He always lived his life by the rules and their consequences.
Be a good boy. Do as your peers tell you. Use keigo when addressing them. Do not look away from their eyes when they are reprimanding you. Nod. Apologize when necessary. And make sure the art piece was finished for the next deadline. On-time promised good rewards and a fine conversation around the table until his knees were sore from sitting.
But that was okay.
The pain reminded him of the good things that came when he was punctual.
They would go around the table, listening to one another's stories or whichever project held their attention. Some would speak with excitement stitched into each word. Some would duck their head in modesty and brush the spotlight onto the next person.
Others stared despondently at the smorgasbord of food.
It wasn't until there were less than five students left Yusuke realized there had always been something horribly wrong.
Sensei-
( Madarame , his mind corrected.)
-never laid a hand on any of them. Why would he need to resort to physical punishment when all it took was strategic words? Where Madarame Ichiryusai struggled in the visual art, he excelled in the craft of speech. Each phrase that left his mouth was a strategic dagger poised at the throat of a poor student who failed to deliver their work on time. He was disappointed, he thought they knew the importance of the upcoming exhibit, he shouldn't have to tell them this every time they picked up a brush.
Madarame's techniques silenced him into obedience.
And obey he did.
He hated the corner of the studio. He hated that the other students would talk while he was right there .
He hated himself for refusing to see it sooner.
It was Skull who rushed to his side first.
The aftershocks of a wind-elemental spell still pulsed against his brain when Skull grasped his outstretched hand (when had he reached out in the first place?). "Fox, you okay?" he called, his voice always loud enough to breach whatever blocked someone's mind from their body.
"I'm fine." Fox lied. Winded, pun not intended, but he was fine.
He always found Skull's mannerisms callous. Prickles of irritation would dance along his veins any time Skull's rash actions risked putting them in danger. But as a Phantom Thief, Skull knew stealth came before brute force. Were they ever in any real danger in the first place? Or had Fox always trusted him so little?
"You took quite a hit back there." Skull observed, unconvinced. "I know we're rushing back into the whole stealin' hearts thing, but we don't have to train like this if you can't take it."
Years and years sitting in front of a canvas that he wish would just paint itself did not lead up to failure. He pushed through fatigue and hunger and sleepless nights. He could go a little more. "Do not be so quick to assume the worst." he found himself saying, unable to reel back the small bite in his words. "I may be your newest addition to the team, but I can pull my weight just as you."
Skull narrowed his eyes. "Wasn't saying you couldn't. I know how weird it is after a confession takes place—"
"—What's going on?" Mona asked, followed behind by Panther and Joker.
Don't answer . Yusuke's mind begged.
But the rambunctious student didn't listen to mental pleas and desperate eyes.
Skull couldn't hear his thoughts either. "Maybe we should call it quits for the day." he said, thumb jerked in Fox's direction. "Doesn't seem like his head is really all 'there', if you get what I'm saying."
The childish protest sprung to his lips. "I don't want to," he looked to Joker who's gaze flitted from Skull to him. "I'm fine. We still have one more heart to steal."
"Yeah, but... " Panther started, eyes downcast.
"It's not for a few more floors." Mona finished. "I think…"
Skull mumbled, "That's not really helpful."
"If you're so great, why don't you try looking instead?" Mona bristled.
" How— "
"Alright, break it up!" Panther snapped, and no sooner was she trying to douse the steadily growing flames of a feud between them.
Mona prided himself on being a gentleman, but for all his boasting, he had his moments, Fox came to realize. At times, he could be a wise mentor while others he could be as immature as a child, picking fights with Skull over trivial matters. And Skull took the bait, as he always did. Or maybe it was Skull laying it out for Mona to eat. It was hard to tell, and less than a full month of knowing Joker and his friends was not enough time to gauge their exact behavior.
"We still have time." Joker's voice snagged his attention. "There's no need for us to complete the mission today."
Fox shook his head. "But we're already here, yes?" he countered. "Wouldn't it be pointless to not steal the last heart?"
