Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"But I don't know what I expected," Goro begins, voice dripping poison. "After all, in Maruki's reality, you all abandoned him the second you no longer needed a shoulder to cry on," he spits.

"That's not fair," whispers Sakura, tears forming in her eyes.

"Don't pretend you care! You're the guy who went and tried to kill him!" Sakamoto blares, taking a step closer to him. Behind him, Niijima places a soothing hand on Sakura's shoulder. Goro doesn't miss the way that her glare at him falters for a moment.

"All I'm saying," Goro says, tentative. He’s not scared of Sakamoto in the slightest, though him causing a scene would be an inconvenience. He looks right past him and directly at Niijima. "Is that I find it astonishing that Joker has formed a Palace, and it took me coming out of hiding for any of you to realise it. You all also have the Nav again, correct?"

Goro flicks his eyes towards Sakamoto, attempting to cajole him into moving out of the way. He gets the hint. Niijima shifts her hand on Sakura's shoulder to be less soothing, more protective. "That's right. A few weeks ago."

"A few weeks ago?" Goro parrots back, baffled. "Mine only showed up three days ago. What, pray tell, have you been doing in these past few weeks? Did you just see it and figure it would go away on its own?"

"We cannot exactly act again as phantom thieves without our leader," Kitagawa pipes up from his stool by the counter.

"Yeah," Takamaki agrees, scrunching up an empty snack bag and tucking it into her jacket pocket. "We got in contact with him and Mona about it right away, though."

"And what did he say?" He questions, his eyes not having left Niijima's. She, too, remains unwavering, her gaze nuclear.

"…That he'd wait and see if the Velvet Room contacted him, and that we should stand by for now," Niijima answers, and he can tell she knows exactly what he's about to say.

Ah, Goro thinks. He's lying to them.

"It's like you don't know him at all," he mutters. "He's just as much of a liar as I am."

Sakamoto narrows his eyes at him. "Whaddya mean?" He presses, having moved away and now leaning against the cushion of the booth next to him.

"He's saying that Akira probably doesn't have the Nav," Niijima finishes.

"What?" Sakura chirps, finally scraping her eyes from the floor. The way she looks at him makes him feel uneasy, like she's seeing through him.

"There's no probably. He doesn't have it." I know him, he almost says, but the words don't feel right on his tongue.

Takamaki leans further over the table across from him, elbows holding her head up. "I thought Persona users couldn't have a Palace. Did Maruki change that, or something?"

"Maruki was the exception. Nothing he did should've changed that rule," explains Sakura, her head hung low.

"So that means…"

"We don't know what it means," Niijima interjects, voice firm. "But we should try to get some answers from Akira first." The way she says it is in a foul mimicry of Kurusu's leader voice. He almost shudders. He'd always hated that voice.

And god, how boring this all would've been if Niijima had ended up the Phantom Thieves' leader instead of Kurusu.

"You do that," he says, irritated. He fixes his scarf properly and slides out of the booth in one smooth motion. "I'm going to get some more concrete answers. We've already waited too long."

"That's not—"

"Hey, wait!"

"Not a chance in hell," Niijima retaliates over the chorus of disagreement. She moves between him and the door.

"And how, exactly, do you intend to stop me?" He asks, putting on his prince voice and smile, just to piss her off.

She's unfazed. "If we're going in, we're going in together."

"Oh, please. Don't act like you want to include me in this. I have no interest in cooperating with your unanimous decision bullshit. I came here simply for intel, now if you'll excuse me."

"Hell no. Not on my watch." Sakamoto rounds in on him. "I won't let you touch him. You're probably one of the reasons he has a Palace in the first place!"

"Ryuji!" Takamaki shouts, as if he's not absolutely correct.

Goro scoffs. "Had I wanted to kill him, don't you think I would've simply done so—"

Sakura steps forward, hands balled into fists. Her entire form is shaking.

"What is your deal, Akechi? Why do you care?"

