Feel free to investigate these Phantom Thieves and mental shutdowns, her director had said. As long as you complete your other work. The pile on Sae's desk seemed to grow higher with every passing day as one "urgent matter" after another was dropped into her lap. Even carving out time to work on the Joichi case—what she considered the most significant of her nominal duties—was proving difficult with the endless stream of misappropriated office supplies and diplomatic parking tickets. She was beginning to feel like Cinderella picking lentils out of the ashes. And that someone didn't want her to go to the metaphorical ball. She needed more time, more energy. A way to do more than cobble together stolen moments to examine coroner's reports that she wasn't supposed to have.

Hidemi Iko had been a junior investigator in the Financial Services Agency, assigned to the High Wealth Individuals Group, responsible for poring over the tax returns of Tokyo's richest. She had been a classmate of Sae's at university, though Sae remember her only vaguely as an eager, methodical student of no particular brilliance. The official cause of death was a stroke from overwork. It happened sometimes, to people their age, but Iko's medical records showed nothing more serious than teenage acne before her death. People did not just drop dead. Sae's chest tightened. At least she hoped they didn't.

She closed the file and sent an email to Iko's supervisor, asking what cases she had been working on. It was her job to prosecute tax evasion, after all. And the very richest certainly would have motive and means to be the ones behind the shutdowns, even if I don't know how they're doing it. She frowned. Once upon a time, she would have thought this sort of case would have brought down the wrath of the entire legal system. The powerful crushing a civil servant who only wished to do her duty. What could be more unjust?

Sae knew better now. Her colleagues pursued safe cases rather than risk stepping on the toes of those who could ruin them. But...but if she could crack this case, bring those behind the mental shutdowns to heel... It wouldn't matter that she was a woman or sickly or anything else. She could write her own ticket, hers and Makoto's, and force those assholes to dance to her tune. Maybe then Makoto would forgive her. All she had to do was win.

Two prosecutors who were even younger than her walked by. "Fifty thousand says the Phantom Thieves take Medjed down."

"No way. All that 'change of heart' stuff is just fancy blackmail. And it's Medjed! Big, international organization!"

Sae suppressed a groan. "You do know that you're betting on criminals?"

They stopped and looked as if noticing her for the first time. "It's exciting. Don't be such a killjoy, Niijima."

Pressure built behind Sae's eyes. "It's cyberterrorists versus a bunch of glory hounds who may be connected to the mental shutdowns and episodes of psychosis. Our job is to catch them."

"Your crusade, not our jobs. Learn to have fun a little."

His friend nudged him on the shoulder. "Forget it. Niijima is allergic to fun." They walked away.

Sae ran her hands through her hair. The world was going mad. Justice was a joke, she had discovered that after her father died. Very well. But she and every other prosecutor still had a job to do and that job couldn't be outsourced to a pack of vigilantes or the mob. If worship of these Phantom Thieves was infecting the office, they had a problem almost as big as the shutdowns. It would be chaos. And that was in a best case scenario where these thieves had no ulterior motives and Akechi was wrong.

Of course he's right, set the smooth voice in her ear. Everybody wants something. The Phantom Thieves are no different than Joichi or any other swindler.

Exactly. Sae just had to find them and make them—

Her phone buzzed with a text message from Kurusu of all people. Are we still on for this evening?

Sae exhaled. She had almost allowed herself to forget her other side project. Photography. Maybe she was going a bit insane. Who had time for art when there were terrorists and murderers and tax cheats running around? But she had promised, even dug a camera out of the closet. She closed her eyes. If she was ever going to prove she was more than the harpy who lashed out at her own sister, she had to see this through. Yes. Where and when? Do I need to bring anything?

Outside Leblanc's fine. Six o'clock? Just bring your phone.

My phone?

It has a camera function, right? Nevermind. I'll explain when you get here.

That settled it. Kurusu had presented her with a mystery, however slight, and Sae had never been able to leave a mystery unsolved. Some of the day's anger and irritation ebbed away, and Sae tackled her busywork with methodical diligence until it was time to leave, double-checked that both phone and digital camera were in her bag, and headed toward Yongen and Kurusu.

The train deposited her a few blocks from the café. Despite the heat, Sae pulled her blazer more tightly around her shoulders. The neighborhood had seen better days, thirty years of slow economic rot showing in the dingy streets and shuttered shops. There were rumors of delinquents and darker things that roamed the streets after closing time. Officially denied, of course. Tokyo was the safest city in the world. And they were only the poor.

