Chapter Thirty One: Instrumentality Mutterings
There is no practice or discipline exempt from the rule. Everything begins with one step through the veil. Confidence is attained through a certain degree of courage. Unitiated become neophyte; practitioner become proficient. And the earliest prospects of mastery are but a fool's dream.
Each of the Phantom Thieves was compelled to take that first step through a scream of resolve, a waking burst of rebellion. Purpose and survival led them through a gradual dominion of their Personas, slowly becoming familiar to their nuances, their strengths and their weaknesses – all extensions of their own selves. A second awakening marked the point insurmountable challenges became conquerable. But for one of the Phantom Thieves, the art of a Persona was a road of constant trouble, of countless stumbles and heaping new obstacles.
Such was the trick to the Wild Card's power. Infinite potential at a price: the never-ending search for comprehension beyond his own self. Despite his devious, cocky demeanour, Joker never lost sight of the basics. He realised every single human being was a world of their own; the tiniest of differences contained unfathomable depths. By reaching out to others, by understanding another soul, he could conjure virtually any Persona. And the process was no less daunting on the hundredth day than on the first.
In the heat of battle, Queen was forced to make hasty use of this same potential. She improvised, faced success and failure, gained new masks and endured vicious backlash. If Anat's powers failed to penetrate into the enemy's defences, another mask would do. But changing her Persona took a little out of her every time.
In between the resistance she and her friends were facing, her increasing exhaustion, and the menace that led them to this place, she had no time to wonder why she was now able to acquire new Personas. Regardless of all unknown factors, something seemed very likely. The strange brood of Shadows that swarmed them began to multiply. Unless Lavenza found the way forward within the next few minutes, she may soon fall in battle.
One more Shadow fell at her feet, and her vision was little more than a blur of dark hues. The grace of her battle-honed instincts was the only thing keeping her ready for another attack. She suddenly sensed another presence coming her way; it was quick and direct like a bullet. But neither her own fists, nor Anat's went up in resistance. Another second passed, and she could see no longer, but she knew it was Akira.
"You're driving yourself thin." He grunted as he intercepted a Shadow dashing in. "Take it down a notch, Queen."
"It's not like you haven't done this before." A break in Makoto's voice betrayed her own exhaustion.
"Never on my first time, or this quick!" Arsene's wings shielded them both from an enemy strike, gaining room for a counterattack. "You're not looking well."
"I'll be fine." She said. Her voice echoed with grit and confidence, as on many different occasions. For that moment, Akira believed she truly would rise tall from her wear and tear and decimate all.
But not a moment later, Makoto collapsed. Anat vanished in a dying flame. Her fists crudely broke her fall, cracking the floor beneath.
"Makoto!"
"Akira… I… I can't see!" The young woman shouted in frustration. "And these voices… they're too many, too loud!"
"Damn it. Those are your Personas, I take it. Sometimes they are a bit… rowdy when they join." Akira helped her up, holding her close as they groped their way to an alcove a few metres away. "My senses would occasionally react badly. It should pass soon." Akira somehow managed to keep his increasing concern from Makoto's ears. Though he spoke true on his experience, he had never recruited this many Personas in such short time. There was a dreaded possibility that Makoto may not recover so quickly.
This was not something she needed to hear in this moment. Once they found temporary refuge from the battle, he encouraged her to breath slowly in order to regain her footing – this was something she occasionally helped him with in the past, during exercise sessions together. But the security she possessed then was entirely absent now. She was angry, and powerless, even if for only a moment.
After a few seconds, she attempted to ease down. But the sound of the air slowly exiting her lungs gave way to a hiss in her voice.
"…. Why now?"
"Makoto?"
"Why is this happening to me now?" The team's second-in-command felt ridiculed by the turn of events. What good was a power like this if it would render her unable to fight? In her mind's eye, she replicated the look of her boyfriend smiling at her as she exhibited the same power as he. The rest of their friends began to notice afterwards, one by one. And each of them provided their own version of Joker's pleased surprise. In between then and now, Makoto Niijima did not care about understanding why she had this ability. All she cared about was using this power to make their job easier.
