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.

62. June 24th, Museum Crashers

Persona 5: Daywatch

Friday, 24 June 2016
After School
Shibuya, Madarame's Atelier

Akira straightened the long sleeves of his summer uniform as the Phantom Thieves gathered in front of the rusting, tin-plated hut Madarame lived in. Or, at least, stuffed his students in. The transfer student took a deep breath and pressed the intercom button, a brief buzz sounding through the speaker. Instead of a click and a voice, long seconds of silence passed in the neighborhood with fresh buildings rebuilt after the last earthquake scattered among the survivors of many before.

Ann's shoulders slumped and she turned to the transfer student falling back to her side. "Are we too late?"

Akira clapped a hand on her shoulder. "He did respond when you texted him at lunch, didn't—"

After a long minute, the front door swung open with a ponderous air. Kitagawa stood on the other side, his clothes rumpled and hair disheveled. A touch of redness crept in from the corners of his eyes, bags under them reminding the transfer student of night after night trying to keep up with the grind for perfection at Inuri. After a beat for the artist's eyes to lock onto Ann, his gaze fell to the floor at her feet. "No words can express my horror at the depths I have sunk to. In ignorance, I spoke out of a desire to defend Sensei. I committed a crime against art itself, putting a frown on a face God made to smile. I am the very lowest of abject horrors."

Morgana's tail twitched left and right, his teeth bared. "How dare that silver-tongued serpent make moves on Lady Ann!"

Kitagawa's stomach growled and he covered it with a hand, averting his eyes.

Ryuji chuffed. "Dude, you look like shit."

A blush spread over her cheeks, but Ann swallowed and reached a hand at him. "S-Stop that. Can we focus on what's important here?" Her blue eyes looked away. "At least tell us you're not even considering killing yourself."

His shoulders drooped. "I… have thought of it. But if I followed through, how would I do justice to the Sayuri? How could I carry on its legacy if I cast myself from this cruel mortal coil?" He looked up at them in a jerking motion. "It calls to me, it haunts me."

Ryuji glanced at the other Phantom Thieves. "One o' you dudes know what he's talkin' 'bout?"

Kitagawa stood and drew his phone from his trouser pockets, then opened a saved image and handed it to Ann. The other Phantom Thieves gathered around, with even the leader hopping up to look over Akira's shoulder.

Makoto held her hand over her chest. "That's… amazing. And mysterious."

Akira gave a stoic nod, having no idea what words to use to describe the gentleness of the woman's gaze. The soft smile no woman had ever turned on him.

"It's beautiful," Ann said, handing the phone to the student council president.

Morgana coughed from the transfer student's shoulders. "It… is very well done."

Ryuji took it next. "Dudes, I don't know much about art, but even I can tell whoever made this was hella talented."

The transfer student handed it back to Kitagawa, who paused to stare into it with a mournful longing. "Sensei had been painting for years beforehand, but the Sayuri is considered his breakout piece. The start to his meteoric rise. It captured the minds and hearts of Japan, and inspired me to pursue art like him."

Akira found his feet rising to his toes for a moment to keep a view of the mysterious, evocative image. "What's she looking at?"

"That's a mystery left to the mind of the viewer." Kitagawa gave a brief incline of his head to Ann. "I felt the same stirring of emotion when I gazed into the Sayuri as when I first looked at you. Passion and gentleness somehow both sharing the same beauteous frame."

Ann crossed her arms and looked away, but a faint blush showed under her light makeup. "M-Me?"

Makoto coughed against her fist. "Amazing though it may be, that doesn't answer the question raised by all those plagiarism accusations out there. Or that autumn tree—"

"Enough!" Kitagawa snapped, but when he breathed out, it seemed to take his energy with it. His shoulders slumped and back hunched. "We're all… Sensei's pieces." He turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. "But I offered my work of my own will. So it can't be plagiarism. He says no matter how much the outside world enjoys seeing tears or contrition, nobody accepts an artist who cannot produce. Sensei is simply suffering from an extended bout of artist's block with Sawamura-san's suicide."

Silence pressed down on the Phantom Thieves, each one trying to think of how to pierce this latest revelation… or even decide if it was true. After long seconds, Akira asked, "And the other pupils?"

Kitagawa stood, his eyes locked onto the transfer student, looking more bloodshot than before. "Why do you push your self-centered judgmentalism onto me?"

