Chapter Text
Even before the fiasco of his high school life, Minato Arisato knew that his early years had been vibrant and full of life. He could still remember excitement brewing inside of his being when school started, or the warmth that belonged to his family as they cherish him like a treasure sent from heaven. He could also vividly remember the life that was so long ago, a part of him so distant that it might have been his other life instead of his childhood, that he was a child—an innocent soul—in the midst of society, living happily with his normal family.
Sometimes he could not remember the later years after the death of his parents; everything felt like blur of shades and grey and emptiness. He did not remember exactly when indifference had turned his world into shades of grey. Perhaps he changed when every time a person looked at him, there would be traces of pity, and with that attitude, made him feel more comfortable alone than together. He was, after all, a shy person at heart.
Maybe it was such quality that worsened his apathy.
To say that his life after the turning point of his life is silent, however, contradicted the music that had hummed inside of him even before his happy family ended. His eyes might see greys, his feelings denied thrill, but the music clung like grime; a memento of his past self, now designated only to blast and burn as he tried to remind himself of the adventure and the fear. But the music inside him slowly faded, and he was never sure what caused it in the first place. Instead, he was left to fill himself with music that were not his own (hence the loud earphones), as long as they provided other flavors, other sense, other personalities, other sensations—anything to purge this blank feeling.
Of all songs, Gymnopédie never failed to stir something inside him—a song that blended spitefully beautiful with impressions of blue (...or was it yellow? He cannot recall) butterfly wings, and still felt right but empty. It was a flutter of hopeful thing in the onslaught of coming storm.
As death silently crept behind them (he and his team; he was never alone in this), however, Minato began to remember of those sensations—the one he had lost, the meaning of being a lively child of eight years old—like a warmth grace of sunlight in the middle of cloudy days. Along with that sensation came sliver flutter of butterfly wings, but the memory beyond that remained amiss; trying to remember was like grasping fallen leafs in flowing water.
He decided to ignore it for the time being. They still had death to deal with.
It was January 20 during the dark hour that he felt the sensation intensified.
Not in a weird sense; for Minato, it was more like stronger—but still subtle enough to be missed—flutter of butterfly wings, similar to what he had experienced ever since the year started. The feeling also came with several snapshots of him and his family and various things about himself... and other people. There were also impressions of times when he played with his friends or seeing masks and playing taps.
His mind continued to wander, trying to figure whatever this feeling means. It went on frequently enough that his friends got worried. He noticed, of course, so that every time they cast a long glance at him, Minato would simply smile and say that he was fine. His friends would naturally ask again, and Minato would reply back with either teasing smirks (to the girls, of whom they replied back with interesting expressions) or simply replayed his words (to the boys, because only girls deserve that). Most would nod, some would actually pester him back (Yukari is a perfect example of that). But Minato never missed the unsaid questions of his fellow shadow fighters either; how are you? Are you okay? We're scared, but so were you, right?
No one can stop an immortal goddess, right?
When they got back to their own chores, Minato gritted his teeth in frustration. He was not going to let his world reverted to greys and empty anymore. He was ready to fight tooth and nail to defend it (his school, his friends, his new family, and his bonds).
"You doing okay bro?”
Of all persons, Minato was surprised that Junpei was the first to ask his condition. To make matters worse, he was the one initiating the discussion in the first place, though Minato greatly valued his concern. But in a class where one’s teacher could jinx you to be a plant in the next life, it would be better to not act on it at all. Minato let a small nod, though, and let his best friend knew that he’s okay. Junpei grinned back.
“Man, I just wish the class would end sooner, you know? Why do we even have to learn magic, here? I mean, we did it so frequently that I thought we should earn credits in his class or something.”
Minato managed to hide his snort; always count on the magician to make the lightest joke out of terrible situation.
“But seriously dude, are you really okay?”
Minato did not reply as quick, since he thought Ekoda’s attention was still on him (he did fall asleep during their previous session, really). When he was sure that they were clear, Minato whispered, “just a feeling I have. Need some times to sort things together.”
“…simply said, you are daydreaming.”
