Believe it or not, we're not speeding ahead to when I inevitably got my horrible exam scores. We'll start at the same night and then go to just the next day—so the 13th, then the 14th—since there was more stuff going on that adds context for things that happen later. Foreshadowing, if you want to call it that. Uh, nothing happened in school, so let's just skip ahead after school, around 4 if I had to guess when we're done with this. I explained it fine, right? If not then talk to the hand.
My lips smacked of the detergent that I'd used. Little rolls of cotton brushed against my cheek as I restlessly nestled deeper into the blanket. From the window came my reading light to see what I'd written in my notepad. Red light formed a goatee on me. Reaching down nearly had me kiss the speakers of the waiting phone.
"Hazama Kenji."
An asshole who had his full name on the nametag that had been rude to Hanasaki. Rejected, a buzz rumbling in my hand. I turned off my phone and rolled over.
The next day I shook my phone as if it were an etch-a-sketch that would do a full memory wipe all over the internet if I did it hard enough. It just made my arm tired. Lactic acid rolled down my body. I only knew what that chemical was because it was on the test; what molecule—lactic acid, remembered because one of my friends back home had worked out a lot (even when we were in middle school which I don't think you get any benefit from doing that) and would repeat stuff that he read from Tarzan at the counter of our nearest convenience store. He stopped responding to my calls a while back.
Right after the tests were done was a time of jubilee. Like Golden Week had come early, there was an intense emotional outpouring of kids being freed from their greatest responsibility. It wasn't universal, of course, but I'm stating that this was the time for intense emotions to be stoked. Heads were held in obscure corners while on the opposite side of the wall was a newly made couple making out. Even someone such as I could partake in the atmosphere. For me it was like being at a party that I wasn't invited to. Though nobody talked to me, I was still caught up in the slurry of happy remarks and freeing smiles and plans carried out.
Eavesdropping isn't a habit of mine. I couldn't care less about what random people were thinking. This probably protected me. Imagine if I actually knew exactly what people were saying about me! It became nearly impossible not to have some conversations catch your ear when the hallways were stuffed however, students sitting on the steps outside, even the bathrooms used to their fullest as little parlors. The school finally felt normal. It was in this normalcy that I got lured into a sense of false security. Mumble mumble, there was something and something talked about, he and her, what she and he did, be careful because the transfer student is looking this way, and—
"What do you think about the Phantom Thieves' site? Do you think they made it themselves?"
"You kidding me? It's obvious so they could get more attention."
"Such a lame title too. 'Phan'-site?"
Someone mimed gagging and everybody laughed.
I really tried ignoring it. But their inane ramblings were scratching at the back of my head when I was supposed to be using the very little money that I'd scraped up the day before for a victory dinner, the victory being not flunking out of Shujin. The whole thing was so strange that I needed to check.
Behind a sleek site styled primarily blue was a person who'd been inspired by my stint with Kamoshida. I'd call it 'devilishly inspired' in all honesty as I was staring at the work of a madman. Underneath a giant title pleading "REQUESTS" were, well, requests. Not too many have heard about it obviously. Only about fifty were posted and most of them were jokes. Standouts were:
"Every time I've tried taking a shit, there's been violent banging from the stall next to me. It's loud, rhythmic, and people are doing scary moans…I think that Hanako-chan is breaking into the boys' stall room! Please, Phantom Thieves, steal their hearts!"
"There's this really nasty bad guy who makes cat calls whenever I'm walking home. He's small, furry, and has killer teeth that could maul me if he could get past the iron gate. Phantom Thieves, you need to deal with this villain!"
"My ex left to Scandinavia without telling me anything. Halp pls?"
"Jeorge. Please, it'd be so funny."
Other than the obvious jokes was pleading—some of it. There were some that didn't detail out exactly who the target was which made them seem like they were also humorous; was this specific request asking for a specific 'Yuki' or was I about to make a tenth of Japan go out in a blackout overnight? Those that did provide details were of the most horrific variety. No murders—thankfully!—but that didn't mean I wasn't barraged with the lowest of society when reading through them. People who beat their partners, stalkers, and gropers were all listed out. Maybe I'm not the best person to stand on this soapbox and it's really preaching to the choir with any group, but I think that people should really invest in a nice, long, certain type of magazine if they're so horned up they can't think straight.
Maybe it was due to taking down Kamoshida-pervert that people thought I was the proper authority to stop it. Seeing my pseudonym being used was more confusing than anything. I'd implied it was a group to further distance myself from any would-be sleuths and now people were begging for this shell to kill their abusive dad. That confusion was half and half: there was definitely stress and confusion. I wasn't stressing out over the website itself. We all know how easy it is to make your own website. The problem was people's requests. These were horrible guys and gals. They needed to be dealt with. Was I supposed to be the one to deal with every single sex creep in Tokyo though? Instead of thinking through bit by bit, with the magical ability that we call logic, each thought became more and more disconnected from reality until I had been sucked into a self-made swirl.
These throwaway thoughts are ephemeral, as we know. Let me try to sum it up as ably as I can remember.
Kamoshida was a crime of passion. From day one it was all about taking those fists that pummeled me and turning them into trophies. These were not. People were asking for me to venture out into the Metaverse and do vigilante work. Fundamentally there was a different motivation between these two. I wasn't worried about being drunk on power rather than dipping my toes in a world that I didn't want to enter. The magic stuff was already freaky! Adding justice to the mix was asking for trouble! Weakly, I rebutted that these would still be for money. No! No! No! Emphatically, I retorted that it wasn't about the money, but seeing myself as Batman! No matter if I genuinely thought it was a job, that didn't change the actual function of the work being me, the guy himself, taking down people with impunity! Actually making it my job meant regularly searching out for scumbags that I could take down, judging people myself bad enough that they needed their desires taken. But isn't that what the Metaverse already did? If they had a shadow, then they were bad. But didn't a palace only mean that you had a certain view of the world? Didn't everybody have a palace? What would I do if I got into a borderline case, where there's a person whose view of reality is distorted but I personally don't find it offensive? Then I've become the judge of humanity that can't be stopped! With my power—or the app's power, if that's what you want to say—I have no oversight. Some stupid kid who stuck his neck out had the power to judge all of humanity.
