Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somewhere, distantly, a voice speaks. Joker--the “Trickster”, the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves of Heart, strains his ears, trying to make out the words. The words are less of words, and more akin to sand, falling through his fingers. Try as he might to cup his hands tightly enough that he can make sense of the syllables ringing in his ears, he cannot.

As quickly as this realization comes, another replaces it with just the same speed. He is not being spoken to. There is no “voice”. There are only words, written in handwriting that he knows, he recognizes, but can’t quite place. The answer rests on the tip of his tongue, but it’s out of his reach. He wants to scream, but nothing comes out. Not a sound. Not a breath.

Akira realizes he cannot breathe. He cannot move. 

From the deepest, deepest depths of his heart, a form appears, manifesting in the air like mist, like magic, like a trick of the light--or perhaps sleight of hand, such wonders only the best magicians are capable of. A sight to behold. Such a thing cannot be possible through the feats of man; only someone, something inhumane could be capable of such a feat.

The air is cold… 

Dialogue plays in front of Akira’s eyes. There is no sound. No breath. There is nothing but the bone-numbing cold. 

Arsène stands before him. Akira cannot open his eyes. He cannot see, and yet, his Persona--his other self, takes form in front of his eyes.

Truly, it could be nothing but magic.

Arsène’s mask conceals his face--though, perhaps, there is nothing behind it. Beneath the mask, was there nothing but darkness? 

Either way, Akira cannot see his other self’s expressions, but he knows in his heart that Arsène has begun to speak, although he cannot see, although he cannot hear. He’s lost all his senses, left to drown in the eternal nothingness.

Awakening to your Persona, accepting your “true self”--is a transformation that cannot be explained with words. The feelings of pain, of freedom, of fear would not be done justice with mere words. 

The shackles that tie your heart down break, crumbling into thousands upon thousands of pieces. Your rebellious heart awakens, and the world changes form. Perhaps, the latter is a mere trick of the light, but indeed, you see the world differently.

As poets say, when they describe something such as falling in love--the world, once black and white, becomes filled with colors of every single shade. Indescribable. Beautiful, breathtaking… You wonder how you had lived in such a dreary world for all of your life, how you could have been content with such trifle.  

Tell me, my other self. Though you had faced the cruelty of the world, as well you had seen the joy, in the light. And now, you shall be plunged into darkness.

Awakening to your Persona, accepting your “true self”--the shackles that tie down both you and I break, into thousands upon thousands of shards, that even the likes of Arsène Lupin could not find! Now, tell me, my dearest Trickster… My partner in crime, my other self…

How can you fare, when our bond has been broken, destroyed by the chains that we had scoffed at so boisterously? Will you not lose yourself, drowning in the flames of Hell… a tragic and unjust end, even for a thief such as yourself...

Arsène’s voice echoes into the distance. He’s getting further and further away. Akira wants to grab hold of the thief, but he can’t. His fingers can’t reach. 

Tell me, my other self…

...Will we ever meet again?...

Akira’s falling. Falling, falling at the speed of light. Falling so fast that it feels like he’ll lose all of his limbs. He can’t breathe, the sudden drop like a swift punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. His eardrums feel like they’re going to explode. The wind hits him in the face, cracking his glasses, the glass shards grazing against his face, cutting him open. The frames crumble, falling to the ground, faster than Akira himself.

Large framed glasses that hid his expression. Akira hadn’t needed them, at first. Not to see, anyway. He needed them to hide. They were his mask against society, against the world. They couldn’t look him directly in the eyes, they couldn’t see past his mask. They couldn’t see past his label of “criminal”. 

After his probation ended, Akira was shocked to discover that his vision had actually worsened, and now he really did need glasses. Suppose it was karma, for wearing them falsely all that time. Or mayhap just a sick joke. He wonders why he’s thinking of this now, as he falls.

The world is blurry, and Akira shuts his eyes. 

He falls, and falls. Falling, falling, falling. Falling faster. The air’s cold again. He can hear echoing voices, echoing screams. Who’s voice is that? He recognizes it, from somewhere. He hears an echoed grunt, a scream of pain falling from a mouth clamped shut.

“I only need your arm to sign this… I don’t care if you lose a leg.”

The voices are further now. Akira’s falling, still. Falling… Somehow, in his heart, he realizes he’s nearly gone as far as he can go. Just one more, just a bit further--he falls a bit farther, and then it stops.

What stops? Everything. Everything.

Noticing his landing, a figure stands. Chains rattle, and echo. A breath comes from the figure like fog. It’s cold. It’s below freezing. The visage laughs, it’s face obscured by shadow. It runs it’s hands against the new addition to the Ninth Circle. 

Arms crossed over his chest like a corpse, Akira is trapped in a block of ice, frozen solid. There’s dark blue, almost black chains wrapped around the ice, so tightly bound that it seems as if they could break the ice, and shatter the one inside.

Gloved hands press against the ice. An almost melancholy expression crosses the face of the visage. It presses it’s forehead to the glass, and speaks softly, so quietly, in a voice just below a whisper…

“Will the day come, when you are freed from the ice, and we can become one again…? The longer you remain encased in the ice, my other self, the further you get… And the more this shadow of yourself takes over even the heart of I. Indeed, I can only pray… in a way that is so unbecoming of a thief such as myself, such as thou... that someone shall come to rescue you from the ice, and reunite the two of us whom joined by the shackles of fate…”

For what had to be the eightieth time that day, Ryuji leans too far back in his chair and nearly topples over. Makoto stares at him with a stern expression on her face. “Sorry!” He splutters, going back to sitting like a normal person, instead of an overexcited elementary schooler.

Ann laughs, taking a sip of her drink. “You don’t need to be so mad, Mako-chan! We’re all just as antsy as Ryuji is, right? Though, we aren’t all as stupid.”

“Hey!” He frowns, with both of his elbows on the table. “You’re dumber than me, y’know that?” 

“Now, now, cease the bickering.” Yusuke says, setting the empty container of Pocky he’d been eating on the counter. “As Ann said, we can’t help being excited. It’s been quite some time since we’ve talked to our leader face-to-face, after all… I, too, am bristling with excitement!” 

“It was really nice of Boss to let us use LeBlanc to call Akira, huh? Though, maybe he just wanted a day off…” Ryuji glances around. It’s clean as it always is. He sighs. “Kinda sucks that he’s not here with us, though! Akira, I mean. We could be eating his curry!”

“It’d be the same if Sojiro was here, Ryuji! Though, well, they're both waaaay too good at making curry.” Futaba hums, tapping away at her laptop. She seems positively thrilled, unable to stop grinning for even a second. “Nyehehe, it’s almost time! Just a couple more minutes until he’s supposed to call!” 

“Truthfully, it’s hard to wait…” Haru sighs, hands folded in her lap. She takes a long sip of her coffee. “It’s surprising he didn’t call earlier, isn’t it?” She smiles, giggling softly.

“Aw, you know him!” Ryuji laughs, waving his hand in the air. “He’s always so dramatic. Of course he’d wait until we’re right on time. Maybe even a little bit later, just to show up in style. I bet you, it’ll be Morgana pressing the call button!”

LeBlanc is filled with excited conversation and happy laughter, all of them discussing memories, deciding what to bring up to Akira first, sorting through all the things they need to tell him about what’s happened since he’d been gone.

Finally, the time he’s supposed to call arrives, and the former Phantom Thieves of Heart wait in earnest for their leader’s call.

But it never comes.

Ann glances over at Makoto, brows furrowed. “...Maybe he’s just a little bit late…? Like Ryuji said, fashionably late and all that…” She laughs, but it sounds hollow.

An air of concern rises upon all of them. Somehow, in their hearts, they felt a sense of unease. They knew, subconsciously, that something was wrong. Five minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen. 

“...Do you think he forgot, maybe? He does tend to overbook himself at times…” Haru says, though she sounds unconvinced of her own words. 

“No way.” Ryuji replies, jaw clenched, nervous tension evident in every inch of his body. “You remember the texts he was sending a while ago, yeah? That there’s nothing to do in that hick town… there’s no way he’d be busy. And there’s absolutely no way he’d forget about something like this. He… he was more excited then we were, right? Guy’s hard to read sometimes, but…” 

“You’re right,” Makoto starts, arms folded on the table. Steam rises from her cup, but she pays it no heed. “Akira was more excited than all of us combined. He wouldn’t have forgotten.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yusuke notices Futaba’s expression change. Her face goes pale. Her eyes go wide, and her mouth falls open. “Futaba? Are you alright?”

“N-No, this can’t be…” She says, and her voice is trembling. The group turns to look at her. Futaba’s peering at her laptop screen, furiously typing, the loud clicking echoing throughout LeBlanc. Her max speed typing matches the erratic heartbeats of every single member of the Phantom Thieves.

“What is it, Futaba? You’re freaking me out…” Ryuji stands from his seat, and walks over to check. His mouth falls open, just like Futaba’s did. “No--no fuckin’ way. We--we destroyed it… so why…?!”

On Futaba’s cluttered desktop, smack in the middle, was an icon that they all recognized. A single eye, staring directly at them. 

“That’s--” Ann starts, looking around at everyone, trying to gauge their reactions, trying to make sure she isn’t the only one seeing what’s in front of her eyes. “The Metaverse… But, but we destroyed it, didn’t we? All of us--Akira… How could it--no... No...” Her face pales.

“You don’t think… his failure to call us, could have to do with the sudden reappearance of the Metaverse…?” Haru’s voice is shaking just as badly as she is. “Akira…”

“Fuck!” Ryuji curses, pulling out his phone. He opens up his contacts, his favorites listed right at the top, in alphabetical order. All of the Phantom Thieves, his mother--and Akira’s name was right at the top. He presses call, hits speaker, and holds it in front of his face. “Please, Akira! Pick up! Please!”

A click. The group holds their breath.

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Kurusu Akira. Please, leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

“Shit, Akira! If you’re there, pick up! I swear to god, your phone better be fuckin’ dead, or Morgana better have dropped it in a bathtub for all I care, but Akira--please, please be safe. Where are you?!” 

Makoto’s staring down at her own phone, staring at the eerie icon of the Metaverse app. “I… I really, really don’t want to do this. I don’t even… want to try it, but…” 

Ryuji turns his head towards her, eyes wide. “You’re not thinking of entering his name, are you? There’s--there’s no way he could have a Palace, right? You’d need a--a shadow for that, right? And our Personas… You can’t have both at once, right?” His hands are shaking. Ann reaches out, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. He shakes his head. “There’s just no way.” 

“You’re right, Ryuji.” Futaba mutters, legs pulled up to her chest as she stares blankly at the computer screen in front of her. “When we awakened to our Personas, we accepted our Shadows… you can’t have a Persona and a Shadow at the same time… and for your name to pop up in the Metaverse, you need a Palace… and for that, you need a Shadow…”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Makoto says, keeping her voice steady. She presses the app, takes a breath, and speaks clearly into the mic. “Kurusu Akira.”

The world around them shudders. The Metanav dings. 

Silence falls upon LeBlanc. The members of the Phantom Thieves of Heart all share the same shocked expression, as they lock eyes, trying to comprehend the reality they were forced to face.

“Akira… has a Palace…?” Ryuji asks no one in particular. “D-Does that mean… He has… distorted desires…? A treasure to steal…?”

An eerie silence sets in. Makoto narrows her eyes, practically glaring at the phone, like it had somehow offended her. And in a way, it sort of had. 

Futaba speaks, softly. “I can’t… believe it. Even though I’ve been through the same thing myself, I can’t believe it. But… because I’ve been through it…” She crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly. She looks more like that scared girl, locked in her room, rather than the Phantom Thieves’ genius navigator. But still, resolve shines in her eyes. “I was so scared, back then, trapped in my Palace… I really thought I was going to die there. I wanted someone to save me, but I couldn’t believe that anyone would. Still, though… I wanted… someone to release me. To save me.

“Akira’s waiting for us to save him. That’s what I want to believe. That he has faith in us. That we’ll come to save him, like… like he saved me. Like he saved all of us…” Her voice trails off. Tears slip down her cheeks, and she sniffles. “Akira… we have to save him. We have to.”

Haru pulls Futaba close, letting the other girl cry into her chest. “Futaba-chan’s right. He’s always been there for us, no matter what. In a way, he’s seen all of our weakest parts. He’s seen our shadows, the parts of us we want to hide… And he accepted us without hesitation. He loves us and cares for us unconditionally. I want to believe, too. That Akira’s waiting for us, somewhere within the depths of his heart.”

They all nod. 

“Okay. There’s no objections, then?” Makoto places her hand on the table. A chorus of “yes” fills LeBlanc, and Makoto smiles, proud. “Okay. Good. So, our first order of business… We need to find the keywords for Akira’s palace. If we can’t find that, then there’s no way to save him.”

“You’re right.” Ann nods, crossing her arms over her chest, shutting her eyes, lost in thought. “We need to think… How exactly does Akira-kun see himself?” 

“Hmm,” Makoto hums, taking a sip of her coffee. “Joker, the Leader of the Phantom Thieves?” 

The Metanav doesn’t react. Makoto sighs.

“I guess it won’t be that easy, huh…” Ryuji frowns. “Uhh, how about… Student?”

No reaction.

“I get the feeling we’re going to need a dictionary…” Haru mumbles, tracing circles into the table with her fingertip. The gang sit in silence for a moment, occasionally throwing out whatever words they can think of, some of which might even make Akira cringe.

“Handsome.” Yusuke deadpans. Yeah, like that. That'd make even the leader of the Phantom Thieves cringe--and, predictably, there is no reaction. Yusuke shakes his head. “Perhaps our leader is blind to his own beauty.”

“Uh, I think anyone who that keyword would work for would be vain as hell. Vainer than Akira, even.” Ryuji replies, looking unamused. “Shiiiit. What else. We just doin’ adjectives now?” 

“That’d take far too long.” Makoto shakes her head. “We have to pin it down. We have to think harder than just throwing words together… Think, there has to be something… Something, something that can give us some kind of hint or clue to the keyword…”

“Hmm,” Yusuke says, and moves closer to Makoto’s phone. “To awaken to one’s Persona is to break the shackles of their heart… The chains that weigh oneself down… Perhaps, in that case…” His chin is in his hand, and suddenly an expression of realization flashes across his face.

“Yusuke, what is it?” Haru asks, looking up at him.

He takes the phone from Makoto, and staring at the screen. Though his eyes are on the phone, it doesn't seem to be what's in front of his eyes. Instead, a memory. “I remember, once, Akira and I were speaking, whilst in the depths of Mementos. I asked him to bring me so I could paint, to attempt to illustrate the darkness of the heart… The conversation we had then, discussing the intricacies of society, and the masks we wore, the chains that held us down… I remember his voice, in a tone I had never heard come from his lips before…” 

The Phantom Thieves wait with baited breath for Yusuke to continue.

“He said that we were all held captive. Jailed by society, jailed by ourselves… The look on his face then was one that even I could not capture flawlessly...” He pauses, lips an inch away from the mic of Makoto’s phone. “Prisoner.”

The Metanav dings.

“A… prisoner…?” Haru says, softly. “That’s how he sees himself…?”

“Not as the leader of the Phantom Thieves… not as a student, not even as a worker…” Ryuji doesn’t bother trying to conceal the emotion in his voice. “He sees himself as a frickin’ prisoner? Even after all this time…?”

Makoto takes a shuddering breath, clearly shaken like the rest of them. “...That’s the first keyword. We need to find out the other… We need to figure out the ‘what’ keyword.”

“Since he sees himself as a prisoner,” Ann mumbles. “A prison?”

No reaction.

“A jailhouse, perhaps?” Yusuke offers, but this garners no reaction. He lets out an irritated sigh, chewing on the fingernail of his thumb. 

Ryuji stares at the ground, fists clenched. “I… I remember, when Akira first awakened to his Persona. I just barely remember--everything was so fuzzy, since that shithead Kamoshida had his guards beat me half to death, but--” He’s shaking. “I remember what Akira’s Persona said. Arsène… I could hear it because it was so goddamn loud.” 

He clears his throat, sorting through foggy memories, reciting all he can recall. “Thou who are--art, whatever--willing to perform all sacrilegious acts, for thy own justice.” The word hangs off of Ryuji’s lips. Justice. The ideal upon which the Phantom Thieves of Heart were founded. Their foundation. Their hope. Their desire. Their reason for existing. “Show the strength of--thy, thou, whatever, will, though you shall be chained to Hell itself…”

The Metanav dings, and the mechanical voice fills the air. “Route found! Navigation starting.”

“Hell…” Yusuke says, his deep, baritone voice unable to contain it’s shock. 

The world around them begins to distort. Red and black fill their vision, drowning them in darkness. LeBlanc fades, and the sight that replaces it, is...

...A town that none of them recognize. A scenery that none of them know. It seems like a sleepy town, with barely anything in it. The world around them is all varied shades of browns. There's no color whatsoever, and no sound. It's... a ghost-town, really. There's no one around, save for the Phantom Thieves...

“Where… are we?” Ryuji asks, looking around. “Wait, no, this is… This is the entrance to his Palace, isn’t it? But… it just looks like…” 

When he first went home, Akira had sent a wide variety of pictures of his hometown--from the train station, to the path he walked home, to the shitty 24/7 hour liquor store on the corner of his street… They were in Akira’s hometown.

“Is his Palace… His hometown?” Haru asks, tilting her head, looking around. She glances down at her clothes. “Ah, we haven’t changed… Does he not recognize us as a threat…?”

“We’re only at the entrance, I believe. If we were to be recognized as a threat, I assume it would be further in...” Yusuke says, glancing around. “I wonder, how are we supposed to delve deeper…? We aren’t even aware of where Akira’s treasure might be.”

“God, Morgana’d be really useful right about--” Ryuji pauses, whipping his head around to stare at his fellow Thieves. “Morgana! Where is he? He was with Akira, wasn’t he?”

Futaba’s tapping away at neon green keys that have appeared in front of her face. She gasps, adjusting her glasses as she leans in close to the screen. “This--this reading! It’s Morgana! He’s in here! In Akira's Palace!” 

Ann rushes over, leaning over Futaba’s shoulder to get a look at the screen. “Do you see where he is?”

“Hrrm, it’s really hard to make out, but for sure, he’s past the entrance… At least with his reading, we have a vague idea of which direction to go. It’s the only thing close to a map we have right now.” She types with one hand, using the other to poke and prod at the screen. “It seems like he’s below us… Woah, geez! This goes so deep… Just how big is his Palace? It’s even bigger than mine…” 

Makoto peers at the screen, eyes narrowing. “There’s so many floors, but… it seems to be seperated in levels, doesn’t it…? One, two…” She counts quietly, and then gasps. “Hell… I get it! I understand, now!” Her voice quiets, and she begins muttering quietly to herself as she takes in what little information they have on Akira’s palace.

“You wanna share with the class, Makoto?” Ryuji asks, staring at her. 

Makoto blinks. “Right, sorry.” She points at the levels displayed on Futaba’s screen. “I can’t make out how many floors there are--and I doubt we’ll be able to tell until we explore, but I know that there’s nine levels total. Akira’s keywords were ‘Prisoner’ and ‘Hell’--I know where we are. We’re in Dante’s Inferno…”

Haru gasps. “That’s--”

“Um,” Ann cuts in. “What’s that, exactly?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” Makoto starts, “Is the first part of a story written by Dante Alighieri--Divine Comedy. Inferno tells details a journey through Hell--depicted as having nine total circles. Nine circles. Nine levels. Akira’s palace is Dante’s Inferno--the Hell depicted within Divine Comedy--the recognition, and more importantly, the rejection of sin.”

“The rejection of sin, hmm... Well, in any case, there’s nine levels total?” Yusuke frames the area in front of their eyes. “Is it a fair guess, to assume we’re to go down, and delve deeper into Hell?--Into the psyche of our beloved leader, who sees himself as a prisoner in his own heart?”

“Indeed.” Makoto replies, hands clenched into fists at her sides, striding up to the apparent entrance of the Palace. “There are nine total levels, and to start, the First Circle: Limbo. Where those who are not sinful enough to deserve to go down further into the depths--but those who have rejected Christ, or at the very least, not accepted him.” 

Futaba closes all the screens, walking up next to Makoto. The rest of the Thieves follow. She stares up at the unfamiliar town. “I have a funny feeling that we’ll find Akira in the deepest part of Hell.” 

“Heh.” Ryuji scoffs, cracking his knuckles. “I was just thinking the same thing. Welp, no point in hesitating, right? Let’s go save our leader!”

Their triumphant cry fills the air, and they walk forward into the First Circle of Hell… Completely unaware of the journey that lay ahead of them, but feeling prepared of anything and everything--any trial, any tribulation--no task was too much if it meant seeing their precious leader again.

In the deepest depths of Dante’s Inferno, a dark laugh echoes through the icy halls. A figure clad in black and grey rises from where he’s seated on the floor. He spins a knife around in his hands, a sinister expression on his face.

He grins, and gently taps the block of ice with the tip of his knife. He leans up against it, feeling the cold surface against his back, feeling the chains gently rub against his skin. He laughs, again, and turns to stare at the prisoner trapped in the ice, held down by chains.

“Joker” smirks at his mirror image in the ice. His golden eyes bore into the image of his other self, and he drags the knife down the hard surface. Despite the sharpness of the knife, it doesn’t leave a single scratch on the ice. Another laugh resonates through the Ninth Circle, and Akira’s Shadow glances upwards, staring through floors and floors--he sees a merry band of Thieves, breaching the First Circle.

“My, my… It seems we have visitors.”

Chapter Text

As the Phantom Thieves of Heart enter the First Circle, there’s a flash of light, and a familiar whooshing sound. All they’ve done is walk further into “town,” and yet...

“Ah,” Noir exclaims, looking down at herself. “Our outfits have changed. Does that mean Akira-kun recognizes us as a threat?”

“Must be. We’re totally in the Palace now, huh...” Skull grunts, rolling his shoulders. He grips his bat tightly, staring at it. “Pretty nice that we still have our weapons, at least.” 

“Mmm,” Oracle hums, scanning the area. There’s a green glow all around, and she frowns, staring at the screen. “Weird. Er, well, not bad, but weird.”

“What is?” Queen asks, popping her knuckles, somehow, despite her weapon. 

Their navigator gestures towards the screen. “The thing is, there’s no shadows in this area… None. Nada. Zilch! Absolutely none. Ya think it’s ‘cuz it’s the First Circle? Didn’t you say that the First Circle was reserved for people who hadn’t done that bad?”

“Yes, I did.” She replies, staring at Oracle’s many, many screens. She narrows her eyes, and points to a reading that glints a bright, familiar shade of yellow. “What’s that, Oracle?”

“Nyehehe, I know that reading all too well! We’re getting kinda lucky here!” Oracle grins, looking almost fiendish. “C’mon, guys! That’s Mona!”

At her words, the Thieves begin to move, running through the bland terrain towards the familiar blip on the radar. The colors of the scenery don’t change, but the world around them begins to warp. Skull recognizes bits and pieces--he sees the road that Akira takes home, and they all stop in front of a large building… much larger than in the pictures Akira had sent.

The sign reads--24/7 Liquor! The Entrance To The Second Circle!--in big, bold, bright red letters. Queen stares, walking closer. She looks back at the Thieves, nods her head, and tries the door.

Predictably, it’s locked.

“Well, yeah. Coulda’ told you myself that was bound to happen. No fuckin’ way it’d be that easy. C’mon, we should find another way in. ” Skull kicks the door, and begins to look around for ways up or around the building. He pauses, as if struck by a sudden realization. “Wait, no, first--Mona.”

“Right, right!” Oracle nods, pulling up the screens again. She hums, zooming in in various places, muttering to herself as she examines what’s in front of her. “Huh. For starters, the sign’s a lie!” She shouts, pointing at it, looking completely offended.

“Is… it not a sign?” Fox asks, staring at it, tilting his head, trying to view it from another angle. 

“No, Inari!” She shakes her head at him. “C’mon, get with the times! The words on the sign! That’s the lie--this isn’t the entrance to the Second Circle at all! It’s the entrance to the First!”

“Deception,” Noir comments, reaching up to brush the tip of her axe against the sign. “I suppose that’s to be expected. Aside from being Akira-kun’s Palace, we mustn't forget that this is the Palace of the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Heart. Surely, he’s taken precautions of many sorts. I’m sure he knows all too well, the less difficult a Palace is, the easier it is to steal one’s Treasure. I can’t imagine this is going to be easy…”

At the gentle touch of Noir’s axe, the flashy text fades, along with the entire building. Again, in a flash of light, it transforms into a much smaller building… with a much different sign.

24/7 Liquor Shop. The Entrance to The First Circle. Welcome, Phantom Thieves of Heart.

A collective chill runs down all of their spines as they read the words written on the new sign. 

“He knew we were coming, y’think?” Skull asks, fiddling with his weapon, looking anxious.

“It’s hard to say, but...” Queen sets her hand on the doorknob. “I wonder if we can interpret this sign to mean we’re welcome? But either way, Akira’s not the most open person. So I think it’s safe to say more traps like this are to be expected. He’s not going to let us steal his Treasure that easily. We should be cautious as we press forward.” 

The group nods. Oracle presses a few buttons. “Even though the building changed, the readings are staying the same… Mona’s in here for sure. We should be cautious and all, but if we don’t move forward we won’t save him. So let’s go! Full speed ahead!”

Queen opens the door, and they walk inside.

“Oh, it’s… much bigger inside.” She says, looking around. It seems to be nighttime. “This is Akira’s town, isn’t it? It looks the exact same as before.”

“Yeah, but it’s nighttime now. What do you think that has to do with anything? And there isn’t anyone around. No shadows, no people…” Panther squints in the darkness, the streets illuminated by a dim light. As they walk, Panther glances at Queen, who has her chin in her hand, brows furrowed. “Are you okay, Queen?”

“Yeah, dude, you’re lookin’ kinda constipated--ow! Hey, Panther, what the hell!” Skull rubs the spot on his stomach where his teammate had elbowed him. 

Panther rolls her eyes. “Learn some delicacy already, geez!”

“I was just wondering…” Queen says, fists clenching in an almost unconscious motion. “About that sign. What do you think would have happened if we opened the door before the sign changed? Would it have been a false Second Circle? I suppose it doesn’t matter, really, but…”

“Hard to say.” Oracle mutters, scratching her head. “I think we’d only know if we, like, entered in it, and I don’t think any of us are super eager to find out, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have been anything good.”

“Perhaps it was some sort of test?” Noir asks, looking over at them. Her axe rests on her shoulders and she twirls it idly. “What was the Second Circle again?”

Queen pauses before responding, breaking eye contact. “Lust, I believe.”

“Oh.”

Fox nods his head, looking interested. “I, for one, am curious as to what our Leader’s ideas of Lust might be. Though the situation is loathsome, we are nearly guaranteed to understand our Leader better as we traverse through his Palace, yes?”

“Dude...” Skull sighs. “That’s a pretty positive way of lookin’ at it, I guess. Dunno if you should admit to being curious about Joker’s--uh, lust or whatever. Actually, let’s talk about something else. This conversation is getting weird.”

“Joker’s lust? ” Oracle says, raising an eyebrow at Skull. She seems amused. 

The blonde shakes his head at her, cheeks reddening. “S-Shut up! There’s no good way to word it, okay?!”

“I feel like all of this is gonna get weird no matter what we do. But man, just walking around sucks. I wish we had Mona, so we could at least drive around!”

“Come to think of it, Mona was with Akira, right?” Panther asks, turning to face her team as they walk. She’s walking backwards, and Queen raises an eyebrow at her, but the girl just smiles and waves her hand like it’s no big deal. “Do you think he’ll know anything about what happened? He’s somewhere here, right?”

“Yeah, he’s here. We still have a ways to walk, though… ugh. Sucks. Suuuuuucks. I’m tired of wallllkiiiiiing.” Oracle whines, drawing out her syllables as she hunches over. “Queen, can I ride your Persona? Please, pretty please?”

“I think I’d get tired out if you did that, Oracle… maybe ask Skull if he can carry you?”

“What?! No way! I am not carrying you.” 

“So mean! I bet if Joker was here, he’d carry me… I’m totally gonna ask him. First thing when I see him, I swear. I’m gonna ask him to carry me.” She nods to herself, seeming content.

“Um, yeah, sure you are. Dude’s probably gonna be all tired out, and first thing, you’re gonna ask him to carry you?” Skull shakes his head. “Hey, remember that time you ran towards him, saying he’d catch you, and he was all ‘No, Futaba, I’m holding coffee!’ but you kept on goin’ anyways?”

“Oh, yeah, I totally remember.” Oracle snickers, looking proud of herself. “He managed to not spill the coffee too, but Sojiro was still mad about it. Totally worth it, though! Heh.”

Silence falls upon the group as they walk, and eventually Oracle speaks again, quietly. “Hey… Having a--having a Palace doesn’t automatically make you a bad person, right...?” 

Queen doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but nods. “That’s correct. Most of the other Palace rulers’ distorted desires caused them to do horrible, horrible things. But in your case, it... wasn’t that you were a bad person. You were just hurting.”

“...Do you think he’s hurting, too…?” Oracle asks, and her voice breaks. It sounds like she’s going to cry. 

Panther slows her pace, walking by the smaller girl’s side, holding her hand tightly. “I think so, but it’s going to be okay, Oracle. We’ll find him. All of us. We’ll find him, and we’ll save him.”

Squeezing Panther’s hand, she nods, wiping away the tears from under her mask. “Okay. Yeah. I’m sorry, I just…” Oracle sniffles. “I’m just really worried. He--he never tells us anything about how he’s feeling, and…”

“It’s okay, I get it, man.” Skull says, voice comforting. “We’re all worried. Don’t sweat it. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Okay…” She mumbles, softly and still sniffling.

There’s loud voices in the distance, and Queen stops, stretching her hand out. “Wait. Do you guys hear that?”

“S-Someone, help!” A woman’s voice, sounding afraid.

“That’s a woman’s voice?! It sounds like she’s calling for help!” Panther says, turning her head in the direction of the voice. The group nods to each other, and they run in the direction of the voices that get louder with every step. 

“Get in the car!” A man’s voice says, gruff and threatening. He spews drunken obscenities, but they sound almost blurred and staticy in certain parts. The Phantom Thieves turn a corner, and they see--

Nothing.

Just an empty car, and black shadows, cast by nothing. They look at each other, confused. But then the voices start up again, loud, right in their ears.

“You damn brat! I’ll sue!”

“Where is that coming from?” Noir asks, turning around, curly hair bouncing with her movements. She glares down at the shadows, stepping on the dark figures cast by the dim street light, but no one’s around other than the thieves. “Is this… some sort of memory, perhaps?”

“Could it be when Shido tried to assault that lady? When Akira got arrested? But... why isn’t anyone here?” Skull asks, looking around. He stares up into the windows of a house nearby--the lights are on, and there’s a figure inside, making eye contact with Skull. The curtain shuts. “What the hell… Whoever’s in there totally just saw me, and they shut the damn curtain!”

“Uh, if you saw someone standing out your window with a skull mask and a huge bat, pretty sure you’d shut the curtain, too.” Panther replies, but when she turns her head to look in the windows of the other houses nearby, every single figure inside does the same thing. “That’s… weird. Those aren’t… Shadows in the houses, are they?”

Oracle shakes her head, pulling up screens. “No, that’s not it. They’re just cognitions… Since this is inside Akira’s heart, I guess this is how he sees the people in his town. They see something happening, they look right at it, and they don’t do anything about it… no matter what it is. It doesn’t matter unless it concerns them, and--wait--!”

“Huh?” Skull turns, looking over at their navigator. “What’s up, Oracle?” She’s typing away, zooming in, fingers moving as fast as lighting.

"That signal…!" Oracle says, breathless. She gapes at the screen for a split second more and then takes off running as fast as she can.

"Oracle?!" Queen shouts, and suddenly she's running, too. They all are. It comes as a shock, just how hard it is to keep up with Futaba's pace in this moment. "What could have caused her to run off like that?”

Noir looks over at her, concerned expression on her face. "For her to run off so suddenly without another word? There's only one option, isn't there? But, for some reason... I have a bad feeling about this…"

But they don’t stop running, following Oracle until she stops, standing in front of a house. The lights are on in what looks to be a bedroom on the second floor. Her chest is heaving, and she sucks in air as she tries to speak. 

“T-this is… The reading, it’s Akira! He’s inside!” 

