Chapter Text
Midnight was not a comforting time of day for Takemi. She reasoned that for most people, midnight wasn’t comforting either, but she felt a special claim on the discomfort that midnight brought about.
After all, she was running for her life at midnight more often than not.
People’s coffins did not break as often than hers, once she tried to make sure she was alone once the shadows struck. Instead, she was followed by a parade of shadows nightly. Usually, it was a series of blue masks, dipped in pools of inky black and hands poorly rising from the bottom. After that first night, there was nothing like the Mokoi in their body, and her scythe moved with ever increasing ease.
It had grown to be a tedious dance with death, a routine as she learned how to protect herself. Until this night, that is. The full moon seemed to energize the shadows, their tenebrous bodies gaining a viscousness that unsettled her.
Then they began dancing.
Perhaps they weren’t the same type of shadow that she had fought, but the mask they wore was the same. Instead, they were wrapped up in a glove, dancing fervently, aimlessly, crackling with energy. Takemi had wanted to practice that night, but her plans were quickly changed when the first of these hands had noticed her, the crackling energy solidifying to spears of ice that she barely dodged.
She attempted to call on Mokoi for protection, surefootedness even as her mind whirred and she had to dodge the shadow’s attempts to trip her with patches of frost on the ground. The bright side of this was that they had terrible aim, too eager to shoot or trip her that they also hit each other, and she could juke those stray icicles that did end up aimed for her.
She ran for what seemed like an eternity, dodging their offenses only through channeling the cursed clay doll, but blindly running through the streets wasn’t enough to get out of those shadows’ way.
By the time she had run out of breath, she was in the middle of a graveyard. Idyllic, dreary, dark, damp, dead. Dreadfully open air, leaving her all to open to the dancing hands close behind. She called upon some of the Mokkoi’s agility, swinging her scythe until it caught on the branch of a large tree, and pulling her up in the arc of momentum, depositing her on a tree branch, exhausted, covered by leaves and the darkness of night.
The hands were not far behind, nodes of frozen air hovering beside the gloves as they waltzed into the graveyard. They moved as if attached to some arm above them, uncanny in their agility that Takemi had not seen in any human hand. She clung low to the branch, tightening the grip on the reaper behind her back. A thought came to mind.
She felt the seconds tick by, the hands moving around the graveyard, Takemi unsure whether they stayed out of foolishness or if they could genuinely sense her presence. Patiently, second by second, looking as they moved.
One of the hands moved below the branch she was on, and remained there. An opportunity. Momentum swung the scythe by itself as it fell, catching on the bottom of the mask, too quick for the creature to dodge. She tugged, dragging the mask upward, the shadow struggling to fall, caught on the blade of a scythe.
Some liquid began to drip from it, and a new voice sounded from below.
To death with criminals!
Hang them, Hunt them,
Kill those animals!
More than one voice, a chorus of delicate voices. They spoke in an odd rhythm, and very differently from the comparatively crude Mokkoi’s voice. They came from the ground, so she couldn’t see them. She could, however, smell the floral scent that overtook the graveyard.
From root to sprout, under shadow of death,
We grow and shout, the guilty hand’s threat
Whether noose or tincture, let us be fed,
By the Witch that stirs the Shadow of Death.
Flowers began to emerge from the hand as it stilled, and she felt the creature go up her scythe, to which she couldn’t help but flinch.
The jerk of the scythe finally defeated the hand on her scythe, cleanly separating the mask from the glove, although instead of fading away into the shadows like it had so many times before, there was a thump of something solid inside the glove.
Ingredients for the Witch, Our gift to you, Our treat!
The mandrake firmly entered her mind as she saw the glittering flowers below where she held the hand, and she could see a silver resin on the scythe. She turned inwards, to look at the mandrake, but instead she got a twinge of vertigo.
Falling off the branch, she held her head, wondering why she had felt dizzy, before looking around.
She could quickly figure out perhaps why she got so dizzy.
Every hand in the graveyard had been wrapped by grass and vines, lying prone on the ground.
She let out a sigh of relief, before going to her grim work. She was curious what those mandrakes had meant by ingredients…
A few days later, Takemi was waiting at the door of the lab at night, cigarette in her fingers as the machines inside whirred, a centrifuge processing some of the materials she had begun to gather with the new power of the Mandrake. Shadows, upon dying, burst into some twisted life, ingredients sprouting from them unlike any of the physical materials she had in the real world.
Most of these last few days had been spent studying the properties of the materials, cataloguing them and their constituent parts, as well as a few basic reactivity tests to see how they would interact with some of her more common compounding additives. Terribly droll work, except for one element, one that didn’t sprout from the shadow.
Instead, a silvery powder formed on her blade, easy to collect with her fingers, as if responding to her intentions rather than her motions. It befuddled all the equipment, but from what she could tell from testing on herself, it was an incredibly potent medicament. A panacea, some part of her mind remembering the first words the not her voice whispered in her head: Creation. She collected the dust, hiding it underneath a false bottom of a drawer, and worked to develop easier ways to take the miraculous material.
The days weren’t much easier, wearing Mokoi’s mask whenever Ikutsuki arrived, which as he came to visit for longer and longer, meetings became tiring to keep on. As well, she had no time to rest as every time he demanded greater and greater developments, meaning she had to obsessively pour over his astonishingly shitty notes, as he seemed barely able to produce already formulated medicine, much less make any advancements. It was enough to ensure that his teeth stayed far away from her neck, but she was nearing the end of his notes. And yet, his demands did not slow down, asking her to produce some bullshit called a “Persona Suppressant” using a brand new formula, without even letting her know what the old formula was, or even being able to test it out herself!
She breathed out, watching the smoke drift up and away as she relaxed. Or attempted to. She wondered if she should have taken that kid’s advice, and avoided walking into the spider’s web in the first place.
A sound rang from her phone, and she sighed as she looked down.
Won’t be able to make it all the way to the lab. Come to this location, someone wants to meet you. Do not speak about any of the work you have done for me.
Takemi could have screamed, leaving her seat as she went into the lab, closing it down early. Who does that man think he is, bossing her around like this? She should poison his drink or something, wouldn’t that be fun. See how many shitty puns he can spit out when his mouth is bloated. From dying. Painfully. Because of her.
Her mind wandered back to those clinical trials she had run on Kurusu, missing the stress relief of them back in the day. Oh, how she didn’t expect to miss having clients.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. You are a doctor, you aren’t going to smoke another cig, nor are you going to murder a man in broad daylight. She kept a carefully measured mood as she headed to the dorm. The path was simple enough, a simple train ride and a few minutes of walking. As she entered the address Ikutsuki gave her, she was faced by a young teenager, glaring at her.
She took one look at her, before commenting, “I hope you understand no smoking is allowed within these dorms. Now, come. You and the chairman have been lax in your duties, and I would have that rectified sooner rather than later.”
There was a sense of authority that took Takemi by surprise, giving pause for a moment as she followed her. She led her up some stairs, to a room filled with computer screens that seemed rather out of place in a dorm like this. Even with her back turned towards Takemi, she couldn’t help but feel some fragment of her chilly glare go down her back as she followed. Her temper seemed to lower the temperature by a solid 2 degrees simply through her aura.
