Chapter 23: The Colors of Rage
Ω • Ω • Ω
•Akira•
The first thing they noticed, besides how gaudy the museum looked, was the massive line of people waiting to get into the building. It stretched all the way to the sidewalk, then began wrapping around.
Luckily for them, they had no need to wait in line. They found a truck parked next to a high wall and began hopping up and over, quickly making their way through a garden towards the right side of the building. There were few guards, most of them running to help the ones at the front of the building deal with the rowdy crowd that wanted in. They snuck through, eventually climbing yet another wall onto a shorter building next to the main museum, and entering through an open skylight with the help of some rope Mona kept in his pack.
His gloves protected him from rope burn, though with his heightened endurance from his Personas he probably wouldn't have even felt any pain at all. The room he found himself in was filled with various portraits, the canvases warping and moving slightly, and the colors meshing and sliding out of the lines.
Mona hopped down next to him, and frowned. "It's quiet in here… almost eerily so."
"Well, we haven't done anything to attract the attention of the guards, and no 'customers' are being let inside the museum…"
Panther and Skull slid down, and Panther focused on the sight of the odd paintings. "Whoa, they're… moving?"
"C'mon, we're in a Palace. That ain't anything to be freakin' out over."
"Hm, the Palace reflects the Ruler's heart, so these paintings could mean something. Let's check them out."
Everyone looked at each other and nodded, before splitting up. They all stayed within the room and within eyesight, but checked out different paintings. "Hey," Skull called as he looked at a plaque in front of a painting, "this one's got someone's name and age on it."
"This one too. Do you think it's the artist's name?"
He frowned at Ann's question, staring at a third plaque, also showing an age and name. "If these weren't painted by Madarame, but are up for display in his museum… then that plagiarism might have some credence to it."
"Maybe they're… hm… come on, let's check out the next room." Mona entered the room adjacent, and they followed, to see even more portraits lining the walls. The same things were on each plaque, name and age, while the paintings shifted eerily above them.
"This doesn't make any sense… Madarame-san is famous for having a variety of styles, but all of these paintings have the exact same style. This is way different from what was at the exh—"
"Wait a sec, check it out!" Skull pointed at a painting, and everyone's eyes widened when they saw a portrait of Nakanohara. "This was the guy we saw in Mementos! Y'know, the one shit-talkin' Madarame!"
"Natsuhiko Nakanohara," Mona read from the plaque.
"Dude, I don't get it! Why's there a painting of HIM here?! And why's his name written under it?!"
"Yeah, doesn't art usually have the title of the piece, or the artist's name under it?"
"Well, the paintings can't have been painted by the subjects of the portraits, they all look to have the same style to them… I believe." So he wasn't as brilliant with the arts as he was with academics, sue him. But even he could tell all the paintings were of the same style… even with the constant swirling and moving of the paint and canvases.
Their answer came at the end of the room, in the form of another familiar person, painted onto a canvas and with their name and age proudly displayed beneath: Yusuke Kitagawa. Though he only knew of two of Madarame's students, considering both were on display, and that there could have been no other explanation, he came to the conclusion easily enough, as did Panther, so it seemed. "Wait, you don't think these paintings are of…?"
He nodded at her. "His pupils."
"For real?! But it was just Yusuke at his place!"
"The paintings must include his former pupils as well," Mona answered. "After all, he is a famous artist. He must have had a huge number of pupils in the past. And only one remains now… Taking into account what Nakanohara mentioned earlier, things are becoming clearer." Mona motioned them forward, "Come on, let's keep investigating. We need something further to confirm our deductions."
The next room didn't exactly have that, but it certainly did have something useful. He unfolded the museum brochure he'd picked up from an information stand, finding a large map of the museum. "Man, this is gettin' way too detailed for a freakin' Palace… why'd he bother makin' somethin' like this?"
"At least the museum guide'll come in handy," Mona shrugged.
"Yeah! It might even show us the location of the Treasure!"
He tried locating it on the map, or any likely area it could be, while Mona nodded. "That is a possibility. At the very least, it should be a good reference for the scale of this place."
