04/25
Morning
Gekkoukan
16 days until the Full Moon ~ 1 day until the New Moon
Tapping his foot to the beat of the music in his ears, Makoto bobs his head as he completes a worksheet for the class. It's a work period, so there are no issues with how he gets his work done.
But his mind keeps wandering, which is the exact opposite of what putting on his headphones is supposed to do.
'So dance, if you wanna, go ahead. Free to do whatever, I'm chilling on my bed—'
The chorus repeats. The song is a beat he found online, a small instrumental someone put together, which he ripped from the site. Sure, it's illegal, but how are the cops going to arrest some Japanese kid for pirating music?
Ugh. The music just isn't hitting the same as usual.
It's been about a week since Aigis sacrificed herself for him. Makoto's gone out nightly in hopes that he'll find her. Or, at the very least, her body. Looking to his right, he catches Akihiko scribbling his paper, sticking his tongue out as he works hard to finish the work before class ends. Knowing him, it's because he wants to hit the gym.
Thanks to Akihiko, they've almost mapped the first ten floors of Asphodel in less than a week. Makoto would never admit it outside of his mind, but the meathead has been an enormous help in keeping his head on straight.
However, they still haven't found anything even resembling Aigis. It dwells in Makoto's chest as he waits for the Dark Hour to fall so he can return to his nightly dance.
Urgh—Makoto doesn't dance. That's for nerds.
Asphodel is similar to Tartarus—at least, that's what Akihiko says. Makoto still hasn't been able to enter the Tower of Demise. Still, he sees it on the skyline nightly, standing like a kaiju over the city skyscrapers with its twisty and non-euclidian architecture. Akihiko mentioned that Asphodel has fewer floors, but it's much more dangerous than the ones Kotone and the Kouhai have traversed. The icy boy doesn't know if that makes him happy or not, however.
Shaking his head, he looks away from the boxer and tries to focus more on his worksheet. His music hits a crescendo, and he sighs. Usually, he bounces to the beat and silently drums out the solo that follows this exquisite part of the song, but he can't.
His mind is on Aigis, still, for God's sake.
Why is he so upset? Makoto had only known Aigis for a night and didn't like her much. To him, she was equipment, a machine designed to make his job easier and yet…
She gave her life for him. Even if it was a programmed response, something an engineer put into her head to perform whenever a member of SEES was at risk, she still did it.
And Makoto doesn't know what to do.
Experiencing death isn't something new to him. Hell, it's one of his earliest memories. Makoto thought nothing could phase him, that there was nothing inside him.
Why does the possible death of a robot bother him so much?
"Yuki," Makoto hears Mitsuru's voice pierce through the baseline and drums in his ears. He looks up, removing a single headphone. His music is now audible to those around him. The president stares at him from her seat, the sheet before her immaculately done and her pencil placed perpendicular to the paper. Her eyebrows scrunch together like a crimson caterpillar. "Can we talk after class?"
"Busy," Makoto replies instantly, his instinct overriding any curiosity about her desire to speak. He wants to go to Kenneth Arnold and check on the girl running the register. It's become a routine at this point.
"I'm afraid I have to insist," To her credit, she does look apologetic toward using her position to pressure him. "I promise it won't be long."
"Then you're coming with me," Makoto grimaces before staring back at her. "Can't miss this."
"I'm sure she's okay." Akihiko chimes in, his usual confidence masking any concern. The worksheet is left unfinished atop his desk while he leans conspiratorially toward Makoto and the turned-around Mitsuru. "Maybe~ I'll come too!"
"Finish that assignment, Sanada," Makoto glances down at it, covered in eraser smudges.
"Erk!"
"Hmm," Mitsuru leans closer and scrutinizes Akihiko's scribbles. "Indeed. Focus on your studies, Akihiko. Then we can continue with outside-curricular activities."
"Damn!" The boy pounds his uninjured fist into the table, looking like a wounded warrior. "If only I could train my brain how I can train my body!"
Makoto will let him have that one and later remind him that there are plenty of ways to train that muscle.
—
Afternoon
Makoto quickly jaunts down the stairs to the first floor from his class on the third. Mister Edogawa had him drop off some papers at the faculty office since he was next in line for classroom duty because the kid who usually does it was sick.
