It's the 2nd of July just after I woke up, so before 7. I woke up a little earlier than usual because I forgot to close the curtains and the sun shined straight into my eyes.

  The two of us were chewing on the curry that Sojiro had made for us. Sitting on the bed made the full day rush by me in a dizzying acceptance of the consequences of my own actions. Yes, I was just seething for a few hours because I wasn't getting absolutely any gratitude for beating up a bad guy and there was a second group of Phantom Thieves who were doing my thing which meant there were more people finangling with forces that I felt like weren't supposed to be finangled with. Also there was a hacktivist group, a term that I swore was made up before this, which made a public statement threatening that they'd do 'something' if I didn't reveal my identity. Also there was the guy who I punched in my room who didn't know I was the guy who punched him and it would be awkward if he ever figured that out so I resolved that to my dying breath he'd never figure that out. Also I was nearly assassinated. Bit earlier than everything else but it kind of felt important.

  "Excuse me. I've spent a night in your abode without asking your name."

  The last of the curry was shoveled into my mouth. Not too spicy, just how I liked it for breakfast. I have no idea how Sojiro clued into that when I never commented on the taste.

  "Kurusu Akira."

  "Marvelous." He tapped his fork against his plate. Each scoop barely had enough that a baby could bite into. Most likely an overcorrection after last night's feast. "Oh, I did not mean your name. I was wondering where you got that version of the Sayuri?"

  Pausing mid-bite, I looked at the painting. I hung it back up when Akechi left. Now that I was actually looking directly at it, there being a single splash of color in an otherwise ratty room made it stand out even more. Sojiro hadn't seen it yet either. Awkward.

  "Uh, it's a little personal, but I'm here because I'm serving out a sentence or whatever from something I did. None of the schools back home would take me. My parents sold all of my old stuff, but," I gestured towards the painting, "this was given to me for some reason along with a bunch of sculptures. I sold the sculptures but I like the way this looks so I kept it."

  It was the same painting that Madarame had been obsessing over in the palace. This was the treasure. This was the Sayuri. I'm pretty sure that it's the real one, which meant that there was a whole other layer to the story. The reason that I was guessing that this was the real one was because it didn't make sense why he'd have his own treasure as a fake painting, right? Or maybe it was an idealized version of the same one that was wildly famous? The original idea? Sometimes being a dumbass is horrible.

  Let me describe the differences as best as I'm able: it's a faux-traditional painting, with the woman drawn like we (we, the Japanese, y'know?) used to do it (relatively used to, as the people who last innovated with that style probably died a hundred, two hundred years ago or some odds) back in the day. There was the branch drawn like the ink brush drawings in a warm background. Inside her grip was a tiny baby which she stared down at with a complicated expression, complicated because I was feeling like it wasn't quite positive. Longing, maybe? I'm not an art critic. At first I thought that the painting was a forgery. Didn't make sense though. It would've made more sense that the one which surrounded his palace and skyrocketed his fame was the forgery while the treasure that started his whole distortion was the original. I'd never know the full story so my best guesstimate was that painting was how he learned to steal.

  I'm not an art critic. The guy who was inside of my room definitely was. Sweat rolled down the back of my neck as he approached the portrait.

  "This is beautiful…"

  He put his plate down so his fingers could roam across the canvas. They hovered just above the paint where the vaulting brushstrokes would lightly caress him.

  "What was Sayuri looking at? No, it makes too much sense. But here?"

  Whatever the rest of his thoughts were, they became mumbled lost beneath the self-infatuation that was so common with artists. I'm not interesting enough that I'd want to talk to myself.

  Eventually he left the fugue and stepped back. A hand was pressed against his chest as he lightly bowed.

  "I must thank you both for your hospitality and allowing me to see such a beautiful interpretation of Sayuri." He said both as if they had equal gravity. His face pinched, probably from the male urge to never say anything too private. "I was lost yesterday. I cannot say that I'm found quite yet but the help that you've provided for the first step cannot be understated."

  I wanted to ask him to repeat that in normal people speak before submitting with a nod. "You're welcome. Do you need to stay any longer?"

  "Perish the thought! It would not do for me to become a mooch. I'll find alternative arrangements today. Oh! The man who made this delicious concoction is downstairs, yes? I have to extend my thanks to him also."

  "Wait, can you—and he's gone."

  With a moment to myself, I had to think about the immediate plan. As much as I didn't want to, my activities had created a huge breadth of problems that I needed to solve. Now it was more an obligation or whatnot; if Medjed was speaking truthfully, then there was a guillotine hanging over the whole nation's neck. Now that I had multiple cases to compare it to, I could be sure that people with palaces were destructive to normal society. Did that make me obligated to continue seeking them out? I wasn't sure, only sure that I should at least destroy Okumura's.

  The second group of Phantom Thieves were also actively using the name that I made. Every fiber in my body wanted to beat them up and, more importantly, wanted to trust these people to deal with the palaces themselves. I was wary about extending trust to these people though. Let's not make myself out to be a saint: I literally was going into the Metaverse for money. Even the flimsy excuse that I had an obligation to clean humanity's psychic messes was still better rationale than not knowing the motives behind the people toying with powers beyond our comprehension, or at least that's how I saw it since I didn't have confirmation that the person who tried assassinating me wasn't part of this group. I would need to make sure that they're not doing something bad before fully distancing myself from the Phantom Thieving life.

  For those too slow, these fake Phantom Thieves could take up the obligation. I'll have gotten my money, they'll be working through the palaces that need to be cleared, the student on probation will have distanced himself from a criminal group, and Japan is all the better for it. If everything worked out, then these events happening one after another would be the greatest luck I had all year. If everything didn't work out then that was more work for me.

