots something down on the board. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Does anyone?” Ohya retorts.

Takemi shrugs. “I’ll take that as a no. How many hours would you say you get per night.”

“It’s not like I don’t sleep,” Ohya says. “Anywhere between four and six.”

Takemi glances at her. “You know humans are supposed to get seven to eight hours of sleep per night?”

Ohya shrugs. “I’m in a high-pressure job. I can’t just sleep when I want.”

“Then you should consider finding a less stressful job with more consistent hours.”

Ohya smirks. “Says the doctor.”

Takemi sighs, sets the clipboard down, and retrieves an ophthalmoscope from a drawer. “Stare straight ahead,” she says, shining a light into her eyes. It hovers there for a moment, and then she lowers it. She doesn’t step away, however. Instead, Takemi hovers there, just before Ohya’s face. Ohya feels the doctor’s eyes traveling over her skin. It’s a strange feeling and makes her more self-conscious than she’s felt in a long time.

Then, Takemi steps away and reaches out her hands. “Could you take my hands, please?”

Ohya blinks. “What for?”

“Please. Just do it.”

Ohya reaches out and wraps Takemi’s hands in her own.

“Now, squeeze.” Ohya does so. “Thank you.”

Ohya lets her hands drop.

Takemi takes up the clipboard, writes a few more things, and says, “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

Once she’s gone, Ohya lets herself recoup. Okay. So, the rumor is that she sells barely legal prescriptions. If I can get my hands on some, I can probably pivot that around to find out about her connection with Akira. The kid’s a healthy seventeen-year-old. He wouldn’t go to a doctor’s office as often as he does unless it was for a specific reason. And there are plenty of other clinics in the area too. So-

But then Takemi returns, and Ohya pretends she hadn’t been thinking anything.

The doctor’s face is grim, and without saying anything else, she holds out a single card to Ohya. “Here. I think you should take this.”

“Eh?” Ohya asks, and takes it. Her eyes widen when she sees what it says. “What the hell is this?”

Takemi sticks her hands in the coat’s pockets and shrugs. “Based on what you told me, I don’t think your headaches are due to stress. I’m willing to bet they stem from alcoholism.”

Ohya jumps off the table, the paper ruffling as she does so. “So you give me the card for a Substance Abuse Center?”

Takemi nods. “Your eyes are bloodshot. There are burst blood vessels around your sockets and nose. And when you held my hands, I detected a slight tremor. Those are all symptoms of alcohol abuse.” Takemi jabs her eyes toward the card. “I know one of the doctors that work there. We went to Med School together. I could give him a call if you’d like.”

“No! No, no, no!” Ohya says, and with each word, her voice raises an octave. “Where the hell do you get off, giving me a bullshit diagnosis like that?”

Doctor Tae Takemi doesn’t blink. She stares at Ohya, looking sympathetic, looking worried. “Given your lack of healthy sleeping habits, the amount of alcohol you consume is likely having a more detrimental influence over your body than for a normal person your age. I suggest you check this place out sooner rather than later.”

Ohya throws back her head and laughs too loud. “Yeah, right! Like I’d accept medical advice from ‘The Plague!’” The words rush from her before she can even think them through.

Takemi takes a step back, looking shocked at the name, but then she settles down and sighs. Ohya has never heard a more infuriating exhalation of breath. “If you know who I am, why’d you come to me?”

Ohya bites her tongue. She’s said too much. Shit! There’s no way to salvage this situation. “Just get out of my way!” She growls and marches past Takemi and out into the hall.

Takemi follows her at a leisurely pace. “Feel free to come back,” Takemi says, and Ohya glances back to see her lift the clipboard. “Maybe you’ll feel comfortable using your real information next time.”

Ohya briefly considers knocking over the dead dracaena she sees in the waiting room but scowls and stomps her way out.

Goddamn Akira, going to stupid doctors who make stupid assumptions about me. Alcoholism? Please! I’d like to see that bitch try and handle all the bullshit I’ve got going on and not need a drink afterward.