Makoto took a shallow step closer and held out a hand, just a little too timid to take his arm. "We know how much it can hurt to have an adult, especially one you should be able to trust, betray you. Please let us help. Weren't you the one who said you were afraid of problems if you couldn't come up with something to offer him soon?"

Ann clasped her hands together, her azure eyes boring into the artist's for long moments before he breathed out. She swallowed, then held a hand up at the hut before them. "Just help us figure out what he thinks of this place as, okay? Please?"

Ryuji nodded. "Yeah, just help us out with this dude's distortion."

Akira elbowed the runner. "Everybody has this… treasured place in life, even to the point of distorting from where we actually are. We just need to know what Madarame thinks of his as."

Kitagawa's dark gaze swept over the Phantom Thieves, but flitted away from Ann before his face angled back at the ground. He drew in a deep breath, only exaggerating the hunch of his back, then nodded. "I am unsure what you mean by 'distortion', but… Whatever you are seeking would have to be a place of art. Art is everything to Sensei."

"I think that's the most we can expect from him, guys." Akira gave him a shallow bow. "Thanks."

Makoto gave a lower bow, as if that could show the thieves' earnest want to do something. "If we need more help, we'll try to come back in less… tense circumstances."

Ann followed suit, but Akira and Ryuji just trotted the others to an empty stretch of cracked sidewalk beneath one of the windows. Kitagawa shuffled back inside. After finding a quiet spot on another side road, they drew their phones.

Makoto shot him a tired glare. "Why'd you cut things off there, Akira?"

"He wasn't going to help us." Akira reached up and straightened his glasses to give his tense muscles something to do. "Take it from an abuse victim, I know he's getting abused. But he doesn't believe in us. Jesus said faith can move mountains. No faith, no action. And the longer we pushed him, the more likely he was to freak out and call the cops on us." He brought up the Metaverse Navigator. "What is this shack to him? A prison?"

"Condition has not been met."

Makoto glanced at the others. "Is it okay if we do this right here?" Her eyes flicked from the team leader to the rusting shack.

Morgana brushed his ear with a paw. "As long as we don't activate it too close to a person, we shouldn't have to worry about accidentally bringing in anyone like what happened with Reaper. Joker was up late trying to guess through the dictionary, so I can't imagine educated guesses could be any worse. After all, changing Madarame's heart would help that apprentice, as well."

Makoto glanced between the other Phantom Thieves. "Is he one of the guys who says a man's house is his castle?"

"Condition has not been met."

Ryuji scratched his scalp. "Warehouse?"

"Condition has not been met."

Makoto tapped a finger to her chin. "A guidance counselor's office?"

"Condition has not been met."

Ryuji scowled at her. "A dude blacklistin' his apprentices ain't gonna think of his place as a guidance office."

"Condition has not been met."

She crossed her arms at him. "I was thinking more of him receiving guidance from them. Don't the best teachers say they learn from their students?"

Akira snorted. "Not in Japan. Our model is still the expert regurgitating information on students and expecting them to soak it up like a sponge, despite research in the sixties showing that wasn't the best way to imprint information for retention." He re-settled his glasses. "An art supply store?"

"Condition has not been met."

Ryuji tilted his head left, then right, in thought. "A farm?"

"Condition has not been met."

Ann crossed her arms, one finger tapping her elbow. "A factory?"

"Condition has not been met."

Makoto's lips twisted right, then left. "An art school?"

"Condition has not been met."

"An archive?" Akira guessed.

"Condition has not been met."

Akira looked to Ann, her azure eyes staring, unfocused, at the artist's shack. "Anything?"

While the track star flopped back against the next home's brick wall, Makoto side-stepped to get out of the way of his spread arms and glared into the Nav on her phone. "A distortion from an artist…" She tapped a finger to her chin and blinked, then looked at him. "A museum?"

"Match found. Beginning Navigation. Target Azazel."

A momentary sensation of the world moving around them, every straight line curling as if attempting to turn into a circle. Then, after a blink of the eye, the dilapidated Shibuya neighborhood mixed with fresh houses stretched before them, each building stretching a little higher than it should, and all of them looming over the gathered teens. Makoto jogged towards the intersection to look down the road they took from the train station. "Where did everyone else go?" Then her eyes drifted up. "Wait, it's not nearly windy enough for those kinds of rippling thunderstorm clouds."

