There were a few things Akira gathered he'd need to do before setting out in search of Wakaba Isshiki as he left the hotel he'd woken up at. First, he'd need to quickly get some accommodations, something of which was easier said than done. Theoretically, he could buy a house with a portion of the money he'd received but that therein led into another problem.

Igor had failed to mention that sending him two years back into this reality would consequently revert his age as well. It was impossible for a fourteen-year-old to purchase a house through legal means without parental consent.

That was through legal means, however. There were two ways to purchase a house in Japan.

The first was to be above the age of twenty and purchase a deed through legal channels. The second was to go through dubious connections and purchase it through an intermediary, typically deals within these fashions are done by the more underground of Japan's populace. And while Akira may not have had any dubious connections, he certainly knew exactly where to find one.

Thankfully he still had another week before his stay was up at the hotel, so after doing a quick search on the average cost of a house (some of which boggled Akira making him quite glad of his forays against the Reaper, selling the treasures he'd find, and brainwashing shadows) and gathering twenty million yen into a new sturdy metal briefcase, Akira made his ways into the underground of Shibuya commonly associated with the darker sides of Japan.

The first thing Akira did was search for a specific overpass, the same overpass Iwai had brought him too when cutting off his deal with Akimitsu Tsuda. Akira was many things but a believer in coincidences wasn't one of them, chances were that the under-side walkway of the overpass was one of the local yakuza's meet up spots. Given how when Masa had held up Kaoru and Iwai, Tsuda seemed to know exactly where to find his henchman it was likely a common area for the yakuza.

Arriving at the overpass it seemed he was right. Loitering around the edges of the walkway were a few males, ranging from their late teens to early twenties, an air of danger around them.

"I'd suggest you turn around kid," one particularly rough-looking teen commented as he noticed Akira's steady approach. When Akira didn't say anything, he took it to himself to try a more intimidating approach.

"Oi! Kid! I said beat it!" he growled, his colleagues noticed the commotion but merely watched on as the fourteen-year-old was threatened.

Akira looked up at him, inwardly cursing that his body was shorter than it had been previously. Not because the man was intimidating but because he missed his old height where he didn't need to strain his neck to meet other people's eyes.

"I'm looking for Akimitsu Tsuda," Akira said breezily.

Each of the yakuza tensed. The one that was in Akira's face grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, bringing the two face-to-face.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at punk?" the yakuza growled.

Akira looked at him disinterestedly. A hand flashed forward, a palm-strike to the man's throat sent him sprawling to the ground clutching at his airways in an effort to breathe. It was always useful knowing how to temporarily close air passages.

Akira looked around as each of the Yakuza got into sloppy fighting stances with a myriad of weapons ranging from knuckle-dusters to switch-blades. "I'm looking for Akimitsu Tsuda. I wish to make a deal with him," Akira repeated professionally.

"Wh-Why the fuck would we take you to him you l-little shitstain?!" the choking yakuza member sputtered as he staggered to his feet warily.

Akira didn't say anything but instead opened the metal briefcase he had on-hand. "Then I'm sure you'd like to explain to your boss why he's losing out on a good deal."

He smirked as they quickly ushered him into a car, blindfolded him and drove off.

Akira soon found himself in a well-lit lavish room with no windows, but otherwise could be a nice room found within a club. Honestly, it was remarkably similar to the one Kaneshiro had once used to blackmail the Phantom Thieves before Makoto had joined them.

"So, you're the shit that hit one of my boys," Tsuda's glasses glinted as they flashed, his men standing around the couch he was sitting on. Off to the side, Akira saw the henchman he'd struck holding a bag of ice over his throat. "You've got a set on you kid…. take a seat," Tsuda motioned over to the other couch situated across from him, a coffee table between the two.

"Let's get down to business," Tsuda leaned forward with his elbows on his knees "Give me one good reason I shouldn't have you shot and take your damn money. You've crossed the yakuza kid, you're in deep."

Akira merely looked at him unphased, staring down the face of a fake god was much more intimidating than a local yakuza lieutenant.

