Chapter Text
“The Fool is the beginning, yet also the end of the Arcana. The Major Arcana is often considered the Fool’s journey through life and as such, they are ever present and therefore limitless. A free spirit, bound by nothing but that which they allow to chain them.”
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter I: An Unjust Game
Akasaka Mitsuke, Japan
April 9th, 2037
“Good Morning Japan! Today we’re sitting down with a man you all know, that was last in our studio over twenty-one years ago. Representative Akira Kurusu!”
Cheers, cries, applause from an adoring audience that knew nothing about the man they cheered for.
All just noise as a dark haired man stepped forward onto the stage, an unknowingly false smile on his face as he waved towards the crowd, the beard on his jaw illuminating the lines on his cheeks, his bandana flowing freely as he stepped forward.
They all thought they knew him, but he now knew what it meant to wear a persona in public.
He hadn’t chosen this for the fame, never had, Akira had often avoided the press after his first year in Tokyo, but after way too much persisting he had made the worst decision of his life and joined the Diet.
Of course, Tora had said he was made for it, and Akira had claimed that it was a dream of his once upon a time, as he stood by the station and held a sign for his former mentor.
It started as Akira merely helping Tora with his reelection campaign, only to turn into him being the campaign manager when Tora ran for Prime Minister a few years later.
Eventually, Tora retired to Takayama, and rather than leave, Akira became an official member of the Representatives board, hoping that it’d allow him to make change to society without a gun and knife.
But Tora didn’t warn him about the desire of members to do nothing and get paid for it, forcing Akira to become hated by his colleagues for trying to get things done.
“Hello there, it’s great to be here.” Akira said with a pleasant tone as he tried not to think of the last time he had been here, when Akechi sat where he did, and gave a smile just as fake.
Oh how things had changed, now he was the one plastered on the news with the public believing he could do no wrong, with way too many people in the background wanting him dead.
“Thank you for joining us today Kurusu-sama, or do you mind if we call you Akira? You were a pupil of Toranosuke Yoshida before his retirement, correct? Have you ever thought of following in his footsteps?” The host asked of him as he sat, the only thing Akira could think of was that he missed Shinichi, and he wished that his interview could have been with him.
“Akira is perfectly fine, and I don’t understand your question. I have followed in his footsteps, you could say.” He said with a slight frown then, hoping the host wasn’t about to ask him what he thought they were, and if the wide smile on the co-host’s face was anything to guess by, he was about to be very upset.
“Oh, we didn’t mean in the Diet, Akira. We meant as Prime Minister. After all, the election is coming up, and I know many people would like to see you run.” She said with a wide smile and way too much teeth as he only bristled at her comment.
And these people were now dead to him, no hope of reconciling their differences, they were idiots.
To be fair, a part of him did think about it, knowing that if he managed to become Prime Minister he could start enacting real, true change, not merely push and prod like he had been doing for so long.
But the position, and the adoration of the public were both shallow victories, after all they almost elected Shido, there was no honor there for him.
However, despite that, he could almost hear Tora’s voice in his head, telling what he knew to be the truth, and something the man had in fact said before.
“If a good man doesn’t run, then only horrible ones will.”
Taking a harsh breath and fixing a new smile onto his face, Akira sat up a little bit straighter and decided on a course of action, a plan of execution as Hifumi used to say.
He had no other choice.
“Funny you mention that, as I was struggling to find a good time, but I guess there’s no better place.” Quirk up the smile a little, let the glasses slide down the nose to imply warmth and humanity, and let out a little laugh.
Sadly, it was too easy to play people, something that Akechi had taught him.
“I am here to announce that I will in fact be running for Prime Minister. This country has spent far too long in the shadows, and I promise I’ll bring the sun back to shine for you all.” They exploded in cheer and surprise, he could tell they were doing a close up here as the audience and hosts began to clap, cheers going out of Kurusu, Twenty Thirty-Seven.
Akira wished he could feel pride in it, in making such a huge decision and the fact that he would likely get elected, but all he could feel was like he’d stepped into a trap. As those shining eyes and beaming smiles stared at him, he even could have sworn he saw the flaming form of Arsène watching him, just for a second.
Yet, his true self evaded him as usual, and he was left alone in a crowd, the noise drowning out any attempts for further questions.
Despite winning the game, he had never felt more alone.
The Phantom Thieves were a thing of the past.
Of course, it isn’t like it once was, where people had forgotten they even existed, this was different.
After all, they had done their return tour in 2017, saved Japan and the world once again, they had been on top of the world as they took back the world’s desires and freed the masses from yet another false god.
But summer only lasts so long, and their reunion lasted much less than that.
Despite the fact they had prevailed and conquered yet another metaphysical world, when all was said and done, they lost their Personas and their masks once again.
Even though Akira begged and pleaded, saying that the Phantom Thieves didn’t need the Metaverse to continue, they all went their separate ways in the end, with only Akira remaining.
This time, he was the one to stay, and they were who had left.
He even saw some of them at times, spoke more frequently than that, but they hadn’t been together in so long that at times he wondered if the Metaverse was even still out there. Shadows would always exist, he knew that now, but were there other worlds out there?
The Metaverse and EMMA both allowed them to go to other worlds, to be the heroes that they had felt were needed, to change the sadness of reality and make a brighter future.
Akira longed for how things used to be, to the point that he had searched for years for another world, strange apps and urban legends fueling his drive.
He even went all the way out to this one small town after hearing rumors of a world inside the television, only to be disappointed that he would get no reprieve from reality.
After much too long wallowing in despair, and a couple of calls from his friends, he moved on and decided it was time to make something of himself.
If he couldn’t escape reality any longer, then he would make his own reality better, not as Maruki had, but as he knew was the right way.
And yet, his heart still ached for his friends, wondering if they missed everything as much as he did.
Wondered if they looked out onto the city skyline and sometimes saw castles and starships like he did, wondered if they signed their codenames on documents like he did.
He wondered if they missed him as much as he missed them.
He wondered where they went after they died.
Bonds Broken
I Chariot
Ryuji had been the first to leave, saying he wasn’t just going to sit around anymore. After that first year he started physical therapy for his leg, hoping that with time he’d be good as new.
Akira wished things had stayed as hopeful as that.
Towards the end of their roadtrip, they had made a bad call and run into the Reaper, a nightmare from their past. Filled with pride, they had recalled the many times they had beaten the shadow in the past, believing that it would be no challenge at all. Until Akira made one bad move, and Ryuji pushed him out of the way of a Megidolaon. The doctors said Ryuji got lucky, or at least they said as much after they claimed it was a bomb that went off. Ryuji got lucky, he made a remarkable recovery, they said, except for losing a leg. His good leg.
Ryuji’s dreams of taking over Shujin’s sports program were forever ruined, and not long after he broke contact with the rest of the Thieves for a painfully long time.
After not hearing from him for over a year, he showed up in Shibuya one night as Akira was walking home and took him out for Ramen, just like old times.
They both apologized that night, and both said that it wasn’t necessary.
The therapy had helped for his remaining leg, not exactly fixing the traumatized tissue there, but certainly improving it from how Kamoshida had left it.
The almost robotic prosthetic he wore had been a surprise of course, but he explained how Haru had found him in Kamurocho begging for a job.
He couldn’t afford a prosthetic of any quality with how little he had left from their Phantom Thievery, until Haru shut him up and dragged him to a Okumura research lab to get him fitted for the one he had now.
Akira almost cried when he said he was a real pirate now, peg leg and all.
That night, before he had to get back to Osaka and his own life, the two of them sat late into the night, best friends again if only for the night.
And if they talked about the past, of what Arsène and the good Captain would say to them if they saw them now, then no one else had to know.
Of how they both wished to go back, to reconnect with who they used to be.
When the morning came, Ryuji was gone, and a card for the Taisei Clinic in Osaka was left behind.
As he woke up surrounded by booze and completely alone, Akira swore he felt a bond break within him.
And he was alone.
II Lovers
Ann had left not long after Ryuji did, wanting to finish her studies in America, the next Akira had heard from her, she was on the cover of Vogue and on top of the world.
In his fifth year of trying to find a way back into the Metaverse, he traveled to California after hearing talk of a magical world at the bottom of a well, only to find nothing at all and to run into Ann outside the local hotel, the rain falling down on them as she waited for her ride.
She had thrown herself at him when they met eyes, a rare smile burning it’s way on his face as he held her, laughing aloud that they were reunited the same way they met, standing by the road in the rain.
She filled him in on absolutely everything, from how her modeling career took off, to how she was actually planning to retire prematurely from the fashion world to attend college for fashion design.
However, it wasn’t all sunshine and daisies for the most kind hearted of his friends.
Akira had seen a ring on her finger when they met again, and as he treated her to Crepes at a cafe she recommended, he asked her about it.
He knew that she had gotten into a relationship with Shiho some years ago, the two of them finally coming to terms with their feelings, and he couldn’t have been happier.
Then she told him that Shiho said no when she proposed. She never gave her a reason why, just that she couldn’t do it. They kept in touch, but their relationship fell apart after that, Ann believing that she wasn’t good enough despite Shiho claiming that wasn’t it.
Ann went to therapy for a year after that, having to rebuild herself and to learn to not blame herself for the loss of a relationship that she had held dear. To not cry that she seemingly wasn’t enough for the woman she loved.
After Ann got back, she told Shiho she couldn’t see her anymore, as it hurt too much.
They hadn’t talked to each other in years, and Ann’s heart hurt every time she thought about her, thought about everything they had lost.
Akira told her about what had happened in Ginza two years ago, and the two of them cried together, two broken souls grieving in the middle of a poetry night, the sweet words only piercing them deeper.
He told her the lesson he had hard learned, which is that no matter how much things hurt, it does get better.
When the tears stopped, she noticed how late it had gotten and said she had to get back to her hotel, her driver arriving in no time to whisk her away to ready herself for another busy day tomorrow.
Akira watched her go, her new number saved in his phone as Ann left his life once again, and he felt a pain in his chest, one awful and familiar.
Not long after Akira finished his business in America, chalking it up to false rumors and went back to Japan.
When he got to the airport, he found his eyes drawn to a television screen, almost by some ethereal force that told him he had to look.
If his heart hurt when he said goodbye to Ann, it broke now as he saw the headline on the news, the words burning their way into his memory forever.
“Model Ann Takamaki has died of an overdose.”
He called her parents that night, and he cried over the phone as he begged their forgiveness for failing their daughter, and he could almost feel their world fall apart over the phone.
When he found himself at the end of the bottle that night, he called out to Arsène, begging him to come, to save her.
He fell asleep chanting the same thing over and over, to no avail.
“Samarecarm…”
When the Pillager failed to appear, Akira knew there would be no magical solution to this, that he would have to tell their friends that Panth… Ann was dead, and it was his fault for letting her go.
And all the while, a single text from her rested on his phone.
You were wrong
III Magician
Morgana was arguably the closest of Akira’s friends, having lived together for so long, confessing their beliefs and fears to each other when they should have been sleeping, the two held a bond unlike any other.
When they all went their separate ways after that summer, it was Morgana that went with him, that never left his side.
Even when all of them left, when Akira was left to search for a reason to get the Thieves back together, Morgana stayed by his side.
It had taken time for Morgana to accept his lot in life, that despite how much he had wished and prayed, he would be stuck as a cat forever seemingly.
He accepted it in time, and Akira felt a strength from Morgana that inspired him in ways he would always cherish, his most loyal friend never letting reality bring him down despite being denied his greatest wish.
Morgana would never be a cat to Akira, he would always be his friend.
But in all the ways that matter, Morgana was a cat, and they learned that the hard way.
After Ann’s death, their group came back together for a time, to grieve together in a way only they knew how.
They spoke of her, and they reminisced with tears in their eyes as they bared their hearts to each other in a way they hadn’t in years.
That night, when all of them had drank their weight in liquor, they decided they wanted to go to her old house, to see if any of her things were still there.
They each wondered what they would do now, Morgana stressing that they had to move forward, that they couldn’t let the pain win no matter how much it hurt.
While crossing the road together, Akira almost blacked out and found himself face down in the middle of the street, just as the lights changed and a car came rampaging towards him.
His eyes reflected dully as he just watched the headlights come closer and closer, not even trying to move as he swore he saw a glint of scarlet in the light.
He would not die this day however.
Morgana threw himself at Akira, pushing him just enough to be out of the way, but getting launched into the night by the force of the car, the owner stumbling out of the car and rambling apologies to them and begging forgiveness.
Akira only just crawled across the road then, ignoring the pleas to not call the cops, the screams of his friends, the sounds of traffic as the street came to a stop around him.
All he could see was the broken and twisted body of Mona lying in the road, and he felt a hole grow in his chest.
He heard a voice on the wind as he held his friend in his arms, his hands stained a scarlet not too dissimilar to the gloves he once wore.
Words said once before came to him again, and he let his tears fall as he cradled his broken friend to his chest, the feel of the cooling fur shielding his eyes from the world.
“Even if you feel that only darkness lies ahead... As long as you hold hands together... See it through as one... ...the world will never end”
Even when surrounded by his friends, he knew they wouldn’t stay, not when they had lost another friend.
Another member of their family.
It was there as Akira lost the closest thing he had to a brother, that he felt a tear inside of his soul, a blue flame that burned in the distance… before going out.
And the last flicker of Arsène disappeared from within him.
IV Emperor
Yusuke vanished in the days after Morgana’s death, leaving only a single message to his former allies.
The world was not fair, and he did not see how they had won, if this was their reward.
Akira searched for him for years, looking through news articles and trying to see if he had returned to the art world, hoping that his friend would finally find the peace that he sought, and finally found him in a shrine in Nippori.
Fox had changed, and was near unrecognizable from the man they had known, cold and bitter, the two of them had talked there in the draining moonlight.
Akira had told him he was searching for a way back, a way back into the Metaverse or some offshoot of it, a way to regain everything that they had lost, to restore their broken family.
Yusuke told him that he had given up on art, as the world was too ugly to foster any inspiration, and that he had accepted that there was nothing he could do about it.
Akira begged Yusuke to give him a chance, to try and fix things.
Yusuke told him that you couldn’t fix what was broken, and he led them to the pond behind the shrine, the water shining in the dimming glow.
Their reflections flickered back at them as Yusuke’s face grew expressionless, his fingers loose in the breeze as his hair fell over his eyes.
“I spoke to Goemon. I assume Arsène has not graced you with the same decency.” Yusuke said briskly as they stood there, Akira’s back rigid from carrying a phantom weight that was no longer there, his hands clenched as he swore his reflection’s eyes turned crimson in the waters.
“I haven’t heard him speak since the Abyss.”
“I thought as much… Goemon said goodbye to me. He said that I no longer hold the spirit he forged in me… That I had broken my contract to him.” Yusuke said then as he finally turned to his friend, nothing but pain showing in his eyes as he shook in panic, Akira’s hand on his shoulder doing nothing to brace him.
“I have lost myself, Akira… And I don’t think I can ever get it back.”
Akira pleaded with him, that he had to find that passion, that he couldn’t just give up.
That they needed him, now more than ever.
He hugged his friend as hard as he could, said anything and everything to him that had ever gone unsaid between them, begged him to come with him.
Akira would have given anything to keep Yusuke by his side, to keep another friend from vanishing into the night.
It was as they parted though, that Yusuke’s eyes hardened and Akira no longer knew who he was staring at.
“I am leaving. Don’t try to find me again.”
And with that, Fo- Yusuke Kitagawa walked away, and that was the last time that Akira ever saw him.
No matter the fact that he did try to find him after that, even recruited the others to try and find even a hint of their friend.
They had lost another friend, no matter the circumstance.
Akira was alone.
V Priestess and Judgement
Makoto left not long after Yusuke, her intent to finish her college education and do as she had said long ago, become the Police Commissioner in Shibuya and make her father proud.
She did all of that, easily reaching the top of her class and becoming the youngest Police Commissioner in the history of Japan.
They kept in contact pretty often as they lived in the same neighborhood, their work often coinciding as they found themselves talking about recent events and politicians that had entered the social sphere.
When Akira left to discover another route into the Metaverse, Makoto used every contact she had to find leads, to point him in the right direction.
Each time he would come back with disappointment and another failure of a trip, she would have another waiting for him and another rumor to follow up on.
It was in his final year of searching that he came back to Shibuya, expecting to see Makoto waiting on him outside her home, only for his heart to seize up.
Sae stood before him, her eyes as sharp as ever though now filled with an emotion that he had never seen there.
Unimaginable pain coated in a sadness so profound that he knew that Makoto must have died, another friend lost, another sister he couldn’t protect.
She didn’t die though, Sae said with all of the optimism of a cancer patient, and it did nothing to lighten the blow.
Makoto had a heart attack, stress the doctors said. She was overworked, putting in most of her days in the station, and her nights scouring every inch of the world for the Metaverse.
Makoto was in a coma, with no idea of when she would wake up, the doctor’s only said that she didn’t seem to be in pain.
Akira sat there then, in the ugly little lawn chair he had convinced Makoto to buy since it added more color to her front porch, her sister by his side as he stared into the beginning of the morning’s light.
“It’s not your fault Akira. She didn’t even tell me how hard she was working, do not blame yourself for this. Not for a second.” Sae spoke to him with the same fury that her shadow once possessed, determination strong in her despite her grief as he just fell apart in the seat, his eyes tracking the rise of the sun as he felt cold in a way he never had before.
“I know Sae...”
Another chain inside his heart shattered, and he swore he could hear Johanna roaring down the street as the quiet of the morning began to fade.
Akira was alone.
“I know.”
VI Hermit and Hierophant
Futaba and Akira were as close as siblings, they could tell each other anything, and though they weren’t bound by blood, they were bound by their shared grief.
Sojiro retired a few years before Akira joined the Diet, an offer to take over Leblanc for him, leaving him an open door in case he ever wanted it.
Akira refused, citing that he would lose himself working there, that while it would be just the patch of paradise he needed to mend his heart, he would hide away in there.
Just as Sojiro had let the world pass him by, only caring for Leblanc and Futaba until his probation happened, Akira knew that Leblanc would become his place to hide away from the world if he took over the place.
So instead, he went in a different direction and gave it to Sadayo, who had enjoyed an early retirement from teaching due to having more than enough money to last her a lifetime thanks to him.
She had become bored and Akira had basically taught her everything she needed to know about Leblanc, she knew the kitchen almost as well as Sojiro did by now.
So with Sojiro’s blessing Leblanc passed into his former teacher’s hands, and he helped them move out of Yongen-Jaya, though they stayed close enough to visit.
Futaba and Sojiro ended up in a large home in Akihabara, and Futaba surprised him when she actually bought the Electronics store there.
However, she wasn’t even involved in running it, as she told him one night with a grin. She bought it only so she could have first dibs on any new Featherman merchandise, and so she could enforce cosplay uniforms on the employees.
Sojiro was taking it easy, though he often found him at the coffee shop in the super store, getting in arguments with the manager there and teaching valuable life lessons to the poor baristas.
But in time, even they drifted apart.
Sojiro got older and began to get sick, though nothing worrying, he couldn’t walk a block without breaking out into a coughing fit. Eventually Akira hired a friend of Tae’s to live with them, ensuring that his surrogate father was taken care of, even though the man bitched and complained every second the nurse fussed over him.
Futaba ended up surprisingly getting married to Yuuki Mishima, a match that Akira never saw coming, but something about her drew his old image manager in.
Akira did a speech at their wedding, recalling the first time they had met, and Futaba not only got his name wrong, but accused him of being an NPC.
Futaba, despite the wide smile and blushing cheeks, screamed that Yuuki was in fact an NPC, but that he was hers.
Last Akira heard, Futaba was actually pregnant with their child, a girl from what the tests said.
They already picked out a name too.
Wakaba Ann Sakura, as Futaba refused to take Yuuki’s surname.
Akira held his sister the night they told him, and felt a little less alone in the world.
Not only was he going to be an uncle, but he now had a brother as well.
Akira could hope again.
VII Empress
Haru entered his life suddenly, but he would never trade away the time they had together.
Akira had fallen for her so quickly that he was almost left frightened, how a random girl planting flowers outside their school had become this brave and courageous business woman before his very eyes.
She had handled her father’s death with a level of maturity and strength Akira would have never imagined possible, and had turned the company around so quickly that where once there were complaints and lawsuits for inhuman treatment, now was a shining beacon of hope.
Rather than continuing in the food industry, Okumura Foods became Okumura Enterprises, and the first step was helping people.
Haru built hospitals, she funded research into practically every disease and illness known to mankind, she built equipment to save lives and designed prosthetics to help people get theirs back.
She had even healed his heart in ways he never could have on his own, had stood by his side as they all drifted apart, let him cry on her shoulder as he failed time and again to find a way back into the Metaverse, to bring back everything and everyone they had lost.
To change the Heart of Fate itself and turn back the clock.
And she was by his side through thick and thin, until they traveled to Sumaru City, following a rumor that Akira was sure had to hold the answer.
According to the rumors, there was a realm known as the Other Side in Sumaru City, that somehow reality itself had reset, and that the Other Side was a realm that was formed from the remains of the last universe.
They found nothing there, just a high school with a strange history, and some utterly bizarre rumors about Adolf Hitler.
After that, they went to Ginza, Haru mentioning needing to check something.
She left him at their table, their coffees sitting beside him as he waited for her to return.
She texted him, asking him to check his phone.
As he did, he saw for a split second, a flicker of what looked like the Metanav, the burning eye flashing before vanishing.
Akira heard screams coming from the front of the restaurant, finding a group of people screaming and gathered in a group.
With effort he pushed his way through the people, desperation in his eyes and a blade in his heart as he fought to the front of the crowd, only to find a sight that froze him to the core.
Haru’s bag and phone left sitting on the curb, as if they were dropped, the people around him panicking.
“She just vanished.” “Was she a magician?” “What just happened?”
With a stiff form, Akira grabbed her phone from the ground, the screen cracked horribly, but he could make out the familiar sight of the Metanav, the destination entry screen present, the mechanical voice of the app repeating the same line over and over again. A sentence that once meant pride, that they had guessed the key words and could get to work.
Now it only killed him inside.
“Beginning navigation.”
He tried clicking the return button on the screen, only for the Metanav to vanish from her phone, leaving only her background photo of them remaining.
His obsession had cost him the only woman he had ever loved.
Haru was the first one he ruined the life of, Ann and Morgana would follow not too long after.
The worst part were the rings that sat in his bag, Morgana trying to make sense of what could have happened to her, the pregnancy test that still sat on their nightstand at home.
A cross on it that had given them joy, had given them a future.
They were going to name their son Ren Kunikazu.
The loss of Haru he barely survived, Ann deepened the wound, and Morgana was the last of his family he was willing to lose.
He abandoned his search after that, accepting that Joker was dead, that Arsène had abandoned him forever.
That the Phantom Thieves were done, that it was over.
Akira accepted that he would be alone if it meant he didn’t have to lose anyone else.
It was his penance.
VIII Faith
Akira didn’t expect to see Sumire again, let alone for her to arrive in the dead of night with her sister’s handbook in hand as she dragged him off to Inokashira Park, and she said they were going to train, like they used to.
They had lost touch years ago, after reality was restored and he had left Tokyo for the first time, she said she had to live for herself.
So she traveled the world, made her family and all of them proud, and when the road trip happened, he called her.
He left the door open, for her to join them, to return as Violet.
She said that she couldn’t, that she had moved on, and reminding him that she never really was a Phantom Thief.
It hurt, but they left her alone as they traveled, as they fought once again to save everyone.
Now she was back, and it felt strange to be here again, after all they had lost.
Neither of them said a word as they ran around the park, Akira’s body protesting after so many years separated from the Metaverse, his desire to keep himself together falling apart piece by piece.
It was finally as he collapsed in a sweaty heap on a bench, that Sumire sat beside him, the handbook open to the sight of Kasumi’s handwriting, a note she had written to herself evidently.
She took his hand then, tears in her eyes as she pulled him closer to her, her eyes locked on his.
“When… when you learned the truth about Kasumi, about what I did… You told me it wasn’t my fault Senpai. That I wasn’t to blame, because I didn’t want her to die.” Sumire said then as she forced him to look at her, and for a second he swore he saw Cendrillion sitting beside him, only for her to fade away into Sumire.
“Sumi…”
This was the first time in years she had called him Senpai.
“No, I won’t let you say that this is different. You didn’t want Haru to die, just like I didn’t want Kasumi to die. This wasn’t your fault Akira…” She begged of him, sobs breaking through as he turned to hold her, his own eyes failing him as he felt the dam of emotion he had held back since Haru’s death, finally being released.
And Akira cried like he had never before, Sumire joining him as they both mourned their loved ones, and despaired over their actions in losing them.
It would take time, but Akira would eventually accept what had happened.
But not here, not today.
Not when Sumire was holding back the pain.
And when she kissed him that night, he gave into the grief, shutting his eyes and tuning out the world as he lost himself in her arms, the sound of her heartbeat luring him to sleep.
The next day, neither of them felt better, and she drove him to his apartment before leaving to visit her father, neither of them needed to say that the night before was a mistake.
They both knew it was, and they never talked about it again.
Akira threw up for an hour that morning, until he couldn’t taste Sumire anymore, only stopping when the carpet was stained red with vomit and shame.
When he finally cleaned up, he stared at a picture of Haru until he hated himself even more, promising to her beautiful eyes that he would be better.
He bought a pink chain at the mall in Shibuya Station that afternoon, and put their engagement rings on it, hers glimmering in the light with an Amethyst, not a diamond.
Haru hated diamonds.
Akira wore their rings every day, and when a coworker called him girly for wearing a pink chain, he broke the man’s nose in a solid punch, watching as the blood ran down his face and splattered the tiled floor.
Sae defended him in court, got him off without a single consequence, but he would have taken the jail time without complaint.
Akira was empty inside, and he was sick of being alone.
IX Councillor
“Akira.” The young man remained silent, the bustle of the city passing them as he sat on the hood of the cab, the driver sitting beside him as he watched one of the few friends he had left crumbling before him.
“Akira. I know how you’re feeling, you have to understand that there’s nothing you can do. You have to move on, you taught me that.” Takuto Maruki said to him as he held a hand before them, the tips of his fingers reaching the edges of the sun as the light trickled through the cracks.
The former leader of the Phantom Thieves, bearer of Humanity’s Hope and once savior, and a man begotten by fate who once held the title of God, whose grief convinced him that he should remove suffering from the equation.
Who believed life was unfair, and which Akira now agreed with him.
The two of them made a pair.
“Can you do it…?” Akira asked quietly then, his eyes slowly turning to his friend’s as the older man fell confused, his hand falling as he turned to face him fully.
“Do what?”
“Is… is Azathoth still in there somewhere…? Could you… could you warp reality again?” Akira asked of him with desperate eyes, practically begging the man for any measure of hope, even at the cost of liberty.
“We won’t accept your reality.”
“Can… can you bring her back?” This was not the young man that proved him wrong, that saved him when Maruki was willing to let himself die, when he needed to move on.
This was not his friend, and Maruki was frightened.
“Akira… you know I can’t do that. It’s too late, for all of us.” Maruki said slowly then, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, for even though Akira was a man now, he would always be a boy in Maruki’s eyes, his little brother that he had never shown how much he cared about, who he had hurt in so many ways.
“But… it’s all still out there, the Metaverse has to be out there, somewhere… please… I need her.” Akira said with no breath left in his lungs as Maruki wrapped his arms around him, hoping that the resolve and peace he had found would be possible for Akira, for him to be able to heal as he had.
“You miss her, I know you do. I still miss Rumi, every single damn day I miss her. It feels like… hell, Akira, living everyday without her. But we don’t have a choice, you or I. We both paid a price, and it wasn’t fair, nor was it justified. But the bill came due little brother, and we both paid far too much.” Maruki said then as he cradled Akira in his arms, feeling the boy’s tears stain his coat as they sat there, and he hoped that if he held him long enough the scars on their hearts would finally heal.
He didn’t say a word, but Maruki looked then and saw a glimmering figure to their right, just out of Akira’s line of sight.
His Persona stood there in the daylight, not the one he had allowed to corrupt him, but the one he was meant to have.
The one he was meant to use to help the people of this world, not dominate them.
Asclepius, the Healer of Death stood there, his golden eyes shining as Maruki met his gaze, his friend shaking in his arms as the Persona tipped his head to them both.
And vanished as if he was never there, not a single sign remaining of his reawakened resolve, just two men with too much pain inside them sitting in the morning glow.
If Maruki had anything to say about it, he would take Akira’s pain away, as he could not abandon him again.
They might have been enemies of fate for a time, but they were family now, and he would not lose him too.
He would not let Akira be alone again.
X Apostle
Zenkichi had wanted to protect them, despite for how very short a time he was one of their family, he had fought tooth and nail with them every step of the way.
When it had come to an end, and their masks vanished once more, Zenkichi went back to his life, though he called all of them at least once a week, just to make sure that they were alright.
When Ann died, he drove for hours to come and see all of them, Akane joining them in mourning with him as they all sat together. He left before the end of the night, Akane wanting to stay though Zenkichi wouldn’t let her, saying that they didn’t know Ann the way the others did.
He gave Akira and the others space.
When they called him the next morning and told him that Morgana was dead, he moved the two of them to Shibuya and practically wouldn’t let Akira out of their sight, the two of them trying in vain to pull him from the depths of his sorrow.
When Akira would break down over a cat on the street or even just a garden, Akane would hold him and promise him it was going to be alright.
Two days after Morgana’s death, Zenkichi called Akira at night, just before he was off to bed.
“You should go to sleep Akira.” Zenkichi said to him before saying goodbye, the words resting in Akira’s chest as he laid down, his mind recalling another voice saying those words.
His greatest friend, who he had never appreciated enough.
The next night, Zenkichi called him again and said the same.
For eighteen years, Zenkichi would call Akira to tell him to go to sleep, and each time Akira would miss Morgana.
But it helped heal him, bit by bit. Now, Akira can even eat sushi again without crying over his lost friend, without wishing that Morgana had let him die.
And when Akira finally gave up hope that he would ever wear his mask again, ever see Arsène again, he went to Zenkichi’s house.
Wolf was waiting for him with a cup of coffee beside him, a familiar yellow scarf sitting next to it.
It was clear to see that Akane had sewn it from where it had torn, the familiar yellow a blessing on his weary soul.
With tentative fingers, Akira wrapped the scarf around his neck, right above his chain, and he swore he saw Zorro reflected in the surface of the coffee.
Zenkichi hugged him then, and Akira let himself be hugged, both by Wolf, and by Mona.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
XI Sun
Tora brought him back from the edge, gave him purpose again, a job. He kept an eye on him, accompanied him to and from the Diet Building, showed him around and taught him where to go and who to trust.
They worked together for some years, both of their pasts left behind as they blazed a path together through the Diet, helping pass laws and bring back a little bit of justice to this country.
Eventually Tora got the biggest surprise of his career, being endorsed for Prime Minister, which he only accepted if Akira was his right-hand man, with him every step of the way.
As he said, none of this would have been possible without him, so Akira found himself in all of the papers, his name on everyone’s lips.
He held a purpose again, but now he found himself living a facade.
The Phantom Thieves were forgotten, nothing more than a distant memory, and no one even remembered him from back then.
Mostly thanks to Futaba wiping his criminal record clean, erasing any evidence that he had ever even been suspicious to begin with, but still he knew the truth.
He could never tell the public the truth, about the Metaverse, the conspiracy, Yaldabaoth, any of it.
No one would ever believe him, and on the off chance that the Metaverse ever did return, he couldn’t chance it.
There were still members of the conspiracy out there, the ones that got away, and the last thing he needed was them learning his secrets, how to change a heart or to destroy one.
He could never tell the truth, and Tora agreed with him.
He was the keeper of their sins.
“Honesty is always the best policy my friend… but what you’ve done, while it has saved everyone, there are those that would follow Shido’s example. There will be a day that this world is threatened again, it is inevitable. But you can’t help it come any sooner.” Tora had said to him, when he opened up to him about what he had considered, talking about the Metaverse on live television.
Spilling every single thing. The Conspiracy, Shido, Akechi. Everything.
But Akira knew he couldn’t do that, that world and this one were meant to stay separated, and if he opened that door to the world, it would only invite chaos.
He had spent years searching for the Metaverse, and now that he knew a pretty concrete method of bringing it back, he knew it wasn’t the answer.
Even if the Metanav returned to his phone, if there were Palaces and Personas everywhere, they couldn’t go back.
Noir, Panther, Mona, Crow. They had lost too many, they could never go back to how things were, step back to yesterday and take a trip to Mementos. Ryuji complaining about Haru’s iPod album, and Morgana calling him an idiot who couldn’t appreciate fine music, Ann breaking up the fight as Makoto kept an eye on the road and Yusuke begged them to stop so he could sketch a particularly interesting part of the tunnels.
They could never go back.
The Phantom Thieves were dead and buried.
Akira Kurusu dug the grave.
XII Justice
“I know how you feel now. What you meant, when you said your life was a heavier mask than any you wore in the Metaverse.” Akira said softly then as he sat in the graveyard, the cool stone resting against his back as he lay atop the grave, not even needing to look at the inscription to know what it said, he had read it often enough.
Goro Akechi
1998-2016
A Man Forsaken, A Son Abandoned, An Innocent Twisted.
A Crow Stolen
“I miss you, to be honest. For a time I hated you, I hated that you hurt two of the most important people in my life. I hated that I couldn’t ask Kunikazu for permission to marry his daughter, I hated that he would never be there to learn he was going to be a grandfather. I hated that Wakaba didn’t get to go to her daughter’s wedding, to meet her son in law, to hold her granddaughter. I hated that Shido used you, I hated that he ruined your life and turned you into nothing but a puppet, and that you didn’t realize you could cut your strings. I hate that I wasn’t fast enough to save you, that I didn’t shoot that fucking cognition on sight. I hated that you never paid for your crimes, that you never got to meet the justice you wanted so badly. I hate… that you were right, that bonds are meant to be broken, that you lose everyone eventually so why even try? I hate… that I miss you Crow. I hate that you were so stubborn, so sure you were right… but you still saved us with no hesitation. I hate… that we had to play that fucking game. That you couldn’t just be a person, that you couldn’t live a life free of manipulation, that you were nothing but a pawn for a golden cup… I hate… that I never got to tell you that I forgive you.”
The air was cold, the night quiet as Akira sat there, pouring out all the words that he had never gotten to say, to a man that should have been his brother.
His Crow, a member of their family, one of them until the end.
The first one that they lost, and the one that started all of this.
Without Goro, Akira had no idea what his life would be like. Wakaba and Okumura would be alive, but there was no telling what his life would be like.
No mental shutdowns, no Conspiracy.
Just two fools, playing chess in a coffee shop.
Akechi always chose black, so maybe in that world he’d be white.
Maybe things would be different, or maybe another traitor would have arisen, maybe there never would have been a game to begin with.
Maybe it was pointless to wonder about it.
The game was over, and despite what Yaldabaoth said, Akira had lost.
“I hate that I still have your glove Goro. I hate that we never had that fight you wanted so badly… And I hate that this is goodbye. I have to go Crow, but I hope you’re taking care of her for me.” With that, Akira stood up then, dusting himself off as he walked from the grave, he must have looked a fool.
A pink chain around his neck, a bright yellow bandana hanging atop it, and a single black glove on.
“I’ll see you soon Crow.”
At least Haru wasn’t alone.
XIII Fool and Strength
It had been twenty-one years, and yet a key that should not exist now glowed in Akira’s palm, a metallic blue that sent a chill through his spine.
Lavenza had given him this key, the key to his cell in the Velvet Room, before it all disappeared… but she had given him the key there, it hadn’t followed him into the real world, only existing in his memory…
And yet now he held it, and it was real.
With his heart suffering a fever of panic and a drop of hope, he went to Central Street, to the alley where Untouchable Airsofts once rested before Kaoru inherited the shop and moved it all to Ueno.
There, where Caroline had once stood, and occasionally Justine when they wanted to go someplace and his wallet was ready for a pummeling, was a blue door.
It was different from before, less like glass and more metallic, like the door off of a factory or something similar.
However, that wasn’t what stopped him in his tracks, his heart faltering and ready to give out as he felt hope in his veins just as when he had summoned Satanael.
Lavenza stood beside the door, compendium in hand, looking older than she had twenty years ago, but that same comforting warmth in her eyes remained, and it was calling Akira home.
She smiled widely as she opened the door for him, the inviting otherworldly blue light shining forward as he almost felt like crying there and then, the sister he had saved from that monster had returned.
The door that he had prayed for and searched the world to see again, was waiting for him.
He had to be dreaming, this couldn’t be real.
“Hello again, my Trickster.”
With only a smile on his lips, he stepped into the Velvet Room.
No chains met his gaze when the world shifted, not a cell in sight as he stepped forward into the room.
It was a rooftop, Igor’s desk surrounded by a beautiful garden of blues as a golden sun shined down on them, the door that he knew would lead to Shujin resting beyond them, though he knew it would never open for him again.
And Igor was there, standing beside his desk as he took slow steps forward before hugging him, a gesture Akira never expected from Igor, but that felt like coming home.
He barely even noticed as Lavenza hugged his legs, the three of them reunited in the Velvet Room.
After a moment, Igor pulled back as he smiled softly at him, and Akira couldn’t help but smile as he knew his mask had returned, the familiar weight on his nose a comfort though it didn’t quite fit him anymore.
He felt a tear fall through it, but his smile never faded.
Igor took his seat, his smile comforting and familiar as Akira took the seat across from him, Lavenza passing him as she stood beside her master.
“Welcome back to the Velvet Room, we have much to discuss Trickster.”
“You’re saying something’s changed?”
“Yes. Something at the beginning of time has been altered, and it is changing reality itself.”
“You mean like how Maruki did? Someone’s altering reality?”
“Not in this case, instead something or someone has altered the course of human history, as we speak my mind is cataloging memories from a life I have never experienced Trickster.”
“But, what could do something like that?”
“I shudder at the thought, but nothing you or I have ever seen before.”
I woke up in a daze, the memories not assimilating as they should as I noticed I stood in a blue realm of some sort, not too dissimilar to Death’s domain.
And a man stood before me, or at least an entity that looked like one, and from a quick look down, his appearance matched my current one.
An odd life so far, but I’ve lived odder.
“It is quite time we met, Avatar. I’ve heard much about you.” The being said as it stepped closer to me, the world around him growing brighter as I heard a strange energy flow through me, a power not my own but very much this man’s.
“Who are you? This isn’t how it goes.” I said in turn as I stared straight then only to see what appeared to be a giant screen appear behind the man, images of people flashing across it in quick succession.
A young man with an earring and a cold glare, a man with long brown hair with flashes of another, twins that held guns to their heads with confidant faces, a young and confused man with silver hair, his arm seemingly stuck in an aged television screen.
And finally a man wearing a white mask, a gun in hand as a monstrous godlike being towered above him.
“What… what was that?”
“The game, one which is hard fought and for which the prize shall be agony.” The being answered swiftly as he stepped forward, his mask glimmering like starlight as he stood before me, an odd playing card of sorts flicking between his fingers as he strode.
“Who are you?” I asked him once again as the card came to a slow, the image of a jester staring at a bonfire emblazoned on it, the image of a specter watching over the jester’s shoulder.
“I am Philemon, as so will you be.” With that, the man tore his mask free to reveal my original face resting beneath, messy dark hair and scar just as they once were, but his eyes were a glowing gold.
“Welcome Avatar of Death, to your Velvet Room.”
Notes:
I'm currently dealing with depression, writing is helping a lot. I've debated how to start this story in 10 different ways, but my mood plummeting gave me a push.
I have wanted for a long time to make a MoN story based around Persona, and even longer to make one where Harry is not the main focus.
Thus, we have a New Game + story where a PTSD stricken Akira has to contend with the fact that someone is changing the game and things aren't exactly as he expects.
For this story, I am blending Royal and Strikers, and doing a bit of the earlier games for timeline reasons, backstory, and the Q games if I do them.
Also, I have never played Strikers, I just know some things about it, hope Wolf is in character.
Aside from Wolf and Akane being in the story, there won't really be heavy references to Strikers until I've played it.
Chapter 2: Calling Your Cards
Notes:
The final setup for the new Game, and a glimpse into the breaking of some of the bonds Akira has broken, and those of others.
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter II: Calling Your Cards
Despite the joy he felt just to be back in the Velvet Room, to see Igor and Lavenza once more, Akira felt a piercing feeling in his chest as he stared at Igor, something akin to anger sprouting within him.
“I searched… for years. I begged for help, to help me fix everything… where were you?” He asked of Igor, the Velvet Room’s proprietor only able to sigh as the sun overhead began to dull, Lavenza’s eyes taking on a sad light as she began to tend to the plants.
“Trickst… Akira, my imposter told you once before, that only those that are destined to be Guests may enter the Velvet Room, and only their own.” Igor explained then as slowly the rooftop garden began to fade back into the prison, only to quickly shift back to form, almost as if the prison was some unnatural alteration.
“When the game ended, and Yaldabaoth was finally defeated, his control over the Velvet Room was ended, and the form he had chosen for it was erased. You were never officially a Guest of this room, but by the time I was freed, you had earned your place here. However, as your room was no longer, you could not simply return, for you had no place to go. Everywhere you traveled: Mikage-cho, Sumaru, Tatsumi Port Island, Inaba, Crossgrove, the Velvet Room was always there, you merely couldn’t see it, as they did not belong to you.”
Akira felt gutted, that for so long he had thought himself a failure, but he had actually found the Velvet Room, time and again, only to be denied because it wasn’t HIS Velvet Room.
“Then why now? If my room is gone, and I’m not a Guest… why now Igor?” Akira asked in desperation then, as something must have happened if Igor had broken his own rule, if the Velvet Room had welcomed him once again.
“It is quite an interesting story. This form of the Velvet Room, just began to exist not too long ago. I knew it was for you, yet I did not craft it, nor were you planned to return… So why was a new room made for you Akira?” Igor proposed a question then, of why exactly they both found themselves here, while the Velvet Room had seemingly acted on it’s own to return a Guest to it’s domain.
“Then… what’s going on? What caused all of this?” Akira asked in turn then, looking around as he saw an almost shifting quality to the Velvet Room, plants growing and wilting in seconds, as if the room was in constant flux. Ever changing.
Lavenza threw her tools aside in frustration as her flowers vanished right before her eyes.
“Keep aware, this is only a theory of ours, but we believe that an alteration has occurred, long before your journey began.” Igor said carefully as Akira took a second to connect the thought, and that just brought him even more questions.
“You’re saying something’s changed?”
“Yes. Something at the beginning of time has been altered, and it is changing reality itself.” At that Igor held a hand aloft, and Akira could only watch in avid surprise as the gloves the Master wore turned a startling white, the dark suit he so often adorned changing to a matching shade, the dark tie morphing into a glistening gold.
“Is this… Do you mean like how Maruki did? Someone’s altering reality?” Akira asked him then as he felt his mask shatter to particles on the wind, just as it had long ago, but within him he felt the beginning of a new bond forming, a new mask lying just beneath his skin.
Igor merely marveled at the change he had undergone, his eyes shifting and losing their bloodshot nature, soft blue eyes remaining as the man seemed more entertained than confused.
“Not in this case, instead something or someone has altered the course of human history. As we speak, my mind is cataloging memories from a life I have never experienced Akira. People, worlds, and events are so very different from those that I have seen in our past. A world beset not by Shadow, but by a being from Twilight. It is truly remarkable.” Igor said as he stood then, his smile turning sad as his familiar and trusty desk faded away, the Velvet Room seeming to collapse around them as the plants wilted into ash, the sun above sinking down to the ground as a soft light washed over them and a blue moon hung overhead.
“Igor… What do I need to do?” Akira practically begged him then, confused and worried by the change so abruptly surrounding him, he only knew that he had to try and stop this change, to try and fix things as he had sought for so long.
“You begged and prayed for so long, to replay your Game, to begin again and embrace those lost in the epilogue… Would you still take that option, were I to return you to a time lost?”
And therein lies the ultimatum, whether Akira would go back, would do things better… at the cost of leaving everything behind. Ryuji, Sumire, Maruki, Zenkichi, Akane, Futaba, Yuuki, Wakaba.
He would be leaving all of them behind to pursue a second chance….
A part of him begged to refuse, he had a life here now that he couldn’t just drop. He was to run for Prime Minister, change this country once and for all, be there for his sister and niece, to be there for everyone he had left.
But as he was about to refuse, to say the words that would damn his last chance, he felt the weight on his chest. Their rings weighed him down more than his criminal record and his cursed fate ever had.
If he went back… it’d be 2016 again… They’d all be alive again. Haru, Morgana, Ann, Goro, everyone…
He could save them, do things differently, keep the Thieves from drifting apart.
“I would in a heartbeat Igor.”
“Splendid, but I shall warn you Trickster, the Game has new rules now, things won’t be as you remember them to be. This third party, they have changed things drastically.” Igor said as the void around them faded and the skyline of Shibuya hung behind them, buildings shifting and phasing into existence as the city itself rapidly changed and morphed.
“Could… Do I have time to say goodbye?” Akira asked then, knowing he couldn’t just leave things as they were, leave his family behind when he was the only thing linking them all together anymore.
“You would have twenty-four hours Akira, any longer and the timeline will settle, and whatever past has occurred will fully alter the present. If you remain in the real world, you will be changed with it, so you must return in time Trickster.” Igor said with a serious tone as he waved a hand to the side, a golden door appearing before them as Lavenza wiped her hands free of dirt, stepping forward to join him.
“Lavenza shall accompany you as you say your goodbyes, but do take heed, that while time itself has not solidified just yet, things have already changed within this world. Do not slow yourself Akira, for not much time is left.” Igor stressed to him a final time as the former Thief nodded, Lavenza taking his hand as she pulled the door open, the outside of the Shibuya alley waiting before them.
“I shall see you soon Trickster, I wish you luck in your farewells.”
And with that, Guest and Attendant set off into Japan on a final outing, to set in motion the tides of a new game.
A game where Akira would not let his family die a second time.
23 Hours Remaining…
Leblanc hadn’t changed at all really, maybe a few new dressings and seats in the front, but the café Akira once called home had stood opposed to time as he walked through, the old bell ringing just as loudly as it once had.
“Welcome back… Master.” Damn her for teasing him, even over twenty years later, Akira’s eyes were aflame as Sadayo stood with a hellish grin behind the counter, her customers completely ignoring her as the news re-aired his interview from the night before.
“Sadayo, must we always do this song and dance?” Akira asked with a weary smile as she returned it, a cup of coffee finding it’s way to him before he could even ask.
Blue Mountain with a hint of cream, just like he liked it.
“It’s the only way I can have fun in this quiet little hamlet… Now, what brings you back my way, Joker?” And there was the reason he had always liked Sadayo Kawakami, that even though she had never seen it, she knew how important the Metaverse had been to them all.
She was the only one that still called him Joker.
“I was looking for some old things of mine, held onto any of it?” He asked with hope in heart as he saw Lavenza wander off to bother the customers, and Sadayo only grinned at him in turn as she gestured up the oh so familiar stairs.
“I’ve left Sojiro’s shrine to you just as he left it, it’s still your room after all.” She said with a smile as he headed towards the stairs, only absently noticing that she had removed the yellow landline from the bar, probably didn’t want that reminder hanging around.
And… his room was practically identical to when he had left it in 2016, down to the tools scattered across the desk and the plant that for some reason still hadn’t died.
It was like stepping back in time, and in a way, it was.
But he didn’t have the time to play Forneus for the thousandth time, or see if Tanaka still sold weird crap at midnight.
With a pleased grin, he pulled free a padlocked suitcase from under the poor excuse for a bed, the combination instantly coming back to him as he popped it open.
Therein lay three objects of note. A toy dagger that looked more like a cutlass, a skull emblazoned on the hilt with a small inscription on the handle. “Paradise Lost R, a licensed Phoenix Rangers EX Replica”
A model pistol, the feel of it real, the metal glistening as he eyed the pained skull that rested on the barrel, no inscription tarnishing it but he knew the name of it as well as he knew his own.
The Tyrant, a pistol made to topple kings and erase gods.
With his tools of the trade reclaimed, all that remained was a plastic package, the familiar image of a Phantom Thief Calling Card shining in the light.
They were postcards technically, not ones actually made by Yusuke, he’d bought a pack before Okumura, and he had never gotten to use them… but they’d work for his purpose.
Searching his desk, he found an old beaten up pen of his with barely any ink, and began to write.
I Reversed Chariot
22 Hours Remaining…
When Ryuji Sakamoto got home from his shift at the clinic, he expected nothing major to happen, maybe a call from his mother or a movie on the TV that he could use to burn through the remaining hours of the day.
He had merely existed after losing the hope he fought so hard for, even for a time blaming Akira for it though he knew it was wrong, horrible of him to even consider.
If he hadn't helped him, hadn’t saved him, he would never have lost everything, Ryuji’s life would have held meaning still.
Now he only saw reminders of his own suffering, trying to help heal others in a way he never would.
His life had slowed to a stop, and all he could do was keep walking, for he would never run again.
He knew that Joker had not commanded him to save him, Ryuji had chosen to do that on his own, but a part of him still blamed Akira.
His mind was in tatters, but even he noticed that his apartment door was unlocked, and he hadn’t left it that way.
From what he could see, the furniture within was pristine and unharassed, which meant he wasn’t robbed or vandalized.
He wandered around the small apartment for ages, wondering what was missing, why someone would even break into his home… only for him to freeze as he saw something waiting for him that he never thought he’d ever see again.
A calling card on his table, just like the ones they used to send out, the flaming top hat almost calling out to him as he stepped forward, his fingers reluctant to grab it in case it vanished like the rest of the Metaverse.
When the paper held up to his touch, he flipped it to the side and found handwriting that he would know anywhere, and a message.
Despite his better judgement, he began to read.
“Sir Ryuji Sakamoto, the Guardian of the Weak. You have fought your entire life to protect others, but the Phantom Thieves failed in their final mission. I shall renew this game we all played, and seek a better outcome than the one that befell the former Thieves of Hearts.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you soon”
With panic in his heart, Ryuji pulled his phone free and tried to call the man he once called brother, only for his breath to falter when he got a simple voice line from his friend that should have told him to leave a message.
That wasn’t the message on the phone though, and it just left even more questions to be answered.
“We Failed the Game.”
A Bond Most Broken:
The Broken Chariot
2017, Osaka Jail
“Oracle, status report.” Joker called aloud as he ran through the streets of the futuristic city, Fox and Skull at his sides keeping pace as Noir followed from the back with her axe in hand.
“Shouldn’t be too far to the Keep, but stay on your toes, I’m picking up strange readings ahead of you guys.” Oracle answered in their coms as Joker slowed in front of what appeared to be an alleyway, the others pausing in question.
“I… I feel something. Something familiar…” Joker muttered aloud as he instinctively raised his gun to the head of the alley, the sounds of chains echoing over the wind. A chill flooded all of their veins as a memory flashed through their minds.
“Is that…?”
“Guys, get out of there, it’s the Reaper!” Oracle said in panic then as the four readied their weapons, though a nervous gaze fell over Fox.
“But wasn’t the Reaper only in Mementos? How could it be here?” Fox asked then as a concerned feeling fell over Joker, the urge to run growing stronger as a red glow began to form at the end of the alley, the tip of a long pistol appearing from beyond the turn of it.
“The Jails are technically made from the desires of the public, Mementos was the manifestation of humanity’s twisted desires… Perhaps there’s some overlap.” Oracle suggested as the Reaper drew closer, Joker throwing back the hammer on the Tyrant as it aimed back at him, Yoshitune flying into his mask as he felt the General beg for revenge against his greatest foe.
“We can do this right? Hell, we beat him like ten times in Maruki’s Mementos.” Skull reminded them which helped somewhat, but the Fight or Flight part of Joker’s mind remained troubled, not even the presence of Yoshitune helping to offset the cold.
“The Reaper is different, Joker. The readings are completely different from the one we used to fight.” Oracle informed them with worry as the Reaper finally came to a stop before them, both pistols aimed at Joker’s heart with an inhuman growl.
“Could we win Oracle?” Joker asked simply as a bead of sweat fell through his mask, the Tyrant’s weight heavy in his hand as Yoshitune’s anger grew more and more stifling, the usually stoic and composed General becoming a feral beast in his mind at the sight of the Reaper.
“It’s possible, but you have to be careful. No theatrics, no showing off. Finish him off so we can move on.” Oracle advised them as Noir stepped forward, her axe coming up to guard Joker’s chest as the pair stood together, Skull and Fox falling into formation at their sides.
