Author Foreword: Thank you so much for choosing to read Persona 5 Divisions. This is the first fanfiction I've written in years, and I'm very excited to see where it takes me.
This is an alternate universe fanfiction stemming from the premise that the Metaverse and Personas are militarized by future governments and armies. It takes place in the far future, but features the same characters from the original Persona 5 game. It shouldn't spoil much from the game - after all, it is an alternate universe - but I would not recommend reading this if you haven't played the game already.
It will be a relatively violent and very dark story. Viewer discretion is very much advised, and please refrain from reading this if descriptions of violence is triggering in any way.
While many of the divergences from the canon will be made clear as the story progresses, I will say that the lore is a blend between that of the Persona series, and that of this universe.
Lastly, if you can, please take the time to leave a review - I truly appreciate all feedback!
-Silveroses
I – Militarized - January 19th, 3019
"The Metaverse is weird, and that's all there is to it. I don't claim to understand the inner workings of it, but I believe that we don't need to understand it in order to convert it to military use."
- Doctor Sadayo Kawakami, internal Metaverse briefing dated 11/20/3018
It was January nineteenth, in the year thirty nineteen, and the Federation of the Japanese Archipelago had declared war on the United Forces of the Atlantic only weeks ago. Today was the first field test of the use of Personal Psychic Familiars – or, the Persona – in a direct operation.
It was an emergency situation. There was a suspicion that the Federation would have continued to test the Personas again and again and again until they were forced to deploy them in active combat. Only, now they were, and now the Persona Division were the ones on the front line.
The Forces had marched on the city of Furutoro yesterday and had captured it with ease. The Federation was caught by surprise: they had expected a buildup, attacks that would weaken them. Instead, the Forces had begun their invasion of the Archipelago immediately, their invasion was effective. Furutoro was a coastal city on the westernmost periphery of the Archipelago: militarily, it was identical to any other town on the outer western islands, but it was home to the largest seaport in the region. Capture of the city would cripple the entire region's capabilities for imports and exports and would enable the Forces' army direct access to naval imports as they continued to march further inland.
The people of Furutoro were brutally aware of their position and had anticipated being one of the first cities to be attacked. But their defenses were overrun with ease. The Forces had developed a piece of technology that enabled them to overrun the city in a matter of a day: the Warp App, a device that enabled brief shifting in and out of the Metaverse.
The Metaverse was a strange place, a product of the collective unconsciousness. Space worked differently in the Metaverse than it did in the real world, and use of the Warp App allowed the Forces Army to teleport from place to place, taking the city from the inside out.
The Federation was reeling, and while they figured out how to counter the Warp App and halt the threat of a teleporting invading army, the Persona Division was deployed to pull off a miracle in Furutoro.
The main thing on Yusuke's mind was the blood. There was so much, too much, and he could not escape it.
Yusuke backed against the walls of the alleyway. He was in an enclave between first and ninth, trapped in one of the tiny recesses that dotted Furutoro's gridlike city plan. The Forces had struck from the shadows, appearing from thin air in the alleyways and striking, vanishing when anyone got too close to them.
The rest of his squadron was dead. Yusuke was the last person left to complete their mission, and he intended to see it through.
The supersoldier – what the Federation preferred to call the Forces infantry – approached Yusuke at an all too quick pace. He was obviously inexperienced: the supersoldier held a gun, but he had yet to shoot, and they were in an active combat situation. Perhaps he's just cruel, Yusuke thought. The supersoldier had shot his comrades without so much as a thought.
Yusuke hit brick. There was nowhere left to run. He raised his rifle, prepared to make a stand. He would dive to the ground and try to shoot the supersoldier from behind, maybe then he could have a chance at making a mad dash through the city, maybe then….
Red. The supersoldier pulled the trigger, and there was an explosion of smoke and fire, and Yusuke registered a bullet piercing through the wall beside him. This was his chance. He fumbled with the rifle, aligning it horizontally, and squeezed his fingers on the wood.
