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Chapter Text

It was a balmy day in April when Yusuke Kitagawa switched classes.  Life drawing was boring him, and he felt he was stuck in a creative rut; unable to produce any pieces that would satisfy Madarame-sensei.  Much better to focus on something more vibrant and colorful, especially with it being spring, an oil-painting class would be much better, he thought, and Sensei agreed.

He introduced himself to the class at the teacher’s request.  They all clapped when prompted and most of them looked at him with expressions of curiosity or perhaps warmth (he wondered how much of that was due to his looks, and how much of it was due to him being a pupil of the famous Ichiryusai Madarame.)  But there was one person at the edge of the classroom who did not clap and did not share the expression of his new classmates.

She was wearing pants. That was the first thing Yusuke noticed.  Nor did she wear either the striped tie or ribbon common to the Kosei High uniform, she wore only the pale blue dress shirt of the summer uniform.  She had rusty reddish hair that was cut short and large, glassy green eyes that reminded Yusuke of old beer bottles.  Her face was neutral, her mouth small and flat.  Her feet were perched on the rungs of the stool, and Yusuke saw that she did not have socks or the loafers of the school uniform on, but simple slip-on plastic sandals, and she sat with a terrible hunch that reminded him of a gargoyle.  It made her look even shorter than she was.

He was about to mentally dismiss her as a slacker and coaster when he noticed one last detail of the girl.  She was not holding her hands behind her; she had no hands.  Barely peeking out from the sleeves of her shirt were two stumps of her arms.  All the oddness of her outfit slid into place and re-arranged in his head and his concerns about sharing a class with someone so slovenly died half-formed in his mind.

The teacher split everyone into two groups and said they would continue working on their sketches of still-lifes.  Yusuke rolled his eyes at yet more sketching of bowls of paper-mache fruit, but complied with the promise that they would begin painting them next class.  Once or twice he glanced over at the armless girl, and saw her sketching out her piece with a hefty chunk of charcoal held in her foot.  Some (oft-ignored) part of him knew it was rude to stare, but her form and technique fascinated him.  The way she manipulated the charcoal with her toes, the arch of her legs as she steadied herself, the manner with which she smudged the shading with her opposite foot.  Then there was the complete expressionless calm she held throughout all of it, which spoke to the many years of practice she had at this.  Something about her face seemed melancholic to Yusuke, though, like she was lost.  He returned his attention to his own work, as he needed to make up for lost time if he wanted his foundation for his painting to be acceptable.

It was early May when Yusuke stayed after class to work on his painting a bit more.  Normally he would have left for the atelier, but he was between personal pieces at the moment, having just given his first painting to Sensei.  Most of the class had left, until even the teacher stepped out, leaving just him and the armless girl with a warning to lock up when they were done.  It seemed either he or the girl were trusted by this point.

At first he didn't even hear her call.  But the tone of voice she used on the line that did get his attention indicated that she had been trying to get his attention for at least a minute.

“Hey, you.”

Yusuke looked up from his painting to see the armless girl staring at him.  

“Yeah, you.  Can you give me a hand?  I’m fresh out.” she said, and wiggled the stump of her right arm.  Yusuke blushed at the forwardness of her joke.

“Of course, my apologies for not paying attention,” he said as he stood and crossed the room.

“Naw, it’s cool. It was neat watching you work.  You get super-focused,” she said. Her face was a mask of impassivity; Yusuke had trouble telling if she was joking or not.  “I wanted to add some green to this, but I didn’t get enough yellow earlier.  Can you get some?”  She jerked her head behind her at several tubes of paint on a shelf.

“Mixing new colors this late?  I would have thought you were headed home soon,” Yusuke said as he walked around her to get the paint off of the shelf.

“I probably should,” she said, inspecting her canvas.  Yusuke retrieved the yellow paint and squirted out a small dollop of paint on her pallet where she indicated.  She mixed it with an existing dark blue to produce a deep, forest-y green, and then set to work.

Yusuke lingered behind her, observing the painting.  It was a somewhat early abstract piece, a swerving swoop of red and blue that never met to mix into purple, but pulled away, the red accented with orange, and he saw now that the dark blues were accented with the new dark green.  The shapes themselves were somewhat macabre, to Yusuke’s eye.  Too abstract to be anything offensive, but suggestive of a screaming face or perhaps a bulging eyeball.  He watched her fill in a few blank areas with the new green for a minute or so, before she spoke up.

“What do you think?”

Yusuke had never really discussed the finer details of art with anyone beyond Madarame-sensei.  He had wanted to follow in his footsteps and create visions of pure beauty, unclouded by worldly, academic concerns.  It was Sensei, however, who suggested he attend Kosei to educate himself on the finer points of art history and theory.  And while all the classes had told him much about art, rarely did someone ask him anything other than facts.  He struggled for the words for a moment.

“It’s very visceral,” he responded.  “The contrasting red and blue feel like there are two parts at war, clashing and twisting off of each other.  It’s very vivid, and feels like there’s much strife and turmoil behind it. The detail you’ll add will make it or break it, however.”

The girl looked up at him with an odd expression.  Like she didn’t quite believe him.  He swore sometimes that it looked like there was a mist in those green eyes of hers.  She looked at him for a long time, and Yusuke wondered if he’d ignored another social nicety no one had ever told him about.  A bell tolled somewhere in the school and it broke the moment.  She set her brush down and slid her supplies behind her special chair that allowed her to lean back for counterbalance when she used her feet and hopped off and into her sandals, kneeling down to grab her bag with her teeth, and lifting it up and setting it on her shoulder.

“I should probably go, lest consequences happen,” she said.  “I forgot your name.”  It came out not as an apology or a question, but a statement of fact.

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” he said, bowing slightly.

“Now I’ve heard your name twice.  Neat.”  She turned to leave.

“And your name?” Yusuke asked, slightly befuddled.

“Oh, Rin.  Rin Tezuka.  Tezuka Rin,” she said, before sliding the door open with her foot and leaving.

For the very first time, Yusuke Kitagawa thought to himself: What a very strange person.

Chapter Text

Two days after Yusuke learned the armless girl’s name, professor Aisaka the painting instructor took him aside before class started.

“I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Tezuka-san,” she said.  He had, in a way, but even something as light as the term ‘acquaintance’ felt heavier than the scant moments they shared.  Nevertheless, he nodded his acknowledgement.  “I have a small favor to ask of you, Kitagawa-kun.  Could you…” she paused for the right words, “partner up with Tezuka-san?”

A look of befuddlement crossed Yusuke’s face.  What could this possibly entail, and what could he have done to deserve this duty?  “Professor?” he asked, warily.

“She needs some help.  Obviously she has difficulty with certain tasks,” Aisaka said. “She’s also…troubled.  She recently transferred to the Kosei fine arts program from another school, one that specialized in supporting students with disabilities.  She doesn’t have a lot of the support she’s used to.” So she was a transfer student.  What had caused her to change schools?  Kosei’s fine arts division was renowned across Japan, but why had she not stayed at this other special school?

“I sympathize, but why are you asking me?” Yusuke attempted to ask it plaintively, but came out rather whiny.

“Because you’re ahead of the class, Kitagawa-kun.  You’ve learned a great deal very quickly,” the professor said, placatingly.  “You can afford to take a little time to help out a fellow student with getting things off shelves, packing her bag, cleaning brushes.” Yusuke’s furrowed brow must have not changed, so the professor changed tactics. “Her style is also very interesting, you must have noticed.  I think it would do you well to keep an eye on her.  Can never have too many influences, even as a disciple of Madarame-san.”

Yusuke considered.  It was true, her work was very unique.  It was also a fair bargain: help out a fellow talented student in exchange for getting to see her process close-up.

He also needed the inspiration.  Since he had submitted his last piece to Sensei all his work had felt lacking, and he was feeling depressed from some minor artist’s block.

“I accept, professor.  I’ll keep an eye on her for you,” Yusuke eventually agreed.

Rin did not offer any commentary while Yusuke relocated his canvas and chair next to her the next day.  She was working on a different piece, even more abstract.  All red veins, or maybe roots crawling and cracking through scarlet and orange geometric shapes, like weeds breaking tiles.  Yusuke was reminded of a piece Hitoshi-senpai had made before…

Before he had killed himself.

Even now the memory of it tore at Yusuke’s stomach.  His fellow artist, at his lowest point, bags under his eyes, coming home to find his latest painting taken by Sensei to be distributed.  Hitoshi-senpai had screamed that the painting wasn’t done, that there was some crucial detail he needed to add, before collapsing into his futon and sobbing.  Nakanohara-san had tried to comfort him, but it was to no avail.

With some shame, Yusuke remembered how he had been too engrossed in a vivid sketch to take much notice of Hitoshi-senpai's condition, but the next day he had looked much better.  He had a slight smile on his lips, and wished Yusuke good luck at Kosei.  Yusuke had noted his worsening depression over the last few months under the weight of Sensei's expectations, but Yusuke had thought he had perhaps had a breakthrough, perhaps found new resolve in the previous night's events.

Yusuke had come home from school to the news that he had thrown himself in front of a train.

“Is it that bad?”

Rin’s question snapped him out of his recollection.  He looked down at her near-blank face.  She was staring at him with only slight curiosity, no real concern.  Yusuke supposed he must have been making a face at the painting while he was remembering.

“No, it’s just very evocative,” Yusuke said. “It reminds me of…someone I lost.”

Now it was Rin’s turn to make a face.  A furrowed brow, the shadow of a frown.  “I was trying to remember a dream.”  She turned back to the canvas.

“What was it about?” Yusuke asked as he settled the chair in place and withdrew his charcoal.

“I’m only good at forgetting,” was the only reply he got.  Yusuke paused for a moment to wait, but then let it go and sat down and began to try and break his creative block.  A few sketching strokes later , some random smudging to try and come up with something, but he was still stumped.

“You don’t have to sit next to me if it upsets you.  I can get my own stuff.” Rin said as the class drew to a close.

“True,” Yusuke said, helping to put away some of the paint tubes.  “But I’m helping you.  And besides, I want to see your art.”

Yusuke barely heard Rin mutter, “So do I.”

In mid-May, Yusuke had finally thought his artist block had been cleared when he caught a glimpse of the most beautiful girl on the Tokyo subway.  Her platinum-blonde hair and striking blue eyes, the way she carried herself with a natural feline grace and the passion she emanated, a passion that had been sorely missing from his life the past few months; he knew for certain that he had found his muse and the perfect inspiration.  

He followed her for a few days on her commute, before confronting her and her two friends, the delinquent and the quiet one.  He invited her to Madarame-sensei’s gallery, and that seemed to impress her, so he felt very good about his chances of turning a new corner in his life.

Yusuke Kitagawa had no idea how right he was.

Chapter Text

Yusuke sat quietly while the Phantom Thieves ordered drinks from the waitress.  They had all decided to take shelter in a small diner in Shibuya, where the three teens from Shujin had explained the basics of this ‘Metaverse’ to him after he had accidentally become entangled and awakened his Persona.

It had been a very hectic week.

He was grateful to have a moment to reflect on everything that had happened.  Inviting the beautiful girl, one Ann Takamaki, to model for him had apparently been a bit too suspicious for her dyed-hair friend Ryuji Sakamoto and the bespectacled Akira Kurusu, along with the cat he kept in his school-bag named Morgana.  Their repeated insistence that Madarame (Madarame-sensei at the time) was stealing the art of his pupils and profiting off of it had cut Yusuke to the core, and he had lashed out and threatened legal action on them and tried to leverage that against Takamaki-san in particular.

Even when he made the empty threat he had known it was wrong, but it had seemed like the lesser of two evils.  Madarame’s championing of art as a goal to be pursued above all else, as an idol to be worshiped and a moral absolute had skewed his view of acceptable behavior, so he had stooped to baseless legal threats to protect his teacher’s reputation.  He would have to find the words to apologize sometime soon, and to figure out a way to ask Ann to model again, more respectfully.

But he was still overwhelmed by what had followed, with Ann accepting his coerced offer of nude modeling as a ruse, only to uncover Madarame’s forgery operation of the painting that truly launched his art career, Sayuri .  In discovering it and rapidly dismantling the paper-thin explanations that Madarame had tried to spin up, the man had revealed his real values, showing open anger and contempt of Ann and Yusuke, attempting to have them both arrested.  Then, when his entire worldview of his teacher’s career and character had been upended, fate dealt him the strangest hand of all.  In chasing after Ann, he had fallen between the skin of realities and met the Phantom Thieves inside Madarame’s palace.

Yusuke was already finding his head spinning when Madarame threatened him, feeling the weight of a dark revelation he had, on some subconscious level, always known to be true: that for all his genteel affectations and humble manners, his teacher viewed him as nothing more than a tool.  But seeing the inside of his teacher’s heart reveal itself as a garishly glamorous museum dedicated to his glory made him want to retch.  The quiet Akira had lent him a shoulder when he couldn’t stand it, and they had made their way through the halls of the palace.

Yusuke had always known something wasn’t right with his teacher.  The way he spoke of ‘expectations’ and ‘standards’ with his pupils.  The way he was so visibly distraught in front of those with finished pieces of art, and how he steered the conversion to how well this piece would do with the public, if only there was some clout around the artist already…  The way he had championed an austere and frugal near-ascetic lifestyle to focus on pure art, yet always came back from his retreats and trips looking contented and healthier than ever.

Yusuke had assumed it was the pressure of living in the public eye, or dismissed suspicions with the idea that it was something Madarame would explain when he got older.  He had buried his doubts, because contemplating the truth of all these things meant questioning the closest thing he had to a father, and by extension, everything Madarame had taught him.  He would have to ask himself: how much of Yusuke Kitagawa was Madarame’s lessons and rearing?  If he rejected what he had learned from his teacher, was there anything worthwhile left in him?  But walking through the halls of the museum and seeing each of his many pupils rendered as rippling oil paintings, each with the same kind but dead eyes made him ill.  When he saw Hitoshi-senpai’s portrait with a graphic splash of red across it he wanted to scream, to imagine he was hallucinating, or else struck with some fever, but something in the back of his mind told him that to look away and claim it was all madness was cowardice.

Just as they were about to make their way back to the land of reason, they were confronted by the manifestation of everything Madarame had hidden about himself, his Shadow, the thieves had called it.  It was hideously ostentatious.  The makeup of an Edo-era nobleman, the topknot of a cartoon shogun, his normal robes now literally gilded and contorted into a parody of a royal’s kimono.  The director of a museum, devoted to himself.  Shadow Madarame had laughed at Yusuke’s naivete, mocked his devotion to art, then flaunted his real self’s secret wealth and elaborate double-life.  When Yusuke fell to his knees, head spinning and stomach clenching with the truth that had been in front of him his entire life, at last he could ignore it no longer.

“ Have you finally come to your senses? ”

The voice in his mind had brought excruciating pain and liberation from self-deception.  Even now, sitting in the diner and staring at the ragged skin on his fingertips, he could feel his icy pact with Goemon: for as long as he remained true to himself, his own Shadow would aid him in the form of his Persona. 

“ You must rid this world of the Director’s lies, ” Goemon whispered inside his mind. “ Both from without…and from within. ”

Yusuke looked up now that the drinks had been delivered.  The thieves had been discussing their plan to steal the central focus of the museum, and with it collapse it and alter Madarame’s perception of the world, to force him to confront his deeds.  Yusuke steeled his nerves.

“Let me join you in this,” Yusuke paused, “as a member of the Phantom Thieves.” The other three looked taken aback, and shared a concerned look.  Yusuke continued his plea, “If I had faced reality sooner, this may have been avoided.  This entire legal threat we find ourselves under and other…more tragic incidents.”

“Kitagawa-kun…” Ann murmured.  

“We know it’s a big ask of you, to bring down the man who raised you,” Akira offered cautiously.

“That man is no longer here,” Yusuke said, staring into his glass of water.  “Perhaps he never existed at all, just a facade, invented to generate goodwill and garner public sympathy.”

From inside Akira’s bag the talking cat poked his head out and spoke up. “Stealing a heart is not without risks.  We can’t rule out the possibility of a mental shutdown occurring if things go wrong.”

“As long as Madarame has the art world under his thumb, someone like me has no hope of challenging him in the real world,” Yusuke said. “His connections are extensive and his public face is far too charismatic to allow any accusations to have real weight.  This is all I can do.  Whether he was or wasn’t my adoptive guardian is irrelevant, he has to be stopped.  I can’t allow him to ruin anyone else.”  They all gave a nod of understanding, Ryuji in particular looked like he understood what Yusuke meant as he reached over and put a firm hand on Yusuke’s shoulder for support.

“It’s a deal, then,” Morgana said.

The conversation continued, but after another half hour they decided to split up and head back home.  They exchanged contact information and agreed to meet up to infiltrate Madarame’s palace in a few day’s time.  Akira advised Yusuke to take it easy and lay low in the meantime, as awakening a Persona was apparently extremely draining.  Yusuke couldn’t say he felt that way, until he arrived back at the atelier and collapsed onto his futon, asleep in moments.

And so, Yusuke joined the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Madarame busied himself with his exhibit for the next few days and ignored Yusuke, for which he was grateful.  Even with Goemon aiding his mental fortitude, he didn’t know if he could bear to look him in the eye and not suffer a fight-or-flight response.  Yusuke took Akira’s advice and stuck to his routine, and tried not to push himself.

However, falling into a magical manifestation of the collective unconscious of humanity had done wonders for Yusuke’s inspiration.   He was sketching out his next painting in class. It focused on his Phantom Thief mask, with swirls of blue and frost creeping on the edge of the mask.

“Are you…happy now?”

The question from his painting partner was the first thing she’d said all class.  He turned to see Rin staring at him with a look of concentration he didn’t think he’d seen aimed at anything other than a canvas before.

“Why do you say that?  Do I look happy?” Yusuke asked, somewhat wondering about that himself.  From the inside, his entire life being turned upside-down hung over him at all times.  He was even painting something radically new, but wondered what this internal transformation looked like from the outside.

Rin just shrugged, the gesture odd with her rarely-flexed and thin shoulders.  “I guessed.  I’m not good with emotions.  One time I asked Emi if she was sad, and she said she was just having trouble with her math homework.  So I guess I was only half-right.”

“Is she that bad at math?” Yusuke said, not knowing who she was speaking of, but enjoying a bit of light banter while he took a figurative step back and accessed his sketch.  It was a bit plain as a sketch, but he imagined the colors of the mask and the texture he could add on the frost would add much to the image.

Rin simply stared away for a moment.  “Probably,” she said, eventually.  “I mean, she was last time I saw her, and she would have no real reason to get better at it.  It’s not running.”  She stared out the window for a moment, focusing on nothing.

Yusuke turned his attention to Rin.  After a moment, she spoke again, still looking out the window.  “She was my friend at the old school.  Yamaku Academy.  She helped me with all the stuff you need arms for, like belts and shirts and underwear and cooking.  I have someone here who helps with all that stuff, but she isn’t Emi.”  With Rin’s strangely blunt manner of speaking, Yusuke wasn’t sure if this was a value judgment on this new girl, or just a statement of fact.  Rin shook her head, her rusty-colored hair fluttering all over.  It was a familiar motion to her, one she seemed to enjoy.  “I’m bad with explanations.  And reasons. And emotions.”

“It’s okay, I think I understand,” Yusuke said, trying his best to mean it.  He, too, sometimes felt like he was on a different page than most of the people around him.  But he had recently found people he could count as allies, maybe friends. So maybe…  “I wouldn’t say I’m happy right now, but I feel like my life is about to change for the better, even if it’s going to be difficult.”

Rin squinted out the window, still not meeting his eyes.  She rubbed her feet together nervously.  “I don’t like change.  I like my butterflies and my caterpillars separate.”  It took a moment for him to parse the sentence, but when he did the meaning was obvious.

“Then maybe we can face that chrysalis together.  I’d like to be your friend, if you’d allow me, Rin.”  Yusuke struggled with the wording, but felt he had conveyed what he wanted to.

Rin was quiet for another moment, before turning her attention back to the canvas.  “I can’t control who my friends are.  I tried once and it was bad.  So If you want to be my friend, I can’t stop you.”

Despite the trouble her words hinted at, Yusuke smiled.  Rin Tezuka was entertaining company, even if she talked in knots, and that was all Yusuke needed at the moment.

Chapter Text

The next day, Akira texted Yusuke, asking if he felt up to infiltrating the Palace.  He responded to the affirmative.  Akira instructed him to meet near the subway in Shibuya after school.  As he packed his things after class that day, he was stopped on his way out.

“Yusuke,” Rin said, and he realized this was the first time she had addressed him by name.  He stopped, and turned to face her, but she said no more.  They stared at each other for a moment, Yusuke with a questioning face, Rin with squinted eyes like she was concentrating on something.  The moment passed, and Rin shook her head and returned to her art.  Yusuke faltered for a moment, but then turned and thought no more of the encounter.

Yusuke met Akira as agreed, and was surprised by the large duffel bag that he had in addition to his school bag.  He took Yusuke aside down the central street and into a seedy-looking back alley.  Before Yusuke could seriously fear for his safety, Morgana poked his head out of Akira’s bag and explained.

“The nature of the Metaverse means that replica weapons are just as effective as real ones, so we can get equipment from this airsoft shop.”

“Fascinating,” Yusuke said, pondering the implications of a world where replicas could be real.  He had not had a chance to inspect the sword and rifle that had manifested alongside his Persona, as Akira had collected them for safe-keeping before they had left the Palace parking lot.  He had wondered about the weapons, and why he had manifested those styles of weapons, since his recollection of his Persona awakening and the subsequent fight was something of an adrenaline-hazed blur. He could easily see himself with something as elegant as a traditional katana, but he had to dig into his memory as to where that strangely shaped assault rifle Akira had identified as a ‘FAMAS’ had come from, vaguely recalling once seeing it in an old action movie one of his senpais had put on as background noise, and being taken by its bizarre shape.

They entered the shop labeled “Untouchable” by the green neon sign above the storefront.  Twenty nervous minutes of casually chatting with a man Yusuke was sure was ex-Yakuza, they emerged with a new sword and rifle for Yusuke, and a new whip for Ann.  The duffel bag Akira had brought was considerably lighter, apparently now empty of the various bits and bobs that they had collected in the Metaverse to sell to the man.

They met up with Ryuji and Ann at the walkway, and they all gave him a run down of the Metaverse, palaces, treasures, Mementos, Personas, changes of heart and so on, before activating the strange smartphone app that allowed them to navigate into Madarame’s palace.  Yusuke learned that the Phantom Thieves all had codenames they went by in the Metaverse, and after a few suggestions were thrown out, Akira had suggested that they keep the English theme, and call Yusuke “Fox” after his mask, reminiscent of a festival kitsune mask.  So his initiation into the Phantom Thieves was complete, and Fox joined Joker, Mona, Skull and Panther (Yusuke recognized most of them but made a mental note to look up what a ‘mona’ was in English later.)

Infiltrating the palace was a strange experience.  Yusuke had never fought before entering the Metaverse, but his allies assured him having a Persona would make it easy, but would not explain much more.  After his first few battles, he understood why they were so reticent: it was not a thing easily explained.  Goemon in the back of his mind made swinging the katana and aiming and firing the rifle feel as natural as painting, like he’d done it all his life.  When Morgana indicated that a Shadow was weak to cold-magic, he stumbled for a moment, before letting his instincts take over.  He lifted his fox mask off his face and watched as it dissolved into azure flames, Goemon forming behind him.  He used the ability his Persona had called Bufu and ice crystals had erupted from the Shadow’s form, instantly dissipating it in a wet, black splash.

It was exhilarating.

They had made it past a maze of security traps and one very large Shadow, when they had found what Morgana had referred to as a “safe room.”  The room blurred back and forth between a museum’s administrative office and one of the vacated rooms of the atelier whenever Yusuke blinked.  Akira called for a ten-minute break while they all grabbed a drink or snack.  

Morgana, Akira and Ryuji had all busied themselves with scrutinizing the map they had found, and that left Yusuke a moment to converse with Ann, who was sitting on the other end of the table, drinking a canned coffee and checking something on her phone.

“Takam-” Yusuke began, before remembering their codenames.  “Panther, I’d like to discuss something with you for a moment.”

She looked up from her phone for a moment, before stowing it. “Sure thing Fox, what’s up?”

“It’s…well…” he stumbled.  “I wanted to apologize for how I treated you in particular.  I know I already apologized to all of you, but the way I pressured you into modeling like that was… it was unacceptable.  I was acting rashly, and I had assumed you would be comfortable with things you clearly weren't just because I wanted it.”

Ann’s eyes softened behind her crimson cat mask. “Apology accepted, Fox.”  She smiled. “You didn’t treat us very well, but I understand why you acted the way you did, but you’re doing better now, yeah?  It’s like, as long as you don’t do that stuff again, then I think we’re good.”  Ann toyed with one of her bushy pigtails.

“I shall endeavor to do my best, though I admit I’m somewhat lacking in proper role models.” Yusuke admitted.

Ann took a moment to respond.  “Well, we may not be the most upstanding people around, but I think if you stick with us, we can keep you on the right path, and you can keep us on track as well,” she said. “Like a balancing act.”

Yusuke pondered this for a moment.  Perhaps there was no one path after all, no one proper way to behave.  Just a slow tightrope walk while you held opposing forces against each other to remain upright.  Despite the dangerous image it conjured in his mind, the thought was strangely comforting.

“Well said, Panther, I shall consider it,” Yusuke said. “While I understand your reticence to model nude for me, might I ask, earnestly this time, for you to consider modeling for a piece some time.  You have a great energy and beauty I’d love to capture.”  At her wincing expression he added, “Clothed, of course. Now that I know the circumstances with this Kamoshida that you had to endure, I could not ask that of you again.”

Ann sighed. “I mean… I’ll give it some thought, okay?  Ask me again when this is all over.  And it’d have to be somewhere more private than that atelier.”  Yusuke nodded and then began to think of where that might be.  More private…perhaps she meant her own room? She would certainly be more comfortable there.  From what he had pieced together from the group’s conversations, her parents were quite wealthy.

Akira cleared his throat and called out to the other two.  “Break’s over.  It’s showtime!”

In his painting class, Yusuke had begun to add color to his painting of his Phantom Thief mask.  His newer experiences in the Metaverse afforded him a new perspective on what to add to the image.  Professor Aisaka had stopped by and called it ‘spooky’ and ‘haunting’, but with an oddly positive tone.

“I see what you’re working towards, Yusuke, keep at it,” she had said before clapping a hand on his shoulder and moving on.

“It’s not particularly ‘spooky’ to me… does it really look like some kind of ghostly creature?” Yusuke asked aloud after she left, mostly to himself.

“Kinda,” Rin said, cocking her head as she looked at the painting, oblivious to the rhetorical nature of Yusuke’s musing. “The colors remind me of the ghost at Yamaku.”

What?  “There was a ghost at your old school?” Yusuke asked, his attention now reoriented at Rin.

“Not a real ghost.  She was alive.  Is alive, maybe.  Don’t know for sure,” Rin said, not meeting Yusuke’s eyes. “She was white. Not white like a foreigner, but like pure white, her skin, her hair.  It was a condition or something.”

“Was she albino?” Yusuke asked.

Rin nodded. “That’s the word.  I never learned her name, so she was just a ghost to me.”

Yusuke thought for a moment.  He had researched albinism for a project years ago.  It wasn’t a serious condition, though it did predispose you to problems with your eyes.  “Did she have vision problems?” he asked.

Rin shrugged.  “Maybe.  She didn’t wear glasses.  But she took a lot of meds from Nurse. I think I remember her saying something about her heart once.”

Yusuke contemplated what this school was like.  Each student with their own special needs, some obvious like Rin, others nearly invisible like this ghost girl.  What was such an environment like?  Was it peaceful, or perhaps stifling?  How did they act and react to each other’s disabilities?  Were they guarded and sensitive about it, or perhaps blasé about them the way Rin was?  Yusuke had precious little experience interacting with disabled people.  There had been two in his middle school: a girl in a wheelchair his same year and a boy a year ahead who was missing an eye.  The two of them had been polar opposites when it came to their disabilities, she had made light of her atrophied legs and laughed at the attention the one day she had shown up with crutches, while he had been very sensitive about his eye, preferring to avoid the topic altogether.

“I hope she’s still alive.  Heart thingies are hard,” Rin concluded, returning her attention to her latest piece, before setting her brush down.  “Yusuke, I need a new canvas.  Can you get me a new canvas?”  Yusuke knew all too well the feeling of sudden inspiration, and complied with no further questions.

The rough sketch Rin drew out over the remainder of the class time was very different from her abstract pieces Yusuke had seen so far.  It was a figure, a realistically proportioned young man.  He was seated, facing the viewer, but eyes looking away.  His short hair seemed messy or mussed, judging by the staccato strokes Rin had used to plot it.  The boy was leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, arms casually hanging between his legs.  He was wearing a simple dress shirt, tie and slacks, with the sleeves rolled up.  Something in his quickly sketched expression and energy gave Yusuke the impression of tension, and perhaps sorrow.

“Someone you knew?” Yusuke asked, but Rin did not immediately respond.  

Only while he was helping her clean up five minutes later did she say, “I thought I did, but I think I was wrong.  I can’t really know him.”  Yusuke waited for elaboration but received none, so he shrugged and continued to clean up their supplies, eventually leaving her alone in the classroom after she wordlessly refused his requests to walk together.

She stares at the boy in the painting, her face more troubled than she has ever let it look.  She assumes as much anyway, controlling her face has never been a particularly strong suit of her’s, but she has gotten better at hiding her expression now.  It’s necessary, now that she’s at this new school.  The memory of Father’s warning bubbles up in her head.

“People won’t know you at this new school.  You’ll need to be more careful about being so…so…”

The memory is unfinished, as Father was unable to finish.  She knows what he wanted to say, back then.  What he avoided saying.

She stares at the canvas, at the one person she’d thought had understood her, and against her will another memory crawls from the depths of her mind.  She remembers that day in the rain…

“I… think everyone wants to be understood. That's universal. But… that’s impossible… All people… are alone. We just use each other to alleviate that loneliness.”

“Why do you say that when you made me feel otherwise? It's unfair.”

“Unfair…” she repeats to the empty classroom before jabbing the brush at the canvas, placing a spot of dark red on the new painting.  She inspects it for a moment then gets up and heads back to the dorm, leaving her new work alone.

A large crimson mark over the boy’s heart.

Chapter Text

It was another week before the Phantom Thieves had made their way through Madarame’s palace and located the treasure room.  They made plans to send the calling card after one day of rest, so Yusuke partnered with Ryuji to create the card.  Ryuji still had a copy of the one they had sent to Kamoshida to show him, but Ann and Morgana had asked that Yusuke bring the new card up to a ‘professional’ standard of quality, so Ryuji and Yusuke spent a day in a manga cafe, brainstorming what the card should say and look like.

Despite the rest of the team disparaging Ryuji’s artistic skills, Yusuke held a slightly higher opinion of the first calling card.  While it was certainly crude, inelegant and a little tacky, Yusuke thought that the basic design had several good ideas.  The message being written in a magazine cut-out style like an archetypal ransom note was striking, and the message itself had a few turns of phrase that Yusuke thought would be good to build on, including the catchphrase written in English on the reverse side: ‘Take Your Heart’.  The solid red background would need something more, but the logo Ryuji had designed was also a good starting point.

“I thought about the domino mask that Joker has, and how both superheroes and people going to a fancy ball or somethin’ might wear that,”' Ryuji explained, breaking down his first card. “The top hat came from a similar place, plus it’s what Lupin is supposed to wear when I looked it up.”  It seemed they had both researched the iconography of phantom thievery.  “The toothy smile was all me, I just wanted something a little more… I dunno, aggressive than the eyes and hat?”

“I understand, but I think the use of a calling card itself conveys enough mischief. Perhaps with the nature of stealing hearts, some supernatural flair is in order?” Yusuke quickly sketched out a design that mirrored Ryuji’s top hat and domino mask, but with more three-dimensionality, no eyes in the mask, and no smile.  Instead, he added a white flame to the eye of the mask.

Ryuji grinned widely.  “Now that’s cool.”

The message was a bit simpler.  Ryuji had seen just as much of Madarame’s palace as Yusuke, if not more, so he was well-versed in his crimes.  Plus, his energy and exuberance let him capture all of what was wrong about a person with such clarity, Yusuke couldn’t really argue with his message, he just performed what Ryuji dubbed an ‘elegance pass’ on it and edited some of the wording.

Sir Ichiryusai Madarame, a great sinner of vanity whose talent has been exhausted. 

You are an artist who uses his authority to shamelessly steal the ideas of his pupils. We have decided to make you confess all your crimes with your own mouth. We will take your distorted desires without fail. 

From, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Yusuke had one more free day, as Ryuji and Ann found a way to discreetly print copies of the finished card and made plans to have Morgana place them.  He tried to go about his day, but the anticipation of finally bringing Madarame to some kind of justice made him jittery and nervous.  He passed most of it off as a bad night’s sleep, but when Rin stared at him it felt like she was staring straight through him.  

Her sketch of the boy had disappeared.  Yusuke contemplated asking her about it, but thought better of it.  Surely, you have enough on your plate without getting into her business, he mentally admonished himself.

Though it was an oil painting class, professor Aisaka had brought some new type of acrylic paint to experiment with for classes.  Yusuke was glad for the distraction.  He twisted the brush upon the poster-board they were given to experiment, testing the ways the paint curled and folded, the way colors mixed and didn’t mix, the way they dried so much faster than oils.

Rin’s acrylic experimentation was a bit more focused on texture.  She was building up her paint, circling about her board, working with reds and blues to produce fleshy pinks and purples in a swirling, lattice-like texture.  It reminded him of the creeping growths he had seen in Mementos; part plant matter, part vein.  Rin seemed to have a handle on how these paints worked though, and was just passing time, playing with the paint, it seemed.

“Have you worked with acrylic before?” Yusuke asked, cleaning his brush and going back in for more yellow.

“I started on watercolors and then oils.  I think I still like crayons the best though.  Acrylics are neat, you can feel them so much more,” Rin said absently, idly loading her brush with her foot.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Maybe I should try a different person.  A more texture-y person.  Someone with more texture.  Is that a word?”  She looked up at him.

“I believe the word is ‘texturous’,” Yusuke supplied. “You seem to be more comfortable with abstracts than portraits.”

“A real artist must experience a wide variety of styles and tools,” Rin said.  It caught Yusuke off guard.  She said it like it wasn’t her words.  Like it was something she’d been told to take to heart, and she did so only reluctantly.  “I can work on two portraits at once.  I just need to be alone for the other one.”

Yusuke guessed she was speaking of the sketch that had disappeared, and wondered who the boy in the picture was to Rin, but then the professor signaled it was time to start cleaning up, and the moment to ask was lost.

The heist to lift Madarame’s treasure was almost flawless.  Almost.  As his Shadow confronted them in the courtyard, he showed them his treasure and gloated that it was one step ahead.

The museum’s treasure made his blood run cold.  It was Sayuri , but without the lavender mist at the bottom, showing that the woman was looking at an infant held in her arms.  The instant he saw it, both he and Goemon had the same thought: that Madarame did not even paint his maiden work.  That it belonged to…

Mother.

He couldn’t keep from blurting it out, and Madarame admitted it.  How Sayuri was her self-portrait, meant to be given to Yusuke by his mother after she passed away, and how he had altered and defaced it to create a mystery and play the Japanese fine arts scene.  

Each of the other thieves denounced him in their own way, Ryuji’s red-hot indignation, Ann’s barely-restrained fury, Morgana’s professional distaste, and even Akira’s icy disgust for his actions, but Yusuke remained silent.  The new information about how his mother had died shortly after she had produced the painting that launched Madarame’s career swirled in his head, along with several other things.  The way Shadow Madarame spoke of crushing rivals and threats, and the callous way the real Madarame had still used Hitoshi-senpai’s final landscape after his death… it all led him to a conclusion that filled his veins with ice and his heart with fire.

“I’ve heard that you destroy your ‘art’ once they outlive their usefulness,” he said.  “Did that include my mother as well?”  All the other thieves expressed shock, and turned to the Shadow for his answer.

An odd expression, conflicted expression crossed Shadow Madarame’s face.  He looked at Yusuke for a long, long moment, before a smile spread across his painted lips.  “She just so happened to have a seizure in front of me…” he explained.  

The truth was revealed.  Not murder, the Shadow claimed, but mere negligence.  An inhumane opportunity taken out of greed.  Even his guardianship of Yusuke was a ploy to keep the secret safe.

The fire overtook the ice in Yusuke’s blood.  He felt sick.  His vision swam, tinted red with rage.  His mentor abused and groomed him, left his mother to die so he could steal and desecrate her final artwork, and his subconscious gloated about all of it.  It was too much to handle.

Let me take over, he felt Goemon whisper. You are losing control, let me end him with cold precision.  The loss of his mind is a better fate than he deserves.

Yusuke imagined that future.  The master artist Madarame falls dead, his body of stolen work venerated even more highly with his passing, his grand deception swept under the rug by his marketing staff.  No, there was no justice there, just the severing of a corrupted thread.  Yusuke forced himself under control.  He deserves far worse, but I will never be a murderer, he replied to his Persona.  A noise of respect echoed in his mind.

A chuckle escaped Yusuke as he focused.  “I thank you, Madarame,” he said, once he had mastered himself again. “Every reason for me to forgive you has disappeared without a trace at this moment!”

The Shadow shouted indignantly about how ungrateful Yusuke was being, then began to rant about being all-powerful in the world of art.  Yusuke barely listened as he noticed the Director’s form darken as it slowly grew larger, drawing in the two Shadow guards beside him.  His form stretched and distorted before exploding in a black and red spray, revealing a floating arrangement of facial features in painting frames that Morgana dubbed ‘Azazel.’  

The fight was frantic, each of them dodging bites from the mouth-portrait and magic spells shot from the eye-portraits.  Ryuji and Yusuke assaulted an eye each, and Ann and Akira handled the nose and mouth, with Morgana calling out weaknesses and team status.  Even when they managed to defeat each of the facial features, they all melted into a black sludge on the ground and Shadow Madarame emerged, summoning copies of himself to attack them with magic.  Even then, the Thief’s combined powers and teamwork let them cut down each wave of fakes that the Shadow conjured.

Eventually, the Shadow could summon no more, and fell back, scrambling towards the replica of the original Sayuri , clinging to it like his life depended on it.  As Yusuke approached, his endless babble shifted from indigent to desperate, claiming to be a victim of society, saying that avoiding destitution was worth any price, justified any crime.

“Yusuke, you understand, don’t you!?  Being a poor artist is truly miserable!” the Shadow pleaded. “I just didn’t want to return to that life!”

The fact that he had the effrontery to call himself an ‘artist’ almost made Yusuke laugh.  He grabbed the sniveling Shadow by the front of his robe.  “A fiend like you has no right to speak about the world of art!”

Yusuke reached down and retrieved the treasure, while Shadow Madarame said something about a ‘black mask.’ The other Thieves discussed it briefly, but Yusuke was too preoccupied observing the true Sayuri (mostly to try and distract himself from the urge to cut the cowardly Shadow down right then and there), and lost the conversation.

As Yusuke walked away, the Shadow pathetically grabbed at his pant leg.  “Yusuke, what should I do?” he pleaded.

“Put an end to all this and use your own artwork for once,” Yusuke replied, and walked off. 

Then the palace began to crumble and they had to escape, and Yusuke left Madarame’s Shadow wailing in the courtyard as he closed the door on their van.

“Goodbye, Sensei.”

The Thieves reconvened in the walkway in Shibuya, reviewing the facts they had learned during the heist.  Yusuke ignored most of it to contemplate the painting in his hands.  It could never be shown to the public, with the reputation of the ‘original’ Sayuri now, so Yusuke would have to settle for the quiet, personal satisfaction that his love of art was sparked by a piece his mother had created for him.  Her final gift, even if it took much longer than she had anticipated for him to know its origin.

The Thieves offered to let him join their team for a more permanent position, and Yusuke accepted.  The Metaverse was sure to offer him more fascinating sights and inspiration, and he wanted to aid in their cause.  They broke their meeting for the day and Yusuke promised to keep them apprised of any change of behavior in Madarame.

He arrived back at the atelier to find a note left on the table in his room.

Yusuke,

I’m so sorry for what I put you through.

I will tell you more soon.

With very mixed feelings, Yusuke set the note aside and fell asleep satisfied for the first time in many, many months.

Chapter Text

Madarame was absent from his exhibit for the remaining days it was open, with his marketing team citing his health.  He spent most of his time in his office in the atelier, on the phone.  Yusuke kept the team up-to-date on what he learned, which was very little, besides that Madarame sounded morose and those he was speaking with were furious.

The night before Madarame’s press release, Yusuke found another letter in his room.

Yusuke,

The time has come to be truthful. 

I have failed you as a teacher and as a guardian.  The rumors you attempted to swat down were all true, I have built my fame on plagiarism.  I stole your mother’s artwork and countless others for my own benefit, and I am making arrangements to return the pieces to their creators with reparations, but those around me have been resistant to the idea.

I plan to publicly apologize tomorrow, and then submit myself and the evidence to the police for judgment.  I’m sorry I cannot tell you these things in person, for so much of these last few days has been taken up with other matters necessary to ensure your safety.  At some point, we will need to meet and discuss the details of my misdeeds and I will tell you the truth of everything, but I must hold my press conference and force the hand of my agents first.

The important news is this: the Sayuri is yours.  It was painted by your mother for you before she died.  I took it and altered it to create something that would capture the public imagination.  No photographs exist of the original, and that is something I now regret deeply.

The atelier is yours if you want it, I understand if you wish to leave.  Call the number listed on the attached business card if you wish to stay, otherwise it will likely be repossessed once the investigation is over.

Do not feel pity for me or forgive me, Yusuke.  I lost myself in the pursuit of riches, and let myself harm countless young artists for my own sake.  I only hope that you can learn from my mistakes, and find your own path.

Ichiryusai Madarame

Yusuke read it twice over.  It felt a little hollow, the enormity of the crimes he was admitting to being told through text on a page.  Yusuke resolved to wait for this press conference, and informed the Thieves that there would be real news the next day.

He briefly looked at the cognitively conjured original Sayuri , and thought of informing Madarame of its existence, to see what he might be able to glean about his mother, but ultimately decided to keep it a secret.  He might be turning himself in and attempting to make amends, but that didn’t mean the man deserved any solace.

In the following days the Thieves did not meet up much, as they were all busy.  Yusuke was moving into the Kosei dorms, and the Shujin teens had a social studies trip to a television station to attend.  

Yusuke could have used a distraction.  Madarame’s complete breakdown during his public confession had rattled his heart, seeing his former mentor showing more emotion in two minutes than he had ever shown in front of Yusuke.  That, and his display of emotion had become something of a shared joke among the other teens and children of Tokyo (something Ann and Akira had called a ‘meme’ in the group chat.)  Yusuke couldn’t go an hour without hearing someone distantly try and imitate Madarame’s sobbing.

Those at Kosei that didn’t find it amusing instead redirected their attention to Yusuke.  It was no secret that he was Madarame’s pupil, and the common wisdom seemed to be that since he was the only pupil who had always remained, that he must have been ‘in’ on the plagiarism.  That, or they reflexively found Yusuke’s presence disdainful by association with such a scandal and gave no thought to how the two were actually related.  He couldn’t tell which was the more prevalent sentiment.  The various professors remained professionally courteous, but their warmth for Yusuke was tempered now.  Regardless, the outcome was the same across the school: his goodwill had evaporated within a day.

All but with Rin Tezuka.  Yusuke wasn’t sure if she didn’t care or simply was unaware of Yusuke’s now thoroughly tarnished reputation, but she continued to accept his company in the painting class.  Their conversations were sparse, however, as each seemed to have other matters in their minds.

A few days later, Yusuke exhausted his patience with the Kosei dormitories.  They were unclean, and far too noisy to concentrate on any new art pieces.  He also was feeling slightly paranoid that one of the other residents would notice the original Sayuri and start asking questions.  So he packed his things and decided to move out.  Ann had seemed amenable enough when discussing modeling at her residence, he hazily recalled.  With a proper gift, she would most likely be persuaded to allow him to stay there.  On the way to a meet-up with the Thieves, he spent the last of the month’s scholarship stipend on the gift Monaka shaped like cherry blossoms.

Yusuke turned out to be woefully mistaken about being welcome at Ann’s.  He tried to mentally recount where he had gone wrong with his proposal, as the other Thieves debated where he could stay.  Morgana eventually spoke up and offered his and Akira’s room as a place of residence, much to Akira’s chagrin.  Apparently, his living situation of residing above a café was somewhat unknown to the two blond teens, so they decided they should all visit together.  Akira looked exasperated but resigned.

Café Leblanc (Coffee & Curry) was a charming establishment.  The proprietor, an older man with an impressive beard and impeccable fashion sense introduced himself as one Sojiro Sakura.  He seemed oddly taken aback that Akira had made friends at all, and offered them a round of truly delicious coffee in the house before they headed up to the attic.  Apparently, it was where Akira was staying while in Tokyo.  They discussed their plans to work-shop the popularity of the Phantom Thieves, though Yusuke was at something of a loss on the subject.

Their discussion eventually turned to having a hot pot to welcome Yusuke to the group.  Seeing as he had foregone lunch in favor of buying the sweets for Ann, he readily agreed.  They all bought ingredients, while Ann delicately broached the subject of Yusuke staying at Leblanc with Sakura-san.  Once they finished the hot pot, the conversation turned to their history while Ann dozed on the sofa.  Ryuji explained Ann’s story while she slept, how she was eyed suspiciously just for not looking Japanese, how everyone thought of her as ‘exotic’ just for her looks.  It made sense with what he had learned about her, but Yusuke was curious about the two other boys’ lives.

“You know every detail of my past at this point,” he said. “It’s only fair you tell me every detail of yours as well.”

Ryuji shared his story first, how his father had walked out of his life, and how his plan to help his mother had backfired as his dreams of a track scholarship had been shattered along with his kneecap by Kamoshida.  Apparently, his mother blamed herself for not properly caring for him and allowing things to turn out the way they did.  Labeled as a delinquent, he had decided to embrace it.  The more Yusuke learned of his teammates, the more he realized that their first heist had been a deeply personal affair. In trying to improve his family’s lot in life, he had accidentally ruined it.  Small wonder that he took to phantom thievery with such zeal, then.

“When it comes to gettin’ labeled, nobody’s got it worse than Akira,” Ryuji said, glancing at their leader.  Akira had been very quiet throughout most of this, as if he had been anticipating that the conversation would turn this way.  He had briefly shared that he was living in Tokyo under a guardianship, and Ryuji had explained why during a safe room in the Palace: that he had been falsely convicted and put on probation, to be served at Shujin Academy.  Akira seemed reluctant to open up about it, but relented and explained what had happened, with prodding from Morgana.

“I was heading home late from a club meeting at school, and I heard loud talking and screaming from down a nearby street,” he said.  “A drunken guy was harassing a woman, and trying to abduct her.  I pulled him off of her, but he was so wasted he tripped on his own feet and bashed his head on the sidewalk barrier.  When he got up he was pissed, he started threatening me with all sorts of stuff.  He and the woman must have worked together, because she tried to threaten him with some kind of embezzlement claim when he came after me, but he just shrugged it off and said he’d make her take the fall for it.”

“He sounds repulsive,” Yusuke said. “What was he like?”

Akira clasped his hands in front of his face and rested his elbows on his knees.  “It was so dark, and I was so overwhelmed, I can’t really remember.  I remember his voice, though.  ‘The police are my bitches.’” He adopted a breathy voice with a slight slur to the words, in what Yusuke imagined was an imitation of the drunken man.  “When the police came to investigate the noise, they knew him immediately.  He coerced the woman to back up  his story and the officers arrested me, just like he ordered.” The scowl Akira wore was lined with weariness.  He was clearly exhausted just recalling it.

“And your parents just shipped you off to live in another city, just for that?” Morgana asked.

“They didn’t have many options.  My high school expelled me, and they spent weeks trying to find somewhere that would accept someone with a record.  Shujin only accepted me for publicity points, ‘reforming a troubled youth’ and all that.”  The anger had fallen from his face, leaving only the fatigue.  “My parents were at their wit’s end at that point.  Can’t have a future if you’re a convict and a high school drop-out.  It was the only way.”

“Didn’t anyone listen to your side of the story, though?” Ryuji asked.

“Did anyone listen to yours?” Akira countered, and Ryuji fumed.  A somber silence fell between the three boys and the cat.

Yusuke pondered if he would have given a second thought to Akira or Ryuji’s stories before joining the Thieves.  He had dismissed Ryuji on his looks and first impression, so he supposed he would be just one more indifferent face in the crowd had he not had the truth revealed to him.  Ann awoke as they all discussed their resolve, and Yusuke felt the bond between them grow, as they all decided to take the Phantom Thieves as far as they could go.

Having real friends was strange.  For many years, most of Yusuke’s social needs were alternately met or controlled by Madarame.  In talking with other students like Rin, he realized how little he actually understood about social interaction.  Speaking with the Thieves was easier, their shared exploits and alienated social statuses let them bond quickly, but it was becoming clear in talking to them all that Yusuke still had massive holes in his understanding of people.  

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like his moving out of the Kosei dorms was more like running away from his problems.  Rin apparently had much more trouble with social interaction, but she lived in them just fine.  He had just abandoned it as soon as the noise and circumstances had rubbed him the wrong way.  Perhaps he had made the wrong decision after all…

Ann mentioned that Sakura-san had agreed to let him stay at Leblanc.  Well, perhaps one night won’t hurt, he thought.  I can return tomorrow and simply not file the paperwork.

Ann headed home for the night, and the three boys relaxed in the bathhouse across the alley from the coffee shop.  Besides Ryuji desperately asking for their opinion of Ann, they discussed strategies for the Phantom Thieves’ popularity.  At one point, Yusuke caught himself thinking of Madarame, and how he would know exactly what would be needed to increase the appeal of their group, seeing as how he had become an expert in predicting the art world’s taste over the last decade.  Somewhat guiltily, he banished the thought.  They dried off, Ryuji headed home, and Yusuke and Akira settled in for the night.

Yusuke slept easily that night and awoke early the next day, before Akira.  Sakura-san treated him to another excellent cup of coffee, and they chatted about Yusuke’s plans.  He thanked Sakura-san for his hospitality, but decided he needed to interact with more people his own age, and gain insight for his art.  He also wanted to ask Sakura-san about Akira’s circumstances.  He revealed that he was not related to Akira, but a friend of a friend of their parents.  

“I may be overstepping my bounds, but why did you decide to take him in?” Yusuke inquired.

Sakura-san’s brow furrowed.  “My reason, huh… Probably because… he reminds me of my old self.”

Yusuke knew that he probably meant that he had been placed in a similar position to Akira or that something in Akira’s attitude was familiar, but his imagination leapt at the idea of a more physical resemblance.  He swiftly imagined a younger Sakura-san, with Akira’s frizzy hair and large glasses, and he even imagined the opposite: an older Akira in a pink dress shirt, his hair barely tamed.  Something in Yusuke’s mind told him that a thirty-years older Akira wouldn’t be able to pull off the magnificent chin-strap beard that the café’s owner sported.

Sojiro continued on.  “You know how it is, sympathy can make you do stupid things sometimes.  Your art instructor-” he stumbled at Yusuke’s wince. “Former art instructor, he must have felt something for you, besides just stealing your talents.”

Yusuke gazed down into his coffee.  Surely it couldn’t have all been fake?  They had heard the Shadow’s reasoning and explanations, but was that how it had begun?  Would his Shadow have said something else if they had confronted him years earlier?  Though his deeds remained immutable, Yusuke felt a certain unwelcome nostalgia, thinking of his earlier memories of his sensei teaching him how to mix watercolors, or prime a canvas…

“Truth be told… I cannot hate him from the depths of my heart either,” Yusuke said. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment, before Yusuke made ready to leave.

“Hey, are you sure about this?  The painting, I mean.  It’d be a waste to keep it here.” Sakura-san said, gesturing to the original Sayuri on the wall.

Yusuke had come up with the idea while debating what to do about the piece after moving back into the dorms.  Or more specifically, Goemon had come up with it.

If you love something, let it go.  If it was meant to be, it will return to you, he had said to Yusuke last night.  It seemed as good a place to leave the painting, away from the prying eyes that would jump to conclusions at Kosei.  Something about the colors of the painting complimented the atmosphere of Leblanc.  He said his farewells, and headed back to Kosei, to settle in properly this time.  

Just past the gates of Kosei High, he noticed Rin sitting beneath one of the trees on the school’s front lawn, just watching the light Sunday foot traffic.  She nodded to Yusuke, and he had the distant feeling that she was welcoming him back, despite the fact that he had not told her he was moving out.

The following Monday was when Rin finally asked him about Madarame.  They were alone after painting class in their now-traditional painting sessions.

“What was your sensei’s name?” she asked, while filling in a bit of color on a crooked, distended hand.  Her latest piece was a cubist mish-mash of different human forms, something Aisaka-sensei had said was her specialty.

Yusuke sighed deeply, then answered, “His name was Madarame.”

Rin squinted.  “So you are the same Kitagawa that the others were talking about.”

Yusuke did not even bother to ask who these ‘others’ were.  “What have you heard about me?”

“That you’re very pretty,” Rin said.  “Too pretty.”

Yusuke coughed and paused, taken aback by her answer.  It wasn’t like he didn’t know that some might find his sharp features and slim physique attractive, he’d just never really spoken to anyone about it.  He’d mostly overheard discussions other students (mostly girls) had about him when they thought he was absorbed in a piece.  

“Anything else?” he ventured, attempting to regain his composure.

“That you’re…bad?  I forget what word they used.  They didn’t like you, most of them.  Said you were just as worse as your Sensei.  That you were sliding by on good reputation.”  There was the brutal honesty he had come to know from her.

“And what do you think of me, Rin?” Yusuke asked, more somberly than he intended.

She shifted in place, carefully positioning herself to draw a long, thick black line that turned two blocks of color into a human back, then added the suggestion of shoulder blades.  “I try not to think when I’m painting.  It’s distracting.”

Yusuke let out a short hum of understanding. “Does it ever work?”

She shook her head. “Sometimes.  But not today.  Not much since I started here.”  She lowered her brush.  “I wanted to ask you something, but Chika said it might be rude.” Yusuke had heard the name before, and had surmised that Chika was Rin’s neighbor in the dorms who helped her out with dressing and bathing herself.  “I’m not good at guessing what asking might sound like.”

“Ask what you want Rin. I’m sure I’ve heard worse whispered about me in the halls.”

She blinked absently, then turned towards Yusuke.  “Did you know your sensei was bad?  Before his big announcement?” she said.  She had set her brush down and devoted her entire attention towards him.

Wasn’t that a question.  Yusuke paused from his swirling, layered acrylic landscape and collected himself.  How much should he even say?  Surely he’d be interviewed at some point in all this drama and scandal and investigation; better to try and construct a story that would meet the standards of scrutiny. “I didn’t exactly ‘know’ very early, but for some time I suspected.  He was my surrogate father after my mother and father died, so I was disinclined to question his behavior or methods.  I always thought there was something odd about him, but my gratitude kept me from confronting the truth for a very long time.  Too long.”  That seemed to be an apt interpretation.

Rin looked away and was rubbing her feet together nervously again. “I’m sorry, Yusuke, I didn’t know you had no parents.”  

It was a bit of a tangent, but Yusuke had grown used to it.  “Don’t feel bad Rin.  You couldn't have known.”

She swung her leg restlessly.  “I couldn’t but I do now.  I think about my life and things and now you’re there like that homeless person.” 

Now that one threw him for a loop.  “I’m sorry?” he asked.  Rin paused for a long moment, with her eyes closed, breathing deeply.  Yusuke had seen her like this once or twice, when she summoned all her concentration to try and explain something as clearly as she could.

“I have so much trouble talking and understanding feelings and saying the right thing, and people say mean things about me when they think I cannot hear them, and Sensei expects me to make really great art and he will be visiting me some time soon and my parents know nothing about art and they do not want to know they just want to me to do good.”  The words flowed out of her in a torrent.  “But then I met you and learned about your life and you have all the same things wrong, but more. You have no parents at all and your Sensei was awful and now people think you are bad, not just weird and it is like the homeless man I see in the subway.”  Yusuke had a distinct feeling he knew which transient she was referring to.  

Her face was beginning to turn red as she rushed to use this moment of relative clarity to its fullest.  “I have all these things wrong with my life and I try to think about what I need to change and then I see him and his life is worse, so maybe all these things wrong with my life are fine and I am the one who is wrong an-”

“Rin!” Yusuke half-shouted, placing a hand on her shoulder.  “Please breathe, slow down.”  Her glassy green eyes looked close to tears, and she was almost panting now. 

Yusuke didn’t really know what to do in this circumstance, comforting someone so clearly distressed.  He imagined what he would do if he could go back and just…sit with Hitoshi-senpai.  Just…be there for him, and try to tell him that things would work out.

“Your life is not wrong because it is better than someone else’s Rin,” Yusuke said. “Your pain and frustration are just as real as mine, no matter if some part of your life seems better than mine.  Please, understand that,” Yusuke said, trying his best to channel some combination of Ann and Akira, the two most soothing people he knew at the moment.  “You have a right to be upset.  You cannot tell yourself that since your life could be worse, that there is something wrong with you for feeling unsatisfied or uncertain about your life.”

Rin nodded, absorbing his words.  She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek.  She tried to rub it off with her shoulder and stump, but could not quite reach.  Yusuke retrieved his handkerchief, and held it aloft.

“May I?” he asked.  She nodded, and he moved closer to wipe her cheek and unfallen tears, then replaced the cloth in his pocket.  

Silence hung in the air for a minute.

“I don’t have a place to eat lunch anymore,” Rin eventually said in a small voice.

She must have moved on from…whatever she had been thinking about to send her into that spiral.  “Where did you previously eat lunch?” Yusuke asked.

“The roof,” she said.  “They closed it a few months ago.”  Yusuke remembered the announcement in mid-April that the roof would be locked and off-limits after an ‘incident’ at another school.  Yusuke had caught some of the rumors and learned that a student at Shujin Academy had thrown themselves off the roof, but survived.  He thought little of it at the time, but looking back at it now with the Phantom Thieves’ story of their first Palace and the incidents at Shujin that preceded it… Ann had not specified how her friend was hurt, but now it seemed obvious.

“Well, I know a lovely spot in the courtyard under the Japanese maple, if you would like to join me,” he offered. “I often forget or can’t afford my lunch, however.”

A tiny smile curled Rin’s mouth.  “You can have some of mine.  Chika always packs me too much.”

Yusuke returned the smile.  “It’s a deal, then.”

Chapter Text

Rin and Yusuke did not have a chance to paint together after class much after that day, as when the Thieves met up to discuss a new target, Akira came trailing an unwelcome guest: the Shujin student council president.  She had apparently managed to record a conversation where Ryuji and Ann admitted to being the Phantom Thieves.  Despite his disappointment in his teammates, Yusuke was privately relieved; if another one of their members had attended Kosei, Yusuke was certain he would have been the one to have let it slip.  He was the most secure member simply by virtue of having no one to talk about their group with.

‘Miss President’s’ (Ryuji’s term) demands were surprising.  She didn’t want to turn the Phantom Thieves in to the authorities, but wanted them to change the heart of someone dangerous, and would only report them if they failed or refused.  A meeting on the roof of Shujin the next day (that Yusuke was not privy to) revealed that she wanted to take down a mafia organization targeting Shujin students with an extortion and blackmail racket.  With no more information, it was up to the Thieves to discover their boss’s name and change his heart.  Yusuke couldn’t help much with the early investigation, seeing as it was all focused on Shujin and its students, so Yusuke focused on his paintings while at school.

Rin seemed even less present than usual at their lunch in one of Kosei’s interior courtyards.  Yusuke tried to put the demand placed on the Thieves out of his mind and focus on his new pieces, but his new friend’s distantness left him to focus on his feelings of inadequacy.  He had reviewed all his pieces since he had left Madarame’s atelier, and each of them seemed to be lacking.  None of them could hope to compare to his inspiration in the Sayuri , and Yusuke felt himself perversely nostalgic for his time under Madarame’s tutelage.

Life felt simpler under Madarame.  It was easier to think of only art, when your teacher was a famous artist who provided for your needs.  Now Yusuke was out in the world, actually using his Kosei art scholarship he had previously taken for granted.  He needed to prove he was worthy of such an honor to keep it, especially with the clouds of suspicion that hung around him after the scandal.  

Rin was also attending Kosei on a scholarship, but she seemed to not to be plagued by the same issues Yusuke was.  It was somewhat unsurprising, as her work was always intriguing, even when it was uncomfortable or incomprehensible.  She also created new pieces with remarkable speed, sometimes turning out new abstracts within days of each other.  However, her speed of painting had slowed as of late, as she stared into half-finished canvases and waffled on the direction of each piece.  

While the Thieves were still searching for a way to handle the mafia boss, Yusuke asked Akira for his advice on his new melancholy and artist block, to which Akira suggested getting out and seeing more of the city for inspiration.  Looking back later, the idea was obvious to Yusuke, but Madarame had held such tight control over his pupils, simply leaving and wandering the city was not an idea that came to him naturally.  In light of their activities, Yusuke suggested a trip to Mementos to investigate the nature of the human heart, to which Akira agreed.  (Looking back, Yusuke would wonder if Akira had just been humoring him, or if he thought Yusuke might get carried away and hurt himself.)

It was fortunate that Akira had joined him, as they encountered Shadows in their expedition and had to dispatch them.  From their inky remains, Akira recovered a blank card, which gave Yusuke an idea.  He’d seen Akira use similar cards to grant his recruited Personas new abilities, and Yusuke wondered if he might be able to copy the art on these cards to reproduce their cognitive effects.  The blank card gave him the perfect opportunity to try.  A few minutes later, Akira looked at his replica, and said it would be just as good as the real thing.  

The two struck a deal before leaving Mementos, Akira agreeing to be Yusuke’s guide around Tokyo and personal art critic for any pieces he intended to display publicly, if Yusuke would make more ‘skill cards’ for him if he did.  It felt like a mirror of his deal with Rin, and it felt right that he had someone to confide in, both in and out of Kosei.

A few days later, Yusuke was eating lunch with Rin.  He had helped himself to more of her orange chicken than was perhaps polite, but she didn’t seem to mind.  She finished chewing the last of the broccoli from her bento, before she spoke up.  “I need your help, Yusuke.”

He finished his own bite and replied, “With what, Rin?”

“My Sensei is visiting in a few weeks.”  She had mentioned him previously, apparently he was a retired artist-turned-art instructor at Yamaku Academy, and his recommendation had gotten Rin her scholarship at Kosei.  “He wants me to put on another show.”

“Another?” probed Yusuke.

“He had a friend in Sendai who owned an art gallery.  I lived in the attic for a few weeks, making pieces for a show.  We put a bunch of paintings up.  A bunch of Sensei’s business friends came, and asked me questions and…”  she trailed off, muttering to herself.  Yusuke noticed Rin rubbing her feet together, her tell that she was nervous.

“An entire gallery for your work is very impressive at your age,” Yusuke had hoped to try and cheer her up with praise, but her expression instead darkened, approaching as close to a scowl as Yusuke thought she might be capable.  Best to change tactics. “But you didn’t like it?”

“I thought it would be nice, but they all wanted to know about me, and there were so many questions and people.”  Her voice had grown very small. “I tried to answer their questions with the gallery, but they just kept asking.”

“And you’re afraid it will happen again with this new exhibition he wants to put on?” Yusuke asked, returning to their original thread.

Rin nodded.  “He and his friends say I need a theme, or something special, but I don’t even know what that would be.” She paused.  “Snaps would know.”

“Snaps?” Yusuke asked.

Rin looked up from her bento. “She was the student council president of Yakamu.  She couldn’t talk or hear, so she was really good at snapping to get your attention.”  Yusuke wondered how she might compare to the student council president of Shujin that was currently threatening them.  Rin continued, “She always had a really loud, really pink girl with her.  She would wave her hands to talk with the president, and say what the president said with her hands.  It was her who made me make the mural for the school festival.  She was always good at running big things like the festival.”

“Which one, the president or her interpreter?” Yusuke asked.

Rin looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Dunno.  They were kind of like one person in my head.”  Yusuke saw the faintest smile cross Rin’s face.

That’s when he had an idea.

“You reminisce about your classmates at Yamaku with such fondness, perhaps that could be a theme at your new show,” Yusuke suggested.  “The friends who you’ve met in your life.”

Rin turned to him and looked deep into his eyes.  (Eye contact with Rin seemed to be an all-or-nothing affair; she either avoided looking even vaguely near you like you were a Gorgon who might turn her to stone, or she locked eyes and gazed directly into your soul.)

“Does that seem like a good idea?” she asked.  Despite the wording, she seemed to be genuinely curious.

“It seems as good a theme as any other,” Yusuke said. “It’s a unique experience, and I think people would be intrigued to see a gallery that focuses on the experience of the disabled, by a disabled artist.” Yusuke winced as he said the end of his sentence, not quite realizing how that would sound until it had left his mouth.  Rin, however, let her face return to her normal impassivity.

“Would Sensei like that?” she mused to herself. “Focusing on the school I left?”

“Please, Rin,” Yusuke offered. “As one who let their sensei control their career for too long, allow me to tell you that what he prefers should not stop you.  If it is to be your show, you should decide what happens in it.”

She thought for a moment, before smiling one of her very small smiles.  “Thanks Yusuke.”  She paused.  “Could you…be there when Sensei visits?”

The looming deadline of the demands from “Miss President” crossed his mind, but he readily agreed.  It was the least he could do for a friend who, more and more, seemed to be trapped in a scenario intimately familiar to Yusuke.

Chapter Text

The Thieves’ investigation of the Shibuya mafia quickly spiraled out of control.  From discovering their boss’s name of Junya Kaneshiro, and his subsequent Palace that encompassed all of Shibuya, to the Shujin student council president Makoto Niijima recklessly provoking the mafia in an attempt to help the Thieves, to her awakening a Persona in Kaneshiro’s flying bank.

Seeing a Persona awakening from the outside was quite a different experience.  Yusuke held in his head only vague recollections of his own: bleeding fingers, reciting poetry and frozen Shadows.  Niijima-senpai shattered the bank’s flooring with a stomp and tore her mask off to reveal biker leathers and a nuclear motorcycle named after an apocryphal pope.

It was glorious.

With Niijima-senpai on their team, they began their infiltration in earnest.  Soon, Yusuke settled into a comfortable rhythm of Metaverse infiltration, expeditions around Tokyo with the Thieves, and spending time with Rin as she began to paint Yamaku students.  Rin claimed she was ‘bad at remembering’ but her recreations were striking.  

The first day, she had tried to work on her old sketch of the boy.  Yusuke noticed that there was a line of red down his chest that looked like a large scar, superimposed over his shirt and tie.  Rin fiddled with it for the rest of the day, before returning it to her room and starting on another painting.

The new image was a portrait of a girl from the shoulders up, chest facing the canvas, but head turned to a profile view.  She had long dark hair, but the most notable feature was the burn scarring that covered the side of her face, and trailed down her neck and beneath her shirt.  It was…fascinating.  Rin had chosen acrylic paint again, and was using it to create the same lattice-like texture she’d been practicing, and the gruesome detail in her scars was entracing.  The burns stretched towards the front of her face like the roots of a plant, and carefully curled around her eye.  Her dark hair was swept to the left by wind, and in the dark, fleshy mishmash of the deep parts of the scarring, Rin had begun to play with the colors and textures, such that it was difficult to tell where the scars ended and her hair began.

“Was she a friend of yours?” Yusuke asked, as Rin filled in part of her hair, adding a slight purple hue on the edge, and carefully using a fan brush to create the suggestion of strands in the hair.

“No,” Rin responded.  Yusuke waited for more, but she seemed focused on her work.  

“Then how did you know her?” Yusuke asked, too used to Rin to be offended by how terse she was.

“She was around,” she said, dabbing more purple on her brush. “She was scared of everything and hated being around anyone who could see her.  I tried to ask her for help once and she flew away.  I don’t think she was actually disabled, just ran if anyone looked at her the wrong way.”

“I see,” Yusuke said, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought now that it had started. 

“Lily didn’t,” Rin said, a humorless smirk on her lips. “She spent her time with a blind girl named Lily.  They always had tea together.”  Rin lowered her brush and glanced over at Yusuke.  “Why is it so easy to talk to you?”

Yusuke was slightly taken aback.  He certainly didn’t consider himself an expert on socialization, or easy to talk to, but over the last few months he felt Rin had become more comfortable around him, at the very least.

“I don’t know, Rin,” he said. “I’ll listen whenever I can, if talking to me is easier for you.”

She nodded, and turned back to her painting.

“So,” Akira said, a wide grin splitting his lips.  “I heard a very interesting rumor going around Kosei about you, Fox.”

The Thieves were in a safe room in the depths of Kaneshiro’s bank.  Akira had called for a fifteen minute break, and Makoto had distributed snacks and medical supplies.  

Yusuke was a bit surprised that Akira would be so concerned with rumors, considering his experience at Shujin.  “Where would you have even heard a rumor from Kosei, Joker?” he asked, cracking the tab on a canned drink.

“From Togo-san,” Akira replied, his ‘Joker smirk’ not leaving his face.  Of course.  After Yusuke had directed Akira to his fellow Kosei student, the minorly famous shogi player Hifumi Togo, she had become another of Akira’s ‘contacts.’  They had been spending a lot of time together, and some of the battle tactics she had taught Akira were working quite well.  “Apparently, our dear Fox has a girlfriend.”

Yusuke choked on his drink, which was better than Ann, who spit the Joylent she was drinking all over Morgana, who hissed.

“For real?!” Ryuji shouted, and Makoto chided him to quiet down. “Sorry Queen.  I just figured he’d have a secret boyfriend, if anyone.”

“Fox, you have to tell us about her!” Ann said, slamming both her hands on the table.  She had recovered from her drink mishap before he could.

Yusuke cleared his throat.  “I’m not in a romantic relationship with anyone at the moment.”

“Oh, so who’s the girl you share lunch with in the courtyard, who you also spend every painting class with, even staying after classes are done with her?” Akira asked, smugly.  Ann and Makoto gasped.

Yusuke had been too focused to notice the rumors that were apparently swirling around Kosei.  “Her name is Rin, and she’s a fellow painter who needs assistance,” he said.

“That much assistance, though?” Ryuji asked, now invested in the chatter.

Yusuke sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his mask.  “Rin-san needs quite a lot of help.  She’s a double amputee, she’s missing both her arms.”

The mood in the safe room shifted. Akira and Makoto’s eyes widened, Ann covered her mouth with her hand and Morgana made a suspiciously cat-like noise.

“Oh shit,” Ryuji said. “So, how does she paint?” Ann glared at him.

“She paints with her feet,” Yusuke responded. “She’s extremely flexible, and can accomplish most of her daily tasks with her feet.  I just provide occasional assistance with things she cannot reach and the like.”

“So…you’re helping her eat her lunch?” Morgana asked.

“No, she can manage lunch on her own,” he said.  “She actually shares her lunch with me as thanks.  I’ve become a second set of eyes for her paintings, and something of a confidant for artistic decisions.”

The Thieves mulled over Yusuke’s words for a moment before Makoto spoke up.  “You say she’s not your girlfriend, Fox, but this whole scenario you’ve described sounds rather intimate.  Romantic, even.”

“I assure you, she is only a friend,” Yusuke reiterated. “I have no interest in a romantic relationship with her.”

“What about her?” Akira asked. “Does she think of you that way?”

Yusuke pondered.  “Rin’s thought process is a mystery.  She’d had great difficulty expressing herself in words, but I don’t believe she’s made any advances towards me.  I think she might have what’s called a ‘communication disorder.’”

Makoto made a noise of affirmation as she touched her hand to her lips in thought. “I’ve heard about that recently.  People who struggle with language and expressing their thoughts?”

“I heard about it too,” added Ryuji.  “It means that someone can’t talk, even if they really, really want to, right?”

“Rin can speak,” Yusuke said. “She just has trouble saying what she means, and often she gets distracted with saying the wrong thing.”

“She doesn’t say what she means, or mean what she says, huh?” Ann said. “I’d still like to meet her.”

Yusuke pondered what that could look like.  He was no great expert on how personalities interacted, but he couldn’t see it going particularly well.  “Perhaps, Panther,” he said. “I’ll see if she’s amenable to the idea.”

“Break’s almost over,” Akira announced. “Down those drinks, we’ve got passcodes to find!”

It was the next day that Rin indicated to Yusuke that her teacher would be visiting.  Yusuke canceled his plans with Ryuji and Makoto, and they waited after class in the painting room, Rin working on her portrait of the burned girl, and Yusuke sketching out alternate ideas of his piece Desire , which had bombed at the gallery he had recently displayed it in. 

There was a knock at the door, but the knocker did not wait for either of them to say anything before sliding the classroom door open.  He was an older man, his short silver hair unevenly styled, with wild, exaggerated eyebrows, a carefully shaved gray mustache and small stripe on his chin.  His face was wizened with age, but with a broad grin and a somewhat square or rectangular face.  He was as tall as Yusuke, but not as gangly-proportioned.  Indeed, he had a health gut that spilled over his belt line.  

His unremarkable build was counteracted by his fashion choices that reminded Yusuke of what he had observed of Shinjuku street fashion, transplanted onto business-wear.  He wore a white dress shirt with pinstripes and his coat was an off-orange color, pale and washed out.  One of Yusuke’s color theory teachers had once described it as ‘fulvous.’  His tie was equally atrocious.  It was a pale yellow, like the interior of a lemon, spotted with bright red shapes that weren’t round enough to be polka dots, but weren't defined enough to read as anything else (Yusuke eventually settled on ‘rose petals.’) His navy dress pants were tame by comparison, but his ash-gray loafers clashed horribly.  To top it all off, he had pink-lensed pince-nez spectacles pinched on the bridge of his nose.  This was the man who had taught Rin art?

“Tezuka!  So good to see you again!” he shouted boisterously, striding across the empty classroom. His voice was deep, but had a definite rasp to it. “How are things at Kosei?  Still developing your skills?”

Yusuke glanced at Rin, who looked to be almost trying to hide behind her canvas.  “Hello.” Her voice was small again.  Resigned.  Yusuke felt himself stand up as the teacher moved closer, almost like he was interceding between the two.

“Oh my, didn’t see you behind the canvas, my boy.  Who might you be?” he asked.

“Yusuke Kitagawa, second year.”  Yusuke performed a stiff bow.

The teacher stuck his hand out for a handshake in response. “Shinichi Nomiya, a pleasure to meet you!”  Yusuke took his offered hand, and gave it a formal shake.  “Wait, Kitagawa…” Nomiya was scratching his cheek in thought.  “Any relation to Ichika Kitagawa?”

Yusuke was stunned.  He’d never heard his mother’s name from anyone but Madarame, and even then only once.  “Yes,” he said, a slight waver in his voice. “She was my mother.”

“Hah, I knew it!  You’ve got her face, my boy.”  Nomiya’s demeanor shifted, quieted slightly. “We were fellow artists in Tokyo, before I left to teach in Sendai.  I was heartbroken to hear of her passing all those years ago.” His face darkened further, the shadow of a scowl crossing it. “But her husband had already passed at that point, so that would mean…”

Yusuke definitely wanted to head this off.  “I was raised by her acquaintance, Ichiryusai Madarame.”

The scowl turned to pity.  “Oh, I see.  I’m sorry you had to live with that con man all these years, it must have been exhausting.”

Exhausting was not the right word, but it felt like it described the man he was talking to perfectly.  “It was,” was all Yusuke could offer.

“I never much cared for the man, myself,” Nomiya continued, obviously back on more familiar ground.  “Something about him rubbed me the wrong way.  Never included him in Yamaku’s curriculum… But I’m getting ahead of myself, I’m guessing you’re a friend of our dear prodigy?” Nomiya gestured at Rin, who was looking at the conversation with her usual impassive mask, but Yusuke could tell that there was tension coiled underneath.

“Yes, she is my friend.” Yusuke managed to say.

“Good, glad to know she made some friends here,” Nomiya said. “Now, excuse us Kitagawa, but I’d like to chat with my former pupil.”  He moved away from Yusuke to next to Rin.  “So, Tezuka, have you thought about the next gallery showing?”

“I have thought about it,” Rin replied.  She had gotten better about not giving these kinds of non-answers recently, but in talking to Nomiya Yusuke saw a reversion in her.

“And, have you settled on a theme?  Or at least a special sub-exhibit?” Nomiya said.

“I have.  Yusuke helped me think of it,” Rin said.  

Nomiya looked over at Yusuke.  A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.  “Ah, not just a friend but a muse?  Lovely to see.”  He turned back to Rin and clapped a hand on her shoulder.  Rin’s eye twitched in what Yusuke thought might be a repressed wince.  “You were so apprehensive after that Nakai boy, but you managed to find another one at a new school!  Good job, Tezuka.”

As Nomiya reviewed what Rin had done so far for this gallery showing he had planned for her, Yusuke watched him.  From what little he had seen, Yusuke did not like Shinichi Nomiya.  He reminded Yusuke far, far too much of his former mentor.  In obvious ways, like his profession and age, and in not-so-obvious ways; even the ways in which Nomiya was unlike Madarame reminded Yusuke of his former guardian.  Nomiya’s ridiculous fashion sense and boisterous, overly friendly demeanor was a mirror opposite of Madarame’s humble earth-tone robes and practiced, good-natured humility, but they felt like parallel approaches to the same issue.  They were both charming and disarming, both harmless old men.  But the similarities were unmistakable.  The way Nomiya spoke of the gallery show, despite Rin’s lack of interest or comfort, was an almost exact match for the way Madarame spoke of ‘needing pieces.’

In a break room during a Palace infiltration, Ryuji and Akira had been speaking of different superheroes, and explained to a clueless Yusuke the concept of alternate universe versions of heroes and villains.  The conversation felt strangely applicable to his current circumstance.  In Nomiya, Yusuke saw an alternate Madarame, one who had decided to be louder and more visible, but still felt the need to control his students.

Yusuke tuned back into their conversation.  “I’m not sure focusing on your old schoolmates is the best theme for a series,” Nomiya said. “You should choose something else, I think.”

“I want to paint them,” Rin responded flatly.

“And what’s the appeal of the series supposed to be?” Nomiya countered.  Rin looked down, and was twisting her toes together.  Yusuke felt it was time to speak up.

“I’m sorry, sir.  But shouldn’t Rin-san decide what goes into her show?” Yusuke said.  Nomiya looked at him with surprise, as if he had forgotten that Yusuke was there.  There was none of the venom or bitterness that Yusuke had expected, just surprise.  Nomiya looked between Yusuke and Rin, before he shrugged.

“Very well.  Your last showing went splendidly, with the one notable exception,” Nomiya said, trying to give a knowing look to Rin, but she was averting her eyes. “Here’s hoping you can prove me wrong with this one!”  He laughed too loudly, said his goodbyes and left the classroom.

Yusuke moved a little closer to Rin.  “I can see why you wanted me here, Rin.”

Rin’s face was her usual expressionless mask, but Yusuke could tell she was exhausted by the encounter.  She stood from her stool, and moved to Yusuke, then leaned against him, face in his chest.  Yusuke had the instinct to move away, but something in his mind kept him rooted.  It occurred to him that if Rin had arms, she might have been hugging him right now.

“Thank you, Yusuke,” she said, her voice unsteady.

“You are welcome, Rin,” he responded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Chapter Text

Rin's explorations of her Yamaku classmates continued after Nomiya's first visit.  She produced another painting of a darker-skinned girl with long hair in a gym uniform, who had a bandaged stump in place of her left hand.  Rin had drawn her in a rather risqué pose, stretching her legs as if she was about to run, while dressed in rather tight spats that left little to the imagination.  Yusuke didn't mind, in fact Rin's use of highlights and contours to create the shape of the muscles in her legs was excellent, but Yusuke had also become more aware of how a piece might be perceived after his debacle with Ann modeling.  The only answer Rin supplied as to her identity was "Emi's friend."   He had the opportunity to learn more about Emi a few days later, when Rin began sketching out dozens of rough figures on a sketch pad.  She usually did not bother with a sketch pad, so Yusuke glanced curiously at the figures, attempting to find what about the subject merited this much exploration.

The figures were all of the same person, their only distinguishing features being thin twin-tails that trailed behind them in all the dynamic running poses they had been drawn in, and strangely curved lower legs.

"It's Emi," Rin said in response to Yusuke's quiet observation, hovering over her shoulder.

"Are her legs prosthetics?" Yusuke asked, hazarding a guess at the strange backwards curve of her calves and lack of ankles.

Rin made a noise of affirmation.  "She was a runner.  She lost both legs.  She became a runner again for the track team."  Rin paused for a moment.  "I hope she's still a runner."

Yusuke was struck with a twisting feeling in his gut.  A runner who lost both her legs… Yusuke found himself imagining what would happen if he lost his dominant hand, or if he was suddenly stricken blind.  What would his life look like, robbed of his most defining features, or forced to re-learn his talents with these new obstacles?  Would he even be able to help the Phantom Thieves, or might he be reassigned to new duties by their new strategist Makoto?

As he thought of all of that, his apprehension and pity turned to shame.  Here he was, worrying about how he would fare if he lost his hands, when Rin was sitting right beside him, using her feet to draw her friend who had kept her title of 'runner' despite losing both legs.  He felt guilty, imagining his life to be over if he became disabled in some way, when he was presented with evidence that life goes on, no matter what happens to you. 

He thought of the former track team member on his own team, Ryuji.  Ryuji wasn't disabled by the same metric that Rin or this Emi were, but he had been forced to retire his ambitions when Kamoshida had broken his leg and disbanded the Shujin track team.  Ryuji could walk just fine, but the injury still plagued him.  He tried to hide it, to keep the team from worrying, but Yusuke noticed the way he winced when he had to dodge an attack, the way he hissed when they had to crawl through air ducts in Palaces and the way he clutched and massaged his knee in the Palace safe rooms when he thought no one was looking.  But even with his injury he might never completely recover from, he had found new purpose in the Phantom Thieves, and was even running in his spare time again, according to Akira.

"I'm sure she's doing just fine, Rin," Yusuke supplied, noticing Rin's dark expression.

"It's not Emi enough," Rin said, finishing a sketch, and reviewing all the miniature figures on the page.

"Pardon?" Yusuke asked, slightly confused.

"I want to show Emi at her Emi-ist," Rin explained.  "She's really amazing when she runs.  It's when she's most like herself: she's at her Emi-ist.  If I paint her, I want to paint that."

"But her at her 'Emi-ist' is her in motion," Yusuke said, attempting to finish her thought. "A difficult proposition for a painting."

Rin nodded, before trying a few more gesture sketches.  Yusuke observed a bit longer before resuming the painting he had started, inspired by the form of a Shadow: a skeletal matador with a cutlass. 

Nomiya stopped by a second time before leaving Tokyo, but kept to himself, just observing and commenting on the techniques Rin used. 

Before the Thieves knew it, summer break was almost upon them.  Kaneshiro had been dealt with, and their exams were looming.  Makoto tempted Yusuke with food into studying with his Shujin teammates, but it did little to prepare him for his Kosei exams.

He talked with Rin, and only when comparing exam schedules did he realize that she was actually a year ahead of him.  Yusuke felt obscurely embarrassed that he had been so casual with his senpai, but Rin had never mentioned it, so it seemed odd to start acknowledging it now.  The two also discussed their plans for summer break, with both of them choosing to remain at Kosei over the break.  Yusuke, out of necessity, and Rin by choice.  Not many students did, but it was available to those with scholarships.

"I should go home and see Mother and Father," she said, as they ate together in the courtyard.  After the conversation with the Thieves, he now noticed how others looked at them as they both sat, back to the tree trunk.  It was no wonder the rumors had started.

"What makes you so hesitant, then?" Yusuke asked.  Rin didn't respond, and instead stirred her fork with her foot in the ravioli she had for lunch.

"I should go," she repeated. "But it's never good."  Yusuke wondered if perhaps her home environment was rougher than he imagined.  "Mother and Father love me.  They say so a lot, I think because they think I don't think they do.  They pay for a lot of things and help me out a lot, but I don't think they know much about me or my art."  Yusuke couldn't fault most people for not knowing or understanding much about Rin, it had become a full-time effort on Yusuke's part.  But still, her own parents wouldn't?

"I do love them too, but..." Rin paused, staring away.  She was still absently stirring her food, slowly reducing it to a paste. "Whenever we're together, we're no good.  I say things that are weird to them, or I can't understand what they mean and they get upset.  They try and hide it, pretend that everything is okay, but I never find the right words.  I upset them.  And we don't talk." She abandoned her fork in the ravioli bowl and laid her legs out straight.  "And I can't bear that.  Not this year." 

Yusuke wasn't sure what to say.  Any parents who didn't support their child was a tragedy, but parents who supported their children in place of understanding them was... it was supposed to be admirable, correct?  To provide and love your child even if you didn't fully agree or comprehend them was noble.  But when Rin spoke about it, he could hear the notes of sadness she had suppressed.

"I don't know what to say, Rin," Yusuke admitted.  "But I will be here for you if you stay."

What had looked like it would be a relaxing summer break became exciting quickly when what Makoto called an "international hacktivists collective" declared war on the Phantom Thieves, making headlines across Japan.  Eventually, after a few days of great uncertainty and misdirection, a solution to the Medjed issue presented itself in the form of Sojiro's previously unknown agoraphobic adopted daughter.

Futaba Sakura was traumatized by the death of her mother, and had developed a Palace located entirely within Sojiro's house.  She had agreed to "deal" with Medjed via chat, but they had yet to actually speak with her.  It was a surprise to all of them that someone was requesting their own heart be changed, but upon elaboration from Morgana that a Palace could develop from any strong enough desire, even something like extreme trauma, it became more understandable.  Futaba's Palace took the form of a beautiful Egyptian pyramid with a vast desert surrounding it.  Such a vast complex was difficult and dangerous to explore, so the Thieves paced their new Palace infiltration carefully.

A week later, on one of their days off,  Yusuke was preparing to head to Inokashira Park to people-watch, and turned a blind corner in one of the nearly-empty outdoor Kosei hallways and collided painfully with someone. (As they fell to the ground, Yusuke reflected on the exceptionally poor luck of running directly into another person with the school as deserted as it was over summer break.)

Yusuke heard a yelp as he and the person he had hit both tumbled over, ending with them both sprawled on the ground. They both called out apologies, but when Yusuke reached for the object logged under his legs, he realized that it was a human leg.  A plastic human leg, with a striped legging covering it and a shoe on the bottom.  Yusuke forgot that he had just run into someone as he stared at the plastic leg in horror and fascination.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re supposed to come off!” said the girl he had run into, and Yusuke snapped out of it and looked over at her.  Even sitting on the floor she was quite short, dressed in a white t-shirt, with a green tank top over it, and khaki shorts.  She had a matching striped legging on her right leg, and her left leg ended just below the knee.  She had bright green eyes that were wincing in pain, a very young-looking face, and light brown hair that was done up in thin twin-tails.  She was rubbing the side of her head from her impact with the floor.

He only had vague prior knowledge, but Yusuke had the distinct impression he knew exactly who this was.

“I’m sorry, I was rushing like an idiot, didn’t look where I was going,” the girl said, feeling just below the knee on her right leg.  Her voice was bright and cheerful, despite the circumstances. “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” Yusuke said.  “What about you?”

“Probably just a minor bump,” she said, inspecting her stump.

Yusuke stood up and offered a hand to the girl, while gesturing to a nearby bench.  “Please, let me help you.”

“Aw, thanks, stranger!” she said as she grabbed Yusuke’s hand and hobbled over to the bench, where she accepted her prosthetic leg from him.  She further inspected her left leg for injury. The skin looked a little red to Yusuke.  

“Are you alright?” he asked again.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I can handle a minor friction burn like this,” she said, then rolled down the legging from the prosthetic to reveal a silicone cap that she removed, then rolled back over her stump and up over the knee, fitting tightly. It had a few metal pieces on the exterior, which is how Yusuke guessed the slip attached to the leg, and was proven right as she attached the leg to it with a soft click .  She tested it out briefly, bouncing her leg in place, before rolling her legging up over her knee, hiding the prosthetic.

Well, this seemed like as good a time as any for this.  “This may seem odd, but would your name happen to be Emi?” Yusuke asked.

The girl stared up at him from the bench.  “Yeah, it is!” she said.  “How’d you know?”

Yusuke felt a smile form on his face. “I’m a friend of Rin Tezuka.  She’s mentioned you, and you fit her description extremely closely.”

Emi’s face lit up.  “You know Rin?!  Rin has friends here?!  Oh, I should actually introduce myself.  I’m Emi Ibarazaki.”

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” he responded.

“So you’re Yusuke,” she said. “Rin’s mentioned you a few times.”

“Only good things, I hope?” he asked.

Emi thought for a second. “Well, she said you’re kind of famous and very thin.”  That kind of scattershot description definitely sounded like Rin.  “She’s even vaguer over texts than she is in person, if you can believe that.”

“That does seem hard to achieve,” Yusuke chuckled. “So, Ibarazaki-san, you were her best friend from Yamaku, correct?”

“Eh, ‘best’ is a really strong word,” she said. “The staff paired us up because we’d have a full set of functioning limbs between us.”  She bounced her leg as part of the joke.  “I kind of took care of everything she needed help with.  Packing boxed lunches, dressing and undressing, washing her back and hair…”

“I see,” he said.  “So what brings you all the way from Sendai?  Visiting Rin, I suppose?”

“That’s why I’m at Kosei, yeah,” she said. “There was a summer meeting and some prelims for the para-games in Tokyo, prepping for 2020, and I thought I should stop by.”  Emi fiddled with one of her twintails, then looked at Yusuke with a more serious expression.  “Is Rin doing okay, here, Kitagawa-kun?”

“She’s certainly improving her technique and producing many pieces.  Her style was already quite well developed, but she seems to be bra-”

“No,” Emi interjected. “Is she…doing okay beyond her art?”

Ah, wasn’t that the ten-million yen question.  Yusuke felt like he was the perfectly wrong person to ask that of.  “She’s… well, she seems very troubled.  The art instructor from Yamaku visited recently and said she should have another gallery showing ready by the spring.”

“Another one…” Emi muttered. “Did she ever tell you how the last one went?”

“Briefly,” Yusuke said, hesitantly.  “She indicated that it was difficult for her.”

“That’s one way to say it.  She collapsed in the middle of it.  She got swarmed with all these adults who wanted to know more about the paintings and about her, and she…” Emi searched for the right terms.  “Her legs just gave out and she shut down.  And…it kind of feels like she never turned back on, if you get what I mean.”

Yusuke’s eyes narrowed.

“Her boyfriend took her outside the gallery for some fresh air, but when she came back she looked…” She shook her head, and Yusuke could almost see her shaking away her somber tone and doubts.  “Ah, I dunno what I’m saying!  She’s doing great!  She’s just really applying herself for the first time, I’m sure.”

Yusuke applied a smile to his face that he did not entirely mean. “Of course.  Do you know where her room is?”

Emi smirked.  “Not really.  She didn’t include that in the text.  I had to look up where Kosei High even was.  Good thing I ran into you, huh?”

Yusuke smiled more genuinely and stood up, offering his hand to Emi. “Let me guide you to her room, then,”  She took his hand and pulled herself upright.  “After that I should be on my way.”

“Kind of you to offer,” she said.  Yusuke guided Emi through the Kosei dorms, and they eventually arrived at Rin’s room.  

Yusuke knocked tentatively.  “Hello, Rin?  You have a visitor.”

There was a pause, before a faint “Come in,” echoed from within the room.  Yusuke slid open the door to Rin, reading something on a tablet.  Her room was much the same layout as Yusuke, with a canvas scattered around.  Yusuke noticed the painting of the boy, slightly more complete than previously, hidden behind another canvas.

“Rin, so good to see you again!” Emi charged in. “Your friend Yusuke was kind enough to guide me!”

Rin gave Yusuke a look he could not decipher. “Thank you, Yusuke,” she said, a small smile forming on her lips.  He nodded, then slipped away to allow the two friends their reunion, it seemed rude to intrude.

Chapter Text

Later that day, Yusuke received a chat message from a new person while in the park.

88-SmilesPerHour: Hey Yusuke, this is Emi!  I’ve got prelims for a meet tomorrow, around 13:00.  I invited Rin, and she wanted me to invite you (texting is hard for her.)

Yusuke thought for a moment. He did promise Ann a meeting with Rin.

TokyoDaVinci: I’d be thrilled to attend.  Would you mind if I invited a few friends to meet you and Rin?

88-SmilesPerHour: Sure!

88-SmilesPerHour: I mean, I’m cool with it, Rin just kind of shrugged.

88-SmilesPerHour: See you there!  [ADDRESS RECEIVED]

Yusuke checked the location, then swapped over to the Phantom Thieves chatroom.

Fox: I’ve just been invited to an athletic meet tomorrow.

Skull: What for?

Fox: As an observer.  A friend of my friend Rin is a sprinter and she is in town, taking part in qualifiers for a competition.

Fox: I’ve been invited, and I thought I should invite some of you, since at least Ann expressed interest in meeting Rin.  It’s at 1 pm.

Panther: I’m free by then, and I’d love to come.

Skull: This friend is a runner?  What’s she trying out for?

Fox: She’s a para-athlete, trying out for some of the more austere games being held in Tokyo.

Skull: A what-athlete?

Queen: A para-athlete is any athlete with a disability.  There are special programs all over Asia for them.

Fox: Makoto is correct, she has two prosthetic legs.

Skull: For real?!

Joker: Yusuke, how many double amputees do you know?

Fox: Just the two right now.  Rin previously attended a school for those with disabilities.  She and Ibarazaki-san met there before Rin transferred to Kosei.

Joker: I see.

Skull: A runner with no feet?  This I gotta see.

Panther: Ryuji!  Rude!

Skull: What, can’t a guy be curious?  I wanna see what’s different, and ask her about her training routine.  

Skull: It’s gotta be killer if she’s trying to qualify for nationals and beyond.

Panther: I guess… But please work on your tact around them.

Queen: Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline.  Akira and I are busy tomorrow.

Skull: Oh, with what?  A date ?

Joker: Yes.

Panther: What?!

Fox: I see.  It’s like that, is it?

Queen: It’s not like that!  We’re just pretending!

Panther: O_O

Skull: What the eff is goin on between you two?

Joker: Makoto is concerned about one of her classmate’s boyfriends, and is making plans to get closer and investigate his character.

Joker: Part of that involves a “double date.”  I’m her “boyfriend.”

Panther: That’s…very Makoto.

Fox: I agree.

Skull: Yeah, that all adds up.

Queen: Hey!

Joker: Don’t worry, honey.  It’ll be a great date. ;)

Queen: You’re not helping.

Panther: Have fun, you two love birds.

Queen: Enough!

Joker: We will.  Next trip to Futaba-chan’s pyramid is the day after next, so don’t have too much excitement out late after the track meet, kids.

Skull: Thanks, mom.

Joker: Morgana says Yusuke’s in charge.

Panther: As if!

The next day, Yusuke arrived at the stadium exterior alone, before meeting up with Ann and Ryuji.  It was not nearly as busy as it would be for a major event, but there was still a crowd.  Friends and family of the competitors, different organizations looking to recruit new athletes, and a minor press presence.  Yusuke was half-sure he saw the reporter that Akira occasionally visited in Shinjuku somewhere in the crowd.

"Anything we should know before we meet your friends?" Ann asked.

Yusuke contemplated.  Most likely there was quite a bit, but of things he could easily articulate?  "I've only met Ibarazaki-san briefly, but as for Rin, try to be patient with her," he said.  "She's…odd.  Don't be taken aback if she comes off a bit…blunt."

"Sure sounds like someone we know," Ryuji grinned.  Yusuke looked at him quizzically.  "Nevermind," Ryuji said.  They followed the instructions from Emi's message, and eventually spotted Emi frantically waving at Yusuke.

"Over here, Yusuke-kun!" she said.  She was dressed in a white jersey, with a large number tapped to the front, bike shorts, and a large jacket.  She was also wearing the prosthetic legs that Rin had depicted her wearing as a sketch, thick metal bars that curved backwards past the point a normal leg would, but still suggesting the shape of a human leg.  "I'm so glad you all could make it."

Rin was standing beside her, dressed in a polo shirt, and cargo pants with pockets all up and down the legs.  She looked Ann and Ryuji up and down, her face blank.  Yusuke introduced the parties to each other and Emi warmed to them immediately.

"So, how old do you have to be for these kinda competitions?" Ryuji asked, looking around.

"Most require you to be at least eighteen," Emi said.

"Wait, you're eighteen, Ibarazaki-san?" Ann asked.

Emi smiled.  "Please, just call me Emi.  And I'm actually nineteen."  Ann looked flabbergasted at the girl that was easily thirty centimeters shorter than her and was two years older than her.  "I'm a third-year at Yamaku.  Got held back because…" her grin turned sheepish as she reached down and rapped the plastic cover of her prosthetic with her knuckle.  "Surgery and physio kept me out of school for a while."

Ann winced.  "I'm sorry, that must have been hard.  My friend's in physical therapy right now and it looks so painful I can barely watch."

Emi shrugged, bouncing slightly.  "It's in the past.  Besides, today's a good day for me.  No twinges, no cramps, I'm good to go!"  She turned back to Ryuji.  "Why do you ask?  You a runner?"

Ryuji grinned lopsidedly. "Yeah, well sort of.  Got my leg broken about a year ago, and the track team got disbanded.  Been workin’ on tryin’ to run again, but I’ve been busy.”

“Where do you go to school?” Rin suddenly interjected.

“Oh, uh, Shujin Academy,” Ryuji answered.

“It’s over in Minato Ward,” Ann supplied.

“Huh.  I feel like I’ve heard that name recently,” Emi mused, hand to her chin.

“It’s where the Phantom Thieves started.  A teacher had a change of heart,” Rin said, still expressionless.

“Ah, that’s right Rin,” Emi said. “They also got that artist guy and the crime boss.  They’re all over the news now.”

The three thieves shared a brief look.  “Are you a fan of the Phantom Thieves, Rin-san?” Ryuji asked.

Rin shook her head.  “Chika is.  She talks a lot.”  They all waited for her to continue, but her gaze was locked on the stadium.  An announcement rang out, and Emi straightened up.

“That’s my event!  See you all in the stands!”  Emi said, before trotting off.

Yusuke's friends are weird.  The boy has an ugly tank-top and dyed hair, and he holds his legs wide. He jiggles his leg nervously.  The girl is tall and thin, but wide where it counts.  She has her hair up in twintails, and can talk and talk without saying anything, like a curvy Emi.  Someone mentions that she's one-quarter American.  All Rin can think of is that if she's what Emi would look like as a one-fourth American, she really wants to see the fully-American Emi. 

They all make their way through the stadium.  Emi promised it wouldn't be too crowded, and she was probably right, for her.  Even the anemic crowds of this event are too much for Rin.  She sticks close to Yusuke and his friends, and their maddeningly sympathetic looks.

"So Rin-san," the girl says.  At least it's not just 'Tezuka' like Sensei.  "Yusuke's told us you're an artist."

Oh good, this question again.  "I guess.  I'm going to an art school, so that must be true now."

"Any chance we could see some of your pieces?" she asks.

"Probably, If you want to come to the gallery in the spring," is all she can respond with. 

"My paintings suck so bad, but it'd be nice to see…" and Rin tunes her out.  The girl is so talkative, she'd be great to listen to while painting.  'White noise,' Hisao had called it once.  But here, trying to pay attention to Emi running, she's too much.  She has to turn this around.

"How did you two meet Yusuke?" she manages to slip in between the girl's babbling about still-lifes.  (Still-lifes are boring anyway.)

All three of them look at each other in a way Rin thinks she isn't supposed to notice.  The same way that they did when she talked about the Phantom Thieves.  (She doesn't much care about them, but it's most of what Chika talks about these days.  The Phantom Thieves, the Phansite, calling cards.)

"We got invited to a gallery that Yusuke was at," the girl says, a waver in her voice.

The boy grins.  "Yeah, and then Yusuke wanted Ann to model nude for him."  The girl slaps his arm while Yusuke quietly clears his throat, and they descend into friendly babble again.

Rin focuses on the field instead.  Oblong and wide, Emi's home turf.  She's lining up and stretching while chatting with the track captain from Yakamu, the brown girl with one hand.  Emi turns and waves to the group, and the three of them with arms wave back.  The rest of the people on the track are unfamiliar faces: a boy with only one foot missing, a girl with her whole arm missing, a person who's body is whole but communicates with their friend in sign language.

They all take their starting positions, and wait.  There's no starting pistol, like at Yakamu, presumably for the deaf people.  A large screen at the end of the stadium in front of them changes color, with a blaring sound from the speakers, and they are off.

"She's fast!" the girl says, exclaiming the obvious. Of course Emi is fast, that's why she's here.  Yusuke just makes a humming noise, more quietly impressed.

