Cw for suicide, implied abuse, and major character death.
It was one week after the suicide of his Senpai, Tachibana Takumi, that Yusuke first stumbled into the Metaverse.
In hindsight, there were a lot of things wrong with the way the man he'd once thought of as a father raised him. Long nights spent shivering in the cold because Sensei was still waiting to get paid for his latest exhibition, meals skipped because Sensei couldn't afford to feed someone who wasn't providing him work, and therefore his other students had to take priority.
To Yusuke though, that had been normal. It was all he ever knew, after all.
Madarame's reaction to Tachibana's death was not.
A look of grief had flashed across his face, and sitting down, the elderly man shook his head and lamented. If only Tachibana had told him how he was feeling - Madarame would have taken him straight to the doctor.
Yusuke remained silent, brows furrowed. He wasn't a rebellious child – he tried his best to please Sensei, because Sensei had sacrificed so, so much for him – but even his fourteen-year-old mind could instantly pick up something wrong with that statement. Tachibana's grief had been obvious. It had leaked into every cavity of his art, once-picturesque watercolour landscapes replaced with increasingly darker abstract works, brush laden with thick oil paint that was never quite heavy enough to portray the weight of the despair that was crushing him. Tachibana had been a ghost well before his soul left this mortal coil, and while Yusuke had been saddened by his passing, he had not been surprised.
Despite his lingering art block, Madarame's eye had never diminished. He must have known about the rot in Tachibana's soul, so why pretend the contrary?
The thought lingered with him for days, until a brand-new phone combined with some truly unfortunate musing out loud dragged Yusuke straight into his Sensei's Palace. The museum was gilded with gold, an ostentatious display whose over-the-top gaudiness and grandeur only accentuated the foul deceit it was trying to hide. Heart racing, panicked breaths escaped the teenager's mouth as he stumbled through the hall of paintings, each portrait so deeply familiar and yet so utterly soulless. The guards that chased after him were not of mortal ken, but dark shadows plucked from the ether and warped into a twisted form of functionality.
They were a lot less warped than the monster that resembled Madarame was, however.
"Tachibana." Yusuke croaked, eyes wide and desperate as the guards held him down.
"Yes, a tragedy that." The shogun frowned, gold eyes glittering even more than his awfully tacky clothing. "I do so hate it when someone steals my artwork."
"… Pardon?" If Yusuke's voice sounded shrill, it was not because of fear.
Madarame ignored him, however, the unpleasant glee in his eyes reaching a fever pitch. "Still, my museum will recuperate from his loss in time. The only piece I ever truly regretted losing was your mother – did I ever tell you about her, Yusuke? The contributions she gave me were divine – it was such a pity I had to let her die."
"Pardon?" This time, when Yusuke spoke, his voice was full of ice.
The problem with Shadows is that by nature, they are egotistical things, and Palace Rulers tend to be the most egotistical Shadows of them all - so caught up with themselves and their desires, they blind themselves to the world around them.
The Madarame of the real world would have realised Yusuke's statement was a threat. He would have seen the glint of steel in his eyes and set out to pacify it. While Madarame had never quite been a master with a brush, he made up for that with his ability to weave words. His Shadow did not, however, and that was his undoing. The shogun gloated, and his former pupil laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until Goemon headed his call and he cut down a man he once loved.
…..
Madarame died – a stroke, the paramedics said – just as Yusuke stumbled out of his Palace, the destination more than deleted. What happened from there onwards was a blur – there was screaming, crying, phone calls, doctors, police and social workers.
The artist had three pupils at the time of his death, not including Yusuke. Akamatsu cried, begging the social workers not to send her back to her parents, and while they gave her soothing words and false reassurances, none of them listened to her pleas. Saito took her departure with more grace, her expression stony and solemn as she was sent back to her home in the countryside. Nakanohara was old enough to decide his own future, and left Madarame's atelier with his head held high, something burning in his eyes.
(While he never reached his former Sensei's level of fame, Yusuke did hear whispers of his name as the years went by. Nakanohara had managed to corner a small, but well-paying clientele with his rich, renaissance-style portraits. He was the only one of Madarame's pupils who ever became renowned as an artist.)
Yusuke's situation was a bit more complicated than the rest of Madarame's students, however. He had no parents – his maternal family were all dead (were murdered), and his father's identity was unknown. As the social workers hemmed and hawed, he cleared his throat, and they instantly grew silent.
"If I may? My scholarship at Kosei starts next month – all I need is the funds to look after myself until then, and then I will be provided for." He paused, hesitating as bile rose to the back of his throat as the colour gold floated to the surface of his mind. "I believe Madarame has a nest egg somewhere I can keep myself afloat with in the meantime."
Yusuke was right – a call to his former Sensei's bank confirmed it was quite a large one, in fact. The adults put up a cursory fuss, but eventually acquiesced. As Madarame's adopted child, Yusuke was the sole heir to his fortunes, and all of the social workers knew he'd be better off on his own for a brief period of time than he would be in the foster care system. Yusuke had always been an eccentric, sensitive soul, and children like that got eaten alive.
(Perhaps they'd have had a different opinion if they knew of Yusuke's powers.)
Despite what he'd said, however, the artist had no intention of using Madarame's blood money. Still, while he was used to subsiding on little, even Yusuke couldn't survive on nothing. Instead, after several days with no food or electricity, he took the train to Shibuya and withdrew his phone.
