Fool's Gamble
Life 96
Chapter XVII: Ragnarök
Crossing The Line In The Sand
It happened far too quickly.
Masami… Tohru, had stepped out of his classroom for just a second, a sound fraying in his mind's eye as he carefully began collecting the tattered edges of his mind.
He was out of the loop, that much he knew, and sorely lacking in information.
Akechi had run off after Kurusu and gone MIA, leaving Tohru to comb through context clues in an attempt to keep going in their research. Worse off and without knowing where Akechi had gone or if he was even coming back.
Situation: Quickly escalating into a nightmare.
Such as a bloodstained teenage boy stumbling down the hallway, hair far too dark and skin far too pale. The figure of a girl stalking his footsteps, the aura of a demon coating her skin like warpaint. It was clear which of the two was the aggressor.
"Damn it, Goro…" Tohru said with a breath as he knew instantly that the boy was Kurusu, in just the sort of shape Goro had mentioned, and now being chased by the figure they had pinpointed in Patient Zero for this whole chaotic debacle, Shiho Suzui.
More concerning was that Tohru could see spectral strings, in a manner of speaking, hanging from Suzui's limbs like a puppet's strings.
He had a pretty good guess who was playing puppeteer, but that harsh aura was so dense that even a fool could read the Arcana in the air.
"Death… Lovely…" Tohru said as he stepped fully into the hall, Kurusu staggering over himself to reach him only to collapse in his tracks, a worrying scarlet spreading across his back, the girl only marching ever closer like an inhuman soldier of Hell.
And even worse, being this close, Tohru knew that this boy was the next Wild Card, that same feeling of eldritch unease pooling in his stomach just looking at the kid.
Kurusu had literally been stabbed in the back.
Judging by how his blazer had darkened, the kid probably didn't have long before he bled out on school property. Tohru was pretty sure that was a detention worthy action as well, not that any teacher would actually write up a kid for that, not that he was aware of.
What he was aware of, is that if he didn't get involved, Kurusu would die, Tohru would still have no clue where Akechi ran off to, and likely Tohru would also die to the infected psychopath with Terminator-levels of deadly determination.
The issue is that no matter what he did, Tohru wouldn't be able to stop her. Not physically, by any means, but…
"Oh look at that, I see you found your rock in a hard place, you sniveling coward…"
That same mocking tone in his ear.
The figure of the Countrymaker forming off to the side of his vision.
The form was a vague specter as he tried his hardest to ignore the taunt he had heard every single time he was ever in danger–that same temptation eating away at his bones and threatening to break loose a tide onto his very mind.
Endless desperation. A bottomless despotic hunger for blood and carnage, a cold lifeless indifference to anything remotely human or humane.
The beast he had kept locked away for so very long, that he had been saved from– but a cage was nothing more than a cage, and the key had been thrust into his hand by this horror with scarlet eyes of rage, only beat out by the hatred he felt coiled in his very soul.
"Oh, but this is different, Tohru… You care so much about these petty rules and games, but this is not just your life in the balance… This boy is the Wild Card… The Trickster… He alone knows where the Spare has gone… If he dies, not only will you soon follow, but the Spare falls to the sands as well… The game will end before it's beginning, Spare and Jester lost because of your inaction… I wonder if there's yet another Spare… Or maybe this will just be it, Humanity falls and ruin settles in, because you were too afraid to see that I AM YOU. The demon you fear is your other self, a fact you refuse to see and still now ignore like the pitiful coward you truly are, that Yamiyo knew you were, and felt was worth saving from a hell of your own creation. Now… If you wish to bring salvation to the World, like you swore an oath to achieve, then swallow your petty indignation and give me the key…"
Suzui kept coming closer, Kurusu's breath haltering and growing faint. A crimson glow fell over the world as Tohru felt an ungodly pain begin to blossom in his forehead, the words flying to his lips despite the fact that he knew what evil he was prepared to gamble with, what could happen if he failed now.
A beast of his own burden.
"Kurusu dies. You are not meant for this place, your role is done… Leave me to my business, Spare, and you will live." Suzui said in a cold, callous tone then. Blood trailed from a blade clenched tightly in her bruised fingers, a lifeless otherworldly glint in her eyes.
Tohru just began to laugh, the pain he felt within was far greater than anything this girl could ever do to him.
"This, Spare, is your final warning."
A rush of red flame began to break through his very skin, the flesh of his eyes beginning to boil as Tohru let out a broken cry.