Minato sighed in exasperation. “It’s not as simple as that, Junpei.”
“Whoa-whoa, I got it, it’s important for you. Sorry, sorry,” he quickly interjected, “I thought you are still worried with… you know…” Junpei scratched his head, a little bit unsure and worried himself. But when one was faced with the truth that death will descend on them in the last day of January, perhaps it was normal to have such expression.
“I guess there is no other way that to beat Nyx down, so you'll have plenty of time to daydream,” Junpei finally continued, which made Minato want to yell and protest, because there is no way he’s doing this just for the sake of daydreaming. Junpei seemed to read his thoughts, though.
“Kidding, dude. Invincible or not, we're gonna beat her and seize the day like heroes do.”
Minato blinked at the response and smiled; It was always refreshing to see this side of Junpei, rather than the pessimism shroud by light-hearted comedy—an attempt to stave off his sense of insecurity (and he still could not believe Junpei to actually have that issue towards himself, of all things). Optimism always suited Junpei better than jealousy, even though he could sense the fear and doubt still lingered lightly. But that's the point of being friends and comrade-in arms, wasn’t it? Wasn't it to support each other during this crisis and hold on to sliver of hope, even when there was none?
The whole despairing situation was okay for him, really, because he was not alone to put on a brave face as time marched on.
The images in his dreams were getting more vivid as judgment day approached, but it was still near impossible to piece together and link each image to another. Minato was sure of one thing, though: these images were of his memories after the death of his parents—after Death happened. His own unfamiliarity to the situation, however, deeply unsettled him.
Minato was pretty sure that there were images of masks and game. He could hear children chanting as they played the game—and among those voices, he could hear his own. But in between the song, one word stuck in him like a sore bruise and it did not make any sense.
How in the world a group of kids knew anything about Persona?
Why did he have no recollection about this until now? Was this part of the consequence that he must endure for keeping death inside of him for so long? Was Ryoji still playing with him even after the turning point of their (he and the team's) life?
And so, on the 25th hour of January 28th, Minato laid on his bed and uneasily let the dark hour rolled. Every second of it was intolerable, with images of his vision getting more lucid and a familiar sense of dread haunting his thoughts like plague. But then, as he closed his eyes to try calming himself, he was drowned in the mutters of his persona. The Fool were muttering the loudest in his head (Susano-O, no need to hack your sword around... Loki, stop freezing everything...) but even that did not drown the gentle plucks of lyre. And of all songs, his favorite persona actually plucked the notes of Gymnopédie in perfect harmony.
The subtle flutters of butterfly wings in his heart returned at the right moment, which was oddly comforting, so he let it resonate with gentle tune of music inside him.
Minato let out a sigh of relief and drifted to sleep.
His latest dreams felt so surreal and realistic at the same time. There, he was just a boy, still naive and thrilled over an adventure, because Minato was not alone (and this fact, despite he was in a dream, surprised him most). Three of his best friends are with him, forming a circle along. Before long, they started singing.
“Master Persona, Master Persona, please come to us!”
He walked counterclockwise, twice.
“Master Persona, Master Persona, please come to us!”
He felt a tap on his shoulder, and Minato turned and saw a cheerful glint of silver in those eyes and that mop of hair. That boy was a junior, the littlest of them all, and the one most thrilled with their endeavor. Excitement—that same feeling when he was with his family—resurfaced once more. So Minato walked, completing the circle, and shouted-
“Master Persona, Master Persona, please come to us!”
Four different voices resounded, one belonged to him, another belonged to that silver-haired boy, and the other two... he could not recall the other two. But the most important part was after the summoning; it was supposed to show him... something. But for a moment, nothing happened... that is, until he felt the air chilled.
That was when everything went awry.
Yellow wisps of light suddenly flashed in, surrounding each of them in a sphere. Panic quickly welled inside his gut, so Minato let a high-pitched scream, never minding the fact that he should be better than this, because he's the one seeking adventure.
His scream continued, out of fear and dread, because those wisps quickly changed into thousand butterflies, then monstrous hands binding him to the ground, before reverting back to harmless balls of light. It did not hurt, but something inside him feared of something that he could not comprehend, like meeting a real boogie man.
