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The unfamiliar hum of machinery is the first clue Naoto gets that something is wrong.
A dull haze seems to hover around her head, amplified by the low rumble; from somewhere nearby comes the stifled click of jammed machinery. As far as she can tell, whirring fans make up the majority of the noise.
Despite this, she tries to reason some of that worry away. I left my computer on overnight to access a few documents, but… it's hard to convince herself that her computer alone can make such a noise, or cause such a strange and oppressive headache.
No, this is… different.
The second clue is far more distinct; for the past two weeks, Sukuna-Hikona has been present and alive inside her. Even through infrequent moments where her Persona feels weaker, or the connection feels strained, its existence has been an undeniable fact.
Right now, the space where Sukuna should be feels like a gaping wound.
Something is very wrong.
The hum is becoming oppressive, and hard to ignore; it hangs around like a cloud of noise, reminiscent of an environment she’s been in once before. And if that’s the case… Naoto expects to need to flinch back at bright lights - when none greet her, the empty feeling in her chest seems to intensify.
Amongst the darkness of the room she’s in, all she can make out are vague shapes lit by flickering dials.
Alone… A slight turn of her head, and the existence of a metal band around her neck suddenly becomes very obvious. ...ah? She tries to raise a hand to touch at the band - her wrists are bound to the chair, just the same. I think I’m starting to get the picture, now. It's difficult to glance down, but Naoto tries anyway; the pressure against her neck becomes almost enough to choke.
Just as I thought. Something's got me tied down.
Straining through the noise of her surroundings, Naoto barely manages to focus on something - muffled footsteps. She’s not quite sure where from, but she’s certain that they’re getting closer. They move without rhythm; some steps are shuffled, others skipped, and the closer they get, the more obvious they make themselves.
The sound of a keycard being swiped is far closer than she anticipates.
Red light spills across the metal floor, and the silhouette of a body finally trudges its way in, tunelessly humming in tones Naoto’s more familiar with than she’d like. Little more is illuminated before the door falls closed, and the figure disappears into the darkness around her.
That's the same thing that Yosuke-senpai's been humming recently. It’s been stuck in her head for the last week. …why is it humming that?
She tries to keep her eyes on it as the shadowy figure weaves in and out between undefined shapes— those machines I can hear running. An occasional ruffle of paper punctuates the machine noise— blueprints, I’d bet— and at last, the figure turns to look across at her.
They immediately lock eyes.
There’s confusion in the first blink, disbelief in the second—before it breaks into a bright grin.
“Awake!” It announces with immense glee. “Perfectamundo!”
…something about its voice unnerves her.
“I always like it more when my audience is awake for my experiments,” the look it gives her is smug, and far too confident for her liking, “and it’s a lot more fun if the subjects are, too…!”
Ah. Naoto frowns, …an experiment where I'm the subject. She blinks at the figure, I've heard this one before, though perhaps a little more recently than she would like. Biting down that worry, she chooses to voice the question on her mind, instead of a myriad of other things she should;
"What does a man of science gain from a conscious subject?"
Whatever the answer, I'll learn something about this kidnapper.
"Science..." they trail off, still pacing in and out of view. "Unfortunately, science has left the building—and I've been put in charge." Something in the twist of his voice, the growing excitement leaking out—it's almost too recognizable.
…that can't be right.
As they wander towards something in the dark, a tongue of bloodstained gold flashes into view.
Somewhere, in the deepest pit of their stomach, Naoto feels a horrible, horrible wrench.
"After all, that's what we want," it teases—and it lurches abruptly towards something out of view. With a heavy clunk, a blinding light flickers on above her, and Naoto tries to flinch away. “Isn't it, detective?"
While she's still trying to blink her way through the clinical white, the figure trots forwards, and pulls the light down. "See, if we were in charge," the closer it gets, the more it feels as if the heat emanating from it is singeing her skin, "then we wouldn't be undermined or misunderstood, now would we?"
Each time the heat becomes more bearable, it's immediately replaced by curious fingers, prodding, poking, assessing. "...do you know the worst part of it all?"
Naoto still can't open her eyes, but she's becoming more and more sure of what this is.
"...what?" Her voice comes out subdued, difficult to discern amongst the machines, and the intense presence of her assailant finally shifts back.
"The worst part of it all is that you thought you were making the right choice."
Barely managing to keep one eye open in the intense brightness, Naoto confirms her fears; glittering gold hides behind a shadowy rim, and a satisfied smirk is offered her way.
Looking down upon her is her own spitting image - her Shadow.