"Hmm… No dice. I don't see any likely place it could be, unless we somehow have incredible luck and this," he tapped the room next to the one the map said they were in, a circular area with a square pedestal in the center, "happens to be the Treasure room. No, I think we might only have half the map, up here, it says this corridor leads to the 'Central Garden.'"
"Hm. There also doesn't seem to be much of an elevation change."
He nodded at Mona. "Right. And since the building reaches up so high, I'm willing to bet the entrance to that towering part of the museum is past the gardens." He folded up the map and put it into his pockets.
"For now, let's just focus on confirming Madarame's cognition. We might have to reconsider our plan, depending on what we find."
"I mean, he's got a Palace… seems pretty sketch to me." They explored the main lobby for a minute more, finding a new saber for Mona to wield, before they entered the next room and were met with a giant golden statue, a spiraling one reaching towards the ceiling, with smaller statues of humans held aloft from it.
Mona zeroed in on the plaque in front of it, and waved a paw at it. "Look at this."
"'The Infinite Spring,'" Panther read aloud. "'A conglomerate work of art that the great director Madarame created with his own funds. These individuals must offer their ideas to the director for the rest of their lives… Those who cannot do so have no worth living!' Hey, this is most likely about the plagiarism, right?!"
"Alright, that seals it, we're kicking this guys ass."
Skull agreed, stomping his foot, "Dammit, what a phony geezer!"
"In other words, his pupils are his property. He doesn't even qualify as an artist if this is true. He's stealing the ideas from his talented students in exchange for securing their livelihood."
"You call that shack 'securing their livelihood," he scoffed, dropping the formality to his tone, anger tainting it. "That is no place for anyone to live! Hell, Yusuke's our age, he needs someplace where the wind isn't threatening to bust down the walls at any moment!"
"All those portraits of his pupils… They're really his pupils but under his cognition of them, with no worth of their own except for their art. Couldn't this also be about the abuse? He keeps them around so long as they're useful, but the moment they're not…"
"He's treating them like slaves, or tools!"
"Why'd Yusuke keepin' quiet about this?! He's basically coverin' up for Madarame!"
Panther looked down, closing her eyes. "He did say that he owed Madarame his life for being taken in…" Skull winced, and looked away.
"B-But still…"
"When we were at the exhibit, I praised one of the pieces on display. But… Kitagawa-kun acted strange. Maybe that piece was plagiarized too…"
"What's the call, Joker? Ain't this enough to target Madarame?!"
"I'm all for it."
"Hold on, we should get confirmation that this is actually happening, and not just a product of his cognition."
"How though?! You think he'll just straight up admit that he's been plagerizin'?! And Yusuke ain't sayin' shit!"
"We still need to try and get solid evidence that these crimes took place. Besides, there's a lot we don't know about Madarame yet."
"I still don't like it, but we shouldn't argue over this," he sighed. "Alright, let's go back to reality and start working on a plan."
"I'll contact Kitagawa-kun. Maybe I'll be able to get the truth out of him if I agree to model for him."
"Wait, you're gonna do that?!"
Ignoring Mona, she continued, "You all better come with me, alright? I'm scared to go alone…"
"Of course."
"You bet, Panther!"
"So, a world-famous and renowned artist, huh? This might be tougher than Kamoshida! Welp, we'll just prep ourselves until we get confirmation from Yusuke." Skill pumped his fists with a massive grin on his face. "Man, this is our first mission as actual Phantom Thieves! We're gonna succeed no matter what!"
His excitement was infectious, and even got Mona cheering along with the rest of them. "Yeah!"
Ω • Ω • Ω
It was later that night while he was lying in bed, that he got several notifications of activity in the group chat, his phone vibrating on the windowsill. He reached over and grabbed it, careful not to disturb Morgana who slept next to him.
Chat Room: The Phantom Thieves
Ann— Guys, I've got a question.
Ann— Would you really forgive someone unconditionally if you owe your life to them?
Ann— I'm not so sure anymore…
Ryuji— Whatre you bringin this up 4?
