2026-02-23: Alibaba Returns
- Log: 2026-02-23 Alibaba Returns
- Cast: Ren Amamiya, Futaba Sakura
- Where: Back Alleys - Leblanc Cafe
- OOC Date: February 23, 2026
- IC Date: Sunday, September 30, 2012
- Summary: After a week and a half of silence, Alibaba reaches out to Ren again to advance the request they made to them for a change of heart. One problem: Alibaba never actually gave the name of the person whose heart they wanted changed, so The Phantoms couldn't come to a consensus about whether to accept the request or not. Alibaba takes this... poorly.
(|======================== Back Alleys - Leblanc Cafe ========================|)
-======================================================= Tokyo/Yongen-Jaya ====-
Tucked into one of the alleyways of Yongen-Jaya is a yellow shop with a
red-painted awning and doorway, and several pot plants flourishing in a nook --
coffee&curry Leblanc, according to the lettering above the entry. Prices for the
cafe are hand-written on a chalkboard propped up on a wooden chair, while a
green welcome mat labelled 'Leblanc' calls visitors in.
Cafe Leblanc is a cosy, intimate dining affair, with three tables for groups and
several high chairs at the front counter to let visitors enjoy coffee or curry
whilst chatting with its proprietor, the stern yet deeply kind Sojiro Sakura. A
yellow pay-phone lets visitors call for anyone they might need, while several
blends of coffee are featured on the walls behind the counter, alongside a
kitchen tucked away from visitors. There's a sink and a TV on one side of the
room, near the toilet and stairs; on the other side of the room, by the
entryway, a lavish potplant and pendulum clock are further decorated by a
beautiful piece of fine Japanese art -- the woman's portrait, 'Sayuri'.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Tink. Tink. ...Tink. Tink... tink.
It's been quiet this early morning at Leblanc. Ren descended from their attic room at about their usual time to make coffee and fix breakfast for a post-workout meal (protein drink before and a protein-heavy meal after help with the gains), but they haven't been speaking. They can be and often are quiet--they speak quietly and only when spoken to when they're doing a shift at Leblanc, for example--but usually they chat with their cat in the mornings.
Today... not so much. They were quiet when they came home last night, too. Just came in, left with their laundry, and came back again sometime later after bathing and running their wash (something they can be efficient about with Morgana there to keep an eye on their laundry), and went upstairs to bed. Or at least to their room. Futaba doesn't have the attic bugged, but the attic walls are paper thin, so it's very easy to hear that a conversation is taking place, even if it's not distinct enough to hear what's being said.
On their end, Ren's been quiet because... well... they had their first fight with their girlfriend Minako yesterday. Well--maybe not a "fight," considering it mostly consisted of the two of them apologizing to each other and feeling miserable, but certainly a rough patch. The two made up by the end, and everything seemed to be okay again... until Morgana pointed out to Ren that they hadn't actually resolved the problem that caused the conflict in the first place. Ren's been reflecting on it ever since. Morgana's still at their side, but he's just been watching them, blue eyes troubled.
"S-say! What've you got planned for today?" he finally says, no longer willing to tolerate the silence.
"Hm? Oh." Ren looks up, then down at their coffee and scrambled eggs. (It was supposed to be a ham, cheese and vegetable omelet, but, you know.) "I was thinking I'd go see Yoshida-san. Hold up a campaign sign while he does his speeches, sort of thing. S'been a while. It feels like the vibe today."
"Yoshida-san, huh... You know, after learning what your father does for a living, I'm kind of surprised you'd help any politician campaign."
Ren smiles briefly, raising their cup. "He's a loser." Sip. "I like that about him. It's relatable."
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
It has been a few days.
For about three of those days... Futaba Sakura did nothing.
That's not entirely accurate. She had continued to 'live,' considered biologically. She respired, metabolized, excreted. Cells, no doubt, continued to proliferate, even somewhat towards a growth that seems vain to Futaba, all things considered.
