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TUESDAY, JANUARY 10TH, 2017
Afternoon / Café Leblanc
"…Well, I think we oughta team up."
"Mmhmm, me too."
All around the two young women, the other Thieves balk. Ryuji is wide eyed. Ann's mouth hangs open. Yusuke stares intensely in their direction. Ren and Makoto exchange an uneasy look. It is Morgana who speaks first, a pained expression crossing his face as he looks between Haru and Futaba.
"Are you sure?"
Futaba nods. "Dr. Maruki is strong enough to change reality itself. If we're gonna fight him, we're gonna need Akechi's help." She spots Makoto's worried gaze on her. She sees the confliction of pride and concern play out on Ren's face. She ignores them both.
"Plus," Haru adds, the group's eyes all falling to her. She tries to keep her tone measured, but the slightest hint of resentment eeks out regardless. "If he does betray us again, we'll just take him out, too."
Ryuji blinks, before shaking his head. "Well, guess that settles that."
As Makoto begins to speak, Haru leans over to Futaba, whispering.
"May we speak after this?"
The girls' eyes meet. They share the same, dreary look.
"Would Sojiro's work?"
"Yes, that will work well, thank you."
They sit in uncomfortable silence until the meeting ends.
TUESDAY, JANUARY 10TH, 2017
Early Evening / Sojiro Sakura's Living Room
"You sure you don't need anything else?"
Sojiro's voice crackles over the phone in the darkened room. Futaba sprawls herself on the end of the couch. On the auburn coffee table before her, a single, Pink Argus Featherman cup is filled with steaming, hot chocolate.
To her frustration, and Haru's amusement, her legs barely cross over the middle cushion. Haru sits on the other end of the couch, legs folded beneath her. She cradles a white mug of hot chocolate in between her hands.
On the opposite wall, the television is on, but the volume is low.
"Sojiro, it's fiiine! Go, treat the masses to their coffee!"
He sighs on the phone, but the sound is content.
"Fine, fine. But if you or Okumura-san need anything…"
"Sojiroooo--" Futaba starts to groan but catches herself. She leans over towards the phone. Her voice comes out meek. "Actually, can you save me a bowl?"
"Didn't you just eat?"
"Yeah, but that was for my lunch stomach. My dinner stomach hungers yet!"
He sighs again. Haru giggles.
"Would you like some curry, Okumura-san?"
"No thank you, Boss, though I greatly appreciate the off--"
The girls flinch as they hear loud yelling erupt from the phone.
"I’m not saying we should forgive him for his crimes, Makoto!"
"Then what are you saying, Ren? As it stands now, it sounds as though you’re more than willing to bring Akechi back into our team in spite of everything he did to them!”
There is the sound of footsteps creaking against the wooden floorboards. And then nothing.
Futaba, Haru, and Sojiro sit in silence.
"Are they…" Futaba begins, and she is unsure of the word she is looking for. Behind her, Haru only frowns.
"It's a normal thing for couples," Sojiro replies, just a little too quickly. "They're probably making up as we speak."
There is a brief moment the mischievous part of Futaba is tempted to correct that to "making out." And then she plays the words back in her mind.
Everything he did to them.
To them.
She chooses to stay silent.
"In any case, I'll be back by the end of the shift. You two have fun." The call clicks off. Futaba stuffs the phone back into her pocket, and looks to Haru.
"…"
"…"
Both girls turn towards the TV. The news is playing, but neither girl needs to pay attention to know it is the same as the past week. Reports of beautiful weather, heartwarming acts of kindness, strokes of good fortune. The happy little lies that craft fake smiles on the people all around them. It is the way of the world of Maruki's wishes, and the way things would stay until they defeated him.
Even if it meant working with…
"Y-you don't think they were fighting about…us and Akechi…right?" Futaba asks. She tries to emulate Makoto; the warmth, the confidence. But the words are tainted by the notes of anxiety creeping into her voice. She expects Haru to do what Ren or Makoto would; comforting words, a warm hug, all to assure her everything is fine.
"I think they were."
Haru's eyes don't leave the TV. Futaba chances a glance in her direction; there are dark circles underneath the girl's eyes that she has never noticed before. She wonders if they match her own.
