#time to put on your uniform (and accidentally snag a boyfriend)

[i-w-p-chan]

Time to Put on Your Uniform (And Accidentally Snag a Boyfriend), Part 2

Previous

.

It was a day after the Thieves had stolen Kaneshiro’s heart, and were waiting for the change of heart, when the second date happened. So, naturally they took their newest member with them to observe the date from afar.

Kobayashi was wearing a skirt that flared down to her knees, a white shirt with puffy sleeves drooping down her shoulders with the first couple of buttons popped open, and a short, sleeveless jacket thrown on top. She seemed to have listened to what Akira said about heels last time, as she wore flat-heeled boots instead of the high-heels she wore previously.

“So,” Makoto started, a frown on her face, “We’re observing to make sure this Kobayashi isn’t going to be any danger to Akira.”

“Yeah.” Ann nodded, “Do you recognize her from school?”

Makoto shook her head with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry, I don’t. I recognize the name though, I think there is a student at Shujin with the surname Kobayashi. But I’ll need to look through the student registry to confirm that it is indeed the same Kobayashi.”

“Shh!” Ryuji hissed, “They’re starting!”

And so, the Thieves huddled around the phone again while keeping an eye out for the duo they were watching.

“You actually listened to what I said,” Akira started, sounding surprised.

Kobayashi sent him a smirk, “Of course I did, Kurusu-kun. After all, you seemed to be more experienced in this area than me, and you did raise an important point about considering my height when picking out what image I want to project. What do you think of what I’m wearing?” Kobayashi crossed her legs and leaned forward on the table.

Ryuji almost choked when he realized that Kobayashi was leaning to the front just enough for it to be possible to get a peek down her collar, and, more importantly, that Akira really was staring at Kobayashi’s chest. Thankfully, Yusuke acted quickly and pressed his hand against Ryuji’s mouth to muffle him.

Ann and Makoto shared incredulous looks.

“What is going on here?” Makoto was truthfully bewildered.

Akira quirked his head to the side in consideration as he allowed his eyes to trail over Kobayashi’s figure, seemingly not even recognizing the concept of propriety.

“Your bra is showing.”

The Thieves nearly fell to the ground in shock.

“It’s cute, but you’re too flat to work on the chest area as your charm point. I’d recommend diverting attention to your legs instead.”

Ryuji choked while Ann’s jaw dropped, Makoto’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and Yusuke allowed his hand to drop from where he held it to Ryuji’s mouth to raise a shocked eye brow.

Kobayashi chuckled as she leaned back in her chair, subtly adjusting the front of her shirt, “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to say that,” She said, amusement clear in her tone, “And color me impressed; you are taking this seriously. I think we’re better off if I drop the ridiculous get-ups next time we meet.” She cocked her head to the side pensively, “Legs, huh?”

Akira laughed softly, “I can help you there, you know, I know how to work legs.”

She smirked at him, “We’ll see about that next time, Kurusu-kun. Now, about what we’re actually here for-“

The Thieves tuned out the rest of the conversation as the duo moved on to discuss Akira’s probation yet again, and Morgana rejoined their group.

“So…” Makoto started, “What… what do we do next?”

Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh. Wait for the next date and then see if we need to pull an intervention?”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Ann nodded distractedly, “But what do you think of their conversations? It’s like there is an important detail that we’re missing that’s the key to understanding the nuances that makes Akira say the things he said.”

“I agree with Ann,” Yusuke spoke, “Their interactions do indicate that the two of them have a mutual understanding between them that we do not know of.”

“And how do you figure that?” Makoto questioned.

Ann fiddled with her hair, “Akira accompanies me to my photo shoots sometimes, and I ask him his opinion about my clothes or make-up sometimes just in case I missed something. The way he responds to my questions reminds me of how he criticizes Kobayashi’s attire. So, it’s like. Hmm, how do I describe this?” Ann frowned.

Morgana flicked his tail, “It’s like he’s treating the image you’re trying to project as a goal and starts picking at your choice of clothes and make up from the point of view of how functional they are towards what you want to show.”

“Like you’re getting dressed up for a play?” Ryuji wondered.

“Or possibly a disguise,” Yusuke added, and the Thieves turned to look at him in shock.

“That’s… highly likely, actually.” Makoto blinked.

The Thieves quieted down as they mulled over the situation.

A few minutes later, Ryuji broke the silence, “So does that mean that Kobayashi is in disguise?”

“And Akira knows her real identity.” Morgana frowned in concentration.

Makoto sighed, “I guess we should part ways for the day. I’ll make sure to look into the registry and inform you of what I find.”

“Alright, Queen, we’re counting on you.” Ryuji smiled cheekily, and Makoto huffed in amusement.

“In the mean time, we’ll see if we can get anything out of Akira.” Ann grinned in excitement.

“We shouldn’t get our hopes up about that though, Lady Ann. Akira can be quite tight-lipped when he wants to be.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to interrogate him about Kobayashi, we’re simply curious about his new girlfriend aren’t we?” Ann winked deviously.

Yusuke chuckled in amusement, “Teasing him about a girlfriend, are we?”

“I get the feeling that he’s going to laugh in our faces about this.” Morgana shook his head.

“Then we’re going to bug him more!” Ryuji and Ann fist bumped.

Morgana fought to keep an amused grin down before he gave up, “Alright…”

.

Their attempts at getting info out of Akira failed spectacularly, not that they were surprised about that particular fact, and their plans all derailed when they teased him about having a girlfriend.

Instead of flustering him, they ended up being the ones flustered as Akira cocked his hip out, grinned wickedly, and winked at them.

“So what if I do?” He purred, eyes half-lidded.

It was a devastating combo, and they may or may not have been too busy mentally flailing to keep up the original conversation.

And so, they had to put the girlfriend topic aside to recover. Unfortunately for them, exams coupled with the incident with Medjed and Alibaba threw all their plans out the window.

.

Hectic summer break plus Thief work made sure that the group missed at least three of Akira’s and Kobayashi’s dates, a fact that made them all grumble as they made their way to a date they finally managed to free their schedule for.

They all twitched at the mere thought of what other development they could have missed while they weren’t around the duo. Plus, they couldn’t send Morgana close enough with a phone to listen in because Akira and Kobayashi were inside a shop this time, and a cat was very likely to be noticed and kicked out.

“So, as you all know, Kobayashi isn’t a Shujin student,” Makoto started, “Which makes her approaching Akira more suspicious. We all know she’s interested in his probation, but what is she hoping to accomplish with all the information she gathered from Akira?”

The group mulled over the question for the umpteenth time since Kobayashi barged into their lives (or more accurately, Akira’s, but it didn’t make much of a difference for them anyway), and tried to figure what the duo was doing inside a shop for accessories from what little they could glimpse through the shop’s window a few meters ahead of them.