She responded to sense impressions, and even performed some complex actions (video games) and engaged with complex cultural symbols (anime).
But she didn't go far. Steps to the kitchen. Steps to the bathroom. Her heart pounding, somehow, just to get that far.
(To be fair to Futaba, there were several more day-equivalents where she was a bit better. More engaged. In her lane. Literally in her lane, in one case. Reading. Comprehending. Posting.)
But...
-=-=-=-
Ren's phone buzzes.
When they check it, whether immediately or after a relaxed enjoyment of scrambled eggs and coffee while they're both hot, the message is clear and simple.
It's that same ball-with-shark-teeth icon.
The text reads:
> Good morning.
Of course, it's going through some repeating rebounds. Can't be too careful these days.
-=-=-=-
Futaba adjusts her headphones, the screen reflecting on her glasses. She tugs her feet up to sit on the chair that's a bit large for her, relatively speaking. Soles of her feet on the fabric. Maybe I should paint my toenails later, Futaba thinks, like how Mom --
--
-- She adjusts the volume on the headphones, turning it up and glancing over to confirm that the audio feed is clear. She could swear that she was hearing the subtle bubbles and clanks of an early morning in Leblanc, but...
Futaba's hand bunches up and she bites lightly on the knuckle of her thumb. Come on, she wills (prays?) - don't already be at the train station...!!
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Before Morgana can push Ren on implicitly calling themself a loser, Ren's phone buzzes. They pull it out of their pocket and check their texts. They know it's not Minako or one of their inner-circle friends because they have individualized text notifications. When they see who it's from, though...
"What's up?" Morgana asks, seeing their eyes widen.
They glance up at him. "It's Alibaba."
They set down their fork and push their plate aside as Morgana sits up straight from his plate of hot-milk-cooled-to-room-temperature. Ren holds out their phone so Morgana can read it too. The two share a nod, and Ren types a response.
> It's you again. I couldn't get in touch with you. My texts kept bouncing.
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
> Is that so?
Futaba exhales and keeps typing.
> One cannot exercise enough caution when communicating.
She already sent that before briefly considering - was that a weird way to put it?
Either way, keep on going, Futaba, she tells herself, typing out more:
> Nevertheless, let's be certain.
> You are among those called the Phantom Thieves, correct?
She rocks back in her seat after that, letting out a huge breath. She shifts afterwards, glancing at the other monitor, the one with her notes and her preparations. Futaba's head turns down then to look at the painstaking thing she has created, resting on her desk. It's in an envelope, a plastic one. She wore gloves when piecing the collage elements together; she dug out a tube of superglue, still mostly liquid, which she slipped into the kitchen trash three days ago.
After fidgeting around the plastic envelope for a moment, she adjusts her headset and turns her eyes to the sound mixer. The gain is increased.
Did they just say Alibaba?
No, Futaba tells herself: Don't give too much away. They're clever as hell. The slightest slip and this entire plan could be ruined.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Ren frowns at Alibaba's response.
"A suspicious guy, our Alibaba," Morgana remarks, all business. "So then those texts bounced on purpose."
"Mm," Ren vocalizes, nodding in acknowledgement/agreement. If Alibaba was able to find out who they really are somehow, then it makes sense they'd have the technical prowess to do... whatever that was.
But then Alibaba asks for confirmation. Ren furrows their brows and shares a glance with Morgana.
"...No point in lying about it now," Morgana opines.
Ren nods agreement, then texts back:
> Yes.
> Not that you really needed to confirm that.
> Are you going to make your request now?
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
"hmf," Futaba vocalizes to herself when she reads Ren's response, but she feels like she's smiling. She adjusts the headphones further. Something's clattering, and there's talking... could it be from next door, or Sojiro leaving the TV on? Or Ren, for that matter.
"Nothing gets past you, does it, O Phantom Thief..."
Of course, she doesn't have a microphone there.
Her fingers speak more adroitly.
> Then you have agreed to accept it?