Ikutsuki sat on an armchair on the far side of the room, enjoying a cup of aromatic coffee. An extremely familiar aroma at that. He smiled at the teenager, then nodded at her.
“Ah, Ms. Kirijo, I see you’ve met with the doctor I hired. Takemi, this is Mitsuru Kirijo, heiress to the Kiriju fortune and the leader of a special unit that you will be working for. She was the one to fund the special request you submitted.” A brief pause, as he seemingly waited for the student to recall what he mentioned. “Ms. Kirijo, this is Dr. Tae Takemi, a pharmacist who is more aware of the more clandestine elements of the nightlife. Or at least, somewhat aware. I haven’t had the opportunity to clue her in beyond a shadow of a doubt.” Ikutsuki remained pleasantly neutral as he spoke, a cheeriness she had not seen since the first meeting she had with the man.
Mitsuru sat down on one end of the couch, motioning for her to sit down on one of the ottomans on the other side of the table, and in the same breath she looked at Ikutsuki. “Chairman, I hope I am not being too forward, but we both know how dangerous this line of work is. And if she isn’t well protected against shadows, we could lose a key ally in this whole deal.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve checked on her during the Dark Hour, she is well and truly sealed in a coffin. I doubt any shadows will give her undue attention. Beyond that, keeping her in the dark will protect her from any undue influence from the Dark Hour, don’t you think?”
Takemi processed what they were saying, ascribing names to the phenomena she had been witnessing. The masked voids were Shadows, she surmised, and the whole green night phenomena was called the Dark Hour. And she was in a coffin when it was completely dark? H-
“Wait, you visited my apartment outside of work hours, sir? I did not agree to having you know where I lived.” Her mind was reeling, going a thousand miles a minute as she tried to figure out what gave it away. The fact she hadn’t noticed this man had followed her. A thousand and one other problems, hidden by the leaden mask of Mokoi, solid and clay-like, unmoving without her direct conscious decision. Takemi turned to the man, who finally seemed caught in the hot seat as he squirmed under her scrutiny, Mokoi’s mask now firmly in place. If some bit of Mokoi was able to make her words resound with more severity than she could naturally portray, it went over both of their heads.
She felt distant from her body, some part of her wanting to move, shake, exclaim, any form of defense against this violation, but her body did not move, like it was weighed down, a dried doll, unresponsive.
Ikutsuki hemmed and hawed, trying to consider an excuse, while Mitsuru spoke up. “It was a reasonable precaution, in all honesty. Shadows are becoming more active, and I would like to ensure you are as safe as possible. Disappointingly, we haven’t found many ways to repel shadows other than having an active Persona user guarding them. And we don’t have enough Persona users to spare for a protection detail somewhere else.”
Takemi had no words, unsure of what to say as the two people seemed so calm over such complete breaches of privacy. As she was about to speak up, a man walked in, and they all turned to look at him.
Takemi had to school her expression as she recognized the man in his pink dress shirt, and he did the same, even if she could recognize a slight pause in Sojiro’s voice when he spoke up. “Now, forgive me for overhearing, but I can’t help but consider the fact that this dorm hasn’t been attacked in the week I’ve spent here. Now, I’m not all caught up on this Dark Hour business, but I feel quite sure she has nothing to fear, Kirijo-san.”
He lingered for a while, watching the duo’s reaction, before depositing a cup of coffee in front of Takemi. He sat down beside her, watching the other two like a hawk. Takemi glanced at him, and saw him fiddling with something under the table.
“Mr. Sakura, while I respect your insights, you haven’t been able to awaken to the Dark Hour quite yet. Any insights to the safety of the Dark Hour I would think are much less valuable than you think, considering you’ve been in the dark this long. Now, move along, this is a private meeting for the business end, nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Ikutsuki’s voice remained unusually pleasant even as he shooed Sojiro away, and Sojiro shrugged.
In that same motion, Takemi felt a piece of paper palmed into her hand, grabbing it as subtly as she could and pocketing it, hiding the motion as moving to grab the cup of coffee. “I see I’m no longer wanted here, don’t want to be a bother. Just, you realize us adults aren’t all comfortable sleeping in a student dorm every night.” As he absconded with his hands raised, he maintained the illusion of impotence, reinforcing the idea that he really couldn’t do anything too serious.
“Ms. Kirijo, let us cut to the chase. As much as I love to hear you arguing about my safety or lack thereof, you called me here for a purpose. May I assume you want to request some medicine?” Tae Takemi, attempting to draw attention away from Sojiro, interrupted the two’s debate about her living situation.
She was also curious as to what exactly would be required of her, and she wanted to see what ingredients she could squeeze out from the Kirijo group. If they needed similar medicine to Kurusu, she could get away with making some pretty potent concoctions. And if she managed to sneak some away, all the better.
She was already producing some minor pick-me-ups just to deal with the nightly barrage, being able to access every ingredient she could ever want. If they wanted to offer her even more ingredients of high quality, well. She could have quite a bit of fun with it.
Mitsuru paused, considering her response. “Well, I have to see whether you are worth it. But, since the Chairman seems to value you highly, I have faith you will be able to meet our expectations.” There was a cold professionalism to her voice, but Takemi felt a slight difference to her usual icy tone. This felt more personal, vindictive as she turned towards the window. “As we go up the tower, we find that we quickly begin to lose stamina, to the point of illness. If you can find some way to deal with the fatigue, that would do wonders in our preliminary trips to Tartarus. As well, any medicine you can make that is fast acting we’ve found to have a strong effect.” She began to list requirements, with a voice that was attempting to hide her inexperience with medicine by going into excess details. The Recov-R formula and some alterations to the IV fluid she produces should be enough.
While Takemi was taking account of the ingredients she would need, Ikutsuki spoke up. “Ms. Kirijo, I am sure that our pharmacist here already has a hard pill to swallow. Perhaps these requests can wait until she is more acclimated to the entire Dark Hour busine-”
Takemi interrupted him, turning away from Ikutsuki and looking directly at Mitsuru. “Yes, I ought to be able to handle it. Of course, the ingredients will be expensive, and so, if you don’t mind, would I be able to submit a request form for the ingredients? Or at the very least, permission to order a trial batch in order for you to test its effectiveness in the Dark Hour.”
Ikutsuki clearly wanted to ensure she was focusing only on his business, thinking she would have no time for these requests, but she couldn’t allow him to shut it down. She needed a method to keep track of the current Persona Wielders, and what better way than to measure how much medicine they take?
Mitsuru seemed a bit surprised at the sudden acceptance, before considering it. “We will be able to offer up the resources for a trial stage, but I don’t think we are able to fully staff a lab in such short notice. I believe you already have the equipment, yes? I’ll look into sending you all the research documents on physiology in the Dark Hour and Persona users, I’ll expect the trial run in two weeks.” Her voice quickly turned to the same harsh professionalism that she attempted to convey by her appearance, the authority of the company.
Takemi couldn’t help but notice a slight tick from Ikutsuki, his easy going smile beginning to slip for a second as soon as she mentioned research, and she paused to consider. His research notes had seemed incomprehensible, but at the same time, she now couldn’t help but wonder whether it was done deliberately.
