HEADPHONE
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Disclaimer: Persona 5 belongs to ATLUS
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Genre(s): Humor and Family
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Warning: Typo is my most loyal fan, spelling mistakes because English is not my mother language. Possibly OOC. NOT BETA, so beware of grammar mistakes.
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Summary: There's this one Confidant that tickles Akira's curiosity
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He was a fairly young adult, maybe around twenty to twenty-eight years old. With a brown hair cut short, faint stubble on his chin, a tattoo of a gecko on the left side of his neck, and prominent beefy muscles even with the long sleeves, the man looked intimidating. Almost monochrome. The only bright splotch Akira could see on his person was the orange headphone tightly strapped at each side of his light grey cap. He was in the middle of cleaning one of his wares, fingers halted for a split second as the bell hanging at the top of the door twinkled.
"Candy Shop is on the opposite street," the man grumbled, not even deigning to spare a glance towards the obvious high schoolers.
That was one way to say 'I'm not selling my stuff to underage children'.
"But we need the guns, my man!" Ryuji whined, leaning half of his body on the countertop, most surely trying to made the taller man cower by his scowl alone.
Of course, it didn't work, as the man tilted his head and half-heartedly gazed at the airsoft he'd been polishing since a minute ago. It sparkled, "No. If you just wanna play with your friends, buy some NERF gun."
"It's not! This is a matter of life and death!"
That made him stopped.
The man finally, finally, stared at his customers properly, moving the lollipop in his mouth from the right to the left lip. Akira fidgeted a little bit when that brown eyes roamed over the teenager's entire body, Ryuji bristled like a cat. The owner of the shop hummed, seemingly found whatever it was that he'd been searching for, then duck into the lower shelf of the front counter. Smacking a particularly heavy object on the top of the wooden table, "What's this?"
He blinked, confused at the change of topic. Yet gladly answered the question with, "It's…a monkey wrench."
Looked worse for the wear. Scratches peppering its metal surface. Bigger than the usual too.
(Somehow, he had a strange feeling that he could use the said wrench as a substitute for his dual short knife)
The owner let out a low snort this time and swept the big wrench aside, saying, "I changed my mind. Choose whatever gun you want, first buy discount."
Oh.
Okay then.
Akira didn't know what had happened but Ryuji was just happy that they can equip themselves better for the battle next day. He himself was quite surprised to find a Confidant in a place like this. Especially when the arcana was somehow questioning its own existence.
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 1
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Akira wondered what this was all mean.
The next time he saw him, it was when they tried to pawn the first dungeon's treasure for a quick buck.
Munehisa, just like their first meeting, was languidly manning the front shop. His sleepy orbs flitted to the entrance door, a long sigh escaped when he recognized the buyers, "You kids again. What? The guns broke?"
"Hey, trust on us a little bit, will ya?" Ryuji grumbled. He ignored the man's rose of eyebrows as he whipped the Olympic Medal out of his bag and excitedly pointed at it, "How much is this thing if we sell it to you?"
Munehisa drummed the fingers, "I don't accept any stolen goods."
"We didn't steal it!"
Not in real life, at least, Akira corrected. He pretty sure Ryuji and Ann did the same in their mind.
Munehisa's eyes rolled one hundred and eighty, clearly disbelieving. But he opened up his palm upward, silently asking Ryuji to pass the gold to him anyway, he needed to check the thing out to ascertain its authenticity. The older man flipped it this way and that way, staring at the engraving too closely; using his naked eyes or a compact magnifying glass. He scratched his uneven beard.
Before he bit the medal rather harshly.
It was so out of nowhere that they yelped, Ann even recoiled in disgust at his action. 'I'm not touching that', was what the girl then said. He popped the medal out of his mouth and Munehisa chuckled, gawking at the teeth mark that was left behind, "I'm impressed. It's real gold. 30.000 yen."
Whoa.
"30.000—"
"I can buy a parfait I've been eyeing since last week!"
"Yo, we can even reserve a whole ass buffet with this kind of money!"
"And beauty magazines."
"And video games."
"We can even do karaoke for more than two hours!"
"Okay, okay simmer down. Don't cause a ruckus in my shop," Munehisa huffed, shaking his head almost fondly as Ryuji and Ann hung their head in embarrassment. The shop owner gave a wad of money to Akira, who was grinning and in the middle of teasing his bashful friends, and made a shooing motion, "Now go. You're scaring my real customers."
