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It was the tenth of January, and it was a perfectly clear night outside. In Leblanc’s attic, you, your brother, and your ‘it’s complicated’ were having a discussion over plates of leftover curry. Morgana and Akira shared a plate -- that was to say, Morgana was going to town on it, while Akira spoke with you. Swallowing a potato, you say, “So, her sister shoved her out of the way of the car?”
Akira nodded, “Yeah, that’s what the video showed. It was weirdly cinematic, actually.”
Morgana kicked him with his hind leg, licking his chops and then saying, “Akira! Don’t joke about that!”
“ You didn’t see the video,” He replied, nudging a piece of chicken towards the cat with his chopsticks.
You nod and move your plate from your lap to the table. Getting up from the couch, you walk over to the pair, who blink up at you. “Wassup?” Akira asks. You jab him in the stomach.
He doubles over, sending his poor curry tumbling to the floor, with Morgana in pursuit. “What did you do that for?”
“She just got mindfucked and you left her alone?! ” You yell, whirling around to make for the stairs, “You’re such an idiot boy! Dumbass!”
Ignoring Morgana’s mournful crying, he says, “I’m sorry?”
“You should be!” Entering the kitchen, you open the fridge and begin to rifle through it, adding, “Also, gimme her address!”
Clutching a Tupperware container to your chest, you paced outside the Yoshizawa household. When you’d been wrapped up in your anger, it had seemed perfectly reasonable to shoo Akira away; he had been there when Yoshizawa had broken, and it was entirely possible that seeing him would just make her feel worse. A note from him was sitting crumpled in your pocket, because despite what you seem to think, Joker, a text message isn’t what someone needs during an identity crisis!
“Jackass,” You growl, kicking the ground.
“I’m sorry?”
You yelp, whirling around. Standing in the doorway is an imposing man -- then again, they’re all imposing -- with a confused look on his face.
You stammer, “Um, I’m sorry! Is this the Yoshizawas?!”
“...Yes?”
“Ah, I’m a friend of Yoshiza-- I mean, Kasu, I mean, Sumire!” You babble, and remembering the Tupperware, hold it out in front of you, “I bring cuwwy! And comedic relief!”
“Cuwwy, huh? Can’t turn that down,” He smiled, and then beckoned you inside, saying, “C’mon, come in, Miss…?”
“Oh! Futaba. Futaba Sakura.” You step inside the cozy home, leaving your shoes at the door and following him to their kitchen. The walls were decorated with family photos; you glanced at one of the twins when they were toddlers, the two of them covered in mud and grinning from ear to ear. Your heart aches, but you move on. The kitchen is warm, all white marble and pinewood. You put the container on the counter, and clasp your hands behind your back.
“Can I get you anything?” He asks, and you shake your head. He follows up with, “I appreciate you coming over tonight. She locked herself in her room and has refused to talk to me -- I hope you have better luck.”
You nod, “I hope so, too. Um, can you…?”
He jolts and laughs, “I suppose I should show you the way, huh,” and guides you there. Her door is painted white, and a picture of Strawberry Shortcake is stuck to it. Wow, that’s so cute it’s illegal. Her dad leaves to do presumably fatherly things; summoning your courage, you knock on the door.
Something shuffles behind the door, and you say, “H-hi, Sumire. I’m Futaba! Um, Navi! Or Oracle, depending! I brought some Leblanc curry, it’s in the kitchen. I wanted to check on you.”
“...Thank you,” A strained voice echoes from behind the door. It sounds like she’s been crying. “You’re Akira-senpai’s sister, right?”
“Yup. By choice, though. He lacks my sexy genes,” You gesture with false bravado, and then immediately remember that she can’t see you. Emotive animations aren’t effective if the player can’t see them! “If you’re wondering why he isn’t here, I’ve got a note from him. He’s a dumbass who assumes everyone will be just like him and turn out perfectly fine -- it’s his unsexy genes at work. As his super cool little sister, I’m here to fix his mistakes.”
She giggles, and your heart skips. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Just slip it under the door, please.”
You put it under the door, and it slides under within the second; it reminds you of your consoles eating discs, and you suppress an epic gamer joke.
“So, um, I kiiinda have ulterior motives for being here,” You play with your hair, “It’s just that -- Akira told me your story, and I wanted to tell you that I get it.”
“...How could you?” Her voice is accusatory, and you find yourself shrinking back despite the wooden barrier, “You’re not a twin. You don’t have siblings you were raised with, or any you’ve lost. How could you possibly understand?!”
There’s the girl who tried to kill Joker and Crow. “You’re right. I don’t understand, not completely. But, well -- I get it. I lost my mum in an accident like that, too.”
Sumire goes silent, and you power through the gag in your throat, “My mum was a scientist, and she got involved in some shady shit for her research. So this big-shot motherfucker decides to assassinate her using the Metaverse -- the story’s complicated, but basically she jumped in front of a car in front of me, a couple years back.”
