I think I hate myself because now I'm dabbling in P3 ending oneshots. Yeah. As if the ending itself is not bad enough.

Anyways! Warning for this chapter!

Triggers, traumatic experiences and bad luck. Again, sorry about Makoto, but this isn't going to be the last time something of this nature will happen to him.

Eh. I'm sure he'll be fine.

Then, onwards!


Chapter Six: Awakening

That night, neither of them catch a wink of sleep.

Even if it's short, the reappearance of the Dark Hour means that something big had happened – as big as the arrival of Death, no less – and that the whole damn world is affected by it.

And frankly, Makoto is scared.

He knows that he had been given a chance to live, in exchange for completing another Fool's Journey. He knows it, and he accepts it. Even so, nothing could prepare him properly for another Dark Hour.

Not even Ryoji by his side.

He wakes up before his alarm blare and decides to turn the alarm off. He looks over to the other bed to see Ryoji looking straight at him, his face indicating that he's thinking the same thing Makoto is. They're scared – that's all there is to it, really.

But being afraid doesn't mean that he won't have the courage to fight it.

So he gets up, grabs a bottle of water, and looks at his phone. He looks up then says, a little quieter than usual. "Do you want to enter this Metaverse thing today?"

"Sure," Ryoji nods, getting up. He stretches and yawns. "Might as well. You sure you're good enough to go?"

"Not going would make me feel shittier," Makoto replies with a sigh. There are dull aches all over his body, but it's nothing he can't handle. "Dammit, and here I thought the Dark Hour business is over, too."

"Same," Ryoji says in agreement, his eyes casting downward. Then he looks up a little, brows furrowed. "You gotta stay close to me, though. Since you don't have an Evoker and all."

"Oh shit," He says in horrid realization. Fuck, he just realizes that he needs an Evoker to call his Personas. Wait, then how did those guys use their Personas? "Then how did they use theirs?"

"No idea," Ryoji says with an apologetic look. "My guess is, the answer's in the Metaverse. If you can't then it's gonna suck a lot."

"…Yeah."

"Where's your Evoker now, anyway? Recalled to the Kirijou Group's lab?" Ryoji inquires as he gets dress. Makoto doesn't really care, since he's seen Ryoji buck naked before (curse you, Kyoto bath).

"Probably. Or maybe someone kept it as a memento. Or maybe it's with the fishes in the ocean right now," Makoto mutters, fingers rubbing his chin. Investigating with Ryoji is going to be fine, but without an Evoker he's going to be a burden –

"Don't even begin to think you're a burden, Makoto," Ryoji chides, flicking his forehead. Makoto lets out an ow as he rubs the sore spot. "You're not useless without one. You're me, and I'm you, remember?"

Oh, that's right. I am Thou, Thou art I.

"By the way," Makoto asks, a little pensive. "What form would you… take?"

"Thanatos, of course," He replies with a small shrug. "While the Death form and the Nyx Avatar… thing are one of my appearances, I've always preferred Thanatos. I feel closer to you that way. Not to mention I'm your strongest Persona, so there's that, too."

"Feel closer to me?" Makoto actually feels nice when Ryoji says that… and it also feels weird and kinda gay, so he comments with a chuckle. "If I had been gay, I would've fallen for you right here."

The other splutters, and that makes him laugh harder. "Makoto, why."

"Sorry, I can't help it," He says, wiping the tears off his eyes. After a while, he murmurs, with a solemn face. "We do need allies in this endeavour, though. But…"

"…Involving them in Erebus' business is just cruel," He finishes for Makoto. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

To that, Makoto can say nothing.


Once they properly prepare themselves, they walk to a nearby shrine, where traffic and people are near non-existence.

Makoto brings out his phone, finger nervously hovering over the icon that screams touch me!

And that is exactly what he does.

The world shifts and changes, sounds of car horns and distant wind turn into eerie silence, save for occasional sounds of growls and scratching and who knows what. The moon turns sick yellow-green, the sky black, and the whole world in a darker shade.

"This is like a horror movie," Makoto finally says, putting his phone in his pocket. Ryoji hums in agreement, his blue eyes darting around. "…you're not obligated to change form?"

"I think so, but hey, that's a good thing, isn't it?" He says with a smile, slinging his arm on Makoto's left shoulder. "Thanatos is cumbersome anyway. As long as we don't run into anything weird or wild, I think we'll be good."