"Okaaaayy..."
They stepped out of the place, although not before shouting 'we're a customer too' on Ryuji's part, and Akira himself took a wide stride. He let the breeze of the hearty afternoon kissed his skin, basking under the elated feeling that they've done a very good job. Until he suddenly remembered something and he stopped, "Hey," the child piped, "Do you sell a real weapon here?"
At the unexpected question, Munehisa blinked once. Twice. Thrice. He abruptly leaned back and gave a sharp laugh, shocking Akira from his stupor as that hearty bark was a bit too sudden. He turned his back on him, breathy chuckle could be heard even from a mile away, "Just go home, kid. We're not close enough for that kind of service, heh."
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 2
Akira frowned as he flipped through the flipbook full of English vocabulary, eyes squinting like he was trying to get an answer from that tiny little thing.
Mid-Term is hell. Exams are hell. English is hell in general. How could whoever-it-was-that-invented-English even thought 'hey, this type of language is pretty to look and speak at'. Well, maybe those people thought the same with Japanese (all the squiggly lines. Not to mention, kanji) but at least whatever they write, it sounds as it is. Unlike English, the hypocrite. How do you pronounce En-ga-ge again?
"Oh, man. That's nostalgic," Akira's head snapped upward, blinking as Munehisa peered from behind the counter. Huh. In his quest for memorization, his feet somehow brought him to the weapon shop unconsciously, "Looks like it's exam time now, hm. Good luck with that, kid."
Akira walked closer, took a brief glimpse at the displayed guns (he's here already. Might as well buy something) then stared back at the shop owner, "Were you a great student back then, Iwai-san?"
"Ha! No way! You think I would be here, selling these realistic-looking toys, if I am smart enough to land a job?" the man let out a chortle, hand smacking the surface of the table in a fit of mirth. He bagged the teen's purchased items, teeth glinted, "Definitely not. You better find an adult to tutor you."
"But you're an adult…"
Munehisa almost sounds like a lion when he cackled for the second time.
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 3
Music blared from the shop's loudspeaker, causing the wall to vibrated and the wares stocked on the shelves to jump rather merrily.
Akira's eyes blew wide open at the unexpected preference. He didn't know Munehira is the type of person who likes to listen to rocks, especially not this loud. Then again, he does have a headphone hanging on his cap.
The man somehow managed to still hear the bell jingle and turned the volume down, "New teammate to equip?"
Akira slowly nodded, bringing Yusuke, who was sighing in relief right after the music dwindled down, up to the front. Munehisa nodded sharply and picked up a small handheld gun, "Beretta Pico. Hold around 6 rounds of bullets. It's small enough that you can put it inside your pocket. So, it won't hinder your movement too much whenever you're swinging a katana on an enemy."
Yusuke's head tilted at the information, "How did you know I used a katana?"
"You reminded me of my friend," Munehisa received the money, putting it inside the cashier as he packed the airsoft gun, "Lithe body and fast eye coordination. Not to mention, that single scratch between your thumb and index finger. It's a mark katana user usually sport. Happened when everyone is still a novice and the weight of a real blade is a bit much to handle for the first time they unsheathed the sword."
Yusuke let out a sound of awe understanding, staring at—true to the older man's word—a tiny scratch on the painter's previously smooth palm.
"What's your friend's occupation?" Akira asked, curious about Munehisa's particular background story. It wasn't an everyday occurrence that someone blatantly told kids in high school that their friend is wielding a real-life katana. Often enough, he could immediately recognize when others are using the same weapon just within one glance. Does Kendo use a real sword?
But Munehisa never answered the question. He just turned the volume up once again and let the music drowned the subsequent conversation.
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 4
"It looks pretty authentic," Makoto commented, flipping an intimidating-looking sniper from the top to bottom, "Have you ever get involved with the authority for what you're selling, sir?"
Munehisa stopped short, staring blankly at the black-haired teenager, completely unamused. He turned his attention to Akira and said, thumb pointed, "You're not trying to report me or something, right kid? If you do, I'm going to bring you down along with me because you're one of my loyal customers."
Akira just laughed embarrassingly, sending an apologetic gaze along his way.
He couldn't really blame his suspicion though. Makoto is a student council president, the one who blackmailed them into working with her before she officially joined the team. She's commanding, to the point of demanding, that if she's not in her school uniform, someone might actually mistake her as a member of security. Maybe she got this attitude from her position in school or from her sister, who delved into the field of lawyerly, maybe a bit of both. One thing for sure though, Makoto is a bit too crash with her words.