Ann— According to Kitagawa-kun, Madarame isn't a problem.
You— Like anything, I suppose it depends on the crime in question. Abuse and plagiarism… I don't know if I would be able to forgive that, even had I owed someone my life.
Ryuji— Somethin wrong?
Ann— I know that Madarame is a bad person…
Ann— But maybe I'm so hesitant because I haven't actually met any of his victims.
He hummed in acknowledgment of her point and rolled over. He could see where she was coming from, you were naturally more ready to help someone you knew, or hate someone who was hurting people you interacted with.
Ryuji— I guess
Ryuji— Yea that's p different from what happed wit Kamoshita
Ann— This may be extreme but…
Ann—But if an evil person isn't causing trouble NOW…
Ann's messages paused for a moment, the three dots that signaled someone was typing kept popping up and disappearing several times next to her picture square.
Ann— Is there really a point in stepping in?
Ryuji— Well u got a point
Ryuji— So we're gonna let Kitagawa decide if Madarames worth goin after?
Ryuji— I mean if it were me I'd never forgive the bastard!
You— In the end, I suppose we'll just have to see how Kitagawa-san feels.
Ann— Yeah. We can talk more after that.
Ann— Ok. Let's meet in Shibuya after school tomorrow.
You— Agreed.
Ryuji— Roger dodger
He closed his eyes and prepared to fall asleep, only for his phone to suddenly ring. He sighed and furrowed his brow, glancing at the screen. Ryuji's name flashed on it, so he swiped and pressed it against his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me. Listen, uh… I just can't forgive Madarame, but… What Ann said made me think."
"What do you mean?"
"To Yusuke… do you think that to him we're just a bunch of thugs?"
He hummed, and rolled over again. "...Possibly. If Madarame has done nothing to Kitagawa, neither abused nor plagiarized him, then Kitagawa could feel that we're insulting his sensei for no reason. Even then, even IF Madarame was plagiarizing him, if Kitagawa still felt indebted to him, he could still see us as thugs for daring to speak ill of his mentor."
"Damnit… I knew it! But it aint like he thinks it is! Pisses me off just thinkin' about it… good people have to put up with so much shit while… while shitty adults do whatever they want! It makes me sick!" A pause. "I ain't… I'm not wrong, am I?"
"No," he smiled. "Or at least, I don't think you're wrong."
"Thanks. And don't tell Ann I called, by the way. Seriously! Well, see you tomorrow!"
"Good night."
Morgana suddenly flicked him with his tail, burying his face in their pillow. "Go to bed!"
Ω • Ω • Ω
5/17, Tuesday
"I still can't believe how quickly Yusuke wanted Ann to come model for him," he muttered as he and Ryuji loitered around Shibuya's walkway.
"He probably dropped all his plans to get her over soon as he could," Ryuji snickered. "Hey speakin' of, she's late… where's— oh, there she is."
"Hey! Sorry," Ann jogged up to them, smiling awkwardly. "I was thinking about some things and didn't notice how much time had passed."
"Thinkin' about what?"
"Hopefully it was about studying so you do better on your next test," he quickly spoke, causing Ann to flush.
"Uh, no, more about how Kitagawa-kun's got to be protecting Madarame."
"Well, I suppose Phantom Thief work is almost as important as our grades…"
Only a person such as thee would think that.
My Kohai is certainly an interesting one.
For the love of god stop calling us that.
"Be serious for a moment," Ann admonished with a smile. "It makes sense, doesn't it? They live together, so he'd have to be aware of Madarame's true nature. The only reason I can think of him doing that is that Madarame has something on him…"
"Yeah, it's weird… but I guess that's why we're goin' to check it out. Ready to be a model?"
"Yeah, I'm prepared."
"Whaddya mean prepared? Prepared for what?"
"Maybe she did some stretches for if Yusuke wants to paint her in some weird pose," he chuckled.
"More like if I have to sit in the same position for hours," she muttered.
"Hm… hey, there somethin' different about Ann?"
Rubbing his chin, he looked the blond up and down. "She cut her bangs?"
