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Saturday, 10 September 20XX, Evening

Sakura household, Yongen-jaya

Futaba Sakura had gone through a lot of trials in her young life.

Two years ago, her mother, Wakaba Isshiki, had died under mysterious circumstances.  Based on what Futaba thought was a strained relationship with her mother, Futaba had led herself to believe that she was somehow responsible.  Under the care of her adopted father, Sojiro, life was comfortable, but due to his own guilt, he had allowed Futaba to lapse into the shut-in life of a hikikomori.  She would seldom leave her bedroom, and never leave her house at all. All this only led to her bottling her negative emotions, allowing them to nearly take over her life.

Indeed, there were many times where Futaba had been tempted by some dark, self-destructive urges.  Perhaps, she convinced herself, sacrificing her own life would, in some way, bring her mother back.  Of course, this made no logical sense, and so thankfully Futaba was able to push back the waves of despair every time they crashed over her.  But there had to be something else in her life to make it worth living, something to work towards in order to keep facing the new day. So, what kept her from going around the bend and succumbing to her darkest impulses?

She had a hobby.  A secret hobby which she was too embarrassed to share with anybody, even the people closest to her.  And even if they were to found out, it wasn’t something they were likely to believe.

Futaba Sakura practised the art of bellydance.

As odd as this may have seemed for someone like Futaba to practise, this interest didn’t come from nowhere.  She had developed a keen interest in ancient Egypt from a young age. This had manifested in her subconscious as well, in the form of her own Palace -- a pyramid, a cool tomb surrounded by the scorching desert of the outside world.  Eventually, one thing led to another, and as she explored more and more aspects pertaining to Egypt, past and present, she inevitably came across

raqs baladi

and

raqs sharqi

, two dance styles originating from Egypt which, along with the Turkish

oryantal dans

, were some of the most widespread versions of bellydance.

At first, Futaba was content just to watch videos of performances online.  But before long, she caught the bug -- an urge to try it out for herself. There was no shortage of free tutorial videos available, and with her highly-analytical mind, she set to work teaching herself an assortment of basic moves.  It hadn’t been an easy road, to be sure. As she quickly discovered, belly dancing made for an intense workout, and with her sub-par stamina, Futaba’s practise sessions could only last so long before she got knackered out. And every so often, she would come across a move which she couldn’t replicate no matter how hard she tried.  Belly waves had been one such sticking point before, and hip shimmies were still another hard-mode manoeuvre. Setbacks like these discouraged her from trying again for days, or even weeks, at a time, at which point the anxiety over her mother’s accident wormed its way back into her headspace. But when she was able to focus, she threw her all into this new obsession.  With more than a year’s worth of self-taught experience under her belt, Futaba had even put together her own basic dance routine. And in order to keep her skills sharp, she practised it as often as she could.

It was a warm September evening.  All her new friends had gone back to school after their Summer holidays, only for them to subsequently head off on a school trip to Hawaii.  Futaba, who due to her extenuating circumstances had so far skipped high school, had no such obligations. (Including the Hawaii trip… lucky sods.)  Currently, she was hacking away on a personal programming project, a visual-novel game, but felt like she needed a break. Understanding the need for at least some non-screen time during her day, she figured this to be a perfect opportunity to give her routine a try.  Saving and closing her work, she spun her rotating chair away from her multi-monitored computer rig and got up. Standing in the scant space beside her bed, she took a moment to mentally prepare herself.

At the moment, Futaba was barefoot and wearing a baggy, grey-coloured pair of cargo pants, and a black-and-green tank-top decorated with a Tetris scene.  She pulled off the tank-top and tossed it on the bed, leaving a modest black training bra atop her chest. Gingerly, she caressed her hands over her exposed stomach, and was pleased with what she felt.  Futaba had never been considered overweight, but due to her lack of physical activity, she was still the least-fit member of the Phantom Thieves. However, she discovered bellydance to be an intense workout, and the energy she burned had led to her finally shedding her stubborn layer of baby fat.  After all, that had been part of the reason for taking this up in the first place. On top of that, her diet wasn’t doing her any favours, either. While she did have a taste for organic food, it was all too easy for her to fall back on convenient junk like potato crisps, instant ramen, and energy drinks during one of her many marathon coding sessions.  There wouldn’t be any major changes on that front until she got up the courage to ask Sojiro to cook her up some new things, and she wasn’t quite there yet. But nonetheless, the progress she had made in toning her physique pleased her greatly, and served to psyche herself up for what she was about to start.

She began with a warm-up routine consisting of repetitions of individual moves she had learned up to that point, starting with pairs of hip-lifts and hip-drops on her left side.  Each move was done in sets of 16 repetitions, for two reasons. One, that number fit neatly into the 4/4 time signature of most music. And two, Futaba was innately familiar with the hexadecimal numbering system, common in computing, in which each digit could be represented by one of 16 values, the numbers 0 through 9 and the letters A through F.  “0… 1… 2… 3…”, she mentally counted after each hip-drop. “C… D… E… F”, she finished, subsequently re-starting the process with her right side. From basic lifts and drops, Futaba moved on to the other building blocks of baladi: mayas, figure-eights, hip circles, belly undulations, and shimmies of the hip and shoulder varieties. Despite their exotic appearances (and names), they were all just sequences or combinations of simple body movements.  With Futaba’s highly-analytical mind, she grasped the concepts of these motions near-instantly. Consistently pulling them off was, of course, a different story, but that’s what these practise sessions were for.

Once she felt sufficiently warmed up -- which those energy-intensive shimmies had done much work towards -- she set up the routine she had choreographed herself over the course of her training.  In order to keep her hobby hidden from the outside world, she only allowed herself to play videos or music on the subject through headphones. She picked up her favourite pair Bluetooth headphones from the top of her PC tower, which were much easier to find now that Ren and her other friends had cleaned up her room during her change-of-heart-induced coma, and wirelessly connected them with her smartphone, on which she queued up a specific song.  Securing the headphones over her ears, she took a deep breath, squared off her stance, and pressed play.

The song came from a video game series which Futaba had long been a fan of, despite so few of its entries being (officially) available in Japan.  The games starred a half-genie girl who used bellydance to transform into various animal forms with unique abilities. The music fit its fantasy setting by emulating Arabian instruments and melodies in 8-bit chiptune form.  For her custom routine, Futaba had chosen a song featured early in the game, which had a slower, more manageable tempo.

Waiting for the music to start, Futaba paused in position, her arms splayed out low and to the sides.  There was no lead-in to help her get used to the tempo, so she initiated motion as soon as she heard the song start.  To begin with, she gradually raised her arms as she performed a series of mayas, a manoeuvre in which a hip-lift was followed by sliding the hips outward to the side.  When repeated on alternating sides, as she was so doing, it created a simple yet seductive wavy effect. This portion of the song ended in a trio of staccato eighth-notes, which she punctuated with lift-drop-lift motions in one of her hips.

For the next section, she held her arms out to the sides and did hip-lifts as before, but this time, twisting the hip forward and waving it in small circular motions.  At the end of this segment, she paused in mid-hip-circle and slid her head side-to-side along with the same musical flourish. Futaba had not yet attained mastery in isolating the motions of one body part from the rest, a key skill in baladi, and so her shoulders dipped and rose slightly as she slid her head about.  The same foible was true of her next move, a series of chest and belly undulations with her arms crossed over her head. The abdominal control needed to pull off this move had taken her quite a while to learn, and since she didn’t have a sizeable mirror to perform in front of, she had no way of telling how naturally she was pulling it off.  But thanks to the practise she had put in to this particular move, it at least “felt” right. On top of that, this particular move felt very sensual to perform, like she was an RPG heroine casting a “charm” spell on her foes.

This routine had very little ground movement, due to there being precious little floor space in her bedroom, even after her new friends had unilaterally cleaned up all of the clutter.  And it was fairly repetitive, due to her as-of-yet limited repertoire of moves and her lack of imagination regarding things like arm placement or other move combinations. Nonetheless, when Futaba was in the midst of performing it, she felt herself transported to a different place and time.  No longer was she a shut-in otaku girl trapped in downtown Tokyo; now she was a professional dancer giving a show at some Cairo cafe. Or, she was a harem girl giving a private performance to some anonymous bishonen whom she would one day fall in love with. Or, even, she was the genie girl from that video game she picked the music from.  Regardless of whom exactly she was emulating, dancing made her feel the one thing she never thought she could become: happy.

This particular song did not end in a climax, but merely repeated a couple of times before ending in a fadeout, near the start of the third loop.  Nonetheless, Futaba had memorised the song sufficiently to recall that the ending bit was approaching. She was wrapping up the second verse with some hip shimmies; as this was a move she had yet to master, due to the intense coordination required to control the rapid-fire motions of the knees and hips, she settled on a series of shorter shimmy-bursts to create the same effect.  As soon as the verse ended and the third loop began, she transitioned into her finale, where she would lean backwards at the waist and draw her arms up and across her body in a sexy flourish. Unfortunately, all her exertion had drained her already-limited stamina to its breaking point. On top of that, back flexibility and balance were two more of her weaknesses, so despite putting one of her feet back to steady herself, she managed to topple backwards over that centre of balance, and thumped her head hard on the closet door behind her.

The last thing she saw before blacking out was the door to the hall flying open, revealing Sojiro.  “Futaba? Are you okay in there?”, he called. When he saw the figure of Futaba slumped against the door, he muttered, “...Hoo boy…”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Saturday, 10 September 20XX, Evening

Sakura household, Yongen-jaya

Sojiro Sakura had been heading downstairs, clutching a basket of laundry to wash at the neighbourhood coin-laundromat, when he heard a sharp thump emanating from Futaba’s room.  His step-fatherly instincts instantly kicked in, and he immediately proceeded to drop what he was doing (literally) and check what was the matter. Of course, his thoughts were already on the topic of Futaba, albeit feelings of pride and joy for the progress she made since the Phantom Thieves’ intervention.  The bump he just heard, however, startled him back to reality. He dropped the laundry basket and dashed for the door to Futaba’s bedroom, flinging it open.
 
Swiftly surveying the situation, his eyes soon fell upon the sight of Futaba slumped against the closet door, looking rather disheveled.  Her favourite set of headphones had been knocked down the front of her head, but most concerning of all was the fact that Futaba had taken off her shirt.  It wasn’t excessively hot out, least of all in her heavily-air-conditioned bedroom. Was she changing into her pajamas when she tripped on something? Perhaps, but why would she be listening to music or whatever while doing it?  He would find out sooner or later, but first he had to make sure she was okay.
 
Futaba appeared unconscious, but a few quick checks indicated breathing and a slow but steady pulse, so she probably had just fainted, knocking her head against the closet door on her way down.  Sojiro cradled his hand behind his adopted daughter’s head where it had most likely had hit the door, and briefly felt around the area. “No bruises…” he diagnosed aloud. Then he withdrew his hand and glanced down at it.  “No blood, either.” Relieved, he lifted her up and onto her bed, then sat backwards atop her desk chair, waiting for her to awaken. After a minute of waiting, he felt distracted by the sight of Futaba’s exposed tummy, so he dug the bed’s duvet cover out from underneath her body and laid it on top of her.
 
Luckily, it took only fifteen minutes before Futaba stirred to something resembling an awakened state.  Sojiro listened to her indistinct murmurs and in relief, responded, “Thank goodness, you’re awake.” She slowly rolled her head over to face the source of that voice, which of course was Sojiro.  “How do you feel, Futaba?” he asked.
 
“I’m fine, Sojiro…”, she responded vaguely audibly.
 
“Oh, that’s good to hear”, responded Sojiro.  However, his fatherly curiosity got the better of him as he added, “So, what were you doing when you fell over?”
 
Bad move.  For all her talk of making advances into the outside world, Futaba was still nowhere near prepared to share word of her secret hobby with others.  Without speaking a word, she signified her unwillingness to talk by simply rolling onto her side, facing the wall away from Sojiro.
 
Sojiro tried to keep his tone of voice innocent and friendly.  “I’m just curious, is all.” Glancing over to the tank-top that was still lying atop the bed, he added, “Is that why you took your shirt off?”
 
“Go away,” she mumbled.
 
“Okay, Futaba.  If you won’t talk, I’ll just have no choice but to assume the worst.  You weren’t doing anything… perverted, were you?”
 
“No, no!” she panicked as her face blushed beet-red.  So much as hearing what naughty situations Sojiro could come up with, however hypothetical, would virtually cause her to die from embarrassment.  Desperate to shut him up and put his mind at ease, she figured coming clean would be the lesser of two evils in this case. To stall for time, she mumbled, “Dad… I mean, Sojiro-san…”  She paused once more to build up some last-second courage, rolled back over to face him, and said, “I’ve been doing belly dancing”.
 
Sojiro’s response was more understated than Futaba was expecting.  “Huh… that’s neat,” was all he said at first. Then, suddenly, he added in a stern tone, “Wait a minute, you’re not showing off for some webcam site, are you?”
 
“No!” Futaba shouted, offended at the insinuation.  Composing herself, she lowered her voice and continued, “I’ve just been doing it for myself.  I haven’t shown it to anyone, I just… I watched some tutorials online and thought I’d try it out.”
 
“I see.  I’m curious to see what your dance is like, so would it be okay if you show me what you’ve been working on?  Not right now, obviously, but--”
 
“Reeeh!?” Futaba gasped in shock.  She had always looked at bellydance as a solo activity so far, and performing for anyone else was not an eventuality she had prepared for.  But her own sort-of-father? That felt wrong on so many more levels! For a moment, her thoughts flashed upon Kana, her old friend from grade school.  Since leaving Tokyo, her parents had forced her to pose for lewd photographs. Would Futaba wind up suffering a similar fate? “No way! You’re not gonna perv on me, are you?”
 
“It’s not like that!” protested Sojiro.  “I’ll just sit and watch quietly. You don’t even have to take off your shirt if it would make you feel more comfortable.”
 
“If that’s so, then… answer me this.  What do you think about me taking up belly dancing?”
 
“Well…”  Sojiro rubbed the back of his head as he racked his brain for an answer that wouldn’t get him kicked out of the room.  Before long, an answer came to him naturally. “...I’d be proud of you, Futaba-chan. As long as you’re doing this for yourself, and not for the attention of some shady guy, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
 
Futaba briefly considered the prospect.

Hmm…

she thought.

Sounds respectful enough.  I should’ve known better… Sojiro-san hasn’t been the type who would take advantage of me. Besides, if I never get to show my dancing talent to anyone

, t

hen what’s the point of it all?

“...Alright.  I’ll show you, but you gotta promise that you won’t do anything creepy, AND you won’t tell another soul, living or dead, until I permit otherwise.”  She held out her fist, pinky finger extended, and prompted, “Pinky swear?”, waiting for Sojiro to reciprocate the action
 
And reciprocate he did, hooking his pinky around hers and, staring at her eye-to-eye, said, “You’ve got it, Futaba-chan.  My lips, and my hands, shall be sealed. And if I break my promise, may I go out of business and get hunted down by the Phantom Thieves--”
 
“Okay, okay, enough!” she giggled.
 
“Alright, Futaba-chan.  So, how did you find out about it?  What piqued your interest?”
 
“Egypt.  That’s where it came from.”
 
“Did it, now?”  Sojiro turned his head towards the hall door, on which hung a poster adorned with ancient-Egyptian hieroglyphs.  “I should have known,” he said with a chuckle.
 
When he smiled, Futaba joined in with a smile of her own.  Finally, he had managed to break the ice. Now that she had finally warmed up emotionally, she seized the moment to spout out every little bit of trivia that she could recall.  From its distant origins in ancient Egypt, to its modern codification over the course of the 20th century, to the different styles that had formed into being by the present day, she breathlessly yet eagerly spoke at such a rapid pace that Sojiro could do little but occasionally nod in feigned acknowledgement.
 
“And did you know that in those old movies,” she prattled on, “they weren’t allowed to show dancers with their belly buttons exposed, but they got around that just by sticking a jewel in there, and the censors actually allowed it?”
 
“Did they, now?”  Now that Futaba was finally slowing down the pace of her information barrage, he managed to put in a question of his own.  “And how long have you been doing this?” he asked.
 
“Oh… about a year.  Off-and-on. Sometimes, I would try a move and I just couldn’t get the hang of it and I’d stop for a while and...” she rambled, only to cut herself off before she could bring up the fact that not practising her dancing only served to relapse in thoughts and fears about missing her mother.
 
“I see…  Would this have anything to do with your mother?”
 
Tears began to form in Futaba’s eyes, both from sadness at the mention of her late mother, and from relief that Sojiro was starting to come to an understanding.  “I just needed something… to keep… my mind off…”, she managed to say before rolling over and sinking her head into her bare arms.
 
“Alright, don’t cry, Futaba-chan.”  He leaned over and hugged Futaba by the shoulders.  The touching emotions of the moment elicited a few audible sobs from her. “I’d be interested to see what your dance is like,” continued Sojiro, “but I understand if now’s not a good time.  Can we talk about this some more, tomorrow at breakfast?”
 
Futaba managed another nod.
 
“Speaking of, do you want me to make you something for dinner?”
 
“What time is it?”
 
“Oh... “  Sojiro checked his watch.  “Half past seven.”
 
“I’m not hungry.”  This wasn’t exactly true, since all her dancing had literally taken a lot out of her, but Futaba was just too sad to eat at the moment.
 
“Alright.  But I’m gonna make you a nice, big breakfast to make up for it, so look forward to that, okay?”

“Okay dad… Sojiro-san.”  It was becoming ever-harder for Futaba to remember that Sojiro was not actually her birth-father, but that was only because of the overwhelming amount of fatherly love he was expressing, now more so than ever.  Thinking about that caused even more emotions to well up inside her, and she sniffed back a tear in a vain effort to hold them all inside.
 
“Thanks... dad.”  Futaba finally gave in on two fronts: one, calling Sojiro “dad”, and two, crying.
 
“Now you get some sleep, alright, Futaba-chan?”  Sojiro stood up to leave, but caught himself and added, “Oh, by the way, I was going out to do the laundry.  Do you have anything you want me to wash?”
 
In response, Futaba blindly picked up the tank-top lying above her on the bed and handed it to Sojiro.  Then, still beneath the covers, she discreetly unfastened her pants, pulled them down off her legs, and dropped them on the floor beside her bed.  He picked up the pair and finally made his way out, stopping at the door to say a tender, “Good night, Futaba-chan,” and turned off the lights.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sunday, 11 September 20XX, Morning

Sakura household, Yongen-jaya

It was roughly eight o’clock the following morning when Futaba awoke.  She was trying to wring as much rest as possible out of this lazy morning, but she had felt chilly sleeping only in her underwear, and lay curled up into a fetal position in a vain attempt to trap in as much body heat as possible.  Sensing that this was a lost cause, she eventually willed herself up out of bed, retrieved and donned the clothes she had worn yesterday, now laid and neatly folded in front of her door, and then left to freshen up in the bathroom down the hall.  She was in the middle of brushing her long, orange hair back into form when she heard Sojiro’s voice calling from downstairs.
 
“Futaba-chan!  I’m going out to Leblanc for breakfast!  Did you want to join me?”
 
“Coming, Sojiro-san!”  The instant she was satisfied with the state of her hair, she put down the brush, dashed back into her bedroom to pick up her trusty smartphone, and bounded down the stairs to meet Sojiro in the entrance hall.  Together, they slipped their shoes on and walked out, around the block to Cafe Leblanc.
 
Cafe Leblanc, Yongen-jaya
 
Leblanc was not set to open to the public for a couple of hours.  On any other day, Sojiro would already have been manning the place, cooking breakfast for Ren in addition to setting up for the cafe’s first guests, but with the boy out in Hawaii at the moment, he could afford to take it easier today.
 
“What would you like?” he asked to Futaba as he unlocked the cafe’s front door.  “Curry and coffee okay?”
 
“The breakfast of champions!” she quipped as they stepped inside together.
 
Sojiro chuckled and answered, “Coming right up, my little champion!”  Futaba blushed and giggled as she took a seat in one of the booths along the left-hand wall, while Sojiro turned right into the kitchen and set to work, alternating his attention between heating up leftovers of last night’s curry, steaming some rice in the rice cooker, and brewing some coffee.  The coffee was a blend made from Arabian-sourced beans, a subtle nod to Futaba’s newly-revealed hobby. Before Sojiro had a chance to prepare the finished coffee, she called out, “Hey Sojiro-san, could you do me a favour, and hold the sugar?”
 
“You sure you don’t want any sugar?” he called from the kitchen.  He was used to preparing her coffee with milk and sugar.
 
“Might as well start watching my weight.”  Now that Futaba was more comfortably embracing one form of physical activity, she felt inspired to make a few more healthy changes in her life.
 
“You got it,” he replied as he poured the results into two separate cups, leaving his black and pouring a splash of milk into Futaba’s.  Satisfied, he delivered the cups to the table Futaba had chosen, followed by the plates, and sat down across from her. After chiming out a cheerful “Itadakimasu!”, she eagerly wolfed down the curry-rice, taking only occasional sips of coffee to save as much as possible for later.  When she finally cleared her plate, she gave Sojiro a respectful yet hurried “Gochiso-sama”, and pushed it to the outside edge of the table.
 
“My, you’re certainly in a hurry this morning.”  Sojiro was only half-way through his own plate of curry.  “Tell you what, you can go upstairs to set up, stretch, or whatever, and I’ll head up when I’m done eating.  That okay with you?”
 
“Thank you, Sojiro-san!”  And with that, she sprung up from the booth seat and bounded to the upstairs loft.  This room, which normally served as Ren’s bedroom, was neatly furnished with two sets of shelves, a table topped by a TV and a vintage game console, a couch, a workbench, a low bed, and a well-fed potted plant.  There was more than enough floor space in the middle of the room for Futaba to perform her dance routine. Queueing up the appropriate song on her phone, she put it back in her pocket and performed her warm-up routine.  “0… 1… 2… 3…” she mentally counted along with her hip lift/drop sets.
 
A few minutes later, Sojiro put their plates away in the dishwasher and walked upstairs to meet Futaba, currently practising her undulations.  She had rolled the bottom hem of her tank-top up to her lower chest; the shirt was just tight enough that it would stay in place for a while when affixed in such a fashion.  “8… 9… A… B…” The sudden appearance of Sojiro startled her into losing her place. “Ah! Sojiro-san!”
 
“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
 
“Oh, not at all!” she recovered.  “Just doing a few warm-ups. Please, sit down.”  He obliged, sitting on the couch and placing his coffee cup beside Futaba’s.  “Now, where was I…?” She wound up restarting her set of ab rolls from scratch; she figured she could use the extra practise.
 
Once she was done with the set, Sojiro asked, “So, you’re okay with doing your shirt up like that?”
 
“Yeah.  I figured my moves wouldn’t look the same if you couldn’t see my belly.  If you’re okay with that…”
 
“No problem.”
 
“Great!  You know, there are quite a few situations where dancers don’t even show their bellies.  Mostly casual, folksy settings.”
 
“Is that a fact…?  Well, I guess there’s more to belly dance than I thought!”
 
“Right.”  Futaba wrapped up a set of hip-shimmies.  “You ready?”
 
“Break a leg, Futaba-chan!”
 
And so Futaba laid her phone out onto the table, turned its speaker volume up, pressed play, and hurried to the centre of the room just in time for the song to begin.  Whatever doubts she had about performing in front of her adoptive father melted away as she absorbed herself into the dance. She even got through her belly roll “charm” move with only a minimum of internal embarrassment.  When the time came for her finale move, she made sure to lean back less this time, in order not to fall backwards like she did last night. Despite the relative lack of dynamism in that move, her routine went off without a hitch.  She held her ending pose for a few seconds, breathing heavily with exhaustion, until Sojiro gave a round of applause, to which she bowed demurely. “So, what did you think?”
 
“Futaba-chan, that was amazing!  And you put that together all by yourself?”
 
“That’s right!” she bragged as she sat down on the couch between Sojiro and the TV table, tugging her tank-top back down over her tummy to reclaim her modesty.  “I’ve gotta say, Sojiro-san, you seemed awfully...” She stalled to find the right word. “...accepting when I told you I was into belly dance. Thank you, by the way.”
 
“No problem.”
 
“So, were you familiar with it from anywhere?”
 
“Well… one of the morning talk shows on TV had this dancer gal as a guest a few months ago.  Said her name was Maiko… something.” He struggled to recall her family name, but went on. “She’s about my age, a little younger.  She’s Japanese, but she spent a few years--”
 
“Is this her?” interrupted Futaba.  She lifted her smartphone to reveal a video of that very same talk-show appearance, which she had searched for online and found as soon as Sojiro mentioned her name.
 
“How did you…?  Yes, that’s her, alright!  You work fast, don’t ‘cha?”
 
Futaba tilted the phone on its side, filling its screen with the image of the show’s gaudily-coloured set, and they watched it together.  On the right side sat the show’s two hosts, an ordinary, yet photogenic, business-suited man and woman. Their guest sitting gracefully on the left side was, in contrast, far more eye-catching.  She wore a full dancer’s ensemble consisting of a bra and belt bejeweled in red and white, and a flowing, silken red skirt slit up to the mid-thigh in front of both legs. Her face was neatly made up with crimson lipstick and eye shadow, and framed by neat, inward-curling bangs, contrasting with the untamed, wavy mane of brown hair that cascaded behind her.  The on-screen captions wrote her name, Maiko, in katakana with no surname, so it was in likelihood only a stage name.
 
“And now,” announced the female host, “the lady who has single-handedly kicked off a belly dance revolution all over Japan…  Maiko!”
 
The dancer bowed in her seat.  “Thank you for having me on your show,” she politely responded.
 
“What made you interested in belly dance?” asked the male host.
 
“Well, my father worked in a manufacturing company that had a lot of business in the Middle East, so my family used to travel a lot between Japan and Egypt.  Egypt, of course, is where belly dance got its start. On top of that, I always wanted to be an idol. Unfortunately, I don’t have a good singing voice.” She paused to let the audience get in a laugh.  “Fortunately, I did find that I had a talent for dancing. I started by copying a few routines from movies, then I got my parents to take me to proper classes, and finally I got a job performing at dinner shows, on the cruise boats that sail across the Nile.”
 
“Oh wow,” Futaba said aloud, “she taught herself, just like me!”
 
“What made you come back to Japan?”, the male host went on.
 
“As you may know, there was a revolution in Egypt a few years ago.  I stayed through it at first, but afterwards, people had a lot more problems with assaults and stuff.  I didn’t have too much happen to me personally, but I knew a few people who weren’t so lucky. On top of that, the authorities tried to shut down a few of my shows.  Eventually, I began to fear for my safety and just moved back to Japan. I also figured, this would be the right chance to share my talents and promote a better understanding of baladi.”
 
“Ah, that’s very noble of you, Maiko-san,” said the female host.  Turning to the camera, “Let’s see how you’ve been doing that!”
 
The scene then switched to a pre-recorded mini-documentary, showing clips of her daily life, her performances at various cabarets in Tokyo, and the class she taught at a studio in Yongen-jaya.  “Wow, that’s a convenient coincidence,” Futaba pondered out loud. “I wonder if I could-- HOLY CROW IS THAT ANN-CHAN!?”
 
This outburst startled Sojiro, who reprimanded her, “Keep your voice down, Futaba.”
 
Seeming not to notice his command, she pressed, “No dad, that really is her!  Look!” She swiped the screen to jump the video back a few seconds, and paused it a moment later.  Frozen in the centre of the screen, caught in the middle of doing a hip-twist, was a girl dressed in dark workout clothes and a red hip-scarf, similar to the other girls surrounding her.  But there was no mistaking the aqua-coloured eyes and platinum-blonde twin-tail hairstyle of this girl. Ann Takamaki, one of the Phantom Thieves, had enrolled in Maiko’s belly dance class.
 
“Well I’ll be…” Sojiro mused, adjusting his glasses, as if he couldn’t see it right.  “That’s Ann-san, alright.”
 
Futaba was star-struck.  “That… is… so… cool…” she whispered.  “Ooh! Maybe I can join the same class as her!”
 
“Okay, Futaba-chan, let’s not rush this.  We’ll wait for Takamaki-san and the others to come back from Hawaii, and you can ask her then.  See if it’s right for you. I have learned how intense of a workout it can be, and well, I don’t want you fainting from exhaustion in the middle of a class or anything.  Besides, classes like those can get expensive. It might be better if you and her just practised together on your own time. Again, we’ll wait and see what she says.”
 
Futaba’s enthusiasm deflated slightly, but she was willing to take his advice for now.  “Alright, Sojiro-san…”
 
“Listen, I’ve got to open up the shop now, so you run along back home now.  Maybe you could practise your moves some more so they’ll look even better for Ann!”
 
“Sounds like a plan!”  She gave Sojiro a parting hug before turning back towards the stairs and adding, “I guess it’s time for me to make like a tree… and shimmy!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tuesday, 13 September 20XX, Evening

Cafe Leblanc, Yongen-jaya

The day before, Ren, Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, and their other schoolmates had finally returned from their class trip to Hawaii.  After returning to classes the next day, they all met up in the loft of Leblanc to hold a Phantom Thieves meeting. It ended in disaster, when Morgana got into an argument with Ryuji and left the Phantom Thieves altogether, expressing an intent to solve the mystery of the mental shutdowns alone.  When the meeting adjourned, everyone began to leave in silence, Ryuji in a particular foul mood. However, Futaba tugged on Ann’s wrist and asked to speak with her alone. “Could you boys leave Futaba and me alone for a few minutes?”, Ann requested of the others. “Girl talk.”
 
“Whatever...” grumbled Ryuji as he stormed down the stairs.
 
“Don’t worry about him, Futaba-chan.  He’s right about one thing… Mona will come back.”  Ann sat herself down on the sofa and asked, “So, what’s on your mind, Futaba-chan?”
 
Joining her on the couch, Futaba whipped out her smartphone and said, “Let’s cut to the chase.”  She opened up a screenshot taken from Maiko’s interview video, showing Ann in her dance class. “Is this you?”
 
Ann recoiled and gasped when she saw herself.  “Yes… But how did you find this?”
 
“Well, first things first…  I’ve been doing belly dancing too.”
 
Ann had to keep herself from laughing in disbelief, “Get out!  Really?”
 
“Yup!  Kind of a secret hobby, though.  The only other person I’ve told this to was Sojiro-san, and that was only yesterday, but I’ve been doing it for over a year now.”
 
“You’ve sure got a lot of interesting secrets, Futaba-chan!”, Ann said, permitting herself to let out a small giggle.
 
“So what about you, Ann-chan?  When did you start?”
 
“I also started a year ago, after I got into modelling.  My manager said it had lots of benefits: exercise, confidence, and sexy poise.”  She added a sultry emphasis to her voice for the last point.
 
“Well, that checks out.  The clip I showed you from was from about six months ago.”
 
“Oh yeah,” recalled Ann.  “I remember a TV crew visiting one of our lessons one time.  I guess that’s where that’s from.”
 
“Apart from that, have you ever performed?  Like on a stage, in front of other people?”
 
