6/19 – Sunday
Afternoon
Shibuya, Teikyu Accessway
Makoto was silent for a little while, facing the Thieves. "So, it's time then?" she asked. "You're going to change Zebul...or, Kaneshiro's, heart?"
Ren shook his head. "Not quite." He tried to figure out how to describe it to her, but he settled with the simplest explanation. "Our process requires what we describe as infiltration. We need to access his inner world, find a path to his heart, and then we can send our calling card."
"Oh," she said, a little surprised. "I didn't expect the calling card to be an essential part of your methods."
"We wouldn't be able to steal a heart without it," Yusuke added. "But as Ren said, we cannot act until our route is secured."
Makoto raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you mean by route, but...you're the ones with experience. I'll leave this to you." She half turned, like she was making to leave.
"We'll get him," Ann said. Her voice steady, confident. "Just wait, we'll change his heart."
Makoto smiled at her, and nodded. "Best of luck," she said, and walked back towards the exit to Central Street. She looked hesitant, uncomfortable, far more than could be expected from being told that everything was under control. But then again, it wasn't under her control. No matter the circumstances, that was probably a bitter pill to swallow.
Ren glanced towards the other Thieves. "Anything left to do before we head into Kaneshiro's Palace?" he asked.
Yusuke shook his head. "I've been itching for this moment for the last week. I'm more than ready."
"Same here," Ryuji added, grinning and cracking his knuckles. "That scumbag is gonna get what's coming to him."
Ann chuckled, and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "As per usual, I've got enough snacks for a long haul. Nothing left to do but head inside."
"Looks like we're all ready," Morgana said, wiggling his head out of Ren's bag. "Let's get out of sight, and then meet in the Metaverse!"
An exchange of nods, and the four teens split, heading in random directions with the same destination in their hearts and phones. Junya Kaneshiro – Inferno – Shibuya Central Street.
6/19 – Sunday
Afternoon
Kaneshiro's Palace, Entrance
Ren had expected heat. Perhaps it had been the codephrase – Inferno – but he had been bracing himself for some sweltering desert. Instead, he found himself shivering. If it hadn't been for his change in outfit, and the fact a small fuzzy creature with a yellow bandana now gazed up at him, that temperature would have been his only clue that he'd entered another world. "Pretty chilly," Ren said, pocketing his phone – his breath making a faint fog form in the air in front of him.
"I'm warm," Mona said, confidently. "I've got lots of fur."
"You do indeed," Ren chuckled. "Come on, let's go find the others." He jogged out of the alleyway, keeping his eyes peeled for any of the other Thieves – and himself face to face with a familiar crimson-dressed young woman immediately.
"Joker," she said, with a curt nod and a smile.
"Panther," he replied in kind. "Glad you could make it."
"Holy shit!" Skull exclaimed from farther down the empty facsimile of Shibuya's Central Street. He walked towards the trio, hugging himself and shuddering. "It's so fucking cold, what the hell?!"
"Ironic choice of words," Fox added, heading out from under a nearby awning to join his allies. "I might simply be projecting from the codephrase, but that might indeed be where we find ourselves."
It took Ren a solid few seconds to catch Fox's drift. "Wait, you're suggesting Kaneshiro sees Shibuya as hell?"
"Inferno is the name of one of Dante's three Divine Comedies," Fox replied. "It would stand to reason."
"That's s-s-stupid," Skull replied, stuttering his way through his retort as a shudder overtook him. "If it's hell, why would it be so cold? And why would it be fucking snowing, for that matter!?"
It was snowing. Ren hadn't really noticed it before, but little specks of white were descending...no, wait. He reached out and caught a 'snowflake,' the pale thing turning into a white smear as soon as it made contact with his glove. "It's not snow," he said. "It's ash." And he looked up towards the sky.
The heavens were on fire. Orange and red and grey, entwined and floating, no single sun but an entire plane of flaming brightness. And from it, the ash fell.
"Cool," Panther said, her voice a little strained. "Cool. Cool. Already hate this, really weirded out right now. Let's find Kaneshiro so we can get out of here."
"Yeah," Ren said. "Uh. Where do we go?"
No one had any answer. The Thieves glanced in every direction, but Ren couldn't see anything that looked distinct. It was all empty streets, empty buildings, ash and the flaming sky.
"We could just wander around?" Fox offered. "We'll find a cognition or Shadow around here somewhere, probably. It is a Palace after all."
"I really don't want to just walk around here any more than I have to," Mona complained. His black fur was already starting to become spotted with white from the ash. He shook himself, but that only spread the ash further, and he groaned. "My fur's gonna be all gross and ashy after this."
"Oh, I gotcha." Skull reached down, and with one smooth motion, scooped up Mona into his arms and cradled him. Then, at the perplexed glances from the other Thieves – including the feline in his arms – he shrugged. "What? Friend needed a hand, like I'm gonna leave him hanging."
Ren smiled, and he spotted what might have been a little smile on the edges of Mona's grumpy but silent frown. "Oh, wait, got an idea." He dug around in his pocket for the broken glasses – he'd nearly forgotten they'd existed after the nearly three weeks since he'd used them last – and put them on. And there it was. Immediately obvious after a quick glance around, a faintly-glowing-golden structure in the distance, farther into this fake downtown Shibuya. "This way. It shouldn't be that far." And with that, he set off towards the building in the distance.
