The Rise of Kotone

by Tg_tV_2023

Summary:

Kotone-a woman who wants to prove she belongs somewhere-she hadn’t been with the Shadow Operatives for long. Ever since discovering her Persona, she longed to be someone, to find her place especially after reuniting with her brother Mianto, but something invisible still held her back. As the risk of being let go from the team loomed, Kotone knew she had to prove herself on a critical new mission, a mission that could show everyone, including herself, who she truly was.

Chapter 1

Notes:

About dang time. But also this will be a Kotone solo story so not much of Yuuto in this one.

9/27/2027

Iwatodai it's city was lively as ever in the day, with people walking, talking, driving, living out ordinary lives beneath a late-September sky. Neon splashed over department store windows, a busker’s voice rose above the hum of engines, and the sea breeze carried hints of autumn from the bay. But standing tall above it all, as if warding the city against threats unseen, was the headquarters of the Shadow Operatives-a monument to vigilance, and to the legacy of S.E.E.S.

Things were busy inside, even under the steady hand of their new leader, Yuuto Saito. Missions came and went like the tides, new recruits were tested and seasoned alike, and every agent was pushed to their limits, reminded that peace was always fragile, always paid for by unseen battles. If anyone understood this-what it meant to fight alone in the dark and rise again-it was Yuuto.

But far below underground of headquarters, in a training room designed to mimic the Dark Hour, the air was different. Thicker. Closer. Shadows slithered and stalked the room, coalescing with every pulse of the sickly green moonlight conjured by the Dark Hour Box in the corner.

Here, the city’s distant laughter was nothing but a memory. Here, the world was hostile, and everything good seemed impossibly far away.

A slender spear flashed in the gloom-a line of silver slicing through the black. With practiced precision, Kotone twisted her wrists, the spear spinning in her grip, and drove its tip through the mask of a lurching Shadow. It burst into a thousand black motes, but two more closed in at her flanks, gibbering hungrily.

Kotone’s breath came fast, but she didn’t let herself hesitate. Not today.

“Orpheus!” she shouted, voice cracking with strain. The evoker’s cold touch pressed against her temple. She pulled the trigger.

A shock tore through her mind-a familiar agony, both burning and blissful. And in the next instant, her Persona bloomed into existence, her Orpheus, with golden trim along his lyre and red, flame-like accents at his joints. Where Minato’s was pale and cool, hers seemed almost angry, regal, blood-lit. Where it's eyes were blue, Orpheus’s gaze burned red, like embers beneath ashes.

The Shadows recoiled, hissing. But Kotone did not give herself time to be afraid.

“Agilao!” she commanded, and Orpheus responded in a sweep of the lyre. Fire burst across the room, painting the stone with searing orange, banishing three Shadows to nothing. The fourth-a hulking brute-rushed her, claw raised. She spun low, dragging her spear in a crescent, and the tip carved through the Shadow’s shin, sending it tumbling.

For a moment, adrenaline drowned out everything else. This was what she was good at. She could fight-she could win. She would not be left behind. But she was pushing herself too hard, and she knew it.

Already her lungs burned, every muscle in her arms trembling with the effort of keeping the spear up. Sweat trickled into her eyes, stinging. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and every spell left her more drained than the last. Still, she pressed on, calling Orpheus again and again, as if sheer effort could erase the ache in her chest-a hollow place that always whispered, "You’re not enough. You’re only here because they let you be here. You’re a burden... no prove them your not!"

More Shadows appeared and one Shadow lashed out, claws grazing her shoulder. Pain exploded down her arm. She grit her teeth and struck back, legs buckling, barely dodging a second swipe.

Her spear was heavy now-so much heavier than when she’d started-her arms trembling as she pulled it back, sweat running in hot rivulets down her jaw. The Shadows moved relentlessly, flickering and warping in that sickly green Dark Hour light, their forms barely held together by malice and hunger. The air was thick with their presence, oppressive and cold, every breath Kotone took felt like inhaling fog.

A smaller Shadow darted in, jaws wide, and she let out a sharp cry, pushing herself off balance just to avoid its fangs. She swung wide, but her grip faltered, the spear scraping across the floor. Shadows pressed in-she was surrounded. Every instinct screamed at her to keep fighting, to never stop, not when it mattered, not when everyone expected her to be strong.

She squeezed the Evoker in her hand, pressing it to her temple with a shaking hand, and forced herself to shout, “Jack Frost!”

The world flickered, a strange, chill energy pooling at her feet. A stubby, blue-capped snowman materialized with a cheery “Hee-ho!” Jack Frost’s bright grin was such a stark contrast to the darkness that it almost seemed like a joke, but Kotone didn’t hesitate. “Bufula!” she managed, breathless.

A burst of ice erupted, shards spiraling from Jack Frost’s outstretched hands, encasing one of the Shadows in a shell of crystalline frost. It screamed, writhing, before shattering into nothingness. Another lunged for her back, and Kotone spun, the movement almost costing her balance, eyes wild. Her wounds ached, the blood from her shoulder sticky and hot.

She heard her heart in her ears. The pressure was mounting, an avalanche behind her ribs. "Not enough. Not enough. Gotta do better. I can still do this!"

The next Shadow was faster, a sinuous thing with too many eyes. She barely dodged, rolling and feeling every bruise as she scrambled to her feet. “Unicorn!” she cried, the Evoker once more biting cold against her skin. The majestic Persona emerged in a shimmer of light, its horn glinting. Kotone’s voice was hoarse. “Media!”

Healing energy swept over her, closing some of the wounds, but the ache remained, a stubborn fatigue deep in her bones. Still, the Shadows were closing in. She switched again, calling on “Berith!” The knight rider appeared on it's horse with a it's spear. “Agi!”

A gout of flame arced across the floor, driving back two of the Shadows. For a moment, their numbers thinned, and Kotone stood alone, panting, surrounded by swirling motes of darkness. But the training room didn’t let up. The air felt thick as oil. The Dark Hour Box in the corner pulsed, casting an eldritch glow over every corner in the room.

