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All was well in the day-to-day lives of the former Phantom Thieves. At least ‘well’ in the sense that none of them were in immediate mortal danger.
For the resident artist of the Phantom Thieves, today marks the day he moves up another year. And Kosei made a show of celebrating the last official day of its academic year by showcasing the works of its top students from every program.
Hence, the speakers at Ueno Museum played the tunes composed by its music students.
Futaba was dubious.
She found the music - european classical in its theme - all ‘too ridiculously good’ to have been composed by students. But, then again, she supposed, the paintings she’s seen Kosei students showcase at the Ueno Museum, which she and the Thieves all honestly graded as ‘masterful’, were all still a step below the more recent works of their mutual friend and teammate: Yusuke Kitagawa.
So Futaba shambled her way to the museum proper slowly, ignoring the growing crowds and admiring instead the student-made sculptures the museum had displayed outside.
Perusing with her were some Kosei students, clad in their uniforms and sporting their school blazers with all the buttons done - nice and tidy. Prim and proper. Making the students presentable to prospecting college scouts--
“Imada-san looks soooooo cute!” Fawned a nearby first-year girl.
“I know right??” Her friend eagerly agreed.
--and to lower-classmen, it seemed.
Futaba bristled. Moving on to the next sculpture presented the same background noise, this time a gaggle of boys fawning over some senior named ‘Nagano Yori’.
And it continues on from there; gaggles of Kosei students fawning over topnotchers like socialites enthusing over prized racehorses.
Futaba maintained what was essentially a slow shamble through the growing crowds, past students and teachers and tourist and ‘socialites’ of undeniable physical beauty a student of the arts would likely rightly appreciate having as a ready company.
Compared to them, she felt starkly inadequate. Unworthy.
“Kitagawa-san’s really outdid himself this year.” One male student remarked, Futaba overheard.
“No kidding.” His friend agreed. “Something must’ve happened.”
Futaba - who’d been eavesdropping while she studied one of the paintings by another student - would’ve pointed towards Yusuke’s involvement with the Phantom Thieves.
“Think he got a girlfriend? Maybe that’s why.”
‘Eh???’
“He’s got girls chasing him around all the time though. What’s the diff?”
“Thank you for helping me chase them off, Imada-san.” Yusuke thanked a fellow third-year-to-be standing beside him, sounding rightly exasperated.
“No prob,” Imada chuckled. “You did the same for me a while ago.”
As far as chasing off clingy admirers tended to go, Yusuke simply walking up to Imada for a quick inquiry and pulling him away from the gaggle of admirers ‘out of the kindness of his heart’ was hardly something that warranted a favour.
“That was accidental.” He deadpans honestly.
Imada scoffs. “Well, I’m grateful anyways. When’re you clocking out though?”
“I’m waiting for someone, actually, Imada-san. Perhaps when they arrive.”
“Oh? A d--?” Imada san trailed off, his gaze trudging past Yusuke, the crowd, and resting upon a fiery-haired girl sporting a green jacket and baggy black pants, scrutinizing a wide painting of a grassy landscape done in the style of Van Gogh.
Yusuke casually peered over his shoulder upon noting Imada’s curious expression, his eyes widening upon seeing who it was that Imada had proverbially locked on.
“Is she.. She’s not a Kosei student.”
“She’s from Shujin.” Yusuke supplied - which isn’t technically a lie, since Futaba’s set to attend Shujin next academic year.
“Shujin, huh.. Not an art school.”
“She’s not an art student.”
“No?”
“Though she is quite the talented programmer.” ‘Hacker’, Yusuke thought, but deigned not to divulge that bit.
“You know her personally th- oh! She disappeared..”
Peering back again, Yusuke saw that Futaba was no longer scrutinizing the landscape painting and had moved elsewhere. But… Imada seemed to sound disappointed for a moment there?
The painting wasn’t his Imada’s, Yusuke was sure.
Suddenly, the normally well-composed bufudyne wielder felt rather irked; what did Imada have in mind?
“Imada-san. Would you care for an introduction, then? I’d be glad to oblige.” Which was a complete lie. But if it meant introducing a new friend into Futaba’s ever-growing circle of confidants, then Yusuke was indeed happy to oblige.
But...
The malice that danced in Yusuke’s cold, icy glare did not fly Imada by.
“Perhaps another time, Kitagawa-san. I have matters with a few critiques I need to take up with the coordinator.” He offers his hand to Yusuke to shake. “Have a fair evening, nonetheless.”
“Likewise, Imada-san.” Yusuke smiled, shaking hands before Imada promptly fled the scene with a fleet footedness Yusuke would’ve likened to Morgana in his cat form.
He breathes a sigh of relief.. Much to his internal confusion as to why. ..before panicking over the realization that Futaba might’ve gotten lost in the crowd.
[ not selling drugs here - GIRLS EDITION ]
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : I don’t think I’m cut out for this (╥﹏╥)
CEO of pastel : Cut out for what, ‘Taba-chan?
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : There are so many girls here
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : cute girls
Would kill for cheesecake : umm
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : CUTE ARTSY GIRLS THAT INARI MIGHT ACTUALLY LIKE (ಥ﹏ಥ)
Mamakoto : oh.
CEO of Pastel : Futaba, I’m not sure that’s actually fair on your part
Would kill for cheesecake : yeah!
Would kill for cheesecake : what’s up tho? Did you catch Yusuke chatting up some art chick?