“I’m so sorry,” She says. You really wish you could see her face. “I… that was insensitive of me, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you dealt with that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t deal with it,” You clarified, “I bottled it all up and ignored my feelings. Not like… completely pretending it was fine, ‘cause I was -- and still am -- pretty mentally ill, but I didn’t let myself feel it. I didn’t let myself miss her, not really.”
“When did you? Why?” Her voice is quivering, and you try your best to not let yours, too.
“The Phantom Thieves changed my heart, and I let myself feel. And I got sad, yeah, but mostly I got angry.” You suck air in through your teeth, fumbling for words, “It’s like. She was taken away from me, and I never got to deal with it. There wasn’t any reason for her to die. No big divine scheme, no heroes to motivate. She just -- she just fucking died, and it sucked, and it was all because of some sick fuck’s greed.”
“I… get it, I think,” She mumbles, and you hear shuffling, “I was angry for a bit. When I thought… it’s easier for her to be angry. But I’m just sad. Pathetic and sad.”
“And that’s how you feel, and that’s okay!” You snap, “Nobody can change how you feel, Sumire! Life is like a pokeathlon -- there are different categories that everyone is meant for, and if you force yourself to do something you’re not meant for, you suck! I’m losing my metaphor, but -- there’s nobody you have to be. There’s no way you need to feel. It’s just important that you’re you, and that you let yourself feel. And, um, I’d really like to get to know you.”
There’s a beat, and then she bursts out laughing. “P-p-pokeathlon? Oh, oh, ohhh my god, that barely makes sense, pfff. It’s ‘life is like a roller coaster’!”
“Yeah, but that’s not a funny video game reference,” You point out, smiling. Her laugh is jittery and ugly; it’s beautiful, and your heart feels fuller for having heard it so earnestly. “Does that help?”
The giggling dies down; she speaks calmly, saying, “Yeah, it does. Thank you, Futaba.”
“Awright!” You pump your fists, “You want me to stay longer? Come inside? Bounce?”
“I… I’m not ready to let anyone in yet,” Her voice is muffled, like she’s pressed her face into a pillow. “But I appreciate what you did today. I think I’ve just gotta, well, think.”
You nod, “Alright, I’ll make like a tree. I’m gonna steal your number offa Akira and drop you a text, okay? I’m happy to talk anytime. We’re all kinda fucked up, but we’re in this together.”
“Thank you so much.” Neither of you draws attention to the sob that follows; you leave feeling better, and you hope she does, too.
The Safe Rooms of Maruki’s Palace are unnerving, all mis-matched equipment piled into facsimiles of storage rooms. Despite this, they still feel better than the rest of the place; the paint is peeling, there’s dust swirling through the air, and you can hear the wind whispering through the vents. It’s here that you find yourself, packed into the space with your pseudo-family; Joker has called a meeting, and the Phantom Thieves heed his call, huddling around the table. Sandwiched between Haru and Ann, you ignore the ceremonial battle occurring over potato chips and find yourself looking at the newest member.
Sumire was sitting away from the group, sipping a carton of apple juice and flexing her fingers. Joker doesn’t seem in any hurry to force her to sit with everyone -- he’s rather preoccupied with helping Ryuji hold Akechi down so Makoto can shove vitamins down his throat.
“I can see your fucking veins!” Makoto snapped, rattling the glass bottle. You ignore them; the bastard is on his own. You nudge Ann, and gesture in Sumire’s direction; she nods and gives you a thumbs up. Grabbing a piece of melon bread, you extract yourself from the lesbian sandwich and make your way over.
She’s hunched over, sucking on a nearly empty juice box and staring at her hand. You tap the bread against her head, and she jumps, “Eh?!”
“Surprise, here’s some bread,” You hold it out to her, “Also, pretty sure you finished that a while ago.”
She reaches up and takes it; there’s a lost look on her face, and she blinks slowly down at the juice. “Huh. I guess I did.”
“You trying to do a palm reading for yourself?” You joke, “If you need anyone to do that for you, Joker’s pretty good at that kinda thing.”
She shakes her head, and places the juice box next to her. “It’s not that, it’s just… it wasn’t shaking. I’m not shaking.”
“You think you should be?” You clasp your hands behind your back. Wish I had some stim toys.
“I don’t know what I should be,” She whispers, “But that’s okay. Life is like a pokeathlon, after all.”
Your heart soars, “You remembered!”
“How could I forget?” She giggles, “It did help, though. Thank you.”
“Of course! It’s my responsibility as your senior, after all,” You puff up your chest, and she laughs, “But, seriously, no prob. You’re doing great.”
You both smile at each other, and for once you don’t have to force it. This girl seriously doesn’t realise the power she has, huh .
“Hey, girls!” Ann calls, and you turn to look at her. She makes a beckoning motion; behind her, Ryuji and Makoto are trying to hold Akechi back from mauling Akira. Yusuke is looking at the scene contemplatively, Haru is laughing into her coffee, and Morgana is yowling; it’s the same as always. She continues with, “Get over here, I’m busting out the chocolate! Especially you, Violet. Awakening celebration time!”
You glance back at Sumire, “Shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” She smiles, and takes your hand.