The High Cartomancer

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for riding with us today. We will be arriving in Shibuya shortly..."

Akira Kurusu was not a particularly involved student, but he wasn't precisely lazy, just prone to daydreams. Such as the cute one about being a writer for a Buchimaru-kun reboot (although, given how Buchimaru-kun was a chibi panda, the great Venn Diagram of him and cute tended to resemble a circle). But no, the announcement had sense him straight back to reality, and with that, straight back to the bitter understanding of why he was in Tokyo.

Thanks for sticking up for me, mom. That took, what, one whole hour you could have spent on whisky consumption to advocate for my transfer instead of juvie. This was, of course, an exaggeration. Mrs. Kurusu preferred lighter alcohols such as saki or box wine to the hard stuff. The Kurusus were not a happy family. Really, as much of a hardass as "Sojiro Sakura" seemed by the sound of him (even if Akira's full knowledge of him was 'he's desperate enough for money to take in delinquents for a year or so', that said a lot right there), it had to be better than his home situation by default. Better the apathetic than...whatever his parents were.

There was a quick "pipipi" from his phone as a text from the only reason Akira was still sane hit his phone.

FlameOfAnor: Going by the train times, I say you're reached your house arrest away from house arrest.

What was it with Hayato Kurou and his obsession with schedules? Still, he was grateful for the company-especially given how it was him who initially floated the idea of living with Sakura for a while.

Kurusu22: Got it in one.

FlameOfAnor: *victory emoji*

FlameOfAnor: It's a bit premature, but welcome to scenic Yongen-Jaya.

FlameOfAnor: Gawk in amazement at the Impossible Buildings, able to stand even while their supports are rotting out from under them.

Kurusu22: I take it you don't like it here.

FlameOfAnor: Spoiler; Sojiro has an attic above his restaurant for you.

FlameOfAnor: Until he gave it out for free, he had an ad for lodgers.

FlameOfAnor: The going rate was 28000 yen a month.

FlameOfAnor: This has permanently given him a reputation in Yongen-Jaya for being almost suicidally charitable.

Kurusu22: ...I take it's not a nice attic.

FlameOfAnor: Well, it's roomy and sterile, but it's an attic. There's only so nice you can get.

FlameOfAnor: Also, look where you're walking. You're about to fall off a curb.

Surprised, Akira skidded to a halt right at the edge of the street, where there was an ankle-twisting drop. A quick glance around confirmed there was no men in floral print pants texting nearby.

Kurusu22: HOW DO YOU DO THAT.

FlameOfAnor: Three guesses.

Kurusu22: You're an esper-except not really...

FlameOfAnor: I just have good intuition.

FlameOfAnor: You're learning.

FlameOfAnor: Really, you just walk while texting a lot, and I know my concrete nemesis far too well. Ow.

FlameOfAnor: But I'm sick of being so impersonal. See you at Leblanc.

With that, Hayato logged off.

As Akira put away his phone, he sighed. Luxury attics and buildings that stood out of inertia. Well, he couldn't really complain-unless Sakura lived outside of his cafe, there-

Huh.

Did the world seem a bit more...blue, than usual?

Taking off his glasses, Akira blinked a few times. No, it definitely wasn't that. For a moment, he wondered if he did need actual prescription lenses...then he noticed the world got especially blue around a single location. A bookstore, which would look like any other literary chain were it not for the shade that made it seem like it was underwater. Curious, he went inside-Sakura wouldn't mind him being, oh, five minutes late.

The shade abated once he was actually in the storefront, but in its place was something just as bizarre, sitting right on the counter. It was a book, to be certain, but not exactly one associated with typical mass-market reading. In fact, the term that sprung to mind was a Western medieval bible or other codex thereof, one that was as much work of visual art as a keeper of information. Someone had obviously put a great deal of effort into this book's cover, with complex designs of gold leaf and lapis insets across a binding that, Akira realized as he ran his fingers over it, had to be real leather. Emblazoned across it was a set of exactly twenty-three dragons in various poses, though two were so intertwined they may have been one, an image helped by how those two were the only that looked truly similar.

