5/30 – Monday
Evening
Cafe Leblanc, Attic
That night's parcel had a small purple present box, big enough to hold maybe a ring or a little stone but little more. That, and a note.
"A friend of yours requested I send this to you," Ren read out loud, "and she wouldn't take no for an answer. I could have asked far more from her than I did; be relieved I requested nothing. The world has already taken more from her than I ever could." He grit his teeth. The benevolent witch tips her hand yet again, such a kind soul, such a fucking paragon. "Signed, O."
"A friend?" Mona tilted his head. "I wonder who that could be."
Ren shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe the gift..." He carefully pulled the lid off the box. Inside, a folded piece of white paper, and a little sky-blue origami crane. "Huh." He lowered the box so Mona could see inside.
The feline peeked in, then sat back on his haunches with a little thoughtful hum. "Does Lady Ann do origami?" he asked.
"Not that I know of," Ren said. "Maybe she picks it up in the future, or something. It's probably just a friend we haven't met yet." He pinched the white paper between his thumb and index, lifting it out and then placing the box itself down on the bed next to Morgana. He unwrapped it, and once more read aloud: "Ren. I spent a long time looking for a bird like the one you described, but I couldn't find any that was good enough to replace the one you'd lost. That's alright though, isn't it? You taught me to let go, after all, you helped me realize how important it was to look forward, not just back. I wouldn't have found her if it wasn't for you. So, I made you a new bird. It's not glass, but I hope it reminds you–"
The jar on his mother's mantle. Plain, and tall, and filled with little shards of azure glass. His name, his childhood heart, kept safe. But there was only dust there now. A faint outline where that jar had been. No name, no heart, a proud reminder cast aside. It was not his home anymore.
"Ren?" Morgana's concerned mewl cut through the haze.
Ren shook his head, blinking his eyes back to focus. "Sorry, sorry. Got distracted." Back to the note. "I hope it reminds you to keep your eyes up, keep looking forward. If I can help you at all like you've helped me, I think that's enough." He lowered the note into his lap.
"No signature," the not-a-cat mused. "Any idea who this might be from?"
Ren shrugged. "None."
"Hrmph." Morgana scratched at his ear with one paw. "Well, whoever she is, she seems very nice. And apparently you helped her out a whole lot."
"Guess so," Ren replied. He felt...he wasn't sure how he felt. Sort of melancholy, present in some sort of profound loss. And at the same time, relieved. Not just that he'd helped someone, but relieved at the loss itself. It felt like letting go. And that felt good.
5/31 – Tuesday
After School
Velvet Room, Lockdown
Ren stared into the blue bonfire, one hand on the hilt of his knife, body tense. Waiting to see those glowing orange eyes, the flash of a sword. But he did not. When it cleared, Lupin was sitting cross-legged on the blue ground, cane in his lap. Looking at once harmless and prideful.
"Sit," the great thief commanded.
Ren did so, adjusting his coat so he didn't end up sitting on his own coattails. One leg crossed, the other upright. "Half expected you to try and kill me again," he joked.
Lupin just stared at him. If he was irritated by the jab, he didn't show it. "You did well," he said, finally, sounding somewhat bitter at the admission. "Surviving against a Demon Lord is no small feat. And yet, you managed to defeat one with nothing but your wits and a few playing cards. Quite impressive."
Ren's memory of their dream conversation was still fuzzy, but he remembered enough. "It wasn't just my wits. I told you; I wasn't fighting him alone."
Lupin chuckled. "Ah, yes," he said. "Your companions fought to their last as well. They deserve praise, perhaps, but I owe them nothing beyond that."
"And what do you owe me?" Ren prompted.
Lupin seemed irritated he had to specify. "A reward. Your show was worth as much, Thief, and I will grant you recompense for your valor." He gestured to Ren with one hand. "You have proved yourself worthy of my strength."
A little spark of irritation at the young man's phrasing. "So, what, now that we've risked our lives, you're just going to start stepping in again when you feel like it?"
