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For the first time in probably three or four years, Rise opened her eyes before her alarm went off. It was a refreshing change of pace – the first of many this morning. First was the fact that she felt completely energized, even on only four hours of sleep. Next, Sarutahiko Coffee put her favorite honey latte back on their menu overnight with no warning, so she had an extra little treat to start the day with. Then practice for the stadium tour had gone completely smoothly even with the new choreography, and so had the afternoon shoot for the music video. Finally on her way home, Rise received word from her manager that the stadium in Odaiba would be ready to tour on Friday after all, despite their management’s previous belief that construction wouldn’t be far enough along to let her check it out anytime soon.
Her most recent album, Sapphire, had been a massive hit, bigger than she’d ever seen or anyone had expected. As a result the scope of the tour had been grossly expanded in the final stages of planning, which had dumped a lot of extra work and stress onto Rise’s plate in the last couple months. She was worried about the schedule, she was worried about the pressure, she was worried about aggravating the ankle injury she'd acquired last year.
People kept telling her this was the moment she’d been waiting for, the kind of success most artists could only dream of, the top of the mountain. And so young! they always said. That part was starting to aggravate Rise. She’d always envisioned accomplishment as coming with some sort of relief from the grind; so far it seemed like things had only become more grueling. Twenty-one years old and she was beginning to feel twice that.
But maybe it had just been a slump. She was feeling so much better this week. Things were going so much more smoothly. Things really seemed to be looking up. Even her ankle wasn’t bothering her anymore.
2017 was shaping up to be her year after all.
***
She realized it was all too good to be true during the stadium tour. Things were great on the surface, of course: the executives were friendly and enthusiastic, construction was fully complete and internal finishings were proceeding ahead of schedule, and she got to step onto the floor where the stage would be set up in a couple months’ time. The scale was breathtaking.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t ignore the familiar skull-itch sensation that told her Kanzeon sensed something wrong in the world. And if Kanzeon was on such high alert in broad daylight in a bustling Odaiba business center, the membrane between worlds must have been extremely thin here. Porous. Dangerous.
She excused herself to the restroom and called Kanzeon to her in full. She hadn’t really had cause to try to do this in the human world since she’d been initially trained a few years ago, but it only took a couple minutes’ meditation to find the power within herself. Rise’s vision filtered purple as Kanzeon’s red visor absorbed the blue light emitted from the Sea of Souls upon her summoning. Normally this was the most comforting feeling Rise ever experienced – being enveloped by a blanket of her own most intimate self as it filtered all the world’s information into something she could understand intrinsically.
Rise thought she’d be looking for the kind of thing she always felt: a localized disturbance in the Metaverse. Small shadow nests weren’t uncommon in Tokyo, so it would be a simple matter to call it in and move on once she’d confirmed its presence.
This time didn’t feel that way, though. There was something wrong with the stadium, that much was obvious. But Kanzeon’s comforting presence couldn’t shield her from everything else. It felt like there was a film over the entire world. Hazy and sweet and intoxicating, like honey-spiced umeshu. The sensation was tangible, like Rise would be able to touch it if she only reached out her hand. Like it would sting her lungs if she breathed it in too deeply. She felt dizzy.
Maybe she dismissed Kanzeon or maybe she couldn’t hold her presence properly, but Rise suddenly felt very alone in the bathroom. Her legs wobbled and she braced herself against the sink. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so nauseous after a simple scan. The scale of the corruption was unbelievable.
Rise looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw the version of herself that she’d forgotten about so quickly over the last week: exhausted, worried, stressed. Now frightened too. As soon as she’d been made aware of what was happening the veil had lifted.
What had caused this? How far did it spread? At least as far as Tokyo itself, but maybe even beyond. Was it tied to the stadium?
She had to call Kirijo. It was the only thing she could think to do.