"Don't jinx it," Makoto says half-seriously. He just can't stop feeling this nagging at the back of his mind, and his head seems a bit heavier than usual. He blinks the odd feelings away and inhales, then immediately recoils. "Ugh, what a stench…!"

"Smells like death," Ryoji says after taking a whiff. "We should tread carefully."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Makoto nods as they start walking.

.

Somehow, this Metaverse looks almost exactly the same as the real world.

Almost being the keyword.

Some buildings look normal, albeit with the sickening green tints. But some buildings have this… grotesque overgrowth of flesh clinging to them, pulsating and emitting a stench so repulsive Makoto did throw up once. The fleshy extensions themselves look like they're straight out of some Cthulhu mythology, arms and legs and eyes bulging and creaking and groaning.

Even Ryoji couldn't keep his face straight at the sight.

Makoto lets Ryoji leads, as the other seems to have a hunch about where they should first investigate. The other explains that the place with abnormal changes seem to be linked to place with high concentration of negative emotions (and by extensions, Shadows), so he's just cautiously leading them to where he feels is most foul.

And then they arrive at a subway entrance.

"Whoa," Makoto voices as he descends the stairs, eyes looking at the twisting tunnels and ears catching the unearthly voices emitted from within the dark. "This place feels even worse than Tartarus."

"Much worse," Ryoji agrees, nose scrunched up slightly. "God, it stinks."

"It has this… feeling… to it," Makoto begins, fingers brushing his head as he feels a little nauseous. "No good, this place's seriously no good at all."

"Then I guess this is where we start, huh?"

"Yeah," Makoto nods, stopping beside Ryoji, and in front of a big gate. He looks up and reluctantly puts his hand on it.

The gate immediately creaks open, fouler smell invading his senses, and it takes everything Makoto has not to bend down and lets all of his lunch out of his mouth. Ryoji puts his arm over his lower face as he squints, trying to see beyond the black mists.

"Stay close, Makoto," Ryoji orders.

Makoto nods as he walks a little closer to the taller boy. The odd scratching inside his skull gets a bit louder, but he pays it no mind. What's worse is the fact that the atmosphere and the smell worsen his already queasy feeling he's had in his guts.

Noxious fumes blanket the entire area, and beyond the darkness there's nothing but maddening whispers and sounds of metal against metal. Makoto frowns as he looks around, fingers twitching, as if he's trying to fire a non-existing gun.

He exhales, slowing his breath, and slaps his cheeks once. Ryoji turns to look at him.

"What did you do?"

"Centering myself," He responds. "I can't believe I'm getting anxious, even though I should be used to shit like this by now."

"I don't think anyone from Iwatodai dorm is going to fare any better," Ryoji says, stopping Makoto with a hand motion. "Quiet down a bit. Shadow."

He leans over the corner to take a peek.

The damn thing he wishes never to see again comes crawling along the train track, angry blue mask on its face, its formless sludge of a body being dragged along by numerous, equally formless limbs. They wait for what feel like forever for it to pass.

When it did, Makoto releases the breath he hasn't realized he'd been holding.

"You good?" Ryoji asks, turning to him slightly.

"Yeah," He sniffs. Damnit, he's being a fucking burden, he knows that — if Ryoji had been alone, he doubts a mere formless Shadow would have been a problem. Hell, this investigation is going so slowly because he is stuck protecting Makoto, and he hates that. He absolutely despises that—

"Makoto," Ryoji says, voice firm.

Makoto looks up, frowning. "What?"

"I'm your shadow, and you're my light," He says, a hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed that Makoto is blaming himself, isn't he? Perceptive bastard.

"What's that supposed to be, a pick-up line?" He says with a snort.

Ryoji simply laughs. "I wish. But in all seriousness, I mean it. I'm Death. Darkness. Your darkness, your shadow. And you are my other self, my light. You keep us balance. don't forget that."

Life and death. Light and Dark. Balance, huh…?

"Fine," He says, scratching his cheek. "When you put it that way, I can't find it in me to refuse."

Ryoji grins, before he leads them deeper.

.

He's beginning to notice a certain pattern here.

Every step, and he means every step, he takes, the nauseating feeling in his stomach and the scratching in his head get progressively worse.

It's only thanks to his passive face that Ryoji hasn't noticed this yet.