Then it transitioned when I thought closer about the magical element. Think about my own experiences: I saw how much money could be made and immediately started thinking about how to make more. It was so cliche that I was just sitting there looking at nothing for a while when it struck me. Just by tasting this power, I'd changed. The change wasn't so violent like I've been possessed by a preta (it was pertinent to mention that I've seen preta wandering around the tunnels, by the way) yet I couldn't shake off the fact that upon seeing magic, I became entranced by it, ignoring the rightful fear from manipulating an alternate world. Fascinated, every waking day became centered around this.
Which is why I felt an intense guilt wash over me when I became resolved that if these requests were real, I'd exploit them. It gave me a reason to go to the Metaverse more. Going to the Metaverse let me earn money. The full names that were listed got jotted down into my notepad. But, I resolved, I wasn't going to sit still after this. If I were doubling down, then I was fully doubling down. I'd think of oversight, second guesses, all kinds of systems that would make sure my target was scummy. It'd never be perfect because I'm not a perfect guy, but just trying was enough to soothe my conscience.
As if the universe decided that I needed a pick-me-up, there was a scene playing out in front of me when I made the final verdict. Some girl was screaming in the face of some guy while her friend was backing her up. Both of them sounded familiar, but I couldn't place them.
"Are you going to continue stalking me or what?" she yelled. The crowd was parting around the scene, not wanting to witness the toothpick getting snapped in two by the delinquent.
"You misunderstand!" the blue-haired guy yelled back, much more passionately. "I desire you!"
"Don't you think you're skipping a few steps, pal!?" the delinquent screamed even louder. Some storeowners poked their heads out in curiosity with phones pressed against their ears.
"You're the perfect woman that I've been looking for! I've been inspired just by laying eyes on you! There is a perfect use for your body!"
Then came the predictable punch. Wham! Straight in the center mass. It couldn't have been that hard since the delinquent didn't use his feet, though I'm sure Mr. Perfect-Use-For-Your-Body would object since he was keeled over. As if waking up, the blonde duo realized how many people were watching and quickly ran away.
It was a hilarious scene. Brilliant even! Unless he was the least smooth actor this side of Tokyo, he had a completely different intention than they were thinking. I don't think people passionately stopped you on the street screaming about how they desired to enter carnal union with you; but, I offered as a rebuttal since I'd been doing that already for the past fifteen minutes, people generally didn't stop on the street and scream sexual innuendos in the first place. Obviously we were already dealing with a weirdo here. And we were also teenagers. The amount of embarrassing stories that I'd already gotten out of my job were so humiliating that I've blocked them out of my memory.
I didn't bother getting up to help either. He totally deserved that.
A nice car stopped by the curb. Its tinted window lowered. Behind was a man whose features were lost on me because I was entirely focused on the shape of his head. It looked like a bean. Yes, I swear, it had the exact curvature of a bean, the exact domes, and curved around the edges in a very bean-y way. I couldn't explain it even if I had a thesaurus in front of me. The whole thing just seemed to be a bean to its soul.
"What have I told you about reigning in your passion when talking with those outside the art-world, Yusuke-kun?" the man said, smiling. His voice was warm, with the same affection as if talking with his kid. "Remember that your quirks are considered as such even within the arthouse. Those outside revolt when interacting with true art, especially philistines—though even I've never been punched!"
Soft laughs escaped his mouth. The boy staggered back to his feet.
"Y-Yes, Sensei," he managed to mutter.
With my mood slightly better, I left to find a restaurant. Looking up the top reviewed ones was always boring! With how long I was going to be in Tokyo, leapfrogging to each one until I found the absolute best within an area was a great use of all the money I was going to be getting. At the bar of a sushi place I raised a glass of water to the Phantom Thieves. The sushi was okay.
The next day I worked again. I still felt at a fork with the Metaverse debacle. On the way home I shared some snacks with a homeless guy. I was starting to differentiate between the homeless who were normal and the ones who would probably leave me bleeding for 50 yen. If this seems weird, then know It's how I spent time back home. When I wasn't gaming or watching anime, I would just sit outside. The homeless back home were well-known. You could say it's just a habit to sit down near them and talk about things. They sometimes make good conversation partners on a good day. Others not so much. Others would alternate. Sometimes I'd sit down myself and enjoy the sun. Afterwards I went home and played phone games and talked with my friends for the rest of the day.
School came the next day. I tried not worrying about my exam scores and Metaverse shenanigans by playing a game during lunch. Class was so boring that I went back to thinking about them by the end of the day.
It was only by chance that I eavesdropped again when I was coming home. After locking my bike I walked towards the shop. Occasionally Sojiro would prop the door open when it was moderate outside, something about keeping the air conditioning bill lower. For the entire time I'd been there it had only happened two times because of the horrendous heat or mugginess that made it worthless. It was his voice tinged with frustration that made me stall. Just out of sight, I waited.
A gruff voice, low, simmering with anger, spoke with terse words. "You're saying that I can't do anything for him?"
The other one was calm. She didn't seem to mind being targeted. If anything, there was a vindictive syrup that made my heart beat faster. "Let's break this down as slowly as possible: this is the only school that'll take him. He's already in a precarious position. From the school's perspective, so long as he's receiving education, they're doing their jobs."
"And leaking somebody's record is legal?" Sojiro growled.
"It is not. They flagrantly broke the law whether through negligence or purposeful action. But to prove that the school as a whole is liable from your position? Good luck. Though they're rather unpopular at the moment, Shujin is still a prestigious school—it's where my sister goes, after all. Proving that the staff was responsible against their legal team is impossible within your means." She must've taken a sip of her coffee as she was silent for a moment. Ceramic clattered. "It's not as if he's a second-class citizen. Right now he's off celebrating having passed his exams and most likely playing with his friends. You also have gone above and beyond most by hosting him here."
There was a long moment when I could only hear the television.
"It just feels wrong seeing a kid treated like this."