Far more chilling than the literal cold, than the frigid breeze or that chilled ash, was the emptiness of the city. But Ren could feel the presence of no small amount of eyes tracking the Thieves, through alleyways and across streets. From the locked buildings, or from distant windows. Watching, without form, little crimson specks of darkness that would flicker out of sight again as soon as Ren turned to look at them. It was unnerving, those little moments of movement knocking a tension into his lungs that would not leave, a knot that would not unknot. Although harrowing, it was an uneventful journey that found the Thieves in front of their destination.
"Hello there, honored guests," a facsimile of a woman said in a voice distorted by pitch. She was clearly a Shadow, that haunting blank mask disguising her features. She was wearing what Ren could only describe as 'secretary attire,' standing in front of an enormous pair of iron doors that extended into a massive wall, stretching dozens of feet up and cleanly cutting through multiple nearby buildings, as if it had been dropped from the flaming sky. "Please state your names."
Ren glanced to the other Thieves, who looked just as confused as he was. "Who are you supposed to be?" he asked.
"I am Salvation's guide," she said, almost singing the words. "I keep the entrance, and I show lost souls towards their eternal reward."
Yet another un-person, warped by Kaneshiro's distortion. "Should we be up front with her?" he asked Mona. "Or just play along?"
Mona, still cradled in Skull's arms, shrugged. "How should I know?" he protested. "You're the leader, Joker, it's up to you."
Ren turned back to the Shadow. There was definitely a potential to get caught up in this Palace's warped rules if they acted carelessly, but if they could convince this woman to simply let them in the front door? It would probably save them all some headache. "My name is Joker," he said, with as much confidence as he could muster, "and these are my associates. We have a meeting with your ruler, with...he who orchestrates salvation." That was probably pretentious enough to convince the absurdity that governed this place.
The Shadow seemed to size Ren up, then pulled a clipboard out of who-knows-where and skimmed through it. "I'm sorry to report," she said, and she did sound sorry, "that there is no 'Joker' listed under guests. I will be sure to place your name down as a prospective." She flicked a pen out of her sleeve and began to write. "I would suggest you find another lost soul to provide invitation."
Invitation. "I'm guessing," Ren said, loud enough for all the other Thieves to hear clearly, "that someone might stand to gain from inviting us. Some sort of pyramid structure, perhaps?"
The Shadow said nothing, either disinterested or unsure.
"Well," Ren continued, drawing his dagger with slow and deliberate purpose, "so much for diplomacy. I hate to do this, but I think you'll find we're guests of exceptional importance. And you would do well to let us in, right now." The click of a submachine gun, clatter of tiny paws onto the ash-covered concrete, a blade sliding from a sheath, and the thump of a bat into a gloved hand.
He couldn't tell from her expressionless face, but it almost seemed that the Shadow glanced up at the Thieves with some measure of distain. "Those who threaten violence," she said, and she snapped her fingers, "are unworthy of salvation."
Part of the wall slid open. More than a single part, four separate slats, each no more than a three-foot-wide square opening. And through each of those openings, an identical beast was loosed into the clearing. They were paled, maned like lions, with not one head but three, each of those heads gnashing metal teeth that sparked in the ashen air. They advanced in unison, slavering with no lack of obvious hunger, but trained well enough to follow orders.
"Uh," Ren said. "Shit."
"I shall be sure to update your status," the Shadow said, "from prospective to meat." And she snapped her fingers again. In unison, the quartet of three-headed beasts stopped, and their triplicate heads all swiveled towards the Thieves. Those sparking teeth gnashed, and Ren could see a glow forming in their throats–
"Eligor!" the name leapt into his throat. Ren's mask shattered.
"Carmen!" Panther's voice rang out in near unison. The twin Personas, side by side, between the Thieves and potential harm.
Duodecimal bursts of flame, flowing into each other like an absolute wave, colliding with the guardian Personas with enough force to stagger the ethereal entities. Eligor was an entity of fire herself, as was Carmen, but Ren could feel the heat soak in. Melting armor, burning hair, purging defense. It was unbearable, for a moment.
Mona's cry: "Persona!" And a mighty gale, or at least an attempt at one. Momentarily overpowering the oncoming blaze, just enough to disrupt it, and the heat was lifted.
Eligor faded, and Ren gasped for air, shuddering. He felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. And pain erupted from his lips as raw, unmitigated fury. He didn't know where it came from. He didn't much care to find out. "Arsene Dusk."
Each swing was clean, precise. Arsene's blade cut through, and Ren felt it cleave through the manifest dark. Once, twice, thrice, and again to seal the deal. His mask reformed, and the Shadows could do nothing more than burst into dust, too caught-off guard to react. Four down, and one remained. Ren's eyes locked on the secretary, he opened his mouth to command once again–
"Ren," came the whisper. That gloved hand tightened on his shoulder. "Easy man, it's okay. Just breathe."
Ren's vision cleared. That pain, that anger, that fury emptied out, as if Skull had pulled the plug and drained the entire cesspool with his words alone. "Okay," he said. "Okay. I'm okay."
One last pat, and the hand left him.
"So," Ren said, raising his voice once more, "how accommodating do you feel now, Miss?"
"Not one little bit," she replied cheerily. Hand still aloft, she snapped.
Those slats were still open, Ren noticed. And there were more than the four guard dogs, now slipping out, twelve mouths gnashing teeth.
"Oh. Rats," Fox said from somewhere behind him.
"I think they're cats, actually," Mona added.
