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"Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams..."
—The Garden of Proserpine by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Months had passed, but LeBlanc was just as Gorou remembered it. The scent of coffee beans and turmeric hung in the air, a more palpable presence than that of the lights hidden under rainbow-colored glass sconces. A cadre of office workers huddled together over the menu’s cheapest drinks at the furthest booth, while a retiree leaned over the front counter to chat with Akira.
No, not Akira. The hair wasn’t dark enough, and it was longer and straighter than his had ever been.
Since when did Mr. Sakura hire new help?
Gorou pulled his baseball cap low over his face--it was absolutely hideous, but combined with the fake glasses (thanks for the idea, Kurusu!) it made him much harder to recognize. An unfortunate necessity, as Japan’s criminal justice system was unlikely to take any of his circumstances into account should he be found and arrested.
He probably should have contacted Kurusu and his friends as soon as Maruki’s Palace fell. He’d resolved to turn himself in when he found that he was alive, as a way of obtaining Kurusu’s freedom--but he had returned to life with significantly more of the injuries from Shidou’s Palace than he would’ve preferred.
He’d made it to one of the Nippon Kakekomidera shelters that he remembered his mother taking him to, once, and had at that point passed out. When he’d woken, the staff had already checked him into a hospital under an obvious false identity. He’d actually tried to get them to contact the Tokyo Police on his behalf several times, but they’d been under the impression he was delusional, and his behavior at the time had perhaps added to that impression. By the time that Gorou had the ability to force the issue, Kurusu was already out of detention, all the charges against him dropped.
In retrospect, Gorou had perhaps not taken the fact that his planned grand gesture of apology was off the table very well. His resultant breakdown had earned him a few more weeks of hospitalization. Fortunately, it was also the impetus for his care to be transferred to a doctor who was a little more cautious in prescribing heavy-duty antipsychotics.
So now Goro, under the name Matsumoto Yukito, had a dedicated social worker, physical and mental health therapists, and several new medications. He imagined Kurusu would be pleased, even if the process of getting to this point had not been pleasant.
Except, of course, that the stranger at the counter was the only worker present. Kurusu was nowhere to be seen.
They were near his and Kurusu’s age, male-presenting, and not dressed in any of the local school uniforms. Then again, at this point, most of Goro’s agemates were either first years in university or working adults, so maybe that wasn’t particularly odd.
He approached the counter cautiously. “Ah, excuse me, do you know a person who used to work here named Kurusu?”
“One minute,” the stranger said. He poured some coffee beans into one of the grinders, turned it on, and hummed a bit to himself as the machine’s sound filled the cafe. Once it fell silent again, the stranger turned back to Goro.
“Yes, I know him,” he said. “Are you a friend?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but we do know each other,” Gorou said.
The stranger’s eyes narrowed, and Gorou felt a sudden chill race up his spine, along with an intense certitude that he was being examined in some way. It almost reminded him of the feeling of Sakura using Mementos Scan in the Metaverse, but this person wasn’t one of the Phantom Thieves--
Of course, Gorou had been gone for a year, and Kurusu was extremely adept at gathering allies to himself. Perhaps this person was a new member?
“Kurusu isn’t working here right now, but he is in the neighborhood,” the stranger said. “I can text him. But who should I tell him is looking for him?”
Gorou wasn’t exactly eager to provide his full legal name in a public space. “Perhaps you could tell him that Crow is here?”
“Kurou?” the stranger echoed.
“Like the bird,” Gorou clarified. “I’m going by a different name than the one he’d recognize right now. But he’ll know that nickname.”
“I see,” the stranger said, pulling out his phone. He texted very slowly for someone their age, and the bulky fall-proof case he used was the same brand that the younger Sakura bought for her guardian. Interesting.
“May I wait at the counter?” Gorou asked.
“Do what you’d like,” the stranger dismissed.