Her arms trembled. Her vision swam. Every time she called a Persona, the feedback felt stronger, harsher, like fire in her veins. Her mind threatened to fracture with each summon, and her body was already stretched to its limits. Still, she pressed the Evoker to her head, again and again, desperate to prove herself, to banish the voice in her mind that said she was only here by luck and pity.

A Shadow managed to get in close, slashing across her side. She gasped, stumbling, the spear falling from her hands with a clatter. "Why am I not strong enough?" She thought, tears of frustration stinging her eyes, "Why can’t I keep up?"

She tried to get up-she had to keep going-but her knees buckled, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The training room pressed in tighter, the simulated night feeling all too real, shadows crawling across the floor, eager to devour the light. The pain from her wounds blurred with the ache of exhaustion, a hollow echo in her chest that grew with every beat of her heart.

But as she was about to force herself upright, everything changed. The Dark Hour’s emerald luminescence flickered and faded. Shadows unraveled into harmless mist. With a mechanical whirr, the Dark Hour Box in the corner powered down, cutting the simulation short. The training room’s oppressive darkness peeled away, replaced by white light and the soft hum of air conditioning, leaving Kotone on her knees, sweat-soaked and shaking, the weight of defeat heavy on her shoulders.

Then she heard her name-gentle, familiar, but carrying an edge of concern. “Kotone?” The sound drifted from the doorway, careful not to startle her.

Blinking through the last traces of disorientation, Kotone looked up and found Sae standing just inside the threshold. Even now, dressed in a navy tunic that gently accentuated her figure, there was no hiding Sae’s pregnancy. At three months along with twins, her silhouette was a little fuller, her movements just slightly slower. Her hand rested protectively on her belly, but her eyes were sharp, searching Kotone’s face for any sign of serious harm.

Sae approached, her shoes making soft clicks on the polished floor. She crouched with a wince-her own body shifting more cautiously these days-and extended a hand. “You’re going too hard on yourself again,” she said, voice low but steady, as if hoping to anchor Kotone back to herself.

Kotone’s eyes dropped, her shoulders curling inward, the shame almost as biting as her injuries. “Sorry, Sae. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I just…” Her voice trailed off, brittle as autumn leaves. She forced herself to look at Sae, eyes flicking to her stomach and back. “Sometimes, I wish you could join me in there. It’s just… easier when you’re fighting by my side.”

Sae managed a small, wistful smile. “I wish I could, too. But being three months pregnant-with twins, no less-I’d only slow you down right now.” She squeezed Kotone’s shoulder, her grip warm and grounding.

With surprising strength, Sae helped Kotone to her feet. Kotone winced, feeling every ache and bruise settle into her bones. The two stood side by side for a moment, breathing in the sterile air. Sae’s expression softened. “Whatever’s in your head.. you need to let it go. You’re more than capable, Kotone. You have the power to change Personas, just like Minato does. Whatever is wrong-”

But Kotone shook her head, brushing sweat-soaked bangs from her eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just… an off day. I’m fine. Just kind of down, that’s all.”

Sae regarded her for a long moment, reading between the lines as only someone who’d carried her own burdens could. Silence hung between them like a curtain, neither willing to pull it aside. Finally, Sae sighed, letting the moment pass without prying further. “Go, get into something comfortable. Training’s over. You’ve done enough for today.”

Kotone offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.” Her voice was soft, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to stop. As she left, Sae watched her go, worry threading through her thoughts. Five months of training, and Kotone’s progress was slower than expected. The lack of growth, the growing self-doubt-that worried Sae more than any physical wound.

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A shower and change later, Kotone felt at least a little more herself. The rough edges of exhaustion dulled beneath the warmth of clean skin and the comfort of a soft, orange dress. She paired it with a beige jacket, letting the fabric settle like armor against the world. On the upper floors, the city stretched out beyond panoramic windows.

She wandered quietly, seeking out a familiar presence. She hoped to see Yuuto-maybe talk, maybe just listen. But as she drew near his office, a sharp, plaintive sound pierced the stillness, a baby crying, shrill and insistent. She paused, startled. The sound was coming from inside Yuuto’s office and peaked inside.

Inside, the fluorescent light was gentle, bouncing off bookshelves and files stacked with careful order. Yuuto stood at his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, trying his best to cradle a tiny, squirming bundle. Asami, just four months old, was red-faced and fussy in his arms, tears streaking her cheeks, little hands clenched as if she could hold the world at bay.

Yuuto’s usually calm expression wavered as he bounced her. “Come on, kiddo… You can’t have forgotten what I look like already, can you?” he said, voice warm with mock exasperation, though a fond smile tugged at his lips. But Asami only wailed louder, arms flailing.

From the front of Yuuto's desk, Mitsuru stepped forward, her composure unbroken even as she accepted the baby with practiced grace. Her hair glinted in the lights from the window, and as she tucked Asami against her shoulder, she murmured, “There’s my little ice cube. Hush now, it’s alright.” Asami quieted almost instantly, sniffling, tiny hands gripping Mitsuru’s lapel.

Minato who was next to Mitsuru, half-shadowed by dusk, eyes calm and blue as the sea at night. He glanced at Yuuto with a faint smirk. “That’s a record. Two minutes before she demands a change of arms. She must know you’re out of your element.”

Yuuto rolled his eyes, letting the gentle banter soften the tension in the room. “I’m a master mixologist, but I guess I'm not a miracle worker for her,” he retorted, and the ghost of a laugh flickered in the air, warm despite everything.

But the atmosphere quickly shifted as Minato grew serious, asking the question on everyone’s mind. “So… why did you call us here?”

For a moment, Yuuto didn’t answer. The hum of the office felt louder for his silence. He was usually so composed, but now his gaze dropped to his hands, thumb rubbing the edge of his wedding band as if to ground himself.

Kotone, just outside the doorway, caught the tension and felt her heart pound. Something was wrong-she could feel it in the air, the way the light flickered across Mitsuru’s features, the slight furrow in Minato’s brow. Her breath hitched, feet rooted to the spot, as if moving closer might change the outcome.