The further they go, the more oppressive the air feels, and the more Shadows await them. Ryoji gets tenser, and Makoto more agitated, as they venture deeper.

A part of him is screaming at him to go back, to leave, before something bad happens. He fights the urge to turn tail and run, because they need to do this. They need to find out what in the hell happened that cause the reappearance of the Dark Hour (well, they actually know what causes it, but not how) and put a stop to that as soon as possible.

He feels hot, like he's burning inside. Beads of sweat roll down his face as he keeps close to Ryoji, his breathing a bit forced, his mind running a mile a minute. The tingling feeling in his arms and legs get ramped up by a lot, and right now he's feeling like his limbs are submerged in iced water.

And then Ryoji stops. "Makoto. Look."

He wishes he hasn't.

There's an altar of sort – Shadows gather around it; heads bow down in reverence. The thing sitting atop it could only be described as a beating heart. But the heart has abnormal growths on it, twisting flesh and charred muscles. Instead of blood vessels, the thing sports tube-like structures, black in color with blue blood-like liquid flowing from within.

The pulsating heart suddenly becomes the centre of his attention. Everything around him is just… gone. He's alone, standing in the endless dark, with the heart right before him. He tries to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't.

Screeches fill his head, and he falls to the ground, hands pulling at his hair, trying to stop the noises.

I'll kill you I'll kill you I'll kill you I'll kill you I'LL KILL YOU –

"Makoto!"

His breath hitches as he looks up, the dark landscape gone. Ryoji's standing before him, arms outstretch. He's shielding him, Makoto's mind supplies.

He pants, sweats forming and dropping from his forehead. His eyes try to focus, but all they see are Ryoji's back as he fends off one Shadow after another.

Ryoji is saying something, but his ears can't pick it up. All he could hear is the repetition of the words I'll kill you by some unknown being at the recess of his head. He wills his mind to forget that and focus – Ryoji's in danger, and he can't just stay there and do nothing

He won't lose anyone else. Not again.

It seems you have made up your mind, little one.

Mind-shattering headache. He curls into himself, hands gripping his head tight as if it would reduce the pain. He's silently screaming. Voices from above him, but he can't make it out.

Footsteps. He hears Ryoji call out his name. Worry. Fear.

He swore an oath to be your shadow. What will you do?

He gasps, one hand finding the concrete beneath him and he tears at it. Blood blooming at his fingertips.

He doesn't care.

Will you let him fight alone?

No.

He won't.

He won't let Ryoji down anymore. He had helped Makoto more times than he could count, and he hadn't been able to repay it once. He won't let it stay that way forever. He can't.

Then let us form a pact.

He pulls himself up a little to see a light blue feather in his grasp. There's a tint of black in the stem, but the bluish glow covers the blemish perfectly.

The Plume of Dusk, Makoto's mind seems to say. The core of an Evoker.

But it's supposed to be pure in colour with no blemish. A tiny voice in his head cautions.

He doesn't care.

And then, the blue light glows brighter. Lines of silver write themselves in his palm, shifting, changing, drawing themselves into a familiar shape.

There's an uncharacteristic grin on his face, Makoto could feel it. He does what his instinct is screaming at him to do, and put the thing in his hand to his temple. There's a trigger beneath his finger, and then there's the weight he's had in his hands so many times before in his palm.

I am Thou, Thou art I.

The oath resonates in his mind. He stands up, unsure on his feet.

He doesn't care.

Set thy soul alight, and let it burn, bright as the Sun.

Call mine name, and purify this Darkness before thee!

The word forms in his mouth. The strange word he has never heard before.

He doesn't care.

He wants this power.

He needs it.

"Come, Ifrit!"

He pulls the trigger.


Sound of shattering glasses overpowers the moans of the Shadows.

Ryoji turns back to see Makoto standing there, eyes bright blue, a grin of insanity on his face. A silver gun he had put to his temple releases a trail of smoke as blue flame rises from around him, the shattered glass shards rising and forming into a being above.

Red humanoid monster rises from the flame, its body made from dark crimson steel strips, its clawed hands and legs covered in flame. Scarf-like structure covers its mandible, split in half like an insect. The inside of its maws had been replaced by tongue of orange blaze. The horns curved upward, eyes hollow, flickers of red shining from within.

Its chest is left open, a miniature sun in place of a heart.

Flickers of orange flame is tainted with black.