Gorou eased himself onto one of the chairs. The tall, stiff backs had been significantly more comfortable before he’d been shot, but not having to stand any longer was more than worth it.
The stranger set a cup of coffee in front of him.
“I didn’t--”
“Consider it as on the house,” the stranger said.
A year ago, Gorou would have assumed there was an agenda at work, and that this coffee would have a cost down the line. But he was working on not assuming that every person he interacted was looking to hurt him, specifically, and surely anyone Sakura hired would have been vetted extensively by his ward.
The stranger’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it. “Kurusu is on his way,” he said. “He seems surprised to hear from you?”
“I wasn’t expecting to see him again, last time we met,” Gorou said, trying to keep the weight out of the words.
Judging by the stranger’s expression, he’d failed. “I see,” the man said. “Well, I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to meet you, then.”
“Are you one of Kurusu’s friends?” Gorou asked, before the man could say anything else intensely personal.
“We’re not especially close, but yes,” the man said. “Arisato Minato. What can I call you?”
Gorou appreciated the phrasing of the question. “Matsumoto, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Arisato said.
The door to the cafe slammed open. Kurusu stood in the doorway, face red with exertion and chest heaving. A bag of groceries hung off of his arm. His eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Oh, so it’s like that,” Arisato said quietly.
“Like what?” Gorou said suspiciously.
And then Kurusu was grabbing his face with his hands, twisting it one direction and another.
Gorou recoiled. “Get off me, you--”
“You’re alive,” Kurusu gasped.
“Yes, and I’m sorry for not contacting you earlier--” Gorou started.
“Oh, I’m definitely gonna be pissed off about that later,” Kurusu said. “For now I’m just relieved.”
“Let go of my face,” Gorou said.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Kurusu repeated. “This isn’t, like, a Maruki thing?”
“Not to the best of my knowledge,” Gorou said. “I’ve been reluctant to reach out to him and check, however.”
Kurusu grimaced.
Arisato was watching them with a complicated expression that seemed closer to recognition than anything.
“I’m not going to disappear again,” Gorou said. “Now sit down and stop drawing attention.”
It was always a little gratifying when Kurusu actually followed his orders.
Gorou’s second encounter with Arisato Minato came a few weeks later. Gorou had tried to avoid LeBlanc as much as possible, to give the Sakuras and the Phantom Thieves both space, but Kurusu insisted that he wanted to meet at the cafe and Gorou hadn’t felt like he could argue without coming off as presumptuous.
Gorou got there early, and greeted Arisato as he sat down.
“Kurusu told me your coffee order,” he said. “Anything else for you?”
“Not today, thank you,” Gorou said.
A few minutes later, Gorou had his coffee and was sipping it when Kurusu texted.
Running late, be there in 5! The message read.
“I bet that professor of his made them stay past the end of class again,” Gorou muttered.
“Probably,” Arisato agreed.
“I was talking to myself,” Akechi snapped.
The corner of Arisato’s mouth tipped upwards.
“Didn’t Kurusu’s friends warn you not to piss me off?” Akechi muttered.
“Don’t worry, Miss Sakura made sure that I knew everything about you, because she was ‘worried you’d take advantage of my good nature and then stab me in the back’--her words,” Arisato said, still lightly amused. “But if Kurusu is spending time around you, he doesn’t think you’re that dangerous.”
“Did she leave out the part of our interactions during which he knew I was planning his murder and he still spent time with me?”
“No, she did mention that,” Arisato said.
“Then why aren’t you avoiding me like the rest of them?”
“I’m the only one working right now; I can’t just ignore a customer,” Arisato said.
Gorou shot him a look, and Arisato held up his hands.
“I think there’s a reason that you have a second chance,” Arisato said.
“Surely you don’t think I deserve it more than the dozens of innocent people that Shidou killed.”
“Not especially,” Minato said. “That doesn’t mean there’s not a reason for it.”
“I’m sure Okamura would love to hear that perspective,” Gorou drawled.