Vision returned to his dead eye as he saw the world in complete clarity for the first time in years, a red tint falling over the world like a dropped cloth. Tohru was more blind with full sight than when he had been scarred.
"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" Tohru cried out in unrelenting rage as he held a hand tightly against his forehead. The rush of voices ran free as Izanagi's form began to grow solid and real, a tide of blood running from Tohru's mouth as his lifesblood began to tether the specter into reality. Otherworldly flesh formed as sinew grew onto a ghostly frame.
There was no going back, Tohru could not keep his promise.
He was a part of this game now, that was out of his control.
"I set you free… IZANAGI-ZETSUBŌ!"
The Fallen Forge had been reignited, it's imprisoned smith now let free on a world unsuspecting.
And should he not find restraint, the World would be bathed in it's flames… That he knew, he had been warned after all.
"Blazing Hell…"
Thrall Of Death, Warrior Of Hope
April 15th, 2016
"Careful now, you've been out a good while, don't go moving too quickly now." A soft voice said as Akira returned to consciousness, his battered body sitting at a table in one of Shujin's classrooms, that much he could tell straight away.
The other was the pain, his chest twisting like broken glass as he felt a horrible chill to his bones. A warped sense of nausea clouded his vision as he struggled to find purchase in the waking world.
"You took quite a beating. Cut your head as well. I did what I could, but you bled all over your uniform. Figured I'd loan you some of Goro's clothes, doubt he'd mind his new partner going scavenging through the stuff he's left in my class."
Akira was confused for lack of a better word, but he stared at the strange older man with a far too calm demeanor. The man's long dark locks were tucked away into a lazy knot, a dark eye watching Akira like an ancient dragon, aware of him in the way only a fellow predator would recognize, weary but wizened.
The other eye, a milky white, the iris a faint crimson, an oddly verbose sense of recognition flooding through Akira as he stared into the man's eyes, oddly enough, Loki did much the same.
"Joker, this one is like you… A bitter being of Wisdom, Desperation. He has made peace with his reality…"
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Masami Magatsu."
And for some reason, Akira shot up instantly, his eyes alight with the fire of knowledge, smoke in his throat as he choked out a croak of a response.
"No it's not..."
The man laughed, an almost feral look in his eyes as a true smile formed on his face, a hand extended as Akira felt an almost nuclear energy radiating from the man, like a live wire radiating heat and ungodly danger.
"No, it's not. Good to meet the other Player in this game, the Wild Card rather than the Spare. My name is Tohru Adachi, the Spare to the previous Wild Card. And correct me if I'm wrong, you're Akira Kurusu."
Akira blanched at that exposition dump, before straightening his face as he went to stand, never turning his attention from the man.
"I… You just dump all of that on me when I'm still seeing stars… Did Akechi mention me? Because I certainly don't know you, so it's kinda bugging me that you know me…"
"Only in passing, but I was told your name some time ago. That the next game was soon to begin, and that you would be the next Wild Card. The Trickster… To think, all of that horror led to you, it truly is a small world…"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
And just as swiftly as things came to be, Adachi turned on the spot and began marching to the front of his classroom, hand quickly moving to turn on the light by the door.
The ensuite laboratory was illuminated, revealing Shiho's form visibly bruised and bound within, a twisting mass of cables and cords connecting her to a small computer, medical instruments surrounding her like a horde of concerned onlookers.
"Ancient history can wait, Trickster. We're running out of time."
Akira's eyes widened in shock and outrage as he saw Shiho's eyes shoot open, only for the cables connected to her to suddenly spark to life a surge of electricity, her body convulsing as her heart rate began to flatline.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Akira snarled out as he turned to face Adachi, the older man only staring at Shiho with a look of cold concern, as if he regretted this turn of events, but would choose it again if given the chance.
"What I had to do. Surely you noticed yourself, but the Virus is constantly evolving, growing resistant and adapting to any threat it faces. Each time she's defeated, she becomes stronger, wakes up faster. I tried almost everything to just get her to sleep, but the Virus woke her up… I stop her heart, and the Virus starts it again… I imagine this looks horrid, but I've exhausted my options to keep us both alive."
And Akira could only grimace as the man was proven right, Shiho shooting up in an animalistic fit as her heart kicked back into motion, blood falling from her eyes like tears as she fought her restraints.
"Then we cure her. Between the virus in her veins and the sample Mako brought, we should have more than enough to make a vaccine at the least."