Morgana huffed and shook his head. "Of course not, her hair is the same as ever!"
"You would know, I guess," Ryuji snickered.
"Can we get going already?" Ann huffed. "Kitagawa-kun seemed really happy when I agreed to be his model. Once he finishes drawing me and gets a little friendlier, we should bring up Madarame."
"Sounds like a plan to me." With that they began walking towards Madarame's shack, and Ann rang the doorbell. After a moment the door opened, Yusuke looking overjoyed to see Ann, before spotting him and Ryuji cheekily grinning from behind her. He silently turned and beckoned them in, leading them through several halls and finally into a room filled with art supplies, an easel and two stools already set up.
"I thought it would just be you coming, Takamaki-san," Yusuke finally commented, as he and Ryuji grabbed some spare seats and set them up.
"Wouldn't you get nervous too, if it were just the two of us?"
Ryuji waved Ann's excuse away, glaring at Yusuke. "We're just here to keep an eye on you, so don't try anything perverted, 'Kay?"
"Ryuji…" he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, he can be tactless. Though, I will admit I am slightly worried. You did essentially stalk her across the subway system just to ask her to model for you."
"I can see that, but I'd thank both of you to refrain from such odd assumptions. I have absolutely no interest in her as someone of the opposite sex."
"Huh?" He had to hold back snickers at the look on Ann's face. It was some kind of cross between confused, offended, and surprised.
"I guess Morgana's worrying over nothing then." Ryuji snorted at his remark and leant back in his chair as Yusuke looked at Ann in confusion.
"Did I say something odd?"
"No, not really…"
She crossed her legs and held her head in one hand, beginning to pose as Yusuke sat down before his easel and smiled at his supplies. "Well then, let's get started."
Ω • Ω • Ω
•Yusuke•
Sketch, sketch.
Hmm…
Sketch… sketch?
No.
He shook his head and began trying to rework what he'd done, erasing pencil marks. Pencil work was important, especially when he wasn't sure what he wanted to paint in the end. Just looking upon her he knew he wanted to paint… something involving her, as the representation of beauty, but…
Sketch sketch.
"…"
He thought he heard somebody talking, but ignored it. They probably weren't talking to him.
Sketch sketch?
…sketch, sketch.
"…"
Erase that, start over.
Sketch, sketch sketch.
No, no!
It just wasn't… what did he want to paint? Her, her beauty, but it just wasn't working…
Frustration bubbled up, swirling around… before something clicked.
He could see it, fiery passion! Red and yellow flames erupting from her, with some hints of blue. Her eyes glowed an eerie cyan, their natural color taken to the extreme, and a golden sheen covered said eyes, as she held a finger to her blood red lips. She sat upon the back of an attendant, a man shackled with a heart-helmet and collared with rose vines! And behind her— yes, there, he could see a mountain of rose heads— no, a person shaped by the roses, untouched by the thorns, but…
Sketchsketchsketch
A billow of fire there, rose petals flowing there, yes, yes…
But there's something in the way of this vision! What is it? He bites the inside of his cheek as he continues sketching and erasing and sketching, the paper looking more like a whirlwind of lines and dust than a proper drawing.
"…"
The noise of one of the guests speaking comes at a vulnerable moment between sketching and erasing, and he shoots to his feet. "No! Ah, my muse!" He began pacing, squinting, trying to recall that image. His sudden burst of energy had caught the guests off guard, the raven-haired one leaning back somewhat, and the dull one nearly falling from his chair. Takamaki-san looked shocked as well, but he ignored that and tried to imagine her in his mind, recreating the image.
When nothing came, he sighed. "No… it isn't working anymore."
"I'm sorry… am I the problem?"
"No, not at all. I had an image in my head, but now that it's vanished… I'm afraid that we'll have to continue this another time, when my muse has reappeared."
"Oh hell no! How many hours do you think you made us wait?!" Both the guests stood up, as did Takamaki-san. She looked nervous, actively wringing his hands.
"I'm sorry, but… there was another reason we came today. We needed to talk to you."