The rest of the meeting devolved into the details of the production, Takemi requesting ingredients and Mitsuru nodding along to all of them. Ikutsuki began discussing how the two will meet after this time, never letting his mask slip for the rest of the meeting, not even when Takemi arranged to pick up the research directly rather than have Ikutsuki deliver it to her.
As she left the meeting, she left quickly. Ikutsuki began following behind her, looking at her.
“I wish to ensure you know, Ms Takemi, that my orders will always be the priority. Frankly, I would rather not even help the exploration of Tartarus yet, but clearly the cat is out of the bag.”
All Takemi did in response was nod, after which Ikutsuki left her alone to find the exit by herself.
Sighing as she was finally by herself, she opened the note Sojiro passed her, taking a second to read due to the rushed handwriting. “Meet us in two days at the back of the dorm, 10pm. Do not arrive near midnight.”
The night was unusually cold as Takemi walked out. There was a chill wind blowing through, leaving the streets emptier than they usually were, people not wanting to be out so late and fall ill. Even on the normally busy and full train, it was almost empty, leaving Takemi the silence needed to think over the invitation. There was a sense, even in the unusual emptiness of the area, of being watched. Takemi didn’t know who it was, but couldn’t help but worry that somehow, Ikutsuki managed to find a way to watch her.
(Ikutsuki was supposed to have been at Gekkoukan High all day, helping with onboarding and other boring administrative duties, based on what he told Takemi. Of course, Takemi never trusted anything that man said, knowing at least a fraction of the secrets that they keep. Anyone who had half a toe dipped into this Persona nonsense was lying through their teeth half the time, and Ikutsuki seemed eager to break past that average.)
She did her best to shake off the feeling, even taking a circuitous route through alleyways. She couldn’t even tell if she was just being paranoid by the time she reached the dorms, the sensation having mostly disappeared by then.
Going in from the back, Sojiro was outside, taking a smoke break. As she approached, she noticed the smoke seemed to linger, a brighter white than the usual cigarette smoke. She raised an eyebrow, voice quiet as she asked, “Smoking in front of a doctor? I would have thought you’d at least have the sense to pretend to be healthy, Sojiro.”
He flashed a smirk in return, a familiarity overcoming both of them as they remembered late nights at Leblanc back in the day. “You’re off hours, Dr. Takemi, no need for you to worry over an old man’s health. I can manage myself.” There was a familiar tone in his voice, even as he went to open the door, moving a doorstop back inside as Takemi let herself in.
“You aren’t old yet, Sojiro, and I hope that whenever you do get old, you won’t come complaining to me about back pain every other week. I am going to get old as well.” There was something enjoyable about the pettiness of the conversation, to feel so fully confident in the other person understanding the experience of traveling through time. It was something alienating, having to always keep on a certain mask even if it was for something as insignificant as distant memories.
Of course, she couldn’t help but feel on edge as Sojiro so directly referenced his age, head turning to see if there were any cameras in the room they entered. Looking like a storeroom, it was a rather small space, a few shelves lining the walls, holding crates and sacks of what, as far as Takemi could tell, were assorted shelf stable vegetables and foodstuffs. The walls were otherwise mostly bare, with the exception of a few cameras, angled down. Takemi couldn’t help but linger on the cameras, unsure of how closely they were being watched.
Sojiro, seeing how she paused mid step, followed her gaze up, eyes narrowing as he understood her hesitance. “Oh, don’t worry. I may not be as savvy as Futaba was, but I know my way around these old cameras.” A soft chuckle, a glimmer of pride before dimming to solemnity. “Don’t worry, we can speak freely here.”
The room permeated with the smell of coffee and curry, a warm familiarity to Takemi as she looked at the man, and she couldn’t help but feel herself relax as he spoke. “Well then, cheers, to having that fucking madman off my back! Did you know, I’m hiding a god damn human experimentation ring. Ohya is sure to have a field day here!”
There was something freeing, the liberty of frank honesty as Sojiro smiled, letting her vent about the ridiculous business that the Kirijo Group had managed to build in this place. Ikutsuki’s seemingly always looming presence seemed to melt away, and the smell of the room intensified.
It was a solid minute of pure ranting about the inanity of her situation before she stopped, feeling the best she had been since the day she came to the town. Sojiro, ever the patient man, sat down, letting her talk with a look of peace that came from experience. As soon as she finished, he raised an eyebrow and quipped. “You do know you’ll probably have to repeat all that to Kawakami, right? We do try to keep up to date with the daily ‘Conspiracies and Bizarre Circumstances’ section, practically my full time job since Kawakami has to keep face at the school.”
“Talking about me behind my back, Mr. Sakura? I thought you were a gentleman, if this is how we are going to be we might have to reconsider living in the same building as a bunch of teenagers, we don’t want to teach them to gossip, do we?” Kawakami came in almost silently, closing the door behind her as she grinned at the other two in the room. “Dr. Takemi, it’s good to see you. I hope you’re taking the time travel situation better than I am, I can feel my hairs graying, and I’m young right now!”
As she closed the door behind her, there was an air in the room that shifted, a twitch of motion in Sojiro’s fingers as the click of a lock echoed ever so slightly louder than it should. Takemi ignored the supernatural (or so she guessed, at first glance) sound, focusing on Kawakami’s welcoming statement. “Oh, there is some convenience in knowing medical breakthroughs before they happen. Of course, I don’t have any of that on my resume, so. One step forward another step back. More than anything it’s these stupid phones, I forgot how much of a skill it is to type on one of these.”
“God, you’re telling me!” A huff, as she crossed her arms. “I swear, it was annoying when they updated the grading software every year, but at least they were updates, not this! Getting used to this bizarre software they use here is like… Oh, you know well enough. At least it’s different.” There was a measured nature to Kawakami, even as she vented, where she attempted to portray herself as demure, restrained even in her emotions.
It was something Takemi appreciated, the ability to portray surety even when there was none to be had. Kawakami took a deep breath, before turning to Takemi. “So, tell us what’s been happening with you? I hear you’re working with the pun slinging bastard I’m paid to call my boss.”
Takemi didn’t bother to hide the bitterness as she barked out a laugh. “Crazy bastard seems to want to be a video game villain with how many half ominous statements he makes. I can barely get him off my back, and I’m the one he trusted with his child experimentation ring. I’m pretty sure he’s waiting until I start falling behind to have an excuse to kill me.”
Kawakami sighed, resigned to not liking any of what she was going to hear. Sojiro jumped in after Takemi, the embers of the cigarette that lay on his fingers deepening in glow as he took a drag. “And he doesn’t even know how to be funny, even as he constantly makes puns. Truly, an evil unlike any we have seen before.” Halfway through, he turned towards the two women, letting a smirk through.
Solemnly, both Kawakami and Takemi nodded, victims to the barrage of 1000 puns, commiserating for a moment.
“What’s this then?”
There was a pause, as a fourth voice entered the conversation. They looked around, and couldn’t find anyone around them. It wasn’t until a cat leapt onto Sojiro’s shoulders that any of them had a moment of realization, Sojiro’s eyes widening ever so slightly, turning to look at the cat.
