Persona 5: Daywatch

Sunday, 31 July 2016
Afternoon
Shibuya, Central Street, 777 Convenience

Akira tugged on the gaudy pink over-shirt part of the convenience store's uniform, then slipped out of the staff room. With Hifumi a no-show at Mass, he couldn't stop the pit in his gut. He'd just have to hope work was busy enough.

Disposing of old paperwork and expired goods took only half an hour. A mother with a rowdy pair of kids browsed the refrigerated goods section, the children hopping up and down about some soda with Risette's figure printed on it.

A young man in a summer business suit strode in with his phone pressed against his face. "I don't know, let me check with the closest business." He advanced straight to the register. "Excuse me, what is the address of this establishment?" Akira fed the convenience store's address and the business man repeated it to his phone. A low tone chattered back at him and the businessman nodded. "That's right, a striped red-and-brown tabby cat bleeding from at least two puncture wounds."

Nanami, the junior day manager and his senior at the convenience store, held a hand over her mouth. "Oh, no. Not another one."

Akira looked between them. "Another?"

The salaryman's lip curled and he shouted at his phone, "No, I didn't see him do it, but it couldn't have been anyone else! He was smiling! …Hello?" A beat passed and he hung up, then tucked it into a pocket in his suit jacket, then gave a brief bow. "Excuse me."

Nanami looked glad to have an opening to placate him. "Oh, it's fine, Takada-san. How is university going?"

The young salaryman took in a deep breath, then let it out. "Not bad for junior year. It's good to have some time from academics to catch up. I just wish I didn't keep running into signs of one of my juniors."

Akira stopped wiping the counter. "I've been hearing about injured cats being spotted in the area."

The salaryman gave a grave nod of his head. "Not just injured…" His fists clenched.

Nanami held a hand over her mouth.

Akira stopped himself from saying it was no surprise the police wouldn't do anything. Officer Ichijou was proof that statement wasn't absolute, and Makoto wanted to join them. If he wanted to help her become a cop who wasn't a bastard, not assuming every action was a self-serving lie would be a start. Or at least Hifumi would say something like that.

Ah, there was that pit in his stomach again.

The salaryman let out a harsh breath. "As you heard, without having seen Tsuboi do it first-hand, I can't make the cops do anything."

Still looking a bit pale, Nanami said in a hush, "But why would someone hurt those poor animals?"

"Stress relief," the salaryman said with a grimace. "First year in college, but he says his grandparents are putting even more pressure on him than high school. He got cited for getting into a fight with Ikeda-san – the track team captain – on campus, so now he broods and avoids people there. 'Been making this creepy smile at every cat he sees."

Akira went for his phone. "Well, if the police can't do anything, what about the Phantom Thief?"

The young salaryman shook his head. "A night sentinel taking down someone small-time like a cat abuser? I'm sure that's beneath his notice, especially with Medjed out to destroy Japan and everybody who used to support the Phantom Thief."

Nanami lowered her hands. "Maybe not. The senior night manager used to have to pay protection money to Kaneshiro's men, but the Phantom Thief changed the collector's heart even before the big boss himself."

"That so?"

Akira brought up the site. "Anybody can put in a request for help at the Phansite."

Nanami leaned in to look at his screen, then the transfer student showed the phone to the salaryman. "You think the Phantom Thief would really act on submissions to a fan site?"

Akira feigned a shrug. "Rumor has it that's how things started on the Kaneshiro clan." That wasn't technically a lie, it just wasn't quite true. "Can't succeed if you don't try." He brought his phone back and opened up a post. "What's this abuser's name?"

"Kazuo Tsuboi," the salaryman said, still looking dubious.

Akira punched in the name. "Well, there it is. Now it's up to God and the Phantom Thief. Unless he gets caught by the cops beforehand."

To his surprise, Nanami gave a firm nod. "I hope the Phantom Thief stops him soon."

Late Afternoon

Akira stacked sets of wrapped lunch sandwiches into the open refrigeration section. When his manager called, "Time!" from across the store, he finished stocking the shelf and returned to the register to get his hours printed out. Iwai and Sojiro didn't care if he stayed late helping out, but they weren't strict shift-block people and most businesses would only pay for a certain amount of time.

Once there, she handed him the printed time stub. "Are you okay? I hope that business with the cat abuser didn't put you out of sorts, Kurusu-kun."

Shaking his head, Akira swallowed down his annoyance at being addressed by his family name. "It's nothing to do with that, Nanami-san. I just missed a parishioner at Mass and I'm concerned whether she's all right."