The dull one rubbed his nose, looking down at him. "'S about those rumors concernin' your sensei."
Irritation flared within him just as his muse would so often do, and he glared back. "Not this again…"
"The painting I saw at the exhibit… you're the one who actually painted it, aren't you?"
"That's…"
Takamaki-san gazed at him sadly, his lackluster response all but confirming it for her. "I knew it."
"Listen, your sensei's seriously messed up. He just thinks of his pupils as tools. That's why he didn't give a damn whether he steals their work or physically beats them. I'll make this clear— there ain't no point in hidin' shit from us."
He laughed, turning away, even as dark thoughts began hounding him. "Haha… I have no idea what you're talking about…"
"Ah, very well done!" Sensei pat his shoulder, smiling down at HIS painting—
"You couldn't go against him, could you? I'm sure we can help you out, though."
"Stop it." He shook his head and glared at Takamaki-san. "It's just as you all say. We're… our sensei's 'artwork.' But do not misunderstand me. I offered my ideas to him myself. As such, it can't be called plagiarism. Sensei is simply suffering from artist's block right now…"
"That isn't how it works." The raven-haired one cut in, sighing. "Plagiarism, by definition, is someone else taking credit for your work. It doesn't matter if you give consent for them to do so, and what about the other students that once stayed here? We've talked with them, and they confirmed several times when they didn't give permision yet Madarame still took ownership."
That… well… in those instances… he tried to find the words to explain it, as Takamaki-san looked upon him with pity. "Kitagawa-kun."
"Then why're you stickin' around?! All the other pupils left, right!?"
He snapped at the question, roaring at the boy with the dyed hair. "What is wrong with a pupil assisting his sensei?! There are no victims here! Stop pushing your self-centered righteousness onto me!"
"And those other pupils? I assume they, as well, are not victims."
"…" Clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes closed, he looked towards the ground. "I'm supporting Sensei as his pupil. Where's the wrong in that…?"
"You say that you don't see it as wrong, but…" the boy with the glasses stepped forward, peering at him with his bright eyes, sympathy shining in them. "You don't believe that, do you? Please, be honest with yourself, at the very least. We can't help you if you won't even admit the truth to yourself."
His mouth opened, and nothing came out. So many feelings were at war inside of himself. He owed everything to Sensei… but art was his very life. Did he deserve to give even that up to him? On the other hand, wasn't giving up something so important to him just to assist his Sensei another way of giving back? Do, don't, do, don't…
He collapsed onto his stool, and shook his head, even as sweat began dripping down his back. "Don't ever come back here again… if you do, I'll sue you for causing a disturbance."
"…if that is what you wish."
"Hold it, Aki! And you, we ain't finished talkin'!"
He felt his patience snap like a weak brush, and he shot back up, glaring at the faux-blond dullard. "In that case, you leave me no choice. I'm reporting you to the police." Glaring, he fished out his phone and opened it. "I asked Takamaki-san to be my model today, but I don't recall ever calling you two here!"
"What the eff, man?!"
"Ryuji, stop it!"
"Yes, shut UP, Ryuji. Kitagawa-san, I'd be grateful if you didn't resort to that right away. We'll leave, and we won't return." The look in the bespectacled boy's eyes was sincere, and he huffed in frustration. At the very least he wasn't as pushy.
"Yes, please, calm down. We'll leave, just… don't call the cops." Takamaki-san's gaze was pleading, and he took a deep breath.
"Very well, I won't report you. On one condition."
"Which would be…?"
"I wish for you to continue being my model, Takamaki-san."
"Alright, but… I thought you said you muse had vanished, or something?"
"Don't worry, I believe I've figured a way around that. I was attempting to be modest for your sake, Takamaki-san, but to reignite my muse and paint true beauty, I suppose it's best to simply bare it all." Both she and the dullard looked confused, but there was a spark in the raven-haired one that seemed like he understood. "And in doing so, I shall pour my heart and soul into creating the greatest nude painting ever!"
"WHAT?!"
"N-Nude?!"