Words like desire and distortion meant little to him, but they didn't need to – a picture painted a thousand words, and every single Palace he entered had one unmistakable similarity. They were awful. Floating banks with walking ATMs, butcher's shops overlayed on top of hospitals, strings holding puppets up on a stage, and faceless women with exposed breasts gyrating on poles. There was blood and guts and dirt and the superficial veneer of luxury the Palaces used to disguise it only increased the rot.
Unlike his initial awakening, what Yusuke found brought him no anger, but a deep, soul-crushing grief.
It was not just money that drew him to the Metaverse – the world of the cognitive was by nature the epitome of human imagination. What sort of artist would ignore a reference like that? Instead of a realm of wonder, however, it was ugly. Finding Mementos only made that gnawing sensation that nibbled out of his stomach and sent ice crawling through his veins even worse.
Yet again, Yusuke laughed. He had discovered the Collective Unconsciousness itself – the heart and soul of every man – and it was the most hideous thing in the world.
It was on that fateful day, three months after Madarame's passing, that Yusuke had a divine revelation.
Mankind was a blight, and one that must be purged.
…..
Yusuke killed most of the Shadows he encountered. In his opinion, it was nothing more than taking out the trash – removing something rotten before it could stink out the room. The problem with his katana was that it was quick - one slash, and it was over. Some of the beasts he encountered – because calling them men was far too generous – didn't deserve that mercy.
Luckily, Goemon had an answer for that. A lament of truth – a song that would open one's eyes to the horrors of the world, and never let them close again.
Words like 'Mental Shutdowns' and 'Depressive Breakdowns' started to get bandied around on the news once he started to delve deeper into the Metaverse. When Yusuke heard them mentioned for the first time, he blinked, then proceeded on with the rest of his day.
…..
He paid it little heed when the rumours of Kamoshida Suguru's breakdown floated around Kosei. Gossip had never particularly interested Yusuke - it was a vapid thing, lacking in substance and beauty both.
Not that anything seemed particularly beautiful these days.
That was the reason why he didn't approach Takamaki Ann at the start of May. Her blonde hair that glimmered in the sunlight like straw spun into glistening gold instantly caught the eye, but he only took one step towards it before stopping in his tracks. Surface beauty was hardly rousing when he knew all too well the darkness that lay underneath.
Instead, his first official encounter with the Phantom Thieves of Hearts happened in the Palace of Kaneshiro Junya. One of his classmates had been acting so unusually even the socially inept Yusuke noticed it, and a visit to the boy's Shadow quickly explained why. While Yusuke had found himself in the mafioso's Palace a few times before, he'd never quite figured out the trick in cognition that would make the floating bank fall. This time though, when the fox-masked killer slipped into Kaneshiro's cognitive world, brows rose in shock. Instead of circling the skies like an alien invader, the bank floated in place, a long set of stairs connecting it to the earth. He thought little of it at the time, too busy revelling in his newfound luck.
When he slinked into Kaneshiro's bank and saw a group of beaten and bruised teenagers surrounded by a horde of Shadows, however, the artist's jaw dropped to the floor. The bank hadn't descended on a mere whim – it had been summoned.
The criminal's Shadow gloated, his attention transfixed on a brunette standing at the front of the group. While Yusuke could admittedly be oblivious, he was no idiot – it was patently obvious what Kaneshiro was threatening the girl with. Eyes narrowing to slits, Yusuke's hand drifted to his blade, but he was beaten to the punch. The girl roared before collapsing, gripping her head as she doubled over. Stepping forward, her eyes glowed with malice as the ground shattered beneath her feet, and a cyclone of blue engulfed her like a hurricane. By the time the light faded, her school uniform had been replaced with a spikey leather jumpsuit, and instead of summoning an ancient warrior from a nobler time, an ethereal motorbike manifested underneath him.
Instead of grabbing his katana, Yusuke ripped out his sketchbook as inspiration grabbed him in its grip - he'd never seen such a raw, unbridled expression of emotion in a long, long time, divine rage untempered by filthy, earthly desires. Alas, by the time he finished expunging his artistic vision onto his makeshift canvas, the teenagers were gone.
The artist spend that night tossing and turning. Who were these strange people? How did they discover the realm of the human heart? Had they seen mankind's truest form, and came to the conclusion that the weeds that infested it were in dire need of pruning?
For the first time in years, he hoped. Alas, Yusuke was destined to be disappointed - it was fate, after all.
When he returned to Kaneshiro's Palace to observe the other Metaverse users from afar, he discovered the answer to his most important question was no. They were the rumoured Phantom Thieves of Hearts, and despite witnessing everything that Yusuke had, they still believed in humanity. They believed in redemption and inspiration and all that other insipid nonsense the artist had abandoned along with his childhood.
Yusuke scoffed – what a disappointment.
When he murdered Kaneshiro later that night, Yusuke fell asleep the second his head touched the pillow.
…..
Yusuke's first official encounter with Amamiya Ren happened approximately a week later. He was in Shibuya, people-watching – a habit he hadn't quite managed to break despite his disdain for humanity – when he saw the boy. The frizzy-haired teen was sculling an Aojiru drink with a faintly constipated expression while a cat perched on his shoulders and yelled encouragement to him. Quite literally – if Yusuke didn't know otherwise, he'd swear the animal was actually talking. It was so utterly bizarre that the artist was enraptured immediately.
"Hey, Ren!" A voice echoed through the air as Yusuke frantically began to sketch. "That guy's looking at us weirdly!"