> That's good.
> Though it was necessary, accept my regrets if you've been impatient to get to work.
> I've taken care of everything.
> Within the next several days, one of your group shall receive the necessary tool.
> The calling card, isn't it?
It doesn't feel like being scared. It's exciting. Thrilling. Maybe --
Futaba's shoulders and neck tense up for a moment. They relax, more slowly than they tightened. She breathes out.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
It is from Ren--but they're pretty quiet right now, letting Morgana do most of the talking. There was that bit of conversation earlier... but then they were interrupted.
Not that that's a bad thing. Having something Phantoms-related to focus on right now means neither of them have to languish in the awkwardness of yesterday's fight.
However... Ren continues to frown at the response, as does Morgana. For all that Alibaba knows about them and The Phantoms, it's clear there's some crucial things they don't know. That's a relief on some levels, but there's no getting around telling them if either of them wants to move forward.
> No.
> Part of making a request is telling us who you're requesting.
> We can't agree to change someone's heart if we don't know whose heart we're changing.
> Give us a name. Then we Phantom Thieves can discuss it.
Ren considers saying 'and this is why you don't cut off all contact unilaterally' but decides not to. Alibaba seems smart enough to get why that was a bad move by now.
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
> ( ... )
That is not what Ren receives.
But what they do receive is that subtle indication of someone on the other end typing.
Futaba's eyes flicker over what Ren wrote and sent back. She stares at the phone emulator she's been using (of course she's not using her actual phone) and she can feel every single photon from the screen sliding through her glasses and reaching her eyes and sliding up her optic nerves and reaching her brain.
NO.
TELLING US
WHO YOU'RE REQUESTING
WE CAN'T
And that is when something suddenly leans into the space between Futaba's head and the computer monitor and says, with an asp's venom, "What did you expect," and that's when Futaba throws herself to the side.
She lets out a piteous little squall of vocalization but most of the sound is when she hits the wall. A firm thump. No damage; she didn't move that fast, she's not that heavy. A complicated clatter as the Feathermen are thrown around like so many pins in a bowling alley. Futaba curls herself up against the corner, the headphones thrown off, her ears bared and the world exposed.
Futaba weeps for a few moments. Shaking. Helpless. She dares, more in agitation than courage, to crack an eye --
She's alone in her room.
It takes her nearly fifteen seconds to uncurl. (The ( ... ) doesn't fade during this.)
Seven more seconds to crawl back further, on her hands and knees. Futaba yelps when Featherman Yellow finishes falling over from the crack that was being gently compressed by Futaba's own near-proximity, since she's moved away. Ten more seconds, dripping with anxious sweat, estimating her heart rate to be somewhere around 155 beats per minute, like a dance track, as she crawls into the chair.
The eigenstatt of the 'typing' indicator resolves into
> A name
And Futaba pants for a few moments, before adding
> ?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
How dare they. How dare all of them. Futaba can feel heat rising from her face. It's fogging the bottom half of her glasses. Her teeth grind helplessly, she knows she shouldn't but even here, even now, she - she's really -
Her shoulders sag.
Her memory kicks in, collating things. As she rises up to her feet, shambling over the door to confirm for the seventh time today that, yes, it's shut, and yes, it's locked, and, yes, there's nothing in the closet she didn't put there, and wanders back to her seat, and plops down, more words pour out.
This time there's not as much of a delay.
> A logical request.
> I recall your past "calling cards" included a name as well.
> As such, the preparations were inadequate.
> One moment.
She puts the headphones back on. The Feathermen are simply going to have to wait. It bothers her that they're scattered out, in the wrong place, but she's already wasted too much time.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
There's a lot of waiting on this one. Even more bizarre about that is the fact that the waiting comes with a clear indicator that there is some kind of answer forthcoming, based on the (...) of the pending response, that does not resolve for a very long time.
