Disclaimer: Persona Series is owned by Atlus games and Honkai Impact 3rd by miHoYo.

The sun was high on the field as Takeshi and I stood side by side, waiting for Satoshi-san to bark out the next drill. The man was relentless, going through the roster of physical activities like he was training us for an Olympic decathlon.

And then there was Takeshi. My "partner."

Let's be clear—I was never the most athletic guy among my group back in Gekkoukan. That honor definitely went to Akihiko-senpai, the man who spent half his life in a gym and the other half in a boxing ring. Even Mitsuru had this quiet elegance in her movements that made it clear she could outrun or outmaneuver anyone if she wanted to.

Me? I was just...average. Or at least I used to be.

Weeks—no, months—of fighting Shadows in the Dark Hour had done something to my body. It wasn't like I'd gone full-on bodybuilder or anything. No six-pack, no bulging muscles, but I'd filled out. I was lean, solid. The kind of build where people wouldn't call you skinny but wouldn't expect you to bench press a truck either. Functional strength, I think they call it.

So, yeah, I thought I'd hold my own in a simple high school PE class. I was wrong.

"Alright, next drill! Long jump!" Satoshi-san announced, pointing at the designated area like it was a gladiator arena.

Takeshi grinned, rolling his shoulders. "Hope you're ready, Minato. Don't embarrass yourself."

"I'll try to survive," I replied dryly, stepping up to the line.

One by one, the students took their turn. Some barely made it past the first marker. Others, like the track team members, managed to leap impressively far.

And then there was Takeshi.

The guy launched himself into the air with the kind of energy that made you question if he had springs in his legs. He landed well past the furthest marker, his sneakers kicking up a small cloud of dirt.

"Takeshi, like always, is a beast," one of the students muttered, huffing for breath as they wiped the sweat from their forehead.

"Not bad, huh?" Takeshi said, brushing some imaginary dirt off his shoulder as he turned to me with a cocky grin.

"Show-off," I muttered under my breath, stepping up for my turn.

I took a deep breath, ran forward, and jumped. It wasn't bad—definitely above average for the class—but it still paled in comparison to Takeshi's inhuman leap.

"Not bad!" Takeshi said, clapping me on the back. "For a beginner."

"Thanks," I deadpanned.

"Alright, next up: sprints!" Satoshi-san announced, his booming voice cutting through the chatter.

Takeshi's eyes lit up. "This is my territory."

"Great," I muttered, already bracing myself for another humiliating loss.

We lined up at the starting mark, and when Satoshi-san blew his whistle, Takeshi took off like a bullet.

I pushed myself as hard as I could, my legs pumping, my lungs burning, but it was no use. Takeshi crossed the finish line in what felt like seconds, leaving the rest of us trailing in his dust.

"Ten seconds!" Satoshi-san called out, checking his stopwatch. "Impressive!"

"Wasn't the world record 9.58?" I said, more to myself than anyone else, as I crossed the finish line.

"Close enough!" Takeshi said, jogging back toward me with a laugh. "You've got some speed, Minato, but you've gotta push harder! You can't settle for second place!"

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, trying not to sound too sarcastic as I caught my breath.

Takeshi patted me on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. Not everyone can be a natural like me. You did okay."

I simply hummed.

The other students looked at him like he was some kind of superhero, their admiration practically glowing. It was clear Takeshi thrived in this environment, while I was just...there, trying not to embarrass myself.

"Man, Takeshi's insane," one of the students whispered to another.

"He's like an Olympic athlete. How does he do it?"

Takeshi just grinned, soaking in the attention like a plant in sunlight. "Hard work and natural talent, my friends! You can't fake this."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm winning," he shot back, giving me a wink.

I sighed, already dreading the next drill. This was going to be a long class.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Mei turned to me, her bag slung neatly over her shoulder.

"Well, Minato, I'll see you tomorrow," she said, her tone polite as always, but there was something else there—concern, maybe?

I nodded.

"You're sure about the ride?" she added, tilting her head slightly, her dark hair framing her face.

"I'll pass," I said simply, slipping my bag over my shoulder. "Got some things to do."

She hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether to push the matter, but eventually gave a small, understanding smile. "Alright. Take care."