It brings a sleeve up to its mouth, and giggles into it. "There's some very important operations to do today," its laugh dies down, arm falling back to its side. Silence begins to creep back between them as if it expects her to speak; when she doesn't, it stares at Naoto, before its voice comes out more forceful than before. "So I recommend that you do as I say."
I'll admit… it doesn't sound interested in talking this out. Naoto says nothing; best if I don't agitate it further until I see a way out. The only part of that plan she dislikes, however, is that the Shadow most likely—
“—good, just like that! Stay quiet, and obey my orders.”
…sees me as compliant. She blinks at it. Of course it does.
A short, derisive huff escapes her. This is a trick I won't fall for again. Meeting those eyes with a firm stare, Naoto remains silent. Pursing her lips, she raises both eyebrows at the Shadow.
"Well… complying must be so easy." It steps back, and stares curiously at her, canting its head to the side. “...taking orders, being told who you are, how to feel…" looking her up and down, the Shadow's lip curls in disdain. "You're so desperate for people to see you as more than 'just a child' that you choose to ignore something you previously held so staunchly to…"
A slow, taunting laugh echoes hollow through the room. "It's so… insincere, isn't it?" Their watchful eye stays trained wholly on her, "purporting yourself to be living true to yourself, but you're just…"
The Shadow pauses. Naoto struggles to swallow down something climbing up their throat.
"...too afraid to admit it, aren't you?" It turns away, barely throwing her a glance as it wanders into her blindspot. "Too afraid to look back, to look into the eyes of the beast that haunts you."
A note resounds through a metal framework, followed swiftly by rattling wheels. “What a sad life that must be.”
Almost without thinking, Naoto opens her mouth to disagree. The words are halfway across her tongue before she snaps her mouth shut—and the Shadow turns abruptly to look at her.
There's a soft chuckle at first, which grows rapidly into a laugh. "It's no use arguing with the truth, is it?" Finally, it pulls back into full view - a metal trolley lined with tools rolls along behind it. "Or at least, that's what we always say."
All she can do is grit her teeth at the Shadow as it situates itself beside her and stands proudly.
"That aside, how are you?"
It smiles coyly, and bows deeply.
"My name is Shirogane Naoto, I'll be your surgeon today." Feigning a glance at a clipboard it doesn’t have, the Shadow pretends to observe a list, "and the procedure you'd like is...?"
Naoto stares ceaselessly, silently at it.
Slowly, the Shadow tilts its head, "...can't decide?" With a snort, it gives the tools a once-over, before looking back at her. "I don't blame you—there's a lot to choose from!"
Silence.
"You're going to have to pick something. " It growls.
The longer Naoto goes without saying anything, the more irritated the Shadow seems to become. Twitches of disgust etch its face, fists beginning to clench in pure, sudden rage—and it forces up a desperate grin, wiping one arm across its eyes.
"Fine!" It steps back, shoving some medical thread and a needle into its coat pocket. Ignoring the tiny beads of red on its fingers, Shadow Naoto begins measuring Naoto's face from afar. "...if you're not going to speak at all, I'll happily make the decision for you."
Even at this distance, Naoto can see the tears glistening in the Shadow's eyes.
It claps awkwardly to catch her attention, and that just drives home the irritating smile on its face. "So, congratulations! It's the Detective Prince's lucky day!"
"Da-da-dah-daaaah!" It steps forwards again, and flourishes, "you’re going to be my subject for something divine…!”
They can't help their frown—under their breath, Naoto lets out a mumble; "what would… that…?"
"Aw, don't play coy!" They purr, "I know this is what you've always wanted to change about yourself...!"
Something divine that I’ve always wanted…? That leaves few options. She doesn’t often want, especially not something that could be considered divine. Naoto bows her head as solemnly as she can; it must mean ‘divine’ in some other sense.
She's trying to ignore the widening pit in her stomach - Sukuna's absence isn't the cause of this one, but it might just be a sign. It shouldn't, but it could just be…
Her Shadow seems occupied with the tools nearby.
Calmly, she begins to wriggle her arms, waiting for a loosening in the binding. … I think I'd rather not find out if I'm right. She has to keep her eyes on the Shadow - knowing its next move is vital.
As she watches, she begins to move her right arm. First pulling, then twisting—and the mechanism beneath her wrist rattles lightly.
The Shadow doesn’t seem to notice.
It isn't until she's certain the Shadow is fully occupied with its tools that Naoto decides it's time to strike. While it reaches for a scalpel, she begins to wrestle free of her bindings; each of her pulls are as forceful as she can manage, yet—
Shadow Naoto shakes its head confusedly, staring down at her hand, and then up at her face.