"Get in the bag, Morgana." Someone replied calmly, and when Yusuke lifted his head to get another reference, he recoiled in shock as he realised the boy had closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
He was an unassuming specimen – his glasses obscured his eyes, and his hair was just a tad too unruly to be charming – but something in his smile instantly caught Yusuke's eye.
"Hey. Wanna see my cat?" The boy offered like that was a completely normal thing to say.
"Yes please." Yusuke nodded, completely missing that that was not a normal thing to say. "Do you mind mimicking that expression of disgust you wore earlier?"
The boy's grin deepened, and he pulled his protesting animal out of his satchel before pulling a delightfully hideous face. Despite their meeting being pure happenstance, it was a fortuitous one – the other teen was an excellent model.
"Thank you." Yusuke bowed once he was done. "Feel free to go on with your day."
"Can I see it?" The boy asked, and upon receiving a nod, peeked over Yusuke's shoulder. "Huh. That's pretty good."
"It's nothing but a foundation." The artist shook his head. "Only a master of the craft can create a true masterpiece in a scant handful of seconds – it is only with time and tinkering that this piece will truly flourish."
"… You're really passionate about your art, aren't you?" The boy murmured, something shining in his grey eyes. "Do you take commissions? I have these cards I'm fond of, and I'd love to get some backups in case I lose them…"
That encounter marked the start of Yusuke and Amamiya's pleasant if transactional relationship. While Yusuke did not seek companionship with other people – quite frankly, he'd never met anyone who hadn't disappointed him – the other boy was surprisingly tolerable. Amamiya had no Shadow, and ergo, was exactly the person he presented himself as - an unusual novelty for Yusuke.
One evening, after passing the other teen some of those strange cards he so desperately desired, Yusuke's stomach suddenly let out a loud gurgle, and the artist couldn't help but wince. "My apologies – it's been a few days since I last ate."
"… What." Amamiya stated flatly.
"It's been a few days since I last ate." Yusuke clarified.
"… Yes, I got that, I was just wondering why."
The artist couldn't help but beam as he was reminded of his wonderful purchase. "There was a sale on Rembrandt oil paints, and I instantly knew I had to add them to my repertoire! The ultramarine in particular is delightfully rich-"
Yusuke was cut off when with a sigh, Amamiya raised his hand. "Come with me."
And that was how he discovered Café Leblanc, and by proxy, Sakura Futaba.
…..
If Amamiya was tolerable, Leblanc was divine. The rich scent of coffee that permeated the air was positively tantalising, and while the café's interior decorating could be better, that minus was made up for by the way the proprietor kept on giving Yusuke free food for some reason.
He'd departed the train at Yogen-Jaya one morning - the summer's heat had taken a turn for the wretched, so the artist decided to take advantage of both the café's quiet ambience and aircon - when a familiar mop of black hair caught his eye. It was Amamiya. The teenager wasn't alone, joined by a pair of blondes and brunettes, some of whom seemed vaguely familiar for some strange reason.
The teens rounded the corner, and after a moment's hesitation, Yusuke decided to follow. Given he'd introduced Yusuke to his new haven, Amamiya deserved a few words of gratitude. He was half a second away from calling out to them when the other teen pulled out his phone and everything twisted.
The pavement beneath Yusuke's feet gave way to shifting sands as the rays of light pulsing down on his back intensified, heat eating away at his skin. Stumbling, blue fire briefly enveloped him as his attire of rebellion manifested. The artist couldn't help but blink in confusion as he stared down at his gloved hands. That was odd – this was clearly the Metaverse, but Yusuke swore he hadn't touched his phone.
"Uh, guys?" A high-pitched voice suddenly squealed. "I think we've got a problem."
…..
The Phantom Thieves bickered amongst themselves for a moment, before deciding they should take this conversation somewhere else. Somewhere else turned out to be Leblanc's attic, which doubled as Amamiya's abode. Yusuke nodded along politely as the motley group of teenagers reluctantly explained their story. Truthfully, the most interesting revelation was that Amamiya's pet cat was the bakeneko he'd seen in that desert Palace, who was also the source of the Phantom Thieves' knowledge about the Metaverse.
"How interesting…" Yusuke murmured as they explained Treasures, Calling Cards, and how they changed one's heart.
While he still failed to see the merit of it when a far more decisive alternative existed, it was genuinely fascinating to discover how the Thieves had manipulated the Metaverse to suit their ends. Yusuke had figured out this reality affected the Metaverse by now, but he'd never thought of utilising it in such a way.
"So, how the heck d'ya know about the Metaverse, anyway?" Sakamoto frowned, the vulgar boy's expression somewhat pinched.
"I assume the Metanav appeared on his phone, much the same way it did for the rest of us…" Niijima murmured. "We do know there's at least one other Metaverse user out there, after all."
"Oh?" Yusuke tilted his head.
"That's right." Morgana gave a solemn nod, and Yusuke barely resisted the itch to draw him. "All those Mental Shutdowns lately? We think they're the handiwork of someone with the Metanav."
Togo rubbed her chin. "I also suspect that the Depressive Breakdowns may be connected with the other world too. Alas, we have little in the way of evidence…"
"Woah!" Sakamoto's eyes suddenly blew wide open, before he pointed a finger at Yusuke. "It's not you, is it?!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ryuji." The other blonde – Takamaki – snapped. "He's an artist! They're sensitive souls."