"Mona said it himself: we don't know what floor it's on. And you're still new to the Metaverse."
We can't have you holding us back . is the rude thought that filled in the blank of Joker's speech.
But of course Joker said no such thing. "Let's return to the real world." It is the way Joker spoke- no, ordered. He doesn't give Fox another look before stepping in to break up a now-bickering Panther with Skull and Mona ("...and Carmen can tell us where it is?") ("That's not what I was saying!") ("Hey, don't be rude to Lady— er, Panther!").
.
.
He likened Ryuji to a rambunctious student that was kicked out the minute he back-talked Madarame. For a long while, Yusuke blamed the student for disrupting the peace. How repulsive- how ugly to be ungracious in the face of a man who took them in out of the goodness of his heart? For a long while, he thought Ryuji was the same: stubborn and unable to listen to others.
.
.
Fox knew there was little room for argument, but he still sat quietly in the back of the Mona bus.
Mementos itself was beautiful for all its chaos and darkness. The purple light bounced off the vehicle, spilling through the windows and shedding and changing colors as they traversed one floor to the next. If not for the poor lighting, he'd love to capture it on canvas. No one would believe a world as bizarre and fascinating as Mementos existed.
That was art.
...wasn't it?
"Still pissed?" Skull nudged him in the arm.
Fox blinked. "I was never... 'pissed' to begin with."
"Good." he coughed a laugh, but Fox wasn't sure why. Maybe it was from relief. "I'm kinda glad we're headin' back. It's hard to see when you're the one doin' it, but you were really pushing yourself."
And it hadn't felt like that, but now that he was sitting, he could feel the fatigue slowly slipping in. His legs felt heavy, his arms tingling from being tensed when he ducked and rolled to dodge an attack, or whenever he was blasted off his feet, or whenever he had to use his katana. Not to mention the pulsing headache that came from casting Bufu spells on enemies with a low tolerance to ice.
It was not unlike the times he departed from a completed painting a night before the day of the exhibit.
Yusuke could never afford to postpone deadlines, but Fox could.
"It's important to take breaks too." Skull continued. "Something you learn the hard way in sports."
"I'm not involved with physical activities at Kosei." he interjected.
"Well, yeah, that's kind of obvious." and Fox started when Skull poked his side. At the offended look, he raised his hands in defense. Up front, Panther and Joker talked quietly, unmindful of whatever was going on in the back. "Sorry, sorry, no touching, got it." he slouched back in his seat. "Anyway, it's all about pacing. The way you're going now, you're just gonna burn yourself out before the game even starts. A lot of new athletes make that mistake, and it's the same for Phantom Thieves. Just don't be afraid to lean on us."
In the atelier, the students would come to lean on one another - especially if there was a student dragging behind on their project.
Madarame reprimanded both of them.
That was when the rowdy student snapped.
"...And then what?"
"Huh?"
Fox looked at him. Skull watched back in silence.
No.
He was listening.
"And if I drag you down?"
Skull scoffed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Who gives a shit if you do? You got me, Mona, Panther, and Joker. If two of us fall, there are three more to pick us up." he paused. "Look, I dunno what got drilled into your head, but things are different with us. Joker's a good guy, and he won't boot you off the team because you gotta take a breather now and then. Take a chance with us."
The words settled in. Fox looked at them closely, rinsed and repeated until they were laid out in his mind's eye.
"I'll try." he finally said, and he wondered if Panther and Joker heard him.
"Alright!" Skull exclaimed, swinging an arm around Fox's shoulders, tugging him into some awkward, one-armed hug. The zipper of his collar bit into his cheek.
Panther looked at them quizzically. "What's going on?"
Fox heard Skull reply, but he never picked out what was being said. His eyes caught Joker's in the mirror before he slowly extracted himself from Skull's loose hug.
Take a chance. Take a risk.
Fox could do that.
Could Kitagawa Yusuke?
.
.
