Chapter Text
Suo's POV
Months had passed since the two murders with zero progress from the police. Cause of death unknown, no leads, no suspects — nothing. Suo had suggested putting Nikaido, who'd been having that affair with Mayumi, on the list. The guy lost his job over the scandal; resentment was motive enough.
The cases were stone-cold dead. In the meantime, they were swamped with a bunch of bullshit missing people reports that popped up every now and then. Morale at the precinct was in the gutter because the ‘victims’ would waltz back a few days later, claiming to the cops that nobody had kidnapped them. A complete waste of manpower. Everyone was running on fumes, Suo included. Three months of high-stakes work, plus babysitting the new transfer — the so-called ‘Detective Prince,’ Shirogane Naoto. He barely made it home before midnight most days.
No good news today, either. Another body. Jun's colleague this time, a high school teacher named Moroka Kinshiro.
The killer had the gall to leave a taunting message at the scene, mocking the cops as a bunch of useless slackers.
The drive from the station to the crime scene was made in suffocating silence. Suo's face was a thundercloud. Even Adachi in the passenger seat kept his mouth shut for once, unusually solemn.
The victim was strung up on a utility pole again, but everything else was off. Way off. For starters, the scene was practically littered with clues compared to the first two.
Bastard had to go after a teacher from the local high, Suo cursed inwardly. He had a strong hunch this was a copycat. The work was sloppy, amateurish — nothing like the first two.
After the preliminary sweep, Suo was ready to head to the victim's school. "Suo-san, tread carefully when we get there," Adachi murmured. Suo took a slow, controlled breath, his thumb rubbing absently over his lighter. "I know."
The school was less than thrilled about another police visit. Bad for their pristine reputation. And with finals week breathing down everyone's necks, cops poking around would just spread panic among the students and faculty.
Mitsuo Kubo's POV
Finals week. Mitsuo had ditched his own exams and crept over to the school of that girl, Amagi Yukiko, the one who'd shot him down. Hiding in the shadows, he watched the high school girls mill about after their tests, that old rejection still festering inside him. A twinge of fear remembering the scary guy she was with made him shrink back into his corner, his eyes continuing their hungry crawl.
Then he saw him. That teacher. The one who’d warned him. Just the sight made something ugly and hot coil in Mitsuo's chest.
One interaction, months ago, but Mitsuo remembered that sanctimonious face as clearly as he remembered Moroka's — the one he’d already taken care of.
The day after Mitsuo had poured his heart out to a girl he liked, he was waiting for her after school when this teacher dragged him out. His crush and her friends were walking right behind the guy. After a humiliating lecture, the teacher had security throw him out. Right in front of them. In front of her.
The bastard who’d made him lose face.
Mitsuo's face twisted, features contorting into a snarl. Fire seemed to blaze behind his eyes as he fixed a death glare on the teacher. The impulse surged, wild and intoxicating: Do it. Kill him. You’ve done it once. What’s once more? It’d make him even more famous.
The thought took root, spreading like a stain. Watching his target, Mitsuo fantasized about the man begging for mercy at his feet. An uncontrollable, nasty grin stretched across his face.
Then, he saw a police officer jogging toward the teacher — the teacher whose name he’d just mentally added to his list. Cold fear doused the heat in his veins. Please don't let him remember me. Empty-handed, Mitsuo scrambled away in a blind panic. It was only late at night, long after students, teachers, and cops had vanished, that he dared slink back for the video camera he’d abandoned.
Rain tapped against his window that night. Fired up, Mitsuo logged onto a forum and proudly declared himself the serial killer. He was met with ridicule, called an attention-seeking clown. Bastards! He slammed a fist on his desk in frustration. Muttering curses, he browsed the footage he’d shot that day.
His frustration vanished, replaced by a jolt of vicious glee. There, in the video, was something perfect. Something that could ruin that damn teacher in this backwater town, make him taste disgrace long before his death.
Knock knock.
The sound from the door jerked him from his thoughts. Annoyed, Mitsuo yelled, "Who is it?!" He set the device down and went to answer.
A figure in a yellow raincoat stood at the doorway, face obscured. Then, darkness swallowed him.
"Oh, Suo-san. I did warn you to be careful." He made sure to wipe the computer clean before pocketing the tape and slipping away.
