Disclaimer: SMT and Persona are the property of Atlus

I've heard it said that there's a case in every detective's career that changes him forever, reforges him into a man worthy of the title. While I don't put much stock into the ramblings of senior detectives, who can't keep their mouths shut about the kind of work they did while they were in my position, I can say that I'm no longer the same person I was when the year began. That bizarre series of murder investigations I was on and everything surrounding them… They've changed everything. But I'm getting ahead of myself, of course.

My name is Goro Akechi, and I am a detective of Tokyo's Metro Police department. Some call me the Golden Boy and others, the next Detective Prince because of my young age, young enough to still be in high school. Yet my investigative skills have been compared to Shirogane-san's when she was just starting out, and I've been given actual police work because of it.

Unlike Shirogane, however, I didn't have a career-making case to my name. The Inaba serial kidnapping and murder case made huge headlines; everyone was talking about it. It's the one that made Shirogane famous and earned her a spot on the force well before she was officially qualified. That's exactly the kind of case I wanted for myself, something that would legitimize that label the media put on me.

And in the Phantom Thieves Investigation, I thought I'd found it.

It was raining the day I was called in. I remember a foreboding atmosphere settling in as I rode the train to the police station. Call it my detective's instinct or whatever you want, I could tell there was something big ahead of me and it wasn't my final exams.

I strolled into the chief's office on hesitant steps. Usually I don't get urgent calls like this unless there's an emergency. It interferes with my studies after all, and it makes the department look bad if I'm deprived of an education.

"I'll make this brief," he said with a look of resignation on his face. "You're being transferred to SIU. They want you on the Phantom Thieves case."

There they were, the words that would change fate, that would eventually open my eyes which had been closed since before I was born. I was shocked, to say the least.

"Wasn't Shirogane on that one?" I remember asking him. Why would the department need an up-and-comer like me when one of their most talented detectives was on the case, after all?

"By her insistence, yes," the man answered me, sighing. "It's taken three weeks for them to move her to something they consider more 'pressing.' The Thieves case is a dead end in their eyes; just a bunch of kids taking credit for people's deaths. That's why they're giving it to you."

How naive they were, though I shouldn't be one to talk.

It had been exactly three weeks since the murder of the struggling artist Ichiryusai Madarame at the hands of the Phantom Thieves and there still hadn't been any progress made in figuring out who was behind it.

Though, calling it a murder was a bit of a stretch by the department's standards.

See, the first victim was considered a death by natural causes. Suguru Kamoshida, gym teacher at the prestigious Shujin Academy, had suffered a heart attack while browsing the web and that was that. Except there was a calling card left on his screen, taking credit for his murder.

"Suguru Kamoshida, vicious predator of Lust has been promptly executed for the crimes of merciless torture and violation of the young men and women under his guidance. Should any other with villainous intent hope to follow in his footsteps, you shall meet a similar fate.

-Signed, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts"

They hadn't really considered taking the message seriously at first. After all, it just sounded like a bunch of kids had found his dead body and decided to play a prank. However, further investigation yielded interesting results. The man apparently HAD been a lecher, physically abusing Shujin's volleyball team as well as sexually abusing female students. We know because someone decided to plaster evidence all over Shujin's walls for everyone to see; the countless photographs, personal records kept by the bastard himself, and emails which implicated even the principle, pointed to a series of offenses that had been going on for years. And in some weeks or months, someone managed to uncover a fraction of his crimes for the world to see.

Seems like a textbook case of murder, right? A premeditated crime justified in the eyes of the perpetrator for their victim was a horrible criminal, right?

Just one problem. The cause of death was a heart attack.

There'd been no sign of drugs in his system which could incite one and no signs of a struggle of any kind. Investigating the scene yielded nothing; there was no sign that anyone else had even been in the apartment with him during the murder and interviewing his neighbors seemed to confirm that very thing. Eventually the coroner ruled it as extreme stress which had caused his heart to go out. As far as the department was concerned, that was that. Case closed.