Contrary to popular belief, Akira was a proud bookworm; while he wasn't a honor student, this had more to do with he being marked out as a "problem child" since birth, and thus his teachers really didn't bother to nurture his intellect. The boy loved his books, though mostly for the stories within them-he wasn't a fan of online pdfs, but that had more to do with the tiny screen of his smartphone giving him eyestrain than any real objection to the concept. Few books, however, were as beautiful as this one tome. Somehow, somehow he sensed this was the source of the shade-the book wanted him to have it.

The frugal side of his personality immediately spoke up. This thing was obviously either a collector's item, or part of the shop display rather than on sale. Even if he could afford it, Sakura would probably not be pleased by the idea behind his temporary ward wasting most of his budget on a single book that was meant less for reading and more as a pretty paperweight.

Still, it didn't hurt to ask.

"Hey," he began to the store clerk. "That's a...very pretty book there."

"You like it?" The clerk smiled, obviously having rehearsed the speech. "It belonged to my grand-"

The world flipped. Space itself seemed to spiral in upon itself, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner became deafening, a surprised Akira tried to keep his balance-

And suddenly, he was outside the store.

With the book in his hands.

After gawking stupidly at his sudden acquisition, Akira suddenly realized exactly how it would look to the clerk if a valued possession of her family wound up in a delinquent's hands. Hurriedly, he stuffed the book into his bag, and walked as fast as he could towards the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya.

He never noticed that the storefront was now a blank wall.

Sojiro Sakura seemed...nice.

Well, kind of a hardass, unbelievably cynical, and probably the platonic ideal of someone who had their dreams crushed pretty thoroughly when he was younger. But the kind of crushed that made him intent on protecting other people from the same crushing.

Though currently, he had more important things to worry about than sleep. Cleaning, obviously-Hayato wasn't kidding about things only being able to get so nice with an attic. But then was the book.

Much to Akira's frustration, the book was written in a western tongue too, probably Greek going by the lettering. Thankfully, someone (likely the grandparent) had stapled a translation guide to the backside of the front cover-after a couple tries, transposing the foreign letters to katakana, at least. In fact, after a couple obvious mistranslations, the book's contents flowed like water, with Akira able to get the table of contents and half of the first chapter (of 27) translated.

(The idea that the book may have been helping him was not lost on him-it seemed active enough to teleport, for one).

As Akira worked, it became increasingly clear that the book was a novel, of sorts, entitledPilgrimage of the Wyvern. In it, a figure known only as the Wise Fool set out from a cruel, oppressive kingdom to "fly with the Dragons of those days", though Akira wasn't sure if the fool wanted to be friends with the dragons, or become one. Perhaps both. The first chapter covered the motives of the Fool, how his name came from the fact that he repeatedly did not see the point in things like war against a far-distant race of elves who sought to be left alone, or sending boys to toil in the flesh-forges of living weapons until they became weapons themselves. Curiously, the book focused a lot on the technical detail of many rites the Fool performed, keeping very precise detail of the various rituals he did that were supposedly innovations of the various rites his native land did without thought or understanding.

The boy decided it would not surprise him in the least if these rituals were guides to performing them in real life. This book was obviously supernatural enough as it was.

Of course, of the three rites he had translated, only one was feasible as it was right now. A rite to "behold the true nature" of those around you-and that came with a pretty major caveat.

The Fool shrieked and fled, and took a knife to his pupils. He cursed his vision, cursed his knowledge, cursed his enemy, cursed his mentor, cursed his friends, cursed his home, cursed his species, cursed his world-but cursed himself most of all, for his weakness. Of course the truth was terrible and ugly, he thought to himself. Lies were a shield, a holy shield between thought and shadow, a barrier against the savagery of knowing the blackest chambers of the heart. To look upon them required some will much greater than a mere fool. And so the second reason to fly with the Dragons laid itself within his soul...

If Akira had read this before his probation, he would have broken down into a giggling fit at the overblown words. Of course people weren't that sick, he would have thought to himself. Yeah, you may discover some people had an erotic balloon animal business, but after a little nausea, you'd be glad you knew what everyone was like.

After having been convicted for assault due to throwing a drunk potential rapist off his intended victim-due to his intended victim's testimony-well...

