Chapter Text
“Another stellar performance, Joker!”
“Bravo, bravo!”
“Nice job, Joker!”
I put on a fake smile for the cheers of the event staff.
Idle flattery. Nothing more. Tonight was merely acceptable.
Without stopping, I continue my walk to the changing room. I need some privacy. To take off the damn mask. As a marketing gimmick, it works wonders. Joker and the Phantom Thieves are the newest idol phenomenon. But maintaining my mysterious personality, even backstage, is exhausting.
It’s all polite smiles, bravos, fake cheers, and an unnerving air of fraudulence. That’s show business for you, I suppose.
After a maze of halls and signs, I arrive at my room, the traditional warning taped on the door.
JOKER
DO NOT ENTER
It’s a pleasant surprise to see no one posted outside. Any moment of pure privacy is a moment I value.
Opening the door, I allow myself a breath. I can only return to my true self alone.
I groan and collapse into a chair. My manager will have something to say about my performance tonight. If I’m lucky, that lecture will take place tomorrow. Right now all I want to do is get back to my home, my cat, and my bed.
Thank God this show was in Tokyo. I’d be upset if I had to stay in a hotel tonight.
A knock at the door gets me to open my eyes.
“Joker? It’s Mishima, can I come in?” An exasperated sigh escapes my lips.
There goes my moment of solitude.
I return my domino mask to my face and reassume Joker’s persona. I sit back down in the chair, readjusting my posture to sit up straight.
“Come in.” My voice hums in my chest, a constant reminder of why I was chosen to don this mask.
The door swings open once more and Mishima walks in. A fan turned production assistant, the young man nervously addresses me.
“J-Joker, sir, your new bodyguard is here.”
Ah, that’s why there was no one outside. Ogawa retired last week. I was wondering when the newest guard dog would show up. Turning to Mishima, I motion him inside.
“Alright, bring him in. I’d like to meet him.” Mishima peers outside the door and summons my new personal protector. An unexpectedly light voice graces my ears.
“Not him, sir, but her.”
She walks in, stopping right in front of me. She can’t be much older than me, maybe by a year or two. Her chestnut-colored hair, cut neat and short, frames her face beautifully. She is a fair bit shorter than me but maintains a powerful presence. Her suit, tailored to perfection, gives her an elegant, regal feeling, like she ought to be the star of the show. Her eyes are such a rich shade of brown that they appear to shine red in the glow of the electric lamp, peering into my very soul as she stares back at me. Her voice is smooth and strong, a lightning rod grounding the room. The initial shock wears off as I put on an innocent smile.
“Ah, excuse me. It’s nice to meet you, Miss…?” Her eyes narrow, viewing my pleasantries as a challenge of some kind.
“Niijima. Makoto Niijima.” The tension in the room is palpable. Mishima nervously chuckles.
“Ms. Niijima, this is Joker. H-he’ll be your charge during your service. You’re supposed to t-travel with him to and from concert venues and recording studios, stand guard outside his room during appearances, and k-keep watch while on tour.” His stumbling is distracting. I would rather continue to study Niijima. She acknowledges Mishima without turning away from me.
“Understood. I’ve already read my full mission dossier. It’s a pleasure to work with you.” Her words are stiff, just another falsehood fired off backstage. I return my most charming smile and look at Mishima.
“And the mask…?”
“S-same as always. Six months and then it’s at y-your discretion.” I know they don’t tell bodyguards-in-training this. If she’s just trying to get close to one of the Thieves to learn our identities then six months is a lot of time to invest. Niijima’s face does not change at this news.
Well, it was worth a shot. I guess she’s a real professional, then.
“Well then, Ms. Niijima. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Thank you, sir. I look forward to serving you to the best of my ability,” she responds.
As Mishima ducks out of the room, I turn away from Niijima, walking back to my chair.
“Well, you’re dismissed for the day. I live in Tokyo. I can get home myself.” I’m hoping to get rid of her, chasing that fleeting moment of solitude I had for not long enough. Annoyingly, she does not grant me my wish.
“I’m sorry, sir, but it is part of my responsibilities to accompany you to and from concert venues.”
Of course. What a suck-up. I grab my bag and turn back to her. “Then let’s get going. I’d like to be back home before too late. Where should I head for the car?”
She replies and my body begins following automatically. I take this as my sign to end the conversation and let my brain wander.
At least she seems to be reciprocating my desire to not talk right now. After that show I’m not in the mood to chat, and certainly not with the new girl. I’m just a short drive from home. And then I can collapse into my bed and sleep for twelve hours.
My mind continues to dream about the sleep the future holds when I’m snapped back to the present by Niijima’s voice once more.
“I apologize, sir, but I don’t actually know your address. They didn’t include it in the dossier…” She sounds irritated, like it takes everything she has to not start snapping at me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course they didn’t. It’s all about secrecy here, nevermind the fact that I’m the one that gets inconvenienced.
“San-chome 10-3, Shibuya.” Her expression changes from annoyance to realization to shock. She groans.
“You’re not going to believe this…” She grumbles to herself, briefly dropping her, up until now, impeccably professional attitude. Steeling herself, she looks me in the eye. “That’s… that’s also where I live.”
I’m stunned into silence. It’s surprising enough to hear she lives in the same district as me, but the exact same building? The odds of that have to be lower than winning the lottery. I try to act as though this doesn’t bother me when my voice returns.