It isn’t until she’s down the block that Ohya remembers she’s still holding the card for the Substance Abuse Center.

#

The Phantom Thieves crouch in the shadows across the street from the Palace. “Damn,” Skull whispers. “They amped up security.”

Joker nods. The entire front of the Palace is swarming with Shadows. Even the light from among the windows they snuck in previously is blotted out by writhing shapes. Joker hates to admit it, but the Palace looks inaccessible.

“We could fight our way in,” Panther offers, but her face falls. “But even with Yusuke’s Goemon, it’d be tough.”

Yusuke clears his throat.

Mona rocks back and forth on his feet. “You know, maybe there’s another way inside. Remember what Yusuke told us about when the Shadows first brought him here?”

Yusuke clears his throat.

“What’cha mean?” Skull asks. “I don’t think we can get in through those furnaces where they were burning all the Yusuke’s. And I don’t really want to try.”

Yusuke clears his throat more abruptly.

Joker finally turns to him. “What is it?”

“I was under the impression,” Yusuke says. “That I had a codename.”

The other Thieves glance at one another, then smile and bow their heads in apology.

“My bad, Fox,” Skull says.

“We’re sorry,” Panther puts in. “And you’re right. We should’ve called you by your name over here, Fox.”

“Quite,” Fox replies, waving off the comments as if they meant nothing. “It is alright. Now then, I believe I know to what Mona refers.” He turns to face the cat. “The other Palace entrances, correct?”

Mona nods. “Bingo.”

The Thieves quickly exit the Metaverse and spend the next half an hour trekking across the city to reach one of Madarame’s other homes. They reenter the Metaverse and find that the façade remains but that security is nonexistent.

“Dude,” Skull shouts and pumps his fist in the air. “This is awesome! We can go in here.”

“But like I said,” Mona says. “We’ve got a small problem. That keycard reader. I can’t pick that.”

“Could we not simply blast the door down?” Fox asks.

Panther shakes her head. “It’s based on cognition, right? I don’t think that would work. Even if we did, security would tighten at all the other entrances. We’d have to one-shot our way to the Treasure and find Safe Rooms along the way.”

“And there’s no guarantee of that,” Joker says, nodding at Panther. “We’d need to find a way to get through those doors without setting off any alarms.”

“How are we supposed to do that without the keycard?” Skull asks.

“The readers on these doors look identical to the ones at Natsuki Storage,” Mona says. “If we got ahold of Madarame’s keycard, we could probably just open them.”

“How the heck are we supposed to get the keycard, though?” Panther asks.

“Indeed. I do not think I have the influence with Madarame I once had. If I were to ask him for it, I believe there is only a slight chance he would hand over the card.” The other Thieves glance at Fox, who meets their gaze levelly. “That was a joke,” he finally says.

“Oh,” Panther replies.

“Well,” Joker says. “Maybe there’s a way we can get the keycard from Madarame without having to steal it outright.” The Phantom Thieves regard him, and Joker outlines the skeleton of the plan he’s formed.

#

“How long?” Sojiro asks from behind the bar.

Akira looks up from his plate, mouth full of food, mind returning from a million miles away. “Hmm?”

Yusuke is in LeBlanc’s bathroom, washing his hands. Sojiro nods towards the shut door. “Bringing home a stray cat is one thing, Akira. But a kid?”

Akira manages to keep his face calm. “His dorm should be ready soon. It won’t be more than another few days.” Provided we can steal Madarame’s Treasure, get him to confess, and nullify Yusuke’s expulsion.

Sojiro doesn’t quite frown. “Yeah, well, if it’s any longer than that, he better start cooking and cleaning around here.”

The door opens, and Yusuke steps out, patting his hands dry on his shirt. “What was that bizarre contraption beside the sink?”

Akira and Sojiro glance at each other. “Are you talking about the hand dryer?” Akira asks.

“Ah, so that’s what it was. It looked rather unseemly. It indicated I was to put my hands inside it, but I certainly did not trust it.”