"When did the Metanav appear on your phone, Kitagawa-kun?" Niijima asked, voice perfectly even.
They were fools - they should have ascertained if Yusuke was a threat or a foe well before they told him their story. But then again, the Phantom Thieves had already confirmed that fact a long, long time ago.
"April this year, around the same time as Amamiya." Yusuke calmly stated, the lie flowing easily off his lips. "I've primarily been using it as inspiration for my art." That, at the very least, was the truth.
(Even if his art was the art of death these days.)
A slight look of disappointment flashed into Togo and Niijima's eyes, their suspicions seemingly axed, while Amamiya's expression turned contemplative.
"Huh. I guess that's why you wanted all that blue paint."
Yusuke had absolutely no idea what the other teenager was talking about, and nor did he ask.
It was then that the conversation took another drastic turn.
"I know! Why don't you join us?" Morgana yowled, blue eyes shining with delight. "We could really use a bit of extra firepower for this Palace!"
Expressions of shock formed on the gathered teenagers' faces, though they paled in the face of Yusuke's own surprise.
"Mona, you're being hasty." Amamiya corrected. "Kitagawa doesn't even know whose heart we're changing right now, let alone why."
"Quite." Niijima shot him an inquisitive look. "Have you heard of Medjed, Kitagawa-kun?"
The answer was no, not really, but the brunette was more than happy to enlighten him. Her tale of hackers and cybercrime went well over his head – electronics had always baffled him – but yet again, his brain snagged on the story's smaller details.
"I don't understand it." His brows furrowed. "Sakura's Tomb – it doesn't make any sense. Palaces are born from the depths of humanity's evil, and yet, from what you have described, she's committed no crime."
Morgana nodded. "That's true for most Palaces, yes, but distortions aren't always inherently evil in nature. Futaba's… I think it mainly just hurts herself."
Yusuke arched a sceptical brow and kept the derision out of his voice. "Now that, I have to see."
And thus, Kitagawa Yusuke temporarily joined the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.
…..
The infiltration of Sakura Futaba's Palace was… harrowing, to say the least. The tomb itself wasn't unpleasant by Palace standards – the pyramid fit the golden ratio perfectly from the outside, and the interior lacked the gaudiness that tended to plague constructs of the mind. It was one of the most aesthetically pleasing and physically pleasant Palaces he'd ever traversed through.
There were two main problems, however. Firstly, when it came to battles, Yusuke had to hold back. A lot. If he outperformed the Thieves after all, his tale about only gaining access to the Metaverse in April would be exposed as the lie it was. Shadows that he could normally fell in a single strike instead pelted him with their magic, forcing him to grit his teeth as their flames bit into his skin. Still, that was the lesser of his issues. Many of the Phantom Thieves possessed healing spells that could soothe his wounds, and the wide array of elements they had in their arsenal reduced the amount of magic he needed to spend.
No - the major issue was that no matter how hard he looked, Yusuke could find no evidence of Sakura's evil. Her Shadow itself was as prickly as it was forlorn, and the murals they unmuddied revealed no infernal sins. Sakura hadn't sabotaged her late mother's vaunted work in a cry for attention, or pushed her onto the road when Wakaba's neglect grew too heavy to bear. There were those echoing voices that sometimes plagued the pyramid, of course, but the men and woman accusing a child of murder felt far crueller than said child ever did.
It was wrong. It was an aberration. It spat on everything Yusuke ever knew about Palaces in general, and he did not like it.
His unease hadn't faded by the time the Calling Card was sent. His stomach churned as the Palace's greens and golds were warped into a twisted red, the air pulsing in time with the hammering of Sakura's heart. Yusuke wasn't entirely sure what would unsettle him more – if Sakura's Shadow revealed its true form, finally exposing her rotten core to the world, or if it didn't. In yet another unanticipated twist, however, it was not Sakura's Shadow who confronted them at the top of her Tomb – it was a giant sphynx wearing the face of her mother. The battle was gruelling, not helped by the fact that the Cognition had a nasty habit of leaving their range. If Yusuke put just a little bit too much strength into his blows whenever the monster grew near, well… the Phantom Thieves were a bit too preoccupied to pick up on it.
Yusuke was three seconds away from dropping the act and blasting the Cognitive Wakaba to hell when a startled yelp echoed across the pyramid's roof.
"Huh? Futaba?!"
Whirling around, the artist's jaw dropped wide open. It was not the Tomb's pharaoh standing behind them, but the reclusive girl herself.
So far, the entire Palace had been a giant contradiction. In hindsight, he should have known a Ruler awakening to their Persona in the labyrinth of their own heart was the natural denouement of the infiltration.
For the rest of the battle, Yusuke went on auto-pilot. Sakura shifted and warped the environment to their advantage, pinpointing the Cognitive Wakaba's every move with perfect accuracy. Amamiya commanded the Thieves, who each followed his commands like a well-oiled machine. Despite his stoic countenance, however, the artist was reeling. Sakura wasn't just innocent – she had committed herself to the eternal fight against injustice, no matter how insidious her opponents may be.
As nighttime finally fell, Yusuke stared unblinkingly at his ceiling. For the first time since he saw humanity's heart and decided it was beyond salvation, he was plagued with a trickle of doubt. If Sakura wasn't a villain, that meant that possessing a Palace did not mean one was beyond redemption. And that meant…
Maybe his crusade wasn't quite so righteous after all.
