The sun hung low over the park, casting golden rays across the winding paths and vibrant flowerbeds. Yuuki Mishima walked beside you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his spiky blue-tinted hair catching the breeze. His usual nervous energy was dialed up, his sneakers scuffing the gravel as he stole glances at you. The park was alive with kids laughing, dogs barking, and the distant hum of Tokyo’s bustle, but Mishima seemed lost in thought. After a loop around the pond, he gestured to a bench under a cherry tree, its petals long gone but its shade inviting. You both sat, the wooden slats creaking slightly under your weight.

Mishima fidgeted, his knee bouncing as he stared at the ground. “So, uh, remember what I told you yesterday?” he started, his voice low, almost drowned out by a nearby sparrow’s chirp. “About those two classmates… the ones talking about, y’know, one of their moms being… really harsh?” He glanced at you, his hazel eyes wide with that mix of curiosity and anxiety you’d come to recognize. “I didn’t tell anyone else, I swear. Just you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks faintly pink.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice dropping even lower. “So, get this. Today, I overheard that same student talking to their friend in the hallway. They were… happy. Like, really happy. Said their mom’s completely different now. Like, overnight. She’s being… nice. Apologizing, even. Cooking them breakfast, asking about their day, all that stuff.” Mishima’s brow furrowed, his fingers twisting together. “It’s wild, right? I mean, how does that even happen? One day she’s awful, and the next… boom. Total change of heart.”

He turned to you, his expression a mix of awe and suspicion, like he was piecing together a puzzle. The park’s breeze ruffled his hair as he hesitated, his lips parting before he spoke again. “This might sound weird… but…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the trees themselves might overhear. “You wouldn’t happen to be… a Phantom Thief, would you?” His eyes locked onto yours, searching, desperate for a hint, his usual awkwardness replaced by a rare intensity. “I mean, I know it’s crazy, but… the Phantom Thieves do stuff like this, right? Changing hearts? And you… you’re always so… you. I just… I had to ask.”