"Ah, to think I'd be able to create a nude painting with my most ideal model!" He smiled, closing his eyes. Yes, the human form was one of the pinnacles of beauty, and when the model was someone as aesthetically pleasing as Takamaki-san, this would surely be his magnum opus! Already ideas were beginning to swirl once more!
"And why, exactly, do you think she'd be alright with that?" He was asked by one of the boys.
"Why wouldn't she be? Nude paintings and sculptures have been around for years, it's the very expression of beauty! Ah, of course, you wouldn't be allowed in, and I ask that you forget our discussion on my Sensei as well. I need to submit a new piece to Sensei soon, or there might be inconveniences…" he began muttering to himself, already making a plan of action. Sketching would have to begin as soon as possible, then the painting phase. But how long would—
"Nude, meaning without my clothing, right?! Why are things suddenly escalating like that?!"
"Because those are my terms," he answered in confusion. Honestly, what was the problem? She acted as though it were the end of the world. Ah. "Sensei will be out during the afternoons thanks to the exhibit, so you need not worry about any embarrassment if he were to walk in. I should purchase some more art supplies…"
"Ain't this kinda bad?" The faux-blond whispered.
"Would you give me a second here?!"
He nodded, smiling. "Of course, I'll make time according to your plans. But, please, make sure we have ample sessions before the exhibit's final day."
"No, that's not what I mean! Why are you not listening?!"
He wasn't? But she'd asked for time to get ready, and he'd answered, hadn't he? "We're done here for today, Takamaki-san. I'll be waiting for you to—" he was suddenly cut off when the raven-haired one grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into a wall.
"Alright, now you're gonna listen up. I don't know if it's your ears that aren't working, your brain, or if it's something wrong with the pathway in between. But if it's your ears, we're gonna clean them out, and if it's your brain, maybe shaking it enough will fix it, and god help you if it's the paths in between because who knows if me beating your head in will fix that." The boy with the glasses was now up close, glaring angrily at him and threatening him with words tainted by ice, and a rage colored like frost.
"W-Wait, Akira!"
"Whoa, Aki, I think—"
"Ryuji, shut the hell up. Ann, I'll handle this. Alright, Kitagawa, you're gonna explain, in real clear terms, why exactly you think forcing a girl to pose nude for a painting is okay. And if I like the explanation, maybe I won't break your little artist's face. Sound good?"
He blinked off the shock, and grabbed the hoodlum's wrists. "How dare— why're you suddenly manhandling me?!"
"That doesn't sound like an explanation to me!" He was suddenly shoved back, and he felt his back collide with a table, making agony shoot through his spine as several jars of paint fell and shattered on the floor. He knelt in pain, feeling the liquids seeping through his pants as he held a hand to his vertebrae's. Bright red paint, like the anger that the hooligan was raging with, pooled around him.
"Ow!"
"Akira, this is really getting out of hand, maybe we—"
"Ryuji, shut it! You pushed him with all your shouting and caused him to start threatening us, so obviously you should be on board with this!"
"Well I didn't want to kick his ass!"
"What, you think him sexually harassing Ann means he doesn't deserve to get his face pushed in?!"
"Sexual harassment?! What are you talking about?!" He stood up, but the maniac pushed him back down again, glaring at him, his silver eyes practically glowing— Were they?— while his friends watched worriedly from behind and paint splashed onto his clothing. That'd be difficult to get out… wait, focus. "All I've done is ask her to model for me!"
"NUDE! MODEL FOR YOU NUDE! DO YOU NOT SEE THE PROBLEM HERE?!" He grabbed him with one hand and raised the other, curling it into a fist, which both blonds suddenly grabbed. Below him he absently noticed the red paint mix with white, just like the boy's rage had turned white-hot.
"Akira, please, you don't need to start throwing punches!"
"Yeah, this is goin' a bit far!"
The boy clearly wasn't listening. His eyes were filled with a bright fury, and— alright, he was sure now, his eyes WERE glowing. They had to be! His glasses had fallen off at some point, and the way they were reflecting the light of the room—
"ARE YOU LISTENING, KITAGAWA?!" He was rattled from his thoughts again, and he shook his head.