Ann patted a hand on the upperclassman's shoulder. "Relax, Rider. The distortions of the Metaverse are always a little weird. See how it looks like all the buildings even look like they're all leaning over us?"

Akira slipped his phone in his jacket pocket. "Looks like regular Tokyo to me."

Ryuji held up a hand at the class president. "Hard part's up, we're in!"

She blinked… until Ann hopped in to give a high-five, then reciprocated with the still-outstretched hand.

The class president scrutinized the architecture curving out at them. "Weird, but a completely different kind of strange to the grubby Shibuya in Kaneshiro's Palace."

Morgana nodded, his child-like Metaverse form's large head bobbing. "Precisely. The distortion of each Palace is unique to its Ruler. Ones like Kaneshiro had gross misinterpretations of the entire world around him. For others, the cognition can be extremely subtle. You may notice the rest of you also haven't transformed into your Phantom Thief selves. That means the Palace Ruler doesn't yet consider us a threat. Best to stick to code names, however." He rubbed his hands. "Now, let's go see what the Ruler's Palace sanctum looks like. It better not be flying."

They rounded the corner, and where a rusting shack sat nestled between humble homes before, an enormous, blocky building with a polished gold exterior dominated the block. Trucks painted with advertisements reading 'Come and see the magnificent Madarame!' shared curb space with limousines and luxury cars, and where a narrow sidewalk lay in front of the real house, an expansive concrete lane packed with people lined up to the gate opening to the building, shining like polished ingots.

Ryuji jammed his hands in his pockets. "Maaan! Look't that line. It'd take hours to get inside."

Akira took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Ryuji, you bonehead. We're Phantom Thieves. We'll find a skylight or back entrance."

Ann jerked her thumb at the entrance, and the tall perimeter wall wrapped around the glistening museum and loomed over the street so much he could swear it leaned out over the sidewalk. "With that wall? I don't see any way but the front."

Akira growled. "Then we walk around 'til we find some back entrance. You know, at the back."

Makoto's hand on his shoulder brought the transfer student to a pause. "Or we make our own." She pointed at a large delivery van. The group followed her to it and she hauled the door open. Plush leather seats and fine carpeting lined the inside. "Well, this is evidence Madarame has distorted expectations, but it's not proof of plagiarism. How long did it take for you to find deciding evidence with Kamoshida? It wasn't until the vaults when we saw Kaneshiro's memories."

Akira shared a glance with Ann, then they both averted their eyes. "We… kind of got dumped right into pervert central in Kamoshida's castle. Though I think Kaneshiro's ATM cognitions always having more money was telling in its own way."

Ryuji chuckled. "Yeah, that was awesome."

When she climbed in, Akira looked up at her. "You know how to hotwire a car?"

"No need," she said, turning the key already in the ignition. The engine thrummed to life and the rest of the Phantom Thieves backed well away. Makoto closed the door, clicked the seat belt, then put the van into reverse. The van shook when one wheel, then the next passed the curb. Then it hit the wall with a thud.

Ryuji clapped. "She's there."

Makoto rolled her eyes and extricated herself from the vehicle. "Well, at least we can get to the top of the wall from the van's roof."

Akira hopped onto the hood, then cab, then strolled up the top of the cargo compartment. "Well, time to find out why some dude who's already got crap in museums all over the world would dream of museums."

Ryuji joined him. "For real. What's a museum gotta do with plagiarism?"

"No point standing there scratching our heads." Morgana hopped straight up to the top of the cab, then to the wall. "Come on, Phantom Thieves."

The instant they reached the top of the perimeter wall, the thieves fell silent. Burly men in blue uniforms patrolled the stone paths on the ground. Stone fixtures rose up from the meditative garden, giving them a path to hop over the well-patrolled grounds to a balcony with a skylight to a dim room. Morgana flipped open a bar to brace outside the skylight panel and tied a rope to it. They all froze when a cone of light meandered over the floor. A bulky figure in a generic pale blue rent-a-cop uniform trotted through the aisle.

Makoto backed up a bit and clapped a hand over her mouth. She hissed, "That Shadow's got more brawn than Jean-Claude van Damme. How strong are the Shadows here?"

Ann peered at it from her perch on one knee. She whispered, "I still can't believe this gold-plated place is Madarame's Palace. He looks like such a kind old man."

The roving Shadow guard disappeared through the other door. Ryuji clicked his rifle together and slung it on his shoulder. "I know you said we could do cool movie ninja stuff in the Metaverse, but for real, dudes. That's a long drop."

