Chapter Text
Glass fractures, the sands of time compressed and twisted by matter in a realm where none should exist. The soul torn in twain twists and writhes, desperately calling out for its other half as a thousand fragmented memories play on loop in each shard of ever floating glass.
– brown hair red eyes, oscillating between mahogany and blood (friend) and chestnut and wine (foe?). Either way, his heart still beats, saliva forming in his mouth –
– the woman smiles sadly at her own reflection. “Hello. Sorry to be cliché, but if you’re watching this recording, then I am already dead.” –
– a man, shaggy haired and beaked nosed, laughing as God begins to break its bonds. A man, bald and handsome and no less deranged, laughing as the cycle repeats –
– the shackles holding back the Shadow of all Shadows begins to snap, and the world quakes –
OVER A HUNDRED DEAD AS TRAGIC ACCIDENT DEVASTATES IWATODAI. At 11:59 last night, an explosion rocked the Okumura Corporation’s Gekkoukan Research Laboratory, killing all 32 staff members on site, including CEO Okumura Kunikazu. Barely a minute later, a massive explosion rocked the recently unveiled Moonlight Bridge. Only one survivor has been found so far, a minor who is being hailed as the ‘Iwatodai Orphan’. It's unknown what, if any, connection the incidents share…
“Greetings, Survivor.” The girl in a blue dress boops his nose, startling Ren awake. Smiling, she runs down the school hallway, blonde hair flowing behind her. “Welcome to the Velvet Room.”
“It’s not much of a room.” He comments. It’s a corridor – a blue hallway for a blue girl, and not for him, who’s still wearing his pyjamas instead of his school uniform.
That doesn’t seem at all odd, however, and instead, he tilts his head.
He’s never seen blonde hair in real life before.
Ren thinks he prefers brown–
With a gasp, Amamiya Ren wakes up for real. Sweat drips down his brow, and he can almost hear the little girl’s giggles in his ears.
“It was just a dream.” He runs a shaky hand through his shaggy hair, sweat beading on his forehead. “It was just a dream.”
.....
“Tch. Stop slouching, boy. Do you really want to meet the mayor looking like a slob?” Aunt Hanako’s face puckers as she attempts to untangle Ren’s hair, though her hands soon drops to her side.
He’s told her a thousand times before that his hair is a lost cause, not that the middle-aged woman ever listens to him. But that’s fine. It’s easy enough for Ren to compress the storm of anger brewing in his chest into an ugly little ball of hate and toss it to the side. As much as his aunt infuriates him, with her impossible expectations and constant demands for him to be nice and compliant, bold and driven, kind and handsome and unnoticeable and unobtrusive and literally every fucking positive trait anyone could think of all at once, Ren’s not a child.
Only children think life is fair, and he figured out that wasn’t true nine years ago, when the Okumura Foundation got his parents blown up. While the company had never officially admitted they were behind the Moonlight Bridge incident, given the mayor had just spontaneously offered him a full scholarship to the prestigious Gekkoukan High despite his mediocre grades, the same Gekkoukan High the Okumura Foundation runs, well… Ren learned basic arithmetic a long time ago, and doesn’t particularly struggle putting two-and-two together.
And it’s because life isn’t fair that despite goddamn everything, he actually accepted the offer. Ren’s not dumb enough to bite any hand that's willing to feed him, even if he hates who it belongs too. Especially since the scholarship also means he can stay in Gekkoukan’s dorms for the next few years, and there's no way he's passing anything up that gets him out of Aunt Hanako's house.
The journey to the mayor’s office is spent in silence, the only noise the tinny pop song blasting from the car's radio and the buzz of the traffic around them. Neither Ren nor Hanako are a huge connoisseurs of pop music, however, it’s a good way to pre-emptively prevent any conversation, and therefore the radio is embraced by them both. For all their discord, occasionally, the remaining Amamiyas are perfectly in sync. In other words, anything that keeps them away from each other, physically or metaphorically, is a good thing.
(Their mutual efforts to avoid each other as humanely possible are quite frankly the closest thing they have to bonding experiences. In fact, if this latest attempt at leaving each other’s lives for good succeeds, they may actually be able to look back at the other with some sort of fondness in a decade or two. Good old Aunt Hanako – she was an awful shrew, but at least she actively aided Ren’s attempts to fuck off forever, and he’ll forever be grateful for that.)
Ren stops thinking about the future, however, as the car rolls to a stop, Risette’s not-so dulcet tones shutting off with a twist of the keys. The Amamiyas still don’t speak as they walk into Tatsumi Port Island’s town hall, but this time, the silence between them is so much heavier.