"This is only a down-payment for if our deal goes through. If you kill me this is all you'll get," Akira stared Tsuda down. He knew this game of intimidation and subjugation, if you didn't submit to either, you'd get what you want. It was the same with Iwai and it'd be the same with Tsuda, they were oath-brothers after all. Their honour and pride wouldn't allow them for anything else.

Of course, had it been after Tsuda loses the deal on New Year in two years from now with the Hong Kong mafia, this would be an entirely different story. Akira would be sitting on the couch with a hole through his head and brain matter blasted out the back.

Tsuda leered at him for a moment, before nodding. "Seriously got a fucking pair on you kid, how much are we talking about and what do you want? Need to cross my T's and dot my I's."

Akira leaned lazily into the palm of his hand. "Ninety million yen."

Tsuda's eyes widened behind his glasses before narrowing. "Well, well… that's one hell of a score if I've ever heard one. Where does a kid like you get money like that… and what's the deal?"

Akira leaned back his hand folding into his lap relaxed, "I need a house, permanent residence for the foreseeable future."

"And why the hell does a kid like you need one? Ain't you meant to be living with your parents or something?" Tsuda probed, already noting how Akira hadn't explained how he'd acquired the money.

Akira gave a brittle smile. "What reason does a kid my age go to the yakuza just to buy a house?" he asked leadingly.

Tsuda nodded in understanding. You didn't live as a yakuza lieutenant for nearing ten years without understanding there's some shit you didn't continue asking about.

"And the money?"

"I'll admit that it wasn't acquired legally, but it wasn't acquired illegally either," Akira answered but received a negative from Tsuda.

"I don't care about shit like that, all I care about is that this money isn't connected to anyone. We don't want a turf war cause some gang's breathing down our neck, you hear?" Tsuda leered at the teen.

"There is no one alive that would be able to lay claim to the money," Akira paused in thought, choosing his words carefully, "If anyone tried to... I'd be displeased." It was impossible for anyone else to lay claim to his funds. It'd come from Mementos after all and the only people who even knew about how it had been acquired had fallen.

Tsuda looked at the teen for a moment before calling over one of his henchmen, issued some orders to which the henchman quickly vacated the room. Leaning back into the couch he smiled at Akira, "Just looking over some things, it won't take a moment."

True to his words the henchman returned with a folder to which Tsuda quickly swiped out of his hands. There was an analytical gleam in his eyes as he skimmed the contents of the folder, looking over at Akira as he did so who merely gave a genial smile in return.

Tsuda snapped the folder shut and laid it on the table closed.

"How quickly do you need that house and where do you want it?" Tsuda asked.

Akira couldn't help but grin.

"Somewhere around Shibuya, I'm not too fussed. However, if it could be closer Yongen-Jaya, that would be greatly appreciated. I need it within the week. Two-to-four rooms."

Tsuda nodded, his right-hand man writing down the request the moment Tsuda asked his question. "We can have one ready for you within the week, would you like it furnished?"

Akira wouldn't admit it but he was surprised by how accommodating Tsuda was being, but he wasn't about to turn away a horse with a gift in its mouth. "Furnished please, I'll pay an extra ten million for you to use," Akira paused, "Can you make it so that the deed is under my name?"

"Of course, whatever you need," Tsuda gave a professional smile, "Your name?"

Akira stood up and held out his hand. "Akira Kurusu, a pleasure to do business with you Tsuda. I hope this will be the start of a mutually beneficial relationship."

Tsuda looked at his hand. "Same for us Kurusu-san," he took the hand giving it a firm shake, "My boys will drop you off back in Shibuya, do you have anywhere you need to be?"

Akira shook his head. With business done the two exchanged contact information before he followed Tsuda's men out the door, surprisingly without a blindfold.

…

"Fucking hell…" Tsuda swore the moment the door closed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He looked contemplatively at the manila folder and the twenty million yen within the briefcase that'd been left behind. "What a right fucking mess we've gotten into…"

"Tsuda-san?" his right-hand man queried with a look of confusion.

Tsuda didn't say anything, instead, he re-opened the folder and splayed out its contents across the coffee table, within there were photos of multiple dead bodies of wealthy men and women. "The mafia gang in Shibuya, it's undergoing new-management correct?" he asked as he looked over the documents.

