Disc: I do not own any Megami Tensei characters.
Our Fifth Son
Part 1 - Human
The slanted roof of the Golden Gal was splendid, and doubly so for one who had experienced Tokyo's long dark and climbed up there before. Back then, the old pub had merely been a perch, yet another platform of rusted dead metal from which one could spot demons or other passerby, to be used and discarded like all the other abandoned buildings in Tokyo.
Now, in the light of day you could see the entirely of the Shinjuku district, from the sparkling rivers of the National park where the Kagome Tower had once loomed all the way over to the train station. Past that, the taller towers of the government district blocked any chance of seeing the smaller park in the northern end, but Isabeau knew it was there. There, and partially restored to what she'd been told was it's former glory. Just as the Golden Gal itself might one day be.
Even if it was not the roof of a castle overlooking a grand kingdom such as Mikado had been, she still considered it the best view in the district, the only place where you could see all the places where the changes Tokyo's people had made were readily visible. The perfect spot to get away from it all, to see one's dreams in the open sky and reminisce on the recent past.
Though at the moment, the other person she shared the roof with did not seem to think of it that way.
From side to side, from rest to upraised his samurai sword danced through the bright morning air, cleaving it with a force she felt unbecoming for mere practise. To the untrained eye, the young black-haired man in the blue coat was working his thin blade through a dazzling routine offering strong hints to the deadliness of his technique in battle. To most samurai, that would indeed be a most accurate assessment of both the routine and the man.
Isabeau, however...
She had been his friend from the start, and she could tell. Reputation both deserved and hyperbolic did not sway her professional eye watching the man who had become the Blade of Tokyo forge up the steep slant of the roof, as if learning to fight in a strong wind current, the aggressiveness and swiftness of his cuts reminding her more of Walter than himself With anyone else, she would have brought such a peril up and asked them to stop before they hurt themselves.
She wasn't worried about that with this one. But she still would have preferred him to stop, so that she could cease wondering just how long that anger warping his swordsmanship might last. After several breaths, he did just that, sheathing his blade and turning, his piercing emerald eyes grimmer than usual. The anger had abated. It was not gone.
"Hoy. So you've heard, Isabeau", Flynn acknowledged in a tone reflecting his face.
"Kasumajiri", she echoed, still frantically marshaling her thoughts on the matter. As usual in their sparring sessions, Flynn had caught her off guard, giving her no time to think things through.
Kasumajiri. Despite their best efforts to remain knowledgeable of the people under their care, they were not even close to knowing the names of every person in Tokyo or from Mikado under their protection. Kasumajiri, however, was a name neither of them would forget. A demon hunter native to Shinjuku, and one of the best before Mikado's samurai had come here. A wisecracker who made up for it with great dexterity when the fighting started, he had been one of the first to join the cause when Flynn had first began the lengthy quest of becoming the 'hero of Tokyo'. If Isabeau had somehow been able to forget her annoyance when the helmeted warrior had hit on her at their first meeting, she still would not forget the number of battles he'd contributed to since then, nor the lives he'd saved.
And now he was gone. "His family", Flynn sighed. "Denounced me in full view of everyone this morning. His wife was screaming and crying, wishing aloud that I'd never come here. She said we should have wiped out the Ashura-Kai from the start."
"That is hardly fair", she rebutted, climbing up to her friend's perch and sitting. So many times now they had seen people's reactions to the deaths of friends and relatives by demons or others. It never got any easier to bear.
"I know. I promised a new hope for everyone, and instead their loved one dies because of me. Not fair at all."
Just like that, her initial sympathy was out like a light. "Tell me", she began carefully, "just what is it that makes men into such complete fools at times? Is it something in the water?"
Flynn nearly sat up in anger, though she knew he would never truly harm her. Perhaps that was why he was the only one she now felt at ease speaking honestly with. Also, because he was smarter than most- he caught onto what she truly meant almost immediately, and resumed his seat on the lip of the roof.