"It doesn't matter what they are," Ren snapped, and turned on his heel. "There's more of them, and we're retreating. Now." And he ran.
█████
Evening
Shibuya, Protein Lovers Gym
"It's emptier here than I thought," the Trickster said. Which was a polite way of saying the entire gym was abandoned. Not even an employee remained, though the owner had politely decided to leave the establishment unlocked. Probably hoping that it might be used in exactly the way it was now.
"Or course it is," the young woman quipped back. "There's an evacuation order. Everyone's trying to catch one of the ferries out of Japan."
Ah. Yes. He hadn't forgotten that, not really, but it still hurt to be reminded. It wouldn't change the outcome, the Fall wasn't limited to Japan, but people had to hold onto some sort of hope. The Trickster adjusted his red gloves – padded, but lighter and fingerless, more articulation than a boxing glove would normally allow. Perfect for their kind of sparring. "I'm ready."
She rolled her eyes, settling into a loose but grounded stance. "Of course you are," the young woman replied. "Go ahead then."
"And here I thought you'd be the one on the offensive," the Trickster said. Light on his feet, he bounced up and down a few times and then lowered his center of mass, rushing towards the young woman. A quick hook-jab, just to test the waters.
She stepped forward, pivoting around the Trickster. No retaliation. No strike at all. Just watching, hands up, quicker than him by a mile. "Why's that?"
"I was sort of under the impression that you were pissed at me." The Trickster adjusted, mimicking her grounded footwork. One foot over the other, advancing without breaking his guard. When he reached her, he struck, a flurry of jabs with no follow through, poking at her guard.
"You've been ghosting me," she replied, calmly deflecting each jab, careful and clean defense. "I can't imagine where you might have gotten the impression."
The Trickster hopped back, then spun forward on his front foot, swinging all his weight behind a single strike. She threw up her hands, letting the blow collide with her arms, wincing as it sent her stumbling. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've been scared to reach out, scared that it might hurt more if I do. That it might be easier for you, if you had the chance to forget about me. To hate me in my absence. But that's wrong, and I'm sorry. I'm going to do better."
"You don't have a whole lot of time to adjust course," she shot back. Finally, she struck, hop-stepping and then aiming a kick towards his head.
He ducked, trying to retaliate with a blow to her leg, but he wasn't quick enough. "I realize that. But I'm going to make the best of this time. If we're going to die, at least we'll–"
"Here's the thing," she said, her voice cold and her eyes furious. Another kick, with the other leg, this one towards his chest. He hopped back, stumbling, off balance and she rushed him just as he'd rushed her. "If we lose," she socked him in the shoulder, "then we're all dead," her fist collided with his chest, "and if we win," she hooked her leg behind his and swept him, "then you're still. fucking. dead." The Trickster's vision blurred, and he felt the impact with the mat, and he was staring up at her now. "No matter what happens, my best friend is going to die. No matter what, you're choosing to die." She was quiet for a moment, and the Trickster watched all of that anger just drain away into sorrow. "I don't want you to die. If I could, I'd probably just find some way to force you to stay safe; make you break your promise to her"
"What's stopping you?" the Trickster asked. There was simply too much to feel, too much to respond to, all of it swirling around his head and burying itself deep in his chest.
The young woman crouched down, then crossed her legs and plopped down on the mat. "Because I love you. You're my best friend, you're the reason I got to where I am now. I think you're amazing. And I can't take away your choice. I hate the fate you've given yourself, I hate what you've decided, but I just...can't force you to change that." She was silent for a moment. And then, she simply leaned back and let gravity take her the last couple feet down to the mat. Thump. Her outstretched legs landing atop his. Parallel, and intersecting. "You decided to leave. You're leaving your boyfriend, you're leaving your girlfriend, you're leaving our friends, and you're leaving me."
"I want to stay," he said, quiet. More of a breath than a word, a wish, and it was gone. "I'm scared, and I'm lost, and I don't know what else to do. Someone has to take this burden. It's me, here and now, or it's another me sometime down the line. And I think that me would probably have a you, and a █████, and a █████, who wouldn't want to let him go." He closed his eyes, just letting the silence wash over him, the sound of two hearts breathing. "Something has to give. And I don't want anyone to feel like this ever again. I want us, some version of us, to live. I would give almost anything for that."
Neither of them said anything, for a long while.
The Trickster sat up, hands on the mat, holding himself up. "Apparently, the next me should remember the now-me, at least a bit. █████ said strong associations will linger. So," he smiled, dry and mournful, "if you wanted to give me something to remember you by, I'd probably hold onto that."
"I'm not following," she said, calm but empty.
He tapped the side of his nose with one finger. "You could break something. I dunno, it's kinda dumb, but that should be sharp enough to remember."
She was silent for another few seconds. Then, she sat up. Slowly pulled the glove off her right hand, just staring at the Trickster. He kept his breathing steady, trying to relax. Remember this. He needed to remember this.
In one smooth motion, the young woman leaned over, reached out her hand, and gently rapped her knuckles against his skull. He blinked. It didn't hurt, not really. Kind of startling, but not painful. And then she grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a tight hug. "Remember this, dumbass," she muttered. "Remember that I actually give a shit about you. Remember we're friends. Remember...just, remember me. Don't you dare fucking forget."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he mumbled back. And he wrapped his arms around her. "I could never forget you. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't." He couldn't help but smile, even as he cried. "Your majesty."
She chuckled back. "Atta boy, jester."
