Persona 5: Daywatch

by Ganheim

Akira is banished to Tokyo by his own father. What begins as a near-suicidal quest for vengeance becomes a desperate attempt to turn the pieces of his life into an honest whole. Aided by clever strategists and opposed by supernatural puppeteers, one lost boy's quest for something greater clashes those who would think themselves gods over men, and demons within. AU elements.

65. June 28th, Goemon

Persona 5: Daywatch

Tuesday, 28 June 2016
After School
Madarame's Museum

A panicked scream tore out of Ann's throat as she plummeted who-knew-how-far through empty air before landing in Yusuke's outstretched arms. The impact sent the pair toppling to a tangle of limbs sprawled on the ground. The impact dazed both teens and she blinked, trying to figure out where they were. Looking up, Ann saw polished gold and frowned. She was about to mutter how that didn't help her, until she followed the gold up along a spiral of students, each lifting up the next one. "The Infinite Spring…"

Yusuke's hand flopped onto a boob and squeezed.

Ann squeaked and her body lashed out, knocking the sitting apprentice sprawling back with a pained groan. As soon as she got onto her feet, embarrassment flooded her face with heat. "Sorry! Are you okay?"

Yusuke pushed himself up to all fours, his eyes wide and breathing still rapid. "Where am I?" His wide eyes, jerking about their surroundings, locked onto hers, then gave her a once over. Then another. A blush touched his cheeks. "W-Who are you? Where is this?"

She held out her hands, feeling what comfort she could from the familiarity of seeing the leather of her Phantom Thief costume on her outstretched arms. "Calm down, Kitagawa-kun." When his brows still arched in confusion and breathing refused to slow down, she twirled in the same pose she gave for Madarame when she tried to pretend to be his model. "Remember?"

Yusuke looked her up and down, a little more analytic than last time, though his blush still deepened. "T… Takamaki-san? I did ask you to model, but did not expect something so… bold."

She covered her chest with her hand, her self-consciousness smothering her. "It… it's not safe. We'd better get out of Madarame's Palace."

Standing, Yusuke looked her in the eye. "Palace? Takamaki-san, are you sure you're quite all right? Where are we?" He turned to take in the large, circular room with leafless trees painted against the sides, until he spotted a banner proclaiming the greatness of Madarame. That brought his gaze up to the spiral. Yusuke backed up, his jacket falling forgotten from his hand. His lip curled in disgust as he took in the giant gold statue. "What is that gaudy monstrosity?"

Listening for Shadows, Ann drew her pistol and turned on her gun-light. "It's called the Infinite Spring." She paced forward and held the light on the placard for him to read.

After a moment of trepidation at the weapon, he shuffled forward and read. By the time he straightened, his eyes narrowed and his hands curled into fists. "For the rest of their lives? I do not pretend Sensei is perfect, Takamaki, but this prank of yours has gone on for quite long enough. I ask you return me to the atelier at once."

Ann's hands jerked down to her sides. She took in a quick breath and swallowed. The apprentice couldn't be in the best frame of mind right now. "Look, I know this may all seem hard to believe, but this place… is Madarame's heart. This is how he views the real world. Every thing and person in it are all tools to be exploited, like paintings to be rented out."

Yusuke stomped to retrieve what appeared to be his uniform jacket and folded it over his left arm. "Sensei took me in when my mother died. Raised me for ten years in the greatest pursuit of mankind."

That anger in his eyes reminded Ann of Yuuki when she asked if anything happened in volleyball: a hatred of one's own impotence. Just the thought opened a cold pit in her stomach. Yuu-kun lied to her, knowing she knew it was a lie, but she would not let the same thing happen again. Ann's gloved fist clenched. "Fine, you want to see the truth? Come see what Madarame thinks of you." She turned off the gun-light and stormed up the ramps rising up the sides of the room to the second level. The door banged as she barged through it, the confused apprentice hot on her heels.

Storming into the inner gallery, the six portraits stretched out before them. She came to a stop next to the placard for Yusuke's portrait and turned her gun-light back on, then shined it up at the stylized painting.

Yusuke opened his mouth, then closed it. His stony lack of expression ticked her off, but she couldn't decide if that was just his mannerism, or if thwarting her was his reason for doing so. After a long moment, he confessed, "This… is Sensei's style."

Somehow, the hesitant admission only made Ann even more pissed off. She stomped to his side-hall where that painting with the tree of flaming colors, anger in every brush stroke. She pointed her pistol to make sure it was illuminated.

To his credit, Yusuke held his stoic composure, though only just. She caught the momentary widening of his eyes and flaring of his nostrils. "This… I only finished this three weeks ago. It has never been on display before. How did you get a replica of it here—?"

"It's not a knockoff," she snapped, lowering her pistol. She reached a hand out to try to encourage him. "Here, just… touch it. You'll see how two-faced Madarame is."

As one, they placed their fingertips on the frame.

Madarame's Atelier, Master Workshop

Madarame paused in the atelier's upper workshop for one last look at Yusuke's latest. His production had been slowing of late, as if his speaking alone had not been sparse enough since Hitoshi-kun's selfish act of defiance. With his own paintings coming only once a month and receiving lukewarm reviews from critics, something would have to be done. Yusuke claimed nothing was wrong, but the powerful brush strokes reminded the aged painter of sword slashes. The impotent rage cried out no matter how much he counseled the boy to detached stoicism.