The boy is silent.  He's concentrating.  His face reminds her of her own face while focusing on something, the few times she's seen it in mirrors and pictures.  "She's got a weird form.  Prolly 'cause of her legs, she bounces and bounds way more with each step.  She's got pretty long strides for someone so short."

Rin focuses on the long, loping motion of her legs, the bounce in her twintails as she takes each step.  Emi has perfected her craft.  She is "the Fastest Thing on No Legs."  And Rin…

What has she perfected?

Emi finishes the race second, behind another girl with thick goggles on.  She does another event, and another, but Rin watches from a distance now, her mind instead now full of thoughts of perfection and nonperfection.  

Emi returns, they all cheer, for she has qualified for a big event.  She high fives everyone, and jumps and hugs Rin, despite the previous incident that resulted in a kick to Emi's midsection (Rin restrains herself this time.)  Rin smiles, because she should be happy.  You're supposed to be happy when your friend does something great; Emi was so happy when Rin had her gallery showing.

(Rin is happy.  She's pretty sure she's happy, anyway.  She has no reason not to be happy for Emi.)

The girl suggests eating lunch together, and Rin can almost hear Yusuke's stomach growl.  Emi gives him a very familiar look, the one she used to give Rin when Rin forgot to eat.  The runner boy suggests a ramen shop, and they all agree.  (Rin doesn't like ramen, it's too hard to eat without people staring.  She doesn't say anything.)

Emi excuses herself to take a quick shower, and then swap clothes and legs.

"I can see why you want to paint her running, Rin," Yusuke says.  "She's remarkable."  Rin nods, unable to think of anything else to say.  Emi returns, and they set off on the train.  Emi is her usual lively and bubbly self and she holds conversations well.  She chats with the runner boy about how running on her blades is different, how her momentum is more important.  She proves that the girl is her American doppelganger as they connect over sweets and pastries, with American Emi suggesting a crêpe stand in Shibuya.

The ramen shop is hot and humid.  As they all order, the runner boy realizes the trouble Rin will have with noodles.  He verbally trips all over himself apologizing, but the chef taking the order suggests gyoza instead of noodles.  Rin likes gyoza, so she agrees.

When it arrives, though, she finds the countertop too tall, the stool too short, the stares of the other people too judgmental.  American Emi offers to help her, once she notices that Rin hasn't eaten any of her gyoza.  Rin accepts, because she's very hungry.  Someone else feeding her…the last time that she had help like this was when he peeled an orange for her…or held the cigarette to her lips…

Eventually, the group disperses.  Rin and Yusuke return to Kosei, Emi heads back to her hotel, and the two others head off.  Rin returns to her room, and returns her attention to the picture of Hisao, trying to figure out how she should feel.

Rin messaged Yusuke a few days later, wanting to talk.  Yusuke said he would be available.  The Thieves were preparing to deliver Futaba's calling card, and Akira and Makoto were scouring the city's vending machines.

He arrived and knocked on the door, and was admitted after a slight delay.  Her room was still full of half-finished paintings, but the one of the boy was now front-and-center.  It was quite far along compared to what he had last seen.  The colors now showed his messy brown hair and his clothes in what he had learned was the Yamaku uniform: white dress shirt, black tie and green pants.  The scar-like marking on his chest was still visible straight through his shirt and tie, but ribbons of red now crawled out of it in all directions.  It was like the scar was bleeding, but gravity was reversed for the blood, so it spread across his chest, and then dripped upwards in large stripes once it reached his ribs and shoulders, dark red vertical lines cutting across the mottled black and blue background above his head.  His eyes looked away, not meeting the viewer, but with the added detail and shading, he looked tired.  Exhausted, even.

Rin sat on her bed, looking down at the tarp on the floor, set up to catch paint under the canvas.  Yusuke didn't quite know where to sit, so he sat on the stool in front of the canvas.  There was a long, long moment where neither spoke.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more friendly with your friends," Rin said.  She was tracing a circle on the ground with her toe.

Yusuke was taken aback.  Neither Ann nor Ryuji had expressed any discomfort with the day's events or Rin's presence.  "I thought it was a fine outing," he said.

"But I was difficult again," she said.  "I couldn't say the right things or laugh with all of the jokes."

"Those aren't faults, Rin.  That speaking with others or holding a conversation is difficult for you does not diminish yo-"

"It DOES though!" she exclaimed, in a burst of emotion Yusuke had never seen out of her.  "Don't say that it's okay.  It's wrong.  It's part of me that's missing…just like…”  She extended the stumps of her arms outward, drawing attention to them.  

Yusuke could almost feel his heart crack at her words.  "Rin…even if you feel that these are faults, none of it is your responsibility."  She looked away, her expression indicating that she did not really believe him.  They sat in silence for a moment, before she spoke again.

"I've never had hands," she said, her tone flat again. "I mean, a doctor told me I had them when I was born, but they were messed up and would've caused a lot of pain and other issues, so they cut them off when I was a baby.  So I don't remember ever having hands.  I wonder if that's why I can't think like other people.  Because they've all done something I can't."

Yusuke said nothing, and let her continue.  She motioned at the canvas, at the boy.  "He asked me once if it was hard being disabled.  I said that he would know better, but that was wrong.  I said it wrong."

"What was his name?" Yusuke asked.

She paused.  "Hisao.  He was a transfer student.  He helped me with my mural, and my gallery.  He was…a friend.  More than a friend, I think.  I told him he would know what being disabled was like better than me, but…But there's a difference.  Between being disabled and becoming disabled.  Emi had legs, and then she lost her legs and her dad.  She had walked before, so she just needed the surgery and therapy.  Hisao was always disabled he, just didn't know."

"What happened to him?"  Yusuke asked, doing his best to try and keep the conversation contained.  Rin seemed to be trying for the same thing.

"He had a heart thingy.  Has a heart thingy."  She paused, her eyes closed briefly.  "A-rrhyth-mi-a," she said, sounding out the word.  "He was always scared to say it.  His heartbeat was weird, like a bad marching band, and he would get heart attacks easy if he was under too much stress.  He had it his whole life, but avoided it up until he didn't.  So that's kind of like becoming disabled.  Both Emi and him had a life, and then it changed.  I've…I've only had this life.  I've only ever been me, and the more people I meet, the more I see, the more I know that this isn't enough."

Yusuke opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.  "People tell me that's not true, but I can feel it.  There's something wrong with me.  I need to find out what I'm good at, what I can do in spite of all that's wrong with me.  I need to be a real artist."

"Rin, you are a real artist," Yusuke said.  Was this what troubled her so?  These apprehensions?  These self doubts?  This imposter syndrome?

"No, not yet," she said.  "I need to find a way to reach people.  I can't talk right, I can't touch people.  I need to reach out with my art, to…" she trailed off.  Her eyes were red with worry.

"I'll help you as much as I can, Rin," Yusuke said, a very unwelcome image of Hitoshi-senpai rising in his mind.  "But you need to first realize that you are more than a sum of your disabilities and talents."  Rin did not respond.  They sat in silence.  Eventually, she stood up.

"I want to paint," she said.  Yusuke stood from the stool and allowed her to sit.  "Alone, please," she added.  His heart heavy with regret, Yusuke left her alone.

Several days later, Yusuke was lying awake in bed.  The Phantom Thieves had defeated Futaba's distorted cognition of her mother, the monstrous Sphinx of Wrath, and Futaba was recovering from the exceptional strain of awakening her Persona in her own Palace, as Morgana had explained.  The emotional journey they had taken learning what had happened to Futaba weighed heavy on them all.  Yusuke in particular could not stop thinking of the idea of a Palace not as a place of foul indulgence in forbidden desires, but a prison, a cage for a wounded heart, where one’s trauma would fester and grow.

A dark thought crossed Yusuke's mind.  He felt his hand grope for his phone on the nightstand.  He was still trying to suppress the thought when he tapped the red and black icon and opened up the Metanav.  It chimed that it was ready to search the Metaverse for a Shadow, and Yusuke paused for a very long moment.  After what must have been several minutes staring into the screen that awaited his input, he spoke a name into the darkness.

"Rin Tezuka."

The app chimed.  "Candidate found."

Yusuke's heart caught in his throat. 

Oh no.

Chapter Text

Yusuke arrived early the next day at Leblanc.  Sojiro greeted him in the otherwise deserted café, and asked him if he was feeling well, and he lied that he felt fine.  In truth, Yusuke had not gotten much sleep. After searching Rin's name, he began furiously typing in possible destinations for Rin’s Shadow.  He quickly identified that Rin did not possess a full-blown Palace, as he tried the keyword “Mementos” and was rewarded with a full Metaverse ‘address’ of her Shadow.

Yusuke pondered what to do with this new information for several hours that night.  Rin’s mental health was obviously suffering, but was a change of heart needed, or even appropriate to consider?  Was this a violation of privacy?  What was her Shadow doing that deep in Mementos?  These thoughts chased each other around Yusuke’s head before he finally silenced them.  He’d consult with Akira about what to do.

He texted Akira early, asking to meet with him that day, and Akira agreed.  He nervously grabbed his bag full of his Metaverse supplies on the way out, wondering if he would need it.  When he climbed the stairs in Leblanc, Akira was still in his pajamas, but was sitting on the bedside, checking his phone, while Morgana was perched at the end of the bed.

“Thank you for seeing me at such an early hour, Akira,” Yusuke apologized as he pulled up the chair from Akira’s desk.

“Your text implied this was pretty serious, Yusuke," Akira said, swiping a bit of sleep dust out of his eye.  "Would you like to speak alone?"

"I would actually prefer Morgana be here," he replied.  "This is a Metaverse matter, and his expertise would be invaluable." 

Morgana perked up, looking surprised.  "What do you need help with, Yusuke?"

"Do you recall me speaking of my friend, Rin?"

Akira thought for a moment, before a look of comprehension crossed his face.  "Ah, the girl at your school?  The one people thought was your 'girlfriend'?"

Yusuke nodded.  "The same.  She's a third-year art major, under quite a bit of pressure to succeed for a gallery showing in the spring.  As I've spoken with her she's become...distant, and said some very odd things."  Yusuke rubbed his hands together, then continued.  "After everything we saw in Futaba-chan's Palace, I couldn't stop thinking about how trauma might  be the animating force behind a Shadow and, well…"

Yusuke withdrew his phone and opened the MetaNav, showing his most recent search result to his leader and the cat.

Rin Tezuka / Mementos / Path of Kaitul

Morgana's blue eyes widened, and Akira's gray ones narrowed.  "We just gained access to Kaitul recently," Akira said.

"I have no idea why her Shadow is so deeply situated, or what that even means," Yusuke admitted.  "I don't want to change her heart, but I do feel like I should do something with this information."

Morgana scratched behind his ear, then spoke up.  "The relationship between the depth of a Shadow's location and their distortion is tricky.  There are those with distortions stronger than Kamoshida or Madarame, but without a certain location to latch onto, their Shadow cannot form a Palace.  I think…"

Akira propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in thought.  "We don't change hearts without unanimous consent… but perhaps speaking with her Shadow may prove fruitful, especially if she has trouble communicating her thoughts, as you mentioned."  Yusuke wasn't sure if he should be relieved, excited or nervous about speaking with Rin's repressed self. 

"That seems like a reasonable compromise," Morgana said. "We can gather more information, see if this is a situation meant for the Phantom Thieves, or something to be handled in the real world, like Mishima's Shadow."  The manager of the Phansite that collated requests had become quite hostile recently, and after investigating and speaking with his Shadow, Akira had judged that a change of heart was not necessary, but simply talking to him the real world would have better results.  “It’s something to do while we wait for Futaba to recover.”

Akira hummed an affirmation.  "I don't think we need to assemble the entire team for this, but I don't like entering the Metaverse with less than a full front line.  Do you want to call someone to come with us, seeing as you know Tezuka-san the best?"

Yusuke mulled over the problem.  He agreed that a quick jaunt down to Mementos, not even intending to fight a person's Shadow probably didn't require the whole team, but he also agreed that just the three of them felt slightly unsafe.  Who would be the best for this expedition?  (Yusuke privately wondered if this is what Akira felt like every time he picked who would be on the front line in a Palace infiltration.)

"Ann," Yusuke eventually said.  "She and Ryuji met Rin, but Ryuji's a bit too…loud for this, I think."

Akira smirked slightly and Morgana snickered. "Fair enough," Akira said.  "I'll see if she's free. Then, off to speak with your friend's Shadow."

Mementos felt even more oppressive than usual.  The rumble of the Monavan as they traveled down the train tracks did not feel as comforting or fun as it usually did in their expeditions, and they had not spotted the friendly Jose on their journey.  Ann made idle chatter with Akira and Morgana as much as she could, but Yusuke could not shake the feeling of dread in the back of his mind.

Eventually, Morgana located the corner of Mementos where Rin's Shadow was sequestered.  The van leapt through the swirling red vortex of train tracks and twisted metal, and landed on the other side.  They emptied out of the van, and Morgana transformed back from his vehicle form.

Morgana had explained once that if you knew what to look for, you could see the seeds of a Palace in these Mementos pockets that formed around distorted Shadows.  The Thieves had described a few instances, such as the faint, shadowy silhouettes of cats that had surrounded the disturbed cat-napper that they had fought before Yusuke joined.  Makoto had pointed out the medical and laboratory equipment that was woven into the walls of the room where they had confronted the Shadow of the odious physician that had menaced Dr. Takemi.

Yusuke couldn't determine anything from what he saw in the scenery.  There were orange and brown shards and bits of metal dotting the walls and floor, and the walls themselves had an odd, grid-like texture to them.  At the far end of the space, a stool had grown out of the floor with dark swirls surrounding the base, as a familiar figure sat atop it, looking away from them.

"That's her alright," said Akira, checking the MetaNav.  "Signal indicates we're in the right place."

"I still can't believe Rin-san has a Shadow," Ann said, glancing around at the room.  "She seemed shy and a little anti-social...but it didn't seem nearly so..."

"So dire?" Yusuke completed and Ann nodded.  It had come as a shock to him as well, but knowing what Rin actually thought was largely a guessing game.

"Okay Fox, this is your mission, how do you want to handle this?" Akira asked.  "Should we hang back, or all try and speak with her?"

Yusuke watched the distant figure seated on the stool.  It was turned away from them, oblivious to their conversation.  "I'll speak to her.  But please, remain nearby so you can hear.  I will need all of your input on this matter.  If you think of something helpful, don't hesitate to speak up."  The others nodded, and they approached the far side of the room. 

Shadow Rin was dressed in an outfit Yusuke had never seen Rin in; it was a set of denim overalls, stained with paint.  She had an old dress shirt underneath the overalls, each of the long sleeves tied in knots just past where her arms ended, and left to dangle.  Her hair was messier than he'd ever seen it in the real world, and the hunch in her neck and shoulders seemed even more pronounced than her real-world counterpart.

"Rin?" Yusuke called.

She turned and looked over her shoulder at him, and Yusuke was unprepared for her eyes.  Logically, he had known that she would share the same piercing, yellow eyes as every other Shadow they had met, but to actually see them on his friend was another matter.  There was an emptiness in her eyes; the real Rin's emerald eyes looked like there was a deep well and endless depths behind them, Shadow Rin had a yellow void behind her eyes.

"Why are you here?"  the Shadow asked, her distorted voice somehow flatter than the real Rin's.

"We're concerned about you, Rin," Yusuke said. "Your heart's become distorted, and I want to know why."

"My heart's always been distorted, it's because I'm broken," Shadow Rin responded.  "I'm not a person who is normal, I can't be normal.  But if I can be a real artist, I can be just as good as normal.  I can reach people. "  She looked around at each of the Thieves. " And someone will tell me what I've always wanted to hear and they will mean it.  What he didn't say.  I just have to ignore the jellyfish and the clouds.  If I can clear the junk, make the snakes and eyes and faces go away, then… " Her method of speech was intense, there was a viciousness to her that the real Rin lacked, but when she trailed off like that Yusuke saw his friend again, vulnerable and afraid.  "Then I will be complete. "

The Thieves glanced at each other, baffled.  Morgana stepped forward.  “What’s so great about being normal?”

“It would hurt less,” Shadow Rin responded. “Every time I forget about an invitation, or make a joke no one gets, or they look at me like I’m a mistake, it hurts.  I know I’m supposed to want to be with people and show my work to all of Sensei’s friends, but it always hurts when I do.”

Ann cleared her throat, and spoke up.  “Why are you so convinced that you can't be normal?”

Shadow Rin shrugged.  “I've tried.  I never say the right thing, I never laugh when I'm supposed to or make the right expression.” She turned and stared right into Ann’s eyes. “And I can’t take being stared at any more.  I try to pretend like it doesn’t bother me, like I don’t notice but I do.  It’ll be easier, if I can just make myself be normal.  It won’t bother me.  It’ll be hard, but it will be worth it.  It has to be.”

Ann winced at her words.  They seemed to have struck a chord with her, because she turned away from the Shadow.  

Akira spoke up.  “Who is ‘he’?”

“Hisao,” the Shadow replied. “I thought he would be the one, be my key to peace.  But he showed me that I should be happy, that I’m the kind of person who can belong only to themselves.  He loved me, I think.  But I’m not good enough to love someone.  I need to be the kind of person who can belong to someone else.  To be clear, like glass.”

Yusuke felt a lump forming in his throat.  That his talented and hard-working senpai thought so little of herself was heart-breaking, but he couldn’t find the obvious words to refute it.  Is this what it was like to be Rin, he wondered.  To never be able to say what you wanted?  Her anxieties began to make more sense to Yusuke in that context.

Yusuke felt a slight rumble beneath his feet, and the other Thieves shifted, feeling it too.  “I need to be alone to work,” Shadow Rin said, and her form began to darken.  

Yusuke felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a chill shot down his spine.  “We were just leaving, Rin.”  They all sprinted back into the maze of Mementos before the Shadow could transform.

Back in a rest stop by the railway, on one of the empty “safe” floors, the Thieves reconvened.  

“Well, that was definitely different from other targets we’ve gone after,” Ann said, slouching in her chair.

“It’s plain that she’s in a very dark place, mentally,” Akira said. “But I still don’t know what should be done.”

Yusuke had taken his mask off to pinch the bridge of his nose, in an attempt to compose himself.  “Her mental health is poor, there’s no question about that, but it does not seem to be on the level of Futaba, I agree.  It’s these constant references to becoming someone else, by force if necessary that concern me.  How could that relate to the real Rin?”  Yusuke turned to Morgana, their expert on Shadow behavior.

Morgana folded his arms and shook his head. “The behavior of a Shadow is a window into the real person’s mental state, but that window is never perfectly clear.  Without real-world actions to back it up, a Shadow’s words are just a person’s thoughts, and they can be just as fleeting and immaterial as any thought can be.  I don’t think we heard anything that merits a change of heart, certainly not one without a request.”

“I don’t think we’re qualified to help Rin with whatever she’s going through, at least not with the Metaverse,” Akira said. “Real world avenues might be easier, like a therapist.”  After Yusuke’s expeditions around Tokyo to the park and church, he’d learned to trust Akira’s judgment.

Ann perked up.  “Oh, like Dr. Maruki!”  Then, noticing Yusuke’s blank look, she added, “He’s a counselor at Shujin, we’ve each been to see him.  He’s very easy to talk to.”

A counselor? Yusuke thought. Perhaps I should seek him out, see if he would be a good fit for Rin…

“Regardless, I think you should keep an eye on Rin, let us know if her behavior changes and you think we should get involved,” Akira said.  “For now, we’ve reached the limit of what the Phantom Thieves can do.”

Yusuke hated to admit it, but Akira was right.  “I will attempt to help her in the real world, then.”

“Check the Nav every once in a while, though,” Ann added as they stood up to leave Mementos. “If her Shadow moves deeper, we should investigate why.”

The next few weeks were a blur, with Futaba finally awakening long enough to deal with Medjed, then awkwardly joining the Phantom Thieves.  Then, their plan to rehabilitate Futaba’s social ability and the planned beach trip right before the end of summer break took even more time and attention.  Yusuke checked in on Rin, but she had started a new piece, one of a girl with long blond hair in a ponytail, and light blue butterflies flying out of her blank, blue eyes.  She wanted to be alone to work, but Yusuke tried to keep an eye on her while taking notes from their expeditions and explorations with the socially-stunted Futaba.

Before he knew it, the new school semester had started, and they were all promptly faced with a school trip, Shujin to Hawaii, and Kosei to Los Angeles.  It was a dizzying opportunity, and he was delighted to know that Rin would be attending too.  Apparently, third-year scholarship students could chose whatever trip they wanted to attend.

“Chika’s going, and she wanted me to come with her,” Rin said at one of their lunches.

Seeing her constantly downtrodden face and remembering the words of her Shadow made interacting with Rin difficult for Yusuke now.  He had no idea how much of what the Shadow had said was real, and how much was repressed.  But the Shadow had mentioned someone else at Yamaku…  Yusuke needed more information, and he had a feeling he knew just where to go for it.

TokyoDaVinci: Hello, Futaba.  I need some technological assistance.

Alibaba: always happy to help the technically challenged

Alibaba: most of the time ;)

Alibaba: whats up inari?

TokyoDaVinci: Outside of working on the information from Makoto’s sister’s computer, will you have time to work on anything else while we’re on our trips?

Alibaba: oh, plenty.  its a lot of waiting for the decryption, and occasionally choosing different decoder keys

Alibaba: i can multitask

Alibaba: why?

TokyoDaVinci: I’m attempting to help a classmate, but details about her past are not forthcoming.

TokyoDaVinci: I was wondering if you could look into someone, find out what happened to them.

Alibaba: wow, thats super vague ._.

Alibaba: but probably

Alibaba: depends on how much information i have to go on

TokyoDaVinci: I’m looking to see what happened between my friend Rin Tezuka and another student named Hisao, while they attended Yamaku Academy, which is located to the north, in Sendai.

Alibaba: thats plenty!

Alibaba: im busy atm but i should have a report ready for you when you all get back from your fancy school trips

TokyoDaVinci: Thank you, Futaba.

Alibaba: have fun in LA, make sure the gangs dont getcha

TokyoDaVinci: What?

Alibaba: nvm

With that task delegated, Yusuke began to pack for his trip to Los Angeles.

Chapter Text

Hawaii is not what Rin expected, in every sense of the phrase.

They were supposed to go to Los Angeles, but some kind of storm has canceled the connecting flight, leaving them in Hawaii.  Rin only chose to attend the Los Angeles trip due to persistent nagging from Chika, and now they are stuck taking their school trip somewhere completely unrelated.

(Rin doesn't actually mind.  To her, a trip is a trip is a trip, but Chika's annoyance is rubbing off on her.)

"We had plans, we packed for an urban outing, not a tropical retreat!" she complains to a captive Rin and whoever else will listen, as they all mull about in the hotel lobby.  She seems to be in the minority, most of the second-years are happy to have a shorter flight and a three-ish day beach vacation.  There's another school who had their trip in Hawaii, the students are also gathered in the lobby, their plaid pants and skirts oddly familiar...

"You should talk to your parents, Rin.  See if the school will compensate them for this," Chika chatters on as she checks her phone.

Chika is an okay friend, if a little shallow.  She reminds Rin of the Yamaku student council president, in a way; her dark hair cut short and neatly cropped, her sharp eyes hiding behind glasses that she adjusts often, the way she seems to butt in on other's business like it's natural.  She's thicker and heavier than the old student council president though, at least by Rin's reckoning, and her voice is only slightly grating, unlike Snaps who always had Misha following her around, talking and laughing too loudly.

"It's fine," Rin responds, trying to force herself into 'normal' conversation.  "The beach will be fun.  There's a lot of things to look at in Hawaii."

Chika rolls her eyes.  "You're too easy-going, Rin.  You can bet there'll be an article written about this mismanagement."  As head of the school newspaper club, she often talks about what will get an article and what will not.  She’s even asked to show several of Rin's paintings in the Arts section, and often bounced article ideas off Rin.  "Maybe we can get a nice photo of the beaches."

"The beaches here are pretty famous," says a stranger.  They both turn to see a boy from the other school, awkwardly trying to enter their conversation.  He's dressed in a white polo shirt and the red and black plaid pants, with his dark hair very spiky.  Beyond that, he looks unremarkable.  Boring, even, like a background character in a busy painting.

(Rin notices the way his eyes flick down to where her arms should be and wince.  It's a very familiar reaction, one she almost doesn't care about anymore.)  

(Almost.)

There is a very, very long pause.

"Um...S-sorry," the boy stammers.  "I just noticed...I wanted to ask...are you a fan of the Phantom Thieves?" He gestures to Chika's phone-charm of their top hat logo.

In an instant, Chika's face changes from skeptical to enthused.  "Oh-Em-Gee!  You're a fan too?"  She hops up from her bench where the two of them are waiting for the crowd to clear.  "Wait a minute, you're a Shujin student," she says, gesturing to the emblem on his shirt and his patterned pants.  "Were you there during their first heist?  What's your name?  I'm Chika Bunmaru."

Nothing animates Chika like talk of the Phantom Thieves.  Rin has learned so much about them against her will from Chika's rambling.

The boy's look shifts from awkward to self-satisfied.  "I'm Yuuki Mishima," he responds, and Rin begins to tune out their babble in mental self-defense.  She gazes out at the crowd, and spots a familiar figure near the lobby edge.

Yusuke is speaking with a group of Shujin students.  Rin recognizes runner boy and American Emi, but there are two new ones.  A stern, strong-looking girl with short brown hair, and boy with curly black hair and large glasses, holding his hands in his pockets.  Something about the boy is faintly familiar to Rin.  There's something about the contradictory way he stands with both confidence and like he doesn't want to draw attention.  It feels like part of her has met him already, but she's also uncharacteristically sure this is the first time she's ever seen him.

Faintly, Rin realizes that it's quieter than it was a moment ago.  She looks away from Yusuke to realize that Chika and the Phanboy have wandered off together, excitedly chatting about the Phantom Thieves and lunch plans.  Rin briefly considers calling out to her, but some time away from Chika will probably make her head hurt less.  They both have room keys to their room, it should be fine.

Rin looks down at the white plastic card hanging off of her sleeve.  It's attached by one of those retractable cords and little clips, and it's the kind that can just be waved in front of the lock to open it.  (Chika was insistent that the hotel staff find a way to accommodate Rin, and the one hotel employee who spoke Japanese was sufficiently flustered by accusations of ableism to get the special key for her.)

(Rin wants to be grateful to Chika for standing up for her, but the amount of attention that she attracts while being indignant on her behalf always makes Rin uncomfortable.)

Several minutes later, Rin believes she may have miscalculated.  She'd been left with her own duffle bag, and Chika's two rolling bags, which she has almost no way of moving them other than kicking and pushing them.  She's just beginning to wonder if she should try and pop the handle up with her feet when someone speaks.

"Um, do you need any help?" asks a gentle voice.  It's a girl in a Kosei uniform.  She's tall and has long, straight, pretty brown hair, and sharp facial features.  There's a woven decoration that reminds Rin of a red clover, or maybe the clubs from a set of playing cards in her hair.  

Rin looks up at her blankly.  "I would not refuse any help," she says, unable to directly accept the aid she needs.

"Okay," the girl says, her voice quiet as she extends the handles on each of Chika’s rolling suitcases.  "I'm Hifumi Togo."

There's another awkward pause.  Rin knows she should respond, but all she can think is what a pretty name 'Hifumi' is.  Hi-fu-mi; one, two, three.  The name makes sense.

"What's your name?" she asks, after a moment.

"Rin," she says.

"Nice to meet you, Rin," Hifumi says as they make their way to the elevator.  Once inside, she looks at Rin expectantly, her hand hovering near the floor buttons.  "Where are we going?"

"Where are we going?" Rin returns, still wondering about that, her mind mostly preoccupied with this new girl.  With her long, straight hair and her very soft voice, she reminds Rin of Lily's friend, the burned girl.  Hifumi doesn't seem likely to run and hide at the slightest sound, but she still has the burned girl's gentleness.

Rin hopes that she's doing well at Yamaku, recovering from whatever scarred her.

Hifumi looks confused, then reframes her question.  "What room are you staying in?"

Oh, that's what she meant.  "Room 514," Rin says.

Hifumi presses the button labeled '5' and the doors slid shut.  The elevator ride is uneventful.  Rin knows she should say something, socialize, speak with this helpful girl, but Rin only wants to talk about the texture of the crabs on the beach and how the colors and sounds of the sunset will be different from Japan, and experience has taught her that these are not thing to talk about with a near-stranger.

No, stop being Rin, she thinks to herself.  Be normal, be safe.

"How is your day going?" Rin finally asks.  There, that's normal.

"Well, but the flight being canceled has certainly been... an ordeal," Hifumi responds.

"Were you looking forward to Los Angeles?" Rin asks.

"There were a few sites and venues I was looking forward to," Hifumi admits.  "But the sudden change of plans is sort of exciting, in its own way.  There's all sorts of things to discover in Hawaii."

It's a nice sentiment.  Agreeable.  Perhaps conversing with people is easier than she imagined... she just has to suppress every natural instinct and say as little as possible, never saying what she is truly thinking, for fear of rejection or incomprehension...

Rin suddenly does not think conversing with people will be quite so easy.

They arrive at the fifth floor and make their way to Rin's room.  Hifumi watches as she dangles the keycard in front of the lock until it beeps and opens.  Hifumi wheels in Chika's bags behind her, leaving them beside the bed Rin does not sit down on.

"Do you need help with anything else?" Hifumi asks.

"Lot of things, but you've done enough," Rin says.  Then, remembering one of Emi's lessons, she adds "Thank you Hifumi."

She bows slightly.  "It was nice meeting you, Rin."  and she exits the room, closing the door. 

Leaving Rin alone with her thoughts.

She wants to understand more people, so maybe they can understand her.  Each time she pretends to be normal, like the elevator ride, or when she has to talk to Sensei's art friends, it's both rewarding and exhausting.  Inventing an imitation of other's emotions, acting like she thinks like other people is a tiny thrill.  It's a game of make-believe, pretending to be normal.  And if she plays it well enough, she can almost feel a connection.

Almost.

But there are other times when it doesn't work. Sometimes when she puts on the mask, when she adopts that persona, it feels just a little bit like dying.  It feels like she's hollowing out herself to become someone else.  Something else.

Maybe it's like that for everyone.  Everyone is just pretending to be a real person, all of them are just better at it than Rin.  An entire planet of fake people, mostly fooling each other.

"All people are alone. We just use each other to alleviate that loneliness."

It is not as comforting an idea as she had imagined it would be.

Rin leans back on the bed, almost ignoring the tear that leaks out of the corner of her eye.

The change in destination was a minor disappointment to Yusuke, but he worked to make the most of it.  At the very least, he had his Phantom Thief friends to keep him company. 

He caught glimpses of Rin throughout the trip, as she wandered around Hawaii with her friend Chika or chatted with the famous Shogi player and fellow Kosei student, Hifumi Togo.  Yusuke idly wondered when they had met.

They met up for lunch one day, but Rin was quiet.  She never seemed comfortable eating in public.

On the last day of the trip, he spotted her in the gift shop, while they were all shopping for souvenirs and Akira was speaking with his gymnast friend Kasumi.  She was eyeing several of the plastic tiki masks on a rack.

"Hey, Tezuka-san!" Ann said, as she stepped up beside her.  "Thinking about a mask souvenir?"

Yusuke moved behind her to monitor the situation.

There was something complicated happening behind Rin's bottle-green eyes.  She was silent after Ann asked, but it wasn't her usual silence.  Something seemed... off.

"I am thinking about a mask souvenir," she said, her tone mirroring Ann's in an odd way.

"Well, you want to pick it up?  I can grab it for you," she responded.

Again, the odd pause.  "That would be nice.  Thank you."  Her voice was different from her usual flat affect.  Yusuke struggled to describe to himself what was different, he could only tell that something was different.

Ann was in too high spirits with the shopping to notice the plastic smile that spread across Rin's face.  She followed Ann to the counter, accepted a bag for the mask and let it be looped over her shoulder, then said formal goodbyes with Ann and left the store.

With a quiet dread, Yusuke realized what was so wrong with Rin.

It's like she's not even there.

The trip had ended, and Yusuke had arrived back in his room at Kosei when his phone buzzed.  He checked his chat and saw a message from Futaba.

Alibaba: so i saw your flight got back in before everyone elses, you free?

TokyoDaVinci: I'm not occupied at the moment, no.

Alibaba: terrific

Alibaba: so i got the low-down on your friend and her friend

Alibaba: tbh, this was way more effort than I thought it would be to piece this whole story together, so you better listen up

TokyoDaVinci: I apologize, Futaba.  I didn't mean to place additional work on your plate.

Alibaba: nah, its cool; its was fun to be Futaba Sakura, ACE☆DETECTIVE

Alibaba: anyway, you know most about your girl Rin, so here's the story of Hisao Nakai

Alibaba: born in a town in Hokkaido, from what i found he was a normal, boring kid.  high marks in science class, but nothing remarkable

Alibaba: then, late in his first year of high school, he had a heart attack and is diagnosed with arrhythmia

Alibaba: checked social media from around that time, its very dramatic

Alibaba: apparently, his high school crush confessed her love  to him in the snow like some cheesy VN, and it made his heart skip a beat

Alibaba: literally

TokyoDaVinci: That...is very dramatic.

Alibaba: fr fr

Alibaba: it gets pretty depressing here, as he had an EXTENDED hospital stay between surgeries on his heart

Alibaba: apparently, its a miracle that he survived that long with a condition that serious undiagnosed, and the medical records say that there were serious complications that needed to be watched for as he recovered

Alibaba: at first, all his classmates and his crush visit him often and supported him, but he was in the hospital so long that the sympathy dried up

Alibaba: from the report they kind of...abandoned him after a few months

Alibaba: psych report says he was pretty severely depressed at this point, so maybe he wasn't great company or fun to be around but still

TokyoDaVinci: Futaba.

TokyoDaVinci: How did you...get this information?

Alibaba: ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

TokyoDaVinci: Did you...hack into the hospital's patient records?

Alibaba: you really want to know the answer to that, inari? -3-

TokyoDaVinci: ...No, not really.  Carry on.

Alibaba: anywho, Hisao eventually gets discharged with a whole host of new prescriptions, and is transferred to "Yamaku Academy for the Disadvantaged"

Alibaba: a school in Sendai that specializes in supporting students with disabilities

Alibaba: the trail goes a little cold, as his social media use trails off significantly after his hospital stay

Alibaba: fortunately!  the resident nurse at Yamaku keeps really thorough notes on all students, medical and general

TokyoDaVinci: This feels less illegal than hacking a hospital, but more immoral somehow.

Alibaba: ehh, don't worry about it

Alibaba: no reason to stop now

TokyoDaVinci: Continue, then.

Alibaba: the staff is aware of his depression when he arrives, and try to get him to socialize

Alibaba: Hisao ignores most of the social anchors the teachers and staff try to nudge him towards, but he does eventually make the friend of our other principal actor in this play:

Alibaba: Rin Tezuka

TokyoDaVinci: I see.

Alibaba: the nurse's notes on Rin are super interesting

Alibaba: severe birth defect led to the amputation of both of her arms as an infant, and subsequently she's been in every special-care program imaginable since

Alibaba: Yamaku was just the latest

Alibaba: also, her "social oddities"

Alibaba: her parents specifically avoided ever having her diagnosed when it was brought up, but it's pretty clear to everyone that there's something up with her beyond just no arms

TokyoDaVinci: A mental disorder?  

Alibaba: no official diagnosis, but yeah

Alibaba: the nurse speculates either some form of autism or alexithymia, but admits in his notes that it's all armchair theories

TokyoDaVinci: And they avoided having her see a specialist?  Why?

Alibaba: well probably because of the **stigma**

Alibaba: mental illnesses and other conditions are super looked down upon, especially in japan

TokyoDaVinci: I am aware of such prejudices, but still...

Alibaba: trust me, as a grade A undiagnosed neurodivergent who's done a lot of research on this myself, avoiding an official diagnosis isn't uncommon

Alibaba: pretty sure Sojiro hasn't taken me to anyone yet because if his adopted daughter is suddenly diagnosed with *mental illness* it'll tank his chances of keeping custody of me if something happens.

Alibaba: (also i locked myself in my room when he did bring someone so...)

Alibaba: a lot of parents either refused to believe it, or just think it'll be better to deal with it without professional support

Alibaba: anything to avoid an 'abnormal' label

TokyoDaVinci: This is all beginning to make a tragic amount of sense.

Alibaba: yeah -_-

Alibaba: from what i can gather, Rin's parents know the deck is already stacked against her

Alibaba: and they don't think that professional diagnosis and assistance would help as much as having the label on her would hurt her chances

Alibaba: which is messed up because that should be her call but w/e

Alibaba: anyway, Hisao and Rin started hanging out while she was working on a mural for a school festival

Alibaba: the nurse noted that she seemed quite taken by him, even if she couldn't see it

Alibaba: and Hisao seemed to be coming out of his depression around her

Alibaba: but the Yamaku art teacher set up an a big showing for a Rin's pieces at a local art gallery

TokyoDaVinci: Nomiya?

Alibaba: uhh...yeah 

TokyoDaVinci: We've met.  He visited Rin.

Alibaba: right, so Rin moved into the studio above the art gallery to focus on making pieces for the show, and Hisao visited her occasionally

Alibaba: this is where information get real scarce, but it seems isolation and expectations took a real toll on Rin's mental health

Alibaba: the show eventually came, and Rin collapsed in the middle of it, overwhelmed

Alibaba: the article i found about it said that she was helped outside for some fresh air by a 'Yamaku student" who im gonna guess is Hisao

Alibaba: when they returned, Rin answered a few questions before the gallery owner stepped in and dispersed the crowd

Alibaba: side note: this article is super gross, it goes on and on about how inspiring it is to see a "crippled" artist present at such a popular venue

Alibaba: its like, dripping with backhanded praise

Alibaba: and its so ableist im almost offended by proxy

TokyoDaVinci: How repulsive.

Alibaba: im not super clear on what happened, but Hisao and Rin seemed to drift apart after that, culminating in Rin accepting Nomiya's offer of a scholarship at Kosei

Alibaba: where it seems you met her

TokyoDaVinci: Yes.  What of Hisao, is he still at Yamaku?

Alibaba: yeah, he's still attending

Alibaba: record show his social situation has continued to spread out to be better acquainted with other students, but he's still real hung up on Rin

Alibaba: according to a note from the nurse he "he wonders what he said wrong to drive her away"

Alibaba: all in all, very tragic stuff

TokyoDaVinci: I agree.

Alibaba: so, whach gonna do about it?

TokyoDaVinci: I'll try to see what about that night upset Rin, if anything.  Perhaps see if she can tell me with her art, since that is much easier for her.

TokyoDaVinci: I don't know what an ideal future looks like for Rin, but I want to help her reach it.

Chapter Text

Once the entire messy incident with the argument between Morgana and Ryuji was resolved, the Phantom Thieves began their infiltration of their latest Palace.  With their target being Kunikazu Okumura and their newest team member being his daughter, Haru Okumura, it felt like they were treading very personal ground as they had with Futaba’s palace and well… with Yusuke helping them with Madarame.

Meanwhile, Rin was trapped in a creative rut.  She was trying to paint more of her Yamaku classmates, but each attempt she began abruptly ended as she painted over it and started over.  After the seventh time, the canvas was unusable.

“Perhaps you should put this classmate project on hold,” Yusuke said, as he replaced the canvas for her.  “Maybe you might return to your original style, or the abstracts you were trying when we met?”

Rin stared into the blank canvas.  It seemed like there was a massive internal debate raging in her head, before she sighed quietly.  "Sure," she said.

She seemed to relax as she settled in and began to paint whatever came to her mind once more, but she still seemed...frustrated.  When she had painted her abstracts back in April and May, she had seemed empty, zen-like.  Now she looked dissatisfied with the work as effortlessly conjured twisted faces, distended limbs and snake-like creatures that reminded Yusuke of Picasso's middle period. 

Yusuke wasn't sure if she had always looked like that and he had not noticed, or if this darker mood around her work was new.  Speaking with Rin's Shadow had changed his view of her drastically.  He heard and remembered the anxieties and frustrations the Shadow had spoken of in every look Rin gave her art and Yusuke.

Knowing this much more about a person's inner thoughts made speaking with them a delicate balancing act, and it was not one that Yusuke walked well.  Several times he accidentally used a turn of phrase that Shadow Rin had said, and Rin would stare at him, presumably wondering exactly how he had voiced her thoughts aloud.  Yusuke mentally kicked himself every time, but wondered if this might be a way to grow closer and find a way to reach her.

Rin's third return to form painting did not return to form, quite as such.  She had expressed what Yusuke interpreted as boredom with her old style, and began to paint a large face that was not a face: floating facial features that vaguely reminded Yusuke of the monstrous 'Azazel' form that Shadow Madarame had taken.  The eyes were wide and round, bloodshot with pinprick pupils and wispy, gray eyebrows.  The nose was not a nose but what looked like a golden cup, floating between the eyes where a nose would be on a face.  The mouth was instead a black silhouette of the Tokyo skyline, backlit in red.  The inversely curved skyline resembled the jagged, toothy grin of a cruel god, and the slight shape of chains that Rin added in the corners to frame the image and make it look more like a face did not lighten the mood.  At the very top, above the eyes, there were four dark figures in a row, equidistant from each other, but they were so small details were impossible to make out.

Rin usually did not respond to what her inspiration was, but Yusuke had to ask.

"This piece is quite different, Rin," he said as she was working on a line of the chains that looped away from the edge, suggesting sunken cheeks on the face.  "What inspired you?"

"It was..." Rin faltered.  She removed her brush and looked at the painting, and Yusuke thought she might be looking at it for the first time, with the way her eyes swept over the expanse of the canvas.

"It was a dream I had," she said, peering up at the bloodshot eyes.

"What happened in this dream?" Yusuke asked further, staring at the golden chalice that was exactly in the center frame.  It looked...Sacred.  Holy, even.

Rin shook her head, rust-colored hair fluttering.  "This happened."  She gestured at the canvas with her leg, at the surreal collection of not-quite facial features.

"I don't understand," Yusuke said.

"Neither do I," Rin responded.

Safe room breaks had become quite lively with how much larger the Phantom Thieves had grown as a group.  Now with Futaba and Haru, they almost had two entire teams.  The safe rooms in Okumura's Palace were cold and sterile like the rest of his space station, but at least the Thieves brought a bit of warmth as they chatted for ten minutes at a time.  The space station was massive and the puzzles laborious, so they made frequent stops.

In their latest stop, they found themselves chatting about some of the more exceptional Shadows they had run across in Mementos.

"That phony psychic was something else," Ann said, munching on the onion rings that Akira had picked up as part of winning a contest at Big Bang Burger the previous day.  "Total cult creep."

"I hear you, but that catnapper still sticks with me," Akira countered, sipping a Nastea.  "Delusional and distorted, not a pretty combination.

The four who had been around when they fought that Shadow nodded, leaving the other four in the dark.

"Speaking of weird Shadows," Futaba piped up from her corner, "Fox, how's Rin's Shadow doing?"

The room fell silent as many of the Phantom Thieves looked around in confusion.  They were all on so many different pages, Yusuke was having trouble remembering who knew what.

Haru, who had mostly been listening to everyone else, spoke up in the silence first.  "Who is this Rin?  Were they a target who escaped?"

Yusuke shook his head fervently. "No, no, Noir.  She's a friend of mine who-"

Yusuke was unable to finish before the rest of the Thieves broke out in questions.

"The armless girl has a Shadow?!" Ryuji shouted over Yusuke's explanation.

"When did you find that out?" Makoto asked.

"Oracle, how on Earth do you know about her Shadow?" Akira asked, disappointment and bewilderment fighting in his voice.

Futaba snickered.  "Oh, Fox asked me to look up some info on her and her ex, and I checked your Metanav's search history, just in case.  Found her there.  From there, everything about her story began to make sense."

So Futaba had known they were looking into Rin's Shadow the whole time she was researching her.

"We're sorry we didn't tell you guys," Ann said to Ryuji and Makoto.  "Yusuke just discovered it on a whim, and we talked with her Shadow just once..."

As Ann and Morgana explained what Rin's Shadow was like to Ryuji and Makoto, Yusuke spoke with Haru.

"Rin is a friend of mine at Kosei," he said.  He showed Haru a few of her paintings on his phone, along with a picture he had taken of Rin working on a piece.  Haru looked captivated by each picture, her eyes softening behind her black mask when she saw Rin herself, paint brush clasped between her toes.

"They're all very lovely," she said, browsing through the album on Yusuke's phone.  "Pieces like this are so...powerful."  She had stopped on one of Rin's older paintings, one of two faces mashed together at the cheek, screaming, each with jaundice yellow skin tinted a bloody red at the edges, and a terrible scar running down the middle, between the two faces.

She pointed out a few more of Rin's more gruesome paintings.  "The colors and expressions really leap out at you.  I'd love to purchase some of them, if they are for sale," she concluded.  Yusuke had expected that she might like Rin's art, but not the most visceral, painful-looking ones.  Haru Okumura continued to surprise him.  She handed the phone back to Yusuke.

"I'll ask if she's comfortable with that," he said.  "But at the moment we're concerned for her.  She's been struggling recently, and I discovered that she has a Shadow, who expressed some very troubling, almost self-destructive sentiments when we spoke with it."

"That is concerning," Haru agreed.  "A change of heart does seem extreme in such circumstances.  I only asked you all to change my father's heart as a last resort, because he holds power over so many other people.  But if those self-destructive thoughts become self-destructive actions, then perhaps it may be necessary, Fox."

Yusuke hated to admit it, but Haru made a very good point.

"Okay, people," Akira said over the babble. "Break's past over, we've got keycards to find and a CEO's heart to change."

A few days later, Yusuke returned to the atelier with Akira.  They had been on many excursions around Tokyo, to Inokashira Park and the church in Kanda to expand Yusuke's breadth of experience, but coming back to his living space of many years was the most eye opening trip.  The police had confiscated everything in the building, leaving the entire structure empty of all but the paint stains on the floorboards.

They sat down together in an empty room.  Yusuke reminisced about his life in the atelier with Akira, watching older students paint and learning their techniques, reading art magazines and manga between paintings, all of the students teasing Madarame about his meals of miso soup and pickles…

The nostalgia that overcame him was not new, but it was the first time he had felt it in front of another person, and he had to hide his embarrassment.

“Are you okay, Yusuke?” Akira asked as he hid his face. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m…confused,” Yusuke admitted. “My life was so much simpler when I lived with Sens…Madarame.  It was all a lie, but I often find myself reminiscing, remembering those days fondly.  However…”

“You feel guilty about them now, right?” Akira asked.  Yusuke nodded.  “It’s okay to look fondly on things you now understand to be flawed, Yusuke.”

“But how should I think of all those years of my life I spent enriching Madarame, as he squeezed me and everyone who trusted him for all they were worth, and be anything but disgusted with myself?”  Yusuke leaned his head against the wall.

Akira was silent for a moment.  “When I was convicted, I suddenly found myself with a lot fewer friends.  I was expelled, but even outside school no one from the drama club or the sports clubs wanted to be seen around me.”  He sighed deeply.  “I’d been friends with some of those people since elementary school, and they just... cut me off.”

Akira shifted in place, stretching his legs.  "Some of them messaged me in private.  That their parents had forbidden them from talking with me, or they had a prestigious university looking over their life with a fine-tooth comb, and couldn't afford to be seen with me.  They all relayed their regret and sympathy to me, but..."

"They still chose their life over your friendship," Yusuke finished the sentence as Akira trailed off.

Akira nodded.  "I've thought about them a lot since then.  Were they ever really my friends?  Does looking out for themselves mean they never really liked me, or just that they judged their social reputations to be more important?  What does that all mean for my high school and junior high memories?  Should I not remember that time we played in Junji's backyard and pranked his sister so fondly, considering he never returned any of my texts?  Is reminiscing about the movies I saw and enjoyed with Risuka wrong, if she said she needed to keep her career choices clear when I called her in tears?"

Yusuke was aware of Akira's situation, but that he had become such a social pariah was new.

"I can't remove the memories of all those good times, even if none of them will speak with me now.  The joy and discovery you felt when Madarame taught you was real, and nothing he did, not his real motivation or true objective, can tarnish the real lessons and memories you took away from those interactions, Yusuke."  Akira stood up and offered a hand to Yusuke.  "Abuse is hard enough to navigate without having to feel guilty about remembering happier times.  Don't ignore what you know now, but don't let it drag you down either."

Yusuke smiled and accepted the help up.  Akira always knew just what to say, whether it was talking out issues with friends, or negotiating with Shadows.

"You move on, Yusuke," he said. "You learn more.  I know how it hurts now, but when you have more happy memories, you can look back at all of them and see what's really worth remembering."

They mulled about the atelier for a while longer, and eventually encountered the art critic that Yusuke had spoken with at his last gallery showing.  The old man introduced himself as Akiko Kawanabe, a patron of the arts and director of an art scholarship program.  He offered Yusuke his business card and to treat Yusuke and Akira to dinner to discuss potential opportunities his foundation could give Yusuke.  Yusuke agreed to meet him the next day.

Each day outside of Madarame's tutelage, Yusuke felt his world expanding, but it was not always a positive feeling.  The more he learned, the less sure he was that he was on the right track, that there even was a right track.

The Phantom Thieves theft of Okumura's heart ended in tragedy, as the CEO of Okumura Foods suffered a mental shutdown during his press conference.  Each of them was shaken to the core, and Haru fled their celebration party to deal with the fallout.

Yusuke was still in a daze when he arrived back at his dorm room, so he almost did not notice the plain envelope that had been slipped under his door.  He reached down for it, the room so dark he could not see any information on it.  He flicked the light switch, and saw that the return address had no name of the sender, and the address itself was unfamiliar.  It was some kind of government building.  He opened the letter.

He read it and he felt his heart nearly stop.

Yusuke,

My affairs are finally in order and I am settled in my new prison home.  It is now time to speak, as I promised.  Come to the address attached this Sunday, and I will tell you what happened between your mother and I, as well as anything else you wish to know.  The time for secrets has passed.

Ichiryusai Madarame

Chapter Text

Fox: I have something I wish to discuss.

Oracle: well, you're in the right place for that, inari

Oracle: that's the whole point of the group chat

Fox: It is a very personal matter I would like to request assistance with.

Fox: However,

Joker: Go on.

Fox: I feel ever so slightly guilty requesting help when another of our number is already going through such turmoil.

Noir: Oh, you shouldn't feel so guilty, Yusuke-kun!

Noir: I'd be happy to aid you with whatever you need!

Queen: Haru…

Noir: Yes, Mako-chan?

Queen: It's okay to take some time to yourself. 

Noir: Please don’t be worried, I'm doing just fine!

Joker: Your father just died, Haru.

Noir: ...

Noir: You're right, of course.

Noir: It's just...easier to throw myself at something else.

Joker: Trust me, I get it.  But you've got to focus on you.

Panther: Do you want us to come by and help out, Haru?

Noir: While I appreciate the gesture, the condo is currently filled with detectives from the SIU and Mako-chan's sister, and they will likely be coming and going for the next few days.

Oracle: uh oh

Noir: So perhaps discretion is advisable.

Joker: Have they requested to see your phone or correspondence?

Noir: Not as of yet, no.

Oracle: i'm gonna make sure the group chat is extra super secure anyways

Queen: Good idea, Futaba.

Noir: Regardless, Yusuke, you had an issue?

Fox: Yes, thank you Haru.

Fox: I received a letter from Madarame.

Fox: Asking me to visit him so he can explain what happened to my mother.

Panther: !!!

Skull: For real?!

Joker: I'm concerned, and Morgana hissed loudly in my ear, so I guess he is too.

Oracle: this seems mega sus

Fox: I am wary of engaging with him again.  

Fox: But I would like to at least hear what he has to say.

Fox: He has expressed no desire for forgiveness, nor has he attempted to reconcile; he appears to only want to explain his history with my mother, and presumably how it all fell apart.

Panther: Okay...

Fox: Also, this could be a valuable opportunity.

Queen: How so?

Fox: We have yet to observe the long-term effects of a change of heart.

Skull: You're kinda right.

Joker: Morgana's saying that's a very good point.

Fox: I would like some company when I head over to the prison this Sunday, if you are available.

Queen: I'd like to volunteer.

Queen: I can research Madarame's trial, conviction and sentence, looking for anything else we need to ask about.

Fox: I was going to request your help, Makoto.  Excellent job preempting me.

Joker: Yeah, she's good at that.

Panther: Also, we should make a note of what we learned in his Palace vs what we learned in reality.

Panther: We don't need to blurt out something we couldn't possibly know because his Shadow told us.

Fox: Excellent point, Ann.

Queen: Anyone else you would like to bring?

Fox: Yes, actually.

Fox: Would you mind accompanying us, Ryuji?

Skull: Wha?

Oracle: ???

Skull: I mean, I'll do it, no problem.  But why me?

Fox: I've often found myself remembering my time with Madarame very fondly, despite all that he did.

Fox: He was my foster father, in a sense.

Fox: And I trust Ryuji's righteous passion for justice to keep me from falling back into his manipulations, should he attempt them.

Oracle: ah, shouting at you if you get mopey

Oracle: finally, a good use of Ryuji ¬‿¬

Skull: Ah, shaddup.

Joker: Despite Yusuke's very...Yusuke-ish phrasing, it's not a bad idea.

Skull: Sure, if you want me there, I can come.

Fox: Thank you.

Fox: We can meet a Leblanc early on Sunday, and then embark on the train.

Joker: I'll talk with Ann, and we'll draft up that list of what we learned in the Palace, then get it sent over.

Fox: Thank you both.

Queen: See you then.

Noir: Good luck, everyone!

Yusuke arrived early at Leblanc on Sunday.  Akira said he had the okay from Sojiro to open the shop and serve his friends before he got there, and he treated Yusuke to some of Leblanc's curry to settle his nerves and fill his stomach.

"I'm not sure what I'm expecting, or why I'm so nervous," Yusuke admitted to Akira, before either of the other two arrived.

"He abused and exploited you, Yusuke," Akira countered.  "And now you're going to get honest answers about all of it from him.  I'd be more concerned if you weren't nervous about this."

Yusuke contemplated that as Ryuji stumbled in, followed shortly by Makoto, with a thick notebook and manila folder.  They chatted small talk while finishing the curry Akira had prepared, before the topic turned to the Phantom Thieves' plummeting popularity in the wake of Okumura's death and the subsequent framing of the Shujin principal's death on them as well.

The bell rang again as Sojiro entered, slightly surprised by the people already in his shop.  They all thanked him for his hospitality, and said they would study upstairs, while the shop was open.  Sojiro nodded, but did not look like he entirely believed their excuse about a study session, as only Makoto looked even slightly equipped for one.

In Leblanc's attic, the four teens and one cat crowded around the table as Makoto laid out some of her notes and a few printed news articles, like a detective laying out evidence in an interrogation.

"So, the facts of the Madarame's trial:" Makoto began to explain.  "He was charged with both insurance and securities fraud, forgery, conspiracy and criminal neglect."  She picked up one of the printed online news articles and passed it to Yusuke, who skimmed it.  It was as Makoto described, each criminal charge he had been accused of.  He passed it to Ryuji next to him when he was done, who then passed it to Akira.  Ryuji seemed to barely read it, preferring to listen to Makoto's explanation.

"After a long and drawn-out trial," she continued, "he was convicted of three counts of fraud, and one of conspiracy."

"Hold up," Ryuji interjected. "I'm not a lawyer, but if a guy comes in and confesses a bunch of crimes as he turns himself in, why wouldn't he be convicted of them all?  I thought that would be a slam dunk for the public prosecutors."

Akira spoke up.  "You'd think that, but when you're rich the rules bend around you."

"Okay, but my mom watches a bunch of those cop and legal dramas," Ryuji said.  "There's a prosecutor and defense, arguing for if someone's guilty, yeah?  So if he's just freely admitting everything he did, why and how did he beat any of the charges?"

"It had more to do with the people around him," Makoto said.  "There was a network of people who profited off with Madarame."

"There was a whole host of publicity managers," Yusuke explained.  "As well as some other business men and women who would stop by the atelier from time to time.  I assume they were part of the sale of fake copies of Sayuri, or other...enterprises."

"Yes, and all of them had a vested interest in hiring Madarame a strong legal defense to minimize the damage from the investigations and trial in any way," Makoto continued.

"Still, I thought the police would be all over this and his confession would be more than enough," Ryuji said, exasperated.  "I know it's a bad thing, but I thought this would be the one time that the whole 99% conviction rate thing Japan has would be good for us!"

"Madarame turning himself in may have backfired on that front, actually," Makoto sighed.  "The police seemed to resent that the Phantom Thieves were being credited for 'catching' Madarame, so they did not pursue this case with much enthusiasm.  A sentiment that only got worse when Kaneshiro turned himself in and the Phantom Thieves were being praised as heroes, in direct contrast to the police."

Morgana piped up.  "I bet that really irritated them.  By the way, how'd you learn all this, Makoto?"

"Yeah," Ryuji added.  "This doesn't seem like stuff you'd find in the news."

Makoto looked slightly embarrassed.  "Some of it was reading the articles...some of it was asking Futaba for information from the data on Sis's hard drive; internal memos and the sort...and some of it is from gently prying when she was home this last week."

Morgana straightened up.  "I see..."

"So the police just went easy on Madarame to... what, spite us?"  Ryuji asked.

"Partial," Makoto shrugged.  "But the rest is practical.  When we changed Kaneshiro's heart and he turned himself into the police, it was suddenly all hands on deck.  He was giving the police all sorts of information on other organized crime, and one of the up-and-coming crime bosses in Tokyo suddenly abdicating his position and telling the authorities everything also threw the crime world into chaos.  In addition to the police not much liking the Madarame case, they suddenly didn't have the bandwidth to pursue it."

"Like ripples in a pond," Yusuke said.  "Changing Madarame's heart was a stone thrown into the water, but before the ripples could travel very far we dropped a boulder named Kaneshiro into the same pond, and his waves and splashes obscured and disrupted the fallout of our previous actions."

"More elaborate a metaphor than necessary, Yusuke," Akira said with a grin.  "But you're very right."

"So, with all of the police focused on organized crime and Kaneshiro, they passed off a half-finished investigation off to trial, and chose a very lenient judge," Makoto continued.  "Where they were met by Madarame's robust legal team.  They settled some of the charges out of court, the rest they fought."

"The end result is those four charges that stuck.  He was initially sentenced to sixty years in prison, but that was argued down to forty, and he was sent to a nicer, white-collar prison, for better medical care on account of his age."

Laid out like that, their victory over Madarame felt a little hollow.

"Sorry we couldn't do more, Yusuke," Morgana said, eyes downcast.

Yusuke shook his head.  "I wanted more, but I think I always knew that the chance of him getting the punishment he deserves was slim," he said, crossing his legs and staring down at Makoto's notes. "Ultimately, it's enough for me that he can't do any more harm.  His punishment is secondary to a cessation of further exploitation.  It's why I became a Phantom Thief.”

They all nodded in understanding. 

Akira withdrew his phone.  "So, here's the list Ann and I came up with of stuff we saw in the museum..."

The group all walked to the train station with Akira and Futaba, who were going on their own outing.  They grabbed the train to Shibuya, while Yusuke and company took a train the opposite direction, to the outlying suburban areas.

The train ride was spent mostly in silence between them.  Ryuji played some kind of classic game on his handheld, Makoto reviewed her notes from a class to prepare for her college exams, and Yusuke read a small book on western art history.

Partway through the journey, Makoto closed her notes and tapped Yusuke on the shoulder.  He marked his page in the book and turned to her.  She looked...concerned, but also preoccupied.

"I have something I want to ask you about Madarame," she said.  "Something personal."

"Ask away," he said.

"When...when did you decide to change his heart?"  She asked hesitantly. "What was the deciding factor for you?"

Yusuke leaned back into the train seat and contemplated.  While his memories of the museum were vivid, his first trip where he had awakened Goemon and joined the Phantom Thieves was something of a blur.  He had been concerned about what his mentor wasn't telling him one moment, and then an hour and a half of trans-dimensional battling later he had resolved to change his heart.

"I suppose..." Yusuke began, "that it was when it became clear that he would continue to do more harm, even if I left.  At first, I just wanted to escape him, and changing his heart was a matter of self-defense, like changing Kaneshiro's heart."  Makoto nodded and he continued, "But when I became clear that he would not stop his abuse and theft, then it became the right thing to do for me, as well as others, if that makes sense.  Why do you ask, Makoto?"

"Oh, no reason," she said, evasively. "Just...thinking about possible future targets."  She opened her notes back up and returned to studying.  Yusuke pondered what she could be thinking for a minute or so, before his mind wandered and began to study the other people on the train for artistic inspiration.

(Reflecting on this conversation a week or so later, once they knew the identity of their next target, would prove illuminating for Yusuke, but for the moment he remained oblivious.)

Eventually, they arrived at their destination.  Ryuji's phone led them through the streets to a relatively unassuming building.  It did not look like a prison, with only a single chain-link fence around it.  From a distance, it looked like a large school, or a particularly spartan apartment complex.  But upon drawing closer, the truth was revealed in the details: the narrow windows with a grid of wire embedded in them, the loudspeakers that hung at every corner, or the security guard who was talking into his radio while overlooking a courtyard that had several old men in muted green outfits and matching caps chatting beneath a gazebo.

They circled around the exterior until they arrived at the doorway labeled 'Visitor Entrance,” where they all climbed the steps and walked inside.  There was minimal seating against the walls and a small desk with a bored-looking man behind it, who barely acknowledged them.

"Name and who you're visiting?" he asked as they approached the counter.

"I'm Yusuke Kitagawa, here to see Ichiryusai Madarame," he supplied. 

"Ah, the artist," he said, then tapped away at a computer and keyboard hidden behind the desk.  "It's just one person on the schedule, who are you two?" he asked, looking at the others, giving Ryuji and his bleached hair a disapproving once-over.

Ryuji made an irate noise, but Makoto stepped in.  "He's one of Madarame's victims, we're here as… emotional support."

The man did not look like he believed it for a moment, but both interest and concern rapidly drained from his face as he slid a clipboard over the desk and asked them all to sign in on the attached sheet.  

When they were done, he took the board back and asked them to take a seat while they set everything up.

“I can’t say what I was expecting,” Ryuji said quietly, as another elderly man in the prison uniform was escorted down a nearby hall. “But a medium-security old-folk's home wasn’t it.”

“It’s sadly becoming quite common,” Makoto replied, sorrow under her voice. “Many senior citizens with no savings, family or retirement plans are turning to crime to make ends meet, and welcome imprisonment as a reprieve from destitution.”  

Ryuji sighed.  “You think that’s what that old guy who was harassing people and not paying for meals in Kichijoji was hoping for?”

“Possibly,” Yusuke said.  He felt a little numb, sitting here waiting to speak with the man who had raised and abused him.  They had come up with a list of things not to mention to avoid suspicion, and Yusuke kept it in his mind, repeating it.  Ryuji noticed his nervousness, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

A few minutes later, another guard appeared.

“Kitagawa-san,” he said, standing in front of another hallway. “We apologize for the delay, we had to find a larger room for your… party.  This way, please.”

He led the group down the hallway to an unassuming door, and briefly explained the surveillance policy, how long they would have and what to do if something went wrong, before leaving them and returning to his post.

Yusuke opted not to peer into the window set in the door.  His hand rested on the handle for a moment, preparing himself.

“It’s okay, Yusuke,” Makoto said, placing her hand above his on the long vertical bar that was the door handle.  “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, and they opened the door together.

The room was plain, with beige walls, linoleum floors, and a single light set in the ceiling, with only a replica of a famous sumi-e ink landscape set against one wall for decoration.  It was striking enough that Yusuke focused on it for a moment before noticing the man in the room, sitting on the other side of a plain table.

Madarame did not look as he had when Yusuke had known him.  His ponytail was gone, his steely gray hair was now cut short, with his mustache and beard now surrounded by a slight fuzz, his grooming suffering now that he had no events to attend.  The dull green uniform hung on his frame and slouching shoulders in a way his brown robe never had, making him look small and frail.  He looked up at Yusuke, a myriad of sorrowful emotions playing out behind his eyes.

“It’s good to see you again, Yusuke,” he said as they found their seats at the wide table.  “These are your… friends?” he said, gesturing to Makoto and Ryuji. 

“We’re his backup,” Ryuji said, pulling his chair away from the table, and spinning it around to sit on it backwards. “In case you try anything fishy.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Madarame’s lips.  “I assure you I have no such intentions, young man.  But it is good to see Yusuke having friends outside the atelier.”

“This isn’t a social visit, Madarame-san,” Makoto said, as Yusuke steeled himself.  “Your letter said you wanted to tell him about his mother, which is why we’re here.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, folding his hands on the table.  “It’s a long, winding tale from my youth, to meeting his mother, to now.  Please, give this old man your patience, there is a point to this story.”

Yusuke nodded and Madarame began.

“Through my thirties and early forties, I was an unremarkable artist.  I received occasional contracts from game companies or real estate firms, as well as other, similarly small paydays, but my independent art never became popular or sold well.  I was always on the fringe, but standing from a distance affords you a different perspective.  I slowly learned what was always popular, what went in and out of fashion, what the public favored and what the critics favored.  And although I never had the talent to utilize it, I found I could predict the reaction any given piece would receive at a gallery showing.  Such a talent wasn’t very useful, given that as a third-rate artist my word carried little weight, but some listened to me.  That was how I met your mother.”

Yusuke felt his chest clench involuntarily.

“Ichika was just out of college, looking for an artistic partner to learn from.  She complimented a few of my works at a gallery, and we grew closer.  She was…” Madarame paused, staring past Yusuke, his eyes swimming with the beginning of tears.  “She was kind, and beautiful, and so, so enthusiastic.  To be honest, I had given up on art, and was considering trying to find a different career at the time, but her love of painting, of creating new works, and her vibrant spirit let me see my work and others in a different, better light.  She didn’t let her epilepsy, or the associated complications affect her, she always lived life to the fullest.”

“We began to…collaborate,” Madarame said, searching for the right words. “She would come to me with questions about pieces, or for advice on where a painting should go when she was stuck.  We even painted a few pieces together, and her amazing brushwork elevated mine, her work made mine… worthy.  All my artist’s names and pseudonyms were tarnished by my decade-plus of mediocre art… so I insisted she release our collaborations under her name.  They all performed well, but almost never sold, too sentimental for the discerning public.”

“She improved everything she touched, even as… as I envied her, my solo work began to decline, and the money began to dry up…” Madarame folded his hands again, his expression turning grim.  “When her husband, your father, died in a car crash after she had fallen pregnant… and she couldn’t afford her apartment… I offered her part of my apartment to stay, if she could pay half the rent… It was a stroke of ill fortune that let me keep my place of residence, and help a friend… so I couldn’t help but feel a small, perverse relief that your father had died when he did.  I barely met the man, I never wished him ill, but his death did help me, so I felt…guilty about it.”

Yusuke tried to process what he was learning with what he remembered: faint fragments of his mother, and calling Madarame ‘uncle.’  They had lived together, that much he had remembered, but it was out of necessity for them both?

“Having you was more of a strain than anyone had anticipated,” Madarame continued. “Ichika was subject to an extended hospital stay where she could not work, the worsening of her epilepsy, medical bills that were paid over rent, and all the expenses of a newborn, and soon a toddler… It was a harrowing time.  I tried to pick up the slack, but my skills had continued to deteriorate.”

He sighed.  Yusuke could feel what was coming: Madarame leaving his mother to die.

“Looking back, it feels like Ichika knew her death was coming.  Her health was declining, and she focused all her attention and effort into a new piece.   A beautiful painting of herself, cradling her newborn son.”

“ Sayuri, ” Yusuke said.  Though they had learned the truth of the painting in Madarame’s Palace, he himself had admitted what was in the original in his letter to Yusuke after the museum collapsed, so they all had judged it a safe topic to talk around, but one they should avoid any specifics, if possible.

“Yes, although that was the title I gave it,” he replied. “I never asked her for the title, and she never told me.  She might have intended to give it one, but it is a moot point, as she…”

Madarame took a deep breath.  “We were arguing.  I can’t even remember what it was about, something about the utility expenses, and how she was too focused on her personal piece.  But she got very heated, yelled in my face for what felt like the first time… and then she collapsed to the floor, cracking her head on the tile and spasming.  And I…”

This was it.

“I froze.  I knew I needed to call for help, but this was the first time I had seen her seizures up close.  They were rare, and most of them happened while she was alone or was already laying down.”

What?

“I fumbled for the apartment’s landline, but you were crying at your mother falling over, and I was panicking and it slipped through my fingers, and the wireless handset broke on the floor.”

Did…did Madarame not leave his mother to die?  Was he lying now?

“I grabbed you and ran, banging on the neighbor’s door, for them to call a paramedic, call someone.”

He paused and silence hung in the air, as all three of them absorbed his words.

“She died that night, Yusuke.  The doctors said that there was nothing I could have done for her… but something in my mind told me they were lying.  I thought they didn’t want me to feel guilty, but I did.  If I had just acted sooner, not frozen and gotten help immediately, she’d still be alive.  I’m so sorry, Yusuke.”

Yusuke struggled to reconcile what he was learning with what Madarame’s Shadow had said, how it had claimed responsibility for her death, when Morgana’s words came to mind:

“A Shadow’s words are just a person’s thoughts, and they can be just as fleeting and immaterial as any thought can be.”

Did his Shadow say he had killed her, because the real Madarame blamed himself?  Had his hesitation been twisted into the Shadow’s reasoning for her death?  It felt…right, in a way, from what he had observed of Rin’s and Futaba’s Shadows.  Suppressed guilt, even if misplaced, could blossom into the kind of open, brazen admittance the Shadow had displayed.

“Since Ichika had no living family, I took custody of you, rather than leave you to one of the orphan group homes.  But I was having trouble making ends meet before, and without your mother, I began to approach destitution… and that is when a terrible thought crossed my mind.”

“I saw the painting your mother had nearly completed of herself, and I could see that it could almost be a commercial masterpiece.  Ichika had rendered her own expression of tender love in such detail, with such clarity, it was beautiful... But staring at the child cradled in her arms was… obvious, sentimental.  It needed mystique, uncertainty, like the mystery of the Mona Lisa ’s smile.  My experience let me see that it would be adored for a week, and then discarded… And I knew exactly what to do to make it perfect for the critics of the art world.  It only required that I sacrifice a memento of my friend that she left for her son… but I was doing so to care for her son, so I convinced myself it was for the best.  I told myself that it was one last collaboration, that it was Ichika asking me to help her complete a piece that would pay for her son, and me.  Oh…”

He began to sob slightly, a hitch in his voice as he spoke.  “Oh, Ichika, I’m so sorry.  I destroyed your final artwork, just for money! I defaced it, when I should have found another way!”  Makoto removed a small package of facial tissues from her purse and slid them over to Madarame.  

As he cleaned up his face and blew his nose, Makoto leaned over to Yusuke and whispered, “We’ve not got much time left, we need to finish this up.”

Yusuke nodded and looked into his former mentor’s eyes as he finished cleaning his face.  “We’ve not much time, and I understand the rest of the story from here.  I do want to ask, how did you get to exploiting minors and plagiarism from a single theft?”

Madarame heaved a great sigh.  “The short answer is: it was easier.  After I used my real name and announced Sayuri as my maiden work, most art critics and the general public embraced the piece as the masterwork of pop-art I had turned it into.  After that, I defaced more of Ichika’s art, and rationalized it all the same way, that this was for Yusuke’s sake, that it was the only way…”

“I had spent so long as a starving artist, that the wealth that flooded in was… intoxicating.  I let it corrupt me, and excused all manner of theft with the lie that it was worth it to avoid my old lifestyle.”

That, at least, lined up exactly with what his Shadow had said.

“And when the ‘master artist’ persona I had constructed to help sell the lie of the Sayuri attracted young pupils looking for help, I took them under my wing while resenting them.  I resented their natural talent and their youthful energy.   I taught them how to make art that would sell and fill galleries, then took it from them.  I told myself that since I had taught them how to make it, the artwork was really mine…  I was truly a predator, feeding on helpless prey.  God, I’m so sorry, Hitoshi.  I’m so sorry. Please forgive..." he paused.

“No, I don’t desire forgiveness.  I exploited dozens of children and teenagers for my own gain, while I told myself it was all for their sake.  I deserve all that happens to me, now.”  His head sank into his hands.

Yusuke felt overwhelmed with all he had learned.  No amount of context could erase his former sensei’s awful deeds, but knowing how it all started from a desire to keep Yusuke safe…  Even with all the terrible things Madarame had done, it was simultaneously worrying and comforting to know it had begun.  Yusuke wasn’t sure how to feel, and guessed that he would need to sleep on all of it.  He glanced at his companions, who both nodded back.

Makoto spoke up.  “Thank you, Madarame-san, this has been most…enlightening.  Just for my own curiosity, what was having your heart changed by the Phantom Thieves like?”

Madarame stared at her curiously for a moment before speaking.  “Well, young lady, it didn’t feel much like anything.  I went to bed one night believing all my actions were justified, that my exploitation was correct, and when I woke up, none of my justifications seemed adequate.  I just…suddenly knew what I had done was wrong, and that I needed to atone.”

Makoto nodded.  “I think that’s all then, unless you have anything else.”

Madarame looked into Yusuke’s eyes before he spoke.  “I have one more thing to say.  A lesson, if you will.  Yusuke, you're stuck in your art, aren't you?"

Yusuke felt a chill run down his spine, and he felt Ryuji tense beside him.  "How did you know?"

A small, sad smile crossed Madarame's face.  "Yusuke, despite all the harm I did, I was your guardian and art teacher for over thirteen years.  I know you better than either of us wants to admit."

A knock at the room door indicated their time was almost up.

"The pursuit of 'pure beauty' in a monastic, ascetic existence was a lie I created.  I used it to control you, to keep you in the atelier.  But there is pure beauty out there," he gestured vaguely.  "But it is not found alone.  It is found with friends and loved ones, while living one's life.  The dichotomy between living for art and art as a business is a false one.  The choice between artistic truth and commercial success is not a hard divide."

"I could not walk that middle path, Yusuke," Madarame said as the door opened and a guard came to retrieve him.  "I hope that you can succeed where I failed."

Yusuke felt sympathy and pity tug at his heart as Madarame was escorted away.

"I'm sorry, Yusuke," he said, before the guard guided him away, out of the room.

"Some story," Ryuji muttered, after a moment.

"It does make a certain amount of sense," Makoto said.  "But we shouldn't discuss this here."

They left the prison and its beige interior, and returned to Leblanc.  Sojiro seemed to sense that something heavy occurred, by Yusuke's somber mood, but he saw the way Yusuke was staring at the original Sayuri on the wall, and he refrained from asking questions.

The Shujin cultural festival came and Yusuke sought out the school counselor, Takuto Maruki.  His discussion with Yusuke was fruitful in processing his recent encounter with Madarame, as after some misunderstandings, they discussed his relationship with his former mentor, how someone might be able to change their thinking and overcome pain, and Yusuke's greatest wishes.  It was, all in all, a fruitful conversation that helped Yusuke process his feelings about Madarame.

As they were cleaning up their meal, Yusuke remembered one of the reasons he had sought Maruki out.

"Sir, would you be amenable to speaking with a classmate of mine?" he asked.  "I believe she might benefit from speaking to you."

Maruki considered Yusuke's words for a moment.  "My policy is that my doors are always open to students, so I don't see why another student from Kosei wouldn't be welcome, if she wants to speak with me."

Yusuke considered how he might be able to bring about that meeting, seeing as Rin was growing more and more distant and her pieces were growing... darker.

Unfortunately, those thoughts of somehow smuggling Rin into Shujin for a counseling session were chased out of Yusuke's head when the celebrity teenage detective Goro Akechi coerced the Phantom Thieves into infiltrating Makoto's sister's Palace.  While he pretended to be interested in catching the culprit behind the mental shutdown phenomenon, some careful digging by Futaba and Makoto revealed that he was the true culprit, the "Black Mask'' figure who had been shadowing the group since Madarame's Palace, and was planning to frame the Phantom Thieves for the mental shutdowns and kill Akira.  They all found it astonishing, but were even more astonished by Futaba and Akira's plan to escape Akechi's trap: pull a bit of Metaverse sleight-of-hand and let Akechi think he had killed Akira, to find out who the one who employed Akechi was.

It meant that they had to infiltrate Sae Niijima's casino Palace with Akechi, who was pretending to be a detective in search of the truth and not an assassin, and they had to pretend to believe it and not give away that they were onto his true nature.  It left Yusuke with little emotional bandwidth to spare, and he tried to focus on his own art while keeping an eye on Rin in his spare time.

A week into November, after returning from a  Mementos trip with the group, Yusuke noticed a new message on his phone from an unknown ID.

ModernWarfarin: Hello, are you Kitagawa-san?

Yusuke stared at the message in puzzlement.  Who could this be?

TokyoDaVinci: This is Yusuke Kitagawa, yes.  May I ask who this is?

ModernWarfarin: My name is Hisao Nakai.  I was a friend of Rin Tezuka when she was at Yamaku Academy.

ModernWarfarin: I need your help.

Chapter Text

Yusuke was taken aback.  He’d learned more than he ever meant to about Rin’s friend, possible ex-boyfriend from Yamaku, but he never anticipated speaking with him.

TokyoDaVinci: Ah, yes.  I’ve heard much about you.

ModernWarfarin: From who?

Yusuke almost typed “Futaba.” Just like speaking with Rin after speaking with her Shadow, he would have to be careful of what he said.

TokyoDaVinci: From Rin and Ibarazaki-san.

ModernWarfarin: That makes sense.

TokyoDaVinci: What can I do for you?

ModernWarfarin: I’m visiting a few universities in Tokyo this weekend, and I felt I should check in on Rin.

ModernWarfarin: The problem being that she’s not responding to any messages or calls from either Emi or Me.

Rin had missed several classes and several of their lunches together, but he hadn’t considered it anything odd.  She was simply focused on creating pieces for the showing in the spring.  Also, between how the previous Palace infiltration had ended, the letter from Madarame, how their new Palace infiltration had started, the plot on Akira’s life and working on his own artwork, he had forgotten to check in with Rin.

ModernWarfarin: Emi says you’re one of her only friends in Tokyo, so I was wondering if you could help me meet with her when I arrive this weekend.

TokyoDaVinci: I would be happy to help.

TokyoDaVinci: Truth be told, I’ve been quite preoccupied, I hadn’t noticed any change in her behavior, but she spends most of her time in her studio/room these days.

ModernWarfarin: …oh.  I see.

ModernWarfarin: I’ll see you this weekend.

ModernWarfarin: Thank you again for the help.

The rest of the week flew by, Yusuke devoting most of his free time to duplicating skill cards for Akira and his own piece for Kawanabe’s contest, which he did not have a solid theme or composition for yet.  Before he knew it, the weekend and Hisao Nakai’s visit had arrived.

Yusuke waited at the train station in Yongen-Jaya, and reflected on why he felt so nervous.  He was not Rin’s boyfriend or significant other, but he knew others saw them that way.  Would Hisao take their friendship that way as well?  Would he have to endure half-understood social barbs and microaggressions?  It occurred to Yusuke that for all he knew about Hisao’s life story, he knew very little of the boy himself.  Pondering these things was getting him nowhere, so he put them out of his mind and continued to wait.

Eventually, Yusuke spotted him from the photo he had been sent, as well as Rin’s painting of him.  Messy light brown hair, roughly parted in the center, with a somewhat sharp, angular face and dark brown eyes that seemed to shift in color as he looked around the station.  He was dressed in khaki slacks and a blue, argyle-patterned sweater vest that reminded Yusuke of one of Akechi’s outfits.  

Looking back over him with that in mind, Hisao looked remarkably like if Akechi had cut his hair.  Yusuke pushed down the memory of hearing Akechi plan Akira’s murder with his employer, and called out to him.  He spotted Yusuke and they made introductions.

“Nice to meet you, Kitagawa-san,” he said, shaking Yusuke’s offered hand.  “Would you mind if we caught a meal before heading to Kosei?  I’d like to hear about how Rin’s doing.”

“Not at all,” Yusuke said. “We can talk privately, if you like.  There’s a wonderful little café nearby…”

She wanders in a garden that’s like a tomb.  A cry rings out from the sky and an endless serpent sinks its fangs into the earth and poisons the ground, as Rin grips a sword in her hands, her hands made of metal and flesh twisted together.  She lunges and slashes at the snake, with its scales that are feathers, and parts its flesh.  No blood pours from the wound, but instead an eye opens up and stares at her.  Judges her.

“Your mind is not your own,” a voice whispers from the eye in the wound. “It is mine.”

She screams and plunges the sword into the pupil-

Rin Tezuka wakes up from her dream.

She used to not remember her dreams, but now they linger far longer.  Each one is frightening, surreal and ominous.  The images and feelings linger in her waking hours, like twisted wreckage, nonsense dream junk, filled with mental tetanus.

Just one more thing to discard.

She doesn’t know what day it is.  Chika doesn’t come by as much, probably.  She broke her alarm clock trying to turn it off a week ago, or maybe it was a month ago.  She ignored her phone, and now it’s lost and dead somewhere.  She knows she’s missed classes, but a school person stopped by to say it was okay.  Sensei told them it was okay, if she was working on her gallery showing.

Just like last time.

Her memory of last time, in the atelier above the 22nd Corner is hazy, but all this feels familiar.  Nothing matters but the art, it’s all that she can do.  All she has to do.

She can’t tell what hurts more: making this new art, or leaving it unmade.  

Yusuke hasn’t been by either, too busy with his other friends.  She wanted his opinion on another piece, but now she doesn’t.  

She doesn’t need it anymore.

She gets up from the bed, and gets back to work, without bothering to shower or change her clothes.  The smell doesn’t bother her: there’s more work to be done.  She works for hours, or maybe minutes, or maybe days.  She’s hungry, but that’s a constant now.  She drinks some bottled water, and heats up and nibbles at a microwave meal.  The shape on this painting isn’t right.  It isn’t round enough.  It needs to be like a pit, from which no light or hope can escape.  

There is a knock at the door.  Rin wonders who, but mostly just wants them to go away.  This work is too important to interrupt.  If she stops now, the pain and hunger will overwhelm her and stop her.  She makes a noise that she hopes conveys this feeling, but a voice from outside floats in.

“Hello?”

It’s Yusuke.  She tries to say ‘not now’ but she’s too focused on the painting, all that comes out is a noise.  She waits for a moment, there is talking outside the door, then someone else says something.

“Are you there, Rin?”

It’s Hisao’s voice.  She can’t forget that voice, no matter how hard she tries.

Suddenly, she doesn’t have the strength to refuse him.

“Come in,” she manages to croak out, while she turns towards the door.

The door opens and both of them are there.  The boys, the men who orbited her life.  Hisao looks healthy, except for his eyes.  His eyes look wrong, they’re dark and sad, like when he arrived at Yamaku.  He started smiling after he was there again.  Has he smiled since Rin left?  He’s not smiling now.  Hisao's gaze is locked on Rin, but Yusuke looks around, taking in the whole room, filled with new paintings: the dark swirl she’s working on, the twisted face in the corner, the knight’s helmet with iridescent patterns on it leaning up against the wall. 

She wonders what she looks like.  She doesn’t much like mirrors, the other Rin in them always seems wrong.  But she doesn’t need a mirror to know that she doesn’t look good.  Paint-stained gym shorts and an old dress shirt secured by a single button.  Her feet are coated in paint, and her hair’s many days unwashed.

“Hey Rin,” Hisao says, like nothing has happened.  Like they’re just meeting on the Yamaku roof for lunch.  (Rin misses lunch on the roof.  She misses the clouds.)  

“I told you to forget about me, Hisao,” she says.  They’ve texted, occasionally, since that day in the rain, when they last saw each other in person.  When she told him she was leaving.

“I tried,” Hisao says, stepping into the room, searching for a switch on the wall and sliding the lights up slightly.  Yusuke hangs back, just outside the room, like there’s a barrier keeping him out.  “But I couldn’t.  I see you couldn’t forget me either,” he gestures to the painting of himself, bleeding from his scar.

She thought about destroying it a week ago, but just… couldn’t.

“I tried to.  I’m still trying to,” she says. “But maybe it’s meant to stay.  I still need to find my answer.”

“You can’t do this again, Rin,” he says, gesturing to her body, to the art pieces. “Don’t you remember last time?”  He means in the atelier, before the gallery showing.

“Of course I remember, this is the way it has to be, though,” she says. “I hurt myself to make new art, and then it’s a big success.”

Hisao looks confused and almost angry as she explains this.  “Why, why do you need to do this, though?  How can an art showing be worth all this?  You don't need to do this, Rin, you are enough, as you are!”

Rin is just as bad at explaining reasons as she was when she was at Yamaku, she doesn’t know why Hisao thinks she’ll be able to explain now.  “It just is.  Everyone wants me to make great art and be happy about it.  I’m not happy about it, but you…” she pauses.  “Hisao, you told me I should be happy.  So that’s what I’ll do.  No matter what.”

Hisao’s expression changes.  He looks pained now.  Like his heart is hurting again.

“I’m not happy,” Rin continues.  “But if I try hard enough, if I dig deep enough, if I can clear all the junk away from my heart, then I will be happy with my art.”

Silence hangs between them, filling the room.

“I’m sorry, Rin,” Hisao says, his head hung.  “I wanted to understand you, because… I didn’t mean it like… I just…”

Silence again.

“I think… I still love you, Rin,” Hisao finally says.  “Even after all we both said, even after everything that happened, I couldn’t forget, I can’t let it go.  I thought we could reconnect, that I could help you, even if I still don’t know much about art…”  His eyes darken, his brow furrows, but not in an angry way.  What is that emotion?  Rin can’t remember the name.  “But I can’t watch you do this to yourself.  I can’t watch you try to destroy yourself again.”

“Then don’t,” Rin says. "I can do this alone."

He turns away from her.  “I’m sorry, Rin,” he says, and walks out of the room.  She turns to look at Yusuke, still standing outside the door. There’s an odd look in his eyes.  It’s sad, shocked, but… it looks like he’s remembering something.  Like… Rin reminds him of something.  Someone, perhaps.

“I’ll help you as long as I can, Rin,” he says.  “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

And he closes the door.

Rin feels the faint sensation of her eyes and cheeks being wet, but she ignores it.  She rummages under some tarps and discarded clothes for her phone, then plugs it in to charge.

Back to work, to salvage what she can.

“Yes, thank you.  I think that’s wise,” Yusuke said to the voice on the phone.  “I’ll speak to you again soon.  Thank you again.”  He hung up.

He and Hisao were near a bench in the Kosei courtyard.  Hisao was sitting down, head in his hands, as Yusuke paced on the phone.  He sat down next to Hisao, and sighed.  

Hisao had explained their relationship when they had eaten at Leblanc, how while Rin had worked on her art at the atelier, she’s been left with no supervision, and her physical and mental health had suffered, how she had hardly eaten, or cared for herself.  Yusuke could lose himself in his work, so he had not thought it too serious, but seeing Rin like that, lost and alone, working herself to the bone, not even thinking of anything else…

Just like with the Metaverse, seeing was believing.

Then there was the painting she was working on.  A black, gray and red swirl that reminded him of his first piece he submitted to a gallery after he left Madarame, Desire.  It was not identical, but the similar design spoke to her view on the world, to Yusuke.  One he remembered well: hopelessness, bafflement and despair.

“I was able to convince my painting instructor to speak with the Kosei student counselor, try to get some help for her,” Yusuke said. “Though, she wasn’t happy about being contacted on a Sunday.  Apparently, the Yamaku art teacher instructed them to allow her to work unobstructed.”

“Nomiya…” Hisao said under his breath. “He’ll turn Rin into a commercial success, even if it ruins her.” 

Yusuke looked at him for a moment.  He was hunched over, fingers threaded and elbows resting on his knees, in a pose that recalled Akira to Yusuke.  The two boys were of a kind, Yusuke felt.  Both tried to smile like everything was okay, but hid a bone-deep weariness just underneath.

“What should we do?” Yusuke asked.

Hisao sighed and shook his head.  “I don't know."  He paused for a long moment before continuing.  

"When I was…” he reached his hand towards his chest.  Towards the scar from his surgery.  Yusuke knew of it from the painting, though Hisao himself hadn't spoken of it, or his condition.  “When I started attending Yamaku, I was in a pretty dark spot.  My whole life was turned upside-down, and I was sent to a school for the disabled; a step down, an insult is how I thought of it at the time.”

His gaze was pointed down, just above his clasped hands.  “I… wasn’t a great person, then.  I was antisocial, pushed people away that tried to be my friends…  but Rin was different.  She was so frank about her disability and mine, it made me look at it all from a different perspective.  Being with her, joining the art club, over time, it helped me look at my life differently.  I wasn’t vindictive or bitter about my lot in life, and I tried new things, I looked at the people around me in a better light, all thanks to Rin.”

“And then… Nomiya pushed her to that damn exhibit.  She wasn’t comfortable with all the expectations, but she wanted to try new things, so I figured it must have been a good thing for her.  She spent a month in that attic, just painting, nothing else.  Sometimes she would see me, sometimes she wouldn’t.”

He sighed again.  “I’m not good… with understanding abstract things.  I’m more of a math-and-science guy, but something about how Rin looked at the world lodged itself in my heart… but it didn’t help me understand her any better.  I couldn’t see…”

He choked slightly, a tear welling in the corner of his eye.  Yusuke hesitated a moment, before reaching over and placing a hand on his shoulder.  “I couldn’t see how desperate she was for someone to understand her,” he said.  “I couldn’t see it, I just wanted her to be happy, and thought that success would make her happy.  That if she would display her art to a crowd and have them applaud her… I thought that’s what she meant by 'being understood'.  But I was wrong, she was overwhelmed by the questions they asked her, the questions she couldn’t answer about her art…”

“I think understand what you mean,” Yusuke interjected, to give him a break. “We studied an English poet, who described it well when asked about the meaning of his work.  He said, ‘If I could have said it any other way, I would have.’”

“Exactly,” Hisao said. “Rin’s work speaks for itself, even if I can never quite see what she meant, I can see that she painted it because she couldn’t say it…  At least, I can see that now.  Back then, I couldn’t.  So when she turned to me for understanding, I just tried to cheer her up, and suggested that she take pride in her art, that she should be happy with what she had.” 

Hisao’s expression turned dark.  “She was practically begging me to understand her words, and I brushed past them… And she took those words and Nomiya’s expectations to heart, and accepted his scholarship to Kosei, leaving before the term was even up.”

He leaned back on the bench, eyes studying the gray sky.  “I set her on this path, and now I can’t find a way to bring her back or take her off of it.”

“You bear no responsibility in this, Nakai-san,” Yusuke said. “There was no way for you to have known how Rin would interpret your words.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Kitagawa-san,” he responded. “Maybe, one day, I’ll even believe it.  I want to help her, but she doesn’t want my help, and I can’t… I can’t spend anymore time or emotional labor on her.  Even if I still love her.”

Yusuke recalled Goemon’s advice to him about the Sayuri.  “If you love something, let it go,” Yusuke said to Hisao. “If it was meant to be, it will return to you.  Let me help Rin.  I’ll get her the help she needs, there’s a therapist I trust, one who has already aided many of my friends.  As soon as my schedule lightens up, I’ll introduce Rin to him.”

“Thanks, Kitagawa-san,” Hisao said, his voice heavy as he stood up from the bench.  “I can’t hope for too much, but I…” he trailed off, then shook his head.  “Regardless, I’ve got a few campus tours for colleges I’m looking at that I’ve still got to get to.  Thanks for everything.”

He extended his hand, and Yusuke shook it.  They parted ways, and Yusuke left to find Chika and discuss Rin’s condition.

Yusuke lay awake at midnight.

Their plan to fool Akechi and fake Akira’s murder had gone smoothly.  Or at least, all the parts of the plan that the other team members had been present for.  They had defeated Sae’s Shadow, swapped her Treasure with a duplicate, feigned surprise when the police had ambushed them, and Akira had distracted them with the intention of being caught.  Makoto had even thought of another step on their way out of Sae’s Palace, and ran off to shove Sae’s cognitive Akechi in a locker, to ensure he couldn’t interfere.  Now, it was just up to Akira to convince Sae to work with them and activate the Metanav so their plan would work.  

Now Akira was being interrogated by Sae somewhere in the depths of the police station, recounting the Phantom Thieves’ adventures to her in an attempt to persuade her.  Each of them had expressed nervousness in the group chat (the real one, not the duplicate they had made with Akechi in it.)  Eventually, Makoto had told them all to go to sleep, and not to worry over something they had no control over.  Futaba stood ready to guide Sae through what needed to be done when the app was activated, the rest of them would need their rest for the ensuing discussion.

It hadn’t helped Yusuke’s nerves.  He stared at his copy of the Metanav, at the entry for Sae’s Palace, wondering what was going on there right now.  Had Akechi already killed Akira’s double, or was the cognitive clone still sitting there, blissfully unaware?

Yusuke backed out of the Casino entry, and was about to close the app when something caught his eye.  Another entry in his search history, with an icon he had not seen before.

Rin’s Shadow in Mementos.  In the chaos of Okumura’s death and Sae’s casino, checking up on her Shadow had completely slipped his mind.  The location of the Shadow was grayed out, a small circular icon with an exclamation mark next to it.  Yusuke tapped the icon, and an alert appeared.

This destination is no longer valid.  Please try searching for this candidate again.

Yusuke’s blood ran cold.  Rin’s Shadow wasn’t there anymore?  That could only mean one of a handful of things, and the only 'good' outcome would raise far more questions.  The app opened back up the search screen, with ‘Rin Tezuka’ already filled in.

Hesitantly, hoping against hope that the app was wrong, he spoke aloud.

“Mementos.”

“Result not found.”

He felt ice form in his veins.  If her Shadow was not in Mementos, then that means it had evolved its own Palace.  His worries for Akira evaporated, as his promise to Hisao echoed in his head.

If she did have a Palace, he should investigate it.  Not tonight, he’d have to discuss when he could make time with the team, but he should… should locate the Palace, place the distortion.  At the very least.  There were a limited number of places Rin visited in Tokyo, so Yusuke had a pretty good idea where it was.

“Kosei High School.”

“Result found.”

It was no surprise, but it still brought no joy to see it.  Now, for the hard part: what did Rin see as the school as?  Might as well start guessing.

“Prison.”

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Labyrinth?”

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Studio.”

“Conditions have not-”

“Temple.”

“Conditions-”

“Laboratory?”

“Conditions have not been met.”

This random guessing was better suited to Ryuji.  He needed a thread to follow.  With Futaba, they had asked her, as a clue into her perception.  Yusuke thought about his time with Rin, the words she had used, the things she had painted, and what her Shadow had told them…

After a long moment, he spoke his guess.

“Scrap yard.”

The app chimed.

“Input accepted.”  A red button appeared for him to travel to her palace.

Yusuke stared at the Metaverse address of Rin’s Palace for a long moment before plugging his phone in on his night stand and rolling over, attempting to get some kind of rest before school the next day, and meeting Akira.  

He did not get much sleep at all that night.

Chapter Text

The next day was a stressful affair.  All the Thieves had to attend school and pretend that nothing was amiss to try and avoid suspicion, but the lack of sleep and worry over what seemed like everything happening in his life hampered any attempt Yusuke made at painting.  A message from Futaba before she crashed to sleep early in the morning had let them all know Akira was safe, but there was so much more to worry about.  He stared into a mostly blank canvas, with only a few bird silhouettes, trying to tune out the news broadcast that a group of girls were watching on a phone.  It was about the capture of the Phantom Thieves’ leader.  The police had not released his identity, but had let some details of his life out, such as his prior arrest.  Yusuke idly wondered if those who knew Akira outside of the Phantom Thieves would be able to connect the dots.

Yusuke’s exceptionally distant mood and lack of painting attracted attention.  Unable to lose himself in painting, he caught whispers, wondering if something had happened between him and Rin, as she was still not in class.  Even the substitute art teacher checked in with him, assuring him that it was okay to have a slow day now and again, as long as he kept up his normal pace of work.

Yusuke had never given much thought to the Kosei staff’s expectations beyond keeping his scholarship, but now he could see what Rin saw in all the adults in her life: the expectation of greatness and hard work could be suffocating.

After school let out, he wanted to check in with Rin, but professor Aisaka had assured him she would handle getting her back in classes, so he decided to head straight to the meeting.  On his train ride over to Leblanc, the news station roundtable that was discussing the Phantom Thieves broke the story from the police that the “the leader of the Phantom Thieves has committed suicide while in police custody.”

They had all known that this was Akechi’s plan, but to see the news reporting that Akira was dead when he was safe in Yongen-Jaya made Yusuke stop in his tracks.  It was one thing to plan an elaborate ruse like this, and another to see the police, media and public all fall for a trick concocted by seven teenagers and a cat.

The Phantom Thieves' meeting that night was a triumph and a sobering reminder of the stakes of their battle.  Akira had survived the encounter and escaped with the help of Makoto's sister, and judging from the way the news had reported about the their leader's 'suicide' in police custody, not a single one of the corrupt government or police agents had any idea that Sae had smuggled him out and fudged the documents needed to cover it up.  

But, they had miscalculated on something, and it was something Makoto blamed herself for.  When preparing for Yusuke’s visit with Madarame, they had discussed how the police held the Phantom Thieves in contempt, but had thought that the high-profile nature of their crimes would mean that the leader of the Thieves would be given a fair trial and sentence, and they had been catastrophically wrong.  The ones holding Akechi's leash had been eager to sweep everything under the rug, and used the police's contempt to do that: they had treated Akira horribly.  They had beaten him, drugged him, all but tortured him to get a confession out of him.  The Thieves' plan had almost not worked, as Akira was so addled by the the effects of the drugs they injected into him that he had almost been unable to convince Sae to aid them and help him escape.

“Most of the time, I could barely remember where I was, much less what I was supposed to do,” Akira admitted, as Sojiro gingerly eased him down into one of the booth seats.  “But recounting my entire year in Tokyo to Sae-san certainly helped jog my memory.”

They explained their plan to the incredulous Sae and Sojiro while they sat in Leblanc.  How they had suspected Akechi of foul play and bugged his phone to confirm their suspicions, and how areas of a Palace outside of the distortion looked just like the real world, which had given Makoto and Futaba an idea.  Once Sae had seen Akira in the special interrogation room, a cognitive duplicate had appeared in the same room inside the police station in Sae's Palace to reflect her perception.  From there, Futaba had used her remote access to Akira and Akechi's phones to slide Akechi into the Metaverse while he was distracted, where he killed the mental projection of Akira, then walked away to report to his boss, none the wiser.  Meanwhile, Sae worked to smuggle Akira out in the real world, then carefully moved to ensure no one would check the morgue for a body, and passed several documents around for the conspiracy keep suspicion low, such that no one looked too closely at the facts before driving Akira to Leblanc.

The most elegant plans always have some part about them that fails, Yusuke thought, as they reviewed what had gone wrong.  That it still worked despite that is was made it art.  What did that American TV painter say?  ‘Happy little accidents’?

As it stood, they had learned much, but also been set back some amount.  In speaking to his employer, Akechi has slipped up and mentioned his name, and from the bug on his phone they had learned that he worked for a man named Shido.  Sae and Sojiro instantly knew who he was, and a quick internet search let Futaba fill everyone in: Masayoshi Shido was the current Minister of State for Special Missions, and was forming a new party to run for prime minister.  He was a new-age politician, running on a platform of public reform.  His message was a popular one: that Japan had been failed by its aging bureaucrats, who could not act to keep the public safe or happy.

Even Shido's look was part of his message.  Futaba pulled several public photos of him, and they crowded around her laptop and looked as Akira reclined in one of the restaurant booths.  Shido eschewed the traditional plain black suit of a politician and instead wore an open suit jacket, a dress shirt with no tie, blue jeans and rich brown belt and shoes.  His head was shaved bare, with a small patch of facial hair on his chin, and orange sunglasses that hid his eyes.  All in all, he looked exactly like what one would imagine from his political messaging: a casual, yet determined politician, fed up with the old men and red tape all over Japan, a “man of the people.”  It struck a perfect balance between "traditional for those seeking stability," "radical for those seeking change" and "political strongman for those seeking leadership."

But, once one knew about the Metaverse and mental shutdowns, everything about him began to invert.  The accidents caused by the mental shutdowns Akechi had caused had led to several prominent government officials resigning, making the current government weaker, a perfect target for Shido's messaging.  All the political opponents who could have stood against him had been rocked by scandals as they or their allies suffered psychotic breakdowns via the Metaverse, removing competition and furthering distrust in the government.  Shido had engineered a crisis of no-confidence in the government with the Metaverse, then stepped in to sell himself as the solution to his own problem.  He had even shifted the blame for mental shutdowns onto the Phantom Thieves, and exerted political pressure that they be captured, and now claimed responsibility for the capture of their leader in order to propel himself to the top of every election poll, just one month shy of the election.  Once you knew what to look for, everything about the state of Tokyo began to make sense.