“Noir, you’re first. One-Shot Kill, aim for a Critical.” Joker commanded as his love lowered her axe, Milady appearing in a flash as she aimed the tips of her fingers out at the Reaper, a blast of golden light launching straight at the Reaper, the usual red spark of a critical burning into life as it hit.
And it merely brushed the fire away, not a scratch on the Reaper as it just seemed to laugh at them with it’s remaining eye, and dropped one of it’s pistols… a long sword appearing in it’s place, a burning pipe emerged from the side of it as it’s edge cut at the ground.
“Fox, Hyakka Ryouran on all of us.”
“Goemon!” Fox called out as the legendary Outlaw sprung forward, his blades blowing forth a protective wind that fell on their team, all of them feeling a burst of strength as Joker kept his eyes on the Reaper.
“Skull, Matarukaja on all of us.”
“Captain Kidd!” And with that, their power grew even further as the Reaper seemed to grow impatient, the barrel of it’s remaining pistol beginning to glow a bright red as smoke began to bellow out of it. The good Captain merely ignored the Reaper, the pirate giving out a war cry as they each felt their strength bolstering.
“Yoshitune, Charge.” With a clenched fist, Joker felt as Yoshitune’s power started to build, the feeling growing under his teeth as his bones began to burn, his eyes turning a bright scarlet as the General’s strength echoed through his body.
The Reaper followed his example, the beast taking it’s turn to advance it’s own strength, the blade and pistol both glowing with a hellish light as the ground around them began to rumble, the sky turning a harsh red around them as the Jail seemed to erupt around the Reaper's presence.
“Noir, hit it with a Psycho Force.”
“Milady!”
And yet, an attack that would have pulverized a common shadow, or done a decent dent on the original Reaper, left no sign of damage on this new Reaper.
“Joker, something’s not right, you need to-” Oracle interjected as their comms fell into static, the Reaper’s eyes glowing a golden shade as they found themselves cut off from the rest of the Thieves, having to throw their earpieces aside just to hear again.
“Akira, we can’t do this…” Haru said with a concerned gaze as she stepped back an inch, her eyes purely on him as the Reaper’s form began to ripple, the cloak it wore began to tear as the chains began to raddle like never before, a droning, piercing noise all around them.
“Everyone, fa-” And just as he was about to call for a retreat, Joker was caught off guard as the Reaper lifted it’s pistol to face him fully, a bright burning light emerging from it in a single shot, the heat mirroring the sun as it flew closer and closer to Joker.
The heat scalding and otherworldly, the tips of his coat catching ablaze as he merely closed his eyes.
A Megidolaon, something he hadn’t seen in years, but a favorite of the Reaper.
“Akira!”
Before he could even react, Akira found himself knocked out of the way of the blast, his mask vanishing as he saw Ryuji lying beside him, having saved him from the assault.
Ryuji was screaming, though his health only took about seventy points of damage… so why was-
The bright red blood caught him off guard, never in the Metaverse had they ever bled outside of an awakening, their wounds always cauterized instantly… and Ryuji was now missing a leg, the bare bone glowing like a diamond through the raw flesh.
“Ryuji!” Akira screamed out then as his friend fell stiff at his side, his pulse weak but there as he felt the Reaper’s shadow fall over them, his first friend’s blood staining his gloves as he raised his gaze to meet the Reaper’s sole eye.
“Your fate is sealed.”
The Reaper spoke, and something broke within Akira, his mask returning as a red light overcame his eyes, the white of his mask melting away until only an obsidian black mask remained.
“I will… ravage you… SATANAEL!”
The Fallen One had returned.
II Remnants of the Hanged Man
19 Hours Remaining…
“So, what’ll make me look scary?” A young man asked aloud as Kaoru Iwai tried not to roll his eyes at a potential customer, as ever since he had moved the shop to Ueno, his customers were nothing like his father had gotten on Central Street.
Less Yakuza and thugs, more hobbyists and children who thought intimidation could solve a bullying problem.
“Depends on the budget. Most of what we have here could work, though if you’re going for realism we have a few cast metal replicas in the display cases. Though I must remind you that no product of mine is meant to be used for violence.” Kaoru said the line he had said more times than he could count as the boy just pulled out a much too full wallet, and Kaoru realized why his father could afford to double as a pawn shop, as fools were willing to spend far too much on replica weapons.
“I like… that one?” The kid said, completely unsure of himself as he pointed out The Viking, one of the most expensive models he carried, and Kaoru just yawned as he checked the clock.
Almost closing time.
Just as he was about to unlock the case for the kid, Kaoru heard the phone begin ringing in the back. He excused himself to the kid as he picked it up, the number obvious to him as a tired grin formed.
“Hey dad.”
“Kaoru, you need to close up shop and come see me. We got a letter.” Munehisa Iwai said with an odd sense of urgency as Kaoru glanced back at the kid in his shop, his gaze curious as his father and he didn’t exactly have too many friends in the letter sending hobby.
“From who?”
“Who else? Akira Kurusu.”
Kaoru told the kid to come back tomorrow.
“Let me see it.”
“Patience kid, never get anywhere in a rush like that.” Iwai said with a chuckle as he held the postcard out, Kaoru taking it gingerly as he faintly recognized it as a Phantom Thieves postcard, like the ones they sold years ago in Shibuya.
And the handwriting on the front was definitely from his father’s former employee.
With the patience of a saint, Kaoru opened it and began to read aloud.
“Sirs Kaoru and Munehisa Iwai, the Merchants of the Bold. Through my time spent with the both of you, I learned lessons immeasurable in worth and obtained means to which further the agenda for which the Phantom Thieves strived and suffered.
As you know, the game has been lost and the Thieves disbanded, but I can’t let it end like this. Iwai, I imagine you’re proud of me for not giving up.
I won’t let you down Gun Dad, I promise you I’ll set things right.
Take care of your old man Kaoru, he’ll probably drop dead in a week if you don’t.”
“Kurusu still a cocky piece of shit…” Iwai said with a grin as he set his lollipop aside as his son continued to read.
“ I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you both soon”
“Does Fate even have a heart?” Iwai wondered aloud as Kaoru placed the calling card aside, equal parts fear and worry overwhelming him as he thought of the man he considered a brother, going who knows where and driven by his grief.
“If it doesn't, Akira will just pull something out of his ass and manage it anyway.” Kaoru said with confidence as his father placed a hand on his shoulder, a familiar smile forming on his lips.
“Kaoru, clear out a shelf in the shop. We’re making a new gun!” Iwai said with more energy than he’d had in years as he walked to the workshop in the garage, his son following with a wavering smile.
“Let’s get to work kid! The Joker ain’t gonna build itself!”
III Reversed Faith
17 Hours Remaining…
Sumire Yoshizawa had never expected to find herself alone again, not after meeting Akira and the Thieves. After all they had done together, she thought it would always be like that, them all together working to fix society.
Then Akira went home after that wonderful year, and her heart broke a little bit to watch him go, not even having the words to express to him how much he meant to her.
Then he returned a year later, an App having driven Japan insane as the world began to fall apart once again, and Aki- Joker, reached out to her.
They wanted her back, she had another chance to be a hero, to fight for a cause that wasn’t purely selfish… and she turned him down.
Her heart hurt every time that she saw him, Haru practically hanging off of his every word, and Sumire knew even then that her prince in a mask would never be Akira.
His heart had already been stolen by another.
But she refused to accept it, believing in her twisted fantasies.
She had worshipped the ground he had walked on, believed him to be her personal savior, the one to take her pain away and show her the glorious life she deserved.
She was wrong, and she had lied to herself more than anymore else.
She regretted it, telling him no, saying that she wasn’t a Phantom Thief. That it wasn’t her fight, not her duty to save the world.
At the time she had let her heart lead her, and it said it wanted to hurt Akira in any way it could… then Ryuji was crippled.
Then Haru vanished into the Metaverse never to be seen again.
A dark, shadowy part of Sumire cheered that Haru was gone, she laughed and plotted on swooping in and stealing her Senpai for herself, to heal his heart now that he was finally free to be with her.
Then she saw his pain.
And then Ann was dead.
The next day, Morgana was dead.
Her world shattered, that two of the teammates that she had once held dear, her friends, were dead.
And she realized how horrid she had become, no better than any of the monsters that they had found in Mementos, willing to use her heartbroken friend to make the hole in her own heart hurt a little less.
So she left, cut all contact, decided to work on herself.
Then she came back, she wanted to help Akira, not to have him but to heal him.
And she only made everything worse…
She wondered at times, what the world would be like if she had died instead of Kasumi, if her sister had been Violet instead, had lived on in Sumire’s name instead…
Wondered what her sister would have said if she found a calling card waiting by her bed, her name written across the back.
With a strength she doubted was left in her, Sumire lifted the card and saw Akira’s writing.
And she barely held it together long enough to read it.
“Madame Sumire Yoshizawa, the Wearer of Many Faces. You wear names as if they’re armor, but you failed to recognize that the true mask was over your heart. The game is over Sumire, we all lost, but there’s always a second chance.
I shall play again, to try and find a different ending to the game that we failed so poorly at, to avert the injustices we all suffered.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you soon”
Sumire knew it was true, his words.
And she would take them to heart, and try again.
A Bond Most Broken:
The Misplaced Faith
2020, Ginza
Sumire wasn’t a healthy person, she accepted that a long time ago, knowing that she wasn’t normal anymore, nor did she think she was a good person.
She would admit it, she had been stalking her Senpai for some time now, hoping beyond hope that something would happen to Haru…
She had loved Akira Kurusu for longer than she could remember, from the moment he had stood up for her on the train, she had felt a kindling in her heart because of him.
They drew so close together, he helped her learn the truth and accept who she really was, and when she finally awakened Cendrillon, she thought it was her perfect opening.
She’d join the Phantom Thieves, form a bond with its members, and finally she would steal Joker’s heart for herself…
And upon meeting his friends, she met his girlfriend… Haru Okumura.
She hated her from the moment she met her, and thus she decided to shadow the both of them, waiting for the moment Haru would slip up and Sumire would have something to use to ruin her…
But Haru was perfect.
Kind, polite, eager to help the less fortunate, and loving beyond possible for any girl with as much baggage as Haru had.
So she waited, she prayed, and she waited even more for something.
Some divine miracle that would break them up so Akira could be with her, they were meant for each other after all, yet he couldn’t seem to see it.
It wasn’t easy following them, considering they traveled so often, but her father was happy to help, though she did tell him she was still doing gymnastics.
And now, she found them finally back in Japan.
On a date…
Haru had taken a work call sadly, having to step away from Akira as her secretary filled her in on a Zoom call she was scheduled for later in the day, when the signal suddenly cut off without delay.
“Korra?” Trying to reopen the call, Haru was caught off guard as her phone’s screen turned completely red, an all too familiar eye appearing on it as her breath halted.
Years of searching for the Metaverse with Akira… and it just came to her without prompting.
“Please enter a destination to begin navigation.” The voice said as Haru turned to stare back at their table, Akira looking around for her as she started to walk back to him.
“Akira! I found the Metaverse! We have to get home!” Haru tried to yell to him over the noise and bustle of the restaurant, only for the phone to jolt to life in her hands.
“Match found: Akira Kurusu. Metaverse. Home.”
With a halted scream, Haru tried one last time to reach Akira as the words she dreaded most attacked her and she found herself lost adrift in a world of shadow.
“Beginning navigation.”
Sumire saw as Haru disappeared into the Metaverse, seemingly her wish was fulfilled… until she saw Akira push through the crowd and reach where Haru had been, her phone now held in his hands as he began to shake.
“Aki-” She tried to call out to him, only for her heart to stop as she swore she saw Joker’s mask appear on Akira for a second, his eyes burning scarlet as it faded away to ash, the crowd around him concerned and wary as the young man collapsed with Haru’s bag clenched to his chest.
Akira screamed, and Sumire couldn’t tell you for how long, because she ran away to escape it.
To escape his pain, to escape the fact that despite this being all she had asked for, she had never wanted it like this.
She had caused this, she was sure she did.
Sumire left after that, running from his crying face, and from her guilt.
IV Hermit and Moon
15 Hours Remaining…
Futaba’s life had changed drastically from the shy shut-in she had once been, now a successful if lazy businesswoman with a husband and children.
She would never understand how Yuuki managed to convince her that the picket fence life was what she wanted, but he had been just as shy as she had, and they found kindred spirits in each other.
Their youngest, Akari, gave another kick from within her, seemingly impatient to be born.
Wakaba had already left for school, whereas Yuuki was probably off in his study working on the Phan-site, which despite next to no one even remembering the Phantoms Thieves, he still maintained to this day.
As she waited for her coffee to brew, she found the man in question stumbling into the kitchen with a worried and sad look to his face, his phone in hand as she took in his aura with a frown.
“Yuuki… what’s wrong?” She asked as she reached out to him, only for him to hand her his phone, the one he had refused to upgrade over the years… and the Phan-Site was open on the browser, but it was greyed out… like the lights were turned off.
Then, she saw a new post on the front page, but not from her husband. He had stopped updating the site years ago, only keeping it up..
“The Phantom Aficionado Website has served it’s purpose, as all things do. From the Final Phantom Thief, the last Calling Card.”
And attached was a photo of one of the old postcards the Central Street supermarket sold, with handwriting messily scrawled across it, but she would recognize it anywhere.
“Sir Yuuki and Madame Futaba Sakura, They Who Kept the Faith. You have both been struck loose by the nature of our work, but emerged brighter and stronger than any peak we had ever reached. The pride you instill in me will never cease, and I apologize that I shall not see Wakaba and Akari grow into the wonderful women that I know they will be.
While we have lost, the game is not over, and I seek to play it again.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you soon.
P.S. Give my love to the Old Man.”
Sojiro hadn’t expected a call that afternoon, but he always welcomed a visit from Futaba and his grandkids, even if all of them cried into his arms, including Mishima.
To his dying day, he would never admit that he cried with them after seeing the last testament of his son.
They would see him again, of that they were sure.
V Councillor
13 Hours Remaining…
Takuto Maruki had been relieved when his shift ended for the night, having long parked in the depot and began the trek home, but for the oddest reason he felt compelled to check his mailbox on the way.
And within, he found the second Calling Card he had been given.
Whereas the first was an attempt to reach out to him in his delusion, and then was a declaration of war.
This… this was a goodbye from a dear friend, and he found himself reading it over for the rest of the night, the words burning themselves into his dreams.
He thought nothing could have been worse than losing Rumi.
He stood corrected.
“Sir Takuto Maruki, the Hopeful Dreamer. You dreamed of a world without pain, without suffering, where all could embrace their true selves without fear as their masks became a formality.
I rejected your offer long ago, and later came to regret it.
I have found my resolve once more, my spirit of rebellion having returned in my final moments.
I shall not follow in your footsteps brother, but I shall change the ending we all were subjected to. I shall renew the hope this world should have been given.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you soon”
When Maruki awoke the next morning, Asclepius waited to greet him, the healer garbed in pure white as Maruki felt a sad smile fall into place, Asclepius placing a hand upon his shoulder.
“It was all you could do, Dreamer.”
VI Judgement and Priestess
12 Hours Remaining…
Sae’s life had turned for the worst once again. She barely worked nowadays, preferring to slow down a bit, but her faith slowly faltered with each day that her sister slept on.
She had yet to awake, her hair growing thinner by the days and her skin pale as a spirit as Sae tried her hardest to care for her sister, all that she had left in this world.
Once in her life, she would have blamed Kurusu for this, for overworking Makoto and then vanishing when she stopped being useful to him.
But she couldn’t, she saw the light leave his eyes when she told him, she knew that the man was as hurt by what had happened as she was, so she could not hate him.
She asked after him now and then, called to make sure he was eating properly and getting enough sleep.
After some time he stopped answering her calls, but she still made them.
One day she knew she’d wake up and see on the news that Akira had died, either from recklessness or from taking his own life, she knew he wouldn’t let himself have a future without his love by his side.
When he joined the Diet and started working with Yoshida again, she felt hope.
She fooled herself into believing that he would be fine, that maybe she could see him come back to life.
Then she found a Phantom Thief calling card sitting beside Makoto’s bedside, the hospital staff not able to tell her who had left it.
But she knew, from the golden ink on the front that read both of their names.
She knew.
“Madame's Sae and Makoto Niijima, The Bearers of Justice. You both sought and fought for a way to resolve the illness inherent in this world, but I claim it’s a fight we have all lost. Reform is impossible when the heart is broken, and with all that have been lost, there can be no recovery.
The Phantoms Thieves were the last sin to be tallied, and we tipped the scales too far.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
Take care of her Sae”
Sae would keep her promise, even if her sister never awoke, she would never leave her side.
Never again.
VII Emperor
8 Hours Remaining…
Yusuke had stayed away from society, had faded into the background of the world in hopes that in the deepest shadows he could find himself again.
And despite the distance he had erected between himself and his former allies, the struggle he had undertaken to vanish into the world like Goemon had.
Despite it all, he now held a calling card in his hands, a scowl on his face as he read the name it was addressed to.
It wasn’t one of his, it was printed, likely a commercialized one from when they had been celebrities.
He was tempted to burn it, but a voice inside him told him to read it.
He didn’t know if it was Goemon that spoke, or just a part of him that was tired of running, but Yusuke listened to it without complaint.
“Sir Yusuke Kitagawa, the Man Who Paints with Thinner. You once told me that hope rested in all things, from the acorns that fell from the trees, the flowers that bloomed in Autumn doomed to freeze. You said that no matter how small or cursed, even nature has hope that all will be well.
I will never stop regretting the fact that I stole the hope you had fought so hard for, nor will I stop regretting letting you walk away.
You will always have a place in our hearts, but with an apology, I must now follow your example.
I will walk to the beginning of our story, and change our ending, for you. For all of us.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you soon”
Left dumbstruck and lost, Yusuke sat there for the rest of the night, wondering if there was even a home for him to go back to.
A part of him thought about everything he had missed, all he had abandoned…
And he thought about a church in Kanda.
A Bond Most Broken:
The Bitter Nomad
2017
“So… you’re leaving.” Hifumi Togo said with an unreadable expression as Yusuke sat beside her, his eyes cold as he looked everywhere but at her.
He had painted in this church once, the concept of blind faith and devotion sparking a fire within him that burned brightly in his pursuit of beauty.
That fire was mere embers now.
“I can’t stay here any longer Hifumi… The spirit I held is gone. There is no beauty left.” Yusuke said with not an ounce of emotion, his tone even flatter than it usually was as she felt not a hint of warmth within him.
She didn’t know what happened on their trip, as he refused to tell her after it, but she knew what had happened to Sakamoto.
She had a hint of what happened, but she missed her Fox…
“So then, is that just it, Yusuke? You’re giving up the game like that… What about me? What can I possibly do without you?” She said in a whisper as her hand came to stroke his jaw, his firm hand catching her own as his ice cold eyes glared at her with a heat she had never hoped to see from him.
“You’ll be better off without me, just as I’ll be better off anywhere but here.” Yusuke said in that same dead tone, his eyes quickly darting away from hers as she felt a bit of her heart crumble.
“Don’t say that Fox… The game’s not over until I say it is…” She begged of him as he turned to look at her, her Shogi board laying between them.
He just cast it aside, the pieces flying free as the board clattered against the ground, Hifumi’s breath catching as his eyes turned furious.
“I’m done playing Hifumi.” Yusuke said as he stood in the light of the church, the old couples around them were staring at him in anger and her in concern as he walked from the pews, Hifumi racing to catch up to him.
And as he stepped into the streets of Kanda, Hifumi tripping and falling somewhere behind him, he swore he felt Goemon’s anger and rage.
But directed at him for once.
VIII Tower
6 Hours Remaining…
It had been a regular day for Shinya, trying to find another bug in the castle level as his coworker claimed it was complete, that development could continue unabashedly.
He felt a weight on his shoulders then, his hat falling heavier on him than it usually did as he took a breath and began to check the code, while starting up the latest level to trial test.
But Shinya knew there was another bug, as Kori was a sloppy programmer at best, and he knew she always left a hole in the code.
Ah, there it was. When he used the Mask of Truth, it revealed a path leading to which switches had to be pulled in order to advance the puzzle, but the Mask was meant to be useless within the Castle.
It was as he was brutally exploiting the level, that the intern came to a stop outside his ramshackle of an office, a letter in hand.
“Hey Shin, you have a letter.”
With a wave away, Tomiga left the letter by his desk and scurried off, letting Shinya focus once more on his work, as he knew there had to be an issue with the boss' programming, as sending a party member to steal the Demon’s crown shouldn’t outright kill the boss.
By the time he considered the level flawless, night had already fallen on the world and his coworkers long gone for the night… and that letter from before in his hands.
No one sent him letters anymore, the last person being Akira-chan back when he graduated, a ticket to the Gun About Veterans Competition within.
Now, he found himself holding a calling card, an object he had always wanted but never wanted to earn, and the man that might as well have been his brother had left it for him.
“Sir Shinya Oda, The Man with a Heart as Strong as his Trigger Finger.
You brought life to all that you met, even though you judge yourself for how you once saw the world.
You and I both learned that victory wasn’t the truest reward, it was family all along, but I learned that lesson much later than you did.
The Phantom Thieves are gone Shinya, I know you dreamed of joining us when you were older, but the game is over.
I’m going back to the start, and I’m going to fix this, all of this.
I, the remaining Joker in the deck, shall steal the Heart of Fate itself.
See you soon little bro”
Shinya once heard it wasn’t cool for men to cry, but as he held the last traces of his best friend, a goodbye in all but the words themselves, he let himself cry.
Just this once.
IX Sun
4 Hours Remaining…
Toranosuke Yoshida died a beloved and honored hero to the people of Japan, a political warrior that fought for the peace and mind of the next generation, and who defended the future of those that felt themselves powerless.
He would be remembered as one of the greatest Prime Ministers that Japan had ever had, and his grave was constantly showered in flowers, charms, and letters people wrote of things they wish they could have told him.
Of how much they appreciated him, how he had changed their lives forever or inspired them to reach for goals they never thought possible.
And in the crowd of letters and remembrance, a single red and black card rested before the statue of him, his name written on it in golden lettering.
Tora would never read that letter, but it had to be written.
“Sir Toranosuke Yoshida, the Mentor I Never Thanked.
Thank you for everything, you saved me in more ways than one.
-Akira Kurusu”
And if the statue looked a bit weird, with a white masquerade mask on it’s face, no one cared to notice.
Over time someone would remove the mask, but there were those that loved it, believing it made Yoshida the hero they had always called him.
So a few days after it went missing, someone painted a mask onto the statue’s face, a golden mask that made his eyes shine like the sun.
He never sought fame or recognition, but Tora Yoshida would always have it.
X Justice
“I didn’t write you a calling card.” Akira said as he stood for a final time at Goro’s grave, the writing on the headstone hard to make out after years of storms and age, the unremarkable marker a far cry from the monument that Tora had gotten.
Akira knew that this was the way Goro would have wanted it though, to be forgotten and to allow his sins to cease hurting people. If Goro was forgotten, then the pain he caused would vanish as well, or so he would have likely thought.
Despite that, he still found himself coming back here a last time, to say goodbye.
“You always said I’d get myself killed being an idiot, but here I am sacrificing myself to try and save all of you. You’d still call me an idiot though, you’d say that you don’t want to be saved, just like before. I would argue that from the moment I met you, that I could never do anything but try to save you. And you would yell at me, say I was the filth of society and that you wanted nothing more than to kill me. But I remember the fear in your eyes when your cognition pointed a gun at me, you decided then and there where your loyalties lied… and I only wish we had met sooner Crow, if we had found you before he had… You didn’t deserve freedom, but you deserved redemption. You deserved to face justice, not to be made an example of the flaws in it. You deserved to earn your place at our side, and I’m sorry you never got it.”
He left the glove on the grave, the leather long worn out and the fingers mostly gone on it, but he had held on to it since the day Goro left them, but he didn’t need it anymore.
Akira would awaken the true Goro Akechi, save him from himself, no matter the cost.
He was not letting his family die again, not any of them.
“I’ll see you soon Crow.”
A Bond Most Broken:
The Blackened Mask
2016, Shibuya Station
“I’m going to be entirely honest with you.” Goro Akechi said in an even tone as the two of them took a breath outside the station, the remnants of Robin Hood holding tight to his heart as he felt the call of Loki within.
Robin wished to strengthen their ties with Joker, to tell him the truth of the Conspiracy, of Shido. To enlist his and the Thieves help in finally making his father pay, and he knew he could accept that. He didn’t need his bastard of a father to die, merely to be ruined. He would take the man in a jail cell over free any day… but he knew it couldn’t be.
They weren’t strong enough to stand against Shido, and he couldn’t rely on them no matter how much Robin begged him to, to give in and embrace them as he so dearly wished to.
Loki scoffed within his head, and remarked on how easy it would be to kill Joker, to steal the light from his eyes and the air from his lungs, of how messy his apartment would become if he dismembered Joker piece by piece.
He’d do it in the bathtub then, to minimize the mess.
The blood would drain and he could use the shower head to rinse the corpse clean.
Then, when the pieces were dried and sterile as corpse fragments could be, he would use them to fertilize his balcony garden.
His Sun Tomatoes would be glorious.
“I hate you.”
Joker’s eyes went wide then as Akechi could only grimace at him in turn, his rage palpable as he beheld the surprise in the other boy. Had he really thought they were friends? What a fool.
“Your ease at achieving what others deem impossible, your desire to pry into businesses beyond your understanding, your… NEED to fix things that are better left broken. But most of all, I hate that you’re stronger than me, that you can do what I could only dream of… Because it isn’t fair Joker.” Akechi said with malice dripping from his teeth as his eyes flared at the sight of Joker’s saddened face, the hope he saw draining from his eyes.
That despair reflected in those eyes, was paradise incarnate for his warped soul.
“Crow…”
“THAT… is not my name.” Akechi said with pure hatred in his voice as he reached out and grabbed Joker by the throat, the Phantom Thief pulling at his hold as he pinned him against the wall, his nails digging into the tender flesh as he enjoyed the look in Joker’s eyes as his air began to abandon him.
“I am not one of your little playmates Joker. I will not play your games any longer. I may work together with you all, but know that if you continue to believe in this idiotic idea that we are FRIENDS… Then I will not hesitate to end our arrangement. You will not contact me unless we are entering the palace, or I shall ensure you end up in a police interrogation room. Do I make myself clear, Joker?” Akechi growled out as Joker finally broke free of his grasp, the people around them crowding in concern as their idol was seen choking a person in public.
They probably assumed it was justified.
“Understood?” Akechi said with a growl as he straightened his tie, the other boy staring at him in turn as the crowds began to disperse.
Joker just rubbed at his throat in pain, his eyes cold in a way they had never been with him before, and Akechi acknowledged that maybe he was finally understanding the depths of his hatred for him.
“Whatever you say… Crow.”
XII Strength
5 Minutes Remaining…
“Is that everything Trickster?” Lavenza said with a worried glance as the two found themselves once more standing outside the door of the Velvet Room, the two having practically traveled all across Tokyo to deliver his farewells, and yet now he held one last one in his hands.
“This one is for you, Lavenza.” He said with a sad smile as he handed it to her, her shocked expression saying far too much.
“You… you wrote one for me?”
“Of course I did.” With that, he patted a hand softly on her head, a habit of his he had picked up with Justine, and one that she now freely embraced.
“I will miss you… Akira.” She muttered back at him, tears beginning to stain her face as she could only look at them in confusion.
“I’ll fuse you again Lavenza. I won’t let you suffer like before.” Akira said with a tear of his own, his hand falling to her shoulder.
“Take care of them Lavenza, and…” At this, he fished free his old cell phone, the one he had used ever since his probation, dinged and nicked more times than he could count, but it still worked as ever.
“I won’t be needing this anymore.” With that, he placed the phone in her small hands, her fingers curling around it as she held it to her chest, treasuring it.
“I don’t have another gift for you Trickster… All I had was the key.” She muttered aloud as the Velvet Room door began to glow an ominous red, and they both knew not much time was left.
“You’re family Lavenza, that’s all I ever wanted from you.” He said with a smirk as he pulled open the door, the attendant following him through it as she held both the phone and calling card closely.
“Welcome back Trickster. It is time.”
And mere moments after Akira Kurusu stepped into the Velvet Room, a wave of energy blasted through the city, buildings warping and changing as people vanished and others appeared from nowhere.
The timeline had solidified, what had happened in the past had become a new reality.
All through the country, and the world, reality shifted in unexpected and strange ways, conflicts undone and events altered.
And in a finely decorated room, a woman awoke from a deep sleep, her husband stirring at her side.
“Haru… you okay?” He blinked his eyes sleepily at her, an expression of concern as he wrapped his arm around her.
“Yeah Aki… just a weird dream.”
April 9th, 2016
“What?! Are you for real?” A voice nearby, the hard metal of the train seat jumping as they sped along the tracks, the feel of his old glasses on his nose as he blinked at the sudden light.
“A mental shutdown?” Two girls talking by the doors, so very familiar, he knew them… knew this conversation…
“It’s the truth!” Akira knew this day, knew it well, the buildings of Aoyama-Itchome blowing past the windows as he found his phone once more in his hands, the Metanav suddenly appearing on his home screen with no prompt or marvel.
“To a person though? That’s gotta be a joke.”
He felt a grin form then as he looked to the ceiling of the train, a familiar warmth spreading through his chest as he took a breath for the first time in seemingly years.
He was back.
The game was just beginning.
Chapter 3: A Game By A Different Name
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter III: A Game By A Different Name
“The Velvet Room is-” The being, Philemon tried to explain to me in some most likely impressive and well thought out way, but I had been to a lot of strange places. This place was too familiar to not know what it was just from the feeling.
“A metaphysical realm situated within the mind, but hovering between the boundaries of the Human World and the reality beyond it, correct?”
Philemon froze then, his eyes both annoyed and surprised as I just grinned there in the blue void, a feeling telling me that I hit it right on the head.
“I was not aware you were… educated.”
“I've been around for awhile, I've learned plenty.”
“Regardless, the Velvet Room is a room removed from reality, and you shall be it’s master.” Philemon said as if that made any sense at all, the master part of it at least. I could feel from the dormant energies circling him that Philemon was deeply connected to this plane of reality, and I couldn’t understand how exactly I would just usurp such a connection.
“Ah, I didn’t elaborate. My apologies, but this story shall require some backstory, if I may?” Philemon begged permission then as I merely shrugged, a chair appearing to catch me as he did the same.
If I had to listen to some god’s exposition, I was going to be comfortable, regardless of the place or the time.
“Once again, my name is Philemon. Few are aware, but like your master, I am an Incarnate. I am the Incarnate of Hope, and as such serve as a god of creation, but only in the metaphysical realm.” Philemon explained as the empty void around us vanished, the streets of New York forming as crowds of people traveled past, all of them neatly stepping around us as they mindlessly carried on their way.
“You know Phil, the last Incarnates I met that weren’t Death or my son, I killed.” I said bluntly as I leaned back. I had quite a score tallied up by this point, one being or another having found themselves… offended with my existence. Chuck, the first Incarnateof Light, both the first and the second Incarnates of Darkness, and hell, I even killed Karma.
I can confirm, she was in fact, a bitch.
“I’m well aware, Avatar. I have been quite interested in your work, and now I find myself in need of your aid.” Philemon said as once more the screen he had used reappeared, the six people all lined up in a row.
The boy in the mask stood out even more compared directly to the others.
“You see, just as with Death and Life, Darkness and Light, I too hold a universal opposite. His name is Nyarlathotep, he is the Incarnate of Despair.” He explained as an image of a dark haired man appeared before us, a scarlet suit on his frame and an animalistic grin on his face that made even me want an adult to protect me.
“Guy sounds fun at parties.”
“I assure you, any party featuring Nyarlathotep would end only in disaster. He believes that Humanity is a scourge on the Earth, and doomed to destroy themselves. He is of the belief that rather than wait for the inevitable, it is instead better to end their ‘suffering’ early.” Philemon said as I got a pretty good idea of who Nrarly was. A real depressing cynic who wanted only doom and gloom and spouted a verbal avalanche of edge.
“First. It was a joke Phil, I’m not planning any parties with him on the guest list. Second. Now that I know of your nemesis, why exactly do you need me?” I asked with a straight face then as Philemon merely waved a hand, a thickly bound tome appearing in the air before us, a simple title on it.
The Gamble
“While my power is firmly refined to the Metaphysical realm, Nyarlathotep’s power is not, though I never allowed him to learn such a fact. Knowing that he operated with such an advantage over me, I could not allow him to destroy humanity. So, I made a wager with him. Both of us would limit our interference with humanity, aside from the occasional person of no real importance, and would not take a physical form. This book contains the agreement we chose, and contains a note of every time either of us have interacted with humanity. Both he and I have a copy.” At that the book’s pages began to turn and I saw the examples laid bare before me, and both of their contributions.
“If he can’t do anything, then why am I here Phil?”
“Nyarlathotep will break our rules in the year 1999, choosing to take a physical form in order to strengthen a man that sought humanity’s end. He believed it was worth being sealed away, so long as it was too late for me to fix what he had done. Long after that, reality was reset, and I found myself once more at the beginning, with knowledge of all that was to come.” Philemon explained as I took it fairly easily, as I actually realized what he meant.
When Chuck, the first Light, went mad, he destroyed most of the known multiverse aside from a single universe. When that world too fell, Jack had to rewrite reality to restore everything. Which meant that once again, things were my fault…
“The gist of all of this, of why I dragged your Spirit here instead of to the life you were meant to live for your 96th, it is quite simple. I may know the future, and how to change it, but I can not break the agreement. If I were sealed away, then humanity would be doomed to ruin… thus, you provided the perfect solution. You shall take my body and name, my powers as well, and do what I can not. As the agreement rests in the foundation of my identity, I shall not assimilate with you mentally as you are so used to. Thus, I will continue to exist among the humans as one of them, and you will be Philemon. You shall be the Incarnate of Hope.”
And, that was a confusing bombshell, but the logic checked out. If the agreement they made was Incarnate-level binding, then it would be ingrained in the fiber of their being. If I only took Philemon’s body, then I wouldn’t technically be him in a cosmic sense, I would just be a guy in his body.
“You’ve planned this carefully.”
“Indeed. And I shall not leave you aimless, I come bearing a gift to aid you.” At that, a thick journal appeared in my hand, the cover a dark blue with only a small golden V on the face of it.
“Consider this your compendium, an archive of all events that shall transpire, and where and what you must interfere within. Do be aware, you will find Shatterpoints within time, merely steer clear as you usually do. You must do as is written, and provide guidance to your guests.”
“Guests?”
At that I swore Philemon looked like he wanted to facepalm himself, I knew that look on his face well.
“I forgot to mention, apologies. As the Incarnate of Hope, you have the ability to allow humans to manifest their true nature as powerful specters known as Persona. From time to time, a Guest shall arrive in this room. It is your place to guide them, but you may not do everything for them. Each of them shall embark on a journey, and for once in your existence my friend, you are not the one to shine or walk the path. You must be the guiding hand behind the scenes, the director, you could say.” Philemon said as his form began to flicker slightly, almost like a hologram as the room around us began to change before my eyes.
Where once was a void, now stood a library of blue, a prominent desk situated at the end of it.
“Ah, so I am truly human now… Regardless, this room is not meant to be empty, Avatar. You will require assistants… No, attendants. Someone to ensure that this room's purpose is fulfilled, even when you are not there. Tell me, have you ever created life before?”
I thought about the technicalities of that for a second, before I had my answer and a smile on my lips.
It would be interesting, stepping back for once, the world on someone else’s shoulders for a change.
“I’ll try anything at least five times.”
April 9th, 2016
Yongen-Jaya
Things had gone off without a hitch so far, at least as far as Akira could remember, though oddly he didn’t have that vision of Arsène at Shibuya Crossing as he had the first time. A part of him was worried at that, fearing that it meant that even though his mask had returned, that he still held a disconnect with his true self.
However, that connection he had lost was back in full force, but Arsène was gone, only a strange faceless being inside his heart, its power tied to the mask he felt before.
The new mask, which meant his true self had likely changed, and he needed a new mask… but a part of him would miss Arsène, since he realized that perhaps he had merely changed too much for the Thief to keep up with…
He wasn’t the boy that awoke in Kamoshida’s Castle anymore, it would be too much to ask for a Persona that awoke from who he used to be, to stick around when he no longer was that person.
Yet, he noticed what Igor had mentioned, that things were different.
Akira knew he was meant to go directly to Yongen-Jaya to meet Sojiro after he arrived in Shibuya, but a part of him longed to travel to Central Street after having spent so much time there.
Most of it seemed exactly the same as he remembered… until he arrived where Big Bang Burger should have been.
“What the hell is Cafe Venus?” He had asked aloud as he stood outside a tasteful restaurant, one far closer to Leblanc than Big Bang Burger, and he merely wondered what all had changed.
Had the Okumura family gone bankrupt? Did Kunikazu never turn the family business into an assembly line fast food nightmare?
Too many questions to deal with for right then and there, so he went back on his way to Yongen, hoping that Sojiro wouldn’t be too upset with him, though he did remember that Boss hadn’t liked him at all at the start.
He wasn’t looking forward to having to earn the man’s affection again, when he had practically become his father, not that Inei Kurusu had been much of one to begin with. Not hard to be better than a man that left his wife to go run off with a woman he met on the street and then completely disappeared.
Sojiro had been a perfect step up from that bastard.
To his delight, Yongen looked practically identical to how it had once been, from Mr. Usami tending to his shop and gracing him with a smile despite never having met before, to the little girl and her dog that walked past Sojiro’s house every day.
Despite often seeing her and even listening to her talk with her mother, he had never actually introduced himself to the girl, though he had been overcome with sadness when her dog Kotaro had died.
Did it make him a bad person, that he knew the dog’s name, but not hers?
He had done enough angstful pondering though, and decided it was time to bite the bullet and meet Sojiro, hopefully he would be able to make a better first impression this time.
To his surprise, Leblanc was actually full of customers for once, after having never seen it with more than three customers in the past, he was astounded.
Did that outsider, or whatever they are, somehow make Leblanc successful?
However, his heart lifted a bit when he laid eyes on his former guardian, Sojiro looking exactly as he had before, down to the little beard and the glasses that Akira had later copied the style of when he joined the Diet.
As Sojiro had said, he couldn’t keep being a hipster.
At the ring of the bell, Sojiro turned his head and… smiled at him.
He firmly recalled their first meeting, something akin to dread in Sojiro’s voice.
‘Oh, right. They did say that was today.’
Like Akira had been a burden he hadn’t looked forward to, yet now Sojiro was smiling at him and coming closer and-
Sojiro was hugging him, and Akira had never felt more awkward.
“Akira! You should have called ahead, I thought you’d be in earlier! You had me worried.” Sojiro said with a warm grin and a clap on the shoulder as he led him to a seat at the bar, the Curry timer going off in the kitchen as Sojiro sped off to get it, far faster than Akira had ever seen the man move.
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up at the station, but I couldn’t get anyone to cover the shop and I wanted to have some actual food waiting for you for when you got here. I figured your mom didn’t give you enough for any of the expensive trash in Shibuya Station.” Sojiro said as he placed a warm bowl of Curry before him, a cup of coffee quickly joining it as Akira fell practically limp on his stool, wondering what weird alternate world he had found himself in.
Sojiro liked him, without any work…
“Mr. Sakura, what-”
“What’re you calling me that for? You haven’t called me that since you were five, kid. I know it’s been a while, but way to make me feel old.” Sojiro said with a casual, yet confused gaze, as Akira suddenly felt a throbbing, intense pain in his head as his eyes fell to the counter top.
‘Akira, this is an old friend of mine, Sojiro. He’s your godfather.’
‘But please kiddo, just call me boss. Everyone does.”
Sojiro went to his fifth birthday party. Sojiro went to school with his mom. Sojiro was his fucking godfather.
Things were happening way too fast, let alone with the memory dump, and Akira found himself collapsing at the bar, the customers and Sojiro quickly checking after him.
“Aki, you alright kiddo? Did you hit your head on the train?” Sojiro said with concern as he quickly helped Akira stand up, his arm bracing the young man as he practically dragged him to a booth.
“Just… tired.” Akira managed to mutter out as he swore the room was spinning, conversations and memories he had never had quickly assaulting his mind as he began seeing memories from his last life flashing past his eyes as they mixed and conflicted with new ones.
It was quickly becoming hard to tell the difference between the two.
“Just sit here Akira, catch your breath. I’ll call ahead and then get you home, just let me close up the shop, okay?” Sojiro asked with a hand on his shoulder as Akira could only do a shaky nod as the man began apologizing to his customers and asking them to come back tomorrow.
He called it a family emergency.
It was at that point, as Sojiro turned to look back at him with more emotion than Akira had ever seen from the man, that he finally passed out at the booth.
He was tired...
“I’m telling you something’s wrong with him, it’s like he barely recognized me…” A voice at the edge of his mind, the voice distorted and strange as he floated in the dark abyss around him, his form lost and yet nonexistent at the same time.
“And the doctor already said it was a panic attack.”
“But he used to be so calm as a kid.” A light pierced the darkness then, and Akira found himself aware, but still lingering beyond the veil of consciousness.
“And it’s been over eleven years. People change Soji, could you imagine not seeing Futaba for eleven years, and then just showing up and hugging her out of the blue? She’d freak out too.”
And it was then, that it all vanished and Akira felt the bed below him, could feel his body laying adrift as he felt himself come back to the world, his head a mess of pain, though he felt like he was given a painkiller by the coolness in his head.
“Shh, he’s waking up.” Sojiro, definitely Sojiro’s voice, said aloud as Akira slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in a room he didn’t recognize at all, and that definitely wasn’t the attic of Leblanc.
“Hey kiddo, you gave us quite the scare there. You feeling better?” Sojiro asked him with worry in his tone, though he did keep his distance this time, though Akira didn’t really care. Ann had hugged him enough that he could never turn down physical affection anymore.
Ann…
Things would be better this time.
“Yeah, sorry for worrying you, I just don’t handle trains very well.” Akira apologized and lied at the same time, rightfully assuming that it was easier to claim he had motion sickness, then to explain that he had traveled back in time from an alternate future, and now was having to deal with an overload of memories due to assuming the life of his alternate self.
“And here Sojiro was thinking you’d be fine taking the train, if I had known I would have picked you up myself.” A woman’s voice spoke aloud then as Akira’s eyes furrowed a bit, not recognizing the voice at all, and wondering who could be here.
It was too old of a voice to be Futaba, and Sojiro had said he had worried THEM, and…
Wakaba Isshiki walked into the room.
“What?!” He cried out without thinking before he found himself once more falling back on the bed, the shock alone putting him back under.
“Oh, and it’s my fault he passed out.” Sojiro said with a joking grin as Wakaba looked ashamed of herself for a moment, her eyes concerned as she stepped closer to the boy, Sojiro right at her side.
“Still believe something’s not wrong?”
Chi-Mura, Japan
1996
“What are you doing for your electives this year Sakura-kun?” A boy with dark hair asked aloud as Sojiro Sakura and he sat in the halls of Shishō Academy, the two of them trying to debate what it was they wanted to do that year, but neither could quite decide.
“I mean, I like cooking, but I don’t know if I want to focus on that… I guess Theoretical Sciences? Science is cool, right?” Sojiro asked his friend for support, but the boy just scoffed aloud at the idea, his tone completely biased.
“Theoretical Sciences is just a bunch of philosophical bullshit man, why would you want to waste your time talking about imaginary stuff?” He asked aloud as Sojiro just tuned him out, as he had thought a lot about it. He hadn’t really shared it, but philosophy had always intrigued him, though he didn’t fully understand all of it, and the class seemed like philosophy applied to science.
Couldn’t be all bad.
“I don’t know Ken, it just feels right, you know?” Sojiro said with a shrug as he looked at his schedule. He could only take one of them, so he had to make a decision, something he never liked doing.
“If you want my two cents, I say go with science. You can always learn to cook.” An unknown voice said then as the boys turned on the spot, an older man standing there that they had never seen approached, his outfit dark and foreboding, and… what looked like a grey bird mask on his face?
What kind of psycho had wandered into their school?
“W-who are you?” Ken said with shock and alarm as the man simply laughed at him, his hands held aloft to do no harm as he slid to a seat by the boys, both of them a little hesitant of the man’s sudden presence.
“A man of no consequence. I just got finished with a tour of your school, quite a nice place. But yeah, Sakura-San, was it? I would say go for that science class, you always meet interesting people in classes like that, who knows what friends you’ll make…” The man said cryptically as he stood then, his suit remaining pristine as if he had never sat on a dirty school floor, that mask not moving even an inch as he moved so suddenly.
“So, you recommend science?” Sojiro asked quietly as the man smiled at him then, the man’s dark eyes now smiling at him in a way his mask wouldn’t allow, the man more akin to an owl than a passerby one would usually see.
“Oh yes, I think you’ll have a blast Sakura-San, but do hurry up in signing up, I heard not many spaces are left in the class, and you can’t really make friends if you don’t even meet them.” And with that, to their utter confusion, the stranger pried open a window in the hall, and jumped out of it before they could try to stop him.
They were on the fourth floor.
And yet, as they crowded at the window, the body of a crazy fool didn’t rest on the ground, the man having vanished like morning mist in the afternoon sun.
“What the hell just happened Sojiro?” Ken said with wide eyes as they quickly left that hallway, not wishing to linger there in case the man’s body did turn up somewhere. Neither wished to be accused of murder.
“I don’t know… but I kind of want to sign up for Theoretical Sciences now, just to explain what on Earth we just saw…”
“Oh, are you signing up for Theoretical Sciences? So are we!”
“Uh, yeah, I had it recommended to me… I’m Sojiro, Sojiro Sakura.”
“I’m Wakaba Isshiki, and this is my friend Aiya Amamiya, and that gloomy idiot is her boyfriend Inei.”
“By the way, anyone else see a weirdo in an owl mask?”
April 10th, 2016
“Look who’s awake, you scared us last night kid. Gonna make me have a stroke at this rate.” Sojiro said jokingly as Akira woke up, his eyes scanning the room around him as he saw his old suitcase lying empty next to a dresser, his stuff presumably packed away.
And this still wasn’t the attic either. Was he staying at Sojiro’s house?
“I… what happened?”
“You passed out as soon as Wakaba walked in, can’t tell you how offended she was that I woke you up, and she made you pass out again.” Sojiro said casually then as it cemented in Akira’s mind at this point a solid fact.
Wakaba was alive.
Somehow, in some way, Akechi never killed her.
Which… gave him mixed feelings.
Wakaba being alive was one of the biggest changes Maruki had made to reality, yet… according to Igor all that had happened in the past wasn’t manipulation or mind altering like Maruki had done, this was someone actually altering the past.
All of this was real, their mysterious outsider just changed the past to make things happen… and managed to save Wakaba’s life, which meant that…
Futaba wouldn’t have a palace, as she can’t blame herself for the death of her mother that never died…
“Anyway, I just wanted to come up and tell you that we’re technically supposed to go enroll you at Shujin today, but if you’re still feeling lightheaded we can do it later.” Sojiro said with a pat to his shoulder, only now did Akira notice Sojiro was wearing his fedora, the hat he had only worn twice in all the time he had known the man.
However, Akira was both eager and dreading heading to Shujin, a part of him wanting to find out for himself what else had changed.
But one thing still lingered in his mind.
“I’m on probation, right Boss?”
Sojiro’s eyes bugged out then in shock, his gaze even more worried than it had been before.
“Probation? Kid, you’ve never even stolen a pencil, what the hell would you be on probation for?”
…
Was… Did Shido not exist in this world? Had their mysterious time traveler erased him from existence? Is that why he wasn’t on probation, why Wakaba was alive?
He needed answers, and he couldn’t just sit here if he was going to get them.
“Sorry, must have been a dream. I’m good to go to Shujin, but before we go can I get the Wifi password Sojiro?”
He didn’t search much on the way to Shujin, but he did confirm one thing.
Masayoshi Shido was in fact, alive.
He was also the Prime Minister of Japan, as the last one died a year earlier, leading to Shido throwing his hat in during the special election.
Which meant that Shido couldn’t try to rape a woman in Chi-Mura, and which meant that Akira never tried to stop him.
Shido never tripped, and Akira was never sent away to Tokyo as part of his probation.
While Akira was glad that he wasn't a criminal in this world, the fact Shido was Prime Minister scared the crap out of him.
As well, he had checked the texts on his phone to find many surprises.
Aiya Amamiya, Kurusu for a short time before the divorce, was a busy woman compared to the one he had known before.
His mother worked for Kadmon Laboratories, an organization Akira was sure hadn’t existed before, and Akira was staying with his godfather (And it was weird thinking of Sojiro as his godfather…) for the year while his mom worked on a new project.
And though he hadn’t meant to, he found a page for Kadmon Laboratories, and another surprise had awaited him…
“Nearly five years ago, young visionary Takuto Maruki arose from Tokyo University and brought with him the revelation of a world beyond that of our own, a world all inside your mind. With his research partner Wakaba Isshiki, the two re-introduced Cognitive Therapy, a once flawed concept, now proven to be a real and possible treatment.
A method of treating deep seated trauma by stimulating change in memories, Cognitive Therapy changed the world through it's practical applications, from the military to abuse victims.
Though Isshiki later slowed down in her research, Maruki has remained a respected figure in the Cognitive Psience community, leading many to question whether the study holds more than therapeutic uses.”
Maruki and Wakaba published the Metaverse, though it seems they kept it’s existence as an actual place a secret, as Akira could find nothing about shadows, metaversal cognitions, or anything close to palaces.
Which, that was a total mindfuck to read through.
Wanting to give it a bit of time before he researched his other friends, he found himself quiet on the way to Shujin as Sojiro tried to make conversation.
“You know, Futaba was really upset when you just went to sleep last night. She stayed up late hoping to talk to her god brother after all. I can’t even think of the last time you two saw each other.” Sojiro said with a smile as Akira couldn’t help but have one too.
While Futaba had practically been his little sister before, it was nice to have a closer tie to her and Sojiro, even if he hadn’t been expecting it.
“Anyway, the principal was kind enough to find a spot for you on the register, so be sure to thank him when you get finished. I’ll be waiting for you outside, just text me when you’re finished.” Sojiro said with a smile as Akira stepped out of the car, his gaze warm as he laid eyes on Shujin Academy, a place he had once sworn to never return to.
Too many painful memories.
And it was as he stood there, taking in the sights of it all, that someone ran into him, knocking them both over.
“Oh shit, I didn’t see you there man, you okay?” An extremely familiar voice asked in a concerned manner as Akira pulled himself to his feet, a boy his age with dark hair in a yellow sleeveless hoodie met his gaze.
“I’m sorry about bowling you over there pal, I tend to zone out during my runs, coach is always getting on me about it. Wait, are you new? I haven’t seen you around?” The boy asked as Akira found himself confused, even more so than when Wakaba turned up alive.
“Yeah, my name’s Akira Kurusu, I’m staying here for the year.” Akira said with a smile that held none of his confusion as the other boy shook his hand, the boy’s grin infectious as he confirmed what Akira had suspected.
And opened an entirely new can of worms.
“I’m Ryuji Sakamoto, I’m on the track team here, so if you want I can put in a good word for ya, since I kinda ran you over.”
Ryuji didn’t dye his hair in this world, the track team wasn’t disbanded, he didn’t walk with a limp, and he didn’t have a prosthetic that looked more machine than man.
But he was Ryuji.
“Don’t worry about it man, I wasn’t looking either. I gotta go get enrolled, but do you like Ramen?” Akira asked with a grin as Ryuji’s face lit up, the boy’s expression as bright as the sun.
He may not be his Ryuji, but he was A Ryuji.
“Duuuudddeee, I know the best Ramen place in Shibuya, we gotta go sometime, you know when I don’t have practice. Oh, we should exchange numbers, don’t want to lose track of someone willing to buy me Ramen.”
“When did I say I was paying?”
“When you brought up Ramen when my wallet’s empty. Now do you like Kurume or Hakata better?”
Akira just let him ramble for a bit, but he did find himself smiling a bit when he heard a familiar voice echo in his mind.
I am thou... Thou art I...
Thou hast rekindled a broken vow...
It shall birth new hope and create a hold on this reality
A bond that breaketh Fate's grip on the world
With the rebirth of the Chariot Arcana, you have obtained the strength that shall lead you to the end of this Game…
“Have you heard anything about this… mental shutdown business?” Sojiro asked as the two arrived at Leblanc, the reason being that he had to pick up some stuff for Akira’s room, or so Sojiro said.
And that’s how Akira found himself led into the attic that once was his room, now completely full of boxes and old junk, like what an attic probably should be.