Akira spent long and hard looking at that ritual, rolling a ball back and forth. He'd love to know what the people in Shujin Academy were like, know who would accept a delinquent and who he should avoid at all cost...but then again, he didn't want to attend that school terrified of the monsters hiding in the heart of his homeroom teacher. It was quite the debate between the parliament of internal voices.

Then a new voice joined the chorus, one that sounded a lot like Hayato had when he was volunteering to take Akira to Shujin: Can you risk not knowing the monsters?

The voice won. Slowly, Akira started to mop up the remaining dust in the attic, mixing it with a can of convenient paint. The spell only worked if you cast it before sleep, after all.

"T' re'Ter'ATE," garbled the many-eyed, cillia-mouthed spider-slug thing that Hayato had named Principal Kobayakawa, "juSt sso wr' cLeAR, 'u w'll bE EXpElLed If 'u cA'se AnY Pr'blEmS." To emphasize its point, one of the tentacle-like arms trailed over Akira, leaving behind a thin trail of silk.

"No objections," Akira squeaked, in a voice he hoped came off as deferential rather than fear for his life.

"G'd." The spider-slug turned to the chained woman with no eyes but tears, cowering behind the cage the bloody, golden chains were wrapped through and constructed around. He was sure the spider-slug was saying something, but he would rather not listen to the buzzing, garbled "voice" any more than was absolutely necessary. The woman looked up, revealing the name-shaped scar around her throat. "I'm Sadayo Kawakami," she whispered, obviously strained from the twin gilded spikes driven through her heart. "Here's your student ID."

Ha. And think he'd be scared of his homeroom teacher's inner monster.

To be fair, it wasn't nearly as bad as he feared. True, he had to ignore pedestrians lest he see another naked skinless burning goblin (that was enough knowledge for a lifetime), but Sakura's monster looked...sad, but majestic. Wounded, particularly given how the translucent skin around his own heart revealed that there was a brand that looked like a woman's face on his left ventricle, but his wings put Akira in mind of a protective hawk (or more accurately, a bat) than any man-eater. Hayato's didn't seem that bad either, if a bit more cunning than Akira had thought of his "surrogate uncle." The main danger in Kawakami's beast was the overpowering urge to hug her in public and tell her repeatedly that everything would get better, which Akira suspected would probably result in jail time and pepper spray to the face.

The Principal, though? The Principal was in a class of his own-and going by the silver veins coming out of the slug's back trailing into the sky, Akira felt the lurching sensation he was only a cog in a much bigger, much more disgusting machine.

Thankfully, the meeting was incredibly short-Hayato just showed the paper Sakura had already signed, and after one last handshake with the Principal, the boy and his friend walked out-and straight to the bathroom, supposedly because the boy needed to pee, really so that he could rub that hand red with soap. Inanimate objects, thankfully, were not affected.

After coming out, both man and student walked a bit, exploring the halls of the empty school. Somehow Akira managed to avoid talking to a six-armed caped demon with a swollen tongue when Kawakami got his attention instead. Unfortunately, Akira did see the chameleon-like eyes get a good look at the chained teacher's rump, which was even more skeevy than usual given the slavery undertones that was Kawakami's entire true self.

Hayato patiently waited for his surrogate nephew to step retching in the corner before leading him to the car.

Inevitably, questions were asked.

But not the question Akria was expecting.

"It gets to be a burden, doesn't it?"

Akira blinked, confused. "Sorry?"

"Tzeentch's eyes," Hayato replied, rolling the vulture-like head on his enormous neck as his wings drooped. "Having to see the denied aspects of everyone, devoid of even the pretense of being the same species."

Akira was glad he wasn't drinking anything-else, he would have had to explain the stain in Sakura's car to him. "You can tell!?"

"More than that," he said, tapping his staff with a prehensile tail. "For ages, that was the only way I could see humans. It took me decades to blind myself to the Immaterium and the Shadows of people cast on it for more than an hour. Really, if you ask me, Jerdyl wrote that spell primarily so that other people could share her suffering. She was always a spiteful one, my little sister."