6/20 – Monday
Noon
Shujin Academy, Council Room
Makoto's arms were crossed, her brow was furrowed, and she was currently staring at Ren with an intensity that might melt steel. "Please explain to me again," she said, her voice cracking, "why you can't change Kaneshiro's heart."
"It's not that we can't change it at all," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. It was hard not to simply cave into nervous escape, to tell her to fuck off, that they'd handle it. But she deserved to know. She deserved as much control over the situation as an outsider could be provided. "Our powers work based on something called cognition. The way Kaneshiro sees the world influences our ability to form an infiltration route. And we've hit a major roadblock." He twisted a lock of hair between two fingers. "Kaneshiro's probably paranoid, or careful, about who the gang targets. Who gets treated as a crony. I don't know why, but he won't accept random people trying to induct themselves. That pyramid scheme thing, that's how his brain works too. Until he sees one of us as a mark, then we can't get close enough to infiltrate."
A silence as Makoto probably just tried to process through all of that. "And your plan is, what exactly?"
"We're working on that," Ren admitted. "The most straightforward option would be to go through that pyramid in real life. Get someone who's in debt to Kaneshiro to induct us into the gang." He bit his lip. "That's not exactly ideal though. We're currently seeing if we can find some option to do that safely, or find some other sort of access." He paused, then added "we're not giving up. All I'm asking is for you to wait a little longer, please."
She was silent, her expression blank. Scared, maybe. Angry. Bitter. Confused. Any combination of those. "Can't I do anything?" she asked. "Is there any way I can...I don't know. I don't know." She took a deep breath. "Is there anything I can do? I can't accept just sitting back and waiting while you all put your lives on the line."
He would have liked to say yes. Ren would have welcomed her help, Makoto's offer of assistance meant a lot to him for reasons he couldn't articulate. But the thought of her risking herself? His chest tightened. She wasn't a Phantom Thief. He didn't hold that against her, but he would rather she stay safe and uninvolved, if she could. "I'm sorry," he said. "Please, be patient."
She winced. Maybe it was his words, or his tone, or the situation itself, but a shudder washed its way over her. And she was quiet. Hands in her lap, staring at the table. "May I at least help you all plan?" she asked, half a mumble. "I'd rather not be useless, if I can avoid it."
Ren tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "That'd be fine, Makoto."
6/20 – Friday
After School
Shibuya, Teikyu Accessway
"Miss Student President is late again," Ryuji grumbled.
"Wonder what it is this time?" Ann mused, dryly. "Late trains, or some council work?"
Ryuji just shrugged.
Ren's phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked it. "Oh," he said. "That's her." And he answered, raising the phone to his ears. "Hey Makoto."
There wasn't an answer. A muffled sound, something brushing against the receiver. Had she pocket-dialed him or–
"You know," an unfamiliar, slimy voice on the other end, somewhat distant – Ren had to strain to hear it, "I'm a reasonable man. So I'll overlook that...what did my men call it again? Flagrant disrespect? Invoking my name in broad daylight, that's a big no-no."
"I apologize," Makoto's voice now, also somewhat muffled, "I felt desperate, and acted rashly." She sounded artificially calm, putting on an act.
"Miss Niijima, consider it forgotten," the unfamiliar voice said. "For a woman with your status, I do believe we can make more than a few accommodations to ensure that your willing participation is as comfortable as possible." Ren could hear the smirk, that egotistical droning behind each word.
"Mister Zebul," Makoto said, and Ren's entire body stiffened, "I have an offer for you."
"Ren?" Morgana asked. "Everything alright?"
Wordlessly, Ren lowered his phone, pressed the speaker button, and turned the volume all the way up. Ryuji, Ann and Yusuke were staring at him with clueless expressions, but he didn't dare say a single word. Every ounce of his attention was towards his phone.
"Please, Miss Niijima," came that voice again, "I would say we're on good enough terms to do away with that little moniker. 'Mister Kaneshiro' is fine." And Ren watched horrid realization dawn across each of their faces. "Please, continue. I'm eager to hear your offer."
"I assume you know what sort of position I am in," she said, "as head of the student council for Shujin Academy, and as the younger sister to a prosecutor." That final fact was definitely news to Ren, but he didn't have a single neuron left to process it. "I feel like my assistance is probably very valuable to you."
"Indeed it is," Kaneshiro practically purred. "Are you attempting to negotiate, Miss Niijima? Aren't you the little businesswoman; a lady after my own heart. I think we'll get along just fantastically."
"I would like to ask," Makoto continued, her voice wavering, "for you to lift the debt from a few particular students. Saeki Nishimaya, Miyake Iida, and Eiko Takao. They're suffering from overwork, and they aren't much use to you. I'd be willing to cooperate completely with your demands if they would be released from their contracts."
A tense silence. "Miss Niijima," Kaneshiro replied, a clearly forced sympathetic tone, "please try to understand. I'm a business owner. I can't operate at a deficit. I agree, you're worth more than any of those individuals, but I'm not sure why I should agree to undermine my own network for just a single person. Absolving debt is just bad business sense."
"I'll accept their debt," Makoto replied, a firm but unsteady voice. "I'll pay it all back myself."
Kaneshiro chuckled. "No, no. I won't risk you defaulting, that doesn't do me any good." A little hum. "How about this. A high-ranking woman like you, you must know some other people who might be able to take on that debt. I'd be more than willing to lighten the load, spread it around, make sure your friends can walk free while I still get paid. Anyone come to mind?"