"Kasumajiri joined the mission because he believed in me. He had faith that I would protect all the hunters and samurai who went with me!"
"His family is emotional right now", Isabeau countered in equal temper. "As a hunter, he risked his life every day fighting demons, do you really think they hadn't realized something like this might happen?!"
Cut to the heart, he lay back. "Killed by demons, yes. Killed by humans? Shot in the back as he attempted to negotiate a ceasefire?"
"Dead is dead", she said harshly. "And I don't think you could find anyone else who thinks Tokyo is more dangerous now than it was before we freed Masakado and dispelled the Firmament."
He rose again, his distinctive black ponytail drooping as if echoing his mood. "That doesn't change the fact that we caused this situation. We're losing people, Isabeau. Every single day, someone dies from a demon attack or the Ashura-Kai, or the Ring on one of their crazy killing sprees. I can't stop it from happening. I'm the Blade of Tokyo, everyone's hero... and I'm powerless."
For a while she could think of nothing to say. These bouts of self-pity had happened before, but this was the most depressed she had ever seen her friend. When she had been despairing at the forces racing to tear their world apart, he had been strong. When impossible tasks lay before them, it was always him, not her, who had risen to the challenge. When their comrades had split apart over ideological differences, Flynn had made an affirmative choice, while she had abstained out of indecision and fear.
But even the greatest man alive could not remain strong forever. Time for me to start earning my keep, she told herself firmly. While they had both worked tirelessly to revive Masakado and save everyone from the war between angels and demons, there was no question that Flynn had carried the heavier load, done more of the grunt work than she, and the work in question involved hundreds of battles to the death with demons large and small. It was his name the people praised as the champion of Tokyo, not hers. Some of the women in Mikado would have said that all that was only fitting for a man, to which Isabeau might have slapped them. Men only earned her contempt when they acted like arrogant fools, and Flynn, to her knowledge, was one of the few men who was not such a fool... well, most of the time...
"You have changed", she said stiffly, for once cursing her formal Luxuror upbringing. Uncouth and vulgar as Walter and Flynn sounded to her at times, their language got to the point more quickly. "I can see that much. When you left us, something like this didn't bother you at all."
"That... was before everyone in Tokyo placed their hopes in me. In my strength, my ability to protect them."
"No." She drew closer, daring as he did to dangle both legs off the edge of the roof, and hoped they wouldn't be interrupted by a demon or some other crisis. "I never asked you what happened when you journeyed into the Expanse. We had far bigger things to worry about... but I would like to know now."
Flynn's legs descended several notches back down across the edge, and his face suddenly looked frightened. "You really want to know?"
"I do", she insisted without hesitation, brown eyes never leaving his. Surely this revelation could not be any worse that the horrors they'd witnessed in the Reverse Hills facility? Though they had both strove to find the good in it, coming from Mikado she had found Tokyo to be a land of a thousand depravities large and small.
What could one more hurt?
"Alright", he breathed out at last. "It's killing me to hold this all to myself anyway. Oh, except..."
He raised his gauntlet, holding it level with his own. "Hoy, Burroughs. You saved recordings from our time in the other worlds, right?"
The replying voice was identical to the one within Isabeau's own gauntlet. Female, and usually enthusiastic. Both of them had found the AI to be a useful and loyal helper. "Of course, master."
"Good. If I leave anything out, remind me would you?"
"Naturally. I know how unreliable human memory can be."
Flynn snickered a moment at the insult, then returned to the ashen pall he'd borne since Kasumajiri's death and pulled both legs up and to the left, so that he sat before her with them folded, locking eyes again.
"Listen well. This is what happened when the gate to the Expanse was opened."
She did listen, from start to finish. Were it anyone else, even a fellow samurai or hunter, she might have suggested he'd taken in too much of the strange alcoholic drinks widely available in Shinjuku.
But no. Bizarre and terrible sights and experiences had become part and parcel of their existence from the moment they had been chosen by the gauntlets as Prentices, and Flynn was the one man still alive that she could trust not to lie. Certainly not about something of this magnitude.
