5/16 – Monday
Afternoon
Shibuya, Art Gallery

"Remind me," Ryuji said, staring with a sour expression at the bustling gallery across the street, "why are we doing this?"

"I got three tickets from another model," Ann replied. She'd sort of dressed up for the occasion, with a very nice blue button-up top, knee-length skirt and pink scarf. Ryuji, despite being instructed over group text to do the same, was simply wearing his normal weekend outfit – a plain yellow tee. Ren himself hadn't had much access to anything he could classify as "dressy", so he dropped a chunk of yen on a relatively inexpensive suit jacket and some new slacks. It felt awkward wearing the jacket over a t-shirt, but he figured no one would notice. "She'd been planning on going with her parents, but then her dad got sick, so she said I could have them."

"No, I mean why are we doing this?" Ryuji gestured to himself and Ren. "Neither of us are exactly, like, artsy."

"Hey, speak for yourself," Ren jabbed.

Ryuji crossed his arms. "Name one artist."

"Van Gogh?"

"Name a modern artist."

"Uh," Ren said. "...Van Gogh?"

Ryuji snorted, and Ren laughed too.

"Alright, alright, shut it." Ann glared at each of them in turn. "You're here because this might be a clue towards finding the next Phantom Thief target."

Ren shut up instantly, Ryuji following suit.

"You remember that guy Nakanohara blamed for everything?" Ann continued. "He said his whole messed up stalker deal was someone else's fault."

"I guess so," Ryuji said, his brow furrowed.

It took Ren a moment to recall the name in question. "Madarame, or something?"

Ann nodded solemnly. "That's what I thought too. And here, check this out." She handed Ren a small red and gold pamphlet.

"Shibuya Art Gallery," he read aloud, "is proud to host its seventeenth annual art exhibit. Featuring the works of Ichiryusai–" His breath froze in his throat. "Ichiryusai Madarame."

"Holy shit," Ryuji said. "Wait, but, didn't we agree Nakanohara was full of shit?"

Morgana poked his head out of Ren's bag. "Even if he was wrong about Madarame, there's no harm in investigating. A corrupt artist would be a big catch for the Phantom Thieves. Good work Ann!"

Ann grinned. "Hey, it was pretty much just a lucky coincidence."

Between the parcels and assistance from other Persona users, seemed like there was quite a lot of 'lucky coincidences' these days. Ren cleared his throat. "Morgana, you should probably stay hidden. Keep your ears peeled though, see if you can hear anything useful." Ren also didn't know what the gallery's policy on cats was, let alone people-who-looked-like-cats.

Morgana grumbled, clearly not that happy about the idea, but popped back in his bag anyway.

"So, we go look for this Madarame guy?" Ryuji stretched. "Shouldn't be too hard."

Ren shook his head. "He's a famous enough artist for the gallery to advertise they were showing off some of his paintings, he's probably concerned about paparazzi. We wouldn't be able to get anything out of him directly."

"Hm." Ann scratched her chin. "So. What if we ask other people? Maybe there are some other artists at this exhibition?"

"Maybe someone else who he pissed off!" Ryuji added. He rubbed his hands together. "Okay, okay. I'm into this now. Let's go look at some goddamn art!"

Ren laughed. "Best of luck. Let's do this." And four Thieves, two disguised and one hidden, set to work.


Ren couldn't help but get distracted. It was only a dozen minutes or so within the semi-crowded gallery before he realized their mission might not have been specific enough. Approaching strangers wasn't exactly his best skill, after all; and he couldn't manage to pick out a single word in this cacophony. Ann and Ryuji had instantly melted into the swarm of people, those muttering adults wandering to and fro, like some mortifying tide of eyes and tongues. Ren felt alone in this chittering swarm. His grip on his bag tightened. He found himself heading right for the far wall, towards a corner where the crowd was thinner, where he could have some goddamn space.

He could feel the pressure melt off him as he neared the corner, physical tension lifting like a thick cloud from a strong wind. The jacket still felt far too tight, constricting his breath into shallow gasps. Ren fumbled with the buttons, shuddering hands making a simple task far more difficult than it should have been. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered, not sure whether he was chastising the garment or himself. Finally, he got the buttons undone and took a single deep breath.

"Ren?" came Morgana's concerned mewl from inside his bag. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ren mumbled. He steadied himself. "I'm okay."

This corner was practically empty. Maybe it was just because of the anxious student currently standing around there, clutching his shirt at the chest. But none of the patrons seemed that interested in the single painting on display, tucked away there as if to hide it from view. Ren, however, found himself drawn to the piece.