“Shit, what’re we waiting for, then?!” Skull asks, and marches right up to the front door. He turns around at his teammates, gesturing, and they join him, but Queen has a frown that doesn’t fade.

“Skull, hold on a minute.” She says, glaring at the door like it’s insulted her. “Doesn’t this… feel a bit suspicious?”

Noir nods her head, looking uneasy. She glances at the nameplate that reads Kurusu. “I do believe it’s without a doubt, Akira-kun’s house, but… I can’t shake this feeling I have…”

“Yeah, but--listen, if Oracle says it’s Akira in there, then we gotta go inside. Waiting and hesitating isn’t going to help save our leader, y’know! Nothing’s gonna change if we just stand out here and wait for somethin’ to happen! We gotta go.”

“I agree with Skull. I mean, I know how Queen and Noir feel, but… I don’t want to risk just, what, waiting for him to come down? We don’t even know if he’s conscious right now, and he could be in danger up there or something!”

Eventually, Queen nods. “I… suppose you’re right. I’m sorry, I just can’t help but feel uneasy. But you’re right. Let’s go.”

Skull gives a brisk nod and opens the door, and they all walk in. They eye the mat at the door, but there aren’t any shoes in the entryway. “Sorry for intrudin’...” He mutters, looking around.

“Uh,” Panther coughs. “I don’t think you really need to say that. It doesn’t seem like his parents are home.”

“It’s just a cognition, anyways.” Oracle replies, taking in the entryway. “If you’re trying to make a good impression on his parents by being polite, you should probably do it in the real world. Anyways, the reading’s coming from upstairs, second bedroom on the right. Come on, let’s go.”

The Phantom Thieves head up the stairs, walk down the hall, and stop at the door. A cool breeze comes through the crack underneath the door. The light they saw from the window isn’t on anymore. Queen wraps a gloved hand on the doorknob, glancing at her fellow Thieves, who nod. She opens the door.

The breeze comes from the open window, where a familiar figure sits, legs crossed, with a smile on his face. The moonlight and the streetlight pour in through the window, and his shadow stretches across the room.

Joker’s sitting there, clad in his Phantom Thief outfit, smiling at them. “Hello, my beloved Phantom Thieves.” He doesn’t move. He just sits there, with an almost eerie grin on his face. His mask conceals parts of his expression, but there’s something… strange about him.

“Dude, you’re okay! What the hell happened to you? Why do you have a Palace? And why--” Skull stops, staring at his best friend. Staring at their leader. What’s wrong suddenly clicks, as the blonde looks straight into Joker’s eyes.

Gold.

Bright, piercing gold.

Joker’s grin widens. “Why, whatever is the matter, Skull?” He slips off the windowsill, walking towards the thieves. His footsteps don’t make a sound as he walks across the room. The walls, the floor, it all begins to stretch. The room changes into something else, something different. Joker strides towards Skull with purpose, with grace. He pauses, their faces close together. He reaches a red gloved hand out, running his fingers across Skull’s chest.

His cat-like smirk is complimented by the uncanny gold of his eyes. 

“...You’re… You’re not Joker.” Skull says, glaring into the Joker-look alike’s eyes. “Who are you?”

Not-Joker laughs, retracting his hand. He readjusts his gloves, an action all too familiar. He raises his brow at the group, feigning a hurt expression. It’s an amazing impression, truly--it almost looks real. Almost. But it dances in the uncanny valley of incorrect and untrue. It’s an act, a performance--not genuine emotion.

“What, has it been so long you’ve forgotten me? Or are you mad I missed your call? I’m sorry about that, by the way… as you can see, I was busy.” He gestures around to the room, which has changed into a strange mixture of his bedroom at his parent’s house, and his bedroom, LeBlanc’s attic. “Setting all of this up took quite some time, as you can tell…”

“Are you trying to say you… created all of this?” Queen asks, surveying Joker up and down. Suspicion is evident in her tone, her gaze, in her posture, and in the way her grip tightened around her weapon. Whoever this was, it wasn’t Joker.

“Indeed! And isn’t it grand! A perfect recreation, if I do say so myself, though--” He tilts his head, glancing at the couch. The poster that used to be there is gone, and Joker frowns, the expression both familiar and unfamiliar on his face. With a snap of his fingers, the large, bright red poster with the Phantom Thieves’ logo and slogan reappears. “That’s much better! Oh, and, hmm, how about, for old time’s sake…” Another snap of those red gloved fingers, and a chess table appears by his bed. He smiles, a flitter of sorrow crossing his face.

“Who are you?” Fox asks, teeth gritted. His hand rests on the sheath of his sword, and his rage is clearly evident. “And what have you done with our leader?”

Joker pauses, and turns, with a dramatic fwoosh of his jacket. He tuts at his teammate, shaking his head, a look of disappointment on his face. “My my, even you, Fox? I thought of all people, you, with the best eye, would be able to recognize me… I’m Joker, of course. What, will this help?” He lifts his mask up, tucking it into his wild mess of dark curls. His gaze is the same as the real thing--the long eyelashes, the quirk of the brow all remained the same. The only real difference was the gold in his eyes and the hostility lurking in his voice.

“...It’s true, you look just the same, however…” Fox mutters, stepping closer. His grip tightens, knuckles white. “Never again shall I be fooled by a deplorable imitation. I will ask once more. Who are you, and what have you done with our leader?” He stops, standing face to face with Joker, who smiles and reaches out to gently caress his teammate’s cheek.

The fingertips stroking his skin are familiar, but wrong.

“Come on, Yusuke. It’s me. It is me, Joker. But… not Akira.” 

Panther blinks, staring at him. “Not… Akira? But, Akira and Joker are the same person… Wait, are you his Shadow or something?” She glances over at Queen, who’s tension hasn’t ebbed.

Joker takes a step away from Fox, chin in his hand. “More or less, I suppose.”

“If that’s the case, you know where he is?” Skull asks, looking at their leader’s mirror image, still looking slightly confused.

“Indeed, I do.” He replies, playfully, cheerfully. “But I’m obviously not going to tell you.”

Queen narrows her eyes. “And why not?” 

Joker laughs, and begins to speak, in a voice that is all too familiar.

"The desires of a Phantom Thief are as elusive as their own self, surely you understand? They remain all too aware of the importance of treasures--not just priceless jewels or heaps of wealth and riches, no--but treasure of the heart. Phantom Thieves, Wild Cards, Trickers, like those such as I, such as yourselves, are more than aware of how quickly what is most important to you can slip out of your grasp like sand. You need not natural talent or impassable skill to excel as a thief, no! You need only the sleight of hand even a child does possess, and the charms of a pampered house cat, who's gluttony and instability know no limit.

"To steal what is most important, you need not but desire, and desire is easily obtained, easily warped. You rebellious souls know these words, these truths well, as they are etched into your hearts, your bodies, your bones. And, such a priceless, priceless treasure, one that even the most renowned Arsène Lupin might fumble in the attempt to steal, is not a treasure easily obtained,..."

He spins around, back to the Phantom Thieves. Joker turns to them with a smile, golden eyes glinting in the dim light. “... And, of course, I’m not going to let all of you lay your hands on something so precious… Nor will I give you the chance to.”

“Yeah, we don’t give a shit what you want!” Skull snaps. “We’re takin’ that Treasure, and we’re bringing Akira back, whether you like it or not!” 

“Wait, Skull.” Queen says, standing in her battle stance, eyes narrowed as she glares daggers at their leader's mirror image, her words directed at him. "...You're contradicting yourself. You say Phantom Thievery is something children are capable of, but you're also saying that even Arsène Lupin would have trouble stealing Akira's treasure? Answer me this--what is the truth, and what is the lie?"

Joker simply laughs, twirling his knife. "Oh, my dearest Queen. You are both intelligent and dimwitted at the very same time. It's most endearing."

Her glare sharpens, and Joker laughs again.

"You're within his heart, no? It is not the stealing of the treasure that is most difficult, it is the journey , treading down the beaten path of the Wild Card, who's rebellion burns far brighter and more fierce than even the flames of Hell he resides within. You are not rescuing a prince from a castle or tower--not even are you helping a prisoner escape from his cell--you are pulling a sinner out of Hell." He gestures at their surroundings with his red gloved hands, each move perfect and poised like he'd planned it all out, from second to second to second. It’s the same as before--he’s not showing emotion, and it’s less of a conversation and more of a performance, a work of art.  

They all watch in stunned silence. Queen clicks her tongue. “Who are you?”

“I told you already, did I not? I am Joker. And I’ll answer your other question, my dearest Queen...” He says, pointedly. His words flow effortlessly like water, as in abundance and as smoothly as water in a river. "You ask me what is the truth, and what is the lie, but the answer is simple.

“Here, there is no truth, and there are no lies. What is just and what is unjust do not exist! There's no such thing as right or wrong, for this world is filled with colors matching his morality: grey and grey and grey and grey! There are no villains and there are no heroes. There is no justice to be found in the depths of Hell--and there is no escape. If you press on, you will die here." He emphasizes his point with an over-dramatic flourish, jutting his finger to the ground, gaze cold, full of a chill sense of hostility.

Skull shakes his head. "No. No! We won't give up until we see him again. We'll never give up, no matter what!" He shouts, taking a step forward towards the mirror image of their leader, without even a tinge of fear or hesitation. His stance boasts determination and confidence alike. “We’re gonna save our leader! No matter what! Ya hear that, Akira?! We’re gonna come and get you, so just wait for us!” He points his finger at Joker’s chest.

And, beneath his mask, Joker's eyes widen. A real flash of emotion crosses his face--taken off guard, sent off kilter by their words. He's a little too vulnerable like this, a little too familiar. 

But that disappears as his expression smooths out, flattens, morphing into something unreadable as Joker returns to his trademark grin, the one he sports when he's on a roll, when he's ambushed shadows ten times in a row or managed to capture a particularly feisty Persona.

He smiles. His teeth are like knives, bared, violent and dangerous. They're lethal. They're just as much a warning as they are a request.

Stay away. Get out of here.

He turns, jacket dramatically swooshing as he begins to walk away. Joker waves one gloved hand. He turns his head just enough so they can see his expression, see the smirk stretched wide across his face, and the light reflecting his golden eyes.

"This is your last chance. You can still leave this place, if you turn back now. The second you go down further, your only escape shall be in death's embrace..."

"We already said it," Panther hisses, cracking her whip with a loud, violent snap. "We're not going to give up until we see him again, we're not going to die, and we are not going to lose him! We’re going to rescue him, no matter how far down in Hell we need to go!”

Joker chuckles. "I wish you the very best of luck, then. With not only the trek that will take you to the deepest pits of Hell, but with your newest challenge…" With a snap of the fingers, he disappears like magic. Like he was never there at all. His taunting laugh echoes, and his voice fills the room that he no longer occupies. "I bid you adieu, my dearest Thieves! May we meet again… And good luck.”

Skull smacks his weapon into the ground, frustrated. “Whaddya think he meant by telling us good luck with our newest challen--”

Before he can get the words out, red and black figures manifest before them, springing up from the ground like weeds.

“Look out! Enemies incoming… Five, ten, twelve--! Be careful, you guys!” Oracle shouts, and they all fumble to get their weapons at the ready, but it’s too late. They’re surrounded by a hoard of Shadows, all of whom look down on them with murderous intent in their eyes. “They’re coming--they’re small fry, but they’ve got you surrounded!”

The Phantom Thieves are pressed back to back as the Shadows unleash a slot of attacks--but what Oracle said was true, the power of the Shadows that had them cornered was nothing special. There was power in numbers, but there was power in brute strength, too. 

“Watch out! The ones on the left can block fire attacks--but if you freeze them, you should have a better shot at turning the tables!”

Fox gives a curt nod, pulling off his mask. “Kamu Susano-o!” Delicately intricate and breathtakingly beautiful trees of ice grow from the ground up, trapping the enemy shadows and freezing them solid. He turns, slapping his hand against Queen’s, passing the baton.

“Come, Anat! We’ll take them down!” She tears off her mask with fierce and fury, rage that’s bubbled up and over to the surface. The nuclear damage she casts begins to crack the Shadows, and the Phantom Thieves take that opportunity to change their positions. Each and every one of them leap up, brandishing their guns, pressing them into the temples of the Shadows. Queen’s voice, proud and confident, echoes through the room. “Let’s wipe them out!”

The Shadows go down quickly, what with their amazing teamwork and strong Personas. They disappear in flashes of red and black, tiny droplets floating into the air and vanishing. 

Queen heaves out a sigh, mask re-materializing on her face. “I suppose that’s what he meant by good luck. Even with the warning, that was really sudden… Does he control all the shadows around here, I wonder…?”

“It’s hard to say… other Palace leaders could summon shadows at will, right? I guess that makes that Joker Akira’s shadow, but… the readings--” A shadow’s slipped into the room without them noticing, too distracted by the other enemies they’d recently defeated. It creeps up from behind Oracle, gone completely unnoticed...

Noir looks over at her and gasps, readying her axe. “Oracle! Watch out, there’s--!”

But the Shadow is too close, sneaking up from behind their Navigator, ready to land a blow that’s sure to kill her in one hit--

A single shot rings out, hitting the Shadow straight in the head. Weak, it melts into black particles the second the bullet comes into contact with it’s flesh. The group turns, eyes wide, recognizing the haughty laugh that came from behind Oracle. In the doorway, and in front of their eyes stands a familiar figure, brandishing his slingshot with pride.

“You should really make sure you’ve defeated all the enemies before you start a strategy meeting! What are you, amateurs?” Mona asks, hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

The Phantom Thieves of Heart gape at their lost member before crying out and rushing towards him. “Mona!”

Chapter Text

“Did you miss me?” Mona asks, puffing his chest out. He doesn’t complain when Noir picks him up, hugging him tightly in her arms. “I’m glad to see you’re all okay, though…” He says, glancing around at all of them. He wiggles a little bit in Noir’s arms, and she gets the hint, letting him down.

“What happened, Mona-chan?” She asks, picking up her axe and hoisting it over her shoulder with ease. She looks around the room again--it’s returned to how it was before. “Were you with Akira-kun when…”

There’s a stretch of silence before Mona nods, looking solemn. “...I was.”

Skull frowns, lifting up his mask to tuck it into his hair. “So what happened, man?” He yanks out Akira’s desk chair, swirling it around to sit backwards on it. The rest of the Phantom Thieves take a seat wherever they can find one, looking at Mona with interest.

“Well, he hadn’t been acting all that different lately, but he was a little bit quieter… Not that he talked all that much in the first place, really, but… I just sort of chalked it up to him being anxious to talk to you guys, since, well…” Mona sighs, hopping up on Akira’s bed, where Panther, Oracle and Noir are sitting. Noir pulls him up in her lap, and he continues. “A few days ago, something happened. I’m sure you guys know that even though his name has been cleared, a lot of people are still treating him like a criminal…”

Skull grits his teeth, resting his elbows on the chair. “Yeah, we know. Shit effin’ sucks. He didn’t do anything wrong in the first place!”

“Yeah.” Mona agrees, nodding his head. “Do you remember when we talked about his old friends in this town, before he needed to move to Tokyo?”

“Yeah, I do!” Panther replies, leaning over. “Oh, but Oracle, Queen and Noir weren’t part of the Phantom Thieves yet when we talked about it, right? It feels like such a long time ago...”

“Ah, yes…” Noir says, with a somber expression on her face. “I wasn’t even aware Akira-kun had other friends in Tokyo until just now, actually..”

Skull clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nah. Those dudes weren’t fuckin’ friends. They went around shit-talkin’ Akira the second news got around. Right to his face, even! Even though apparently they had been friends since they were like, young n’ shit. Makes me so mad.” He kicks at the air, obviously irritated at his best friend’s mistreatment. “But, keep talkin’, Mona. What happened?”

“Well…”

Akira sighs, adjusting his bag’s strap on his shoulder. He reaches into his back pocket, checking his phone, but there’s nothing. He sighs again. 

“What’s wrong? You’ve sighed four times in the past ten minutes.” Mona asks, peeking his head from out of Akira’s school bag.

“Nothing.” He replies, and then pauses. “I’m just waiting for them all to text back, but I’m pretty sure Ann and Ryuji are taking their midterms still, Futaba’s in class, Yusuke’s working on something, and both Makoto and Haru are in class, too.”

“Heh,” The cat-not cat snorts, reaching out to nudge Akira’s arm with his paw. “So, basically, the great leader of the Phantom Thieves of Heart is feeling lonely?”

Fiddling with his bangs, Akira pointedly avoids Morgana’s bangs. “Or I’m just bored. You know there’s nothing to do here, Morgana. Unless you want to nearly fall in the river with me again?”

“I’m okay without doing that, actually.” 

They idly chat as they walk down the road back to Akira’s house, and as they walk, voices in the distance get slightly closer. “Seriously, I don’t know why they allowed him back… Just looking at him makes me nervous, y’know?”

Morgana catches Akira flinch, his gaze to the ground. He stops in front of the turn to his house. 

“What is it, Akira--”

“Shhh.”

They listen with strained ears as several voices continue speaking.

“Hey, did you hear about how he was on the phone on the rooftop at lunch?” A girl’s voice asks. Akira has his back pressed against the wall, a frown spreading across his face.

“Akira? Yeah, I did. Who do you think he was talking to?” 

Morgana’s eyes widen, and he makes a move to get out of Akira’s bag, realizing that the group of people were talking trash on Akira, who, unbeknownst to them, was standing right there and listening to every word. 

“Probably some friends he made in Tokyo. Geez, it’s surprising he’d find anyone there who’d actually talk to him. I guess Tokyo’s a big place?”

“Or he threatened them into it.” Another voice says, laughing. Akira’s grip on his bag tightens. Morgana’s frown deepens.

“Yeah, or they’re just violent freaks like he is. Seriously, no one normal would ever be friends with--”

Akira turns the corner, face set in a harsh glare. He meets the eyes of all of his former friends, and continues walking, silently down the path to his house. He doesn’t turn around to look at them, but despite his display of confidence, Morgana can feel his furious, shaking rage.

Once they’re out of earshot, Morgana speaks, looking up at Akira, who’s expression remains flat, but angry. “Are you okay? People like that are stupid. You shouldn’t listen to them, Akira. They don’t know anything.”

“I know.” He replies, unlocking and opening the door to his house, slipping his shoes off. No one’s home yet. “It doesn’t bother me. It just… makes me mad, that’s all.” He climbs the stairs up to his bedroom, setting his bag on his bed. Akira takes a seat at his desk, opening his laptop with a sigh.

Morgana hops out of the bag, leaping up onto Akira’s lap and sitting down. “Do you want me to go back and claw their eyes out? Because I will.”

Akira laughs at that, running his hand over Morgana’s head, petting him affectionately. “No, it’s okay. But if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know, Morgana. Thanks.” He retracts his hand, glancing at his laptop that’s still booting up. His gaze shifts to the framed photo he keeps on his desk. All of the Phantom Thieves squeezed together in one shot, in front of LeBlanc.

Everyone’s smiling, and happy. Akira touches the photo gently with his fingers, running his fingertips across the frame like it was much more delicate than it actually was. 

“Hey, Morgana?”

Ears twitching, Morgana looks up, already curled up on Akira’s lap. “What is it, Akira?”

The black haired male breathes out a sigh, pulling his hand away from the photo. He laughs, pulling Morgana’s ears back gently. “No, it’s nothing.”

“He was really upset about what they said, I think.” Mona says, quietly. His tail flicks with every word. “Earlier today, even though he was going to get on the phone with you guys, he seemed so… Like, he was happy, but he just seemed different. Like the light was gone from his eyes. And, late at night… I don’t think he’s gonna be happy with me if I tell you this, but…” 

“What is it, Mona-chan?” Noir asks, petting his head with a frown on her face.

“Recently, he’s been having a lot of trouble sleeping. He’ll go to bed when I tell him to, like always, but he just tosses and turns for a while. He’s been having nightmares, too… I just woke him up from them, and he thanked me, but even though I tried to ask him about them later, he just said it was fine, but…” Mona frowns. “I guess that wasn’t true…”

“It’s not your fault, Mona.” Panther says, comfortingly. “He’s been having nightmares, though… He didn’t tell us anything about that, though he has sent some messages at like, 3AM a couple times recently…”

“Mmm,” Mona mutters. “I don’t know how long before, but before we were all supposed to get on the phone, he was sitting at his desk and I was on the bed, and suddenly, I felt the Metaverse be active again. I don’t know how I can explain what that felt like, but when I went to tell Akira, he had gone limp in his chair, and…

“I jumped on him, and tried to wake him up, but suddenly we were transported somewhere else… For a while though, we were just falling… I tried to hold on, but we got seperated. I’ve been wandering around town on my own, trying to find him, but then I felt a presence from our house, and… well, you know what happens next.”

“I see…” Queen mumbles, chin in her hand. “Though we don’t know the specifics, it seems like Akira was struggling with something difficult… Something bad enough that it caused a Palace to manifest inside of his heart… And since you said the both of you fell, it stands to reason that Akira’s here somewhere, too, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think.” Mona nods, and he hops off Noir’s lap, onto the ground. He turns to face the thieves. “I think I already know your guys’ answer, but… I can tell where the Treasure is, but it’s really far down. It’s going to be a long journey, but… will you guys come with me, to help rescue our Leader, and change his heart?”

Skull snorts, standing. “Of course! We’d do it even if ya didn’t ask, Mona!” 

With a grin, Mona places his hands on his hips. “Well, yeah, but it’s becoming of a Phantom Thief to have manners! Not that you’d know anything about that, Skull…”

“Hey! Shaddup, cat!” 

Queen moves from where she’s leaning against the wall, putting herself in between Mona and Skull, before their fight escalates. “You said the Treasure is far down, right? So we should get on our way and try to find our way further down.”

“I agree.” Fox says, with a curt nod. “In that case, shall we get going? We do not yet know how far the steps down to the Second Circle might be, and I am quite sure you are all as eager as I to save our leader…” 

They all nod, standing from wherever they’re sitting, and begin to exit Akira’s room. Mona lingers behind, ear twitching. He glances at the desk, staring at the frame sitting on top of it. His tail flicks up in the air.

“Mona-chan, are you coming?” Noir calls, from outside the room. “There’s something strange about the stairs…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t go on without me!” Mona replies, sparing one last look at the frame. A stray thought lingers in his head as he exits Akira’s room: the frame’s empty, so where exactly did the picture inside go…?

“Okay, I’m here! What’s this about the stairs--oh.” 

What’s wrong with the stairs is obvious immediately. They aren’t the same as the ones before: now, they’re pitch black in color, sparkling with what looks like flecks of white and red glitter. They go down far enough that none of the Phantom Thieves can see what’s at the end. They all take a hesitant look at each other, raising their eyebrows.

Oracle pulls up screens, maps filled with blinking lights appearing. “...Huh. Well, it’s definitely going down, and there are lots of readings, so… I’d say it’s an okay guess to assume that’s the Second Circle, but it is kinda weird that the entrance is like, right here in his house.”

“Well, we gain nothing with hesitation.” Fox says, beginning to walk down. “And I have, indeed, been curious about Joker’s lust, so let us continue on.”

“Can we please drop the whole ‘Joker’s lust’ thing, already…” Skull begs, shaking his head.

Mona stares at them as they all traverse down the stairs. “What the heck have you guys been talking about while I was gone? Geez… weirdos.”

As they walk further and further down the stairs, distant music and chattering voices can be heard. It doesn’t sound particularly malicious, though the Phantom Thieves do glance at each other as the sounds get closer. 

“...Let’s keep our guards up. We don’t know what’s waiting for us up ahead, after all…” Queen says, nodding to her teammates. They nod back.

It turns out, what’s waiting for them up ahead, or rather, down below, is something that looks frighteningly similar to a club. The lights are low and music plays in the background. The crowd is filled with various Shadows, none of whom seem… hostile. 

Queen sees the slightly sexual way some of the Shadows are dancing, grinding up to each other, and briefly considers covering Oracle’s eyes. And Mona’s. And her own. Everyone’s, actually. None of the Shadows seem to take note of them as they step off the stairs, looking around.

“Is this a club?” Fox asks, looking around. “The lighting makes it rather hard to see… Oh! Is this mist? Ah, I see a fog machine…” 

Skull’s shaking his head. “Y’know, out of all the things, I really didn’t expect it to be a club, but I guess it makes sense… though the fog machine makes it seem more like a shitty house party than an actual, like, club.”

“What, have you been to a club?” Panther asks, brow raised. Skull shakes his head. “It’s more like that seedy bar Akira used to work at--hey, do you see that? There’s a couple of rooms…” She points them out. Along the walls of the club, there are several doors--probably totalling around 20.

“Geez. That’s way too many doors, what the hell? We’re trying to just get down, right? So, what, should we look for some stairs or somethin’...?” Skull asks, looking utterly lost. A feminine Shadow seems to notice him, and with a grin, walks over.

“Hiya! It’s rare for such a large group to arrive all at once. Do you folks need…” She looks them over, a grin on her face. In a completely non-subtle fashion, she licks her ruby red lips. “... Help with anything?”

The blush that appears on Skull’s face is immediate, and he splutters. Queen sighs, pushing past him and walking up to the Shadow.

“Yes, actually. Do you know a way down?” 

The Shadow giggles, walking closer to Queen, placing a hand on her waist. “Oh my, you’re so forward… that’s my favorite type of woman, you know… Although, I don’t mind the shy type… ahaha, no one around here is picky~” She flutters her eyelashes at Queen, who frowns.

“Do you know a way down?” She repeats, and the Shadow pouts.

“Aw, you’re no fun. You’re not even gonna play along a little? Geez, it’s no wonder you’re aiming to go down… It doesn’t seem like any of you would fit in here. But, sorry, I don’t know! You’ll probably need to try and ask someone else. Let me know if you need help with anything more fun, though~” And just like that, she disappears into the crowd, hips swaying as she walks.

Panther steps on Skull’s foot. He hisses with pain, glaring at her. She rolls her eyes. “Jaw off the ground, idiot. Though, geez, I seriously feel like a hurricane just passed through…” 

“I think I know how you feel.” Oracle says. She peers through the crowd. “Jeez. Did you see her chest? They were huge! And damn, that lipstick! It was redder than Panther’s suit! Uh, wait, no, I can’t get distracted. Information, huh… should we just ask around? Split up and look for clues and all that?”

“Honestly, I don’t think splitting up is the best idea… the crowd’s rather large. I feel like if one of us got lost, well…” Noir shakes her head. “Let’s all try and stick together.”

“I agree.” Queen says, nodding her head. “Let’s stay close. And don’t get distracted! We’re here for information on how to get further down. Let’s try asking around.”

As it turns out, most of the shadows don’t have any information of note. Most of them just flirt, but at least they don’t get handsy, aside from a hand on the shoulder or waist, paired with fluttering eyelashes or a coy grin. 

None of the Shadows seemed to have a preference for gender, looks or personality. In the Second Circle, anything seemed to go. Feeling completely defeated and slightly exhausted, the Phantom Thieves lean up against a wall where the crowd is thin.

“There’s way too many people here…” Oracle mutters, seeming uncomfortable. “And I’m getting kind of tired of hearing the same music. I can’t even make out the words! They’re like, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now’ ...?--that’s not even sexy! That’s just dumb!”

“Ahaha, I don’t think that’s what they’re saying…” Noir laughs, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “I think the lyrics are…’I’m sorry, can you make the music louder? ’”

“Oh. Well, that makes more sense.”

“That aside, we really haven’t made much progress in terms of information, have we…” Fox sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re looking for information?” A voice asks, and the thieves turn, staring at the Shadow that’s floating in the air near them. It’s skin is a pink-ish red, and it has wings and a tail, along with… something protruding out of it’s crotch. They all try not to stare. “Well, I’ve got some information for you, but I won’t give it up for free…”

Not staring at the protruding phallic object from the Incubus’ crotch is proving incredibly difficult. Fox stares without any sense of shame, eventually looking up to meet the Shadow’s eyes.

“Very well, what is it?”

Incubus laughs. “My eyes are up here, y’know!” He laughs heartily, seeming amused. “You’re staring shamelessly, aren’tcha, Foxy man?”

“Ah, my apologies.” He replies, bowing his head. “It wasn’t my intent to stare, but I couldn’t help it. The colors of it matched so well with the color of your skin. I was momentarily enhanced--do forgive my rudeness.”

The Shadow blinks at Fox, taken off guard, and then he laughs again, loud and boisterous. “Y’know what, it’s been a while since someone’s responded to me like that. I’d say since ever, really! That’s good enough for me. You lot are looking for information on how to get down, yeah?”

“Indeed we are.”

“Well,” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m not 100% sure on how to get down, really, but you’re wanting to go down to see the prisoner in the Ninth Circle, right?” 

Queen’s brows raise in shock. “So he is in the Ninth Circle… You’re referring to… Akira, right?”

“Pretty sure that was his name, yeah. Black hair, curly… pretty toned, though, and he has a decent sized--”

Skull coughs. “Uh, okay, what’s the information you got?”

Fox looks a little disappointed at the interruption, but Incubus continues speaking. “Right, well, I’m not sure how useful this will be, but I know for sure behind one of the doors is the way further down, to the Third Circle. You gotta be reallllly insatiable to go down there, though! Most folk’re satisfied with what they find here, so rarely anyone goes down further, but I’ve heard that if you’re able to find your way through the doors, you can go down if you wanna.”

“That’s… helpful, actually.” Queen replies. “Thank you.”

“Heh, don’t sweat it!” Incubus laughs, and flaps his wings a bit harder. He starts to linger closer to the crowd, waving the goodbye with a smile. “Good luck on your way down. Don’t stare too much, though, hahaha!” 

“Hm… That was actually quite useful. We now have a lead, do we not?” Fox asks, turning towards the thieves. “Shall we start checking the doors, then?”

“There’s a fuck ton of em, though… ugh, I get the feeling this’ll take us a while.” Skull mutters, ruffling up his hair. “Let’s get started then, I guess…”

They make their way around the club, finding that most of the doors were locked, some even boarded down. They stand in front of another door, and Queen rests a gloved hand on the knob. It turns, and they all look at each other. 

They enter without hesitation, only to find… what looks like a doctor’s office. It’s small, with just a desk, a chair, and a patient’s bed. A Shadow is sitting at the desk, her legs propped up on it. A snake, coming from her backside, is curled around her thighs. “Oh, hello!” She greets, with a sly smile. She turns to face them. “Here for a checkup?”

“Ah, no.” Queen says, slightly awkwardly. 

The members all seem to realize that this doctor’s office is the same one located near LeBlanc. Mona, in particular, seems slightly uncomfortable, staring at the patient’s bed. He clears his throat. “We’re here for information.”

“I see…” She replies, glancing at them up and down. “On the prisoner, I’d wager?”

“Yes.” Queen replies, and the Shadow laughs. 

“So honest. Well, I have information. Let’s see…” She ruffles around on the desk, before procuring a paper. The thieves can see Akira’s name written at the top, along with what looks like a blurry photo of him. “Right! He worked in a place similar to this, for a while, acting as a guinea pig for a certain doctor, in exchange for under the table medicine…”

“He did what? ”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” The Shadow replies, turning, brows raised. She grins, and laughs. “Well, it’s true! He basically sold his body for the sake of that higher strength medicine--but not in the way you’re thinking. Although, I can tell you he certainly wouldn’t have minded it… That doctor’s gaze was certainly alluring, what with her commanding tone and the special pet name she gave to him… The prisoner certainly wouldn’t have struggled if she gave him a… special examination, if you know what I mean…” She winks.

Every single member of the Phantom Thieves has gotten rather red.

“Um.” Queen starts, her voice sounding rather strained. “That’s. Nice, um. Do you have any other information… like, how to get down…”

“Oh!” The Shadow exclaims, and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“Great!” Queen says, through gritted teeth. “Thanks for your… help. Yeah, okay. Let’s leave.” They give the Shadow a wave goodbye and promptly leave, the door slamming behind them. The flush hasn’t quite left any of their cheeks just yet.

“I don’t think I can look that doctor in the eyes ever again.” Skull deadpans, mussing up his hair with his hand. “Let’s just… keep goin’, yeah? I’m sure we’ll find some actually useful information soon. Hopefully.”

Turns out, finding useful information is much easier said than done. The Phantom Thieves of Heart are taken on a long list of requests--get me a drink and I’ll tell you how to open that door, hook me up with Lilith and I’ll give you the key to that other door--and now they stand in front of another door, weary and worn out from the atmosphere.