Red once more. Both soldiers, still unmoved, were struck by the others' fire. Yusuke didn't stop to think about the shrapnel that had pierced his vest: he only acted and pulled the trigger again. The supersoldier fell to the ground with just an ick. Yusuke fired again, and a spurt of blood flowed out of the corpse. Yusuke stopped to the ground, finally feeling the pain in his stomach.
The bullet had hit him on his midriff, just near his belly button. The poker fire metal burned inside of his body, a hot radiation that pulsed and ebbed and flowed. Yusuke squeezed near where it had hit, and it seemed stable. After a moment of hesitation, he gently touched the spot where it had penetrated his skin.
Yusuke almost wanted to laugh. The bullet had barely grazed him. He would be fine.
But he had to keep going.
There was no time to process that he had just committed murder.
No, not murder. It wasn't premediated. That wasn't murder, right?
I am not a murderer. Yusuke was a killer, but not a murderer. He wasn't like the supersoldiers.
Yusuke reached into the pocket of his pants. He had been given a special uniform for this assignment: a bulletproof vest that covered most of his upper body (not that it had done him much good), and a pair of skintight pants with pockets. In his pockets was a cellphone.
It was old, a model from over a century ago. It was quite small, and was made of metal, with a keypad and tiny screen. There was a hard black shell, and it had buttons and a space for a charger. There was no touchscreen.
Yusuke needed to deliver the phone to Goro Akechi, the de facto leader – or at least, the face – of the Persona Division.
The painter-turned-soldier had no idea what was in the phone. When he had asked, his commander had told him nothing, and forbade him from powering the phone on. Yusuke was not one to defy orders from his superior, and so he risked his life for a task he did not understand.
The brunt of his side of the operation was complete. Him and his squadron had been taken by helicopter to the top of a skyscraper in downtown Furutoro. They had skydived, phone in tow, and were about to reach the rendezvous point without complication.
Only, Heizo – Asai Heizo, the youngest member of the squadron, barely in high school – had pulled his parachute a second early. He was blasted out of the sky, and alerted a small band of supersoldiers to their location. Yusuke was the only survivor in his unit of nine.
He had only met them earlier in the day, and he had known that he might not see them again after the day. He had known he might not live past the night.
But their bodies were splayed on the ground, still warm. Yusuke could count the bullets in Heizo's body. They ripped through the vest as if it were cloth – he didn't stand a chance.
Yusuke didn't want to just press on, but as the sole survivor of the confrontation, he was the only chance to complete the mission. Furutoro rested on his shoulders. He turned his back to the bloodshed and began his sprint.
The rendezvous point just ahead: a small apartment on the intersection between third and ninth, almost two blocks away from where he was now. The apartment was home to a veteran who had once served in the Divisons himself, and he was giving shelter to the Persona Division as they awaited his arrival.
Yusuke almost wanted to laugh as he imagined what they were thinking. He was late. What would he say? That he had been held up by a fight for his life?
That's exactly what I'll say.
Yusuke was slowing down now. It was nighttime, and Furutoro was illuminated only by streetlight. Cars were still left on the street, doors flung open, abandoned when the Forces Army began their attack. Now, Yusuke's footsteps echoed. They were the only sound in the vicinity, but Yusuke was prepared for a supersoldier to appear out of thin air and strike.
Just point and shoot, and don't stop running.
The atmosphere seemed eerie. It scared Yusuke, knowing that an enemy could pop out of the darkness at any time and attack. He fell into a rhythm, his feet hitting pavement in a rhythmic succession. Yusuke's breathing deepened. The run was a slow melody, unchanging, repeating over and over until he completed his mission. The burning coal in the side of his stomach screamed for attention, but Yusuke put it out of his mind. He could not slow down.
A nearby scream broke the music. Yusuke tried to continue, but it was too late: he stumbled, and started to fall to the ground. When he regrouped, shuffling to avoid hitting the floor, he could hear the screams continuing. They were so close – Yusuke could sense where they were coming from, in a small shop just to the side of the road.