Morgana unspooled a heavy climber's cord from one of his belt pouches. "You may be a man of many weapons and Joker of many Personas, but your leader is a master of many tools."

Ryuji rolled his eyes and mouthed with exaggerated twisting to his face, "Master of many tools."

Makoto finished tightening the folding shoulder brace on her pump-action shotgun, now sporting an underbarrel flashlight. She jabbed the track star with her elbow. "Just make sure you're prepared, Reaper. Everyone ready?"

Ann pulled her pistol from her bag and tested the under-barrel light against the gaudy, polished-gold roof. When the beam reflected glistening golden light, she turned it back off and screwed on a suppressor.

Morgana tied off the end of the cord to a locked latch on the multi-segment skylight. "Okay, you guys first. I'll make sure it holds up, and go last."

Akira nodded, pushed his school satchel tight against his shoulder, and left his sub-machine gun folded up as he took the cord and slid down. The instant his foot hit the ground, flaming motes of light washed over him, leaving him in the slick, high-necked longcoat he loved about the Metaverse. He moved over to the velvet ropes dividing the aisle from enormous paintings hanging on the wall. Spaced out like an exhibit in a real museum, a brass stand held up a placard for each painting.

Makoto came next to him, squinting in the dark. She reached and turned her gun-light on with a faint click, centering it on the impressionist portrait hanging next to a short hallway. "Is that painting… moving?"

Ryuji came to a stop next to her, the two of them in their Phantom Thief garb reminding the transfer student of TV villains. They stared at the shimmer, as if looking through an image under a few inches of river water. "That ain't the weirdest thing we've seen in a Palace."

Morgana picked up the loose end of cord and tossed it so a high loop caught on the corner of a portrait at the side of the broad hall with a red rug running down the center. With the evidence of their entry concealed, he joined the others.

Ann came to the transfer student's other side and clicked her gun-light at the placard. "Minami Saki."

Makoto looked down the short hall of paintings behind the standing placard. "Looks like nothing past here." She lowered her shotgun barrel to the ground. "Thanks for the idea of the gun light, Ann—Panther. I wish I'd thought to add it to my shotgun before that battle in the vault."

Ryuji snorted. "Ya mean my RMB-93."

Ann rolled her eyes. "You were the one who gave it to her, Reaper."

He bristled, the plates in his jacket jutting out. "'Cause she was only good with the shotgun in Gun About an' I wan'ed to get back to blastin' Shadows."

Morgana hopped up on one of the poles holding up the velvet ropes separating the broad hallway from the strange portraits. "What does this one say, Panther?"

She moved and shone her gun-light at the placard. "Tokunaga Rin." She sucked in a sharp gasp.

The others all jerked, weapons up. "What is it?"

"That's one of Madarame's pupils who committed suicide!" She waggled her gun-light at the date just below the name. "Tokunaga Rin. 2008."

Akira stepped inside, eyes tracing over the paintings hung in the dim side-hall. One in particular resembled those creepy trees with faces in them Ann pointed out at the art exhibit in the real world. Curiosity aroused, he reached out to grasp the frame of the painting.

Shibuya, Madarame's Atelier

Madarame slid the apprentice workshop door open and strode in. Yusuke looked up with those eager, dark eyes and hopped up from his creaky stool. "Sensei!"

The old artist waved him down. "Easy there, Yusuke-kun. Is Nakanohara back yet?"

The twelve-year-old's enthusiasm dissipated. "He hasn't returned"

The girl painting at the other easel snapped, "He's probably necking with his girlfriend, Sensei."

The young Yusuke tilted his head. "Necking?"

Madarame slipped his hands in his threadbare sleeves and paced to his other apprentice. "I'll have a word with him when he returns. How are the Woods of Suicide going, Rin-chan?"

She added a dark dash to finish the line on a mouth crying out in the bark. "Almost finished, Sensei."

He nodded and stood behind the chubby girl. The anguish hidden in the leaf-less woods sent a chill down his spine. He knew she mentioned The Divine Comedy reading from Kosei, but how did the freshman come up with such subtle, detailed imagery from a long-dead poet time after time? The casual ease of her latest composition in the series based on that religious poem sent a jealous gurgle through his stomach. He'd have to think of a gentler name when he presented it as his own later.

Madarame's Museum

A cone of light swept into the broad hall and Morgana shot into the narrow hall dedicated to the artist, hissing, "Hide!"