“I hope the Third Circle is less…” Queen sighs, waving her hand vaguely.

“Horny?” Skull supplies, and Queen sighs again, but nods her head. “Well, we only have so many doors left, so let’s just… check this one and hope they have some more useful information, I guess.”

They open the door, and much like some of the other doors, it leads to a room with more doors. The thieves sigh, but as Skull looks around, he points and gasps to a familiar sign.

“Untouchable… Hey, wasn’t that where we get our weapons n’ shit?” He walks up to the door, opening it without a second thought, but he pauses as his hand rests on the handle. “...For some reason I’m a little bit worried about what the shadows’ll have to say in here. Someone else open the door.”

“What? All that build up for nothing…” Oracle shakes her head. “Just open the door, Skull! You started it!”

“Oh my god, fine, but I swear to god if I hear one word from the shadows about how Akira thinks the dude workin’ at this shop is sexy, I am going to scream.”

As Skull enters, he makes eye contact with the Succubus sitting at the counter, and promptly turns around and shuts the door. “Nope.”

Panther shoves him out of the way. “Okay, fine, I’ll do it. Let’s just get this over with. We’re running out of rooms to check, so we barely have a choice. We’re looking for information, and beggars cannot be choosers, Skull.” She opens the door, and the Succubus waves, though her brow is raised and she looks rather amused.

“Hiya. Can I get you folks anything? Or are you just browsing around?” 

“Oh, um, well!” Panther coughs, as the rest of the thieves file in. It’s an exact replica of how the actual shop looked--sans Iwai sitting at the counter--and the group look around in awe. “I guess we’re kinda looking for information, if you had any?”

Her eyes narrow, and she lifts her legs up to rest on the counters. The sharp point of her heel is aiming directly at the thieves like she’s pointing to them. “Not for free, I’m afraid.”

Queen sighs. “Okay, what were you wanting? A drink? For us to set you up with someone?” The pounding bass from the club seeps into the room they’re in. Queen rubs at her temples, irritated.

The Shadow laughs. “Sorry, I’m not as easy as everyone else is. There’s something… more particular I’m interested in, if you catch my drift.” She pairs her words with a sly wink, gesturing towards Panther. 

“Wh--no way!” Panther says, face flushing. “I have no idea what you’re thinking, but it’s a no!”

“Hm, well, no information for you, then.” 

Queen clicks her tongue, striding up to the counter. She leans forward, pulling out her gun and pressing the barrel to the Succubi’s temple. “We want information. Now.”

She stares it down. “Do you really think one single gun pressed to my forehead will scare me?”

“Fine.” Queen gestures towards the rest of the thieves, and they surround the Succubus, guns all aimed directly at her. She stares them down, a bead of sweat dripping down her cheek.

“Okay, okay.” The Shadow says, a little bit nervously, staring down the multitudes of gun barrels pointed at her. “You want information, right? On this place’s prisoner?! I have information, so don’t shoot me. I don’t want to die. I haven’t even had a foursome yet...”

The air stills, awkward silence filling the air. Queen clears her throat, and Fox tilts his head at the Shadow. 

“Does this imply you’ve at least had a threesome?” He asks, and a good majority of the Phantom Thieves choke with his question. Fox looks back at them, brow raised. “Whatever is the matter? I was simply asking a question…”

“I… totally didn’t think of you as the sorta guy who’d know what a foursome is, dude…” Skull says, scratching the back of his neck. 

Oracle nods her head. “Me either. Damn, Inari! You’re into some freaky shit, huh!”

Fox frowns, indignant. “I never said I was particularly into such things, however--”

“Can we please, ” Queen says, turning to glare at her teammates. “Get back on track? Yes, we are looking for information. Tell us everything you know.”

The Shadow doesn’t seem weirded out or even surprised by their back and forth. She just giggles, pushing herself up into the air, wings flapping. “Everything, huh? Well, I know for a fact that this palace’s prisoner used to work here at this shop. Y’know, this gun store.” She punctuates her words with a wave of the hand, her manicured nails glinting in the light. “Hehe. If you ask me, it’s more of a gun show. And doesn’t our prisoner think that! I’ve heard that he can’t get enough of the way that hunk of a man calls him a ‘brat’ and a ‘misbehaving kid’...

“But you can’t blame him for finding that hot, right~? Have you seen that man?! Anything that comes out of his mouth is like liquid chocolate! I could listen to that gruff voice allllll day… and the prisoner could, too! Especially combined with that sultry gaze and that well toned body… The prisoner’s interested in his secret menu, if you catch my drift. So how’s that , huh? Is that good enough information for you?”

If it weren’t for how genuinely proud the Shadow seemed, the Phantom Thieves might have believed she was just pulling their leg. Queen sighs, cocking her gun. “Useless. Any more?”

The Shadow swallows her spit as she stares down the barrel. “Unless you’re interested in all his fantasies about the Gun Shop’s owner, then… no.”

“Get out of our sight before I change my mind about letting you live.” Queen says, gun pressed against the shadow’s temple. She scampers away, disappearing in a flash of black and red. Queen sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Mona watches her do this with a frown on his face. “If only Joker were here, then we’d be able to tell which shadows have useful information, and which ones have… too much information.”

"I for one, have been particularly curious about our Leader's tastes. I believe I can say with certainty that my curiosity is sated." Fox says, sheathing his weapon, nodding his head to himself. Skull and Oracle shoot each other a look.

“That aside,” Noir starts, looking around at all the shadows. “Aren’t Palaces full of too much information by design? I feel as if we’ll be learning a lot of things about Akira-kun, probably things he… might not want us to know…” She trails off, squinting at a shadow visible in the distance of the club. Her finger twitches, and she holds her axe a little tighter.

“Like how sexy he thinks Iwai is? I’m soooo gonna tease him for that later.” Oracle snorts, impish grin on her face.

“Moving on!” Queen cuts in, clearing her throat. “Let’s… keep looking around for the way down, shall we? I think, whether we like it or not, we’ll be learning a lot more things about our leader than just his… preferences. Okay. Moving on. We’re finding the way down now.”

The hustle and bustle of the club continues in the background as the Phantom Thieves try and find a new lead. Noir can hear her teammates talking, but their voices slowly fade away as she runs her fingers over the wall.

“Is something wrong, Noir?” Mona asks, noticing the way she’s… caressing the wall. 

“Oh!” She replies, turning around, suddenly aware of her actions. “Hmm, I’m not quite sure… it’s just, the color of this wall seems rather strange, I wonder if I could--” Noir looks around. No one seems to be paying much attention to them, and with a swift movement, she peels away the wallpaper to reveal…

A metal door. The outer rim is covered in bolts and it seems to be made out of a heavy duty steel. It looks like the door you’d find in an apocalypse bunker. Noir glances back at her teammates, eyebrows raised. A small gasp falls from her lips as she tries to peer in the window in the door, but the glass is too foggy to see.

“A hidden door…” She says, and runs her fingers down the metal of the door. “It gives you a weird feeling, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Oracle agrees, nodding her head. “It’s probably hidden for a reason. Should we… go inside?”

“...I don’t know.” Queen says, brows furrowed. “It… gives me a weird feeling. Doesn’t it make you guys feel a little bit… uncomfortable?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah.” Skull stares at the door up and down. “But we’re runnin’ out of doors to check. Let’s just open it and get it over with.”

The door requires quite a bit of force to open--Noir, Skull and Fox push it all together, and it finally creaks open. Some of the Shadows look over at the noise.

Mona sees one of them gasp, and dart away. He narrows his eyes, turning back to the now open door. It seems like… a hallway, but it’s completely dark. “C’mon, team. Let’s go.”

The second they’re all in, the door slams behind them. Queen grits her teeth, obviously rattled by the sudden darkness. Panther squints, reaching out to pull off her mask. “Hecate.” A burst of fire erupts from her gloved hand. The gentle glow of an agi lights their way.

It is a hallway. There’s an assortment of candles on the wall, and Panther lights them with ease. 

The walls and floor were all the same steel grey as the door was, and as the thieves walk, their footwear clinks against the ground, echoing loudly. Though the light had returned, the creepy aura of the hallway they’d found themselves in hadn’t faded.

“There’s a door…” Panther says, and she stops in her tracks. “Wait, isn’t that…”

The interrogation room door in front of the thieves seems to be taunting them, laughing at them. The implications were obvious, unpleasant, and absolutely horrifying. Why would this door be in the Second Circle… Why would it be hidden, like it'd been shoved aside and forgotten? There was only one answer, wasn’t there?

Queen stops, too, staring at the door. The familiar door… She shakes her head, wrapping her arms over her chest. “The implications of this are… unpleasant.”

“I… am not quite sure if I want to go inside.” Noir says, softly. She’s looking at the ground, rather than the door, and seems to be shaking.

“You don’t have to, man. But we do need to go inside. If… if there’s a chance we can get any info, we gotta take it, right? Maybe it… won’t be as bad as we’re all worried about.” Skull speaks in a measured tone but his teeth are gritted and he doesn’t seem to believe his own words. “Let’s just get this over with.”

A familiar Shadow, Lilim, smiles at them as they enter, but it’s not the same teasing or flirty smile that the rest of the Shadows in the Second Circle had sported. It’s one of resignation, and a deep seated sadness. 

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Lilim starts, looking around the room. It lacks the furniture of it’s real life counterpart. There’s nothing but a security camera, stains on the ground, and several empty needles. “The things people will do when they drown in their desire.”

She laughs, lightly, pitifully. Lilim shakes her head, and looks at the thieves, all of whom are looking away. They’re averting their eyes from the painful, painful truth. Many of them were gripping their weapons so tightly their knuckles turned bone white. Lilim laughs again. It lacks any sort of positive emotion or warmth.

“Here, in the Second Circle, all sorts of things are on display. Desires, memories, fantasies… All types of lustful thoughts rest here, including the ones that you might want to forget. The type of desire that brings forth fear. The most sick, and twisted, disgusting desire… belonging to those who’d force themselves on others. Others, like a pitiable Phantom Thief.”

The tension in the room is like a string, pulled too taut.

“A high schooler, drugged, bound and beaten… Unable to fight back. Unable to resist. Unable to do anything but accept.” She eyes them, and a small smile makes its way across her face. “My my. You all look so flustered. Tell me, Phantom Thieves of Heart… Does the truth make you burn? Does it make you seethe with rage…? The parts of the past you cannot control. The pain, the trauma, that you cannot undo… I can feel your murderous, vicious anger.

“That’s desire, too. The desire to tear apart those who hurt what’s most dear to you… Ah, I’m sorry. I can’t say anymore. That man will get oh-so-angry with me… Goodbye for now. You’d do well to remember this… Remember that you’d be willing to do anything for those you love...”

And then, she disappears like she’d never been there at all. The room begins to fade, and the Phantom Thieves make their way out. Upon their exit, the door disappears. It vanishes into nothing.

Noir curls up in on herself, sobbing softly. Panther, gently, soothingly, rubs her back. There’s a glare on her face and a vicious rage burning in her eyes that has been reignited. Her jaw is tightly set.

Fox shakes with fury, fists clenching. He can’t help but bare his teeth. Oracle stares, blankly, where the door used to be. Mona frowns, looking down the hallway. Queen glares at the ground, looking like she’s bursting at the seams.

Skull slams his hand into the metal wall. “Fuck. Fuck! What fucking bullshit. What… what fucking bullshit!” He aims a kick at the wall, ignoring the pain that resurfaced with his action. He pulls his hands through his hair, tugging hard at the messy blonde strands. “Fuck. Fucking shitty ass adults. Guys, we’re… we’re saving him. We’re saving Akira. No fucking matter what. No matter what we see, no matter how bad it gets. If that--

“If that’s the kinda shit he’s been through, and didn’t tell us about--and this--this is just the fucking second floor, isn’t it? If this is the kinda shit that appears early on, then he’s…” Skull bites down so hard on his lip he draws blood. “Then he’s probably been hurtin’. This whole time. And we didn’t know. And that--that sucks. That fucking sucks! This fucking blows! I--I dunno how alone that guy’s been feelin’ this whole time, but we’re putting an end to it! We’re gonna reach the bottom and we’re gonna save him, okay?!”

“You’re right.” Panther says, her curls moving with the nod of her head. “We’re going to save him. And… and if he’s really been hurting, all this time, in silence, then… he must have been so lonely. So, let’s make sure he’s never lonely again. He did the same for us, right?”

They all nod their heads, agreeing. Despite the painful truth they’ve just come to face, their morale is high. Perhaps it’s because of what they’d just learned that they’re even more motivated to save their leader.

“Let’s push on, then. This hallway goes on for a little bit longer, and the door’s shut, so this has to be the way down! Let’s go, team!” Panther shouts, raising her fist in the air.

There’s only two other doors at the end of the hallway, and they’re both locked. The door on the left is red, and the one on the right is orange. The thieves stare at each other, and then back at the doors. 

“I wonder if there’s some kind of trick with the doors here, like there’ve been in other places--” Queen runs her fingers against the left door’s window, and the door begins to shudder and shake. Static appears from the middle outwards, and the door changes from red to black, with a familiar logo in the middle.

“The logo of the Phantom Thieves?” Fox asks, running a gloved hand over it. “Hm, it appears to be etched in…” He tries the door handle, but to no avail. 

From behind them, a throat clears.

As the thieves turn, a smiling Shadow greets them. Lilim, but it’s unclear if she’s the same one as before. She gives them a little wave. “It’s pointless to try and open it.” 

“Why is that?” Queen asks, looking at the Shadow up and down. “Can it not be opened?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” She giggles, and flies over to the door. She wraps her hand around the doorknob and turns it with ease, but doesn’t make a move to open the door. “It can be opened. Just not by any of you. No matter what.”

“But you can open it.” Queen says, reaching for her gun. She whips it out with ease, brandishing it to Lilim, who doesn’t even seem remotely intimidated. She giggles, pushing the gun away with the tip of her pointed fingernail.

“I can. But there’s no point in me doing that. That door won’t open if any of you are around. Besides, you’re all looking for a way down, right? It’s not the right door. The other one--” She gestures at the orange door. “If you’re aiming for the Third Circle, you need to take that door.”

“...Why won’t it open if we’re around?”

Lilim giggles, flashing a playful wink. “Don’t you want to know?” She taps the Phantom Thieves logo. “I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll get your answer. But I wouldn’t dwell on it too much. Anyways, I can help you. I can unlock the door you need to go down.”

“How are we supposed to know you’re not lying to us?”

Lilim gestures towards Oracle. “She can check. The readings should tell you that you can go down from there. From that door. Right?”

Oracle pulls up her screens. Eventually, they disappear, and she nods. “She’s… telling the truth. It seems like behind that door is a way down.”

Queen cocks her gun. “Do it, then. Open the door.”

The Shadow laughs, throwing her head back. Her wings flap with the hilarity of it all. She’s not intimidated whatsoever. She doesn’t even seem slightly afraid. “We need to strike a deal first. It’s not all that fair to me if I just open the door for you, now is it?”

“Sure.” Queen replies, easily. “You open the door, and we’ll let you live.”

“What a shame that’d be.” Lilim replies, grin spreading across her cheeks. She caresses Queen’s cheek playfully. “I’m the only one who knows how to open that door. None of the other Shadows around here can… You wouldn’t be able to go down further. You’d die here. All of you. But that’s not so bad, is it? The Second Circle is a pleasant place to die. I can return you all back to the dance floor, and you can indulge yourselves in pleasure until you draw your last breath...”

“Shit,” Skull curses, underneath his breath. “We kinda have to agree now.” 

“...What do you want?” Queen asks, and Lilim lifts herself up into the air, wings fluttering.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Shadow laughs. “Here, in the Second Circle, everyone wants the same thing. Everyone desires but one thing…”

“Holy crap.” Oracle splutters. “I think I’ve read a doujin like this! You can’t leave until you fu--”

“We--” Skull interrupts, his face red. “--Are not doing that!”

“Fine.” Lilim says, and begins to turn away. “No Third Circle for you then. Sucks to suck! Or to not suck, I suppose.”

Silence settles in between the Phantom Thieves and eventually Oracle sighs, turning and slapping Skull on the back. Hard.

“Well, it’s up to you now, Skull!”

“ What?! What the ‘eff, man?! Why me?!”

Oracle blinks at him, and shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna lose your virginity otherwise, right? It’s like, two birds with one stone or whatever?”

Skull all but screeches into his hands, red to the tips of his ears, muttering various curses into his yellow gloves. He shakes his head at his fellow thieves. Oracle pushes him closer to Lilim, and he groans. She smiles.

“I’m… not gonna do anything like you’re all eggin’ me on to do, but…” Skull scratches the back of his neck, ears bright red. “There’s something I will do, though. I… kinda get the feeling it’s something Akira wants, but won’t ever admit to, so… I’m just hopin’ that it’ll work on you, too.”

The thieves look at each other in confusion, watching and waiting for Skull to act.

He walks closer, leans in, and…

Pulls Lilim into his chest, hugging her tightly. She gasps, her arms hanging limply at her sides for a couple seconds, but then... slowly, she wraps her arms around him, shutting her eyes and burying her face in Skull’s shoulder. 

The orange door clicks open. Lilim pulls away, her cheeks a bright, glowing red. She looks away, indignant. “I-It’s a one time thing, okay?! Normally that wouldn’t have worked, so--! Hurry up and go before I change my mind and keep you locked in here forever!”

The thieves start making their way down, and Skull grins, turning to follow his teammates down the stairs. He gives a small wave to Lilim, though he looks embarrassed. “Thanks!”

“...Just go before I change my mind!”

The door shuts behind them, and their loud voices are still audible as they head their way down.

“Kinda sucks for you though, Skull!” Oracle laughs. “Now you’re never gonna lose your virginity! That was like, your one chance!”

“Aw, shaddup! Stop mentionin’ it already!”

Lilim runs her fingernails gently down the door the thieves had exited through, shaking her head to herself. She speaks in a quiet, soft voice, hugging herself tightly. “...Maybe that was all I really wanted… Just to be held by someone who cared… Maybe that could have been good enough.”

She shakes her head again, and begins to walk away from the two doors, making her way back to the club-like dancefloor of the Second Circle, to lose herself in the music. Lilim gives a parting glance to the door.

“...Please be safe, my beloved Thieves…”

Chapter Text

The first thing the Phantom Thieves realize about the Third Circle is that it’s fucking freezing. The second thing they realize is that there’s no way in Hell--literally--that they’re able to walk around in the Third Circle. It’s hailing hard, and the ground is covered with slush and snow alike.

But aside from those two facts, it’s hard to see just where exactly they are.

Fox peers out the window, eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the area surrounding them, but eventually he shakes his head. “It’s no use. The weather makes it impossible to see.”

“Ow!” Mona cries, his engine revving. “That hail hurts! Ugh! I wanna get out of here already! It’s all wet and cold and I keep getting hit in the head with hail!”

“Aww, poor Mona-chan.” Noir says, petting the inside of the car affectionately. “It’s okay, I’m sure we’ll find our way down soon enough!”

“Yeah, but seriously, where the hell are we? All I can see is snow, snow and more snow. There aren’t even any Shadows, which I guess is good, but… maaaan, this kinda blows. At least it’s warm enough in here…” Skull shakes his head, rubbing his hands together. “It just kinda seems like we’ve been going in circles for a while…”

Sighs fill the Monabus, and Queen adjusts the rearview mirror to view the team. “Maybe this is like some of the other parts of the Palace. Once we figure something out, the path down further will reveal itself?”

“That’s all well and good but,” Skull leans back in his seat, groaning. “What’re we even supposed to figure out? There aren’t any Shadows around to get information from. There’s literally nothing here.”

Oracle hums in her seat, tapping away at screens. “You know, it’s really weird.”

“What is?” Fox asks, leaning forward to see what their navigator is looking at. “Oh! Do you mean the topography of this Circle?”

“That’s exactly it. It’s kinda weird… What Skull said is right, we have been going in circles for a while… well, sorta a circle, sorta not…”

“What do you mean, Oracle?” Queen asks, making eye contact with the other girl through the rearview mirror.

“It seems like the Third Circle is a sphere, almost! It’s not the Third Circle, it’s the Third Sphere!--eh, that doesn’t work. It’s the only one so far that’s been a sphere.” She shrugs. “It seems like every floor in his Palace is way different from the rest. It keeps things fresh, I guess, but…”

“A sphere, hm…” Fox says, thoughtfully. He peers out the window again, framing the scenery with his hands. He’s silent for a few long moments and then he lets out a quiet gasp. “Ah! I do believe what Oracle is saying is correct. We’re travelling on a sphere, yes, but more specifically… I think we’re on a globe of some sort.”

“Huh?” Skull’s eyebrows raise and he leans in close to the window, squinting and trying to see what exactly the others were seeing, but… “Yeah, I totally don’t see it. But when you say globe, do you mean like… a world globe?”

At Skull’s words, the world begins to shake. Inside the Monabus, the thieves grip onto whatever they can hold for safety. Everything starts spinning, and the tires screech, a horrifying and startling noise. Queen tries to press down on the brakes or turn the wheel, but she can’t. They’re spinning completely out of control--!

The Monabus goes in circles, around and around, before skidding to a stop. Queen’s white-knuckling the wheel, slamming her foot down on the break hard enough that an audible creak echoes throughout the Monabus.

After a good five minutes of car related, potentially life threatening terror, they’ve finally come to a stop.

Fox looks out the window. “Ah! Look outside. It seems we were right about this being a world globe… look where we’ve stopped.”

The terrain they’ve stopped on, a familiar country… Written on the ground they’re riding on is the word--’Japan’. The Third Circle was indeed a world globe, and the Phantom Thieves had been going around in circles on it for quite some time…

“Uh, is the world shakin’ again, or is that just me--”

Cutting Skull off, they start to spin again, wildly in circles, like a top. As they continue to turn, the ground underneath them gives, and inside of the Monabus they all start to fall through a sudden hole in the ground. They fall, and fall, and fall, eventually landing onto the ground with a crash.

Mona reverted out of his bus form during the fall, and the thieves pick them up from the ground, groaning with pain. The scenery around them is familiar, it’s--

“Wait, is this… Shibuya? We didn’t just get kicked out of the Palace, did we?” Panther looks around, before looking down at herself. “Hey, we’re still in our Phantom Thieves outfits, so…”

“It stands to reason that we’re still in Akira’s Palace.” Queen looks around. It’s completely empty, but it’s not lifeless. It’s like a moment frozen in time, only everyone around had been plucked away. “It’s so empty… It’s weird to see Shibuya without a huge crowd.”

“I agree… Hm,” Noir rests her chin in her hand, deep in thought. “If I remember correctly, the Third Circle is--”

A voice rings out, like it’s coming from one of the giant screens on the buildings. It’s one they recognize. It’s one they know.

“Gluttony.” Akira’s voice says, and one of the giant screens in front of them flicker to life. It’s one of the ones furthest to the left. He’s standing right there. In front of them, on the screen. He’s so close, but so far. The Phantom Thieves look up at him, gaping.

His words come out almost static-y, like it’s a low quality, pre-recorded broadcast. “Always wanting more… It’s funny, really. After Kaneshiro, the embodiment of greed, had been defeated, in a way, we lost ourselves to greed, too. We wanted more, more and more. Only taking down big names, because… because…” He shakes his head like he’s disappointed, curling in on himself.

The recording shuts off, and a headline appears in big, bold letters--MEDJED CHALLENGES AND THREATENS THE PHANTOM THIEVES OF HEART!--the words flash, so extravagant that they’re embarrassing and cheesy, complete with loud fanfare and fireworks that pop across the screen.

With a flash, the words, fanfare, and fireworks disappear. A different screen flickers, and with a sigh, Akira reappears. He’s on the screen furthest to the right now. It’s like he’s dancing around between screens; elusive, out of their reach, impossible to predict.

Akira fiddles with a stray curl. “We wanted more. As Phantom Thieves, stealing is second nature. It’s as easy and as necessary as breathing. Even Arsène said it himself: ‘Not one profession could equal that of a burglar, the splendid unexpected, full of variety, so terrible, so fascinating… and such fun.’ --and that’s the way of the Phantom Thief, right? They steal for pleasure, fortune, treasure… Everything they want, they take.

“But… we, the Phantom Thieves of Heart, were created to give voices to the weak. To help them stand up to the rotten hearts who kept them in shackles, in chains… A Phantom Thief is driven by their greed, their gluttony, their instability…” He pauses, frowning. “We, the Phantom Thieves, fight for justice. We do what’s right for the sake of doing what’s right. That’s true justice, isn’t it? Doing things because they’re the right thing to do, not because we stand to gain something from it.

“If your justice has ulterior motives, or a fine print, it really can’t be called ‘justice,’ can it? True justice is standing up for what’s right, no matter what. True justice is not giving in even if the whole world is against you. All that matters is doing what’s right… right?” Akira’s frown deepens, and he looks off into the distance, past the Phantom Thieves, past Shibuya, past Japan… his eyes seem to be scanning the entire world, taking it all in like it’s a three course meal. “But, even when I felt like we were going too far… even when I wondered if we’d lost sight of our justice, I didn’t say anything. I’m the leader, aren’t I? But, when we had gotten blinded by our gluttony, I noticed it. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything.”

Skull clenches his jaw, looking ashamed.

The screen flickers. He disappears.

No one says a single word. The Phantom Thieves wait and wait and wait. Eventually, the screen in the middle, the largest one, flickers to life. They wait with baited breath, clenched jaws and white knuckles.

“We were enacting justice, yeah. We were.” Akira says, speaking softly. “But we weren’t doing it because it was right. We were enacting justice for our own gain. And that… that isn’t justice, is it? And even though I was uneasy, even though I was hesitating, even though I felt it was wrong… I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything. I could have stopped it before it escalated. But… I didn’t. I didn’t.” His expression betrays no emotion, but the look in his eyes is one of disappointment and disgust. But in what? In who?

And just like that, he turns away, his back to the Phantom Thieves. He shakes his head, a small sigh audible. His shoulders are shaking as he walks away into the distance, moving until he’s out of sight.

They try and reach out their hands, to run closer to the screen, but it’s too far away. He’s too far gone, now.

Skull’s panting, leaning over with his hands on his knees. He shakes his head furiously, obviously frustrated. “Shit. It was a while ago, but it’s still fuckin’ shitty to think about. How we let ourselves get blinded by fame… and how the rug was pulled right out from under us because of it.”

“I… had no idea he felt this way.” Panther admits, fiddling with her whip. She wraps it around her fingers, staring at it as it stretches and twists with her every movement. “I didn’t know he felt uneasy… he didn’t tell us, but… honestly, I couldn’t even tell anything was wrong. He’s hard to read, sure, but… that’s not much of an excuse.”

Fox clicks his tongue. “I should think not. We were fools, blinded by our own successes. But our leader is taking far too much blame. We, too, had a responsibility to step back, to stop one another before we crossed a line… We fell prey to gluttony, as well…”

Silence settles in between the Phantom Thieves. The guilt comes radiating off them in waves, coming from even the ones who weren’t yet, at that time, part of the group. Their hearts are heavy.

“He kept quiet about how he was feeling… about how he was worried about our--the Phantom Thieves’ justice…” Mona trails off. “All while struggling to fight off his own gluttony… Joker…”

“That’s right. I wanted more, too.” Akira says. He clears his throat, speaking in a loud and direct voice, one that boasts confidence and an ego the size of a solar system. “‘Yes, before that happens, we will take this world!’ ” 

He quotes himself, pride and arrogance evident in every syllable. He laughs. “I thought things like that, too. That we, the Phantom Thieves, could hold the world in our hands; that we could claim ownership of it. Their hearts could belong to all of us--this world could belong to us. I could make a deal, but not with the devil, no--a deal with a God, a false prophet, crafted from the desires of man, who wished for the end of a free world…”

It sounds like he’s smiling, his voice trailing off.

But something’s strange, something’s wrong. Something’s just to the left of correct. All of them seem to realize at the same time. The air stills. 

Akira was speaking to them, and his voice sounded close. Close enough to touch. Close enough to reach out for. Mere moments ago, Akira had walked away, and the TV screen had flickered off. None of the screens had flickered back to life. They’re black, empty, with no image displayed.

If that’s the case, then...

...If there was no broadcast, and if Akira wasn’t on the screen...

Fox’s eyes narrow, his emotion emphasized by the bright red markings of his mask. “...Forgive me, for speaking my thoughts aloud, in such a candid matter. However, I cannot help but wonder…” His eyes dart around Shibuya’s familiar scenery, erratic and anxious. “How can it be possible that we cannot see Akira, and yet, we can hear his voice?”

A split second passes, and as if on queue, an eerie chuckle comes from behind the Phantom Thieves. 

There's an oppressive atmosphere creeping up from behind them, growing and growing, threatening to devour them whole. As the group whirls around in the direction of the sudden voice, they see none other than their leader’s mirror image, with those unnerving gold eyes and condescending, almost feral grin.

Joker gives them a small wave, smile on his face. “Hello, my beloved Thieves!” He twirls around his dagger in his hands, flawlessly and carelessly. “Did you miss me? After all, it’s been quite some time since we’ve seen each other…”

“Heh. Didn’t miss you as much as you’d like, dude.” Skull says, and his teeth are gritted. He’s holding his weapon so tight his knuckles turn white, and the tense air doesn’t go unnoticed by Joker. He laughs, waving a red gloved hand in the air like he’s batting away a fly.

“My dear Thieves, I believe it’s time we had a little chat. Sit down, why don’t you?” He watches them as they don’t sit down, they just adjust into a battle ready position. He rolls his eyes, but his grin doesn’t fade. “Okay, okay, fair enough. Stand if you will.”

“We’re not quite in the mood for talking.” Queen glares at him, but he remains unfazed.

“Oh, you’re still upset about the recent broadcast? I can’t say I blame you. Those old wounds are still sore, hm?” He chuckles, low and breathy. He eyes them, grin widening. “Well, that aside… I must say, I’ve been listening in on your conversations, and I find it surprising that not a single one of you has mentioned a... certain something… Although, you had quite the time in the Second Circle, no? But there’s something else… Something you haven’t taken the time to think about?”

“Don’t give us a bunch of riddles.” Oracle frowns. Beneath her mask, her expression wavers, her heart just the same. Seeing Joker standing there made her heart lurch in her chest, although she knew just as well as everyone else that the one standing before them wasn’t their Joker. Technically. That was his Shadow… so it still was him, but...

“Fine, fine.” He sighs, and waves his hand, and from the concrete ground rises a square pillar of stone, growing and growing. The loud sound echoing through Shibuya is like nails on a chalkboard and a bulldozer at the exact same time. It’s remarkably unpleasant.

Joker sits down upon the pillar like a throne, staring down at the Thieves as it rises further. He’s far up above them now. “That’s better. You know, just in case. I can see how all of you are white-knuckling your weapons or your masks. I’m sure a little distance between all of you and myself isn’t unwelcome, no?”

They don’t seem amused, and Joker sighs again, but continues.

“Not a single one of you has asked yourself why. Why has the Metaverse returned? After all, we destroyed it when we defeated Yaldabaoth, and entrusted this world to the, what was it, capable adults? Hah! And here I thought I was the Joker.” He crosses his legs, resting his elbow on his knee and leaning his chin in his hand. “Now, doesn’t that beg the question…” Joker’s lips turn up further.

It’s Oracle that speaks, her voice carefully measured. “Does Yaldabaoth have anything to do with this?”

“Yup, that’s the question you should have been asking! That’s, honestly, the first thing you should have asked. Your very first step in this Palace should have been punciated with the question, ‘gosh, did that pesky Yaldabaoth have anything to do with the Metaverse returning?’ But you didn’t stop to ask yourselves that, now did you? You never asked yourself why.”

“Did he have anything to do with it? It seems like you know, so why don’t you tell us, considering you’re so eager to gloat.” Queen says, spitting her words out like they’re poison, and Joker laughs, throwing his head back like she’s told the world’s funniest joke.

“Oh, Queen. Really, really, you’re so endearing. Never a dull moment with you. Hah, never a dull moment with any of you. What do you think, my beloved Thieves? Place your bets like this is a million dollar question!--Do you believe, in full sincerity, that Yaldabaoth played a part in the Metaverse’s return?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re so frustrating. Ughh, I dunno! Sure, whatever!” Skull practically shouts, glaring upwards at Joker who laughs again. 