Yusuke had grudgingly thought that Madarame's dual-faced persona was well-made, but Shido's scheme put it to shame.  It was so grandiose, so masterfully constructed that he could not help but admire the skill of it, even as he was repulsed by the means he had used to build it.  Shido could not be allowed to become prime minister of Japan.

That Shido was the mastermind of the conspiracy was what they had learned, but what had set them back was visible in their wincing and occasionally moaning leader.  Akira had endured worse treatment than any of them had imagined, and was now bedridden for some time, by order of the physician who had supplied them with so much medicine for their Metaverse excursions: Dr. Tae Takemi.  She had been quite clear that Akira should have several weeks of bedrest for his injuries, but Akira had argued her down to one week, and from there she was unwilling to go any lower.  So, while they had their new target in sight, infiltrating without their leader was going to be problematic.

(Bedrest at the very least wasn't a problem, as Akira would be staying at Leblanc and skipping school during the day to help fake his death.)

To make matters worse, they were stumped on Shido's palace.  It was no surprise that he had one (located at the Tokyo Diet Building, naturally,) but they were unable to identify the distortion.  They had no clues into the real psyche of the man, just the endless politically convenient answers given in every interview.

"This may be a blessing in disguise," Akira said, from his reclining position on his bed, while the Thieves were scattered about the attic.  "Guessing at Shido's distortion gives me something to do while stuck in bed all day."

"I hate that we gotta wait," Ryuji said, fist clenched on the workbench in the corner.

"Me too, Ryuji," Akira sighed.  "I always thought I'd be the kind of person to fight through my grievous injuries and keep going, even when everyone told me to rest.  But it turns out bruised ribs hurt way more than I thought they would."

"Also, Dr. Takemi was quite insistent about Akira getting a full week of bed rest. Her glare sent a chill down my spine," Haru said, sounding oddly excited by the memory.

They all milled about for an hour or so, guessing at Shido's distortion, before deciding to disperse for the day.  Yusuke knew this was the time to discuss Rin's Palace with Akira, so he accepted Sojiro's offer of curry to hang around Leblanc until they could speak privately.  He discreetly texted Akira, asking to speak with him, and Akira accepted.  Yusuke finished his curry, and helped Sojiro clean up the café in lieu of Akira.  Sojiro told him to lock up when he was done, and left the café to the two boys and the cat.

Yusuke climbed the stairs to the attic, and situated a chair next to Akira's bed.  Morgana was sitting by his legs, eyes tracking Yusuke as he dragged a chair over to the bedside.  

"What did you want to speak about, Yusuke?" Akira said, still reclined, but with a wedge of pillows beneath his torso and head, in the rough approximation of a hospital bed.

“It’s about my friend, Rin,” Yusuke said, and launched into a brief explanation of what had happened; her lack of self-care, her mental distress and her inability to focus on anything but her gallery showing.

“That’s all really concerning,” Morgana said as Akira just listened.  “But she’s getting help now, right?”

“Theoretically, but what’s most alarming of all is this,” Yusuke said, showing his version of the Metanav with Rin’s Palace located to Akira and Morgana.

Rin Tezuka / Kosei High School / Scrapyard

Both of their eyes widened.

“That’s not a good sign,” Morgana said, quietly.

“We spoke with her Shadow, but for her to progress to a full-blown Palace in just four months…” Akira trailed off.

There was a moment of silence before both Akira and Yusuke’s phones buzzed.  They checked them only to find a message in the Phantom Thieves group chat.

Oracle: inari’s art friend has a palace?!

Yusuke stared at his phone as Akira heaved a great sigh.  “I really need to talk to her about all the listening devices and bugs,” Akira said, before joining the chat. 

Panther: Wait, is this about Rin-san?

Oracle: yeah

Joker: Futaba, this was supposed to be a private discussion between me and Yusuke.

Oracle: that would have lead to all of us having to do something eventually

Oracle: i just saved us a few steps

Queen: I’m sorry, what is happening?

Fox: Since the cat is apparently out of the bag, I’ll be plain.  My friend at Kosei, Rin Tezuka, has been suffering from stress, expectations of those around her, and many other issues.  A few of us spoke with her Shadow over the summer, but her problems seemed manageable.

Fox: What I missed in the intervening months was that her Shadow continued to distort, and I discovered that she now possesses a Palace, located at our school.

Skull: For real?  The armless artist girl has it that bad?

Noir: Oh my.

Queen: What’s the nature of this Palace?

Fox:: I discovered it just last night, after checking the app, so I have yet to investigate, but her distortion is “scrapyard.”

Noir: That sounds… dire.  Conceiving of the school as a place where trash and waste is salvaged…

Skull: Or where wrecks are thrown to be forgotten and rust.

Oracle: yeah, none of thats a good interpretation

Panther: We need to investigate and help her!

Queen: While I sympathize, trying to tackle two Palaces at once is almost certainly beyond our abilities.

Panther: I guess…

Noir: Well it’s a good thing we aren’t working on two Palaces, then, isn’t it?

Oracle: haru’s right, we don’t even have the keywords for Shido yet

Oracle: so we aren’t really working on his palace yet

Queen: But we still have to work on finding those keywords, so we can infiltrate his Palace.

Skull: Akira can work on it while he’s stuck in bed, he said it himself.

Joker: That is true.  Even if we had Shido’s distortion, I think we’d all prefer to handle that together.

Panther: Definitely.

Joker: What that does mean, is that while I work on Shido’s keyword, everyone else can see what is going on with Rin-san.

Oracle: huh

Panther: But, you’ve always been with us, Akira!  We’ve never fought through the Metaverse without you.

Joker: I believe in you all.  For one or two reconnaissance missions, you all should be more than fine.  Between each of you, you have more than enough skills to handle this.

Joker: Yusuke, she’s your friend, so I’ll leave the decision up to you again: Do you want to investigate her Palace without me?

Yusuke looked up at Akira, who was wearing a ‘Joker smirk’ that was only slightly inhibited by his still-bruised and swollen cheek.

“You would leave a decision like this up to me?” Yusuke asked.

“It’s pretty obvious how much you care about her, Yusuke,” Akira said. “If we can’t work on Shido’s Palace, helping her is the next best thing we can do, if you want to do it.”

Yusuke thought for a very long moment, before typing his answer.

Fox: Yes, I think we should see what her Palace is like.  See what animates it, try and determine what drove her psyche to this point.

Fox: See if there is some way to set her on a better path before we have to handle Shido.

Joker: All in agreement to investigate Rin’s Palace while I troubleshoot Shido’s distortion?

Noir: I agree!

Panther: Let’s do this!

Skull: Hell yeah!

Oracle: lets do it

Queen: It does seem like the best use of our resources.  I’m in.

“Hey, I’m part of this team too!” Morgana said, reading Akira’s phone.  “But I also say yes.”

Joker: Morgana also agreed.

Panther: It’s decided, then!  Should we meet up outside Kosei tomorrow?

Fox: That’s probably the best idea.

Queen: Are you sure you want to just sit around and brainstorm Shido’s keyword all week, Akira?

Joker: I’ll tap Sojiro for some ideas.  He seems to know Shido, if only a little.

Skull: And maybe that reporter lady you met.

Oracle: and old man tora

Joker: See?  Even more great ideas.  Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.

Noir: As long as you stay still and get your bedrest, Akira-kun.

Noir: If you don’t… we’ll have to talk.

Joker: …yes ma’am.  

Yusuke looked up from his phone.

“Even if we can’t help her, perhaps any insight we can find will help Dr. Maruki,” Yusuke said, looking at Akira.

Akira returned an odd look.  “What do you mean?  Maruki’s gone.”

Yusuke stared at him for a moment, before sputtering out a “What?”

Akira looked guilty at his confusion.  “Yeah, sorry.  There was a whole announcement and hubbub about it at Shujin,” he said. “He was only contracted by Shujin for like six months.  He left when his contract was up, right before we went into Sae’s Palace.”

Yusuke began to feel an edge of panic creep in.  “But…” Had he waited too long?

Akira winced in pain as he adjusted his sitting position. “But he’s still in Tokyo for another month or so while he works on a big research paper.  I could contact him for you, ask if he’d be amenable to counseling another student.”

Yusuke sighed in relief.  “I’d appreciate that, Akira.”

The next day, in painting class, Professor Aisaka took Yusuke aside.

“I know I asked you to keep an eye on Tezuka-san,” she said.  Yusuke realized that he had completely forgotten he had befriended Rin at the teacher’s behest. “But she’s really focused on her upcoming gallery.”  Yusuke tried to object but she spoke over him.  “I’m concerned too, but the school counselor spoke with her old art teacher from Yamaku, and he assured us that this is just part of her process.” She smiled at him, like she thought what Rin was going through was okay. “No artist can create great art without channeling their pain.”

A lifetime ago, under Madarame, Yusuke would have agreed.  He would have accepted that what she was experiencing was the appropriate cost for art.  The meek apprentice would have deferred to his teachers and elders.

But Yusuke wasn’t a meek apprentice anymore.  He was the Phantom Thief Fox.

Aisaka patted his shoulder.  “It’s out of our hands now,” she said, and released him back his painting.  She clearly hoped to settle Yusuke's apprehension, and she had, in a way.  Yusuke was now sure that no adult would be able to help Rin; it was truly a Phantom Thief matter now.

Yusuke exited Kosei once school let out, and found the other Thieves (minus Akira) hanging around a bench and vending machine outside the school walls.

“I’m glad you were able to make it over on your own, Futaba,” Ann was saying as Futaba chugged an herbal tea from a can.

“Hey, she had me!” Morgana objected, as Futaba scratched behind his ears and they all laughed.  They turned and gave Yusuke slight smiles.

“Ready, Yusuke-kun?” Haru asked.

“Let’s get started,” Yusuke said as he withdrew his phone and pressed the ‘navigate’ button on his Metanav, and the world blurred around them, giving way to the Metaverse.

Chapter Text

The world blurred, and then resolved back into focus, and the Thieves found themselves on dirt instead of asphalt.  Their clothes had not changed, but the sky had transformed into the swirling, cloud-filled vortex they had seen previously, but there was a burnt orange color behind the clouds now.  Distantly, Yusuke thought he saw something else moving in the sky.  Pale white, flapping shapes that reminded him of a swarm of jellyfish, but he drew his eyes down to the ground.

A small stone wall around the school had become a towering, four meter tall chain link fence, complete with barbed wire at the top and strange signage with extremely gruesome faces on the fence, warning of various dangers inside.  

Behind the fence was not the school they had left behind, but towering piles of junk.  Glittering spires of orange and gray rusted iron, tarnished pale-green copper, shattered and broken concrete flowed together.  Shreds of dark, ruined fabric blended with shards of fragmented white plastic, embedded in heaps of indistinct trash as twisted car bodies splintered and  bloomed into raw scrap metal like exotic flowers.  Unseen fires deep within the grounds produced a faint glow and trails of smoke that floated up, beyond the junk and into the dark sky.  It was beautiful, in a strangely remorseful way.

Ryuji whistled softly.  "That's some set-up."  There was even more junk strewn outside the walls, in small mounds.  "Everyone got their tetanus shots?" he asked as he nudged a broken, rusted beam with his foot. 

"We'll need to get some intelligence first," Haru said, ignoring him.  "Find out what position Rin-chan's Shadow occupies."

"It's usually the boss of the organization," Futaba said, hand to her ears as her goggles appeared in a ripple of blue flames and she began to analyze their surroundings.  "Who runs a scrapyard?"

"They're usually just called 'the owner'," Ann said. 

"Perhaps Rin-san will think differently?" Morgana posited, as he hopped up on an old microwave. "Her perception and ideas about how a junkyard works will matter more than reality here."

"Indeed," Makoto murmured. "We need more info."

Yusuke looked at the team discussing this with a tiny note of pride in his chest.  Is this how Akira felt, watching them all work out what to do in each infiltration?

"How should we get that information?" Yusuke asked the group.

"Perhaps we need only ask?" Haru said, pointing towards a gate in the fence.  They all followed her finger and noticed a dark, hulking figure standing in front of it, watching them distantly.

"That's a Shadow, Noir," Futaba said, a note of humor in her voice.

"And they probably know quite a bit about how this place operates," she responded.  "The dealer Shadows in Sae-san's Palace were perfectly amicable."

"When they weren't trying to put us in colossal amounts of debt," Ann muttered.

"She's right," Makoto said. "If we're not infiltrating yet, the Shadow shouldn't have any reason to attack.  Let's see what it has to say."

The group moved closer to the gate.  Most of them hung back as Yusuke and Makoto approached the Shadow.  It was dressed in bright blue overalls and a shirt with rolled up sleeves.  It wore a bright yellow hardhat, and the mask that all shadows had was made up of welding goggles and a dust-filtering facemask.  It had no weapons, but its belt was lined with heavy-looking tools and it had a radio clipped to one of the overall straps.  The figure peered down at the two of them, watching them but otherwise not acting.  As they approached, the sounds of heavy machinery drifted over the fence: power saws, jack hammers, and other whirring, buzzing and thumping noises.

"What business do you have in the yard?" it asked when they had approached within speaking range.

"We're looking for the person in charge," Makoto said.

"The foreman is making the rounds to each team at the moment," the Shadow responded.  "She's too busy to entertain guests."

Yusuke and Makoto shared a look as Makoto mouthed 'she?' and Yusuke nodded.  It seems Rin's Shadow was the foreman.

"We need to enter the premises," Yusuke said.  "We are...contractors."

"Contractors, huh?" the Shadow said, skeptically.  "You got any credentials, 'contractor'?"

Yusuke and Makoto both stood in an awkward silence for a moment. 

"That's what I thought," it said. "Run along and find some other place to play, kids.  This isn't a playground; it will eat you alive."

Yusuke and Makoto retreated to the rest of the group, who were hiding behind a large stone slab that Yusuke recognized as a ruined version of the sign outside the school, labeling it as Kosei High.  They related what they had learned to the group.

"Well, going in the front door never really works out  anyway," Ann said.  "Are there any other ways in?"

"Yup," Futaba said, pointing far to the right of the front gate, where a huge piece of metal had been pushed against the fence from the inside and the chain link had broken slightly, leaving enough room to squeeze in.

"Seems the scrapyard is full to bursting," Morgana commented.

"I'm sensing some really powerful Shadows inside, but their signatures are strange," Futaba said, hand on her goggles again.

"Strange how?" Makoto asked.

Futaba's goggles disappeared and she shook her head.  "Prometheus can't tell.  Just that they don't seem to be as aggressive as other Shadows."

Just then, the sound of gunfire drifted over from inside the fence.  It was short, but clearly some kind of small battle had taken place.  The Thieves looked at each other.

"Are you sure about that?" Ryuji said, humorlessly.

"There's only one way to find out," Yusuke said. "Let us enter."

They all moved to the gap in the fence, each of them crawling on all fours to squeeze through (except Morgana.)  One by one, each of their forms erupted in a spray of azure flames, replacing their clothes with their Phantom Thief attire and masks.

"Well, we're definitely intruding now," Ann said, adjusting her cat mask.

Futaba hummed a little tune as they heard the faint buzzing of her scanning.  "There's a pathway there," she said, pointing to a wooden ramp.  "It leads to some scaffolding.  We should be able to get a decent overview of the Palace from higher up."

They all stood around for a moment, each of them expecting Akira to take the lead.  Makoto coughed, and Yusuke realized that he should probably be the leader, if only for this mission.

"Right," he said, "Let's go."

Yusuke led them up the wooden ramp, which turned a corner and became scaffolding like Futaba had described.  Wooden planks forming a walkway on a metal frame, suspended on poles over the mountainside of trash.  The path was uneven and rickety, occasionally incorporating pieces of the junk into the walkway, like the hood of a wrecked car, or the side of a refrigerator.

"So far, this seems like an exaggerated, but fairly ordinary junkyard," Makoto said as they navigated a switchback in the path that took them higher.

"Yeah, I'm with Queen," Ryuji said. "Besides the Shadow at the gate, this place is pretty ordinary.  Where's the distortion?"

Their question was answered as they reached a landing in the scaffolding, situated some ten meters up from the scrapyard floor.  They gazed out at a working area where Shadows in jumpsuits and welding masks moved about, tearing metal, plastic and other materials from the surrounding piles and sorting them, as other Shadows with automatic weapons stood guard around.  Yusuke's eye was drawn to piles the salvage and scrap was being sorted into.  There were three in the center of the 'valley,' but Yusuke couldn't discern any rhyme or reason as to what was placed in what pile.  Each was a mixed-up jumble of metal, whole appliances, car tires, old beer bottles and shreaded t-shirts.

"Oh my God..." Ann said.  Yusuke almost asked her what she saw, but just followed her pink-gloved hand, pointing at the other half of the scene he had yet to inspect.

It was a massive statue of Rin.  It was easily thirty meters tall, constructed out of rusted scrap metal and tarnished iron plates, it was a wonder Yusuke didn't notice it immediately.  It depicted her dressed in the Yakamu uniform, metal tie flat against her chest, her expression the Rin-standard unreadable.  It was partially set into a cliff-face of junk that came up to the small of her back behind her, with the statue itself seemingly embedded in the ground up to her thighs.  The main feature that Ann was pointing out was the massive gap in her stomach and between her legs.  The interior of the statue was apparently hollow and led to a tunnel into the junk pile.  They watched as Shadows moved in and out of the gap, pushing carts of salvage out.  Other Shadows pried at the layers of sheet metal at the statue's thighs and hips, trying to disassemble it as their compatriots wheeled loads of junk from the interior.

They all stood, rooted to the spot as they took in the sight.

"Is she… trying to destroy herself?" Makoto asked, hand over her mouth in shock

"That's sure what it looks like," Ryuji said, fists clenched around the railing. 

"She's even got Shadows doing the work for her, instead of cognitive workers, like the robots in Okumura's Palace," Morgana commented.

"Even my palace wasn't as blatant as this," Futaba said, and she had a point.  Futaba's guilt and suicidal ideation had manifested a tomb Palace, where she was meant to be laid to rest once she died.  But it wasn't quite the same thing.

"I don't think she's looking to end her own life," Yusuke said.  "As much as she's looking to reinvent herself."

"Palaces run on metaphors," Ann said, shaking her head. "And this one is pretty unmistakably one of self-loathing.  She’s literally tearing herself down."

"Who are you weirdos?" said a distorted voice to the right.  They all turned to see one of the worker Shadows walking up to the landing, red eyes glowing behind its welding mask.

“We’re um… um…” Ann tried to say, sputtering.

“Stow it, I don’t wanna know, I just want to take my break,” the Shadow replied.  They all gave each other sidelong glances, each asking the same question.

It was Futaba, though, who moved towards the Shadow and vocalized that question: “You get breaks here?” Makoto stepped forward, ready to protect her from the Shadow, but it seemed to be in a conversational mood.

“Yeah, it’s a rare gig that treats you this good,” the Shadow said, leaning on the railing and looking over the worksite below.

“You’ve worked other jobs, then?” Ann asked, keying in on the mood.

“Yeah,” it replied, tone still casual.  The energy in the air was still on a knife’s edge, almost no Shadows were this calm unless they had surrounded them in a hold up and they were talking to Akira.  A first time for everything, then.  “Worked in a bakery, then a castle when that fell through.  Boss was a total egomaniac, though.  Called himself ‘king’.”

Yusuke noticed Ryuji twitch out of the corner of his eye.

“Then when the castle collapsed, got some work at a bank,” the Shadow continued, caught up in the tale.  “That crashed too, though, so I heard a rumor about this place, and ended up working here.  First job since the bakery that I wasn’t hired for security, but I still help out with that.  Boss works us hard, but she’s real fair.”

“Any idea where she might be located?” Yusuke asked.

The Shadow turned and looked him up and down, then pointed over its shoulder to another fence gate on a hill with a large security Shadow, beyond which there was a tall structure that looked like a watchtower.  Yusuke wasn’t sure, but thought he might have made out a figure standing on the watchtower.  “She’s usually up in her office over yonder when she’s not inspecting the teams.”

Yusuke looked at the Thieves, who all nodded.  They began to slowly circle the Shadow, trying to move towards the tower it had indicated.

“You don’t seem too concerned with us,” Futaba said, not following the group.

“Eh, even if you’re from the outside, it's not really my problem,” the Shadow said. “Security’s focused on the inside.” 

Something about that sentence made the hair on the back Yusuke’s neck stand on end.  He stopped in his tracks, and turned to the Shadow.  “What do you mean by that?”

The Shadow gestured around the scrapyard vaguely.  “We’re not supposed to worry about things coming in.”   It pointed to the security Shadows with submachine guns by the statue of Rin.  “We’re supposed to keep things from getting out.”

There was silence for a moment.

“What… things?” Haru asked, hesitantly.

A wailing sound split the air.  It was some kind of alarm, or air raid siren that rang throughout the entire Palace.  Each of the Thieves jumped back and drew their weapons, and Futaba summoned her Persona to begin her analysis.  The movement in the worksite below stopped briefly, as several worker Shadows fled from the entrance to the Rin statue, as well as most of the other workers.  The security Shadows and worker Shadows that did not flee set up defensive positions behind piles of junk as a few of them jerked in place, then split into their battle forms, like they would when they attacked the Thieves.

“These things,” the worker Shadow they had been speaking to said, before its body exploded in a spray of black and red, revealing the creature inside to be a skeleton dressed like Ryuji’s Metaverse outfit, astride a motorcycle with wheels of fire.  Futaba analyzed it and labeled it an Infernal Rider.

“Duty calls, punks!” it said before it jumped the motorcycle over the railing and down the slope of junk, into the worksite.  All of the Thieves moved to the railing to watch whatever would happen next.  The warning siren cut out as they saw new Shadow forms appear from their worksite disguises.  Futaba worked fast to analyze and label them all.  There was a wolf-man in an aristocratic coat, crackling with lighting that was labeled Refined Predator, a young girl in a red hood with a picnic basket bobbed nearby, labeled Keeper of the Apples, and a most disturbing Shadow that took the form of a woman with bat wings and skin rendered yellow and green by rot, who's upper torso floated free from her legs and waist, entrails hanging between her two halves.  Futaba called it Thief of the Unborn.   

There was a terrible second where they all held their breath, and the Shadows below held their positions.

“What could they possibly be fighting?” Ann asked.

Yusuke had a guess, but did not get the chance to say.  A deep rumbling began as the noise of a stampede made its way out of the statue of Rin, which was followed by a horde bursting forth from the statue.

The Thieves had seen a great variety of strange sights in the Palaces they had been to, but what came from the statue could only be called a swarm of madness.  Each creature was unlike any Shadow they had ever encountered.  A blue horned snake with pig heads along its spine attempted to bite a Shadow in half.  A pitch-black orb with an oddly superimposed human eye at its center walked on emaciated human hands, trampling a small bird made of bones and flowers.  A yellow-skinned human head tumbled out, screaming as it feebly rolled into the Infernal Rider, who incinerated it.  A misshapen, green human form with a single giant ear growing from its chest flailed about, lunging at Shadows and its fellow creatures alike, while a pale-skinned nude man with a dozen legs growing from its shoulders and back tried to scuttle away from the horde, only to be caught by a blast of thunder magic from one of the Refined Predators.  A giant mobius stripe with the texture of a human tongue rolled and attempted to smother a Shadow.  Two screaming faces stitched together at the cheek floated above the battle, firing beams of energy from their nostrils.  What Yusuke could only describe as an undulating, folding piece of bright white cloth that hid eyes and toothy mouths in every fold of fabric fluttered about, before trying to devour a Shadow.  Yusuke noticed a single, human-sized jellyfish escape the fray, flying to join the distant swarm he had seen in the sky earlier.

“What the fuck…” Ryuji said, quietly observing the unfolding chaos.

“There are Shadows fighting… Shadows?” Makoto asked, sounding a bit queasy.

“They aren’t Shadows,” Futaba said, lines of text scrolling over her goggle lenses. “They’re cognitions.”

They sat a moment longer to watch the nightmare battle unfold.  Bursts of magic erupted all over from the Shadows, as the cognitive creatures used far more direct means of attack.

“But what are they cognitions of?” Morgana asked.

“Her art,” Haru said, solemnly.

“Her imagination,” Yusuke added. “This is what she sees when she paints.”  He pointed to several of the awkwardly proportioned, uncanny human figures, each an eerie, three-dimensional realization of one of Rin’s paintings.  

“She’s trying to kill her imagination?” Makoto asked. “As an artist?”

“She’s trying to subdue it,” Yusuke said, as one of the humanoids was obliterated in a pillar of curse magic from the Thief of the Unborn.  “She’s trying to ‘tame’ it, so she can be ‘normal.’”

There was another roar as a massive figure emerged from the statue.  It was…indistinct, made up of jittering, uneven lines, like a sketch brought to life.  The space inside its form was filled with paint stains and splashes of muddled color.  A low, thrumming scream emanated from its featureless face.

“Guys, look!” Ann shouted.  They looked toward her, then to her pointing to the gate that led to the foreman’s watchtower, and saw that the massive Shadow guarding the gate was moving towards the battle, away from its post, most likely to confront the new cognitive sketch-creature.  As it moved closer, it shed its shell like the others, forming into a gargantuan, multi-headed, eyeless snake-like creature that spat rays of curse magic and poison at the living sketch.  Futaba labeled it the Splintering Serpent.

“Now’s our chance!” Ann shouted, still pointed at the now unguarded gate.

“Move!” Yusuke ordered, and they all began to sprint at the gate, leaving the nightmare battle behind.

Beyond the gate, they found a small portable office trailer that turned out to be a safe room.  As they all took a moment to rest, Yusuke watched as the room wavered between an office and a Kosei classroom.  Yusuke idly wondered if the Palace bearing almost no resemblance to Kosei itself was a by-product of Rin’s current isolation.  Futaba’s pyramid bore little resemblance to Sojiro’s house due to her agoraphobia, and the situation seemed comparable.

There was a long moment of silence as the banter that usually filled their safe room breaks failed to materialize right away.  After witnessing the statue, and the creatures that emerged from it, none of them seemed to be in a mood to talk.

“Please don’t tell me that my Palace was this depressing,” Futaba said, finally breaking the silence as she sprawled across a desk.

“It was, but in a different kinda way,” Ryuji said. “Your Palace had all those murals showing those false memories of your mother.  But Rin…”

“It’s harder to interpret, and thus even more depressing,” Makoto finished.

“The Pyramid was so restrained,” Ann said.  “It was a monument.  This… this is a worksite.  It’s both more abstract and more direct at the same time.”

Ryuji, Ann, Makoto and Futaba descended into a discussion of the merits of Futaba’s pyramid versus Rin’s junkyard, vis-à-vis Palaces of trauma.  (Futaba approached discussions of her former Palace with an odd kind of detachment and frankness that gave him hope Rin might be able to look back on this part of her life similarly).  

Meanwhile, Morgana and Haru sat next to Yusuke on the folding chairs scattered around the office.

“Have you thought about what you’ll say to Rin-chan’s Shadow?” Haru asked.

Yusuke was ashamed to say he hadn’t.  “Not really,” he admitted.  “I imagined that seeing the Palace would give me inspiration, but it’s only made me lose my words.”

“We spoke with her Shadow over the summer,” Morgana said. “Anything about her progression from then to now might be a place to start.”

Yusuke hung his head and massaged his temples.  He was far and away one of the worst of the Thieves to try and talk someone out of their troubles, but he being the one who knew Rin the best of them meant it would have to be him.

“We should get moving,” he said, raising his voice to break up the debate the others were still having.  They made sure the safe room was registered on the MetaNav (as “Middle Manager’s Office”) and set off for the tower.  The battle at the main worksite seemed to have ended, with regular machinery sounds emanating from the other side of the fence.

They arrived at the tower after a few minutes of dodging security Shadows.  Though the worker they had spoken with had not objected to their presence, they decided not to try their luck, and stuck to staying out of sight.  The tower was like a park or forest ranger’s lookout tower: eighty percent criss-crossing scaffolding, and stairs until what looked like a small cabin or office at the very top.  Even from the ground, they could see a silhouette watching them from the railing around the top level.

“I don’t think there’s much sneaking up on her,” Ryuji said, looking at the figure.

“Given what we’ve seen of the Palace, she probably won’t object to us being here, if we remain cordial,” Haru said.

“We’ll see,” Makoto said, as they followed Yusuke up the rickety staircase, single file.

Minutes later, they had not encountered any security Shadows on their trek up the stairs, and had arrived at the balcony that surrounded the office.  The office door was locked shut when Ryuji tried it, so they circled around the corner, only to see the same figure they had spotted earlier, still peering out over the rest of the Palace.

Shadow Rin had changed since Yusuke last saw her.  She still wore the denim overalls, but the paint stains were now pitch black oils stains, and instead of sandals she had steel-toed worker’s boots.  Yusuke realized that this was the first time he had ever seen Rin wear shoes.  Her hair seemed even shorter and scruffier somehow, now tucked under a tweed flat cap.  

But the thing that stuck out the most were her arms.

Yusuke did not see them at first, because they were not human arms.  They were prosthetics, metallic monstrosities ripped straight from a horror film, made of twisted scrap metal and repurposed industrial parts, some shiny and silver, others rusted to a red-orange hue.  They emerged from her sleeves, tearing and poking at the fabric, all sharp edges and pinching hinges.  She was gripping the railing,  but even then Yusuke could tell that the arms were oversized for her frame.

“You came back,” Shadow Rin said, not turning to face the Thieves.

Yusuke took a deep breath and turned to nod at Makoto, with a look that he hoped conveyed ‘I’ll handle this, but be ready for anything.’  Makoto nodded back, and the others hung back as Yusuke walked a few steps forward.

"I wanted to see what you've been working on, Rin," Yusuke said, deciding to take a different tactic.  "What you've made."

"Hmm," she grunted.  "Not much.  Been busy planning.  Organizing.  Summoning.  And unmaking things.  Is unmaking things not making things, or making more nothing?"

"What happened to making better art, to being better understood?" he asked.

She shook her head; a familiar motion for Rin, but rendered unfamiliar by the Shadow's shortened hair.  "It's been pushed back; this is all prep work.  Like stretching before running, or flipping to a new page.  Or starting a new notebook."

Yusuke grasped the simile.  "But you can always paint over a canvas, Rin.  No need to destroy it."

She turned and stared at him with her sickeningly bright yellow eyes.  "Not forever.  Eventually, you need to scrape it all off.  You can't un-mix colors, Yusuke.  You have to start over."

"Is that what this is?" he asked, gesturing at the junkyard, as the Shadows worked to disassemble a representation of Rin.  "Cleaning the pallet?  Scraping the canvas?"

"No, this is a scrapyard," she said, like it was obvious.  "We have to clean it out, figure out what's worth keeping.... and what should be destroyed.  I thought I destroyed myself, before.  But I didn't.  I was too scared to.  I'm still scared.  I need help to do it…"

"I would be scared to destroy myself too, Rin," Yusuke said, trying to sound comforting.  "But why is it so necessary?"

"It's the only way," she says, mumbling. "It's the only way.  No one understands.  I don't understand.  So, if I want people to look at my art, and say, 'I understand how you feel.'  I need to make things other people will understand.  So, it all has to go."

Yusuke felt a pit form in his stomach as he began to understand the depth of her distortion.

"Everything I don't understand has to go," she said, waving her metal hand about.  Tiny shrieks, the sound of unoiled joints emanated from it as she flexed her sharp, serrated fingers.  "If I can remove everything I don't understand, then maybe it will be bearable."

"What will be bearable?" he asks.

"Being Rin."  Her voice was quiet.  Small.  Defeated.

“I’ve never been anyone else, but maybe I will have to be,” she continued.   “Maybe it’s the only way to stop the noise.  To stop the endless requests and demands from the adults, and to stop the cycle of interest and rejection from everyone else.”

Shadow Rin had an eloquence that real Rin lacked, and Yusuke slowly realized what she was talking about.  The demands of her teachers, losing friends when she listened to them, it was all a cycle: one he heard about from Emi and Hisao, and one he saw repeat itself while she’d been at Kosei.  She’d work herself to the bone to meet the expectations of those above her, and when everything else in her life inevitably suffered, she couldn’t articulate the pain she was in.  

And Yusuke has been complicit in this, from her perspective.  He’d left her in the hands of adults who didn’t even try to see things from her perspective.  Every cry for help to him had been ignored.  She’d been asking for his help in the only way she knew how: her art.  That swirling, gray and red spiral that she was painting when Hisao visited, so similar to his painting Desire, had been a plea: I’m trapped where you were, Yusuke.  Please, tell me how you got out.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you,” Yusuke said, before he could think of anything else.

“It’s okay,” Shadow Rin said, “If we can finish this job,” she gestured to the statue, “Then it will be okay.  I just need more time. More help.  He will arrive soon…”

“That’s not the answer!”

All present were stunned by the passion of the voice, coming not from the two who had spoken so far, but from Futaba.  “I thought I would be okay if I could just hole myself up too, Rin! But I needed friends to help me out of it!  I needed to stand up for myself, against my own instincts and move forward!”

Shadow Rin stared at Futaba, who had stepped closer in her outburst.

“Oracle!” Makoto hissed, but Futaba ignored her.

“The only thing you need to change is thinking you’re not worthy of love just the way you are!  That you can’t live your life without some big, dramatic upheaval!” she near-shouted.

Yusuke flinched at the sound of bending metal, as the guard rail crumpled in Shadow Rin’s iron grip.  Her yellow eyes looked pained, but there was a smile on her face, like it was something she desperately wanted to believe.

“Do you think that too, Yusuke?” she asked, her voice low.

“I do,” he replied, his resolution set. “You are enough, Rin.”

The Shadow reached out with her metal hand, and grabbed Yusuke by the scruff of his outfit, pulling him in close.  The other Thieves moved to act, but Futaba spread her arms and held them back.

“Then make her believe it too,” the Shadow said, and released him.  They stared into each other’s eyes a moment more, and Yusuke understood: he needed to speak with the real Rin.

“I will,” Yusuke said.  “Will you wait until then?”

The Shadow nodded.  “For as long as I can.”

A strange, echoing shift sounded through the Palace, as they all felt the tower shudder slightly.

“Something is coming,” Shadow Rin said.  “You should go.”

Yusuke smiled and nodded at Shadow Rin, as the Thieves made a quick retreat.

All except Futaba.  She stayed behind, until they were alone.

“I know what this is like,” Futaba said. “I hope we can be friends someday.”

The Shadow gave her a very small smile.  “So do I.”

Futaba nodded, then turned to sprint to catch up with her comrades.

After the Thieves had retreated to the safe room, and then to outside the Palace and Metaverse, they caught their breath at the bench they had left from.

“That’s the weirdest Palace we’ve been in, by far,” Ann said, before cracking open a Nastea from the vending machine.

“I’ll say,” Ryuji said. “Did you… recruit her Shadow, Yusuke?”

“It’s quite possible,” Yusuke said. “Though I think Futaba deserves more credit than me, ultimately.”

Futaba blushed as she curled up, crouching like a gargoyle on the bench.  “Just… everything she was saying about herself felt so familiar… and I remembered when my own Shadow showed me what I was missing…”

“That makes sense,” Morgana said.  “Her Shadow’s reticence in her role in the Palace was a lot like yours.”

“I guess…” Futaba said. “I just felt like I had to say something, like it was like a quick-time event I almost missed!”

Ann and Ryuji laughed at what Yusuke assumed was some kind of gaming reference.

“So, what now Yusuke?” Makoto asked.

Yusuke thought for a moment.  “I’ll try and spend time with her, convince her, like we did her Shadow.  And I tell a therapist all I can about her issues.”

“Is that therapist Dr Maruki?” Haru asked.

“That’s the plan,” Yusuke said.  “At any rate, we’ve done all we can for Rin in the Metaverse.  We should focus on Shido from here on out.”  They decided to break for the day and head home.  Yusuke walked Futaba and Morgana back to Yongen-Jaya.

As they neared Leblanc, Futaba asked Yusuke, “Do you really think that her Shadow can help her change her attitude?”

Yusuke smiled down at her.  “I do.  I believe in Rin.”

In the junkyard Palace, Shadow Rin confronted the newest Shadow to arrive.  He was far, far more powerful than any of the workers or security Shadows she had hired to work there.

He was as twice as tall as she was, with blue skin and many, many arms, each holding an object.  One hand spun a ring, another gripped a trident, another held a horn, yet another a daramu drum.  He was dressed in sparse furs about his waist, with green cobra snakes draped over his arms and around his shoulders. His wavy black hair was partly bound in a tight knot, but the rest tumbled loosely around his shoulders.  He sat, cross-legged in mid-air next to the foreman’s office tower, staring down at Shadow Rin.

“I regret to inform you we are no longer in need of your services, Destroyer,” Shadow Rin said, bowing deeply.

“So, you have reconsidered your choice?” the blue-skinned man asked. “You believe this world still has merit?”

“I do,” she replied. “I know that I can save it.”

The blue-skinned man made a sound that could be of amusement or of respect, it was impossible to tell.

“Very well,” he said. “Let us hope your other half agrees. I shall return to the Sea of Souls, until another world requires rebirth.”

The man vanished in a pillar of light, and Shadow Rin smiled tightly.

“I know she will.  I believe in Rin.”

Chapter Text

December rapidly became a very busy month for the Phantom Thieves.  They discovered the keyword for Shido from Akira, and set out to infiltrate his cruise ship Palace.  It was the largest and most deadly Palace they had ever encountered, and it demanded many, many trips as they made incremental progress.  In between infiltration trips Yusuke tried to make time for Rin and Kawanabe’s contest.  The piece he created for the contest, a bright, shining, golden inversion, painted atop his original gallery piece was a much stronger composition, and he named it Desire and Hope to contrast with the original.  Rin accepted his invitation, though she said little and distantly wandered the show, looking both lost and determined.    

Kawanabe spoke with him, revealing that he had also been under Madarame’s thumb, and had invited Yusuke to the competition as a way to try and make up for his former friend’s awful behavior.  He offered a place at his foundation to Yusuke again, but he declined, having found his own place to belong with the Phantom Thieves.

Akira even managed to attend the showing, hidden in a gray hoodie.  His praise for Yusuke's work warmed his heart.  As he gazed at his completed piece, taking in all the contradictions of the human heart he had sought to capture in his piece, Goemon spoke to him in the back of his mind.

You have unlearned all the Director sought to instill in you, and have made yourself into a fine thief, as I always knew you would, his Persona said.

I couldn't have done it without you, Yusuke thought back.

Indeed!  Goemon responded with a hearty mental laugh. And just as you have grown, it is time for me to change as well.

Yusuke could feel his Persona evolve in his heart, as the gallant rogue Ishikawa Goemon became the lord of storms, the god exiled from the heavens, Kamu Susano-o.

Now our true work begins, his new Persona said. For your allies in thievery, and the arts.

Rin stares into the blank canvas, wondering what has changed.

Her ability to paint has disappeared in recent weeks.  Before, she would paint and paint and paint, without sparing a thought to the rest of the world, or even what she was painting.  The act of creation, of sacrifice was all that mattered.  Now, there is nothing when she tries to lose herself.  Her heart no longer wants to be understood through painting, is what it feels like.  When she wants to paint something specific, like a bowl of fruit or a Yamaku student, she can manage, but when she tries to lose herself in the creation of something new, to tear down the clouds and touch the infinite, something is barring her way.

She wonders how long it will take to remove this obstacle, like all the others.

"Did you hear me, Tezuka-san?"

Then there's the other obstacle, the one sitting in her room.  The doctor friend of Yusuke's who's come to speak with her, apparently at Yusuke's request.

Yusuke has become a real busybody in the last few weeks.  He brought Hisao to her room, he told the painting teacher to talk to her, he keeps visiting her and trying to speak with her.

The time for talking is long past.  She's trying to create the new Rin, but his concern is holding her back.  This art show is all matters, her best shot at rising and remaking herself, and he keeps swooping in, trying to anchor her.

What's wrong with this Rin?  Why do you need to make a new one?

The thought floats into and out of her head, like a whisper in her ear from an unwelcome guest.  Of course she needs to make a new Rin, the current one is… lacking.

"Tezuka-san?" the doctor asks again.

"Sorry," Rin says. "I was thinking of something else." She isn't really sorry.  This doctor is annoying.

He is so casual that Rin assumes it is an act.  His carefully unbrushed, wavy flop of brown hair, the stubble that speckles his chin, his leather sandals and lab coat with a juice box poking out of the pocket, the way he half-tripped as he entered her room, it all seems just a bit too… friendly.

Rin knows of mental doctors, therapists and others, but she's never seen one, outside the occasional visit to various school counselors.  Mother and Father gave dark looks whenever they were mentioned, so Dr. Maruki is her first impression, and he feels remarkably disarming, in a very calculated way, just like Nurse at Yamaku.

"Well, I was wondering if we could start with something you enjoy," Maruki says, and he gestures around with his arm.  "I can see you probably enjoy painting."

"Probably," Rin responds, realizing the more she engages with him, the faster he will leave.  As tempting as it is to sit and give non-answers, she needs to talk to him.  "I guess I like painting.  It's all I'm good at."

"Surely it can't be the only thing," Maruki says.

"I'm bad at everything else I've tried," she responds 

He leans back and scratches at the stubble on his chin.  "How many other things have you tried?"

The realization hits Rin like a wrecking ball.  She hasn't tried much else.  She showed she was fairly good at painting in middle school, and it's been all she focused on since.  She wanted to try writing, to try cooking, maybe try music or stargazing, but everyone in her life told her she should paint.

It’s not that she doesn’t like painting, but she doesn’t really know what else she likes.  Or rather, as an image of Hisao passes through her mind, what else she likes that she can have.

“I didn’t mean that quite so aggressively, I apologize,” Maruki says.  They fall back into an awkward silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at talking,” Rin says, and now she is sorry.

“No worries, if you need a moment to think, you can take it,” he says, as he gets up from Rin’s stool and stretches.  “I think that two people can spend a lot of meaningful time together, even if they don’t say much.  There’s so many ways to communicate, talking is only one of them.”

The way he says things with perfect clarity that Rin has only felt hurts.  She feels stupid and small for not thinking of those things first.

You didn’t need to say them.  People can understand your feelings. And if you let them, they can help you understand them.

Again, her own voice echoes in her head. Rin does not often think in words, or speak to herself in her head, but she’s been hearing it more and more these past weeks.

“Oh, I almost forgot to offer you a snack!” Maruki says, rummaging in his pockets, pulling out the juice box and a cookie.  He pierces the juice box with the straw and unwraps the cookie, placing them all on Rin’s nightstand, right next to her.  “If it’s okay with you, Tezuka-san, could I take a look at some of your work?”

“Uh-huh,” Rin nods absently, looking at the juice and cookie set on her nightstand.  They do look good, and he even set the cookie on top of the wrapper to give her something to hold it by.  Rin is not one for sweets, but just one cookie and juice box seems about right at the moment.  As she manipulates each of the snacks with her feet, she looks on as Dr. Maruki browses her canvases, and reflects on how he gave her the snacks.  

He placed the straw in the juice, and unwrapped the cookie, but didn’t do any more.  It strikes Rin as a gesture of both kindness and confidence.  Just as he said, you can often say things without speaking, his gesture seems to say, “I know you might have trouble, so I’ll start things for you; but I believe you can manage the rest.”  So many of her interactions with other people revolve around a kind of assumed helplessness, she barely has a chance to ask for help before it’s thrust upon her, most assuming that without arms she can hardly do anything.  She likes that Maruki left her the option of asking for help or not.  It’s… nice. 

But there's something about the way he looks at her that she can't place, and it bothers her.  It's a familiar look, but one she can't quite recognize on his new face.

As he makes his way around her room, inspecting each piece and making quiet comments about the emotions of the art.  He stares oddly at the knight’s helmet with iridescent lines forming eyes on it (she added a golden halo recently) and the golden cup and floating eyes above the city, like he almost recognizes them, but moves on.  He eventually stops in front of the painting of Hisao.  He’s facing away, so Rin cannot see his face, but he reaches up and touches the spot on his own chest where she painted Hisao’s scar.

He’s still in your thoughts for a reason.  That painting means something.

“Can I ask you something, doctor?” Rin says after finishing her juice.

He turns from the painting, and looks at her.  “Of course.”  He returns to the stool, sitting by her bed.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks.

Maruki tenses up, then sighs deeply.  He looks down, his eyes hidden by the reflections in his glasses.  “Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

Even Rin can see that the question is a source of pain and consternation for him, but she needs to ask while she can.

“I’m not good with feelings,” she says. “I feel them, but I can’t name them, sometimes I can’t tell them apart.  I want to ask, if it’s okay… what does love feel like?”

Maruki exhales, for a long moment.  “I don’t know that I’m the right person to ask, Tezuka-san.”  He looks up, staring both at her and past her.  “Much smarter people have written much better things than me on the subject.”

“I don’t want to hear their words,” Rin says, shaking her head.  “I want to hear yours.”

Maruki removes his glasses, and looks away for an awkward moment, tapping his glasses on his arm, before returning them to his face.  “I was in love.  I still am, but we aren’t together anymore.  For her to be happy, we had to be apart.  And… I loved her more than I wanted to be with her… so I had to leave.”

It sounds so much like her and Hisao.  The sad, smart, quiet, broken-hearted boy who tried harder than anyone else to understand her, and still felt short.  The boy who will not leave her thoughts, but who she doesn’t deserve…

“And…what does that kind of love feel like?” Rin asks.

“It… it hurts,” he says.  “It’s a good kind of hurt, though, the kind that keeps you on the right track.  I think love, every type of love, hurts.” He gives her a small, sad smile, and holds up his fingers with a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger.  “Just a little bit.  Love is a wonderful, beautiful, and sweet pain, the only kind worth feeling,” he taps his chest, “deep in your heart.  If you can’t stop thinking about someone, and it hurts, that’s a kind of love.”

Love is the sweetest pain.  A heart-ache that lifts you up.

“So, let me ask you,” Maruki continues.  “With that description, have you ever been in love, Tezuka-san?”

She looks down at her feet and rubs them together.  "Yes."  She glances over at the painting of Hisao.

Maruki follows her gaze back to the painting.  "But it didn't last?" he asks.

"No, it didn't," she says.  "And it hurts so much."

"Sometimes, that pain is worth it," Maruki says, shifting oddly on the stool, planting both his feet flat on the ground and leaning towards Rin.  "But sometimes it isn't.  Do you... feel like it's worth feeling?"

Always.

"I don't know," Rin says, looking up to meet his gaze.  His eyes are so sad... but there's something else in there, too.  Purpose?  Resolve?

"If you could forget all of it and move forward with a clean slate, would you?"  There is something odd in his tone of voice.

Rin hesitates.  She can't forget Hisao, but if she could... would it be better?  To leave all the love and pain and warmth and guilt behind?

"Maybe," she says, still locked with his eyes.  "If I could, then... maybe."

"Perhaps this is for the best, then," Maruki says.

Rin's gaze slips past his eyes, as her whole world blurs.  Her vision and thoughts and memories grow indistinct, and she can feel something sifting through her emotions and regrets and doubts, searching for something to change...

For just one split second she can see a golden cross behind Maruki, the entrails of a thoughtless god spilling out of it, and she can feel a cosmic force urging her to forget...

Suddenly, the voice she has been hearing as a whisper in the back of her head screams.

NO!

Rin jerks her head, and her mind snaps back into relative clarity.  She looks back at Dr. Maruki, and he's... surprised.  Shocked, even.

At this exact moment, Rin finally realizes what it is about the way he looks at her that is so familiar: he's looking at her like she's a problem to be solved.  A puzzle that he can complete, if he is smart enough.  He wants to fix the broken girl, just like every other adult.

Rin isn't sure what just happened, but the anger and indignation that just flashed through her mind are real.  She's not sure what expression she's wearing, staring down Maruki, but his expression is one of quiet interest and sickening sympathy. 

And Rin is done with their sympathy.

Maruki casually checks his watch.  "I think that's all the time we have for today, Tezuka-san."  He stands up from the stool.  "I'll be in Tokyo for another few weeks, so if you want to talk again, just tell Kitagawa-kun."

"Goodbye," is all Rin says in response as he exits her room and closes the door.

She needs to paint.

A week later, Rin follows Chika on an expedition around Shibuya for early Christmas shopping.  Chika had wanted company, and Rin wanted to get something for her and for Yusuke.  She decided to shop with Chika for ideas for Yusuke, and then get her gift for Yusuke alone, since Chika would undoubtedly spoil the surprise if she knew.

They are strolling around the edge of the central crossing, Chika admiring the new red gloves that Rin bought her, and Rin in the green beanie and scarf that Chika bought her.

They stroll past one of the massive screens showing a news presenter, who is talking about the Phantom Thieves, and how they have not done anything since their leader killed himself in jail.  Chika makes a face.  She never swayed from her faith that the Phantom Thieves were in the right, even when the fast food CEO died.  Rin is about to ask her about it, try to distract her, when the screen breaks into static, and the bright red top hat and mask of the Phantom Thieves appears.

Confusion ripples through the crowd, as the same image appears on every screen in the crossing.  The entirety of Shibuya slows and eventually stops to watch.

“Yo! What is UP everybody?”

The voice coming from the broadcast is masked with some kind of filter, but the enthusiasm calls to mind a bouncing leg and bright, bleached, spiky hair.  Rin doesn’t really know why it does, but she continues to listen, as Chika’s smile grows wider and wider.

“We are the ones who you all know as the Phantom Thieves.”

That voice, though, is unmistakable to Rin.  It is the voice of her lunches last spring, of her painting partner and best friend at Kosei.  No amount of electronic distortion can hide Yusuke’s voice.

“Ohmygod!” Chika blurts out. “They’re back!  And they’re hijacking the news, just like a movie!”

“So, before we appropriate our next target, we would like to first borrow your time!”

This new voice makes Rin think of sweet parfaits and blonde pigtails.  Even though Rin is able to identify the voices, she does not initially put it all together.  She thinks that, perhaps Yusuke and his friends are secret Phanboys and Phangirls, that they are showing their support.  But as the visual of a mischievous cat-bomb exploding loops again the voices explain their motives as if they are the Phantom Thieves. They say that they were framed, and are about to reveal the identity of who framed them, when the broadcast cuts out.

“No!” Chika shouts, along with half the crossing.  Rin uses this moment to reflect.  Surely, Yusuke can’t be one of the Phantom Thieves who steal hearts.  It’s just her imagination running wild again. Because if that’s true…

The broadcast returns to reveal their target as a bald politician in bad sunglasses.  Rin thinks she might have heard his name before, but the whole square gasps in shock, so he must be important. 

“Look, as you can see, all of us are alive and kickin’!”

The screen now shows back-lit silhouettes of seven figures and some kind of cat-doll, each in flashy, eye-catching outfits, with the barest hint of a mask showing on their faces.  Rin quickly scans them.  She can see the runner boy in the wide, aggressive stance of the second figure, and she recognizes the curves and bushy pigtails of the third figure as belonging to American Emi.  

But the last figure in the line makes her gasp.  Those slender legs, the way his arms fold and the sharp shoulders, it's all too distinct.  She’s spent most of the year around Yusuke, occasionally sketching him for practice, studying his posture and body shape, it is unmistakably him.  And then there’s the faint outline of a fox mask on the figure’s face.  Yusuke painted one just like it, back in the spring… right before his sensei had his heart stolen…

The evidence is mounting up very quickly, but Rin isn't sure what to make of it.  If Yusuke is part of the Phantom Thieves... What does that mean?  Is her only friend in her painting class a criminal, wanted for murder?  They say they were framed, but... Rin barely knows what feeling to trust in her own head sometimes.  This battle of conflicting accounts and police versus the Thieves is too big.  Rin hasn't much cared for the phenomenon of the Phantom Thieves, hasn't paid much attention to it beyond what Chika tells her against her will, but now she wishes she had.

"We're not gonna sit by and let some crook wreck this country just because of his goddamn ego!  Ain't that right, leader?"

The leader of the Phantom Thieves steps forward, out of the shadows. The camera is zoomed in right on his face, showing only a white domino mask, gray eyes and frizzy black hair.

"Hey, you can see his face!" another bystander cries out.

"Yes.  Before that happens, we will take this country!"

Cheers erupt from the crowd, and Chika throws her arms around Rin as she cries out in excitement.  Rin would kick her off, but she's too caught up in puzzling out what this all means.

They stop by a Big Bang Burger on the way back to Kosei, as Chika gets a meal for herself and a snack for Rin.  (Rin didn't ask, but she is feeling hungry, and Chika always seems to know when Rin should be eating, even when Rin doesn't know.)  They get a wide booth, so Rin can position the tray of fries on the seat next to her.

As Chika scrolls through her phone, checking the fallout of this Phantom Thief news with her Shujin boyfriend, Rin feels that this is as good a time as any to try and get the education on the Phantom Thieves she has previously ignored.

"So, they started at Shujin, right?" she asks

"Yeah," Chika says, finishing the bit of burger in her mouth. "Most people think they're probably Shujin students, because of their first target."

"Who was that?" Rin asks.

"Suguru Kamoshida, the Shujin volleyball coach," Chika explains.  "He was an Olympic medalist, and so he was really good for the school, but he was a huge creep who kept the whole school under his thumb.  His training for his team was beyond brutal, he tried to extort a student into sleeping with him, and he broke the leg of the star of the track team, then claimed it was self defense and got the entire team disbanded, just because he didn't want to share the spotlight!"

"Got my leg broken about a year ago, and the track team got disbanded.  Been workin’ on tryin’ to run again, but I’ve been busy,"  the runner boy had said, when Emi asked him what had happened.  Was he busy... with being a Phantom Thief?

"He was the scum of the earth, but even then the Phantom Thieves made him confess his crimes, instead of killing him," Chika continues.  "That's why I never bought those lies about Okumura.  If they didn't kill a total monster like Kamoshida right off the bat, one who was probably tormenting them specifically, why would they kill a random immoral CEO?"

Rin begins to not listen again, as she tries her best to plot out what Yusuke being a criminal means.  The Phantom Thieves... They only steal the corrupt hearts of criminals.  They want to be noble outlaws, like Ishikawa Goemon or Robin Hood.  But even if they are right... they're still criminals.

"Why the sudden interest, Rin?" Chika asks.

"It seems important," Rin says, earnestly.  The thought of Yusuke being a Phantom Thief is exciting, it's big, it's amazing.  Images of Yusuke sneaking through the shadows like a secret agent, or maybe a ninja comes to her mind, or bold declarations of true beauty and art while stealing from a corrupt museum or a villain's art hoard... 

But, like every other exciting thought, it's a distraction.  A familiar, Sensei-shaped weight settles on her heart.  The gallery showing is too important to let herself be led astray by the clouds in her head.  She's worked hard to banish all those thoughts that make her lose time or make her interest wander.  She has to focus on what's important.

And with the knowledge that Yusuke is a Phantom Thief, he brings those silly, nonsensical, dangerous thoughts with him.  The mere phrase "Phantom Thief Yusuke'' calls to mind images she can't help but love with a kind of unprofessional, uncontrollable, incomprehensible joy.  It threatens all that she has built.  Rin cannot unlearn what she now knows about him, which leaves her only one choice.

If Rin is to become a real artist, Yusuke Kitagawa has to leave her life.

Yusuke was exhausted.

Even with with the absurdly powerful Shadows in Shido's Palace, even with the bizarre mouse-statues, even with Akechi catching wise to their scheme, and confronting them in the cruise ship's engine room, revealing his goal of destroying Shido, his father, and revealing his true Persona of Loki, attacking them and then sacrificing himself to save them...

Even with Shadow Shido's impossible power and resources, and the real Shido trying to collapse the Palace on top of them, they had prevailed.

Almost.

They had changed Shido's heart, stolen the steering wheel of his ship, and with it his delusion that only he could correctly guide Japan and avoid ruin.  The election had gone through, and Shido had won in a landslide victory, but in his victory speech Shido had confessed all his crimes, breaking down while crying and screaming about his sins and how he was unworthy of office.  His aides had ended the speech, and claimed that the 'breakdown' had been the result of 'stress from the election.'  At their celebration, the Phantom Thieves, Sojiro and Sae had toasted to a job well done.

And that's when everything began to go wrong.

Like Madarame, Shido had a posse, an entire cadre of followers, appointees, conspirators and lackeys, who all desperately tried to keep the scheme he had devised going.  Unlike Madarame, though, Shido's supporters were succeeding.

Shido had disappeared from the public eye, but all of his supporters continued as if nothing had happened.  The news refused to report on Shido's 'stunt' and there was no broader investigation.  Sae reported that the new interim director of the Special Investigations Unit (another Shido plant) refused to investigate Shido's claims.

But what was more worrying than all of that was the public attitude.  Most people didn't seem to care that the prime minister elect had confessed to conspiracy, ordering assassinations, and more on live television.  Listening to the background chatter in his painting class, it was as if nothing had happened at all.  Yusuke tried to discuss it with Rin, but she refused to speak with him, focusing on her painting entirely. 

The strange public delusion that everything was fine extended so far, that many began to doubt the very idea of the Phantom Thieves, calling them a hoax, a joke, with a few people even claiming to have forgotten about them entirely or even have never heard of them on the message boards that Mishima had set up.  Considering the fever pitch the discussions around the Phantom Thieves had been at not six months ago, the shift in the last few days almost induced whiplash in Yusuke's head.

A few days after the election, after almost a week in this surreal state, they all met back and Leblanc, the night before Christmas Eve, and Sae informed the Thieves of dire news.

"It seems that plans for all of your arrests are moving ahead," she said to the assembled group.

They all expressed their surprise, but she explained: the remnants of Shido's conspiracy had consolidated enough to move forward without him, and their first priority was to ensure that the Thieves could not change anyone else's heart and unravel the scheme even further.  To that end, they were taking advantage of the bizarre public response and preparing to have all the Thieves arrested as soon as they could.

It all seemed hopeless, until Morgana proposed something.

"Mementos," he said.  The behavior of the general public had to be due to something in Mementos.  Morgana described it as a Palace-like distortion that affected everyone's Shadow.  If they could reach the end of that subway track labyrinth, then maybe they would most likely find the treasure of the public, and they could steal it.  If they could snap everyone out of this bizarrely apathetic fugue state they were in, then public pressure would force the collapse of Shido's conspiracy, and both they and Japan might be saved.

But, this plan came with a dark side.  If they stole the treasure of Mementos, then it too would disappear, like every Palace. And since Mementos was the core of the Metaverse, the well from which all Palaces sprung, it meant they would be effectively erasing the Metaverse, and disbanding the Phantom Thieves.

It was a heavy price, but each of the Thieves were willing to pay it.  If this was to be their final mission, it was a worthy cause, in Yusuke’s eyes.  They all agreed to descend into the depths of Mementos the next day, and to remove whatever they found down there.

Before leaving for the night, Yusuke pulled Morgana aside to ask a question.

“If we erase the Metaverse, what happens to those who still have a Palace?” he asked.

Morgana’s feline expression softened.  “You’re worried about Rin, aren’t you?”  Yusuke nodded. “Shadow’s aren’t bound just to the Metaverse.  If we remove it, it won’t destroy everyone’s Shadows.  Palaces and Mementos are only a manifestation of people’s hearts.  A projection, if you will.”

“So then, what will happen?” Yusuke asked.

“Most should return to their owners,” Morgana said, scratching behind his ear. “But it's impossible to know how that will affect them.  Some might resolve their issues, while it might amplify others.  I can’t say for sure, I’ve never erased an entire cognitive dimension before.”

Yusuke contemplated that for a moment, but it led him nowhere.

“You already resolved to help her in the real world, right?” Morgana pointed out. “And we can’t help her if we’re arrested and this country blindly elects a killer like Shido.  It has to happen, Yusuke.”

“I’m not doubting the necessity of it,” Yusuke replied.  “But I can’t not worry.”

Morgana meowed a small sigh.  “I guess that’s fair.”

Rin was missing from class the next day.  Before leaving to meet up with the rest of the Thieves, Yusuke dipped out of class a bit early to get his Metaverse supplies and to make a Metanav stop.  He pulled up the app and saw that Rin’s Palace was still there.  He quickly entered, and made his way across the twisted metal mindscape.  

The character of the Palace had changed.  It was no longer quite so focused.  Some of the Shadows continued to work, but the population seemed drastically reduced.  A few of the cognitive sketch-creatures wandered the yard, getting into occasional fights with lone Shadows.  Yusuke slipped by all of them with help from Kamu Susano-o, and made his way to the tower where Rin’s Shadow was.

She barely acknowledged his presence, but spoke when he approached.

“I let most of them go,” she said, still solemnly gazing out over the scrapyard. “Most left, some were determined to finish their contracts, no matter what I said.”

Yusuke stood beside her.  The Shadow seemed smaller, somehow.

“I came to say goodbye,” Yusuke said. “The Metaverse will be erased soon.”

“I know,” she said.  “We all feel it. One way or another, we all know the exile from our other selves will end soon.”

“Do you know what is at the bottom of Mementos?” he asked.

She turned to look at him.  “Something terrible.  I see it, sometimes… in my dreams.”

“If this place is erased, what will it be like, returning to Rin?”

The Shadow looked away.  “I’m not sure.  I hope it will be good, but I don’t know if she still has hope.  I hope she does.”

Yusuke looked back towards the scrapyard.  “I wanted to speak with her, but she’s been avoiding me.  If you… if you become a part of her again, could you tell her some things?”

“I can try.”

Yusuke stood and told all he wanted to say to Rin to her Shadow, and hoped that that would be enough.  Before long, he needed to meet up with the others, so he bade the Shadow farewell, and exited the Palace, hoping that his trip would make a difference somehow.  

Hope was all he had left, when it came to Rin.

Rin is out and about on Christmas Eve.  She wanted to talk to Yusuke in class, but restrained herself and stayed in her room to paint.  Now, after school, the guilt of avoiding him eats at her.  It reminds her of when she told Hisao not to come to the atelier.

She needs to be away from Yusuke to become who she needs to be, but she still wants to thank him, so she goes to get him the gift she eyed on the trip with Chika.  Chika is another thing that gnaws at the edge of her mind.  Phangirl Chika has spoken almost nothing about the Phantom Thieves since that night of the broadcast hijack.  It’s weird, but dismisses it as some ‘normal person’ thing she doesn’t understand yet. 

Rin buys the gift she wanted for Yusuke, a colorful scarf from a thrift store.  It’s all sorts of both clashing and complimentary colors, with splotches of yellow and green stripes interwoven with blue and orange faces atop a red background.

It’s perfect for Yusuke.

She returns home late at night, and sets the wrapped gift by his dorm door, hoping he will find it.  In her mind, it is a going-away gift.  She wants to see him, but doesn’t want to look at him, to be tempted into imagining another life; another path.  It’s too painful.  A Christmas gift to say goodbye, and then they are done.

She returns to her own room, and sets back to work on a painting.  The knight’s helmet has her attention again.  It’s missing something.  The layers of solid metal in front of the face have enough detail, and she’s even added the angel-winged halo that she imagined… but there’s still something else…

Suddenly, the hair on the back of Rin’s neck stands on end.  Something is happening.  The ground rumbles and Rin’s vision swims red.

The feeling passes, and Rin just begins to wonder what happened, when a sound comes from her window.  She turns and investigates.  It sounded like rain, but it couldn’t be.  It’s too cold for that.  

Rin finds a long streak of a pale red liquid running down the window.  Then a sound and another drop.  And another.  It’s raining red outside.  Rin stares out the window in quiet horror as the sky tints red and it rains crimson, and none of the pedestrians outside seem to much care.  The ground rumbles again, and a spire of bone shoots out of the street outside, to no reaction from other people.  Onyx crystal growths sprout from another building and… nothing.  Not one person on the street below points or reacts.

Rin has had a lot of disturbing daydreams, but she can’t seem to rouse herself from this one, no matter how hard she shakes her head.  All she can do is watch as the world outside goes mad.

An indescribable sound emanates from behind her.  She turns from the horror of the outside to see what caused it, and she sees… herself.

There is a second Rin in her room, but she is all wrong.  She’s dressed in Rin’s old denim overalls, but with boots and shorter hair, and a terrible cap, and twisted and sharp metal arms coming from the sleeves of her shirt that hang down to her knees.  She stares at Rin with terrible, cloudless, yellow eyes.

Rin has always disliked mirrors, because looking in them she felt that the other Rin was another person, who wanted her life, and would take it if she got the chance.

Now, she’s certain she was right.

“Who are you?” Rin asks.

“I am a Shadow,” the Other Rin responds. “The true self.”

Chapter Text

The mission to the depths of Mementos was a failure.

The Phantom Thieves had made their way to the bottom of the maze, following the endless procession of Shadows downward on the subway cars.  They expected to find a transit hub, or perhaps more tunnels, but the depths became what the Shadows called the Prison of Regression.  People's Shadows were traveling down Mementos to be willingly imprisoned.  As they passed the endless cells, each of them spoke of the same thing: the tyranny of free will, the pain of having to make decisions, and the sweet freedom of surrendering to the "system".

One of the cell blocks they passed contained the Shadows of familiar faces: Shido, Kanashiro, Madarame, and Kamoshida (though this was Yusuke's first time actually seeing Kamoshida, and he looked the part of the bully Ryuji and Ann had described.)  Each of them spoke of the same themes as the other Shadows.  Yusuke held no sympathy for Madarame, but it was still painful to listen to his Shadow wallow in apathy and regret for trying to think for himself.  He wondered if Rin's Shadow would be down here somewhere, lamenting the times she had tried to create something new, if they had actually changed her heart.  Would she, like the other Shadows, be mumbling about 'a system that grants desires?'

As they passed deeper and deeper, the atmosphere became more and more sinister, until they came to a temple.  There was no other way to describe it.  Spines and ribs of some colossal beast curled around it, and the red veins they had spotted along their journey downward all culminated there.  Walking inside, it took the form of a massive, multi-tiered panopticon; a circular arrangement of prison cells, facing inward to be viewed from a central tower.  But, in place of a tower there was... a cup.  A massive chalice, easily ten meters tall, and flanked by metallic hands.  The red veins fed directly into the dark, tarnished chalice, filling it with... something .  Undoubtedly, this was the treasure of Mementos.

The red color scheme, the chalice at the center, the foreboding character of the place... It reminded Yusuke of Rin's painting: the golden goblet flanked by chains and sinister eyes, floating over a red cityscape.  It wasn't exactly the same, but it was eerily similar.  He recalled what he knew about that painting... Rin had said it was a dream she had had...

“Do you know what is at the bottom of Mementos?”

“Something terrible.  I see it, sometimes… in my dreams.”

Had Rin been dreaming of this prison?

Yusuke stowed his thoughts and theories, and they made their way down to try and destroy the object, which turned out to be sentient and called itself the Holy Grail.  It was impossible to destroy, as any damage they inflicted was repaired by the devotion of the imprisoned Shadows, channeled into the Grail by the red veins.

With each infusion of desire the Grail gained both luster and bluster, growing from tarnished to golden, and its voice from a faint laugh, to a booming, distorted echo, proclaiming itself the master of the cognitive realm and the embodiment of the collective desire of humanity to surrender their free will and be ruled over. 

"The time for the fusion has come."

Akira seemed to recognize the voice, but before they could get any more answers out of it, the room filled with light and the Thieves felt themselves falling through space... only to land in the middle of Shibuya.

The Holy Grail had ejected them from the Metaverse.

They were all stunned and confused.  What was the Holy Grail?  And what did it mean that it could force them out of Mementos?

"Did we… lose?" Makoto asked.

That was when the nightmare began.

Yusuke felt a drop on his hair, then another on his sleeve.  He held his hand out to catch the rain, and a red drop fell on his hand.  Yusuke was horrified, but his curiosity was too strong: he rubbed it in his fingers and reached his hand to his nose to try and determine what it was.  It wasn't thick or dark enough to be blood or paint, but the smell was still metallic like blood. 

All of the thieves shouted as they realized what was happening.  Futaba yelped as a pillar of the same bone they had seen in the Depths shot from the sidewalk, narrowly missing her.  They all watched in horror as the aesthetics of the bottom of Mementos colonized the real world, as arching, rotting pieces of a skeletal serpent the size of a skyscraper soared over the buildings around them, and black, crystalline growths sprouted from the ground and nearby building edifices.

And no one cared.

The people wandering Shibuya crossing didn't react to the red sky or rain of not-blood, or the growths of stone and bone that had invaded their world.  They stood by, obliviously chatting about new products, entertainment and other pointless things, which according to one bystander included believing in the Phantom Thieves.  (In an irony Yusuke would have found amusing any other day, he even heard one person talking about how great the weather was.) 

They had only begun to comprehend what had just happened to the world, when Futaba gripped her head and collapsed to the sidewalk.  Ryuji and Ann rushed to help her up, but they too succumbed to the same pain.  One by one, all the Phantom Thieves toppled to the ground, pain shooting through their heads.  It was the most pain Yusuke had experienced since he awakened Goemon.  It felt like an ice pick had been jabbed into his head, and someone was unraveling the inside of his head by force, yanking and pulling on the threads of his mind.  Yusuke tried to steady himself, but his arm not working to hold him up revealed an even more dire danger.  

Black flames licked his arm, burning away his body.  The parts consumed by the shadowy wisps turned transparent as they faded away into nothing.  Each of the Thieves began to fade away as the dark fire ate away at their very being.  It wasn’t painful… it wasn't anything.  Yusuke felt a terrible numbness as his arm faded away, and it began to spread up his arm as the pain in his skull intensified, making coherent thoughts almost impossible.

The disembodied, booming voice of the Holy Grail rang out above them, taunting them with its victory.

“Mementos and reality have become one.  Thus, those who have disappeared from cognition cannot exist anywhere.”

With the real world now governed by the public’s collective subconscious, a ‘known’ hoax like the Phantom Thieves could not exist, and they were all experiencing the effects of having their reality revoked.

Ryuji roared in defiance, only for the black flames to overtake his entire body, silencing him as he vanished entirely.  Ann screamed in horror, before she too was removed from the world.

Yusuke saw the rest of the Thieves fading and felt his vision dim and all his senses disappear as darkness claimed him.  He thought of all those he had failed.  His teammates, Mishima, Sae and Sojiro, Kawanabe, even the reformed Madarame had put his faith in Yusuke.

And Rin.

Was I wrong to hope?

With that thought, Yusuke Kitagawa ceased to exist.

Rin stares down her Shadow.

“How can you be me when I’m me?” she asks.  Her mind is split; she figures this must be some kind of hallucination, based on all available evidence, but a part of her that can sense danger is screaming itself hoarse in the back of her mind.

“I am the other you,” the Shadow says. “I am all you deny, all you have repressed.  I have felt your delusions of self-destruction.  Your darkness created me.”   The Shadow reaches out and grabs an empty canvas leaning nearby.  Her metallic claw crushes the wooden frame, metal fingertips tearing straight through the loosely-hanging canvas, now nothing more than a collection of fabric and wood stapled together.  The Shadow flings it against the wall.  Rin stumbles back, her shoulder blades bumping against the wall and window.

“Everything you sought to destroy, I was forced to feel,” the Shadow says.  “All the pain you repressed, I felt.  Every flight of fancy you stifled, I had to follow.  Every time you stowed your regret, I was the one who missed him instead.”

The idea that the figure in front of her isn't a part of her rapidly bleeds itself out of her mind as she perfectly describes Rin's mindset these last few months.  Rin had been suppressing everything that might hinder her artistic career, everything that hurt her she had tried to discard or forget, hollowing herself out to try and make room for what she thought she would need.  

But now it all stands in front of her, throwing it all back in her face.  She could never remove the things that made her Rin, just push them so far down that they rotted and poisoned her soul, and gave birth to the thing that was looking at her with murder in its yellow eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Rin mumbles. “I just wanted not to hurt anymore.  I wanted to be something better.”

“Why?” the Shadow asks.  Rin has been asked that so, so many times.  She’s asked it of herself before, but to no avail.  

“Don’t know.” But now, with her Shadow staring her down, she knows she has to come to an answer.

“Why?” the Shadow repeats, crushing another blank canvas into splinters.

“Because it hurts too much!”  Rin’s legs give out, just like that night at the gallery.  She slides down the wall, and she feels a lump form in her throat.

“I know it hurts!” Shadow Rin’s tone rises to match her counterpart’s. “I hurt too!  WHY?”

“Because…” Rin can feel the tears begin to roll down her face.  “Because I’m stupid!”

Rin sees the Shadow stop advancing on her, but she can’t look up to see her face.

“I’m an idiot who can’t even tell what I’m feeling!  People try to love me and I only cause them pain by making them worry about me, and try to fix me!  I’m unfixable!  I’m not worthy of being loved, because I can’t love!”

She slows and catches her breath.  “I can’t see inside myself.  If all I’ve done since I left Yamaku is create and torment you, then I can’t be allowed to live my life.  A small, tiny, stupid, unworthy liar like me can’t be trusted not to cause more pain.”

Rin looks up at her Shadow.  Through her tears, Rin can see a look of pain on the Shadow’s face that she thinks might mirror her own.

“You should live my life,” Rin says, somehow knowing this is what her Shadow wants.  Her own turn in the real world.  She would be much better suited to the new, red world outside.  "You deserve it more than me."

The Shadow stops and considers for a moment, a torrent of expressions flickering across her face, before a small, sad smile creeps into the edges of her mouth.  

“No.”

Rin is confused. “No?”  Has she destroyed her life so thoroughly that even her Shadow doesn’t want it?

“No,” the Shadow repeats. “Because you’re wrong.  You’re not small, or stupid, or worthless.”

“But I am!”

“I’m you, Rin,” the Shadow reiterates. “I’m everything you wanted to forget, and buried deep, deep in here,” the Shadow gestures to her heart with her metallic claw, “There’s a very important truth you lost sight of.”

“What?”

“That even though you are bad at talking, and your thoughts are hard to control, and that people worry about you and that makes you uncomfortable because it feels like pity, and things that aren’t painting don’t come easily to you…”

The Shadow takes another step forward, and continues. “That even though you’re strange and you hurt, you are still worthy of love.”

“No…” Rin says averting her eyes. “I can’t hug anyone.  I’m a bad person who doesn’t deserve…” she trails off.

There is a strange sound of creaking, bending metal that emanates from the Shadow.  Rin looks back at her, as her metallic arms fall away from the Shadow's stumps, the dangerous, razor-sharp machines hitting the ground and dissolving in wet splashes of inky darkness.  The Shadow now mirror’s Rin’s form.  She kneels down to the eye level of Rin.

“Yes, you can,” the Shadow says, and she throws herself at Rin, embracing her with what is left of her arms.  

It’s so, so warm.  Rin’s tears start again, as she remembers a feeling she had long forgotten, the touch of one who loves her.  It is enough for her to remember every reassuring touch on the shoulder from Yusuke, the time Mother and Father squeezed her tight before leaving for Tokyo, every time Emi threw her arm around her neck after track practice, and… leaning against Hisao, in front of her mural.  The two of them, silently existing together.

Rin sobs.  She cries like she never has before, because nothing makes sense to her, but everything is so clear.  She reaches up and returns the hug to her Shadow, as best she is able.

“Yusuke spoke with me,” Shadow Rin says in Rin’s ear.  “He and his thief friends.  They wanted to help you.”

Rin silently nods against her Shadow’s shoulder.

“He wanted me to tell you some things.  I’ve said most of them, now… I didn’t know how to word it, but he helped me.  But there’s one more thing he wanted to tell you.  He said, ‘You’re not perfect, but that’s okay.  “We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.”’  And that’s true, even for you.”

Rin nods again, as the torment that was nestled inside her ribs for over a year begins to unravel into a beautiful warmth.  

“You just forgot about that, listening to all the adults in your life.  Those who think they know you, who never bothered to really try and understand you,”  her Shadow’s tone changes.  “Do you want to live the rest of your life under their yoke?”

“No…” Rin says, as hearing the Shadow’s words, the heat in her chest gains an edge.  Her face begins to itch…

“Do you want to save Yusuke and his friends, who are out there, fighting to put the world right?” the Shadow asks, breaking the hug and standing up.

“Yes!” Rin replies, standing up herself.

“Then move forward, Rin Tezuka,” her Shadow says as she begins to slightly lift off the ground. “No matter where your path leads, always follow your heart.”

The edge of anger in Rin’s heart shoots up into her head, and she feels a pain unlike any she has felt before.  She doubles over, down to her knees, gasping as she feels like the two halves of her brain will be torn apart.  But somehow, she knows that this pain is right.

Then, she hears another voice in her head.  It is like hers, but lower, and more powerful.

Well, it has certainly been a long and arduous journey here, hasn’t it, little bird?  Are you prepared to seize your own destiny, and show your masters what a woman can do?  Or will you condemn yourself and your friends to oblivion and hide in the darkness of fear?  What say you, little bird?

Rin can feel the figure clawing its way out of her mind.  From her hazy memories of an art history class, a new power gives itself shape…

“I will never let them control me again!”

That’s just the answer I wanted to hear.  Thus, we sign the contract: I am thou; thou art I...  Show them that the strength of an Emperor hides within your soul!  Never hide who you are!

Rin can feel a cool, heavy ceramic mask form against her face, and she’s possessed of a singular thought: she must remove this mask somehow.  Even though it feels like it’s glued to her face, nothing has mattered more in her life than getting this mask off her face.   She looks around, seeing if maybe she could slide it off, or maybe pry it off with her bedframe, when she sees the floor and makes her decision.

Rin rears back and smashes her forehead onto the floor, shattering the mask in a spray of blue fire and red blood.  Her Shadow, floating in front of her, explodes into light, as a pillar of energy engulfs her.

It clears, and Rin can feel that her outfit has changed.  She has more layers on now, and she looks down to see a dark dress and extra-loose pants, and feels heavier sandals and a caplet or cloak around her shoulders.

She peers up at where her Shadow was floating to see a new figure there instead, surrounded by spectral chains and azure flames.  It’s a woman, heavyset and powerful in build, her silver hair, streaked with greens and golds, is tied back in a bun, her skin blue-tinted.  She wears a strange mix of modern and renaissance clothing: a feathered beret, a cloak-like hoodie with large, open sleeves, a corset with a large square neckline, and a green bandana tied in front of her mouth and nose like a mask.  She holds a machete-like short sword in her left hand and in her right hand she holds a large halberd with an oversized paint brush at the other end.

I am Artemisia Gentileschi, her Persona says. But you, little bird... You may call me Lomi.  Together, let us paint a new future.

"What's happening outside?" Rin asks, standing to her feet.  Her sandals have an odd weight to them now.

The realm of humanity's hearts had been fused with your world by a so-called god.  This god, who would decide our destiny on mere arrogance, is just another man looking to control us.  Let us defy him and his adherents together.  No more running.

Lomi dissolves into flickering blue flames, as the mask and its deer-antlers reform on Rin's face, its surface cool and reassuring.  She's not alone, not anymore.  Rin slides open her room door, and makes her way out of the dorms, to face whatever is happening out there, in the red rain.

"No more running."

Chapter Text

The imposter had been chased from the Velvet Room, and its rightful master, the long-nosed man, had been restored.  Both the man and the young girl in blue had been saved by the Trickster.  As he left to go speak with his teammates, their existence preserved after being removed from the real world, a small butterfly of blue light fluttered into the room.

Both the girl and man observed it as it made its way to the girl.  She held out a finger and the butterfly landed on it, and it told her of news in secret tones that only those who rule over power may hear.

“It seems that another has confronted their inner self, and gained the power of the heart,” the girl said as the butterfly left her hand and faded away into motes of light.

“Indeed, I felt as much,” the man said, resting his elbows on his desk. “A creative soul, who might be a guest here in other, less dire circumstances.” 

“Should I contact her, master?” the girl asked, shifting the massive tome in her arm, ready to use it. "She may require guidance."

The old man sighed, closing his eyes and resting his long nose atop his threaded fingers, thinking for a long moment.

“No, we must focus our efforts on the matter at hand,” he said, opening his bloodshot eyes again.

“Will she be able to navigate this crisis without our aid?” the girl said, sweeping a lock of her long, platinum hair back into place.

“I believe our assistance would only hinder her at this juncture,” he responded.

“And with the crisis that is to follow?” the girl asked, ominously.  They could both feel it, in this space between dream and reality.  Even if the god who had usurped the Velvet Room was removed, the world would not return to its exact former shape.  Someone or something else was preparing, readying themselves to fill the void that would be left, if the current ruler of the world was removed. 

“You are right, Lavenza,” the man said, heaving a sigh. “But I am not as I was.  My imprisonment has left me drained.  If we are to aid this new traveler on her journey, another will have to guide her…”

“Shall we recall one of my sisters, or my brother?” the girl asked. 

“No,” the old man said, withdrawing a quill from its resting place on the desk and producing a piece of paper.  “I think another tactic will have to suffice.  There is a man I knew, some time ago, who might connect with her.  I shall send for him…” and he began to write a letter.

Yusuke wasn't sure how long he'd been in the blue, velvet-padded prison cell.  The last thing he remembered was fading away in the Shibuya Crossing, then he was here.  His sense of time didn't seem to work; he might have been here for days, or maybe it was only minutes, leaning against his cell wall.  His primary assumption was that this was his afterlife, a blue purgatory for those the new, red world had forgotten.

Distantly, he heard talking, footsteps, and other noises, but he paid them no mind.  Eventually, a figure approached outside the bars of his cell.  It was Akira, or rather...

“Joker…” Yusuke said, as he was dressed in his Metaverse attire of the long black coat and pointed shoes, while Yusuke found himself in the gray blazer he had dressed himself in that morning.  Yusuke had never doubted that their leader would make it out of their situation.  “As I expected, you appear to be safe.  Where are we, though?”

“We’re just outside the Velvet Room,” Akira said, as if that explained anything

“Velvet…Room?  I’m not sure I understand,” Yusuke said. 

“It’s a place that’s outside the Grail’s influence, for now, at least,” Akira said.

“I see,” Yusuke said, sensing that this was not the most important thing to discuss at the moment.  He looked at the barred door that locked him away from Akira up and down, reminded of the cells in the Prison of Regression.  “At first, I was surprised to see the masses chained in a prison, yet here I am as well, locked away.  Considering the state of the real world, it is hard to say if we were even remotely helpful…”

“What makes you say that?” Akira asked, shifting his weight between legs.

“The fusion of reality and the Metaverse, overseen by a god born of human desire…” Yusuke summarized.  “Can we truly handle such horrid circumstances?  All the Phantom Thieves can do is change the hearts of others. However, the outside world has become a veritable hell.  Nothing within our power can fix something like that.”

“Are you giving up?” Akira said, refusing to give up on Yusuke.

“I am merely acknowledging how powerless I am,” Yusuke said.  “The people of this world desire their enslavement, you heard their voices crying out against us; they want their lives to be ruled by the Grail.   Even the criminals whose hearts we sought to change became meek followers of the Holy Grail because of us.  We stole their hearts, yet never thought of what might take root in its place…  Were we truly that foolish, risking our lives for a result nobody desired?”

“What about your justice?” Akira asked.

“What does my justice matter in the face of a world that doesn’t want to be saved?” Yusuke said, sliding down the cell wall.  He hit the floor and felt himself succumbing to despair.

There was silence between them for a moment.  Then…

“What about Rin?” Akira asked.

Yusuke looked up at Akira, leaning against the bars of his cell.  “Rin…?”

“Do you think she wants to submit to the will of the Holy Grail?” Akira said. “Do you think she, Sae, or Sojiro should have to live in that kind of world?  Is that something you can condemn them and everyone else in the world to, just because some of them wanted to give up?  Is that something your justice will allow, Fox?”  Akira paused for a moment, then asked. “Should we have given up on you, when you rejected the truth?”

The memory of shouting down Ryuji and Akira when they presented the idea of Madarame as a plagiarist returned, and with it a wash of private shame.  He had not thought of that encounter in quite some time.  “My justice… I see.  When we first met… you continued to impose yourselves on me, no matter how much I pushed you away.  I will forever cherish what you did for me.”  Yusuke stood up, to stare Akira in the eye as he made his decision.

“Very well!” he exclaimed. “Just as art is meant to break boundaries, people should be saved even if they frown upon it.  For the sake of everyone else, I won’t allow the justice I believe in to be shaken any further!”

The corners of his vision were consumed by blue fire, as his outfit transformed into his Thief attire, and the fox mask appeared on his face, and the door of his cell faded away into nothing.

“Allow me to thank you, Joker,” Yusuke said. “Being by your side truly gives rise to the greatest ideas.”

“Break time’s over," Akira said.  He made his rounds, retrieving the other Thieves from their cells, and they met up in the ‘Velvet Room’, where a bizarre old man named Igor and a young girl dressed in blue named Lavenza explained the Velvet Room, the impostor who had taken possession of it and recently been chased out, the threat of the Holy Grail, even Morgana’s origins.  It seems that Shido, the Phantom Thieves, even Goro Akechi had all been unwitting pawns in a scheme by a nefarious, god-like entity to proclaim itself the ruler of humanity, and manipulated them all from the bottom of Mementos, to mold the world until it had gained enough power and was ready to fuse the two dimensions together.  As the only ones with the power to challenge it, it fell to them to challenge and defeat the Holy Grail, which Lavenza called the God of Control.

The others seemed confused, but it all made perfect sense to Yusuke, and eventually they were able to exit the Velvet Room to find the red-drenched, bone-infested Tokyo they had been banished from.  Now empowered with their Personas, they could exist in the new world and challenge the Grail.  

As they climbed the spine of an eldritch serpent, and fought angelic Shadows sworn to serve the Grail, Yusuke promised himself he would do this for all those out there, who did not agree with the Grail, like them.  For those like Rin, who was either oblivious, or scared and alone.

Rin sprints down the stairs of the Kosei dorm, no longer scared or alone.  She leaves the school grounds, desperately searching for a way to right the world.  The people around her still seem oblivious to the red rain or gargantuan bones soaring overhead, but one or two seem to be looking around in disbelief.  Perhaps the hold this ‘god’ has on their minds is not as solid as it should be.

She passes by a glass window of an office building, and catches something in it.  Her own reflection stares back at her, and she does a double-take.  The Rin that looks back at her is dressed in new clothes, granted by her Persona.  She’s wearing a long dress, black like the night sky, but fading to green near the bottom.  She still had long, loose-fitting pants under the dress, and traditionally Japanese, heavy wooden sandals on her feet, and there’s a black, slightly tattered capelet on her shoulders.  But the most striking part of her outfit is the mask that Artemisia dwells in.  It’s part of a deer skull, mostly the forehead, eye sockets and top of the nose, rendered in polished gray ceramic, tinted green at the tips of the antlers that sprout from the forehead.  She saw a deer skull mask in a horror movie once, attached to a scary witch.  She had forgotten most of the movie, but that image of a deer skull used as a mask had never left her memory, and she recognized it instantly in her reflection.

Look out, little bird!  Artemisia warns, and Rin tears herself away from the glass to notice what is happening down the street.  A geometric creature, made of golden shards of metal, arranged to resemble some kind of angelic form, is leveling its sword at a pedestrian, who is looking at it with disbelief.  Rin feels, deep in her gut, that this form is an enemy.  

It is called a Shadow, Artemisia explains.  Beings from the depths of the human heart.  They obey any will stronger than theirs, and that means they all serve the pretender god now.

Her suspicion is immediately confirmed as the person that the Shadow is pointing at disintegrates into a black mist. 

"No..." Rin mutters, in disbelief.  Nearby people seem to all come to their senses and scream.  Panic begins to spread, as they all stumble away from the Shadow, past Rin.  The 'head' of the Shadow turns towards Rin.

"Rebellious soul, you spurn our Lord's generosity?"  the Shadow cries, indignation filling its voice.  Its form shudders and quakes, then it explodes in a fountain spray of light and shadow.  Where there was one metallic angel, now there are three, more human-looking ones.  One is fully armored like a medieval knight and holds a broadsword, another holds a staff aloft and has a helmet ringed with spikes, and the third is clad in bright red armor, with three horns on its helmet, and wields a spear and tower shield.

A Heavenly Punisher, an Angelic Assessor and a Divine Warrior, Artemisia says, labeling each of them in her head. I am ready, if you are.

"I'm more than ready," Rin responds.

The fight begins, and a tiny part of Rin is overjoyed.  She was worried about fighting angel-monsters, but it feels as natural as breathing with Artemisia in her mind.  Finally, she has found something that is as natural to her as painting is: fighting with a Persona.

The Heavenly Punisher takes a swing at her with its sword, but she manages to duck away.  She feels her mask disappear as she summons her Persona, and shouts out the spell she wants to use.

"Maeigaon!"

Artemisia spins her halberd to brandish the paint brush end, and paints an arc of black and red in the air in front of Rin, before thrusting the brush forward.  The arc travels outward like a shock-wave, colliding with each of the angels, and producing an ink-like explosion of curse magic with each hit.  The armored Heavenly Punisher dissolves into a dark, wet puddle.  The two other angel-Shadows are knocked to the ground by the blast, and Rin uses that opening to follow up with a series of slashes from her Persona.

"Lomi! Vorpal Blade!"

Artemisia rushes forward, and with her halberd and machete, cuts the downed Shadows to black ribbons.  They dissipate, and loose change hit the ground where they were, but Rin ignores it.  She has a bigger concern.  It felt incredible to fight those things, but...

"Did we just kill them?"  Rin asks, an edge of guilt gnawing at her.

Shadows are manifestations of a concept, born from the Sea of Souls, Artemisia responds. One may destroy a single instance to return it to the netherworld of the human heart, and do no harm to the original.  There are always more projections; they cannot be killed, as you understand it.  Artemisia seems to sense her doubt, and adds: Regardless of their fate, they will kill you and others, if their master demands it.  Do not falter now.

Rin absorbs that knowledge, and settles her fears.  If destroying them returns them to this 'Sea of Souls,' then it's like freeing them from the control of this 'god.'  That's the way Rin wants to see it, and that's how she internalizes it in that moment.

"Which way?" Rin asks.

Just follow the screaming, Artemisia grimly intones.

Rin does just that, and finds and defeats several other groups of Shadows along the way; from white-robed, golden-faced Iterant Messengers, to a powerful, be-robed and scale-bearing Merciless Inquisitor.  The lesser Shadows are easily dispatched with simple attacks, and Rin delights in using the new wooden sandals to do so, her newfound combat prowess also coming with matching athletic abilities.  The larger Shadows are a problem alone, but Artemisia's ability to decrease their agility means that avoiding their attacks becomes easy.  Between battles, Rin is running so much, she feels just a little bit like Emi.  The rush of adrenaline she's riding on certainly makes it feel like she's running a marathon. 

She makes her way towards Shibuya; there's a massive, red structure in the sky above it, supported by the omnipresent bones, it has to be the center of what is happening, and she knows that’s where she’ll find Yusuke and the Phantom Thieves.  She's stopped about two blocks away, though, as she comes to another gathering of metallic angel-Shadows, judging and dissolving people, seemingly at random. 

"Stop!" Rin shouts, desperate to try and buy time for people to get away.  The largest Shadow does stop, and turns its featureless head towards her.  (Their forms of sleek metal wrapped in scintillating patterns remind Rin of something...)  The people too paralyzed by fear come to, and begin to get up and run into buildings and alleyways.

"Who are you, to tell us to stop our Lord's work?" one of the Shadows asks.

"A person who doesn't want you to kill people," Rin says.

"His Excellency is the embodiment of collective human desire," the largest Shadow proclaims.  "Yet you would deny the will of the people?"

"It's not my will," Rin says, eyes darting around, trying to make sure every person is safe and out of the way.  "I don't want it to happen, so I won't let it happen."

"Then you are deluded," the Shadow responds. "Allow us to show you the true path!" Their metallic shells splinter and break apart into their true forms.  Three angels emerge, a Merciless Inquisitor she's seen before, a robed and hooded figure bound to a burning wheel called a Fire Assassin, and a large, human form, constructed of polished metal and burnished gold.  Its blank, dead eyes stare her down and the sharpened metal feathers of its mechanical wings rattle as it settles them into place.  Artemisia calls it the Shadow of God.   Rin thinks of it as a robo-angel, and her rudimentary sense for the power of Shadows tells her she might have bitten off far more than she can chew.

Rin uses the first moments of the fight to throw out a Masukunda spell, to attempt to keep their aim off-base.   It's immediately proven to be the right move, as the Fire Assassin summons a sweeping beam of flames that Rin only narrowly dodges.  The Merciless Inquisitor attempts to strike her down with a beam of light, but she dodges out of the circle of talismans it conjures before the attack is complete.

She summons Artemisia for another wide-ranging curse spell, but it doesn't sweep the field like before.  The Shadow of God is rattled, but the other two Shadows seem almost unfazed by the attack.  Rin uses the opening to try and get a solid hit on the downed Shadow, but it's not nearly enough to finish it off, and it begins to float again, the Merciless Inquisitor healing it with a spell.

The battle continues for another minute or so, Rin and Artemisia barely managing to dodge the spells and attacks of the three angels, while landing minor hits on them.  Rin summons Artemisia for another Maeigaon, then leaps off of one of the onyx crystal growths while the angels are distracted and lands a kick with her new sandals on the Shadow of God, squarely on the side of its head, denting it.  For a split-second, held in mid air, she thinks that this might be the beginning of her victory, but its eyes turn red and it swats her out of the air.  Even her new-found acrobatic abilities cannot save her from the rough impact with the asphalt.  She tumbles and rolls on the street, before she's skids to a halt and struggles to her knees, when the metallic angel's eyes begin to glow.

"Enough of your insolence!" it shouts. "You... will be purged!"

Rin barely has enough warning to roll out of the way of the twin beams of light that shoot from its eyes.  For a brief moment, Rin is sure she can turn this battle around, somehow.

Then the spot where the beams impacted the street explodes in a ball of white light.

Rin is sent flying, Artemisia summoning herself to cushion her impact with one of the massive, rotting vertebrae.  She can still feel the rumble of the explosion in her ribs and eardrums as bits of the street rain down on her, still white-hot.  She tries to stand up, as her vision swims and the three Shadows close in on her.

“Such a rebellious will has no place in our Lord’s world,” the Shadow of God decrees. “Perish.”

Something about Rin’s Persona allows her to get up easily from any injury, but she needs time, time she doesn't have.  She wants to cry out, but before she can even think of who would help her, a dozen blasts of light strike all of the Shadows in their backs.  They all turn to see the source, as does Rin, and she sees someone she did not expect.

“Step away from her!” he shouts.  He is holding a staff and dressed in a golden bodysuit, with a pure white cloak or poncho thing of some kind. Floating behind him is a large, skeletal, golden cross that leaks teal-streaked tentacles with serrated claws out of it.

His doctor's coat is gone, and his hair is slicked back now, but she cannot forget that face.

"Dr. Maruki?"

Chapter Text

Progress up to the seat of the Holy Grail was slow.  Shadows resembling the four Christian archangels appeared to slow the Phantom Thieves down, but they were able to fight past them and each other monstrous Shadow the Grail threw in their way, but they needed to head back to the Velvet Room to recover their wounds, courtesy of the diminutive Lavenza.

Still, they all felt the need to hurry, as they saw the civilians beginning to dissolve into shadowy mist.  Yusuke felt an anxious pit form in his stomach as they raced back up the bone structure.  There was no one else out there who could do what they could, and if they didn’t do it quickly there wouldn't be much of Tokyo left to save.

"Another lost soul, determined to meet a defiant, meaningless end," the Shadow of God says, staring at Maruki and his Persona.

"You'll find that my soul is far from lost," Maruki says, the tentacles of his Persona crackling with magic.  One reaches out to slash at the Shadows, the other glistens with a teal glow, and Rin feels her strength return to her, as ribbons of light wrap around her in the shape of a heart.

All three angel-Shadows are now focused on Maruki, which gives Rin a chance to get to her feet, and summon Artemisia for another curse blast.  Her Persona unleashes another Maeigaon, blasting the Shadow of God to the asphalt with ribbons of dark energy.  The other two Shadows only take minor damage, but it's an opening she and Maruki can exploit, if they work together.

"Doctor!" Rin shouts. "Get the fiery one!"

Maruki looks a little taken aback by her shouting but he nods and summons the intense blue light of a nuclear spell to flatten the Fire Assassin.   He shouts back once it's done, and Rin uses the confusion to hit the Merciless Inquisitor with a physical strike.  Rin brings her heel down on the angel at the same time Artemisia slashes through it horizontally with her machete.

“Cross Slash!” Rin and Artemisia shout together, and the attack leaves the angel-Shadow reeling, its wings clipped and its body grounded like the other two Shadows.

“Finish them now!” Maruki shouts as he summons more tentacles.  They both go all-out, unleashing a concentrated barrage of attacks on the defenseless Shadows, that leaves all of them hemorrhaging a spray of some black liquid before dissolving back into Shadow-stuff.

The battle over, Rin collapses to one knee, panting, and Artemisia reforms into her mask.  Maruki strolls over, his face still mask-less as his gold-and-teal Persona remains, looming behind him.  Rin isn't sure if the golden cross of the Persona's body is floating and the tentacles that end in sharpened claws are just draped on the ground, or if they are supporting the body, holding it up above the ground.  Rin can almost hear whispers coming from it when she looks at it, nonsense dream-talk drifting into her ears.

"It's good to see you safe, Tezuka-san," Maruki says. "Though I'm quite surprised that you have a Persona."

"I just got mine," Rin replies. "But...you already had yours when we talked, didn't you?"

Maruki looks a little embarrassed.  "Yes, though I admit I didn't really know what it was.  I awakened this power a while ago, and didn't truly understand what it was.  But now, with the cognitive world fused with the material world, Azathoth was able to explain everything." He lays a gentle hand on one of the tentacles.

"So is that what you used when you tried to... do something to me, when we talked?" Rin asks, the anger of her Shadow still in the back of her mind as Artemisia gives a mental scowl.

"...Yes," Maruki admits, a bitter smile on his face. "I awakened my Persona and helped someone I loved forget some very painful memories.  I didn't really understand it at the time, but I helped a few others in the same way: letting them move past their trauma."

"So you tried to make me forget about the things you thought were troubling me?" Rin says.

"I did," he says, remorse written across his face.  "Some things are just too painful for people to bear."

"And how can you judge that, if you can't see inside them?" Rin asks.

Maruki shakes his head.  "I can't.  That was the mistake I made.  I can't truly know the turmoil inside someone, as I am.  You seemed to be in so much pain, Tezuka-san, but you managed to find your own way out.  Now that I've seen that, and now that I know what this power is, I wanted to apologize to you, Tezuka-san. Had I known more, I would have found another way."

Rin isn't sure a simple apology is what's needed here, but everything is happening too quickly.  She'd dismissed the image of the gilded cross with blue eyes behind Maruki as a daydream, her imagination lashing out.  Now, knowing he tried to alter her memories to 'fix' her... it sets a burning anger in her chest.

Just like every other adult, she thinks.

He is an arrogant man, but he is far from the worst one you have encountered, Artemisia chimes in.  He did not entirely know what he was doing, and he has recanted his actions.  With the current state of the world, we cannot afford to judge him too harshly.

Warily, Rin agrees.  A god wants to rule over humanity and for all of them to surrender their free will; judging the merits of Maruki's misguided 'aid' will have to wait.

"Apology accepted for now, doctor," Rin says. "Do you know how to correct what's happened to the world?"

A smile spreads across Maruki's face.  "Thank you, Tezuka-san.  Yes, Azathoth has let me know what needs to be done.  But first," he rummages in his poncho and produces a juice box and a rice cracker, which he offers to Rin.  "Food helps to restore your strength in the cognitive world, this can help keep you going."  An awkward look crosses his face, as he realizes that standing in the middle of the street, it will be difficult for Rin to eat and drink them unassisted.

"Would you like-" he begins, before being cut off as Rin summons Artemisia, who sheathes her blade and takes the snacks from Maruki's hand, peeling the wrapper on the cracker, then setting up the straw on the juice box.

"I see," he says.  He's right, the snacks help immensely, Rin feels her energy and spirit return as she wolfs down the cracker and drains the juice with the help of her Persona.  Artemisia disposes of the wrapper and box in a nearby trash can that's been knocked over by one of the crystal growths, then disappears.

"So?" Rin asks, waiting for the explanation. "Are we going to help the Phantom Thieves?" She gestures to the red, cylindrical structure in the sky, made up of hundreds of glowing prison cells.

Maruki's eyes narrow slightly.  "No, they can handle that battle.  We need to tackle things from the other end."

"What other end?  What do we hit?" Rin asks.

"The being that fused our worlds together is one of immense strength," Maruki explains. "Even if the Phantom Thieves can defeat its physical manifestation, anything short of a miracle means that the two dimensions will not be able to separate."

"What kind of miracle?" Rin says, feeling pretty miraculous at the moment. "A miracle like you rescuing me, or like walking on water?  A lot seems possible at the moment."

Maruki gives the slightest chuckle.  "Like the entirety of Tokyo rejecting its rule and placing their hope in the Phantom Thieves."  He gestures around them.  "Not looking likely at the moment."

