(A/N: Hi there! Here is my contribution to the Persona 4 fandom. It's gonna be a long one :)

Just as a quick note: the original Persona 4 game is what has been used as the primary source for the story. The rest of the media (Persona 4: Golden, Persona 4: Animated, and all other Persona 4 content and games) is occasionally used for reference. I hope you enjoy the story!)

Chapter 1

12th May 2011

His fist connected with the asshole's smug, sneering face, splitting his lips as his knuckles struck the other guy's teeth. He went down like a sack of shit. The jeering crowd suddenly went quiet.

"You wanna piece of me?" Kanji turned to face the rest of the biker gang, his chest heaving, his hand bloody and sweat beading on his forehead. They looked a lot less confident now that their leader was on the floor bleeding profusely, likely missing a few teeth, holding his hand to his mouth and whimpering. A few of them revved their engines, bikes snarling, but were unsure of what to do. They hadn't anticipated him to fight them; this was Inaba, not Tokyo, hardly a place where they expected much resistance.

Kanji was illuminated by the six headlamps from the rough semi-circle they had formed around him. After a moments hesitation, two of them walked towards him; they were silhouetted as they advanced, casting long shadows into the night. They were near the rice paddies just behind the residential area of Inaba; Kanji could basically see his house from here.

"You little shit. Who the fuck do you think you are?" one of the bikers demanded, his voice gruff and low. He was in his mid-twenties, dressed in biker leathers, all studs and chains. His jacket was slung over his shoulders, the gang's symbol and name embroidered on the back. He flicked a knife out of his pocket and held it in front of him, pointing with the blade. Kanji drew himself up to his full height.

"I'm Kanji Tatsumi, and don't you punks forget it!" Most of them were local; he was surprised they hadn't heard of him.

"Yeah? Well, you're fucking dead!" The knife wielder lunged forwards, slashing wildly in huge arcs, his face contorted into a grimace. Kanji dodged backwards, leaning out of the way to avoid the initial slash, his jacket billowing behind him, before striking the back of the guys head with his elbow in a counter bastard let out a cry of surprise and dropped the knife; a careful kick to the handle sent it skidding into the shadows. Kanji used his momentum to swing round and land a right hook on the other guy, who had thought he would try to sneak around the side. Kanji landed a well-placed kick into his side as he fell, knocking the air from his lungs.

The remaining three bikers came to the aid of their friends, approaching in a slow, aggressive swagger, before rushing in a mass of fists and boots; punching, grabbing, kicking wildly in the pitch black night and bright beams of headlights.

Kanji dodged what he could, using his height and long limbs to his advantage. He rolled with the punches. For every hit he took, hit twice as hard. Their numbers put them at a disadvantage; they couldn't hit him as well as he could hit them for fear of striking their own. These shitheads don't know how to fight. Don't know how to fight dirty.Kanji grabbed one of them by the scruff of his neck, pulling the collar of his biker jacket tight. The guy's eyes bulged as he choked. Kanji threw him forward into his friends. He kicked one of the fallen; punched another hard in the stomach.

The fight hadn't lasted long but he had got good and bloody; he'd taken at least one punch to the cheek, a few blows to the stomach and his nose was bleeding. It was five against one, after all. The injuries he sustained were relatively minor compared to the mess of the rest of the guys. Missing teeth, black eyes, a broken arm from where someone stood heavily on an awkwardly bent limb of some unfortunate punk who had been knocked to the ground.

"Mess with me, and this is what you get!" His triumph was short lived. Red and blue lights flashed over the crest of the road, and sirens blared.

Ah, shit. The cops.

The lights spurred the bikers into action. There was a hasty scuffle and the gang retreated; those not too injured going in for a last swing or kick if they could. They mounted their bikes, revving the engines obnoxiously before tearing into the night, threatening, cursing, and speeding away along the deserted roads of rural Inaba. Kanji watched them go, a joyless grin on his face.

"Yeah you had better run! And don't come back!" How long have I been beatin' the shit out of biker gangs now? Fuck, it's gotta be at least two years. You think the bastards would learn.

The sirens were getting louder, the red and blue lights quickly approaching. Kanji wiped the blood from under his nose and tenderly felt the puffy skin under his eye. It hurt like a bitch. He was going to have a black eye in the morning. A car pulled up in the gravel behind him, the siren cutting out mid wail but the lights continuing to light up the area.

"Kanji Tatsumi!" He turned to face the two cops getting out of the car; Kida-san and Satou-san by the looks of it. He knew both of them in passing; shit, he probably knew every cop in town he had spent so much time in and out of the local station. They looked pissed. Well, I ain't scared of 'em!

"Yeah? Whadda ya want?" he balled his hands into fists. He was sick of this shit; he'd fight them if he had to. The fight had got his blood pumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"We should have known you'd have been behind the disturbance," the younger cop, Satou, sneered, baton in hand and cuffs at the ready. He looked like he had been dragged out of bed and was not happy about it.

"No shit. I'm just doin your freakin' jobs." Come here and say that. I'll beat the shit outta ya!

Satou opened his mouth to snap something back, his face like thunder, but the other cop, Kida-san, held up his hand to silence his partner. He didn't look angry, just tired and annoyed.