I didn't buy it, even at the time.

Kamoshida's medical history didn't match the ruling. The man had been the picture of health right up to the day he died, and his family hadn't shown a susceptibility to heart disease. The whole thing stank like a sports team post-practice, but it's not like I could do anything about it. It was out of my jurisdiction and any advice I could try to offer would just be brushed off. My hands were tied and all I could try to do was put it behind me and focus ahead. If there were perpetrators, they were probably Shujin students anyway, so it was unlikely for there to be another victim. Or at least that's what I thought.

Then Madarame was killed. Dead body slumped over his computer just like Kamoshida with a calling card accompanying; same style but Vanity this time instead. The day he was found, the art gallery that was hosting his works was opened only to be filled with countless copies of his most famous work, The Sayuri. The walls were covered with them, and the ones that wouldn't fit were resting on the ground, the most damning piece of evidence in the center of it all with a spotlight shining on it.

It was the original Sayuri, which the man had claimed stolen, with the bottom layer of paint removed, unveiling the true subject of the painting which had mystified the art community for so long. The painting was of a woman swaddling her newborn child. Further investigation revealed that it was a portrait of a former pupil of his, a self-portrait. Apparently, the man hadn't been able to produce an original work for quite some time, taking all of "his" paintings from his apprentices and threatening their livelihood if they refused or talked.

Madarame's crimes were unforgivable, of course. He'd ruined more than one life, as the testimony of a number of his former students would indicate. The question was, how did the Phantom Thieves know about it of they were just a bunch of Shujin kids messing around?

That's the question that caused the Department to finally start taking this case seriously, and it was the question I was hoping to find the answer to as I walked into the SIU.

"Eh? Akechi-kun? What are you doing here?"

The first words I'd heard shortly after stepping through the front door made my lips upturn just a bit. Okay, maybe a lot. Sae Niijima was one of the few people in this world that I could call my friend. I'd known her ever since my benefactor had placed me in the same apartment building as her and her little sister, Makoto.

Sae was someone I'd always looked up to; never had I met a woman so determined. In spite of the field's male dominance, she'd managed to come out at the top of her class in law school and worked her way up to public prosecutor. Watching her struggle through her career path, and giving her encouragement when needed of course, taught me some of the most valuable lessons I've learned. I had no idea she'd become a part of SIU, but I was certainly glad to have her here.

"I'm on the case, Sae-san," I replied to her with a grin.

I should have figured her reaction would be worry and skepticism. I couldn't exactly blame her for thinking of me as a child, as that's exactly what I was.

They put you on a murder case?" she asked me, skin paling ever so slightly.

"Alleged."

"You can't tell me you don't think this is a murder case. I know you well enough to know that."

Her suspicions were correct of course. We'd been around each other long enough for her to read me like an open book, though not quite vice versa. At the time, I was annoyed at her lack of trust in me, though I knew she was only worried . Tracking down serial killers is probably a job for people older than myself, though, in my mind, I had a title to live up to.

"Look, I doubt I'll be alone on this one," I'd told her, attempting to placate her somehow. "And even if worst comes to worst, I can take care of myself. I know how to use a gun and I know some Jujutsu."

She was a step away from massaging her temples; I could see it in her body language. "Just, be careful, alright? And call for backup if you're confronting the culprit. I don't want to see you hurt."

"I will," I said, giving her a soft smile. "I appreciate your concern for me, Sae-san"

Letting out a long sigh, she turned back to her work and waved me toward the director's office. Knowing her, that was about as far as I was going to get in convincing her that I was ready. Not being taken seriously was frustrating, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't change people's hearts. I didn't say another word to her before following the direction she'd wearily indicated.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the office was the smell of smoke in the air. That would be coming from the man leaning against the wall behind the director himself. He was tall and lean, or at least from what he could tell under his trench coat and dress shirt and pants, which made him look like a really 'classic' detective. His most distinguishing features, however, would be his platinum hair and grey eyes, both uncommon among the public. He looked to be in his late 20s / early 30s.