A man greets them as they step off the elevator, and onto the floor the mayor’s office is on. “Ah, you must be the Amamiyas!”
The foyer is lavish, surprisingly so, and this time it’s Ren who struggles with the desperate desire to tame his hair a bit. With dark wood walls and a plush red carpet, the place screams money, something Ren hasn’t had much of since his parents died. Judging by the slight, nigh imperceptible twinge one of Aunt Hanako’s eyes spontaneously develops, she’s also noticed that the place screams of a wealth she lost access too after suddenly getting stuck with a child.
Great use of the taxpayer’s money, this place. Ren snorts, earning himself a glare that he ignores.
Oblivious to his guests' discomfort, the secretary rises from his desk, knocking on an ornate door with a white-gloved hand before swinging it open. “Come on through. Shido-san is expecting you.”
If Ren thought the foyer was ostentatious, Shido’s actual office takes it to a whole new level. A portrait of the man takes centre stage, cabinets filled with awards lining the ornately decorated walls. Ren’s stomach clenches as he realises Shido isn’t alone – a woman with a clipboard stands next to a man with a large camera in the office's corner, but this time, Ren has the discipline not to react. His aunt mentioned there might be press, hoping to make a pretty little puff-piece, but he’d prayed she’d be wrong.
He should have known by now that all prayers go unanswered.
“Greetings, Amamiya-kun, Amamiya-san.” Shido approaches the duo, his stride and smile both oozing confidence. His eyes quickly flit away from Aunt Hanako, however, landing directly on Ren. “Before we start, I’d like to give you an apology. Our prosperous city should have compensated the survivors of the Moonlight Bridge tragedy long before now. I’m sorry this offering came nearly a decade too late.”
Ren’s eyes widen as the man suddenly bows, and deeply at that. Something inside him twists, and this time he can’t help but bite his lips. Sure, Shido's words are probably just some meaningless waffle he gave to look good in front of the press, but…
Well, he wasn't expecting for it to be acknowledged that yes, Tatsumi Port Island has wronged him.
(It wasn't before, not in the wake of his parents' deaths and his life going to hell.)
“There’s no need to apologize, Shido-san.” Aunt Hanako brushes the mayor off, her smile doing such a convincing job at appearing genuine, she could have been the one in politics. “In fact, we’re both so grateful for the opportunity you’ve given us, especially Ren-kun here.”
“That’s right.” He tips his head politely before his aunt can elbow him in the ribs. “Thank you for organising my scholarship, Shido-san.”
Aunt Hanako’s smile wavers, his praise clearly not simpering enough for her tastes, but before she can speak up, the news reporter chimes in. “The camera’s ready, Shido-san!”
“Alas, the press is calling – shall we?” Shido chuckles almost ruefully.
As the woman directs them to shake hands, mayor and student posed so the camera can get a good shot of their faces while simultaneously making it look like they’re looking at each other, it takes all of Ren’s effort to keep a placid smile on his face. God, this is just so tacky. He doesn’t want to be forever emblazoned in the pages of a newspaper all because his parents died brutally when he was child.
“Don’t worry, boy.” Shido murmurs between shoots, smile barely even twitching. “We’re almost done now.”
The mayor is right – one flash later, and the reporter gives them a thumbs up. “Alright, that should be enough! Before we go, do either of you have any last words for the press?”
Ren shakes his head, repeating his line about how oh-so grateful he is.
Shido, however, considers the woman’s words a bit more carefully. “I’m simply happy I’ve had the chance to at least try to make amends for my predecessor’s mistakes. On that note, if there are any other survivors or family members affected by the tragedy who haven’t been compensated yet, please contact my office, and we will make the appropriate arrangements.” With a chuckle, his eyes slide towards the Amamiya’s. “It took me far too long to hunt you down.”
As the reporters leave, Aunt Hanako hot on their tails, Ren’s about to follow suit when Shido suddenly clears his throat. “If you ever run into any trouble at Gekkoukan, Amamiya-kun, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I have a position on the school’s board – while my duties here prevents me from being as involved with Gekkoukan’s running as I’d like, I do still have some influence there.”
“… Thank you, sir. I’ll take you up on that if I ever need too.” He says mainly to have something to say, as opposed to actually meaning any of it.
“The gratitude is unnecessary, Amamiya-kun.” Shido chuckles, leaning against his desk with a grin. “I just hope this will be the start of a long, prosperous relationship.”
And on cue,
reality
FRACTURES
Blue light.
Blue shards.