“Yes, once.  Our class had a recital, so we each had solo performances plus a group routine.”
 
“Ooh!”, Futaba said with great interest.  “You got any video of that?”
 
“Probably, but I’ve never checked…”  Ann trailed off, looking away with a sad gleam in her eyes.
 
Futaba failed to take the hint.  “How come?” she innocently asked.
 
“I… don’t wanna talk about it right now…”
 
The weight of the matter eventually hit Futaba.  “Kamoshida?” she guessed.
 
Ann gasped.  “What…? I never told you about…!”
 
“You forget.  I bugged this place long ago.  I heard you mention his name a couple times, and when I looked him up…”
 
Futaba had of course heard about Suguru Kamoshida, a bully of a volleyball coach with delusions of grandeur.  Always the one to try to get what he wanted, what he felt he deserved, nothing seemed to bother him in terms of consequences, so long as it did not touch him.  He drove one of Ann's friends to particular extremes and seemed intent on making sure Ann gave him “special favours”, something that brought her particular pain and torment until the Phantom Thieves emerged on the scene.  In the context of their current conversation, Futaba concluded, it was likely that Ann was afraid of Kamoshida finding out about her interest in baladi and pressuring her into giving private performances.
 
“Yeah… pretty much a grade-A douche-nozzle from what I’ve read up on him.  That was bull…” She caught herself about to use a swear. “That was bogus, what he did to you.  You were right to take a break from baladi back then. If someone tries to get you to dance in a place or in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, that’s no good.  No one has the right to ogle you if you don’t want them to! But, now that he’s gone, it would suck if you let it take over your life and keep you from enjoying yourself.  I mean, that’s why I tried out belly dancing. To take my mind off my mother.”
 
“Really?  That worked?”
 
“Yeah… kind of… off-and-on.  Don’t know how long I would’ve lasted without it, that’s for sure.  But hey, we’re both past that now, so have you ever thought of rejoining classes?”
 
“Well, after Kamoshida, the Phantom Thieves happened, and I kinda just shifted my focus on that.”
 
“That makes sense, I guess.  But it’s not like we’re going into Palaces or Mementos every day…  Hey! Maybe we could go back and take classes together! You know, if we’ve got time along with the whole Phantom Thieves thing.”
 
“Well…”  Ann pondered this possibility.  “I suppose if I had a friend join me, I’d be more motivated to keep on going.  And Goodness knows I could use the exercise, especially if I wanna get back into modelling!”
 
“That’s the spirit!”
 
“Oh, but first, we’ve gotta get you some decent workout clothes.  When you’ve got time, let’s join up after school and go shopping!”
 
“Why not just buy the clothes online?” proffered Futaba.
 
“Hey!  Don’t you know that seeing and feeling the thing you’re buying is the most important part of shopping?”
 
“I don’t know… sounds pretty inefficient to me.”
 
“Aw, come on, Futaba-chan!  It’ll be fun spending some bonding time together!”  Trying to put it in terms Futaba would understand, Ann added, “And, you’ll build up experience points for living out in the real world…!”
 
“Hmm…” pondered Futaba.  “Now you’re speakin’ my language!  Got any place in mind?”
 
“I know a great place in Shibuya.  It’s a sporting goods store just off of Central Street”.
 
“Sounds good. Maybe we can make a date of it!”
 
“If that’s what you wanna call it, I guess so!  Anyway, I looked up Maiko’s class online. It starts next week, and it’s every Wednesday and Friday for six weeks.  She takes beginner and intermediate skill levels, which is good since we’ve both already got some experience. At the end of the course, we have the option to perform in a recital if we, and she, think we’re up to it.”
 
“Well, I’ve made up my own routine, so I’m already halfway there!”
 
“Sweet!  Say, before we go, would you mind showing it to me?”
 
“...Sure, I guess.  I’ve already shown it to Sojiro, and he liked it.”
 
“What did he say when you said you did belly dance?”
 
“He was actually pretty accepting, given that I’ve only been doing it for myself so far.”
 
“You’re really lucky to have him as a father.”
 
Futaba sighed.  The truth was more complicated than that, but on this and many other occasions, there was no doubting the warm and fuzzy feelings he gave her.  “Yeah… I guess you’re right. Do you want to see my routine?”
 
“Ooh!  May I?”
 
“Sure!”  Futaba started to roll her tank-top up to reveal her tummy, but stopped mid-way when she caught Ann reaching into her purse for her smartphone.  “...What are you doing, Ann?”
 
“Uh…  Is it okay if I recorded you, so we could show the other guys?  You know, without having to do it over again?”
 
“NO.  No. Freaking.  Way.” Futaba’s voice and expression turned deadly serious.  “If I see any footage of me dancing posted online without my prior approval, I swear, I will quit the Phantom Thieves and leak the identities of you and all the others to the public.  Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”
 
“Geez!  Alright, already!  I’m sorry, I’ll put the phone away!”, she pleaded while doing so.  She felt like she was trying to talk a friend down from jumping to their death, which wouldn’t be the first time for her.
 
As soon as Futaba was sure that Ann’s phone was safely stowed in her purse, her expression turned on a dime to cheery.  “Thank you!” For good measure, she also put her trusty laptop into sleep mode and shut the cover. “And now… Prepare to be enchanted!”
 
And with that, Futaba set up her own phone to play the song, and once again performed her dance to it.  She felt far less awkward than the last time around, partly because of her previous experience dancing for somebody else, and partly because her audience this time around was not an adult of the opposite gender.  After she held her ending flourish for a few seconds, Ann applauded wildly and called out, “OMG! You are so awesome!”
 
“Thank you, thank you!” Futaba replied with a bow.
 
“Hey, I know where that song’s from, too!”  She confirmed her knowledge of the genie-girl game.
 
“No.  Way! How did you even get those games?  You can’t download them in Japan yet!”
 
“Oh, I bought my handheld while I was living in America, so I can use the download shop over there and still buy game cards over here!”
 
“Wicked!  We have so much to discuss, Ann-chan.  But for now,” Futaba continued as she sat down next to Ann, “How ‘bout you show me some of your own dancing?”
 
“I kinda forgot my own routine from back in the day…” admitted Ann.
 
“So?”  Futaba gave Ann a pat on the back.  “Let’s just wing it!”
 
And so, the two girls had loads of fun practising random moves together, until they were eventually booted out of the loft when Ren returned for the night.  They parted ways, both eager for their upcoming outing together, and where their shared passion for baladi would take them.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Wednesday, 14 September 20XX, Evening

Sakura household, Yongen-Jaya

The following evening, Futaba was home alone as per usual, once again hacking away at her visual-novel project, when, out of nowhere, she heard a familiar jingle.  It was the level-up music from a classic role-playing video game, and it also happened to serve as her cellphone’s incoming-text chime. With cat-like reflexes, she reached over and flicked her phone’s screen to life.

ANN
: hiya Futaba-chan

FUTABA
: what’s up

ANN
: i was thinking we could go out to Maiko’s studio and sign up for the class together

FUTABA
: great!  what time do you want me to meet you?

ANN
: right now, silly

FUTABA
: wut

ANN
: im outside your house rn

FUTABA
: oh crud, already?

FUTABA
: i’ll be right out

And so Futaba saved her work, shut down her computer, and hastily dashed out to the front hall, barely saving herself from tripping down the stairs.  Once she laced her sneakers on and opened the front door, she was greeted by the sight of Ann, who had not changed out of her summer school uniform, alongside Sojiro.  “Ann-chan!” she greeted her friend, hugging her in a great big glomp.
 
“Good to see you, Futaba!” Ann replied cheerily.
 
Glancing up at her adoptive father, Futaba asked, “Sojiro?  What are you doing here?”
 
“I thought I’d tag along, just to make sure this dance class is on the up-and-ups.  Don’t worry about Leblanc; I got Ren to cover for me.”
 
“Are you sure that’s okay?” asked Ann.
 
“I’ve taught him the ropes.  And besides, if he was able to help you with your problems, Futaba, he must be a fine guy after all!”
 
Futaba blushed.  The boy she knew as Joker had done so much for her, healing her darker desires and helping her get accustomed to the outside world once more.  He was certainly one of the best friends she ever had in her entire life. Maybe she even had deeper feelings for him, but if she did, she didn’t recognise them at the moment.
 
“Just let me lock up first.”  Which he did, walking inside to pick up a house key and locking the front door with it.  Turning back to Ann, Sojiro asked, “So, where is this place?”
 
“It’s not far from here.  About five minutes on foot.”
 
“Well, that’s convenient,” chimed in Futaba.  “Allons-y!” Ann and Sojiro both stared at her in confused silence.  “...I guess you’re not much into British sci-fi,” she sheepishly explained.  “Anyway, let’s just go!”
 
Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio
 
It took twice as long as it should have for the party to find their destination, as the warren of backstreets that was Yongen-Jaya proved too confusing for Ann to navigate from memory alone.  But, a couple of checks of her phone’s GPS map later, they found the place. The dance studio was part of a nondescript multi-storeyed building, with its name printed among a list of each floor’s tenants posted at the front entrance.  Each listing was indistinguishable from the others, and if it weren’t for Futaba’s keen observation skills, they would have missed it entirely.
 
Once satisfied that they had reached their destination, they entered the building and took an elevator to the fifth floor, where the studio was located.  The hall they were let out into had three doors. The first, to their left, was a locker room, where several girls entered wearing their everyday clothes, and came out in leotards, tights, and other forms of activewear.  These girls streamed out to the central door, which must have been the studio itself. Futaba guessed, correctly, that they had just walked into the start of a ballet class. Instead of following them, Ann led the Sakuras to the door on the right, beyond which lay an administration office.
 
The office was currently staffed by two women.  The first was a dour-looking woman, with her reddish hair done up in a neat bun and a pair of narrow, cat’s-eye-shaped glasses resting atop her nose.  From the way she looked at the girls on her way out, she apparently did not have a good first impression of them.
 
“Don’t worry about her,” came a voice from the other adult in the room.  “She doesn’t think much of me or my class.” She turned to face her new guests, only to do a double-take when she actually saw them.  “Takamaki-san…?” There was no mistaking this woman’s identity. She may have toned down the makeup and put on a smart-casual dress, but there was no mistaking the controlled-yet-fierce hair, nor her overall beauty.
 
It was Maiko, in the flesh.
 
She stood up and said to Ann, “Oh, it’s good to see you again!”
 
“Same here, Maiko-sensei!”  It took all of Ann’s willpower not to rush over and give her a hug, so she settled with a slight bow.  “Guys, this is Maiko…” She blanked out on her last name, unsure if she had even learned it in the first place.
 
“Kawabata.  You can just call me Maiko if you like.”  Maiko returned the bow, and gave another one to both of the Sakuras.
 
“Cool!  This is my friend, Futaba.”  Indicating Sojiro, she added, “And her…”
 
“Father”, he filled in.  “Name’s Sakura. Sojiro Sakura.  I saw you on TV not too long ago, on one of those morning talk shows.”
 
“Oh yes, I remember doing that.”
 
“I’ve got to say, I like the way you presented yourself and your craft.”
 
“Thank you, that’s very nice of you to say that!”  Turning her attention to Ann, Maiko asked, “So Ann-chan, how have you been doing?  It’s been so long since the last time I saw you. Have you still been dancing?”
 
“No… I don’t wanna talk about it.  It’s kinda… problematic.”
 
“

Hashtag

problematic”, added Futaba.
 
“Ah.  Say no more,” Maiko said.  She didn’t quite know what Ann was talking about, but she knew better than to press on.
 
“But,” continued Ann, “I’m OK now, and my friend and I would like to sign up for your belly dance class!”
 
“That’s right!” Futaba responded, nodding in consensus with her friend.
 
“Do you have any prior experience, Futaba-san?”
 
“Oh, yeah.  I’ve been practising on my own for about a year now.  It’s helped me get through my own problems in life. Again, ‘hashtag problematic’,” she added with finger-quotes.
 
Sojiro giggled.  “Is that what you kids say these days?”
 
“Pretty much.”  Focusing back on Maiko, she continued, “But yeah, I’ve taught myself to dance, and I even made up my own routine!  Would you like to see it?”
 
“Oh, that’s wonderful!  But, it will have to wait.  As you may have seen, the other ballet class just started, and we wouldn’t want to intrude on them.  Maybe you could stay over after your first lesson and show me then.”
 
“Sounds like a plan!”
 
“Not so fast, Futaba”, Sojiro cut in.  “Maiko-san, could you tell us what your classes are like?”
 
“Sure, Sojiro-san.  The course meets on Wednesdays and Fridays at 19:00, and lasts an hour, give or take.  We’ll all start with some stretching, and then move onto drills for different moves. It will be a small class; there are slots for only six students, and as luck would have it, you two would have the last ones available.”
 
“Wow, lucky us!”  Ann beamed. She had often considered herself fortunate, from her natural good looks and high metabolism which had allowed her to model without too much effort, to the high luck stat of her Persona.  Of course, this blessing wasn’t true all the time, especially during the Kamoshida incident, but things had been especially favourable since then. If only she were old enough to play the lottery...
 
Maiko went on, “There’s something else you should know.  My students have the option of performing in a recital after the last class.  I’ll meet with each of you separately after each session, and we’ll plan and practise a routine together.  I’ve got plenty of music to choose from, unless you have your own. Of course, you’ll need to practise it on your own time.  But if you find the work to be too hard, I’ll let you drop out of the recital, at no charge.”
 
“What about costumes?” asked Sojiro.
 
“I have costumes you girls can borrow for the recital, or you can make your own.  You’ll have to show it to me first; we wouldn’t want you to wear anything too revealing on stage!”
 
“And to me”, Sojiro added.  “What would you recommend for the lessons themselves?”
 
“Oh…” pondered Maiko.  “Any workout clothes will do.  Sweatpants or tights, and a sports bra or tank-top.  You don’t even have to show your midriff, although it might be a good idea, so you can see how well you’re doing belly rolls and moves like that.  The class is girls-only, so you don’t have to worry about showing yourself off.”
 
Sojiro sighed in relief.  “That’s a load off my mind.”
 
“I’ve also got coin sashes you can wear.  In addition to helping indicate how you’re shaking your hips, they will also identify your rank compared to other students.  I give out different colours for different skill levels, kind of like the belts they use in martial arts. It’s not an official system, just something I came up with myself.  Beginners start with blue, then white, purple, black, and finally, red… if you’re able to take over my spot as teacher, that is,” she added with a laugh.
 
“Sounds cool!” Ann responded.  “I was just about to take Futaba-chan out to buy some clothes for her first lesson.”
 
“So, I take it you’re both ready to sign up?”
 
“Yup!” Futaba answered.  “...If it’s okay with you, Sojiro?”
 
“Seems like a fine establishment to me.  Go ahead, Futaba.”
 
“Then that’s my final answer, Maiko-sensei!”
 
“Okay, I like your enthusiasm!  Now, you’ll have to pay up-front; it’s ninety-eight hundred yen for each of you.  Do you have the money now, or do you need to come back? I can hold your spots for you.”
 
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Futaba said as she reached into her pockets for her wallet.
 
But before she could pull out any money, Sojiro laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “I’ve got this, Futaba.  You save your money for your new clothes.”
 
“Really?  Thank you, Sojiro!”
 
Sojiro produced a credit card from his own wallet, while Ann pulled out a card of her own.  After their payments were processed, Maiko handed them a couple of forms to fill out. They wrote down their names and other demographic information, Sojiro signed to indicate parental approval on Futaba’s form, and finally, indicated whether they intended to perform in the recital, to which both girls answered “yes”.
 
When they handed the forms back, Maiko filed them away said, “And that takes care of everything.  I look forward to seeing you on Friday!”
 
“Same to you!” chipped in Futaba.
 
“Pleasure meeting you, Maiko-san”, added Sojiro.  “And by the way, ever been to a place called Cafe Leblanc?”
 
“Hmm…  Can’t say I have.”
 
“Well, I own the place.  Got some great coffee and curry.  It’s right here in Yongen-Jaya, so maybe when you’ve got some time off--”
 
“C’mon, Sojiro!”  Futaba playfully whined.  She was equally antsy to leave and embarrassed over her adoptive father’s attempts at flirting.
 
“I’ll look you up and give you a visit some time,” Maiko said to conclude the conversation.  “And I’ll see you two girls on Friday!”
 
“Can’t wait!” Futaba said as she began to skip out the door.
 
“Looking forward to it!” chimed in Ann.
 
“Pleasure to meet you, Maiko-san!”, added Sojiro, leaving with a bow.  Maiko returned the bow, leaving her new guests to anticipate the time they would all spend together.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Wednesday, 21 September 20XX, Evening

Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio

After a full, hard week of sleuthing work to find both Morgana and a target for their next big change of heart, Futaba and Ann were looking forward to their first belly dance lesson with Maiko.  In order to make time for them, they needed to ensure they would not be headed to the Metaverse on the same days as their lessons, or else they would be in no shape to do both in one night. However, they still weren’t confident enough to share their true intentions with the other Phantom Thieves.  Instead, Ann just said that she had modelling work to take care of on Wednesdays and Fridays. As the leader of the Phantom Thieves, Ren consented, but warned that if it got too close to the deadline, he would need them above all other priorities.
 
In between their thieving exploits and practising to keep their dancing skills honed, they managed to find time to shop for new workout wear.  Ann took Futaba out to a large sporting goods store just off of Shibuya’s Central Street. Within the depths of its tightly-packed fitness section, one particular set captured Futaba’s interest: a sports bra and capri-length yoga pants, both off-black with bright green lines stitched along the sides.  It reminded her of her Metaverse costume, a fact which she had to remind herself not to mention aloud. But similarities aside, the outfit was tight, but in an exciting way, as if just putting it on had awakened a hitherto dormant side of her, a wild, athletic side. In terms of experiences she was actually familiar with, it felt like awakening to a brand-new Persona.
 
With their apparel ready and their leave secured, Ann met Futaba at her house at a quarter to seven the following evening.  She wore her short-skirted school uniform and had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, presumably containing her workout clothes.  This time around, Futaba was prepared to meet her, and came outside with her own workout clothes already underneath her everyday outfit.  Together, they found their way to the dance studio, navigating considerably more confidently than last time, went up to the fifth floor, changed in the locker room, and stepped into the studio itself.
 
The studio was well-equipped to handle multiple styles of dance, and several non-dance activities as well.  Its wooden floor was laminated and buffed to a near-reflective sheen, but not quite as much so as the floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining two of the walls, bisected by a continuous balance barre broken only by the door to the hallway.  One wall was bare, with mats and other equipment piled alongside, and one was filled out by darkened windows. Luckily, the building across the street wasn’t tall enough for anyone there to get a good look inside, even if the windows weren’t tinted as such.
 
Standing in the centre of the room were Maiko and the other four students.  The girls, talking amongst themselves, were all dressed in similar workout clothes as Futaba and Ann, along with hip scarves adorned with gilded plastic coins and coloured in unique semi-transparent hues.  Unlike the younger students, Maiko chose not to bare her midriff, instead wearing a tight black t-shirt, soft flared pants, and a red hip scarf. She was the first to recognise Futaba and Ann as they approached the group.  “Good evening, everyone!” she said with a bow. “My name is Maiko, and for the next six weeks, I will instruct you in the art of

raqs baladi

, or, what you would call belly dancing.  First, let’s go around the room, to introduce each other, and share what got you interested in baladi to begin with.”
 
Maiko motioned to the young woman on her right side.  She looked to be in her mid-twenties, easily the oldest of the students on hand.  “Hello,” she said with a cautious bow, “My name’s Atsuko Saito.” Her tall, busty, and sensuous figure was similar to Ann’s, albeit with a more sharply-toned stomach.  She was the only one present wearing a purple coin scarf, which indicated her seniority and skill. Despite her status, she played with her copper-coloured ponytail in a pose implying a lack of confidence.  “This is my third class with Maiko-sensei. I want to become a professional baladi dancer in order to help people understand that it’s not just… you know… entertainment for men.”
 
“That’s very noble of you, Atsuko-san,” Maiko said in encouragement.
 
Hearing Atsuko’s name triggered a recollection in Ann.  “She was in this class with me last year,” she whispered to Futaba.  When she sensed a break in Atsuko’s speech, she gave her a friendly wave.
 
“Oh!  Ann-chan!”  Atsuko smiled coyly.
 
“Ah, forgive me for butting in.  I’m Ann Takamaki, and I’m a part-time model.”  This statement elicited a few oohs and ahs from the other girls.  “I’ve taken one of these classes before, to help me out with modelling, but my friend here,” she indicated to Futaba, “also got into belly dance herself, so I thought I’d join in with her.”  She patted Futaba on the shoulder, prompting her to introduce herself.
 
“Hi, I’m Futaba Sakura.  Believe it or not, I’ve taught myself belly dance over the past year or so.  I was interested in ancient Egypt since I was little, but later on I found out how baladi also came out of Egypt, and thought it would be good for me to try.”  She felt it prudent to leave out the part about how it also helped her cope with the loss of her mother.
 
The remaining three girls introduced themselves after Futaba.  All three of them looked to be closer to Ann’s age, and all three wore blue hip scarves.  The first, named Ayame, had black, pixie-cut hair, and a taut, athletic figure, with a faint six-pack chiseled into exposed stomach. She said she was an aspiring track athlete, and was seeking out new forms of exercise to spice up her training regimen.  Ann wondered if Ryuji might be interested in meeting her.
 
Next up was Yuki, who had long, straight, brown hair, and a figure that was somewhat more plump than the other girls.  She said she was studying Arabic literature and culture in university, and wanted to take up belly dancing to gain more first-hand insight on her field of study.  Futaba considered her as a potential friend prospect of her own.
 
Finally was Honoka, a bubbly high school student, just barely taller than Futaba, with dyed-blonde hair asymmetrically tied up in a single ponytail on her left side.  Despite her apparent personality, she was less garrulous than the other girls, and simply said she thought belly dance looked fun.
 
“Thank you, Honoka-san.  Those are all wonderful reasons for getting into baladi, everyone, and I hope you all get what you want out of it.  My name is, of course, Maiko, and I’ve trained and performed as a professional dancer for twenty years while living in Egypt.  When I finally moved back to Japan, I decided to share my experiences by teaching classes like this one.” Atsuko smiled again, her mind brightened by the thought of doing something similar someday.
 
“Now,” Maiko continued, “who here has taken one of my classes before?”  All but Futaba and Honoka raised their hands. For the beginners among the students, she went on to describe the class structure as she had done for Futaba during their sign-up meeting.  After explaining her system of hip-scarf-based ranking, she bestowed Ann with a white scarf and Futaba with a blue one. Futaba was disappointed that her prior experience didn’t qualify her for a higher rank, but she thought better of complaining for the moment.  She would just have to demonstrate her talent for the teacher, she reasoned.
 
With everybody introduced, Maiko began the lesson with some stretches.  These started with simple warm-ups for the neck, arms, and shoulders, before leading into more intense torso and leg stretches.  Besides the teacher, Atsuko and Ayame exhibited the best flexibility among all the students, both able to achieve perfect middle splits with their chests lying flat on the floor.  Futaba, not so much. “Wow, you think you’d be more flexible,” teased Ann, “since you like to sit with your knees hunched up to your chest.”
 
“Of course you’d say that,” Futaba snarked in response, “since you keep bending forward all the time in… you-know-where,”
 
“Ixnay on the anther-Pay”, Ann softly warned.  Despite their shortcomings in flexibility, no one else mocked them for it, and all the stretching even felt good once the initial pain reflex wore off.
 
Once everybody finished their stretches, the lesson began in earnest.  “The key talent of the belly dancer,” Maiko described, “is to be able to control all parts of the body separately from each other.  In order to do that, however, we should start with the basic movements.” To that effect, she demonstrated a few motions, and explained the steps that went into each of them.  Bending the knee to do a hip lift or drop. Wiggling the knees forward and back in rapid succession to do a hip shimmy. Sliding the chest forward, up, back, and down in sequence to do an undulation.
 
From there, Maiko went on to explain different types of steps, arm motions, and hand positions that were common in baladi.  “Combinations of these elements, even the basic ones, are what make each person’s dance unique.” To demonstrate this concept, she introduced hip steps, in which the twisting motion of the dancer’s hips put her front leg in position to step forward.  A sequence of these could allow the dancer to cover ground across the stage without breaking the flow of her dance. “You’ve got a whole stage to work with, after all,” Maiko joked, “so don’t let it go to waste!”
 
The students all followed along to the best of their abilities.  Even to the more advanced students, this proved to be a valuable warm-up, especially for Ann, who had not done any dancing to speak of in months.  Along the way, Maiko went over to anyone who seemed to be struggling, and gave them some hands-on course correction. This approach helped to keep everybody on an even pace.  For example, whenever Futaba tried undulations before, she had not been able to watch and correct herself; she just got them to a point where they “felt” right. But somehow, the order in which she made her individual motions made it look like she was doing them completely backwards, like her belly was rolling upwards instead of down.  Maiko seemed to exhibit saint-like patience as she pointed out what they were doing wrong and how they could correct themselves. It wasn’t enough to completely fix their mistakes by the lesson’s end, but they were in a good place to start working on them later.
 
When the lesson was over for the day, Maiko invited everyone who wished to participate in the recital to stay afterwards and plan their routines.  All of the students raised their hand to indicate their interest, except for one… Atsuko. Everyone was surprised most of all when she stated so. “Are you sure?” Maiko inquired.  “Not to put down anyone else, but you’re one of our most talented dancers.”
 
But Atsuko merely gave an apologetic bow and responded, “I’m sorry, but I have… other commitments.”
 
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Maiko said sympathetically.  “I understand if you’re unable to join, but let me know if you change your mind.  I’d be happy to have you perform with us.”
 
“I would, too…” she answered, before leaving the room, her expression falling morose.
 
“Well…” Maiko said to no one in particular, “it can’t be helped.  Don’t worry about them, though. I have other professional performers I can book as well, so even if none of you wished to join, I’d still be able to put on a decent show.  But for now, we’ll start with you, Futaba-chan. Did you have something you wanted to show me?”
 
Ann gave Futaba a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “Yes, Maiko-sensei. Are you ready to see the routine I made?”
 
“Go ahead.”
 
“Great!  Just let me get something from my locker.”  Futaba dashed out of the room, and came back a minute later, clutching her smartphone.  “I’ve been putting this baby together for the past couple of months. The routine, I mean.”  Although as far as Ann knew, the little tech wizard could have been talking about building her own phone from scratch instead.
 
“Wonderful!  And you have your own music, too?”
 
“Yup!”  Futaba glanced over to a wireless speaker set resting on a small table.  “Could I use that?"
 
“Of course.”
 
Futaba strode over to the speakers.  She didn’t want to hook it up her phone wirelessly, whether because of time-consuming frustration which could occur when setting up this sort of thing, or security fears about letting her devices connect to those of a stranger’s.  Fortunately, there was also an auxiliary cable hooked up to the speakers, which she plugged in to her phone’s headphone jack before setting up her song and performing her routine. When she finished, her teacher and classmates applauded in unison.  “That was beautiful, Futaba-chan!” Maiko praised.
 
“Thank you, Maiko-sensei,” Futaba responded, bowing politely.
 
“You know, that’s not the first time someone’s used music from that game in a performance.  In fact, I believe Ann-san did so for her first recital.”
 
Futaba gasped in awe.  “Really?”
 
Ann recalled that fact instantly.  “That’s right!”
 
“We’ve gotta track down that video of your show!”
 
Now that someone had broken the ice about her dancing history, she finally felt comfortable revisiting her past.  “Sure thing, Futaba-chan!”
 
Returning to the subject at hand, Maiko gave some gentle criticisms about Futaba’s demonstration.  “Now, Futaba, your routine was kind of repetitive, and there were bits where your arms moved along with the rest of your body.  But don’t worry, those are things we can work on together. I think you’ve got a good framework for your routine, and the fact that you came up with it all by yourself is amazing!”
 
Addressing the other students, Maiko asked if anyone else had their own routines to demonstrate.  No one else indicated that they had. “That’s no problem,” she responded, “just look for a video of a performance you think you might be able to recreate, and we can go over it one-on-one.  Have it ready for our next class on Tuesday. In the meantime, be sure to practise what we went over tonight, so we can hit the ground running next time. I’m sure we all had fun, but six weeks will be over sooner than you know it!”
 
Maiko was right about one thing.  The girls under her tutelage were, indeed, having fun.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tuesday, 4 October 20XX, Evening

Cafe Leblanc, Yongen-Jaya

Under Joker’s savvy guidance, the Phantom Thieves were able to balance their intrusion into their latest Palace with Ann and Futaba’s secret commitments.  Making steady progress, they sent the Calling Card and fought for its Treasure with more than a week to spare. After returning from the Palace, feeling strained yet satisfied, the team held a short debriefing meeting at their hideout in Cafe Leblanc’s attic, and then they went their separate ways.  Ann and Futaba, however, chose to stay behind and discuss matters of their own. Ordering coffee and cake sets from Sojiro, they sat down together in one of the empty booths. Going straight for her slice of cake, Ann asked of her friend, “Wow, that was some fight. Say Futaba-chan, what do you think of Haru?”
 
“Oh… she’s cute, refined, cultured, a little bit psycho, and… floofy.”
 
“Yeah, I pretty much got that impression myself-- wait, did you say

psycho

!?”
 
“Well, she’s packin’ an axe and a grenade launcher.  Something tells me she enjoys beating up Shadows a little too much...”
 
“Let’s not dwell on that, Futaba-chan,” Ann nervously interjected, eager to change the uncomfortable subject.  “Do you think she might like to try belly dancing with us?”
 
Futaba almost wished she hadn’t changed the topic of conversation to that.  “Maybe, but… I kinda don’t want to tell anyone else for now.”
 
“How come?” Ann asked innocently.
 
“It’s just that…”  Futaba struggled to find the right words.  “We know there’s more to belly dance than getting half-naked and strutting our stuff, but a lot of other people don’t know that.  If Haru, or even Makoto, found out we were doing this, they might think less of us. Like, that we’re uncultured, or unfeminist, or un… something.”
 
“Don’t worry about all that, Futaba-chan.  Makoto and Haru are our friends, and they’ll be there for us no matter what we do.  If you give them a chance to see us perform real belly dancing, I’m sure they’ll appreciate the good things and not care about the bad.”
 
“I guess…  But what about Ryuji?  Surely he’d get all pervy and stuff?”
 
“Ryuji-kun?  Yeah, I understand your problem, but he’s okay too.  He can be a dumb meathead from time to time, but he’s actually really kind and caring once you get to know him.  It was his idea to form the Phantom Thieves, you know. He didn’t want anybody else to suffer under cruel people like Kamoshida.”
 
“Wow, I… didn’t know that about him.”
 
“And Yusuke?  ...On second thought, I think I already know the problem with him.”  She then went on to tell the tale from their second Palace mission, where she had to model for Yusuke, only to show up wearing layers upon layers of clothes in order to stall for time, not to mention maintain as much of her dignity as possible.
 