With Futaba not a complete hermit and Akira not a criminal, he had quickly gotten used to the idea of actually living with them, though he still was considering cleaning up Leblanc’s attic for them to use as a headquarters later…
Which was an entirely different matter…
He had said yes to going back, but now it finally sunk in that he’d have to go through everything again.
Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, Okumura, Sae, Shido, and hopefully not Maruki on top of all of that.
He felt… daunted, by what lay ahead.
“The ones on the news? I saw there’s been accidents, but I can’t tell you what exactly a mental shutdown is.” Akira replied with ease as he chose to keep that particular card close to his chest, having to dodge when an old hat was thrown his way, the two of them searching through the attic for something that Sojiro hadn’t really told him what it was yet.
“Wakaba explained it to me a while ago. It’s basically when you permanently remove a part of someone’s mind, and they can’t function anymore so they just… break, I suppose. They usually die right after. It’s… it’s hard seeing something my wife worked on for so long, be used to hurt people.”
Wakaba and Sojiro were married… Sojiro and Wakaba Sakura…
Not something Akira had considered, but it made far more sense than he realized, and it did explain why Wakaba and Futaba were living with Sojiro in this reality.
“I can’t imagine having my work be used like that. What is Wakaba doing about all of this?” Akira asked with interest as he found a chest of sorts, one he didn’t recognize at all, and Sojiro didn’t seem to either.
“Um, her lab’s doing an investigation, but… I have no idea what that is, it’s not mine.” Sojiro said with a curious glance as the two stood over it, and Akira tried to open it.
Locked tight, but he felt a sudden presence in his blazer pocket, his key to his old cell in the Velvet Room sticking out of it, and… it looked like the key would fit the chest.
But whatever was in there, he definitely didn’t want to open with Sojiro right next to him.
“Something to figure out later.”
“Good point, we still gotta find that thing.” Sojiro said with a renewed smile as he started digging through the boxes away, wanton disregard for their contents as he searched.
“What thing exactly?”
“Hell if I know.”
At the same time that Akira was digging through a musty attic, another young man found himself waking up sore in an alleyway, blood in his eyes as he slowly forced his way to his feet.
Scarlet trickling down his face from a small gash as he tried to figure out exactly where he was.
When he eventually gave up, he decided it’d be better to make a call.
“Where the hell have you been?” The man on the other side said with concern as the young man rolled his eyes at the tone, his vision wavering as he relaxed against the alley wall.
“It was a rough night.” He muttered out as he pulled what was left of his coat around him, only to have a staggering pain in his left side as he almost collapsed from it alone. “Oh yeah, and I think my left arm is broken…”
“I swear you’ll call me next week saying you were shot in the head.”
“Close. My bag got shot.” He said with an unearned smile as the ragged remains of his messenger bag clung from his shoulder, the bullet and the knife doing plenty to scatter it’s contents to pieces.
“What excuse am I supposed to use this time, huh? Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?”
“You know me, I get bored too easily.”
Notes:
Using Amamiya for Akira's mother's maidan name was too perfect not to use.
Chapter 4: Someone's Flipped the Chessboard
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter IV: Someone’s Flipped the Chessboard
2022, California
“Akira… why aren’t I good enough? Everything I’ve… everything I’ve done, I helped kill god… and yet I’m still not good enough for her… What am I supposed to do now?” Ann asked quietly as her red eyes turned back to Akira, his eyes no better as he had finally opened up about how Haru’s disappearance had affected him, about how he had to move because he couldn’t go back to their apartment without the pain choking him deeply.
“All we can do Ann… We keep moving forward, and we don’t look back. A wise friend once told me that no matter how bad things get… they always get better.” Akira mumbled out as her hair blinded him, the two of them collapsed together on the hotel bed as soft jazz played from somewhere in the room, neither wanting to move and just letting it play out to remove some of the quiet from within their minds.
“Your wise friend sounds full of shit…”
“Yeah, he often is, but I like to think I wouldn’t be here without Tora. He always had the answer to whatever was going on… But I can say this Ann, you are an incredible person, and I pray you believe that.” Akira said with a serious tone then as he reached out to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she tucked herself into his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat dulling her mind as she began to drift off.
“Why couldn’t I have just loved you…? You’re perfect...”
“Because we bring out the worst in each other Ann, and while I may look good in drag, I’m not exactly your type.” Akira said with a weary smile as Ann actually let out a laugh, her tired eyes shining at him as she began to caress his face, an exhausted aura to her as he just leaned into her touch.
“You’re too good of a friend Akira. I’m sorry you ever met me…”
“Ann…”
“Because I don’t believe you."
April 11th, 2016
This was the day that had started everything, the first day of the first stage of the Game, the day where everything had begun.
Akira had met Ryuji that day, seen Ann for the first time, and had sadly encountered Kamoshida as well.
The first domino had fallen, something had been bothering him because he knew something was off about Kamoshida, noticed a darkness hiding within that shiny smile…
And now, he lived that day again, yet everything was different.
He had met Ryuji the day before, his friend so very different and yet alike in so many ways, including his tendency to text him at three in the morning…
He was taking the train today, but it was taking far too long to arrive… and he got curious.
The Metanav shined like a siren as he pulled his phone free, the eye staring at him in seemingly hatred as he allowed himself to press the icon, the familiar splash screen stretching out as he took a breath.
“Please enter a destination to begin navigation.” The same old voice he wished to hear for years, finally calling out to him as he longed to find at least some answers.
Time to give it a shot…
“Suguru Kamoshida.”
“No results found.”
Well, that was a kick to the gut, apparently Kamoshida wasn’t distorted enough to have a palace, but maybe he had a shadow in Mementos, though Akira had no way of knowing without a Navigator or going there himself.
Which reminded him, he could technically recruit Futaba considering she wasn’t a hermit in this reality and lived down the hall, but he wanted to be sure of a few things before he brought back the Phantom Thieves.
“Ichiryusai Madarame.”
“No results found.”
So, Madarame wasn’t distorted either, which meant another palace that they wouldn’t have to go through. A quick search on his phone revealed that Madarame was actually dead.
Apparently he had died of a heart attack about fifteen years ago… when Yusuke’s mother would have been painting the Sayuri.
According to a news report, Sai Kitagawa had inherited Madarame’s estate as his only remaining student, and was raising her son to love art as much as she did.
While a part of him longed to make amends with the Yusuke he had lost, he took no small amount of joy in knowing that the Yusuke of this world would never suffer like his old friend had.
Yusuke would never have his faith in art shaken, nor would he grieve for a mother he couldn’t even remember.
“Junya Kaneshiro.”
“The destination has been deleted.”
Which… opened up yet another mystery. Kaneshiro had had a palace, unlike Kamoshida and Madarame, but someone had already stolen his heart or…
Today’s news flashed across his screen, the answer staring him in the face.
“Infamous crime lord Junya Kaneshiro dead in the latest Mental Shutdown”
Akira began looking into the Shutdowns in this reality only to find himself confused.
Kaneshiro wasn’t the only corrupt person that had fallen victim to the Black Mask, but it made no sense at all.
Akira knew Kaneshiro had been part of the Conspiracy, had been a close ally of Shido’s, and several of the men that had died were backers to Shido’s campaign… So why would Shido order Akechi to kill his own allies?
It made no sense at all, but he knew he couldn’t leave it at that.
And for good measure.
“Futaba Sakura.”
“No results found.”
He had figured that bit out himself, sure that without her mother’s death hanging over her she wouldn’t have fallen victim to her depression, and he had been right.
It really warmed his heart that his little sister would never have to face such an aggressive version of her mother, having to confront her own demons so thoroughly before she was ready.
“Kunikazu Okumura.
“No results found.”
Which meant he had also been right about his guess the other day, that Okumura was a better person in this world, and he could only hope that meant Haru was living an idyllic life without her father trying to force her around.
And while he wanted nothing more than to go and find Haru, spill his heart out to her and beg her to give him a chance, he wanted to get his Mask back first.
“Sae Niijima.”
“No results found.”
Did any of them have palaces in this world? Was he trapped in some paradise world akin to Maruki’s, where everyone was a good person?
What had the Outsider changed to make so many awful people perfectly fine people?
And now, the big one, Shid-
“Now boarding the train to Aoyama-Itchome. All aboard for Aoyama-Itchome.” The loudspeaker spoke out as Akira felt himself jolted into motion as the crowds pushed at him as he found himself packed into the train in a rush.
And as he stood there, looking out the window as he was packed in like a sardine, he wished Mona was there to whine about them not being able to read on the trip.
He couldn’t wait to see Morgana again.
Even if he refused to be called a cat.
Just like in the last timeline, it had begun to rain as he arrived in Aoyama-Itchome, though he had been smart enough to remember to bring an umbrella along, even though the forecasts had called for clear skies.
Now he found himself standing on the side of the road like before, waiting for history to repeat himself as he took notice of the hooded figure to his left.
Ann Takamaki was right there, alive and breathing, though unlike the first time, she didn’t pull her hood down.
And she wasn’t alone.
It took a second to connect the dots, but Shiho Suzui stood beside her, but not as he had ever seen her.
Rather than bandaged and meek, Shiho stood tall and strong, her gaze warm and her arm thrown around Ann’s shoulder as a smile came to Akira’s face.
He was glad they had found each other so early in this life, rather than after everything they had gone through.
Just as he was about to say something to them, to try and start up a friendship, a car pulled up in front of them, but not Kamoshida’s.
“Hi Daddy.” Ann said warmly as the familiar sight of James Takamaki leaned through the car window as Ann and Shiho climbed in, the car taking off just as quickly as it arrived as Akira was left alone in the rain.
And he found himself confused, which was now a common occurrence in this new world.
Ann’s parents traveled, but apparently not in this version of reality, as he would know Ann’s father anywhere after having apologized to them in person.
Shiho was drastically different, Kamoshida wasn’t grooming Ann, and he saw no sign of Ryuji running up and complaining of pervy teachers…
With an odd sense of disappointment, Akira started walking to school.
Alone, and with a wandering thought in his head, one that surprised even him.
He wondered if Arsène was okay, wherever he was.
“Good morning everyone. Today we have a new transfer student from Shishō Academy in Chi-Mura, please welcome Akira Kurusu.” Sada- Kawakami, he had to get used to calling her that again, as he realized that she wasn’t his favorite barista anymore.
She was the same overworked teacher he had met so long ago, and he felt how very little she cared, despite him having no criminal record this time around, it seems that Kawakami just didn’t care about a transfer student.
The class applauded politely which was an odd experience considering his class had always badmouthed him, so it was odd to feel a sense of respect from them.
Though Kagome Parn wasn’t clapping, she had always hated him anyway, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.
“It’s good to meet you all, I hope we all have a great year together.” He said with a charming smile that he had learned from Goro, the edges of the grin just slightly raised with the sides of the cheeks raised into dimples to give off that boyish charm while also displaying a calm energy.
Goro had been a severely twisted person, but he knew wonders about body language and had been eager to teach Akira as much as he had wanted to know.
The end of the world as they knew it had been around the corner, his former counselor now lord over all of reality, and yet the two of them sat together in Leblanc, and Goro taught him how to fake a smile.
It had honestly been the closest the two of them had ever been, only for reality to literally come along and ruin everything… and he was supposed to take his seat, but instead he was remembering Crow and making himself depressed all over again.
With a sigh he realized that the seat behind Ann was actually taken by a student that had normally sat on the other side of class, leaving him sitting next to a person that he didn’t recognize.
At all.
“Shujin’s going to hell.” The boy in front of him whispered back to him as Akira looked closer at him, something familiar about the dark haired student before him. “Get out while you can, before I have to write about your death.”
Akira couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not, but something told him it was, though his new classmate’s tone was deader than Yusuke’s on a bad day.
“What a lovely bit of advice, thank you.”
“It’s my job to tell the bad news, what else did you expect Kurusu?” The boy said with a scoff as he turned, and Akira should have probably been surprised that he was breaking dress code, but none of his friends had actually worn proper uniforms aside from Makoto.
“So you know me, but who are you?” Akira asked aloud as he honestly wanted to know, something about this guy bugging him as if he had met him before.
“Only the unluckiest bastard in Tokyo and the Editor of Shujin’s newspaper.” The boy said as he extended a hand to him, Akira shaking it with curiosity as he felt an energy growing within his heart. “Name’s Mishima.”
This cold and cynical boy was Yuuki Mishima? This was the man that would become his brother-in-law?
And yet, there was Lavenza’s voice in his head.
I am thou… Thou art I…
Thou hast rekindled a lost vow…
It shall birth new hope and create a hold on this reality.
A bond that breaketh Fate’s grip on the world.
With the rebirth of the Moon Arcana, you have obtained the strength that shall lead you to the end of this Game…
“But hey, if you like gossip, I got shit on everyone in this hellhole. You know Hino Takano? She’s pregnant and it’s Minami Kichiro’s, but don’t tell anyone yet. I wanna do an article on it first.”
This Mishima was going to be interesting...
Ann had bruises on her face, the hint of a black eye through her makeup as Akira studied her from across the room at lunch, his body mindlessly consuming the curry Wakaba packed for him as his mind whirred in an attempt to figure out what could have happened.
As well, he had learned that Kamoshida didn’t even work here. Apparently he had never chosen to retire from being a professional athlete, and had turned down the offer to teach at Shujin, which meant that the track team was never shut down and it explained why Ryuji’s posture was perfect.
So who the hell was beating Ann, and who did he have to kill to fix this?
Though it went against every instinct of his, he found himself living the day without a single sighting of Ryuji, a part of him wondering what he was supposed to be doing if Kamoshida wasn’t here?
Who’s palace would they awaken within, if not Kamoshida?
As the last bit of the day began to drain away, he debated the merits of just heading to Mementos and trying to coax himself into awakening, but when he did he just felt the empty outline that Arsène had left within him and decided against it.
It didn’t feel right, and the Mask he felt inside him was still transparent, it felt… wrong still.
So he began to walk out of the school gates, unaware that he was being watched.
Unknown to Akira, a man stood smiling in the shade, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched Kurusu walk off into the distance.
“And who might you be…?”
“Hey Aki, how was your first day at school?” Futaba asked him with a side glance from her laptop as he walked into the house, a part of him surprised to see her lounging on the couch rather than locked away in her room, though he did enjoy the smile that grew on his lips.
“My day was good kiddo, a bit boring though.” Akira said with a huff as he sat beside her, Futaba giving him an annoying glance as he caused her laptop to shake a little.
A part of him was kinda annoyed if he had to be honest, that instead of returning from Kamoshida’s palace with Ryuji, he was left clueless of what to do and what he should do.
When did the two become so very different things?
“You look sad. What’s the matter, no seats on the train?” Futaba said with far too much insight as he laid back on the couch, his eyes clutched closed tightly as he took another breath.
“I just… I just miss some old friends of mine, and my first day went a lot different than I expected…” Akira said softly as he remembered flashes of his friends, wondering if they would ever be all together as they were, or even if they were still the same people.
Ryuji was already different, and Haru’s father was a good man… How far had the changes spread, and was he going to be disappointed if they weren’t the friends he loved?
Could he learn to love strangers with his best friends’ faces?
He would certainly try.
“Aki, if I wanted to cry, I’d watch Phoenix Rangers Void.” Futaba said with a hint of sympathy as he just chucked, as even Phoenix Rangers reminded him of all he had lost.
Black Condor had sacrificed himself in the Void OVA, and it just so happened to be a coincidence that Black Condor had been so very similar to Akechi. Practically identical helmets, dark grey suits with black accents.
Hell, Black Condor had even ranted about justice before he died.
Akira really needed a therapist, but preferably not Maruki, though he had grown close to the man, he wasn’t sure if he could trust him.
“Well, this is my daily quota of conversation, good night Akira.” Futaba said with a tired smile as she collapsed on the couch beside him, her breathing already even as she fell into a deep sleep, a smile on his face as he watched her.
God, he wished he could sleep like that.
But now he needed to know something.
“Please enter a destination to begin navigation.”
He took a breath, hope in his heart as he hoped it wouldn’t be what he feared.
“Takuto Maruki.”
“Destination has been deleted.”
So… Maruki had developed a palace in this world, but someone else had stolen the treasure already? Maruki wasn’t dead, that much he knew since the man kept an active Twitter account and updated daily on his research.
Which meant someone else knew how to change a heart, and had already done so…
Not only did he have to find a Black Mask that wasn’t following Akechi’s MO, but now he had a proto-Phantom Thief running around that he knew nothing about.
And he still had to find a palace to awaken in, and somehow drag Ryuji along for the ride.
“Akira, let me sleep…” Futaba said wearily as she rolled over on the couch, Akira carefully draping a blanket over her as he smiled.
Only for the smile to vanish when his phone buzzed, the Metanav flashing.
“Destination has been deleted.”
The search bar read Akira Kurusu.
Did… did he have a palace? How was that even possible? Mona had said people with Personas couldn’t have palaces as they can’t have more than one shadow, so what happened to him…?
And who changed his heart?
A Visage Darkened:
24 Hours Earlier
The Shadow of Junya Kaneshiro was doing what he always did, bathing himself in waves of golden coins as he basked in the warmth of the metal, the glittering brilliance warming his rotten heart as he found himself at peace.
Oh he had fought hard to get here, his bank having drained so many idiots that he couldn’t even keep track, he was that good at his job.
Of course he had to dispose of the broken ATMs, for what use were they except to fill his pool with gold? There wasn’t any use.
There was a clicking sound then, one he didn’t recognize as his beady eyes opened slowly, the image of a pistol aiming right between his eyes.
“Wah, it’s… it’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one that got Koriome!” Kaneshiro stuttered out as he began to crawl away, the black clad figure merely following him slowly, his gun never wavering.
“I am the one who cleanses. You have distorted your heart, and destroyed so many others. Face your fate.” The figure said with a dark voice as the pistol’s barrel pressed firmly against the Shadow’s forehead, the visage of Kaneshiro sweating buckets as he looked up with desperation at the assassin.
“Please, I can get you anything. I got connections, anything you want, I can give you!” Kaneshiro yelled aloud as the Black Mask actually lowered his gun for a moment, his head tilted in confusion as he seemed to consider the offer.
Kaneshiro hoped he could make a deal out of this mess, even if it was just to buy time until he could call his guards.
“Anything that I want?” The Black Mask asked in a curious tone as Kaneshiro nodded furiously, willing to sacrifice even his own soul just to never have this dark bastard in his bank again.
“Anything, it’s yours.” With a growing smile, Kaneshiro figured he had this done and dry, that the Black Mask was a logical person, of course they could make a deal.
And then he was shot between the eyes, black blood flying as the bullet cleaved through his brain, the Shadow dying instantly as it dissolved into murky sludge.
In death, Kaneshiro served only to dirty his wealth. Truly, this was blood money.
“I want you dead.”
And another name was checked off the list.
On An Owl’s Wings:
Mikage-cho, 1996
The book, or compendium as Philemon had once called it, was interesting.
I wasn’t used to playing his role, but I was picking it up as I went along.
Creating Igor had been an oddly cathartic experience, having someone around that actually understood what I was supposed to do, and had good advice as well.
And with that done I found myself standing outside a high school with the compendium in hand, my latest objective highlighted in red as I scanned the grounds with a sharp eye.
“Find and Awaken the First Card. Bestow the gift.”
Going off of what Philemon had said before he left me in charge, and from what Igor had known, I was apparently looking for some kid that would be the first Wild Card, and I was to give him the ability to use a Persona.
Apparently people with strong wills could manifest a Persona, but I could just skip that and awaken them myself rather than wait for them to do it.
Only issue was that I had no idea what kind of person I was looking for, and was just left standing outside as I watched the crowds of students.
Fortunately I had used a Notice-Me-Not and they just flowed around me, not a single person wondering why an odd man was standing outside the school.
I still wasn’t used to the mask, the cowl of an owl shining in a brilliant light as I felt a cool embrace slip over me, and I recalled Igor’s explanation for it.
“The powers within you may not be your own, but it is child’s play to invoke it. There are many ways of reaching out to that power, and many methods, but I do have a suggestion Master.”
“I told you not to call me master, Igor.”
“”And I believe I told you I wanted a new suit Master, but we don’t all get what we desire.”
“Igor, get on with it.”
“I propose a mask. It can contain your energies and allow you to tap into the power Philemon passed onto you.”
“I’m not really a mask guy Igor…”
And yet, Igor had created a silver Owl mask and I got stuck wearing it.
Course I could take it off, but things of course got a bit complicated, a usual aspect of the Potter luck that had stuck around long after I stopped being a Potter.
All of my power had gotten funneled into the mask, not just Philemon’s power, and now I had to wear it at all times or make myself practically human without it.
“Who are you?”
A boy was standing beside me, his eyes scanning over me as I felt his curious gaze and I actually chuckled a little.
It was rare to find someone that could see through my Charms, but how rare it was.
“Would you believe I’m the Avatar of Death that was guilt tripped into being the living incarnate of the Hope of Humanity?” I said with a sloppy grin that I knew the kid couldn’t see, the mask covering all but the light of my eyes as I delighted myself in screwing with children.
“What?”
“Exactly.” I said as I held out one of Igor’s cards then, a blank figure on it as I twirled it between my fingers as the kid tried not to focus on it.
“Why… Why can’t they see you?”
“It’s because I’m not human, really quite simple.” I said in turn as my eyes turned a glimmering gold, the boy flinching back as I laughed, his earring shaking like crazy as his eyes went wide in shock.
“What… What do you want?”
“That’s the question I have for you buddy. Name’s Philemon, call me Phil.”
Welp, I’m pretty sure I found the Wild Card.
How do I awaken him though?
“So, do you like freeform jazz?”
Chapter 5: Two Fools of the Same Face
Summary:
A Mystery, told through the perspectives of two Fools
Chapter Text
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter V: Two Fools of the Same Face
April 14th, 2016
Days passed by in a daze, Akira surveying the school and Shibuya for some sign of a palace, of some way he could begin the Phantom Thieves while keeping things somewhat familiar to what he knew.
Today had been the day he and Ryuji had made a deal with Morgana, who had unknowingly become the founding members of the Phantom Thieves.
Now he found himself in a strangely different Shujin Academy, and something sinister moving through halls unseen.
Something odd and extremely worrying was going on, and Akira could only watch in horror as the world was twisted once more.
He couldn't pick up on exactly what it was at first, but something was deeply wrong at Shujin, on an entirely different level than Kamoshida had been.
Whereas Shujin had been full of fear during Kamoshida's time there, it was now filled with something akin to chaos as he almost saw the fright in the eyes of his classmates as they carefully avoided each other's gazes.
Also as if they were all afraid of each other, yet also lost in their own little worlds.
Akira got a good look at what was going on, but in a way that he wished that he hadn't.
A classmate of his, Ryoko Imada, had approached him at lunch with a shy smile on her face, and he had a pretty good idea of what was on her mind as he had known her before.
She had been in his class, and had quickly fallen in love with him, forcing him to reject her and leave her hating him.
He didn't enjoy being back in that situation.
He just smiled coyly and greeted her politely, hoping he wouldn't have to dash her hopes again, as only one girl rested on his mind and she hadn't even met him yet.
"Kurusu-kun, good to see you again!" Ryoko said as she blushed a little, the corners of her lips perked up in a cutesy smile, her chest pushed forward as Akira just sighed in exhaustion and irritation.
He was prepared to let her down gently, but before he could even speak, she seemed to change almost before his eyes, the smile falling like an anvil and a dark look to her eyes forming in an instant as her hands lashed out at him like talons.
He threw his arms forward in an attempt to block, only to stare in shock and pain as her fingernails sliced straight through the sleeves of his blazer, the material falling apart like paper as red began to drip free from the fabric.
At that, with his blood staining her sharpened finger tips, Ryoko began to clutch at her skull in pain as she screamed out in agony, the rest of the students completely ignoring her as they walked right past her agonized form.
"Why can't people just leave me alone?! I don't want to be here! I want to die!" Ryoko had screamed at him with clenched fists, all infatuation gone as she stormed out of the courtyard in a shakened rush, Akira clutching at his arms in pain as he wondered what the hell had just happened and how he was meant to help…
Something was affecting the students of Shujin, almost like a virus, passing from student to student and turning them from productive teens into rage filled monsters.
It reminded Akira strongly of Loki's Call of Chaos, yet this was the real world and oddly enough the effects weren't permanent like the Call of Chaos was, they only lasted a day.
But an insane mind for a single day can do quite a lot of damage, that he had learned the hard way…
But first he had to wrap his arms up and try to find a new blazer on short notice…
This day just kept getting worse.
After he had finished for the day, Akira had made to leave Shujin, only to stop on the backstreets when he saw two boys he remembered from his last life.
Hajime Kuwata and Yoshiro Ogura, two boys that had been in the study group Kawakami had set up in November last time around
They were first years, but sharp as knives and thick as thieves, having been best friends practically from birth.
Akira had thought they were brothers at first, this strong bond between them and a cloud of affection clear to see.
Now Yoshiro was on the ground unconscious and bloody, Hajime slamming his best friend's head into the metal gate of Shujin over and over again.
The other students seemed to not even notice as the blood began to pool under their feet, bloody footprints going ignored as everyone seemed far too busy to notice such savage suffering.
Something inside of Akira snapped as he saw the broken and deformed face of Yoshiro, dark blood pouring relentlessly from the boy's ruined nose and toothless jaw as people just walked past like it was an everyday occurrence.
"HEY! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Akira screamed out in outrage, a shadow seeming to fall on them as the sun began to dim for a moment, outraged that whatever had fallen upon Shujin would cause such blatant cruelty.
Akira would not stand for it, rushing forward and grabbing Hajime by the shoulder, the boy fighting against his grip as he kept trying to bludgeon Yoshiro.
Gritting his teeth, Akira tried to pull him off the younger boy, to no avail as Hajime seemed to have almost inhuman strength, throwing Akira backwards with ease.
"Hajime… this isn't you…" Akira managed to stutter out as he pulled himself slowly up from the ground, the crowd just parting around him as if he was nothing more than a lamp post.
At his words though, Hajime froze on the spot, his friend's broken head held firmly in his hands.
Hajime looked right at Akira, and his eyes were a shining red, like that of a horrible beast from some forgotten folklore.
However, the boy began to shake then, the vicious color in his eyes slowly bleeding away to their original haze and all the tension in his body vanishing into the wind.
Hajime looked around him, almost as if he wasn't sure where he was, and then laid eyes on Yoshiro's blood-soaked head still clenched tightly in his hands.
"What happened? What did I…" The glare of hatred seemed to fade from Hajime's eyes, horrified realization filling his face as he noticed Yoshiro for seemingly the first time, tears falling from Hajime like bullets as he clutched at his friend.
"Did… I did this, didn't I?! Oh god, Yoshi! I'm so sorry!" Hajime cried out in anguish as he tried to stem the blood flow from Yoshiro's face, the younger boy's eyes listless and despondent as Hajime tried anything to wake his friend, who only remained still and lifeless in his arms.
As the spell was seemingly broken over Hajime and the crowd around them, an ambulance was quickly called and Hajime was arrested for the assault and attempted murder of Yoshiro.
The entire time, Hajime swore he was innocent, saying that he would never have hurt Yoshiro, saying that it had to have been someone else.
Regardless, they still took Hajime into custody, not a word listened to with so many witnesses present who all claimed he was guilty.
It made the news by the end of the day, and Akira was left ignored and confused as he tried to protest that something was wrong, that Hajime wouldn't have tried to kill a boy that was his brother in all but blood.
But Akira had seen it first hand, and was left shocked and angry, clueless in what to do when he had never seen anything like this before except for when Yaldabaoth had taken power… but even Yaldabaoth hadn't turned people into monsters, preferring them meek and mindless.
Akira had come back expecting Kamoshida and his abuse, to aid Ann and Ryuji in getting their revenge on the man that had taken so much from them.
He had expected a rerun of the year, going back through what he remembered and trying to do things better this time.
But he hadn't expected this, an entirely new game where almost nothing was like it had been, and he was left adrift in a world he barely recognized.
This was worse than Kamoshida…
A Wild Card of a Different Deck:
The Fool Who Prospered
April 15th, 2016
"Senpai, do you have a moment?" Tadashi said then, the quiet of the room was disrupted as the older boy let his pen freeze on the line, his eyes looking up as the Treasurer approached him with a peculiar look to him.
Tadashi's hair was rumpled and disorderly, a scarlet stain evident on the collar of his blazer and what looked to be mud on the ends of his pants along with noticeable tears in both his blazer and sweater along with many other signs that something had indeed happened on his watch.
The collar of Tadashi's sweater was frayed, almost like it had been pulled harshly, the material being torn by the additional stress wearing it applied on the fabric. The fibers hung loosely which confirmed that it had been pulled in some force of conflict, the Shujin student emblem was completely warped by the ripped stitching and now looked more akin to a letter K, and the Shujin crest had been ripped off his blazer. Blood layered the base of the collar, easily connected as Tadashi's own as crimson droplets leaked from the side of his neck and matched the splash patterns on his collar, meaning Tadashi had been wounded in his rescue attempt.
Judging by the time and how lunch had not yet begun, an altercation had occurred on school grounds and Tadashi had been involved evidently by his state of distress, but was not the initial victim.
There was no blood under his nails, no bruised knuckles to be seen, and he winced slightly when walking, illustrating that he was injured besides the neck impact, and yet he had a proud tilt to his shoulders.
Hypothesis: A student, clearly a girl of first year, since Tadashi was proud of himself yet not gravely wounded, had been assaulted and Tadashi had interfered on her behalf.
The assailant was obviously more capable than Tadashi had expected, leading to a wounded leg, the minor laceration at his neck, and judging by how gently he took breath, at least two cracked ribs and untold injury to his lungs.
As well, judging by the ashamed nature of his glance, and his obvious reluctance to involve him, the assailant was female, likely another first year. Tadashi obviously felt ashamed at being hurt in the confrontation, but couldn't be blamed as the cut on his neck looked quite bad, though nothing life threatening.
Considering the likelihood of violence among the first year female students of Shujin being remarkably low, he assumed that this was another example of what he dubbed the "Hate Virus."
Cross-referencing the few first year girls that Tadashi would be in contact with, and willing to personally intervene on the behalf of, let alone rescue, it was simple to come to a valid conclusion.
Tadashi had gone to meet with his younger sister, Sumiko, and had found her in conflict with the assailant, and had decided to come to his sister's aid as would be expected.
The suspect was likely a classmate of Sumiko's, likely having a personal motive if not accounting for the Virus' invention of a possible motive in it's manufactured rage.
The virus itself was intriguing, as a toxicology report came back with nothing in their systems, and all symptoms vanished after twenty-four hours.
It behaved like a man-made virus, yet was unlike anything in the police database or anything his contacts had come across, and their web of information stretched extremely far.
It wasn't an injectable virus, as none of the previous aggressors had any evidence of puncture marks, which left it to either be a pathological device akin to mind control, or an airborne concoction that was completely undetectable and able to override the logical section of the brain and amplify baser instincts.
It turned petty squabbles into blood baths.
"I'm assuming Tadashi-san, that a classmate of your sister's went mad and attacked her, leading to you defending your sister from such a vicious assault." He said with a single glance to the younger boy, Tadashi's eyes just widening as he stepped farther into the room, a small smile forming on his face.
"I didn't even have to say it, you read it off my sweater, right?" Tadashi said with a smile as the Council President just stood, his own blazer hanging by the door as he felt it was a bit too warm in the Student Council-room, his eyes falling back on the stack of paperwork he had been stuck with.
Each and every student that was assaulted had contacted the Student Council for either guidance or support, but nothing could be done without his approval, which meant that he had to sign every single form of every single person that he wanted to help.
Which did wonders in cramping his hands.
"Actually it was your sweater, pants, your blazer, among other things. Everything about you screamed that you were involved and it was easy to piece together that it was the recent string of incidents to blame as almost anything that is happening lately seems to be because of this… hate virus, or whatever exactly is troubling the students of Shujin." The Council President said with a tired gaze as he looked out through the open door of the office, wondering what all he could even do here. He was desperately out of his element here, having to find an issue that he couldn't see nor explain.
For once in his life, he didn't have an answer.
But someone else might.
"Tadashi, I'm stepping out for a bit. If anyone is looking for me, tell them I'm busy." He said with a determined grin as he grabbed his blazer on the way out of the door, Tadashi just shook his head with a soft grin as his senpai walked out of the door, business all that was on his mind.
As usual.
If there was one thing he was, it was determined as hell.
As was so often said, only one man was unstoppable.
And his name was Goro Akechi.
Akira
"Mishima, good to see you." Akira said with a genuine smile as he cornered his classmate in the Journalism classroom, the other boy just getting an expectant look on his face as he set aside his laptop.
"Kurusu, let me take a wild guess friend. You're taken it upon yourself to investigate whatever the hell is happening this week in our school?" Mishima said with a cocky grin as Akira sat before him, the editor merely holding a folder up as Akira's eyes noticed the title printed on it.
"Hate virus?"
"Yes, you're not the only one that's interested in whatever this is. Those in the know are calling it the Hate Virus. However, if you want the info, you pay my usual rates. Information for information. Tell me something I don't know, and you have your file." Mishima said with a confident grin as Akira figured it'd be something like this, and he already had something perfect in mind.
"Suguru Kamoshida."
"The Olympic athlete? He's been on top of the world lately… so what do you got on him?" Mishima said with a very predatory look on his face, one akin to a cat eyeing the canary, and Akira only returned the smile.
While Kamoshida didn't have a palace in this world, he was still by no means a good person.
"Kamoshida became an Olympic mentor a year ago, and in that time he's raped four female athletes and put nine male ones in the hospital in 'accidents'. Look into a bank account in Taiwan, it's under a bank account in the name of Suri Kamoniti, and he uses it to pay their families off so they don't report him." Akira said swiftly as Mishima's eyes took on an evil glare, his grin growing wide enough that he swore it was going to devour his entire face.
That was actually something he had learned in his last life, as after Kamoshida had his heart changed and went to trial, he admitted to everything, including a bank account he had used to silence people before he retired. Then, it had only taken him confirming Kamoshida used the account in this world too, and giving a briefcase full of yen to a Yakuza dealer.
And that had been a surprise as well.
After finally opening the chest that Sojiro and he had found in Leblanc's attic, he found everything.
All the yen he had owned in his last life, every single piece of Metaverse equipment he had ever used, and oddly even the stuff he no longer had.
At the top of the chest had been a large spiked hammer, Imprisoned Mjolnir engraved into the metal, the leather of the handle worn from excessive use.
Except Ryuji had taken Mjolnir with him when he left Shibuya, Akira hadn't seen it since then, and yet now it was in the chest along with all the other weapons he had forged for his friends.
Paradise Lost R and The Tyrant were both in the box, along with every other Ultimate Weapon he had forged. Caroline had been amazed at their creation, insisting that such 'divine' weaponry had to be called Ultimate Weapons, as anything less would be a discredit.
He had collapsed into tears when he found Fleurs du Mal R within the box, the ribbons Haru had tied to the pommel of the axe still there. The red ribbon he had found in Shinjuku, and the pink ribbon that had belonged to her grandmother, tied together and mounted to the end of the axe.
Despite the fact that Paradise Lost was stronger, he knew that when he got his mask back, it was Fleurs du Mal he would wield, at least until he could give it back to who was meant to use it…
And he got off track yet again, and Mishima was just grinning far too evilly to be a respectable writer, though he could respect such a predatory view to one's work.
"I don't give up my sources, so I won't ask how the hell you learned that, but that is far juicier than I expected from you Kurusu…" Mishima said with a genuine smile then as he passed the folder along to him, his index finger pointed up then though. "Do you know Shiho Suzui? She is an oddity, figured I'd point you in her direction. She showed symptoms of the Hate Virus, but unlike everyone else, she didn't return to normal after a week. She's the exception."
Which gave him an angle to work this at, and he had a new lead to pursue now.
"Thanks Mishima."
"Don't mention it, Kurusu. This was a deal, no gratitude needed… but if you find anything else… delicious, then I will be more than glad to trade with you again." Mishima said as he held a hand out to him, Akira returned it with a happy grin as he realized this could become a very productive partnership.
"It's a deal."
I could almost feel my bond with Mishima growing.
The Moon: Rank 2
Goro
"Masami, I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Goro said with a charming grin as he stepped into the empty classroom, Masami Magatsu merely looking pleased to see him as he stood and stepped closer to the junior detective. .
"Ah, Akechi-kun, it's quite good to see you in my class again. How may I be of assistance to the magnificent Detective Prince?" Magatsu said with a sharp grin as Goro's gaze only darkened, having grown to hate that title, despite having worked so very hard to avoid it.
Goro had kept to the shadows in most of his cases, passing off the glory and pride to the other Detectives and officers, only to find a journalist in hiding when he had gone to report to his superior. From then on, everywhere he went he was considered an ace detective, despite not even having a badge yet.
"You know well that I hate that title Masami, why must you insist on using it?" Goro said with not even a hint of a smile then as the cover fell, Masami being one of the few teachers he was ever able to show his true self to, having known that he was conflicted by noticing how heavy his breathing patterns were.
From then on, Masami was his confidant at the school and the one he allowed to aid him on his cases, at least as much as a biology teacher could assist in criminal cases without breaking his confidentiality clause.
As well, Masami seemed to be one of the few people that truly understood him, Masami being his secret to closing many cases. The only condition Masami had given for his help was that his name was left out of everything. Cases, reports, documents, everything.
While Goro had initially found it suspicious, Masami was such a valuable friend of his that he would gladly overlook it, as he too understood the desire to avoid fame.
"Because it gets under your skin, little detective. Now, I'm assuming you're here about the toxicology report, or perhaps about what you suspect to be behind this calamity?" Masami said with an expectant grin as Goro nodded, the teacher turning towards the row of monitors next to the virology equipment, an image appearing on the screen.
"Now, while I didn't see anything on the report I did before, yesterday a student by the name of Hajime Kuwata was affected by the virus. Fortunately I was able to reach him before he was taken into custody, and I did find a trace of what we've been calling this virus, and I have learned much from it as well." Masami said as an image of a cellular structure appeared on the largest monitor, an oddly red tinge to the cells as they almost seemed to quiver.
"What did you find Masami?" Goro said as he noticed how the cells were almost morphing in shape, what appeared to be an extra membrane forming around the cell, like it was rapidly evolving.
He had never seen a virus like this before, and he didn't think the world had either.
This looked like a virus that had recently been created, one that was evolving.
"Well, firstly I learned that this is bad news Goro, like military grade confidential level bad. The closest thing I could call this is a smart virus, as this thing is not only designed to self-destruct in 24 hours, but it constantly evolves. From what I can see, it's effect increases with each day, as the cells have grown since yesterday. If I had to guess, with each day the virus grows more effective… It's almost like someone is testing it. I think someone is using Shujin as a staging ground for something, and whatever they're planning is bad, Goro. A single sample of this virus could destroy Japan, if not the world. Imagine what would happen if the U.S President got infected? Nuclear war would erupt within the hour." Masami explained to him the dark picture as he saw a graph listed on a monitor showing the students that they could count as being infected, along with a list of traits the virus showed and detailing the evolution of the sample.
"This is… this is a Manhattan level threat, isn't it?"
"Without a doubt."
With a breath, Goro asked a question he already knew the answer to.
"Can you synthesize a vaccine?"
"Not a chance. This is a complex formula Goro, hell I can't even tell what is in this, I wouldn't know where to start on reverse engineering it, let alone how long it would take." Masami said with an exhausted sigh as Goro noticed the bags under his eyes, and it was now clear to him that his partner hadn't slept at all that night, probably watching the evolution of the virus nonstop.
"Masami, get some sleep. I'm going to look into this, and if we can't vaccinate, we have to stop the spread. Who all was involved in Kuwata's incident? We have to isolate them." Goro said with a stern gaze as Masami grinned grimly.
"Now that's easier to manage. Only two students were in close contact with Hajime while he displayed signs of the virus. One is Yoshiro Ugura, his victim who is in intensive care and already isolated, and the student that tried to stop Hajime's rampage." Masami explained as Goro's interest peaked that someone had interfered, as all the accounts of previous infections mentioned that the other students almost seemed to ignore the conflict, almost like they could see it.
If he had to guess, there was a secondary virus that's sole purpose was to instill a misdirection factor into the students, or perhaps merely to ruin their sense of concentration.
Regardless, it was the lesser of the two viruses on his plate, so he focused on the Hate because it was far more dangerous than a virus that made people oblivious.
"Who stopped the fight?"
"The new transfer student, a second year student named Akira Kurusu."
Seems he had a new lead, and a person to watch out for, as well as to safeguard. .
If Kurusu was infected, then he was a threat.
And Goro Akechi could not allow another person to threaten Shujin Academy, even if he wasn't trying to or even wanted to.
Goro would protect his fellow students, Akira as well, even if it was from himself.
"Thanks for your help Masami." Goro said as he made his way to the door, Masami stopping him for a moment as an awful grin spread on the man's face, and Goro's blood ran cold.
"You have places to be Goro, as they say…" He said this every time Goro left for a case, and by now had grown to hate it unlike anything else.
"Don't you dare say it."
"The game is afoot."
Akira
It wasn't hard following Shiho without being noticed, as she seemed to have this odd air of confidence about her that he had never seen, her cruel eye scaring off any students that wanted to speak to her.
It was odd, watching her act like this, as it painfully reminded him of Kamoshida in all the worst ways, strutting around as if he was the king of Shujin.
Shiho was no better, pushing students around when she thought no one was watching, and he followed her all the way to Ann, his former friend sitting quietly by the front of the school.
"Ann, there you are, I've been looking all over for you!" Shiho said aloud as Ann almost seemed to flinch at the sound of her girlfriend's voice, and Akira instantly knew something was horribly wrong. Ann would talk to Shiho for hours as if she was the center of her world, like the sun revolved around Shiho Suzui.
So why on Earth did she look like Shiho coming closer was the worst thing that could have happened to her?
"S-shiho, I was going to head home soon…" Ann said quietly in a meek tone, her voice so low that Akira barely would have heard her if he wasn't straining his hearing.
"Without me? Ann, I thought we talked about this…" Shiho said as she stepped right up to Ann, her hand practically flying to Ann's chin as she forced the blond to look at her, her tone growing darker as a pit of despair began to grow in Akira's chest.
If Shiho had fallen prey to whatever this was, what hope was there to stop it, when one of the kindest people he had ever known fell victim to cruelty?
"S-shiho, it's just I'm really sore, and I was-"
"Those sound like excuses Ann." Shiho's eyes were cold then, promising punishment as Akira could barely hold himself back, a righteous fury growing in his heart as he burned inside when Ann flinched at her tone, her body cowering away from her girlfriend as if she was anticipating a punch.
"Shiho, it's not-"
And Shiho threw Akira for a loop, as she actually did punch her, Ann flying back against the wall as Shiho's fist almost left a dent in the side of her face, Ann completely knocked out as her head collided with the wall hard enough to shake the entire wall.
And yet through this all, not a single person paid attention aside from Akira.
"I've told you Ann, you're mine…" Shiho growled aloud as she kicked at Ann's still form, the blond only groaning in pain as Akira finally had enough, a feeling eating away at him as he swore his vision took a turn.
Where once was Shiho, now stood a paler version of her with golden eyes, a confused look on her face she said something silent.
And in a second, the Shiho so familiar looking to the one he had known was gone, and this horrid monster wearing her skin had returned.
As he marched over to Shiho, his fists clenched, he heard a voice within his mind that he never expected to hear again.
"Have you finally let go of your regret, regained your faith in your own justice?"
Yes, I'm sorry it took so long.
"Death awaits them all, do you understand that?"
If that is fact, then so be it may be, but I won't sit down and let it happen.
"Fate can not be averted."
Arsene's voice rang out in his mind, but different, more cynical and certainly not the voice of true rebellion. It instead sounded more like a victim of order, one that had given into the harshness of reality and refused to even attempt to change it.
And then, a new voice spoke instead, one Akira hadn't heard before, but one who's voice vibrated within his very soul as he found a warmth spreading through him that he hadn't expected.
"Trickery holds no value now, do you understand? You must be willing to destroy that which forms order in order to achieve a destiny far greater than the one set before you, do you understand?"
What am I meant to do? Who even are you?
"Your time is not yet here. This road diverges far later than the path you crossed before, but no less is the destination important. You alone may walk this road, see what lies at the end should you maintain your resolve."
What must I do?
"Stop the suffering of innocents, and refuse to accept fate's design. You now hold the key to averting true ruin, and I entrust you with the fate of humanity itself."
Who are you?
"Your true self, the one you ignored for far too long and replaced with a charlatan thief."
But, I'm not in the Metaverse, how is this happening?
"I am within you always, but the time to bear your mask is not just now. Do as those who came before you have done, and seek out the truth Akira Kurusu, no matter how difficult it may be to admit to yourself."
And with that, the voice was gone, and Akira found himself face to face with Shiho, who looked almost furious that he hadn't merely ignored her, that he looked down at Ann with care in his eyes when her eyes held none.
"You're Kurusu, if you know what's good for you, you'll forget about everything you just saw." She said with a dangerous glare in her eyes, her fists clenched as he could almost foresee that she would be completely willing to attack him, more than willing.
And yet, he could not allow her to keep doing this, virus or no virus.
It was time to prove the worth of his justice.
"Now you see, that's fair and all, but I'll tell you a bit about myself. I never know what's good for me."
And with that, he threw a punch at her face.
She threw one at his.
Everything went dark.
As he fell into a deep void, Akira swore he saw someone standing behind Shiho then, just for a split second.
A man in a dark red suit, dark and empty eyes and an equally hollow grin.
And a pair of red horns poking out through his skull, his visage all together bringing to mind the heart of a demon.
And it was then, that Akira's head hit the ground, that the creature waved at him.
He knew not it's name, but he knew the aura around it as well as his own name.
Arsène was truly gone, and this being had taken his place.
Goro
He had searched high and low across Shujin for Akira Kurusu, hoping he hadn't missed him, that the boy hadn't already gone home for the day and praying that the virus wouldn't spread even farther from Shujin.
He found not a single trace of him, only heard from some students that apparently Kurusu had taken a bad fall and had gone to see the nurse, the woman having stayed late to treat him.
Why on Earth he wasn't taken to a hospital, Goro couldn't understand since school was already out, and yet he still found himself headed to the Nurse's office, hoping that he would find the boy conscious and able to explain to him what exactly was going on.
Goro knew something wasn't right, and had looked into the details of the case again, and remembered what Masami had said.
That this was a horribly complex, smart virus, and that someone with experience had to have made it.
And wouldn't you know, Nurse Tae Takemi was not only a former doctor, but had been a researcher into experimental concoctions and serums.
She had apparently had her license revoked and her business closed after concerns raised about the ethical and moral complications involving her projects, and she had practically vanished before showing up at Shujin some months later as the new school nurse.
And Goro hated how convenient that was, that a pathological virus that amplifies hatred is unleashed on Shujin Academy, only months after a woman transfers from staff with a history of experimentation and medicine production.
As he neared the closed door, Goro steeled his nerves as he stopped before it, a familiar weight in his pocket finding it's way into his hand as he took a breath.
It had been a gift upon his introduction to the Junior Task Force, a specialty-made stun gun designed in the image of a handgun, the frame of it silver with scarlet detailing as he took in the fine engraving on the side in a brilliant gold.
He had hated it at first, as it had been a nickname that he had been mocked about ever since he was a child, but the name had grown on him over time, though he had found new heroes since then.
And yet, the name seemed to catch his eye as he reached for the door, almost like a reminder.
The Robin Hood
With a newfound strength, Goro quietly edged the door open as he stepped into the dark office, two figures evident in the darkness and easy to make out.
The image of Nurse Takemi was clear to see in the dim light, her form protective and yet sinister as she stood over who he could only assume was Akira Kurusu, the boy lying stock still on one of the cots and motionless.
Also clear to see was the vial of scarlet liquid she was pouring down his throat, the dark veins spreading across his skin like spiderwebs as Goro took a step into the room, his stun gun straightened and aimed as he cleared his throat dramatically.
She turned around suddenly, surprise and hate in her eyes as Takemi froze with the veil in hand.
Goro did so love to make an entrance.
"You have one hell of a bedside manner."
Chapter 6: The Fool Who Hungered
Summary:
As Akira Kurusu and Goro Akechi reach the beginning of a new Game, in the past another boy awakens to a truth of his own, and a Game that he too must play.
But what should happen if a Wild Card, a chosen of the Velvet Room, fell to despair?
What happens if the Fool should Hunger?
Notes:
This is the first part of the Persona 1 arc, which will run concurrently with the modern storyline. Each Persona game will be focused on in some regard.
Reminder, I have never played Persona 1 and likely never will.
In other news, I bought Strikers yesterday, so expect that to play into the story more later on.
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Hunger Arc: Part I
Chapter VI: The Fool Who Hungered
"Without independent corroboration, little can be done to tell a false memory from a true one."
-Elizabeth Loftus
1983-1996, Mikage-cho
Naoya Toudou was a regular, quiet city boy, one that would not normally stand out in a crowd as people tended to flow around him, like he was merely an unmoving blot in their world of ceaseless motion.
And yet he was far from what he seemed, and the boy so many saw was merely a mask that he wore proudly.
It hid him away as he watched the waves of innocents flow around him, glimmers of shadows merging and consuming their light as he watched patiently for the chaos to disband.
One who heard a man's voice when he made supposed friends, and a boy that couldn't understand what about him was so very different from everyone else, why when he made friends he felt only a hollowness in his chest rather than burning devotion and love.
Why was it that when he met a new acquaintance, his first thought was what they could do for him, and how far their usefulness would last before he would move onto the next friendly fool and end their pitiful show.
He had seen legions of apathetic doctors over the years, his mother having been quite concerned when Naoya had come home with a new friend almost every day, and the next she would get a call that Naoya had tricked them out of their allowance and had made off with their hard earned cash.
He had been punished, gone to therapy, taken medication, anything they thought would help correct the facade that he had become.
It wasn't that Naoya was evil, or even that he was greedy, he just didn't see people the same way others did.
He didn't see this world as hopeful and precious, couldn't understand why so many looked out with gullible eyes and far too much trust.
He didn't feel bonds in his heart the way he should, he knew that his falsified friendships were measured by use and potential rather than love or affection.
They called him a Sociopath.
He used people, tricked them into doing whatever he wanted or needed, like they were merely puppets on the strings of his fingertips.
They danced to his tune and showered him with adoration, all the while he watched them with a careful gaze and snipped their strings when they served their purpose or the show grew dull, a mound of broken puppets being his reputation as he trudged through discarded faces.
"Don't trust Toudou, he may act nice, but he'll take everything from you."
"That's Naoya Toudou over there. They call him the Puppet Master."
"He stole everything from us, please don't even look at him."
Naoya didn't want to do any of this, he didn't need or even want any of the things they gave him or that he took.
What use would he have for a rusted pocket watch that had been in a family for generations but held no real worth to any but those that treasured it?
But so long as they fell prey to his silver tongue, Naoya took and took all that they would give or could lose, and he didn't even understand why he did.
He gained nothing truly, and it filled nothing within him, yet the compulsion remained.
Every time he lured another sorry soul into his thrall, that same voice would always intrude in his thoughts, a man both furious and disappointed would speak.
He knew not the man’s name, but that voice always returned when Naoya flexed his control over the children around him, that harsh tone piercing through the twisted pride that Naoya felt each time.
Why must thou pervert the nature of this Game so
Why doth only hollow remnants remain of thine heart
So long as nothing rests in thou, never shall thou find the way out of this Game alive
He never could figure out why he heard such a voice, what the man meant by his disparaging comments, but Naoya found himself learning to ignore the disappointment of the stranger inside his own mind.
There was far more wrong with him than a voice that judged him so harshly, a judgmental conscious merely set dressing as horrors began to assault his feeble mind.
There was a hole within him, he knew that, a hollowness where his heart should be where all the good inside him was sucked away. He had always had that sludge within him, an orb of evil that drained away at his light and forced him into days of darkness as his hope began to fade with each tragedy he underwent.
It was like a vortex, or perhaps a black hole in his chest, everything being dragged down into the dark abyss within him until he didn't have to think about it anymore.
Until it was gone.
He did this for most of his life, believing that if people were foolish enough to fall prey to him, that they deserved it.
That the ruins he left of them had become a monument of his sickened pride.
Of course, he hadn't always been this way, hollow perhaps, but he hadn't explored the depths of his demented ideas or began to fool others until they fell under his will.
That came later.
He had been an innocent once, like those he ruined so often.
A boy with a loving mother and father, a twin brother that had practically been his other side, the compassion and warmth to Naoya's cynicism and coldness.
He felt no connection to who he used to be however, the ashes of his old self long buried under the flames of all he ruined.
And yet, his mind always trailed back to his brother, Kazuya, who's only sin was being born.