A pause. "Yes," Makoto said, carefully. "I will need to convince them, but I have a few people in mind. I could bring them to you, like Eiko brought me, if you'd prefer."
"Oh, that sounds just wonderful." Kaneshiro laughed, shrill and gleeful. "Come back anytime Miss Niijima. Bring a friend, bring a dozen if you need to. And then, then we can really negotiate."
Makoto looked...not quite scared. Haunted, perhaps. Chilled. Shaken. Unsettled, yet standing in front of the Thieves.
No one said anything, for the longest time. The light bustle of the accessway couldn't fill the empty air.
"When you were talking about a student who had opened up to you," Ren said, "that one person who gave you all that information. That wasn't secondhand, was it? That was you."
Makoto nodded, slowly. "He has my friend," she said, so quiet he could barely hear it, and then she cleared her throat. "Eiko Takao. We're not close, I don't know her that well. But I...I don't know. Her family isn't well off, they've got some bad debt. Kaneshiro bought that debt, bought Eiko, and Eiko was desperate enough to pawn me off to help take some pressure off of her." She smiled, and there was neither humor nor happiness in it. "It's fucked. This is just...it's all so awful. I hate it. I hate feeling so goddamn powerless."
"You could have told us," Ann said, quietly.
Makoto didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I hurt you," she replied, "I hurt you and Ryuji, and probably Ren too. I didn't act before, when I should have. Saving me isn't important. It's Eiko who needs saving, and Nishimaya, and Iida. I'm not worth–"
"Stop," Ryuji said. Angry, maybe furious. "Just. Stop. Don't try and pull that pity party bullshit on us. You need to stop hating on yourself for shit that some other motherfucker pulled. You didn't break my leg, you didn't harass Ann, you didn't abuse Mishima, and you didn't fucking assault Shiho."
Makoto winced, and Ren immediately glanced towards Ann, but her expression was steady. Nodding, ever so slightly.
"Kamoshida was a fucked-up creep and you're like seventeen," Ryuji continued. "President or no president, you don't get to act like you're an awful person cause you didn't tattle on a fucking teacher. Like, yeah, I'm hurt. Ann's hurt. It sucks that we felt alone. But, Makoto? Grow a goddamn backbone. You're not a monster, and you're not a bad person, and we're gonna fucking save you too." He paused, and glanced towards Ren, almost pleading. "We are, right?"
Ren nodded immediately. "I understand why you didn't say it at first," he said, "but that doesn't change our intention. Nor does it change our plan."
"We're going to change Kaneshiro's heart," Yusuke added, "and free any who he has victimized. That includes you, Makoto."
Eyes wide, jaw half-open; Makoto looked beyond dumbstruck. Silent, like a fish out of water, struggling to take it all in.
"I know it's a lot–" Ann began.
And Makoto burst out laughing. Long and hard, practically doubled over, shuddering and coughing between chuckles. "Fuck," she said, quietly. "This is...what the hell is wrong with you? Why would...just..." She bent her knees, crouching down, hugging her own shoulders. "I don't understand. I'm not worth this, I'm not...I'm not."
Ren wasn't sure how to respond, for a little while. "Why not?" he said, finally. "What's stopping you from being worth saving?"
"I don't know," she said. "But I'm...I'm just..." And she sighed, frustrated. "Fuck you for making this complicated. My head hurts and it's your fault." And then she laughed, just a little.
Ren smiled. "Sorry." And he bent down, extending a hand to her. "And I'm sorry for earlier today. When I said we didn't need your help, that wasn't really the case. I was worried about you getting hurt, and I treated you badly because of it. I'm sorry. But, if I might make it up to you; would you help us, now?"
She looked at him, her brown eyes deep with both sorrow and what might have been hope. "Wouldn't you rather get help from someone else?" Not bitter, just...worried.
"Prolly not," Ryuji said, with a dramatic sigh. "I mean, maybe we would, but Kaneshiro just rolled out the red carpet for you."
"Face it Makoto," Ann added, "you're a VIP. And we were just looking for someone like that."
Yusuke chuckled. "Sorry to say, but it seems you're stuck with us, for the time being."
"We'll do our best to fill you in on the way," Ren said. "But, I think you're pretty much irreplaceable at the moment."
Makoto stared at the floor for a few seconds, maybe just thinking. Then, she smiled. "You all sure know how to make someone feel wanted," she said. She reached out and took Ren's hand.
16/20 – Monday
After School
Kaneshiro's Palace
Makoto leaned her head around the corner to stare at the imposing entrance, and then turned back to Ren. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I'm not exactly a Phantom Thief, I don't have much experience with..." She gestured to her entire surroundings.
"You'll be fine," Ren assured. "We'll be right here behind you the whole time."
"Kaneshiro thinks you're a valuable asset," Mona said, one paw on his chin, "so he shouldn't do anything to hurt you. That doesn't mean he'll just let us infiltrate his Palace. He'll almost definitely still throw up resistance, but opening up the front door for us is better than nothing."
Makoto stared down at the feline, then opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. "Morgana, right?"
"Mona right now," Mona corrected, "but yes." He stared back, eyes a little narrow, as if he was daring her to call him a cat.
"Some needed adjustment is to be expected," Fox added, sympathetically. "I'm still not quite used to the Metaverse, in all its complexities."
"Right," Makoto said, slowly. "Metaverse. And this is a...Palace?"