No. He narrowed his eyes as he turned over, glaring at the wall. I am not mistaken. Humanity is infested with vice, and the only way to destroy a weed is to dig it out from its roots.
(In a world far beyond this one, a false god laughed.)
…..
Yusuke accepted the invitation with grace when the Phantom Thieves engaged in their apparently usual post-Palace celebration. He'd never turn down free food, after all - Amamiya was so kind, offering to pay for him like that. When he was invited to Leblanc one day, however, and the Thieves sat around Amamiya's table and started discussing who they'd target next, he blinked his eyes in confusion. He had no idea why they'd invited him - it wasn't like he was a Thief. Still... while Yusuke's opinions on their justice hadn't wavered, it was clear they had an insight into the nature of the Metaverse he lacked. His dreams were still haunted by that infernal Tomb, and the implications it had for the dozens of Palaces the artist had torn through in the past.
After a moment's deliberation, he shrugged. "I'll join you for this next infiltration, but I cannot necessarily commit myself to your cause forever."
He'd stay with the Phantom Thieves for now, and see what the next Palace they entered had in store for them – whether it was an aberration like Sakura's, or whether it was a return to form. He would see if humanity wasn't quite as irredeemable as it seemed, or if Sakura was the bizarre exception he thought she was.
Sakamoto opened his mouth, ready to object, but Amamiya cut him off. "That's fine – I know you're busy with your art."
Yusuke offered him a brief smile in turn, and the conversation moved on to other things.
After a tedious amount of drama that quickly made Yusuke regret staying with the team, the next heist was finalised – the Phantom Thieves would take the heart of Okumura Kunikazu. As they traversed through the Spaceport, Yusuke's eyes scoured every inch of the Palace. He looked for hidden kindness, for remnants of the man the Palace Ruler was meant to have once been. The only thing he could find, however, was cruelty. Workers whose bodies bent and broke before being torn apart for scrap metal, and backstabbing managers who despite all their cattiness were united in fear of the one who lorded over their realm.
The further they got into Spaceport, the increasingly hollow the younger Okumura's words about her father rung.
After one excruciatingly tedious fight, the Spaceport finally collapsed. A press conference was arranged, and each of the Thieves was invited to a celebratory party at Destinyland. While Yusuke had enjoyed his previous celebration with the other teenagers, as they gathered on the day of the conference, the artist felt ill at ease. Despite its quality, the food tasted like ashes on his tongue – while he'd never turn down a free meal, yes, every bite made him think of the Spaceport of Greed. These canapés were bought with the blood of Okumura's workers – why was he the only one troubled by this?
By the time Okumura finally aired his confession, admitting to his crimes of corporate sabotage, worker abuse, union-busting, and work health and safety violations with a dignity he did not deserve, the artist had completely lost his appetite.
Still, he could at least take a piece of dark satisfaction from this debacle – in the end, Yusuke had been right.
…..
He joined the Phantom Thieves for their next infiltration meeting, though unlike last time, he had no particular desire to accompany them wherever they went. As far as Yusuke was concerned, their working relationship had run its course. He'd given them a chance to prove that the hearts they changed truly deserved a shot at redemption, and the answer had been no.
Unfortunately, Niijima ended up derailing his plans. Her sister was working herself to the bone, so singlemindedly focused on her goal of a promotion she paid no heed to how her actions were affecting herself or others. The brunette's allusions to self-destruction wasn't what swayed Yusuke, however. No - it turned out the older Niijima worked for the SIU, and if the Phantom Thieves managed to return her to the person she once was, there was a chance she could get the police off their backs.
Okumura's confession had sent the ruling elite into a frenzy – a thirty-million-yen reward for information on the Phantom Thieves was announced just last week. Even though the artist wasn't truly part of the group, they knew his name and face – if they were captured, there was a good chance they would drag him down with them. That was the reason why when Amamiya started the vote on whether they should change Niijima Sae's heart, Yusuke reluctantly said yes.
The Casino of Envy was on the smaller side for a Palace – a newfound distortion that likely hadn't had the chance to truly set its hooks into the courthouse it once was – but despite Niijima's protests to the contrary, it was no less foul than its larger counterparts. He cared little that the prosecutor still saw people as humans – quite frankly, that was such a low bar to pass it might as well be touching the floor. For god's sake, the Palace was a place of law that had been warped into a rigged casino – the metaphor spoke for itself.
They were about halfway through the Palace when Yusuke finally snapped. Amamiya was busy with one of his myriad part-time jobs, which meant the Casino would be empty of interlopers that afternoon. Righteous fury blazing within him, Yusuke entered the den of vice and stormed up to the front counter, demanding to see the manager.
Thankfully, the prosecutor didn't keep him waiting. In a flash of light, she seemingly manifested from nowhere - a trick the Shadow seemed to love.
"How interesting. When I heard you Thieves had returned to my Palace, I expected a crowd. Instead, it's just you on your lonesome. Did your companions come to their senses and finally give up?"
"I'm not a thief." Yusuke's lips curled into a frigid snarl.
Instantly, the Shadow Niijima stiffened, eyes widening for just a moment as the implications of his words sunk in. While her flunkies reached for their guns, the Shadow made no move to attack, though the dangerous edge to her voice proved she wasn't as unrattled by his admission as she was pretending she was. "Well then – if it's not my Treasure you're seeking, why are you here?"