Kurusu was waiting for her in front of the café as promised, his hands shoved in his pockets. He was still slouching, but his expression was the furthest thing from blank. His brow was furrowed and his teeth clenched, and the circles under his eyes were visible even behind his glasses. His eyes were dark as storm clouds, and it occurred to Sae that he was technically a delinquent as well. Not a very dangerous one to have almost no restrictions on his probation that she could detect, but the quiet boy and the photographer were not all that he was.

He noticed her and twisted his grimace into a smile as he bowed. "Ms. Niijima. Glad you could make it."

She bowed in return. "A bargain is a bargain." Kurusu didn't look good at all. Not injured, but unwell and quietly angry. What happened to you? was on her lips but Sae thought better of it. They were engaging in a transaction, and Kurusu despised her, even if he was willing to help her. So Sae said, "What now?"

"We start with the most basic of basics. What do you want?"

Sae blinked. "Excuse me?"

He flushed a little despite his pallor, and it softened some of the sharp edges. "Sorry. That was how my teacher back home put it. I mean: what kind of picture do you want to take to start?"

"How should I—" Sae stopped as memory intruded. She, Dad, and Makoto sharing a rare day out when Destinyland had reopened from renovation and Dad had shoved the camera in her hands as he and Makoto has put on the silly hats with the ears while Makoto had protested without much enthusiasm that she was too old. Even then, the yakuza had been circling for him, but he had made her believe they would all be safe and happy. "Portraits," she said with a catch in her voice that she hoped Kurusu didn't notice.

He tensed almost imperceptibly, and Sae knew that he had noticed, but his voice was light. "Portraits it is. But the first trick I'm going to teach you is something you can use for anything. You want to create as much tension, energy, and excitement as you can. Really make things pop."

"It's a photograph, not a movie," Sae muttered. "Not a lot of energy in something that can't move." He had promised that he could teach anyone, but he was already talking like an artist, long on metaphor and short on anything practical.

The grimace was back and Kurusu muttered something under his breath that Sae assumed she should be grateful that she didn't understand. "Right. What I mean is that there are basic tricks you can use to draw the eye of the viewer and keep their interest. Doesn't matter what your subject is or what the photograph is supposed to mean if people won't look at the thing. And the first way we do that is by obeying the rule of thirds. If you could take out your phone?"

Sae did and watched as he did the same. Kurusu's phone was as battered as the neighborhood and several years out of date. Not something most teenagers would use if they had a choice. But again, not her business. He closed the distance between them, and Sae moved so he could look over her shoulder. His aftershave was light, thank goodness, cold and crisp and almost too mature for him. "May I?"

Sae shrugged. His callused hands brushed against hers ever so lightly as he took her phone from her and pressed a button. She wondered how a photographer got hands like that: squat and strong and roughened. Kurusu wasn't built like Kitagawa either; he was a bit on the short side but with the barest hint of muscle visible. More small mysteries.

A three-by-three grid appeared on screen. "I'll spare you the history and theory, but you draw the eye better if you put the important elements in your photo at the intersection of these lines here. Dead center just unnerves people." He stepped back and tried another small smile. "Your first assignment is to take a few shots of me using the grid here."

Simple enough. They stepped out of the way of a few oncoming pedestrians and Kurusu took his place just to the right of Leblanc's entrance. He put his hands back in his pockets and slouched against the window. "Whenever you're ready."

Sae pursed her lips. She might have no knowledge of theory or art, but even she knew that a man who was doing everything he could to vanish couldn't make a good picture. His anger was better than this. "This would be easier if you would stand up straight. And free your hands. I want to see you."

Kurusu peered at her and for a moment something crossed his face that Sae had no name for, but was as lost and pained as an animal caught in a trap. What had happened to him? And this time it was no mere mystery. She needed to know like she needed to know who was behind the mental shutdowns and where the Thieves would strike next and how she was ever going to find the words to apologize to Makoto.

He took a deep breath, removed his hands from his pockets, and stood up straight and it was like the sun peeking through the clouds after a rainstorm. There was authority in him, and he drew the gaze like those minds of his were supposed to. It wasn't that he was handsome, though Sae supposed he was, but simply that all the mysteries and confidence swirled together to suggest someone who had a story and knew it.