Hearing this story for the first time, Futaba guffawed with laughter.  “Man, that would make for one heck of a ‘dance of seven veils’! Oh, that reminds me!  Have you found a routine to perform at our recital?”
 
“No, I haven’t,” Ann sighed.  “Six weeks just seems like long time away, you know?”
 
“Well, take it from me, a dance routine isn’t just something you can whip up overnight.  Here, maybe we can find something together.” Both of them pulled out their smartphones in unison, and conducted separate searches for belly dance videos that Ann might be able to emulate.
 
A few minutes passed until Ann said, “Ooh!  This looks like an interesting one!”, and shared her phone with Futaba.  The dancer in the video wore a glittering blue and silver costume as she gyrated her hips in all sorts of directions while gracefully waving her arms up and down.  It was a long performance, too, lasting just about nine minutes.
 
“Aah… That looks wicked cool, Ann-chan!  But, are you sure you’re up for it?”
 
“You know it’s just for inspiration, right?  I’m sure Maiko and I can trim it down to something more manageable.”
 
While they were engrossed in the video, the bell hanging from the door rang in announcement of someone entering the cafe.  “Hey, Sojiro, I left my bag here and-- oh hey, Ann! Futaba! What’cha up to?” Ryuji Sakamoto had just paid a visit, and was leaning down on the table beside the girls.
 
“Do you mind?” Futaba asked, annoyed at the intrusion into her personal space.
 
Ryuji acted like he hadn’t heard her, and stole a glance at the video playing on Ann’s phone before she had a chance to shut the screen off or escape to the home screen.  “So, what’cha looking at, Ann-chan…?” He briefly fell silent as he witnessed the spectacle on-screen, a wide, lusty grin steadily spreading across his face. “Sooo… you like the ladies, eh?  Niiiice…!” The prospect of Ann being into other girls filled his imagination with many exciting possibilities. And, Ryuji being Ryuji, the thought that this meant they wouldn’t be interested in him failed to cross his mind.
 
“No, it’s not like that at all!  We were just… Ah…” Ann was playing up her innocent, ditzy charm in an unguided attempt to defuse the situation, but could not come up with a plausible excuse.
 
Boldly, Futaba interjected, “Just tell him, Ann.  He’ll only come up with worse assumptions if we let him.”
 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Ryuji.
 
Ignoring him, Ann sighed.  “I guess you’re right. Ryuji…”  She puffed out a short breath to steel her nerves.  “Futaba and I are both into belly dance.”
 
“So, ya like watching it, or…?”
 
“Nope,” affirmed Futaba.  “We’ve been practising it separately for a while now, and just started taking classes together.”
 
Ryuji paused, then laughed uproariously.  “For real?” The girls meekly nodded in unison.  “Like, I could imagine Ann, but you too, Futaba?”
 
His teasing and overbearing attitude, regardless of his benign intentions, made Futaba feel uncomfortable.  “Y… yeah,” she stammered, “You heard me.”
 
“No way!  I mean, no offence, but you’re way too clumsy for that sorta thing!”
 
“That’s why I’m practising,” she retorted, barely keeping her mounting frustration in check.
 
“So…?  Who’s the lucky dude?”
 
Her eyebrow twitched as she responded, “What are you talking about?”
 
“I mean, you gotta be stripping to get some guy’s attention!  Let me guess… is it Yusuke?”
 
Her voice steadily rose in intensity.  “I’m not doing this to be sexy, Ryuji.”
 
“Nah, you two got a love-hate rivalry thing going on…  Oh! Wait, I got it… You like Ren-ren, don’t ya?”
 
It’s true that Futaba had some feelings for the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but they were mostly platonic.  He had shown her unconditional kindness and compassion during a time when she needed it the most. And for Ryuji to insinuate that there was something more to it all was the final straw.  Suddenly, she shot up from her seat and slammed her palms on the table. “For your information, Ryuji”, she shouted, “I only started dancing to keep me happy and sane after my frickin’ mom died!”
 
“Hey, man!” Ryuji said in a panic.  “I was just askin’ a friendly question, is all!”
 
“Futaba,” Ann urged, “keep your voice down--”
 
Futaba paid her no heed.  “It was either that, or frickin’ kill myself!”
 
Her words slammed into Ryuji like a brick wall.  He stood in stunned silence for moments, unable to formulate a response.  Then, he flashed back upon what they discovered about Futaba in her own palace, upon the trials she had to endure after her mother’s passing.  “Geez…” he said weakly. “I’m sorry, Futaba. I guess you’re not effing around, huh.”
 
Futaba said nothing; she just stared up at him in an intense glare.  Ann, however, was desperate to defuse the tension between the two. “Look, I’m sure we’re all just tired from running around the Metaverse all day.  Let’s all go home, have a good rest, and we can tell you more about it later.”
 
“Whatever…” Ryuji said with a sigh.
 
Ann volunteered to lead him out the door.  On their way out, she whispered to him, “And by the way, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our little secret to the other Thieves, or anyone at all really.”
 
“Yeah… Wouldn’t want the little tyke-bomb to go off again.”
 
Ann was not amused.  She dismissed him with a firm “Good night, Ryuji”, before closing the door behind him and returning to her other friend.
 
“Ugh…” groaned Futaba.  “You see what I mean?”
 
“Yeah, you do have a point…” Ann agreed.  “But just give him a little more time. He’ll appreciate what we’re doing sooner or later.”
 
Futaba sat in silence, pondering to herself if that was true after all.  After a moment’s pause, she gasped in sudden realisation. “Wait a minute!  Ryuji never picked up the stuff he left here!”
 
“It’s okay,” answered Ann, “I’ll just give it to him when I see him at school tomorrow.  It’s not like he was gonna finish his homework anyway!”
 
“Oh, that Ryuji…”  Futaba chuckled at the shade she just threw, and that made her feel a little better.  “See ya tomorrow, Ann-chan! Let me know if you find any more routines to practise!”
 
“Can do!” Ann affirmed as she gave Futaba a good-bye wave.

Red-Light District, Shinjuku

Later that night, in an underground cabaret club across town, another of Maiko’s students had just wrapped up a performance of her own.  Only a couple of hours ago, she was the mild-mannered Atsuko Saito. But for the moment, she had adopted a completely different persona: that of Atsu-Atsu, the Scorching Beauty.  Her particular form of belly dance was considerably more salacious in nature than what her classmates were practising. To be blunt, most men who paid to watch her on stage would see her as nothing more than an exotic  stripper.
 
Atsuko had not intended for her career in belly dance to go like this.  She wanted to become a respectable performer, like Maiko. But, it seemed, her craft just wasn’t as widely understood and appreciated in Japan.  Shortly after her first lessons with Maiko wrapped up, she received a mysterious e-mail offering her work as a dancer. Fresh out of college and unable to find other work, she accepted the offer.  That offer took her to an underground cabaret club off of Kabuki-cho, the red-light district of Shinjuku, where every night she performed a burlesque version of her belly dance routines.
 
Her costume, such as it was, was so scanty it would barely be considered suitable beachwear.  Her minuscule bikini was bedecked with gaudy beads which jiggled with each movement she made. The silicone implants within her bosoms only served to accentuate those two facts.  Hanging from her thong panties were a pair of narrow, semi-transparent silks, which could only be considered a skirt in the most forgiving definition of the term. Its fiery orange hue matched the dye in her recoloured ponytail.  This ensemble was complemented by a pair of open-toed, five-inch-heeled stilettos, various golden bracelets hanging on her wrists and ankles, and a veil draped below her eyes. She was at least thankful for this last addition, since she hoped it would obscure her identity from anybody who knew her outside the club, as well as hide the sad facial expressions she sometimes fell into when giving these demeaning performances.
 
The reason for her malaise came from her manager, who created her new sexed-up image, skimmed off a sizeable portion of the money she made, and controlled her personal life to the best of his ability.  With Atsu-Atsu’s performance wrapped up for the night, he had her summoned to his office. She met him lounging out on a sofa, taking a drag from a shisha water pipe standing on a coffee table in front of him.
 
“You called for me, boss?”, Atsu-Atsu meekly asked.
 
Her manager blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils.  “Man, this hookah stuff is good! You want some?”
 
“No, thank you.”  She knew that shishas had all the same health problems as smoking cigarettes, and didn’t want any of them to hinder her ability to dance.
 
“Eh, you do you,” he dismissed.  “Sounds like ya drew quite a crowd out there, Atsu-Atsu.”
 
“It sure looked like it…” she said, nervously squeezing her ponytail.  Even now, she could feel the cold stares of all those men on her body, undressing her with their eyes.
 
“Ya got any good tips tonight?”
 
Atsu-Atsu nodded and pulled out the wads of cash she had collected during her show.  Her manager counted them after she had placed the last one on the table. The total came out to just over twenty thousand yen.  “Not bad, sweet cheeks…” he said with a smile, “but I seen better.” His smile suddenly faded as he sternly asked, “You ain’t holdin’ out on me, are ya?”
 
“No, sir!  I would never--”
 
“Turn around”, he interrupted.  “Slowly.” Atsu-Atsu did as he commanded.  He wanted to make sure she wasn’t smuggling a few bills behind her back, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of stealing a glance at her shapely bum, either.  After all, Atsu-Atsu was certainly one of the most beautiful girls employed in his club’s roster. Once satisfied on both fronts, he added, “There’s a good girl.  Here’s your cut.” He counted out five thousand yen and gave that to her, stowing the rest in his pockets.
 
Atsu-Atsu had seen this happen so many times before, and each time she was disappointed that she got deprived of so much of the money she should have made.  But, she knew better than to complain. What she did make every night allowed her to live comfortably, and was not worth jeopardising.
 
“Not so fast, sweet-cheeks.”  Atsu-Atsu paused in her tracks and turned around to face her manager.  An uneasy feeling bloomed in the pit of her heart. “First of all”, he went on, “I was thinkin’ of ways to increase audience engagement, you know what I’m sayin’?”
 
She nervously nodded.
 
“For starters… I was thinkin’ you could go topless.”
 
“Reeeh!?” gasped Atsu-Atsu.
 
“Ah, don’t worry.  I’ll give ya pasties.  Real nice ones, with the tassels and everything.”
 
Atsu-Atsu said nothing to argue.  The power he held over her aside, the way he said that made it sound less like a demand and more like a compromise.  Or, at least, that was how she rationalised it to herself.
 
“And another thing,” her boss continued, “I hear you been taking a few extra belly dance lessons.  What’s that for?”
 
Atsu-Atsu was, in fact, taking lessons with Maiko mainly because she wanted to experience a form of belly dance which didn’t involve shedding her dignity for male gratification.  Of course, this is not something her manager would appreciate hearing, so she gave him an excuse which was also technically true. “I… just wanted to learn some new moves. You know… to spice up my routine.”
 
“Good thinking,” he chuckled.  “But let me remind ya… You don’t perform for nobody… but me.”  He flicked his shisha pipe toward his own chest for emphasis. “I put in a lotta work on you, gave you a place to work, paid for those fake jugs o’ yours,” he listed, jabbing his pipe towards her implant-enhanced chest.
 
“Th… thank you, sir.”
 
“Right.  But I expect more than just thanks.  I expect a return on investment. If people found out they could pay to see you from someone else, that would be bad for business.  Wouldn’t ya say?”
 
“...Of course.”
 
“Keep this in mind: I know people.  I got connections. If I find you dancing, or stripping, or whatever for someone else, I can make it so you’re never gonna work for anyone in this town ever again.”
 
Atsu-Atsu had no reason not to take his threats seriously.  He certainly did give off a dominating sense of power. “I understand, sir.”
 
“Good.  Now get outta my sight.  Go home, or give ‘em an encore, I don’t care.”

“Th… thank you.  Good night, sir.”  Atsu-Atsu gave him a demure bow before turning for the door.  As she went back to the dressing room and changed into her regular clothes, heavy emotions began to well up in her mind.

What am I doing with my life?

, she thought.

Am I really willing to go that far for that man?  Is this all that will become of me if I want to be a belly dancer?

Eventually the mental dam holding back her emotions burst, and she collapsed forward into her seat, sobbing over what she had become.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Friday, 7 October 20XX, Evening

Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio

The past few nights had been emotional for Futaba, Ann, and Atsuko alike, but as they returned to their dance classes, enough time had passed that they were once again in good spirits.  They all channeled this resolve into their performance, starting with the stretches. It felt like they were able to push themselves further than ever before. Ann and Honoka were able to reach their chests to the floor in a straddle stretch, albeit with significantly more rounded backs and narrower leg openings than the paragon Atsuko demonstrated.  Futaba even managed to touch her toes and hold herself there for a good few seconds, a personal best.
 
Over the past few lessons, Maiko introduced some new moves for the beginner-level girls to practice.  One was a pair of hip-drops done in sequence, the momentum of the second lifting the opposite leg up and allowing for a step or turn.  She called this move a “baladi kick”, a name which drew no small amount of glee from Futaba. To her, it sounded like the name of an attack someone would shout out in some anime or tokusatsu show, or even a command for one of her friends’ Personas.  Upon trying it out for herself, she couldn’t help herself from calling out “Baladi Kick!” herself, eliciting a few amused snickers from everyone else in the class.
 
Maiko also introduced the class to various arm positions and movements they could incorporate into their other steps, including the classic “snake arms”.  Consisting of lifting and lowering the shoulders, elbows, and wrists in a certain pattern, the motion made her whole arms appear weightless. Due to the coordination required to pull off proper snake arms, she had them work on the motions with one arm at a time.  Futaba’s analytical mind helped her internalise the sequence of actions needed to pull off proper snake arms, and while physically performing it was another challenge, her on-the-spot knowledge gave her a leg up over the rest of the class, and she even gave Ann a bit of help in achieving them herself.
 
Not everything in the lesson went smoothly, however.  For example, Ayame’s body got discoordinated and locked up whenever she tried to do open a sequence with a hip drop.  She had only been able to do hip drops right after a lift, in a sort of up-down-up motion, but starting with a drop was still an alien concept.  Even Futaba had trouble combining her previously-mastered moves with steps, considering that she had limited space to move around in her cramped little bedroom.  When it came time to practise “camels”, or chest undulations done while stepping forward, her normally-capable brain seized up, and the motions she wound up making came out utterly awkward.  Maiko advised her to start practising in areas with more floor space, and taught to all of the class, “That brings up a good point. They say ‘Practise makes perfect’, but I would also add to that, ‘Practise makes permanent’.  If you keep doing something the same way over and over again, that just makes it harder to learn new things. The next time you find yourself stuck on something, think about how you’ve been practising it before, and start doing things differently.  Then you should be able to overcome your stumbling block naturally!”
 
When the class finished for the night, the five students who planned to take part in the recital stayed to pick up some more guidance from Maiko, while Atsuko excused herself.  Ann had been eager to share the video she had found with her teacher, and develop it into a routine she could work with, but her curiosity about Atsuko’s situation got the better of her. “Oh hey,” she called out, but immediately thought better of asking her directly.  “You were really good today. Do you think we could meet sometime to help coach me?” This wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Ann thought she could actually use some hands-on advice from one of her friends, and whilst Futaba was more easily available, Atsuko did honestly come across as a better dancer, having more experience than anyone else besides Maiko herself.
 
Atsuko pondered this request before finally answering, “Sure, I think I could make some time, Ann-chan.  You’re still in school, right?” Ann nodded in confirmation. “Yeah… I can’t do evenings, but is Sunday good for you?  Early afternoon?”
 
“That’ll work!”  Of course, this was dependant on whether or not the Phantom Thieves had other engagements that day, but she would just play that by ear.  “Can I have your number?” Atsuko agreed to swap phone numbers and SNS IDs with her new friend, which they both did next. “Thanks, Atsuko-chan!  I’ll call you later for the deets, okay?”
 
“That’s good.  Can’t wait to see you again, Ann!”  Atsuko bowed in gratitude, and then turned to leave..
 
“Where are you going, Atsuko-chan?”
 
All Atsuko responded with was, “Sorry, Takamaki-san, but I’d rather not talk about it,” before heading out the door.
 
Ann suspected something was amiss.  She stood by the door and, taking occasional glances out its small window, waited for Atsuko to leave the locker room.  When she did step out, now dressed in a short skirt and track jacket, Ann snuck out to follow her, ignoring her current state of half-dress.  Attempting to stay undetected, she ran down the stairs after spotting Atsuko take the elevator down. At the ground floor, she saw her get into a black luxury sedan that had been waiting for her.  The fear for her new friend growing, she broke cover and ran outside, calling out, “Atsuko-chan!”, but it was no use. Atsuko did not so much acknowledge Ann as she sat down in the car and closed its passenger door.
 
Before its tinted windows sealed her from Ann’s vision, she managed to catch sight of two other people in the car, a man in each of the front seats.  And yet, the car did not drive off straight away. Ann just stood in place, waiting for something to happen, when a few red flags popped up in her mind.  The expensive-looking car, the opaque windows shielding its occupants from view, the fancy suits the driver and other man were wearing, and Atsuko’s refusal to so much as react to her name being called…  Ann suspected there was trouble going on in her friend’s life, but in her current state, she felt exposed. She turned around and dashed back into the building, thankful that the other party had apparently just driven off instead of following her.
 
When Ann snuck back into the studio, she was further relieved to find Maiko not paying her any mind, instead working with Honoka on a part of her own routine for the recital.  She recognised it as an idol dance routine from one of Rise Kujikawa’s music videos, to which they were brainstorming other, more traditional baladi moves for her to incorporate.  Watching their work, Ann sidled alongside Futaba, and whispered to her what she had just witnessed.
 
“I’m with you, Ann,” Futaba quietly responded.  “Those are the ingredients of something very suspicious.  But how do we get her to talk about it?”
 
“Well, I said I wanted to practice with her on Sunday.  Maybe I could ask her about it then?”
 
“You could,” agreed Futaba.  “But something tells me she’s not very open to discussion.”
 
Ann pondered this possibility.  “You’re right… Oh! Maybe if we went together, she might feel more at ease?  You know, let her know that we’re both on her side?”
 
“That could work…  Wait a minute. Are you saying I could use her help for dance practise, too?”
 
“Well, nobody’s perfect, but--”  Ann cut herself off when she saw Maiko wrap up with Honoka.  “Hold that thought, Futaba.” With that, she stepped up to go over the video she found.  They agreed that particular routine was too advanced as-is, but Maiko picked out a two-minute segment that would be easier for Ann to emulate, and gave her some drills to help her practice its lower-body and upper-body components separately.  Whilst waiting for Futaba to share her own routine’s progress with the teacher, Ann gave one of those drills a try and, after only a couple of mistakes, soon got the hang of it. If only for a moment, her concerns about Atsuko melted away and left behind a boost of confidence.
 
Meanwhile, in the car that had just picked up Atsuko, its driver was chatting with his other male passenger.  “You seen that girl who followed Atsu-Atsu? I don’t like the way she looked at us…”
 
“Yeah,” the passenger agreed, “but I think I recognise her from somewhere…”  After racking his brains for a moment, he came up with nothing. “Hey Atsu, you know that chick?  The one with the blonde pigtails?”
 
“Her name is Ann Takamaki,” she obediently answered.  “She said she used to be a model, or something.”
 
“Hey, now that you mention it, she was in a couple of mags not too long ago!  Killer body for someone her age. Ya think the boss could use someone like her on stage?”
 
“Only one way to find out,” said the driver.  “Atsu, you think you could give a message to that Ann chick for us?”
 
As much as Atsuko wanted to cover for her friend, she feared the repercussions that might ensue if she held out from giving them any information about Ann.  “Actually,” she said, “we just exchanged contact information. She said she wanted to train with me sometime.”
 
“Whatever,” the passenger cut in, “that’s even better.  Here, gimme your phone for a bit.” Atsuko handed over her smartphone and waited as the man re-typed Ann’s details into his own phone’s contacts.  When he was finished, he gave it back and added, “Good job, Atsu-Atsu. I’ll tell the boss to make it worth your while.”
 
Atsuko squirmed in her seat as she wondered what reward they might have in store for her.

Would they hold off on putting me in pasties for a while?,

she asked herself.

...No, that’s just wishful thinking.  Maybe they’ll just pay me a little extra.  I guess that’s nice… More than likely, they’ll just say they won’t punish me somehow and call that a “reward”.  Oh, why did I let myself get into this...

Wednesday, 12 October 20XX, Morning

Sakura household, Yongen-Jaya

A lot had happened to the Phantom Thieves since Ann and Futaba’s latest dance lesson, and none of it was good.  The Change of Heart they were anticipating suddenly ended in unforeseen disaster, and public opinion had already started to turn against the Thieves’ favour.  Futaba discovered this for herself the following morning, as she scoured the Internet to confirm her fears. But that wasn’t the only problem on her plate. As she checked her e-mail inbox, she noticed an unread message, sent the day before by Ann.  It was something she had received and forwarded to Futaba, with a message added along with it:

Futaba-chan, I just got this last night.  It’s some sort of job offer as a dancer, but it looks kinda sketchy.  Maybe it’s from those guys I saw with Atsuko. I was wondering if you could look into this and tell me who sent it.  Love, Ann

After reading this, Futaba scrolled down to reveal the rest of the message.  It did indeed seem to offer a gig as a belly dancer, promising a hefty signing-on bonus.  There were no further details listed as to who sent it or where she should apply to, only a line asking her to reply to the e-mail if interested.

Ann was right on the money sending this to me

, she thought.

Just like I always say: if it sounds too good to be true, it always is.

Futaba ran a few web-crawler searches on keywords taken from the original e-mail, then stood up, turned to face the mirror, and practised a few shimmies while waiting for results.

Not much I can do here

, she thought.

Maiko-sensei was right.  Sooner or later, I’m gonna need more space to practise.  Maybe Sojiro will let me borrow the loft at Leblanc while Ren’s out at school...

A few minutes later, listings began to pop up in the form of social media posts written by, or related to, other women who had received similar offers.  While none of these messages appeared to come directly from those who had accepted the offers, there were numerous second-hand accounts which corroborated each other, and painted a dark picture indeed.
 
Whomever was pulling the strings here was luring aspiring belly dance performers with  high-paying gigs, only to force them to put on egregiously risque outfits and routines, hold back a sizeable chunk of the money they would have made, and blackmail them against trying to leave their engagement for any other venue, reputable or otherwise.  There were even some accounts of these girls being coerced into private trysts with particularly high-paying customers.
 
Upon reading enough of these stories, Futaba pushed her chair back and buried her head into her bunched-up knees.  From all the horrible things that these women had to deal with, she began to understand Atsuko’s concerning behaviour, and why she didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.  Even worse, now Ann was being targeted. If they managed to get their hooks into her, it would be like Kamoshida all over again. Desperation welling in her mind, she typed up a reply to Ann, recounting what she found online along with the following message:

So… yeah.  I couldn’t get a lock on who exactly this guy is, but he’s sketchier than Inari’s sketchbook.  I know what you went through, and I couldn’t bear to imagine you dealing with all that again. You did the right thing, asking me first.  Take care, Futaba

After sending her reply, Futaba resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing more she could do for now.  And yet, she couldn’t stop from thinking about all this, and the implications it brought forth. So many people who patronised this club would be exposed to a cheap, sensationalised form of belly dance which didn’t truly represent what the art was all about.  Atsuko said she wanted to smash that stereotype of baladi, only to wind up reinforcing it against her wishes.
 
Just then, an even more frightening thought flashed in her mind.  What if her uncle found out? The uncle who had put her in abusive, inhuman conditions until Sojiro was able to wrest legal control of her away from him?  Thankfully, he had never made any sexual demands of her before, but if he were to learn of her interest in belly dancing, would he try to change that? What if he was a patron of the club Atsuko and, potentially, Ann were bound into performing at?  What if that same fate were to fall upon Futaba herself? Plausible or not, these fears weren’t going away, and they were too much for Futaba to bear. Wearily, without even turning her computer off, she rolled into her bed and cried herself into a mid-morning nap.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

???

In the throes of Futaba’s despair-induced slumber, a dream began to take form.  She found herself kneeling atop a tall tower overlooking a vast mansion, its sandy colours illuminated by the waning sunset.  A nearby oasis was the only natural feature she could see that wasn’t just featureless sand dunes. Whilst the setting itself was unfamiliar, she had been in dreams like this before, and instantly recognised her situation.  Here, she was no longer Futaba Sakura, nor Oracle, but an entirely new Phantom Thief identity, which she called “Alibaba”.
 
Looking down, she saw herself wearing a shoulderless bra, a cutoff vest, and a pair camouflage-print

sirwal

pants, all in varying shades of olive green.  Her head and face were covered by a forest-green scarf, some cross between a hijab and a ninja’s hood.  On her wrists were a pair of golden armbands; the left-hand one contained a miniature keyboard for a magical computer which projected augmented-reality data onto her glasses, and the right-hand one contained hidden sensors for collecting said data.  A curved scimitar lay strapped across the small of her back, and holsters along both of her thighs held a pair of chrome-finished machine pistols. She had chosen these guns from a certain classic first-person-shooter game; they weren’t particularly powerful or accurate, but they were easy for her to handle and, when dual-wielded, fun as well.  And topping it all off was her new Persona, Sheherezade, which took the form of a green-skinned, hourglass-figured genie woman who cast wind and support spells from her magical tome.
 
Still taking stock of her situations, a thought flashed within Alibaba’s mind.  She had a vision of a young woman, lying half-naked and chained up in a squalid dungeon somewhere.  The firey red ponytail of her hair made her instantly recognisable.

Atsuko is trapped somewhere in this Palace

, thought Alibaba,

and she must be the Treasure I need to steal in order to trigger a change of heart in…  Whose Palace was this, again?

She racked her brains, but could not recall whom this Palace belonged to.  It must have been someone she had no cognition of in the real world. But now was not the time to question the logic of this place -- her friend was in danger, and she was dead-set on rescuing her.
 
Alibaba scanned her surroundings some more.  Her eyes drew themselves to the focal point of the mansion, a large, boxy structure capped in a giant golden onion-dome, and fronted by a vaulted entryway elaborately decorated in turquoise tiles.  Surely, this would be where her target, the treasure of this Palace, would be found. But how to get in there? In front of this grandiose entrance lay a vast courtyard patrolled by Shadows, taking the form of burly, barrel-chested, obsidian-skinned men in white robes, turbans, and stone masks.  Without the other Phantom Thieves backing her up, fighting too many of them was inadvisable. So, the front door was a non-starter.
 
Instead, she took a second look at the dome.  There was something dotting the base of the giant dome, but Alibaba couldn’t tell what it was with her naked eyes.  She typed a command into one of her armbands, and pointed the other in its direction, using it as a camera. The zoomed-in image that now appeared on one of her glasses’ lenses revealed what these decorations were: some sort of grated windows.  If she could break through one of those grates, she would have easier access to, and egress from, the main chamber. Her route confirmed, she dropped down the tower, jumping between series of wooden rods sticking out from the sides, and landed with a somersault on the rooftop below.
 
While mostly flat, the roof of the mansion was dotted by some smaller domes and crenellations, and lined with walkways leading into the upper floors of its interior.  As such, its owner saw fit to plant a few more Shadows on guard duty, although they were far more spread out than the ones in the courtyard. Hiding behind the tower, Alibaba peered out at each of these patrolling Shadows and logged their routes in her photographic memory.  Two of these shadows passed her by without so much as a glance, but as she approached her goal, she considered the risk of being spotted in the middle of her escape attempt, and struck out at one of the Shadows patrolling around the base.
 
Leaping from behind her cover, Alibaba ripped off the Shadow’s mask, transforming it into a trio of Lilim, winged demon girls.  She grinned wickedly. This selection of female flunkies made sense for a Palace owner keen on collecting controlling ladies in the real world, but their weaknesses played right into her strengths.  Alibaba opened the skirmish by casting a Magaru spell, courtesy of Sheherezade, stunning two of the Lilims but missing the third. Unfazed, she followed up her spell by pulling out one of her guns and spraying some fire its way, clipping its wings.  With all three Lilims now piled in a quivering heap on the roof, they were easy pickings for Alibaba to carve up with her sword. As her blade rended gaping, inky-black gashes into the demons, she stretched her arms in front of her and quipped, “Game over!”
 
The threat subdued, Alibaba headed on to the window grate.  The stone covering was hefty, and refused to budge when she tugged on it.  Unable to look inside at a decent angle, she relied on her wrist-camera once more.  She was treated with a bird’s-eye view of a grand room, its floors covered in ornate carpets and its walls lit in kaleidoscopic colours by the green-tinted chandeliers and stained-glass windows.  In the middle of the room, several girls were dancing about, gossamer silks trailing from their bejeweled wrists and scant bikinis. Their faces were not visible from her viewing angle, but one of them had a fiery red ponytail -- that had to be Atsuko, the damsel-in-distress of this operation.  All of the girls were chained by their ankles to an alcove recessed into the back wall. They must have been dancing for somebody, but from her angle, Alibaba couldn’t see whom he, or they, were. But that wasn’t important now. She had identified her target, Atsuko, and already had a plan set to rescue her from this place.
 
Alibaba took a mound of plastic explosive from her pack of infiltration tools, strategically stuck it to points along the grate’s edge, and stuck the split ends of a detonation cord into each.  The other side of the cord plugged into her smartphone, from which she launched an app to trigger the bombs from a safe distance around the dome. The ensuing explosion blasted chunks of the grate out across the roof, as expected.  In order to secure her entrance, she summoned Sheherezade once more to cast a Garula spell inside the chamber, knocking and disorienting everybody down there with a blast of gale-force wind. Then, seizing the moment, she threw her grappling line inside and slid down.  But as soon as she set foot on the lush carpets below, something she saw froze her nerves. It wasn’t just the identities of the other slaves -- in addition to Atsuko, she saw Ayame and Honoka, and even Yuki resting to the side with a giant feathered fan. Instead, it was whom the slaves were dancing for that shocked the wits out of her.
 
A man who must have been the sultan of this palace sat atop a gilded, velvet-cushioned throne.  Even up close, his face was obscured in ethereal darkness. He must have been a cognition of somebody the real Futaba had yet to meet.  However, the two men on his side were clearly visible. To his right was an older man, perhaps his grand vizier, whom she recognised as Youji Isshiki, her wicked uncle in real life.  And to his left was a younger boy, perhaps his prince, and her heart all but stopped when she recognised whom it was: Ryuji Sakamoto. To see one of her friends, one of her comrades-in-arms from the Phantom Thieves, in this position of wicked power was devastating.  Making matters worse, curled up in his arms was another girl she hadn’t been able to see from afar. Ann Takamaki, or at least this twisted cognition of her, was “dressed” and chained up in the same manner as the other slave girls, and was gingerly stroking “Prince” Ryuji’s buff, exposed chest, her fingers trailing down dangerously close to his naughty bits.
 
As upsetting as these familiar faces were, they only served to steel Alibaba’s resolve.  She whipped out her guns and trained them on Youji and the sultan, the two targets she had prioritised.  To the sultan, she tried to make up a heroic speech as she went along, which inevitably devolved into anime quotes.  “You there, who would… enslave these poor girls, and… defile the beautiful art of

raqs baladi

… that is unforgivable!  In the name of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, I will punish you!”
 