He took off his mask, and stared defiantly into her eyes. "The only thing I want from you is the truth." If you're even capable of such a thing.
While her make-up gave her the illusion of a constant smirk, Yusuke had a keen enough eye to pick up the Shadow's slight frown. "… Fine." She eventually acquiesced. "Ask away, though depending on your question, I may not grant you an answer."
"You ruin lives to suit your own twisted agenda with nary a hint of remorse. I don't care that it's just business – you have no right to profit off the suffering of others. And yet, your sister is still naïve enough to think you're someone worth saving. Tell me, Niijima Sae… what on earth have you done to deserve her devotion?"
A laugh somewhere between shocked and incredulous spluttered out of the Shadow's throat. "I'm sorry. Are you – are you seriously asking what I've done for Makoto?!" She spread her arms out widely. "What haven't I done for her? I work myself to the bone every single day to give her the best possible education I can! I put up with colleagues who think I'll never amount to anything purely because of my gender so I can put food on her plate! Everything I do is so she doesn't have to go through half the shit I have!"
Yusuke watched the Shadow's rant dispassionately as something finally clicked in his mind. He'd wondered where the Envy part of the Palace had been, and it looked like he'd finally found it.
"Why bother doing any of that?" He asked. "It's clear you don't want to."
She blinked slowly, looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "Because I love her?"
The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. For some awful, dreadful reason, Madarame's visage suddenly flashed into his mind. Wheezing, he reeled backwards. The words had slipped out the Shadow's mouth so easily, like she couldn't grasp the possibility of thinking anything else.
It was an impossibility. Shadows didn't love people, let alone the same ones they resented.
"Things won't always be this way though." The Shadow's expression grew dreamy, oblivious to Yusuke's distress. "I'll find the Phantom Thieves, get a promotion, and everything will be better."
Ignoring the prosecutor, he turned on his heel and stumbled out of the Palace. By the time Yusuke returned to the real world, the artist had started to hyperventilate. Love. It didn't make any sense. People didn't destroy themselves for love. Marching down the street, he caught a reflection on a storefront's windowsill in the corner of his eyes, and for a split second, swore he saw an elderly man with a kindly smile looking back at him. Greed, hatred, and hedonism, yes, but never, ever love.
Memories of the day Madarame taught him how to hold a brush flashed into his mind, and Yusuke furiously shook his head. Enough with these damned thoughts! Clutching his head, he ducked into a side street and leaned against the wall. So what that Niijima Sae had some virtue buried deep in her rotten heart? So what that Sakura Futaba was a victim as opposed to a perpetrator? It mattered not – humanity was wretched to its core. Two minor subversions would not save the species or the planet.
As his breathing finally began to slow, Yusuke realised he'd had his breakdown outside of a small café. The TV blared from the inside, and glancing over his shoulders, the artist's eyes met a harsh, electronic screen.
"Okumura's confession was chilling and surprising in equal measure." A bald man in glasses confessed. "I had high hopes that we would be allies one day, working together in the field of politics to create a better tomorrow, and I am just as disappointed and let down as the rest of you. Still, it has shown me something – the police alone aren't enough. Japan needs a strong, independent task force dedicated to stopping corruption at the highest level! If I am elected prime minister, I promise to…"
Yusuke tuned out the rest of the speech as he finally realised who the speaker was. Masayoshi Shido. The man Japan was regaling as their saviour. The epitome of their society and their culture.
Yusuke took out his phone as a deep, mirthless laugh bubbled out of his throat. What a perfect test. If Japan's chosen one was a champion who could steer this country away from vice, Yusuke would admit defeat. He would accept that his rampage was not the holy crusade he had believed it was. If Shido was rotten to the core, however…
He was right. He won. His justice was absolute.
And win he did.
The politician's cruise ship made even Okumura's Spaceport look like a utopia. Occasionally, bodies floated to the surface of the water in the flooded Tokyo. The Cognitions filling the Palace were backstabbing cretins almost as wretched as the Captain himself, who saw the public he promised salvation to as nothing but a tool to be used and then discarded.
"Tell, Shido Masayoshi…" Yusuke tipped the defeated Shadow's head upwards with the top of his blade. "Do you love anyone in this wretched world outside of what they can provide to you?"
"Of course not." The Shadow spat, golden eyes burning with hatred to the very end. "Other people are nothing but ants – I'm the one chosen by God. Me!"
"How fascinating. No one's ever called me a god before." Yusuke mused, before plunging his blade deep into Shido's heart.
…..
"Yet another member of the National Diet was found dead this morning, another victim of the Mental Shutdown epidemic plaguing our nation's government lately…"
Ren's stomach clenched as he watched the news. The exploration of Sae's Palace had been completely derailed when seemingly overnight, three different politicians passed away, followed by more over the coming days. It had been the first time the Metaverse killer's movements had actually had a discernible pattern to them, and the Phantom Thieves' primary objective changed to catching the murderer before they plunged the country into even more chaos. It didn't help that more and more people were connecting the dots between the Shutdowns and the Thieves' very own Change of Hearts too – overnight, they'd changed from folk heroes to public enemy number one. It wasn't just justice pushing them forwards, but self-preservation.
There was one problem, however – the serial killer was constantly one step ahead of them. While they'd managed to save a few people whose Shadows were in the higher parts of Mementos, they hadn't been able to get more than halfway through any prospective target's Palaces before the building came caving in on them.
