2026-04-05: Your Distortion
- Log: 2026-04-05 Your Distortion
- Cast: Ren Amamiya, Futaba Sakura, Morgana (NPCed by Ren)
- Where: Back Alleys - Leblanc Cafe
- OOC Date: April 06, 2026
- IC Date: October 21, 2012
- Summary: Alibaba reaches out to Ren once more. This time, Ren will not let the conversation end without saying their piece and explaining exactly what they still need from her.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Finally, it's the last day of midterms. Ren's been looking forward to today all week, not just because of the end of agonizing tests, but because of the invitation Akechi gave him on Tuesday to check out the Orionids together. They did their laundry last night after coming home from studying with Kurou, then packed their bag with a couple changes of clothing for today and Sunday. It feels like it's been forever since they've gone properly stargazing--it's the one thing they don't like about the city vs. the countryside.
So for today's breakfast, after their morning exercise, they savor their daily cup of coffee downstairs, with Morgana lapping up a saucer of hot milk cooled down to room temperature. After all the spying in the rain he did last night, he deserves it. ...never mind that it's just his to-go drink.
"You're in a good mood this morning," Morgana observes. "Excited for your trip?"
Ren's smiling around the lip of their coffee cup. "Yeah. Funny to think it's with Akechi."
"Yeah... I'd think you'd rather see Makoto first thing after your exams."
"Normally, I would," they say, shrugging a bit. "But the Orionids are tonight--well, tomorrow morning. And he's the one who asked. I don't hate him so much I'd turn him down, then go with someone else." They peer down at their reflection in the coffee. "...I wouldn't have even thought of it if he hadn't asked."
"Hmmm... Well, before that, you've got to finish your exams."
"Yeah. I've got a good feeling about them, though."
"Good! And then after that..."
"Futaba Sakura-chan, right?"
Morgana nods. "She--or rather, Alibaba--hasn't contacted us since the last time."
Ren nods back. "We can't keep waiting around for her."
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
It's funny, in its way, to consider. Given where Futaba Sakura surely is, and where Ren and Morgana stand, they could - were it an open field - simply *shout* and she would surely hear them.
But it isn't an open field. It's Leblanc, and its walls, and the buildings between them, and the walls of the house, and the walls of the room, and the walls...
Well, speaking of walls. Some of them have ears.
Futaba had been drowsing in her seat when she heard her name. The name is always a thing you're kind of attuned to hear. She's wide awake now.
The fact that Ren's making time with that guy from TV is its own tickle, and perhaps is enough to shift Futaba's mood into a place where she feels comfortable--
-=-=-=-
> Good day to you.
> It's been a while.
The message comes at about the point where Ren is sliding their card through the various gates and portals to pay for the access to the lifeblood of the city. Thus constrained by capitalism and its demands to pay a few yens to get on the dang train, they might not notice right away.
Another message comes a little further.
> The task isn't done yet.
> What is your group's status on the matter?
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Morgana of course isn't in Ren's bag. He's been cruelly replaced by those changes of clothing. All considered, he didn't really want to join in on an overnight trip with Akechi anyway, so since Ren plans on joining up with him immediately after school, he decided to hang around Yongen-Jaya for the weekend. A window, cracked open, ensures he has access to a warm bed at night.
For their part, Ren does indeed not notice the text until they're on the train, hugging their bag to their chest amongst the crowds. They've got a book to read on them, but they weren't lucky enough to catch a seat today... A buzz in their pocket draws their attention, and they pull out their phone to read--
Ren holds their breath for a second. Then, with an intense focus their exams won't quite match, they text back in rapid succession:
> Alibaba. Or should I say, Futaba Sakura.
> Sorry we scared you the other day. The girl who screamed at you, Makoto, is especially sorry about it.
(Ren does consider, briefly, saying that Makoto is their girlfriend. They decide not to. Maybe they should practice being more open about their personal life, but that's an absurd thing to drop on someone you barely know, whose interactions with you have not been fully friendly.)
> We've discussed it, and we decided to accept your request. There's still some more information we need from you before we can start, though.
> What's your distortion?
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
After sending that message, Futaba - with the serenity of someone who has grown familiarized with asynchronous communication - goes and does something else for several minutes, even as Ren settles their butt down on the train and
replies.
But Futaba does not see it. Her desktop environment doesn't send her a warning chime. She's set that for real important stuff, like CPU overheat or urgent kernel updates or something REALLY important, like the Saturday late-night anime being 5 minutes from starting.
She doesn't see it until she returns.
Futaba stares at the screen, motionless, for several seconds.
She exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Her hands are shaking a little as she types out a reply.
> ?
> I have no idea to what you are referring.
> It's careless of you to reveal the names of yuor operatives.
> ( ... )
Forty seconds of abandoned text-dumps and screaming later, Futaba buries her face in her hands, hyperventilates briefly... and types a little more.
> I have no idea what you are talking about.
> Is this relevant to the task I have given you?
> Consider the position you're in!
> But as you are a professional
> I'm prepared to overlook some insouciance.
> Nevertheless......
