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Chapter Text

April 23

Sojiro Sakura shut the door behind him and released a long breath. Even on the most boring, uneventful, perfectly standard workday, tension managed to find its way into his shoulders and creep down his back. The recent doubling of teens he was responsible for couldn't be helping. He could feel his hairline losing the battle against stress, millimeter by precious millimeter.

Looking down the dark and empty hallway, Sojiro slipped off his shoes and pulled out his phone. "I'm home," he called into the silent house. "Dinner'll be ready in five." His phone buzzed in his hand. An unknown number had sent him a text.

>Futaba Sakura is dead. She died of hunger.

"Well," Sojiro said to the desolate hallway, "I'll have to get some life-restoring curry served quick, then."

Another buzz. >Her soul will leave if you don't hurry.

He chuckled wryly, closing out the messenger. His phone stared at him, and he stared back in a brief moment of confusion before rolling his eyes and tucking it back into his pocket. He'd lost track of how many weird things the kid did to his devices and had stopped bothering to question them.

"Hey, poltergeist," Sojiro said as he passed the taped-up door halfway down the hall. "Put some dishes out if you can, all right?"

Neither the door nor his phone replied, and Sojiro took the hint that his personal spectre had sunk back into her screens to bide the time until his curry reheated. The routine was well worn into both of their days. Their fumbling, distant homelife was far from what he'd wish for an orphaned and abused child, but Futaba was as comfortable as he could manage and for that he'd maintain this familiar and unsteady rhythm for as long as he could.

The smell of curry, already soaked into the walls, refreshed itself as he heated the latest batch on the stove. Idly stirring the pot and body on autopilot in the quiet kitchen, Sojiro's mind fell back to its own well-worn routine: doubt.

Why risk this comfort for some new troublemaking brat?

With each precaution and emotional wall he'd put up against the teenage invader that now lurked above his café, the question flared up again and again. Sojiro's stupid bleeding heart had put the tenuous stability he'd gathered for Futaba at risk. He'd been kicking himself for it ever since agreeing to take the kid in, and the boy's arrival had only amplified Sojiro's doubts.

He took a moment to wipe the steam off his glasses and onto his apron. He probably needed a stronger prescription, but hell if he could afford a new pair. It'd be better to save up for when Futaba would inevitably need them, anyway... assuming he could even get her to the optometrist. It pissed him off that the new kid wore plano lenses just for fun. Give him twenty years, see how much fun glasses were then.

Some foolish part of Sojiro had been expecting... well, another Futaba to show up at Leblanc's doorstep. Someone broken and distant, who would be easy to slot into their practiced routine.

Akira, with his hard eyes and slouching posture, had not proven especially accommodating. The boy's dry sarcasm and defiant strut stood in sharp contrast to Sojiro's vision of a lost and rejected child (which, in fairness, had only one point of comparison before their first meeting). It might not be the kid's fault he wasn't the same type of mess as Futaba, but that didn't make it any easier for Sojiro to find space for him, figuratively or literally.

Well, fixing a bad attitude wasn't Sojiro's responsibility. He had his hands full already, and Akira had food and a roof, so he shouldn't complain.

Except.

Sojiro stood outside Futaba's door with the fresh plate of curry. She hadn't put any plates out in the meanwhile. "Grub's ready." He didn't knock--whether or not she heard his call, a rap at the door wouldn't make a difference. "You good to open up, or should I leave it here?"

He was kidding himself. He hadn't given Futaba much more than food and a roof either. She was getting that same bare minimum effort, and from the other side of the door Sojiro could only guess if she was any happier than before he'd taken her from the bastard who called himself family.

In the meanwhile, only a few short days after his unceremonious arrival, something had changed in Akira's demeanor. Sojiro couldn't quite place it, but since yesterday there was some sort of.... pride, or certainty, or something radiating off the boy. Whatever had caused it, Sojiro knew it sure wasn't thanks to his own efforts. It left him with an uneasy feeling. Shame, mostly. A clear picture of his own ineffectiveness. He'd gone and made a clumsy attempt to re-insert himself into Akira's life earlier this evening, and it had only brought into focus how much he was floundering for relevance.

"I'll teach you to make the perfect cup of coffee."

Pathetic. That was really all he had to offer, huh? Sojiro felt hot and foolish from the paltry effort.

Futaba's door remained silent. He sighed, and stooped to leave the plate on the floor.

_click.

Sojiro's head snapped up, eagerly looking into the dark sliver of an opening that had appeared. The faintest gleam of glasses looked back.

"S o j i r o . . ." Her voice was a low, creaking groan. "I h u n g e r r r r r r . . ."

"I know, I know." He chuckled as Futaba's arms reached out, zombie-like, grasping for the food. "I've got your, uh, life-giving mana right here."

A smile cracked across Futaba's lips as she grasped her supper. In a show of an abnormally good mood she opted not to slam the door, but began shoveling curry into her mouth right there crouched in the doorway.

"Woah now, at least chew it!" Sojiro laughed. When she showed no sign of slowing his smirk faded, flimsy cheer giving way to his doubts. He scratched at his goatee, before kneeling down beside her. "Hey, listen, I... I'm real sorry about all the late nights. I promise I'll be better."

"'sok." Futaba finally swallowed her mouthful and came up for air. "You've got the newb to take care of."

"...Right. The newb." He shook his head. "I mean it. I'll be more careful about closing up on time. I can even get you, uh..." His mind cast about for whatever gizmo it was she'd been most recently fixated on.

"Coffee," she said through another spoonful of rice. "The perfect cup."

Sojiro winced. "I asked you to stop with the spying." When Futaba responded by bringing the plate directly up to her mouth for maximum shoveling efficiency, he huffed and dug into his pocket. "Seriously, kid, you can't keep doing this. You can just call me for anything you want to know." Fishing out his phone, he held it out to her. "Please, just take it off my phone?"

The snort Futaba gave was so intense that for a moment Sojiro thought she'd choked. Her head didn't lift from her plate but he could practically hear her roll her eyes. "I didn't put anything on your phone."

The phrasing instantly manifested another line on Sojiro's to-do list to check for bugs at the café tomorrow. In the meanwhile, his scowl deepened as he held his phone firmly out to her. "Come on Futaba, I'm not a complete dunce. I saw the goofy app you put in here."

"If you found it, it's not mine."

"What--"

Suddenly Futaba's head snapped up, and Sojiro had to lunge for her dropped plate before it could splatter curry stains across the hallway.

"Futaba! What are you--"

He'd been too startled to register the girl snatching his phone away. Her glasses gleamed against the glow of his screen. "Someone is spying on Sojiro? Is it a challenge?"

"Uh." As familiar as Sojiro was with Futaba's fits of technological fixation, he himself was very rarely caught in its crosshairs. She didn't look up from the screen.

"When did this show up on Sojiro's phone?"

"Eh... sometime today? I noticed it when I got home." He rubbed at his neck. "I thought you'd slipped it in this morning, or something." Peering over Futaba's shoulder, Sojiro frowned at the apparent malware that had appeared on his phone. The red, leering eye of the app's icon peered back at him.

April 24

"Futaba, I'm heading out."

Sojiro paused, waiting for a response. None came.

"Futaba, I need my phone. Please." He leaned heavily against the wall, counting between breaths. A thrumming headache had settled between his eyebrows overnight, and sleep had come in fits so brief it felt like he was being taunted with the mere idea of rest. "I'll even give it back after work, just--"

The door creaked open to reveal a bleary eye glaring out at him.

"Sojiro won't let me sleep."

He blinked back at Futaba. With the urgency she'd taken his phone and locked him out, the notion she'd be sleeping rather than tinkering hadn't even crossed his mind. "Sorry, kid. I just... are you done with my phone? I need it for--"

"No." The sliver of glare from behind the door intensified before vanishing with another click.

"Wh--Futaba!" He knocked urgently against her door. "Futaba, come on, if something happens at work--"

Yet another click. The door opened just enough for Sojiro's phone to fly out at him, and he scrambled to catch it.

"Couldn't crack it." Futaba's voice was resentful. "Mystery app. Couldn't get past the passwords." She allowed the door open just a smidge wider, enough so he could see her make a rude gesture at the offending device.

"Oh...kay. As long as it's gone--"

"Nope. Couldn't delete it. Couldn't copy it. Couldn't access it." She pointed emphatically. "Mystery app."

He raised an eyebrow. A lingering, fatherly suspicion arose that Futaba was making excuses to keep spying through his phone. It felt a great deal more likely than his tech wiz teen actually being bested by any program. "Well, if you can't do anything. I've got no chance. So I'll leave it alone." He thumbed over the screen, illuminating the time. "Shit. I gotta get to LeBlanc. If you need anything--"

"A name, a place, and a something." Futaba shuffled back from the door. "Passwords." And she shut it once more.

Sojiro blinked and scowled down at his phone and the red eye emblazoned on the screen. Bustling out towards work, he made the mental note to never bother with the unknown app again.

April 30

The streets were dark, yet Sojiro couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him. Dozens of unseen and imagined spectators judged him as he rushed through the dim alleys. All he wanted was to lead an easy, unnoticed life, but now--

"Gosh, you got here fast."

Sojiro flinched at the voice and glowered at the figure standing up from his makeshift seat on a nearby stoop. If the glare was visible through the gloom the man didn't react to it, his smile all too friendly.

"Is this how you treat all your customers over there? Such prompt service must be nice. No wonder you're so popular, Sakura-san."

"Cut the crap, Youji." Sojiro crossed his arms. "Say your piece and let me get back to forgetting you exist."

Youji Isshiki chuckled, and Sojiro's skin crawled. It sometimes baffled him how siblings could be so different; on occasion he'd tried to trace back how it might have happened, imagining Youji and Wakaba must have been in their youth together. How could a woman so clever and vibrant have grown up alongside a man so witless and foul? Did being around him make her strive to be better? Or had he given up trying at the first realization of how much better his sister was than him? There had been a time Sojiro had really pitied the guy, and how complicated it must have been for him to unpack such a relationship after her sudden death. Those attempts at empathy had met a quick and violent end after he found how the bastard had been treating his niece.

It was a real conundrum. Sojiro would love nothing more than to punch Youji's smug face for Futaba, but it was for Futaba's sake that he couldn't touch the guy. Was that an irony, or a paradox? Maybe it was a catch-22. He was pretty sure that's what catch-22 meant. Wanting really bad to strangle a guy but not being allowed to.

Ultimately Sojiro was glad Youji resembled neither Wakaba nor Futaba at all, in personality nor appearance. As things stood it was far easier to put those connections aside and loathe Youji based purely on his own merit.

"Don't be like that. I just wanted to chat." Youji paced closer with an excessively casual gait. Sojiro's body language was stiff and straight, but Youji was doing all the posturing. "I even asked to meet away from your little hideout, just like you wanted."

"I wanted you to leave us alone, not drag me out to some shady spot you picked out."

"Well, that really is a shame." Youji clicked his tongue. "See, Sakura-san, this is really a misunderstanding. I certainly didn't want to meet up all the way out here. I'd much rather be somewhere warm, with a fresh drink and friendly service. This could be a nice, comfortable chat if you weren't so paranoid."

"I told you to get on with it."

"What, are you in a rush?" Youji made a show of checking his watch. It was a big gaudy thing with a screen; probably could check horse racing schedules anywhere with a wi-fi connection. "The night's young--gosh, don't tell me you closed up early to come here!" His overly jovial demeanor turned sharp. "You really love to rub how well you're doing in my face."

"For fuck's sake. I'm leaving." Sojiro couldn't believe he left Akira alone to close up Leblanc just to attend a pity party. He pulled out his phone, already drafting an excuse to text Futaba for his lateness. He could swing by the electronics shop on the way back as an apology...

"Don't you turn away from me." A hand grabbed at Sojiro's shoulder, pulling his attention from his phone and up to the snarling expression on Youji's face. "We aren't done talking, Sojiro Sakura."

"Yes we are, Youji Isshiki. Get the hell off of me." A pulse of pain bloomed in Sojiro's temples suddenly, and his phone chirped something in his hand. Sojiro tried to shake off Youji's grasp, but for all the bastard's failings he had Sojiro beat in strength.

"Quit acting so high and mighty. Treating me like scum, you think you're better than me?"

"I don't think that." Sojiro finally threw the hand off as his brief headache cleared, only to find Youji had pressed in close to his face, breath filling the space between them with the stale stench of beer.

"You ought to be thanking me, you ungrateful bastard. After I let you take that brat and her benefits for yourself, you ought to be giving me top goddamn service at that shitty little shop."

The moment of disorientation gave way to fiery indignation, and Sojiro shoved Youji away. "Don't you dare talk about Futaba--"

Youji coughed out a laugh. "Get off your damn high horse. I know you're locking that leech away while you hide in your little getaway." The blaze of anger twisted in Sojiro's gut, but Youji pressed on before he could fire back. "You really think social services will overlook what you're doing to that snot if someone called you in? Between some loser who barely knew her mother and her own flesh and blood, who do you think they're going to favor?" Sojiro couldn't help it. He flinched at the accusation, and Youji's snarl turned to a triumphant sneer. "I told you; we can both be comfortable with this arrangement."

"You're delusional." Sojiro grit his teeth. "I've barely got enough to get by as it is, let alone take care of your freeloading ass. You don't need to resort to threats, because I've got nothing to give you." His headache flared again, the streetlights blurring overhead and the chirp of his phone distorting to an incoherent echo.

Youji's smug voice cut through the pounding in Sojiro's temples. "I don't need to resort to anything, buddy. It's all up to you. Just treat me like a top patron, like your very favorite customer, and we can both get what we want."

"Screw you. Stay the hell away from Leblanc." This time Sojiro met no resistance as he turned his back, until approximately one step down the street as his headache upgraded into a great big bag of hammers rattling in his skull.

Doubling over in disorientation and pain, Sojiro could swear the ground was shifting underneath his feet. "Damn it--!" He sucked in a breath through his teeth, steeling himself against the air that seemed to thicken and grow hot around him. Of course he'd get the migraine of his life while dealing with Youji, of all fucking people. The last goddamn thing he needed was to black out in front of that son of a bitch.

The moment passed, an instant that felt like an hour, leaving behind only a nagging pressure behind Sojiro's eyes. With effort, he straightened up again.

Youji was gone. Sojiro stood alone in the street, with only his lingering headache and humiliation to accompany him.