Sojiro was the first to speak up; “M-Morgana? What are you doing here?”
Even as Kawakami began to raise her voice to question the fact that Kurusu’s cat was there, the cat spoke up. “The one and only, boss! Hey, are you doing anything else tonight?” There was a casualness to Morgana, that Takemi couldn’t quite tell if it was due to being a cat, or if it was because of something a little more dangerous.
“Frankly, we were just planning to talk the night away. Why, do you have any other plans?” Takemi answered Morgana, her eyes following the cat even as it leapt into Sojiro’s lap and extended his neck, rubbing against his shirt to ask for Sojiro to pet him.
“Well, if all you want to do is talk, I have a few people who might be interested in joining the conversation. Plus, whoever put up the wards in this place needs someone to explain how they are meant to work!” There was a quickness to his words even as he took all appearances of a languid lap cat. There was a flick of the eyes as the cat glanced back at Sojiro, but it was quick enough for Takemi to question whether she had actually seen something.
Before any of them could say anything, Morgana had stood up, stretching as he pointed to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back. “You guys all have Toshiro’s badge, right?”
Takemi automatically reached for the flimsy tin badge she had gotten, half a thought before she had left Tokyo. She kept it on her at all times, wondering when it would finally prove relevant again. It seemed Morgana was eager to please.
As the cat saw them all nod, it swished its tail, a small purr of joy coming even as it spoke in human words. “Joker knew how to pick them, I see. Come on, follow me, we have some people to meet.”
And instead of going through the door to leave the room, Morgana pawed at some boxes. They barely shifted, but a low hum seemed to emerge after a minute. Morgana proceeded to disappear behind the boxes, like a shimmer in reality.Slowly, they followed behind the cat, and as they passed behind the boxes, it felt like a gust of wind against their faces, in their blinking the world shifted.
There were flashes of other things as the gust passed them by: Waves, Cameras, a Mask, Chains, before it calmed, and they were lost in a Parisian facsimile, a world so far from their own. It was bright and quaint, fantastical in its nature. The buildings seemed almost like fondant, plain in their build and lacking a solid tangibility that she realized she unconsciously associated with reality. The cat shifted, now bipedal even as it was definitely not a human.
“Come on, you guys! I think you’ll like the meetup spot! Plus, I have to make sure you guys get back before the dark hour comes. Can’t have you getting caught!” There was a joy to the mischief as he spoke, words of much consequence being passed as if they were trifles, and Takemi couldn’t help but draw confidence from the laissez faire attitude.
The streets had some denizens, sentients hats from what she could see, but much of the place was held in a familiar dream-like fog, and if she spent a bit too long staring into that fog then she could perhaps make out a faint glimmer of the velvet blue from that first day, from the first dream, from the key she held around her neck.
She looked away, focusing on the conversation between Sojiro and Morgana, not wanting to get lost in the nature of the world.
“No Boss, I don’t know where my thumbs go in the real world, I just know I still have them.”
“You could have told me, you mangy cat. It would have saved me a bit of trouble.” Sojiro sighed with a weighiness not at all fitting a discussion about a fake cat’s imaginary thumbs or lack thereof.
Morgana laughed, not at all bothered. “Like what, old man?”
Sojiro paused, before letting out a sigh. Takemi giggled, watching the two talk for the first time with a familiarity that was unusual to see.
“Does anyone smell coffee?” Kawakami remained focused on the place around them, pausing briefly as a familiar scent brought memories that Takemi thought would not take place in a dream world like this one.
They turned the corner, and there was a familiar awning, Sojiro gasping as he saw the familiar storefront of LeBlanc in the middle of the fantastical cityscape. In a set of tables arranged neatly in front of the window, tables that definitely weren’t there in the original location considering how tight those alleyway streets were, were two men, one awfully familiar man reading the newspaper and the other leaving nothing but an awful pit in Takemi’s stomach as she looked at the man’s calm demeanor and doctor’s coat.
“Honestly, you get depressed once and suddenly the fictional economy in your head crashes. I swear, my life was so much easier when all I had to worry about was revolution. Do you think if I go to an onsen the economy could recover?” The familiar man was mild in about every way that mattered, from the milquetoast black suit to his non impressive stature to a white glove on one of his hands to the fact he was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper as if it was any other morning. Aside from the fact that he was in a realm of dream, the illusion shattered quickly with the mask he idly tapped on the table with his free hand, sharp and aggressive and personal in a way none of the ones in the velvet room had been.
“What are you asking me for? How would I know, I’m not a clinical psychologist. I do magic stuff, not money stuff.” The man in the white coat was relaxed, his clothes informal even though there was some power shimmering beneath them. In his hands, he toyed with the very fog of the world, changing it between different objects, or perhaps even between the very idea of there being an object. For a brief moment, it hung like a sun in his palms, before dissolving back to mist. Kawakami seemed to recognize this man, a gasp escaping her and interrupting the other man’s response.
“Doctor Maruki? You knew about Joker’s secret identity?” There was an openness of demeanor as she regarded the more unkempt of the two men sitting at the storefront. And Takemi couldn’t help but clock the nervousness that overtook this “Maruki’s” features as she mentioned the code name.
“Ah, I suppose you could say that. But I wasn’t on the best of terms with him, let’s just say. I’m hoping I can help on your mission, Ms Kawakami, Mr Sakura, Doctor.” There was a sheepishness, grandness of thought and imagery fading as he seemed shy.
“Yeah, we had to take him down, but I’m keeping him on the right track, don’t worry!” There was a dangerous glimmer of competence as Morgana spoke up, interrupting the reunion between school professionals. There was a glimmer in the air around Maruki as he stilled, before giving an awkward laugh. Morgana continued, “He was the one responsible for the whole weirdness after the new year, but we handled it pretty well I would say. And he has something he wants to say, isn’t that right, Maruki?”
“Ah, I hoped you wouldn’t tell them, Morgana. But alas, I guess we all have to face the music at some point. I am deeply sorry for my actions playing god after New Years. I thought it would be best to create a world free of suffering, but I shouldn’t have controlled people to manage it the way I did.” Maruki was stilted in his apology, seemingly unsure of how exactly to apologize, and Takemi wasn’t entirely sure if he actually wanted to apologize.
“Alright, whatever, Morgana, what the hell is LeBlanc doing here?! I swear to god if you did anything to the building, I will revoke your sushi rights for years as soon as we live together again!” Sojiro broke through the apology, not caring about any of it as he looked directly at his pride and joy that shouldn’t be founded for another few years, not until after he left.
The more mild mannered man spoke up, speech clipped in the way a politician often did to hide their responses. The strange thing was that his body more than expressed enough to understand the deep discomfort as he spoke, leading Takemi to wonder if there was a point to being so coy in his words. “I’m afraid the cafe is my fault, Mr Sakura. I had no other place to escape in a dark time in my life, and so in my mindscape this is the only escape to be had. My name is Toshiro Kasukabe, and I apologize for thinking about your cafe so frivolously without asking permission before.”
Sojiro’s arguments caught in his throat, resolving into a cough that had a strangled “my shop”, to only be heard by Takemi right beside him. Kawakami had the good sense to interrupt him, focusing the conversation back on the everything around them.