"Oh."
Silence.
"I'm sorry Futaba-chan, that was not very consi--"
"No, no, it's fine Haru. Don't worry about it."
Haru winces. She sneaks a glance in Futaba's direction. The girl has her head on the arm of the chair, staring towards the ceiling. In this moment, she wishes she could emulate Makoto or Ann. How the former could easily stand beside their friends and offer compassion so subtly, yet meaningfully. How the latter could sympathize so passionately and lovingly. Haru lowers her head, staring at her lap.
Both girls sigh to themselves.
"You know…," Futaba begins, and Haru raises her head to face her. "After I realized Mom had been murdered, I kept thinking about who could've done it. Why they did it, who they were…" Futaba shakes her head. "But I didn't expect it to be someone my age."
"I understand what you mean," Haru exhaled. "After Father…I found myself thinking much about this murderer too. Before bed, I would often ask myself what could have happened to them to lead to such a gruesome decision."
Futaba sits up and looks at Haru.
"…Akechi said he had been orphaned, right?" She knows the answer, but waits for Haru to nod regardless. "Bounced around place to place."
Haru meets her gaze.
"…Yes. After his mother died. Ren-kun mentioned discussing it in detail with him at one point in time. While he did not explain further, the implications sounded…" Haru trails off.
"…"
"…"
The two girls turn back towards the television.
Both wait, unsure of where to continue the conversation.
Of what the conversation even is, at this point.
To both their surprise, it is Futaba who breaks the silence.
"It hurt, y'know? Seeing Akechi strutting around Niijima's Palace like he actually cared about helping us." She grabs a pillow and clutches it tight to her chest. "Meanwhile, he was just planning to kill Ren and sell us out to the cops." She scoffs. "I wouldn't be surprised if Shido even asked him to kill the rest of us after."
"Not to mention how he kept making those passive-aggressive remarks to Mako-chan," Haru adds, placing her mug on the table. It is more forceful than she intends. "Even though he knew how she felt about Niijima-san. I…never said it to her, but I did worry about the possibility of him…"
Futaba gulps. "Of him…?"
Haru does not answer.
But the implication lingers in the air like gasoline.
"And I know Ren cares about him," Futaba mutters, and her voice cracks as it grows louder. "And Shido was the one that made him into that, and probably threatened him with so much stuff. But…but still…!"
"Futaba-chan…"
Futaba rises to her feet, spinning on her heel to face Haru. There are tears trailing down her face.
"It isn't fair, Haru!"
Futaba wraps her arms around herself, closing her eyes. Before she can open them, Haru's standing in front of her, drawing her into a hug. She can feel Haru's tears splash against the top of her head. It takes everything within her to keep from sobbing out.
"It's not fair that he gets to walk around when Mom..." She feels Haru nod, slowly. The two continue to stand like this, wrapped in each other's arms. In the backs of both their minds, they think back to the last time they could remember being embraced this way.
For Futaba, it the moment before she and her mother stepped out of the door that fateful day. Five minutes before the violent force of the mental shutdown that propelled her mother into the street. Five minutes and thirty-eight seconds before the car barreled into her mother. Six minutes before the squelch of her mother's corpse hitting the pavement, her neck bent in a way that would wake her up in the middle of the night for years to come.
For Haru, it was her tenth birthday. The day before her father would get the call that his business ventures were skyrocketing; before the wandering hands of Sugimura would claw their way onto her hair and neck, always threatening to go lower but making sure not to just keep her fearful; before the corporate meetings she’d be forced to endure while the businessmen discuss her wishes and her existence as an impediment to their pockets.
The girls shake their heads, escaping from the clutch of their memories. Haru and Futaba both take a seat back on the couch. They sit next to each other on the middle seat. Futaba's head touches Haru's shoulder.
Futaba exhales. "I've never told anyone this, but…when we pieced together Akechi was the one behind the mental shutdowns, there was a part of me…that asked why it couldn't have been him in the way of that car instead of my mom." She chuckles darkly. "You must think I'm awful."