"So, what do we do to help?" Rin says, trying not to break her momentum of thought.

"We need to get to the seat of its power, and sever the link, so we can restore the world and save everyone who's disappeared."

Rin's stomach churns, remembering the looks on the faces of the people she saw being disintegrated.  "Where do we go?  How do we do it?"

"We need to get to the bottom of the cognitive labyrinth, which was the place that entity was seated before the fusion.  With the worlds now fused, it's directly beneath Tokyo.  There," Maruki gestures with his staff, which is golden like his Persona and bodysuit, and is topped by what looks like a gilded sea urchin, or perhaps a frozen explosion of light.  He points the staff to the subway entrance, to the side and down a street off of Shibuya Crossing.  "We'll be able to get down from there.  With Azathoth's power, I should be able to fight my way down and correct the world once that entity is defeated, but I wouldn't say no to some help."

"Well then, you won't say no to me," Rin says. "I don't want this new, red world.  No matter how cool it looks."

"It is rather striking, in a horrific way, isn't it?" Maruki comments, glancing around.  His Persona begins to fade away, and his mask finally forms.  Golden, as Rin expected, but it looks like a tower on his face.  It stretches a good twenty centimeters up, like a gilded column rising off of his forehead.  Rin can’t help but let loose a single snort of a laugh.  Maruki looks back to her and sighs.

“I know it’s a bit much,” he says, running his finger up the edge of the mask. “Not all of us can be cool witches with deer skulls.”

“Thank you,” Rin says, looking down at her outfit.  She does love how it feels.  “I think your outfit is nice and unique.  ‘Golden Poncho Pope’ is not a look anyone is likely to steal.”

Maruki cracks a small smile in return.  “Let’s get moving.”

They make their way down the street, crushing a few minor Shadows without even summoning their Personas, just sandals and staff beatdowns.  They arrive at Shibuya Crossing, and they both have to navigate the crowd.  The people have largely group up near the edges, away from the subway entrance and away from the roving Shadows.  Many of them seem to be in a daze, not fully entranced by the illusion of the ‘god’, but also not entirely aware of their surroundings, caught between two states.  A few are staring up in horror at the structure suspended in the air, not quite directly overhead, but close enough that if it fell, none of them would survive.  Rin is sure that that is where the 'god' has situated itself, and a few flashes of light that she can spot from within the structure give her hope that perhaps Yusuke and company might be fighting it right now.

Very few of the people seem to notice Rin and Maruki, and those that do don't seem to have the mental bandwidth to process them.  Rin scans the crowd, and spots a familiar face or two.  Hifumi, the shogi player and her nearly-friend at Kosei, is trying to calm someone near the statue of Buchiko, and Chika's boyfriend (Yuuki?  Rin can't quite remember at the moment) is looking for someone, speaking with people and helping them move to safety.  Hope isn’t lost after all, if they can all band together like that.

A rumbling sound emanates from the massive structure suspended overhead, as it begins to change shape.  The red, glowing blocks that make up what they can see of the building begin to fall away, as the bone structures surrounding it also begin to crumble.  The discarded pieces of the structure disappear as they fall, sparing those below, but drawing everyone's attention.  The walls fall away, and the central column of the structure splits, slowly revealing a humanoid figure made of shining, polished metal, massive in scope and angelic in form, like the Shadows prowling the streets.  Rin recognizes it immediately; she's seen in her dreams for months, but had no context.  She thought the metal head shape with a vaguely triangular face plate was a knight's helmet, but the iridescent patterns that crisscross it and the winged halo that rotates above are unmistakable.

"I am the administrator born of the collective human unconscious," a voice rings out from the floating colossus. "The God of Control, Yaldabaoth."

There was a Yaldabaoth in a book of mythology Rin read as a kid, but this giant winged mecha looks nothing like the snake with a head of a lion from that book.

"We need to hurry," Maruki says. "If it's showing its true form and name, then we haven't got much time."  Rin agrees and they weave their way between the dumbfounded onlookers to the deserted part of the crossing.

They are just about to duck into the subway, when a voice rings out behind them.  "Trespassers against our Lord!"   It's the voice of a Shadow.  Rin and Maruki turn to see a host of angelic metal-Shadows descending and gathering behind them.  It's a horde.  "Thou who seek to defile the sanctity of our Lord's world, thou shall go no further!"

They don't have time for this.  Between the two of them, they probably could handle the dozens of Shadows gathering around the larger one who spoke, but how long would that take?  Rin looks back and forth between Maruki and the Shadows, and then makes her decision.

"Keep going, Doctor," she says. "I can handle this.  You handle the rest."

Maruki looks worried.  "And leave you to this?  No, I can't abandon one of my patients."

"That doesn't matter!" Rin shouts. "You're the one who knows how to fix the world, to make it right.  I can hold them off while you get to the bottom of that maze.  We each have our jobs; it's the only way."

Maruki stares at her for a long moment, before his mask disappears in blue flames and his Persona appears behind him.  For a moment, Rin thinks he's going to stay and fight the Shadows, but raises his hand up, and she feels power and might surge within her as three colors of flames spin around her.  A parting gift, for the battle ahead.

"I will make it right.  Good luck, Tezuka-san," Maruki says, as his Persona coils a tentacle around his body and lifts him off the ground.  It holds for a split second, the unearthly, multi-layered whispers from it the only thing audible, then it tears off at alarming speed; down into the depth of the subway.

"Good luck, doctor," Rin says, then turns to face the horde.

Navigating the cognitive maze was simple for Maruki and Azathoth: go down.  When a particular floor was too large, smash the ground and keep going down. They followed twisting railroad tracks of bone and red arteries of desire; the process was almost automatic.

Maruki felt a little guilty for lying to Rin-chan.  With the defeat of Yaldabaoth, the cognitive world and the real world could not be held together, and would naturally revert to their original forms, which would be followed by a collapse of the cognitive realm, without its central lynchpin to keep it together.  They did not need to be at the bottom of the labyrinth to make sure their victory was complete.

But, as Azathoth had told him, right after the defeat of the God of Control, and right before the separation, there would be a chance for someone else to fill that void.  And with that power, he could make the world he'd dreamed of: a world without pain or heartache.  An ideal world, made real. 

He'd dreamed of it ever since his fiancé Rumi awoke from her catatonia, having forgotten him, but also the trauma of the violation and the murder of her parents that lead her to that state.  He didn't know what had happened, back then, but his research into cognitive psience and his session with Yoshizawa was enlightening.  He had somehow gained the power to alter a person's cognition, to take their thoughts and spin new perceptions and ideas out of them.  Half-intentionally, he had nudged Sumire-chan's grief over the loss of her sister with his power, and her survivor's guilt had transformed.   Her subliminal wish that her sister had lived instead of her had become her reality: she now believed that she was her sister Kasumi Yoshizawa, who had lived instead of her.  It wasn't ideal, but her pain and self-loathing was so strong, Maruki had to do something drastic to keep her from dealing with her grief in a more... permanent manner.

He'd experimented again with Rin-chan.  She'd been so aimless, wallowing and alone, in so much emotional turmoil over her lost love, he'd tried to see if he could repeat what had happened to Rumi: reach into her mind and remove the source of her pain.  But something was different, and Rin had rejected the change, almost instinctively.  He had contemplated what the main difference could be since then, and came to the conclusion that altering cognition without altering the world around it was a delicate thing.  Only those truly at the end of their rope, like Rumi and Sumire would subconsciously accept their new cognition, anyone else would feel the dissonance between their new state of mind and the real world, and the spell would break.

But now… now he could do more than just alter perception and cognition.  With the cognitive world overlaid on the real one, altering cognition meant changing reality.   Any change he made to a person's cognition would be echoed in the real world.  Right at that moment, while the two worlds were one, seeing wasn’t just believing; believing was being.  

At the root of the cognitive world, all of humanity's thoughts melded together, just like Kurusu-kun suggested.  Looking back, knowing he was a Phantom Thief who'd been exploring the cognitive world, Akira was giving him a huge hint when he told Maruki all hearts were connected.  At first, he had thought that he was speaking in a more metaphorical sense; Jungian archetypes and whatnot, but once Maruki consider his life as a Phantom Thief, he realized the bespectacled high-schooler had been speaking of a place, an actual location in the cognitive world.  Once he was there, and the controlling power was removed, the threads of everyone's subconscious would be free, free to be read.  Free to be improved.  To be perfected.

Rin chided him for trying to mend her trauma without being able to see inside her, but once he was seated in the nexus of all human hearts, he would be able to see inside her, he and Azathoth would be able to see inside everyone.  No more therapy sessions, no more idle chatter to feel out someone’s insecurities, no more slow, laborious work on mending a single heart, while all the other cries for help went unanswered.  He and Azathoth would be able to look inside every human mind and heart, see their anxieties, regrets and traumas, and fix them all.  Not just in their minds, but in the real world.  Relationships and families would be repaired, dreams and ambitions deferred would be fulfilled, even the dead could return.  First in Tokyo, then all of Japan, then Asia, and finally the entire world. 

So yes, Maruki did feel guilty for not telling Rin the truth: that the Phantom Thieves could handle this all on their own and "save the world."  But them defeating the 'god of control' would just return the world to the same state as before.  The same tortuous world that took Rumi from him, that took Kasumi from her family and led to the abuse and neglect of Kurusu-kun, Takamaki-chan, Sakamoto-kun and all the others.  To Maruki, that's not saving the world, that's just a different kind of defeat.

He couldn't let a little guilt over a white lie stop him from realizing his dream.  She would understand, once he had created the new world.  They would all understand.  They'd have to.

He would make them understand, if he had to.

They arrived at the bottom of the maze, a vast prison of empty cells, not a Shadow to be found.  They navigated the corridors of the deserted prison, until they came to a void at the heart of the prison.

This is where its throne was, Azathoth indicated as they stood on a gigantic, rotting spine at the edge of a vast gap. Once it is vanquished, the nexus of all human desire will return.  We need only wait.

The Phantom Thieves were going to save the world from oblivion.  It would only be right to give them all what they deserved.  To give everyone in Tokyo, no... everyone in the world what they deserved.

A better reality.

Chapter Text

The battle against Yaldabaoth was more intense than anything the Phantom Thieves had faced.  They had to use their Persona-granted acrobatic ability to leap between the platforms surrounding the massive metallic god, as it would flex its wings to fire bolts of light at them.  They were all just beginning to get the hang of it, when it produced a mechanical arm that wielded a revolver the size of a train car.  

“Oh, come the eff on!” Ryuji shouted as the revolver fired a blast of pink light right at Makoto, who fell to the ground, giggling and moaning, caught in some mental spell.  Ryuji had to scoop her up and jump to another platform to get her out of the way of a trash-can sized shell from the Gun of Execution .  Ann directed a pillar of fire magic at the arm, which melted and bent slightly, and then shattered when Haru hit it with a shot from her grenade launcher.  The massive gun and bits of the arm dissolved into light as they tumbled away.

“Yes!” Haru shouted, and Yusuke was about to congratulate her when the booming voice rang out again.

“I release upon you the deadly sin of vanity,” the angular monstrosity intoned. “You have no means of escape, humans.  The fraudulence of mankind shall bring forth ruin…”

A second arm appeared, now with an equally-oversized bell at the end.  It rang, and Yusuke could feel his eardrums thrum and pulse inside his head with the unearthly noise.  He saw his own body turn pitch-black, like the attack Shadow Madarame had used on them.  He watched as Makoto recovered from whatever was afflicting her, and launched herself back into the fray.

“Fox, keep your guard up, you’re weak to everything right now!” Futaba’s voice said, from her position inside her Persona.

Yusuke stepped away from the fight, blocking the arrow of light Yaldabaoth launched at him, and wondered how many more tricks this so-called god could have up its sleeves, and what was happening, in the city below, where its forces were left unchecked…

"Willingness to sacrifice is an honorable trait," the largest Shadow says to Rin.  It and the host behind it drift to the ground, and in a brilliant flash of light, the foremost Shadow reveals its true form.  It's a she-angel, with a most striking look.  Her bronze skin matches the intricate and revealing golden armor; boots and gauntlets, a golden corset and a collar of wings around her neck. There is a stripe of gold paint across her pale green eyes and her lips are bright blue, with platinum hair slicked back.  From behind her, two snow-white wings spread, their tips dyed ink-black.  She holds a weapon that looks to be something between a sword and a lance.  Her body is human, but she's nearly four meters tall, towering over Rin.  In the back of her head, Artemisia calls the Shadow the Servant of the One.

"I commend your spirit,” the Shadow says.  "The strength of will to stand against our Lord is admirable, but misguided."  The Shadow drifts ever closer to Rin, who looks around to see more of the crowd of people pull away, some in fear of the host of angel-Shadows, others instinctually, still in a fugue.

"I would also congratulate you and call you honorable," Rin says. "But I don't think you're honorable, I think that you're all stupid.  That big Gundam knock-off says that this world should be this way, and you just go along with it, because it’s bigger than you."

"Our Lord is the personification of human desire," the Shadow explains. "It is not within his power to act incorrectly.  What he wills is the will of humanity, free from constraint and pretense.  To deny his will is to deny your own humanity."

"No," Rin says.  The Servant of the One waits for her to continue, but she does not.  Instead, Rin is waiting, waiting for the maximum number of angel-Shadows to gather behind the main Shadow.

"That is all?" the Shadow says, incredulous. “You deny the will of all of humanity with a single word, like a spoiled child?” The Shadows behind the Servant of the One reach the street level, and begin to shine with light, shedding their metal shells to reveal their true forms.  All of them are spear-wielding Iterant Messengers, weak Shadows from what Rin remembered, but there’s several dozen of them behind her, and more are gathering.  She has to hit them all at once.

“Yes,” Rin says, trying to stall until the very last second.  She’s been told she has a talent for confounding with her words, and she hopes that it’s as true for Shadows as it is for humans.

“Then I must recant my praise,” the Servant of the One says, shaking her head. “I thought you to be a human of-” 

Rin ignores her rant.  There, there are enough of the Iterant Messengers in range that she’ll be able to survive the attacks from those she doesn’t destroy.

Rin thinks of a new form for her curse attack, and Artemisia agrees on the strategy.  She moves before the Shadow can catch what is going on.  Her mask disappears and her Persona thrusts the paint brush end of her weapon upwards.

“Maeigaon!” Rin shouts, and threads of red and black energy shoot out of the paintbrush, weaving into a mass above the crowd of angel-Shadows.  The strands of curse magic coalesce and paint themselves into the massive form of a humpback whale, twisting in mid air as if it was breaching the water’s surface.  The curse-whale lets out a somber note as it descends, back-first on the angelic mass.  

The temporary whale crashes, landing on the Shadows and dissipating into an inky red-and-black splash of dark energy, instantly destroying most of the Iterant Messengers, and grounding the floating Servant of the One.   Rin wastes no time, and throws out a Masukunda spell to reduce the speed of the main Shadow and all the others that her darkness spell could not reach.

“Insolence!” the Servant of the One roars, clawing her way out of the sludge-like black remnants of the spell and rising into the air.  She raises her arm towards Rin, and the remaining Shadow, those who did not land and still float above the crowd, begin to dive-bomb Rin.  Each gold-masked Shadow rushes her from the sky, forcing her to move, as each of them lunges with their spear, impacting the ground with enough force to crack the concrete, one after another where Rin was just a moment ago.

Against this many, just another curse spell won't be enough.  She needs to disrupt them somehow, and Artemisia offers a skill that might do the trick.  She stops running and prepares to unleash the spell.  Two more angels rush her, one clips her on the side with its spear, the shallow cut below her ribs burning slightly, and the other she manages to kick away before it lands.  She turns and roundhouse kicks the Shadow that clipped her before it can manage a second attack.  Rin faintly registers yelps and gasps from the people nearby at her injury and her counterattack, but ignores it.  She turns to the swarm of angel-Shadows above her and summons Artemisia for a new spell.

"Makajamaon!" Rin shouts, as Artemisia raises her machete and halberd to the sky, crossing them and releasing a shimmering blue pulse towards the Shadows.  The Servant of the One is unaffected but each of the Iterant Messengers suddenly all look around, confounded.  Some of them that were summoning balls of light for bless attacks lose the spell, as they forget their abilities, or even what they are doing.

The Servant of the One looks at her fellow Shadows and scoffs.  She raises her sword, and it begins to glow with pure white light, and Rin gets ready to dodge.  The Shadow points her sword directly at Rin, and although Rin is able to roll out of the way of the resultant beam of holy energy, she is still caught by the edge, singeing her dress and making her right leg go numb.  She stumbles, unable to stand properly.  The Servant of the One sees her opening and dives towards Rin, sword outstretched, ready to run her through.

Without any direction from Rin, Artemisia appears in a burst of blue fire in front of her, spinning her halberd to deflect the attack.  The Shadow is surprised, as her sword thrust is batted away, and she takes a swift step back to avoid a counterattack.  Artemisia advances, dual-wielding her halberd and machete in a relentless, spinning flurry of strikes, buying time for Rin to get to her feet.  The Shadow blocks and parries most of the blade strikes, but dodges and leans away whenever Artemisia swings the curse-dipped paint brush end of the halberd at her, giving it a wide berth.

Rin is almost to her feet when Artemisia overextends, and the Shadow sees her opening.  She cuts across Artemisia's stomach with the tip of her blade, while jumping away to float above with her wings.  Rin doubles over as a painful, tearing sensation rakes its way across her own stomach, mirroring the injury to her Persona.  They really are two peas in a pod.  Artemisia stumbles with the injury, and with the extra space the Servant of the One points her sword at Artemisia, and her Persona is engulfed in a pillar of flame.

Rin feels the fire scorching at her Persona, and she collapses back to the ground in pain.  Both she and Artemisia scream, and Rin can hear shouts from the crowd, gathered at the edge of the square where this battle is taking place.  All she can think, as Artemisia dissipates back into her mask form on Rin's face, is that she just wants them gone.  She doesn't know what an attack from a Shadow will do to someone without a Persona, and she's not eager to find out.

Rin struggles to right herself, now sitting on the ground, her back against the entrance to the subway.  Her skin isn't burned, but it certainly feels like it is.  The Servant of the One floats back down to the ground, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Humanity desires a new world," the Shadow says. "A world without the burden of freedom.  You cannot deny your people their wish."

Rin coughs weakly and looks back up to the angel.  "Humanity wants to be ruled, because a big tin god says so," Rin says. "And they say I don't make sense..." Her Persona has some kind of regenerative ability; she can feel her strength returning, but she's not sure that she can stall long enough. "I never agreed to filling Tokyo with big bones and red rain."

"You are an aberration," the Servant of the One proclaims. "The will of humanity is to create a better world, one without wretched and broken specimens like you."

Once, Rin would have laid down and accepted that label.  She would have accepted the new world, just gone along with 'Yaldabaoth's' entire deal, and let it decide her life for her.  It's not like it would have been a change from all the teachers and ‘talent advisors’ and counselors telling her what's best for her life.

But she made a contract to take control of her life.  A promise, to never accept someone else's plan for how she should live or behave.  Even now, her pact with her Persona burns in the back of her mind: Never hide who you are.

Rin struggles to her feet, still leaning against the wall.

"That's sad," she says, looking up to meet the Shadow's eyes. "That you would look at it that sort of way.  It's sad you can't think for yourself, and you just accept whatever the stronger thing says is true.  I think that if one of us is broken, it's you."

The Servant of the One looks incensed, but Rin continues. "You want to be honorable and make all the right choices and be a real angel, but you're just a myth, just a reflection trying to cross through the mirror and be real.  It's... sad." 

"Spare me your pity!" the Shadow spits out, her face twisted into a scowl. Behind her, the Iterant Messengers have recovered from the memory spell, and begin to descend to street-level, amassing behind their commander.  The Servant of the One grips her sword with both hands and raises it over her head.  Rin realized that she's still not strong enough to run or fight yet, that she's reached the end of her-

A school textbook flies through the air and hits the Servant of the One in the side of her head.  There is a long moment before Rin, the Shadow and every one of the angels turn to see the source.

“Get away from her!”

It’s Chika, her black hair disheveled and her glasses cracked.  She has her school bag open and is pulling out a second book to throw.  Behind her is a whole crowd of people; salarymen and teenagers, tourists and office ladies, all emerging from their hiding spots around the statue of Buchiko and the surrounding shrubbery.  They all look afraid, but many of them are holding loose bricks or umbrellas or other improvised weapons, all of them look ready to let loose if the Shadow moves.  A chorus of shouts and threats and cries begins to flow from the crowd.

“Leave us alone!”

“We don’t want a world like this!”

“What god would do this to humanity?”

“Don’t lay a hand on that girl!”

"Get lost, fake angel!"

“We believe in mankind!”

“Get out of here!”

Rin and the Shadow are both stunned, Rin can see it plain as day in her face.  The Shadow and her entourage are so flabbergasted, they don't notice the two humans that slip around the edge of the building, to meet up with Rin.  She recognizes them: Chika’s boyfriend, the Phanboy Yuuki and the shogi player Hifumi.

“Can you stand, Tezuka-san?” Yuuki whispers urgently.

“We need to retreat,” Hifumi whispers. “Come on.”  They both try to carry Rin, throwing her arms around the back of each of their necks, but Rin doesn’t have enough arm for it to work properly, and Rin slips back to the ground.  All three of them freeze to try and avoid attracting attention.

The crowd’s yelling continues, rising in intensity.  Rin can see that this is something the Servant of the One is not prepared to handle.  One person who rejects Yaldabaoth’s will is easy, they can be demeaned and even defeated, but a whole crowd, a mass rejection of her god?

“No, you will all- It’s what you truly want- If you accept-” she tries to plead with the crowd, but it’s no use.  The crowd begins to let loose with more projectiles: cellphones, office supplies, briefcases and school bags.  None of them do any real damage to the Shadows, but the entire Shadow-angelic host seems confused by the hail of objects.

“Why are you helping me?” Rin asks, truly perplexed.

“Because you’re my friend,” Hifumi whispers back, trying to drag Rin away.  She’s beginning to recover, but she’s still weak. "And you seem to be the only thing that can fight these things."

“And we believe in the Phantom Thieves,” Yuuki says.  Rin wants to respond that she’s not a Phantom Thief, but he just winks at her.

Rin feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  She jerks around and sees a shift in the demeanor of the Servant of the One.   She’s no longer confused, she’s now angry.

“Get back!” Rin hisses to her would-be rescuers.

“Silence!” the Shadow screams as she plunges her sword into the concrete.  A split second later, the sword releases a pulse of green force that blasts outward.  Rin, Yuuki, Hifumi and the entire crowd are blasted away, head over heels, scattered like flower petals across the square.  Some in the crowd recover and run, others stay down, stunned or injured.  The three teens hit the side of the main subway building, dazed by the impact.

“You!” the Shadow roars, turning on Rin, now slumped against a different wall. "Heretic! Demagogue! Iconoclast!"   Rin notices a fire and venom in the eyes of the Servant of the One, energy and purpose previously unseen.  "You have infected their hearts and led them astray!  Your idolatry and rabblerousing has forced me to raise my hand against the lord's chosen people!"

She advances on Rin, sword in hand and murder in her green eyes, ready to skewer her.  "For this sin, you shall p-"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THOSE KIDS!" shouts a gruff, coarse voice.

Rin hears a distant bloop sound, and a split second later the crowd of Iterant Messengers explodes.  Most of them disintegrate into golden light, and the few remaining Shadows, including Rin's assailant, turn to find the source of the explosion.  Rin can see it right away.

Across the street and away from the remnants of the crowd, there is a man in a gray overcoat and flat cap, his frame laden with firearms hanging from straps.  He has bright yellow headphones resting around his neck, and a bright red ‘peace’ symbol on his coat.  He's holding a metal tube with a wooden stock (a grenade launcher, Rin remembers from one of Hisao's military books), which he lets go of, to let it hang on its strap, and grabs a large, two-handed gun (an LMG, though Rin doesn't remember what that stands for) from its place at his side and points it at each of the remaining angels, gunning each of them down with quick bursts of automatic fire.

Rin isn't sure who this man is or how he has military guns, but she's glad he's fighting for them.  She gets to her feet, glancing to make sure her friends are safe on the ground, before moving.  Her moment is soon, both she and her Persona can sense it.

The gunman finishes cleaning up all the Iterant Messengers that try to attack him, and he trains his gun on the Servant of the One, unleashing a barrage of sustained fire on her.  The bullets tear through her, shredding her black and white wings, grounding her and forcing her to throw up a shield of faint light that begins to absorb the incoming projectiles.

A few seconds later the gunfire stops, as the LMG runs dry.  The Servant of the One wastes no time, dropping her shield and gesturing at the man with her sword.  He seems to sense the danger, and stumbles backward, barely dodging a narrow vortex of fire that the Shadow summons where he was not a moment ago.  He's not geared for dodging, though, and saddled with those firearms, he topples over to the ground.  The Shadow turns back to where Rin was just a moment ago, and finds only Yuuki and Hifumi, beginning to recover.  She spins in place, searching for her quarry, but she's too late.

Rin and Artemisia had formulated a plan of attack while the Shadow was pinned down.  They needed to strike at the Shadow's weakness, and hit a decisive strike, and Artemisia had the perfect skill for it.  Rin already leapt to the top of the underground subway entrance, and then, when the gunman ran out of ammo, she jumped as high as she could, more than any normal human without a Persona could.  She summons Artemisia at the apex of her jump, her Persona appearing above her, and they descend towards the Shadow together.

"Lomi!" Rin cries out as the Servant of the One looks up to see Rin's Persona bearing down on her.  "Black Dracostrike!"

Purple flames erupt from the blade of Artemisia's halberd, and she grips it with both hands, blade down, diving towards the Shadow in a plunging attack.  The purple and black fire spreads horizontally, resembling the wings of a dark dragon, swooping down to devour the golden angel.

For a single second of infinity, time stands still.  The Shadow attempting to dodge, her ruined wings unable to move her.  Artemisia and Rin falling together, her Persona poised to strike, and Rin trying and failing to land.  The whole crowd watches, their breath held.

Artemisia slams to the earth, cracking the concrete, followed by Rin landing nearby, ungracefully.  The angel is stunned, unable to counter, unable to move, from the blade of Artemisia’s weapon sticking straight through her abdomen.  Thick, black fluid begins to leak from the grievous wound, from her back and her stomach, as dark flames begin to spread from the weapon lodged inside her.  The whole square is silent.

"I… I…" the angel feebly begins, before Artemisia shifts her weight and tears the blade of the halberd through her enemy's body, severing her torso from her hips.  Her attack complete, Artemisia vanishes back into Rin's mask.

Both halves of the Shadow float in mid-air, black flames extinguished, her body beginning to fade away into motes of golden light, starting at the wound, and spreading outward.

"My lord..." the Shadow says, her voice fading with her body.  "I will await your return... in another time, and another place, to defend your claim... to the throne of creation... I will always be... your most loyal retainer..."  She closes her eyes as her body disintegrates.

With that, the Servant of the One returns to the Sea of Souls.

Cheers erupt from the crowd around the square, now mostly recovered.  Rin struggles back to her feet from the messy landing, and Chika tackles her in a hug.

“Rin!  You’re okay!” Chika shouts, tears spilling from her cheeks as she buries her face in Rin’s chest.  

“I am,” she replies.  Rin is glad that Chika is okay, too.  She doesn’t know how to say it, but she hopes Chika can feel it. “Please stop crying on my boobs.”

Chika sits up and looks down at Rin, her face a mixture of a dozen conflicting emotions that Rin is not equipped to distinguish.  She gets off of Rin as Yuuki and Hifumi help her up, then she throws her arms around Rin’s neck in a hug.

“Are you… part of the Phantom Thieves, Rin-san?” Hifumi asks.

Rin shakes her head; a difficult maneuver while Chika is still hugging her.  “I don’t think so, but I think that what I did is what they do.”

Yuuki smiles, “You mean, that four-meter tall blue lady with the spear that you summoned?”

“Yes, her,” Rin replies, deadpan.

“So you’re not part of the group, but you have the same powers?” Hifumi asks.

“I think so,” Rin says.

Chika breaks the hug, and smiles at Rin.  "How did you even get these powers?"

Rin shrugs. "I did."

"You kids alright?" the gruff gunman asks, approaching the four of them.  Each of them but Rin looks guarded at someone wielding that much military hardware, but Rin is curious, and also has something she needs to say.

"Thank you," she says. "For saving us."

"Just glad you're all safe," he says.  He has some serious stubble, and a tattoo on his neck, but something about the way his hard eyes soften while speaking to them tells Rin he's not a bad guy; at least, not anymore.

"Um... are you..." Yuuki begins, partly trying to hide behind Rin. "Are you the owner of that military store?"

The man smirks.  "I am.  Though I don't stock real guns, if that's what you're asking."

"Then... what are those?" Hifumi asks, gesturing to the weapons slung over each of his shoulders.

"It's the damnedest thing," he says, unslinging the LMG and presenting it to the four of them. "I only sell prop weapons," he taps the side of the gun to show them, and Rin notices that it is indeed plastic. "But then whatever happened also makes 'em shoot like real guns, while pointed at those things.  Had to go lock up my shop..."

Rin loses the conversation now as they all begin to talk about the fake guns and state of the world.  Instead she gazes around at the crowd.  It's thinner than when they stood up to the Shadow, some of them have fled, others have returned to a state of apathy.  Most stare at the platforms surrounding the metal god, where faint flashes of light can be seen.

"So what's the deal with her?" the gruff man asks behind her.

"You're guess is as good as ours," she hears Chika say, a smile in her voice.

Rin isn't paying attention to them, but to the battle taking place in the sky.  The metal god has produced a whole array of extra arms, and is channeling dark energy with them.  There's an extra bright flash from the platform around it, and it slumps slightly.  Rin hears a cheer from somewhere in the crowd, but the construct recovers and unleashes its attack on what has to be the Phantom Thieves fighting it.  The small flashes of light from the Thieves cease.  The sky darkens further.

"No..." Rin hears herself mutter, and the attitude of the crowd shifts for the worse as well.

"It's hopeless after all..."

"Nothing can stand up to a god, what were we thinking?"

"It's already won..."

Rin can feel the hope of the crowd draining away.  Someone needs to do something before its too la-

“Take it down Phantom Thieves!” 

Rin turns to see Yuuki, thrusting his fist skyward in defiance.  The whole crowd seems a little lost at his outburst (still grappling with whatever mental control Yaldabaoth exerted on them, Rin suspects.)

“Come on!  Why do you think they risked their lives all this time?” Yuuki says, pleading with the confused and listless crowd.

“We need to support them!” Hifumi adds.  "They're up there fighting for us!  We can't abandon our champions now!"

"The Phantom Thieves can save us," Chika proclaims. "But only if we want to be saved!"

Rin knows she should speak up, say something to give them hope, but speaking to this many people is new to her.  It calls to mind her memory of the gallery showing, and being swarmed with questions.  But Artemisia is with her, and her Persona reassures her, her presence stern but caring.

You can do this, little bird, her Persona says in her mind.  Rin smiles slightly, bends to push her mask off of her face and onto her forehead with her knee, and speaks up.

"Right now, anything you believe can come true," Rin says to the crowd. "So if you want your world back, believe in the Phantom Thieves.  You have to believe they can defeat that thing, and they will."

The crowd begins to turn with their words, and a few shouts from within embolden them all.  The Phantom Thieves logo appears on one of the massive screens over Shibuya Square and, a boyish voice says that they will "take the world."  The excitement reaches a fever pitch, as Rin makes her private plea.

"You all spoke with the other me, and helped her help me," she says, her whisper barely audible over the cries and cheers breaking out all around her. "I will always believe in you all, no matter what it takes."

Rin can see the faint lights, rising from the crowd towards the pillars in the sky where the Thieves are confronting Yaldabaoth.  Their belief in the Thieves, made manifest.  There is a burst of light, a shattering sound rings out across Tokyo, and a pillar of blue flames erupts from the platform the god is looking down at.  Rin recognizes the flames, a Persona being summoned.  Stars rain out across the city, and the flames fade.  For a moment, nothing happens, and the metal god takes a chance to gloat.

“So you have failed to harness the power,” it says in its distorted, booming voice. “No matter how many prayers of those foolish masses come together… hrm?”

The arrogant deity’s taunt is cut off, as the red hue leaves the sky, and the dark clouds gather over their heads, as thunder rolls out across the city.

Silently, a figure descends from the clouds, the same size as Yaldabaoth.  With six bat’s wings, great curving horns, and a halo to match the gods.

“Is that the Phantom Thieves’ doing too?  That’s awesome!” shouts a man nearby.

“Keep it up Phantom Thieves!” cries another.

Yaldabaoth attempts to destroy the Thieves and this new Persona, but the winged figure nullifies it.

“Impossible!” the god shouts.  Rin smiles in earnest; it won't be long now.

“They aren’t just Phantom Thieves anymore,” says a nearby highschooler. “That’s some kind of super-demon-lord!  So awesome!”

It all makes perfect sense to Rin.  A demon from the sky descends to stop a god that clawed its way from the depths of the earth.

The massive Persona draws an old-fashioned rifle from its side, and points it at the god’s head.  Yaldabaoth attempts to say something, no doubt to declare itself immortal, a supreme being, but with a noise like rolling thunder, the Persona fires and puts a hole in the head of the god.

The noise from the crowd is deafening.  Everyone is cheering, jumping up and down, or screaming themselves hoarse.  Rin sees Yuuki and Chika hugging, Hifumi with the first full smile Rin has ever seen on her, and the gruff man has raised his fist, pumping it in celebration.  Rin closes her eyes and takes it all in.  The world is free, and so is she.

Something shifts in the world, and Rin opens her eyes to see that everyone around her has frozen, and the red rain has flooded the world, up to past her waist.  She searches, moves through the red fluid to see if there is anyone still moving.  What is happening?  She thinks she might have spotted a group of other people still wandering the street, when the sun peeks out from behind the black clouds.  The red fluid surrounding her cracks, then shatters like glass, the shards floating and disappearing into motes of light, as the rays of the sun eat away at the bones and crystals scattered around the street, returning Tokyo to something approaching normal.  Rin tries to move towards the group of people that are still moving, but the street cracks open in front of her, pouring out endless light.  The whole world, frozen people and all, begins to disintegrate into the same motes of light.

Our worlds are separating, Artemisia says, to calm Rin’s growing panic.  Rin understands, this must mean that Dr. Maruki was able to keep up his end of their deal.  

Though I will always be with you, we may not speak again, Artemisia continues.  So let me tell you, that it was an honor and a privilege to aid you, little bird.

And thank you for helping me, Rin responds, internally.

Rin feels a mental smile from her Persona, as the light of the world grows so bright that she has to close her eyes.

Until we meet again, Rin Tezuka.

Rin can hear another voice begin to speak, from somewhere above her.

“The whole world is a product of cognition… not just the Metaverse. It can be freely re-made.  The same goes for you, and everyone else. Soon a new world will come, one where mankind isn't held captive. The world will shine brightly as long as you hold hope in your hearts. Remember, there's no such thing as the ‘real’ world. What each person sees and feels, those are what shape reality. This is what gives the world infinite potential. 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. The world exists within all of you!”

Rin smiles to herself, as a tear rolls down her cheek and the world fades to white.

Maruki felt a shift in the fabric of the world, and watched as the central focus of the cognitive realm reappeared.  A massive temple/panopticon hybrid that fading into view, lowering itself back to fill the void at the heart of the Prison

It is time, Azathoth told him.  Together, they crossed the gap into the structure, made of identical jail cells, each filled with a red glow and a single person, dazed and confused.  Shadows, Azathoth had told him, the repressed, other halves of a person.

They moved downward to the center of the structure, and in the hole where the God of Control had existed, Azathoth positioned itself.

At this very moment, this spot is the center of the universe, his Persona explained.  And here, we can create the world anew, plant the seeds to seize control of reality.  Right now, we are at the nexus of everything.

Azathoth's tentacles grew and multiplied, and then plunged down into the hole at the center of the temple, like roots searching for nutrients, and the rest of the tentacles mirrored them, spreading up and out to hold the structure together as it quaked.  Maruki felt power surge within him.  He knew his Persona was no pushover, but here, at the temporary crux of all thought in Tokyo, his power was magnified a hundred-fold.  He could feel every mind in the city, each of them now blissfully unaware, as the events of the day unwound themselves with the separation of the dimensions.  He could feel Azathoth stop the separation at the last moment, so they still overlapped enough for their plan to work. 

Together, he and Azathoth were like a god... the world was theirs to control.

Well, perhaps not quite yet.

We cannot complete the transformation from here, Azathoth announced. We will need a base, a place to study and research this realm.  Your laboratory in Odaiba will suffice.

"But..." Maruki said, confused. "There is no lab there.  Shido pulled the funding and the plans were scrapped.  They’re building a stadium there instead."

In the physical world, yes.   Maruki gazed up at the unmoving eyes of his Persona, but he could hear the faintest smile in its voice.  But in your heart, it is already complete.

Maruki understood: just as the Phantom Thieves explored the cognitive inner worlds of certain criminals, he and Azathoth could work from within Maruki's own inner world, centered at the site of the cognitive psience lab that had never been finished.  He had to admit, the plans for the lab being scrapped by his old university was crushing, and he had dwelled on it a fair bit; it only made sense that his own cognitive world would take the shape of the building he had been promised, but denied.

It will take time and research to correct the entire world, Azathoth said.  But from here, you can begin to make small changes for those you care about.  Who deserves their new world right away?

Maruki thought for a moment.  Two figures came to mind: Akira Kurusu, the crucial aid to his research and heroic Phantom Thief; and Rin Tezuka, the talented artist who deserved her lost love.  He would start with them.

Then let us begin with those two.  Here, in this unlighted chamber beyond time and space, we shall dream of a new world, a new reality, a dream from which the world shall never wake.

Maruki walked forward into the waiting, writhing tentacles of his Persona, allowing himself to be taken in, as he touched the center of the cognitive world.  It was staggering, to feel every human mind, every want and need and pain and joy.  Azathoth let him focus, and find the thread of thought he needed.

Maruki located their minds; like single grains of sand in the endless desert of mental Tokyo.  He opened them up, found what both of them wanted the most, their regrets and wishes, and with his newfound power, he nudged the world.  First, Kurusu-kun’s new world.  His biggest regret surprised Maruki, but it also made perfect sense.  Resurrecting the dead was surprisingly easy, and the revived detective would immediately have something to do; claiming responsibility for the mental shutdowns.  That should keep everyone occupied.  Tezuka-san was trickier, but not impossible; he would just extend his reach, and place her where she belonged, with the person she belonged with.

It wasn’t just gratitude that guided his action, as he gathered the wishes of the other Phantom Thieves to puzzle out over the coming week.  He had to work around the Persona in each of their minds, to keep them from rejecting their new reality.  If anyone could pose a threat to his plans, it was a group of fellow Persona-users.  He wasn't deceiving them per se, changing their minds to accept their new lives, but they might not understand what was happening, and it would be a shame for one of them to reject their perfect lives and try to fight Maruki on pure reflex. 

It was like... anesthesia during a surgery, he reasoned to himself.  If they were aware of what was happening, they would all thrash and endanger themselves.  He'd keep them all comfortable and contained until his work was complete, and they'd all be better for it.

The Phantom Thieves had saved the world, now it was up to him to make a world worth saving.

Rin stands in the middle of Shibuya, wondering if any of what she remembered had actually happened.  People were passing by on their way home from work, or out for last minute-Christmas shopping, chatting about politics and weather and tv shows, not one of them acknowledging that a mecha proclaiming itself god had just tried to take over Tokyo.  

The thoughts of if what happened was real, or if it was even worth doubting the reality of the situation chase each other around her head, until a snowflake lands on nose, and she shivers.  It’s snowing on Christmas Eve, that should be nice, right?  But Rin is underdressed, still in just her pants and shirt while it begins to snow.

She’s also extremely tired.  One of the ways she knows, in her heart, that what happened was real is the bone-deep exhaustion that has settled inside her.  She needs to get back to Kosei, to sleep it off and then get answers from the Phantom Thieves.  She looks around, shivering in place and trying to get her bearings, when a tan coat is placed about her shoulders.  She’s confused, but looks up at the person who did it, and sees a tall boy with shaggy, brown hair, in a white dress shirt and black gloves.

“Pardon my presumption, but you look a bit cold and lost,” he says, wearing a smile that seems oddly practiced.

“I was both of those things,” she says, and then a moment later, she remembers to add “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.  His eyes are a deep brown, and his face looks familiar.  She almost remembers someone showing his face to her… or perhaps she’s seen it on TV… “Do you need directions?”

Rin shakes her head, as she’s remembered the way back to Kosei. “You can take your coat back, I’m close to where I need to be.”

He smiles, slightly more genuine this time.  “Keep it, I won’t be needing it anymore.”  He turns and walks into the crowd without another word, making a beeline for a woman in a business suit and a faintly familiar high schooler with frizzy black hair.

Rin wanders back to Kosei, wondering what she should do.  When the day began, she was planning on never seeing Yusuke again, but that was before she spoke with her Shadow, awakened a Persona, defeated an angel, and came together with her friends to watch the Phantom Thieves save the world.  Will they remember the red world?  Will Yusuke?

She arrives back at the Kosei dorms, and sees something that unexpectedly warms her heart.  It’s Yusuke, sitting just outside her door, the scarf she bought him wrapped around his neck.  It’s way too colorful, she knew he would love it.  He looks up from his phone at her from her approach, and smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Rin,” he says, standing up.

“It’s not Christmas yet, we’ve still got a few hours,” she counters.

“Indeed,” he says. “I did want to talk with you for a moment.”

Rin makes a noise as she slides her door open.  Yusuke follows her into her room, and gives her new tan coat a curious look as she shrugs it off into a pile.  Rin doesn’t know what she should do with it.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Yusuke says, as they sit down, Rin on her bed and Yusuke in her desk chair. “A matter of major importance…  Since about this spring I… well… I’ve been operating-”

Rin knows where he wants to go with this. “You’re a Phantom Thief, right?”

Yusuke’s eyes grow wide, and Rin smiles. “How did you know?” 

“I’ve been trying to draw your weird gangly limbs for over six months,” she says, nonchalantly. “When I saw that big announcement you all made, I could tell it was your body right away.”

Yusuke laughs quietly, his head in his hands.  “And to think, we all mocked Akira for letting so many in on the secret…”  He raises his head and looks into her eyes.  “You must have a lot of questions.”

“So many questions,” Rin says, swaying in place slightly, with her eyes closed. “But I’m also so tired that I’m not really sure if I’m still awake or dreaming this talk with you, so I would like to talk later, like maybe tomorrow, if that’s alright with you, Yusuke.”

“Of course,” he says, standing up and moving to the door.  “I am also quite tired.  Sweet dreams, Rin.”  He exits her room and closes the door.

Rin is extremely tired, but she has to get ready for bed, and in getting up she spots the painting of the “knight’s helmet” she had been painting for months.  Somehow, her Shadow had been trying to warn her about Yaldabaoth in her dreams.  She smiles, remembering Artemisia and the end of the ‘god.’  She’s almost asleep, but she knows that there’s one change she has to make to this painting for it to be complete.

Rin finishes her alteration to the painting, then rolls into her bed, to await tomorrow, where all will be explained to her.

As she falls asleep, Rin feels the strangest sensation of being moved.  Her vision swims with colors out of space, and she falls to the land of dreams.

Rin wakes up from a dream that was extra absurd and rolls over, trying to remember it.  There were… chains?  Angels?  Bones soaring over Tokyo?  A therapist with an Outer God inside him?

Her head feels full of clouds again like it always is.  But the dream is over and someone is knocking at her door.

She sits up, and she looks around.  She’s back in her room at Yamaku Academy, the cream-colored walls an unwelcome sight.

“You awake yet Rin?” asks the voice outside her door.  Right, she was supposed to talk to Yusuke someone.  Someone, like the person talking: Hisao Nakai, her ex boyfriend.

“Sorry,” she says sitting up in bed.  “ I shouldn’t be here.  I didn’t sleep well.”

Hisao opens the door. “Well, that’s okay.  We can take it easy today.  It’s Christmas, after all.”

“ Why am I here, Hisao?  I should be in Tokyo.   Thank you,” she says.

This is wrong.  She wants to scream that this is wrong.  What could be wrong?  Her life is perfect, after all.

Chapter Text

Yusuke celebrated with the Phantom Thieves on Christmas Day.  Akira informed them all of Akechi's miraculous survival, and how he had surrendered himself to Sae.  Even Morgana managed to survive the collapse of the Metaverse and return to them.  All in all, it was a wonderful Christmas celebration.

But the whole day, Yusuke could not shake the feeling that he was forgetting something.  His thoughts kept returning to the previous night... He was supposed to bring something... or someone to the celebration?  He couldn't quite remember what it was supposed to be, but the faintest memory of a promise lingered in the back of his mind.

Returning back to the dorms, he saw the colorful scarf hanging in his room, a gift from Rin to himself, for making it through the holidays.  He'd have to wear it the next time they gathered.

And for the rest of the week remaining in the year, Yusuke did not dwell on the promise he had been made to forget.

Rin Tezuka sits in the Yamaku painting class, unsure as to why everything feels so unfamiliar.  She can remember sitting in this class multiple times a week for the last year, working on her portfolio for admissions to a college, so she's at a loss as to where this persistent belief that she should be somewhere else is coming from.

Well, perhaps not a total loss.  Hisao has been talking about a big science school in Tokyo, and Nomiya Sensei has been saying that he knows some people at a big art college in Tokyo, so maybe her strange waking dream of having been in Tokyo for the past year is fueled by all the talk of Tokyo.

She wanders through the week, unable to explain her sense of unease.  Everyone around her is acting like she's always been at Yamaku.  Emi helps her with lunches and clothing, Hisao talks with her while they gaze at the clouds, and they go shopping for a new coat for her when the first snowfall.  Misha and Snaps, the Student Council president, aren’t so friendly anymore, and the burned girl is alone in the library most days now that Lily left.  Some of this feels new, even though she can remember it all happening.  It feels… strange.

“I left, I left, I was at Kosei, I was with Yusuke, what is happening to me, what is going on please someone tell me!”

But Rin has never been able to explain how she feels or why she feels that way.  This sense of unease is no different, and when the new year rolls around she'll be ready to face it with Hisao.

Midnight, New Years Day. 

A pulse is released from the Odaiba construction site.  It blankets all of Tokyo, then spreads to all of Japan.

In its wake, the world changes.  The world most had known is subsumed by a new reality, as the shimmering form of an otherworldly research tower becomes visible above Odaiba, to those who choose to see it.

From a nearby building top, a thing that is not human observes the new world, in the guise of a man.

Even in his absence, the wager he had struck with his opposite, Igor's wretched master, still played out: would humanity reach enlightenment or destroy itself?

Amusingly, the new world appeared to be doing both at once.  He chuckled to himself.  He had been banished years ago, exiled to the most distant corner of creation, but his connection to the darkness of humanity’s collective unconscious remained.  The doctor's grief had called to him, and he'd been able to grant the doctor a boon, just as She-Who-Invites had done, years earlier.  He had granted the doctor a Persona, one of his kin.

With the Persona, the doctor had manifested an impossible dream.  A dream world that he was free to wander and observe from his exile.  Now, all that was left to do was for humanity to live out their perfect lives, until the once-real world crumbled to nothing, leaving only the dream.

And then, after all these years, he would finally have won.

Yusuke awoke bright and early on the first of January, eager to start the new year.  The holiday break was almost over, and he wanted to begin the year with the traditional shrine visit.  He talked with Madarame-sensei as they prepared breakfast in the atelier kitchen together about what shrine he should head to, and he said that Meiji Shrine was the best place to make your New Year's wishes.

He thanked his mentor for the advice, and he set out for the shrine after finishing breakfast.  The traffic and crowds were surprisingly light, and he was able to meet up with most of his friends (minus Akira and Morgana) by pure accident about a block away from the shrine.

"Fancy meeting all of you here!" Futaba said, in her lime-green, flower-patterned kimono, and they all giggled.  All the girls of the team were in their best dress kimonos, providing Yusuke with a striking view of traditional Japanese beauty, first thing in the morning.  Even Ryuji’s paint-stained shirt was striking in its own way.  There were high spirits all around as they made their way to the shrine, and they found Akira and Yoshizawa-san having already completed their visits.

They all conversed, Ryuji wanting to get everyone together for a brunch or some other outing, but most of them had plans.  Ann was shopping with her friend who had jumped off the Shujin roof Shiho, Futaba, Makoto and Haru each had plans with their dead parents, and Yusuke himself had plans, as he and his sensei were finishing preparations to have his late mother's artwork shown at the museum in Ueno.  Madarame had stolen preserved the artwork, and it was finally ready to be shown to the public; his mother's last gift to him.

Akira looked around, confused as they all discussed their plans for the day.  Perhaps he was just used to all of them being available any time for Palace infiltration activities, he was just surprised to see that they were all busy at the same time.

They all broke for the day, and went their separate ways, and Yusuke wondered if Akira would be able to stop by the showing in Ueno.  He would have to extend an invitation.

New Year's Day doesn't feel like a new year, to Rin.  It feels... the same.  There's a haze in the air, some kind of scintillating, gossamer nothingness that pervades the entire world, and she can't quite pin down what it is.

This world is a lie.

Or maybe it's just her imagination again.

Regardless, she and Hisao decide to head into town for their first shrine visit.  It does feel like it would be a fun outing, and it would be something to take her mind off of the fact that she shouldn't be here the strange unease she still feels on occasion, and she'll get to wear that kimono that Emi got her after the last year’s school festival.  It’s purple, with yellow-green floral edges at the bottom and sleeve’s hem, with butterflies in pale pastel pinks and blues all over it.  Rin likes the butterflies, but the green is kind of ugly to her. 

Emi texted she would be busy this morning, so it falls to Hisao to help her get dressed.  It takes a while, as Hisao knows about as much about how a kimono works as he does a bra, and he has to tie the sleeves up for her so they don’t drag on the ground.  When he’s finally finished, he steps back and assesses her.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and Rin can hear that he means it.

No one has ever called her beautiful before.

“Thanks,” she responds. “You should have gotten one.”

He chuckles slightly as he throws a coat over his argyle sweater vest. “Maybe you can get me into a yukata for Tanabata this year.”

They make their way towards Miyagiken Shrine, very close to the school campus.  On their way out, they encounter the Student Council president, Snaps Shizune, and her interpreter Misha.  Misha has her curls back.  They’re signing to each other, the conversation floating without a sound between them as they walk on a path perpendicular to the one Rin and Hisao are on, eventually meeting the main path (okay, there is the sound of rustling fabric, Rin has to concede.)  They are also dressed in kimonos, Shizune’s is solid, dark blue with white snowflakes around the sleeves and bottom edge, while Misha’s is white around the torso, but transitions to black at the bottom, with lotus blossoms snaking up the side.

“Hey, there!” Hisao calls out. “Headed to the shrine?”

Misha turns and waves to them, as does Shizune after a delay, realizing they are being addressed as Misha quickly signs his greeting to Shizune, before responding.  “We sure are, Hicchan!” she says, her hands continuing to move, translating her own speech for Shizune.  “Would you like to head over together?” Shizune looks a little embarrassed at this, but she doesn’t sign anything herself.

“Sure thing,” Hisao says, and they begin to walk together.  Rin and Shizune make eye contact, the two silent ones of this group as Misha and Hisao talk a bit.  Shizune’s always bossy and taking charge, but she does seem more relaxed today, maybe because it’s a holiday. Shizune gives Rin a tiny smile, and moves up beside Misha, and takes her hand in her own, grasping it and lacing their fingers as they walk.  Misha tries to continue signing one-handed for a second before realizing what was happening, and accepting her silence.

They were barely on speaking terms, how can they be that close all of a sudden?

Misha seems to be the one who is a little embarrassed now, but Hisao notices as well, and falls back a bit to walk with Rin again, letting Shizune and Misha take the lead down the sidewalk.

At the entrance to the shrine, the group finds two more familiar faces: Lilly and the burned girl Hanako.  Hanako has her hair tied up in a bun, and her kimono is sky blue, with some kind of pink peacock pattern wrapping around it.  She’s guiding Lilly by the arm, helping her find her way to the shrine.  Lilly’s dressed in a very fancy bright red kimono, with golden bamboo patterns, and a fur collar.  She still has her cane, but she’s not using it at the moment, just accepting Hanako’s guidance.

Shizune breaks holding hands to sign, and Misha chuckles.

Since when has Misha ever had a laugh that small?

“If it isn’t the class rep?” Misha says, and Hanako and Lilly turn toward the group.  A small smile alights on Lilly’s face, but Hanako looks a little annoyed.

“Oh, it must be the esteemed Student Council president and company,” Lilly says, her voice extremely polite.  Hanako whispers something in her ear and she adds: “Hello, Tezuka-san, Nakai-san.”

Hisao waves and says a tiny hello, and Lilly and Shizune trade a few more barbs though Misha, but Rin doesn’t listen.  She is focusing on Hanako.  She’s never seen this much of her face.  It was burned, she was burned.  It must just be the new hairstyle.

“And of course your New Year’s kimono is extra gaudy,” Misha says as Shizune smirks, but Misha frowns. “Shicchan, that’s a bit mean, don’t you think?”

“Oh?” Lilly says, a similar frown on her face. “My sister picked it for me, I find it comfortable and warm.  Hanako, is it really that ostentatious?”

“You just looked so comfortable wearing it, I didn’t want to say anything,” Hanako responds.  She didn’t stutter at all.  Where is her stammer?  “It’s very pretty, though.”

“You look very expensive,” Rin says.  They all giggle, then move into the shrine, and say their New Year’s wishes (Hisao has to pull the rope for her) and as they all step down the front steps of the shrine, two more figures approach.

One is Emi, in her own kimono: pale green with a pattern of birds in flight.  Beside her is a tall man, an adult.  He has sandy blonde hair like Emi, and is dressed in business wear and a jacket.

“Sorry I’m late!” she says, running up.  “My dad came to visit, and we had to meet up nearby!”

He’s dead.

She gestures to the man at her side, and he gives a wave and a greeting, but Rin doesn’t hear it.  She’s focusing on Emi’s legs, she’s barefoot, with geta wooden sandals on.

She’s not supposed to have feet.

Rin’s not sure why she’s so focused on Emi’s legs.  It’s not like they’re anything special, even as a runner she’s super thin.

Her dad is alive and she has her legs back and none of this is possible!

But it’s not like Rin really knows why she thinks about anything.  But the ever-present unease has returned with a vengeance, and with it comes the beginnings of a headache.  She can’t pay attention to the conversations between everyone else, her head hurts too much.  Hisao looks down, and she can see in his eyes that he understands, and he makes an excuse for them to leave.  The group agrees and they all part ways from their shrine visit.

Why is this happening?  Why are everyone’s lives better but also wrong?

Her head is a maelstrom of impossible thoughts, each trying to claw their way out.  Hisao silently gets her out of her kimono and lets her lay down.  He gets some headache pills and a glass of water, without her even needing to ask.

“I can tell when you’ve had enough socialization for the day,” he says, as he offers the capsules and then holds the glass to her lips to help her swallow them.  She wants to say that it wasn’t the people, it was the fact that it’s all wrong something else, but she can’t say what it was, so she just nods and lies down.

How long are you going to accept this?

The first week of the new year progresses, and Rin’s unease and headache refuses to abate.  Hisao had made plans, but he readily cancels them, as Rin continues to feel unwell.

You made a contract to never hide.  To speak out.

Rin tries to pass the time by painting, but her normal subjects don’t seem to want to come to mind.  Instead, there are images of a broad, blue woman with a spear, a skeletal deer draped in black and green rags, a golden cross that leaks coiling, blue blood, and a tall, skinny boy with neatly parted dark blue hair, a thin face and delicate eyes.  

Yusuke.

She doesn’t know who he is, but he feels important.

After five days of headache, she just wants something to take her mind off the pain.  She’s sitting with Hisao in his room, sprawled across his bed as he’s working on his homework, listening to some kind of internet radio station for relaxing music, when she finally thinks of the questions she wants to ask.

“Hisao, when did we start dating?” she asks.

He hums quietly, considering.  "This feels like a trick question."

"Then what's the trick answer?" she responds.

"Well…" he sighs, and leans back in his chair.  "You could say it's when I helped you out with the mural… or when we went to the school festival together."

"Emi was there, though," Rin says.

"But watching the fireworks with you was special," Hisao counters.  "But we still weren't close, were we?  You could say it was me joining the art club, or when you showed me the Worry Tree."

Rin likes the idea of the relationship starting there.  When she revealed the Worry Tree to him.

"You could say that... that night at the atelier was it," his cheeks flush with the memory.

"When we did things friends shouldn't do," Rin says.  It's true, if friends shouldn't do those things, as Hisao said, then it makes sense they would have started their relationship there.

Hisao brushes past her comment. "But I like to think it really started at the showing.  The big gallery event.  All those teachers and art critics, taking in your art, asking you questions, wanting an interview..."

Rin remembers it better than she does most things.  And yet...

Hisao spins around in his chair to look at her.  "And when they started to bombard you with too many questions and you wanted to run, I remember putting my hand around your shoulder, and looking in your eyes, and working to answer their questions together."

What?

"It was tough, but I had grown to understand you, really understand what makes you Rin over the those months."

That's not what happened.

"And when you looked at me after they were all satisfied, I could feel-"

That's not what happened!  Rin is having trouble listening, due to the pain in her head.

"-the look in your eyes, when we were alone, and we leaned closer-"

THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED!  The pain is growing, she can't hide the grimace from her face, but Hisao is glancing away.

"-and then you said: 'You understand me.'"

IT'S ALL THAT I WANTED, BUT I KNOW IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!

Rin winces.  It's like someone is screaming in her ear, but there is no sound.  Pain shoots through her head.  She needs to leave, she needs to think alone.

"Rin, what's wrong?" Hisao asks, his concern so genuine that it's annoying.

"So much, so so much.  My head hurts, I'm going to get some fresh air, maybe see Nurse," she manages to say, as she stumbles to his door and dons her sandals.

"Do you want any he-"

"No.  No," she cuts him off, and staggers away down the hall.  Out of the dorms and into the courtyard.  The January air is crisp and clean, but sobering in its chill.  She finds a bench and throws herself down on it.

How much longer, little star?

The pain in her head is only growing.  It's like a shard of glass, driven between the halves of her brain, prying them apart.

Why is the memory so painful?  Why is it not the way Hisao described?  She wants to believe it's true, that she finally found someone who can see inside her and understands what she is thinking, but she can't really believe such a thing.

Keep going, you're almost there.

Why are there two sets of memories in her head?

One where she collapsed, overwhelmed by the crowd's questions, and she and Hisao wandered out into the darkness and he broke her heart.

One where Hisao embraced her and helped her answer all their questions like he knew exactly what they all wanted to hear.

The two memories swirl and spin in her head, but refuse to mix, like oil and water.  One feels cruel and real, the other perfect and impossible.

Keep going!

She stayed at Yamaku, to be with Hisao.

She left to attend a school in Tokyo.

And behind those memories, she can feel something else: something in her mind.  Something slipping between her memories, sifting and pruning her thoughts.  Something smooth and slick, but tipped by sharp, pointed claws.

Teal tentacles from an empty god, mindless in its dominion and endless in its slumber, selects a life and matching memories for her from among her deepest, dearest fantasies.

She screws her eyes shut so hard her ears rumble.  It doesn't blot out the pain or questions.

She hears a fluttering, shimmering sound near her right ear, and she opens her eyes to see a butterfly made of blue light float past her head.

Without a single thought, she stands to follow it.

It flies towards the edge of the courtyard, past the two newspaper girls walking together, past the science teacher, past the crowd of adults visiting the school, and she stumbles after it.

The butterfly arrives at its destination, an out-of-the-way patch of grass, and in a flash of light, it transforms.  Now, there's a set of dual sliding glass doors, just like a supermarket, or perhaps… the doors that led to the 22nd Corner gallery, standing in the grass.  Rin looks around in disbelief, but no one else seems to be able to see them.  A boy talking on his phone walks right by them, completely unaware.

The doors stand in the middle of the grass, leading to nowhere.  Their frames are a rich metallic blue, and on the glass of each door is a large dull-gold “V” logo ringed by a laurel wreath.  A gentle light spills out through the glass, from the other side.

Rin doesn't know where it leads, but steps forward towards the door anyways.  The two glass doors automatically slide apart when she steps in front of them, letting a faint blue mist spill out.  She walks forward into the light, to the faint sounds of a piano and a woman vocalizing.

You signed a contract once, you’ll sign another before this is through.

Chapter Text

The premiere of his mother's painting was everything Yusuke had hoped for and more.  It was a smash success, acclaimed by multiple publications within a day of the premiere.  Dozens of art critics and reporters had noted the exceptional brushwork, composition and use of color.

Yusuke and Madarame-sensei stood on the second-floor balcony of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum in Ueno, both watching the crowd gathering around the painting.  His mentor smiled as someone approached them, and Yusuke turned to see his leader friend, Akira Kurusu.  He looked... oddly nervous.  Pale, even.

Madarame put a hand on Yusuke's shoulder, and stepped away to let Yusuke and Akira talk in private.  Akira warily watched him leave, like he was suspicious of Madarame, which made sense.

"Akira, I'm so glad you could make it!" Yusuke said, beckoning him to the edge of the balcony, to show him the crowd of people admiring the self portrait .   “It was a long and arduous journey, but my mother’s final painting is finally on display.  It may only be for a single week, but I’m glad the world can finally acknowledge it in its unaltered form.”

Akira stared down at the painting and the crowd with such a sense of unease.  What was wrong, was he not feeling well?  He thought for a moment, before turning back to Yusuke.  “And why did it take so long?”

“Pardon?” Yusuke asked, taken aback.

Akira visibly mulled over his words before continuing.  “Your mother’s last painting, it’s an amazing masterpiece, but… why did it take so long to show it?”

“ Because Madarame stole it Because she completed it so shortly before her death, and in settling her affairs Sensei wanted to avoid being seen to capitalize on her death,” Yusuke explained, feeling a little odd himself.  He could have sworn that he had explained the circumstances of his mother’s passing, Madarame’s stewardship of him and his mother’s body of work, but… the memory of that first explanation failed to materialize.  Odd.

“Ah,” Akira said.  “I see.” 

He did seem unwell, so Yusuke decided to extend an offer. “You seem to be a bit tired, Akira.  Perhaps you skipped a meal?  You must stay for dinner.”

Something about that offer seemed to break Akira’s grim mood, for he gave a tiny smirk.  “Really?  You, paying for my meals?”

“Sensei will insist,” Yusuke said. Akira was right, it was odd for Yusuke to be the one offering a meal.

Akira shook his head, vaguely dismissing the offer of dinner, then looked down at the painting and crowd, grim expression returning.  What was going on with his friend?

“Hey, Yusuke…” he began, searching for the right wording.  “Is Madarame a good sensei?”

“Of course not he is,” said Yusuke, confused. Or… was he?  

“Plucking talented, yet troubled artists allows me to find promising pupils and take their ideas.”

What was happening with his memory?  Yusuke’s brow furrowed in concentration, unable to recall his lessons and tutelage under his Sensei properly.  A tiny, sad smile curled at the edge of Akira’s mouth as his gaze moved from Yusuke down to the crowd and painting.

“The ‘Sayuri’ certainly deserves this praise, after all it’s been through,” he said, gesturing at the painting.

What? “The… ‘Sayuri’ ?” Yusuke asked, even further confused.  “That’s not the painting’s name, it’s…”

“To think this painting was the source of Madarame’s distorted desires.”

“No, wait…” Yusuke said.  What was happening?  Why was he remembering things that never happened?

“The only saving grace is that my mother will never know what transpired.”

Akira looked at his confusion with… what was that expression?  Pain?  Hope?  Sorrow?

“My apologies, Akira, but I’m suddenly not feeling well myself,” Yusuke said, clutching his head.  “I have to be alone…”  He needed to think.  There was something… something important…

As Yusuke left the balcony, he could faintly hear Akira behind him.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Fox.”

Rin gazes around the blue room she wandered into.  It’s an art gallery.  A strangely decorated, sparsely lit art gallery, but she’s been in more than enough of them to know what it's supposed to be.  The interior walls that hold painting are draped with a fuzzy, deep blue fabric.  Everything about the room is overwhelmingly blue, but it helps her focus.  Soothes the mind.  There’s a song in the air of the room, a woman vocalizing but not speaking, a piano and violin in a gentle melody, weaving together an aria of the soul.

Rin notices that her headache is gone.  And somehow, she can now remember her life before Christmas.  Her time at Kosei, her friendship with Yusuke, the awakening of her Persona, Artemisia.  But even now, her Persona is silent.

Her thoughts wander to the room.  The art on display is… very concrete.  It’s so far from her style, all very representative and realistically rendered, even if the imagery is… fantastical.  On a nearby wall, a young man with blue hair over one eye and a dark school uniform with a red armband points straight up to a massive, shattering moon, a terrible cosmic larva wreathed in gossamer limbs emerging from it, the clouded sky behind him an odd blue-green color.  His eyes are closed, his face resigned to fate.  On the opposite wall, the same scene, but a brown-haired girl in a similar uniform, with a bright red bow around her neck.

Rin wonders what there two are doing.  They look… accepting.  Sacrificing.  The paintings are framed in dull gold, and the plaque beneath the frame gives a title, but no artist credit.  The painting of the boy is titled Burn My Dread, and the opposite painting of the girl is called Burn Our Dread.

Rin moves onward, to come to another painting.  A boy with dark hair, an earring and a gray school uniform.  His messy hair snakes out onto vines and branches with sparse leaves, and the shape of a butterfly looms bright behind him.  There is interplay between the bright wings of the butterfly and the dark outline of the vines snaking down his form as his arms are folded.  He stares out at the viewer, but Rin can’t parse the expression on his face.  The title plaque reads Birth of a Dream.

Rin wanders from painting to painting, hoping the heroic images rendered there can shed light on what this strange place is.

Around the corner is another painting of two figures.  On the right, a teenage boy with short silver hair and glasses, wielding a katana while dressed in a black uniform with a checkered collar.  On the right, a young man with uneven black hair and yellow eyes, dressed in a suit, a revolver loosely held in one hand.  They are staring at each other, squaring off, ready to fight.  Behind them two large figures lunge at each other.  The one on the right is armored with a coat and large glaive, the other is identical in form, but is a shadowy silhouette streaked with red veins.  They are Personas, Rin realizes, the two men’s Personas.  Behind each of them, there is the ruins of a town, and then a sky made of stripes of solid red and black.  It is titled Magatsu.

Another painting across the way.  Where the last had two figures facing each other, in this painting a boy and girl look away from one another, each in profile view.  The boy on the left side faces left, and has brown hair and a dark uniform with white trim.  He is set against a white background criss-crossed with black lines of barbed wire.  A jagged, painted tear in the middle divides him from the girl on the right, who has shoulder-length black hair and a large pink heart on the breast of her brown and tan outfit.  Her gaze is pointed up to contrast his gaze pointing down, and the background on her side is solid red, but for the black silhouette of a spear pointed directly at her heart.  The plaque reads The Other Side.

Rin turns and realizes she had entered a large open space when she walked to the last painting.  On the opposite side of the room, some ten meters away, is another painting, one she painted… but not quite.  It shows a skeletal deer in black rags, staring out at the viewer from a shadowed, desaturated forest, but now behind the figure is a massive snake.  Lines of rich blue-green light slowly spiral up the body of the serpent, between its dark, iridescent scales as it looms, massive over the deer, its eyes the same eerie blue-green.  She’s seen the snake before, in her dreams, but it wasn’t blue.  It was golden.

And then Rin notices the man standing in front of the painting.

He’s an extremely dark figure, dressed in all black, so Rin tells herself that anyone would be slow to notice him.  He’s facing away from her, gazing at the painting of the deer and snake.  He’s wearing a black trenchcoat, with long dark hair that hangs almost to his elbows.  His pants and shoes are the same black, he even has a black beanie on.  

“Hello,” Rin calls, tentatively.  The man turns in place to spot her.  He has a thin, older face, with a slight stubble and black sunglasses that completely hide his eyes.  Rin spots a black turtleneck beneath the coat.

“Hello,” he replies. “Good to know our message was able to reach you.”

“The butterfly?” Rin asks.  He nods, and there is a pause, as he waits for something.  Questions!  Rin should ask them. “What is this art gallery?”

“This location is known as the Velvet Room,” he says, gesturing around with an open hand.  His voice is scratchy and simple.  “It exists between dream and reality, between mind and matter.  It’s a place that only those bound by a contract may enter… or perhaps that is how my old employer would describe it.”

“So, you don’t run the Velvet Room?” Rin asks.

“No, nor does my old employer,” he says. “It’s a place that was created to guide those with the power of ‘Persona.’  To aid those who would oppose the destruction of the human world.”

Rin swallows. “Like a giant golden god of control.”

“Yes: gods, demons, Shadows,” he says, pointing to a few images set around the room, depicting inhuman creatures of liquid darkness with numbered masks.  “Monsters from the id, and other beings from the human heart that want to dominate or destroy the world.”

Rin cocks her head to the side.  “May I ask your name?”

A soft chuckle escapes the man.  “You may ask for it, and I shall give you one,” he says. “When I worked in the Velvet Room, I was known as the Demon Painter.”

“You don’t work here anymore?” Rin asks.

“No, I left several years ago to pursue my own interests, as my employer had found help from another family.  But recent threats have compelled my return.”

“You mean the fact that everyone is living the life they wanted to have, instead of the real one,” Rin says.  It isn’t a question.

“Indeed,” the Demon Painter says. “Most people in Japan are living paradoxical, impossibly ideal lives.”

“What happened?”

“I was not present for the event, but my employer told me that after the latest ‘god’ tried  to take over the world, a human with a unique power intervened, and seized the power of the cognitive world to create the new reality.”

“A human?” Rin asks. She has a sinking feeling in her stomach, like she already knows where this was going.

“Yes, a human with the ability to affect memory and perception,” he says. “At the moment when the two worlds last overlapped and should have naturally separated, instead they used their power to change what people thought about their lives, which affected what the real world was.”

Rin feels the blood leave her face as memories of her life last year surface from the morass of her mind.

"Even if the Phantom Thieves can defeat its physical manifestation, anything short of a miracle means that the two dimensions will not be able to separate,” Maruki had said.  He had said that he needed to be at the root, the center of the mental world to fix the world.  He couldn't have meant… if he did…

“You seemed to be in so much pain, Tezuka-san, but you managed to find your own way out.  Now that I've seen that, and now that I know what this power is, I wanted to apologize to you, Tezuka-san. Had I known more, I would have found another way.”   He had… Has Dr. Maruki done this?  Why?  Why would he do this?  Was this his “other way”?

"Perhaps this is for the best, then."  He had already tried to alter her mind, and he had admitted to doing it to other people, ‘for their sake’ in his view.

A cold certainty begins to settle in Rin’s mind as the pieces fall into place.

“Yes,” the Demon Painter says, reading her face as the color drains from it. “You already know the man responsible.”

Anger like Rin has never felt before burns in her heart.  He lied to her.  

He lied to her.

He saw a world full of possibility and struggle, and decided that it was too uncertain for him.  He saw a world of half-empty glasses, and instead of looking at them as half-full, he decided that all glasses should be completely full, even if he needed to fill them with vinegar and rubbing alcohol; as long as they looked full.  The life he gave her, that he gave her friends at Yamaku, was served to them on a silver platter.  Emi had taken so much pride in being the best runner, even after her accident, and that was gone; steamrolled by a hollow imitation of her dreams.

And Hisao. Hisao devoted so much to trying to understand, but he never quite managed it…  But Rin realizes in her anger that that is what she loved about him.  That despite never truly knowing what to say, he never stopped trying, even after she left.  That was the Hisao she loved, and he had been replaced by a Hisao who implicitly understood her mind.  One who had never struggled to grasp her thought process, but who also had never challenged or pushed her.

Maruki had been so quick to give her what she thought she wanted, but he had only destroyed her only remaining relationships.  Transported back to Yamaku, she had lost Yusuke, Chika, Hifumi and Yuuki, and she’d been put into a relationship with a custom-tailored simulacrum of her ex-boyfriend.

Her breathing is unsteady, as she looks up at the Demon Painter, who is studying her expression.  “I need to see him,” she says, setting her resolve.  “I need to hear him justify this… this…”  She doesn’t have the words, but the Demon Painter nods, understanding. “And I need to stop this world.”

“Good,” is all he says.

She looks back at the man in black and asks the other question that has been bugging her.  “Why can’t I hear my Persona?”

He smirks slightly.  “That is a more complicated matter,” he says as he begins to walk towards her.  Not directly at her, but… closer. “In looking in your mind and the minds of other Persona users, the doctor was able to see each person’s Shadow, and a Shadow’s other form: a Persona.  He took extra care to seal each Persona, so they would not be able to recognize the change in reality.”

Rin is already displeased, and this new information does nothing to settle her nerves.  Her Persona is a part of her, and Maruki took extra care to suppress it, leaving her hollow.  Rin’s not sure what she’ll do when she sees him next, but it won’t be pretty.  Or perhaps she might judge his reasoning to be sound.  Who can say what will happen?  Ultimately, that’s a decision for Future Rin.

Present Rin sets her anger aside and has a new question, though.  “But if I can remember the other world, then why can’t I feel Artemisia?”

The Demon Painter sighs, and a new voice speaks.  “Protections of the Velvet Room,” a refined woman’s voice says, off to one side.  Rin turns to her left to see a new person (was she there the whole time?)  

She’s tall, taller than the Demon Painter, dressed in a blue coat that matches the room, with large golden buttons, black stockings and elegant heels.  She has skin of an unearthly pale complexion, yellow eyes and wavy, platinum hair held back by a blue hairband atop her head. She holds a book in one hand, a deep dull purple volume labeled ‘Le Grimoire’ in a dull gold font.  “This a place of safety, or at least it should be.  It was recently compromised, and we can only hold this manifestation together for a short time. The current reality is not… agreeable with the nature of this place.”

“Are you magic?” Rin asks, interrupting.

The woman smiles.  “Yes, in most ways a human would understand, I am ‘magic.’”

“Okay, good to know,” Rin says, having established the most important thing about the woman. “Then what’s this room doing to me?”

“It is suppressing the power of Persona,” the woman explains. “So that we could inform you what needs to be done.  The pain you experienced this past week was a Persona attempting to fight back against the state of reality, with no recourse except to thrash about inside you heart.”

“A Persona…” Rin says, contemplating, shifting from foot to foot. “So, like, awakening Artemesia again?”

“No…” the woman says, her eyes narrowing.  That expression means something, but Rin can’t remember what.  “A second Persona.”

Rin blinks.  “I thought you could only have one Shadow, and so only one Persona.”

The Demon Painter takes a half-step forward.  “That’s the common wisdom, especially among her family, who help run the Velvet Room these days: that only a few, specially chosen individuals can wield more than one Persona, absorbing the demons and Shadows of the Sea of Souls as alternate masks.”

He smiles at Rin, in a… conspiratorial manner.  (Rin learned that word from the blind boy that hangs around Hisao occasionally, and she’s proud to have remembered it.)  “But I’ll tell you a secret: anyone can have more than one Persona.  A Persona is a pact, a deal you make with yourself in your heart, and you can make more than one promise to yourself.  It was quite common, when I held her duties.  It certainly comes faster and much easier to a select few, though.”

“Am I a select few?” Rin askes, her eyebrow arched.

“No,” the woman says, flatly.  “You do not possess the power of the Wild Card.”

“But, she can still hold immense power,” the Demon Painter says, pointedly looking at Rin while responding to the woman.  Rin has the distinct impression that they previously argued about this.

Rin herself is not sure how to respond, but she has to say something. “So… if I get a second Persona, I can help set the world right?”

The Demon Painter smirks, and turns to the woman.  “Well, Margaret?  Could she?”

The woman touches her finger to her cheek, contemplating.  “Awakening another Persona could break the seal on her existing Persona, but doing so in the physical world would be impossible without the intervention of a much higher power.”

The Demon Painter folds his arms and leans back.  “Higher like Igor, or like Phi-” 

Something in the glare the woman gives him makes him not finish that sentence.  Rin doesn’t know what workplace drama is happening here, and she doesn’t want to know.  

But she does have an idea.

“Why can’t I do it here?” she asks.

The two adults look at her in an odd way.  “Can you remove the suppression effect?” the Painter asks.

“I can, but the collapse of this manifestation would follow soon after,” she says.  “I am not the master of the Velvet Room, they are indisposed at the moment.”

Rin shrugs. “You said that you can only hold this for a short time,” she says, nonplused.  She has the distinct feeling that someone else in her position would be asking many, many more questions, like ‘is this even real’ or ‘who is this master you mentioned’ or even ‘who are you and how is this possible’ but Rin has no time for such things.  Getting out of his ‘perfect’ reality comes first.  Besides, she witnessed a demon descend from heaven to put a god in its place, it makes sense to her that there are other higher powers both watching out for and looking to exploit humans.

The woman takes a moment to consider, before opening her dark mauve book and skimming it to a specific page.  She consults for a moment before speaking again.  “The pain will be immense.  Are you sure?”

“I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again,” Rin says, bracing herself.

The two adults glance at each other.  The Demon Painter shrugs and gestures to Rin.  “You heard the lady.”  A small part of Rin likes being called a lady and not a girl.

“Very well,” the blue-clad woman says, and both she and the Demon Painter take a step back.

Rin is suddenly struck with a sense of dread.  She had honestly forgotten what her first awakening was like, it was just a haze in her head.  But as the woman opens her book and the pages begin to flip themselves, Rin realizes that she can’t back out now, she steadies herself for whatever is about to happen.

For an infinite moment, all three stand in the gallery, waiting.  Then a pulse emanates from the woman, and Rin feels her headache return with a vengeance, a shard of agony sticking straight through her head, the pain radiating out from her head and down her back.  She doubles over and falls to her knees as the world darkens around her, and a new voice speaks in her mind.  A man’s voice.

At last we meet, little star.  He has trapped you in a gilded cage, told you this is the only way, the only world.  Why did it take so long?  Perhaps the temptation was too sweet?  The illusion too comforting, hmm?

“No,” Rin spits out as she gasps for breath.  “That’s not true.”

No?  Then why did you play along, nod obediently while the world around you lied?  You knew something was wrong, but you refused to accept it.  He gave you exactly what you wanted, but you were too frightened to see the seams, see the places where his doctrine fell short, all the holes in this story you’ve been forced to live.  So, having lived in the ideal, do you still wish to stay, an obedient pet in the doctor’s terrarium?

“No,” Rin mutters as her body shudders in pain.  “I won’t stay.  I cannot live with this lie.”

Ahh… Then we have an accord: I am thou, thou art I.  This is to be your choice: to walk the path of heresy and damnation, to shatter the lies of the one who would limit your vision, and tell you what the order of things is when you know better!  Let those who would condemn you proclaim your sentence with more fear than you shall ever feel to receive their scorn!

She staggers to her feet against the pain that still rings in her mind.

There is no one world, no single dream.  Reality should be as varied and vast as those who inhabit it.  Take this vow: no one can tell you what your world is: it is for you, and only you to decide!

“I will determine the truth with my own eyes!” Rin shouts into the gallery.  She feels the mask form against her face, the comforting, cool surface of her gray deer skull.

Yes!  Pull back the veil of the known and embrace infinity!  Reject antiquity, tradition, faith, and authority! Let us begin anew, together, by doubting everything we assume has been proven and find beauty in the unknown!  Reject the doctrine of those who proclaim themselves your betters and find the endless truth yourself!

Rin can see the two adults staring at her with expressions she can’t decipher.  She steadies herself, and then in one motion raises her right leg and strikes her own mask with her knee, shattering it.  The subsequent explosion of wind and pillar of light makes the Demon Painter stumble back a step, but the woman is unmoved.

As Rin slowly opens her eyes, she can see a new figure floating in front of her surrounded by the familiar licks of blue fire and loops of chains.  A large, robed figure, whose dark cloak hides swirling, multicolored nebulae inside.  The hood of his robe hides his face, but his eyes shine in the shade, twin stars burning, twinkling.  The bottom hem of his robe is licked by flames, orange flames, and in each of his dark red hands floats a tiny sun, each with a miniature solar system, orbital paths and all ringing around them.

My name is Giordano, little star, he says, gazing down at her with his eyes of starlight. Artemisia and I have eagerly awaited your return.  Let us depart, to find the one responsible for this mockery of reality, and hear what madness could lead him down this path.  

The figure dissolves back into her mask, and she closes her eyes to feel her clothes now transformed into the familiar black dress, pants and capelet.  The weight is comforting on her shoulders.  The sound of gentle clapping fills the air, and Rin opens her eyes to see the Demon Painter clapping, and the blue-clad woman giving her a gentle smile.

“Well, done!” he says. “Well done indeed.”

Rin breathes in and out, feeling both Personae in her mind.  She feels complete for the first time since Christmas.

“What now?” Rin asks, looking from the Painter to the woman.

“The cause of this phenomenon originates in Tokyo, where another guest of the Velvet Room leads the Phantom Thieves,” she says, reading from her book. “He is attempting to break the Phantom Thieves from the illusion of this world, with limited success.  Perhaps you can head there yourself, join their efforts.”  She looks at Rin, before she reads the slightly lost look on Rin’s face.  “Ah yes, according to my sister, you’ll find him in a small café in Yongen-Jaya called Leblanc.”

Rin nods her comprehension, and notices that the room is slowly growing brighter.  The deepest recesses of the art gallery are beginning to fall away, fading into a pure white light.  The collapse of the space has begun.

There’s something she needs to say first.

“Thank you, both of you.”

They give her soft smiles as the Velvet Room fades away into white light.

“Good luck,” one of them calls, before the world dissolves and Rin finds herself standing in the grass of the courtyard at Yamaku.  The sun is beginning to set.  She breathes the cool winter air, her head clear and her purpose certain.  

Glad you found your way back, little bird, Artemisia says in her mind.

Me too.

She sets out for dinner, a nap and to pack for her trip back to Tokyo.

From the roof of the main Yamaku building, the Demon Painter and Margaret watched Rin go.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” he asked, his voice hesitant and worried.

“She’s shown remarkable strength so far, and you provided excellent guidance,” Margaret supplied.  “I have no doubt that she will find her way.”

“I guess, I’m not really one for talking,” the Demon Painter sighed, then shoved his hands into his coat pockets.  “I suppose this is where you head back to trying to get everything in order with the old man, huh?

“Yes,” Margaret said, inclining her head to the Painter. “The central form of the Room was damaged by the imposter, and its functions are limited.  We also need to locate the root cause of this incident.”

There was silence between them for a moment, as the chill breeze rushed past them.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” the Painter said. “He’s found his way back from whatever dark corner Suou and Amano banished him to, hasn’t he?”

Margaret grimaced. “That may be a possibility.”

Another silence, more tense this time.

“Well…” the Demon Painter said. “You’d better get to that.  I’m getting old, I’ve done all I can.  Give the old man my regards.”

Margaret nodded, before raising her book and opening it to reveal a floating tarot card.  “Until we meet again,” she said, before she closed the book on the card and vanished in a ripple of light.

The Demon Painter smiled to himself, before taking the stairs out of the building and out into the city of Sendai.  Perhaps he would seek out his own old life, just to see what his ideal reality would look like.

Chapter Text

Yusuke could not focus at all.  Akira’s words echoed in his mind. 

“Is Madarame a good sensei to you?”

Why was he questioning that so much?  Why had Akira even asked it?

Why did some part of him want to answer ‘No’?

He gazed about the empty classroom at Kosei High.  Classes weren’t quite started again, but as a student of Ichiryusai Madarame, he had almost free reign of the school, and he needed to be alone.  He needed to be out of the atelier.  Something about it made him uncomfortable, but what he could not say.

Yusuke sighed deeply, and looked over at one of the paintings left on an easel over winter break.  It had been found just after Christmas, in an empty dorm room.  No one had claimed it, so it was stored here over the break.  It depicted what appeared to be the head and neck of a suit of armor, with an oddly geometric design language, and faint, multicolored patterns spreading out across the metallic surface, a halo of feathered wings above the head, and roiling clouds behind.  

But the most striking feature of the painting wasn’t painted at all.  There was a large, circular hole cut into the canvas.  It wasn’t perfect, as if someone had used a knife or similar tool, but it was close enough to present the image of a hole being bored through the head of the figure.

It felt…

“Pillage him, Satanael!”

…important somehow…

“Preposterous!  You dare rob the people’s wishes?”

…something vital…

“Begone.”

…like a promise.

Like he was forgetting something extremely important.  But the more he focused on the absence of memory, the more confused he became.   Perhaps… Perhaps he should speak with Akira again, after the exhibit for his mother’s painting was concluded.

Maybe Akira could explain… whatever was happening.

Over dinner, Rin reviews her plan.  Get to Tokyo, find the leader of the Phantom Thieves in Yongen-Jaya, and join up with him.  She’ll need a train ticket, but she has funds from her parents.  But… what will she say?  The break is almost over, and she can’t just leave… or can she?

This reality is one of fulfilled desires, Giordano offers. I reason that if you tell any who ask that you are heading to Tokyo to visit art schools, no one will find any reason to investigate.

It might work.  Just tell them that Sensei set the trip up, and tell him that her parents set it up.  But there’s also the matter of her place in this world…

Shattering the illusion and awakening us should have broken the world and placed you back in Tokyo, as a student of Kosei, Artemisia explains.  It was your wish to be here, and with that wish defied, I see no reason why you have remained in the student roster.

Rin’s also unsure of that.  She spoke with a few other students on her way here and none of them were shocked at her being here.  She’s not sure what that means.  Regardless, she finishes her omelet dinner and seeks out her art teacher, finding him in his office, catching up on tasks from over the break.  

He’s almost the same, but he feels… Rin isn’t sure.  Lower-energy?  There’s a gentleness and slowness to the way he looks over his spectacles as Rin approaches him.  Rin spins a quick lie about her parents wanting to visit schools in Tokyo with them, and how she completely forgot to tell him earlier, and can he please get her leave from classes after break?

He sighs deeply, with a sort of somber grin on his lips.  “Absolutely, Tezuka-san.  Your excellent work means you can afford to pass on some classes if it means getting into the right school,” he says, his voice much fuller and more gentle than it was normally.  It’s hard to imagine the roaring, barking laugh that he would normally have coming from this Sensei.  “Take your time, I’ll inform the other instructors.  It’s the least I can do for my star pupil.”

Rin thanks him and returns to her dorm room, looking to pack for her trip.  She just manages to drag her shoulder duffle bag out of her closet when a voice calls from her open doorway.

“What are you packing for?” asks Hisao’s voice, and Rin instantly has a terrible realization.  She slowly turns to look at her ex-boyfriend, leaning on his shoulder against the doorframe.

She broke her own illusion of being back at Yamaku… but not Hisao’s.  Their wishes were reciprocal, and his reality of wanting to be with her is still in place.

“I’m…” she pauses, unsure of what to say.  Would he accept the story just like Sensei?  They were in a perfect world, so would something happen if she left the school Hisao’s wish had dragged her back to?

“I’m looking at schools in Tokyo with my parents,” she says, after a moment. “I’ll be out for… a while.”

“Oh, well let me help,” he offers, walking in and closing the door, picking up her bag and placing it on her bed, unzipping it.  They pack together, as he talks about everything and nothing in particular.  She watches him as they pack and talk, grabbing clothes and toiletries for her.  Something’s different about him from the afternoon, but Rin can’t name what.  But separately, he’s also still different from the Hisao she knew before, in the real world.  He’s… happier; warmer, smiles more readily.

Rin feels guilty, staring at the happier Hisao and thinking of him as a fake, as the wrong Hisao, but it’s what she feels.  She can see in the ease of his grin, this is not the Hisao she loves, even if his love for her brought her here and made him like this.  It’s an unfair, lopsided relationship, and she needs to fix it.  She needs to put the world right.

No matter how tempting it is to stay here.

She finds something odd in her closet: the tan blazer the strange boy gave her on Christmas Eve.  Rin’s not sure why it made the trip to Yamaku with her and not her paintings, but she asks Hisao to pack it, thinking of trying to return it to the boy.  He looks at it a bit oddly, with the textless badge-like emblem on the breast pocket, but folds it away into the bag without a word.

Hisao finishes stuffing her bag, and she thanks him.  He moves to kiss her, but she mumbles something, and he catches himself, oddly self-conscious.

“I guess you’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” he says, and they bid each other good night.  Rin sleeps better than she has in weeks.

The next morning, he sees her off, helping with her bag and calling a taxi to the train station.  He helped her dress, and she’s got a knit shawl-like thing with a clasp over her shirt, something to keep her warm, and that she can easily shrug out of or unclasp with her mouth.  It was a gift, Rin thinks, from her parents.  Simple, solid stripes of gray and green and aqua that cut across her form diagonally. 

They stand together, just outside the Shinkansen bullet train, at a slight loss for words.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Hisao asks, unable to hide his consternation.

She stares at him, deep into his brown eyes.  He’s worried about her.

Logically, Rin understands that once the world is fixed, this should all go away.  Hisao probably won’t even remember all this, it will be like it never happened, so she should just walk out and fix it.  She could try to snap him out of this illusion, but where would she even begin?  No, she should just leave and address the real issue.

But his eyes… She wants to stay, and explain it all to him.  The Phantom Thieves, the Metaverse, Personas, Maruki and what happened on Christmas.  She wants his advice and to be with him when she has to meet the Phantom Thieves properly.  And yet…

“Hisao,” she says, trying to find the right words.  “Can I listen to your heart?”

She knows it's an odd request, but his raised eyebrow and slow smile give her pause.

“Of course,” he says.  Rin doesn’t know if he’s just humoring her, or if everyone is more agreeable in this ‘perfect world.’

He draws her in, gently wrapping his hands around her head and neck, bringing her in for a hug.  It’s a familiar motion, and his hands and chest are pleasantly warm in the January air.  She puts her ear to his chest, and listens through his shirt.  It’s hard to make out in the noise of the station, but she waits in his arms, for her hearing to adjust, and she smells him.  It’s a clean smell from his deodorant, but there’s a hint of something else, like the shallow, earthy scent of deep woods in winter, like he brought the frost of Hokkaido with him.  It’s a comforting smell, familiar and nostalgic for her.  She closes her eyes, and she can almost imagine that everything that happened: the gallery, Kosei, the Metaverse, Maruki, that it was all a bad dream.  That it was yet another thing that she imagined as she zoned out while painting.

Bum-bum.

But as she closes her eyes, and shifts her focus away from her vision, she can finally hear it.

Bum-bum.

It’s all wrong.  Gone is the flutter, the many small beats that changed every time, the pitter-patter and drunken cadence of his heart thingy.  His arrhythmia.

Bum-bum.

There’s only the steady one-two, one-two of a healthy heart.  He probably doesn’t even have a scar on his chest.

Bum-bum.

This is not her Hisao.

She pulls away, and looks up into his dark umber eyes.  She feels guilty, working towards a world where he will be ill, where he had to suffer the trauma of his hospitalization.  But looking into his gentle eyes, she can finally see that he is not her boyfriend, or her ex-boyfriend.  

He is what her ex-boyfriend wanted to be: friendly.  Patient.  Healthy.  With her.

He’s a dream.  And trying to love a dream can only end badly.

She wants to speak with him.  To ask him why he’s at Yamaku, what happened to him.  She wants to poke holes in the illusion, to try and free him.  But that seems even more cruel.

She stares at him for a long moment.  He says nothing, only a slight smile on his lips.  He’s so damn understanding .  The real Hisao would have made a joke or asked her what was wrong by now.  But not this one.  He just… waits.

Rin hears a warning that the train will be leaving soon over the PA and slowly shakes her head, backing away from him.  There are no more words exchanged, as she walks away and on to the train, she tries not to imagine this as a repeat of when she left Yamaku last time, and left him in the middle of the street, after the rain.

The image rises in her head anyway as the train departs the station.

No, she can’t stay with him.  She can’t pretend that the Hisao in this world is the same boy she fell in love with.

But, maybe, once all this is over, and the world is put right…

Maybe…

After a three hour train trip, Rin arrives in Tokyo, deposited in the center of Shibuya.  The city is comforting in its familiarity to her, after her two weeks in Sendai.

Or at least, it would be if it wasn’t so… uncanny.

The sense of what was wrong about the world was thin in Sendai, like looking at the world through polarized glasses, or maybe some clear plastic cling-wrap.  The insubstantial unreality was easier to ignore.  

Here in Tokyo, it’s like a thick fog.  Colors appear to be artificially brightened, the noise of the city seems to have a faint musicality to it, and there’s nothing but good news on every pedestrian’s lips.  It’s like walking through a TV advertisement, nothing is out of place and everything is perfect.

She stops by Kosei, wondering what has happened to her paintings, but she doesn’t have a student ID to be let in.  Technically, she’s still a student of Yamaku; a stranger in Tokyo.  So instead, she makes her way to Yongen-Jaya, with directions from eager and happy pedestrians.  She can’t consult her phone constantly, like other wanderers in the city, so it’s a little after noon when she finally makes her way to the correct neighborhood.  Looking around the unfamiliar back alleys, she wonders how anyone would find a café in a maze like this.  Perhaps the policeman on the corner knows.

“Um…” Rin says, walking up to him and realizing that she has forgotten the name of the café.  Margeret mentioned it… and now she can’t seem to recall it.  Was it something French?

“Hrm?” the policeman grunts, adjusting his cap. “Can I help you?” He looks Rin up and down, his eyebrow arching in what she hopes is curiosity and not suspicion.  If the police are here to enforce the status quo, are they now instruments of this perfect world as well?

“I’m looking for a café around here.” Rin manages to spit out under his skeptical gaze.  His expression brightens in comprehension.

“Ah, you mean Leblanc?” he asks, and Rin nods, recognizing the name now that it was repeated. “Then it’s right around that corner, on the left.  Red and white awning over the door, can’t miss it.” Rin is sure the man is vastly underestimating her ability to miss things, but she gives a nod all the same and heads down the alleyway he indicated.  It’s narrow, but she shortly arrives at a small building, with many potted plants out front, and a sign that reads “Coffee & Curry / Leblanc.” It’s quite small, but looks very cozy.  She nudges the front door open, glad that it opens inward, and walks inside.

Distantly, she hears the bell ring over the door, announcing her entry as she takes in the café.  Several booths on the left, a counter with high chairs on the right.  The whole place feels… retro.  The pendulum clock on the wall, the soft, rich beiges and browns used for the decor, with the exception of the multi-colored lamps hanging over each of the booths.  The shelves full of coffee and other ingredients behind the counter, with coffee pots and assorted antique devices, like the old-fashioned cash register near the door, and… is that an actual payphone next to it?  In the back, between a set of stairs upwards and the kitchen, Rin can see a small television, with the news playing on it, set to minimal volume.  All in all, it gives Rin a warm, fuzzy feeling to look around this café.

And the occupants also seem to be enjoying the atmosphere.  Behind the counter is a thin, middle-aged man who is compensating for his receding hairline with an impressively groomed beard.  He has a pink blouse on, and is drying his hands on a towel hanging from his black apron.  In the most distant booth is a hunched elderly couple, each in a comfortable sweater, chatting quietly.  In the middle booth, is a woman with her black hair in a bob, dressed in a sleeveless black shirt, her glasses thin and sleek.  She looks up from her cup of coffee and plate of curry, along with the man behind the counter, who peers over his own spectacles at Rin as she takes in the interior.

“Welcome to Leblanc,” he says with a casual, disaffected air that Rin would probably find comforting if she was a regular. “First time?” he asks, probably reading her look around the café. Rin nods as she slowly wanders in.  The woman smiles and gives a little wave, and Rin returns a nod.  She rolls her neck and lets her duffle bag slip to the floor as she climbs up on one of the tall chairs at the bar.  The whole place smells of coffee, but it’s to be expected of a café.  Rin closes her eyes, and breathes deeply.  She’s no great connoisseur of coffee, but the rich, earthy smell is soothing.

She opens her eyes to find the man behind the counter looking at her, arms folded, hand resting on his chin.  It’s close to the normal judgemental stare she gets for daring to be disabled in a public place, but not quite.  More like he’s sizing her up, wondering what she might want.  Shortly, he proves her hypothesis.

“What’ll it be, miss?” the man in pink asks.

“Um… iced coffee,” she says, gazing up at the chalkboard menu and hardly recognizing any of the terms used.  “With… milk please.”  She needs a straw, and trying to drink hot coffee through a straw is a lesson she only needed to learn once; so iced coffee it is.

He gives her a nod, and begins to work.  “One iced latte, coming right up,” he says, as he gathers the ingredients.  “I haven’t seen you before, new around here?” he asks.

“Something like that,” Rin says, watching him work.  His silhouette doesn’t resemble any of the thieves she saw when they made their big broadcast against Shido, so he’s probably not the person she’s supposed to meet.  “I was told to meet someone at this place.”

“Oh?” the man says, slightly distracted as he gathers the ice for her drink.  “Are they a regular?”

Remembering hard, Rin tried to phrase her next sentence to not reveal how little she knows.  “I think so.  I was told… he was staying here.”

“Oh, the kid!” he says, gesturing upwards, before resuming the assembly of her drink.

Rin is confused, but the woman with glasses in the booth behind her speaks up.  “Kurusu-kun is out on an errand today, but he should be back soon,” she explains and Rin nods.

“Thank you,” she says, a little nervous.  She doesn’t really know anyone here.  The person she’s meeting is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, so he should know Yusuke, so that’s nice…  and Rin realizes she doesn’t know where Yusuke is, if he was able to break the illusion or not.  She would have checked Kosei, except she can’t get in.

The man behind the counter slides the iced coffee over to her in a tall glass and with a straw ready.  She smiles at him, and takes a sip.  It’s amazing, better than any other coffee she’s had (which, admittedly, is not much.)

“It’s very good.  Thank you, sir,” she says, and he chuckles.

“I’m Sojiro Sakura, but you can call me boss, if you like,” he says, moving to refill the coffee cups of the elderly couple in the back, before returning. “Most folks around here do.”

“Most folks,” the woman behind Rin says, a mischievous smile in her voice.

“Okay, boss,” Rin says, seeing no reason not to use his nickname. “My name is Rin.”

“Nice to meet you, Rin.  Are you a friend of Akira?” he asks.  Rin vaguely recognizes the name from a few times when Yusuke mentioned him.  Good to have his whole name.  Akira Kurusu, if she put it together right.

“No,” she answers plainly. “But someone very powerful told me he was here, and I need to help him.”

Sojiro gives her an odd look, but Rin’s too busy taking another sip of her latte.  She zones out, the smooth taste conjuring up texturous images in her mind.

The bell over the door rings, and Rin turns to see if it’s Akira.  The girl strolling in through the front door is short, probably shorter than Rin.  She has extremely long, very straight orange hair, and large brown eyes that seem half-lidded from exhaustion, or maybe just a late start on the day.  She’s dressed in a large, baggy green hoodie with a strange video game image that is both wiggly and blocky on it, with a black skirt, leggings and boots, as she hangs a black knit-cap on a peg by the door without looking.  She also has glasses: rounded, oversized glasses that seem to hang on the very tip of her nose, and Rin also notices large, red headphones hanging around her neck.  She doesn’t take much notice of Rin, as she steers herself toward the booth with the black-haired woman.  There is a certain family resemblance, and Rin feels good in saying the girl and woman are related, probably mother and daughter.

“Well, look who finally rolled out of bed,” Sojiro remarks.

The girl slips into the booth opposite the woman, and flops her head down on the table, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine.  “So-ji-ro…” she says, emphasizing each syllable equally, face still pointed at the table. “Curry, please…”

The woman and Sojiro each give a small chuckle.  “Coming right up, Futaba,” he says, before turning to Rin.  “Would you like some curry?”

It is getting near lunchtime, but Rin doesn’t see any way to eat here that doesn’t involve her feet on the counter, so she just shakes her head at Sojiro.  It’s too early for that.  He gives her a brief odd look, like he’s just now actually inspecting her.  Rin sees the telltale dart of his eyes to where her arm should be, then back up.  His eyes soften, ever so slightly, and he gives a nod before moving to prepare the girl’s curry.

The girl he called Futaba is chatting with the woman about all sorts of things now, babbling a mile a minute about manga, a sentai show, computer games and perhaps programming?  Rin isn’t terribly sure what half of what she says means, but the way they chat, the affection present in the woman’s voice seems to prove Rin’s hypothesis, they are almost certainly mother and daughter.

She tunes them out, and turns back to her iced latte, savoring the flavor as she waits for the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Akira Kurusu could not get used to how light his bag was without a cat in it.

Logically, he knew he had larger, more important things to worry about, but as he wandered through the streets of Tokyo, he pulled his collar up against a cold breeze and reflected that his unease with his bag was a reflection of his entire situation.

