Kawakami tries to contact Joker

(Joker’s civilian identity will be referred to as Ren Amamiya)

“Hello, you’ve reached Leblanc cafe. Unfortunately, we’re closed right now as the boss is unavailable.” An energetic woman’s voice sounded on the phone.

Kawakami had more than a few contacts with people who dealt with weird items like the boombox. She had tried to call Ren Amamiya’s phone because the Phantom Thieves had had the most experience with weird stuff like this. She had only reached Ren’s voicemail and didn’t bother to leave a message, trying the other phone number she had for him. She hadn’t even thought of leaving a message or sending a text as a nagging need to hear Ren’s voice drowned out more sensible thoughts.

“Hi, Futaba-chan. It’s Kawakami.” Kawakami replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Is Joker available?”

“Hey, Teach. He’s out of town for the moment.” Futaba’s tone turned serious, picking up on Kawakami’s use of Ren’s Phantom Thief handle. “What did you need?”

“I…” Kawakami fought with her ****. She needed to tell someone, but she didn’t want to get someone like Futaba involved and she had that nagging, if fading, need to see Ren. “Found a weird… machine.”

“Oooh, go on.”

“It’s a boombox.”

“Come again?”

“A… boombox.” Kawakami suddenly realized that Futaba might not recognize what that was because it had fallen out of popular use ages ago. Kawakami then beat back subsequent thoughts about her own age. “It’s a box… It plays music using cassette tapes or radio signals. This one is gold plated and… it makes you dance.”

“Makes you dance?” Futaba emphasized the word.

“Yeah… it’s like the sound envelops you and you have to move with it. Like there’s a part of you that’s only listening to the music.” Kawakami struggled for the right words.

“Really… Music has been known to influence people’s emotional state, but this sounds way beyond that. Being gold plated does make it sound like some of the stuff we would find back then… Okay! I’ve got some time, bring it over and I’ll have a look!”

“What, today?”

“No time like the present. From the way you talk, you’ve been exposed to it for a bit now, right? Best to check it over before it starts to really cause trouble.”

“Are you sure, Futaba-chan?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I know machines. This will be easy. Bring it by Leblanc and I’ll take a look.”

****

Leblanc was a café located in a side-street in Yongen-Jaya. Tricky to find if you didn’t know about it, but knowledge of it had spread enough that there were enough customers to support its operation.

Kawakami had put the boombox into a large bag when she left. She hadn’t wanted to call any attention to it and its golden appearance would definitely have marked it as an item of value, worth stealing and pawning. She sighed in relief, having spotted Futaba crouched by the café entrance; at this point, Kawakami didn’t have to worry about the safety of the boombox.

“Hey, teach.” Futaba waved as she stood up. “Is that the thing?”

Prior to the Phantom Thieves’ intervention, Futaba had been an **** introvert with heavy anxiety about people bordering on a mental breakdown. An oversimplification of her state of mind perhaps, but with the Phantom Thieves, she had settled her issues and grown into an amiable young woman. Futaba was now eighteen years old and adjusting her diet and getting her out of the house occasionally had encouraged her physical growth and she was now tall enough to look Kawakami in the eyes without having to look up. She’d kept a slender physique and still kept her long, straight hair dyed in an orange color. On this summer day, Futaba was wearing a black tank top, black sports bra underneath and baggy cargo pants and large glasses framed her face.

Kawakami felt a tinge of disappointment at Futaba’s clothing, without being able to say why. Futaba had been a student and graduated from Shujin Academy with Kawakami as her homeroom teacher, that was how they knew each other primarily, but Kawakami knew that she was connected to Ren Amamiya and deduced that she had been an active member of the Phantom Thieves.

Futaba ushered Kawakami inside, giving her attire a long appreciative look.

“Showing off today, teach?” Futaba smirked.

Kawakami was wearing clothes that were completely unlike her normal style or nature, but she wasn’t aware of it. To her current state of mind, wearing clothes that showed off her stomach, and waist, pants that clung to her legs, hips and butt to emphasize them felt perfectly normal. Kawakami could only return a quizzical gaze, not understanding what Futaba meant.