Their silent observation was interrupted by the sound of Makoto’s phone chiming with an incoming message. She blinked as she took out her phone, wondering who might be messaging her, and she raised an eyebrow at the screen when she saw the name of the sender.

“Futaba?”

The rest of the Thieves looked in her direction at the sound of the name, “What about Futaba?” Ann inquired.

“She just sent me a message, asking me what we’re doing together so close to Akira while he’s on his date.”

“How does she know- wait never mind.” Ryuji sighed.

Makoto blushed faintly when Futaba’s next message pinpointed exactly what they were doing, and caused Makoto to quickly send back that they were not stalking Akira and his date.

As the topic moved to a new group chat that involved the rest of the Thieves in the area (sans Akira, naturally), their attention was diverted from their previous task to trying to defend themselves against the cheeky messages and remarks Futaba sent them.

Futaba: HAH! Futaba: You’re just jealous Akira became someone else’s arm candy ;3 Futaba: also just a heads up but Akira and Date just left the shop.

Without hesitation, all the Thieves whipped their heads in the direction of the shop to see that Akira and Kobayashi were, indeed, leaving the shop. With a bag of items being carried by Akira.

And.

Holding hands.

“They’re holding hands!” Ryuji hissed.

“Look at his face!” Ann pointed out, and the Thieves focused on Akira’s face as he leaned down to whisper something in Kobayashi’s ear with a small smile on his face, and Kobayashi sent him a smile back.

“He’s smiling,” Yusuke mused, raising his hands to frame the duo in his sight with his fingers.

“That’s…” Makoto trailed off, her eyes scouring the sight in front of her, picking up clues and picking them apart, “He’s… taller than her? But how? Didn’t you say that she was taller? She’s not wearing any right now so ho- oh…”

“What? Yeah, she’s supposed to be taller, what are you talking abo- oh…” Ryuji’s eyes widened as he too noticed what caused Makoto to quiet down.

“He’s the one wearing heels,” Morgana said, curiosity in his tone.

“And nice ones, too.” Ann noted.

“Given his Metaverse costume, it’s not that surprising.” Yusuke nodded, “Even if the heels Akira is wearing right now are higher.”

As the duo disappeared from sight, the Thieves huddled together to discuss the matter between them.

“So, what now?” Ann asked, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“We said we’ll see how this date goes and then decide what to do next.” Makoto reminded them.

“True.” Morgana hummed thoughtfully, “But Akira was smiling. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile like that before, so I figure he’s enjoying himself.”

“It sounds like we don’t need to hover around anymore.” Yusuke nodded.

“Well.” Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck, “Guess that means we don’t need to supervise anymore, eh?”

“Sounds about right,” Makoto replied.

“Then, we should head back home. Or…” Ann fiddled with her hair, “Since we’re all here and have already cleared our schedule for this, maybe we could just hang around and have fun ourselves?”

“Ooh, sounds like a marvelous idea, Lady Ann!”

“I’ll take you up on that offer.” Yusuke smiled.

“Oh, I will, too.” Makoto’s face grew a bit reddish with a pleased blush.

“Well then, it’s settled.” Ryuji grinned, “Let’s go get some ramen!”

Their phones chimed then.

Futaba: hey! Futaba: you better get me some snacks! Futaba: can’t have you all having fun without me! Futaba: and send pictures! Futaba: or I’ll send pictures of me hogging all of Sojiro’s curry!

.

And so, the Thieves dropped their plans for constant surveillance of Akira’s and Kobayashi’s meet-ups. Well, except for one time when they had to get back to the observation for a more light-hearted reason.

It was when Haru joined, and it had already felt like watching over Akira on one of his dates with Kobayashi was an initiation of sorts for new members, so they took Haru with them when they knew for sure Akira was planning to go on a date with Kobayashi.

“Oh, Aki-kun has a girlfriend?” Haru cocked her head to the side, eyes wide in wonder, “And she’s not a member of the Thieves? Huh…”

“Is something the matter?” Ann asked when Haru’s expression changed into one of confusion.

“Well, I didn’t think Aki-kun would date someone who isn’t in the know, because that means he’ll be keeping such an important secret from them and all, so…” Haru ducked her head, “Don’t mind what I just said, please, I’m just new here so I probably don’t know the whole story.”

“Well, as far as I know,” Makoto started, placing a comforting hand on Haru’s shoulder, “Kobayashi initially approached Akira to discuss his probation with him, so it’s not like she thinks she’s getting involved with a regular high school student.”

“Besides that,” Morgana added, “We don’t know if she caught onto him or not, as we don’t know what they talk about, we did stop out surveillance eventually, after all.”

Futaba snickered, “You just say that because none of you has access to his phone.” Her eyes gleamed wickedly, “But I do. And do you know what that means? I know some interesting things about this so called Kobayashi that will shock you so much. Mwehehehehehe.”

The Thieves exchanged fond looks over Futaba’s head, and Ryuji snorted, “Please, I don’t want to hear anything about any exchanged nudes or sexting.”

Futaba pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “There were more nudes than you’d expect, but I don’t think they’re the type of nudes you’re thinking of.”

Silence.

“Futaba,” Ann and Yusuke both started at the same time.

“There is no need to talk of such a topic.”

“Do you have copies?”

Ryuji face-palmed, “Dude, what did we say about nudes?”

“Shh! Quiet down!” Morgana hissed, “There is Kobayashi.”

The group subtly turned their heads to observe Kobayashi.

“It’s strange, but I miss the cute outfits from the first couple of dates,” Ann mused.

“The formal clothes seem to fit her more, though,” Makoto interjected.

“Both styles hold their appeal,” Yusuke added, “Though I agree with Ann and would like to see Kobayashi indulge in more informal wear.”

Ryuji raised his face to the sky, “I can’t believe they’re having this discussion.”

Futaba merely chuckled lowly, and Haru smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to act in the situation. Morgana just sighed.

“When will Aki-kun arrive?”

Futaba shrugged and checked her phone, “He shouldn’t be far from here. Should arrive at any moment now.”

Hearing what Futaba said, the group settled down more comfortably to wait for Akira.

A minute later, a figure approached Kobayashi, but it wasn’t Akira. It was a girl around their age, with short, dark hair combed messily to one side while pinned on the other with a few star-shaped hair clips, dark eyes with long lashes, red lips, a long-sleeved white turtleneck with a short-sleeved black and red hoodie on top of it, a short dark red skirt, black tights, smoky gray high heeled boots, and very nice legs.

The new, mysterious girl then sat down next to Kobayashi and practically pressed herself to Kobayashi’s side. Kobayashi’s face flared red, but she didn’t do anything to disentangle herself from the other girl.