Nanami gave a shallow smile that felt just a bit too practiced. "I hope your girlfriend is okay. There's already been so much unsettling news with the cats."

Akira's haste to deny them being anything other than fellow parishioners ended up making the denial incoherent.

From outside the window to the alley, Morgana piped up, "Well, you succeeded at identifying another Phantom Thief target, Joker! Good work."

Nanami turned and spotted the team leader. "Oh, it's a cute new alley cat! Hello, little girl."

Morgana sputtered. "I-I'm a guy! Joker, tell her!"

"He's mine," Akira said. "Must've tracked me down, I don't bring him to Mass."

She gave a polite show smile. "Oh, that's why you always show up for work so well-dressed." Her head tilted a bit. "I've never hired a Catholic to work on Sunday. Isn't there something reserved about that?"

Akira forced a small, polite smile of his own. "Jesus asked the Pharisees, 'Is Man made for the Sabbath, or the Sabbath for Man?' I figure as long as I'm mindful and use my time wisely, He won't mind putting food on the table." He bowed to excuse himself, changed back into his Sunday suit, then stepped out to pick up Morgana.

Sunday, 31 July 2016
Early Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Akira shook out his next shirt, then slipped it onto a hangar and set it in his rolling closet. With the addition of the air conditioner from Junes, the room felt comfortable – almost cool – when he stood right in front of the unit. He headed back to the basket of clean laundry remaining when Alliance Force, Assemble! sang out of his phone. To his disappointment, it was Ryuji instead of Hifumi. "Cal Seeium's health and wellness clinic."

"Careful, dude," Ryuji tossed back. "That doc chick might get mad you're steppin' in on her turf."

Akira let out a disappointed breath. Almost nobody ever had a clever riposte to his joke greetings. "What's up, Speedy?"

The track star let out a mirthful chuckle. "Well, we're goin' back into the pyramid tomorrow. I bet you 'been readin' books an' borin' shit all the time. We gotta hit the gym. I mean, Mona's all on about how workin' in real life's good for our Personas an' shit."

Akira set speakerphone on, put his phone down on the bed, picked up another shirt and snapped it in the air to straighten it before sliding it on a hangar. "Morgana was probably talking more about flexing the mind. It's not like I'm avoiding mental workouts." That glum feeling of debilitating gravity pulled down at him as he wondered what Hifumi was doing. "And have you seen how many hoops some gyms have for getting out of their sky-high monthly fees?"

"So we don't go to one o' them money suckers," Ryuji riposted. "There's a no-nonsense place down in Shibuya. It's a bit of a trip for me on break, but it's right in your neck o' the woods."

Morgana stood and began stretching. "Might be good for you. I'll keep an eye on things here."

Akira considered. It would be nice to have some proper resistance exercise. "I've got five minutes longer of laundry and a ten minute train ride, assuming the subways aren't as busy as during school."

Sunday, 31 July 2016
Early Evening
Shibuya, Central Street

The roar of the city coiled around Akira as sure as a constrictor snake about a capybara. He rubbed his opposite arm as they paced past the street-side coin lockers in this alley branching off the market road. Some guy in grungy garb hawked jewelry from a folding case just in from the market lane.

Ryuji kept going to the multi-business entrance on the left. "Here it is."

"Protein Lovers," Akira read the sign. Beside the business name, a cartoony masculine figure thrust his chest out. "You sure about this place?"

Ryuji waved off his concern as they ascended the stairs. "Don' worry 'bout it. Sure, it's smaller but it's got a ton of dif'rent machines. An' no bullshit contracts, you jus' pay whenever you come in." It looked large and extensive for a gym which wasn't built to be a multipurpose meeting place. "Ain't got a pool or hot tub, but they got showers right next to the bathrooms," the runner pointed past the lobby desk.

"Pretty cheap for a pay-as-you-go gym," Akira said, pulling out his wallet. When the clerk's eyes remained glued to a years-old portable TV playing news about Medjed, the transfer student cleared his throat. "Just two hours, today. It's a bit late for the all-day."

"Of course, sir," the attendant said, taking the two boys' payment before returning her focus to the day's dire prognosis about the stock market.

They headed into the gym, but the transfer student' hadn't even picked out which machine to start on before a college-aged guy in an orange shirt heading out strolled up to the track star. "Sakamoto?"

"Gevnin', Ikeda-senpai!" Ryuji threw back with a grin.