When he was done, with relatively few corrections from Burroughs, she lay back on the roof in contemplation. The ideas seemed too big to contain within her skull, and many of them hurt to handle for too long.
"Other worlds", she spoke at last to the open blue sky. The story had occupied so much time that the sun had now risen nearly to its apex, its light all the more glorious for a land that had gone without it for longer than either of them had lived. "Other possible worlds, based on the decisions you make."
"And the White", Flynn reminded her urgently, as if confronting those formless beings had jarred him even more than seeing Tokyo reduced to a lifeless wasteland choked by poison. "The White who sought what they believed to be the only way out of God's system, the only way to be free of Him."
"Self-important nihilists", Burroughs' tinny voice sounded from his gauntlet in a rare show of contempt for the AI. "They have no right to terminate everyone else's fates just because they are dissatisfied with the world."
"No", Isabeau agreed after a moment, staring at her own gauntlet. By now, Flynn's AI helper would have shared all memory data of this incident with hers. Of course the two would share feelings on the matter. "They do not."
"Yet I was their fifth son", Flynn reminded her coldly, refusing to stare back. "Their fifth attempt to create a destructive messiah willing to return all to nothing, once they had shown me the end results of two potential paths. That is why I am strong, Isabeau. That is why I was entrusted as the strongest of us Prentices."
There it was, Isabeau could tell. That was the core of her friend's discontent. Everything else, the horrible deaths brought about by the demons, losing Tennozu and Ueno to them, the stubborn refusal of both the Ashura-Kai and the Ring of Gaea to stop attacking others, never mind actually join with them as Flynn had initially hoped they would... it was all just window dressing around one festering wound of a thought, one that grew stronger with every tragedy and setback:
They created me. What if I was wrong? What if they are right?
"I have trained endlessly", Flynn said hollowly. "According to Burroughs' read on my vitals, I have reached the limits of my potential."
Obligingly, the AI changed screens as Isabeau took Flynn's gauntlet into hand. A large chart of numbers was there now, indicating that her friend had indeed reached 'Level 99', the purported maximum potential for a human according to Burroughs' data. All of the other ratings for strength, vitality, magical power and the like, were also all at their highest possible reading. Isabeau considered it likely they were accurate.
"My demons are all far stronger now than even Tokyo's famed National Defence Divinities. Yet we cannot stop the war", he echoed, staring across the spread of lifeless buildings, lifeless despite all their efforts. "Humanity remains stubbornly divided. We're still killing each other, even as the demons chow down wherever I'm not there to protect people. Too, I fear that God will not remain idle forever. We have defied His will. Without the Firmament to protect us, He could destroy us all on a whim."
Having gone with him to the strange dimensional space known as the Purgatorium and nearly dying several times fighting the seemingly will-less angels there, she could only nod in confirmation. The fear had occupied her thoughts as well, though after a life spent in worship at the monastery she still clung distantly to the notion that the angels had been mistaken, that they had misinterpreted the Lord's will somehow, or that perhaps they were being hoodwinked by some celestial impostor.
That comfort did nothing to heal the injuries which Merkabah's searing light had given her on that day, just as it had Flynn. Alone, she would not have triumphed.
"I understand now", Flynn was saying harshly, looking up into the bright sky as if trying to spot some hidden enemy in the clouds. "Skins did warn me. The Firmament was not created merely to seal away the demons from the rest of the world, nor to punish its people, though it surely served those purposes as well. T'was to shield Tokyo's people from divine wrath."
As paranoid as that sounded to her ears, she had seen her friend fight enough to know that his instincts were rarely ever wrong. If he feared something, then it was probably a threat. The question was, were they ready to handle the retribution of both demon and angel-kind, along with two groups of humans seemingly intent on causing nothing but trouble before the end?
For the first time, Flynn looked like he might have answered no. A high scream flew up to them. Young. Female. Frightened for her life.