"This good?"

Sae blinked. She must be overtired to be woolgathering like this. "It's fine." She lined up the grid as he had instructed and took the photograph. It didn't feel very artistic or even much of a challenge. She held up the phone so he could see. "Like this?"

He studied the phone, and Sae tensed. It was only staying within the lines—a child could have done it—but she felt as if she were eighteen again and waiting for the results of her entrance exams. But Kurusu nodded and smiled at her, a soft, warm smile. "Good. Now do it again."

She did, lining him up in the grid again and again until it felt even less like art and more like painting by numbers. You didn't get to be a decent prosecutor without a tolerance for monotony, but after fifteen minutes of the grid and his gentle praise, Sae was tired of the crutches. "I want to try with a real camera. Without the grid function."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think you're ready?"

"I think I dug this camera out of the closet for a reason, and that I need to learn to do this the way you do."

Kurusu nodded. "Just try to keep the grid in your head. It'll be second nature before you know it."

Sae fished the digital camera out of her bag. It felt awkward in her hands. She probably hadn't taken a picture since her father had died. She put a finger on the shutter release. Try to visualize the grid. She drew the lines in her mind's eye, but Kurusu's nervous face and white shirt were an expanse that seemed to go on forever. Had the lines intersected at his hair or his glasses? Did it matter? Better to commit and fix it later than dither forever. She hit the button.

Kurusu trotted over and they looked at the results. He frowned. "A little to the left, I think. Right now, the first thing I look at is the door."

Sae gritted her teeth and tried again. She wasn't sure how many photographs she took, but it wasn't long until she was fighting the urge to throw the camera to the pavement. It was no different than coloring between the lines! She'd been first in her class at high school, gone to a national university, passed the bar on the first try. What kind of prosecutor couldn't get this right?

A heartless one, perhaps, without even the human feeling to take a picture properly?

Sae growled.

"None of that." For the first time that day, there was real steel in Kurusu's voice. "You're doing really well for your first day. No need to be frustrated."

"I can't draw a grid in my head. There's plenty of need to be frustrated." Her fist clenched. "A prosecutor who failed so spectacularly would be fired on the spot."

"Well, then the prosecutors office is full of idiots." There was more than steel behind his words now, real fire that made his voice rise despite the pedestrians going about their business. "Do you know how long it took me to take something besides crap pictures? A year, practicing every day. I used to practice judo before...well it doesn't matter now. First thing my sensei taught me was how to fall, because he knew I was going to spend a lot of time getting taken down by people who were better than me." He raised his finger as if he were going to wag it at her. "It's not screwing up. It's learning."

His face was red and his breathing harsh as he seemed to remember that he was in public. No wonder Makoto had become friends with him. They were young yet and failure was still permitted. Exams could be retaken, and even the justice system showed him more mercy than it ever would her. He didn't know the horror of one lost case meaning termination and blacklisting. Sae closed her eyes. Still, it would be nice to be given space at least in this one thing.

Her stomach growled. "Do you mind if we break for a few minutes? I came straight from work."

"Hungry? I can get you some curr—" Kurusu froze. "On second thought, I know where we can get some kakigori and a sandwich."

Ah, yes. They had both forgotten for a moment who she was and what she had been forced to do. It would be a long time before Sakura would let her into Leblanc without a warrant. Still, it was kind of Kurusu not to rub it in her face. He had been kind to her, she realized. He must still dislike her, but he wasn't letting it show. Maybe he was more prepared for the adult world than she thought. "That sounds lovely."

They walked through the twisting backstreets. The rot wasn't quite as bad here, but it was still visible. The only store that seemed to be doing brisk business was a junk shop. A building that announced itself as Kiraka's Dojo and Gym stood at one corner of the intersection, paint peeling off the sign. But by far the biggest building in the neighborhood was a darkened movie theater. The place had been shuttered for months—something about one of the proprietors having a heart attack—and it loomed dark and ominous as a haunted house in twilight.

"Tell Mr. Joichi that he and his thirty million yen can go to hell!"

Sae stopped and turned her head. The movie theater wasn't as abandoned as it seemed. An old woman who Sae recognized vaguely as one of said proprietors, stood glaring furiously at a man in a business suit as a teenage boy looked on. "There's been a movie theater here since the occupation!" she said. "Your boss isn't going to change that."