The sultan was the first to recover from the breach.  When he brought himself back upright, he was unfazed by the sight of the gunbarrel now jammed toward him.  A defiant snarl across his formless black face, he snapped his fingers. All of a sudden, Alibaba felt a cold presence behind her.  A trio of Shadows had spontaneously sprung up from puddles of inky primordial goo, and were now taking her hostage. Two of them pried the guns from her hands and pointed them back at her head, while the third slid her scimitar from its scabbard and turned its blade against her neck.
 
The sultan spoke in a distorted voice, like multiple voices speaking as one in some sort of demonic harmony, due to her lack of real-world cognition of whom this man represented.  “I don’t know who you think you are, but you will pay for crashing my good time! Guards! Execute th--”
 
“Whoa, hey!” Prince Ryuji interjected.  “We don’t gotta kill her! I bet she’d make a great addition to the harem, your majesty!”
 
“Hmm…”  The sultan pondered this possibility.  “What say you, my trusted Vizier?”
 
Vizier Isshiki gave Alibaba a thorough looking-over.  Eventually, he told one of the guard Shadows, “This one looks familiar…  Take off her headscarf.” She willed herself not to resist as the Shadow did so, unveiling her face for all to see.  The Vizier’s eyes shot open upon identifying her as his own niece, then squinted as a devilish grin spread across her face.  “Yeah… she’s good,” he told the sultan. “It’s my niece… Futaba Sakura.” To himself, he added sotto voce, “I’m gonna have loads of fun with you, Futaba-chan…”
 
“Very well!” announced the sultan.  “Futaba Sakura, will you join our harem willingly, or shall we recruit you by force?”
 
Futaba replied in a lengthy, furious retort which incorporated all the nasty language she had picked up from Ryuji in the real world.  In summary, her answer was “no”. She was stopped only by her own blade being pushed further into her neck, ever so slightly, but deep enough to draw a few drops of blood.
 
The sultan was outraged.  “Why, you insolent little…  If you will not join me willingly, I’ll have you tortured until you comply!”
 
He was cut off, once again, by Prince Ryuji.  “Chill out, your majesty, I got this.” To the cognitive Ann, he softly ordered, “Hey, Sexy Cat, how ‘bout you give her one of your hypnotic dances?”
 
“Ooh!” she purred.  “Good idea, master Ryuji!”  She rewarded his idea by giving him a kiss on the cheek, and he repaid her with a light smack on her bum, to which she blushed and giggled in vacuous pleasure.  The Shadows pulled Futaba towards the alcove, where Vizier Isshiki took an empty manacle and clamped it upon one of her ankles, and then they backed off, their commandeered weapons still trained on her.  Prince Ryuji clapped his hands twice in succession, and the music paused. Ann trotted out to take her place in the centre of the room, and the other girls, including Futaba, sat down in a semi-circle to face her.
 
On the cue of Prince Ryuji snapping his fingers and shouting, “Hit it!”, a new song began from its unseen source, led by a pulsating hand-drum beat and complemented by droning reed-pipes.  Once the music started, Ann opened her performance by lifting her arms above her head and swinging her hips back and forth, subtly at first but growing in magnitude. Futaba wasn’t keen to fall for her little trap, and tried her best to look away.  But the Vizier didn’t make it easy for her as he clamped his hands on either side of her head, forcing her head to face the dancing vixen with all the grace of a brutish troll. The best she could manage was to try to focus her eyes upwards, not on Ann’s body but her hands.  Unfortunately, the twirling motions of her hands and arms were so elegant, an attribute accentuated by the translucent red silks trailing from her wrists, that she felt herself starting to slip into the charms of those delicate arms.
 
However, Futaba caught herself before her senses were too far gone, and shifted her focus to Ann’s other extremities, her feet.  At this point, she trotted from one side to the other and back, her body waving seductively with each and every step. Vizier Isshiki was doing his niece the favour of slowly turning her head to keep her facing the alluring dancer at all times.  But even her continued attempts to stave off stimulation proved in vain, as Ann’s dainty feet and vibrantly-pointed toenails exhibited their own form of radiant beauty.
 
Desperate for any change in stimulation, Futaba darted her eyes in random directions, but this only served to tire herself out.  Inevitably, she settled her gaze upon Ann giving her a shoulder-shimmy, waving her own arms in sensuous, snake-like motions, and shaking her plump, perky breasts in her direction.  The pendulum-like swaying of her cleavage spurred a nascent desire within Futaba that compelled her not to look away from what may come next. And what came next was Ann leaning her torso backwards, which revealed the giant ruby stuck in her belly button.  It felt to her like it had some sort of hypnotic pull which beckoned her to focus on this especially, more than even the rest of her alluring body.
 
The hypnotic assault wasn’t over yet, not by a longshot.  Ann turned around to face away from her audience, and continued to sway her hips left and right.  The coins hanging from her sash bounced with every wiggle of her shapely tush. Then, without warning, she slid her legs apart and dropped onto the floor in perfect middle splits, looking back over her shoulder and coquettishly blowing a kiss in Futaba’s direction.
 
Her back still turned to the audience, Ann folded her legs into a kneeling position, leant her torso backwards until she was looking at them upside down, and resumed waving her hands upwards in flowing circles around each other.  She bent so far back that her head nearly touched her feet, and the skin of her stomach was stretched taut between her ribcage. With what limited conscious brain function Futaba had left, she admired the flexibility and grace her erstwhile friend put on display.

I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re just stripping for some guy… or girl…

she reasoned,

you can still show off a lot of talent.  And that’s the sexiest part of all.

Even yet, Ann wasn’t finished toying with her prey.  She unbent her back, and twisted around so she was leaning on the floor, supported by one outstretched arm, and began waving her belly.  By now, Futaba’s attention was fixed solely upon the glistening jewel in Ann’s navel. Even as she continued her undulations in a standing position, Futaba’s eyes followed it and it alone.  There was nothing left in her cognition, other than this goddess presenting her gorgeous body in all manner of enticing methods. The undulations ramped up in speed, building up the lustful desire in Futaba’s heart in equal measure, until Ann worked her abdominals to perform smaller, rippling waves, gently rocking her hips side to side to contrast with the intense motion of her fluttering belly.  Futaba had never seen such expert control of one’s body before, not that she was in any mental state to recall any other examples. The excitement of the moment made the core of her body heat up, and her breath to come out in panting bursts, as if she were approaching the climax of some other salacious act. The intensity of Ann’s fluttering built and built, until without warning, she jerked her hips far to one side with a pop, standing still with arms raised.
 
The dance of seduction now complete, Futaba was fast slipping into its hypnotic spell with no chance of escape.  Her breath slowed and deepened, her eyes stared blankly into space, and the slipping faculties of her mind lingered solely on the immaculate dance she had just witnessed, and the divine beauty who had performed it.  The other girls of the harem, who had long since given up their free will under similar circumstances, applauded politely, as had the men whose hearts had long grown callouses to such lustful magic. And yet, Ann had one more coup de grace to deliver.  She slowly strode back toward Futaba, each foot carefully placed in front of the other, then leant forward by the waist, lifted her chin with a gentle caress, and kissed her prey softly on the lips. This final act shattered the last of her remaining willpower, and she fainted at the feet of Vizier Isshiki.  The last thing she heard before blacking out entirely was the Vizier commanding, “Take the girl over to my chamber. I’ve got a lot of work to do on her…”
 
A couple of hours later, Futaba slowly awoke to the sight of a dark room.  Her mind still half-occupied by her nightmare, she wondered with trepidation what horrors had just transpired, and what her fate would soon subject her to.  Nervously, she felt across her body to determine what clothes, or lack thereof, her captors saw fit to put her into. And they were… a T-shirt, a long-sleeved undershirt, and a pair of hotpants.  The same clothes she had worn when she fell asleep earlier that morning.

Thank God

, she thought,

it was only a dream.

And yet...

Unlike most unconscious dreams, which faded out of memory soon after the dreamer woke back up, this highly dream stuck inside her mind.  She wished it hadn’t. Too much of it felt too close to what she and her friends were dealing with at that very moment. Was what she saw truly how her friends felt about belly dance?  Even her closest comrades like Ann and Ryuji?

No.

The more she questioned herself, the more a rebellious spark kindled in the pit of her soul.  She refused to let anything resembling the fate from her dream befall her in real life.

I’m not going to let anybody else dictate what baladi is, or what it can ever be

, she told herself.

And I’m not going to fall into despair again like I did before.  I am Futaba Sakura, and I will become the best dancer I possibly can!

With that silent declaration of intent, she sprung out of bed, and practised her heart out.  Not for those creepy men after Ann. Not for Ann. Not even for Sojiro. Only for herself.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Wednesday, 12 October 20XX, Evening

Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio

As she promised herself, Futaba poured her heart and soul into her next lesson, and it made her feel better about the bad news and bad dreams she had been subject to within the past 24 hours.  Her dedication helped her push through her latest stumbling blocks, such as consistently being able to perform walking camels as intended.
 
After the class was dismissed, Atsuko leaving early as per usual, Futaba held a private conversation with Ann in the locker room to discuss the recent unpleasantries.  “So…” she nervously asked, “D’you get my e-mail today?”
 
“What?  Oh, yes, I did.”  She brought out her phone to review the contents of that message.  “This looks awful… If Atsuko’s really going through all this, that would explain why she was so reluctant to talk to me about it.  Do you think this could be the Yakuza or something?”
 
“I had thought about that,” Futaba answered, fear slowly creeping into her voice upon this realisation.  “It would explain why she won’t talk about it.”
 
“Me, too.  It reminds me of this one other target we fought before you joined us…”
 
“Kaneshiro?”
 
Recalling the hacker’s history of bugging their meeting spots, Ann nodded.  Junya Kaneshiro, the third of the Phantom Thieves’ higher-profile targets, was a local crime lord whose wealth and connections kept him immune from police intervention.  When Makoto and the other Thieves got tangled up with him, he blackmailed them for millions of yen, and threatened to make Makoto, and possibly her older sister, sell their bodies to pay off their debt.  That was, until the Thieves invaded his Palace and changed his heart, at which point he called of the debt and turned himself in to the authorities.
 
After Ann briefly recounted his story, Futaba concluded, “That sounds like what this other guy is doing.  You think he’s got his own Palace, too?”
 
“I… kinda hope not.  We just wrapped up another Palace, and look how that ended up.  He could just be a Mementos target.”
 
“You could be right.  I mean, what he’s doing is horrible and unforgivable, but I don’t know… it just doesn’t seem like it’s on the same scale as Kaneshiro.”
 
“Of course, even if he is in Mementos, we at least need to learn his name.  And that’s why… I was thinking of answering his e-mail and meeting up with him.”
 
“Ann-chan, no!”  Futaba had considered, and feared, this possibility ever since her midday’s nightmare.  With shaky bravado, she described everything she could remember about the dream she had after replying to Ann’s e-mail, including the part where the enslaved facsimile of Ann hypnotised her into submission.
 
Ann listened on in horror.  Despite none of these events actually having taken place, they seemed to tie in all too well to what they were dealing with at the moment.  Even the part where Ryuji was among the slave-masters, since their last personal interaction was not a pleasant one. Not to mention her own past exploits with Kamoshida and Kaneshiro...  A soft “Holy ****...” was all she could respond with.
 
Tears welling in her eyes, Futaba sobbed openly as she hugged Ann tightly, her friend returning the embrace.  “I’m sorry…” Ann whispered, “it’s gonna be alright. It was just a bad dream.”
 
“Don’t go…” Futaba murmured in between sobs.
 
“Don’t worry, Futaba-chan.”  Ann tried to console her friend by tenderly stroking down her hair, and it seemed to have some mollifying effect, as Futaba’s sobs gradually lessened in frequency.  “I won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’ll have Ryuji come along, kind of like a bodyguard. Is that OK?” She felt Futaba gently shake her head in objection. “Are you still thinking of the last time he made fun of you?”  Futaba nodded. “Aw, don’t worry about him, sweetie. He just doesn’t understand what we do here. I’m sure if we just show him our best dances, he’ll appreciate us. Would you like that?” After a lengthy pause, Futaba finally shook her head up and down, marking her approval.  “Besides,” finished Ann, “We’re doing this for Atsuko-chan. I’m sure she’s the best dancer of us all, but first we need to make her feel confident about herself. Are you with me?”
 
Futaba released her hug and stepped back.  Her eyes were still stained with lingering tears, but her renewed resolve showed itself in the form of a nascent smile.  She wiped her eyes dry and softly declared, “For Atsuko.”
 
“That’s the spirit, Futaba-chan!”  Ann held out her hand in between them, and Futaba, anticipating the gesture, shared a gentle handshake with her.  They held it for a good number of seconds, then broke it off and resumed changing.
 
Once they were back in their street clothes, and Ann headed out of the locker room, Futaba said, “Good luck… Panther,” adding her code name quietly.  “And may the Force be with you!”
 
Ann giggled at the reference.  It looked like Futaba was finally back to her old self.  “And also with you,” she joked as she stepped out into the hall.

Thursday, 13 October 20XX, Evening

Red-Light District, Shinjuku

The next day, several hours after school, Ann and Ryuji met each other at Shibuya’s station square.  Ryuji was dressed in his purple track jacket, both for the autumnal chill and to make himself look tougher, befitting his image as a bodyguard.  Aboard the short train journey, Ann summarised her situation to Ryuji: why she had taken up belly dancing, why she put it to rest during the Kamoshida affair, and how Futaba had reinvigorated her passion.
 
“That was why you and Futaba got mad at me last time, ain’t it?”
 
Ann nodded once more.  “Plus, she’s just sensitive about anyone who’s too loud and too close.”
 
“Yeah, I was kind of an ***hole back then…  I’m sorry. I said a lotta immature stuff about you, and especially Futaba.  Guess I was just thinkin’ with my… My heart, if you know what I mean. But ya know what?  If you say there’s more to belly dancing than just stripping, then I’d like to see what that is.  Would you and Futaba like to give me a demonstration sometime?”
 
“I’d love to, Ryuji.  And I’m sure she’ll say the same thing.”
 
“Oh, wait a minute!  Maybe we could show the other guys, too!  I bet they’d really be interested.”
 
“Hey, that’s a great idea!”  Ann leaned in closer alongside Ryuji.  Theatrically, she added, “I shall look forward to dancing for you… Master.”
 
A few stops later, the duo stepped out of Shinjuku Station and soon found themselves face-to-face with the mouth of its red-light district, a virtual canyon of concrete and garish neon lighting.  Ryuji squeezed Ann’s hand. “Just stick with me, Ann. I been around here before, with Ren-ren and Mishima and stuff.”
 
She hugged herself close to his arm as they walked into the growing crowds ahead.  As they pushed on, they were accosted by numerous touts trying to reel them in to their respective establishments, each with varying levels of legitimacy.  Ryuji managed to scare them off with a fearsome glare or the occasional vulgar rebuff. As they ventured through the chaos, a young shaggy-haired man in a denim vest stepped forward and tried to invite the couple in to one such nightclub.  He got a fierce shove from Ryuji for his efforts. But just after he did so, Ann caught a glimpse of the signs advertising the businesses within that particular building. Recognising one of the names from her e-mail correspondence, she said in a panic, “Wait, Ryuji!  That’s the place!”
 
Apologetically, Ryuji lent a hand to pull the man back up.  “Heh… sorry dude! My girlfriend got a job interview at this place.”
 
“Yeah, okay…” he responded nonchalantly, indicating with an outstretched hand where to lead them.  “Right this way, first basement.”
 
“Thank you!” Ann called back in English, as she and her partner headed down the staircase indicated.  Beyond a thickly-beaded curtain, a sunglasses-wearing bouncer stationed himself in their way. He subtly lifted the shades to size them up, suspecting them to be underage.
 
“Lemme see some ID,” he grumbled.  “18 to enter, 20 to drink.”
 
Ryuji was not prepared for this eventuality.  He stammered unintelligibly to stall for time, until Ann cut him off and said, “Actually, I got an invitation from your boss for an interview, so if you could just let him know I’m here?”
 
“And you are…?”
 
“I’m Takamaki.  Ann Takamaki. Look, just go back and ask your boss about me, okay?”
 
The bouncer sighed.  He had dealt with minors trying to sneak in before, and this wasn’t even the cleverest plan he had ever witnessed.  But, he figured, it wouldn’t hurt just to ask about it. Even if what they said was true, checking up on it would be better than them showing up uninvited.  He ordered them to stay put, and disappeared past a second beaded curtain behind him.
 
Before long, the bouncer returned, accompanied by a second man.  His slicked-back hair was unevenly dyed blond, and his weathered face was decorated by a pencil-thin moustache.  He wore a dark pinstriped suit, its open jacket showing a leopard-print dress shirt underneath. Arms open in theatrical invitation, he said, “Well, well, you must be Miss Takamaki.  Welcome to the Shag Pad, baby, yeah!” Pointing over to Ryuji, he asked, “Who’s the brute?”
 
“She’s with me,” Ryuji challenged.
 
To Ann, he asked, “Who’s he?  Your boyfriend?”
 
“Bodyguard.  ...And boyfriend.”
 
“Eh, I guess you can come along.  I don’t want no trouble.”
 
And so, he beckoned Ann and Ryuji to sidle past the bouncer and into the club itself.  The room they entered reminded them of a cross between Kamoshida’s Palace and Kaneshiro’s own nightlife venue, only tackier than either.  It was bedecked in ‘60s “mod” decor and tinted with hazy pink lighting, with spotlights projecting small, bright floral shapes in seemingly-random trajectories.  Small tables dotted the centre of the floorspace. One wall was taken up by a bar, and another corner was lined with velvet-cushioned booth seats. On the other side of the room was a stage, a shortly-raised wooden platform in an abstract, curving shape.  Part of it jutted out into the room in a round peninsular form, skewered by a chrome pole reaching from floor to ceiling. Soft vocal jazz played from unseen speakers. It was early in the night, so there were precious few patrons in the place at the moment.  Wasting no time on giving his guests a tour, the boss led them straight to a door marked “No Entry - Staff Only”, and down a hallway to another door simply labeled “Manager”.

So much for picking up his name from the wall…

Ann thought with disappointment.

If I’m gonna change his heart, looks like I’ll have to get it myself.

The decor in the manager’s office was a mishmash of old styles, mostly former futurist designs from the mid-Showa period.  It was darkly lit, like the main club except in blue tones. He sat down on a couch in one corner, and bade Ann to sit in a bucket chair across a glass coffee table.  There was only one of these chairs, so Ryuji just stood along the wall next to the door.
 
“Oh, by the way, I didn’t catch your name, mister…?”
 
“Call me Takashi.”  In-between sentences, he took puffs from a blue-glass shisha on the table in front of him.
 
“Just Takashi?”
 
“Can’t be too careful, what with them Phantom Thieves around.”
 
Ann swore inside her head.  Did he already know she and Ryuji were Phantom Thieves?  Nervously, she played along. “Oh, yeah! Wouldn’t want to get your heart stolen or anything!”
 
“And yet you gave me your name, Takamaki-san.”  Ann was completely caught off-guard by this counterpoint, but Takashi soon defused the tension.  “Relax, kid! I already knew that. I saw you in them model shoots a while back; that’s how I heard of ya!”
 
“Wow, I’m that famous already?”
 
“Of course!  I just know you’re gonna be a big hit here!”
 
“Thanks, I guess!”  Ann’s face was tinged by a slight blush of appreciation, indiscernible in the dim light of Takashi’s office.  “So, could you tell me a little more about this gig?”
 
“Sure thing, babycakes.  Where do you wanna start?”
 
“Well, I guess… what are the hours?”
 
“Let’s see…  We got a bunch of time slots starting at 21:00.”
 
“How long will I have to stay on stage?”
 
“You’ll be up there anywhere from a half-hour to over an hour.”
 
“Sounds pretty long…  Will I have to memorise a whole dance for the whole time?”
 
“You’ll learn a couple a’ routines to get you started, but other than that, you’ll just wing it for most of the time.  By the way, you got any dancin’ experience?”
 
“Apart from modelling?  I’ve been taking a couple of…”  She stumbled at the thought of going into such details, but reminded herself how suspected he already knew the answer, especially if he was tipped off about her by Atsuko.  Swallowing her fears down, she continued, “...Belly dancing lessons, in my spare time. I even did a recital after my first course last year.”
 
“That’s just what I’m lookin’ for!  By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know anybody else who’d be interested in joinin’ our here crew, would ya?  I can make it worth your while…!”
 
Ann’s thoughts flashed on Futaba, but she knew that was completely out of the question.  If Ann had her own doubts about accepting the offer herself, there was no way she’d let Futaba do the same.  She was far too young to work at a place like this, and would be even more reluctant to show off her body in such a fashion.  “No, I’m afraid not,” was all that she answered with.
 
“Let me know when ya find someone.  That offer’s always on the table.”
 
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
 
”Now, you saw the signing bonus in my e-mail, right?  That’s yours as soon as you join. Other than that, you work for tips.”
 
“Tips?” Ann asked in concerned confusion.
 
“Performers like you come and go, so we can’t afford to pay you out of admissions.  It wouldn’t be fair to our regular staff. Fortunately, our usual clientele is more than happy to pay extra in the presence of a pretty gal… like yourself.  Oh, but I will have to take a cut of your tips in order to pay for the work I put in ya.”
 
“I’m sorry… what?”  Already this was sounding like a bad deal, and Ann had every intention of walking away, but she feigned interest as long as she could in order to learn more about this man’s methods.
 
“You’re gonna need training, costumes, maybe some plastic surgery, and all that don’t come free.”
 
“Surgery!?”
 
“Put a couple a’ implants in ya, and you’d look pretty hot!”
 
“I’m sorry, implants?  You mean, like…” Conscious of her own body, Ann cupped her chest.  She had C-cups, already above-average for girls her age, and with room yet to grow.  Was that seriously not enough for this guy? “Oh, uh... I think I’m a little too young for that kind of operation!  Besides, I haven’t finished growing!”
 
“How old are ya, by the way?”
 
“I’ll be seventeen next month.  …Is that a problem?”
 
“Ah, that just means I’ll save the really hot costumes until you’re old enough.”
 
“Speaking of, do you think you could show me what I’d be wearing on stage?”
 
“You got it, sweet-cheeks,” Takashi said on his way out of the room.
 
Once they were certain that Takashi was out of earshot, Ryuji made his own feelings known.  “I don’t like this,” he declared. “This all sounds pretty effed up to me.”
 
“You’re telling me…” Ann sympathised.
 
“I mean, we’re not even eighteen!  Are they even allowed to hire ya before then?”
 
“Something tells me they don’t care about that sort of thing.”
 
“I get ya, Ann.  You think they’re Yakuza or something?”
 
“Yeah, Futaba thought the same thing, too.  I’m only playing along to help out a friend.”
 
“A friend?” Ryuji asked.
 
But before Ann could answer whom she was referring to, Takashi pulled the door back open.  He was brandishing a minuscule bikini, orange with cheap gold trim. It was heavily laden with gilded coins, beads, and other baubles, along with narrow strips of diaphanous fabric hanging from the front and back of the thong panties.  He handed the costume, such as it was, to Ann. “My, this is…” she started to say, “...unlike any dancing costume I’ve seen. Is that it…?”
 
“Oh, I almost forgot,” replied Takashi.  He pulled something out of his jacket pocket.  It was a small square of see-through fabric, just like the pieces attached to the bikini bottom, draped below a slim golden chain.  “It’s for your face. Put that under your eyes, and it makes you look all mysterious and sexy.”
 
“Seriously?  That’s it?” For a moment, Ann wondered if she could just bring her own costume to dance in.  She recalled what she had worn during her original recital: a bra that actually covered more of her breasts than it showed off, a bolero jacket that sheathed her arms in elaborate patterns, and most importantly, a skirt.  A long, flowing skirt with a wide, bejeweled belt, cut only to reveal the lower half of one of her legs. Unfortunately, she had only borrowed it from her teacher, and thus couldn’t bring it back on a whim. That was, assuming Takashi would let her wear it in the first place.  “Don’t I at least get, like, a skirt or something?”
 
“Come on, babycakes!  Ya got some really beautiful legs there!  It would be a shame to hide them gams, you know what I mean?”  As Takashi said this, his gaze fell upon Ann’s legs, her black tights doing nothing to mask their shapely form.  Conscious of his stare, she crossed her arms over her lap, as if that would help cover them from view.
 
If Takashi was going to leer at her even before she took any clothes off, there was no way Ann could survive the environment of working there night after night.  With barely-restrained fury, she softly but defiantly stated, “I think I’ve seen enough. My answer is no, Takashi-san. I would never work for a ****ing

creep

like you!”
 
The intensity in Takashi’s voice began to rise to Ann’s level.  “...What did you say to me?”
 
Ryuji jumped in to cover for his friend.  “What, are ya dumb

and

stupid?  She said no!”

Don’t you mean “deaf and stupid”?

, Ann thought, but right now she didn’t have the heart to correct her friend.
 
Takashi laughed.  “Oh, you crack me up, kid!  I might even wanna hire you too, like a bouncer or somethin’!”  He glanced at a clock on the wall, which showed the time to be a couple of minutes before 21:00.  “Tell ya what, babycakes. I got another performer on in a couple a’ minutes who’s just like what you’ll be doing.  Why dont’cha give her a watch, then you can make up your mind. Wanna see?”
 
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt…” Ann answered with concern.  To Ryuji, she asked, “What do you think?”
 
“Eh, might as well.”
 
As an aside to Ryuji, he added, “I think you’re gonna like her, kid.”
 
Takashi led them back into the club itself.  As they all sat down, the tinny music of a primitive drumbeat hit their ears.  Instinctively they both turned their heads towards the stage, where a long, slender leg stuck itself out from behind the red satin curtains in the back, followed by the lady it was attached to.  The figure that met their gaze shocked them both, for different reasons. It was Atsuko... but not as Ann knew her. Atsuko, or “Atsu-Atsu” as she was known here, was in the middle of her regular performance.
 
Atsu-Atsu’s dance could hardly be called belly dancing, at least as Ann knew it.  Every move she made, every shake of her chest, every wiggle of her hips, was designed to draw attention to her most lustful assets.  And said assets were on full display, almost completely naked but for the pasties and thong that comprised what was essentially her entire outfit.  Her biggest source of modesty, by far, was the veil draped below her eyes. The room was too dark for them to make out her face beneath it, but from the way her eyes met Ann’s, jumping open in shock, then drooping in regretful sorrow, it was clear that she was not enjoying herself.
 
The same could not be said of Ryuji, who unblinkingly stared at her body, a stupidly satisfied grin plastered on his face.  But all that Ann could think about was how her friend was degrading herself so much. “Oh God, no… Atsuko-chan…” she whispered to herself.  To Ryuji, she pleaded, “We have to go.”
 
Ryuji resisted.  “Hey, what the eff, Ann?  This is just getting good!”
 
“She’s in my dance class.”
 
“...For real?”  This revelation caught Ryuji off-guard just long enough for him to give ground and follow Ann when she tugged once more on his arm, eager to finally leave this den of debauchery.
 
“Hey, where ya goin’ babycakes?” pleaded Takashi.  “You’re walkin’ away from a great deal here!”
 
“The deal’s off, Takashi!”  Before Takashi could do anything to stop Ann, she and Ryuji stormed off, as Atsu-Atsu tried her best to ignore the commotion and resume gyrating for her remaining audience.
 
Ann made a nonstop dash out of the red-light district, with Ryuji calling upon all his track-and-field training in order to keep the pace.  Aboard the train home, surrounded by so many anonymous commuters, they sat side-by-side in a pair of seats that they were lucky enough to find open.  The couple rested in silence for a few moments until Ann, gathering her thoughts on the fly, said, “Ryuji… What you saw back there… That’s not what I got into belly dance for.  I wanted to feel sexy, but… not

that

sexy.”
 
He paused for a moment, before his response came naturally to him.  “I think I understand ya, Ann. I mean, what I saw… to be honest, it kinda wasn’t even that sexy.”  Ryuji was only half-telling the truth; he was indeed captivated by the thought of Atsuko’s body, but thinking about her sad eyes brought him out of his fantasy.  “It’s like, they’re trying too hard, ya know?”
 
“I guess that’s a good way to put it.”
 
“I mean, she didn’t even look like she was havin’ fun!  I can’t get turned on if I’m feeling all depressed and ****.”
 
“Yeah…  That’s why I took a break from belly dancing for a while.”
 
“Kamoshida?”
 
Ann gave a silent nod.
 
“You did the right thing, Ann.  If I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t let him in on that little secret neither.  He woulda tried to put you through the same **** as Atsuko.”
 
“Thanks, Ryuji.”  She had long held doubts about whether her behaviour during the Kamoshida affair was in the right, considering what it led to for both her and her friend Shido.  But, for the first time since his change of heart, she once again felt good about her decisions back then. Her heart feeling considerably lighter, she asked, “By the way…  What do you think about me and Futaba doing belly dance?”
 
Ryuji stalled for a suitable response.  “Is there any answer that won’t get me kicked in the nuts?”
 
Ann giggled.  “Oh, just be yourself!”
 
“Alright.  Um…” He racked his brains to come up with an answer.  “I think you’d look kinda hot doin’ it, and Futaba too, a little.”  Ann cocked an eyebrow in anticipation of where this explanation might be headed.  “But, I just know that ain’t the only reason you tried it out. As long as it’s something you wanna do, and it makes you happy, I don’t got a problem with it.”
 
Ann’s heart warmed up for the first time that night.  Fighting back tears of relief, she simply said, “Thank you… Ryuji.”  And with that, she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. Ryuji blushed and sighed with contentment.
 
Just then, the train’s PA system announced its next stop at Shibuya, where the couple was to disembark and part ways.  Ryuji volunteered to walk Ann the rest of the way home. Considering what just transpired for the two of them, she agreed to stay under his guard for a little while longer.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Friday, 14 October 20XX, Evening

Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio

After their chance encounter the night before, Ann was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that Atsuko had failed to show up for their following dance class.  Ann figured that she must have been embarrassed about the whole ordeal, unable to bear the hypocrisy of believing in

raqs baladi

as a serious art form, only to perform it as anything but, even if through no fault of her own.  She tried to keep her concern for her friend out of her mind, but it proved to be a subconscious stumbling block.  Maiko introduced hand motions into the torso-and-step combinations they had learned before, but the coordination required proved to be too much for Ann at the moment.
 
As the class closed, Ann managed to get some time alone with Futaba.  In the locker room, she relayed her findings from last night, describing the club’s seedy atmosphere, the pushy nature of the manager who attempted to ensnare her in his business, and the way Atsuko, or rather Atsu-Atsu, clearly seemed uncomfortable in her predicament.  “I’m worried that seeing me scared her away from class tonight,” she explained. “She may never want to dance again, or worse… I want to give her a call, but after what happened, I don’t think she’d want to talk to me.”
 