They could see Kobayashi cough into her hand and try to will down her blush before she leaned into the girl and started to talk to her. The girl grinned wickedly and said something in response. Whatever she said, it caused Kobayashi to shake her head with a fond smile on her face.

And then Kobayashi grabbed a hold of the girl’s chin and kissed her. Right on the lips.

Ryuji was out of his seat and standing in front of the two girls before he realized it, the Thieves scrambling to catch up to him.

The two girls blinked up at him in confusion.

“You!” Ryuji pointed accusingly at Kobayashi, whose confusion seemed to increase, “What are you doing getting it on with another girl?! Aren’t you Akira’s girlfriend?!”

Behind Ryuji, Futaba seemed to have started snickering again.

Kobayashi raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “To think you all are that dense…” She drawled, and Ryuji bristled.

The other girl waved a hand, “Ryuji, it’s alright.”

The voice…

Her voice was…

“Akira?” Makoto asked in disbelief.

Akira (?) nodded in confirmation, “I was promised a kiss if I showed off in public.”

“Um.” Ann raised a hand, “That’s. You look very comfortable in your outfit it can’t be your first time doing something like this.”

Akira shrugged, “It’s not. I’ve done it plenty of times before I came to Tokyo, I just didn’t think I’ll be able to do it again in here, what with my probation and all. But then I met, hah, Kobayashi.” Akira sent a smirk Kobayashi’s way, and she merely fluttered her eye lashes at him flirtatiously.

“Those comments about the height and chest suddenly make a lot more sense,” Makoto muttered under her breath, “If one considers that Akira was talking about crossdressing and laying low but… why would he say that to Kobayashi?”

“Make a guess,” Kobayashi said, tone challenging.

“You’re a crossdresser as well,” Makoto said, eyes wide, “But that means tha-“ Her eyes widened as her jaw dropped from shock.

“Wait, that means what?” Ryuji asked, looking miffed.

Futaba wheezed from behind him.

“Are you alright, Futaba-chan?” Haru asked worriedly, and Futaba gasped.

“I’m fine. Just. Laughed too hard.”

“You knew,” Yusuke noted.

“Of course she did.” Kobayashi shook her head with slight annoyance, “She has both Akira and Leblanc bugged, how wouldn’t she?”

“Um,” Ann interjected, “But who are you?”

Kobayashi leveled her with a flat stare, “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to guess, after all this is supposed to serve as a disguise,” Kobayashi responded, her voice different, but still so very familiar.

“Ah!”

“AKE-!” Ryuji’s exclamation was cut off midway by Haru slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Akechi-san.” Yusuke nodded.

“Got it in one,” The crossdressing Detective Prince replied dryly.

.

End

[forestwater87]

Things have been . . . weird since David visited. Like a veil's fallen that really should've stayed up.

Like it's just a matter of time before things all go to hell.

So this happened! It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have @raenbowsofficial​ beta-ing and @hopefullypessimistic84​ and @ciphernetics​ keeping me, as usual, from completely ripping this story into pieces and sobbing on the fragments. You have them to blame for this. (It was going to be much longer but then things got weird so I’m splitting it up. But next chapter we’re returning to camp, so yay!)

The chapter is also below the cut, in case you prefer reading stuff in Tumblr instead of AO3.

Also the title is shamelessly ripping from the Gwenniest song that has ever existed. It’s amazing and everyone should listen to it.

April 2017

"It's your birthdayyyyyy! You can't say you're just gonna do nothing!"

Gwen glanced up at Claire with a frown. She'd sort of assumed the ripped tank top and oversized boxers — as well as the fact that she was curled up in bed surrounded by two family-sized bags of Cheetos — spoke for her. "Right, but I just did."

Claire maneuvered the chaotic bedroom, plopping down on the foot of the bed (nearly squashing Platypus, who'd taken shelter under a pile of blankets). "But you're twenty-seven!"

"That's not an important year, Claire-bear. No one gives a shit about 27. Besides, I have work tomorrow."

She dismissed the thought with a wave. "It's a Thursday night, work doesn't matter." Her face turned serious, the kind of doe-eyed earnestness that reminded her painfully of David. "You've been moping ever since he left, Gwen. I just got used to seeing you happy."

Gwen rolled her eyes, trying not to be touched by her roommate's concern. "He didn't die," she muttered, "he went back home. It's fine. We're talking tonight." For like five minutes, because he had work. And that was fine, they'd planned for that, she knew he had to work himself ragged to live on his camp counselor's salary.

It didn't bother her.

"Come onnnn, Santa. Please let us take you out?" She pouted, and it was irritatingly adorable; Claire was a porcelain doll, all delicate features and fragile vulnerability that made it almost impossible to say no to her. (She never had to pay for things. It was so unfair.)

But fuck, Gwen hated socializing. "Maybe," she finally said, pulling her computer into her lap and pointedly turning her attention to Tumblr. "I'll check with David."

"I think it's a great idea!"

Gwen sighed. Of course he did. Not that he was the kind of guy who'd forbid her to go even if he didn't want her to, but that'd been her last possible excuse. "Are you sure? New York's dangerous, and I'll be drinking." She paused meaningfully. "Could be risky."

There was just the briefest hesitation. "I'm sure you'll be fine!" Another tiny pause, then David added, "You have Claire and Ana going with you, right?"

"Yeah." Not that she expected her roommates to be much help in an attempted kidnapping scenario, but if this stupid celebration bullshit was inevitable, she didn't want him worrying all night. He might accidentally get distracted and kill one of the people at the retirement home or something. "It'll be fine, I just don't wanna."

She couldn't see him, of course, but she could piece together an image: it was a Thursday afternoon, so he was probably getting ready to start his shift at the diner. Which meant he was dressed in his uniform: an ugly yellow polo and pale-green apron over his usual shorts, with the camp bandanna tied around his neck. He liked to walk when the weather was nice, and since she could hear the sounds of traffic and voices in the background she assumed he was on his way there now, bopping along through his storybook town with his goofy bounding gait.

He was smiling, of course he was smiling. He was almost always smiling.

"Well, it is your birthday, so you can do whatever you want! But . . . I don't want you to be lonely." Some of the brightness dropped out of his voice. "I'm sorry I won't be there."

Gwen snorted. "That's fucking stupid. It's just a day. You visited like two weeks ago, and you didn't even have to do that. It's fine." It was as much a reminder to herself as to him, because as selfish and unreasonable as it was to be disappointed, she couldn't help but feel a small pang that the one person she really wanted to see wouldn't be around.

God, the one person you wanna see? Melodramatic much?