It had been over a month, and the Phantom Thieves' morale and energy were both fading. It didn't help that Yusuke had been too busy working on pieces for an exhibition of his to join them - the ronin had never been as passionate about changing hearts as the rest of them, but his Persona was strong, and he was handy with his blade.
"Be careful, alright? Avoid the city centre, and don't stay out too late." Sojiro shook his head as Ren stood up, breakfast finished. "It's a mess out there right now – riots, muggings, protests… you name it."
"I'm more worried about those cults." The teenager sighed.
People had been flooding the streets, praying for a saviour to come down from the heavens and bring peace back to the country. Ren had no qualms about religion in theory, but the worshippers' fervour was quite frankly uncanny. He'd take the pissed-off rioters any day of the week.
Before he knew it, the school day had come and gone, and the Phantom Thieves had gathered at both their first and last hideout – Shujin's roof. As soon as Ann managed to set up a video call with Hifumi and Futaba, Ren opened his mouth, but Makoto got there first.
"I'm sorry – I know the timing's awful, but I… I have to change Sae's heart." The brunette chewed her lip. "She fainted yesterday, and even though she's got medical leave, she left for the office again first thing this morning."
Quiet descended on the rooftop. Ren was torn – quite frankly, stopping the killer took priority over Makoto's workaholic sister, but… the student council president was his friend, and what sort of person would he be if he ignored her plight? Plus – a cynical part of his brain volunteered – it wasn't like they were having any luck catching the Metaverse murderer anyway. A detour probably wouldn't hurt. While it was a long debate, they eventually came to a reluctant but unanimous decision – they'd resume the Casino heist and change Niijima Sae's heart. It seemed he wasn't the only one sick of losing constantly.
Honestly, Ren should have known things were going to go tits up – going to a casino in hopes of winning something was always a terrible idea. The Phantom Thieves had barely taken three steps into the Metaverse when a loud cry pierced the air.
"What the fuck?!"
Whirling around, Ren froze as he set eyes on Niijima Sae. The living, human Niijima Sae, that was.
Shit. Busted.
Suffice to say, the ensuing fifty-minute conversation was even more excruciating than the one Ren and Futaba were forced to have with Sojiro. At least he didn't question them too deeply about the Metaverse stuff. Sae, on the other hand, was infinitely more curious, and even less impressed with them. The only upside was that the prosecutor didn't look that inclined to chuck the Phantom Thieves in jail.
"It's why I've been so busy lately." Makoto sighed as her recount of the Phantom Thieves' activities came to an end. "We're trying to find whoever is using the Metaverse to further their own ends, but we're basically grasping at shadows."
"… Isn't it obvious?" Sae furrowed her brow, and Ren didn't like the trepidation in her expression at all. "It's Kitagawa Yusuke."
The words felt like a slap to the face. Instantly, the Phantom Thieves broke out in protest. Sure, Yusuke wasn't one of the group necessarily, but he was still their friend. He'd helped save Futaba and coax the anxious girl out of her shell. Despite his clear discomfort with Okumura's Palace, he'd followed them till the end, and he had even assisted them during their earlier infiltrations to the Casino, despite the fact that his head wasn't the one on the chopping block.
The prosecutor remained unphased, however – instead, her expression only grew more and more pitying, until she let out a deep sigh. "Follow me."
If someone had told Ren that morning that he'd be spending his evening on a real-life infiltration of the SIU's headquarters, he never would have believed them. Truthfully, it was really somewhat boring – they just took the elevator and walked straight into Sae's office. The prosecutor sat down straight away, whipping out her laptop and typing up a storm. Eventually, she sighed before turning back to face the increasingly uncomfortable Thieves.
"Is the name Madarame familiar to you?" Everyone shook their heads, and Sae rubbed her temples. "He was a renowned artist and Kitagawa's foster father, who died of a suspected stroke two years ago – approximately the same time the Mental Shutdowns started."
Ice crawled through Ren's veins. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything."
"The coroner's report mentions a strange, ink-like substance was found on his face, but it evaporated shortly after he was brought to the morgue."
… Oh.
"Let me handle this, okay?" Sae gave them a tired smile. "Then we can all get some rest."
While Makoto perked up at that, it felt like a dark cloud was hovering over Ren. It didn't leave as he returned to Leblanc that evening, and lingered for the next few days until it was announced on the news that the police had arrested the chief suspect behind the Mental Shutdowns. Ren had thought he'd feel happy once the Metaverse killer was caught, but instead, the only emotion the teenager felt was grief.
He thought the feeling would fade away, and that Tokyo would return to the vibrant city he'd fallen in love with many months ago, but it didn't. No one trusted the words of Yoshida, Kasukabe, and whoever else remained of the decimated government. Anarchy gripped the streets, looters robbing the stores and cultists evangelising in the streets. A brief moment of dark irony gripped him – Yusuke would probably rather be behind bars than witness this.
When Morgana announced to the Phantom Thieves one lonely December morning that he thought there was something wrong with the Collective Unconsciousness, Ren felt nothing but relief.
…..
Prison, so far, had been somewhat irritating. Yusuke had been locked in a lone, isolated cell for what could have been either days or weeks. All that valuable drawing time, wasted. The experience was utterly drab as well – he'd seen the worst of the police's hearts and knew damn well the sorts of atrocities they inflicted on those in their care. Instead of facing their brutality, however, they'd just chucked him in a cell and left him to rot.