“So this is a mental mindscape. Is that why we were told to get your political pins, so we could escape to this place if shadows attacked or we were almost discovered? But at the same time, this place always sounded much more dangerous based on Kurusu’s stories…” She was attempting to sound more casual about the wording, but Takemi had to stop her eyes from widening as Kawakami repeated something she had glossed over.
They were in the mental world right now, in front of the self admitted ruler of the area. Kurusu and his friends had always been light on details about the place, but they had heard the fragments of their stories whenever Kurusu and his motley crew discussed in hushed tones or indulged in a shared in-joke. None of them inspired confidence in the safety of this world, not the jokes of scars faded with magic or the references to certain Personas the Phantom Thieves found “spooky” and any listening bystander would quickly determine to spell certain doom if that bystander were to encounter it.
The scythe appeared in Takemi’s hand, flashing silver in the light, fear subsiding by the experience of danger every night, but Toshiro seemed to catch on, standing up at the sight of the scythe. “You don’t have to worry about any stray threats, this is my mind. I am keeping it spotless and clean while I am in this city, considering I want to avoid apathy syndrome. So please, don’t wave around that scythe please!”
There was an edge to his voice, a tinge of absolute terror, while his body readied for something, gripping the mask until his fingers were almost white with tension. Takemi narrowed her eyes, before retracting the scythe back to a ring. “And why should I trust you? Last I heard, having any sort of mental space like this implies many very dangerous things about you.”
“It wasn’t my fault, I swear! The concept of safety and desire to live built this whole place, it's not on me! I made sure to pass over it and clear up any threats, please believe me!” Toshiro seemed to be much more emotive when he was stressed out, another thing to consider bizarre in a political candidate. Takemi narrowed her eyes, but was unable to hold the sense of suspicion as the scent of Sojiro’s curry began to pervade the air.
“Come on in, might as well eat while we wait for the rest. I assume you have to leave to find them, Morgana? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we don’t kill each other or something stupid.” There was a familiarity that Takemi hadn’t considered before, and even on the ground she could see a border of light begin to form as it seemed that Sojiro cast some spell with the coffee.
“Yeah, yeah! Don’t worry! It’ll be quick, most of you are gathering in the city for some reason. See ya soon, boss!” Morgana quickly scampered off, leaving them alone in the cafe. Kawakami decided to take the opportunity to talk to the two men, while Takemi sat back, watching the three closely.
“So, how long have you been aware?” She maintained a mild manner, even as she narrowed her eyes towards the two men. “And why weren’t you there in the velvet room last time?”
Maruki responded, with Toshiro seeming bemused by the question. “I can’t say for sure, but I would guess it has to do with us already having Personas. Mine might not be fully manifested after I fought the Phantom Thieves, but I still have some form of it. We were normal enough to slip unregarded.” Toshiro hopped in, his eyes widening with a realization. “They probably sensed the residual essence of Samael in my mind, which would be why they might have mentioned me before, if what Morgana said was true.”
Kawakami nodded, a grave look on her face. “I understand nothing about this. I think I’ll ask the weird little girl whenever she appears, if she appears.” A look of discomfort passed from the disorderly to the suited, and Takemi pressed without hesitation. “Are you afraid of little girls of some sort?”
Toshiro responded for the both of them, “Yes. Absolutely. I only got a cursory inspection of my good will, but she had to scare Mr. Maruki here to ensure he wouldn’t… fall into old habits. As I have been told, she is very scary when she wants to be. However, I do commend Lavenza’s timeliness.” There was a genuine admiration in his voice that tempered the fear, and Takemi decided that she had to begin trusting that bizarre little girl perhaps a little less.
“It is rude to speak of a Lady behind her back, Doctor. Plus, I am not little!” Speak of the devil, Lavenza appeared. Takemi laughed, trying to play off the slight offense, even as her heartbeat hammered a primal fear into her mind like she had faced the face of death. The minor irritation of this gir- the Lady so great.
Kawakami responded. “Ah, Lavenza, we hadn’t expected you. Has Morgana come back already?” She attempted to be polite, congenial manner expressing itself as welcoming as one could be, and Takemi internally thanked her for her stalwart nature.
“Ah, Te- wait. Humans are not concepts, you should remember this, Lavenza. Miss Kawakami, it is good to see you. I was allowed to come early in order to better acclimate with people, before all of the Confidants arrive. It is good to see you in good health, Doctor, Toshiro, Counselor. I am afraid Morgana is still gathering our companions.”
There was a breezy confidence that wasn’t there before, a sense of experience that fascinated Takemi as she looked at the force dressed in blue. Even her mere presence was sufficient to alter the space around them, a glitch from the TV speakers before playing the song that they had all heard in that smoky room before. Takemi smiled as she answered, swallowing the fear she had felt. “It seems you are our foremost expert on the issue of cognitions, Lady Lavenza. If you wouldn’t mind, why are we meeting here? Small talk, before the rest of our party arrives.”
Lavenza slowly sat up on a stool, letting silence linger over the cafe as they all waited for her to respond. After finally reaching the seat and getting comfortable in it, she turned to look at the party. “I’m sure you could make a guess, Doctor Takemi. You are, after all, the most connected to the problem.”
And suddenly her mind saw that sickly green moon, large and watchful and dangerous in a way she failed to describe. She thought about the gleam of her scythe, or more particularly, the lack of a gleam. The crescent blade seemed to move in its own darkness, and whenever she called upon her powers, the moonlight did not touch her skin.
“Is this place separate from the green moon?” The question came out even as she still considered it in her mind, intuition emerging even as she could feel the loose ends snap into crystal clarity.
“The Dark Hour, if you want to be technical about the name. Technically, it is the same moon as what we normally see, it just pays a bit more attention to the earth than normal. But yes, we meet because cognition is outside of her immediate reach. Beyond that, Toshiro’s mind is incredibly resistant to her encroaching touch, with Samael’s essence being antithetical to Her. Thus, we can create a safe place to enter the Velvet Room within this space. Usually, the key would be enough, but usualties are in short supply these days.”
She paused with a smile, a dramatic pause. “It is the end of the world, after all.”
A cough, as Sojiro choked on the curry out of shock. The other adults in the room echoed the sentiment, even as Toshiro responded. “B-But we stopped it, didn’t we? I mean. I think this is still the world we were on, and since we’re alive in the future, then the world didn’t end, so how can this be the end of the world?”
Toshiro couldn’t help but let anxiety creep into his every word, his fearful expression in sharp contrast to Lavenza’s apparent tranquility, as she looked over the counter. “Are you ok, Boss? Did something happen?”
“I’m fine, Lavenza, answer the question, please. And try to be more careful, I have a delicate constitution at my old age.”
Lavenza paused, muttering to herself. “I don’t remember the hierophant having a particularly poor constitution, I would expect more strength from a godslayer.” She then turned back to face the rest of the cafe. “It is the end of the world, because you all are trying to stop the way it didn’t end the last time.” She paused. “Plus, why would you agree to travel through time if not for the end of the world? Honestly, you all ought to have been better braced.”