Okay. Okay, Futaba tells herself. She gets out of her chair and sits on the ground in front of her refrigerator. Okay. Let them stew for a minute. Alright. The fridge is opened and out comes a juice. She cracks it open. She sips it, big slow sips. Enjoy the taste. Enjoy the taste. Drink it slowly, Futaba tells herself, so you can taste it.
She can hear Mom telling her that. She looks suddenly over her shoulder, but the door is securely shut.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
It's not really their butt that they settle, but close enough.
Ren waits for a time for a reply. They have to catch the exchange at Shibuya Station first. They hear the beep of multiple texts at once, but they don't check their phone until they're safely at their exchange, waiting for their next train.
When they do, they frown. Because of certain assumptions they've got, they misunderstand what Futaba's trying to say. It annoys them a little, but they maintain their calm as they respond:
> It should be relevant, considering you asked us to change the heart of Futaba Sakura.
> I understand you panicking because we figured you out, but you should think twice before you try that kind of lie.
> It's OK. Our accepting your request is contingent on you being Futaba Sakura.
> We heard about your past from Sojiro-san. We understand and we want to help you.
Their train is rolling in. They glance up, then shoot off one last text quickly before boarding, phone clutched close to their chest.
> So, with all that out of the way: can you tell me your distortion, please? We're not playing around.
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
Futaba drinks her juice.
Futaba exhales.
Futaba puts the cap back on and places it in the bag that's currently receiving, which is about half full, and will soon join the other fifteen such bags in an odd corner. She pulls herself upright, stretches, and sits back down to turn around to her monitor and get INSTANTANEOUS DESTRUCTION.
Her mouth hangs open slightly slack as she reads Ren's words.
They have her cold and they're not shy about it. The logic is undeniable. For a horrible moment Futaba thinks: did *they* bug *me*? How could that be? They were only in the house -- could they have snuck in? But she's usually asleep only when they're at school--
"If... if you can hear me tell me what word I said. Juice drink," Futaba says aloud.
Nobody responds.
(Time stretches. It's been at least two minutes now.)
Futaba breathes, in the dark.
Her hands come up.
> Your logic is impeccabel. You're a formidable person.
> Nevertheless: I don't want you to use that name.
> call me Alibaba.
It's not a denial.
> I dont have context for your question.
> Distortion has many meanings.
> Distortion, noun
> 1. the act of twisting or alteritng something out of its true natural or original state; the act of distorting
> 2. the quality or state of being distorted: a product of distoritng such as
> 2a. physics a lack of proportionality in an imge resulting from deflects in the optical system ("an image free of distortion")
> 2b. falsified reproduction of an audio or video signal (see: Signal entry 1 sense 4b) caused by change in the waveform of the original signla
> example use in sentence "had to
Huh, it cut out.
> ( ... )
> anyway explain yourself.
> Did you hear what I said, by the way?
> and
> tell Makoto-san to forget about it.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Ren, sadly, doesn't get to be privy to any of this.
Morgana might be privy to it because he's got nothing else to do this weekend and he knows which window is Futaba's. But we'll set that aside for now.
They watch their phone for a while. Then they set the screen on their chest and stare at the roof of their second train, as crowded as the first. They do not hear the words 'juice drink.'
Soon enough, there is a response. They look quickly back to their screen. A brief smile later--they really have Makoto to thank for that; it made sense to them once she said it, but she's the first one who put together that Alibaba and Futaba are one and the same--and they respond:
> OK. I understand, Alibaba.
It isn't a denial. Ren can read between the lines. However, then Futaba--or rather, Alibaba--continues, and their eyebrows furrow. It's now that they realize that Alibaba... must not know anything about Palaces. Considering the price for taking her request was supposed to be her help with finding out Furudate's keywords, Ren realizes either they've been duped, or, more likely, the two of them have been misunderstanding each other this whole time.
...
Damn, she really is just entering each dictionary definition of "distortion" one at a time. That's kind of funny.
> What you said? Do you mean when we entered your house? I don't remember hearing anything, no.
> I'll pass that on to Makoto.
> In this context, a "distortion" is the way you see the world. Or, more specifically for you, your house.
> When you're in your room or walking around your house, what does it look like to you?
Hopefully Alibaba isn't, for random example, autistic and thus prone to literal thinking.
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
Futaba exhales hugely as she reads what Ren types. Though they may not know it -- unless somebody, who might be able to just walk up to a windowsill and angle his little precious head to peek into the narrow gap of her curtains -- or use a precious fluffy pawsie to push a window open a little -- rats her out -- Futaba can feel that painful writhing frenetic energy drain out of her.
Academically she knows what's happening, if not in the fine molecular-cellular details. She's read a couple of texts on the matter. Her adrenal system isn't pumping her full of the titular hormone, reducing her agitation. Her blood vessels are surely expanding, reducing the urgent pressure of a body in panic.
Whatever else, Futaba reasons, she has that over them. That'll keep her safe.
Her shoulders sag.
> Understood.
And then there's a question of context.
Gravity is weighing on Futaba. Her soul and her body. She brings up her legs in defiance of it, cuddling close to them. One hand rubs a little at the side of her cheek, nearer to her mouth. More words appear through the software layer.