  My reasoning narrowed down towards the only things that I could actually do: I didn't want to unmask, I didn't know where the Faker Thieves were, I still needed money, and I had another palace that still scared me. Grinding and money ahoy! Flower picking was in my immediate future.

  I walked downstairs to see the two chatting normally. I'm not sure what I was supposed to take from the scene. Neither were the type to get into a fist fight but some giggling voice in the back of my head had been suggesting that Sojiro may say something weird about an art piece. That's not what happened at all.

  "This brew is magnificent. It rejuvenates the soul," Yusuke said. He slowly sipped from the cup again. It was the drinking equivalent of taking bird-sized bites out of your sandwich while chewing extremely slowly. From the blissful expression and pleased hum, you'd think that he was drinking elixir, or whatever they call the Greek drink—'nectar of the gods'. I only heard it from some horrible show a long time back.

  I was totally right about Sojiro getting exasperated though. The deep exhale left his head loosely hanging. "It's just coffee. You kids like coming up with fancy words. It's coffee."

  There were actually customers despite the early hour. Men going to work had that look about them around Tokyo, I've found. Back home there was a complacency, most likely from being only of your lifestyle. Does that make sense? Let me rephrase: you have what you got. There's no alternatives around that distract you from your own lot. It makes it easier to just accept things, even if there may be a curiosity of the world outside your own town. I had that and it's been thoroughly beaten out of me. The only way you'd convince me is if you were offering international. I didn't want to be in some dinky town like Inaba—I was convinced my dinky corner of the world was the best—and I didn't want to see another city like Tokyo. Please just take me to Paris!

  I just silently sat at the counter while listening to the two of them chatting. Apparently Yusuke wasn't too bad since the two managed to consistently keep up a conversation. Time passed, eventually the early morning rush fading into the conglomerate outside.

  "Are either of you going out to the fireworks festival?" Sojiro asked.

  Yusuke looked as if he were struck. The last drops of coffee ran down the rim as he tilted it a little too far. "I've completely forgotten that it was this month. Originally I wanted to go for more inspiration, but I believe that a break is called for. Perhaps I'll just find a place to read tonight. I've heard only positive things about Ohku Akiko and I've been putting it off."

  "Romance, huh? You didn't strike me as the type. I thought that you'd be more of those arthouse novels," Sojiro said.

  "I think they're dreadfully boring." With that blunt statement, he stood up and bowed again. "I'd like to thank you both again for your hospitality. The food was fantastic, Sakura-sensei. Truly a banquet of flavors."

  Sojiro sounded like he was choking. "Sensei!?"

  "You're welcome." It took me a bit to summon up the courage to say what I wanted to. "Hey. Come down every now and then. And if you need anything then just come calling. I'll sort you out."

  Yusuke was stunned, staring at me with wide eyes. He eventually regained himself with a smile. "Thank you, my friend. I'll find some way to repay you."

  I didn't think that it paid him back. Now piled onto the previous badness was also abusing the trust that he was extending towards me. Whatever good that I did for him probably wouldn't ever repay what I've done. That's what reinforced itself when his hunch became a little more noticeable past the door. No matter the evil that I've uprooted, that doesn't excuse all the harm that I've done.

  When Yusuke was snoring on my couch and late night traffic was smearing my walls with light came questions of what I've done and what I will do. I hadn't known my victims or the people I was going to affect. That was exactly the problem. One of the few tidbits from history that I've kept around was that dictators usually had courts that would happen without the accused being there, ended within an hour, and all the lawyers had drinks afterwards. That wasn't going to be me. Having a palace itself necessitated action but that didn't mean that I needed to be sloppy about it. I already said that I'd do it and failed. No more. The remaining time that I was going to be a Phantom Thief would be better. I wouldn't create more Yusuke's than necessary.

  "What about you?"

  I woke up from my reverie.

  "Hm?"

  "Are you going to the fireworks festival?"

  "No."

  It didn't make much sense. I liked fireworks, but half the joy was going with somebody else. There was nobody. I was alone.

  Sojiro grunted, wiping down the counter where Yusuke was drinking. "I think that I'm a little old to be going to one of those things. It's not good to squander your youth. You only get it once."

  "Hm."

  He looked at me beneath the rims of his glasses. "That wasn't the type of person that I'd expect you would spend time with. Hell, I would've never expected you would be that helpful to anyone. What's the catch?"

  From the outside looking in it looked weird. But I didn't need to lie.

  "He looked sad. I wasn't feeling great either. I thought that helping him might make me feel better."

  "Is that it?" He chuckled, one which came from deep within his chest. "Why don't you get going? I'm kicking you out. A kid like you needs sunshine, especially after you've spent a long time in bed. Go out and enjoy the thirty minutes or so before school.

  So I went to school. Bought a drink. Looked up stuff during the break times.

  Kamoshida was a horny guy who strutted his stuff around in a high school. Madarame was a con artist who felt his inspiration drying up and wanted to remain rich. Searching Okumura a bunch brought me the expected results: daughter who I felt I recognized, abusing employees somewhat, lynchpin of his company but not the kind of Hiroshi Yamauchi who remakes the whole shebang. No wife. Doesn't enjoy kicking puppies in his free time. A million rumors that make him sound worse or better depending on your perspective. I blew through the straw and enjoyed watching my soda bubble.

  I said hi to Kasumi in the hallway. I remembered that exams were soon and considered actually studying for once. I went to therapy and argued that if there was more supernatural stuff around the world then the government would definitely work to suppress it. Maruki mentioned that we had a due date when he'd leave. Surprisingly, that made me sad. I talked with some student from a school that I didn't recognize. He was mad at the world or something. I just let him vent, gave him a drink, then said goodbye. I went home and looked up more about Okumura. When that was done, I watered my plants. When that was done, I worked out. When that was done, I did thirty minutes of studying, then I started playing a game on my phone.