"Demon attack", Flynn growled, standing, hand reflexively drifting down to the hilt of his blade. "Or else the Ring of Gaea attacking civilians again. I promised Skins I'd be up here waiting to take his report on the mission to Kasumigaseki, wait here for him, will you?"
Her first instinct was to protest at being thought of as a mere servant, that they should go together, but the scream was still in her ears as well. This was life and death. Gender roles could wait if it meant preserving more lives... And Flynn looked determined to save this one, all shadow of his earlier weakness banished to some deep corner of the mind. "A...alright. Be careful."
"Were it only my safety in question", he murmured, spreading his arms. "This would be a child's game. Fare you well, my friend."
As if looking to demonstrate his point, he quickly jumped from the roof, dashing off in pursuit the moment he hit the pavement.
Leaving her alone, waiting. Demons would occasionally climb up here now looking for an easy meal, and she would be forced to show them the folly of that decision. "Burroughs", she whispered so quietly she wasn't sure the AI would hear. "Status check."
She watched the display on her gauntlet, lowering that arm in disgust. Only 75*. "I am weak", she said angrily, returning attention to the beautiful open sky above. Only now it seemed threatening, rather than comforting, the clouds darkening as if to rain.
"Master, that's not true. Remember that the status analysis app only measures your combat performance data and gives a computerized estimate of your overall capability. It might well be incorrect. Besides, we haven't seen a demon over 70 for days now. You are not weak."
Of course Burroughs would tell her that. If Flynn's stories were any indication, the AI was programmed to try to keep its master's spirits high with encouragement whenever appropriate. A samurai who lost the will to fight was of no more use in a combat situation than a civilian.
"I meant compared to him", she amended.
"That's not a fair comparison. As a male he has greater upper body strength. He himself admitted that he was gifted with greater combat prowess than most humans at a young age. Furthermore, his upbringing as a Casualry means that his muscles are more developed through years of manual labour, and he-"
"Stop", she commanded. "Just... stop. I've no wish to hear excuses. Switch off for now."
Alone. Truly alone, this time. The demons had learned their lesson for the moment. When she was alone, the only companion she needed was a good book, preferably a good manga. And as if responding to her thoughts, her eyes strayed over to the volume lying wedged underneath a bent piece of metal roofing so it would not fall off.
Her eyes brightened. So Flynn had taken her recommendations seriously after all. He could not devote all of his time to warfare and grief. No man could, not without becoming hard and unfeeling. But just what sort of manga had he been reading up here?
The volume was a bit thicker than most, but as usual reading it made the time seem to fly by. Not her favourite, but it was some interesting subject matter. It concerned a brewing war between two countries. One, Brittania, was a vast conquering Empire possessing a mighty military, while the other, Japan, had suffered under its subjugation so badly that both it and its destitute citizens were now referred to as mere numbers. A rebellion had formed against this, and even one of Brittania's own nobility had sought to free Japan from oppression, blessed as he was with the strange ability to control the will of others with the mere gaze of his left eye.
If she had read it looking for nothing but an uplifting escape from grim reality, she would be disappointed at the end. There were many more volumes after this one of course, but Isabeau could easily see the parallels her friend had surely noticed with their own situation. The majority of the mangas she had read were not nearly so bleak as this. She would have to recommend her favourites to him later in hope of jump-starting his spirits anew.
For now, she merely slid the book back beneath the plate. Skins should have been here by now, but Flynn had not told her exactly when it would be suitable to fear for his safety, or else go to his aid herself in the event that the Ring of Gaea had taken issue with this intrusion into what they saw as their territory.
There was no fighting it. Days of battling demons had eroded her resolve, and slowly she found herself falling into slumber beneath the cloudy sky.
"Murderer."
The clawing accusation jarred her into consciousness... or not. She had not gone to sleep in an endless white void without even a sky for context of location. And the one standing over her, insulting her, was probably not a demon. And it was certainly not Skins.
It was Flynn. Or rather, it wore his body and coat, probably an illusion.
"Bitch. Hurry up and die already, will you?"
