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As the sun sets on February 2nd, the day before the biggest performance of her life, Sumire Yoshizawa seeks to repay a past kindness. She’d always preferred to keep a good-luck charm nearby before taking the stage at her gymnastics meets, to soothe her nerves. So, she felt a kinship when two weeks ago Ren Amamiya admitted to a trinket of his own from when he led the Phantom Thieves on the daring heists that proved their justice to society. It’s something that should be in his hands now, the spiriting roll of medical adhesive he’d saved up for months to buy from Dr. Takemi’s clinic. But after she invited him over earlier that day, it had fallen to the floor. He’s not picking up his phone at the moment, and on that fateful October day last year he’d been willing to travel all the way to the construction site in Odaiba to return her own lost charm. As much as she hates to impose, a quick train ride to Yongen-Jaya and a three-minute stroll through the backstreets to Café Leblanc were the least she could do.
Under the gentle reign of winter dusting, Sumire wades through the sea of placid smiles that characterize Dr. Maruki’s vision for reality. Once upon a time, she’d gladly been one of those smiles, living in blissful ignorance of the grief and loathing she ground her life to a halt with. But now that she’d found the strength within to accept what happened and build a life despite the pain, there can be no return to his way. That would be a disservice to the person she knew she could be, and to those who had stood by her side. She needed Ren to hear her swear that vow earlier today. Tomorrow, in the distorted halls of Paradise he had built, Dr. Maruki would hear it as well.
The familiar café comes into view; as ever the storefront is sparsely decorated and populated, yet that lent it a quiet dignity she has come to adore. The door opens, and to her surprise it isn’t yet another grin of idle contentment that exits but the wistful expression of Dr. Maruki, his classic taupe hair styled again to fall forward in his typical fashion. He must keep the slicked-back look exclusive to his image as the Palace ruler, she figures. Sumire spots the tail end of a red-and-black business card as his hand moves it into the front pocket of his jacket.
Looking both ways, Dr. Maruki turns and his eyes light up with recognition as he nods to her. “Ah, Yoshizawa-san… That ribbon suits you. Amamiya-kun and I were just talking about you, in fact. How’ve you been?”
“I’m doing well. Actually, I’m here to see him too.” Sumire flashes a measured grin and, with a quick shake of the wrist, Ren’s SP Adhesive 3. “He dropped his good-luck charm when I invited him over earlier, so I thought I’d get it back to him.”
Dr. Maruki matches the gesture with an easy smile followed by a light chuckle. “I’m glad to see he has such reliable friends.”
Sumire’s expression turns serious as she takes the early chance to fulfill a promise to herself. “While you’re here now, there’s… something I wanted to tell you, Dr. Maruki.” He raises an eyebrow expectantly. “When we first met, I wasn't able to handle that I was the one who survived. I hated myself for everything: for causing a situation where Kasumi could be killed, for stealing her dream, for being too worthless to accomplish it myself in her stead. I really did feel saved in that moment I became her. And it did, in a way, help me eventually come to terms with what happened.”
There’s a shift in his look, a contemplative grin usually reserved for when you appreciate receiving a gift even if it isn’t exactly what you’re looking for. Sumire sees a sign to elaborate. “I mean, if I had just stayed as Sumire, I don’t know if I’d’ve ever been able to meet Ren-senpai and my other friends, or face my parents or Coach Hiraguchi again… I may have just been stuck under my own misery until I…” Memories of those dark thoughts, the ones considered in the crushing grip of despair with no other evident way to loosen it, are not so far in the past that recollection does not sting a tear from her eyes.
Dr. Maruki is quick to offer a word and a wave of the hand, as if to chase those memories away. “It’s good to hear that my perspective has been of some use. Freeing you, and others like you, from that pain is the whole reason I’m doing this.” His voice, starting with the tone of a casual icebreaker, now shifts to genuine appreciation. “I’m glad you understand.”
Regaining her determination, Sumire continues, “But in spite of everything, I was able to find the means to move forward again, this time as myself. As Sumire.” As she returns Ren’s bandage to her school bag for safekeeping, her hand brushes against the shrine charm she bought in Hawaii. The hearth of her soul, rekindled from cinders and now bearing the name Ella, burns away the tears and manifests as an earnest, tender smile upon her face. “I’m going to show the world the best version of myself.”
Dr. Maruki’s smile from earlier frays at the ends, bowing slightly under the weight of a difficult subject soon to be broached. “That’s… what I was hoping I’d have a chance to talk to you about. Yoshizawa-san… I know that nothing about this has been easy for you. But are you sure that this is really what you want?”
“Dr. Maruki…?”
“Well, think about it like this,” he adds, responding to the confusion he hears in her voice. “At the start of your first routine during a meet, that’s when you have the most energy, right? That’s when you’re at the top of your game. But as you execute the movements, take the risks, that wears on your endurance. And no matter how strong they may be, people can’t maintain their strength forever.” Movement at the edge of her senses brings Sumire to a sudden awareness of her surroundings; the alleyway has grown a little more crowded than at the start of their conversation, a curious majority of the people present walking towards her. Each and every face that passes by bears the joy the good doctor prescribed for them. “In the world I create, that won’t be an issue. Everyone will be happy here. You can pursue your dreams without fearing they may be stolen from you.”