  I was lying in bed when I realized that I was still mad at the fakers for taking my name.

  "I'm a Phantom Thief," I whispered to myself, alone.

  The next day I felt pretty much back to normal besides the new scar. I decided to miraculously find my bike. During lunch I pulled up the request site. It became a habit. Since the Fake Thieves were completing requests, I liked to see how quickly they were being done. How they were being done was a genuine mystery to me. Plugging the names into my phone didn't bring anything up. Another set of palaces existing had freaked me out so badly that I was starting to obsess over it. Any names posted on the site were written down in my notepad. They were also written in a mix of romanization, ateji, and Google translated cyrillization in the middle of paragraphs about buying vegetables or people I've met at school. These were added to the long list of people I'd mindlessly plug into the Metanav at night. There was no guarantee that eventually a genuine palace owner wouldn't be posted.

  The website was getting enough traffic that people were posting everyday. I even saw a new one pop up. It was right beneath the one on top, which was already long enough that it nearly took up my entire phone's screen.

  "Uh, I can go on, but I think that you'd be a better narrator for this. It's not like my side of the story is too interesting. I'd also, uh, not do you justice. Mhm. That's what I think."

  "I really like hearing you tell the story though! I've been loving it! I've told you a lot about it. Just guess the things that you're not sure about!"

  "Guess what you were doing?"

  "Yes!"

  "...okay. This doesn't seem like a good idea though. Sorry, guys. I've only heard most of this second-hand, so it's mostly going to be a guessing game from my end. Blame her for this."

  So, where was I? Right, just saw the message. Hm. I'm not sure how to tell everything from here on out. How about this? I'll recite the message. Anyone is free to correct me if I'm wrong.

  "The song followed the second then the odd,

  each tab, the Colombian cents, falling into the jar and

  clinking against the pennies. Enough 4 a trip to Egret Bay.

  Bunny was the singer. Singing by 9. She of the azure-winged moon

  with her flowing blonde twintails looked underneath the Stone Gate of Qufu.

  She left without her heart but didn't fall apart.

  The adults disappeared as vacation began. Two Yggdrasil awoke. Then it died in Japan.

  Come underneath the elms and steal this 3! I dare you!

  I'm the monolith, the one clubbed, staring at you with each eye.

  Please send a text telling me you're ready. Once you're there. Please meet me there!"

  I think that was it. I can write it down because technically even the formatting was important. I don't get poetry. Poetry is stupid.

  I'm sure that the main thing that would go through a normal person's head is something along the lines of, 'this is a mess of words'. Then they'd say that it had no meaning and go along with their day. I'm willing to bet that most of the people who saw it thought that this was a stupid prank. Maybe some thought that this was a malicious hack from Medjed to flex their authority. No matter how many people posted, this was still the topmost comment on the site.

  The posts becoming more serious as the Phantom Thieves grew in popularity made me take the post a bit more seriously. The hacktivist thing was also a big contributor. It just seemed out of nowhere that the site would get a hacker at the exact same moment when Medjed was making their threat; then again, it would be the perfect time for another joker to play around since they just learned what the Phantom Thieves were in the first place. I bet that the person running the website was just a schmuck who learned how to make a website in class. Paper thin security for people who did computer junk as a hobby.

  I was now officially a Phantom Thief. If I was going to be abusing the other dimension for money, at this point I was going to be doing it right.

  I stared at it. I wrote it down to stare at it more when class resumed. Then I redid the puzzle solving process. Instead of staring at it waiting for something to jump out of me, I looked really closely at each sentence and wrote down clues that I could take from it. Assuming that each word was significant was the first step towards solving it.

  So the first line! Couldn't see anything in that. "Second following the odd" was complete nonsense to my ears. Not sure why they're mentioning Colombian people. 4 pennies was, uh, pennies, American, or something else American-esque. There was the number 4 in there. Finally there was something slightly esoteric, though I don't even know if it could be deigned as such because who didn't know about Usagi? Sailor Moon! Bunny! It was referring to Sailor Moon for some reason! I don't think there was anything referring to Sailor Moon as singing by nine but I could believe it with the stupid amount of material that series had. The only other reference that I could get was actually a few lines down with Yggdrrasill: it was totally a Yogurting reference. My gut was telling me even with that vague description. Don't know what Yogurting is? Nobody does! It's a game that absolutely nobody except one of the older boys in my school played. He showed me some of the gameplay. It looked really horrible. I stopped talking to that guy when he went up a grade but I'm sure that he found some way to still hate me. I guess that there was also a thing there that asked for their heart to be stolen, but that could be a joke or something.

  The only things that I could definitively say was that there were numbers there. They were definitely numbers.

  Yeah, I got absolutely nothing. I put it out of my mind as I was leaving because I was pretty sure that I didn't have the mental power to solve it. If the fake Phantom Thieves had any worth then they'd easily solve it on their own time.

  At the same time that I was leaving school, there was most likely a conversation going on. This is stupid, but let's call them nicknames because I didn't know of their existence at this time. Technically I did, but I didn't. We're keeping the narrative here! That's the point! This is the point in the show where the camera zooms upwards to shadowy figures who are making vague conversation. Let's call the one with fluffy hair, "Happy," the serious one, "Smarty," and the tiny one, "Catty". They're standing on the roof and talking.

  As usual, Smarty is leading the conversation. She's the type of person who is gracious when she's not speaking but doesn't handle nonsense when she is. Neither Catty nor Happy are the type to interrupt so they're a nice little triumvirate. It'd all fall apart if there were another aggressive personality.

  "I believe that I've learned the truth of this poem because I'm so smart," Smarty said.

  "Oh! That's Smarty! She's so smart!" Catty said.

  "That is not how I talk!"