"Mako?" Adachi asked in confusion then as Akira realized that his favorite Niijima wasn't around at all, and judging by the lack of recognition on the man's face, the plan went far worse than he thought.
"Makoto Niijima. She agreed to help me reach the school, Goro mentioned he was working with a professor to treat the Virus, and Mako said it was probably you. We split up, I took Shiho on the train while Mako brought the sample to you on her bike."
"I wouldn't trust Ms. Niijima personally, and even more so since I have not seen her, let alone been given a sample of anything."
And it was then that Akira felt intense anger at himself, beating himself up over how stupid he had been, his mind fuming as a part of himself refused to believe it. That something must have happened to delay her, that Makoto had not betrayed him, but the facts were building in disfavor of her.
Trusting a complete stranger because he trusted a different version of her, the differences between them already apparent as well, and he still made that mistake.
Mako had betrayed him, worst case scenario, or ran into some threat that ruined her side of the plan just as he had, but Akira knew better.
She lied and made off with the sample, and left him to his fate along with every other person that was relying on them to save them.
Akira swore he heard the sound of glass breaking, a red tint flooding his vision as the world began to grow dark.
I am thou… Thou art I…
Thou hast suffered a loss most grave.
As Fate shifts further, the bond you formed no longer exists, the link between your hearts shattered beyond reconciliation.
Fate has broken the strength of your heart, and no way forward lies before you.
With the ruin of the High Priestess Arcana, you have lost a piece of yourself that you will never recover…
"How odd, I don't think I've felt that before… The breaking of a Blood Vow, I must say it's worrying." Adachi's voice spoke aloud then, the world rushing back into focus as Akira found himself growing unsteady, the older man providing a welcome hand as Akira used his presence to ground him.
And almost like a magnetic repulsion struck him, Akira felt feelings and echoes flash across his mind, the world seen through a different set of eyes.
A blur of places and faces as feelings of anxiety and nausea overwhelmed him, metal soldiers marching through a town, gunfire and flames billowing out as rays of light tore through storm clouds, shining eyes in dark faces, the coppery taste of blood and the smell of rot in the air.
"Jester…"
"That was my oath with Yami, yes. High Priestess is what you lost just now, is it not?" Adachi said with a look of sincere concern, Akira's eyes darted around as he tried to wrestle his mind back from the abyss that had poured free, the presence of a rival bond weathering the lines between Akira and his predecessor, as he tried to remember who he was, where he was.
When he was.
It was like fighting an ocean, pushing aside glimpses and flashes of a life that didn't belong to him, flashes of a Wild Card with silver hair, of… a bear?
"Kurusu, breathe. Just breathe, alright? Now, I'm sorry, but we're not done. Goro, do you know where he went?"
Color melting ice, flashing lights and sounds, hands snaking across sand, fingers digging into bone.
"Kurusu."
A crowd watching with awe, fierce and harsh debates, a duel with bare hands, waters calm and wanderings with thoughts of regrets and hatred.
A gun fired into open air.
Blood.
Death.
Justice.
"He's… in the Palace. Tae Takemi's palace. She's responsible for all of this, Goro had it right…"
"Palace?" Adachi asked with a look of skewed confusion then as Kurusu's breathing evened out, the boy pale but managing to stand as he stepped forward, his eyes locked with the scarlet orbs of Shiho.
"Her cognitive realm… In the Metaverse."
"Her Channel. I see. Carry on."
"I was confronted by Takemi's Shadow and forced out by an ultimatum. I had to leave Akechi there, but I… I used the bond I share with him to loan him one of my Persona. I planned to get back, but Shiho found me, and Takemi's Shadow has control over Life and Death inside her palace. She brings her guards back from any death, and she… she snapped her fingers and killed me… I don't remember what happened after it, but I died. Not almost, not comatose. I was dead." Akira said with cold realization.
He finally got a chance to unload the madness he had endured in a single day, weeks of boredom quickly left by the wayside as he found himself fighting a horrid virus, being infected and cured of it, and then having to find an actual cure.
"I was… infected. I almost shot Akechi. Tae gave me a gun, and ran off. I pulled the trigger… and I awoke to Mephisto."
"That explains quite a bit, actually. I checked your vitals, and found no trace of the Hate Virus, not even the sleeper cells we found in 'recovered' subjects. I don't have a wealth of knowledge on it, but I theorize that when one awakens to their Persona, it purges the body of negative ailments. The other self purges the true self, if you would."
And just like that, Akira began to put together the pieces, Adachi letting him reach the conclusion on his own as the two stared at Shiho's bloodshot eyes.