It was relatively simple, a painting of a sunset washing over some sort of forest, the sun dipping behind a mountain and the orange sky peppered with grey clouds. Yet there was something...off about it. At a glance, one could maybe assume the forest was on fire. Those shades of red seemed far more like flames than sunbeams. The clouds were tilted vertically, dark, looking almost like smoke rising above the treetops. And the trees themselves, illuminated from behind, drenched in shadows, took on the appearance of charcoal.

There was something profound there that Ren was far too artistically illiterate to actually articulate. But he found his chest aching at the sight, at whatever emotion the painter had baked into the piece.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice, polite and unassuming.

Ren turned to see a young man with black hair, dressed in what seemed to be a school uniform – white shirt and black pants – and staring at him with an expression of honest concern. "Yes?"

"Are you, um..." The young man seemed almost lost for words. "Is your heart okay?"

Ren realized he was still clutching his shirt, and quickly stuffed both hands in his pockets. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Anxiety."

The young man nodded solemnly. "I know the feeling well." His gaze drifted over Ren's shoulder, towards the art hung against the corner wall. Something in his eyes seemed to dim, some intense note of sadness or grief. "Were you...admiring that painting?"

"Kinda, yeah." Ren turned around to face it the paint-captured scene again, trying to pick out the emotion he'd felt earlier, the precise place where that beauty faded into fury. "It feels very...I don't know. Poignant?" He shrugged. "Most art just looks sort of pretty to me, but I feel like this is trying to say something more."

"Ah." The young man stepped to Ren's side, smiling. He looked sort of proud. "I can't say it does, but it means a great deal to me that you've connected with something I've created."

"Something you've..." Ren trailed off. "Wait, you're the painter?" He had to be messing with him. This guy looked...no, he looked utterly sincere. Far too young to have a painting hung in a gallery, but sincere.

"Oh, whoops." The young man ran a hand through his black hair, grinning sheepishly. "I wasn't really supposed to go around telling people that."

"Well," Ren said, "nothing wrong in taking pride in your work, uh..." He glanced towards the plaque next to the painting, searching for the young man's name.

"Donated to the Shibuya Art Gallery by Ichiryusai Madarame"
And in much smaller letters beneath, almost imperceptibly chiseled, as if someone had tried to hide the words:
"Untitled.
By Y. Kitagawa"

Madarame. There was that name again. Attached, this time, to another artist's work. Ren's brow furrowed. What exactly was going on here? "Why does it say that Madarame donated your painting?" Ren asked.

The young man named Kitagawa shifted in place, seeming quite uncomfortable at the question. "Well, I'm...Madarame is my teacher. He taught me everything I know about painting, and he wanted my next work to be displayed alongside his. Show my name to the world, make my artistic debut." He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "He wasn't able to convince the gallery owners of that. The only way they'd take this painting was as a donation crediting him. He was barely able to get them to put my name on it at all."

Something about his story wasn't quite matching up. Ren wasn't sure what, but there was something the boy wasn't telling him.

The frustration vanished from the young man's face in a second. "Oh! Not to say I'm ashamed of having his name on my work!" He smiled, soft but somewhat sad. "Nothing could be me greater joy than being Madarame's pupil."

"He's a good teacher then?" Ren asked.

Kitagawa nodded. "The very best. He's been nothing but kind and patient with me, despite my faults. No one works harder than him, but he still makes time for his students." His attentions seemed to wander. "He's like a father to me."

"Maybe we have the wrong Madrame?" Morgana mewl-whispered.

It certainly was a possibility, but Ren wasn't convinced. Something...there was something there, something off in Kitagawa's story. Something vile. He looked back over at the young man to see him staring at him through one eye, his fingers arranged in a frame. "Um."

"Oh!" Kitagawa started. "Sorry. You simply seemed..." Maybe it was just the heat of the bright gallery lights, but the young man sort of looked like he was blushing. "You wouldn't happen to be a model, would you?"

Ren snorted. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat, a grin across his face. "Why do you ask?"

Kitagawa averted his eyes, smiling too, sort of chuckling. "This light makes you look, if you don't mind me saying, radiant. And, you're quite dashing in that suit."

Taken aback, Ren couldn't find any words to stutter out besides "thank you?"

The young man fiddled with a loop of keys on his belt, the little metal things clinking against each other like the chime of a muted bell. "I hope this isn't too forward of me, but might I ask your name?"

