A/N: Here's the second interlude, featuring Shinjiro and introducing Strega. It was a little difficult trying to throw in some original dialogue between the two scenes since Shinjiro is a man of few words but hopefully the deviations I've made are noticeable.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter and I'll see you guys next time in that dreaded love hotel.
The constant chatter of voices, loud slurping of noodles, and the heavy aroma of pork broth hung in the air as Shinjiro awaited his order. Eating at Hagakure Ramen was something he always looked forward to. It gave him another chance to figure out the ingredients they used to create the soup base of their house special. The spicy yet sweet flavor was unique to the store, and that alone could make it so packed that you had to queue for a good half hour before entering. Once you did enter, you had approximately twenty minutes to finish your meal before they asked you to leave. No time to enjoy the food. No time to savor the taste.
Shinjiro had been victim to this several times but after a while, he figured out the trick. Which was to go in an hour before closing time. It seemed silly to dine at this hour as the end of a business day meant that supplies would be short and possibly not so fresh. But that only held true for the surrounding restaurants because out of all his visits, not once did Shinjiro notice the supplies at Hagakure Ramen drop. At all. He had thought about how that could be and just shook his head. Like Mitsuru had so blatantly put it once, there were some things in life that were better remained in secrecy.
As the server placed his bowl of ramen in front of him, he caught sight of Akihiko entering the store and making his way to a seat beside him. Shinjiro groaned, lowered his head and focused on the soup's tantalizing aroma. Out of all the times he wants to talk, he has to pick now?
"I'll have what he's having, except with more meat please," Akihiko said to the server, before taking a seat beside Shinjiro. Although he kept his eyes forward on the server, who began to scoop the soup out of a large pot, Shinjiro knew that he may as well be looking at him. "How can you eat the same thing all the time, without getting sick of it?"
"Shut up," Shinjiro replied, picking up his chopsticks. He refused to look up at the person who disturbed his food critiquing. Even if said person was a friend since childhood. "You always eat that protein shit."
"Well how else am I gonna get stronger?"
Shinjiro let the question hang and began eating, focusing on the texture and flavor of the ingredients. The noodles were al dente as always, the accompaniments just right, and the soup still very savory. From the corner of his eye, he could see Akihiko's bowl decorated with slices of pork to the point it was the only accompaniment to the noodles. He sighed, unable to comprehend how anything with that much meat could taste good, and went back to analyzing the soup's ingredients.
"So, you still haven't made up your mind?" Akihiko asked after a few minutes.
"Is that what this is about?" Shinjiro replied, now looking at him."You want me back in?"
Akihiko nodded slightly and placed his chopsticks on the bowl. "We've got four new members. Things have changed quite a bit since you left."
"Oh yeah? How so?"
"Well for a start, we've got someone who wields more than one."
Shinjiro's eyes widened. "That's not possible. A person can only have one."
"Yeah well that's we thought at first," Akihiko said, clasping his hands. "But I've seen Arisato's handiwork firsthand and it's pretty remarkable. Even Mitsuru holds him in high regard."
"Arisato? Must be that kid," Shinjiro muttered, thinking of that blue haired boy who demonstrated some competence in fist fighting back in that courtyard.
"That kid? Do you know him or something?"
"That's not important. What else has changed?"
Akihiko pursed his lips. "Mitsuru's returned to the front lines. With her and Arisato around, we're a lot more aggressive than we used to be."
"What? Why is she fighting alongside you? I thought she was delegated to support."
"She only joined because our latest member has a similar but stronger search ability."
Shinjiro turned his attention back to his ramen, which looked rather unappetizing now that Akihiko had distracted him. Someone with a stronger analyzing skill than Mitsuru? That's a first. And they're more aggressive now are they? That actually suits me quite–
"I'm not interested," Shinjiro said, cutting off the thought. He would not go back down that path.
"Think about it Shinji," Akihiko said. "Don't let your power go to waste."
"My power ain't worth shit. Besides, I made up my mind a long time ago. I ain't going back."