“What if I called her?”, offered Futaba.
 
Ann pondered this prospect.  “Perhaps… She saw Ryuji and me last night, but not you.”
 
“Come to think of it, I haven’t really got to know her at all…  That could work! ...Um, you’ll tell me what to say, right?”
 
“Okay.  I have her number, but could we use your phone?”
 
Futaba was already holding her smartphone.  “Way ahead of you!” Ann showed Atsuko’s number from her contacts, and Futaba dialed it on her own device.
 
After a few rings, Atsuko picked up on the other end.  “Moshi-moshi…?” she nervously answered.
 
“Atsuko-senpai, it’s Futaba,” she greeted, trying to sound as cheery as possible.  “We missed you tonight; where were you?”
 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I…  I had to work overtime today.”  The way she paused made it obvious she was trying to lie about her true intentions, and yet there at least was a kernel of truth to her excuse.
 
“That’s okay.  Would… maybe you like to get together sometime?”
 
“Thank you, Futaba-san, but… I’m kind of going through a hard time now.”
 
“Don’t worry, Atsuko-senpai.  My schedule’s always clear for you.”
 
“Listen, Futaba, I just… feel like I need to take a break from belly dance for a while.”
 
Holding her hand over her phone’s mouthpiece, Futaba glanced at Ann for a cue.  Repeating her friend’s dictation, she responded, “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.”  Before Ann could add anything else, Futaba continued, “I just really look up to you, Atsuko-senpai. I don’t have that many friends--” she ignored Ann gesturing and opening her mouth in objection “--and you just seem like the nicest gal.”
 
If smiling had a sound, Futaba knew she would have heard it over the line right then.  “I appreciate that, Futaba. Did you have a time and place in mind?”
 
Futaba looked back at Ann, who whispered, “After school.  Leblanc.”, and relayed the time and place.
 
When Atsuko asked about Leblanc, Futaba explained, “It’s this cafe place my dad runs.  It’s in Yongen-Jaya, right near the station. Can you make it tomorrow?”
 
“Yes, that’s close to where I live.  I’ll see you then!” But before Futaba could hang up, she added, “Oh, I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone in the class about our get-together.”
 
Futaba stared up at Ann for another cue, but was met only with a shrug.  Winging it, she merely gave Atsuko a noncommittal, “Alright, I’ll be careful.  Bye!” Once they finally hung up, the two friends shared a congratulatory hi-five.

Saturday, 15 October 20XX, After School

Cafe Leblanc, Yongen-Jaya

The next day, Ann headed straight from Shujin Academy to Cafe Leblanc, giving Futaba a heads-up via text message as she left the classroom.  As expected, she saw her auburn-haired otaku friend already stationed in one of the booths, a cup of coffee lying untouched next to the sticker-coated laptop she was typing rapidly on.  Sitting across from her, Ann ordered a coffee and cake set for herself. Futaba, being her usual blunt self, asked, “Do you really need that cake, Ann-chan?”
 
Annoyed, Ann retorted, “You’re one to talk, Futaba!  If it weren’t for belly dancing, you’d never get up from your computers!”
 
Exaggerating the offence she felt, Futaba countered, “Well!  I’ll have you know that I’ve started drinking my coffee

without

sugar, thank you very much, Mrs. Sweet Tooth!”
 
Before Ann could argue any further, the door opened, its bell chiming in the motion, and with it stepped in Atsuko, dressed in a white tunic and capri tights.  She spotted Futaba’s head immediately, and started in her direction, but when she noticed the blonde, twin-tailed girl sitting across from her, she paused in her tracks.  Futaba leaned out from in front of her laptop, and began to greet her guest with a cordial, “Oh hi, Atsu--” But when she saw the expression of shock on Atsuko’s face, she cut herself off and tried to explain.  “No, wait! We’re only trying to help you!”
 
Atsuko wanted to run away, unwilling to face the reality of what she had become in other people’s minds, but she was too afraid to even move her feet.  Sensing her hesitation, Ann sprung up and grabbed her by the wrist. Looking deep into her eyes, she explained, “Atsuko-senpai… I’m sorry about what happened last night.  I wasn’t trying to stalk you or anything… Well, I guess I kinda was, but I was only worried about you.”
 
Atsuko tried to jerk her hand away, to no avail.  “No, stay out of it, Ann!”, she protested. “You don’t know what I have to deal with!”
 
“Yes, I do!”, insisted Ann.  “I got an e-mail invite to work at the same place.  I only came by to see what it was like, then turn it down.  I didn’t mean to find you there. Is it okay if we sit down and talk it over?”  Atsuko meekly nodded, and Ann led her to sit beside herself. “Can I get you anything to drink, Atsuko-senpai?”
 
“Some green tea would be nice.”
 
Futaba, who was innately familiar with Leblanc’s menu, responded, “I think we’ve only got coffee here…”
 
“Oh!  I’ve got a pack of instant matcha!” Ann offered.  “Would that be alright?”
 
“Why, yes,” consented Atsuko.  Ann requested a cup of hot water from Sojiro, took out a packet of matcha powder from her purse, and stirred in the contents.  When it settled, Atsuko sipped the tea and said, “That’s good. Thank you, Ann.”
 
“My pleasure!”
 
The three girls sipped their beverages for a while, no one saying a word.  When Atsuko felt she had enough courage to break the silence, she meekly announced, “I’m sorry to bring this up now, but I…  I want to cancel the rest of my classes with Maiko-sensei.”
 
The other girls were crestfallen upon hearing this news.  They stalled in silence some more, until Futaba said, “Atsuko-senpai…”
 
“Please, just Atsuko is fine.”
 
“Fine.  Atsuko… Have I ever told you why I got into belly dancing?”
 
A third silence lingered as Atsuko tried to recall what Futaba had said on their first meeting together.  “Was it… something about… Egypt?”
 
“That’s only part of it.  A couple of years ago… my mom died.  I kept telling myself that I was responsible.  I wasn’t really, of course, but I felt so guilty about it, that sometimes...”  She couldn’t bring herself to mention her fantasies of self-destruction, and instead moved on.  “Anyway, I needed something to take my mind off of it, and since I was already into ancient Egyptian stuff, that’s how I discovered belly dancing.  I only practised in secret, in my room, because I was afraid of what other people would think of me. Kinda like you, in a way, I guess. But, eventually my dad found out about it, and he liked it, and that brought me here.  What I’m trying to say, Atsuko, is you shouldn’t worry too much about how you think other people will see you or what you do, because that’s not always the case.”
 
“I guess…” mused Atsuko.  “But you haven’t had to get half-naked for other men, have you?”
 
Ann jumped in.  “That’s beside the point.  You at least had that mask or whatever on your face, didn’t you?  No one could tell it’s you up there; they’d only see Atsu-Atsu or whatever!  You don’t have to worry; I swear I haven’t told a single soul about your secret, apart from Futaba over here.”  As she said this, the thought occurred to her that Ryuji, who had also been present that night, may not be as tight-lipped as herself, but something about their heartfelt debriefing afterwards assuaged her concerns.
 
Atsuko sighed.  “Thank you, but that’s only part of the problem.  Remember when I told you all that I wanted to dispel the stereotype of belly dancing only being… sexy?  I was lying to myself when I said that. I wanted it to be true, but… this was the job I took, and now… If all those men just want to watch me for my body, then...”  She teared up and buried her head in her arms as she cried, “Then I don’t want to do it anymore!”
 
Ann comforted her with a pat on the back.  “Atsuko-chan, don’t say that!”
 
“It can’t be helped.”
 
“Why don’t you just quit?”
 
“I wish it were that simple…  They’ll come after me if I quit.”
 
“Who?  The yakuza?”
 
Atsuko gasped and lifted her head in shock.  “Could they really be…?”
 
“Without going into specifics,” explained Ann, “We’ve dealt with enough criminal lowlifes to know ‘em when we see ‘em.  Like I said, I only went there last night to investigate who was behind it all, and the way he pressured me...” She began to feel uncomfortable about bringing it up, so she kept it brief.  “I wouldn’t put it past ‘em to be yakuza.”
 
“If that’s true, then I’m glad you were able to resist their offer, Ann-san.  But… would you really be able to do anything about them for me? Or any other girls who they’ve already snatched up?”
 
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  Atsuko… Have you heard of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?”
 
“Are you telling me…  Are

you

Phantom Thieves!?”
 
Ann fumbled for a response, but Futaba jumped in with, “No, we… uh, know how to get in contact with them!”
 
“Please, no!  I don’t want them to kill anyone!”
 
“What are you talking about?”  As Ann said this, her thoughts immediately flashed upon the unfortunate fate of Mr. Okumura.  “Oh, that… Listen, Atsuko. I don’t know how that happened, but trust me, the Phantom Thieves do

not

kill their victims!  I would know, because…”  She chose her words carefully, in order to maintain the facade of referring to them in the third person.  “They helped me out in the past. Have you ever heard of Suguru Kamoshida?”
 
“I think so…  Wasn’t he that teacher who admitted to abusing his students?”
 
“Volleyball coach, yeah.  Among other things, he tried to get me to do certain… favours for him in exchange for helping a friend of mine.  And when I refused… I don’t want to talk about it, but let’s just say I feel like I completely understand your situation.”
 
“Are you saying that when he confessed, that was the Phantom Thieves?”
 
Ann nodded.
 
“But wait, don’t they have to put out a calling card or something before they do their thing?”
 
Futaba jumped in again.  “That’s only for the really big targets.  For the smaller stuff, it’s different. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Phan-Site?”
 
“The ‘Phan-Site’...?  No, I can’t say I have.”
 
Futaba showed her the screen of her laptop, which currently showed the Phan-Site in a private browser window.  The latest poll question, reading “Are the Phantom Thieves innocent?”, was shown at the top, followed by its results and a continually-updating list of comments, largely dominated by immature trolls.  Before Atsuko had a chance to read any of those comments, Futaba already clicked a link to another page, a forum where the discussions were marginally more sensible. The comments posted here were requests for the Phantom Thieves to change the hearts of specific individuals.
 
“Basically what you do,” explained Futaba, “is write a post describing your problem, and who’s giving you trouble.  They’ll look into it, and if it’s worthwhile, they’ll change the target’s heart! ...As they call it. Don’t worry about anyone tracing it back to you, it’s completely anonymous.  In fact, I can do it for you! I’ve rerouted my browser through, like, three proxies, so even if someone somehow managed to track its IP address, they wouldn’t be anywhere near close to me, you, or Ann’s devices!”
 
Atsuko stared blankly in the face of all this technobabble.  Ann took her best guess at interpreting the jargon in layman’s terms.  “I… think that means that we’d be even more anonymous, right, Futaba?”
 
“Pretty much.  There’s just one thing, though.  In order for the Phantom Thieves to act on a request, they need a name.  A full name.”
 
“That’s part of the reason why I came over to the club the other night”, added Ann.  “Unfortunately, your boss only told me his first name, Takashi. You wouldn’t happen to know his--”
 
“Aramaki.  Takashi Aramaki.”
 
“Thanks.”  Futaba began typing, but stopped.  “Um… You wouldn’t happen to know the kanji, would you?”
 
“I’m sorry, I’ve never seen it written down.”
 
“That’s okay, I can look it up.  Ann-chan, watch my things for me, okay?”  Before Ann could stop her, Futaba sprung up from her seat and walked out the door.
 
Standing outside Leblanc’s storefront, she whipped out her smartphone and opened the Metaverse Navigator.  The app greeted her with a prompt to speak the name of her desired target, which she did. After a moment of processing, the phonetic name it recorded from her voice was automatically rewritten into three kanji characters, which she captured in her photographic memory.  A synthetic voice announced, “One target found. Begin navigation?”, but Futaba declined, instead furtively closing the app and heading back inside.
 
“Oh hi, Futaba,” Atsuko greeted upon her return.  “Found what you were looking for?”
 
“Yup.”
 
“Great!  ...What were you doing out there?”
 
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you”, she bluffed.  “Assuming you even knew what I’m talking about. But yeah, I got his name down.”  Turning her attention to the Phan-Site on her laptop, she mused, “Now, what should I write…?”
 
The trio pondered in silence for a few moments, brainstorming what to include in their request.  “You can keep it simple,” suggested Ann. “Just mention his name and what he’s doing to you.”
 
“Alright.  Let’s see… ‘Takashi Aramaki is…’”  Atsuko paused in thought. “He is making me…  how would you put it?”
 
“Enslaving?”  Futaba drew upon her recent nightmare to describe the real-life situation more vividly.
 
“Oh, that’s a good way to put it!  ‘Takashi Aramaki, owner of the Shag Pad nightclub in Shinjuku, is enslaving me… and the other dancers who work there.’”
 
Futaba transcribed Atsuko’s line, silently adding a couple of details about what her “enslavement” entailed, closing it with a theatrical “Help me, Phantom Thieves!!”, and submitting it.  “Aaand… done! Now, we just wait.”
 
Atsuko bowed in her seat.  “Thank you so much, Futaba-chan.  But… what should I do in the meantime?”
 
Ann draped an arm over Atsuko’s shoulders in a comforting embrace.  “You just do what feels right. If all goes well, you won’t have to worry about Aramaki for long.”
 
“In that case…  I’ll just keep performing until something happens.”
 
“Are you sure?”
 
“It’ll be even more trouble if I don’t show up.  And besides, I thought about what you told me, and I shouldn’t be ashamed of belly dancing, even if it is some gross perversion of it.  I mean, it’s not like the men in the audience are all that obnoxious anyway, besides Takashi. And like you said, they don’t see me as Atsuko, only Atsu-Atsu.”
 
“Well, if you’re good with it…  Just be careful, okay?”
 
“I will.  Thank you too, Ann-chan.”  Atsuko returned Ann’s hug with a brief, but tight, squeeze of her own, and stood up to leave.
 
Before she could get far, Futaba called out, “One more thing, Atsuko.  Are you coming back to class with us?”
 
As she stood at the door, Atsuko looked over her shoulder and told the two girls, “Yes, Futaba-chan…  I would like that.”
 
“Great!  See you Wednesday, and good luck!”  The girls gave a slight head-bow to show their appreciation, and with a return gesture, Atsuko finally left.  Once certain that she was out of sight, Futaba brought her attention back to her phone and started texting. “Who are you texting, Futaba?” she asked.
 
“Mishima.  I just want to get his attention as soon as possible.”  She slid her phone across the table to give Ann a look at the chat log.

FUTABA
: hey NPC-kun

MISHIMA
: I have a name you know.

FUTABA
: sorry bro

FUTABA
: it’s just there’s this lead on the Phan-Site I’d like you to look into

FUTABA
: it’s for a friend of mine

MISHIMA
: …

MISHIMA
: Call me by my real name and you got yourself a deal.

FUTABA
: fine...

FUTABA
: please, Mishima-kun

MISHIMA
: Alright.

FUTABA
: it’s the one about some skeezy nightclub owner called Takashi Aramaki

FUTABA
: he’s got this club in Shinjuku called the Shag Pad

FUTABA
: if you can’t get in ask that reporter chick

MISHIMA
: Ohya-san?

MISHIMA
: wth NO >:-(

FUTABA
: pretty please Mishima-kun?

FUTABA
: for great justice?

MISHIMA
: …

MISHIMA
: Oh, alright.

FUTABA
: YAY \(^o^)/

FUTABA
: good hunting

With that, Futaba closed her messaging app and said to no one in particular, “And now we play the waiting game…”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sunday, 16 October 20XX, Early Morning

Cafe Leblanc, Yongen-Jaya

In the waxing light of a Sunday morning, Ren Amamiya awoke to the sound of his smartphone chiming.  It was an incoming text message from Yuuki Mishima, which he read through bleary eyes.

MISHIMA
: Good morning Ren-kun!  I’ve got a juicy Mementos scoop for ya from the Phan-site!

REN
: OK, what’s up?

MISHIMA
: There’s this shady nightclub owner in Shinjuku who’s been recruiting dancers with promises of high-paying gigs,

MISHIMA
: only to force them to wear really skimpy costumes, steal a huge portion of their pay,

MISHIMA
: and threaten to blackball them, or worse, if they try to quit.

MISHIMA
: His name’s Takashi Aramaki and he runs a place called the Shag Pad.

MISHIMA
: I think he might even be yakuza too.

MISHIMA
: I got Ohya-chan to confirm it for me.

MISHIMA
: btw Futaba owes me BIG time.

REN
: It’s for the greater good, Mishima.

REN
: After what happened with Okumura, even little targets like these could really help restore people’s trust in the Phantom Thieves.

REN
: I’ll track him down for you.

Once satisfied that Mishima was done chatting for the moment, Ren changed and walked down the stairs, where he met Sojiro and Futaba for breakfast.  Now that she was side-by-side with the leader of the Phantom Thieves, Futaba was antsy to get started on saving her friend Atsuko. Sojiro was not yet privy to the fact that the youths under his custody were Phantom Thieves, so instead of talking, and without waiting for either of them to finish their curry, Futaba held her phone under the counter and began her own text-chat with Ren.

FUTABA
: so, Joker…

“You know, you’re sitting right next to me,” Ren argued in person.

FUTABA
: Phantom Thieves talk

REN
: Oh sorry.

FUTABA
: do you think we could go to Mementos today?

REN
: What for?

FUTABA
: there’s this new friend I made, but she got mixed up with this nasty nightclub owner

FUTABA
: I really wanna change his heart

REN
: I think Mishima just texted me about him.

REN
: Takashi Aramaki, right?

FUTABA
: that’s him

FUTABA
: NPC-kun really did us a solid, eh?

REN
: lol

REN
: Mementos, you say?  I think I can manage that.

REN
: Good idea to keep our skills sharp before for our next Palace mission.

REN
: By the way, Futaba, this friend of yours…

REN
: Where did you meet her?  Was it someone online, or…?

FUTABA
: actually, I’d rather wait and tell you more when we all meet up

REN
: Alright, Futaba.  I’ll call up the gang.

FUTABA
: …

REN
: AFTER I’m done breakfast.

Sojiro hadn’t been reading what the two youngsters were texting about, but he felt the need to ask, “Hey, what are you guys doing, texting when you’re sitting right next to each other?”
 
“You know Futaba,” bluffed Ren.
 
“And you were making such good progress, too…” Sojiro muttered, although he found it easier just to leave the matter be.
 
Within an hour of finishing breakfast, Ren had summoned all of the Phantom Thieves to their hideout in Leblanc’s attic.  Ann was the first to meet them, followed by Ryuji, Makoto Niijima, Haru Okumura, and lastly Yusuke Kitagawa, whose lateness was due to him getting off the train at the next-earlier station and walking the rest of the way.  This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and as before, he explained that he was trying to save on train fare. “You know, Yusuke,” Makoto admonished him, “it’s only an extra thirty yen.”
 
“Yeah, bro!” added Ryuji.  “If you gotta bum a ride off us, just let us know.  I can spot ya the change!”
 
“Enough already.”  The voice that said this came from among their feet.  It was Morgana, in cat form, who leaped up the sofa and onto the table everyone was crowded around.  Ren gave him an appreciative pat down the back of his neck. Purring contentedly, he continued, “So, Joker, what did you bring us all here for?”
 
“Actually,” interrupted Futaba, “it was my idea.  There’s someone I’d really like us to go after in Mementos.  But before we do… there’s something else I have to tell you.”  She stood up beside Ann and rested a hand atop her shoulder, for physical and emotional support.  “Ann and I… We’ve been taking belly dancing lessons.”
 
Ryuji, who had not been paying them his complete attention, exclaimed “..Huh?  For real!?”
 
“Yeah, dummy, you were with us when we told you!”, Ann snapped
 
“Oh, right, that.  You don’t gotta be so mean about it…”
 
Morgana leant his feline body forward in Ann’s direction as he chimed in, “No way!  You’re a belly dancer, Lady Ann? That’s sooo cool! I can’t wait to see what sort of lovely costumes you-- hey!”
 
Before the cat’s comments got too pervy, Ren gave him a firm tap on his head.  “That’s enough, Mona-kun,” he warned. “Don’t make me ‘button-mash’ you.” That swiftly shut up Morgana, who remembered all too well the time a child thought he was some sort of toy that meowed when his head was touched, and Ren subjected him to a flurry of sharp pats just to mess with him.
 
Turning her attitude on a dime, Ann smiled and explained how they each discovered baladi: Ann through her part-time modelling career, and Futaba through her love of ancient Egypt and her need to keep herself sane in the wake of her mother’s death.  She also mentioned their teacher, Maiko, and how she had many years of first-hand experience from living in Egypt.
 
Makoto listened to their brief tales attentively.  When they finished, she told them, “Those are some very interesting reasons for trying out belly dance.  Futaba, I’m glad you were able to discover something to cope through all your trauma. And Ann, I’ve also heard how belly dance is gaining popularity just as a form of exercise.  I think it’s wonderful how you’ve found a workout programme that you’re both enjoying.”
 
Futaba began to blush at all the praise being heaped upon her.  “You mean… you’re not mad ‘cause you think we’re just learning to show off our bodies for thirsty men?”
 
“Oh no, perish the thought!”, Makoto gently insisted, “We all know you better than that!  There’s nothing wrong with a woman presenting herself in such a manner, within reason. If they weren’t allowed to act sexy when they so choose, that would be just as restrictive as if they were forced into sexual situations they’re not comfortable with.”
 
“She’s right, you know,” added Ann.  “When I work as a model, most of the time I’ve got no problem wearing swimsuits or other stuff like that.  I know that it’s a safe environment, and I always have a choice in whether I take the job or not. But when someone like Kamoshida tries to make me do stuff like that, well, that’s when I just gotta say ‘no’.”
 
“Well put, Ann!  In the end, that’s how I would define feminism: women should be able to assert their feminine spirit as they desire, without feeling that they’re supposed to because of what other men wish.”  Makoto paused, taking confidence in the way her friends nodded in agreement. “Then again, this kind of dancing could also help to build your self-confidence, if you do ever decide to land a man.”

Or woman

, Ann thought.  The feelings she harboured for her best friend, Shiho Suzui, were growing ever more complex with each stage of her recovery.  But she thought better of derailing the conversation at hand, for the moment. For now, she responded with, “Ooh, that’s a really good point, Mako-chan!  In fact, our teacher told us that belly dance isn’t meant to be sexy, but that it just sorta… happens, you know?”
 
Makoto nodded.  “I think I know what you mean.  That reminds me of what they teach us in aikido.  You have these kids who join, thinking they’ll learn how to beat people up, but they’re taught not to start fights with the skills they learn.  It’s more about the discipline they build through their training.”
 
“Except we don’t have to worry about breaking our hands on boards or anything like that,” joked Futaba.  She was met with scattered giggling for her efforts.
 
“Um…” asked Haru, “by chance, you wouldn’t be taking your classes at the Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio, would you?”
 
“Yes, why?”, Futaba answered.
 
“Wonderful!  I take ballet lessons there myself!”
 
“I should’ve known…”  Now that she brought it up, Futaba did recall seeing a girl like her when she and Ann signed up for their own class, although it had been before she was formally introduced to Haru.  “That’s really neat, Haru-chan!”
 
“Thanks!  If I may ask, what is belly dancing like?  What skills do you have to learn?”
 
“Well, if I had to describe it…  Our teacher told us that the most important skill is being able to isolate all the parts of your body.  In other words, it should look like your arms, shoulders, chest, lower body, and legs are all moving separately from one another, so your motions look all fluid and stuff.  Apart from that, the legs do a lot of the work. When we shake our hips, that’s actually our knees bending to lift and lower our legs. Am I making sense so far?”
 
“Yes, Futaba-chan.”  Haru listened to her friend’s description with a dreamy look in her eyes.  “You make it sound so graceful. I may just try it out for myself!”
 
Futaba blushed further.  “Aww… Thanks, Haru.”
 
“I would also be interested in witnessing what your dance is like,” Yusuke chimed in.  “If I’m not mistaken, the art of belly dance has its origins in the Middle East, correct?”
 
“Pretty much.  Egypt and Turkey, to be exact.”  With this, Futaba shifted into full-on otaku mode as she explained the differences between the major styles of

raqs baladi

,

raqs sharqi

, and

oryantal dans

, which differed in the showiness of their moves and costumes.  “What we’re learning is more like

raqs sharqi

, which literally means ‘Eastern dance’, but our teacher likes to call it ‘baladi’ for some reason.  You think she would know better, but I’ve gotta admit, it’s convenient and even sounds cool.”
 
“That was quite informative, Futaba,” Yusuke responded, following along better than anyone else present could boast.  “You know, I myself have drawn inspiration from the art and literature of the Arabian world on previous occasions. Did you know there was a character in the tale of ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’ named Morgiana?”
 
“Did you say Morgana?” mewed the eponymous cat.
 
“Not quite, Mona.  Morgiana--” he pronounced it with a hard ‘j’ sound “--was a clever slave girl who went behind her master’s back to assist the hero.  Not unlike our own Phantom Thieves and our approach to justice.”
 
“Coolio…” said Futaba.  She was, of course, familiar with that and many other stories from the

One Thousand and One Nights

canon, since she had previously used “Alibaba” as her hacker alias.
 
“Quite so.  I am also familiar with the Orientalist paintings of the nineteenth-century French Romantic period.  I shan’t say I haven’t been enticed by their alluring depictions of odalisques, but at the same time, I have grown to question their authenticity.”
 
The esoteric eloquence with which Yusuke painted his verbal images left everyone confused, most of all Ryuji.  “Umm… dude? What the eff are you talking about?”
 
“Ah, forgive me.  I was referring to old pictures of harem women.”
 
Futaba, who filled in the blanks with her own vocabulary, added, “And you’re saying you think they’re sexy, but problematic?  As in, ‘hashtag’ problematic?”
 
“You could put it that way.  While I would not deny people the pleasure of enjoying works like those on a base level, I myself desire knowledge of the true experience behind them.  And the same can be said of your dancing. Would either of you two be averse to giving us a small demonstration of your abilities?”
 
“What?” Ann asked, before suddenly remembering her promise to Ryuji.  “Oh, of course! I’d love to! Futaba, what do you think?”
 
“Sure!  I think you’re all ready.”
 
“Hold up,” interjected Ryuji, “we ain’t heard from Ren-Ren yet.  I mean, we all gotta agree on something before we do it, right?” After all, their unanimous-decision rule was created by Ryuji himself.
 
“You’re right.”  As Futaba had her own nascent affections for Ren, she found it difficult to find the right words and speak them out loud, but she managed to ask, “Ren… what do you think about us doing… you know… belly dance?”
 
Their leader was at a temporary loss for words.  The other thieves waited patiently yet eagerly as Joker collected his thoughts.  “Well… I knew almost nothing about belly dancing before talking with you guys. I haven’t even seen it in person myself; just in a couple of movies and anime.  And I’m not gonna lie, I was kind of interested in those scenes for more… obvious reasons.” He gave a raise of his eyebrows in Ryuji’s direction, and was met with a knowing grin.  “I certainly wouldn’t have imagined anybody I knew trying out that sort of thing. But hearing that you’ve both started doing it, I’m starting to think there’s more to it than just looking hot.  And I’d love to find out what that is.”
 
Ren got up and talked towards Futaba.  She tensed up inside, but when all he did was give her a light hug, she returned the embrace as he spoke on, “Futaba-chan, you’ve come a long way since we first met you.  Meeting new people, discovering the outside world, and now you’re trying out new hobbies like this… I’m proud of you. As long as you’re okay with doing this, and I’m sure you are, then you have all my support.”  He gently patted the top of her head, a gesture which she had not received since her mother was alive. The warm, fuzzy memories this brought back caused her to clench her friend even tighter.
 
Looking up to face Ann, he added, “The same goes to you, Ann-chan.  I take it you’ve got more experience yourself, not just with dancing, but overall expressing your femininity and stuff.  I just know that you’ll be a wonderful role model for Futaba-chan.”
 
Ann batted her eyes at the compliment, and flashed him a thumbs-up gesture.  “You’ve got it, Joker!” she affirmed with renewed determination.
 
“I hate to break up this tender moment,” Morgana interrupted, “but before we get ahead of ourselves, we came here to discuss a new target in Mementos.”
 
“Oh!  Sorry,” Futaba apologised as she broke off the hug, “we were getting to that.  Let me explain. There’s this older girl in our class who’s the best dancer among us.  But she’s been leaving early every class, and overall didn’t seem so confident about herself.  Ann did some detective work...”
 
“...With Ryuji’s help…”, Ann contributed.
 
Ryuji took the mention of his name as a cue to take over the briefing.  “And she’s working at this nightclub in Shinjuku. She was kinda belly dancing, but it was like… hotter and sexier.”
 
“Basically, Atsuko’s a stripper,” Ann elaborated, starting to feel uncomfortable with the way Ryuji described it.  “She was, like, almost completely naked on stage, and she didn’t look happy about it.” The other women of their group stared in concerned horror, whilst the men and Morgana gave a different sort of gaze, one that furtively inquired for more salubrious details.  Their hopes were dashed when she continued, “On top of that, she said her manager’s been holding most of the money she earns for himself. And if she tries to leave for another gig, they’ll come after her somehow.”
 
This was news even to Ryuji.  “For real? Dude, that is so effed up…”
 
“She’s not the only one.”  Futaba opened up Atsuko’s Phan-Site post on her phone, which was now followed by multiple comments written by other girls under the same plight.  Apparently, Atsuko’s willingness to step forward, even if it was filtered through Futaba herself, gave others the courage to corroborate her claims.  It gave her and Ann a quantum of hope to know that the desire to do good in the world, however small the deeds may be, were able to spread from person to person.  As the Thieves read these comments, their own determination grew as well.
 
Ann continued the briefing.  “Even I got an e-mail from this place offering me work as a belly dancer.  Ryuji and I went over, just to see what it was like. I didn’t take the job myself, but I got to see their manager in person, and, well…  He’s a total creep.”
 
“We think he might even be Yakuza,” added Ryuji.  “No way to prove it, but it just kinda feels like it, ya know?  Reminds me of Kaneshiro.” All the Thieves who were in the party when they stole Kaneshiro’s heart murmured in agreement.
 
“Yakuza or not,” declared Ann, “we have to help our friend.  She believes in belly dance being more than just sexy pandering, but she’s being taken advantage of by somebody who doesn’t see it that way, and I will never forgive him!  Let’s do this! Not just for her, but all those other ladies he’s ensnared for who knows how long!”
 
“I’m with ya, Ann!” cheered Ryuji.  “Let’s bring the smack down on that d-bag and save those girls!”
 
“Alright, then,” Morgana asked, “any objections?”
 
“Wait!”  The cry of dissention came from Futaba.  This shocked the other team members, since no one had ever objected to hunting down a Mementos target before.  But she explained, “It’s not about the target, but… didn’t you guys want to see a dance demo from Ann and me?” Everyone murmured in agreement.  “Well, I was thinking we might want to get it over with now, ‘cause if we wait until we come back from the Metaverse, we’ll be all tired out. Or at least Ann will…” she added, thinking about how she herself spent most of her exploration time cooped up within Necronomicon, her personal UFO Persona.  Then again, she still had her own problems with staying awake sometimes…
 
“You’ve got a good point,” agreed Ren.  He considered the prospect of getting Kawakami to give them one of her maid massages, but thought better of taking advantage of her like that, not to mention getting her personally involved with so many of his other friends.  Instead, he merely asked, “How long would it take for you to show us a sample?”
 