"Yep," Skull replied. "Kaneshiro's Palace. Kamoshida and Madarame's looked, like, totally different. So we've gotta figure out what makes this one tick."
"And you're sure that–" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the entrance. "–is going to just open the door for me?"
Ren shrugged. "Worth a try."
"Right," she grumbled, adjusting her headband. "Can't say you fill me with a whole lot of confidence."
"We pretty much improv'd our way through the last two Palaces too," Panther noted, "but those turned out fine." She flashed a winning smile. "So, we've got this. Leave it to us."
Maybe Ren was mistaken, but it seemed like Makoto's resistance melted somewhat. "Alright," she mumbled. Deep breath, in and out, steeling herself. "Okay. Let's do this." And with that, she turned the corner, the Thieves following close behind her.
"Hello there, honored guests," the Shadow at the door said.
Makoto almost flinched away completely. "Was she expecting us?" she whispered over her shoulder.
"She says that to everyone," Ren replied.
"Ah." And Makoto turned back around, clearing her throat. "I'm Makoto Niijima. Kaneshiro extended an invitation to meet with him; and I've brought five prospectives."
"I see," the woman said, consulting her clipboard list. "Ah, Miss Niijima, yes. I will open up the path towards salvation for you all." And she paused, glancing up at Ren. "I see you've found yourself a proper ticket in, former meat," she said, a little wryly. "Good for you." Slipping the list back away into nothing, she clapped once. The doors, those massive slabs of iron, began to peel open.
From behind him, the sound of tiny feet. Ren jumped out of his skin as a small Shadow peeled away from one of the nearby buildings and shot towards the door at blinding speed. It had almost made it inside when a white blur slammed into it from the side. One of those three-headed lion beasts, now tearing apart the small monster.
"Authorized entrance only," the Shadow said, with no less a chipper tone as always. "Now, lost souls, please allow me to offer you a path towards Salvation." And she stepped to the side, bowing and motioning towards the open door.
Ren glanced towards Makoto, whose hands were clenched in tight fists. Eyes forward, towards that entrance. "Just give me the word," she said, "Ren. Uh, I mean Joker."
Ren smiled. "On it." He turned to his allies, who all looked as ready as he felt. "Who's up for bodyguard duty?"
Panther's hand shot up instantly. "I am!" she chirped.
"You've got the job," he said with a chuckle. "Skull, let's take the front. Mona and Fox, you'll guard our rear and flanks." He hesitated. "If anything goes pear-shaped, protect Makoto. If we get separated, retreat back to a safe location. Leave the Palace entirely, if you need to." And at the chorus of sour grimaces from his allies, he added "I'm not asking you to leave anyone behind, but this world might be even more untrustworthy than we're used to, and we're going to keep our friend safe."
Makoto, nearby, jolted with surprise. She glanced towards him, eyes wide, and then set her expression. "I'll carry my own," she said, her voice firm. "No matter what, I won't weigh you down." She turned towards the door again. "I promise that."
The interior of Kaneshiro's Palace proper was dim, and grey, and damp, and sickening. It smelled foul, halfway to a garbage dump, and it was even colder than the exterior. Ren almost immediately wanted to turn heel and walk back out the way he came. The current room was sizable, a number of frail cognitions all seated on uncomfortable-looking benches, as a digital ticker overhead slowly clicked through number after number.
"Why would any of the Shadows outside want to get in here so desperately?" Fox pondered, pinching his nose shut the entire time. "Outside may not have been very pleasant, but it was better than this, certainly."
"Maybe it's to do with that?" Makoto said, pointing to the far wall, behind one of the wooden and glass counters that were filled with more secretary Shadows. Another large double-door, this one an ornate white and gold, as stark a contrast as could be possible. "They might all be waiting their turn to be welcomed inside. Assuming this world operates on any logic at all."
"So far as we've seen," Ren replied, "it should. That's the most logical course of action; good eye Makoto."
"Then this place might be some sort of debt processing area?" Mona motioned to one of the cognitions, who was being led through a wooden side door into what Ren glimpsed only momentarily as a long hallway before that door closed. "They could be negotiating payment, and sorting everyone into roles."
"Shit," Skull grumbled. "Do we have to just sit in this place and wait like everyone else?"
"I hope not," Panther said. "With all Makoto went through to get us in here, that doesn't seem–"
"Ah, honored guests." One of the secretary Shadows approached the Thieves and Makoto, bowing slightly as she did so. "Please, this way. You are too valuable to stay here with the rest of these forlorn lost souls."
Ren could feel Makoto's hesitation behind him, and he stepped forward. "Lead the way," he said. And as soon as the Shadow turned, he flashed a smile and a thumbs-up over his shoulder.
Makoto didn't look exactly relieved, but after a glance towards Panther, she nodded her silent permission to continue.
Sure enough, the Shadow escorted the six of them to that white and golden door, then clapped once. She stepped aside, and that door also began to open. Ren half-expected one of the cognitions to charge inside, but a quick glance confirmed they were all smart enough to avoid trying. Turning back to the door, he squinted, trying to peer inside, but he couldn't quite make it out. So, taking a deep breath, he stepped through.
It was bright. So blindly radiant he might have assumed he'd stepped onto the surface of the sun. But the clack of his shoes on the polished floor told him, the faint sound of harp music, and the smell of lavender told him otherwise.