"Uh- I mean, yes!" Tsuda's right-hand-man, Onoi nodded, "We've gotten word from above that the executives of the Shibuya mafia started dropping left and right. Just fell dead, no injuries or tells, no signs of poison or internal damage either. Why do you ask sir?"

Tsuda grunted noncommittedly.

"...Sir?"

"You don't live this long in the Yakuza by being an idiot Onoi," Tsuda commented as he motioned for one of his men to pour him something strong. A second later and a glass of amber liquor was in the palm of his hands. He downed the whole glass in a single motion.

"And you sure as shit don't become a lieutenant in Tokyo's Yakuza by believing in coincidences," Tsuda enjoyed the burn as he set the glass down, the buzz calming down his frayed nerves. "What kind of kid his age walks up to Yakuza, goddamn orders them for a meeting, attacks them, and then makes a deal with them?"

Onoi was unsure what to say. Thankfully Tsuda continued his spiel, completely ignoring him. Tsuda gave another motion and the glass was refilled.

"I'll tell you who. One who isn't scared of the consequences. One who's done this shit before, and walked away unscathed," he answered as he picked up the glass but merely stared at its amber depths.

All the other men within the room stayed quiet as their boss spoke. Absentmindedly Tsuda looked up at them, at each and every one of them.

"Any of you boys seen that kid before? Any of you talked to him about me?"

A round of negatives came throughout the room.

"Alright… then for the sake of hypotheticals, how do you think that kid knew you were Yakuza? How in the bloody fuck did a fourteen-year-old know one of our meet-up spots?" Tsuda asked as took a swig.

Each man within the room was on edge. Questions like these weren't good ones, it usually meant there was a traitor within the ranks. Noticing his men's tension, he waved a hand.

"Nothing against anyone let me make that clear, just purely hypothetical," Tsuda clarified. "But that doesn't still doesn't change the fact that this kid knew exactly who we are and who I am," he stressed.

"Should we do something about him boss?" the one with the ice bag over his throat asked.

Tsuda snorted into his glass, "If you've got a death wish, go for it. Pretty sure he'll end up sending you back in a body bag or something."

Cold washed over the room.

"S-Sir?" Onoi questioned hesitantly.

Tsuda set the glass down and looked down at the briefcase filled with yen. "Kurusu said that he'd be displeased if anyone came to claim this… you know what the means?" he looked up at Onoi, "This right here is blood money… and I'm sure you've all figured exactly where it came from."

"Sir, are you sure you aren't just jumping to conclusions?" Onoi asked.

"Like I said… I don't believe in coincidences. Shibuya mafia's higher-ups start dropping like flies and some kid makes a goddamn hundred-million deal for a fucking house?"

Tsuda shook his head at Onoi's stupid question but he'd let it slide this once.

"If you ask me, I'm pretty damned sure we've just met the one who's been taking the local mafia out, and it seems he's setting up shop in Shibuya…" Tsuda reclined into the lounge but rolled his head to look at his men. "Let me make one thing clear to all of you. You're all gonna listen to whatever that kid says. If he says to jump, the only damn thing that better come out of your mouths are the words "how high?" am I understood?"

"Sir!"

"Good…" Tsuda nodded. "If Kurusu wants to make a deal with us we'll take it. I'd rather deal with the devil I know than have someone else deal with him and drop to the floor cause I wouldn't buy a house… and if he wants to pay an absurd amount for it, who am I to argue?"

Tsuda got one more refill.

"I think we just got one hell of a deal for us boys… only thing now is to find out how much it'll profit or cost us…" Tsuda swigged the final glass and placed it down with a click. He looked up.

"What the fuck are you all doing, go house shopping you morons!"

His men scrambled around like rats.

Akira was pleasantly surprised by how swift Tsuda and his men had been able to procure him a residence. He was now the proud owner of a two-story house in the middle of a residential district a few streets away from the outskirts of Yongen-Jaya. It had taken less than a day before Tsuda had sent him an address that fit Akira's description. Tsuda and one of his men, Onoi, or something or the other had shown up at the hotel Akira was staying at and brought him to the residence.