“And that’s my favorite part about you, Skull.” Joker swings his legs, looking cheery. “But you’re wrong! It has nothing to do with Yaldabaoth. Nothing at all. We shot him right in the head, y’know. Killed him dead. He’s not coming back. No way, no how.”

“Then…” Mona stares up at Joker, looking lost. “How? How did the Metaverse return?!”

“It’s simple,” Joker says, and leaps off the pillar, flipping once in the air before landing perfectly on his feet. He grins at the Thieves. “It’s all the power of the Wild Card. Of the Trickster. Of your leader, Joker.” He rests his hand on his chest, red glove right over his heart.

Queen blinks, looking completely and utterly off kilter. “Are you… saying that the Metaverse’s return is because of--”

“Yup. He’s amazing, isn’t he? To be able to bring a whole other world back… All by himself, no help from any gods or demons…” Joker grins at them, hand tucked into his pocket. “Akira’s 'Shadow'… The part of himself he hides from his world--from all of you... The force of his desire… His corrupted heart has the ability to recreate worlds from nothing but ash! His desire has more power than even Yaldabaoth, that false God, that false prophet!…”

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but his eyes sparkle like he’s staring at his betrothed on their wedding day, a look of absolute joy, of pure happiness, the very pinnacle of serenity. “Tell me, my beloved Thieves…”

The air around them is tense, still and cold like ice. Joker examines them up and down, takes every member of the Phantom Thieves in with his eyes like he’s judging them, analyzing them, like he knows every single thing about them, and the truth is that he does. 

He knows everything. Every last thing, down to each and every minute detail. He knows their strengths, he knows their weaknesses. Their hopes, their dreams, their fears and their nightmares. Their leader’s mirror image knew it all. And that was the worst part.

They were going up against an enemy that knew them better than they knew themselves. 

With teeth like knives, Joker smiles at them still.

“What good would it do, trying to stand up to such power?”

Chapter Text

It feels like the walls are closing in. There’s a heavy, heavy aura hanging in the air, like the entire world is being held down with chains. It’s a horrible, horrible feeling.

Makoto’s consciousness returns and she opens her eyes, brain slowly processing the situation. After a few, long moments, she stands, looking around. There’s practically no light where she is… wherever she is. She looks around, trying to find anything. But there’s nothing.

“Where am I… what happened?” She cups her chin in her hand, trying to recall how she’d gotten here, in this strange place that felt almost like a cell. She snaps her fingers with a gasp. “That’s right… We ran into Akira-kun’s Shadow, and then… he disappeared, and we found the stairs… but… what happened after that…?”

Makoto blinks, slowly, a few times. Her eyes have finally adjusted to the light, and she looks around at her surroundings. She’s in some sort of… room. But there’s no entrance and no exit. Just where was she? 

“We took the stairs down to the Fourth Circle… Did we all get separated somehow? And where is this place…?” As her concerns leave her lips, she’s suddenly aware of a presence from behind her. A familiar one, but one that… shouldn’t be here. “Professor…?”

This was Akira’s Palace, so why on Earth was her college professor of all people here? It didn’t make any sense. Makoto’s brain speeds through explanations and she raises her guard, shifting her feet to take a defensive stance, and she realizes something else.

She looks down at her hands. No gloves. No weapon. She looks down at herself. She’s in her normal clothes, not in her Phantom Thief attire… They were still in Akira’s Palace. They had to be…

“Nijima-san,” Her Professor starts, her voice sounding the exact same as it did in real life. It has the same effect, too: grating on Makoto’s nerves. She’s complained about her to the Phantom Thieves group chat before, is that why she was here? “I must say, your high school performance at Shujin Academy was outstanding… it’s of such confusion to me why you tend to act out in my classes, speaking when you shouldn’t.”

Makoto shakes her head. “My apologies, but I have no intention of staying silent when something’s wrong.” 

Her professor gives a long, drawn out sigh--it doesn’t sound like hers. It sounds like Sae’s. Which is… strange. Her professor continues, in a voice that seems to have melded with Sae’s and her own.

“It’s really so disappointing, Nijima-san. Just because you think something’s wrong doesn’t mean you need to speak up about it. Don’t you have any consideration for others? Don’t you know that they’d prefer to look away?”

“I do know that. And that’s why I’m speaking up.” Makoto feels her teeth grit, feels anger rushing through her veins. In the back of her mind, she feels Anat call for her. She feels her Persona inhabit her body, taking the wheel, reeling her in. “Your treatment of your students is utterly repulsive.”

“Is it me that’s repulsive, or is it you? Really, you’re such a nuisance.” Her voice shifts. It changes, and her professor’s form changes to something else. Someone else. 

Sae looks Makoto dead in the eyes. 

“Makoto… isn’t it time for you to grow up already? You need to stop acting out. You need to stop acting like such a child.” There’s a look of disappointment, of disgust on Sae’s face. “You’re useless like this.”

Makoto feels her heart twist around in her chest, pounding away violently. She can hear her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. 

Anat’s voice joins the chorus of her heart, the song of her soul. 

My other self, I know you can hear me. Do not be fooled. This is an imitation. This is not the truth. This is not the Nijima Sae you know.

Makoto knows. She knows, and wills her heart not to waver. She clenches her fists, walks forward, strides up to the being wearing her beloved older sister’s face and looks deep into her eyes, glaring. “You’re not my sister. This isn’t real. I found my sense of justice on the day I woke up to my Persona, and I swore to never lose sight of it again… and my sister rediscovered her justice, too. This isn’t real. You’ll have to try much, much harder to even get close to fooling me.”

“You’ll regret it.”

Makoto turns her head, feeling a strange glow to the left of her. A series of shapes--triangles, circles, rectangles, squares--all dance in front of her vision, and a gentle golden glow appears in front of her eyes. She turns back to the imitation of her sister, and shakes her head.

“I’ll never regret it.” 

Just like that, she finds herself being pulled into the light… and then, a sensation of falling. She passes through the light and exits the space she was trapped in, landing gracefully on the floor, one fist to the ground. Makoto stands, and turns, looking behind her.

“A TV…?” She reaches her hand out, fingertips a hair’s breadth from touching the LCD screen--

A loud, familiar yell comes from closeby. Makoto whips her head around in the direction of the sound, gives a half-glance to the TV she’d apparently fallen out of, and figures she can return to it later if she really needs to. She begins to run down the hall, taking a sharp left, following the source of the voice.

“Absolutely fuckin’ not!” Ryuji’s voice screams, and Makoto stops in front of a familiar looking TV… It seemed like the exact same model she had fallen out of. Displayed on the screen is Ryuji and… A man she didn’t recognize, but his face looked oddly familiar.

From this angle, she can’t see Ryuji’s face, but he continues to yell at the man. 

“I don’t need to hear any bullshit about what you--or anyone else thinks of me! Or us! I don’t give a shit. And you already fuckin’ left us, and I know better than anyone you ain’t comin’ back, and even if you did, you sure as hell wouldn’t be fuckin’ welcome, so get outta my goddamn face, old man!!”

And all of a sudden, like he’s made aware of Makoto watching, he glances at her. But--no, he’s not looking at her. He’s just looking in her direction. He walks forward, almost like he’s in a trance, and moves closer and closer--

Knowing what’s coming, Makoto takes a step back, narrowly missing Ryuji, who unceremoniously falls flat on his face onto the ground.

“Ugh, motherfucker!” He curses, lifting himself off the ground and making eye contact. “Oh, shit! Makoto!”

She gives him a small nod and extends her hand, pulling him up. Once they let go, Ryuji dusts off his pants, and pauses, struck with a sense of realization as he looks down at himself, and then back at Makoto, and then back at himself, and then her again.

“Huh? What the hell? We’re not in our Phantom Thieves shit anymore…” He pauses, runs his hands through his hair, and shakes his head. “Wait a minute. What just happened? One second it was Kamoshida, then it was my dad, and then I fuckin’ fell outta--” Ryuji turns, looking at the TV he’d fallen out of.

“I believe we’re still in Akira-kun’s Palace. After we went down the stairs to the fourth circle, I think we must have all gotten separated somehow… You’re the first person I’ve found, but it seems like we were both trapped inside of… those TVs? I think it stands to reason that the rest of us are inside similar TVs…”

“Forreal?” Ryuji gapes, scrutinizing the TV. He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m not even gonna try and understand what the fuck’s goin’ on here. Let’s just find the others, yeah? Then we can talk about all this shit.” He glances down the hall. 

Like the Second Circle, there’s a long, long hallway, but no doors. Instead, there are TVs hanging on the walls, their dim glow the only source of light. 

“You know what this kinda reminds me of?” Ryuji says, as they pass more and more TVs, turned on, but displaying nothing. “After Yaldabaoth erased us and we woke up in those damn cells.”

“Hmm,” Makoto hums. They turn a corner. “That makes sense. It does feel like that… Actually, now that I think about it, that was our lowest point, wasn’t it? We were completely plagued by doubt.”

“Yeah. But Akira came and saved us. He reminded us what we were really fightin’ for. And that we shouldn’t give up.” The blonde sighs, shaking his head. “‘S kinda weird, though. Inside the TV or whatever the fuck--Kamoshida was there, talkin’ shit, and then…” Ryuji chews on his lip, and Makoto watches him with care.

“It is weird. My college professor was there--”

“What, the one who was raggin’ on you for calling her out on being a huge dick?”

“Yeah, that one. She was there, and then she changed into my sister. They were both… criticizing me, saying things like I should just give up. It’s just… strange to me, that they would appear here, in Akira’s Palace… Most importantly, in the Fourth Circle.”

“What’s the Fourth Circle again?"

They turn another corner. “Greed. It’s just not adding up why something like that would happen. To both of us, no less.”

“So it’s not weird to think that everyone else is goin’ through the same thing?” Ryuji peers down the hallway they’re heading down. “Shit. You think they’re gettin’ ragged on like we were?”

Makoto pauses, straining her ears. She stops, stretching her hand out to signal Ryuji to stop. He does, and they stand in silence, completely still. There’s a familiar voice coming from down the hall… “I think we’re about to find out. C’mon, let’s go.”

“No! You’re--you’re not Shiho! She would never say something like that. Don’t think you can fool me!”

“Found Ann.” Ryuji says, as they run down the hall, finding the source of the noise. 

Ann has her back to the camera. Her fists are tightly clenched and she’s shaking her head. With a huff, she turns around, and begins walking towards Makoto and Ryuji…

She glares back at not-Shiho. “If you try to fool me like that again, I’ll make you regret it. I’m never giving up. Nothing in the world can ever stop me!”

And just like before, she falls out of the TV. Makoto has the foresight to take a step back, but Ryuji doesn’t. 

Ann promptly falls on top of him, the pair of them crashing to the ground. Ryuji landed flat on his stomach, with Ann landing on his back.

“Holy shit!” She swears, surprised. Ann turns her head, looking at the TV. “Did I just fall out of a TV?--Oh! Makoto! Wait--”

Makoto has an amused grin on her face. “Nice save, Ryuji.”

“Can… you… get offa me?” Ryuji chokes out, slapping the ground with his hand. Ann complies, and reaches her hand out to help him up. He scratches the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “You’re welcome. Jeez, you nearly broke my ‘effin back…”

Ann ignores him. “What just happened? And… you guys aren’t in your Phantom Thief outfits anymore and--” She looks down at herself. “Neither am I. What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Makoto explains, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “We were all trapped inside of those TVs, and after a sort of… confrontation, we just… tumbled out. We’re trying to find everyone else right now. It seems like they’re all trapped, too.”

She blinks at Makoto, before grinning and shrugging her shoulders. “Huh, okay! Well, I’m sure it’ll make more sense once we have everyone else, so let’s get to finding them, yeah?”

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take them that long to find everyone else. A loud yell usually identifies who, and following the sound of their voice is incredibly easy. After that, they help whoever was out of the TV up, and then briefly explain the situation. It’s not long before the whole team is gathered again, leaning up against the walls and trying to assess the situation.

“So, basically, to summarize…” Makoto crosses her arms. “After our conversation with Akira-kun’s Shadow, he opened the pathway to the Fourth Circle for us. We went down the steps, but all woke up seperated, and trapped inside of TVs. Inside of the TVs, we saw someone, who then transformed into another person, both of whom spent their time criticizing our actions, and telling us to stop.

“While inside the TV, we didn’t notice any exits or entrances. We weren’t fully conscious of our actions as we went through the entrance-slash-exit of the TV, and fell out. Does that sound about right to everyone?” 

They nod their heads, a chorus of “yes”. Haru fiddles with a stray curl, examining their surroundings.

“I wonder… Why exactly were we all separated? And why were we trapped in the TVs…? I’m having trouble understanding.”

“Hrrmm,” Mona grumbles, chin in his paw. “It was almost like the cognitions inside of the TVs were trying to discourage us. But they underestimated us. No way the Phantom Thieves would give up just because someone told us to.”

Yusuke nods his head, looking slightly proud. “Indeed. I must say, though. I do wonder why Akira’s greed would manifest as such… It does not seem to be related.”

“I agree with you there.” Ann replies, looking around, shoulders slumped. “The atmosphere of this Circle sucks. It’s so dark and dreary… it makes me feel like I just made a regrettable impulse purchase.”

“Oh, I feel ya.” Ryuji leans back against the wall. “Like when you look in your wallet and are all like, ‘ugh, shit, totally shouldn’t’ve done that’.”

“Yeah! It makes me feel like crud.”

Makoto gasps. “That’s it!”

Ryuji and Ann look at Makoto, and then back at each other. “What?” They ask, in sync, and Futaba snorts.

“This Circle… It’s, like you said, dreary… the whole atmosphere is really gloomy and overall unpleasant. Doesn’t that seem out of place for Greed?” Makoto explains, gesturing down the hallway. “If a Palace is how that person sees the world, then for something like Lust, Gluttony, or Greed… how they appear must correlate to how Akira-kun imagines them, or how it makes him feel.”

“Wait, so, then… The Fourth Circle makes us feel like shit because…?” Ryuji trails off, looking at Makoto.

Morgana pipes up. “Greed… If what Makoto’s saying is right, then it might be that feeling greedy makes Akira feel guilty? I guess it makes sense, if you consider what he said in the Third Circle…”

A brief stretch of silence envelops the team, and Haru has her chin in her hand.

“If that’s the case, then why were we all trapped in those TVs? And if this is how Akira-kun’s greed makes him feel, what exactly is it that he feels so guilty over?”

As if in response to Haru’s words, the TV that Ryuji was leaning up against flickers to life. He jumps away, startled, and the whole team stands at the ready, taken off guard by the sudden noise. 

“They’re mine.”

“That voice…” Haru says, quietly. The screen has no image displayed on it. No dim, golden light, like the rest of them had. Only pure white. So bright and blinding that it burned. The voice continues to flow out of the TVs high definition speakers. Akira’s voice comes out and plays like a melody to their ears.

“I don’t want anyone else to get near them. To talk to them. To ever say things that could hurt them. They’re my Phantom Thieves. Mine. No one else’s.”

The Phantom Thieves say nothing, looking at each other with shock, waiting for Akira to continue. They’re always waiting.

“I don’t want them to ever leave. I want them to stay with me, forever…”

“Akira,” Ryuji starts, reaching out to touch the TV with his hand. “We will, man. You don’t know that? You don’t know that we plan on stayin’...?”

“No one else…” Akira’s voice says, his voice teetering between angry and desperate, pleading and tearful. “No one else can have them. They’re mine. But, this feeling… I hate it. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!” 

His voice continues on a loop. Just those three words, like a stuck record player. Over and over and over and over and over. Like he doesn’t know any other words. Just those three.

“I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it!”

Futaba covers her ears. “Akira…” 

Akira laughs, self-deprecating and disgusted in himself. “I’m a Phantom Thief, though, aren’t I? So I’m supposed to be greedy. Is this a feeling I’m supposed to have? Am I supposed to feel like this? I… I don’t know. I just…

“I don’t want anyone else to have them. I… don’t want them to leave me. I want to keep them with me, forever…”

His voice trails off, and the TV flickers once. Twice. The screen turns black. 

And then, a flash. All of the TVs shut off, leaving the Phantom Thieves in complete darkness. Makoto holds back a scream, reaching out to grab whoever’s closest. 

In front of them, the TV that Akira’s voice came out of lights up, straining the group’s eyes. Displayed on the screen is a set of stairs, going down. 

“Those are…” Futaba says, stepping closer. She pauses, pulling out neon green screens that light up the hallway, bathing it in a green light. “Those are the stairs going down, but… they’re inside of the TV? How the heck are we supposed to go in?”

“I mean, we did fall out of the TVs earlier…” Makoto replies, letting go of her grip on Haru’s arm. She apologizes with a light blush, turning to face the TV. “It wouldn’t be all that strange if we could enter them too…”

Ryuji shakes his head. “Nah, man. There’s no ‘effin way we can go into a TV… Right?” He looks over at his baffled team, sighs, and walks up to the TV. The blonde spares a look back at his team, all who seem to be eagerly waiting. He sighs. “Okay, here goes nothin’...”

He touches the screen with a fingertip at first. A flicker of shock crosses his face as his finger dips in. Ryuji pulls his hand away like he’s been electrified. He takes a second, and then presses his whole palm against it, pushing his arm further and further into the TV.

“This feels really fuckin’ weird…” He’s in up to his shoulders now, and he gestures behind himself. “Hey, can one of you like… push me in further? It’s kinda hard to get a grip here.”

“Leave it to me.” Yusuke replies, and takes the task of helping Ryuji in. The blonde’s grumble is audible even as he falls into the TV. He has his back facing the thieves, staring at the staircase, before turning around again, like he’d momentarily forgotten.

“Uh, sorry. Wait, can you guys see me? Ah, shit, we didn’t fuck up, did we? Wait, hold on, I’m gonna stick my hand out. Try and grab on, and I’ll pull you in, yeah? The stairs are here.” He walks up to the screen and stretches his hand out.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the entire team’s inside of the TV. 

“Entering a TV, hm,” Yusuke hums, looking around inside. There’s nothing save for the stairs, but he frames the area with his hands regardless, nodding appreciatively. “I suppose this is yet another experience only available due to our profession as Phantom Thieves, no?”

Ryuji stretches, cracking his neck. “I mean, that’s one way of lookin’ at it. I guess hoppin’ into TVs isn’t the weirdest thing we’ve done, but man, it’s still pretty crazy.” 

“Yes, I never expected to jump into a TV, myself…” Haru giggles behind her hand. “We’ve done much stranger things, but I agree with you. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting this feeling anytime soon.” 

“All of that aside,” Morgana says, licking his paw and rubbing it against his face. “We found stairs, but I think we should discuss what we’ve seen so far before we go down.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Makoto agrees, nodding her head. “There are a few matters I wanted to discuss with you all…”

“Yeah, there’s some stuff I’ve been wonderin’ too.” Ryuji gestures to the entrance of the TV. “So, like, if Akira was wantin’ to keep us, why do you think we were in TVs, and not jails? Y’know what I mean? Especially considerin’ he sees himself as a prisoner and all…”

Morgana’s tail flicks in the air. “It’s hard to say. There could be multiple reasons for something like that. We’d already escaped from a jail before, right? Back after the Phantom Thieves’ existence had been erased, so maybe he thought we’d be able to do it again, and had to resort to something else?”

“Why TVs, though?” Ryuji mutters, scratching his head.

“Mmm,” Ann hums, twirling her hair with her pointer finger. “Hey, remember in the First Circle, how all those people in Akira’s cognition were just looking, but not doing anything about it? Maybe it’s because you can only watch TVs… And normal people can’t go inside them.”

“That’s a good point.” Makoto says, nodding her head, chin in her hand. “We’ve also struggled with the general public seeing us as nothing more than entertainment, so I suppose that TVs would make sense…” 

“There were also people talkin’ shit on us in the TVs, though. And I dunno about you guys, but mine was all personal. It doesn’t make sense that Akira would trap us with people who fuckin’ hated us, right?”

A strange silence fills the air. Ryuji frowns.

“...Why aren’t any of you sayin’ anything?” 

“It’s just…” Haru starts, but stops, shaking her head.

“What is it, Haru?” Morgana asks, looking up at her. Her frown only deepens, but she continues, looking reluctant and uncomfortable.

“Akira-kun said he wanted us to stay with him, correct? Do you think… him getting our spirits down would be the way to do that?”

“Huh?” Ryuji stares at her. “How would that even work?”

Makoto’s lips are flattened out into a fine line, and her gaze is set firmly on the ground. “No, I think I might understand what Haru’s trying to explain here. Akira-kun’s always there for us when we need him, right? Maybe this is his heart’s way of keeping us here with him. Or… maybe he wants us to lose heart…?” Her last sentence comes out quiet, voice shaky.

“Do… do you really think he’d do somethin’ like that?” Ryuji asks, trying to meet the eyes of any of his teammates. But none of them can look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know…” Morgana trails off, shaking his head. “It’s hard to say. A Palace is created by distorted desires… desires that some keep hidden under wraps. So… I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

“There is another thing I have been wondering.” Yusuke starts, his arms crossed over his chest. He gestures at his clothing. “It appears that we are no longer dressed in our Phantom Thief attire. Why do you think that is?”

“Well, normally it’s because we’re not seen as a threat, right?” Ann looks down at her clothes, frowning. “But… basically this whole time we’ve been in our Phantom Thief outfits, so why now are we not wearing them? Oh, now that I think about it… there aren’t any shadows in this Circle either, are there? Do you think that’s related, maybe?”

Morgana nods. “What Lady Ann’s saying is right. You guys’ outfits and my form materialize when the Palace Ruler sees us as a threat. But right now, he doesn’t see us as a threat… and there aren’t any shadows around, so I guess that means…”

“...If he doesn’t see us as a threat, then maybe…” Makoto chews on her lip, lost in thought. “Maybe he sees us as something to be protected, instead?”

“That seems right.” Morgana agrees. His gaze flitters towards the stairs. “I think we’ll eventually be able to confirm our theory as we go down further. I think we’ve covered just about everything we can for now, so should we get going?”

They all nod at each other, and make their way down the stairs, leaving the entrance into the hallway they had been trapped in behind.

Unbeknownst to the Phantom Thieves of Heart, the TV across from the one they’d entered flickers and flashes. An image appears, one that would surely rattle the group’s hearts, and answer a few questions they’d dare not ask.

Akira appears on the TV, trapped in the ice. His hands are crossed over his chest, eyes shut like he’s sleeping. The color fading from his face is evident even through the thick ice. The gentle golden of his skin has been swallowed up by a striking shade of purple.

He doesn’t have much time left.

Chapter Text

In comparison to the wide hallways of the Fourth Circle, the Fifth Circle is narrow. There’s no possible way you could walk side by side with someone. It’s claustrophobic and stifling. 

Queen’s heels click against the floor as she takes the final step down, into the Fifth Circle. 

“Oh!” Panther shouts, pointing. And then she looks down at herself. “We’re back in our outfits? Um… so he doesn’t see us as a threat anymore? Is that it?”

Skull rolls his shoulders, stretching. He adjusts his grip on his weapon and looks around. “That aside, what’s with this place? It’s so friggin’ tight. Are we really gonna be able to go through?”

“If we walk in single file, it should be alright. Hopefully, as we traverse further, there will be more space…” Fox runs his hand against the bright red walls. “Strange.”

“What is, Inari?”

“It is almost as if the walls are alive… Feel them. It’s like they’re pulsing underneath my fingertips. An intriguing feeling…”

Skull shakes his head. “The way you’re describing ‘em, I don’t wanna. But, hey, doesn’t that kinda make you think of Mementos? Wait, what Circle is this again? I don’t remember.”

“The Fifth Circle: Anger.” Noir says, peering down the hall. “Shall we go?”

“Yes,” Queen agrees, walking forward. “Let’s.”

As they walk, the walls feel like they’re closing in, the bright red narrowing the Thieves’ vision, and the faint sound of a heartbeat coming from the walls fills the air. It’s an atmosphere that would set anyone on edge.

“Shit.” Skull curses, his shoulder bumping into the wall. He stops, readjusting, and Fox, Noir, and Oracle crash into him. 

“Hey!” Oracle says. “Don’t just stop like that, Skull!”

“Sorry! Geez, you don’t gotta yell. It’s just--the walls feel like they’re closin’ in, y’know? I think I might need to start walkin’ sideways at this point…”

From the front, Queen sighs. “I think I know how you feel.”

“Oh, yeah, you got all those spikes on you, huh…” Skull muses, and they resume walking. “Does it look a little bit less… small up there? Like the walls?”

“Mmm,” Queen mumbles, peering off into the distance. “Actually, yes. Let’s keep going, shall we?”

The width of the hallways seem to change as they go, along with the speed of the eerie heartbeats that echoed out of the walls. Finally, the thieves have some breathing room, and could stand side-by-side if they wanted. 

“Wait.” Queen says, stopping, extending her hand. “Do you guys hear that? It sounds like--”

Footsteps.

From the back of the line, Oracle taps away at her screens, eventually nodding her head. “Footsteps, right? It seems like we’re not alone this time. Shadows. Get ready.”

“How’re we gonna fight in such a narrow space, though?” Skull asks, looking around, trying to gauge the area. 

“You’ll need to be careful using your weapons. Stick to using Persona attacks and your guns. Make sure you don’t hit each other.” Oracle takes a step back, eyebrows furrowing. “Get on your guard, guys! They’re coming!”

A familiar Shadow comes into view--Scathach, with her red attire and black hat. Her eyes shine golden, but her expression remains serene, and flat… Until she sees the Thieves.

Her face changes into a vicious, angry snarl. Immediately, she flies towards them, a burst of green wind emitting from her fingertips like an ignited flame--but as she raises her hand to cast in their direction, her wrist smacks into the narrow corridor. Her magic disappears.

Oracle sees this, narrows her eyes, and waits for it to happen again.

Noir aims, and fires, directly into Scathach’s temple. The Shadow screeches, her echoing cry filling the hallway. Her voice is inhuman and overpowering, screaming, even when Noir stops shooting.

“You…” The Shadow starts, the gold of her eyes shining with feral rage. “This world… This world… I hate it. All of it! Such disgusting, putrid filth…” She claws her hands into her thighs, digging so hard and rough that she draws blood. Scathach scratches her fingers against the walls, ripping into them.

The walls start to bleed, too. Again, she begins to cast a Magarula, aiming it in the direction of the thieves--but she seemingly misses, instead firing into the walls, breaking them down. With another ear piercing scream, she slams her fist into the wall. As it shatters, so do the bones within her body, but she continues, still screaming all the while.

It is nothing short of horrifying. 

She stares up into the Thieves, into their eyes, staring deeply like she’s examining them, and something unidentifiable lurking within her golden eyes. The corners of her lips turn up, and she reaches her hand out--

With a flash of black and red, she disappears.

“What… just happened?” Skull asks, looking at his fellow thieves. “Aside from a couple shots from Noir, we didn’t attack her at all. Hell, the shadow did the most damage to itself!”

Queen shakes her head. “I don’t know. But… for some reason, it didn’t seem like she was attacking us.” She walks forward, examining the damage done to the walls. “It was like the shadow was… attacking the walls, more than anything else. Do you guys feel that way too?”

There’s a murmur of agreements, and Queen runs her fingers down the destroyed walls. She peers her head through the new hole in the wall, but there’s nothing. Just a pitch black emptiness.

“Um. Okay.” She mumbles, pulling her head out. “I suppose we should keep going… we’ll learn nothing just standing here.” 

As they walk, more and more of the shadows react in the exact same way. They don’t try to attack the thieves at all--their attacks are solely directed towards the walls, breaking and shattering them. And they scream the entire time, seething, hateful words falling from their lips. Cursing the world.

Eventually, Oracle nods to herself and gathers the other Phantom Thieves’ attention.

“I think I figured something out. None of these shadows are attacking you guys. They’re just attacking the walls and… well, themselves.” She trails off, looking back at the part of the hallway they’d already passed through. The walls are destroyed. “I think we don’t even need to attack them. If we just wait it out, they eventually just… destroy themselves.”

“I wonder why that is?” Fox murmurs, following Oracle’s gaze.

Queen has her chin in her hand, lost in thought, eyes narrowed. “I wonder… the interior of the Fourth Circle, Greed, felt dreary and dark, because Akira’s greed made him feel guilty. So, I wonder if…” She looks around, glancing at the narrow corridors. Her eyes soften, a certain kind of sadness dancing around in them.

“If these narrow hallways are representative of our Leader’s anger, then,” Fox nods to himself. “I understand. Perhaps, anger makes him feel trapped. That can be represented by the claustrophobic feeling that swells as we traverse through.”

“Yeah, what Fox is saying seems right.” Panther replies, habitually straightening out her whip as she speaks. “I guess it makes sense… Do you think Akira feels like he can’t get angry?”

Skull leans against the wall. “Prolly. It’s not easy gettin’ angry when it’s gonna get you in trouble. ‘Specially if it’s gotten you into shit before, yeah? But, man… Now that I think about it, it’s really hard to remember a time that guy’s gotten angry. Like, really angry.”

“I know what you mean.” Panther agrees. 

Queen cuts in. “Now that I think about it, have any of us seen him angry?” 

A silence follows, and Panther fiddles with her whip again, a sheepish expression.

“Um, maybe when he’d be trying to negotiate with a shadow into going into his mask and kept messing it up? There’s a couple of times I can think of where he’d done that and just kinda stared into the distance all angry after.”

“Well… I guess that’s something, but I mean actually angry.” 

Skull scratches the back of his neck with a shrug. “I don’t know if this counts, but maybe the time he awakened to his Persona? Oh, wait… None of you were there except for me, huh. But, uhhh… It’s not like he was angry. It’s more like he was doin’ a lot of screaming but when he was done he just had this… grin on his face.”

Queen shakes her head. “I don’t know if that counts either. That’s not anger, is it?”

“Yeah. Not really.” Kicking the ground, Skull frowns. “So I guess we haven’t seen him angry. He’s a pretty… level headed dude, right? It kinda seems like nothing fazes him, but… considerin’ he has a Palace and all, I guess that’s not true...” 

“It’s… sorta sad.” Panther admits, a frown on her face. “He knows, like, basically everything about us--our whole life stories, all of our thoughts and feelings but… It kinda feels like we don’t know him at all right now.” She takes a breath, sniffling. 

Skull places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Panther. Don’t cry. We’ll find him, steal his Treasure, and then… I dunno. It’ll all be okay, though.” 

She laughs, slipping her hand under her mask to wipe away her tears. “You’re really bad at comforting people, Skull. But thanks. You’re right. We can save all the crying for after we’ve rescued him.”

They all agree, and press on further. 

Oracle adjusts her goggles. “Up ahead. There’s a Shadow.”

The Thieves continue their path through the corridor, walking until the Shadow comes into view. Pure, soft white fur comes into view. Like the rest--it’s familiar, one they’ve seen before.

“Okay. Just like before, guys.” Queen reminds them. “Be on your guard, but just wait it out, and then we can keep going. Cover your ears if you need to.”

The shadow, Cerberus, thrashes the second the Phantom Thieves come into view. It lunges to attack, but like every other time, it’s violent outburst serves only as a path to the shadow’s destruction.

It’s claws catch against the bright red, narrow walls of the Fifth Circle--and with a horrifying noise, it’s nails give--they’re pulled out from the root, being yanked out from it’s fingers. It’s howl fills the narrow space, and the Phantom Thieves rush to cover their ears. 

It collapses on the ground, scratching at it’s own throat with it’s paws.

Tears pool at the corners of it’s gold eyes, slipping down it’s cheeks into the soft looking white fur, stained red with blood. It’s voice catches, and then hoarsely, it speaks. “This world… is tainted.” 

It’s voice dances in their ears like a melody, and the Phantom Thieves look at each other, sharing looks of concern. Where had they heard that voice before? It was so familiar… so, so familiar, but strange to hear coming from the lips of a Shadow.

“How much change needs to be done to set things right? What can we… what can we do, without the Metaverse?”

“...The shadow knows about the Metaverse?” Panther mumbles, eyes widening. Something’s strange. Something’s wrong.

Cerberus shakes as it sits up on it’s back paws, more like a cat than the dog it’s supposed to be. It’s obviously in pain. Despite its size, the animalistic appearance of the Shadow made it hard to watch as it quivered in pain.

It raises a paw, grazing what remains of its claws across its face. The fur gets pulled away, as does the flesh. A few of the Thieves look away, unable to watch such a gruesome, gory sight. 