"Oh," Fox said behind him. "I see." And as Ren's vision cleared, he realized what that sour tone in Fox's voice meant. And he felt his own gut sour as well.
This was Kaneshiro's view of 'salvation.' As decadent here as the waiting room, and the ash-enveloped Shibuyua, had been destitute. The hall echoed with the faint sound of laughter, half-dressed men and woman lounging on red velvet couches, feeding each other grapes and chortling at nothing whatsoever. A woman wrapped in ornate golden fabric, plucking the strings of an enormous gaudy harp. And the centerpiece to the room, sitting on a couch in the center of the room in front of a marble fountain, wearing a white suit and golden tie, was a man who Ren immediately identified as Kaneshiro. Who else could it be? Who else could wear that awful, slimy grin, who else but the man with the combed-back black hair and gleaming yellow eyes could be the Palace's ruler?
"Hello there, Miss Niijima," And his voice, even distorted by this world, was no less disgusting than Ren had heard over the phone.
Makoto was silent for a moment. Before Ren could react, she shouldered past both him and Skull, standing between the Thieves and Kaneshiro's Shadow. "I've heard you were expecting me," she said, her voice low, and furious. "And apparently, you're not the real Kaneshiro. Just some scumbag who lives in his heart."
"Au contraire," the Shadow chuckled, "you saucy girl. I'm as real as it gets." He stood up, hands behind his back, smirking at the five Thieves and one Student Council President in front of him. "Welcome, Miss Niijima, to Salvation. You've still got a little ways left to go before you deserve a home here, unfortunately, but a smart young woman like you deserves a little peek at what your future holds."
"If this is what my future has in store," she shot back, "then I'd rather die."
Shadow Kaneshiro frowned, just a little. "That can be arranged," he said, almost an offer.
The clomp of boots from both sides, and Ren glanced right to see a practical platoon of masked Shadows in suits and ties begin to march into the room, spreading out, advancing. Judging from Skull's surprised cry behind him, they were probably moving to flank the Thieves. "Group up," Ren shouted, drawing his blade and stepping backward, keeping Skull and Fox on the edges of each periphery. "Makoto," he whispered, but she either didn't hear him or didn't answer.
"But I think," Kaneshiro continued, "that in time, after a few months working in my Inferno, I think you'll come to think of Salvation as a place worth dreaming of. And for a woman like you, it's almost within reach." His expression was as soft as it could reasonably be, without losing any amount of condescension. "Even for someone with as hefty a debt as you've taken on, you're just the sort of lady who could reach here in record time if you put your mind to it."
"Makoto," Ren said, more insistently. "We're outnumbered, we need to regroup. Come on!"
"Go," she said, and he could hear some uninterpretable emotion in her voice, perhaps fear or sorrow or fury, or all of it together. "I'll be fine. So go, save–"
"We're not leaving without you!" Panther shouted. And Ren heard a sound like glass shattering three times over. On his left, a wall of flame shot across the floor, rising with a sudden gust with such an intensity that all nearby Shadows and cognitions alike recoiled. On his right, a bulwark of icicles rose from the floor, spikes pointed outwards, a sharp deterrent for that group of foes.
"We're not going to abandon our friend," Fox added. "We're not those kind of Thieves!"
Makoto's shoulders shook, hands balled into furious fists. Was she crying?
"You've no shortage of assets," Shadow Kaneshiro continued, his tone gleeful, as if he didn't care one bit for the ruckus going on around him, totally unfazed by the potential danger. "And I don't know which I'm more excited for you to use first! Are you going to ferry students in here to cover your own debt? Or sell out your sister; you know she'll fetch a handsome price. Or maybe you'll take the martyr route and just sell your own–"
"You just keep on talking, don't you?" Makoto said. Her voice was even, and steady, and indescribably furious. "How about you shut your mouth and listen, for once?"
Kaneshiro's Shadow stopped. His grin faded. "What was that?" he said, deadpan, bitter. "Care to repeat that little statement?"
"Sure." Makoto took a step towards him, cracking her knuckles. "Close your mouth right now, you disgusting piece of shit, or I'll break your jaw and close it for you."
The Shadow recoiled, scrambling backwards, hands up. "Hold on, hold on–" he said.
"I've had enough of feeling helpless," Makoto continued. And something fractured. At first Ren didn't know what, but then she took another step. The polished floor under her foot splintered, crumpling into a spider-web crack. "I've had enough of men looking down on me." Another step, and the Shadow Kaneshiro fell back onto the couch now, still stumbling over himself.
Something, far off, hummed. Not exactly a hum, no, more like a roar. A distant sound, coming closer, echoing across this facsimile of paradise.
"My 'assets' aren't for men like you," Makoto said. "I didn't get to where I was by sucking up, I burned my own heart out just to be good enough, and I'm sick and fucking tired of being treated like a fucking puppet!" She pulled back one fist, and swung. Shadow Kaneshiro ducked, scrambling off the couch and out of the way, and Makoto's fist collided with the couch, and went through the couch, and impacted the fountain with thunderous force. Water exploded in every direction, spreading across the cracked floor from the now decimated fountain.
"What the hell?!" Skull's voice, faintly from beside him. "What kind of workouts has she been doing?"
Ren felt himself speak, even as his empty mind could do nothing more than watch as Makoto rose again, blood dripping from her fist. "It's not just strength. She's finally waking up."
And as if on cue, a voice echoing in the hollow hall.
So, you've decided to tread the path of strife.