Once again ceramic grinded against ceramic. "You're not wrong for thinking that way but don't let that cloud your judgement. Injustices happen everyday. I assume that a man like yourself knows that sometimes we have to suck in our gut, especially since you'll only have guardianship over this person who isn't even your kid: love your neighbor but don't tear down your fence. Hm. I'm considering pulling my sister from it because of this conversation. Between the Kamoshida story and this, it sounds as if gross incompetence runs from the roots to the top."
Even if I really wanted to enter, it would've been awkward to waltz in now, ten minutes from then, thirty minutes from then, so on. I was extremely antsy about being revealed to be a no-good eavesdropper and probably went too far in covering up my tracks. I set out into the city again with no other idea in mind other than to ride.
Riding was fun. Though my legs consistently turned into unwrapped bundles of flesh and bone, being out doing action was exhilarating. 'Action' didn't mean the action movie stuff of the Metaverse but just simply acting in a way that I was unused to. Being on a bike made large swathes of the city pass by my fingertips as opposed to being in a train car or four-vehicle vroom vroom car, with their windows like gigantic paintings that played by; paintings of places that you weren't in, places where you couldn't touch, to the point where I was scared about taking my driver's license test because the world outside a car didn't feel real. Biking felt like walking, fast walking. Walking where entire lanes would sometimes be yours to explore. The chain made a fun sound when I frequently stopped pedaling, loving the experience of moving without moving. I traveled through districts that I'd never been before. I loved the feeling.
The next day I was waffling at my desk after school. Polls were on the fansite (FAN with an 'F' because I am not doing that dorky pun) which asked various questions around the Phantom Thieves. Were they just, this and that, mostly things which were overwhelmingly unpopular opinions. I'd imagine that a good amount of the positive votes were ironic too since the site only tracked by IP. Hundreds of anonymous people visited to leave a gigantic 'NO' on each of the polls before forgetting about the site forever. People with epic personalities surely have set up bots to flood the polls with their preferred answer. At least one must've done that. I refused to believe that the site was so unpopular that trolls weren't flooding it.
A shadow fell over me. Kawakami looked horrible as always, though I could appreciate that she generally hid it as best as possible. Only a pair of students were standing at the doors which gave us about as much privacy as possible.
Almost demurely, she asked, "remember what I mentioned about the therapy sessions being mandatory for some students?"
"No."
"Then I'm repeating it now: some students are required to see Dr. Maruki. That includes you."
"Why?"
She gave me a stern stare for even daring to ask that yet answered anyways. "It's because you had an interaction with Kamoshida."
"Once." I thought about it for a second before amending, "twice."
"It's not my decision. They decided that I was the messenger though," she said, somewhat bitterly.
She was still my second favorite teacher. Having the guts to act like that in school really inspired me to give even less attention towards people I didn't care about. I decided to cut the middleman out and walk down to the therapy room myself, or whatever that place is supposed to be called.
Walking down the switchback stairs made me unable to see who was waiting—not really waiting as she just was walking by—at the very bottom. Most would be able to pick her out from a crowd. Liberal yet conservative understanding of the dress code tended to do that. If you don't understand what I mean, think about it like this: there are the delinquents that like wearing a graphic tee of Hello Kitty and boots that clearly were longer than regulation. Then there were those who might've been the models for the example pictures after rigorous study before we even came to our first day of class.
So when I'm talking about liberal yet conservative, I mean that this person was dangerous. Creative yet a stickler for rules, she wore a white long-sleeved shirt alongside a black blouse. Nobody else wore that. Most girls opted to just customize the blazer, or to bring their own blazer that fit regulations. This girl created an outfit which stuck out from the crowd while also remaining within the letter of the law. Dangerously liberal in act, respectfully conservative with her knowledge. I'm not heaping praise on her for no reason. I'm just giving respect where respect is due.
"Kurusu-san. I've been looking for you." She adjusted the pile of textbooks that she was carrying. They nearly stacked above her mouth without any indication she was struggling. "How are you getting acclimated to the school? Has it been fine? No problems?"
What a loaded question! The problems were immense and the grievances would never be addressed! If I didn't take down Kamoshida, then he would've never faced justice for what his shadow did to me. Most importantly, there's a vending machine in one of the hallways that stole some of my money once. People didn't enter that hallway when I started banging on it.
"It's school," I said with a shrug.
Obviously that wasn't the right answer with how scrunched her face became. It's as if she were trying to parse through that, thinking about its implications and double-meanings, when I'm as two-faced as a floor. Eventually she decided on a resting bitch-face that kept a facsimile of a smile.
"I was just asking around about the time when Kamoshida was arrested. People said that you were there when the notice was posted," she said.
"What notice?" I asked.
"The one which said that Kamoshida's," she seemed to go through convulsions even being near to admitting that magic was real, "heart being stolen."
"Which one?" I asked.
She stared through me. "Which one?"
"There were multiple right?" I held out my fingers and counted down. "There was the one on the billboard and then all those posts online."
She got in my face. It wasn't easy with the books being in front of her, but she got near enough that I could smell the library from them. "Posts?"
Lying as easily as I breathed, keeping the perfect tone of skepticism, I said, "you don't spend a lot of time online, don't you? There were a bunch of people complaining about something he did before that. Uh, wasn't it complaining that he was responsible for the girl jumping or something? I don't know. I wasn't here long enough to make sense of them. There was a lot of complaining about him pretty shortly after I arrived though."
"Maybe that's how he was chosen as a target," she mumbled to herself. I could only hear because of how close we were. Those red eyes snapped back to me. "However, I was referring to the billboard. You were there. Anything that you have to say about that?"
My eyebrow rose at the aggressive question. You'd have to be there to understand. It was in her tone, nearly incriminating while maintaining the sweetness of a loan shark. This was a person who smelled blood in the water. That blood was merely my title as the delinquent. You know when you play a social game where you're the killer or something, and somebody suspects you based on a hunch instead of any legitimate reason? That's how I was feeling.
It was immensely hard to keep any annoyance out of my voice. From the way that her lips thinned, I didn't fully succeed. "Sorry, who the hell are you?"