(She's almost as bad as Ryuji and that said something)
Munehisa huffed, arm was used to prop his chin as his eyes stared at Makoto's unflinching one, "No matter how realistic they look, those are just toys, lady. If they want to arrest me for illegal weapon possession, they should've done so using my own crafted blades."
Hm. That so.
…wait.
"So you do sell real weapons here!" Akira chirped, hitting the surface of his palm with the other fisted knuckle. Makoto whipped her head to the bespectacled teen, shock and fright marred her beautiful complexion. Then at Munehisa, this time affronted and slightly upset.
"I'm still a third rate compared to my master, but if you bring me materials, I'll be happy to craft you some," Munehisa chuckled, "You can even get a discount out of it, as most of it came from your saving."
"That's reasonable."
"No, it's not! Sir, don't sell weapons to underage children! It is not appropriate!"
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 5
Shop: You're now able to buy and craft others weapons aside of guns. The cost of the weapons is now decreased.
Akira sighed. Sadness, sorrow, and depression wafted from every pore of his body.
They…they failed.
He didn't know what they—he—did wrong. Everything was the same. They explored the dungeon with usual fervor, stealing the treasure with the appropriate roads, leaving the shadows alone so he could confess to the mass about his wrongdoing. Yet Okumura died. He broke down, turned into a vegetative state before his soul left the body on its own. It was horrifying. It was devastating. Haru is now drowned in guilt and self-hatred. She wanted the man to pay for the mistakes he had made, but not at a cost of his very life.
The team was in a shamble. And Makoto said they needed time to recuperate.
He let out another long sigh—what did he do wrong this time? What did I do differently? Why am I so useless?—beforethe bench he sat on creaked. Akira looked up, and his eyes widened imperceptibly when he was faced with someone he never expected to be, "Iwai-san?"
Munehisa moved the lollipop around, pulling it out of his mouth, and let the thing dangle in between his two fingers. Like he was sucking a cigarette instead of a sweet snack, "That frown doesn't suit you, kid. School problem?"
Akira's head fell, "Not…really."
And if only it was something that simple…
Munehisa hummed, popping the candy back into his mouth as he mumbled between the licks, "Ever heard the term of Copy Cat Crime?"
…what?
What's with the non-sequitur?
"Pretty obvious from the name alone, right? It means someone is copying other people's work, whether in the name of ruining the original or coveting the original's original crime," Munehisa scratched his chin, "When it happened, inconsistency will crop out. Maybe the tricks they used are different, or the end result doesn't really align with the previous cases. The higher up usually able to differentiate after another look at the crime scene."
The older man's explanation—that still felt like it came out of nowhere (seriously. Why the sudden topic of a pretender?)—made the gear inside Akira's muddled brain move once again.
A copycat.
Someone who mimics other people's activity.
It was too convenient. And almost like Akira is trying to pawn his mistake onto someone else's shoulders, but—
There is an inconsistency.
Even after they've done everything the same, never straying from the intended path even once.
The end result was different.
Munehisa swiftly stood up, waking Akira up from his deep reverie. He stretched, swallowed the remaining piece of his candy, and whipped out a second one; it's chocolate flavor, "I don't know what kind of problem you're facing right now, kid. But as long as you're doing your paper by your lonesome, the teaches will instantly know that you're not the one copying other people's work," he turned away, waving without looking back as he gave a final advice, "Believe in yourself and wipe that scowl. You won't get any girlfriend with that much frowning."
Hey now. He definitely did not need that cheek.
Well. Akira laughed. The man did indeed give him food for thought, so he'll ignore that last word. There's something that's fundamentally more important than mere bad grades or his inability to find any destined partner, after all.
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 6
Akechi is the traitor.
Who would've thunk?
Everyone was livid the moment the truth is out. Makoto and Yusuke were silently cursing. Ann was trying to calm Futaba down, knowing this boy actually had a hand in her mother's death. Haru was pensive, switching between wistful and boiling in anger. And Ryuji was ready to throw the gloves, search for Akechi's whereabouts, and have a fistfight right there and then, consequence be damned. Akira, the leader himself, was disappointed, absentmindedly caressing Morgana's soft fur as he contemplated their next move.