The last thing she did before falling was clear out a bulwark of Shadows. Now she was rendered unable to pose any proper resistance. She felt toothless. She felt useless.
"Why…?"
"Because it's your first time." Akira said firmly. "You didn't know this could happen. And I didn't warn you it could." He sighed. "I'm very sorry, Makoto… I haven't been such an effective leader lately. It's long time I got my act together."
"What?" She felt Joker standing up.
"You've always picked up the slack when I'm lacking." The flames around Arsene rekindled to the crack of Akira's back muscles. "I remember every single time, you know? I'm grateful for it. Queen, allow me now… to reciprocate."
A tide of pressure crashed against the walls of his mind. The stakes were no lighter when they came into this strange place between Velvet Rooms. Two of his friends guarded Lavenza as she scrutinised through every nook and cranny, searching the way forward. The rest, including Makoto and he, were tasked with drawing the enemy's attention, spreading them thin to keep Lavenza untouched. They seemed fresh enough still. But how long could they keep repelling the accumulating Shadows?
Sooner or later, the possibility of being overwhelmed would loom over their heads, even with Oracle's support above.
And now, with Queen incapacitated, it no longer sufficed to simply put up a stable defence.
Joker breathed deep, with Arsene at his back. He took one step forward, away from the alcove and Queen. The footfall against the floor was deliberately firm, as if burdening his own centre of gravity against the entirety of this non-place. He looked inward for something more than gritty resolve; he reached for old confidence. Only this would make the difference he sought.
Akira Kurusu counted his blessings. Ryuji and the others still had a lot of fight to give. Makoto was safe behind him. And somehow, there was no sign of Nyarlathotep's reach in this place.
One more step. A small cluster of Shadows drew near. Arsene could likely make quick work of them, but that is not what Joker had in mind. With the peculiar exception of Satanael, he could summon any Persona he had acquired in the past from memory alone. But this was taxing, and Akira was already drained from Nyarlathotep's constant hold. The solution was clear to him: he needed to re-fashion the battlefield to his own strengths. Rather than force a new mask out of his psyche to attack, he would earn them out of these Shadows.
Moderate bursts of Arsene's black magic did the trick against these weak forms. But the true weapon at Joker's disposal was his silver tongue. In the ensuing moments, as the Shadows crept towards Akira and Makoto, Joker intimidated, cajoled, and even flirted his way into gaining new Personas. Some of these were familiar to him; others were entirely new beings.
This improvised repertoire was far from the impressive arsenal he once had, but it sufficed to repel the encroaching Shadows. Through it all, Joker paced himself with nigh obsessive thought. He struck only if negotiations failed, and thus he weighed every single word during his communion with the Shadows.
If he were to fall now, the balance of their stratagem would be compromised.
Akira no longer looked at Lavenza as he handled this portion of the battlefield. His trust in the little attendant would do. Whatever thought or reaction unfolded in his mind was devoted to one single intention.
Hold the line.
Meanwhile, somewhere, in a corner hidden from view, the walls and the floor slowly began to vanish.
[ ]
Tokyo.
This was a place he never truly set foot in until now, yet he knew it like the palm of his hand.
Kawasaki.
He was not born here, but every sight murmured childhood fancies and memories.
There was a considerable physical distance between the two places, but he capriciously travels between them at the speed of thought. Incorporeally, not truly in the world, but able to perceive it all the same.
Joker was a knight of chaos in every world, continuity or paradigm. In the perverse tradition of his design, his hand was forever bound to his master's intent, whether the Joker knew it or not. But even the latest iteration shared a distinct characteristic with Nyarlathotep's plaything: he got easily bored.
This is why 'Joker' took a stroll outside of Nyarlathotep's domain.
He shared the same knowledge as Akira Kurusu, up until the moment of his awakening. But this Joker's psyche was fashioned much differently; it was grotesquely bent out of shape, distorted to the point of being unhinged beyond remedy. His thoughts were his own, and he possessed no inherent wish to aid Nyarlathotep. But acting upon his designed nature would aid his Master regardless. This Joker lusted for destruction, and Nyarlathotep would provide him with plenty of 'materials'.