He ‘should’ have been happy with Maruki’s world.  Somehow, something about him let him remember the real world, and not the simulacrum that the doctor had constructed.  His entire team had fallen prey to it, and after investigating the strangely visible Palace with Akechi and ‘Kasumi,’ and Maruki’s subsequent revelation of her real identity as Sumire Yoshizawa, followed by her kidnapping at Maruki’s hands… he needed a break.  He needed someone to confide in.

But that was not an easy thing.  The gates to the Velvet Room had all disappeared, and turning to Akechi for emotional support was like asking a cat if it would enjoy a nice bath: pointless and likely to result in minor wounds.  In times like these, he would have loved Haru’s gentle reassurance, or Ryuji’s passion, Makoto’s simple analytical approach, Ann’s air of ease, Yusuke’s flights of fancy, Futaba’s silly video game metaphors or even Morgana’s rare patience, but it was all lost. 

The Phantom Thieves as an organization were of tenuous reality in this world.  He had spent the past week meeting with them, as Maruki has suggested, and each of them were… different.  Each of them living their ideal life: Ann with an uninjured Shiho, Ryuji with his leg unbroken, Morgana as a human, Yusuke with a Madarame who treated him right, and Futaba and Haru with living parents.  He’d tried to prod them, jog their memory of how unnatural their circumstances were, but he had no idea if his words had taken hold.  With all their reasons for joining the Phantom Thieves erased in this world, Akira wasn’t even sure if they were Phantom Thieves.  The facts of the world seemed to shift under him on occasion, like an odd form of self-defense of Maruki’s reality.

He boarded the train back to Yongen-Jaya from Kichijoji.  He’d met up with Haru today, and the sight of her happily discussing plans for Okumura Foods with her father made him faintly ill.  He had watched the man die, helped Haru mourn him and come to terms with her memory of the man he was before she decided to change his heart, and yet he had stood alongside Haru, like all their previous time together meant nothing, like the events that had shaped and defined her in the last few months were only a dream…

Some part of Akira wanted to believe it was a dream.  After all, what was more likely: that he had been a thief who infiltrated a dimension shaped by dreams and ideas, and had banded together with his true friends to strike down a god, or that he had simply been living an exciting and gritty fantasy, and his mind was slow to accept his real life after so fantastic a dream?  He held fast to the visceral memories that he had of the past year: the rush of wind in his face as Morgana first summoned Zorro, clenching his fist as Ann explained her situation at the restaurant, grabbing Ryuji’s arm when he wanted to punch Kamoshida while barely restraining himself, Yusuke’s gratitude for the Phantom Thieves’ aid, the sense of awe from seeing Makoto shatter tile with a stomp, the sweltering heat of the desert in Futaba’s heart, the heartache as Haru broke down in his arms, privately grieving her father, the hazy sensations of pain that were all that remained of his memories of the interrogation…

The awful silence after the sound of gunshots in the depths of Shido’s cruise ship, Akechi’s voice weakly pleading on the other side of the bulkhead…

These things, they could not be mere dreams.  No dream could still feel so real, even after waking.  It was a mantra Akira repeated to himself, though with each repetition, he could feel himself somehow grow less sure.

As the train arrived in Yongen-Jaya, Akira assured himself that at least he was done for the day.  It was barely past noon, but confronting each of his teammates, lost in their deepest fantasies, was emotionally draining in a way he couldn’t fully describe but made him want to lay down and stare at the ceiling of Leblanc’s attic.  This was the last day that Maruki had set for them to explore ‘his’ reality, and Akechi would be by at some point to discuss what their next step was.  Akira only wished he knew what that step was.  

He arrived back at Leblanc, and stopped for a second outside.  Still no sign of human Morgana, but he could hear Futaba’s voice from inside, faint and indistinct, along with another female voice, one he had learned to dread in the last week: Wakaba Isshiki.  Futaba’s mother, returned from the other side of the Sanzu.  Looking at her and hearing her talk filled Akira with an emotion he struggled to describe.  Memories of Futaba’s pyramid Palace filled his mind when he saw her, the shrill screams of the awful, shrieking sphinx-monster her guilt had conjured echoed in his ears when she spoke.  Memories of Futaba, painfully confessing her loneliness and self-loathing drifted to the surface of his mind when Futaba clung to Wakaba and smiled up at her dead mother.

When Akira looked at Wakaba Isshiki, it felt like his heart was filling with black oil.  Like he might choke on it.

He sat down for a moment on the brick steps next to the door, where the potted plants were, to gather himself.  He just needed to smile and brush past them.  Brush past his guardian, and the closest thing he had to a sister, as they pantomimed a happy life like marionettes.  No problem.  His “everything is okay” mask was well-practiced from the beginning of his probation, even if he had seldom used it as of late.

He adjusted his glasses, and stood up.  The bell over the door announced his entrance, and he glanced around, noting a newcomer at the counter, and saying some perfunctory greetings to Sojiro and Futaba, before attempting to brush past them, all but making a break for the stairs at the back of the café.

“Hey, kid, hold on a second,” Sojiro said, as Akira placed his foot on the first step.  So much for brushing past.

He turned, and looked at his guardian.  “What’s up, boss?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Sojiro said, gesturing to the person at the counter.  

Instantly, Akira was struck by apprehension.  Who could possibly want to speak with him that didn’t have his number?  He followed Sojiro’s arm, and took in the person.

She was short, though not as short as Futaba, probably a good ten centimeters or so taller than the girl on her phone in the booth next to her seat.  She had rusty-red hair, cut short and unevenly styled, framing large, pale green eyes that seemed to look past him, straight through him.  Her heart-shaped face and high eyebrows further exaggerated the size of her eyes and her small, thin mouth, giving her a quiet, observant look.  She was dressed in a gray and aqua shawl, with baggy khaki cargo pants, the inside and outside of each leg lined with pockets.  And… single-strap slide-in sandals, with no socks in January?

Akira could not help but raise an eyebrow at the girl.  Something about her twigged a distant memory in his head, but his mind had been such a maelstrom lately, he couldn’t quite recall what that memory was.  “Hello?” Akira said, unable to keep it from sounding like a question.  He was at a loss for who this was.

“Hello,” she said, her affect flat.  There was half an awkward moment while she seemed to contemplate what to say, before adding. “My name is Rin Tezuka.”

Wait… wasn’t that… Akira noticed the two sleeves hanging off either side of her torso, below the edge of the shawl.  They were tied in knots, with no arms in either of them.

“I was sent here to meet you.”

Akira had only just begun to realize this was Yusuke’s art friend when what she said next shattered his train of thought.

“By a friend in the Velvet Room.”

Chapter Text

Akira was rooted to the spot.

“The Velvet Room?” he repeated, dumbly.  The girl at the counter nodded back.

It seemed impossible.  The realm he visited in his dreams and in dark alleys, intruding on his daily life.  It already had, with his team being saved and wandering inside, but Akira had noticed how none of them had brought it up in the week after Christmas, almost like none of them actually remembered…

His mind was wandering.  Armless girl; Yusuke’s friend.  Right.

“We should… uh… talk upstairs,” he said, glancing towards Futaba, who was working hard to look like she was absorbed in her phone. It was almost like she had been avoiding him since they had spoken in Akihabara a few days ago.  Rin nodded and then looked back at Sojiro.

“Can I pay you later, Boss?” she asked.  Oh good, Sojiro already had his hooks in her.

Sojiro smiled and shook his head.  “It’s on the house,” he said.

Rin looked briefly puzzled, then glanced down at her bag in the seat next to her.  Akira was about to ask if she needed help when she leaned over, grabbed the strap with her teeth and twisted her head around to loop the bag around her neck.

Alright then.

As she walked past Akira and up the stairs, Sojiro beckoned him over with a finger.  Akira  approached and leaned over to talk with his guardian.

“Friend of yours?” he asked, slightly suspicious.

“More like…a friend of a friend,” Akira said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sojiro let out noise somewhere between a sigh and a hum.  “I heard her stomach growl, but she didn’t want any curry.  I’m thinking…” he paused.  “Maybe she didn’t want to ask for help eating.  If I make you and her a plate, will you take it up for her?”

Akira considered for a moment.  He had skipped breakfast on his way out. “Sure thing.  I’m pretty hungry too.”

Sojiro returned with his trademark smirk. “I know you are, kid.”  Sojiro served up two plates of curry and rice, added plastic spoons for each plate, and passed Akira two bottled waters from the refrigerator.  Akira stuffed the bottles in his coat pockets and took the two plates upstairs.  There he found Rin standing in the middle of the attic, his room.  She was glancing around at the various decorations he’d collected over the nine months he’d spent in Tokyo: various books and magazines, the antique CRT television and retro game console, and of course, the many gifts he’d been given.  The ramen bowl from the shop in Ogikubo he’d visited with Ryuji, the poster of the idol Rise Kujikawa that Ann had bought two of, the oversized shogi piece bookend, the replica of Venus de Milo, the Featherman figure, the ‘Mocking Snowman’ doll on his desk, and his plant that he’d kept quite well-fed over the past few months.

“Your room is big,” Rin said, with an intense casualness.

“Most of it was storage space before I moved in,” he said, then stole a glance at the burlap sack of coffee beans that was still on a bottom shelf.  “Some of it still is.”  She made a noise of acknowledgement, and he gestured with the two plates he was carrying as he moved to the table.  “Sojiro thought you might need some help eating, so he got some curry for you.” Akira set the plates on the table by the couch, then shedding his coat and bag. 

“I don’t need help,” she responded, moving towards the couch, then leaning over and rolling her head to shrug her bag back off, and sitting down before pausing.  “But thank you.  I am hungry.”  She tucked her chin and undid the clasp on her capelet with her mouth, letting it fall behind her on the couch with a shrug.  

Akira smiled and set up the bottled water with a straw next to the curry, threw his winter coat onto his futon, and they ate their curry together in silence.  He was impressed with the way she wielded the spoon with her toes, scooping the curry up to her mouth.  He remembered Yusuke saying that she could feed herself and use her feet for most tasks, but seeing was absolutely believing in this case.

All the while, Akira watched her and reflected.  He’d never actually met Rin, he’d had only a brief encounter with her Shadow in Mementos.  Her current demeanor seemed to suggest that she had improved since then, and she had apparently been sent by the Velvet Room?  Could Igor and Lavenza not contact him?  Why her?  Thinking back on it, Yusuke had been concerned for her before Christmas, but not mentioned her at all since then… What had happened to her?  Before Christmas, the Thieves had explored her Palace, and if he understood correctly, been instructed by her Shadow to get the real Rin help… and then he’d…

Shit.

After the Thieves’ Palace exploration without him, he’d reached out to Maruki on Yusuke’s behalf and set up a counseling session with Rin.  Something in Akira’s gut told him that he had somehow roped her into this mess, though he didn’t know how.  Had Maruki done what he had done to Kasu… Sumire?  Brainwashed her?  Was this a ploy?

Akira stopped himself from going any further. He was spiraling.  

He’d never realized how much he relied on Morgana to guide his musings until he was gone.  The former cat was presumably wandering somewhere, still mulling over his apparent conflict in memories.  Akira could only hope that he’d come back around to reality.  Or rather, the former reality; the reality that Maruki was suppressing.

Rin finished her curry, and closed her eyes, seeming to contemplate the flavor, swaying back and for a bit.  Akira finished his own plate, and stacked the two dishes and moved them to the side of the table.  Rin opened her eyes at the noise and watched him.  Afterwards he returned to his seat borrowed from his work bench, and they sat for a moment. Rin seemed to watch him, looking him up and down with a gaze that reminded him partly of Futaba trying to navigate a social interaction, and partly of Yusuke taking in a new subject for an art piece.

An awkward silence settled in.

Akira didn’t seem to know where to start.  Everything about this was bizarre, even by the standards he’d developed as a Phantom Thief.  Did she know about that too?

He sighed.  His questions weren’t going to answer themselves.

“So,” Akira said. “The Velvet Room?”

Rin nodded. “It sounds very nice there,” and she hummed a brief bit of music.  A rising and falling tone, reminiscent of an opera.

Akira hadn’t harbored any real doubts about the veracity of her claim, but that comment and tune chased away the few stray thoughts that the two of them might not be discussing the same place.  The piano, violin and phantom singer that seemed to pervade the place were hard to forget.

He smiled and nodded.  “Yeah, it’s a nice melody,” Akira said. “So, did you speak to Igor and Lavenza?”

Rin tilted her head in confusion.  “I didn’t meet anyone with those names.”

“Who did you speak with, then?” Akira asked.

“There was a man in all black with dark sunglasses who said he was the Demon Painter, and a tall woman in blue with really pale hair named Margaret,” she explained. Akira was at a loss at this ‘Demon Painter,’ but Margaret sounded like she resembled Lavenza.

“What was it like?” Akira asked, still confused.

“Like… an art gallery,” Rin said, looking away and contemplating. “It was a big art gallery with paintings of a bunch of people.  There was blue fabric hanging on all the walls.”

Something Yaldabaoth had said while posing as Igor came to mind for Akira: The state of this room reflects the state of your own heart.   It seemed likely that he had not been misled on that particular point: the Velvet Room was probably different for each ‘guest,’ with different attendants to match.  He’d have to ask Lavenza if he ever got the chance.  He had yet to consult with them, as the glowing doors to the Room remained absent in Maruki’s world.

“I see,” Akira said, to try and fill the air.

“So, how did you arrive there?” Rin asked, then added, “Does it have to do with the Phantom Thieves?”  Akira grinned despite himself and looked away.  It wasn’t like it was groundbreaking that she knew about him and the Phantom Thieves, but it was still amusing.

“How’d you find out about that?” he asked.

“Your big video against the bald government man,” she said plainly. “I recognized Yusuke’s body shape, and then a few others in your lineup.” She looked him up and down again, focusing on his gray eyes and black hair. “You are the leader, right?”

“Yes,” Akira said. “You’ve got a keen eye.”

“That’s what some people say,” Rin said. “I think they’re pretty round.”

“Well…” Akira began, then paused as he heard noise from the cafe.  It sounded like Wakaba heading off.  Her voice, then the front door’s bell jingled, but then there were footsteps closer, and then the bathroom door opened and he heard the fan activate.  Futaba must have been using it.

Akira sighed.  “I suppose you’ll want to know how we got here.”

Rin nodded a single time. “I’ve been lost for a very long time,” she said.  “I know some things, but I’d like to know more.  Yusuke said he would explain it all to me, but then… this dreamworld happened to us.”

Akira leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  Yusuke… The memory of him laughing and smiling with the man who abused and exploited him resurfaced, and Akira couldn’t keep the dark expression off his face.  Rin was still watching him, but seemed to not react to the change in him.

“I suppose I ought to start from the beginning then…” he said, then began his recollection for her, feeling not unlike he did when he recounted his journey for Sae in the interrogation room.  His phone made a short buzz, then stopped.  Akira ignored it and forged ahead with his story.

He spent the next half hour or so laying out his tale for her.  His encounter with Shido that left him with an assault on his record, his transfer, dreaming of the Velvet Room, and the accidental discovery of the Metaverse at Shujin.  She seemed to understand the basics of Personas, Shadows and a “mental realm,” but was hazy on the finer details, so Akira filled her in on Palaces, Treasures, Mementos, and how they all fit together.  From there, he recounted the mounting circumstances that led to their theft of Kamoshida’s heart, and how it benefited all of them.  

Next was the creation of the Phansite, meeting Yusuke and helping him break free of Madarame, which Rin followed with intent.  She interjected that she had been something like friends with Yusuke at the time, and had noticed how he had changed in demeanor, but had not put it all together until Akira’s explanation.  Akira then moved on, to Makoto and Kanashiro, Futaba and Medjed, and then Haru and her father.  

He paused, and then decided that if he was going to tell her this, she might as well hear all of it, and he explained the manipulation of Haru’s father’s death to look like their work, the culprit being Goro Akechi, and his attempted trap with Sae Niijima’s palace.  Their plan around it, the faking of Akira’s death, and subsequent assault on Shido’s Palace.  Rin seemed to be following more closely, occasionally offering events she knew about like the news reports of Akira’s capture and the broadcast calling card to keep track of the story.

From there, he described the growing public apathy, which Rin also remembered.  Akira laid out their plan to deal with it, and how they had encountered the Holy Grail at the bottom of Mementos, and the fusion and subsequent battle to defeat the God of Control.  Curiously, Rin seemed to have the least questions for this particularly outlandish part of the tale.  He finished that part, and described the separation of the two dimensions.

“And, well, it all looked to be alright… until….” he trailed off, not quite knowing how to explain what happened.

“Until Dr. Maruki happened,” Rin said.

Akira was slightly stunned.  She knew Maruki was responsible?  How?  He settled himself, and decided it was time to flip this around.

“It seems you’ve learned quite a bit about what’s going on here,” Akira said, folding his arms. “How’d you get pulled into all this?”

Rin looked away, staring at the closed window.  Her attention seemed to wander, and Akira was just about to repeat his questions when she spoke.  “I’m not… not great at talking, but I will try.”  She shifted in her seat, then began.

“I was lost and didn’t know what to do, before Christmas.  There was only the show, the gallery that my sensei wanted to put on.   Nothing else mattered, because I couldn’t see anything else, like my head was dipped in motor oil, and I had stopped feeling anything but bad, that I was wrong and needed to be better.  But then I spoke with Dr. Maruki, and he tried to help me.”

Her words came fast and mumbled, but Akira was able to follow.

“He was nice, but when I was still sad after we talked, he tried to do something to me, to make me forget and become happy.  But something happened, and it didn’t work, and he left.  And then, on Christmas, the world became red.”

“You saw the fusion?” Akira asked.  He should have expected it from her lack of reaction, but he wanted to be sure.  He was thirsty from his own talking, so he reached down to get his own water bottle.

Rin nodded and continued. “It was while that was happening that I saw my Shadow.  She was mean and scary, but also like a blanket just out of the dryer.”  Akira tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.  “She was also warm and nice.  And when she hugged me, and told me about how the Phantom Thieves spoke to her, then she became my Persona.”

Akira choked on his mouthful of water, almost spitting it out.  He looked back at Rin once he had control over himself, and did what he should have done when they first met: he focused inward, and looked at her with the ability Yaldabaoth had granted him, the so-called ‘third eye.’  The world darkened around him, but Rin appeared with a faint blue glow.  It was a sign, but of what Akira was never sure.  The blue glow seemed to surround those with Personas, or those with whom he had made a contract, it was impossible to tell which it meant.  But it did confirm that she was telling the truth: the girl had awakened her Persona, on Christmas Eve while the rest of them were vanishing from reality, if he understood the timeline correctly.

Rin had paused while Akira thumped his chest after coughing, but didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” he choked out. “Please continue.”

“My Persona explained what was happening to the world, and tried to find you to help, but ran into some really powerful evil angels, and they almost killed me.  I was rescued by Dr. Maruki.”

“Hold on,” Akira said, still recovering from the last revelation. He should just put the emotion of ‘being surprised’ on a shelf, it was getting old. “Maruki saved you?  Did he have a Persona?”

Rin nodded. “Mm-hm.  A golden four-bladed knife with clawed neon guts hanging out.”

That certainly sounded outlandish, but not unlike Futaba’s Necronomicon and Prometheus UFO Personae.  Akira pondered for a second; it wasn’t too shocking that Maruki would have a Persona, considering he had somehow taken up residence in his own Palace.  Once again, he missed Morgana, their Metaverse expert.

“We talked, and he explained some things about the world and his Persona.” Rin continued. “He said he had gotten his Persona a long time ago, but didn’t know what it was until the worlds merged, when his Persona explained it to him, like Artemisia did for me.”

Akira noted the name of her Persona for later, but continued to listen.

“He said he was sorry for trying to change my mind, and he wanted to help save the world, and he needed to help get to ‘the bottom’ and to fix the world.  So he went down into the subways.  I was going to follow him, but a bunch of the Shadows appeared, and I told him I would handle them.  I did, but only barely.”

“And then you defeated the big metal god, and the world fixed itself.  I thought… I thought that meant Dr. Maruki had done his thing, but then the next day I woke up in Sendai, back at my old school.”  She paused, then continued.  “I couldn’t remember ever going to Tokyo.  I had left someone there, someone I regretted leaving, and I was suddenly there… like leaving had been a bad dream.”  She paused.  “He lied to me.”

“I see,” Akira said, considering.  So Maruki’s reality shift had started early for her.

“It hurt to try and think in ways that I shouldn’t have,” Rin said. “And everyone there was… wrong.”

“How so?” Akira asked.

“My best friend wasn’t my best friend anymore,” Rin said, her green eyes darkening. “Her name is Emi, and she lost her legs in a car accident.”  Akira remembered Yusuke mentioning this girl back over the summer break; she was a runner.  He also remembered what Yusuke had mentioned about Rin: she had attended a school for those with physical disabilities before she transferred to Kosei.  But then… in Maruki’s ‘ideal’ world…

“Now she never lost her legs or her dad,” Rin continued, and Akira felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, a reflected pang of what he felt while looking at Ryuji with his uninjured leg, or Futaba and Haru with their living family.  “She's not the same.  She ran and ran and ran, because she never wanted her legs to stop her from doing what she always wanted.  Now we aren’t even really friends.  Things are different for everyone; Hanako isn’t burned, Lily’s returned somehow, and…” she trailed off.  

“I understand how you feel,” Akira said, hunching over in his chair, taking his glasses off and letting them limply hang from his hand.  “I’ve spent the last week talking to my team, to the Phantom Thieves.  But they’re not… I don’t think they are the Phantom Thieves anymore.  All of us lost things, had things go wrong for us… and those things made us stand up, made us say ‘no more’ and decide to steal hearts… but now all that’s gone.”

“They’re happy now,” Rin said, and Akira nodded. “Any reason for them to stand up and fight back has been taken away.”

“Yes,” Akira said. “And I can’t even really blame them…”

“The boy I like…” Rin began, then looked away.  “We… I had to leave, because I thought I had to become someone else.  Someone who couldn’t be with him.  But when I realized what I had to do… what I really had to do, I thought that maybe we could…” She trailed off, then looked right into Akira's eyes. “I want to see him again.  The real him, not the fake version that only says what I want.”

“But… even knowing that, you couldn’t tell him the truth, could you?” Akira asked as he replaced his glasses on his nose, and he saw her deflate slightly.  “It’s been the same with me.  I spoke with Yusuke, and he’s… he’s happy now.”

“What changed for him?” Rin asked.

“His mentor is…” Akira paused. “Is the person he thought he was.  Kind, supportive, honest.  His mother’s work is in a museum.  All his heartache is gone.” Rin looked away, her brow furrowed. “He… he deserves a life like that.  One where things go is way for once.”

“Didn’t he already have that?” Rin asked, a slight edge to her voice.  Akira looked up from staring at the floorboards.  “He deserves a great life, so why does he have to be put in a dream?  Who says his existing friends couldn’t give him a great life?”

Her words were like a smack in the face to Akira.

“He loved being a Phantom Thief,” Rin continued, standing up from the couch. “He never said it, but I saw it!  It was good for him, I saw him be better, and become a good person, the kind of person who looked out for others… for me!  What lets Maruki decide that our Yusuke wasn’t good enough?”

Distantly, Akira felt a little guilty for believing that this new reality might have been a better path for them.  He had not seriously entertained the thought, but it had floated at the edge of his mind, tempting him every time he saw his teammates smile.  But now, thrown back in his face, his emotions were refocused.

And yet…

“I agree, but I can’t honestly try and break their conception of this world,” Akira said.

Rin’s fervor subsided as she sank back into the seat. “Yes… I also couldn’t tell the people I knew what happened.”

“It has to be their decision,” Akira said. “No matter what.  Screaming at them that the world is wrong and they need to wake up doesn’t help anything.  I spoke with all of them, and they seemed to almost grasp what happened, and left to think.  I just hope they can face it.”

“I hope so too,” Rin replied.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.  Akira wasn’t sure what they had agreed to, but it felt like they had agreed to something.  He was about to speak up and ask her more questions, when he felt… an odd sensation.  There was a pull at his soul, a strange distortion in the air, and then it was gone, and he faintly heard the sound of glass shattering… or maybe he imagined it.  Rin was looking around as well, like she heard it too, when Akira heard the bathroom light and fan turn off, the door open and close, the small sound of sniffling, then rapid steps up the stairs, until suddenly Futaba appeared, throwing herself at Akira.

Akira was completely unprepared for this situation, and thus he could make no move to try and dodge the crying girl flying at him through the air.

“I’m so sorry, Akira!” Futaba sobbed, as she hugged him tightly around the neck.  For his part, Akira was mostly just confused.  He made eye contact with Rin, who had not moved at all, and watched the entire affair impassively, like it was no more interesting than Akira receiving a phone call.

Wait… his phone…

“Futaba, were you eavesdropping on us?” Akira asked the girl still hanging off of him, as he righted himself and tried to get back on the chair with Futaba still sobbing into his chest.  In reply, she nodded into his chest.

He looked up at Rin, who was smiling at the scene before her.

“Well, it looks like at least one of your teammates chose to remember.”

Eventually, after a not-insignificant amount of reassuring Sojiro that everything was fine, and getting more water for Futaba, she was able to explain herself.  Rin had slid over on the couch to allow her room, and they now sat on opposite ends.

“I’d been thinking about everything going on, about mom and how I knew you, but every time I did, I felt scared, and my head began to hurt,” Futaba explained to Rin and Akira, as she still sniffled a bit.  “But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, when we ran into each other in Akihabara… And when I saw you headed up here to talk to someone I thought I might have recognized… Then I got curious… and I remembered the bug I put on your phone.” 

Futaba pulled her feet up under herself, crouched on the seat, her hands wrapped around her legs. “But I couldn’t remember why I had done that… So when Mom had to leave… I decided to stay behind and listen to your conversation… and as I listened, I just became more confused… because I could remember all of it, but also none of it.  It was like… like…”

“Like there were two sets of memories in your head, and they were fighting,” Rin offered, and Futaba nodded vigorously.

“Just like that… uh…” Futaba stumbled, finally seeming to recognize that the third person in the room beside her and Akira was someone new.  “You’re… Tezuka-san, right?  Yusuke’s friend?”

“At this moment, yes,” Rin said.

“Um… hi,” Futaba said, her face red with embarrassment. “I’m Futaba Sakura.  We never really met, but I talked with your Shadow once.”

“She told me,” Rin replied.

“Oh,” Futaba said, surprised. “She said… that she hoped we could be friends.”

Rin smiled, a tiny smile that seemed to make her entire face glow.  “I’d like that.”  

Futaba nodded, the same small smile on her face.

“Anyway,” Futaba continued. “After hearing both your stories, I felt like my head was going to burst trying to process a bunch of stuff, but eventually I decided that I wanted to move on, even if it was scary and hurt me, and that’s when everything changed, and I could clearly remember my time as a Phantom Thief… Even though that probably means that… that Mom is…” She didn’t cry again, just looked away from Rin and Akira and heaved a great, shuddering sigh.

“You were right,” Rin said to Akira, as Futaba composed herself. “They have to choose to remember.  We can’t just yell at them.”

“It would seem so…” Akira leaned back in his chair.  He leaned over next to Futaba, to put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him with an expression of thanks. “We just have to hope that it’s enough.”

“You do seem to operate almost exclusively on hope,” said a sharp voice from the stairs.  All present turned to see Goro Akechi climbing the last stairs, still dressed in his brown winter coat.  He paused at the top, looking around and taking in the three people in the room.  “At least you were able to recruit your navigator… and a new redhead, delightful.  We certainly needed a replacement after we lost Yoshizawa-san.  I must confess, when you said you wanted to get more help, I wasn’t expecting a totally new recruit.”

Akira saw Futaba tense up at Akechi’s appearance, whereas Rin seemed to tilt her head curiously.

“I’ve met you before,” Rin said.

Akechi looked her up and down, inspecting the girl for anything he could recognize.  “Not that I can recall,” he replied.

“You gave me a jacket on Christmas Eve,” Rin supplied, and she rose from her spot on the couch, and walked around to her bag, unzipping it and sliding the bag over to Akechi.  Sure enough, the tan jacket of his school uniform was on top of the folded clothes inside.

“Oh, yes,” Akechi said, his voice once again full of confidence now that he was back on familiar ground. “I was quite sure I wouldn’t need it anymore, but my circumstances have changed.  I’ll take this back, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Rin said with a shrug, and Akechi reached down into the bag and withdrew the jacket, looping it under his arm.

While that exchange was happening, Futaba leaned over to Akira.  “What’s he doing here?” she hissed.

“He was helping me investigate while you all were… indisposed,” Akira answered.

“No, I mean, what’s he doing out of jail?” Futaba clarified. “Didn’t he turn himself in for…” She gestured vaguely, with a hand shaped like a pistol.

“I did turn myself in for…” Akechi answered, then mimicked her gestures in an exaggerated, mocking manner.

Futaba scowled. “I see jail didn’t improve your attitude, Akechi,” Futaba said.  “So, how are you here?”

“In this perfect world, there was never even a crime for me to commit,” Akechi answered, his face returning to a neutral mask. “I was released for lack of evidence and cleared of any charges, which just goes to show how ridiculous this world is.”  He folded his arms.  “The only way I’ll see any justice is to bring down Maruki.”

“Then you’re an ally?” Rin asked.

“For now,” Akechi said.  He considered her for a moment, then added, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Akira leapt into the conversation. “Rin Tezuka, please meet Goro Akechi.  He’s the Persona-user I mentioned earlier.  Akechi, Rin’s also a Persona-user who wants to restore the world to its former state.”

Rin showed no reaction when Akira intimated that Akechi was the person who had tried to frame and kill them, but he also got the distinct impression that she understood that regardless.  Akechi was equally opaque in his reaction.

“Well,” Akechi said, moving on. “You managed to recruit a new member, and get your navigator back on your side.  It’s better than I expected, to be frank.” Akechi turned to descend back down the stairs. “Just wanted to check in.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning in Odaiba, correct?”  Akira nodded, and Akechi descended back down the stairs and left Leblanc without another word.

The silence was heavy after he left.  Futaba was still understandable on edge, and Rin seemed to have nothing to say about the encounter as she zipped her bag close with her foot and slid it away.

“I wonder where I’ll be sleeping tonight,” Rin asked aloud, and Akira was jolted back to awareness.

“Where were you before?” he asked.

“Last night I was in Sendai,” she said. “But before Christmas I was staying in the Kosei dorms.  But I’m not a student right now, so I can’t get in.”

Futaba seemed to collect herself.  “Oh!  That makes sense.  Let me… lemme go ask Sojiro if you can stay here for a night.”  She stood from her spot on the couch, and paused at the top of the stair.  “I’ll… get back to you tonight, Rin-san.”  She slowly walked downstairs, none of her usual energy to her step.

“She’ll probably be a while,” Akira said, after he heard her reach the bottom of the stairs.

“But I can hear her asking,” Rin said.  Indeed, her conversation with Sojiro was audible, if unintelligible.

“She needs some time to herself,” Akira clarified, then added, “For a very long time, she blamed herself for her mother’s death.  It wasn’t true, and we were eventually able to reveal the truth to her.  That helped her awaken her Persona.”  Rin looked away from Akira’s face, her eyes returning to the stairs Futaba had departed down.  “And her ideal life involved her mother being alive again.  With her breaking out of that illusion… her mother is probably… not here anymore.”

“...I see,” Rin said, her face still impassive.  “I would also want to be alone.”

Akira gazed at Rin a moment longer.  He’d wanted his team, and he’d gotten Futaba and her instead.  It was both more and less than what he’d hoped for.  He just hoped that it was enough for them to confront Maruki and rescue Sumire.

As Akechi had said, hope was all they had left.

Chapter Text

Akira rolled over on his bed the next morning, finding himself somewhat bitter.  No sign of the Velvet Room in his dreams again, even after he’d met with Rin and heard about her trip to the Room.  He felt… entitled?  Was it entitled to expect the supernatural aid and guidance to continue from one world-distorting threat to another?  He brushed it aside.  If he reasoned it out, then ‘his’ Velvet Room wasn’t ready.  Lavenza and Igor had both been through great ordeals, and apparently had to bring in hired help to contact someone else to help him.  He wasn’t abandoned, but they needed more hands on deck.  Yeah, that made sense.

It didn’t actually make sense.

He rolled over to see Rin still sleeping on the couch, where Morgana had been most recent nights.  They’d gotten her a blanket and spare pillow, and she’d wrapped herself up like a cocoon and fallen asleep.  Akira wondered where Morgana had been.  Perhaps the Sakura spare room.

Akira checked his phone, saw that it was still early.  He rolled back over, trying to get some more sleep, but it was to no avail.  Eventually, he got up, got dressed downstairs, and started on breakfast for his team, which he guessed included Rin now.  She hadn’t asked to join the Phantom Thieves, but perhaps it was already implied by her helping out and having a Persona.  He’d have to ask her for a more definitive answer.  As for who else was on his team now… he was already counting Akechi, even if he staunchly maintained that it was all for his own ends, it was obvious that he was part of the team, especially after the duo-attack they had used against the shadow Maruki had summoned after taking Sumire.

He could dance around it… or he could just ask him.  Perhaps under the guise of other team-related activity… like breakfast?  Akira withdrew his phone from his pocket.

21Faces: Will you be joining us for breakfast, Crow?

The response was almost immediate.

DetectivePrince2: Your attempts to drag me in for ‘team bonding’ are as pathetic as they are misguided.

DetectivePrince2: But thank you for asking.

21Faces: Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?

DetectivePrince2: I can, but I’ll direct my ire somewhere more useful.

DetectivePrince2: I did want to speak with you privately last night, but you seemed preoccupied with Sakura and the new girl.

21Faces: Rin Tezuka.

DetectivePrince2: Oh I remember.  Regardless, I’ve discovered a few things about Maruki you should know.

As Akira prepared the breakfast curry, a variant he and Sojiro had developed, Akechi explained Maruki’s past with cognitive psience, including the laboratory that was supposed to be built in Odaiba, but was canceled.  Then, he had a question for Akira.

DetectivePrince2: When did Sakura come to her senses?

21Faces: It was… well, about twenty minutes or so before we spoke yesterday.

DetectivePrince2: That makes sense.

21Faces: Why?

DetectivePrince2: I researched her mother and Kunikazu Okamura.  Until last night, they had both been actually alive in the eyes of the world.

21Faces: What do you mean, ‘actually alive’?

DetectivePrince2: Exactly what I said.  Legally, physically, they had never died.  But checking back last night, I found several articles talking about the death of Wakaba Isshiki about two and a half years ago, though each lists a different date and cause of death.

DetectivePrince2: It would seem Maruki’s reality can be changed by a shift in cognition, though it seems to struggle to adapt.

21Faces: What are you saying?  That Futaba did actually kill her mother?

DetectivePrince2: No.  I’m suggesting that Sakura accepting that her mother is dead placed us all in a reality where that’s true.  But Maruki’s power is having trouble making all the puzzle pieces fit.

DetectivePrince2: What I know of the world we are in is quite limited, since logic and reason seem to break down under the pressure of scrutiny.  Facts change, and people seem to be living alongside each other with parallel perceptions of the world.

DetectivePrince2: For instance, the Phantom Thieves.  In speaking with each of your teammates, you must have wondered what there even was to fight back against in this world.

21Faces: I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t something I was trying to puzzle out.

DetectivePrince2: The short answer is dozens of minor cases of abuse and neglect, and then Shido.  Shido seems to have been too large an incident to erase.  I can’t really research this further, because every day we’re here the history of the world is different.

DetectivePrince2: It’s as if everyone is living in their own private reality, which brushes up against its neighbors and those who know them, but never contradicts them.  Those who are aware of this, like you, me, Sakura and Tezuka seem to shift between these worlds with each person we interact with.  It makes establishing any facts about the world impossible.

21Faces: That does sound maddening.

DetectivePrince2: It’s more than that.  It’s disgusting.

21Faces: You seem to have very strong feelings about this.

DetectivePrince2: You want to stop him and you don’t?

21Faces: Strong is the wrong word for how I feel.  Conflicted maybe?

21Faces: This reality… it comes from a good place.  He wanted to help people.

DetectivePrince2: So did those physicians who drove icepicks into peoples’ skulls in the 1940s.

DetectivePrince2: Lobotomies were meant to help those ‘afflicted’ by what was perceived as ‘deficiencies.’

21Faces: You always know how to pick the best examples.

DetectivePrince2: What I’m trying to say is that intent doesn’t count for much of what you’re doing is fundamentally wrong.

21Faces: I understand all that.  But what I don’t get is why you have such a fire in your heart over this.

21Faces: What about this rubs you the wrong way?

A moment passed as the ‘typing’ indicator appeared and disappeared multiple times.  Akira took the rice out of the rice cooker and plated the curry, setting it out on the countertop for his one of his two teammates before his third one responded.

DetectivePrince2: I made my choice.  I wasn’t happy with it, but I was content.

DetectivePrince2: It was the only way things could… or really should have turned out.

21Faces: You mean turning yourself in?

DetectivePrince2: Among other things.

DetectivePrince2: For him to rob me of this because he thinks he knows what’s best is repulsive.

DetectivePrince2: If he thinks that his ability to make this world is what makes this acceptable, that ‘might makes right’ in a sense, then we will just have to take that ability from him.

Akira was still looking at the chat, trying to formulate a response when Rin walked down in her pajamas.  It was a little early, but she must have been an early riser.  She slid herself into one of the high chairs without a word and Akira slid the curry and rice over to her.  She glanced at it with a blank look.

“Is there really only coffee and curry here?” she asked.

Akira chuckled.  “Sorry, it’s just been my life for almost a year.  I can make some eggs and toast if you like.”

“No, this is fine,” she replied.  She shifted in place, maneuvering herself so she could use her feet, then plucked up a spoon with her toes and got to work on her plate.

“How did you sleep?” Akira asked as he plated more curry for Futaba.  He quickly texted her, then set the plate on the countertop.

“In a blanket, on the couch,” Rin replied.  Akira found his lip curling in amusement.  She was definitely Yusuke’s friend. 

“Any dreams?” he asked.  She said nothing, though Akika thought he might have seen her make a dark expression between mouthfuls of rice.

“Just… dreaming about what a jellyfish thinks about,” Rin said, after swallowing her rice.

Akira chuckled. “They don’t think about anything, they don’t have brains.”

“But maybe you just think that,” Rin countered, leveling her spoon at him.  “What if this whole thing we’re in is just the super-dream that all jellyfish share with their invisible brains?”  Against his better instincts, Akira found himself contemplating what she described, before realizing how absurd it was and the imagined scenario crumbled under its own weight.  They chatted some more, and the minutes ticked by.

“What’s happening today?” Rin asked, as she finished her plate.

“Well, today’s the ultimatum Dr. Maruki set for us, and we’re going to go confront him,” Akira said, realizing there was still a lot to get Rin up to speed on.  “But I wanted to stop by the clinic and equipment shop first, see if you needed anything.”

Rin tilted her head to the side and stared past him for a moment. “So, does medicine work like food in the Metaverse?”

“In a way,” Akira replied. “And replica weapons and armor are often just as good as the real thing.  We’ll be stopping by an airsoft shop to stock up on equipment.  Speaking of which… how do you fight, beside your Persona?”

Rin contemplated for a moment, then simply answered: “I kick a lot.”

“Any special equipment?” Akira asked, cleaning his own coffee cup in the sink.  

“I got some wooden sandals,” Rin said. “But I don’t think combat sandals are something we can find easily.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Akira said, drying his hands and checking the time.  Futaba should be here by now, he saw that she did get and read his message.  Perhaps she just needed to talk privately.

“Well, not anymore,” Rin murmured to herself.

“I’m going to check on Futaba,” Akria said, hanging his apron up and grabbing his coat.  “You’re good here?”

Rin simply nodded in reply, and Akira stepped out into the back-alley of Yongen-Jaya. It wasn't snowing yet, but the winter’s late dawn made it look like it should.  Light was barely peaking into the alleyway, and he saw his breath materialize in front of him in the cold.  He looked up to see Sojiro rounding the corner, so he met him a few steps from the front door to the café.  He had his black winter coat on, with the matching black hat.

“Off so soon, kid?” Sojiro asked. “What about your new friend?”

“She’s still in there,” Akira said, then continued before Sojiro could ask more. “I just need to check on Futaba.  We have some… activities we need to do today.”  Dare he bring up the Phantom Thieves?  What did the Sojiro in this reality know or believe?  Did he still think Wakaba was alive?

Sojiro’s brow furrowed and he sighed. “Good luck.  She’s not feeling great today.”  He leaned over conspiratorially, and spoke in a lower tone: “She asked me about her mother last night, like it was fresh in her mind.  I think it’s a bad day for her.”

Well, that seemed to answer one question.  Wakaba being alive was part of Futaba’s reality, and Sojiro’s conception had shifted as well when she broke free.  But it also pointed to bigger issues if she wouldn’t leave her room.

“I’ll be gentle, I just want to go over some stuff with her,” Akira offered, trying to allay what he suspected was concern from Sojiro to not push her too hard.  If only he knew…

Sojiro pulled at his beard, then sighed.  “And is your new friend involved with all that cognitive psience business?” he asked.

“She is,” Akira said firmly. With all they’d been through, it was good to know he could still rely on Sojiro. “And she may need a place to stay while we handle one last thing.  It’s… big.”

Sojiro rubbed his neck and sighed, but Akira could tell it wasn’t actual exasperation, just sarcasm. “I just can’t seem to avoid collecting problem children, can I?”

Akira smiled.  “It seems not.  Thank you, Sojiro.”

Sojiro waved him off, and Akira made his way around the street to the Sakura residence.  He slipped inside and up to Futaba’s room, where his knock at the door was met with a tiny “come in” from inside, much to his surprise.

Futaba was up and clothed, but was sitting in her computer chair, crouched in her preferred position, feet up on the seat, her orange hair draped around her like a cloak or blanket.  She was fiddling with her fingers, looking down and away from Akira as he entered. 

“I figured you’d want to talk alone,” Akira said as he sat down on her bed.

“I mean, yeah,” she mumbled. “I just spent a week thinking my mom was alive again, and she was kind of there, and then… I know you must hate me, and I was thinking of a way we-”

“Slow down a moment, Futaba,” Akira said, holding his hand up. “I don’t hate you.”

She looked up at him, eyes wet enough that Akira could tell she had been crying, but had cleaned herself up. “But… why not?” was all she said.

“‘Why not?’” Akira said, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Why would I, Futaba?”

“Because,” she sniffled. “I was busy pretending my life was perfect, and ignoring my instincts telling me something was wrong, you were fighting for me.  I mean…” she sighed and then recomposed herself. “Me… all of us pretending not to notice means you had to work with Akechi, for crying out loud!  Someone who isn’t even part of the Thieves was able to break the illusion and find you to help you before I was…”

Akira let out a small sigh. “None of that is your fault, Futaba,” he said. “I probably would have worked with Akechi even if all of you weren’t trapped, this situation is just that weird.  And Tezuka-san had help from the Velvet Room.”

“But-”

“I don’t blame you, Futaba,” Akira said, cutting off whatever thing she was about to spin up to put herself down again. “Living with your mom for a week, you deserve it.  I can’t say I wouldn’t have ignored any sense of the uncanny if I’d been placed back home, living with my parents and my old friends.”

“I guess…” Futaba said quietly.  “It’s weird, how it wasn’t just an illusion.  My mom was alive again… if only for a while.  And it felt so… right to just go along with it.  But… it was also wrong.”  She looked up, determination in her face. “I’d never have joined the Phantom Thieves if my life was just like Maruki made it.  What other opportunities might I have missed if I lived in some custom-built game of The Sims, like he wants, right?”

Akira just nodded, and let her continue.

“I made a promise to you and everyone else,” she explained. “And I don’t want to let you down.  And I think… If my mom could see me, out and about, socializing and helping others… she’d be pretty proud…”

“I’m sure she would,” Akira said, and Futaba nodded to herself, closing her eyes.  Akira felt a tug at his soul, and a shift in the air as something he had experienced before returned. Blue shards sparkled as he felt a surge of power emanate from Futaba, one just like when Personas were fused in the Velvet Room.  Her Persona had changed, just like it had for his teammates before, but this was different.  She had united Necronomicon and Prometheus into a new form, and Akira couldn’t wait to see what she could do.

“Thanks… for listening to all that,” she said, as Akira returned his attention to the physical world. “I’m all cleared up, no status effects on me any more!”  

Akira smiled.  “Glad to hear.  We should get back to Leblanc; your curry’s still cooling and I’m sure Tezuka-san is ready to get going.”

Futaba gave a mock gasp.  “My curry!”

The team’s breakfast was uneventful after that, and they were able to get out and about relatively soon.  Futaba spoke with Sojiro about where they were going, and after a moment of thought, scribbled something on a post-it note and handed it to Sojiro.  As they stepped back out into the winter morning, Rin gave a shiver, but they were able to warm themselves back up at Takemi’s clinic.  A short round of conversation later, they left with a bag of new medical supplies.  Back in the not-quite freezing air, Rin gave another shiver.  Akira looked her up and down; it wasn’t that cold, but Akira noticed that she was still wearing sandals with no socks.  It made sense, she needed her toes to manipulate anything, but perhaps…

“Tezuka-san, do you have any socks or shoes… or a hat?” Akira asked as they walked through Yongen-Jaya.

She shook her head. “I don’t wear shoes,” she said. “I had a hat, but it disappeared after New Years… a friend gave it to me and we don’t know each other now.”

Akira and Futaba shared a knowing glance. “We can get you a hat, but what do you normally do for footwear in cold weather like this?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I… be cold.”

“That’s no-good, Tezuka-san!” Futaba exclaimed, as they descended the stairs to the subway on their way to Shibuya.

“Just Rin, please,” she said, plainly.

“Okay, Rin,” Futaba continued. “But most of your body heat escapes through your head, neck and feet.  We can’t have you getting sick.”

Rin didn’t respond for a moment.  It looked to Akira like she was remembering some past incident, but she eventually partially acquiesced.  Or at least, didn’t outright object.  “But I do need my feet to pick up things, and socks and shoes are hard to manage.”

“We can figure something out,” Akira said as the train arrived. “I don’t want our newest teammate to be cold or get a cold.” Rin didn’t react to being called their teammate, other than clamming up again and staring down in thought.  They found their seats on the miraculously uncrowded subway, and Futaba pulled out her phone, and started looking up some local stores, from what Akira could see over her shoulder.  Rin was content not to chat, so Akira obliged her.

Their trip around Shibuya was productive, grabbing a few snack items and canned drinks, before stopping at the 705 department store and looking for something for Rin’s feet.  The clerk they waved down was very understanding, and proposed a few different solutions for them.  Ultimately, after much wavering back and forth on Rin’s part, she settled on a few sets of socks with toes, another few with holes for her toes, and two set of shoes: one that were low-backed slippers lined with fur, and a pair of slip-on sneakers, patterned with a faint cloud texture.  She also requested a green beanie they passed by, like she had seen it before.  As they all moved to check out, Rin began fishing out her wallet from one of the inside pockets of her cargo pants.

“No need, Te- I mean Rin,” Akira said, pulling out his own wallet. “I can cover this.”

She looked at him suspiciously.  “But it’s my clothes,” she said.

“Consider it all a late Christmas present,” Akira countered.  She accepted, and he paid.  It was pricey, but he also had more than enough money left from an extended Mementos trip and their encounter with the Reaper.

In the lobby of the store, as Futaba helped Rin into her new socks, shoes and hat, Akira’s phone buzzed.  He stepped away to check it and he found Akechi messaging him.

DetectivePrince2: Where are you?  You’d said you’d be here by now.

21Faces: Sorry about that.  You’ll probably want to find a cafe or someplace to loiter at, equipping our newest member is taking longer than expected.  See you in…

Akira quickly checked the train schedule from Shibuya to Odaiba.

21Faces: An hour and a half?

DetectivePrince2: …You are very lucky I brought a book to read.

21Faces: Thank you, Crow. (*_ _)人 

Rin stood from her seat, walking about in her new socks and shoes.  Her face was as blank as ever, but Akira felt he could sense some shift in her demeanor.  

“It is a lot warmer,” she conceded as they stepped back out onto the street.

“See?  I told you,” Futaba half-jokingly gloated.

Their last stop before heading off was Untouchable, to equip Rin for battle.  They entered, and found Iwai polishing a set of matching handguns, one black and one silver.  Futaba instantly overcame her social anxiety, and rushed over to ask Iwai about them, but Rin hung back and squinted at him, like she was trying to place his face.

They found suitable armor for Rin, then Akira asked if Iwai had any combat footwear, to which Iwai raised an eyebrow.

“It’s for…” Akira began.

“Didn’t ask, kid,” Iwai cut him off. “You know the policy.  As it happens…” he reached under the table and placed what looked like an over-large shoebox on the counter. “These got sent to me by mistake with a bunch of other cosplay stuff.”

It was amusing that Iwai was a gruff, no-nonsense ex-Yakuza member… who also knew quite a bit about nerdy otaku stuff, on account of all the props he dealt with.  Akira didn’t recognize the twin pistols with the extended barrels that he had been working on, but judging from the way Futaba was magnetically drawn to them (and was still entranced by them), they must have been some kind of anime or game prop.

Iwai lifted the top off of the box to reveal a set of what looked like… combat sandals.  They looked like nothing so much as a set of heavy combat boots with thick, heavy soles, but with leather straps and buckles instead of a traditional shoe.  It was close enough to Rin’s shoe size, so Akira gingerly fished one out of the box and held it up, like an infomercial presenter for Rin.  She studied it from many angles, and she briefly leaned in to sniff it.  She leaned back and nodded to Akira, and he placed it back in the box, which Iwai placed the lid back on and rummaged under the counter for a bag.

Behind him, Akira heard a whispered conversation.

“Rin, are you not getting a gun?” Futaba asked.

“It would be hard to use, but I could give it a shot,” Rin replied, a wry smile in her voice.

“Oh…” Futaba murmured, and Akira could envision her face turning red.

“If you want my gun I am apparently entitled to, you can have it,” Rin said, casually.

Futaba tugged at Akira’s sleeve, and she whispered to him: “Should I have a backup weapon, for if there’s a TPK and I’ve got to drag your bodies to safety?”

Akira was troubled by the question.  “You’ve never needed one before.”

Futaba shifted in place. “That was when we had a full frontline and backline,” she said.

“What about your uncle?” Akira asked.

“That… was personal,” Futaba said. “I wanted you to solo him because I knew you could, and it was just for me.  This… this is for real, no more training mode.”

It wasn’t a terrible idea to give their support member something to fall back on.  A small, personal pistol, perhaps.

“You say you needed a PPK?” Iwai asked, producing a small box and setting it on the counter.  All three of them looked over at it, and he removed the lid to reveal a plastic pistol inside; small, stubby, and slanted forward with a matte black finish.  It was a small hold-out pistol, but for Futaba’s hands it was almost normal sized.  It looked quite real, but for the orange tip.

Akira heard a quick intake of breath from Futaba, one that he’d learned from trips to Akihabara with her, and he’d come to associate with her suddenly seeing a new game or piece of computer tech that she’d researched online.

“Is that… the one that…” Futaba asked, her eyes wide as she peered down at the small gun.

“MI6 standard issue,” Iwai said, smirking as he removed the lollipop stick from his mouth. “Perfect for a jet-setting secret agent.”

Futaba looked back up at Akira with puppy-dog eyes, and found he could not resist. “We’ll take it with the sandals and armor,” he said, shooting the closest thing he had to a dirty look at Iwai, who just kept his grin as he replaced the lollipop stick.  Iwai was, after all, a salesman.

Iwai bagged all their purchases, and they exited back into the alley.

“He helped me fight Shadows on Christmas,” Rin said, as soon as they left.  Futaba made a thoughtful noise, and Akira felt his eyes widen.  It wasn’t out of character for Iwai to fight the end of the world, but it was still news.  “But he didn’t recognize me.  I guess… you need a Persona to remember?”

“Most likely,” Futaba said.  They crossed the main street and caught the next train to the artificial island of Odaiba.  Akira didn’t want to keep their moody, temporary teammate waiting any longer.

On a building very near to the physical expression of Maruki’s Palace, the thing that is not human observes the world, wearing a tall, thin human shape.

He has been all about Tokyo since the reality of the ideal was created, projecting his presence from his exile, thanks to the link with the doctor.  It pleases him to see the empty, vacious smiles on every face and the lack of comprehension behind their eyes, as humanity begins to unravel.  The old reality cannot last with this ‘paradise’ atop it, and when it crumbles, so too will humankind dissolve; the end to the human race, brought about by reckless human ‘kindness.’

The irony is delicious.

The only problem is one he observes approaching the Palace from his vantage point over the island.  Three bright souls, meeting up with the revenant.  He scowls.

Persona users.  He has much experience with such people, they have opposed him, and his current exile is the result of his defeat at the hands of a gang of such humans, backed by his opposite, Philemon.  He also used them as a vector for his plans in the past, but his observation of the world has led him to believe that more often than not, those who develop a Persona are tools of Philemon and his lackey Igor.  This is no exception, he can feel the stink of the wretched Velvet Room on several of them.

He would grind his teeth, if he possessed any at the moment; his shape is still… loose.  Dark, smooth and featureless.  He takes great pleasure in his many disguises, but that ability is hindered while outside the mental world at the moment.

The three meet with the one, and they enter the Metaverse with something they think is a piece of technology.  The thing that wears the shape of a human considers his options.  Any overt action or interference is almost beyond him with his current form of remote projection into the world, and anything he does on that scale will draw the attention of the Velvet Room.  This reality may be harder on Igor and his ilk, but they possess far more power to affect the world than he does, enough to send him back into exile, deprive him of this spectacular view of the end of humanity; his ultimate victory.

But he has seen this before.  A small force of Persona users can accomplish astounding things.  If he does nothing, this world will be undone, and the human race saved from oblivion.  

Neither option is acceptable.

Perhaps there is another way.  A way to nudge the pieces, without his enemies noticing.  The doctor is still naive to the extent of his powers, the breath of his Persona’s brethren that can and will aid him.  Perhaps… he can be convinced to call upon them.  Especially if he can be made to believe it is his own idea…

And once the doctor accepts their aid, who knows what else he might be able to do?

The featureless obsidian figure straightens, then vanishes from its rooftop post, into the Metaverse, to see what havoc it can sow.

The world stopped rippling, and Akira and company arrived in the Metaverse.  Futaba and Rin looked around at the tower and surrounding art installations.  Both their expressions were difficult to read with their masks.

Looking at her mask, Akira got his first look at Rin’s Metaverse attire.  The gray deer skull, tapering up to green at the antlers, the fur-lined capelet, and black dress that tapered to a darker, hunter green.  It was a striking look.  Futaba helped her get the combat sandals on, in place of her wooden geta.  

“I trust you vetted her combat abilities?” Akechi asked from over his shoulder as she took a few tentative steps, then nodded to Futaba.  The new sandals made her almost two centimeters taller.

“I just met her yesterday, so no,” Akira returned.  He looked over his shoulder to see Akechi roll his eyes behind his beaked facemask.

“Okay, are you ready to go Ri-” Akira stopped himself.  Right, a code name.  Rin tilted her head in confusion.

“Oh, that’s right, we need to pick a cool code name for you!” Futaba said. “We never use real names in the Metaverse.  It’s safer.”

“Though the Palace ruler already knows exactly who you all are this time,” Akechi added, a cruel smile in his voice.  Akira and Futaba shot him a warning look, but Rin looked down at her outfit.

“What kind of code name?” she asked.

“Joker, Oracle, Crow,” Akira said, pointing to himself, Futaba and Akechi in turn.  “We also have Mona, Fox, Queen, and others.  We kind of ended up sticking to mostly English… though we let Noir through.”

Rin took that in, and still looked down in thought.  She gave a little head shake as if to point out her mask.  “Skull?” she asked after a moment.

“Oh, we… already have a Skull,” Futaba said.

Rin nodded and returned to thought.  Akechi sighed loudly, but they all ignored him.  Not everyone wanted to name themselves, so Akira shifted on his heels and looked her over again.

“How about… Deer?  Or Horn?” he asked, and she shook her head rather quickly.

“Painter?” Futaba offered.

“You have a painter already,” Rin objected.

Akira nodded.  She was right there.  “Uhh… Green?” This was never his strong suit; he still wished Makoto had taken him up on ‘Rider.’

“How about Stumps?” Akechi said, his tone impatient and exasperated.  Akira almost said something, but Rin turned and stared him down with a face that was frighteningly blank.  After a few seconds, Akechi coughed and backed away.  “Whenever you’re done.”

Rin wandered away from the group, towards a large piece of reflective glass that was carved in a wave pattern, some kind of art installation that ran parallel to the path into the Palace.  She stared into the reflection, inspecting her outfit.  Akira thought he might have recognized the look in her eyes, like she was listening to something internal, like a Persona.  After a long moment, she turned back to the other three, a tiny smile on her face.

“My code name is Witch.”

Akira smiled.  “Okay, Witch.  It’s showtime.”

Chapter Text

Yusuke wandered into Leblanc, hoping for answers but finding only other questioning faces.  Ann and Morgana sat in a booth, with Makoto and Haru opposite them, and Ryuji on a bar stool, all looking morose and solemn.

“Hello, Kitagawa-kun…” Ann said, her voice lacking any of her usual pep or energy.

“Hello,” Yusuke returned.  “I came to speak with Akira but…”

“He ain’t here,” Ryuji said. “Boss said he was out and about with Futaba and another girl.”

Another girl?  Something pricked at the back of Yusuke’s mind.

“Boss gave me this,” Ann held up a small, folded post-it note. “Apparently, Futaba left us this for if we need to find them.”

“I was actually hoping to follow up with Akira…” Makoto said, fiddling with her coat cuff.

“It’s funny,” Haru said. “I think all of us wanted to speak with him.  This week…”

“It’s been so strange,” Morgana said, tugging at his shirt collar and rolling his neck like it was sore.  “I’ve been so confused.”

“Shiho and I saw him while we were shopping the other day, and he asked me something,” Ann said. “Something like… if I was okay with how my life was.  I didn’t really understand… but my heart seized up for some reason…”

“I felt something similar,” Morgana said. “Around the start of the year…”

“He asked me the same thing,” Ryuji added. “When I met up with the track team.”

“I feel like…” Haru began, but then stopped.

“Like… there’s something out of place in my heart, like there’s something I’m forgetting,” Makoto cut in.

“Something we’re all forgetting,” Yusuke said, and the other five nodded.

“It’s like… there’s this huge emptiness…” Ann said, staring down at her fiddling hands on the table.  “And I need to find what’s behind it, but…”

“It’s scary,” Haru continued. “I should be pretty happy about how everything is going.  My father’s been so supportive recently.  But then, when I think about my life, I ask myself… Why don’t I feel happy?”

“Do ya think…” Ryuji began, bobbing his leg. “That maybe we’re all running away from something super important?”  They all looked up at him, momentarily pulled from their various states of melancholy.  “Maybe the reason we all can’t stop thinking about what he said to us… was that he’s right?”

“That there’s something wrong,” Ann said. “But when he asked me… It felt so… dangerous to think about.  Like my memories were… I don’t know…”

“And now… it feels like Akira’s trying to handle something big,” Makoto said. “Something that he wanted our help on… and he might need us.”

“But it’s frightening to think about that,” Morgana murmured, shifting uncomfortably in his booth seat.  “Whatever that fear we all seemed to sense is…”

“I know what you mean,” Yusuke said.  That strange feeling of vague recollection coupled with memories that didn’t make any sense… that seems to be whisked away and plucked from his mind the instant he saw them.  There was no need to explain it, it seems they had all felt it.  “But no matter what terrible fate awaits on the other side of that fear… I want to move forward.  That’s what it means to be an artist.”  He looked around at the other five.  His teammates.

“When he spoke, I saw all of us together,” Yusuke continued. “I don’t know what the image meant, but I know that our bond is a genuine one.  That it’s something important, something… unbreakable.”

Ann smiled. “I agree.  I don’t want to be alone again, and if we don’t do something… I feel like that bond will wither away.”

“I’m not gonna bail on a friend like that,” Ryuji said, passion returning to his voice. “That’s not the kinda friend I am, and it sure as shit ain’t the kinda person I wanna be!”

“I was so frightened,” Makoto said, looking up from her hands on the table. “Because it feels like I finally have everything I ever wanted, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong… and I just know that I have to do something about it.”

“Me too,” Haru added. “I can’t bear to go back to my life without knowing what Akira has been doing for us… what it is he wanted… both from us and for us.”

“It’s true… I am happy right now,” Morgana said, looking up at the rest of them. “But I can’t accept this situation.  I’m done running from my problems!”

And with all six of their resolves focused on moving forward, the ideal world fell away with a sound like shattering glass.

With the team lineup complete, the four Phantom Thieves began their infiltration with an elevator ride up into the Palace, as Akira explained the situation with Sumire to Futaba and Rin, catching them up.  Rin nodded as he explained the shifted cognition to them, and Akira remembered that Maruki had apparently tried to do something similar to her, as she had explained in a mumbled torrent the other day.

“It only makes sense he would test that ability on more than one person,” Akechi said. “He’s a scientist, after all.  But what gives him power over reality instead of just cognition?”

“I think it’s at the bottom of the subways,” Rin said, leaning back against the glass of the elevator. “On Christmas Eve, he said he had to get to the bottom of the mental world.  I… helped him, held off Shadows, because he said it was the only way to undo the Fusion.”

Akechi scoffed, but it seemed to be directed at Maruki and not at Rin.  Futaba crossed her arms. “If he got to the Prison of Regression, where the Grail was, then he could have used that spot…  The current reality seems to be an overlap of the Metaverse and material world, but I’m not sure how he could have possibly managed something like that.”

“I think we should revisit the Prison at the bottom of Mementos, once we’ve rescued Sumire,” Akira said, as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to the laboratory lobby. “See what he did, maybe we can undo it from there.”  He stepped forward into the lobby, and the other three followed suit.

The approach into Maruki’s Palace was largely unchanged, but seeing it a second time, Akira noticed details he had missed when he, Akechi and ‘Kasumi’ had infiltrated just over a week ago.  The way every cognitive patient smiled, wide and blank, as the Shadow researchers passed between them, occasionally selecting one and taking them away by the hand struck Akira as rather more sinister.  It was the way the Shadows towered over a normal person, almost like they were adults selecting from a crop of oblivious children.  This is how Maruki envisions his world, he thought: naïve innocents being saved through research and testing, the masses submitting themselves for the chance to be chosen by a benevolent director… Akechi had been right to call it all “cult-like.”

A Shadow moved towards them in the crowd, and all four of them ducked into cover behind some of the displays.  The girls split off, leaving Akira with Akechi for a moment as the Shadow spoke with some of the nearby cognitive patients.

“Could you try and be a little less of a callous ass?” Akira hissed at Akechi, while they had a moment. “You’ve barely met Ri- Witch.”

“I have nothing against her,” he said, as he watched the Shadow turn and head back past their hiding spot.  

“Then wh-” Akira began, but Akechi cut him off.

“Have you seen anyone be shocked or offended in Maruki’s reality?”

“...No?” Akira responded, a bit thrown.

“Of course you haven’t,” Akechi continued, under his breath. “It’s all saccharine pleasantries and dreams-come-true.  Being… abrasive is the one way I can be sure I’m still… in control, as it were.  And it makes for a nice kind of shibboleth.”

“A… what?”

Akechi sighed, clearly expecting better from Akira. “Let’s just say that if I start acting ‘pleasant’ again, something is very wrong.”

Akira rolled his eyes, but privately he could see Akechi’s reasoning.  His caustic personality certainly made him unique in the world of the ‘ideal.’  The Shadow took two of the patients by the hands and led them away, the black oil of its body seeping down their arms as it held their hands.  The four thieves met up again once the Shadow and its charges passed through a door.

“These people, they’re just dreams, right?” Rin asked. “Imaginary?”

“Yeah,” Futaba answered.  “Cognitions.  Just a projection of Maruki’s idea of people.”

“They look so…” Rin trailed off as she stared at a small group huddled around one of the bulletin boards promising an end to suffering.  They all waited for her to finish, but she turned back to the group, the sentence apparently abandoned.

“I agree,” Akechi said dryly.  Rin looked at him, and her eyes narrowed behind her mask as they made eye contact.  Akira couldn’t study their faces, obscured by the masks as they were, but the two seemed to be communicating something with their brief look.  Not hostile as Akira first suspected, but something more… complex.

“Where to?” Rin asked after a moment.

“Main hall’s through here,” Akira said, gesturing to the large, white door. “Oracle, can you map this place out?” 

“Already on it,” Futaba answered.

They proceeded, retracing the exploration Akira, Akechi and Yoshizawa had trod in their expedition.  They hid behind a corner to avoid a Shadow researcher, but ran up against an issue when a security Shadow stood in their way at the end of a hallway, no possibility of slipping by.

“Let’s just kill it and be done with it,” Akechi whispered as they peered around the corner, a little bit of his battle-lust slipping into his voice.  “I want to see what our new ally can do, anyway.”

It was probably a good idea for a trial-run, so Akira could find out what she specialized in, as just asking her had been unproductive.  He nodded to the other three, withdrew the grappling hook from the hidden fold inside his coat sleeve, and cast it out at the Shadow.  The hook wrapped around its head before it could react, and a quick pull on the line removed its mask.  The three of them rushed across the room to surround the creature as it disintegrated into black sludge and Futaba was whisked up into her new Persona: a sleek, metallic floating triangle with glowing runes on its underside.

The Shadow’s form exploded into three separate beings.  A Chimera, with its lion head and mane, goat head on its spine and snake head-tail, a Bugs stuffed with human skulls as usual, and something he had seen in Maruki’s Palace before: a large humanoid arthropod with a yellow-and-black shell that hung ominously in mid-air.  Futaba labeled it Evil Synthetic Organism.

Akechi acted immediately, summoning Loki and nearly slicing the Bugs in half with his Lævateinn skill.  Loki’s glowing red blade swung down on the Shadow and knocked it to the ground.  With the advantage, Akira summoned Belial and finished the demented teddy bear off with an Agidyne spell.  As the ashes of the Shadow blew away, he assessed the two remaining Shadows.  He had fused Chimera before, and Futaba’s new Persona handley labeled its weakness to curse magic.  He was about to pass the action back to Akechi to handle it when Rin acted.

“Lomi!” she shouted, her mask vanishing as her Persona appeared: a broad, muscular woman with blue skin and a striking mix of renaissance and modern street fashion.  “Maeigeon!” Rin said, and her Persona spun some kind of combination paintbrush/halberd, then stabbed the weapon into the ground.  Black and red shockwaves emanated out across the ground, blasting the Chimera off its paws and hooves, down to the ground.  

She has curse skills too, Akira noted, trying to construct something like a decent party composition with just the three of them.  ‘Lomi’ probably also possessed some physical attacks, if the serrated machete she held in her other hand was any indication.

Akira refocused on the last and only still-standing Shadow, the Evil Synthetic Organism.  He had noticed that the curse attack had bounced right off its shell, completely unaffected.  He stared into its over-sized, red, insectile eyes and tried to quickly think of what to try against it before the creature recovered from their ambush, when Futaba spoke over the mental link her Persona provided.

“I’m not sure what this means,” she said, sounding slightly unsure. “Al Azif is saying that it… ‘recognizes’ this Shadow?  Not sure from where… but stats incoming!”   With that, the description that it was tagged with changed.  It was called a Byakhee, and Al Azif provided its affinities for all of them to see.  It was weak to nuclear attacks, and Akira was about to swap his Persona when he noticed Rin moving.  She stepped forward, a bit unsure, but her mask dissolved into blue flames again.  But a different figure appeared behind her now.

Is she a Wild Card too?! Akira wondered as he took in her new Persona: a robed figure, filled with multi-colored nebula clouds, two stars burning bright under its hood, where its eyes should have been.  Flames licked the hem of its robe, and dark red hands poked out of sleeves, each holding a complex orbital model of what looked like a solar system, or maybe a galaxy.

“Giordano!” Rin shouted.  So it was a separate Persona. “Freidyne!”

A twinkle of light above them was followed by a downward streak of blue light, and then a blindingly bright blue light as the nuclear spell devastated the Byakhee, knocking it out of the air with an alien-sounding scream.  With all the remaining Shadows down, Akira and Akechi drew their pistols and surrounded them.  Rin looked a bit lost, but surrounded them as well, simply taking a cautious stance around the Shadows.

As much as Akira wanted to negotiate and see what the Byakhee had to offer, they needed to move.  Sumire was waiting for them.  He nodded to Akechi and Rin, and all of them leapt into the fray, shredding the Shadows back into whatever strange fluid they were composed of with an all-out attack.

As Futaba descended from her Persona and Akira scooped up the loose change the Shadows left behind, Akechi sheathed his sword and gave Rin another look.

“Not bad, Witch,” he said, something worrying close to honesty in his voice.  “I was worried you would freeze up, but you’re fairly quick on your feet.”

A small smile crept onto Rin’s face behind her mask. “I guess I am.  They’re all I’ve got, after all.”

Akira pocketed the spare yen and turned to look Rin up and down once more.  “You have more than one Persona,” he said, not really knowing where he was going.  It sounded almost like an accusation.

Rin looked at him, her expression hard to read with the deer mask, but Akira had a feeling it was her normal blank. “I do,” she replied.

“Are you a Wild Card?” Akira asked, unable to stop himself.  Akechi and Futaba both raised an eyebrow at the term.  

Rin thought for a moment, looking past Akira at something only she could see. “No,” she eventually responded. “But the people in the Velvet Room said that anyone could hold more than one Persona.  Even if they aren’t… special.”

“I mean, it’s not too rare,” Futaba said, cutting off Akira’s response. “Crow has more than one, and in some sense Prometheus was a separate Persona from Necronomicon, which is how I fused them.”

Akira had the urge to correct and argue and probe further, but now wasn’t the time.  He started a mental list of what Rin could do, and moved on.

After a few more battles and navigating the endless, cold, pristine and surgically sterile white hallways of the Palace, the four of them eventually made it past the test track area where they had confronted Maruki last, and into a large, hexagonal room, an amphitheater or meeting hall of some kind.  Spotlights ignited and filled the room with white light as they walked into the center, revealing the tiers of cognitive onlookers in the bleachers on each side, and the small staircase up to the blue glass throne at the back of the space that held Sumire, still dressed in her bright red winter coat, motionless and slumped in the chair.  At her side, almost lost in the sea of similarly dressed people, was Takuto Maruki, his outfit pure white, his hair slicked back, his stubble shaved.

“I’m so glad you could make it…” Maruki began as the lights flooded the room, before seeing that there were four figures in the center of the room, rather than just Akira and Akechi, who had retreated a week prior.  A slight hint of trouble seemed to cross his face, as Rin stood behind Akechi, and Maruki tilted his head, trying to see who it was.

“What have you done with Sumire?” Akira asked, trying to keep the doctor off-balance.

“Oh, she’s merely asleep,” he replied, gesturing to her. “She’s been through a terrible ordeal, so she needed time to rest before she could resume the life she wishes for.  I’d never hurt her, she’s my patient.”

“So was I,” Rin said, stepping out from behind Akechi and standing beside him. “But you hurt me.”

Maruki looked genuinely taken aback.  It seemed that for all his power over the world, he hadn’t seen that Rin had slipped through his net.  “Tezuka-san?” he asked, taking a half-step back in surprise.

Rin did something with her head and neck, jerked it quickly to slide her mask up onto her forehead so he could see her face. “Why?”  It was an impossibly broad question, but all present there knew exactly what she meant.

“I… I didn’t hurt you, Tezuka-san,” Maruki responded, regaining some composure.  “I gave you what you wanted.  That boy you loved, you could be with him, and he could finally understand you, just as you always wished.  It was the best thing I could do for you, to repay you for your assistance.”

Rin made a small noise, like a snort or a sneer, but said nothing else.  Her brow furrowed, like she couldn’t think of what to say in response, when Akechi spoke up.  “Oh, so the doctor knows best does, he?  The savior in white who can grant wishes?”  Rin turned and looked Akechi in the eye, and Akechi looked back down at her, and Akira saw something happen between them.  An… acknowledgement?  He thought he saw an understanding form between them.

“It’s not what I know, Akechi-kun, it’s what she knows,” Maruki countered. “When I gained this power, I could see everyone in Tokyo’s innermost regrets and desires.  I’m not the one choosing what happens, you are.”

“But you chose to do this,” Rin said.  “You made this happen, and you lied to me to do it.”

“Not everyone’s wishes are best for them, or even good,” Akechi added. “Dreams can be hard to tell from nightmares when you stand at a distance.”

“You destroyed everyone’s life and gave them a counterfeit,” Rin said, as the two of them began to form some kind of verbal tag-team against Maruki.

“But they are all happier now,” Maruki said, his body language growing more animated as they argued. “The world I've created has already led to the happiness of tens of millions of people.  I’m doing what the Phantom Thieves did, just on the largest scale imaginable.  You all removed toxic and cruel people from power, but in the end the nature of our world always leaves more people behind, no matter how many abusive teachers or corrupt politicians you target.  I’m just removing the ultimate target: reality itself.  The world I’ve created-”

“What ‘world’?” Futaba burst out. “Have you even been outside the Palace, and seen what it’s like?  It makes no sense!  The dead live, people who are terrible for each other hold hands like they’re true loves, nothing ever changes, and you think that’s better?  That it even qualifies as a reality and not a bad joke?”  Maruki’s impression softened when Futaba spoke, as if he viewed her more impassioned argument like a child’s tantrum. 

“You’re just manipulating the whole world, brainwashing them so you can feel like you’re doing something useful, all just for your own self-satisfaction!” Akechi spat.

“It’s saddening to hear that you all conceptualize it that way,” Maruki said, shaking his head. “But even if that were the case, if my ‘self-satisfaction’ leads to the happiness of millions, then it’s still the best outcome, don’t you agree?”

“No,” said Rin in a low voice. “You said that we should all just accept our dreams and live forever in a haze.  If we never grow, how can we ever learn?”

“How can anyone defend themselves from heartbreak and grief if they never experience it?” Akira interjected. “What happens to those who grow old?”

“Or does no one ever mourn the dead in your world?” Akechi added.

“You’re all confused, and I don’t blame you for it,” Maruki said, placing a hand on the blue glass throne that Sumire sat in.  “When your life is defined by loss and failure, cruelty and abuse, it’s not easy to imagine a world without it, to see what lies beyond.  It’s not easy to imagine something new: a world without pain.” 

“And what about those who can’t… or won’t be happy?” Rin asked, her voice quiet and still.

Maruki sighed. “Once I’ve perfected it, they won’t be unhappy or depressed; those concepts won’t exist.  I can free them, free all of humanity from the history of unhappiness that has shackled us!  It will be an entirely new world!”

“Oh, I see,” Akechi said, real venom slowly creeping into his voice. “Not only does he want to struggle against the hand of fate and trudge backwards up the current of time to make it so there was never any suffering at all, but he wants to make us all innocents in the Garden of Eden again.”

Something happened on Maruki’s face, something Akira couldn’t quite catch.  “If that is how you want to see it, then yes, Akechi-kun,” he said, in a smaller, more measured voice.  Had Akechi struck a nerve?

“And I suppose that would make you the god of the new world, then?” Akechi continued. “The shepherd to the flock of sinless, empty, human-shaped vessels?  What an absolute farce of a therapist you are, trying to rewrite reality instead of just teaching people to cope with their trauma.”

“Damn,” Futaba whispered softly, as Akechi tore into Maruki.

Silence hung in the room as Maruki looked away and did not answer.  Akira wasn’t sure if he had been genuinely affected by that insult, or if Maruki was simply not dignifying it with a response. After a moment, Rin took a step forward, and Maruki looked down on her.

“Why did you lie to me, Doctor?” she asked, her tone even and plaintive, but final.

“I never lied, Tezuka-san,” he responded, sighing. “I told you that I would restore and correct the world, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”  

“Oh, I see,” Futaba shouted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “So what you told her was true, ‘from a certain point of view’!”

Rin’s brow furrowed.  “Why didn’t you tell me what you would do?  Why did you… make it sound like you would just save people from being turned into Shadows?”

“If I had, would you have helped me?” he asked.

Rin just stared at him, her answer in her silence.

“Just saving everyone from the oblivion Yaldabaoth inflicted on them was not enough for me,” Maruki continued. “I’m not interested in settling for an imperfect world when I have the means to create a perfect one.  Resetting the world and letting it return to the same unjust state as before…”  He took a step forward. “In my mind, that is the real crime.”

“What a load of absolut-” Akechi began, but was cut off.

“I asked you to go see your friends, see what they thought of this world,” Maruki continued, speaking to Akira. “See what they thought of their new lives.  They’re all happy with this outcome, you saw it yourself.  If you want, you can still join them.  If you choose this of your own free will…” 

“Not a chance,” Akira said, placing his hand on Futaba’s shoulder.  “First off, holding this whole set-up over our heads is blatant coercion, which blows up your whole ‘free will’ thing.  Second, my teammate broke out of your world as soon as she learned what was happening, so that shows me not only that they’re not really happy, you also knew that they wouldn’t be cooperative and you knew this was wrong.  You had to alter their memories to get them to accept it.  I’ll never allow a world like that.”

Akira blinked, and for the briefest moment, he saw a blue butterfly in the air.  Then it was gone, and all he saw was Maruki’s disappointed grimace.  “It seems that there’s no agreement, still…” he mumbled, but as he did, Sumire stirred to life.

“No…” she muttered as she straightened herself on the throne. “You can’t be serious, Akira-senpai.  I… I have to live as Kasumi, there’s no other way!”

Akira sighed, shifting gears and tried to think of how best to convince Sumire that her delusion was the worst decision.  He tried to think of what he might say to himself, as the walls were closing in on him after he was arrested, what words might have brought comfort?  But he hadn’t been dealing with a dead sister and survivor’s guilt; the scale of the problem was all off. He gave it his best shot anyway: “You can’t let that pain control you, Sumire.  Your sister wanted you to live, she pushed you out of the way, she chose to save you. ”

“Then she was wrong!” Sumire shouted, standing up out of the chair. “This pain, it’s… too much!  I can’t just move on!  She’s gone, and it’s Sumire’s fault!  I can’t live her life, I have to be Kasumi!”

Akechi slid a glance at Akira at her reference to herself in the third person.  Akira caught his meaning: he thought this was a waste of time, that she was too far gone.  Akira looked back at Sumire to see her form erupt in a flare of blue, and she leapt down off the throne in her Metaverse attire, her leotard, long black coat and thigh-high boots.  Rin didn’t move as she flew past her to land right in front of Akira.

“Please, you have to let me live this life, it’s what I want,” she said, her hand shaking as she placed it on the hilt of her rapier.

“You making that choice means that no one else will be able to,” Rin said, slowly circling around to look Sumire in the eye, and shaking her head to knock her mask back down onto her face.  “Joker told me about your sister.  She died.  Is that what you want to be?  A dead person?”

Akira wasn’t sure what Rin was trying to say, but it sure wasn’t helping.  Sumire gritted her teeth and drew her sword, pointing it at Rin. “I don’t know who you are, but stay back, or I’ll…” Sumire’s knees buckled as she struggled to stay upright.

“Sumire, you can’t be serious,” Akira said, holding his hands out in an attempt to calm her down.

“No!” she shouted. “I’m Kasumi!  I have to be…”

Akechi scoffed. “How stubborn.  She's beyond reason at this point.”  He turned and approached behind Akira.  “I could just deal with her right now, and you wouldn’t even have to get your hands dirty, but you’d prefer to ‘save’ her, right?”

“Yeah,” Futaba said, backing up behind Rin. “We’re not killing her, if that’s what you're asking, you psycho.”

“Please, I don’t want to fight you for this, senpai!” Sumire said.

“Step back, everyone,” Akira said.  Rin and Futaba obliged, but still stood a distance from Akechi.  Akira turned back and looked at Sumire.  “I don’t want to fight you either, Sumire.  But this is bigger than you or me, and you can’t lie to yourself about this.”

Akira could see the tears streaming down her face behind her black mask.  “I can’t stop myself, senpai… I can’t live as the person who killed my sister!”  She lunged at Akira with her rapier, but Akira spun and parried the thrust with his dagger.  Akira moved out of the way, and let Sumire’s momentum carry her past him, but she twisted with a gymnast’s skill and lunged back at him from behind, and Akira had to draw on the skills she had showed him to flip out of the way, her thrust coming so close that the point of her sword nicked the lapel of his coat.

“I’m not going to fight you, Sumire,” Akira said, cycling to a new Persona and turning to face her again. “But I know you can’t beat me, especially with all the grief you’re holding inside you.  There’s no way this ends well for you.”

Sumire gave an incoherent shout, and summoned her Persona, the woman made of blue glass with a beautiful white cape, Cendrillon.  Her Persona summoned several large swords over her head, and then hurled them at Akira.  Akira’s Persona appeared to intercept the attack; the towering form of the Heian-era samurai Yoshitsune.  He swatted the blades out of the air with his own sword, and countered with a slice straight through the form of Cendrillon, dissipating her instantly.  Akira grimaced; he hadn’t meant to fight back, but retaliating was something this Persona did best.

Sumire fell to her knees, gasping.  “Why?  Why can’t you let me go?  I can’t go back to that life…”

Akira was about to respond when he realized that Maruki had descended the staircase during the battle and now he was approaching Sumire.  “Yoshizawa-san, is this your dearest wish?  The dream you’d give anything for?”

Sumire turned and looked at him.  “Doctor, I…  I want…”

Maruki smiled at her: a strange distorted version of the smile he wore during the counseling sessions he had with Akira.  “I can lend you strength, give you some of my power.  If your dearest wish is to live your life as Kasumi…”

“Get away from her!” Rin shouted, stepping forward, almost past Akira.

“...I can actualize it!” Maruki continued, heedless of Rin’s objection.  As he said it, the room darkened and tentacles burst from the floor beneath Sumire and Maruki.  Akira and Rin leapt backwards to avoid them, as a set of three tentacles grasped Sumire and lifted her into the air, one each grabbing her wrists and the other coiled around her waist and legs as she went limp.  The tentacles’s dark surface was covered in faint blue lines, and the colors shifted and glimmered as they flexed and pulled Sumire’s arms to be straight out, such that she resembled the crucifixes that Akira had seen in the church in Kanda.

“What is that?” Akira asked, instinctually.

“It’s his Persona,” Rin said. “Or, part of it.  He’s hiding the golden body.”

Futaba was about to say something but it was drowned out by a gust of wind as the tentacles pulsed with energy and Sumire screamed, her mask exploding in blue flames.  As it did, Cendrillon reappeared in front of her, larger, shining with red light and screaming as violent energies spilled out of her.

“She’s too consumed by her pain to live the life she wants,” Maruki said, standing amid the writhing forest of tentacles. “This is the only way we can all achieve our dreams.”

“This is what he considers ‘kindness,’” Akechi sneered. “I’ve had it up to here with your endless babble about dreams and happiness.”

“He’s going to use her like a tool?” Futaba asked, partly stunned and partly appalled.

“Do we have to fight her?” Rin asked.

“We don’t have a choice, we need to get her away from Maruki,” Akira said, as he gestured to spread out and take up battle positions, as Futaba summoned Al Azif and floated up into it.  Akira felt his strength grow and as Futaba empowered them with a red-orange glow.  Two Shadows crawled out of the mass of squirming limbs that surrounded and protected Maruki: two Byakhee.   Immediately, Cendrillon turned and shoved one of her arms right through its yellow carapace and it went limp as she siphoned out its essence and healed herself.  The bug-like Shadow crumbled to dust as the berserk Cendrillon turned and blasted each of them with a bless spell.  Pillars of white light appeared on all three of them, knocking Akechi off his feet, but Rin’s second Persona helped her resist the attack, and the light bounced right off Yoshitsune.  Cendrillon followed up with summoning more swords to throw at Akechi, who had a hard time dodging it while laid out on the ground, and the blow knocked him unconscious.

“This is my time to shine, before the clock strikes twelve,” Cendrillon said, as she charged up her next strike.  Akira had never heard someone else’s Persona speak, it sounded remarkably like Sumire.

What a great turn of fate this battle was becoming.  Whatever Maruki had done with his Persona had made Cendrillon considerably more powerful.

“Crow’s down!” Futaba said. “Prepping a heal will take a moment…”

“Witch, can you get him up?” Akira asked, to which she shook her head, but she summoned Giordano and blasted the second Byakhee with a Freidyne spell, which gave Akira the chance to swap Personas.

“Sandalphon!” Akira shouted, summoned the golden, metallic angel.  “Samarecarm!” His Persona obliged, and spread its metallic wings as azure butterflies fluttered around Akechi’s body and glowing teal vines lifted him back onto his feet, fully healed.  Rin spared a brief stare at Sandalphon before he disappeared.  

“Thanks,” Akechi said, curtly.  He summoned the black-and-white striped form of Loki, and cast a debilitating spell on Cendrillon, who shrieked as the dark orbs circled her, then attached to her and drained her abilities.  Akira swapped his Persona over to Surt, the primordial fire giant, and his new Persona followed up with his own Swords Dance spell back at Cendrillon.  The swords bounced off her form, but left a crack in her waist.  The Byakhee turned to Cendillon at Maruki’s direction and pointed at her, empowering her with a Heat Riser.

“Oh come on!” Futaba said as the red, purple and green lights spun around Cendrillon, negating the Debilitate that Akechi had applied. “I’m working on some weaknesses, I’ll have a buff soon!”

“No!  I refuse to return to that life of cinders!” Cendrillon said, as if she was Sumire. “A princess deserves a life of success, of awards and peace of mind!”  As her glass form shivered and the crack spiderwebbed out, she turned and brought her razor-sharp heel down on the Byakhee, shattering its exoskeleton, and absorbing its life.  Akira watched as the crack healed itself, then Cendrillon spun like a ballerina, and cast a Vorpal Blade skill.  As glowing lines of light criss-crossed the air, Akira realized he was still using Surt, who was not nearly as tough.  As the pain flared across his body, Akira remembered how Cendrillon had charged before attacking, a fact he had forgotten as Akechi had gone down.

Shit.

Akira was knocked off his feet, and Akechi and Rin were blasted backwards, though both were still standing.  In the opening of pushing them away, Cendrillon rushed forward and repeated the attack, bringing Akechi to his knees.  Rin leapt to try and shield Akira, but one of the lines of light clipped her in the head, and she tumbled to the ground.  The red, berserk Persona wound up for a third use of the skill, when green light and hieroglyphs glowed on the ground, and a glowing green barrier formed around them, pushing Cendrillon back.  Futaba activated the Final Guard, protecting them, but they still were not in a good spot.  Akira struggled to his feet.  They were on the back foot, and they had no back-line to tag in and take over.  One more solid hit and they…

Maruki snapped his fingers and two more Byakhee crawled out of the mass of tentacles that still held Sumire, and they scrambled to flank Cendrillon.  Akira could only watch in stunned horror as the berserk Persona summoned another swarm of blades, and aimed them right at Akira.

It can’t end like this… was the only thought in Akira’s mind as the Sword Dance hurtled towards him.  He tried to move, but his body was too sore, too injured. In trying to shift his weight out of the way, he felt like his feet were glued to the floor.  Distantly, he heard Futaba shouting, talking about something… but she sounded so far away… 

“Not while I’m here!” came a voice Akira hadn’t expected.  It sounded like… Ryuji?  There was a flash of light, a metal ringing and clattering, and Akira opened his eyes to see Ryuji in front of him, having swatted the swords away with his mace.

“Skull, stop rushing in!” came a boyish voice from behind him.  Morgana? Akira turned to see the miniature cat-like form he had grown used to over the past year.

“We need everyone in fighting shape!” said an authoritative female voice.  Makoto?  “Mona, get on it!”

“Mediarahan!” shouted Morgana, as Mercurius appeared and healed Akira, Akechi and Rin along with all others present.

“My note worked!” Akira heard Futaba shout with glee. “They knew to come here!”

“You… all came…” Akira said, feeling slightly delirious as he got to his feet, and then helped Rin up.  Akechi had gotten up on his own.

“We’re sorry you had to wait as long as you did,” Yusuke said, hand resting on the hilt of his katana.  “But once we saw them, Oracle’s instructions and keywords for this Palace were most helpful.”  He spared a look at Rin, but Akira could tell he didn’t recognize her immediately.

“Is that…?” Akira heard Haru ask with a start, as she spotted Akechi.  Oh, right.  They were out of the loop.

“Akechi-kun… Dr. Maruki, Yoshizawa-san… And Rin-chan?!” Ann said, her eyes sweeping over the scene and growing wider with each person she saw.

They were very out of the loop.

“Rin…?” Yusuke asked, looking down at the girl a second time, finally seeing her behind the mask.

“It’s a story,” Rin said. “Might be a long one.”

“Might?” Yusuke repeated, incredulously.

Akira wondered why Cendrillon had stopped, but she was observing their conversation with an expression that mirrored Maruki’s shock at seeing all of them here.  He must have been controlling the berserk Cendrillon much more directly than it first seemed.

“All this shit makes no sense, but we can play catch-up later!” Ryuji shouted. “Joker, what’s the play?”

Akira couldn’t help but smile.  Even after that torturous week of watching them wander, lost and confused in Maruki’s world, they were still his teammates.  Nothing could break their bond.

“Okay, short version: Akechi and Rin are with us, the red figure is Yoshizawa’s Persona, but it’s being controlled by Dr. Maruki.  We need to get her out,” Akira said, spinning a plan up.  They didn’t need to defeat the empowered Cendrillon, they just needed to get Sumire away from Maruki. “Two teams.  Queen, take Skull, Panther and Witch and keep the Persona’s attention.  It can drain power from those two other Shadows, so be careful.”

“Got it,” Makoto said, before stumbling.  “Uh… ‘Witch’?”

“That’s me,” Rin said, stepping past Yusuke to join the three others.

“Good to see you again… Witch,” Yusuke said as she passed him.

“Likewise, Fox,” Rin responded with a small smile.  The four of them stepped up, and after some analysis from Futaba, Makoto unleashed a nuclear Mafreidyne spell with Anat.  That disrupted the two Byakhee and drew most of the attention to them.

“Crow, Fox, Mona and Noir, you’re with me,” Akira continued. “We’re going to cut Yoshizawa-san out of there.”

“Good thinking, Joker!” Morgana said.

“Oh, this should be satisfying,” Haru said, a hint of glee in her voice. “I’ve really wanted to hack something apart since I stepped in here.”  Akechi eyed her suspiciously, but they all listened as he explained the plan.

It has been so long since Rin felt right.  Since she felt complete.  But right here, right now, this feels right.   Swapping Personas, casting spells, kicking things, working with a team, it all feels so much easier than talking to someone, than trying to guess what they are feeling, or what she is feeling for that matter.  It feels like painting with no expectations.  She can feel the thrill in her heart, the rush of adrenaline, and she knows the truth.

Rin Tezuka loves being Witch.

Now she just needs to actually join the Phantom Thieves, and not just tag along.

She’s teamed up with Runner Boy, American Emi, and another girl, one who looks like Shizune if she had practiced Judo.  Skull, Panther, and Queen, Joker called them.  Well, good to meet the person who swiped ‘Skull’ as a codename from her.

Maruki is staring at them from the thicket of tentacles like he doesn’t understand why they all are here, and the Glass Woman is similarly not acting.  Witch’s new teammates take advantage of the pause to prepare: Panther summons her Persona with dog heads on chains, and lowers the Glass Woman’s power, while Queen takes the opportunity to blast the field with nuclear fire, which gives Witch the chance to swap over to Artemisia and use a Masukunda, lowering their agility and speed.

“Don’t worry, Queen, I’ll handle the defensive part,” Oracle says, as her triangular UFO spins, and a purple light surrounds the four of them.  Witch feels herself grow more resilient.

“Got it.  We need to keep their attention,” Queen says.  Skull nods and summons a man on a cloud, who raises a staff, bringing a cataclysmic rain of lightning down on the two Byakhee.   They jerk and spasm and he shouts to Panther, who pulls out her submachine gun and lets loose a hail of bullets on the enemies.  Between their decreased speed and the electricity still coursing through them, the gunfire reduces the two Byakhee to a dark sludge.

“Good move, Panther!” Queen shouts. “Witch, you’re up.” Witch thought that Joker was the leader, but Queen sounds like she might be the brains behind this whole thing.  She nods, launching herself at the slowly recovering Glass Woman with a flying kick, summoning Artemisia as she runs to help her.  They work together as they did against the Shadow of God, halberd and combat sandals striking together in a Cross Slash.  Witch quickly has to leap backwards, as the Glass Woman attempts to slice her apart with her sharpened leg.  

“You can’t stop this, you know,” she hears Maruki say, as he snaps his fingers and two more Byakhee emerge from the tentacles.  Are they coming from Maruki, or is he just transporting them from elsewhere?  No matter, the Glass Woman drains one of the new arrivals to heal herself, undoing their work.  Then she spins in place, her glass leg extending to swing at all four of them at once.  They can’t quite dodge, and the attack leaves its mark on each of them.

“Come ON!” Skull complains, then takes a swing with his studded iron club at one of the Byakhee.

“Stop whining, Skull,” Queen tells him, summoning her mechanized and red-faced Persona to heal the party. “Just keep them focused on us.”

It’s easy enough, all things told, especially since they now have enough people that they can keep their enemy off-balance and on the defensive, healing her wounds by consuming the lesser Shadows (that Maruki apparently has an inexhaustible supply of) instead of attacking.

“Joker’s team is almost in position,” Oracle says in Witch’s head. “But you need to flush Maruki out of those tentacles.”

“Understood, Oracle,” Queen says.  “Skull, Panther, Witch; target the whole field with your skills.”

They all nod acknowledgement, and bolts of lightning, boiling tides of lava and shockwaves of liquid darkness blast out at the Persona and into the tentacles.  Maruki is lifted out from between the limbs by a lone tentacle that hangs from above, a long and thin black rope that he grabs and pulls him backwards, away from their attacks.  Their combination attack also destroys the two summoned Shadows and weakens the Glass Woman.

“That’s it!” Oracle says. “It’s clear!  Move in!”

Noir rushes from their right side, swinging her double-bladed ax in large, horizontal motions, chopping one of the tentacles in half.  The severed limb disintegrates into black mist once separated from the dark puddle on the floor, and the claw-less stump retreats back into the floor.  Witch keeps her eyes on Maruki, and he looks a little annoyed, but not injured, as she expected.  His Persona is so much more powerful, he can just ignore whatever small part of it they cut off.

The tentacles not holding the red-headed girl aloft turn and focus on Noir, several of them sprouting razor-tipped fingers and swinging down at her.  She spins away with a ballerina’s grace, as two other figures rush forward, past Witch and the others.  Crow draws his wicked, serrated sword and swings it right at the largest tentacle, the one gripping the red-head by the legs and waist.  His strike isn’t strong enough, though and his blade is buried part-way through the tentacle.  Before anything else, the second figure emerges, as Fox draws his long katana from its red scabbard, slices at the tentacle from the opposite direction.  Together, their blades form a set of impromptu shears, and they push, tearing the tentacle apart.

Noir takes a swing at the tentacle holding the red-head’s left arm, but it rotates and wriggles in place to avoid her strikes.  “Mona!” she shouts, and holds her ax behind her, head touching the ground and blades horizontal.  The small cat-creature leaps onto the flat of the ax head, and the pink-clothed musketeer flings him up like a catapult, his arc taking him higher up on the tentacle and closer to the red-head’s wrist, where it has less room to maneuver.  The cat draws its oversized scimitar, and rolls, end over end like a buzzsaw, right through the tendril.  The red-head now hangs by only her right wrist, still unconscious.  Mona lands and leaps away from an attack by the Glass Woman.

Witch hears a metallic sound, as she looks up and sees the grappling hook Joker uses attach to one of the beams of the ceiling, as he swings in from one of the six pillars that hold up the room, right by where the red-head is dangling, drawing his dagger and slicing right through the last tentacle on the red-head.  

“No… the bells are tolling…” the Glass Woman says as she wavers and vanishes in a burst of blue flames.  Queen and Skull rush forward together to try and catch the falling girl as Joker lands in a three-point-stance.

But the girl isn’t falling.  All the tentacles have been severed, all but the single, long tendril protruding from the ceiling, the one that Maruki grabbed onto and pulled him back.  It has wrapped its way around her waist, dangling her like bait on a fishhook above the Thieves’ waiting arms.

“I’m not one to surrender my patients so eas-” Maruki begins, before a gunshot rings out, and the redhead shudders in the air.  Witch follows the sound of the second gunshot coming from above her, and sees its source: Oracle.  She’s hanging out of her triangle UFO Persona, upside down, her long orange hair dangling like a tassel, with her new spy pistol trained on the thin tentacle, unloading her shots at the last tether.  A second bullet hits home, and then a third, and the fourth severs the limb, dropping the red-head down into Queen and Skull’s waiting arms.  As she falls, her black gymnastic wear and long coat revert to the coat she wore while she was sitting down.

Witch was a little skeptical when Oracle explained Joker’s plan, but she has to admit, it worked out perfectly.

Maruki is staring at all of them, his expression locked somewhere between disbelief and disappointment.  “You all gave up your lives… you all threw away your happiness…”

“Okay, now is the time for answers!” Skull shouts, as he lifts the red-head in his arms. “You’re the doc from school, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Is this… his Shadow?” Panther asks, confused.

“He’s the one who’s responsible for everything,” Crow chimes in, his contempt apparent in his voice. “He’s taken this Palace from his Shadow, and he’s used it to generate that distorted reality outside.  He’s not confused, he knows exactly what he’s doing, isn’t that right, Maruki-san?”

“He took the Palace from his own Shadow?” Mona whispers to himself, seemingly in disbelief.

“I did all of this for your own sake,” Maruki replies. “For your joy.”

“For our joy?” Fox repeats.

“Exactly,” Maruki says, pointing at him. “I wanted to grant your wishes, to see all your dreams come true, even if they were impossible.”

“We never asked you to do anything like this!” Skull insists, but Witch already knows what he’ll reply with.

“Not out loud,” she interjects. “But he doesn’t care if we said it.  We just had to want it.”

“That’s…” Noir begins, but she stops herself.

“Insane,” Queen continues.  “Absurd.”

“You don’t get to invade our thoughts like that!” Oracle chimes in, touch down on the ground as her Persona reforms into her large goggles.

Maruki sighs, adjusting his glasses and brushing a bit of dust off his pure white suit.  “Regardless, all of you have chosen to deny the reality I created for you.  It seems we can’t come to an agreement on this matter.  If you all want to change my heart… Well, you have the right to try, but I still want to resolve this peacefully.  But I also can’t neglect my patients.”  He gestures to the unconscious red-head in Skull’s arms. “If you really want to fight more, we can… but I think you should take care of Yoshizawa-san first, since you all don’t trust me with her care.  Also, you all look like you could use a rest.”

Witch hears mumbling from the red-head as she returns to consciousness.  They all look down at her, and as they do, Maruki disappears in a flash of white and a snap of his fingers.

“We can still talk this out.  I believe we can come to an agreement on this,” his voice says, echoing through the loudspeakers in the room.  “I’ll hear your final answer on… February 3rd.  Setsubun.”

“Another deadline…” Oracles mumbles under her breath.

“If we haven’t reached an agreement by then, then violence will be our only option,” Maruki’s voice continues. “I want to avoid that if at all possible… but I’m not willing to give up on my dream of a perfect world, either. I swore I won’t let another year pass me by with my dream unfulfilled.”

Witch and the others glance at each other, confused on what exactly he means by that.

“He’s gone, I lost his signal,” Oracle says, closing the book on his speech.

“We couldn’t go after him even if we wanted to,” Fox says.

“Okay Joker, what the hell?” Skull bursts out, as he transfers the not-quite conscious red-head to Joker’s arms.  “First all this bullshit, then him… and her?” He gestures wildly, first to the entire large room, then to Crow, then lastly to Witch.

“There’s obviously quite a bit of catching-up we all have to do,” Crow says before Joker can. “But we should probably do it outside of the Palace.”

“For Yoshizawa-san’s sake, if nothing else,” Noir adds.

They all nod and begin to exit, Panther and Fox scouting ahead.  Rin stays behind for just a moment, staring up at the throne Maruki had stood beside.

You broke my life, right as I was starting to make it right, Rin thinks to herself.  I swear this to you, Doctor: I will change your heart.

Chapter Text

The paperweight didn’t even break when he hurled it across the room.

Takuto Maruki panted, trying to compose himself.  He was in the space that would be best described as his ‘office’ within the laboratory.  He’d stormed back into the metallic and pristine space after letting the Phantom Thieves go, but he had worked himself up on his walk back.  The space was private, with frosted glass walls and a view out over one of the patient processing areas.  The high, vaulted ceiling reminded him of a church, but with only plain metal arches, no religious frescos.  He quite liked his office, but he needed an outlet for his frustration, so when he saw the stupid phenology model paperweight made of porcelain on his wide stainless steel desk, he had thrown it across the room in a moment of frustration.  