"Not forward at all," Ren replied. "It's Ren Amamiya." He extended a hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ren." He took Ren's hand in both his and shook it firmly. "I am Yusuke Kitagawa. Would you, perhaps, consider allowing me to use you as a source of inspiration for my next painting."

"Uh." What moron had cranked up the heat all of a sudden? Ren felt like someone was currently slow-baking his face. "What?"

"Ah, um." Yusuke let go on Ren's hand, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was simply...I aim to capture beauty within my art, and you are...well..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

Ren opened his mouth, fully prepared to issue a firm 'no' to the strange but flattering young man, but something kept his tongue. Yusuke was, if nothing else, a pupil of Madarame. If the Phantom Thieves were to properly investigate the potentially corrupt artist, where better to start than with someone who considered Madarame a father? At least for now, it was worth staying on the young man's good side. "What the hell, sure."

Yusuke lit up at the response. "Excellent! That's wonderful to hear!" He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small white card, practically shoving it into Ren's hands. As he did, his fingers brushed against Ren's wrist, and Ren stiffened. "If you're available tomorrow afternoon, please stop by. I'm very excited to be working with you, Ren."

Yusuke didn't seem threatening in the slightest. An utterly harmless young man, too careful, too distracted to cause harm. And yet, Ren didn't feel safe. Afraid of everything and nothing all at once. Afraid of...something. Something he wouldn't say. Ren forced a smile. "Likewise, Yusuke."


5/17 – Tuesday
After School
Near Shibuya

Ryuji sized up the house – though it looked more like a shack to Ren. "Sure we got the right address? Doesn't seem like the kind of place the student of a super famous artist would live."

"It's probably just Madarame's studio or something," Ren said.

"Oh." Ryuji scratched his head. "Hm. Yeah I guess that makes sense."

Ann checked the card in her one hand and her phone's GPS in the other. "Well, this is definitely the right address," she said, and pocketed her phone. "Oh, Ren." She handed the card back to him.

Ren stared down at the little white piece of cardboard between her fingers. "Why?"

"Cause this Yusuke guy gave it to you," she said. "And it'd be both weird and rude for me to have it." Something in her sharp eyes was particularly pointed, but Ren was too tired to figure out what.

"Fine." Ren took the card and slipped it into his back pocket. He couldn't help but yawn.

"You okay dude?" Ryuji asked. "You've been, like, out of it all day."

"I'm fine," he said. He wasn't. He hadn't slept, some innate and inarticulate dread had kept his eyes from closing. A fear he wouldn't name. A memory not lost but misplaced.

"Bro, you kinda sound you got hit with a train." Ryuji's hand was on Ren's shoulder now, a light but firm grip. "Are you sure you're up to this?" He looked so concerned, that soft frown on his lips felt like agony.

"We can always do this again another day," Morgana added.

Ren shrugged Ryuji off, as gently as he could manage. "I'm not gonna slow us down," he replied.

Ann let out a sharp little laugh that dragged both Ryuji and Ren's confused gaze towards her. "You goddamn hippocrite," she grumbled. In a single smooth motion, she grabbed Ren's bag from off his shoulder and handed it to Ryuji. Morgana let out a little surprised yelp at the transfer. "Hold Morgana and stay here for a sec, please."

Ryuji gave a quick nod and cradled the bag with a surpassing amount of care considering how much its feline inhabitant had regularly pissed him off. Before anyone could protest, Ann grabbed Ren by the shoulders, spun the boy around and pushed him down the sidewalk, away from the shack.

"Hey!" Ren said, trying and failing to turn around to glare at her.

"Shush." She 'escorted' him around the corner, out of sight from the shack at least, if not most of the neighborhood. Then, Ann spun him back around. "Now hold still." She started to dig around in her bag.

"Okay, what the f–"

She paused her search to glare him into silence. "Hold. Still." Ann pulled out a small pink makeup bag and Ren blanched.

"No," he said. "Nuh uh, not a chance. Not happening."

Ann rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a baby, Ren." She unzipped the little pink bag.

"Please." The word left his lips before he could shove it back down, the terrified request bubbling out of him. Ann froze. "Please, no."

Ann looked at Ren, at what must have been the mortified expression on his face. She took a deep breath, not quite a sigh. "You look," she said, choosing her words carefully, kindly, "like a mess."

"I know," Ren said.

"I'm won't doll you up," Ann said. "You don't want makeup, I won't push that on you."

A relief. Just a little one, but relief nonetheless. "Thank you."

"But," she continued, "you agreed to model for this guy's painting. So, if you still want to do this today? Please, just let me put a little concealer on you to cover up the bags under your eyes."