Haru shakes her head. "No, I don't Futaba-chan. There was… a time during Shido's Palace. When Akechi was on the ground after one of Joker's attacks. I'm ashamed to admit it, but…there was a thought that crossed my mind." Haru raises her right hand to her face, as though she is reaching for her mask. There is a distant, dark look on her face. "That all I needed to do was lift up my grenade launcher and pull the trigger. A single barrel to sever him from our lives, our loved ones’ lives… forever." She shakes her head, sniffling. Futaba watches everything in Haru's expression droop all at once, and for the first time, sees a glimmer of the Haru behind the mask. Of the teenage girl forced into engagement, then managing a business, and all the years of childhood stolen from her.
"It was a fleeting idea. And truthfully, I knew it was never an option for me. When I formally joined the Phantom Thieves, I informed you all that if I accepted a peace based on the misfortune of others, that I would be no better than my father."
Futaba feels the rise and fall of Haru's chest as the latter takes a sharp breath. "And yet, I still found myself having such a thought…"
"Haru…"
A distant memory comes to mind. Futaba, four years old, crying on the ground, her tricycle upturned beside her. She remembers how her mother shuffled to her side, sitting with her in the grass with her pinky wrapped in Futaba's fingers. She looks at her hand, and then to Haru's. She slowly reaches a shaky hand to Haru's, wrapping a thumb around Haru's and the rest of her fingers in the space between Haru's thumb and index finger. She takes a breath, offering a small squeeze.
Haru feels it and squeezes back. Something in her face shifts. It is small. It is weak. But the smile on Haru's lips greets Futaba nonetheless.
"…What was he like? President Oku-- I-I mean, your dad," Futaba stammers. She leans into Haru's shoulder. "What was he like before all of this?"
Haru takes a breath. "When I was younger, and our company was still operating on a smaller scale, he was happier." She smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "There were many times where, once a month, he would get all the employees and their families together at our home to do a large dinner. He'd introduce me to all the families as the real boss of the company."
"Ooh, Big Boss Haru, huh?"
"It was actually more like 'Captain Haru," she replied. Both girls laughter fills the air.
Haru smiles grows a bit, and she squeezes Futaba's hand. "How about you, Futaba-chan? What was your mother like?"
"Well, Mom and I spent a lot of time together when she didn't have to go out to the labs in-person. We liked to watch a lot of TV when we could. Featherman was one of her favorite shows when she was growing up, and we'd just spend hours and hours on the weekends going through all the seasons."
Haru giggles. "I see."
"She even showed me her old fanfic of the stuff from when she was in high school," Futaba laughs. "She used to tell me how she'd take it with her to cons and trade pages with the other people there."
"My father was unable to go to conventions, but he would tell me how he and other kids at his school would show each other their figurines on the playground." Haru's free hand draws circles on the couch cushion.
"Would your mother talk to you about work, too?"
Futaba lets out a loud "ha." "Don't get me started! It used to drive me up the wall. But she at least made it kinda cool by talking about people as Featherman characters." She lifts her head for a moment, leaning in to whisper into Haru's ear. "You didn't hear this from me, but Sojiro was compared a looot to Featherman Penguin. I'm inclined to agree."
Haru laughs as Futaba rests her head back on the girl's shoulder. "Not to worry, Futaba-chan. Your secret will be safe with me."
"And your dad?"
"Father would, although not quite in the same way. At home, he would spend time crafting new recipes to try out in the restaurants. He'd sit me on the counter and go through the instructions of each step he was performing in the silliest voices." Haru smiles sadly. "He used to be so kind…"
Futaba, hesitantly, murmurs "…That's why you wanted the change of heart."
She feels Haru nod her head. "Yes. Realistically, I knew Father would be sentenced to prison for the conditions he forced his employees to work…no, to die in." She takes a heavy breath as Futaba squeezes. "To mention nothing of his plans involving…that man and myself." They sit in silence for a moment. The small pressure of Futaba's hand is a comfort for Haru as she thinks back to the drastic changes of the last year. How she felt doomed to be forced to sit back and watch her father become more and more of a monster with each passing week.