"If you wanted a different operation, you should have said something!"
An almost embarrassed laugh comes from the Shadow at her attempt, before it points the scalpel at her. “You made your decision… changing your mind isn't an option anymore!"
A warning isn’t going to stop her. Staring her Shadow down, Naoto yanks her arms back, waiting for the mechanism below to finally give way; she's felt that loosening, that weakness - there must be a way to exploit it.
…and it’s only a matter of time before they do. It can’t be… too hard—!
"You're not really thinking about trying to escape, are you?" Shadow Naoto paces forwards, head tilted to the side. "You're in my operating theatre, strapped down for your own safety... and you want to break out?"
That persistent, silent stare is the only answer Naoto plans to give the Shadow, and she pulls her arm again, and again.
Seemingly aware of Naoto’s intent, it cocks its head further—almost impossibly so—and hums disapprovingly. “Normally, I would appreciate a subject as quiet as you are,” it glances at the scalpel in its hand, before turning it to face Naoto again. “But if you keep this insolence up, it’s going to give me a headache…”
Predictably, Naoto says nothing in return.
The Shadow huffs. “No matter… I’ve worked with less cooperative subjects before.” One hand comes firmly down to press her arm to the chair, and stops her writhing. “I recommend that this… fighting back ceases, before you harm yourself further.”
When it lifts its hand away, Naoto doesn’t fight back. …now isn’t the time. She tries not to flinch away as its hand takes hold of her chin, and keeps her still. I need to wait for another chance, even if that means it’s going to—
“First, we should approach the most obvious problem; that soft jawline of yours.” Peering closer, its other hand eases forward to press the scalpel to Naoto’s jaw, and carefully runs the blade across her skin.
A moment later, the cut begins to burn.
It might only be shallow, but she can’t help the slight gasp of pain that escapes. She flinches as the knife continues through, and it slips slightly from the line the Shadow seems to be following; it seems like a miracle that it doesn’t cut through her throat.
The pain is strong enough to override the part of her that wants to freeze - she wants to fight back, even if it’s the wrong choice to make in the moment.
"Don't squirm." The Shadow's voice is little more than a whisper as he leans close, "I almost cut through something important…" two fingers push below the metal ring around her neck, trailing against her as it tilts the scalpel away. After a moment of searching, they rest above her artery, and the Shadow gives her an odd smile. "...we wouldn't want that, now would we?"
Then, the Shadow turns the blade back and presses it deeper - she winces again, and the blood that had beaded up against the wound begins to trail down her neck.
This… this isn’t good.
“Keep playing along.” At last, its hand leaves her arm behind to instead hold her chin steady - out of the corners of her eyes, she watches as her Shadow sinks its focus into the incision. “...it’ll be easier if you do.” A thumb comes swiping across her cheek.
“I-I—”
She’s silenced as the Shadow’s thumb presses against her lips, and the tang of iron becomes strong in her nostrils.
"Does it hurt…?" Shadow Naoto tilts his head just so; Naoto barely manages to shake her head. "Ah… pretending hurts more, doesn't it?"
I'm not pretending. She doesn’t speak, and the Shadow sighs.
It reaches across to its tools, plucking a roll of fabric from amongst them. Shadow Naoto places the fabric against the cut, carefully cleaning up the blood, before beginning to pad the wound. “It’s so hard to pretend…” exhaustion ebbs through its voice, yet careful fingers affix medical tape to her jaw. As it finishes the patch, the pain becomes a sustained, and ignorable thrum.
The tenderness of his touch is unfamiliar.
“Even if everyone around you believes it,” one of its hands reaches up to assess her jawline - it’s shaking. “You just can’t ignore the way it eats at you.”
…she can’t deny the Shadow’s logic, but a part inside of her screams. I—I should be fighting back. Naoto swallows stiffly, I have to, don’t I?
And as if it can sense her conundrum, “you know there’s no reason to fight back,” it speaks again. “I’m part of you. Is it worth fighting back against that?” Taking hold of her chin between its finger and thumb, Shadow Naoto slowly turns her head from side to side, and tilts its head. “...the last time you did that—”
Even though she wants to finish its sentence, she keeps her mouth firmly shut—but the way her face twitches into a grimace seems to betray her feelings to the Shadow.
It tuts, and rolls its eyes.