But that would take time. At present, 'Joker' could not yet walk tangibly in the world. For him to be able to manifest fully, he would need another final encounter with Akira Kurusu – once he was eliminated, the world would become the 'Joker's sandbox to do as he would. That was what Nyarlathotep said. For now, all he could do outside was wander like a ghost, unseen and unmarked. But that is not to say he cast no influence himself.
Wherever he roamed, people would turn their heads, thinking they saw a strange shadow passing them on the corner of the eye. A few unlucky ones experienced other things; an unprovoked impulse to pick a fight, an inexplicable temporary desire to harm those they held dear, or a crippling, sudden wave of sorrow out of nowhere.
A wide grin shimmered beneath the mask at the realisation of the countless ways 'Joker' could cause mayhem once his time came. It was tempting to unleash misfortune with no rhyme or reason, but he was greatly appealed by the notion of deliberate, wilful work. This was the reason he ventured past the red curtains into a world ill prepared for his presence. Every place that Akira Kurusu set foot on was a fresh trail for 'Joker' to follow. And at the end, there was always someone whom he had a connection with. The predator that wore Akira's face relished on the thought of forcefully severing each bond.
His time would come, to bring the night that initiated his existence to its natural consequences…
Meanwhile, this unearthly presence visited every person Akira Kurusu knew, starting with his mother. Masako Kurusu was hard at work at the hospital as usual. She would return home later that evening with the vague sensation that none of the patients she looked after would live to see tomorrow. This would be proven wrong, but the feeling was very real for as long as it lasted. 'Joker' then paid Takahisa a visit while he worked at the pier, loading the fishers' bounty to be shipped. Despite reconciling with his son, the man's evening smoke would be invaded by the overwhelming sensation that he had failed his son, and that true forgiveness was unattainable for him.
Looking out to sea from the ship's railing, Takahisa wept bitterly. And not even the burn of the cigarette extinguished in his palm could kill this pain.
'Joker' left Kawasaki with a spiteful look in his eyes.
Few of the people he visited in Tokyo felt the ripples caused by his non-presence. Most of them seemed particularly occupied one way or another, like they were all desperately pursuing some end. Despite his broken mind, this Joker confidently guessed that they were united in an effort to help Akira and his friends. He experienced mocking contempt at their daring to think anything they did would matter in the slightest. For their gall, he would ensure they perished contorted and unforgiven.
Especially the silver-haired woman. Sae Niijima.
'Joker' did not understand why. But he could not look on her as he did everybody else. He detested her, but the reason escaped him. The animosity did not follow a relation of cause and consequence, or at least not in a way he could see or understand. He only felt it, like something compressing inside of him, warping, forcing him to mend a fragmented picture in his mind. This sudden, unexpected loathing caused him to return to Nyarlathotep's domain, dragging a sentiment of powerlessness and defeat behind him.
He silently vowed to make this boundless scorn manifest in due time.
[ ]
"I've found it!" Lavenza's voice made everyone turn their heads. A tiny, blue light shimmered just below her hand in the middle of a bookcase row on the wall. The little attendant hastily pulled books out to clear the way forward. But despite her efforts, the path was still buried deeper than it seemed. Behind countless books of forgotten knowledge lay older tomes that barely held together, crumbling to dust at her touch.
Still the light of the Velvet Room peered out like a beacon. Little by little, the song they knew so well was stripped from its distortion.
"I think we're close!" Skull yelled out loud enthusiastically as Seiten Taisei fried another Shadow with thunder.
She frantically dug into the bookcase, revealing a little more of the blue light with every motion.
"Keep going, Lavenza! The Shadows shall not pass!" Noir exclaimed, slightly inebriated by the fierce joy of battle as her Persona kept the perimeter clear from the incoming Shadows. But every time Astarte blasted one apart, two more seemed to take its place.
"Mona! Panther! Fox! Oracle!" Joker called out loud. "Start gathering around Skull and Noir! We'll join you in a bit!" Akira began to turn to Makoto, but his perspective violently shifted before he could find her.