With that, she turned and walked away, her usual graceful stride carrying her toward the waiting limo. She paused briefly at the door, waving to a cluster of her admirers who were still hanging around, before disappearing inside.

I lingered by the shoe lockers, switching into my outdoor shoes. The truth was, the offer was tempting—walking home wasn't exactly thrilling—but the last thing I needed was more attention. The glares I'd gotten from some of the other students after lunch were enough to last a lifetime.

Sliding my shoes on, I sighed quietly. "No need to make things harder on yourself," I muttered under my breath.

Just as I stood up, I felt a firm hand land on my shoulder.

"Hey, Minato!"

I turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Sure enough, Takeshi stood there, grinning like the day couldn't get any better.

"Let's walk home together!" he said, completely ignoring any sense of personal space.

I blinked at him. "Why?"

"Why not?" he shot back, his grin unwavering. "Besides, where do you live?"

"Do you always interrogate strangers like this?" I asked flatly, brushing his hand off my shoulder.

He laughed—a loud, carefree sound that echoed through the now-empty hallway. "Only the interesting ones. So, c'mon, where's home?"

I adjusted my bag, considering whether to humor him or just walk away. But something about his energy was hard to ignore—annoying, sure, but not in a bad way.

"Near the shopping district," I said finally, stepping toward the door.

"Perfect! Let's go."

He fell into step beside me as we left the school grounds, humming some tunes under his breath.

Takeshi kept humming a song I vaguely recognized, his steps matching an upbeat rhythm. It was the kind of energy that felt completely alien to me—like he didn't know how to be anything other than cheerful.

"So," he began, his voice cutting through the late afternoon quiet, "you're near the shopping district, huh? That place has some solid food stalls. You are a regular there?"

I shrugged, keeping my pace steady. "Not really."

"Missed opportunity, man." Takeshi clapped his hands together like he was sharing some sacred knowledge. "They've got the best yakisoba at that cart near the arcade. And don't get me started on the taiyaki stand. You gotta try it sometime."

"Noted," I said, my tone as flat as ever.

Takeshi glanced sideways at me, his grin still firmly in place. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"

"Not much to say," I replied, though I knew it wasn't entirely true. There was plenty to say—I just didn't see the point of saying it.

He chuckled. "Fair enough. But you know, silence doesn't scare me. I'll fill it for both of us if I have to."

And fill it he did. He launched into a story about how he'd once tried to juggle soccer practice, studying for a test, and rescuing a stray cat all in the same day. It was ridiculous, a little too exaggerated to be true, but I found myself listening anyway.

"...and then the cat just takes off with my sandwich," Takeshi finished, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Can you believe that? After all the effort I went through!"

"You could've just left the cat alone," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" He looked at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Life's too short not to take some risks, you know?"

I didn't respond right away, letting his words hang in the air as we turned a corner. It wasn't that I disagreed—it just wasn't how I operated.

As we walked, I caught myself watching him out of the corner of my eye. There was something about him that reminded me of two people I used to know. He had Junpei's casual, almost reckless friendliness, the way he seemed to approach the world like it was a game he was determined to win. But there was also a hint of Akihiko in him—the disciplined way he carried himself, the underlying seriousness beneath all the joking around.

It was an odd combination, but it somehow worked for him.

"Hey," I said suddenly, breaking the rhythm of his next story.

He looked at me, surprised. "Yeah?"

"Why are you trying so hard?"

His grin faltered for the first time, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. "Trying hard? At what?"

"At this." I gestured vaguely between us. "Talking to me, walking home together. You barely know me."

Takeshi scratched the back of his neck, his easygoing demeanor returning after a brief pause. "I dunno. You just seem... interesting, I guess? Like there's more to you than you let on. Besides, it's not every day someone like you shows up at school."

"Someone like me?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You're different," he said, shrugging. "Not in a bad way, though. Just... quiet. Mysterious, even." He grinned again. "It makes me want to figure you out."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Good luck with that."

"Challenge accepted!" he said brightly, punching the air like he'd just scored a goal.

Takeshi's enthusiasm radiated like sunlight through a window you'd forgotten to close. It wasn't just his words—it was the way he carried himself, a mix of genuine cheer and unwavering determination, like he was one step away from pulling me into a motivational seminar against my will.