The minute Ann truly opened up to him, he knew there was no way to capture her in art. Not with his limited experience. Sometimes, she reminded him of a classmate that agreed to model for him. If he were to look at that sketch of the model now, would he feel the same emptiness he felt when he gazed at Ann?
.
.
"Come onnn !" she giggled. "We'll split it!"
Yusuke had the fortune of catching Ann at the end of one of her modeling sessions. When he asked if he she would model for him, of course she denied. But as they wait outside the crepe stand, he knew it would end with another empty piece. He could replicate what he saw onto paper or canvas, but art was meant to go beyond replication.
What was the point of drawing if he couldn't evoke feelings?
His stomach grumbled. "I'm not too fond of sweets."
"How can you not be?" Ann exclaimed in mock offense. "I'm even offering to pay." and she tried with that kicked puppy expression, eyebrows crinkling together just slightly, lips turned up in a small pout. "Please?"
"But isn't it your money? I don't see why you would need my permission."
"Because I want to share it!"
It doesn't take more than that. Ann ordered one stuffed to the brim with whipped cream and fruit. He could almost taste the sugar from staring at it.
She looked to the left and right, around her, and Yusuke didn't realize she was surveying for eavesdroppers until she spoke. "Actually, I wanted to talk with you about yesterday." she paused. "I mean, I wanted the crepe too, but I just wanted to check in on you. You've been kind of out of it since Madarame's confession."
For as rash as Ryuji was, Ann was quick to the point. When he first gazed upon her, he would have never associated such headstrongness with Ann. She was very different from the girls at Kosei - from the girls he knew growing up. It was a side to Ann he never knew existed.
He wondered what went through her head when she saw Madarame's confession. The fat tears that dribbled down his face, snot and spit smeared on his dry mouth as he sobbed uncharacteristically. It had been truly unnerving.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Ann offered.
"No." he answered. "There is nothing to talk about. I'm grateful for the Phantom Thieves and I vow to give you my full support."
Ann fell quiet for a moment, and Yusuke worried it was the wrong thing to say. He truly didn't know Ann as well as he would have liked. "Ryuji was right, you know," she said quietly. "that you can lean on us too. We're your friends too and you don't have to shoulder everything."
It was the opposite of what he was taught growing up.
Relying on his classmates had always been acceptable, as long as he wasn't overbearing.
But at what point did it cross into 'overbearing'?
"It doesn't have to be today," Ann assured. "but just keep it in mind." and she smiled, eyebrow dipping in a wink.
He smiled back, even if he knew his heart wasn't in it.
They found themselves walking back to the station together. He ate more of the crepe than he had anticipated, apologizing to Ann when there was a little more than a quarter left, but she assured it was fine. 'Her treat', she had said.
Shibuya housed many crowded buildings and wide alleyways. While they were corners Yusuke wouldn't think to traverse at night, he walked through them with Ann, unmindful of the crude graffiti screaming profanities or sloppy insignias for a mascot character.
"Oh…"
He stopped, looking back to Ann.
Sprawled on the white surface of the wall was the Phantom Thief logo. Despite the miscoloring of the flame spilling from the eye socket, it was well drawn, and before he can stop himself, he brushed at the edge of the mask. The paint dyed the side of his hand, deep red against the backdrop of his pale skin.
"Uh, why'd you do that?"
He didn't answer her, focusing on the wet paint. Truly, this was not regular graffiti but art. "It seems we've inspired someone." he mused.
"Our class draws on the chalkboard all the time." Ann said, looking up at the spray-painted logo. "Have you done street art before?"
"No," Yusuke shook his head. "Most of our artwork had to fit inside the museum. Physical models had to be mobile and on-site."
"Right… I guess that makes sense. But were you ever interested?"
Her question rang in his ears, simmering in his mind before the effect of her words coaxed out a response. "I suppose. There is something free in this art style, away from the prying eyes of critics." he looked at her. "Madarame did not have a positive view of street art. We often associate graffiti tags with vandalism, but there are those who create masterpieces that could never be held in a building."
Ann hummed thoughtfully, bringing a finger to her chin. "Free, huh…?"