“Oh, not long.  We’ve already got routines we’re working on for our recital in a couple of weeks.”
 
“A recital?” said Haru.  “My, good luck!”
 
“Thanks, Haru-chan”, Futaba said, bowing slightly in her direction.  To Ren and the others, she added, “They’re only a couple of minutes each.  We have the music already on our phones.”
 
Ren continued, “Do you need to change?  I’m sure you can use the toilet downstairs.”
 
“Thanks.  I’ve got my workout clothes right here,” she answered, indicating a plastic bag she had laid on the floor nearby.  “You got yours, Ann?”
 
Ann nodded and patted her shoulder bag, where she had brought her own change of clothes.  “I’m good. We’ll be right back, guys,” she said as she got up and headed downstairs, Futaba following closely.
 
When Futaba and Ann returned upstairs a minute later, now dressed in their sport bras and tights, their friends stared at them in appreciative awe.  Of course they were used to them wearing skin-tight clothing in the Metaverse, but nothing prepared them for the way these particular outfits drew attention to their figures.  As Morgana leapt into Ren’s lap, he told Ann, “You look as ravishing as ever, Lady Ann!”, earning himself a warning pat from his owner, who let up when he added, “Ah! …You too, Futaba!”
 
If the cat had meant anything perverted from his compliment, Futaba paid it no mind.  “Aww, thanks Mona-chan!” she said sweetly. “How about, I’ll go first?”
 
Ann nodded and sat down on the sofa with the other girls, while Futaba laid her phone on the table and queued up her performance song.  “Keep the volume down,” advised Makoto, “so we don’t disturb the customers downstairs.”
 
“I don’t think I saw anyone besides Boss this early in the day,” Ren corrected, “but that would be a good idea.”
 
“Alright,” Futaba agreed as she turned her phone’s speaker volume down a couple of notches, and pressed play.  Taking a spot in the loft’s open space, she held her pose until the song’s opening notes hit her ears and she sprung into motion.  Ever since she started working with Maiko, Futaba had introduced new and improved elements into her dance routine. She followed up some of her hip-lift combos with a “baladi kick”, allowing her to transition smoothly and stylishly into different steps, and thanks to her additional training, she was able to replace some of her shimmy bursts with more prolonged sequences.  She still had yet to settle on specific arm and hand positions, but nobody present paid any mind to that aspect. On the contrary, they applauded her with gusto as soon as she struck her final pose.
 
Grinning broadly from all the positive attention, Futaba bowed and went over to Ann, giving her a high-five.  “Baton Pass!”, she called for effect.
 
“Now you’re talkin’!”, Ann joked in response.  She rested her own phone on the table once Futaba picked hers back up, and set up the video she was rehearsing from.  The music she used was faster and funkier than Futaba’s selection, with sharp, energetic percussion. Her choreography took greater advantage of her own talents and, with plenty of hip pops, chest bumps, and shoulder shimmies, drew attention to her more fully-developed chest.  She ended her dance in a pose where she leant forward at the waist, one hand coquettishly brushing some hair aside from her face, and her cleavage pushed toward her guests. Playing up the moment, she even blew a kiss to no one in particular. The applause she received was even wilder than with Futaba, especially from the boys.  Ann took their attention in stride, returning it with a cheerful “Thank you, thank you!”
 
Ren was the first to share his thoughts to the two dancers.  “Wow, that was amazing, both of you! It’s like, you expressed different sides of belly dance, and I’m intrigued by both of them.  Wonderful work! I look forward to seeing more from both of you!”
 
“Aww, thanks, Ren-kun!”, Futaba said as she and Ann hugged him together.
 
“You’re both welcome.”  Right now, Ren felt like the luckiest boy in the world.  He basked in the moment as long as he could, but eventually his mind was clouded by reality.  “So… are you guys ready to go now?”
 
“Ah!”  Futaba suddenly broke off the hug.  “Sorry. Just let me and Ann get changed, and we’ll be ret-2-go!”
 
“Alright!” shouted Ryuji.  “Watching you gals really fired me up!”
 
“Indeed,” added Yusuke.  “A display like yours deserves better than to be tainted by the chauvinistic demands of this Aramaki person.  Truly, he deserves no forgiveness!”
 
“So, we’re all ready?” asked Morgana.  He was met by nods from everyone present.  “Good. Then, all that’s left is to take down the target in Mementos.  Let’s go!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sunday, 16 October 20XX, Daytime

Path of Adyeshach, Mementos

With the recent defeat of Kunikazu Okumura’s Shadow and the increased public attention his change of heart brought to the Phantom Thieves, for good or for ill, a new passage had opened up in the depths of Mementos.  Its reddish-hazed, bone-strewn scenery made for an unsettling ambience, even more so than the last section they encountered. Despite their unease, Oracle’s scanning and Mona’s instincts led them on a direct route to an out-of-the-way section that appeared unusually twisted, as if a strong desire was warping the world around it.  A swirling vortex stood in front of the van that was Morgana’s form in Mementos. “That’s the place,” Mona spoke through his speakers. “You guys ready?”
 
“Let’s do this,” affirmed Joker.  He nodded to Queen, who drove them through the vortex.
 
On the other side, beyond the buffers that terminated the train tracks underneath them, they came across a man standing alone on a stretch of flat, stony ground.  Amidst the dark energy emanating from under his feet, Panther instantly identified him from his mismatched suit. “That’s him,” she confirmed. “Aramaki.”
 
Joker nodded and grunted in approval as he and the others stepped out of the cat-van, which poofed back into Mona’s anthropomorphic Metaverse form.  The Thieves formed up behind Joker, and followed him to face the Shadow Aramaki. From the way the Shadow instantly let his attention lay upon Panther, he was not looking for a fight just yet.  ”Lookie lookie,” he mused aloud, “what do we got here? Those legs… That red latex… And you’re white...ish! You got just the exotic appeal I like!”
 
By now, Panther was used to the differences between Shadows and the real people they represented.  This cognitive version of Aramaki had no knowledge of the real Ann Takamaki, even if he could identify her behind her mask.  But she had not been addressed directly in such a manner, and that threw off her composure. “A… Are you talking to me!?”
 
“Yeah!  Now how’s about you ditch those weirdos and give me a private dance?”
 
Before Panther could argue, Skull snapped back, “Weirdos?  Are you effin’ kidding me?”
 
“So,” Fox mused aloud, “your fascination with oriental dance is naught but a fetish.  You are crushing the dreams of those women who see it as more than that!”
 
“We’re shutting you down,” Panther affirmed with vigour, “for the sake of all those girls you’ve enslaved!”
 
“Enslaved?  Ha! You don’t know the meanin’ of the word!”  As he said this, Shadow Aramaki dissolved in a burst of dark, flame-like energy, and immediately reformed himself as a Raja Naga, a powerfully-built man with the lower body of a giant snake.  The Phantom Thieves lined up to face him, with Joker calling Mona, Skull, and Panther with him to the front lines. Fox, Queen, and Noir took cover behind random objects, and Oracle beamed herself into Necronomicon, as per usual.  No sooner did they get into formation than the snakeman lifted his arms and chanted in an indecipherable language.
 
Upon the end of his incantation, two more figures were summoned to his side.  They were slim, statuesque women with unearthly yellow skin. They wore silken, midriff-baring robes, accented by arrays of red beads, and atop their heads stood golden crowns with skull ornaments.  With long, curved swords held in each of their hands, they stood ready to attack.
 
“Those are Dakini…” Queen mused as she surveyed the situation from afar.  “In Hindu mythology, they are servants of Kali, the destroyer goddess.”
 
“If I’m not mistaken,” added Fox, “the name ‘Dakini’ means ‘sky dancer’ in Sanskrit.  Quite a fitting appellation, considering Aramaki’s line of business.” Even he had to smirk at this coincidence.
 
“Uh… Fox?” argued Panther.  “Something tells me they’re not here to dance for us…  Hey, Oracle?”
 
“Yo!”
 
“You got any dirt on these… things?”
 
“Let me see…”  Aboard the Necronomicon, Oracle consulted her ship’s on-board Shadow database.  It scanned the identities of the three monsters, but came up with no results. Apologetically, she admitted, “Sorry, I’ve got nothing!  You’re on your own!”
 
“Even if we did know their weaknesses,” Joker thought out loud, “powerful Shadows like these tend to have unique abilities compared to more common monsters of the same type.  Everybody, stay on your guard!”
 
“Roger!” called Mona.  Taking the initiative, he called out for his own Persona, Zorro.  Channeling its might, he threw a Miracle Punch at one of the Dakini.  The impact of the punch transcended Mona’s own tiny body, and struck the monster with such force that she doubled over and crumpled to the ground.  “Yeah, critical hit!” he cheered. “Skull, finish her off for me!”
 
Mona leaped up to give Skull a high-five as he called out, “You got it, Mona!  Captain Kidd!” The red mask on Skull’s face burned away in painless blue flames, and behind him arose his Persona.  Skull pointed at the downed Dakini and shouted, “Assault Dive!” His pirate-ship Persona dove straight at her, bow-first.  As its prow skewered her squarely in the chest, the Shadow wailed in pain and dissolved into primordial gloop. Skull pumped his fist up and cheered, “Aw, yeah!”, the mask re-forming on his face.  His victory was short-lived, however, as the other Dakini struck at him with her dual-wielded blades.
 
Mona caught this attack out of the corner of his eye.  “Skull!”, he called, “be careful!”
 
“No ****, Mona!” he argued angrily.
 
“Enough of this…” Joker grumbled.  Summoning one of his own Personas, Lachesis, he cast a Marakunda spell on all of the monsters.  “Guys, I’ve lowered their defences,” he instructed to his teammates. “Hit ‘em with whatever you’ve got, and find their weaknesses!”
 
“You got it, Joker!”  Skull had recovered from the Dakini’s attack, and called Captain Kidd forth once more to attack with Mazionga.  Out of thin air, a series of lightning bolts struck both of the remaining monsters. The Dakini convulsed in pain from the electricity coursing through its body, but the Raja Naga seemed unfazed.  “He ain’t weak to electricity?”, Skull said in disbelief. “You gotta be kiddin’ me!”
 
“Let me try, Skull,” offered Panther.  Pointing to the Dakini, she said, “Carmen…  Maragion!” As her own Persona blinked into existence, bursts of fire exploded point-blank in front of the monsters.  This hurt the Raja Naga considerably more, but the Dakini, conversely, showed fewer signs of damage.

Not good…

thought Joker.

One of these guys is immune to lightning, and the other’s strong against fire.  I should call in some replacements… Fox and Noir should do nicely.

Before he had a chance to swap in any of his reserve teammates, he felt a change in his cognition.  Oracle had hacked the Metaverse to bringing him and his active party members more in-tune with the cognitive world around them.  They all felt charged and focused, so they would be able to do more damage with their next attacks. Power coursing through his body, Skull called back, “Yeah, this rocks!  Thanks, Oracle!”
 
Joker, on the other hand, was more concerned.  If he sent any of his current fighters off to the sidelines, whomever filled in the gap would not have the same strength buffs.  Then again, there were no guarantees he could exploit his enemies’ weaknesses with Fox’s ice or Noir’s psychic powers either. Besides, he had recently been experimenting with this kind of strategy to dish out stronger attacks.  For the moment, he merely looked in Skull’s direction and warned, “Don’t get too confident, Sk-- Aah!”
 
The Raja Naga had just blind-sided him with a strike to the head.  Mona spotted his leader cradle his head in pain and asked, “You okay, Joker?  Want me to heal you?”
 
“Yeah, it’s fine, Mona…”  Despite his words, the shock and pain of the blow hurt Joker more than he cared to admit.  He cradled his head with one hand, where a narrow trickle of blood had started to flow, indistinguishable from the red colour of his gloves.  Still, it would be nothing to have Mona cure this little injury.
 
“Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay?  There’s no shame in asking me to…” Mona trailed off as his attention drifted to the Dakini, who was sensuously swaying her hips from side to side.  Joker stole a glance of his own at the dancing demon lady, as did Skull and Panther. No music was physically playing from anywhere, but some sort of rhythmic sensation pulsed within the minds of her onlookers, its tempo matching her movements.  As the heroes stared on, their unblinking gaze tracking the gentle rocking of her belly button, an additional voice played in their heads. To the unaffected onlooker, the monster would appear to be speaking in an unfamiliar language, similar to that of the male beast who had summoned herself into being.  But to her victims, it reverberated within their minds, crystal-clearly, in plain Japanese.

Gaze upon me…  Follow my lovely belly…  Watch it move back and forth… back and forth…  You want me… I am your heart’s desire… I am yours…  But only yours. Prove your devotion to me, and strike down any who would stand in your way!

Oracle, and the other reserve members, also looked on the unfolding situation with great curiosity.  “What’s going on…?”, she mused aloud. “Is she… dancing?” The filters through which she witnessed the outside world protected her from the Dakini’s hypnotic spell, but that was the least of her worries.    “Oh, crud!”, she gasped. “It’s a Brain Jack attack! She’s brainwashing you all!” As Oracle spoke this warning, an even worse thought had crossed her mind. Since she had just amplified the strength of their next attacks, the team could, almost literally, tear themselves apart!  Especially Joker, who wasn’t in the best of conditions already. If the other Thieves turned their weapons on him, he would be done for! And all because she had tried to meddle in the battle herself! “No…” she wept, “we’re screwed… I can’t watch!” She hugged her legs, buried her face in her arms, and let the wavering tears flow from her eyes.
 
On the battlefield below, Mona developed a murderous gleam in his unfocused eyes.  While Joker was still transfixed upon the dancing Dakini, he slashed his curved sword across his back.  Joker screamed in pain and knelt to the floor, only to turn his head and stare back at the mutant cat. “You think you can toy with me, you little…!”  Leaping from his crouched position, he drove his knife down the top of Mona’s oversized head.
 
“Myeeeooow!”, Mona yelped in agony.  Before Joker could pull the knife out, Mona senselessly ran about, dragging his attacker with him.  This farcical display of betrayal elicited a discrete chuckle from the Raja Naga. All the while, the Dakini’s voice repeated itself endlessly within each of their heads.

Yes… my slaves… tear him limb from limb!

But there was one fighter who hadn’t fallen victim to the Dakini’s spell… and of all people, it was Skull.  “Brainwash my friends, will ya?” With fury in his heart, he leapt at the demoness and brought his metal pipe crashing down upon her skull.  The impact dissolved her into a lifeless puddle, just like her comrade before her, but the worst was far from over.
 
Despite the demise of the Dakini who had brainwashed her, Panther was still under the effects of her spell.  Bearing a malicious grimace, she stepped toward Joker.

Do it…

teased the voice within her head,

kill the Joker… kill the Trickster!

Joker looked on Panther’s glossy red boots stepped into view.  Too weak to turn his head up to face her, but still consumed by malice, he spitefully spat at her feet.  Panther seemed not to notice as she stretched out her whip and murmured the mantra looping within her head.  “Kill the Joker… Kill the Trickster!”
 
Joker groaned, “Just try me, you b--”
 
“Panther!  Snap out of it!”
 
His dare was interrupted by the sound of a sharp slap.  The source of that slap was none other than Skull. He had procured a comically-oversized paper fan from who-knows-where, and smacked Panther in the back of her head with it.  “A Harisen Recovery…” Noir softly narrated for the other reserves. “That should break the Dakini’s spell on her!”
 
“Huh?”  Jerked upright from the sudden sound of Skull’s Harisen Recovery, Oracle nervously peeked up at the scene unfolding before her.  She saw Panther standing over the badly-beaten Joker, trying to understand the situation she had just woken herself up to. From the looks of things, she once again had agency over her own actions.  “It’s a miracle!”, Oracle shouted with joy. “Panther, find some Relax Gel! We’ve got to cure Joker and Mona!”
 
“No!”, Panther protested, “that… that

thing

will just attack us again!  If he hits Joker, we’re done for!  I have to end this here and now!” Her mind still sharp from the concentration hack Oracle had performed, she willed her Persona into being one more time.  Pointing to the Raja Naga, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Aramaki! You want your dance? You’ll get your ****ing dance! Carmen… Agidyne!” As soon as she gave the command, a roaring column of fire erupted from beneath the monster’s underbelly.  It roared in anguish as he was consumed by the inferno, until finally his screams cut off, the flames subsided, and there was nothing left where it once stood.
 
With the demise of the threats, the brainwashing spell Joker and Mona were ensnared in finally dissipated.  Joker blinked several times to adjust his vision. He asked, “Is it… dead?”, but the effort of speaking sent a ripple of pain through his mortally-wounded body, and he hissed in agony, collapsing to the ground.
 
The remaining party members cautiously emerged from their cover.  “Oh my gosh!” Noir gasped, running to Joker’s side. “Are you alright?”
 
“They will be,” answered Queen.  “Johanna!” Her motorcycle Persona formed itself from between her legs.  “Mediarama!” With that command, she drove a lap around her injured allies, releasing healing magic that mended their wounds and invigorated them anew.
 
As the strength flowed once again through his body, Joker stood up and felt himself where he had taken damage.  He felt no sign of any cuts or bruises. Looking down at Mona, he brushed his head where he had stabbed him only minutes before.  All the fur covering that spot masked the true extent of the damage, but from what Joker could detect, Mona’s injuries had also abated.
 
Oracle beamed down from her spaceship Persona.  “Guys,” she regretfully announced, “I’m sorry for almost getting you killed.  If it weren’t for my little assistance, I wouldn’t have put you all in so much danger.”
 
“Aw, don’t worry about it, Oracle!”, Panther said as she gave her ally a comforting hug.  “I wouldn’t have been able to take down that beast so soon if it weren’t for your boost!” Looking back to Skull, she added, “And thanks to you too, Skull.  If you hadn’t snapped me out of that, I… I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened…”
 
“Ah, don’t worry yourself, Panther,” replied Skull, “I’d do anything for my buddies!”  He nervously scratched behind his head and walked up to the two girls. “And by the way, Oracle, I just wanna apologise for what I said to ya when you told me about… you know.  I didn’t know nothin’ about belly dancing back then. I’m sorry for being such an effin’ idiot.”
 
“You mean, more of an idiot than usual?”, Oracle teased.  Watching him tense up for a second, she laughed and added, “Only kidding, Skull!  Apology accepted!”
 
“That reminds me…” said Joker.  He turned around to find Shadow Aramaki, back in his original form, standing with his head hung in shame.  Aiming his pistol at him, Joker asked, “Why do you keep making all those promising young dancers take part in that perverted spectacle you call belly dancing?”
 
In his defeated state, the Shadow Aramaki was somehow no longer able to lie about his desires.  “I’ve always liked belly dancing, but I don’t know that much about it, ‘neither… I just like it because it’s exotic, or something.”
 
“There’s more to the art of

raqs baladi

than that.”
 
“So what?  You’re tellin’ me it’s only right for belly dancing or whatever you call it to only be shown as art?”
 
“I never said that.  But some of those dancers you’ve ‘hired’ won’t get the chance to follow their dreams with you forcing them into sleazy roles for your own gratification.  Why won’t you let them quit?”
 
“I just wanna keep them around so I can enjoy some of that action at my beck and call.”
 
“Action?”, Panther interjected.  “Wait a minute! You’re not doing anything… personal with them!?”
 
“Depends on what you mean, but… yeah.”
 
“Oh my God…” she gasped.  “What about Atsuko Saito?”
 
“Her?  You mean Atsu-Atsu?  I haven’t touched her, yet.”
 
Panther breathed a sigh of relief as Skull chimed in, “And what about the money you’re keepin’ from them?”
 
“It’s…  Yakuza business.”
 
“I knew it!”
 
“I’d give it back, but…”
 
“Find a way,” demanded Joker.  “You don’t have to let them go, unless they want to, but let them wear what they want.  Let them dance how they want. You’d be surprised how much attention they can still draw.”
 
Oracle stepped up.  “I’ll tell you something my teacher told me.  ‘Belly dancing isn’t meant to be sexy; it just happens.’  Think about that.”
 
Once these words sunk in, Aramaki faded into an orb of pulsating light, the Treasure left behind by his Shadow.  Joker grabbed at it, and it transformed into a bundle of green clothes. Mona leapt up onto his shoulder for a closer look.  “What did he leave behind?”
 
“I don’t know…”  He unfolded the clothes, which turned out to be a pair of baggy pantaloons and a silken bra.
 
“Ooh, it’s a Battle Bedlah!  We should have Lady Ann try it on!”
 
“H… hey!”, Panther protested.  “Don’t I get a say in this?”
 
Joker smirked at the thought, but shook his head.  “Sounds tempting, but it doesn’t look like it’ll offer that much protection.”
 
“Oh!”, Futaba chimed in, “why not give it to me?  I don’t fight on the front lines, and it gets kinda stuffy up in Necronomicon, too!”
 
“You sure you’re okay with that?”
 
“Uh-huh!  In fact, that reminds me of something I wanna tell you guys sometime…”
 
As the re-transformed Mona drove them back into Mementos proper, Oracle described her dream, leaving out some of the more troubling elements, but capturing her friends’ imaginations with the mental image of Alibaba, the second Phantom Thief identity she had dreamed up for herself.  She knew it would never actually happen, even ignoring the prospect of taking on a second Persona, but nonetheless it gave her confidence and determination to help out her allies, and in herself.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Monday, 17 October 20XX, DaytimeShujin Academy, Aoyama 1-chomeFutaba and Ann were on pins and needles since their victory in Mementos.  Given the Phantom Thieves’ recent misfortunes, there was no guarantee that a change of heart would turn out as they would have expected.  The tension was such that Ann herself could hardly sit still at school the next day, not helped by all the excitement and planning for the school festival being held the next week.  She couldn’t help herself from calling Atsuko when her scheduled lunch break gave her some free time.  Stepping out into the hall, Ann keyed in her phone number and, expecting a voicemail recording, was surprised to hear Atsuko actually pick up on the other end.  “Moshi-moshi?” she greeted.“Atsuko-senpai?  It’s Ann…”“Oh… hi, Ann!  I told you, you don’t have to call me senpai,” she said with a giggle.Judging from that response, Atsuko seemed in better spirits, but Ann was not completely at ease just yet.  “Yeah… sorry.  I just called to see how you were doing.”“Thanks for your concern, Ann.  I’m feeling… a lot better actually.”“You are?  That’s a relief!  …You weren’t at the… at the club last night, were you?”“I was, but…”  Ann’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for Atsuko to choose her next words.  “…he was a lot nicer to me last night.”  It was understood between the two of them whom “he” was in this context, namely, Takashi Aramaki.“Well, thank God you’re safe, Atsuko.  So, I wanted to get together one more time with you and Futaba.  Can we meet sometime this week, after I get out of school?”“That would be lovely.  Would you like to come to my apartment?  It’s right by Kichijoji Station; I can meet you there.  Does that work for you?”“Of course, we can do that.  So when would you like to meet up?”  Ann gave her the time her school day usually ended.“That’s early enough; I’ll be available.  What about Futaba?”“Oh, she’s home-schooled.”  This was half-true, but Atsuko didn’t need all the details of her formerly-shut-in friend’s situation.“I see…  Yes, that will work.  Is tomorrow fine?  I… well, I kind of want to work one more night at the club, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”Ann’s brow sank out of worry.  “Well… just be safe out there, okay?”“I’ll be careful.  See you tomorrow, Takamaki-san, and… thanks for everything.”Tuesday, 18 October 20XX, After SchoolAtsuko Saito’s apartment, KichijojiTrue to her word, Atsuko was waiting for Ann and Futaba as they crossed the ticket gates at Kichijoji Station.  Ann was still wearing her school uniform, including the letterman jacket she usually wore on top, and Futaba had on her usual mid-temperature ensemble, with a lightly-filled duffel bag draped across one shoulder.  Atsuko, meanwhile, wore a tunic and leggings combo similar to what she had worn before, although this time she kept her blazing hair loose.  Upon laying eyes on her friends, Atsuko took a few cautious steps in their direction before breaking down, running at them and hugging both at once.  She blinked away the misty veils of tears that were forming in her eyes as she whispered, “I’m so glad to see you again, Ann… you too, Futaba-chan.”Ann gave her a brief squeeze in return.  “Same here, Atsuko-sen… Atsuko.”Futaba, failing to sense the mood of the moment, subtly tried to break away from the group embrace and said, “Okay girls, let’s get a move on before we make a scene.”  Ann admonished her friend with a glare, but Atsuko was more understanding, letting go of the hug and leading them to her apartment.The high-rise tower which Atsuko called home was a scant few minutes’ walk away from the station.  They climbed upstairs to the fourth floor and headed down a long, half-open balcony hallway.  Atsuko unlocked one of the doors and held it open with her foot, beckoning in her friends with a slight bow.  The apartment was small, but the arrangement of the limited furniture, and the commanding view over Inokashira Park from the window on the far end, lent the room an airy, open feel.  A narrow kitchen took up about a third of the floor space, and the rest was a carpeted living space.  Among the limited furniture set up at the moment was a kotatsu table in the middle and a pair of dressmaker dummies in the a back corner.The three girls stepped inside and slipped their shoes off beside the door, Futaba taking considerably longer to unlace her thigh-high boots.  Atsuko proceeded to the kitchen and started brewing some tea for her guests.  Catching a glance of her friends staring at the dummies, she asked, “Oh, I never told you what I do, did I?”“Not during the day,” Futaba answered flatly.“I make dresses.  Costumes, mostly.  Work’s been a little slow lately, so I had to do something else for money.  And well, you know…”“I see…” Ann murmured, understandingly.  “So, can you tell us about what happened the other night?”“Okay,” replied Atsuko, “just let me finish this tea.”  She stepped out into the living space, gingerly carrying a tray of teacups and chocolate truffles, and laid the lot down on the table.  Once the three friends were snugly nestled under the kotatsu’s blankets, she poured some matcha from a pitcher, while Ann summoned all her willpower to keep from grabbing one of the chocolates until being served.  Sipping some of the hot tea, Atsuko willed her nerves to calm down and narrated, “When I came in to work for the night, first thing, Takashi called me into his office.  I feared the worst, but when I laid eyes on him, he was down on his hands and knees and wouldn’t stop apologising for the way he treated me.  You should’ve seen it; from the looks of him and his room, it’s like he came down from a bad drug trip!”“Sure, let’s go with that!” Futaba chortled along with her friend.  It sounded silly, but any explanation to cover up for the Phantom Thieves’ actions was appreciated.“Anyway, when he finally settled down, he paid back all the money he held back from my tips, and told me I didn’t have to wear the…”  Even at this point, the mental turmoil of all she had been through caused her to stall.“…Pasties?” Ann filled in.“Right, unless I wanted to.  Which I didn’t.  So, I felt better about dancing after that.”Ann softly rested a hand over one of Atsuko’s.  “Well… as long as you’re happy, Atsuko, I’m happy for you.”“Thank you, Takamaki-san.”Ann blushed at the respect she had been given.  “Aww, you’re welcome.  So, I’m curious, what got you interested in bellydance in the first place?  Before all this happened, with Maiko and Takashi and everyone?”“Well, to be honest, I was actually into ballet since I was little.  I did really well back then; my teacher said I was her favourite student of the class.  But I had to quit when I started growing up…”  She gestured her hands in front of her chest to emphasise which part of her had grown up too much.  “Threw off my balance, if you see what I mean.”“And what happened after that?”, inquired Ann.“Believe it or not, it was that same teacher who recommended moving to bellydance.”Futaba nearly snorted out her tea with badly-suppressed laughter.  “Get out, her?” she teased.  “For real?”“Yes, Futaba.  She said I had an expert level of body control for… pretty much any kind of dance.  And my ‘developments’ wouldn’t be a problem, either.”“So is that when you met Maiko-sensei?”“No, she came along later.  But I have been following her just as long.  She was in some of the first bellydance videos I practiced to.  And when I found out she was moving back to Japan and teaching nearby, I signed up on day one!”“My, uh… dad saw Maiko on TV once on some talk show.  He was really impressed with her.  …And not just for the obvious reasons!”, she added in a panic.  “Actually, that’s kind of why he was so accepting when I told him I was into baladi myself.”“Aww, how nice!  You’re very lucky to have a father like him.”You don’t know the half of it… Futaba thought.“Say, Atsuko”, Ann chimed in, “if you’re a costume maker, have you ever made bellydance dresses?”“A couple.  I even made one for my own recital last year.  Why, do you need one for yours?”“No, I have one.  Futaba also found one, but it doesn’t quite fit her… I was wondering if you could do some alterations for her…?”“What are you talking about?” Futaba began to interrupt, before suddenly flashing upon the Battle Bedlah she and the other Phantom Thieves had won in their fight with Aramaki’s Shadow.  Within the privacy of Necronomicon, she had tried to put it on herself, but discovered to her dismay that it was designed for women of more voluptuous measurements.  “Oh, right.  Can I get it out for you?”With a nod from Atsuko, Futaba squirmed her way out from the kotatsu and rummaged in the duffel bag she had left with their shoes.  She returned holding two pieces of clothing: a small, sleeveless bra, and a not-so-small pair of sirwal pants, both items coloured in vivid green hues.  All in all, they looked just as comfortable for lounging as for dancing.  Atsuko inspected the two items, holding them in different angles and nodding silently to herself.  Once satisfied, she told Futaba, “Yes, I can work with this.  Where did you find this, anyway?”Futaba stammered.  She certainly couldn’t tell her the truth, that they found it in the Metaverse.  But Ann, quick on the draw as ever, threw out a quick “Uhh… a cosplay shop!”“Yeah, cosplay!  There’s this genie character from a video game I was hoping to cosplay for my recital.”  Luckily for Futaba, she had actually entertained this very notion herself every now and then.“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Atsuko beamed.  “A lot of my customers are into cosplay!”“You do any cosplay yourself?” asked Ann.“No, I’ve never had the time to make any costumes for myself.  And besides, for a long time I was nervous about showing myself off for photoshoots.  Once I started performing baladi for other people I thought that would help my nerves, but we all know where that led to…” she sighed.  “It’ll be a while until I can feel comfortable with that sort of thing again.  For now, is it okay if I measure you, Futaba?”“Okay.  Do you have a place for me to change?”“Oh, you don’t have to; just take off your coat, that’ll be fine.”“No, uh…” Futaba objected hurriedly, “I wanted to show you my recital routine when we’re done, so I brought a change of…”“I’d love to see it!  Feel free to change in the bath,” instructed Atsuko, pointing to the bathroom door.  Futaba walked out to the indicated room, and a short minute later, she emerged wearing her two-piece workout gear.  She nervously folded her hands in front of her lap as she walked back in, but Atsuko put her at ease with a smile and an appreciative, “You look great, Futaba-chan.”“Really?”“Of course!  Belly dancing has been really good for you.”“You think so?” Futaba asked as she gave her own belly a feel.  The firmness she had developed made her smirk.  “I guess I have leveled up my body, haven’t I?  Thanks, Atsuko-senpai.”“Yes, well, let’s get you measured up.”  Rummaging around for a tape measure, Atsuko set to work taking all sorts of measurements across Futaba’s body.  She wrote down the size of her bust, hips, and legs onto a nearby pad of paper.  “Okay, I think I’ve got everything I need from you… except your cup size.  Is it fair to assume… A?”“Cruel, but fair.”Atsuko masked her mild offence with a kind half-chuckle.  “A it is, then.”“Say, uh, are you sure Maiko would approve of this costume?  Or my dad, for that matter?”“I’ve been with Maiko-sensei long enough to speak for her, and I’m guessing your father would be fine with the same,” Atsuko mused as she held up the harem pants.  The bikini area was solid and opaque, but the leg sleeves were semi-transparent, just enough to reveal the shape of the wearer’s legs.  “These pants might be a problem, especially for someone your age… I could sew an extra layer of fabric inside to make them harder to see through.  Or, if you want, you could just wear your training tights underneath.”Futaba pondered this choice, wavering internally from one option to the other, before answering, “How about both?”“If you’re comfortable, then sure!  Now, about the top…”  Atsuko put down the sirwal and held up the bra in its place.  “I’ll take down the cup size a few notches, obviously.  I was also thinking of adding a fabric lining along the top and bottom, both for modesty and a more secure fit.  And if that’s not enough to keep it up, I can add some clear straps over the shoulders.  I can also add a row of coins or tassels to accentuate your chest movements, since you don’t have a lot of…”“Okay, I get it!” Futaba cried.  “I’m flat!  Can we please move on?”Her outburst was answered by a hand pressing firmly on her shoulder.  The hand was that of Ann, who had changed into her own two-piece training wear.  “Futaba!” she scolded, “calm down.  No one’s going to judge you for your body.”“She’s right, Futaba.  I mean, look at Yuki-san from our class.  She’s on the chubby side, by her own admission, but she throws herself whole-heartedly into her dancing.  It’s not about how attractive you think you look to other people that matters, it’s about getting them caught up in the moment!”“That’s… a pretty cool way to put it, Atsuko-senpai.  Sorry I yelled at you.”“No problem, Futaba-chan.”“So, Atsuko…” asked Ann, “how much do we owe you for the alterations?”“Oh, I’ll do it for free.”  Ann’s brow lifted in surprise as Atsuko continued, “After all you two have done for me, I couldn’t possibly take any money from you.  But if I could have anything in exchange…” Atsuko paused as her gaze lowered in anxiety, “it would be the answer to a question.  I think I’ve figured it out, and I want to know…  You two are Phantom Thieves.”  Both Ann and Futaba gasped in shock and worriedly glanced at each other, not sure how to react to this accusation.  And yet, Atsuko’s tone of voice remained gentle even as she pressed, “Is this true?”The other two girls spent a silent moment, pleading with their eyes but not daring to make a move, before Ann laid a softer hand upon Futaba’s shoulder and said to Atsuko, “Y… you realise, Atsuko, that is a very serious accusation to make.  If we tell you, and you tell anybody else, anyone at all, they will hunt you down.  You do understand that, do you?”“Oh no, I have no reason to tell anybody else,” Atsuko gently pleaded.  “I swear to keep this knowledge to myself.”“Fine…”  Ann gave one last look at Futaba, as if to ask, Are you sure we should tell her?  Prompted with a solemn nod from her friend, Ann turned back to Atsuko and softly declared, “Yes.  Futaba Sakura and I are both members of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”“I see…  So there are other Phantom Thieves, then?”“Yes.  Of course, we can’t tell you who they are, you do understand.”“Oh, I’m not asking about them.  I just wanted to know about you two.”“How did you find out?” asked Futaba.“It was pretty obvious, to be honest.  When you told me how they operated, you knew a little too much for an outsider.  No offence to your acting abilities, though.”“Yeah, that,” Ann brushed off with a giggle.  “No problem.  But what we said about the Phantom Thieves helping us out with our own problems…  That was also true, for both of us, but I don’t want to get into that right now.”“I understand.  Takamaki-san, Sakura-san… I am in your debt.”  Atsuko made a show of deference, placing her hands flat on the table and bowing.“Thanks, Atsuko,” beamed Ann.  “Now get up, silly!  We’ve got some dances to perform for you!”  The formalities having been broken, Atsuko stood up and slid the kotatsu to an empty side of the living room as Futaba and Ann took turns setting up their tunes, giving them space to perform their recital pieces.  Atsuko reacted to both with light but enthusiastic applause.  Once Ann had taken her final bow, she asked, “So, what did you think?”“Wonderful, both of you.  You’ve come a long way, for sure!  Of course, if you wanted to, I can give you some extra training outside of Maiko-sensei’s classes.  Help you iron out any trouble spots, and maybe add a little flair for your show next week.  What do you say?”Ann looked at Futaba once more for confirmation, and upon receiving another nod of approval, affirmed, “You got it, Atsuko-sensei!  …I mean, just ‘Atsuko’.”“Don’t worry about it, Ann-chan.  You can call me whatever you like.”“So, does that mean you’ll come back to Maiko’s class?”, asked Futaba.“You know what, Futaba-chan?  I’d like that.  See you tomorrow!  And once again, thank you so much for everything.”“Same to you, Atsuko!” Futaba replied.  She and Ann gave one last bow to their host, took turns changing back into their street clothes, and headed out.  As they stepped outside, they gave each other a victorious high-five.  Their mission to rescue their new friend had ended successfully.…But one more challenge lay in their path, a challenge that they were eager to face.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Wednesday, 19 October 20XX, Evening
Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio

Ann and Futaba arrived early for Maiko’s next lesson the following evening, to get some much-needed warmups in.  Ann was in the middle of helping Futaba with some toe-touches when a new person entered the room: Atsuko Saito. Futaba sat up straight, nearly throwing Ann off-balance, as she rushed up to give her other friend a great big hug.  “Atsuko, you made it!” she cheered. “Thanks for keeping your promise.”
 
“Anything for you, Futaba-chan.  And Ann-chan, how are you doing?”
 
“Super, Atsuko.  And you?” Atsuko gave her a smiling nod and a thumbs-up in response.  She said nothing else as she found a spot next to her friends, and slowly warmed up her body until achieving a deep splits stretch.  Futaba eyed her display of flexibility with awe and envy.
 
Maiko entered the studio shortly afterwards.  The six students bowed in unison, Atsuko the deepest and most formally of them all.  “Hello, Maiko-sensei”, she said once she had a spare moment. “I’m sorry for my… sporadic attendance, but I’m ready to give it my all tonight.  I would like to talk to you about what’s been going on, on my end, if you’re available after class? Just between us?”
 
“Anything for my students, Atsuko-san.”  With that, Maiko then went on to make an announcement to the class.  “Now, students, we have less than two weeks left before our recital together, so I’d like to share with you the details.  First, we’ll be holding it in a conference room in the local civic centre. It’s a tatami-style room, so there will be plenty of floor space for us and our audience.  The reason I chose this place is… it was cheaper to rent as opposed to some big auditorium.” Maiko paused in anticipation of some laughter, which she received from her students, before continuing.  “But the other reason is that, since this is my junior class, I don’t want to stress you out by having you perform in front of a big crowd. So, to that end, I will let each of you invite two guests”, she instructed, gesturing with two fingers to emphasise this point.  “I’ll give you time to think about whom you’d like to invite, so just tell me by our last lesson, next Friday.”
 
Futaba raised her hand to ask a question.  “Maiko-sensei,” she inquired, “are you going to film us or anything?  Like, if someone we want to come can’t make it?”
 
“Yes, if you agree to it, I can have your performances recorded, either for private use or for my own video channel.  Meet me after class if you’re interested, one way or the other. As for the programme, most of you have been practising solo routines, but of course I’d like to have all of you share your work on stage, so all of you will take part in a sort of group demonstration.  You’ll go up two at a time, and perform a shorter routine, basically focusing on a couple of moves. Think of it as a

kata

, a test they do in martial arts to prove they’re ready to receive a new rank and belt.  Of course, this will be a chance for you all to rank up to the next hip scarf level. And yes, that’s where I got the idea.”  More laughs from the students followed.
 
“Speaking of, who is bringing their own costume?”  Futaba raised her hand, but was the only girl to do so.  “Just you, Futaba? Alright, I’ll just need to see it ahead of time to make sure it’s suitable.  Any day after class will be fine. Everyone else, I’ll have costumes for you to borrow. Just see me after class to give me your sizes and what colour you’d prefer.  Now, your recital will start at 17:00, next Sunday. I’ll section off part of the room for you to change when you arrive. Think of it as a sort of backstage area. Once the show’s over, we’ll have food for you and our audience.  And there may even be a special guest coming to liven up the party…!”, teased Maiko.
 
The students listened more intently, even though Maiko would not satisfy their curiosity, instead telling them, “Before I forget, we’ll need to set up our group demonstration.  I’m going to pair each of you off and give you a couple of moves to practise. Let’s see… Futaba and Honoka, I’ll put you on… hip shimmies and chest circles. Ayame and Yuki, you’re on hip circles and shoulder shimmies.  And Ann and Atsuko, you’ll be doing and hip drops chest camels. Basically, each of you will repeat both of these moves with different arm positions and steps. Any questions?”

Oh, great, I got paired up with the normie…

thought Futaba.  She was slightly bummed that she wouldn’t be sharing the stage with Ann, but there was no sense in questioning that right now.  Besides, she reasoned, she and Honoka would be dancing separately, if simultaneously, so training with her partner could be secondary to getting down the moves themselves.  To that end, she merely asked, “Maiko-sensei, will we have time to practise that in class?”
 
“As a matter of fact, yes.  We are running out of classes, sadly, and I’m running out of moves to teach you, so I’ll set aside some time in our last few lessons to work on the group show.  I’ll still be around after class to help you with your solos, if you need it. But for now, let’s get to work...”
 
After class, Atsuko excused herself to speak with Maiko in private.  While Futaba was in the middle of rehearsing the moves for her group routine, Honoka approached her and offered, “Futaba-chan, if you like, you could call me over to train together sometime.”
 
The thought had honestly not occurred to Futaba, who very seldom expanded her social circle of her own accord.  “No thanks. I’m training with Ann, ‘cause we’re already friends.” Noticing her hostile tone, she added, “But thank you for the offer.”  She held out her hand to shake, introducing herself.
 
“Honoka Tachibana,” she introduced in turn.  “So, do you like Risette?”
 
“What’s that?” she responded flatly.
 
“Duh, Rise Kujikawa!”  Rise was a pop idol who, unbeknownst to either of them, also had experience wielding Personas during her break from show business, in the rural town of Inaba.  “You’ve, like, got to check out her new video for ‘Rivers In the Desert’. She does this super-cute bellydance routine. It’s what inspired me to try this out myself!”
 
“Sounds cool.  I’m more into KGB48 myself, but I’ll check that out when I can.”  Futaba paused, but before Honoka could leave or say anything else, she murmured, “You know… one of my inspirations was this video game…  It’s has this half-genie girl who--”
 
“Oh, I know the one!” burst out Honoka, “I, like, love that series too!  I even crowd-funded her new game coming up!”
 
“You did?  Wicked cool!”  Futaba put on a playful smugness as she added, “I shelled out for the digital deluxe edition.  You’re welcome.”
 
“O.M.G., that is so awesome!” Honoka squealed, giving Futaba a surprise hug.
 
The sudden contact came as a shock to Futaba, but she willed herself not to resist.  “Great! It’s nice to know I’m not completely weird. Anyway, I’m kinda busy until after the recital, but after that, I’d like to… I don’t know, hang out with you sometime, maybe?”
 
“Okay!”  And with that, Futaba and Honoka spent the rest of the class training together, and exchanging their contact information in the locker room.  To Futaba, her sense of fulfillment came less from what she and Honoka would do specifically, and more with making a new friend in the first place.  Making a new friend of her own accord felt like gaining experience points from clearing a quest, but there was yet a bigger quest for her to focus on.

Sunday, 23 October 20XX, Daytime
Atsuko Saito’s apartment, Kichijoji

Futaba and Ann both had the entire following Sunday free to practice for the recital, especially now that the other Phantom Thieves knew about their secret hobby and were able to allow for their schedules.  They set aside a good chunk of time with Atsuko, both to train and to test out the changes made to Futaba’s costume. Once again, the three girls met at Kichijoji Station, wearing their workout clothes along with windbreaker jackets, both for modesty and the cooler autumn air.  Rather than Atsuko’s apartment, they headed straight for Inokashira Park, where they warmed up their joints and set out on a mile-long jog around the park’s Y-shaped lake.
 
Atsuko was clearly the most physically fit out of the three girls, but did her best to accommodate the slower pace of Ann and especially Futaba, whose laboured wheezing sounded like a beached whale.  “I’ve… never… run… that… far… in… my… life…”, she panted.
 
“Technically… you didn’t… run… all the way,” argued Ann, who was also trying to catch her breath.  “I saw you… walking… three times.”
 
“Speedwalking!”, Futaba shouted in rebuttal.
 
Atsuko intervened.  “Girls, please! That’s good enough for both of you.  It’s kind of my fault for not knowing your limits. I normally run for two laps or more when I’m out by myself, but I’ll give you two a break.  Let’s all take a breather and we’ll move on to my place, okay?”
 
Back in Atsuko’s apartment, the three girls all shed their coats, a thin glaze of sweat already having coated their newly-exposed stomachs.  Futaba, and even Ann, couldn’t help but sneak an awestruck gaze at their Atsuko’s chest, her grand, heaving bosoms stretching taught the fabric of her golden-orange sports bra.  As their icy stares tensed up the atmosphere of the situation, she meekly asked, “...Is there something wrong?”
 
Adjusting her glasses without breaking eye contact from her target, Futaba flatly said, “When I grow up, I want boobs like those.”
 
“Futaba!” Ann scolded indignantly.
 
But Atsuko seemed to take it in stride.  “Well, better you two staring than the guys!” she joked.  “How about I make us some tea?” The others nodded, eager to move on from this bout of awkwardness.  Once the tea was fully brewed, she delivered it to Ann and Futaba, both sitting comfortably around the

kotatsu

.  Sitting down to join them, Atsuko poured some for each of her friends and asked, “So, have you two thought about whom you’d like to invite to the recital?”
 
“Well,” Futaba started, “I did ask Sojiro -- my dad, kind of, it’s complicated -- after all, he was the first person who found out about my secret hobby.  But, he said he was busy that evening, taking care of Leblanc. That’s the cafe he runs.”
 
“Oh yeah, I’ve been there with you.”  Atsuko had, indeed, been there with the other girls, back when they had set up their mission in Mementos.
 
“Right.  So between Ann and I, we’ve got four slots, but five friends to give them to.”  The five friends she was referring to were, of course, the other (human) Phantom Thieves: Ren, Ryuji, Yusuke, Makoto, and Haru.  “They were also enthusiastic when we showed them what we’ve been doing, so we couldn’t decide which of them we should drop…”
 
“To be perfectly honest, Futaba,” interrupted Atsuko, “I wasn’t planning on inviting anybody myself.  I’m an only child, and I live quite a while away from my parents, in Inaba. Even if they did live with me, I’d be worried about what they think of me doing what I do, after all I’ve been through.  They were kind of critical about me trying out bellydance when I was younger.”
 
“But isn’t that what you pursued after you left ballet practise?” asked Ann.
 
“Actually, I tried out many different styles of dance at that time of my life.  I only threw myself fully into

baladi

after I moved out to Tokyo.  At any rate, I’d be happy to give my tickets or whatever to you.  I’m sure Maiko wouldn’t mind.”
 
“You’d really do that for us?”
 
“After all you’ve done for me?  Of course I’d help you out!”
 
“Wow, thank you, Atsuko!”
 
Futaba recounted their available tickets.  “So now we’ve got six slots to share. That’s enough for all our friends, but we’ve still got one more.  If Sojiro can’t make it, then who…”
 
“I have an idea, Futaba,” suggested Ann.  “Shiho Suzui.”
 
“Who’s that?” Futaba asked innocently.
 
“My old friend.  The one who…” She stalled, then dropped her voice.  “The one who got involved with Kamoshida.” To Atsuko, she spoke up.  “Shiho was -- I guess, still is -- my best friend from school. A while ago, she…”  Ann chose her words carefully. “...she had a bad accident. She came out of a coma recently and has been recovering in the hospital.  Her parents are transferring her away to a different school next month, but she might have time to visit my recital before then.”
 
“Aww, how sweet!  Are you… in love with her, by chance?”
 
“Eh?” gasped Ann.  “Well… when you put it that way…”  She swallowed and steeled her nerves.  “Yes. It’s complicated, but yes. She was my source of inspiration when I started dancing myself.  I... don’t want to go any further than that, but...”
 
“That’s okay, I understand.”  Ann had a feeling that Atsuko wasn’t understanding the same thing she was really talking about, namely Shiho’s circumstances, but thought better of pressing the issue any further.  “How about we continue our training?” The girls nodded as they sipped the last of their tea. As Atsuko pushed the kotatsu out of the way, she asked, “So, is there anything in particular you’d like to focus on today?”
 
Futaba answered first.  “I was wondering, Atsuko-sensei” -- Atsuko blushed with appreciation at the honourific -- “how did you get so flexible?”
 
“You like my stretches, don’t you?”  She could remember the awestruck looks her friends gave her every time she performed a straddle split or such during her warm-ups.  “Well, that kind of flexibility comes from lots and lots of dance training, but I can lead you in some exercises to give you a start.  Is there anything you’d like to work on, specifically?”
 
“Well, at the end of my routine, I bend my back a little.  I can’t go too far back without falling over.”
 
“Well, for that we’d have to work more on your balance, but as for the flexibility aspect, I know what we can do for that.”  Atsuko retreated to the hall closet, and returned carrying three thin, rolled-up mats.
 
“Are those yoga mats?” asked Ann.
 
“Precisely.”  As Atsuko unrolled the mats, two on on side of the living room and the other facing them from the other side, she narrated, “I’m going to teach you a basic yoga routine called a ‘Sun Salutation’.  It’s a good all-around sequence that we frequently use to start or end a session. I’ll try not to go too fast for you; just hold each pose as deeply as you feel comfortable with.”
 
Following Atsuko’s lead, the girls reached up to the sky, then down at their feet, then leant forward and lowered their bodies to the ground, and lifted their upper chests in a light backbend.  To Futaba, this last part was not only the stretch she felt would be most helpful, but it felt good to boot. Slowly, they all went through each step in reverse, then repeated the sequence a few more times.  Ann and especially Futaba were a fair bit shakier than their instructor, but they all pulled off each move roughly in unison.
 
Having limbered themselves up, Atsuko rolled the yoga mats back up and went to return them to the closet, when Futaba eagerly asked, “Is my costume ready?”
 
“Oh, yes, it is.  Would you like it now?”  Futaba nodded vigorously, a wide grin plastered on her face.  “Come with me and I’ll help you change.” Atsuko returned the mats back to her closet, picked out the Battle Bedlah, and followed Futaba into the bathroom with the costume in hand.
 
A scant couple of minutes later, Futaba emerged and stepped in view of Ann.  The bandeau top now fit her dainty chest like a glove. A silken, darker-toned border now lined the bra, dotted by rhinestones on the top edge and bunches of tassels on the bottom.  The roomy

sirwal

pants were now lined with an extra layer of chiffon, allowing only the faintest shadow of Futaba’s legs to be seen, and a row of coins was added below the belt sash.  Atsuko had added some accessories to help match up with the character she was modelling after: a set of golden wrist bangles, another golden bangle to hold her hair up in a ponytail, and black choker with a green plastic “jewel”.  She had even affixed a small green veil to the underside of Futaba’s glasses. The material may not have been the most authentic or expensive, but they suited her needs just perfectly. She felt the part of a true dancer, ready to take centre stage.
 
“Aww, you look so beautiful, Futaba!” Ann cooed with awestruck appreciation.  “How do you feel about it?”
 
“Ret-2-rock!” she proclaimed, borrowing her genie heroine’s catch-phrase.  Ann giggled and flashed a thumbs-up gesture, in acknowledgement of the reference.
 
“Well?  Let’s see it in motion!” Ann said encouragingly.
 
“Alright.  I’ll keep it simple for now.”  Moving to a clear spot in the living room, she spread her arms out to the side and engaged in some gentle hip sways.  Before long, she turned them into sharper hip bumps, each shake eliciting a pleasant jingle from the coins attached to her belt.  The pieces of her new costume continued to hold fast as she transitioned into more vigorous shimmies. One thing she noticed was that the puffier legs of her pants made movement more of a challenge, that she could somehow trip over part of them, but her routine did not involve too much footwork, so she let that problem go for the time being.  “So far, so good. Now for the real test.”
 
Picking out her smartphone from Ann’s purse, Futaba performed her recital piece for them yet again.  Now that she had a real

bedlah

to wear, she felt like she was finally living out the fantasies she had concocted in her mind during her solo bellydance training.  Midway through the song, Ann and Atsuko began to clap with the beat, bolstering Futaba’s spirit even further.
 
“Oh, I’m glad you like it!  Just be sure to keep practising in that outfit so you get used to how it feels when you move.”
 
“Good idea.  What about you, Ann?  Do you have your own costume?”
 
Ann shook her head.  “No, I thought I’d just borrow one from Maiko-sensei.  It’s cheaper that way.”
 
“Can’t argue with that logic,” affirmed Atsuko.  From there, she coached her friends on specific trouble spots: Futaba with shimmies, and Ann with belly rolls.  In particular, Futaba expressed frustration with how she lost the rhythm of her knee movements after some time. She would eventually start moving both knees together, instead of one at a time, making her hip movements lose their potency.  “My best advice for that,” instructed Atsuko, “would be to try it slower, and focus on the motions at that pace. When you get that down, then you can try to pick up the pace again.”
 
“Yeah, but I don’t want them to be too slow.”
 
“If a few minor things like that don’t go exactly as you rehearsed them… it’s okay.  Sometimes you’ve just got to improvise.”
 
“Improvise…  I hadn’t even considered that,” Futaba mused as she returned to her shimmies.
 
As for Ann, Atsuko pointed out how she seemed to be doing her undulations in reverse; instead of rolling her hips forward, down, and back in a smooth circle, she was subconsciously doing this in reverse.  “I remember when I used to make that mistake myself,” Atsuko explained, “it’s pretty common. Mind you, reverse undulations are perfectly fine moves in and of themselves. But if that’s not what you’re trying to do, my advice would be to take it slow, and think about how you’re moving your pelvis.  You want it to make a circle that curves down, not up.”
 
“That’s okay”, cut in Futaba, “I used to make that mistake all the time when I was teaching myself.”
 
“Yeah, me too.  I thought I got over it, but I guess I got flustered trying to keep pace with my music.  Or, maybe it’s knowing that I have to get it right in time for our recital.”
 
“If it’s the stress that’s getting to you, there are lots of ways to deal with that,” offered Atsuko.
 
Futaba piped up again, “You’re not gonna tell us to imagine the audience in their underwear, are you?”
 
They all guffawed.  Once Atsuko had recovered, she asked, “Well, Futaba, what do you usually think about when you practise your dancing?”
 
“Me?”  Futaba was reluctant to share these kinds of personal thoughts, and was slow to answer.  “I… well, I guess I imagine… myself in other scenarios.”
 
“Like what?”
 
“Oh, um… sometimes I’m a pro dancer… a real beautiful one, in some cafe or club in the Middle East.  Or… sometimes I’m in a harem or whatever… dancing for… some pretty boy I like…”
 
“Forgive me, but may I ask whom?”
 
This imposition made Futaba blush profusely.  “Just… some character from somewhere.” This was a lie.  It used to be true, that the boy she pictured in her imagination was a random

bishonen

from the latest video game or anime that she was into at the time.  But, lately, that mental image had shifted into someone more real… her new best friend, Ren Amamiya.  Of course, there was no way she was going to tell anyone about her budding crush, least of all a mutual friend, so with tension rising in her voice, she blurted out, “Look, I’ve got my thing to focus on!  Can we please go back to the moves themselves?”
 
“Calm down, Futaba!” admonished Ann.  “It’s okay, I do that myself.”
 
“With Shiho?”
 
“Well… yeah.”
 
“Cool.  Nice to know I’m not completely weird.  Atsuko-sensei, got any other mental advice?”
 
“I guess… one thing you could tell yourself is not to stress out about what could go wrong.  As long as you’ve gotten your routine down in practise, just focus on doing that and it’ll all go right.”
 
“Thanks.  I’ve never done anything like this before, in front of other people and all, but you’re right.”
 
“Yeah,” added Ann, “and it’s just gonna be us Ph--” she caught herself almost saying ‘Phantom Thieves’ -- “us friends watching, mostly, and we’re not gonna judge you.”
 
“I’m looking forward to meeting your friends, Ann.  I just know we’ll have a fun time next week.”
 
“You know what?  ...So do I!” declared Futaba.
 
“Me, too!” proclaimed Ann.  With this bout of enthusiasm, the girls all exchanged high-fives with each other, and resumed their training with renewed vigour.  They kept at it until the sun set and their wiggling bellies grew hungry for dinner. Atsuko offered to take them out for ramen at a restaurant nearby, but Ann insisted on paying it for herself, given all that she had done for them so far.  As the three friends dug into their meals, the prospect of next week’s recital hung in their minds, but they met those thoughts not with trepidation, but with excited anticipation.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sunday, 30 October 20XX, Evening

Yongen-jaya Civic Centre

The big day had finally arrived.  Futaba and Ann’s

baladi

recital was at hand.  Not that the rest of the week had been uneventful; in the last seven days, the Phantom Thieves had attended Shujin Academy’s school festival, taken in a new member, and started infiltration of their sixth Palace.  But the thought of performing for their friends kept Futaba and Ann going through it all. As the autumnal sun began its late-afternoon descent, they assembled at Leblanc. Ren and Futaba were the first to arrive, followed by Ryuji, Makoto, Haru, and Yusuke (who finally had the good sense to let his friends cover the train fare), and finally Ann and Shiho.  After exchanging a few pleasantries and good-luck wishes, they all set off.
 
The group walked together to the local civic centre, where they were directed to a conference room on the third floor.  As Maiko described, it was a Japanese-style room with soft

tatami

flooring.  Maiko was standing in view of the entrance, already dressed up in her red-and-white stage

bedlah

, bidding her guests to leave their shoes outside and come in.  The rest of the audience, the parents of Ayame, Yuki, and Honoka, were seated on  low-backed cushions arranged in the middle of the room. While the non-performing guests took their seats among them, Ann and Futaba were directed behind a pair of

byobu

, folding screens, which not only served as a backdrop for the stage area, but created a makeshift dressing room.
 
It was here that the girls changed into their stage costumes, either the ones they brought themselves or borrowed from Maiko, along with a mirror to help apply makeup with.  With great care to protect her modesty, Futaba changed into her customised Battle Bedlah, which she had retrieved from Atsuko earlier in the week. The bandeau top now fit her dainty chest like a glove.  A silken, darker-toned border now lined the bra, dotted by rhinestones on the top edge and bunches of tassels on the bottom. The roomy

sirwal

pants were now lined with an extra layer of chiffon, allowing only the faintest shadow of Futaba’s legs to be seen underneath, and a row of coins was added below the belt sash.  Atsuko had added some accessories to help match up with the character she was modelling after: a set of golden wrist bangles, another golden bangle to hold her hair up in a ponytail, and black choker with a green plastic “jewel”.  The material may not have been the most authentic or expensive, but they suited her needs just perfectly. She felt the part of a true dancer, ready to take centre stage.
 
Ann had changed into her own loaner costume, consisting a bra, belt, and half-slit skirt in red satin, decked with sparkling rhinestones and short, ropey tassels.  It was a simple outfit, but shiny and, with Ann’s figure, stunning. Futaba let her apply some green eyeshadow on her face, put her hair up into a ponytail, and stick a green veil onto the underside of her glasses.  Once the mirror was free, she took a glance at herself in it, and was awestruck at the young beauty staring back at her. “Aww,” she cooed, “I look cute as a button!”
 
“That’s the spirit, Futaba!”  Ann gave her a reassuring shoulder-hug.  “Ready to wow the crowd?”
 
“Yes,” nodded Futaba.  “I can do this.” She had prepared her mindset for this occasion.

Don’t think about what can go wrong

, she told herself.

Just do everything like you’ve been doing it, and it’ll all go right.

“I am ret-2-rock!” she proclaimed, borrowing her genie heroine’s catch-phrase.  Ann giggled and flashed a thumbs-up gesture, in acknowledgement of the reference.  And with a quick roll of her shoulders, she took her place behind Ann, in line with the other performers, and walked out to the stage.
 
The six students stood side by side in front of the audience as Maiko, off to the right, narrated into a microphone.  She introduced herself, described her backstory, and gave an abridged history of bellydance and its various forms. After explaining some rules for the audience -- they were allowed to applaud after each performance, but no photos or videos could be taken until the end -- she and all but one of the students moved to a row of seats behind the audience, ceding the stage to the first soloist, Ann.
 
As each performer would do going forward, Ann stood in front of her audience and prefaced her performance by telling a little about herself and why she got into bellydance.  After repeating her story of discovering this art through her modelling career, winning some laughs from the audience with her flirty mention of “sexy poise”, she added, “I… would also like to dedicate this dance to a friend of mine who is with us tonight… miss Shiho Suzui.  She’s recently been out of the hospital after a recent… affair, but we’ve always been there for each other. And tonight, I would like to prove my devotion.” Everyone else politely applauded in Shiho’s direction, as her conflicting emotions brought a blush to her cheeks. Once the clapping subsided, Ann took her place as a technician, a nondescript young woman in a black hoodie and white face mask, queued up a song on the room’s stereo system.
 
Ann’s musical selection was a melancholic string instrumental, led by a violin and flamenco-style guitar.  Her dance steps, which included a lot of twirls, hip and shoulder circles, and gentle arm movements, enhanced the song’s wistful elegance.  To close it all out, she did a wide hip circle, pausing to lean forwards and blow a kiss in Shiho’s direction. Shiho blushed at the attention, but snapped herself out of her mental stupor to clap with the rest of the audience.  Ann, meanwhile, took a bow and walked around to the back row of seats, where she put a hand on Futaba’s shoulder. Futaba stood up, then looked back and flashed an acknowledging thumbs-up to her friend.
 
Once she took centre stage, she introduced herself, a few shakes of nervousness creeping into her voice.  “Um, m… my name is Futaba Sakura. I started doing bellydance because of… a couple of things, really. But more than anything...”  She took a deep breath to steel herself. “I lost my mother a couple of years ago, and I needed something to focus on to stay sane, so I taught myself with videos online, then eventually I found out about Maiko-sensei’s class, and…”  Catching herself rambling, she stopped herself and concluded, “Anyway, I’d like to show you this routine I made myself. ...Please enjoy.” Giving a bow, she got into position and prepared herself mentally for the start of her song.
 