“W-what’s it doing?!” Skull gasps, eyes averted. His jaw is clenched tightly. “God, this is so fucked up…”

“It’s… tearing it’s skin away…” Fox says, sounding breathless. “I… do not believe I can watch much longer…” 

As the skin, flesh and fur gets ripped away, underneath, there isn’t blood. All that’s there is a deep, deep blackness, similar to what lay underneath the torn apart walls of the Fifth Circle. 

A dark, empty void.

That empty space begins to flutter and twitch. It almost glitches, the abnormality spreading from the gape in its face to it’s whole entire body. It’s form disappears, changing from Cerberus, to something different. The figure rises to its feet, hands covering his face. 

From behind his hands, Akira breathes out a heavy sigh. “Even if we changed millions and millions of hearts, we’d still have millions upon millions of rotten people left. Maybe I… Maybe I should have taken Yaldabaoth’s offer. Because then, then… ”

“Akira…?” Skull asks, stepping forward, but Mona stops him. “What the hell, cat?! Can’t you see that it’s--”

“No, it’s not. It’s not him. Look at his eyes.”

They’re shining golden. 

Akira continues, like he can’t hear their conversation. He runs his fingers through his bangs, tugging at the curls the way he always did. His brows are furrowed and he looks stressed, unkept, unhappy. Dark circles rest under his eyes, barely concealed by his wide framed glasses.

“...Maybe the world could be right. What do I have to do? How far do I need to go… How far am I willing to go…? How much change needs to be done to set things right?” He takes a shuddering breath, covering his face with his hands. Akira digs his fingernails into his skin, cutting through. Blood drips down, mixing with the angry tears that run down his cheeks. The gold of his eyes glints in the strange, eerie light of the Fifth Circle. He grinds his teeth, the sound audible even with the distance in between him and the Phantom Thieves. “...It doesn’t matter how much blood I get on my hands… It’s for their sake, I can…”

“Akira…” Panther says, trying to walk forward, to reach out… But she can’t. Her fingers pass through, but at that second, Akira looks up, looks her right in the eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what I have to do, or how tainted I might become. You understand, don’t you? You were willing before. But you held back, because there are fates worse than death. And that’s true, it’s true, but…” He trails off. “I can’t let anyone… I can’t let anyone…” Akira glances up and down, staring at them, eyes darting to the walls and then back to them and then at the ceiling and then at the lights, and the ground… His breathing gets heavy. He tugs his hands through his hair, pulling violently at the strands. 

“Ah… I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I really, really hate it… I fucking hate it. I hate it.” He tugs harder and harder, strands being tugged out from the root, being ripped out so hard that his head begins to bleed.

In the second that they blink, with a flash, and the sound of his heels clinking against the ground, Joker appears, by Akira’s side, with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. 

He gazes at his mirror image like he’s a work of art, like there’s nothing else in the world except the two of them, and Joker silently reaches up to shut Akira’s eyes closed, soothing him like you would a crying child. In a whirlwind of red and black, Akira transforms back into Cerberus, and Joker smiles, reaching for his gun.

He presses the barrel against Cerberus’ temple, and pulls the trigger without hesitation. The shadow disappears into mist, and Joker turns to face the Thieves with a smile.

“Hello, my beloved Thieves.”

“What--what the fuck?!” Skull shouts, seeing red. He runs forward without hesitation, swinging his bat directly at Joker, aiming for the face. His target dodges easily, with a small laugh. “You just fuckin’ killed him!”

“Yup!” Joker agrees, with a laugh. He dodges another hit from Skull, sidestepping and extending his foot out so the blonde trips, falling to the ground, flat on his face. “Watch where you step, Skull.” There’s a kind smile on his face as he extends his hand out to the other male. 

Skull slaps his hand away, standing on his own. “Shut the fuck up!” He makes the move to rip off his mask, but Queen stops him. “What?! Why’re you holding me back?! Didn’t you see what he just did?!”

“I did, but calm down.” She looks past Skull, tightening her grip on his shoulder as she glares at Joker. “There’s something you’re not telling us, isn’t there?”

Joker slips his hands into his pockets with a smile and a shrug. “I’m sure there’s lots, my dearest Queen. Be a little more specific for me, won’t you?”

Queen grits her teeth. “Answer this next question truthfully. Just now, that was Akira’s shadow?”

“W-wait, what?” Skull asks, looking between them. “I thought--I thought Joker was his shadow?” 

“I am.” Joker replies, tilting his head. “And yes, that was.”

The air stills, the Phantom Thieves staring at each other, and then Joker, and then back at each other. The only thing that breaks the silence is the heartbeat lurking within the walls, sounding almost distant. 

“Can someone have more than one shadow…?” Panther asks, looking lost. 

“No, not usually.” Mona replies, staring at Joker with a conflicted look in his eyes. “But… Normally, people don’t have one more than Persona, either.”

Joker nods his head, looking proud. “You got it! I wasn’t lying when I said I was Akira’s Shadow. But it wasn’t quite the truth, either.” He gestures to the damage Cerberus had done to the walls, a smile playing on his lips. “All of the Shadows you’ve come across so far… they’re all Akira’s. Every single one of them. They’re all his Shadow. They’re all the horrible parts of him that he tries to hide… successfully so, it seems? But that aside, it’s true. Everything you’ve seen, every shadow… they’re not some powerless schmucks drawn to a Palace, no…

“Each and every one of them is just another side to your beloved Leader that you don’t know. These are the things he’s been hiding from you all this time… Beneath his cool, calm, and utterly unfazed exterior is someone--something that’s vengeful, angry… Possessive, jealous, greedy… Damaged to the point of no repair; the scars of his past like ugly blemishes on his skin…

“Your Leader is selfish, cruel, and willing to do whatever it takes to get his way. He’s exactly the type of thing you’ve been fighting against all this time.” Joker’s grin stretches across his face, spitting his words out like poison. “C’mon, you don’t really intend to save someone like that, do you? You saw what he wants to do with all of you. To lock you up forever! If you continue, you’ll be stuck here in Hell for the rest of eternity. That’s not what you really want, is it? Come now, my beloved Thieves… Face the truth. You can’t save him. Best to turn tail and leave now.”

“Wait,” Panther says, suddenly. “Hold on. There’s something strange with what you’re saying.”

Joker raises an eyebrow at her, still smiling. “What? You’re going to remain in denial about his true nature? That’s not like you, Panther--”

“Shut up!” She snaps. “That’s not what I’m talking about… What I’m talking about is how you just told us to leave, but earlier… Earlier, you said that past the entrance, there was no way out. But now you’re saying that we can leave if we wanted?”

The mirror image of their leader’s eyes widen, and he laughs lightly, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly. “Hm, did I say that?”

“Yes, you did!” Panther insists, slamming her heel against the ground. “You said our only exit would be death. But now you’re saying we can leave? So which is it? Because you keep saying one thing and then another!”

Another laugh. “Well, a Phantom Thief knows no consistency… Such trifle is the quickest way to capture. Being unpredictable with every aspect of themselves, including their words, is--”

“Aw, don’t give me that bullshit!” Skull shouts. “You say one fuckin’ thing and then another! Listen, you’re saying all this shit about how Akira really is or whatever, but you’re part of him too, ain’t ya? And listen--I spent a lot of damn time with the guy, we all have. I can tell when he’s bullshittin’--which means I can see right through you! You’re telling us to leave, over and over, but you’re not really stoppin’ us, are you? It’s almost like you want us to save Akira!”

Joker’s expression changes. This whole time, it’s been lighthearted, teasing irritation and playing at emotion. It all seemed to be a joke, or a performance of sorts to him. Like it was all some game they were playing, not something real. Displayed on his face now was something feral and furious.

He taps his heel against the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. A screen appears, and he gestures to it, frantically and angrily. 

The image displayed on it is Akira, trapped within the ice.

“Do you see this?!” He asks, slamming his hand into the image. “ This is where he’s been stuck all the while… While all of you, my beloved Thieves, were traversing his Palace, Akira has been trapped within the ice.” Joker speaks in a level tone, voice calm despite his display of rage. But underneath that chill calm was something lurking underneath, something threatening to rise to the surface and break through.

Morgana steps closer, his eyes wide, looking like he’s about to cry. “That’s where he ended up? H-he ended up trapped in his own Palace…?” 

“Yes.” Joker replies, his jaw tightly clenched. “You see it now, don’t you? There’s no saving him. He’s been in the ice far too long. He’s gone.” 

“No…” Skull starts, shaking his head and stepping forward, closer to Joker. “You’re wrong. He’s not gone. Our Leader wouldn’t die so easily!” 

“Hah, you think so?!” Joker whips his head towards Skull, anger breaking through his voice. “Do any of you seriously think yourself as qualified to say you truly know anything about him, hm?! None of you know anything! You knew nothing about his true feelings, about his anger, about his greed… All this time, you’ve known nothing!”

He waves his arm towards the image again, wide-eyed with rage. “Open your eyes, Phantom Thieves of Heart! There’s no saving him now! He’s gone! He’s gone! Are you thieves truly so dense that you can’t understand something so simple?! Give up! Leave !”

“No!” Noir says, her fists tightly clenched. “We are not leaving! We’re not going to give up until we save him!”

Joker begins to laugh, his shoulders twitching. “...Is that so…”

“Guys!” Oracle shouts, screens displaying flashing information. “Step back! Something’s happening to him--!”

The thieves jump back, staring at Joker as he continues to laugh. A grin stretches across his face as his body continues to twitch and seize. His fingers clench and unclench, tensing up as he takes a shaking inhale.

From the tips of his fingers emerge claws, breaking through his skin and his gloves like a growth. They burst through gruesomely, and Joker groans with pain, trying to control his breathing, but it comes out heavy. His golden eyes are dark, and his gaze is fixed on the ground. 

He pulls off his gloves with his teeth, discarding them on the ground. The claws aren’t growing like nails--they’re emerging from his first knuckle. The blood drips from his fingers, no longer being soaked up by his gloves. His lips part.

Joker screams.

He grips his mask tightly, his claws sinking into the material. With another blood-curdling scream, he yanks the mask off--but with it comes part of his face. But unlike the wounds on his hands, there’s no blood dripping from his face. Only a black, tar like substance.

That pitch black swallows up half of his face, covering up one eye and half of his mouth. It seems like a solid, rather than a liquid, so dark that you could see your reflection in it. A flame bursts from within, and appears on his face as the other half of his mouth and his other eye.

“That--that look familiar to any of you?” Skull asks, taking another step back, wide eyed. “Because that looks kinda like Arsène’s face to me!”

Joker’s body continues to twitch, his shoulders shaking. He leans his head back with another scream.

“This transformation--it’s just like the other Palace rulers!” Queen shouts, raising up her fists. “Get ready, everyone!” 

There’s a horrifying, disgusting sound as wings pierce through Joker’s back. His scream fills the air again, his voice hoarse and broken. The sound of tearing fabric joins the terrible chorus and with one shaking hand, Joker grips his wing in a vice grip. With the other, he reaches into his jacket for his gun, pulling it out and aiming.

Oracle screeches. “Be on your guard, guys! He brought a gun to a Persona fight!”

Joker’s eyes are unfocused and he’s swaying, but he has the gun aimed at them, but with a flourish, he whips it around, pressing the barrel to his temple. 

“N-No! Joker! ”

But it’s too late. Without a single ounce of hesitation, Joker pulls the trigger, shooting himself directly in the head.

Chapter Text

Joker’s grip on his gun doesn’t lessen, even after he’d shot himself in the head. The air stills as the Phantom Thieves gape at the sight before them. Inhumanly, impossibly, Joker was still standing. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and the bullet hole in the center of his temple started to… suck everything in, like a black hole.

His claws and wings disappear, and in a flash his face has returned. His mask rematerializes, tucked up into his fluffy black curls. The wound’s closed up now, like it’d swallowed all of the monstrous qualities that had suddenly appeared.

Blood drips down Joker’s forehead still, dripping down his face. He licks the blood that’s reached his lips away with a strained grin, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Joker’s golden eyes shine with something like hatred as he stares down the thieves. “If you keep refusing to leave… You leave me no other choice.” With a snap of his fingers, he disappears, but his voice still rings out loud and clear. “I’ll just have to make sure none of you leave the Fifth Circle alive.”

They stare at each other with matching wide eyes and shocked expressions. Oracle steps back, eyebrows raised.

“Something’s coming! Something huge! Guys, get ready! I really, really, mean it this time!!”

Black Mary-Jane shoes clink against the ground. With a curtsy, Alice grins at them. She lets the corners of her royal blue dress flutter down, and she takes a single, threatening step closer to the thieves. She tilts her head at them. “Will you play with me?”

Skull looks at her, completely taken aback. “Um, Oracle. Ain’t that just a kid?”

“Indeed.” Fox agrees, though he doesn’t leave his defensive stance. “She is naught but a child… I’m afraid we have no time to entertain a child. We need to descend further and save our Leader.”

“...You won’t play with me…?” Alice asks, looking heartbroken, tears shining in the corners of her doll-like eyes. Her gaze is at the ground. She looks up, and her grin is back, but this time it’s wide enough to swallow them whole, her intent to kill them evident within her harsh, all encompassing gaze. “If you won’t play with me, then…”

The army of stuffed, human sized teddy bears begin to close in on the Phantom Thieves. Alice grins wildly at them, the corners of her eyes scrunching up with glee. 

“Die for me!”

The teddy bears begin to charge, the fizzling of the dynamite strapped to their back filling the air. Pink curtains open, signaling the start of a difficult fight--Alice’s grin doesn’t fade all the while, even at the end, when the Phantom Thieves have their guns pressed against her forehead.

She takes her defeat with grace, her and her army of teddybears disappearing with the shame black and red flash the group has gotten used to seeing. Alice almost smiles at them, waving them a small goodbye as she vanishes.

Their destination lies at the end of the hallway. A door that Oracle confirms leads down. The Phantom Thieves give each other a nod, opening the door and beginning the descent down, into the Sixth Circle.

Another door stands in front of them, and Mona walks up to it, blinking.

“This is… the door to our house.” He hops up to the knob, turning it and all but slamming the door open.

The lights are low, and a savory smell fills the air. An old looking TV is turned on, and a young boy sits in front of it, on his knees with his fists at his chest. He doesn’t turn around even as the Phantom Thieves enter.

“Is this… Akira?” Skull asks, bending over to see the boy’s face. “As a kid?”

“Oh my god,” Panther squees, her tail flicking happily in the air. “He is so cute! I want to see baby photos. If he was this cute as a kid, I bet he was absolutely adorable as a baby.”

Fox frames the scene with his hands, examining Akira’s face. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that could only belong to a child--his black curls are as disheveled as always, but they look fluffy and frame his face, soft and round, unlike the sharp jawline of Akira currently. 

“I wonder… The Sixth Circle is Heresy. So why are we seeing Akira as a child?” Queen mumbles to herself, looking around at Akira’s living room. It didn’t look all that different from the recreation they saw in the First Circle. Perhaps the interior didn’t change much over a decade.

“What does heresy mean again?” Skull says, glancing at Queen.

“Um, usually it’s a belief that goes against the orthodox religious doctrine, but a more general definition is that you’re going against what’s most commonly accepted. It doesn’t need to just be religion, though.”

“That… kinda just sounds like us, doesn’t it?” He replies, looking over at the Phantom Thieves. “But, wonder what that means to him? Goin’ against common belief--hey, wait, what’s he watchin’?”

Akira’s bouncing where he sits, staring into the TV with bright, wide eyes. A man strides onto the TV, wearing a deerstalker cap and holding a pipe in his right hand. He nods to another man who’s holding a cane, and begins to speak.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

“Mom!” Akira says, bouncing out of his seat, peeking his head into the kitchen. “I wanna be a detective when I grow up!”

His mother laughs, nodding her head as she continues to slice up various vegetables, presumably for their next meal. “Will you tell Grandma and Grandpa that when they come over for dinner tonight? I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear.”

Grinning wildly, he nods. “Uh-huh! I will!”

The scene changes. Now they’re sitting at a dinner table, with Akira’s parents and grandparents. He’s swinging his legs as he speaks, his family looking upon him with a gentle gaze. 

“I wanna be just like the detectives one TV! They fight for truth and justice! They always help people in need, no matter what!”

His grandmother laughs. “That’s a good goal, Akira-chan.”

Akira’s beaming smile doesn’t fade until the scene does. They’re not in his house anymore. They’re in a jail cell now, with their leader looking more how they’re used to seeing him--but he’s not wearing his glasses. He’s cuffed, staring at the ground with an empty, confused gaze.

His lips don't move, but his voice fills the thieves ears.

“I did the right thing.” Akira’s voice says, sounding uncharacteristically flat and empty. “I did. That man… that man, he was forcing himself on that woman. I stopped him. I didn’t hurt him. I was… I was just doing the right thing.”

Akira looks at the handcuffs on his wrists. They’re clearly chafing, bright red marks burned into his skin. He bites down on his lip, gnawing at it. 

“This… is justice. Doing the right thing. Seeking the truth. Not for a reward. Not for fame. Only doing the right thing because it’s the right thing to do. I--I did the right thing… I did the right thing… right?”

The cell door opens and Akira jumps up. His parents are escorted in by a gruff looking police officer. His parent’s faces don’t hold the same kindness as they did before. They look upon Akira with disgust, disappointment and scorn.

“Akira,” His mother starts. With just that, Akira looks like he’s been shattered. He averts his gaze, ashamed, but his mother continues speaking. “Words can’t even begin to explain how disappointed I am in you.”

“What the fuck?!” Skull shouts, trying to grab Akira’s mother’s shoulder, but his hand passes through. He clicks his tongue. “Shit. Fuck!”

“I…” Akira says, his voice soft, threatening to crack and break like he’s about to cry. “I’m sorry.”

The scene changes. They’re in the living room now, Akira seated on the couch as his parents stare down at him. Akira’s mother has her arms crossed over her chest and his father has his hands on his hips. 

“You need to stop acting like such a child and learn to stay out of other people’s business, Akira. You should know better than this. Do you think you’re still a child and can do whatever you want? Aren’t you aware of what you’ve done by hurting that man?”

“I--I didn’t--” Akira starts, and his father cuts him off with a glare. Akira’s gaze returns to the ground, and he squeezes his mouth shut. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve failed our entire family, Akira. You know just how small this town is. Do you know just how Grandmother reacted when she heard about what you’d done, Akira?” His father asks, and Akira’s frown deepens. “She cried. You made Grandmother cry. Look me in the eyes, son. Now. ”

Akira complies.

“You’ve ruined your entire life with this. Worse, you’ve ruined the Kurusu family name. You should have known better than this, Akira.” His father sighs. “You’ve been expelled immediately. The court hearing is in a few days, so until then, go up to your room and think about what you’ve done.”

“...Okay.”

As he walks up the stairs, the Phantom Thieves trail behind him, staring at his back. His shoulders are slumped and shaking. Akira’s mother calls out to him.

“Don’t forget how disappointed in you we are, Akira. All of our family. Your school. The entire town.” 

Akira doesn’t reply with more than a nod of his head. He walks into his bedroom, and the group follows him as he sits down on his bed, head in his hands. Akira sighs, the sound muffled by his hands.

“I did the right thing.”

The scene changes. Akira’s sitting in a courtroom as they announce his probation. As they tell him he’s a criminal now. They charge him with assault, and the entire time, Akira’s mouth is kept into a firm line, gaze cast to the ground.

The people in the audience stand, and Akira’s teleported into the middle of them all. Voices begin to fill the room, overlapping with one another.

“Seriously, kids these days. He even looks like a criminal, doesn’t he?” “His poor parents… having a criminal as a son.” “What a terrible child.” “What an eyesore.” “Ugh, don’t get near me.” “Watch out getting close to him… He might snap and hit you, too.” “Criminals don’t have a place in our world, do they?”

Akira covers his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. “I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing.”

“Don’t listen to them!” Panther shouts, praying her voice could reach their leader. “You did the right thing, Akira! They don’t know the truth! Don’t listen to them!”

“Leader… you didn’t do anything wrong!” Fox cries out, and the rest of the thieves try to speak over the multitudes of voices speaking against their beloved leader.

“Criminals are better off dead.”

Akira gasps, turning around. The voices speaking against him grow louder and louder. His eyes dart around at all of the people surrounding him, their forms changing into something inky and dark, like the disfigured shadows in Mementos. He shakes his head, looking panicked.

“Better off dead. Better off dead. Better off dead. Better off dead. Better off dead.”

He curls up, squatting down on the floor, covering his ears with his hands. His expression remains blank, but his eyes are wide with panic and confusion. His voice rings out, but his mouth doesn’t move.

“Did… did I do the right thing?” All of the figures disappear. Akira’s slumped down on his knees now. “It… feels like I’ve been betrayed. But… by what? By that man’s lies? My family? The whole town? Society? I’ve… I’ve been betrayed, haven’t I?”

He covers his face with his hands, taking a shuddering breath. “I’ve been betrayed by my own justice…?”

“Betrayal, huh?” A voice asks, footsteps echoing. Out of the darkness comes a face that none of the Phantom Thieves could ever forget, even if they wanted to.

Goro Akechi smiles, walking closer to where Akira’s slumped on the ground. 

“Why is he here?!” Skull asks, looking over at Mona.

There’s a look of sadness in Mona’s eyes as he replies. “For him to appear here, in Akira’s Palace… Akira tried to not let it show, but Akechi’s death must have really affected him…”

“You wanted to be wrong, didn’t you?” Goro asks, laughing lightly. “For once in your life, all you wanted was to be wrong about being betrayed. Betrayed by your own justice. And… betrayed by your own teammate.”

Akira looks up at Goro, shaking his head. The brown haired male pays him no heed, walking closer and closer.

“You were betrayed by someone who you thought shared your views. Someone who you seriously thought shared your sense of justice. Not your vigilante style justice, but the kind from when you were young. Before the world betrayed you…

“The world betrayed you, and it betrayed that pure hearted sense of justice you used to believe in. But the truth is,” Goro says, leaning down on his knees, face to face with Akira now. “My justice was just as tainted as yours is. You’ve been betrayed, Akira. By me, and by your justice.”

“Please, stop.” Akira replies, shaking his head. Tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill. “You’re not real. You’re not here. You can’t be. You’re dead, Akechi. You’re not real, you can’t be, you… you… You died… ”

Goro cups Akira’s cheek in his hand. He brings their faces closer together, but just as their lips are about to touch, he speaks. “That’s right. I’m dead.”

With a flash, Goro’s face begins to rot. A hand that’s more of a skeleton caresses Akira’s cheek again. Death kisses the leader of the Phantom Thieves tenderly, softly. Like he has worth. Like either of them matter at all.

“I’m dead and gone now. I suppose, in the end, our justice betrayed us both… and now, that ‘justice’ is long dead.” Goro smiles, like an angel, like a devil, like a Grim Reaper who’s come to deliver an end to all. “Shouldn’t you join it?”

Loud, screaming voices play out. Oracle flinches, covering her ears.

“You’re such a failure.” “You brought shame to the Kurusu name. To our entire town!” “You’re such a waste of space.” “Criminal! Criminal! Criminal!” “Get away from us!” “Don’t talk to us again, Akira. We’ve been friends since we were kids, sure, but… none of us want to hang out with a convict.” “You deserve to die.”

The scene changes. Goro is gone. It’s only Akira and the Thieves now, standing on a rooftop, several stories up. There’s a set of stairs to the left of them, going down. Akira’s standing with his back to the edge, looking up at the sky.

He stares blankly upwards, seeming completely empty. “That’s… that’s right. I’m some sort of convict now. A juvenile delinquent. I have a fucking record! Maybe… maybe what everyone’s saying is right. Maybe I should kill myself. My parents wouldn’t need to deal with the shame of having me as their son. I should just...”

Akira takes a step backwards. He begins to fall.

“No!” Skull shouts, running forwards, trying to reach out, but it’s too late. Akira falls. “Fuck! Akira!”

“Stairs there!” Panther points, and the thieves start to run down them, as carefully as they can while maintaining speed. 

“I remember now,” Queen says, through heavy breaths as they run. “Victims of suicide get sent to the Seventh Circle, too. I… I wonder if he--”

“If he’s tried before?” Panther asks, with her teeth gritted. She shakes her head, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. “He’s never shared anything like that, but… I guess that doesn’t mean much.”

Mona looks like he’s unsure of whether he should speak or not, but eventually he does. “He has.”

“What?!” Skull whips his head towards Mona. “Like, recently--?”

“No! Of course I’d stop him from doing something like that. It was before he came to Tokyo, I think. When he was with that doctor once, she saw… scars, and asked what they were about. He tried to lie, and say they were from cat scratches, but the doctor didn’t buy it and told him to come up with a better excuse. He eventually admitted it…

“The doctor asked if he was safe now, and he said he was. Afterwards, he told me not to tell you guys about it. I didn’t want to betray his trust, so I didn’t. But… now I’m wondering if I should have.” Mona trails off, frowning.

“If he trusted you enough to tell you the truth, I think it wouldn’t have been good to betray that trust, but…” Noir sighs, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “I wish he would have opened up to us, too.”

They reach the end of the stairs. A door awaits them.

A familiar door, taunting them again. Queen grits her teeth, glancing over at her fellow thieves. “The Seventh Circle… Violence.”

The interrogation room door seemed to be laughing at them.

“For this door to appear in his cognition twice,” Mona says, looking up at the door. “Whatever happened in there must have had an incredibly strong effect on his mental state. Even though he’d always joke about it like it was nothing…”

Oracle walks closer, running her fingers against the door. “I… I can read a few people. One of them is…” She swallows her spit, seeming uneasy, uncomfortable. “...Akira…”

She looks scared. They all do.

“...I think we all need a moment to steel ourselves.” Queen looks over the Phantom Thieves with a concerned gaze. “I… have a feeling what lies within that room is going to be painful to watch.”

Eventually, they can’t stand and stare at the interrogation room door any longer. With bated breath from them all, Queen grips the knob, turns it, and opens the door.

Chapter Text

Even though the Phantom Thieves had entered through the door, they appear in a different location. They can see a table and two chairs. The door they’d entered through, but are now standing diagonal from, slams open. They steal glances at each other, fearing the worst.

And it's true, the saying that the moments you most dread are the ones that arrive the quickest. Time moves at light speed as Akira’s thrown in the room by an older man with a grim expression. He drops Akira to the ground, letting go of the vice grip on black curls. With a quiet groan, the leader of the Phantom Thieves raises his head, teeth gritted, blood dripping from his nose.

The man scoffs. “To think a brat like you managed all of this. If I weren’t so disgusted by you, I might even be a little bit impressed.”

“Thanks.” Akira spits out, with a glare. The man’s eyes widen, and he aims a kick into Akira’s ribcage. He screams as the man continues to dig into his side, probably breaking several of the teen's ribs in the process, and the yell of pain or the sickening sound of bones cracking that filled the air seemed to be an indicator of that fact.

“Akira!” The thieves cry out, running towards him, but an invisible wall stands in their path. It’s almost like glass, but they can’t break it. They can't get through to save him. All they can do is watch.

They're completely helpless, just like Akira is.

They can't do anything to stop what's happening. They were Phantom Thieves--they were the Phantom Thieves of Heart who took the world by storm, changing hearts and enacting justice on those who'd lost themselves to their desires. They were heroes, weren't they? And heroes of justice should be able to do anything. Anything. They could make the impossible possible, they could reform a broken world, filthy to its core, into something pure, untainted, untouched by the hands of sin.

They could tear off their masks and slay gods if they so pleased. They had before, and if the situation called for it, they would again! Because they could. Because they were the Phantom Thieves of Heart!

But right now? Right now, the very same impossible, impassable, invincible Phantom Thieves, heroes of justice? They couldn't do anything. Anything at all. They were completely and utterly powerless; astonishingly incapable and all kinds of pathetic.

After all, they couldn't even protect their leader. Their most beloved.

“I really hate that look in your eyes.” The man reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a needle filled with a clear substance. “This should do the trick.” He grabs Akira by the hair, stabbing the needle directly into his neck and pressing down, injecting the solution into the teen’s bloodstream.

Akira thrashes, trying to dislodge the needle from his neck, but it’s already empty. The man throws it to the side, dropping Akira on the floor once again. The teen blinks, looking slightly dazed already.

“It’s a fast-acting truth serum. Don’t know shit about how it was developed, and I can’t say I really care.” He laughs. “Not so snarky now, are you?”

Akira’s unfocused eyes try to make eye contact with the man, but he’s unsuccessful. The man has doubled, tripled. Akira’s vision is too blurry to tell which one was the real one and which one was just a blur. The world seems to lose color, pigment fading as the world is replaced with various, mangled shades of sepia.

“You weren’t acting alone, were you?” The man asks, sounding like he already knows the answer. “Answer me. Who were you working with?”

“No one,” Akira says, eventually. His voice wavers between too quiet and too loud, like he can’t control his volume. “I acted on my own.”

The man punches Akira square in the nose. “You’re still lying? Not enough of that damn serum, huh. You’re eager for more of it, aren’t you?” He puncuates his words by grabbing the teen by his hair again, reaching into his pocket for another syringe.

He stabs it into Akira’s arm this time, slamming the needle in violently.

Akira falls to the ground like a ragdoll, body numb and eyes completely unfocused. 

“Who were you working with?” The man asks, again, voice harsh and threatening. “Answer properly this time. Unless you want another shot.”

“...Alone…” Akira murmurs, barely conscious. “I… worked alone… No one.... else…”

The man shakes his head, injecting Akira again. This time, the teen doesn’t protest or thrash. He barely even moves, being lifted up by the man like dead weight. “We have other ways of making you talk. It’s a shame it had to come to this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” The man procures a pair of pliers. “You look like you’re about to pass out. We can’t have that, now can we?”

“N-No,” Oracle says, pounding her hands on the invisible wall; the glass barrier that kept them all separated. “Akira! Akira! ”

Akira blinks up at the man, like he doesn’t understand what’s going on yet. The drugs he’d been injected with slow his brain down, halting his ability to process what was about to happen. 

He soon realizes what’s happening when the man closes the pliers down on his pointer finger nail. Akira’s eyes widen with fear and anticipation.

The man rips off Akira’s nail with pliers, bypassing the resistance with sheer force. He doesn’t seem swayed or affected by the teen’s screams, throwing the blooded nail off to the side. “I’ll ask again. Who were you working with? ”

Through pained tears and gritted teeth, Akira shakes his head. “Alone. I worked alone--” His words cut off with another scream as the man yanks off another nail. This continues, over and over, Akira’s screams getting more and more hoarse.

He’s writhing on the floor, fists tightly clenched, fingertips dripping blood. “I worked alone.” Akira says, again, bracing himself as the man pulls off yet another nail.

He only has two nails left, and the man had the pliers already positioned on one of the final two. The man yanks the second-to-last nail off. Akira’s voice breaks as he screams. His curses incoherently, eyes unfocused as he twitches from the overwhelming pain.

Like before, Akira’s voice rings out, but his lips don’t move. His voice is measured and even, not a single ounce of fear evident in his tone. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I can handle it…” The final nail gets torn off. “We can succeed. We can do this. I can convince Sae-san. I can get the phone to her. Everything is set in place. We’ll succeed. We will. I can handle this. This is the right thing to do. This is what we need to do. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m--”

The man grabs Akira by the hair, slamming his face into the floor. He pins Akira down, twisting his arms behind his back, bending them until the teen screamed in agony. This continues, the man beating into Akira like he was more punching bag than person.

“I--I can’t watch this. Akira…” Noir squeezes her eyes shut, taking shuddering inhales. “He went through all of this and still acted like it wasn’t a big deal… I knew they beat him harshly because of the bruises, but I… had no idea they went this far…”

The rest of the thieves nod their heads. Some look away, unable to bear the sight of their leader being so violently abused. Some do not, unable to avert their eyes from the truth of what happened behind the interrogation room door.

“It’s okay,” Akira’s voice continues, clear despite how violently the man was beating him. “I’m okay… I can handle this. I can. If it’s for them, I can do it. I have to do it. If it’s for them, I can do it. I can do anything…”

“Akira…” Panther says, her hands resting against the glass between them. Tears drip down her cheeks and she leans her head against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.

Akira’s slumped on his knees, face pressed into the ground. He’s bleeding and bruised, breathing heavily as his eyes focus and unfocus. His thoughts have quieted now, his voice gone. The man pulls him up by his hair, meeting his eyes.

“No one comes down to this room, you know. No one knows what’s going on here.” The man has a sick grin on his face, eyes narrowed and almost amused. “No one gives a shit about whatever happens to you in here, kid. And no one’s coming to save you.”