"What a goddamn day..."

With heavy feet, Sojiro began the trudge home. It wasn't far, but with the conversation echoing in his ears it felt simultaneously too long and far, far too short. The idea looking at Futaba after confronting that man felt like an insult to the poor kid. Worse, he knew he'd made a fatal mistake in that argument; one little flinch at the accusation of neglect was all Youji would need to keep up the harassment. It was fitting; here Sojiro was, once again failing to protect her.

Cowardice won out again as Sojiro gave into his instinct to stall and avoid, detouring the route down a familiar side street.

"Better make sure the troublemaker hasn't burned the café down..." No one was around to hear the flimsy excuse, aside from Sojiro's own conscience.

No one at all.

It was lucky. Even in these cramped back streets away from the thoroughfare a few people would usually still be out and about at this hour, but it was uncommonly empty tonight. Sojiro was glad for the quiet. The deafening, eerie, absolutely unbroken quiet.

Sojiro's heavy steps stopped short as he looked up at Leblanc. More specifically, he looked where Leblanc was supposed to be.

Akira hadn't burned the café down.

But LeBlanc was gone.

Chapter Text

April 30

Bright lights shone up on the building, reaching high over the neighboring shops--high over any building in these dingy back alleys, with the exception of the gleaming white stone hotel that loomed overhead. Sojiro couldn't think to count the floors.

"Wh... what the..."

He looked around--surely someone else was seeing this, was just as bewildered by this impostor plopped over his shop--but no one was there. The streets were completely empty, silent but for the rattle of spotlights wavering back and forth in front of the pop-up hotel advertising its location for miles around. It wasn't that late. Some folks should still be milling around, seeing lights, coming to marvel, confirming Sojiro wasn't completely crazy.

Without any corroborating witnesses to assure him of his own sanity, however, he was running low on alternative options but for to confirm it for himself. Slowly he stepped towards the wide glass doors, lit from behind with an opaque orange glow. They immediately swung invitingly open into the warm light inside.

A hot breeze scented with salt and coconut oil greeted Sojiro as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He stared open-mouthed at the lobby before him; regardless of the hotel's impossible one-hour construction, the wide open room was at least triple the size of Leblanc's floorplan, and warm sunshine poured from a domed glass atrium overhead despite it having been the dead of night moments ago.

"How the hell--"

"Aloha~"

Sojiro's attention snapped from the impossible room and to the owner of the cheery and unfamiliar voice who had sidled up next to him. He jerked back. "Holy sh--"

"Welcome!" The voice was friendly in spite of his terribly rude reaction, but no hint of smile (nor indeed any expression at all) made it through the blank mask bolted to the stranger's face. Dark, purplish, insubstantial skin peeked from under the bright floral polo shirt and white slacks it wore, and one shadowy hand reached into the basket slung over its arm to pull out a lei. "We're so glad to have you at Leblanc Resort!" It dumped the flower necklace over Sojiro's head as he continued to gawp. "Please head to the front desk to check in and get your reservation information."

There was way, way, way too much information already coming way, way, way too fast at Sojiro. Going to a desk for more might properly short-circuit what little of his brain hadn't already fried on the spot. "Leblanc... Resort...?"

More details started to sink through the overstimulation; the ceiling lamps, identical to the ones in his café, now hung over wicker lounge chairs instead of the proper leather booths. His public phone had duplicated multiple times over in the far corner, next to a large display of pamphlets for tropical sights and tourist traps. More masked figures stood patiently at the aforementioned front desk, which matched his barista counter.

"This.... this can't be... Leblanc...?"

"Yes sir, you're in the right place! Please head over to our friendly reception desk to check in." The welcome staff threw a second lei over his neck. The scent of flowers ratcheted up so suddenly that it had an effect akin to smelling salts, pulling him out of shock and making room for new emotions, chiefly panic.

"No. No, I--this--this is my shop!" He'd lost it, the stress had finally broken him apart and taken reality with it. Somehow he had expected there to be a lot less beachwear involved, but that was his fault for having expectations of a nervous breakdown. "How the hell did this get here? I was just here, I--what did you do?!"

"Oh dear." The cheerful tone of the masked greeter remained unchanged behind its impassive mask. "We have a problem customer."

"I'm not a damn customer, I own this--"

"Security!"

Corners of the room bubbled with roiling shadow as yet more masked figures burst forth. They wore the same brightly colored floral shirts as the rest of the ethereal staff, with the addition of broad shoulders and muscles stretching the uniforms to their breaking point, and nice, shiny, professional sets of brass knuckles.

"What on earth--" Sojiro took a step back, and realized the greeter had made themself scarce as the shadowy security goons surrounded him. "Who the hell are you people, where did you come frohngkk--!" was as far as he got before one of the security shadows pounced on the bewildered barista and pinned him to the floor. The wind knocked out of him, which was a shame because he'd very nearly verged on asking something more coherent than "huh" or "what," but was now brought down to the level of "urk" and "hrrgh." His arm twisted painfully behind his back, helpfully adding "argh" to his available vocabulary.

With a little luck, however, someone new arrived on the scene to ask precisely the question Sojiro had been trying to get across.

"What's going on here?"

Immediately, the air changed in the lobby. Despite the tropical heat, a chill fell over the room. From his position on the floor and glasses knocked askew it was difficult for Sojiro to make out the source of the new voice, but he recognized it all too clearly. "Yngg?!" he asked the tiles of the floor, and the security guard responded by digging an elbow further into his back.

"Sir I am so, so sorry for the disturbance." The door greeter sounded just as bright and chipper as before, if one were to ignore the slightly frantic tone that had crept into their voice. "We'll take care of this matter, don't let it ruin your stay!"

"Hang on, now... Soji-kun, is that you?"

The familiarity of the voice, both in tone and nickname, sent Sojiro's stomach into knots. The pressure on his back alleviated, just enough to keep him from kissing the polished floor and lift his head to view the blurry shape that had moved in front of him. The lobby swam back into focus as his glasses were pressed back onto his face. Even from his position on the floor, he was granted... an eyeful.

"Y...Youji? What the hell are you wearing?"

The question was decidedly rhetorical, as Youji had graciously knelt down so his bright yellow speedo was more or less eye level with Sojiro. The man smiled with teeth that were too white from a face that was too tan, whiter and tanner than he'd been ten minutes ago. His eyes shone the same shade of yellow as his scarce swimwear, gleefully taking in the sight of Sojiro on the floor.

"What're you doing down here, Soji-kun? Don't tell me you've been slacking off."

"Wha... what the hell did you do to my damn shop, Youji?! What is all of this?" Sojiro made a valiant effort to squirm loose from his arm lock, and was rewarded with another twist of the arm to stop his writhing.

Youji heaved a dramatic sigh and stood, leaving Sojiro with only a long, long view of bare legs that gleamed with suntan oil. "Raising your voice to your star patron... I thought this was a classier establishment than that. I may have to make a complaint."

One of the staff members immediately put themself between Sojiro and Youji, blocking their view of one another. "Oh no sir, that won't be necessary sir, really! We'll take care of this right away sir, please don't worry, can I get you a fresh drink sir?" A second shadowy figure instantly stepped up with a colorful cocktail balanced on a tray.

Sojiro's vision was blurring again, even as his glasses dug into his face against the floor. A lei had gotten stuck on a temple, and half his view was taken up with flowers. The scent was making his head swim. The scent, or perhaps the situation itself. He couldn't wrap his brain around it--how could Youji have done this? How was his safe haven stolen away and twisted beyond recognition so quickly?

Was he just going to lie here and let it happen?

Youji brushed aside the fawning staff, clearing the way to allow himself a sneer down at Sojiro. "You know, Soji-kun, I always knew your prissy attitude was just an act, but I really thought you'd learned your lesson. If you can't mind your manners around your star customer, I shudder to think how you treat the vermin you let hunker down here."

His arm felt like it was breaking. His skull throbbed. His stupid lei was taking up more and more of his vision. "Don't... don't you talk about them like that...!"

"Frankly, this cheap motel of yours is a health hazard. The sort of scum you allow to hang around... it would be a favor to everyone if I shut it down. You'd live a longer life without all this stress weighing you down, Soji-kun. You've already got two stipends from the gutter rats, that should be plenty to keep us both happy."

All Sojiro could see was the red petals. "I said shut the hell up about those kids, or I'll shut you up myself!"

'What ho! So you've made your choice?'

The voice was cheerful, bright, and lanced straight through Sojiro's skull. Every throb and ache he'd had in the last week withered to pale twinges in comparison to the white-hot spike of the voice echoing in his head.

'You've done well to make it this far, lad.' It laughed softly at Sojiro's bellows of pain. 'But I think you've rather held back long enough.'

He had. He'd been held back. By his fears, by his grief. By people like Youji, who used his hesitancy against him. The pain surged down his spine, fire lancing through his muscles.

'Pretending can only serve you so far. It's time we defend all you've made, don't you think?'

Sojiro clutched at his head. Distantly, in the hazy background of a world outside his splintering skull, he could hear the thud of a security guard thrown against the far wall by his flailing.

'You were never in this for your comfort, chum. Let no contemptible scoundrel distract you from the reason all of this was built!'

The world had gone red. With pain, with agony, with the goddamn lei in his face. The smell was overwhelming, the floral scent the only sense that could breach the echoing, agonizing voice, drowning in perfume. Sojiro grasped at the flowers hung about his neck in a mockery of welcome to his own sanctuary.

'I am thou, thou art I... so call upon me, and my power!'

Petals scattered, wind whipping ravaged flowers about the room and throwing bewildered hotel staff back under the floral assault.

Sojiro staggered to his feet. His body felt.... wrong. Too small, too heavy. Like it wasn't built for him, for the strength newly crackling through his limbs. How long had he let this aching, aging form decide for him what was possible?

A shaking hand reached up to his face, to the gold embossed mask that had materialized and attached itself there. This thing was the problem, instinctively he knew. This mask was what had been holding him back, and he didn't need it anymore.

'SAY IT!'

"Come, Pimpernel!"

The pain of ripping the mask from raw flesh dwarfed under the blooming RELEASE. Old aches melted, years of strain left aside for vigor and power.

It was taking a breath after years of trying not to drown.

The tinkling laugh sounded again, no longer trapped inside his head. Sojiro looked up at the towering alien form standing sentinel above him. Pimpernel was a sylvan figure of twisted leaves of petals, face hidden under a tall hat but for the leering smile formed by a high collar. Somehow it stood even taller as he took it in, and twirled a cane held languidly in the fronds of a hand made of flowers.

The action drew Sojiro's gaze to his own hand, clad in a clean white glove and grasping a cane of its own.

"What... what do you think you're doing? Get rid of him!"

Sojiro glanced up at Youji, who was shoving shell-shocked guards forward. They all seemed much smaller than they had moments prior. Practically a joke.

He hefted his cane, the weight of it instantly familiar. Sojiro chuckled, smoothing the dark embroidered frock coat that had manifested at some point. It was starched and ironed and new, and had the comfort of a second skin. "Youji... you ought to know something, above all else."

The speedo-clad man snarled at him. "Shut up. All of you, get him out of my sight!"

Security guards rushed forward, and Sojiro pulled his sword out from the cane's sheath. Above him, Pimpernel mirrored the movement, and in tandem the pair rent their would-be assailants in twain, dissolving into gurgling wisps of darkness. A smile stretched across Sojiro's face, feral and hungry as his eyes, gleaming golden, met Youji's.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you deserve."

Youji's face drained of all the color he'd somehow gained in the last hour, and the door greeter leapt forward to put itself between them.

"Please don't worry sir, we'll handle the rabble!" The tone of anxiety it had masked with a chipper attitude had escalated to sounding downright manic. "Please enjoy the rest of your stay worry-free!"

The greeter's purplish shifting skin writhed and peeled away, revealing pale and smooth flesh beneath. Its shapeless staff uniform reshaped and shrank to little more than shiny latex boots and gloves, and a tight corset to emphasize its suddenly decidedly feminine features. Its impassive mask burned away to reveal a gorgeous face, full lips parted in a snarl full of pointed teeth. Leathery wings unfurled behind its back as it lifted from the ground.

"You have marred the relaxing environment of our resort." The new seductive lilt of its voice did little to diminish its malice. "For disturbing our finest patron's stay, you will be removed from the premises by force."

Sojiro bared his teeth in a smile. "I'll agree with this much--someone has spoiled the energy here, and I'm going to kick him out on his ass myself."

'Well said, chum! Show them your mettle!'

A shiver ran up Sojiro's spine, through his shoulder, down his arm. Instinctively he raised his hand and gave it a flick, and the shiver burst out of him in a wild gust of wind. The devilish foe was caught in the gale and let out a reverberating shriek as it was knocked back against the front desk that had once served as his own coffee bar.

'That's it. As long as we remain steadfast in our ideals, in the sanctuary we've made, we remain a rock amidst a storm. All their bluster is nothing to us!'

Sojiro was breathing hard, not from exhaustion but exhilaration. He looked up at Pimpernel, who grinned without a face. How could he have made himself so small for all these years? How had he managed it, when all this was inside of him?

The succubus got back into the air and lunged for him, snarling. Sojiro dove to one side and came up with his sword swinging, catching it across the chest. Its wail of anger and pain died in the air as the creature dissolved just as the security guards had done, wisps of darkness evaporating in sunshine.

The silence left in the wake of the supernatural tussle was absolute. Sojiro tried to catch his breath, Pimpernel still looming above him in the empty lobby. In the chaos, Youji had fled.

"Coward," Sojiro muttered. Not that he blamed anyone for running from a display like what he'd just given, it was just the abject truth about Youji in general. "He can't hide from me in Leblanc, whatever shape it's in."

He moved to chase after the so-called special guest, but the instant his foot left the ground the shadows roiled and writhed again, bursting with more masked security guards and staff members.

'Ah. Discretion may be the better part of valor, old boy.' Pimpernel's floral fingers tensed. 'Satisfying as thrashing these blaggards may feel, our sort works best out of sight, as it were.'

Sojiro grit his teeth. He could feel more of that energy whipping up inside him, eager to be released. He could take them one at a time, he was sure of it. But five, six, ten of them at once? Even with his newfound reserves of power, it would be a stupid choice. "But this is my café," he snarled. Was he just expected to abandon it?