Ren dug his fingernails into his palm. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh? Between surrender and sacrifice. "Okay," he said, finally.

Ann smiled softly. "And hey, you know I'm an independent model, right? I've gotten very good at making 'just a little a touch up' look invisible." She chuckled. "It's sort of my job." She pulled a little coin-shaped tin and a brush out of the makeup bag and tucked the bag under one arm. "No one else is going to know. I promise."

Ren would know. And that still felt like it was driving a tack between his shoulder blades. "Okay."

"Close your eyes," she said.

He did. A quiet click. Then the feeling of the brush against his face, under his left eye.

Brush off. "Breathe," she said. Brush back on.

He breathed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For being nervous or for being exhausted?" She laughed. "Either way, you don't need to be."

"I'm supposed to be–"

Ann cut him off. "You're supposed to be human." Now on to the right eye. "Humans make mistakes. And that's why Ryuji and I are here. That's what a team does. We support each other. So, Ren, fucking lean on us a bit." A pause. She lifted the brush from his skin. "Okay, done." Ren opened his eyes to see Ann holding up a small mirror. "Take a look."

He examined his reflection carefully. True to Ann's word, the bags under his eyes were gone, but her work was practically seamless. The thought of it still turned his stomach a little, but...he couldn't help feeling relived. And grateful. "Thank you."

She smiled and opened her arms for a hug that Ren gladly accepted.


There was something about the way Yusuke looked at Ren that made him feel calmer than he expected to be. It was a comforting sort of shallow, this wandering gaze that seemed neither to linger nor judge. Yusuke just kept glancing at him, staring at Ren's face or hands for a few seconds before returning to his canvas. Ren realized, it was as if Yusuke cared only about replication, of accuracy without care to the quality of what he might be replicating. He shifted at the thought, impulsively raising his hand to his chin.

"Ah," Yusuke said. "Please, don't move too much."

"Sorry," Ren said. He tried to get back into the position Yusuke had requested from him earlier: one leg crossed over the other, his fingers tangled in front of his chest, palms together. Almost like a prayer. As he did, he sent a pointed glance at Ann and Ryuji, who were observing the scene with respective expressions of amusement and boredom.

Ann caught the look. "So," she began, "Yusuke, right? How long have you been studying under Madarame?"

"My whole life," the young man replied without as much as a pause to his painting. "He took me in when I was very young and taught me everything I knew."

"Took you in?" Ann asked.

Yusuke frowned, and cleansed his brush, dipping it in white paint and making little careful strokes. "He and my mother were close friends. When she died, he raised me like his son."

Ryuji took that moment to join the conversation. "Shit, dude. Uh, I'm sorry for your loss."

The dark-haired artist shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I appreciate the words of concern...uh..." He finally looked over at something other than his own work, just a little furrowed-brow glance at Ryuji. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Ryuji," Ryuji replied.

"Ryuji, of course. And, Ann?"

Ann nodded. "Yep, that's me."

"Pleasure," Yusuke said, with a little absent smile, though his eyes had returned to his canvas, and then to Ren. "Out of curiosity, why did you decide to bring your friends along with you? I had assumed this would be just the two of us." His voice didn't sound particularly accusatory, he seemed to just be honestly curious.

"Ann's a model," Ren replied. "She's sort of an expert at this." He could practically feel her sheepish pride from across the room.

"And Ryuji?" Yusuke asked.

"Uh," Ren said.

"I'm just a big fan of Madarame!" Ryuji cut in, thankfully thinking quicker on his feet. "I mean...I only saw his paintings for the first time last night, but they were really cool."

Yusuke nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. "Well, Sensei happens to be out working at the moment, but I would be more than happy to introduce you when he returns tonight." He gave the three a warm smile. "Perhaps, if you are all are available, you could join us for dinner."

Ryuji scratched his head. "Uh. I mean, how far is your place from here? I don't want to be out too long."

Yusuke stopped painting. He lowered his brush and stared at Ryuji with the most dumbfounded expression on his face. Silence fell in the small studio.

"My mom doesn't like me staying out late," Ryuji said in explanation.

"What do you mean 'your place'?" Yusuke asked.

Ryuji quirked an eyebrow. "Like, your house? Where you live, dude."

"I live here," he said. "This is my home."

"Oh!" Ann said. "We...sort of thought this place might have been a studio."

"Sensei can't afford to a studio separate from his house." His voice was slightly different, some note of frustration underneath his soft demeanor.