There was a look of disappointment as she sighed, before turning to Sojiro. “Forgive me if you still haven’t recovered, but is this the point in time where I am meant to demand food? My memories of how this was done are faint, I’m afraid.” And for the first time, Lavenza fell on the back foot, a withering glare from Sojiro silencing her. “I’ll tell you when it’s good and ready, don’t you start annoying me while I’m simmering.”
As Lavenza hesitated, the soft chime of the welcome bell resounded through the shop, two new faces in the doorway: Ohya, with exaggerated swagger and sharp eyes, and behind her was Iwai, whose grave face seemed to offset the mischief in the other’s curled lips.
Without missing a beat, Ohya continued the conversation with a devil may care attitude before even stepping into the cafe, pressing Lavenza. “Hey, you’re the one who knows more than us, why should we bother answering your questions?” She was followed by Iwai, who loomed ominously behind her, whether from habit or not to be seen. “For example, why the fuck did a cute reporter on the straight and narrow get the god damn Devil?! I am not that annoying!”
She strode on in, sitting opposite Takemi in the booth she had sat at. As if to emphasize the point, a dark red mask with horns curling above her head hung loosely on the side of her head. Iwai sat down at the booth far away from Lavenza, before retorting. “You are that annoying. Take it from the guy who just had to walk here with you.”
Ohya snorted, dismissing Iwai with a wave of her hand, turning to Sojiro. “Have any coffee, bossman? And I guess, while I’m on the topic, how did you get a coffeeshop?”
Sojiro cocked an eyebrow at Ohya. “I’ve owned a coffee shop for the better part of twenty years. Why wouldn’t I have a coffee shop?”
She just laughed, grinning at him. “Well, we are in the past, gone back the better part of 20 years I would say. Also, we aren’t in the city you had it, also also, we are in a mental hellscape? That enough qualifiers to make it weird, Chief?” Sojiro smiled, glad to be reminded of Ohya’s quickness and wit, often obscured especially as she conducted interviews. She played them down, but just often enough she made astute observations that merit attention. “I’ve missed you.” Sojiro’s face regained it’s trademark grin, before steeling itself with a touch of sterness. “I’ll give you some coffee, on the house, as long as you don’t remind me where we are.”
“Ahem.” Lavenza didn’t speak particularly loudly, but it felt like all of their attention was dragged back onto her.
“The reason you were given the Devil Arcana is quite simple, reporter. You are someone who has to be keenly aware of the many people who sinned, and had long ago given up, broken by society. You had seen the face of the devil yourself, and tempered the Trickster to be ready to face it.”
There was silence in the room as Lavenza suddenly dipped the conversation to serious topics, a half serious question given too much of an answer. Kawakami strained a smile on her face, as she tried to alleviate the mood quickly. “I mean, you also are always talking about grabbing corruption by the balls, Ohya. Is it that much of a surprise that side of yours was chosen?”
Ohya, catching onto Kawakami’s attempts to lighten the mood, blew an exaggerated raspberry. “Fine! I GUESS I’ll be the devil. It is useful to be able to know what people feel guilty about, but like, Come on! Iwai is right there, and he doesn’t even get a cool power yet. He’d do great as the devil.” She stood up as tall as she could, trying to make herself appear big as she spoke in a raspy approximation of a husky voice, “Want to make a deal, bitch? I lived through hell and I can drag you through it.”
Iwai barked out a laugh, before suddenly glaring at her. “Sit yer ass down, Ohya.” He let a grin come through, before pitching his voice up and batting his eyelashes in an overexaggerated manner. “Me, do anything wrong? Threaten me with a good time and I’ll pin at least 3 unsolved controversies on you, now where's my drink?”
The gathered confidants all laughed at the impressively bad impressions, eventually calming down by the time that Sojiro had finished their coffee.
Lavenza still seemed confused, before Kawakami whispered in her ear, noticing the confused look. “We aren’t really looking to take anything too seriously, not yet. It has been stressful since the whole…everything, so we just want to relax without worrying about making sure it all makes sense. It’s important to relax, especially in a familiar place.”
Ohya, meanwhile, swept the rest of the conversation along, having not managed to see any of them beforehand. “Actually, while we’re on the topic of the metric FUCK ton of insanity from the powers that be, I gotta ask. Why do we not get cool clothes here?! I’m tired of washing the bloodstains from the Dark Hour, anyone managed to get some of those costumes?”
Takemi smirked. “May not have a cool costume, but I managed to get a scythe. That cool enough for you, Ohya?”
Ohya paused, considering it, while Iwai interrupted. “You know how to swing a scythe around, Takemi? Didn’t take you for a farmer or a cosplayer.” He leaned forward, curious as to her response as someone who had once supplied weapons.
Takemi stared him down, before sighing in exaggerated defeat. “Well, to be honest, I got a little thing that helps me swing it around. Mokoi, if any of you have any idea of what that is.” She turned the ring, letting the scythe come out. “Found it while dealing with a few shadows that found me when I first woke up.”
Lavenza returned to the conversation, now with renewed interest. “You managed to find a Persona? But you don’t have the wildcard…could you show us?” She sat up, at attention and putting on a professional face.
Takemi considered it, before shaking her head. “Maybe not Mokoi, but I got another one later. Uhh…I don’t know exactly how to show it, admittedly.” She could feel the aspect of Mandrake at her fingertips, but was suddenly self conscious of her lack of awareness regarding how to use it. She had some instinct of how it worked, but it suddenly felt like she lacked experience.
Awkwardly, she bent down, focusing on the feeling she got from Mandrake and trying to…hm. She supposed she was trying to sprout something, since that seemed to be what Mandrake was good at. She felt something shift near the floor, before a spindly little branch began to reach up from below the wooden boards.
Lavenza was all of a sudden too close to Takemi for comfort, pulling her face up to look into her eyes. “Interesting. Not quite a Persona, but drawing on a more specific form of the Arcana’s power. You had two, you said? How did you find them in the first place?”
There was something beside just her hand, touching at Takemi’s soul. Like she was a scroll being read, she could feel some of herself be laid bare in front of this girl. When she spoke, it came almost without thought. “I cut down a shadow, and your voice rang in my head. The power to transform destruction to creation or something. A shadow blob with a mask got caught on the scythe, and when I took off its mask it began talking to me.” Takemi began to feel the words spill unbidden, like they were pulled along with her attention towards the bizarre girl’s gaze. “Mandrake was different, instead seeming to already be in the world. I was running from these bizarre shadows, and then it seemed to just be there, like I had been wearing the mask for the whole night, before it became suffocating.”
The memory was weird as she thought about it. The shadows that night had been a bit more clever than the usual ones, running away towards a graveyard. She had figured they would be good practice, considering they were flying enemies, but then she had felt her eye drawn to the plant.
“Hmmm. News for my master, when the last of you arrive. But a useful tool for your journey, one you should all attempt to cultivate. You already are drawing from too deep a well, may as well find channels for the water to flow.”
Sojiro was the one who spoke up. “Yeah, easy for you to say, she has the scythe with magic powers. You gave me a book, I can’t kill Shadows with a book, Lavenza. Plus, my fancy magic words were about ‘master of hearth and home’, can I even do anything with that?”