"…I watched them all, you know," Haru whispers, and Futaba has to strain to hear the girl's voice. "The confessions. Even if a change of heart was successful, I understood the associated risks. I knew that the kind man I once knew as my Father would never come back. It was either allow his distortion to continue to grow unchecked, or render him inconsolably remorseful. But with the latter, he would at least be able to start to atone for his sins. And now…" Haru sniffles, giving Futaba's hand a hard squeeze.
"Futaba-chan…every part of me wants nothing more than to hate Akechi for the families he's ruined…"
"Haru…"
"Yet, I cannot bring myself to fully commit to it. Each time I reflect on him, there is an unyielding anger…and pity." She gently turns her head. Futaba glances up to Haru's face; it is devoid of emotion. A blank canvas except for her eyes. They shimmer in the light of the television, and Futaba could see the storm swirl within.
"Futaba-chan, do you recall what he said in Shido's palace? All those awful words about how lucky Ren-kun was?" Haru flinches in surprise when Futaba jumps up from the couch. Irritation lines her face.
"That was such BS! Ren isn't lucky, he put himself out there! All those randos he hangs out with, us, him and Makoto's relationship – it’s not some game where, if he gets enough points, he can just stop spending time with everyone He’s constantly working at it!" Futaba rests a palm against her forehead, growling. "There's so many times where he should be busy with stuff he has to do for school or Leblanc or his part-time jobs, and yet he just drops it all for me, or Makoto, or Ryuji -- anyone really" Futaba says, snapping her fingers, "just like that!"
She scoffs, pouting. "Lucky my ass. Ren put more work into getting to know people than Akechi could ever dream of. And the minute Ren tried to be Akechi's friend, that he tried to reach out his hand, Akechi took advantage of him and tried to pump his brain full of lead."
Haru merely nods. "I agree wholeheartedly, Futaba-chan."
"Then why bring it up?" Futaba asks, staring quizzically at the older girl.
"It's pitiable, that Akechi was so lost in the hatred and pain poisoning his heart, that he couldn't see the work Ren-kun had been willing to take to reach him, and the work Akechi had done to open up to Ren-kun at all."
Futaba opens her mouth, then closes it. She plops on the couch next to Haru, but instead of leaning on her, she faces her. Haru turns around to face towards Futaba. Absentmindedly, she reaches out a hand to grasp Futaba’s. She offers a gentle squeeze.
"Y'know, hearing what Shido's cognition of him was saying…it reminded me of the men in suits that read Mom's 'suicide' note to me. Akechi got used as a tool by someone in power to be a scapegoat when it was convenient," Futaba says, expression darkening. "I know exactly what that's like."
She takes a breath and meets Haru's eyes once more. "Haru, I…can't say I don't hate him. But I know that I’ll never forgive him. He lost his mom, but he had no right to take mine too."
"I will never forgive him either, Futaba-chan. Although it was coerced, although I sympathize with and pity him, Akechi has always had a choice. It would be an insult not only to us, but to him as well, to not acknowledge that fact." Haru watches, confused, as Futaba withdraws her hand. She twiddles her fingers together, her voice small as she spoke.
"…We, uh, can still insult him in other ways, right?"
Haru smiles, and it finally reaches her eyes. "Of course!" Futaba begins to laugh, only for Haru’s to join in. Their shared joy radiates throughout themselves and the room as though sunshine itself. It is Futaba who speaks first when their laughter finally fades away.
"Thank you for this, Haru. I…really appreciate being able to talk to you about this. I…don't think everyone else really understands, the way you do."
"Thank you, Futaba-chan. I wish neither of us had to understand this as well as we do, but..." Haru gasps as Futaba squeezes her hand. There is a smile on her face.
"But since we do, we'll just have to have each other's backs!"
Haru gives a gentle smile and returns the squeeze.
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 11TH, 2017
After School / Nurse's Office
"…You're willing to ask me, as well?"
Sakamoto scoffs. "Duh, dude! The Phantom Thieves don't act unless it's a unanimous vote!"
Goro Akechi's gaze automatically travels to the daughters of Wakaba Isshiki and Kunikazu Okumura. In their eyes, he finds what he expects. The anger. The pain. The loss. And yet, there is another emotion that swirls beneath their surface. Something he can't name.