***
The call hadn’t gone well. The primary SRU office was in Tokyo too, and it became immediately clear that Rise was the only person so far to escape from the effects of– of whatever was happening. She’d spoken to Kirijo personally and been met with soothing platitudes: I assure you that if such a wide-scale incident had occurred it would not have escaped our notice and Need I remind you that Yamagishi is a more experienced Navigator than you are, Kujikawa, and she’s detected no such disturbances and worst of all Are you certain the stress of your job isn’t interfering with your Persona’s abilities? It’s known to happen. Try to get some rest and relaxation.
To say nothing of the fact that Yamagishi’s skill set had always leaned toward interpersonal readings and Rise had always been the better environmental navigator between the two of them. Or that she hadn’t even noticed anything wrong herself until she’d been directly within the locus of the problem.
But it didn’t matter – clearly the SRU wouldn’t be any help. Which meant… what? Half her friends were reserve members already. Yu worked there full time. Naoto was out of the country. Who was she supposed to go to?
And it wasn’t like she could abandon her actual job either. Hundreds of people’s incomes depended on her showing up and doing the work every day to make sure this concert and this tour and this music video all went smoothly. So for now, even though it made her sick to her stomach to do nothing about the pall over the world, all Rise could do was keep quiet do what was expected of her.
***
It was the first day back after the weekend. Rise hated this new world. It was uncanny to be the only real person. Everyone else felt like a watered down imitation of themselves, glassy-eyed and relaxed at the expense of any real character. All the friction had been sanded away from everyday life. It wasn’t enough to be overtly disturbing, but the smoothness of every interaction and every moment added up into the feeling that life was fundamentally unnatural now. And no one else could tell.
Sometimes it became too much. Rise found herself taking increasingly frequent breaks whenever possible, even during rehearsals or practices. Even though they were actively filming the music video now and a month ago holding up production like this would have been unthinkable to her, nobody cared anymore. They were all happy to go with it.
That was how Rise ended up retreating to the most out of the way bathroom in the studio during an impromptu lunch break. There she encountered the most wonderful sound she’d heard in three weeks: someone was crying in one of the stalls.
Rise didn’t even announce herself; she walked to the end of the room and pushed open the unlocked stall door. It was a girl. She looked old for her age but Rise had seen plenty of her type over the years – she couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old. She was white, which was interesting, and the thick blonde hair falling around her shoulders looked natural. Her clothes were glamorous. Rise vaguely recognized her as one of the background models for this scene on the music video.
The girl’s eyes went round and wide when Rise barged in on her. “Oh my god,” she hiccuped, already trying to shove her way past Rise and out of the bathroom. “I’m so sorry Kujikawa-san, I’ll be cleaned up by the time–”
“Wait,” Rise called. The girl stopped in her tracks, hand stretched out halfway to the door. “You’re upset.”
“No, I–” the girl sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I’ll get it together. I won’t be a problem.”
“No, what I meant was…” Rise didn’t know how to broach the topic, but she’d never been a girl with much grace or tact. “I was pretty sure nobody else could do that anymore. Cry, I mean.”
The girl froze. Her wide eyes, red from the tears, glinted with something – not fear, but close to it. “You mean… you…?”
Rise narrowed her eyes. “You know something is wrong, don’t you?”
“Wrong with what?” the girl asked, her voice small.
“Everything,” Rise said.
A short silence grew between them. Then the girl breathed, “Yeah. I do.”
“We should probably talk after the shoot.”
***
The girl’s name was Takamaki Ann. She was a student as Rise had expected, which explained why Rise wasn’t familiar with her – underaged workers would have limitations on working hours, so she was probably only contracted for the one scene on the video. They hadn’t talked about the specifics of that. Or anything.
Rise had found Takamaki after shooting wrapped for the day and asked her if she wanted to talk over dinner. Takamaki had been quiet in accepting the offer, she’d been quiet on the car ride over, and she was quiet now, staring out the window when she should have been looking over the menu.
Not that Rise could blame her: the restaurant was on the 30th floor of the Grand Nikko hotel and offered a floor-to-ceiling view of Tokyo bay. Odaiba was a bustling little island at night, all glittering lights that lit up the waves. It was a stunning view.
But they had things to discuss.