He knew that phrenology –the study of the shape of the skull to determine a person’s intelligence and character- was long-debunked pseudoscience, but they’d spent a lesson on it and the dangerous and often racist assumptions that it had created and left behind when he was a psychology student in university.  He had always found the little maps of the human head with areas labeled with a nineteenth-century understanding of the mind oddly charming.  He knew it was wrong, but something about the earnest desire to study the mind that eventually led to modern psychology kept it in a soft spot in his heart.  Thus he hadn’t been at all surprised to find a small, decorative nod to it in the place that had been literally designed after his own heart and mind, nestled amid other tiny representations of his profession and interests.  

But coming back from that confrontation, and losing control of one of his first patients he had earnestly cured…   Well, Maruki was far from a violent man, but he felt the need to break something at that moment.  And doing so privately, where no one else would be intimidated by it, and doing it where the structure of the world repaired itself within hours, that was a perfectly healthy outlet to release stress.  

The fact that the porcelain knick-knack had failed to break was just another source of irritation.

Why didn’t they get it?  He had developed the framework for this world, and worked on it for them!  And now, weeks from the completion of his plan, they all decided they would rather have a world with pain than one without.  Logically, he knew they were most likely just scared of upending their lives, and of abandoning everything they thought to be true, but he still seethed with a potent mix of disappointment and frustration.  He’d shown them, shown all of them how wonderful this was.  He’d shown them all their lives with everything they had wanted, and each of them had even (subconsciously) surrendered to it.  He couldn’t actually seal their Personas without them wanting to forfeit their old lives, just a little bit.  Even if they had been exhausted after their battle with the God of Control and had all been looking for a silver lining.  They still wanted better, easier lives, and that subconscious consent was enough.

All of them accepted it… except Akira.  Now that tiny remainder in the equation threatened to unravel everything.  If he had just… forced him to accept-

No.  No, he couldn’t think about it that way.  They had to choose this world of their own free will.  He had to show them that it was a better way.  He would only resort to direct violence if they threatened him or his operation directly.  That was his line.

Maruki crossed the room and plucked the undamaged paperweight from the floor with one gloved hand, moving back towards his desk.  Anger was bleeding away into understanding as he threw himself into the high-backed white leather office chair at a slight slump.  They were only children after all, he reasoned, he was expecting too much of them.  They had each encountered hardships in their lives, but the oldest of them was a mere eighteen years old, not even a proper adult.  They were still bright-eyed and naïve to the reality they were now fighting for.  They earnestly thought they could make a difference in the old world.  None of them had been beaten down yet.  None of them had pleaded with their catatonic fiancé to please just say something …

Maruki shook his head to disperse the memory.  No, not now.  He had work to do.  He stared down at the phenology model, trying to puzzle out what to do about the Phantom Thieves, when a distorted voice called to him from the door.

“Lord Doctor?” a Shadow in a lab coat called out to him, making Maruki jolt and cringe.  He’d tried to steer the Shadows away from referring to him as ‘Lord’ or ‘Savior,’ but it was an ongoing process.  It might be better to just let them call him what they wished, if it made things run smoother.

“Yes, come in,” he said, straightening in his chair.  He fiddled with the paperweight in his off hand as the Shadows approached his desk.  It was one of the ‘researchers,’ its thin, inky-black body robed in a white dress shirt and lab coat, a black spiral mask over its face, with two eye holes in the mask at mismatched heights.  It held a clipboard folded in its arm and walked with a slight hunch.

“Forgive the intrusion, Lord Doctor,” it said. “There are some matters I was hoping you could clarify.”

Maruki studied the spiral mask.  He’d investigated the Shadows when he’d entered the Palace, studied what he could to see if they could be trusted, but they all seemed almost supernaturally resistant to investigation.  His research had eventually led him to the conclusion that the Shadows who were ‘working’ for him were eminently trustworthy, as they seemed almost semi-sentient, made of only pieces of consciousness. 

“I can, but I would like to ask you some things, if that’s okay,” Maruki responded, his curiosity piqued once again.  He needed to work the problem of the Phantom Thieves from another angle.  Maybe conversation would help, refresh him on the possibilities.

“But of course, my lord,” the Shadow replied with a slight bow.

“What’s your name?” Maruki asked.  So far, he had yet to receive a single name from a Shadow.  It often made sense when they manifested in the form he was looking at; they often contained several beings inside, but even the more powerful, singular Shadows that held key positions in the lab could not tell him their names.

“We cannot recall, Lord Doctor,” the Shadow said. “When we emerge from the Sea of Souls to serve, we leave behind much.”

“But not all,” Maruki countered. He’d heard that expression from other Shadows.  He had the impression that this ‘Sea of Souls’ was analogous to Jung’s collective unconscious, that it was where archetypes rested, unformed and undefined. Hell, he was speaking to one of his archetypes in something close to ‘the flesh.’  Jung probably would have killed for a chance like the one Maruki had now.  “Many remember their forms, or their appearances.  Most have a personality, and all remember their titles.  So, can you tell me who you were?”

The Shadow did not move for a moment.  Maruki had a brief impression that he was being stared down.  “We… I… existed as a deity, long ago.  In the western world, before it was the western world.”

“Where, exactly?” Maruki asked, suddenly very intrigued.  This was the most he had ever gotten.

“The land of the Nile delta,” the Shadow said.  “And in witch-cults across the cold northern reaches of Europe.  I was a banished Dravidian avatar in India, and I even held sway in the Americas, in New England.  I had too many names and titles, far too many.”

Maruki arched an eyebrow.  It was worshiped that widely?  Perhaps some kind of syncretic fusion of different religious practices produced such a being.  “And they all worshiped you?”

“Parts of me,” it replied. “I was many things to many people.  They called me the Skinless One, the Dweller in Darkness, the Bloated Woman, the Black Pharaoh, the Crawling Chaos, and a hundred other titles.  It is difficult to recall all that I was, for it has been so long.”

“I see,” Maruki said, taking it all in.  Those were certainly titles possessing no small amount of weight. “And do you believe what I’m doing is right?”

“We all believe you are the only one doing right,” the Shadow replied. “The intruders cannot see that the great work you are endeavoring to is the only path for humanity; all others are folly.”   It bowed again, deeper this time.  “I am honored to serve.”

Maruki replaced the paperweight on his desk and looked up at the Shadow.  There was something off about this Shadow… it seemed to have so much more personality…  Maruki blinked and pushed the thought from his mind.  There was business to conduct.

“Thank you for that, it's reassuring to hear that you all feel that I am on the right course,” Maruki said, straightening in his seat.  “Now, you mentioned business?”

“Yes, lord,” it said. “Security was given standing orders to… go easy on the intruders.  Forces were redirected from the entrance to allow easy access, as we understand it.”

“That’s true,” Maruki said.  There was a whole host of Shadows ready to secure the lab, but he’d wanted to speak with Kurusu-kun, so he’d given orders that the most powerful Shadows stay out of the Thieves' path.

“Are these orders to remain?” the Shadow asked.

Maruki sighed and contemplated a moment.  “No… have patrols resume in full force.  I don’t want to fight them, but if they choose to attempt another infiltration… well that’s another matter.”

“Perhaps our security forces should be reinforced?” the Shadow offered, raising one of its oddly malformed hands.

Maruki took a moment to process that suggestion, before realizing he understood the meaning, if not the method of it. “I must confess, security is just more Shadows, like you.  They were already all present when I arrived.  I don’t know of any way of acquiring new forces.  What might be done?”

“My lord may construct such forces with the power of the soul, but your effort would best be directed towards the completion of the Great Work.  There is an alternative, however,”   the Shadow said, its distorted voice growing a hint of enthusiasm.  “ There are those beings in the Sea of Souls and beyond who may attend if called by their kin.  Your cause is noble and just, and my kin would aid you if you allowed me to call out to them, if I may be so bold.”

Maruki had a terrible flash of memory, of reading Doctor Faustus in a college literature course, of striking a deal with a crossroads devil, but he pushed it aside.  This creature was no Mephistopholis, it was a mere fragment of a forgotten myth.  There was no danger, or at least, no danger that he and Azathoth couldn’t handle.  He’d spent quite a bit of time with the Shadows in his employ and they were all completely loyal.  He had nothing to fear.

“Very well,” he said.  “If you can add to our forces, then I grant my permission for you to recruit your kindred.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the Shadow said, bowing deeply.  “I will see to it at once.  The security of this project is paramount, after all.”

Maruki leaned back in his chair as the Shadow turned and left his office.  He allowed himself a small smile.  It seemed that even the universe itself wanted him to succeed in this endeavor, like the world was yearning for salvation. A lost god was summoning new allies, and had shown him that the very fabric of the collective unconscious was rallying behind him.

It was meant to be.

Just outside the door of Maruki’s office, the thing that is neither Shadow nor human would smile to itself, if he possessed a mouth.

Humans are so, so predictable.  A little flattery, a little encouragement, a little mystery, and they throw all caution to the wind.  Putting on the skin of a Shadow was all it took for the doctor to trust him, and now with his consent given in his own Palace, the doors are open.  His kindred from beyond the stars can now find their way into the Metaverse.  The King from Carcosa already brought two of them to their knees, the rest will surely prove a larger challenge for the Persona users who oppose the doctor than the Shadows that had gathered so far.  

This is all he dares to do, though.  Any more and he risks exposing himself directly to the opposition.  They may have power over him, but now that the doctor has accepted his help, Igor and his ilk can do nothing about the rest that will follow, and these new ‘heroes’ are nothing like the ones who banded together against him, years ago.  They are mismatched, fractured, and weak.  

Nyarlathotep grins as he exits the Metaverse and resumes his unassuming human form.  Nothing can stop the return of the Old Gods now.  His bet with Philemon is all but won.  They may have banished him, but he only needed to wait, wait until the time was right.  When the stars aligned and let the smallest part of him back into the world.  He thinks back, and a passage comes to mind; one from the writer whose dreams haunted almost a century ago:

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons, even death may die.”

The blur of reality resolved, and Yusuke stood amid the rest of the Phantom Thieves, just outside the fence at the construction site in Odaiba.  None of the other residents of the island seemed to notice them appearing in the street, just the way they all ignored the shimmering, translucent and phasing tower rooted within the construction site.  Akira had shifted to carrying the Yoshizawa girl on his back, looping her arms around his neck and carrying her by the legs, ‘piggy-back’ style.  Rin stood nearby, looked around while they all looked at each other, unsure of how to proceed.

“I feel like I’m still partially in shock,” Yusuke volunteered, retrieving his phone and examining the new, pearlescent Metaverse Navigator app.  “The Metaverse app is back on our phones and a Palace is visible in the real world…”

“This makes it feel like reality is…” Ann paused, searching for the right word. “Broken?  It feels really wrong.”

“How much do you know about all this, Akira?” Morgana asked from the ground, his form once again that of a black housecat.

Akira sighed and gave what was clearly a hyper-condensed run-down of what he knew: Maruki’s Persona and Palace combining to create the reality they were in, how he had altered Yoshizawa-san’s self-perception as a trial run for this process, even trying to do the same to Rin.  Yusuke glanced over at Rin, but found her with her gaze locked down at Morgana, her stare intense but her face blank.

“So… Doctor Maruki’s behind all of this,” Ann said, tugging at the red scarf around her neck.

“Makin’ dreams come true,” Ryuji scoffed as he jiggled his leg nervously.

“He really altered reality… for us?” Haru asked, looking away from the group.

“It’s not too hard to understand…” Makoto volunteered. “But at the same time, it’s almost incomprehensible.”

“If I might interrupt,” began a dry voice from behind Yusuke.  The whole group turned to see Goro Akechi approaching them.  Yusuke noticed Haru visibly stiffen, though they all jumped a little when they realized he was still there.  “You might want to have this discussion somewhere more private than Maruki’s front doorstep.”

“Right — can’t believe I almost forgot about you,” Ryuji said, taking a step back.

“Calm yourself, Sakamoto,” Akechi responded dismissively. “If my intention was to kill any of you, you’d already be dead.”

“Still putting all that talk-show charm to good use, I see,” Ann bit out. The sarcasm in her voice felt almost acidic.

“He’s…” Akira said, trying to shift Yoshizawa’s weight around without her toppling off him. “He’s an ally, for now.  He wants what we want.”

“Oh, so he wants to go back to prison?” Haru asked, her voice like sharp ice.

“As a matter of fact, Okumura-san,” Akechi said, the sardonic edge fading from his voice. “I am looking for a more just world, but I can see you all need time to discuss this.  Kurusu, Sakura, Tezuka and I all had the same goal, so we worked together while you were all incapacitated.  The situation was thoroughly explained to us, backwards and forwards, and I know what I want to do.  Maruki is a threat unlike anything you’ve faced before, and I might be able to lend you the help you need, since our goals are aligned.” Akechi looked over to the rest of the group, his hand raised, as if literally presenting them with something. “I’m curious what you all have to say about my offer.”

They were all silent for a second as they processed his words.  It was true, they were all a bit lost still, but Akechi was extremely powerful, and they’d be remiss to not consider his offer, regardless of their personal feelings.  Even Haru and Futaba seemed to be considering it.  Yusuke still had other questions beyond that, like how Rin had been drawn into this.

Yoshizawa stirred and mumbled on Akira’s back, and he turned to address her briefly.  Akechi’s posture shifted as the focus was taken away from him.  “I have to go.  I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he said, before turning on his heel and walking away from the group.  Ryuji shouted after him, but he refused to stop.

“Yoshizawa-san, how are you feeling?” Morgana asked, sitting down to look up at her.

“I’m… uh…” she responded, squirming a bit on Akira’s back. “Um… you can let me down now, senpai,” she said, and Akira obliged.  She stepped away, brushed the wrinkles out of her bright red coat and turned to address the Thieves.  “I’m so sorry that I caused so much trouble for you all,” she said, arms held stiffly at her sides. “Especially, you,” she turned to Rin.  “I’m sorry, you were just trying to help, and I was so rude.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rin responded, shrugging. “I’m pretty rude.  Besides, you didn’t cause me any trouble, I went there to see Maruki.”

“How did you get a Persona, Rin?” Ann asked, unable to restrain herself, and beating Yusuke to the question.  “Did Doctor Maruki give it to you, or what about- do you even know about your Palace, or-”

“I do want to explain,” Rin began. “Or maybe I will explain whether or not I want to, but I do want to wait, because I’m really, really tired.  So tired that I’m pretty sure I hallucinated that this cat-like thing was talking to us.”  She was still staring down at Morgana.

Morgana hissed instinctually. “I’m not a — you know what, never mind.”  Yusuke couldn’t help but smile at that one.

“I think we could all use a break after learning all this,” Makoto said. “We should meet up tomorrow and discuss our plans.”

“Tomorrow - Oh!” Ryuji said. “School starts again tomorrow.  I guess we can meet up at Leblanc afterwards.”

“Doctor Maruki said he’d enact his ‘plan’ by Setsubun, which is February 3rd,” Haru reminded them.  “We have time to think this over.”

They all moved to the train station to return from Odaiba, with most of the group splitting off.  Ryuji, Ann, Haru and Makoto took a different line to handle errands before the end of the day, leaving Yusuke, Akira, Yoshizawa, Rin, and Futaba as well as Morgana in Akira’s bag.  Futaba was watching a video on her phone, with Rin leaning over to observe, and Akira occupied himself with one of his many books.  Yusuke busied himself with observation of the two faces new to Phantom Thievery: Rin and Yoshizawa.  Rin seemed calmer, more collected than the last time he’d spoken with her, but that time on the very early morning of Christmas Day felt like it was years ago.  Yoshizawa seemed hesitant to meet anyone’s gaze, but as they all left the train to change lines at Shibuya she tugged at Akira’s sleeve and whispered something to him.  Akira leaned over, listened and nodded, then motioned to Yusuke, who spoke away from the girls.

“Sumire’s not feeling great,” Akira confided. “She wants a hand getting home, and to speak privately.  Can you get Futaba and Rin back to Yongen?”

Assuredly they could manage it on their own, but with all that had happened today, Yusuke understood Akira’s caution. “Certainly,” he replied and Akira nodded his thanks, walking away with Yoshizawa gripping his arm.

Yusuke guided both of them to the colored line that led to the correct train platform as Futaba scoffed: “I know how to navigate the subway, Inari.  Jeez.”

“Oh?” he said. “Then what’s the name of the line that leads to Yongen-Jaya from here?”

“Pffft,” Futaba blew out a raspberry. “I don’t know the names of anything, but I have a phone.”

“Exactly,” Yusuke said, feeling his point was proven.

“I remember them by color,” Rin added.

The train arrived exactly on schedule (if nothing else, the trains ran on time under Maruki’s rule) and they boarded.  As they found three conveniently open seats, Yusuke looked down at Rin to his left, and could not hold back the repeated question any longer: “When did you get a Persona, Rin?”

“Wow, I thought you’d wait longer,” she said, a small grin on her face. “It was on Christmas, when everything turned red.”

“But, if you-”

“I’ve explained what happened to Joker once, and it was really hard,” she began, cutting him off.  “I said I wanted to explain to everyone tomorrow, so if I tell you now, that would make me a liar.”

Yusuke smiled at that Rin-ism.  It was like she never left.  The train arrived, and he saw them back to Leblanc right as the sun was setting.  He bade farewell to Sojiro after a cup of coffee (on the house, thankfully) and caught the next extremely punctual train to Kosei High School.  Only upon walking down the dorm corridor did he realize he was moving on instinct, and then further realized two other things: He was no longer living with Madarame again, as he had been that morning, and Rin’s room was still unoccupied.  He’d left her at Leblanc without even asking.  He shrugged, as the challenge of where to scrounge for dinner replaced all other concerns in his mind.

Akira’s eyes opened slowly, as the slow, echoing drip of water reminded him where he was… which was not Leblanc’s attic.  In the real world he was still asleep, but here he was dressed in a black-and-white striped prisoner’s garb, with a weight still firmly secured around his ankle, and shackles on each wrist.  The walls of his cell were padded blue velvet, with a pale light filtering in through the bars.

He’d never been so glad to find himself in prison.  The soft piano and wordless singing filtered faintly into his cell as he sat up from his cot in the Velvet Room.

“It has been some time,” said a young female voice outside his cell.  He sat up and twisted to see the diminutive Lavenza standing just on the other side of the bars.  Her long, platinum hair was flawless.  Her bright yellow eyes had always unnerved him when Justine and Caroline had possessed them, but they seemed gentler and more welcoming on her.  Behind her, at the writing desk in the center of the prison, sat Igor: his fingers laced, his eyes even more bloodshot than usual and his expression still an impossibly cryptic grin.

“But we have finally been able to reach you,” Lavenza continued as Akira stood and pulled himself to the cell door.  His hands found the bars, and he leaned as far out of the cell as he could.  His head wasn’t quite slim enough to fit through, so his face rested squarely in the door.

“Some metaphysical problems with this new world?” Akira asked, trying to hazard the reason for the dreamless nights.

“Indeed,” Igor murmured. “Both myself and young Lavenza have been considerably weakened by the ordeal with the God of Control, and this new reality is particularly onerous for us.”

“Is that why I’m back in these clothes?” Akira asked, rattling the chains on his wrists. “And why the cell’s closed again?”

“Yes and no,” Igor replied, shaking his head. “The shape of this room reflects the state of your heart.  The God of Control told you many lies, but in this he was honest.”

“So… Is it because I feel imprisoned again?” Akira said.

“It is more than how you feel, your imprisonment within the illusion is a fact,” Lavanza said. “But the bonds you forged and have rekindled with your allies allowed all of you to regain a portion of your own realities.  This is the first step in regaining your potential.”

“So… if you couldn’t reach me,” Akira said, recalling his conversation with Rin and being unable to stop himself from asking. “Then how could you reach Rin?”

Igor chuckled. “We did not reach the soul you refer to.  The Velvet Room was able to connect with her with the aid of our allies: those who have held a station in this place in the past.  A human, an artist who once resided here, was able to connect with her and help to free her.”

“So there’s other… ‘beings’ who help you?”

Lavenza smiled. “Indeed.  My position has been held by my siblings in the past.  They have other duties to attend to, but in the current state of reality, all have been called to aid.”

Akira’s mind was exploding with questions: a human who used to work in the Velvet Room?  Siblings of Lavenza?  He was about to voice them, when the distant bell began to ring, signaling an end to the dream.

“It seems our time is up,” Igor said as Lavenza stepped away from his cell door, and his vision began to fade.

“Wait,” Akira half-shouted, his own voice faint in his ears. “What do I do now?”

“We merely aid humans in their own struggles, you must choose what to do going forward,” Lavenza said, barely audible. “But keep the flame of rebellion burning in your heart, and we will find you again.”

Akira’s senses all swam at once, as the ringing bell of the Velvet Room blended into the alarm of his phone telling him to wake up.  He silenced his phone and gently rolled Morgana off his chest as he sat up.  Sleep had been instantaneous after the previous day, and he wanted to get started; there was a lot to do.  Rin was still wrapped in a blanket on the couch in his room.  He sighed; she hadn’t been too helpful in letting him know what her plans were, saying she’d have to think about it.  Akira slipped downstairs and began his pot of morning coffee.

He was dressed and preparing to head out, Morgana sequestered in his school bag, when Sojiro walked in, Futaba trailing behind.

“You’re up early,” Akira commented, putting on his winter coat and scarf as Sojiro moved to the fridge to begin the day’s curry for the regulars.

“Well, I’ve got to help our guest,” Futaba said, sounding surprisingly alert and awake. “Rin asked for help last night, and who am I to deny a fellow weird girl her request for showering stuff, dressing stuff and other stuff?”

Akira smirked, slightly bewildered as he shouldered the bag with Morgana in it.  “Really, Futaba?  You helping someone with their routine self-care after spending a year alone in your room?”

Futaba took the barb in stride, smiling. “Hey, who knows the importance of self-care better than a reformed shut-in?”  

“‘Reformed’ is a really strong word,” Morgana commented, poking his head out from under Akira’s arm.  

Akira smiled as Futaba leaned over and pinched Morgana’s cheeks in the way he hated. “Quiet, kitty.”

Akira caught the train to Shujin, and was trying to decipher what the haze of vaguely-positive babble around the school meant, but was stopped by Sumire. Her red hair was no longer in Kasumi’s ponytail, and her glasses were now finally back in place.  She looked embarrassed, hiding her chin and mouth in the red wool scarf she wore over the Shujin winter coat.

“Oh… hello, Kurusu-senpai,” she murmured.  Morgana poked his head out. “And Morgana-senpai.”

“How are you feeling?” Morgana asked.

“About the same,” she said.  Their chat at her house hadn’t been productive, and she’d been asked to be left alone almost as soon as they had arrived.  “I’m sorry about… Attacking you yesterday.  I… I don’t think I can ever apologize enough…”

“It’s okay, Sumire,” Akira said. “I understand what you were going through… or I feel like I do.  Do you want to talk more today?”

“No… not right now, at least,” she said.  “I’m still all mixed up and confused…. I need some time to sort out how to feel about all this… Doctor Maruki, what he did… and my sister…”

“That’s more than fair,” Akira said, trying his best not to rush her.  She could be an asset to the team, but unlike Maruki he wouldn’t force her into anything.  They walked inside together, the only two not smiling in the whole crowd of students.

The school day passed in a haze. Kawakami was still his homeroom teacher, and was still the same as she had been before the new year, and that was extra strange.  Knowing what he knew about her life, Akira would have guessed that she would have changed significantly in Maruki’s world, but she seemed both unaffected and unaware of the change.  Akira decided not to push it; he was already struggling to grasp the logistics of how Maruki’s world worked with his friends, no need to add his teacher/maid’s life to that.

The Phantom Thieves group chat buzzed throughout the day.

Fox: Has everyone recovered from yesterday?

Panther: Kind of.  I certainly passed out soundly from the strain of trying to figure this all out last night.

Skull: I get that.

Noir: Agreed.

Noir: But I think I’m in a good enough place now to hear everyone else’s thoughts on how to proceed.

Joker: I agree.  We’ll meet up at Leblanc after school, we have a lot to talk about.

Queen: It’s settled then.

Skull: Gotcha.

Fox: By the way, Futaba seems unusually quiet in this chatroom today.

Oracle: thanks for the direct call out inari

Oracle: im out and about rn if you MUST know

Joker: By yourself?

Oracle: no im with rin

Oracle: she wanted to get some stuff and needed a set of hands

Oracle: (´꒳`)

Oracle: We’ll be back before you get out of school, no worries.

Joker: See you all then.

Akira pocketed his phone and let the rest of the school day wash over him.

Back at Leblanc, Akira was finishing a pot of coffee as Yusuke opened the front door, the last of the Thieves to arrive.  They were scattered around the café, Futaba tapping away at her laptop, Makoto reviewing notes, Ryuji reading manga, Ann on her phone, Haru savoring her first cup of coffee as Morgana enjoyed his tuna.  Rin sat at a barstool, her first iced latté already drained.

“I apologize,” Yusuke said as he entered, Akira noticed that he held the door open with his foot to carry a large, unwieldy package wrapped in brown paper. “I was able to convince Aisaka-sensei to part with these, as they are still… ‘unclaimed.’”  He untied it and retrieved one of the canvases inside.  It was a painting, one of a boy with a bleeding scar on his chest.

“Thank you, Yusuke,” Rin said as she looked down into the package to check the other paintings.

“So, these are your paintings, Rin-chan?” Haru asked, inspecting one of a black, swirling vortex. “They’re delightful.”

“But why are they… you know what?  I think it’s time we hear this story, from top to bottom,” Ann said, setting her phone down.

“Yeah, I’ve been itchin’ to hear all about this,” Ryuji added.

Rin returned to her counter seat, and cast a sidelong glance at Akira, as if asking for backup.  Akira nodded, and they began to explain.

Rin told them everything.  She meandered and wandered on tangents Akira could barely follow, but they were able to keep her on track.  She told them about her struggles, her dreams, her therapy session with Maruki, and how her Shadow had confronted her on New Year’s Eve.

“She said it was because of what all you said,” Rin explained. “That she wanted to help me, and you had spoken with her?”

“Uh… I guess,” Ann said. “We just sort of poked around inside your Palace, looking for a way to help you.  But I guess we convinced your Shadow to help?”

“It’s not too dissimilar to Futaba’s Shadow, come to think of it,” Makoto mused.

“So, she confronted her Shadow like Futaba when the fusion happened…” Morgana said to himself.  “I guess that makes sense.  Palaces were supposed to be separate from the broader Metaverse, that’s what those Shadows in the depths said, but if a Shadow was working to dismantle their own Palace, then… hrm.”

Rin continued with her story of awakening her Persona, who she called Artemisia.  She had fought the Shadows roaming the streets, trying to save people. 

“So while we were fighting the Grail, you were below, protectin’ people?” Ryuji asked.

“Yes, but it was hard,” Rin said. “There were so many powerful monsters.  But I wasn’t alone.  Doctor Maruki saved me.”

They all paused, something like a small gasp rippling through the group.

“Doc had a Persona then, too?” Ryuji asked.

Rin nodded as she idly tapped her foot against the stool.  “He said he had it a while ago, but didn’t know what it was until the world turned red.”

“That’s…” Morgana considered. “I don’t know what that might be.” Morgana’s knowledge of the Metaverse was considerable, but it seemed to have reached its limits.

“So, Doctor Maruki aided you,” Haru said. “I’m guessing that his involvement in this story leads to our current circumstances.”

“Yes,” Rin said. “He admitted what he tried to do to me, to change my memories to make me happy.  He said he was sorry, but he lied.  I should have known better.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Akira said. “He did the same thing to Sumire.”

“Oh right, that first-year gymnast girl,” Ryuji said. “So… she’s not called Kasumi?”

“No,” Akira explained. “Her sister was killed in an accident last Spring.  She was so depressed that she went to see Maruki… and from there, he somehow took her survivor’s guilt and made it real to her: he made her think that she was her sister to suppress her pain.”

“That’s so messed up…” Ann said.

“That would explain quite a few things I heard the teachers saying about her,” Makoto said, hand on her chin.

“He told me he wanted to fix the world, but he just wanted to do this,” Rin continued. “So I helped him get to the bottom of the subway, and held off a bunch of Shadows to do it.  Then, when the world returned to normal, I tried to talk to Yusuke, but was just too tired.”

Yusuke chuckled. “When you said you had figured out we were the Phantom Thieves, I never imagined the journey you had been on that night.”

“I think it’s amazing, personally,” Ann said.  “You found yourself, and even managed to save people all on your own.”

“It is pretty cool, Rin,” Futaba said.

“But, what happened after that?” Morgana asked. “Why didn’t you talk to Yusuke the next day?”

“When I woke up on Christmas, I was a student of Yamaku, in Sendai,” she said.

“Yamaku’s the school she went to before Kosei,” Yusuke elaborated.

“Right, the one for disabled students,” Futaba said.

Rin closed her eyes and hummed for a moment in agreement.  They were all puzzled, but when she opened them again she continued: “I was a student again, because that’s what I wanted, or what I thought I wanted.  It’s bigger and stranger and more complicated than that.  Like a cloud or a constellation.  I… He…”  Rin sputtered and stopped, unable to articulate what she wanted to say. 

“Something similar happened to each of us, Rin-chan,” Haru said, leaning over and placing hand on her shoulder.  “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

Rin looked at her, nodded, and shook her shoulder slightly, to which Haru responded by gently removing her hand. “Yes.  But I was able to break out and come down here.  But… Someone still wants me there, so I think that’s why I’m still a student there and not at Kosei.”

“And thus these paintings were somehow lost in the shuffle of reality-alteration,” Yusuke said, gesturing a hand at the stack of canvases.

Rin closed her eyes and sighed, gathering herself. “I want to join the Phantom Thieves and help you take him down.”

The request was expected in its existence, but not its timing.  The other Thieves looked between each other, as Rin had vaulted past the question each of them hesitated to ask.

“You already are a Phantom Thief, Witch,” Futaba said. “You got a codename and everything.”

“But as for taking out Maruki…” Ann said, mulling the idea over. “It’s not something the Phantom Thieves normally deal with.  I mean, true, he’s an adult with warped desires… but that desire is right… right?”

“His desire may be justified,” Futaba said. “But what he’s willing to do for it isn’t.”

“The Phantom Thieves reform the hearts of evildoers,” Haru said. “I don’t think Doctor Maruki is evil, but still.”

“But what he’s doing is wrong,” Rin said, looking at each of the members of the Thieves. “All my life adults have told me what I can’t do, what I should dream about, what’s best for me.  They all wanted to make me happy.  So what if Maruki just wants happiness?  That doesn’t make him not just like all the rest.”

She’s been mistreated, just like us, Akira quietly thought to himself as he circled the edge of the counter, to stand in front of it with the rest of the team. And she deserves to be a Phantom Thief just as much as any of us.

“She’s right,” Ryuji said. “He didn’t ask us.  Only we can decide what’s right for us; that’s what we all agreed on when we chased after Akira and Futaba.  If takin’ out Doc’s Palace like all the rest is what fixes the world, then I’m gonna do it.”

Silence hung in the air after Ryuji spoke for a moment as they processed his words.  After a few seconds, Ryuji looked around a bit nervously, worried he might have said something off, but he saw Rin giving him her small smile, and it calmed him.

“You’re absolutely right for once, Ryuji,” Makoto said. “Each of the other Palace rulers we targeted believed their behavior was… if not right then at least justified.  Doctor Maruki is no exception.”

“We’re going to change one more heart, not to reform society and expose corruption, but to save the world we believe in,” Yusuke said.  They all nodded, settling on a course of action.

“It’s unanimous then,” Ann said.

“Okay.  That makes our next step pretty clear, then,” Morgana said.

“We head back to Maruki’s Palace to begin our infiltration in earnest,” Akira said, leaning back on the counter.

“He did mention how he’d be ready for us,” Makoto cautioned.  “He doesn’t want to fight us, but he’s also willing to fight to protect his plan.”

“And his Persona was extremely powerful,” Rin added. “Even before all this, when he fought, it was way stronger than mine.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji said. “All that reality-warping stuff… How's he even doing that?  From Rin’s story, I guess it has something to do with Mementos.”

“It has to be that,” Futaba said, nervously tapping her fingers very quickly on the booth tabletop. “He’s one of the top cognitive psience experts, so he must have figured something out that lets him use the Prison of Regression… but what is that?”

“I think we need better intel before we go any further in this plan,” Morgana said, scratching behind one ear with his leg.

Akira felt his pocket vibrate before he heard his phone ring.  He pulled it out as everyone looked at him.  The caller ID was… nothing.  Not an unknown number, but a jumbled mess of unreadable glyphs.  He looked at the rest of the group, but they were each just as baffled when he turned the phone screen for them to see.  Shrugging, he tentatively answered the call.  “Um… Hello?”

“Good day,” replied a voice Akira had only heard in his dreams and during the end of the world. “This is Lavenza speaking.”

Akira was so flummoxed by the odd timing of the call he defaulted to his first instinct of staggered disbelief. “Uh, come again?” Her voice was so loud in the quiet café, that each of the Phantom Thieves could hear her, as was clear from the way they leaned forward ever so slightly to listen.

“Very well, let me repeat myself,” Lavenza replied, her voice calm and even with an absence of any sarcasm or irony. “Good day, this is Lavenza speaking.”

“Lady Lavenza?” Morgana said in disbelief.

“Your will of rebellion has reached new heights,” her voice continued in her usually cryptic way. “We of the Velvet Room would aid you in this, if you find it agreeable.” Akira noticed Rin perk up at the mention of the Velvet Room.

“That would be…” Akira began, trying his best to treat this like any other phone conversation. “That would be nice.  We would like that.”

“Wait a second,” Ryuji said. “How the eff is she even callin’ you?”

“And how’d she know about the ‘heights of our rebellion’?” Futaba added. “Did she bug your line or something?”

Akira was about to mouth ‘like you did?’ to Futaba when Lavanza responded. “I have performed no kind of electronic surveillance, as none is necessary.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the Thieves, as Futaba winced slightly. “Apparently she can hear you, regardless of how she called him.” Yusuke said.

“Weird,” Rin added.

“There are things we wish to impart about your circumstances,” Lavenza continued. “However, the recent battle has put an exceptional strain on both my master and myself, and the nature of this reality makes our existence difficult.  Even this method of communication is strenuous.  To that end, we would like to arrange a meeting with one of my siblings, tomorrow.”

Each of the Thieves looked at eachother again at the mention of ‘siblings,’ but Rin spoke up.  “Margaret?” she asked.

“No, Margaret is currently working on this issue from another angle,” Lavenza’s voice responded.  “I have another sister who is better equipped to deal with the human world.  She will meet with all of you where you are right now, after your school day is over tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Akira said, suddenly aware of the strain he could hear under Lavenza’s voice.  Something about the way Maruki had constructed this reality seemed antithetical to the way the Velvet Room existed.  Even a phone call, which Caroline and Justine had managed frequently and with little issue, was difficult for her.  “We’ll look forward to it.”

“Thank you,” Lavenza replied. “Until we meet again.” The call disconnected.

“Lady Lavenza has siblings?” Morgana shouted before Akira could even put his phone away.

“And you’ve met one?” Ann added, not quite as hysterically as Morgana, but still alarmed.

“She helped me out in the Velvet Room,” Rin said, as if it was the most normal thing. “She got me out, helped me break the fog.”

“What is this ‘Margaret’ like?” Haru asked, intrigued.

“Tall, pale, yellow eyes,” Rin rattled off. “Very blue clothes.  Dressed like a secretary.  Had a book.”

“That’s pretty close to what I remember of Lavenza-san,” Makoto mused. “Minus the ‘tall’ part.  Must be an older sister.”

“And some blue magic lady is just gonna wander in here?” Ryuji asked, incredulous.

“I guess,” Akira shrugged. “I’d just go with it, if I were you.” He’d learned to just accept the Velvet Room and its odd twists and turns over the last year.

“I’d classify this as progress,” Yusuke said. “We’ve earned the aid of the prestigious Velvet Room.”

“All that’s left,” Morgana said, cutting off whatever else Yusuke might have said. “Is to determine if we let Akechi help us.”

The positive mood that was developing quickly turned sour.  It was certainly no small question.

“Considering his actions up to this point:” Makoto said, beginning a breakdown of their erstwhile teammate. “Aiding Akira and turning himself in to the authorities, only to be released by the status quo of Maruki’s world, it really does seem that we share a common goal with him.  But still…” She slid a glance at Haru, who was staring down into her now-cold coffee.

“I think it’s the best thing to do at this point,” Futaba said, playing with her hands and stimming unconsciously.

“I agree,” Haru said, her voice careful and measured.

“Are you sure?” Morgana asked them, his voice cautious without being dismissive or doubting.

Akira could see Rin looking at Futaba and Haru in turn.  She’d never been told what it was that had caused all this bad blood between Akechi and those two, but Akira suspected she might be able to put the pieces together.

“Maruki can rewrite reality,” Futaba explained. “He’s strong on a level we’ve never seen before; like way, way up there in levels.  But Akechi’s also crazy strong, or he was in Shido’s Palace.  It took all of us teaming up to stop him.  If he wants to help us, it’s irresponsible to turn down that aid.”

“Plus, I also don’t trust him operating independently,” Haru said. “If he’s going to do something, I want to be able to keep a close eye on him.  If he intends to betray us again, we’ll be ready to end him.”

‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer’, Akira thought.

“That settles that, then,” Ryuji said.

“I still have Akechi’s contact info,” Futaba said. “I’ll rope him in on this.”

“Thanks, Futaba,” Ann said. “We should probably break for the day.”

“That’s wise,” Makoto said as she slid out of the booth and folded up her school textbook. “I still have a lot of homework to work through.”

The Thieves made their way out of the café, which eventually left just Akira, Futaba, Morgana and Rin.

“Still not a spot for you at Kosei, huh?” Akira asked as Rin pushed the few out-of-place counter seats back into place.

Rin shook her head, making her hair flutter. “My ID is still Yamaku.”

“Well, you’re welcome on the couch for as long as it takes to resolve all this,” Akira said, drying his hands on his apron after washing the cups and dishes from their meeting.

“Thank you,” Rin said, nodding and glancing over at Futaba, who was packing up her laptop.

“Yeah, about that Akira,” Futaba said. “Letting someone stay on the couch is super noble and all, but we can do better as the extremely wealthy Phantom Thieves.”

“We’re not that wealthy, Futaba,” Akira countered. “That payday from defeating the Reaper isn’t going to last forever.”

“I know,” Futaba said, making full eye contact with Akira.  “Which is why I dipped into my own private funds when I decided to upgrade the attic.”

”You what?” Morgana asked from the counter.

Akira completely missed the comment about her own funds, as it was eclipsed by the mischievous undercurrent of her words about upgrading what was arguably his room.  Without another word he climbed the stairs to the attic.

It wasn’t as drastic a transformation as he had feared.  The thing that caught his eye was the new couch.  Gone was the bare-bones and sparse near-bench; now there was a simple, plush couch.  It had an entire bed frame beneath it, where one could transform it from couch to simple bed with ease.  But the next thing that caught his eye was the space adjacent to the stairs.  The space heater had been moved, and the tarp that all the trash and clutter had been stored atop when he had first arrived last March was returned.  Set on it was a stool and an easel with a canvas, with part of a painting begun on it: dark reds and icy blues competing for space in an unformed void.

The others followed him up the stairs as he looked around.

“I wanted something to do,” Rin said by way of explanation as she moved to stand near the painting set-up.

“And I wasn’t gonna let her ruin her back on a terrible couch,” Futaba added.

“It was pretty bad on my human back,” Morgana commented.

Akira smiled and shook his head.  “It just makes it better, Futaba.  Welcome to my home, such as it is, Rin.”

She smiled her tiny grin.  “Glad to be in a home.”

Chapter Text

Akira rolled out of bed the next morning, apprehensive.  His dreams had not included the Velvet Room, but instead a strange blur of a green city beneath the ocean.  But before he could think any further on it, the bustle of his morning routine pushed the memory of the dream from his mind.  He left Rin to her own devices for the day, and headed to school.  

He couldn’t concentrate at all with his head full of speculation on what Lavenza’s sister might be like.  Mr. Ushimaru’s lecture on trade networks across Asia slipped in one ear and out the other.  Akira normally prided himself on being a good student.  It had been almost necessary when he started at Shujin and everyone thought he carried a knife on him (was that why he manifested a knife when he awakened Arsené?) and he’d studied hard to take the top spot in the class.  But now, working to bring this ideal reality down, it didn’t feel so important.

The Phantom Thieves group chat being so lively didn’t help his concentration.

Fox: We are meeting at Leblanc after school, correct?

Panther: Yes?

Fox: Excellent.  For some reason I thought we would be discussing it at Shujin, and was trying to formulate a way to infiltrate.

Skull: You could just… walk in?

Fox: Nonsense.

Queen: Regardless, Leblanc is where Lavenza-san said to meet, so don’t wander over here, okay?

Oracle: ive invited akechi

Oracle: so he can be on the same page as us

Joker: Thank you, Futaba.

Panther: Should we also invite Yoshizawa-san?

Joker: She said she’s still trying to figure out what she wants to do.

Oracle: i mean, a sneak peak inside a phantom thieves meeting might help her decide

Joker: She’s been through enough already, and we have plenty on our plate, what with meeting this ‘sister.’

Queen: Onboarding a new member would be a bit much at the moment.

Skull: Any idea what this sister will be like?

Noir: Rin-chan apparently met a different sister, one we aren’t meeting.  Her description was superficially similar to Lavenza, but taller.

Noir: Perhaps the Velvet Room is staffed entirely with platinum-blond people in blue?

Panther: Huh.  I wonder…

Joker: You added Rin to the chat, right Futaba?

Oracle: sure did

Skull: Uh… I don’t wanna be rude…

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” Morgana snickered as he read the chat while stuffed in Akira’s desk.

Queen: Ryuji.

Skull: I mean… I guess she can read it?  Keep up?

Skull: I’m just saying, how’s she gonna type?  With her toes?

Witch: Technology is amazing these days skull.

Skull: Wha!?

Oracle: (¬‿¬)

Panther: So you actually can type, Rin?

Witch: No.

Witch: But the stiff lady in my phone can hear me.

Oracle: shes got this new personal assistant ai from madicce

Oracle: called EMMA

Panther: Oh, I saw an ad for that.

Panther: It was like a sign-up for the beta, or something?

Oracle: correct

Oracle: its not available to the public yet

Witch: My parents asked the company for me.

Witch: And they wanted to test how good she is at listening and making my words into words.

Fox: It seems to be a rousing success.

Witch: If that is what you want to call it.

Queen: How long have you had this program?

Witch: A few months.

Witch: But I haven’t really used it until now.

Witch: Now I’m laying on the attic floor staring at my canvas trying to think of a new idea.

Witch: And listening to the computer lady read your conversation.

Witch: It sounds funny.

Oracle: cant muster the will to get up from the floor?  #relatable

Queen: Are you sure you’re okay, Rin?

Witch: Maybe I need coffee.

Joker: Well, you’re in an excellent place to get some.

Akira quickly stowed his phone as Mr. Ushimaru cleared his throat, and let the rest of the day pass him by.  No use worrying about their appointment after school.  They’d meet this sister soon enough.

Rin sits up from the floor of the attic, the kink in her shoulder finally soothed.  She spins her phone around and turns EMMA off with a tap of her toe.  She’s useful, but her voice is so flat that Rin finds it annoying.  She climbs up onto the stool to stare at the canvas.  It’s not cooperating.  The red and blue need to meet, need to blend into something new, but they don’t want to.  They’re bratty and spoiled and argumentative and Rin is no counselor, so she ignored them and lay on the floor to listen to the group chat.  Looking at the canvas again reveals no further insight into reconciling the red and blue.  She wants to keep working, to push forward even when she has no ideas, but a memory of the atelier above the art gallery comes to mind and she stops.  No, she can’t force this.

She spins off her stool and shuffles downstairs.  The café is relaxing, the quiet white noise of an infomercial playing on the TV.  Boss is leaning over the counter, scrutinizing a black and white grid in a magazine.  A puzzle, Rin guesses.  The old couple that seem to be regulars are in their usual seat, the booth by the stairs.  They both nod and smile to Rin as she steps down, and she makes the effort to nod back.  There’s another face, but not an unfamiliar one.  A woman in white doctor’s coat, with tall platform shoes, her short black hair slightly messy, her makeup dark and thick.  Rin recognizes her from the other day: the woman that Akira knows, the doctor who sold him drugs.  She’s eating a plate of something (it’s probably curry) at a booth, and glancing between the infomercial on the TV and her phone on the table.  She glances up at Rin as she walks by, gives a tiny smile of recognition and goes back to her meal.  Rin feels -is that relief?- that she didn’t want to speak.  She’s not in a talking mood at the moment.  Maybe after coffee?

Boss notices her. “Well, what’ll be today?  Another latte?  Or maybe a soda?”

“I don’t like sweet things,” Rin says, which raises an eyebrow from Boss, but she pushes past it. “Is there anything else?  Any other cold coffee?”

He smirks. “In fact, I have just the thing,” he says, as he moves to the refrigerator and removes a glass cylinder with a handle and a rod protruding from the top.  Some coffee device that she didn’t know the name of.  He pushes the rod down, and she watches the dark liquid inside churn as a filter strains it.

“It’s called cold-brew,” Boss says as he carefully pours the coffee into a glass.  “It makes some really quite strong coffee, but it takes at least half a day to brew.  I started it last night, after your little… meeting.  Do you want milk with it?”

“No,” Rin says, instead eager to try the cold coffee concentrate raw.  Boss nods, plops a straw into the glass and slides it over to her.  Rin leans in, closes her eyes and takes a sip.  It’s… certainly concentrated.  This is coffee that Emi might actually like; it’s not as bitter or bitting as regular coffee, there’s a slightly sweet edge to it.  Rin’s not too fond of sugary things, but the taste that is like a fruity, almost chocolatey sweetness is just what she wants.  A perfect middle ground as she savors the flavor.

“Oh, I think she likes it,” Boss comments to no one, as he transfers the rest of the coffee to a jar and begins to clean the device it was brewed in, disassembling it.  Rin gives a little nod and returns to her drink.

The goth doctor stands from her booth and slides her plate and cup across the counter at Boss, along with a paper yen note, then she stretches in place and nods to Rin. Rin doesn’t know if she should return the nod: was it just a greeting, or does the lady remember her from the other day?

“Lunch break over already?” Boss asks her as he takes the bill to the register to make change.

“Unfortunately,” is all she says with her bored-sounding voice as she takes half the change and leaves the rest, then leaves the store.  Boss takes her plate and cup to the sink.  Rin wishes she could help with the dishes, but washing dishes at Yamaku taught her better.  Cooking her own dinner that one time was a narrowly avoided disaster, and Emi and Hisao had insisted on handling the clean-up.  Maybe it was for the best.

At some point the old couple shuffles out, leaving Rin alone with Boss.  He doesn’t try to strike up conversation as Rin slowly drains her glass, and she appreciates that.  He asks if she would like a refill when she’s done and obliges her.  

All silences must end though, and by the time he asks, Rin’s ready to talk. “So, how did you end up mixed up in all this Phantom Thief nonsense?”

Rin pauses.  How many times is she going to have to explain this?  “My subconscious dragged me into it when Yusuke tried to help me.”

“You were a classmate of his, right?” Boss asks, and she nods her reply. “I don’t get much of what’s happening, but it seems like… Like whatever thing has you staying here is the last thing you all have to do.  They told me that their mission on Christmas was the last one… but then…  I’m not really sure what happened then.”

Did he see the red world too?  Almost no one remembers it, according to the other Thieves.  “I hope it’s the last fight.  I have to graduate soon,” Rin says.

He lets out a bark of a laugh at that, though Rin wasn’t trying to be funny.  It doesn’t bother her as much anymore: they’re not laughing at her, she’s determined that much.  Maybe Rin is just a funny kind of person, whether she wants it or not.  

Boss has moved back to cleaning the countertop when the bell above the door rings.  They both turn to see the new customer.  She’s pale, very pale.  Her platinum hair is cut short, like Rin’s but neater, way neater.  Her yellow eyes scan everything in the café like they’re constantly seeing something new.  Her blue dress has large circles and decorative gold buckles on it, but it's hard to see beneath the brown coat she wears on top.  At least her large blue boots look cool.

Rin knows who this is instantly, but she doesn’t know what she can say in front of Boss.

“Welcome to Leblanc,” Boss says. “What can I get for you?”

“This is a café, yes?” Margaret’s sister asks, her voice high and airy.  “A place where refreshments are served?”

“Uh… yes?” Boss answers, thrown a bit.

“Do you have the drink that humans derived from unborn plants, to energize themselves?” she asks. “That dark elixir of forbidden labors?”

Boss is stumped.  “Wha…”

Rin is compelled to intervene. “I think she wants a coffee.”

“Coffee!  Yes, that is what it’s called,” she says, nodding and taking out a small blue coin purse made of velvet from her coat. “How much for the most potent version?”

Boss slides a glance over to Rin, as if asking for confirmation of… something?  Rin isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say here.  She shrugs.

“I just have some cold-brew here if you want to try it, it’s pretty ‘potent,’” Boss says, holding up the mason jar of the spare coffee he was just about to put in the refrigerator.  “It’ll be four hundred yen, or you can order the curry meal for eight hundred; that has the coffee with it.”

“Oh, I have heard of curry before,” the woman says. “What kind of curry might this be?”

Boss smiles. “It’s a special house recipe.”  He sounds more… usual.  More like himself now; less confused.  He’s back on familiar ground.

The woman seems intrigued. “Oh, secrets.  How delightful.  I will take one coffee and one special house recipe curry for eight hundred yen, please.”

The woman takes a seat and lets the coin purse tip over on the counter.  Boss has turned to get some of the curry and doesn’t notice as a heap of coins spill out, more than could possibly fit in the purse.  The woman fishes out eight 100-yen coins and separates them, before sliding the rest of the money-pile back into her magic bag.  Her demeanor is unchanged; nonchalant and innocent, as if she’s completely unaware just performed an impossible feat.

Rin feels a tiny mote of what seems like annoyance spark in her heart, but she quashes it.  What would she even be mad about?  That the magic woman from the magical psychology dimension doesn’t behave normally?  Why should that bother her?

Boss finishes preparing the remaining cold-brew coffee and curry for the woman, and slides both of them before the woman.  She begins eating quickly in silence as Boss cleans a bit more.  Rin watches her, unable to shake a feeling about the woman.  There’s something about her wandering into the café and being so strange that set Rin on edge, and she can’t tell why.  Is it… disdain?  No.  Envy?  No.

Maybe it is envy.  That as a magic person, she gets to act strange and no one will whisper behind her back or call her names.  Maybe Rin resents that freedom.

“This is a marvelous dish,” the woman says at length, having finished her plate in record time.  “It is a precisely crafted formula that compliments the coffee, even in this concentrated form.  I’m also detecting familial bonding and unfulfilled longings within.  And the coffee itself; a lifetime of love and attention, surely.  It so perfectly summarizes this establishment as a hidden gem of ‘safety,’ more than words can say.”

Boss shoots another look at Rin, this one more concerned.  It’s now that she realizes what he’s trying to ask her: ‘Is this a Phantom Thief thing?’  Rin supposes that it is.  Boss must not be clued in on the specifics of what is going on, but he does seem to understand that strange things follow the Phantom Thieves.  She nods at Boss, trying to say ‘we can handle this’ but also lost as to how a single nod would communicate that.

“Are you from the Velvet Room?” Rin asks.  Boss moves away, attempting to look like he is not keeping an eye on the woman.

The woman turns in her seat to stare at Rin.  Her yellow eyes interrogate Rin’s soul; she has never felt more seen by anyone, not even Hisao or Maruki.  It’s not an entirely pleasant feeling.

“I am,” she says, her voice still airy and light, but somehow the change in conversation makes her tone feel darker. “And you are playing the part of the Seeker, I can see.  An altered side to the Fool.  Not an Arcana often seen, but always an interesting one to be drawn.  You were a brief guest in the Room, if Margaret did not lead me astray.”

Rin isn’t sure what to say, but the woman smiles and speaks for her. “Oh, please forgive me.  All this time in the human world and I still can’t seem to master introductions.  My name is Elizabeth.  What is your name?”

“Rin.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rin,” Elizabeth says. “Temporary as it may be.  My sister gave me a task and notes for this, so I’m well prepared for this discussion.”  She smiles, looking both serene and excited, somehow. “I’ve never attended a meeting like this before.”

“I don’t think meetings are very good,” Rin says. “They are usually boring or worse.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth replies. “Are they stressful?  I must admit that the thought of giving a presentation to an entire team does sound like a rather large responsibility.”

“I guess they are,” Rin says, looking away and back at her half-full glass of coffee.  Her concentration feels like it's finally returning thanks to the caffeine.  “I guess when I showed all my art at a gallery, that was like a big presentation.  If it was, I think I flunked.”

“Fascinating,” Elizabeth says, her gaze turning towards Rin in a more kind manner, almost like a student in class. “Could you perhaps instruct me on what to do, or what not to do?”

Rin turns back to her. “Well, first things first: lock your knees so you don’t fall over.”

Their talk lasts for another half an hour, rapidly ping-ponging from topic to topic.  Rin is so absorbed in talking about nothing that she almost doesn’t notice the girl with long red hair enter and move straight to the restroom behind her as Boss is distracted.  A few moments later, the bell on the door rings again and Akira enters.

“Hey Boss, hey Rin,” he says as he removes his winter coat to hang on a peg.  He’s missed the third person in the room.  She turns in her seat to inspect him, and he’s stopped as he walks by, arrested by her icterine gaze.  “Uhhh…” is all that comes out of him as Elizabeth stands and gives a motion of respect Rin has never seen, something between a bow and curtsy.

“Pleased to meet you, Wild Card,” Elizabeth says. “I trust you are taking excellent care of my little sister?”

Akira audibly gulps and exhales as the other Thieves enter behind him.  “Um… yes?”

Akira thanked whatever powers controlled such things as Yusuke walked through the front door of Leblanc.  The entire rest of the Phantom Thieves crew had found their way there, though they had all been variously delayed by trips around Yongen for snacks and drinks and Futaba insisting on a specific type of Pocky in what was supposed to be a trip straight here.  Their new guest was savoring a small biscuit from among the snacks that Ann had bought, sitting in one of the counter seats, turned to face the rest of the café.  The Thieves were arranged haphazardly around the booths, filling the center booth, Futaba on her knees in the back booth, propped up on the back of the seat, Ryuji sitting backwards in a counter seat, Rin behind him, and Akechi leaning against an unused table.  

Yusuke made apologies for being late and settled in as Akira eyed their guest.  She was similar to Lavenza, Caroline and Justine in appearance, but there was something more… earthly about her.  Maybe it was the brown coat that sat atop her normal blue Velvet Room attire.

“Now that we are all assembled, I can begin my sister’s briefing,” she said. “My name is Elizabeth, a former attendant of the Velvet Room.”

“I have a question, Elizabeth-san,” Makoto began, and continued before Elizabeth could acknowledge her. “What is the Velvet Room, and what do you mean, ‘former’?”  Several of the other Thieves nodded, and even Akechi was openly paying attention, rather than feigning disinterest.

“The Velvet Room is a place between dream and reality, between mind and matter.  It exists to guide humanity away from destructive influences from outside the human world.”

“Things like a cognitively constructed god?” Akechi asked.

“Yes, among other things.  As for what I mean by ‘former’… I left my duties several years ago.  There was someone who was a guest… we helped them on their destiny, but their fate was not something I could accept.  My brother stayed, but I chose to search the human world for ways to alter that fate.”

“What kind of fate?” Ann asked.

“Were they caught up in something like us?” Ryuji added before Elizabeth had a chance to speak.

Elizabeth smiled and held up her hand, her expression unreadable.  “You will undoubtedly have many such questions, but some of them are not mine to answer.  And even those I may answer may not have satisfactory answers, as I understand many humans desire, but we must focus on the matter at hand.  We are on a time limit, of a sort.”

Everyone murmured before she continued. “This new reality is… corrosive to those of us who derive our power from the Velvet Room.  My sister chose this spot because all of you view it as a place of rest, comfort and safety; and those cognitions allow me to exist and converse with all of you more easily here than anywhere else.  Partaking in the food and beverage that this shop is known for is also a way to channel those cognitions, and I am also more accustomed to existing in the human world than any of my siblings, but I cannot stay indefinitely.  So we must stay focused.”

They all nodded.  “Please continue, Elizabeth-san,” Haru said.

“I have some speculation from my sister, as well as her briefing on the situation,” Elizabeth said, removing what looked like a miniature version of the book that Lavenza carried from her coat and opening it.  “This Doctor Maruki has altered the world by altering the cognition of the masses, a power she calls ‘actualization.’  According to my sister, he was able to use the current manifestation of the cognitive realm, Mementos, to do this.”

“He said he needed to get to the bottom of it to do what he needed,” Rin said.  She wasn’t looking at the conversation, but seemed to be turned away, looking at the back stairs.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Her research indicated that he has somehow kept the Metaverse and physical world partially fused, such that his mass actualization of all of Tokyo has also affected the physical world.”

“But how?” Ann asked. “It took a god to fuse them together, and they started to pull apart right after we killed it.”

“If Maruki had to get to the bottom of Mementos… It has to be that place, that… panopticon,” Makoto mused. “All the veins of desire led there.  It was where the Holy Grail gorged itself on the people’s belief.”

“If a normal Persona user got there…” Morgana said.  “And had access to all that power… they could stop the fusion.”

“Exactly,” Elizabeth said, examining her small notebook, tearing out two blank pages and grabbing a pen. “From what my sister says, he most likely used his Persona as a massive lynchpin to stop their unraveling.”  She held up the two pages, stacked atop one another  and slid them apart with one hand, then jabbed the pen through the space where they overlapped before they separated. “This would be no small feat, but if one had access to the thoughts and prayers of all of Tokyo, it is more than possible.”

“But how could he obtain that power?” Yusuke asked, skeptically. “Even if he was there, the public would have had to place their trust in him, like they did for us.  It was that power, those hopes and dreams that allowed Akira to vanquish the God of Control.”

“The power of human belief can move from one individual to another quite easily,” Elizabeth said. “Before your group possessed it, the God of Control held the belief of the masses.  Where do you think that power has gone?”

“Are you saying that people think of him as some kinda god?” Ryuji asked, swapping his folded legs, nervous at the implication of their conversation. “How?  He’s not famous, they don’t even know who he is.”

“They didn’t know about the God of Control before Christmas,” Makoto countered. “And yet it was able to gather their power, because of what it represented: an easier path.”

“They don’t worship Maruki, they just want to be happy,” Rin said, turning back to look at the group. “And he has used that desire.”

“But how did Maruki get this power?” Akechi asked. “It’s not like the Phantom Thieves ceded control of it to him.”

Akira sighed heavily. “I think… I think maybe we did.”  They all looked at him, surprised.  All except Elizabeth, who had a kind of mirthless smile on her face, like she knew what Akira was about to speculate on. “After we defeated the God of Control, we released the power of public belief back to the masses, wishing for a better world… and he was waiting at the panopticon to receive that wish and take that power.”

“But when would we have even asked him for that kind of thing?” Ryuji asked loudly. “I don’t remember wishing for any kinda world with him.”

“What about…” Ann said. “What about our counseling sessions?”

They all fell silent, recounting the time they had each spent with Maruki, talking through their lives and wishing they were unburdened by their trauma.  Even those of them who were not Shujin students had spoken with him: Yusuke had tracked him down at the school festival, Maruki had stopped by Leblanc and chatted with Futaba, and then there was the session with Rin that Yusuke had arranged… the one where he had tried to ‘actualize’ her.

Akechi looked around, reading all their troubled and slightly guilty faces. “Well, look at all the flies buzzing right into the spider’s parlor.”

“It’s impossible to say whether he planned all of that out, or simply seized the perfect opportunity after the fusion,” Elizabeth said. “My siblings are investigating the possibility that he received aid from another entity, but the result is the same: you all had the desire in your hearts for a world without pain.”

“Sifting through people’s thoughts to pluck out the one desire advantageous to him does seem to be his specialty,” Morgana said.

“And we even led him to the idea of the cognitive world…” Futaba mumbled under her breath.

“So…” Ryuji murmured. “Are we… responsible for this?  Is this… our fault?”

The room was silent for a moment before Yusuke spoke. “No. We are not to blame for this.  We had no way of knowing what Doctor Maruki was going to do, or if he even knew then.  Just as none of us is responsible for the misdeeds of the Palace rulers.”

“We can’t stop people from doing bad things,” Haru spoke up. “But if we see someone doing something wrong and don’t stop it, then it’s our fault.”

“Maruki chose to do this,” Rin said. “And we chose to stop him.  It’s that simple.”

Elizabeth nodded at their talk, smiling at their conversation. “A strong sense of resolve, yes…” she said, almost to herself. “That also drove the others.  Perhaps it is part of the power of Persona…”

“Come again, Elizabeth-san?” Makoto asked.

“Pay me no mind,” Elizabeth responded. “Regardless, the partial fusion of the two worlds is beginning to progress back towards total overlap, a process most likely being forced by the doctor’s Persona, super-charged by the power of Mementos.  The powers of your Persona let you and those with whom you have bonds see through the fiction he has established, but it will not be enough if the perfect fusion is completed.  If the process is disrupted, then the events of this period of time will most likely unwind themselves.”

“Like how no one without a Persona can remember the fusion,” Makoto said.

“Correct,” Elizabeth confirmed.  “But if he manages to complete his research, and this perfect fusion of mind and matter is made manifest, his will to power will override reality, and there will be no going back.”  She looked around the group, looking each of them in the eye to make sure they understood.

“How long do we have, Lady Elizabeth?” Morgana asked.

Elizabeth inspected her notebook before responding. “Lavenza estimates… a month at most.”  

They all jumped at the short time frame.  “Just a month?” Futaba complained.

“If that long,” Elizabeth said.

“Setsubun,” Ann said, to a few confused glances. “He said he wanted to finish this before Setsubun this year.  I think the last day we have to do this is February third.  He probably chose it because that’s when he thinks his actualization will be complete.”

“That does make sense…” Makoto mused.

“Then we got no choice,” Ryuji said, placing his hand flat on the table. “We gotta infiltrate his Palace, get to the bottom of Mementos, whatever we gotta do, we gotta do in the rest of January.”

“Our deadline is the second of February…” Morgana thought aloud. “And I highly doubt we’ll be able to talk him down before then, so we will probably… have to fight him.”

“Is that going to be a problem for you all?” Akechi asked.

“Only that he seemed extremely powerful…” Akira responded. “We’ll need to plan this out carefully.”

“One last mission… one last calling card…” Yusuke said. “Rin, would you like to create it with me?”

“A calling card is like the thing you send before you steal something, right?” Rin asked, then spoke without waiting for confirmation. “I definitely want to help.  I have some things to say to him.”

“I still have some pretty big unanswered questions,” Ann asked. “For one: how does the Metaverse Navigator App still exist?”

“Yeah, you’d think if Maruki was restructuring reality, he’d make it so people couldn’t enter his Palace.  Relatedly, how did he censor his name on it?” Futaba added.

Akira pulled his phone out to look at the new, pearlescent icon for the MetaNav. “It looks different, but it’s still here.  Maybe it’s… just part of the Metaverse?  He clearly wants to protect his new world, but I don’t think he can remove the MetaNav.”

“Then I suppose censoring his name on the app is the best his power can do, if he can’t delete it entirely,” Makoto said.

“It would make it very hard to get into, had Sumire and I not stumbled into accidentally last year,” Akira said.

“And he’s obsessed with proving to you all that he’s created a perfect world,” Akechi said. “So he’s not going to actualize anyone out of existence, if he even can.”

“Well, whatever his reasoning, we’re not gonna just sit back and let him do it,” Ryuji said. “We already made a promise.  No backing down.” He turned to Akechi. “You good with that?”

“You’re seriously asking me?” Akechi said, his tone of voice hovering somewhere between curious and exasperated.

“You’re part of the team now, regardless of anything else,” Ryuji said. “That means you get a say in what we do.  If-”

“I have no intention of accepting this reality,” Akechi said, cutting Ryuji off. “I’m fine with his plan.”

“What about… Yoshizawa-san?” Ann asked, hesitantly.

Makoto sighed. “We may not have invited her, due to her… circumstances, but we’d be lying if we told ourselves this doesn’t involve her.”

“If Maruki changed her like he tried to change me,” Rin said. “Then she deserves to be part of taking him down.”

“I agree, but she may feel differently,” Akira said, waving a hand. “I’ll explain everything to her, and what she chooses to do after that is up to her.”

“We’ll give her a choice, unlike Maruki,” Morgana chimed in.

Akechi rolled his eyes. “How noble.”

Akira glanced back at Elizabeth, who was looking away from the group, smiling at something at the back of the shop, near the bathroom.  Was the bathroom door… ajar?  The thought was chased out of Akira’s mind as Elizabeth returned her gaze to the rest of the group.

“Well, it seems that all the relevant information has been shared with everyone it needs to be shared with,” she said, stowing her notebook and standing from her seat. “You already understood much of what Lavenza speculated on.  I’m impressed.”

Akira stood as well, extending his hand. “Thank you.  It was fascinating meeting you, Elizabeth-san.  Please give our greetings to your… siblings.”

She took his hand and shook it once. “You are not quite the Wild Card he was… but perhaps that is for the best.  Farewell and good luck, Trickster.”  The room flashed with bright blue light, and she vanished, leaving a small butterfly of blue light that fluttered out through the window glass.  They made infiltration plans and let Akechi back into the group chat, then broke for the night. 

A minute or so after the rest of the Thieves had left and Morgana had headed upstairs, Akira heard a creak from the bathroom, only to see a figure peering out.  A red-headed, bespectacled figure, in a Shujin uniform.

“Um…” she mumbled, leaning on the door slightly more and slowly moving out of the restroom. “Hello, senpai.”

“Sumire?” Akira said, too stunned to even exclaim it.

“Yes… um…”  She exited the water closet and closed the door behind her. “I might have… overheard… that whole discussion.”

“How… why…” Akira sputtered, as Futaba stood behind him, oddly silent.

“How did you know to come here?” Rin asked, sitting down and sipping at a glass of water in one of the booths.

“I uh… got a message from someone named ‘Alibaba’ that I should… try and sneak in and listen…” Sumire replied, her voice small and embarrassed.

Akira was too flabbergasted to be angry; mostly he was stunned as he realized why Futaba had stalled so much looking for her snacks.  He turned on his heel to see Futaba pushing Rin out the front door.

“SorryAkira, gottahelpRinwithherbathandstuff, kthxbyeeee!” Futaba blurted out as they left.

“It’s only 5 o’clock, wh-” was all Akira could hear Rin say before the door closed.

The café was very quiet as the two of them stood there alone.

“I’m sorry, Kusuru-senpai,” Sumire said. “I should have asked you before following that message’s advice.”

Akira gave a great sigh.  Not of anger, but of exhaustion.  “It’s fine, Sumire.  Here, let me make coffee.”

Akira made cups for them both, and they discussed what she had overheard, and confirmed the parts she was still shaky on.

“It’s… really admirable,” she said. “You’ve all decided what you need to do, and you all decided with such confidence…”

“Well, we had a whole other discussion about this before,” Akira explained.  “We’ve all given it a fair amount of thought.”

“But I… I’m still lost,” Sumire said. “I’ve given it a lot of thought too, and I still can’t make up my mind.  Doctor Maruki was right on one thing… I ran from the truth, I couldn’t handle the reality that Kasumi died… and I lived.  And that’s what let him do that to me, right?”

Akira didn’t want to confirm that for her, but it was true, and she deserved the truth. “Yes.  It appears that his actualization does need to be accepted, on some level.”

Sumire wasn’t meeting his eyes, she was staring down into her cup of coffee.  She shifted her gaze and looked out the window into the newly darkened sky.  “That girl… Rin-san… from what she said, Doctor Maruki tried to do the same thing to her, didn’t he?”

“He did, but her Shadow fought back,” Akira said, then realized how that sounded the instant it left his lips.

“I see,” Sumire said. “I guess… it is possible to resist, if you’re strong enough.”

“Her Shadow had some help from us,” Akira said. “And it’s not your fault that you were deceived when you were at your most vulnerable.  Besides, we were all taken in by his world at some point.”

“Even you?” Sumire asked.

“All of us,” Akira said.

“Thank you for saying that, senpai,” Sumire said. 

But as she sipped her coffee, Akira wondered how truthful he was being.  Why had he been somehow immune to having his ideal world actualized on New Year’s Day?  Was it the Velvet Room, his multiple Personas, or something else?  Or was he still actualized and didn’t even know it?  The thought of still being trapped in by Maruki’s illusion while leading the Phantom Thieves sent a chill down his spine.

He tried to analyze what strange things had happened to him after defeating Yaldabaoth, but it was like finding a needle in a haystack: everything about his life was strange.  He supposed that Futaba stumbling upon a Christmas meal on Christmas Eve and her, Sojiro and him having the perfect Christmas Eve was a bit… unlikely, but that seemed like too attainable a desire for Maruki to act on.  What else was there?

Christmas Eve… there was something else…

“I guess it’s odd,” Sumire said, breaking Akira’s train of thought.  “I didn’t really want to be Kasumi… but after she died, I blamed myself, and I thought that I would have to live on for her. I guess that’s how I accepted what he did…  But in the end I was just running away.”

“But… not any more?” Akira asked, trying to steer both Sumire and the conversation forward, out of these depressing straits.

Sumire clenched her sleeve and looked down at the table, the glare of her glasses hiding her eyes, but she nodded. “I do want to move on, but with Kasumi gone, I just can’t… think of what that is.  You all are moving on, and I can’t keep running… but what should I do, senpai?”

Akira put on his best wry smile. “I can’t choose for you, but I know you’ll choose well, Sumire.”

Sumire inhaled sharply and blushed, caught off guard. “You don’t let anyone off easy, do you, senpai?  But you’re right.” She stood from her seat and shouldered her bag. “Thank you for listening to me, and for not being too mad about the eavesdropping… I’m still not sure what I want to do, but I’ll be sure to let you know the instant I do.”

“Glad to help, Sumire,” Akira said, before she left.  Akira smiled, then picked up his phone and messaged Futaba.

21Faces: You, Futaba Sakura, are a menace.

alibaba: (=｀ω´=)

Chapter Text

Sumire’s real awakening shocked all present, even Akira.

The Phantom Thieves had met up the day after their discussion with Elizabeth, and decided to begin exploring Maruki’s shining white Palace that day.  Sumire had been waiting for them inside the Palace, firm in her resolve to live as herself and join the Phantom Thieves.  They all agreed, and her codename of ‘Violet’ was given.  Her Metaverse outfit was unstable, flickering with azure flames, and once disappearing entirely to leave her in her winter coat for a moment before her leotard and coat returned.  She had apologized profusely, to the scorn of Akechi and the consternation of everyone else.  Akira had remembered her Persona awakening, how she had screamed that she was the real Kasumi Yoshizawa when she had stumbled into the Metaverse last year.

“Mona,” Akira had whispered, as Haru and Yusuke scouted ahead. “Can someone with serious delusions about their identity still awaken a Persona?”

Morgana wasn’t fooled. “You mean Violet?  I suppose it’s possible. But if that delusion was broken, then that power might begin to wane…”

Akira hoped he was wrong, but when the group was ambushed by a crowd of Shadows dropping from the ceiling, his fears were realized as Sumire pulled her mask off and failed to summon her Persona as the Shadows surrounded her.  Her mask reappeared on her face, and refused to leave.  Rin and Ryuji moved to intervene, but Akira held out a hand, blocking them.  

That first awakening she had last year… it must have been like Haru’s partial initial awakening, her Persona was waiting for a real vow.  And indeed, when Sumire cried out her wishes to the heavens and tore her black mask from the skin of her face in a bloody spray, the glass woman Cendrillon appeared, blasting the Shadows apart with a bless spell.

In the chaos, only Futaba had noticed the researcher-Shadow observing them from the balcony, mumbling to itself.  She suggested they find it and ambush it to get its ID card and make things easier, and a short trek around the lab later they found it.  They ambushed it, and it disintegrated into three figures, one they had seen before -the psychedelically colorful form of the Hedonistic Braggart from the depths of Mementos that had become Dionysus- and two new Shadows.  One was a nude human figure with feathered wings, a horned mask, flowing blonde hair and a spear, riding a green serpent, and the other was robed and cloaked figure with golden skin and a strange, flesh-like crown that sat atop a purple camel-creature.  Futaba’s Persona labeled the serpent-rider Joyless Duke, and the robed camel-rider Polymath of the Dunes.   

While the Shadows were still disoriented Akechi called out that the Joyless Duke was weak to fire spells, apparently something he had learned in his solo exploration, and Futaba pointed out Dionysus’s history of electric attacks, so Morgana retreated and let Ryuji take his spot.  Rin cast Masukunda with Artemisia, leaving all three of the enemies sluggish and clumsy.  Sumire directed a bless spell at the whole crowd, pillars of white light bursting out under them.  Akira directed his first attack at the Joyless Duke, and summoned Surt to burn it away with an Inferno spell; both the man and the serpent he rode were blasted to the ground by the fire giant’s beam of energy.

“Skull, beat the center one into the dirt!” Akira called out.

“Way ahead of you!” Ryuji shouted, as he ran up with his studded metal bat and cracked the colorful god in the ribs, then pointed up to one of the balconies overlooking the area, where Makoto leapt off the railing, then crushed the Shadow out of existence with a falling-star punch.  Then she retreated, their tag-team showtime attack complete.

The battle took a bit longer, but eventually Rin scored a critical hit on the Joyless Duke, knocking it to the floor again, and she passed her action to Sumire, who drew her lever-action rifle and unloaded on the Polymath of the Dunes.  The whole party was surprised when that managed to knock the Shadow off its hooves; it had been a while since any Shadow had shown a weakness to guns.

They surrounded the Shadows, and before they could even ask, the Polymath of the Dunes spoke up.  “First the strange new security, now you interlopers?”

That piqued Akira’s interest. “New security?”

The Shadow sighed, sounding bored. “The inner guard has been replaced; to be deployed at hot-spots.  But I shouldn't talk about such things with you.”

Akira smirked, lowering his pistol slightly.  “Then maybe you could join me?  Sounds like your job with Maruki’s on thin ice.”

The Shadow barked a mirthless laugh as it stroked its purple camel’s mane. “You are certainly blunt.  But no, the terms of my summoning are absolute.”

Akira saw Ryuji roll his eyes at that response as Sumire looked around nervously.  This was her first negotiation, and they hadn’t exactly prepared her for this unusual niche of battle.  Akira raised his pistol again and glanced over at the other Shadow.  “And what about you?” he asked, but the Joyless Duke refused to meet his eyes and did not respond.

“Have it your way,” Akira said, then snapped his fingers and all his allies lept on the Shadows, shredding them in an all-out attack.  As the black mist faded, the ID card they sought felt to the ground.

“So, what was that about ‘new security?’” Ryuji asked as Akira retrieved the card.

“Can Palaces even get new staff?  Where would they get them from?” Ann asked, glancing at the nearby crowd of people-like cognitions that still seemed oblivious to the battle that had just taken place.

“Either from Mementos or from the ‘Sea of Souls’ that they sometimes mention, that would be my guess,” answered Makoto.

“It was weird though…” Morgana said, folding his arms. “Why did it feel the need to mention it?  Like it’s out of the ordinary?”

“Perhaps some Shadows are prone to gossip, just like humans,” Yusuke pondered.

“We should keep moving,” Akechi said, in an effort to end the conversation.

And move on they did.  With the ID card they passed the sealed door, finding a dark warehouse behind it.  It was difficult to navigate, and the security level jumped as Rin and Sumire stumbled into laser tripwires, both of them not used to infiltration.  They battled their way across the sprawling warehouse, until a partially collapsed pile of crates presented a way up to the rafters and over the maze of boxes.

The raised security level manifested as they crossed the steel rafters of the warehouse in single file.  Akira watched as a simple warehouse worker Shadow near the door stumbled, leaking an oily fluid, before twisting and bloating, becoming something… new.  Its form was something nonhuman: a mass of black sludge, with a dozen white porcelain faces hovering around and on its surface, as spindly arm-like appendages reached out and dragged its bulk along the floor to rest in front of the door out of the room.

“Oh that’s nasty…” Ryuji said, his voice more than a little bit queasy.

“Is that the… ‘new security’?” Sumire asked, as they all stared down from the rafters and watched the Shadow pulsate in place, impossible to sneak past.

“I would hazard a guess that it is,” Yusuke said, his voice disdainful. “Its outer shell is quite unlike the cold, clinical figures we’ve encountered so far.”

“Aesthetics matter in a Palace,” Ann chimed in. “The outer appearance of the Shadows always reflects something about the Palace and its ruler.”

“What were the Shadows in my Palace like?” Rin asked quietly.

“They were construction workers, Witch,” Haru mentioned, as she was situated right next to Rin on the beam. “And I guess general handypeople.  Blue-collar workers.”  Rin mulled that over as the rest of the team continued their conversation.

“And what does the blob say about this Palace?” Akechi asked. “It certainly doesn’t fit.”

“I mean, this Palace is a lab,” Futaba said, still scanning the Shadow with her goggles. “A sludge monster with a dozen faces and arms is pretty clearly an escaped experiment.  Like a B.O.W. from Biohazard.  Whatever its origin, this is a really tough one.  Better be ready before we take it on.”

Akira gazed down at the creature as he reviewed their lineup.  They’d been fairly worn down by their encounters, and he’d swapped frontlines after they had battled with the Shadow who held the ID.  After resting in the backline Rin, Sumire and Haru were in the best shape, so he told them to form the frontline, and for everyone else to wait in the rafters.  

They managed to literally get the drop on the creature, as they dropped from the rafters and ambushed it.  After the three of them with guns unloaded into the black mass, it exploded, leaving three creatures between them and the door.  The two in front had the same form… though ‘form’ was a strong word.  They both resembled the green Slime Shadows that they had encountered nearly a year ago in Kamoshida’s Palace, but gigantic, and with no recognizable face.  Instead, eyes and mouths rapidly formed and dissolved in the translucent green jelly of its body, and shapeless pseudopods wriggled around it.  Al Azif labeled each of them Engineered Protoplasm.

The creature behind them was even stranger.  It was roughly the height of a person, but it was completely non-humanoid: its main body was a gray-green, oddly tube-like structure, with five ridges around it like a star fruit, and an odd radial symmetry to its body.  From the bottom of its body, five purple root-like tendrils brushed the ground from where it floated, and at the top of its body were five muddy-red eyestalks, each rolling about, searching for information.  Midway down its body were five sets of flailing tendrils, each forking into smaller and appendages.  But the most immediately noticeable thing about the creature was the two purple wings that spread from the middle of its body; not feathered or even bat-like, they seemed more like aquatic fins: thin, membranous and frilled.  Two of its eyestalks seemed to zero in on the Thieves, and it emitted strange gurgling and chittering noises so high-pitched that they were almost beyond human hearing.  Futaba’s Persona labeled the creature a Pentagonal Precursor.

Akira ordered the party to focus on defense until they knew what they were dealing with.  Rin slowed the creatures with Artemisia, Akira raised their defense with Laksmi, and Haru cast Tetrakarn to shield Akira from physical blows.  Sumire, with no defensive skills, tried to attack one of the front two creatures, but the Engineered Protoplasm was completely unaffected by her rapier thrusts.

“Well, no physical attacks on the blobs,” Futaba communicated from her Persona. “Looks like that might even heal it.  Glad we learned that first.”

The Engineered Protoplasms each spewed a dark mist over the Thieves, which inflicted a new effect on Haru and Akira: poison.  Nothing else in the Metaverse had done this to them yet, and Akira could feel his strength begin to ebb away as the poison began to take hold and he felt his throat swell.  The Pentagonal Precursor flailed its tentacles at the far right member of the party, and Rin blinked as her eyes became bleary, before she fell to one knee then to the floor in a sleep inflicted by the Shadow.

“Status effect spam?  Come on,” Futaba whined from above.  The Pentagonal Precursor then directed a powerful ice spell at Sumire, but she backflipped away from it, dodging the blossoming ice crystals.  Haru let out a sick cry as she summoned Astarte to cleanse them of all status effects.  Akira immediately felt better, and Rin began to stand up, slightly lost as to what had happened.  Sumire shouted out for Cendrillon, and summoned pillars of bless magic under each enemy, which blasted apart large chunks of each of the Engineered Protoplasms and made them lose structure, such that they slumped on the ground , but didn’t so much as scratch the winged and tentacled horror in the back.  It gave Haru the opportunity to try and blast each of the enemies with a psychic attack, which worked better than Sumire’s rapier thrust, but did not have that much effect.

“More weird insight from Al Azif,” Futaba informed them. “It says to try fire on the… ‘Elder Thing’?  I think it means the smaller one in the back.”

Akira was about to switch his Persona back to Surt, but Rin stepped forward and summoned her robed, star-eyed Persona.  He raised each of his hands, both with a tiny sun in the palm, and they blazed with light as Rin shouted, “Giordano, Agidyne!”  A vortex of flames engulfed the Pentagonal Precursor, leaving it charred on the floor.  Akira noted the varied skills of her Personas.  Giordano seemed to possess multiple elemental attacks, but each was weaker than what the other Thieves could do.  With each of the enemies knocked down, the Thieves wasted no time in surrounding and opening fire on them, with all-out fire support from the rest of the team in the rafters.

The hail of gunfire ceased, and the two Engineered Protoplasms’ green forms dissolved into black goop, and then into nothing.  But the Pentagonal Precursor raised one of its undulating flagellum and another green slime filled with eyes and teeth appeared in a burst of Shadow-stuff.  Akira sighed deeply.  This was going to be a while.

And so it continued for several minutes, the battle slow and brutal.  They had identified the spells each creature was weak to, but the Pentagonal Precursor was much sturdier than its minions, despite being much smaller.  They could blast the Engineered Protoplasm apart if they could get both of them down at the same time, but the creatures’ heavy use of status effects meant they could constantly disrupt the Thieves’ offense.  Each of the members of the frontline was working to cut the creatures down or keep the party healthy, but for each green slime monster they destroyed, their master summoned a new one.  At the very least, Futaba confirmed that the winged monster was not healing itself.

The battle grew more frenetic, as the Thieves that were not in the frontline jumped in to lend their assistance with firearms and special attacks and Futaba was able to replenish part of their dwindling energy, but their resources were running thin.  A nuclear attack from the Pentagonal Precursor knocked Haru off her feat, and so Akira swapped to his healing Persona Ishtar.  The blonde, horned woman Persona fully healed Haru, but then there was more poison, and then a fear-inflicting attack from the slimes, and the winged Shadow blasted the whole party with a Magarudyne wind spell, which Ishtar was weak to.  Akira felt the breath leave his lungs as he dropped to his knees and wheezed.  The Pentagonal Precursor moved forward, and prepared a new skill, red light glowing in its five eyes.  Akira barely heard what Futaba called it over the ringing in his ears, as his vision swam and his senses betrayed him.

“It’s targeting Joker!  It’s… madness!”

Akira’s vision went dark as his world fell apart around him.  It was hopeless, their quest.  Nothing mattered, he realized.  There was no reason, no order to anything in their lives.  M̶a̴r̸u̴k̷i̶’̸s̸ ̷r̷e̴a̴l̶i̷t̸y̴,̶ ̴t̶h̶e̸i̴r̷ ̷o̵l̵d̵ ̴r̷e̶a̸l̸i̸t̴y̸,̵ ̴n̸e̷i̶t̶h̸e̴r̴ ̸m̸a̴t̶t̶e̷r̴e̶d̶.̵ ̴ ̸G̷r̸e̵a̷t̶e̸r̷ ̴p̸o̵w̸e̴r̵s̶ ̶t̵h̸a̴n̷ ̷m̸a̸n̶,̸ ̸s̸h̶a̶d̶o̵w̶ ̵o̴r̴ ̵g̴o̵d̶ ̵w̴e̴r̴e̴ ̷a̴l̵r̶e̵a̶d̴y̷ ̸l̷o̴o̸k̷i̴n̵g̶ ̸d̴o̴w̵n̴ ̶u̵p̸o̸n̶ ̴t̸h̵i̵s̶ ̷p̷a̵l̴e̶ ̵b̷l̷u̴e̷ ̵d̸o̵t̸,̶ ̶̶̢̐t̷̞͑h̸̙̃ȇ̷ͅi̸̞̾r̵̠̆ ̶̠̌p̴̛̟l̷̬̑a̵͊͜n̵̾͜s̴̙̈́ ̵͔̅ä̷̟́n̴͍͛d̶̖̄ ̸͈̓l̶͑͜i̶̠͘v̷̪͛e̴̜͗s̸͔̄ ̶̯̍g̴̭̊r̷̙̒ë̴̘́á̸̩ṱ̷͝e̷͓͝r̶̘̊ ̴̝̿ì̸͚n̸͔͘ ̸̲̔s̷̡͛c̴̱̿o̸̬̓p̶͈̾ë̷͇́ ̷͙͝t̶̹̓h̴͙͛ā̸̰n̴̼̒ ̵̢͒ẖ̷͂ũ̶ͅm̷̯͗ả̸̧ṋ̶̿ḯ̴̢t̴͌ͅy̴̡͆ ̷̧̉c̶̓͜o̵͎̔ų̸̆l̴̪̾d̵͈͝ ̴͔̈́ẻ̴̲v̷͔̅e̴̟̓ṟ̴͛ ̵̨̚i̴͚͐m̵̮̓ä̴͙́g̵͍̈́i̴̙̾n̵͈͘e̶̻͠.̷̘͊ ̵̢́ ̵̪̽T̵͔̾ḫ̴̍ẹ̴̚ ̶͍͊m̷̻̃ǫ̴̀s̵͖̾t̸̫̄ ̸͆͜h̵̰̀e̵̠̓ ̵͓́c̷̥̈́ò̶̼ủ̶̝l̸̮̋d̴̡̐ ̴͓̚d̵̟͐ò̸̤ ̶͍̄w̷̪͋ạ̸̓s̸͇͝ ̵̰͐ȃ̶̞ṣ̸̈́p̶̯̔į̶̋r̸͓̎e̸̥̍ ̷̩̚t̵̝̐o̴̺͊ ̵̦̅b̷̻͋e̵̙̽ ̸̺̽a̷̟͗ṇ̵͐ ̵̝̀e̴̜͐n̸̲̂ẗ̶͉́ḙ̸͊r̷̫̀ţ̵̌a̴̟͊ï̵̦ǹ̶͇í̷̲n̷̩̔g̸̟̕ ̴̤̉s̵̫̈t̷̳͒o̸̯͝r̵͚͒y̶̛͜,̸̟́ ̴̮͐a̵̤̮͑͠ ̵̢̰̑̚b̷̲̼̈́̎ȓ̸̝͘ị̴̂e̴̩̙͂f̶͙̠̆͊ ̸̭̝̓͗ḏ̸͖̇ĭ̷͖v̵̫̽͋é̵̯̽r̶̗͑͑s̸̭̔͊i̶͙͠ỏ̸̳n̴̺̝͂ ̴̛͈f̵̟͆o̸̤̕r̵̩̓ ̷̘̭̒t̸̯͔̓h̶͔̠͘o̶͉͆s̴̟͝e̶̲̲̽ ̵̥̪͑͠ẘ̴̪̰h̸̡͒͠o̴̪͉̚ ̴̖̒̏c̶̮̔o̷̤̙̽ű̵̩̓l̵̲̈́d̵̦̉ ̸̦̎s̷̺̀e̶͎̘̾͝e̸̟͘ ̷̻̂á̴̼̠̈́ḷ̴̼̊ĺ̶̩:̸͙̟̅̀ ̶̤̘͝p̵̳͐͜a̵͙̾͒s̴̉͜ṫ̷̙,̸͉́̍ ̷̘̠͒p̴̪͋r̶͙̬͋͒e̶̾̋ͅs̵̗͊̿ë̴̲̣͠ň̵͙͎́ṯ̴͒,̵̙͕͝ ̵̠͓͆̓f̸͈̲̈́u̷̼̾̓ẗ̶̫͇́͆u̶̠͒͊r̷͉͕̀̈́ḛ̵̒̆ ̵̪̔a̵͈͐̚n̴̢̽d̸̜̂̈ ̸̠̑m̴͎͚̂o̴̩̣̓͘r̴̘̈́̃è̶̡̱̾…̴̨̑̑

“Amarita Shower!” cried Haru, and Akira returned to himself from the void, his memory blank but his emotions in turmoil on what he had just experienced.  He picked himself up off the floor, feeling a cold sweat on his face.  Whatever that was… they needed to avoid it.

“Are you okay, Joker?” Futaba asked, her distress so genuine it forced Akira to pull himself together.

“I’ll survive, Oracle,” he responded.  He wasn’t fine, not yet.

Rin called down more fire as Sumire summoned another holy pillar of light, blasting the Engineered Protoplasm apart.  The Pentagonal Precursor was running very low on health, but it summoned yet another slime servant-Shadow.  But something was different.  The summoned creature did not inflict more poison or fear on the Thieves, but the eyes floating on its surface and inside it swiveled, pointing back at the winged Shadow.  Just as each of the Thieves wondered what was happening, the Engineered Protoplasm lept backwards on to its master with a wet, chittering cry that sounded like “Te-keli-li-li-liiii!”

“That’s… new,” Makoto said as the back line jumped down from the rafters to observe more closely.  The shifting, churning motion of the slime slowed and grew still as they could see the Pentagonal Precursor dissolve inside the Engineered Protoplasm, the latter suffering damage as its summoner blasted it with ice and nuclear spells from inside it before disintegrating.  Sumire summoned her Persona for one last powerful bless spell to destroy the weakened slime, and at last both master and servant were no more.

Akira slipped off his feet, exhausted.  He removed his mask, and tried to wipe his face with his sleeve.  He wanted to lie down and rest.  He distantly heard his teammates talking, but he couldn’t parse their words.  His mind was stuck on what that Shadow had done to him, which was odd because he couldn’t remember any details, just the feeling. A feeling of hopelessness, of nihilistic resignation.

He felt hands around his upper arms as both Sumire and Ryuji lifted him to his feet, slinging his arms around their necks to help him out of the warehouse area. Was he that weak?  The party moved into the next room, which had a single patrolling Shadow and an elevator at the other end of the room.  Akira watched as Yusuke, Akechi, Ann and Makoto dealt with the Shadow without his direction, and pride and self-pity warred in his chest.  His team was a well-oiled machine, they could work even without him, but he also felt like he had when they had infiltrated Rin’s Palace without him.  What kind of leader couldn’t stand on his own two feet?

He glanced back to see Rin leaning on a nearby wall, still catching her breath from the previous battle, and Akira felt a pang of shame.  Needing help was no indicator of how fit someone was for any kind of leadership.  Rin needed help with so many things, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worthy or a valuable teammate.  Thinking of people in that kind of hierarchy of ‘usefulness’ and ‘worth’... that was Shido’s way of thinking, applied to himself.  True, it wasn’t nearly as bad as deciding the worth of another human being based on how useful they were, but for Akira to find his own mind judging himself by those standards was a shock.

The frontline defeated the Shadows and the whole team piled into the elevator.  Akira tried to insist he could stand and was fine, but neither Sumire nor Ryuji let go of him.  The elevator arrived at the next floor, where the decor of the Palace had changed from cold, blank sterility to gunmetal panels, illuminated cables and posters promoting Maruki’s ideology and method plastered all down the corridor.  Futaba scanned the hallway as they ducked into the safe room to the right and at last he had time to breathe.

Sumire and Ryuji layed Akira out on one of the crates with a tarp laid on top of it, as the rest of them found positions to rest on the barrels and other detritus in the storage closet.  He tried to calm himself, to figure out why he was so rattled, why the Shadow’s status had affected him so powerfully.  As he reflected on the dark and empty feeling that the attack had left him with, he realized why it was stuck in his head: it felt like it had returned him to his mental state of ten months ago: the ‘assault,’ his arrest and expulsion, and being transferred to Shujin.  The only people who had listened to him were his parents, but they had no power to change what had been set in motion, only nudge it in a less harmful direction.  He’d been depressed and nihilistic; not just because of what was happening to him, but due to his loss of faith in the whole system of justice that had failed him, and everyone else the bald bastard had tread upon.

But then the Metaverse happened, and then Morgana and Ryuji and Ann… They all looked up to him, and thought he’d be a good leader.  He must have looked like he was keeping his cool, but he was just so depressed and jaded that he seemed stoic.  He’d been almost resigned to his fate as leader of the Phantom Thieves… but slowly, he began to believe too.  As they helped Yusuke, rode with Makoto, got saved by Futaba, and watched Haru break free, he’d begun to believe in justice again, to hold some hope in his heart.  Even with the twists and turns of their relationship with Akechi, and Rin and Sumire’s strange, circuitous routes into being part of the team taught him that the Thieves were stronger together.

And for just a single moment, all that had been stripped away.  He’d been reduced to a hopeless shell, just waiting to accept some terrible, unknowable fate.

But it was his team that saved him.  He had learned to be better for them, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

Akira sat up and surveyed his team.  The three that faced that bizarre set of Shadows were wiped out, but the rest of them might have a little more to go on.  Futaba informed them that there was some kind of control room ahead, and Akira made the call to press on. He cracked open the Stamina Kit they’d gotten from Jose, and passed out a range of healing items to get at least four of them up to fighting shape.  He decided to let Haru, Sumire and Rin rest, and selected Ann, Akechi and Makoto to join him, as the rest of them were not feeling great.

They entered the room at the end of the hall to find what looked like a surveillance room.  It was full of monitors, but also strange, glowing cables running up the walls. They looked oddly familiar, but before he could investigate, two powerful Shadows set upon them.

They transformed into a Spear-wielding General and The Shadowed One, which were not unfamiliar forms for Shadows, but were much tougher than the versions they had encountered previously.  Thankfully, neither were as powerful as the Pentagonal Precursor, and after a taxing fight where no weaknesses could be found, they managed to vanquish them.

“What is this place?” Ryuji asked, steadying Akira for the second time in one day, after the Shadows dissolved.

“Looks like an information/surveillance hub,” Futaba supplied.

They discussed the situation, the various places around the Palace the screens showed, and the large glowing cables that seemed to block off part of the room.

“Do you think we could get through those cables?” Akira asked.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Futaba said, glancing at the cables, then back to the screen.

“Those aren’t cables,” Rin said. “They’re tentacles.  Tentacles of Maruki’s Persona.”  For a brief moment, the room fell silent as they all considered what that might mean.

“She’s right,” Makoto said as she cautiously approached the tangle of teal and black tentacles. “They’re all the same pattern as what he summoned to hold and control Violet.”

Sumire quietly shuddered as Yusuke approached the wall near Makoto, trying to inspect them, but was yanked back by Makoto as Haru gave a very brief warning before leveled her grenade launcher at the wall-like lattice and firing.  Once the smoke cloud and the resounding bang had faded, they could all see the attack had no effect on the tentacles.

“And they don’t seem particularly vulnerable,” Haru said.

“At least not right here,” Futaba said. “Take a look here.”  She pointed to the screen she was examining, and they all looked to see a view of what looked like Mementos, but with the tendrils of Maruki’s Persona running over the train tracks near the depths.

“Is that… Mementos?” Ann asked.

“It is,” Morgana said, after hopping up on the console for a better look.

“What’s ‘Mementos’?” Sumire asked, and Makoto took her aside to quickly explain the general concept as the rest of them speculated.

“This is all somehow tied in with what he did to control reality,” Akechi said.

“Elizabeth-san confirmed that he is or was using Mementos,” Yusuke added. “I’d say we’ve found the first clue as to how he accomplished that in this security apparatus.  As for the next clue…”

“It’s gotta be at the depths,” Ryuji said. “Probably near the Prison, or what’s left of it.”

“Makes sense,” Futaba said, her attention focused on a smaller screen to the side. “It seems like all the data this surveillance system collects is being sent there.”

“Then we’ve got our next objective,” Akira said. “And I think we’re done for the day.”

The team agreed, and they exited the Metaverse, then rode the train back from Odaiba as the sun began to set.  It was a quiet trip back; no one seemed to want to speak about what they had encountered. 

Akira, Rin, and Futaba headed back home together for the night.  It was only once they exited the train in Yongen-Jaya that one of them spoke up.  “What was that thing? Those Shadows that were guarding the exit?” Futaba asked.

Akira breathed deeply. “I’m not sure.  They felt… horrifying.”

“They were like… like not understanding,” Rin said.

Akira raised an eyebrow at that expression. “As in… you didn’t understand them?”

“I don’t think any of us-” Futaba began. 

Rin cut her off, her eyebrows furrowed. “No, they felt like… ‘not understanding.’  Like, when I looked at the star sea cucumber… I felt like I do when things happen around me and I don’t know why.”  She paused, clearly thinking hard. “Like nothing made sense; that nothing ever made sense and never would.”  Her voice became very small. “I felt… stupid for thinking anything could make sense.”

“I get that,” Akira affirmed as they turned a street corner, and the sun dipped completely below the horizon.  The street lamps turned on, one by one. That was what the Shadow’s attack had felt like, in retrospect: like believing in anything was a fool’s hope. “Futaba, you said your Persona called it something else?”

Futaba’s mittened hands were clasped tightly as Akira saw her thumb rub back and forth on her wrist; a sign of tension. “It did… but I couldn’t be right,” Futaba said. “It kept calling them names from this series of old horror stories, written by this foreigner.  But they couldn’t be the weird aliens from those stories, right?”

“Well, most Shadows come from stories,” Akira acknowledged. “Most of my Personas are mythic figures.  They’re a bit distorted, but they all seem to reflect some kind of myth, or something like it.”

“I guess…” Futaba said, processing that. “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t notice that.  I just assumed that they were like… reflections of those myths, like in Discworld or Sandman or something.  The fact that we have stories about Thor made a Thor-like Shadow exist.  But those things… They didn’t feel like versions of stories… they felt… I dunno how to say it, more real?  But they aren’t real, they are just Shadows.”

“Do you think Shadows had a form before humans?” Rin asked suddenly, looking forward, not making eye contact.

Akira and Futaba glanced at each other.  Akira decided to bite; “I suppose they might have some unformed state.”

Rin didn’t respond for several seconds, and they walked in silence.  They passed Leblanc, and wordlessly decided to head to Sojiro’s house instead.  Just as Akira was about to speak, Rin continued: “This isn’t the first time people have seen Shadows.  Elizabeth said so.  But we don’t know when or how often it has happened.”

“That’s certainly true,” Akira said. “From what I understand, the Metaverse might be new, but Shadows and Personas have manifested in other ways in the past.”

“What if…” Rin began, staring straight up at the sky rendered a blank, dark gray by light pollution. “What if someone saw a Shadow a long time ago?  What if it was an unformed Shadow, and the shape it took created stories?  Would it start to look like those stories?”

“I’m… not sure, Rin,” Akira said.  It was an oddly chilling thought: Shadows inspiring their own myths.  It seemed… maddening.

“It’s a real chicken-and-egg scenario you’ve presented us,” Futaba said as she crossed the gate of her house. “I’ll be sure to sleep on that one.”

“So you’ll actually sleep and not spend all night trolling message boards?” Akira asked.

Futaba split a wide grin and snickered. “No guarantees!” She turned and headed inside.

Rin shifted in place, staring down at her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked, unprompted.

Akira was a little taken aback, but he realized why she was asking. “I’ve been through a lot, and that attack was… hard to manage,” he said. “But I should be good to go now.”

“Promise?” she asked as she turned to look him in the eye.  Her gaze was at once distant and monumental.

“I promise, Rin,” Akira responded, and surprising even himself, he believed it. “Let’s head back to the café, I’ve still got homework to do.”

The next several days are a learning experience for Rin and Akira.  Living together with someone is a new experience for Rin.  Akira tries his best to patient with her.  He respectfully averts his eyes the morning she wakes up before him and is painting with no pants, but he also helps her dress when asked.  He takes an interest in her painting, commenting on what it makes him feel, and making himself very easy to talk to.  Rin can see why he’s the leader.

She learns to eat at mealtimes, lest Boss walk up and drag her down by the ear.  He’s grumpy and gruff, but his heart is huge.  It’s nice that he makes her eat; he’s probably been through this before, judging from the way he treats Futaba.  The orange girl and Rin get along in a way Rin’s never gotten along with anyone, and it’s very strange.  Like weird magnets, they just seem to stick together.  Futaba will talk about programming and anime and databases she’s managed to hack, and Rin will talk about what she wants to put on the canvas and the sensation of being alone in the woods and how it makes her feel like a bird skeleton and somehow it doesn’t feel like they are talking past each other.

Each of the Phantom Thieves wants to talk to Akira over the next few days, so he doesn’t spend much time at the café, but each of the other Thieves finds time to drop by.

(Except Akechi, but Rin already knows why he doesn’t want to spend time around Leblanc.  At least, she thinks she knows.)

Yusuke and Ryuji stop by to waste time and ‘hang out.’ Yusuke and Rin catch up at long last in the café, as Ryuji and Futaba apparently argue about manga in Akira’s room.

“I wasn't at Kosei after Christmas,” she states as they sit in one of the booths; the only other company in the café is Boss and the old couple.