"Kanji-san, come with us please." He gestured towards the police car.

"The hell I am! I didn't do nothin' wrong!" This always freakin' happened!

"Get in the car Tastumi! Or we'll make you." Kanji looked from cop to cop and thought about his options, one… many of which included hitting that arrogant prick, Satou.

"Kanji-san, please. Your mother will collect you from the station." Kida-san rubbed his temples.

Oh fuck it all, they were gonna include his Ma in all this. She didn't need this crap.

He sighed and walked towards them, muttering curses under his breath.

An hour later Kanji was sat in Interview Room 2, slumped forward in an uncomfortable chair, not making eye contact with anyone and not paying attention.

He'd been here before. It was the same every time. It usually consisted of getting his ear chewed off by various cops (assholes like Satou always having a lot to say); threats of a criminal record, antisocial orders, grievous bodily harm verdicts- this time was no different. It was nothin' he hadn't heard before, except the words "final warning" were used this time.

He stared at the end of the table. No point looking anywhere else. He especially didn't want to give Satou an excuse to start all over again with his threats.

They just don't get it.

It wasn't as if he hadn't tried before. He had been, what, thirteen? a kid anyways, the first time he had fought with bikers. They had been teenagers that time, seniors in high school pretending to be tough and angling for a fight. He had spent a lot longer trying to reason with the police after he had been hauled in for given them a beating they wouldn't forget. He remembered fighting back tears through a black eye and split lip, explaining that he was just trying to make them be quiet because the sound was upsetting his Ma, keepin' her awake at night. He was just protecting her. That's what guys do, right? That's what the boys said at school; they fight and protect people and don't do any gay shit like sewing and-

They don't freakin' listen.

"You are far too violent! If you keep this up you will end up in prison- are you even listening to me, Tatsumi?"

He grunted. No, not at all. Shut up.

Satou sighed. "Goddam it, look, kid - this is your future on the line here. Don't you care?"

He grunted again. Of course he cared. Just- it was something he had to do.

The door opened and his mother was ushered in. Despite the late hour she was dressed in a kimono, her iron-grey hair pulled tight into a neat bun. Despite being flanked by scowling cops, she looked relieved, rather than angry, to see him. Ah, shit. He'd worried her again.

"Oh Kanji-chan, I was ever so worried-"She walked briskly towards him and laid a hand on his hunched shoulder. He shook her off, standing up quickly, drawing up to his full height.

"Let's just go" He was sick of this place. Satou looked ready to argue that he couldn't go yet, because he is a prick like that, but eventually just nodded. He probably wanted to go back home to bed.

"Kanji-" Shut up, Ma, not now.

"I said let's go!"

13th May 2011

Kanji hadn't expected the media to be interested in the bikers yet they were swarming over the story like parasites. It wasn't as though Inaba hadn't seen their type before; he was testament enough to that, what with the number of punks he had beaten up since his early teens. The town was visited by the various biker gangs mainly because it was such a small place. Easy to start up without much resistance- or influence- from local Yakuza, before moving onto bigger places like Okina City, or for the really brave and stupid, Tokyo.

The local tv crews were out in force in the shopping district, interviewing anyone they could, pestering them with questions about what they had seen, who they knew who was in a gang, how the gangs had impacted them and their businesses, harassing any customer who passed. Must be a real slow freakin' news day. If they talk to Ma I'm gonna beat the shit out of them.

He was ambushed by a camera early afternoon crew whilst he was out, minding his own business, and doggedly avoiding going to school. Who cares if he had got into high school? It sure a hell didn't matter to him. He'd only showed up for that first day because his Ma had asked him too. And he wanted to wear the uniform. It had been a waste of time, and he hadn't been back since.

"Hey! You're the kid who's leader of the biker gang!" The local tv crew swarmed around him, sticking a camera and a boom mic in his face.

"Why are you trying to take over Inaba?"

"Is it true you quit school to be in the gang?" The lead reporter was particularly irritating, with one of those faces Kanji just wanted to punch. The photographer too - that camera flash was giving him a headache.

"The hell are you punks doing here? This ain't a show! Get bent!" He was going to hit someone if they didn't leave him alone, starting with that prick with the mic. He shoved the nearest guy out of the way and stalked off down the street. It didn't deter them. A few of the braver guys followed a little way behind.

"Is it true you threatened the families of the bikers who challenged you?"

"Why did you break that guy's arm? Was it because he wanted to take over leadership?"

Kanji growled and spun around to face them, ready to strike someone. They took the hint, stopping suddenly when they saw the look on his face. They swiftly moved onto their next target; an unsuspecting housewife returning home with her groceries. Kanji sneered when he saw her face light up at the attention and launch into a long explanation of how scared she was, how Inaba was no longer safe. He noticed she was pointedly looking at him the entire time.

They got it all wrong. The TV crew, people like that woman - he wasn't a biker; he was the one stopping them. Even the cops got that bit right even though they didn't do a fucking thing to help. This was exactly why Kanji hated TV; everything was so damn false. Nothin' but trashy shows takin' the piss outta everything, or news reports about affairs and stupid shit no one cared about until it was on TV.

They had better not air any of that. They'd be hell to pay.