Besides, he'd gotten her a present, even though they hadn't been dating long enough to warrant it. Sure, she'd given him a dorky green plaid Snuggie for his birthday, but that was a joke more than a real gift, because it was December and fit the whole weird nature-hipster vibe he had going on. (Okay, so he'd teared up and as far as she knew wore it more than any reasonable person should, but that was just how David was; she could've gotten him a $1 keychain and he would've had the same reaction.) The highlighter-pink butterfly knife he'd given her in return, besides being the single most David gift she could imagine — because what the fuck was she supposed to do with a giant-ass knife in the middle of Brooklyn? Was it in case an impromptu camping trip broke out on the subway? — was way nicer than she deserved.

"I think you'll have a lot of fun, Gwen. You should think about it." And the way he said it was so sincere and eager that she knew she had to go, because she couldn't let him down.

"I'm not promising anything," she said with a groan, kicking herself free of the mass of rumpled sheets that buried her bed and stumbling over to the closet. "Christ, now I have to find something to wear." She started rummaging through her closet, putting her phone on speaker so she could hunt. "We're looking for something that says 'I'm hot enough to be tagged in Facebook photos' but also 'if you try to touch me I'll rip your face off and use it as a cocktail umbrella.'"

David laughed, and the sound was like a burst of sunlight. "Just make sure you're safe! You have that knife —"

"What d'you think I'm using to cut off their faces?" Gwen snagged one of her what seemed like thousands of variations on the little black dress (god, she had a lot of slutwear, didn't she? Amazing how half her closet had become irrelevant now that she'd had a steady boyfriend for more than 6 months), a high-waisted flared miniskirt and a lacy black crop top. Sleeveless, but it went up to her neck and there was only a thin strip of midriff to worry about, so while it was a little light for the weather, it wasn't like she'd be spending much time outside. "There we go. Nice and skanky." She snorted and rolled her eyes, setting it aside and diving back into the mess for shoes. "I better not have to buy a single drink tonight, because I'm gonna look awesome."

"You're always beautiful!" She didn't respond, focused on finding a pair of heels that wouldn't make her want to chop her feet off by the end of the night, and after a few moments he asked, "Um . . . if — if you don't mind . . ."

"Hmm?" Gwen leaned back, inclining her ear toward the phone. David's voice had dropped, and she could barely hear him inside the closet.

"Nothing! I was . . . just wondering . . ." He chuckled awkwardly, and she could practically see him fidgeting with his bandanna. The dork. "If, well, before you go out, if you wouldn't mind t-taking a picture . . . of you, uh, all dressed up?"

Her mind filled in the blanks easily; she'd had enough practice speaking David to be pretty good at translating. "You fucking perv," she said with a laugh, grinning at his despairing squeak.

"I didn't — ! I mean, you don't ha-ave to, it's fine. Never mind." He sounded ridiculously bashful, and the image of him leaning against a streetlight or wall, bright red and stammering, was so vivid she felt a squeeze of something like homesickness constrict her chest, so intense it made her eyes sting.

"It's . . . hey, no problem, David." She cleared her throat, shaking her head to clear it. "If there's one thing I do well, it's take a hot selfie."

"You do lots of things well!"

For some reason the words, and the cheerful confidence with which he said them, made her wince. Which was obviously fucking stupid; she should just be happy someone was dumb enough to think that highly of her. "Go to work, you loser. You'll get in trouble if you're late, and I've got shit to do." She didn't, but she didn't want to be on the phone anymore either.

"Oh. Um, okay, of course!" He sounded just the tiniest bit off, just a pitch or two below his normal levels of happy, and she felt like a jackass for bumming him out like that. Why did she always have to bring the mood down with her whining? "Have a nice evening!"

"Y- . . ." Gwen paused, squeezing her eyes shut for a second and swallowing hard. "Yeah. You too. Bye."

She let the phone drop to the floor and returned to her bed.

An hour in and Gwen was convinced she should've stayed in bed. Three hours in, she started to wonder if she'd ever see her bed again.

It was around midnight, as she was considering abandoning her roommates to their own devices, that she felt a hand on her hip. It was large and warm, and for half a second she leaned into it before remembering that David was 6 hours away. "Hey." She kept her voice neutral because it was hard to tell who was just a normal creep and who was a "it puts the lotion on its skin" kinda creep, but she firmly took the stranger's wrist and plucked his hand off of her. "I have a boyfriend, but thanks."

As soon as she'd dropped his arm, shoving it toward him like pushing a boat away from the dock at camp, there was another on her shoulder, turning her to face him. He was cute, she supposed, in a very "my dad's a Republican" way, which wasn't her type: big and broad, dressed in artfully-distressed jeans, boat shoes, and a lilac button-down that matched his hair — hair that actually reminded her a little of David's, but that was where the similarities ended. This stranger was tan and muscled, with well-cared-for, uncalloused hands and thick square nails that weren't bitten short and ragged. There was none of David's nervous fluttery energy; she had a feeling this guy would never appear at the breakfast table with his shirt on inside-out because he was just too excited about starting the day to check his clothes.

He also might be an octopus. Gwen couldn't get far enough away to get a good look at his arms, but every time she moved one off of her another appeared — on her waist, in her hair, at her elbow, dangerously close to her ass. It seemed like way too many hands for one person.

"Wanna dance?" he asked, steamrollering over her. "Your boyfriend won't mind you dancing, right? We'll just dance as friends." Gwen opened her mouth to reply, but his hand planted on the small of her back in what seemed like a very unfriendly way. "You can't say no to making a new friend, right?"

"Hey." The voice came from behind her, deep enough to rumble in her chest, and the next thing she knew there was yet another hand on her, pulling her against his side. "Thought I'd lost you, babe." The stranger pecked her on top of the head, a quick kiss and a squeeze around her shoulders, then turned to the lavender bro and said, "See ya around" before dragging her toward the bar.

She wriggled free of the heavy arm constricting her neck. "The fuck're you doing?"

He smirked, leaning against the bar and ordering with just the lift of two fingers. "Saving you from that guy." He shrugged, gesturing to the stool next to him. "Never done the fake-boyfriend thing before, but I figured you'd appreciate being rescued."

Gwen paused. On the one hand, she'd most certainly wanted to get away, and there was something strangely romantic about someone swooping in and pretending to be her boyfriend like that. On the other hand, she was now with another total stranger, one who was showing no signs of helping her get a ride home, or find her friends, or . . . well, anything she'd expect from someone truly interested in aiding a drunk woman in distress. Things, she realized with a pang, David would do in a heartbeat. "Listen, that was . . . uh, nice of you, but I —"

"Have a boyfriend. I heard," he replied, sounding bored. As two beers were set in front of him, he pushed one of them in her direction without looking over. "They're craft, local. Only shit worth drinking." He glanced at her sideways, a dismissive flick of his eyes before returning to the dance floor. "Everywhere else serves cheap manufactured shit thinking the sorority girls buying it on their daddy's credit card are too dumb or wasted to know the difference. No offense."