Yusuke stared.
She didn't move.
"...Ann?"
She blinked, as if snapping back into her body after visiting a separate plane of existence. "O-Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking."
When it was clear she wasn't going to elaborate, he looked back to the graffiti. He didn't see a name sprawled along the lines of the art, which was understandable. Art or not, it would still be considered a crime by the Shibuya police.
An odd prickle of envy twinged in his chest. The Phantom Thieves were inspiring people in Tokyo, undoubtedly reaching out to other provinces. Mementos and thievery opened up a new world to him, but inspiration eluded his fingertips again and again.
But then…
"...There is something wrong with this."
"What? But it looks just like your calling card."
He narrowed his eyes, unable to keep the disappointment from slipping into his voice. "The flame on our calling card was white. They usage of black paint blends in with the shadow of the top hat. I find it disruptive to the composition—"
"Hey, Yusuke, we should probably start heading back to the station." Ann nudged at him gently.
"—maybe I should acquire some white paint myself. Though I don't have the funds for a fresh can."
"Alright," she tugged. "we're going. Now."
.
.
Beneath Madarame's surface lay an unforgiving man who committed unspeakable crimes. He fooled others and maybe fooled himself at one point. Loathe as he was to admit it, Madarame gave him a family - at least in the beginning. He did care for him even if it was for his own gain.
Ren cared for Yusuke, but not out of selfishness. He treated all his friends equally, knew how to listen and knew what to say.
Somehow, the Phantom Thieves gave him a second family.
.
.
Yusuke wondered that if he peeled back layers and layers of memories, could he recall his mother? Could he remember the time she painted the Sayuri , or when she held him and stared down at him lovingly? And if he could look further, would he see Madarame standing behind her or in the corner, the seeds of jealousy and greed sprouting their first stalks and leaves in the depths of his eyes?
He realized it's all pointless to think on.
With the fantastical power of Personas or not, it was impossible to replay the events of what he could not remember. The Persona was an inner self, not a magical genie that could grant childish wishes.
"Will you be ready tomorrow?" Morgana meowed, ceasing his grooming atop the adjacent stool. Sojiro had left for the night, entrusting Ren to close up shop and saying Yusuke was more than welcome to spend the night.
Morgana's question caught him off guard. "Yes."
"Wrong answer." he sighed.
Yusuke frowned. "How so?"
"That was a test," his tail flicked. "and you completely failed it. We're not going back to Mementos tomorrow or the day after."
Irritation sparked in his stomach. Morgana was their mentor, but that didn't make him their leader. "I believe the final say comes from Ren."
"Those are Ren's exact words."
As if on cue, footsteps sounded from the stairs. Ren gave Yusuke a dip of the head in acknowledgement before retreating the sink to wash the remaining dishes. For a while, Yusuke watched him quietly.
( "At your pace, you will never have this finished on time. I suppose Maki-senpai will have to double her workload." Madarame sighed. "I'm disappointed in you, Yusuke." )
The chair scraped loudly against the ground, and Yusuke's heart thundered angrily in his chest. Morgana jolted with a startled yelp. "Why aren't we going after our next target?"
At first, he thought Ren didn't hear him, but then he places the clean dish aside, turning off the water. When he turned to face him, his face was unreadable. "We still have time."
"That is the same excuse you gave me before." Yusuke bit out, nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists at his sides. He wasn't intending on yelling at Ren, no. But… "The issue is me, isn't it?"
Ren stared back coolly.
The pause was too long.
"I don't understand." and he doesn't. "If I'm holding us back, the best approach would be to help me adjust to the Metaverse."
"You're not holding anyone back, Yusuke." Morgana muttered tiredly, eyes sad.
Ren didn't move from the sink. "You're distracted. Ryuji and Ann noticed it, and so have Morgana and I. When you're in Mementos, you need to be on guard. One mistake could be your last."
"I'm not—"
"Stop lying to yourself."
His mouth snapped shut.
Lying ?
Is that what he was doing?