"You have to let the past go. What's done is done. It's time you moved on."
Shinjiro rummaged through his coat pockets for a couple of coins and placed them beside his almost empty bowl. He then stood up and faced Akihiko once more. "You're one to talk. Face it, you're no different than me."
Before Akihiko could reply, he was already out the door. When he felt that there was substantial distance between him and the store, he cursed in frustration. Several onlookers turned to inspect him as if he were drunk but one glare was enough to send them scurrying away. Shinjiro scoffed at their nosiness and continued to walk through the now thinning streets of Iwatodai towards the train station.
He was surprised to see the station still full of people considering midnight was fast approaching and as he boarded the train to Port Island, he wondered if he would receive any snide remarks about his looks. It was not rare for the usual businessman to do so but he hoped that it would happen today. He needed to vent the anger that came every time Akihiko asked that question. Normally, Shinjiro could keep it under control but this time, he knew doing so would be the day Akihiko quit boxing. Being denied the opportunity to figure out that particular ingredient had pissed him off greatly and shouting at someone felt like the right thing to do.
Much to his dismay however, the ride to Port Island was uneventful and boring. Disembarking the train and leaving the station, he wandered through the nearby shopping area, passing by the local cinema and several closed shops and cafes. He glanced at his watch as he headed down an alleyway and once the two hands pointed upwards, he felt it. The shift to the Dark Hour had arrived once again and packaged with it was a pulsing headache. The pain was beginning to grow tiresome but as it was no different to last night's, or the night before that, Shinjiro simply ignored it like he always had. He rounded a corner to see a familiar courtyard up ahead but refrained from entering when a panicked voice echoed through the area.
"Wh-What the hell is this?" the voice said.
Shinjiro moved forward and, ensuring that he was still hidden from view, inspected the scene before him. There was someone. A male, likely in his teens or early twenties, stumbling away from two tall coffins. Shinjiro kept his hands in his coat pockets. As much as he wanted to prevent yet another person become an empty husk, he knew it was too late. The Shadows would be coming for him soon and even if wanted to do something about it, Shinjiro also knew that without the medication, his ability to channel that power was unstable. He sighed and remained where he was, then stiffened as three figures entered the courtyard from the opposite end.
"Good evening," the tall man in the middle said, causing the teenager to pivot and look at them with a mix of newfound hope and fear. With long gray hair, an exposed torso, and tattoos carved onto both arms, the man appeared to be some sort of homeless person. That impression did not last long though, as once the teenager noticed the shiny silver revolver tucked in between the tall man's torn jeans and studded white belt, he whimpered like a puppy.
"Are you surprised?" the tall man continued, "Truth be told, we all visit this world every night."
"Wh-What are you saying?" the teenager asked. "Who the hell are you?
Instead of answering, the tall man looked to his bespectacled companion and gestured him to step forward and deal with the situation.
"This is you, right?" the companion asked, holding out a wanted paper. He was shorter than the man who had first spoken and held a silver briefcase in his right hand. From where Shinjiro stood, the green jacket the companion wore allowed him to blend in with the green tinge of the Dark Hour like a chameleon.
"Where did you get this?" the teenager demanded.
"Somebody's got a grudge against you, and they asked us to get revenge. It's that simple really."
"Revenge? Who put you up to this?"
The companion stuffed the paper in his pocket and laughed. "We wouldn't be professionals if we told you now would we?"
"Professionals?" the teenager repeated, eyes widening. "Oh shit. You mean, those rumors on the net are true?"
At that moment, the companion stepped back and the tall man pulled out his revolver.
"Hey, w-wait! I haven't done anything!" the teenager yelled.
"That is not our concern," the tall man said. "Your notion of right and wrong is irrelevant. My client's wishes are all that matter. People hear what they choose to hear, and believe what they want to believe." He aimed.
"N-No, get away from me!"
The teenager turned but as soon as he tried to bolt, the air cracked and he dropped to the ground, a crimson puddle beginning to form where he lay.