"Be reasonable, madam." His voice had the kind of sleek polish Sae had always hoped for in the courtroom, but had never been able to manage. "You've lost almost that much this year alone. Look around you. This whole neighborhood has been decaying for years. Mr. Joichi is a man of vision, who is going to build big, bright, beautiful buildings."

"Joichi?" Akira whispered. "I know that name. The guy on the billboards and TV, right? With the flashy suits?

Sae nodded. Joichi's real estate empire was mercifully confined to Tokyo and the surrounding environs, but his lavish lifestyle and flair for the dramatic made him a celebrity far in excess of his influence. It wasn't surprising Kurusu had heard of him.

"He's going to destroy this neighborhood, that's what he's going to do." Her voice rose higher and higher as she spoke. "Everyone knows he cheated poor Hito, and now we don't have a proper grocery store in the neighborhood."

The sleekness turned to steel. "Be careful with your words. You're already struggling because of your husband's illness. I'd hate to see you spending your remaining resources fighting a defamation charge." He pivoted to face Sae. "And it is defamation. Isn't that right, Prosecutor?"

Sae gritted her teeth. There was a time when she had thought the law was a tool to hold the powerful to account. The truth was that it was simply another weapon that they wielded against the weak. "I have better things to do than settle arguments on street corners."

"But she would be breaking the law if she continued to say these things?"

Someday, somehow, she was going to break Joichi and his smug agent. See how they liked being the fodder for someone else's power for a change. "It would be."

Kurusu went very still. He stood straighter, and his hands balled into fists at his side. "You work for Mr. Joichi?"

A warning prickle danced over Sae's skin. If Kurusu did something foolish right in front of her, she'd have no choice but to arrest him. Any hope Sakura would forgive her would vanish. She would destroy something Makoto cared for again. And...he had been kind today. She put a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were like steel under her fingers. "Easy, Kurusu."

He took a deep breath and relaxed by millimeters. His smile was tight and didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, Prosecutor. I just wanted his card. Write a letter of complaint."

"A letter of complaint? Be my guest. It'll be something to amuse the secretaries." He laughed and fished a card from his case. "I will be back, but I have to thank all three of you for the story that I'll be calling around the water cooler."

"That little thief! Bleeding us dry!" She rounded on Sae. "What's this government coming to if the prosecutors office lets him parade around?"

We're working on it. If my superiors will let me. "Stay calm. Concentrate on keeping the theater running. Joichi won't matter if you're not selling tickets."

"So nothing, in other words."

"Ms. Niijima is right," Kurusu said. "Keep selling tickets. Something will come up." He looked down at the card. "Hideo Kigami..."

"You're going to write that letter?" She shook her head. "You'd have a better chance posting on that Phan-site thing. That's what my grandson wants me to do."

Sae went cold. First Makoto, now this. The Phantom Thieves were everywhere. Stealing everything she was working for and committing crimes that shouldn't be possible. Her fingers tensed, and she kept her voice even only with effort. "The Phantom Thieves are vigilantes and glory hounds. Possibly worse."

"Why don't we get that kakigori?" Kurusu's voice sounded as if it was coming from far away.

Sae nodded. The last thing she needed was to humiliate herself in front of Kurusu and a perfect stranger. She would not explode a second time. She turned on her heel and walked away. Kurusu fell into step beside her, still holding on to the business card. What a pair they were, the prosecutor chasing shadows and the probationer writing letters and teaching her photography. "You're really going to write that letter?

He shrugged, head bowed and once more mouse instead of passionate instructor. "It's what you're supposed to do when things go wrong. Don't worry, Prosecutor, I've learned to keep my head down." As if to prove his point, he hunched his shoulders.

"Stop that. Your record will still be your record whether you try to turn invisible or not."

He looked up, the beginning of a smile playing on his lips. "But being invisible is so fun. Think of all the things you can do that people never even notice." He straightened. "Besides, the choice when guys like that bother you is to turn invisible or hope someone can save you. And I'm not the type to trust in a beautiful superhero saving me, even if she is a prosecutor."

"Don't flatter. It doesn't suit you."

"Oh don't worry, I wouldn't. I'm betting you get called beautiful enough that you want to strangle every guy that says it. But at least you aren't thinking about Joichi or—did you call them glory hounds?" His smile grew wider. "Let's get you food. And then I have some homework to do.