“Is it obligation - is that what keeps you quiet?” His prying voice is almost worse than the scalpel; the hole in their stomach has spread all the way up through their chest—
“It’s the right thing to do… what a joke.” Shadow Naoto huffs to itself, turning away for a moment to move the scalpel across its tray of tools. “You keep repeating what people say to silence the part of you that’s screaming in protest.”
It steps back, but Naoto’s focus doesn’t follow.
"I know you, Naoto Shirogane."
Even as the Shadow speaks again, that attention stays unwavering on the blade whetted with their blood. Naoto stiffens up; the bindings on their wrist rattle as they try to pull their hands closer in the hopes of protecting themself from what they assume it’s planning.
"There's nowhere to run to. Nowhere to hide. I know what it is that you want most - what you're keeping deep inside."
Shadow Naoto steps back again, measuring with its fingers at a distance once again. After a few moments, it raises one hand to its chin and rubs thoughtfully; fingers audibly scrape against a rough stubble.
The same stubble he’d shaved off three days ago.
It steps back into arm’s reach. “Is there any point in deluding yourself further?” Shadow Naoto places a hand on the back of their head, slowly bringing its hand through their hair. “It’ll only lead to more pain, in the end.” As it speaks, it fastens the ring around their neck—in their panic, Naoto stops breathing for a moment, and it tightens it to a choke. “...now, sit still, and let me make the next incision.”
I… don’t think I should let it do that. At last, words begin to force themselves out of their mouth. “Sh-shouldn’t it be—” Naoto chokes out, “anaesthetic…?”
Please, please, a voice inside begs; it flutters against his hollow chest like a moth trapped in a jar. I can’t take this pain any longer…
“I really appreciate the trust you have in me…” it coos; something about the childish smile on his face makes Naoto want to squirm. “But I don’t have time to prepare any of that for you. We’re in a rush today, detective.” The Shadow tilts its head down, and places a finger against Naoto’s shirt. “If I don’t get this over with, the word’s only going to get further out of our control…”
Without thinking, words slip out; "how is it out of control?"
The Shadow pauses halfway through unbuttoning Naoto’s jacket.
“What people know is—”
"A lie! " Shadow Naoto snaps, his head whipping up to meet their eyes. "You were so desperate to free yourself from your loneliness that you gave up your true self!" His outburst echoes through the room, rattling against the machines surrounding them; the sound takes too long to die down, leaving them both in an oppressive, uncomfortable silence.
His Shadow breathes slowly, heavily. "...I know exactly how you feel.”
One hand pushes their jacket aside, and Naoto almost flinches.
“But it’s hard to ignore your own nagging voice, isn’t it? Acting as if what your so-called ‘ friends ’ wanted is what you wanted, too.” The Shadow spits, “now that the secret is out, you’re wishing you were you more than ever.”
It shifts their shirt next, and Naoto knows exactly what it’s aiming for.
"...you're still wearing the uniform, still wrapping yourself in bandages." At last, the scalpel touches against his chest. "You still bask in the name prince ."
Naoto stares forwards.
Shadow Naoto stares right back; his index finger is primed on the scalpel, ready to lead it onwards. “It’s time to face the facts, detective.”
The hum of machinery is deafeningly loud in the silence.
Slowly, the Shadow’s expression morphs into pity, and his voice drops to a low whisper.
“I still want to be a boy.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Shadow Naoto begins to chuckle to himself. “No… not a boy - I want to be a man. And this time…” The amusement in his eyes disappears in an instant, replaced instead with a tense focus on the blade in his hand; Naoto scrunches his eyes shut.
“...nobody’s going to change my mind.”
…
…?
A sustained thrumming noise, reminiscent of TV static, keeps the silence at bay; for far too long, Naoto keeps his eyes shut, and strains his ears. There’s nothing to hear amongst that static no matter how hard he tries to listen, and finally he opens his eyes once more.
Despite the way his body screams in protest as he tries to move, Naoto raises a hand to his face, and rubs one of his eyes. This time, when he blinks, the world makes a lot more sense; dragging himself up to a sit, he takes in the silhouettes of the room he’s in. While he can’t make out anything particularly recognisable, he knows one thing for certain - his Shadow is gone.
Naoto presses a hand to his chin, placing his fingers right across where his Shadow had made his incision; when he touches his fingers to his tongue, he can’t taste any blood. That’s a good sign, and so his hand drops to his collar, and slowly pats down towards his chest.
There are no rogue incision marks there, either.
At that realization, a strange twist wrenches his gut; a feeling he’s been ignoring for a far too long finally has an explanation.
His hand falls back to his side, and Naoto stares into the darkness of his own room.
…pursuit of a true self is more complex than it seems.