Akira mumbles something completely inaudible, barely words, just mangled syllables. The world spins. The air grows cold. Colder. It’s freezing, now.

All at once, the thieves remember the words Lilim had told them, back in the Second Circle.

“Here, in the Second Circle, all sorts of things are on display. Desires, memories, fantasies… All types of lustful thoughts rest here, including the ones that you might want to forget. The type of desire that brings forth fear. The most sick, and twisted, disgusting desire… belonging to those who’d force themselves on others. Others, like a pitiable Phantom Thief.”

Lilim was Akira, too, which meant... Those words were Akira's.

Those words were Akira's true thoughts. Those words were the truth of what happened behind that interrogation room door.

The man’s grin widens, and he shoves Akira’s face close to his crotch. “You know what that means, right?”

“A high schooler, drugged, bound and beaten… Unable to fight back. Unable to resist. Unable to do anything but accept.”

“Fuck--” Skull screams, raising his weapon and slamming it into the glass. Panther does the same. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Akira! ”

The door to the interrogation room slams open, and a familiar figure enters, his long strides purposeful. Joker’s expression is boiling with rage as he snatches Akira away from the man. And without delay, pulls out his knife and stabs the man in the temple, dragging the weapon down, splitting him in half.

“That’s enough.” Joker rips his knife away, and the man disappears in a flash of red and black. Joker clicks his tongue, looking angry and disgusted. “This sort of reenactment is far too cruel, even for a Palace…”

From behind the glass, the Phantom Thieves gasp, gaping at the mirror image of their leader.

Joker reaches out for Akira, sitting down on his knees, pulling the teen in closely for a hug. “It’s okay now. It’s okay. It’s over, I promise. I’m right here. Close your eyes for me. It’s okay…”

Akira stares at his mirror image for a moment before nodding. He shuts his eyes, and Joker gently strokes his cheek, pressing a small kiss on his forehead. And then Akira disappears into flecks of black and red, like stardust in the air. 

Joker stands, wiping off his pants with an indecipherable expression. He looks over in the direction of the thieves and sighs, and with a snap of his fingers, the wall disappears, and the group rushes in.

“Hello, my beloved Thieves.” Joker greets, leaning up against the table. “Lovely weather we’re having.”

Blood, fingernails, empty syringes, and various other objects are littered on the ground. Joker follows the group’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. He gives a nonchalant shrug.

“Just now… what we just saw,” Queen starts, staring into Joker’s golden eyes. “Was that what happened to Akira?”

He hops on the table, swinging his legs. “Yup. That’s not all that happened, though. There was more. I can show you if you really want to see it, but...” Joker’s eyes narrow, glancing over at the group with a coy gaze.

“Absolutely unforgivable.” Fox chokes out, teeth bared. His face has gone red with rage, the grip on his weapon so tight that his knuckles turn white. “What they did to our leader… I will make them pay. I will tear them limb from limb with my own hands, I swear it…” 

Joker doesn’t respond to that, simply looking around the room. Noir speaks up.

“Just now… was that a cognition of Akira-kun? A cognition of himself in his own Palace? Or… was it another one of his Shadows?”

“You all don’t need to look so upset. It was nothing more than a reenactment, and the Akira you saw was just a cognition.” Joker replies, crossing his legs. He rests his elbow on his knee, and his chin in his hand. 

Queen stares him down. “‘Just’ a cognition? You say that, but you dove in to save him, didn’t you? Even though that wasn’t actually Akira.”

Joker narrows his eyes further, raising a brow. “My dearest Queen, whatever is your point?”

“The way you speak about him, talk to him and care for him is completely different from all the rest of the Shadows in this Palace. The rest of them spoke like he was someone slightly distant, and they, as Shadows, looked like their true form. But you’ve taken Akira’s form. Why?”

He gasps, mock-offended, placing a red gloved hand over his heart. “Why? Oh, isn’t it obvious? What other form would I take besides his? He is strikingly beautiful, after all. Don’t you agree, my Beloved thieves?”

Oracle shakes her head. “There was that transformation earlier, too. With your claws, wings, and face… Skull was right. It did look familiar… You… who are you?”

Joker laughs. “I’ve already told you. I’m Akira. I am Joker, The Phantom Thieves of Heart’s leader... I’m his Shadow. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“That’s not all there is to it, is there?” Queen asks, taking a step closer. “You’re not just his Shadow… after all, the Shadow and the Persona are one and the same, which means… You’re more than just Akira’s Shadow. You’re his Persona...”

Joker slides off the desk with a flourish, a small grin dancing on his face.

“You’re Arsène Lupin, aren’t you?” Queen finishes.

The Thieves look over, staring at the mirror image of their leader, whose expression has changed. Something strange hangs in the air, a strange feeling of tension, of misunderstanding, and something like fear, anticipation.

He smiles, and with a dramatic air, Arsène bows. “Indeed I am, the very same. I am Arsène Lupin, Gentleman Burglar, Phantom Thief, at your service…” He straightens back up, grin not yet faded from his face. “I am Akira’s former Persona, and now, his Shadow.”

“Is… that how it works?” Skull asks, sneaking a glance at Mona, who shrugs.

“I don’t know…This seems like a special circumstance, but it’s true that you can’t have a Persona and a Shadow at the same time… but your Shadow and Persona are technically the same being. So… what he’s saying is true.”

“Do you think I’d lie to you?” Arsène laughs lightly.

“I mean, yeah.” Skull replies, almost immediately. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this entire time you’ve been givin’ us hella mixed signals. But… earlier, how you protected Akira… I get it now. You want us to save him, don’t you? So can’t you just lead us to him already?”

“Absolutely not.” The Shadow refuses, eyes darkening. “Don’t misunderstand.”

“If you don’t want us to misunderstand, then it would be wise to explain yourself.” Fox says, curtly.

Arsène sighs. “My goal is to protect the Treasure. To protect Akira. To protect his wishes, his wants, his desires…”

“Have… any of the other Shadows wanted to protect their other selves like this?” Panther asks, taking a glance at Mona, who shakes his head. 

“Not like this, I don’t think…”

The Shadow continues, like he hadn’t heard the conversation happening right in front of him. For the first time, Arsène doesn’t look confident or assured. He’s no longer the unflappable leader of the Phantom Thieves. Instead, he resembles bewildered child; confused and unsure, searching for reason, for purpose, for an explanation of any sort from someone, anyone, who understood better than he did. “My goal… is to protect what’s most important to him… What’s most important to him…?” 

“Um, dude, are you okay?” Skull asks, eyebrows raised.

Arsène doesn’t reply. It seems like he’s unaware of the group surrounding him. He shakes his head. Once. Twice. He stares down at his red gloved hands, brows furrowing. “...What’s most important to him is… it is… What is it? What is it…? It’s… It’s…?!”

“He’s… forgotten?” Oracle says, in disbelief. "Is that possible...?"

Arsène’s gaze rests firmly on the floor as he mumbles to himself, trying to remember what was most important. His brain goes around in circles over and over and over again. Like before, in the Fifth Circle, he begins to twitch and shake and tremble.

“Step back, guys!” Queen calls, and they do, leaving distance between them and the Shadow.

Arsène’s pulling at his hair, yanking his fingers through the strands. He presses his palms into his temple like he has a migraine, digging his nails into skin for even a brief release. He’s convulsing violently, and something begins to protrude out of the sides of his forehead.

Horns begin to break through the skin of Arsène’s forehead, shining obsidian black with streaks of red like veins. He groans, painfully, as they push through his skin, blood pooling out around the horns and dripping down his face, slipping down his cheeks like tears.

He continues to twitch, even as he starts to back away from the Phantom Thieves. He grins wildly at them, though his vision seems obscured by the blood dripping into his eyes. “Tell me, my beloved Thieves,” Like every other time, he snaps his fingers and disappears. “Why are you so eager for another fight?”

“Boss fight incoming!” Oracle shouts, and the thieves stand at the ready.

A familiar, high level Shadow, Melchizedek, stands in front of them. Yet another battle begins.

Arsène bleeds all over the floor of the Ninth Circle as he stumbles to the block of ice. He slumps against it, leaning his head back, letting the cold numb him. And then, he reaches into his pocket, procuring a knife.

With a flourish, he digs the blade into his skull, carving out the horns that have grown. Arsène grits his teeth, holding back a pained scream. He keeps digging and digging, shoving the blade in deeper until he’s uprooted both horns, gripping them tightly in one hand.

With the other, Arsène pulls off the mask he’s wearing, reaching down deep. A Shadow appears in front of him, and Arsène motions to himself. Without a word, the Shadow Arsène summoned casts Diarahan on him, and disappears just as silently as it had appeared.

Arsène closes his eyes, dropping the horns on the ground. He pulls his knees up to his chest, not daring even a half glance at the one trapped in ice behind him, fearing the worst. He reaches backwards to gently graze his fingers against the ice, speaking to it’s inhabitant, voice sounding pathetic and broken.

“It’s… been so long since I’ve felt your presence… you’re gone, aren’t you?...” Arsène buries his face in his knees, taking a shuddering breath. “It’s too late… even when they come, it’ll be too late… It’s too late already… You’re gone, and I… I…

“I’m losing myself… I am thou, thou art I… But you’ve gone somewhere I cannot reach… And now, I… Who am I…? I must protect what is most important to you… To you… You… I am thou, thou art I… I’ve lost you, and now, I… I… Who am I…? Who am I…?”

He gazes up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, staring up at the frozen world around him. Tears spill down his cheeks and the Shadow hugs his knees, gripping the horns he’d ripped out of his own head. “I beg of you… someone… anyone... Save him… Please…”

Chapter Text

The Phantom Thieves descend the flight of stairs that lead to the Eighth Circle, and push open the door. Unlike the rest of the Circles, the Eighth Circle has no vast hallways or twists and turns that could leave one lost. It’s just a room, filled wall to wall with mirrors.

There are twenty-one mirrors total, each with a few words scribbled in familiar writing on the top.

“Mirrors, huh?” Mona says, walking up to one. He gasps. “These--”

“Creepy.” Skull notes, tapping it with his knuckle. “Even though they’re mirrors, you can’t see shit in ‘em.”

The mirror has no reflection. The only thing hidden within is the mirrors across from it. The Phantom Thieves’ reflections aren’t showing up, even though they’re standing right in front of it…

“Is it a trick mirror, you know, like at funhouses and stuff?” Panther runs her finger along the edge of the mirrors, trying to find an opening or an edge, but to not avail. “Hey, what’s the Eight Circle again?”

Queen looks a little bit uneasy as she replies: “Fraud.”

“Oh.” Panther looks back at the mirror. “In front of a bunch of mirrors… even though I don’t really get what they symbolize, it makes me kind of sad.”

“Hmm,” Fox hums, framing the mirrors with his fingers. “They appear to be well maintained.”

Skull sighs, sitting on the ground, leaning up against one of the mirrors. “Y’think this is gonna be like some other bits of his Palace, where we have to guess what the meaning is until we get it right and somethin’ happens?”

“Maybe.” Queen replies, looking at each of the mirrors. “The words on the top… Are these in French? And this handwriting…”

“Oh! It’s Akira-kun’s, isn’t it?” Noir asks, standing on her tippy-toes to examine the writing. “Le Mat, Le Bateleur, La Papesse… These are… tarot cards?” 

“Mirrors… fraud…” Queen mutters to herself, chin in her hands. “Maybe that he’s… acting fake? I don’t know… If you take into account that the mirrors have no reflection… I wonder if the number of mirrors correlates to anything?”

“Probably, but I dunno what.” Skull admits, using his finger to count out the mirrors surrounding them. “Uhh, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one… Twenty-one total. Anyone have any ideas?”

“Phone number?” Panther asks, but shakes her head. “Uh, nevermind, if it had to do with a phone then there’d totally be a phone instead of mirrors… But, wait, hold on--mirrors… Fraud…”

Oracle sits down on the ground too, legs pulled up to her chest. “Fraud is wrongful or criminal deception, right? I think the number of mirrors might not matter. For all we know, it could just be a number that just so happens to fit with the size of the room.”

“I guess so.” Skull sighs, leaning his head back against the mirror. 

“Hmm,” Fox hums, lips stretched into a fine line. “What I’ve thought about our Leader for quite some time is that he is akin to a mirror. He is a reflection of our own selves, his existence making us aware of qualities in ourselves we would not have noticed otherwise. His kindness, consideration, and dedication, only further provide comfort to our weak selves…”

“I kinda get what you mean.” Panther mutters. “Like, he makes me realize stuff about myself I never knew. It’s so easy to talk to him, because it feels like he’ll… I dunno, never judge me, you know?”

“Too bad he didn’t feel the same way.” Skull says, frowning. He shakes his head, and silence falls in between the thieves once more.

“Um, so…” Noir rests her axe on the ground. “What do we know about Akira-kun’s Palace?”

“Basically nothin’.” Skull groans. “Every floor of this ‘effin Palace is basically it’s own Palace. There’s no effin way we can figure jackshit out.”

“That is true.” Fox agrees, leaning against one of the mirrors, crossing his arms over his chest. “Especially in terms of theming. Each Circle is remarkably different from the last. It becomes incredibly hard to predict what might come next…”

“Okay, so… what’s been consistent?” Queen asks, looking over her teammates. They all sit in silence for a moment, thinking. 

“Umm, well, if you don’t count the Shadows that Arsène summoned, most of the Shadows haven’t actually been violent towards us.” Oracle pushes her goggles up as she speaks, adjusting her glasses. “As for what that says, uhhh…”

“He doesn’t want to hurt us.” Noir says, solemnly. She gestures at her outfit. “But he does see us as a threat. Arsène said he was going to protect the Treasure… but each time we get close, he acts out.”

“It’s kind of like in Oracle’s Palace.” Queen nods. “Even though she wanted help, she kept pushing us away. I guess it could be something like that.”

“It sorta sucks that he doesn’t trust us enough to… let us in, I guess.” Panther muses, frowning. “I mean, it’s… not like I blame him or anything. The stuff he went through… I don’t think that’d be easy to talk about.”

Mona nods. “I agree. I know he… didn’t want you guys to worry about him. Maybe that’s why…” His face falls. “I was with him all the time, but I still couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t even notice that a Palace was forming… I’m sorry, you guys.”

“Mona-chan…"

“‘S fine, dude.” Skull replies, with a sigh. “Not like there’s any way you coulda known. And even if you did know, I don’t think you woulda believed it. The Metaverse was gone, yeah?”

“...I guess you’re right.” Mona shrugs, plopping down on the ground. Noir sits next to him, pulling him into her lap. “The nightmares he had at night… he’d been having them for a really long time--since… you know, but recently it seemed like they’d been getting worse.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for this happening, Mona.” Queen says, softly. “Even if you tried to help him, I don’t think it would have been easy. A Palace formed, after all… And Palace rules aren’t known for their rationality, right? And, well… All of us are just as much to blame as you are for not realizing. If it’s your fault for not being more attentive, then it’s our fault, too. We’re his best friends, after all…”

“No point in playin’ the blame game, though.” Skull breathes out another sigh. “Where we were? Tryin’ to figure out the similarities or whatever between Circles?”

“Yeah.” Panther groans. “Although I seriously don’t know how much progress we’re even gonna make… actually, hey, you know what I’ve been wondering?”

“‘Sup?”

“What do you think Akira’s treasure is?”

The question hangs heavy in the air. None of them say anything, though possibilities circle through their heads. Mona’s ears twitch, and he looks around, still perched on Noir’s lap.

“The Treasure is the source of Akira’s distorted desires…” He says, eyes scanning the text written on the mirrors.

“Arsène said that he was going to protect Akira’s treasure, right?” Oracle asks, legs pulled up to her chest. “And said he was going to protect what was most important to Akira. So, Akira’s treasure is the thing most important to him. Which is… uh…” She trails off, looking at the others.

Again, none of them say anything.

“Damn. I kinda thought we were… what, thick as thieves? Is that how the saying goes? Either way, I just… I mean, all of us. I thought we were pretty close, y’know? Like a tight-knit group.” Ryuji snorts. “But, man, it… doesn’t feel like that, right now. I don’t wanna blame the guy or anything, I’m just frustrated that, despite everythin’ we’ve been through… He still didn’t tell us anything. I mean, your treasure is the thing most important to you, yeah? But we can’t even figure that out. It’s… it’s like we don’t know him at all.”

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Nah, man, it ain’t okay at all--” Skull pauses, realizing where the voice came from. Behind him. 

It had been so familiar that Skull had responded without thinking. Ryuji whining, and then a quick, comforting affirmation from the one who was always with him, always supporting him, always by his side, one way or the other. He turns his head around, facing the mirror, only to see--

Akira, smiling. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, a small, melancholy smile on his face. He exists only within the mirror. When Skull tries to reach out for him, his fingers simply touch the glass. Akira laughs.

“It’s okay if you don’t know.” He repeats, his voice level and firm, soft and gentle. “You don’t need to know. None of you do.”

“What do you mean?” Noir asks, and Akira disappears. A split second passes, and he reappears in the mirror labelled L’Imperatrice. 

“I am the Joker. The wildcard. The trickster. I exist not as myself, but as a reflection of all of you. There’s no need to know what’s underneath my mask. There’s nothing underneath. Nothing but dark.” Akira’s gold eyes glint.

“Whaddya mean, ‘no need’...?! Of course there’s a need for it, dude! And you do exist as yourself!” Skull protests, but the black haired male plays him no need, instead letting his gaze fall on their impromptu leader.

“His eyes… Are you a cognition? Or a Shadow?” Queen asks, and Akira disappears again, reappearing under a mirror labeled La Papesse. 

He simply nods. “I am a Shadow.” 

“Is… that possible?” Panther asks, looking a little bit lost. Akira disappears, reappears. The mirror has a different label again.

“It… Well, it shouldn’t be possible for someone to have more than one Persona, but he does anyways. Since the Persona and the Shadow are the same thing… it makes sense that he’d have multiple Shadows.” Oracle replies, tapping away at her keyboard, watching Akira carefully as he moves to another mirror. “And we’ve already seen his other Shadows… so, regardless of whether it should be possible or not…”

Skull shoots her a glance. “So… the long and short of it is… This guy’s Akira’s Shadow, just like Joker--er, Arsène is?” 

Their navigator nods. “That’s a pretty short summary, but you’re not wrong.” 

“Alright, in that case… hey, Akira. Tell us how to get down. You know, don’t you?” 

Akira holds eye contact with Skull, staring deeply into the blonde’s eyes, his gaze boasting knowledge beyond imagination. He stares into the blonde’s eyes like he’s looking into Skull’s very soul. There’s a certain kind of sadness in his eyes that Skull can’t ignore. He rests a yellow gloved hand on the mirror.

“Hey, Aki. We’re here. It’s okay. We’re gonna save you, okay? So tell us the way down.”

“...I’m alone.” Akira says, his gaze drifting to the ground. His voice cracks and his eyebrows furrow. “I’m so scared, and so, so alone. It’s so cold. I’m so… scared. I’m so scared. I hate this. I hate this. I hate feeling alone, I hate it, I hate it… I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Skull presses his hand into the glass, trying to reach in, like with the TVs. But it doesn’t pass through. It doesn’t seem to make a difference at all. “You’re not alone, dude! We’re here for you! All of us… we won’t let you be alone!” 

“Ahh…” Akira mumbles, burying his head in his hands. “I want to wake up and have this all be a dream… I wish this was nothing but a dream. I wish that none of this was real… I wish, I wish… for… for something… something… Ah, I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t…” 

“Akira, we won’t let you be alone. You don’t need to be alone anymore. You’re not alone. It’s okay, we’re here for you. It’s okay…” Panther says, moving close to the mirror. “It’s okay, Akira. We’ll come and get you, just like you’ve done for us.” 

“...I’m scared…” Akira says, quietly, voice just above a whisper. 

“Akira…” The Thieves echo, wishing they could reach out for him, wishing they could hold him close, to provide some sort of comfort for the leader they cared for so dearly.

“No.” He says, voice flat.

“Huh?” Skull gapes--

“No!” Akira screams. “No! No! No! No! ”

Lightbulbs above them shatter. The Thieves cover their faces, trying to avoid the glass shards falling onto them. The room goes completely dark. 

Fireworks dance in the air--fire, gunshots, explosives, the sounds of screams fill the cramped room. The Phantom Thieves can just barely make out their reflections in the mirrors. More gunshots--shattering the mirrors in front of them, the glass shards flying towards them.

“I can’t allow weakness! I can’t allow hesitation or fear! I need to be someone--something they all can trust and depend on!! If--if not… If I’m not that, then, then…!” 

A figure dances around in the mirrors, bright red eyes and an even brighter grin on the obsidian black of his face. His dark wings are spread out, clawed fingers doing futile damage, scratching the already broken mirrors. A horrid sound fills the air, like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Is that Arsène?!” Skull shouts, raising his weapon.

Oracle taps away, shaking her head. “No! That’s just a cognition, not the real thing--! It’s just an illusion!”

A loud cackle fills the air, one that sounds almost like Akira’s, but louder, more gall, more pointed and posed--

The walls catch flame, and the Thieves stand back to back, pressing up against each other. It’s a small room. Smoke begins to choke them. It gets harder to breathe with each passing second. The flames only grow, engulfing the mirrors, swallowing up the walls around them.

“Fuck--shit, we need to find a way out! The door--!” Skull turns, but the door they’d come through has caught flame. It’s burning down, burning to ash… There’s no escape, but if they stayed any longer, the smoke would surely kill them. “Fuck! Was Arsène right?! Are we going to die here?!” 

“N-no way… In a fire?!” Panther glances around the room, trying to find something, anything to get them out in one piece…! 

“Oracle, is there another way out?!” Queen shouts, covering her face with her hand, trying not to inhale too much smoke. 

“I’m looking, I’m looking, but--!” Her voice is shaking as she speaks, her hands trembling as she types away, searching for an escape route. “No, no!! I can’t see anything, there’s nothing!! No, are we going to die here…?! But, but--we still need to save him!!”

The Phantom Thieves hold onto each other, hugging each other tightly, like it would be the last time they ever could. Their only solace now, is that if they were to die, they would die together. But--

If they fall here, who would save their leader? Their precious leader, the one who’d do anything for them, no matter how much of himself he’d need to sacrifice? The beloved leader whom they’d do anything for, even brave the depths of Hell itself? If it was for him, they could do anything! Even escape a room with no doors, windows, no exits to be found.

“We have to find an exit!” Skull yells, looking all around the room, the grip on his weapon tightening. 

“How do you expect us to do that?!” Oracle replies, hysterical.

“Because we fuckin’ have to! We don’t got another damn choice! It doesn’t fuckin’ matter if there’s no way out! We’re Phantom Thieves, dammit! We’re the Phantom Thieves of Heart, and we’ll find a goddamn exit!”

“There are no exits!” 

“Then we’ll fuckin’ MAKE one!”

The flames bring light back to the room. A small, soft chuckle fills the air, completely unbothered by the chaos all around him.

Akira appears in the mirror labelled Le Mat. The sounds they heard earlier were indeed gunshots, if the holes in the mirrors were any indication.

“I have to protect them.”

The bullethole in the middle of the mirror aligns perfectly with Akira’s temple. A shot that would have gone straight through his skull. He stares forward, blankly in the direction of the Thieves. He looks even more exhausted than before. He tugs at his curls. “If I can’t do that, then I’m worthless.”

At his words, the Thieves gasp, finding it hard to process that their leader truly thought of himself in that way. That he thought he had no worth. Even more shocking was the idea that he had weakness. Even though the group would never admit to it out loud, in a way, it was undecidedly strange to come face-to-face with Akira’s fears.

He never let them show before. He’d always kept them well hidden, expertly concealed. Very rarely did his mask ever slip. Akira kept his fears, his anxieties, his hurt close to his chest--like the hand of a gambler. He closed his heart and threw away the key, refusing to let anyone in, refusing to let anyone carry the burdens he held.

After all, he knew better than anyone the result of answering someone’s cry for help. How quickly it could go awry. He couldn’t depend on others. He was the leader; he was the one to be depended on, not the other way around. Never the other way around. Of course, this line of thinking spun the thread for this Palace’s creation...

“If… If I can’t be strong for them... They’ll leave me.” He peers through his fingers, gaze dark. Akira looks more like a dying man clinging to life, rather than someone who is truly alive. He seems unhinged and desperate. An almost feral and all-together inhumane light shines in his eyes. “Or, worse yet...

“If I’m weak, who’s going to protect them…? I can’t let them go through anything so painful again… I don’t ever want them to feel that way again. I need to protect them… If I can’t, then… then who will…? I can’t lose them… I can’t lose them. I need to protect them. I need to protect them…”

He looks up, staring into the eyes of his team. He takes each and every one of them in, an unreadable expression in his eyes. His eyes are possessive and protective. Within his gaze lurks love and desire. His heart hangs heavy with overindulgence and starvation. Akira gazes at them like they’re the only people in the whole world. Like nothing else matters. 

He stares at him like they’re his whole world and they are. They are.

“I’ll protect you. All of you.” His hands fall limp to his sides. The glassy look in his eyes fades. They’re as clear and glossy as freshly polished mirrors. A gaze that betrays nothing, and yet reveals everything. “No matter the cost.”

His voice trails off. Akira disappears from the mirror. The placard above it glows, the words Le Mat glowing with a dim, red light--like the recording button on a camera. A click is audible from somewhere in the distance. 

With a slow, gentle creeeeeak, the mirror begins to open. Stairs leading down are just barely visible. The small room feels claustrophobic, even with the newly existing door that lacked hinges. The flames have begun to close in on the Thieves. They all come to the same conclusion: there is no way but down. If they stay any longer, the doors will shut, and the flames will consume them all. They will die as nothing more than ash.

Now, the stage has been set. The guests are in their seats. The lights dim. Silence fills the air. The curtain rises.

What lies ahead is obvious. Going down the stairs would take them to the Ninth Circle of Dante’s Inferno--the deepest part of Hell, the Palace in their leader’s heart. 

This is where Akira had been trapped, frozen in a block of ice. If they wanted to save him, they had to keep going. There was, quite literally, no way to go but forward. They couldn’t turn back even if they wanted to. And thus...

The show begins.

Chapter Text

The Ninth Circle is quiet. The cold air seems to spread to every other sense. It might not be possible to hear the chill in the air, but as the Phantom Thieves descend, it feels as if they can. The area is filled with stone pillars, extending up to the ceiling.

In the middle of the room is a familiar looking chandelier, strung up by a thick, metal wire. The walls are lined with beautiful, delicate, ornate stained glass, frozen over, thin sheets of ice concealing their colorful designs.

Heels clack against the frozen ice floors. A laugh echoes, and a voice rings out. “I see you made it.” A voice they recognize. A voice they know.  

“There!” Mona calls, pointing. The Phantom Thieves’ follow his paw--in front of their eyes is a familiar visage, one that echoes in front of their eyes, resonates in their hearts… In front of them is the match that struck and lit the fire of rebellion in their hearts.

Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves, stands before them. A wide grin stretches across his face--it’s the cat-like grin they’ve all gotten used to seeing. But it’s the expression their leader uses when facing foe, not friends. So why, oh why, was he making that face at his beloved fellow thieves?

The answer, of course, was simple. It wasn’t Joker--it was Arsène.

He jumps from the pillar he’s perched upon, flipping, landing perfectly on his feet, looking no worse for wear. His face softens, and he smiles, stepping closer. But the Phantom Thieves of Heart are on their guard--they take a step back, and Arsène laughs, mock-offended by their display of distrust.

“Come on, guys. We don’t have to fight, you know. Let’s have a little chat, instead.” He rests one hand on his hip, and uses the other to lift up his mask. Golden eyes shine like priceless jewels, reflecting against the dim light of the underground in the Ninth Circle of Dante’s Inferno. 

“We’re not here to chat,” Oracle says, arms crossed over her chest. Her voice wavers. “Where’s Akira?!”

Arsène rolls his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Did you not hear me? I said we should have a chat. That was no mere suggestion, my beloved Thieves. It was a command.”

The Thieves stand on edge, unable to disobey. Arsène smiles at them--more specifically, he smiles at their obedience. Even though they’re well equipped with the knowledge that the “Joker” in front of them wasn’t truly their leader, they all seemed to understand that going against his word would be… ill-advised, to say the least.

“I’m glad you all understand. Now, let’s talk, shall we?”

Skull glares at the mirror image of his leader, not even bothering to conceal the anger within his gaze. Anger like a raging fire, like the fire they had just escaped from. The smell of smoke follows them. “Whaddya wanna talk about, then?”

Arsène breathes out a laugh. “I can see the hatred in your eyes, Ryuji.” The blonde flinches at the use of his name, rather than his codename, and Arsène laughs again--low, breathy, familiar. “Don’t you think it’s cruel, looking at your leader with such a gaze? I thought you’d look at me more lovingly…” 

“You aren’t him.” 

“I technically am, but--ah, well, I’m getting away from myself. First off, I should welcome you all to the Ninth Circle: Treachery... You've done well to make it this far. Now, let’s talk, my beloved Thieves. Let’s talk about what you’ve seen thus far, within the depths of Hell. Now, hmm, let’s see,” He runs a red gloved finger across his cheek, pensive, lost in thought. “Where shall we start? From the top, or the bottom? I’ll explain everything you don’t understand. Consider it a service.”

“What kinda lazy recap episode is this?” Oracle snarks, shaking her head at the mirror image of their leader, who shoots her a coy wink. “Ugh. Fine, let’s start at the top. Recap episodes are just free exposition and writers patting themselves on the back, anyways.”

“Ah, yes, the First Circle: Limbo. It’s relatively easy to understand, isn’t it? Akira’s hometown… most of them haven’t done anything wrong, other than avert their gaze when it suited them. They’d look away from the truth, hold their tongues, try not to get involved, even in a situation where they could help others. I suppose most couldn’t blame them; a majority of society shares their thoughts and feelings, no?” Arsène flips his blade around, the silver glinting in the dim light. “The fight between that man and that woman on that night was of shadows, their figures barely visible. Why do you suppose that is?”

“You’re gonna make us guess?” Skull asks, raising his eyebrows in disdain.

“It wouldn’t be much of a conversation if I did nothing but talk.” Arsène replies, looking amused.

“I dunno, man, you seem pretty happy listening to yourself go on ‘n on…” 

Arsène replies with nothing more than a thin smile and a tilt of the head. It’s amazing how such few, minuscule moments read so clearly as a threat. He toys with his blade again, tossing it with ease, almost carelessly. Like he isn’t afraid of anything it could do.

“Let’s not piss him off, okay?” Queen asks, sounding a little bit annoyed. “I suppose it’s because his memories of that night were muddled, right?”

“He did mention that he had trouble remembering what happened that night, right?” Panther looks over towards Mona, who nods.

“Yeah. And it took him a while to even connect the face and voice to Shido, didn’t it? It must have been pretty traumatizing. It’s not all that surprising he forgot… It being dark probably didn’t help, too.”

“Makoto, Ann, Morgana, wonderful jobs. You’re all correct.” Launching his blade momentarily in the air, Arsène claps his hands, looking proud. The blade falls, and he catches it by the handle. “That night was the first time he doubted himself. The first time he had doubted the ‘justice’ he was so devoted to. It wouldn’t be easy for anyone to have the whole world tell you over and over that you were wrong, that you were foolish, a child sticking your nose where it didn’t belong…

“Even more so for someone who was no more than a teenager. A child in the eyes of many. In the eyes of the law, though he was treated with the delicacy one would handle an adult… which is to say, it very much lacked delicacy. Not much was shown of the night of his arrest, simply because he doesn’t remember it very well. Those memories are clouded--however, I’m sure the memories of that night would pale to other sights you had seen in the depths of Hell. But we’re not quite there yet, are we? Now, what’s next is…?” He trails off, awaiting an answer.

“The Second Circle. Lust.” Queen answers, her face pensive. 

“Indeed. The true entrance to the Second Circle was right outside of Akira’s bedroom. None of you would know the answer; so I’ll ask my question and then answer it on my own. Why was the true entrance to the Second Circle in his own home? The answer: Akira has lived in that town his whole life--the move to Tokyo was the first time he’d ever truly left his hometown. And thus, his awakening to lust was alone, in his bedroom. Of course, none of you need to hear the detailing of a young man’s sexual awakening--what with wet sheets, glossy eyes and laundry shoved hastily in the washing machine--but the reason for the Second Circle’s entrance location is that is where his idea of ‘lust’ began. In his own bedroom. I’m sure it was similar for a majority of you, no?” Arsène doesn’t wait for their response this time, continuing despite the almost awkward silence.

