Disclaimer: Persona 3 and all related material are properties of Atlus and Index Corporation. I do not in any way own the characters or story.
Author's Note: Thought I'd better update the A/N here since the old one didn't really give much of an introduction. So hello and welcome good reader to Journey to the Answer. As you've read on the summary, or blurb, this fic is a Persona 3 novelization. I'll be taking all the important parts of the story from the games and the movies, and basically remixing the scenes with some original sequences and dialogue.
The focus will be on the main cast, so the characters who represent Minato's Social Links other than the four girls of SEES will appear as cameos at most. My approach is to explore Minato's relationship with each member of SEES as much as possible and have them represent his Social Links.
As for the shipping, because I'm sure that's what you're here for, it will be between Minato and Mitsuru. Since I'm going to make this story realistic, their relationship will be one that continuously grows and have its share of ups and downs. So don't expect any fast confessions.
Updates will be fortnightly and I will try my best to keep to this schedule. If I'm late updating, it means either the chapter I'm working on is not cooperating, or I'm busy with life.
So that's all I wanted to say with regards to the fic. If you're liking it, feel free to review, comment, follow, favorite (yes that includes your bookmarks bar) or even PM if you have a question. If you feel it's not your thing, then thanks for the taking the time to have a look.
Either way, I hope you enjoy the show.
The voice of the train's PA system was drowned out by the continuous clashing of drums that resonated in his headphones. Re-positioning his shoulder bag, he disembarked the train and made his way to the station's upper floor. The glow of a very pale moon greeted him, its rays cascading through the glass ceiling as he walked through the station. Even though the hour was late, there were still many locals hanging around. A couple of them stared at him as he passed by, probably at his unnatural cobalt blue hair and cool grey eyes, but he paid them no heed and focused on the beats that continued to rage in his ears.
Then the beats stopped.
And he stopped in his tracks as there was a flicker, and then a flash, like that of a faulty light globe, that plunged the entire station into darkness. The moon's pure white glow shifted to an eerie shade of dark green. He waited for his eyes to adjust before moving again, confused as to how a blackout could affect his MP3 player and annoyed that he had nothing to listen to. He silently cursed those new batteries (who could trust those damn bunnies?) and made his way to the station's exit.
The streets of Iwatodai were much quieter than he had expected. He reached into his blazer pocket and unfolded a document, inhaling the cold stagnant air that almost made him gag. He could see wisps of his breath as he followed the path he had scribbled onto the document's tiny map depicting Iwatodai, and tried not to notice the upright black coffins that reflected the moon's sickly glow, and the random puddles of blood that replaced what should have been puddles of water.
He stopped again as a blue butterfly fluttered in front of him, the slivers of evanescent lights on its wings shimmering in the dark. The butterfly twirled and circled before heading off down the street. He glanced at his map and realized that it was the same street he needed to pass through. He frowned at the coincidence, then shrugged. The night was already so strange. A little coincidence could not make the situation any stranger.
Upon reaching where he had marked his destination, he folded the form and placed it back into his blazer pocket, shooting a glance at the building that towered in front of him. He found it odd how such a building could be a student's dormitory and seeing it in person only reconfirmed the fact that it was property of the Kirijo Group. He ascended the few steps leading to the double doors and pushed the handle.
Compared to the dorm's exterior, the lobby was rather ordinary. An old antenna television faced the sofas arranged around an unremarkable coffee table a few meters in front of him, and behind that was an antique dining table. At the far end, he could make out a staircase that spiraled to the individual rooms above. Setting his shoulder bag down, he removed the clip-on headphones and let it hang around his neck.
"You're late," spoke a weird voice.
He froze.
That voice. It was familiar. But from where had he heard it? And when?
"I've been waiting a long time for you," the voice continued.
He looked to his left to see a pale young boy in black-and-white striped pajamas sitting atop the reception's chair, staring at him with large blue eyes. The young boy snapped his fingers and a red notebook, along with a quill, appeared on the desk.
"Now if you want to proceed, please sign your name there. It's a contract. Don't worry. All it says is that you'll accept full responsibility for your actions. You know, the usual stuff," the boy said, gesturing at the notebook.
He felt a pulling sensation, drawing him towards the notebook. Although he did not know who this boy was nor his intentions, he couldn't help but feel that he had experienced this before. His questions regarding the contract were waved off and the boy repeated his instructions in the same weird voice that should have sent shivers down his spine.