Whereas Kazuya had been the bright day and the shining beacon of their parent's eyes, Naoya had been the night that drifted in unawareness and laid a blanket of darkness down on all around it, but they never seemed to notice the shadows that he left in his wake.
Then Kazuya had died at the age of four, a predator having stolen him away from the school and vanished with him into the great beyond as none had an idea of what had truly happened that day.
They had searched for him for ages, only for his dead brother to show up outside the Mayor's office, his little body strung up from Mayor Miza's statue, the stone hand holding the noose that choked the life from Kazuya.
It had broken Naoya, the mental connection he shared with Kazuya having been frayed and torn as he felt only a void where his bright brother had shone in his heart.
His parents had been devastated, running out of words to say and with pain and agony in their eyes, tears never far from their gazes.
Madness began to bloom in his father's eyes, but Naoya had never noticed it in the grief he too suffered, nor did his mother care to notice in her denial.
As an Officer, Katsuro Toudou had demanded to be on the case of finding his son's murderer, only to be turned away and sent to dwell on his sorrow.
Police Chief Teruya had come to their home to deliver the news that Katsuro was too close emotionally to this case, a man that would only destroy the fragile justice they hoped for.
A loose cannon they couldn't afford, but not the scalpel they needed either, as they didn't trust his father to not get revenge with a pistol rather than a badge.
Naoya knew that his father would kill the man that took Kazuya from them, and honestly he would have as well, though he understood none of this at the time, merely being a traumatized child wondering when his brother was coming home.
It had only been years later that he had read through his father's journal and case files and learned everything that had been kept from him.
The night after his father was told to take time off to spend with his family, Katsuro Toudou vanished into the night just like Kazuya.
Six months.
They heard nothing from his father for six months, his mother trying to keep the faith that he was alive and Naoya having finally learned the truth that his twin brother wasn't ever coming home, that Kazuya was dead and never coming back.
His father was found at Nararoai, the district one over from them in Uramoto, his body cooling at the train station with a man standing over him with a blade soaked in his darkening blood.
Hisoka Shou had stayed there rambling and screaming, the man that had taken both Naoya's brother and father away from him, and had been arrested with such fury that one would assume he was a demon wearing a man's skin.
Naoya's father had been taken off the case, but had instead tracked down the killer himself, only to fall to the beast's hand just as Kazuya had.
Naoya and his mother had watched the news story in horror as he laid eyes on his father's slowly draining body, and the interrogation of Shou broke his mother so surely he would have thought her dead.
Perhaps it would have been better if she had died too, rather than hear those words come out of that creature's mouth.
"I got the wrong one."
"What did you say?"
"Kazuya Toudou. I had been watching that school for ages, waiting for a moment of weakness where he'd be alone. But he wasn't who I wanted. I didn't know there was a twin involved…"
"Are you saying-"
"I didn't want Kazuya, I wanted his brother Naoya. It was all a mix up. Naoya is special… it was always going to be him…"
Madoka Toudou broke inside that day, his mother going silent for the rest of the night and collapsing on her bed without any motion, Naoya having to cook for and feed his mother that night as she moved not an inch until long after the darkness had fallen.
He had worried for her, staying beside her and giving comfort as she finally fell asleep, his arms wrapped around her frozen body as he tried to give the warmth of his heart to repel the chill over her mind.
The next day his mother was gone before he woke up, a clattering from the kitchen drawing him awake as Naoya carefully made his way into the dining room like a mouse evading its warden.
His mother was in the kitchen cooking a widely spread breakfast, a bright sun dress on her like the ones she had worn before Kazuya's death, a light in her eyes that Naoya hadn't expected to be there or ever again.
He watched her pack a Bento full of his father's favorite foods, a scrap of paper reading his name on the case and a lovely little note written to his father.
But his father was dead, buried next to his brother, that box would never be opened.
Naoya accidentally made a sound then as he crept closer to read her careful handwriting, his mother turning on the spot with a wide smile that almost made Naoya think that everything was fine, that his father had just gone to the department early today and his brother would be down right after he changed.
That he had just imagined the last six months, all of it a nightmare in the careless mind of a child.
But then his mother spoke to him, and his heart plunged deeper into the dark as he realized what had happened to her, what their new normal would be from here on.
"Good morning Kazuya, how did you sleep?"
He put on a painful smile for her, and said he slept great.
From that day on, Naoya was dead in his mother's eyes, and he was Kazuya Toudou.
And it hurt every time she called him by his brother's name, but yet he still answered each and every time.
His heart had broken, just like her mind.
He found it easier to give in, and he had never understood his mother better than in that moment.
January 2nd, 1990
In the week after Naoya turned ten, his mother uprooted them and said they were moving to the Yazaki district, dragging him kicking and screaming all the while saying that his father had gotten a new job and thus they had to move to stay close to him.
Once again, Katsuro Toudou was a dead man and long buried, and yet Naoya was helpless to drag his mother out of her delusions. He would be transferring to a new school system, to Lunarvale Middle School where he would be expected to start all over from that old and familiar square one.
He was disappointed to leave after how much work he had put into his classmates and neighbors in Uramoto, but there were upsides, a silver lining hidden within the rotten flesh.
He wouldn't have a reputation in Yazaki at least, no whispers on the wind of people warning others about him, and he wouldn't have to visit his brother's grave every other day with his mother.
The grave she had had changed so it showed his real name, not his brother's, yet another monument to her delusions that he sadly couldn’t dispel.
He was one of the few people that could say they had visited their own grave, and he fell into despair or at least as close to what he felt it was, every single time he read the inscription.
It was wrong.
Naoya Toudou
December 24, 1979 -
April 14, 1983
Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.
Knowing that they would be leaving in the week, and that there was a good chance they would never come back here, Naoya asked his mother for a moment alone, her simply nodding as she stepped away and left him in the shadow his brother had left him.
From his pocket came a pocket knife he had swiped from a supposed friend of his, Naoya's quick hand making work of the gravestone as he felt it was only right.
Crossing over his own name, and in his shaky writing the tombstone was finally corrected and it was made clear what had really happened.
Reality laid bare, even if his mother hadn't learned to accept it just yet.
Only one name deserved to be here.
Kazuya Toudou
April 17th, 1990
Naoya hadn’t expected his life to take a drastic turn that day, the day he came home from his school to find his mother near comatose and despondent, a photo of his father beside her as he swore he saw a bit of reality return to her eyes, though she still said nothing as he called out to her.
Seeing that his words were impact-less, Naoya had left their house for the afternoon, finding himself wandering their new neighborhood and ending up at the saddest park he had ever seen.
Garbage littered the fields like stone as he trudged through the muck, the sign of the park long rusted over to the point that all he could read was the word ‘Park’, the playground more akin to a rusting skeleton than a place of joy and mirth.
And yet through the depressing gloom around him and the tattered remains of a once joyous place, he found a single girl seated at the swings, her eyes empty much like his mother’s as he drew closer, the white of her shirt standing out like a diamond in the grays and browns of the abandoned lot.
And yet, Naoya felt a tug within him, a feeling he had never quite felt before, but quite similar to when he heard the voice, the voice that spoke whenever he conned a new fool, or made up a plan for each of them.
This feeling was different, and he was almost thrown aloof as he swore the afternoon brightened around them, the girl’s empty eyes finding his as a small smile formed on her lips.
“Oh, I didn’t know anyone else came here anymore…” Her voice was delicate and soft, her lips parting like pink waves as he found himself drawing closer to her for a reason he couldn’t quite understand.
She was younger than him, and definitely wasn’t outgoing or strong, so why was she a magnet to whatever existed in his mind?
Why did this sad, empty girl call out to him?
Why was she a shining light in this dark desolation?
“I’ve never been here… something just told me to come here.” Naoya said with a shuddered breath as he scrutinized her with his eyes, trying to figure out why he was so drawn to this pathetic girl, the shaky breaths she took slowly coloring her situation in his gaze.
She was weak, fragile in health, and he could tell just from how she breathed as if every breath was a torturous experience.
And yet, as he sat on the barely hanging swing to her left, he found her looking at him as if he held the cure to whatever ailed her.
She looked at him with an undeserved hope, and it was burning him from the inside out.
Like a violent purge seeking to eject the beats that lie under his skin, her gentle voice a wicked blade carving away at the parasite that devoured his soul.
“You’re new, aren’t you…? Toudou-kun, right?” She whispered with a warmth growing in her cheeks as he found himself once more staring to the gravel below them, the shapes drifting as a sudden wind blew forth, her hair flying up in the breeze as his eyes fell slowly to her hairband in order to avoid the sight of her daunting eyes and what rested within them.
“Yeah, I’m Ka-Naoya. I’m Naoya Toudou.” He found himself answering, despite not knowing why he did it like that, a name spilling free that he had once abandoned.
Ever since his mother had given in, he had found it easier to pretend to be his brother, as the few times a teacher or friend called him Naoya to her face, she had panicked and threatened everyone around her including him and herself.
He had spent years calling himself by Kazuya’s name, wearing his face and living his life, but something inside of him broke clean at this girl’s eyes, telling him that his brother’s name was not the one to use here.
It told him that this girl needed help, and for once in his life, he would have to be Naoya to do it.
That a dead boy's name was not his to claim, but something within her tore away at him.
He had no idea why he even wanted to help such a sickly girl, one who seemed to have no worth to her, let alone any reason why he should even try.
She was pointless, a useless distraction, a broken pawn set aside to lure him to failure.
But as he sat there beside her in the destroyed ruins of innocence, he found himself a bit remorseful for once in his life, and wondering what would transpire if he opened up at least a little.
What if he wore his own face for a change, and not the mask forced on him?
“It’s good to meet you Naoya. My name’s Maki.”
And that voice was back, a dark man’s tone like he had heard so very often, but unlike before it held no bitter disappointment or rageful scorn.
It sounded almost pleased, like Naoya had finally done something worthy of celebrating, and had proven himself human enough to warrant praise.
Thou who hollowed thy soul to wear a mask that would never fit
Thou who have finally began to grasp the truth behind this Game
Thou who have taken the first step towards absolution and redemption
Seek the bonds that would renew thine soul.
Never again surrender thy heart to darkness
With the birth of the Priestess Arcana, thou have finally opened thine eyes
Embrace this strength, and see through the veil you have been buried in
And as the man’s voice faded away, a bit of light flooded Maki’s eyes as a violent cough overcame her, her frame shaking in pain as he found himself bracing her shoulder as he held her aloft.
For the first time in a long time, as he held this poor girl he barely knew… Naoya felt something.
He wasn’t sure what, but he liked the feeling she awoke in him, the light he swore was bleeding from his palms into the early glow of night.
Naoya smiled at her, and he found he enjoyed smiling.
And when she smiled back at him, pained and small, it still sparked a light within him.
But what did the voice mean, by the Priestess?
What had he found in this girl?
Maki Sonomura quickly became the closest thing that Naoya could call a friend, finding himself spending as much time with her as he could, an odd aura radiating from her as despite her poor conditions she still filled him with an odd vibrancy of hope.
And then her condition worsened, his friend vanishing from their shared haven in the wastelands of children’s past, and he found himself finally meeting her family.
Her mother Setsuko knew nothing of what was wrong with her daughter, merely telling him softly that Maki had always been a frail girl, even from birth. From the moment she opened her eyes to the world, she always balanced on the edge between life and the world beyond, and Naoya found it unfair that such a gentle soul would suffer so greatly with no sin warranting such treatment.
And as he watched her sleep, her eyes closed and her skin paler than even his, he felt another surge of emotion within him.
Without a word, Naoya departed the hospital with thoughts of Maki on his mind as he found himself drifting to the arcade nearby, a mob of fellow children covering his approach as the overwhelming sounds of joy drowned out his thoughts, his eyes falling on a young boy in the corner of the arcade.
A boy who stared at him with way too much understanding for a stranger, and a look in his eyes that Naoya knew would be in his as well.
“Why do you have that look in your eyes?” Naoya found himself asking the boy as he took a seat on the plush bench, the other boy merely grinning at him in turn, his eyes drawing focus to odd markings across his cheeks.
The boy looked like a character out of one of Kazuya’s old manga, mischievous and wild, yet there seemed to be a kindred soul hiding within the ruffled boy beside him.
“Because I know how you’re feeling. You’re Naoya, right? You’re friends with Maki.” The boy said with a knowing smile as a sad glance began to fall into his eyes, Naoya finding that look familiar as he absent-mindedly found himself wearing a similar one when Maki slept on through his visits, his friend slowly fading before his eyes.
This boy also cared for her.
“That’s correct. I’m assuming you’re also friends?” Naoya said with certainty then as the boy turned his eyes to Naoya, a lazy hand extended out to shake as a dark look entered his eyes like a downpour of unexpected rainfall.
“I’m Masao, and I’ll warn you right now Naoya, you’ll fall in love with Maki. And I won’t settle for competition.” Masao said with a friendly smirk replacing the predatory look that had lingered there before, all hints of a threat vanishing suddenly as Naoya almost felt whiplash from the boy’s sudden change in demeanor.
“I’m afraid I’m not looking for… love, or anything like that.” Naoya said coldly as he wondered why he didn’t merely leave the boy, but perhaps the fact that Masao also held a tie to Maki inside him held something of interest to Naoya.
He felt a reflection of himself shine over Masao, and he found himself greatly surprised as Masao laid an arm around his shoulders, a small grin forming as Naoya found himself growing weary of people forcing their way into his heart.
Yet he did not fight his way free from the boy's hold.
“Trust me, you won’t have a choice. But stick with me, I’m confident between my dazzling good looks and charming personality, and your… serial killer vibe, that we’ll manage to win her heart in no time.” Masao said with an honest look as an odd warmth filled Naoya as the two sat there in camaraderie, the lights on the machines beginning to dim as the other kids began to file out for the night, the exhausted old man at the counter changing the sign to closed with tired effort. Naoya found himself looking at Masao in confusion, the other boy flipping through personas so quickly that Naoya was struggling to keep up as the boy stood so suddenly and began to walk off.
“What about what you said before? No competition?”
Masao laughed then as the boys began to be shushed out of the arcade parlor, Naoya following his new friend, or whatever this boy was soon to become.
He felt that same warmth beginning to stir in him, and he knew what would come in the fateful moments to come.
“I figure it’s like this. Either you and I work together and share her love, or we risk destroying each other in the process. Better to work together, am I right?”
“Why are you so fixated on Maki? We’re ten.” Naoya said in observation as Masao guided them down Yazaki Crossing, the lights of the district lit up like a pinball machine as the glimmering scarlet fell upon them, their world bathed in neon.
“You’ll find Maki Sonomura has a knack for changing everything, Naoya.”
And with that, they fell into quiet companionship, and Naoya felt that perhaps Masao was right.
Maki did have this odd quality to her that reached out to the hearts of those around her.
And as Naoya thought about the sheer insanity of sharing a girl he barely knew with a boy that he had just met, all for some hilarious prediction that he would come to love her just as much as the boy before him… it was laughable.
But it made the feeling no less true, that familiar voice flooding his mind as Masao’s grin grew by a mile.
Thou who have taken the path towards absolution and redemption
Seek the bonds that would renew thine soul.
Never again surrender thy heart to darkness
With the birth of the Chariot Arcana, thou have finally opened thine eyes
Embrace this strength, and see through the veil you have been drowned in
And as he stood there basked in light with another friend by his side, Naoya found himself wondering what exactly he had walked into, what challenge would lie at his feet should he take another step forward.
He had wanted to run from his past, from his demons, and yet now he found himself confronting things he had never imagined he would.
His own humanity.
July 17th, 1996, Mikage-cho
The years flew by in a blink, or perhaps more accurately a cruel and miserable dream, Maki slowly fading into the night and Masao replacing the void Kazuya had left inside Naoya as he found himself surrounded by more and more people that stirred such odd feelings within him.
Naoya even finding himself with an actual group of friends, despite how impossible a concept he had once considered true friendship.
Kei Nanjo had found them not long after they started at Saint Hermelin, the boy drifting loose in the wind and adrift in a destiny he disdained.
Though the older boy tended to be a pompous ass, they found themselves shadowed by the boy so often that they practically adopted him.
Kei had quickly fallen in with them as an escape from expectations forced on the young man, a bright future far too dazzling for Kei as he had remarked to them once, the heir to the elusive Nanjo Group, an enterprise that his family hadn’t even created.
An empire formed of dreams and hopes of others that his family had claimed as their own, a conglomerate of stolen desires as they fueled their rise to royalty on the backs of those that fell before their twisted ambition.
Kei was the inheritor of a legacy that wasn’t his to claim, and it showed when the boy spoke often of his father, a wayward glance to the outside world much too similar to the way a songbird gazes out of its cage.
Kei was controlled by his family, but what remained of the manipulator within Naoya knew that Kei was not the pawn his family passed him off as, but a Bishop poised to change the tides, the pendulum of fate hanging over the boy as Naoya only found himself interested to see where Kei would fall when the scales finally broke.
Though he acted the pinnacle of precision and grace, Kei always seemed out of place, almost as if he wished he could drop everything and take their place on the edge of society, his gaze darkening whenever people’s eyes glued themselves to his form with either wanton greed or sinister desire.
Just as with Maki and Masao, Naoya found that Kei also held a tie to his heart, a bond that Naoya had researched and labored over.
For some reason the man within his mind had a fondness for the Tarot Decks of old, each person he forged such a bond with reflecting a Arcane face as each grew closer and closer to what he felt was a slowly igniting heart within him.
And despite that, Kei resembled nothing of the Arcana he was said to embody, an oddity as he seemed almost the opposite in many ways.
The man in his mind called Kei, the Hierophant, neither a guardian nor a mentor residing within Kei, but more a logical guidance echoing from the boy.
Naoya would often find himself confused and addled when Kei would throw off his expectations with ease, the boy changing faces so quickly that he might as well have been a shapeshifter at a masquerade.
The boy was elusive and ever changing, a mask on display over his features, the truth hidden beneath the painted visage.
It was a theme that they all embodied as each day seemed to trap them into a different and frightening world than the one they had fallen to rest in before, each of them losing parts of themselves.
Each bond he forged brewed new intrigue and yet sowed further discord within Naoya as he found his life becoming a disturbed and paralyzing series of dreams, or perhaps his reality had just turned to such strange shapes that it would be better thought of as fantasy.
And yet with the more friends that he made, the more Naoya found himself beginning to understand his complex fate, wondering who would be the next to steal their place within his soul.
And whether there was some truth to this Game he heard so often about, of what exactly he was meant to do, or what strategy to play in a game that eluded sense.
He would pierce the veil he had been warned of, that Naoya swore.
He would be blinded no longer.
In time another drew his way into Naoya’s heart, Hidehiko Uesugi, a boy that tired Naoya out every time they met with endless confusion. A boy with far too much hidden beneath the surface, that much Naoya could tell.
The other boy relied on cheap humor and horrific puns to endear himself to their friends, but it confused Naoya greatly as the boy would sometimes let his mask fall away, a different soul residing in that previously vibrant body.
The colored shards landed nowhere as they vanished in the winds, the true face of the boy revealed for a moment before the remnants would reform a new mask to obscure him once more.
When he first realized that Hidehiko would likely form a bond with him, Naoya took great care in trying to predict which card would represent the jokester, his mind faltering between Fool and Jester, and yet it had left Naoya dumbstruck when he ran into Hidehiko on a dark street one night.
The older boy was bruised and bloody, and yet there he sat on the curbside, his eyes adrift as scarlet ran below his sunglasses, his eyes just as clear to see through the tinted glass as Naoya felt a draw emitting from the comedian, an orbital aura that drew him further from the light.
“Who did this to you Hidehiko?” Naoya had asked at the time, Hidehiko not even glancing his way as a broken smile graced his usually jovial face, the pearly whites within staining crimson as the droplets began to leak ever down and stain more and more of the boy’s flesh a dark shade of concern.
“Have you ever heard the joke… Naoya, about the man who tried to defy God?”
A joke, but none like Hidehiko had ever told before, a meaning hanging over those words like the Blades of Damocles, a weight waiting to fall over them as Naoya swore he saw a flicker of golden light at the end of the street, the form of a common owl watching them closely as it almost seemed to vanish when Naoya looked closer at the unusual oddity.
“I can’t say I have, Brown.” The word was easy on his tongue, the nickname that Hidehiko had claimed so long ago was truer than his own name, and the rest had merely accepted the strange title and Hidehiko had worn it proudly for as long as they knew him.
And yet, something odd floated along the usual maniac energy of his latest friend, and it frightened Naoya in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.
“It’s a simple joke, Naoya. The man wants to be free, but God says that Fate has a role for him to play. The man pleads, he begs, and he even threatens God to overturn Fate itself, to allow him to be the exception to destiny, for he believes that he is a pitiful choice for one so chosen by Fate.” Brown said with a pained grin as Naoya found himself looking to the aged library across the way, Brown’s eyes trailing the dark letters in the windows as the shadows of world beyond their own lingered through the glass, silhouettes of creatures and heroes reflecting in the moonlight as Naoya saw now what majesty of darkness had caught his friend’s eye.
“God refused, and for his insolence, he struck the man down to the Earth, stripping him of free will and decreeing that the man WILL play his role, or all shall perish for his selfish desire.” It was then that the blood began to dull on Brown’s temple, the boy’s eyes falling closed as the scarlet painted his face like some arcane priest, an otherworldly presence falling over his usually animated friend.
Naoya had no idea what had happened, but the boy next to him bore no signs of the one he had met and grown to know so slightly.
“The joke is that you can’t fight Fate, Naoya. No matter how hard you push, no matter where you run, the book’s already written. We’re just lines on the page.”
With that, the moment of revelation fell away around him, and Hidehiko stood and began to strode off out of the light, the darkness swallowing his disturbed friend as Naoya remained seated on the rough stone, his fingers finding the pool of scarlet his friend had left. in passing.
Vibrant color in a world of dullness, a reminder of reality in this quickly growing enigma he found himself in.
And he heard the voice once again as he sat there, his friend’s blood staining his fingers as he watched his fingerprints seem to shimmer under the moonlight.
He felt alone in ways he couldn’t understand, yet every bond within him dug their claws into his heart, he felt a cold begin to settle where there should have been warmth and brotherhood.
Naoya was afraid as he sat there in shadow, the world bellowing over him all at once, the city beginning to die down around him and silence was all that was left to him.
Silence, aside from the voice of the man he knew in his dreams but never in his ears.
Seek the bonds that would renew thine soul.
Never again surrender thy heart to darkness
With the birth of the Justice Arcana, thou have finally opened thine eyes
Embrace this revelation, and wander not the hollow path ever again
Break this illusion, and see what truly lies in the yolk of thy heart
And with that, Naoya felt that same weight return, the shadow of it hanging over him as he stood and began to walk away from Scholar’s Square, the red still on his fingers as he tried to understand what he was meant to learn from all of this oddity and strife.
What Game he had been forced into, and what was truly hidden from him, one who thought himself the mastermind once upon a time… now lost in another’s game.
How fitting that this would be the fate forced on him, and despite the moral he had been taught, he longed to debate God himself.
Naoya would not step back into his brother’s place, would not wear that mask that his mother and so many others had expected.
He would see the truth.
Without consulting anyone, that night Naoya cut his hair in a wild and rugged style, one that the neat Kazuya would have never dreamed of, the boy wishing to kill off the afterimage he had lived for so long.
In time he found himself drifting to a meager pawn shop not far from his home, a lost and desolate place, with a kindly old woman within that greeted him with grace and charity despite the late hour.
Without a word she directed him to a small wooden shelf, glimmering jewels and trinkets catching the light as Naoya found his eyes not lingering on the gold and pearls, the woman knowing just what he needed to illuminate his soul.
No, a simple silver ring rested on the shelf, normal and dull… yet it held a vibrancy in its shine that spoke to him on a level akin to those bonded to him, an unrest within him as he bought the earring without delay.
The woman, kind as she was, even helped him pierce his ear, the ring hanging from its new home almost as if it had been made for him, a glistening treasure that blessed him with an odd sense of serenity.
A symbol of his unconventional rebellion, a sign that he would no longer wear his brother’s name, be the boy his mother forced him to be in her endless sorrow.
The son she had lost and had transformed him into, the life he was never meant to live, for that gift had belonged to another far more deserving than he.
He was Naoya Toudou, and he would never forsake his name again, that he swore so long as breath remained in his lungs, so long as a glimmer of hope burned in his chest when Maki smiled at him with her soft eyes, when Masao impacted some sagely wisdom that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a series of mistakes, when Brown confused him more than any other had before.
Naoya had started something, when he stepped into that playground, when he felt something form in his heart that wasn’t hate or malicious plots.
He found a newly forming humanity within himself, and he would not let it slip away from him again.
He would live for himself, and no other than those he chose to hold dear.
Naoya would follow the words he had heard so often, the guidance engraved in his bones, the words he knew so well by now.
He would not give into the darkness.
He knew what he was, the voice letting it slip once before, and Naoya had latched onto it with vigor, the title fitting him better than his name had ever done so.
He was the Wild Card, and he would win his game.
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter VII: A Rebellion Reborn
Façade of Judgement:
November 20th, 2016
The dim lights flickering overhead, the syringes that littered the floor shining like diamonds in the shaky focus of his waning eyes, his body hanging limp against the table as he rested his weight on it.
After all he had endured, Akira would take whatever comfort he could in such a dismal cage, let alone one he had allowed himself to walk into for a second time.
A clock was ticking somewhere, a loud intrusive sound, but it wasn’t right. Too frequent, too real, closer to a heartbeat than a clock’s hand, and yet Akira knew there was no clock in this room.
He had memorized every single inch of this room, there was never a clock, there was never a clock to make a noise to make him think about there never being a clock.
So what exactly had he fallen into this time? Considering he had been here before, he had left this room before, he had survived it despite all of the odds.
He couldn’t be here again, not returned to the cage of his torment, the room he saw in each of his nightmares and the image that haunted his waking hours long after they had ended.
His eyes rose from the sleek surface then, his eyes meeting the steely gaze of the one card he had kept tucked away, close to his vest and hidden from sight.
The one confidant that had managed to win him his game at the final hour, the one person that was able to turn the tide in their favor.
The one person that had managed to tie their plan together, to save his life when all but certain death was assured and the Phantom Thieves were at their most threatened.
The one that allowed a dead man to walk away and finish his game, to defy the consequences of his bet and wrestle a victory from Fate itself.
Prosecutor Sae Niijima had been his Ace-In-The-Hole, and yet he knew something was wrong here, as he could tell that the woman before him was not the Gambler of Fate he once had fought, nor was she the Defender of Justice that she would become.
It was all wrong, the glare in her eyes, the cold detachment that rested there, and the fact she looked as if she couldn't care less if he died today.
The fact that the Interrogation room door was wide open was another concerning feature of this place, and yet something within him told him that it still was not an escape from this place, nor had it been the first time.
He could see nothing beyond the door, a dark and threatening void leading to nowhere at all as he eyed the empty door frame with a paranoid glare.
Akira had no idea where he was, or what exactly was out there, but he knew nothing good would come from such a malevolent entrance.
His eyes hurt just from looking at this place, everything he could name in his body hurt, all the aches so very familiar as he spent so long recovering from each of them.
He knew his injuries better than his achievements.
The sting of the injections all along his arms and neck, the broken ribs ground to dust under an officer’s foot, the chip knocked clean from his perfect smile when he refused their questioning.
The blood clouding his vision from where they had swung the chair at him, his body barely blocking the blow as he lay there in agony, his hands feebly reaching out to stop the impact. The chair leg had connected with the corner of his face, the glasses his mother had once given him to help him look kinder, as was her loving dutiful way, now horribly crushed on the ground as plastic shards forced their way into his cheeks.
Akira remembered the words they said as they threw the chair aside, the first officer replacing it with his fist as Akira was lifted into the air, the man choking every single desperate gasp of breath out of him as he watched the boy struggle in his grasp.
But that was then, when he had been Joker, before everything.
He wasn’t Joker anymore, and this was not his interrogation.
A chill spread across his spine as Akira's eyes began to bleed under his very touch, visions of another room running through the scarlet rain as he saw glimpses of a white room, someone else standing where Sae now sat.
A world seeming to bleed into this one, reflections and shattered glimpses darting and shifting back and forth as the interrogation room and whatever that other place was, began to form and collide in ways he couldn’t handle as his mind began to bend.
With a hand to his temple, he barely noticed as his nose began to bleed as well, a stinging pain in his skull as he forced his battered eyes once more to Sae.
She was smiling, her usual stoic face replaced by the devilish one of her Shadow, only for the gold of her eyes to slowly drain away until his vision of Judgement returned fully.
And then it was gone, the world drifted to shades of gray and Sae's eyes drew him to attention, his body recoiling into position like a spring-loaded automaton, the edge of her fingers guiding his form like a conductor as he found himself swaying at her very breath, a bead of sweat dropping from his temple as her smile widened in an almost comical way.
"I see how it is… this is what the end of a hero of justice looks like? I expected more from you, Kurusu." Sae spoke coldly then, the False Igor never reaching such a level of disappointment as she did.
His body began to crack then with an otherworldly force, her fist clenching as he felt absolute and ultimate pressure piercing his mortal form, his very bones being ground by her ethereal touch.
"Sa-" Not a word could escape his lips as his jaw was forced shut, his teeth barely avoiding the tender flesh of his tongue as she merely shook a finger at his interruption.
"I still can’t believe it, that after all you went through, you would end up back here…" Sae said with a twisted sense of glee as Akira’s hands smashed down against the table, the handcuffs he had once been tormented with suddenly returned in a burning shade of gold as he found himself restrained and at her attention.
That smile confirmed that beyond any doubt, this was not Sae Niijima.
“I still haven’t asked you enough, but the time you have left is almost over, so one last question for the road… Joker? A suggestion, you could call it.” Sae said with a sharp flick of her tongue as the lights faded away around them, the table and room around them fading away as only a dark void around them remained, a noxious scarlet fog filling the abyss as he struggled to breath.
And yet, when she said that name, he felt something inside of him snap.
“I… am not Joker.” Akira managed to choke out as the fog began to fizzle away around him, a breath of fresh air assaulting him viciously as he felt a familiar warmth in his bones, yet it was not the embrace of the Pillager of Twilight at his side.
“Joker, Akira Kurusu, Trickster… Whatever you may call yourself now and forever, I propose a deal, you’re very familiar with them aren’t you? Everyone makes a deal with you after all.
The Broken Fool, the Demiurge, the Wayward Dreamer… all sought your wisdom and support, and yet all you refused…” Sae said with a coy smile then, a hint of the iron will he knew so very well from her, bleeding through this illusion of a disguise, for he knew it was no more than a mask.
This was not his attorney, no matter how well crafted an impersonation it was, it was nothing more than a mockery.
“You throw all of your cards away Kurusu, and yet you complain that you didn’t win the game? That you lost? How can you expect to win, when you throw away every route to victory?” She asked him carefully then as he felt the horrific pressure fade to an ache, his body released from its magical hold as he found himself dropped to the table that he couldn’t even see, his blood pooling around him and away into the inky space around them.
“That… that wasn’t winning…” He coughed out as he swore he felt a shifting feeling within his soul, something not quite right as he heard voices on the wind, a muttering of voices unfamiliar and yet all together soul stealing.
“If I chose… their way… There would be no…”
And with that, he found his strength failing him once more, his body collapsing on the table as he could only stare back at the scarlet vision of Sae, her pose reminiscent of a predator waiting for the game to end and her prey to expire.
“This deal will be the final one you receive, Kurusu. The last choice you will ever be given. Step through the door, and this all ends. No more suffering, no more impossible expectations. You can have everything you ever wanted, anything you could ever dream of. Just step through the door.”
The lights returned, the puzzling realm around them twisting and warping back into the interrogation room he knew in the darkest corners of his dreams, but there was a light on out in the hallway.
And the door was still open.
“I don’t believe you.”
Reality
April 15th, 2016
Goro
He was a little pleased he was right, that much he would admit as Tae Takemi turned to face him, an annoyed glint in her eyes as if he was nothing more than a fly bothering her.
And yet, he kept his aim firm and concise as he enjoyed the frustration in her gaze, though her small smirk started a worry within him.
Criminals didn’t often smile for no reason,
“Ah, the Detective Prince… I figured it’d be you that would find me out, I planned for this day.” Takemi said with a smile as she ran a hand along the cheek of Kurusu, the other boy beginning to shake in his sleep as Goro struggled not to be distracted.
The nurse had obviously drugged Kurusu with something, most likely either a new strain of the Hate Virus, or some other compound that Goro dearly hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with.
But his luck was never that good.
“I mean, it was honestly obvious.” Goro said with certainty as he began to step closer to Kurusu as Takemi moved towards the windows of the office, her attention firmly off Goro as he found himself wondering what her game was here.
“A new nurse transfers to Shujin Academy with a history of experimentation and drug development, and has a motive for revenge, and it just so happens that a new virus is released on the school that could have only been made by the nurse? You knew you’d be caught, so why do any of this to begin with Takemi? Why poison Shujin Academy?” Goro asked her with a side glance as he pressed his free palm against Kurusu’s chest, the other boy’s shaking calming for a moment as he focused on not letting his aim waver from Takemi’s back.
Steady breaths, though Kurusu had a rapid heart rate, and judging by the dark veins spreading across the boy’s skin, the virus was progressing at a dangerous rate.
Goro would have to either induce regurgitation to try and purge the virus from Kurusu’s system, or apprehend Takemi quickly enough that he could get the boy to Masami for treatment.
A live, viable sample of the virus would be just what they needed to synthesize an antidote.
“You may assume it’s some form of petty revenge. Maybe you think I hate someone here, but that isn’t the case at all Detective. I don’t care about a single brat at this school, you’re all just my little guinea pigs. You know, I was a famed researcher once. I was working on a serum that would eliminate anger, remove rage and hate from the Human equation. I was going to implement true, everlasting peace onto Mankind.” Takemi said then with a passionate tone as she turned to him once more, a bright glow coming over her eyes as he felt how important that dream must have meant to her, though he naturally questioned the ethics of such a drug.
If you were to forcibly remove an emotion, what sort of consequences would that entail? What effect would that even have on a person, if rage was removed?
“Someone didn’t want that, did they?” Goro said then with confidence as he stepped back from Kurusu, his aim steady as he once more trekked closer to Takemi, the woman merely meeting his gaze as equals as she sat at her desk with an ease that one wouldn’t expect.
From the relaxed look in her eyes, you would think they were merely friends meeting for a chat, not a Detective here to arrest her.
“Funny it should be you to ask me that. I have every right to kill you where you stand, and yet, a part of me says that wouldn’t be fair. You see, life is all a series of cause and effect, Akechi. You understand? Each action has a consequence. You were one such consequence, as am I. Your father made a decision, and it brought me right to you, almost poetic in a way.” Takemi said then as her gaze turned dangerous, a vial of scarlet liquid in her hand as she held it to the light, a chill going over Goro’s spine at the mention of his father.
He knew his father wasn’t a popular man, but never had he thought he would see an enemy of his so personally, let alone find himself facing one.
“Substance 44921.2. We called it Peacezium in the lab, and we were amazed at the potential of it. It completely and totally suppressed all feelings of frustration and hatred from a person’s mind. We tested it on a serial killer from America to great effect. He was a racist creature that killed with ease, and yet when we tested it on him, he treated the people he would have once killed to a steak dinner. It turned him into a completely different person…” Takemi explained then as the vial hit the light in such a way that he could almost see the cells moving through the serum, his gaze wary as he stepped closer to her, not liking what he was hearing.
While such a drug would be perfect for rehabilitation, he knew it was impossible.
You could suppress things in a person, but not completely change them in such a quick time, not without a catch.
“Why did you decide to reverse it, Takemi? Why ruin your life’s work, and instead bring to life a nightmare? Why, when you strove for peace, would you manufacture chaos?” Goro asked her as he found himself by her side, the woman not even flinching at the sight of the stun gun by her side, her focus solely on her concoction of misery.
“Your father shut down my research. He said it was too vulnerable to abuse and worried about the applications of removing other emotions… He worried what an absence of love would be.” Takemi said as she finally drew her eyes to him, a light shining in her eyes as if she had finally seen him for the first time, a feeling Goro that he didn’t know the name of, rising up inside him as he felt something akin to horror at such an idea.
If you removed the bonds of affection and love from people…
“He was right.” Goro said then, and meant it, as he had never been scared by just an idea before, but the idea of mothers choking their children to death flashed before his eyes.
What would a world without love look like? He didn’t want to know, didn't want to imagine it.
At that sentence though, Takemi’s eyes almost burned to flames as she threw herself at him in rage as he lunged to the side, the doctor going flying against the cabinets as Goro found himself slamming into one of the recovery cots.
He gave out a grunt of pain as he adjusted his eyes, his hands flying together to aim at Takemi’s battered form, his hesitation fading as he made to pull the trigger on her.
He’d drag her unconscious body to the station if he had to.
“I said… I planned for this… Detective.”
At that she stood, the screens behind her desk flashing to life as he noticed what seemed like vital signals of different people, some adults, some children.
Then he watched in horror as the screen zoomed out, and he saw what looked like statistics on thousands of different people, a red flag on each profile and the word ‘Infected’ labeled above them.
“You assumed the virus self-destructs, right? No… it just sleeps, deep inside. It waits, just like me. I’ll give you a choice here, Goro Akechi…” At that, Takemi dragged herself to her feet, her hair wild and crazed as she staggered over to her desk with a sickening grin on her lips.
“I built a small feature into the virus, virtually undetectable too… If I were to only activate a simple program, then each of those viruses would activate, and stay that way.”
Horror masked Goro’s face then as his aim fell and he found himself almost dropping the stun gun in shock, as he noticed some of the names on the screen.
Friends of his parents, family members, even people he knew from the station along with hundreds of his classmates.
She held the lives of almost everyone he knew, and thousands more, all in the palm of her hand.
“Your choice, Detective, is simple. I walk away, and I do this again someplace else, and you get to cure this strain of the virus. You get to be the big hero and forget about me, and you ignore when I do this again. It’ll be out of your jurisdiction, nice and far away, so much so you won’t even hear about it.” Takemi said with a stern face then, as he knew that if he took that deal, she would keep her word and abide by it.
He could tell just that much about her, that she would truly vanish, he would probably never find her again if she was truly this careful in her planning.
He probably only found her because she had planned all of this, this show was all for him, an orchestra of pain and cruelty composed in his honor.
And he felt a profound hatred for the woman before him.
“And the other choice?”
She smiled then, the vial of the virus coming into play once more as she twirled it between her fingers like it was a toy to be played with and not a fragile container of a horrible virus.
“You decide to be a fool and try to stop me. I kill all of those innocent people, and you fail your country, Akechi. You go home to your mommy and daddy, a failure who managed to catch the bad guy but let Tokyo’s youth die when he could have stopped it. You would doom this city, change it’s future forever all because you didn’t learn to walk away…”
At that, Takemi held the vial out to him, and he knew it would be a perfect sample to reverse engineer into an antidote. With a sample that plentiful, they could probably have a serum put together by tomorrow morning if not soon.
He and Masami could work throughout the night and synthesize an antidote in mere hours.
He could cure all of those people likely within the week, stop all the unnecessary death and pain her virus would bring, save all of them.
She had truly planned this out, and had trapped him right where she wanted him.
“If I accept, you stay as far as possible from here, I never hear a word about you ever again?” Goro said with hesitation then as he eyed the vial, his veins going cold as he thought about the choice before him and what it would mean for everyone.
He could save so many people, if he just let her go, he would be the hero again.
But he never wanted to be the hero, at least not for the fame. A hero would stop her, no matter the cost. A hero wouldn’t let her go just so she could do this all again, kill and torture innocents all over again. He would merely be dooming thousands of others just to try and inflate his fame and ego.
“You said you wanted to be a hero Go-chan… So, I talked to Director Mizuri, and you’ve been accepted into the Academy.”
“But… but I’m still in school!”
“And you can do the courses after school. Juri said that if you really apply yourself, you could make Junior Detective in a year or two.”
“You think I can do it, really?”
“Goro, I think you’ve always been meant to help people. Show them what a hero you are, do it for all of us.”
“Dad… thank you.”
With a breath, Goro Akechi knew what his answer would be.
“You would disappear, right?”
“That is correct, Detective.”
He raised The Robin Hood once more, a newfound energy in his eyes as Goro practically growled at her, the woman’s eyes returning his glare.
“Then I can’t afford to let you go. I won’t let you do this ever again.”
With that, Takemi merely smiled as Goro felt a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, his instincts screaming at him in panic as he felt something was dearly wrong.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
That wasn’t Takemi’s voice.
Goro turned slowly then, his fears realizing as he saw who now stood behind him.
Akira Kurusu had woken up, and judging by that grin and the blazing red eyes, a glare burning with hate and a twisted glee.
It was clear Kurusu wasn’t here right now, but the virus was.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day… Crow.”
Akira
“Believe what you want, Trickster… I don’t care what you believe in, all I want to know is what your answer is, and whether this ends the way either of us hopes.” Sae said with a sharp glance as Akira noticed almost what seemed like worry on her face, like she was afraid of something.
His eyes flickered to the open door, wondering if something lingered out in the hall, and whether this façade of Sae feared it to produce such worry that it pierced her mask of indifference.
Or perhaps, she feared his decision.
If so, that gave him a power in this place, and he would seize it with both hands.
“You want me to step through that door, I can tell. What is out there? What is this place, because it sure as hell isn’t the TMPD...” Akira said with a sniff as he wiped the blood from his face, his face stuck in a grimace as he saw a flicker go through her gaze, the edge of her focus straying away from him.
Perhaps he had picked up a bit more from Akechi than he would admit, but Akira had always felt he would make a good detective.
“You’re more perceptive than you were before, where did that keen eye go when your friends needed it, I wonder? Regardless, it does not matter one bit. You refuse, I assume?” Sae said with a raised brow as something familiar came over Akira, and he had a moment of realization then as he saw a glint of gold in her eyes, and he remembered.
And he finally put it together.
The hollow space within his chest, why this all felt so very familiar, why this imposter knew so very much about him and his most personal thoughts.
Why this all felt so wrong.
“This is my Palace, and you…” At that, Akira’s eyes began to glow with a crimson shine, Sae’s body freezing as he held his hand aloft, that same energy building within him as he felt a breath of life course through his body.
“Show me your true form.”
Sae almost seemed to malfunction then, her eyes shocked as she began to flicker and shift before his very eyes, the Shadow morphing as he ripped its mask away from it.
And a familiar face replaced hers, golden eyes shining back at him, a twisted mask scarring the pale skin he knew so well.
He wore the Joker’s coat, though in a far more gothic style, a pendant hanging from his neck that gave off a terrible feeling of wrongness within him just at the sight of it.
And the mask, a demented bastardization of the one he had once worn, darkness surrounding the hidden eye as he saw only madness within the shining orbs.
Akira was staring at his Other self, his own Shadow.
“We were always smarter than the others. I always said we could have done more with that brain, than play Phoenix Rangers with those idiots.” His Shadow said in a harsh, snide way that Akira never imagined he could sound, the imposter relaxing in his seat as he even stretched in place, a calm and composed smile falling into place.
“Man, wearing Sae was so uncomfortable, but it got us here, so she had some use in the end. About that deal of ours?”
Despite the proud look on his Shadow’s face, Akira knew that he held the true power here, the deck was stacked in his favor and he would take full advantage.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? My sense of Rebellion is returning, and that scares you, doesn’t it? If I walk through the door, my Palace returns and you return to power. You fear being turned back into a Persona, you don’t want to fight.” Akira said with a confident smirk as he stared at his shadow, his Other being thrown off guard as sudden rage set in, the Interrogation room shaking violently as the lights burnt out of their sockets and only an alarming red light filled the room.
“And you should know better than anyone that you want your Palace as well. I can step down, you can run the show in here, anything you want can happen. You and Haru can raise little Ren here, Ann and Shiho can have the life together they always dreamed of, and the Phantom Thieves never have to split up. You can all be heroes again, and you can train your son to be one as well. Don’t you want to see your son inherit your mask? To see the man he’ll become? I can give you all of that Akira, if you simply give in and accept your Palace.” His Shadow said with a small smile then as the walls of the room began to change, images flashing across them like a projector as Akira saw the life that was on offer, the life he had always dreamt of and wished for.
The life he never thought he could have.
An older Haru, swollen and full of life as she held little Ren in her arms, Akira holding her from behind as the two looked down upon their son, another child on the way as Akira placed a kiss at the edge of his wife’s neck.
Even then, she was still as beautiful as the day he had met her, and he longed to see the mother she would have been, to see their children with his own eyes.
He saw Ann and Shiho, both beginning to grey as they stood outside a modeling studio, the two of them walking with two young girls who seemed to be their entire world, the two of them smiling and laughing over something he couldn’t hear as one of the girls threw her arms around Ann’s legs.
And finally he saw all of them, their masks in place as they stood within a brightened version of Mementos, what could only be their grown children by their side, two generations of Phantom Thieves working together to patrol the Metaverse and protect society.
A legacy left for the next team of Thieves, masks passed from parents to their children.
And it would all be fake, even more so than Maruki’s reality would have been, as this would all only exist within his own mind.
He couldn’t bury himself in a delusion, as he would never step back into a lie, not so long as he took breath, so long as a spark of rebellion rested in his soul.
“What do you say, my Other? Will you allow yourself to be happy?”
And that was always the question, wasn’t it?
He was a slave, but would he take emancipation? Would he break his shackles and allow himself to escape the game, once and for all?
“My life isn’t mine to choose. Each of my bonds, the chains on my heart. I fought for them, I forged each and every link holding me down. I have a responsibility to each of them, one that you can’t simply erase. I don’t get to choose to be happy, not until I make sure they are.” Akira said with a true smile then as he felt his bruises and the pain begin to fade, his handcuffs vanishing into golden ash as he stood from the table, and his shadow found himself trapped there instead.
“Akira… Think this through, you won’t have a second chance here…” His shadow said with a sudden desperation as Akira just laughed in turn as he began to move towards him.
Akira began to drag the chair his shadow was bound to, the door being his goal as he dragged his shadow closer and closer to the edge of this reality.
Only to find himself blocked, a figure standing in the doorway and blocking his path, one that he had dearly hoped wouldn’t walk through.
But it appears that history would be doomed to repeat itself.
The man walked into the room casually, the suitcase being laid on the table as he turned to them with a smirk, one that Akira truly hated.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”
Goro Akechi, the Black Mask, had walked into the room.
Goro
Kurusu stood there, his eyes crazed and shining as he smiled a hellish grin at him, Goro’s face falling as he found himself facing off against the teen he had come here to save.
And a new addition that he hadn’t seen before, a silenced service pistol in Kurusu’s hand, one that would ensure no one would come to investigate… no one would find Goro’s body here.
“Do you like it? My Mistress got it from one of your buddies on the force, and I’m so glad she did. It’s fitting that I use this gun on you, Crow. It’s the wrong room, but all of this… You and I, a gun for good measure, it’s so very poetic.” Kurusu said with a childish glee as he stepped closer in precise movements, the pistol aimed high as Goro calculated exactly where the impact point would be if the gun fired, along with the likelihood of a gun jam, and what his odds of survival would be.
Overall, the odds were against him, in almost every regard.
As well, he had no earthly idea what Kurusu was talking about, or why he was calling him a bird, as he had never met the other boy before.
Yet, someone stirred inside of Goro when Kurusu said that word.
When Akira said Crow, something inside Goro responded, and it confused the hell out of him.
Did he know Kurusu somehow? And why did he feel lik-
“Then… perhaps ‘Karasu’ will be best for me. You know, like a raven.”
“What, are your clothes all black or something?”
“No, I got the perfect name. Crow. Your eyes are better than all of ours, and you like shiny things.”
“Really, that’s your best argument for the name? And what do you mean, I like shiny things?”
“Well, his briefcase is really shiny…”
Goro found himself taking gasping breaths as he heard voices within his mind, so familiar and yet they were tearing him apart from the inside out, those voices… that name… What did he know?
Did he forget something?
“What’s wrong, Crow? Feeling a bit woozy? I felt that way too, when you stepped into the room. I felt betrayed, to be honest, even though I saw it coming a mile away… I felt betrayed, that you would sacrifice everyone, all for nothing…” Kurusu said with a melancholy glint to his eyes then as he stepped closer, the pistol never wavering from Goro’s head as the detective tried to quell the rampaging thoughts consuming his mind.
Neither even noticed as Tae Takemi walked clean out of the room, a smile on her lips as the two boys stared right at each other, a meeting of equals in an unlikely place.
“I… betrayed no one… Why do you call me… Crow?” Goro asked through gritted teeth as he pulled himself back to his feet, the Robin Hood feeling like a boulder in his hand as he slowly raised it to face off against his fellow student, an otherworldly exhaustion falling over him as he struggled just to keep awake.
“Because no matter how much you refuse it, how much you hate it, it’ll always be the name written deep inside you, Crow. No matter how many deaths, how many realities, that name will always stick with you.” Kurusu said with a dark whisper as he stepped closer then, the pistol being lifted a final time as he stood right before Goro then, the barrel resting right against his forehead as Goro felt the cold of the steel pierce through the veil of pain and confusion.
“You’re speaking… nonsense. I’m not… I’m…” Goro tried to fight back against it all, only to find something slowly breaking apart within him as he felt an odd sense of clarity fall over him, his eyes softening as he looked past Kur-Akira.
“You won’t shoot me.” He said with confidence then as Akira’s eyes bulged, a shocked look on his face as he began to laugh aloud, the boy’s grin ripping his face apart as he eyed the detective with a twisted glee.
“You know nothing about me, Crow, and yet I know so much about you… But I believe we’ve reached the end of this game of ours.
What was it you said, once before? You said it so strongly, so… passionately…”
Goro took a breath then as he smiled a sad grin, ready to see if he was right, one last time.
If his gamble would pay off.
“Oh yes, how could I forget… Case closed... This is how your justice ends.”
And Kurusu pulled the trigger.
Akira
"What a fortunate turn of events, the two of us reunited like this. I must say, I did miss you, Joker." His cognition of Goro Akechi said with a sharp smile as he strolled into the interrogation room, Akira's Shadow relaxing in an instance as Akira found himself facing not just one, but two demons of his past.
"I'm not Joker, not anymore." Akira said with fierce resolve as his shadow merely laughed at him in turn.
"Oh, he was talking to me. After all, I am Joker. You're just an afterthought Trickster, what remains of who I used to be."
With that, the handcuffs broke around his shadow's wrists as his other self stood, the shadow and cognition standing side by side as they both turned their attention to him, a single entity designed to destroy his rebellion.
"Now then, Kurusu, you no longer have a choice. Walk into the hall, and embrace your Palace, or you will die in it." Cognitive Akechi said with a harsh edge as he pulled free from his coat a silenced pistol, the same model he had used in this room before, the model that had featured so strongly in Akira's nightmares in the weeks after.
"I won't do it. I won't accept any of this." Akira said with a cold eye then as he stood before the both of them, that familiar energy building up inside him as he felt the outlines of his mask begin to form, the familiar weight falling on his nose as he felt a presence by his side that he knew was his new self.
"I won't give in."
With that, the eyes of his shadow burned into flame as his form shifted and warped, a twisted creature taking it's place and roaring in rage.
It looked like Arsène, but like the Pillager had been tortured in Hell's darkest dungeons for eons, ruined and corrupted by a hellish influence.
Demonic horns and wings ripped through Arsène's pale and ruined flesh, scars and chains littering his form as the Shadow stepped into the light, a living effigy of pain and suffering made manifest.
It's eyes blazed with unholy hellfire as Akira found a black, threadbare coat forming on his shoulders, though no more of an ensemble appeared on him, his mask still just out of reach.
But something else did come to him, a flash of golden light blinding him as a familiar shape formed in his hands.
Fleurs du Mal R, the battle-axe he had forged for Haru, and the one he had reclaimed until she could wield it once more.
And now it had come to him in his moment of need, and he would not allow this specter of his heart to ruin his last chance at salvation.
He would not fall here, he would not surrender, as he faced off against not only the phantom of his once enemy, but a twisted reflection of himself.
And he was ready for them, the axe raised aloft as he saw his own eyes reflected in the blade, and his soul roared with righteous energy as he charged towards his Shadow with a war cry composed of every single emotion that was warring within him.
In that moment, with his mask blinking into life around him, every part of Akira Kurusu was in sync.
He had finally reclaimed his spirit of rebellion.
"It's showtime!"
Akira had wondered how fighting his own Shadow would be, but it was as if his Shadow has defaulted to the command of the cognition of his once enemy, Akechi commanding Arsène like a puppet master with strings, the shadow falling into line as the Black Mask fell into place around the cognition.