The flipping of a card as a girl’s voice echoes.
I am thou… Thou art I…
Thou hast established a new bond…
It shall become part of the path thy travels
on thou’s journey towards the ultimate answer.
Thou shalt be blessed when creating
Personas of the Moon Arcana…
Almost as quickly as it had broken, reality resolidifies. Shido is still smiling at him, not a flicker of surprise or apprehension or even base confusion in his gaze. At that moment, Ren knows deep in his soul that the only one who’d witnessed that was him.
(A few milliseconds later, Ren realises where he’s heard the girl’s voice before. It belonged to the blonde he dreamed of last night.)
Stammering out a farewell, Ren hurries out after his aunt, heart pounding in his chest as his hands tremble.
This time, he doesn’t even process the words droning out from the radio on the journey home, still too caught up on the fact that he thinks his wretched dreams are finally beginning to follow him into reality.
Unlike the silent trip across town, however, Aunt Hanako deigns to speak as they roll into their carport. She hasn’t even turned off the car’s engine yet before the words leave her mouth. “Remember to behave at Gekkoukan, and don’t forget to make the most of it. There’ll be important connections you can foster at that school, and your time there will be gone before you know it.”
“I know, Aunt Hanako.” He sighs, though in hindsight, Ren will regret those exasperated words.
(Because she’s right, righter than Ren could ever imagine.)
Leaving the vehicle, the deep breath of fresh air he takes in is pleasantly grounding, and Ren’s ire begins to fade as he hesitates at the threshold of their home. Or Aunt Hanako’s home, really. An emotion he can’t quite identify trickles down his spine as it dawns on him that in less than three days, he’ll leave this place and never return.
As much as Ren hates how Aunt Hanako acts, and would die happy if he never saw her again, Ren can’t bring himself to hate the woman herself. Life wasn’t fair to Aunt Hanako either – despite being adamantly childfree she got stuck with a kid anyway, her career stalling and partner abandoning her after she suddenly needed to raise a six-year-old.
Their cohabitation is a mutual hell, and one they both deserve to be free from.
Ren’s bows deeply. “Thank you, Aunt Hanako, for your hospitality.”
This time, when reality shatters, the little girl’s voice whispering something about Fortune and freedom, Ren expertly tunes it out and goes straight to bed.
.....
Ren wakes up at 3 in the morning, stomach aching for a dinner he skipped and dreams blessedly quiet. The boy slinks slowly out of his room, careful to skip the second to last step as he heads downstairs towards the kitchen. A flicker of surprise cuts through him, however, as he steps onto the landing only to see the area illuminated not by soft moonlight, but by the harsh glow of a TV screen.
Odd. Aunt Hanako’s never up this late. Brows furrowing, he takes a detour towards the living room. Ren doesn’t even understand why – she’s probably just trying to trap him, give herself one last excuse to take out her misery on him.
Despite that, he still enters the room, the near muted TV casting his aunt into silhouette as she sits ramrod straight on the couch. Ren's stomach twists at the oddly low volume – maybe she was trying to avoid waking him up? The odd sense of wistfulness he felt earlier than day returns as quietly, Ren creeps towards the remote, careful not to disturb her rest. Picking it up, he’s half a second away from turning off the TV when he glances back at his aunt, and nearly jumps out of his skin as he sees her wide, open eyes.
“Christ, Aunt Hanako!” He hisses, heart hammering in his chest. “You half scared me to death! I thought you were asleep!”
Ren’s expecting admonishments, a sharp scoff followed by a lecture. Instead, however, Aunt Hanako is silent, silent, silent, and despite squinting in confusion, it still takes Ren a good second to notice the black liquid dripping down her face.
Ren’s scream is loud enough to wake the dead, but fails to wake the living.
.....
Apathy Syndrome, the paramedics say as one puts a blanket over Ren’s shoulder, his aunt’s nigh-comatose body being loaded onto an ambulance as they speak. Ren can barely muster the strength to flick his eyes in her direction. He’s seen the reports on the news, but hadn’t really thought much of it. Apathy Syndrome was a thing that happened to other people, weak willed individuals who gave up when faced with the battle that’s life. Not his fiery, stubborn aunt, who’s too busy being pissed off at the world to suddenly stop caring about it.
But god. Her eyes. Her face. Whatever the fuck Apathy Syndrome is, it’s not just some overblown depressive disorder.
A deep weight sinks in Ren’s stomach. While he doesn’t know much about the disease, he does know something. Namely, there’s no known cure.
Ren leaves for the Gekkoukan dorms a day early.