The girls shut off their gun lights and the thieves dashed into the relative darkness of the night-time museum. Another burly guard strode down the red carpet of the main hall, flashlight drifting right and left. Its pace remained at a tense march as the cognitively-wrapped Shadow came to a pair of posts at the door to another stretch of broad hall. It took something white and rectangular from its blue breast pocket and waved it at the post.

A brief beep sounded and a parallel series of red lasers flashed bright for just a moment before they vanished. The Shadow guard passed through and the lasers flashed bright for a moment, faint lines remaining now he knew where to look.

"Dammit," Akira breathed, taking his hand from his laser dot emitter. "This freak's as paranoid as Kaneshiro."

Ryuji lowered his rifle and glanced down at the team leader. "Think one'a your smoke bombs could help us get through those lasers?"

Makoto let out a disappointed huff. "If this place was realistic, any smoke dense enough to block the beams would set them off same as our bodies would. Of course, if those security lasers were realistic they wouldn't become solid beams of visible light before turning on or off, they'd just be invisible."

Morgana hopped up to the velvet rope post, the squared rod of his packed crossbow in hand. "Best to stay clear of lasers like that for now. Okay everyone, spread out and let's see what we can learn from this place."

With the darkness as it was, that led to Ryuji and Morgana following close behind Makoto while Akira shadowed Ann as they checked more portraits and placards. Ueda Hiroshi, 2014.

Ann turned off her gun-light when it began trembling. "These are all his ex-students. What the hell is wrong with him?"

He nodded. "They're all just… things to him. Things to use and profit from."

Another cone of light bobbed into the main hall and the Phantom Thieves shot into the side-halls to hide. Like the last guard, this one kept a lazy sweep with its flashlight. Its pace held a steady march until it paused at the laser checkpoint, then moved on.

Ann leaned close to the longcoated student. "I thought Madarame was supposed to have a whole bunch of styles. But all those portraits look the same. It's not at all like the exhibition."

Akira clenched his jaw. "I think the majority of those were stolen from his pupils. That creepy Woods of Sleep was originally the Woods of Suicide."

The other three thieves closed from the other end of the hall. Ryuji gave a shallow nod. "More'a them lasers that way. What's with all these names? Ain't paintings s'posed to have a title and artist?"

Makoto cringed. "I think the names are the titles, in Madarame's mind. And I think the dates on the ones which have them are the dates his students suicided."

Ryuji nodded. "Dude's for real messed up. All the names are peeps we found… you know, earlier." He fidgeted with his rifle's strap for a moment. "What I wanna know is why that Yusuke guy's keepin' mum about it. No way he don't know about it. Ya don't live with a guy an' pick up nothin'."

Makoto shot him a strained look the transfer student couldn't see clearly through the eye holes and darkness. "He did tell us he feels a life debt to Madarame for taking him in."

Morgana waved the squared rod at them. "Keep focused, everyone. So far, all of the apprentices have been… ex-pupils." He pointed to the top of the laser-posts at either side of the arch in the hallway, separating it from another straight space. "I'm sure things will be clearer if we press on." He leaped with an ease of thousands of times of practice, clearing the two meter high invisible barrier without a sign of strain.

Akira took in a deep breath, then leaped, kicked off the wall next to the lasers, and cleared the faint barrier by a hair's breadth. The others followed suit to the next hallway, extending at a ninety degree bend from their hall of entry. He followed Makoto this time as they checked the portraits and side-halls. Hirahara Ryuuta, 2012. Utada Yano, 2011.

After the next guard passed, Ann hissed to get their attention and brought the thieves to another portrait. "Takeshita Jinpachi, 2009."

Makoto came alongside Ann to read the placard next to the impressionist portrait, then look at the young man. "What are these?"

Akira held his sub-machine gun close and scrutinized the portrait. "Well painted?"

Ryuji fiddled with the strap slinging his gun over his shoulder. "I guess ya got a point, but I don't think that's what she meant." He looked at the adjoining side-hall next to the portrait. "Dude, he must'a stolen a lotta paintings."

Ann came to the next faint laser-barrier. "Looks like a different kind of room past here. Almost looks like a lobby, but there's no people." She turned back to the team leader. "What about that huge line outside?"

Morgana inspected the twin posts flanking the archway. "I think it indicates his desperation to feel wanted – even worshipped – by the many, but an unwillingness to let anything in."