Finally, Yuuto spoke, his voice softer than usual, colored by the weight of what he had to say. “It’s about Kotone.”

Every muscle in Kotone’s body went tight. She pressed a palm against the wall, steadying herself, fear prickling under her skin. Mitsuru’s gaze slid sideways, concern flickering in her eyes.

Yuuto drew in a long, steadying breath. “It’s been months now since Kotone joined us. I’ve seen her fight, seen her grow. She has so much potential-we all know she does. I’ve tried everything to help her improve, even had Ren train with her. We all want her to succeed. But…” He trailed off, looking out over the city lights as if searching for the right words in their glow.

Mitsuru’s expression was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. Minato, too, said nothing, his silence neither condemning nor encouraging-just waiting, patient as the tide.

Yuuto’s voice was steady, but there was sorrow in it now, and maybe guilt too. “But she’s stuck. Something is holding her back, and if she can’t figure it out-if we can’t help her break through-I worry about what might happen on the field. I worry about her safety. We all know the cost of hesitation.”

He stopped, throat working, and it was Minato who prompted him, gentle but insistent. “Yuuto?”

Yuuto’s eyes flicked up, full of that quiet, relentless care he always carried for his team. “If things don’t change… I think it might be best to let her go. Not as a punishment. For her own sake. So she can safe.” His voice broke a little, and he looked away, unable to meet their eyes.

A hush fell across the room. Mitsuru’s lips parted in surprise, concern knitting her brow. Minato’s eyes sharpened, every muscle tense, as if the words alone could summon a new enemy. Even Asami, content in Mitsuru’s arms, stilled for a moment-something about the shift in the air making her tiny fists uncurl.

Then the door slammed open. All eyes snapped to the threshold, where Kotone stood, red-eyed and trembling, framed by the harsh corridor lights. Her voice, raw and shaking, broke the spell. “You’re gonna do what?”

The words crackled in the air, too loud, too honest, echoing off the walls. Yuuto took a step forward, hands raised in a soothing gesture. “Kotone, you shouldn’t-”

But she cut him off, voice rising, desperate. “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be here! Don’t tell me you’re giving up on me-I’m not done! Please, please, just let me stay! I know I’ve been struggling, I know it hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying-really, I am. I don’t want to be let go, I don’t want to be pushed aside, not after everything. I just… I just want to be here. I want to belong somewhere. Please, Yuuto, just give me a chance. Give me something. I need to prove I can do this.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, the plea at the end thick with tears and determination. “If there’s a mission-anything-something that needs what I can do, let me try. Just one more chance.”

The silence that followed was a living thing, pulsing with all the unsaid fears and hopes in the room. Yuuto watched her, the lines of responsibility and worry etched deep into his face, and for a moment he looked much older than thirty-two. Mitsuru’s gaze darted between them, sympathy warring with the steel of leadership. Minato’s jaw clenched, blue eyes filled with a bit of heartache... after all this was his sister.

Yuuto finally spoke, his tone gentle but edged with pain. “Kotone, it’s not about giving up on you. It’s about wanting you to be okay. But if you’re asking for one last chance-”

“I am,” Kotone whispered, fierce. “I need this. Let me prove myself.”

Yuuto looked at Minato, silent communication passing between them like a current. Minato nodded, slow and certain, his eyes never leaving his sister’s. “Wait here with Mitsuru,” Yuuto said at last, his voice a careful promise. “Minato and I need to talk.”

As the two men slipped out, Kotone’s composure cracked, her hands clenched tight in her arms, knuckles white against the orange of her dress. Mitsuru crossed to her side, standing with Kotone with something warm and sisterly. Mitsuru was beside Kotone, her hands gentle on the younger woman’s head.

“It's going to be okay,” Mitsuru said quietly, the words almost lost in the hum of the building. “Whatever happens, you are not alone in this." Kotone nodded, but her breath hitched, and she buried her face in her hands.

Yuuto and Minato stood quietly in the hallway outside Yuuto's office, their shadows stretching long across the polished marble floor of the Shadow Operatives’ headquarters. The low hum of ceiling lights overhead barely cut through the heavy stillness between them. The silence wasn’t awkward-it was heavy with thought, introspection, and something unspoken lingering in the air. Yuuto had his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in that way Minato had come to recognize-not anger, but conflict. Deep conflict. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Minato’s calm gaze flickered to Yuuto’s, watching the man’s jaw clench slightly as if sifting through thoughts too complex to voice easily. Yuuto, usually a man of quick reasoning and gentle poise, now looked like someone trying to hold an entire sea of weight behind his eyes.

Finally, Yuuto exhaled. “She overheard everything,” he said, voice low.

Minato didn’t need to speak. The subject had lingered for a while now, unspoken but present-Yuuto questioning Kotone’s ability to truly step into her role as a Shadow Operative. She had potential, yes. A heart that yearned to do good. But there were cracks in her armor, too-hesitation, self-doubt, a tendency to act too much from emotion rather than experience. And Yuuto, ever the realist cloaked in idealism, had reached a point of painful contemplation.

He turned, finally meeting Minato’s gaze. “She said she wants to prove herself.” He paused, his voice tightening. “Like I said... I even had Ren try to help her... He tried to help her on technique, perception, confidence… but if she can’t figure out how to stop self-doubt, or channel what she’s really capable of…”

Yuuto trailed off, then stepped forward slightly, lowering his arms as his fingers laced together, knuckles pale. “I’ve got one mission I could assign her to. Low-risk, on the surface... with a few friends of mine. But the kind of place where cracks show. And I need to know what you think. Because she’s your sister, Minato. And I… I can’t pretend like I’m the only one who cares.”

Minato was silent for a long time, letting the weight of Yuuto’s words rest between them. His own memories began to rise-hazy and painful, yet somehow gentle. Kotone, years ago, giggling too loudly at quiet jokes, clinging to him with childlike energy. When they were separated, it broke her in small ways when she grew up without him. She had always been different from him-softer, even. But there was strength in that softness. A fierce will to protect, a hope that never fully withered even through all the scars time dealt them.