“Probably not,” Arisato agreed. “But I’m not saying it to her, am I?”
Gorou looked away.
“You aren’t the first person I’ve known who’s made mistakes,” Arisato said.
Lowering his voice, Gorou said, “Willfully committed crimes aren’t mistakes.”
“You aren’t the only person I know who tried to kill someone in the process of getting revenge, then,” Arisato said, at normal volume.
“Keep it down!”
“No one’s listening,” Arisato said.
“Humor me,” Gorou snapped.
“Admittedly, you went much farther with it than the person I’m thinking of, but he had a lot more people to lean on than I think you ever did,” Arisato said.
Gorou grimaced.
“I’m not trying to prod,” Arisato said. “But you wanted to know why I’m not avoiding you, and my answer is that I don’t want to.”
“Because you think I need to be resocialized?” Gorou asked.
Arisato snorted. “Ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I’m the one being resocialized right now.”
That didn’t follow at all. Arisato wasn’t gregarious, but he seemed to be handling customer service better than anyone would expect of someone with social shortcomings.
“Is that so?” Gorou replied, at a loss for what else to say.
“Let me put it this way; I’m curious about you,” Arisato said. “You’re the curious type too, according to Kurusu. Isn’t that explanation enough?”
Gorou was preparing his response when Kurusu walked in, babbling apologies about his class that had indeed run long. By the time Gorou finished explaining in detail why he didn’t care to hear Kurusu apologize for someone else’s actions, Arisato was busy with a customer.
Gorou nodded to Arisato as he sat down at LeBlanc’s front counter, then did a double take at the man in his thirties with stark white hair seated a few chairs down. He was dressed head-to-toe in black and had clearly angled himself to have a good view of the front door. The last time Gorou had seen someone so obviously suspicious, it had been Sakamoto.
“Dont mind him,” Arisato said.
“Friend of yours?” the man asked. He sounded strangely hopeful.
“Acquaintance,” Arisato corrected. “You’ve got a picture of him in that file Futaba sent you.”
The stranger pulled out his phone as Arisato sighed.
“Acquaintance?” Gorou prodded.
“Don’t take it personally,” Arisato said. “If I tell Aki we’re friends, he’ll be weird about it.”
“I see,” Gorou lied. Then, the sentence fully registered. “..Aki?”
Arisato shrugged.
“Sanada Akihiko,” the man supplied. “You’re another of Kurusu’s friends?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Gorou said.
“So I see,” Sanada said. “You never had any dealings with the Kirijo Corporation, right?”
“If I had, Sakura would’ve mentioned it in this so-called file,” Gorou snapped.
“Ah, yeah, sorry,” Arisato said. “I should’ve thought about how that would come off. Aki’s a bodyguard, and since we know each other, I had Futaba send him information on the cafe regulars that might cause problems for his client. She was the one who decided to include you.”
That actually made Gorou feel a bit better.
“Yeah, I figured if Minato trusted you, you were fine, but I had to check, you know?” Sanada said. “‘S why Mitsuru pays me.”
“Correct,” said a tall, red-haired woman dressed in motorcycle leathers. The absence of furs meant that it took Gorou a moment to identify her as Kirijo Mitsuru, head of the Kirijo Corporation and one of few Japanese people whose wealth rivaled Shidou’s.
“I told you to wait outside ‘til I texted you,” Sanada complained.
“You were taking too long,” Kirijo countered.
“It’s for your safety!”
“Sure,” Kirijo said. “You getting extra time with Minato was just a side-effect.”
Sanada huffed but didn’t actually argue.
“Well, I hear that you’ve gotten better at making coffee,” Kirijo said to Arisato.
“That was once,” Arisato said, rolling his eyes.
“It was pretty memorable,” Sanada said.
“I’ve had those protein shakes you supposedly like,” Arisato said. “You don’t get to talk about drinks tasting bad.”