The apparent Ikeda laughed. "Geez, Sakamoto, has your vocabulary gotten even worse?" He gave the track star a playful punch.

Ryuji returned it. "I know plenty o' words."

Akira decided he'd step into this conversation instead of wander off on his own. Without having ever had somebody – either mentor or patient – to practice physical therapy on, he realized he couldn't decide where to start his own routine. "I'm Akira. Current classmate." He gave the momentary point of his chin at the track star. "I assume you were an old classmate?"

Ikeda gave a smaller smile to the track star. "Not just classmate. We were both in track."

Akira felt himself full-body flinch. Just the allusion to Kamoshida brought out memories of the pervert's castle, as well as the image of Shiho plunging to the courtyard.

Ikeda's smile disappeared. "You know him too?" He shook his head. "Sorry, I did hear a little about the confession. If you go there, chances are you'd run across Kamoshida."

"Tch." Ryuji growled, kicking the slip-on shoe at the painted gym floor. "More'n just a run-in. That bastard gunned for him like he gunned for me." He pulled his hands out of his pockets, forcing himself to stand straighter and give an insincere grin. "But we're here now, an' that effin' loser's in prison where he belongs."

Akira felt a haunting sensation stiffen his face, but shoved back at the memories of Kamoshida and dreams of a screaming Shiho with all his cognitive might. He forced himself to shrug and brandished a hollow smirk. "The past's past. Water under the bridge. He doesn't deserve to live rent-free in my head."

If only that was the truth.

Ikeda gave a firm, proud nod. "Clearly you two have come out better people after him." A glassy quality touched his eyes. "I wish I could say that for everyone." His brown gaze dropped and he turned to the track star, but stopped just short of his face. "Hell, we should've all piled on when he broke your leg. We're… no, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you like you deserved."

Ryuji shook his head and waved his arms with the fervent energy only he could provide. "Dude, quit it! I'm still up, an' I'm even gettin' back inta runnin'." He puffed out his chest, a few signs of false bravado leaking out to the transfer student. "'sides, you had two younger siblings to think about. You needed that letter of recommendation."

A tense silence passed.

Ryuji stood straight, his eyes on his senior. "How'd they get you to clam up, Senpai? I thought your dad was in the stock market an' stuff."

Ikeda shifted his weight to his other foot. "Shujin took mom and dad to court. Threatened to expel me and sue for defamation if I so much as made a post on social media."

Akira gave a firm nod. "If Ryuji doesn't hold what happened against you, then you couldn't have been responsible. Kamoshida screwed you both."

Ikeda's eyes dropped for a moment, but he huffed and looked up with a shallow grin. "You're a good guy, Akira-san." He began to throw a playful punch at the track star's arm, but spotted the bruise remaining from the staff-weapon shot days ago. He let his arm fall. "I thought business management would be the safest degree I could get after Shujin, but with all the talk about Medjed, I'm kinda worried if we'll even have a stock market to trade over by the time I graduate. Dad had over a million yen invested in the Nikkei 225 and he couldn't even get coffee money from his stocks right now."

Ryuji gave a sympathetic nod. "Sucks, man. But nothin' ever stopped the Phantom Thief before. Just you wait, we—he's jus' waitin' to make an even bigger splash with a come-from-behind victory over those shitty wannabes who think they can hold all of Japan hostage." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "So whaddya doin' now, Cap'n?"

A beat passed before Ikeda gave a sad smile, then shook his head. That smile still didn't touch the once-Shujin runner's eyes, but he seemed less tense than before. "Well, besides the business degree… You'd think all that nonsense would've sworn me off running, but…" He allowed himself a shy smile. "I'm back, on the uni's track team."

Ryuji's grin let a glimpse of perfect teeth. "For real? Awesome, dude!" He threw a quick punch he might have intended to be playful, but still drove the wind from the college guy's lungs.

The levity to the track star's response perked up Ikeda. "Well, what about you? How's the leg, Sakamoto?"

Despite himself, Ryuji's grin faded and he had to push it back out. "I ain't quite where I was, but ain't nothin' gonna stop this runner."

Ikeda gave a full smile this time. "I'm glad. Some of us just wanted letters or extracurricular credit, but running's in your blood, Sakamoto."

As Akira looked in on the two, an idea began germinating in his brain. Ryuji did love running, and it seemed good for this Ikeda guy. Maybe, once the semester started again, there was something he could do.

"Well," Ikeda said, his smile fading a bit, "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a paper that isn't going to write itself. See you guys."