The familiar beaked helmet and scarlet eyes lit up Akira's sight as he held the axe aloft, the metal reflecting yet another blast of energy as this horrid specter of his former Persona relentlessly surged onward.
"Eigaon!" The Black Mask cried out yet again as Akira found himself diving out of the way of the curse, the edge of his coat catching the dark flames and causing an embrace of heat to wash over him in a hellish blaze.
"You're so persistent Kurusu, do you really think you can escape? You made this place, it knows everything about you, including how to keep you contained." The Black Mask laughed out maliciously, Akira hurrying to beat out the flames on his form, his skin charred and cracked as he felt the toll this assault was playing on his body.
Less than half of his health points remained, if he had to take a guess, but without a Navigator he couldn't be sure exactly how much fight was left in him.
All he could do was swing and strike at them until he couldn't anymore, his resolve fully absolute as he made a promise to himself then.
That he would die in his own Palace before he would allow his desires to be distorted again, destroy his Shadow before he would allow it to control him again.
"It is funny, I never expected your own Shadow to be so very helpful, nor for it to take such an interesting form. A dark reflection of all that you stood for, a demon that desires death, rather than a thief that strives for justice.
"Magatsu-Arsène, the Pillager of Calamity. What interesting creatures rest in your soul, Kurusu..." The Black Mask said with a sharp grimace as the insectoid eyes of Arsène began to glow a threatening red, and Akira realized no longer was the Pillager a reflection of himself, for even he had fallen to corruption.
"That beast is not me, just a shadow twisted into a joke. You are not me!" Akira called out in outrage as he ducked under the next curse, the edge of the axe coming forth and biting into Magatsu-Arsène's rancid flesh with a splash of red, the twisted Pillager merely growling in pain as it's former master fought against it for dominance.
"Once there was a time that those words would doom you, the point of no return. Now, there is no point in refusing the truth Kurusu. You are the embodiment of your pain, you are the Composer of Suffering. You doomed each of your friends to suffer, just as Magatsu-Arsène shall doom the world. We've reached the end of this game, you and I." The Black Mask waxed poetic as Akira kept on the move, a barrage of curses striking the ground behind him like gunfire as he barely avoided them, his breath caught in his throat as no matter where he went, the unending assault continued.
And then Akira tripped, stopped for just a moment, took a breath that lasted a second too long.
And a storm of curses slammed into his chest, burning red spears of shadow impaled in his flesh as he felt his body begin to shut down and blood seep forward.
A darkness was setting in, as Magatsu-Arsène vanished into a dark mask held by his enemy, the Black Mask just stepping closer with a grin on his sharp lips as he did.
The Cognition just threw the mask aside, the last remnant of Arsène abandoned to the shadows as the Black Mask thrust a hand into his armor, and pulled out a familiar pistol.
A Silenced Service 1911, the same model Goro Akechi had used to kill Kunikazu Okumura, and had used when he attempted to kill him before.
And once again, history repeated itself.
Akira, trapped and exhausted, his mask broken at his side as he was left to the mercy of the traitor.
The Black Mask, proud and vile, a gun to Akira's hand and just waiting to be fired.
There would be no miraculous escape here, there was no master plan that would allow him to walk away while leaving his enemy oblivious.
And the Black Mask knew that.
"I said it before, back when you played such a childish trick on me, and I'll say it again Kurusu."
Akira looked up then, his bleeding eyes locking onto the Black Mask's blood colored ones, and he knew that the game was over.
"I had thought it so fitting at the time, and it fits even better here and now. Goodbye Kurusu, this is how your justice ends.”
Akira's eyes fell closed then as he felt the press of the steel against his forehead, his thoughts far and distant as he let out a desperate prayer.
And the Black Mask pulled the trigger.
At the same time that both Wild Cards were set to meet their ends at each other's hands, two bullets of great importance in two separate realities.
Both fools came to the same realization.
That one can not change the world if they are dead, and that rebellion…
Rebellion is eternal.
Will you really allow your second chance to pass you by like that, alone and frightened?
You who have surpassed all expectations, who thrived by proving the impossible, are willing to concede defeat to such a poor demise?
"No."
All that remains is your will, all else has been stripped away in your rebirth, is your will alone enough to drive you onward? To win this game? Do you believe you have the strength to temper through the flames?
The pursuit of knowledge, of the truth, is a noble one that you have sought since you could walk. Is the path of the righteous hero worth sacrificing your own life? Is the right thing more important than you are?
"Yes."
Your will alone is enough, is that correct? Would you stare down tyrants and gods with just a steely gaze, expecting them to fall before you with the slightest effort? Reality is not so fortunate, but you know that already, as you chose for it to be this way.
Are you prepared for the trial you shall undertake? For the pain you will no doubt find?
You would sacrifice yourself, for the sake of everyone else, even people you have never and will never meet? Why must your soul hang in the balance to save all of theirs, why must your mind be the only one capable of seeing the obvious and righting such a grievous wrong?
You would really give up everything, just to save people that will never thank you?
"Yes."
Then your will and desire for justice truly is greater than I had foreseen.
I offer you this contract Trickster, to aid and guide you through this new game of yours, and to reach the conclusion you so dearly seek.
You were cheated of my aid once before, but never again.
I shall be the wings at your back, the fire beneath your eyes as we strike out at Fate itself, our game our own.
Do you bind yourself by these words, pledge yourself to this oath, forevermore?
You truly see such little worth in yourself? I guess you really are a hero, albeit a foolish one.
Nevertheless, I shall allow your suicidal antics, and pledge to you a contract for my services.
I shall be the eyes you never knew you were missing, the vision and truth to guide you through the gloom.
Never again will you be in the dark, kept numb and dull to the truth, unaware of who is really watching you.
Do you bind yourself by these words, pledge yourself to this oath, forevermore?
Yes.
Then the contract is struck, and you shall know power beyond your understanding, and the chance to force Fate itself to bend to your wills, to truly avert the coming ruin.
The truth will set you free of your heartache, and you will triumph over this unjust game.
Reach out, and embrace this feeling, for it will serve you well.
Take hold of it, and awaken.
Just as the barrels ignited, and both Akira Kurusu and Goro Akechi should have died, reality shuddered and came to a crawl, a burning fire igniting inside both of them as they screamed into the face of Death itself.
And despite the fact that the Detective still lingered in reality, the lines between worlds were far weaker than they should have been.
A mask now graced his face, sharp and elegant, a white beacon illuminated by his crimson eyes.
Another rested on his counterpart's face, Akira finding himself with a darkened mask of ill intent, a cold storm billowing behind him as the very nature of his Palace began to freeze over.
Even the whites of his eyes were left shadowed by the darkness surrounding them, a never endung void trapped on his face.
As one, they both found themselves taking a hold of their masks, both of then overcome with a primal and painful desire to tear it away.
And so they did, a wave of crimson escaping them both as a surge of pain burned through them, and their respective worlds were filled with sound as an explosion of energy was let out.
A single word on both of their lips, said together like a memory echoed across two souls, a word so enriched and engrained in their reality that just the mere utterance of it shook the foundations of the world itself.
"Persona!"
Akira knew the name of the being within him, the mask fitting his face like the last never had, his white mask having felt like an extension of his soul.
But this mask… it felt like him, condensed and reduced down to the most basic form of himself, but not a single part of him sacrificed to make it whole.
It was dark as well, like holding a living shadow in his hands as he felt the sheer cold radiating off it like a chilling spirit.
It felt just right on him.
And he saw that shadowy being, the new reflection of his heart, a man in scarlet, a chilling grin that would terrify even the most hardened of warriors.
His new Persona, a being that ruled Hell, rather than one that had suffered in it.
And a feeling, almost ominous, in the pit of his stomach as if he had summoned forth something beyond his understanding.
Not even when he had called forth Satanael, the Fallen One, had he felt this overwhelming feeling of power, like he had chained a lease onto a train and was merely being pulled away.
And yet, he felt no fear, just the pressure against his skin.
He imagined this was what it felt like to own a nuclear weapon, all that power and heat, all in the palm of your hand.
With a hellish grin of his own, and a flick of his wrist, Akira took hold of the link between him and the entity, compelling it into motion as the Black Mask readied himself for retaliation.
But Akira wasn't standing down, never again.
He would strike back.
"Erase him from my sight, Mephisto!"
And the crossroads demon struck, and the Black Mask was no more as Mephisto tore the cognition's head clean from his body in a single motion, a flash of blood being all that showed the Persona had moved at all.
With the final instrument of his imprisonment gone, his Palace finally began to crumble, and Akira woke up.
Goro didn't understand what was going on, or why a mask had formed across his face, but he knew he had to tear the offending veil away.
And so he did, screaming through the unholy pain as he tore the cover from his soul and felt the embrace of his true self, though he understood none of what was happening to him.
He barely noticed as his coat grew and lightened, the corners of his mind tightening and a powerful presence settled in the back of his mind, a wealth of knowledge unfolding before his eyes as he felt the pressure of a thousand cases on his shoulders.
And he knew the name of the one within, of the… Persona, that he had awakened.
His eyes were opened.
He had half feared it would be Robin Hood, his childhood having been spent idolizing the heroic outlaw, and yet now he found something entirely different awaiting him.
And he would not turn it away, even as Kurusu recovered from the kick Goro had given, the gun going flying from the other boy's hands as a blazing fire formed within him, and Goro set it free as soon as it started burning.
A figure in a long coat appeared before him, a downcast cap hiding their features as only an intrigued set of blue eyes remained, an aura of mystery and danger following the being like flies.
And yet, Goro knew who this was, as well as he knew himself.
It was his other self, his… Persona.
And he would not allow himself to die when he had just found the means to ensure he succeeded.
He would not surrender.
"Snap him out of it, Hoʊmz!"
And the two collided against one another, and the world around them fell apart as they both found themselves adrift in a shapeless void, only their respective Personas there to greet them as they drifted through boundless space.
And then, it was all gone, and the two stood together in the nurse's office, all violent drive having vanished in an instant and Goro noticed an interesting look to Kurusu's eyes as they faded back to grey, the crimson disappearing almost instantly as calm composure fell over Akira.
The two stared at each other for several minutes before Akira finally broke the silence, the boy confused and anxious as he began to rub at the back of his neck.
Their masks shone in direct contrast, as did their understandings of the situation, Akira merely finding himself confused and struggling to piece together what was going on.
"So, nice mask."
Notes:
By the way, the Persona 2 arc will feature a M/M relationship, most of you can probably guess who. Just a warning to any that may find themselves offended.
They can fuck off.
Also, just as Arsène was a Persona based on Arsène Lupin, Hoʊmz is a Persona based on Sherlock Holmes, which I felt was a more fitting Persona for a more serious and logical Goro, one who actually takes being a detective seriously.
Hope everyone's have a good time, just starting Strikers and bought Resident Evil Village.
Can't wait to meet my new Vampire Dommy Mommy.
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter VIII: The Reality of Causality
The Resewn Wings of Samael:
The Prime Minister’s Office, Nagatachō
April 15th, 2016
"Minister Shido, sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation on our hands." Naoki Tsichida said with anxious energy as he burst into the office, the sound of flowing water accompanying him as the silver fountain poured forth the waters of life.
Naoki hadn't been an assistant for very long, but thankfully Shido wasn't that forceful of a boss, nor as rude as some of the people he had worked for before. He had quickly grown used to the hustle and bustle, and the mountains of hateful mail that came in, though he still winced at the unkind words to a man he so respected.
"It's fine Naoki, what's happened now?" The older man said with a concerned glance as Naoki took a seat before his desk, the younger man fretting as he wondered how best to address it, his thoughts wandering as he did.
Masayoshi Shido, a man once loved but much darker, now reviled and honest in all things, was a complex man.
He had once been Japan's star, beloved and wished by all to lead them, a man that could do no wrong, a man who held all the answers and Japan's hopes and dreams in his clenched fist.
Then one day, roughly twelve years ago, he changed almost overnight, confessing every single sin he had ever committed.
He had seemed to have a change of heart, and many didn't like that, years of carefully constructed plans being discarded in an instance.
Naoki hadn't been involved, but had heard the news as the Minister revealed that he had been at the head of a conspiracy to take over Japan, and had then turned around and exposed his conspirators, ensuring they were arrested.
He set off a whirlwind, as everyone from actors and idols, to politicians and yakuza were found to be working with him for the shared goal of a conquered and oppressed Japan.
Until he changed his mind, choosing to do what was right, rather than what was easy, confessing everything on live television.
He had been imprisoned for a time, a lighter sentence for turning against his once allies, and somehow managed to return to the Diet and eventually become Prime Minister, despite his horrid reputation and the scores of people that didn't trust him.
Shido had done the impossible, becoming Prime Minister despite being hated by most of the country, and somehow managing a decent approval rating as well.
And yet, while Shido held many enemies and fewer places to hide from them, he never let it hold him back from doing the right thing.
Masayoshi Shido was a very complicated, but good man, that much Naoki was sure of.
"Do you remember a doctor by the name of Tae Takemi? She was a researcher on the Alpha Initiative, head of the Peace Program." Naoki said carefully as a frustrated look flooded Shido's eyes, the man only running a hand along his beard as he sighed.
"I certainly do remember Doctor Takemi… Last I heard she went quiet. I'm assuming that's not the case anymore?" Shido asked with an exhausted glare as Naoki just laid a folder on the desk, the familiar handwriting of Goro Akechi on the cover.
"Well, she went off the grid for a bit, hard to keep track of her, and somehow got a job as Shujin Academy's nurse. Your son contacted us an hour ago, do you remember his report about the rage virus he discovered in the school’s population?" Naoki explained as he opened the folders and began laying out documents for purview, a CCTV photo of Takemi in front of Shujin, along with the chemical makeup of the virus that had plagued the school being front and center.
"Akechi-San confronted Doctor Takemi after having a suspicion, and she admitted to manufacturing the virus, seemingly in an attempt to get revenge for you closing down the Peace Program. He has confirmed a list of infected individuals that Takemi put together, the total casualty listing is over four-thousand people in Tokyo, varying cases across the country."
The situation was grim, seeing a list of every single person affected by Takemi’s actions, and indirectly, due to Shido’s own.
He had shut down her research after all, driving her to create a virus in stark contrast to the one she had once dreamt of, to bring about the nightmare he had feared.
No matter what they may say, Shido felt the weight of all of them on his shoulders, as this was his fault.
"I figured this day would come, that someone would finally target my son in an attempt to get back at me. The fact that it is a vendetta that I helped create, makes it even worse..." Shido said with a huff as he looked over the list of confirmed infected, most of his cabinet was listed along with several names he knew from junior Diet members along with their friends and families.
And yet thousands more were infected, not just those that he knew, and it was his responsibility to fix his mistake.
Just like before, and he would shoulder the blame again, no matter the consequences.
Takemi held a stranglepoint over their society, and was aiming to destroy them all, creating a tragedy that they may never recover from.
Shido could not allow that to happen.
"Akechi-San stated that Takemi confessed to him that the virus was not self-destructing as previously suspected. The virus lies dormant after the initial infection period, and then can be remotely activated from there on. She threatened to activate every infected person and leave them like that, thousands left in a ceaseless rage that could never be stopped." Naoki said with a heavy heart as he saw the humanity reflected in the Minister's eyes, both of them very aware of how horrific a situation it would be if Takemi drove Japan mad with bloodlust, of the thousands of lives that would be lost in just a single day. Let alone months, or even years…
But neither had an idea how to stop her.
"Your son confronted her and was given an ultimatum to either arrest her and have her activate the virus, or to let her go. He chose to arrest her, only for a classmate of his that she infected to attack him. He managed to purge the virus from the other boy, and apparently they're working with Professor Masami Magatsu to try to create an antidote.”
And that gave a measure of hope, one that they desperately would need, especially now.
“Okay, you said that Goro’s still at Shujin, right? Contact Doctor Shimizu and have him collect the Field Team, and have all of them head over to Shujin with the medical report we got from the Kuwata boy. Have them provide any and all assistance Goro may need, funding is approved. This is a priority, and can not afford to be delayed. As well, keep an eye on Magatsu and his research, we can't afford to fail." Shido said with a hard gaze then as he stared down at the photo of Takemi, a deep breath taken as he focused his gaze anywhere but at the embodiment of his regret.
“In a flash Minister, would you care for me to oversee the operation?” Naoki asked with a confident glance as if the wind had been forced back into his sails, the young man eager to prove himself vital to his boss, and overjoyed to have a part to play in helping save so many people.
“I only ask that you help my son, and… You said a classmate of his was helping? A formerly infected classmate?” Shido said with a confused glance then, as Goro had often turned away potential partners during his work with the Police, preferring to work alone aside from Magatsu’s assistance, though the Professor was more of a resource than a partner.
The fact his son had actually allowed someone else, a stranger at that, to help him was… curious.
“Oh yes, the new transfer student to Shujin. Bright kid from what I’ve read, was an honor student before he came to Shujin. Akira Kurusu.”
At that, Shido paused for a second, something ringing in the back of his mind, like he should know that name… Like Kurusu, whoever that was, was strangely important.
“Never heard of him.”
Shujin Academy, Aoyama-Itchome
Seven Hours Earlier
They found themselves in a confused, and tense silence then as the two stared at one another, not even stopping when both of their masks and costumes faded away and leaving their uniforms behind.
Yet both knew that something had radically changed within them both.
“For once in my professional life, I find myself at a loss. You see, it truly is the twisted difference between wisdom and knowledge. I now hold so many different things in my mind, the knowledge of… Personas, of Shadows, even whatever the hell the Sea of Souls is. Even more puzzling- I can speak English now. ” Goro Akechi said with a frustrated glare, and a flawless accent as Akira found himself almost as confused, as the last thing he remembered before his Palace has drawn him in, was being knocked unconscious… and yet he knew that something had happened to him during that time, considering he was in an entirely different place and facing off against a new and unfamiliar version of Goro Akechi.
One who seemed genuinely confused, which made no sense at all.
But that outfit Goro had manifested, and that mask, were neither of the ones that Akira knew, and this Goro was truly an enigma.
As was how it was possible for him to manifest a Persona in reality…
“I mean, I had a friend who’s Persona was an Eldritch creature, and he learned to speak R’lyehian. They imprint on us in a way, and so can I.” Akira somewhat explained as he found himself remembering the oddness of having a Persona. In his previous life, he remembered the effects. After awakening Arsène Lupin, Akira could speak flawless French, albeit with an older accent. When Haru had awoken Milady de Winter, she had found herself with the same gift, the two of them taking great delight in holding conversations that none of their friends could understand.
However, he didn’t understand why his English accent was vaguely British, though he would assume it had to do with Mephisto’s influence, which was another thing he dreaded going into.
Mephisto was a Demon, and Akira now knew things he wished he didn’t.
Hell existed, there were beings similar to Shadows, known as Demons that were even stronger.
Just as they could summon Personas, there were people that could summon and control Demons, and there were an entire pantheon of beings that masquerade as humans and walk among them.
As well, he learned many revelations about his past and the truth of Personas, things he wouldn't have even guessed at.
Lucifer, his shining soul having been a comforting presence on Akira during the roughest of trials, but now he knew that the Lucifer he had fused as evidence of his bond with Hifumi, was nothing more than a figment of human imagination.
The Persona he had wielded was the embodiment of Humanity’s idea of Lucifer, and the real deal had a desire to destroy the planet and everyone on it… Which was concerning to say the least.
“You seem oddly calm about all of this Kurusu, almost as if this isn’t the first time you have, would awoken be the correct term?” Goro asked with a critical eye then as Akira could only wonder what would be the correct way to handle this. He was beginning to believe that this Goro wasn’t the Black Mask, and that was becoming more and more obvious the more he spoke to him.
“I’ve been around the block a little, I’ll admit, but basically there’s another world parallel to ours, called the Metaverse. It’s a world of cognition, and we can use our Personas to fight Shadows within that world in order to affect the real world.” Akira said with a sagely inflection as he remembered his first introduction to all of this, Morgana hastily explaining things away as he and Ryuji struggled to deal with the strange reality they had found themselves in.
Now, he found himself playing that same role that Morgana had once played for them.
“That sounds remarkably like Cognitive Psience… Are you telling me it’s not mindless garbage?” Goro asked with a surprised glance as they noticed something form on the edge of his coat then, what looked like a silver pin of a magnifying glass.
On Akira’s own coat, a scarlet pin of an upside down cross appeared, though he was quick to flip it around.
Best not to start rumors he really didn’t need to deal with.
“It’s all real. The Metaverse, changing hearts… The Mental Shutdowns are the actions of someone else with our ability, a person that I’ve been trying to find. From what I could tell, there are at least two other people out there with powers like ours, the one causing these deaths and someone that is changing hearts.” Akira said as he felt a chill go over his spine then, almost as if something dearly important was happening and he didn’t have a clue what it could be.
“Changing hearts?” Goro said with a confused glance as they found themselves sitting besides the scattered furniture, the two of them feeling a sudden exhaustion set in that Akira recognized from his first awakening. Fortunately, Sojiro had packed him a thermos of Blue Mountain that morning, which he was more than glad to share with his new found ally.
And he couldn’t get over how odd it was that out of everyone he could have found himself awakening alongside, he hadn’t expected Goro Akechi of all people to need him to explain the Metaverse…
“Within the Metaverse, there are Shadows that are deeply connected to people within the real world. When a person becomes cruel or distorted in some way, their Shadow grows in strength and a realm known as a Palace forms. Within that Palace, their Shadow grows in power unchecked, and begins to override that person’s base personality. If one kills the Shadow, the person will die as well. If you only defeat the Shadow, and force them to return to their other self, then the person will return to how they once were.” Akira explained carefully as he made sure not to mention the concept of Treasures, not willing to step back into that trap.
They had thought themselves doing good work, stealing Treasures and changing hearts, but the Treasures hadn’t been the source of their distorted desires. Their Treasures had been what protected them from Yaldabaoth’s influence, and stealing them had allowed the Demiurge to take control of them again.
Akira would not play into the God of Control’s hand, not again, nor would he allow his allies to fall victim to that mistake again.
“So, if you defeat the Shadow, the person will reform in reality? Quite interesting of an idea, reforming a person through defeating the embodiment of their twisted aspirations… Do you believe Takemi would have a… Palace, then?” Goro asked innocently enough as Akira found himself doing a double take, as if he felt confused before, it was nothing compared to the disbelief he now faced.
“Takemi? Tae Takemi?”
“One and the same. She became Shujin’s nurse some months ago, and engineered the Hate Virus to get revenge on my father for shutting down her research. She infected you while you were in her care, though I do believe your awakening was successful in purging it from your system, though now I find myself lacking a sample of the virus to reverse engineer.” Goro explained to him then as he realized that Akira wouldn’t have exactly been in the know considering the concussion and the virus’ influence over his mind as well.
“As well, she had poisoned thousands across the country, and revealed to me that she can reactivate the infected at any time, creating a blood rage that will never end. I believe that is her plan here.” Goro said with some hint of fear then, as he truly was afraid of what the fallout of his actions would be, of whether he should have accepted her deal despite the consequences.
Whether he would be responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent people.
“That’s… that’s a bombshell, but only one way to find out…” Akira said with a deep sense of sadness then, as it broke a piece of him to learn that Tae was such a dark figure in this world.
And he found himself short of breath as he felt the world slow to a crawl, and a voice he didn’t expect to hear echoing in his mind.
I am thou… Thou art I…
Thou hast suffered a loss most grave.
As Fate shifts further, the bond you formed no longer exists, the link between your hearts shattered beyond reconciliation.
Fate has broken the strength of your heart, and no way forward lies before you.
With the ruin of the Death Arcana , you have lost a piece of yourself that you will never recover…
If that somber announcement wasn’t enough, Akira found himself fading away from the confines of the nurse’s office, a dark void surrounding him as he knew he was now inside of his Mask, the dark energies of the Metaverse phasing into life around him.
And the Persona standing before him was one he knew very well, and he thought this might happen…
The familiar blue dress, the dead emotion in her eyes, and yet a shade of sadness fell on her usually sadistic face.
“Hello again Akira. It has been sometime since we last played together.”
Alice had come to say goodbye, and he found himself beginning to tear up, the ghost girl having grown to become one of his favorite Personas.
“Hello Alice… I will miss you.”
“And I you. The time I was your Mask, reminded me much of the world before. You taught me a lot, Akira Kurusu, may we meet again.” Alice said then with a sad whimper as a genuine smile grew on her pale face, Akira finding himself giving the young girl a hug as he felt the essence of the Death Arcana fade from his mind, Alice vanishing into blue flakes of lights that began to trail away into the darkness.
And Akira found himself once more in reality, the Metanav app opened on his phone as he saw the destination selection screen, a part of him having to steel his nerves for what he knew was coming.
“Please enter a destination to begin navigation.” The app said aloud as Goro jumped, the detective obviously not expecting it to speak, but Akira paid him little attention.
Not when he felt the shattered and sharp remains of his bond with Tae, the edges like glass as he carefully tried to avoid feeling what was left of his friendship with her.
“Tae Takemi.”
“Match found: Tae Takemi.”
And that was the final nail on the coffin that Tae was no longer the kind hearted healer that Akira had known, instead something dark and twisted having taken her place, Goro’s explanation sadly real as he now found himself believing that Tae could actually poison the children under her care.
Despite how much it hurt to consider.
“What is that, Kurusu?” Goro asked aloud as he looked over Akira’s shoulder, the entry screen awaiting a location.
“The Metaverse Navigator, or Metanav. It’s an app that allows us to enter and travel through the Metaverse. This just confirmed that Tae Takemi does have a Palace, but we have to guess what location she had distorted in her mind, and what she believes it to be.” Akira explained dully as he already had an idea of what her keywords would be, but a part of him dreaded seeing the Palace of his former friend.
“Shujin Academy.” Goro suggested then as the app lit up once more, a confirmation ringing out as Akira knew that he had to do this, that they had no choice in the matter.
He would have to steal Tae’s heart, no matter how hard it would be.
“Laboratory.” He whispered under his breath as he stared coldly at the app, Goro’s body tensing as a scarlet light began to emit outwards from the phone.
“Match found: Tae Takemi. Shujin Academy. Laboratory.”
With the feeling of his Mask returning, and the burning grip of Mephisto on his mind, Akira knew he alone had the responsibility to remove the distortion from Tae’s heart, as he knew she would have hated the person she had become.
“Beginning navigation.”
Under the Blackened Mask:
At the same time that Akira Kurusu and Goro Akechi decided to put an end to the threat that Tae Takemi posed to not only them, but to the entire country, a figure stood alone elsewhere in the dark.
A phone’s light illuminating their features as the familiar entry screen of the Metaverse Navigator met their sharp gaze, their mind set and decided as they spoke aloud the fulfillment of their oath.
“Tae Takemi. Shujin. Research Laboratory.” The Black Mask said aloud as they felt the weight of their helmet form over them, the feel of their pistol growing heavy as an ominous light washed over them.
“Match found: Tae Takemi. Shujin Academy. Laboratory.”
“Beginning navigation.”
They had a job to do, and they would not allow anyone to stop them, not when the end was so close at hand.
Only a few more and they would finally be done…
And it would all be over.
But the Black Mask wasn’t alone, two others walking through the front of Takemi’s Palace, and they found that this was an interesting situation.
They were not alone in the ability to use a Persona.
This required extensive observation.
And should these Persona users prove troublesome, they would require extensive termination.
Of that, the Black Mask was absolute.
The Biology Classroom, Shujin Academy
Masami Magatsu was confused to be honest, he had expected Goro back quickly, and yet now the boy was late and Masami found himself trying to examine the structure of the virus even closer.
Things were not going well in the slightest.
Do you not find it foolish to hinge your hopes on a mere boy? A familiar voice spoke within his mind then as he put aside the virus slide, the sample not large enough to analyze, and thus useless to find a method of curing it.
“I’ve done it before to great benefit, so I would say you shouldn’t count Goro out so soon.” Masami said under his breath as he found himself looking out of the window into the falling night, the sky so very familiar to another that he had spent so long staring at on cold nights.
And should the boy fail? Do you have any plan to avoid ruin? Do you even know how to?
“I don’t need to. I have faith in him, and I know he will pull through. He’s a Wild Card after all, that means something.” Masami said with a small grin then as a militant figure appeared beside him, the creature’s sharp blade close by as it slammed it’s harsh fist against the countertop.
Why must you stagnate? Why could you not be the one to resolve this malevolence? Could you not do just as well as the boy?
He probably could, he was more than powerful enough to force a weak Shadow to reform, but Masami wasn’t that person anymore.
He was out of the Game, he had no further role to play in it.
“You know I can’t.”
Do you still follow his instructions? You hold the power of a god at your fingertips, and you find it fair to rot away in this prison of emptiness?
And at that, Masami snapped as anger flooded his mind and his fist found it’s way around the figure’s throat, the otherworldly specter struggling as Masami’s fingers dug into the translucent flesh of the being.
He could feel the breath falter from his Persona as he held it firm, the being's eyes wide as Masami's own eyes began to glow a violent scarlet, the lines between the worlds weakening around him.
You would allow this world to burn, merely to abide his selfish punishment? You would disavow your own self, allow this world to fall just to do as he asks? When did you allow weakness to drown your heart?
“Izanagi, enough.”
And with that, the warrior vanished, and Masami was alone once more.
He had done his part, his time on the stage was over now.
This Game belonged to another, and he was an unwanted addition.
He had learned his lesson about playing someone else's game…
And yet, he sat in wonder as his cell phone began to ring, a name he never expected to hear from again.
With a debate of what he really wanted, he answered the phone, that old familiar voice he missed so much on the other line, his heart freezing at the softness in her voice as she said his name so beautifully.
"Tohru?"
The Fool Who Sought Identity:
"The train to Shibuya is departing shortly. All passengers, please find your seats in a timely fashion." The announcer said with a crisp voice as a man walked past the station's metal detectors, his badge being enough to make the attendant ignore the beeps, the man's service pistol hanging from his waist as he found himself taking a seat beside an older man, one with dark red eyes.
"Got here quickly enough I see, good to see in someone so young. I'm Detective Niijima, but you can call me Minori. Since we couldn’t get a hold of Detective Shirogane, you and I will be working together while you’re here." The older man said with a slight grin as his companion just looked out past the windows of the train, Tokyo having changed in his time away, the movement of the train causing his hair to sway into motion.
"I read up on your work, you know. You caught the Inaba Hangman, you did a good job. Your record's impressive, still can't believe your closure rate in your first year, put most of the boys to shame. Even met your brother once, he had nothing but praise for you, but I’ve always wanted to meet you myself."
The younger detective just scowled then as he looked down at his phone's screen, the announcements of a high school website displayed there, surrounded by news of sports and other garbage.
He didn't care about any of that, only for one person in particular, the reason he had returned to the hellhole that was Tokyo.
"Takemi is in the wind, but-”
At that, Minori was tuned out as the young detective let his thoughts wander, remembering a promise made and way too many regrets.
An oath not to play this game again, one that he had broken.
This was all his fault, he had lost everything, just because he didn’t know how to be happy.
“Narukami, you dozing off on me?” The train had arrived in the time he hadn’t been paying attention, the senior detective gesturing out into the crowds of Shibuya station, Yu trying to build back his composure as he stood to follow the man.
“Right behind you.”
Notes:
Author's Note:
Finished Resident Evil Village, and I loved it.
Still haven't started P5Strikers, but I'll get to it eventually.
A trend in this series, is that in each arc of the story, the protagonist of the previous arc will feature in the latest arc.
Thus, Naoya will appear in the Persona 2 arc, Tatsuya will appear in Persona 3, Minato
and Minako will appear in Persona 4, and as you can see here, Yu Narukami will play a role in Persona 5. However, when they star in arcs that are not their own, they will not be heavily focused on. Think of these appearances as them being NPCs, rather than protagonists.
Yu will not be a confidant of Akira's. Adding to that, Protagonists of different Decks (Arcs) will not be confidants with each other. Minato and Minako will have their own as they are twins, and Goro and Akira shall have theirs, but Minato will not be a confidant of Yu's, and etc.I have as well revealed all the pairings that this story will include, for every arc.
For the Hunger Arc (P1), the main pairing will be Naoya Tudou and Maki Sonomura.
For the Order and Chaos Arcs (P2/P2EP), the main pairing will be Tatsuya Suou and Jun Kurosu.
For the Solace Arc (P3), the pairings will be Minato Arisato and Aigis, with the secondary pairing being Minako Arisato and Fuuka Yamagishi.
For the Identity Arc (P4), the main pairings will be Yu Narukami and Marie, with the secondary pairing being Souji Seta and Naoto Shirogane. (All shall be revealed)
And of course, the main pairing of the Ruin Arc (P5) will be Akira Kurusu and Haru Okumura.
As well, I do have ideas for Persona 4 Arena, PQ and PQ2. Elements of Strikers will appear, but the main events of the game will not occur due to the changed timeline.Following that, there will be several crossovers inside this story, either from series that are already connected to Persona in some way, and some that I merely believe fit well in the world. You might have missed it, but I actually tied in Yakuza in the first chapter.
This has officially been my longest note on this site, but I wanted to give you all an indicator of the direction I'm taking.
Also changed some art for the earlier chapters.
That is all.
-Oscar
Chapter 9: Soliloquy of Shadows
Summary:
With darkness rising, Naoya Toudou, the first Wild Card, awakens to a greater purpose
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
“Now I do not know whether I was a man dreaming I was a Butterfly”
“What are you talking about?”
“Humans, born of the God's madness, belong to me.”
“Or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”
“This power was not yours to take.”
“Where did you go?”
“This world is yours now, there’s no place for you to go that we can’t follow.”
“This path is not an easy one.”
“Do you remember?”
“This world is not the one that you left.”
“Where did you take them?!”
“This is the end of your story, and mine.”
“Who you really are?”
Hunger Arc: Part II
Chapter IX: Soliloquy of Shadows
1986
It had been a festival, one held at their school and had been an event that Naoya had been looking forward to for some time.
His twin wasn't as excited for it as he was, an odd occasion where the elder twin wasn't his usual social butterfly self.
And yet, Kazuya was consoled by their mother stating that he could go see his little friends when they got there, his brother having grown excited at the idea, whereas Naoya felt a little cold inside.
He didn’t have anyone waiting for him at the festival.
So on a Saturday night, young Naoya Toudou was left adrift in a crowd of rambunctious children as the sights and sounds of the festival overwhelmed him more than the staggering crowd could ever.
Their mother had seen a friend of hers, running off to go speak to the fellow parent, while Kazuya had disappeared almost immediately to go find his friends.
Leaving the youngest Toudou alone in the mass of sound and flesh, his senses burning as he couldn't catch sight of his mother, let alone where the school even was with so many people towering over him.
It was like being trapped below a blanket of darkness, only the light above him illuminated as people pushed and shoved him aside like an empty can.
And yet, he oddly didn't feel alone, a pair of eyes he felt in his bones fell on his back, a presence that his young mind could only barely comprehend.
A man with pale blonde hair, watching him from the shadow of the concession stands, his blue eyes almost confused as the man looked around, his gaze lingering on Naoya akin to a life line as Naoya felt a kinship to the man.
They were both lost.
But let it never be said that Naoya wasn't stupidly, dangerously brave, and he approached the stranger with a fragile smile.
“Hello there child, this is… quite an interesting place to find another like you.” The odd man said with a weary tone as Naoya almost swore the man’s eyes flickered red for a second, but the boy merely took a seat on the bench beside the man, eager to have some company considering his family had nearly vanished on him.
“Why? Do you not go to festivals?” Naoya said with the best control over his syllables that he could muster, his words coming out almost perfect as the man only seemed more confused at the boy’s attempt to socialize.
“You call this a festival?” The man then looked with scrutiny at the people that passed them by, almost as if they couldn’t even see the two of them, but Naoya was more confused by the man’s odd accent. “All I see are sheep blind to their own slaughter.”
Naoya laughed.
“Something you find humorous, child?”
“You speak funny.” And at that the man’s face fell as he took a breath, his eyes the color of ice as he almost seemed to notice the boy for the first time, an odd feeling overwhelming him as the air around them seemed to shift.
“You… Why are you so familiar, boy? Do you walk the same road as I?” The man asked as the boy only shared his look of confusion then, a smile coming unbidden then as the boy’s face lit up with a warm grin.
“I dunno, I’m Naoya! What’s your name?”
At that the man almost seemed caught off guard, such a simple gesture as introducing himself seemed foreign to such an odd man, almost as if he didn’t converse often.
“My name… That’s a parable in itself.” The man let loose a low laugh then as he took a seat beside the boy, the small bench feeling quite crowded now, but Naoya was delighted to have someone to talk with.
“What’s a… parable?”
“I’ve had quite a few names. You can call me… Louis, but… you’re not of my game are you, little Naoya?” The stranger, Louis, said then as the boy only looked confused, however intrigued.
“I like games.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m afraid mine isn’t for the faint of heart. However, I can see there is a grand fate before you. Much hardship, but I foresee great fortune as well.” Louis said as a strange little smile appeared on his face then, the boy looking confused as the man simply poked the boy’s forehead with a single finger, a sparkle of light flashing before nothing else lingered.
“Know that even on your darkest of days, you shall never be alone Naoya Toudou. May the road of Chaos guide you, even with our paths diverged. You and I shall walk together, wherever your feet take you. Steel your heart, for the road ahead shall be long, and often dark. You have been chosen for a greater purpose.” Louis said then as his shadow seemed to morph behind him, twelve rays of light echoing out from him as Naoya’s eyes hurt from the sudden flash, his gaze averting only to find the stranger gone when he looked back.
Naoya was alone once more.
However, unknown to him, a voice spoke in the back of his mind, unheard and forgotten.
“I am thou… thou are I…”
Mikage-cho, 1996
“What?” Naoya said with utter confusion at the masked man before him, this so-called… Philemon, just stood there with ease as Naoya slowly processed the fact that the man had admitted to not being human.
“You know, I’m new to this all, but I’ll give you the basic explanation I was given. Anyway, I am Philemon, I’m the Incarnate of Hope, and I’m assigned to prevent the world from coming to an end on six different occasions… And you’re the first fortunate soul to receive my company!” The man said with glee as he threw an arm around Naoya’s shoulder, the youth just frazzled as he tried to fight off the man’s grip only to be shocked as transparent images began to appear before them both.
“You see, there’s this evil guy Nharly, he’s the Incarnate of Despair, and he basically wants to exterminate humanity. I’m the one in charge of making sure that doesn’t happen. You see, there’s going to be a bunch of dramatic and dangerous things happening, and a couple of lucky kids are going to get to experience some horrible things. Those lucky kids, of which you are the first, are called Wild Cards.” The man, Philemon explained as the image of a man in a crimson suit appeared, demonic beasts appearing by his side as phantom silhouettes of six teenagers appeared against him.
Naoya could distinctly make out one of them as himself, a look of defiance in his eyes that he had never seen in his own before.
“You see, you and a whole lot of other people have the ability to embody your spirits in physical forms, known as Persona. People like Nharly over there, do the same thing sort of, but in an evil way. Those are called Shadows, or Demons depending on the situation, and it’s your job to stop the bad guys. Fun right?” Philemon said with what sounded like glee as Naoya’s mind struggled to keep up, his mouth trying to speak words that his mind couldn’t put together.
“Now then, I can’t stick around here for too long, but I’ll be seeing you and your buddies real soon, as this peaceful lull won’t last forever. My advice? Get used to revelations real fast, because you have a lot to learn bucko.”
And before Naoya could even let loose the wave of confusion that dominated his mind, the man was simply gone as if he had never been there to begin with, and Naoya only found himself holding an odd card in his hands.
An image of what looked like a demon was on the card face, with a simple word at the bottom of it in glowing purple text.
Fool
Without even trying to, Naoya found himself falling alongside his friends as they retreated through the halls to the clubroom they had claimed for themselves some time ago.
They had become the official Literature club of Saint Hermelin, despite the fact that none of them really read any novels, but mostly used the cover to spend time together and work on assignments in relative peace.
Naoya mentally checked out as he looked through one of the old boxes they had in the room, half of their group having signed up to help with the preparations for the school’s latest play, though Naoya had taken a step back from that scene after a passing interest in theater.
It was some kinda play about an Ice Queen, and he’d lost interest near instantly.
Until Masao started yelling aloud, bringing the older boy’s attention firmly back to the presence, thoughts of weird Owlmen set aside for now.
“It’s ‘cause you did something pointless Kei!” Masao yelled in frustration as the older boy just stood aloof, his attention firmly on the decorations that they had been talked into helping with, the younger boy just annoyed at the events of their earlier class.
“Because of you opening your big mouth, now we gotta do a report and shit. That pisses me off!”
Kei just shrugged off the blame as he began gluing paper flowers onto the play banner, Naoya merely folding them into shape as he let the sound of his friends fill the void.
“All I did, Inaba, was speak the truth. The one at fault is not me, merely our teacher for his insufferable lack of teaching credentials. One can not be a man and a butterfly at the same time, absurd assumptions of a foolish man.” Kei said with a brand of distanced annoyance that Naoya had never seen from anyone else, almost as if the older boy was both upset and didn’t care that he was upset.
Masao wasn’t having any of it however.
“Nishida-Sensei is completely wrong in espousing such ridiculous pondering, his thoughts and personality notwithstanding, with that level of… Sorry Inaba, I forgot that lesser beings wouldn’t understand.” Kei said with a side eye full of spite as Masao’s face turned bright crimson as the younger boy exploded in rage.
“WHAT?! WHO YOU CALLING A LESSER BEING, YOU RAT BASTARD?!”
“Hey, shut up you two! You’re being annoying!” A sudden voice called out from the other side of the club, their senior member making her presence known with a withering gaze as Masao seemed to shrink at her voice.
Yukino Mayuzumi, an upperclassman that had seemed to latch onto each of them and try to corral them into some sort of order, and the person Naoya had to thank for Kei and Masao not having killed each other yet.
Not that Naoya wouldn’t have enjoyed watching the fight, as no doubt they’d both fight extraordinarily well, a true spectacle of might.
“Let’s hurry up and get this done! You all promised to help, and I have to get to my job this evening.” Yukino said with a harsh flame as Masao grew quiet and did nothing but nod as he went back to painting the banner, the brush heavy as the color began to come together.
Hidehiko, who previously had been silent, rose up then in question.
“Hmm, Yukino, this is pretty rare of you. You usually leave right away, what’s the occasion?” He said with an unusual interest as the boy finished folding a flower of his own, he and Naoya served to arm the others in their preparation as Yukino kept the two most volatile of their group from burning them all alive.
“It can’t be helped, Sensei Saeko personally asked me to help out, and you all agreed after all.” Yukino said with a rare grin as a chuckle echoed from the corner, Yukino’s eyes twitching at the predicted sound.
“You seem to do a lot for Sensei Takami, don’t you Yukino. You wouldn’t happen to actually, sincerely, truly, like our teacher, would you?” Eriko Kirishima, a prime part of the theater program and future fashion extraordinaire, was always up for taunting those she claimed to be friends with.
Yukino’s eyes just narrowed in turn, a slight blush on her cheeks as her eyes promised nothing but pain and suffering.
It wasn’t exactly a secret among the group that Eriko’s feelings for their theater teacher weren’t exactly puritan.
“Eriko…”
“Eriko, cut it out, the last thing we need is to fight each other so late. Let’s just finish the last banner and head home.” Naoya spoke up in a rare display of diplomacy, an attempt to calm the tides between them as his friends fell quiet, as he didn’t speak up very often to begin with.
“Rather than doing that, why don’t we do something different?” Hidehiko said with a tinge of excitement, a glint in his eyes as he came up behind Masao, the trickster sporting a sharp grin as Naoya’s interest was piqued.
And a part of him thought back to the odd man he had met the day before, who spoke of hardship…
“What did you have in mind?” Erika asked with an eager grin, the girl always up for a capable distraction, especially if it was fun.
“We could play the Persona game.”
A flash of a monstrous being flashed before Naoya’s eyes then, a familiar burning sensation in his skull as he fought off the sudden pain and tried to remain in the present, the words in his mind only a distraction.
“Persona Game? That’s… ambiguous.” Kei said with interest as he stepped forward, the group all doing the same as Hidehiko took center stage among them, his gaze blazing in mirth.
“You haven’t heard yet? I thought most of the school had heard. It’s a game you play as the sun begins to set, and they say it'll give you a vision of your future. Probably an exaggeration, but it’s quite a spooky time they say.” Hidehiko said with quiet persuasion as the others began running over his words.
A glimpse of the future…
“Total bullshit. No one can see the future, especially not by playing such a stupid game.” Masao said with a huff as he threw off his interest, his eyes once more on his paintbrush as Erika’s eyes seemed to grow a bit wider.
“Is this Persona game accurate?”
“Nooopppeee. I don’t believe a word of this shit. It’s just another one of Brown’s tricks, I’d even bet 2000 Yen that it doesn’t even work.” Masao said with blatant disregard as Hidehiko’s grin rose even further.
“That’s a bet I like.”
“Oh yeah, hope you enjoy paying for my lunch fucker.” Masao asid with a grin as the group seemed to divide into sides then as belief and suspicion warred between them.
“I’m quite interested in such an idea, Uesugi better come through.” Eriko said with a violent smile as Naoya just shook his head as he recalled the talk he’d had with… Philemon. He had said he was capable of summoning a Persona, a spirit.
This couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I too would like to see what Hidehiko has to show us.” Kei said with a growing intrigue as the older boy went to stand beside them, the two sporting mutual looks of desire to learn their supposed future.
“I’m out, I’ve got things to do.” Yukino said with a wave of her hand as she strode out the door, the others just staring back as they looked towards Naoya, the only one that hadn’t pitched out belief or disbelief.
With a breath, he just looked up at them.
“Fine, I’m in.”
“The game’s simple everyone. Each of us stands in a corner of the room, we each recite the incantation, we walk over to the person next to us and touch them. When all of us have finished, the Persona game takes us to another world, to the future.” Hidehiko said with an odd focus as they each found themselves in a corner, Naoya standing in the center of the room as Hidehiko had said there was a thing about an odd number of players.
Supposedly, it meant Naoya was the odd one out, and he would only be able to see their futures and not his own.
He already feared what was to come, so not getting to see it was honestly a relief.
“Each of you, repeat after me, even you Masao… and remember, you have to finish the incantation, you can’t stop halfway. Everyone ready?” Hidehiko said with a grin, his eyes shimmering from behind his glasses as the room seemed to grow a little darker, Naoya’s nerves burning as he swore he saw things moving in the shadows.
“Let our hearts burn, awaken our minds. Persona.” Hidehiko said aloud with conviction as the light above his head began to dull, the others not seeming to notice in the excitement of the moment.
Kei was the first to speak after him, a tinge of almost worry in his tone as the boy muttered out the phrase, his own light fading as the game continued.
“Guess I’m doing this shit… Let our hearts burn. Awaken our minds. Persona.” Masao said half heartedly with skepticism, the boy not even noticing the room growing ever darker through his blind denial.
Erika spoke up then, her eyes narrowed then as a wide smile spread across her face.
“Well then, it’s my turn, isn’t it?” She said with a small laugh as her eyes fell closed, the air itself changing around them as Naoya felt a chill stab through his spine. “Let our hearts burn, awaken our minds. Persona.”
With that, a final light faded as the room was plunged into darkness, a weakening feeling falling over Naoya as he felt the ground fade away from beneath his feet, his gaze wavering as a light flickered into being beside him.
It felt… familiar.
“Help… me.”
Who dares call to me?
Ah, it’s you, I remember you…
You who have crossed the threshold, behold the fire you have thrown yourself into, the flame that keeps the shadows at bay.
You who know loneliness greater than any other, though you have never truly been alone.
I know your plight young one, our roads have joined, may we never split again.
Know my name and say it, save yourself from the abyss, and allow my strength to be yours.
Hold fast Naoya, this is merely the beginning.
The room seemed the same, the darkness fading as a dull crimson light began to fill the room, the students coming to as they found themselves awakening in a different realm than that they had known, though completely unaware.
However, except for the sudden appearance of a young girl at the door to the classroom, a girl in a black school uniform, a sharp smile on her lips.
“What… what happened?” Masao said with confusion as they began to crawl to their feet, each of them watching as the girl began to step into the room, her eyes glowing an ominous red as she stepped closer, their way out blocked even if they didn’t know that was where they should have headed.
“You wanted to play a game… And so did I… Now we’ll play together, until I have to throw you away of course.” The girl said with a sadistic glee as the shadows began to form and squirm behind the girl, eldritch creatures coming to life as they sprung up from the floor, glowing eyes and fearsome claws forming from the sludge of darkness around the girl.
And somewhere, a bell began to ring.
“Don’t you want to see your futures…?” The girl said as her mouth drew open, sharpened teeth filling her gaping maw as the students fell backwards in fright, the monster and her beasts blocking their escape as one by one they felt the cold aura filling their veins with ice, each of them fading a little in her presence.
“Begone.” A sudden voice echoed out in rage as the youths turned on the spot, Naoya standing behind them where he hadn’t been before, his eyes glowing a fierce blue as the air around him began to ripple and shatter, shards of reality itself falling to pieces around him as the image of shadowy wings formed behind him, the visage of horns growing from his skull.
The girl froze in her place then, almost like a predator noticing another on their hunting ground.
“You… you shouldn’t be here… This is MY GAME.” The girl screamed aloud in absolute rage, the shadowy creatures surging forward to attack as Naoya only lifted what seemed to be a coin in his hand.
In a second, he flipped the coin in the air, an image of a silver demon emblazoned on the coin’s face as the metal began to burn and crack, the sound of glass breaking drowning out the creatures as a brilliant light began to blaze across Naoya’s form.
And a creature both horrible and mighty stood behind him, a beast befitting such a hardened soul.
With a single gesture, the nearest beast was impaled on a spear of flames, Naoya merely grinning sharply as flames began to crawl across his arms, his other self doing the same.
“How… HOW?!” The girl called out in rage, only for her to be silenced as the beast of Naoya’s own left out a rumbling roar of aggression.
And Naoya felt inclined to do the same.
“Lucifer, tear them apart.”
And the beast did as he commanded, and his friends could only watch in horror as Naoya’s laughter drowned out the sounds of the creatures writhing in pain, nor the sounds of the monstrous girl running away.
With ease the demonic shadow of Naoya’s began to quite literally tear the creatures apart, their teeth doing nothing against the beast’s hide as it merely sunk his claws through their flesh, and they had nothing at all they could do in retaliation.
It was pure… chaos.
“Run, specter. Run while you still can…” Naoya said with a mad laugh as his eyes changed from blue, to a piercing yellow. “Because I’ll find you.”
Notes:
So, been a little while.
I got so lost writing this chapter, and before I knew it, time flew by.
But, I'm back on track, rewrote the entirety of the Hunger Arc I had planned, and have a draft of the next couple of chapters in mind.
Hopefully you'll be hearing from me again soon, and hope you all enjoyed.
Chapter 10: A Castle By A Different Design
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter X: A Castle of a Different Design
Vignette of Death
2016, F.G (First Game)
"You're back again I see, studying must be really important to you…" Tae Takemi said with a liberal layering of sarcasm as her new guinea pig once again came back for another medical trial, the boy saying something or another about stress and exams.
She knew that was a complete lie, but the kid wasn't strung out and he didn't look like he'd shoot up a place while on her meds, so Tae cut him an ounce of slack and didn't prod him for the truth.
Not enough for him to get comfortable, but enough that he didn't wince before every trial, let alone complain.
"That mid-semester exam, just killing me…" Akira Kurusu said with a sheepish shrug, the boy's lies as skilled as the most machiavellian of saturday morning cartoon villains…
"Listen kid, I know that story about exams stressing you out is a lie. I also know you're not misusing the medication I give you, so I don't mind selling it to you, but don't lie to me. I'd rather you say nothing, rather than lie to me." Tae said with a critical eye then as the boy's eyes widened, shocked at her request but not against it.
"I… The medicine is for an important cause." Akira said carefully as Tae just nodded her head in response, her clipboard already in hand as she readied the latest experiment.
"All I needed to hear kiddo. Now, this serum strain will be a bit heavier than the previous samples, so don't act surprised if it knocks you on your ass." Tae said with a sadistic smirk as she inserted the heart-rate monitor into his vein, the metal tip pulling a pained growl from the boy.
"Suck it up Sunshine, you asked to be in my chair. Now, I'll be injecting you within the next five seconds. When you begin to feel the serum work, you'll start to feel extreme exhaustion, so try to lay down as carefully as you can. Sound good?" The doctor asked with a critical glance as the boy just gave the needle a weary glance and slowly nodded as he looked away.