"I don't care. I just feel this is worth investigating—"

"You're so full of shit," she accuses, and she sounds just like her mother. "I'm not blind; I know how torn up Akira's been over you. How he grieved for you—I wanted to hate him for it; I didn't get why." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "But now you show up. What happened between you two?"

The room falls into a silence, suddenly feeling ten degrees colder.

"I'm not listening to this," Goro hisses. "Let me know what you decide, or don't, I don't care. Either way, you know where to find me."

He shoves right past Niijima and out of the café.

Futaba could leave it at that. This guy murdered her mother! Plus, he's been back ten minutes, and he's already made her cry! No one would hold it against her if she just said nope! Not doing that! Hate that guy!

But… She doesn't do that anymore. She doesn't run. Her brother has a Palace and is currently going through the exact same thing she was before he pulled her out of it.

So, there's really only one option here, isn’t there.

That doesn't mean she has to be happy about it, though.

"Uuurghh!" Futaba yells, stomping her foot. The room is still in a state of stunned silence from when Akechi stormed out about 30 seconds ago, so her little tantrum causes the others to jump out of their skins.

"Futaba, what's—"

"I'llberightback!" She sputters out, dashing out of Leblanc just as Akechi had. She nearly knocks Makoto over with how fast she's out of there. Whoops, now both of them need to apologise to her.

If I were Akechi, where would I be hiding? She thinks as she closes the door behind her. She double-checks that he's not in the laundromat—for some reason—that's when she realises that he's probably not hiding; he's probably just gone home, and bolts towards the train station.

She almost trips coming down the last few stairs, flailing her hands out uselessly. When she regains her footing, she looks up to see one dude sitting on the platform. He's wearing a face mask, has his hair in a tiny ponytail, and is looking at her like she just shot him in the face—wait, that's Akechi, isn't it.

He blinks at her slowly, and she remembers that she honestly didn't think she'd get this far.

"Are you just going to stand there out of breath, or…"

"You—!" She huffs out. God, he's such a dick. "You need to apologise to Makoto. For pushing her." She cringes at how lame she sounds.

Akechi stares at her for a long, excruciating moment. "…That's what you came here to tell me?"

"No, shut up, let me finish—" And he doesn't let her finish.

"I already told you, Sakura-san. I'm not interested in listening to you hash out whatever you think—"

"I told you to shut up!" She explodes, and wow, she's not shouted that loud at anyone before, ever. Go her!

Akechi's looking at her like she just shot him in the face again.

"I came here to tell you," she begins, taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts. "That I've had a Palace."

"…I am aware."

"So, I know what it's like. I know what Akira's going through right now. And… I agree with you that we've left it too long." Saying that part stings. She scuffs her boot on the ground.

Akechi pulls his mask down. "What are you getting at?"

"I don't want him to be going through that. If you're gonna do this… You'll have me as navigator." And there, point made. Futaba stands up a little taller.

At that, Akechi's eyes lighten a little, like it wasn't what he was expecting at all. Sucker. "You'll come with me without the rest of the Thieves?" He asks.

"Yep! I've decided that it's fine, because the Thieves are disbanded, and we don't have our leader anyway." For the record, she hadn't decided that. She decided it on the spot, just now.

"…I see," he replies, but it sort of sounds like he doesn't believe her… Or like he won't go along with it. She's not having that, so she holds out her hand.

"Give me your phone. I'm putting my number in."

Akechi presses his lips into a thin line, still trying to run. "…I don't have my phone with me."

“Ha ha, very funny. You're not getting out of this, gimme." She shakes her hand at him, but he makes no move to gimme, just stares at her with that stupid deer-in-headlights look on his face. Wasn't this guy a literal assassin? But he's scared of Futaba? "Oh my god. You're joking. You're joking!"

"Uh…"

She knows he's not joking, but she feels like she has to show her exasperation. Futaba slaps both her hands over her face and groans.