“You know what you’re going to order?” Rise asked.
Takamaki jumped like she’d been zapped with an electric shock and turned her attention back to the table. She looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, Kujikawa-san! I’ve never been somewhere this fancy before.”
“Huh.” Rise glanced around the room, with its decade-old carpet job and relatively plain décor. She wouldn’t expect to spend more than twenty-five or thirty thousand yen per person here tonight. But for a normal kid doing part-time modeling in the evenings, that was a fortune, wasn’t it? “When did I get so rich?” she muttered.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing.” She’d always been a bit careless, at least. It was a little irritating to realize that hadn’t changed much over the years. But it wouldn’t do to frown at the kid, so Rise put on her Greeting Sick Fans Smile instead. It was less vibrant than the normal one. “What’s the fanciest place you’ve been to, then?”
“Uh, in Tokyo? Probably that buffet at the Wilton in Shinjuku,” Takamaki admitted, maybe a bit bashfully. Her face had definitely gone a little red, which, like, shit. That’s the opposite of what Rise had been trying to do. She must be intimidating the poor thing. Rise needed to fix this.
“I’ve been there! It’s nice! It sucks that they’re so strict about the time limits.”
Takamaki perked up at that. “Well it’s all about being strategic with your plate space! If you make fewer trips then you spend more time eating!”
“Oh?”
“Yeah yeah yeah.” Takamaki nodded smugly to herself and put both hands on the table. “When we went, I only went back to the buffet twice but I was so stuffed I had to stop eating before I managed to get through the dessert table, and I felt sick for the rest of the day!”
Rise smiled confusedly. “You say that like you’re proud of it.”
The girl shrugged. “Well. Y’know.”
At that moment they were interrupted by their server, a quiet man older than either of them. Takamaki had been clearly nervous to order drinks in his presence but he was more than happy to bring her a non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiri; it even came with a little umbrella. Rise had impressed Takamaki with her knowledge of French wines with her own order, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell her that she just asked for the same handful of drinks whenever she planned to get seafood anywhere.
“And for food, ladies?” the server mumbled.
Takamaki shot straight up in her seat. “Ohmygosh, I haven’t looked at the menu at all! I’m so sorry!”
Rise waved her hand. “You’re fine, Takamaki. You like fish?”
“Yeah?”
“She’ll have the grilled cod, I’ll have the red bream. Easy peasy.” Rise hit the server with a dazzling smile. Once he was gone she turned back to Takamaki. “That sounds okay? It comes with like a butter-soy sauce? We can always swap plates if you’re not into it.”
“No, that’ll be fine,” Takamaki says. She picked up her drink and took a long sip, clearly savoring it. Then, quietly, she said, “This is really good.”
All the good humor they’d been building up vanished instantly, and it made sense. Rise didn’t know what this girl was going through. If it was anything like the year she woke up to her own powers, well. It made sense.
“Takamaki.” The girl looked at her. Her eyes were big and expressive – Rise was sure it must be hard for this kid to hide her feelings and she felt a pang of sympathy for her. “Are you okay?”
Tears welled in Takamaki’s eyes. “No. Everything is really hard right now.”
Rise nodded. She thought about whether she should pull the trigger. She was pretty sure she should. And if she was wrong and this was just a fluke, it would just be some nonsense to Takamaki’s ears anyway. Rise could talk around it if she needed to. Yeah.
God. This wasn’t supposed to be her job. There were people for this. But those people were dicking around in Shibuya pretending nothing was wrong. Or being brainwashed or whatever. Whatever.
“Is it… because of Persona stuff?”
Takamaki visibly tensed. Her eyes widened and her brows furrowed. She was suspicious now, Rise could tell. Better be careful.
“I don’t know what that is,” Takamaki said slowly.
And Rise couldn’t help it: a little giggling snort escaped her.
“Hey!” Takamaki injected. “What’s that for!”
“You’re a terrible liar, Takamaki-san,” Rise said through the hand she’d covered her mouth with. “That was such a suspicious response to my question. Nobody would believe you for a second.”