Lupin responded far calmer than Ren had expected him to, not so much as an ounce of fury in his voice. "Maybe you don't think as highly of your actions as I do. But you have risked your life, and the lives of your companions, to prove your justice. To prove you are not simply talk. That is worth far more than a simple return to normalcy, don't you think?"
Ren stared at Lupin. He wasn't sure how to process that. Something though, something stuck out to him, a sharp curiosity like a thorn in the bottom of his foot. "You expected me to surrender, didn't you?" In fairness, Ren almost had. In the Palace, he had been a breath away from calling on Arsene's power. It was Yusuke who had prevented that, his friends who had stopped him. They hadn't given him the opportunity for that surrender.
"Perhaps I did," Lupin replied noncommittally. "And perhaps this is my apology for that expectation." He paused for a moment. "Or, perhaps I am simply recognizing your efforts as such. Whatever helps you get to sleep at night."
Ren couldn't help the belt of laughter that bubbled out of him. "And here I thought I had you all figured out," he said. "You weird French prick."
Lupin smirked. "I'll allow that, boy. Just this once."
A quiet laugh shared between two cards of the same suit.
"So," Ren said, finally. "If not normality, what sort of reward are you offering me?"
"You have honed your blade against a master's," Lupin began, "and though you are still far greener than I would like, I have seen your potential firsthand."
"Let me guess," Ren cut him off, "more sparring matches?"
"Yes," Lupin said. "You asked me to train you. And it would do you good, perhaps, to emphasize some humility in that prideful chest."
Ren couldn't tell if the young man was being serious or simply trying to get a rise out of him. "Gee," he replied, "thanks."
"Though," Lupin added, scratching his chin with exaggerated effort, "honing oneself against a sharper talent is all well and good, but there is far more to be learned through other means. Perhaps..." He snapped his fingers, as if he'd just thought of the idea. "To hone one's blade alongside a master's."
Ren just stared at him as the implication set in. "Are you...telling me to call on you more often? Like, against weaker foes?"
"I reserve the right to refuse your summons," Lupin said, "but yes." Before Ren had a chance to speak again, he continued. "There is the issue of your stamina, of course. To improve, you must stretch yourself beyond your normal limits. To wield my strength effectively, when the time comes, you should become comfortable with it. Train your heart to most effectively wield my blade."
Lupin was making a fairly frightening amount of sense. There was the young man's overinflated ego still, obviously, but this was far from his typical attitude. Ren found himself smiling. "That sounds like a good deal to me."
Lupin nodded, smiling in his own prideful way. "We shall shake on it," he declared, "as gentlemen do." And, as he had long before, he pulled the glove off his hand. His...his left hand. Lupin extended it; Ren found his gaze drawn to a single point. One particular spot. A wrinkle against Lupin's wrist, a natural line in his skin. A pale scar against that line.
Ren wanted to say something. He hadn't a clue what, but...it felt far too important to go unacknowledged. "Like gentlemen," he finally replied. Slowly, he pulled the glove off his own left hand, fingers brushing against the mirrored scar on his own wrist. And he shook Lupin's hand.
"A gentleman," Lupin said in a quiet voice that sent a shiver down Ren's spine, "may not always show his scars. To wear them is a mark of pride, to hide them is a mark of humility."
"Humility?" Ren asked. He felt as though he were floating, disconnected, once again in some sort of dream.
"A scar is a death avoided," he elaborated. "It is a sign that one has faced their own demise, and yet, still seen the sunrise of another day." Lupin paused. "Do you know why I am telling you this?"
Ren found himself nodding. "I am thou," he said.
And Lupin's orange eyes curled with a smile. "And thou art I," he finished. Then, in a flash of blue, he was gone.
5/31 – Tuesday
Evening
Cafe Leblanc, Attic
Ren didn't much enjoy speaking over the phone, but there were some things better said than typed.