Whatever, screw it, new plan. "Okay! Here's what's going to happen! Tomorrow, you will meet me at Leblanc, and we'll try and figure out the Palace keywords, got it?" Futaba marvels at the fact that she managed to get that whole sentence out without stuttering. Go her! She's on two points now!

"Tomorrow?" Akechi sputters, making a very sour expression at her. It reminds her of when he ate the spicy takoyaki at the school festival.

"Yes! All your fault!" She points at his face. "Who doesn't keep their phone on them?"

"… You've backed me into a corner here," he grumbles. He sounds like a little kid. (He's what, three years older than her?)

"I don't care! Stay in your corner! And if you don't show up, I will just dig up where you live and show up there. Do not test me." He narrows his eyes at her, thinking on it, but seems to conclude that he should not underestimate her hacking skills, and Futaba can't help but feel a bit smug about that.

"Fine," he grits out. "What time?"

"Three thirty." She grins at him, and the new party member jingle from the RPG she's been playing recently sounds in her head. "Bring your phone!" She orders, then spins around to leave, bounding back up the Yongen-Jaya station stairs.

Goro wakes to a blue light in his vision before he even opens his eyes. To Hereward's presence thrumming in his mind, his gauntlets on his wrists, and an aching feeling. He has a very good idea of where he is. He feels something prodding at his cheek, the touch feather-light, and he finally makes the decision to open his eyes. He cranes his neck to the side and is met with the sight of a child's face, staring at him with big, golden doe eyes.

"You're…" He mumbles, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. He's seen this girl before, back in Maruki's reality—he cannot remember her name.

Goro sits up on the bed he awoke on, and the girl takes a step back, smoothing down her blue dress. "Hello again, Trickster. It has been quite some time." She gives him a tiny bow.  "My apologies for the somewhat rude awakening, you were taking quite a while to wake up," she explains, smiling at him. "I am Lavenza."

Lavenza. That was it.

Goro furrows his brow. "Trickster?"

Lavenza nods. "Someone who defies fate, possesses the power to change the world, and can wield multiple Personas." Her eyes turn mournful as she gazes behind him at the rest of the bed. "Usually, a different Trickster wakes up in this bed, but given his current… Predicament, the role has fallen to you."

He remembers, now. "This is the Velvet Room. I've been here before."

Something like recognition, perhaps pride, dances in her eyes. "That is correct. My master and I have tried to bring you here several times before, but we were unable to keep you here for long. And you never woke up."

Goro takes a moment to look at his surroundings, puzzled. "Why have you brought me here now?"

Lavenza flicks her eyes back to him, looking at him like she is seeing his very soul before her. Her eyes sparkle a little in the light. "I think you know."

"Right, Akira's Palace, but why me?"

She purses her lips, as if she's choosing her following words very carefully. "This Palace…" She begins, and she says the word Palace as if it's not quite the right word to use. "It is unlike anything we have ever encountered before. It could end up disturbing the balance between the Metaverse and reality. You, a Trickster, are the only person who can be called upon. It took quite some time to reach you."

"Is it a Palace?" Goro asks her.

"There is still much that we do not know. From where we are, we cannot see inside it. I would say that it both is and is not."

"Vague, much?" Goro scoffs, but Lavenza pays it no mind. Goro realises something. "You keep saying we, but you're the only person here."

"My master is… Elsewhere. That is all I can say." Her smile turns sad again. "When my Trickster was last here, my master and I told him that the bonds he'd forged meant he would never truly be alone, no matter which path he chose to walk. It seems, however, he has forgotten that fact." She sets her comically large book down and hops up to sit on the bed beside him. She looks Goro dead in the eyes. "I am truly sorry to spring this on you, but there is no other choice. You must help him remember."

Of course. Of course, this would fall on Goro's lap. He has a headache.

"I cannot keep you much longer; your time here is almost up." She places a small hand atop one of Goro's. "Go forth, make use of any bonds you may forge. Please, help him."

Goro stares at her hand atop his. "What if I'm not enough?" He asks, in a rare moment of weakness.