Meh. Getting out of class and stretching his legs is nothing to complain about. Makoto doesn't mind that much.
He strides past the practice hall, reaching the corridor leading to a strange tree and the gymnasium.
"Ugh, you wouldn't be so annoying if you'd do as I say," a girl with an annoying twang sharply barks. "Just do my homework!"
"N-Natsuki-chan, you're hurting me!" Another girl with a softer whimper.
Oh. Bullying? Seriously?
Makoto steps closer to the door, his eyebrows furrowing invisibly.
"Ah!" He hears someone lose their balance and the sound of many books falling to the ground.
Makoto pushes the door open, leaving the boxes in his hands on the floor as he steps outside. Immediately, he spies two girls looming over a much smaller one that has fallen to the concrete. The two girls—one with bright, flaming orange hair and tanned skin and the other with plain features—clear the area as soon as he walks to them.
"A-ah…" the girl on the ground tries to speak as he crouches to her fallen books and gathers them together. "T-thank you, Yuki-senpai!"
…? Does she know him?
The girl finally picks herself up and moves to help Makoto, but he's already finished. He holds them out to her before pushing himself to his full height, drastically dwarfing the small girl. She stares up at him, her eyes full of awe.
Who would bully this cute creature? She's so… tiny.
Another thought courses through him, which bothers the boy more than he understands.
"A-again, thank you so much for your help," the girl bows deeply. Makoto grimaces. "I hope to one day pay back your kindness, senpai!"
His mouth moves faster than his brain. There's a first time for everything.
"Why didn't you defend yourself? They're just going to keep doing that."
The girl lowers her face, bringing her hand to her chest and smiling sadly.
"They are… my friends."
This is confusing. Why would she consider those people her friends, especially after they pushed and threatened her?
So, he raises an eyebrow, gesturing with a limp hand to the hall where the girls scurried away. "Doesn't seem like it."
"Natsuki-chan is going through a tough time," the girl continues to smile, this time looking Makoto in the eyes. "Mari-chan tends to follow whatever she does." Her expression fell again before she backtracked on her words. "B-but I don't mind! We're friends, after all."
"I don't understand," Makoto frowns. This isn't what friendship is, is it? He doesn't know.
This is why avoiding people is the best option. There's no confusion about what it means, no possibility of losing anyone, and no mistaking what you have for something else entirely.
"You don't have to," the younger girl replies. "Friendship comes in many different shapes and forms. That's what makes them so special. My relationship with Natsuki-chan and Mari-chan may be rough, but I believe it will improve." A firmer voice follows, one filled with hope. "It has to."
Makoto doesn't understand. And so, he turned and walked away without another word, continuing with his previous task with more and more thoughts to ponder.
—
After School
Kotone nurses her head, the throbbing in her skull exasperated when she listens to a girl laugh loudly. She snarls, shushing with fervour only a person nursing a confounding headache could muster. Kotone smirks devilishly when two girls scrounge up their school supplies and rapidly leave the library, as she smugly lays her head back down against her desk for a quick nap.
One of the blessings of being on the library committee is that Kotone can sleep off whatever she needs to without any hassle.
Usually. See On good days. Today is not one of those.
Someone enters the usually empty library before she can feel any relief. She hopes they'll find a corner and hide in it, but no. Kotone can hear the light footfalls against the carpeted floor pad closer and closer.
"Buh," she raises her head, putting on the most pleasant smile she can muster. What a pain in the ass. "How can I be of assistance?"
"Sleepy, huh?" Yukari's voice makes Kotone finally open her eyes, and her smile forcibly shifts to something more 'real' when she realizes who it is.
They can't know.
"Y-Yukari!" Kotone airily giggles, playing up being caught in the act as much as possible as she rubs the back of her head in mock embarrassment. "What… what brings you in?"
"Ah, nothing important," Yukari waves her off wryly, raising an eyebrow. Kotone doesn't fully understand this girl. From what she assumed, Yukari had an issue with the way Kotone picked a fight with Yuki-Senpai. But nothing changed between them?