They went up to the attic of the café, where Ren once lived. Kawakami paused, looking around the room with nostalgia. It had been a long time since she’d been there. Her eyes wandered around and she noted the beams of the ceiling, remembering that Ren had once told her that though the place lacked proper facilities, he could use the place like an improvised gym.

It certainly looks sturdy enough. Kawakami thought. <We could easily install a pole here. I could really show off then. Maybe even teach Futaba-chan some moves.>

Kawakami shook her head slightly, trying to break out of the strangely syrupy thoughts and feelings building in her mind and placed the boombox on the table by the stairs. She removed the bag covering the box and Futaba gazed at it in awe.

“Oooooh! Much old school. Very analog!” Futaba cooed over it. She had become more sociable, but she still had many quirks of personality.

Futaba brought over a toolbox and picked out a screwdriver. Kawakami unintentionally flinched, feeling a strange sense of unease.

“What are you planning to do, Futaba-chan?”

“Going to crack this baby open and see what makes it tick.” Futaba examined the boombox all over, frowning. “Not that it looks like I can. Not one screw holding this thing together. Did they just encase it in gold or whatever this is? Was it poured together rather than put together? There aren’t any seams at all.”

Pouting, Futaba put the screwdriver away and brought out a laptop and a Bluetooth dongle.

“I’m going to try analyzing the sound. This little guy will transmit the music here, but it won’t be playing through the box’s speakers.”

“You’re just going to… jam it in there, huh?” Kawakami asked suggestively. She teased at her lips with a finger. The idea of inserting something into a hole felt very appealing. She felt a tingling pressure building within her, similar to what she felt when the boombox played, but nowhere near as fast or as intense.

Futaba didn’t notice Kawakami’s behavior, booting up the laptop and audio analyzer program. “It’s got a headphone port and it looks like this jack will fit.” Futaba plugged the dongle into the boombox’s aforementioned port.

Futaba glared at the boombox, her fingers dancing as she slowly moved them towards the play button. She quickly jabbed at the button and skittered back, like she was afraid she’d set off a bomb. No sound came from the boombox’s speakers, the sound analyzer on the laptop diligently displaying data.

“I hate to ask this, all things considered, but would you mind listening to the music with these?” Futaba reluctantly handed a pair of headphones to Kawakami.

Kawakami took the headphones, almost snatched them in building eagerness. She gingerly placed them over her ears as Futaba pointed to the button to turn on the sound. Kawakami’s body subtly tensed with eager anticipation as she clicked the button. It was a heavy techno beat but it didn’t really do anything for Kawakami. The sound didn’t flow into her head, it didn’t permeate her thoughts with a pleasant, warm fog and her body had no urge to move. It was just sound, simply noise that she didn’t even like that much. Kawakami shrugged and shook her head at Futaba, showing that it had no effect on her.

“I guess that rules out subliminal messages in the music. Unless it’s a sound the boombox itself makes.” Futaba pouted, changing some settings on the program. “How do you stop the music?”

“When a song reaches the end, there’s a few seconds before the next one starts where you can move normally.” Though she said that, there was a whining voice in Kawakami’s mind; <Ugh, but it’s always so unsatisfying when the party ends early. I want to go all the way.>

Futaba nodded and dug a little remote out of her toolbox. It had two buttons on it, one to sync it to a device and one to turn on or off the device it was synced to. Kawakami removed the headphones, putting them aside.

“Ok, if we can’t reach it, this should be able to turn it off.” Futaba nodded.

Futaba took a few breaths, as though she were about to dive into a pool, aimed the remote at the Bluetooth dongle attached to the boombox and clicked the power button. The music blared loudly from the box, the volume startling Futaba at first. Within seconds, she started swinging her hips to the beat. They were wild motions at first but she slowly settled into a sharper, more rhythmic sway. Futaba had her hands over her head as she moved and she closed her eyes to focus on everything that was going on.