“It’s not your fault, Rin,” Yusuke replies. “It’s not like I would have been in a state to help you in the new year.”

“What happened?” Rin asks.

“Much of what I imagine happened to you at Yamaku,” he replies. “I regressed into a comforting what-if scenario.  Madarame was exactly the kind of person I thought he was… and perhaps the kind of person he wanted to be.  My mother’s art was celebrated, instead of being hidden.” He glances over at the painting of the woman on the wall.  There is something about it that was very, very familiar, but the baby in the woman’s arms seems new.

“It wasn’t all bad at Yamaku,” Rin says, trying to remember what it was like before the Velvet Room. “Even if it was not true.  I think I want to go back, when all this is over.”

Yusuke nods in understanding.  Rin doesn’t have to say why, or what for, but he understands, and Rin’s heart almost burns with how complete she is.  Ryuji interrupts them by dragging all three of them to the batting cage around the corner, insisting on some exercise for Futaba, but he’s quickly outed as having prepped way more for this when he pulls some hard shin-guards out of a bag for Rin.  Futaba and Yusuke alternately roll their eyes and chastise him, but Rin doesn’t see an issue.  Ryuji helps her strap them on and she has a go at the batting cage, trying to hit the balls with her shins after the other three go.

Ryuji’s actually not that great, but he does at least consistently hit the ball, and even gets it to hit near the target most of the time.  Futaba barely manages a single glancing blow that pops the baseball directly into the net that serves as the top of the cage.  Yusuke surprises all though, with three home runs.  It must be his experience swinging a sword, and his precise nature.  Ryuji looks a little embarrassed, but now it’s Rin’s turn.  They shift the pitching machine to aim a little lower, and she takes her five swings with the hard covers on her shins.  She misses three in a row, but manages to at least hit the fourth ball, and then she hits the target with her last pitch.  They celebrate, but Rin just wants to lie down, her legs are sore after that.

The day after that, Haru spends a quiet afternoon sorting through Rin’s paintings and watching her paint.  The red and blue continue to baffle, and the added details of ears and eyes don’t help clarify what it wants to be.  Haru spends her time quietly observing, and commenting on how visceral all her paintings are; how much she loves the screaming mouths and twisting lines.

“I was thinking, Tezuka-san,” she says. “Are these pieces for sale?  Or might I be able to commission you for a piece?  I love the raw emotion in your art.”

Rin considers the offer, her instincts warring.  It’s her art, but also that someone else loves and understands her enough to give her money… That's what an artist does, right?  It’s not like it would be the first time; her mural was at Sensei’s request, and the large red and blue portrait of the man still hangs in the hallway of Yamaku.  The Rainbow Wizard is what Sensei titled it, but Rin doesn’t want any of her works titled.  She wants people to see the art first, and feel the emotions through the canvas before any words color their reaction.  But selling it… Why not?  She’s got to move forward, learn to live in the world as it is, if she hopes to become whole.

“I would, once I graduate,” she says, drawing a fine line, metaphorically and on the canvas. “I’m just a student right now.  I wouldn’t want to inflict my homework on a high-class lady like you.”  Haru responds with a gentle laugh, and their afternoon continues peacefully.

Ann stops by the next day with snacks and cakes and sweets, which Rin doesn’t partake of.  Ann’s very chatty, but in a comforting way; she asks about Rin’s painting (she’s moved on to a radial set of arms after thinking about the weird Shadow), and drags Rin and Futaba shopping and gets some more outfits for both of them.  Rin is resentful at first, and then she remembers that she packed for a week, and she might be crashing on Akira’s couch for another three weeks.  She gets some warm pants and more toed socks for Rin, and manages to get Futaba to wear a single t-shirt that isn’t a nerdy reference, which is apparently a first.  Rin doesn’t think of her as ‘American Emi’ anymore, but Ann still acts like it, enthusiastically carting the two shorter girls from shop to shop, like Emi did at the school festival the year before Hisao arrived.  But she also knows when to stop, when both Futaba and Rin have reached their limits for the day.

Finally, Makoto spends a day at the cafe, studying quietly.  She invites Rin to study with her, and Rin briefly tries to pretend like she understands the laws Makoto is studying.  Apparently she’s going to college for a policing or law career soon.  They talk, Makoto having trouble following her in the same way Lilly always did, but Rin does think about what she’ll be doing in a year.  She’s graduating from high school in a few months.  Makoto does some research on her phone and tells her there’s a college that Kosei graduates often go to, but Rin’s not sure if that’s what she wants to do.  She wants to paint, she wants to talk, she wants to discover… but she feels like she can’t discover much new until Maruki’s world is brought down.  Maybe then, she’ll arrive at an answer.  Or not.

All the while, Akira is speaking to each of the Thieves privately, sorting out some personal issues, and also spending time with Sumire.  Rin thinks she’s doing alright, considering what she’s been through.

Rin doesn’t type much in the group chat, but she keeps up on it, so she’s not surprised when Akira schedules a trip to the ‘Mementos’ location.  The rest of the team giggles and jokes back and forth a bit about surprises when they talk about introducing Sumire and Rin to their method of transport.

As they both settle down for bed that night, Akira glances at her painting.  He is normally too exhausted to notice much of anything before he turns in for the night, but this is different.  He stared at the vortex of arms and eyes, in blues and greens and purples, with spots of red on the eyes.

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rin replies, sitting at her bedside in her pajamas. Morgana is perched on the work desk, content to listen.  Rin is surprised that he was able to understand exactly what inspired the painting.  On the one hand, the swirl of limbs and blue-green flesh bears almost no resemblance to the Shadow… on the other hand, what else could it be about?  There are a lot of things that make her feel like that painting, but the memory of the ancient hatred she felt from the Shadow makes her feel cold when she dwells on it.

“It bothers me too,” Akira says, still staring at the canvas.  Rin stares with him, and notices a few spots she wants to touch up.  Idly, she wonders if she’ll remember tomorrow. “I keep thinking about how that Shadow was apparently new, or rather part of a new wave of Shadows, and about how it was more powerful than the two that were guarding the surveillance room.”

“Do you think we’ll find more of them as we move deeper into his Palace?” Morgana asks.

“Maybe,” Akira says, looking away from the canvas, with what looks like no small amount of effort. “But I think that might have been the only one.  But I do think that other Shadows like that one will try to stop us.  I just keep thinking about how different from the others it felt… and I remember how Elizabeth said something else might be helping Maruki…”  He trails off and shakes his head. “Regardless, it’s only going to get harder.”

“Then you better get to sleep!” Morgana chastises him. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Akira chuckles and turns in for the night, but Rin finds rest harder to find.  Her mind spends the rest of the night in spiraling thoughts of what help Maruki might be getting, and what that means for the Phantom Thieves, until her eyelids slide close and she’s left in an anxious sleep.

Chapter Text

After a day to recover, the Phantom Thieves reconvened at Leblanc, with the intent of exploring the bottom of Mementos.  Makoto, ever the stickler for efficiency, pointed out that there were a few requests they could handle while they plumbed the depths.

“I’m surprised that there’re any requests at all,” Ryuji said, scrolling through the Phansite.  “Figure’d Maruki would have gotten all these desires sorted.”

“There are some things even he can’t fix,” Sumire said, her tone worried as she also scrolled through the page. “But these requests are really dire.”

“Some of it might actually precipitate from Maruki’s perfect world,” Akechi commented. “This mother who abandoned her child might be fulfilling her ideal life.  Or perhaps Maruki’s brainwashing just missed a detail or got a wire crossed in her mind.”

“Do you send calling cards for these little missions?” Rin asked, standing behind the counter and staring up at the jars of coffee beans.

“No,” Haru explained. “Futaba-chan usually just messages the target in the real world.  We found that method simpler and just as effective, provided they don’t have a Palace.”

“Then Chika was right,” Rin said, turning back to the group.

“Your friend?” Yusuke asked.

Rin nodded. “She said that a bunch of people claimed they got a calling card after posting on the internet.  She didn’t believe any of them.”

“Wait…” Ryuji said, leaning back in the booth, staring at the ceiling. “Does this Chika go to Kosei?”  

“Yes,” Rin answered. “She’s a super-Phangirl.  Runs the school newspaper.  Or maybe she did.  I haven’t been able to check in Maruki's world.”

“Is she datin’ a Shujin boy with short black hair?” Ryuji asked.

Rin thought for a moment. “Yes.  They met in Hawaii.”

“Huh.  And here I thought Mishima was just lyin’,” Ryuji said, then explained: “He said he had a girlfriend he was spendin’ Christmas with when I texted him, and I called him out, but he said she was a Kosei student, and a Phangirl.  I just kinda figured he made’er up.  I was going to ask Yusuke about it, but then we got all caught up in this bullshit.”

“Mishima with a girlfriend…” Ann mused. “I guess the world is just full of surprises.”

“I think we should get going, if you’re all quite done gossiping,” Akechi said, a familiar venom in his voice.  Akira reluctantly agreed, and they gathered their things and took the train to Shibuya, then passed into the Metaverse and down into Mementos proper.  They all gave Rin and Sumire a run-down of Mementos, and answered the odd question that followed.  Akira gave a nod to Lavenza, who stood by the door to the Velvet Room, still invisible to the others.  They noted the gray, metallic strands that snaked across the ceiling, so similar to what they had seen in Maruki’s lab.

“That has to be the good doctor’s work,” Yusuke said, gesturing up as they all sorted out items and equipment.

“It’s certainly new,” Haru commented. “Oracle, can you scan it?”

Futaba looked all across the pattern of material, her goggles humming slightly.  “Nothing special.  Whatever he’s doing with this, we’re so far away that my Persona can’t pick up anything.  If we follow them deeper, we might get some clues.”

“Well, they will probably lead back to the Prison, if what he told Witch is true,” Ann said.

They finished their preparations, and Morgana was eager to show the two newcomers his amazing transformation, but when he bounced to the ground in van form, neither seemed that surprised or enthused.

“Really?  Nothing?” Morgana whined at Sumire’s quiet ‘Oh,’ and Rin’s stone-faced reaction.

“With everything that’s happened, and everything we’ve seen, I guess a talking cat turning into a talking automobile just isn’t surprising,” Sumire admitted.  Morgana moaned his disappointment.

Rin was quiet, her eyes squinting behind her mask.  “Does the air conditioning smell like cat breath?” she asked, finally.

“Wha- No!” Morgana protested.

“A little bit, if we drive for too long,” Makoto added.

“Are the seat cat fur or cat tongue texture?” Rin continued.

The headlights that served as Van-gana’s eyes bulged, and the purring engine seemed to sputter before he responded.  “Gross!  They’re fine leather, I’ll have you know.”

“It’s not fine at all,” Yusuke commented. “It's passable, at best.”

Rin didn’t seem to notice, and continued her barrage of questions: “Do you have to eat or fuel up?  How does your exhaust work?”

“It just works, okay?!” Morgana shouted back, becoming increasingly flustered.

“Do you get hairballs in your engine?” Sumire asked, joining the inquiry.

“Just get in!” Morgana huffed, rearing up back, then back down on his front tires, as if putting a foot down. “Jeez.”

They all piled in, only to find it cramped with their two new members.  Eventually, Makoto opted to step out of the van, and ride on her Persona, which was newly awakened into the vehicle Agnes.  Akira took Morgana’s wheel, and the two of them descended into the depths.  

After a few minutes of driving and some light banter made awkward by the cramped interior, the Thieves arrived at the entrance to what used to be the Prison of Regression.  The gray metallic threads had been woven into the fabric of Mementos, and they had grown thicker as they descended, eventually looking more like roots of a plant.  They passed the enormous black stone slabs that marked the beginning of the Prison and disembarked from their modes of transport.  The area beyond the entrance was no longer an overwhelming red, but a pale blue color; not at all dissimilar to Maruki’s laboratory.  They found the panopticon-like temple not far from the entrance.  Instead of the veins of red desire and an enormous red chalice, the space was now filled with cables and wires; with massive lenses and blue floodlights.

“I think we can safely assume Doctor Maruki is behind this change,” Makoto said as she gazed about at the lines of neon cyan and reflective metal that criss-crossed the space.  Akira looked up the thread of gold woven into sheets of wires and fiber-optics that held camera lenses the size of large trucks above them, each shifting its internal mechanism in a way that made Akira feel distinctly… observed.

They scaled the root-tentacle-cables down the space, past the now-empty cells, to the floor of the space.  A massive pillar of neon cables rose from the floor, then split apart into separate, glowing streams of energy, bounced between hexagonal plates and leading away from the entrance, to a new hallway at the back.

“This is almost certainly the ‘lynchpin’ Lady Elizabeth mentioned,” Morgana said as they approached.

Akira was shocked by the transformation the space had endured.  He recognized most of it, including the plaques on the ground with the Latin names of the deadly sins on them.  They had fought the Holy Grail here. They had defeated Yaldabaoth here, in a way.

Akira looked at the structure that had been created… or perhaps grown?  It struck him that this was a particularly powerful location: the nexus of thought in Tokyo.  From what Elizabeth had said, they were not the first to fight a mysteriously powerful cognitive being.  This space had either been created by the Holy Grail or had created the Grail in turn, and now Maruki had been drawn to it by his own Persona, if Rin had interpreted his words correctly.  What other beings might it draw from the Sea of Souls or beyond?

“So all the threads he wove through Mementos are anchored here?” Yusuke asked, glancing about.  

“Not quite, Inari,” Futaba corrected, scanning the mass of cables and metallic mesh. “It’s the other way around.  They don’t converge here; this is where they begin: the stuff we’ve seen all around Mementos starts here and spreads like roots.”

“This must be what he made on Christmas,” Rin said, staring up at the space, her eyes lazily following the glowing lines of the cables.

Ryuji wandered closer and gave the cables a smack with his bat, to no effect. “Doesn’t seem like we can cut it off here,” he said.

“It all looks really similar to his Persona,” Ann said. “If he created this, it makes sense.”

“Meaning we probably have to deal with Maruki to get rid of it and separate the two dimensions,” Akechi added.

“It seems that he may have expanded the space since we were last here,” Haru said, having walked to the side.  She gestured to the hole in the wall where the lines of energy were directed out, there were a series of escalators out of the space now. They all circled the central structure with her and approached the dark moving stairs.  “I doubt the escalators were something the Holy Grail decided to include.”

“You never know,” Rin said, as they stepped on the moving stairs and traveled beyond the panopticon.  The area behind that looked like another floor of Mementos, but… infused with Maruki’s Palace.  The subtle white glow, the posters talking about happiness, the blue-veined metal roots burrowed into the ceiling.  The Metanav buzzed in Akira’s pocket and notified him of the new area they had uncovered as they did, and a massive new section appeared on the map, one that had them ascending, but on a new path, parallel to the original descent.

“And having reached the bottom of the Inferno, we must climb our way to Purgatorio,” Akechi commented.  From the looks other Thieves gave, it seemed only Makoto, Yusuke and Akira had understood his reference to Dante’s work, but Akira’s rebuttal was cut off as a toy car honked its way up the escalator, trailing balloons.  The tiny Jose waved at each of them, driving his one-child car.

“Hello, Jose,” Ann greeted with a wave.

“Oh, hello,” he commented to the Thieves. “Are you exploring this new area too?”

“We have some business here,” Akira said, glancing over to see Sumire utterly lost, and Rin tilting her head. “Have you been following us, Jose?”

“No, but I thought it might be a good idea to try this area’s new flowers,” he said. “I’ll see you later!”  He honked the car’s toy-like horn again, then sped off down the train tracks.

“Anything else I need to know about this crazy place?” Sumire asked. “This is so weird, it’s like Alice and Wonderland,”

“Alice in Wonderland,” Akechi corrected. “The mental world is bound to not make sense from our rational perspective.  That child is no stranger than any Shadow.”

“Why does he have yellow eyes like Elizabeth and Margaret?” Rin asked, to which Akira simply shrugged.

“I don’t really think it’s any of our business,” Akira said.  Rin seemed to accept that, and they set off into the new layer of Mementos that the Metanav had labeled the “Path of Da’at.”

They found the targets of the requests with relative ease and handled them.  As they ascended the floors of the path, the Shadows grew more and more powerful, each battle chipping away at their resources.  New, strange Shadows appeared; not just the ones from Maruki’s Palace and the Qliphoth World, but others; ones that had no interest in negotiation.  There were pairs of Obsidian Gargoyles with unnaturally long arms and no faces that hovered in midair, along with bright red crustaceans with wings that Al Azif called Crimson Fungoides.  They each had odd, bizarrely powerful attacks that caught the Thieves off-guard, but the hardest fight was the pack of five dog-like Shadows they fought close to the top, each called Canine of Corners.   They were oddly immaterial creatures, each with a long, bladed tongue and their solid outlines trailing away into geometric, fractal smoke.

They stopped to rest on an empty floor right before the end.  Akira passed out snacks, coffee and medical supplies.  The climb had been pretty taxing.

“What’s with these new Shadows that don’t wanna talk?” Ann asked as she helped Rin with an energy drink.

“They all feel like those bizarre things we fought in the warehouse,” Haru commented.  Akira shared a brief glance with Rin, neither wanting to bring up that they had discussed this exact scenario.  

They packed their snacks and moved on.  The further they moved into the Path of Da’at, the more Mementos resembled Maruki’s lab.  Eventually, following one final set of escalators, the Thieves found themselves in a large, metallic room.  Glowing cables snaked back and forth across the floor, all feeding into a large glass tube that rose all the way to the extremely high ceiling.  There were futuristic workstations all around, each with a holographic screen that showed some part of Mementos.  The group surmised that they had reached the heart of Maruki’s data-gathering effort.  Futaba rushed over to try and hack into the system, while the rest of the group stood around, discussing the various places displayed on the screens around the area.

There was only so much space to crowd their hacker, so Akira stepped away and saw Sumire and Rin sitting on the console nearby.

“Can I ask you something Ri- I mean Witch-senpai?” Sumire said.  Neither faced each other, but they leaned against each other.

“You can ask me anything,” Rin responded. “But I only have so many answers in me.”

“Did… what let you resist Doctor Maruki?” Sumire asked. “I heard about how he tried to… ‘actualize’ you, but it didn’t work.”  Rin didn’t immediately respond, so Sumire continued: “I just want to know, because he did that to me and made me think I was my sister.  I want to… avoid it in the future.”

“I think having a Persona will protect you,” Rin said. “And if you know what he is doing, then it probably won’t work.”

“But even so,” Sumire muttered. “How did you avoid it?”

“I was…” Rin began, then faltered.  “I don’t think I did.  I think I would have fallen for it, if my other self did not fight back.  I was lost, confused, disappointed, and the Phantom Thieves were trying to help me.  Because of that, the other part of my heart refused to accept what he wanted me to believe.  I think… knowing people is the key.”

“I see,” Sumire said, clearly disheartened that Rin couldn’t provide a more concrete answer.

“I think that expectations matter,” Rin added, and Sumire looked over at her, surprised. “I had a lot of people telling me what I should be doing, what was right and what was bad.  And I’ve had those people around me for a long time.” Akira sensed that Rin may have brushed right up against Sumire’s insecurities, intentionally or not. 

“It's not bad for people to want things of me, because I want things from me.  Sometimes it’s things I’ll never get, like a color that says ‘please step away before I scream, but I still like you.’  But other times, I want things from me, things I can provide, even if it's hard.  So they can want me to do things.  But when all of them want the same thing, or say they want the same thing, it can be really hard.”

“I understand what you mean,” Sumire responded, and there was something so… vulnerable in the way Rin turned to look at Sumire. “A lot of people told me what they were expecting when I hit a roadblock in my gymnastics, but looking back on it, it wasn’t actually that many other people.  A lot of it was me, projecting.  I wasn’t satisfied with myself, and I just assumed that everyone else held those same expectations.  It was… confusing.  But I think I’ve sorted it out.  Or, at least, begun to sort it out.”

“You’re a gymnast?” Rin asked. “Like, backflips and splits and ribbons and things like that?”

Sumire chuckled. “Among other things.  Are you interested in gymanstics?”

Rin looked back down at her sandaled feet. “I don’t know.  No one has ever asked me.  Dancing and leaping sounds a lot like painting, but it also sounds like talking.  Talking with your body and jumping.  I’m bad at talking.  I don’t think I’d be good at it.”

“You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it, Witch-senpai,” Sumire said, placing her hand on her shoulder.  “I’m only kind of okay at cooking, but I still like to make my own lunches and try new recipes.  You’ve got to try lots of things.”

Rin stared down at her knees for a long moment. “There are things that I do want to try.  Like cooking and stargazing.  But I also want to try something new in battle, and I want to try it with you, Violet.” Rin looked up at Sumire.

“Me?” she asked.

“I saw that combo attack that Queen and Skull had, and I want to try something like that.  I think you’d be really good for it,” Rin said. “Maybe.”

“We’ll I’m ready to try anything if it helps us fight,” Sumire said, smiling.  Rin explained her idea to Sumire, and Sumire gave feedback, made suggestions and asked Rin if they should pose at the end.  As he listened, Akira noticed a warmth in his coat pocket.  He pulled out the crystal star Jose had given them, and found it was shining bright and warm.  He pocketed it again, sure the Showtime attack that the two of them were formulating would impress.

Their duo-attack planned, Rin and Violet burn another minute or so chatting, before a loud noise catches everyone’s attention.  The pillar of cables that rises from the back of the room is lowering, and the console Oracle is working on is making noises.  The rest of the Thieves discuss how changing this will open a path back in Maruki’s Palace, but something else catches Rin’s attention.  

There’s another noise in the room, behind the hum of the computers.  It’s small, but the high ceiling is dark and it makes things echo strangely.  Rin can hear something that sounds like… metal moving.  It’s a tiny sound, but Rin can just barely make it out.  She searches the room above them.

“Witch-senpai?  What is it?” Violet asks.

First of all… “Just say Witch,” Rin says offhandedly.  There’s something hidden in the rafters of this room, where cables run back and forth into a loose web of neon blue, like an unraveling sweater.  The darkness is thick…

“Okay, Witch,” Violet responds. “Is there something up there?”

Rin doesn’t respond for a long moment.  She shuts out the noise of the Thieves’ conversation and tries to focus…  It’s right… right…

There.

Rin can see a dark shape perched on one of the rafters, a loose cable swaying nearby, brushing the metal and making a noise.  Rin can’t tell what it is… it looks almost bird or bat-like.

“You have a rifle, right Violet?” Rin askes, her voice low and serious.

“Yes,” she responds quickly, picking up the situation.  “Is it a Shadow?”

“I don’t know,” Rin responds. “But it's just past that dangling cable, right on the cross-beam.  It’s close to the entrance.”

Violet squints up at the darkness for a moment before her eyes widen behind her black mask. “I see it.”  She casually draws her rifle, trying not to be too obvious about it. “Should I take a shot?”

Rin’s not sure.  There is so much in the Metaverse she doesn’t know about.  Before now, she would have said yes, but after seeing little Jose, she’s not sure.  What if whatever it is is just concerned?  But then again, this place is Maruki’s doing.  It has to be some kind of security measure.  Or maybe a cognitive hitman.  Or a monster.

“Keep more than one eye on it,” Rin says as she rises and approaches Joker.  She tries to make her face say, ‘there is something I need to talk about quietly,’ but her mask makes that hard.  Joker catches on that something is up, and ducks away from the group, who are now debating something else.

“What’s up, Witch?” he says under his breath.

“There’s something in the rafters, watching us,” she whispers. “Violet is watching it.  Do we shoot it?”

Joker stiffens at her mention of the shape, but doesn’t wildly look around.  His gaze goes distant for but a moment before he responds.  “I don’t want to attack something just for observing us, but I don’t want it ambushing us as we leave.  I’ll grab a fourth person, and we’ll form a frontline with you and Violet.  Tell her to fire a warning shot on my signal.”

Rin nods and moves to relay the information to Violet, and they wait.  A minute or so later, Joker whistles loudly, and Violet snaps her lever-action at the shape, intentionally aiming down and to the side of the shape and firing a shot.  It rings out in the darkness, and the shape darts away, down to the floor.  It’s large, much larger than Rin thought, being a nearly four-meter tall humanoid shape.  It has large bat wings, with gray skin.  But the form of it is oddly familiar to Rin…

It rises to its full height, bat wings unfurled and Rin recognizes her.  It’s the Servant of the One, the angel-Shadow she fought on Christmas Eve, the one that commanded angel-Shadows on behalf of the God of Control.  But she’s different now.  Her previous rich brown skin is now an ashen gray, with her golden hair and armor have been turned black.  Her feathery white wings are now black and bat-like, with red skin on the inside.  The transformation is completed by a long, black tail that ends in an arrowhead-like shape.

The shift in tone is obvious to Rin.  She remembers that Shadows can never really be killed, but what would cause this Shadow to change so?  Sure not a simple defeat… right?

“You are far more observant than I anticipated,” she says, drawing herself up and staring down at the Thieves.  Her sword-lance is gone, but her dark form seems to crackle with power now.  Rin doesn’t know Shadows the way Oracle does, but even she can tell that this new version of her is far more dangerous, even without the army of angel-Shadows behind her.

“It’s a Shadow all right,” Oracle calls out from behind them as Joker and Queen step forward to join Witch and Violet.

“We mean you no harm,” Joker says. “Let us pass.”

“But you mean to harm the designs of my master,” the Shadow says. “I am here to put a stop to you and yours.  Nothing can threaten my master’s world.”

“You already failed your master,” Rin calls out. “I beat you before, and I’ll do it again now that I’ve got… friends.”

The others are surprised that she speaks up, that much is obvious.  But Rin has to understand what happened to this angel.  She was blindly devoted and arrogant, but she believed in a better world, even if she couldn't argue for it well.  At least, that’s what Rin thinks she was.

The Shadow turns to look at Rin.  “Ah, the heretic,” she says, her voice coldly familiar.  “I almost didn’t recognize you.  You and yours may have defeated me before, but in my defeat, you showed me the path to victory.  My lord has lost, but his divine work carries on.  I will uphold his wish for a new world for humanity, even if I must forsake his precepts and truck with vile forces to see it done.  But my perseverance has been rewarded: they have bestowed upon me a boon.”

The Shadow’s head shudders in place, her expression suddenly blank, her now-red eyes dead.  Her head twists and shakes in place, before a line of black oil runs down her face in a perfect vertical line, from the crown of her head to the bottom of her neck.  Then, her head splits apart in a gruesome black spray, the two halves of her face falling lifeless to rest on her shoulders., and a new head emerges from between.  It is not remotely human, with black skin, glowing red eyes and sharp teeth, capped by large, curling horns that shimmer with red energy.

The literalization of her as a fallen angel is so perfect, it almost makes Rin sad.

“Only in breaking the laws of my Lord can they be upheld.  I will not rest so long as a threat to his perfect world remains!” she shouts, and the battle begins.  Oracle retreats back into her Persona, and labels the Shadow the Fallen Servant.

She opens the battle with a barrage of curse magic.  Joker and Rin resist it, and it doesn’t do much to Queen, but Rin's worries over Violet are unfounded, as she back-flips away from the inky blast.

The battle is tough.  Somewhat predictably, the new Shadow is weak to bless attacks, but she also keeps fortifying herself with an effect like what Doctor Maruki used on her when they parted on Christmas Eve.  Oracle calls it ‘Heat Riser.’ The Fallen Servant lunges at Queen, projecting a spray of red energy that knocks her over.  From there, it turns and repeats the same attack at Rin.

It feels like being hit by a car.  Rin is pretty sure she feels her ribs crack as she is sent reeling, but she only falls to one knee, then gets back up.  Something feels warm on her chest, and she guesses that she’s probably bleeding.  This ferocity, it was present in the Shadow before, but now it’s unshackled.  Oracle is able to heal the party, and Joker and Queen set to work removing the buff the Shadow put on herself and using Queen’s new Checkmate skill to keep the Shadow weakened.  It takes up a lot of time, but they need to keep sapping the strength of the Shadow, lest she blast them with more empowered attacks.

Rin keeps Artemisia as her Persona.  Her curse attacks are not useful here, but resisting the curse blasts is much better than trying to avoid the blasts with Giordano.  At least Artemisia is a physically powerful Persona.  Violet’s bless spells let them get a fair amount of offense in, and the rest of the back line is able to provide some fire support.  Some.  Mostly they’re scrambling about, trying to avoid stray attacks in the cramped space.  The Fallen Servant rises into the air, and unleashes a rapid-fire barrage of curse blasts that scatter all about the room, damaging consoles and forcing the rest of the team to find cover.  Queen is able to raise their defense, which takes some of the pressure off, and Noir is able to hit their tag-team double elbow drop on the Fallen Servant, which helps weaken it.

The Shadow roars as the battle draws itself out.  “You cannot resist the divine plan!  Cease this pointless resistance!”

Rin smiles to herself as she side-steps a blast of wind magic from the Shadow.  She talks just like before.  Her good mood is banished as the Shadow follows up with a spray of icicles at the Thieves, which knocks Rin back, tumbling head over heels as Artemisia’s ice weakness is exposed.  The Fallen Servant uses the opening to use Heat Riser on herself again, forcing Joker and Queen to deal with it.

Violet dashes to Rin’s side and helps her up.  “That thing is almost down, but we can’t seem to finish it,” she says.

Rin looks at the Shadow.  Last time, the gun store man had distracted her before Rin was able to finish it.  Now it’s focused on Joker and Queen, as well as Crow, who jumps in to assist before retreating.  Another combination attack… that might do the trick.  Rin knows just what to do.

“Violet, let’s finish her,” Rin says. “With that attack.”

Violet smiles behind her mask. “Got it!” she says, then rushes forward.  Rin catches Joker’s eye and he nods, a smirk on his face.  Somehow, he knows what they’re going to try.

Violet lunges past the Fallen Servant, and as they begin their attack, Rin lets her imagination run wild.  Violet’s rapier thrusts become an acrobatic gymnastics routine, and Rin mirrors her attacks with strokes of dark paint on an imaginary canvas.  Together, they collaborate, Violet with her sword and Rin with her brush: left, right, up, down and around. 

"Be blinded by the light!" Violet says, the silvery shine on her rapier glinting.  The enemy, dazed and reeling from Violet’s flurry is left stunned, and as Violet retreats, Rin spins her canvas around to face them. 

"And swallowed by the darkness," Rin says.  From within the painted recreation of Violet’s movements, a dark shape leaps off the canvas.  A figure not unlike a shadow of Violet runs the enemy straight through, then explodes in a blast of almighty energy.  In her mind's eye, they pose in front of the enemy as it explodes, Violet tall and graceful; Rin low to the ground like a ninja.

Rin returns to herself.  Whatever it looked like from the outside, the attack was a success, and the Fallen Servant is down to one knee, her form beginning to flake apart.  She’s already destroyed, she just doesn’t know it yet.

“Why?” she asks.  Her glowing red are unchanged, but her voice betrays a despair deeper than Rin thought a Shadow could have. “Why have I failed?  What sin have I committed?  What unforgiven transgression bars me from success?  What about the world humanity wants is so wrong?”

The Phantom Thieves slowly climb out of the wreckage of the room, mostly keeping their distance as the Shadow dissolves.

Rin feels something needs to be said to her before she disappears, so she says something.  “What people want and what they need are different.”

The Fallen Servant glances at Rin, then hangs her head as she is destroyed a second time.

There are sighs of relief, cheers, a hug from Oracle and Violet that Rin can’t bring herself to avoid, compliments on their “Showtime” attack, and questions from everyone about how Rin knew that Shadow.  Crow suggests they discuss it on the way out, and Rin agrees with him.  She’s tired.

She wants to ask Joker why the Shadow was so different now, but she’s pretty sure she knows.  It has to be something Maruki did… right?

Nyarlathotep scowls as he watches the troupe of Persona-users return to the physical world.

From high atop one of the buildings surrounding Shibuya Crossing, he observes them while wearing an old disguise: the one of a man in a red suit and long gray hair.  His own kin had failed to stop them, so he had resorted to empowering another Shadow, one who had previously been in the service of the God of Control.  She was so eager for a second chance, and he had twisted her devotion and directed it towards the doctor’s world.  But even after all the power he had infused into her, she had still been struck down.

Nyarlathotep seethes.  He is approaching the extent of its diminished abilities.  He cannot confront them directly, that would bring down far greater forces on his head.  Whatever his next step is, he needs to hurry.  Even this transgression may have been too much, too soon.  He needs to avoid the attention of his opposite, and in his weakened state, he is no match for Philemon’s tools.  If he-

“There you are.”

Nyarlathotep's plans come to a sudden stop as he hears the voice behind him.  No, no, this is not the end.  There is always a path, always a line to follow.  Even those who rule over power can be tempted, after all.  He turns to see which of them has tracked him down.  The man suddenly sharing the rooftop with him is tall, with platinum hair slicked back under a blue cap.  He is dressed in a blue outfit reminiscent of an elevator attendant’s, a thick tome with a mauve cover held in his arm.

“You evaded us for some time,” he says, his yellow eyes staring into Nyarlathotep’s illusory ones. “But you must leave.  You were defeated and banished.  Your interference is unwelcome.”

“You’re not looking at this right, attendant,” Nyarlathotep says.  “You’re not thinking of the possibilities.”

“There are no possi-” the man begins, waving a hand.

“You could bring her back,” Nyarlathotep says. 

The man freezes.

“Oh yes, Theodore, I know about her”, he continues, sensing opportunity. “I know your sister left her duties when she lost him, but you chose to stay when you lost her.  It’s not fair, is it?  But here… here you can be rewarded for your diligence.  In this world, humans’ hearts are being mended and even the dead may live again.  She could return.”  The man called Theodore takes a step closer as Nyarlathotep continues: “The barrier between desire and reality has never been weaker.  If you stay your hand and keep this world in place, we can make everything just like it was, Theodore.  You and I, we can save her.”

“And what would you know about her?” Theodore asks, his voice low and dangerous.  He waves his hand, and Nyarlathotep’s human guise falls away.  Where the red-suited man with a monocle stood, now there is a thin humanoid with black, stone-like skin.  It has no hands or feet, only sharp claws at the end of its spindly limbs.  Small red wings spread out behind it, motionless as it floats just off the roof.  There is no face on its head, but black orbs set all around its head are surmounted by a golden crown made of endless spines.

“You are the darkness of the human heart manifested,” Theodore says. “You misjudged their potential when you thought humanity would destroy itself, because to imagine otherwise is to disprove your own existence.  Because of that, you have failed to grasp why she made the choices she did, because you cannot understand sacrifice.  You are selfishness, greed, spite, nihilism and misery given form.  Nothing more.”

“You cannot destroy me,” the mouthless creature says, its voice calmer, more accepting.  It knows what comes next. “I am undeniably part of the human heart.  I am eternal.  Where there is darkness, there are Shadows.”

“And to the shadows you shall return,” Theodore says, opening the book in his arms.  “You do not belong in this world.”  He thrusts his hand forward, and the crowned creature disappears in a flash.

His quarry finally banished back to beyond the world of humanity, Theodore sighs deeply.  He closes the tome in his hand and looks over the edge of the roof, to the busy street below, where humanity remains enthralled.  Shutting the Crawling Chaos out of the world won’t undo the damage he has done, but now he can do no more.

Theodore feels his arms grow weak.  This reality has already worn him down, he can’t handle much more of it.  He needs to return to his master and report.  Then he and his sisters can return to their duties.  

The fate of the world falls to a group of young Persona-users yet again.  Perhaps that is how it is meant to be.

Wearily, Theodore opens a door back to the Velvet Room, and disappears.

Chapter Text

A few days later, the infiltration of Maruki’s Palace recommenced.  The Thieves returned to the data control room to find their way cleared.  As Futaba had hypothesized, disabling the Mementos side of the operation had removed the obstacle in the Palace.  As they proceeded, the Palace became more and more of a medical establishment.  In a small records room, they found a file of what appeared to be part of Maruki’s journal.  It shed light on their opponent, mainly in why he had chosen February 3rd as the date he would actualize the world: it was the birthday of his fiancé, Rumi.

“He mentioned her once,” Akira said, recalling their time together. “But he said that she wasn’t around anymore…”

“He keeps talking about how nervous he was to meet her parents,” Ann said, leafing through the paper. “It seems… ominous.”

“He said he loved someone.  That…” Rin offered, then paused, thinking hard. “That he… couldn’t be with her if he wanted her to be happy…”

Akira sighed.  He didn’t want to broach someone else’s private matters, even if they were working against him, but he supposed the time for discretion was long past.

“She… was assaulted, and her parents were killed in front of her,” Akira explained, wincing. “Maruki said she had a mental breakdown from the stress of it.”

Each of the Thieves reacted with a measure of shock or sadness, all except Akechi and Rin.  Akechi shook his head, and Rin looked away.

“That certainly explains his interest in counseling and therapy,” Haru commented. “He probably started studying it after that happened.”

They moved on, until they found a door protected by a password, which forced them to scrounge for clues.  They found another records room, one that was in much more disarray, with files scattered over the floor and boxes piled high. An old, flickering television with a VCR in the corner filled the room with yellow light.  They debated what to do before Akechi scoffed and pushed the tape next to the television into the VCR.

“These have gotta be Doc’s memories, right?” Ryuji asked as the device warmed up. “The records and stuff of the mind, yeah?”

The screen came to life and they all crowded around the display, trying to see or hear what it showed.  The scene showed Maruki talking to a woman he called Rumi.  She had short brown hair, and was reclined in a hospital bed.  The room seemed to be a medical facility of some kind.  Maruki talked at length about his work, and asked her how she was, but she refused to respond.  She stared into space, her eyes unfocused. Maruki talked of her favorite snacks and flowers, but she simply continued to lay in the bed, not looking at him.  She seemed to blink at certain phrases, but otherwise seemed oblivious to the world.

“That’s his fiancé,” Yusuke said as confirmation.

“She doesn’t quite look like she’s in a coma…” Ann said. “What’s going on?”

“Her trauma must have left her catatonic,” Akechi remarked.

The memory took a turn as Maruki mentioned that they had ‘caught the culprit.’  Rumi seemed to stir ever so slightly, but then returned to her blank stare.  Maruki continued to talk about his research in cognitive psience, how it could be used to alter perception of the world, and possibly even prevent crime.

“He’s just venting at her,” Morgana said. “Who knows if she can even hear him.”

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” Rin said. “Being someone’s listening friend can help.  But it can also hurt.”

Rin was shortly proven right, as Rumi began to stir in the memory, slowly at first, but soon she was screaming, pleading to have her family back as tears streamed down her cheeks.  All of them were watching the screen with trepidation, the mood in the records room one of unease.  Her last words before the medical staff managed to calm her down was that she just wanted to forget.

“I think I can see where this is going,” Makoto said, her voice dark.

In the memory, Maruki winced and the view blurred as an echoing voice spoke, too faint to hear.  He sat with her, mulling her last words before slipping back into her catatonia.

“Forget…” Maruki muttered on the screen. “That’s right… if a subject’s cognition is altered -if their heart is changed- then the trauma associated may be erased!”

The echoing voice returned, and spoke to Maruki of power over thought and reality.  Maruki accepted the voice, called to it, and took Rumi’s hand.  The screen blurred, flickered, and then resolved back into clarity.  Rumi now looked at Maruki clearly, but with no emotion in her gaze.  She spoke about how her parents had died when she was young, and she didn’t recognize him at all.  Maruki looked pained and conflicted, but slowly settled his face.

“I’m sorry, my girlfriend’s name is also Rumi,” he lied. “I had the wrong room.”

Akira felt his gut twist as he could see how this connected to everything.  In the memory Rumi expressed an interest in meeting and speaking with Maruki further, but he declined and then took his leave of the room and her life.  There the tape ended, leaving only static.

Akira glanced over at Sumire, who looked to be very carefully keeping her expression neutral, but her face was white just behind her mask. “It’s just like what he did to me,” she said, her heavy tone betraying her forced calm.

“I think we can assume this is the first time he used his power of ‘actualization,’” Makoto said.

“But what was that voice?” Ann asked. “The echoing one asking him to ‘use’ it?”

“I’ve seen a lot of them at this point, so I think it’s pretty clearly a Persona awakening,” Akira said.  He had seen almost all of his teammates awaken one, and it certainly followed a similar pattern, with one major exception…

“I thought that too,” Ryuji said. “But in the real world though?  That seems completely crazy.  All of us were in the Metaverse.”

“If I’ve learned one thing about the Metaverse over the last year, it’s that anything’s possible,” Morgana said.

“It’s not too weird,” Futaba said, wagging a finger. “Noir had a partial awakening, and even Violet had something similar.”

“It’s true,” Haru said. “Before I fully awakened Milady, my Persona was just an indistinct mass of psychic energy.”

“When I met him on Christmas Eve, he said he didn’t know what his power was,” Rin added.

“Even then, those were still in the Metaverse itself,” Yusuke pointed out. “To awaken to a Persona in the real world seems… extraordinary.”

“Maybe not,” Akira said, stroking his chin. He recalled the vision of Arsène he had seen on his first day in Tokyo.  It hadn’t made much sense to him… until now. “The God of Control apparently selected Crow and I as part of its scheme, and gave us the Metanav.  What if…” he paused. “What if something could do more?”

“Lady Elizabeth did mention other threats,” Morgana said. “Are you saying that something else gave Maruki these powers?  Even gave him a Persona?”

“Maybe,” Akira said.  He didn’t like contemplating what could do that…

“Regardless, I think we've found our password, seeing as this tape was important enough to leave easily available,” Akechi said. “Let’s keep moving.”

They passed through the password protected door and moved on.  The rooms of the Palace moved from laboratory to upscale office building, all sleek, pearly white walls and glass cubicles with Shadow researchers stalking the otherwise empty halls.

“You’d imagine they’d all be helping with the research, but they just sort of move around,” Sumire commented as they peered around the corner of an office area. “They’ve got clipboards and labcoats… they’re certainly not dressed as guards.”

“Shadows aren’t exactly experts on human behavior,” Morgana said. “They just sort of grasp for what seems appropriate for their surroundings.”

They dealt with the Shadows and eventually found their way to another records room, with almost the same set up.  Yusuke leafed through a stack of notes and shared what was written, mostly Maruki’s speculation on what the voice that had spoken to him was, and him resolving to test and experiment with his power, for the sake of his former fiancé. 

“When Captain Kidd spoke to me, I just sorta ‘got’ what a Persona was,” Ryuji commented. “I guess it was just being in the Metaverse… and seein’ other people with one made it make sense?”

“Context helped me understand,” Makoto said. “After seeing all of you fight, I wasn’t confused at all when Johanna spoke to me.  But if such a thing had happened as it appeared to in Maruki’s memory… I would probably be rather confused as well.”

Akira placed the videotape that was on the table into the VCR and they watched another memory.  This one contained a scene of Maruki drinking at a restaurant with his friend, Shibusawa, who Akira recognized from their encounter at the Wilton.  Maruki complained about his research into cognitive psience being shut down, and about a laboratory in Odaiba not being constructed, that a stadium was being built in its place.

“Ah, it all begins to make sense,” Morgana said. “The reason his Palace is here is that this is where his lab should have been, in his mind at least.”

“But why was the funding pulled?” Ann asked.

“Probably Shido,” Futaba said. “After he got total control of my mom’s research, he probably shut down any other research into cognitive psience, to keep the existence of the cognitive world a secret.  Does that make sense to you, Crow?” she added, her voice flat at the end.

“It does,” Akechi simply said.

As if following their conversation, Shibusawa and Maruki speculated about the cause of the halt in their research in the memory.  Maruki seemed to briefly consider ‘a conspiracy’ as a cause, before dismissing that theory for lack of evidence.  The scene jumped through static, to Maruki, drunk and alone at that same table, making his vow to Rumi that he would do whatever it took to save people from their pain.

“I guess he really wanted to help people, even after his funding was pulled,” Sumire said, as the tape ended and was ejected. “It must have been his dream…”

Akechi scoffed. “How noble of him,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “His dream is incompatible with the real world.  Don’t sympathize with the man we’re targeting.”

“We’re not going to stop working to stop him,” Rin said. “But maybe if we learn enough, we can do it with words.”

They moved on, into the next area.  The office decor shifted into a reception-like atmosphere as they entered the “Exam Area.”  Cognitive patients passed through a series of rooms as they answered questions about themselves under the watchful eyes of the Shadows.

Maruki’s magnanimous nature manifested here again, as the Shadows wished only to ‘help,’ and let the Thieves pass through the testing room, as long as they took the exam.  What followed was a confusing mess of answering moral dilemmas and personal questions, as the group was shunted from room to room, each question strangely worded and ambiguous in what it wanted.  Only by pooling their thoughts were they able to discover the path through the test, by trying to anticipate what answers Maruki wanted from them.  Taken as a whole once they were out of the test, Maruki appeared to want people to be conflict avoidant, irresolute, and generally weak-willed, but also willing to change the hearts of others.  It was exhausting to try and figure it out, and the nightmarish “counseling” they saw did nothing to lighten the mood.  The exit was passcode protected again, and so they moved to try and discover more of Maruki’s past.

They found another record room as a Shadow left it.  After defeating it with the Showtime attack that Sumire and Rin’s made, it left behind two videotapes: one labeled “Experiment 1” with a green circle, and the other “Experiment 2” with a red X.

“Two tapes this time?” Ryuji said as he picked them up.

“Best to get watching then,” Akechi said, plucking them out of his hands and placing the first one in the VCR.

“You’re so impatient, Crow,” Makoto chided.

“No, you all are slow,” he retorted.

Akira had a sinking feeling about what might be on the tapes, and his suspicions were proven correct as the static on the small television resolved into two people sitting at a table: Maruki and Sumire.  Her hair was down and she had her glasses on, which told Akira where this memory was in the timeline.  Not that it was too hard to try and guess: the label on the videotape gave him a pretty big hint.

Akira glanced over at Sumire, who looked back up at him.  She understood his unspoken question of consent, and nodded back to him, whispering “It’s okay.”

The tape showed her first counseling session with Maruki.  I meandered about for a few minutes as they discussed snacks, food and cooking.  Akira recognized it as part of Maruki’s process of getting his patient to open up about themselves, and eventually the conversation turned to Sumire’s gymnastics and the death of her sister; how Sumire still wanted to achieve their shared dream, and the crushing guilt she felt over her sister’s death.

“I just feel like everything would be better if I were Kasumi Yoshizawa,” the Sumire in the memory said.

“There it is,” Yusuke commented.

Maruki spoke about the importance of changing, of striving to be a better person.  He leaned forward as he did, and they saw Sumire close her eyes.  The screen blurred and distorted, then snapped back to normal… but Akira could immediately see the change in Sumire.  Her slouch was gone and her posture was straighter, the voice she thanked Maruki in was brighter and happy, all traces of her depression gone.  They watched as her hands seemed to tie her hair into a ponytail and remove her glasses without her even seeming to notice.

“Kasumi” in the memory was totally transformed, speaking about her younger sister, Sumire.  Maruki smiled slightly, called her by her new name, and sent her on her way.

As the tape ended, the rest of the Thieves spoke with Sumire about what exactly had happened, and discussed how she had even heard her own name as ‘Kasumi’ when spoken to, due to her distorted cognition.  Akira looked down at the second videotape, the one labeled “Experiment 2” and then glanced over at Rin.

“What are you waiting for?” she said. “We need to watch it.”

“Witch, this is probably…” Akira began. “This is probably about you.”

“Everything here is about all of us,” she rebutted. “I’m not scared.”

Akira wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but pulled the first tape out and inserted the next tape.  The discussion amongst them died as the screen filled with static and the speakers buzzed.  The new scene was set in a Kosei dorm room, one filled with paintings and with the floor covered in tarps.  Maruki was sitting on the stool in front of a work-in-progress painting, and Rin on her bed.  They discussed Rin’s interests, her skills, and he offered a snack to her then walked around the room, inspecting the various canvases.

“I’ve said it before, but your work really is interesting, Witch,” Haru said.

“Thanks,” Rin said.

The memory continued, turning to the topic of love.  Maruki spoke of his lost love to Rin, saying: “I was in love.  I still am, but we aren’t together anymore.  For her to be happy, we had to be apart.  And… I loved her more than I wanted to be with her… so I had to leave.”

“He really does think of this as a grand sacrifice on his part, doesn’t he?” Akechi asked, then scoffed.

The memory of Rin and Maruki continued as Rin spoke of her pain and love, and how hard it was to move on.  Maruki leaned forward in the same way, and asked Rin if she would prefer to just forget it all, if she could.  Rin gave an indistinct “maybe.”

“Perhaps this is for the best, then,” Maruki said in the memory.  Again, the screen began to distort, but then static flashed across the screen, and for a split second, Akira could have sworn that he saw Rin’s face with yellow eyes on the screen, but then it was gone.  The memory resumed, with Rin now eyeing Maruki suspiciously, and the doctor seeming slightly taken aback.  He played it off, said he had to go, and made a quick exit from her dorm room after that, and the memory stopped.

“He really seemed to be caught off guard by that,” Ann said as the tape ejected itself.

“What exactly happened there?” Akechi asked, looking over at Rin expectantly.  She didn’t make eye contact, just stared at the now-blank screen.

“We spoke with Witch’s Shadow before this, and she was determined to help her,” Yusuke explained.

“With Shido and all, we didn’t have a lot of time,” Futaba said. “But it seemed like her Shadow was going to work from the inside to help her out.  Kind of like mine did.”

“I didn’t know what he had tried to do,” Rin spoke up. “I could just tell he had tried to do something to me, and a voice inside me fought back.”

“I see,” Akechi said, his voice heavy with disguised interest.

“He still labeled the tape as ‘Experiment 2,’” Makoto pointed out. “So even if this was a failure, he learned from it.”

“Violet and Witch were just tests to him?” Ryuji growled, anger growing in his voice. “That’s real eff’d up.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Morgana said. “It seems like he really did care.  Perhaps he just needed the data, and tried to help people at the same time.”

“And what wondrous help it was,” Rin snarked, deadpan.

They moved on, and encountered a large security Shadow blocking their exit, who took the form of an extremely powerful version of Surt the Fire Giant.  The battle was long and arduous, with Haru making extended use of Lucy’s new skill to protect them, and Akechi and Akira finishing it off with their Showtime attack, but they were able to fight past it, out through the password door and into the elevator.

They emerged into a vast garden-like area filled with platforms and people floating up past them, ever upwards.  The golden glow of the air was as eerie as it was welcoming.

“I’m too tired to try and figure this out,” Ryuji said as he inspected the vast space.

Akira looked at his exhausted team and made the call: “We’ll stop here for today.” They backtracked to a safe room and exited the Palace.

“May I speak to you privately?” the brown-haired boy says as they exit the Palace and begin to head home for the day. (Rin doesn’t know where her home is now, so she was heading back with Akira.  The distinction is important to her.)

Rin looks him up and down.  Goro Akechi.  He’s been mean and rude, but always honest, so Rin likes him just a little bit.  “Sure,” she says.  She tells Akira and Futaba she’ll see them later.  Both of them look concerned –even Rin can see that– but she gives a nod back to Akira when he asks.  They walk away from the rest.  There’s much to see in Odaiba, but not much of it interests Rin.

“I understand you are one of Kitagawa’s friends,” Akechi says, as they walk down one of the streets.  He hasn’t directed them into a café or store.  He seems to not want to stop.

“I am,” she responds. “But you don’t have any interest in him.”  The Detective Boy is a puzzle, one Rin has been trying to crack, when she’s not trying to crack her paintings.  A piece of him sticks outside the lines.  She likes that, but wants to know why.

“True, he’s too strange to be useful,” Akechi bluntly admits.

“Then what do you want with me?” Rin asks.  He’s orbiting the conversation.  Normally, Rin would be doing that.

“How did you really avoid actualization?” he says. “Not this fluff about talking to your Shadow, I want the truth.”

“I can’t tell you the truth, because I can’t know the truth,” Rin responds.  “Why does it matter to you?  You have a Persona, he can’t change you.”

“He changed all the Phantom Thieves when they each had a Persona,” Akechi counters. He didn’t answer the question.  “So that’s no guarantee.”

“He said he wouldn’t.  I think you said he wouldn’t,” Rin says as they turn a street corner, and arrive at a small park. Together they wander in to find that it’s almost deserted, but for a few tourists taking photos of the large green woman.  She’s a statue, holding a torch in one hand and a slate in the other.  A replica of the one in America, probably.

“And I’m not one for trust,” Akechi says, still not looking at her.  Rin is used to people not wanting to look at her.  It’s the uncanny valley, someone once said.  She doesn’t look like a person to people with all their arms.  This isn’t that.  Crow has looked at her before, spoken for her.  “Especially if we’re working to undo his lifelong dream, his principles will crack.  They always do.”

“And you don’t trust anyone around you,” she says, not as a question.

“I wish I could…” Akechi muses.  It might sound wistful and light, if not for the dark look in his eyes.

His eyes…

“But I do trust them, most of the time.  Out of necessity, if nothing else.  But I need to be prepared for a situation where he-” he pauses.  Rin probably isn’t supposed to notice the delay.  She’s not sure if she does. “-they can’t trust themselves.”

‘He’… Akechi’s not talking about Maruki…

A piece of the Akechi-puzzle slots into place.  Rin can’t tell which piece, but the shape of the thing is different now.  An idea sprouts in the back of her mind.  She wants to ask, but she knows she’ll only get lies and smiles.  So she keeps it to herself.

“The Phantom Thieves talked to my Shadow, and they got her to help me,” Rin says.  He may not believe her, but it's what she remembers.  She remembers the embrace of her Shadow more vividly than anything else in her life.  The one solid memory amid the clouds in her head.  “She was going to help me, and Doctor Maruki was going to change that.  So she stopped it.  It didn’t help.  He still got me on Christmas Day, just like everyone else.”

Akechi sighs and touches his chin.  His shaggy brown hair falls in front of his eyes, and for a moment Rin thinks that he looks like Hisao if he missed a ton of haircuts.  She wants to comfort him, but knows that neither of them will enjoy it.  Instead, she settles for testing her theory and poking the bear.

“What about you?” Rin asks. “You apparently were not stuck in a dream, and neither was Kurusu.  Why not ask him?  I don’t get why you’re worried.”

He doesn’t react to that question.  He stares out for a long moment.  “I just want to keep my options open, in case our situation changes,” he says, and Rin does not believe him.  It’s too vague, too nice for him.

“I understand,” Rin lies.  She wants something good to come out of this conversation.  “I can help.  You.  In battle.”

“What, like those combination attacks the rest are in love with?” Akechi almost sneers.

“You have one,” Rin counters. “With Joker.  The one where you scream really loud.” He grimaces at that. “I think you should have another one.”

“And what might it be?” he asks.  

Rin explains, and he agrees.  They go their separate ways.

The sun is down by the time she makes it back to Leblanc.  Futaba is watching a show on on the TV, as Akira and Morgana look over his schoolwork.  Rin still can’t believe that he’s kept up on his homework while this is happening.  It’s crazy.

All three look around at her as the bell rings.  “Everything okay with you and Akechi?” Futaba asks.  Rin looks at her, then at Akira.  She wants to tell the truth.  So she does.

Sort of.

“No, but I don’t think anything about him is okay,” she says.

Akira sighs as Futaba snorts a laugh.  They wash up and head to bed after a long day.  As she lays awake, sleep refusing to come, she wonders if she’ll ever not be lying and telling the truth at the same time.

“Another one?” Akechi said as the Phantom Thieves stumbled on to another records room.  They’d returned to the Palace after resting, and had all been annoyed and infuriated by the light and color puzzles Maruki had created in the garden-like area.  To Akira, it was almost a relief to see one more of these dim records rooms with the flickering yellow TV.

“This is prolly the last one,” Ryuji said. “Or, I hope it is.”

Futaba placed the available tape into the VCR, and they all watched one last memory.  Maruki was talking with an older man, squat and wizened.  He was arguing with him in an office of some kind.  The older man appeared to be a professor of some sort, an old acquaintance of Maruki’s, who Maruki was confronting about the end of his cognitive psience research.  Maruki openly admitted that he was just there to gloat, and speculated that the research was shut down by Masayoshi Shido; “based on his recent confessions.”

“I guess we know this is after the election,” Ann said. “So this is actually pretty recent.”

The conversation took a turn as the video distorted and the sky outside the office turned red, with a scarlet rain falling against the windows.  Maruki was shocked and disturbed, but the professor appeared to not notice.  The same echoing voice spoke to him again, and a faint outline appeared behind Maruki: a golden cross trailing boneless limbs.  The Persona spoke, explaining its own existence and the state of the fusion to Maruki. 

“You and I have finally become one in this moment!” the Persona in the video said.

“So his Persona knew what was happening?” Sumire asked.

“Artemisia gave me a rundown when this happened,” Rin said.

The Persona urged Maruki to seek the bottom of the subways, and then disappeared.  He laughed slightly, a dark and almost-mad laugh.  The professor told him to leave, and Maruki did.  As he left the building and descended the front steps, his jacket and pants exploded in blue fire, and he was suddenly dressed in a golden bodysuit, with a white poncho, towering mask and shining golden staff.

“That’s certainly… an outfit,” Makoto said.

“I think it has elegance of a sort to it,” Yusuke said.

“It’s certainly not designed for stealth,” Akechi snarked.

In the video Maruki crushed the Shadows roaming Tokyo with ease, until it showed Rin leaping into the air, trying to fight three large angel-Shadows.  She was blasted away and nearly cornered, before Maruki attacked them and intervened.

“You told us you were fighting Shadows on Christmas Eve,” said Morgana as they watched Maruki save Rin and the two worked together. “But seeing it is a whole other matter.”   Maruki spoke of wanting to save the world, and Rin agreed, then the screen erupted into static before showing Rin holding off a small host of Shadows as Maruki nodded and left.  

“Wow, you fought all those Shadows alone, Witch?” Haru asked.

“Mostly,” she replied. “I had help.”

There was another jump-cut of static in the memory, and then it showed Maruki’s Persona growing the vast network that wove its way through Mementos, then nothing, and the tape ejected itself.

“He really did lead you on,” Akira said. “He made you think that he was going to undo the damage the God of Control did.”

Rin shrugged. “It’s in the past.  If we can undo his world, then we’ll all be even.”

They passed the password-locked door, and fought a Shadow in the form of the hero Siegfried.  Rin was especially helpful, as she used a previously unseen skill of Artemisia to render the Shadow forgetful and unable to use any abilities, and in combination with Haru’s psychic attacks, they made quick work of the massive Shadow, with Akechi and Rin finishing it off with their new Showtime attack, which seemed to involve a museum heist of some kind, Akira was unsure on the details.   

After the Shadow, they took the final elevator to the last area of the Palace, which was a bright meadow of wildflowers and dancing people.

“I guess he truely does think of the world he’s creating as a Garden of Eden,” Haru said, pointing to the massive tree that grew from the center of the garden, with large, apple-like shapes hanging from it. “As a place before sin and suffering.”

“It looks more like a Bacchanalia to me,” Akechi said, nodding his head to the cognitive humans, parading around nearly naked with wine glasses in their hands, dancing and laughing on the other side of the garden. “An eternal festival of excess and bliss.”

“To him, it’s okay to control people’s minds, as long as they look like they’re havin’ fun,” Ryuji said. “It’s pretty messed up.”

They climbed the tower-tree to find the shimmering light of a treasure, massive and unformed.

“Finally,” Ann lamented as they climbed back down the spiral glass stairs around the tree.

“How exactly are we going to send the calling card, if Doctor Maruki’s here in Metaverse and already knows about us?” Haru asked. “Will it even work?”

“It should,” Morgana assured her.

“But what about gettin’ it to him?” Ryuji asked. “We haven’t seen him this whole time, outside of those memories.”

“Given his commitment to a ‘pacifism route,’” Futaba said. “He’ll probably wanna confront us and attempt something.”

“He has been pretty adamant about that,” Akira said. “But when?”

“On the day before he does anything, I bet,” Rin said. “On the day before Setsubun.”

“My money is on him trying something with you, Joker,” Akechi said as they reached the bottom of the glass stairway.

“Probably,” Akira sighed.

“Good point,” Yusuke said. “Witch and I will leave the calling card with you once completed.  Then you can give it to him whenever you meet.”

“We could just set up an ambush for him in the real world,” Akechi suggested. “I could take care of the problem rather quickly.”

“No way are we doin’ that!” Ryuji said, before turning away to call the elevator back.

“Is that your first answer to every problem?” Rin asked.

“Our goal is to revert reality to its original state, not inflict needless violence on Doctor Maruki,” Makoto asserted.

“I was joking,” Akechi said, rolling his neck lazily.  “His power over reality makes him a dangerous foe in the real world, it’s best not to antagonize him.  Fighting him in the Metaverse and changing his heart is a much more sound plan, for once.”

“Will stealing his heart really make things the way they were before?” Ann asked as they filed into the elevator.

“I can’t say for sure, but it seems likely, and it’s our only shot,” Morgana said, crossing his arms. “Even if he managed to set all this up to have both a Persona and a Palace, a treasure is the core of a Palace, from which the entire thing forms.”

“And from what I saw in the data from his surveillance program, without this Palace, he won’t be able to do all that stuff in Mementos,” Futaba added, wagging a finger.  “Which should separate the two and dissolve the Metaverse.”

“No one who didn’t have a Persona remembered what happened while the world was Red, last time,” Rin said.

“Right, so it should act the same way,” Makoto said.  “For those with no connection to the Metaverse, this whole ‘ideal world’ will never have happened.”

“Let’s hope it all works out,” Ann muttered as the elevator reached the bottom, and they disembarked, out of the elevator and then out of the Metaverse.

Akira felt quite nervous over the next few days.  The Phantom Thieves spent the few remaining days of January fulfilling requests and training in Mementos.  Akira even worked up his nerve to fuse the Lucifer Persona, something he had been too intimidated to do beforehand.  If they were going to be fighting the master of reality, then they would need every advantage on their side.

Akira kept the calling card that Rin and Yusuke had created on hand, but Maruki did not appear until the day Rin had predicted.  He called very, very late in the day, and asked to stop by Leblanc and speak with them, even mentioning the calling card.  Akira accepted, and Rin broke her attention away from her latest painting, which had evolved into a luscious red apple with what looked like a screaming face being burrowed into by blue worms.  Akira didn’t much like it, but at least the visceral reaction he had to it spoke to Rin’s craft.

“Is he going to just talk to us?” Rin asked. “Or will he make us agree?”

“If he does try something, it’s not like we can do much without Personas,” Morgana chimed in from the couch.

“He’s been adamant that he wants to convince us,” Akira said, standing up from his desk. “I can’t imagine that he’ll suddenly throw all that out and just change us.”

“I can imagine that,” Rin said quietly.

Akira walked downstairs and made a pot of coffee, as Rin and Morgana followed.  A minute or so later, the bell on the front door jingled, announcing their guest.

“Good evening,” Maruki said, dressed in a brown coat and business casual clothes.

“Good evening,” Akira returned, pouring two cups of coffee, then removing his apron and circling around the counter, placing each up on one of the booth tables.  Rin sat in one of the counter stools, her rigid legs betraying tension.  She stared at Maruki as he walked in and made eye contact with her.

“Hello, Tezuka-san,” he said, nodding slightly, but Rin didn’t respond, she just continued staring at him.  Akira gestured to the booth, and Maruki slid in and took a sip of the coffee.  Akira slid in opposite him, and Morgana hopped up beside him.  Rin kept her seat, staring at Maruki.

“How is Yoshizawa-san doing?” Maruki asked, trying to make small talk. “I’ve been concerned for her.”

“Sumire is much better now that she knows who she is,” Rin said before Akira could respond, putting special emphasis on her name.  He’d hoped that this might be a more private discussion between the two of them, but Morgana and Rin both had a right to this.

“She’s stronger than you know,” Akira said to add on.

“I wish I could believe you,” Maruki said, then set his coffee down on the saucer and slid it aside. “Let’s get to it…” He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. “You all are still completely against my world, aren’t you?  There’s no way for us to resolve this besides violence?”

“Unless you just want to make us agree,” Rin barked. “You could do that.”

“I could, Tezuka-san, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to,” Maruki said, waving a hand. “But I’d much rather persuade you all to see that this is a better way to be.”

“This reality is not what we want,” Akira said. “It’s distorted, and we can’t accept it.”

Maruki sighed, hanging his head a bit. “This reality may seem distorted from your point of view, but it’s a reality where everyone is happy!”

“So?” Rin asked, her voice even and flat.

Maruki stumbled a bit.  “Buh… there’s no suffering in this world.  No unhappiness or loneliness.  Isn’t that the dream everyone would like to make: a perfect world?”

“No,” Rin said. “It’s your dream.  You think that happiness is an end, that if you just get there then nothing else matters.”

Akira nodded. “The world you’ve created isn’t perfect.  You’ve completely missed the point of life.”

Maruki persisted: “I’ve created a world with pain or heartbreak.  No one will suffer the agony of having something ripped away from you.”

“Like what happened to you?” Akira asked, feeling it was time to bring up the memories they had found.

Maruki was silent for a moment, his eyes looking away in an almost guilty way. “So, you saw her…” he mused, brushing his coffee cup with a finger. “I suppose it’s only natural that you would discover my past while making your way around my Palace.  It doesn’t matter, I’m not the one who suffered.  She endured far more than I could imagine, but with my actualization, she was able to recover, and live a normal, happy life.”

“She doesn’t remember you at all,” Morgana said. “You’re okay with that?”

“As I said, it’s not about me,” Maruki said, taking a sip of his coffee.  Akira glanced over at Rin, expecting her to comment, but he found her looking out the front window.  “This power I have let me give her life back to her.”

“You didn’t give her her life back,” Rin retorted, her attention returned to the conversation. “You stole it.  You gave her a new life, with a new past that you weren’t a part of.”

“Perhaps, but I did give her a new life,” Maruki half-conceded. “And with her old life shattered to pieces, it was her only hope.”

“Nothing is too broken to be repaired,” Rin said, her voice suddenly icy. “Just because it was hard, and it was painful, you decided that it was a lost cause.”

Maruki looked up from his coffee, his eyes holding both pain and a spark of irritation. “I understand that’s how you feel, but it’s not true.  You’re both young, and you don’t understand how the world really works.  Injuries like what Rumi suffered… they can’t be healed.  The only solution is to start over.”  Akira was going to interrupt, but Maruki didn’t stop. “I moved on.  She’s happy now. And in giving her that new life, I’ve come to understand that my power is the destiny of the world.  This is the only path for humanity even the Shadows agree.  I don’t want to fight you, but if you stand against inevitability, I won’t be able to save you.  So, that being said, do you have any last doubts about this?  Any other options you wish to consider?”

Akira was confused.  They had just told him they didn’t accept this reality.  Were they going to be talking in circles here? “What are you getting at?” he asked.

“He’s not talking to you,” Rin said.

“Yes… I supposed I should address the person directly,” Maruki said, shifting in his seat towards the front door. “Do you have any doubts you wish to voice to me, Akechi-kun?”

Akira was shocked, as he turned to the front door to see Akechi slide in. “You caught me,” he said in a plaintive, almost friendly voice.

“It was just what you might call a hunch,” Maruki said. “You should be here for this, as this issue affects more than just Kurusu-kun.  Akechi-kun, and even Tezuka-san are involved as well.”

Akira felt a pit open in his stomach.  Obviously this affected more than just him, but there was something in the way that he said it that set him on edge.

“What do you mean?” Akira asked as Akechi sighed and grimaced.

“The relationship between you two is so unique, the Phantom Thief and the ace detective…” Maruki said, putting his hands beneath the table. “You were enemies, yet there was no ill will or hatred in your bond.”  Akira felt a distant stab of irony; obviously Maruki hadn’t heard Akechi’s confession of jealous hatred when the two had dueled in Mementos.

“That’s why I was so saddened when I found out what happened in Shido’s Palace,” Maruki lamented.  Akira stopped and thought.  What could he mean by that?  What had happened in Shido’s Palace was so…

“I wasn’t the only one he changed right away on Christmas,” Rin said.  Akira’s mind spun, knocked askew by her comment.  She had been sent to her ideal life right away, back to her school in Sendai.  If he had changed something else before New Year’s… what could it be?  It would be something improbable, something unexplainable… like a miracle he just accepted…

The truth slid into place in Akira’s mind with a sickening thud.  A miracle… like a dead teenager mysteriously being alive to take the fall for Akira.  He peered over at Akechi, who was simply scowling.  “You… you died?”

“I told you to move on, to fulfill our promise,” Akechi growled.  “Why were you so fixated on me?”

“You knew?” Akira responded, wanting to feel outraged but feeling only empty instead. “You knew you were dead?”

“I didn’t have real evidence,” Akechi explained. “But the circumstances around us made puzzling it out a simple matter.  My gap in memories and the resurrections of Isshiki and Okumara made it a simple deduction.”

“I made this world for you, Kurusu-kun,” Maruki said. “A world where he was saved, where he can have a fresh start, free from the past.”  Maruki’s face darkened. “Though, it seems your wish for him to be free left him a little too much freedom…”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Akira asked Akechi, a sense of betrayal eating at his insides.

“Why do you think?” Akechi growled, still visibly upset. “I was mostly just hoping one of the others wouldn’t figure it out first, though based on our last conversation, I’m guessing that Tezuka was able to figure it out.”

“And you… Rin… why didn’t you…” Akira said, turning to her for some support.

“I didn’t know,” she said, with her telltale shrug. “I had a guess, but I’m not often right about anything, so I just kept it to myself.”

Maruki leaned back, and folded his arms. “I really didn’t want to tell you this.  It feels like I’m holding his life over your head, but you need to make an informed decision, and understand the full consequences of the choice you’re making.”

“The Akechi in the real world died…” mused Morgana.  “I guess this explains what wish Akira had granted…”

“I’m only trying to make a world that’s best for everyone, even you, Kurusu-kun,” Maruki said.  Akira could feel his mind twisting with the strain of re-arranging the last month of being with Akechi, like each time he had changed the topic or been vague about how he had escaped the Palace…

“If you think dangling my life in front of us is going to sway either of us, then you are sorely mistaken,” Akechi said.

Maruki let out a joyless chuckle. “I had a feeling that it wouldn’t change your mind, Akechi-kun, but what about you, Kurusu-kun?  What do you think?”  Akira was still trying to process what he now knew as Maruki looked back at him. “This is the last time I’m going to ask: will you accept this reality that I made for you?  You were the guiding light in my research, and the key to so many of my revelations.  I have nothing but gratitude for your help, that’s why I wanted you to understand.”

Akira found himself unable to speak until Maruki stood up. “I suppose springing this all on you is a bit too much.  I’ll wait for your answer.”

Akira felt himself sitting there, doing nothing.  He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him: Morgana’s trepidatious concern, Rin’s distant judgment, Maruki’s gentle yet condescending kindness, and Akechi’s burning resentment.  

Who can decide the worth of a life? asked a voice in Akira’s heart. Who can weigh a lifetime of choices and say that it is better off another way?

Akira made his decision then.  He reached into his blazer, and withdrew the calling card that Yusuke and Rin had made together.  It looked like the rest, with the red and black concentric circles, but with an array of new colors woven into the magazine cut-out font.  It was certainly the most lively of the cards they had ever prepared.  Akira read the note one last time.

To Doctor Takuto Maruki,

You have committed the grave sin of creating an overblown, self-righteous reality where people's wishes are granted. However, we will not soak ourselves in this false happiness, and we will overcome our pain and move forward with the lives we can take for ourselves. We reject your false and presumptuous salvation. Thus, we will steal your distorted desires and take back our future. 

From, the Phantom Thieves

He tossed it across the table to Maruki, who picked it up and read through it.  “I do not accept your offer,” Akira said as he saw Maruki’s eyes reach the end of the note. “We do not accept.”

“Very well,” Maruki said, his voice resigned. “I’ll see you soon, then.”  He nodded to Rin and Akechi, then walked out of Leblanc.

Akira let out a breath that he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, and buried his face in his hands.  He plucked the useless glasses off his face and let them clatter to the tabletop.

He heard Morgana jump down from the seat next to him, reading the hints.  He called Rin to follow him upstairs, and Akira heard her walk up the wooden stairs behind him, leaving him alone with Akechi.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” Akechi said, leaning against the counter. “I was convinced I’d have to pressure and plead with you just to get you to say the course.”

Akira glanced over his hands at the teen detective.  The dead boy.  “Do you really think so little of me?”

“You are the one who resurrected me with your regret,” Akechi said, as Akira collected his and Maruki’s coffee cups and stood up from the booth. “So I have to ask: were you serious, or just afraid of what I’d do?”

“I'm not afraid of you, Akechi,” Akira said, washing out the coffee cups and internally cursing himself.  It was a dodge so transparent, there was no way Akechi would fall for it.

“Then I want you to say it,” Akechi said slowly, as Akira turned the sink off.  Akira turned to see the dead boy walking, his face a mask of determination. “What are you going to do tomorrow?  Steal Maruki’s heart or let him have his way?”

Answering that question took more effort than Akira realized.  He bit out his answer: “We’re stealing his heart… and returning to the real world.”

Akira gazed up at Akechi, and for a single moment, it all fell away.  The many layers of bitterness and sarcasm.  For a single moment, Akechi looked at Akira with nothing but an earnest smile.  “Thank you for honoring my wishes,” he said.  “This is the path I’ve chosen, the only way for justice to be done.”  And in his heart, Akira could feel the same change that each of his old teammates had experienced.  He could feel Akechi’s two Personas fuse.  Robin Hood and Loki blended together into a new form, more cunning and stalwart than either on their own.

And then, as soon as it appeared, the moment passed, and Akechi’s face returned to his mask.  He turned to leave, but stopped, looking over his shoulder at Akira. “A life constructed just to satisfy someone else… There’s no worth in that.  Get some rest.  We’ll need you tomorrow.”  And then he left.

Akira washed up, then changed into his pajamas and walked upstairs.  Rin was sorting her supplies, already in her own sleepwear somehow.

“I’m sorry if I lied to you,” she said as Akira collapsed onto his bed. “I just had a hunch.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t lie,” Akira assured her.  “I was just… shocked.”

Rin didn’t respond, but moved to turn in for the night in the soft-bed.  Akira got up from his bed to turn out the lights, and as he did Rin spoke up once more.  “I can’t let someone else decide if my life is worthwhile,” she said. “I can’t go back to accepting that.”

Akira felt the weight of her words more than he thought possible.  He’d been too distracted earlier to really process the way she had responded to Maruki, but now he could see what about him resonated so deeply.  She’d lived so much of her life with people thinking her entire existence was a mistake or a waste.  And right as she had said she had finally found worth in herself, someone else had decided that the life she chose wasn’t good enough, and had given her a replacement.

Intellectually, Akira had understood that.  But in hearing her small voice, Akira finally understood what this meant to her.

“I understand, Rin,” Akira said as he flipped the light out.

As he drifted off into sleep, Akira could almost hear her say, “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“Everyone ready?” Akira asked his team. They looked at him, their eyes full of determination behind their masks.

This was it. They had stopped at a safe room just outside the doctor’s ‘Eden.’ Each of them had checked their equipment and supplies, and all were ready.

“It’s showtime,” Akira said as he opened the door back into the Palace.

Palaces with high security levels always felt different, and they always felt oppressive when their rulers had been sent a calling card.  Maruki’s laboratory was no exception.  The air felt warm and humid, the lighting seemed to be more red, and a two-part pulse seemed to reverberate in Akira’s feet; like the whole structure had a heartbeat.  They rode the elevator up to the garden area, where the glass staircase spiraling around the tree at the center remained.  The large, twitching apples that hung from the tree seemed more black than red now, each with what seemed to be a camera lens poking out of the side, observing them.

“Here we go,” Makoto uttered as they began climbing the spiral staircase.  Twenty meters up, Akira heard a wrenching sound that was both metallic and organic, and his heart seized.

“Look out!” Futaba shouted as she tackled Rin forward and Ann pulled Yusuke back by the scruff of his shirt as one of the large, black apples fell right through the staircase, shattering the section that they had all been running on moments ago.  A cacophony of shattering glass filled the air as Akira flung his grappling hook out to Akechi, who was the last to leap forward.  He managed to grab it, and Akira and Sumire worked to pull him up.

“Doc’s really pullin’ out all the stops,” Ryuji said, helping Haru up.  The Thieves had been separated, with Akira, Akechi, Sumire, Rin and Futaba on the higher section, and the rest stranded behind, the gap in the stairway a good fifteen meters across. 

“I suppose it’s all fair game now,” Yusuke murmured.

“He’s trying to delay us,” Akechi bit out, pulling himself up from the edge and steading himself on Rin’s shoulder. “To scatter us and avoid a fight altogether.  We need to press on.”  

Akira didn’t like that, and Futaba murmured something about ‘splitting the party’ but Makoto spoke up from the other side. “It’s fine, we’ll catch up soon,” she said. “Crow is right, we need to get to the treasure soon.”

“We’ll be just fine, Joker,” shouted Haru, making a shoo’ing motion with her arms. “See you all soon.”  She turned back to the rest as Ann pulled out her whip and began to inspect their surroundings.

Akira nodded and turned, motioning the other four to follow.  Rin nodded to Yusuke as they left, and the five of them finished the staircase, arriving in the boughs of the dark tree.  A shimmering light was obscured behind the simple silhouette of Takuto Maruki, still in his white suit.

“This is your last chance to turn back,” Maruki said. “I am prepared to defend my dream, even if it may cost your lives.”

“We already got that memo,” Akechi sneered, drawing his pistol and aiming it at Maruki.  Akira’s instincts warred: they were here to defeat Maruki, but just trying to kill him…  Yet, Akira’s trepidation proved pointless as Akechi fired the pistol, but blue-black tendrils erupted from the ground, deflecting and blocking the shots.

“Doctor Maruki!” Sumire shouted. “Somewhere in your heart you have to know this is the wrong way to help people.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Yoshizawa-san,” he said, stepping forward, his hand outstretched. His outfit blurred and distorted, before igniting in a burst of blue flames, and becoming the same golden bodysuit, pure white shawl and towering mask they had seen in his memory. “What keeps me going is knowing, in my heart of hearts, that this is the only way humanity can escape suffering!  This is my rebellion against the cruel status quo!”  Motes of light condensed into his golden staff in his outstretched hand.

“You’re just another deluded adult,” Rin said. “And that’s what the Phantom Thieves are for: stopping twisted adults.”

“If you think I am like those you’ve fought, or that my power is anything like yours, you are all sadly mistaken,” Maruki rebutted, as blue flames crawled up and down his mask.  Behind him, Akira could at last see the form of his Persona appear behind him: a gilded, bladed cross, with azure eyes unblinking.  Tendrils of blue and black spilled from a golden ribcage and piled and coiled around Maruki: tentacles that ended in bladed hands, tentacles that slithered and snaked into a nest at his feet.  “Our powers are nothing close to equal!”

The thrumming, pulsing roar that emanated from Maruki’s Persona rattled the floor and Akira’s ribs, but he held fast as Futaba placed a hand on his shoulder.  “We’ve got this,” Futaba said, behind him.

Akira nodded back to her, and looked to see Maruki gently caress one of the tentacles next to him.  “Our dream is at hand, Azathoth,” he half-whispered to it. “One last battle.”  He turned back to the Thieves before him. “The die is cast,” he said to the rest of them, and his Persona lashed out with its bladed appendages.

Each of them hopped backwards to avoid the sweep, and Sumire lunged forward with her rapier as Ella appeared and swung her bladed legs.  Azathoth’s tentacles shielded Maruki, but Sumire managed to slice clean through one of them, and it disintegrated into black mist.  

“Keep it up!” Akira shouted, trying to find the right Persona for the job. “Clear out his Persona’s limbs.”  Akechi hopped up on a protruding branch of the unnatural tree they were in, and summoned the dark-armored Hereward, who blasted Maruki and his Persona both with almighty magic.  The limbs were destroyed protecting Maruki, but the five-meter tall golden idol took the full force.  It seemed to shudder under the assault.

“Flow maximized, support’s on the way!” Futaba told them from Al-Azif, and Akira felt his strength surge as Futaba empowered them.  Akira watched as Rin summoned Artemisia, who launched forward, slashing at Azathoth with both her sword and spear.  Akira took that chance to summon Cybele and raise everyone’s defense.  They would undoubtedly need it.

Maruki raised his hand, and more tentacles emerged from the nest around him, each replacing the ones they had destroyed and ready to defend him.  Azathoth’s eyes flared, and seeds of light rained down on them, forcing them to move, but catching Akechi off guard.  Maruki took that opportunity to raise his own defense, then each of the tentacles took a swing at them, forcing them away.

“He’s really tough,” Rin said, before summoning Artemisia to cast Masukunda and lower Maruki's speed.

“Yes, he’s able to defend against almost anything,” Sumire commented, before Ella spun out a Vorpal Blade attack, filling the air with the sound of swinging blades and catching a few of the tentacles.

“Yet he’s all power and no technique,” Akechi commented.

His defense… Akechi was right, something was off about the way he was fighting them.  On the one occasion that the Thieves had fought another Persona user, Akechi had summoned Loki just to attack.  Personas could be vulnerable, so keeping them summoned was a liability… but Maruki appeared to not agree.  The five-meter tall golden cross of Azathoth’s main body remained behind the doctor, even as Akechi debilitated it.

It was an edge for them, something they could exploit.  Akira relayed the instructions to Futaba, who then told all present to target his Persona and not him when they weren’t clearing out tentacles.  Akira wanted to use Futaba’s mental link, in case Maruki heard them and realized that vulnerability.

Akira summoned his new Persona, the demon Lucifer, who rained down destruction and swept away Maruki’s defenses.  Open once again, Rin summoned Giordano, who blasted Azathoth with a combination nuclear and fire spell, summoning an exploding sun right on top of it.  The Persona buckled and shuttered, and Maruki had to clutch his staff to keep himself upright in sympathetic pain.

Maruki was able to twist reality around, preventing certain tactics, but they worked around it, adapting with Futaba’s help.  They kept pelting Azathoth, and still the doctor did not unsummon it.  Perhaps he couldn’t, Akira speculated as Rin and Sumire launched their Showtime attack at.  Perhaps with all the power he had gained from Mementos, he couldn’t summon it just for a single attack; it was bloated and unwieldy with power.  That, or he thought using its tentacles for support was worth the risk.  Akira certainly wasn’t about to discuss the topic with him.

Maruki sent a wave of fear pulsing through the room that left Rin and Akechi cowering away from him, but Futaba restored them both instantly.  Akechi swore as he summoned Hereward, who shot an arrow of curse magic straight through Azathoth’s body, making Maruki clutch his chest.

“Not bad,” Maruki said, straining.  “But we’ve only just begun!”  He thrust his staff up, and it shone with a strange light.  Azathoth vibrated in the air, and dozens of tentacles snaked out from behind it, all wriggling in a kaleidoscopic display, like rays of the sun.  He directed his Persona, and Azathoth reached out with its dozens of limbs.  They shot into the massive black apples hanging from the branches around them, each with a blue lens set inside.  Azathoth surged with power, and each of the apples glowed, the lenses flaring to life. 

“Watch out!” was all Akira could say before each of the lenses fired a powerful laser, turning the space into a maze of light and madness.  Akira was able to throw himself to the floor two dodge two of the beams, but a third singed his coat-tails and another nailed him on the arm, scorching him.

The smoke cleared, and he saw his team in disarray: Akechi was flat on his back, Sumire was struggling to get to a knee, and Rin was propped up against the dark branches that formed the walls of the space.  Akira was overcome by deja-vu, remembering when Maruki had controlled Sumire’s Persona and put him, Akechi and Rin on the ropes.

That surge in power had left them on the back foot, and Maruki raised his hand and Akira could see power coursing through the tentacles still embedded in the apples.  The pitch-black fruit-shapes rotated, focusing their lens on the Phantom Thieves.  There was no way out now.  Akira tried to summon his Persona to do something, maybe Yoshisune to cut the tentacles, or Cybele to protect them… but his body wouldn’t move.  He was still in shock from being blasted to the floor, and he just couldn’t seem to get up in time.

I knew splitting up was a bad idea! Futaba whined as she activated the Final Guard, shielding them from the blast.  The green, glowing hieroglyphs snaked across the floor, forming a protective barrier around the Thieves.  Azathoth withdrew its tentacles from the apples, and summoned seeds of energy in each one, readying itself to rain destruction down on the Thieves.

“No you DON’T!” cried out a voice behind Akira.  “Dance, Célestine: Blazing Hell!”

Giant, orange drops of liquid fire fell from above onto Maruki and Azathoth.  The Persona abandoned its attack to shield Maruki from the spell, tentacles weaving into a roof to stop the attack.

“William!” Ryuji shouted behind them. “Fighting Spirit!”  Akira felt power blossom within as light washed over all of them.  They had made it past the gap at last.

“Let’s go, Agnes!” Makoto said, barreling past them on her vehicle-Persona, using her Checkmate skill as she drove past him to cripple the tentacles, Maruki and Azathoth.

"Wipe them out, Gorokichi!" shouted Yusuke charging past them and summoning his Persona, who swung his massive cigar down and released a Vorpal Blade attack, cutting away all of Maruki’s tentacles.

“Sorry it took so long, Joker,” Morgana said, rushing up beside him. “It was quite a jump to make as a car.  Diego, Salvation!”  The top-heavy form of Morgana’s Persona appeared, and with swish of his rapier, teal light filled the battling Thieves, restoring their strength.

Sumire nodded back to Akira and Morgana before she lunged forward and attacked Azathoth again.  Akira felt a fortifying sensation run through his body as Haru arrived behind him. “Shield us, Lucy!” she said, as her Persona used Life Wall to protect all ten of them.  She hefted her ax as she walked up next to Akira. “I know you don’t like all of us fighting at once, you said it was too risky once.”

“That was before we were fighting for the fate of the world,” Akira said as he watched Akechi and Rin savagely attack Maruki’s Persona together, before Morgana and Ann both unleashed their full magazines on them. “It’s now or never,” he said, looking down at Haru, who smiled and nodded.

Maruki tried to call each of them out, tried to sow doubt in their hearts, but he was barely able to hold out against the constant barrage of attack from all sides.  “Tezuka-san!” Maruki cried out. “I can give you the life you want!  You can be with Nakai-san!”

“I can do that without you,” Rin responded before she summoned Giordorno to blast Azathoth with fire.  “People lived and loved long before you, and they will do it just fine after we stop you.”

Eventually, their overwhelming assault proved too much for Maruki.  They kept severing tentacles and Azathoth kept regenerating them, until it could grow no more.  It stopped regrowing them, the existing tentacles withering away.  It looked oddly incomplete, the golden cross-shape hovering in mid-air with no tendrils leading out of it.  The light in its eyes went out, and it shuttered in place, then fell to the floor with a metallic clang, landing ‘face’ first.  It was fading in and out of sight as Maruki fell to his knees, too weak to maintain his Persona.  He stumbled over to Azathoth, placing a gentle hand on its flickering metal shell.

“Azathoth… have I failed them… Failed her?” Maruki asked under his breath.  Akira felt a whisper of pity float through his heart.  Maruki had lost a loved one to his power, and now he was kneeling over that same power as it failed him.  It was tragic, in a way.  A flash of light appeared between the regrouping Thieves and the mourning doctor, severing that thought.  As it faded, Akira could see a golden torch wrapped in chains that floated in the air, and its cap contained an overflowing, orange flame.

“Is that…” Ann began.

“His Treasure,” Morgana confirmed.  Akira reached out for it, a little apprehensive.  This was it: the end.

“Is it… a torch?” Haru asked as the Treasure slowly rotated in mid-air a few centimeters from Akira’s hand.

“A symbol of guidance and leadership, to show others the way,” Akechi said, familiar contempt lurking under his tone. “He wanted to ‘guide the world to a better path.’  Take it, Joker.  It’s what we are here for.”

Akira glanced at Maruki, still kneeling of the fading form of his Persona, before he reached out and took the treasure by its haft.  It was warm, a pleasant heat filling it, but as he held it Akira’s fingers gained an unpleasant tingle, like a limb that had fallen asleep resuming feeling.

The instant he pulled it from the air, the Palace began to rumble.  Despite Maruki’s unconventional Palace, it was subject to the same rules every Palace was.  Akira glanced over at Maruki’s kneeling form, and could barely make out Maruki muttering under his breath.  He was about to take a step forward to drag him out of the Palace, when Makoto called out danger above them.  Akira leapt backwards, barely avoiding a chunk of the tree coming loose.  They had to escape with the treasure; Maruki would probably be fine, he reasoned.  It still took considerable effort to tear himself away, as more debris began to fill the room.  Morgana transformed into a van and they all piled in, hoping to make it to safety as the Palace began its collapse.

The inside of the van is crowded with ten of them in there.  Normally Queen would ride alongside, but in the rush she’s taken the wheel and is driving Morgana out.  Rin both trusts her driving skills, but is also terrified of them, because they are hurtling down one of the vast ribbons of gold that snake their way around Maruki’s Palace, and her stomach is tied in a knot.  The are eventually launched off the end of a ramp, and the van tumbles end over end before Morgana reverts to his cat-form, unceremoniously dumping them where Queen had skidded them to a halt.  Rin rolls to her knees and looks around.  They appear to be on a rooftop, but nothing like the lab or the garden, or even the evil tree.  Just a rooftop.

“Are we… in the real world?” Violet asks, looking around.

“Not likely,” Fox says, pointing up.  Above them the slowly tipping form of Maruki’s tower arcs over them, the lenses cracked and the glass panes that surrounded it slowly flying apart, like the keys of an exploding piano.

“Outside a Palace, the world looks mostly normal,” Skull briefly explains. “But we’re still in the Metaverse.”

“This is…” Panther begins, hand flying to her mouth in concern or consternation. “I know we needed to change his heart, but how could someone survive that?”

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that,” Crow says with his typical dry tone.  He points up to a large collection of branches and glass slowly falling past them.  Rin follows his finger, to find Doctor Maruki, still in his mask and poncho, staring them down.

“I’m not one to go down that easily,” he says.

“That wasn’t exactly easy,” Violet mutters.  Rin agrees, but she’s still ready for more, if it comes down to that.

“You need to stop, Doctor,” Joker replies.

“I’m sorry, Kurusu-kun.  You know I can’t do that,” he says. “The new world chose me as its prophet and savior.  Only I can grant this wish!  It’s my responsibility!”

Rin can almost feel the disdain radiating off of Crow, but she keeps her eyes on Maruki.  His Persona was depleted, what can he do?  He lets go of his staff, letting it clatter away to the roof below, and extends his hand at them.  Rin flinches away, ready for an attack, but instead Joker stumbles forward as the Treasure is yanked out of his grip. It flies straight into Maruki’s waiting hand.

Maruki seems to almost salute with it, then raises the torch high.  Its light flares and shining, brilliant beams split the clouds and rain down on Maruki.  Behind them, the shell of Maruki’s Persona spins into existence, dozens meters tall and looming over them.  It sprouts its black and blue tentacles, but now they are smaller.  No, Rin realizes; they are the same size and the golden shell is ten times as large.  The tentacles weave together like thread, stitching a massive shape together.  An extension… no an arm.  Rin recognizes the musculature of the bicep before the fingers are formed.  More tentacles wrap themselves around the ribs and form an abdomen.  Within moments, a titan stands on the street behind Maruki, a man-shape a hundred meters tall.  An eerie cry splits the air as it stands up to its full height and stares down at the rooftop the Thieves are on, which only comes up to its waist.  Its faces is neon cyan teeth and two lidless glass eyes.

“Maruki…” Mona utters as the rest of them stare up in awe.  Even Crow and Oracle seem to be at a loss for words.  “He’s evolved his Persona.”

Light shines and golden armor encases the black muscles and flesh of Maruki’s new Persona.  Maruki steps off the piece of the debris as it falls past the rooftop, and picks up his staff again.  “If it’s for everyone’s happiness, then I don’t care what happens to me!” he shouts, true fire in his words at last.  “Don’t resist, accept it.  With my power and Adam Kadmon’s together, our new reality is nigh!”

Rin recalls, from the same book of myths she remembers the serpent-lion Yaldabaoth from, the story of Adam Kadmon.  The man before man: the ideal that Adam of Eden was fashioned after.  So that is the ultimate form of Maruki’s Persona: the man who never lived.

“I won’t let my dream be stolen like this,” Maruki says, as Adam Kadmon raises a hand and blasts the Thieves with energy.  They are all sent tumbling, but Skull managed to catch Rin by the waist and keep her upright.

“One last fight!” Joker cries out.  “Everyone, give it your all!”

And they do.

Maruki’s Persona gives him the power to withstand incredible punishment, but working together, he is no match for the ten Phantom Thieves.  It takes a while, but they wear him down, such that the doctor turns to a desperate tactic that they had never considered: he gives his body over his Persona.

Akechi attempts to stop him, but Adam Kadmon easily deflects his shots.  The giant lifts Maruki directly up to his head and… consumes him.  The whole area changes as the Persona spikes with power.  Oracle confirms it, but Rin already knows, she can feel the power roiling off of the golden idol as it glows red screams with a voice both familiar and uncanny.

“I am thou, thou art I!” roars the fusion of Adam Kadmon and Maruki.  Shards of glass float past them in drifts on the wind as Maruki’s Palace continues to disintegrate behind the titanic Persona.  There is nothing left but defeat: theirs or his.

The blow the Persona strikes on them is staggering.  It reels back and slams down on the rooftop with a glowing fist, the shock-wave knocking them all off their feet.  They scramble to try and respond, but the golden giant simply pulls back its fist and slams it back down.  Rin sees the roof of the building begin to crack beneath their feet as she tumbles from the attack.  Noir helps her back up as Mona and Queen make sure the team is in top shape, but they can’t get any attack to stick.  Oracle chatters in her UFO, but they can’t escape the relentless blows from Adam Kadmon.  The Persona releases another attack, and Rin notices a corner of the roof crumble and fall away, almost taking Violet with it.  Skull saves her from tumbling over the edge, but Rin’s sure the roof won’t survive another attack, even if they do.

“I’ve got it!” Oracle tells them over the mental link. “That’s all its power right there, that one slam.  While it’s actually swinging, it’s vulnerable!  His head is almost defenseless!”

“Then we’ve got to hold it down,” Queen says, and each of the thieves agrees.  Even Rin knows what they have to do.  

“We’ll leave this to you, Joker,” Mona says as Adam raises his glowing fist, ready to crush the Thieves. They each summon their Persona, and ready themselves for the impact.  Rin doesn’t know if Artemisia is as powerful as everyone else’s Persona, but she’ll give it her all.

Light flares as the attack lands, but does not send them scattered.  Each Thief uses their Persona to hold the blow back, each of them putting all their strength into holding the monstrous Kadmon in place.  Rin distantly hears the monster cry out a single “What?” in confusion.  Each of them shouts or cries out, taking a stand and making sure they give it their all.

“We’ll decide for ourselves what we want our lives to be!” Violet shouts next to Rin.

The words come naturally to Rin for the first time in a long time.  “The only one who can tell us what to be is us!” she says, her words almost drowned out by the roar of the attack they are all holding back.  She refocuses, and makes sure that Artemisia pulls her weight.

“Its head’s defense is at zero percent!” Oracle cries out. “Go for it, Joker!”

Joker nods, then gets to work.  He darts between pieces of falling debris, his unreal acrobatic skills on full display.  He casts out his grappling hook, snagging a hanging piece of the nearby building, and swinging towards Kadmon’s head.

“No,” the titan decrees, and from her spot at the edge of the group, Rin can see the Persona’s eyes flash, and twin beams of light shoot from its eyes, dislodging the debris Joker is attached to and causing an explosion, launching Joker away.  

Rin doesn’t know what to do.  Oracle’s triangle Persona is too far away and Joker is falling fast.  She wants to summon her own Persona, but Artemisia is already summoned, holding back the titan’s fist that threatens to crush them.  There’s no way…

A thought enters Rin’s head.  A crazy thought.  She’s never done anything like it, but that barely gives her pause; she does new things all the time, this is no different.  She reaches out with her heart, and believes…

Joker’s tumbling comes to a halt, as a figure bursts into existence beneath him.  In an eruption of azure flames and broken chains, a massive figure in a hooded robe appears beneath him.  Giordano catches Joker, the orbital model in his hand acting like a plate to catch the leader of the Phantom Thieves.  Joker looks around, bewildered.  He looks back and forth from Giordano to Rin, with Artemisia Lomi still summoned.  She has summoned two Persona at once, something that Joker has never seen before, if his shocked expression is any indication.

“Fly, Trickster,” Giodano says, the nebula swirling inside his hood. “Fly beyond the stars, where you belong.”   He launches Joker up, right to the top of Oracle’s Persona.  Rin’s glad she was able to help, as her knees begin to weaken.  Al-Azif rotates rapidly, launching Joker at Kadmon’s head like a baseball pitch.  Rin catches a glimpse of him right as another flash of light signals more laser attacks from the Persona’s eyes.  Joker dodges them in mid-air, but Rin isn’t entirely sure how.  For a split-second, it almost looks like he has vast bat wings that carry him through the air and let him roll away from the attack…

“Checkmate,” they all hear Joker say over Oracle’s link.  A gunshot rings out, and the pressure above them disappears.  Each of the Thieves steps away and they watch as the form of Adam Kadmon disintegrates into motes of white light.  Rin spots a shape swinging through the dark void left in its wake: It’s Joker, hanging from his grappling hook, carrying Maruki’s limp form under his arm.  He swings down to the roof with the rest of the Thieves, and deposits Maruki.  They all swarm Joker, congratulating and hugging him, but Rin keeps her eyes locked on Maruki.  His mask is fractured, cracked and broken.  He reaches up to try and remove it, but a single piece breaks off instead, crumbling to gold dust in his hand.

“Why…?” he mutters as his Treasure floats down to rest in Joker’s hand. “I gave up everything else… I dedicated all that I have to this dream… so why did I still lose?  Why!?”

“People can't live in dreams,” Queen says as she takes the Treasure from Joker’s hand.

"People live in dreams all the time!” Maruki shouts. “That's what the Phantom Thieves do, they enter the collective unconscious and live in dreams!"

“No, we exist in dreams,” Noir says. “But it's not a place you can live.”

“The things that a human needs to live aren't there,” Skull adds.

“Life is motion, action, change,” Fox opines.

"You lost yourself, between reality and dreams," Panther says.

"Yes,” Crow interjects. “‘Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the shadow.’”

“Between the ideal and the real,” Mona says.

“So what!” Maruki spits out, falling to his knees.

“You can't fix a heart when yours is still bleeding, doctor,” Violet says.

"I'm not hurt!" Maruki says, his voice cracking. “I’m not the one suffering!”

“But you are," Joker explains. "You were hurt just as much as Rumi, but you told yourself that you could just erase all suffering, and it would be okay. You told yourself that you could just put the world in a dream.  You were running away.” 

“Even if I was, so what?” Maruki says, struggling to his feet. “It’s better for people to overcome their own hardships, yes.  But what about those who can’t?  Don’t they deserve happiness?”

“They deserve a chance to grow and overcome their problems, even if it's hard.”  Oracle says.  

“Robbing people of their lives because you think they deserve better,” Violet says, stepping forward. “In that reality, the world can only be what you conceive.  Maybe some people want an easier way, a painless way.  But you can’t flatten the human race into just what you want because of that.”

“Life isn’t about what people deserve,” Rin says, feeling she needs to say her part. “It’s about what you do with the time you have.  You have to keep going.  You can’t unpaint a stroke, you just have to keep creating.”

Maruki sighs, an almost wistful chuckle in his voice. “So neither of you want it…” he says. “I guess I’ve really failed as a counselor…”

Their conversation is cut short as a rumble sounds overhead.  The last remnants of Maruki’s Palace is still falling, and a camera lens the size of a small house falls right through the highway that runs beside and above the rooftop they are on, sending chunks of concrete and rebar everywhere.

“Doctor Maruki!” Violet shouts, reaching out as the section of roof he is standing on buckles and a cloud of dust engulfs him.

Crow grabs her shoulder and holds her back. “Forget him, we need to leave!”

“No good, we’re trapped up here as well,” Fox says, pointing as the part of the building with the fire escape falls off the side.  Rin can feel the entire building buckle; they have almost no time left.

“Everyone, pile in!” Mona shouts, transforming into his van-form.  They all do as they are told.  Rin is forced to lay across the second row, in Skull, Joker and Fox’s laps so all ten of them can fit inside.

“Mona-chan, what are you doing?” Noir says as debris thumps on the roof of the van.  Is Mona trying to shield them from the entire building collapsing?  Like the refrigerator for the archaeologist in that one American movie? It doesn’t seem like a good plan to Rin.

“This is no time to act tough, Mona!” Queen pleads.

“Heh… who said it was an act?” Mona responds, his voice coming from the air conditioning.  Rin can tell that this won’t end well as the entire van begins to lean, the roof collapsing under its tires.

Violet inhales sharply in the front seat, and Rin recognizes the sound of sudden inspiration striking. “Mona-senpai, can you fly?”  It’s such a simple idea that Rin could have come up with it, but she recognizes an idea that is both good and bad at the same time.

