Chapter Text
So, things are getting weird.
Like, it’s been pretty weird, considering Ryuji’s running around with the transfer student and a talking cat in a not-dream world so they can figure out who’s getting abused by the bastard who broke his leg (and who’s wearing a speedo of all things, gross) (and who also literally tried to straight up murder him). But now it’s really weird because he’s looking at. Himself.
On the bright side, Ryuji’s not in a speedo. Neither of them are. Neither of him are? It’s confusing. What he’s wearing— the other him— is Shujin’s gym uniform, which shouldn’t be that jarring, it’s just the gym uniform, he’s worn it plenty of times since the track team got shut down, but for some reason, there’s some kind of... impact.
What’s even more off-putting are his eyes. They’re a gut-wrenching yellow— same as that other Kamoshida, that can’t be good— and there’s something about them, something harsh and unkind in a way that makes Ryuji feel sort of sick; on instinct, he moves in front of the transfer student to... protect him?
(Or maybe to keep him from seeing that expression.)
“Hey,” Ryuji manages to choke out, because so far the weird cat’s been the one with all the answers. “This is one of those cognition things you were talking about, right? He’s not real, right?” And maybe it comes out a little desperate, but he’s kind of freaking out!
“It’s... this isn’t supposed to happen,” the cat says, which isn’t reassuring. “I mean, since real people aren’t supposed be in palaces, maybe— but frizzy hair already has—? It’s not...”
“Not what? What’s going on!? What is that thing!?”
“Will you shut up already?” the other him snaps. “I’m you, you’re me, mystery solved. Let’s get on with what you’re really here for.”
“What are you talking about!?”
“Revenge.”
Something in Ryuji goes cold at hearing his own voice sound so vicious. And he can’t deny that, yeah, revenge sounds pretty appealing, but the way he— the other him— says it raises all kinds of red flags. “Stop,” he tries, but he doesn’t really know what he’s trying to stop.
“This is supposed to be Kamoshida’s brain or whatever, right?” There’s a dangerous glint in those eyes as the other him stares at the ridiculous statues lining the room they’re in, at the disgustingly ornate portraits adorning the walls. “That means something’s gotta happen if you let loose and wreck the place.”
The thought of it sparks some kind of excitement, which— which isn’t something he should be excited about. “That’s not what I’m here for—“
“Yes it is!” The other him hauls Ryuji up by the collar with some kind of wild, untethered rage, he’s too close, it’s too much. “That’s how the world works! An eye for an eye! The only way to survive is to break them before they break you! Hit them hard enough and they can’t hit back!”
“Shut up!” Ryuji yells, shoving the other him away.
“How long are you going to lie to yourself! This is the only thing you know! This is you! I’m you!”
“You’re not!” Ryuji doesn’t want to hear this, he doesn’t want the transfer student to hear this, he doesn’t want the weird cat to hear this, it’s all anyone’s ever thought of him and he can’t prove them right— “You’re not me!”
And finally, finally , the other him shuts up. For one delusional second Ryuji thinks, hey, maybe this is exactly what he’s supposed to do, problem solved. Then there’s some kind of force that pushes everyone back as the other him… changes into… a zombie…?
It definitely smells like a zombie. Not that Ryuji has any personal experience with what a zombie smells like, but the air’s filled with the stench of saltwater and rotting flesh, and Ryuji feels the sting of bile rising at the back of his throat. The thing that used to be the other him is massive, wrapped in chains and shackles, leaning on a broken wooden beam to counterbalance the stump where his right leg should’ve been, and on impulse Ryuji grips his own to make sure it’s still there.
While Ryuji’s standing there like an idiot the transfer student grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him behind, rushing forward to block the first swing with a— persona? Is what the weird cat called it? The weird cat dives in too, yelling out stuff about what’s going on and what they should do but it’s all kind of getting lost in the chaos of a giant waterlogged corpse wrecking the place. Which summons some guards, but that ends up being a non-issue because those end up getting wrecked along with everything else.
It’s not even focused on attacking anyone, it’s just swinging wildly, and watching that mindless destruction is… familiar. It’s not something he wants to be familiar, but it is, and he can’t stand the epiphany that brings.
More than that, he can’t stand watching other people getting dragged into his mess. Transfer student and weird cat aren’t doing so hot, worn down by the relentless onslaught of attacks, and it looks like the zombie’s gearing up for a devastating blow while the other two are knocked on their asses, so what else can Ryuji do but rush in to block it.
Ryuji’s panting from exertion, keenly feeling the ache shooting up his leg, and just when he thinks he’s going to take a wooden beam to the face, miraculously, it stops just short.
“Enough,” he manages, once he catches his breath. Somewhere in-between, the other him turns back into the other him. “That’s enough. I know what you are. You’re a thug, a delinquent, and a destructive bastard. You’re exactly what people see when they look at me. And maybe they’re right, because... you’re me.”
At that, the other him grins. Or, the edge of his mouth tics upward in a rueful kind of confirmation.
I am thou, thou art I…
So. Shadows, thieves, treasures. It’s a lot to take in. And maybe they should talk it out somewhere other than a noodle shop, but after everything that’s happened, Ryuji’s starving. So yeah, he’s going to treat himself and the transfer student— Akira— to a bowl of noodles. It’s the least he can do after all that mess. Cats probably can’t eat noodles. He’ll get Morgana something later.
“You alright?”
Ryuji starts. Tries for a smile. Probably misses the mark. “I’m fine. Sorry I dragged that out way longer than I had to.”
“It’s not your fault,” Morgana says. He’s been weirdly nice since they’ve left the castle, way less shrill and bossy than he used to be. Guess he’s not the type to kick a guy when he’s down. “That’s how real shadows are supposed to work. They distort the part of ourselves we repress because they want to be rejected, but they only exist because they need to be acknowledged.”
“Yeah, but still… I already knew everyone saw me as a no-good thug, it shouldn’t have been that hard admitting they were right.”
“They’re not.”
It’s still kind of surprising whenever Akira offers up anything; dude’s so quiet, it’s easy to forget he’s even there.
At Ryuji’s questioning look, he shrugs. “It makes sense to get mad when people give you shit. So get mad.”
It’s probably the most he’s said at one time, and Ryuji lets out a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Akira asks.
“I dunno, it’s just unexpected. Swearing doesn’t really fit your image.”
“Shit. Ass. Fu—”
“Come on dude,” Ryuji interrupts. “There’s kids around.”
Akira raises an eyebrow, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. Yeah, he’s definitely way more of a dick than he looks.
Akira’s a weird guy. A good kind of weird. And the whole situation still kind of sucks, but… even though he’d rather not have anyone seeing his shadow shit, maybe it’s a good thing that Akira, of all people, was the one that saw his shadow shit.
Plus, now Ryuji’s got a persona, and they’ve got a way to take Kamoshida down. And that’s something to look forward to.