Ugh. Friendships are complicated—especially girl ones. Saori and Rio are a pain in the ass, too.
Without missing a beat, Yukari continues with her burgeoning conversation, Kotone's confusion going unnoticed.
"Can we go to Tartarus tonight? Some guy from another school hit on me during practice, and I really wanna let off some steam."
"...Huh?" Kotone shuts her eyes and opens them, hoping to clear some of the fog from her mind. This is not what she was expecting. Again.
"I've just been so irritated lately," Yukari sighs, unfettered by Kotone's strange behaviour. "With that guy hitting on me and Yuki-Senpai, it's all just been piling up, y'know? I know we've made it to that floor we can't get past, but jeez." The girl groans, throwing her head back. "I need an outlet!"
"Uh, what?" Kotone once more asks. "What's your issue with To—Yuki-senpai?"
"Same as you, I thought," the girl quirks her head, leaning against Kotone's desk. "I can't understand why he's… ugh. He just does whatever the Senpai says! It doesn't help that no one will tell us what he's doing." Yukari grimaces. "I hate it. We're supposed to be in SEES to help people, not keep secrets from each other."
Oh. Kotone thought she was angry at her for what she said to Makoto, but no. Yukari assumed Kotone was an unlikely ally in her corner.
She might as well play this to her advantage.
"Yeah," Kotone groans. "I get you. It's frustrating. I gotta ask, though, have you heard anything?" When Yukari furrows her eyebrows in confusion, Kotone elaborates. "Like, in terms of what he's even doing."
"Well, from what I've gathered," the girl leans forward, her pinkish hair swishing with the movement. Yukari acts like she's above gossip, but Kotone knows she's just as much of a fan of it as anyone else—not that Kotone's in any place to judge. "He's been looking for something. Yuki-senpai's been all over the city. Kirijo-senpai mentioned last night that it's a nightly thing and that tonight is, quote, something big. You got any ideas what she could mean?"
Kotone wracks her brain, hoping that some previous interaction will loosen itself from her whiskey-braised neurons, but nothing comes to bear. She shakes her head, silently cursing her new nightly habit of retreating into her room whenever Makoto returns to the dorm.
"Maybe some kind of Shadow?" Kotone tries, finding no other alternative. "I can't think of any other reason they'd be sending someone out alone during the Dark Hour."
That reasoning doesn't make Yukari happy. Her face drops, worry etching in place of the annoyance like a gravestone.
"Alone? They wouldn't do that, would they?"
"Like I said," Kotone shrugs and sighs. "I can't think of any other reason. Look, you remember how strong he was when he summoned Thanatos. Maybe… maybe he can handle it?"
God, she hopes he can handle it.
"Still, I don't think it's good for him to be going out nightly," Yukari grimaces, twisting her fringe between her finger and thumb. "Yuki-senpai can't be healed if he's dead."
Those words shock Kotone's spine and bile up her oesophagus. She swallows instinctively, but the sound of upchucking reaches Yukari's ear.
"Woah, you okay?" Yukari tilts her head. "You're looking… green?"
The roiling in her stomach reaches a precipice, and she can't control her rotting gut from ridding itself of the poison inside. With a loud belching groan, Kotone's insides become her outside.
Or rather, all over Yukari's pink cardigan.
The relief she felt for a split second is immediately quashed when she realizes what she just did.
The girl lets out a yelp, jumping back and dropping her bag and books all over the library floor. "Oh, gross!" Yukari screeches before raising her head back to Kotone.
"I'm so sorry!" The offender hops the counter, her shaking hands running up and down the wool fabric like they're gonna do anything aside from smear. "Oh god! Oh god, I-I'm so sorry! Y-your cardigan is ruined! Oh my god!"
"Forget that!" Yukari immediately grips Kotone's shaking fingers, uncaring to the bile and remnants of vodka-stenched slurry on her skin. "Are you okay? We should go to the nurses' office quickly! C'mon!"
Yukari dragged Kotone away, covered from shirt to skirt in sludgy puke.
Shame. It's all Kotone can bear to feel.