It took him a couple of seconds to start working out what occurred. He was on his back, and his left leg was pinned against the ground. There was dull pain on his side. A Shadow began to stand from the reckless pounce that knocked Joker down. The blue light of the path shone through thin strips of darkness by his head, just centimetres away from the balcony's edge. He realised how far his body slid from the Shadow's surprise attack, and how another, shaped like a grotesque snow creature, seized the chance to finish him off by pinning him against the ground.
Despite the obvious disadvantage, it was only a temporary one.
"Fenrir!" Akira called forth a Persona he acquired only a few minutes ago, quickly dispatching the Shadow keeping him down. Despite the pain on his side, Joker stood back up prepared to remove the coming threat of his initial attacker to then fetch Makoto and join the others.
But he did not expect the Shadow that pounced him to be formed in such hideous, voluminous manner. It was a serpent-like creature with disturbingly large eyes, ashen white mane, and bat wings on the side of its head; its bulk was large enough to occupy most of the passage. It twitched and heaved sickly as it approached, too quickly for Joker to pose as effective a counterattack like he intended. The Shadow's speed in spite of its bulk, and its ability to sneak up on Joker were only a hint of even more menacing capabilities.
This was certainly unlike anything he faced before on his own. His chances would look better if not for his current state, but there was no wasting time dwelling. Joker braced himself for impact.
"Morrigan!" He heard a fond, familiar voice.
Akira barely blinked at all. But the interception occurred too fast for him to register. He stood frozen in his spot for a second afterwards, experiencing only a remnant of a gust. All he knew was that a winged woman clad in black armour gored the Shadow before it even touched him. The serpent-like creature had no eyes for Akira; its attention was fully on this blackbird nuisance – one of the Personas Makoto acquired during this impromptu first ride as a Wild Card.
Then his eyes found her. She was slouching, panting heavily, but standing. Queen was back in action.
They nodded at each other in tacit agreement. The song of the Velvet Room sounded perfectly clear, which meant it was only a matter of seconds before the way forward was open. Delaying the advance was tempting fate for enemies as menacing as this to join the fray. Akira and Makoto stood on the balcony across from Lavenza and the rest. The objective was clear. They only had one very significant obstacle in front of them, a gargantuan serpent that shrugged off Anat's nuclear fire and Arsene's black magic – Queen and Joker's weapons of choice.
The path was finally open. There was no negotiation possible with this Shadow. They needed to slay the beast.
Joker changed from Fenrir to another recent recruit: Tokisada, the beheaded swordsman. By land and air, the Phantom Thieves' leaders began their attack. The encounter was brief, but violent. The serpentine Shadow stood no chance against Tokisada's sword and Morrigan's spear. In the end, it became little more than pin cushion, expelling black smoke out of every carving.
The Shadow perished, but it was not the only thing that vanished.
As the blue light of the pathway flooded over the dark, swampy green, the surfaces of bookshelves, railings, and the floor itself began to fade. They were not being swallowed by the dark; they were merely ceasing to exist.
"Guys, you need to get over here! RIGHT NOW!" Oracle yelled.
"Damn it. Let's go!" Joker grabbed Makoto's wrist, and they sprinted towards the balcony across from them, dodging and jumping over wayward Shadows, driven wild.
"Hurry, damn it!" Mona shouted.
"Lavenza, lead them on! We'll catch up!" Queen commanded just over ten metres away.
The girl looked hesitant for a moment, but complied soon enough. One by one, the Phantom Thieves followed Lavenza into a hole in the middle of the bookcase. Ryuji stayed behind to yank them in. This position allowed him to witness the unmaking of the library in the middle of nowhere. Joker and Queen eluded its reach too closely at every step.
"Here!" Skull reached out, grabbing Joker's hand and pulling him into the passageway, with Queen in tow.
But for a moment, what the three heard was not the song of the Velvet Room, but a cacophony of multiple voices, all different and distant, like sounds borne worlds away.
"The Ambassador has launched the ICBMs!"
"What is it that people seek? To create a millennial kingdom of order rules over by God as promised by the Messiah? Or the destruction of God's kingdom, and with it, the birth of a world of chaos?"
"Was this all… just a dream…? A nightmare…? No… it was a good dream... Goodbye."