Sojiro shakes his head and heads into the kitchen nook, grumbling under his breath.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira’s bag as Yusuke sits down. “Boss is getting suspicious. We can’t coast on his goodwill for much longer. We need to find the Treasure and get Yusuke into those dorms at Kosei.”

Yusuke blinks. “If my presence here is causing you stress, I can certainly relocate and-”

“Forget it,” Akira cuts him off. “You’re not sleeping on the street or in some shelter. You’re staying here.” Akira looks over at Sojiro’s back. “We’ll figure it out. And we’ll steal Madarame’s Treasure before it becomes an issue.”

Yusuke smiles and nods, but his face quickly falls again. “I’m afraid I don’t think I’ll be much use in the Metaverse. If what Doctor Takemi said is true, it could take time before I can do… well, anything.”

Akira shakes his head. “We’ll get you a gun. And besides, physical strength is amplified in the Metaverse. So you can still pack a punch.”

Morgana nods. “Yeah, and Goemon’s powerful. Stick with him, build your strength, and you’ll be okay.”

Akira says something in agreement, but his mind is already working on the problem. For his plan to work, he only had one option. Well, two, but Mishima didn’t particularly count. If he struck out with Iwai the next day, they might have to punch their way through the Shadows at the main entrance.

Yusuke finishes his meal and yawns. “Forgive me, my friend. I am afraid I am spent. Permit me to retire upstairs.”

“Yeah,” Akira says. “Knock yourself out. I’ll be up later.”

Morgana lets out a feline yawn and stretches his legs on the table. “I’m gonna head up with him. I’m beat too.” Morgana hops down to the floor and pads after Yusuke. He meows to Sojiro as they pass the kitchen.

“Night,” Sojiro mutters in response.

Akira sits at the bar, an empty bowl of curry before him. Silence is something he appreciates.

The door chimes.

It is late, but Sojiro gets enough lonely, late-night customers that Akira doesn’t look up.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice Akira recognizes but needs a moment to place.

Akira turns and looks at Goro Akechi as the latter steps into LeBlanc.

“Evening,” Sojiro says, exiting the kitchen and drying his hands on a rag. His eyes narrow. “I remember you. You were with Sae, weren’t you?” He sighs and swats the rag down on the hardwood. “Is she right behind you? Come to stick her nose in matters that don’t concern her again?”

Akechi lifts his hands in surrender. “I assure you,” he counters. “My presence here has nothing to do with the Public Prosecutor. She doesn’t know I’m here, and I see no reason to inform her of such.”

“Then why are you here?” Sojiro asks.

“Secondarily, I would like some of the coffee I had last time,” Akechi says. “And primarily, I had hoped to run into your ward.”

“Him?” Sojiro asks, glancing at Akira.

“Me?” Akira asks.

Akechi nods and gestures to the stool next to Akira. “Might I sit?”

“If you’re a customer and nothing else,” Sojiro replies. “Then go right ahead.” Akechi does, and Sojiro takes his order and pours him a cup of coffee. “You good?” Sojiro asks Akira. “Can you take care of things here?”

“I’m fine,” Akira replies. “Thanks.”

“Alright then. Goodnight.” He glances at Akechi. “I’d tell you not to have a party, but this kid doesn’t look like the kind to go to any.”

Akechi smiles at Akira. “Your guardian certainly has a way with words.”

“Tell me about it,” Akira whispers as Sojiro dons his jacket and hat and heads out the door. “So,” he says into the sudden quiet of LeBlanc. “You wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to apologize on behalf of Niijima-san,” Akechi says and bows his head. “The way she spoke to you was unbecoming of someone in her position.”

Akira glances at the clock over the bar. “Pretty late for an apology,” he says.

Akechi smiles and rubs the back of his head. “Ah, well. Unfortunately, my duties and studies did not permit me to drop by earlier. Forgive me.”

Akira shrugs. “All’s forgiven, then.”

“Just like that?” Akechi asks and takes a sip of coffee.

“What’s the difference? Niijima isn’t going to come here and apologize to me. I appreciate you feeling as if you had to, but you didn’t say those things to me. You were just here, and that’s all. You tried calming her down, but that didn’t do much good. So if you want, I’ll forgive you for that.”