"Niijima Makoto. I'm the student council president." Normally this would be the part where I'd respond with a 'good to meet you'. Please be gracious to me. I was already annoyed with having to visit the therapist. I simply stared, waiting for her to make her point. "I've talked with your teachers. You've been attentive in class and besides the extraordinary amount of days missed already, have passable grades. I have to wonder: is this your best attempt at reform, or are you maintaining the same educational outcomes after the move?"
"Ain't you well-studied," I grumbled. "It's the same, by the way. Other than missing school a few times, I'm doing about the same. Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but is there a point to this? You're the student council president and everything, which I think means that you don't make it a habit of talking with the school pariah willy nilly. Are you checking up on me or something?"
She rolled her shoulders around. I couldn't imagine that her relatively thin body was doing well keeping those books up. "Yes, that's exactly right."
"And there ain't a better time than on the stairs when you're carrying those?"
She looked to the stack as if just realizing that it was there, and finally recognized the amount of people who were sidling behind me. Just as many were waiting for the fireworks to start, the pricks. It must've been something in the air or they'd (correctly) judged our personalities to know this was a fire in a flour factory.
Sure enough, her little smug lifts of her voice as if she were cornering me were fire.
"My apologies. I just wanted to get an overview as to how you managed to be right there when Kamoshida-san was reading the threat. It's strange how he seemed to have immediately picked you out from the crowd," she said.
"The fuck you saying?" I asked.
Her nostrils expanded. She didn't like cursing, if it weren't obvious.
"I'm simply thinking out loud. You can interject if you want. There's plenty who have agreed how Kamoshida-san seemed to have known you were the most suspicious among the gathered students. Isn't that strange?"
"Are you blaming me for getting manhandled?" I squinted to remember the best I could, the people who'd been gathered there. It'd been her red eyes that were most recognizable. Red crept in around my vision. "Oh, I remember you now! Weren't you the one who looked like she was going to cry when he yelled at you?"
I'd gotten her to shut up which was the primary goal, momentarily.
"I was not crying!" she yelled. It had started quiet, yet she once again forgot where we were arguing.
"It's a sensitive topic that you acted like a big baby, huh?"
There was a long, deep breath through her nose where she reigned herself in. "We're straying off topic. I'm asking a simple question: why did Kamoshida target you? It couldn't simply be your reputation, which is well-earned, by the way."
That was the final straw of acting civil. Each of the steps were smashed down. I approached her so that our noses were nearly smashed together.
"The fuck do you mean by that?"
"Are you looking at yourself right now? You're lording over me, flexing your muscles like some kind of thug." Her head was slightly lowered, and I recognized that those eyes weren't slightly cowed. She genuinely thought that this was fine. "What are you even doing here? Do you think that good students get into fights on campus?"
"I've seen good students. They aren't prissy fucks that come swinging with insults. Who the hell are you to do that? Does anyone like you? Couldn't imagine that anyone would love you the second your shitty mouth opens."
"You're—"
Whatever she wanted to say was cut off when I yelled over her. "I'd suggest that you approach someone a little bit more tactfully next time instead of accusing them of asking to be assaulted!"
"Assaulted?" She barked a laugh. "Please stop being so melodramatic when so many people have had it worse than you. It's embarrassing to pretend that you're oh-so abused when there's so many worse cases around here."
"Oh, sorry, I just got my stuff smacked out of my hands. Big difference! Guess that means I can't have a complaint either."
"You're just throwing a tantrum. There's people other than you around here. It's not as if you've done anything that can be at all construed to be sympathetic. You've been a dangerous liability. I wonder how the school hasn't thrown you out yet!"
My fists clenched as I stopped myself from even thinking about doing the same to her books. Don't mention it, don't mention it, don't mention it! Do not even think about it! I continued urging myself until I saw her reaction: a roll of her eyes.
"Oh, so now I deserve it? Fuck do you know? What if I smacked down your books right here? I bet you'd start crying like a big fucking baby like before, right? Just—" I mimed pushing towards them.
She jerked backwards, nearly letting the pillar fall. "Don't you even dare!"
"Then fuck off! Go suck on the—" I cut myself off as I very, very, very nearly said something that was a little too far even for me. See, I have a brain. Long term thinking and the like. I just didn't use it very often. "Just fuck off, you stupid prep bitch! Go to whatever study group that'll suck your dick for rolling over and letting the teachers use you like a little tool, 'cause those are probably the only people that'll tolerate your shitty personality. Bet you've got a heart of coal that even those fucking Phantom Thieves don't want to touch, cunt!"
For those that can see the writing on the wall, I'm still not the smartest person because I never thought about things like how she was freely maneuvering around with the unwieldy textbook pile, or that her face was quickly turning into the same color as her eyes, or that she was similarly escalating alongside me instead of backing down like a 'prep bitch'. That was the day that I learned the school's president wasn't some flower who'd made it to the top through demurely bowing before the school's faculty; I mean, she totally did, but that wasn't how she was as a person. It was only through effort that she could make her personality mold into a social climber.
The books fell by themselves. Babel collapsed brick by brick, exploding into a pile once it fell onto the floor. Pages fluttered amongst the gasps that echoed through the hallway.
Her arms were tensed, letting me see ridges develop through the thick shirt that normally created little noodles—maybe intentional so that she didn't stand out. Like wrestlers posing for a picture our heads very nearly butted against each other. Those red eyes being lit with fury made for an intimidating combination with her whole demeanor. Standing inches above her undercut that advantage. I'm sure the healing bruises and cuts that I'd gotten from the Metaverse gave me the same aura.
I hope that this doesn't take away the fact that I actually held myself back from insulting her earlier. I don't normally think and I think terribly, that much is true. I scoured through a magical dungeon with the threat of death looming over me for the sole purpose of revenge, that is also true. And I closed the rest of the distance ready to push her over. A hair's distance maybe. My hands were prepared. Fighting in the Metaverse must've bled over into real life because every dirty tactic possible flitted through like I was going through a catalogue. The eye today, sir? Women feel it when you kick them in the crotch too.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Thankfully, there was very discrete yanking on the controls in my head.