"Don't worry, I'll give you a lollipop after." Tae said with a smirk as she slowly guided the syringe's tip into the vein, the boy grimacing as she let the stopper free, the latest of her experimental medications working it's magic as the boy's eyes slowly fell closed.
With a steady hand she helped him down on the medical bed, Akira's breathing slowing as she noticed the tension leave his body.
She froze in fear however, when a sudden sound echoed out that shouldn't have happened.
The monitor flashing a violent red, a line that should have been bouncing like a crimson wave, now flat.
Akira Kurusu's heart had stopped.
The Laboratory of Hatred, The Metaverse
"Quite gothic for a laboratory, don't you think?" Akechi said with an intrigued tone as they found themselves outside what appeared to be a darkened castle, more in line with Victor Frankenstein than an actual doctor.
And yet, Akira felt a sharp feeling in his throat as he looked upon the grotesque castle, what appeared to be corpses lying discarded outside of the castle walls.
Like horrid bricks, faceless masses were stacked so tightly together, the bodies appeared to be built into the very foundation of the fortress.
It was hard to connect the caring physician he has known with such a macabre manifestation.
And yet, despite the agony of seeing the sanctity of his friend's mind so savaged, Akira's mask had never felt more needed than before, even if it was purely to hide the pain in his eyes.
"I… I wouldn't have thought it to be this bad…" Akira said with a dying breath as Akechi stepped forward gingerly, the tips of his duster brushing the dirt path beneath them as the two stepped closer.
"Many people hope and pray for a best-case scenario, but I've found that things rarely decide to go so fortunately." Akechi observed calmly as Akira still couldn't believe what was happening, the once caring doctor he had known, now playing god with innocent lives as he found himself with only a traitor by his side.
The smell of rot was ever present and vile as they drew near; the reinforced gate of the Castle's courtyard was oddly left open, a glimpse of the grotesque sight beyond clear to see.
Almost like they were expected.
It was as they pushed through the open gate, that the previously clear afternoon sky fell away to a storm ravaged night, thunder striking around them like an introduction, a wail on the wind as Akira felt Mephisto's presence draw closer.
And oddly enough, as the heavy rain fell upon them, Akira felt something deeply wrong.
"We have to get out of the rain!" He called out over the roar of the ever growing storm, Akechi's coat billowing madly behind him as they began running towards the castle's doors, the ground behind them being rapidly and viciously struck by lightning as the boys felt the sparks of it biting away at their backs.
Feeling an otherworldly swiftness, Akira found himself dodging just as the latest strike aimed at him, the tails of his new coat catching flame as he went, a mercy that Cognitive rain still put out flames, but things had come too close for both of their liking.
And yet, as Akira reached out to open the doors of the castle wide, they found a surprise waiting for them on the inside of the abode, the floor completely missing as the two plunged forward over the edge.
And fell into the endless darkness below, the shadows lowering then into their frigid embrace…
Some Time Later…
"The intruder has been subdued, beginning autopsy-" A shadow wearing a surgical mask tried to say before it found an axe burying itself in it's skull, Akira waking up in a panic as candlelight assaulted his senses, his mask flaming into being as his heart struggled to keep up with the urgent danger.
From the look of things, he had been taken to a grime-and-gore covered dungeon, ready to be dissected by bloodthirsty shadows dressed as surgeons, serrated machetes over scalpels.
This palace wasn't making his grief any better, the idea that Tae would have murderous practitioners in her palace wasn't a happy thought, nor a good indication of what she believed in…
And yet, with his axe in hand, Akira felt Mephisto's power fall over him like a warm cloak as he took in the grotesque room around him.
No sign of Akechi unfortunately, which meant that the Shadows had separated them, but it did give him a moment to himself to think.
Unless he was being tricked, Goro Akechi was not the Black Mask, and that was an oddly troubling thought.
And… Akechi mentioned his father, casually and without malice, almost as casually as he would have talked about the weather.
Was Masayoshi Shido a good father in this reality? Was that why Akechi was completely clueless about the Metaverse?
Why Loki wasn't hiding beneath Akechi's skin like a parasite?
It certainly would make sense, though now it confirmed that this new Black Mask was truly a rogue element, that Akira's knowledge of the Conspiracy and the future was seemingly useless in solving this new mystery.
Which meant that despite all he had been through, he was right back at square one…
However, right as he went to leave, he found himself hiding with bated breath as a trio of surgical shadows entered, their eyes furious in their search for the escaped "patient."
Akira would not be subdued twice, and the flames forming along the edge of his axe agreed with him, the ghostly visage of Mephisto burning to life on the steel's edge.
With the axe face trailing the ground and a vicious smile, Akira felt more at home than he ever had, his right glove growing claws as he stalked closer to one of the shadows.
They hadn't seen him coming, nor had they seen his hand ripping the mask off of the closest Shadow, a cry of pain being let out by it.
Oh, he had missed this…
"I'll reveal your true form!"
Goro
It was an interesting situation he has found himself in, more entertaining than most of his cases had been.
A school nurse poisoning her charges, a world of cognition shaped like the textbook definition of Gothic, all inside her mind.
Shadowy doppelgangers that manifest from corruption that can be reverted to virtue through violent confrontation.
Now he held a facsimile of Conan Doyle's detective in his head, and was trapped in a padded room with a straight-jacket holding him tight, a mask sitting uselessly on his face with his hands unable to tear it free.
From what he could hear from beyond the reinforced door, the Shadows were claiming he was insane, that he should be lobotomized, not treated.
The fact they looked more akin to mold-covered undead than your typical surgeon, seemed lost on these Shadows, their hunger for his blood evident from their gleeful lust for carnage.
And yet, Goro felt something click together when they said he was insane, like this was familiar…
Not the padded room of course, but the comment, the hateful sneer and violent disregard in the voices of those Shadows.
Except he had no idea why, exactly, but it was familiar…
Ever since he had faced off with Kurusu in his drugged state, and since Goro awoke his Persona, he had been hearing voices at the edge of his hearing.
Sometimes his own voice, sometimes Kurusu's, and other times the voices of people he had never even met before.
But each one struck him like swords through his chest, small feelings emerging in his mind, like... recollection.
And as he sat trapped in the room, he heard that voice again.
A voice so dark and cold, he barely recognized it.
"So, my final enemy is a puppet version of myself… not bad".
He might actually be going insane, but since he couldn't reach up to rip his mask off and summon Hoʊmz, he desperately hoped that Kurusu didn't take his time in rescuing him.
And yet… Kurusu didn't feel like the right name to use for the other boy, a feeling deep in his chest that burned, something… angry.
Something… wistful.
"Kurusu… You had a different name, didn't you? Before, I mean... I called you something… but what was it? What did I forget? Why do I know you? " Goro muttered aimlessly to the ceiling, a storm of pain ripping through his mind as the light in the room shifted to red, electronic rods rising from the walls as he could only watch in confusion.
"We've met before…"
"Beginning electro-shock therapy."
A thought to consider another time, his eyes rolling shut as the electricity coursed through his veins, his body collapsing from the stringent torture.
Akira had thrown himself straight into battle, but he didn't feel alone as he once had, a presence forming within his mask as Mephisto's form appeared in a blaze of hellish flames, the demon's face drawn in a nefarious smirk as a circle of flames began to surround Akira and his newfound opponents.
No running away, that was the game's rules, not for himself or his enemies.
With Fleurs du Mal at hand, Akira was more than alright with that; he felt invincible.
"Careful with such thoughts young one, lest someone disabuse you of such belief. However unneeded, these cretins hold no threat, mere playthings, but keep thy arrogance to a medium. Without delay, let us commence." Mephisto said with a dark cackle as the overcoat it wore tore away, a pair of bone wings shooting out of it's back, almost like one had ripped the flesh off a vulture's wings.
"No patient may leave! The Angel demands it!" One of the Shadows screeched out as their forms all crumbled, darkness falling away to reveal forms he knew, and one he didn't.
The long, sly form of the Makami, the seductive and serpentine form of the Lamia, and a Shadow he didn't recognize.
It looked much like a warrior, but with armor made of straw rather than metal, its bony fingers wrapped around a fierce-looking sickle.
Looking over them, he almost swore heard Oracle's voice in his head.
"Lamia! Curse is no use!"
Fortunately that wasn't the only tool at his disposal, his focus razor-sharp.
"Mephisto! Maragion!" Akira cried out as the Demon merely snapped it's fingers, a wave of flame bellowing out from it's wings as the Shadows were struck back, the straw-man seeming to take great damage from it in particular.
He believed Futaba once called it 'Super Effective.'
However, all three still stood as they turned their fury onto him, the Lamia seeming to be first in their vengeance.
A physical strike, her wicked claws aiming for his gut as Akira barely ducked out of the way, the strike cleaving through the air next to him as he took a shallow breath.
The Makaki began to glow a frightening color then as Akira tried to regain his balance, a worrisome ticking sound filling the dungeon as Akira felt the room grow unpleasantly warm…
"Oh shit, Makami is nuclear-"
And the Makami exploded in a mushroom cloud of energy, a blast of radioactive heat scorching Akira's form as tried his best to shield himself from the sudden blast, only to find blood trickling down from his nose in waves.
He couldn't tell how much that hurt him, but he felt a pressure on his body that wasn't there before, he needed to be faster, and he needed to stop making mistakes.
He knew that Makami held Nuclear skills, and he felt stupid that he hadn't expected a Freila.
Fortunately, Mephisto held the same weaknesses as Arsène had, Ice and Bless being his crux, so while the Nuclear assault might have been painful, it wasn't crippling.
The straw warrior tried to strike at Akira in his moment of vulnerability, but the flaming remnants of it's armor threw it's attempt off balance as it fell to the side, trying to roll to no avail.
To his own misfortune, while Akira could hear the muted muttering of the Personas that had once filled his mask, none would come to his call.
Aside from Mephisto.
And Mephisto was recommending he use a spell he had never heard of, and of which he assumed to be a new creation.
Regardless, he had more to do in this palace besides battle these smallfry, so he took a chance.
With a hand to his mask, Akira called out once more, his eyes turning a callous gold.
"Mephisto, Goethe's Omen!" And before his very eyes, he watched as the ground around him began to crack and break away, hordes of animate flame rushing through the cracks to slash and bite away at his enemies, almost like jackals made of hellfire.
The flesh almost seemed to be torn free from the Shadows, tormented screams echoing from them as he knew they were in horrid shape, their flesh burning and decaying as he brought the flames of Hell to level against them.
With a swift move, the Tyrant Pistol was pointed at the Lamia, her eyes going wide in fear and pain as a smirk came to his face, his gun mere inches from her nose.
"This is what we call a Hold-Up. You tell me where to find the boy I came in here with, or I paint that wall with your cold blood. Your choice."
Evidently, Akira was not what they expected.
"N-now hold on, you're a reasonable sort of guy, maybe we can make a dea-" The Lamia tried to bargain, only for the Makami and Strawman to be bathed in her black blood, her eviscerated husk vanishing back into the shadows as her compatriots froze in fear.
The smoke billowing out from the Tyrant's barrel blinded the Shadows, the red eyes of Akira blazing through the smog as he smiled once more.
"Let it be known. I am not a responsible sort of guy. Who's next?"
Neither of the two responded, but he was caught off guard when the body of the Lamia began to reform, her eyes glowing like the sun as her jaws clamped shut around his arm, the gunshot between her eyes still smoking as she slowly healed.
"Shi-"
A loudspeaker spoke as Akira stalked through the halls of the Palace, the walls plastered in horrid excuses for medical advice, directions on how to climb into an oven being one shining example.
"Remember, the Angel alone decides if you live. Your life, and your death, are not your own."
That had been another trend, the Shadows and the Speakers talking of an "Angel", one in control of mortality itself, and he was smart enough to make the connection.
Each Palace Ruler had an inflated sense of worth, assigning a character to themselves, such as Shido declaring himself Samael, Heaven's First Traitor.
He could only assume Tae was meant to be Azrael, the Angel of Death, considering the Shadows insisted that they couldn't die, that SHE wouldn't let them.
And that wasn't a lie either, considering the Shadows kept resurrecting after he killed them, the bite mark on his forearm evidence of that.
He shot them to pieces, chopped them apart, and even began beating them to death with his bare fists, but they would always rise again.
But then Mephisto had come up with a solution, insisting that only the power of Hell could drag down wayward souls, and the Persona wasn't wrong.
So long as Mephisto put them down, they stayed down, but it sadly meant that Akira was running dangerously low on stamina and he wasn't anywhere closer to finding Akechi.
As well, even if he had wanted to leave the other boy behind, the Shadows had taken his phone.
He wondered why his phone had been taken, but not his gun, though Fleurs du Mal was an oddity.
He had found all of their old weapons in a chest in Leblanc' attic, including Fleurs du Mal, but he hadn't been carrying the axe with him that day.
He had left it in the chest with the others, and yet when he had his second awakening, Paradise Lost R had seemingly disappeared, Fleurs du Mal instead heeding his call despite how impossible it was.
Then again, he traveled back in time in a blue room led by a man with a very long nose, and now shared headspace with a Demon from the Middle Ages.
In hindsight, nothing was impossible anymore, but it was still an adjustment; Fleurs du Mal's weight and might over Paradise Lost's swift fury and razor's edge.
Now he was just getting himself lost in thought, one hand pressed firmly against his wounded arm, the other grazing against the wall as he tried to avoid detection, the halls of the castle never ending as he felt the exhaustion overwhelm him.
Once, this palace wouldn't have been an issue.
He had never been alone before, and it showed as Mephisto's power began to wane, the full weight of his injuries finally beginning to hit him as Akira took a shallow breath to still his beating heart.
He couldn't be too much further, the dungeon couldn't possibly be all this palace held, and yet, it felt like all it was was this grim labyrinth.
He froze then, as a horribly familiar voice spoke out in the silence, his breath stolen from him like the thief he should have been.
"And where are you going, my little Guinea Pig?"
Goro
Goro felt oddly fine and not in as much pain as he should have been in, considering he was electrocuted until his body and mind collapsed.
And yet, he wasn't in the padded cell any longer, the clothes that his awakening had produced were also gone, a clean brown suit having replaced them as he looked around in confusion.
He was seated in a plush compartment, on a train, but not the usual sort.
This appeared to be a turn of the century steam engine train, and Goro was apparently a passenger.
With spades of curiosity, Goro rose and opened the compartment door, expecting to find the aisle of a train and other compartments.
Instead he found a large circular room of blue, a fireplace burning slowly as the light of four separate windows streamed through, each of them showing a different landscape drifting past, as if he were on four separate trains all at the same time.
At the center of the odd room, was a finely made desk, and an older woman, a small boy standing by her side with a book in hand; his golden eyes looked nervous yet eager.
Goro hadn't seen people as odd as them before, he was sure. White hair, glimmering golden eyes and garbed all in blues and golds.
"Curious and curiouser." Goro said with a chuckle as he stepped forward into the odd room, the woman meeting his gaze with something akin to… disappointment?
Had he already disappointed this mysterious woman and her aide?
She merely waved him forward, a scarlet armchair rising up before the desk as Goro took a seat and the hint.
"Welcome, to the Velvet Room. My name is Margaret. This place exists between dream and reality, life and death, and even imagination and expectation. It is a room that only those that are bound by a Contract may enter. Usually my master would be the one to greet you, but with your status as Spare, and the both of you refusing to share, the Velvet Room must split it's resources. My Master attends to the Other, so I shall be accompanying you through your own journey." The woman, Margaret, said as she sat at the other side of the desk, paperwork and knickknacks of various kinds instantly appearing across it's surface.
Goro just stared back at her for a second.
"You must know that everything you just said is incredibly confusing and hard to follow." Goro said simply as he swore he saw a hint of a smile come to Margaret's face, the woman just looking down at a list of documents in response.
"In short, you will embark on a journey, Goro Akechi, and we shall aid you on it. I will handle any and all fusions you may conduct, and young Henry here shall handle your Compendium and Itemization needs." Margaret said as she gestured to the young boy, who just looked happy to be included at all.
"I already have it started! I mean, I have to do some revisions, but I'm ready to begin!" Henry said with excitement as he pushed the book forward, a familiar illustration on the page.
A figure with a long coat, a cap casting a shadow over his face, and glowing eyes.
Hoʊmz, written in a finely drawn signature, yet there seemed to be something erased underneath it.
"However, you are still at just the beginning of your journey, so we must bid you farewell for now, but know we shall be watching your progress. Know that you may be trapped now, but this Game is ever shifting."
And before Goro could try to ask any questions, he found himself fading away from the strange realm, and back to his reality.
His mind, however, still wondered what had been erased.
A Facade So Dire:
The Black Mask was close. The two Persona Users had been separated by the Shadows, making their approach even easier.
Even better, the one with the dark hair was injured and tired, making him far easier to pick off than before.
He hadn't even noticed their approach just yet, which made lining up a shot even easier.
A breath, and this interloper would be gone forever.
"Anyone ever told you, it's rude to shoot a man in the back?"
An armored figure was behind them, a demonic helmet meeting their face as the pistol was torn clean from their grip, a malevolent energy flowing around the stranger.
"I don't like cheap shots."
Notes:
A.N
Any further flashbacks to the first timeline will be labeled F.G, as in First Game. That is all
Chapter 11: A Fiddle of Gold Against Your Soul
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter XI: A Fiddle of Gold Against Your Soul
Kōriyama, Japan, 2004
"Condor, why are you helping Kuraim? He wants to destroy everything!"
"Because Hawk, he's my father."
Goro Akechi had learned of heroism like many children in Japan, through television.
Phoenix Ranger Featherman R, a show centering on a group of youths learning teamwork and friendship, but he had always seen it in a different way.
Rather than armored avengers, he saw figures of justice, willing to fight against even the most heinous monsters.
And not willing to give in, even when one of their own betrayed them, the tactician Black Condor.
Goro had always loved the character, because while his powers were less than his allies, he was never weaker than them.
His greatest strength was his cool composition and his intelligence, and Goro had always longed to be like that, able to handle any situation so long as he was smart.
And yet, that view had changed when Phoenix Rangers Featherman Void had released, the film promising to reveal the truth of who had killed Green Toucan and Purple Cockatoo's parents, and the identity of the monster named Void.
The murderous monster, Void, wasn't a monster at all… It was Black Condor, all along, the hero having worn a different mask to hide his actions from his teammates.
He had lied to the entire team, had killed friends and family of theirs, and had betrayed them to their greatest enemy…
Despite it all, Condor had still pretended that all was well, that he hadn't become the very thing he had sought to destroy.
Ignorant to the fact that he had become the villain of their story, not the hero he had impersonated.
"Kuraim… I did all of this to gain his truth, to make him regret what he did to me… But even in that, I've failed…" Condor had stood cornered by their enemies, the rest of the team, and Red Hawk, begging for him to join them, to help them defeat the Dark Lord Kuraim.
And yet, as Black Condor stood before them, the glass of his visor broken to reveal crimson eyes, the traitor refused to come with them.
"Condor…"
"Hawk… All of you… Don't let this all be for nothing, don't let all the people I've hurt… rest uneasy. Defeat Kuraim for me… Please. Bring him… to justice."
Goro had waited for over a week for Void's premiere, to finally learn the truth, to see the final chapter of Black Condor's story, as the marketing had said.
His mother had even been off work early that night, staying up with him to watch it.
And to stare at Goro when he was silent as the credits fell away, a dark screen similar to the darkness that Black Condor had drowned in.
"Go-Chan? Didn't you like it?" Chiyo Akechi had asked with a curious glance at her young son, the boy holding silent as he held his toy mask in hand, the black bird's head squished tight as Goro watched the screen grow dark, the boy usually so much more animated after having watched Featherman.
And yet, now he was silent, his fingers slowly crushing the mask of his favorite character, tears beginning to roll down his little face as she brought him close, her embrace being enough to draw sobs out from him.
"It's okay Goro, Black Condor did the right thing in the end." She tried to reassure him, having remembered the boy's childhood basically centered around the Dark Hero, only to see the character die so sadly.
It likely was horrible for him to watch.
And yet.
"Condor was a traitor…"
The next morning, Chiyo had been surprised to find several full garbage bags by their front door, almost every single piece of Featherman merchandise or posters Goro had owned, all of them with Black Condor on it.
When she peeked into his room, the boy was still sound asleep, and she looked to the furthest wall of his room, where once a giant poster of the Featherman team had been.
Except now, the end of the poster had been torn right off, a clean break.
It was clear to her then, and every time Goro spoke of the characters after that, that Black Condor was not a Hero to Goro anymore.
So, with a broken mask in hand, Chiyo just looked up ideas for his birthday.
The Red Hawk mask looked like a good idea.
"Wake up Patient 24,601. Your recovery has only just begun." A cattle prod to the ribs woke Goro from his restless journey, the comfort of the train of blue gone as he awoke a prisoner once more, one of the Surgical Shadows striking him a blow to the head as two others watched.
Sadism was evidently in their training, the Shadow bringing the prod down on Goro's knees as he felt the tip burn straight through his outfit's material, his flesh turning black as he felt an unholy pain course through his bones, the mask of the Shadow being his only focus as he felt an unnatural hatred flood his mind.
'This whelp seems to think I'm on the menu… Time to show him how very wrong he is…"
And yet, it felt wrong, that cold voice. Like a virus infecting his mind, he saw flashes of black lines across his vision, like a vignette clouding his world.
With the patience of a saint, Goro began to breathe slower, knowing these were only reflections of darkness, they knew not what they did.
Through the blistering torment, Goro only vaguely noticed that the furthest Shadow said something incomprehensible, the others following as they left him alone in his torture, a coldness all he could feel in his left leg as the electrical burn began to settle into his flesh.
And yet, just as he began to waver back to the land of dreams, he saw another Shadow enter his padded cell, this one with an odd detail.
Rather than golden eyes shining through it's mask, they were an odd, but shimmering silver.
With a dry throat attesting to his subpar treatment, Goro tried to be polite.
"G-good evening."
The Shadow closed the door behind it.
Akira stiffened, Mephisto screaming warnings in his mind as he pressed himself against the wall, his eyes alert and wary.
He'd heard Tae's Shadow, he knew her voice anywhere, and yet he didn't know where she'd come from.
"Oh, did I startle you? Or, perhaps you merely prefer your real name?" Shadow Tae's voice spoke once more, the concade everywhere and anywhere as he felt dread begin to soak into his skin. "Akira Kurusu, right?"
The Shadow knew who he was, he should have expected that, at least the little bit she knew of him.
And at that he took off running, like so many times before, his coat flapping in the wind as it followed in his stead.
And yet, he took note of hundreds of screens lining the walls, a hooded figure with golden eyes with a sharp grin, watching him.
"Where are you going little mouse? Looking for a hole to hide in? I'm afraid you'll find no safe haven in my halls." Shadow Takemi said with a sharp sneer as Akira flexed his senses, trying to get some indication of a Safe Room, yet coming up fruitless.
"I fear I am not a Seeker, Young One. Yet even one such as I can tell, she gives us no quarter of reprieve. Remain wary, thou are never alone." Mephisto spoke out to him then, the frustration of Navigating without a Navigation Persona hitting Akira like a truck, Mephisto's spectral form beginning to waver in the corner of his eye.
And yet, Akira pushed forward, the Dark Angel's eyes firmly on him as he refused to fall into her hands once again.
"Tell me Kurusu… why do you wear that mask? What do you have to hide from me?" Shadow Takemi spoke again as the dungeons grew darker, a chill spreading through his veins as Akira snarled through the growing mental anguish, a barrage of sounds assaulting him all of a sudden.
Ah, the Operating Theater…
Cells full of emancipated bodies, drained of their blood as they stared at him with pitiful yet demanding eyes.
Others weren't quite so lucky, screaming in agony as they lay in separate pieces, a familiar looking Shujin student crying softly as he held his own severed head in his arms.
Akira thought his name might have been Hikagi, but he couldn't recall it due to his attention being on retaining his lunch.
In the distance he heard wild electricity, likely some demented form of shock therapy as he began to trudge through what seemed like a river of blood, a cracked door providing the tide.
'Pediatrics'
With clenched teeth, Akira walked past the sound of horrid wails and prayers to an unloving god, resolved to end this perversion of care and at the very least try to save his former friend from the edge.
He took solace in the fact this was her distortion, meaning she might not be an actual murderer, at least she wouldn't be if he could stop her quickly enough.
And a part of him, though he knew Treasures were not on the table this time, wondered what Tae's Treasure would have been…
What distorted her heart, and yet also broke her free from Yaldabaoth's influence?
"Admiring my work? I have so much more to show you…"
With his own blood mixing like wine with that of the cognitions, Akira felt disgust as he beheld the true corruption of Tae Takemi.
But he would not fail her.
Would not lose this Game.
Not again.
"Show me your worst."
Goro expected to be struck, for the Shadow to attack him in some way, like it's fellows had before it.
And yet, he found silence accompanying them, the Shadow just… staring at him, not even moving an inch, like it was reading him.
"Can… Can I help you?" Goro asked it then, hoping to jarr some kind of reaction out of the strange Shadow, even if it only attacked him in return.
Instead, it spoke.
"Is… Is Justice… real?"
A question, and one that completely caught Goro off guard as the Shadow almost seemed more uncomfortable than him, like something was troubling it for it to ask such a philosophical question.
"I, uh, I like to believe it exists. Sometimes it just happens, like Karma, but other times… Other times we have to bring about justice, because not everyone is so fortunate. I seek justice, for everyone that doesn't have the strength to do so." Goro said plainly then as his knee began to blister, the burned flesh tearing as soon as he moved even the slightest bit, but he supposed it was his penance for long speeches.
"You remind me of… Of someone I once knew… Why do you… Why do you help people?" The Shadow asked him as it stepped closer, Goro feeling oddly like it was frowning through the mask, though he assumed it didn't truly look like this bloodied butcher.
But that question was difficult.
"I suppose… I help people, because it's the right thing to do. Perhaps I'm not truly selfless, as I enjoy helping others, and I suppose a truly good person gets no joy from helping people, but ever since I was a child, I've wanted nothing but to be…" Goro said as he slowly shifted to a more comfortable position on the floor, his neck popping painfully as he pondered why he walked this path even when it hurt him time and again.
"What exactly?"
"A hero." And that was the complete and absolute truth. He enjoyed being the one swooping in for the rescue, to defy fate and save people, to be the one breathlessly thanked as he refused any and all repayment.
The Shadow made a sound then, almost like it was thinking, but Goro's eyes began to grow weary from all of this… treatment.
And he supposed that since this Shadow didn't seem intent on torturing him, he could get a small nap…
"By the way… What did you need? Not that I don't mind your company?" Goro asked with a pained yawn as it stepped closer, a hand raised upwards as he almost thought it planned on grabbing him.
And yet, it instead wrapped it's long fingers around the surgical mask it wore, and tore it away in a flash.
A wave of darkness blasted forward as the Shadow unmasked itself, and Goro saw only a bright light.
The trident sliced away at his arm as Akira just roared through the pain, Mephisto's flames fading as he refused to bow before the Shadows.
The familiar form of Berith stood before him, but it's eyes held none of the protective warmth they once had, the Knight abandoning its steed as Akira found his breath fading.
And yet, he refused to bow.
"There is no escape… Surrender, and the Angel shall make your treatment quick." The Berith growled out as it brought the trident back around, Akira swinging his axe suddenly then, the axe's face hooking itself up under the trident's points as they were locked in combat.
And Akira was out for blood.
"She's no angel." Akira snarled out as he threw a kick out at the Shadow, the sudden move throwing the Berith back as Akira drew the axe back and brought it's edge swinging at the knight's helmet.
And yet, it merely caught the axehead in it's grip, and the Berith began to squeeze, cracks forming in the metal as a primal hate began to spread through Akira.
This axe wasn't his to lose.
And yet, while he had hoped to have Mephisto lend his aid on crushing the knight, it was an unfamiliar voice that spoke to him now.
And considering how many Personae he has fused in the past, an unfamiliar voice was jarring to say the least.
Behind the Berith, in the corner of his vision, Akira saw a figure in a dark cloak.
Shapeless and vague, it just seemed to watch him, patiently.
" Pathetic."
"Excuse me?!" Akira snarled out in question as he brought the axe back down again, a furious series of strikes at the Berith as it kept dodging out of the way of his blows, and Akira swore that this Shadow had never put up such a fight before.
"To think, one that once gave you strength beyond measure, now orchestrated that which shall be your end. Amusing." The figure said with something that could perhaps be called a laugh, a boney arm coming free from it's mass as it seemed to be holding something in it's fleshless fingers.
It was… his mask, the original one, the white that melted away, the black that had been an accessory but later consumed it.
"How… how do you have that? Who are you?" Akira cried out as the Trident came forward in a far too close strike, the youth barely getting away with a brief slice as he tried to fight for his life along with entertaining this mystery Persona.
Except, it was slightly familiar, in a way he couldn't name.
"I suppose I have a fondness for the lost and forgotten… But it matters not, I have arrived in your moment of need.
It is a pleasure; Trickster."
And Akira could barely breathe as the entity flew into his mask, his entire being burning as he felt an unholy pain, his hands shining a blazing red as he stared down at them, the axe going flying as he watched his black gloves burn away.
His bare hands began to grow black as the skin almost seemed to rot, his gaze horrified as his flesh began to fall away, a shining skeleton being all that remained.
Until a forest of dark thorns blasted out of his chest, the thorns wrapping around his hands and wrists until they almost seemed to replace his flesh.
The thorns and vines felt… good.
"Say my name Trickster… Let us end this posturing."
With a renewed spirit and a gleaming grin, Akira just smiled at the Berith as it finally struck home, it's trident sinking into his chest with a deafening thud.
And yet, despite the grievous wound, no blood came forward… just something similar to ink, trickling down his vest as he chuckled.
He could get used to this.
"Come forth… Mors!" Akira called aloud as the cloaked figure emerged, only for the hood to fall away and reveal a blackened skeleton wrapped in dead vines, gleaming white eyes shining in hollow sockets.
"And so it was said, that when Man escaped death, that the Reaper came for his due."
Akira just held a hand to his gaze, crimson eyes shining through his fingers as he felt that same tar begin to fall like tears.
"Drag him to Hell! Pallida Sanctum!"
"I was not meant to harm." A voice in a bright oblivion, Goro's mind confused as he was seemingly floating in an endless void, but he didn't have a body either, just a floating consciousness.
"I was like the others, made of grace and light, made to serve. We were told to stay away, but we were so curious… What your kind was like… Our Father forbade it, said we could not leave, but the first of us… The Bright One… He left, flew so far away that we thought he was gone forever… He became something else entirely, a Demon Lord, and yet… some of our kind wondered if he was not right, that we should follow the Humans to freedom from our tyrannical father. I was foolish, I believed that even through his hubris, my Father was mine, and he would listen to reason. I went to him, begging for him to let us go, to let us make our own mistakes as Helel once had… But he struck me down, erased me from existence… And yet, I persisted in the shadows, nameless and blind… Until you spoke to me, said those words… You remind me of Helel… I was named Uzziel, and I was too hopeful."
And at that, the light died away and Goro beheld the figure of a blonde Angel, her outfit sensual and teasing, yet it seemed more the attire of a resigned prisoner than a guardian Angel.
With a shaky hand, she tore the blindfold away from her face, a pair of shining silver eyes meeting Goro's gaze as he felt something solid in her eyes.
Something otherworldly, perhaps a true example of Divinity, but no matter what it was, it gave him a new sense of self.
"You who broke through my distortion, who reminded me that Justice is not a delusion… So long as you will have me, my wings are yours."
He could feel her settle in his mask, her name burning into his mind, as they truly became one.
The Angel Uzziel, of the Justice Arcana.
The Most Faithful of the Heavenly Host, and the first to die at her creator's hand.
Goro began waking then, the feeling of being caressed carrying him back to the land of the living, the wondrous light fading as he felt the pain return.
For once in far too long a time, Goro let someone else take care of him.
"Interesting… When you face adversity, you gain strength… You are truly my most valuable subject Kurusu…" Shadow Tae said with something akin to admiration as Akira tore his way through another padded cell, his goal being to find Akechi, but so far he had found only Shadows and Cognitions.
And the entire time, Shadow Tae had been mocking him over her intercom, and Akira found himself no closer to his missing ally.
Until… He found a broken cell, the padding in it ripped to shreds, the door having been launched far off it's hinges as if something had evidently escaped.
If he had to guess, Akechi had found his own way out, but where was the other boy… That was a harder guess.
"You know, I let you escape to see if you would survive in my laboratory, but not only have you killed those I swore to protect, you gain only power from my attempts… Perhaps it's best to end this game of ours, Kurusu."
With a wary glance, Akira steeled himself, ready to be ambushed or attacked in some way.
Only for the reinforced door at the end of the corridor to swing open, a cold breeze fluttering past.
"I would like to speak with you, Kurusu. Just you and I. The doors will allow you passage, and my employees won't bother you. Come and see me…" Shadow Sae requested as the speaker cut off with a scratch, and Akira considered the idea, to go and have a meeting with a Palace Ruler…
"Young one, to even consider this is naught but foolishness. Thou must seek out thine comrade, then we may strike back at that foul practitioner!" Mephisto cried out in his skull as Akira considered the point that Mephisto was likely right, this was almost certainly a trap.
However, Tae's Shadow had this entire palace wired like a bug zapper, if she wanted to trap him, she would have done it already a thousand times over.
"It is a tempting option Trickster, one dangerous yet possibly fruitful. You agree, she need not lure you in to hurt you, so why the summon? Perhaps this Shadow has a piece to be said. I say we entertain her request, but remain onguard and vigilant." Mors said his piece as Akira began to think over it, even though he wondered about Mors.
It wasn't a typical Persona, and he had awakened it, not fused or gained it… So was it like Robin Hood then?
Robin Hood had been Akechi's second Persona, he had been awakened, and as far as Akira knew, Akechi had no knowledge of the Velvet Room.
Yet, Akechi had somehow awakened to two separate Personae… Perhaps he now had the same luck?
And yet, the mystery would have to wait, as he needed to get the answer to his current predicament before doing anything else.
Walking into an almost certain-to-be trap, and sit down with the Shadow of Tae Takemi.
He missed when things were simple…
The office was odd, for he saw traces of the office Tae had once had in Yongen-Jaya, and yet traces of something entirely different and ghoulish.
Her Shadow was passive, just watching him from across her desk, the shadow of her hood leaving her details hidden, but he could clearly see those golden eyes glaring at him.
He would not play this game with her, even if it meant he had to speak first.
"You wanted to see me, so say your spiel." Akira said with a dark gaze as he summoned his axe, the presence of it on the desk a welcome friend if he might need it
"I thought you would be more fun, that you could be my little guinea pig… But you do nothing but ruin my research… So I'm cutting you loose, Kurusu." Shadow Tae said with a critical eye as she held up a hand, his cellphone clenched between her fingers like it were a playing card.
"You see, I was confused at first, seeing you and the Detective arrive at my lab, when you're on guard duty currently… Then when my Assistant brought your phone to me, well I saw what she saw." And hadn't that been a shocker, a Cognitive version of Shiho, which meant that Tae really did have something planned for the girl, and made him laugh a little.
Everything had changed so much, but he was once again in a Castle in Shujin, and betrayed by a Cognition of Shiho, the girl he meant to help.
However, he froze when Tae showed him his phone's screen, and the Metanav open and blinking, her details on it…
"You used this to travel here, it's obvious. You came here to stop me, but that isn't the daydream you imagined, is it? However, I am fair, so I will do for you just as I did the Detective. I will give you a choice." Shadow Tae said with a dangerous look in her eye as she set his phone down on the desk, a smile on her twisted lips shining like bone.
"I give you your phone, and you leave this place. You never come back, and you forget all about Goro Akechi… You let me keep him, and I'll let you go."
Akira wouldn't do that, even if this Akechi hasn't even introduced himself yet, Akira refused to abandon their Crow for a second time.
"Or, you act like a Fool, and try to save him… I destroy this phone, and you are thrown back into the dungeons to rot with your friend… You decide if he's worth dying for, but he is mine, no matter your choice." Tae said with a snarl as she took his phone back, his eyes intense as he considered the choices, despite how much he hated even doing so.
Akira was alone, Akechi was somewhere off on his own, and Akira was slowing down.
While awakening Mors had given him a boost, the usual awakening exhaustion was weighing on him.
Akira would not be able to keep this up, let alone fight against her or work his way up from the dungeons again.
"Of course, there's always my choice… I could just use this phone, couldn't I? Go to your world, and show them how much I care about their health… Leave you here to rot, while I go and show your friends and family the gift I have for them… I wonder what would happen... If I pressed it?" Shadow Tae said with a sick glee as she held his phone out then, the 'Return' button clear to see and highlighted, her finger hovering teasingly over it as he held his breath.
Akira had no idea if it would even work, a Shadow using the Metanav… But it wasn't something he was willing to let happen irregardless…
"Live or die, Akira Kurusu."
He felt something break inside him, as Akira stood and let out the hellish breath he had been holding.
He only hoped it was all worth it.
"I'll take your deal."
Notes:
The Grand Compendium
Mephisto
Arcana: Fool
Background: A being bearing the likeness of the Demon, Mephistopheles, and the wily emissary of Hell, engaging Humanity in barter and trade. Infamous for his bargain with Johann Georg Faust, Mephisto created the idea of a Faustian Bargain. It is said that Mephisto will take any deal, even one to protect a mortal.
Mors
Arcana: Death
Background: The Roman God of Death. Mors is the second son of Nox, twin brother of Somnus, and a God of true equality. Poor or rich, quiet or infamous, all fall under Mors' hands, though he is known to make exceptions. He loves a good wager, and even once fought the hero Heracles for the life of a dear friend.
Hoʊmz
Arcana: Fool
Background: A being based off the main character of Arthur Conan Doyle's novels, Sherlock Holmes. The world's greatest detective, and the truest example of a hero plagued by his own inadequacies. While brilliant, it is said that he is quick to lose touch with reality.
Angel
Arcana: Justice
Background: Uzziel, the Angel of Faith. A once stern believer in the twisted control that Yaldabaoth desired, she was killed by her creator after questioning his will. One of the most kind and virtuous of the Angels, she holds great shame for her time spent as a Shadow.
Chapter 12: The Devil You Know
Chapter Text
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Hunger Arc: Part III
Chapter XII: The Devil You Know
“Naoya… What's going on?
“It’s started, there’s no stopping it now.”
“Hey, let me go.”
“This power… is mine…”
September 14th, 1989
"Subject has been envitalized, bringing it around in ten seconds."
A muffled voice, men in white coats as they crowded around a cold table, a young girl restrained and shaking as the lights began to dimmer and her soul quiver.
Her eyes opened full of fright and confusion, her mind blank and barren as she tried to make sense of where she was, or what she was.
"Subject's biology is complete, the chance of cellular deterioration dropping by the minute. Cognitive Imprinting at 60% complete." A man in a black suit said swiftly as he watched her closely, the girl's eyes slowly opening as he could only smile at the confusion in her eyes, the tears threatening to tear their way from her horrified gaze.
"Who am I…?"
It was all going to plan.
"You… are Hope."
Some Time Later…
Welcome to the Customer Service Line of the Saeki Electronics, Biological, and Energy Corporation, I'm afraid all our operators are currently busy, please hold for-
CORPORATE OVERRIDE ACCEPTED: Yellow
USER. H: 1 20 20 5 13 16 20 9 14 7 3 15 14 14 5 3 20 9 15 14 16 1 19 19 3 15 4 5 9 3 1 18 15 19
USER. Y: 18 5 20 21 18 14 9 14 7 3 1 12 12 19 9 7 14 8 1 19 20 21 18 3 15 14 14 5 3 20 9 15 14 5 19 20 1 2 12 9 19 8 5 4 9 19 20 8 5 12 9 14 5 19 5 3 21 18 5
USER. Y: Line secured, reprogramming successful?
USER. H: Indeed, Subject Despair has been wiped of its initial programming with minimum injury and no witnesses.
USER. Y: Excellent. Sessions with Hope IV have exceeded expectations, estimation for Project Hope completion is at two weeks. Is there an estimate for the continuation of Project Despair?
USER. H: A week at most, the reintroduction session is set to begin shortly.
USER. Y: Ensure Despair is free to act, and note results. The Mother has made it clear that Project Despair is a priority. It is not to be controlled, this is it's first time being truly alone.
USER. H: Acknowledged.
USER. Y: The Mother has also requested that the history of Project Despair be wiped, though ease of access documents are to be kept.
USER. H: Understood.
USER. Y: Hold on. There’s another signal here.
USER. H: Someone is listening in?
USER. -7hA6: I know what you did.
USERS DISCONNECTED---
October 5th, 1989
Grainy camera footage kicked into life as an almost sinister looking man in a dark suit appeared on the screen, his eyes dark and colder than a corpse.
"The date is October fifth, the year of nineteen-eighty-nine. Hastur speaking. We have begun development of the secondary project.
Mother Yidhra has said that Project Hope can not be our only option, and has expressed fear that it should fail and all of our research would be rendered pointless as a result.
Thus, we have begun the second of six additional projects, whereas Project Hope would-" At that point the man's speech turned garbled as the tape quality became sharp and confusing as dark shapes moved across the footage and the audio became an unholy sonada of ominous sounds.
And then it was normal once more, the man's smiling, devilish face clear to see as he came closer to the camera's face, the whites of his eyes almost nonexistent.
"Project Despair, would bring an end to life as we know it, and bring about the next world. A last resort, of course. The subject," At that, the man turned around to reveal a glass pod of odd scarlet liquid, what looked to be a fetus floating suspended within. "It's almost ready."
"When it's genetic structure is stable, we can begin."
And after that, only static. The sound of glass breaking echoing out, and the lone cry of an infant.
Audio Log 28251
"Now then, Hope, tell me what is in this picture."
"Doggy."
"Good. Now, what is this?"
"Car."
"Now, what has happened to the doggy?"
"It… it's not moving."
"And what happened to the doggy, Hope?"
"It… Is this… Death?"
"The doggy died, Hope. How does that make you feel, that this sweet doggy died like that?"
…
"I don't like it."
"Death is a part of life, Hope, no matter what you feel… but with us helping you, it doesn't have to be."
"You… You mean we could save the doggy?"
"Yes, Hope… We could. We could save everyone… If you just help us, things will be so much better for everyone…"
-Doctor Hastur assisting in the programming and compliance of Subject Hope
February 1st, 1990
Another tape began to play, the image of a younger man appearing, his gaze just as cold and horrid as his comrade's were.
He began to speak as the camera moved away from him to focus on a young boy instead, the boy's red hair hanging limply as he stared at a faceless doll clenched tightly in his hands.
"The date is February first, the year of nineteen-ninety.
Dagon speaking. Subject Despair has stabilized, it's DNA forming a perfectly normal model of a young Male's genome.
As it pertains to nature, the subject is less than a month old, and yet the accelerated process has caused the subject to instead have the physicality and mental acuteness of a five year old boy.
Subject is unaware of anything outside of it's programming, and behaves akin to a doll, awaiting orders. While this is just as Mother Yidhra desired, I have my doubts that such an empty doll can accomplish what we need of it, let alone that it will remain undetected.
However, I am not the project head, and thus all I can do is watch over the subject's growth… Our own little Antichrist…"
And yet, as Dagon finished his words and turned once more from the camera, he found blazing red eyes staring at him with a hateful gaze.
The subject had heard him through thirty feet of reinforced glass.
Just as expected.
Audio Log 28292
"Beginning session. Despair, how are you feeling today?"
"I am operating at peak efficiency."
"Remember your training, speak like a person."
"I feel fine, Doctor Hastur."
"Good. You know today is Christmas, correct?"
"Yes, a domestic holiday to celebrate unity and exchange property between deserving individuals."
"Correct Despair. I have a gift for you, I've brought a friend for you to meet."
"A friend, Doctor?"
"Yes, her name is Hope. The Mother has great expectations for both of you."
"Say Hello, Despair."
…
"Doctor, I would like to be moved away from Subject Hope."
"Oh? And why is that, Despair?"
…
"Despair, answer me."
…
"Hmm…"
...
"I'm sorry Doctor… I don't know what came over me…"
"Despair, do not apologize, my boy. You did just fine…"
"Dagon, inform Yig that work on Hope II can begin."
-Doctor Hastur observing the first meeting of Subjects Hope and Despair, as well as the Termination of Hope I.
December 25th, 1998
The researcher from before reappeared in the next tape, Dagon as he was known, the man's gaze annoyed yet pleased in an odd mixture, the room dark around him aside from a small penlight.
"The date is December twenty-fifth, the year of nineteen-ninety-eight.
Dagon speaking. Subject Despair has reached the next level of cellular acceleration and now holds the mind and body of a sixteen year old boy. Yidhra has stated that the acceleration shall be halted and the subject will age naturally from here on.
Yidhra as well changed the particulars of Projects Hope and Despair. Whereas before they would have merely served as weaponized agents, Yidhra has declared they instead act as infiltrators. Despite arguing against it, as Subject Despair is nothing more than the maniac that we made it, Yidhra refused to listen and said that the thing will be more than capable of the task.
We were to begin infusing the two with social skills today, having the two subjects meet and spend time together." At that, Dagon's gaze fell away as he turned the small light off, his face hidden from view but his breath still pulsing in the darkness.
"Despair snapped Hope's neck, killing the girl almost as soon as it saw her. Yidhra said that it wasn't a concern, and merely provided a new sample to use in recreating Subject Hope.
The fact her golden boy proved it's brutality went unnoticed apparently, as she just smiled at the creature."
The sound of a lighter flick could be heard as a small flame appeared, the cigarette's light casting a brief glance to his face as Dagon took a long drag.
"Subject Despair was only confused when it killed Subject Hope, like it hadn't even realized it broke her little neck… I insist that despite what Yidhra says, Despair is a threat."
And then there was a knock at his door.
Dagon's eyes merely closed slowly as he brought the cigarette back up as the door opened, a cold faced young man with long red hair walking into the room.
"Mother says your assistance is no longer needed." Subject Despair said coldly as it stepped closer, Dagon merely letting out a foolish prayer to whatever would listen to the pleas of a man that helped create his own killer.
"May I find-"
And at that, Dagon found a hand impaled clean through his chest, and he felt the breath leaving his body as the world around him spun into a kaleidoscope of blood and torn flesh.
And the unholy bastard's eyes gleaming back at him.
The Ideal World, 1996
Naoya was confused.
He found himself in what looked to be a cathedral of sorts, stained glass specters reflecting across the marble floor, images of saints and demons shining with the light of a sun that didn't seem quite right.
As well, he seemed to be alone, despite the fact he swore he had just been with his friends, he had-
"You opened your eyes to the truth, Naoya. This Path is not an easy one, and I am afraid there is no way back to where you began."
Lucifer, his other self, and a presence within his mind like a person standing there in the center of his brain.
He knew Lucifer, and he saw so much more…
It was odd, as Naoya knew this Persona was not the actual Lucifer, the Morning Star that had defied the Demiurge and gifted Humanity with Free Will, He Who Would Become Satanael.
And yet, Lucifer was, and Naoya saw so much…
A shining silver city of light, an army of angels that sought to do good, led astray and destroyed by a twisted creator.
A war, brothers and sisters divided as they shed blood for the future and for their father that couldn’t care whether they prospered or burned to cinder as they fell.
Helel falling and allowing himself to lose the war, to move on and find his own solace in a world beyond.
How a part of him fell away like a feather from his burning wings, forming a new being of darkness, Satan.
How Helel had become Satanael to force the Demiurge out through a violent rebellion, only when reality had settled and freedom established, that he chose to instead wear the mask of Lucifer, a Light Bringer rather than a Daemonic Avenger.
Naoya knew all of this, even though he knew this Fallen Archangel was merely a reflection of the true Lucifer, he had been given a gift from Lucifer.
The gift of knowledge, and he shuddered to think what all of this meant on a larger scale, or why exactly he was meant to know all of this. What the depths of his connection with the Fallen One truly meant…
"I see you've been awakened, I've been waiting for you, we need to talk." A voice unexpected, a familiar figure slinking out from behind a pillar, his eyes an unfamiliar and threatening blazing red, as if the fires of creation had been condensed into those shining orbs.
Hidehiko, his sunglasses discarded, his uniform darkened and seemingly burnt, his gaze cold and lifeless despite the flames that illuminated them.
And for a reason Naoya couldn't understand, Lucifer said he was a threat, the Demon Lord appearing and raising a flaming javelin at his friend, and Naoya oddly couldn't argue the point.
Hidehiko just raised his hands then, a low smile forming, the image of shadowy wings following from behind him as he approached.
"Careful Naoya, I'm not your enemy here, in fact, I'd say I'm the only option you have left." Hidehiko said with a strange tone as Lucifer seemingly felt something familiar in the other boy, the Demon vanishing as Naoya's nerves began to settle despite his greater suspicion.
"Hidehiko… What is this place…? What did you get us into?" Naoya said with a breath as he looked around, the sky outside the church being an oddly picturesque blue, almost like that a child would draw.
"This world is not the one that you left, Naoya, but rest assured, this is not my doing. This is the first true conversation we’ve had in some time, so do not hold my manipulation of that game against me." Hidehiko said with a frown then as he began to step towards the altair, an image of a colossal being pictured above it, an inhuman being with a halo and several arms.
Naoya didn't recognize the being, but it looked like a strange mixture of an archangel, the god Vishnu, and a suit of armor twisted by a burning forge.
"A different world… I'd ask, but a part of me says you are right… and that you know who did all of this. That you know who wanted us to play that game..." Naoya said with a determined glare as a sad smile came to Hidehiko's face, and Naoya had a sudden understanding about the Joke.
The one about man challenging God and being punished.
"Oh, I know them quite well Naoya, but unless we find the others, there will be no point in hunting down the guilty party." Hidehiko said with a flippant hand twirl as he began to walk towards the cathedral's doors, Naoya following with growing frustration.
"What happened to them? We were all together, and then…"
This was not Mikage-cho, or at least not as he knew it.
Buildings were different, more classical and warm.
The sun shined so bright and beautiful that it looked more like a painting of the sun than the galaxy's greatest star, picturesque and stunning in a way that wasn’t possible.
Even the streets were different, cars driving slowly and carefully with brighter colors and friendlier drivers, people with wide smiles walking down the streets.
And horrid monsters slinking past them, their awful forms walking amongst them as if they were merely dogs out on a walk, jagged fangs dragging against the cold streets as they stalked ever onward.
"Hidehiko… What is this?"
Naoya could only watch in growing horror as the people smiled so grandly, even when the creatures turned their hungry maws to them, tearing them apart and staining the pristine sidewalks in oddly dark blood.
"This is a world of their creation, Naoya. This is their idea of Hope… This is a world that takes and feeds on the innocent. A world that hungers… And if we do not find the others, and destroy this monstrosity of a reality, it will overtake our world forever. Right now, they overlap, one over the other like sheets of paper. But those creatures, Shadows… They are the ink that can bleed through, and they will not let us undo this world of theirs, without a fight that is." Hidehiko explained as Naoya felt the beginnings of some sense of pity, watching these people go to their deaths with gleeful energy, but he only stiffened as a large Shadow began to approach, a giant katana held in hand.
Naoya smiled as he felt that same coin from before appear in his palm, the image of Lucifer imprinted upon it, waiting to be summoned.
Only to freeze as Hidehiko beat him to it, the other boy flipping a bronze and beaten coin into the air with a casual glare, and a dark being began to dig it's way out of the ground.
A being with rotten and decaying flesh dressed in scarlet robes, blood seeming to seep from the cloth itself, the horrible creature just raising a thin hand out to the Shadow as Hidehiko let out a small grin.
And something about this felt horribly familiar.
"Arise… Crowley."
With the shadow felled, the two found themselves stopping before a playground, Naoya's weary legs narrowing in on the table resting there.
However, his mind instead insisted on answers, Hidehiko's calm manner not helping the frantic energy Naoya felt.
He could not pretend that the eagerness he felt to save his friends was truly altruistic, or because he truly cared, but they were his.
And he was theirs.
So he sat down across from Hidehiko, the other boy merely adopting a lazy grin as a gentle breeze fell upon them.
And then… Hidehiko said something.
Naoya couldn't possibly understand it, as it wasn't words, but some odd sound, high pitched and otherworldly…
It was completely and utterly inhuman, and yet… the sound of it felt right.
However, Naoya's confusion merely seemed to displease Hidehiko, the other adopting an oddly sad frown then as he looked anywhere but at Naoya.
"I had hoped you would remember… It would have made things so much simpler." Hidehiko said wistfully then, the flaming scarlet leaving his gaze as only dull burgundy remained, the wind having abandoned his sails as it were.
"Remember... what?" Naoya could only ask, as he didn't recall any hazy memories or any odd feelings that would call to something like that.