—
After School
"Thank you for allowing me to come along," Mitsuru sparks up through the lapsing silence that overtakes them as they walk the road to Paulownia. She clears her throat before continuing when Makoto doesn't respond. "I… hope I am not intruding."
"You are," he replies with a shrug. "But it's your right."
"Uh," The heiress physically jerks from his words. "W-well, I wanted to discuss what happened with Shiomi last week. I…"
She trails off, making Makoto look over at her. The girl had stopped, staring into the burger shop Makoto walks past daily. It's one of the chains only found in Iwatodai. Wild Duck Burger, he thinks it was called?
It never caught his interest. There's one over by the station, too, in the strip mall.
"Hungry?" Makoto asks with his hands in his pockets.
"Ah," Mitsuru finally wrenches her gaze away from the restaurant, a frazzled expression racing across her face before it's schooled back to its usual, cool exterior. "N-no. Ahem, apologies. It would be… unfair of me to place my desires after already intruding."
Makoto only raises an eyebrow. "It's just food."
"I…" Suddenly, the girl looks embarrassed, kicking her boots on the pavement while gripping her bag like a schoolgirl. She's kind of cute—not in the same way the second year was earlier, but in a gap-moe way. Interesting. "I've never been to a place like this before. I don't know the proper etiquette."
"It's fast food," Makoto quirks his head. "You order, eat, then leave."
"Still, I-I shouldn't simply enter a restaurant and consume their food without knowing the proper—ah!" The girl tries to go on her tirade, but Makoto simply grabs her hand and pulls her inside.
"Welcome to Wild Duck Burger!" A cashier cheerfully smiles at the front. The stench of grease and a clinging humidity stick to Makoto's chest, and beeping alarms signal that food is ready to serve.
Ah, reminders of childhood. Fast food rocks.
"Ask for a smile when you're done," Makoto pushes Kirijo to the counter. She flounders, looking around desperately for a menu, while the lady at the register glances over to Makoto in confusion. He simply stares back indifferently as he buries his hands into his pockets.
Sink or swim. The best way to learn is to be thrown in the deep end. Besides, he already knows what he wants to order.
—
"It's… delicious," Mitsuru says after finishing the food in her mouth. "I know it's improper to speak during a meal. However, I must compliment the chef. This is magnificent for the speed in which it was prepared."
Makoto stares at her. His eyes are levelled evenly against her crimson orbs, wide as the sun. He munches away, letting the girl gush about fast food. This Mitsuru Kirijo is another facet of the princess he met all those days ago, who never seems to stop changing every image he manages to construct of her with each interaction he's forced to have.
She's… interesting. A creature of so unknowingly affluent habits, even the idea of ordering a burger from a fast food chain is foreign to her. Yet, even with that silver spoon firmly placed in her mouth from birth, Mitsuru Kirijo allows her wonder to break through, enjoying the small parts of 'plebian society' without even a whisper of complaint on her face. She's enjoying every minute of this like she's agonized for so long to eat a burger simply. There's a layer of depth to the heiress Makoto was so ready to gloss over, allowing her to remain as the Kirijo princess who was absurdly stubborn and could do no wrong in his mind's eye.
Her eyes light up as she primly and properly munches on the junk-filled sandwich, making a 700-yen meal look like a gourmet dish from a five-star Michelin. She's intriguing—so, so interesting.
"Do you think it would be rude to ask the employees how much it costs to purchase these cartons and cups in bulk?" Mitsuru asks, breaking Makoto's reverie. "Gathering as much knowledge as possible for running a chain such as this would be helpful."
"I don't think they'd care," Makoto grunts, leaning back in his seat after finishing his burger within seconds—a new record. "Ask, if you want."
"I just might," Kirijo lolls her head from left to right, obviously considering his words. Suddenly, however, she jerks. "My apologies. We didn't come out to discuss business acumen."
"Mmh." Makoto grunts, nodding with her statement. The girl wiggles in her seat, undoubtedly concerned by his lack of enthusiasm.
She doesn't comment on it anymore, at least. She's getting used to Makoto's quirks. Kirjio coughs lightly after finishing her burger. She places the wrapper neatly on her tray before straightening out in her seat before him.
Makoto just watches her fidget with an eyebrow raised.