She bristled, taking the drink. It tasted exactly like every other mediocre beer she'd had in a club, but she tried to look vaguely impressed, like she knew what he was talking about. "I'm twenty-seven," she muttered into the bottle. "I'm not a sorority girl. Not dumb either," she added belatedly, wincing at her own painful lack of cool. Not that it mattered if some douchebag with a bad haircut and thick-rimmed glasses thought she was cool, but it was . . . kind of a habit at this point, to try and prove herself.

"Huh. You seemed like the type, with that whole —" He gestured at her vaguely, "hot bimbo look. Trying to recapture the glory days?"

"No. I was never into that kinda thing." And she didn't know why she felt compelled to keep talking, except that something about being underestimated by this guy felt strangely familiar, and it really, really bothered her. "My friends dragged me here."

"Some friends." He snorted. "But yeah, same. Roommate's bachelor party. I've been reading out of protest." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn paperback copy of Breakfast of Champions. "Vonnegut. Recommendation: read the book, don't watch the movie."

Swoon. There was a part of Gwen that was very susceptible to this, a guy reading in a bar, noticing she was in distress and sweeping her away, all condescending half-compliments and a weird inexplicable magnetism.

He was her type, definitely. And yet . . .

She glanced away, biting back a giggle. Because the first thing that entered her mind was David's voice, concerned and alarmed and unintentionally devastating: "He shouldn't read in a place like this! He'll strain his eyes!" And the image of David, walking up to this stranger and accidentally ruining his bad-boy-intellectual persona by offering the flashlight he always kept on his keyring . . . well, it was ridiculous.

Almost as ridiculous as trying to read in the middle of a club. "I wrote my thesis on American satire." (Okay, no she hadn't, but "I took a class on it once" didn't sound as good. And for whatever stupid reason, she wanted to sound good.) "So thanks, I'll take that under consideration."

Gwen wasn't sure if she'd said that to make him leave or prolong the conversation, so she didn't know how to feel when his eyebrows flicked up, impressed. "No kidding? Did you notice how the story's structure mirrors the emptiness of human existe —"

"Sure did," she grumbled, taking another sip of her syrupy beer and trying to figure out what she was still doing in this conversation. She wasn't enjoying herself, and wasn't that the entire fucking point of a birthday? "Listen, thanks for the beer and everything, but . . ."

"The boyfriend." He rolled his eyes, leaning against the bar with a dramatic sigh. "You know, you're really not my type. I haven't been flirting with you at all, in fact." He peered at her over his thick glasses, a shock of floppy black hair falling into his reddish eyes. "Maybe I'm not the one you keep reminding."

"I —" That wasn't fair, she'd only mentioned David once. And what kind of arrogant jerk assumed someone was into them mid-rejection? But something about his tone of voice, his indifferent confidence despite being completely wrong, was oddly attractive. Like she'd been here before.

Like she'd be here again.

He was familiar, that was the thing. Almost comforting, the way Camp Campbell was comforting in its predictable shittiness. It wasn't new, it wasn't scary. If she kept flirting with him she could more or less see where it'd go — plus or minus the random fluttering hope that this one would work out, that she could change him, that she could save him. That he could save her.

He leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, a move she'd considered romantic up until this second. But if he was bothered by the way she jerked away he didn't show it, taking a sip from his beer with a bored shrug. "Just seems like you wouldn't be here talking to me if you were happy." He glanced at her sideways. "Let me guess, he's really nice."

The way he said that, sneered it like it was something to be embarrassed about, made her skin prickle. "Fuck off," she snarled, pushing away from the bar finally.

"Knew it." And he was so smug, in a way she would've melted for this time last year but now made her seriously tempted to deck him. "Some friendly advice, not-sorority girl: consider finding someone you deserve." He set his drink down, cupped her cheek with one hand. "Why waste a nice guy's time?"

And like he'd choreographed it his mouth was on hers before she could respond, and first she was just shocked but then she felt sick because he was right, he was an unwashed prick too stupid to know it was a bad idea to try and read in a dimly-lit bar but he'd nailed her relationship to the detail. He was wrong about the conclusion — he wanted her to think she was too good for David but it was the opposite, David was too good for her.

And . . . now he knew it.

David had visited her home, he'd met her family and seen her life and gotten front-row seats to what a disaster she was, so much of a mess she couldn't even make people related to her love her, and he knew how much work she'd be — and all of that was two weeks ago but for those two weeks she'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, to pick up the phone and hear "maybe you shouldn't come back to camp this summer." Every time he had to work or call Julia or visit his mom it felt like an excuse to avoid her.

But that wasn't fair. If anything she was avoiding him: letting texts go unanswered, not picking up the phone immediately, looking for shifts when she knew he was free because if he couldn't talk to her he couldn't leave her. It was dumb, it was crazy and dumb and cruel but she was scared okay, guys like David scared her and guys who read in bars didn't. She wasn't afraid of guys who kissed her like they knew they were good at it, kissed her like they owned her instead of shaking from nerves or want or whatever it was that made David fall apart when she touched him. She wasn't afraid of guys who liked to watch her scramble to impress them because they were prepared to be disappointed, they looked forward to it because it proved them right, they didn't have expectations for her to fall short of they didn't put her on a pedestal they didn't have a look in their eyes, like she was special and beautiful and worthwhile, that she was so afraid to lose it kept her up at night. She didn't have to be afraid of guys who looked down on her because she knew what she was getting, and so did they: they expected an insecure defensive girl who sometimes cried for no reason and sometimes couldn't force herself out of bed, and so she didn't have to lie and pretend to keep it together, because if she did those things she wasn't letting them down, she was just doing what they expected and they'd respond the way she expected and nobody was unpleasantly surprised.

And if she was going to fail David, if eventually he'd just come to see what her parents did and her brothers did and Campbell did and everyone who'd ever dated her did . . . then what was the point in wasting his time?

"See what I mean?" he whispered, pulling back just far enough to move his lips. His breath smelled like beer with an undertone of cigarette smoke, acrid and familiar. One hand traced up her thigh, stopping at the hem of her skirt.

She smiled, because she did.

"Gwen?" Audree's voice was bleary, sleep-sluggish; of course it was, Gwen was on her doorstep at one in the morning and Audree worked insane hours, she was a professional, she didn't have time for stupid childish relationship bullshit.

But here she was, shivering in the unseasonably cold weather with her numb lips nearly kissing a small black intercom. Because she didn't have any close friends and her roommates were too drunk and her mom would never understand and David — she couldn't talk to David.

Like always, Gwen needed her big sister.