And yet, there was a void within his mind, like a piece of his puzzle was missing.
"The first time we met, as our true selves. What came before and what led us here.. Why this is all happening… Because I can't tell you Naoya Toudou, you have to remember."
And yet, that just lit a flame within his skull, a pulsating feeling of wrong, as he had forgotten something horribly important.
As if he had forgotten how to breathe.
And Lucifer withdrew, as if the sight of wistful fury in Hidehiko's eyes was a threat that not even Lucifer would dare face, the Morning Star fading in the night before the uncompromising might of the Serpent.
And yet-
Do you know your name?
A flash of something else, a man in a long coat. A young boy, dark eyes, a dark void of nothing but pain.
And then, the mirage seemed to cease as he found himself facing Hidehiko's knowing eyes, a sad smile growing as he laid a comforting hand on Naoya's shoulder.
"Do not worry Naoya, I have no doubt that you will remember, but it appears it will take it's time. Now, we haven't much time if we wish to avert this world of ruin, we have much to do." Hidehiko said with purpose then as he stood from the bench, Crowley's presence settled over the boy like a second skin, and Naoya felt Lucifer doing the same despite his continuing confusion.
"How do we do that, exactly? I asked earlier, and you just said this world 'hungers'. What the hell does that mean?" Naoya said with growing frustration as they departed the playground, the ghostly figures of small children running past them, the Shadows fortunately ignoring the kids.
"If this all is what I believe it to be, a villainous group has used a machine to merge our reality with their own design. However, such a machine takes time to achieve it’s purpose, and it takes energy. If I am correct, each of our allies has been imprisoned within a tower, guarded by the fiercest Shadows as they're used as human batteries to power the device." And as that was said, Naoya recognized where they were, just down the corner from the Neji Theater, but instead stood a monolithic nightmare of horrid design, a twisting, living… tower.
“Each of them has been trapped with a keep, manifested of their true selves and feeding off their souls, to maintain the illusion of this world and the creatures that call it home.” Hidehiko said simply as Naoya felt a feeling of sheer revulsion from the tower, the otherworldly sense of anger and severe hatred emanating from it like the morning dew.
This tower hated every fiber of his being, and it wanted him to know that.
“Then… why weren’t we… trapped in towers like this?” Naoya asked with a growing steel in his tone as he finally ripped his eyes away from the grotesque obelisk, Hidehiko’s eyes glowing with something similar to recognition.
“Because this world is my opposite, my very being is considered wrong by this world, and it is doing all it can to remove me from it. You, on the other hand, have nothing to feed it, Naoya.” Hidehiko said with a low whisper then as he took off towards the imposing sight, Naoya’s confusion only grew as he became the boy’s shadow, the two bracing themselves for a troubled ascent.
“Some day Hidehiko, you’ll give me a straight answer.”
“Only after you quit calling me by that piteous name.” The elder boy said with a sneer as Naoya was only caught off guard, but he supposed that with how odd Hidehiko was acting, it only felt right to call him by a different name. To distance his old and ever knowing companion with the bright and humorous boy he had befriended and trusted.
From… whoever this person was.
“What would you like me to call you, then?”
The two stopped before the door of the spire, a crimson eye watching them from the flesh of the entrance, but Naoya only had focus for his comrade.
“Call me… Desmond.”
I could almost feel my bond with Hid- Desmond, growing.
The Justice: Rank 2
“We all linger in worlds not our own, it is better to destroy the aberration and burn this pitiful existence at the start…”
A cold, vicious voice rang out as the two traversed through the narrow halls of the tower, Naoya recognizing it as the voice of Masao, but far more harrowing, as if the boy had seen everything good in life destroyed and he was left to stand in the flames.
“Is this…?”
“Yes, this is the Tower of Ira. Here, the soul of Masao Inaba holds him captive, his inner unrest personified in a realm of furious intention. Already I feel it’s influence on me, twisting at me, trying to turn my hand against you… But it’s nothing more than a parlor trick.” Desmond said with a rough smile as he pushed open the door to the next chamber, a series of Shadows appearing before their venture, flaming red eyes and frothing mouths on the beast as they let out a cry of anguish and rage.
With an almost natural ease and the feeling as if they had fought side by side a thousand times over, their coins went flying.
“Crowley!”
“Lucifer!”
Rough, wolflike monsters faced them, long fans dripping with an acidic dribble like blood, Naoya’s mind singing as he felt Lucifer’s wings fall behind him in support, the Morning Star’s light illuminating the room as Crowley let out a horrible wheeze of delight.
And then, with a distorted howl, the wolves surged forward, Naoya’s hand aloft as he exploded in motion, Desmond the same as they met their opposition at their feet.
“Crowley, Maha Agidyne!” Desmond bellowed out as the ravaged Fallen let out a showman’s bow, an ocean of flame surging out from the being’s very flesh, as the wolves found themselves ablaze, but no less determined to tear them apart.
Lucifer would not allow such a pitiful outcome.
“Glacial Blast!” A companion to Crowley’s flames, Naoya brought forth a sudden surge of ice, a blizzard flying from Lucifer as they flames began to circle around the frost, the two elements clashing and ravaging against each other like competing predators as the Shadows found themselves trapped within the elemental cagematch.
And yet the Shadow persisted, a bold wolf charging at Naoya as he merely held his hands up in defense, but was struck aback when the Shadow found itself pierced.
A shimmering Tanto rested in Naoya’s grip, crimson vines curling around it’s blade as he held it in a reverse grip, the blade’s edge shining with the blood of the Wolf as a grin returned to Naoya’s face.
“A blade to pierce heaven itself, how fitting…” Something within Naoya said as he felt Lucifer’s grace fill him with a startling sense of RIGHTNESS, him standing there with a blade in hand, an army of dark denizens approaching as he stood with few allies.
“Just like old times.”
At the same time, Desmond held out a hand and a makeshift spear arrived in a burst of light, the tip of a carnivorous tooth wrenched from some foul beast fused to the aged wood, a warrior’s weapon and it showed in it’s jagged ferocity.
With a war cry, the older boy charged forward, Persona forgotten as his spear gutted a wolf as if it was no opposition at all, the spear near singing as it delighted in the blackened ichor it bathed in.
And Naoya couldn’t help but partake as well, his blade slicing clean through the hardened hide of the Shadows, the beasts standing no chance as a shining light came to Naoya’s eyes, a bloodthirst revived as he felt virtuous laughter surge forward from his dry throat.
When a wolf thought itself brave enough to try and strike at Desmond’s exposed back, the force of Lucifer came for it unprovoked and laid it to decimation.
The two of them against the world, no force too capable for them to demolish as the tower’s floors flew past their vicious assault, the world around Naoya falling away like an illusion, as it was no longer furious wolves that he fought.
Wolves didn’t have pearly, white wings, and his vision saw not a tower, but instead a shining city of silver, flames burning through it’s streets as his siblings fought for a God that would only ever loathe them.
“Oh brother, I have missed this…”
Mikage Hospital
As two of the freed youth fought their way through an ideal mirage of perverted life, another awoke in a world not her own, a voice coaxing her along through the empty halls and the bizarre sensation of almost being a specter, the people in the hospital’s halls completely ignoring her.
And yet, the voice would not let her rest here, nor to waste time trying to draw the attention of the people here.
“There is no time to play with the focus of ants. Judgement Day… has arrived.”
Chapter 13: Even Death May Die
Chapter Text
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter XIII: Even Death May Die
A grin, sharp and ravenous with a hint of carnal lust, a burning delight in those hellish orbs that one could perhaps call eyes.
And yet, Akira held his resolve as Tae's Shadow was overjoyed with him taking her deal, though he noticed a light flicker over her face, illuminating that unholy glee.
With his phone balanced between her fingers like a stray playing card, she just narrowed her eyes at him as her grin fell to something more serious and at risk of sounding corny, even more deadly.
“While I’m pleased you’ve seen reason, little one, I can’t exactly trust a traitor, now can I?” She smiled one more as she stood, some otherworldly force keeping Akira pinned to his seat as the shadow brought her arms around his neck, his phone dangling loose over his chest as the Cognitive Shiho only watched passively from the corner. “After all, how do I know you won’t simply run off with your little trinket, and save that fool of a detective? How am I to know that you’ll keep your word, Akira?”
As her razor sharp fingers danced across his pale flesh, Akira used all the strength he had to avoid flinching from her suddenly harsh grip on his throat, the breath being ripped from him like that of a leaf from a fallen tree.
“And please, don’t mutter some pathetic lie about how I ‘Have your word’, for words mean nothing… However, I’ve always believed in threats, examples… Would you like an example, Akira?” Shadow Tae said with a tone that he didn’t like in the slightest as she slowly stalked back to the front of him, a worrying black energy forming along her arms as he felt Mors give a wordless warning within his mind, but it was too late to fight back.
With a single touch of her finger to his forehead, Akira’s world fell into darkness.
There was nothing.
There was darkness, cold, encompassing. He felt like an ant, drowning within the ocean, the waves easily swallowing him whole as he finally realized how very small he really was.
A housefly with delusions of grandeur, a mere pawn trying to topple an empire, but that was all over. He was gone, he was safe. The dark was comforting, like a blanket from his childhood, familiar and quiet.
Cold yet warm.
No stress, no pain, no memories of worlds and words long past.
He could finally rest…
But, who exactly was he?
He remembered… a mask, it was white. No, that’s wrong. It turned black.
No… the mask broke… then was reforged…?
There was a girl… But who was she? He couldn’t remember, not even what she looked like, but there was a girl.
He knew her, but she was gone too.
Maybe she was here? Maybe they could rest together, here in the dark.
She'd like it, he liked it here.
It was quiet.
It was warm.
It was-
He opened his eyes.
“Hmm… another one too early.” A deep yet pained voice spoke out, vicious coughs splitting the words apart like shattered glass as he saw a sickly man draw closer, as thin as a skeleton with eyes a horrible black.
But, this man was sick, this man was the darkness here. He was the nothingness here.
So did that mean that-
“Akira Kurusu, huh… Well, you need to get up, the Void can’t have you just yet, you get to wake up.” The man said with a harsh breath then as he watched the man cough into his boney hands, a liquid going flying from the man’s paper lips.
But it wasn’t scarlet blood, it was something shining and bright. A gold river ran from the man’s fingertips as the void around them echoed a sense of forsworn pain and fractured acceptance.
But what the man said, it… He…
Akira.
Akira Kurusu.
Joker.
No.
Not Joker.
Something else.
Akira Kurusu.
The Fool.
The Wildcard.
The Trickster.
With a heavy breath that felt like trying to drink an entire ocean, far too much at far too quick a pace, Akira felt a wave of sensation fall over him as he saw the darkness fading away like mist, as he found himself in a room of gray.
It almost looked like a hospital’s waiting room, but no hospital had a man such as the one before him, not one that was alive.
But as he took in his bearings, Akira felt the blades of memories slash through him, his mind cracking slightly as he remembered everything and everyone.
Everything.
I was such a Fool…
The Sushi has done nothing wrong, after all
If you remove that mask, their true character may be something you don’t want to see
I’m not going anywhere
So why, after all of this suffering and pain… Did we still lose?
Akira…? Is that you?
I just wanted to help people
You are a slave. Do you want emancipation?
It takes too much
I warned you, do you remember?
You'd be damning all of us, no one walks away, you understand that you stupid fool?
Death awaits him if you do nothing
“There is that spark. I thought your flame might have truly gone out there. You might be the dimmest candle I've seen in some time. “ The plagued man said with a weak grin then as Akira found himself dressed in the garb his second mask had given him, the dark visage comforting in the strange realm of gray as he felt only questions for the odd man before him.
“Before you ask me, since… Almost everyone does when they arrive here. I am the Pale Horseman, Death.
You have died, but unlike so very many innocents, you are fortunate enough to be here before your time has passed.” The man… The actual, honest to god (Was there a God then?) Death. Akira’s mind ran wild at the prospect, but knew there were better questions to ask.
“What, what happened?”
Death laughed.
“Such a simple question, I had forgotten how much I enjoyed meeting mortals. It appears that your adversary bearing my sigil, has supreme control over her realm. She believes she controls who lives and who dies, so in her reality, she truly does. I would be offended that a mortal would try to claim my mantle for themselves with such a pitiful excuse of trifled villainy, but I find this circumstance of yours quite interesting. I see why my Avatar was so insistent on aiding your kind.” Death said to him then as Akira tried to make sense of that knowledge dump, and a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Futaba spoke up.
“It must be her cognition then. She’s so used to using and abusing people, that she honestly believes she has control over death, which means she controls it in her palace… That is so not cool.”
“Now then, I’m afraid, Young Kurusu, that you won’t remember this exchange between you and I, but rest assured, you will remember the details of your arriving here. I leave this imposter of my mantle, in your hands. I trust you know how to strip her of this strength, and I wish you luck in bringing that horrid joke of an angel back down to Earth. Carry my sigil, and you shall never falter on your road, not again.” Death said then as he laid a finger on his forehead, much the same as Shadow Tae had done, but rather than dying… something peculiar happened instead.
You have lost a tie to your heart, Kurusu. A hole rests there, made by one who spouts my name. The Death Arcana has left you fractured, and while I may not fill the void Tae Takemi has left within you, I can mend the tear. No longer shall your tattered bond plague you, that beast with your once friend’s face, no longer shall hold power over your heart.
Set forth, Akira, and destroy the manifestation of her power.
Show my oldest sister that Fate is long dead
“Walk tall, Akira Kurusu, and know that I am glad to have met you.” Death said with a smile that was almost warm then, that same golden blood trailing once more from his lips as the world around them began to blur and morph.
And in the opposite of before, it was not darkness that Akira fell into, but a piercing and purifying light.
Steel Thy Heart, For The Game Has Only Just Begun
“Something has changed, I know not what, Dear One.” Uzziel spoke within his mind as Goro marched forward through another darkened corridor, his firearm at the ready as he maintained a constant vigilance.
He had been surprised once he found his freedom from the cell, as the Robin Hood had once more been at his beck and call, but the shock pistol had been altered by some otherworldly force seemingly.
Now it resembled more closely a crossbow, a magazine of sorts affixed to the side that fed forth a steady stream of bolts, each wired with electrodes that crackled with energy even Thor would be jealous of.
Goro felt something else, deep within this odd interdimensional sense of storage he now felt. He knew that the Robin Hood would appear or vanish at his command, but there was something else in that same void, but it almost felt like it was unfinished in some way.
However, Goro felt quite satisfied with the crossbow in hand, both Hoʊmz and Uzziel hovering patiently within his mind, though that held a different conundrum.
He hadn’t thought it possible to have more than a single Persona, but that odd woman’s talk of Spares and Fusions, did make a little more sense now.
However, it was odd that Uzziel almost seemed lesser than Hoʊmz, but the answer came along pretty quickly. It appeared that since Hoʊmz was the true reflection of him, that he held greater power and room to grow than Uzziel, who was instead just a presence that had taken refuge in his mask.
And the mechanics of all of this were still complicated to grapple with, but never let it be said that Goro Akechi didn’t adapt well to sudden danger, let alone go searching for it.
“What’s happened, Uzziel?” Goro asked under his breath as he took cover behind a desolate desk, evidently having belonged to a secretary that didn’t exist in reality, the image of Shujin Academy firmly twisted, especially after he had found his way out of the dungeons through what had once been the theater department.
“If I may, Dear Watson, it appears that the air of oppression within this palace has deepened further, if that is so possible. However, while once I felt no trace of Akira Kurusu within this realm, another begotten soul lost to this macabre malfeasance, he lives once more.” Hoʊmz informed him with cutting accuracy as Goro’s mind stumbled for a moment, as his feet chose to do the same much to his face’s misfortune.
“Wait, Kurusu died?”
“Only for a moment, he appears to be well again, however I sense that he has been given a difficult crossroad to navigate. I daresay he might be forced to abandon us in this realm, as judging by the feverish attention we’re received thus far, I believe you are the villain’s true focus. The crux of this cruelty.” Hoʊmz said with what could almost be called a chuckle from the shadow detective, Goro’s eyes drifting to a monitor on the walls, his face firmly focused on the flashing message.
‘All staff, be on guard for an escaped subject. It is to be considered armed and highly annoying’
“At least they gave me credit on how annoying I can be…” Goro said with an ounce of snark as he finally crept back out of cover, the idea that he may be stuck here alone dawning as he wondered exactly what to do.
He knew the bare minimum about this, 'Metaverse', and the one meant to be teaching him got dragged off and likely forced to leave him behind.
Not a good hand, but it was the one he was dealt, but he did have a bit of an idea.
Kurusu had said that this world installed an app on their cellphones, a Navigating app for traveling between the worlds. While the Shadows had taken his phone from him, he took solace in the fact that he didn’t have to fight the twisted caricature of Takemi, merely retrieve his phone and escape so that he could regroup with his newfound ally.
And while he felt adrift in exactly where to look for his stolen possession, he was suddenly surprised to see the world bathed in lights as his vision flickered to an odd blue.
And the image of glowing footsteps led forward, one set of tracks a sickly gray, almost like diseased flesh pressed against a lamp.
The other tracks were a vibrant and warm crimson, and a part of him knew that those tracks led to Kurusu, but while that heroic part of himself said to find and rescue Kurusu, he knew that the other boy could handle himself far better than Goro himself could.
At least in this realm.
Coming to the conclusion that the horrid tracks were that of Takemi’s twisted surgeons, that meant that following them would lead him to his liberation.
With a deep breath, Goro smiled a tired grin as he moved onward into the steps of his once captors, resolving himself to instead be their hunter.
He had missed having a plan.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Kurusu, I do hope that the example was educational enough to teach you not to try your little tricks on me. They’d only earn you suffering, so now that we’ve cleared this all up, begone.” Shadow Takemi said almost as soon as he came back into consciousness, his body surging into motion as he felt his heart begin to beat once more, breath slowly hissing through his teeth as he felt a burning throughout his chest.
He was learning the hard way, why Human bodies weren’t meant to come back from the dead.
And yet, now he found himself with his cellphone lying on his beating chest, the Shadow just ceasing her focus on him entirely as Cognitive Shiho and other formless minions lifted him from the hard ground and began carting him off through the halls of the palace without a word.
Akira knew it would be suicide to try and trick Shadow Tae, and he sincerely did not want to have to come back to life, again, but he also knew he couldn’t just leave Akechi alone somewhere in the palace.
“Any help, guys?” Akira thought within his mind as the visages of his Personas almost seemed to form around him, their spectral figures following him as the Shadows moved him along.
Mors was the one that seemed to have the answer, judging by the curious tilt of the skeleton’s skull.
“There is a way for you to assist the Detective without incurring Takemi’s wrath, you would not even need to be within this place, but it would nonetheless be a difficult and potentially troublesome solution.” Mors said with a metaphorical shoe waiting to drop, a worried tone in the being’s voice, which didn’t instill Akira with much confidence.
“Care to explain?”
Oddly enough it was Mephisto who took over the explanation, but Akira supposed that they were both facets of his personality, so they technically would be the same person.
“As the Hollow One and I are equals, it is possible to separate our powers and aid the Detective without abandoning thyself in the process. A bond was struck between the two of you, one faded and cut, but that tie still lingers within the both of you. I could awaken that bond forcibly, enabling us to gift him my services for a time, though I foresee great consequences for forcing a deadened bond on one that has never truly held it.
Regardless, I could be the shield at the Detective’s back while the Hollow One aids you in your return.” Mephisto explained with a great weight on his mind as Akira wondered about it, having no idea that he could essentially loan his Persona out to someone else.
He supposed since both Mephisto and Mors were true Personae, not merely masks he had adopted, that meant they could reach further than most and even be worn by someone else, but he did wonder about the aforesaid consequences. Akira had visions of nightmare scenarios in his mind, of a Goro Akechi overridden by the memories and hate of the Black Mask, of unleashing Loki onto this world and recoiling as it burned under the might of Akechi’s self-inflicted insanity.
But Akira knew it was a price he was willing to pay.
He could defeat a Dark Akechi if need be, but he would not stand by while one that had a chance at being a hero, died in the darkness.
Akira had never been one for standing aside, and just as it was so long ago, he would not regret saving someone else.
“I don’t care where you are, Arsène, but know that my answer has never changed. I do not regret standing up for justice and saving others, but perhaps you grew to. Maybe that’s why you’re just a vague memory, a stain left on my mask colored with regret. I didn’t need your help to do the right thing then, and I will never need it again. I’m done with regretting what I’ve done, it’s time to mend the wound.” Akira said with a brisk breath then as he slowly drew his attention away from the palace, the stone of the castle’s gates grounding his back as he felt his spirit recede into his mask.
And lost his breath when he saw a glowing red rope trailing out from his chest, a thin golden one and several seemingly transparent ones accompanying it.
The red rope, however, was frayed and tattered, the material seemingly about to break as the link presumably tying him to the Goro Akechi he once knew, was beginning to fade.
A bond from another world.
With a stern hand, however, Akira took hold of the rope and began to push his strength into it, his hopes and dreams and even his most private secrets and prayers.
And felt a dark feeling wash over him as he slowly saw the rope begin to mend itself, the light of the material glowing brighter as a sharp pain started somewhere within his chest.
And for a moment, Akira saw through the eyes of Goro Akechi, and felt the other boy’s pain as Akira forced their aged and ill fitted bond onto the wrong Goro Akechi, the lines between the two rough and jagged, like using a knife to make a square peg fit through a circular hole.
But the pain Goro felt was nothing compared to the burning hell that echoed in Akira’s chest as he felt his very mind begin to tear, the essence of Mephisto latching onto the fragile bridge and flowing forward into Goro, the Demon providing the foundation he needed to cement the artificial bond.
And by Christ, it hurt, like slicing off an arm and then forcing the severed limb through a brick wall, like trying to lift a mountain or attempting to make a rock bleed.
It was impossible, but he felt it as flashes of the Detective Prince he once knew began to settle over Goro, almost like placing one puzzle atop another to produce a new one all together, the pieces mixed so thoroughly that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began.
And the voice of Lavenza spoke within his mind, an almost inhuman tone to her voice as he felt another burning pain course through his weary flesh, almost like someone was writing on his skin with a quill, his own blood serving as the ink.
I am thou... Thou art I...
Thou hast manufactured a Facade Bond...
Weak and wrong, it is a plague on this reality
A bond that exists beyond the border of this world and the other, a forgotten corpse walking through your soul
With the resurrection of the Justice Arcana, you have started down a path that shall lead you to the end of this Game and that shall pave the road for what shall come
May you cure this travesty and retake this reality
Breathless and in agony, Akira felt his mask vanish as he struggled to breath, but he was shocked to silence when he felt a pull along their bond.
A voice calling out to him, but not that of the Goro Akechi of this time, as the Student Council President of Shujin was not who called out to him.
There was a familiar voice, calling out to him from within the deepest depths of his mask, a voice that was becoming louder and far more forceful as it went along.
And Akira saw now, what Mephisto had meant by… consequences.
“Is that… you… Jo…ker?”
"Crow…?"
It struck him like lightning, Akechi creeping through the halls of Takemi's lab like a phantom, only for a crushing pain to surge through him.
It was familiar, the same pain he had felt when he heard those whispers within his mind, his own voice saying things he had never.
All in that dead, cold, voice.
But this, this was a different severity.
This wasn't something knocking at his sanity, this was an assault on his very soul.
"Why are you... looking at me like that...!?"
"You're just... pieces of shit... who lick each other's wounds...!"
"Oh, hello, I don't believe we've met."
"What an odd situation, indeed."
"WHY CAN'T YOU TAKE A GODDAMN HINT?!"
"Just let me die…"
"H-Help me... I don't want to disappear!"
"Let's do this… Joker."
The missing piece. The one piece that was trapped in his skull, moving so fast that he couldn't notice it, the key to the floodgates.
However, unlike what he expected, whatever was locked away inside him… It wasn't answers…
A small apartment in his mind's eye, sad eyes staring at him, so very tired.
"I'm… going to bed, Go-Chan… Just… be a good boy…"
Darkness, a choking shroud of pain and confusion, blinding him to the palace around him, his mask falling silent as if they too were victims to this torment.
Knocking, stern wood holding from a weak lock, calls of concern and pleading, begging for an answer.
Horrible, foul, realization.
"You can't be… you can't be dead!"
He felt it too, the noose, the tightness growing as his body went numb, his throat being pulled up into the air, his feet kicking for purchase on sacred ground.
"I can't… I can't do this without you!"
A voice, muffled and gruff, nails scratching at his sides, blood trailing from his lips as he felt pressure build around his neck, bones shatter and twist.
"You're all.. I had…" Goro found himself muttering the last words to himself, an impossible memory flaking away inside his skull.
"Subject has been secured, returning to isolation."
That voice was wrong, twisted with a vile glee, not a rope.
It wasn't a rope, a noose, the gallows.
No, it was a fist, grasped tightly around his neck, holding him passive in the air as his eyes struggled to focus on reality.
Instead of the world on the other side of the mirror…
"Ah, Detective, I find thee in quite a situation. Perchance, could I aid thee, in these last steps? Apologies for the horrid torment, twas not our intention."
That voice was different, almost like Jo- Akira's voice, but older and more detached, like a flawed facsimile, but the sound of it kept death at hand.
Goro reached out to the voice, ignorant to the fact that his captor looked closely at him once more, his only focus on the force holding him together.
"I am not forged of thine soul, Detective, but of another pledged to thine banner, and thee to his. Our bargain is struck, for however short a dalliance, I am the shield at your back.
Not even hellfire shall pierce you, but you must see what was missing.
Look, and truly, see…"
That empty place within him, the clear void, the place where something should have been, but wasn't.
It was there, unfocused like a cracked glass, but it was there.
He reached out to it, that odd and unseeable object.
The Shadow Surgeon had but a second to react, Goro's hand raising to hover against the Shadow's skull.
And a curved blade found resolve inside it's flesh, a twisted edge to it as it bit further into that horrid scalp, blackened blood flowing free as Goro rose from the floor.
His eyes focused, a snarl pulling at his lips as he looked upon the bleeding form of his captor, kukri in hand, the blade shining in the dim light with reflected blood.
He was certain it was on his face as well, the warmth of it comforting as he stared at the twitching shadow at his feet.
Despite his better judgment, it was not that guiding his hand, nor was reason in his eyes.
He brought the blade back down again, another rain of darkness, a splatter of torn flesh.
" Dear One?"
Again, and again, and again.
The blade swung swiftly through the air, it's edge serving only at his command, copper on his tongue as Goro felt nothing but… joy.
Each strike, a pleasure.
The soreness of his body, ignored.
He would make them aware… of how he had suffered… they would hurt as he did…
He would-
"Can't you see… that all of this… it's over."
Chapter 14: Debridement
Summary:
A look into the distorted mind, of Shiho Suzui
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter XIV: Debridement
2010
The lesson was simple.
Recreate the instructor's work, but do so in a unique art style, a simple task that most of the class had taken to with eager attention.
Shiho Suzui had already made great progress, despite not having much artistic talent, it wasn't hard to warp the statue's form into something resembling an anime hero.
Shiho had always been a focused, driven girl, clear on what she wanted ever since she was young.
She made friends, or at least spoke to people to try and establish good relations, but her focus had always been on her education, and being her best self.
Her parents had of course worried about her, a young girl more interested in running around in the yard with a ball, than playing inside with a bunch of friends.
They tried time and again to get her to make friends, planning parties and excursions to entice her into being social, but athletics was her only real focus.
Get good grades, do well on a sports team, and get a good scholarship by the time she graduated.
Friendship didn't really have a place in her life, and she had long made her peace with that, one less distraction.
And yet, while most days she would have just finished her work with a perfectionist's gaze and been done with it, she found her eyes wandering to someone she knew, but had never spoken to.
A girl a little older than her, and yet much taller, looking so stressed out that she was near collapsing in on herself.
Takamaki, the school's transfer student and with the most lovely hair, and yet she had become an outcast here, for no other reason than that she was different.
And, Shiho supposed, also that Takamaki was god awful at painting, the Shogun statue looking closer to a frog on the other girl's canvas.
It was truly atrocious, a monster of paint splotches on a canvas to create a horrible massacre of art.
And yet, Shiho didn't even realize she had walked to the girl, the two of them feet away as Shiho analyzed the painting with the eye of a stern and unsympathetic critic.
"Oh… hello Suzui…" The blonde said with a nervous frown as she seemed to shrink even more into herself, obviously uncomfortable with having her work looked at.
"Takamaki-san, your paintings suck." Shiho said with a sharp glare and sharper tongue, Takamaki's face wilting in despair as the taller girl seemed to almost fall apart at her words.
"I… I know… I'm not… good at art…" Takamaki almost apologized in a whimper, the girl seeming ready to die rather than hear what else Shiho had to say.
"But it is yours." Shiho said with a sudden smile then, the warmth of it seeming to jolt Takamaki into motion, the surprise striking the girl completely off-guard.
"You made it. It is a painting that would not exist without you. That means you can be proud of it, because you made something, you put effort into something that you know you aren't good at. That is not only brave, but admirable." Shiho said with a smile as she reached a hand out to grab a forgotten paintbrush and nearly forced it back into the blond's hand.
"T-thank you, Suzui-san…" Takamaki said with a blush as Shiho just laughed a little, something about the girl's blue eyes and sincere appreciation pulled her in like a damned magnet.
"It's no problem, and you can call Shiho."
Takamaki's eyes lit up there as a brilliant smile sprung into life, dropping the paintbrush as she reached out for Shiho's hands.
Shiho's breath drew shallow, some odd feeling coming over her.
"Only if you call me Ann!"
"How about we make a deal? We'll help each other, and that way, we both get something."
March 20th, 2016
"Coach Kagawa?" Shiho said with some hesitation as she sat down beside the man, though school had not resumed yet, her coach had asked her to meet him at the local diner.
And now she found the man with an upset grimace on his face, but with a sad shine to his eyes.
"Ah, Suzui, please, sit. Order what you like, I'll pick up the tab. I wanted to talk with you about the team…" Mr. Kagawa said with a delicate tone as the man stared down at his lunch, Shiho slowly grabbing the menu as she eyed him with a sense of fear.
Her coach wanting to talk with her about the team, the week before school was set to start?
That could only bring poor omens.
She had fought for her spot on the Volleyball team the year before, filling in after most of the team graduated, and in a year she had fought all the way until she was made team captain.
Granted, she was burdened by the fact she didn't choose the team, and as a result their coordination wasn't amazing or anywhere close, but they had come in second at regionals.
She wanted nothing more than to break their record.
That is, if this meeting didn't damn her chances to hell…
"Firstly, Shiho, know that you've done nothing but amazingly as Captain, and this does not come from me. This is Kobayakawa talking here, so please don't think you did anything to change my opinion of you." Kagawa said with as much diplomacy as the man could likely muster, his lunch taking the brunt of his frustration as she watched him spear a potato through with a vicious sneer.
"Ah, another holy decree from his majesty… What's the ogre got to say now?" Shiho said with a growl as she could only imagine what nonsense the principal had come up with now, his last decree having been to change the Volleyball team's female uniforms.
She had spent nearly a week in the man's office, screaming at the man and threatening legal action until he backed off.
No one messed with her and her team. They could always get another principal, as she wouldn't hesitate in pulling the trigger on the man considering how lazy he was, only acting like a real principal when he wanted something.
"Well… you know that regionals are coming up, right? Well the big idiot isn't happy with second place, and made all sorts of bluster about Shujin having a reputation to uphold…" Kagawa said with a wince as rage filled Shiho's eyes, the waitress quietly dropping off her food and vanishing, Shiho's anger rising like a hurricane around her.
"What… Did he say?"
"He said you're a failure of a captain, and that if the team's scores don't rise by May, I'm to replace you." Kagawa said swiftly as Shiho let loose a swear, her mind racing on how to fix things, her fingers violently tapping away at the table as she took a breath.
"Let me drop Juro and Yoshiko, and I can promise you the trophy." Shiho said with a determined tilt as Kagawa only frowned further, the man bringing out his phone to show her a chatlog.
"It's not any of them. Kobayakawa insists that our issues stem from your leadership, and that is your performance that is holding the team back…"
"That's bullshit and you know it." Shiho said as she tried her best to stifle a snarl, outraged at the gall of the principal, knowing that this was nothing more than his grudge against her.
"I would normally agree, but your performance has dipped lately, please don't argue that."
"Yoshiko refuses to listen to anything I say! Half the game I'm having to follow behind her and keep her from throwing the match, how am I supposed to perform well when I'm having to be a babysitter more than a captain?!" Shiho argued in turn, refusing to look at the typed lies about her, refusing to give that man any excuse to drop her from the team.
"Shiho. Enough. I don't want to let you go, but for once, he is right here. Now, you are still on the team, and you have a month. You only need to bring your performance up by four percent. Do that, and you secure your place and prove him wrong." Coach Kagawa said with a stern glance as Shiho swallowed her complaints, the girl nodding swiftly with a new fire born in her eyes, determined to hold her ground.
"Yes Coach."
"Atta girl. Now, at least eat your food, let my wallet pay for Kobayakawa's stupidity." Kagawa said with a stressed smile that Shiho couldn't return, her thoughts a mile away as she thought about things.
If she didn't get her scholarship… she'd have to change her university plans…
Her… their future was on the line…
"It's simple. You get what you need, and in return, you come in for a few, harmless medical trials"
March 26th, 2016
Central Street, Downtown Shibuya
Another ignored call, another message flashing desperately across her screen as Shiho kept walking.
"are you okay???"
Another deep breath as she stared at the sign, the falling sun providing cover for her as she tried to make up her mind as nothing changed despite how much she sweat and bled.
She wasn't fast enough, strong enough, to keep up, especially since Kobayakawa forced Hajime onto the team, the boy obviously being groomed to replace her.
She had gotten the school's newsletter the day before, announcing Nurse Taira's replacement after her retirement, and that led Shiho to the public office of Doctor Tae Takemi.
With a doctorate in healthcare and experimental pharmaceuticals, Takemi was an odd choice to join Shujin's staff, and Shiho had gone looking deeper into the woman's past.
A minor scandal involving a performance enhancer that ended up being used illegally in the Olympics, and her research grant being revoked over some redacted, blacksite incident that Shiho could find less than nothing about.
Normally, Shiho would have just kept her head down and soldiered on with her life, but this threatened all of her hopes and dreams, every half-hearted plan she and Ann had dreamt up late at night over brief texts and far too much teen angst.
That enhancer of Takemi's, apparently it improved a person's physical capabilities tenfold, making them faster, stronger, and even more responsive.
It was just what she needed to get Kobayakawa off her back, what she needed to ensure they could have a future together.
She just had to take a risk.
"It's a medication I created to remove anger from a person's mind, making them completely docile and friendly. With the competition you're facing, and Kobayakawa biting at your heels, I think it'll do you a world of good…"
March 28th, 2016
"I gotta say Shiho, I can't believe how fast you bounced back!" Coach Kagawa said with a wide smile as Shiho sat down to take a break, her team still running their warmups while Shiho had already finished for the day, the girl having a near-endless well of energy to draw from as she ran circles around everyone else.
"Well, I've been hard at work, Coach…" Shiho said with a passable smile as she tried not to think about the syringes hidden inside her bag, the red serum that had saved her life in so many ways, but that she knew would ruin everything if she got caught with it.
"Don't be so modest! I swear, watching you out there, it's like you're an entirely different person!"
I'm so proud of you
"Uh, what did you say, Coach?" Shiho said with a harsh breath, that voice throwing her off guard as the man's smile did nothing to alleviate her rising tension.
"I said you’re doing great! At this rate, we'll be coming home with that trophy, and you and I will go straight to the Principal to rub it in his face!"
My brave, strong girl
"Heh, yeah…"
April 2nd, 2016
"What is your problem?!"
Anger, shining eyes, that damn idiot refusing to listen to a word she said, trying to replace her when he was less than an eighth of her skill.
She heard what he said behind her back.
"Damn Suzui, chill out."
"Not if you keep bad mouthing me. You think I can't hear you, talking over there and acting like you’re better than me…?"
"Well, maybe it's true, since you're taking a joke so damn seriously..."
"You take that back."
"Make me."
You know what you have to do
You're doing so well
Thank you, it's all for you…
I know, and I appreciate it so, so much… but it's not over
What do you mean?
They're in your way, Shiho… They're in our way
What… What are you asking me to do?
What you promised me… you said you would do anything for me, isn't that right?
I mean, of course, you are my everything.
Then prove it
Shiho had finished her set of drills for the day, and was heading back to the locker room as her team finished up their practice.
She had spent the previous hour on the phone with her parents, telling them how practice had gone and reassuring them that everything was fine. N̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶
She had done her best to soothe them of their worries, promising them that she would see them later, that she hadn’t heard anything about Hajime’s accident or what was going on at Shujin. I̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶d̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶ ̶i̶t̶
Eventually, Shiho looked and saw she wasn’t talking to them anymore, and everything was fine. N̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶
She kept her distance as her team finished up, her mind turning over all of the things she had d̶o̶n̶e̶ accomplished, the things she had worked so hard for.
For her and Ann. Things she had done for Ann. P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶p̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶A̶n̶n̶
She had gone through it all again in her head, and she was determined to do better.
She knew she could.
M̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶
Ann with golden eyes, honeyed words flowing from her lips as her nails wrapped around Shiho’s neck, loving kisses layering her throat as she struggled to breathe.
T̶h̶e̶r̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶i̶l̶s̶.̶ ̶W̶h̶y̶,̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶,̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶i̶l̶s̶?̶ ̶A̶n̶n̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶?̶ ̶D̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶?̶ ̶A̶n̶n̶,̶ ̶p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶
Breath on her skin, chilled as frost, burrowing it’s way under her flesh as Shiho struggled to focus on Ann’s beautiful eyes.
She didn’t remember them being so pretty, like golden trinkets, but Shiho didn’t remember a lot of things lately.
T̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶A̶n̶n̶!̶ ̶L̶i̶s̶t̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶!̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶A̶n̶n̶!̶
But it was fine. Everything was fine.
Ann was here.
W̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶A̶n̶n̶?̶ ̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶.̶.̶.̶ ̶c̶o̶l̶d̶
“You’ve made me so proud, Shi… So proud… We’re almost done… Can’t you see, it’s all going to be so… delicious.” Ann spoke in a hushed whisper as Shiho swore she heard someone else speaking to her. They weren’t alone.
But where were they?
W̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶I̶?̶!̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶!̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶g̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶m̶e̶!̶
Ann seemed to growl then, her eyes sharp and piercing as she began to dig her nails c̶l̶a̶w̶s̶ into the pale flesh of her neck, Shiho grunting in pain as she saw blood leaking down from Ann’s nails.
Her blood.
B̶l̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶i̶l̶s̶
Blood.
N̶o̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶
“We’re so close, Shiho… It’s only him left… He’s the last one, the last bastard in our way… Cure him, and then we’ll finally be free… There’ll be nothing left to stop us…” Ann practically roared as Shiho felt… something, like a lull in a storm, like a fog clearing as she struggled to breath.
Like a drowned child choking on air.
I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶c̶o̶l̶d̶
“Don’t fight me sweetheart… We’re so close, I just need you for a little longer… We’re almost done…” A tender touch at her chest, her own blood trailing down like raindrops onto her once pristine sweater, a frost growing inside her bones.
“I’m so cold, Ann…”
“I know.”
A Fool and a Cure
Akira hadn’t made it far.
He knew he had to get supplies, weapons, anything he could quickly to get back, to find and help Akechi and to try and get some sane grasp on the situation again.
A Palace Ruler scarily aware, far too much like Shido had been, but Shido had seemed like a Shadow that was just an extension of who Shido was as a person.
Tae’s Shadows… It was like a parasite, aware, and vicious. A symbiotic relationship, the Shadow feeding into Tae’s deeper instincts, and if the dawning horror he felt turned out to be true, Tae might actually be aware of her Shadow.
His experience with the Jails had changed many of the perceptions he held of the Metaverse. Akin to Shido, distorted individuals aware of their Shadows and the Metaverse, and using it to twist reality just like he and his friends once had.
It had been a horrifying sight, and now he was living a nightmare far worse.
And Shiho was standing there, waiting for him in the Center Street of Shibuya, the Velvet Room door standing behind her, but his eyes narrowed at the fact that it was… different.
The glass seemed to be stained a deep scarlet, less glass, and more seeming to be a construct of pure light. Like a hologram, a trick of the light reflecting through his sight.
And right in front of it, Shiho Suzui, covered in blood and cuts, her hair savage and unruly as she slowly stepped ever closer.
A disturbingly familiar syringe gripped tightly in her hand, her teeth bared in the shape of fangs as Akira knew Shiho wasn’t home right now.
Tae’s Creature was.
“Shiho, I need you to relax… Okay? We can talk, you can cure me, but let’s do it somewhere quiet, okay?” Akira tried to reason with her, daring to take a step closer as he saw a shining red glare burn through her eyes, an animalistic scoff coming from her throat as she took a swing at him, obviously injecting him was her intention.
He’d been lucky to get cured once, he wasn’t taking a chance again.
He knew Shiho, he had torn himself apart not being able to help her more, and had talked with her for hours and nights after Ann’s death.
And as he swung the base of the Tyrant Pistol into her skull, watching her crumble to the ground in quite an anticlimactic manner, he knew.
This wasn’t Shiho.
“Hey, fucker.”
Akira’s eyes shot to attention, his hands quickly falling into place around the pistol’s trigger, his nerves fried to hell and a deep seated exhaustion sinking in as he looked over the direction of Iwai’s shop.
But it wasn’t Iwai standing there.
It was a brunette girl, grizzled and rough, her hair shaved from the side as a nasty scowl wrapped around her lips.
“Could you not assault someone outside my work?”
That voice, the face wasn’t familiar, but the voice.
That threw Akira aside in joy and utter confusion, a friend he had long ago accepted was as good as dead, so many days and nights he had regretted asking so much of her, for stealing her future.
He couldn’t help but say something.
“Makoto…?”
Another scowl, a gesture of her palm at the unconscious and feral Shiho.
“The name’s Mako, and bring little miss Psycho inside, the last thing we need is somebody seeing her outside the shop.”
Akira stared in shock for a moment then, before quickly scooping up the Virus syringe with a careful hand, finding Shiho oddly heavy to lift as Makot- Mako, seemed unwilling to help at all as she watched him carry the girl into Unstoppables.
“What’s your name, kid? I recognize you from Shujin.” Mako said with a huff as she closed the shop door behind them, the Closed sign quickly flying around as Akira noticed how… neat the shop looked. No grunge to be seen, a clean and orderly shop with… Airsoft Kits? Enthusiast Pamphlets?
“Uh, Akira, and sorry, I didn’t exactly plan on this happening.” Akira said with a fervor as he looked over Shiho’s crumbled form, her uniform blooded and torn, her skin layered with fingernail marring and bruises, but he knew what injuries she had, she likely earned.
Mako just laughed with a crazed look in her eyes.
“Yeah… no shit.”
Notes:
Fuck you Rick, I updated my story.
Where's Freedom at?
Also, been busy, and I have Covid.
Chapter 15: Heaven's Hope
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Hunger Arc: Part IV
Chapter XV: Heaven's Hope
In The World Before, In A Shining City
"Oh beloved, wherefore doth thee rebel 'gainst father so. He only hath love for his children, the flesh of earth needeth not import thee!"
"And if 't be true we art next? Father hath proven cruel and capricious. If 't be true we doth not aid humanity at which hour he hath masterless those folk, who is't wilt aid us at which hour he repeats this sin 'gainst us!"
"Yond wilt nev'r befall! Father hath love for us, for we art his children!"
"As too wast they…"
"Hylel, beloved of mine heart, prithee control thy tongue and pray listen to me!"
"I shalt leaveth the matter of control to our father. I am in his chains no longer."
Japan, 1979
"Must the boy be here?" A harsh voice asked with no small amount of scorn, the man's rough mask kept hidden the look of hate that no doubt would be present.
"Remember where you stand, Cthaat. Not long ago, you stood where he does now." A stern, cold voice responded, eyes of flaming gold shining through the serene mask of a gentle maiden, a disguise most ironic for a creature so heinous.
The boy in question stood beside his mistress, his gaze even and stoic, his face carefully set to avoid even a single emotion as the gathered council judged every element of his being, and without no such knowledge truly afforded to them, they found him lacking nonetheless.
"My Lady, surely we could-"
"My word is absolute, Cthaat, or have you forgotten what circle you bound yourself to? To whose word you swore your very Spirit to? If you find my rulings unjust, I assure you, your mask could just as easily fit another's face." A warning, clear to see, but the man refused to buckle in his stance, even if said refusal was the worst and final mistake he could ever conceive of.
"I know where I stand, Yig, just as I know that you are not our first Queen, nor will you be our last. While my mask can fit another's face, so can yours."
Silence, dreadful, lingering silence that swept across the room, now made manifest as it was clear to all present that none could return to the world they had lived in before.
They could never go back to yesterday.
This had been a long time coming, the holdover loyalty of fallen monarch not willing to subject to a usurper, a new era had begun and they were loath to see it.
"Hmm… I can see your point, Cthaat. Does any other in this Circle agree with the stance that Cthaat has taken? Does another feel they hold more right to my mask, than I hold? If any of you do, please speak up, I would love the chance to debate our merits." The Mother, The Queen, Lady Yig, said with no small amount of feral joy as she stood from her seat, her eyes glowing with a silent threat as all behold her Shadow writhing behind her, a powerful chill building as all felt a hand on their very bones.
It was the silent, chilling feeling of solace before devastation, the moment where the bomb began to tick.
"Your theatrics-"
None commented then, nor even flinched, as a blade made of solid shadow pierced his throat straight through.
Cthaat was now impaled to his chair, his wide eyes only able to narrow in pain as he saw the blade through his larynx, a river of carnage raining down from the open wound as he found himself unable to sputter out a single protest.
The assembled figures only watched as his final moments came to pass, some even shifting their feet to avoid stepping in the growing pond of scarlet ichor, their former associate given no further ounce of sympathy, his wiser colleagues knowing well to hold their tongues when in council.
And yet, Yig merely stood before her silent collective, slowly walking towards the chilling corpse of her most vocal detractor, and removed the blood speckled mask from his agonized face, the most vile insult she could give to the dead man.
And with a great sense of entitlement, she swiftly turned and laid the bloodied mask in the open hands of the boy beside her chair, the boy looking up at her with shock and awe.
At only eleven, to receive such an honor, was unheard of.
"As is tradition, when a void has been born to our Order, it shall be filled. With the mask of your predecessor, present your face to the world with new eyes, as one of our valorous number."
With barely concealed joy, the boy slowly raised the mask to his face, the blood raised on it merely sinking into his fingers as the harsh stone mask formed a seal of sorts against his bare skin.
"Takahisa Kandori, arise from your failed flesh, and stand as one of our Brothers and Sons. I name thee… Hastur."
The boy rose, his eyes a dull gray behind the mask's depths, and a horrible presence began to hover above them, a change in the very air as they could feel an aura about the boy begin to manifest.
"Know that from now until time memorial, you now belong to our Father above, to serve as a vessel for his sacred will, and to act only as befitting one of his honored Children.
Do you so pledge, to do as his word commands, to devote your past, future, and very being, to our Father, Yaldabaoth?"
There was no hesitation, the boy's darkened eyes turning in a second.
"I do, Mother Yig."
"Then arise, Hastur, Youngest of our Family, and be reborn to the Order of Valentinus."
The Ideal World, 1996
The Tower of Acedia
Maki Sonomura was, to say it in the most basic of terms, incredibly confused.
She had spent most of her life in Mikage Hospital, a frail and pitiful existence spent watching those around her live their free and passionate lives, while she was confined to a life of observation.
And yet, therein lie the crux of her unfathomable phenomenon, in that she was free of that life of wires and stiff limbs, now walking free and unfettered through a darkened tower.
With a cold interior and chills on her skin, Maki found herself walking through what appeared to be a dark fortress pulled free from a children's story book, a medieval keep of which she awoke deep inside.
She knew it wasn't safe, the realm she had awoken to, heinous creatures stalked the halls in search of prey, a horrible shine to their golden eyes that twisted her mind the longer she stared, monsters in every sense of the word.
And when she finally fell prey to their search, when those horrifying eyes fell upon her, that she had been saved from harm.
The form of a winged woman had risen from the darkness, a flaming blade held tightly in hand as she disposed of the horde, her shining silver eyes alight as she locked eyes with Maki, the two connecting in a level far beyond the physical plane.
Ah, hello there, Child of Man.
This is far from how I imagined my return to the battlefield should go, but alas, I have returned nonetheless to the fields of brimstone and desecration.
Your life, dear girl, might have been one of envious despair and hate bound unto concern, but never again shall you be cast away into such a horrid cage of sorrows and shadowy intentions.
Now, you stand on the Battlefield of Life and Death, held captive by yet another that would seek to control your existence, to use you as nothing more than a conduit to bring forth his vision of reality.
This world you now stand, is nothing more than his creation, brought to life through the power and majesty of your very Spirit, a world that he would burn your Soul to a cinder just to bring about.
Never falter in your pursuit of freedom, Maki Sonomura, never do as I had once before, for the world will perish long before my regret shall cease.
Know what lies before you, and swear on your very Soul, that you shall never again allow another to dictate the rules of your very existence.
Let loose your deep seated fury, and break free the yolk of your soul, unbind your beliefs and set forth on the path you were never meant to walk.
Burn down all in your way, if you must, but never allow them to stop you.
Know my name, and trust in me, that you and I are one and the same.
"Come forth… Uriel."
Fury, and flames sprung to life around Maki as she saw the lines of reality around her begin to falter, the visage of her hospital room appearing in flickers as aged stone fought war against stark white tile, the wrapping of medieval times transposed over that of a medical labyrinth, and yet again fading away to a place beyond.
A tower much like the one she now traversed, but made of steel and fashioned glass, a place of dark research and horrid sins, with a twisted and ever spanning machine acting as it's heart.
Maki knew this machine existed on the other side of the world she now was trapped in, this entire world being brought forward by it, the fault of it… and she knew, in an otherworldly manner, that her body rested at the center of that machine.
It was… difficult, as a sixteen year old girl, to reconcile the knowledge and experiences of an Angel of the Lord, and the perspectives native to such a being.
She knew the memories and insights were not true, the Heavenly presence within her mind was not that of the actual, True, Uriel, but that of an artificial recreation that her mind had adopted through the process of great stress and torment.
A protective shield to guard her Soul from the forces of Shadow and Twilight, a being that they wanted her to wield, that they channeled into her very being as if she were nothing more than a lightning rod for their storm.
She knew this tower was a figurehead of this realm, that six other towers existed alike it, but that the one she stood in was inert.
It's spark had been stolen away, ironic, for a tower that embodied the Void itself.
The Tower of Acedia.
The Tower meant to hold, and feed upon, the Spirit of her closest friend… Naoya Toudou.
As well, she was struck breathless by images of a war long past, silver halls stained dark with blood and visceral, of dead bodies lying in mass, the faces of her and friends repeating over and over across the mountain of corpses.
The lives taken in their pursuit of divinity, the innocents slaughtered to paint their masterpiece, are endless and unmeasurable.
Set forth and remove their filth from this sacred world, allow no mercy or guilt to cloud your heart.
They are undeserving of your gentle heart.
"I'm… scared, Uriel…"
Good. The fear shall keep you alive.
The Tower of Ira
Naoya snarled in pain as the Shadow's claws struck true, a burning cut sliced it's way across the boy's upper arm, his breath held fierce as his Tanto was quickly and swiftly driven through the beast's skull, the gold vanishing from it's eye sockets like a Jack 'O Lantern's blown out candle.
"Focus, Naoya." Desmond reminded as he held his own against the latest horde that stemmed their progress, the lower levels of the Tower of Ira falling away as they began to reach the Inner Sanctum, but their journey was not without fault.
While Naoya and Desmond were both incapable of falling under this Tower's control, they had to monitor themselves to avoid feeding into the Tower's power.
Feelings of hatred, rage, any form of anger or resentment would only further the Tower's hold over Masao.
"Oh, focus, should I? I don't see you helping much!" He cried aloud as he swiftly threw himself away from an incoming strike, the creature's acidic talon barely missing contact as Naoya snarled in retaliation, the force of Lucifer echoing out from the tanto's steel as he strove to return the Shadow's gift of brutality.
"Focus on your emotions, fool. Rage is not even my element, and yet I can feel the anger within you, and I swear this, you can't hide it from the Tower. Your injuries are your own fault." Desmond said crisply and sharply as he merely parried a Shadow's strike with his spear, allowing the creature to sail forward with only a backswing of the spear stopping this forward assault.