"You are." She gives his hand a light squeeze. "Sleep now, Trickster. I will see you again soon."

At three thirty in the afternoon the following day, Goro finds himself back in front of the door to Leblanc—unable to escape the damn café, no matter how hard he tries. The sign is flipped to 'closed', but the door gives way when he pushes to open it. The smell of coffee and curry floods his senses, and he tries his very best to ignore how much it gives him the feeling of home.

Sakura is already there, at one of the booths, wearing her Kosei uniform. She's not really sitting—more like hunched over the table, crouched down and balancing on her feet. If she hears the bell signifying his entrance, she does not react to it. Her phone lies flat on the table in front of her, and Goro identifies the familiar red interface of the Metanav.

Goro sneaks a glance behind the counter and is relieved to find that the café's owner is not present.

"Ahem," Goro sounds, announcing his presence in the least awkward way he can think of. Sakura's head shoots up so quickly that her glasses almost fly off her face.

"Wow, you showed up!" She exclaims in genuine surprise, shoving her glasses back onto her face properly.

Goro opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks down at the floor. "Well, you didn't give me much of a choice." He lifts his head back up to find Sakura staring at him with one eyebrow raised. "Can I sit?" He asks her, and he despises how small his voice sounds.

"Sure. Did you bring your phone?"

Goro steps into the booth opposite her, pulls his ancient-looking phone out of his pocket and places it on the table. Knowing she'd ask, he'd brought it with him this time.

"What the hell is this? Does the Nav even work on this thing?" She groans, snatching it up. "Oh my god, whatever." She then starts tapping away at it, putting her number in, no doubt. He doesn't bother to ask how she manages to get into his phone without knowing the password.

Goro focuses his attention on her phone, which is still out on the table with the Nav open. "You've started on the keywords?" He enquires. Admittedly, he'd only gotten as far as Kurusu Akira: Candidate found.

"Yup, been at it for a little while. Stuck on the distortion one." She slides his phone back to him and spins her own phone so it's right-side up before him.

"You figured out the place already?"

Sakura shakes her head. "Didn't need to. Was filled in already, for some reason. Look." She points at the 'place' input line on the app, and sure enough, something is already written there.

Kurusu Akira's Heart.

His own heart?

Goro brings his fingers to his lips. He's aware he has a Palace, then, is what he surmises that to mean. Before they can continue further, however, the bell jingles behind him. Sakura looks past him and smiles at whoever it is, which can't be good for Goro.

Despite his best interests, he turns around and locks eyes with Sakura Sojiro. The man's facial expressions shift from horrified to pissed off to confused.

Goro sort of wants to vomit, but what comes out instead is, "Hi, Boss."

He expects him to shout, to walk over and smack Goro across the face with one of the grocery bags he's holding, anything. What he does not expect is for him to give a deep sigh, point a finger at him, and simply say, "You're not getting any free coffee."

"Of… Of course," Goro utters, hesitantly turning back to face the younger Sakura. He meets her eyes, pleading desperately with his own for her to say something. She gives him a look, and he cannot begin to fathom what it means. He doesn't like it.

Sakura sighs, hopping down from her chair and out of the booth. "Hey, dad. Need a hand with those?" He watches her step towards him and take a couple of the bags out of his hands. His eyes remain locked firmly on Goro, and it burns.

"Futaba," he begins, carefully. "You gotta give me something here. What's going on?" He waves his hand at Goro as if he's not a person sitting there, but some kind of damage to the café. A stain on the booth seat. "This. Is this fine?"

"For now," she chirps in response, standing on her tiptoes, trying her very hardest to put some coffee beans on the highest shelf.

"For now—? Don't drop those, hand them to me. Here." He takes the jar from her and swaps it for a different bag of groceries. Goro stares at the table, digs his nails into his thighs. "Why is he here? I thought…" Sojiro trails off, and Goro can feel his eyes on the side of his head, like he's singeing a hole through his skull.

