Mpyrkh: Well, he didn't date them all at the same time. But yeah, he got around.
Callmecrazylol: That… wasn't even intentional, but okay, I'll roll with it.
Inchinaruko: Told you, everyone is accounted for here. And Phil's not gone, after all, as long as literally anyone exists, so will he (same logic with Nyarlathotep).
I'm tempted to just name this chapter 4.5, but… well, that'd get confusing should I ever decide to edit the chapter or any of the later ones, so whatever. This is really just the rest of chapter 4, but even before I wrote it, I knew it was going to take too long (hence the warning about the abrupt Minato-focus) so I just decided to cut it into two chapters.
Fire…
There's fire all around him.
The bluenette coughed, having inhaled the smoke coming from the flames. His head is pounding on the left side; he must've hit it on the door.
His body aches, barely able to move his little arms and hands to fiddle with the seat belt keeping him restrained.
He's sees two bodies in front of him; skin charring and burning away to ashes. The sight was horrible, but the smell of burning flesh was worse. But the worst part was that he knew he was watching his family burn in front of him.
After several minutes of trying, he finally undoes the seat belt, causing him to fall to his right, hitting the ground shoulder-first. The car must've flipped over.
"Ugh," he groans, seeing his reflection in the shattered in glass. The right side was facing the ground; he was going to have to climb his way out.
And climb he did, grabbing onto the seats, doing his best to ignore the burning sensation he felt in his hands until he managed to jump up and reach the door.
Holding on as tightly as he could, he positioned his feet on the headrest for leverage, slowly managing to open the door enough for him to crawl out of.
Pulling himself up, he finds himself atop the left side of the car before shortly falling and hitting the ground again, this time actual ground made of asphalt and concrete.
He looks back at the burning car again and slowly crawls away, never taking his eyes off it as everything he knew slowly began erasing itself, and would soon be forgotten as if it were never there.
He hears low chuckling and he turns his head. He sees what could only be described as a ghost with chains around what appeared to be its neck and an unsettling grin that seemed to stretch too far.
But there's someone else.
He couldn't get a good look, but he saw it clear as day—amber eyes standing there watching him.
"Ugh," Minato groaned, slowing flexing his fingers to loosen his stiff joints one at a time. He tried moving his arms, only to find them hitting something solid.
Shaking his head for a moment, he opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by snow.
"Right," he whispered in a raspy morning voice. It was getting late, so dug a little tunnel in a mountain of snow so that he'd have shelter for the night. It worked, even if it was cold as hell.
Bringing his arm forward and then the next one, slowly bringing himself out of the tunnel and into the outside world. He barely had any room to move his legs, even to do something as simple as crawl out of here. Finding his entrance having become blocked overnight, he's forced to push the snow out until he pushed too far and felt his hand become exposed to the cold air.
When he finally pokes his head out, he was reminded just why he dug that little tunnel in the first place. Even with Jack Frost shielding him from the worst of it, the cold stung his skin and he was forced to close his eyes again immediately when the snow hit his eyes.
It had started snowing late last night, and it would appear that the light flurry had transformed into a heavy blizzard overnight, so bad that he could hardly see five feet in front of him, and the wind howled in his ear, making the cold chill even worse.
"Ah shit," Minato cursed, crawling out of the tunnel and standing up as best he could. The wind was strong enough that he had to fight against it because it threatened to push him off balance and knock him down.
He hated traveling in blizzards, but it looks like he didn't have much of a choice this time.
"She better not have lied to me." He growled as he pushed his way through the snow, losing his footing and slipping on multiple occasions.
Even if it takes him all day, that bastard was going to die tonight.
But first things first, he needed to get his things.
Slowly dragging his legs through the endless amounts of white and shielding his eyes from snow that continued to fall, he came across a tree that he had marked by a knife stabbed into it—something he had done last night before going to sleep.
It was his a rule he made; always keep your things away from camp and outside of towns or cities unless you're absolutely certain that you can trust that your supplies cannot be stolen.
Letting the dagger de-materialize, he lowered himself and dug from beneath the tree until he felt his hands grab a strap from underneath. Taking hold of the strap, Minato pulled hard and out came a duffel bag almost completely covered in snow.
Opening up the zipper, he reached inside and pulled out some bread that was now stiff and cold. He got this from one of the traveling merchants going around courtesy of the god he hates most.
Still, food was food. Where it came from certainly didn't stop him from shoving what little he had left into his mouth and devouring it.
Zipping up his bag again and setting the strap on his shoulder, he continued marching south-west.