“You kinda get used to them after a while,” Sanada said.
“You mean your tastebuds die,” Kirijo said.
“If my tastebuds are dead, it’s Fuuka’s fault,” Sanada said.
“She was trying her best,” Arisato said.
“I know, but I really did have trouble tasting things for a few days after that incident with the cumin…”
The three of them continued to talk, casual as anything. None of them used a single honorific, and there was nothing in their register or word choice that reflected any difference in status or age between the conversants. At least once, Sanada cut himself off after a look from Arisato, and even Kirijo seemed to be letting him dictate the topic, rather than the other way around.
As a former detective, Gorou had to admit he was intrigued. Part of him wanted to listen in, and attempt to put the pieces together, until Arisato made just a bit more sense.
But Arisato had been far gentler to him than he deserved on the matter of his past, engaging with it only when Gorou himself brought it up.
So instead Gorou got out his phone and a pair of earbuds, and put on the medical podcast he’d been listening to recently. He’d put in his order after Arisato and…whatever these people were to him…were done catching up.
As Christmas neared, Gorou had gone back to avoiding LeBlanc, not out of any particular wariness but because it was increasingly hard to find anywhere to sit down. The cafe always did its best business in the winter.
But Kurusu worried (perhaps not without reason) that Gorou wasn’t eating well, and he’d been prodding at him to come to the cafe for a few days, so about a week before the holiday, Akechi agreed to sit down with him for curry.
Kurusu’s last class on Tuesdays was over around 3 in the afternoon, so Gorou had expected to see him waiting at the counter. Instead, he was behind it, wiping down glasses and looking distinctly harried.
“Shit, I knew I forgot something!” Kurusu exclaimed as he walked in. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sakura needed to pick up extra milk and creamer from the store, so I’m watching the front for now.”
“Seeing you behind the counter is nostalgic,” Gorou said. “But yes, I would have appreciated a heads-up.”
“Things have just been a little hectic over here, I swear I meant to text you--”
“I’m not going to hold a grudge, I promise,” Gorou said.
“You hold a grudge better than anyone I know,” Kurusu replied, not quite in an accusatory tone.
“Akira, is the ice pack re-frozen yet?” Ryuji asked, emerging from the stairs to what was once Kurusu’s room.
“Should be,” Kurusu said. “Thanks, man.”
“No prob,” Ryuji said, heading towards the freezer without even sparing a second to shoot Gorou a dirty look.
“Arisato’s not feeling well,” Kurusu clarified. “Telling him I’d take his shift was the only way to get him to stay in bed.”
“Won’t let us call a doctor, either,” Ryuji added.
“Do you need someone to buy medicine?” Gorou offered.
“Ann’s taking care of that,” Ryuji said. “Halfway decent of you to offer, though.”
“Thanks, I think,” Gorou replied.
Ryuji headed back upstairs without replying.
“Anyhow, I’m going to be working, so I can’t really eat with you like I said I would--” Kurusu started.
“That’s fine,” Gorou said. “I’ll eat at the bar and we can chat between customers.”
Kurusu smiled gratefully. “Thanks.”
Against his better judgement, Gorou returned to LeBlanc the next day. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t about checking up on Arisato, but if he was being honest, that was his primary motivation. Arisato wasn’t a friend, exactly. But he’d been kind to Gorou, without looking down on him or insisting on anything in return. That was enough to make him somewhat unique in Gorou’s experience.
The cafe wasn’t as full as it had been the previous day, but it was still quite crowded. Mr. Sakura himself was behind the counter, this time.
Steeling himself, he approached the bar.
“Akira’s busy tonight,” Mr. Sakura said.
“I actually wanted to ask about Arisato,” Gorou started. “Kurusu said he’s been sick?”
“Yeah, he’s under the weather, but he keeps insisting he’ll be fine if we just give him a few days to rest,” Mr. Sakura said.