Akechi nods a bit, looking unsatisfied. “Yes, I’m afraid I can’t speak for Niijima-san on these matters. She can be lousy with people. Especially people who are getting close to her sister.” Akechi’s brows rise. “Speaking of, are you truly going out with Makoto Niijima? Because if so, I must congratulate you. She’s an idol to many, not just within Shujin.”

“Makoto’s a good person,” Akira says. “She’s a very focused individual. Possibly the most focused individual I’ve ever known. But we’re not dating or anything. It’s not like that.”

Akechi bobs his head. “Ah. Apologies then. I didn’t mean to presume. But, yes, I suppose the life of a Student Council President wouldn’t leave much time for romantic pursuits. Especially at a place like Shujin, what with everything happening there.”

“Sure,” Akira replies. “Shujin can be a crazy place. And I’ve only been there a few months.”

“Is it safe to assume there were no Phantom Thieves at your old school?” Akechi asks.

Akira grins. “That’s a pretty safe bet, yeah.” He glances at Akechi. “Hey, out of curiosity, what does a ‘detective prince’ do, exactly?”

“You’ve looked me up?”

“Well, you showed up at what is basically my house with a Public Prosecutor. I was curious. You’re a student, so why were you with her? It didn’t take long to figure out. You’re a celebrity.”

“Some celebrity,” Akechi mutters. “I mostly review evidence presented to me from various sources within the police departments. It isn’t as if I can arrest anyone myself. I’m still a minor. Essentially, the ‘Detective Prince’ moniker is used to denote a young man or woman pursuing a career in law enforcement who assists the police in deciphering clues or compiling evidence.”

“So, you’re super smart?” Akira asks. “Like Sherlock Holmes?”

“Sherlock Holmes’ deductions were magic,” Akechi replies. “No, I cannot look at someone’s shoes and ascertain where they lived based on the level of grime from the sole up. Likewise, I can’t observe someone’s mannerisms and somehow tell that they murdered their wife in 2007.”

Akira laughs. “That’d be a pretty great ability.”

“And if someone truly could do that, they would be doing that and put people like me out of business. But, no. I’m human, just like everyone else. I make mistakes, just like everyone else. But yes, I am considered a prodigy and have been called to solve several high-profile cases.”

“Wow,” Akira says. “You were selling me on that humble bit there, and then you just went in the opposite direction at the end.”

Akechi spreads his hands out. “What can I say? I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but I am the Detective Prince. A certain pride does come with the role.”

“Have you ever made a mistake?” Akira asks.

“No,” Akechi replies immediately. He reddens a bit. “Though, it isn’t as if I believe I’m incapable of making one. Someday, I’m sure I will.”

“Right,” Akira says. “But see, when I make a mistake, it means I got someone’s order wrong. If you make a mistake, someone could end up in prison for the rest of their life."

“Ah,” Akechi replies. “Then I suppose I don’t have to ask you for your opinion on the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira shrugs. “I don’t have much of an opinion on them.”

“Really?” Akechi asks. “They struck at Shujin. From what I’ve heard, they’re the only thing students at that school can talk about.”

“Not the only thing,” Akira replies. “But sure, they talk about the Phantom Thieves a lot. But just because they talk about it doesn’t mean I do.”

“True. It’s your choice. But you think they were right to expose Suguru Kamoshida?”

“The guy was a scumbag,” Akira replies.

“Yes, he was,” Akechi says. “But I wonder if how they went about ‘stealing his heart’ was the correct way.”

“No one else was doing anything about it,” Akira points out.

“To their knowledge,” Akechi replies. “The wheels of justice may turn slowly, but they do turn.”

“So the Phantom Thieves were… what? Supposed to hope that the police were secretly investigating Kamoshida and would arrest him?”

Akechi spreads his hands. “Nothing so dramatic. I’m simply throwing out alternatives. I am glad that Kamoshida was removed from your school, where he could no longer pose a threat to students, including Makoto.”

Akira gives a noncommittal grunt.