'And so it shall remain, regardless of who sits inside. Unless, of course, we fall here.'

The shadowy figures were pressing in--his victory had made them hesitant at first, but it seemed they'd worked up their nerve and were moving to block his escape. It was now or never.

"Shit." With a final curse of defiance, Sojiro turned tail and ran from the alien lobby that was supposed to be his sanctuary.

With his aches and pains gone, his feet took him faster than they had in years, sprinting into the dark and empty streets, his brain running just as fast. Where was he supposed to go now? To Futaba? To the police? He skidded to a stop. Akira. Where had the kid gotten kicked out to, with the sudden remodeling? Was he on the street somewhere? Had they taken him, or--

"Sakura-san?"

He blinked. An old man was peering at him. A familiar face. Sojiro's brain struggled to shift gears, jumping from the mysterious fate of Leblanc and Akira to the ordinary neigbor who ran the second-hand shop down the street. As he stalled out, the elderly man gave a small smile.

"Out for a late-night run, is it? You should at least change out of your work shoes first, it'll hurt your feet."

"I..." Sojiro looked down. He was in his button-up and slacks. The frock, the frills, the cane had all vanished, not a thread out of place to indicate they'd existed in the first place. "I was just..."

"Come now, a tight budget's no excuse for your health. Trust me, your knees will thank you when you get to my age. I'll see if I've got any running shoes in your size tomorrow. Could you help me with closing the gate for the night?"

Sojiro stared at the old man. Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder. No sign of spotlights. No high-rise hotel breaking the skyline. It had all vanished into the gloom. Just like Pimpernel.

"...Yeah. Of course. Let me get that for you."

Everything was normal. Everything was perfectly fine. The strangest thing of the scene was how his back didn't creak as he reached up to pull down his neighbor's grate.

Adrenaline ebbed, and a wave of exhaustion crashed over Sojiro in its wake. Dread pooled in his stomach. Whether it was the café or his own grip on reality, something was very, very wrong.

Chapter Text

April 25

Tae Takemi glanced up from her papers as the front door opened. An eyebrow rose up under her bangs.

The café owner from down the street was certainly a familiar face, though usually they were on opposite sides of the counter. The man was making a bit of a show of looking around the small waiting room, evidently still hesitant about being there even after breaching the threshold. Tae watched him hem and haw for a moment before he finally noticed her behind the desk.

"Ah... hi there."

"Do you do coffee runs now, or do you need something?"

The barista chuckled. Tae hadn't been trying to joke, but he seemed eager for an excuse to lighten the mood he'd made. "No, no deliveries. But I can maybe drop something off later."

"I prefer money in exchange for my services." Tae crossed her arms. One of the things she liked about Leblanc was that service didn't feel the need to be chatty or friendly, and she hardly wanted to change that relationship now in her own clinic. "So unless you came for a chat..."

"Right." He rubbed at his neck. "Sorry. Any chance you, ah, have time for an exam?"

Her eyebrow climbed higher. "Normally patients make an appointment. Doctors aren't typically awash with free time for walk-ins."

The man blinked at her. She caught his eyes darting down to the open book of sudoku puzzles on her desk. "Ah-huh. Sure, sorry. Later in the week is fine--"

The doctor rolled her shoulders as she stood. "You caught me at a good time. Come in." Tae opened the door to the exam room without further preamble. The man fixed her with a look. Skepticism. It was a more familiar starting place for her than whatever chummy atmosphere he'd been attempting to manufacture. Perhaps she was overstating how much of a 'good time' he'd caught her at, with her weeks-long migraine at a low and constant buzz. Would that she could lock the door, turn the lights off, and focus on her notes, but payment came before comfort.

"Sakuto-san, wasn't it?" Tae threw herself into her chair as he perched on the exam table.

"Sakura. Sojiro Sakura. Or Boss, if that's easier to remember."

"You can be Boss at your café. Over on this side of the street, you get your name." She clicked her pen and pulled her clipboard into her lap. "What's the issue, Sakura-san?"

To Sakura's credit, he took the rebuff in stride. "Headaches. They started a couple days ago, and have been on and off since. I was hoping they'd ease up on their own, but..."

"But medicine would help."

Sakura shrugged, leaning his elbows on his lap. "I figured as much."

Tae hummed as she jotted down the symptoms. "Migraines can have many causes, and medicine isn't always the solution. Cutting down on caffiene can help, for example."

"Cute."

"I'm not joking." She clicked her pen a few more times. "It would be easier to treat if I knew the cause. Do you have any other symptoms?"

Sakura drummed his fingers against his knees as he thought it over. "Let's see... my vision's gotten blurry a couple times? Regardless of these." He tapped at his glasses. "Light goes sort of... colorful, I guess."

Tae stopped clicking her pen. They weren't uncommon symptoms on their own, and yet. "When, exactly, did you first notice this?"

"Two nights ago. Had a heck of a time falling asleep with my head throbbing."

"No history of occular migraines?"

"Occuwhat?"

She nodded, noting the details down. "Well, as I said, it could be a lot of things. Stress, dehydration, sleep deprivation. Changes in diet, overstimulation."

"You don't say." It was hard to gauge if Sakura was actually taking in her words or had tuned her out and was just waiting for the drugs to come. With her patient base, it was generally the latter. To be fair, this was about where Tae's own patience for maintaining professionalism typically ran out, and that was without the way the flourescent lights had started to bore into her retinas and set her temples ringing. She sighed and started scribbling out a prescription.

"I can get you some painkillers, but other than that my advice is to get some rest and stay somewhere cool and dark. No phones or screens." Messing with her own phone had certainly made her own headache worse.

"Right... well, running a business around here isn't too stressful at least, huh?"

Tae fixed Sakura with a stare until his grin flickered and he broke eye contact.

"Okay. Yeah. Painkillers sounds good."

She sighed and began picking through drawers for pills. She really had preferred him as the nameless guy on the other side of the coffee counter, where both of them stayed quiet and anonymous. Locating a bottle of acetemenaphin, Tae gave it a brief shake to make sure it wasn't one she'd been taking her own doses from. She hesitated before handing it off.

"And, Sakura-san?"

He looked at her. She chewed on her lip. It was probably a coincidence. Whose life wasn't a headache these days, anyway? Comparing his symptoms with hers introduced far too much personal bias to draw a conclusion from. She just wanted to go back to her sudoku.

"If any further symptoms develop, let me know."

May 1

Tae Takemi had barely gotten the time to check any messages that had come in overnight (none) before the office's front door swung open with a clatter and a disshevelled barista barreled in.

"The symptoms got worse."

Over at Leblanc, Tae had always gotten an impression of Sakura as someone relatively put together. Boring, a bit low-achieving maybe, but comfortable and confident with where he'd landed. It was fascinating, how the impression could so drastically change just a few doors down the street.

Tae, for her part, was polite enough not to stare. Though she wasn't polite enough for much past that. "No kidding. You look terrible."

Sakura had dark bags under his eyes, and his lips were chapped. Judging by the unkempt state of his hair, he'd been running his hands through it so much that he might be manually accelerating the balding process. Despite her jab, he was fixing her with the most desperate puppy-dog look she'd ever seen on someone his age. "I know you generally work by appointment, but, if you can fit me in..."

With a sigh, Tae picked up her clipboard and stood up from the front desk, waving him towards the exam room. "Come on in."

Despite his desperation to get an exam, Sakura seemed hesitant to sit down, even as Tae fell unceremoniously into her own chair. "So, you've continued having issues with migraines?"

"What?" He was glancing around the room. It took a moment for him to hear her question. "Oh, the--no. No, the headaches are gone. Now. Today. I mean, they got worse, but I had some sort of... episode, last night. And then they stopped."

"I see." Interesting. Tae's own headaches had largely quieted down, only really resurfacing when she started messing around on her phone. Maybe she really had jumped the gun in comparing their cases... or perhaps Sakura's advanced age was giving the condition a faster rate of development? Her brow furrowed. She really shouldn't be assuming their experiences were at all related, but the hunch nagged at her, baseless as it may be. She shook off the distraction. "Well. Tell me about this episode of yours."

Sakura eyed her. "Confidentially, right?"

Tae raised an eyebrow. "...Yes."

He fell silent again. The silence went long enough that Tae considered he really may have changed his mind and would go and leave without another word, but finally the dam broke.

"I had a... some kind of hallucination. A really, really big one. One of those... illusions of greatness?"

"Delusions of grandeur," Tae hazarded, and he nodded.

"It was like reality around me changed. Not just the appearance, I could hear and feel and smell the difference." He wrung his hands. "I tried to tell myself it was a dream, or something, but... it was just... so real."

Tae wrote her notes with careful, casual disinterest. The reason for Sakura's hesitation had come into sharp focus, and she didn't want to spook him off by letting her thoughts show on her face. "Did anything happen before this began? Anything that could have triggered a reaction?"

"...Yeah. I had a... a pretty stressful night. Got into a bad argument with an old acquaintance who was, uh, pretty central in the hallucination. He took over Leblanc, changed it, had the... the new staff, I guess, all attack me. And I... fought them off, sort of, and ran out. And then everything was normal again."

Tae nodded, calm and measured, still avoiding eye contact in favor of studying her notes. She had to pick her words very, very carefully. "Thank you for your candor. I'm sure talking about such an experience is difficult, even when asking for help. In my professional opinion..." He leaned forward, dark-rimmed eyes wide and desperate. She looked up from her clipboard at him. "...I'm not a psychiatrist. So I don't have a professional opinion." She had lots of unprofessional ones, but she doubted he'd like to hear those.

Sakura deflated. "Ah."

"Sorry." She shrugged. "I can give you some relaxants, but if you want someone to tell you if you've lost your marbles or not you'll need to visit a doctor with a specialty in therapeutic or cognitive sciences."

He shifted. It was a subtle motion, but somehow it changed the man's entire demeanor; a sharpness in his eye, an energy in the set of his shoulders. "Cognitive."

"Mmhmm. It means dealing with perception, judgment, and memory..." Tae trailed off. Sojiro was nodding along, but his eyes were far away. "I've got some pamphlets, if you need...?"

"So you don't know about cognitive psience?"

"Sorry. It's not my field of study." A droning buzz started in the back of her skull. Tae rubbed at a temple.

"But you've heard of some?"

Tae tried very, very hard to restrain the urge to roll her eyes, and didn't quite succeed. Plenty laymen came to her asking for treatment and advice outside her expertise; to distressingly many, all PhDs seemed the same. "Sakura-san. I cannot, in good conscience, advise you based on anything psychiatric." She laid her clipboard in her lap. "I know you've heard rumors about me, but matters of the mind are just too far out of my wheelhouse to mess around with."

Her frankness did, at least, seem to break through whatever train of thought Sakura had gotten stuck on. He blinked a few times at her, brow creasing. "But you're fine messing about in your own wheelhouse...?"

She shrugged, unapolagetic. "You have to know the rules to break them, and I know a lot of rules when it comes to physical medicine. Psychiatric medicine, though, is something I very much prefer not to break. The best I can offer you is a referral." She pulled out her phone to check her contacts. Despite what she'd said, she wasn't sure she had many, if any, connections left who would accept a patient she recommended...

"No, no. Sorry, that's not--It was just a one-time event, I don't want to resort to anything like that."

Typical. Bring up therapy and suddenly it was just a silly little optical illusion, nothing to worry about. The buzzing in Tae's head picked up in frequency, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to ignore the droning tinnitus and focus on the disregulated man in her clinic refusing appropriate treatment.

"What's that?"

Her attention snapped back to Sakura. "What's what?" For a split second, she wondered if he could hear the buzzing as well.

He pointed at her phone, expression blank. "That program."

"Pro...?" She glanced down at the screen, then back up at him. "App?"

His nod was distant, distracted. "Yeah. The app. What is it?"

Tae scowled, and turned the phone to face down on her desk. "With all due respect, Sakura-san, my phone is my own business."

"No, I just--" He jerked out of whatever personal reverie he'd sunk into as he dug through his own pockets. "It flashed for a second, and I recognized it--the same app's on mine, see?" He held his phone up, pointing to the screen. "You had this on your phone, didn't you? I couldn't figure out how it got on mine, and my--and no one could tell me. What is it?"

"You came in for a psychological breakdown, not an IT check." Despite her dismissal, Tae squinted at the app he'd pointed out. Sure enough, it was familiar... rather, Sakura's confusion with it was familiar. She'd figured it for some random bloatware her cellular provider wouldn't let her delete. "When did you get this?"

"A week or so ago."

A suspicion rose. A crazy one. "Before or after the headaches started?"

"Uh. I'm not really sure. Around the same time?"

Correlation was not causation. Two points of data were not enough for a conclusion. Also, it was an insane hypothesis to even consider in the first place. "May I?" She didn't wait for an answer, but he didn't object as she plucked his phone from his hand which was close enough to informed consent in her book. She tapped at the red eye on his screen. Lights overhead flared in intensity, and she sucked a breath in through her teeth.

"Are you all right?" Sakura was at the very edge of the exam table, gripping its underside with white knuckles. Tae pointedly ignored the question.

"What's this bookmark you've got saved?"

"Wha... I've barely touched it, there shouldn't be anything saved in there."

"Well, there is. It's got your café on it an everything. Youji Isshiki, Leblanc, resort." She tapped at it.

If Sojiro had a reaction, Tae missed it due to the way the world around them pulsed. Pain bloomed behind her eyes for a split second, the air growing hot and the droning buzz drowning out all other noises for a moment even as the light dimmed around them.

"--ened?! Takemi-san, are you all right?"

She winced as Sakura's voice slowly faded in through the headache, rattling against her ears from the inside out. "I'm fine, it's just a--what are you wearing?"

Sakura blinked at her through the venetian mask he had evidently slipped on during her moment of distraction. He glanced down at the hand he'd reached out to her--gloved in white, at the end of a very frilly sleeve--and then down at the velvet costume that he had, apparently, also slipped into. She'd only been distracted for a few seconds, hadn't she? How could he have possibly...?

The questions didn't quite make it up to her mouth in time, as suddenly Sakura lurched to his feet and bolted out of the room. Tae heard the front door of the clinic bang open.

Her head throbbed. A sticky heat had settled in the room. The buzzing hadn't stopped. Slowly, Tae got to her feet and trudged after Sakura.

She didn't have far to go; he'd stopped right outside, gawping down the street. Tae stopped beside him and followed the gaze.