He fell into step beside me again, his hands clasped behind his head. "So, Minato, what's your deal? You into sports? Games? Secretly a karaoke star?"

I shot him a sidelong glance. "You're not going to stop until I give you something, are you?"

"Nope!" His grin widened.

"Fine," I said, exhaling slowly. "I like music."

"Music, huh? Like, listening or playing?"

"Both," I admitted reluctantly.

He gave an exaggerated nod, as if he'd uncovered some grand secret. "Alright, now we're getting somewhere. What kind of music?"

I hesitated, weighing whether it was worth indulging him further. "Whatever fits the mood," I said vaguely, hoping it would end there.

But Takeshi, of course, wasn't one to let vagueness slide. "Fits the mood, huh? So if I played something right now, could you guess the mood I'm going for?"

"That's... not how it works."

"Oh, c'mon!" He nudged me with his elbow, like we were already old friends. "Humor me. Let's say..." He paused dramatically, cupping his chin. "...I start singing something upbeat and catchy. What's the vibe?"

"Annoying," I replied without missing a beat.

He burst out laughing, doubling over slightly as we walked. "Okay, fair. But what if it was something slower? Like... a ballad?"

I gave him a flat look. "Then I'd wonder why you're singing in the middle of the street."

"Man, you're tough," Takeshi said, still grinning. "But I like that about you. You don't sugarcoat things."

"I don't see the point," I said simply.

He hummed thoughtfully, a rare moment of quiet from him. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he gestured toward a passing cat lounging in the sun. "Hey, you think that cat's having a good day?"

I blinked. "What?"

"The cat," he repeated, as if this was the most natural train of thought in the world. "Think it's enjoying itself? Or is it like, 'Man, I wish I was a lion or something cooler.'"

"You're impossible," I muttered, though I couldn't suppress the faintest twitch of amusement.

"Maybe," he said, his grin softening into something almost sincere. "But if I didn't say dumb stuff, I wouldn't get to see you smile like that."

I stopped mid-step, caught off guard by his observation. It wasn't much—a simple, fleeting comment—but it stuck with me.

Takeshi didn't stop walking, turning around to wave me forward with an exaggerated beckoning gesture. "C'mon, Minato! Don't leave me hanging!"

Shaking my head, I followed after him, falling back into stride. For all his goofiness, Takeshi was proving to be someone I couldn't quite figure out either.

Maybe that was why he didn't annoy me as much as I thought he would.

We walked in a companionable silence for a few minutes, the chatter of students and the distant hum of traffic filling the void. Just as I was beginning to think Takeshi had run out of steam—a rare phenomenon, I imagined—he stopped abruptly, nearly causing me to crash into him.

"Ah, here we are!" He pointed enthusiastically at a small ramen shop tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. Its modest, somewhat faded sign read Tanaka's Ramen, and the scent of broth and fresh noodles wafted out through the open door. "This place. Best ramen in town, hands down. Cheap too, so it's a win-win."

I raised an eyebrow. "You were just going to walk me home. Now you're planning dinner?"

Takeshi grinned, already pushing the door open. "Hey, priorities change. Besides, it's not every day you get to share a meal with your mysterious, enigmatic friend."

I opened my mouth to argue that we weren't friends, but the smell of the ramen hit me full force, and suddenly my stomach betrayed me with a low, embarrassing growl.

Takeshi laughed, loud and unrestrained. "Guess that settles it! Let's go!"

I sighed, stepping inside after him. The interior was small but welcoming, with just a few tables and a counter that overlooked the cooking area. An older man behind the counter nodded at us with a smile, his hands deftly assembling bowls of ramen.

"Two specials!" Takeshi called out before I could even glance at the menu.

"Wait—" I started, but he waved me off.

"Trust me," he said, sliding into one of the booths. "This place never misses."

Reluctantly, I sat across from him, the wooden bench creaking slightly under my weight. As we waited, Takeshi launched into a story about the first time he'd stumbled upon the place after getting hopelessly lost during his first week in town. I half-listened, my eyes wandering to the steam rising from the bowls at nearby tables. It reminded me of Iwatodai—the small ramen shop near the dorm, the warmth of the broth on cold nights, and the easy camaraderie of eating together after a long day.