He sighed and set it on the brown packaging paper, folded, and tied it. Kuraya's men would be in any minute to collect the latest addition to Madarame's burgeoning collection of masterpieces. His feelers hadn't reported any offerings for One Forest Flame yet, but the collector in London offering fifty million yen for a Sayuri would be more than enough to cover a relaxing spa trip in Sapporo with this month's mistress.

Madarame's Museum

Ann stepped back, a shiver of disgust passing through her entire body. The apprentice's heavy step back thumped despite the deep carpet. As close as she stood, she could see a trembling in his arms. His breathing came in labored gasps. She grabbed his arm to keep him from stumbling into any other memory-paintings. "Kitagawa-kun!"

He ripped his arm out of her grip and ran back to the gallery hall bearing six apprentices all in those enormous, timid portraits. He tripped and fell to all fours, his breathing labored.

"Intruder!" A Shadow van Damme bellowed from the door to the Infinite Spring, before its body collapsed into a puddle of inky black, out of which rose a trio of those watery tarts Ryuji kept ogling last time.

"Keep back, Kitagawa." Ann turned her pistol on one of the watery tarts and summoned her inner self. "Carmen!"

The sensual dancer's thorned whip lashed out, wrapping around one of the blue-skinned women and using her as a projectile to slam into the other one. Her pistol barked out against the third until it collapsed in dissolving ash. The wet woman struck by her thorn-wrapped companion shot a bolt of ice at Carmen, the bolt shattering against the dancer's lacy dress.

Ann grimaced, but she'd been punched harder by jealous girls in middle school. Carmen lifted the still-wrapped one to bludgeon the free one and slammed that same ensnared Shadow into the floor where it dissolved. The winded Shadow left danced forward to attempt a backhanded slap against Carmen, this one leaving a sharp sting on Ann. Carmen's last lash sent it stumbling back into dissolving ash. Dismissing her Persona, Ann turned back to the artist.

Yusuke had fallen and backpedaled into the wall.

His eyes only spared her pistol a moment before flitting to the spots on the floor where the Shadows dissolved, then back at her. "W-What…? What were those things? What was that?" he finished, waving a hand at where Carmen was.

"It's okay, Kitagawa-kun," she said, reaching out both hands. When he flinched back from the pistol, she lowered that hand but left the other reaching out. "That was Carmen. My inner self. And those things were Shadows. I don't really know how to explain them, Byakko would be the one to ask about that. They congregate in Palaces like this."

Yusuke turned his still wide eyes left, then right. "Takamaki-san, this is a museum."

Ann scowled. "I'm doing the best I can, okay? I'm not the Metaverse expert. This is the truth hidden inside Madarame's heart."

His dark eyes stared at the museum around them as if expecting Shadows to pop out of every, well, shadow. His hands curled. "If this is a place showing the world as he sees it, where is the Sayuri?"

Ann shifted her weight to her other foot. "I… don't know. We haven't seen it yet."

Manic laughter bubbled out of the apprentice and he held his head in one hand. He shoved himself to his feet, his very ordinary-looking black polo shirt and blue jeans clashing with his intimidating aura. "You tell me this place is Madarame's heart, and then claim there is no sign of the Sayuri in it? I did not believe a maiden like you to be possessed of madness, Takamaki-san."

Ann started to point at him before remembering that was her gun hand. She pointed with her left. "All right, first of all, call me 'Panther' here. Code names help protect us." Her raised hand wavered. "I… have no idea what to call you. I mean, you shouldn't even be here, I should be getting you out so you don't get hurt."

He crossed his arms, something vulnerable as well as adorable about his intense contemplation. "This past hour has soured me to the great masters of impressionism. If I must take on the name of another, it must be… 'Da Vinci'."

Ann held her head in her hand. "Fine. Now come on, let's get you out."

They proceeded through the gallery to the Infinite Spring, but froze before stepping out. At the lower level stood two Shadow van Dammes being berated by an even taller Shadow wearing what she'd swear some kind of old-style Japanese court robe woven out of glimmering gold. "Then call out the reserves and double the guard, you worthless buffoons! Heretics have threatened the Sayuris! Nobody must be allowed to get in!"

"Sir!" The Shadow van Dammes said along with a modern salute. One disappeared out the door to the lobby, the other began a long circuit of the enormous circular room bearing the polished gold statue. The Shadow wearing red and gold took position next to the placard, then turned to face out and just stood there.

"Shit," Ann hissed. She'd been really syncing well with Carmen lately, but taking on two Shadow van Dammes at once felt like too big a gamble. The tall, thin one dressed in something as gaudy as the museum's exterior looked sent a shiver up her spine. She glanced at the artist with his white uniform jacket clenched in one hand. "The rest of the team was supposed to be opening up the way in. If we're lucky, we can meet up with them. Say close to me and do not be seen."

She slipped through the doors back to the inner gallery. The doors to the gallery opened and a Shadow van Damme strode in with a noticeable nervousness to its steps. She yanked Yusuke into the first side hall as the Shadow guard's blood-red flashlight jerked left and right. That cone of disconcerting red shone into their side-hall—

Ann pulled the trigger twice, her first shot grazing the guard but the second shot shattering the flashlight. "Fuck yeah! Take that, you head-shotting ninety-percent accuracy bastard!"