Isshiki's daughter looks to Okumura. Okumura looks back.
As one, their gaze lands on him.
They nod.
Goro glances back to Sakamoto. He sighs.
"Fine then. You know I have no intention of accepting Maruki's world, anyway."
Outside the nurse's office, the Phantom Thieves break for the day. Takamaki, Sakamoto and Kitagawa leave to return the gym clothes to Sakamoto’s locker. Goro can hear Kitagawa prattle on about art, and his eagerness to try a beef bowl.
“Goro?”
He turns; Amamiya faces him, a small smile on his face.
“What is it now?” Goro tries to layer his voice with the appropriate venom, and chooses to ignore the fraction of a smile that he knows rests on his face that so blatantly undermines him.
“Text me when you’re ready to leave.”
“I don’t require a babysitter, Amamiya.”
Amamiya shakes his head, pointing at Goro’s outfit. It is Shujin Academy athletic wear. “No, but I need those for gym tomorrow. And, no offense, but I have no idea where you’ve been,” he says, smirking.
Goro scoffs, glaring. “I’ve been in an upscale apartment, while I do believe your current abode is a dingy, dust-ridden attic.”
Amamiya shrugs. “It’s vintage.” Goro readies a reply when Niijima crosses over to the pair. She meets Goro’s eyes with a glare; he returns the gesture.
“Akechi.”
“Niijima.”
“I have some last things to finish up with the student council room with Ren. As I’m sure he’s mentioned text him when you’re ready to leave so you can get your clothes.” He watches as she grabs Amamiya’s hand and leads him out the door.
Although the conversation is short, the discomfort rang clear on Niijima's face. It is what he expects. No doubt, she has words on the subject of his joining to share with Amamiya later, if she had not already done so. Considering his fa--, Shido's, plans with her sister’s Palace during the election, Goro is surprised she hasn’t said anything particularly nasty to him yet. It’s what her sister would do, after all.
He mentally shrugs as he steps out of the office.
In doing so, he steps right in front of Okumura and Isshiki's daughter. Their eyes meet. He expects them to part, to awkwardly shuffle away from him as Wakaba’s Shadow had done after he plunged his sword into her chest. How she squirmed until he lodged a bullet between her eyes. How Kunikazu’s Shadow quivered in anguish after a single shot.
He expects them to move because he knows them. He knows their pain. He knows they are weak.
But they don’t part; they stand. They stare.
He stares back.
The three stand like this for a beat. He reminds himself who they are. They are weak. They are timid. They are in pain.
Yet, the continue to stand. And the haunting sense of trepidation begins to grow more persistent with the minute. Goro clears his throat.
"It would be foolish to team up with your little group again and not tell this to the two of you," he says, voice low.
"I will never apologize for what I did." His delivery Is slow. Measured. Pointed. "I hope you're aware of that."
"Duh," Isshiki's daughter scoffs, as though he, Goro Akechi, were an idiot. "We know who we're dealing with."
Goro readies say a snide remark when the girl begins to speak again. Her voice catches him off-guard. It's lower, more serious, as though her whole demeanor changed. "But just remember this, Goro Akechi…"
"No matter how you help us in this mission, no matter what circumstances may necessitate your aid, we will never forgive you," Okumura declares. The venom in her voice is clearer. There is a confidence he's never heard from the girl. From either girl.
In a cruel, twist of irony, it reminds him of the day he first met Shido again after all those years. The hours of rehearsing his explanation of the Metaverse and his powers. The weeks spent training the muscles of his faced to move in just the exact way he needed them to. The years of murders, of incapacitations, all to build to a plan he was always doomed to be outplayed in.
But his was just bravado. Theirs was something more.
Despite himself, Goro smiles.
"Then I'm glad we're in agreement." He steps around them, pulling out his phone and texting Amamiya.
As they watch him walk away, Futaba’s hand unconsciously reaches for Haru’s.
Haru’s finds hers.
Their hands link together.
Like their pain.
Like their stories.
Like their resolve.
Both girls squeeze the other’s hand.
And find themselves,
together,
as one.