Minato turned his eyes down the long corridor ahead, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “She’s not like me,” he said at last, voice even. “She never was... never will be in some ways. And sometimes… I wish she’d take things a little more seriously. She pushes herself too hard, and then blames herself when she falters... even when she tries not to.” His voice deepened with memory. “But she’s got a good heart. And ever since we reunited… she’s been trying. Really trying. Because she finally feels like she belongs somewhere. The Shadow Operatives gave her a purpose-something she didn’t think she’d ever have.”

Minato’s words were soft, almost reverent, but the weight behind them pressed like thunderclouds about to break. Yuuto watched his brother-in-law, his own heart caught in a slow, persistent ache that lived somewhere between protectiveness and doubt. The hallway felt impossibly long, as if it was made for confessions and choices that would change the shape of people’s lives forever.

Yuuto nodded, but the lines between his brows deepened, reluctant. “If I send her… if something happens…” he started, but Minato gently raised a hand, placing it on Yuuto’s shoulder-steady, the way only someone who’d already walked through fire could be.

“She’s my sister,” Minato said, his voice strong now, a rare, almost imperceptible smile breaking through the gravity of his features. “And, yes, there’s a part of me that wants to keep her away from anything dangerous, to keep her in a place where nothing can ever hurt her. But if she wants to prove herself, if she wants to stand with the rest of the Shadow Operatives… then I have to let her try.” He looked at Yuuto, and for a moment, their roles were reversed—the younger man steady as a mountain, Yuuto the one wavering in the wind. “If you think this can help, let her go. I’ll trust your judgment. She needs this, Yuuto. And… I need to see her believe in herself.”

Yuuto hesitated, as if the world itself had slowed to a single, critical moment. He looked into Minato’s eyes, searching for even the faintest glimmer of uncertainty, but there was none. Only trust. Only hope. Finally, Yuuto let out a long, slow breath that seemed to take a piece of his own burdens with it. “Are you sure?” Yuuto asked, voice low, as if seeking one last sign.

Minato’s smile returned, a gentle curve-soft, private, but unshakable. “I’m sure.” For a brief, wordless second, the two simply nodded-one movement, two men. The silence between them shifted from heaviness to understanding. A kind of peace. Together, they turned and stepped back through the door into the brightly lit conference room.

Kotone was there, sitting on the edge of a chair with her hands anxiously twisting in her lap, looking like she was doing her best not to bounce out of her seat. The moment the door opened, she looked up, bright hope and brittle nerves all tangled up in her eyes. Yuuto stood in the center of the room, his presence calm but unmistakably commanding, the very image of someone who’d had to become strong to survive. Minato lingered just behind, silent, watchful.

Kotone straightened, heart pounding. “Well? Am I… am I getting another chance?” She bit her lip, knuckles pale against her skirt.

Yuuto’s lips quirked with a rare, almost mischievous smile-a flash of the gentle humor he only showed when he wanted to ease someone’s fear. “If you want to prove to me you can handle being a Shadow Operative… then I have a mission for you.”

Her face lit up instantly, brightening like a window thrown open to summer sunlight. “Really? What is it?!” Her words tumbled over each other in their eagerness.

Yuuto lifted a single brow, voice adopting a playful, mysterious edge. “It’s a place where not much happens… at least, not on the surface. But there are secrets there, things you have to be careful to notice. It can get a little loud, sometimes chaotic, and it’s easy for people to overlook what’s important. It’s not a place that gets much attention-at least, not the right kind. But that means it’s perfect for learning how to blend in, to watch without being seen, to find the truth buried under the noise.”

Kotone’s excitement faltered as she tried to piece it together. Yuuto’s words spun a web of possibilities, each less appealing than the last. He watched as confusion turned to realization, and realization to horror. The color drained from her cheeks. “No…” she whispered, already half-doubled over, hands clutching at her legs as if bracing for disaster. Everyone else stilled, breaths caught. For a long, dramatic moment, the world held its breath with her.

“No-please, not Detroit! Anything but that...” she whimpered, the word bursting out with the helpless dread of someone about to be sent to the world’s most terrifying pit.

A beat of silence, then from the doorway, Asami let out a delighted, hiccupping laugh-sweet and innocent, shattering the tension like glass. Yuuto blinked, then cracked a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You’re not going to Detroit, Kotone.”

Relief flooded her, so powerful she nearly sagged onto the floor. She scrambled to her feet, red-faced and wide-eyed.

“You’re going to Inaba,” Yuuto said, his voice gentling, though the challenge in it was clear.

Kotone blinked a few times, uncertain if she’d heard right. She pushed herself up from the edge of the chair, wiping at her eyes, and stared at Yuuto as if waiting for a punchline. “Wait… Inaba? As in, that Inaba? Where you had your first mission?”

Yuuto’s smile curved with a warmth that softened the edges of his usual composure. “That’s the one,” he replied, his tone carrying memories of the first time he went to Inaba. “It’s the right place. And the right people are there. You’ll find support… and maybe a little bit of trouble, if you know where to look.” He walked to his desk with unhurried grace, fingers trailing over the polished wood. He picked up a slim folder and, after a pause, handed it to Kotone. “This will tell you everything you need. The job’s low-profile, but it’ll test you in ways training never can. And knowing the friends you’ll have there-well, if anyone can help you find your confidence, it’s them. But only if you believe you can do it.”

The folder was light in her hands, but the weight of it pressed on Kotone’s chest. For a heartbeat, the old doubt slithered back in-she could fail. She could freeze up. She could let everyone down, just like the voice in her head always warned.

But no-no, Kotone wouldn’t listen to that voice. Not this time. She met Yuuto’s gaze, searching it for any hint of false reassurance. Instead, she found only quiet trust, patient and unyielding.

She drew in a breath. “I’ll do it,” she said, voice steady, even if her hands trembled. “I want to prove myself… to you, to everyone, but mostly to me.”

Yuuto’s lips twitched in that rare, secret smile-the one that always made her feel a little stronger, a little braver. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.” He rapped his knuckles against the desk, settling the mood with a gentle finality. “You leave tomorrow morning. Get some rest, Kotone. You’ll need it.”