“Unless you have legal guardianship of this one, too, you can’t exactly make him go to the doctor,” Gorou pointed out.
“Don’t remind me,” Mr. Sakura groaned.
Gorou’s phone rang. He slipped a hand into his pocket and hung up the call. Whatever it was could wait until he figured out whether Mr. Sakura was planning to physically throw him out of the cafe or not. A few seconds later, it rang again.
“I’m sorry, I need to check on this,” Gorou said.
Mr. Sakura waved him off. Gorou got out his phone, and was surprised to see Futaba’s contact information filling the screen.
He picked up the call.
“Get the fuck out of there,” Futaba spat. She sounded hoarse.
Gorou had been under the impression that she knew that he and Kurusu spent time together and was grudgingly accepting of it. That did not appear to be the case.
“I’ll go, I’ll go,” he said. “I just wanted to know how Arisato was.”
“He’ll be better off if you keep yourself and your stupid psychological issues far away from him,” Futaba snarled.
Gorou felt Mr. Sakura’s gaze on him.
“Gimme the phone, kid,” he said.
Gorou, too surprised to protest, handed it over.
“You were listening in again, weren’t you?” Mr. Sakura said. “I told you that sometimes when you spy on people, you’re gonna hear--” He broke off, and Gorou could hear Futaba yelling, though he couldn’t make out words. “It’s not that simple. Listen, all this stuff is over my head, but from what he said, it’s about everyone, not just you or Akechi.”
More yelling.
“Yeah, I know, kid,” Mr. Sakura said. “Listen, Akira’s supposed to be at the house in like ten minutes. You think you can hang in there until then?” He gave Futaba a moment to respond. “Good, good, I’m proud of you.”
This was all getting a good deal more personal than Gorou had expected. He tried not to feel resentful as father and daughter exchanged goodbyes and “I-love-yous.” Futaba had her own struggles, some of which were Gorou’s own fault, but he couldn’t help resenting the fact that she’d lost one caring parent and then found her way to yet another, the latter of which wasn’t even related to her.
Mr. Sakura handed back his phone. “Sorry about that; she’s having a rough night. You shouldn’t take any of what she said too seriously.”
“Shouldn’t I?” Gorou pressed.
“No, it wasn’t really about you--look, I don’t feel like trying to explain it, but if you wanna talk to Arisato, maybe he can,” Mr. Sakura said. “I’ve got some curry and an icepack that need to go up to him, anyway.”
“I wasn’t really--”
“It’s the least you could do,” Mr. Sakura said, tone a good deal firmer than it had been a few seconds ago.
Gorou didn’t bother with further protest. As he scaled the stairs to Arisato’s room, with a plate of curry in one hand and an icepack stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, he tried to remember if he’d been up the stairs more than once or twice while the space was still Akira’s. He didn’t think so. Admittedly, Akira had been keeping him at arm’s length for good reason, but it was still a little sad.
The room didn’t look much better than it had back then. Arisato had put up a shelving unit full of odds and ends and a poster of Feather Pink, but otherwise the place was pretty empty. Minato was in bed on his back, a few shades paler than normal, with at least two blankets tossed to the side and only a sheet actually covering him, despite the winter temperatures.
“I wasn’t aware you were a Featherman fan,” Gorou said.
“Nah, Yukari just gave me that and said she’d be sad if I didn’t put it up,” Minato said. “I’ve only watched a little bit of it? It’s good, but not really my taste.”
Takeba Yukari, Gorou recalled, was the name of Feather Pink’s actress. How did Arisato know these people?
“Mr. Sakura sent me upstairs with curry and an icepack,” Gorou said.
“Thanks,” Arisato said.
Gorou set the curry down on the bedside table, then held out the icepack to Arisato. Arisato accepted it with a hand that shook alarmingly, placed it on his chest, and then closed his eyes in relief.
“Mr. Sakura also said you’ve been refusing to go to the doctor,” Gorou said.