The artist supposed it was probably due to all the riots. His lips curled – the second Shido fell, humanity had revealed its true, ugly colours, no Metaverse required. Whether they be the selfish rioters revelling in their violence and greed, or the spineless beggars crying for salvation, they were hideous either way.
He was foolish for ever getting swayed by the Phantom Thieves' false promises – as long as people's desires were allowed to run rampant, the world would remain an ugly place.
"Indeed, you are correct."
Yusuke stiffened, before immediately leaping off his prison cot. "Who's there?!"
Before he could receive an answer, the world began to shake. Jaw dropping open, he could only watch with shock as bones burst from the ground, crumbling the wall and freeing him from the confines of his cell.
"I am the Holy Grail. I am Yaldabaoth." A loud voice boomed from nowhere and everywhere all at once. "And you have won the game."
As a path of flesh rose before Yusuke, reaching into the heavens, all became revealed. God himself had chosen the artist – and Amamiya too – as representatives of mankind. If Amamiya's justice prevailed, humanity would be left to its own devices. If Yusuke's justice prevailed, it was proof that mankind deserved ruin – their souls would be trapped in a prison of their own making as a new reality was birthed from their ashes.
"Take your place at my side." Yaldabaoth commanded as the god alighted down on the top of his temple. "And let us witness the birth of the new world together!"
Walking across the road of sinew and blood, Yusuke looked dispassionately down on the masses below. Some people screamed, running around in panic, and his lip curled. They were like headless chickens, the lot of them – the end was here no matter what they did, so why not face it with dignity? Still, they were at least better than the ones who ignored the blood lapping at their feet before disintegrating into motes of darkness.
He'd almost reached the apex of the temple when a loud shout pierced the air.
"Yusuke!"
Turning around, the artist's eyes widened as he saw the Phantom Thieves. "What are you doing here?"
"Whaddya think?" Sakamoto snarled, jabbing a finger towards the temple's peak. "We're stopping that thing!"
"And you too, if necessary." Amamiya sighed, withdrawing his knife.
"… You know, I always thought you were fools." Yusuke's voice dripped with menace as he unsheathed his katana. "You've seen what people are like – cruel, selfish, greedy and vindictive. How can you sincerely fight for a species as wretched as that?!"
"Because Ryuji was willing to sacrifice himself for a stranger. Because Ann spared the life of a man she hated so he didn't become a martyr. Because Hifumi and Haru fought people they loved because it was the right thing to do. Because Makoto could have turned a blind eye to the suffering around her, but didn't. Because despite her fear, Futaba asked for help and helped people in return." The frizzy-haired teen sighed. "You're right – society sucks and people suck too. But there's so much good out there as long as you're willing to look for it."
"It seems we're at an impasse." Yusuke touched his mask. "Let us decide who's right with force!"
The battle was long, brutal, and arduous. Brilliantly blue ice flooded the makeshift arena, contrasting starkly against the crimsons and reds of Yaldabaoth's world. Still, while Yusuke had infinitely more experience than the Thieves, they'd clearly been hard at work since their paths divulged. In the end, victory was decided by the one thing they had, and Yusuke didn't – numbers.
Wheezing, the artist dug his blade into the fleshy ground. Without it, he would have collapsed in a heap. The columns of ice dotting the battlefield shattered into a thousand pieces, his magic completely spent. Black spots danced in his vision, and while he refused to let go of his consciousness, the fact was undeniable.
He'd lost.
"Come on, let's go." Amamiya ordered his team.
The rest of the Thieves rushed past Yusuke. Some spared a pitying look at the defeated artist, but they had no time to waste on him – stopping Yaldabaoth took priority. When Amamiya reached his side, however, the teenager paused.
"Look around you, Yusuke – where's the beauty in this?"
As Amamiya hurried away, the artist lifted his head and surveyed the world around him. Blood flooded the streets like a perverse mirror of Shido's Palace, and rotten flesh and bone punctured the hollow carapace of metal that was all that was left of Tokyo city. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. Yusuke had vowed never to be so blind again after Madarame's manipulations, but yet again, it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes.
Amamiya was right – this wasn't beautiful at all.
…..
Snow fell from the sky as Yusuke strode through Shibuya Crossing, looking for silver hair.
"Prosecutor Niijima." He nodded as he finally found the woman. "Apologies – I'm not used to seeing you in so many clothes."
Her expression grew extremely troubled for a moment, but in the end, she decided to let sleeping dogs lie. "Thank you for coming – I appreciate your cooperation. I'll make sure your trial is fair and square, and I mean that. Are you ready to return to the station?"
For a moment, Yusuke hesitated. "… Ah. Truthfully, I was hoping to ask you a favour. I'll come peacefully and admit my sins, but… I just need a bit more time. There's something I need to do first."
…..
The new year had come and gone by the time Leblanc's door jingled, and a familiar woman entered the café
Ren shot Sae a smile. "The usual?"
"Sure, but that's not why I'm here." The prosecutor carefully placed a large, flat package down on the counter, and pushed it in his direction. "Kitagawa wanted me to give this to you."
After a moment's hesitation, Ren swallowed and tore open the wrapping paper. The teenager's breath caught in his throat as he saw what Yusuke had given him. The painting's style was somewhat abstract, but he could still recognise each of the Thieves as they took down Yaldabaoth, the stormy red skies surrounding the false god parting to reveal a brilliant light.
At the bottom of the canvas was a signature and a name.
Justice, by Kitagawa Yusuke.