Mitsuru offered a nod, her eyes glimmering with that mix of pride and protectiveness she reserved for those she truly cared for. Minato’s gaze lingered on Kotone-brotherly, watchful, and quietly aching. Kotone clutched the folder to her chest, and for the first time in weeks, the hollowness inside felt just a little less consuming.

Notes:

As always shout to the one and only void on ko-fi.com/drawingthelinesvoid!

Chapter 2

Notes:

Sorry took awhile!

9/28/2027

At her apartment, Kotone paced the living room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes and little essentials strewn across the bed in careful, nervous piles. The morning light was thin and gray, leaking around the faded blinds, giving the small space a quiet, almost underwater calm. Her spear-her constant companion-rested by the window. It looked impossibly out of place amid the scattered notebooks and travel-size bottles of shampoo, like a weapon set down by accident in someone else’s life.

Kotone picked it up, feeling the cool metal beneath her palm. She pressed her thumb against the concealed button near the hilt. With a soft, mechanical snick, the weapon folded in on itself, shrinking down until it was no longer a gleaming lance, but a slender metal rod-barely longer than her forearm. She slid it into a long, padded case, then tucked it gently among her clothes. The case was new, bought specifically for this trip. For this mission.

Mission. The word echoed hollowly in her mind. She turned back to the folder Yuuto had given her yesterday, thumbing through the thin stack of papers. Details, names, addresses-her assignment, clear as day, Shadow activity detected in Inaba. Unknown source. Surveillance and support required for local Investigation Team. Maintain discretion. Report anomalies. Eliminate threats.

It read like a checklist, but Kotone’s heart beat faster as she absorbed the implications. Even with the Investigation Team on site-even with all their years of experience-something felt off. The reports spoke of Shadows appearing in the periphery of town, rumors of odd accidents and surges in emotional unrest. Something new was festering in Inaba, and no one knew why.

This is it, she thought, hands trembling as she reread the mission’s final line, “Trust yourself.”

She closed the folder, hugging it to her chest for a moment. She’d wanted a chance-one last chance-and here it was. She’d fight for her place, for her worth, for whatever it was that had cracked inside her heart but refused to break.

Kotone drew in a slow, trembling breath. She pressed her forehead to the cool cardboard, letting her eyes close, feeling the folder’s edges dig gently into her skin-a tangible anchor in the whirlwind of uncertainty. The room was quiet, but her thoughts churned with the weight of all that had led her here: the months of exhaustion, self-doubt, aching hope. This was it. There would be no turning back.

She straightened, wiping at her face with the heel of her palm. "This is something I have to do." She told herself-not for Yuuto, or Minato, or even Mitsuru, but for herself. Because something deep inside her demanded she keep moving forward, even if it hurt.

As the adrenaline faded, practical questions tugged at her. Where would she even stay in Inaba? She rifled quickly through the folder, eyes scanning address after address, hoping for mention of a guesthouse or safehouse. Nothing clear. Was she supposed to just show up and figure it out? A familiar anxiety prickled, but before she could spiral, a sharp, urgent sound cut through her thoughts.

A car horn-deep, authoritative-blared from the street outside, shattering the fragile stillness of her apartment. Kotone startled, heart leaping, and rushed to the window. Below, a black limousine gleamed in the early light, its presence so at odds with the cracked sidewalks and worn storefronts that for a second, it barely seemed real. The passenger door swung open, and Minato stepped out, calm and grave as ever, the wind ruffling his blue hair. He glanced up, eyes meeting hers through the glass, and nodded.

Kotone let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Everything was happening too fast-too suddenly-but she couldn’t allow herself to hesitate. Not now. She gathered her suitcase, zipped it with shaking hands, and tucked her spear case securely on top. She paused for one last look at her home, the faded posters, the chipped mug on the counter, the cluttered stack of books she’d promised herself she’d finish reading someday. Then, jaw set, she turned and hurried downstairs.

The world felt impossibly large and bright as she stepped outside. She blinked against the morning sun, dragging her suitcase across the cracked pavement. Minato was waiting by the car door, hands in his pockets, his expression as hard to read as ever-but Kotone could see the worry etched at the corners of his eyes.

He opened the door for her, and Kotone slid into the backseat, the door closing with a hush that muffled the world outside. The interior was cool, the seats plush beneath her aching muscles. Mitsuru sat opposite, every inch the image of poised elegance, a sleeping Asami cradled in her arms. The baby’s small, perfect hand curled in Mitsuru’s lapel, cheeks pink with sleep.

Kotone felt herself soften. She reached out, gently brushing her niece’s downy hair, and Asami stirred, eyes fluttering open to fix on Kotone with a gummy, innocent grin. The sight made Kotone’s heart catch, somehow, in all the pressure and pain, there was still space for something gentle.

Mitsuru smiled-small, but sincere. “She always perks up when you’re near,” she said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Kotone’s eyes. Then, her tone shifted, earnest and searching, “Are you sure you want to do this? There’s still time to step back.”

Kotone met Mitsuru’s gaze, searching her friend’s eyes for the familiar, unyielding strength. But today, beneath that composure, she glimpsed genuine worry-the kind that lingered even after a smile. Kotone’s heart squeezed, and for a moment, the question echoed in her chest, testing her resolve. She looked down at Asami, at the tiny hand curled in Mitsuru’s lap, then back up.

“I’m sure,” Kotone said, her voice soft but steady. “I have to do this.” The words came out a whisper, but the conviction behind them was solid. She couldn’t retreat now-not when something inside her had demanded this last chance to prove she was more than a shadow of the person she’d been.

Minato remained silent, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the window. He looked calm-calm in that unique, weighty way he always did, carrying storms behind his eyes that he never let slip. But Kotone could see it, the glint of determination that lived in him, a reflection of her own. She knew he believed in her. That knowledge didn’t shock her. It was like a constant warmth at her back, even now. He didn’t need to say anything for her to feel his confidence.