Investigation Team's POV
The Saturday after exams found most of the Investigation Team slumped in a booth at June's. Aside from Narukami and Yukiko, the air was thick with despair.
"Why do we even have to learn English?" Rise moaned, resting her forehead on the table. "Can't we just hire translators?"
"That's... not really the point, is it?" Kanji muttered, equally defeated. His grades were in the same sinking boat.
Yosuke was a boneless puddle on the table, only stirring when Yukiko asked about Teddie.
"Isn't he crashing at your place, Yosuke?" Chie asked, her energy also depleted.
"Yeah... I let him stay. In return, he works here as the mascot." They all glanced over at Teddie, who was cheerfully handing out balloons to a group of kids nearby. Spotting them, Teddie trotted over, hopeful. "Is it time for some beary special flirting?"
"Don't start with that," Yukiko said, her expression darkening.
The conversation drifted, eventually landing on mixers and, inevitably, their deceased homeroom teacher, Moroka. Kurosu had taken over Class 2-2. Even Yosuke, who'd hated the guy, felt a pang talking about his death. He hadn't deserved to go out like that.
"Let's find the culprit," Narukami stated, his voice firm.
Yosuke nodded immediately, "I'm in—" but was cut off by a familiar, cool voice.
"Unnecessary. The police appear to have already identified a suspect."
They turned to see Shirogane Naoto standing behind them, watching the group with an unreadable expression.
Shirogane's suspicion of the Investigation Team was still palpable. Accusations flew — treating the case like a game, trivializing the gravity of it all. Yosuke vehemently denied it, while Shirogane's retort held a bitter edge.
"It is somewhat lonely... only being of interest to others when I am needed. Though, I am accustomed to it." Shirogane delivered the line with a flat neutrality. "I shall take my leave." With that, they turned and walked away.
"You..." Kanji watched the solitary figure retreat, a sudden, sharp ache of sympathy in his chest.
After Shirogane left, the group resumed their discussion.
"If what they said is true... we might not get to gather like this anymore," Yukiko said softly.
Narukami's expression flickered for a split second, a crack in his calm facade he quickly smoothed over before anyone noticed.
Rain fell on Tuesday as they walked to school. Narukami suggested checking the TV World again. Unfortunately, another face had appeared on the Midnight Channel.
Shirogane Naoto's POV
"Naoto. It's late. Time to go home."
Naoto didn't look up from the case files, their focus unwavering even as a hand reached down and plucked the papers from their grasp. Their eyes widened, shooting upward. "Suo-san, please. A little longer." They kept their tone respectful, trying to reclaim the documents.
It was Detective Suo. Unlike most at the station, he actually listened to Naoto's deductions. He respected her input, and his own investigative skills were sharp. Naoto, in turn, held a genuine respect for him — a rarity. They'd worked together to close the Moroka case.
"Naoto. It's late. You need to go home."
"But the first two cases—"
Suo remained unmoved by Naoto's stubborn stare. "Once a case is closed and a suspect is in custody, that's police work. You need a break too, Naoto." He rubbed his tired eyes, filing the documents away. He waited until Naoto had truly left before heading to his motorcycle.
Even away from the station, the case nagged at Naoto. They'd identified Mitsuo Kubo, but the boy had vanished. The prevailing theory was that he'd fled. Naoto knew it wasn't over. Their place was here.
Yosuke Hanamura's POV
"Yu!"
"Yu!"
"Snap out of it,man!"
The frantic shouts from below were nearly drowned out by the sounds of battle. Yosuke was calling for him, voice tight with panic. After Mitsuo Kubo's denial, his Shadow had erupted. Yu had been hit by some kind of mental attack from the infant-like Shadow and slumped, unconscious. The others were fighting, buying Yosuke time.
Thankfully, Yu came to after just a few minutes. Jiraiya caught them, flying them back down to solid ground.
"You okay?" Yosuke asked, his hand still on Yu's arm. He had no idea what Yu had just been through in those minutes, only that he seemed… shaken. Yosuke thought of how Jun-sensei had comforted him in the past and tried to channel that same steady presence. For the first time, their unshakeable leader, the guy who sometimes felt like he was holding himself together by sheer will, had a crack in his armor. And what showed through wasn't strength, but a raw, human vulnerability.
"Thanks, Yosuke." Yu's hand gripped Yosuke's tightly, as if afraid he'd let go. It hurt a little, but Yosuke didn't pull away.