She starts to type out an eloquent response. By the time she reaches a full paragraph in - which doesn't take long given the fact that her WPM are approaching multiple W per second - Futaba perceives the concept behind it. Bridges, in fact, to the earlier one.
Conceptual distortion.
What...
Thinking about it feels like something's starting to tremble and ring like the inside of a bell. She breathes out through her open mouth. She chews a sliver off her thumbnail. She deletes everything.
So a rather extended ( ... ) resolves suddenly into
> it's painful
And nothing else. Futaba's head tilts forwards, glasses sliding partway off her face. She doesn't push them back up.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
There may well be little precious heads and precious fluffy pawsies in the vicinity of Futaba's window. But even if there are, their owner won't be able to report back to Ren about anything until later tomorrow at best.
Until then, Futaba does indeed have that over on Ren.
Ren takes in that initial response. Good. They've mended the communication breakdown on at least one thing now.
But that prompts another thought, one that makes them worry. The Phantoms discussed the request and decided they want to help Futaba regain her original heart. But is that what Futaba understands she's requesting them to do? If she doesn't know about Palaces, what exactly does she think they're going to do to her?
As they consider this, there is a ( ... ) . Ren thus waits for Alibaba's response. It's taking a while, but they're patient.
When that long ( ... ) results in just two words--it's painful--with no follow-up--they worry anew.
Maybe it doesn't matter what she thinks they're going to do, as long as they can help her overcome her despair.
> I'm sorry. I need something more specific than that.
> What thing or place do you see your house as besides just a house?
They consider underscoring how much they need this information. They don't. The tone Alibaba has taken makes them think she's in a fragile state right now, and pushing her like that will only make it worse. Asking for clarification, by itself, is probably hurting her more already...
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
Futaba's eyes detect the motion of the screen as Ren's messages come in. It's a near thing. If they'd sent one message it might not have.
She lifts her head. For several long seconds she thinks: What's the use. Then, perhaps bleakly, she can imagine a world where Ren kicks down the door and they're standing there and maybe Sojiro is too or the others, the ones she's only seen as cryptic shapes in the dark other than much of Makoto's face, the strange voices incarnated.
An aversive reaction brings her hands to the keyboard
> I don't know
> it just hurts
> it's not sojiro's fault
Her hand wavers. More things come to her, formlessly.
For a moment she thinks of that nice French professor.
> i'm going to die here
> please don't think i'm not trying it just hurts
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
For what it's worth, Ren wouldn't kick down the door.
But they would come knocking, with all their friends in tow. More on that later.
Ren is still watching the screen of their smartphone. Their heart breaks for her a little when she responds, only taking the moment to insist that it's not Sojiro's fault.
The two of them really care about each other... Sojiro wants to protect her, and she wants to protect him. They're like a real family, even though they're not blood related.
Ren's heart squeezes painfully.
> I know it's not Sojiro-san's fault. He cares a lot about you, just like you care about him.
Some things need to be said out loud. Their failed romance with Minako has made that exceptionally clear.
Their alarm only increases as she goes on, though.
> You aren't going to die. We're going to help you. I promise.
They take a moment to fret; then, they take some deep breaths to calm down and continue:
> Take a couple of days to think about it. If nothing comes to you, I'll come by with my friends and we'll figure it out together. OK?
> We WILL change your heart.
A moment after they send this, it occurs to them that this reassurance might have the opposite effect on a hikikomori. Hastily, they add:
> BTW please don't cut off contact when you decide the conversation's over we need to keep communicating
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
Words reflect in Futaba's glasses.
Yeah I will, Futaba thinks miserably, but she doesn't type it out. That salving balm of the egotistical shadow-hacker trip has been ripped away from her. She should've known better, she tells herself.
> ok
A message comes in.
A beat passes.
Another.
"huh! huh!" Futaba vocalizes and for a moment she wonders if she's coughing even though to an outside ear it might sound like a miserable but real laugh.
Her other hand comes up. She is not much slower, typing one handed.
> im using software so i cant
> holdon
Actually, she reasons, she might as well. It's not as if Ren tracing her to her location is going to accomplish very much. Tab. Glance. Tapetty tapetty tap. Another couple of terser commands. A final rattling tap. Enter.
"mm," comes her voice again.
Back to the phone window.
> ok
> if you get an error wait 90s and try again
> itd mean it rebooted
> # wont change
However... There are no further responses that school day.
(Futaba walked over to lay on her back and pull the covers up over her head.)
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
The trouble of online communication is that tone is impossible to interpret without specific notation. Ren stares at that single "ok" and wonders if they should cancel the trip they've so been looking forward to.
Morgana's there, though. The two of them quietly agreed to it before Ren left for the day. What's more, Alibaba responds further, indicating she'll continue to talk to them. They sigh a breath of relief. If they can still talk, then it'll be OK. No freaking out. They can't help anyone that way.
> thanks.
> Just a little longer, Alibaba.
> We'll keep you updated.
Then they put their phone away and turn their gaze towards their destination.