As the college kid departed, Akira elbowed the track star. "So, Speedy. Which machine should we start on?"

Monday, 1 August 2016
Late Afternoon
Futaba's Ha'tak, Death Glider Hangar

Catwalks stretched across the cavernous hangar plunging deep into the middle of the enormous mothership. Multiple rows of Death Gliders locked into docking cradles set against the walkways, jutting up enough to crouch behind. Zorro's psychokinetic toss threw one of the Shadow Jaffa off the walkway and plunging down into the darkness of repeating rows of death gliders beneath them. A golden bolt of plasma blazed between the down-folded wings of the crescent-shaped fighters in the rows above them, striking his Orthrus on the catwalk ahead.

Both heads of the warhorse-sized dog roared with Akira in pain, then turned and spat bolts of fire at the cognition of First Prime Sojiro on a different catwalk quite a run away.

Despite the best efforts of the rest of the Thieves fighting the other Shadows, the gold-armored Sojiro took the brunt of the fire bolts and held his footing. He closed up his staff weapon and pounded the butt end into the ground. An echo like wood resonated on the metal catwalks and the cognition bellowed, "Company, advance!"

"Fucking damn it!" Ryuji shouted from the left side of the catwalks where he and Makoto were trying to advance on the Shadow Jaffa's flanks up one of the narrow connecting walkways. A slew of fresh Shadow Jaffa burst into being on the catwalks close to the cognition, leveled their staff weapons, then let loose a volley of plasma fire against the main group of Thieves trying to advance through the last of the previous wave's unshackled Shadows.

Akira almost knocked heads with Ann as he dove for the cover behind one of the docked Death Gliders.

A single shot cracked through the air and a Shadow Jaffa's avian-masked head snapped back before it dissolved like smoke on the wind.

Ann glanced over her shoulder at the artist braced on top of one of the docked Death Gliders behind them. "Thanks, Fox!"

With just enough space between the volleys of the full Shadow Jaffa squad to breathe, Akira dismissed Orthrus and summoned the most resistant Persona he had against the incoming nuclear energy. "Ananta Shesha!"

The next volley started and he grit his teeth against the pain, as the dozen cognitive-wrapped Shadows reminded him 'resistant' did not mean 'immune'.

Carmen slashed her thorned whip through a naga, destroying it, then spun around to unleash a quick, icy burst against the remainder of the previous wave of Shadows and destroy them as well.

The next volley began peppering his celestial serpent Persona with plasma bolts when a long burst of automatic fire tore into them from the side. Spared the light machine gun's rounds, one Shadow Jaffa turned to shoot the track star.

Makoto shot it in the chest with her shotgun, blasting it into fading smoke, then let her wide-choke shotgun pelt the first four available Shadow Jaffa. All four dropped their staff weapons – which disintegrated – and swelled into black pustules. While it didn't resemble the Anubis from the last season he saw of Stargate SG-1, Akira was almost relieved to see just one of the Egyptian gods of judgment pop out.

A crossbow bolt sailed into the eye of one of the owl-sorcerers, disintegrating that one and giving Akira enough time to roar. In time with his cry, Ananta Shesha howled a sound like distant song, and rays of nuclear fire raked over the Shadow Jaffa.

Three swelled into black pustules, but the beam which drew over cognitive Sojiro only made him flinch. Another wave of ice shards slammed over the gathered Shadow Jaffa surrounding the gold-armored Sojiro. He grunted in pain, but snapped up his staff weapon and shot at Carmen.

Akira threw Ananta Shesha in the way and the Thieves threw themselves against the freshest wave of unchained Shadows.

Ryuji let up his automatic weapon fire to send a shredding gale over the Shadows. He shouted over the space now between him and the longcoated boy, "How do we take down a guy who resists every fuckin' thing we throw at him?"

A flaming pink aura spread over one of the incarnations of Thoth, throwing the learned baboon into the gold-armored First Prime. Morgana shouted from the cradles of Death Gliders above, "This cognition is special, he's tied into the Palace itself! Futaba must believe nothing physical can hurt him! But she believes in their weapons. Rider, see if you can get close enough to disarm him and use his own staff against him!"

The Thieves whittled down the half-dozen remaining Shadows, only for First Prime Sojiro to conjure a seventh wave. Or was it eighth?

Akira shook his head and shot down an enormous, jeweled bird using wind magic against the Thieves. Headache starting to pound inside his skull, he started using his P90 more despite being on his last magazine.