The man let out another puff of smoke as his eyes turned towards me. I knew he was observing me, evaluating me, seeing if I was worthy of being here. My gaze met his and for several moments we remained locked in an intense mutual competition. Before we were interrupted, I saw something in those eyes that was just… off. An almost inhuman quality lie within him, just beneath his hardened exterior. All at once, I was frightened and intrigued; I felt like I had to look away, but at the same time he was a mystery that I needed to solve.

"Ah, Akechi-kun. You've arrived right on time," the director coughed, interrupting our staring contest. Not much to say about the man himself. His giant, bald head was the only thing about him that wasn't forgettable. I don't even remember his name; perhaps he didn't have one to begin with.

"As you've already been informed, I have no doubt, you'll be taking over the Phantom Thieves investigation," The director recited with an odd smirk on his face. "You'll find the case files and Detective Shirogane's notes on your desk just outside. Unfortunately, she couldn't be here to hand off the case in person, but I'm sure you could contact her easily if you need any insight."

"If you don't mind my asking, what case was urgent enough to pull her off of this one?" I asked, voicing the question that had been on my mind all morning. The sudden transfer had struck me as odd as usually there was an advanced warning on things like this. Unless there was a serious emergency, I should have known about this weeks ago.

"Nao-chan's dealing with the break in at Amaya Software," the silver-haired man answered in his place. He spoke in a low voice that betrayed no emotion and exacerbated that unsettling feeling I had about him. Though, his chosen honorific did make me raise an eyebrow.

"That's the government contractor that's distributing the anti-Y2k program, right?

"That's right, and considering any illegal tampering with the code could cause thousands of errors across the country by the time the new millenium rolls around, I hope you understand how big the problem she's dealing with."

Even with that answer, I wasn't satisfied. The end of the year was still months away and while there was no time to lose, there was enough time for her to hand the case over. Something didn't add up, but perhaps I was overthinking things, I'd thought at the time. It could have been that Shirogane was just a busybody, and so I didn't question it.

"Ah, that's right. The two of you still haven't been introduced," noted the director, raising a hand to indicate his guest. "This is Detective Narukami. He was Shirogane's partner on this case and has kindly chosen to remain behind in her stead. The two of you will be working together here and in the field, so I'd suggest you familiarize yourselves with how each other operates."

"Pleased to be working with you, Narukami-san," I said politely.

He only gave me a sharp nod in response, but it strangely didn't feel as if he was looking down on me as I would have expected. Maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, but I didn't get the sense that he thought I'd be useless like many of the other people I'd worked with.

"Right then, your first priority is to ascertain the legitimacy of the crime. If it is murder and not a natural death, we need to establish the method," the bald-headed man continued. "Currently we have no conclusive evidence. I'm entrusting the two of you with the task of finding it."

He gestured at Narukami once more. "Narukami-kun has experience in dealing with supernatural crimes. I suggest you consult him whenever you find unusual or inconclusive evidence. Now, get to work!"

I didn't even have time to question what he meant by that before he waved us out of the office. Narukami was already on his way out after disposing of his cigarette in the man's ashtray, and I didn't want to seem foolish by hanging behind so I gave a quick bow and left after him. Not a moment after the door clicked shut did the man eye me up and down, giving me a disgruntled look.

"That your school uniform?"

I looked down. He must have been referring to my double-breasted jacket and black pants which were a standard at my university. The school badge was a dead giveaway even if there weren't any words on it. It was an odd question to ask, particularly since we'd just got out of a discussion about the case and here he was asking me something that had absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. I'd already had several oddities swirling in my head that day, however, and my brain responded automatically.

"Yes."

The platinum-haired man gave a simple nod in response. "Go get Nao-chan's notes and let's go. I'll pull the car around."

