PROLOGUE

He awoke in chains, like he always did. Somehow they seemed to weigh heavier this time, as if they wanted to keep him there, chained to his bed forever. Part of him would like that. The game was over; he had failed. What else was there to do except sleep? He wouldn't need to think, wouldn't need to feel any of it ever again.

Regret.

Hatred.

Longing.

Consuming him from the moment he woke up to the moment his consciousness finally let go of him.

For the first time in his life, he would be free. He closed his eyes again and waited, trying to let go of the bittersweetness of it all holding him back. Instead, he heard a deep chuckle come from the small light in front of him.

"My, my. This truly was an unjust game. The justice you once fought for seems to have finally abandoned you, once and for all."

He said nothing. What was the point of all this? Yes, he had a destiny, a purpose, but it had gone now. He had well and truly been defeated. There was no point in reflection any more. Except...

Memory came back to him in short flashes. He held on to them, but the meaning behind kept slipping away. The deep voice started again.

"Your bravery and tact was unprecedented. You have battled with all your strength, that much, I can admit. However, it has all been for nought. You were bested by the very people you were fated to destroy."

He forced himself to sit up, angry now. Was that entirely true? Was he merely a pawn in the workings of a larger, much more complicated game? Instinct told him that he wasn't.

"I find myself at an impasse with you. Your abilities are exactly the same as that of your worst enemy. However, it stands to reason that two different fates should not coexist. One of you were bound to destroy the other, in the end."

Something had changed, it must have. He had been defeated, that much was clear, but his defeat was not what had killed him. Something had definitely changed towards the end. He had not killed his sworn enemy, and he had not killed him. So what was it?

The flashes of memory started to come into focus.

The slamming of a large, metal gate. His own face, twisted and evil, melting into nothingness. His voice croaking from the bullet wound that his monstrous other self had given him.

"Fight my father... In my stead..."

Of course. It was only in the last moments of his life that he had come to realise his true enemy. It had, however, meant the end of him. He had not followed through with his rehabilitation, and that had sentenced him to death. But that was perfectly fine. Jealousy had turned to admiration, and his dying wish had been accepted. Relief washed over him, taking him out of his confusion. Everything was clear. He was no longer seeing through the eyes of the victim, the manipulated. He stood up with newfound strength and hobbled towards the barred gate to meet his maker. He decided to use the voice that had so often hidden his true self from others. Polite, charming and ever so slightly amused, as if he knew something his listener didn't.

"I'm afraid you haven't been keeping with the times, old man. It turns out I was never truly meant to destroy the Trickster after all. My purpose, my reason to live, it was all wrong." He chuckled to himself. "You could say I had a change of heart. I died a Phantom Thief, assisting my true friends in our mission." He relished the thought of rebelling against his own destiny, the rules and prophecies that had come to control his life. Until now.

If the man before him was shocked, he did not show it. Instead, the wide grin across his face seemed to spread even further.

"Do you know why you are here?" he asked simply. "Perhaps you will indulge me. You and the Trickster were brought into this world to prevent ruin. You are both more connected than you might think. Your names are rather similar for one thing. Why, even this room..." He looked around the familiar set of cells, lit by a bluish hue. After a few moments, he continued. "The hearts of men are wretched and unfulfilled, and measures must be taken to ensure that chaos does not reign. The Trickster was tasked with preventing the destruction of the world as we know it. You, on the other hand, were to be the one to bestow that destruction. Either way, humanity would start again, free of desire, and have a second chance at redemption. This was the game, and it has truly been most entertaining to witness."

The old man looked incredibly satisfied, as if he expected this to happen all along. This was unnerving. Surely he himself was the person that was always one step ahead of everyone else? He sighed inwardly. That had been disproved when he had unknowingly failed to assassinate his past enemy. This was new. He had no idea what lay ahead, or if anything lay ahead at all. What he had just been told had led him to believe that everything in his life, everything that had happened, seemed to be dictated by whatever was sitting in front of him. The old man straightened his crooked form.

"You say your fate has been changed. I believe you. If the realm of matter is truly beyond saving, I shall enter the fray myself and pioneer a new world order for mankind, so that humanity may never fall into chaos. In this case, you would have a new use for me."

His eyes widened, and he realised that he was afraid. This man, this... being... had much, much more power than he let on. He was at the mercy of the omniscient. He longed to be away from this place, back in the warm, friendly presence of a certain suburban café...

The old man stood up, looking deep in thought.

"In fact, I grow tired of earthly games." The man's voice had become deeper, more distorted. He stepped back from the bars, chains clinking on the concrete floor. The man lifted off the ground slowly, his eyes becoming brighter. The room seemed to grow darker and smaller around him, as if he were commanding the very atoms around him to recoil. The cell door flew off its hinges. The boy inside trembled with fear.

"Ruin will be arriving momentarily. Come." The old man's mouth was no longer moving. The large ball connected to the chains restraining him started to move of its own accord towards the being. He began to walk, silent and shaking. The few, precious moments of freedom the boy felt before his death were destined to be the only moments he would ever feel it. Without trying to break free from his shackles, he followed the being out of the room and out of sight. Beyond the realms of dream and reality, mind and matter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

So I finished Persona 5, and it's become one of my favourite games of all time. However the game did leave me with a few questions, questions I hope to address in this fic. I haven't written fiction in a while, and I don't tend to excel in large projects at all, but I hope what I have in mind makes it. It's very cathartic for one thing. For now enjoy this lil' one shot, giving a taster into some of the themes I want to explore. Any critique/pointers will be greatly appreciated.