"I . . ." She paused, trying to figure out how to explain herself. "Audree, I . . ."

That was as far as she got before she started crying.

"Fuck, Gwennie, hold on." There was a shrill, unpleasant buzzing at her ear, and she'd barely pushed open the door to the apartment building when Audree burst into view, careening around the stairs and nearly knocking Gwen down. "Are you okay?" Audree asked, taking her by the shoulders and looking her up and down. Her jaw tightened; Gwen didn't know what she looked like, but after 45 minutes of sobbing in the back of an Uber it probably wasn't pretty. "What happened? Who —"

"S'fine," she choked out, pushing Audree away and wiping at her face. "No one — it was me, I . . ."

Audree led her up to the apartment, settling her down on the couch before taking a seat in the chair opposite, putting her chin in her hands and watching Gwen with a laser-focused intensity that would've been unnerving if she wasn't used to it. (Her sister's resting expression went beyond "bitch face" into "American Psycho face," which made her a great lawyer and a terrible comforter.) She didn't say anything, just waited with those searching teal eyes cataloging everything about her, like she was already preparing her testimony against whoever'd hurt her baby sister. "Yes, Your Honor, she arrived at exactly 1:15 am. She didn't seem to have any visible bruises but she was crying . . ."

"Nobody hurt me," she finally muttered, staring down at her stupid slutty shoes, shoes she'd only worn because she'd once bullied David into admitting he had a thing for red heels. All that effort for a stupid fucking picture. "I'm just . . . shitty." Audree made a soft encouraging sound, a quiet noncommittal hum, a "I minored in social work and want you to open up at your own pace" noise that worked on witnesses and it worked on her. "I, uh, kissed this guy. I mean, he kissed me but I kinda knew he would and he was a dick and I probably could've, like, stopped him but I didn't." Her fingers were shaking. Why were her fingers shaking? "He, he w-wanted to — I mean he didn't ask but I could tell he was gonna and I was scared of what I'd say because what if I said yes? And I freaked out and left and I di- hhhidn't know where to go so I came here." She winced, realizing how selfish that was. "Sorry to wake you up."

For a minute Audree was quiet. "So do you like this guy or . . ."

Gwen made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a sob. "What? No."

"So you feel guilty because you didn't successfully fend off a creep before he assaulted you?" Almost immediately she added, "Fuck, sorry Gwennie, I promise I'm not lawyering you, I'm just a cunt sometimes. I didn't mean it like that, lemme try again." She took an exaggerated deep breath. "You were talking to a guy, and you think he was hitting on you and you . . . flirted back?"

"Not really." Sure, it was sometimes hard to tell where the line between "go fuck yourself tee hee" and "go fuck yourself before I stab you in the eye with this straw" was, but she had trouble imagining how (outside a bad romance novel) she could've been flirting. "I told him I had a boyfriend. But he said — he said I shouldn't be with a guy like David!"

"Riiiiiight, but this guy was an asshole. And he was wrong about you wanting him to kiss you."

"Well . . ." Audree was mostly right. What Gwen wanted was to be in David's ridiculously grandmotherly apartment, curled up under the bright pink blanket he'd knitted in high school and listening to him try to teach her Pokémon. Yet that didn't explain the strange attraction she'd had to the arrogant creep, the familiarity.

She hadn't wanted that stranger to kiss her, not exactly. But something about it had felt right.

"Listen, Gwen, there's nothing wrong with wanting to kiss someone, because, y'know, you're not dead." She leaned forward, fixing her with that iron stare that was half "trust me, I'm your sister and I love you" and half "eagle watching a mouse." (Great lawyer. Terrible comforter.) "Hell, there's nothing wrong with flirting either. What I don't get is why some douchebag's opinion matters so much."

Neither did she, exactly. "He reminded me of . . ." Well jeez, she could start listing names but they'd be there all night, "of some of the guys I've dated."

Audree quirked one eyebrow. "Even more reason not to listen to him."

"I know, but —" Audree's apartment was warm, she could afford real heat. It was warm and comforting and she was safe, so why were her fingers still shaking? "He was my type."

She pressed her lips together. "You know what I think about your type, Gwennie." This was a conversation they'd had a few (hundred) times before. "You deserve better."

"Why?"

And there it was. Like something in her chest had snapped, words came spilling out in a rush. "I'm not a good person, Dree. I don't have anything going for me, so in what fucking universe do I deserve better? And okay, maybe I could find a nice guy, but not David. He . . . he deserves someone sweet and pretty and h-happy and not . . ."

Broken.

It sounded so melodramatic, but she was. Because whole people weren't paralyzed by their own self-loathing, they didn't try ruin things before they could even get started, they didn't kiss smoke-flavored strangers in bars because they loved their boyfriend too much and were terrified of that.

"He loves kids, and I don't. We don't — don't have anything in common, and sometimes . . . I don't know what we have going for us except, y'know, stuff he doesn't have to get from me."

Audree wrinkled her nose. "Not an image I needed, sis." She grimaced and said, "Fuck, I'm being an asshole again, sorry," moving so she was sitting on the couch next to her and pulling her into an awkward half-hug. (None of the Santos clan were very good at hugging, something Gwen hadn't really noticed until she'd gotten used to David's.) "You don't think you're right for him?"

Gwen didn't think she was right, period. "I just think he . . . if he knew better, he wouldn't waste his time on me."

"Isn't that kinda his decision?"

She shrugged, leaning her head into the soft black cloud of Audree's hair. "But he's new to all this. Isn't my terrible dating experience good for something?"

"Yes," Audree said firmly. "It means you know what not to do. You know how people can make each other feel like shit, and you can do the opposite."

Gwen made a face. "I'm not . . . good at that kinda thing. The being-nice thing."

"Look who you're fucking talking to. But don't you wanna try?" She pulled back, her expression expectant and pitying. "It seems like you think he deserves that."

She couldn't meet her sister's eyes, so she picked at the carpet's upholstery. "You sound like David's mom. She's all smart and has her shit together too."

"Oh?" Audree's eyes lit up, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Single mother, right? Bit of a cougar?"

Gwen picked up a pillow and hit her with a snort of disgust. "No, you don't get to hit on his mom! I mean, you're probably never gonna meet her, because shit'll go wrong way before then, but still. Leave her alone."

"Oh, Gwen." Her smile softened, and she snuggled closer to slip an arm around Gwen's shoulders. "Someday you're gonna believe you deserve the good things that happen to you. And I'm gonna be there to say I told you so."

She laughed, the sound weak and hollow even to her. "Well now it has to happen, because you're never wrong." She sighed, adjusting Audree's arm so it was less stiff and uncomfortable. "He should be with someone like you," she muttered finally. "Someone hotter and without all the, like, bitterness and failure."