Once again, I left standing there without any idea what was happening and no choice but to follow his lead. One quick trip to my desk and a short goodbye to Sae-san left me in his passenger seat heading to God knows where. He didn't say a word to me, just driving forward with a neutral expression. I didn't know how to broach a conversation with him either. Probably make a fool out of myself if I tried. So, I just sat there like a lump, hoping we were going to do something related to the investigation wherever we were going.

I thumbed through Shirogane's notes as I waited. If there was one thing I could say, the woman was quite thorough about her work. Names, locations, full interviews, theories about the murder method, potential suspects and accomplices, etc. It was all there along with detailed notes and instructions on what to do next and which leads were worth following. Unfortunately, it still didn't give me much more of an idea of what happened than I already knew.

Kitagawa Yusuke was still the most likely suspect for Madarame's murder but there was no conclusive evidence tying him to it. The woman who had painted The Sayuri turned out to be Kitagawa Kazuko, his mother, and it would make sense for him to murder the man who stole her final work in an act of revenge. However, the kid didn't own a personal computer and Madarame's was apparently off-limits according to the interview with him and there was also the fact that none of his DNA or fingerprints were found on or near it. Not only that, but Kitagawa himself attended Kosei High rather than Shujin and we still didn't know whether or not he associated with any Shujin students. Of course, that's if it was murder at all.

Shirogane had listed our next objective as to investigate Kamoshida and Shujin. If they could connect the two incidents in some way, that could bring us one step further to proving that the men were actually murdered.

"Hey, we're here," Narukami interrupted my thoughts. "Come on."

He'd parked us in an underground lot somewhere in downtown Shibuya and got out, motioning for me to come with him. Up the stairs and we were back out on the city streets. It was about noon time, so there were people wandering around everywhere, causing my disposition to take a considerable dip. Never been a fan of crowds, you see. Thankfully, the rain had subsided, but a thick overcast still stretch across the sky, casting a melancholy light over the city streets and the people that walk upon them.

We walked for a good 20 minutes, only making a short detour in a small, park-like area where a band was performing a cover of some foreign hit from years ago. It was in partially broken English, but I recognized most of the words.

~"I used to trust the media to tell me the truth, tell us the truth! But now, I've seen the payoffs everywhere I look! Who do you trust when everyone's a crook?!"~

"Hmm. Didn't know anyone still remembered that album," the platinum-haired man muttered, tossing a few coins into their open guitar case. I thought we were going to ask for their performance permits or something. Apparently Narukami just didn't care since he kept on walking.

Our destination was apparently just across the street. Tatsumi Dress & Tailors was the name.

*chime*

"Welco- Oh, hey Senpai. Haven't seen you in a while."

The owner of the place was a burly-looking man with short, dark hair somewhat messily hanging over his forehead. He was dressed in a plain white button up with the long sleeves rolled up, showing off his tattooed forearms. The rest was hidden beneath the counter, but I could ascertain that it was probably dress pants of some variety.

Upon seeing him, I discovered Narukami was actually capable of grinning.

"Sorry Kanji, I've been busy with work lately," he said, leaning an elbow on the counter. "And how many times do I have to tell you? You don't have to call me Senpai. We're not in high school anymore."

If he was the owner of this shop, then he would be Tatsumi Kanji. I thought I'd heard the name before, but I couldn't remember where."

"Hey, I said it before. I've just gotten too used to it to stop now," the newly-dubbed Tatsumi replied, chuckling.

The platinum-haired man, sighed. "So, how's your mom doing?"

"Honestly, she's starting to get up there in the years, but every time I ask she tells me not to come home and take care of her."

"Yeah, that sounds like her."

"You're tellin' me. I'm the one who gets nagged at for worrying about her."

Still completely lost in what the point of this was, I took the opportunity to look around the shop. There were various forms of apparel on display for both men and women, and the majority of them appeared to be of custom make, at least judging by the lack of recognizable labels. It was mainly dressy clothes, but there was also some casual wear strewn about here and there. There were also what seemed to be hand-crafted dolls and stuffed animals on shelves around the side of the store. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"How's Nanako lately?"

