Chương 122: The "Second" Change of Heart.
As the people of Japan moved through the bustling streets, immersed in their daily routines, the massive screen on the side of a building flickered. The usual advertisements faded, replaced by a live broadcast from one of the nation's prominent news stations. In the frame sat the once-revered artist, Ichiryusai Madarame, hunched slightly, surrounded by a sea of microphones. His face was pale, his eyes hollow as if he hadn't slept in days.
For a second, he stared directly into the camera, his lips trembling as he gathered himself. The city's hum seemed to soften as passersby stopped to glance at the screen.
"I called everyone here to admit to my crimes." Madarame began, his voice shaky. He paused to steady himself, inhaling deeply. "But most importantly, to apologize."
Countless camera flashes lit up the room on-screen, briefly illuminating his gaunt expression. He clenched his fists tightly, as if physically holding himself together, before continuing.
"Recently, I revealed a new piece of art to the public. A painting I called Humanity. It has been praised widely, displayed in one of my museums as part of the legacy following the Sayuri." He swallowed hard, his voice faltering. "But that painting… I stole it."
Madarame's eyes brimmed with tears, one sliding down his cheek as he continued.
"That painting was the work of none other than Yusuke Kitagawa, my student." His voice cracked, the raw emotion cutting through the mechanical calm of the broadcast. "It was the culmination of his dreams and desires, and I took it as my own without remorse. I forced him to stay silent, exploiting his loyalty, his trust. And because of my actions, I drove him away."
Madarame's tears fell freely now, his carefully composed demeanor crumbling into full-blown, ugly crying. His shoulders shook as he shouted into the microphones.
"But it wasn't just him! All of my students, all of them, I stole from them! Their talents, their dreams, their futures! Even the Sayuri, my most treasured piece, is something I took." His voice grew hoarse as he pushed on. "And I didn't stop there. I desecrated its memory by creating countless forgeries, selling them for profit, tarnishing the beauty it once held."
Countless camera flashes brightened up the room in which Madarame was giving his interview. Yet that didn't stop him from continuing.
"I have tainted this country's art world… I have hurt those who trusted me… I…" His voice broke entirely as he slumped forward, gripping the edge of the podium for support. "I have committed crimes that are unforgivable."
The city's rhythm barely wavered. Onlookers who had initially paused out of curiosity soon resumed their pace, their expressions passive or amused. A man in a suit snickered as he turned to his friend.
"Damn, that dude's really crying. What's next? Think he'll pull out a ukulele and serenade us?" He said with a chuckle.
Nearby, a woman laughed as she pointed to the screen.
"Maybe he's lost it. I mean, with all those paint fumes, who wouldn't?"
Above them, the screen transitioned to a news anchor who began summarizing Madarame's confession.
[As you can see, Ichiryusai Madarame has publicly admitted to his crimes, including the theft and plagiarism of numerous works created by his students. Reports suggest that his most famous painting, The Sayuri, was also a stolen piece, replicated for profit…]
The anchor's voice droned on, but the world around her moved forward. People chuckled, rolled their eyes, and dismissed the news as the desperate ramblings of a disgraced old man. By tomorrow, it would be a passing headline. In a week, it would be forgotten altogether.
In the end, who really cared? If it didn't hurt them, or if it wasn't related to them, then they wouldn't bother with the news. At least not if it wasn't entertaining to them.
But just as the city began to move on, the screen abruptly turned a vibrant, unrelenting crimson. The striking color halted pedestrians mid-step, their heads snapping up in surprise.
The crowd stilled as bold white text appeared on the screen.
[Missed us?]
Before anyone could react, a cartoonish caricature of a grinning cat materialized, its tail flicking mischievously. It darted across the crimson background, chasing a small blue butterfly across the screen before vanishing.
Gasps and murmurs filled the air as the crowd watched the screen with growing intensity.
Suddenly, the words shifted.
[Confessions of the corrupt are not enough. Justice is incomplete without accountability. When we raided Kaneshiro's crime empire, we found clues leading to Madarame.