“In a way, the Second Circle’s appearance is rather childish, isn’t it? A nightclub. It’s almost like what a child would think up when asked to describe something ‘adult’. But what’s more interesting is the doors, his thoughts, fantasies, and memories trapped behind them. It gives off a sense of… restraint, does it not? You’d need a keen eye and quite a bit of curiosity to peer past those doors, to tear away his restraints.”

“...The interrogation room door,” Noir starts, her voice quiet. Lurking underneath was something dark, something angry. “The reason for its existence in the Second Circle…”

Arsène’s cocky expression falls. He looks almost uncomfortable, arms crossed over his chest, ankles hooking together. He taps his heel against the ground. “Lust is another form of desire. The Shadow--Lilith--one of his Shadows told you that, didn’t she? In fact, if you ask me, she told you more than she should have.” Irritation flickers across his face and he tuts, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” Queen presses, but Arsène just shakes his head again. “Those Shadows were all Akira, and thus they were you, are you trying to say that you don’t control--”

“--That’s not relevant quite yet, my dear. Be patient. You can do that, can’t you?” He smiles, voice measured and even. It’s condescending in a way that makes Queen grit her teeth, set her jaw so tightly it ached. “It was a locked, bolted door. It was even hidden from view, visible only to whom had a keen eye for detail. It was hidden because it was forgotten, or at the very least shoved down somewhere deep. It… wasn’t an easy memory to have.”

“...I understand.” Noir replies, and the anger in her gaze has lessened somewhat, replaced by a deep seated sadness. “Was there a different entrance to the Third Circle, other than the one we took? After all, the path we found was past the hidden interrogation room door.”

“There was no alternate entrance. The path you took was the only legitimate way down." Arsène explains, gesturing with his hands. “I suppose you could think of it as if he was testing you. To get past his walls and to dig deeper, you needed to look closely and peel away his mask. You needed more than just kindness to see the truth he tried so desperately to hide… You needed to be strong enough to not turn away at the sight you’d seen.”

“...A test, huh…” Skull muses, opening and closing his fist. “Hey, so... all the Shadows we’d seen were Akira, right? Does that mean the one who opened the door to the Third Circle was him, too?” 

Arsène pauses, seemingly taken off-guard. “Indeed.”

“So, when I… hugged her, and when that was enough for her to open the door, does that mean that… Ugh, how do I phrase this? If us openin’ doors and going further inside of his Palace means we’re peeling away his mask or whatever--does that mean… I don’t know, I mean the hug was good enough for that Shadow, right? So, what I’m trying to say is, well--”

“‘Could this Palace’s formation have been prevented, if any of us intervened, and tried to look closer at Akira?’-- is that the question you want to ask?” Arsène smiles. That cat-like grin has returned. “Let’s speak more generally, shall we? Let's think of the other Palaces we've traversed. I suppose it could indeed have been possible to halt the formation of our previous targets Palaces, though we wouldn’t have been able to do that unless we had a time machine. Are you following me?”

“Uh…” Skull replies, scratching at his hair. “No?”

“Think of it like--the bud of a Treasure existed within our lesser targets, those in Mementos. If we hadn't stolen their Treasure, their desires could continue to distort, and a Palace would form. So, for our former targets, they’d long passed the, shall we say, 'deadline' of their Treasure being nipped in the bud. After all, their hearts had been distorted for quite some time. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. Sorta." Skull seems to still be processing the information, but he nods his head regardless. 

"To answer your initial question, regarding Akira..." Arsène starts, "Yes. I believe the formation of his Palace could have been avoided.”

His reply is like a ton of bricks, or a sharp punch to the throat, or a kick in the gut. It’s a dull pain that kept spreading and spreading, settling inside of the Thieves’ bodies, making a home there, dragging them down with a sense of despair and sinking, sinking guilt. A guilt so heavy and burdensome that the threat of drowning in it rose to the forefront of their minds.

“Fuck.” Is all Skull says, shaking his head, gripping his weapon tightly.

Arsène eyes the group, examining their expressions. “Now, as for the Third Circle… hm, I don’t think it needs that much explaining. Unless any of you have questions about it? Tell me if you do, and I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Um, well,” Panther starts, looking a little bit uneasy. “So, why were we on a globe?”

“There’s a multitude of reasons,” Arsène nods, more to himself than the others, “It could have been seen as a threat; a show of strength--the entire world is under his command. Perhaps, ‘the world’, in this situation, would not be Earth, but rather the Metaverse. He recreated it with his own power, after all. It’s not quite the stretch of imagination for him to control it, string attached to his fingers like a puppet master.

“Another reason, and possibly one that you’re all more likely to understand,” He clears his throat, resting a red gloved hand just above his heart and grinning. A wild, feral smile that boasted confidence, power, control. “‘We will take this world…!’, indeed. More, more, always wanting more. That is the hubris of a Phantom Thief, no? We succumb to our desire, to our gluttony--always, always wanting more and more and more. We can’t be satiated. Each brush with danger speeds up our hearts and eggs us on further. How far can we push this? How far can we bend this until it breaks, snapping into thousands of unfixable pieces…

“Our,” Arsène gestures to himself, to his clothing, to his mask, “ Our gluttony extended to the whole, entire world. Our greed and our gluttony mixed into one, fused together through the flame of rebellion, manifested as the whole, entire world. You all returned to 'Shibuya' as a callback of sorts--we’re awfully fond of the dramatic, as I’m sure you understand--and, of course, Shibuya is our beginnings. As for why Shibuya was empty… Well, I'm sure the answer will reveal itself in due time. Perhaps it's obvious already? In any case, hm… I suppose you’re all rather curious about the Fourth Circle. Let's discuss that next. Any questions?” An amused smile dances on his lips; he’s clearly enjoying this.

“Why TVs?” Mona asks, and the mirror image of their leader gives a small chuckle.

“We were seen as entertainment. Society cannot reach us, they can only watch us. They don’t bother to conceal their emotion upon viewing our own. They do not enter. They cannot enter. They do not find themselves capable. Perhaps they are not.” Arsène tucks a stray curl out from his eyes, rubbing it between his fingers. “He doesn’t want any of you to be in harm’s way. He wants you to give up, to stop fighting, to be worn down by the words of those who torment you the most. After all, his goal is…” 

“...Is what?” Queen presses, and Arsène shakes his head. 

“My apologies. I have no intention of telling you our goal quite yet. We need proper build-up and tension before our ending can arrive. Wait with bated breath, my beloved Thieves. I assure you, my words have a purpose!" His smooth tone and careful enunciation clash with the casual way he’s standing, a lazy smile on his lips. He seems overly empathetic and horrifyingly uncaring at the same time, a certain type of duality only present in the so-called ‘wildcard’.

“Next, The Fifth Circle: Anger. I doubt this needs much explaining, however, if you have any questions…”

“None,” Noir says, curt. Her axe is held tightly in her hands, gripping so harshly that her knuckles have turned white. “Please, continue.”

“Very well. The Sixth Circle: Heresy. In it, you saw the truth of his childhood. Were you surprised by what you saw?”

“What, the fact he was a lil’ kid?” Skull asks, and Arsène shakes his head, looking slightly amused.

“No, no. However, that is quite a decent guess, and thus, I commend you, Ryuji!” He flashes a smile and then continues, unbothered by the deepening glare now present on the blonde male’s face. 

“...Is it his childhood aspirations that were meant to surprise us?” Queen speaks, voice measured and slow, like she’s trying to get a handle on her bubbling anger. “And, in relation to the Heresy… it was Akira’s diverged path from the sense of justice he had as a child…”

“Hmm,” Arsène hums, finger pressing into his chin. “You’re not wrong, but you’re not quite right, either. There’s far more, and far more little than you described. Akira’s form of heresy was betrayal. And thus, the betrayal of his ‘justice’ came center stage, as well as…”

“...Akechi Goro.” Oracle finishes, and Arsène gives another curt nod.

“Indeed. Akira was betrayed on every side. By that silver-tongued detective, by his family, by his town, by his former friends… He was even betrayed by his own justice. That is a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. To have what is most important to you, lost, is…” He trails off, a strange expression momentarily flickering across his face. “Such a heart-wrenching happenstance would be enough to drive even those with the strongest wills to suicide. I’m sure you all understand well, just what a double-edged sword the will to right wrongs can be. The flames of your rebellion scorch your own hands. You fight, and you fight, and you fight, but evil remains. Those with unjust, distorted, rotting hearts remain…

“In the face of such truths, how could you keep fighting…? But I suppose we’ve done it before. It isn’t impossible, and yet… Ah, well, no use in getting melodramatic over it. Let’s continue. Next is the Seventh Circle, which is…?”

“Violence.” Fox finishes, hostility evident in his gaze as he recalls the sights they’d seen; the truth behind those interrogation room doors, behind those grey, soundproof walls, equipped with a camera that’s only purpose was to taunt. His canines are bared, like a predator ready to strike, ready to hunt, ready to kill the ones who’d harmed his leader. There’s no wavering hesitation or uncertainty in his stance.

“Just making sure you’re still listening.” Arsène quips, reaching for his knife, idly fiddling with it once more. “Of course, I suppose there isn’t much to explain. I stopped the reenactment in its tracks; and the meaning of that Circle is all too straightforward. I’m sure you all understand without needing me to explain--though your mistakes have reached insurmountable numbers, surely you can understand this much, my beloved Thieves?”

“Our mistakes?” Oracle asks, the furrowing her brows hidden behind the confines of her Persona.

“Yes, your mistakes.” Arsène repeats, anger lurking behind his casual smile. He snaps his fingers. “Let’s continue. The Eighth Circle: Fraud.”

“The shit he was sayin’ in there… That he doesn’t actually exist, and...” Skull bites at his lip, obviously on edge. “And how he was talkin’ about how lonely and scared he actually was…”

None of the Thieves say a word, their mouths clamped shut, stretched into fine lines, their shoulders drawn up to their ears, tense, uncomfortable, guilt-ridden. Their eyes narrow and tears glisen in their eyes.

“...Quite the cowardice.” The Shadow muses, though it’s unclear who exactly he’s talking about. His gold eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “The mirrors within the Eighth Circle represented the bonds that he had forged. The path that led you here, to the Ninth Circle, was the path of The Fool…”

“The Fool… So, those words written…” Noir says, finger pressing into her lip, realization flickering in her eyes.

“Indeed. Tarot cards, representative of those whom he had come to know.” He gestures at them, finger passing over each and every one of them as he lists arcanas. “The Magician, The Chariot, The Lovers, The Emperor, The High Priestess, The Hermit, The Empress…”

“...What does our arcana say about us, exactly? Is that how Akira sees us?” Queen asks, and Arsène shrugs his shoulders.

“Tarot is what you make of it, what you choose to take from it--similarly, the arcana that corresponds to you is the one your soul has taken. Your path, your personality, your Persona and your Shadow…” Something like irritation crosses Arsène’s face. He quickly covers it up. “Perhaps, that false god decided them, and your fate moved forward thus… I suppose there’s no use dwelling on a matter where we can gain no answers.”

“By ‘false god,’ you mean…” Mona trails off. Silence follows, but eventually, Arsène laughs, a low chuckle filling the Ninth Circle.

“Yes. Yaldabaoth.”

Mona doesn’t reply, averting his eyes and staring at the ground, his tail flicking in the air.

“Uh, I got a question.” Skull says, raising his hand. “So, you were sayin’ that the mirrors were all the bonds Akira had, yeah? So was the one we went through--The Fool or whatever--was that, like… er, who was that with, is what I’m askin’.”

Arsène gives a curt nod. “A good question. It’s the bond formed with that God, that false prophet… The one who created an unjust game, placing the pieces as he saw fit, manipulating the ending as per his desires… The manifestation of humanity’s desires…” He grins. “Yaldabaoth.”

“I get it…” Mona replies. “The Fool represents beginnings and limitless potential. It makes sense. The Fool might represent the bond he had with Yaldabaoth, but The Fool is also Joker himself…”

“Indeed,” Arsène nods again. “As such, The Fool is the arcana that represents I, Arsène Lupin, as well as Akira's Ultimate Persona: Satanael.”

“Y’mean that big-ass demon god Akira summoned?” Skull asks.

“The very same.” 

“...Satanael can be considered the ‘awakened’ Persona of Akira’s Persona, right?” Queen speaks, slowly, like she’s carefully measuring the weight of her words.

“Indeed.”

“In that case,” She says, eyes narrowing behind her mask. “Why is it that his Shadow took the form of you, Arsène, rather than Satanael?”

A playful smile dances upon Arsène lips. “I wonder.”

“...It seems like you know.” Noir presses.

“I wonder.” The Shadow repeats.

“You’re not going to answer?” Queen asks, staring straight into his uncanny gold eyes. “You were so willing to answer all of our questions earlier. Why was that?”

“A spot of bragging, I suppose.” Arsène laughs, deft fingers reaching into his jacket and pulling out his gun. He glances at it, and then back at the Thieves, a coy smile on his face. “Ah, as loathsome as it is to admit, you all remember my little moment of, how shall we say…”

“Goin’ all batshit crazy?” Skull suggests, and for a split second, Arsène looks, completely and totally done.

“...Sure!” The Shadow replies, smile returning as the irritation on his face fades like smoke.

“You said you had forgotten your purpose.” Queen says, shifting her stance. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Arsène, who’s eyes narrow. “Have you remembered it now?”

The Shadow smiles, a soft grin resting upon his lips. He looks too much like Akira like this--he doesn’t seem like a shadow when he smiles so sweetly, when the look in his eyes is so tender, so kind, the splitting image of the real Akira, not the shadow.

“You know,” He starts, staring up at the ceiling. The chandelier hanging above all of their heads is a nearly exact copy of the ones within Nijima Sae’s Palace. It’s an almost nostalgic feeling. “For all of you, I would do anything. I would grit my teeth and bare anything life threw at me, if it was for the sake of you all. But I’m sure you know that, don’t you? You knew it before, yes, but you knew it on merely the surface level. My--Akira’s dedication to all of you is unconditional. For your sakes, we would do anything. Anything.

“We have before. We’d do it again.” Arsène spins his gun around in his hands. “On the floors above us… You saw the truth of what happened inside of that interrogation room. You saw just what we went through for your sake. Oh, don’t make that face. This isn’t to guilt you. That’s not my intent.” 

“What is your intent, then?!” Mona asks, and Arsène throws his head back in a fit of laughter. 

“ Please, Mona! You’re smarter than that. It’s really not all that hard to figure out. In fact, mere moments ago, I handed the answer to you on a silver platter! You can do better than this. C’mon, now.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me… all the sights you saw in this endless Palace… You didn’t get anything from that? No hints? No clues?” 

There’s silence from the Phantom Thieves, and Arsène shakes his head, obviously disappointed.

“My, my. What a shame. The Phantom Thieves have truly lost their touch. And here, I thought it was so obvious.” Arsène moves quicker than any of the Thieves can react, firing his gun. Once, twice, three times. He aims for Panther and Mona’s shoulders, rapid firing with deadly accuracy. It won’t be easy for them to summon their Personas now, they can barely raise their arms to tear off their masks.

Arsène shoots Skull in his right leg, sending him tumbling to the ground, and darts forward, grabbing Oracle and pressing his gun to her temple. “My intent is to protect all of you, just like I always have.”

“You say that with a gun pressed to Oracle’s head?!” Panther asks, eyes gone wide, clutching her bleeding shoulder. 

Queen’s eyes dart around as she tries to assess the situation. Arsène had shot both of their healers, as well as Skull, knocking him down so he wouldn’t be able to fight. With that, their fighting power had greatly decreased. Did Arsène not want to fight them, or was he aware how outnumbered he was? Either way, there’s now a hostage situation… Above anything else, Oracle’s safety was the priority. 

“Let her go, Arsène.” Queen says, trying to keep her voice even. She sees Oracle crying beneath her mask, shaking, obviously terrified. “You’re Akira too, aren’t you? You should understand that you’re scaring her. Let her go.”

Narrowing his eyes, the mirror image of their leader laughs, simply pressing the gun harder into Oracle’s temple, ignoring how she began to sob harder, breaths coming in shaky pants. His grip around her neck tightens. “Come now… we’ve experienced hostage situations in combat before. You all should know better--the first rule is to listen to the perpetrator's demands!”

“...Very well, then.” Queen’s teeth are gritted. “What are your demands?” 

Arsène’s eyes soften, and he smiles. “All of you, stay here with me. Forever. Down here, no one can ever hurt you. I won’t let them. It’ll be just us, for all of eternity. No painful goodbyes… No pain at all. You’ll all be safe here! I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

“Do you really think you have any right to say we’ll be safe when you have a gun pressed to our teammate’s head?!” Panther shouts, gloved hands pressing against the bullet wound on her shoulder. 

“Would any of you have listened to me otherwise?” He asks, tilting his head. Silence follows, and he laughs. “I don’t want to kill any of you. But, ah, death truly is such a fleeting thing, isn’t it?”

“You’re insane.” Mona snaps, eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, but Arsène doesn’t seem to care.

“My, my,” Arsène tuts. “Have you forgotten that I’m Akira, as well? I’m the parts of him that he hid from all of you. The parts of him that none of you were able to bear witness until it was far too late. He would sacrifice everything for you… and he would not resent you for it. He would never despise you for being unable to stand on your own. He would never be angry with you for being weak. Why can’t you understand?”

“How is that even remotely related?” Noir asks, shaking hands clutching her axe like a lifeline. 

“You still don’t understand?” Arsène shakes his head. “I’m carrying out Akira’s will. I said I’d do anything to protect you, my beloved Thieves! If I need to render all of you permanently unable to move and lock you down here with me against your wills, then so be it. This is what he wants.  

“If it’s to protect all of you, I don’t care about the means! And I don't care who I have to become. Even if none of you understand me, even if all of you hate me… If it's to protect you, I'll do anything." He speaks, voice just above a whisper. “...Even forsake my own justice…”

“You just shot at us, dude!” Skull hisses, teeth gritted as he glares down at his injury, unable to stand. “You call that protecting us? How fuckin’ weak do you think we are?!”

Arsène says nothing, but his glare speaks volumes.

“We made it through fuckin’ everything together, man! And you still think we’re weak?! We--all of us, we defeated a GOD, but you seriously still think we’re weak?!” Skull screams, beginning to pull himself up the ground, though his teeth grind with an almost sickening sound as he forces himself to stand despite his profusely bleeding wound. “We went through this entire goddamn Palace, and you still think we’re weak?!”

“Could you truly have gotten through this Palace, had Akira not been so kind?!” Arsène asks, his mask slipping, rage seeping through the cracks of his composure. “If this Palace was like any others, crawling with hostile Shadows, could you truly have made it all the way down here?!” 

“Yes!” Skull yells, now standing, though he’s gripping his leg. “You’ve been spewin’ all that bullshit about how you’d do anything and how we don’t understand you--but it’s you who doesn’t understand! We’d do anything to save our--our idiot of a leader! Our leader who doesn’t understand that we’d do anything to save him, too!”

“...You’re all such fools.” Arsène’s gold eyes are narrowed. “Such disobedient fools. You don’t know anything! None of you--none of you know anything! Don’t speak to me as if you do!” He glares at Skull, who’s still standing, despite everything. That shouldn’t be possible. He shouldn’t be able to stand despite that.

“We might be fools, but you’re the only joker here.” Mona calls, aiming his slingshot. Arsène reacts too late--the gun knocks out of his hand with a clatter, and Skull dashes forward, pulling Oracle closer and letting her hide behind him.

“Shit--” Arsène curses, attempting to reach for his gun, but--

The Phantom Thieves have them surrounded, their guns aimed directly at Arsène’s temple. He stares them down with a cold gaze. 

“You shot those three to lessen our attacking power, didn’t you?” Queen asks, tone accusatory. “You might be powerful, but in the end, there’s only one of you against all of us. All you have is your knife and gun, and now you don’t even have that.”

“Hmm, that’s true,” His voice is almost casual, completely unbothered by the array of guns pointed directly at him. He doesn’t seem to care at all. “But all of you seem to have forgotten something. Something important. What do you think that is, my beloved thieves?”

“Don’t tell me some cognitions of us’re gonna pop outta nowhere?” Skull asks, briefly glancing around. 

Arsène raises an eyebrow. “If you think that a possibility, perhaps we’re far more lacking in our storytelling abilities than we had assumed. If our goal is to protect you, why would we have even cognitions of you fight? No, no. Guess again.” 

“Can you stop making us guess and just tell us already?” Panther hisses, her gun pressing up against Arsène’s thick, black curls. He chuckles.

“None of you care for the theatrics.” He says, almost wistfully. “Fine, then, I’ll just tell you and take all the fun out of it... I’ll tell you what you’ve forgotten. It’s something very, very important…”

“Stop stalling!” Queen stares the Shadow down, glares into his brightly gleaming golden eyes. 

“This Palace is our world… No, not just that. The entire Metaverse is ours now. We control everything. It is our territory. What you’ve forgotten… I’ll remind you now. Akira--no, Joker --my other self… he holds the indispensable power of the wildcard--the ability to swap through masks with ease, the proof of his nonexistence, of his existence as nothing more than a mirror. Tell me, my beloved home, my place to belong… My most treasured Phantom Thieves of Heart… Tell me why you assumed that I, the Shadow, was incapable of such a feat?”

Arsène’s mask disappears. 

“Step back--!” Oracle cries, as a bright, golden light fills the air. 

Arsène laughs, sounding giddy. When their eyes adjust to the sudden light, they see a red gloved hand is wrapped around the talon of a vividly beaming avian, one they’d seen before: Horus. He flies up above them, flinging off the bird as he lands on a pillar that’s high up above all of them. 

He laughs again. “Come now, my dearest Thieves,” Arsène takes a step forward, into emptiness that would threaten a fall down several hundred feet, and the thieves open their mouth to shout, but as he moves forward, pillars of ice sprout up from the ground. His heels clack against the ice that grows and grows as he walks circles around the group. “Why do you look so surprised? You should have figured I could do far more than just summon a few Shadows and then skedaddle.”

Arsène hops from pillar to pillar with ease, unafraid of the far distance between him and the ground. Horus disappears into thin air and the mask reappears on Arsène’s face. “You’re not weak, you say? Very well, if you truly believe that, then prove it! Try your hand at defeating me. But let me remind you, my beloved Thieves, that I know all there is to know about you. All of you. I know everything.

“ Everything. Every last thing, down to every minute detail. I know your strengths, I know your weaknesses. I know your hopes, your dreams, your fears and your nightmares. I know all of you like the back of my red gloved hands! You’re going up against an enemy that knows you better than you know yourself. I’ve asked you before, but I’ll ask you again,” He’s looking down on them, the thin smile stretched across his face condescending and confident. “Tell me, what good would it do, trying to stand up to such power?”

The Phantom Thieves look at each other. The air goes thick, and they stay silent. Arsène sits down, crossing his legs, resting his chin in his hands and beginning to hum. 

“It’s okay, I’ll wait for your answer! You can just say the word... Just tell me you’ll stay here with me forever, and there won’t be any unnecessary violence. I don’t want to hurt you, you know.”

Mona shakes his head, staring up at Arsène. “Do you seriously think we’d agree to that? Locked up in your Palace for the rest of time?”

“Seriously! Who are we, Rapunzel?” Panther scoffs, and Skull nods.

He brandishes his weapon, raising it up towards Arsène, a threat despite the distance between them. “We’re not just gonna give up! We said it already, we’re gonna defeat you and get our leader back!”

The Shadow’s eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. His smile is gone. “Fine. Have it your way.” Arsène places his hand over his mask, and it disappears. “ Come! ”

In a flash of red and black, seven Shadows appear, surrounding the Thieves. Arsène watches, still sitting, casually swinging his legs. When Skull tears off his own mask to summon Seiten Taisei, Chi You parries all of the Persona’s attacks, muscled green arms grabbing Seiten Taisei and throwing him.

“Skull!” Panther shouts, watching as Skull’s thrown across the room, slamming into one of the many pillars of ice. She clicks her tongue. “Hecate!” 

As if on queue, Ishtar rises in front of Hecate, electricity sparking from her fingertips. She gives a gentle smile as she strikes Panther, and the blonde is left twitching from the impact of the electricity, fingers clenching around her whip as she jolts.

Fox clicks his tongue, pulling off his mask with a flourish. Odin’s eyes meet Kamu Susano-o’s. Like the other Shadow before him, Odin casts a powerful electricity towards Fox before he can dodge--leaving him shaking, shocked like Panther was. Neither of them are able to move, and the fur on their tails stand on end, looking slightly singed. 

“Come onnnn,” Arsène whines, waving his hand idly in the air. “You went on and on about how you aren’t weak, but is this seriously the best you can do? I expected more than this, at least. I’m getting bored just watching, you know!”

“Why don’t you come down and fight us, then?!” Oracle asks, up above, from within the confines of her Persona.

Arsène raises an eyebrow at her, elbow resting on his knee. “An interesting comment from you, Futaba. Though, I suppose your Persona is different from the rest, so I can’t really blame you, hm? It does get remarkably boring just watching, though, don’t you agree?”

“Heh, I do, actually!” Oracle’s typing echoes through the walls of her Persona, the sound seeping through it’s brightly colored broad grin. “It’s time for some heals!” 

“I don’t think so.” Arsène tuts, snapping his fingers. Ongyo-Ki leaps upwards, the pillars of ice following his every step as he swings his obsidian black weapon at Prometheus, an attack that sends Oracle plummeting to the ground with a crash, landing a few paces behind Mona.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Oracle whines, holding the back of her head. “Now I’m the one who needs healing…”

“I’ll handle it!” Mona calls, Mercurius materializes and a gentle, mint green light begins to glow--and predictably, perhaps, Futsunushi slices Mercurius with his sword, kicking him back before Mona can heal any of his injured party members. “Ngh, he keeps hitting us where it hurts…” 

Cybele and Mother Harlot send Queen and Noir flying, slamming into pillars of ice that crack slightly upon impact. When the group makes a move to stand, the Shadows simply knock them down again. 

Oracle’s voice rings in the Thieves’ ears. “We need to get Arsène down from there. If we can’t do that, he’s gonna beat us so badly we really will get stuck in here for the rest of forever!”

“But how are we supposed to do that?” Panther asks, gripping her sides, flinching as she tries to apply pressure to the wound there. 

“My beloved Thieves, have you forgotten that this is my world? I know that you’re talking. Need I remind you that there’s no escape? This is a fight you can’t win.” Arsène’s examining his gloves now, looking bored. “I suppose it bears repeating that this fight can end if you all simply agree to stay here with me. Can’t you stop making this hard on yourselves? I’ve said already that I don’t want to hurt you…”

“We will not give up until we’ve rescued our leader.” Fox says, standing to his feet, the electricity finally faded. He grits his teeth, readying himself as Odin attacks him again.

“Mona,” Oracle whispers, voice ringing in his head. “I have an idea about how to get him down.”

Mona keeps his expression even, though Arsène seems distracted watching Kamu Susano-o parry Odin’s attacks. “What is it?” 

“Do you remember Akira’s left ribs?”

He pauses. “I do… the few that got broken in the interrogation room, that never healed right… Wait, are you planning on--do you think Arsène retained those injuries?”

“It’s just a guess, but… We know from what we’ve seen in the Palace that Akira’s… affected by what happened to him in the interrogation room, mentally. And we already know that physically, his body still has those broken ribs. Arsène and Akira are the same, which means…”

“There’s a chance that we can use that weakness to our advantage. But none of us can get close enough! If we get near him, he’ll know we’re trying to attack him and we’ll get knocked down. We might be strong, but… without being allowed to heal, we’re getting worn down quick…” Mona glances over at the team. They haven’t lost their will to fight, but they’re all obviously injured and in pain. “Our guns will work from this distance, but if he figures out our plan before we can execute it… we’ll be in trouble.”

“I think there’s a more effective method than guns,” Oracle says, her voice quiet, bordering on the edge of insecure. “I don’t know if this is going to work, and I don’t have much time to explain, but it’s our best shot. And we need to keep it between us, just in case Arsène finds out what we’re planning. It’s going to be risky. Really risky. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

“...I trust you, Oracle.”

A clink of material being passed between them is muffled by the echoing sounds of fighting, and Prometheus rises up in the air again, and Oracle clears her throat, the sound causing everything else to still. “Arsène,” She starts, flying up in her Persona to his level. “Can you… can you really keep all of us safe here?”

“Oracle?!” Queen gasps, but stops herself, biting down on her lip as she comes to the quick understanding that her teammate is planning something.

Arsène rises to his feet, hand tucked into his pocket. “Yes. I can. You’ll all be in here forever, with me, and the sights might get boring, but… We’ll be together, forever. I’ll keep you all safe until the end of time. I promise you that.” He takes a step closer, tilting his head. “...Can I take this as you all agreeing to stay here with me?”

Futaba nods her head, and Arsène beams at her, a warm grin on his face. Part of her Persona opens up, and the two of them meet eyes. “...Why did you let me get so close to you just now? All the other times, you attacked us… You even attacked me, before.”

“Ah, well…” Arsène scratches the back of his neck, looking almost ashamed. “Well, you’re not quite the fighter, my beloved little sister, so you getting close to me is of no concern. Regarding earlier... I am quite sorry about that, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let you heal them, and I couldn’t let them attack me, either. But it’s fine now, of course! Since you’re all agreeing here to stay with me, there doesn’t need to be any more brutish and gruesome violence! 

“Quite a relief, really! It’s awfully unbecoming of me, but, ah, it truly couldn’t have been helped, yes? Akira and I--we just want to protect you all, and naturally, would go to any lengths to do so. I’m sure you understand.” His eyes soften, but he pauses. “My, I’m being rather garrulous in my excitement. You look like you have something to say, Futaba… What is it? I’m all ears.”

“...You said, in this world, anything’s possible, right…?”

Arsène pauses again, his mouth falling open. “...Indeed. I said that, yes.”

Oracle reaches out, and stabs Arsène in the ribs with Mona’s saber with as much force as she can muster. The weapon’s shoved deep into the Shadow’s torso, and Oracle twists it, causing him to writhe with pain. “If anything is possible, then even something like me attacking isn’t unheard of.”

“Y-You--” Arsène chokes out, blood pouring from his wound. Oracle’s guess was right on the money. He stares down at the wound, eyes wide, face going pale. The Shadows disappear, and his mask rematerializes on his face. The pillar of ice he’s standing on vanishes, and Arsène falls to the ground, crumbling on the cement floor like a ragdoll. Despite the height he’d fallen from, the drop happens quick.

Panther grits her teeth, forcing herself not to look away. She seems shaken by the sight, the view in front of her reminding her of another painful moment. The Thieves dash forward, circling around Arsène’s limp body. Mona picks up his saber, fallen a few feet from where the Shadow was laying. Mercurius appears, and Mona heals his teammates, and they nod thankfully at him.

Arsène groans.

“C’mon, man. Get up.” Skull sighs, leaning over to extend a hand to their leader’s mirror image, his weapon held in his other hand. “You ‘n Akira are the same, yeah? So, I know you’re not so weak that you can’t stand.”

With a laugh, Akira raises his head, golden eyes fading to a familiar steel grey. “I guess I’m weaker than I thought I was…”

Eyes wide, Ryuji gapes. “Akira--?”

In one sweeping motion, Arsène reaches out and swipes Skull’s weapon, swinging it, forcing the Thieves to take several steps back. He barks out a laugh, slamming it into the ground. He rips his mask off. “It’s time to do this the hard way. Come, Metatron!” The Shadow floats behind him, wings circling almost protectively around Arsène. “I suppose any of you losing a limb would prove inconvenient, but… very well. If it keeps you safe, here with me...”

Noir blinks, recalling similar words they’ve heard before, said by someone else within the Palace.

“I only need your hand to sign this. I don’t care if you lose a leg.”

Her eyebrows furrow and she grits her teeth, stepping forward. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? Right now, you’re acting no better than our former targets!” Noir hisses, well-aware of the weight of her words, her Father’s visage echoing in her mind. “You’re acting no better than those men in the interrogation room who hurt you so. There’s no cause just enough to justify hurting someone! Is this really what your justice has become?!”