Akira's gloved hands tensed, but before he had a chance to say anything, a faint electrical hum buzzed from behind them and a cone of wandering yellow light played over the floor. The Phantom Thieves fled for the side-halls and waited for the guard to pass.

Most guards maintained a brisk, no-nonsense march and the closest they came to a full sweep was casting their light on one of the portraits before moving on. This guard came to a slow walk, his cone of light shining down Misora Kotani's side-hall, then moving up to Jinpachi's. Any moment now, he'd spot Ann and Ryuji huddling in the back corner.

Akira bolted out of the hall across the way and leaped for the burly Shadow van Damme's head. His thumb brushed against something feeling like dark cloth where its head would be, and a thick mask where its face should be. "No cognitive armor for you!"

He ripped the ceramic mask off and it dissolved in his hand the same as the guards at the last two Palaces. This guard fell to its stocky knees, smoke gushing from its face and its body distending. Ann and Ryuji raised their weapons as Morgana and Makoto came to flank the shrinking monster as it took shape.

The arms diminished and the Shadow's impressive girth narrowed until it resembled a child. Ragged butterfly-like wings unfurled from its back, and after a single thrashing motion the transformation was complete. The pretty, feminine form had skin almost as dark as Panther's costume, but wore a white cheongsam which hardly reached low enough to conceal her hips.

Ann shot it in the chest with a single thwip from her suppressed pistol.

The red-skinned Shadow collapsed to the ground, its face jerking back and forth at the Phantom Thieves surrounding it, jostling the golden hair extensions giving it a twin-tailed look. "Like days of life, rain falls on the wicked as well as the weary."

Ryuji came out, rifle aimed at the red Shadow's head. "Where's the Treasure?"

It looked up at him. "Everything the great Madarame touches becomes a treasure."

Makoto growled, keeping her shotgun trained at the Shadow as well. "A special treasure. Like a locked vault?"

The Shadow in the shape of a girl sighed. "What need has the great Madarame for vaults when his greatness is for the whole world?"

When the butterfly-winged Shadow blinked up at her, Morgana sighed. "I think this Shadow is too limited to have any knowledge of the inner structure of Madarame's heart." His bright blue eyes flicked to the longcoated student. "You want this one?"

Akira looked over it, something about its resigned words reminded him of Iwai, especially in those moments after Kaoru stepped out the front door. "You want to surpass him?"

"Can what is excellent be surpassed?" the Shadow retorted, its legs curled under it and hands pressed on the floor to keep it up. "Can what is dead be brought back?"

"With the calling of a name," Akira riposted, lowering his weapon. "Let the town bury its dead, but let the living follow the living." He held out a hand. "What is your name?"

With a flutter of its wings, it rose to its feet. "I am Hua Po." It burst into black streaks which swirled into Joker's mask, knocking him a step back.

Ryuji grinned and came closer to rest his elbow on the longcoated teen's shoulder. "Nice. Thirty minutes in and we're already pickin' up new shit. An' no jump in security from gunfire 'cause of effin' cameras with mics."

Akira shrugged his friend's arm off. "We got lucky that one was vulnerable to guns." He looked to the team leader. "Any sense of the Treasure's location?"

Morgana closed his eyes and sniffed at the air. His ears twisted this way and that, like independent radar dishes. "Up and…" He turned to point his crossbow at an angle through the wall. "That way."

The Phantom Thieves followed his direction down the hall. They vaulted over another laser fence with only a small gap between the top and the cap of the curved arch to what looked like a dark lobby. Rich, navy blue carpeting stretched from wall to wall. The near and far corners held luxurious couches in red, yellow, and blue. A curving, polished gold reception desk stretched across the broad space, with a maze of velvet ropes marking out the space for a long line between the locked glass front doors and the gleaming desk.

Makoto scanned the two doorways behind the reception desk. "Damn, more of that laser fencing, but no arch to slip over top of."

A cone of light bounced around from the west wing and the thieves dove for what cover they could get from the reception desk. The burly Shadow van Damme flashed its plastic ID card at the laser grid, which flashed to inactive, it stepped through, and the grid flashed active again.

Its light wandered over the velvet-rope maze, up to the steel roller-doors, the gateway they came through, then back down and over velvet ropes to the glimmering reception desk.

Ann drew her booted foot back, trying to keep in the shadow of the less-than-meter deep desk, but four humans and a crouching catboy made for too much for the teenagers to hide.