During this time, Ren and Morgana exchange a puzzled glance. Ren sets their phone down in between them and finishes breakfast. They both check again. They head back upstairs so Ren can change out of their sweats and into their regular clothes. They head back downstairs, shoulder bag and Morgana in place, and are on their way out the door when there is a beep.
It's a very odd response. Ren and Morgana share another glance, this time with him peeping at the phone from their shoulder.
"Weird," Ren murmurs.
"Very," Morgana agrees.
The two wait a moment longer. No response, at least at first. Ren is out the door and walking down the street when there's several new text beeps.
Whatever was going on with Alibaba, they seem to be over it now. There isn't anything for Ren to actually respond to yet, though, so they type back a simple "OK" to establish they're still there, then continue jogging towards the train station.
<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.
The response comes: 'OK.' It is a very consequential reply, though it isn't immediately responded to - other than the lack of a send-failure, which is a message in itself.
They're probably about to give up on me, Futaba thinks, bleakly.
Why shouldn't they? I'm just some idiot.
This is incredibly suspicious.
They might not be technically familiar enough to reason out what I'm doing, Futaba thinks further, her head leaning forwards. Hanging. But they're not stupid. They are like the exact reverse of stupid. They'll have figured out this was a -- a sick joke. A prank. Some enemy. Some idiot.
This was a bad idea.
I should just go lay over there, Futaba thinks. Just wait.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XavnC-ITRDM
... and yet...
Futaba hears a hand at the door behind her. Trying the knob.
Taking off her glasses, wiping them clean of fog on her shirt tail, Futaba exhales. The clicking of her fingers on the keyboard is slower, much less adroit. Her hands feel heavier. Her chest feels heavy. Huh, Futaba thinks, with a complex suite of emotions.
> Very well, I'll tell you.
Maybe I'm about to die? Right now?
It balances out, she thinks. Like the heart and the feather in the scales of Anubis.
There is a faint click as the door unlocks behind Futaba. She types. Slowly. Hunt and peck, now. One letter at a time. B E C A R E F U L, Futaba spells out to herself.
> I believe their name was...
Did the door just open?
Futaba stares at the keyboard. She is familiar enough with the emulator interface she doesn't have to look at it. She just has to look at the keyboard. Good old familiar keyboard. The signs and the glyphs. It fits her hands, now. It didn't always. Do adults have to get keyboards that suit their hands?
And yet. And yet.
The name. They need the name. With the name they can vote on the case. With the name they can complete the 'Change of Heart.' With the name they can - can -
Something rustles.
A presence is moving nearer. Slowly. Relentlessly. Futaba knows the exact distance from the back of her chair to the door of her room; she is intimately familiar with that room, now, with every detail save the few that cannot be seen save in clear bright lights that have not shone in this dark place for quite, quite some time.
Come on, Futaba tells herself. Just a few more. Then you can just slam that Enter key and it's out of your hands. You... You failed but at least... It's admirable to try, right? Futaba tells herself, breathing shallowly through her mouth.
A few keystrokes. That sense seems to be drawing nearer.
> Futaba Sakura
BAM, enter, SHIP IT, fine, it's there, and Futaba actually gasps something that's almost a 'hah,' and then she straightens up and --
That feeling isn't gone yet. She's not imagining it any more, Futaba thinks, eyes widening. It's really there. No, she's really there. Right there, behind her. If she turns around and looks up she'll see that face again. So utterly, completely familiar, so utterly, completely alien. The face of the dead haunted by those who survived.
Her throat is choking up. Her eyes are watering. Her pulse gets faster and she pants for air even as her fingers keep moving. Her eyes are still on the keyboard, in so far as she's seeing anything at all. Anger rises, strangled in her throat, reaching up to clasp her guts and wrench them, a slow and agonizing twisting.
The thoughts come out in a torrent from her hands because her mouth can't speak and there's nobody with any interest in hearing what she has to say anyway:
> If you fail in this mission, I will expose you to the police and to your enemies.
> I'll be counting on you.
> We shall speak again after the change of heart.