Ryoji heard its name when Makoto said it. A name of a Persona he had never heard of before. But he could feel it, that this Persona is of the Fool Arcana.

And then, he hears its voice.

I am Ifrit, Spirit of the Flame.

Ifrit lets out an ear-splitting roar. Its flame brightens, and engulfs everything in sight.

When the light dies down, Ryoji blinks away the flashes in his eyes, only to see nothing but charred ground and blackened walls. Only he and Makoto remain unaffected by the light.

He looks up to see Ifrit, its eyes conveying something unbeknownst to him, then it dissipates into blue smokes, the departure of its flame re-inviting the oppressing darkness back around them. Ryoji' eyes travel back down to see Makoto swaying on his feet. The boy takes a few steps forward and falls into him.

"Makoto," He says, stabilizing Makoto. "What was that? Are you okay?"

"I…" He begins, eyes glazed over. The shorter boy blinks slowly, free hand gripping Ryoji's shirt as his legs seem to lose their strengths. "You were… I have to… help…"

"And you did," He reassures, keeping Makoto up the best he could. He can still hear the distant groans of the Shadows deeper in the cavern. "You saved me, Makoto. Now let's go before more show up."

"Okay," The boy whispers against his chest.

Ryoji looks down at his hand, still clutching the suspicious Evoker that appeared out of thin air. He looks at Makoto, who's already half-unconscious, and at the Evoker again. A feeling of dread crawls down his spine.

He turns around. The altar and the heart are gone, too.

He doesn't like this one bit.


He dreams. Of the Velvet Room. Of Ifrit, red eyes boring into his soul.

A lick of darkness from underneath.

The Velvet Room seems… strange. Contorted. Distant. Darkened.

There's a whisper, of a malevolent voice. He turns around, but nothing is there.

"To think it'd be able to do this much. I've miscalculated."

Another voice. Someone's, probably Igor's. He's trying to reach Makoto. But something's blocking him.

"This Journey has become dangerous. You mustn't —"

Something snaps.

He wakes with a start.

"Makoto!" Ryoji calls his name. A hand on his forehead, another on his shoulder. He slowly blinks, trying to adjust to the room. His head spins, skin ice-cold. His throat is burning.

His eyes find Ryoji's. Relief floods sapphire eyes as Ryoji smiles. Makoto sits up, his muscles groaning in protest. There's fire in his chest. He ignores it.

Firm hands keep him from tilting forward, fingers squeezing his arms reassuringly. He blinks again, then swallows the lump in his throat. His thoughts are disjointed. Memories are pieces and scraps on the floor. He only remembers the name.

Ifrit.

"What—" He says, but as soon as the word leaves his mouth he begins to cough.

"Calm down, Makoto," Ryoji says, hands cupping his cheeks. His breaths are ragged and quickened. He slows them down. Ryoji nods. "Good. Good. Breathe in, count to four. Breathe out, count to four."

One. Two. Three. Four.

"Makoto," He says his name again, a bit louder. "Try not to think too much. A lot had happened. Your psyche is still weak, so rest for a bit, okay?"

He remembers the gun. Pulling the trigger. Sounds of shattering glasses.

The pulsating Heart. The repeated words in the back of his head.

He gasps.

His hands on his face, eyes blurred. He tries to breathe. Ryoji's hands grab his shoulders and forces him to look. Anxious. Afraid.

His hands on his chest. Clawing. Tearing. Warmness under his fingertips

The grips tighten.

Makoto blinks again.

Ryoji looks like he's about to cry. "Please. Just rest. We're safe, Makoto. We're safe."

He finds himself nodding.


"Welcome back."

It's the first thing Igor says when he wakes up to the elevator. Elizabeth looks… worried? Igor's face is grim, his usual smile stretching less than normal.

He frowns, but says nothing as Igor shows him the Arcana of the Fool and the Universe.

"You've awoken to a power that comes from the Fool and the Universe." He says. "Belonging to Two Arcanas — of the Universe in particular, signifies that this power comes from both without and within. The light, the spirit of flame, Ifrit."

He nods, remembering the name. His memories from his summoning is hazy, at best. Thinking on it for too long makes his head spin. But he frowns at the phrase that its power comes from without and within. What does that mean…?