  "Then you tell it! I'd rather somebody who was actually there tell it!"

  "But I like how you narrate."

  "I like it too."

  "Yeah, me too."

  "It's a bit too crass for me but I can at least follow along."

  "You're the one having an issue!"

  "At least try to imagine what the conversation was like! I don't want to sound like that!"

  "No. Either you tell it or I tell it my way."

  "Mrm."

  "Is that a yes or no?"

  "Mm."

  "I'm taking that as a yes but you still have reservations. But fine! I'll try to be a little more considerate. Even though I literally wasn't there."

  "People used to be able to write a second hand account—"

  "Shut it, Smarty. I'm narrating here."

  Since there were apparently issues with how I portrayed it, I'll rack my brain for the best approximation of how the conversation went.

  I'm not sure why they're talking about Phantom Thief stuff on the roof of the stupid school. Don't you remember all the different tactics I used so that my notepad wouldn't accidentally be read? I'd never discuss anything supernatural where I could easily be overheard.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Constructive criticism! That's what this is!

  "There's nothing else?" Smarty asked. It's the first line I remember of the conversation. There's a little context that we're missing here.

  "That's what it says," Happy said. Both had their phones out. They'd been scrolling down the entirety of the website to make sure that there weren't more clues spread out around the comments. Other than a few that were expressing confusion, more than one which complained about the preferential treatment, there was nothing that could be seen as a clue.

  "You're sure that this is real? How do we not know that this isn't a trick?" Catty asked.

  It made sense to those who knew Catty. He was one of those luddites who didn't know what gacha meant, didn't understand the hot cultural references to SAO and most likely would stick metal into the microwave. All this 'hacking' business was unfamiliar to him as was the dotcom.

  "Somebody put this up there…" Happy put a finger to her chin. "Unless it's the person running the site, I think that it's one of those people who are good at coding."

  None of these people were internet-savvy. See the difference? Yours truly had the lingo down too.

  "A person good at coding…"

  They also had a really bad habit of repeating each other when thinking. Yamabiko has challengers!

  "Isn't that how you described Medjed? Why couldn't it be them?" Catty asked.

  Happy didn't have a response. It was Smarty who took over. "Unlikely. Medjed has made themselves out to be completely antagonistic towards us. If they took the effort to mess with the Phansite, then it wouldn't be hidden like this. At least, I hope so."

  "You hope so?"

  "It's not as if I know how these coders work." Smarty scoffed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Not even my sister knows much about how these groups work. I just assume that if they want to sabotage us, it'd be by directly interfering with the Phansite. This looks like something else."

  "Something else?" Catty asked.

  Happy nodded. "I think I get it. This person is desperate towards getting their request fulfilled. That's why they made sure that it's always at the top."

  "And it's in this bizarre code for a reason. Maybe this target is well known?" Smarty asked.

  "Or maybe it's trying to waste our time," Catty said doubtfully.

  "I think that Smarty-chan feels like she's being challenged!" Happy teased.

  Smarty chuckled at that. "That's definitely part of it."

  "Geeze. Fine, then let's try to figure this out, if only so we can move on."

  Now, from what I'm told it was an entire hour of back and forth conversation that they had. I'm not going to repeat all of that! Let's rather cut through the fat and pretend that this conversation was much more streamlined. I know the difficulty in summing up something like this so, I'm going to be honest, this is only a parodied version of this conversation. The actual thing had a lot of back and forth as they bounced around totally worthless leads.

  "Doesn't something about these numbers strike you as odd?" Happy asked.

  "That they're the only ones in the poem?" Smarty thought about it, putting a finger to her chin. "I think that everybody would point that out. There's the '4' and '9'. If you count the heart then there's also a '3'. I don't think that anything about this strikes me as odd other than the formatting. There's other numbers yet they're written out."

  "Yes, but there's specifically three. At the end of the poem it asks us to come find them."

  Smarty had to think about it before her eyes widened. "Ah! That's an obvious reading of it!"

  "Did you make a breakthrough?" Catty asked skeptically. He was laying on the bed of soil since it was more comfortable than the chairs that were scattered around. Both of the girls were sitting shoulder to shoulder, reading off the same phone while he let them work their magic.

  "4-9-3. That definitely could be an address," Smarty said. "If we believe that though, then there's another reading: 9-3-4."

  "Oh! That's where they are in each stanza, right? So they could be trying to trick us by having two different readings. Which one do you think is more likely?"

  Smarty was thinking to herself for a long time. "With how hard they're trying to make this, I believe that the second reading is correct."

  "That's assuming that this is even an address," Catty said doubtfully. Despite being the most skeptical of the group he was also providing literally nothing to the conversation. I'm just pointing things out.

  "Let's assume this is an address. We'd still need a more specific area. Let's take down the strange words and see if there isn't a correlation." Smarty's finger trailed down the poem. "Colombian, Egret Bay, Bunny, azure-winged moon, blonde twintails, Stone Gate of Qufu, Yggdrasil, Japan, elms, monolith, clubbed, eye. Anything? I realize this is just a collection of words but…"

  Happy had caught on, eventually. Summarized conversation, remember? "Oh! I actually did a project about this! Every ward has its own flag, seal, and official plants. I definitely remember that one of them had an egret and elm as its official bird and tree."

  Looking it up on their phones concluded something in Smarty's eyes.

  "Egret flower, azure-winged magpies, and Japanese elms," she repeated smugly. "Yongen-Jaya. 9-3-4 or 4-9-3."

  "That wasn't hard," Happy said, which she may have said during the actual conversation.

  "Which is why we need to hurry," Catty reminded them. "If other people can see it then there's no reason that others haven't figured out the riddle."