Across the street and down the alleyway a massive building erupted above the rest of the neighborhood, higher even than some of the skyscrapers on the skyline. In case it wasn't notable enough, spotlights danced around it in advertisement.

Slowly, Tae turned back to Sakura. "Is this along the lines of the hallucination you had?"

His breathing was shallow; she doubted he heard her. "It... all of it... this is real...?"

Tae glanced Sakura and his inexplicable outfit up and down, before looking again to the equally inexplicable building across the street.

"I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist."

Chapter Text

"I'm telling you, this place is dangerous." Sojiro stood arms akimbo, blocking entry to the hotel for one deeply uncooperative doctor. It would be nice to have this conversation anywhere other than in front of the glass doors to a teleporting hotel full of shadow creatures, but Dr. Takemi wasn't budging. "They tried to break my arm just for walking in." Well, for walking in and making a bit of a scene, but that was beside the point. "I don't want to know how much they've escalated since I summoned a monster in their lobby."

At the very least, that comment got Dr. Takemi to stop trying to peek around Sojiro and give him her full attention. "If you're trying to make me less curious, you're doing a pretty piss poor job." She crossed her arms. "Here I thought you came to me for help."

"That was when I thought I was having a nervous breakdown. What happened to not going outside your wheelhouse?"

"That was when I thought you were having a nervous breakdown." She glanced over his outfit. "That's not fully off the table, though. Whatever this is, we're either experiencing simultaneous cognitive idiosyncrasies, or this is all really happening. Whichever way, it's scientifically fascinating and I intend to research it."

Sojiro furrowed his brow. "Scientifically fascinating, huh. Which part of your degree covers disappearing and reappearing architecture?"

Dr. Takemi rolled her eyes. "Fine. It's regular fascinating. Aren't you curious? Or did your sense of adventure get used up putting on velvet pants?"

He flushed under his gold embossed mask. "You're the last person I want to hear fashion critique from, Doc." Even if he hadn't consciously picked the outfit himself, the criticism touched a nerve he hadn't realized was there. He knew he ought to feel silly in something so frilly and posh, but instead wearing it made him feel... powerful. What was it any business of some punk with a doctorate if he felt good wearing something a bit absurd?

An inane laugh echoed from somewhere deep inside Sojiro's head. 'Being understood is overrated. Let her judge you all she likes; it shan't change the truth of your conviction.'

He took a deep breath. Another thing that should be concerning (or at the very least annoying) but proved to be an inexplicable comfort; if all the rest of last night's chaos had been real, so was the vigilante dryad in short pants squatting in his soul.

Smirking and fiddling idly with her choker to show off her superior fashion sense, Dr. Takemi gave a shrug. "You'll hear plenty more from me if you keep being so stubborn. I'm being very patient with you right now." Her tone was light, which somehow made the threat from a woman a head shorter and a decade his junior much more effective.

Sojiro squared his shoulders and drew himself up. "Look. Whatever this is, it's happening to my café, so it's my own business. I'll... pay you for the consultation this morning, but from here on out it's none of your concern."

Dr. Takemi tilted her head to one side, and something in her gaze softened. "It's my concern if it gets in the way of my morning coffee, Boss."

Whatever argument Sojiro had been expecting, he hadn't braced for that one. He took pride in Leblanc, sure, but it wasn't too often he thought of it as something important to anyone aside from himself. He made good coffee and great curry, but his own attitude scared more customers off than he could really afford. He certainly wasn't such a good host to inspire that sort of loyalty in his regulars--they came to him because he was there, he was convenient, he was reliable. That was enough for him, but...

"I... appreciate that. But I just--son of a bitch."

In Sojiro's moment of sentimentality, Dr. Takemi had used his lowered guard to duck around him and vanish through the hotel doors.

"Goddamn it. Goddamn it! Does she think I'm warning her for chivalry's sake?!" He couldn't just run in there behind her after the scene he'd made yesterday--it was impossible to see what was going on behind that glowing portal at the front doors, but if he went in after her he was sure to make whatever situation she was in worse. But the alternative was leaving the doctor to fend for herself. He tried pinch the bridge of his nose, but his mask got in the way.

'Calm yourself. Haste only blinds you to opportunity.'

"Great, thanks. What's your big idea then, bud?" Without someone else here--someone physical, at least--doubts of his sanity were bubbling up again. It was hard not to, while talking to a psychic demon.

'Need I do it for you? Open your eyes, chum. The path is before you already.'

"Brilliant." Sojiro raised his head to take stock. Up to this point he hadn't actually looked at the hotel; he'd been a bit too distracted by it usurping Leblanc's address to take in many details beyond its dizzying height. It was, he was displeased to note, a very pretty building, dotted with open walkways along the higher floors and stone planters with draping flora to break up the white stone. Now that he paid attention, it wasn't a straight shot up; the front area was only one or two stories up, before getting to the main building, and as he took a couple steps back, he could just make out the top of a structure over where the lobby would be.

The atrium. He'd seen the glass dome from inside--it would be an easy vantage point to keep an eye on things without drawing undue attention. All he had to do was scale a couple floors of a building. Easy.

Doctor Takemi's next coffee had better come with a hell of a tip.

Maybe, Sojiro reflected, it was better he'd been left alone out here. No one was around to see his ungainly and awkward efforts to hoist himself up on the first of the planters jutting out six feet off the ground. Pimpernel had soothed a lot of the old creaks and pains this body had accumulated over the years, but this venture was sure to give him plenty of brand new aches. It probably would have been better for him and Takemi both if he'd just gone in the front door and endured another dogpile.

Finally, he pulled himself up to the roof. He caught his breath with only minimal wheezing, and leaned against the atrium. Now came the hard part.

The lobby below certainly looked sedate from up here. The most movement he could see from this vantage point was a masked figure in a bellhop uniform taking its break on the mezzanine with a game of solitaire. Down on the ground floor a few figures stood stationary behind their desks, and across from one stood a dark-haired figure in a white coat. Sojiro breathed a sigh. It could have been a relieved sigh that she was unhurt or an exasperated sigh that she hadn't gotten out of there, but it was definitely a sigh and not one more wheeze to catch his breath.

Dr. Takemi looked relaxed--or, he was pretty sure she did. The bird's eye view was good for getting the lay of the land, not so much for expressions or body language. Sojiro skirted around the edge of the dome for a better angle. The desk staff across from Takemi had a phone where its ear was supposed to be. It nodded a couple times, before hanging up, gesturing to the doctor, and walking out from behind the reception area. Takemi nodded back, and followed after. Sojiro grit his teeth as the two of them headed down a hallway.

"What the hell are you thinking?" He hissed through the glass. Even if Takemi could have heard, he would bet good money she would have ignored him. All that work he'd done to get up here and keep an eye on her, just for her to saunter off where he couldn't see.

Sojiro's eyes darted around the rooftop. There had to be some way in. Some way that ideally didn't involve scaling more floors from the outside. He seriously doubted he could handle much more of that in this sticky heat, especially while wearing a velvet suit.

The heat. It had been warm in the hotel too, hadn't it? It wasn't air conditioned, but it hadn't been sweltering either... there had been a warm breeze running through the lobby. Which meant there must be open windows somewhere.

Running along the rooftop's edge, Sojiro did his best to ignore the thirty-foot drop as he peered down for open windows. Forget a tip, he was going to charge Takemi double for life.

Tae leaned back in her pool chair and let out a long breath. Around her, hazy figures in swimsuits laughed and splashed in crystiline blue waters and lounged in the sun shining on the courtyard. If she squinted, she could almost recognize one or two of them from the café. If one were to ignore the sudden appearance of the hotel, the impossible space taken up by the floorplan in the middle of a cramped Tokyo block, and the unnervingly chipper faceless masked drones, this was really quite relaxing. A person could get used to this, so long as they were very good at not thinking too much.

Meanwhile, her thoughts were going a mile a minute, and not even the increasing thrum of her headache could slow it down. It had taken a lot of restraint not to pull her phone out and start typing up observations as soon as she'd stepped into the hotel lobby, but now that she had a second to herself she wasn't sure her thumbs could move fast enough to keep up with her brain.

She looked at her phone. The red-eyed app was still staring back at her. Correlation still was not causation, but now she and Sakura had a few more points in common; the same bookmarked location from Sakura's phone had shown up on hers. Youji Isshiki, Leblanc, resort. If this app was really responsible for warping her to some sort of parallel reality, those were the three points in need of research. The relevance of "Leblanc" and "resort" had been obvious enough to start, which just left one central puzzle piece to investigate. With a little luck, she could get eyes on him before long and start making some proper hypotheses.

A dark shape fell over Tae, and she glanced up at her best alternative for answers on research point number two. Sojiro Sakura was breathing hard, red-faced and glowering. She offered him her most innocent smile, which admittedly wasn't terribly innocent.

"Nice of you to join me. Should I order another drink? They fetched me a lovely ice coffee." She raised the glass in a mock toast. "Not quite as good as yours, but the ambiance makes up for it."

"Have you lost your mind?" Sakura hissed. "Did you not see those shadowy things in there?"

"I did. They were very polite." She swirled her straw in her glass, ice cubes clinking. "A good deal more hospitable than I'm used to around here, honestly. This place could be good for the neighborhood."

The man went rigid. Tae could see him counting between breaths. Good, he wasn't too easy to get a rise out of. She needed him worked up, not apoplectic.

"This isn't a game, Doctor." Sakura eyed the people playing in the pool. If any of them registered their local barista's arrival, it hadn't interrupted their fun in the sun.

"Says the one playing dress-up." Tae rolled her eyes and took a sip of her iced coffee. "I'm the one trying to get answers. If you're too busy with the gentleman act to give me any hints about your shop's mysterious transformation, then I've got to look for them somewhere else."

"I don't have any hints for you," Sakura lied. "I got attacked for asking questions. I'm trying to protect you from the same thing."

The two of them glowered at each other. Slowly, Tae put aside her drink and pushed herself forward on the lounge chair, not breaking eye contact. "So that's it? You got some pushback, so you're not going to look any further into what happened to your shop. Is that all it takes for you to give up, Boss?"

"Don't." He jabbed a finger at her. "You can't pull that twice. I'm going to handle this myself. I'm not letting someone else get involved in my own problems."

"Sure. You've done a great job stopping me and everyone else so far." Tae's posture slackened, and she fell back into her chair again. "Can't wait to see your brilliant plan in action. I'll just be here, comparing their coffee to yours." She picked up her glass for another sip, but paused. Pursing her lips, she made a real show of a thought 'occurring' to her, and reached into a pocket. "Oh, you might want this. They had them for free in the lobby, but since you can't seem to get in there..." She brandished the brochure she'd been generously offered, complete with a layout of the first few floors of the hotel. "The informational desk really is quite useful."

Sakura's eye twitched. Mask or no mask, the conflict was obvious on his face. Practicality won out over pride, and he snatched the document from her hand.

"Fine. Fine. What's your plan, huh?" He snapped, unfolding the pamphlet.

Tae tried not to smirk in triumph. She didn't try very hard. She thought about trying, at least. "It's fairly simple. It involves asking questions without causing a fuss." She glanced over her shoulder, back towards the lobby. "I told them I'm the VIP's on-call doctor. He should be down to meet with me before long, and from there I'll be able to grill him on how he got this place set up. While he's down here, you'll be free to take a look around and see what you can dig up without him ordering any goons after you."

Sakura did not seem suitably impressed. "You're... meeting with Youji?"

"He's the one whose name was on the app. Unless you know someone else who might explain how a phone can open up an alternate reality, he's the best lead available."

Sakura was silent for a moment. "Yeah... yeah. Dealing with him is the best option."

Tae waited a moment, just in case Sakura felt like elaborating on whatever connection he had with this mystery patron, but of course no explanation was forthcoming. She sighed. "Glad we see eye to eye." Tae waved a hand to him. "So, would you mind making yourself scarce? It will be hard to talk with him if the local troublemaker is standing around."

"I'm not the local--" Sakura stopped himself mid-pout. Muttering something under his breath, he pushed his mask up. "Are you sure about this? If things get hairy..."

"Then I'll get out of here. Happy?"

"Not remotely," he huffed. "Seriously, keep yourself safe, all right?"

"Yes, Boss." Tae waved him off again, looking back to her phone. She had a lot of notes to try and type up before things hit the fan, and he was being a terrible distraction. By the time she glanced up to take another drink of her iced coffee, Sakura had obligingly vanished. She put the glass down with relief. It really didn't taste nearly as good as the stuff in Leblanc proper.

As casual as she'd been about describing the plan, Tae knew it was a bit of a long shot. She'd been lucky enough the freakish staff had taken her word for it that she had an appointment with this Youji guy and allowed her in, but the second half of the plan--him actually coming to see a doctor he hadn't scheduled--counted on him being a bit of an idiot, and anyone who set up this whole scenario under everyone's nose was no moron. Best case scenario, Sakura would be able to dig up something of use while she got an hour or two of sun in, and they could slip out unnoticed. Worst case...

"And who, exactly, are you supposed to be?"

...he was an idiot who got curious about his unplanned visitor.

Tae stood up from her chair and took in the man who had arrived poolside. He was just barely dressed in enough to keep himself decent, which gave plenty to take in. Late 40s, trying to cover it up with a dark tan. Stocky with functional muscle, just enough of a gut to obscure a bulging speedo. He was fixing her with a warm smile that went nowhere close to his beady yellow eyes. Looking into those eyes made a sharp pain go through her temples, but she couldn't let it show. He was taking her in at the same time, she could tell.

"Isshiki-san, I presume." Tae bowed her head, and offered him a business card from her coat. "Doctor Tae Takemi. The hotel asked me to come and ensure your health needs are taken care of for as enjoyable a stay as possible."

"Well, isn't that some primo service?" Youji laughed as he plucked the card from her hand. It was a warm and friendly sound, and it made her skin crawl. "I do appreciate the initiative. Good to know these suck-ups can use their brains once in a blue moon." He stretched his back. "'Course, I keep myself pretty well taken care of. What, exactly, is it that you offer, Doc?"

Tae kept her face carefully blank. "Routine exams. I can advise you on an exercise regimen, or--"

"Or write me a prescription or two, is that it?" Youji closed the space between them. He was closer than she'd like. She didn't like that frozen smile he kept so firmly in place. His voice dropped lower. "I won't say I'm not interested. Like I said, I appreciate initiative. But I don't really care for that way you're eyeing me up, Doc."