"I'm not sure that we classify the same things as problems," he slowly answered, as it dawned on him that there must've been some mistake somewhere along the way. Why did they have such a problem with her modeling for him naked? "I've had several art classes where we painted nude models, so there isn't an issue with that…"
"And clearly, Ann DOES have an issue with it! You can't possibly tell me that you missed that!" Missed that? What? Was she not alright with the idea? He thought over the entire conversation, and there were some points where she did seem hesitant, but that was surely just from some embarrassment at the idea of someone walking in while he painted her. Wasn't it?
He frowned, and the boy above him closed his eyes and groaned. "Holy shit, you actually didn't notice that?" The paints had finished mixing, and just like him, had become a dull pinkish-gray.
"I…" he winced, not just from the pain that throbbed in his spine or how the boy was still holding him by the collar, or even the idea of what it'd take to clean his clothes, but rather how the conversation had gone now that he thought it over.
"Listen. Ann hasn't ever been to an art class. I'm sure she must have known that there are people who are nude modelers, and plenty of art pieces have been done on them, but if she has never participated in an art class, especially not one with a nude model, what makes you think she'd be alright with it? Especially when you pushed her straight into it? No questions on whether she was okay with it?"
Those shining silver eyes softened, and the boy lifted him up onto his feet. Peering closer he thought he could see more dancing colors, like that of a rainbow prism trapped within two orbs, dominated mostly by purest moonlight silver. "Looking at it that way…" He sighed, and straightened up, ignoring the protests from his back. "I can see now I may have been overzealous…"
The dull one snorted. "I think that goes more for Akira after he nearly trashed this whole room…" Takamaki-san elbowed him, and… Akira finally took notice of some of the damage he'd done.
"Oh. Uh…" Hesitantly letting him go and half-heartedly brushing some dust from his Kosei uniform— ah, he knew he'd forgotten something, he didn't put on cheaper clothes, even if he were only planning on sketching today, when working near paint— oh, Akira was speaking. "Sorry about… the yelling. And pushing. I uh… was simply worried about my friend."
There was a noticeable difference there. From before, during and after, his patterns of speech, and his eyes, they were almost connected. Before the incident, though he payed near no attention to him, those eyes were clouded and had hidden depths that he couldn't see, and his words and how he spoke was thought out and careful. Then, both the cold rage, and white hot, his words flew freely, and his eyes glowed with his emotions. But was that merely metaphorical? Had his own eyes lied to him, on what was happening with Akira's?
He absentmindedly realized Akira was still speaking, yet was too preoccupied with his own thoughts. His hands, unnoticed, waved very slightly at waist-level, going through the motions of painting, an image taking shape within his mind.
And now, in the aftermath, Akira's eyes were more open. Perhaps, if one were to use the rather popular phrase that 'the eyes were the windows of the soul,' before those eyes had their blinds drawn, and the windows latched, whereas now the blinds were pulled back, unlatched, and the windows were half-open. Several more raw emotions were visible. Akira was clearly embarrassed, there was shock and fear as well, possibly at how far he'd gone. Or perhaps it was fear for his friends, if he ended up calling the police now.
But alongside that was determination, yet for what? The determination to keep arguing, until he promised not to paint Takamaki-san nude? Well he didn't need to do that, he'd already realized his mistake… there was also… also… what was that look? What lingered there? He almost thought his determination was the only emotion there that had to do with his willingness to fight for his friends, but what was that other one, mixed in? It was like… a feeling of reb—
Deep black, mixed with dark gray and bright, pure red! Silver orbs peered from within dark shadows, and flecks of bright golden light exploded from those pure windows— no, not windows of the soul, but doors, opened wide with mischief and rebellion and trickery spilling from them. And behind him, the living shadows would coil and spin, like great gusts of dark wind, as blackened feathers flew from—
He idly realized that at some point he'd stopped facing Akira and was now facing his easel, pencils flying as he sketched. He physically forced himself to halt, slowly turning back to his astonished guests, as they stared at some half-finished piece of art that had taken form on his canvas. Oh, there was no color, yet, and it was mostly dark lines, no concrete shapes, but the speed of it had clearly surprised them. "My apologies," he spoke, desperately trying to keep his image in the front of his mind. "But it seems I made some assumptions during our conversation."