Ren
Hey, Mishima
I had a few questions about some of the requests on the Phan-Site
Could you call me when you get the chance?
And less than a minute later, his phone rang. "This is Ren," he said into his cell, sitting down on his bed to take off his shoes.
"Hey Ren!" Mishima said in a rushed voice, breathing a little heavier than he normally did. "Sorry, just. Really excited to talk to you about this."
"No kidding," Ren chuckled. "Deep breath first."
Mishima did so. "Uh, so, what were your questions?"
"The requests are all anonymous," Ren replied, "which is good, that makes a lot of sense. But there are some people who didn't put the name of whose heart they want changed."
"Do the Phantom Thieves need a name to change someone's heart?" Mishima wondered aloud. Ren almost felt himself break into a cold sweat before the boy continued. "Wait, yeah, of course they do. How else would they know whose heart they're supposed to change."
"Right," Ren quickly added. "So, for those nameless requests, could you maybe – I dunno – pull up the information of the person who made them?"
A pause. Ren heard something like the clicking of a keyboard in the silence. "I don't think so," Mishima said slowly. "It's sort of a web security thing. Everyone has to make an account to send a request, but the request form itself doesn't save anyone's info. I don't store who submitted each request."
"You don't?" Ren asked. He stood up, adjusting his phone against his ear so he could change his shirt while still listening to Mishima. "But there are some requests where that same person has responded to comments. How could that work if you don't know who they are?"
"Okay, uh." Another pause. Mishima sighed into his phone. "It's kinda complicated to explain. Basically, when someone makes a request, the site generates a special key for them and a matching lock for the request. If they want to edit their request or add comments, their account has to have the right key."
"And you can see the keys," Ren said. "Cause you're the admin."
"Well, yeah, I can," Mishima continued. "But to make the lock for the request, there's this algorithm that does a whole ton of math to the key. So I can see the lock, and I can see what keys each user has, but I can't tell what keys match what locks. If I wanted to check who made a specific request, I'd have to try every single key on the site."
This was all pretty alien to Ren, but he was pretty sure he understood the gist of it. "So, no way of knowing who made a specific request."
"Not without a whole lotta time and luck," Mishima replied.
"Gotcha." Where did that leave them? It didn't feel like something he was comfortable leaving be, simply accepting the inability to help those people.
"I could–" Mishima began, then stopped.
"Sorry?" Ren said.
"Oh, nothing, uh." Pause. "It was probably a fine idea, but like, I dunno. Kinda dumb."
"Well," Ren laughed, "I'd really like to hear what you have to say."
Fingers against a keyboard. "I guess I could be better about asking people to put names in their requests. Like, make a post about it, put a little thing in the request form and make comments on the nameless requests."
It wasn't exactly a structural solution, but it was far better than nothing. "That sounds good, Mishima. I think..." He trailed off as he changed his pants, trying to gather his thoughts. "I think some people might just be scared. They might want help, but are scared of it at the same time."
"Yeah," Mishima said quietly. "I know what that's like, I think."
"So, some encouragement might be just what they need," Ren continued. "Just some assurance that it's okay, that they're seen, I guess. You're a great person for that, Mishima."
Silence. Maybe a sniffle. "Thanks, Ren."
He smiled. "Yeah, of course."
"Uh," Mishima cleared his throat, "anything else you wanted to ask?"
Ren was about to say no, but then his eyes fell on the black buisness card on his desk, the one Mitsuru had given him. "I...might have found someone with some connections."
"Connections?" A sound like adjustment. "What kinda connections?"
Ren rubbed the back of his neck. How to explain this. "There's this woman – I guess you could call her a friend of mine – who introduced me someone who's in 'information technology.' Dunno what that means specifically, but she was able to help me find out some stuff about a really suspicious person."
"Info tech?" Mishima muttered. A second of silence. "Shit!" Then, a loud crash.
Ren jumped. "Mishima?!"