I felt a pang of something—nostalgia, maybe. It had been a long time since I'd let myself think about those days. They felt like someone else's life, like memories I'd borrowed rather than lived.

"You okay, Minato?" Takeshi's voice broke through my thoughts.

I blinked, realizing I'd been staring at the counter. "Yeah," I said quickly. "Just... remembering something."

He tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face, but he didn't press. Instead, he grinned. "Well, this ramen is going to blow those memories out of the water. Just you wait."

A moment later, the bowls arrived, steaming and fragrant. The broth was rich and inviting, the noodles perfectly curled in the soup. I picked up my chopsticks, glancing at Takeshi, who was already diving in like he hadn't eaten in days.

I took a bite. The flavor exploded on my tongue—salty, savory, with just a hint of spice. It wasn't quite like the ramen from Iwatodai, but it was good. Really good.

"Well?" Takeshi asked, his mouth half-full but his grin still intact.

I nodded, taking another bite. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" He laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible to impress, huh?"

I didn't respond immediately, letting the warmth of the ramen settle in my chest. Takeshi, for all his energy and chatter, had chosen well. Maybe there was more to him than I'd given him credit for.

"Thanks," I said quietly, almost to myself.

Takeshi paused mid-slurp, blinking at me. "For what?"

I shook my head. "For dragging me here, I guess."

He stared at me for a moment, then grinned again. "Anytime, Minato. Anytime."

We finished our bowls in relative silence after that. Takeshi had made a few more attempts at conversation—something about his favorite sports teams and the time he accidentally broke a school vending machine—but he seemed content to let me stay quiet for the most part. He was surprisingly good at reading the room for someone who also had zero sense of boundaries.

When the bill came, I pulled out my wallet, but Takeshi waved me off with an exaggerated flourish. "First meal with a friend? My treat!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Friend?"

"Absolutely," he said, his grin so self-assured it was almost irritating. "Come on, you think I'd drag just anyone to my secret ramen spot? You're special, Minato."

I wasn't sure if he was being sincere or just playing up his usual theatrics. Either way, I didn't argue. I let him pay, though I made a mental note to cover the next one—not that I was planning on there being the next one. Probably.

As we stepped out of the shop, the sky had deepened into a mix of purples and oranges, the faint remnants of sunlight fading into twilight. The air was crisp, and the faint hum of the city in the distance felt oddly comforting.

"Well, this is where I split," Takeshi said, pulling out his phone. "But before I go, let's exchange numbers."

I hesitated, wondering if this was really necessary, but he held his phone out with a look that told me he wouldn't take no for an answer. With a sigh, I gave in, typing in my number as he rambled on about how this would make it easier to coordinate future "hangouts."

"There. Done," I said, handing his phone back.

"Awesome," he said, grinning as he pocketed the device. "Alright, see you tomorrow, Minato!"

"Yeah," I replied, watching him turn and jog off down the street. His energy really was boundless.

As I walked home, the quiet wrapped around me like a familiar cloak. My thoughts drifted, first to Takeshi. He was... a lot. But not in a bad way. He reminded me of someone—no, someones. A strange mix of Junpei's relentless enthusiasm and Akihiko's stubborn drive. It was hard not to be swept along in his orbit, whether I wanted to be or not.

And then there was Mei. My thoughts snagged on her for reasons I couldn't quite pin down. She was strong and composed, yet there was something fragile beneath the surface, like cracks in a porcelain mask. I didn't know why she came to mind now, but her image lingered as I walked.

The sky darkened further, streetlights flickering to life as the first stars peeked through the veil of twilight. My footsteps echoed softly on the pavement, and for once, the weight I carried didn't feel as heavy.

Today wasn't so bad, I thought, my lips curling into a faint smile.

Not bad at all.

--

--

(Otto apocalypse pov)

Ah, chess. A game of infinite possibilities, they say. Infinite. Possibilities. As if the human mind, so flawed and desperate, could ever truly grasp the infinite. I moved a piece—a pawn, humble and disposable, like so many lives I've spent without a second thought. Yet this pawn, this tiny insignificant piece, carries the weight of kings and queens. Isn't it funny how something so small can shift the tides of history? Or maybe that's just me projecting.