Fed up with trying to pry out any more information, he picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink, and swiftly signed his name onto the notebook which had opened up on its own. The young boy then collected the notebook and closed it.
"No one can escape time," the boy said. "It delivers us all to the same end. You can't plug your ears and cover your eyes."
The room's green glow faded to darkness and he watched as it engulfed the young boy.
"And so it begins," the boy said, before merging with the shadows.
He stood there, trying to process what just transpired. He had definitely seen that boy before. But any attempts at conjuring that particular memory of them meeting, or talking, sealed themselves away.
His concentration was broken as a strangled gasp shattered the silence and he froze again at the sound of a female voice.
"Who's there?" she called.
He slowly looked towards the direction of the voice and saw a slender young brunette eyeing him. His eyes moved towards her trembling arm, which had crept towards the handgun that was holstered and strapped to her right thigh.
A handgun he thought. What is a high school girl doing with a handgun?
The intensity of her stare made him feel as if he had just murdered someone. He took a hesitant step forward and raised his hands to show he was not armed.
Her heavy breathing continued but finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. "D...Don't..."
He opened his mouth to speak but at that moment, she seized her gun and aimed.
Then, another voice pierced the silence.
"Takeba, wait!"
The brunette flinched and for a moment, he thought she had already pulled the trigger, and was waiting for the inevitable punch of the bullet.
It never came.
He opened his eyes to see the brunette holstering her gun and winced as the lights snapped back on. He sighed with relief, feeling his heart rate slow down to the norm. Once his vision adjusted to the brightness, he found himself looking into the curious eyes of the two ladies who stood before him.
The brunette was about a head shorter than he was, wearing a school uniform of a white blouse underneath a pink cardigan, a black miniskirt and knee high stockings. She was cute and looked to be the type of students that girls wanted to be and boys wanted to be with.
But it was the other girl that attracted his attention. There was something about her, something he couldn't quite place, that made her distinguishable from every other girl he had seen. Maybe it was her smooth, pale complexion that suited her uniform of a white blouse and a black loose skirt. Or her long dark red hair that complimented the red ribbon, tied in a bow, on her collar. Or those heeled leather boots that made her lissome figure as tall as he was. He held her gaze and found himself mesmerized by her eyes. Though ruby red, they shone with a level of serenity uncommon for a person her age.
"I apologize for that," the redhead said. "We didn't think you'd arrive at this time of hour." She gestured to the brunette. "Takeba here just moved in not too long ago so she hasn't fully acclimatized yet. With the way things have been recently, dorm security is taken very seriously."
"I see," he replied. He swallowed hard, still shaken he was held at gunpoint. "It is really so serious that firearms have to be placed in the hands of students?"
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions. But this isn't the time or place to discuss such things. Why don't you come in and make yourself comfortable?" She then shot a look at the brunette.
He could have sworn the brunette muttered something under her breath but ignored it as she hesitantly approached him.
"Welcome to the Iwatodai Dormitory," she said, bowing a little. "You must be Arisato Minato."
He nodded, bowing in return. "And you two are?"
"Kirijo Mitsuru," the redhead said. Indicating at the brunette, Mitsuru continued, "And this is Takeba Yukari. She'll be a junior this spring just like you."
"It's a pleasure," Minato said. Kirijo? That name rings a bell. I wonder... "By the way, does anyone under our age live here?"
Mitsuru and Yukari exchanged glances.
"No one under the age of sixteen lives here, Mitsuru replied. "And none of the residents have siblings. Why do you ask?"
"No reason, just curious is all," Minato said, though his mind screamed otherwise.
Where had that boy gone off to?
"Well, if you don't have any more questions, please follow me. I'll show you to your room and briefly cover some details you need to know," Mitsuru said, turning on her heel.
Bidding goodnight to Yukari, he followed Mitsuru up the stairs.
Minato was no stranger to transfers. So many times he had been moved from one location to another that it almost became a routine for him. But if there was one that he would never forget, it would be tonight. The pools of blood, the green haze that was not pollution, and the upright coffins. Not to mention that butterfly and a student with a handgun. Something was not right. Iwatodai was not how he had remembered it to be. And the more he thought about it, the more his mind was flooded by a torrent of unanswered questions.