Arsène snarls. “How dare you. How dare you!” He takes a step forward, the ground cracking with every step. Skull’s weapon falls out of his hand, clattering to the ground. The Shadow doesn’t seem to notice or care, too absorbed in his rage. “How dare you say I’m like them?! Why can’t you understand?! I’m doing this all for your sake! Why won’t you listen?! Why can’t you just understand?! This is what Akira wants! These are his last wishes, so why can’t you respect that?! Why can’t you just get that through your head and accept it already?! Why can’t you just give in?!”

“Because he’s our friend! Because we believe in him! Because we know he’s still alive!” Skull shouts, taking a step forward, grabbing his fallen weapon. “Because we care about him. Because we want to save him! C’mon, be honest with yourself! You can’t say you don’t understand that! Don’t you want to see him again?! Don’t you wanna save him?!”

“Don’t.” Arsène hisses, speaking so quietly that it’s barely audible. The world around them begins to shake. The chandelier suspending in the air crashes, falling behind them, the delicate jewels scattering and falling into pieces all around them. “Don’t act like you understand!”

Everything begins to shatter. The pillars of ice crack, crumbling down in large pieces, sharp as glass. As the Shadow continues to yell, the Phantom Thieves are pushed back with the impact his emotions have on the environment around them, the concrete they’re standing on breaking.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! Don't act like you understand! Don’t act like you understand me! ” Concrete breaks through the ground, blooming like a flower, a lotus carved from stone beginning to pull Arsène higher into the air. “Get it through your skulls already! He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s fucking gone! I haven’t been able to feel his presence since the Fifth Circle! He’s gone! He’s GONE!

“And none of you--none of you understand! None of you understand what it’s like to lose this, to lose your other self! So don’t fucking act like you do--none of you know what it’s like to lose yourself like this! I am thou, thou art I… I am the pillager of twilight, Arsène! But--but where is he?! Where is he?!” He’s shaking now, eyes wide. “He’s gone! And none of you can understand that! He and I are one and the same but now he’s GONE! He’s gone, so--so…!

“Who does that make me?! Arsène Lupin, Gentleman Burglar?! Non, for he and I are one and the same! If he disappears, so do I! And now, I am nothing! I am no one! He’s gone--he’s gone… He’s gone--! ”

Arsène begins to twitch and shake, limbs violently seizing--but despite this, his expression remains flat. His breath comes out in sharp inhales, jaw clenched so tightly that even viewing it made one’s jaw feel that same tension. 

"H-He's transforming!" Oracle calls out, and the group watches the Shadow carefully.

His golden eyes, dark with sin, gleam with a dull sheen. Arsène’s lips part, and he continues to speak, voice flat and almost hollow.

“...I am thou, thou art I… Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own Treasure… For whom is willing to forsake even morality for those who are most important to thou... Thy who’s will shines brighter than even the most dazzling of stars--and now, thou have been chained to hell itself...”

The platform he’s on rises higher and higher. The ground the Thieves are standing on begins to rise, too, a slab of concrete rising up high. They steel themselves, trying not to lose their footing as they begin their ascension up to Arsène’s level.

The shine returns to the Shadow’s eyes, and he lifts his head, looking straight at the Phantom  Thieves, standing level to him now. “Even though my former self is gone now, I’ll continue his mission. I’ll carry out his will. No matter what I have to do, no matter how much blood I get on my hands, no matter how tainted our heart does become…!”

“It’s fine if you’re tainted!” Skull shouts, taking a step closer.

“That’s right!” Panther agrees, nodding her head, conviction sparkling in her eyes. All of the Thieves seem to share that conviction, the gleam in their eyes more dazzling than any stars in the sky. “We’re the Phantom Thieves of heart, aren’t we?! So even if you're tainted... It's okay!”

“Panther’s right!” Mona calls. “It doesn't matter how far into the deep end you go!”

“It’s true,” Fox agrees, his hand resting on the sheath of his sword, prepared to fight for what he believes in. It went without saying that every single one of them felt the exact same way. “We will change your heart. We will rescue our leader from the prison of his heart…”

Queen steps forward. “We won’t give up until we save him. We won’t be giving up, no matter what happens!”

“And we’ll save you, too, Arsène!” Noir raises her axe, pointing it at the Shadow. “We’ll save you both, just like you’ve saved us!”

Prometheus circles around in the air, and Oracle grins. “What everyone’s saying is right! We’ll never, ever give up--”

In a loud, clear voice, the voices of the Phantom Thieves of Heart ring out. They stop being separate voices, each of them melding together as one, like a harmony, like a melody, like a prayer, like salvation. They speak without hesitation or fear.

“Kurusu Akira, sinner of solitude. Thou who have caged your heart away from even the ones you care for most--you shut yourself away from us out of fear, while forgetting the true value of the bonds we share, and the trust we hold in you. You see us as weak, and resort to inhumane, unnecessary methods to keep us here with you. But we won’t abandon you, and we won’t leave you alone. If you’ve lost sight of your justice, then we’ll bring you back on the right path, just like you’ve done for us! However, it seems as if our words have fallen on unhearing ears. As such, we will take your distorted desires without fail!”

“We, the Phantom Thieves, will steal thy blasphemous heart--!”

Arsène stares at them, his golden eyes wide. And then he grins, leaning his head back, laughing hysterically. He pulls off his gloves, dropping them off the edge of the pillar he’s standing on. “...You want to steal it? Do you think yourself capable? Do you truly believe you can steal my heart from me? Ahaha, ahaha… I understand. I understand. If that’s the case, then…”

He trails off. Arsène’s body begins to twitch and seize, but he doesn’t try to fight it. He succumbs to it. He closes his eyes. 

The sound of tearing fabric echoes through the Ninth Circle as wings rip through Arsène’s back. He leans over, clutching at his head as blood begins to drip down his face, down his neck, multiple growths spurting out from his scalp.

The blood continues to flow, enveloping Arsène’s costume. It metamorphoses into something different, golden epaulettes sprouting from his shoulders, a red sash forms, crafted from Arsène’s still dripping blood. His pants change into black shorts and grey thigh highs that jut out at the thighs, gleaming golden buttons adorning the sides of his legs.

A spinning halo materializes above his head, spinning like a crib’s mobile. The growths breaking through his scalp push out fully, three pairs horns revealing themselves. One pair juts out from underneath his ears, curling up and framing his face like his wild black curls; another pair extends outwards from the sides of his head; the final pair grows out of the left and right sides of his forehead, burning red flames that seem to move and dance on obsidian black.

Three pairs of wings extend from his back. He’s barefooted now, and with every breath he takes, his earrings jingle, the jewels hanging on a string from a pair of his horns sing like a chime in the breeze. 

“T-this reading…” Oracle mumbles, sounding equal parts amazed and horrified. “Remember how, earlier, Queen asked why Akira’s Shadow took the form of Arsène, rather than Satanael…?”

The group nods her head, and Queen tightens her grip on her weapon. “...I get the feeling we now have our answer.”

Arsène eyes open. And then they open again. And then they open again.

Three sets of bright, golden eyes stare at the Phantom Thieves. He raises a hand, tilting his palm towards himself. Arsène blinks slowly, arms making an “x” as he crosses his hands over his face. A gift from a false god, another pair of eyes, on Arsène’s palms blink back at the Thieves. The iris is an eerie, inhuman, almost too clear blue. 

“If you truly believe you can steal my heart, I invite you to rise up for the challenge…” He trails off, lowering his hands, the eyes on his face opening up again. Arsène’s smile has completely faded now, replaced by an unsettling calm. “For I am the Shadow… The true self. Though our heart has become tainted, blackened with profane desires…”

“He’s coming!” Oracle shouts, and the group raise their guard, prepared for the final battle, the fight that they couldn’t lose--lest they remain trapped in Hell forever, and lose their leader for good. “Get ready, guys!”

Arsène lifts his head, halo spinning. He stretches his hand out, magic sparking from his fingertips, dying the air around him in black and maroon red. He aims at his beloved Thieves, eyes half lidded as he speaks again. “...I shall carry out thy will.”

Chapter Text

Arsène--no, Satanael’s overabundance of dramatic flourishes and confident smiles seem to have melted away, replaced by a disquieting stillness, of calmness. His many eyes glance over each and every one of the thieves, the eerie gold boring into their souls, setting them on edge, faltering, threatening to tip off and fall to their inevitable demise.

The black and red pouring from his fingertips spark, and it wraps around the Phantom Thieves like a malicious embrace. The colors fade into an almost blissful nothingness, fading and fading into sepia and then shades of grey, and then, finally, it shines with a diaphanous blue light.

“What was that?!” Mona cries out, glancing up towards Oracle, who, within the confines of her Persona taps away at loads and loads of screens scrolling past in the blink of an eye.

“I--I don’t know!” Oracle replies, “It doesn’t seem to be a debuff of any kind, so it’s okay… probably.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘probably’ ?!” Skull shouts, readying his stance. 

“Probably means we’re probably gonna find out! Get ready!” Their navigator shrieks. They all ready themselves, feeling resolution in their hearts, determined to fight this battle and win. And yet, despite this baseless feeling that everything would be alright, there was something unsettling about the Shadow’s form.

Staring at Satanael felt disturbing, somehow. Like he was seeing something secret, something private--or maybe it was a feeling more akin to being afraid of a monster under your bed, and in a moment of courage throwing your body over the edge of the bed and peering into the depths; into the darkness, into the emptiness of the mask their beloved leader hid behind all too eagerly and for far too long.

That darkness was the unseen, the unknown, the unspoken.

That darkness was a gaping maw with the uvula performing a role as the shining beacon of temptation, the fruit in the Garden of Eden, baiting them, drawing them in further and further with invisible puppet strings. Despite the distance between them, the space separating Satanael from the group was far too little and far too small. 

It was like watching a string be pulled taut from either end. One could do nothing but helplessly watch as it splintered and frayed at the edges, a silent clock ticking in the distance, a countdown to their demise. 

The Fool’s heart was a wide jaw, a gaping hole. The Thieves could only wonder just when the maw would snap shut, teeth sharp and dangerous, gleaming like the blade of a guillotine. 

Satanael raises a hand, and from the tips of his fingers comes burning bright magic, shaking the platform they’re all standing on, threatening to knock the thieves off their feet. He doesn’t seem even momentarily phased, seeing them all standing despite the force of his attack. He gazes at them with a glazed look, six pairs of golden eyes half-lidded with disinterest. 

“We need to take him down! Let’s hit him with everything we’ve got!” Queen calls, turning her head to glance at her fellow thieves, who nod. She tightens her grip on her brass knuckles, taking one step back to sweep one foot back, knees bent as she readies herself. She gives a nod to Skull, and he makes the motion to pull off his mask, but as he does--

Satanael’s hands cross over his chest, palms facing the thieves. He shuts all six pairs of eyes and takes in a steady, smooth inhale. The clear blue eyes on his hands open, and from his lips slips words barely above a whisper. “I can see it.”

When Skull aims God’s Hand at Satanael, it doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t even ricochet. The giant golden hand that could unsteady even the Holy-fucking-Grail didn’t seem to make a lick of difference. “What--what in the hell?”

Mona clicks his tongue. “Show them your might, Mercurius! ” 

Once more, Satanael’s blue eyes glow. “I can feel it.”

Mercurius’ whirlwind of green gale has no effect. It seems like the attacks aren’t even reaching him, like he’s negating them somehow. Mona’s eyes widen in shock, and he looks up to where Oracle’s no doubt running scan after scan, desperately searching for an explanation, and more importantly, a way to fight back.

No, not even fight back. The truth was far more worse than the inability to fight back. They needed to figure out how to do anything. As they continue, as they keep pushing, as they keep firing attack after attack, blow after blow; each time Satanael’s blue eyes glow and their attacks just… disappear. 

“Oracle,” Noir says, ax in hand, “Just what’s going on?”

“I--I don’t know, I don’t know, but…” Oracle types away, frantic, “But I think he’s negating our attacks. All of them. Anything we could possibly do, he can see and just… cancel out. No fair, that’s… that’s cheating!” She screams, shaking her fist at Satanael, and although he was no longer the skyscraper height he once was, his very presence felt massive, larger than life, looming over them with vengeance and vendetta; with their leader’s face he stares blankly black, golden eyes vacant. 

“How the fuck are we meant to even land a damn hit, then?!” Skull shouts, again summoning his Persona and firing off a massive attack; but again their foe vanquishes it, and stares them down again. He seems past bored, past uninterested; he seems far away. He seems empty. There was nothing left of him, and yet he kept pushing and pushing forward; a mirror that reflected nothing, a mirror reduced to shards on the floor from bullet holes and needle pricks and broken promises; false justice and broken arms and legs, shed blood and tears landed them all here. 

“We must try!” Fox calls out, bringing forth Kamu Susano-o--who again was parried, and Fox grits his teeth, and summons again. This time, Satanael ceases all movement, and Fox mistakes this for a chance. “Kamu Su--”

“No!” Oracle yells, but it’s too late. Satanael had drawn his gun, and fired a shot straight through Fox’s skull. His mask shatters, and he crumbles to the ground. 

“Oh my God,” Panther rushes forward. “Hecate, Hecate, I need to--” 

Satanael raises his gun again, and fires. One by one, they all fall; they lay on the ground, collapsed, bleeding out from the center of their skulls, their masks shattered, their breathing weak. Satanael pauses, looks up at the ceiling, and gauges its height; and then he transforms, returning to a size they’re more used to seeing. Gently, he picks them up one by one, holding them in his hands. They’re small and powerless in comparison to him. They were mere ants in the face of a God. 

He flicks Prometheus around idly, carefully extracting a bleeding Oracle from it, and cradles her in his hands with the rest. Although the room had once been filled with screams, shouts, the sounds of battle and carnage, now all was silent and still. Even the fading breaths of the Phantom Thieves could scarcely be heard. Through narrow eyes Satanael gazes down at his other self, trapped within the ice. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. 

Akira was gone. 

Satanael inhales slowly, and sits down. He gently, tenderly, lovingly strokes the heads of his teammates with a finger, soothing them. “None of this had to happen. All of this could’ve been avoided.”

“If we’d… just… heard him out, right…?” Skull says, coughing up blood as he speaks. Satanael stares back, and slowly shakes his head. “...what?” 

“All of those Shadows, within our Palace…” He speaks slowly, and closes his eyes. His voice sounds far away to all of them. Everything was fading. They would all die here, but at least they would die together. “When your other self receives a blow, how does it reflect on you?”

“What are you talking about?” Skull responds, voice aggravated despite his injuries, “What are you on ab--”

“Oh, God,” Queen says, and her voice breaks. “We were killing him.” 

Her words, her realization, strikes deeper and more fiercely than any other blow. They all feel the weight of their actions. They’d killed him. They killed him. 

“We--we were just trying to help,” Panther’s voice shakes. She’s sobbing. “Akira…” 

“It’s all our fault?” Oracle asks, and no one can bear to respond to her; no one can confirm the truth. They had all broken under the weight of what they’d done. 

“Stay with me,” Satanael says. “It is what he would have wanted. Although we may freeze here, slowly and painfully, I will keep you comfortable. I will heal your wounds. I may be a shattered reflection, but within me still burns the will to protect you all. Stay with me, and the rest of your lives will be as painless as possible. The Shadows on every floor are gone now, none is as stable as I, so deeply entwined with his heart and soul; we could return to each Circle, there are things to enjoy on every floor. We can live out our days until his body decays and the Palace collapses.” 

“Is this how it all ends…?” Noir’s barely audible. She buries her face into Satanael’s palm, and he caresses her hair, comforting her. It would be so easy to lean into his touch, to be weak, to freeze. They would die together. 

But if they died, how would Akira ever know that they came to get him? That they loved him? That they saw all of this, they went through all of this, and they still loved him. They accepted him. 

All of them seem to understand this, but they can’t fight back anymore. They couldn’t even summon their Personas, and the clock was ticking faster and faster for all of them. None of them could raise their weapons.

On their own, at least.

Together, their hearts united, the group split into two on Satanael’s open palms yet acting as one; with Mona’s and Skull’s weapons clutched in pairs and pairs of hands, they drive the weapons held together into Satanael’s eyes, the sight gifted to him by the false god, the puppetmaster of their fates; but they were long since out of his control, and their hearts burned bright with fire, rebellion, and love. Deep, pure, love.

Satanael screams, and from his palms they fall to the floor, and the world goes black.

The Phantom Thieves wake somewhere unfamiliar. They haven't been to this particular area in the Ninth Circle; but there were candles on the walls, as if this room was frequented. It was secluded and silent.

“Where… are we?” Panther says, rubbing her head. And she realizes something shocking; they’ve all been healed. They were on the brink of death before, but now… they were fine. Perfectly fine, all in one piece. 

“I do not know, Oracle, could you perform a scan?” Fox asks, readjusting his mask. 

Oracle shakes her head, and points forward. “No--no need. We’re… we’re here. Akira…” 

They all turn, and see a fear they never knew could come true. Their leader stood there, arms folded over his chest, pale and purple. Within the ice he took not even a single breath. It was over. They were too late. They had killed him. Their leader was dead, and it was all their fault. They hadn’t been there for him, none of them had. And now they were paying the price. 

“Fuck!” Skull screams, slamming his fist against the ice. “Come on! Akira! Fuck! You aren’t dead, come on!”

“Stop it,” Oracle sobs, Panther and Queen rushing to her side to wrap their arms around her. “Stop it, Ryuji. Just--just don’t… just…” She breaks down completely, collapsing to her knees, hysterical crying filling the room. One by one, some quicker than others, they all break, sobbing, screaming; in denial, in utter denial. None of this could be real. Their leader couldn’t be dead. Maybe this was all just some sick dream. Some horrific nightmare. They’d all wake up soon, and they’d go over to LeBlanc, and Akira would answer the phone with a dramatic flourish and a laugh and nothing would have changed, everything would have stayed the same, and he would have been fine, he would have been alive, he would have been there, he would have been alive. 

Their sound of their mourning overpowers another quiet sound. 

The pitter-patter of water droplets. 

Mona looks up, and approaches the ice. “It’s… melting.” 

They all look up, and some curl in on themselves; to them that only meant they would need to come face to face with his frozen corpse, to touch his skin and feel nothing but cold; they had been robbed of one last brush of his warmth to remember him by. In some ways, this would be worse. 

But the ice continues to melt. It melts faster, and faster, as if a flame was burning from within.

The ice melts, and water pools all around them; Akira falls to the ground, and his teammates rush to his side. Panther holds him in her arms, brushing his bangs away from his face. “Akira, wake up!” She touches his cheeks with her hands. “He’s so cold… I--Hecate, please. Don’t let him die.”

Her Persona emerges, and on her face is a look of worry, and from her hands emerges a flickering flame. Time passes slowly as warmth returns to all of them, as their horrified tears dry, as more tears flow. They all share worried glances, when Akira shifts, and the whole world stills. All of the Thieves hold their breath, and eventually, finally… 

Akira opens his eyes. 

He sees his friends, his team, his place to belong in front of his eyes and smiles. He holds the hand Panther has on his face, leaning into her touch. “You guys came for me… Are you all okay…?”

“Of course we’re okay!” Skull says, dropping to his knees, tears in his eyes. “We’re okay, Akira. We’re okay. We’re here--and why’s that the first thing you ask, huh?” He laughs, but he’s sobbing. “What about you, man? Are you? Are--are you okay?” 

“A bit chilly.” He says, and none of them can help a laugh, a smile, more tears. He looks over them, eyes taking all of them in one by one. “Thanks for coming to rescue me, you guys. I’m sorry if you saw something kinda lame in the process.” 

Oracle helps him sit up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. There are tears streaming down her cheeks as she speaks. “You’ve already seen how lame we can be. It’s fine. I’m so glad--I’m so glad you’re okay, Akira, I was so worried, I--” 

Slow clapping fills the room. Arsène has a smile on his face, his gold eyes glinting in the light. “This is a really heartwarming reunion. Even I’m getting emotional.” 

Akira stares at his shadow self, mouth slightly agape. He starts to stand up, despite the protests of his fellow Thieves. “I’m okay, guys. I can stand.” And he does, slowly making his way towards his shadow, staring into his eyes. “It’s sorta weird, seeing myself face-to-face like this…”

Arsène smiles, nodding his head. Akira realizes his mirror image’s expression has softened into something gentle, something genuine. “Would this encounter boost your self-confidence?”

“Doubt it.” Akira sighs, shaking his head. He reaches out, cupping Arsène’s cheek with his hand. It’s just as ice cold as his own skin. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long, Arsène.”

The Shadow laughs. “It’s quite alright. Though I had my doubts, I felt as if our parting was only temporary. Mayhap that was merely hope, but nonetheless, here you stand, before my eyes. I’m truly overwhelmed to see you here. I had feared you would remain captive in the ice for all eternity. Had they not saved you…” He looks over at the Thieves, gaze warm. “I fear I would have lost you for good. They all would have.” 

“Mm,” Akira agrees, nodding his head. “Speaking of…” He turns back to the melted ice. He strides towards it, and reaches in. Akira pulls out a swirling orb, colored light blue. 

Mona blinks, dashing over. “That’s…”

“I guess it won’t materialize in my hands, huh. That’s kind of a shame. I would have liked to be the first thief to steal my own Treasure.” He laughs. “I guess that’s just the insatiable greed of a phantom thief, though. Here.”

He stretches his hand out to Mona, the still unmaterialized Treasure in his hand. A flash of emotion crosses Mona’s face; he understands all too well the depth of trust Akira was showing him, handing him his Treasure, the source of his desires, the source of it all, and he takes it, gratefully. In a whirlwind of light, the Treasure floats momentarily in the air.

The Phantom Thieves wait, watching as the Treasure materializes. 

Slowly but surely, a photo appears before their eyes. The one Akira kept framed by his desk--a selfie with all of the Phantom Thieves squeezed in it. They’re all smiling. It’s a blissful moment, frozen in time for eternity. 

Akira blinks, staring at his Treasure. His eyes flicker away, and he raises his hand to fiddle with his bangs. “...The source of my distorted desires was the love I had for you all. That’s actually kind of embarrassing...” Although they’re barely visible, the tips of his ears are flushed; who could say if it was from the cold, the sudden warmth, or a rare bashfulness almost unprecedented on his face.

Arsène nods his head. “That’s right. The love you felt, the devotion… Your willingness to do anything for them… But your fear of the world around you, around them is what caused I, your shadow, to manifest. All you wanted to do was hide your weakness, to appear as their flawless leader, someone they could rely on no matter the situation… But that desire was the catalyst in revealing the weakness you tried so desperately to hide.”

“You’re right.” Akira admits, smile melancholy. “I know that your guys’ lives are so… hard. I know the world isn’t kind. And I just… wanted to be someone you could all rely on. I wanted you to feel you could trust me with even the weakest parts of yourself, but I betrayed that trust by not giving you the same thing in return. Some part of me worried that if… If I was anything other than flawless, utterly impenetrable, that maybe… Maybe you wouldn’t need me anymore. Maybe I wouldn’t matter anymore. Maybe I would…

“I would lose my place to belong with all of you. And that scared me. It scared me so much. I--I know I act all suave and cool, I know I’m not good at being expressive if it’s not being cocky, but the truth is, I…” He stares at the ground, hands clenched into fists. “Going back home made me realize how lonely I really was. I felt so pathetic. I felt so small. Honestly, I felt like utter shit. I wanted to seem strong, and I didn’t want to admit just how much I missed you guys. I didn’t want to admit how lonely I felt, because I didn’t want you to think less of me for having weakness.”

“Akira-kun,” Noir says, taking his hand gently in hers. “We would never, ever chide you for weakness. Ever. To do so would be… unjust. We’re your friends, Akira. And real friends would never think less of you for such a thing.”

Tears slip down Akira’s cheeks, and he tries to wipe them away, but they just keep coming. “I--I guess so, huh? It’s sort of silly, in retrospect.”

Fox rests his hand on Akira’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t put down your own feelings, Leader. Your insecurities are of no humor. It’s quite alright to feel the way you do. Akira, you accept us… for anything. It’s only natural we’d do the same for you, yes?”

Akira cries harder. He tries to wipe away the tears that just keep falling. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Noir pulls him close, hugging him tightly. “It’s okay, Akira-kun. We promise. If you’re scared, if you’re lonely… We’ll always, always be there for you, just like you’re always there for us. Let us be as kind to you as you are to us. We love you just as unconditionally as you do us.”

He wraps his arms around her, hands clenching the fabric of her thief outfit, nodding his head as he cries into her chest. “Okay. I’ll try.” Akira sniffles, and Noir wipes the tears off his cheeks. "I love you guys. So much. More than… more than anything in the world…"

Their emotional moment is broken by a quick clear of the throat, and the group turns to look at the semi-offender. Arsène has an indecipherable expression on his face. “Well now, I don’t mean to be selfish nor needy, mon amour, but surely some of that affection could be spared for me, non?” He gives a practiced smile, but it falls flat. “Please don’t make that pitying expression at me, I’ll get embarrassed.” Arsène says, lighthearted despite the atmosphere. “Perhaps instead I should say, ‘What now?’”

“No, you’re right,” Akira says. “You are me, after all. And I think it’s pretty evident I don’t like myself very much.” He says those words so plainly, like they were nothing; but the Phantom Thieves go agape. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that so bluntly, but it’s true. I really don’t like myself. Sure, I’ve got plenty of good traits, not to brag--” 

“Brag away,” Fox affirms. 

“Thanks, Fox.” Akira laughs. “But, I don’t know. Sure, those are me. But there’s so many versions of me that I sort of lost sight of it all. And I didn’t really like any version of myself, I just liked what I managed to do for people. All I’ve ever wanted was to be helpful, to be useful, to… do what I thought was right, you know? And I did, I did do that. I don’t regret it, even some of the shit that got me into, well,” he gestures vaguely, “Deep shit. So to speak. But it led me all to you, so it’s not bad. I don’t regret it.

“But I guess I did lose sight more than once, more than twice. You guys trusted me more than anything else in the whole world, and… well, I lived up to it the best I could, but in the end I don’t think I was being a good friend.” 

“Whaddya mean, man? Don’t talk smack about yourself like that, all the shit you’ve done for us--” Skull begins to protest, but Akira raises a hand, and he stops. 

“I don’t mean that. I don’t want to downplay the importance of my influence on you; it isn’t my job to determine how you feel about me. I don’t get to decide that, even though I wish I could. And that’s the scary part, you know? I never really know when the other shoe is going to drop, and you’re going to abandon me like the rest. And I was so scared of that. You’re my best friends, and you trust me with anything; but I trusted you with nothing. 

“I looked down on you, I thought you were all weak, I didn’t think you were good enough, not just for the world but for me, and I doubted you. I doubted that you cared about me. I’ve seen just about everything regarding you guys’ personalities, and I never once stopped liking you. Honestly, even your ‘bad’ qualities just made me like you more. Because I felt like, I don’t know, as if being let in like that made me special. And it did! It’s… it’s really special, to trust someone enough to let your guard down around them. To trust that they’ll catch you in your vulnerability. But instead I just fell endlessly down. I froze my heart with the idea I had of you guys clutched so tightly in my hands I couldn’t see it properly anymore.” He pauses, and looks at Arsène.

“You’re me, and I’m you. I am thou, thou art I, and all of that. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? You’re more than just me now, Arsène. I think you always have been, and I was never able to accept that. I rejected you, too, because I couldn’t accept the fact that there was someone who knew everything about me, all of my sins; Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, and finally, Treachery. You saw all of that and still accepted me. You still cared about me, you still loved me, and all you ever wanted was to keep me happy, and keep me safe, right?”

Arsène quietly bows his head. “...yes.” 

Akira smiles, and steps closer. “Thank you, Arsène.” He turns to the Phantom Thieves. “And I’m sorry, guys; seriously. I wasn’t being a good friend, and I didn’t trust you with anything, despite how much you trusted me. I was so afraid of the idea that you’d change and leave me behind, that I couldn’t let myself see how strong you’d all become. And that was wrong of me; I was too blinded by fear, too blinded by all of this to understand that you wouldn’t leave me. And if you did, it wouldn’t be so easily, like I kept worrying about; that you’d just up and disappear one day.” He laughs. “Thank you, for coming to rescue me.” 

“Hey, is it just me, or is this sounding a little too much like a goodbye?” Oracle asks, tone light but voice quivering.

Akira laughs again, and shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not. Sorry if I scared you. I was just thinking, maybe it’s time for me to change too; you know, catch up with the rest of you. Arsène?” 

His Shadow takes a step forward, and it feels like they’re falling, further and further; who knows how far; who knows where they would go, who knows where or how this journey would end? But there was only one way to know the ending.

Awakening to your Persona, accepting your “true self”--is a transformation that cannot be explained with words. The feelings of pain, of freedom, of fear would not be done justice with mere words.

The shackles that tie your heart down break, crumbling into thousands upon thousands of pieces. Your rebellious heart awakens, and the world changes form. Perhaps, the latter is a mere trick of the light, but indeed, you see the world differently.

As poets say, when they describe something such as falling in love--the world, once black and white, becomes filled with colors of every single shade. Indescribable. Beautiful, breathtaking… You wonder how you had lived in such a dreary world for all of your life, how you could have been content with such trifle.  

Tell me, my other self. Though you had faced the cruelty of the world, as well you had seen the joy, in the light. And then, you had been plunged into darkness.

Awakening to your Persona, accepting your “true self”--the shackles that tie down both you and I broke, into thousands upon thousands of shards, that even the likes of Arsène Lupin could not have found! Now, tell me, my dearest Trickster… My partner in crime, my other self…

How did you fare, when our bond had been broken, destroyed by the chains that we had scoffed at so boisterously? Did you not lose yourself, drowned in the flames of Hell… a tragic and unjust end, for a thief such as yourself…

…or did our beloved Thieves catch our fall? 

“They did, Arsène.” Akira pulls Arsène close, cupping his face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “They did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. You must’ve been terrified.” 

“I--” and his voice cracks. The rest of his composure follows, and Arsène Lupin breaks down in tears. “Young master, I had thought I would never see you again. All the while you were freezing--but I had tried, I did, I swear to you! I had brought forth every Persona and Shadow we had ever captured! I had used every ability I had and then some, and yet I could not shatter the ice. I could not free you, and you grew only further and further from me. I was… I was terrified. I had thought I would lose you forever, and without you, who am I? Who is Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar, a man with no face nor identity? Without you I am nothing, and I am terrified of the darkness; the emptiness that permeates. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone! And I--” 

He sounds so small. Fragile, delicate. He wraps his arms around Akira, squeezing him tightly, face buried in his shoulder as he sobs. Akira begins to cry, too; whether or not it was because they were one and the same, synonyms of the other, or out of sheer emotion and affection; none could say. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Arsène. I’m sorry for leaving you all alone.”

“I missed you…” 

Akira fervently nods his head, and laughs through his tears. “I missed you too. I missed you more.” 

“Come now,” Arsène laughs, still sobbing, “Don’t make this a competition; you know I’m loath to lose, young master.”

“Of course I know that. After all…” Just as Arsène had, over and over within the depths of his Palace, to Shadow and cognition alike, Akira leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I am thou…”

“And thou art I.” Arsène finishes, and the kiss left on his forehead erupts into a bright blue flame that swallows them both; the Phantom Thieves gasp and hold their breaths, but within the flame they can see the two of them, Shadow and self, separate yet one, wrap their arms around the other. Steel grey looks into shimmering gold, and emerging from the flame like a phoenix comes not two but one, not Akira, not Arsène, but the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Heart, Joker. 

He steps out of the flame with a smile on his face; one equal parts genuine and pretend; that was who he was, in the end, always wearing a mask, always hiding; shifting from one shadow to the other. It was never about becoming someone good enough for his friends, for his town, for his family; it was about being accepted regardless of who he was, and not caring when someone who didn’t matter didn’t accept him; what did they know, anyways? He needed to change, that much was true; he needed to let them in, but the Phantom Thieves of Heart too needed to understand that their leader, their beloved leader, hid behind masks. 

After all, what thief could deny the thrill of the chase? The desire to uncover what was hidden? When all was said and done, their greed was limitless, and their love for each other was eternal. 

Breathless, smiling, with tears in their eyes, they all rush towards their leader, leaping on him and collapsing into one big heap. A chorus of laughter and tears emerged from the thief-lump, but above all they cried out, “Welcome back, Leader!” 

And with a wide, real smile on his face, mask pushed up, true form on display, Joker, Arsène, Akira Kurusu replied: “Thanks, guys. I’m back.”