Akira was not stupid. From the sound of things, Hayato saw things like this since birth, and "decades" implied, well, twenty years or more-but the man Akira knew was barely 25. "Little sister" seemed also a bit strange, given how the yellowing and feel of the pages implied the book was many years older than modern paper, probably made just after the printing press was. And uh, the name. "Jerdyl" didn't exactly sound Japanese.

"...You're not from around here, are you?"

"Technically, I'm not sure I'm from around now. Time gets...odd, in the Immaterium, based on perception and thought." He chucked, his beak turning malleable before flowing into a form that resembled a sardonic grin. "Schedules are about the only way I can ensure that I'm actually moving in a consistent temporal direction in the Great Sea." His wings drooped a little bit more. "I wish that I didn't see farther than the present too, times. You do not want to know what happens to this galaxy around the thirtieth millennium on, let me tell you."

...Okay, now Akira had to know. "Huh? What happens then?"

Hayato sighed. "The ultimate victory of men like Kobayakawa. See, a couple thousand years previous, a group of shamans decided to blend their Shadows together, and from them form a perfect human..."

Slowly, Akira's perceptions readjusted themselves, and the interrogation room swam back into view. Damn tranqs-someone knew how to shut down psyker mutations. He mentally filed it away in his third cortex to check if a member of the Ordo Hereticus hadn't followed Hayat-Abazar back, and joined the Tokyo PD. Ugh, his head...

Sae Niijima nodded, the color having gone back to her face once she got used to the unshrouded and Clarified appearance of her former acquaintance. "I see. So Kurou knew you since before your probation. I can only assume he was the one who led you to the 'book' you learned your 'powers', from." She took out a file with a defiant Sadayo on the front, now heavily tattooed and with her eyes a cold azure rather than their original black. "Kawakami joined the church later, I assume? Before she killed the Takases."

"After," Akira corrected, tapping his talons on the table. "They wanted her to sell her body. I gave her an athame." The demon-masked knight swam back into view, but thankfully his brain wasn't so shot as for him to lose the ability to look at Sae's human body instead.

It was a testament to how anarchic things had gotten that Sae didn't react to the sudden revelation of Sadayo's last straw. "And the...daemon it summoned helped her hide the bodies, and then secure an escape route. I'll take a guess and assume that she wanted to deal with her guilt over killing her blackmailers and felt grateful for you giving her a way out."

"You guess well, Sae." Akira forced a smirk. "The Architect of Fate and the Dark Prince would war to possess your faith."

"I'm not one of your damn cultists!" Sae shouted, perhaps a bit too quickly and forcefully to come off as entirely sure of that assumption. "I..." Slowly, Sae sat back down, breathing slowly. "I'm sure you meant that as a compliment," she finished, evenly. "But you're still responsible for a lot of pain, and it's been...a long month."

"They teach you understatement in prosecutor school?" Akira asked.

"Stop kidding around!" Sae said, eyes narrowing. "I don't have time for your jokes, and neither do you!"

She pulled out another picture, this one of a distinct set of Tarot cards. "Tell me how you made these, and then tell me about your Coven. Who are they, and how did they get their powers as well?"

Behold, Rule 43: The more pure or innocent something is, the more satisfying it is to corrupt it.

Well, okay, that's not the whole reason. I just realized that Persona 5 is all about how Chaos and personal desires are good in the right doses, which naturally led me, being the Black Crusade fanboy that I am, to remember how the Chaos Gods are drawn to people who have been crushed repeatedly by social order. Part of what makes it the Great Enemy is that certain kinds of oppression make it worse-the Imperium has its just causes, but when they're forgotten, well...the dark path can begin with the desire to save your children, and so on.

(apologies if that's incorrect Latin. I don't speak it.)

Also, my attempt at writing Chaos at its most affable and sympathetic-which the Inquisition would argue (probably correctly), is when it's at it's most dangerous.

On a related note: Before you ask-neither Slaaneshi priest in the Phantoms is one who puts the sexual side of the Dark Prince front and center. They're both more about beauty...and chasing satisfaction.

This has only 50% to do with both being minors, actually.

Also, be warned; I have a summer internship coming up, and this fic isn't my top priority, even among writing fanfic. So be warned of delay.