The girl was beyond reason, as she snarled like a rabid beast.
"You know what I'm going to say, Kurusu."
"The Virus came from the Metaverse, and it has to be cured by the Metaverse…"
A straining of metal, the electricity just dancing over Shiho's skin as she leaned forward, charred flesh recoiling as her restraints began to twist. The metal chains began to give as a furious and monstrous roar broke its way out of her throat.
And Adachi handed Akira back his phone, the familiar sight of the Metanav instantly popping into view as Akira felt Mors begin to settle in his mind, Loki coiling around like thorns as he felt the weight of what he had to do.
"I have to take Shiho there, and awaken her Persona…"
"Yes. And I'm sorry, but you should know that an awakening is a defensive measure. You can't fake it, you can't trick it. To awaken her Persona, you can not look at her as an innocent, as a friend to be saved. When you are there, you must, with every ounce of your focus and will, try your utmost to kill her. Her life must be threatened, truly."
With a breath, a prayer left unsaid and far too many regrets left floating, Akira nodded dumbly as he tried to keep himself from arguing when he had no other options left.
"The app, that's how you access the Shadow Realm, right? I'm afraid we don't have much time left, and while a part of me wishes I could help you, I've already done too much… More than I was allowed to."
Just as Goro had done for him, Akira now faced the jaws of Death to save another soul, burning red eyes that should have been brown, an old friend left in the dark.
A sense of bitter resentment that Akira had never left behind, a time when he blamed Shiho for Ann's death, for the state he had found Ann in so long ago.
And now, he was the only one that could pull her back from the edge, save her from her own darkness.
With a final glance at Adachi, and a hesitant hand placed on Shiho's struggling shoulder, Akira opened the Metanav and resolved himself to this course of action.
It was time.
"Laboratory Of Tae Takemi."
"Beginning Navigation."
Veiled Intentions
"Consul, reporting in."
"I'm listening, your report?"
"We were correct, CC.021. The composition is exact."
"Then all that remains is to cut the connection inside her Delusion."
"I suggest Herald infiltrate to cut the connection, but be aware: We have interference."
"How so?"
"Takemi has ensnared Goro Akechi with her plot, and he and a transfer student have become involved in the Outbreak, and have somehow managed to infiltrate the Delusion."
"Do they pose a threat?"
"My observations point to no, but we must remain vigilant."
"Then do so. I shall dispatch Herald to resolve the situation, return to your post."
"As you command, Warden..."
It was hard to breathe, Akira found, the world fading into view as he now stood in an elaborate laboratory, vials of light and violent sights surrounding him as a gloom of rot sunk in.
Granted, observation of any kind was difficult when Akira found that Shiho's bindings had not traveled with them into the Palace. Now the maddened girl was trying her damndest to choke the life out of his body, her nails biting into flesh as she trapped his neck into an embrace of bloodshed and crazed eyes.
However, at least within the Metaverse, Akira could even the playing field with little difficulty, his mask roaring into being as a wave of flame shot forward from his body, a solar flare blazing forward as Shiho's dark form was twisted to the floor in vision of charred flesh and hoarse screams.
And yet, Akira would not be so lucky. While he slowly felt Mephisto's strength return to him across the weakening bond to Goro, Shiho stood through the agony plaguing her, glowing eyes snarling at him through a prison of flame.
In a moment, the flames were brought low as a rush of frost birthed into motion, a crown of shadow falling over Shiho's cruel gaze, a great rod of ice grasped in hand as Akira felt a chill rend his flesh down to the bone.
"It is not a girl we face…" Mors was quick to add as a field of thorns rose up to divide the two of them, a moment's reprieve to think as Akira began to long for the burning might of Mephisto's hellfire. Mors' dark energies and rotten vines paled in comparison as Akira watched the frozen form of Shiho walk through a rapidly wilting forest of darkness, a spear in hand ready to gut him with little hesitation.
With a heavy heart and stilted breath, Akira called forward his axe, the blade still as sharp as ever as he brought it down in front of him. A shockwave from the impact sent ripples through the fresh-laid frost.
And yet, Akira knew that it was a battle ahead.
No words would end this, and he could not reach her, couldn't save her from the hell Takemi had inflicted.
Not like this.
But he could wake her up, the hard way…
The words sprang from his lips as Mors fell over him like a cloak, a bitter snarl tearing at his lips as he dove forward on the assault.