“Would you like to play a game?” Akechi suddenly asks, hefting his briefcase onto the bar. “I don’t get much free time, and when I do, I enjoy engaging in simple board games. But, alas, I do not have many people to play with.”

“It’s getting late,” Akira replies, glancing up at the clock. “But sure, why not?”

Akechi pulls out a gameboard, and Akira’s eyes widen. “Were you expecting chess?” Akechi asks. “Everyone always expects chess.” He lays the Go board on the bar between them. “But I have always preferred this game.”

“I don’t get to play this much either,” Akira says.

“So you are familiar with it, then?” Akechi asks. Akira nods. “What Go is to philosophers and warriors, chess is to merchants and accountants.”

“That’s from Satori, right?” Akira asks. “I read that not so long ago.”

“Did you also read Shibumi?”

Akira nods. “I read them back to back. Fun books. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to read them, though.”

“Nicholai Hel is a personal hero of mine,” Akechi says as he separates the pieces. Himself, white. Akira, black. “Though I doubt I could ever accomplish as much as that man.”

“Spy, cave explorer, assassin, lover?” Akira asks, then nods at the board. “Not to mention Go player. Plus, there’s the fact that he’s fiction.”

“Yes, I feel better about myself when I remember that my idol isn’t real.”

“Sherlock Holmes is too much for you, but Nicholai Hel is your idol?” Akira asks, smirking. “Seems like a contradiction.”

“It’s because of the perception,” Akechi replies. “The cognition. How both have entered the minds of the populace.” He finishes separating the pieces and nods to Akira. “Your move.” Akira places his first piece. “People look at Sherlock Holmes and think that’s how a detective should behave, should deduce. It’s all nonsense. Doyle wrote Sherlock Holmes as a kind of satire on those characters but ended up molding the trope in his image. In contrast, Nicholai Hel is presented as an absurdity. You know he’s an absurdity, but you don’t mind. Nicholai Hel could never be real, and we know that. Sherlock Holmes could never be real, but we all wish he were.”

“Sure,” Akira replies, placing another piece after Akechi’s response. “But how people see the characters are hardly the fault of the characters themselves, right? If Sherlock Holmes was satire, but everyone took him too seriously, that’s not the author’s fault. Not the book’s fault either. The reverse could’ve been true, right? People could’ve latched on to the Nicholai Hel stories, started wishing he were real, and turned their noses up at Sherlock Holmes. Would you be reading the latter instead of the former, then?”

“Hard to say,” Akechi replies. “But I take your point. Have you ever read A Study in Scarlett?” Akira shakes his head. “Well, about halfway through, the story shifts from Baker Street to Utah, America, in the mid-eighteen hundreds, and follows a bunch of Mormons around. After that, I confess, I grew bored. Perhaps that’s colored my general perception of the character and the books all these years.”

Akira frowns. “That does sound boring.”

“There’s a reason that part of the story never gets brought up in all the modern retellings,” Akechi says and moves another piece.

Akira looks down at the board. It does not look good for his position. While the game was amiable enough, it was clear Akechi meant business when it came to winning. His game was relentless, even with the feints and tricks—a pure drive towards victory.

“Would you tell me, then,” Akechi starts, “What you truly think of the Phantom Thieves? I am curious.” He nods toward Akira. “By your earlier defense of them, I imagine you’re a fan?”

Akira shakes his head. “I’m defending their actions towards Kamoshida. I don’t know them personally, and I’m not someone who gets all hyped about the next big fad.”

“Not sure I’d call convincing a rapist to confess to his crimes, a fad,” Akechi says.

“But you know how people are,” Akira replies and places another piece. “Something interesting comes along, and it’s all anyone can talk about. Video games, TV shows, whatever. It’s always the same. No one wants to miss out. At Shujin, it’s the same but multiplied by ten because the Phantom Thieves struck Shujin first. But it isn’t as if people are changed. Well, aside from Kamoshida,” Akira adds with a smile. “People are still jerks, still assholes, happy or good people, or whatever. The people at Shujin who go on and on about the Phantom Thieves just like them because they’re the latest thing.”

