Hello everyone! I'm Sheriff King and my current project is Persona 4: Manifest Destiny. However, a friend of mine and I put together this story while discussing Persona 5 over coffee and we agreed that Sae and Akechi's side of the investigation was criminally under-explored during the game itself. Therefore, we decided to throw together a little something that might shed some light on our interpretation of how it might have gone, along with adding a character of our own design in the mix for flavor. That being said, please enjoy!
Prologue: Starved Still
The two men hurried outside into the pitter-patter of the rain droplets striking Shibuya streets.
"So the warrant came through?" The lean, brown-haired man asked his companion.
His voice was a deep throaty one and was not accustomed to the Japanese language. In this, his non-native tongue, his New England accent still shone through.
His companion nodded. Though his hair was thoroughly gray, he was only middle-aged. The reflectors on his Tokyo Metropolitan Police uniform jacket flashing every time a car passed by them.
"I saw this coming, you know. After Shinjuku was purged of organized crime, the largest power vacuum on the island since the times of shoguns was created. It was only a matter of time until its hunger would be sated," he replied grimly.
"With your efforts, it will be starved still."
The policeman turned to face his cohort and smiled, "OUR efforts, John-kun. Had I not seen the method to your medical madness myself, I would swear you brought cadavers back to life and lent an ear to their story."
The American tried to suppress it, but a smirk forced its way onto his lips, "Let's hold off on the circle jerk until after we bring this bastard in, all right?"
The officer laughed and the two trotted to the police vehicle parked at the curb just outside. The officer jumped right in, but by chance, the American stopped and looked over his shoulder when he reached the passenger door. He's not sure why he did it. Perhaps it was his inclination to allow himself a quick study of the evening streets. Perhaps it was a reflex precipitated by a moment of favor from divine intervention. Whatever it was, the fleeting glance brought a solitary figure into his view. Standing beside an alleyway entrance, stood a rotund man clad in a dripping wet trench coat and a large fedora pulled down over his head. The American squinted to get a better look.
No, it can't be, he thought.
He stepped away from the car and began walking slowly toward the figure.
"Kaneshiro...?" he muttered, his breath turning to smoke before him with each syllable.
The figure ducked into the alleyway and the American stopped in his tracks.
Something's not right about this...
He heard a click behind him. He turned and saw in the headlights of a passing car, his police officer companion stick his keys into the ignition.
Wait...that click...
The American's eyes widened and by simple reflex he threw his hand out, "Nijima, no!"
It seemed to happen so slowly.
Cacophony of tearing metal.
A wave of heat.
Ears ringing.
Sound of flesh striking the pavement.
The taste of copper.
Smell of smoke.
...
The pitter-patter of raindrops.