"Sacrifices," I murmured to no one but myself and the silent, sterile room. The king sacrifices its pawns to protect the queen, doesn't it? But the queen—oh, the queen—what does she sacrifice? Anything? Everything? Nothing? The thought amused me, and I couldn't help but smile. A small one, the kind that doesn't reach your eyes. The kind that says, "I know something you don't."

That's the beauty of being me, I suppose. Knowing more than I should. Knowing more than I'd like. Knowing that this chessboard isn't just a game. It's my life. My choices. My regrets. Every pawn I've moved, every knight I've sacrificed, every queen I've lost—they're all here. Kallen's face, her voice, her memory... They linger in the spaces between the pieces, in the echo of my gloved hand sliding across the board.

But then, there was Kallen. Kallen Kaslana. A queen. The one I protected. The one I sacrificed for. I closed my eyes, letting the question linger like a bitter aftertaste. I had failed her. In the end, no matter how many pieces I moved on this damned board, no matter how many pawns I sacrificed, I could never bring her back.

Kallen had been my purpose. My obsession. The reason for everything I did, every horrible decision I made, every life I ended. I had built my empire, my plans, all for her. For the one woman who had saved me when no one else would. But in the end, I was the one who failed her. She had died, not because of fate, but because of me. A failure.

And then, as if the universe itself wanted to ruin my moment of introspection, there came a knock at the door. Of course. Someone always knocks when I'm about to reach a breakthrough.

"Enter," I said, my voice as sharp as the edge of the blade I no longer bother carrying.

Amber stepped in, efficient as ever. Her heels clicked against the floor, a metronome of inevitability. "Sir," she began, already holding out her tablet. "We've received a report from Nagazora."

Ah, Nagazora. A quaint little chessboard in its own right. Anti-Entropy territory. And yet, my pawn—no one of my knight—was stationed there. A dangerous game, but aren't they all?

"Go on," I said, gesturing lazily for her to continue I prompted, leaning back in my chair. I'd learned long ago that Amber never came with just one piece of information. No, she was a floodgate, and I had just opened the dam.

"There's something else," she said, hesitating for the first time. "Our operative encountered... an anomaly."

The word hung in the air, tantalizing and ripe with potential. "Anomaly?" I echoed, tilting my head. "Do go on."

Amber placed a photo on the table. The boy in the image stared back at me, his expression blank, his presence almost ghostly. Blue hair, dull eyes, and a face that seemed more like a placeholder than a person.

"Minato Arisato," Amber said. "We ran his information through every Schicksal database. Nothing. No records, no family, no history. His orphanage files are practically nonexistent, and when questioned, the staff could barely remember him."

Interesting. No, fascinating. A ghost, appearing in the heart of Nagazora. "And the Honkai sensors?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"That's the anomaly," Amber said, her tone dropping slightly. "There's... nothing. No readings at all. It's as if he doesn't exist."

That smile of mine—the small one, the one that doesn't reach the eyes—returned. "A ghost," I murmured, picking up the photo. "Or something worse."

Amber waited, as she always did, for orders. For direction. For me to decide how this little game would progress.

"What do you think, Amber?" I asked, spinning the photo between my fingers. "Do you believe in coincidences?"

"No, sir," she replied, as if I'd trained her for this exact response.

"Good," I said, tossing the photo back onto the desk. "Because coincidences are the crutch of unimaginative minds. Minato Arisato. A name that shouldn't exist, in a city that shouldn't matter. What a delightful little pattern."

I stood, moving to the chessboard. My fingers brushed against a pawn, but I didn't move it just yet. "Watch him," I said finally. "But don't engage. Not yet. A ghost may leave shadows, even if it doesn't realize it. Let's see what kind of shadows this one casts."

Amber nodded, as efficient and silent as ever, and left the room.

Once more, I returned my attention to the chessboard. But the pieces felt... different now. Unfamiliar, even. My thoughts weren't in the game anymore. They were on him. Minato Arisato. A boy who didn't exist, in a world that I had long since mapped out.

I moved a single pawn forward, a whisper escaping my lips. "Let's see what you are, little ghost."

--

My Preboards are happening and on 7th it is Math and i honestly don't know what do , bless me guyssss?!!!!