The van Damme collapsed into a puddle of black goo in less than a second. Out of it rose one of those red-skinned fairy girls Ryuji kept ogling, something that looked like a two-meter long wolf ran over by a semi-truck, and one of those annoying onion-headed burnt chicken monsters which didn't even notice the curse energy from Akira's Persona.

"Dance, Carmen!"

Her Persona sprung out, a lash of her thorned whip loosing a bolt of ice at the leggy fairy and knocking it tumbling to the ground. A follow-up lash at the burnt chicken monster knocked it stumbling back.

The flattened wolf opened its jaws, but instead of a simple howl, it blasted a ray of sickly white energy at Carmen.

The burnt chicken monster lunged at Carmen, leaving it too close to make effective use of its thorned whip. Ann backed up her Persona and aimed her own pistol at the beast, riddling it with bullets until it fell over backwards and dissolved.

Carmen slung another bolt of ice into the standing red fairy, disintegrating it.

The reprieve was enough for the flattened canine to howl another ray of energy at Carmen, the blow hitting Ann like a spiked volleyball. The girl snarled at the Shadow and cast out a hand.

Carmen struck with a flurry of lashes from her thorned whip, leaving Ann winded, but succeeded in cutting down the remaining monster.

After several moments of hard breathing, she felt a hand take her arm and help pull her up to stand. She looked up to see Yusuke there, his eyebrows pinched together. "You… You were in pain. When those monsters hit that specter."

She forced a smile and stood away from his supportive grip. "It… It's my inner self. Don't worry about me, let's just focus on catching up to the others."

Her stride faltered, but he kept very close behind her until they came to the courtyard lit by so many lights it resembled day. With the lasers all gone, she breathed a sigh of relief. "At least that's one thing that went right today." With her breath returned and little cover, she ran across the broad courtyard for the gaping double-doors opening into a new stretch of the museum.

She almost made it to the door when a Shadow van Damme stepped out from behind the doorframe. "Thief!" Another Shadow van Damme stepped out from behind the other side of the doorway. The sound of rubber soles on the paving stones alerted Ann to the approach of yet another Shadow van Damme walking alongside one of those tall Shadows wearing the gaudy, woven-from-gold old-style Japanese clothing. More footsteps drew her attention back to the courtyard exit past the now-open wing-painted doors, where another two Shadow van Dammes flanked an approaching man in the same gold kimono as the towering Shadows, but where they all wore ceramic face masks, this man seemed human but for the gold glow of his irises. His hair was done up in what might have been intended to look like some old-style Japanese top knot, but made her think more of a swaying palm tree. White makeup caked his face, a dark red square of lipstick breaking up the white monotony.

"Ugh," Ann said. "Mom and dad would never let one of their models down the runway like that."

Beside her, Yusuke went ramrod straight, almost every muscle tensing. "S-Sensei?"

Ann looked from the apprentice to the gaudy man in gold glittering in the courtyard's bright lights. It wasn't until he called the name that she put the topography of the face here together with the humble man losing the battle to rage in that store room. "Madarame?"

The extravagant man lifted his hands. "What do you think of the magnificent Madarame's museum? As spectacular a work as the works it holds, is it not?"

Yusuke trembled beside her. "It… It can't be. Selling false Sayuris to that deputy curator…" He held his head in his hand. "Sensei was so humble. Disdained the distractions of materialism. The atelier…"

Shadow Madarame let out a belly-shaking laugh. "You've seen enough plays to know an act, Yusuke. That rusting shack? Set dressing. The public adores nothing more than an artist on the brink of death. And poverty is death. An artist of my worth has four mansions." His lips turned up in a disturbing smile. "Each one with a subservient mistress."

"But, all that about marriage being a form of death…" Yusuke said, gasping in air. "You told Nakanohara-senpai even taking a girlfriend was sacrificing a vital portion of the artist's pure soul."

Ann felt a snarl crawl across her face. "You bastard. No wonder so many of your apprentices suicided, you wouldn't even let them make friends outside your cleverly disguised sweatshop!"

Yusuke's eyes trembled, the hints of unshed tears building. "The Sayuri in that storage room. You said the real one was stolen… and why would you make copies of such a sacred treasure?"

Shadow Madarame rolled his golden eyes. "Does Kosei give you such little education in theater? There was no theft. That play was my genius, and it made the value of each Sayuri skyrocket."

Yusuke's jacket trembled in his hand. "H… How?"

Turning to the Shadow van Damme on his left, Shadow Madarame crouched and spoke in a stage whisper, "I found the real painting, but it can't go public. For a special price, it can join your private collection." He turned back to the two teenagers, the smile just a little too wide to fit a natural human face, guffawing all the while. "Everybody likes thinking they're getting preferential treatment. Art snobs couldn't throw their cash at me fast enough!"

Ann spat at him. "I knew you were drowning in vainglory before, but that's a new level of low. You cheapen art by throwing it around like some common commodity."

Shadow Madarame tisked, slipping his hands in his voluminous sleeves. "Art's value has always been subjective. You have no grounds to look down on a legitimate business transaction. Brats like you never could've come up with such a brilliant scheme!" He cackled. "Such a pity I lost such a skilled money launderer to the Phantom Thief. A good thing I never put all my eggs in his basket."

Ann's grimace twisted at her face. "Is all you think about money? And what about the hundreds of paintings you plagiarized from your students? They're the ones who should be getting the recognition for the art they toiled over."