“Well, what are the odds? I suppose this means it will be even easier to guard me.” I give her a smirk. I might want nothing more than to fall asleep right now but I am still an entertainer. Joker is mysterious and suave, like a gentleman thief.
She snorts, shaking her head. At least she thought it was somewhat funny. I’ll take that. To my knowledge, not many within the company actually know my address, so I suppose it makes sense that nobody would notice the match. Actually, how many even know my real name…?
I shake those thoughts out of my head for now. I’m too tired for this. Oh man, I’m just one car ride away from bed…
I arrive at the company-provided car. Indiscreet, black paint; it could be any SUV pounding the streets of Tokyo. Tinted windows keep my Joker mask from catching any undue attention from outside. To her credit, Niijima does know exactly what to do. With a practiced efficiency, she opens the door for me to step through. Settling into the car, I can see her glancing around the parking lot, presumably scanning for any threats or rogue fanatics, as she moves to the driver’s seat.
She’s by-the-book through and through. How boring.
Rather than attempt conversation once more, I decide to catch up on my messages. The usual post-show congrats from Oracle and Fox just need a quick “thanks” in response. As I predicted, Igor sent me a text about the show. I decide to ignore it for now. I can acknowledge that tomorrow. Sleep first. Nothing else needs my immediate attention.
My usual ritual of staring out the window watching passersby only gets me through half the car ride. Curiosity gets the better of me as Niijima falls into view and I decide to study my new protector. Her stance at the wheel is natural but guarded, like she’s ready to spring into action at any moment. It’s not lost on me that the danger she may be anticipating could include me, too.
“So, Miss Niijima. Why bodyguarding?” If I’m going to be spending as much time with her as I did with Ogawa, I’d like to establish some kind of rapport.
Her eyes flicker to the mirror before returning to the road. She takes a second to reply, like she’s figuring out what exactly she can tell me.
“Not much to say about it, sir. I’m good at it and it pays well.” Anyone who says they don’t have much to say is usually lying. I let her go for now. No use pushing on our first day together.
“You know any martial arts, Miss Niijima?”
Mild annoyance flashes across her face. “Yes, I specialize in aikido but I also know bits of judo and karate. My father made sure I was well-versed in self-defense.”
I hum in acknowledgement and file away the information, however little it tells me. It seems she’s not the type to give away much about herself.
“Been in the bodyguarding game long? I assume you’ve got quite the resume given you were hired here.”
Niijima glances back to me again. Seems like she didn’t expect to be questioned tonight.
“I’ve been providing protective services for about five years now, sir.” I’m surprised. That’s less than I thought. That said, she does looks to be my age, so she’s clearly young. I press my luck with a chuckle.
“Five years, huh? Assuming you started right out of college, or at least, soon after, you’re probably around 28, then?”
My smirk is wiped off my face immediately. I can see her crimson eyes glowering in the mirror, staring into my very soul with an intensity that could only be matched by a sunbeam focused by magnifying glass. I’m filled with the urge to deescalate.
“Uh, my apologies. That was, um, too personal.” I can feel my cheeks flush. Thank god we’re in the dark.
Niijima seems satisfied enough. Her glare is enough to snuff out any desire left to poke the bear and I return to staring out the window. Luckily for me, the rest of the trip goes by fast. We pull into the building’s parking lot and I realize the drop-off procedure will have to work a little differently since she and I both live here.
“You see that door off to the side there?” I point to an out-of-the-way door attached to the building. “That’s where I go in. Only I’ve got the key, it’s some deal with the apartment building. I’ll go in, then send you a message letting you know I’ve made it to my room. Work for you?”
She mulls it over and sighs. “I can’t think of anything better.”
Against my better judgment, I can’t help but crack a joke once more.
“Y’know, it normally takes a lot more for me to get a girl’s number.” Once again, her eyes bare into my soul. I don’t know what being judged by Anubis felt like for ancient Egyptians, but I imagine it was a lot like this. I shrink away and rub the back of my neck, apologizing shamefully. “I, uh, overstepped again. I’ll be better.”
She gives me a look and begrudgingly pulls out her phone. She may hate my guts but at least she’s practical. It’s a relatively new model, protected by a navy blue case, the one distinguishing feature a small panda sticker stuck to the back side.
“I’m giving this to you for purely business reasons. Please only make use of it when my professional services are required,” she lectures me as I type her number into my phone.
I give her a lazy mock salute. “Yes, ma’am!” She rolls her eyes but gives a small smile as I march to the door. I unlock the door and before stepping through, call back to her. “It’s a pleasure to work with you, Miss Niijima!”
She gives a curt nod in return and I close the door. Solitude, at last. I peel off the mask, stuffing it into a small bag I keep in this room for moving to and from my room. It’s small, consisting only of a locker and a light, but it’s private, which is all it needs to be. A deep breath and I open the inside door, finally allowed to be Ren Amamiya.
I give a wave to the doorman and step into the elevator. 11th floor. High up, but not the very top. I wonder what floor she lives on.
I continue pondering my new bodyguard as I push open the door to my apartment. Morgana is curled up on the couch, no doubt exhausted from waiting for me to return. I send a quick message to Niijima so that she’s not kept outside any longer than she needs to be.
It’s strange to see someone so young doing bodyguarding. Ogawa was ex-military and the others have told me that their guards are similar. Maybe she’s one of those people that were trained as kids to be assassins? She did say her dad taught her aikido…
My train of thought continues to wander off-track as I prepare for bed. But when I close my eyes in bed, there’s only one question that sticks to my mind.
Just who is Makoto Niijima?