After what felt like an hour of slogging through more Shadows, First Prime Sojiro closed his Staff weapon and whipped it around to bring it crashing against the broad catwalks.

Makoto, edging closer the whole fight, slid in. She let out a brief cry of pain when the staff weapon thudded against her boot, but no resonance rang out and no new Shadow Jaffa appeared.

"Everyone!" Morgana shouted, "Support Rider!"

Akira stood, a second wind now that the end was in sight. He dismissed Inugami to bring out some of the Shadows' own medicine against them. "Osiris!" The murdered god of the Nile coalesced and held his shepherd's crook aloft. A flame-like aura formed around Makoto, hardened, turning opaque for a brief moment before it wrapped tight around her and faded from view. Goemon blew a fog over her and her speed doubled, going from an even match against the powerhouse of First Prime Sojiro to whirling around him, slipping into gaps in his guard despite his two-meter staff weapon.

"I can't hit hard enough to get through his armor!" she shouted, keeping up her gauntleted assault anyway.

Akira cupped one hand around his mouth. "Aim for the chain-mail gaps between plates!"

Ryuji, dripping with sweat, gripped the thin railing to pull himself up. "Le'see if this works. Captain Kidd!"

The skeletal pirate pointed his arm-cannon right at Makoto and let loose a pulse of hurricane-force winds. They raced at her, wrapping around to double her movements with clumsy but effective pulses. At last, her blows drove gasps of pain from First Prime Sojiro… until his weapon, whipping around him with the skill and speed of a bo staff, cracked against her shin and drove her feet out from under her.

Sojiro snapped open the discharge pod and brought it around to shoot her in the heart.

Akira flipped his firing selector to full auto and pulled the trigger.

Sojiro flicked his head and the golden hawk helm re-formed. The P90's roaring assault sparked against the gold armored helm.

It was just enough for Makoto to grasp the staff-weapon below the discharge pod. She lashed out a kick into the gap beside the First Prime's codpiece.

A groan pitched higher than Akira had ever heard from the real man drifted from the armored form.

Scooting herself back as much as one leg kick could, Makoto flipped the staff weapon around and shot the cognition in the gold-plated chest.

A blackened hole formed, and Sojiro stumbled back.

Ryuji huffed through his heavy breathing, "He still ain't down?"

Makoto squeezed the staff weapon's trigger again, blasting another bolt in the First Prime's upper chest. Then another in his plated arm, plated stomach, and a third shot into the upper chestplate. Each time, he stumbled back but remained on his feet.

She twirled up to her knees and aimed at his head, unleashing a bolt of plasma into the hawk helm.

The helmet blasted into heat-sheared chunks, exposing the old cognition's real head as he fell against the guard rail behind him. He slumped to the catwalk with a metallic clank. First Prime Sojiro coughed, one arm clutching his chest. "You… fools. I only want to protect my god."

Akira advanced, gun up for what little good the handful of remaining bullets might do. "Futaba isn't a god. She's a girl. And she's suffocating, alone. She needs to be able to go into the world or she'll die like a plant starved of sunlight."

"They'll…" Coughs tore through his protest. "They'll kill her. Everyone out there will hurt her. The world is a terrifying, dangerous place. She'll never survive if she's exposed."

Morgana hopped out, his crossbow empty but the bayonet fixed out. "That's not true! The whole world isn't dangerous. She knew she could reach out to the Phantom Thieves and we'd save her. You can't protect her from everything forever, but we can help. And when she's strong enough, she'll be able to protect herself."

Sojiro hacked and coughed. "Nobody else can do it. Haven't you seen her own mother? Like the gods, Futaba and Wakaba betrayed each other."

Yusuke advanced, rifle aimed at the cognition's head. "Madarame attempted to cultivate dependency in his students, but even his instruction still nurtured art. The world may be much the same in its rain, but even in it are nutrients the forest needs to grow. Futaba will weather the storm and bloom all the stronger, just as the rest of us have."

"Effin' right!" Ryuji added.

First Prime Sojiro coughed. "Maybe…" He coughed once more, then dropped slack and burst into black ribbons, avoiding the Thieves but streaming out in all other directions and soaking into the walls.

Morgana stared, his eyes as big as the others'. "That was new."

Makoto tossed the staff weapon off the edge of the catwalk. "I suppose we should get to that computer memory center." The other thieves murmured wordless agreement and they filed out.