So Minato closed his eyes and ears, wishing for this problem to go away, cursing himself as to why he decided to play this game in the first place.
The next thing he knew, Minato fell to the ground and remembered nothing else—
—but then he wake up to the kiss of morning sunlight and chirps of birds. He was too numb to think of anything, as memories of his dream kept on replaying in his head. Butterfly. Masks. Personae.
It was exhausting, but time never waited, and his daily life must go on.
Minato ignored his unsettled feeling for the rest of the day.
The dreams kept on repeating in the last days of January, leaving him mostly restless and tired. He fell asleep during classes a lot, sometimes missing Junpei’s plea for help when the teachers threw in some hard questions. By the end of the class, the Magician would pester him and whine, to which Minato only shrugged and drifted off. Later, Junpei would joke about him being such a lazy ass, so different compared to his first impression in the school. Minato was too tired to care, but he chuckled along anyway.
Fuuka noticed the drastic changes as well, and he could sense that she was trying her best to cheer him (sometimes he found some cookies in his shoe, and judging from the crispiness and texture… it was definitely Fuuka’s creation).
But the one who amazed him most was the youngest of them all.
Ken Amada was just a kid despite his mature(ish) upbringing; kids always had that curious glint whenever something out-of-sorts happened. In Ken’s case, such curiosity was meticulously shrouded by rational thinking that is clearly beyond his age. It made Minato want to laugh and cry at the same time, because despite how endearing it could be, it was also the result of exposing him in a world too young for children to know. But they were all children who should have been laughing together with other children... instead of facing the dark.
Those eyes had been staring at him since sat on the sofa… still with the same glint.
Minato sighed, “You have been awfully quiet tonight.”
Ken blinked. There was a slight hesitation when he began speaking, “Senpai, there is something I need to tell you.”
The blue-haired boy blinked rather curiously. “Well then, shoot.”
Ken seemed to fidget. Minato bet that Koromaru might even sense his hesitance (it’s just that awful), so he shrugged again and smiled. “You know you’re free to talk about anything to me, even if it’s embarrassing,” he gave the boy a teasing smirk. Anything to stop you staring at me, he added silently.
Ken still eyed him, a little bit unsure, but finally started speaking, “I know the other senpai have said this, but I think you need to rest a bit more.”
Minato sighed. This again… If only they knew the other half of my problem is not even related to the end of the world...
“I mean, have you seen yourself on the mirror? Senpai… you look like a zombie,” the young boy added and fidgeted again, “I know we are facing the most impossible challenge ahead… but I don't think wearing yourself out will help anyone at all. And everyone is worried.”
Minato could even sense the unsaid words: I am worried. He still kept his silence, though, because Ken did not seem eager to stop.
“I know… that we have facing harder challenges than before. But senpai, just because you are our leader does not mean you should take all the burden alone,” he was so determined that Minato did not have the heart to flippantly say that he is okay—because he was not, and everybody could see that.
Ken continued to stare at him, expecting satisfactory answer. Minato sighed and lowered his head. “I just need more sleep. All the adrenaline and expectation kept me awake,” he finally said, omitting completely about his past dreams. Better to keep that to him. “Thanks for your concern, though, but I think a few good sleeps for the rest of the week would fix my problem. Don’t be so worried.”
Ken still glanced at him oddly, and for a moment, Minato wondered whether he gave the boy less credit than he deserved. But Ken eventually relented and nodded.
“Just to remind you, Minato-senpai, you will have to let us know if anything happens to you. I mean, after all that has happened, of all things that you have given to us, it’s fair for us to return the favor.” Ken huffed. “...I want to return the favor, for letting me join the team—for treating me no less than an official member.”
Minato looked back at Ken with a blank face, though something in his being churned. Did this boy think that it was ever him who gave to everyone? Had the others thought the same thing as this boy? But they were the ones who dispelled him of greys and empty and apathy inside of him. They were his savior from black hole of grief and stagnancy. He could battle thousand shadows to repay them, and it would never be enough.