Ren didn't spare him a second glance as he moved to the cabinet near the stove. Peering closer, Yusuke realized he was bringing out a plain coffee mug. "You brew?" he finally said. At Ren's nod, he continued, "I don't have any money—"
"There you go again." Ren cut off. "We're not asking you to return favors or to pay us for feeding you, Yusuke. Friends treat one another."
( "You always return a favor. I provide you and the students with a roof over your heads. You do not have to pay room or board, but you must do as I say. ")
Instead, he watched quietly as Ren set up the coffee machine.
"He's a novice." Morgana yawned. "But the boss likes it, so he's doing something right."
Ren smirked, but said nothing.
Yusuke seldom drank coffee growing up. Normally, his beverages were reduced to herbal teas in Madarame's atelier, or whatever the vending machine at Kosei had to offer. Cold coffee had been one of the options, but he never put his pitiful pocket-yen towards it.
When he was finished, he slid the mug to Yusuke, coming around the bar to sit on the stool next to Morgana. The coffee is indeed lacking a certain ingredient that was always present in Sojiro's. Novice indeed, but a quick learner.
"If you want to talk, I'm here." Ren said.
( "Yusuke, doesn't it anger you when Sensei does stuff like that? This is our art! It's gotta piss you off too, right? Just say it, I won't tell anyone! ")
He didn't want to, and he was unable to fight back the self-hate when the realization slowly washed over him, as if sucking him down underwater. History would always repeat itself with him. Lying. Yes, he was lying to himself and to his friends. Just as he lied to the other students in the atelier and defended Madarame until the students began condemning him too.
It was impossible to break away from cycles of behavior.
One rule: Respect your classmates and your peers.
Another rule: Return the favors someone did for you. Life was endless debt. An eye for an eye was true.
A final rule: You could never fully rely on someone. They always found a way to hurt you.
He put down the cup on its saucer.
Madarame did not teach him that last one. Yet it somehow wormed its way into his brain, burrowing and making a home when the cloth fell away from the Sayuri .
"Some of my classmates are drawing on the board in homeroom," Ren said, eyes trained on the burner under the coffee maker. "Sometimes they'll write crude messages. Kawakami-sensei didn't appreciate it." he looked at Yusuke quizzically. "Does your homeroom have a similar problem?"
He shook his head, unsure of how to answer or what Ren's motive was. "Kosei is very strict about student behavior. A penalty would be given if someone were acting out of line."
"I see…" Ren murmured.
"It was the same with Madarame." he found himself saying, fingers curling around the warm cup of coffee. "There were no boards for us to draw on, but we would be reprimanded for ruining a canvas with amateurish artwork."
"What makes art 'amateurish'?"
"There is no straight answer. What makes art varies from person-to-person. By Madarame's standards, it had to reach to the viewer on a physical level. Over time, he put less emphasis on reaching the hearts of our audiences." he stilled as the words fled his lips. "I've been following that rule for so long that my own art is lacking."
"But Ann felt something when she saw that painting at the exhibit." Ren said softly. "I never saw it myself, but she knew it was yours. She sensed anger and frustration from it."
The mosaic of lavender and red and dark colors… Yes, he remembered that one. He remembered redoing it twice before mashing angry shades together, putting all his frustration into the poor painting. As if it was the source of all his troubles at the time. And it was. They all were. He hated his old art.
But he hated how much Madarame's confession blocked the creative process.
Could he truly not stand on his own without the guidance of a teacher?
Yusuke sighed. "I suppose she did."
He later finished his coffee before excusing himself to catch the trains.
.
.
The text arrived before the stroke of midnight.
REN [23:31]. I'm sorry this is late.
REN [23:32]. Can you meet me in Station Square? It's an emergency.
He frowned.
YUSUKE [23:36]. I'll be there immediately.
.
.
Station Square wasn't a far walk from the Kosei dorms, but it felt long when it was the dead of night and the wind nipped at his skin. It was more of an annoyance than anything else. A part of him wondered if it was Goemon's affinity for ice that kept him from shivering as he took step after step.