Wednesday, 6 August 2014
Afternoon
Shinjou, Isshiki Household

A small but clean apartment resolved, dark wood floors and white painted walls. Black-and-white pictures of Carl Jung and Beatrice Whiting hung on one wall, the other opening to a modest dining room. A little girl's voice called out with a loud sing-song as she stepped through the doorway, "Mo-o-om! Let's go out to eat."

Director Isshiki glanced up from binders of paper, a fountain pen on one hand. Her straight, black hair jostled and her sleek black shirt seemed to swallow the light coming in from the window looking out over a brick factory. "I'm behind schedule, Futaba. Houzan didn't submit his data correctly." She turned a page. "And I think he's using his son for brain-imaging again." She scoffed and turned another page. "It's like he doesn't understand the necessity of a representative control group. I don't care where he worked at, he's not working for the Kirijos anymore."

A little Futaba paced closer, reaching for Isshiki Wakaba's long, black sleeve. "Mom…"

Wakaba tugged her arm out of the girl's weak grip, made a couple marks, then turned another page. "Not now, Futaba. I need to have this corrected before next week's imaging or he'll waste another three hundred thousand yen on imaging that I won't even be able to use." She gestured her hand at another doorway. "Go get a bento from the fridge if you're hungry."

The girl threw her hands down at her sides. "I've been eating convenience store bentos all month, Mom!" She stomped a foot, brushed her long, black hair out of her eyes, then reached out to snag Wakaba's sleeve again. "I wanna go on a trip!"

The pen dragged over one of the cross-sectional brain activity scans. "Dammit, girl! Look what you've done! I slave over this damn data to put food on the table and keep that unethical hack back. You're only thinking of yourself!"

Futaba shrank back, her eyes welling up.

Monday, 1 August 2016
Late Afternoon
Futaba's Ha'tak

The holographic screen cut to black for a moment. Akira gnashed his teeth. "No. That wasn't it. I know there was more!" He tapped away at the keyboard to bring up the memory and all associated fragments. Millions of results of 'fear', 'doubt', and 'self-loathing' appeared, but none of them were the continuation.

Makoto adjusted her tense grip on her shotgun. "She seemed pretty angry for her daughter just wanting to eat or go out."

Ann rubbed her arm. "But it all looked so normal and everyday. It even looked like she was madder at that co-worker."

"Still blows for Futaba," Ryuji said, his hands clutching his machine gun. "Ma had to get a new job after leavin' the old man, but she still came home every night an' was there."

The holographic screen cut from his search to another computer center. Second Prime Youji sat there, flanked by the usual plate-armored Jaffa in silver bird-helms. His disappointed disdain gave stark contrast to the feigned cheer of the real one. "Thieves and criminals. Have you not meddled enough with forces beyond your comprehension?"

Akira swatted with a hand. To his surprise, the screen shrank Youji to the upper-right quarter of the screen, returning the rest of the display to his earlier search for the rest of the memory. "All evil needs to thrive is for good men to do nothing."

Youji slammed a fist against his stone desk. "You believe you are fit to judge what you deny to the gods?"

"Silence in the face of a lie is complicity in its spread." Akira tapped away. "I think I've got something, guys. Hold off the Shadows."

Ann blinked under her feline mask. "Why?"

Prime Youji snarled. "Because my troops are coming to kill you!"

Ryuji turned on the door just in time to catch a pair of Shadow Jaffa. His bullets chopped one down, but the other Thieves had to summon their Personas to finish off the Sandman who popped out of the other.

Morgana hopped to the stone desk. "Joker, what's so important about that memory?

Akira scrutinized the web of a memory search system. Why did everything have to have so many tags? "It's proof she knows the setup was a sham! If we can convince her she was fooled and her mother loved her, we might not even need to steal her Treasure."

"With that master control crystal," Yusuke said, "the doors have not been able to stop us. Avoiding a grand battle with Sakura's Shadow sounds good. But would it hold?"

The doors snapped open and another two Shadow Jaffa barged in. The other Thieves struck first.

"Why the hell can't any of this be in alphabetical order?" Akira snapped at the computer.

The lower-right corner started displaying memories as Akira flipped through them. Being yelled at in gym for not wanting to run with the others. A brown-haired girl sitting next to her for a companionable silence at lunch. Clutching a stuffed Junes bear as thunder pealed outside. Director Isshiki reaching out to pat her head. Her classmates laughing at her.

Wait.

The computer center doors snapped open, and the Thieves attacked the next pair of Shadows.

Akira hit the memory.