“No point in it,” Arisato said. “I know what this is and why it’s happening, but it’s not something a doctor will be able to treat.”
“And you’re certain about that?”
“Yes,” Arisato said.
“At the very least, that back-alley doctor of Akira’s would probably be willing to drug you into unconsciousness,” Gorou said. “That might be an improvement, at this point.”
Arisato made an unhappy sound. “Really would prefer not to be asleep right now.”
“If you say so,” Gorou said.
“Do you remember being dead?” Arisato asked.
Gorou froze. “I--what do you--did Akira--”
“I figured that much out when I saw how Kurusu reacted to you,” Arisato said. “So, do you remember?”
“That’s a really personal question--”
“I remember,” Arisato said.
“You--what?”
“I remember all of it, and it was like being asleep, if being asleep was painful and confusing and also lasted for years,” Arisato said. “I can’t tell anyone that, of course, because they’d cry about it and then I’d have to think of a way to cheer them up and it’s way too much work--”
“You were dead?” Gorou managed.
“More or less,” Arisato said. “Technically I was the seal on a door between two parts of the collective unconscious. I could explain it better if I wasn’t so tired.”
“I’m sorry, I’m really not following.”
“In 2010, someone needed to power a seal to keep Nyx and Erebus apart,” Arisato said.
“Nyx and Erebus?”
“Goddess of death and humanity’s collective desire for annihilation,” Arisato said.
“And that was you?”
“Yeah,” Arisato said. “Technically some of me’s still in the seal. And Erebus tends to get a little more active in the dead of winter. Seasonal depression, y’know.”
Gorou was going to need a little time to process all of that.
“I’m surprised no one told you,” Arisato said. “You hang out with Kurusu a lot, so I thought--wait, no, actually, Futaba and Ryuji are the ones who tell everyone things, and neither of them like you.”
“Not especially, no,” Gorou said.
“Sorry, I’m rambling, I’m, uh, kinda out of it right now,” Arisato said.
Gorou snorted.
“Go ahead and laugh, it’s funny,” Arisato said. “It’s kinda nice to talk with this about someone who doesn’t have all of the context--no offense, of course.”
“None taken,” Gorou said. “I can appreciate that sometimes it’s easier to talk about things with people who aren’t directly involved.”
“Yeah, exactly!” Arisato said.
“So, you died in 2010?” Gorou asked. “And came back when?”
“Earlier this year,” Arisato said.
Gorou blinked. “Is that why you have an old-person phone case?”
“Futaba said it was trendy,” Arisato said.
“She lied to your face,” Gorou said.
Arisato groaned.
“So is whatever’s making you sick also supernatural in nature?” Gorou asked.
“Pretty much!” Arisato said. “Like I said, Erebus is going at the Seal keeping her away from Nyx. Which still has some of me in it. Thus, ouch.”
“So you’re feeling physical pain as a result of…what did you call it?”
“Humanity’s collective desire for annihilation,” Arisato supplied.
Gorou had a sudden flash of clarity regarding why Futaba had nearly bitten his head off over the phone earlier. He’d had his own struggles with suicidal ideation, after all.
Arisato must’ve seen something on his face. “It’s not something that’s made better or worse by a single person. Don’t get into your head about it.”
“But--” It was difficult to articulate, but there was something different about knowing that someone apart from himself was being hurt physically by those thoughts. He knew, academically, that Kurusu was upset about the fact that he’d had them, but Kurusu also had his own struggles, and Gorou had always believed that he’d just mourn Gorou for a while and then move on. This felt more concrete, in a way that was hard to explain.
“It’s really not like that,” Arisato insisted.
“Don’t just say that for my benefit,” Gorou said tightly.
“Look--I’ve been there,” Arisato said. “When I met SEES--uh, the Persona users I worked with, I was incredibly depressed. They made me see that living could be something beautiful, even when it was painful.”