They needed to stop Akechi, that much is a must. The detective said—spilled. To no one in particular—that he wants to get rid of the leader of Phantom Thieves. That means Akira. By 'getting rid of him', does he want to kill him or something? It isn't clear, though he leaned more toward the worst-case scenario.
…can they use that to their advantage?
There's going to be a simultaneous takedown involved, using the police force and the surrounding situation. Can they use that to plan an escape from Death's firm clutch?
Akira decided that all this thinking is giving him a headache. With a short 'I'm going to buy some snack', he's out of the frying pan.
(And right into the fire)
(But hindsight is 20/20, so Akira could only lament in silence)
He was in the middle of buying some noodle bread and a couple of strawberry bubblegum—Ryuji like those—when he heard a snippet of a harsh conversation, "No, I won't go back."
This scratchy voice. He plucked a couple of tomato soup can from its selves, creating a man-made hole on it for him to peer through. At the other side of the aisle, was Munehisa. Still clad in his monochrome getup and a scary scowl marred his stubbly complexion. He was speaking on a phone rather heatedly, walking back and forth, and must've been wearing the tiled floor since however long, "I'm fine. There's no way I'm going back when my business's booming. Those high schoolers are my walking ATM right now."
Wha—is he talking about us?
He wasn't wrong though, as they kept on buying or upgrading the guns they have whenever they were ready for another round of Memento exploring. But still. An old man calling children twice under his age his ATM is a bit much. Don't he find it degrading or something? That particular wording made him sounded like a leech.
There was a response, short and to the point, Munehisa grimaced, "Just…ugh. Just leave me alone, okay? That kid is my responsibility and I won't let you guys cover the medical bills."
"Not when taking care of him is the only way for me to ask for his sister's forgiveness…"
He ended the communication before the other could give another response, scoffing in annoyance as he turned to continue shopping. All of a sudden, his brown eyes latched onto Akira's blacks and the scowl that decorated his bitter face turned even more downward, "Did you just eavesdropped on me?"
Akira frantically shook his head, "I just arrived."
"Sure you are," Munehira snatched a bag of flour and a pack of chocolate cookie dough, mocking, "Next time you buy something from me, you gotta pay me double the amount. Even the crafted weapons."
(Shit)
(Right when he needed the extra protection too.)
Dammit.
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Upside Down Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 7
Shop: The cost of the weapons is now increased
A fist was flying, a kick connected with his rather fragile ribs. Fingers were buried deep within his hair and he could taste the iron dripping from inside his mouth. Everything is hurt. Everything is miserable. Akira is out of that place but he could still feel the phantom pain ghosting every surface of his vulnerable skin.
He should feel relieved right now. The mission is a success. Everyone thought that he's dead, Phantom Thieves is no more. And they got a bunch of evidence in regard to Akechi being one of the bad guys. Yet it was all just a silver lining. Everytime he closed his eyes, he felt like he's back inside that tiny cubicle. Punched and kicked, cast away like a piece of garbage they viewed him as. He couldn't rest peacefully, nor he could get a proper hour of sleep. As, whenever he did, nightmare dutifully crawled to the forefront of his mind, torturing him not only physically but mentally. He was so tired. So, so tired.
(He didn't know whether he can continue this anymore)
Akira was swimming between consciousness and unconsciousness, black spots dancing in front of his eyesight. He was ready to say 'fuck it' and decided to stay up all night. Except that bad decision had to be cut short as a rather cold palm landed upon his forehead.
Who—
"I should've known you're biting more than you can chew," whoever it was—someone's familiar. Or else Sojiro won't even allow them to step their foot into the café—murmured. To himself or anyone on the phone, they—looked like a male—he continued, still maintaining the whisper, "When I first heard the news, I thought you're—"
A hitched breath, a stuttered gasp.
Nimble fingers carded through Akira's clammy hair, wiping the cold sweat off of his face. The motion was soothing, calming, that his eyelids slowly yet surely shuttered down (somehow, it made him recalled the good, old day. Where his parents still care for him. His mother, singing him a soft lullaby while his father slowly stroking his hair in an attempt to chase the nightmare away. The memory was so bittersweet, Akira wanted to cry—), "I promised not to endanger myself again," the voice. It brought him back to reality, shattering the happy recollection his tired mind had conjured, "Not after the accident. But…I got a feeling you all going to hate me if I just sit like a lazy bum and let the children do all the hard work. Senpai might even raise from the grave to give me a good smacking. So, I'm doing it."