Madarame waved her away as if her accusation were an annoying fly. "Art is nothing more than a tool for fame and wealth. Those milksops wouldn't know the first thing about negotiating the sale of art. If those paintings were left to them, they'd have been undersold at criminal rates."

Ann pointed her pistol at him. "What happened to inspiring art around the world? The Madarame Foundation? Making the next century's greatest painting?"

Shadow Madarame groaned, his eyes swiveling ceilingward again. "Success isn't about making things, you naive fool. Value doesn't exist until the sale is made!" His golden gaze fell on the apprentice. "And if you ever hope to have value, you'll continue contributing to the magnificent Madarame."

Yusuke shook his head, holding his jacket close. "How could such a man take me in?"

Laughter pealed out from Madarame and he clutched his belly. "How could I not? Children are desperate to be wanted, their empty minds hungry to be filled. All I needed was to train them like a carnival man would a monkey."

Ann's gun-hand trembled. "I thought Kamoshida was disgusting, but he was just an opportunist. You went out of your way to create suffering just so you could profit on it."

Shadow Madarame shook his head in disappointment. "Livestock are reared and slaughtered for their hides and meat. Why should it be any different for human calves?"

Ann's lips peeled back to bare her teeth. "I've heard more than enough. Carmen!"

The dancer in a dark, lacy dress coalesced, her spiked heels slamming into the pavement stones hard enough to cause cracks. Not to be outdone, the Shadow van Dammes making a square around Shadow Madarame collapsed into puddles of inky black. Out of them rose a dozen quivering, gelatinous masses.

Yusuke turned to check their retreat. A pair of human-sized paper cutouts replaced the Shadow van Damme there, flanking the Goldie standing in the middle of the doorway with its arms crossed. Yusuke bared a snarl at them. "Make way!"

"The only way to take is what the magnificent Madarame creates," its deep voice rumbled. "The only reality is the one his genius creates."

Ann's teeth ground. "Why are all you monsters so god-damn arrogant?"

Carmen twirled her thorned whip around itself, a frosty gale growing until unleashing a bolt of ice at each one of the slimes. Two froze, but the rest shook off the impact and threw themselves at her inner self.

Her Persona dodged with twirling grace, but she knew she wouldn't be able to keep this up. "Get back, Yusuke!" Ann lined up her pistol on Madarame's Shadow and pulled the trigger.

One of the slimy mounds reared up, throwing itself into the path of the bullet and disintegrating.

A wave of force threw Ann off her feet. Yusuke struck the stone edge of a planter with the crack of bone. Where Goldie had been stood a bird almost four meters tall. White plumage covered the Phoenix's body, gold feathers shining in its wings and brilliant red in its long tail-feathers. A golden twirl rose up from just behind its glaring gold eyes.

"The price of insolence is death," Madarame spat, his voice fading behind them.

Goldie growled, stretched its wings wide, then snapped a sudden flap which blasted a wave of heat over them. This time both teens braced, even as cinders danced in the scorching air.

Yusuke slipped to his knees clamping his hands over his head as he whimpered in pain.

The sight only stoked the cold fury in Ann's heart. "Show them why the blizzard is feared, Carmen!"

Her Persona danced, twirling that barbed whip above her as a swirl of frigid winds whipped around them all. The Phoenix squinted against the frosty gale and the slimes all struggled to brace against it until she let that power go in a sudden burst. Two of the slimes dissolved and another three froze in icy rime, but the rest slid back.

Carmen leaped at the enormous avian enemy, her whip slashing against its chest.

Phoenix spread its wings and opened its beak, roaring a torrent of flames at her Persona.

Ann screamed at the agony of every cell in her body lighting on fire. She crumpled and her Persona tumbled, until the stream of fire pushed it to the concrete wall.

"No!" Yusuke bellowed. "Stop this!"

The Phoenix settled back to the middle of the expansive courtyard. "There is a price for failing to bow to the world offered you by the magnificent Madarame. To reject what is given you by the very highest—"

Yusuke lifted the pistol he scooped up from the ground next to Ann's fallen body. "No man is above the truth!" Mimicking her stance, he aimed and pulled the trigger. Despite his poor posture, against a bird the size of a house, his shot struck the Phoenix in the chest.

Phoenix spread its wings wide. "You, who steal from the generosity of the magnificent Madarame, think your weak ignorance stands a chance against him?" It spat a ball of fire straight at the apprentice.

Yusuke braced behind both arms. The fire exploded with a ka-woosh, skin cracking and flesh charring. He his grip on the pistol failed as he grunted against pain threatening to overwhelm him. "So many children adored you as father…"

Condemning whispers grew in the air around them. A tremor passed through the courtyard. A booming voice declared despite the apprentice's clenched mouth, "Eyes can only look upon a deplorable imitation for so long."

Yusuke's teeth clenched and his fingers dug into his dark hair.

The lights flickered and that voice like Yusuke's but too deep rumbled again, "Have you had your fill of averting your eyes from the truth?"

The slimes bounded forward. Despite her own pain, Ann sent Carmen at them, her thorned whip lashing back and forth at the sheer mass of them. Every blow from them felt like a spiked volleyball, but if Yuuki could take it, so could she.

A crackle filled the air, a faint metallic tang growing. "This world is filled with both beauty and vice. Let us forge a contract and show them which is which!"

As her hair stood up, she watched Yusuke's pained struggles grow still. "Even though flowers of evil bloom, abominations are fated to parish."