Tae took a few pointed steps back. "You're mistaken, sir."

"Right, right." He gave another jolly chuckle. "Professionalism. You want a private room to strike a deal, right? Then you can say I tried something weird and threaten me with it. I'm no idiot, lady. I've seen your sort around. Women who think they're so much smarter than the losers fawning over them."

Further observations to put on his mental chart: paranoid, with an inferiority complex. Tae tried to keep her face impassive as she glanced around. The distantly familiar figures in the pool had vanished, making themselves scarce. She'd been counting on the public setting to keep things civil. "I'm just a doctor, Isshiki-san. I'm here for your health."

"Fuckin' spare me." Youji's grin had turned sharp. "There's nothing I hate more than a pompous bitch who thinks she can just wrap me around her finger and get what she wants. You better start talking fast, brainiac. Tell me how you're going to make this worth my time. Go on, impress me. Otherwise you better hope the staff can call up a real doctor."

Tae's brain whirred, searching for an excuse. Things had gone south faster than anticipated. At the very least she'd hoped the man stable enough to avoid making a scene, but barring that--

"Back the hell off, Youji."

A dark figure dropped between them. Tae blinked at Sakura as he came up from a roll and pulled out an actual sword. Of course he had a sword. Why wouldn't the coffee shop owner from down the street do parkour with a sword? "What the hell are you--" she hissed through her teeth at him. "Did you even try to look around?! I've got this handled, Sakura!"

Youji sighed, his grin dropping back to that insincere friendliness. "Soji-kun. Why am I not surprised. You're so fuckin' predictable--first Wakaba, now this haughty broad?"

"Back. Off." Sakura levelled his blade at Youji. "You might have the rest of this place under your thumb, but you're not laying a finger on her."

"You think so, huh..." Youji gave a broad shrug, shaking his head. "I've told you enough times, Sojiro. You're not the one in charge around here."

He snapped his fingers, and there was a burst of dark flame around them. Tae had kept her cool through a lot of craziness in the last couple of hours, but a dozen masked people in swimsuits labeled "LIFE GUARD" appearing out of spontaneous flame was a bit too much. She let out a yell of shock, even as Sakura ran one of the shadowy assailants from the ether through with his actual real sword. She caught brief sight of a nine-foot thing made from flowers appear over him as a gale of wind knocked down another of the masked brutes. Her head throbbed again.

This, Tae decided, was officially hairier than she could justify sticking around for. She turned and leapt over her pool chair, making a run for the gate at the pool's entry. Just as she was reaching for the latch, more dark fire erupted around her and sent her staggering backwards and directly into the grip of yet another goon. She yelped as hulking, purple arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. "Get the hell off--!" She squirmed in the grasp of her sudden assailant, but it held her firm.

"Doctor--!" Sakura yelled out, but his own hoard of guards blocked any effort to close the distance between them.

"What did I tell ya, Soji-kun. See how fast she turned tail on you?" Youji casually sauntered up to Takemi. He was twirling her business card between his fingers. She could see flashes of light from the mob around Sakura. She couldn't count how many there were around him, though she could hear him grunt in pain as more hits landed home.

"I don't know him," Tae blurted. She squirmed again against the grip of the guard. Its skin was unnaturally cold against hers. "That weirdo's got nothing to do with me. I'm sorry for showing up here, but don't bring him into it, all right?"

Youji's laughter cut her off. It was a different sound than the forcefully warm laugh he'd let out before, dry and rough. He was looking down at her business card. "Ohhhohoho man. Hold on a second. I thought maybe you were a drug peddler using some name you heard on the news, trying to sound legitimate without looking it up. But you're really that hack?!" A cold pit opened in Tae's stomach. "That's right, I've heard of you. Sojiro might not keep up with the latest scams and scandals, but there was a real hubbub about your fuckup a while back. You thought a guy like me wouldn't have heard, huh? That's sloppy, sister. Real sloppy."

She slowed her breathing. "It doesn't matter if you've heard of me before. I've got nothing to hide." This was fine, actually. This was familiar territory. People judged her for her past mistakes all the time. If anything, it was a boon to be so infamous that people distrusted her. It meant she was left alone. Maybe it would even convince Sakura to get out of there. "As I said. I'm Doctor Tae Takemi. And I'm here to offer my services. There's no need for this... " She tried to find the appropriate word. Lunacy? Sorcery? Surreality? Bullshit?? "...hostility."

"Your services, huh." Youji's unnervingly bright eyes bore into her. She refused to look away. "I see the game now. Getting patients hooked on your drugs so you can bleed 'em dry, calling it medicine all the while?"

The buzzing had started in Tae's ears again. The vicegrip around her chest was very, very tight. "...What?"

"It's a slick con, I'll give it to you. Probably even easier now that you got your own practice, right? Must be a relief to be outta the hospitals where you got people holding you accountable. I heard it was some kid that got you booted? Shame, that. You could've milked her parents for ages if she hadn't ODed."

"That wasn't..." Tae's vision swam. "It wasn't like that."

She should be angry at the accusation, she knew. She should be feeling something other than a yawning, gnawing pit in her gut. He was wrong, it hadn't been like that, but... the truth wasn't anything to be prideful about. She couldn't get indignant when it was her sloppiness that put a child in a coma.

"Hey, I'm not judging. Tell you what, if you get me a slice of that pie, I won't even report you for it."

Was he even all that wrong? She'd told herself she wasn't like her old boss, putting patients on an assembly line, but... she sure as shit hadn't been treating any of her current patients any better. Throw pills at them until they leave her alone. Who cared how lazy she was now, if she could make up for her last mistake? She could half-ass as much as she wanted, as long as she kept to the idea that a single success would justify it.

"Takemi!" Sakura bellowed over the droning buzz that seemed to have filled the courtyard. "Snap out of it! Don't listen to him!"

He didn't even know what she was doing to his employee.

"Still, maybe I gave you too much credit." Youji's patronizing smile gleamed unnaturally white. "Any halfway decent scam artist wouldn't go to pieces as soon as someone calls them out on their bullshit. You thought you were too good to get caught again, but you didn't expect a canny guy like me!"

"Pull yourself together, Takemi!" Sakura's voice was strained behind the wall of guards. "He doesn't know you!"

"I think he does," she murmured. It was to herself, really. "Most people think they know about me. About the Plague. But it didn't matter, because they had the details wrong. That's how I pushed it all aside." She clenched a fist. "Being looked down on is easy. No one expects much of a fraud. All my old colleagues... all the mentors I looked up to... all the patients who I chased away with my reputation... if they hate me, it's because they aren't as smart as I thought they were. They never really knew me. I can live with that."

Tae's chest hurt. Like the air she was breathing in was too much for it to contain. Like something was ready to pop. "But now, hearing you blather on about things you don't understand... realizing I have something, anything in common with an imbecile like you... really makes me realize how deeply pathetic I've been."

Youji said something. Or maybe it was Sakura. The buzzing in her ears was too loud for her to make anything out.

"So I'm done making excuses for myself!" She stomped on the foot of the guard holding her fast, her heel digging into its bare skin. The thug let out a warbling cry of pain, and loosened its grip just enough for her to jab an elbow into its solar plexus. It staggered back, wheezing, and she wrenched herself from its grasp. Youji was too stunned to move, the guards were distracted with Sakura, and Tae had a clear path to the gate.

Tae ran along the pool's edge towards the hoarde surrounding Sakura. "And I'm done ignoring people who need my help!"

'Do you mean that?'

The voice was soft, quiet, and it split her skull. She landed on her heel wrong, and as pain wracked her, she realized she was falling sideways into the pool. The water hit Tae's shoulder like a bed of needles, and her scream of pain came out as roiling bubbles.

'It's ugly, heartbreaking, relentless work. Are you going to commit to such misery?'

It didn't matter that she couldn't breathe--she was too busy screaming to try and draw in a breath. The water around her frothed and churned. She was weightless down here, but only because all the pressure was centered in her head, pulsing with each word.

'Rejection is the least of the prices paid for becoming an inconvenience. But if you're certain, then let us swear to each other.'

Her shoulders touched the bottom of the pool, and Tae gripped at it for something, anything solid to hold on to as the world splintered inside her head. The concrete cracked under her desperate grip.

'I am thou, thou art I.'

Her ears popped, and the pain came to a sudden dizzying stop. Tae's free hand reached up to her face. Old leather met her touch. A long, stitched beak protruded in front of her. She blinked through the glass panes over her eyes. The surface was so far away, but it wasn't the water that was suffocating her, was it?

Her fingers scrabbled for the edge of the plague mask. That's right. She was the Plague. She had bore that title like a warning sign, blamed it for her isolation and misery. It was time she used it to inoculate herself.

'If you'll stand by something as wretched as me, then I'll lend you my power as well.'

Her grip tightened against the oppressive leather mask, and the pool went red around her as she tore it out from her flesh. With the last of her breath Tae screamed out, and the water parted from the force of her cry.

"Rise, Samsa!"

Something gripped her--something hard, but gentle, and secure--and she was soaring through the air, leaving the water to crash back in below her. She landed back up in the courtyard, the tile rattling underfoot. One long chitinous arm unwrapped around Tae's waist, while two smaller hands still held carefully onto her shoulders. A massive beetle stood protectively over Tae, his crippled wings buzzing and sending the tattered edges of an old suit jacket whipping in the wind.

They'd landed over Sakura, who had been brought to his knees by the onslaught of shadowed guards--he'd done his best to thin the crowd, but in the end there was only so much either of them could do alone. He gaped up at her. "Y...you too...?"

"You seemed like you could use a bit of help." She rolled her shoulders and reached out a hand. Sakura gripped it, and she felt a tingle down her arm. As she pulled him to his feet, bruises and scrapes faded away from the old barista's skin. She filed that away in her brain for some fun tests later.

"Another one of you?!" Youji screeched. He'd backed away, letting his cronies take the front line. "You assholes can keep coming, but you're nothing to me, you hear that? Nothing!"

Tae reached into the hooded leather trenchcoat that had settled over her shoulders at some point. Her fingers played over the bandoliers lined with glass vials, until she found what she was looking for. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Isshiki-san, but ignoring a problem won't solve it." The serrated blade of her bonesaw gleamed in the light as she pulled it out. "Sometimes you've just got to cut out the rot."

"Get rid of these eyesores!" Youji bellowed to the guards. "I don't care if you have to kill them, I want them out of my goddamn sight!"

"Of course, sir! Leave it to us, sir!" A lifeguard twitched and writhed, bones cracking, until the shadows melted off it to reveal an armored soldier on horseback, hooves stomping angrily against the tile. "You are trespassing on private property. For sullying our esteemed guest's paradise, you will be ejected with extreme prejudice."

Samsa finally let go of Tae's shoulders, his plated joints clicking together. 'This is how it will be, moving forward. This is how it's always been.' As he straightened up she could just make out the gaps in his insectoid armor, giving a glimpse to a fragile and emaciated form hidden beneath. 'What is inconvenient is reviled. As long as we dare to live as nuisances, we'll have to brace ourselves for violence.'

Tae cracked her neck one way, then the other. "I can handle that." She pulled a vial from her bandolier, and crushed it. Phosphoresence glimmered around her, her coat feeling even thicker and more secure. The knight ran at her with its blade swinging, and Tae brought up an arm to block it on instinct. The sword stuck in her coat, her bolstered leather turned to armor. Tae smiled and her blood, gleaming unnaturally bright on the knight's steel, erupted into black wisps of fire. The knight roared in agony as the curse engulfed it. "They can sling whatever they like at us. We're not going to apologize for how they see us."

"Holy hell," Sakura muttered. "You don't have to risk getting your arm cut off to do that every time, right?" He raised his own arm, and a gust of wind knocked the knight from its horse's back.

"Probably not. It's more exciting this way, though, isn't it?"

"Fuck's sake. Please don't get yourself killed trying to look cool."

As the knight struggled to pull itself up, the duo exchanged a look. Sakura twirled his sword in one hand. Tae's grip tightened on her saw.

A scream was cut short, blood gushing from the knight's neck and dissolving into thin air before the droplets could hit the ground.

"I don't think you've got much room to talk, Boss."

"Watch it."

Another scream sounded out. "What is wrong with you all?!" Youji was practically frothing at the mouth. "Useless, all of you! I'm going to get this place shut down if you losers don't get your goddamn act together!"

More faceless, hulking guards stepped forward to fill the space left by their evaporated colleague.

Sakura sighed. "Honestly. You'd think he'd get tired of doing the same thing."

"I don't know, I could do this all..." Tae's quip came to a halt as her knees buckled. "All... hang on. I..." Exhaustion crashed over her, and she struggled to keep on her feet.

"Doc?!" Sakura crouched, and Tae found herself leaning on his shoulder. She felt so heavy, all of a sudden. It was a wonder he could hold her up.

"I... I'm fine. I just need a... a second here..."

"Like hell." His voice was low. "We can't take them all like this. Can you run? We're getting out of here."

Youji cackled, manic and smug. "Should have known you were all bluster! I can't believe this shitty establishment is having so much trouble with you. You really can't get worthwhile service around here!"

"Terribly sorry, sir. I'll see to it, sir." Sakura said.

Tae's head snapped up to gape at him, but Sakura was staring at Youji, his face pale. "Wha... what the hell..." His voice had gone hoarse and raspy.

Next to Tae stood Sojiro Sakura. Across the courtyard, next to Youji, stood a second Sojiro Sakura. The doppelganger was bowed at a low angle, but there was no mistaking him. He was dressed in a cheap black suit and frayed bowtie, and was holding up a tray with a flute of champagne as an offering to Youji. "Do forgive our terrible incompetence, sir. Please allow me to make it up to you, sir, if you can deign to overlook my failure, sir. Whatever you need, sir, I'll be sure to take care of it, sir."

Sakura--the first Sakura? The Sakura by Tae's side--he was breathing unsteadily. "That--that's me. How is that--how am I--"

Youji sneered at the stunned pair, and snatched up the champagne without looking to the servile clone. "It's a relief anyone in this shithole knows their place, isn't it, Soji-kun?"

"Quite so, sir."

Tae suddenly wasn't too sure which of them was holding the other up.