  "He's right. People could be posting about it online. Soon enough anybody interested could be going there. If anybody posts this off the site, then there's also going to be more exposure. We need to make sure that we're the first ones to solve this."

  Catty's eyes widened. "If there's a reason that they're trying so hard to hide the name, then there's no telling when our opportunity will get cut off!"

  Taking our attention off those people, let's get back to the parts that I can actually narrate. I was walking back home after having a snack around this time. I didn't have work. Past the final turn that I had to bike down was an unpleasant surprise. It wasn't a surprise that initially hit me. It was like during a surprise party your friends hid in the cupboards then all popped out when you started cooking and you got a heart attack and died. Coincidentally I was thinking about his words as my bike leaned against the wall. A bike lock was a good idea but I didn't want to spend money on it. Palaces becoming more in-depth made it enter the realm of possibility where I'd break even because of all the supplies that were needed when infiltrating. I needed to plan ahead with that. All the money earned would only be wantonly spent once finishing the job.

  I definitely passed by him. It was only when he spoke that I recognized him.

  "You've found your bike? What a coincidence! If you were looking for it since it was stolen, then you'd have found it just after I talked to you."

  Akechi had come back with the same exact getup. If there were a picture next to him then I'm pretty sure I'd find that his hair was way too orderly to be human. It being a wig was seriously considered, with me not speaking back until I stared directly at the stoic locks for some time.

  "It's the detective. What brings you back here?"

  "I'm…" he hummed, putting fingers on his chin, "perusing I believe would be the best word. The coffee was great and I'm willing to try some more. Would you care to join me? I didn't want to give the impression that I'm all business, so we can find some lighter topics."

  Ugh. That was definitely an offer. If my go-to insult of calling people prep schoolers wasn't obvious, I didn't really like people who took school super seriously. At all. They were intolerable, in fact. Call it insecurity if you want. School's important and all that—I wouldn't do any c-wording if it wasn't—but altering the way that I saw other people just because of a letter felt kind of dystopian. These people were the same types who started overlooking me like I was some kind of potted plant when the news hit back home.

  It's totally the vibe that I got from that guy. But I had to study, I had to work out, I had to be anywhere other than him, I had to bike, I had to work, I had to water my plants. A hundred excuses and not a single one got me away from his friendly gaze.

  "Sure," I said, grieving for my lost time.

  "Marvelous."

  Who even says marvelous?

  Sojiro was giving me a look when I sat down. It wasn't explicitly negative, I'm pretty sure. It was more like when you moved a couch when you were really tired. When you wake up your living room is completely different. It takes you some time to realize that the couch moved. The first question that comes to mind is, "why is that there?" That's the look that he was giving me. Like I was in the wrong place. Akechi basically strong-armed me into getting a coffee because I didn't want to look uncool in front of the guy who had a public nickname.

  Each sip burned my tongue in more ways than one.

  Akechi let his cup rest on the tiny platter. "Excellent as always, Sakura-san."

  The man didn't answer. He was reading the newspaper. Solidarity in being suspicious of buddy-buddy cops.

  "Now, I want to put forward a question that's been bothering me for quite some time. I know that I said how we would discuss lighter topics, but I'm one who loves a good riddle. Would that be fine with you?" Akechi asked.

  His faux-politeness tasted more bitter than anything Sojiro could spit out. I masked my grimace by taking a long sip of my drink. "You want my opinion?"

  "You stood out as an interesting viewpoint to problems where I'd usually get a uniform opinion on. I'd like to see if that holds."

  "Uh, you're talking about me?" I looked around the restaurant to doubly make sure that I wasn't going to scare off customers and said, "dude, I'm the most milquetoast dude ever. I play games. I work at a flower shop. Like, come on. The most interesting thing that's ever happened to me is getting sentenced in a court and I don't think that's really a great mark on my character."

  He chuckled. "Is that not a unique perspective? You must understand that for all the work that I do in catching criminals, there's precious little time in understanding them."

  It was laying it on a little thick. If anything I was even less convinced than when he kept his mouth shut. Again, I didn't have a great excuse to leave. I told him to go ahead.

  "Aha. I'd thank you for indulging my curiosity, though I'll hold that opinion until I get an answer as to what justice is."

  "Justice?" He nodded, which made me grimace. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure that nobody knows."

  "Nobody? Can you explain your thought process?"

  It was only after he asked that when I considered if this was a good thing to admit to a person working under the precepts of the law. In for a penny, in for a pound. It was almost like a roleplay, where I was verbally abusing the entire law system personified in this stupid kid.

  "Look, dude. I'm not going to say whether or not I deserved getting sentenced in the first place. But all of this?" I raised my arms, supposed to be gesturing to the city. "It's bullshit."

  "Language," he said.

  Given a second opportunity to hear it, he sounded amused. The edge to actually chastise me wasn't there at all. I played along. Sort of. Just because he was joking didn't mean I still wasn't annoyed by it.

  "I don't give a fuck about my language. You want my opinion, this is it, shitty language and all. They said that it was 'just' probation and that I was lucky for getting off as easily as I did. The hell did they mean by that? Nobody back home talks to me anymore. My friends made excuses or directly told me how they didn't want to see me anymore. My parents haven't sent me a single fucking message since I've come here." That even got Sojiro to look up. My voice was rising, forcing me to take a deep breath before calming back down. "So here I am. I'm in a school that hates me with no friends. Is that 'light'? Am I even going to get a good job or get into a good university when I'm done with school when I have a violent crime on my record? No, because everybody wants to be the good guy."

  Akechi didn't even need a second to recover. He gladly said, "from the way that you say it, being the good guy is a bad thing. Wouldn't that be a form of justice? Some would say that it's the highest form of justice, as a good person necessarily doesn't break the law."

  "The hell do they know? And I didn't say that they were good people, just that they want to be a good guy. They want to make life as shitty as possible for me because I'm the bad guy."