"It's real phantom thief hours," is all Sakura offers in explanation.

Goro wants to put a bullet in his brain.

"That doesn't help one bit."

Goro hears the fridge door shut. "I'll explain it to you later, promise. He's here, he won't kill me, I probably won't kill him. That fine?"

"That is not fine." He sounds like he's at his absolute limit, and Goro can't blame him. "You," he says, and Goro does his very best not to jump, tears his eyes away from the wood on the table to look at him. "You're not here to cause any trouble?" He asks, but it sounds like more of an instruction than a question.

"I… No."

Sojiro hums and looks towards his daughter. She nods, then he returns his attention to Goro. "The kid know you're alive?"

Goro digs his nails in harder. "No."

"Hmm…" That's all he gives in response. Something seems to dawn on him, and he narrows his eyes at Goro with scrutiny. And it's as if a spotlight has switched on above him, bright enough to burn.

Maybe Goro could make a break for it, stride past the man and right out the door just as he did yesterday. Maybe Futaba will decide that she's made a mistake in asking him to come here, scream at him, tell him you killed my mom, get out.

Maybe Sojiro will produce a rope from his pocket, place it on the table in front of him and ask him to hang himself from one of the ceiling beams.

No, that'd be bad for business.

Sojiro rummages in the pocket of his trousers and does not pull out a rope, but a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. "You're sure this is fine?" He asks his daughter, once again.

"Yes." Futaba has no business sounding that sure of herself. She's grown taller since he last saw her, Goro thinks.

Sojiro stares her down for a long time. Brings a cigarette to his lips and lights it. "Well, fine." He takes a long drag, sneaking a glance back at Goro. It doesn't last long, like he can't bear to look at him. "But whatever you're doing, go and do it upstairs. I have a café to run."

For the distortion keyword, they make a list.

One thing Goro knows about Kurusu Akira, is that most of the time, he keeps his true self locked away, with it only surfacing on certain occasions—ripping through shadows in the Metaverse, staring at gods down the barrel of a gun.

Staring at Goro, lips pulled into a thin line before shouting this isn't trivial.

It occurs to him, distantly, that perhaps none of his friends ever once saw Akira's true self during the year he spent in Tokyo. Or at least, they never noticed it.

Goro peers down at the notebook he'd brought with him, satisfied with the list he's come up with so far. Futaba made a few additions, but the majority of the scrawled out words on the page came from Goro's mind.

Futaba, bored of waiting, holds her hand out to him and flaps it a little. "Gimme."

Goro obliges.

"Let's see here," she starts, running a finger over the page. She must find an option she likes, as it doesn't take long before she's picking her phone up from the table and opening the Nav. She taps away at it, before holding it up to her face to speak into the microphone. "Prison."

Conditions have not been met.

That was one of her suggestions. Goro folds his arms, sits back on his chair. Futaba raises an eyebrow at him, indifferent.

"Ookay then," she huffs, reaching across the table to pick up the pen Goro had been using. She crosses the word off the list. "Tomb."

Conditions have not been met.

Another one of hers. "Yeah, that makes sense," she mutters. Goro doesn't know what to think about that.

"Are you going to try any of mine?" He asks.

Futaba frowns at him. "Some of these don't make any sense to me. Like, why would it be café?"

Conditions have not been met.

Goro scowls. He will admit, he hadn't been expecting anything from that one. "I was just throwing ideas out there. Why would it be tomb?"

"None of your business." She picks the notebook back up, sighs before reading out the next one. "Graveyard."

Conditions have not been met.

"Thank god." She crosses it off the list. "Would've been spooky."

Goro rolls his eyes. "It has to be one of them. Try another."

Futaba ignores him. "It would've been! I don't wanna go to a graveyard Palace!" She protests.

"Your Palace was a pyramid."

"Well yeah, but that's not as—wait. How do you know that?" She gapes at him. "You know what, nevermind." She lifts her phone to speak into it again, squints her eyes down at the page. "Vault?"