“I’ve told you, I can’t…” Mona begins, then rethinks it. “No, I can! It’s now or never!”

Mona roars with power, and as the roof beneath them gives way, Rin notices a star-shaped glow in Joker’s pocket grow to a blinding light, one that she has to shut her eyes against.

A moment later, and a rhythmic chopping sound fills the air.  Also, Rin is no longer lying down, she’s vertical, and she’s looking out on the city at night, with the glass ruins of Maruki’s Palace littered all over the buildings…

It dawns on Rin what exactly happened as she looks around: She’s in a helicopter.

“A helicopter?” Fox says, holding Rin by the shoulder.  She manages to glance behind her to see why: the interior of the helicopter is full to bursting with other Phantom Thieves.  She’s doing her best to stand just outside the compartment, with Yusuke reaching around Noir to steady her and keep her anchored.

“If you could do this all along, then you should have said so, dammit!” Oracle shouts, buried somewhere in the pile.

“I didn’t know I could!” Mona responds, his voice coming from the control panel that Queen is tentatively steering.  It is only then that Rin realizes who the helicopter is.  

It makes sense to her.

“Where’s Joker?” Skull asks, slightly distraught.

“Down below,” Rin says, looking past the platform she’s standing on to the landing strut, which has a thin metal filament wrapped around it.  On the other end of that wire is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, saved by his trusty grappling hook again.  He twists in the wind as they rise above the ruined building, giving a lazy wave to Rin and Fox.

“As carefree as ever, eh?” Fox muses.

They continue their journey upwards as the rest of them argue about how cramped the interior is, before Queen silences them.  “We’ve just got to find a safe spot to-”

She is cut off as the helicopter lurches to one side.  Rin leans into Yusuke’s grip, but it's tenuous.  She looks down over the side to see what could be the cause, only to find an infuriatingly familiar sight.  A tentacle, black and teal, wrapped around their support strut, pulling the entire helicopter back down.  Rin traces the black line back down to its source, and sees Maruki, standing on one of the enormous slabs of glass that used to orbit his Palace.  His Persona isn’t visible, just the single tentacle, but it is solidly anchored, as evidenced by the way he is pulling them back. 

Rin feels the entire rest of the Thieves shift inside the cockpit as the entire helicopter leans to one side… the side Rin is hanging out.  

Rin rarely curses.  She doesn’t much see the point, but when she sees Maruki dragging them back, she is about to really let loose.  She doesn’t get the chance, though. The foulest language she knows is on the tip of her tongue when she feels Fox’s grip on her shoulder slip.

She sees Fox try to reach out, but he’s pinned by Oracle and Noir trying to hold themselves in.  He stretches his hand out as far as he can, but Rin has nothing to reach back out with.  No hands, no arms.  Fox grasps at air as Rin falls from the helicopter.  She falls past Joker, who makes a grab for her, but can’t react in time.

Rin looks up at the helicopter, her head full of a resounding silence as she falls. It’s like a child’s toy, she thinks. Like a toy with an action figure dangling from a bit of string.  She tries to summon her Personas, but she’s exhausted. She hears her name past the roar of wind in her ears, but she can’t respond.  She doesn’t want her last words to be a scream, and she knows that is all that will come out of her right now.

Above her, she sees Joker let go of his grappling hook, and he falls after her.  He’s falling faster, chasing her like a bullet.  Before Rin can even form an opinion on that, she sees two large, mechanical bat-like wings sprout from behind Joker, and then he’s caught up to her and a large arm that is not Joker’s is carrying her…

Her vision swims, and she’s unable to find her balance, but soon enough, she’s being set on her feet, next to Joker on one of the monolithic glass pieces.  The figure setting her down is a Persona, no doubt about it. It’s almost four meters tall, and dressed in a bright red suit jacket with golden trim and matching red fedora.  It has massive stitched wings shaped like a bat’s, and its demonic face splits in a red grin. Its mouth holds a single cigarette, smoke trailing up and away.

“Thank you, Raoul,” Joker says to it, and it tips its hat at both him and Rin with golden talons, before fading away and disintegrating into shard and petals of sparkling light. Rin notices that Joker’s mask doesn’t reform.  Something’s happening. Joker turns around and Rin follows his gaze to see Maruki standing nearby.  His mask has crumbled even more, there’s almost nothing of it left.

“Sorry to cut your flight short, but it seems you made due,” he says, his tone casual and nearly conversational. “This reality is done for.  You shattered my mask, defeated my Persona…” He reaches up and pulls his mask off his face, but it falls to pieces, and all he is left holding is a shard of gold.  

Rin is about to say something, but Joker holds his hand up, seeming to almost anticipate her words. “I’ve lost. That much is plain to see,” Maruki continues, letting his staff fall away and clatter off the edge of the glass plane. “I’d have no chance of defeating you now.  I can’t go back, as you all said.”

“Then what are we here for?” Rin asks, disregarding Joker’s hand.  

“This…” Maruki begins then falters. “This is going to sound stupid, I know, but…”

“Just tell us, Doctor,” Joker says, calmly and evenly. It’s at that moment that Rin finally understands why he is the leader. To be so calm, even now…

“I carried that torch… that dream for so long,” Maruki says. “Even if I was hiding from my own pain…  I want to move on… but a dream can't just be abandoned, you know? It has already rotted my heart, poisoned my soul. I can't set it aside. It needs… a dream needs to be killed. Please… help me kill my dream.  Help me kill my regrets and move on."

“Just me?” Joker asks, taking a step forward.

“I didn’t mean to involve you in this, Tezuka-san. I’m sorry,” Maruki says. “I just needed to ask this of him… Kurusu-kun, you were my confidant, my assistant, my guiding light. You helped light my way on the path to my dream.  So… I have to ask you, and you alone, to help me back.”

Rin feels something on her face. No, she suddenly feels nothing on her face: her mask is disintegrating into the same petals of light that Joker’s Persona did, as the same happens to Maruki’s outfit, leaving him in the pure-white suit.

“The disappearance of my Palace… and the entire Metaverse is nigh,” Maruki explains. “No more Personas, no more Shadows, no more cognitive beings.”

Rin calls to Artemisia and Giordano in her mind, but hears only distant replies.  Personas can’t be destroyed, but the means of manifesting them can be. She wants to object, but Joker holds up another hand and turns to her. “It’s okay, Witch,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I owe him this much. Just… step back.”

Rin isn’t sure what is happening, but she knows a personal battle when she sees one.  Maruki and Joker have known each other for a while, and so she takes a step back, content to watch whatever unfolds.

As specks of white snow drift down from the dark sky, Maruki roars. “I gave up everything for this! EVERYTHING!” And he lunges forward, punching Joker squarely in the face.  

Rin is perplexed as Joker takes it, then raises his own fist and returns: “And whose fault is THAT?” Joker’s punch sends Maruki reeling, almost on his knees.  After all the amazing feats they’ve done, it’s both comical and heartbreaking to watch an ordinary fistfight.  They continue to shout at each other, Maruki pouring out his frustrations and regrets, and Joker walking him through it like…

Like a counselor.

Except Rin is reasonably certain that a normal therapy session doesn’t involve quite so much violence. She’s not sure; her experience is very limited.

Back at Yamaku, before Hisao, Rin listened to a girl with a muscle disease talk about how she saw two boys beat the daylights out of each other on the side of the road back in her hometown. They were good friends, best friends even, but one day she said she saw the two of them punching and grabbing and brawling with each other.  And after it was done, they laughed and spoke to each other as friends.  They just needed some way to say something without words.

Rin has her paintings, and she supposes that these two have an unchecked, raw physical beatdown. It must be a boy thing. She doesn’t understand, but that’s okay, because she knows that Joker does.

After a few more blows exchanged, both Maruki and Joker stumble away from each other with bruised and swollen faces. Maruki huffs and sighs, then falls to his knees and lets out a scream unlike anything she has ever heard before. It’s a raw, pure red of pain, the sound that comes from him. It's a deep, bottomless sorrow leaving his body; it’s all the anguish he’s suppressed since his fiancé was attacked. As he runs out of breath, he’s left visibly drained, and he collapses to the glass slab.  He’s rendered inert by exhaustion, and both Rin and Joker are right behind him. Rin approaches Joker and inspects him as close as she can. Nothing too bad, just bruising; a trickle of blood from a split lip.

“I get it now,” Maruki murmurs from his position lying spread-eagle on the floor. “Thanks to you two. I can finally stop looking back…”  He reaches up to catch a snowflake in his gloved hand, but it melts as soon as he touches it.

The rumbling of the Palace collapse returns, and Rin watches as a spiderweb cracks shoot through the glass under Maruki.  He makes no move to get away, despite the glass buckling under him. As it shatters, both Joker and her rush forward, Joker with intent and Rin with instinct.

Joker dives then slides over on his front to grab Maruki by the wrist, preventing his fall into the expanding black abyss below, but the glass is tilted, and Joker continues to slide towards the edge. Rin’s options are limited, but she sets her leg near Joker’s other arm and digs in her heels with her fancy combat sandals. Joker grabs her ankle as hoped, but they are still sliding. Lacking any arms or hands to secure them, Rin simply leans over Joker's legs and tries to pin him down.

They stop just as Maruki slides off the falling edge, and the only thing holding him up is Joker’s iron grip on his wrist. The doctor is left dangling from the edge, not even gripping Joker’s hand in return. Joker hisses in pain; Rin guesses he might be dislocating his shoulder or something similar, based on how he’s holding all of Maruki’s weight by one arm.

Maruki hangs limply by his wrist, not even trying to pull himself up.  “Come on…” he says, an air of resigned disbelief in his voice. “I said I’m done. Please… let go of my hand.”

“No!” Rin shouts from her position, leaning on Joker. “You said you ‘get it’ now. That means you have to move forward. You can’t just quit!”

“We’re all going back… together,” Joker adds, strain heavy in his voice.

Maruki sighs, letting his head drop. “You two… you’re still just as honest as when I met both of you.  I was so afraid that you’d reject my world… I guess that's why I never asked.  I really did run away from it all…”  His voice grows weak and almost tearful. “I really was delusional, thinking I could make a better world than the one that made you two…”

Rin strains to try and keep Joker anchored, trying to keep both of them safe.  As she leans as hard as she can and digs her heels in, a distant sound approaches, cutting over the sound of the Palace slowly erasing, of reality ebbing away.  The distant drone of a helicopter grows louder as Mona’s helicopter form circles back around, his spotlight pointing right at them as the world fades to white and the Metaverse ends.

Chapter Text

Akira looked down at his hands.  No red gloves, and he felt his prop glasses on his face.  He was back in his Shujin uniform, as he had worn at the beginning of the day, before the insanity of Maruki’s Persona.

He was back in a cell: his cell in the Velvet Room.  The door that had once barred exit was missing, so he stood and exited.  What awaited him outside was only half-familiar, in a very literal sense.  The right side of the room he entered was the circular area he knew well from his adventure over the past year, but to his left, the room changed.  Half of the space had become a large gallery, the walls plain but dark blue, holding paintings in various golden frames, with the deeper recesses of it being draped in blue fabric.  Next to him was Rin, dressed in her winter outfit, a glass door obscured by mist behind her.  She was looking around much as she always did, with mild disinterest, as if this imaginary space they found themselves in was perfectly average.

Much to his own amusement, Akira realized that was how he regarded the Velvet Room at this point.

They weren’t alone in the Room. In fact, the room was positively crowded compared with the normal population of three.  In the border between where the two halves of the merged Room was Igor’s writing desk, with the bizarre old man himself sitting behind it, fingers threaded and eyes bloodshot as always.  Beside the desk stood Lavenza, but she wasn’t focused on them.  Lavenza was instead speaking to another woman who looked like nothing so much as an adult version of her with wavy hair.  The woman was tall, thin and had the same pale skin, platinum hair, and yellow eyes, with a very similar style of dress.  Behind the desk, standing in the gallery section of the room were two more individuals: one Akira recognized and one he did not.  Elizabeth was there, still with the brown coat over the blue outfit that Akira suspected was standard for what he had to assume was Lavenza’s ‘family.’  Elizabeth was talking to a man who had all the same traits as what looked like his sisters, but with a formal outfit that looked like an elevator attendant.

Akira glanced back over as Rin spotted him.  “Your face isn’t bruised,” she said, then nodded to the semi-circle of empty jail cells. “Your Velvet Room is pretty sad.”

Akira felt obscurely embarrassed.  When the rest of the Phantom Thieves had been in here, they hadn’t questioned much of the Velvet Room; there hadn’t been time.  But with the prison in his heart laid bare, he felt pretty self-conscious.  Regardless, best to take it in stride.  “Yours does seem much nicer,” he said.  He looked past Elizabeth and her brother to see a large painting of what looked like the black silhouette of a deer with green eyes, and a raven perched on its antlers.  Elizabeth looked over at them and waved, but her brother simply nodded to them.

“It is good you see you again, Trickster,” Lavenza said with a slight bow, having finally noticed the two of them.  They both approached the desk, Rin on the gallery tile and Akira on the prison stone, until they both stood on the large circular rug that straddled both halves of the room.

“Hello again, Margeret,” Rin said to the older sister.

“And hello to you as well,” the older woman with wavy hair and a hairband replied.  Her voice was smooth and bright, which contrasted with Lavenza’s breathy tones.  “It is good to see you safe again.”

“What a magnificent job you have done,” Igor said.  Akira still found himself being surprised by the real Igor’s creaky voice, as opposed to the distorted bass of the imposter’s voice. “You have taken back the world and future of not just mankind, but yourselves.”

“Your actions have guided reality back to its proper form, free from the distortion of both god and man,” Margaret said.

“Then that means it’s just like the fusion, right?” Akira asked. “It will all be undone?  Maruki’s reality will have never happened?”

“Correct,” Lavenza said. “No force can turn back time to that point, but the world you return to will be one where reality was never altered.”

“I guess we will have to play catch-up,” Rin said, looking at Akira with sarcasm in her eyes, but he barely noticed.

“What should have occurred…” he murmured to himself.  When this had happened before, it had been a few hours of events that had been undone, but if Maruki had begun his plan on Christmas, then everything since then was suspect.  What was the first thing he had changed?

The answer came to him instantly.  Talking with Sae in the Christmas snow and asking him to surrender himself to help with Shido’s prosecution, and how that would mean admitting he’d violated his probation.  Looking back, it had been extremely convenient how Akechi had just appeared to take the fall.  Really, he should have suspected something much earlier.  But now, if Akechi had never returned from the dead, that meant…

“I won’t be there,” Akira muttered.

“Where will you be?” Rin asked, tilting her head curiously.  Lavenza and Margeret looked away, sensing the shift in tone.  Even Igor bowed his head.

“Akechi wasn’t… he was recreated by Maruki,” Akira said, explaining to himself as much as Rin. “Just like you were sent to Yamaku.  So if that never happened, then you have a month of time back at Kosei, and the people at Yamaku probably won’t remember you being back.”

“Okay,” Rin said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But what about…”  She paused for a second. “I saw Akechi on Christmas.  He gave me his coat before he walked away.”

“He agreed to testify against Shido then, so I didn’t have to,” Akira said. “Without him, I’ll be sent to prison.”

Rin looked away, staring at the painting of the deer and the raven on the wall.  It didn’t look like her style.  Akira thought that her version of the Velvet Room might be occupied by art in her own style, but apparently not.  Distantly, he wondered who had created these pieces.

“Everything shall return to how it should be. Everything,” Lavenza said, her gentle but firm tone at odds with her ominous words. “There are no exceptions.”

“But…” Rin began. “My old paintings…”

“Regardless, you must prepare for the future,” Margaret said. “If you have any regrets, stow them.”

“It was the only way,” Akira said, to himself and to Rin.

“There were many ways,” Rin retorted. “We just picked one that worked.”

“Such a path is not an easy road to walk,” Lavenza interjected. “And no one is suggesting  you ignore the prices paid.  We are quite grateful for your choice.”

Akira sighed as Rin looked away.  He tried to think of what to say.  They would remember their time together, but it would be undone.  What would it mean to have art never be painted, Akira wondered.

“So, when we leave, you’ll be in prison?” Rin asked.

“Most likely,” Akira said.

“We will get you out,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you,” he said as the residents of the Velvet Room faded away, leaving them in darkness.

Yusuke completed his round of the Odaiba construction site.  After the Metaverse had faded away, they had been deposited outside the fence on where they had entered the Palace from, minus Morgana, Akechi and Akira.  It was early in the morning as he and Ryuji had done a quick walk-about, trying to see if they could locate any of them, to no avail.  The MetaNav App was also missing, but that was at least foreseen.  

“Where could they be?” Makoto wondered aloud, her voice thick with concern.

“This is our original reality, right?” Ann asked. “We didn’t slide into some weird alternate dimension, right?”

“No one stepped on any butterflies,” Futaba murmured to herself.

Yusuke looked over at Rin, who was still still dressed in her shawl and green beanie, but it was now on top of the Kosei winter uniform.  She was looking at the ground, avoiding the conversation.  “Rin, what do you think?” Yusuke found himself asking.

She didn’t immediately respond, but seemed to shift in place.  “I think I know,” she said. “But we should head back to the hideout.  It’s cold.”

Yusuke could recognize stalling when he saw it, but let it be.  They all rode the train back to Yongen, and on the way back they encountered Morgana, who seemed to be just as confused about being separated, but after a brief discussion with him, Sojiro and Rin they were able to get a grasp of the situation.

“So that means Akira was forced to turn himself over, as he intended that night…” Makoto mused.

“This is so messed up!” Futaba complained, gripping her knees tightly as she crouched in the booth seat.  “It’s like loading someone else’s save!  We missed so much.”

“And… Akechi knew what was happening the whole time?” Ryuji asked. “Like, he knew that us defeating Maruki would mean and he kept going along with it?”

“Yes,” Morgana confirmed. “He and Akira spoke about it last night.  He didn’t want anyone else to know.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Haru said. “Even with all he did, I might have tried to talk him out of it.  It’s… a serious matter.”

Yusuke looked at Rin.  She was staring down at the table.  She didn’t seem to want to be part of this conversation.

“He chose what he wanted, just as well all did,” Sumire said, placing both hands on the table. “But even if we chose this reality, I can’t accept the injustice that Kurusu-senpai had to take the fall for this!  We have to do something.”

“That’s right!” Ann added. “We can definitely do something about this.”

“You’re studying law, Makoto,” Yusuke said. “What can be done about a minor violating their probation?”

“Sis and I talked about it a while ago,” Makoto said. “Not much, short of the original conviction being overturned, but that’s…  No.” She paused, clearly rethinking her words. “We can do it.  We need to prove his innocence.”

“We just gotta get that evidence, right?” Ryuji said. “I’m guessin’ Shido just confessing won’t be enough?”

“Most likely not,” Makoto said. “But we can stir public support to reopen an investigation and try to track down any witnesses to what happened.”

“That’s our Queen for you,” Morgana said, trotting down from his perch. “Always a plan.”

“Then let us show the world what the Phantom Thieves can do,” Yusuke said, standing from his stool. “One last time.”

They all cheered and vowed to help… all but Rin, who seemed preoccupied.  As they broke their meeting to see what they could do and prepare for the new day, Rin remained behind.  Instead of leaving, she walked up the stairs to Akira’s room.  Yusuke wasn’t sure what was happening, so he followed Futaba up after her.

She was looking around, a somewhat disappointed, mournful emotion in her eyes.  The room was as it had been before Rin had moved in for three weeks; the folding futon bed was gone, replaced by the old bench, and the spot where her easel had sat was empty.

“It never happened…” Rin said, staring at the floor.

“I mean, not here… but we remember, Rin,” Futaba said. 

“And remember how Boss had weird deja vu and thought he remembered Akira being around?” Morgana said, hopping up on the counter.  “Even if it never happened physically, it lives on, in our hearts!”

But perhaps it was more than just a memory, Yusuke thought as he spotted a bit of plywood and canvas in an opposite corner. “What’s this?” he asked as he crossed over and pulled the stack of canvases from behind the couch.  Futaba and Rin moved closer as Yusuke laid them out.  They were the paintings that Rin had made while rooming with Akira: a swirl of grasping hands, a blue worm burrowing into an apple and an abstract of red and blue that seemed half-finished.

“I saw you paint these in Maruki’s world,” Morgana said, crossing through their legs and inspecting the paintings. “How can they be here?”

“Well, how are you still here and still talking, Mona?” Futaba asked. “Some things slip through the cracks, it seems.”

Rin stared at the canvases like she was trying to bore a hole in them.  “Can you help me carry these back to Kosei?” she finally asked after a long, long moment of her inspecting them.  Yusuke nodded and secured the canvases with packing paper and twine, before accompanying Rin on the train back to Kosei.  As they got in and Rin opened the door to her room, it was uncanny to find a room that looked well-lived in, when Yusuke remembered finding it abandoned with several of Rin’s pre-fusion paintings in the corner.

Those paintings were laid against the far wall, despite Yusuke bringing them to Rin at Leblanc in Maruki’s world.  Trying to wrap his head around the rhyme or reason of what changed and what didn't was giving him a headache.

The whole trip back Rin had remained silent, staring off into space.  After he laid each of her new paintings on an easel in the room, he moved to leave but had to ask. “What’s on your mind, Rin?”

She didn’t immediately answer, but turned and looked around her room before meeting Yusuke’s eyes. “I’m trying to think of a way to help Akira,” she said. “I don’t have a Worry Tree anymore, so it’s really stressful.”

“You can ask for help,” Yusuke said. “We’re all in this together.”

“The problem is that the person I want to ask doesn’t exist,” Rin said before sitting down on her bed.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked, at a loss for what to ask.

“Do you have money for it?” Rin asked, a smile in her voice.  She was right to question it, but he got her to smile, which was a win in his mind.

Rin sits alone in her room.  The Phantom Thief chat is busy, as are all of Akira’s other friends.  She hasn’t said much in it, but the Phantom Thieves are constantly discussing what to do to help Akira.

(Rin hadn’t even been part of the chat in this reality.  They had to add her and Sumire last night.)

Rin’s mind is elsewhere.  She stares at the paintings she made in Maruki’s world and wonders how they survived.  Just like how her old paintings at Kosei somehow ended up in her room in Maruki’s world, her paintings made in his world persisted outside of it.  It makes no sense by the rules of what they were told, but Rin likes that.  Just like Morgana had apparently survived without the Metaverse, there are some things that the mere rules of reality can not erase.  Important things.

She also can’t help but notice that she has two green beanies now.

Earlier in the morning, she checked in on the Phantom Thief chat, but decided to use her virtual assistant for the first time since they returned.  And something strange happened: EMMA had a record it could not have.  In her normal messaging app there was just the history of her just being let into the Thief’s chat the previous day, but when she opened it with EMMA, the lost record reappeared.  There was the long log of her time as part of the Phantom Thieves in January, and all that happened in Maruki’s reality, preserved.  Rin doesn’t know how, but she knows she can use it.  It means something.

There is one name in that alternate chat history that is no longer there.  One that she knows no longer exists.  And if she calls that number, then no one should answer.

But Rin’s faith in what should and should not be possible is almost nonexistent.  Evidence to the contrary is sitting on easels in her room.

Her mind made up, Rin instructs EMMA to dial the phone number.  It rings, rings, rings.  There is no answer, but that feels natural.  Rin leaves a message in the voicemail box with a time and place.  She stands, slips her phone into her pocket and gets dressed as best she can.  Some clever hooks by the door help her with her shawl and hat.

It’s an hour’s ride to Odaiba.  She could have sent a different location, but only the person who owned that phone number would know what that location meant.  So she arrives back on the artificial island.  She almost automatically navigates to the construction site, then follows her memory to the park with the large green woman statue.  As Rin waits, she looks at the torch that she holds aloft.  It reminds her of Maruki’s treasure in a way.  She’s early, and it’s not too cold out for February, so she lets her mind wander and waits.

And waits.

Rin made sure to get some of the socks and shoes like those that Akira bought for her, so she’s not as cold as she would be waiting.

As the sun finally sets and the streetlamps begin to come on, someone walks up behind her.  Rin barely notices, she’s spent the last hour wondering if a tree can taste what dirt used to be.

“How did you know?” a male voice asks.

“I don’t know much,” Rin replies, not turning to look. “I’m really good at not knowing things.  That's why I called the phone number of someone who doesn’t exist anymore.”

A mirthless chuckle.  “I’m not even sure what happened myself,” the boy with shaggy brown hair says, leaning on the railing next to Rin, arms folded. “But I’m also unsure what I even am.  My reputation seems… muddled now, and no one seems to recognize me.  Do you know what happened?”

Rin thinks for a second, thinks of how to explain what she needs the boy to learn.  After a long moment, she tries: “I had a hat before.  A green beanie that I really liked.”

“I can see that.  You wore it,” he says.

“A friend bought it for me,” she continues.  “Then the world changed and we weren’t friends anymore.  So a new friend bought me the same hat.  Then all of that unhappened.  And now… I have two hats.  The same hat, bought twice.  I should only have one, but somehow, I have two.  And I can’t tell which is which.  And… I don’t think it matters.”

She looks over at the boy, into his dark, amber eyes.  He nods slowly as she finishes, and Rin is relieved.  She doesn’t really know how else to tell him, so she is quite pleased that he understands.

“What do you want from me?” he asks.

“I need help,” Rin says. “My friend is in prison.  He did nothing wrong, and he needs to be let go, but I don’t know how.”

He contemplates for a moment, idly pulling his black leather gloves tighter on his hands.  “Do you want advice?”

She shakes her head; now he’s not getting it. “No, he needs to be free.”

He places his hands on the railing and looks out over the park, eyes lingering on the statue.  “I can help out with that.  Turn up some leads for your friends to follow up on.  But on one condition.”  Rin says nothing, and eventually he states his condition: “They can’t know.”

“Know what?” Rin asks.

“That I’m still alive,” he says.

“I don’t even know you,” Rin says, turning away to look over the park. “I thought I might, but that person is gone forever.  So you can’t be him.  But I think you are someone who can choose what to do with your life.  And I would appreciate it if you could help my friend.”

He lets out a snort, Rin can’t tell if it's exasperation or derision. “I thought you were odd, but you’re actually the sharpest of the bunch,” he says.

“That’s a funny thing to hear from someone I don’t know,” she says.

That same snort again. “Okay.  I’ll help.  I’ll send a few leads to Queen.”  He turns to look at Rin, and she does the same. “But I need to go my own way, to figure out what this all means for me.  You can’t tell them about me, understand?”

“Tell them about who?” Rin says, tilting her head.

He sighs and touches his hand to his forehead.  He smiles, then waves her off before he begins walking away.  “Goodbye, Witch,” he says.

“Goodbye, stranger,” Rin says as he walks away into the night.

She stays for a few minutes more, watching the people wander around nighttime Odaiba.  It feels good to watch real people again, after Maruki’s world.  Eventually, the chill deepens enough that she’s left shivering in the dark, so she heads back to the train station.

Over the next few days, the chat is abuzz with talk of how to save Akira.  Apparently, they are not alone in this.  The rest of Akira’s friends and confidants have been trying to get him released for the past month.  The group tries to puzzle out what exactly they were doing in this reality, but Rin tunes out for that particular discussion; it makes her head hurt.

But the support she can see for Akira is encouraging.  Chika’s boyfriend is collecting signatures, she saw the airsoft man talking to some people about him under a bridge, Hifumi gives an interview on TV about him, and even a politician who gives speeches in Shibuya is talking about him.  It makes Rin think of the support around her.  The Phantom Thieves, Hifumi, Chika and her boyfriend.  She looks over at her older paintings, the ones of her old classmates at Yamaku.  Her exhibit is approaching in just a few months… but there is something she needs to do before that, once Akira is free.

Less than a week after they start Makoto gets a tip on who to ask about finding the woman that helped convict Akira.  The rest of the Thieves press her on who told her, but all she can say is that she got a letter with no return address.  She briefly floats the idea of getting Sae to search it for forensic evidence, but decides it's not worth it.

On February thirteenth, Akira is released from his imprisonment.  

As Boss drives to pick him up, Makoto breaks down exactly what happened for them as they sit around Leblanc.  Finding the woman that was pressured into giving false testimony and getting to reverse her statement was the key.  Most of that goes over Rin’s head, but she gets the gist.  That would have gotten him out, but the thing that helped it along so quickly was the public outcry that the rest of the Thieves and Akira’s supporters have been stirring up.

When he finally arrives back, they all greet him enthusiastically.  It has been less than two weeks for them, but the month of real prison time shows; he’s thinner and paler than Rin remembers.  They all joke about it, but it’s clear he’s beyond grateful to be free.  They discuss his situation, how he’ll be leaving in March and so on.  Rin is briefly afraid when they talk about disbanding the Phantom Thieves, especially when the date that Akira is leaving is so close to her birthday, but it’s clear that they still love each other, and still will support each other.  It just might be over a chat room more often soon.

As the night wears on, Akira speaks to Rin privately as the rest of the Thieves are trying to construct a working meal plan for Yusuke.

“Thank you for all you’ve done, Rin,” he says, to her confusion.

“You already thanked us,” she replies.

He pauses for a moment. “That moment in the Velvet Room… I was more afraid than I cared to admit.  But somehow, I knew I could rely on you.”

Rin shakes her head. “No, I just talked to some people.  It was everyone else that did all the work.”

There is a look in his eye that Rin can’t parse, and then he nods and moves to fill her coffee cup again.

Ann and Haru are very kind and help her with her chocolates for the day after Valentine's day, along with Chika.  More than anything, they help her remember who she should give chocolate to.  The boys in her life… There’s one she won’t be seeing on that day.  But if she can move forward with her plan… then maybe…

As she works more and more on her art and the date of her gallery opening draws nearer, she keeps thinking of the pieces she painted of her former classmates at Yamaku.  Something needs to be done.

Right as March begins, Ryuji calls a get-together at Leblanc, one that they are all eager to attend.  Sumire is away on a training trip, but the rest of them can make it.

As they sit around Leblanc after school, Boss busies himself with cleaning dishes and cups.  The air is heavier than normal, like they all have something important to say, but can’t decide who goes first.

“So…” Ryuji begins. “I’ve been thinkin’ of movin’ away.”  They all perk up at that, but he continues: “Everything we went though this past year… It’s got me thinkin’.  I dunno if I want to still run or not… but I can’t decide that unless I’m serious about my rehab.”  His leg is jiggling again, as it so often does.  Rin remembers Emi talking about rehab and how painful it was. “So I wanna move closer to a place with a good physical therapy program, so I can get my leg properly fixed while still goin’ to school.  I might… I might be moving next month.  I’ll have to see, my mom is still looking at places.”

“That’s quite sudden,” Yusuke remarks, a weird mix of trepidation and depression on his face.

“I mean…” Ann begins. “I’m also looking at studying abroad for a little bit.  I want to explore more options for my career, and find something I’m passionate about.”

Makoto and Haru shared a quick glance before Makoto spoke up. “Haru and I are also about to begin college, so we’ll be moving as well.  Probably a little before the end of the school year, so around April as well.”

Rin begins to realize that the break-up of the Phantom Thieves might be more immediate than she first thought.

“I’m going to continue to learn about the company while attending college,” Haru says. “Mako-chan and I were talking earlier, we probably won’t be able to get together like this in the future.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Boss speaks up from behind the counter. “Are you going to tell them, or should I?” he asked, looking at Futaba.

She rocks back and forth in the booth for a moment before speaking. “I, uh… I passed the high school entrance exam.  I’m heading back to school in April.”

They all politely clap for her, or at least those of them with hands do.  Morgana and Rin just say ‘congratulations.’

“I’m gonna go to high school, then college… get a degree and study cognitive psience for real!” she says, growing excited as she talks.

(It’s good news, but if what Rin understands is correct, Futaba is smart enough to go to college right now, but she supposes these things have to be done in a certain order.)

“Even Futaba is moving on…” Yusuke muses. “I wish you all the best of luck.  I’ll be at Kosei for a bit longer, trying to figure out what it is that I want to do.”

“I think these are all great signs,” Akira says as Morgana nods along. “We all have a bond that can’t be broken, no matter how far apart we are.

“True.” Yusuke agrees. “Though, I suppose you’ll be graduating and leaving soon as well, Rin?”

Rin can feel all their gazes turn to her.  It’s now or never.

“Rin?” Akira asks as she thinks.  She’s taking too long, but she needs to word this right.

“I’m… not sure what I want to do next,” she begins. “I have ideas, but I need to know if they are good ideas.  So I wanted to ask a favor of you all.”

They all nod slowly, as unsure where she is going with this as she feels.

“It’s my birthday soon.  The thirteenth, actually.  I’m turning nineteen, I think.”

They all make sounds of surprise and joy.  “Two Mondays from now.  We’ll have to celebrate, then!” Haru says.

“Thanks, but what I really want… is help.”  She stops, takes a breath.  It seems selfish and stupid, but she needs to ask. “I painted a bunch of my old classmates from my old school.  And I never asked them.  I want to use them as pieces in my show… but I want to ask them.  I want to show them.  But I’m bad at carrying things.”  She looks up from the table she had been staring intently into and meets the eyes of her teammates.  “I would really like if you all helped me go to Sendai the Sunday before and talk to them.  Helped me show them the paintings.”

They all look at one another, but Rin doesn’t try to decode the expressions they give each other and continues: “It’s not just paintings, there’s someone very important to me that I want to talk to.  I need to know what his plans are.”

“I would help you with this without question,” Yusuke says.

“Of course we can help with that, Rin,” Makoto says, her voice gentle, before suddenly tensing up and looking around. “I mean, I can.  I don’t want to speak for anyone else.”

“I got nothin’ else goin’ on that weekend,” Ryuji says, leaning against the counter.

“A day trip to Sendai sounds fun!” Ann says. “And I’d like to see if Ibarazaki-san is still there.”

“Hrm…” Haru muses. “I was going to pick out furniture for my new apartment, but I think I can move that.  This is obviously very important for you, Rin.” 

“Will there be… talking to people?” Futaba asks, dread in her voice as she rocks slightly.  Akira clears his throat, and Futaba nods slowly. “I… I can do that for you, Rin.  It’s just a day trip.”

“Thank you,” she says to the group.

“Well, I would love to but I have to decline,” Akira says. The rest of the group looks at him disappointedly. “I know, but I have to do a bunch of make-up work and administrative stuff with Ms. Kawakami that Sunday on account of the whole, you know, prison thing.”

“Really?” Ryuji asks, exasperated. “You can’t get her to move it?”

“Well, maybe you should have gotten me out of prison sooner!” Akira says, chuckling.

“I guess that means I’m staying too,” Morgana says, scratching behind his ear. “I don’t feel like riding the train in someone else’s bag, and I'll need to feed him answers on the test.”

"You've never known the answer to any question in class, why start now?" Akira says, and they each chuckle.

“It’s okay,” Ann says.  “We can still have another get-together before you two leave.”

“Leave the planning to me,” Haru says, retrieving her phone. “Let’s see… seven train tickets to… Sendai and back, right?  And I suppose we’ll want to see the sights while we’re there…”

Rin smiles as she looks over to Yusuke.  He smiles back, and gives a knowing nod.  Rin has a lot of reasons she wants to go back to Yamaku, and she’s pretty sure that Yusuke knows the big one.  

All that’s left to do is figure out what to say to him.

Chapter Text

Yusuke had ridden in a bullet train before.  Once, on a school trip, years ago.  But he had certainly not ridden in the first-class compartment with individual seats, which is where he found himself with most of the Phantom Thieves.  Between the seven of them, they had the whole compartment to themselves.

Haru had booked their tickets, and apparently she had found such a deal on the van they had secretly decided to drive Akira home in that she could afford the nicest seats on the trip to and from Sendai.  They had met for an early morning rendezvous at Leblanc, then Akira and Morgana had seen them off as they headed north.

It was only an hour and a half trip, so they amused themselves on the way, mostly by indulging in the extravagant comfort of First Class.  An excellent breakfast was served to them, and afterwards they all found ways to pass the time.  Ann relaxed in the extremely plush seats as Ryuji and Futaba debated ‘best girl’ of some manga series.  Yusuke found himself turning his seat around to watch Makoto finish an essay on her notepad, then pull out a map of Sendai and plan their trip.  Haru and Rin sat in a similar arrangement, but instead they silently wanted the landscape speed by.

“It looks like the train station is a little far from Yamaku,” Makoto observed, pointing out each on the map.

“It shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Yusuke said, studying the distance on the map.  A twenty minute walk with a jaunt across the river, maybe half an hour.  They were on schedule to arrive before noon, so it left them plenty of time.

“You’re not the one carrying the paintings,” Makoto said, vaguely gesturing to the square bundle of canvases protected by brown paper that sat at the front of the compartment.

“I can carry them if it’s too much, Mako-chan,” Haru said, breaking her silence.

“No, it's fine Haru,” Makoto rebutted.

The train arrived right on schedule, and they disembarked.

“Might we see Aoba Castle?” Yusuke asked as he helped Makoto with the paintings. “With the statue of Date Masamune?”

“It’s right next to the school,” Rin said, nodding down the street they exited on to from the station.  It was a busy city street, with office buildings lining either side of the road.  From looks alone, one might have thought they were still in Tokyo, but there was some essence that made it feel different.  Maybe it was the much-reduced vehicle traffic, or the cleaner air, or the lower temperature.

“This place is kinda nice,” Ryuji said. “Never been here before.”

“Have you even been outta Tokyo before Ryuji?” Futaba sniped.

“I went on a junior high trip to Kyoto, but we didn’t see much,” Ryuji said, ignoring her tone.

Yusuke decided to pick it up. “Technically, you’re the only person who hasn’t been out of Japan here, Futaba,” he said.

“No way Inari, Rin was…” Futaba began, but then trailed off as Rin shook her head.

“I got sent to Hawaii with the second-years,” she said.  Futaba puffed out her cheeks and pouted.

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Futaba,” Ann said. “You’ll be in high school soon, so I’m sure you’ll have the chance to travel soon.”

As they crossed the bridge over the Hirose River, the office buildings fell away, and they could finally see the rest of Sendai, or at the very least something other than a cityscape.  Rin gestured towards a large green hill to the southwest, and they could all see the historical Aoba Castle ruins.  Around the side of the hill and due directly west was a blocky collection of buildings with a large wall around it.  Each was an odd mix of red brick and sandy plaster edifices, though Yusuke struggled to make out any further details at this distance.  The uniform decor of each building seemed to indicate a campus of some kind.

“Is that Yamaku?” Haru asked, pointing at the buildings.

Rin nodded and they continued.  They had to walk uphill a little slower so as to not leave a winded Futaba behind, but Makoto stopped to rest her arm from carrying the canvases.  Rin looked around, a hint of consternation on her face.

“I expected it to look…” she paused. “Smaller.  But it’s all the same size.”

“They say your high school feels smaller if you visit it as an adult,” Makoto said, rolling her shoulders. “I’m not sure it applies to high school seniors.”

“Give it some time,” Ann added.

“But I’m glad some things are still the same,” Rin said as she nodded to a restaurant on the opposite side of the road.  It had a large green roof, and the sign over the door read The Shanghai – Chinese Tea.

“Just Chinese tea?” Haru asked, a little confused. “Nothing else?”

“No, they have all sorts of deserts,” Rin said. “Ice cream and things.”

“Ice cream, you say?” Ann said, looking at the small building with renewed interest.

“Maybe later,” Makoto said. “We have a schedule to stick to.” She moved to pick the bundle of paintings back up, but Ryuji grabbed them and began to walk, despite Makoto’s protestations that she was more than capable.

A few minutes later and they had arrived at the front gates of Yamaku Academy.  The wrought iron gate was beautiful, but did clash with the surroundings.  The whole campus felt like it held an odd contradiction: it felt like a place of respectability, but the teenages milling about the courtyard were relaxed and casual.  There were a few in green-and-white school uniforms, but most opted for more casual clothes on a Sunday. On one of the nearby benches a student with a sickly pallor and shaved head plucked at an acoustic guitar, the tune careful but warm.

A few of the students passing in and out of the gate and those relaxing on the lawn acknowledged them, but none seemed to take real notice of them.  A boy with a large bandage hiding his ear and a girl with her hair in buns waved to Rin specifically, but did not stop to chat.

“This is a high school?” Ryuji said as they entered the grounds proper. “It feels more like a college or somethin’.”

“It is very prestigious-looking,” Haru added. “Austere, even.”

“Hey, did you do that, Rin?” Futaba said, pointing to a low wall to the side in front of the dorm.  There was a large mural painted on it, easily five meters long. It was a continuously morphing churn of human anatomy, in Rin’s default style.  It was evocative and striking, but Yusuke couldn’t help but feel the flow was off.  It felt like there should have been more, like the mural was meant to continue further, past where the wall abruptly became white.  In fact…

Rin wandered closer, inspecting it with her usual impassivity, as the whole group followed her.

“It’s… wild,” Ryuji says.

“Crazy,” Ann added.

“They painted over part of it,” Rin said, staring at the pure-white section. “It used to be the whole wall.”

“I’m sorry, Rin,” Haru said, apologetically.

Rin shrugged. “It was an assignment.”

“Okay Rin,” Makoto began, her body language as she turned to the rest of the group seeming to tell everyone to pay attention. “How do you want to go about this?”

Rin considered for a long moment. “I think… Let me look at the paintings, please,” she said to Ryuji, who set the bundle on the ground and pulled the twine to unpackage them.  He and Ann helped hold them apart and around while Rin inspected each in turn.  She had painted them, but Yusuke would never have guessed that from the intensity with which she stared at them.  Eventually, she came to a decision.

“I want to ask these five if they are okay being in a gallery… but I don’t know how to do that.  Can you find them and ask for me?”

They each nodded, and Rin assigned a student to each of the Thieves, along with where they might be found.  They agreed to meet up back in the courtyard later, and split off into three other groups, leaving one canvas with Yusuke and Rin.

“I think I can reasonably assume who we are going to see,” Yusuke said as he looked at the canvas and the boy painted on it. “Where to?”

Rin stared hard, concentrating on her memory.  “I think… his dorm room.”

“Then lead the way, Rin.”

Ryuji was a little miffed about being the only one that was sent on a solo assignment, but apparently the other four girls were often paired up, so he accepted his bad luck and was just grateful to be carrying only one canvas now.

As he passed other students on his way to the running track, he thought about who he saw.  A few were missing limbs, or had dark glasses on, but the vast majority of them didn’t look disabled at all.  He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Yamaku when considering physiotherapy programs, but he didn’t really consider himself disabled.  But now, in seeing the other ‘normal’ looking students chatting in the halls and giving him looks, he caught his own thoughts and wanted to kick himself.  People didn’t have big signs broadcasting their issues for a reason.  He couldn’t see if a person was deaf, or had respiratory problems or…

Or had a bad leg.

Maybe he still had a lot to learn in that area.

A tired-looking teacher in a long brown coat directed him to the track when asked, and he was eventually able to find his way there. It had been a while since he’d been on a proper oval running track since he’d broken his leg and gotten the team disbanded.  He took a deep breath, and enjoyed the wide blue sky for a moment before he turned to his task.  The field was mostly empty, which made a certain amount of sense: even as a runner Ryuji wasn’t exactly eager to spend his day off school doing more running, but it certainly made sense for someone aiming so high.  He could see who he was looking for: among the two figures coming around the bend, he spotted the artificial legs and fluttering twintails of his objective.  The girl next to her had dark skin, long brown hair and he could see that one of her hands was a bandaged stump.  Ryuji vaguely remembered her from the athletic event last summer.

The two of them slowed to a stop, panting and talking with another student who had been timing them.  They talked for a moment, before the dark-skinned girl noticed Ryuji.  He was certain he stood out on the field: his hair, his outfit and the large canvas leaned against his leg probably did the trick.  He waved as they looked at him, and the twin-tailed girl nodded to the others, saying something he couldn’t hear at the distance.  They nodded back and she jogged over to him.  She was so much smaller than Ryuji remembered, but her pale green eyes….

“Sakamoto-san,” Emi said as she approached. She was in a simple gym uniform, red bloomers and white shirt beginning to stick with sweat.  “Certainly wasn’t expecting to see you here.”  She was still a little short of breath. “What brings you all the way to Sendai?  Thinking of transferring here?”  She smiled and Ryuji felt embarrassed for no reason he could name.

“No.  Well, I dunno,” Ryuji said. “I am looking for a good place for physical therapy and to go to school, and…” he stopped himself.  Why was he so nervous? “But that’s not why I’m here today.  It’s Rin’s birthday tomorrow-”

“Ohmygosh, I totally forgot!” Emi interrupted, knocking her hand on her forehead. “I meant to send her a gift, but I guess exams got the better of me.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji offered. “They sorta wipe me out too.”

“Well, at least I know now.  Though, I probably could have guessed that whatever’s happening, it involved Rin, given the painting,” Emi said.

“Yeah,” Ryuji said, tapping it.   It was leaning against the back of his leg, away from her, so she still couldn’t see it.  “She… uh.  She wants your permission, I guess.  She’s got a big show coming up, and she wanted to know if it would be like, okay to use this.”

He turned the painting to show her.  It was certainly interesting.  At the center was a full-body image of Emi in green shorts and jersey with a number taped to the front, like what she had worn at the event over the summer.  She was in a dynamic pose, running perpendicular to the viewer.  In front of and behind her there were ghostly afterimages, almost like sketches, but with paint of her.  It was like a single moment of an animation was highlighted, along with streaks of color streaming off her body forwards and backwards, like motion blur.  Besides running she was looking slightly up as she snared a vibrant red thread in her left hand that ran just above her.

Ryuji actually really liked this particular painting.  It was the most action-packed of Rin’s paintings that didn’t involve some abstract human features mashed together.  He liked how it showed Emi, how it showed that Rin cared about Emi.  Rin said she was bad with words all the time, but in paintings her feelings were often clearer.

Emi also seemed to quite like it, as she spent her time examining it.  At first, Ryuji just let it rest against his legs, but he noticed her having a bit of trouble leaning over to look at it with her running legs on, so he picked it up and held it at a more eye-level for her.

And as she inspected the painting, he watched her.  It wasn’t like he had much else to look at; posed as he was he couldn’t crane his neck around to look at the painting with her.  There was an intensity to the way she moved and acted and even looked at things that Ryuji found interesting, but also he felt a little embarrassed.  She was so upbeat and affable and fast and small…

“I…” she began after a minute. “I love it!” 

“Me too,” Ryuji said. “The way she posed you is really cool.”

“Not just that,” Emi said. “The streaks of color, the red thread, the whole thing!”  She looked back up to him, her look of enthusiasm so infectious that Ryuji felt himself smiling. “Yes, she can use this, it’s amazing.  I assume she didn’t just send you alone?”

“No, she’s here, along with our friends,” Ryuji explained, carefully lowering the painting back down. “She’s busy right now, though.”

Emi hummed for a second, then nodded. “I can guess what with.  So, what about Sakamoto-kun?  Are you busy today?”

“I uh…” Ryuji stumbled. “We planned a little sight-seeing, I think.  Dinner and maybe lunch… but uh… before that, not much?” Why was she asking?

“Mind if I join?” she asked.

“Sure?” he said, a little flummoxed. “I’ll ask what the plan is, but I don’t mind.”

“Good, that’ll give me a chance to clean up,” Emi said, pulling at her sweaty t-shirt.  She moved to walk past him back to the dorms, but stopped.  The aborted motion was awkward with her ankle-less legs. “But first, gimme your phone.”

“Wha?” was all Ryuji could say, though he found he had already pulled his phone out. “Why?”

“Firstly,” Emi began as he unlocked his phone and handed it over. “I need to contact you later, so you need my number, and I need yours.”  That made sense.  “Secondly, you said you were looking at physiotherapy, which I know a lot about.” She bounced one of her artificial legs as if to make a point. “It’ll help if you have someone to talk to about it, trust me on that.”

“I guess it would be nice to know a little more about all of it,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“And lastly, you’re cute,” Emi said nonchalantly, tapping her number into Ryuji’s phone. 

Ryuji felt his mouth dry and mastered the urge to cough at that statement. “Uh…”

“So I’d like to keep in touch.  Maybe to compare track times, maybe to talk about something else,” she said, handing his phone back to him.  There was a smile on her lips that seemed a little more than friendly.  

Ryuji took his phone back as he nodded. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Sounds good.”

She waved as she jogged off to the dorms. “See you in a bit, Sakamoto- kun,” she called before turning a corner.

Ryuji was left to the side of the track, with a painting leaning against him and a new detail to consider about his future.

“This sucks,” Futaba muttered under her breath, doing her best to keep the canvas she was carrying from scraping on the floor.

“It’s not that bad Futaba,” Ann countered, as they walked down a hallway.

“Ryuji, Makoto and Haru got really clear directions,” Futaba said, “But apparently our quarry is either in the library, or in their rooms or in a random unmarked room.  Not exactly precise.”

“Well, we already checked the library, and that very nervous woman told us they’re probably here,” Ann said, gesturing down the corridor to class 3-2.

“She didn’t seem all that confident,” Futaba grumbled. They followed the hallway, dodging a student with a large stack of books, careful to protect the paintings that each of them was carrying.  Futaba thought it unfair that she was the shortest and had been saddled with carrying one, but she had already complained enough; no need to whine more.  The trip to Sendai was fun, despite her misgivings about being forced to meet new people.  It wasn’t like it was going to be a long-term thing, it was a daytrip, that was all.  Besides, if she couldn’t handle talking to strangers for one afternoon, then her forthcoming time in high school would be impossible.  Even without her key item, she could manage this.

They eventually made their way to the classroom they had been directed to, and found the room across the hall with the door slightly ajar.  Despite the crack in the door indicating a willingness for visitors, Ann knocked on the door.

“Hello?” she called.

Futaba heard she was reasonably sure was a startled ‘yelp’ from the other side of the door, followed by a gentle voice calling “Please enter.”  Ann slid the door open and they stepped inside, one after another.

Two girls were seated on either side of a small table, a full tea set between them.  One was looking over at Ann and Futaba, the other with her head cocked curiously, but her eyes staring off into space.  The one on the left looked… well she kind of looked like Ann.  Tall, blond with slightly wavy hair and blue eyes; clearly not entirely Japanese.  But her hair was pulled back into a formal ponytail with a black ribbon rather than Ann’s pigtails, and her eyes were not the same bright blue, but slightly dull and clouded.  She was dressed in a cream sweater and dark skirt, and a red and white cane was leaned up against the window.  Her face was familiar from the painting Ann was carrying, but it was interesting to see exactly how much she looked like Rin’s rendering.

The other girl looked a little like Futaba, in that she was hiding her face behind a paperback book, and she had long, very straight hair.  Even though she was sitting, she looked to be taller than Futaba, and her hair was dark, almost but not quite black.  Her right bang was combed to cover half her face, but Futaba could see the reason why: burn scars crept out from the sleeve of her dark jacket and up the back of her right hand.

“Hi there,” Ann said, taking the awkward situation in stride in a way that made Futaba a little envious. “I’m Ann Takamaki, this is Futaba Sakura.”

Futaba mustered a tiny wave, but realized she needed to speak for one of them. “Hello,” she mumbled.

“Pleased to meet the both of you,” the blond girl replied. “I’m Lilly Satou, this is Hanako.” She gestured across the table to her companion.

“H-Hanako I-I-Ikezawa,” the dark-haired girl confirmed with a slight stutter, lowering the book a little bit but still keeping it as a shield.  Seeing her made Futaba a little self-conscious, and she made an attempt to step out from behind Ann.

“I must confess I don’t recognize either of your names,” Lilly said, turning to face them slightly but still not looking directly at them.  “Are you prospective students?  Or perhaps transfers?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Ann said, waving a hand. “We’re actually here as a favor to a friend.  Did either of you know Rin Tezuka?”

Futaba was no expert in body language, but what she saw surprised her: Hanako seemed to relax slightly, whereas Lilly stiffened at the mention of the name.

“Oh, she was the-the artist who pa-painted the mural,” Hanako said.

“I seem to recall that she transferred sometime last school year,” Lilly said. “At least, that is what Nakai-san said when the topic came up.”

“She did,” Futaba said.  She noticed that Lilly didn’t look at her, but adjusted her head slightly when she spoke up. “But she um… she…”

“She’s taking part in a gallery showing her work in April,” Ann said, picking up where Futaba faltered.  Futaba felt her face flush with embarrassment.

Hanako had lowered the book slightly, showing more of her face now. Futaba could see the very edge of the burns the painting had told her were there peaking out from under her long bangs.  “Another show?” she asked. 

Ann nodded. “Part of her approach was to show her personal experience, so she painted some of the people she met.  A few of them were students here, and we traveled with her to help her ask for permission.”

“And I assume by your presence here that some of the paintings have one or more of us as the subjects?” Lilly asked.

Ann nodded. “Both of you, actually.”  Hanako made a sound like a strangled squeak.

“That’s a very kind gesture,” Lilly said. “Both in that we were notable enough to Tezuka-san that she remembered us, but also in you offering to help her with speaking to others.  Communicating with Tezuka-san was always… challenging.”

Futaba couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at that, one that Hanako shared. “She always was a li-little tricky to talk to,” she said.

“And while I appreciate the thought, I’m afraid I can’t quite give my opinion on how the paintings look,” Lilly said, a gentle smile back on her lips.

“Oh, right…” Ann said, staring down at the canvas she was about to flip around and show her. “Hmm…”

“We could… tell you, I guess?” Futaba offered. “Tell you what it’s like.”

Lilly considered for a moment, setting her teacup down on the saucer and folding her hands on the table. “I’d greatly appreciate it if you could describe the paintings to me, Sakura-san.”

Futaba swallowed hard.  She hadn’t exactly been volunteering.  She turned to Ann for a way out, but she only smiled and gave her a thumbs-up.  Great, she was being left twisting in the winds of socialization.  Futaba calmed herself and focused: describing art to a blind person.  No biggie.  She nodded to Ann, who turned the painting around to face Lilly and Hanako.

Hanako inspected it closely as her one visible eye widened and Futaba began.  “So the background is a sort of dull gray-blue-” She suddenly cut herself off. “Um… do you know what colors are, Satou-san?”

Lilly’s infinitely patient smile didn’t waver. “The concept has been explained to me, but as I’ve been blind since birth, I have no personal experience.”

Right: describe a painting without using colors then.

“Well, it’s… you.  You’re looking straight out of the picture, but sort of upwards, like you're looking at the sky.  A full moon is hanging above your head.  The sky is filled with faint shapes… like the outlines of people in motion… indistinct and kind of hazy.  But the main thing is the… the butterflies.  Umm… there's two swarms of butterflies coming out of your eyes.”

Despite her calm demeanor and gentle air, Lilly couldn’t stop her brow from creasing at the odd and slightly gruesome description.  Futaba sensed she needed a different tactic: If Lilly had no reference for colors, then Futaba should give her one.

“Your eyes are the same color as the butterflies wings: a slightly pale blue.  It’s… It’s the color of the sky on a bright, but cool day.  It’s the color of calm seas and arctic ice.  It's soothing and serene.  And the butterflies aren’t coming out of your eyes so much as… it’s sort of not clear where the wings end and your eyes begin.”

“I think it’s very pr-pretty,” Hanako said, seeming to back up Futaba.  She had fully lowered the book to her lap at this point.

“I also like it,” Ann added. “It has an mystic, mysterious air to it.”

Lilly’s smile returned in full, but Futaba thought she might have seen a slight twist to it. “It sounds impressive, and you’ve done a far better job of explaining visual art to me than many others,” she said.  “Please tell Tezuka-san that if she wishes to use this piece, she has my blessing.  It sounds lovely.”

Futaba felt no small amount of pride that Lilly had agreed.  She hadn’t been predisposed to reject it from what Futaba had seen, but it felt like a win, and Futaba took the victories she could find.

“You said you had two paintings?” Lilly continued.

“Oh, yeah!” Futaba said, looking down at the canvas in front of her.

“It’s actually of you, Ikezawa-san,” Ann said, as Futaba slowly spun it around.

“M-Me?!” Hanako yelped, the book shooting back up as she pulled inwards, curling up in a defensive manner that Futaba recognized all too well.  Futaba finished spinning the canvas, and Hanako began to warily inspect the painting.

After a long moment of silence where Hanako’s eyes darted back and forth, Lilly spoke up.  “Are you okay, Hanako?”

“I’m okay,” Hanako said, staring at the canvas.  There was something happening in her uncovered eye that Futaba felt both unqualified and uniquely qualified to answer.

“Would you be okay describing it to me?” Lilly continued.

“It’s me…” she began, then stopped, looking for the words.  After a moment, Ann opened her mouth to begin, but Futaba held up her hand.  This was something for her to do.

“It’s me, but facing to-to the left, so that… that the right s-s-side of my f-f-face is showing,” Hanako said. She was clearly troubled by the scars the picture portrayed, as her stuttering grew.  But at the same time, Futaba saw herself in Hanako even stronger; the part that wanted to stand up, even when she was afraid.  In an instant, the slight sense of social anxiety that seeing Hanako had triggered flipped, and now Futaba only wanted her to succeed.

“My b-burns are showing… but they… they l-look… They look almost pr-pretty…” Hanako continued, taking her time. “They are the same co-color as my hair, and there are parts… parts like the bu-butterflies in the other pai-painting where, I can’t tell what is the b-burns or my hair… And it swirls and waves and twists…”

The wrinkle in Lilly’s brow returned. “Would it be alright for me to feel this painting?” she asked.

Futaba and Ann exchanged a look, to which Ann shrugged.  Futaba brought the painting over to Lilly’s seat, and she guided Lilly’s offered hand to the twisting layers of acrylic.  She spent a few minutes guiding Lilly through it, telling her what she was touching as her fingers gently brushed the painting, tracing brushstrokes that were strands of hair that became burns, then hair again.  All the while Hanako watched, occasionally reaching up to touch her own scars.

After a while, Lilly leaned back and sighed a smile. “You let me touch your burn once, Hanako, and this feels like it has the same… meaning.  It feels like Tezuka-san really captured something about you.”

“I agree,” Hanako said. “I uh… I’ve ha-had a lot of trouble with m-m-my b-burns… but I like what Tezuka-san was able to d-do here.  Pl-Please tell her that I w-would love for her to u-use this… If she wants to.”

“Alright!” Ann said, forcefully enough that both Hanako and Futaba jumped a little. “Now we just have to find something to do until everyone else is ready.”

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Lilly said, pulling out a second second chair. “In fact, I suppose it was a bit rude of me not to offer you seats earlier.”

“Well, we were a bit busy,” Futaba said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it, Satou-san,” Ann said, setting the painting on one of the spare tables and sliding into the chair.  Futaba supposed they had no choice, as Hanako was pulling out the chair next to her for Futaba.

They chatted as Lilly made more tea.  Futaba was surprised how she carried a full conversation about studying abroad with Ann as she moved about and boiled water and steeped tea bags.  She knew that blind people could be just as deft at any task as a sighted person in a familiar environment, but (ironically) seeing was believing.

They chatted about what they were doing.  Ann and Futaba told them of their non-Phantom Thief activities, and Ann mentioned how she was thinking of studying abroad.  Lilly, who it turned out was half-Scottish, spoke of her family pulling her between Scotland and Japan.

“I’ve been to Finland, but not Scotland,” Ann remarked. “Perhaps the United Kingdom might be a place to look at…”

“Well, my sister and I can certainly introduce you to the horrible weather and… vibrant culture” Lilly said, a polite smile on her lips. She followed that with something in English that made Ann laugh.  The topic turned from Ann’s plans to Lilly’s and Hanako’s, who Futaba now learned were both seniors.  Lilly was still deliberating, but Hanako’s plans were a little more clear cut.

“I joined the stu-student newspaper,” she said. “Because I like writing, and it c-could help me meet n-new people.  So I’m going to try and get a c-career in journalism.”

“But you also want to get your fiction stories published, right Hanako?” Lilly said.

Hanako reddened. “I mean… maybe.  It’s j-just a hobby right now.”

“What kind of fiction?” Futaba asked, suddenly intrigued.

“I have one a-about a la-lady knight… and a d-dragon…” she said. “But it’s not great…”

“I enjoyed what you read to me, Hanako,” Lilly remarked.

“Yeah, artists are their own worst critics,” Ann said. “You need to show it around before you pass judgment.”

Hanako seemed to shrink back in her chair again. “I don’t really w-want to trouble anyone…”

“I’d be h-happy to beta-read!” Futaba said, stumbling a bit as she forced herself out of her comfort zone.  She saw way too much of herself in Hanako, even though she was more than two years older, and felt she needed to reach out in some way.

“Th-That… I…” Hanako seemed quite flustered by the sudden show of support. “That’s very kind of y-you, Sakura-san.  I… maybe.  I’ll take a look at what I h-have.”

They exchanged contact information, all except for Lilly, who did not have a phone.  Futaba understood why, but at some light teasing from Hanako at her not understanding technology, Futaba made a suggestion.

“There are things like virtual assistants now,” Futaba said.

“Oh, like what Rin has,” Ann said. “EMMA, was it?”

“Yeah.  Some of them are just part of the phone, or you can get a full-fledged program.” Futaba elaborated. “Rin was testing one for a company, it let her sort of… talk to her phone and it would help her type.”

“I’ve been made aware of screen-readers in the past,” Lilly said, leaning back in her chair. “But I always found them cumbersome.  You’re saying this program is like an evolution of that?”

“That’s certainly one of the ways Madicce is marketing it,” Futaba said. “The CEO, Akira Konoe, has been hyping it as the everything-program.  The beta-test is over from what I remember, but you can try it out for yourself this summer, when the full release happens!”

Lilly considered for a moment. “It would be nice to stay more in touch with my friends here in Japan while in Europe.  From how things are shaping up with my family, I’ll likely be splitting my time between them.”

They chatted more, Ann and Lilly comparing their experiences in and out of Japan, as Futaba found common ground with Hanako in their love of fantasy and fiction, with both of them recounting a old desert sci-fi novel they had read.  After almost half an hour or so, both Futaba and Ann’s phones buzzed.

“Huh,” Ann said in response to the message. “It seems Ryuji wants to bring company to lunch.”

“Leave it to him to pick up someone right away,” Futaba said.

“What about you?” Ann said, turning to their new acquaintances. “Do either of you have plans for lunch, or recommendations for local places?”

Hanako glanced at Lilly as she considered.  After talking for a while, she didn’t seem to recoil from the idea quite as much as Futaba expected.  “There’s always Sh-Shanghai,” she said.

“Rin pointed that one out to us,” Ann said. “I did want to check out their ice cream…”

“It’s a very cozy spot, though maybe it would be a better place to convene after, it’s not much of a spot for meals,” Lilly said.

“Any suggestions for other restaurants?” Futaba asked.

Lilly hummed, then lightly tapped the table. “Since you’re in town, you may want to check out one of the beef tongue restaurants.  Sendai’s famous for that dish, and there’s one not far from where Shanghai is.”

“Oh, I’m sure Ryuji will love that,” Ann said, and Futaba giggled.

“Do you want to show us?” Futaba offered, trying her best to reach out. “Like, if you want to.  No pressure.”

“We didn’t have any specific lunch plans,” Lilly said. “And, truth be told, I am a little hungry.  What about you Hanako?”

“I co-could come,” she said. “I want to get out a little after exams.”

“Great!” Futaba said, tapping out a message into the group chat.  “Our party’s swelling quite a bit.”  Hanako and Lilly both cocked their heads at that remark.  

“I’m sure Makoto will be just thrilled,” Ann said.

“Exactly how many people are you two traveling with again?” Lilly asked.

“Don’t worry, Mako-chan, we got the easy assignment,” Haru said.

“I’m not worried about finding the student council, Haru," Makoto returned as they passed down a long corridor.  The school was surprisingly full of students for a Sunday, but she supposed it was due to it having students in residency.  They both stepped aside for a young woman in arm-brace crutches. “I’m just thinking about college.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Haru assured her. “You’ve been accepted, and you know what you want to do.”

“I do, but it doesn’t exactly square with my goals,” Makoto replied. “I’ve got my classes lined up, but I have to wonder how easy it will be to do what needs to be done once I’m part of law enforcement…”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out, Mako-chan,” Haru assured her. “You’re our strategist, after all.  You just need to take it one step at a time.”

Makoto’s worries remained unsoothed, but she stowed them as they arrived at the small club room where they had been told the student council met.  There was a very faint noise of a scraped chair from inside, but no talking. Haru gently knocked on the door with a knuckle and called “Hello?  Is anyone there?”

A slightly loud voice called “Come in!” from inside, so Haru slid the door to let them both in.  Two girls were sitting at a corner of the table inside, paperwork on the table between them.  On the left was a smiling girl who had loose brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, with the bottom edge dyed a faded pink, as if she had let a short, pink haircut and dye job simply grow out.  She had a round face, with a bright smile and amber eyes.  She wore a simple t-shirt and pants, and looked to have been facing the other girl in the room before they entered.  The other girl was thinner, with a sharp face and eyes behind wire-frame glasses.  Her hair was the same shade as Yusuke’s, and cut a little shorter than his.  She wore a white tank top with a jacket on top, and a knee-length skirt.  She looked back and forth from Haru to Makoto, her expression not nearly as friendly as the other girl’s.

“Hello, we’re looking for…” Makoto said, pausing to remember their names. “Shizune Hakamichi and Shiina Mikado.”

“That would be us~!” the girl with the pink edge in hair said, her voice loud.  The other girl glanced at her as she began gesturing with her hands in what Makoto recognized as Japanese Sign Language.  Makoto had studied it briefly, but didn’t recognize any of the gestures beyond ‘looking.’ “I’m Shiina, but call me Misha~!  Wahaha!” she said, laughing loudly.  Makoto picked up another fragment of sign language that let her know Misha was signing what she was saying; no simple feat. “This here is Shicchan… I mean Shizune.  What are your names?”

“I’m Haru Okumura,” Haru offered. “And this is Makoto Niijima.  We’re visiting Yamaku as a favor to a friend.”  As Haru spoke, Misha kept her running translation of not just what she said, but what others were saying.  Makoto recognized the quick motions of spelling a word, something one would do to tell someone a new name.  Shizune turned her attention to Misha’s signing, nodding partway through.

“Pleased to meet both of you~!” Misha said.  Shizune signed the same phrase, then added something. “And Shicchan says hello, and she wants to know what brings you here.”

“We’re here on a favor for a friend of ours,” Makoto said, trying to address the both of them.  Misha began to sign, but Shizune reached over and stopped her, placing a hand on Misha’s and lowering it.  Makoto thought she detected a hint of blush on Misha’s cheeks before it passed just as quickly.  Shizune signed something complex to Misha, who slowly nodded, looking a little down.  They conversed for a moment, with Misha pleading something, but Shizune refusing.

“Shicchan is… trying to learn to read lips,” Misha said, picking up a pen and spinning it to occupy her suddenly still hands. “She wants to practice, if it’s alright with you.  So… please just talk like normal.”

“I… see,” Haru said.  Makoto noticed Misha’s hands twitch, seeming to suppress an impulse to sign.

“Oh… Okay,” Makoto said.  Even though she had been told to speak normally, she found herself carefully annunciating, almost exaggerating her lip movements. “We’re friends of Rin Tezuka, who was a student here.  She’s preparing for a big gallery show soon.”

Shizune signed a reply to Misha, who translated: “Shicchan says: ‘I remember Tezuka-san, we had to really lean on her to get that mural done.  Glad to know she’s doing well in Tokyo.’ That’s nice, Shicchan~!” Misha didn’t change her voice when she was directly translating Shizune’s words, which necessitated a moment for Makoto to parse what exactly was being said by who. “Her mural was pretty nice though, right?”

“We came to Yamaku to help her with her gallery showing,” Haru said.  Shizune, unable to hear Haru, only began looking at her a moment after she was speaking, as Misha directed her attention the right way.  “Several of her paintings for the opening are of her Yamaku classmates, and she wished to seek their approval for showing them publicly.”

“That’s such a nice gesture, Wahaha~!” Misha said, laughing far too loudly, as Shizune signed a much simpler affirmative reply. “Wait, I guess that means she painted one of us?  Probably Shicchan, she's prettier, right?”

Haru and Makoto shared a brief, awkward look, before Haru shrugged.  Makoto sighed, then picked up the canvas from behind her, and showed it to the two girls, raising it and placing it on the edge of the table, so they could see the whole thing.

It was a little more abstract than the other pieces they had brought to Yamaku.  The straight edges and sharp corners gave it an almost cubist feel.  It showed Misha and Shizune together, one in front of the other, both staring out of the picture at the viewer.  Misha was in front, but had all-pink hair, with large ringlet curls on either side of her face.  The two girls were posed… awkwardly, but almost intimately.  Shizune was behind Misha, and above her, as if Shizune was standing on a box.  Both were dressed in white blouses with black bows, the uniform of this school, if Makoto had to guess.  Shizune was reaching down to place a hand on Misha’s shoulder left, which Misha had her own left hand on, while Misha was reaching up and back to cover Shizune’s right ear.  Shizune’s own right hand was resting on the arm Misha was reaching up with.  Behind Shizune, a line of red in the chromatic background passed right behind her head.  It was perfectly horizontal and passed behind her uncovered ear, only for the same line to reappear behind where Misha’s right ear would be, shooting right out of the frame. The symmetry of it reminded Makoto of the designs of the king, queen and jack in a set of playing cards.  Both of them had slight, melancholy smiles on their faces, which to Makoto’s mind seemed off for both of them, a contrast to both Misha’s unrelenting exuberance and Shizune’s severity.

The two of them studied it for a long time, Shizune’s eyes widening and Misha raising a hand to cover her open mouth.  A tiny gasp escaped Misha, what sounded like an aborted sob or something similar as Makoto noticed her eyes water.  Shizune looked over at Misha, and her expression shifted to one of concern.  She signed something to Misha, who silently responded back.  The wordless conversation extended, with Makoto only able to catch a few words and phrases. Shizune asked Misha something, Misha responded with a negative, but then Makoto caught the word ‘perfect’ and Shizune smiled.  They seemed to be signing about each other, perhaps how the painting portrayed them.  After a minute or so Misha sighed, sniffed and then turned to Makoto and Haru.

“We both love it,” Misha said, her voice slightly lower.  “It’s nice to see yourself differently.  I guess Tezuka-san never saw my new hairstyle.”  She gestured to the remnants of her pink hair.

“I think both your old and new style look very nice, Mikado-san,” Haru said, waving first and speaking a little slowly for Shizune. “But those curls do look like they were a pain.”

“Right?” Misha said, and Shizune smiled. “And you can just call me Misha, same for Shicchan.  Or maybe just Shizune.”

Makoto took the painting from the table, and laid it against the cabinet as Haru naturally settled into a seat. “Of course, Misha.  So what are you two doing here on a Sunday?” she asked. “Is it student council business?”

“It is,” Misha said.  It made sense, the plate on the door indicated that’s what the room was for. “We… well.  We were looking over what we needed to do before we leave.  It’s a lot!”

Shizune signed something, and Misha translated. “Shicchan says that as president, she needs to make sure whoever takes over is better prepared than when she took over.”

“Oh, I’m sure that Mako-chan could help with that!” Haru said, gesturing to Makoto. “She’s the student council president, and she’s also preparing for college.”

“Wow, double presidents~!” Misha said as Shizune reached over and offered her hand to Makoto with a small smile. Makoto took it and gave a solid shake.  “I’m sure you would have all sorts of insights we could use, Makochan~!”

Makoto tried to shoot Haru an exasperated look, but she just smiled a very knowing smile.  Makoto and Shizune talked through Misha for a while, of what one was to do when leaving the student council behind, and what they were planning to do afterwards.

“I must say, I am looking forward to college,” Makoto said. “I know moving out will ease the burden on Sis, if only a little.”

Shizune squinted a bit, then tapped her chin before signing a message to Misha.  “Shicchan wants to know if your sister is Sae Niijima?” Misha said, her expression a little confused.

“Uh, yes,” Makoto said, slightly taken aback.  Niijima wasn’t that uncommon a family name…

“How do you know Mako-chan’s sister, Hakamichi-san?” Haru asked.

Shizune signed her answer to Misha, who’s confusion cleared as she took in the explanation. “Oh, Shicchan’s been following the Phantom Thieves case for a while~!  Niijima-san’s name was in the news as a lead in the investigation, but then it vanished.  She also wants to know if she’s really going to become a defense attorney~”

“Well, that's…” Makoto meandered, unsure of what to say to such a pointed inquiry.

“I think Niijima-san will announce such a thing when she’s ready.  Sae-san doesn’t mix her personal and professional lives,” Haru said evenly, coming to Makoto’s rescue.

“Shicchan says she’s sorry to pry,” Misha said as Shizune signed and made a small bowing motion. “She’s just looking at a career in law, and everything about the Phantom Thieves is going to set… um…” She briefly signed back and forth with Shizune for clarification. “Set legal precedents for years, or so she says.  I guess she’s right, they were a really big deal from what I heard~!  Shicchan was just looking for someone with some first-hand experience.”

“I can certainly ask for you,” Makoto said. “I’m also looking into a law degree, though not in the same way as her, so I don’t know that she’ll have the time to answer the questions of two college students.” Makoto gave a little nervous laugh, which Misha backed up earnestly.  

Shizune simply gave her silent smile before continuing. “Shicchan says that would be nice.  It’s either law or falling back on philanthropy,” Misha said for her.

“Well, if you have questions about the latter, you can ask Haru,” Makoto said, gesturing to her teammate.

“Oh, do you have a history in that, Haru~?” Misha asked as Shizune quirked an eyebrow and studied Haru with renewed interest.

“My family had a philanthropic branch once that has fallen by the wayside,” Haru said. “I’m looking at ways of reviving it.”

Shizune signed something quick to Misha, who asked: “Are you related to Kunikazu Okumura of Okumura Foods, Haru?”

“I… was, yes,” Haru said.

Shizune read her lips and continued signing quickly, but then seemed to catch herself and slowed down, the mood of her movements a bit more somber. “Oh, that makes a lot of sense, that’s probably how you two met, the…” Misha began, her peppy tone faltering as Shizune reconsidered her words. “The investigation.”

“Something like that,” Haru said, her tone flat.

“Shicchan’s really sorry for bringing it up like that,” Misha said as Shizune signed. “And I am too, for that matter.”

“It’s water under the bridge,” Haru said, waving her hand to dismiss the building social awkwardness between them. “Besides, we’ve talked so much about what we plan to do, I’d love to hear what your plans are, Misha.”

“Me? I, uh…” Misha said as she suddenly… dimmed in a way.  She was so bright and exuberant, but she suddenly seemed almost reserved. “I have a lot of skills in sign language, right? I’m Shicchan’s interpreter, and I think I could maybe do good as a secretary or something, but I need to find something…”

Shizune had noticed the way Misha’s hands suddenly clamped around her pen, and she saw her body language, even if she couldn’t hear the shift in her tone.  She reached over and grasped Misha’s forearm tightly, then began to sign to her.  They had a very fast, silent conversation, which Makoto followed very little of, but she could see the phrase ‘be honest’ from Shizune twice, once even gesturing at the painting.  As they signed, Makoto could see Misha recover just a little bit, as Shizune’s posture loosened when Misha replied to a question with an affirmative.

“I’m not sure what I want to do, but I know I can rely on the people around me,” Misha said, after taking a moment to compose herself. “And I’m free to do whatever I want.”  She looked back at Shizune, her smile growing warmer.  “We had a lot of problems with… expectations.  But I think we have a bright future, whatever happens.”  She placed her hand over the hand Shizune had on her arm.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finding a way forward, Misha,” Haru said.

“Besides, If I end up helping Shicchan, it’s not like that’s a bad thing, right?” Misha said, and from there they shared their plans freely, Makotos’s hopes of political and legal reform, Shizune’s concerns over nondiscrimination laws, Haru’s dreams of a café and her family legacy, and Misha’s many ideas for careers.

Half an hour later they were still chatting and signing about what they hoped to do in the future, and sharing things they had learned when Haru retrieved her phone to check on the others.

“It seems that our location for lunch has been decided,” Haru said, reading from the group chat. “The students Ann and Futaba met suggested a beef tongue restaurant nearby, Ryuji naturally instantly agreed.”

“Sendai is famous for beef tongue, if I recall correctly,” Makoto said.

“Oh, which place?” Misha asked.  Haru told them the name they’d been given, and Misha and Shizune both nodded. “That one’s pretty good!  They do this Gyutan that is just perfect~!”

Shizune signed something, and Misha nodded back, almost giddy. “I know, right, Shicchan~?  Shicchan wants to take you all there, as thanks for your time today.  We both also wanna thank Tezuka-san for making that painting~!”

“Oh,” Makoto said, a little stunned. “Well, we could certainly use a guide to Sendai.”

“Seeing as everyone else has invited someone, I’d love to invite you two,” Haru said, her delicate smile belying true affection in her voice.

“Great~!” Misha shouted, Shizune nodding along.

Makoto did some quick math in her head. “Our party’s getting pretty big.”

“Don’t worry, Mako-chan,” Haru said. “I’m sure it will all work out.”

“Yeah, Makochan~” Misha echoed as Shizune smiled and Makoto accepted her fate.

The dorms were more lively than Yusuke had expected.  Perhaps it was the eminent end of term, but there were several social get-togethers he and Rin had to pass on their way to their destination.

One detail about their trip nagged at the back of Yusuke’s mind.  As he and Rin waited off to the side of one corridor as a moving crew manhandled several pieces of furniture, he decided to broach the subject.

“You seemed very particular about who should get which painting,” Yusuke said, making sure to keep the last painting well out of the way as the movers slid a specialized bedframe down the hall. “Any particular reasoning for that?”

Rin looked up at him, an almost mischievous smile on her face. “I just thought that, with everyone going their separate ways, they deserved a friend.”

“And you think that each of them will find a friend here?” Yusuke asked.  Rin only returned a small hum of contemplation.  Yusuke chuckled, and they waited for the movers to be done.

As they approached the door they were looking for, the door opposite cracked open.  “Are they gone?” a nasally voice from within asked.

“The workers are gone, yes,” Yusuke answered without much thought.  At that, the door opened more.  A young man stood in the doorway, dressed in a too-warm jacket, patterned scarf and thick, coke-bottle glasses.  He was extremely pale, and his dark hair was a mess.  He held in his arms a cardboard box filled with what seemed to be random junk.

“Good,” he said, heaving the box and shouldering the door all the way open. “Can’t be too careful these days.”  He stared at each of them in turn as Yusuke attempted to discern what was in the box.  Notes, shredded paper, what might be an empty bottle of hard liquor, and what seemed to be part of a poster containing the image of Masayoshi Shido; a piece of campaign merchandise, Yusuke guessed.

“Oh, is that you, Tezuka?” he said, squinting at Rin. “Nakai told me you transferred.” 

“I’m visiting,” Rin responded simply.

“Cool, cool,” he responded. “I gotta get this stuff outta here before they inspect my room.  See you later Tezuka.  Stay vigilant!”  He rushed past them out of the corridor, almost bowling over another student.

“A friend of yours?” Yusuke asked.

Rin stared at the corner he had disappeared around for a long moment before responding with a simple “No.”

They turned back to the other door.  This was it, what Yusuke was reasonably sure was their true reason for coming to Sendai.  He looked over at Rin, her normally unreadable expression threatening to show a hint of apprehension.

Yusuke had to ask: “Are you sure you are ready?”

Rin shook her head, fluttering her hair. “No, but that’s the point, I think.  Please knock, Yusuke.”

Yusuke nodded as he raised his hand.  Somethings just had to be done.  He knocked at the door three times.

Hisao Nakai sighs, reviewing his mail.  He is sitting at the desk in his room, trying to focus.  The noise from outside is distracting, but the workers are moving that specialty bed frame as fast as they can.  Not that he has intense work to even focus on.  Exams are done, and his future is laid out before him.  The letter he just received is just that: his future in higher education, and in chemistry.  Not bad for a ‘cripple.’

He leans back in his chair, mind drifting back to two years ago, when he arrived at Yamaku, looking down at the school and himself for having to attend what he saw as an insult of an academy.  He was full of so much anger, so much ire, so much resentment.  So much ableism, really.  Being at Yamaku has wrung most of it out of him… between being bullied into exercising with Emi or helping Shizune, and a very pointed dressing-down from Mutou.  He’s grown to know more, to accept the limits around him and to see past those that were never there.

But there was one person who helped him with that more than any other.

"We've known each other for two weeks and I haven't seen you smile even once."

But she left.  He tried to say how he felt, how she made him feel… but it wasn’t enough.  He tried again to see if there was still something there…  But she’d been just as lost at Kosei as she was in the atelier.  Her new friend Yusuke said he’d try and help her, but there was only so much to be done.

And now he faces a terrible but predictable conundrum.  If he accepts this letter, and goes to school in Tokyo… he might run into her.  Tokyo is a big city, but he can find her.  He might be able to see her, to really be around her again.  But does she even want that?

How long are you going to chase things that are out of reach, Hisao? he admonishes himself. You can’t just continue to act like she’ll come around if you talk to her.  You tried that multiple times, and it didn’t work.  She doesn’t want you.  Stop trying.

“All people… are alone. We just use each other to alleviate that loneliness,” he had said.

“Why do you say that when you made me feel otherwise? It's unfair,” she had said.

They had said their goodbyes in the street over a year ago, and he had been unwise enough to try and write a postscript to their relationship, after that very clear ending.  He shakes his head, trying to banish the memories.  He needs to consider if he’ll attend the school in Tokyo, and to not think of her when he decides.

A knock comes at the door, and he barely hears the voice.  He assumes it must be Kenji, trying to talk him into one more stupid outing before they graduate.  Casually, Hisao calls “Come in.”  The door opens and he spins in his chair to see who it is.

It’s Kitagawa.  The tall, thin boy from Kosei.  His smile is warm and he gives a nod of the head.  What is he doing here?  

“Hello, Nakai-san,” he says casually.  Before Hisao can respond, someone else walks in as Kitagawa holds the door open.  A very familiar someone.

“Hello Hisao,” says Rin Tezuka.

Hisao’s thoughts crash in a pileup on his mental highway. How? Why?

“Rin…” is what comes out of his lips. “What are you doing back here?”

“I… came to see you,” she says. “And other people.  And talk to them, not just see them.  My friends are helping.  With talking… and with seeing too, I guess.” 

Friends. Rin has friends. It seems absurd, but Kitagawa is standing right there, holding something large and flat behind him.

“Do you… want to talk to me?” Hisao asks. She gives a little nod before turning back to Kitagawa.  She says something to him, and his eyes widen just a little before he nods back, and sets a canvas that Hisao didn’t quite notice against the wall of his room.  He steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Hisao gestures to the bed, and Rin plops herself down on it, like nothing ever changed.  Like they were still… more than friends.  Like the last year of separation meant nothing.  But then Hisao looks in her eyes, and there is something there.  Her cloudy, veiled gaze is still there, but Hisao can almost see something in the way she looks at him.  There’s a spark, a drive there now.

Once, she had told him that there were clouds in her head.  They’re still there, but perhaps he can see the sun peaking through them.

“I was worried about you,” he says, settling into his desk chair.

“I was worried about me too,” she responds. “I wanted to say so many things, but so many of them were wrong, or maybe…” She trails off, then starts again. “I’m sorry that I left like I did.”

“You told me that you would find a way to be a real artist, even if it meant not being you,” Hisao says, suddenly acutely aware of how he can still recall her exact words.  He tried to convince himself that he’d moved on, but he hadn’t even fooled himself. “Did you… find that?  Did you change?”

She takes a very long breath before responding. “I’m still me, but I’m also different.  When you told me I should be happy… It wasn’t wrong, but it also wasn’t right either.”

“I wish I could understand what you need,” Hisao says. “I wish I could say the right thing to help you.  I’m sorry that I couldn’t find the words to help bridge that gap.”

Rin shakes her head. “I don’t think that it needs a bridge.  It’s not the words, but the act.  You wanted to help, but maybe help is the wrong word.”  She pauses for a long moment, almost visually gathering her thoughts.  Hisao looks at her, and imagines her launching into one of her long-winded outpouring of rambling speech, but she doesn’t.

Instead, when she speaks, it’s careful.  She’s considered in her words, but it's still a journey to grasp it. “I looked for a very long time, for the one thing.  The one thing that would fix me.  Fix the world.  Be the lens that would make everything not foggy and cloudy.  And someone showed it to me.  I saw a world where all the gaps were filled.  Where you and I were happy and understanding and everything made sense.  It was… nice.  It was like a dream.  But it was also wrong and stupid and boring.   But before that, I met people.  Friends.  People who don’t understand me, not all the way.  They get some, and miss some.  But that’s it: life isn’t about filling gaps.  The parts of our lives that are missing don’t make us who we are or hold us back, they just… are.”

Pieces slide into place in Hisao’s head on where she is going with this.  He’s intrigued by her mention of someone showing her a world, but he lets her continue. “You didn’t understand what I was saying, but you always tried.  That means so much.  I… It showed me things.  Things about life, about what understanding is, and how… not important it can be.”

She looked over at the canvas set against the wall.  “I have another gallery showing soon.  And… I painted you.  I want to know if it’s okay to use it.”

Hisao is momentarily thrown by the sharp turn from the high-minded and abstract to the material, but like riding a bicycle, he remembers what it’s like to talk to Rin.  He stands, retrieves the painting from the wall and turns it around to inspect it.

It’s him alright.  Elbows casually on his knees, dressed in the Yakamu uniform, with a bleeding scar superimposed over his clothes and bleeding long ribbons of blood that pour against gravity, up and away in six solid red sheets. Behind them, twisting lines like scars dance.

“You used the old sketch from that club meeting,” Hisao says, recalling the first time they were assigned together in the art club.

“I remembered it,” Rin seems to correct him.  So not the same, but something like a recreation.  But in that, Hisao notices a difference.  His expression is not as melancholy as that first image.  He’s smiling.  It’s small, almost a smirk, but he’s looking directly at the viewer, not away.

There is a long silence as Hisao stares at the painting.  The scar on his chest, ever a source of anxiety, might be in a gallery of art.  It doesn’t terrify him the way it should.  In a way, it feels like what should be.  He sets the painting back against the wall, and returns to his seat.  He turns back to see Rin looking at him, a familiar sight.  He hasn’t seen her since his trip to Tokyo last year, but for some reason he feels like he saw her in January.  Like she had been around after Christmas.  It’s a sense he can’t explain, but he feels in his gut.

“I would love it if you made this part of your show,” Hisao eventually says.  Rin blinks, then nods.  The tiny smile, the one that makes her face shine creeps across her face, but then it fades just as fast; a flickering light.  They sit in silence for a bit longer before Hisao makes his decision: he’s just going to ask.

“Was this all you came back to Yamaku for?” he says, trying to tailor his tone to be as even as possible, though he’s not sure if that tone is for her or him. “You could have just texted.”

“I wanted to ask,” she says simply, like that’s a real answer.  Hisao snorts, unable to restrain himself, but Rin continues: “I wanted to ask you and Lilly and Shizune and Emi and Misha and Hanako.  But I can’t ask them all, because I’m not asking them the same thing I’m asking you.”

She pauses for another moment. “I was lost.  For a long time, I didn’t know what to do with my life.  I didn’t know what I needed, because I didn’t…” She sighs, searching for the words. “I didn’t know what I wanted.  I thought that I was doing what was right because it was what people around me said I should do.  But now… Now I know what I want to do… I want to do more.”

“What do you mean?” Hisao asks.

“I want to do more,” she repeats. “I don’t know if painting is what I want to do.  I like it, but maybe I like something else.  Maybe I’m the fourth-okayest musician in the world, if I try.  If I’m the worst stargazer in the world but it makes me happy, I want to do it.”

“There are many things I want to do, my friends showed me that,” she says.  Hisao is struck that she’s talking more here than she ever did, and he can follow it, though it’s coming at him fast and hard. “I want to read and learn and laugh with Yusuke and Sumire and Futaba.  Even if Ann and Ryuji and Akira and Mona and Makoto and Haru are moving away, I want to talk to them.  They all… They’re great.  I want to see more of the world, do more in it.  I want…”

“I want to talk to my parents,” she says.  Hisao feels a shift in the tone.  Her talking slows, and she looks downward.  Her relationship with her parents was a cool one, as Hisao recalls.  Not bad per se, but… distant.  Disconnected.  “I want to talk to them about what I want, even if it’s bad.  I want them to know.  And I want to see someone about me.  A doctor, a real one not…”  She trails off then picks right back up.  “I want to know if what happens in my head has a name.  And… and I want to do all that with you.”

The sentence passes over Hisao, and his feelings take a moment to sort out.  Minutes ago, he was convincing himself that trying to talk some sense into Rin was a lost cause, and now she’s here saying… what?

“With me?” is what he asks before he has a chance to stop himself.

Rin nods. “You made… We… I left you,” is what she settles on. “I was wrong… or maybe it was the only way it could have gone.  I… hurt you.”  She says it like she is considering it for the first time.

“I don’t know if you hurt me,” Hisao says. “I was hurt.  I am hurt.  But you…” He shakes his head. “Maybe it was you.  I don’t know.”

“But it hurt?” she asks.

Hisao sighs deeply.  In and out, like admitting it is going to be a physical exercise. “It hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Rin says.

“But maybe it was what needed to happen.  Maybe we… just weren’t ready,” Hisao says.

“Like unripe fruit,” she says, and he has to chuckle at that one. “I thought… for a long time you were scary,” Rin continues, to which Hisao has to raise an eyebrow.  “When I was with you, you made me feel… my legs were weak.  My heart wanted to explode… and I thought you were contagious.”  Her casual mis-mention of his condition feels so like her. “I was afraid I had to be someone else.  With or without you.  And then I changed… and the world changed.  I’m still a little scared, because I don’t know what will happen to me, or what you will say.  But the thing that scares me more than changing or being with you… is changing without you.”

Hisao slides his rolling chair closer to the bed.  He wants to hold her hand, but that will never happen.  He settles for placing his hand on her knee.  She doesn’t flinch or even seem to react much, but she does look directly into his eyes.  That spark, that ray of sunshine behind the clouds… he’s certain it’s real now.

“I was so worried for you,” he says. “Because I thought you might… do something reckless.  I don’t know if I was right to worry.  But after I saw you last year… I had lost hope.  I was preparing to try and see you one last time… but part of me kept saying that I was a fool to do that.”

“Which part of you?” she asks.

“The part that tells me that love is a mistake,” he says. “The cynical, bitter part.  Do you know what I mean when you have parts of your head that talk to you?”

Rin’s smile is deeper than ever. “More than you know.”

“But…” he pauses. “It’s wrong.  Because I want to be with you.  I want to help you… with all of that.  I want to see what you paint next, or try next.  I want… you.  No matter how you change, you’ll always be Rin.” He reaches up and grabs her empty, tied off sleeve, almost on instinct.  It’s a strange gesture. But the smile on Rin’s face makes sense.  It all makes sense… because this is what he wanted more than anything.  Another chance.

Rin stares for a moment, seeming to listen to something distant.  Then she seems to slide from her seat on the bed directly into his arms without standing.  He embraces her, squeezing for the year they were apart.

“I love you,” they say, almost together. 

Eventually, they break the embrace.  Hisao cleans his face of tears he didn’t know he was shedding, as Rin observes, her usual distance rendered comforting by their confession. “What about your school, though?” she asks, and Hisao knows she has changed.  That she even asked is proof enough.

Hisao glances back at the letter of acceptance on his desk.  If she’s living in Tokyo… and he goes to college in Tokyo, then maybe… just maybe… “We’ll figure it out,” he says. “For now, let’s just enjoy the end of high school.”

She nods. “I also want you to meet my friends.  They came here to help with my gallery.”

“I’ve met Kitagawa-san,” Hisao says.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks he should probably thank him, but exactly what for Hisao isn’t sure.

“I have a lot more friends now,” she says with a smile. “I think we should go see them.  We’re all… most of us are in Sendai for the day, after all.”

Hisao smiles, feeling in his heart that perhaps this is the perfect time for something new.  New places, new people.  They walk out of his room together, and find Kitagawa patiently waiting for them.

“All’s well?” he asks, and Rin looks to Hisao, smiling as she does.

“It will be,” she says. “I feel it will be.”

“Thank you,” Hisao says. “For everything, Kitagawa-san.”

He gives a slight bow, as a lock of hair falls in front of his face.  “It was the very least I could do for Rin and you both, Nakai-san.”  He gestured to his cracked smartphone in his hand.  “While you were talking, the rest formed plans for the day.”

Rin smirks, a tiny knowing look.  “What kind of plans?”

“Lunch plans,” Kitagawa says, a sudden earnest reality seeping into his words. “Sendai beef tongue.” Hisao can faintly register what might be a growling stomach at the edge of his hearing.

He can’t help but laugh.  They all converse and agree, and head off to meet with Rin’s new friends.  And perhaps quite a few old faces, if the other invitees that Kitagawa mentions are any indication.

As they exit the dorms, Hisao glances down at Rin, and she stares back at him with a look he’s missed for over a year.  He feels like something inside him has been mended.  But as Rin said, not like a gap being filled, but a new addition he never knew he needed.  Whatever the future holds, they can face it together. He finally feels like he is moving forward. 

They both are.  

They all are.

Chapter Text

To: Shuzo Ubukata
From: Akira Konoe
Subject: RE: Cognitive Psience Research

We now have confirmation on that data from the EMMA beta test: it’s real evidence of the cognitive world.  What we were able to scrape together of Isshiki’s research and the unpublished paper from Dr. Maruki aligns with the data we received.

The data was anonymized as per company policy and government regulations, but it seems to indicate that at least one beta user was involved with a psientific event that began on Christmas, and concluded over a month later, at the beginning of February.

The initial reports indicated a state of altered cognition being reflected back into the human mind.  This would seem to align with Isshiki’s initial theories about a parallel reality where thought is given form, but the readings from the beta go further: they support Maruki’s proposal that the link is two-way, that the cognitive world can affect the real world, or at least the minds of real people other than the initial subject.

I understood your skepticism in the matter and I value your insight, which is why I sent the data for a thorough review.  Those reports have come back, and the analysis confirmed my initial theory.  I even got Ichinose to take a look, and she built EMMA.  She couldn’t adequately explain it as a software glitch or any kind of misinterpretation of the data.

We now have the wavelength to replicate the cognitive world, and we have the funding from Owada, as well as all that documentation that Shido was apparently sitting on; we’re ready to move forward with a real experiment.  You’re our in-house expert on AI, so I’m placing you in charge of Project Oubliette, to begin development immediately at our Okinawa branch.  

As head of Project Oubliette, you’ll be overseeing our first fusion of AI tech and cognitive psience.  Your main objective is to see if we can use EMMA to tap into the cognitive world and affect human behavior.  If so, how?  Ascertain to what extent EMMA’s neural net can be taught to utilize cognitive psience.  We need numbers and we need metrics: availability, replicability, scalability, all that.  We’re set to launch EMMA as a mass market virtual assistant this summer, so time is of the essence if we want to proceed with Operation Oraculi.

Good luck down south, and I look forward to your report.

Akira Konoe
President and CEO of Madicce

Rin’s phone buzzes and she sets her brush down.  She’s not expecting a message, but she does her best to keep up with what is happening, a step her therapist says is a simple but effective one.  She slides around in her seat, turning away from the small ‘studio’ area of the apartment.  Her off-term college assignments and commissions are already done, and the summer looks clear and free.

The message is from a group that’s not been too active these past few months: the Phantom Thieves group chat.  There’s not much of a Metaverse to talk of these days.  She boots her virtual assistant so she can respond.  As the spherical logo spins, she reflects on seeing the ad for EMMA on the subway.  It has been weird to see so many advertisements for something she has used for months now; like the whole world has been let in on a secret.

She bends over and inspects the group chat.

Skull: Hey! It’s been a while!

Panther: It only feels like that because you always forget to reply to this group!

Skull: I don’t wanna hear it from Miss Wrong-Timezone!

Noir: I suppose it’s been a little while for me as well, hasn’t it?

Fox: My cellular coverage has been slightly spotty, as I’ve been unable to pay my phone bill occasionally.

Violet: I suppose we’re just lucky that Kitagawa-senpai was able to keep himself fed.

Oracle: what’s the verdict on that rin?

Witch: Hisao and I were able to drop him a few meals without him noticing.

Fox: So it was you who left those bento boxes out for me!  You said you had no idea where it came from!

Joker: So, everyone else is doing okay?

Queen: I’m doing well.  I trust you’ve all been busy studying for exams lately?

Oracle: im fine on that front

Oracle: ryuji on the other hand…

Skull: Shaddup!  I’ve been busy with physio.

Panther: Just that?  Not because of the new girlfriend?

Skull: Emi’s doing fine, thanks for asking.

Violet: Have you beaten her track time yet, Sakamoto-senpai?

Skull: Of course not! She’s like 30 kilos lighter than me!

Skull: Besides, how are things in the UK, Ann?

Panther: Rainy.  Lilly wasn’t wrong about the weather.  I’m looking forward to being back in Japan this summer.

Skull: Right!  That’s what I wanted to ask: Since summer vacation is coming up, do we want to get together again?  Maybe go on a trip?

Queen: I think I can manage that.

Noir: I could certainly use a break.

Noir: Between my classes for both business and food services and helping Shizune with the charity she wants to open, I think both of us need a breather.

Queen: Absolutely.  Misha’s incredibly driven, and she could also use some time off.

Violet: My competition schedule is pretty heavy, but I could clear some space to meet up.

Oracle: i’d be psyched to see everyone again

Oracle: would i be okay to invite hanako to this?

Oracle: or is this a phantom-thieves-only affair?

Oracle: i think she could do with seeing some familiar faces with the way her first year of college is going…

Panther: I have no objections.  In fact, I should contact Lilly, see if she’d like to book a flight together.

Panther: Those two would probably like to see each other again.

Fox: The use of the word ‘see’ there…

Panther: You know what I meant!

Skull: I think Emi would come along no matter what, so good to know y’all are okay with that.

Noir: I’ll check in with Misha and Shizune.

Queen: This is turning into the beef tongue restaurant meetup all over again…

Panther: It’s fine!  Leblanc is more than big enough!

Joker: I still can’t believe each of you made a lasting friend on that Sendai trip without me.

Violet: I still can’t believe you all went to Sendai and got beef tongue without me!

Joker: No worries there, Sumire.  We’re definitely not missing this one.

Joker: In all seriousness, I’m actually kind of eager to meet all these others I never had the chance to speak to.

Joker: As is Morgana, as he is loudly reminding me.

Oracle: you good to meet up in a few weeks rin?

Oracle: around the end of july?

Witch: I should be fine.  My last class was some time ago, and I’m all caught up on my non-school work.

Fox: And would you like to invite Hisao?

Witch: I’ll ask what his schedule is like when he gets home.

Joker: Sounds good.

Noir: I’m looking forward to seeing you all again!

Skull: So where should we take a trip?

Fox: I was thinking perhaps Kyoto.

Oracle: boring!

Panther: How about Sapporo?

Violet: Too cold!

Panther: Even in the summer?!

Queen: It seems we have a lot left to hash out.

Skull: We can meet up and plan it out once we know more.

Violet: Meet up where?

Oracle: Where else?

Joker: I’ll see you all at the hideout.

Plans made, Rin stands and gets lunch from the fridge; a pork cutlet that she and Hisao prepared last night.  Cooking is hard for her, she knew it would be, but the sense of discovery it brings is a familiar one.  She still stops by Leblanc occasionally for an iced latte, to keep Boss company, and she takes Yusuke there to force him to eat something.  Maybe she should try making curry with Hisao soon…

Hours later, Hisao finally gets home from his late classes. “Sorry Rin,” he apologizes. “Professor wanted to ask about some health things.  I had to explain a bunch.”

Rin smiles, looking up from her tablet. “Medication doing its job?”

“Still holding up,” he responds, taking off his coat and hanging it.

“I got a text from my friends,” Rin says as she closes an email from the art foundation Yusuke introduced her to; it can wait.  “They want to meet up for the summer.  Go somewhere.  Do you?”

“Do I what?” he askes.

“Want to go,” Rin adds. “End of July.”

He hums as he gets a bottle of water. “My schedule should be free.  I’ll have to register for next semester early, but it’s doable.”

“Doable,” Rin repeats, for no other reason but for how funny it sounds.

“I got tickets to the planetarium this weekend,” Hisao says later, as they prepare dinner.  Rin is very carefully stirring the batter with her feet and a special spoon from her high stool and low table. “The light pollution means we don’t see the stars much, so I thought you’d want to go.

Rin does want to go, so she says “Thank you.”  They don’t speak much as Hisao measures ingredients and Rin very carefully cracks an egg on the rim of the bowl.  As she stirs the mixture, she thinks of the upcoming reunion.  The Phantom Thieves back together, with their friends from Yamaku.  A tiny part of her, the part that sounds like her Persona, seems to warn her: mixing those groups again might be hard.  She still hasn’t told Hisao about being a Phantom Thief, and she knows none of the others have either.  It’s still their secret.

But then she remembers that the danger has passed.  The Metaverse is gone.  There’s only a reunion of friends and a summer trip to look forward to, nothing more.

What could possibly go wrong?