The limousine pulled away from her old apartment, engine humming softly as the city began to blur outside the windows. Kotone watched the familiar streets slip past-rusted signs, vending machines, the stray cat perched on a stoop. Each sight felt like a chapter closing, a silent goodbye. She gripped the handle of her suitcase, the weight of her spear’s case pressing comfortingly against her leg.

The drive was quiet at first, the car’s interior a cocoon of leather and hushed voices. Mitsuru murmured to Asami, rocking her gently, while Minato sat opposite Kotone, occasionally glancing at her with those unreadable eyes. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly-more like the world was holding its breath, waiting for what came next.

When the city finally gave way to the countryside, golden light spilling across the train tracks, the limousine pulled into the modest train station at Inaba’s edge. The platform was empty except for a station attendant and a flock of crows perched along the wires. The train hadn’t arrived yet, only a distant rumble promised its approach. Mitsuru glanced at Minato, her eyes speaking what her lips didn’t-a gentle urging, a silent plea.

Minato inhaled, the sound almost lost beneath the distant clang of train bells. He straightened, stepping out onto the platform, his blue hair catching the morning sun. Kotone followed, dragging her suitcase beside her, the air crisp and faintly scented with autumn.

They stood together, a little apart from Mitsuru and Asami, whose quiet voices drifted behind them. Kotone broke the silence first, a crooked grin on her lips. “You’re not going to try and talk me out of it, are you?” she teased, voice light but edged with something deeper. “Or do you just want me to stay because you’ll miss having someone to scold?”

Minato’s mouth twitched into a smile, a genuine, brief spark of amusement. “I’ll manage,” he replied, the words warm. “But you know I’m confident in you.” He looked at her for a moment, eyes searching, as if memorizing every freckle and scar on her face. The silence lingered, gentle and loaded. Then, softly, he asked, “Are you truly confident in yourself?”

Kotone stared down at the cracked platform beneath her feet, her hands gripping the handle of her suitcase so tightly that her knuckles blanched. The question echoed in her head, loud and bitter as static. She wanted to answer right away-of course she was confident, of course she was ready-but the words snagged in her throat. There was something there, old and restless, stirring just beneath the surface. She could feel Minato’s gaze on her, patient but unyielding, refusing to let her hide behind a quick lie.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the chill autumn air. The wind tugged at the edge of her jacket, and in that moment, she felt terribly small, a shadow among giants. “I… I wish I could say yes, just like that,” Kotone murmured finally, her voice almost lost beneath the shriek of a distant crow. “Ever since we… ever since we went our separate ways, I’ve felt like someone always standing to the side. Like I’m just… extra. Not important enough to be in the center, never the one people think of first.” She forced herself to look up, meeting his eyes, the hurt plain on her face. “It makes me feel weak. Sometimes I wonder if people even remember I exist at all.”

Minato didn’t flinch. He listened, really listened, not interrupting or offering empty reassurances. Kotone went on, her voice steadier, a confession she’d been carrying for years finding its shape at last. “But after I became a Shadow Operative… it’s like, for the first time, I could see that maybe I mattered to someone. Maybe there’s a place for me, somewhere-even if I’m always doubting it. I want to belong. I want to do something that means I won’t be forgotten, or useless.”

For a long moment, Minato said nothing, his expression unreadable but gentle. Kotone could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the careful way he chose every word. She wondered if he saw himself in her doubts, or if his strength had always been effortless. “You’ve always seemed so sure,” she continued, a note of envy in her voice. “Even coming back from… from the Great Seal, you still have everything sorted out. You found your place again. Me… I feel like I have nothing left except this chance. I want to belong with the Shadow Operatives. I want… I just want to feel like I’m part of something real.”

She stopped, chest tight, heart thudding painfully against her ribs. The sound of the approaching train rumbled through the countryside, growing louder, a promise and a threat rolled into one. Minato was silent, but the silence felt full-heavy with everything they’d left unsaid since their lives had splintered apart. She saw it, in the faint lines around his eyes: the memory of their parents, the shared ache of separation, the ways their paths could have stayed together if only the world had been different. But it wasn’t, and now here they were-two siblings on the edge of something vast and uncertain, neither quite knowing how to reach the other.

Minato finally reached out, his touch warm and grounding on Kotone’s arm. His words, when they came, were careful. “If you ever need anything… if it ever feels too much, or you feel alone, you know you can call, right?” There was a note of pleading in his voice, subtle but there-he wanted her to trust him, to let herself be helped, even if they’d both spent so long carrying things alone.

Kotone’s mouth curled in a wry smile, her eyes prickling. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind,” she managed, the old banter rising between them for a moment, a thin shield against the rawness. She looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Mitsuru standing near the limousine, Asami still dozing peacefully against her chest. Mitsuru lifted a hand in a graceful, silent wave, her eyes lingering on Kotone with quiet encouragement.

The train thundered into the station, brakes screeching as it slowed. Its arrival broke the spell of the moment; Kotone inhaled deeply, steeling herself. She bent to grab her suitcase, shifting the spear’s padded case more securely under her arm. She offered Mitsuru a wave-half farewell, half promise-and squared her shoulders.

The platform was flooded with golden morning light as she stepped toward the open train door. She turned, one last time, to look at Minato and Mitsuru-her family, bound together by scars and stubborn hope. Mitsuru moved to stand at Minato’s side, her posture regal as ever, but her hand slipped into her husband’s. For a second, Kotone saw how tightly Mitsuru held on-not just to Minato, but to the hope that Kotone would be safe, that she’d find what she was looking for out there.

As Kotone boarded, Minato’s eyes didn’t leave her. There was no grand speech, no tearful goodbye, just a steady gaze and a nod-his faith in her carried silently between them. She disappeared into the train, the door hissing shut behind her, the world of the station receding as the engine shuddered back to life.

The train lurched forward, bearing Kotone away from the station and into the unknown. She found an empty seat by the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching the countryside unspool in a blur of gold and green. Her mind raced with memories-childhood laughter, rainy nights in the dorm, the feeling of being afraid. All of it was behind her now, all of it fueling her resolve to make something of herself, to become someone she could believe in.