Input accepted. Searching for route to destination.

"Oh—" Futaba startles, as reality begins to shift. One of his. Goro smirks, slides the notebook across the table and circles the keyword.

For a long while, the only sounds between them are those of the oars slogging through gentle waves as Goro rows the boat, and the phantasmal, trademark warbles of the Metaverse. Of Akira's Palace, which, as he takes in the scenery around him, he can't bring himself to believe is Akira's Palace at all.

Goro had expected a great expanse of stars in the sky to show them where they needed to go. He had expected the waves of the ocean they are traversing to be relentless and unpredictable, to test them, make them believe it was smooth sailing one minute, then capsize them the next. Goro had expected this place to mirror the whirlwind of brilliance that he knows is Kurusu Akira.

But what he is met with instead is a wasteland. There are no stars in the sky. The waves are still, the water, he thinks, is black, and it doesn't even feel like water as he trudges his oars through it. It is treacle-thick and unnatural—it instead reminds him of the black ooze that would expel from Loki when he would use Call of Chaos.

Such murkiness as this does not belong anywhere near Akira's heart.

The only light near them, bar the glow of whatever screen Futaba is currently tapping away at, is from the tall beacon standing on the island ahead of them, where they will find Akira's Treasure. And even then, that light flickers, sometimes shutting off entirely. Leaving the both of them blind and scrambling to reorient themselves—as if Akira does not want them to come to him at all.

You're probably one of the reasons he has a Palace in the first place, replays Sakamoto's voice in Goro's head. When he'd said it, Goro had agreed distractedly, images of Akira's blood splatted against the wall of the interrogation room flickering in his mind—but here, now, something is making him feel immensely nauseous, and it's not the rocking of the boat.

He looks upon what has supposedly become of his rival's heart, at that dull beacon that's doing a pathetic job at leading them and thinks all of it is inconceivable. That this dark world they find themselves in simply cannot be the picture of Akira's consciousness. Whatever this is, Goro wants no part in it.

You're already in it, Hereward informs him, and it is the first time his Persona's voice in his head has ever startled him. You left him. You told him you would come back to him, and you didn't, he avers.

A lie, an excuse, sits waiting in reply, but Goro knows it would be of no use and holds his tongue. His silence should provide enough of an answer to his Persona's statement.

The very concept of this darkness in Akira being a product of Goro's absence is nonsensical. Laughable, even, but Goro knows Akira. Knows how boundlessly and unbearably sentimental he is.

Knows that he is a fool.

You were his greatest wish. Now look at what you've done.

Mercifully, he is spared any further of that particular train of thought, as Futaba takes off her mask in front of him. Its absence reveals her eyes, and she looks at Goro with purpose in her stare. Whatever device she'd been using dissipates, likely gone back to Al Azif.

"Y'know," she begins, and Goro starts rowing a little slower. "There's something that's been bugging me."

Goro has a feeling that what's been bugging her has nothing to do with their current scenery. "Just the one thing?" He quips anyway, without any humour.

She doesn't let it rile her up. Goro's losing his edge. "Because you're here now, that means everything that happened to you in Maruki's reality actually did happen, right?"

Goro grits his teeth. Why are they talking about this now? "That is a fair observation, yes. I remember it all, if that's what you're getting at."

"I know you do. That's not where I'm going with this." For some reason, her facial features remind him even more of Wakaba Isshiki when there's less light on them—the product of only ever seeing the woman in a dark lab, he supposes, and in Mementos, before he shot a bullet into her head. "What I wanna know is: if in Maruki's reality, you were just there because of his actualisation…"

Goro bristles. His hold on the oars slips for a moment.

"How are you here now?" She asks, before he can fully brace himself, phrasing such a massive philosophical question as if she's talking about a tech glitch. Goro opens his mouth to speak, but she seems to recognise that he's about to lie through his teeth, so she cuts him off right there. "No bullshit, Akechi. I want the truth. Just this one time."