"Nuh-uh. David's cute, but have you seen women?" Gwen tried to smile, but she was exhausted all of a sudden. "You need to talk to him, y'know, about all this shit. Because I mean, I don't know the guy, but he didn't look like he has a fucking clue you're thinking any of this."

Audree was probably right. She usually was. But the last thing Gwen wanted to do was explain to David in painstaking detail all the reasons he deserved so much better than her, especially when he was probably already beginning to put the pieces together himself. (How could he not, after seeing how she lived?) "Yeah, probably."

"That's the best I'm getting, huh?" Audree ruffled her hair and climbed to her feet, stretching. "It's way too late for you to go home. Your room's waiting for you."

"It's not my room," Gwen grumbled, following Audree into the guest room and accepting the pajamas her sister found for her.

She grinned. "It could be." When Gwen didn't respond, she frowned and leaned against the wall. "Come on, at least think about moving in."

"I told you, I can't afford this. I couldn't even pay a quarter of the rent, so I dunno why you're even bothering." She did, of course; her sister was a good person, and she worried.

"I pay full rent on this place anyway, I don't need you chipping in anything. And it's not charity," she added as Gwen opened her mouth, "I wanna live with you."

She knew better than to ask why (no one needed a middle-of-the-night lecture on self-esteem), but they both knew she was thinking it. "I have Platypus, though."

"I love that little fucker, so don't even try to use him against me." Giving up, she pecked Gwen on the temple. "Fine, go to sleep. Just . . . I want you to move in because I like spending time with you. I think David does, too. It's okay if you're all you have to offer, all right? It's good enough."

Gwen was going to make fun of her, ask her what stupid self-help book she'd found that in. But her throat was a little tight, so she just nodded. "Thanks, Dree. Night."

"Night, Gwennie. It's gonna be fine, okay?"

She wanted to believe that.

[i-w-p-chan]

Time to Put on Your Uniform (And Accidentally Snag a Boyfriend), Part 1

Summary: Akira gets a ‘girlfriend’ and the Thieves try to Deal.

Note: Sometimes the shuake server has interesting conversations like one that involved crossdressing. And this happened.

Warnings: Very Self-Indulgent, SUPPOSED To Be A Trash Fic But I Dunno Now, Crossdressing, Excessive Description Of Clothes, Longer Than It Deserves, Akira Comes Off As An Asshole At A Couple Of Points Without Context, Brief Appearance By DayumThoseLegs.

Disclaimer: Don’t own P5.

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“Um, excuse me.” A soft voice called out, and Ryuji and Akira turned to see who stood behind them, only to be shocked at the sight of a Shujin student a year ahead of them. She had brown hair that tumbled down to her shoulders and reddish brown eyes set in a gentle looking face, she wore the standard Shujin uniform but with the sweater instead of the blazer, and dark thigh highs.

And man, she was tall. Well, she was taller than both Ryuji and Akira, helped along with an extra inch from her shoes.

Akira merely cocked his head to the side, and Ryuji took a step forward to confront the girl, easily stepping in between her and Akira; the whole school (outside Ryuji, Ann, and Mishima) had it out for Akira, so what would a third year student want with them? And what would it cause her to approach them out of school after classes ended for the day and the students had already dispersed to go wherever the hell they went to after school?

“What do you want?” Ryuji frowned at her and she responded with a saccharine sweet smile.

“Oh, I wanted to ask Kurusu-kun something.”

“And what is it?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you, Sakamoto, so you can step aside. I’m here to talk to Kurusu-kun in regards to his probation.” The girl blatantly side-stepped Ryuji to step closer to Akira and bow her head, “My name is Kobayashi Mitsuki and I’ve heard of your probation. It makes me curious, and I have a feeling there is more to it than meets the eye. If you’d indulge me and exchange contact information so that we can discuss this matter further.” She took out her phone and stared expectantly at Akira until Akira caved in under the weight of her stare and gave her his number.

She smiled at him and bade him farewell before she walked away, gait imposing and basically carving her way through the crowd.

“What the hell was that about?” Ryuji scowled at the girl’s back, and Morgana popped his head through an opening in Akira’s bag.

“Whatever it is that she wants, we should have her off our backs; it wouldn’t do to have her sniffing around and finding some incriminating evidence against us.”

“Hey.” Ryuji lowered his voice, “Do you think miss Prez sent her?”

Akira hummed in consideration, “Kobayashi is certainly as obvious in trying to sniff information about us as Niijima is, but I don’t think so.”

“So, you think Kobayashi has her own agenda?” Morgana questioned.

“That’s for sure.”

“Well.” Ryuji grinned widely with too much teeth, “If she asks you for a meet-up you know I’ll be there to keep an eye out, right?”

“And Lady Ann and Yusuke,” Morgana interjected, “We need to tell them as well so that they could keep an eye out for Kobayashi.”

Akira nodded, “And we’ll discuss this matter further later, when we’re somewhere more private.”

.

“A date?” Ann frowned down at Ryuji, who was crouched behind a corner and observing both Kobayashi and Akira, who were sitting at an outside table at a café.

“Akira didn’t say that it was a date though,” Ryuji whispered, narrowing his eyes at Kobayashi, who was practically beaming at Akira.

“Did you get a chance to see what the messages Kobayashi sent to our leader entailed, Morgana?” Yusuke inquired.

Morgana shook his head, “No, I didn’t. Unfortunately, I didn’t pay the messages a lot of attention at the time because he’d been messaging Mishima before he told me about the meet-ups. So I assume she messaged him right after and I didn’t notice. Akira didn’t seem to react.”

“Well, it’s not like Akira outwardly reacts to a lot of things in the first place.” Ryuji shrugged.

“I know!” Morgana whined, “But one would think something like a shady meeting would… Wait never mind, it wouldn’t.” Morgana sighed.

“It’s okay, Morgana.” Ann ran a comforting hand down Morgana’s back, “It’s not like you knew you had to keep constant watch on Akira. Besides, he’s our friend, and the reason we’re doing this is because we’re worried about him and wary of Kobayashi, not because we want to keep Akira under surveillance.”

Yusuke nodded, “That’s not a misunderstanding we want to happen between us and Akira. So we’ll merely keep observing from a distance just in case Akira needs back-up.”

Morgana’s shoulders sagged, “Thanks Lady Ann, Yusuke.”

“But if they’re not going on a date, why is Kobayashi dressed like it?” Ryuji wondered.

As one, the other three turned their attention to the duo sitting a few meters away and focused on Kobayashi; as Ryuji said, she was dressed like she was going on a date- make-up on point, hair curled, bracelets adorning her hands, with a cute, pink dress dotted with hearts at the shoulders, white tights, and pink high-heels decorated with ribbons.