"Intruders in the lobby!" The Shadow guard's body jerked and swelled.

All the lasers blazed a bright, steady red and an alarm blared over speakers concealed in the ceiling. The Shadow guard grew into a large, black pustule, bursting into three Shadows in record time. The flanking Shadows glistened as if wet, the curvaceous women almost as well-built as Ann, wearing clingy pale silks. Between them stood what was either a child mummy with its arms and legs chopped off, or a doll almost the size of Ann. Its face turned to the long-coated boy, no iris or schlera interrupted the inky blackness staring into Akira's soul.

The Phantom Thieves scrambled, though as close as they were which caused Makoto and Ryuji to trip over each other while trying to jump to battle. Them toppling to the ground knocked Morgana, sending his crossbow bolt sailing past one of the watery women.

Akira ran out in front with Ann as the others untangled, the model summoning Carmen as he called out Agathion and sent it at the wrapped Shadow. His lightning bolt struck true, but the Shadow stood there for an unblinking second before it turned on him.

The water sprites swung their arms, unleashing bolts of ice.

Carmen advanced to block the blows. Ann grit her teeth, but thrust out a hand. Carmen swung her whip as Kidd and Makoto on Johanna entered the fray. At least Makoto's firebolt drew the eerie black-eyed Shadow to a temporary halt.

Carmen's thorned whip lashed over the lead water sprite, but in an effort to avoid Kidd, struck Agathion.

"Joker!" Morgana shouted, hanging back with Zorro. "I think I recognize those sprites from Mementos. Hit them with lightning!"

Akira side-stepped as much as he could until the velvet rope maze, directing his Persona to float over it before zapping the leading water sprite and knocking it to the ground.

The laser barrier from the hall they came from blinked off, and another Shadow van Damme ran in.

Morgana turned to the new foe. "Dammit. Rider, Shadows coming from behind! Joker, you and the others keep on the first group!"

Lacking Morgana's backup felt unsettling, but with fewer of his friends' Personas to bump into and one weakness already identified, Akira turned his focus on the water sprites. Agathion's lightning turned the injured one into dissolving ash.

The wrapped-child-like Shadow advanced at the three Personas. Those pure black eyes fixed on Akira, and for a moment it seemed like the entire world but those eyes blinked.

The concrete walls of the Smiling Mountain Mental Institute surrounded Akira. His heart rate sped up as he looked up and down the hallway, its grey paint peeling in places. The moonlight streamed in as much as it could through the windows made of fogged, structural glass. Steel doors with remote-controlled maglocks studded one wall, the other an unbroken stretch of concrete as unyielding as his father.

"Akira!" his father's gravely voice shouted from just past the hallway corner. He stormed around the corner, a pair of burly orderlies flanking him. Their yellow gazes locked on him and they matched his quick pace. The light glinted off his father's glasses, drawing up the resemblance to a Goa'uld System Lord in the boy's mind. His long legs thundered down the hallway, mouth in a tight grimace.

Akira looked down, seeing himself still in his high-necked longcoat instead of the over-sized yellow shirt he favored while he lived at the Institute. His right hand clutched the handle of the sub-machine gun, its silencer making it look long as a sword and its dot laser wavering on the wall as his hands trembled. He braced as much as his strengthening trembling allowed and aimed the weapon at his father. Was this a dream come true?

His father's face contorted with rage, his eyes still hidden behind the reflected glare in his glasses, but his pace halted even if the orderlies didn't. "You put that toy down you imbecilic waste of carbon. You've been enough of an embarrassment to the Kurusu name."

Akira's mouth drifted open, indignant rage battering tertiary thoughts like when this was or where… someone was. Someone else? The storming feet made it hard to think, his pounding heart almost as loud in his ears He adjusted his aim to the pair of orderlies still stalking down the hall, but even bracing the sub-machine gun with his left hand, the weapon shook. The air felt too thin in his lungs. He looked left and right, then at the short stretch of hallway behind him.

Why was he looking for someone else?

The orderlies stomped closer and his red laser dot wavered over the one on the left before Akira looked back and took off running.

A shot rang out and the wrapped Shadow reared back with a roar.

Akira came to a sudden stop when he tripped in a tangle of heavy velvet ropes, dropping his gun. The room around Akira swam. Footsteps rushed around him before a final blast of concussive air went off, and when he looked up he saw Ryuji and Makoto both staring at him, Ann and Morgana checking the far gallery's barrier. "What happened?"