He’s using visual aids, then. “I appreciate your concern,” Sumire replies, “but I have to trust that I’ve got what it takes. I know that I do.” She has a visual of her own in mind she holds fast to: The electricity coursing through her as she performed her latest ribbon concept for Coach Hiraguchi and Ren, the fire with which she declared that she will stand atop the tallest podium of all, and the warm embrace that followed and fueled that fire anew.
Dr. Maruki sighs with the weariness of an argument oft repeated. “The road ahead in gymnastics will be harsh, with no guarantee that you’ll reach those heights. You could throw yourself at event after event for years and never qualify for finals; you could get injured, lose valuable time off your career, or even your career as a whole… Don’t you see that there are obstacles your will alone won’t always be able to overcome?”
“I know the risks,” retorts Sumire; she sees the opinion dressed in his descriptions, and it isn’t just about her athletics. A degree of hurt creeps into her tone and lowers its volume. “If that’s what my journey has in store, so be it. I won’t be alone, and I’m not so weak that I can’t handle adversity. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” She has Coach Hiraguchi, who had always been there to push her to each new limit and beyond as well as help her keep up with ever-changing rules and regulations. Her parents had always encouraged their children’s ambitions, and now she has the Phantom Thieves to confide in as well. To hear Ren tell it, they’d been cheering for her success long before her formal introduction to the group. Just as strong for her resolve to compete, to live, is the memory of one who no longer could. “Don’t forget, this is my dream, too.”
His plaintive tone remains unchanged, along with his core argument. “I just don’t want you to make things harder on yourself when it isn’t necessary. It saddens me to see you struggle like this.” Both Sumire and Dr. Maruki now cast their gazes down towards the ground, the failure to see eye-to-eye no longer simply metaphorical. Unable to find the words to compel him to hear her, Sumire simply says nothing; the doctor apprehensively takes the silence as a sign to continue. “What I mean is, it wasn’t that long ago that you lashed out at one of those people you say is on your side, because you desired to live as Kasumi so much… You’ve been made to endure so much pain, so much sadness, and, I’m sorry, but people don’t just get over trauma like that so quickly. As much as we may hope otherwise, in reality it’s not so simple.”
“Is that why you chose for Rumi?”
The accusation, spoken hastily, comes from a place far more crude, spiteful even, than she’s comfortable with, and the look on Dr. Maruki’s face suggests it’s his turn to feel words fail him. Sumire flinches from the aftertaste and her rising temperature but pushes through; she figures she at least owes him an explanation after invoking his lost love’s name like that. “I know Rumi-san said she wanted to forget her pain, but what if she’s changed her mind like I did? I think she needs support to help her pick up the pieces and stand on her own again.” She calms only slightly as her clarification lifts lingering tension off her chest, even if she hasn’t recovered from having been so forceful in the first place. “That’s really what I needed in the end, I think.”
“I understand how you can feel that way…” Dr. Maruki starts, and regardless of what motivated her jab Sumire hopes this new consideration means that she finally got through to him. “…but Rumi’s just one more reason why I have to use my power for the good of this world. For all its people, for Amamiya-kun, for your parents.” Her eyes widen, and his voice lowers. “They contacted me to arrange our initial appointment, to help you process what happened. And after having to bury one daughter, is it really so necessary for them to watch the other bury herself in this pain?”
She tells herself he only brings her family up out of genuine concern. Even so, she can’t help but feel deeply slighted by his line of inquiry. Dr. Takuto Maruki, fount of infinite compassion for all… Yet this conversation has only affirmed Sumire’s growing sense that she now occupies a blind spot to this kindness. He had been so comforting, so understanding during that first session; he even took her request literally, distorted as it was, and gave her a whole new lease on life, all wrapped up in a pretty red ribbon. Though ever since she pulled that ribbon loose, opted to grow beyond a life swaddled in the raiment of her deceased sister, he had – repeatedly now – all but stated that she cannot and will not follow through. To say nothing of those two days in the Palace, where he just stood by and watched as something strung her up and jolted her out of consciousness, along with everything else that happened between them…
Happened between…?
“Where was I before January 9th?”
Even fixed as she is on Leblanc’s welcome mat, Sumire can feel the pall that speaking this topic into existence casts upon Dr. Maruki and the world around her: the bracing chill of wintry wind as it brushes against skin that shouldn’t be exposed, the sudden freeze of conversation as it turns in directions that shouldn’t be explored. Neither persuasion nor instigation motivated it, yet the burning desire to shrink away from it and apologize is no less strong. Only a genuine need to reclaim those days from the abyss of the unknown holds her together.