The two-story house was large for a single person, far larger than what Akira had in mind but it'd suit his purposes. With three bedrooms, a laundry room with a washing machine and a dryer, a kitchen and a living room, all fully furnished and stocked, it was certainly somewhere Akira could see himself living for the next three years.

After paying the remaining eighty-million yen, Akira internally wincing at the large amount of money he'd spent, and he was now the proud owner of a quaint residence near the edge of Yongen-Jaya and Shibuya. He had a little over fifty-million remaining so he'd someday he'd need to stock up again, and by stock up, it meant he'd need to find some shadows to brainwash ruthlessly with their seemingly endless amounts of cash.

"We've taken the liberty of talking with some of our contacts within the police and had some nice 'chats' with the realtors of the property. As far as anyone's concerned, this place is owned by a twenty-year-old going by Akira Kurusu, so no need to worry about inspections from the CPS or anything like that," Tsuda informed him professionally after Akira signed some paperwork, and handed over the briefcase of cash.

He noted that Tsuda hadn't bothered to confirm if the agreed amount was actually in there, but it wasn't like he was about to cheat over the yakuza anytime soon.

Akira just looked at the residence. At fourteen he'd done something he hadn't thought he'd be doing back when he was sixteen. Akira let out a snort. There was a lot of things he'd done that he' never thought he'd have done, buying a house was at the bottom of a very long list.

"Is there anything else you require?"

Akira thought about it for a moment. "How do you feel about creating some ID's?"

Tsuda didn't even bat an eye, "Kurusu-san, that's something we do every other day. Give us a week and we can have a solid history for you."

"Cost?"

"A million."

One of Akira's black brows rose, "That's cheaper than I'd been expecting. I'll have the money ready once you've set it up."

"I'll contact you once it's set up. For the moment you should be fine without any identification until then," Tsuda nodded. "Is there anything else you need?"

Akira gave the large house a look over.

"Would you mind finding me a housemate?"

It was Tsuda's time to raise a brow.

Once Akira had finished setting up his meagre possessions compared to the large house, he immediately noticed one significant setback to finding Wakaba Isshiki. The thing was that even though he wouldn't have been able to find her in the real world, he'd been counting on finding her through the Metaverse.

This presented a problem in and of itself since the Metaverse navigation app was no longer on his phone, and wouldn't ever be since Yaldabaoth as Igor was the one that handed it out… or at least that's how Akira had figured it had been.

Looking over his belongings, Akira opened up his suitcase and looked at the array of weaponry sitting innocently inside.

'I should buy a case for these… and maybe a holster," ran through his mind as he picked up Paradise Lost and Tyrant Pistol. He wasn't entirely sure if his weaponry would be brought with him if he entered the Metaverse since they were here so it was better to be safe than sorry. Tucking Paradise Lost into the length of his blazer's sleeve and Tyrant Pistol in the waistband of his pants.

Closing the suitcase and grabbing the keys to the house he began to make his way to Shibuya. Unfortunately, since there wasn't a nearby station aside from Yongen-Jaya and Shibuya, his only real choice of transportation was walking straight to the station. Maybe he'd buy a bike or something.

Even without the Metaverse app, Akira wasn't about to give up trying to access the Metaverse; as such the easiest place to find the closest such access point, this, of course, being Mementos.

Akira wasn't ready for the rapid throbbing that consumed his chest the moment he stepped into Central Square. Even though he'd been in Shibuya just a day ago, he hadn't really been able to look around since he'd gone so early in the morning that daylight had yet to break. But now, with the shining light and the bustling of the city, he finally realised.

Shibuya was alive.

Akira took a seat and just took it all in, the foot traffic, the wind blowing in the winter turning into the spring air, and the general bustle of life. This was what he was fighting for. A world averted from ruin, from a moment of endless silence before being shorn from reality.

Grasping onto his pendant, Akira took a deep breath and all too suddenly he the throb dissipated and the sensations of realisations that threatened to overwhelm him faded to nothing.

Looking at the Shibuya station entrance he felt as the pendant burned in his hand, a feeling of insistence burrowing its way through his mind.