Crackles of energy flowed between his fingers and with puff of blue flames, a white mask appeared over his face. Yusuke clutched at it and tugged, his entire face jerking. He reached higher, dug in and tore, howling as skin ripped and blood flowed.

Phoenix sucked in breath, the furnace within flickering brighter.

Blinding lightning exploded all around them. When the blinding glare cleared, scorches marred the paving stone underneath him but Yusuke stood tall. Once garbed in paint-stained T-shirt and jeans, he now wore a black jumpsuit. Something looking like a striped fox tail wrapped around his waist and dangled down behind him. A collar even higher than Akira's coat jutted up, and all sign of broken arm or charred flesh was gone. In lieu of Madarame, Yusuke howled at the Phoenix. "How many dreams did you sell for riches?"

"Perish, thief," Phoenix said before giving a single mighty beat of its wings. Its beak yawned open and flames roared out in a wide fan, gushing over the courtyard.

Yusuke dove in front of Ann and rose an arm in warding. "Goemon!"

Lightning lanced down, but the figure of the Persona was obscured by the veritable storm of flames washing over the courtyard. Yusuke ground his teeth against the pain of the flames.

The flames weren't quite loud enough to overpower the sound of a heavy motorcycle coming in from the hall behind them, charging through the flames as if they were an insignificant breeze, until Johanna stood like a wall between the Phoenix, Ann and Yusuke, the flames parting around it. The instant Phoenix's flames died down, flames sputtered over that magnificent tank of a motorcycle.

Warm motes washed over Ann, the feeling of being burned all the way to the bone vanishing.

Makoto locked eyes with the model, grim resolve in her face. "The others are on the way. Who's mister lightning?"

Ann flexed her limbs to work out the phantom sensation of charred flesh inside her body. "Yusuke. He finally gave up defending Madarame."

Phoenix beat its wings, sending another pulse of scalding wind battering the teens. "Bow down, thieves!"

Flaming wheels swirled and Johanna shot over the courtyard, swiping around to bash Phoenix's feet, but the bird spread its wings and hopped up in the air over her. Makoto whipped out her shotgun and blasted it with a pulse of shredding winds just before she wheeled past.

"Goemon!" Yusuke cried, the commands coming from instinct, just like Ann remembered when she first called out Carmen.

A Persona shaped like a man, clad in resplendent robes edged in bold blue, with bright red gathered pants stood on the tallest wood sandals she'd ever seen. Ropes binding its waist and tying down its oversized purple outer-layer looped larger than she'd ever seen on the showiest kabuki. It lifted the largest smoking pipe ever to its lips and blew, a veritable cloud pouring out of it and just hovering above everything in the courtyard for a beat.

Then lightning rained down on the Phoenix, driving it to the ground in a growl.

A wing beat drove Makoto on Johanna away and forced Ann and Yusuke to brace behind one of the stone planters. The instant the force passed, Ann popped back up. Carmen coalesced in a wink of motes of light, lashing her thorned whip at the giant monster.

Goemon slashed its pipe and the axe blade in the end of it at Phoenix's other wing.

Ryuji yelling, "Gimme a boost!" was her only warning to take cover before Captain Kidd shot out of the ostentatious hall as if from a cannon, his cutlass burying up to the hilt in Phoenix's chest.

Phoenix beat its wings, battering Kidd away in the scorching gale.

Morgana and Akira dashed out of the gold-wallpaper hallway, the team leader looking behind to the dyed blond hot on their heels. "Smash the small fry with me, Reaper. Joker, hold off that big bird until we secure the flanks."

"All who turn against the magnificent Madarame are fated to perish!" Phoenix bellowed, a red glow growing deep from inside its mouth. "Bow down!"

"Yeah, no." Akira shot a burst from his silenced sub-machine gun, then summoned what appeared to be a dog monster so long it made Ann think of an eel. After a brief glance over her, he shifted his focus to Yusuke. After a moment of intense scrutiny, Akira braced behind his gun. "Show us what you're made of."

Yusuke gave a thankful nod and turned to the enormous Phoenix playing keep-away with Johanna. "I learned much from you, Madarame. That a dispassionate eye is required to discern authenticity. That diligence is required to overcome sloppiness." No longer holding a weapon, he pointed his empty hand at the giant monster. "I will no longer be held back by your lies! Goemon!"

With a hand to his face, the theatrical Persona coalesced, and blew another cloud which lanced a heavy blast of lightning into Phoenix. The towering beast tripped and slid to the paving stones.

Morgana slotted another bolt in his crossbow. "Give it all you've got, everyone!"

As one, the Phantom Thieves descended on the Shadow, and it dissolved in a puff of smoke.

Ann turned to offer a high-five to Yusuke when he collapsed to his knees, blue flames washing over him and returning him to his humble shirt and jeans. "Kitagawa-kun!"

Akira and the track star lifted up the fading artist between them. "Well, that answers one question." His eyes stopped on Ann. "You good?"

She searched the scorched grass for her pistol. The upper cowling jutted back, leaving an empty chamber exposed. "One of you should take the front. I'm running on empty, in both senses."

Morgana nodded and led the party through the museum, avoiding what fights they could, to the skylight where Ryuji carried the artist up and out.