He could almost swear that his skin was going to start breaking off from all the cold, Jack Frost or not. It looked like even Personas had limits when it came to withstanding the harshness of their environments.
"Keep… pushing…" he urged himself. He had to—he owed it to them to keep on pushing. If he's going to die for his sins someday, so be it, but he's not dying to a goddamn blizzard.
Despite his efforts to conserve his personas' strength, he found himself having to quickly switch to a more fire-oriented persona to melt the snow in front of him so that he could move more freely. The transition always hurt like hell since most of his fire-based personas were either weak to the cold or didn't have the same resistance that Jack Frost and his ilk had, which meant a lot of pain coming from a blizzard.
His stomach continued to growl at him. He probably should've shopped at the restaurant or something before he decided to just start traveling to a place that he had no idea exactly how far it was.
"Crap," he thought as the idea that he might have been tricked came to mind. Fuck, was he so caught up in a lighthearted mood that he let his guard down enough to be tricked?
He began thinking about turning back when he thought he saw something. There in the distance, there was… something. He couldn't quite make it out, as the blizzard just made it out to seem like a spot that was slightly darker than everything else, but it was large enough to raise suspicion.
Dragging himself closer, the image got clearer and clearer; it looked like some kind of glorified church made entirely out of salvaged materials—signs, car parts, along with other things he couldn't recognize. It looked like he hit the jackpot!
Finding the closest thing resembling a door he could see, he fought against the wind and slowly pried the door open before practically leaping into the building with the 'door' slamming behind him.
Minato panted as he lied on the floor, closing his eyes and letting his body slowly begin to warm up again now that his body was out of the snow and strong winds.
Standing back on his feet and breathing into his hands, he looked around to find various makeshift beds all around him, complete with blankets and what he could only assume to be pillows. Judging by the noises he heard above the howling wind from outside, he could only assume the cultist or fanatic or whatever they call themselves were currently in the middle of a sermon or something.
In that case, he needed to get something out first. Reaching back into his bag, he pulled out a thick book and turned the pages until he found the one he desired.
Chuckling to himself, he moved to the second door that he assumed led to where the sermon was taking place.
"Time for a nasty surprise, Takaya…"
He kicked the door as hard as he could, tearing off or destroying whatever it was that held it in place and causing it to fall onto the floor, and the sermon that had been going on suddenly ceased.
Minato walked in and surveyed the room.
"Seven, ten, fourteen," he then eyed the man at the altar, "fifteen."
"Hello, Takaya," he greeted the man like he would an old friend. The man was pale, almost to the point where Minato once considered him to be an albino if not for his yellow eyes. He was dressed heavily for the winter, not surprising considering last he heard, his body had been ravaged by whatever Ikutsuki did to him and the meds he'd been taking to survive.
Of course, he also had the mother of all shocked faces.
"I don't see Jin anywhere," Minato noted the absence of his right-hand man, "So I did rupture his spleen last time, right? Ouch, painful way to go—shame we don't have hospitals anymore."
"Y-Y-You…" Takaya was trembling at the surprise appearance of the Blue-Oni. Good, this meant he finally learned what it meant to fear something.
Of course, the other fourteen members were confused and standing, presumably prepared to defend their… bishop? Priest? Cardinal? Whatever Takaya was, they wanted to help him.
Still holding the book in one hand, Minato reached into his bag and tossed a gem onto the floor, shattering it and causing all the members to gain pink irises.
"Go home and rethink your life," he ordered, and one-by-one they all left, leaving Minato with a zealot who was still paralyzed with fear.
"Speak up," Minato laughed.
"W-what…" his trembling lip just made it all the sweeter for the Blue Demon, knowing that one of the men he hated most was right there and cowering before him. "W-what are you…?"
"Of course I'd come. You're spreading the word of Nyarlathotep, and," Minato smirked, lowering his head so that his hood and the low lighting hid his face—all except his glowing blue eyes as he read from the book in his hand and slowly stepped forward, "'And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire; and ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods, and destroy the names of them out of that place.'"
He stopped when he was but arms-length away from the altar when he closed his book and put it back in his back, glaring the sickly man. "That, and… well, I still owe you for what you did to Shinjiro, yarou."
Feeling the tension in the air rising and knowing full well just who/what he was up against, Takaya chose to run as fast as he could, running out the side entrance and into blizzard that Minato had escaped from just moments ago.
"Well, this won't be long."
In a panicked frenzy, Takaya continued to trip and fall as he tried to escape the demon following him. He knew he couldn't win—last time he tried, Jin sacrificed himself for him.