"I'm here, I'm here!" The boy yelped from the other end of the line. "Sorry, I kinda fell out of my chair. Did you uh. Did you get a hacker to help you? Like a real honest-to-god hacker?"
"I guess?" Ren shrugged, though the gesture almost certainly didn't translate over the phone. "She never said she was a hacker, but she did send me an email she pulled off someone's computer, I think."
"Holy shit," Mishima replied.
"Yeah." Ren couldn't help but smirk. "You wanna meet her?"
Mishima scoffed. "Uh, yes!?"
"Cool." He chuckled. "I'll let her know."
"Uh," Mishima started, then stopped again. "Does she seem like a trustworthy person? I dunno, I just..." He trailed off.
"I trust her," Ren said. As adamantly as he had refused Mitsuru's offer, there was something about the woman that made Ren feel sort of at ease. And Mitsuru trusted Fuuka – or whatever her name was – so that was good enough for him.
Pause. Another adjustment. "Okay. I think, uh, you've got a pretty good nose for this? So I'll trust her too."
"Thanks," Ren said. "You're the best, Mishima."
"Takes one to know one," Mishima shot back. And he snorted with laughter, honest and almost ugly if it hadn't been so beautiful, and the sound spiraled around Ren's chest like a song. Like the most wonderful thing in the world.
6/1 – Wednesday
After School
Shujin Academy, Maruki's Office
"I'm sorry," Ren said before he'd finished sitting down.
"Why's that?" Maruki asked, his voice entirely curious, not an ounce of malice or hurt.
Ren rubbed the back of his head. "I said I'd meet up with some friends today. For something kinda important." He'd completely forgotten about his appointment with Maruki when he agreed to head into Mementos with the others that afternoon. "So I can't do an hour-long session."
Maruki smiled, and waved a hand. "Nothing at all to be sorry for, Ren. We can just end a bit shorter today, if that still works for you. How about a half-hour?"
Ren nodded. "I think that's fine."
"Good." Maruki picked a juice box up off the table – did he ever drink anything other than apple juice? – and took a long sip. "What should we work on today?"
"Not enough time for memory stuff, huh?" Ren rubbed the back of his neck. "What about–"
The feeling of a cold object clutched in his hand. A woman's voice, a whisper like a cruel laugh: "Memento Mori, little Trickster."
Ren froze. What the fuck was that? The words had felt less like they'd crossed his mind as much as been spoken directly into it, as if someone had opened his skull and whispered across his brain. "Memento mori?" he repeated.
"Oh?" Maruki put the juice box down. "Are you working on ancient philosophy right now or something?"
Ren just stared at him.
"Memento mori," Maruki said. "It's Latin. 'Remember that you must die,' I think."
Ren felt very cold. "Must." Must die? Not will, but must. That phrasing felt far more terrifying than he could possibly articulate.
"It's meant to give emphasis to the inevitability of death," Maruki continued. "Ancient Greeks had a similar concept, but Christianity was where it really took off. Heaven and hell, after all." He laughed. "I'm sorry. My roommate in university was a philosophy major, and he wouldn't let me forget it."
Was it Ren's own mind that'd formed the words? Another memory, bubbling up to the surface? Or something else entirely?
"Ren?" He snapped back to reality to see Maruki leaning over, trying to meet the boy's eyes. "Is there something about that phrase you wanted to talk about?"
"I don't know," Ren admitted. "I guess it just came to mind."
And he watched Maruki's expression fall. "Have you been thinking about death, recently?"
It was as though the room had pressurized. It felt almost suffocating, suddenly. "I haven't," he said, as if haste would dispel the feeling. "I'm not – I haven't. Not since...not in a long while." The words came before he could process them, and as soon as he could, he found them incomprehensible.
"Deep breaths," Maruki reminded him.
Ren forced his own mouth shut. Forced himself to breathe through the pressure, let it wash over him and then fade away, like so much seafoam on the shore.