All the other people seemed to have similar feelings, varying levels of ‘I don’t have a weapon’ going unspoken. Meanwhile, Ohya gasped in false outrage, “You guys got equipment, all I got is this pointy mask! Itchy, uncomfortable, can’t take it off without feeling like it's looking at me funny. Don’t even have it outside. What does a girl need to do to get some powers here!”
The two Persona users in the room at least had the gall to look awkward, with Toshiro awkwardly coughing as he tried to hide the metal mask in his hand. Ohya, all too incensed, turned to look at him. “Oh I see, the politician gets special powers. Just you wait, I’ll find a corruption scandal you’re involved in, just for this.”
Ohya paused for a moment.
“Hey Sojiro, why is a high ranking politician and Prime Minister candidate in the same room as me with magic powers? Did I miss a memo or something?”
Sojiro shrugged, the only response he could have leaving his mouth. “Kid kept odd company. He talked about knowing a cop with magic powers, a politician isn’t much crazier.”
She considered the answer, before being interrupted by another voice.
“I hope he didn’t give you any police secrets, Sakura-san. I happen to know that man, and frankly, I expect I’ll act as his lawyer all too often.” Unlike Ohya, Sae Nijima wore the golden mask with dignity, eyes not quite spaced for a human face. The mask did not cover her full face, but rose high above it with a crest of flames like wings, looking almost like a halo for the young woman.
Morgana jumped off her shoulder, stretching as Chihaya followed Sae into the cafe’s lively atmosphere. Lavenza, seeing Morgana stay in the room, stood up. “May I assume this is everyone that is coming, Magician? My master is ready to receive the guests.”
Takemi noticed Morgana gave a subtle little nod, before Lavenza stood up. The key hanging around her neck seemed to buzz, cooling as the attendant moved toward the front door. For a second, it disappeared, and she could see everyone else in the room react, reaching toward some pocket or part of their clothes.
Deep blue steel appeared in her hand, bending the space around it as she put it into the entrance to the store, and the light streaming through the windows was cut by the descent of thick velvet curtains. The light pastels that seemed to be the very air they breathed were cut off by thick fog, rich with the scent of incense. The walls of the coffeeshop fell away, leather seats turning blue as the Velvet Room expanded below the attendant.
The floor of Leblanc had become a small alcove, not quite a stage but a nook in the back of the room, separated by a handful of steps, no more than 20 cm. The rest of the room was rich blue, the hallmarks of luxury dripping from every decoration. The couches had been moved, less centralized and now easier to split off into their own groups. There was a few other alcoves along the edges of the room, from one where what appeared to be a painter was, relaxing beside his easel, staring down the newcomers. In another, the blindfolded person that had given Takemi the key before she first awoke in this new world, playing the piano alongside a woman who was seated beside the piano, dressed like the great jazz singers of America.
In the center of the room, sitting at a richly ornate desk, was the man who moved like a marionette. Igor smiled kindly at them, but even the lack of malice was not enough to rest the offputting appearance of his face. Not quite inhuman, but certainly not human with the long nose that dominated his face. He gestured for them to come closer, Lavenza taking the lead as she took her place beside her master.
“Welcome to the Velvet Room once again, dear visitors. Pray forgive my discourtesy the last time we met, I hope we can move past that.” There were shades of remorse in his voice, as if asking for forgiveness for being so rude. Most of the people in the room moved towards the man, curious as to what exactly he would say. Sojiro, suspicious, kept his distance, staying away from the old man and instead focusing back on the pot of coffee he was brewing, wary. Takemi followed his example.
As the air in the room shifted, Takemi felt the ring shift in her hand, the familiar scythe taking its place like it had every night. She could see similar things happen, items being pulled out of the ether in the room.
What felt different was the jangling of metal on her neck, and as she looked down to see, fine metal chains had begun to hang from her, with two dog tags hanging around her fingers. She raised them to her face, and could catch the faces of those beings she had contracted in the reflection of the dark metal.
“Tae Takemi, if you wouldn’t mind coming forward? You as well, Devil and Justice. Let us forge a contract anew, and allow me the pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Takemi raised an eyebrow, as the two masked women approached Igor, with Takemi far behind. Figuring that he probably wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.
All too quickly, so quick that all Takemi saw was the briefest movement on Lavenza’s dress, as if a breeze had blown past, the two masks they wore were taken, crushed with little fanfare, remade into tools like those of the rest of them. Lavenza then handed Ohya a deep red pentacle, and to Sae she handed a trumpet, flag, sword thing that Takemi had a hard time describing easily.
Ohya paused midstep, reaching around for the place where the mask used to be, before turning to Lavenza. “Hey, I might have wanted to keep wearing that! It looked cool, damnit!”
Lavenza raised an eyebrow, but Igor cut her off before she could comment. “I am sure that one that is sure to be as gifted in illusions as you will be able to make it work. We have only ensured that control of your power is in your hands, and nothing else.” He waved them off, something Takemi thought was to be a dismissal before seeing the faint blue butterflies fly from his gloved hands, a chain being created between them and Lavenza.
His eyes then turned to Takemi, big and bloodshot, and her mind froze. “Now, Ms. Takemi, I believe you have some new facet of your power, correct? Would you mind allowing me to inspect it?” Takemi hesitated, not by the request, but by how naturally it came to her to comply. Did she really want to trust this old man so readily?
But there was no reason not to do it, and so she reached for the chains, ready to begin untangling them from her clothes. However, they peeled away easily, forming a simple chain loop with the two dog tags clinking in the light, reflecting less light than they should.
She moved to place them on the desk, but was interrupted by Igor moving to inspect them while they were still in her hand. He never reached to touch them, only looking at them with unexpected scrutiny. Lavenza, kindly, pulled out a chair, letting Takemi sit while he took his sweet time to draw a conclusion.
He nodded, smiling. “How fortuitous, that the Nameless Arcana should prove itself so versatile as to provide the cure. What has occurred may be a tad bit more difficult for the rest of you, but very possible.” Halfway through his gentle voice began to project outward to everyone else in the room, never quite being rude or loud, but Takemi could tell it traveled further.
Kawakami was the one who raised a question first. “Then I assume I don’t have to beat up the monsters that lurk in the dark? Because I very much would like not to have to do that.”
Takemi turned around, moving away from the man as she put the chain back on her arm. She saw the links grow, tangling around her arm until they hung like they had before, comfortable despite themselves. Igor answered behind her.
“Likely not.” Igor motioned for Lavenza with that practiced poise like that of a butler. The room shifted, some intangible aspect of the space turning even if none of the people could see what exactly occurred, other than the appearance of a thick tome, larger than any book Takemi had seen before. The compendium with little input from Lavenza. A curl of Igor’s thin finger, and two pages seemed to levitate off the book, smoke curling around them as they approached Igor’s desk, solidifying into the image of two creatures that looked very familiar to Takemi. “These…animating archetypes you have. You are all fonts of the symbolism of your arcana, so potent as to manifest it in reality, absent of our guidance, a rare ability indeed. By emulating some aspect of their story, by telling their story, so to speak, you are able to summon them forth, like attracted to like.”