Outside, the last image she caught of the platform was Mitsuru standing next to Minato, her posture as graceful and unyielding as ever, her daughter cradled in her arms. Mitsuru leaned in, her voice soft but edged with the quiet steel that had always marked her, “You know, the two of you are more alike than you think.” Her eyes lingered on the receding train, worry and pride warring in her gaze.

Minato’s answer was simple, spoken in that gentle, deliberate way he had when words mattered. “I know.” He paused, fingers tightening just slightly around Mitsuru’s hand. “I’m confident she can do this, even if I hope she doesn’t have to prove herself the hard way.” His eyes never left the place where Kotone had disappeared, the longing for his sister to find peace hidden beneath a layer of steady calm. Mitsuru squeezed his hand in answer. Then, together, they turned away, the early light painting their silhouettes onto the platform as the train carried Kotone further and further from everything familiar.

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Inside the carriage, Kotone sat quietly, her bags tucked close. She watched as telephone wires, rice fields, and half-remembered shrines flashed by in a hazy mosaic. The world looked so different in motion-she felt untethered, a single point in the current of passing towns and blurring faces. There was a loneliness to travel, but also a strange freedom. For the first time in a long while, her fate was entirely her own.

The minutes dragged and twisted. Kotone’s breath fogged the window, the chill a comfort against her skin. Her thoughts wandered. What would she do once she reached Inaba? The folder hadn’t given her much: addresses, vague instructions, warnings to stay hidden and report anything odd. There was no mention of a safehouse, no guarantee of shelter. Would she be left to drift, as she had so many times before, finding her way in back alleys and train stations, trusting instinct and stubbornness to see her through? Unless Yuuto had something planned?

To distract herself, Kotone pulled out her phone, turning it over in her palm. The familiar weight of the device was oddly soothing-so many connections, memories, and lifelines tucked into a few inches of plastic and glass. She flicked through her gallery, searching for comfort in the images she’d saved. The first picture was blurry and bright: her shaking hands clasped in Yuuto, both of them laughing in awkward relief on her first day with the Shadow Operatives. Yuuto looked strong and self-possessed, his eyes kind even behind his careful composure. He had been a steadying force, an anchor in stormy seas.

The next photo made her smile-a group shot with Aigis and Labrys, both androids in civilian clothes, Aigis posture immaculate, Labrys expression proud but gentle. There was Ken, too, standing slightly apart but smiling with genuine warmth, and Sae, whose focus and authority radiated even in the candid moment. A few new recruits stood at the back, shy and nervous, but eager.

She scrolled further, her thumb trembling just a little, and found a short video file. Kotone’s heart squeezed. She remembered this, Sae had insisted on recording something for her, just before she’d left for this mission.

Kotone tapped play. The screen flickered, and Sae’s face appeared, slightly awkward as she adjusted the camera. “Is this on?” Sae asked, glancing off to the side with a wry smile.

Then Sae looked straight at the lens, her dark eyes earnest. “Kotone, I know you’re worried. I know this new life-the Operatives, the missions, the shadows-it’ll change you. There’s no doubt about that.” Her tone softened, the strength beneath her words palpable. “But don’t let fear decide what you’re capable of. You’re not alone in this, no matter how it feels. We all see your worth, even if you struggle to see it yourself. Keep your head up. Even in the hardest moments, remember why you’re here-and don’t let go of yourself in the process.”

Sae paused, glancing at someone off camera-likely Yuuto, whose voice chimed in with a lighthearted, “Give it hell, Kotone!”

That made Sae laugh-a rare, genuine sound that broke through her usual sternness. “He means that in the best way,” Sae said, smiling softly. “We’re all rooting for you.”

The video ended. Kotone blinked rapidly, emotion prickling at her eyes. She set the phone in her lap, letting the words wash over her, strengthening the fragile hope inside her chest. Maybe she could do this. Maybe, even in the uncertainty, there was space for courage and change.

She closed her eyes, letting the train’s rhythmic motion lull her. The rocking of the carriage, the faint echo of Sae’s encouragement, the distant thunder of wheels on tracks-it was all a cocoon, wrapping her in a rare, quiet moment of safety. The exhaustion she’d fought for weeks crept in, her body finally giving in. She folded her arms on her bag, tilted her head against the seat, and surrendered to sleep.

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Hours slipped by, uncounted. Shadows played across Kotone’s face as the train carried her through the countryside, her breath fogging the cold glass, the world outside reduced to color and blur. Dreams tugged at the edge of her consciousness-half-memories, voices echoing in places she couldn’t quite reach. She drifted between past and present, the hush of Iwatodai dorms in the rain, the taste of instant ramen with Yuuto and Sae under a flickering streetlight, Asami’s tiny hand curling around her finger. Comfort and ache braided together, soft and sharp as longing.

When she finally stirred, the carriage was washed by the light. Her neck ached, the seat pressed uncomfortably against her back. For a moment, Kotone didn’t move, letting the unfamiliar silence root her in place. Then the brakes screeched, jolting her awake. The train shuddered, slowing until it came to a halt. Kotone blinked away the remnants of sleep, rubbing her eyes. Her head felt heavy and raw, as if she’d cried in her dreams.

A calm, almost bored voice crackled over the speakers, announcing, "Welcome to Yasoinaba Station. Welcome to Yasoinaba Station.”

Kotone’s heart jumped. This was it. She grabbed her things-her suitcase, the padded spear case, the folder-and forced herself to her feet, joints stiff with tension. As she stepped onto the platform, the world felt too quiet, the station almost deserted. A few vending machines blinked in the corner, dispensing cans to no one. One rusty bicycle leaned against the fence. The air was crisp, laced with the faintest promise of rain.

She took a shaky breath and looked around. No sign of a taxi, no welcoming committee, just a handful of strangers walking with the slow, unhurried rhythm of rural towns. For a wild second, she wondered if she’d been sent here to disappear, to fade into the landscape and be forgotten after all.