"Could you say what reminded you of that phrase?" Maruki asked.
Ren tried to think of an explanation, and he thought of the photograph. "I guess I'm worried what sort of thing I'll remember. Not just that it'll hurt, but that it'll be...like, bad." Those faces from the photograph. Those strangers, and his friends. What if something had happened to them, under his watch? Assuming he was still the leader of the Thieves at that point, what if...
"Ah." Maruki nodded, still serious but looking a little less tense. His concern addressed, perhaps. "Well, that's certainly understandable. With any luck, that won't be the case, but it's certainly possible you've forgotten something like a..." He paused, maybe not wanting to elaborate further. "Something bad. Something that might require more than just processing trauma."
"Would it be better not to remember?" Ren wondered aloud. "If that's the case, at least. Should I just let myself forget? I dunno."
Maruki was silent for a few seconds. "Well," he replied, "let's say, for example, that you dropped a dish on the floor. I know that wouldn't necessarily be traumatic, but let's assume that you immediately repressed the memory of breaking it. The next day, would that dish still be broken?"
Ren nodded. "The damage is done whether I remember it or not?" he guessed.
"Yes," Maruki said. "Unfortunately, cognition doesn't possess the power to simply reverse that damage. Forgetting will save you from thinking of it; that's why you forgot in the first place, to protect yourself. But it will not undo the thing itself."
If only. He'd feel a lot safer if he didn't have to remember, if he wasn't obligated to dive into some version of the future where he'd tried and failed. Safer, but...perhaps, not better.
6/1 – Wednesday
After School
Mementos
"So this is the heart of the masses," Fox said, barely more than a mumble. He stood next to the escalator on the entrance platform, staring down the tunnel towards Mementos proper, the tiles ringing a tube like a spiral, down and down and down. "I hadn't expected it to feel quite so...oppressive."
"Kinda claustrophobic, huh?" Skull rolled his neck, stretching first one leg then the other. "Like, the subway's bad enough as is, but this place feels so much worse."
"I didn't know enclosed spaces bothered you so much," Panther said, hand on her chin.
Skull shrugged. "I mean, s'not a big deal or anything, but I'm not a fan. Specially when it's really busy, and you gotta get packed into the train like a buncha minnows."
"Sardines," Mona corrected.
"Whatever," Skull grumbled back. "You know what I mean."
Panther glanced towards Ren. "You said you wanted to talk strategy once we got down here?"
He nodded. "Yeah." Unsure of exactly how to best phrase the matter, he reached up and tapped his mask. "Arsene's going to be fighting with us again today. So we should make sure we're set up for me to use him; if you're all okay with that."
Skull, instantly, broke into an enormous grin. "Hell yes. About time that guy started kicking ass again."
Fox smiled awkwardly. "That power is rather intimidating, but I have no issues with you using it, Joker."
"Wait." Panther quirked her head. "Didn't you say he was picky about what enemies he, like, thought were worthy? How do you know he'll want to fight at all today?"
Ren rubbed the back of his neck, contemplating whether he should tell the others about Lockdown or the dreams. Ultimately, he judged them both a little too insane-sounding. "We've been talking, I guess. Basically, uh, he said if we could beat Madarame on our own, he'd reward me or whatever. So he's gonna let me call on him a little more than usual, for today at least."
"We all need to train," Mona added. "Get used to using our Personas, fighting as a team. Joker's not the only one, don't forget that."
"Right," Skull said. "Crazy power takes a lot to get used to, right?"
Ren nodded. "Yeah. You probably felt what that was like with the skill cards."
Fox chuckled. "Yes, I'm still rather stiff from those."
"Alright then," Panther said. She cracked her knuckles. "You're our vanguard then, Joker. How do you want us to support you?"
He had been smiling before, but he felt a newfound grin break across his lips. "You sure you guys are cool with me taking point? I don't wanna steal all the glory for myself." It felt sort of...uncomfortable to take the spotlight completely. If they wanted it from him, he'd do so, but he didn't at all want to force his companions out of the way. Beyond being their leader, they were his friends, after all.