"What are you doing you fool!?"
"You're gonna get expelled and I'm not claiming that! Not me! It wasn't my fault!"
But that made me feel even more spiteful. Yeah! I hated that it was the smart thing to do! I hated that there were restraints both inside myself and outside that prevented me from escalating even further, from looking like the weak one.
So I first backed off. Let us both cool off. Coming down, her shocked eyes finally took in the people that were behind me, the people around us, and realized that we made a spectacle for the entire school. That's what I was waiting for. Walking around her, I made sure to kick one of the books.
"Pick these up. You're making a mess of yourself," I said.
Both of us exercised restraint then. Just because she was the one who didn't punch me in the back of the head when I walked away didn't take away from my own show of restraint. I'm not going to minimize my completely stupid actions but it needs to be acknowledged that fights were not when a person was at their best—Kamoshida's aside, of course, where I was a complete badass. The plans I made off the cuff were worthy of an Order of the Chrysanthemum and maybe a Nobel Peace Prize if we're feeling generous.
I realized that I could've been kicked out of school the next day when I slammed out the front door. Obviously I didn't go over to Maruki's office. Snacks or not, I wouldn't stick around school after that. I didn't want to go home in case there was a phone call after Sojiro was batting for me. There was no work. All the money that I'd made was spent. So really unless I wanted to text my friends outside bumming off free wifi, there was only one place that I could go.
Mementos was the same as it had been the previous time and it was sort of foolish to expect anything else. From the little that I'd explored Kamoshida's palace, it seemed like the Metaverse was an unchanging entity which only molded into what happened based off reality or, to put it less pretentiously, it didn't change. It did change but it didn't change for itself. Like, reality is reality, and reality has a bunch of stuff happening in it which makes other stuff in reality happen. Unless there's a person forcefully changing the Metaverse, the Metaverse will happily continue as it does until the end of time. Basically it's dependent on reality. Cognition can be changed either through the person going through something or me shooting their big fat stupid shadow in the face.
"Inmate!"
There was a yell to my left. One of the twins was sitting on top of the door, swinging their legs.
"Is there a problem?" I asked.
"When are you going to fuse Personas? You're going further and further from your rehabilitation. Don't make this any harder on yourself than possible."
I was still sore from the whole thing. "The fuck you bringing it up for?"
"Just stating what we all see." She spat out a glob of air. "Eventually you're going to hit a wall and it's going to be pathetic. Get used to fusing now and make it easier for yourself later."
"...no thanks."
An eyebrow rose. Yeah, I was not at the top of my game after nearly getting socked by the student president. Even the little magical girl could sense that something was wrong.
"Inmate," she forcefully said, "avoiding ruin is our greatest goal. It's the summation of everything that we're trying to accomplish. Your rehabilitation may be second, but it's the easiest towards thwarting ruin. If it's in our power to accomplish, then we shall do so. That's why we've gotten permission from our master to survey the locations of your rehabilitation."
"Survey…?"
"As in coming with you to various places where you spend the majority of your rehabilitation at. We're thinking of some places such as the purveyor of the coffee arts, one of those space places which serve cows, or that park which you've visited. Do you understand?"
I understood alright. With barely any longer than a glance, I walked down the escalators as she started yelling. Once I made it to the top of the stairs, I smiled to myself, not looking back.
"Sorry, but I'm only interested in older women."
With a mad dash that was greater than I pulled off in Kamoshida's palace, I hefted the bike on my lap and leapt onto the railing. Cold bit against my butt as I sped down faster than could ever be achieved in real life. It was like biking except way more fun. No pushing your legs or keeping balance. Pushing back felt like sitting in a movie theater without the Coke and popcorn. Even keeping the bike's handles from dragging on the railing didn't take much effort past lifting it up a little.
From the top of the staircase came one last scream.
"You have to come back up here, you know!"
Doing the routine once already made it feel like routine. Get on the bike and start riding. Check the notepad to make sure that the area was the same.
Already I was frowning when the path at the bottom changed from what I'd sketched out—once again making my notes feel a little superfluous. Left or right didn't exist on my map yet the tracks had taken a deviation. Nothing could be done though. No boss existed who I could complain to and throwing a tantrum in the air felt too childish even for me. So once the bike pressed against the flat concrete, I started biking off. Doing it so much the past week made me learn fast. There were ways to adjust your speed, adjust your power, and so I did the lightest work possible as I took the left path. Exploring the whole place would require me to learn how to conserve energy. With that in mind, I also started avoiding the shadows which looked too weak to have much of anything. Judging shadows' strength from afar became a skill that I started consciously training. Too weak and they'd just waste effort while not giving me money; too strong and they'd kill me. This was entirely based on the same skills of a nature documentary guy saying "woah, that's a big stinkin' shadow," so don't think that I was expertly weighing every enemy. The floor went much faster than it did last time and I was on the second without too much issue, 120 yen richer.
The second floor was bluer. Not much else I could say in that regard. Whatever toxic chemicals that were shortening my life span by weeks at a time melded together into a blue somewhere between the sky and the Velvet Room's glow. This one felt a little more thick, if that made any sense. Each wave of my hand felt like moving through water. Lights were muffled, seeping through invisible lines that flitted around the air, spiraling threads that I couldn't see. It created that effect that you get inside the aquarium everywhere. I'd almost call it calming if one of those hulking shadow monsters weren't shambling just where the fog cut my vision off.
The honk felt like my heart pulsated with each beep beep. On the rails was a tiny car, vintage looking yet I didn't recognize the model. Looking closer gave the impression that it was the same kind of plastic that a remote controlled one would have, though the lights which looked like those face-melting LEDs dissuaded any silly thoughts asking if it ran. For goodness' sake, the engine's rumble sounded like a lion growling. Packed in the back seat were more suitcases than I'd ever seen in one place all tied together with a net of ropes.
"Hey! Thanks for opening the second floor! That was you, right?"