“I didn’t – I wasn’t able to remember, and I just – I just don’t know...” She had wanted to be tactful about bringing this up, this shadow of uncertainty that held her back from expressing unreserved gratitude to Dr. Maruki. But his insistence on debating the state of her own mind deviated her script, and now that she’s here, she can find none of the preparation she’s made for this reclamation. Fear drives down her lungs, leaving room for naught but shallow, halting breaths. “I first went to the Palace with Ren-senpai and Akechi-san on the 2nd, right? W-we saw the video of the day Kasum…” The haunting memory clouds her eyes all over again, forms a lump in her throat that threatens to steal the rest of her words. She continues anyway. “…There was a… a Shadow? That grabbed me, a-and after that it’s – it’s blank for me, until I woke up as Ren-senpai said he wouldn’t accept your vision. Then I – I a-attacked him, like you said, because it felt like my whole world w-was falling apart, and then you…”
Sumire meets Maruki’s eyeline, suddenly able to acknowledge the doctor’s guiding hand in her disappearance and in her crossing steel with Ren, and the conflict written plainly on his face nearly shatters her resolve then and there. Twin constrictors, terrors born of not knowing where an entire week of her life went and of what may await when she gets that week back, tangle her vocal cords and she can’t continue any further. She can only repeat her initial question, each syllable fighting her tensing body for release. “W-what happened – Where was – ?”
She doesn’t get a response.
“Why won’t you tell me anything…?” Keeping the fever pitch of her warring emotions in check demands the poise possessed only by a girl she no longer is and never was. Sumire manages, just barely, as the cracks reduce her voice to a flighty whisper.
He finally speaks. “…You were safe.”
Just like always, Sumire Yoshizawa can’t keep her balance under the pressure.
“You held me in your Palace without my knowledge for a WEEK, USED me to…! WHY?! What gives you the right to treat me like this, to FORCE me…?!”
She sees the way he recoils at her outburst, and in an instant her bones reverberate with the siren’s blare as searchlights burn holes through her; she’s gone too far. Her lived experience, so long spent making herself small, redoubles its demands that she make nice, that she minimize her discomfort and assuage his feelings, and she finally relents. Already the “That didn’t come out right”s and “I didn’t mean it like that”s issue forth as rain during a monsoon, but Dr. Maruki’s hand falls to rest on her shoulder and bids the downpour end.
His magnanimous composure returns, no trace left behind of his previous turmoil. “I never had any intention of harming you; that only happened because I want to protect you. You couldn’t face the truth as you were that day, and I’m just worried that in the future you’ll end up in that same dark place all over again. Look, we really are on the same side. Why don’t you take a moment to just breathe before joining me for a longer chat?” He calls her attention to a nearby bench with a nod.
Sumire holds Dr. Maruki’s gaze for a time, truly contemplates him, and realizes that despite their eye contact he is not doing the same. What she sees in his eyes is, despite the extra layer of compassion, still the same briefly pitying stare she’s known all her life, this look that barely acknowledges Sumire before it leaves her behind. The gaze that doesn’t focus on the girl before it, but on a vision for what the girl could be, if only she could get with the program. Like the flashing cameras of years past, all he cares to see is an ideal, a girl that calls herself…
Kasumi.
The glass slipper fits to its rightful owner, and at last the picture is whole. How he can feel so deeply for a student called Yoshizawa and the trauma she’s suffered, even as he puts Sumire through so much more with his… his manipulation. The world of everyone’s happiness Dr. Maruki would create, she realizes, will have one exception. It’s a detail shared with the days when the cognitive filter scaled her eyes. A girl with red hair who loves rhythmic gymnastics will live, will joyfully pursue her dream of winning on an international level. But there will be nothing save six feet of dirt for Sumire Yoshizawa.
It’s pointless, she thinks as she curtly pulls away and moves past him to the door of Leblanc. “Like I said,” Sumire grits, her composure balanced on razor’s edge. “I appreciate that you gave me more time to figure things out. I hope we can leave it at that.” After all, why would he care how far a corpse thinks she’s come?
Opening the door and stepping through throws a brief pulsing sensation through Sumire’s head, set to the sound of glass shattering far in the distance. She’s still too agitated to dwell on it for long. Inside Leblanc she sees Ren standing between the counter and the booths, and already her nerves begin to soothe and her breathing approaches a comforting rhythm. But while she was outside arguing with Dr. Maruki, it would seem that Ren’s been deep in an emotionally wrought conversation of his own; his eyes are pools filled equally of frustration and worry at the sight of Goro Akechi. Ren has Akechi’s accusation of spinelessness hanging on his ears, and the SP Adhesive 3 hanging on his wrist. Her earlier fury turned to relief and now to confusion, Sumire clutches at her bag’s interior compartment and throws the latch open. Horror drowns all other emotion as she finds only the shrine charm within.
Whether it be by actualization, grasping tentacles, or just knowledge of what makes her tick gleaned through therapy, that man has always had a way of pulling her strings and making her dance. Violated shudders overtake her body, and the sobs won’t wait a moment longer.