Akira nodded quietly as Morgana chattered to him in his ear as he walked down the busy streets of Shibuya. The naturally noisy and brightly colored streets were filled with shoppers, advertisers, and tourists. Trying not to bump into anyone, he made his way to Central Street, crossing the large intersection toward 109.
Even though there were so many different people and different colorful lights flashing all around him, everything felt gray.
Nothing felt right anymore, if they ever did.
The colors felt muted, the people more akin to walking mannequins. His every movement was mechanical as if he wasn't human.
"It's getting late, shouldn't we get back to the cafe?" Morgana asked quietly, tail waving in the air from within his bag. The feline had decided to live with him and forced him to carry him everywhere he went. Perhaps he would've protested at this before, but now he just accepted it. What was the point of arguing? He was a much needed ally within the Metaverse and had contributed greatly to their fight against Kamoshida.
The gym teacher's Shadow had stood no chance against his Eligor. He had accepted another new Persona into his...his...himself.
Akira clenched his jaw. What was he? A normal person like Ann, Ryuji, and even Morgana could only have one Persona, and yet he could have more than one. He could have six. Maybe even more. "Hey, Morgana..."
The feline's ears twitched at the sound of its name. "Yeah?"
"Can you..." He paused awkwardly, trying to find a way to word this without being weird or invasive. "Zorro is a part of you, right? Do you feel...complete?"
Morgana blinked. "Of course. Zorro is a part of my heart, therefore he's me. If he ceased to exist, then that would mean I would be dead." It lectured. "Just like how you have Arsene, Lady Ann has Carmen, and dumb Ryuji has Captain Kidd. Personas are us."
Akira looked down. But Arsene wasn't a part of him anymore. He had watched him shed his otherworldly appearance to become him, and then get beheaded. He watched as his own head rolled onto the stone cold floor, black blood pooling underneath to taint the sack cloth.
He headed up to the Diner and got a booth for himself. Leaving his bag and Morgana there, he headed into the restroom. He wasn't hungry or thirsty. He hadn't been since...since...since he died.
Closing the door and making sure it was locked, he stared at himself in the mirror. Large gray eyes surrounded by thick lashes looked back at him through clear glasses, black curls occasionally falling into his vision. His skin was light and unblemished, and lifting up a hand to eye level, he examined the thick blue vein under his skin.
His Personas...His selves had bled black. His fingers slowly caressed the smooth skin, able to feel the rhythmic pulsing just underneath. Did he bleed black too...?
He glanced around the bare toilet stall, half wondering if anyone was here, before slowly pulling out a swiss knife from the pocket of his jeans. Flicking the blade open, he observed with a dispassionate gaze as the dim restroom light fixtures reflected off of the cool metal.
Would he bleed human?
Placing the blade before his vein, he clenched his jaw tightly. His heart pounded in his chest, sending more blood to and from the vital organ. What color would it be? Would it tell him he was human? Or did he bleed black, and he was really some kind of- of monster that only appeared human?
His breathing turned shaky as he pressed the sharp edge against his skin, putting enough pressure until it finally penetrated his flesh with a slight sting. Dark liquid seeped out from his self-given wound between the blade, slowly pooling out and dripping from his wrist and onto the porcelain sink.
Red. A very dark red but red nonetheless.
He let out a silent exhale, whether it was out of relief or disappointment, he couldn't tell. Nothing was clear to him anymore, not even with results like this. Quickly bandaging his wound, he made sure it would be covered by the sleeve of his black suit jacket before washing the blade and his own hands clean of sanguine. He didn't need Morgana to smell blood on him.
He couldn't let anyone know.
They wouldn't understand.
Turning the corner at the crepe shop, he paused when he noticed Caroline sitting on top of a jail cell door- his jail cell door. She swung her short legs back and forth as a bored frown occupied her childish face, her blue cap shielding her eye.
He slowly walked up to the gate and everything paused around him. Noise ceased to be. Looking out toward the main street, he noticed that everyone was frozen in time. Teenagers were in mid conversation with their phones as their foot was just about to hit the ground. Businessmen swung their briefcases up, never swinging back down. Womens' dresses fluttered in the cool May breeze, as still as death.
"Inmate."
He turned back around, even noticing Morgana had disappeared from his bag, and regarded the otherworldly parole officer with trepidation. "Hey..."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and jerked her chin toward the jail cell door. "Our master has opened another doorway for you into the Velvet Room. Be grateful." She stated shortly. "You going in?"
He pursed his lips. Did he want to go back to where he watched himself die? No. It had changed him fundamentally, even though these people treated it as an everyday occurrence. But... "Justine had mentioned I could summon my old Personas again..." He murmured quietly. "Is that true..?"
She tapped her mary jane on the concrete. "You'll just have to see for yourself." With a snap of her fingers, the rusted bars creaked open, showing a blue void into nothing. He hesitated but a small foot shoved him forward and he stumbled, falling into the unknown yet known abyss.
He held in his screams as he fell, the weightlessness in his stomach making him feel nauseous. Even though he was clearly falling, he wasn't falling as fast as he should've been, as if gravity itself was distorted in this land of between. The very air squeezed and stretched him in ways he couldn't even explain. Large black chains rattled around him, their edges as sharp as a knife, and he tried to change his trajectory away from them.
With a gasp, he blinked and found himself on the wooden cot once again, already clothed in his inmate uniform. He resisted the urge to hurl as vertigo struck him, changing from falling to already sitting up. His throat swelled and his diaphragm flexed, but he held it in. His vision doubled, and he held a hand to his head, trying to keep himself upright even as he swayed.
Metal jangled as he slowly stood up and shuffled to the cell bars that imprisoned him from his wardens. Justine was here this time and stared up at him with one cool eye. "Inmate." She greeted coolly. "What may I assist you with?"
He licked his lips, trying to say the words he desperately wanted to be true. "I want..." He rasped, voice rough from his earlier experience. "I want Arsene." He wanted him back. His own Persona that had only existed within him. He wanted to be alive again. He wanted...He wanted...
He wanted himself.
She nodded and flipped through her clipboard, browsing through hundreds of blank name slots. His stomach sank as she went through several pages. Did that mean he had more Personas to get? To erase himself with?
She stopped at one. Tracing her finger over the name, she lifted it from its page and the English letters floated in her hand, ghostly wisps wavering slightly. She threw them toward the center of the prison hall and with a flash of blue light, Arsene appeared with a flap of his dark feathery wings. "We meet again, Master." The English gentleman thief greeted Akira and he felt his breath hitch.
He was back. He was here..!
Akira felt his eyes mist over in relief. Would he be back to normal again?
Glowing gently, his first Persona disappeared into a copy of his mask and flew at him, entering his chest. He held a hand to his heart as he felt him settle in the same spot he used to reside, but...
No.
It didn't feel right anymore. He sat weird, as if the spot had grown and broken and now what was once a throne was now a crumbling husk. Bones contorted out, carnage still clinging to the remnants. A sickly sweet scent arose into the air, polluting his very soul.
It felt wrong wrong wrong.
He furrowed his brows as he began to hyperventilate, gray eyes unseeing anything in front of him as he tried to comprehend why, just why Arsene didn't feel right anymore.
"You have grown without me."
He stilled.
"Your heart has changed in my absence."
No...
"I am not the Arsene you know, for that Arsene has dissipated into another. I am the Arsene that existed up until his fusion."
Then who am I?
"You...are my master."
"Our master..."
Several voices intoned after Arsene, and he closed his eyes.
But not Kurusu Akira.