Youji slapped the empty tray out of his uncanny butler's hands. "Don't just stand around, moron. Get those parasites out of my sight, and I won't have to call up the city to shut you down like you deserve."

"Of course, sir. Very good, sir." The second Sakura straightened up and stared blankly at the trespassers. There was absolutely nothing behind his eyes. "They'll kneel before you, sir."

The gathered guards writhed and gurgled, purple skin melting away as a fleet of horseback soldiers reshaped around them.

Tae patted at Sakura's--normal Sakura's--face, which had gone slack with shock. "Time to go, Boss. Wake up now, come on!"

"I--uh--yuh. Yeah. Right. We gotta..."

Summoning up the final dregs of her adrenaline, Tae slapped him across the face. "Now!" She took off running, vaulting the gate out of the pool area and back towards the lobby.

Alarms were going off, lights in the hallway turning red. She emerged into the lobby where a lot of yelling was happening, but the desk workers barely got a step towards her as she beelined for the glass doors. She had to pray the sound of feet behind her was Normal Sakura and not his dead-eyed twin, or Youji, or a guard, or--

Tae stumbled through into a dingy, dirty, blessedly familiar street. Her knees buckled under her, and she staggered. A hand caught her by the back of her jacket, and she whirled around to slap it off.

Sakura raised his hands. "Sorry! Sorry, we gotta keep..."

He trailed off, staring at her. Tae stared back. After all the stupid outfits she'd seen the man in today, a plain dress shirt and slacks looked absolutely alien on him. She looked down at herself. She had her doctor's coat and skirt back on.

The two of them looked at the building they'd sprinted out of. A tiny café stood innocently in between the other equally innocuous storefronts, its windows dark and its sign turned to CLOSED.

There was a vibration in Tae's pocket. With numb fingers, she pulled out her phone, and looked at the new message displayed across the screen.

Navigation complete. Returned to reality.

Tae began laughing, and her legs went out from under her.

Chapter Text

May 1

The smell of coffee and curry always grounded Sojiro. It was the smell of normalcy. Of familiarity. This smell meant he was taking care of someone, be it his daughter, a customer, or his probationary ward. Or in the current case, the shell-shocked physician at his counter who'd just had the manifestation of existential horror jump out of her soul.

"The simplest answer is a shared hallucination," she said for the third or fourth time. "There could be some sort of chemical leak in the neighborhood with psychoactive effects. Or an undiscovered strain of parasitic fungus affecting our senses. I did always want to be a patient zero for something."

"We all have dreams, huh. Yirgacheffe?"

"Black, three sugars. Just to be absolutely certain, you don't have a twin?"

Sojiro smacked his forehead. "Knew I was forgetting something. Problem solved, Saionji and I will just talk it out at the next family picnic." He began cranking the bean grinder. "Maybe the whole coffee shop has a twin who popped in for a few hours, too."

"At this point, nothing is too absurd to write off entirely. Every assumption needs to be thrown out and reinvestigated."

"I'll leave that part of it to you." The electric kettle started to hiss, and Sojiro pulled it off its stand. "How spicy do you like your curry?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You will be. After I got out of there last night, we went through every box of leftovers in the house."

"We? Does your floral friend need to eat as well?"

He chuckled. "No, me and my--" Sojiro cut himself off. He glanced back at Dr. Takemi for the first time in a while--she was watching him intently. He'd been too caught up in the rhythm of his work.

Screw it. They were in deep enough at this point. "My daughter and I. She's a black hole for curry," when she remembered to eat, anyway, "but I was keeping up with her plate for plate yesterday." He turned to the rice cooker while the brew filtered, casual as he could possibly be. This was normal. Talking about his kid was normal, just as normal as talking about coffee. Even moreso. Parents loved talking about their kids, way more than different bean types. He could feel Takemi's eyes on his back.

"I see. So awakening a psychic alter ego spurs on appetite." Takemi leaned her chin on a hand. "Or the parasitic fungus is incurring hunger to offset the energy intake. Either way, we're eating for two."

Sojiro winced. "Do you have to phrase it that way?"

"Only if I want to state the facts of the matter."

Sighing, Sojiro ladled his special curry blend over the plate of steaming rice and put it down before her. "Well, both of you eat up. Quietly, if you don't mind, I need to think."

Takemi waved him off, pushing curry around her plate with reluctance.

Sojiro began the process of cleaning up, and let himself to fall into autopilot. If he'd been fully honest with Takemi, what he really needed right now was to not think. He'd hit his annual quota of complicated situations and hard choices quite a while back, and he needed to put himself in a protective cocoon of pure, simple, unsurprising routine.

Making this all the more important was the fact that Sojiro had no idea how long he could count on his precious normalcy to keep him safe anymore. With the building around them apparently unchanged from before, there was a fleeting hope that actually everything was fine--Youji would stay in his bizarre hotel version of Leblanc, Sojiro would stay in the café proper, and they'd never have to see each other. So far there wasn't anything to indicate getting banned from the resort had meant anything for the Leblanc that mattered, so maybe it was fine and everyone could be happy with this bananas arrangement. Who cared if there was a doppelganger with his face in some kind of alternate dimension accessible only via phone applications? It didn't affect anything where it mattered over here, surely?

Even as the rationalizations came to him, Sojiro recognized the flimsy attempts at denial for what they were. The exact nature of what had happened was still a mystery, but he knew the chances of things staying how he liked them was somewhere between zilch and zip. Leblanc could shift out from under him at any moment, or his copy could walk into city hall and sign the deed over to Youji, or Akira could bring home a girl and mess up the bean organization trying to impress her by making a mediocre blend. Nothing was safe or steady anymore. Worst of all was the knowledge that even Futaba wasn't safe from the new waves of chaos, so long as Youji stood at the center of it all.

Beans had been sorted and grinder blades had been cleaned, and at some point Tae had been served her coffee and a second plate of curry, but Sojiro realized he had done a fairly poor job of not thinking too hard. The dread was still sitting front and center atop his gut, demanding attention. Demanding action. That was the biggest problem with all these changes; Sojiro had spent a lifetime mastering the art of ignoring problems until they went away, but this time around he had an alien urge to do something about it.

(Deep in the recesses of Sojiro's soul, Pimpernel gave his annoying laugh.)

He picked up Takemi's cleaned plate. "Need another?"

"I'll pass." She was eyeing the curry pot, though. "If I keep going, I'll have to take a nap on my exam table the rest of the day. I may still."

Sojiro chuckled. "That's what the coffee's for."

"I will take another serving of that." The doctor let out a long sigh, resting her head atop her arms on the counter. "You really weren't kidding. I didn't know I could fit that much in me."

He eyed her slumped form on the countertop as he poured her a to-go cup. "Are you sure you're okay to go back to the clinic? I don't think anyone would mind if you took a day off." Takemi turned her head to give him a small glare. "Not, ah--not that I'm implying you don't have patients to see, I just mean--"

"It's fine. Glass houses and all." With a groan, she pushed herself vertical. "But I do need to get back. A medical mystery like this is all the more reason to get to work."

Sojiro sighed and pushed her the extra coffee, as well as a take-home box of curry. Just in case. "Are you really sure this is medical? I mean, we got there through a phone app."

"Assumptions out the window, remember?" Takemi relished a sip from the fresh cup. "Until I can be sure it's not a new strain of cordyceps that's locked into our nervous system, I'm not taking anything for granted."

"And what am I supposed to do while you test for brain bugs?"

She shrugged. "Try to avoid exacerbating your condition." Sojiro stared blankly at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Don't stroll into any weird hotels without a doctor to keep you alive."

"Wha--hang on, I'm the one who came to your rescue first, you know!"

"Yes yes, and you were very gallant about it. All I'm saying is, if you're going to do something stupid make sure to tell me first. I'll want to take notes."

Sojiro rubbed his temples. "Great. On top of everything else, I get treated like a damn guinea pig." Takemi choked on another gulp of coffee, and tried in vain not to spill on herself in the ensuing coughing fit. Sojiro offered her some napkins to clean herself up. "You sure you're up for the rest of the day?"

"I'm fine. It's fine. Just--"

The bell above the door rang as a customer arrived. "Good afternoon, Sakura-san. A lovely day, isn't it? Far too lovely to spend at home, I thought." The regular Mister Writer bobbed his head at Takemi and beelined for his usual booth, where he set up with a crossword puzzle and notebook. "The usual, if you don't mind. I do always mean to branch out with your blends, but once you find something you know you love, it's hard to take a chance, isn't it?"

Sojiro bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't enjoy small talk with his customers on the best of days, let alone this eternally tone-deaf snoot butting into the middle of a conversation. "In a minute, I'm..."

Takemi straightened up, expression neutral and coat pulled over her top to hide the worst of the coffee stains. "Thanks. Money's on the counter."

"Oh. I..." Sojiro glanced at the writer at the table, mentally drafting how to say what he wanted without catching interest of the nosy new audience. Before he got the chance, Takemi had turned and strolled out the door, casual as you please.

It was a surprise to look up at the bell and see Akira in the door, thumbing casually at his own phone. Sojiro glanced at the clock in the kitchen, just to make sure he was the one who had sleepwalked through the day and the kid wasn't playing hooky. He gave Akira his traditional nod of cautious approval, and went back to looking at stretching exercises on his phone.

After a moment, he looked up again. Akira was standing at the end of the counter, watching him.

"Don't loiter, kid, I've got customers." He pointedly returned to his phone, ignoring the problem teen who was, in fact, the only person keeping him company in the empty café. Once in a while he indulged in the kid's interest, but after the events of this morning playing babysitter did not sound especially appealing.

Still, the kid didn't budge. "You were gone this morning."

"Had a doctor's appointment."

"Are you sick?"

Sojiro glanced over, raising a brow. "What, are you worried about me?" He shrugged the concern off. "I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

Akira shrugged right back. "I had to lock up behind me on the way out."

Ah, so that was the part that had bothered him. Figured. "You want a raise for the extra work, now? I'm not making a habit of being out in the mornings, so don't get any ideas."

"No morning ragers in the café? You're really busting my chops."

"Get upstairs." Sojiro put a growl in his tone to hide the laugh. No point encouraging the sass.

Akira, meanwhile, didn't hide his smirk as he shuffled toward the back. The resident loafer had one foot on the stair when a thought occurred to Sojiro. "Hey." Akira glanced back, and Sojiro did his best to look uninterested. "Did you notice anything unusual last night?"

"Like what?" It was hard, from this distance, to make out Akira's expression behind unkempt bangs and glasses. Sojiro made a mental note to buy him a comb.

Already, Sojiro regretted asking. What was he expecting? He grunted, and scrolled idly along his phone. "I heard there was some weird lurker in the area. Thinking about it now, maybe they were just talking about you."

Akira opened his mouth to say something, but a muffled voice cut him off.

"What's going on? Hurry up, I'm cramped!"

Sojiro looked up again, scowling, as Akira adjusted the strap on his backpack. "Sure. I'll keep an eye out. You need any help down here tonight?"

Sojiro huffed. Despite his initial misgivings, the idle nagging had been a brief but welcome distraction from everything else that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. "If you're bored, sure. Drop off your bag and get changed." He pocketed his phone and dusted himself off. "And keep your damn phone off speaker down here. Have some respect for public spaces." The teen had been strolling in with some whiny friend chattering at him over the phone almost every day now, and Sojiro was sick of it.

Akira made a face at him, before vanishing into the attic. Come to think of it, Sojiro hadn't heard from the cat for a bit. At least someone around here had gotten better behaved.

Sojiro took a deep whiff of the java Akira had prepared for him. "Not bad. But anyone can just brew it. The real trouble comes with making a blend."

It surprised Sojiro as much as anyone to discover how quick a learner Akira turned out to be. He didn't know how the kid's grades were, but when it came to coffee the guy was a natural... for a novice, at least.

"Now, curry's another matter. A genius came up with the perfect blend of spices..."

The bell above the door rang, and the two of them looked up to the late-night customer.

The bottom fell out of Sojiro's stomach. Youji Isshiki grinned at him from the entrance.

"You again? What are you doing here?"

Youji spread his hands. "Whoa, did you already forget? I'm just hoping for you to spread a little of that generosity you already share with the rest of your customers."

Sojiro grit his teeth. "I meant, what are you doing here." He glanced back at Akira, who was watching Youji carefully and fiddling with something in his pocket. "Don't you have somewhere else you can get your special treatment, without making it our problem?"

If Youji took the hint, he certainly didn't show it. "Foisting me and my troubles off on someone else? I didn't realize you were so cold, Sojiro."

An eyelid twitched. "Maybe you should go somewhere warmer, then. You look like you could use a vacation."

Youji crossed his arms, brow furrowed. "You offering to pay? I didn't realize you had so much scratch. Or maybe you think anyone can afford leisure time so easily. Those savings from your time in the government must really treat you well, huh?" His leer turned to Akira, who was now watching Sojiro from the corner of his eye. "Aren't you taking care of that employee right there too, for nothing more than charity? I wish you'd show me the same kindness you show others."

"Maybe there's a reason you can't get any kindness elsewhere? Banned from a few too many establishments?"

Youji's expression soured. "Is that a threat? Are you really that selfish?"

Nothing. No recognition, no knowing look, no tan. It was as if Youji had never been in that stupid hotel at all. Sojiro clenched a fist.

The tension was abruptly shattered by a beeping. Sojiro blinked, and pulled out his phone. A call was coming from an unregistered number.

"Is it that social worker again?" Akira spoke for the first time since Youji's arrival. His hand was firmly in his pocket. Sojiro's eyes widened.

"Yeah. That time again." He flashed Youji a pained smile. "See, social services check in on this guy a lot. Stop by pretty often too, to make sure he's not getting in trouble. Want me to introduce you?"

A brief tensing of the shoulders was the only response Youji gave, before smacking his forehead. "Oh--that's right! I have some business I need to take care of myself. I'll come back another time." He gave a chuckle and a wave, before beating a hasty retreat.

A deafening silence hung in Youji's wake. It didn't make any sense. Youji's name was on the app, right? Sojiro had assumed that meant he was behind the whole thing in some way or another, designing some sort of alternate world for his own pleasure somehow. But now it seemed the jackass had no recollection of any of it. Was it another doppelganger over there, just as unaffected by reality as the rest?

A faint clearing of the throat broke both the silence and Sojiro's concentration. Akira was watching him expectantly.