"I'm going to help your group now, Akira-kun."
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(It wasn't until the next day. When he finally remembered the presence of a late visitor and Sojiro told them whatever happened last night—a concerned friend, worried over the child's health after a week of not seeing him in person—that Akira could finally put a face to the familiar voice)
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 8
Shop: The weapons costs are now back to normal.
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(He wondered how did the man know where he lives, however. Did Akira ever tell him the address?)
Demiurge.
Yaldabaoth.
A treasure turned demon who usurped Igor from his place and force controlled the holy place that is the Velvet Room.
The 'God' was big. Bigger than any shadow they ever face. Towering over the tallest building, scaring the innocent citizen who ran around like a headless chicken down there. Akira could feel his hands trembling, saliva stuck in his throat, and sweat rolling down his temple.
This is it. This is the final battle. Where it'll determine whether today is going to be the end of the era or the start of something anew. Something good.
And right before he could let the order flew from his lips, before any attacks could be launch toward the bigger opponent, there was a—
STEP
—resounding ever so clearly amidst the howling wind.
Every single head swiveled to the source of the voice. Capturing the image of someone they could never imagine walking sedately toward the destruction, "Iwai-san?" Akira stammered, "Wha—what are you—"
"That's the enemy you need to defeat?" Munehisa looked almost bored, "Bigger than my version. Then again, she's not as arrogant as this one. I think it's all on the ego."
"Sir, this place is dangerous," Makoto started, "You should—"
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Naked truth lies, only if you realize
Appearing in nobody's eyes, till they sterilize
Stop the guerrilla, warfare to keep it fair
Bro, change your rage to a smarter greater cause
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"Eer…" Ryuji blinked owlishly when some funky music blared. Akira nearly stumbled at the suddenness of it all.
Munehisa, the man who was responsible for making them off-kilter, had ditched the grey cap. He put on his headphone properly, pulling out a wrench from behind the back pocket. Two big, monkey wrenches. The one that he had presented to Akira and Ryuji when they first visited his shop, "You know the stake is high stardom is near," he mouthed the lyric, blue light enveloped his entire body, "Those who sympathized you died, killer pass you by. Do not waste your time in hating flirting guys," a lone card—with a Magician mark on the back and a shadow of a tall figure on the front—slowly appeared. It spun, lowering itself down and down until it arrived right in front of Munehisa's feral smirk. He threw his hands, backflipped—, "Use your might to AIs—"
CRASH
—and somehow managed to crushed the card with the tip of his 'weapon', perfectly nailing the landing.
"—to do justice to them all"
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(There, stood Takehaya Susano-o in all its fiery-looking-afro glory)
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Confidant: 'Iwai Munehisa'
Arcana: Hanged Man (? ? ?)
Rank: 9
"You know we're the Phantom Thieves from the very beginning."
Munehisa droned distractedly at the, not quiet question, but a statement from the younger kid, fingering the handle of the suitcase as he watched the car went by.
After the end of their final battle, the man decided to close shop for a little while, opting to go back to his hometown that he ignored for the past couple of years. Thus, news about Munehisa's early retirement that instantly came the day after caught every single member of the thief off guard. It was just a lucky thing for Akira to managed to catch the back of his coattail before he could leave without answering anything.
And now they were standing under the waiting booth of the bus station, conversing as Munehisa waited for his personal pick up, "A bunch of kids, buying some replica guns, saying that they need it for the sake of someone else's life? I'll be worried if nobody noticed."
Akira somehow had a vision of Ryuji innocently whistling at that subtle dig.
"You have a Persona?" Akira asked again, shaking the weird thought off of his mind, "All this time?"
And you didn't tell us? You didn't tell me? was heard even if he never voiced it.
The man rocked on his heels, lollipop swirling between the teeth and tongue, "I'm not prepared to do something as lofty as changing the villains' heart like you guys did. It's too steep of a leap after a single case of a bizarre murder," the wind picked up as one of a particular car zoomed too fast, eliciting a round of horns and wordless complaints from pedestrians, "Besides, I have my own problem to care. I don't have time to play a hero when a group is already existed to do the leg work."
The problem, huh. Akira nodded. Well, no wonder.