When the first string notes played, Futaba sprang to life.  Her routine was much the same as the one she had prepared herself over the past year of self-education, but with elements added and changed under Maiko’s professional guidance adding variety.  For example, she added alternating snake-arms to sideways swaying motions, held them in a forward-pointing “L” formation for side-on manoeuvres like hip drops, and clasped them above her head to frame it as she slid her neck side to side.  Another aspect which had improved with practise was her ability to isolate only the body parts she wished to move. She still wasn’t perfect in that regard, but it was a marked improvement over her earlier efforts. Recalling all the progress she had made in only the past couple months, she felt proud of herself.
 
Not everything went on as planned, however.  At one point, Futaba transitioned into a twirl, but began to stumble.  Fortunately, she was able to stay upright by spinning a couple more times, but the accident caused her to lose her place in the choreography.  She was supposed to follow up with some hip drops with her left leg, but she blanked out on which side she had to do them on. Instead, she improvised and went into the next move that came to mind, which happened to be her so-called “charm attack”: slow, seductive whole-body undulations with her arms raised above.  Caught in the moment, she faced in the direction of Ren while doing so, reaching one arm in his direction and making circular motions with her wrist. By the time the measure was over, she had recovered and returned to her next scheduled step, that being right-leg hip drops.
 
The adrenaline coursed through Futaba’s body as she approached the end of her show.  She entered her shimmy sequence, which she was now able to accomplish in one sustained string, and ended it with her backbend flourish.  This time around, she made sure to plant her feet firmly on the floor to balance herself, and was able to hold her position until the song faded out completely.  Snapping forward with a bow the moment before she was about to fall over, Futaba lifted her head to witness her audience clapping with aplomb. Standing in the glow of their cheers, a realisation suddenly dawned upon her.

All those fantasies I made up when I was dancing for myself… I’m finally living them in person!  I’m a real belly dancer now!

Taking in all this adoration from friends and strangers alike was an alien experience to the introverted, and at first she didn’t know how to react.  She simply stood there, grinning with confused glee, until their applause simmered down and Maiko indicated for her to sit back down. Sheepishly, she took her seat beside Ann, who rewarded her with a firm hug across her shoulders.  “Way to go, Futaba-chan!”
 
“Hehehee… thanks, Ann,” Futaba deliriously chuckled in reply.
 
Honoka also gave Futaba a congratulatory high-five before taking her place on stage, wearing a pink loaner costume.  In her introduction, she described how she discovered bellydance thanks to Risette, which made the technician perk up in attention.  The song was a modern Japanese pop hit, driven with a disco-style rhythm and the occasional Arabesque string break in between verses.  Her dance combined hip circles and undulations with arm and hand poses that were decidedly non-baladi, but no less expressive for it. What she lacked in experience and fluidity, she more than made up with bouncy energy, winning the crowd over all the same.  As everyone applauded, Makoto leaned over to Haru and told her, “I had no idea bellydance could draw inspiration from so many sources. She made it look so interesting… and fun!”
 
Next was Ayame, whose loaner costume was white.  Without wasting much time on her introduction, that being a college junior who had picked up bellydance as part of her training regimen for her track and field team, she launched herself into her performance, accompanied by an upbeat, drum-driven song.  Her choreography, consisting of extended hip-lift and shimmy sequences, was simple but stamina-intensive. Ryuji found himself nodding and tapping his foot along to the infectious rhythm of both the music and Ayame’s steps. Once she gave her final flourish, he applauded enthusiastically and confided to Yusuke, “Hey, that was pretty rockin’!  And she’s on a track team, too? I should ask her out!”
 
Yuki followed, clad in a royal-blue loaner costume, and introduced herself as a university student, citing Ayame as both a childhood friend and her inspiration to take up bellydance herself.  In contrast to her friend’s performance, Yuki’s musical selection was more mid-tempo, alternating between violins and an accordion on lead, and her movements were slower but smoother, favouring serpentine hip waves, twirls, and sweeping arm motions.  She threw herself whole-heartedly into her performance, refusing to let doubts about her body shape steal her focus and poison her mind. Her dedication was rewarded with another round of applause, with Yusuke adding, “Such an exquisite display of passion and grace!  If only I had my painting set with me…”
 
One more girl stood up to take Yuki’s place on stage… Atsuko.

Wait a minute

, wondered a bewildered Futaba,

I thought Atsuko wasn’t gonna do a solo…?

Atsuko was the only other student, besides Futaba, who brought her own costume.  However, it was obscured by an orange veil that she had wrapped around her body like a cloak.  “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Atsuko Saito. I’ve been into dance for much of my life; I started out with ballet, but my teacher recommended bellydance to me after I, well, ‘grew up’.  Once I got into it, I developed an appreciation for this art form that goes beyond what what a lot of other people see it for. You know… entertainment for men.” She did not elaborate further, but Futaba and Ann, those who had known about Atsuko’s recent struggles, understood all too well.  “Anyway, I would like to express for you all what bellydance means to me.”
 
As soon as her song burst into life with a vibrant string opening, she twirled and unfurled the veil behind her, revealing her self-made costume in all of its glory.  It consisted of a bra with a flame-shaped motif, and a skirt slit up to its coin-laden belt, all coloured in blazing orange hues. Her outward appearance teased lots of sensuality and passion, but the poise and confidence she performed with kept it all in check.  A minute into the routine, she dropped the veil altogether, demonstrating intricate hip bump and shimmy patterns that matched the rapid lute riffs of her song. As the track began to slow down in tempo, and her movements changed in kind, favouring dainty steps and twirls which showcased her previous ballet training.  Before long, it sped up again, and Atsuko combined all her previous elements into a growing crescendo, ending with a series of tiptoe walks back and forth across the stage, embellished with hip shimmies. After five minutes, the longest performance of the class, Atsuko gave one final twirl and held her arms open wide, in anticipation of the applause she expected to bask in.
 
And she was not disappointed.  Her audience delivered a standing ovation lasting nearly half a minute.  Atsuko played along, giving a couple of curtsies in return before finally ceding the floor.
 
With all her students’ solos over with, Maiko stepped back up to announce, “Thank you all, once again.  Girls, you all did wonderful out there. Before we continue, I would like to open up a brief question and answer session to our guests.  Are there any questions you would like to ask about bellydance? Don’t be shy, raise your hands… yes, you in the blue shirt.
 
The blue shirt belonged to Yusuke, who lowered his raised hand and asked, “I’ve always wondered, how could such an ostentatious form of dance thrive in Islamic societies, where women are expected to cover themselves?”
 
“Ah, you’re talking about the

hijab

, the headscarf?”  Yusuke nodded. “Some places in the Arab world, like Egypt, aren’t as strict about that dress code as other places.  Being a foreigner, I actually never wore a headscarf myself when I lived in Egypt. As for the role bellydance plays in Egyptian society, I think the people over there understand that it’s a performance that’s separate from the dancer’s everyday life, and it’s not hurting anyone… Basically, it’s a ‘live and let live’ mentality.”
 
For her next question to answer, Maiko picked one of the grown-ups, Honoka’s father.  “What kinds of places does a bellydancer perform at, as a career?”
 
“Most professional performances take place at restaurants and nightclubs.  Most of my own gigs were on dinner cruises along the Nile. Then, you have a few dancers who become big stars and get parts in movies and such.  Not that dissimilar to the idol scene here in Japan, when you get down to it. But the biggest honour for a bellydancer in Egypt is to perform at a wedding ceremony, believe it or not.  Although, it’s not a cheap honour!” she added, winning some laughs.
 
The next question came from Ren.  “Maiko-san, I was wondering… Are there any men who do bellydance?”
 
“Not so much in Egypt.  They consider it kind of… gay for men to perform

raqs sharqi

as a woman would, which is a bigger problem over there.  But aside from that, yes, there are actually plenty of male bellydancers around the world.  I’ve even trained a few myself! Why, are you interested?”
 
The crowd laughed once more, and Ren played along as he noncommittally replied, “I’m kinda busy these days, but I’ll think about it.”
 
While the audience was asking their questions, they hadn’t noticed that the technician girl had slipped away to the dressing area.  Maiko pausing after answering Ren’s question to peek behind the screens and quietly confer with somebody on the other side gave away that there was some kind of surprise in store.  When Maiko returned to face the audience, she asked for any more questions, but no one raised their hand in response. She waited one last moment and announced, “In that case, I would like to introduce a special guest for you all.  A famous young talent whom I have recently had the honour of working with as a choreographer. Ladies and gentlemen… Rise Kujikawa!”
 
The idol also known as Risette strode out next to Maiko, transformed completely from her anonymous technician guise.  She had changed into a resplendent

bedlah

bedecked with golden baubles and trimming.  The sleeves of her

sirwal

and top were coloured in a blue-to-purple gradient and decorated with a white star pattern, and the bushy brown twin-tails of her hair bobbed and bounced with her every step.  Her appearance on stage elicited thunderous applause from her audience, and a few excited squeals from Honoka in particular.
 
Rise took the microphone from Maiko and said, “Thank you, Maiko-san.  As you know, I’ve been in the idol scene for over five years now. But what inspired me to get into bellydance was a show put on by Maiko herself.  I hired her to teach me, and eventually choreograph one of my music videos. You may have seen it; it’s called ‘Rivers in the Desert’. If I may, I’d like to perform it for you all, but first, may I have some of our student dancers join me up here?”
 
“Futaba, Honoka,” prompted Maiko.  The two young ladies walked up to either side of Rise, Honoka trying her hardest to contain her trembling giddiness of standing mere inches away from her favourite idol.  However, both of them were mostly prepared for this. Over the past two weeks, they had indeed practised their group routine to Rise’s version of “Rivers in the Desert”, albeit with Maiko filling in as the lead in Rise’s place as the lead dancer.  The fact that they would be performing alongside Rise was a surprise, but in the grand scheme of things, it changed next to nothing.
 
There were only two moves Futaba and Honoka were to focus on, them being hip shimmies and chest circles, but it wasn’t as simple as that.  They had to combine these elements with different steps and arm poses. For example, sliding their hips side-to-side while simultaneously pulling off shimmies, or combining sideways chest circles with alternating “basic Egyptian” steps.  The coordination required to pull off these combinations was a daunting challenge at first, but with Maiko’s wise guidance training them to break down the different parts, they were able to pull them off without a hitch. And, as Futaba swiftly took to mind, at least she didn’t have to sing, which the more diligently-trained Rise was doing on top of their dancing, and in English, at that.
 
Once the younger girls had finished their part, coinciding with the end of the song’s first chorus they made a quick flourish pose and left the stage.  Rise used the pre-verse break to launch into a few flashier moves of her own, taking advantage of the vacated space on either side of her to include some footwork.  Just before the next verse kicked in, Ayame and Yuki took their places and began their part, showing off hip circles, shoulder shimmies, and occasionally both at once.  They were followed by Ann and Atsuko, who used fancy footwork to make their chest undulations and hip drops all the more stylish. They concluded with one final flourish, letting Rise control the stage through the outro.
 
When she stopped, the applause she received was rapturous, and continued even as the students returned to the stage, lining up on either side of Rise.  After Maiko signaled the crowd to quiet down, she announced, “Well done, all of you! Before we wrap up our show, I have one more thing to get out of the way.  Now, who here is familiar with the

kyu

and

dan

ranking system of martial arts?”  Makoto and some of the adults raised their hands in acknowledgement.  “Well, I have a similar system for my bellydance classes. We use different colours of hip scarves to indicate beginner “kyu” ranks, and black scarves for advanced “dan” ranks.  Just like judo belts, you see. And after watching your performances, girls, you’ve all earned your promotions.”
 
Each of the six students bowed respectfully as they received their new sashes, one at a time, from Maiko.  Futaba and Honoka each received a white sash, to replace their entry-level blue ones. Ann, Ayame, and Yuki were given a purple sash, and Atsuko was awarded a black sash.  “You have definitely earned this, Atsuko-san,” Maiko confided, “for going above and beyond with your skill and theatricality, and for being honest with yourself about what baladi means to you.”
 
“Well, eventually…” Atsuko demurely admitted.  “I mean, thank you very much, Maiko-sensei, I humbly accept this honour.”
 
After giving the cast one final round of applause, the guests were all invited to share in the food which had been laid out behind them, on tables lined along the back of the room.  The selections drew from both Japanese and Middle Eastern cuisine, with lots of rice, salads, and meat skewers. Ann found herself drawn to the

luqaimat

, doughnut-like puffs drizzled in date sauce.  Yusuke, never one to turn down a free meal when the opportunity presented itself, piled his plate up with a little of everything.  He was about to dig in when Ryuji approached him from behind. “Hey, Yusuke. I saw you makin’ eyes at that Yuki girl.”
 
“Oh!  I…” he turned his head aside, “I was simply imagining her modelling for me.  Not nude, you understand, not this time. But I couldn’t ask something so bold of her…”
 
“C’mon, buddy!  I’ve been wantin’ to ask her friend out myself.  Ya know, for a track training session and stuff. We can ask them together!”
 
“Well, I suppose there is strength in numbers…  Very well, I shall join you.”
 
The two boys headed over to meet Ayame and Yuki.  Ryuji was at a loss for words, but Yusuke pressed ahead with an introduction.  “Good evening, ladies. My name is Yusuke Kitagawa, and this is my friend, Ryuji.”
 
“Hi, Ayame,” Ryuji said, at a loss for words.  “I was just… You were…” He kept himself from describing her as “hot” or “sexy”.  “...really nice up there. So… you said you ran track?”
 
“Oh, thank you… Ryuji, was it?”  He nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, I’m training for the Tokyo Marathon next year.”
 
“For real?  Whoa, you are one hardcore chick.  I’m a track star -- well, former track star at my school, too.  You wanna have a training race or something…?”
 
“You think you can keep up with me?  Sure, you can tag along!”
 
At the same time, Yusuke was introducing himself to Yuki.  “I’m an artist, formerly under the… unfortunate tutelage of Ichiryusai Madarame.  I’ve since had one of my works showcased in the Ueno Museum for a brief exhibition.  Have you had the chance to--”
 
“‘Desire’, wasn’t it?  You painted that? Aw, that was my favourite piece!”
 
“Really?”  Yusuke remembered the stiff reception his painting had garnered by art critics at the time.  “I’m glad I was able to touch someone with my artwork. Many thanks, miss Yuki. Your dance has stirred up inspiration within me as well.  Would you be willing to model for a picture sometime?”
 
“I don’t know…”  Yuki hugged her belly, insecurities about her body resurfacing.  “You’re not gonna have me do anything, I don’t know… weird, are you?”
 
“Oh, nothing of the sort.  Merely a scene replicating your magnificent performance.”
 
“That’s it?  Alright, I can do that.  I have to give this costume back to Maiko-sensei when we’re done, though.  But I’ll think of something. I heard Atsuko’s a whiz with costumes.”
 
“My, how serendipitous.”  And he and Ryuji went on to firm up details of their respective dates.
 
Not everyone was having a happy time, however.  In the back corner of the room, Ann sat with her head buried in her knees, her back to all the festivities, occasionally releasing a quiet sob.  She remained undisturbed from her hunched-over state until a Shujin school blazer was draped over her shoulders. The person who laid it there was Shiho, who knelt alongside her friend and asked, “Ann, may I ask what’s wrong?  Is it your dance? I really enjoyed it.”
 
“Thanks, I know.  It’s just…” Ann sniffed.  “There’s something I wanted to tell you for a long time, but I’ve been afraid…”
 
“What is it?”
 
Ann stalled, but eventually got out, “Shiho-san… I love you.  Like…

real

love.”
 
“...!” gasped Shiho.  She didn’t know how to react to this declaration, but the more she thought about it, the less it came as a surprise.  She recalled growing closer and closer to Ann over the course of her rehabilitation. Eventually, she asked, “How long have you felt this way?”
 
“I don’t know…  You were my only friend when I joined Shujin, so I guess it kinda grew out of that, but I never really thought about it that way until after your… accident,” she euphemised.  “But… that’s kind of why I never told you. If we stayed together, I could never live with myself because… If I hadn’t said no to Kamoshida, you… wouldn’t…” Her sentence remained unfinished as she broke down in tears.
 
Shiho hugged her shoulders from behind, saying nothing until Ann’s sobs had begun to subside.  Once they did, she said softly, “Ann-chan… it’s okay. You don’t have to beat yourself up over this.  I’ve thought about what happened. Even if you had played along with Kamoshida, something else might have set him off anyway.  Either way, I respect your wishes. I understand it would be hard to live with a reminder of what happened, even if I weren’t moving away soon.  But I’m flattered that you feel that way about me, and in fact… I feel the same way about you.”
 
Ann sniffed back a lingering tear.  “You know… I started bellydance before all this, after I met you.  I only stopped training because I didn’t want Kamoshida to find out.”
 
“You did the right thing, Ann.  I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable about doing the things you love.  But I’m glad I was able to see it for myself. And you were… beautiful.” And with that, Shiho gingerly turned Ann’s head to face her and gently kissed her on the lips.  It was a shallow kiss, but it lasted a solid minute, both girls basking in the passion of the moment.
 
When they finally parted, as soon as Shiho opened her eyes, had to stifle a laugh.  “Ann-chan, your makeup…” The tears Ann had just shed had smeared her mascara down her cheeks.
 
“What?”  Ann pressed a finger to one of her cheeks, leaving a black smudge on her fingertip.  “Oh, sorry. I’ll just go and get that fixed.” She stood up and walked to the dressing area, trying not to draw attention to herself.
 
On her way, she passed Futaba and Ren, the latter congratulating her on her performance.  “You were amazing out there, Futaba-chan. I really liked the part where you waved at me.”
 
“What!?” Futaba stammered.  “Th… that was a mistake! I wasn’t supposed to do that, I just tripped and forgot my place!”
 
“Really?  It looked so natural, I couldn’t tell.  But, if I may ask, why were you waving at me?”
 
“I… I’m in like with you -- I mean, like you!  I love you!” Futaba raised her voice as she blurted this out, drawing brief attention from others around the room.
 
“Futaba-chan, keep it down!” hushed Ren.  “Wait a minute, you… really feel that way about me?”
 
“Well… yeah.  When I’m practising, I pretend I’m dancing for you.  ...Minus the whole ‘waving my belly at you’ part. B-but, don’t get the wrong idea!” she backpedaled, “I-I’m not ready to give you a private show for real or anything!  N-not yet, anyway...”
 
Ren hugged Futaba close and patted the crown of her head reassuringly.  “It’s alright, Futaba-chan. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with just to impress me.  We’ll just take this one step at a time. Like we’ve been doing, is that okay?”
 
“Okay, Ren,” murmured Futaba.  “Maybe someday later.”
 
“Attagirl, Futaba.”  And with that, Ren brushed the orange bangs off from the front of Futaba’s forehead and kissed it with a peck.  The sensory stimulation triggered by this show of affection was almost too much to bear for the girl. She responded simply by squeezing him as tightly as her delicate physique could muster.
 
Just then, Ann had re-emerged from the dressing area and caught sight of the newly-declared couple.  “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked innocently. Startled out of her wits, Futaba let go of Ren and faced her, eyes wide and hands hidden behind her back.
 
But before either could explain themselves, they were met by yet another friend, Atsuko.  “Oh, Ann, glad you’re here,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. “I have some wonderful news!  Rise’s going to let me try out for one of her backup dancers! And she said she’s really optimistic about my chances, after seeing me tonight!”
 
“Hey, that’s wonderful!  Best of luck to you, Atsuko-senpai!”
 
“Thank you, Ann.  And Maiko said she can get me some work if I don’t make the cut.  But I’ll still try my hardest!”
 
Futaba added, “Say, Atsuko, I have a question.  Didn’t you say you weren’t going to do a solo tonight?”
 
“I wanted to surprise you.  I wasn’t planning on doing one at first, since I was working at the… you-know-where.”
 
“Where did you find the time to practise, anyway, without letting us find out?  It’s only been a couple of weeks since the… you-know-what.”
 
“To tell you the truth, much of my routine was based off of the ones I gave at my last couple of recitals, but with new stuff added in, like that veil sequence.  As for time, I’ve had loads of time during the day when I’m not working on costumes, which is… pretty much all the time lately. After I explained it to Maiko-sense, she let me practise in her studio when it wasn’t in use.”

“That’s… weirdly convenient,” Futaba said flatly.  “But yeah, you were awesome up there! Like… triple-A-rank, perfect-combo awesome!  You’re gonna kill it at your audition, I just know it!”
 
Atsuko giggled.  “Why thank you, Futaba!  Did you have fun here as well?”
 
“You know what…?  I did! Hey, Ann, can we have an after-party at Leblanc?”
 
“Ooh, yeah!  Maybe we could even give a mini bellydance lesson.  You said you were interested, Ren…?”
 
“What?  Oh, uh…”  Ren shrugged and replied, “Sure, Ann!  If it’s okay with Sojiro, of course. And you too, Futaba-chan.”
 
Ann went around to ask the other Phantom Thieves and Shiho if they were interested in the idea, to which she received affirmative responses from all.  After one last photo session, where the trainee performers all struck poses one at a time and as a group with Maiko and Rise, they bid their farewells and departed back to Leblanc.  The gang took turns raving about their experiences to Sojiro. Even the typically reticent Futaba couldn’t stop herself from gushing, albeit still leaving out the bit where she made a move on Ren.  The party continued in the loft upstairs, where Ann and Futaba led an introductory demonstration of baladi moves. All of them, boy and girl alike, swiftly got carried away with the exercises and enjoyed themselves immensely until Sojiro finally chased them out for the night.  As Futaba returned home and tucked herself into bed for the night, she reflected upon all of the moments which had led up to this. All the challenges she had overcome, all the friends she had made, and all the skills she had learned...
 
Suffice it to say, it was a most magical evening, one which Futaba Sakura would treasure for a long time to come.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

???Her body nestled in the cocoon of sleep, Futaba Sakura’s mind drifted off once again to the palace built by her dreams.  It was the same palace she had attempted to raid weeks before as Alibaba, but the circumstances were vastly different.  She found herself not as a thief, but as a princess, clothed in resplendent white robes decorated with copious amounts of gold lining and emeralds.  She turned her head to the right and saw two men seated beside her.  The first was Sojiro; judging by the grandeur of his throne and dress, including an almost comically oversized turban, she assumed him to be the sultan of this realm.  And one place beyond him was the grand vizier who, much to her surprise, turned out to be Ren.  His darker robes made him look mysterious, but not quite sinister, for some reason.In front of the royal assembly knelt a prisoner, shackled and in shabby rags.  Given the state of his clothes and unshaven beard, he must have been on death row for years.  Of the two guards who had brought him in, one held a sword in front of his neck, and the other was unfurling a scroll.  Were Ren having the same dream at that moment, he would have recognised these guards as Caroline and Justine, the twin wardens who assisted Igor in the Velvet Room.  But to Futaba, who had not yet met them in person, they merely manifested as masked, shadowy creatures, albeit strangely short and with a feminine lilt to their distorted voices.The guard holding the scroll began to read aloud from it.  “Your highness…  The prisoner, Takashi Aramaki, has, in a previous court session, been found guilty of running a slave-trading operation.”  Within the context of this dream, Aramaki’s real-life crimes were presented as buying and selling off his dancer girls as slaves.  “This is a sentencing hearing; I shall defer to you and your counsel to pass final judgement upon the prisoner.”“Please let us execute this inmate, your highness!” the guard holding the sword proclaimed with bloodthirsty vigour.“Now hold on,” urged sultan Sojiro, “we have to let him state his case.  Prisoner, please tell us why we should not have you executed.”Aramaki clasped his hands together as he pleaded, “Your highness, you’ve already repossessed all the money I made offa those girls.  I want ya to split it up for them, give ‘em a fresh start.  Just please don’t kill me!  I won’t set foot into another slave market no more!”Vizier Ren leant towards the sultan and counseled, “Your highness, I like the idea of redistributing his money to all the women affected by him.  Given our current finances, we don’t need it for ourselves.  As for the prisoner’s fate…  if this man is already willing to set things right, I see no reason why he should be given the opportunity to put his new ways into action.  I recommend that he be rehabilitated into society.  After he has paid for his crimes by serving the necessary time in prison, of course.”Futaba wished to protest the advice of vizier Ren.  For all she knew, he had never personally known any of the girls trafficked under Aramaki, whereas she and her handmaiden Ann Takamaki had worked together with one of his own slaves, Atsuko Saito, to bring him to justice.  But, she held her tongue.  Partly because of her natural reticence to speak out, but also because the thought of rehabilitation had a certain appeal.  Surely, it would be a waste of life to deny all but the most egregiously irredeemable criminals of a second chance to set their lives straight.  She stalled, but eventually got out, “Well…  what you did was kinda unforgivable…”  Aramaki’s gaze fell despondently until princess Futaba continued, “... almost.  I’ve gotta agree with Ren -- I mean, the vizier.”“I guess we’re all in agreement then.  Very well…  Takashi Aramaki, I hereby sentence you to imprisonment until such time as you are deemed fit to re-enter society.  Take him away!”The guards tugged on Aramaki’s chains and he followed them out of the throne room without a word.  With them gone, vizier Ren announced, “That’s the end of the docket tonight, your highness.”“Thank you, vizier Ren.  Guess we’ll call it a night, then,” sultan Sojiro said as the three of them stood up in unison.  “See you in the morning.”“Good night, your highness,” responded Ren, as they began to depart for their chambers.  But as he started down the hallway, he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.  Princess Futaba had tagged along behind him.  “Ah!  Princess Futaba… what is it?”Futaba’s request came out hesitantly.  “Um, vizier Ren, I… would like to show you something.  Would you mind meeting me in my room in a few minutes?”“Sure, what is it?”“It’s a surprise!” the princess blurted suddenly.  “I… I’ll send someone to get you when I’m ready.”The vizier shrugged and smiled.  “Okay.  I’ll be waiting, then.”About fifteen minutes later, vizier Ren was gently disturbed from a brief rest by the presence of Ann the handmaiden in his bedroom’s doorway.  “Master Ren,” she said with a bow, “the princess requests your presence in her chamber.  Please follow me.”  He followed Ann around the balcony passage until they reached the princess’s bedroom on the other side of the courtyard.  When she parted the green velvet curtains behind the doorway and bade him to step in, what met his gaze stopped him dead in his tracks.Directly across the room from him was princess Futaba, laying on her side atop a wide bed topped with shimmering satin sheets and a copious number of pillows.  In this dream world, she was older, taller, and had a more pronounced hourglass figure compared to her physical self.  Her green dancer’s outfit, consisting of a bikini, coin belt, and silks trailing from her hips and wrists accentuated her idealised curves.  Instead of her glasses, a green veil was draped over the lower half of her face.  Most beguiling of all was the emerald lodged within her navel, which caught the candlelight of the room with a sparkle as she slowly stood up and walked towards him in a sly, seductive trot.“Y… your highness!”, vizier Ren stammered nervously.  “What’s the meaning of--”“Shh…”  The princess hushed him and gently put a finger to his lips.  “I would like to perform a dance for you, master Ren.  A very… special dance.”  She spun him around and gave him a slight push towards the bed.  He stepped backwards in its direction and sat on the edge.  “Make yourself comfortable,” she urged, “and watch me perform… just for you.”  With a sharp couple of claps, she summoned her three handmaidens off to the side with their instruments.  Makoto sat with her legs wrapped around a large hand-drum, Ann cradled a lute-like oud, and Haru held a woodwind instrument called a durum to her lips.The instant Haru blew the first airy, melancholic notes from her pipe, Futaba rose her arms up and began waving her hips from side to side, Ren’s gaze transfixed upon her bejeweled belly button as it swayed along in turn.  Before long, Makoto started tapping on her drum and Ann plucked the strings of her oud, adding texture to Haru’s droning durum melody.  Futaba responded to the musical complexity by spicing up her mayas with some twists, pushing her hips forward and backward along with the sideways motions, before transitioning into other moves and steps.  One touch she subconsciously incorporated from her real-life performance that evening was her so-called “charm attack” of camel undulations, here embellished by turning herself at different angles with each roll of her chest and hips.  Unlike her physical self’s performance, this addition was deliberate.  Futaba was coming to accept the idea the bellydance could be sexy, and without the filter of her superego keeping her in check, she unleashed this sensual power upon the nascent target of her affections.A blazing sensation of arousal spread throughout Ren’s body as he witnessed this display.  His jaw slackened open, his posture slouched forward, and his mental faculties dulled, but his focus followed the princess intently as her footwork took her left and right across the floor.  Her other body parts remained in the periphery of his consciousness -- her dainty hands, her slender legs, her perky, bouncing bust -- but it was her belly, and the navel jewel at the centre of it all, which captured the attention of his senses.  Indeed, this was the same hypnotic dance employed against her in her last visit to this dreamscape, but now Futaba was the one commanding its power.  She was even able to effortlessly pull off moves which would be unfeasible for her in real life, like the splits and the belly flutters which led to the climax of her performance.Futaba kept on fluttering her belly at a rapid pace as she stood back up, powering the motions with swift, shallow breaths.  The music began to crescendo, Haru trilling notes on her durum and Makoto banging out an intense, sustained drum roll.  Slowly, the princess began to sway her hips, even as her stomach continued to cave in and puff out with unbelievable speed.  She coordinated both motions with expert control, gradually increasing the tempo of her swaying hips, until eventually combining them into a vigorous hip shimmy.  Her seemingly weightless arms floated down and up again, Makoto’s drum roll grew ever louder, and Futaba’s hips quivered with violent intensity, until suddenly, she stopped with a sudden hip bump to the side.  The music of her servants cut off as well, leaving the only sounds in the room the heavy breathing of both the princess and the vizier.After standing still for a few moments, letting the afterglow of the moment settle in, Futaba broke her pose and slowly walked towards Ren once more.  Rather than kiss him straight away, she whispered to him in a dominant, seductive hush, “Tell me what you thought of my dance… and be honest.”Ren would have showered Futaba with glowing compliments in any condition, but his hypnotised state he let his words flow freely and honestly, without stopping to filter them.  “You were wonderful, my princess…”, he intoned flatly, “you were sexy.  I would do anything to please you, my master.”Satisfied with the absolute control she had gained against the vizier, a smirk spread across princess Futaba’s face.  She knelt over his legs and leant in closely, forcing him to fall back onto the bed.  “Well then… I command you to make love to me all night long…  And you may start by kissing my belly.”“Your wish is my command… master.”  With that, vizier Ren cradled the small of princess Futaba’s back as he encircled her navel with kiss upon kiss.  Each kiss was received with a giggle or a moan from the princess.  Ann the handmaiden, sensing where this was going, lowered the curtains surrounding the princess’s bed and ushered her fellow servants to leave the room with her.  She did all that she could to ensure that they would not be disturbed, for a pleasurable night lay ahead for Futaba Sakura, both in the real world and the fantasy of her cognitive creation.THE END