The cellphone shook in his pocket, begging him not to do this, to continue his mission. The bullet in his stomach echoed the cellphone's wish. Yusuke ran forward and turned to the shop, ignoring both, and tried to see what was happening.
Yusuke noticed the floor to ceiling glass windows first. The lights were off, and the screaming cut off, but he could still make out shadows through the windows. He stepped closer, crouching downward to reduce his profile. What if he was seen?
The screaming stopped, cut off without warning. What happened?
Yusuke's mind conjured the worst. Bullets, blood, murder. Asai Heizo appeared in Yusuke's vision, riddled with holes like a pincushion.
With hands on his rifle, he ran to the glass and kicked the window into a million tiny pieces.
When Yusuke rushed in, the overheard flourescent lights flared to life, and then died almost immediately, winking in and out. The building was a convenience shop, dingy and old. It looked straight out of a movie set. The plaster on the walls was peeling off, and the floors were unwashed. Yusuke noticed specs of grime on the counters, and the shelves – packed with non-perishable food – were covered in dust.
It seemed to be empty.
"Hello?" Yusuke called. His voice rang all too loudly, and no one responded.
The air seemed to hum. Yusuke heard blood roaring in his ears, and he felt the dread of having made a terrible mistake. He pivoted on his heel, and faced a supersoldier aiming a gun at him.
Yusuke didn't have time to react. In an instant, fire erupted from the barrel of the gun, and Yusuke fell to the floor. The supersoldier turned and ran, crashing through the window that was still intact. Yusuke hadn't even seen their face.
He raised his chin, and assessed himself. He could see holes in his uniform where the bullets had punctured: they started at his ribcage, and went down to his stomach, his thighs, ending right below his knee. Each sizzled, screaming for help, screaming for cold and relief.
In the corner of his eye, Yusuke noticed a silver radio on top of a shelf with chips and granola bars. He heard the same scream from before: it emanated from the machine atop the snacks.
The entire store was a trap, a trick, for soldiers like Yusuke. Guerilla warfare at its finest.
Yusuke began his crawl to the front of the store, where the reception counter was. He hoisted himself to a sitting position, careful to avoid worsening the holes inside of his body. He already felt lightheaded, and the pain of the bullets almost dulled. It wasn't a sharpness, but a heat, an ache.
Yusuke took the phone out of his pocket, and squeezed the power button. The screen whirred to life, heating up in his hands. It was an old machine, and Yusuke could hear the fans spinning inside of it. Welcome, the screen said, glowing.
Yusuke began to press buttons at random until he reached the home page. He clicked the arrows downward, navigating to the icon of a phone. He pressed okay, and then inputted the number he'd been given at the beginning of the mission – the famous Goro Akechi's personal line. He was only supposed to call in the event of an emergency, and he was supposed to use a public phone, but this was a crisis.
"Coming in, this is-this is Yusuke Kitigawa."
The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Yusuke kept on repeating himself over and over, praying that eventually, a message would come through. Finally, a dial sounded.
"Yusuke, I hear you. This is Goro Akechi. Can I have your location?"
"Y-yes. I'm in a store on third. I don't know where specifically….I…I think a convenience shop. I am…."
The world began to wink in and out of existence. The sandman that typically resided in dreams came to Yusuke's vision, and he turned Yusuke's eyesight into a swirling haze of dirty colors. He felt very, very tired.
"Yusuke. Yusuke, this is Akechi, can you hear me?"
"I hear you."
"Are you hurt?"
"I-I am, yes."
There was a silence on the phone. Yusuke strained his ears to hear, but he heard nothing through the box. There was a crackle when Akechi spoke again.
"Do you still have the phone?"
"I do."
"Hold tight. Help is on the way."
The call ended. Yusuke was on his own.
Was this what he would die for? Yusuke noticed the hesitation after he admitted he was hurt. If he had not had the phone, would Akechi be coming to help him?