"Death upon death… nothing but death in this barren land. Who can we pray to? There are only demons and fiends here…"
"We, the ones cast into darkness, shall face those that live in the light…"
"I'm doing much better. I think I'm ready to leave the hospital pretty soon."
"…. I… I am defeated… I… I… No! It's not fair…"
"No one can escape time; it delivers us all to the same end. You can't plug your ears and cover your eyes."
"I am the shadow of humanity. As long as there is darkness in your hearts, I'll never go away! Behold the Crawling Chaos' final ordeal!"
Every voice they heard came from a different heart. Some rang with rapturous conviction, others with defeat and sorrow. Some were young, and others old. But one in particular they recognised with grim sobriety. It belonged to Nyarlathotep. It echoed with the same intonation of vile triumph they came to know so harrowingly. Yet, as its dark pitch faded, a series of voices followed in stark contrast, like a chiaroscuro of despair and hope.
"Heh, you know what? I'm glad we met again. Next time, you're gonna join my band. Got that? It's a promise. Don't forget."
"Chinyan, remember me, no matter what. I love you!"
"I won't forget, not my sin, not you. Not anyone. We'll meet again, and together… we'll save Maya. So, I won't say goodbye, only… thank you."
"Guys, don't go… Don't leave me alone."
And then, silence and the darkness of the hollow. Akira, Makoto, and Ryuji lingered on the edge between existence and the vast nothing.
"What the fuck was that?!" Ryuji said all of a sudden.
"… There's no way to know. Come. The others must be waiting." Akira said sombrely.
Makoto stayed silent, unable to get the linger of one voice out of her head. But it was not Nyarlathotep's voice she struggled with purging.
It did not take long for the three to catch up with the rest. In their faces, Joker saw the truest relief that they all made it safely. Despite what he heard, he could do nothing but smile at them, for the feeling was mutual. Nobody wasted even a word. Lavenza led all eight towards the other end of the azure path, ending in a plain-looking door, before which the song sounded loud, but muffled.
But rather than pulling or pushing, Lavenza bashfully knocked on the door. The rapping of her knuckles against the unassuming surface barely seemed to produce a sound.
"Are you alright?" Ann said, patiently placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.
Lavenza gave no immediate answer. But it was clear that she was not. She took a deep breath and placed her hand on the knob, but she would not turn her wrist. Her lower lip trembled with fearful anticipation, as if fully knowing what was on the other side. By the way she expressed it before, this would not be just any Velvet Room.
Akira approached her placed his hand over hers, and together, they slowly turned the doorknob and pushed open.
The scenery before them was no less blue than most they had seen so far. It was a lounge, and not a particularly unique one by itself. There was a stage, and several tables spread about. But what marked this place as their definite goal was the fact that they were not alone. Seated at one of the tables, the Phantom Thieves saw several people, all dressed in blue, pale and yellow-eyed as Lavenza.
There was a slender young woman with a whimsical look on her face. Next to her was a slightly older-looking woman who radiated a mature kind of beauty. On the other end of the table was a young man with a slightly naïve-looking expression. And behind them stood the one oldest in appearance, cane in hand, a jaded shadow beneath his eyes.
Just below the stage, there was a man with long, black hair and dark shades. He smoked a cigarette while apparently adjusting the positioning of an easel.
On the stage, two people. A blindfolded man playing the piano, and a woman singing soprano at his side.
They performed a song to your soul and mine.
The arrival to this place caused no small surprise to the Phantom Thieves, but nobody could bring themselves to utter a word.
Except for the performers on stage, and the painter, all eyes were on them and Lavenza. These faces were new, but they regarded them with the familiarity of a fond relative. And even though Akira and his friends never set foot in this configuration before, they felt safe now - for the first time since this began. But there was no true peace to be hand in the composition, for it still missed one important figure.
It still missed Igor.
Lavenza ran weeping towards her siblings, throwing herself into the irreverent looking one, hugging her with the spirit of one sorely missed for years. The whimsical one, in turn, held Lavenza tightly, whispering "there, there" into Lavenza's ear.
Author's notes: Longtime SMT fans may find a few of the "mutterings" familiar. My primary goal with them was appealing to nostalgia, but there definitely is more to it than that.