“That’s a very mellowed approach,” Akechi says, countering Akira’s move.

“I’m a mellow guy,” Akira replies. “I just want to go to school, see my friends, and come home. I don’t want to get swept up in anything. Least of all, something I don’t understand.”

“Yes,” Akechi says, nodding. “That is alarming, isn’t it? The whole ‘Changing of the Heart?’ How do you think they do it?”

Akira leans back in his seat and considers. “Folie a deux?” He suggests.

“Really?” Akechi responds and bites off a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d say that.”

“You know what that means?”

“I am the ‘Detective Prince.’ Give me some credit. You think it was enough that a Calling Card existed, then?”

Akira shrugs. “Maybe Kamoshida was mentally in such a terrible place that the idea of someone actually exposing his misdeeds drove him to confess.”

“And not, say… blackmail?” Akechi asks.

“Have the police found any evidence of blackmail?” Akira asks.

Akechi grins. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that. Kamoshida’s trial will be a matter of public record soon enough.”

“Well, whatever,” Akira replies. “I honestly don’t know and couldn’t fathom a guess. Maybe they drugged him or something. Or maybe they did blackmail him. Or maybe there are no Phantom Thieves, and it was just some weird stunt that got out of control. It’s not like they’ve done much since Kamoshida.”

“They’ve taken some Requests,” Akechi points out.

Akira shrugs. “Yeah, but who knows if the website is real?” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Next, you’re gonna tell me everything you read on the internet is real.”

Akechi laughs and shakes his head. “Fair enough. I suppose you’re right. The website could be people mooching off the fame of the Phantom Thieves to make themselves the center of attention.”

“That’d be something,” Akira replies, staring into space. “Someone claiming they had a change of heart, who never even got touched by the Phantom Thieves. Make it look like you’ve changed your ways without having actually to do anything.”

“Heavens forbid,” Akechi says, rubbing his temples after placing another piece. “Imagine trying to sift through the real changes of hearts from the fakes?”

“Glad I don’t have your job,” Akira says.

“Oh, believe me, sometimes I wish I didn’t either.”

Akira smirks. “Don’t tell me that when you’ve got legions of fan girls waiting outside TV studios just to get a glimpse of you.”

“Have you ever had legions of fan girls?” Akechi asks, deadpan.

“No,” Akira replies, the idea too outrageous to be embarrassing.

“It gets old.” With that, Akechi moves his last piece, and the game ends. “Seems I’ve claimed victory,” Akechi says, setting his last piece on the board.

Akira leans back on the stool and nods. “Yeah, sure does.”

“I hope that doesn’t spoil your impression of me.”

“I’m not a sore loser if that’s what you mean. It was a fun game.”

“And an excellent conversation,” Akechi says. “I do hope we can continue it at some point.”

Akira nods and bends over to lift his bookbag back onto the bar. He zips it open, intent on retrieving a few of his items now that he imagines himself going to bed.

“Oh my,” Akechi says. Akira glances over at him, and the boy’s face reddens. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s just that I noticed the book in your bag.”

Akira looks down. ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’ stares back at him. “Have you read it?”

“Several times,” Akechi replies. “It’s sure to be considered a classic one day.”

Akira smiles. “I’m not sure if it’s weird or not for the ‘Detective Prince’ to be reading a book about gentlemen thieves.”

“Well,” Akechi says. “Perhaps I’ve got a secret identity of my own, or perhaps my occupation requires that I get inside the mind of people like said ‘gentlemen thieves.’ Which one sounds cooler?”

Akira ponders. “The second one.”

“Then let’s go with that,” Akechi says, as he clicks his briefcase shut. He stands and bows. “Thank you for the coffee, the game, and the conversation. Would you mind if I dropped by again sometime?”

Akira smiles. “No problem. Be warned, though. Boss will probably glare daggers if you don’t order more than a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll bring my appetite with me, then,” Akechi replies, stands, and bows. “Goodnight, Kurusu.”

Akira returns the bow. “So long, Akechi.”