"'Throw out the worthless slave into the outer darkness; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'" Takaya looked back, and saw Minato walking towards him, quoting a line by heart. "And here you are: Nyarlathotep's slave and you're already weeping."
Takaya turned back and clutched his head, screaming in pain as his persona materialized in front him: Hypnos, the god of sleep with wings painfully grafted onto his back.
Seeing this as his only chance, Takaya put all of his strength into one attack of pure fire, believing that the persona he must be using to survive the cold must at least be non-resistant to Agi-spells. If he could just stun him, then maybe—
All these hopes were dashed when the ball of fire that he cast was suddenly sent right back at him, engulfing him and searing his flesh, forcing his persona to retreat from the damage.
When the dust settled and the vapors from the snow faded, Minato was revealed holding an object in his hand.
"Magic mirror," Minato said, tossing the now worthless object aside. The major downside to these oh-so-great objects was that they were one-use only. "Not a good idea to go full power right off the bat. Your opponent might have trick or two ready."
Takaya could only wheeze, feeling his entire body coursing with more and more pain whenever he tried to move. Every time a muscle tensed, he felt the urge to scream in agony.
It was… gratifying to say the least —at the same time, a little underwhelming.
That's it? Just one strike and he's down? He knew that he out-classed Takaya, but that's it?
Still, Shinjiro could rest easy now. If only Ken was here to watch this bastard burn, then it'd be perfect, maybe even poetic.
Although, Takaya was favored by Nyarlathotep's champion, for whatever reason. If that's the case, then maybe he might know something?
"Before you die, tell me something," Minato ordered, stepping on his charred abdomen that forced a scream out of the older man, "Where's Ikutsuki? Don't tell me you don't know."
The younger man pressed his boot harder against the burnt skin, alleviating it for a moment with both that and his hateful gaze serving as a warning to start talking before things get ugly.
But his response wasn't what he was expecting…
Instead of whimpers, more wheezes, or even more screams or curses, Takaya was… laughing? The hell?
"What's so funny?"
"Y-You came from… Minashigo-in… I assume…" The would-be priest said.
"Minashigo-inn?" He repeated. Terrible name, but its meaning was clear; it was saying the place was a home to orphans… and he just came from—
"You see it!" Takaya laughed again as Minato's face paled. "If you found me…" he continued, fighting through the pain he felt with every word, "Despite our secrecy… it must mean…. He told them… there's… no one else… who knew… except our Lord and… His champion…"
And if he told them…
"Oh my God." He had to be lying… he had to be. He took off the moment he learned about Takaya and—
"Tell Ahaziah's soldiers I said hello, manko." Minato turned his head away, snapping his fingers and setting the bastard ablaze again, forcing him to scream in agony again.
Normally, Minato would stay to watch him be reduced to ash. But now? Now he had to know!
Screw tiring himself out, he just began burning all the ice and snow in front him so that he could take off as fast as he could, discounting the wind.
"No, no, no," he kept repeating in his head as his heart continued to race.
He didn't just leave when Ikutsuki was right there, waiting for the right moment.
He didn't just take the bait he left for him, hook line and sinker.
He didn't just leave and damn other orphans to die alone and in pain because of the man he despised above all else.
Well, shit. Mistakes have been made. To be fair to Minato here, remember that Ikutsuki is a master manipulator (judging by P3 anyway).
Sorry if killing Takaya feels underwhelming, but… well, what can I do with him? His persona's design makes fights hard, his body is a mess, and his gun kinda ruins fights. Same with Jin! Chidori is… I dunno, probably drawing something… if she ain't dead (I haven't decided yet).
Speaking of drawing, here's this artwork made by Wes80 of DA herself! sta . sh/0b8vxp4klmw
For the uninitiated, Wes is currently my main… okay, ONLY co-author after Anon moved on due numerous reasons (no falling out; just moving on). We primarily co-author Fallen Hero (her idea, I got it started with the first few chapters, and now she mostly writes while I proof-read and help plan things out together), but with OAC, I write, we both help plan, and she's the person who tells me when I'm doing something dumb. That and drawing amazing artwork apparently; I cannot stress it enough, thank you Wes!
As for the drawing itself… well, the whole "my mother was Catholic" thing was meant to be a joke, then we started seeing opportunity for him to troll people with verses, and now she drew a Catholic priest version of Minato. It… is…. Glorious.
Oh my god, now I'm just imagining him in Templar armor or dressed as a Teutonic Knight.