"For real?" Ryuji crossed his arms. "How can he not afford to have a studio? Or, like, a decent house? The guy's paintings are being advertised by an art gallery. In Shibuya! That doesn't seem right."

Yusuke's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you implying about my teacher?"

"Woah, nothing," Ryuji said, throwing his hands up as an attempt at ceasefire. "Just...confusing is all."

Yusuke seemed about to say something else, but stopped. He took a deep breath, then stood up. "I think a visual aid would be more effective than a simple explanation." He crossed the room to a small bookshelf on the other side and pulled out a black plastic folder. Yusuke opened it, flipped through a handful of laminated pages and then stared down at one page in particular. "This," he said, his voice wavering slightly, "is the last painting my mother made before her death." With that, he turned the folder around to show the other three.

The painting, Ren decided, was beautiful. A black-haired woman dressed in red, staring into the pale mist that covered her body below the shoulders, in front of either the moon or a pale sun, and a single branch – barren but for four cherry blossoms. A name in the bottom left: Sayuri.

"She's beautiful," Ann said, sounding almost breathless. "Is it a self-portrait?"

"It is not," Yusuke replied. "But, thank you." He closed the folder. "My mother died rather suddenly, when I was very young. Sensei refused to sell Sayuri to any gallery, even after it became somewhat of a sensation in the art world. And then, a few years later, it was stolen."

"They ever find out who took it?" Ren asked.

Yusuke shook his head. "From that day, Sensei was a changed man. He hardly ever paints anymore, and when he does, it seems as if the act causes him suffering." He glared at Ryuji. "You ask why he can't afford a nicer home? This is why. Even the most prestigious artist in the world can't sell what he does not paint." Yusuke was obviously upset, but there was something about his anger that struck Ren as odd. He didn't seem particularly mad at Ryuji, there was too much bitterness in his voice for that.

"Dude, I'm sorry," Ryuji said, quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

Yusuke took a deep breath. "I am sorry as well. I let my temper get the best of me." He gazed at the canvas he'd left, then smiled softly at Ren. "It feels wrong to cut this off so soon, but...I'm afraid I don't feel much like painting either, at the moment. Perhaps we could do this again another time?"

Ren nodded. He still had questions, but he didn't want to cause Yusuke any more grief. "I'd be glad to."


"Guess we got the wrong Madarame, huh?" Ryuji said, as soon as the trio was out of earshot of the shack.

"I'm not sure," Ren replied. "There's something about Yusuke's story that doesn't seem right to me."

"You think he was lying?" Ann asked.

Ren leaned back against a nearby fencepost. "Not exactly. Less lying and more confused."

Ryuji gave him a blank stare.

Ren sighed. "Okay, so, like...I think he's not quite sure if he's right, himself. The way he talked about Madarame sounded second-hand, at points. It's possible Madarame fed him some sort of lie about not being able to paint, and Yusuke isn't sure if he believes it."

"So, he might be richer than he seems," Ann concluded.

Ryuji shook his head. "I don't buy that. Why would a guy lie to his own son just to keep living in some crappy shack? That doesn't seem right."

"I don't know," Ren said, "but I don't think we should close the case on Madarame yet. Maybe we can get in contact with Nakanohara, see if he knows anything."

"Maybe." Ann scratched her chin. "Hey, Morgana, what do you think?"

Silence. "Morgana?" Ren slipped the bag off his shoulder and peeked inside, assuming he'd catch a glance of the feline taking a nap inside. His bag was empty. "Shit."

"I'm here, I'm here, don't worry," came that familiar voice from a little to his left. He turned to see Morgana walking across the fence towards him, what looked like a mischievous smile on his cat face. "How did it take you that long to notice I was gone?"

"I'm tired," Ren said, honestly feeling a bit sheepish. "Where were you, anyway?"

Morgana sat down on his haunches, scratching one of his own ears with one paw. "I decided to take a look around while Yusuke was painting you."

"You missed a hell of a story," Ryuji said.

"Fill me in later," Morgana said. "Right now, I want you to confirm a theory for me. Can one of you enter Madarame's name and that shack into the Metaverse Navigator?"

"Oh, sure." Ren felt kind of stupid for not thinking of doing that earlier. He pulled out his phone and opened the app. "Ichiryusai Madarame. Madarame's shack."

"Keyword: Museum," Morgana said. At the other Thieves' glances, he smirked. "I've got a hunch."

Ren added the keyword. The eye in the center of his screen blinked slowly as the Navigator ran its search. Ren found himself holding his breath. Then those two worrisome words engulfed the screen: Match Found.