The whole holographic screen blinked black. Then the dining room faded in again. Wakaba snapped, "You're only thinking of yourself!"

Futaba shrank back, her eyes welling up.

A tense second passed before Wakaba reached down and pressed her hand on Futaba's head and ruffling the little girl's black hair. "I'm sorry, Futaba. Get yourself some celery, and I'll call out for Chinese."

The screen faded to black, and even Prime Youji winked out. A beat passed, then a view of the pyramid ship's command center appeared, vacant any Jaffa. Shadow Futaba sat on her golden throne, golden eyes blazing like the best Goa'uld villains. She spoke with the expected System Lord echo-y voice, "You are quite the persistent thieves."

Morgana hopped up on the stone desk. "And we'll steal your Treasure."

The gold glisten of Shadow Futaba's eyes faded, and she spoke in a normal girl's voice, "Do you believe you truly can save what has been marked for death?"

Ann turned to the screen. "We're not giving up until we've saved Futaba-chan's heart!"

Shadow Futaba gave a smile, something hesitant and tense about it. Again, she spoke in a normal girl's voice, "You do not come to plunder a System Lord's riches?"

Akira stared at the scene, trying to figure out what the game was. Goa'uld were genetically evil, and System Lords were ambitious and powerful. Even though this was technically Futaba's Shadow, it all looked based straight on the show. Why the humility? Dropping the intimidating echo-y voice?

Ryuji glanced over his shoulder, keeping his gun trained on the door. "Whaddya all hesitatin' for? We're here to steal her Treasure." He turned a bit more to look at Futaba's Shadow on the shallow holographic projection. "You wanna help? Where is it?"

Shadow Futaba stretched out her arms. "Look upon my domain. Free Jaffa conspire within my ranks. The Tau'ri call their battleships. Prime Isshiki would turn his staff weapon upon me himself if he knew." Her breath caught in her throat.

A blip of a picture-in-picture opened, and a man in a suit jabbed at the camera. "It's your fault she's dead!"

A new image of a pack of middle-school girls in the class hall crowded around, chanting, "Creepy Computer Girl! Creepy Computer Girl!"

"Murderer!"

"You killed her!"

Akira pulled the search back up, found the moment he knew was there, and hit play.

The in-picture snapped to a filthy room strewn with trash, dirty clothes, and books. His voice called through the door, thicker with emotion than he remembered, "At first, I wanted to try again when I first woke up—" He fast-forwarded over his confession. "And if someone can find an Akira worth saving, there's sure as hell a Futaba worth saving."

Shadow Futaba's voice cracked, "I-I don't wanna die!"

"Oh, my God. The suppressed self!" Tears glinting at the corners of her eyes, Ann's Zat gun fell from her fingers. "That means the real Futaba wants to die!" She whirled on the team leader, fists clenched and a tremble in her arms. "We have to keep going! We've gotta save Shiho!"

The artist's hand gripped her shoulder, and held when she spun on him. "Panther, we're fighting to save Sakura Futaba."

Ann blinked, her breathing still a bit fast when she answered, "Th-that's what I meant!"

Yusuke's hand gripped her leather-clad form tight. "We have made it through several barriers and a major guardian, but we are spent. We must trust in Sakura-san's strength for at least another day, or one of us will die. Her heart will remain unchanged no matter what we do today, but charging ahead will likely lead to our being overwhelmed. I do not want you to have to live with that." He slipped his rifle to his shoulder on its strap and took her other shoulder with his freed hand.

Morgana folded his crossbow. "Fox is right. We've made significant progress. Let's get out and rest so we can make it meaningful, maybe even secure the infiltration route next time."

Monday, 1 August 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

Akira slid up his lancer. Despite the wearying effects of fighting in the Metaverse and scrubbing in the bath house, he felt his mind spin in his head like a hamster's wheel and couldn't sit still to enjoy the bath. A fresh change of clothes helped the inexplicable prickly sensation, but when Hifumi didn't respond to text messages, the team leader agreed to give a game of shogi. Akira picked up his phone to check the messenger.

No new updates from Hifumi.

Does the sinner deserve to taint the pure?

Knot in his gut twisting, and Akira bit his lip and put his phone down. She was too good for him. At least the air conditioner helped him bring his mind back to the game and push his frustration back down. The spinning sensation in his brain loosened his tongue. "Being able to steal Personas from the sea of souls ebbing into the palaces feels weird. Do you remember waking to your Persona?"