My brain caught their conversation taking a downturn, turning my attention back to them.

"She's fine." Narukami said after a long moment of silence, his smile evaporating as a look of sorrow crossed his face. "She hasn't lapsed in just over a year and that one was pretty short. I think she's moved on completely by now."

The larger man, clasped his shoulder, comfortingly. Neither said a word, as they seemed to understand each other through touch and facial expression. It was a concept that was frankly foreign to me since I couldn't help but hold people at such a distance. Watching the two of them didn't depress me, but it did make me feel empty and incomplete, something far more familiar. Though it was no longer so inviting.

"Alright, now what did you actually come here for? Don't think I didn't notice pancake boy over there."

No comment on that one.

"Oh, him?" the platinum-haired man questioned, finally acknowledging my existence. "He's Akechi Goro-kun. The next detective prince, so they say."

"Ah, so he's Naoto's successor. I think I've heard about him on TV," Tatsumi stated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, and he needs a coat. Maybe a shirt and pants too," Narukami continued, his look returning to its natural vexed state.

It took me a moment before it dawned on me, after which I had to slap my forehead.

"Wait... " I murmured out, disbelief evident in my tone of voice. "So, you dragged me out here on work hours so you could chat with an old friend and get me a coat? Instead of actually doing our job?"

The two men just both looked at me, then each other, and shared a quick laugh. I could feel a migraine coming on and I don't even get those, really. That is, until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Relax there, Bloodhound," Narukami said to me with a smirk. "You want to get as many hours as you reasonably can out of a case like this. Kamoshida's apartment is just a few blocks ahead. We'll head there afterward."

I was about to throw a retort at him; something stupidly idealistic about upholding justice or whatever. But he looked at me with those eyes, those strange, alien eyes, and I bit it back.

"You have school costs to deal with, not to mention the fact that you live alone and are living off this salary and whatever your benefactor gives you," he laid it all out, suddenly making me feel very naked. "Even if I hadn't looked up your file, I'd be able to tell. That's a university jacket you're wearing, for one thing, and your posture gives you away. You're stock still and tense all the time which is exactly how you stand when you're not used to dealing with people outside of work."

I'd just noticed how hot my cheeks and ears were burning . He'd seen right through me effortlessly, and it hadn't even been anything I'd said. Not a slip of the tongue nor a personal note accidentally left behind, but just my way of interacting with people. Was I really so bad at hiding it?

"I've been doing this job for over ten years, kid. You pick up on these things."

He looked back over at Tatsumi

"Could you take care of him? I'm going out for a smoke."

"You know Chie-senpai's going to get on your case about that, right?"

A roll of the eyes later and he was out the door while I was being led into a back room to be measured.

"Geez, you're slim," The muscular man said to me as he was wrapping measuring tape around my midsection. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you haven't been eatin' three times a day."

"Please don't start," I groaned out. "I get enough of that from my neighbors."

"Yeah, well maybe you should listen to 'em," he told me, lightly hitting me on the back of the shoulders.

I waited till he was on the opposite side of the room with his back turned, rifling through his selection to find an example piece, before I asked the question that had been plaguing my mind now. I'd suspected it from Narukami, but there wasn't enough of a connection. Something they'd said earlier had confirmed it, though.

"Listen. What can you tell me about the Inaba case?"

I noticed him freeze and his shoulders tense almost immediately. His head tilted down, as if in thought.

"What makes you think I know anything about that?"

"You and Narukami went to high school together and you're both familiar with Naoto Shirogane. The way you both address her indicates a long-term familiarity. Assuming that you all went to high school together then that school would be Yasogami, the one in Inaba. Right around the time of the murders..."

Tatsumi turned around and stared at me with a stony expression. I could see something in his eyes that reminded me far too much of the 'otherness' that existed in Narukami's look.