She listened to the music, trying to pick up anything out of the ordinary. She wasn’t all that interested in music, computer code was more her thing. She could analyze and dissect code and from that figure out the person and their mind set as well as a thousand different ways to tear the code apart. Music was nice to listen to, but in the end, to Futaba, it was just ambience, background noise. With that thought, being unable to discern any weirdness about the music, she shoved her awareness of it into a corner of her brain and focused on other things. She focused on what her body was experiencing, the humming bass and synthetic drum beat complemented by her heartbeat; a heartbeat that was speeding up with excitement, not effort, Futaba noted. Her body was being strangely energized, like a consistent caffeine buzz or sugar rush with no end or sudden crash. She could feel the movement of each muscle, most of the activity was centred around her waist and below. Her experimental attempt to resist shaking her butt was met with a slightly more fierce jerk of her hips, as though her body was taunting her that she wasn’t in control. Letting her body wiggle as it pleased seemed to make it happy. Futaba’s cargo train of thoughts was derailed when fingers brushed against her stomach, tickling her. Futaba couldn’t help but laugh, opening her eyes and looking back. Kawakami was behind her, so close that Futaba could feel Kawakami’s breasts press into her back.

“T-Teach! Wha-what are you doing?”

“Come on, Futaba-chan. You can relax and have fun. You’re being way too serious.” Kawakami giggled in Futaba’s ear as she slowly lifted Futaba’s top.

Futaba made a mental note of how strangely young and playful Kawakami sounded, even as she tried to collect her myriad other mental notes from the train-wreck in her brain.

<I want to play! I want to play!> Futaba identified the little brain gremlin that had been trying to distract and sabotage her from the moment the music started.

It was Futaba and yet not. She could only think of it as a hyperactive gremlin the boombox had planted in her brain. No matter how much it swayed, shimmied and danced, Futaba was determined to not let it have the last booty bounce. Futaba rolled her hips back and forth, bumping and pushing Kawakami away with her butt and keeping time with the beat. Kawakami backed off with a pout of mock disappointment.

“Whoa-a-a-a, what am *I* doing?” Futaba squeaked as she started to bend over. Her legs slid apart, her stance widening and Futaba started to panic. “Ohnonononono, I’m not flexible enough for a Jack-O pose!”

Futaba grit her teeth and shut her eyes in anticipation of the pain of stretched muscles and tendons. Instead, she could feel tingles running along those very same overstretched muscles up her legs and into her pelvis. Her butt wriggled in the air and she was helpless to do anything but squirm as the pressure built up inside her. She wanted to cry foul, but felt any sound she tried to make would be an orgasmic moan, so she kept her mouth shut, her head starting to heat up.

Just as she was sure she would burst, the music stopped, the song ended. Futaba reacted immediately, aiming the remote at the box and pressing the power button. When no new song started, Futaba flopped face down on the floor.

“Futaba-chan?” Kawakami cleared her throat and her voice regained its usual timbre. “Are you all right?”

Futaba raised a hand, giving a thumbs up as a response. She wasn’t really all right, she would say, but she was too embarrassed to say she was excessively pent up at the moment. And she really didn’t want to relieve the pressure in front of Kawakami. Futaba rolled onto her back, exhaling quickly in exhaustion. After taking a few seconds to collect herself and her thoughts, she sat up, looking up at Kawakami.

“Hokay… so yeah… that was… a thing.” Futaba’s thoughts weren’t as collected as she’d hoped. “I’m going to need to look into this more and contact the gang about it.”

“You’re going to keep it?”

“Kinda have to. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

<Hell yes, it’s a problem! I want to party more! I need more booty quaking and shaking!> Kawakami struggled to ignore the bratty-sounding girl who had taken up residence in her mind. She was ****, but recognized that she couldn’t really do anything with the box besides let it play.

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, Futaba-chan?”

“No worries, the Phantom Thieves are on the case!”

Futaba saw Kawakami off, not consciously realizing that her gaze was glued to Kawakami’s swaying posterior.