The Phantom Thieves collapsed against the shiny roof, just breathing for what felt like a full minute. Morgana spent the last of his energy patching up the injuries with Zorro, then let himself fall with them. After they recovered enough breath to sit up, the leader turned his cute catboy eyes on the artist, narrowed in anger. "What are you doing here? The plan—"

"Didn't survive contact with Madarame," Ann explained. "Security's up in the whole Palace, and they had some guards who gave me a really bad vibe just past that Infinite Spring thing."

Akira started breaking down his gun and stuffed the pieces in a pocket inside his longcoat. "You okay?" His grey eyes flicked to the apprentice. "What happened?"

With her joints no longer screaming, Ann brushed a pigtail off her shoulder to give herself a moment to think. "I'm fine. Turns out Madarame had some kind of contingency to call the police if anyone got inside that one room." She held up her hands, unsure quite what to do with them as the excitement of retelling the story flooded her veins. "You should've seen it. It might not have been quite as big as that loft place you stay it, but it was stacked with copies of the Sayuri."

Yusuke grunted, leaning on his left arm to lever himself off his folded white jacket. "Taka—I mean Panther-san. Who are they?"

Makoto and Ryuji, slumped next to each other against a rising side of the gold-plated building, shared a glance before they then looked to the team leader. Smirk held high, Morgana answered, sweeping his short arm through the air with all the theatricality of a Phantom Thief, "Stylish gentleman – and ladies – who seek out the most rotten of hearts and change them."

Akira peeked out over the edge of the building, then turned back to the others, one knee down and the other raised as if preparing to spring back in the skylight. Steel-grey eyes swung to hers. "How'd he get in after you?"

Ann shifted her weight to her far foot. "Had to use the Nav to escape the police."

A beat passed before his head nodded. "Okay." Grunting as he rose to his feet, Akira held out a hand. "You all right?"

Yusuke groused. "I have seen Madarame sell his most precious… no, copies of his most precious work. I have seen the hanging portraits of what he thinks of all his students. I have seen him offer away my work just hours after lecturing me on how dangerous, how impure letting my thoughts dwell on money or fame is." His dark eyes flitted to Ann, then down as shame reddened and tugged his face down. "So no, I am not all right."

Makoto slipped her shotgun off her shoulder and began disassembly. "That was why you became so angry when we brought up the plagiarism, isn't it?"

Yusuke shrugged, his gaze falling even further away. "Strange people have been coming by for years, and the plagiarism was an everyday affair. Even so… Madarame raised me since mother died when I was four, vouched for me when I needed a recommendation for a scholarship at Kosei."

Makoto knelt next to them, her red eyes peering into his. "I know all of this must hurt, but… surely leaving—"

"To where?" Yusuke looked up at her, vestigial defiance in his face even though exhaustion had claimed the rest of his body and he struggled to keep his eyes open. "And how? To leave that place would mean slandering… no, but telling the whole world that my master was an awful man." He rubbed his eyes, then looked over at the track star disassembling his rifle. "I must commend your courage in bringing real firearms to engage those monsters."

Makoto shook her head. "Oh, we couldn't afford real firearms. These are just models."

Yusuke stared at the rifle, then swung his dark gaze back at the open skylight. "But…"

Ann half-lifted a lazy hand at the track star. "If it looks real, the Metaverse treats it like it is."

Akira extended his hand further. "Listen, this has been a really trying day for all of us, but you especially need to get somewhere safe for some rest."

Ann shot to her feet. "Oh, shit!"

The others all stood, Ryuji snapping the upper and lower receiver of his rifle back together. "What?"

Ann scratched her scalp. "Madarame saw us both break into that room with all the duplicates of the Sayuri. Said he'd throw the police at both of us."

Morgana let out a breath as he looked over the team. "I'd say we've done all we can here. We managed to shut off the laser grid and open the roller doors on the outer perimeter, but without having an exact map of his Palace, we can't know exactly what's in store for us. At a minimum, we know there's an inner perimeter defending his Treasure. We'll rest and come back for it later."

Yusuke accepted Akira's hand up, folded his white jacket again, and followed the rest of the Phantom Thieves over the outer gardens to the street. After hopping off the truck, he looked down at his legs, then arms and the rest of him. "Wait a moment. Did my clothes change?"

Ryuji boggled. "They did, but they changed back, like, 'soon as that monster bird kicked the bucket. Yer just noticin' now?"

Morgana rolled his eyes. "Come on, everyone. To the real world."

"Real?" Yusuke murmured, then wavered on his feet. Ann tried to catch him, but almost fell, herself. After the longcoated teen steadied them, she followed him to a small nook between two more modern residential buildings on the same street as the ostentatious museum.

Tuesday, 28 June 2016
Early Evening
Shibuya, outside Madarame Atelier

Akira felt himself fall a couple centimeters to the ground, his feet impacting concrete sidewalk cracked but not yet broken from past earthquakes. No matter how many transitions they made between the Metaverse and real world, it always seemed to change things up on them just a little. At least the tiny nook sharing space with a concrete utility pole was a few houses away from Madarame's shack and provided them cover. The team leaned against the wood property wall, everyone's eyelids heavy… except Kitagawa, who stood street-side and looked ready to topple from his feet. Akira clapped a hand on the artist's shoulder. "You okay?"

Hollowed, dark grey eyes stared down at him. "I… feel like a gourd someone scooped out the insides from. How do all of you manage it?"