But then, just beyond the ticket gate, something caught her eye-a man easily over six feet tall, black hair, holding up a sign in thick black marker. Except it was upside down. Kotone squinted, then realized the name written there-her name, or something close to it, scrawled in bold strokes, Kotone. Next to him stood a woman, sharp and composed, short blue hair tucked behind one ear, trench coat pristine despite the rural dust.

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, then looked up. “Kanji, you’re holding it upside down.”

Kanji blinked, frowning down at the sign, the thick black letters unmistakably reversed. “Wait, really? Aw, come on, I thought I had it right this time…” He flipped the sign, glancing over at the woman. “Sorry, Naoto.”

Naoto shook her head with a patient sigh, her lips quirking upward in a way that softened the edge of her otherwise precise demeanor. “Thank you, Kanji.”

Kotone approached, nerves fluttering in her chest, suitcase wheels bumping softly behind her. She stopped just short of them, clutching the padded spear case like a lifeline. “Um… hello.”

Naoto’s gaze swept to her with the cool clarity of someone used to reading people in a single heartbeat. “Are you Kotone?” she asked, tone brisk but not unkind.

Kotone nodded, her throat tight. “Yes, I’m… that’s me.”

Naoto extended a gloved hand, blue hair catching the morning light. “Hello, I'm Naoto Shirogane. Welcome to Inaba. This is Kanji Tatsumi,” she added, gesturing at the tall, slightly rumpled man who still clung awkwardly to the sign.

Kanji grinned, shoving the sign under one arm and reaching out his hand. “How was the train ride?” His voice was warm and a little rough around the edges, familiar in a way that eased the tension in Kotone’s shoulders.

Kotone managed a small, grateful smile. “It was nice, actually. Peaceful.” She glanced between the two, uncertainty flickering across her face. “You’re… part of the Investigation Team, right?”

Naoto inclined her head, her expression softening further. “Yes. Yuuto contacted me about your arrival. We’re glad to have your support. I’ve prepared a spare room at my house for you, if that’s acceptable?”

“Oh-yes, that’s… thank you,” Kotone breathed, relief flooding through her. The constant edge of fear-of being alone, of being forgotten-eased a fraction.

Naoto’s eyes softened at Kotone’s gratitude, then she turned to Kanji with a small nod. “Kanji, would you mind taking Kotone’s bags? I’ll drive.”

Kanji sized up the luggage-one battered suitcase and a long, padded case. He’d carried heavier loads for Nanako’s shopping runs or the time Yosuke insisted on buying an entire sound system online. Still, Kotone’s bags looked almost suspiciously light. He grinned, rolling his shoulders as he lifted both bags in a single, easy motion.

“Not bad!” he said, flashing Kotone a reassuring smile. “Guess you travel light for a big hero, huh?” The little attempt at a joke came out gentle, easygoing. He was glad; after all, carrying her bags felt like the smallest thing he could do for someone who’d come all this way alone.

Naoto led the way, her steps brisk but measured. “This way, please. The car’s not far.” She glanced back, waiting until Kotone fell into step beside her, and Kanji trailed behind with the bags balanced easily over his broad shoulders.

The parking lot was quiet-only a handful of cars, and Naoto’s stood out, neat, understated, reliable, the sort you’d expect from someone whose whole life was careful observation. The drive through Inaba was brief but revealing. Kotone’s face pressed to the window, taking in the patchwork of old homes, narrow streets, and humble shops-the gentle, timeless sprawl of a town that felt more memory than present. The central shopping district, sleepy but inviting, passed in a blur of hand-painted signs and shuttered stores.

Even in the silence, there was comfort. Kanji hummed along to an old song playing on the radio, Naoto kept her eyes on the road, but glanced over now and then to make sure Kotone was all right. The weight in Kotone’s chest had lessened, just a little.

At last, they reached Naoto’s house-a crisp, clean place on a quiet street, surrounded by potted flowers and the scent of rain lingering from the morning. Kanji carried the bags to the door, setting them down with a dramatic little flourish. “There you go! Safe and sound. I promised the guys I’d meet up later, so I’m gonna head out.” He grinned again, giving a little wave as he turned. “See you around!”

Kotone managed a real smile as he left, and for a moment, it felt like something had shifted-a little lighter, a little less lonely.

Naoto’s house was tidy but lived-in, the kind of place where everything had a purpose. She gave Kotone a brief but thorough tour, the spare room with its neatly-made bed and shelves lined with books, the small, sunlit kitchen; a cozy living room with old detective novels stacked beside a battered armchair.

Kotone found herself drawn to the books, running her fingers over the spines. She hesitated, then looked up. “Naoto… is it really true? That you’re the Detective Prince?”

Naoto’s lips curved in a subtle, knowing smile. “I’ve been called that, yes. Sometimes I think the title clings to me more than I cling to it. But it’s true-I still help investigate what’s been happening, both in the real world and… elsewhere.” Her gaze sharpened, as if weighing Kotone’s response. “Yuuto mentioned you’d be helping us with the TV world. I’m grateful for the backup. Things have changed here.”

Kotone tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the next question almost shy. “Is it true, then? That there’s another person in your group who can change personas? Like me?”

Naoto’s eyes flickered with something like nostalgia, her voice gentling. “Yes. His name is Yu Narukami. He’s… very special, in that way. You’ll meet everyone tomorrow-I think you’ll find we’re a rather unusual group.” She smiled, earnest and a little mischievous. “But for now, you should get some rest. You’ve come a long way.”

Kotone nodded, exhaustion and gratitude warring inside her. She watched Naoto disappear down the hall, her footsteps fading into the hush of the house. Left alone, Kotone moved quietly into the spare room. She set her bags on the bed, unzipped the suitcase, and carefully removed the padded case containing her spear, tucking it into the closet as if it were something sacred. The folder from Yuuto she laid on the desk, the words “Trust yourself” catching the afternoon light.

She sat on the edge of the bed, letting the stillness settle around her. The unfamiliar room felt safe, if not quite her own. For the first time since she’d boarded the train, she let herself exhale.

Notes:

Hope this is a interesting second chapter, for I am gonna make sure Kotone is special in this story.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 13 of Persona 5.3