Morgana's ears curled back and the tip of his tail twitched. "I… I don't remember not having a Persona. The Metaverse twisting me into this cat body must have been what forced me to awaken." He moved up a pawn, then backed up and sat down. "Still just as suave a gentleman as your incredible leader was when I was a human, I'm sure. It just comes naturally." His ears twisted against his head. "We've been very fortunate so far, distortion in the heart to some degree is extremely common. The distortion of a Palace can pressure the fractures in our own psyche, and with so many loose fragments of human emotion right there, that could lead to the sudden unleashing of a very powerful Shadow which would try to kill the conscious half. Lady Ann told us Fox's torture was the pursuit of truth and beauty. Nightrider, trying to live up to dozens of stereotypes and never living for herself. We should be glad she came to grips with herself or she would have continued to feed the Shadows around us."

Akira halted, midway through moving up a pawn. "Wait, are you saying she made the Shadows around us stronger?"

Morgana blinked. "I explained this. Your Phantom Thief forms are cognitive armors which insulate you from the wild wills in the Metaverse. Any emotional resonance within us – from fear to love – would resonate with the fragments outside of us as well. It's one reason why the Shadows found you guys when you brought Reaper into Kamoshida's dungeons." One ear twisted sideways as he scrutinized the transfer student. "There's something really special about you. You can draw in and use purified fragments of the collective subconscious."

Akira slid up a knight. That clenching inside didn't feel like 'special'. The world kicked him while he was down for his entire life and he never heard any voice inside. Even now he struggled to keep the worry over Futaba or Hifumi at bay. "I'm just lucky."

Morgana moved up a pawn to capture one of his opponent's. "How did Lady Ann awaken? That happened before I found you."

A glower crawled over Akira's face. "Kamoshida cuffed her to that bed and started cutting her clothes off." If he had his weapons back then, he'd have killed the bastard for sure. Akira closed his eyes and forced himself to take a breath in and out. "She's confident and beautiful, but wanted to be on her own terms instead of being reduced to somebody else's sex object." He slid up a knight, a subtle tremble from one of the worst days in his life. He'd never told Ann, but that was the most scared he'd ever been for another person. "If she hadn't bust a Persona out right then… I don't know what would've been worse. Dying knowing she was about to be defiled, or seeing it happen before they got me."

Morgana captured his lancer, and the transfer student picked up his piece and set it on the team leader's side to help. "How did you wake to your Persona? Or did you collect it like the others?"

Akira slid his lance up to capture a pawn. That gave him an excuse to break eye contact with the team leader, even if he could close his eyes and see the whole board in his mind. "I wanted to avenge Shiho. To hurt Kamoshida."

Morgana found a way to make his dubious gaze obvious despite the feline face. "Don't try to make it like something so simple or selfish. Whatever you felt for Shiho, you stayed well away instead of stealing her from our infobroker. Even before we celebrated Kamoshida's change of heart, you were on the road to changing Kaneshiro's heart."

How shamed would your queen feel to know she is the rebound of a cast-off?

Gut twisting so tight he feared he'd throw up, Akira reached for his phone to send an apology. Then cowardice put it down and he stared down at the board, even though he knew he had five or six routes to victory.

"Joker," Morgana snapped in that command tone of voice. "You're not a bad person. Just look at how hard you work to get along with Nightrider. You two were practically throwing knives at each other. Now you're exchanging personal family stories."

The memory of coming home to hear his mother fucking some dude from a party snapped to mind right before the image of a naked Hifumi standing on a scallop shell. Akira took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I didn't exactly want her to see what kind of person my mother was." He added at a low whisper, "Or figure out what kind of person I am."

Morgana sighed. "This isn't helping you wind down like I thought. Get your exercise or whatever in and get to bed. There's something I want to check at the Palace tomorrow."

Glad to have something else to put his mind to, Akira settled his glasses back on his face. "Which Palace?"

"Sakura's." Morgana hopped down and paced to the bookshelf where the pillow serving as his cat bed lay. "We need to talk to the cognitive Wakaba and find out what she represents for Futaba. We changed the balance in her psyche by taking down her cognition of Boss. If I'm right, we might not have time to wait for her alert level to drop tomorrow."

Akira gave an assenting, "Hm…" and bowed before the image of the Virgin Mary for his last prayers of the night.

AN: Wanting to live is a pretty fundamental human drive, but in conditions of suffering, death can start looking like a good escape. Hence why all these years later, Persona 3 still has the draw as humanity struggles with nihilism.