Minato let the blank mask slipped back into a carefree expression and spoke, "thank you, Ken. But let me tell you one thing..." Minato carefully studied the boy again, noticing how composed he was and let out an earnest smile, "you don't take from friends, Ken. You give them something, and you receive something in return, but never expecting it in the first place. You all have given me many things... and it's enough."
He watched the expression of his young friend changed, as though Minato was growing a second head. The blue-haired teen laughed, "Don’t think much about that. Just remember that you're here because you're an ally. A friend. There's no reason for us to treat you less than this. I thought you know this by now?"
"But I just want to let you know..." he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. "...alright then. I think that's... all. I'm going back to my room."
Minato nodded and watched the boy went away, most probably back to his room to do his homework. Or maybe he would train just like any other nights previously inside his own room to waste his own anxiety. Or do some distractions given their last operation will commence in 4 days; anything to relieve his anxiety.
Friends don't take. Friends give... and receive.
He brushed several strands of his hair, which obstructed his vision, and sagged onto the living room sofa. Inside him, Orpheus still played the same song over and over, still trying to soothe his other self for the untruth that he has spouted. After all, wasn't his reluctance to share his later burden proof enough that he does not value what his friends had given him?
It was January 30th when he woke up in the middle of the night and screamed of rage and fear. The first thing that he saw was green and pale and dead, to which his mind registered that it was still in the middle of Dark Hour.
It did not stop the scream, though.
The first one who forcefully opened the door and rushed to his side was Akihiko, shaking him, trying to dispel him from whatever horror he had seen. Eventually, his scream subsided, though his breathing remained shallow as if he had been running nonstop.
"Feeling a bit better?"
When Minato looked at Akihiko's worried glance, he managed to siphon his remaining broken composure.
"I... I'm alright. I think. It was just a bad... dream," Minato sighed heavily as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Even after minutes, he could not slow down his own frantic heartbeat.
Akihiko grimaced, "well that's... I thought you're being attacked." He muttered something about shadow and stand, "wait here, I'll fetch you a drink."
Minato did not even protest; his mind was still trying to comprehend what he saw... and heard. Mostly heard, because even though the same dream returned, the one he experienced was more extended. Previously, the dream stopped when all faded to black. But his current one extended to resounding voice of children in pain, mechanical whirls, and voices so dark that it chilled his inside.
The childish song still lingered in his mind, as did unfamiliar words that were not his own in the last part of the dream. For him, it spoke volumes, because—
I am thou, thou art I...
I cometh from the sea of thy soul...
Thou who held adventure within thee,
But led astray by doubt and fear,
Thine life is not to be,
Thine end begins here.
—that voice was supposed to be Orpheus, but it was not him. The screeching of wheels between his joints are gruff and chaotic, and the voice was too dark to be his other self's.
Calm down. Freaking out over a dream word not help you in anyway, Minato. Calm. The fuck. Down. Minato sighed heavily and closed his eyes as he tried breathing slowly again. He focused himself to the gentle hum of Orpheus' gentle hum that had accompanied him lately. Minato sighed in relief; it was there, though shrouded by his own panic and fear. The blue-haired young man eventually concentrated to the beat, feeling relaxed by the seconds.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again. The green tint of Dark Hour met his vision. It dawned to him that the day past this hour would be their last test of resolve. And here he was, still deeply unsettled in the matters of subconscious. If they are to die tomorrow because of his lost sleep, well... tough luck.
The sound of tapping feet outside brought his attention to the door. Akihiko, true to his word, returned with a glass of water in tow and approached. "Here."
Minato gave a grateful nod and drank slowly until there's nothing left. He diligently put it on his bedside table. His senpai kept on staring at him as if Minato was going to roll over and collapse. He did not dare to break the silence between them either.
Minato noticed this, so he did the honor. "Sorry if I woke you up."
Akihiko blinked, "It's alright. I wasn't actually sleeping when the dark hour rolled in." He paused a bit, and for a moment, Minato thought that he had nothing more to add.
"You gave me quite a scare, though. I really thought that shadows compromised our defense... given the circumstances." He sighed.