"Right. You... probably deserve an explanation." Sojiro rubbed at his neck. "He may try to come back when I'm not around..."

"Is that what you were asking about?" Akira glanced back to the door. "Asking if I'd seen anything last night?"

"...Yeah. Pretty much. He's an old acquaintance who's hard up on cash. Seems friendly, right?"

"Not especially."

Sojiro snorted. Sometimes the kid's instincts were too good. Speaking of which. "Gotta say, that stunt with the phone was quick thinking. I'm surprised you were sharp enough to pull off a stunt like that."

"I've had practice."

It was clear from Akira's expression he'd instantly regretted the quip. Sojiro's eyes narrowed, and the boy avoided his gaze. The barista sighed. He was too tired to be strict. "I don't think I want to know. You saved me back there, so I'll let that comment slide just this once."

"Appreciated."

"Likewise. Don't know why you keep poking your nose into other peoples' business, though. It's easier to keep your head down." In the far corners of Sojiro's psyche, Pimpernel scoffed.

"It's... just the kind of person I am." Akira pushed his glasses up. "Boss, are you okay?"

Maybe the kid's instincts weren't actually that great, ignoring such a blatant hint. Sojiro rolled his eyes and started wiping down the counter. "That right there. That's the sort of thing you'd be happier if you did less of it. Leave adult concerns to adults, would you?"

Silence responded, and for a few seconds Sojiro thought Akira might not have heard him. He looked up, catching a glimpse of the boy's expression of intense concentration on Sojiro's back. Their eyes met, and Akira returned to impassive neutrality so quick Sojiro might have imagined the whole thing.

"Sure, Boss. I'll try."

May 8

"The educational board is insisting it has a no-tolerance stance on abuse from any and all members. In Shibuya, local campaigners have taken the opportunity to speak out against--"

The news station droned on about local goings-on. Mister Writer ha-rumphed into his third cappucino. "The pressure put on school sports teams has always been an easy place to put all the prestige in, rather than nurturing intellectual growth. This teacher is just a side effect of the larger systemic issues at play. Don't you think, Boss?"

Sojiro didn't look up from the curry pot he was stirring. "Ah-huh."

"Give it time, they'll pin any complaints on one bad apple, and go back to business as usual. One man's conscience acting up doesn't help anyone."

"Mm." Sojiro dipped a spoon in to taste. Maybe more carrot.

Mister Writer drained his cup. "Ah, it's that time already...? I have to take care of some professional matters. You take care, Boss."

"Yeah."

Sojiro closed the pot lid as the door's bell jingled, and Mr. Writer murmured something to an incoming customer as he shuffled past. A dark figure took up a spot at the counter.

"Yirgacheffe. Black, with sugar." Tae Takemi sat there, resting her chin on a hand.

Sojiro's eyebrows climbed up. "Three, right?"

She hummed her assent, and pulled out a notebook. Sojiro eyed her as he put the beans in the grinder, but the doctor's attention was fully kept by her notes.

"Wasn't sure I remembered your preference properly," Sojiro tried. "Since it's been a while."

"Not that long." Takemi scribbled something in her book.

"All things considered, though. I was wondering if you'd been avoiding me."

The crank of the grinder finally got her to look up. "I was in yesterday."

His brow climbed again. "Come on. I'm not so old as to have memory issues."

"And you haven't had any other symptoms, have you?"

His mouth twisted, and he pulled the fresh grounds out of the grinder. "Nope. Never better." Aside from his soul-roommate making occasional telepathic comments through the day, the past week had been abnormally normal.

"Then you ought to remember me coming in here all through the week."

Sojiro hesitated, halfway over to the kettle. He glanced at Dr. Takemi, her hands tucked under her chin, the corner of a smile just barely visible. He swallowed. "Were you... here here?"

The smile widened. "Don't see how I could have gotten lost. Used my phone to check the location and everything."

"You--you went by yourself?! What happened to not exacerbating conditions?"

"I had to make sure you were following the doctor's orders and not sneaking over yourself. Turns out you're much better at doing what you're told than I expected. Is my coffee almost ready?"

"Hold your horses," Sojiro snapped on instinct. He shook his head. Right. Fine. The local quack might be making trips to an alternate reality located squarely in his kitchen, but that was no reason to get distracted from his coffee responsibilities. "So? What happened?"

"Not much. I never stayed long--didn't want a repeat of the first time. But I did eavesdrop on some conversations that their special guest was really annoyed that the owner wasn't selling the place."

The handle of the french press squeaked slightly in Sojiro's grip. "That so."

Takemi didn't immediately respond, instead opting to flip to a new page and scrawl something down. Sojiro started to feel a little self conscious--what exactly was she taking notes on?

He took a deep breath. "You should know... I talked to Youji the other day." That certainly got Takemi's attention. Her pen paused, and her eyes locked on him as he poured her coffee. "He came in here, chummy as ever. I couldn't confront him properly since there were other folks around, but when I started dropping hints about the hotel he seemed completely clueless."

"More than usual?"

He huffed a humorless laugh. "That's not all. He was dressed different. Normal. No tan, no stupid speedo, no yellow eyes."

"No frilly neckwear, even?"

"You know, this might be the best cup of coffee I've ever made. Maybe I should just keep it for myself."

Takemi lifted her hands in surrender. "So the hotel has another twin living in there, is that it? We've got a full parallel universe on our hands?" She gratefully took the fresh cup from Sojiro. "That would explain some of it, I suppose. I even tried milling around the streets outside the hotel for a while, but when I went "back to reality" with the app, no one in the area could remember seeing me there."

"I guess..." Sojiro leaned against the sink. "But... there's got to be some connection between there and here, don't you think? It's just a feeling, but..." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "What if the... over-there-Youji was so annoyed, because I wouldn't play ball with the over-here-Youji?"

Takemi took a moment to blow on her drink and take a long sip. "Not to pry, but when are you thinking of telling me your relationship with him?"

Sojiro winced. He could only dance around that part so long, it seemed. "Right, right, sorry. His sister was... a coworker of mine. Years ago. After she passed, I helped out some of her family, and he... well, he thinks that means he can pump me for cash whenever he wants." That summed it up well enough, he figured. Takemi looked doubtful, but anything more specific was purely personal and, until proven otherwise, completely irrelevant. "I cut ties with him a while back, but recently he found out about Leblanc. Seems he thinks being gainfully employed means I'm holding out on him, and he'll show up every now and again to play panhandler."

The doctor hummed, taking down more notes. "So he acts as if he should get top service when he's here?"

Sojiro opened his mouth, then closed it. He pursed his lips. "I... guess you could say that. What are you...?"

She tapped her pen against paper. "I think your hypothesis holds merit. But it requires more data to hold any ground."

"My what?"

"We'll need to test it properly. How soon do you think you can see him again?"

"Hang on." Sojiro straightened up, crossing his arms. "Didn't you spend the last week figuring out doing things in the... over-there, doesn't do anything over here? There's no point poking that bear if we don't have to. I certainly don't want to bother with him more than needed."

"If what's happening over here affects what's over there, there's no reason to assume it doesn't go both ways. All we have right now is cursory observations. Besides, I have some hypotheses of my own I intend to look into."

Sojiro pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, you do. Well, all my concerns aren't important then, I guess." He took a deep breath. "Fine. You'll do it even if I say not to, so I may as well keep an eye on you."

"Such a gentleman," Takemi smirked behind her coffee cup. "Don't you want to hear my theory before agreeing to it?"

"Depends. Will I understand a word of it?"

She considered, and glanced sidelong at the television by the cash register. It was still showing news, some car accident or something, or maybe discussing the train accident a while back, Sojiro couldn't keep track. Takemi nodded to the exposé. "Have you heard about the psychotic shutdown incidents?"

Chapter Text

May 9

The television's glow cast about the otherwise dark room, cheerfully relaying the interview with a young shogi master to an uninterested one-man audience. Sojiro sat in his armchair, eyes turned to the screen but seeing none of it. It was nothing new. He slept in this chair about as much as he did his bed these days, lulled by white noise and inane chatter. He doubted he'd get much rest regardless of where he sat, tonight.

He'd seen a lot of news reports over the last few years. Sure, he hadn't really watched many of them, but osmosis had let the broad strokes through, and the broad strokes had been a lot of people getting hurt because someone went off the deep end. The doc had filled in details he'd not quite picked up on--namely, the common thread connecting them all was that the perpetrator had reportedly been acting unlike themselves, either with no memory of their actions, or turned to a full blown gibbering wreck.

Not acting like themselves, like maybe acting like a psychotic rich VIP who set goons on people, and not remembering any of it a day or two later.

Takemi had inserted a lot of "purportedly"s and "allegedly"s and "in theory"s into her explanation, but for all her claims of unbiased research Sojiro could see the train of thought she was leading him down, and it was heading for a cliff. If that big hotel was a "manifested symptom of psychological distress," like she'd said, then there was the possibility that Youji was already on his way to a breakdown, and his sights were set on taking Sojiro and Futaba down with him--the dynamite was already set on the tracks, and he didn't know how long the fuse had left.

Numb, he glanced at the phone gripped tight in his hand. He'd pulled up Youji's phone number, freshly unblocked. Takemi said it was just due diligence, to try nudging at the guy and seeing what happened on the other side. Just to confirm, she'd emphasized.

He couldn't bring himself to send the text. Not only was it unsettling, imagining rooting around inside someone's head, it just felt... careless. Even if Takemi was right about all this, how could they be sure they weren't going to make things worse? What if poking around in there was what actually led to Youji somehow driving a car into the front of Leblanc, and if they'd left well enough alone he'd just go on being a regular menace instead of a psychotic wreck?

Moreover, the only real way to check was for them to split up. Takemi would have to go in alone to see if Sojiro's egging him on caused anything in the hotel, but there was no way she could be sure. The place was too big for her to get an eye on anywhere something might shift, and most importantly the place was dangerous alone.

Sojiro turned the television off and silence settled over the Sakura residence, broken only by the faint tikka-tappa-tik of a keyboard behind a locked door.

They needed to do something, he knew it. But there was no way the two of them could do it all alone.

May 14

Going out and about in the city was a real pain in the ass. It was crowded, it stunk of smog and sweat, and no one ever shut the hell up. Make no mistake, Munehisa Iwai hated his dank, cramped, dark airsoft shop, but he hated having to leave it even more. He had a perfectly good little forgotten corner for people to do business in, and it pissed him off that some prissy clients thought they were too good to have to walk five minutes from the damn station to make a deal.

Still, Munehisa lacked the luxury to make demands when the compensation was this good. So if his client said meet him at Shibuya Station, he had to put on his big boy pants and his noise canceling muffs and do the damn thing.

The station did have the advantage of being so busy no one paid much attention to shady thugs exchanging envelopes for briefcases, at least. Or at least if people noticed, they generally made an effort to un-notice it and be somewhere else as fast as they could. In the fifteen-odd minutes he'd been loitering by the stairwell in the square, he'd seen the tops of a lot of peoples' heads as they avoided any possible risk of eye contact.

His phone buzzed. Munehisa glared at it--if the client was telling him they'd been delayed another ten damn minutes, he was calling the whole thing off. The message, however, was from Kaoru.

> Cram school's cancelled today.
> Teachers had a conference. I think it's about that abuse case on the news.

> you can still use the study hours there yea

> Yes. But I finished my schoolwork already.

> ok good work
> see you at home

> When will you be done?

> late
> stuff came up
> should be plenty in the fridge for dinner

> Do you want any help at the shop?

> dont worry about that

> I really don't mind... you've had a lot of late nights.

> sorry
> hired a part timer recently
> should make things easier
> just focus on school ok

> Ok... see you when you get home.

> k

Munehisa leaned heavily against the wall blew out a breath. Sometimes he wondered where his son learned to be so thoughtful. It sure hadn't been from him, and from the little he knew of her proved it certainly wasn't his mom. So either cram school was putting in lessons on emotional intelligence, or Kaoru's biological dad was a real mensch.

Over the years, Munehisa had attributed a lot of Kaoru's better traits to the mystery man. His intelligence, his dedication, his patience. It had to come from somewhere, anyway. It made him think about how Kaoru's life would be if he'd ended up with that guy, instead of dropped off by his drug addict mother at the feet of the yakuza. Easier, definitely. Happier, probably.

Not a lot of point moping over those what-ifs, now. Kaoru had wound up with him, eating dinner alone so his scummy old man could make more lousy deals so he could afford to send the kid to a good school and get out from the shadow of Munehisa's reputation.

He looked out at the city. He could wait a bit longer for the client, and grab some cake or some shit for Kaoru on the way home. The money was good enough... as long as the bastard actually showed up. Had he missed something? Munehisa slipped off his ear protection, and the noise rushed in to assault him.

"--ollen's driving me nuts today, sorry--"

"--the hell out of here, No Good--"

"--ant a job kid? It's good money for no--"

"--ear not, the Sun God will protect your soul in the fortress of Hea--"

"--et directions to the art show? It's supposed to be--"

Munehisa squeezed his eyes shut. "Of all the places in all of Japan, why the hell do I gotta do business here..."

His phone buzzed in his palm again. He looked down for messages from Kaoru or the client, but he only caught a glimpse of bright red letters.

CANDIDATE FOUND. STARTING NAVIGATION.

He blinked, before the sky blotted out overhead and nausea assaulted him.

"Whugh--what the shit--" He braced himself against the wall, his only support against the sudden wave of vertigo. His vision blurred, which was a confusing sensation in sudden darkness. Swallowing down the swimming sensation, Munehisa looked up to the sky--or, where it should have been.

Instead of open air, something had blocked the skyline entirely. There was no sunlight, no stars, no clouds. The only thing visible above the rooftops of the city was a featureless and uniform gray, casting everything into darkness but for the warm glow from streetlights and windows.

Munehisa pressed his back into the wall. He suddenly felt very, very small.

The square bustled around him still, though it was much more quiet than before. He looked around. People were looking casually on their phones, rushing into the station to catch their train, posing for pictures next to Buchiko. No one was looking up.

Desperate, Munehisa reached out and grabbed the shoulder of a passing shopper and gestured desperately to the missing sky.

"What... what the hell's going on? Are you seeing this?!"

The young man blinked at him, brow faintly furrowed. It was a bit of an underreaction for a large tattooed man grabbing someone out of nowhere, but that was the least of the weirdness going on. He glanced up at Munehisa's prompting, and a frown twisted on his face.