“She’s certainly all dolled up for this,” Ann murmured.

“Time to implement our plan to listen in,” Yusuke said, and Ryuji gave him a thumbs up before getting his phone out and muting it, and then Ann took out her own phone and called Ryuji’s while Yusuke brought out a belt from his bag. Ryuji answered the call, and he and Yusuke busied themselves with securing the phone to Morgana’s body using the belt.

“Ready?” Ryuji whispered, and Morgana’s eyes glinted mischievously back at him, causing him to grin widely.

“I was born ready.”

Ann muffled a snicker behind her hand, “Phantom Thieves, go~”

With that, Morgana sneakily made his way to the pair and hid in the shade of a bush conveniently situated behind Akira’s seat.

At their hiding spot, the rest of the Thieves huddled around Ann’s phone and attentively listened to what they could hear filtering through the speaker, volume cranked up high enough so that they could hear but not too loud to attract more attention that they did.

“Once more, I’m glad you could come and meet me.” Kobayashi’s voice came through the speaker, and the Thieves bumped their fists in the air before they continued listening while peeking from their hiding spot to catch the visual cues of the conversation.

Akira shrugged, “You sounded like you were going to insist anyway.”

Kobayashi smiled demurely and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she readjusted her posture to something more elegant and refined. “You’re embarrassing me, Kurusu-kun. Now, as for what I wanted to talk to you about-“

“You’re tall,” Akira interrupted her, and the Thieves shared a quick look; that was certainly more high-key than they expected from Akira, “You shouldn’t be wearing such high heels. One inch heels are already pushing it, flats are your best choice.”

Silence.

Ann’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and she gaped, “He said what?” She hissed. Even Ryuji looked alarmed.

“That’s…” Yusuke was stunned, “That’s… I don’t think I…”

Kobayashi looked two seconds away from flipping the table in Akira’s face, “Excuse yo-!”

Akira interrupted her again, “You want to blend in, your choice in attire says so. But you’re tall, and adding to that height with high heels only attracts attention, and attention means someone with a good eye could pinpoint more details about your appearance. That’s not what you want, right? That’s why you approached me the way you did the other day. And there is a reason why you haven’t approached me before even though I’ve been attending Shujin for more than two months already.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say this much in one go before.” Ann breathed out in shock.

Kobayashi’s eyes had been widening with very word Akira had said, and she put a hand to her mouth and then ducked her head. The Thieves observed in worry, wondering how she was going to react.

The Thieves were once again surprised when Kobayashi threw her head back and chuckled heartily, even Akira seemed stunned momentarily.

Kobayashi looked back at Akira with a smirk on her face, “You surprise me yet again, Kurusu-kun. Who would have thought you’d see through me so easily? But ah… this type of advice. You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Frequently enough to know what to look out for?”

Akira merely shrugged in response.

Kobayashi coughed into her hand, genuine amusement still seeming to radiate off of her, “That means you won’t be opposed to future meetings?”

“What you wanted to talk to me about was-“

“Your probation.” Kobayashi leaned forward with her chin propped on the back of her hand, “I couldn’t resist looking, and found some interesting tidbits.”

“I don’t think there are any details to be of use.”

“Oh, but that in and of itself is quite telling. And that is what I want to talk to you about.”

.

The Thieves quietly retreated from their hiding spot along with Morgana who had rejoined them when Kobayashi continued to discuss Akira’s probation with him and the duo’s conversation headed into more professional and serious territories, and headed for a different corner to discuss the situation.

“What do you think?” Ann started, and Morgana frowned.

“There is something about that Kobayashi, more than we first expected. She’s truly interested in discussing Akira’s probation with him.”

“She knows quite a lot,” Yusuke mused, “I assume the details we heard her say aren’t ones just anyone could find without access to the files or hearing about the story from one of the involved parties.”

“So you think she’s involved with the police like that Akechi?” Ryuji scratched his head, “Come to think of it, she actually looks like him, doesn’t she?”

Ann’s eyes widened, “You’re right. The hair, eyes, and general appearance do resemble Akechi’s.”

“You think she’s his sister?” Morgana asked.

“Hmm.” Yusuke cocked his head to the side, “How much information do you think is available online and is there a way to confirm this hypothesis?”

“But man, the sister of someone that famous?” Ryuji looked thoughtful, “She’d want to hide, wouldn’t she? Maybe that’s why she’s dressed up like this?”

“You think Akira knew?” Ann cocked her hip to the side, propping a fist on it, “The conversation would make more sense then, wouldn’t it?”

“You think she heard about Akira from Akechi?” Morgana cocked his head to the side, “Akechi did seem like he was interested in Akira; he approached him at the train station more than once already to make small talk of all things.”

“Wouldn’t someone like him be too busy to make such a detour? And for small talk no less?” Yusuke interjected.

“Maybe Kobayashi is just looking out for her brother?” Ann suggested.

“Why would they have different surnames though?”

“Divorced parents?” Ryuji awkwardly shrugged, “Or maybe to stay under the radar?”

“You have a point.” Morgana’s tail swished behind him as he appeared to be deep in thought.

“Well then.” Yusuke straightened from his spot leaning against the wall, “All we have left is to wait for Akira to be done and then tell him.”

“Alright.” The rest chorused.

.

When Akira finally parted ways with Kobayashi, the rest of the Thieves were understandably waiting for him, not that he seemed surprised with their presence.

“So, how did it go?” Ann was the first to reach him, grasping his arm in a very tight hold.

“I’d say it went well,” Akira responded, looking worriedly down at where Ann was clutching him, “There could have been more embarrassment and potential blackmail threats involved but thankfully… Kobayashi was more understanding than I expected.”

“And that means?” Morgana prompted.

“We’re going to meet up again to continue the discussion,” Akira said and Morgana sighed.

“You know, I’m not even surprised at this point.”

Ryuji snickered and Yusuke chuckled.

“That’s great and all.” Ann smiled sweetly at him, “But we need to have a long, serious talk about tall girls in high heels. I raised you better than that.” She practically hissed, her eyes narrowing at him as they metaphorically spat out lava.

Akira raised a hand defensively, “I know!” He looked like he wanted to bolt but still held his grounds, “Tall girls in high heels are goddesses, tall girls get to wear high heels if they want to! I just-“

“Hmm?” Ann’s hold tightened, “Go on.”

“Really needed to tell Kobayashi about wearing heels and visibility...”

“That’s what you said about being noticed?” Ann’s hold eased up only slightly.

“Yes!” Akira nodded frantically, “Kobayashi really wanted to lay low; noticeable height would be counter-productive!”

Ann let him go, “Alright. I’ll let this one go.”

Akira sighed in relief.

“But don’t think I will a second time.”

Akira stiffened.

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