"You keep that mouth shut about that case, understand me?" he demanded from me in a low, threatening voice. "Don't ask me, and especially don't ask Yu-senpai. Just leave the whole thing alone."

"Yu?"

"You know, your partner?"

"Oh, you mean Narukami?" I questioned, confused. "Why not?"

His eyes dropped to the floor as his fists clenched. "A lot of shit went down that we'd like to forget. He got it the worst out of all of us, so don't bring it up."

He told me to stay quiet, but my curiosity about the case only grew after that. What could they possibly be hiding that could have such traumatic implications for Narukami? What were the heavily rumored mysterious circumstances surrounding the case which weren't mentioned in the official file? I wanted to know, but you know what they say: curiosity killed the cat. And I wasn't ready to die yet, so I did as I was told.

"So, what color are you looking for?"

"Tan or light gray would be nice."

We continued on as if the conversation had never happened at all. Narukami was back by the time we were out and agreed to pay all expenses. It'd be about two or three weeks before the coats were ready. Tatsumi gave me his card and told me to come back around if I ever needed his services again in the future. I took it as a good sign that I hadn't soiled my relationship with the man completely as I left his shop.

True to his word, Narukami lead me to Kamoshida's apartment just a few blocks down. The property was on sale again, but the owner agreed to let us take another look around. That was another thing that puzzled me with regards to why we were here. All the evidence had been bagged and the man's possessions had been cleared out and returned to his family. What was the point of investigating the place after it was no longer a crime scene?

I voiced my thoughts to the man beside me as we ascended the stairs.

"Trust me. You'll see." It was the platinum-haired man's only answer as he retrieved a pair of black-rimmed glasses from his pocket and placed them on his brow.

I was slightly frustrated, but he looked serious now, so I didn't bother questioning him further. As we entered the place, I knew he wasn't looking for evidence. He went straight to the living room without looking for anything else, and when I followed him, his vision was trained on one thing.

The television had been included with the apartment. Each unit had one, so it hadn't been removed from the apartment like everything else. Why it was important, I couldn't guess.

"Here, take my hand," Narukami instructed, offering one to me.

"Why?"

Suddenly I was wary of what exactly I was getting myself into. This situation made absolutely no sense. We were inside a dead man's apartment well after any investigation was possible and now Narukami was asking me to take his hand for something having to do with television. I might have thought he was someone hired to kill me if there weren't already many better and less-incriminating ways he could have done it earlier.

His eyes rolled again. "Just come on."

Before I could voice any kind of protest, he grabbed my wrist and… we entered the TV.

We stepped through the screen just as easily as if we'd walked through a small waterfall. It took my brain a long time to recognize what was happening as we flew down some kind of glowing white tunnel of screens. I might have screamed or shouted, but I can scarcely remember and if I did, Narukami certainly didn't react to it.

Wherever we were going, he landed on his feet with practiced ease while I fell on my ass. My eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out where we were.

The room wasn't any bigger than the living room we just left nor did it look any different in terms of physical space, but everything else felt wrong. Everything was drenched in a deep shade of blue which seemed to come from no natural source, but drifted in the air, painting everything in the same light. Shadows moved unnaturally so as to make the walls and ceiling look like an endless expanse of color which extended far beyond the simple confines of the room.

However, what really caught my attention was the four shadowy figures that lay frozen in the center of the room. One looked exactly like an outline Kamoshida himself, kneeling on the ground, glowing yellow eyes staring up in horror at two of the other figures as they were stabbing him through the heart while the other one watched. They didn't have any defining features, but they were all wearing masks. The two holding the knife had the visage of a skull and of a jungle cat, and the other's was a simple, white masquerade mask.

"W-What is all this?"

From the moment he answered me, the case truly began.

"Welcome to the real scene of the crime, Akechi-kun."

A/N: This came to me while listening to the soundtrack for the untranslated visual novel, No Reality, and from brainstorming ideas for my other Persona 5 fic.