Halfway through writing another sentence, one that threatens to come into existence, to be sent through the virtualization and the digital infrastructure exploits that have allowed Futaba to route this material out to the miraculous figure who fell into the lap of Sojiro, a sentence that went something like 'I'll hold up my end' --
It gets to be too much. An abrupt, tree-branch-cracking feeling.
Futaba hears a very familiar deep breath behind her.
She snaps out, not with her hand, but with her foot, to land on top of the power strip and abruptly power down the entire PC deck. The lights on the computer die in less than a second; the monitors a bit longer for the phosphors to completely finish glowing. This early, there's no sunlight angled right to leak in around the edges of her blackout curtains.
Futaba is buried in the dark.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
The lack of send-failure is promising, to be sure. Ren has yet to have cause to think Alibaba means them or their friends harm, but they'd rather not have to wait another week and a half before learning What The Fuck. The Phantoms still don't know the location of Furudate's Palace, and while handling that is not an emergency right now, they can't advance the plot (so to speak) without that information.
Of course, if Alibaba didn't know that they need a name to change someone's heart, they might not know they also need a location either. They'll all cross that bridge when they get to it, though.
By the time the next text arrives, they've made it to the train station, paying at and passing through the turnstile. They still have their phone in hand, and when they look at the response, their eyebrows furrow.
"Hm."
Is there a problem with the name? they consider asking. They don't. It's kind of obvious there's a problem. They just can't figure out what it could be.
"They're acting awfully cagey about that name," Morgana comments, again peeking over their shoulder.
"Yeah," Ren murmurs. They settle in at the correct line, waiting behind the yellow line for the train to Shibuya Station to come. There is more of a (...); the two of them are waiting.
> Futaba Sakura
"Futaba... Sakura?" Morgana squints. "Who's that?"
"Sounds familiar," Ren murmurs, though they can't place where they've heard the name. Sakura is not that rare a family name--hell, they live with someone with it, not that Ren ever calls him by that name or even knows what kanji it's written with--but they don't think they know of a Futaba Sakura...
As they're considering this, a torrent of messages storm in. They're hostile and praising in immediate turn. Ren blinks wide-eyed at the unexpected threat.
> Excuse me?
...is what they try to send back, the first of several texts to protest this treatment that implicitly states that The Phantoms must take this mission, even though Alibaba had seemed open to them discussing it first and potentially turning it down before.
It bounces.
Ren scowls.
First things first, though. They open up the Meta-Nav and speak the name into their phone: "Futaba Sakura."
"Searching..." the robotic feminine voice of the app responds. And then: "Hit found."
...That answers one question, at least. Morgana and Ren glance at each other, then share a grim nod.
This definitely warrants further investigation.
BBS: You post your note about '(IC) Personal and Mission News' in group 12 (The Phantoms) as message #22
========================== The Phantoms ==========================
Message: 12/22 Author: Ren Amamiya Tue Feb 24 2026 (IC) Personal and Mission News
<Ren posts to The Phantoms' group chat late Saturday night.>
> Hey. I haven't brought this up with the group before, so I want you all to know, I'm dating someone.
> Her name is Minako Arisato, and she's a second year at Gekkoukan High, where Yusuke goes. She's really special to me.
> She of course doesn't know about Phantom Thief stuff, though, so keep it light. Obviously.
<...And then again Sunday morning.>
> Alibaba reached out to me again. I think they didn't realize we need a name for a target; they got really weird when I asked them for one.
> Not just weird--it went from a "request" to an outright threat. If we don't change the target's heart, they're going to expose us to the police and all our enemies.
> The target's name is Futaba Sakura. I checked the Meta-Nav; she has a Palace.
> We're not spoiled for choice here, but we'll still look into her before we decide what to do next. I'm not compromising on our rules, and I'm not going to make anyone else compromise on them either. We agree unanimously or we don't do it.
> If any of you find anything out, let the rest of us know. I'm going to try to figure out what I can too.