It was hard to explain, the ability to understand the subconscious thoughts of a dead world, but Akira could feel his dead world and this one overlap for just the briefest of moments, his entire being used as a channel between the two. Two worlds recognising each other's history, events and histories near-identical to each other that neither was able to understand which was the original and which wasn't; thus causing them to merge and fuse for a singular moment.

Red overtook his vision as he entered Mementos.

Akira grinned.

He'd honestly took a gamble with the pendant but he had the feeling he'd have been able to use it to enter Mementos. Igor and Lavenza weren't ones to overlook something as large as being unable to access the Metaverse.

Of course, that left the problem of finding Wakaba. Normally they'd enter their target's name into the Metaverse app but that only worked if the person's desires were distorted. He knew that this version of Wakaba was likely to follow his world's so the chances were that she was hyper-focused on her research but he had the feeling that that wouldn't have been enough of a distortion.

And there was the added fact he once more didn't have the app itself.

His solution was the splitting migraine that consumed his mind as two facets of himself, two personae lunged so violently to the forefront of his mind he almost felt the two of them materialise into Mementos. Clutching at his mask he struggled to get the two under control.

Kohryuu and Ongyo-Ki.

The two warred for a moment for control, to be the one to find Wakaba. Eventually, Kohryuu gave in and receded before returning to his Sea of Souls while Ongyo-Ki became the persona Joker would call upon beneath his mask. With an almost whining insistence, he could feel as his persona urged him to delve into the depths of Mementos.

Taking the time to ensure that Paradise Lost and the Tyrant Pistol had joined him, to which he noticed that even equipment he hadn't brought with him on his person such as all of his restorative items had joined him.

Looking down he noticed his clothes were slightly different to what he'd normally wear. He still had his coat but its length was shorter, only to his knees rather than shin-length, his baggy pants were replaced by a tighter fit but a still just as mobile pair, and black combat boots donning his feet. A pair of black gloves took over his red and even on his face he instinctively knew that his mask had changed from a white jagged pair to a smooth black one.

Akira supposed with everything that had occurred this was inevitable. The clothes a Persona-user wore was a representation of their rebellion and the path they've chosen in pursuit of that rebellion.

Ryuji rebelled against the oppression of adults who would seek to harm others and push them down all the while climbing higher. His own attire reflected his personal demons, the wish to be strong, to fight against Kamoshida's reign, some of his attire tying directly to those personal demons. The kneecaps and protective attire he'd worn on his knees, one of which Kamoshida had shattered was proof that in the pursuit of protecting others he'd never forget where he'd begun and he wouldn't allow it to happen again.

Ann rebelled against what everyone thought of her. Some had thought of her as Kamoshida's whore, and even after taking Kamoshida down, there were still rumours that had floated every now and then. Her Panther catsuit showed her rebellion by being comfortable in who she was and that no matter what people said she would be who she decided to be and not what other people thought her to be.

Yusuke out of all the Phantom Thieves had been different. Yusuke's rebellion was directly tied to his passion and personality, a unique eccentricity that while unobtrusive was highly noticeable to anyone that had known him. His rebellion was to see the truth with unclouded eyes, just like those of a fox. Or perhaps it was because of his passion with Japanese Art that in turn reflected a more Japanese outfit. Yusuke's was the only one Joker had never been able to properly figure out

Makoto's rebellion was a rebellion against society, against tying herself to sate the wishes of others. She'd rebelled against the principal, her sister and everyone's expectation of her being a no-good pushover and it showed with her attire of a modern biker.

Futaba's attire was more directly connected to her abilities as a strategist and her persona Prometheus. She didn't rebel against society as a whole but against those who'd sought her mother's research.

Haru's was rebellion against being tied down to a disgusting fiancee and a wish for a chance to live her own life, her attire reflected it by being that of a traditional phantom thief to steal her life away from others and live as she saw fit.

Akechi's… his was different. Both of his exemplified how he saw rebellion but both were intrinsically different. His rebellion was that of against justice as Crow and a rebellion against Shido as Black Mask. One was a pure white on the side of justice while the other was rage against a vile man.

Finally, Morgana. Morgana's clothes were that of an explorer, a reminder of his birth when he'd first explored Palaces and Mementos in search of Joker. A life in search of He Who Will Save The Souls Of Humanity, and a rebellion against the god who sought to control mankind.