Makoto gave a small smile, betraying no trace of exhaustion despite zipping around the front all day on Johanna. "Waking up to your Persona takes a lot out of you, though something about the Metaverse is always a little tiring."

Ryuji rearranged his disassembled gun in the bottom of his school satchel to make sure it was hidden. "You gonna be good goin' back to the shack?"

"I…" A whole new form of weariness wrote over Kitagawa's face and he drew his phone, enhanced by the deep red sunlight making the slow transition to purple as evening fell. "No new messages."

Adjusting her school satchel on her shoulder, Ann scanned the apprentice. "I don't like this. He was mad, and looked straight at you when he said he'd throw the cops at us."

Ryuji stroked his chin as he scrutinized the artist. "Oh! If he's got a Persona, what'a we call him when we go in next?"

Yusuke straightened. "Da Vinci."

Akira shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me."

Ryuji's posture slumped and an eyebrow arched. "Zabinshi?"

Sighing, Morgana paced in a circle. "It's going to have to be something Reaper can say."

Akira fought to keep a smirk off his lips. "That cuts down a lot of possibilities."

"Eff you, dude," Ryuji tossed back with a roll of his eyes.

Yusuke pointed at the pacing cat. "Pardon the interruption, but are hallucinations a common side-effect of gaining a Persona? I thought your cat just talked." He looked around. "And where is that masked boy who was leading you?"

Morgana reared up with a growl. "It's me! I'm not a cat, this form is what distortion in the Metaverse did to me!"

Akira took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "He only looks like a cat in this world. He isn't actually one."

Ryuji chuckled and flashed a smirk bearing too-perfect teeth. "Tough to tell, sometimes." He re-focused on the artist and tapped a fist against his chin in thought. "Well, you got that funky mask, and that tail. Whaddabout abura-age?"

Morgana and Makoto both snorted back laughter.

Yusuke shook out his white jacket and folded it over his left arm. "If we must."

Morgana's eyes widened, aghast. "He went for something like that?"

Ann shot a frosty glare at the track star. "Not. Happening." She looked over at the transfer student and saw him fighting off a smirk. "You got any bright ideas?"

Pressing a fist against his mouth to smother chuckles, Akira tried to think of an alternative. But with those weird mannerisms? That jumping from flighty to intense? The white mask and silly pin-on tail? "Clown."

Makoto pressed the heel of her palm against her temple. "I think one Joker is more than enough. How about something simple like Fox?"

Ryuji tapped his right foot against the pavement for a moment. "Literal's as simple as ya can get. Not bad, Rider. Nice to get a good one from the brains of the outfit."

When the artist nodded, Morgana preened as if it was him who accomplished something. "Excellent. Your code name shall be 'Fox' from now on."

Ryuji stepped out to the street and stretched his arms up. "I'll go spot the shack."

Akira gave him a single, solemn nod.

Kitagawa brought up his phone's contact list and opened a line to Madarame. The other Phantom Thieves leaned close to listen in. "Sensei?"

"Yusuke?" The old man's weak voice slid out of the smart phone. "Where are you?"

Kitagawa held his phone away to stare at it a moment as if attempting to decipher an alien language. After a moment he swallowed, straightened, and said, "I believe I am still in Shibuya, Sensei."

"Yes, yes," the master artist's impatient voice clucked. "Where?"

The transfer student's phone rumbled and he brought up the chat. Ryuji sent a message, [There's fuzz inside listening on one of those fancy headsets. One of them saw me, I have to take another route.]

Akira brought up the virtual keyboard. [Smart. We'll text you if anything happens. See you at school tomorrow.] He held up the screen to make sure the other thieves saw the report.

Madarame spoke again, his tone firmer than last time. "Tell me where you are, Yusuke-kun. I'll send the driver to get you." A note of sweetness and maybe just a touch of pleading slipped into the undercurrents. "Is that gaijin with you?"

Yusuke's eyebrow arched. "It is almost night-time. Your driver has off at seventeen-hundred."

"It will be no trouble, I'll send someone to get you," Madarame said, his tone just a little too saccharine. "Just tell me where you are, and I can have someone pick you and that gaijin up."

Akira motioned his hand in a slashing movement across his throat.

Yusuke tilted his head. "Don't be ridiculous, nobody is dead."

Ann and Makoto both brought palm to face.

"Dead?" Madarame spluttered, nervous laughter following. "No, m'boy. Nobody's dead as long as you and that gaijin come right. Back. Home."

Yusuke swallowed.

Madarame's voice sputtered over the phone, distant and fragmented as if holding his end far away from his mouth. "Can't you imbeciles find one confounded phone? What's the point of hiding GPS locators in these contraptions if you can't use them?"

The sound of speech too low and distorted to make the transmission warbled.

"Idiots! Do you have any idea what it would look like to the Madarame Foundation for the police to arrest my only pupil in public?"

Akira surged forward to grab the phone out of the artist's stunned hands, cut the call and power it down.

Ann lay her hand on the artist's shoulder. "Kitagawa-kun, I'm… I'm sorry."

"No." The artist shook his head. "Deep down… I knew who he was. What he was. That was why I treated you all with such venom. You refused to accept my willful blindness." He stretched his back, took in a breath, then stepped back and sank to one knee, his back hunching until it touched his raised knee. "Forgive me—"

Akira stepped forward to take him by the arms and pull him up. "Kitagawa-san, if there's one thing life and history has taught me, it's that man should kneel to God alone. Never to his fellow man." He looked aside and caught his upperclassman staring at him. "What?"