Takamaki folded her arms defiantly. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Please,” Rise snorted. She took a sip of her wine. “It’s okay. I have a Persona too.”
“Wait, you do?” Takamaki said before she could catch herself. “I mean, what do you mean? By, uh… by that.”
“Her name is Kanzeon and I’ve had her since I was fifteen when I got kidnapped and thrown into another world by a really sick man.”
Something serious washed over Takamaki’s face. “Are… were you okay?”
Rise shrugged and one of her hands drifted unconsciously to her shoulder. “I mean, yeah. I turned out okay. I had good friends looking out for me. That was how we met.”
Takamaki averted her eyes. “Yeah. That’s...kind of how it went for me, too.”
“You, um,” Rise began. It wasn’t like her to hesitate, but this sort of thing felt taboo to talk about with strangers. It was weird. She’d had so little contact with people outside her own little group. She didn’t even get called in for Shadow Ops work all that often, and when she did it was only ever to support Yamagishi. “You’re one of the Phantom Thieves, right?”
“Yeah,” Takamaki nodded. She only trembled a little. “I guess if you have a Persona it’s easy to tell, huh?”
“It’s just the thing that makes sense, I guess, yeah.” Takamaki didn’t say anything to that, so Rise continued. “Do you know what’s going on? Why everyone’s like this?”
Again Takamaki didn’t speak. She looked at the tablecloth. Rise didn’t know what she was doing wrong.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“What? No!” Takamaki’s eyes widened nervously and then she slumped in her seat. “Or, yeah. Maybe a little. Sorry.”
Rise crossed her arms. “Don’t worry about me being your boss. I mean I don’t think I’m even technically your actual boss. I’m like your boss’ boss. Or wait, maybe that’s worse.”
“It’s not that,” Takamaki said. “I’m just not used to… we don’t really go around confiding in adults, usually.”
Rise felt her mouth fall open in offense. Like okay first of all Rise was young at heart. And secondly she’d spoken with Takamaki’s agency rep and Rise was basically they same age as Takamaki compared to how old that guy was. AND ALSO–
God, this kid looked scared. And maybe not so much older than her age after all. Shit shit shit.
“How old are you exactly, Takamaki?”
“Uh, seventeen.”
Godddd. Seventeen. It was crazy how much younger seventeen looked than fifteen and sixteen had felt for her at the time. Now at twenty-one Rise barely felt like an adult herself, but Takamaki just felt so… childish. She shouldn’t be dealing with this. Rise probably shouldn’t have had to deal with what her friends had been through. None of them should have.
Thoughts for another time.
“I promise I’m not… I don’t know. Gonna hurt you?”
Takamaki laughed, a chuckle at first that turned into a guffaw and went long enough that people at other tables started to look at them. It was maybe the first time Rise was glad everybody was so weird and chill now, that when Takamaki calmed down the other patrons just went back to ignoring them.
“What?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Takamaki said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “It’s just, I’ve been hurt by so many adults, and– and other persona users, and celebrities even. It’s just so crazy that you’re all three at once and you’re Risette! Isn’t that crazy?”
“I mean…” Rise tapped her cheek with her finger. “Sorry, I’m not sure I really follow you here.”
Takamaki shook her head. “I think I’m the crazy one. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Hey,” Rise asks. “Why were you crying in the bathroom?”
Whatever was left of the smile on Takamaki’s lips vanished. “That was… it was nothing. Work stress.”
“Girl, you’re a bad liar.”
“That’s what I hear.” Takamaki sighed and glanced out the window. Rise realized now what she was actually looking at: the outline of the stadium in the skyline inside the bay. “The person who made the world like this is named Maruki. He’s the therapist at my school and he’s some kind of scientist. Like a researcher, or something. I don’t really get it.”
The revelation seeped through Rise from the top down, shivery and disquieting. “A man did this? Like, a human? All of this?”
“Uh-huh.” Takamaki shrugged. “He’s like, super powerful but I think he’s just a Persona guy like us.”
“That’s… really scary.”