“And then you died to protect them,” Gorou said.
“And then I died to protect them,” Arisato agreed. “From what I hear, you did something pretty similar.”
“It was different,” Gorou said quickly. “I owed them, after everything--”
“They still survived because of something you did,” Arisato said. “It’s not…it doesn’t balance out anything you did wrong. But it did mean something. Hasn’t anyone told you that?”
Kurusu had, kind of, but he’d focused on how he’d really wished that Gorou hadn’t gotten himself killed in the process.
“They’ve said some things to that effect, I suppose,” Gorou said.
“Good,” Arisato said.
And then the rest of the conversation caught up with Gorou. “Wait. There are other Persona users?”
“They really don’t tell you anything, do they?” Arisato said, in a tone of slightly baffled sympathy.
“Well, to be fair, I did double-cross them repeatedly,” Gorou said.
Arisato snorted. “There’s a lot of Persona users,” he said. “The ones I know the most about are my group and yours, but there’s also a group out in the countryside and at least a few others running around from back when the Kirijo family was still doing experiments.”
“Is that why you were talking to Kirijo Mitsuru?” Gorou asked.
“Oh, no, that’s because she’s one of my teammates,” Arisato said.
“The Kirijo heiress? Really?”
“We went to the same high school!” Arisato said. “Actually, she knew about her Persona before I did.”
“You know her, you know Takeba Yukari…was your team just celebrities?”
“Nah, I think those two are the only ones who got famous,” Arisato said. “Akihiko does security for Mitsuru, and Junpei teaches high school. I think Fuuka might be kinda famous in programming circles?”
“So most of them have normal careers, at least.”
“Koromaru does apparently have like a million followers on…some social media website,” Arisato said. “But that’s not really that impressive.”
“It isn’t?”
“Koro’s a purebred Shiba and Ken takes good photos,” Arisato explained.
“He’s a dog?”
“Kurusu’s team had a cat on it, didn’t it?”
“Morgana isn’t actually a cat, though,” Gorou said.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot that part,” Arisato said. “Koromaru’s a real dog, he just awakened a Persona after his owner died.”
“I wasn’t aware animals could do that,” Gorou said.
“I don’t know of any other than Koromaru,” Arisato said.
“This is all quite fascinating,” Gorou said. “But if you need to rest, I don’t want to be the reason you aren’t doing so.”
“No, this is actually a good distraction,” Arisato said. “If you have the time to listen to me ramble, that is.”
“I’m free for the next few hours,” Gorou said. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Go for it,” Arisato said.
Gorou sat down in the desk chair as Arisato started explaining how he’d met the rest of his team back in 2008. A lot of the terms that Arisato was using were unfamiliar, but the shape of it wasn’t. A loner, transferring to a new school, only to be pulled into the supernatural. No wonder Kurusu was friends with him.
He asked questions periodically, letting Arisato ramble and veer off topic when he wanted to. Within an hour, Gorou had a fuller understanding of the Persona users in Japan, and Arisato was fast asleep and snoring lightly.
Gorou took the untouched curry with him when he went downstairs and waved to Mr. Sakura at the counter. The store had emptied out considerably, probably because it was now full dark, rather than simply dusk.
“Can you put this in the fridge?” he asked.
“He didn’t eat any?” Mr. Sakura asked, dismayed.
Gorou shook his head. “He did fall asleep though.”
“Well that’s something, at least,” Mr. Sakura said. “I don’t think he slept at all last night. Thanks, kid.”
Gorou handed him the curry and headed for the door.
“At least let me pack up a meal for you,” Mr. Sakura said.
Gorou turned back. “You don’t have to pretend to like me.”
“I don’t,” Mr. Sakura said. “But I can appreciate you helping Minato out.”
Gorou took a deep breath. The jealousy and resentment were still there, but he could ignore them for a few minutes.
“Okay, then, I’ll take something with me,” he said.