Well, shit. Goro sets the oars down and stops rowing entirely. Futaba tilts her head at him, bemused.

"I wasn't an actualisation after all." He tears his eyes away from her to look at the floor of the boat. "I never died," he tells her, and admitting it aloud feels wrong in every possible way—an error.

She seems to feel the same. "But you did. In Shido's Palace, when that bulkhead door closed, I felt you disappear."

He should have done.

He starts rowing again. "Well, I'm here now, so unless Maruki's made his return to psychotherapy, I think it's safe to assume that I didn't die." That last part comes out with more of an edge to it than he'd intended. He hadn't meant for it to sound quite so hostile.

He expects Futaba to react—to tell him to shut it, assure him that she's been watching Maruki like a hawk since then, using government data or whatever the hell it is that she uses to find and keep track of people—but she just looks at him, expression stern, and asks, "How?"

"I don't know."

"I said don't bullshit me."

"I'm not," Goro bites back, pulling the visor of his mask down as his signal to end the conversation. "I truly don't know how. I just know that I didn't die."

Futaba huffs, but doesn't press further. For now, anyway. She fits her mask back on her face, and the screen she was using earlier reappears. Goro hears a few beeps, likely representing things he doesn't understand. "Wait, Crow, stop rowing a sec."

Her calling him Crow now means their previous conversation is definitely over, so Goro isn't worried about responding to her. He stops rowing. "What is it?"

"We're almost at the island, and I can see the basic layout of the Palace." She starts typing, lightning fast, then zooms in on the screen. "But there's a shadow at the entrance. Seems like it's waiting for us."

Goro swivels around in the boat, looking over to the island to see if he can spot anything, but all he can make out is the beacon. "Akira's Shadow?" He questions.

"No," Futaba replies, sounding certain. "I'd be able to tell."

Not Akira's Shadow, but something else waiting for them. Interesting. "You can't tell what it is at all?" He asks her, grabbing hold of the oars again.

Futaba's laser focused in on the screen, muttering under her breath. She makes a noise of irritation. "It's weird. My Persona seems to recognise it, like it's seen it before, but I can't tell what it is. Ideally, I'd be able to, 'case we gotta fight the thing."

She makes a point. Goro's the only one who can fight, and going blind to these things is never ideal. "Let's just try getting closer," he suggests—and so they do.

However, the closer they seem to get, the more that inane beacon seems to flicker itself off, plunging them into darkness. Goro almost throws an oar into the water a couple of times because of how irritated it makes him, but each time Futaba is there with a screen pulled up, assuring him they're still going in the right direction. He asks her multiple times, but much to their dismay, she can't identify the Shadow—even as their boat hits the jagged rock of the island's surface.

Goro neatly places the oars at the bottom of the boat and climbs out of it, his feet finally on land. When Futaba wobbles, he holds a hand out and helps her follow after him.

On the island before them is nothing but a large, circular structure. Its surface is worn and rusting, like the texture of an anchor forgotten and abandoned at the bottom of the sea. The beacon stands on top of it, and at its front is presumably the entrance—a vault door, almost like a bank vault, but with much less of the intricacies.

Like Kaneshiro's Palace, if Kaneshiro had been an old, lonely fisherman.

He lets go of Futaba's hand when she's made it out of the boat, and she instantly pulls up her screens. "This Palace is tiny. There's only one floor below, Treasure's gotta be there."

Never mind that, Goro thinks. "Where's the Shadow?" He asks.

Futaba's brow furrows as she darts her eyes between her devices. She's chewing on her lip in concentration. "It should—"

"I'm right here."

Futaba squawks, and Goro whirls around, unsheathing his sabre for good measure.

A Persona—one he's sure he's seen before—floats in the air before them. The way it looks at them is with such warmth that Goro knows instantly it's not here for a fight.

“Arsène,” Futaba breathes out.

"Little sister," Arsène replies. He looks at Goro. "Mon chéri."