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : well. No. (-_-)
Mamakoto : then it isn’t really fair for him either, Futaba.
Mamakoto : you really shouldn’t compare yourself to those girls.
Mamakoto : consider the fact that he’s had all this time to go after them, but he went out of his way to pursue you in particular.
Would kill for cheesecake : And don’t you remember that painting he made OF you?
CEO of Pastel : it was truly one of his best works.
Mamakoto : I second that.
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : ladies, please.
Mamakoto : please stop doubting yourself, Futaba.
‘He’s oblivious to anything but art, Makoto. It’s possible he just didn’t notice all the girls chasing him.’ Futaba internally lamented. ..In full view of the artist in question, even as she got up to amble away - having briefly considered that simply disappearing was the better option.
“Futaba.” Came the low and familiar cadence of a troubled Fox.
Despite how easily her name reached her ears, she still jumped like a startled cat.
“Shoot, Inari! Don’t startle me like that.”
“My apologies, but-”
“Heeeeey Kitagawa-kun~” Called a passing Kosei student.
Only then did Futaba finally get a good look at her Fox; clad in Kosei’s full uniform, he looked down right.. Gorgeous.. By her - no. By anyone’s standards. It really wasn’t a mystery why these Kosei girl fawned over him more than usual; he had lamented several times before how it annoyed him to no end.
Now, though. He looked rightly agitated.
So she took a few tentative steps towards him while he not-so-subtly glared at the passing girls. Her presence beside him then did eventually catch the girls’ attention and they gave her an incredulous look.
She sighs.
“I’m not like them. Am I?” She asks. And waited for a barrage of criticism.
“No. You’re not.” He says sternly, crossing his arms and still glaring - more at the crowd in general, filled with gawkers and onlookers and tourists - than at her.
Futaba opened her mouth to help underrate herself, but he continued.. Much to her surprise.
“You’re hardly as base and uninspiring as they are.”
Futaba blinked. “What-”
“I’m honestly not sure why they continue to try and win my affection.”
“But-”
“When someone else has already won it.”
“I-”
“Nay- Taken it. By force. Though I would’ve given it to them willingly, had they simply asked.”
“Yusuke, I-”
She felt hot tears stream down her left cheek. Was she crying?
He looked at her then with a tenderness in his eyes that alluded to no ridicule at the tears that now flooded her eyes but refused to flow.
“Futaba. Did you, perhaps, think they would ever take me from you?” He asks her softly as he leads her away to a secluded tree. Not exactly one off view from the general population, but at least one would have to go out of their way to approach in order to disturb them.
She nods. He sees, and understands; he would fear the same whenever men in her gaming circles entered her presence. But her behaviour towards them alone alluded plainly towards casual friendship than anything. And she often made it a point to proclaim that she’s romantically unavailable; be it by implications or by straight up referring to him as being ‘hers’.
Not that he minded.
It was reassuring.
She clung to his sleeve then, gingerly and tentative - as if she thought she would need permission to hold on to him.
‘Absurd’ - was the implied response when he adjusted one of her hands so it wrapped around his biceps rather than gripping the stitches of his blazer.
He really did look absurdly attractive in his blazer, since it made him look like he was wearing a proper suit.
“Is this tailor-made?” She asks herself in a whisper, cursing herself right after. But he picked up on it anyway and nodded.
“All Kosei blazers conform to the wearer’s measurements.” He answers.
She whimpers, resting her head against his arm. He sighs.
“Futaba,” he began then, soft as he could manage with his voice, “you will never lose me. Ever. To anyone.”
Her grip on his sleeve loosens.
“This is the simplest promise I can offer you, my muse.” He cites in a quieter tone of voice as they stop at the cool shadows of one of the park trees.
It was hardly picturesque, they would both agree, but they needed the shade.
“I will always find my way back to you. And no one can ever seize me the way you have.”
He promptly seized the opportunity of her loosened grip to take her left hand and placed it on his chest - at the heart, where she could feel it beat twice or thrice as fast, planting his hand over hers to keep it steady.
“Feel that?” He asks softly.
She nods, glimmering eyes peering upwards to meet his - warm and gray and belying a wealth of affection she once thought only achievable in anime and games.
His heart was racing. ‘Overclocking’ was her typical jargon for it.
And he smiles that soft smile of his - warm and inviting.
“Only you can do this to me, Futaba.” He says. And she buries her face into his sleeve once again, feeling herself grin like a loon. But he did not relent. “My muse, my fire.” He cood. She could only laugh with teary eyes now. “Only you can cause my heart to dance as it does now.”
[ not selling drugs here - GIRLS EDITION ]
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : WHEN THE FUCK DID INARI LEVEL-UP HIS CHARISMA?! (×_×)
Mamakoto: language
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : sorry
Would kill for cheesecake : LOL.
Would kill for cheesecake : well?? Did you two talk????
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : Sort of.
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : umm..
Mamakoto : ‘umm’?
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : He talked and I sorta just sobbed there.
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : I may have also ruined his blazer’s sleeve with my snot
Would kill for cheesecake : gross
SUPERIOR GREMLIN : ikr o(〒﹏〒)o
CEO of Pastel : I doubt a damaged blazer would hardly bother him as much as seeing his lover go through emotional turmoil.
Mamakoto : ..I was about to say that, actually, Haru. But thank you nonetheless.
CEO of Pastel : ;)