“Yeah.” Takamaki picked up her drink, nearly forgotten til now, and sipped. “We’re going after him at the end of the month and I guess I just feel really bad about it.”
“Why?” Rise squinted at her. “This is all insane and messed up. It’s horrible!”
“I know, I know.” Redness crept across Takamaki’s cheeks. “There’s just… this girl.”
“Oh.” Rise braced herself for whatever insane thing this kid was about to tell her about getting a girlfriend because of the brainwashing epidemic. She’d have to talk her out of it somehow.
“She’s my best friend, and… something really horrible happened to us this year. Like really, really bad. Everything is different now, forever, and it’s my fault that she’s never gonna get to… get to pursue her dreams the way she wanted to. Or like, at all, I guess.” Takamaki’s eyes welled up. Her knuckles white on her highball glass. “I mean, it’s not my fault. I keep saying it is in my head but I know it’s not, it’s his fault but it doesn’t… it feels like my fault and it doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn’t matter. Everything is different now. But…”
“But now it’s better,” Rise finished.
“Yeah.” Takamaki swallowed her tears. “It’s like none of it ever happened. And I know, if everything goes well, we’re going to have to take it all away from her again. And that just… kills me.”
“God. You poor thing.” It was the only thing Rise could think to say. Even without details, the enormity of Takamaki’s problems was staggering. She felt like a real asshole for assuming this was normal teenager stuff. She should probably know by now that teenagers with just normal problems didn’t end up with Personas.
“Do you think she’ll remember?” Takamaki asked. “This month?”
“I don’t know,” Rise admitted. “I haven’t been able to wake anyone up, even other Persona users.”
“Yeah,” Takamaki said. She sounded so defeated.
“Look, Takamaki.”
Rise paused, unsure of how to put her thoughts to words. She was used to leading concerts and sets – if you could call being the face of things a type of leading. This felt like it mattered more. It asked for a different kind of authenticity. Rise thought she’d done such a good job of discarding her masks, but maybe she’s just figured out how to blend better with a world that didn’t ask all that much of her.
She wished Yu was here. But he wasn’t. Just her. So she had to figure it out.
“You don’t have to tell me everything. I get that we don’t know each other. But I spent a really long time from a really young age not feeling like I was able to…” Rise clenched and unclenched her fist in the air. “A fake life isn’t worth living, even if it’s a good one.”
Takamaki takes a breath. “Even if it’s the life she wants?”
“I think what she would want the most is to have her agency back, even if life was harder for it.”
It wasn’t clear to Rise what Takamaki was thinking, sitting there chewing on her straw. Her phone buzzed and she took a moment to respond to the message.
“Y’know, I… can’t talk to the others about this.” Takamaki sounded pained, and that much Rise understood completely. She couldn’t imagine having to hide her feelings from the people she could normally trust with her private self. How lonely that must be. “We only do things unanimously, and we all agreed we need to do this. And I know we need to do this. I know what’s right. I just feel so, so bad anyway.”
Rise pursed her lips, thinking. She clapped her hands together. “Okay, no more moping.”
Takamaki frowned at her. “Huh?”
“Or, no more moping alone.” Rise held her own phone out to the girl. “We’re gonna exchange contact info, and from now on if you ever feel really fucked up about this or anything else you can talk to me about it.”
Now Takamaki looked like she’d been told she had to run a marathon barefoot. “What?”
“I know I’m probably not the best fit for, like, understanding exactly what you’re going through,” Rise said only a little defensively. “But I’m the best you’ve got right now. You don’t deserve to go through this alone, Takamaki.”
“I don’t think I–”
“Plus,” Rise stuck a finger into the air. “I can teach you how to get better at acting. Because, like, woof dot com.”
Takamaki wrinkled her nose at that but she smiled too. The first one that felt honest in a while. “Okay. Thank you, Kujikawa-san.”
“I wish I could do more,” Rise said, and she meant it. But for now, this would have to be enough. It could be a start, maybe.
Their food arrived, and they ate in comfortable quiet.