And just like them, Joker's clothes were representative of his rebellion. He would rebel against society and help others, he would perform sacrilegious acts all in the name of his own justice. Once he'd worn a white mask and red gloves against black clothes with a similarly black duster, a symbol that as much as he didn't want to be seen a part of him yearned to be noticed.

But now, being clad in black and the lack of style in his clothes save for pure practicality, Joker finally understood that that part of him was gone. In its place was a person that had thrown away his personal rebellion and replaced it with the wish to save others. If he was meant to rig the game for the Trickster of this world then he needed to do it unseen and unheard. He would save this world and if all went accordingly, not a single person but he would know.

Looking forward into the mouth of Mementos, Joker heeded Ongyo-Ki and descended into its depths.

Joker will admit that the moment he found Wakaba he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Even now as he looked down from his perch amongst the tangle of Mementos' veins down at Wakaba Isshiki's shadow; the very same perch he'd been sitting at for the last six hours, he wasn't sure what he was meant to do.

After all, she was meant to DIE. There were no if's or buts about it. In order for this reality to continue on its chance of aversion from Ruin, Wakaba Isshiki had to die. Her shadow simply stood there muttering to herself, the most noticeable being that about her research while little snippets being about Futaba. Joker found it strange to see a shadow that reflected a normal person rather than someone with distorted desires.

The room he was in was the exact same room the Phantom Thieves would normally find Shadows of requests from the Phan-Site, like that of Nakanohara, so it was easy to evade Shadow Wakaba's sight and leap onto the veins that led straight to the Holy Grail. An idle thought of 'I hope the Holy Grail can't feel me standing on its veins' passed through his mind as he continued his observing vigil before he felt something was off.

He almost fell as a persona lurched into Mementos before Joker was able to wrangle it back into submission. Whereas Ongyo-Ki was insistent Metatron while as calm and composed as ever seemed to almost be frantic with delight. Joker was confused.

If Metatron was acting in an anyway similar manner to either Kohryu and Ongyo-Ki, then that meant that someone related to Akechi was…

Joker threw himself prone against the pulsing veins beneath him as his sight whipped towards the entrance towards the room, its swirling door letting someone in. Joker's eyes widened as Metatron, the Voice of God sung a hymn of victory, and Akechi in his attire as Shido's executioner walked into the room.

That hymn of victory became that of swift disapproval as without pause Akechi walked forward lifted a silenced pistol to the Shadow of Wakaba Isshiki and fired. The bullet passed through Wakaba as she collapsed to the ground. Joker could only watch, his heart beating faster and faster as Akechi crouched down, laying the barrel of his silenced-pistol against shadow Wakaba's head.

"This is nothing personal, I assure you… just business," Joker could hear Akechi's words in the silence of the chamber before a pull of the trigger heralded the end of Wakaba Isshiki and the beginning of Ruin.

In a haze Joker watched as Akechi left, ensuring that he was gone he jumped down from his perch and crouched down to where Wakaba Isshiki's shadow had been killed.

Wakaba Isshiki's Shadow was dead and her research most likely going to be confiscated…

Wakaba Isshiki was dead…

…so why did it feel like this was the beginning of an opportunity rather than the end of one?

Joker's fingers glided against the floor, where Wakaba's shadow used to be. "Sandalphon…" Joker whispered as Ongyo-Ki swapped places with the Ultimate persona of the Moon, the Angel of Mercy and twin brother of Metatron.

Joker was used to taking a gamble, but never had he taken a gamble that could potentially destroy reality. With the barest of thought, he whispered.

"Samarecarm."

Reality continued to move on, unheeding.

Joker grinned.

Wakaba Isshiki had died.

But nothing said that she couldn't be brought back. Before the shadow could say anything, Joker places his hand against her forehead.

"Dormina."

And just like that, the Shadow of Wakaba Isshiki was asleep but alive.

The fabric of reality was still intact and the world continued its course.

Joker couldn't stop the crazy grin that tore at his face. All he had to do now was find the real Wakaba Isshiki and ensure her research was stolen.