"Ah… it's fine?"
"She means that, Kitagawa, in the sense that she still won't be modeling nude."
"I can speak for myself, Akira," she sighed, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. The boy stuttered in embarrassment, before clearing his throat and looking away.
"No, I understand the need to explain it plainly. I suppose I am not… the best at interacting with others. And I also suppose that you are no longer comfortable modeling for me? Regular modeling, not…"
"Ahaha…" Takamaki-san blushed and nodded. "If you really need me to come back, well…"
"No, it's alright. I believe I have another idea that would suit us both better." He looked directly to Akira and bowed. "I apologize for everything that's occurred today, but I must humbly ask that you become my model."
"Eh?"
"Takamaki-san is too uncomfortable to continue being my model. Along with that, I've gotten several ideas…" he trailed off, circling Akira, before getting back on track. "Ahem. Several ideas from you. I'd like you to model for them."
"…dude, I think he's comin' onto you…" Akira turned and elbowed his companion in the stomach.
"Well, it's the least I can do after… destroying your supplies and physically manhandling you." He blinked and looked around. Oh, that's right, he'd forgotten about that…
"It's alright, it gave me some good inspiration."
"O…Kay… uh, well, I'll pay you back for these. And I'll do the modeling. And all that."
"Good, good. How does Friday sound? You can look over my sketches then. I'll probably also have some new ideas for more by then, or have you model for them…" yes, he had a good few ideas now, though when he came around again he might decide to have Akira try several poses and see whether they struck him with inspiration…
"Sure. You… want us to help clean this up?"
"Hm? No, no, I have to get started sketching now before I lose my muse. Go, go, I'll contact you later." He grabbed Akira by the shoulders and turned him around, shooing them from the house. There were some protests, but they left quickly, and he happily sat back down, grabbing some undamaged supplies. "Now, let's see…"
Ω • Ω • Ω
•Morgana•
He returned to the room where Lady Ann was modeling, a triumphant expression on his face. His unfortunate cat-like form— and only like, he wasn't truly a cat!— made it not so easy to see, but it was definitely a triumphant expression!
He'd found a locked door during his exploration of Madarame's run down shack— a very fancy locked door, whose lock was incredibly impressive. Whatever was inside there was clearly important. He'd bet his most prized possessions that that very door might appear within Madarame's museum, and would be tied tightly to a cognition of his!
He opened his mouth to exclaim his success, only to find the room a mess, the floor covered in paint, several easels knocked over, and Yusuke sketching away wildly with an ecstatic expression on his face, with his fellow Phantom Thieves nowhere to be found.
"…the hell happened here?!"
Whoo, another chapter out. I enjoyed writing more segments from Yusuke's point of view, having him go off on mental tangents and having his thoughts bounce all over the place as everyone tries to keep him focused. It gets me even more excited to write scenes where he and Oracle interact.
And yes, Yusuke's ability to 'see' their Personas, even if it's a mess of colors to him, will eventually be explained.
Anyway, this is probably the first real 'major' change thats occured, even if it is relatively minor. They still have a time limit, still have a way into the shack if they need it, only difference is who is the model, and that Akira's fine going there. In the game Joker doesn't speak up at all against Yusuke, and I can only assume it's because he heard 'call the police' and had some flashbacks to Senator Armstrong's ass suing him, before freezing up. That, and he's probably more well adjusted than Akira is in this story lol.
So, I'm uploading this from my phone using the crappy mobile app's documents section and can only hope their are no weird glitches or bad formatting errors. I'll have to fix any that do appear when I finally get home from work in a few hours, and apologize for any that are there. But other than that, not much else, so leave a review on everything you liked in this chapter or just a 'nice,' both are always great to read. See y'all next time!