  That seemed to finally stump him. For a few seconds he held a fist under his chin, sipping his coffee, trying to stall as he thought of a response.

  "It sounds as if you're merely angry for this situation since you're the one who's bad. That seems unfair. Being a good person means that they're willing to do what's needed to preserve what is good rather than let bad people walk over them. That's the job of the police. They're the good people who come in to save other good people."

  I rolled my eyes at that. "Please! What are you even saying? Of course I didn't think about justice back when I was just another face in the crowd. Nobody does except weirdos! We don't walk around thinking about stupid deep questions that are used as ice breakers when a conversation is dying. I walked around thinking about how stupid hot Lightning is. The only people who think about a problem are those who are affected by it and those who are causing it, and sometimes not even that."

  "That's a rather cynical reading of justice," Akechi said.

  That was enough for me to cool down. It was because nobody ever asked me before. Not a single person asked how I was feeling and actually meant it. Not in the superficial way. Asked me what my opinion was on my probation: a load of shit, that's what it was. But I couldn't say that to the cops or else they'd smack me or something. Couldn't say that to my parents or they'd be more worried. Saying it online to my friends—they're great, but most of our conversations are half tongue in cheek anyways. Saying it to Sojiro or anyone is Tokyo was asking to get my probation officer to do some he-said she-said bullshit.

  Of course, I chose a copper to vent to first because I'm an idiot.

  "Probably," I admitted with a grumble. "I ranted there. The point I was trying to make is that I don't know what justice is, but I know what good is. Good is doing something good. You see? You're doing, doing! Nobody who gives me a dirty look or spreads rumors that I carry knives in my bags is doing good by dragging down a bad person. If they were doing this with another person who's good, then nobody would be saying that it's justifiable. Why is it like that with me?"

  Chuckles started growing next to me, making me slightly glare at him. It was growing into a full-belly laugh. Each one made him slightly lose control until he reasserted himself with a satisfied sigh.

  "My apologies. I'm not laughing at you, though maybe I am. Don't you see how that could be a unique perspective?" Akechi chuckled some more, cutting them off with another sip.

  It still didn't feel good being laughed at when I was venting, but I conceded by taking another disgusting drink. "Whatever, man."

  "It also gives me quite a bit to think about. Naturally I'd counter that you're saying we shouldn't have methods of enforcement—inane! Of course the evil need to be punished. What then would you say to that? Are you fine with murderers walking the street? Are you saying that justice is—"

  Whatever he was going to say was interrupted when the front door opened. He'd been staring in my direction the whole time so it was easy for him to lock eyes with new customers. The fun thing about Leblanc was how few people it had. Really, if I were designing a criminal scheme in some semi-public place, I'd rather use a back alley coffee shop like Leblanc. You could be whispering and people would just assume that you're trying to preserve the atmosphere.

  It was Akechi's lapse in focus that made me finally turn around.

  "You!"

  "You!"

  Two totally different 'you's', both directed at me. Unfortunately, my person-blindness was kicking in at the absolute worst time. Their bodies were definitely somewhat familiar and I tried using them as leaping points to piece together the puzzle. One wore a frumpy sweater that looked really unflattering. Yes, I am one of those who thinks that women need to show their curves for their fashion to work. The baggy shirts and boxy shoulders thing just doesn't work. Women have curves and men don't so use them! It's what makes a good character design too! I don't care that I'm being a little bit of that type saying this!

  "You really think that?"

  "Back then! Only back then! I don't think that anymore! I meant I 'didn't' care! Just slipped out! And, hey! I'm saying all this objectionable shit and this is what finally gets someone on my case!?"

  "I just assumed that you were joking for most of it. This sounded targeted. Would you like to list out which of those opinions you still believe?"

  "...no. Most of them were jokes, for the record."

  Uh, anyways, where was I?

  Right, Leblanc. Girl in front of me. She also had strangely styled hair. It flowed like a waterfall crashing into clouds of foam at the bottom. That was my biggest hint as it felt like an alarm was ringing when I saw that. Whether that alarm was good or not didn't really click yet.

  The other person also rang alarm bells. It slowly dawned on me as each particular part was memorable. The hair, clothes, and red eyes each individually made the alarm raise until it was blaring through my head.

  Which still left the mystery of the other person. I didn't recall meeting any of the school president's friends at any point, but I was a pretty infamous person on campus. The most infamous? I'm not sure if I've ever overtaken Kamoshida's unpopularity. It could've been another member of the student council. She could've been permanently scarred from me approaching her threateningly when I was just trying to get a sip from a water fountain.

  I could feel any of the remaining joy in my body vacate as the worst person in the world came in. I think I'd rather that Akechi would've arrested me right then or Madarame made his grand reintroduction into society through the front door.

  "You," I said in dread.

  At least the anger that exploded into a wildfire had long ago burned out. I didn't really hate her as much as I wished that we were on opposite sides of the world. I'm pragmatic. I generally didn't waste energy with hate. I just knew that them hating me would be a bother and thus self-segregated so I didn't waste time around that person.

  "You know him, Mako-chan?"

  "Mako-chan?" I repeated. It was too sweet. She was burning a hole through my teeth saying things like that.

  It wasn't like I was alone in that assessment. Akechi stopped mid-sip. Sojiro peeked over his newspaper. 'Mako-chan' blushed a little, waving her hand like she was trying to swat her friend (though I didn't discount that they may have been something else if you catch my drift).

  "How do you know him?" Mako-chan deflected, looking away.

  The girl held her stare. "He works at the plant shop. He's given me great advice for tending to my garden."

  "For your…"

  Mako-chan was staring at me in disbelief. She had trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. At least the incredulity was better than starting a screaming match in front of Sojiro. Has anybody forgotten that he's the one providing me housing? Thinking back I'm surprised that he hadn't booted me onto the street.