"About Shiomi," She starts. "What she said last week was unacceptable. As a member of SEES, I want you to be aware that I have spoken to her about her outburst. Everyone at the dorm has something they don't wish to have drudged up in a moment of heated fury. Even so, I would like to apologize on her behalf for what she said about your mother."
Makoto shrugs. "It's fine, it didn't bother me."
Kirijo's face twists as she folds her burger wrap into a neat pile. The way her mouth lifts creases her cheek in a way that Makoto recognizes as disgust. What's got her so chapped?
"Forgive me, but your opinion on the matter is wrong. I've come to respect your flippant stance on most matters concerning slights toward you. However, I cannot stand by and allow our kouhai to speak ill of those who gave us life." If possible, her face twists further. Kirijo's forehead crinkles, telling Makoto just how much it bothered her just by how much the previously pristine skin wrinkles like a wrathful banshee. She must be pretty intimidating to other people. "Especially the dead."
Makoto's mouth moves before he can think. This is happening a lot lately. "What's got you so upset? She didn't insult you."
That catches her off guard. The rage pours off of her like a mist—then, it's gone in an instant, replaced by a sad expression that reminds Makoto of a small, broken little girl.
Jeez, Mitsuru can make a hell of a lot of expressions. Why can everyone he knows do that so much better than he can? Even Iori-chan can do it better.
Irritating.
"Apologies," the girl squirms slightly, blushing a bit. "I… may have projected a little bit. I lost my mother when I was young, too. It's a sore spot for me."
"…ah," is all Makoto can reply with. He stares at her, taking in the sadness from her soul. It's deep, familiar. So, he continues. "It didn't bother me because I know my mom wouldn't think that way."
That makes Mitsuru raise her head, meeting his cold gaze with her ruby orbs—flaming with ambition on a regular day, now doused in a vulnerable haze.
Makoto decides to elaborate. "She told me to live when she died. Gave me hers so I could have mine. Nobody could ever be disappointed in someone they could do that for." His mouth hurts from talking so much. It's easier when he's running on adrenaline from the Dark Hour. "I know she'd never think that, so it doesn't bother me. Promise."
He just wishes she were still alive, and he wasn't. But he's not willing to tell Mitsuru that.
Yet, at least. Makoto recognizes that he is starting to warm up to her and Akihiko, as foreign as the idea is and ever could be.
"I… still dislike that Shiomi treaded that far. However," Kirijo's body loses all tension, giving way to her usual regal tone and body language. "I am willing to acknowledge your feelings and let the matter rest. Thank you for your honesty, Yuki."
"It's fine."
And that's all it ever will be.
——
It doesn't take much longer for them to make it to Paulownia. Kirijo is a little hard to keep track of since she's constantly being wowed by something mundane she'd never seen before, but Makoto doesn't have any desire to stop or speed her up.
Some of him enjoys letting her experience things she never got to in her childhood.
Outside of the mall proper, the two stop near a building. Mitsuru is immediately immersed, so Makoto falls back and leans against a barricade, keeping the sidewalk separate from the street.
"This is a… konbini?" The girl asks, pointing conspiratorially at a FamilyMart, a serious look shadowing her features. "Is it true that they carry every necessity within such a small storefront?"
"Kinda," Makoto affirms, looking up from his phone. After noticing she wanted to check out the store, he pulled it out, deciding to let the girl do her thing. "It's more junk food, but you could get something good. Groceries, shampoo, underwear."
"Interesting." she nods, pulling out her own cell phone and typing something out on her notes function. "A one-stop shop… may we see the interior?"
Makoto weighs her question, checking the time on his screen. "Mm… Not today. It's getting late, and I still wanna check on the girl from Kenneth Arnold."
"Right!" Mitsuru immediately breaks out of her excited daze. "My apologies. You have been extremely tolerant of my eccentricities. Please, let us head immediately for Paulownia."
"It's fine," Makoto waves off her worry. "Let's go. I still gotta prep for the Dark Hour."
It doesn't take much longer to get inside the mall. Greeted by air-conditioned splendour, Makoto sighs in relief as they escape from the April humidity.