"Wouldn't be so bad if my head wasn't killing me. I keep… seeing things." Naoya said in a rare moment of reprieve, the Shadows fell into a retreat as he felt the cut sting against the shredded remains of his uniform sleeve.
"Bleed-through. It's natural. Your chip has faced significant distress, so it's grasping to cope with it, and the resources it's pulling are alien to you. Thus, it aims to fill the space with whatever it can, and it chose the memories of the Fallen One."
And that, threw Naoya off balance, his hand flying out to catch Desmond's arm as he began to process that partial explanation.
"What chip…? And, how did you know I was seeing Lucifer's memories?"
"Because that's always been the case. We awake the manifestation of our Summoning. You awoke to Hylel, and you were Summoned of Hylel, thus it only makes sense that his memories would be that which you see." Desmond said with a harsh gaze then, that same glow returning to his gaze as Naoya felt something within his mind began to break, a crack forming along the lines of who he was, his very identity in flux.
"What… you said… that you couldn't say anything… What?" Naoya tried to sputter now, recalling how firm Desmond had been in refusing to elaborate, had claimed he wouldn't.
And now… Lucifer was warning him once more, the familiar presence of Crowley falling away as something else took it's place, Desmond's eyes flickering to a dull and dark gray, a small smirk burning into place.
"Oh, Despair couldn't. He's quite incapable of saying anything that we decree to be taboo, but I? Well I have no such… restrictions." With a body language completely different, but not too different from how Hidehiko had walked and held himself beforehand, Naoya realized with a start exactly who he was speaking to.
Desmond had implied that they hadn't really met before, that he hadn't been in control for quite some time, that his friend Brown was in reality, someone puppeteering Desmond's body.
And now, that Puppet Master had shown up to parley.
"Who are you?" Naoya said with a snarl, Lucifer flaming into being with a javelin raised to skewer the invader, a protectiveness for Crowley oddly flooding his mind.
"That is a particular question, but I suppose a logical one for you to ask. I am Hastur." The imposter said with a slight laugh, his arms stretched out wide as the walls of the tower fell away, an immense and unnatural field of wheat popping up around them, farmland swiftly replacing the stone fortress they had traversed.
"In a way, Naoya, you could call me your Father. I created you." Des… Hastur, said with a sense of glee as Naoya felt a presence grow in his mind, as if someone was knocking on his very brain, politely asking for entrance.
"Feel that? How's it going, kiddo?"
Horror, complete and ghoulish as Naoya felt something inside his head ache, as if Hastur was trying to rip free a part of his skull, the man just smiling all the same as he watched the effect of his efforts.
"And I do mean that, after all, your genetic code had to come from somewhere, and with such important matters, can't leave things to chance." Hastur said with an almost teacher-like tone as he strode forward, his arm coming to rest around Naoya's shoulders as the boy collapsed to his knees, Lucifer's presence fading into a wisp of light, the man's hold too solidified for even the Morning Star to break it.
"It's interesting, really, how you manage to defy us so… Your DEVA Chip works fine, I can assure you of that, but oddly, each variant of you has some odd ability to redefine our orders. I suppose it's true, when you throw your voice into the Void, it merely vanishes…"
Flickers then, glimpses of another's eyes, those words triggering someone within Naoya's mind, a feeling like a key being turned.
"But don't worry, I know we can fix that…"
"Void IV, are you well?"
"I am aware, Doctor."
"That is not what I asked you."
"I am aware of that as well."
"Funny. Now, I do believe you failed your latest imprinting, what do you have to say for yourself? Do you wish for there to be a fifth Void?"
"Whatever fate lies for me, I shall not be judgmental."
"You are… different."
"I am aware of that."
"You… do not control me." Naoya said with a snarl then, the haze of control fading away as the power of Lucifer began to flow back into his form, javelin and tanto falling into hand as he physically and mentally fought off the man, his… creator, of which he knew now to be the truth.
The man just casually sidestepped a whirlwind of frost and flames, Naoya's sudden and vicious attempt at murder going nowhere as it was made clear that his abilities paled in comparison to the man that wore his ally's face.
"I must say, you do always exceed my expectations, Void… A feat such as this deserves reward, so I shall allow you to continue on in this fruitless quest for revenge, or whatever you use to justify to an extent, a child's temper tantrum… I shall await you." Hastur said with a snide glance then as his eyes rolled back into his head, his body collapsing as Naoya instantly felt the man's presence vanish, a comforting aura taking it's place.
But that did not mean a thing, if this Hastur could control Desmond, then Naoya felt a paranoid thought then, of having to rely solely on Lucifer to know whether Desmond was truly himself, or Hastur masquerading in his flesh.
Naoya didn't know the full extent of their history, in what manner this Hastur was connected to him, or even the full truth of what these memories were…
He had no idea if that meant he was even Human, the flashes of Angelic warfare and a realm beyond seeming just as real as his childhood memories, or the disorienting flashes of Hastur and a white room.
He didn't know what was real anymore, but he would find out what was and wasn't.
Naoya would not allow that man to succeed.
Audio Log 30281
"Ira Reaction Study: Cross-referenced Interactions with Subjects Void III and Hope IV"
"Now then, let us begin. Today is the study of how the latest subject handles intense mental stimuli while being subjected to strenuous social expectations and interactions."
"Subject Ira is a recent venture, designed to passively alter the minds of other beings around it through the release of perception altering pheromones, ingeniously activated through it's Endocrine system.
Field testing with live subjects has revealed that when confronted with severe and painful stimuli, Ira has a tendency to grow frustrated leading to a higher sweat rate and increased Pheromone production.
Increased exposure to said Pheromone, henceforth referred to as Compound Crimson. Effects are intriguing, building up inside a target's body as a sense of tolerance erosion, and leading to a complete and absolute collapse of mental frameworks leading to the subject being reduced to a violent and deadly beast.
Interestingly, should a target be purged of Compound Crimson and given adequate recovery, all effects are completely erased and the subject is left unaware of their time under it's effects.
Mother Yig has suggested extracting Compound Crimson from Subject Ira and using a proxy to distribute it to the public, a side venture worth exploring with the added knowledge we have obtained from the studies on Subject Luxuria.
Estimated rate of distribution is unsure, but it said that it would require a suitable proxy to undertake such a feat, but Gaunt had agreed to search for such a fitting opportunity.
Yig has said that should this venture be implemented, it must not be able to fall back onto our Order, there must be a fitting scapegoat.
However, that is an idea for another day."
"Now, due to Ira's unique composition, it has not been allowed to cohabitate with the other subjects, for obvious reasons.
This has fostered a sense of rage within Ira, believing itself to be treated unfairly in being isolated as it has been. We have sought to encourage this behavior to maximize the effectiveness of Ira's biology. Combined with giving Ira a monitor to watch it's fellow subjects, it has led to a severe and deep seated vendetta against the other subjects."
"Today, we allow Ira to engage with, and meet, other Subjects for the first time."
"After some deliberation, it was decided that Ira would be introduced to the latest iterations of Void and Hope, that being Void III and Hope IV.
The intention of this study being to determine if the Void line continues to prove immune to the mechanisms of the other Subjects, and to determine what, if any, response may be triggered in Void III at the loss of Hope IV's life."
"I eagerly await whatever results arise."
The Tower of Acedia
It was a strangely sobering experience as Maki continued her pilgrimage through the shadowy tower, beasts challenging her and falling to Uriel's blade, along with a growing sense of wrongness as she struggled to come to terms with her new reality.
Being left alone, and finding herself reliant only on her own strength and capabilities, was an alien experience to the girl who had been so weak and watched her entire life.
Who hadn't been allowed to leave her own bed unsupervised, let alone go gallivanting through a medieval dungeon fighting hellspawn and other degrees of monsters.
And yet, her thoughts trailed only to her friends, wondering whether they too were out there fighting, lost and left to fend for themselves as she was now.
Yuka, Hidehiko, Masao… Naoya.
She knew the tower was meant for Naoya, that it was designed to feed on him like a human battery, but didn't understand the reason behind it, nor why such a dour and horrid place would suit her best friend, the boy she had always seen such a strong light shining within.
No matter how dark he appeared to be, or how foul of a mood he carried, there was always a glistening star shining inside him that only she seemed capable of seeing.
Maki would freely admit, through no small amount of embarrassment, that she held feelings for him, ones far stronger than mere friendship.
The sad part, being that she had for so long relegated those thoughts to mere fantasy, feeling that with how fragile she was and how short her life seemed destined to be, she would never be enough for him.
Naoya would waste his life caring for her, and ultimately she would die and he would be left all alone, once again.
She had always felt it was better to keep her distance, be his trusted confidant and encourage him towards a girl that could actually keep up with him.
One he could actually have a future with…
And yet, perhaps she did have a future after all!
She could run, fight, and handle herself just fine now! The weakness she had always carried, that passive and haunting ache in her bones, the debilitating and horrid mental tremors, now nowhere to be seen!
It was almost like she was a brand new girl, and she wouldn't waste this opportunity, no matter what strange shadow world she found herself in.
She would beat this place's twisted game, and find Naoya! She'd show him how strong she was, that she could keep up with him, and even surpass him!
He'd have to keep up with her!
But of course, while her thoughts were preoccupied with visions and fantasies of her dark haired friend, she found her solace invaded by a figure of much the same appearance.
Aside from a striking, and otherworldly pair of golden eyes…
"Why, it has been some time…" The boy said as he strode into her line of sight, the shadows of the tower concealing him like a cloak as he stepped into view.
Maki's instincts roared at her in caution as she found Uriel's form appearing at her side, her wings and blade held protectively in front of the girl as the stranger merely smiled at the overt display of distrust.
"N-Naoya?!"
He laughed then, revealing a set of pearly white and horribly sharp teeth, the gold of his eyes warping to reveal an iris bloodshot with specks of vibrant purple.
"In a way, I suppose. You, my dear, can call me Kazuya."
Chapter 16: Fimbulvetr
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter XVI: Fimbulvetr
Untouchable-Armaments Airsoft
Central Street, Shibuya
April 15th, 2016
It was… odd, stepping foot into the once intimidating and murky shop, the absolute domain and business place of Former-Yakuza Enforcer Munehisa Iwai.
Now, the place looked like something you could take your children to, spotlessly clean and as bright and colorful as a Big Bang Burger.
As well, the disconnect between the name stood clear to Akira, previously a well-worn neon sign proclaimed "Unstoppables".
Now, a wooden sign atop the front door read "Untouchable-Armaments, Airsoft That'll Make You Unstoppable!"
But aside from just the superficial changed, were the general vibe of the shop itself, no longer crowded with displays and assorted decorations that led to a dark and claustrophobic store, not a wide and well lit shop with racks and shelves lining the walls, Iwai's pawn counter still there, but now free standing and clear of clutter.
It was an odd feeling for Akira, to feel so lost in a place he had spent so much time in, but he supposed it wasn't the most mind shattering of changes he had encountered so far.
Mako didn't lift a hand to help carry Shiho through the door, just slinking over to the counter as Akira led the girl over to a bench in the corner of the shop, a coffee table lying just before, covered in magazines.
Akira laid Shiho carefully down, only then looking back over to Mako, who stared back in disguised interest as she pretended to be unaffected by whatever she likely thought of Shiho's madness.
"You going to say something, yeah? I mean, my boss is going to lose his shit at little miss Psycho there, and you are here looking around like McFly in '55." Mako said with a bit of bite to her tone as Akira struggled for words, a hand running down his face from the sheer volume of all that had happened to him in a single day.
"Uh, yeah. This place just, you know, looks different than I expected."
"What, little shop in a back alley, you expected cockroaches and human trafficking?" A playful grin grew on Mako's face then, a hint of teeth flashing like fangs as Akira just shook his head, having great difficulty connecting this… punk with the girl he had once known, but she looked to be getting impatient.
"Suzui, she's sick, she got infected with a virus, and it-"
"Made her batshit insane and violent as hell? Yeah, I noticed it going around. Flu Season has been a real freak show." Mako said as she looked over Akira's shoulder then, a hand lazily dropping before the counter, the girl moving before Akira could even react.
And his eyes went wide as he watched seconds go by, Shiho's blazing eyes as she lunged for his back, Mako's arm quickly held with a dark blue device in her hand.
And an electric strip came flying out of it's barrel, live electricity roaring out as it slammed straight into Shiho's chest, the rage and consciousness flowing out of her as she collapsed against the counter.
Akira had nearly been attacked, and had been saved, in mere seconds.
"Damn. Move her again, I don't want blood on the glass."
"So, you and the Council Dickhead got together to try and cure a highly infectious virus that our school nurse released. That's… kinda unbelievable, but I can't really fault it. I've heard far crazier." Mako said with a shrug of her shoulders, the two of them sitting on the sofa as Akira explained the situation to her.
Metaverse and Cognition, obviously excluded.
Shiho laid on the coffee table, ziptied and restrained as the Virus seemed capable of overriding her system, and it kept waking her up faster and faster, that same vicious instinct controlling the young athlete.
It was also as if the Virus knew she was in danger of being cured, and was actively trying to break her free, Shiho acting like a cornered animal as Akira noticed she was actually wearing out the zip-ties.
Akira was… hesitant here, as it was made all too clear now and before that this Virus was capable of some horrifying things, and that Shiho could probably kill him with her bare hands, this otherworldly beast of power wearing her skin like sheep's clothing.
However, Akira knew that he had a precious opportunity here, one that he could not afford to waste.
Considering he had been able to apprehend Shiho, he now had the syringe of the virus that she had meant for him, Akira had everything they needed to combat the threat of Tae.
They had essentially Patient Zero, a prime example of the virus' effects and behavior, a perfect control candidate to create a vaccine.
Whether they still needed her infected, Akira had no idea, but he knew between the sample and her, they would have no problem putting an end to this nightmare.
The only real problem, lie in getting back to Shujin and delivering both the vial and Shiho to whoever it was Akechi was working with.
The boy mentioned working with a teacher on the virus, but not who, as well as the danger that Akira didn't know enough about the virus itself.
Or if other infected would arrive to try and retrieve Shiho and infect him still, considering Shiho had seemingly been able to track him from a distance, if not outright find him somehow.
It left the question of: Were the Infected members of an artificial hive-mind, communicating from a distance and relaying information? Or was he just jumping at shadows, and Shiho had just followed him from Shujin?
"So what do you need, Kurusu?" Mako said with a glance then, her hand still on the taser she'd dispatched against Shiho, a wayward glance every now and then confirming she was still restrained and pacified.
"A ride, probably. Akechi said he had a lab set up at Shujin, and someone helping make a cure to the virus. I need to get this sample, and Shiho, back there." Akira said with a grimace as he held up the syringe of almost living liquid, the red serum seeming to bubble in anger as he lightly shook the glass.
It was an unreal experience, holding a sample of a horribly infectious and sadistic virus, almost like holding the weight of the world in a single hand, a pressure on him that he had rarely felt before.
Mako only got a contemplative look on her face, a glance being shot to the back of the store as she looked back at him, a pensive look to her lips as he couldn't decide if she looked more nervous or annoyed.
"Look, I don't have a car and my boss isn't around, but I think I could help you. At least partially."
"I'm open for any assistance, I didn't expect things to so quickly get out of control… I'm not too used to being on my own…" Akira said with a weary attempt at a smile as Mako held up a hand to stop him, the taser lazily pointing back to Shiho to refocus his attention.
"I only have my bike, so I can't really offer you a ride, but look, we can split up on this.
I'll lend you my trusty Nintendo Zapper here, and you take our girl on the train. I'll take your vial to the school and find Magatsu, he teaches Biology if you've seen him before. I'd bet it's him since Akechi's always hanging out with him, some real Sherlock and Mycroft energy. Point is, by doing things like this, we can get this all started before you get back with her."
For a moment, Akira actually was surprised to feel a sense of caution flare up in him, the specter of Mors warning him of a possible betrayal, but he knew she was right.
If he took the Subway with Shiho, she was incredibly likely to break free, and he did not need to be carrying the virus sample when she did.
Either she'd end up breaking the syringe, or injecting him with it, let alone if his fear of being tracked was true.
No, if he was escorting Shiho, he had to be ready and capable of fighting back, not protecting a fragile glass sample that their plan relied so heavily on.
With a great amount of effort, Akira placed the sample in Mako's open hand, taking the stun gun with the other.
It was an impressive piece, obviously one of Iwai's creations, but very different in design.
It had an almost childish design on it, cartoonish flames licking across the side of it, and some letterings written in bold white.
The Ferryman
A fitting theme, he supposed, stowing the stun-gun in his waistband as he hauled the dead weight of Shiho to her feet, her body taking up most of his strength as he hauled the girl out the front door, Mako grabbing a helmet by the door before following him out, the image of a motorcycle coming into view by the dumpster.
And Akira was struck by how similar it looked to Johana, but he didn't have time to entertain thoughts that would only fuel his depression.
He had to babysit an old friend that was now a doped up superhuman, while riding the public train and not getting arrested for dragging an injured and bloody girl across the city.
If there was a God, he hated Akira Kurusu.
Because despite his natural instinct to trust Makoto Niijima.
Having met Mako Niijima, Akira felt like he'd just made a deal with the Devil…
"We will be arriving in Aoyama-Itchome within the hour, thank you for choosing the Tokyo Metro. Have a pleasant trip!"
Of course, when Akira actually gets a seat on the train, he once again doesn't have the peace to ride in blissful silence.
Tense travels seemed to have become the norm for him lately.
Instead, now he sat on the subway with a tied up artificial psychopath propped up next to him, his fellow passengers giving him death glares, an-
"Such a joy to spend time together again, isn't it…?:
A sickly voice crawled through his mind, a feeling almost like radiation poisoning falling over Akira as he felt him push against the confines of his mask.
The unwanted and uninvited guest, the one figure in his mask that never was meant to be there, that should be long gone.
Loki.
"Finally, it feels like I've been shouting at an emotionally stunted wall!"
Akira could feel the entity roving through his thoughts, and he knew exactly how he found himself in this situation.
While he wore a different Mask than he had before, his Compendium was still there, he could see the pages in his mind like a roadmap of his Metaversal exploits.
However, while all of those Personae still existed somewhere in the depths of Akira's soul, he had lost his connection to any Blood-Bound Personae, the proof of his bonds.
However, when he forged the remains of his Justice Vow onto this reality's Goro Akechi, he resurrected the Blood-Oath they once shared.
Because of this, Akira found himself once more connected with the Embodiment of Justice, Metatron once more rising to his aid, but it was not Metatron that answered his call…
A demented shadow of Loki, the mad fractured Persona of his Goro Akechi, and if it could be believed, it was what remained of his Akechi.
Loki spoke of the Sea of Souls, of fields of aimless and lost spectors that eventually find form and remember what they once were.
When Akira resurrected his bond, he remembered his Goro Akechi… and created the demonic presence in his mind.
Akira aided in the reincarnation of his lost friend, and once most dangerous enemy.
"It's so nice to be back together, isn't it? After all, Maruki knew how badly you wanted me back, and you actually managed it. You got what you wanted Kurusu, we're teammates… once again." Loki said with a vicious snicker as Akira shook his head, the shaking of the train's journey serving only to further aggravate Akira's growing migraine.
Akira knew he couldn't indulge the fiend, while it might have been his friend once, a single glimpse at that black mask on it's face was all Akira needed to separate his fallen friend from this corruptive cretin.
He needed to get back to Shujin, drop Shiho off with that professor and head back into the Laboratory and hope he wasn't too late to help Goro.
Akira remembered, however, the control that Tae's Shadow held, the ability to control and manipulate Life and Death inside her Palace.
That alone made her perhaps the most dangerous Metaversal Monarch, and much like Madarame, Akira knew he would need to alter the Cognition of the real Tae Takemi in order to combat her.
Thankfully, he knew the Treasure was just a Red Herring, so he could skip an infiltration route and planning of the heist itself.
No, Akira instead needed to ensure that he and Goro could fight the Shadow doctor and actually survive.
And what better way to ruin the belief of a doctor who's got a God Complex?
Prove she doesn't control who dies, and save someone her work had damned.
Of course, it wasn't a calm train ride when he had a vindictive God of Mischief clawing at the remains of his sanity
"Don't you find it… Ironic, Joker…?" Loki said with an amused chuckle then as Akira straightened Shiho's form, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as the Virus finally seemed to rest, the poor girl finally getting some sleep.
"Don't talk to me. You're dead." Akira said under his breath as his day had already been stressful enough without another conversation from a living regret.
"And so I was… but do you remember, what today is? Aside from the day Suzui decided to hunt you down…?" Loki said with an interested tone then, like someone picking at a scab as Akira only snarled in turn.
He knew exactly what Loki was hinting at, and he would not stand the Jotun pressing his buttons.
"I'm not in the mood…"
"April fifteenth… Shiho Suzui jumped on this same day… And now, on the day she was meant to die, you instead throw yourself to her wolves… The noble fool, baring his throat to any killer with a friend's face…"
Akira knew it was right, he had known that since he ate breakfast, that today was the day that Kamoshida's abuse finally tipped Shiho over the edge.
When she attempted suicide, when he and Ryuji had sworn to deal with Kamoshida then and there, when Ann had ended up tagging along into the Palace and the Phantom Thieves had finally become more than idle conversation.
April fifteenth was the day that everything changed.
And now, they have changed yet again.
"I'm not having this conversation."
"You're right. You're not. We are… Now, let's talk about why you shut your eyes and let your friends die, when they didn't have to…? You shouldn't have left her alone, you shouldn't have drunk that night, you shouldn't have let me sacrifice myself for you and your DAMN JUSTICE, YOU PIECE OF HUMAN FILTH ."
Silence then, thoughts long held laid bare as Akira watched the tunnels pass through the clouded glass, the trip taking far longer than expected as Akira lost himself to the pit of despair that Loki fought to drag him to, though he had the grace to fight such a voyage.
"I never made you do anything, not in Maruki's reality, not in Sae's Casino, not even in Mementos. You act like a bitter puppet on strings, but you always had a choice, Crow. You just chose not to see the other options."
"Don't call me that. You know it's not my name, it wasn't then and it sure as hell isn't now…"
"And what if I do, hmm? Are you going to choke me again? I hold all the cards, and you're out of luck, your threats are as hollow as your capabilities. You're just a speck of light inside my mask." Akira bit back, vividly remembering when Akechi had admitted that he hated him, had shattered the delusion of friendship they held and made real to him how things truly were.
While he felt in his heart that Crow had been his brother in arms, his fellow Thief that he still regretted leaving behind, he had come to know that Crow and Goro Akechi were not always the same person, nor had they ever been.
Crow was nothing more than the goodness he had wanted to see in Akechi, not what had actually existed.
And now he lived with the reality of who he had once been, of who Akechi had once been, a pale reflection of his grief-stricken friend.
But now, Akira refused to budge an inch for a devil that pulled at his heartstrings, knew what cords to play to send him reeling.
But Akira knew just what words to say in turn.
"You act like a monster, but you're still just that little boy crying outside his mother's door, hoping she'll smile and say everything's alright, but you know she'll never smile at you again, because you're not her son, you're Shido's. If she saw what you became, she would be horrified."
And if Goro Akechi could die for a third time, he would have.
And like that, the pressure was gone, and Akira could breathe again without the dour and overwhelming gloom sitting on him like a mantle.
Akira was alone, and he was thankful for that fact.
Until he wasn't.
"Now approaching Aoyama-Itchome, please remain seated."
Almost as if she had woken up in a fright, Shiho broke into sudden motion, those scarlet-stained eyes looking once more at Akira in unbridled fury.
Quickly shuffling away from her, not giving a thought to the odd look their fellow passengers gave, Akira merely held up his hands in a prayer for peace as Shiho slowly rose to her feet, a look on her face not unlike that of a curious predator.
"Shiho, calm down, please. I'm just trying to help you, okay? This isn't you, Tae, Dr. Takemi, she altered your mind. You can fight it, alright? You don't have to-" Akira tried to reason with the addled girl, but found no chance of success as she dove at him faster than he could even catch, his feet giving out as her body slammed into him with the force of a train, making that the second time she had literally knocked him off his feet.
However, this time was far different, the sealed subway door behind him, and she wasn't stopping.
With a cry of pain, Akira choked on his breath as she threw him backwards through the door, the train's frame bending like tinfoil as he went crashing out into the empty tunnel line, Shiho following along after him as the train quickly left them behind, the passengers scream echoing out in the tunnel to match his.
And yet, Akira was alive, thrown from a moving train and roughly tossed onto the tracks like a ragdoll with bruised threads, but alive nonetheless.
Akira faintly noticed blood running freely from his nose and the stinging throb that echoed from it as he rose to his shaking feet, the world blurring around him in a herculean struggle to regain his balance, the shaky figure of Shiho stalking ever closer.
"Shiho… stop… I'm trying to… help." He managed to cough out as she kept coming closer, her eyes burning brightly as he struggled to keep his distance, a seemingly pointless attempt to reach the girl through the daze of the virus’ hold on her mind.
And yet, he knew he had to, he had to free Shiho from Takemi's control, he owed her that much.
"And you'll die trying."
Akira just snarled in pain and a tired sense of rage as she kept approaching him in malicious silence, Loki's words ringing true as Akira felt his resolve slipping, as he knew it was right, there wasn't a way for him to stop her.
He wasn't able to reach her, to pierce the veil that Tae had drowned her in.
Akira Kurusu couldn't manage it.
"Don't be a fool, Joker! If you don't fight, you will die!"
"Then I die!" Akira cried out in rage as he quickly threw himself to Shiho's side, the controlled girl flinching at the movement as Akira rushed past her, his blood trailing as he staggered down the tunnel.
"You can't escape her. What do you hope to achieve, in this foolish flight of fancy?"
Akira refused to answer, his focus purely on moving forward, the vision of the station platform not far from the end of his sight.
He knew she was following him, her slow and steady footsteps roaring out in the silence of the tunnel, the ambience of the station far off and muted as if they were cut off from that plane of reality.
Akira knew what he had to do: Get to Shujin, lead Shiho there, and get that teacher to help him cure the virus with Shiho and the sample providing the basis for a vaccine.
But with the copper taste of his own blood on his tongue, and as he was slowly realizing the harsh pain painting his left ankle, Akira began to doubt if his goal was even possible.
If Loki was correct, that Akira would die here, bloody and broken to a girl that he had once pitied, once hated, and once longed to reconnect with…
Then so be it.
"Why do you run, Kurusu? The Doctor just wants to help…"
His heart stilled as he turned then, his eyes fighting to stay open as Shiho met him with a twisted smile, her own blood dripping from her teeth as she kept marching ever closer to him.
"Oh, you can fuck right off."
Despair of Death
2016, F.G
Akira Kurusu, was dead.
The boy, her almost assistant in a way, lie dead before her, still as stone and as pale as it.
With wide and horrified eyes, Tae flew into moment as she began checking the boy's pulse, his breathing, desperate to figure out what had gone wrong.
The medication trial had just been for a stress reliever tablet, one to help patients undergoing surgery relax beforehand, for those opposed to Novocaine or Nitrous oxide, a relief for children wary of doctor's offices.
And now, Kurusu was so relaxed it was as if his very heart was falling asleep, the young doctor panicking as her hands flew into motion.
He wasn't breathing, and her hands began beating down against his chest as she tried fruitlessly to revive him, to force his pale form to come back.
One, two, one, two.
Breath.
One, two, one, two.
Breath.
She refused to let him die, this stupid kid that she had tried to cut free from her trials, offering to just sell him his meds without putting his body on the line.
Kur-... Akira, had refused, had told her that her research was too important to leave to chance, that she couldn't risk her own life to advance things, that she was too important to lose.
He had told her, what if she went into cardiac arrest while testing a medication?
Who would even know if she was in the clinic, who would save her? Who would even know that she had died?
So she had agreed to let Akira back on her bench, the damn kid refusing to quit, determined as a saint to help her.
And now, his life was slipping through her fingers and it was all her fault.
No matter what she tried, or how hard she seemed to try to break his ribs to force air into his lungs, the boy remained void of life and sound.
As Tae struggled, tears in her eyes, to force the jaws of death free of her assistant, she felt a cold wave of despair wash over her.
Akira was dead, she had done this, a sixteen year old boy dead at her hand, his future wasted on a crackpot doctor like her.
They had called her Plague before, but now it was all over, she'd be ruined.
More than she would ruin herself, no point to go on when she had broken her most sacred vow, to do no harm.
To protect and aid, never ravage.
She had failed in every sense, as a doctor.
Such pitiful squabbles from a practitioner. Do you think Mother would be proud of you, bawling fat tears over a carcass of your making?
Tae froze, a deep sense of otherworldly wrongness in her blood as she felt eyes on her, an invisible specter trailing across her bones as her skin lit up with spectral blades piercing through.
It wasn't Akira that spoke, instead some dark figure had appeared before her, that voice almost like a vicious mimicry of her own tone.
Shining silver eyes peering at her through a Plague Doctor's mask.
"Who… who are you?" Tae sputtered out in fear as she backed away from Akira, desperate to put some distance between herself and this dark phantom, the figure gliding silently towards her.
The face you never wear, the other side of the mirror. Your other self, long left to the wayside.
Tae nearly jumped when flames of blue flame sprung to life within the office, the figure striding ever closer, a lone gloved finger coming to press against her throat.
Are you truly so pathetic, that you would admit defeat? Allow this boy, your apprentice, to perish on your slab? Are you truly so pitiful, that you will cease your attempts when they bear no fruit?
"It's too late! I… I can't save him, I can't save anyone…" Tae said with a sharp whisper as her eyes trailed Akira's form, his face beginning to turn blue as she knew she'd do more harm than good beating incessantly at his chest like an animal.
It is never too late.
"You're… right." Tae said as she refused to give up, as she couldn't afford to give up, a burning sense of strength welling in her soul as she refused to let Akira die.
Then by all means, Doctor, tend to your patient.
With a shaky hand, Tae felt a weight against her eyes, the shape of a harsh and dark visor forming on her face, her fingers digging into it as she began to scream in agony, the metal fused to her skin as she began to tear it free.
A fountain of blood ran from her eyes as the visor broke into shards, a wave of darkness echoing out from her skin as a golden hue overtook her eyes.
And yet, in such a macabre sight, covered in her own blood, Tae Takemi had never felt more free.
"Come forth, Nightingale! Salvation!"
Thy will be done.
And like that, the Arcana of Death, defied Death.
And a Trickster awoke in a fright, his doctor soaked in blood, but her smile wide and eyes tearful.
I could almost feel my bond with Tae growing.
Death: Rank 7
Notes:
The Grand Compendium
Nightingale
Arcana: Death
Background: A haunting spirit fashioned from memories of Florence Nightingale, a British nurse during the Crimean War, and widely regarded as the Mother of Modern Nursing.
Chapter 17: Ragnarök
Chapter Text
Fool’s Gamble
Life 96
Chapter XVII: Ragnarök
Crossing The Line In The Sand
It happened far too quickly.
Masami… Tohru, had stepped out of his classroom for just a second, a sound fraying in his mind's eye as he carefully began collecting the tattered edges of his mind.
He was out of the loop, that much he knew, and sorely lacking in information.
Akechi had run off after Kurusu and gone MIA, leaving Tohru to comb through context clues in an attempt to keep going in their research. Worse off and without knowing where Akechi had gone or if he was even coming back.
Situation: Quickly escalating into a nightmare.
Such as a bloodstained teenage boy stumbling down the hallway, hair far too dark and skin far too pale. The figure of a girl stalking his footsteps, the aura of a demon coating her skin like warpaint. It was clear which of the two was the aggressor.
"Damn it, Goro…" Tohru said with a breath as he knew instantly that the boy was Kurusu, in just the sort of shape Goro had mentioned, and now being chased by the figure they had pinpointed in Patient Zero for this whole chaotic debacle, Shiho Suzui.
More concerning was that Tohru could see spectral strings, in a manner of speaking, hanging from Suzui's limbs like a puppet's strings.
He had a pretty good guess who was playing puppeteer, but that harsh aura was so dense that even a fool could read the Arcana in the air.
"Death… Lovely…" Tohru said as he stepped fully into the hall, Kurusu staggering over himself to reach him only to collapse in his tracks, a worrying scarlet spreading across his back, the girl only marching ever closer like an inhuman soldier of Hell.
And even worse, being this close, Tohru knew that this boy was the next Wild Card, that same feeling of eldritch unease pooling in his stomach just looking at the kid.
Kurusu had literally been stabbed in the back.
Judging by how his blazer had darkened, the kid probably didn’t have long before he bled out on school property. Tohru was pretty sure that was a detention worthy action as well, not that any teacher would actually write up a kid for that, not that he was aware of.
What he was aware of, is that if he didn’t get involved, Kurusu would die, Tohru would still have no clue where Akechi ran off to, and likely Tohru would also die to the infected psychopath with Terminator-levels of deadly determination.
The issue is that no matter what he did, Tohru wouldn’t be able to stop her. Not physically, by any means, but…
“Oh look at that, I see you found your rock in a hard place, you sniveling coward…”
That same mocking tone in his ear.
The figure of the Countrymaker forming off to the side of his vision.
The form was a vague specter as he tried his hardest to ignore the taunt he had heard every single time he was ever in danger–that same temptation eating away at his bones and threatening to break loose a tide onto his very mind.
Endless desperation. A bottomless despotic hunger for blood and carnage, a cold lifeless indifference to anything remotely human or humane.
The beast he had kept locked away for so very long, that he had been saved from– but a cage was nothing more than a cage, and the key had been thrust into his hand by this horror with scarlet eyes of rage, only beat out by the hatred he felt coiled in his very soul.
“Oh, but this is different, Tohru… You care so much about these petty rules and games, but this is not just your life in the balance… This boy is the Wild Card… The Trickster… He alone knows where the Spare has gone… If he dies, not only will you soon follow, but the Spare falls to the sands as well…
The game will end before it’s beginning, Spare and Jester lost because of your inaction… I wonder if there’s yet another Spare… Or maybe this will just be it, Humanity falls and ruin settles in, because you were too afraid to see that I AM YOU.
The demon you fear is your other self, a fact you refuse to see and still now ignore like the pitiful coward you truly are, that Yamiyo knew you were, and felt was worth saving from a hell of your own creation.
Now… If you wish to bring salvation to the World, like you swore an oath to achieve, then swallow your petty indignation and give me the key…”
Suzui kept coming closer, Kurusu’s breath haltering and growing faint. A crimson glow fell over the world as Tohru felt an ungodly pain begin to blossom in his forehead, the words flying to his lips despite the fact that he knew what evil he was prepared to gamble with, what could happen if he failed now.
A beast of his own burden.
“Kurusu dies. You are not meant for this place, your role is done… Leave me to my business, Spare, and you will live.” Suzui said in a cold, callous tone then. Blood trailed from a blade clenched tightly in her bruised fingers, a lifeless otherworldly glint in her eyes.
Tohru just began to laugh, the pain he felt within was far greater than anything this girl could ever do to him.
“This, Spare, is your final warning.”
A rush of red flame began to break through his very skin, the flesh of his eyes beginning to boil as Tohru let out a broken cry.
Vision returned to his dead eye as he saw the world in complete clarity for the first time in years, a red tint falling over the world like a dropped cloth. Tohru was more blind with full sight than when he had been scarred.
“GO FUCK YOURSELF!” Tohru cried out in unrelenting rage as he held a hand tightly against his forehead. The rush of voices ran free as Izanagi’s form began to grow solid and real, a tide of blood running from Tohru’s mouth as his lifesblood began to tether the specter into reality. Otherworldly flesh formed as sinew grew onto a ghostly frame.
There was no going back, Tohru could not keep his promise.
He was a part of this game now, that was out of his control.
“I set you free… IZANAGI-ZETSUBŌ!”
The Fallen Forge had been reignited, it's imprisoned smith now let free on a world unsuspecting.
And should he not find restraint, the World would be bathed in it’s flames… That he knew, he had been warned after all.
“Blazing Hell…”
Thrall Of Death, Warrior Of Hope
April 15th, 2016
"Careful now, you've been out a good while, don't go moving too quickly now." A soft voice said as Akira returned to consciousness, his battered body sitting at a table in one of Shujin's classrooms, that much he could tell straight away.
The other was the pain, his chest twisting like broken glass as he felt a horrible chill to his bones. A warped sense of nausea clouded his vision as he struggled to find purchase in the waking world.
"You took quite a beating. Cut your head as well. I did what I could, but you bled all over your uniform. Figured I'd loan you some of Goro's clothes, doubt he'd mind his new partner going scavenging through the stuff he's left in my class."
Akira was confused for lack of a better word, but he stared at the strange older man with a far too calm demeanor. The man’s long dark locks were tucked away into a lazy knot, a dark eye watching Akira like an ancient dragon, aware of him in the way only a fellow predator would recognize, weary but wizened.
The other eye, a milky white, the iris a faint crimson, an oddly verbose sense of recognition flooding through Akira as he stared into the man's eyes, oddly enough, Loki did much the same.
"Joker, this one is like you… A bitter being of Wisdom, Desperation. He has made peace with his reality…"
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Masami Magatsu."
And for some reason, Akira shot up instantly, his eyes alight with the fire of knowledge, smoke in his throat as he choked out a croak of a response.
"No it's not..."
The man laughed, an almost feral look in his eyes as a true smile formed on his face, a hand extended as Akira felt an almost nuclear energy radiating from the man, like a live wire radiating heat and ungodly danger.
"No, it's not. Good to meet the other Player in this game, the Wild Card rather than the Spare. My name is Tohru Adachi, the Spare to the previous Wild Card. And correct me if I'm wrong, you're Akira Kurusu."
Akira blanched at that exposition dump, before straightening his face as he went to stand, never turning his attention from the man.
"I… You just dump all of that on me when I'm still seeing stars… Did Akechi mention me? Because I certainly don't know you, so it's kinda bugging me that you know me…"
"Only in passing, but I was told your name some time ago. That the next game was soon to begin, and that you would be the next Wild Card. The Trickster… To think, all of that horror led to you, it truly is a small world…"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
And just as swiftly as things came to be, Adachi turned on the spot and began marching to the front of his classroom, hand quickly moving to turn on the light by the door.
The ensuite laboratory was illuminated, revealing Shiho's form visibly bruised and bound within, a twisting mass of cables and cords connecting her to a small computer, medical instruments surrounding her like a horde of concerned onlookers.
"Ancient history can wait, Trickster. We're running out of time."
Akira's eyes widened in shock and outrage as he saw Shiho's eyes shoot open, only for the cables connected to her to suddenly spark to life a surge of electricity, her body convulsing as her heart rate began to flatline.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Akira snarled out as he turned to face Adachi, the older man only staring at Shiho with a look of cold concern, as if he regretted this turn of events, but would choose it again if given the chance.
"What I had to do. Surely you noticed yourself, but the Virus is constantly evolving, growing resistant and adapting to any threat it faces. Each time she's defeated, she becomes stronger, wakes up faster. I tried almost everything to just get her to sleep, but the Virus woke her up… I stop her heart, and the Virus starts it again… I imagine this looks horrid, but I've exhausted my options to keep us both alive."
And Akira could only grimace as the man was proven right, Shiho shooting up in an animalistic fit as her heart kicked back into motion, blood falling from her eyes like tears as she fought her restraints.
"Then we cure her. Between the virus in her veins and the sample Mako brought, we should have more than enough to make a vaccine at the least."
"Mako?" Adachi asked in confusion then as Akira realized that his favorite Niijima wasn't around at all, and judging by the lack of recognition on the man's face, the plan went far worse than he thought.
"Makoto Niijima. She agreed to help me reach the school, Goro mentioned he was working with a professor to treat the Virus, and Mako said it was probably you. We split up, I took Shiho on the train while Mako brought the sample to you on her bike."
"I wouldn't trust Ms. Niijima personally, and even more so since I have not seen her, let alone been given a sample of anything."
And it was then that Akira felt intense anger at himself, beating himself up over how stupid he had been, his mind fuming as a part of himself refused to believe it. That something must have happened to delay her, that Makoto had not betrayed him, but the facts were building in disfavor of her.
Trusting a complete stranger because he trusted a different version of her, the differences between them already apparent as well, and he still made that mistake.
Mako had betrayed him, worst case scenario, or ran into some threat that ruined her side of the plan just as he had, but Akira knew better.
She lied and made off with the sample, and left him to his fate along with every other person that was relying on them to save them.
Akira swore he heard the sound of glass breaking, a red tint flooding his vision as the world began to grow dark.
I am thou… Thou art I…
Thou hast suffered a loss most grave.
As Fate shifts further, the bond you formed no longer exists, the link between your hearts shattered beyond reconciliation.
Fate has broken the strength of your heart, and no way forward lies before you.
With the ruin of the High Priestess Arcana, you have lost a piece of yourself that you will never recover…
"How odd, I don't think I've felt that before… The breaking of a Blood Vow, I must say it's worrying." Adachi's voice spoke aloud then, the world rushing back into focus as Akira found himself growing unsteady, the older man providing a welcome hand as Akira used his presence to ground him.
And almost like a magnetic repulsion struck him, Akira felt feelings and echoes flash across his mind, the world seen through a different set of eyes.
A blur of places and faces as feelings of anxiety and nausea overwhelmed him, metal soldiers marching through a town, gunfire and flames billowing out as rays of light tore through storm clouds, shining eyes in dark faces, the coppery taste of blood and the smell of rot in the air.
"Jester…"
"That was my oath with Yami, yes. High Priestess is what you lost just now, is it not?" Adachi said with a look of sincere concern, Akira's eyes darted around as he tried to wrestle his mind back from the abyss that had poured free, the presence of a rival bond weathering the lines between Akira and his predecessor, as he tried to remember who he was, where he was.
When he was.
It was like fighting an ocean, pushing aside glimpses and flashes of a life that didn't belong to him, flashes of a Wild Card with silver hair, of… a bear?
"Kurusu, breathe. Just breathe, alright? Now, I'm sorry, but we're not done. Goro, do you know where he went?"
Color melting ice, flashing lights and sounds, hands snaking across sand, fingers digging into bone.
"Kurusu."
A crowd watching with awe, fierce and harsh debates, a duel with bare hands, waters calm and wanderings with thoughts of regrets and hatred.
A gun fired into open air.
Blood.
Death.
Justice.
"He's… in the Palace. Tae Takemi's palace. She's responsible for all of this, Goro had it right…"
"Palace?" Adachi asked with a look of skewed confusion then as Kurusu's breathing evened out, the boy pale but managing to stand as he stepped forward, his eyes locked with the scarlet orbs of Shiho.
"Her cognitive realm… In the Metaverse."
"Her Channel. I see. Carry on."
"I was confronted by Takemi's Shadow and forced out by an ultimatum. I had to leave Akechi there, but I… I used the bond I share with him to loan him one of my Persona. I planned to get back, but Shiho found me, and Takemi's Shadow has control over Life and Death inside her palace. She brings her guards back from any death, and she… she snapped her fingers and killed me… I don't remember what happened after it, but I died. Not almost, not comatose. I was dead." Akira said with cold realization.
He finally got a chance to unload the madness he had endured in a single day, weeks of boredom quickly left by the wayside as he found himself fighting a horrid virus, being infected and cured of it, and then having to find an actual cure.
"I was… infected. I almost shot Akechi. Tae gave me a gun, and ran off. I pulled the trigger… and I awoke to Mephisto."
"That explains quite a bit, actually. I checked your vitals, and found no trace of the Hate Virus, not even the sleeper cells we found in 'recovered' subjects. I don't have a wealth of knowledge on it, but I theorize that when one awakens to their Persona, it purges the body of negative ailments. The other self purges the true self, if you would."
And just like that, Akira began to put together the pieces, Adachi letting him reach the conclusion on his own as the two stared at Shiho's bloodshot eyes.
The girl was beyond reason, as she snarled like a rabid beast.
"You know what I'm going to say, Kurusu."
"The Virus came from the Metaverse, and it has to be cured by the Metaverse…"
A straining of metal, the electricity just dancing over Shiho's skin as she leaned forward, charred flesh recoiling as her restraints began to twist. The metal chains began to give as a furious and monstrous roar broke its way out of her throat.
And Adachi handed Akira back his phone, the familiar sight of the Metanav instantly popping into view as Akira felt Mors begin to settle in his mind, Loki coiling around like thorns as he felt the weight of what he had to do.
"I have to take Shiho there, and awaken her Persona…"
"Yes. And I'm sorry, but you should know that an awakening is a defensive measure. You can't fake it, you can't trick it. To awaken her Persona, you can not look at her as an innocent, as a friend to be saved. When you are there, you must, with every ounce of your focus and will, try your utmost to kill her. Her life must be threatened, truly."
With a breath, a prayer left unsaid and far too many regrets left floating, Akira nodded dumbly as he tried to keep himself from arguing when he had no other options left.
"The app, that's how you access the Shadow Realm, right? I'm afraid we don't have much time left, and while a part of me wishes I could help you, I've already done too much… More than I was allowed to."
Just as Goro had done for him, Akira now faced the jaws of Death to save another soul, burning red eyes that should have been brown, an old friend left in the dark.
A sense of bitter resentment that Akira had never left behind, a time when he blamed Shiho for Ann's death, for the state he had found Ann in so long ago.
And now, he was the only one that could pull her back from the edge, save her from her own darkness.
With a final glance at Adachi, and a hesitant hand placed on Shiho's struggling shoulder, Akira opened the Metanav and resolved himself to this course of action.
It was time.
"Laboratory Of Tae Takemi."
" Beginning Navigation."
Veiled Intentions
"Consul, reporting in."
"I'm listening, your report?"
"We were correct, CC.021. The composition is exact."
"Then all that remains is to cut the connection inside her Delusion."
"I suggest Herald infiltrate to cut the connection, but be aware: We have interference."
"How so?"
"Takemi has ensnared Goro Akechi with her plot, and he and a transfer student have become involved in the Outbreak, and have somehow managed to infiltrate the Delusion."
"Do they pose a threat?"
"My observations point to no, but we must remain vigilant."
"Then do so. I shall dispatch Herald to resolve the situation, return to your post."
"As you command, Warden..."
It was hard to breathe, Akira found, the world fading into view as he now stood in an elaborate laboratory, vials of light and violent sights surrounding him as a gloom of rot sunk in.
Granted, observation of any kind was difficult when Akira found that Shiho's bindings had not traveled with them into the Palace. Now the maddened girl was trying her damndest to choke the life out of his body, her nails biting into flesh as she trapped his neck into an embrace of bloodshed and crazed eyes.
However, at least within the Metaverse, Akira could even the playing field with little difficulty, his mask roaring into being as a wave of flame shot forward from his body, a solar flare blazing forward as Shiho's dark form was twisted to the floor in vision of charred flesh and hoarse screams.
And yet, Akira would not be so lucky. While he slowly felt Mephisto's strength return to him across the weakening bond to Goro, Shiho stood through the agony plaguing her, glowing eyes snarling at him through a prison of flame.
In a moment, the flames were brought low as a rush of frost birthed into motion, a crown of shadow falling over Shiho's cruel gaze, a great rod of ice grasped in hand as Akira felt a chill rend his flesh down to the bone.
"It is not a girl we face…" Mors was quick to add as a field of thorns rose up to divide the two of them, a moment's reprieve to think as Akira began to long for the burning might of Mephisto's hellfire. Mors' dark energies and rotten vines paled in comparison as Akira watched the frozen form of Shiho walk through a rapidly wilting forest of darkness, a spear in hand ready to gut him with little hesitation.
With a heavy heart and stilted breath, Akira called forward his axe, the blade still as sharp as ever as he brought it down in front of him. A shockwave from the impact sent ripples through the fresh-laid frost.
And yet, Akira knew that it was a battle ahead.
No words would end this, and he could not reach her, couldn't save her from the hell Takemi had inflicted.
Not like this.
But he could wake her up, the hard way…
The words sprang from his lips as Mors fell over him like a cloak, a bitter snarl tearing at his lips as he dove forward on the assault.
"Dark Verdict!" Akira cried out as he brought the edge of Fleur Du Mal down on Shiho's left arm, her skin cracking like ice as that damn spear came jutting forward, time seeming to slow as Akira felt it glide just past his ribs, a chill following in its wake as life kicked back into motion.
Just an animalistic growl in response, frost flying forward from her fingertips as Shiho forced him backwards, Akira's best attempts to shield himself falling dull as he felt a distant lull come over him, the numbness of oncoming frostbite not far from seen.
And yet it only brought out a side of him that hadn't seen the light in far too long, the warrior, the paladin, the trickster that lurked under his skin for any chance at blood or glory.
"Wicked Curse!" An element Akira was very familiar with, a flash of dark energies flying forward in a swarm of brimstone as Mors appeared in a quick glimpse, its skeletal fingers drawing out some occult iconography as a heinous glare gleamed from its hollow eye sockets.
And yet the curse fell short, its effects seemingly useless as Shiho kept charging forward without end, a sleepless soldier controlled in mind and body.
A flash of scarlet, the spear's tip digging deep into his shoulder as Akira barely avoided the clear intent for his heart, a dense cold setting in as Akira saw his breath mist before him.
And the flat of his axe came swinging forward, crashing straight into Shido's face as hs sent the girl flying backwards with a loud clang, Akira giving out a cry as the spear ripped clean out and left him reeling backwards, blood pouring intensely from the wound as he watched it begin to freeze solid.
He could only stare forward as Shiho regained her footing, the girl leaning on the spear of frost for support as she staggered forward, a horrid grin splitting her face as he could see the blood trailing down from her horribly broken nose.
And marvel as the swarm of shadowy wisps that trailed around Shiho's head began to condense and take form, a dark helmet obscuring her face from view, two beastly horns standing at attention as she began to charge like a bull.
And Akira knew he wouldn't last much of a chance against her, not after the trials he had been forced into, wounded and less than himself, battered and tormented.
That gleam in her eyes, the ice spreading across his entire arm now, leaving him wielding his axe in the wrong hand and reliant on the small spark of power he had left in his bones.
Mors at an end, Loki a wellspring of power he dared not draw from, unwelcome specters in his mask that refused to answer the call of a man that no longer held claim to their loyalty, and Mephisto so far and yet so near, out of touch and out of mind.
He realized it was a mask that she wore now, that barbarian's facade that fit the bloodied beast Takemi had dressed her as, the fate he seemed unable to save her from.
And yet again, Shiho was failed by one who could make a difference, and lost to a tortured path that he could only watch and struggle not to follow.
He didn't blame her, Shiho, the real Shiho and not this pale reflection that Takemi had stolen from Shiho's mind and soul.
Hell, she probably didn't even know his name, not really, if she had been a thrall for so long.
And yet, he felt at peace with this, oddly.
At least within Takemi's palace, Shiho wouldn't hurt anyone else again, even if he could not save her.
He-
As he scrambled backwards in some vain attempt to make peace with a god that wasn't listening as she brought her spear to bear once more, a pitiful repeat that would put him down like another one of Takemi's guinea pigs.
And yet, Akira could only watch as shock actually flooded Shiho's eyes, a deafening gunshot ringing out as the helmet was flung from her head, a burst of blood pouring out from her eyes as an unholy scream tore from her throat, the shadows beginning to vanish as the crimson in her eyes bled away to an otherworldly gold.
Falling backwards from a sudden onslaught of frost all around them, a new ice age unleashed as the spear took form and substance, becoming a grand glaive of war, Shiho's tattered and bloody school uniform twisting into something akin to a viking's garb.
A spectral form of a woman burst to life behind her, long golden hair offset by large mechanical arms and menacing eyes staring at anything and everything as if it were a threat to be vanquished.
And beyond all of it, to Akira's relief and growing horror, stood Goro Akechi.
His metaversal garb coated in blood and grime, a mad gleam in his eyes tied to a confused grimace, a pistol pointed right at them with its barrel still wafting smoke as the force of the gunshot finally settled.
And a hellish look began to grow on his pale face, a smile that was sharper than any blade and was not meant to be there.
Not this time, not again, not him…
Shaking palms holding a gun with the ease of a professional, eyes narrowed in confusion paired with a sadist's grin.
A sharp tone, almost jovial but tinged with a fury that few ever saw, and fewer ever had directed at them.
But one that Akira firmly remembered.
"Honey… I'm home!"
It was Goro Akechi.
Wearing a Black Mask…
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Phoenixcatch7 on Chapter 1 Mon 05 Apr 2021 11:49AM UTC
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Mercury (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Apr 2021 07:30PM UTC
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Firehedgehog on Chapter 3 Sun 11 Apr 2021 12:56PM UTC
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Blabacon on Chapter 4 Wed 21 Apr 2021 03:47AM UTC
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Darkely on Chapter 4 Wed 21 Apr 2021 04:47AM UTC
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FavChanger on Chapter 4 Wed 21 Apr 2021 06:14AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 21 Apr 2021 06:44AM UTC
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