Minato smirked, "Sorry to disappoint you, senpai, but there is no strong shadow here. Only me, poor me."
"...Are you trying to tease me or something?"
Minato raised an eyebrow, "well no one in this building was more eager to demolish strong shadows than you. I mean, who else train more than you for that purpose, senpai?" Who else desires power to protect the people more than yourself?
Akihiko chuckled, "well, I have to keep myself fit. Can't have myself slacking around when tomorrow is an important day..." he stopped, if only for a while. It was crystal clear that Akihiko did not want to touch this subject further... at least, not yet. Eventually, his eyes set again to the form of his leader and winced. "How long ago since you had decent sleep?"
If Akihiko was starting to get hell-bent on his own personal being, his tiredness must have shown in his face. Minato did not answer as soon as he was asked. His mind was still partially occupied with the whispers of his personas. Friends give and receive.
Do not reject.
Eventually, he sighed. The careful mask slowly fell, displaying a worn feature that caught Akihiko by surprise; their leader had always been charismatic and calm—the picture perfect for any field leader. But now, he was on his bed before him, so tired and weary, but still managed to push through.
If only Minato knew how Akihiko envied his persistence.
"Last week," Minato eventually muttered. "My sleep cycle has been disturbed since last week." Akihiko gaped.
"You haven't gotten any decent sleep since then?! Why didn't you tell us sooner?!"
...always trust Akihiko to mother him in Shinjiro's place.
Akihiko let a frustrated sigh and continued, "Have you considered that it might be related to stress?"
Minato just nodded, only to evade questions that might lead him to blubbering his dreams, one way or another. It's unsettling enough that the setting was too real to be true... and the last thing he needed was everybody looking at him funnily.
Akihiko raised an eyebrow. "Well, I suggest you relax yourself before you go to sleep. You know, drink warm milk, or take exercise to burn out energy. .. Anything that will make you relax."
"I know, Akihiko-senpai," he muttered, "I'll try to remember that tomorrow. Oh wait, tomorrow's judgment day."
"....Minato, I think your jokes become gloomier day by day."
Minato rolled his eyes, "you just don't have the humor, senpai."
"Hey, I resent that! Even I notice a joke when I hear one, and that's definitely cynical," he mumbled. Just when Minato was about to retort, the green tint inside his room faded. Lights returned; the Dark Hour had passed.
Minato noticed his senior's expression changed, from lighthearted to weary.
"Go to sleep, Minato. Take a school break if necessary. I doubt anyone would protest as you're as pale as a sheet," Akihiko said as he stood back. Minato pinched his forehead, trying to focus but failing. "Want me to watch over?"
Hearing that, Minato quickly glared at him, deadpanned. "Senpai, I'm just tired, not sick. You'll most likely bored yourself to death."
The silver-haired teen laughed, "If you say so." The silver-haired teen slowly stood, "I'll inform Mitsuru about this later, alright. Just take it easy for today."
With that, the teen left him alone in his room. The rest of his mind was still screaming for any rest, so he decided to lie back again. Orpheus was still playing the same song as before, but that alone was enough for him to relax and drift off into sleep.
When he opened his eyes once more, Minato was met with bluish sight of velvet room. The first thing he did was glancing straight at where Igor usually sit. But the long-nosed man was nowhere to be seen, nor the blond elevator attendant. Instead, sitting before him was an unrecognized man with a mask resembling butterfly wings which covered the upper half of his face. Even though he could not see the man's eyes behind that mask, Minato was very sure that he had been examining himself as though he was a piece of evidence.
Frankly, Minato did not feel at ease with this guy, despite having mostly normal appearance than Igor (he admitted that Igor's nose is distinctive), his presence was unsettling.
"Who are you and where is Igor?" It was a valid question, and at least it got him a reaction—a slight smile, but nothing else.
"Welcome yet again, child of man, to the Velvet Room," the man spoke calmly as he uncrossed his feet. Minato felt the serenity and calmness that enclosed him like a cocoon. While it did not speak of danger, it set his instinct off. "This is the second time we met each other. Let yourself at ease, as I mean you no harm."