His gloved hand hovered over the clay doll first. “Mokoi, a hunting spirit, one that punishes dark magic through the shadows of night. Something not all too dissimilar from hunting shadows at night, one could say. And through this resonance, the rest of the spirit was called, a story in totality.” Moving towards the second figure. “The root that grows on the graves of those deemed guilty, found upon executing shadows upon the graves of men.”
Lavenza nodded, considering the book. “This compendium I wield has the list of all those stories you can animate, to create what we shall call…an animi. An aspect of the collective unconscious, animated for your use. Yes, that sounds right.”
Igor nodded to Lavenza. “However, I am unable to leave this room by compact, so my aid will be limited. I, however, can offer protection. Due to your…unique situation, let us say, you have all awoken to a spirit of rebellion, even if drowned in the greater truths of the world. While I cannot grant you Personas, I can certainly grant you the protection of a Rebel. And as Lavenza here has so kindly offered, she will be able to guide you more directly, to tame those strange powers that operate against you.”
He grinned, continuing his words. “However, this room is one to allow you to find your strength, so do not expect us to provide every solution. Now please, make yourselves comfortable, there is still much time before the Dark Hour.”
The room stayed quiet for a moment, looking at him, unsure of whether or not they had permission to talk while he remained eerily still, before Morgana coughed.
They all turned to look at the now very much NOT a normal looking cat, although there were enough catlike qualities to convince them it was the same cat they all knew. He was standing on the back of one of the couches, impatient with crossed arms as he looked around. “Can we stop with all this power mambo jumbo and get to what we actually need to do? You guys have two, maybe three persona users here if I can wrangle up Zenkichi soon. You can mess around with your powers, but you have plenty of firepower for now.”
Toshiro was the one who spoke up, sitting at the edges of the room. “Wouldn’t that be four, counting you?”
Morgana sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “I have other things to do, plus. I’m not gonna leave Joker alone without me by his side, he won’t be able to get a night's rest. What I will do, however, is discuss strategy. I’ll also drop by from time to time, but first I need to know what the playing field is like. If we are going to be real phantom thieves, we can’t go in blind. Rule number 3.”
“Theres rules to this? All Akira talked about was sticking it to the man. Boo! Boo I say! You were there, you mangy cat, don’t act like this is a surprise!” Unsurprisingly, Ohya took up a place in the peanut gallery, speaking up from the stool in the bit of Leblanc that remained. “Plus, its all really rather simple. Rich people blow up an island, people go insane, I’m like 90% sure there’s something hanky happening at the orphanages, and no one does anything because the rich people are. Well, rich.”
Morgana glares at Ohya, who shrugs in that all too calm demeanor. She was right, but totally unhelpful for any sort of plan. Takemi took the opportunity to interrupt. “I can tell you the guy who is running the child experimentation ring, and I can even tell you what for. Shuji Ikutsuki, chairman of a dorm, school, city and the shitty pun convention. I don’t know how many people there are, but he used children in some Persona experimentation. I am pretty sure, I’m making Persona suppressants for approximately 5 people. I don’t know who is taking them, other than one person. Sho Minazuki, a soon to be persona user he keeps in a basement, I’m in charge of keeping him alive enough to use a persona. Sadly, an annoying teenager.”
“See, Ohya, this is the type of intel I can use. A mark, a victim, details. I’m trying to plan a heist, not film a documentary.” Morgana moves over to Takemi, grinning on his face, before pausing. “You guys should figure out your codenames soon. It feels weird to use real names in the Metaverse, Dark Hour, whatever this is.” At the vacant stares he received, he sighed, before continuing. “Anything else we know about this Ikutsuki person?”
Kawakami spoke up, sipping on a cup of coffee that Sojiro had handed her silently. “He also has some level of control over the people we figure are the current persona users, the students at the Iwatodai Dorm. Sojiro and I managed to get in as caretakers of the dorm, but I think Sojiro also has access to some government documents about this whole thing. It could be that the students are the ones being fed persona suppressants, but I doubt it since he isn’t around enough to enforce them taking any pills.” She mulled on her thoughts for a second. “He does have a lot of very high tech surveillance in the dorm, and he seems to be getting funding from the Kirijo Group, but I couldn’t tell you how much. The school, however, is just as typically shitty as any other school I’ve gone to. They are competitive in the extracurriculars, but they aren’t in the headlines.”
Morgana nodded, considering the news. Ohya, however, was the first to speak up. “I think right now, we can’t really make a cohesive plan. We don’t have enough information, and especially considering that we probably will be trying to work with this animi bullshit. We have a target, we have a few leads, but nowhere near enough to do anything in the real world, and I don’t think we are anywhere near being able to do stuff in this dark hour. Most we’ll do is mooch off of the metal mask duo over there and maybe die.”
Morgana glared at her. “We should still have a coordinated effort of the people who are here, to try and find out more information. For example, Ohya, you or Iwai can start looking at the back alley deals, and figure out who is getting Takemi’s new compound. If there are people who need persona suppressants, it means there are people with personas to begin with. In the dark hour, you can coordinate with Lavenza to sort out getting a few animi, but I don’t know very well how the arcana works myself. Can’t do everything myself, after all.”
“What are you even doing, Morgana? You say ‘we’, and yet I didn’t quite catch what you were offering to do.” Takemi raises an eyebrow at the cat, focusing on those tangible aspects she could understand. She could understand espionage, much easier than the animi or whatever that was.
Morgana grinned at her, with no shame in his voice. “Who said I’m staying? Joker is bound to get in trouble without moi by his side, especially out in the countryside? Don’t worry, I’ll check in from time to time. Get Lavenza to pass a message if you need anything.” Takemi almost couldn’t believe the barefaced audacity of the cat, if not for the fact that they were a cat and that made it all make sense.
Sojiro, however, looked genuinely hurt, his soft spot for the cat showing. He always was a bleeding heart. Morgana turned to look at him, a glance that clearly meant later, before turning to the rest of the people in the room.
“You guys should probably also figure out how you guys will communicate with each other outside of here. It will probably be important for you guys to stick together when possible, as well as knowing where you guys are during the dark hour. If it's anything like the metaverse, your phones won’t work, and you have no navigator to help manage communications.”
Takemi glanced at Kawakami, who had ever so slightly turned her head towards Takemi. Quietly, she answered the unspoken question. “No, I am not moving into that dorm, I value having an apartment too much. I’ll pass you a spare key and address back in the real world.”
The slightest of shrugs, as the gathered people dissolved into small conversations, spoken over the smell of curry coming from the kitchen. Takemi smiled, a reminder. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a home, she just didn’t have her old home.
She stayed at the dorm, waiting for midnight in that storage room, kept safe from prying eyes while the clock ticked ever so slowly. The world stopped, and she worried, worried that she was going to be stuck in this coffin, that someone would discover her, all the little anxieties rising in her chest.
After a few minutes, with a sound like that of a calm creek, Kawakami spoke some words too quietly for Takemi to hear. Settling all those anxieties, she smiled, walking out of the coffin, free to enjoy the green midnight.
So when Sojiro stood on the steps, watching the shadows that had come closer to them, and asked “What now?”, even in the alien air, the answer came easily to her.
She could easily see these people becoming her new home.
“We move forward. You got that book from Lavenza, right? Let's see if we can’t get you some of this animi bullshit.”