  On the bright side, I now recognized the girl. Fluffy sheep hair. Baa. That's the one. I didn't really bother trying to memorize her again. Not only was that obviously staring, but I've lived with this weird condition my entire life. At some point you just accept that it's normal how you're going to need people to reintroduce themselves.

  "Am I free to presume that we're all acquainted with each other?"

  The girls finally took in the person who I was talking to.

  "Akechi-san! What are you doing here?" Makoto asked.

  "The Detective Prince?" the girl asked quietly.

  "I'm chatting with an acquaintance, same as I'm sure you two intended to do."

  "With him?"

  The guy took it good naturedly, which improved my opinion of him. "We've conversed and I found him interesting enough that I wanted to know more about him. Why don't you sit down? We're having a titillating conversation about the nature of justice."

  "Or we could change the subject to literally anything else," I grumbled. "Look, dude. I think that justice is kind of a bleak thing to be talking about. Despite how I look, I don't want to walk around like a sad sack all day. And what kind of invitation is that? What kind of chick is going to want to come and talk about depressing shit like that?"

  "Chick?" Makoto yelled, rising until her back was completely straight.

  His eyes crinkled. "You really don't hold anything back, do you? Interesting. Very interesting."

  Realizing that he was going to continue being a spaz, I lazily turned to the two girls. "Ignore him. You should order a coffee and go to the opposite side of the room so you're not sucked into whatever this is."

  I'm pretty sure that Mako-chan was going to follow through with that request if her friend didn't intervene.

  "Sure!"

  The girl taking the opportunity to sit at the opposite side of Akechi made her friend look in betrayal for a moment, before speed walking over with her head faced down. The whole thing was terribly awkward and I'm pretty sure that only half of the table could feel it.

  "I only know you from your personality on TV, sorry," the girl apologized.

  Akechi did one of those chuckles that was meant to make him seem more open. Nothing in that situation was funny. Well, I guess looking back it's kind of funny, but I sure didn't see Sojiro laughing.

  "We're not meant to know everyone in the world, though I too recognize you from your dad." Akechi bowed his head. "Akechi Goro."

  "Okumura Haru."

  I remember the exact thought I had when she said Okumura:

  'Shit.'

  "I'll take a Colombian, black," Mako-chan said. Yes, I'm going to be calling her that for quite a while, if that weren't already clear. It's too funny not to drive the point in.

  Haru was looking down the menu in obvious disinterest, barely giving anything more than a glance. A girl after my own heart. Eventually she just sighed and gestured to her friend.

  "And another Colombian for my friend. Cream and sugar, please," Mako-chan said.

  As Sojiro turned away from the others, he didn't actually withdraw like usual.

  "I think that this is the most students that I've had here in years. Is there any occasion?" Sojiro turned around with a wry smile. I noticed that it was a favorite of his to refer to everything in a dry tone. "You're not here trying to steal my secrets, are you, Okumura girl?"

  Haru waved her hands wildly in front of her. "N-No! That wasn't my intention at all! I j-just wanted to, uh—"

  "We just wanted a quiet place where we could talk for a while. I picked this place since my sister had talked about it before," Makoto said.

  "Your sister…" Sojiro seemed to wise up quickly. He mumbled something to himself with a bit of a chuckle.

  "How am I supposed to take it that even the founder's heir doesn't go to her own coffee shops?" Akechi joked.

  "They're not mine yet. And I don't like coffee." She blinked, head snapping over to Sojiro. "Oh! I didn't mean to insult you!"

  That even made me hold a hand over my mouth, obviously not working since Sojiro's smile grew wider when he saw me. Notice how he gets all smiley when there's a different category of person than old fart or stinky boy or brooding idiot. "I'm not going to get insulted by you not liking coffee. Now, if you liked coffee and then didn't like mine, that's when we're going to have issues."

  "If you don't like coffee, then why did you two decide to chat at a coffee shop?" Akechi asked.

  I snorted dismissively. "Come on. She's student president. That's like a sheep standing in front of a bulldozer."

  "It's not like that at all," Mako-chan said, dismissing it without sounding mad. I noted with approval that the stick up her butt seemed to have dislodged a little. "Coffee is more affordable than eating out. I do hate to see waste. She didn't object to it either. I didn't know that you didn't like coffee."

  "When would that come up?" Haru said sardonically. Her friend shook her head with a grin.

  It seemed like Akechi noted the interaction. He was staring out of the corner of his eye. Detective senses, I suppose. Was I then a detective for noticing that he noticed something?

  "You two seem close. How long have you known each other?" Akechi asked.

  The both of them shared a glance. Not sure what that was supposed to mean, or at least I didn't at the time. I'm sure that they thought it was subtle but Akechi and I shared our own glance when they did it. There's not a great way to hide that kind of thing when you have to turn your head around to look at a person.

  "We actually have only known each other this year. We've known about each other, but it's only when…" Makoto trailed off.

  "It was one of the others on the student council who introduced us," Haru said.

  Makoto snapped her fingers. "Yes! That's what it was. We've been talking regularly ever since."

  "Hm. What a beautiful thing friendship is. It's grander than justice. Wouldn't you agree, Kurusu-san?"

  It was impossible to keep a straight face when he came at me like that. It was bold, so aggressive that I couldn't take it seriously. My hand clamped over my nose as an ungainly snort ripped out.