"That was…" She uncrossed her arms and huffed to get out tension. "…surprisingly deep." She turned to Kitagawa and shifted her weight to her other foot. "What are we going to do, though? He needs to stay somewhere."

Morgana coughed to get their attention from his short stature. "Well, would you be able to board him with you, Nightrider?"

Pink tinged her cheeks. "There's enough room on the couch, but Big Sis would never allow a boy in the flat. Not without far more scrutiny than we can afford."

Akira handed Yusuke his phone back, then drew his own again and brought up the chat with the track star. [You got a spot for a night?]

Kitagawa bowed at the waist at the upperclassman. "Thank you for the thought, but I shall stay with Takamaki-san."

She jerked back. "No, you are not. Mama and Papa are still in Tokyo, so there's not even a spare bed."

Akira blushed when the first thought to pass through his head was Ryuji's likely joke of the artist not needing a separate bed to stay with Ann.

His phone buzzed and the transfer student looked down to the response from Ryuji. [Dude, I wasn't kidding when I said we don't even have room for a cat. Even if I wanted to, Mom would kill me.]

Stooping to let the team leader in his satchel, Akira sighed and stood up. "Come on. I've got a couch in the loft you can use."

Morgana poked his head out of the satchel. "Are you sure Boss would approve?"

"He'll have to," Akira said, his steel-grey eyes falling. "We all had a part to play in souring things between you and Madarame. There were a million times I wish people had given me a safe place away from the Old Bastard to go. It wouldn't be right for me to ask if I wasn't willing to give the same to people when they need it from me." He looked down at Yusuke's paint-stained shirt and jeans, and the white jacket in his hands. "I can pay for your tickets and loan you some spare clothes until you get things straightened out. Do you need any help with school?"

Kitagawa chuckled, something too dark to be mirth in it. "Actually, I left my school bag in the art studio. I frequently stay at Kosei to keep up on academic work."

Morgana let out a relieved breath. "And since we got out without any serious injuries, we have a reprieve from that doctor."

Both girls looked up at him. A droplet of sweat rolled down the back of Akira's neck and he grabbed Kitagawa's jacket to get him to run before the girls could stammer out a question. "Gotta go, bye!"

Tuesday, 28 June 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Subway to Central Station

The quiet, efficient clack of the train rumbled around them as Shibuya station fell behind. Despite the lateness of the hour, a scattering of Tokyo-ites filled most of the other seats. No conversation filled the train car, and even the artist slumped against his shoulder, snoozing. Akira's phone buzzed in his jacket and he decided there was no more use in putting it off.

The Phantom Thief chat sat waiting for him, about twenty messages from the others wondering what he had done to piss off the doctor… and if they needed to, or even could, change her heart. Akira sighed and angled his phone so the leader in his satchel could see, too. [Do you guys seriously think she's trying to extort me into testing weird concoctions like some bad movie?]

[You're right,] Ryuji sent back. [Akira's definitely the one doing the extorting.]

[I know where you sleep,] Akira riposted.

Makoto's ID blinked. [You're kind of making his point, Akira.]

Morgana shook his head. "Would you just tell them what's up? She doesn't want to see good kids hurt."

He started typing out a quick, lame excuse, but the tension around her eyes the last time he saw her stilled his fingers. Her words echoed in his mind, "Getting the chance to save Miwa doesn't mean anything if I have to sacrifice four other children to do so."

Akira sat back against the side of the train. She looked at him like Big K and Officer Ichijou did. There were traces of fear in the expression, but it made no sense for them to be scared of him. She couldn't really…

Morgana twisted in the satchel sitting in the transfer student's lap and looked him in the eye. "Tell. Them."

[Doc insists we tell her exactly how we're getting injured or she… it's unclear, but she might go to the police. Said something about not sacrificing four kids to save one.]

Three dots danced next to Ryuji's ID. [No way would she believe we go to a secret world where we have super-powers and save people's souls.]

[Pretty sure not,] Akira replied. [She mentioned Hashimoto-sensei.]

To his surprise, Makoto was the first one to respond to that. [That man is so frustrating! How do we counter an argument of rationalism when the truth is a supernatural world of cognitive distortions?]

Akira pursed his lips. [If you and Morgana can just mend whatever damage we get in the Metaverse, why would we have to go back?]

Morgana slumped in the satchel. "Geez, Joker. I thought you were smarter than that. Did you not notice how many times in Kamoshida's castle or Kaneshiro's museum you still had to seek outside help? Did you think I was intentionally sending you guys home bruised? Even Zorro's amazing healing can't patch up everything. At our best, luck is still a factor."

Akira huffed, but Hifumi told him much the same during their games in Nijubashi Square. If luck was a factor with someone of her skill, it was always going to be a concern. Looking back to the chat, Makoto had the same point as the team leader. He straightened and texted, [Short of telling her we're the Phantom Thieves, I don't see what options we have. We know she was part of Kaneshiro's drug trade, so it's not like she can afford to turn us down.]

Ann sent, [Doc doesn't seem like the kind who'd let people leave untreated. And she's still doing business, so she can clearly keep quiet a long time.]

The train trundled to a stop and Akira helped the tired artist to the JL line to Yongen. Yusuke nodded off again, and the group argued over chat about what to do with the doctor.