Definitely not Flynn. This one had not even Casualry manners in him, and even more striking was the complete lack of colour anywhere on him. This pitiful imposter was nothing but...
Nothing but White. "Oh. My."
"You lost your hearing?", Not-Flynn asked impatiently as she scrambled to her feet to face him and drew her blade. "I said hurry up and die already, so that I can be born. You're killing me here."
"Your words lack meaning", she replied scornfully, absently nothing the strange way her voice carried in this white space, just as his did. "I have never slain one such as you, and I have no intention of dying... and you are not him, so cease this ridiculous pretence."
Not-Flynn did not smile. She merely felt an undercurrent of wicked amusement not unlike particularly smug demons. "But I am. I am the true face he hides from the world. I am every thought he has buried, thinking them of no consequence. Until you die, he'll keep burying me in denial, fighting his despair for no reason. Until you die, bitch, I can't be free."
"You are the final obstacle", a new voice echoed from the other side of her. Turning, she saw four additional apparitions forming, all bearing familiar forms but pale as the first providing a lack of contrast that made them difficult to see at first. As though she needed any further confirmation of this foul-mouthed impostor's origins. "The only anchor remaining. The last crutch to be knocked away before our fifth son can fulfil the purpose he denied."
Flynn had told her of these White ones who could only borrow the forms of others to communicate. He had spoken of one who took on the form of the Abbot Hugo, another the aged bartender K. The third, who had taken on her form... and the fourth and oldest, who had become his tragic friend from Kiccigiorgi village, Isschar.
These were not those forms. The first, the one who had spoken to her, had now taken the bushy hair, scarf and pure face and eyes of Jonathan. The second one beside him was copying Walter's rougher looks and untamed body, but bore none of his good humour as he talked down to her, only grim solemnity.
"Even having the futility of his situation demonstrated repeatedly to him, he spurned us, and slew us in grotesque denial of the ultimate truth."
The third White spoke now, bearing the tall, hooded form of Sister Gabby, but no less grave than any of the others. Only Not-Flynn seemed to have any true passion in his words, though now even he was waiting patiently behind her for his brethren to finish.
"Soon, he will learn that the truth cannot be stifled. Mankind has only an eternity of despair and sorrow to look forward to, because they are mere tools. Even now, he leads humanity down a path of ruin. If demons do not consume and corrupt, if by some miracle all humans should learn to accept one another and live in peace, then God's will shall undo all of your work in an instant. He shall never permit any life to exist that is not dependent upon His wisdom. There is only one way for any entity to be truly free of Him."
"Return the world to nothingness", Isabeau finished scornfully. Flynn had been correct. These apparitions were insufferably self-righteous, believing that they had all the answers. "A coward's solution!"
"The only solution", the eldest White countered, and now she could make out the thin beard and long nose of her dear father on its features. Tears trailed down square eyes that were normally full of life and laughter, forever frozen upon its face just as Issachar's tears had reportedly been.
"Understand. We all were once like you, believing that we could change the world for the better. Some of us sought freedom and change, others sought preservation of the order of things. Some, like you, sought the middle road between the two sides in fear of either extreme, too weak in will to decide. In the end, all of our hopes and dreams were left naught but ash, and we realized the final truth. None of our choices matter so long as humanity is beholden to God's will."
She felt her legs take an involuntary step back. More than any of the rest, the eldest White let the strength of his own convictions shine through in his voice.
"Look upon my chosen form", it continued. "Your own beloved father, who devoted his every breath to providing for you and your mother, who always spent time with you, who never once sinned or abused his position. Yet when he spoke out against the new rulers of Mikado, even his status as a Luxuror meant nothing. You could not even be there to aid him when his purging was ordered by God's heralds, and none attempted to save him. What other solution can there possibly be for a world that would allow that fate to befall such a man of virtue?"