  Nobody really knew me there so they couldn't understand how out-of-character that was for me. Other than the memes that I'm browsing during the lazy times that I'm not mentioning, I don't get very many opportunities for humor. It's been a desert of seriousness because of the you-know-what, stupid magic transporting me to another world where my life was constantly in danger, to real life where I was just ranting to Akechi about stupid shit! Before this I wasn't the type to laugh out loud like my friends online either. Anybody saying a real joke slammed against me like a starving man given a scrap of bread. Don't take my slightly light narration as meaning that I was laughing to myself after everything. This is the equivalent of when you shower after an argument and think of a million comebacks that would've had the other person crying.

  Of course Mako-chan found some way to get offended. That tone I was expecting from her, with its whiny, nasally pinched quality, came out in a long, "what's so funny?"

  "Everything, really. I'm pretty sure that everything has an opportunity to be made a joke of. Everything is probably funny because of something so you just have to look at it in a different way." I shrugged, gesturing to everything. "Isn't this situation pretty funny? It's like a nun and a soldier walking into a bar. This started because of a stupid philosophy conversation too. There's a bunch of other stuff that I'm probably missing."

  Mako-chan's eyebrow rose. It was the least positive reaction. Once again, for some reason, Sojiro was looking at me weirdly. It's not like I was being any different here! It's just that I'm quiet!

  "And you said that you didn't have a unique perspective?" Akechi asked.

  "What?" I asked sourly. "People don't walk around wanting to be miserable all the time. Well, some people do. Most don't. Argh! Stop with the stupid overanalyzing my words! Why don't you ask those two? They probably have those unique opinions that you're salivating over!"

  Akechi rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Well, it could've been good-natured or not good-natured. That plastic smile belied nothing. But he listened. We talked. Then we talked about other stuff since the group started getting annoyed at him too. For an hour I felt like I was normal.

  The bill was waved in front of Akechi's face. It held there still like he couldn't believe what was on it. It was one of the only times that he had a completely blank expression—unknown for another reason. Whatever went behind his eyes was unknown. The girls continued talking about something, I'm not sure.

  The smirk that came back didn't seem innocent.

  "What a peculiar pricing."

  Sojiro rubbed the back of his head. It was his habit. Even talking with him for an hour would get you used to it. "I used to have fun with my prices. Not anymore. Anything that is newer on the menu has a little more traditional pricing."

  Haru picked up the bill and squeaked. "Oh! 403!"

  Akechi got up and adjusted his tie, leaving the money on the table. "Look at the time. I didn't even realize how much I've spent here. Sorry for being abrupt, but I have to go."

  "I'd imagine that you're busy all the time being a detective along with the usual school work. How do you do it? I barely feel like I'm keeping up with my student council work at times," Mako-chan asked.

  "A mix of perseverance and imagination. As long as I imagine it as possible then it's harder to get disheartened. Along with that is the ability to keep myself moving. I wouldn't recommend it for most people."

  There were a few more parting words before he left. It doesn't matter what was said. Outside, I imagined that he was still staring at the bill. Just behind him was the door where I was still talking with the girls—and that conversation didn't matter because we just talked about the upcoming finals before they left. The gentle breeze made the plastic-y paper flutter gently, making that distinctive sound when it crinkles. Warm light battered his back. He leaned against the wall.

  The corners of his lips crept wider. The tone of his voice sank from the affable lightness into a moody dredge. Each chuckle was lower and lower, The moon was visible even through the sunlight's last inches. Long shadows ran parallel alongside the street. From the gutters of stolid water he stepped. The receipt was tucked into his jacket as he made sure that each piece of his appearance was spick and span. Collar spruced up, cuffs tucked, he basked in the success by standing underneath the brightest of the street lights to admire the coffee house for a second.

  "What a joke."

  Just before he could leave, soft thumps caught his attention. There was a cat standing on top of a red post box, staring straight towards him. Akechi waited. It was impossible to know exactly what he was thinking of. Maybe he had entered that moment when the predator spots its prey, each side waiting for the first twitch of muscle. Maybe it was appreciating the flush of victory through looking at a cute cat. I understand that feeling. When nobody is looking (and I mean that I look around to make sure that nobody is looking), I always say in a really high-pitched voice, "nyan neko~."

  Akechi stared at it for way longer than the cat was willing to endure. It leapt down, running off for another back street. He—

  "Foreshadow me too!"

  "Son of a—fine! But no more interruptions! We still have a lot to go through still! Got it? No more interruptions. No, don't do that cutesy salute! It's not earning you any favors!"

  —wasn't important so stop thinking about Akechi! Let's go back inside where Sojiro's phone started ringing. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say that he was enjoying the presence of high schoolers chewing the fat like we were about ten years older; and I'd like to take a moment to mention that it wasn't as if you had to replace our little scene with alcohol as if that made it anymore mature, as I'd argue that alcohol actually would make it less mature. Teenagers already had to wrestle with hormones. Thinking about adults wanting to get the same result of not being entirely in control of your actions was childish to the extreme. I've mentioned how a large part of Sojiro's clientele were old people. Take that lesson. The young-minded drink. The old and wise drink, coffee.

  Anyways, Sojiro left us for the backroom. Have I never described it? It's barely recessed into the wall, barely large enough for all the machines necessary to run a restaurant. A persistent spice lingered around the room that trickled against the nose hairs in an unpleasant way since everything Leblanc offered was made there. Coffee, way too strong coffee, curry, and way too strong curry all linger inside the walls years after they've been made like asbestos.

  The phone came out and pressed against his head. There was the same courteous back and forth, much warmer than I've ever heard Sojiro talk. No, I don't remember the specifics. This is all made up. I was actually talking to the girls, and that conversation wasn't important.

  Sojiro glanced behind him. "Hm? Well, now that you mention it there were a lot of strange customers today. Yeah. Strange how? A lot of students came in! They actually dragged my part-timer with them to talk. I've never seen that before. Yes, he did. Only four. Yes, there were only four students."

  With a laugh, taking it lightly, he asked, "why are you even interested in what customers came in?"