(The reason why he had to close the shop wasn't because he doesn't want to face the inevitable questions that the Phantom Thieves will surely fire, actually. It was because, apparently, the kid he'd been monitoring on, who fell ill by an unknown virus and stuck in a coma, had finally woken up. Out of nowhere yet definitely something to look forward to, there's no way the older man won't immediately check on his condition)
(Also, Akira had to grill him multiple times before Munehisa finally relented and gave the factual answer. Still so secretive, even though they were moments away from separating)
"What changed then?"
"The interrogation."
Akira's shoulders tensed.
"Corrupted cops bring up a lot of bad memories. Though in my case, there's only one bad apple," he perked up when a car he'd recognized had slowly appeared from the horizon. The man pulled the orange headphone off of his neck then unceremoniously looped it around Akira's own. An action that startled him, that he snapped his attention back at the older man, "Take care, kid. Seeking out a therapist is not a cowardly thing to do. PTSD is a bitch, I tell you that."
Akira's mouth parted open, he wanted to say something. Whether it's going to be reluctant agreement or vehement denial, he didn't know. Because the string of words had to be stopped short when the grey car pulled over and the window rolled down. The driver was a man with hair of the same color as the vehicle itself, styled in a somewhat dorky bowl cut. Both of the older men exchanged a bro fist, before the airsoft shop owner step inside. He did turn around and gave Akira a cheeky grin, however, saying, "Oh. Iwai Munehisa is actually not my name, by the way. It's Hanamura Yosuke. Nice to officially meet you, kid."
Then they went, leaving Akira standing shock still, jaw figuratively dropped to the floor.
What?
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Confidant: Hanamura Yosuke'
Arcana: Magician
Rank: MAX
Farewell gift: Orange Headphone (it give you a massive boost in evasion and style. The more style point you accumulate, the more EXP and money you'll get after the battle. Can be used in New Game+)
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WHAT?!
The Confidant list is lying to me this whole time?
(A/N): I love Yosuke and I want a story where P4 casts meet P5 casts. I take one look at Munehisa's defender and decided 'that's a headphone. He's going to be Yosuke' :'D
The 'fake name', Iwai Munehisa, was used for the sake of ambiguity.
Yes, I know there are a couple of things left unanswered. Like, why is that wrench such a big thing? Who's the kid Yosuke was talking about? I left it like that just so Yosuke will look a little bit mysterious. That Akira will never get a firm grasp on him or something. If you noticed, he didn't even know the reason why Yosuke got a Persona in the first place. Or what did he meant when he said 'bizarre murder'.
Buuutttt you're the reader. So, here's the answer XD
The Monkey Wrench Yosuke used is a Skill Spanner, a weapon you got from Konishi's Liquor Store on a TV World. In this story, that thing isn't real. It's incorporeal. Can only be seen in the TV World or if you have a Persona. Yosuke asked Akira and Ryuji what is this thing to ascertain whether the problem these kids are facing is a real-life world problem or an otherworldly, fighting-a-bunch-of-Shadow kind of problem.
Then the kid Yosuke was watching for was Konishi Naoki. This is somewhat of an AU. Where, when the fog from the TV World leaked out, it affected the people in the worst way possible. They're sick. Like Nanako. And while most of them woke up after a day or a week or most, a month after, Naoki didn't. He's fairly weak. And his parents are…they're not neglectful, but a life support is pretty expensive. Yosuke then took the initiative to pay for his continuous treatment.
I searched on wiki that Iwai's age is around 45 to 65. But this is a story of P4 cast meets P5, so 7 years after P4? Yosuke is 25-26 years old.
Oh, he's also Deidara's apprentice. That's why he can make his own weapon. Even the airsoft gun. You guys need to remember that we bought Naoto's gun from the same dealer as well, the man gotta know how modern weapons work, dang :'D
And Yosuke deeeefinitely never stalked Akira to know where he lives. Definitely nooottt.
(He's definitely not. He just heard Yusuke talk about those nice coffees from Leblanc and asked Akira to give him a friend's discount. You're Boss' ward, right? Please, I need coffee to function. To give a boost to my brain so it can give me a pump of creativity! Akira refused)
Well, that's that. I never finished watching P5 playthrough—Idk why. The story just doesn't resonate with me. Even the characters—I think you're going to find a bit of inconsistency here and there. The character's characterization, the timeline of the event, or even how the event went itself. I'm not gonna watch the whole thing just to write a one-shot fic. `3`
But thank you for reading. Have a nice day~