Skull shrugged. "Whatever works, dude."
"No objections here," Fox added.
"So long as you save a few Shadows for us," Panther teased.
And Mona just shrugged.
"Alright then." He took a deep breath, soaking in the feeling of this moment, their unwavering confidence in him. "Mona, I'd like you to stay close to me. I'm going to be using mostly physical attacks, so I'll probably need some more healing than normal. Otherwise, you can keep an eye out and make sure we're not being ambushed." A fluffy thumbs-up. "Panther, stick to my left flank, and Fox, stick to my right. I'll be trusting you to keep me safe. I'm gonna be hitting one target at a time, so you two should be looking to prune down the crowd." Panther leaned on Fox's shoulder, and the two exchanged a nod. "Skull, you're my front guard. I'm going to need you calling out targets loud and clear, so I can focus on working with Arsene. You think you can handle threat assessment?"
"Yeah, of course!" He balanced the crimson pole on his shoulders, resting both arms on it like some sort of buff scarecrow. "I've been watching how you do this leader shit, after all. So, I can probably handle at least that much."
"Oh good," Mona grumbled. "My confidence is at an all-time high."
"Actually," Fox started, then paused. "I...um. Well, I don't want to be presumptuous, but considering you'll want to eliminate distractions, Joker, should someone else perhaps hold onto some of the skill cards for the moment? Just in case they're needed."
He thankfully hadn't taken the leftover cards out of his bag after they'd fought Madarame, but they'd otherwise completely slipped Ren's mind. "Oh, yeah, sure thing. Good thinking Fox." He fished out the first bundle and then glanced at the others. "Uh. So, who wants em?"
Panther snorted. "Fox. Fox wants them. Also, he's just the best person to have them."
"Yeah," Skull chimed in. "Crazy reflexes and all." He glanced towards Fox, gesturing wildly. "Like, when you cut Madarame's paintbrush? That was super fast, I couldn't even see it."
"I see," Fox said. He looked a bit reticent, but like he was still enjoying the praise.
"They're all yours," Ren said, and tossed him a bundle. "Think you can handle holding onto them?"
Fox chuckled, perhaps enjoying the obvious challenge. "I will do my very best."
There had been sixteen of them, at first count. Now there were four. An oozing Slime, snoring away on the ground, soon to be incinerated. A pair of floating, crimson-dressed Silky, cautious, just out of range. And, dead ahead, an Archangel, hovering in midair, sword raised.
"Come no further!" it demanded, though its voice wavered.
"Okay," Ren said, and placed a hand on his mask. "Arsene, shoot to kill." A sound like the bellowing crack of gunpowder, and a bolt of crackling energy tore through the air. Then, it tore through the Shadow.
"Three more!" Skull called as the Archangel fell back, bursting into dust before it hit the ground.
"We've got the gross one!" Panther yelled back. Ren saw the glow of flame outside the corner of his vision, and a sound like water flash-freezing.
He, however, was on the verge of dropping. "Just like a muscle," Ren muttered. "Just like a muscle. It tears then it heals. Fuck, this hurts." Green across his vision, the ache like a thick veil lifted. "Thanks Mona."
"Incoming!" Skull's voice, then the triumphant shriek of a Silky. Her hands outstretched, a ball of frost like a cold bonfire forming between her fingertips. Lucky for Ren, she hadn't been smart enough to aim for his Skull. The blond whipped around, spinning his red wood pole from one hand to another, and bringing it against the Shadow's side with a sickening crack. Her next shriek was one of pain.
Ren hoped to make it her last. "Arsene, just your sword will do." His mask aflame, then the flash of steel catching the light, and the Shadow split cleanly in half.
The remaining Silky looked on in horror as its companion melted into so much black dust.
"Well?" Ren asked her, his voice hoarse. "You want to come die too?"