Just when I was trying to make sense of the star balloons that were affixed to wherever the car could hold them, the kid actually driving it started honking again. It was like a cute and tiny baby goose. What was it called again? Goose-let? That's what it sounded like. The kid himself had the strangest bowl-cut of gray hair with a jagged hairline, yellow eyes, and somehow was even smaller than the twins. He kind of looked like a mascot inspired by Astro Boy, a little bit. Don't think too hard about that.
"Another one of you mystical not-humans, huh?" I asked.
"You already know? That shows the power of humans. It took me a while before I could even recognize one of you." He held a hand up and waved it around again. "I'm Jose! I want to learn more about humans so I'm collecting flowers. Do you have any?"
"No?" I felt around my pockets. Roses went with…something. Needed to double-check with Hanasaki, I noted in my head. "I don't think they grow down here."
"But I smell them on you."
That was weird enough that I replayed the entire trip into Mementos back. Walls, walls, walls, red, red, red, shadow, shadow, shadow, coins, coins, coins, there were perhaps some mystical glowing thing that I picked up. Even once it entered my pocket the things still remained translucent. I saw them the first time into Mementos but was too afraid of approaching them.
"This?" I asked, taking one out. Looking at it closer made me feel like an idiot. They were totally flower shaped.
"That's the one! Tell you what: I'll give you the same deal as the other ones. If you give me more flowers, then I'll trade them for stuff!"
"Money?"
The word instantly slipped out.
He looked up, thinking about it, before giving a wide smile. "Sure! Money! I know how you humans love that!"
"10,000 yen a piece, right!?"
That made him narrow his eyes. I think that it was meant to be in thought, though something about the kid made me wary. Most likely he packed magical power in that stupid-looking jacket of his. "Are you trying to get a lot of stuff out of me? 10,000 for one is way too much! I'd be willing to trade one yen for one flower."
"I'm not trying to scam you!"
Well, I was, but one yen is a bigger scam than 10,000. Realizing what I just tried to do, my conscience came kicking with a vengeance. Picking flowers wasn't too hard even with the shadows walking around. A little stealth, a little intimidation, presto! I'd been skirting around the morally dubious side of kicking people's teeth in and taking names, along with violence that normal people only experienced if they were in a war zone. Morals bit me, through those wide yellow eyes that were too similar to a kid's. This kid had given me an easy way to sustain myself and I'd immediately tried extorting as much money as possible.
With that I ceded a little. "Yen doesn't have an exact value. It's used to exchange things. So when we use yen, we show that something is more valuable than something else. For example, this bike here would be less yen than that car."
The kid clapped his hands together. I liked him. He was way more pleasant than the twins who randomly tormented my dreams.
"What splendid knowledge! And I didn't even have to drink any flowers for that! Thank you very, very much. That's what humans say, right?"
My lips twitched. "Maybe tone down on the 'very'. Very shows you're 'very' grateful. 'Very, very' grateful is being super grateful."
"Oh, but I'm super grateful to you! So I'm very, very thanking!" He stood up in his seat and held out his hands. "So if this yen is showing the value and you were carrying them around without knowing what value they were, I think then they'd be zero yen!"
It was hard to suppress the shudder that threatened to make me collapse. I, not desperately, stepped forwards and yelled, "no! No! You're the buyer now! Seller, I mean. Er, wait, I'm confusing myself. Buyer, buyer! You're the buyer. So we need to decide together how much the flowers are. So, uh, they seem to be everywhere but I have to stick my neck out every time to get one. It also takes time. I'm paid 3,200 yen for my safe flower shop job. Why don't we price each flower at 1,000 yen?"
"That's a whole lot less than you were asking for earlier, mister!"
"Because that's what bartering is!" I gave my best impression of the salesman's smile. "Bartering means that we talk until we reach an agreement."
The humiliation of having to haggle with a kid wasn't lost on me. There was humiliation too in the exuberantly happy leaps of my heart as he spoke, punctuating each syllable with a honk. "Great idea!"
That's how I got my third part-time job. After exchanging the goods, I pocketed down 4,000 yen. Within the hour that it took to explore the first floor, I'd already made more than I could make at the flower shop. My heart swelled in happiness as the bills played between my fingers while Jose was getting snug back into his seat.
"I'll be down on the lower floors looking for flowers on my own while you search. Thanks a lot, mister!"
"No, thank you very, very much. I can't even explain how much this means to me."
"I probably wouldn't understand it," he admitted. With a parting enthusiastic goodbye, his little car sped down the tunnels much faster than I'd ever be able to accomplish.
Yes, there was a discrepancy in that conversation: "other one". There was another person who Jose knew. Smart cookies would recognize that. I'm not a smart cookie so that didn't really click with me and I happily boarded my bike with the awareness of a parakeet. It seemed like with one fell swoop, I'd done the impossible and fit together everything without compromising myself. No moral dilemma existed since the flowers were probably not the souls of the damned. Gathering flowers was way safer than invading people's minds—where they were the strongest. Standing there with a fair wind leading me deeper, I felt like the world was riding alongside me. This crappy day had turned around to become a great one.
Traveling down there was a bit harder than the one above. As the air became thicker, pedaling became harder. What could've coasted me by needed a little more pump before the bike scurried along. Misjudging this caused me to spill multiple times. The only consolation was that unlike the real world, I didn't have scrapes lining my hands and arms that made it seem like I had permanent battle scars. The only fight that I entered was hard enough to leave me puffing for breath yet never having feared for my life. Flowers abounded! Those strange things glimmered in such a peculiar way that there seemed to be a sphere manifesting around them. Little lighthouses called out to me as I biked through the increasingly complicated hallways, sometimes leading me into fights because I was way too enthusiastically chasing them.
An hour of picking passed. Now that I had a target, every corner needed to be explored. It made me find the first of many oddities that I'd see during my travels. Reality looked to have fallen apart. I'm not talking as if there was a spot to noclip out, but that there was a very real point of "NO RETURN" in capital letters, bolded text, and glowing like a neon sign. The tunnel fell out of existence as the rails were twisted into ugly art pieces. Looking straight through the center made some silhouettes perhaps visible but those were lost in the demanding red light, so loud that it looked like a physical wall. Black energy sank towards an invisible horizon point.