For some reason, despite believing that he never encountered this man, Minato knew that it was truth. He let himself sagged onto his own sofa and stared at the man cautiously. "You have not answered my question yet."
He eyed the teen, clearly bemused. "I am Philemon, a being that exists in the border of consciousness and unconsciousness. As I explained before, we have met... though it would seem other forces had interfered with your memories."
Minato raised an eyebrow. Other forces, really? Did he mean Death… or someone else entirely? ...But it did not matter for now. "Does that make you Igor's accomplice?"
There was an amused chuckle, "in a sense, yes."
Minato bit his lips; his grey eyes were still locked on the figure before him. Why were the denizens of this room very cryptic at any moment? Did they not know that such attitude only promoted distrust and wariness towards their guests?
“Shall we look at the summary of your journey so far?”
The man moved his hand before Minato was about to comment further. A deck of tarot cards—the same one in Igor's possession—shuffled automatically on the table. Three of them floated over in downward position. Philemon made a flicking gesture, and the card to Minato’s left flipped, revealing The Tower in upright position.
“It would seem that you have faced arduous tests and hardship. You found challenges in every corner, yet what brought you to this intersection? What brings you fear so terrible that, now, it sets you back? Interesting.”
Minato’s eyes snapped back to Philemon, as though trying to decipher his intention. “You are talking about Ryoji and Nyx.”
The other man only glanced at him, devoid of emotion. “I have to admit that it is... an interesting turn of event. But now…” he flicked his hand once more. The middle card flipped, revealing The Hermit in reversed. “In hopes to find clarity, you search inside yourself. But in doing so, you push away everyone around you. Do you think you will gain clarity with this attitude? Do you think isolation will bring you truth?”
Philemon did not even let Minato’s tense reaction faze him and flicked the last card. The Emperor in upright position rested before him, and Minato could not help to think of authoritative Hidetoshi, who firstly refused to let go of control... until he realized that control was not everything.
Minato withdrew from his thoughts and looked at Philemon again. He noticed that something in the man’s gaze flickered in recognition, as if a hidden secret was revealed to him. “The Emperor. A solid resolution, or perhaps fate would bring you to meet an unexpected ally? Or will you finally hold the truth with iron grip and realize it without fear? I suppose it is for you to find out.”
The man in mask waved his hand once more, and at once, all the cards gather in circles, surrounding them like a barrier. The interior images of the cards glowed, obstructing the true image that should be in it. Uneasy silence descended between the two of them, though if one could look closely, Philemon was waiting the unsaid questions from the blue-haired teen.
“...why the sudden interest?”
Philemon did not answer, but the smug smirk that painted his face was answer enough. Minato clenched his teeth. “You heard me. If you claim that we have met before—and I assure you, we have not—why contact me, spread several tarot cards, reveal my fate, and read my intention at all?”
Suddenly, he noticed that the gentle melody of Velvet Room stopped. The screeching sound of elevator faded, blending in with piano tunes that resemble vigorous music. It was Boléro, he noticed for a moment, at a crescendo.
At the same moment, he smelled ozone in the air. Was he in danger?
“I come to remind you of many things, child of human,” he eventually replied. “Of a long-forgotten promise,” a flick of finger, and a card quickly leaped to Minato. Death stared back at him. “And, of the contract that you have signed,” another snap of finger, and one lone card flew right in front of the teen. An angel with trumpet; The Judgment.
“The answer will be revealed to you in time, child of human. But not when you come here without your own volition. As we spoke here… time in your world marched on,” he smiled, “it never waits, but the denizens of this room shall be with you, until you have accomplished what you have to do… no matter how long.”
He could feel the ground shook as the elevator screeched and stopped. The song halted; the door remained close. Philemon’s words were getting hazier as his own vision slowly faded away, but he could make out his words.
“A piece of advice... remember your self, Makoto Yuki.”
He wanted to scream that it was not his name, but a familiar dread stopped him from uttering a single word and made him believed, even for a single moment, that he was never Minato Arisato to begin with.
The curtain fell; he remembered nothing else.