So, as an appetizer to you, our dear people of Japan, we offer you his confession. Something to warm your appetite for the things to come.
We hope that you are enjoying the show.]
The screen flickered again, revealing countless requests from the Phantom Thieves' website, scrolling rapidly like an endless cascade. Corrupt bosses, ruthless stalkers, violent criminals, abusive family members, the wrongs of society flashed before the crowd's eyes in a mesmerizing blur.
[Though, our announcement also comes with another purpose. We wanted to thank you, the people of Japan, for allowing us to help you. It's our duty as the Phantom Thieves to bring justice to those the world has abandoned. To those scared to step forward.]
The crowd's whispers turned into murmurs of approval. Phones were raised, recording the broadcast as it continued to unfold. The display shifted again, this time to a series of interviews. The first was a group of excited students, their faces alight with admiration.
"They're amazing!" One of them declared, grinning into the camera. "Finally, someone's doing something about all the crap we deal with!"
The footage transitioned to an older businessman, his expression sober but supportive.
"They're unconventional, sure. But they're addressing what the authorities won't. That's more than I can say for most."
A young woman appeared next, clutching a notebook close to her chest. "They gave me hope. I… I thought no one would listen. But they did."
The screen cycled through more voices, office workers, parents, and students, all expressing gratitude and solidarity with the Phantom Thieves. Their words painted a picture of a nation grappling with injustice but finding a glimmer of hope in the mysterious group.
[However, now it is our time to ask you, the people, for a favor. It's something quite simple. The only request we have is to remember us and our message.
When you see injustice, whenever you feel lost, we ask you to remember us. To forever keep us in your mind. And when the time comes when Japan fails you. When everyone else is ignoring your voice, we ask you only one thing.
To place your trust in the Phantom Thieves. To welcome us with open arms, just as we have welcomed your voices.]
Then, the screen changed one more time, showcasing the logo of the Phantom Thieves.
Then the screen glitched, static briefly crackling before a whimsical animation began to play. A cartoonish thief appeared, dressed in a playful caricature of the Thieves' attire. They tiptoed toward a high-tech security door, only to be met with a glaring crimson X flashing across the screen.
The thief paused, scratching their head in exaggerated confusion before their eyes lit up with realization. Pulling a small card adorned with the Phantom Thieves' logo from their pocket, they placed it on the security panel. A moment of tense anticipation followed, then the crimson X flickered into a bright green checkmark, the door sliding open with a cheerful chime.
As the thief slipped inside, they froze in their tracks, the animation zooming out to reveal rows of armed guards and police officers waiting with batons drawn. The tension rose, but the thief's face broke into a bright, mischievous grin. Reaching into their bag, they tossed a handful of yen bills into the air.
The money fluttered down like confetti, and the guards immediately descended into chaos. One officer's eyes flashed with cartoonish yen symbols, and he turned on his comrades, swinging his baton wildly in a fit of greed. The guards quickly devolved into a brawl, allowing the thief to slip through unnoticed.
The camera followed the thief as they navigated deeper into the building, their every movement marked by playful flair. Turning a corner, they nearly stumbled over a sleek black cat calmly grooming itself in the middle of the hallway.
The thief paused, tilting their head as the cat glanced up at them with a knowing look. After a beat, the cat exploded into a cloud of smoke. In an instant, the cat became a human, their outfit revealing them as another thief. The newly transformed figure smirked at the first thief, tipping their hat.
Then, the video on the screens began to glitch before turning bright crimson once again with the logo of the Thieves.
Unlike the first two times, the video didn't get to play in a loop. Instead, the screens all quickly swapped to emergency broadcasts. However, every few minutes, the news would be replaced by the Thieves logo with a crimson background. Almost as if the news were fighting back with the announcement, pushing back and forth for a moment in the spotlight.
"What the hell was up with that animation?" Some random pedestrians muttered to themselves as they began to walk.
"I dunno, but I liked it. It's gotta have some deeper message." A random person answered.