Standing at its mouth made me finally realize where the wind was coming from. Not from above, not from below. These oddities were sucking in the air so strongly that it could be felt even at the entrance. Dust, never a problem in fights, manifested from nowhere just so it could fall into the gaping maw. Just standing there made me feel antsy. The floor suddenly felt like not-real Jello again. I grasped onto one of the twisted railways and tried looking into it. The closer I got the more violent the suction became.
An executive decision was made.
"Nope."
And then I walked away.
Flower picking continued. Flower one. Flower two. At some point I was just trying to find the boy, gleefully carrying 8,000 yen in my pockets. One flower, two flower, three flower, I imagined myself counting as I drifted off into sleep that night. They jingle jangled in my pockets like they were metal but turned into the most fine satin in my hands. One thousand yen, two thousand yen, three thousand yen, I hummed to myself in a make-believe song as I rode further down. I'd spent hours in the tunnels, taking so long to find the exit because I was making it a point to explore towards every dead end.
Ominous sounds started echoing around the tunnels. At first, I thought that it was a quirk of the place. Like I said earlier, the place is strange in a bad way. Turn one corner and there's a not-human pretending to be human. Turn another corner and there's a wormhole. Mementos always throws bad surprises while Kamoshida's palace was mostly predictable, besides the depravity consistently finding new ways to gross me out. I watched Woman in the Dunes; not willingly, mind, but I watched it and kind of understood about half of it. Impressing the girl who recommended it seems like a stupid goal looking back. Point is that I understood those abstract concepts enough to make a rule for it. You can even make this an official rule: if you only have one example or explanation for a thing, then take it literally. The Metaverse is based off human cognition? Sure, boss. Whatever you say. Steal the treasure because it's a person's desire? Why not? That happens, I'm sure. Collective unconscious. Sounds like multiple different unconsciousnesses, which makes perfect sense to somebody I'm sure.
The point is that I wasn't worried about the chains until I came to an intersection with the hulking monster floating there. We waited as if it was a four way stop. Dirty rags brushed against the floor. The chains floating around its body clanked off each other louder than metal that size should've. One of those was wrapped around its neck like the Americans like doing. Two revolvers were held by both hands—also what Americans like doing. A bag was over its head. Two out of three. Seems American.
I amended the statement when its wrist flicked up and nearly shot my head off. Shoot first without even talking. American. Definitely American.
With one leg pushed against the ground, I spun the bike around and gave myself a start with a great push. Telling prudence to shove it, each pump was given as much energy as they could, speed rivaling a car as I flew down the hallway. All the while I could hear the chains. Given a moment to breathe, I realized that they never became louder or quieter. That entire time it had been announcing its presence, uncaring to mask itself. I interpret it to be a brag but it's not like the voiceless creature was going to confirm one way or the other.
Another pistol blast carved out a chunk of the ground that I had to hastily swerve around. Then another nearly clipped my ear off, grinding to a halt after digging in a straight few meters in the wall. My body laid against the frame as low as I was able, learning from the pros who do the same. From that point on he never let up from the artillery. Horrible shot sure, but pure terror made my hands freeze clenching the bars with each close call. Whizz. Whizz. Thus came sounds only my ancestors were supposed to hear. Each bullet acted like an explosion that I could feel when it landed. Bang! Bang! The trigger leapt. A bullet hopped. Sweat ran down my back.
I tilted my entire body around a turn. My memory wasn't faulty. With the web of similar-looking tunnels in the back of my head, I plotted out a course with the most curves possible. Keeping any sort of cover between the two of us was the only way I could escape. If the scary shadow could create craters with barely a movement, then I wasn't sticking around to find out how I was going to take those bullets. Even in the moment I recognized that my fear was unnatural, sickly. It made me bike harder which was the only thing that mattered at that moment.
I knew when the shadow had turned the corner when the barrage began again. Heat washed over my back, a fireball that nearly stretched across the entire tunnel flying over me. Really, this was just the greatest showing of his lack of skill, missing with an entire truck's worth of heat. I didn't think so at the time, especially when the fire landed and created a volcanic eruption. Little burning flecks of black flew from the body like meteors. Those flames which survived past the initial impact remained burning, keeping themselves alive through the sheer heat. Hell descended. One arm pressed against my mouth as I passed through the glimmering veil. Prickles tapped my back as each sweat drop evaporated. With the fires blocking my vision, I could only swerve around and hope that none of the lava-looking stuff touched my wheel. Pain drew down both my arms as I cut one too close. Not caring, I burst through the other end with a gasp. Fresh air. The fires had apparently been burning the fresh oxygen, my beleaguered lungs told me.
Bullets still peppered around, though now hitting randomly. The shadow's vision was blocked—and how that worked when it had a bag over its head, you tell me—which made him wantonly fire as if he didn't care about ammunition. My smaller frame most likely made me barely more visible than a gnat. Whatever taunts I thought of were held when he walked straight through the fire, both revolvers already raised. Up ahead was a curve that I braced for. The turn was taken violently as the bullets cratered into the wall next to me. Each piece of concrete crunching under the tile made me shudder.
Unfortunately the escape couldn't be absolutely perfect. Just around the corner was one of the normal shadows I'd been beating up. With barely a second's warning, I ducked my head down and smashed straight through its body. Smoke discolored black ran down the crooks of my arms and fell into the tracks. Most of the shadows that popped out were laying on the ground behind me, disorientated.
One was draped on my handlebars. It was mostly flat, glowing, and I got the impression that it wasn't supposed to be laid down like a paper. The 'head', two red swirls on a circular surface, turned towards me. Whatever attack it was charging at its fingertips was never going to be as dangerous as getting headshotted by a howitzer, but I didn't want a distraction. My arms braced. In a move only for stuntmen, my entire body was lifted up, my butt hovering above the seat. The shadow must've known what was coming as it started raising its hands to protect its head.
"Get," my legs curled, then struck, "off!"
The little shadow flew forwards, bouncing twice against the tracks, before getting run over by my bike wheel. Letting out a whoop, I looked back as I lowered down on the seat.