She seemed to contemplate her options. Then, the Shadow reached into her bodice and withdrew a small, pale object – Ren recognized it as a skill card. She dropped it, and turned and bolted, as fast across the tracks as she could.
"Are you sure you're okay with letting her go?" Fox asked.
"Hey, we let Shadows go all the time," Skull said with a shrug. "Plus, she gave us some loot, so no biggie."
"What he said," Ren added. He tried to laugh, but ended up coughing instead.
Footsteps to his left. "Water?" Panther offered.
"Thank you." He took the bottle gladly, and screwed off the cap with shaking hands.
"Holding up alright?" she asked.
Ren lowered the bottle, swallowing about four mouthfuls, and nodded. "I think me and Arsene are starting to get a hang of this. Like, not using more strength than we need to. Still super tiring, but that's helping a lot."
"Good," Panther replied. "Now drink."
And he drank without protest.
Yoshimori Sakoda's Shadow stood in front of the spiraling, fractal-like tunnel with those massive veins traveling deep into Mementos. And he sneered. "It's a dog-eat-dog world, didn't'cha know? If those guys actually had any guts, they wouldn't have let me boss 'em around like that in the first place. Ain't it right for the big dog to get all the scraps?"
"Like hell!" Skull snapped back.
Fox drew his blade. "The world is far kinder than you assume."
"Besides, you're not the 'big dog', you're just some creep who's too much of a coward to get his hands dirty," Panther added.
Sakonda's expression turned from pride to rage. "A'ight then," he growled, "seems you all are in need of a demonstration. Lemme show you..." And the dark pooled at his feet, bubbling and spitting, rising up until it engulfed him completely. "...what the big dog is capable of!" And the pitch burst like a cocoon, freeing the snarling snapping head – no, heads, two of them – of a canine Shadow.
Mona let out a yelp and dove behind Ren. "Why did it have to be a dog?" he whined. "Couldn't he have been a normal demon, or some kind of mean snowman?"
"Sorry," Ren chuckled. "Sorta out of my control."
"Well," Mona grumbled, "at least beat him quick."
"Aye-aye." Ren took a step towards the Shadow Sakonda, raising his hand to his mask.
Sakonda barked out a laugh. "What?" he said, both heads speaking in the same echoed voice. "You plan on going mano-a-mano? Tough guy like you thinks he can take me all by himself?"
"Well," Ren replied. "Not me, exactly. I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine." He couldn't help but laugh as he pulled the mask from his face. "Arsene Dusk!"
And the Shadow was sent flying towards the left wall by the force of a punch from a taloned fist. An ache shot up Ren's right arm as Arsene spat an expletive, shaking his own hand off. "Harder head than he looks," the Persona grumbled.
"Careful," Ren warned. "We're not trying to kill the guy, don't forget."
"For the fifth time," Arsene snarled, "I know what I'm doing!" He raised a hand, wings spread wide. Sakonda's Shadow stumbled back to its feet, just in time to watch Arsene bring his hand down.
A single shriek, and black fire erupted from the ground beneath the canine's feet. A swirling tempest of unholy energy, sweeping the Shadow up with its unholy screams. Unlike Madarame's Shadow, this one hadn't thought to bring a barrier. When the accursed spell faded, so did Sakonda, his body letting off faint smoke and his twin-headed breath coming in gasps.
"You," the Shadow said. "You beat me? I'm...I'm strong. I'm strong." It sounded almost like a sob. Then, pitch melted off him, taking the canine form with it, leaving only a cowering young man. "I'm strong, aren't I?"
Ren would have replied, but the moment he opened his mouth, reality tilted inexplicably ten degrees to the right and he fell onto one knee. Arsene faded back into his mask.
A pair of strong hands on his shoulders, pulling him back up. "Isn't this a dog-eat-dog world?" Skull said. "Time for you to get eaten."
Sakonda yelped, scrambling back towards the edge of the platform.