"Dark Verdict!" Akira cried out as hel brought the edge of Fleur Du Mal down on Shiho's left arm, her skin cracking like ice as that damn spear came jutting forward, time seeming to slow as Akira felt it glide just past his ribs, a chill following in its wake as life kicked back into motion.
Just an animalistic growl in response, frost flying forward from her fingertips as Shiho forced him backwards, Akira's best attempts to shield himself falling dull as he felt a distant lull come over him, the numbness of oncoming frostbite not far from seen.
And yet it only brought out a side of him that hadn't seen the light in far too long, the warrior, the paladin, the trickster that lurked under his skin for any chance at blood or glory.
"Wicked Curse!" An element Akira was very familiar with, a flash of dark energies flying forward in a swarm of brimstone as Mors appeared in a quick glimpse, its skeletal fingers drawing out some occult iconography as a heinous glare gleamed from its hollow eye sockets.
And yet the curse fell short, its effects seemingly useless as Shiho kept charging forward without end, a sleepless soldier controlled in mind and body.
A flash of scarlet, the spear's tip digging deep into his shoulder as Akira barely avoided the clear intent for his heart, a dense cold setting in as Akira saw his breath mist before him.
And the flat of his axe came swinging forward, crashing straight into Shido's face as hs sent the girl flying backwards with a loud clang, Akira giving out a cry as the spear ripped clean out and left him reeling backwards, blood pouring intensely from the wound as he watched it begin to freeze solid.
He could only stare forward as Shiho regained her footing, the girl leaning on the spear of frost for support as she staggered forward, a horrid grin splitting her face as he could see the blood trailing down from her horribly broken nose.
And marvel as the swarm of shadowy wisps that trailed around Shiho's head began to condense and take form, a dark helmet obscuring her face from view, two beastly horns standing at attention as she began to charge like a bull.
And Akira knew he wouldn't last much of a chance against her, not after the trials he had been forced into, wounded and less than himself, battered and tormented.
That gleam in her eyes, the ice spreading across his entire arm now, leaving him wielding his axe in the wrong hand and reliant on the small spark of power he had left in his bones.
Mors at an end, Loki a wellspring of power he dared not draw from, unwelcome specters in his mask that refused to answer the call of a man that no longer held claim to their loyalty, and Mephisto so far and yet so near, out of touch and out of mind.
He realized it was a mask that she wore now, that barbarian's facade that fit the bloodied beast Takemi had dressed her as, the fate he seemed unable to save her from.
And yet again, Shiho was failed by one who could make a difference, and lost to a tortured path that he could only watch and struggle not to follow.
He didn't blame her, Shiho, the real Shiho and not this pale reflection that Takemi had stolen from Shiho's mind and soul.
Hell, she probably didn't even know his name, not really, if she had been a thrall for so long.
And yet, he felt at peace with this, oddly.
At least within Takemi's palace, Shiho wouldn't hurt anyone else again, even if he could not save her.
He-
As he scrambled backwards in some vain attempt to make peace with a god that wasn't listening as she brought her spear to bear once more, a pitiful repeat that would put him down like another one of Takemi's guinea pigs.
And yet, Akira could only watch as shock actually flooded Shiho's eyes, a deafening gunshot ringing out as the helmet was flung from her head, a burst of blood pouring out from her eyes as an unholy scream tore from her throat, the shadows beginning to vanish as the crimson in her eyes bled away to an otherworldly gold.
Falling backwards from a sudden onslaught of frost all around them, a new ice age unleashed as the spear took form and substance, becoming a grand glaive of war, Shiho's tattered and bloody school uniform twisting into something akin to a Viking's garb.
A spectral form of a woman burst to life behind her, long golden hair offset by large mechanical arms and menacing eyes staring at anything and everything as if it were a threat to be vanquished.
And beyond all of it, to Akira's relief and growing horror, stood Goro Akechi.
His metaversal garb coated in blood and grime, a mad gleam in his eyes tied to a confused grimace, a pistol pointed right at them with its barrel still wafting smoke as the force of the gunshot finally settled.
And a hellish look began to grow on his pale face, a smile that was sharper than any blade and was not meant to be there.
Not this time, not again, not him…
Shaking palms holding a gun with the ease of a professional, eyes narrowed in confusion paired with a sadist's grin.
A sharp tone, almost jovial but tinged with a fury that few ever saw, and fewer ever had directed at them.
But one that Akira firmly remembered.
"Honey… I'm home!"
It was Goro Akechi.
Wearing a Black Mask…