"Yes," Makoto said. She turned back around, glaring at the cowering Kaneshiro. "I'm done waiting. Now, come to me!"
Very well. Let us proceed with our contract at once.
Makoto's eyes widened. Ren knew that pain, that awful furious sound now echoing through her head. He knew what it felt like for one's heart to wrench itself out of them by force. But Makoto did not cry out. She didn't say a single word. Teeth grit, eyes locked on Kaneshiro, nails digging into her palms.
I am thou, thou art I. You have fought so long and so hard to reach this pinnacle, but yet you have surrendered your life without so much as a struggle.
That roar was no longer distant. It was present, and deafening, and it shook the very air around them. Ren clapped his hands over his ears, wincing as his very teeth shuddered in his skull, but he wouldn't dare look away.
Why rely on the roads blazed by others, now? Why, when you have dreamed to forge your own path all your life? You cannot bow your head to them now, not when there is still strength left in you. If they wish to take this freedom from you–
"They'll have to tear it from my chest!" Makoto finished. "I'm done...playing nice!" Had that mask always been there? It fit her features so well, those red-glass visors over her eyes, set in a simply steel mask. Makoto reached up, and grabbed hold of it. And she tore it from her face with a triumphant scream.
That roar blurred reality with oblivion, nearly knocking Ren off his feet. There was no sight, nor sound, nothing beyond that deafening roar that threatened to destabilize the very core of his being. And in an instant, it was gone, nothing more than an echo in his ears...
No, not gone. Manifest. A roaring engine of a motorcycle, blue steel and azure flame. And its rider, a young woman, clad in black and blue, her shoulders adorned with spikes, and a red tattered cloak around her neck. And Ren recognized her twice over; Makoto, of course, but beyond that–
"It's her!" Mona gasped. "Just like in the picture!"
Thankfully, none of the other Thieves were in the right place to question that statement. A simple glance at three sets of slack jaws were enough to prove that.
"I think it's long time I take you for a bit of a test drive, huh?" Makoto said, smiling softly, reaching down to pat the motorcycle's side. "Wouldn't you agree, Johanna?" And then she glanced up towards Ren, her expression hardening again. "Hey Joker! Move." She pivoted the bike around, and Ren didn't need to be told twice.
"Everyone out of the way!" he yelled, scrambling right.
And Makoto gunned it. Across the polished floor, directly through the now fading wall of flame. Rubber screeching as she pulled a quick turn, that fire wrapping around her, changing from orange to blue, wrapped in azure and barreling through the Shadows who could not get out of the way fast enough. Then, with another roar from her motorbike – her Persona – Makoto shot out of the flame back towards the Thieves. Her brakes screeched, and she slid a little, before coming to a stop, still letting off smoke but no longer fire. "Hey," she said, grinning a little.
"Hey," Panther's voice from nearby, absolutely awestruck. "Hi. Holy shit. That was so cool."
"Dude," Skull's tone echoed a similar awe, "sick."
"I also think it was very impressive," Fox added, a little strained. "But we should probably still retreat, considering that we're exceptionally outnumbered and also I can't hold them very much longer."
Ren's brain started again. "Back the way we came!" he commanded, turning towards the door to the waiting room and then immediately halting at the sight of another group of guards piling through the door. He opened his mouth to call for another route, but, then again... "Makoto. Mind clearing a path for us?"
"It would be my genuine pleasure," she said, grinning. She pointed the front of her bike towards the door, and revved the engine in place. "Mafrei!" A little blue sphere, sparking into existence in front of Johanna. Glowing, pulsating, and then it fired. Little explosions of energy like buckshot, colliding with the incoming guards and sending them scattering. And to finish the job, Makoto simply released her brakes, and drove right on through.
"Come on!" Ren sprinted after her, nose filled with the overpowering scent of burnt rubber. It smelled, at that moment, absolutely triumphant.
6/21 – Tuesday
After School
Cafe Leblanc
The bell above Leblanc's door chimed, followed immediately by Makoto's voice. "I hope I'm not late for once," she said, a little sheepish.
"Nope," Ren replied, finishing up washing the last of the dishes and drying his hands. "Ryuji and Ann are upstairs already, but we're still waiting on–" And he turned around, and immediately found himself lost for words.
It wasn't quite the same Makoto who stood in front of him. She wasn't wearing her hairband anymore, but that was hardly the most drastic change; more noticeable was the fact that she'd buzzed the entire back and sides of her hair, leaving only a loose combover on top. "My sister wasn't exactly happy to find out," she said, with a little skewed smile, "but I've always wanted to cut it short like this. And, after Johanna?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, I guess I couldn't stand the idea of cutting my hair the way someone else liked. Not anymore."
Ah, right, Ren remembered now. She'd had the same short hair in the photograph too, hadn't she? "You look awesome," he said, and he couldn't help but grin. "You seem a lot more comfortable now."
"Well," she replied, beaming back, "it's been a little while, but I think I'm just happy to have friends I can be me around." And she chuckled. "You should head up first. I think you'll want to see Ann's face when she notices." She gestured to the buzzed part of her head.
"Oh," Ren burst out laughing, "I absolutely don't want to miss that."
Thanks again to natade-art on Tumblr for giving me permission to use their Makoto redesign for inspiration.
And, while I had the idea before I found their art, I'd like to shoutout soggystyrofoam (also on Tumblr) for proving that buzzcut butch Makoto was in fact A Really Good And Smart Decision.