"I will complete your prep for the Dark Hour while you perform your check-in," Mitsuru militaristically nods before marching off in some direction Makoto hasn't had the chance to check out yet. The mall is enormous, especially when it's in its Asphodel form. Being here in the Waking World is a shift toward the uncanny.
He finds his gaze lingering on the retreating redhead, a new feeling burgeoning within the hollowness in his chest.
Worry. Will she be alright? Maybe Makoto should check on her afterward. Kirijo's pretty naive, so she might get lost or get talked into something she shouldn't.
Quickly as he can, he rips that thought out by the root.
He doesn't care. She's a big girl. She survived this long without him, and she's more than willing and able to put some creepy promoter in his place. The heiress isn't stupid. So why is he worrying about her?
"Ugh," the boy grunts, shaking his head before moving into the music shop he'd made his goal a few hours earlier.
Then, he's struck with another reality of his situation. Why is he so focused on this girl? He never even conversed with her, yet he worries about her well-being.
God, what the hell is happening? He doesn't even know her damn name.
"Helloooooo," a voice interrupts his internal turmoil, a voice belonging to the girl he came for. "Oh, it's you. Hey."
She fixes him with a disinterested stare, peering at him behind a curtain of blue-dyed, blunted bangs—did she change the colour?—and pierced eyebrows.
Well, at least she isn't interested. She's safe, so Makoto can cross that off his list. He might as well check out their album collection.
With a nod, he strolls over to his refuge and flicks through the records.
They're all ones he's seen before, no new drop shipments, it seems. He hopes that the new Yuka Kiwami album drops soon. Makoto's getting antsy—
He feels eyes on him, a sense honed by already-countless encounters during the Dark Hour, making his hair stand on end. Trained instinct guides his hand slowly toward the concealed holster on his hip. The Evoker is easy to hide, especially under his winter uniform. Since that chaotic first night, Makoto vowed never to be caught off guard again. He'd always be ready for combat.
As inconspicuous as possible, he scans the record shop for any sign of Strega. He'd fight them in the waking world, and he'd win. His heart rate quickens with the anticipation of a potential battle, each second fueling the excitement of possibly fighting for his life. He silently hopes it's that other Persona user—Shirato something. Makoto's slowly rebuilding pride aches for a rematch.
But no one stands out. The store is empty, save for the cashier.
Her hair looks straighter, and is that… lip gloss? She must have plans after her shift.
Is she involved in the Sabbath somehow? Maybe…
"Excuse me," Makoto grunts, making the girl jump. "Are you busy later?"
"H-huh?!" Maybe that was too forward. She's bright red and seems to be trembling. He doesn't want to come off as creepy. "Uh, n-no! I'm… free. You, uh…" Her face contorts into a mix of shock and embarrassment, contrasting her earlier indifference. Makoto wonders if she might be sick. "Why? N-not that I care."
"Alright," Makoto shrugs, turning back to the albums. Maybe it's time to find Mitsuru and head back to the dorm.
"Uh, um!" The cashier girl speaks up again. He lazily glances back at her, noticing a blushing, shy, tepid-looking woman he'd never seen before. Her black clothes starkly contrast the bright embarrassment colouring her cheeks. The harsh piercings are a direct contradiction to her timid demeanour.
It's cute.
"Would… I was invited to a… thing later." The girl twists her hands together; her blush from earlier reaching new heights of crimson. "I-I wasn't gonna go, 'cause the guys who invited me work at Club Escapade and they're all…" Her face shifts to one of slight disgust, which piques Makoto's interest. "Creepy. If you want," She trails off, the disgust leaking off her face when she looks up at him again.
Huh? She looks almost hopeful.
The boy considers her invitation for a second, lolling his head from side to side. Club Escapade means one thing: Strega. This could be related to the Sabbath, so participating'd be wise. The only issue he can think of is that many of the members there know his face, especially that Shirato guy. That might be a bad call, in his honest opinion.
So, he should say no. Avoid getting into a situation that could get him killed.
But then again… he is unkillable. A smirk stretches slowly across his cheeks, a deadly smile.
"Sure," He lifts up his head to her, the smile not dropping. She quickly looks away, her face turning almost purple. "I'd love to."