"Nah, it was silly as hell. They make some cool ass announcement, and then they gotta ruin it with some stupid video." A student muttered. "Like, I can't be the only one that thinks it's weird, right?"
"No, no, you're missing the point. I bet there is a hidden message encrypted into the video. It's a red herring! I bet if we run it through some programs, we might be able to find something new." A Shujin student with blue hair said excitedly.
"Ooooh, maybe they are recruiting!" Another answered. "What do you think? It could be a test!"
"Ya'll are overthinking this way too much." An older businessman interrupted. "It's clear that the more important part was their last message. They are planning something big. Hell, maybe they are finally gonna target my boss. I put in a request a few weeks back, but nothing happened."
"Dude, get away from us, you creep." A young girl wearing a uniform said, earning a round of giggles from the other students as they all ran away.
— — —
In one of the tallest skyscrapers in Japan, the top floor housed a man who was accustomed to overseeing an empire. Kunikazu Okumura sat in his plush leather chair, his tailored suit impeccable, his posture rigid. But his usual air of authority was tinged with unease. His eyes fixated on the city below, the countless billboards and screens all glowing with the same ominous crimson hue.
The message of the Phantom Thieves had been everywhere, echoing in the minds of the public. Okumura wasn't the type to trouble himself with small, fleeting disruptions. He had far too much on his plate to be distracted by a band of vigilantes.
Or at least, that had been his belief.
"Kaneshiro, and now Madarame…" He muttered under his breath, turning his chair away from the window to face the vast, meticulously organized desk. He reached for his phone, his fingers hesitating for a moment before dialing. The line rang, and though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he realized he was holding his breath.
After several tense seconds, the call connected. A distorted voice answered, its tone calm but cold.
"Yes?"
Okumura exhaled softly, a wave of relief washing over him before his face steeled once more. This was the Black Mask, the enforcer whose identity was hidden even from him. Despite his powerful connections and the resources at his disposal, the true identity of the Black Mask remained a mystery. Not that it mattered; all that mattered was the results this hired killer could deliver.
"Hello. I was contacting you to ask some questions," Okumura began, his voice formal but laced with an edge of tension. As he spoke, his free hand tapped rhythmically against the desk. "I'm sure you've seen the news, haven't you?"
"They are hard to miss." The distorted voice replied dryly. "Is that all you called for?"
Okumura's frown deepened at the dismissive tone. But years of calculated diplomacy kept him composed. He understood the delicate power dynamic at play. Okumura might be issuing orders, the one pointing the weapon. However, it was the Black Mask who pulled the trigger.
If he messed with him, his own gun could just as easily turn it against him.
"It appears we are being targeted." Okumura said, his voice measured but tense. "One incident could be dismissed as coincidence. Two begins to form a pattern. It's only a matter of time before the Phantom Thieves turn their attention to more… significant individuals."
There was a slight pause on the other end before the voice responded, utterly unfazed.
"We have the situation under control. I am monitoring all major figures. They will not be able to act without me discovering them. Once I do, I will eliminate them."
Okumura leaned back in his chair, his fingers ceasing their tapping. He didn't find the assurance entirely comforting.
"So…" He pressed cautiously, "you don't have any actionable information on them yet?"
The Black Mask sighed audibly, a sharp sound that made Okumura's frown return. The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably long. Okumura opened his mouth to speak again, but the distorted voice cut him off.
"Don't waste my time with useless calls." The Black Mask snapped, the cold edge of irritation seeping into the mechanical distortion. "You know the procedure. You are only to contact me when you have the names of my targets. Do not call me for anything else."
Before Okumura could respond, the call abruptly disconnected, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. He stared at the phone in his hand, his jaw tightening before he slipped the device back into his desk drawer.
Standing, Okumura walked back to the massive windows overlooking the city. The crimson glow from the billboards still lingered, a bold reminder of the Thieves' growing presence. His reflection stared back at him from the glass, his own features betraying a flicker of doubt he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.
Turning back to his desk, his eyes fell on an ornate envelope. Picking it up, he read the name aloud, his voice soft but tinged with intrigue.