"Don't traumatize the guy," Panther chastised. Then, she addressed the Shadow. "Look. Just admit you lost, you're acting real pathetic right now."
Sakonda lowered his gaze to the floor. "I lost," he said. "You beat me. So, I've gotta do what you say."
"What nonsense," Fox replied. "Your life is your own. We care not to hold your leash."
"Then," he said, looking at the Thieves with a confused expression, "why did you fight me?"
"We weren't fighting for us," Ren said, struggling to form the words, his tongue feeling half-numb in his mouth. "We were fighting for Takanashi. And everyone else you blackmailed."
Realization across Sakonda's face. "Oh. I get it. You want to help them, huh?" He laughed, a little quiet chuckle. "Sure. I'll stop blackmailing everybody. And I'll apologize to 'em too. It's not right, I knew that." The young man started to glow, faintly. Ren could almost see the floor through him. "Thanks. Uh, for reminding me."
Ren nodded. "Go do what's right."
"Yeah." And the Shadow smiled. "Will do, big dog." Then, he faded from view completely. Nothing but a bead of light, a little crystal hovering in the air, shimmering and ephemeral.
"Finally," Panther groaned, stepping off the escalator and stretching her arms to either side with a strained yawn. "I thought we'd never reach the next platform."
"How come Mona gets to ride piggyback?" Skull grumbled.
"My paws hurt from carrying you bozos around," Mona replied snootily, sitting on Ren's shoulders.
"Besides," Ren replied, "he still needs to drive us back to the entrance. So he deserves a bit of rest."
"Maybe more than a bit," Mona squeaked back.
"Is that the door you all mentioned?" Fox asked, motioning to the closed gate at the end of the platform.
"Looks like it," Panther said. "You wanna check if it'll open, Joker?"
Ren shrugged, as gently as he could as to not displace Mona. "The last door only opened after Kamoshida confessed. So this one probably won't until Madarame does. Might as well check though." He walked towards the far door, rest of the Thieves in tow.
Something caught Ren's eye. Off the left side, one of the flat pillars on the other side of the tracks that flanked the platform. It was sort of...odd. Discolored, maybe. Like the tiles didn't quite fit. There was something about it that itched at the back of his head.
"Joker?" Mona asked. A small paw against his cheek. "What's up?"
"Not sure," he mumbled. "Just a weird feeling." Ren reached into his pocket for the broken glasses and extracted them, glancing at the pillar through them.
Blue lettering. Flowing, eloquent text from top to bottom. A simple, unassuming statement: "What Must You Re-mem-ber?" Re, mem and ber split up, stacked like a totem pole.
"What must you remember?" he repeated, aloud.
"Sorry?" Panther said.
"There's writing, right there." Ren pointed to the pillar. "I think..." He trailed off, head spinning, gears turning. It was as if his brain was trying very hard to remind him of something, remind him of–
"Memento Mori, little Trickster."
Ren felt his spine stiffen in his back. Remember. Remember that you must die. "Memento Mori," he said. And the pillar burst open.
The Thieves recoiled as one, expecting some rain of shrapnel, but the expulsion was far from harmful. Tiles and cement peeled away from the pillar, out and then down, forming a bridge, extending out to the very edge of the platform. A tile bridge, from the Thieves into a yawning darkness inside that pillar, an impossible path tilting downward.
"What in the world..." Fox muttered.
"Some sort of secret passage?" Panther asked.
"That's impossible!" Mona spluttered. "Someone...who has the power to mess with mass cognition that precisely?" A sharp pain on either side of Ren's head.
"Claws," he reminded Mona.
And the pain subsided. "Sorry, sorry," the feline replied. "This is just...I don't know how...who made this?"
Ren stared down into the void, that inviting abyss. "I don't know," he replied. "But I kinda want to see where it goes."
Thanks to hurricanesunny on Tumblr for inspiring the image of Ren giving Morgana a piggyback ride.