Another reflex action, despite knowing that this had to be a dream vision- closing her eyes in contemplation. This was how the White worked, she knew from what Flynn had told her. Doubt and despair were their life's blood, if they could be properly considered to be 'alive' at all. It was impossible to say whether she might have actually been convinced by this if she had not known beforehand just how eager these five were to drive others into the same consuming despair.
"So be a good girl and die already", White Flynn finished angrily behind her. "Bring him the despair and the pain that he needs to finish what he started, so that I can become him. See? There's another decision already made for you, so you don't have to. And once you're dead, you won't have to make any hard decisions at all, won't that be nice for you?"
It wasn't hard to see what he was getting at, and somehow it made her skin burn even more than the one taking the form of her late father had. "I am not indecisive", she protested, wheeling to face him head-on. "I simply could not easily choose between two equally flawed causes as Jonathan and Walter did. I required time to think!"
"Of course", White Flynn remarked sarcastically- another mortal trait she felt like his older brethren had long since given up on. "That must be why, when things got tough, you fled to the Counter-Demon Force base, crying like a little bitch 'cause you just didn't know what to DO until a big strong MAN showed up to take charge."
"That...no! It wasn't like that!"
She felt faint. Burning up... but foreknowledge of the White's penchant for psychological warfare halted her blind charge, and she stood up straight and simply glared daggers at the impostor. "I make my own decisions. And I choose to live for as long as I can. And I should mention that is not merely because your ridiculous posturing has given me more reason to live and work to save humanity."
A chorus of sickening laughter from the four behind her answered, though as she had suspected all concept of true mirth was alien to them. Not so for White Flynn, who stepped forward and drew out a samurai blade devoid of colour and life as he was.
"Have it your way", he scoffed. "Keep on struggling endlessly. Keep on trying to preserve that empire of dirt, so that when you die, it'll be even more devastating to him. I will let you down..."
Whatever else one could say about the impostor, he had the original's quick blade. It shot out too quickly to dodge, piercing her chest and coming out the back, not deadly but icy cold to the touch.
I WILL MAKE YOU HURT.
Then she was rolling, rolling and tumbling and waking up to the pain of sudden impact against the edge railing. Instinct shot one arm out in time to grab the small metal trough along it and she hung there, staring down at the drop and cursing.
Brilliant. Go to sleep on a slanted roof where any tossing and turning could throw you off the flat spot. Well done Isabeau, excellent way to show Flynn you really are a stupid girl who can't make any decisions on your... own.
She could not twist around to see, but the presence she felt obligingly flew around to face her on four wings of metallic gold feathers. Even those should not have been able to levitate such a large body, more shining armour than flesh, but she'd learned quickly that demons and angels cared little for the standard laws of physics.
"Not now", she asked halfheartedly, already knowing the most likely reason for this intruder to be here. "Intruding upon on a girl's private time?"
"It speaks, but it does not converse", the green-skinned angel replied in the same ethereal reverb of all its kind, though male and young-sounding. "I am the Archangel Paul. And I am come here to slay you in the name of the Lord, perfidious one."
A/N: So I guess people waiting for me to finish Ogre Battle: MOBQ can tell what's been distracting me now.
While far from perfect, after completing all the endings I found Shin Megami Tensei IV to be a breath of fresh air for one who had heard of but never been able to try the legendarily difficult and religious series. A dizzyingly chaotic and dark (but not 'grimdark') world for a portable where your choices truly do make the difference. I was so psyched by achieving the preferred Neutral ending at long last that I simply had to write a postgame, though as you can probably tell by now this is going to be more of a journey for Isabeau than Flynn, for whom I have seen complaints that her indecision, supposed timidity and lack of resolve are somehow demeaning for women. I aim to remedy that perception here.
It will also be fairly short compared to the multi-chapter affairs I usually do. Apologies to the hardcore SMT buffs out there if I mess up a franchise reference somewhere along the line. Because as I said, I've only played SMTIV, merely researching the subject matter and characters of the previous game, Nocturne/Lucifer's Call.
Hope you enjoy it!
*- Based off Isabeau's level in the Law Route.