This is a story about Naoto Shirogane that takes place in 2015 (approximately 4 years after the events of Persona 4). Do not worry if you have not had the pleasure of playing P4; prior knowledge is not a prerequisite.
The bus crawled through the fog; the low whine of its engine blurring murmurs of sleepy French. Every once in a while there was a cough or maybe a sneeze but not much else. Even a window seat gave only a lovely view of the same dirty grey. If you listened carefully enough you could even hear the wheels grind the asphalt.
Naoto sat huddled in the back of the bus poring over a soggy letter bearing the Interpol seal. It was a request for an interview... odd, that. Sure she was successful at apprehending the culprit in the Inaba case, but any competent detective would know that the circumstances surrounding the arrest were dubious at best. He* was the one that really deserved the credit anyways. But still, to be an Interpol detective...
"Grandpa, I will not fail you" Naoto muttered to herself. How long would it be until she arrived in Lyon? How much longer would it be to acheive her dream? She was ready...
Equipped with all the cool gadgets a spy could hope for, Naoto was ready to infiltrate the enemy lair. The radar detection system indicated a close proximity, she should remain vigiliant. Silent as a spectre she crept, listening for any sign of an ambush. One hand was prepared to dispatch organic targets with her silenced automatic 9mm pistol, the other rested on her belt buckle which contained a magnetic pulse unit in case she was swarmed by robotic drones. Dr. Megido had been thwarted once before by her last minute heroics, so she knew he would be ready for her this time. There! The entrance to Megido's secret lair! CHARRRGE! SNAP! Naoto tripped on a root and broke her gun. Her face raw and red, she cried, rubbing the dirt out of her eyes.
"Nao-chan! What's the matter?" Grandpa called, and ran to her. He coddled the little detective as she clenched the plastic shards of her gun.
"I'm a boy, a boy and I- I still... cry" she gurgled. Grandpa looked at her consolingly. "James Bond never, ever cries!"
"Now now Naoto, even boys cry."
Naoto shook her head "Nuh uh" as Grandpa carried her inside. "Boys never cry" she said, trying to hold back tears as Grandpa sterilized her wounds.
"Let me show you something" said Grandpa, leaving Naoto looking puzzled on the table. He came back with a dusty shoebox and gave it to Naoto.
"What's this?" she asked. Grandpa gestured and she peeked inside.
"That was your dad's" Grandpa said, indicating a toy gun held together with tape. "And here's a picture of him, with all his gadgets and junior detective badge. Does he remind you of someone?" Naoto lingered over the photo that she would've guessed was herself. "I remember when your dad used to play detective all the time. Must've broke that gun hundreds of times, and he'd come home hours late, pretending he wasn't crying."
Naoto looked up at her grandpa, and he patted her head. "You're a Shirogane too. You'll be a fine detective!" He reached into his pocket and produced a small case containing a shiny Interpol badge "just like your dad." Naoto reached to touch it, and Grandpa placed it carefully into her stared in awe at her father's badge; her reflection stared back.
"Keep it, Naoto. Let it remind you that your father will always be with you."
But why was her cheek so cold?
The adult Naoto lay slumped with her cheek pressed against the window. She checked her pocket and pulled out the case with the shiny badge that Grandpa had given her. It was her most precious posession: her birthright. She was to represent the 10th generation of the renowned Shirogane family detectives dating back to the Meiji era. Her Grandpa had worked with the American CIA tracking down fugitive Nazis in South America. Her Dad had served Interpol tracing human trafficking rings and saving countless children from a life of slavery.
Naoto stared into her reflection in the badge, and her girlish face glared back. Ugh, to be so shackled by emotions! How could these small hands hope to carry her father's mantle? No! Didn't she learn from Inaba that true strength burned from within? Within her 'delicate' frame burned an indominable spirit, and behind her eyes a powerful mind. To be a man was more than looking the part.
But still, Naoto didn't want to look like an amateur in front of Interpol. She grabbed a switchcomb and a small mirror from her pocket and took off her hat. Contemplating for a second, she straightened out her hat-hair and combed it over into a neat part. Satisfied, she placed the comb and mirror back into her pocket and adjusted her collar. The hat went into her briefcase, which she hoisted up onto the seat anticipating her arrival at Lyon.
Fortunately the city was not quite as foggy as the countryside. Naoto stepped off the bus and stretched, breathing the fresh air heartily. She might have sang if she were the type to do so. The bus station was flanked by hotels and restaurants all beckoning for her attention. Various bicyclists and pedestrians rolled and strolled by, watched casually by Beatnik cafe patrons. Sometimes a French girl sitting at a table with her friends would bat her eyes and blow Naoto a kiss; the detective would try to ignore her and the shrill, giggly chatter that followed. What was important right now was getting to the Interpol headquarters in time for the meeting. After consulting her map, Naoto set off at a brisk pace.
Interpol headquarters seemed unimpressive compared to the visions in her dreams. But then again pulp fiction wasn't always the best source of information. Indeed a modest sized headquarters made a lot more sense from a cost-efficiency standpoint especially considering the shrinking size and growing capabilities of information age technology, but still somehow in her mind she expected a sleek sci-fi mystique to wrap the herself, Naoto walked determinedly into the headquarters, where she encountered a front desk secretary who spoke in accented English.
"How may I be of service to you monsieur?" she said.
"My name is Naoto Shirogane" said Naoto, making a slight bow. "I am here to attend an appointment with the recruitment officer" she said, flattening out the letter upon the desk. The secretary put on a pair of reading glasses and took the letter. She typed into her computer, paused for a moment, and then handed the letter back to Naoto.
"I am sorry Monsieur Shirogane, it seems zere is some sort of mistake. Ze recruitment officer has no appointments scheduled for today, nor are zere any openings."
"That's impossible!" blurted Naoto, jabbing her finger at the paper "It says so right here!"
"Zere is no need to be rude Monsieur!"
"I apologize... Please, could you tell me why I received this letter requesting my presence for an interview at this precise hour and date if there are as you say no appointment and no openings?"
"Let me see" said the secretary, taking the paper back from Naoto. "Ah, zis paper... it is not ze same kind we use. Monsieur Shirogane, I am sorry to say your letter is counterfeit!"
"Why would anyone bother sending me a counterfeit letter from Interpol?" puzzled Naoto. "Making me come all the way here... if it was to make an attempt on my life, the logical time to do so would've been on my way here so I can rule that out as a possibilty." Naoto sat down on a nearby chair and stroked her chin. "Other than a particularly cruel practical joke, the only other reason I can think of for luring me all the way to France is to keep me away from home, but why would someo--" Naoto suddenly stood up. "Grandpa!" And she dashed out the door to the nearest airport... DUN DUN DUN!
Naoto Shirogane and Persona 4 belong to Atlus
*Main Character from P4