"I love it when they squeal like that. Hearing such raw emotion just makes me feel so alive," the tall man said, shoving the revolver in between his belt and jeans.
"He's not dead," said the third figure, who had long red hair and a complexion as white as her elaborate gown. Her voice was hollow.
"Doesn't matter," said the companion, adjusting his glasses. "We've held up our end of the bargain. Besides, tomorrow this will just seem like some random crime." He turned to walk back the way he came but the tall man stopped him.
"Wait a moment, Jin. It seems we have a visitor with us this evening," the tall man said. He took a few steps forward and peered down the alleyway directly in front of him, his yellow eyes cutting through the darkness. "If you're done watching friend, you may show yourself."
So they're the ones behind that 'Revenge Request' website, Shinjiro thought. He slowly emerged from the shadows and out into the courtyard, his eyes holding the tall man's gaze. Even though he had known these people for some time, it was still awkward to be around them. Perhaps it was because he himself was not wearing an outlandish outfit, or perhaps it was because he was unable to mimic their total disregard for the world and everything in it. Whatever the reason was, it was irrelevant as Shinjiro knew that without them, he would be as well off as the Lost.
The tall man gave him a sidelong glance then looked to his companion. "Jin, give him the capsules."
The man known as 'Jin' reached into his pocket, brought out a small cylindrical container containing several white capsules, and handed it to Shinjiro.
"Thanks," Shinjiro said, reaching into his pockets. "I'll pay you the same as–"
"That won't be necessary," the tall man interrupted. "This time, information will suffice." When Shinjiro raised an eyebrow, he continued, "Your acquaintances have been busy lately with their activities on nights when the moon is full. They've spent a great deal of time in the tower as well. Why did they take this burden upon themselves?"
Shinjiro thought about this; the floating remnants of past memories somehow coming together for the first time in years. The multitude of invitations to rejoin S.E.E.S., the early days of fighting Shadows alongside Akihiko and Mitsuru, and then that dreadful day when–
"You do know, don't you?" the tall man prodded. "But, you don't wish to say? Is it because they are your friends?"
"Friends? Like hell they are. I've got nothing to do with them," Shinjiro said, grimacing.
"Then, tell us."
Shinjiro shifted his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know too much of the details but I know they're pretty keen on destroying those creatures. This is just a guess but they're probably hoping that by doing so, it'll make the tower disappear and with it, the Dark Hour."
"You mean, they intend to eliminate the Dark Hour and the Tower of Demise?" the tall man asked, taken aback.
"Seems like it."
The tall man swore. "Why would they do such a thing?! With the power they have..." He suddenly seized his revolver and pointed it at Shinjiro, who raised an eyebrow.
"Whoa, easy Takaya," Jin said, placing a hand on Takaya's shoulder. "It's not like shooting him is going to solve anything."
"I have a request for you," Takaya said, brushing Jin's hand off. "Tell your acquaintances to stop their excursions to the almighty Tower. And whatever they do on nights when the moon is full."
Shinjiro scoffed. "Why don't you tell them yourself? It'll seem more believable."
Takaya's finger tightened around the trigger and to Shinjiro, it almost looked as if he were going to. Then, with great reluctance, he lowered the revolver. And chuckled. "You're right. It will be more believable that way. Come now, Jin and Chidori, we have a little observation to make." He then turned on his heel and disappeared in the darkness, his companions following suit.
As Shinjiro watched them leave, he could not fathom why Takaya was so devoted in keeping Tartarus around. Who wouldn't want to take out that damn tower? Letting the thought wander, he opened the container with capsules, took one and swallowed it. His headache died down a little and the urge of his Persona quelled.
He then leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, and thought about Akihiko's words. Am I really letting my power go to waste? Images of a memory long buried raced across his mind. This place. That Shadow. The accident. Shinjiro held his head and severed the thought. No. He could not go back. If doing so risked the life of another, then he would rather die. He chuckled. It was only a matter of time anyway.