Makoto let her shotgun dangle on its black strap over her shoulder. "That weird handless Shadow hit you with something. Your Persona vanished and you started pointing your gun at everyone. You look like you saw a ghost."

Morgana hopped up on the reception desk, folded crossbow in hand. "Good thing you held your fire. You'd have shot Reaper if you went with your first instinct."

Akira stood from the rope maze and picked up his sub-machine gun. His heart still raced, but they didn't need to know that. "Well, I'm good to go now." It was a good thing his Metaverse costume included gloves so they couldn't see the white-knuckled grip he held his weapon with.

Morgana's mouth pursed and he looked to the others. "Everyone else still want to press on?"

Ann nodded. "Enemies hurt a lot more in the bank. I'm fine."

The leader narrowed his eyes at her. "Panther, the only hits striking your Persona were Carmen's own element. That's always going to have little impact. Just don't be reckless with the next ones. They might not be Koropokkuru."

Akira glanced around, noting the lack of pulsing alarm or blazing lasers in every doorway. "What happened to the alarm? Did it go off at the end of the fight?"

Ryuji chuffed. "As if we could get that lucky." He pointed to an open panel on the back of the lobby desk. "Byakko hotwired that to short the alarm. 'Doubt it's gonna work again, though, so let's get a move on."

The thieves followed Morgana to the west wing art gallery and followed Morgana over the faint laser barrier. More names and dates waited for them as he followed Ann and her gun-light in the dark museum. "Kondo Akari, 2010." Then to the next one. "Hata Keiichi. Huh, no date next to this one."

The pair of thieves moved on to the next placard, but Ann's gun-light froze on the portrait and she sucked in a breath. "Guys! It's that stalker guy we fought in Mementos."

Morgana read the plaque. "Natsuhiko Nakanohara. You were right, Joker. Looks like he was connected to more than Deputy Curator Kuraya Eisuke."

Makoto's gun-light wavered in her tense hands as she came closer to examine the portrait, then placard. Her jaw clenched. "I'd say this settles it. These have to be the students he's been stealing from."

Ryuji came up behind them, one hand resting on his slung rifle. "For real, we gotta change this dude's heart. He's tote messed up." The others muttered assent, and continued past another bend in the gallery hall until they came to the room with the open skylight and rope tucked behind a large portrait frame. "Aw man, we just went 'round inna big circle."

Makoto held her chin in her hand. "We did pass those doors at the lobby, but those had lasers guarding them." She looked to the team leader. "Any sense of the Treasure's location, Byakko?"

Morgana closed his eyes to breathe deep for a moment. "The Treasure is upwards from here, but it's inwards. I think these art galleries we've been through form an outer loop representing the thefts of lesser value to Madarame's mind."

Makoto growled. "I knew it. The only way in through those laser-sealed doors behind the reception desk."

Ryuji looked at the ajar panel Morgana already broke into earlier. "But Byakko already wired the security up here. If those're still on, how do we get past 'em?" He looked at the team leader. "Could smoke bombs hide us?"

Makoto shook her head. "Security lasers operate on a continuous circuit, breaking the beam would trip the alarm. We found that out by accident back there," she paused to point at the far end of the outer gallery loop. "Madarame may not be up on modern security technology, but he does understand the basic principles of physical security." She tapped a finger to her lips. "However, we may be able to refract the lasers with mirrors. I think they did it in Rififi."

Morgana peered through the laser barrier blocking the two doorways behind the reception desk, but only saw a curved hallway beyond. "Very well, Phantom Thieves. We'll call it quits today and take tomorrow to prepare."

AN: Memory being an imperfect thing, Makoto is incorrect about the title of the movie with the mirror refracting a laser detection system. Rififi is a fine movie, and fits with the crime and heist movies she mentions liking, but came before lasers were commonly known technology. It was used in Mission Impossible "The Traitor" (the TV show) and more than one movie after. In real life laser sensors are too sensitive not to be set off by the shaking of pushing a set of reflectors in the path of the beam, but cognitive reality is defined by the mind of the beholder.

The reactions of Yusuke here is more an attempt to bring him from the Yusuke in canon who threatens Ann to the one who is a cohesive member of the team for the rest of the game, because the game just dropped that whole threat. Behavior has a sort of inertia and consequences that will still need to be resolved in Daywatch. Tell me what you think.