"Asa Fujimoto…" He murmured, a smile creeping onto his face. "Welcome."
Sliding the invitation into his jacket pocket, he straightened his tie and cast one final glance at the billboards.
— — —
Inside a small apartment, a young fortune teller hummed to herself. She was working on one of her hobbies, making small trinkets and charms such as dream catchers. At the moment, she was working on some simple good luck bracelets.
Her house was decorated with countless incense and herbs, all meant to ward off evil spirits and bad luck. To her delight, the lavender she hung on her windows did tend to attract their fair share of insects, from butterflies to bees.
After finishing with her small good luck charm, she let out a satisfied smile, placing it to the side as she pulled out a deck of cards. She always did a reading on herself before heading to work. That way, she would be prepared for any misfortune that might come her way.
She had actually saved herself in the past thanks to her own readings and, of course, thanks to her Holy Stones.
The smile on her face dropped as she thought about the Holy Stones. Walking over, she glanced at it for a few moments before shaking her head.
"What am I thinking…." She muttered to herself as she shook away the thoughts of licking it. That would be disgusting. And even if it were to taste like salt, then so what? Maybe that's just what Holy Stones taste like.
Or at least that's just what she kept telling herself. She had sold countless Holy Stones. If they weren't really Holy then….
She shook her head again as she sat back down on her desk, looking at the cards in her hand.
"I wonder what that annoying student of mine is up to…" She muttered as she took out her cards. "Well, nothing wrong with doing a little reading. Just have to make sure he isn't getting in trouble."
Taking a few minutes to herself, she began to place down the cards, following her instinct as she began to work her magic. Then, after a few moments, she flipped the first card of the five card spread.
Chihaya sighed, her eyebrows curling into a slight frown as she studied the ominous imagery of The Tower. Crumbling stones, darkened skies, and figures falling into the unknown.
"Upheaval and chaos are necessary for growth." She repeated to herself, as if trying to reassure her own lingering doubts. "But that doesn't mean it's pleasant…"
She placed her fingers delicately on the second card, inhaling softly before turning it over.
"The Devil…"
A cold chill ran down her spine, her frown deepening as she examined the card. Chains, temptation, a figure shrouded in shadows.
"Oh no. That's… not good." Chihaya muttered, tensing. "It's the card of bondage and temptation. Something… or someone… is going to lure you in. Whether it's power, control, or material desires, it's going to pull you into a dangerous situation."
Her brow furrowed. She suddenly thought of Ren, her annoying student, with his confident smirk and carefree attitude.
"Don't get cocky out there… trouble will find you before you find it." She mumbled quietly as if he could hear her.
Shaking off the foreboding sense of unease, she tapped the next card.
"The Hanged Man…"
The fortune teller paused, lips parting as she tilted her head slightly. A card of suspension, sacrifice, and seeing the world through a new perspective. Chihaya studied it for a long moment, nodding to herself.
"It's a moment of pause… one that asks you to give something up. Sacrifice for the greater good… or to free yourself." She whispered. "And I have a feeling that someone close to you will have to make that choice, whether they want to or not."
For a moment, her eyes softened as her thoughts began to drift. Then, determined to see this through, she moved to the fourth card. Her chest tightened as her hand hovered for a brief second before flipping it.
"Justice."
Chihaya's eyes glimmered in the low light of her apartment. For the first time since she started the reading, a small smile returned to her face.
"Ah, Justice… truth and fairness will come to light." She murmured. "The scales are tipping, but whose side they'll fall on depends on the choices made along the way."
Her gaze lingered on the sword depicted on the card. This wasn't a peaceful justice; it was sharp and decisive. For Ren and those around him, a reckoning was coming.
"And yet… there's still hope." She breathed, almost to herself, before her fingers found the final card.
She hesitated for just a moment longer as if anticipating the culmination of the reading. Then, with steady hands, she turned it over.
"Judgment…"
Chihaya's eyes widened slightly, her breath catching. The card gleamed under the soft glow of her desk lamp, angels heralding a call, souls rising in transformation.