He clutched tightly onto the phone, cradling it like an infant.
I want to be remembered, Yusuke decided. The thought came to him like a dream: sudden, surprising, but now unforgettable. Yusuke knew it would be a bad idea, but with several bullets competing for his pain and attention, he struggled to care.
Yusuke tapped the keypad on his phone, smearing red across the screen. Was that blood? Or just sweat? He navigated to the home again, only this time, he found the camera icon. Yusuke pressed the enter key, and then pointed the cellphone at his face.
"My name is Yusuke Kitigawa. I am a seventeen-year-old soldier for the Federation of the Japanese Archipelago. I am a member of the Archipelago's Ninth Division, and I am currently deployed in a special operation to deliver this cellphone to Goro Akechi of the Persona Division."
There was a crunch. Yusuke had shifted, and a shard of metal – a bullet – had shifted with him. It hit bone.
"Help me," Yusuke whispered into the camera, "I think I am about to die."
And Yusuke began to sob.
"Help me…" he whispered, "Help me, help me, help me…"
The edges of his vision faded. Black began to encroach on what he could see. The fire of the bullets cooled, and was replaced by a horrible numbness, a sense of indifference. It was hollow.
"Help me!" he screamed aloud. "Akechi, come help me!" His voice rang through the store, bouncing on the walls and reverberating out of the shattered window.
"I'm here!" a voice yelled, "I'm right here!"
Yusuke tilted his neck, and came to regret it after only a second. Goro Akechi stood in the hole in the wall.
It was funny: he had never seen Akechi in person, but he was still surprised by how he looked. Everoyne had seen a photo of him somewhere – the Persona Division was mysterious and almost famous, and of them, Akechi was by far the most notorious. But in the photos, Akechi always had a confident grin, and hair gelled to perfection. But the Akechi in front of him had a metal armor over his silver costume, and the gun in his hands was dirty, conveying exhaustion instead of regality.
"Give me the phone," he said. He stalked to Yusuke, and snatched the phone out of his hands. Yusuke squeezed, trying to resist, but his fingers were feeble and Akechi took the device with ease.
Akechi knelt to the ground in front of Yusuke and began to whisper. What could only be described as a blue angel appeared behind him.
It was a birdlike figure, but humanoid in nature. It – no, he, the figure was clearly a man – was clad in silver armor and wore a flowing a sapphire cape. He was kneeling behind Akechi and had a bow of that shimmering gold slung on his back. The figure emanated a blue aura that coated the dimly lit shop in brilliant light.
As Akechi whispered, the angel knight glowed a brighter shade of blue. And then Akechi stopped whispering, and the glowing ended.
"I'm going to die, aren't I?" asked Yusuke. Akechi only nodded.
"Can you…you're part of the Persona Division…can't you use your Persona?"
Akechi grimaced, and the face added a decade to his age. "Robin Hood does not have the healing capabilities I would like."
He was so matter of fact. Yusuke observed the smallest details about him: his uniform was undamaged, albeit dirty. His hair was styled, but the styling was long destroyed. There were bags beneath his eyes.
"Can you do something for me?" Yusuke asked, his voice low. Yusuke didn't know if the sound had passed through his lips, but Akechi was listening attentively, clinging to each motion and sound Yusuke made.
He's guilty, Yusuke realized.
"In my bed, at the barracks…there's a piece of a-art in a canvas. It's wrapped. Frame it somewhere, will you? It's…"
Yusuke coughed, and found words again. "It's very important to me."
"Of course," Akechi said, "Is there anything else I can do?"
"No…just…just promise me, ok?"
"I promise."
Akechi began to say more, but the movement of his lips blurred into nothingness. After a moment, he stood and turned around, turning his attention to the cellphone.
Yusuke turned his head to the left, and then to the right, and to the left once more.
His head hit the floor.
Days later, in a faraway office, a statistician added a number to the death rate in the Invasion of Furutoro.