The giant shadow had turned the corner. Its revolvers played around its hands for a moment. Then, lightning. Each one aimed for two different shadows. They barely had a chance to scream before blowing up in black gunk like they normally did. It took only three shots to down the three shadows. The little guy who I left behind raised his hand like I'd come back to help before getting shot through the body. Its glowing cyan dissolved into black.
For the fifth shot it raised its revolver and aimed towards me. Unlike all the other ones, this hit.
I only knew that something was wrong when my face hit the floor. It dragged on each of the wooden boards driven into the ground before getting peppered by rocks. Hammer hit anvil and the rail track next to me was blown clean off. Rolling, I felt the rocks pepper my back as the seventh shot bent a rail into a 90 degree angle. I pushed myself up and yanked off the mask.
Arsene formed without complaint. Before he could even fully form, he was missing a head. I was wishing it hit me instead as the bullet felt like it ripped through my eye and stayed there. My left felt lopsided, metal replacing flesh, as I nearly tripped while getting up. Once the first step was taken, the next was easier. Then the third became instinct as my feet beat faster than I'd ever done before. Leaning low to the ground made a slash of lightning that looked to be a glowing spear arc straight over my head. The explosion made by that was no less glorious, though this time the dust it kicked up fully obscured the tunnel. I reached down to pick up the bike as I went on by. Why? I don't know. Waste of money leaving it behind, I guess.
For one breath I could take the giant shadow was striding across the tunnel. When I reached the next corner, the chains had finally become louder. I could hear the grunts underneath the hood as if moving around the revolvers was a chore. It wasn't very careful and would let the barrels scrape against the rail every so often, making a discordant screech. Pure panic was the only thing which moved me along. Even through the Metaverse's comforts I could feel my legs giving out. A step on slightly uneven ground nearly made me collapse. Brushing against the wall wrong had me lean down while still running, as if I were a baby without back strength.
The final turn was right at the platform. I threw the bike up there and leapt up with the last of my energy. It wasn't as if I were out of the fight. Immediately I began crawling, ripping off my mask and letting Bicorn come into existence. His head lowered so I could hook a hand around his horns. With a maneuver that even I couldn't fully explain, I was on his back. Not riding, no. My entire body laid flat alongside him, leaning against his neck more than keeping myself secure.
Death was right there. Its breath came heavy, revolvers impatiently tapping against the platform. It looked down at the bike before looking back up at me. I forgot to breathe and stared back. Billions of times the predator found the prey. The prey watched. The predator waited. I'm sure less than half of those the predator just walked away, finding something more interesting.
I waited. Waited. Waited some more. My hands beat against the smooth hair of Bicorn. It didn't come back. Death had seen me and deemed me beneath his notice.
Getting back up to the surface was a thoroughly humiliating process which I'm not going to explain. Yes, it's that bad. Getting up the escalator was a process and getting my bike up with me took even more time. Bicorn was a champ carrying me through the first floor, though I noted that his run somehow took even more out of me than if I were biking. My skin was doing a horrible job of keeping my body stitched together when I finally reached the final escalators. Those aren't to be mentioned either. Just know that it was bad.
The kid was going to chastise me. I saw the look in her eye despite my vision turning blurry. Just when she was going to scream, a self-satisfied smirk broke through.
"Hah! Looks like you've learned your lesson, inmate." She leaned down, bobbing her baton. "That's the Reaper. He'll come for you if you stay on any floor too long. If you hear the chains, run away. Better yet, go out and make some friends. Along with that you should also start fusing Personas."
My response was a middle finger. Thankfully the non-human just gave a confused grunt as I walked up the stairs and returned to real life.
And then I got hit with a bowling ball to the face. Without noticing, the Metaverse the whole time had less gravity or something. When I returned, my kneecaps felt like how Mohri Mamoru must've felt upon reentry. Collapsing bones intersected with each other and created a biological car crash that left me shaking. The only thought I had was how bad they must've looked on an x-ray. It was the most pressing pain, but don't be deluded into thinking that it was the only pain. I would've gone back into the Metaverse to heal if it weren't for something that told me the tank was empty. In the same way that your body gave feelings to represent processes, like being thirsty or going pee, there was a pressure that implied I was pushing where there wasn't any juice. Gone! Nada! Apparently Persona powers worked off MP since I probably couldn't even muster up the summoning of Pixie.
Somehow my bike was in even worse shape than me. Even though no bullet was wedged into the cadaver, I could see where it had cleaved. A little hole barely bigger than my pinky was wedged straight through the center of the frame below the bike seat. From there the whole thing curved inwards, nearly creating around a 70 degree angle. Little mercies still were there. My seat was fine. The wheels were completely undamaged. The frame was long gone unless I met a blacksmith without equal with a specialty of reviving the dead. At least I could feel my toes. If I bent like my poor bike had then I'd become the Phantom Cripple.
Somehow worse—because this was just not my day—was landing where people could see me. Blinking into reality must've not happened since I was treated like a garbage can. Maybe the magic app made me segue in like I'd always been there? Regardless, little glances would peek on the corners of people's eyes before they gave a slightly wider berth. Those were the ones which felt better. At least those people weren't the ones who practically stepped over my legs. One guy had the audacity to scoff like the dying kid was just a roadblock. If I knew his name, then I would've gone and beat the shit out of his shadow.
You don't need to hear a play by play of how I got back home. It was humiliating. I wish that I didn't remember it. I wish that I didn't remember walking into Leblanc, forgetting to at least pretend that my bike wasn't totaled as I locked the scrap up in the same place that I would with a whole bike. Sojiro was already angry when he saw me.
"Hey, I got a call from the school. What the hell…"
He trailed off. Not sure if it was the scrapes that ran down my arms like vambraces or the obvious limp. With my day properly ruined, I couldn't even muster up a sarcastic response. I just checked my pockets for the flowers.
They disappeared. The flowers disappeared when you left Mementos. Meaning all of that was for nothing. I didn't properly have the energy to scream in frustration or put up some token effort as Sojiro started ushering me out of the door.