Back with the team, the relief at Yu's return was palpable. With him leading again, they made short work of Mitsuo Kubo's Shadow.
The real Mitsuo Kubo, once conscious, was just confused. The accusation that he was the killer seemed to barely register at first.
"So… you're the one behind all this?"
The words finally seemed to sink in. He didn't defend himself. Instead, a strange, light laugh escaped him, and he almost seemed eager to claim it. "Yeah. That's right. It was me. All of it!" As he spoke the words, his Shadow dissolved completely. To the very end, he refused to accept it.
Outside June, a crowd gathered to watch the murderer being led away. Even in the back of the police car, Mitsuo Kubo couldn't stop laughing. He'd gotten the attention he craved.
"With this… it's finally over," Yu said. And for the first time, the words didn't taste like fear.
Investigation Team's POV
A few days later, during another get-together, Rise finally asked the question. "So, Yu… what happened when you were out?"
Yu's expression didn't change. "Nothing happened."
"Really?" Rise blinked in surprise.
"Sensei really is special, kuma!" Teddie chimed in.
"I guess… now that the case is over, we won't need our Personas anymore," Kanji said, a hint of melancholy in his voice.
"And we won't have reasons to meet up like this," Yukiko added, her tone similarly downcast.
Yu was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he straightened up. "No. Let's keep hanging out."
Yosuke, who’d been watching him closely, broke into a grin. "Duh. Obviously." The others quickly agreed — they had the whole summer to plan. This friendship wasn't like the fleeting ones Yu had known before. Yu looked at Yosuke, and the genuine, easy smile on Yosuke's face felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Yosuke. Yu repeated the name silently in his mind. Thank you.
Suo's POV
"Never thought our fugitive would turn up at a crowded place like June, huh, Suo-san?" Adachi stood beside Suo outside the interrogation room. Inside, Dojima was grilling the captured Mitsuo Kubo, who was confessing to everything. The motive? He just wanted attention.
"What a pathetic reason, don't you think?" Adachi remarked. Suo merely raised an eyebrow, his face an impassive mask. That changed when they asked Mitsuo where he'd been hiding. The question about his disappearance made the color drain from Suo's face, leaving him corpse-pale.
Mitsuo claimed he'd come out of a TV. He babbled about a double, monsters, a maze-like place. The other officers wrote it off as the ravings of a disturbed kid. But for Suo, it was a key turning in a lock he thought was sealed forever. Memories, sharp and visceral, flooded back. The sky choked with military jets, the staccato rhythm of gunfire in the streets, the cacophony of panicked crowds, the grief for fallen comrades… and Him. That invisible, ineffable presence that had been weaving a web around him since birth. Nyarlathotep.
"You will never escape me, Tatsuya. Even if you defeat me this time, I will not vanish. I will not release you… not until you yield more exquisite terror and despair. Hahahaha—!"
Suo's jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. A chill, deeper than any winter, seeped into his bones. It took every ounce of his control to stay still.
"Suo? You, okay? You look like hell." Adachi, who had been about to crack another joke, took a step back at the icy aura suddenly radiating from his partner.
Had it found him? Had it all been for nothing? Suo could not focus on Adachi's words, his mind reeling.
Mitsuo Kubo was led out of the room. Passing Suo, he stopped. Under the officer's impatient tug, he scrutinized Suo's face and then… smiled. A knowing, ugly little smile. "Oh. It's you."
"What do you mean by that?" Suo snapped back to the present, every sense on high alert. His gut screamed that this kid knew something he should not.
"Nothing. Was that teacher fun?" Mitsuo Kubo tossed out the bizarre question and let himself be led away. Suo and Adachi intuitively knew who he meant.
White-hot rage, immediate and obliterating, pushed all thoughts of Shadows and ancient gods from Suo's mind. He moved faster than anyone could react.
"What did you say?!" His fist connected with Mitsuo Kubo's face with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed from the boy's nose, a tooth clattering to the precinct floor. A howl of agony filled the air, drawing stares from everyone outside.
The others were frozen in shock. It took several officers to finally haul Suo off the now-unconscious kid. The sheer brutality of the attack left any would-be questioners silent, quickly moving to separate the two.
The incident earned Suo a blistering reprimand from Dojima and a mandatory suspension.