"Your bonds, old and new, give power to your Personas," Igor continues, showing all twenty-two Arcana cards before him. The Universe — number XXI — sits in the middle. "You, who have been blessed and cursed with a second life, have already been gifted with unbreakable bonds that transcend time and space itself. This time, those bonds will help you discover the true power you hold within."

That's… going to be the best explanation he's going to get.

He's then assaulted by another wave of pain. He grits his teeth and tries to will it away. But the longer he tries to think, the worse the pain gets, sharp cuts inside his skull and inhuman hisses in his ears.

"Be careful, Makoto-san," Igor says after a pause. He looks up, confused.

"What do you… mean?" He asks, his voice broken.

"Someone's interfered with us. I cannot say more," Igor quickly informs. "You mustn't —"

Before Igor could finish his sentence, a roar of something not of this world pierces his ears, causing him to double over. The elevator shakes, as if hit by an earthquake.

Something snaps.

.

He gasps awake.

"…Makoto?"

Ryoji's voice sounds so reluctant. Makoto isn't sure why. He just groans and grabs his head, rolling to his side to try to stop the spinning. Of course, no luck. "Fuck, the room's spinning."

There's a pregnant pause, Ryoji's face is as if he's afraid of disturbing him. "Um… you okay…?"

"Yeah," He nods, keeping his voice low. The worried look on Ryoji unsettles him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You… don't remember?" He asks, his voice strained.

Makoto shakes his head.

"You were—" Ryoji gulps, trying to form words. He slumps back into the chair. Only then did Makoto sees him in full. He's covered in nail marks all over his arms, there's spots of red on his crumpled white shirt that seemingly is not his own blood. His scarf is nowhere to be seen.

Makoto doesn't dare looking anywhere else.

"You were screaming and thrashing so much," He breathes, his voice shaken. "You screamed about something in your head. About wanting to help me. About the gun, and... Makoto… you were in so much pain I-I…"

He looks down at his body and sees just how much damage he did to himself.

His nails were definitely ripped off, fingertips covered with dried blood. His chest is clawed until his skin is bleeding. There's blood on the front of his shirt, the sheet, on the corner of his mouth. The floor. It's everywhere.

"I don't…" He manages to say, a hand on his head. "I… Ryoji, what day is this?"

He remembers venturing into the Metaverse on March 10th. And then he just slips in and out of sleep. He reckons this must be the effect of awakening to a Persona for the first time in seven years, but… why is it this bad? He can't remember a damn thing, and the scratching in his head is just not gone.

"Makoto," Ryoji says, obviously pained and worried and terrified. "It's March 17th. You were… in that state, for a week."

"I…" He just can't find the words. His brows furrow further, his voice hoarse. His memories of everything's scraps on the floor. "I'm… I don't…"

"It's… it's okay," Ryoji gulps, placing a hand on his and squeezes lightly. "We're okay now. You just need more rest."

"…Okay," He decides against declining that offer. Ryoji looks tired. He's caused him so much worry, and he could do nothing to ease his burden.

He hates it.

Makoto hates this. He hates his weakness.

He wants to cry.


"You said the last time you've been here was a month ago, right?"

Yu asks. Joker, as he now calls himself, nods. His expression is three parts terrified and four parts in awe, so Yu thinks he was telling the truth when he said they've not been back to this place since a month ago

Which means whatever he's seeing is not their doings.

"Yeah," Joker says with a stern face.

The stenches almost make him throw up. He feels sick. The fleshy growths do little to help. The nauseating sight and smell, however, are overshadowed by the place they were standing.

The walls, the ceiling, the floor — burned to a crisp, caked in black. Charred corpses littered the endless cavern. A single black feather sits atop a white mask, possibly detached from a Shadow. There are no other signs to tell them what had transpired here, but he sure as hell will find out.

One more thing that he sees is that the Shadows seem more… agitated, than he usually sees them in the TV world. He confirms this with Joker, and the other says they are not usually like this.

Shadow-related illness, strange manifestations of the Mementos…

This is going to be more than just a couple of murders, isn't it?

"We have to visit the Velvet Room," Joker whispers to him and him alone. He nods, brows furrowed together. "How would be a problem, but it's better than sitting here wondering what the fuck happened in this place."

"True," He echoes.

The Velvet Room.

They must get to Igor and their attendants, because only there will they get an answer they need.


So... yeah, that kinda happened. Well then! Reviews if you please, and I do hope you enjoy this, like always!

See you next time!