Ren was waiting by the Buchiko statue, hood pulled up and bag slung over his shoulder. When he saw him, he waved him over.
Yusuke glanced around. "Where are Ryuji and Ann?"
"Waiting for us." he said with a jerk of his head. "This way."
It wasn't until they were traversing the crosswalk when Yusuke realized they were going in the opposite direction of the hideout. He held his tongue, trusting whatever Ren had in mind even though his curiosity threatened to breach the silent night air around them.
Shibuya under the night dome was like an entirely different world. The lights from the buildings twisted and turned, like a string of ribbon that wove up and down streets. There were scarcely any cars and very little people. Any person with a well-adjusted sleep schedule were no doubt tucked in their homes, windows cracked to let in the summer air.
When they stepped into the alley and the graffiti came into view, Yusuke could only blink in confusion.
"He's finally here!" Ryuji chuckled, pushing away from the wall with the Phantom Thief logo.
Ann smiled gently. "Sorry, it's kind of late, isn't it?"
Ren slipped the bag off his shoulder, Morgana bounding free when the zipper was pulled back. Yusuke didn't miss the sound of metal when the bag hit the concrete.
...and his mouth ran dry when Ren tossed Ryuji a spray paint can.
Ann swiped a thick brusseled brush, and Yusuke realized Ren's bag was stocked full of spray paint and traditional paint cans. How Morgana sat amidst all of that, Yusuke was not sure.
As if reading his mind, Morgana said, "I'm all sore…"
Ryuji pat him on the head. "You'll be fine. 'Sides, it's a small price to pay for something big."
Ann handed him the brush. "Street art, remember?" and she winked.
Morgana's ears folded back. "Hey, easy with that can, Ryuji! You're gonna spill it all over the ground!"
Everything was happening at once from Morgana and Ryuji's bickering, to Ann watching him patiently, to Ren pulling out the last of the paint. Five colors. One for each of them. Though he was curious as to how Morgana was going to use a brush…
"I don't understand." he said.
Ann giggled. "You don't have to. You said you've never had the chance to do street art, right? Well, that changes tonight!"
"It's not a crime if you don't get caught." Ren added, backing away from the can he had been struggling with. It was a rich red. Like the Phantom Thieves logo. Like Joker's gloves. Then, more seriously, "We're not going to force you to tell us. Tonight and tomorrow, just take it easy."
Yusuke swallowed, pushing back the words that had not yet formed a coherent sentence.
"Yeah, quit pushing yourself like that," Ryuji chipped in. "Gonna make the rest of us look bad. Maybe this one too." he clapped Ren on the back, startling him.
They were looking at him, but their eyes weren't accusatory. They weren't worried. They weren't judging him like Madarame or maybe the students he butted heads with.
They were patient. They were his
Friends . something in his mind said firmly, and he wondered if it was Goemon.
"And when you are ready," Ann said. "we'll be here."
For once, someone would wait for him. Nobody was forcing him to speak.
When you're ready .
Something tightened in his throat and burned his eyes. He shut them, chuckled softly. The brush in his hand felt realer than before. "You all were. I'm sorry for not seeing it sooner." he finally said. "And I'm truly grateful for all of you."
"We're glad to have you with us, Yusuke." Morgana piped up. "Now, let's start out next mission: Street art!"
The inspiration still evaded him, but as he approached an empty wall, the sounds of paint being sprayed and voices chatting amiably but quiet enough to draw anyone out on their nightly stroll, he remembered a bold statement could be just as strong as art.
Yellow, blue, pink, and green streaked the white wall around the (miscolored) logo. Alone, they were meaningless scribbles. But together, they formed a unity he could not fully explain.
He knelt by the paint left by Ren.
Brilliant red clung to the brush's hairs as he plunged it into the mouth of the can.
And he painted.
.
.
Omake:
"Can you even read that?"
"Yeah…"
"...Well?"
"It says, 'never, never, give in'..."
A beat of silence. "Wow, sounds edgy."
"I don't know, it sounds kind of cool…"
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