Chapter Text
There was just something about that boy.
Your eyes lingered on him, Ren Amamiya, as he sat at his desk in front of you. He was hunched over, scanning the contents of the class's textbook as he fiddled with his pen in his right hand. An unwanted transfer student, a convicted criminal, a disgrace to your school; all words used to describe him and the type of trouble he supposedly was. These aspects of him weren't necessarily what piqued your interest, though — no, it really wasn't that simple.
There were a couple of things about Shujin Academy that were well known and often discussed on the off chance the institution was mentioned in conversation. Obviously, there was it's prestige; while many of the academy's students were middle-class, it did cater to a notable amount of up-and-coming student athletes, relatives of media professionals, and relatives of cooperation moguls. Along with the athletes came successful sports teams, and along with the successful sports teams came experienced coaches. The most notable of which being Suguru Kamoshida.
Then there were the things about Shujin Academy that were well known but not discussed at all outside of the monotonous drone of the rumor mill. Hushed voices echoed through the halls of the school; talk of Mr. Kamoshida's supposed relationship with a student in your class, speculation revolving around the volleyball team's ' sports-related injuries', and the general sentiment of discomfort attributed to him by a majority of the girls in your school.
Always whispered, always toeing the line between gossip and accusation, only for the words to be later forgotten as more interesting topics came along. That was, until Ren Amamiya showed up in your life. A quiet fellow, present in class physically but not always mentally, his mind seemed to be in a place far removed whenever your teachers were lecturing. You weren't quite sure how he managed it, but despite his head being in the clouds, he had a knack for giving the right answer whenever a teacher called on him. As a result of these observations, you concluded that he had to be extremely intelligent or at least a skilled multitasker. Most of the time, wherever he went, he was followed shortly behind by that bleach-blonde delinquent — Ryuji Sakamato, that was his name — the two, as of late, having a penchant to ask questions no one else dared to. Questions typically surrounding Mr. Kamoshida. Meandering around the campus, approaching members of the volleyball team and goading them for information about their coach, how he treats them, whether or not he gets violent with them, the works.
Honestly, you didn't know whether they were brave, stupid, or a little bit of both. It was obvious that whatever the volleyball coach was up to, it wasn't good, but you never felt that it was your place to step in or your battle to fight. Nothing positive would come out of it anyway; you had a future to think about. Getting wrapped up in something you had no business sticking your nose into wasn't your style; at least… Not when it was a subject that failed to intrigue you. Nevertheless, a small part of you (a naive part of you) hoped, despite the unlikelihood of it all, that their actions would lead to something positive being done about the matter.
For the majority of your life, you were an observer. In classes, you were quiet, and at lunch, you typically opted to eat alone. You were the president of the newspaper club, but the few members who were interested enough to join were just about as friendly as you were. Many days, you found yourself getting into bed, realising that you hadn't said a word to anyone at all, and yet that wasn't something that bothered you. Being able to sit in silence, to fade into the background, gave you an innate ability to notice things that others who were simply too caught up in the enormity of their lives would have never picked up on. When something you noticed within your sea of silence caught your eye, it tended to ignite a spark within you that turned you into another person entirely. Journalism, for one, had that effect on you.
But as March transitioned into April, a new source of kindling set your mind ablaze, and it came in the form of Amamiya-san.
The bell rang, and you, along with your peers who wanted to eat lunch outside, filed out of the classroom and into the halls like a wave barreling towards the shore of a beach. You intended to find a quiet place to enjoy your meal, but before you could make a proper decision on the matter, you were met by a crowd of somewhat lively students huddled around a bulletin board. A tad curious, you weaseled your way through the hoard of bodies into viewing what was posted up.
Sir Suguru Kamoshida, the utter bastard of lust. We know how shitty you are, and that you put your twisted desires on students that can't fight back. That's why we have decided to steal away those desires and make you confess your sins. This will be done tomorrow, so we hope you will be ready. From, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Utterly bizarre. That's how you would describe the note everyone was making a commotion about. From the writing itself, to the ransom-note style of typography (that is, the message was pieced together with letters cut randomly from a newspaper, likely in order to avoid using recognisable handwriting), it felt like it was crafted by a madman. Fishing your phone from your pocket, you snapped a quick picture before you started to make your way out of the scene that was rapidly unfolding. Shortly before you were about to turn the corner down a separate hall, though, you heard a familiar voice talking at a not-so-conspicuous volume.
" Not bad, eh? I looked up some similar stuff online for reference. " …Sakamato-san?
" Um… Yeah. I know what you wanted to say, but it sounded like an idiot trying to be an adult. " And Takamato-san. Her words were followed by what you could've sworn was the sound of a cat meowing incessantly, likely the elusive stray that was found to be prowling the school.
Were they the ones that—
" Who's responsible for this!? "
You were so busy eavesdropping, you hadn't noticed Mr. Kamoshida storm in. The boom of his voice made you flinch, your head whipping in his direction as he continued.
" Did you do this?? Or was it you?! " His gaze flicked from student to student, and instinctively the crowd dispersed with a swiftness that might make Principal Kobayakawa consider reinstating the track team. You too followed suit, trying to place yourself as far away from the fallout as possible.
A day passed, then two, and eventually it had been an entire week since the whole 'calling card' debacle took place. It was simultaneously disappointing and inevitable that you had begun to categorise the incident as more of a… Strange, half-baked prank rather than some kind of grand scheme. At some point, you would work up the courage to ask the principal and Mr. Kamoshida for permission to write a column about it in the school paper, use the piece in a future resume, and forget about the incident entirely. At least, that's what you thought would happen.
The entire school had been called to a morning assembly. All around you, students moaned about how early it was, how they were all tired, and how displeased they were about the impromptu trip to the auditorium.
"What's with the morning assembly?"
"I bet it's about that girl who jumped the other day…"
"They don't have to tell us not to commit suicide."
"There was that weird calling card too, so I guess the teachers are freaking out?"
Principal Kobayakawa approached the microphone up on the stage, and from the sounds of it he truly was about to go on a spiel about the tragedy that occurred earlier in the month and the horrors of taking your own life. That was, until the doors burst open and in walked Mr. Kamoshida, who had taken sick leave for the past several days. Upon first glance, he looked less like he was ill and more like the life had been sucked out of him.
" I have been reborn… That is why I will confess everything to you all. "
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
The speech he gave left the entire room, that being said, the entire student body, in complete shell shock from the utter impact of its contents; you, even more so than others. Your mind was moving at a hundred miles per hour, your entire body jittery with anticipation — there was a story here, a story that was shrouded in mystery, a story you wanted to know every detail of, and that boy had something to do with it. That boy standing several feet to the left of you, with the unruly hair, is adjusting his glasses with an undeniably satisfied smirk on his face. Ren Amamiya, whom you were now walking towards, was closing the distance between the two of you before he disappeared into the mass that was your peers exiting the auditorium. You reached out to tug on his sleeve, and with a somewhat startled expression, he turned to face you.
On your lips was a smile, but your eyes gleamed with an excitement that was unbecoming of how you typically held yourself,
" Oh! " you exclaimed, despite being the one who started speaking to him, " Amamiya-san, right? Sorry- I wanted to talk to you about something after school. Would you mind meeting me by the gates when we get let out? "