"Oh... yeah. This country's really going downhill these days, huh?" The man shrugged. "What are you going to do, though, right?"

"The country? What...." Before Munehisa could press for more details, the stranger politely extracted himself from his grip and continued on his way. "Fucking--get back here!" But the man was gone in the crowd. Not to be ignored, Munehisa pressed out into the square. Someone had to know what was going on.

An elderly couple shook their heads knowingly. "It's a disgrace, is what it is. Someone ought to do something."

The teller in the lottery ticket booth shrugged. "I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing."

A tired businessman scowled at being stopped. "What are you asking me for? I've got my own life to worry about, you know."

A group of teenage boys scoffed at his prompting. "It's none of our business. Someone'll figure it out, right?"

It was that, over and over. No one denied the sky was missing, but no one cared. Munehisa was the weirdo causing trouble for bothering people with something so ordinary. He was the freak for asking when a void had moved in overhead.

That, he was realizing, was what was freaking him out the most; the missing sun had rattled him, but the overwhelming way in which nothing else changed that turned that pit of dread into creeping tendrils of fear across his gut.

Munehisa was not in the habit of letting fear take hold. It was, as a rule, something best converted into action, as immediately and decisively as possible. The normies around here didn't have answers, and he didn't need to rely on them. Someone in his network would know what was up, or would know someone who knew. He'd get back to his shop and get to work calling in as many favors as it took to...

...to...

The roughshod attempt at a plan crashed into a wall as Munehisa stared into the station square. He'd been so obsessively looking up, trying to get others to turn their attention up, that he had missed something fundamental. Something obvious. Something right under his nose.

There was a weird looking bush here.

Not in one of the little cemented landscaped enclosures where the city put some grass and trees to give a little bit of color over the asphalt, but right smack dab in the square. A leafy little blob, squatted down by a wall of the stairwell, roughly the size and shape of a person.

Some moron was wearing a ghille suit in the middle of the densest, most highly trafficked urban center in the whole fucking country.

It was such a bafflingly stupid thing for a person to do, so obscenely out of place, that Munehisa knew on instinct that it had to be related. It was this perfectly logical connection, and nothing to do with any theoretical sense of overwhelm or panic, that led him to rush over, grab the foliage-clad figure, and slam their back into the wall.

"You better not fucking say you don't know anything about the sky going dark, or I'm going to shove your hood down your goddamned throat."

The failed guerilla coughed, caught off guard by his unexpected detection and following manhandling. "I don't doubt it..." It was a man's voice, deep if not for the wheezing. "I'm sorry, I don't think... I can say much..."

"I wasn't asking for your cooperation, asshole."

"...with your elbow... in my diaphragm..."

In the old days, that would be Munehisa's cue to dig in deeper and ask if his victim found that more suitable. People got loose-lipped real fast regardless of their comfort level, if you knew the right position to put them in. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting old urges fade into something a hair less coercive. He eased up the pressure on the man's chest, keeping him pinned but letting air in. His grassy captive sucked in a grateful breath.

"The sky," Munehisa repeated. "Where'd it go."

"It didn't go anywhere, I'm afraid." The man's voice had a grim resignation to it, under the wheezing. "It's just been blocked off. Too easy an entry point. Open air is just asking for a breach."

"Blocked... that's...?" Munehisa looked up at the dark expanse. "It's a wall?"

"A roof, yes." There was a clear bitterness in his tone, though it was hard to be sure if it was directed at the sky or at the jackass who'd assaulted him over it. "It's been like that for decades."

Munehisa's attention snapped back to the poorly camouflaged man. Between the leaves and the greasepaint it was difficult to make out much of the guy's features, but in spite of his objectively absurd attire he had the levity of a tombstone.

"The hell do you mean, decades? It just happened a minute ago."

"Trust me--it's been like this all along. You only just now noticed. Most people never really acknowledge it at all." There was a shuffling of plastic branches as the man shrugged, and he gave a deeply weary laugh. "I'd commend you on your attentiveness, if it weren't such a poor reward. Seeing the true state of the nation is more of a burden for the majority of people."

Munehisa grit his teeth and shoved the stranger into the plaster again. "That's a hot load of bull and you know it. People don't just miss a giant ceiling over the city, and how the hell are me and you the only ones paying attention?"

"Perhaps the same reason you're getting away with assaulting a man in public...?"

The thug's eyes darted around; in fact there was a sudden massively empty area around the two of them, right in the center of Shibuya foot traffic. Even as he looked, those on the outskirts of the abandoned square diverted their paths just a little further out to best avoid the scene he'd made.

"I'm sorry," the stranger said. He really did sound it, which was the infuriating bit. "I've found that drawing attention to the matter only makes the walls thicker. No one likes a fuss."

Slowly, uncertainly, Munehisa's grip on the ghille suit loosened. This was complete nonsense. But it was happening, regardless. Usually when people started talking philosophy or politics or metaphors or whatever pretentious crap he didn't understand, he tuned them out or intimidated them into shutting up. But however it had happened, the pretentious crap was real and solid and not backing down no matter how hard he glared and scowled. So the next best option was to file it neatly into the 'Shit I Don't Understand' drawer of his mind and move forward accepting whatever garbage he heard next, or else he'd never get off the back foot.

"So... what? You just tryin' to... blend in?"

The stranger's leaves shook as he let out a deep laugh. "Oh, no! I could never blend in like this!" A hand emerged briefly from a thicket of shaggy moss to gesture at itself. "No, I'm trying to infiltrate. The only way to get the walls down is to make it inside."

Munehisa stared. Not blending, but infiltrating... getting inside a horizon-spanning wall by looking so out of place people ignored him. "Are you an idiot?"

"Possibly, my good man, possibly. Only an idiot wants to stare at the sun, after all."

The streetlights, the only bastion against all-encompassing darkness under the oppressive barricaded ceiling, flickered overhead.

Munehisa finally let go of the deranged stranger's chest. The two of them stared at each other for a moment... or, he thought they did. Most of the man's face was hidden by plastic fronds and moss. Wherever the guy was looking, it said a lot that the stranger didn't bolt for safety the instant he was out of a crazed hooligan's grip.

Tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, Munehisa let out a long groan as he rolled his neck to one side, until vertebrae released a satisfying pop. "All right. Fine. What's the plan?"

The stranger--Muhehisa mentally dubbed him 'Gil'--stiffened. "I'm sorry. Plan?"

"'S what I said. Doubt you can pull off something like this by yourself, and it wouldn't be the first time I took direction with someone with fertilizer for brains. So deal me in. How're you getting the walls down?"

"I..." He'd never seen a shrub shuffle awkwardly before. "That's... brave of you. But..." There was a great rustling of leaves, under which somewhere a head was shaking. "For your own sake, I must advise against it. Aligning yourself with me will only bring greater adversity before you."

"Adversity, huh." Munehisa rolled his neck the other way, and got another pop. "God for-fuckin'-bid."

"Truly. It would be far easier for you to go back to ignoring the sky and let me concern myself with this... unpleasantness. I can't in good conscience drag someone's good name behind my own."

If it were anyone else Munehisa might have thought he was being egged on, or given a clumsy dose of reverse psychology. Hell, he'd only known this freak for upwards of five minutes, so there wasn't much history at all to tell him if Gil was trying to get a rise or not. He couldn't see the guy's face, let alone look into his eyes. All he had to go on was the guy's voice.

But Gil had a real convincing voice.

"Haven't got a good name. Dragged it through too much on my own. So you got nothing to worry about." Munehisa glowered up at the dark roof, miles overhead. "But me, I got a kid who should get to see the sun."

Another shuffle of foliage. Gil let out a soft hum. "Ah. That changes matters."

Munehisa nodded firmly, and held out a hand. "Iwai."

Gil hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, Iwai-san. This means more than you know." A hand came out from the shrubbery to grip Iwai's. "My name's Yosh--"

A mechanical wail echoed across the station square. The two men jerked in alarm at the alarms blared, and streetlights overhead took on a lurid orange gleam.

"Pete's sake," Gil hissed. "I should have known!"

"What should you have known?!" Munehisa snapped, swiveling around as he looked for wherever the sirens might have originated. As he did he saw shifting shadows under the changed lights, darkening and congealing and thickening--

"Hurry--this way!" Gil took off at a run, and Munehisa didn't need further encouragement. From the corners of his eyes, he could see the pockets of darkness taking shape, growing arms and legs and riot shields. Voices, gurgling and echoed and uncomfortably human, followed after them.

"There they are!"

"Drive them back!"

"Don't let them through!"

Gil clambered over a bench and on top of the bare scraps of grass under the anemic tree and sparse bushes that the city had afforded for landscaping. He tugged at something by the roots, and a patch of earth popped open. "Get in!"

Munehisa had a bare few seconds to process the ladder that stretched down into a dark tunnel, before he felt bodies pressing in behind him with angry yells and he took his chances diving into the unknown pit.

Like an old childhood blanket, adrenaline settled over him and shut down awareness of anything but the next step in front of him--namely, the step below each rung of the ladder. He hadn't had much time in those few seconds to build up expectations for a secret passage under Shibuya station plaza, but all the same the tunnel was deeper than he'd expected. Still, this was far from the most dire situation he'd found himself in. He was pretty sure, anyway. He still didn't understand most of what the hell was going on, but that may be a blessing in disguise. Not knowing just how bad things were generally made the imagination fill in gaps, and in turn made a bad situation feel way, way worse than it was. Then again, Munehisa didn't have much in the way of imagination, so he just took what little comfort he could in being an idiot fumbling in the dark.

A faint clatter overhead drew his gaze up. A great shaggy shape was carefully descending the ladder above him.

"You wanna hurry up, guy? Those guys will be coming after us any second!" Munehisa was honestly a bit surprised the dark shapes hadn't already swarmed down the ladder.

Gil huffed, his pace steady. "You don't need to worry about that. They've got short attention spans; as long as we're out of sight, they won't care enough to bother us."

That sounded suspiciously like nonsense, but it was in line with everything else he'd heard in the last fifteen minutes, so Munehisa allowed himself to breathe a bit more steadily as they descended, and let Gil keep talking.

"I am sorry, though, for getting you caught up in this. I thought we might be able to talk before the guards caught wise, but I think making an ally got them riled up."

Munehisa's feet gratefully met solid ground, and he immediately began searching his pockets for a cigarette. It was the least of what this day had earned. He glanced around the narrow space the tunnel had leveled out in; A large metal grate low along the wall served as the only possible exit, short of climbing back up again, and it cast slats of bright fluorescent lights across the cement floor. "Damn. You're that much of a rabble rouser, they get freaked out about you just shaking hands with someone?" He lit up his located tobacco and took a grateful drag.

"That's..." Gil gave a performative cough. "Would you mind waiting until we find a way outside again to do that?"

"Don't you go putting walls on me too, now. There's other ways out of here?"

Gil finally touched ground beside Munehisa, and he tried not to be too obvious about waving smoke away. "Plenty. You can find a passage down here anywhere there's plant life."

"So... not very many places, then." Gil gave him a little shrug, and Munehisa sighed. "Where's 'here,' anyway? Train maintenance tunnels? Sewers?"

"A bit of both, I suppose." Gil went to the metal grate and felt around its edge, and upon hearing a small click of metal he swung it open into the passage beyond. Light poured in, artificial and bright to the point of obscuring what lay beyond. "These are the lower levels of the fortress. They stretch across the country, but there's a way to take out the walls from below."

Gil hopped out of the grate, which turned out to be high in the wall of a hallway. Munehisa squinted through to make out the foreboding gray of alternating cement and metal bunker walls. Sure, why not at this point.

"I'd been hoping to get a little more traction on the top level before coming down here," Gil mused, his voice somber. "It's rather too big to do much without support, but people were rather put off by the enormity of the task. Not that I can blame them, admittedly." A patch of gorse peeked back up through the empty grate to Munehisa. "I understand if you've changed your mind, Iwai. You didn't know the scope of all this when you offered your assistance, and I won't hold you to it."

Scowling, Munehisa blew a lungful of smoke out. "You ever think the reason you got no one signing up for your little rebellion is you keep reminding them how big and scary and hopeless it is?"

"Um."

Munehisa watched the smoke writhe its way back up the long tunnel, winding around the ladder as it climbed back to a dark surface. If he were being honest, an exit did sound good right now. For one, he still needed to make sure Kaoru had made it home, ideally with a father to look after him. A man had to have priorities, and some quirky, well-spoken, would-be revolutionary he'd met a few minutes ago didn't outrank everything else Munehisa had going on. But a guy had pride, too. Had he really the sort of guy to back down on a promise as soon as things got a little tough?

"I'll be honest, guy... I got caught up in the moment. But I don't know you, or what it is you're really trying to do here. I ain't got a problem with doing something dumb for the greater good or whatever the hell, but I didn't expect you to have eyes that close on you. I got my own things I'm trying to make happen, you know?" He briefly wondered if his client had finally shown up and was waiting for him.

Gil nodded. "I understand." His voice was steady, unsurprised. No judgment in it. Why did that piss him off even more?

"But." Munehisa jabbed his cigarette towards Gil with emphasis. "I'm already down here. So there's no point in me pretending I'm not involved with you. Not 'til we find a way out, at least. And I'm sure as hell not going to start pretending streetlights are a good replacement for the sun." Maybe if he told the customer he needed to reschedule because he'd been chased underground by magic riot police, he'd get a mulligan.

A flash of white teeth peeked out from under the branches as the shabby little person-shaped bush smiled broadly at him. "You're a very kind person, Iwai-san. I hope you know that."

He barked out a laugh as he clambered through the grate and into the steel-and-cement hall. "You got a wake-up call coming, Gil."

There was a pause, before Gil made a soft "Ah," of realization. Finally, the stranger reached up and pulled down the hood of his ghille suit to reveal the face under all that foliage. "It's Yoshida. I'm sorry it took so long to introduce myself properly."

Yoshida was older than Munehisa had expected from just listening to his deep voice (as well as the way the guy had vaulted over city benches). Underneath the camouflaged grease paint his face was lined and drawn, with bags under his eyes and hair making a last valiant effort to hold onto his temples. When he smiled up at Munehisa his crows' feet scrunched up with happy wrinkles, and his eyes gleamed bright yellow even under the flourescent lighting.

"You can count on me, Iwai-san. For however long you'll have me."