"Judgment… an awakening." She whispered, her voice steady despite the intensity of the card. "The moment where past choices are laid bare, and the truth demands to be faced. It's a call to act, to move forward, reborn from the trials you've endured."
She looked at the five cards in front of her for a few moments before letting out a soft chuckle.
"My student sure lives an interesting life…" Standing up, she looked at the clock before starting to prepare herself to go out. "I'll bring a few extra good luck charms in case he shows up today."
Then, as she went to get dressed to go out and turned on the TV, she was greeted by a crimson screen and a logo.
"Again?" She muttered to herself, letting the announcement play in the background.
— — —
Sitting in a cramped room lined with towering stacks of research papers, a man in a wrinkled shirt leaned back in his chair, slurping at a cup of instant ramen. His glasses reflected the flickering glow of the TV in front of him, tuned to a news report about the Phantom Thieves. The crimson logo lingered on the screen, and his eyes sparked with something between recognition and revelation.
Dr. Takuto Maruki placed his ramen cup on the cluttered desk, his hands trembling slightly as the pieces clicked into place in his mind. The seemingly useless cartoonish animation that played at the end was the final push he needed.
"This… this changes everything." He muttered to himself, his voice breathless with realization.
Almost as if possessed, Maruki grabbed a marker and began scrawling on the nearest whiteboard. Equations, theories, and fragmented thoughts poured from his mind, spilling out onto the glossy surface in a frenetic barrage of ideas. His usually neat handwriting devolved into frantic scribbles as his thoughts raced ahead of his hands.
Darting between the whiteboard and his desk, he grabbed a notebook and began jotting down more notes, flipping pages faster than he could fill them. His computer chimed as he booted up several files, spreadsheets, and diagrams, the soft glow of the monitor illuminating his focused expression. Sticky notes were slapped onto walls, bookshelves, and even his fridge as he worked, his mind leaping from one connection to the next.
The once-pristine apartment became an explosion of chaos. Papers scattered across the floor, and half-empty pens rolled off the desk as he grabbed another without missing a beat.
"So it really wasn't just a coincidence." Maruki muttered, his eyes darting between his notes and the flashing images on the TV. His voice grew more animated as he spoke aloud, piecing his thoughts together. "Their actions… their message… it's aligning perfectly with cognitive theory. Collective belief shaping reality. Yes, this could be it. This has to be it!"
He paused for a moment, staring at the notes sprawled across the whiteboard, his breath coming in shallow bursts. Then, with renewed vigor, he erased part of the board and rewrote it, refining his ideas further. His mind was a storm, each revelation sparking another layer of insight.
For hours, Maruki moved with a singular focus, shuffling between the whiteboard, his computer, and the mess of notes scattered across every surface. He was a man on the brink of something monumental, and though exhaustion tugged at the edges of his awareness, he refused to stop.
Finally, he stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow as he surveyed the chaotic room. His heart pounded, and his chest tightened, not from exhaustion but from exhilaration.
"If this works…" He whispered, his voice tinged with both awe and trepidation. "I might be able to— no, I will be able to change everything."
Maruki glanced back at the TV screen, where the crimson Phantom Thieves logo had faded into a news anchor's report.
"Thank you… for showing me what's possible."
~A/N~
Yo! Sorry for the delay. That Tarot reading took me longer than I expected. Also, I was being lazy and playing Marvel Rivals, which happens lol.
Also, this was a big chap, not in terms of length, but setup. So took me a bit longer cuz of that.
Anyways, as for the Tarot reading, that's just the reading for this arc lol, not the entire story. Lots of stuff gonna happen, and I want to hear your theories. Though I will admit, I was a bit cheeky and did some things to try to throw you guys off from what will really happen while still keeping it 100% accurate. Gotta remember, this was just Chihaya's interpretation of the cards, and she doesn't have the full picture.
Anyways, see ya all hopefully soon. Drop some comments to feed me motivation! See ya!
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