Chapter Text
If Akira was being honest, even though he’d physically moved back home to his small, boring country home for his third and final year of high school, his heart had stayed behind in Tokyo. The Sakuras were there, his family in all but blood. He’d met his friends there, and even though many of them had followed their own paths, the messages in their eternally active group chat indicated that Tokyo was still “home” to all of them as well. How couldn’t it be, when it was the magnificent stage that had been set for them during their year-long performance as the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?
Tokyo had been an ever-changing backdrop for Akira as new players entered from the wings, stood beside him, conquered foes with him, and wowed their audience of supporters. It was also the place where he’d last seen one of those players exit the stage, choosing to dive into the darkness of the empty pit in front, never to return.
As the train moved along, Akira reached behind himself and felt around in his left back pocket, relieved when his fingers brushed a glove made of soft leather that had been carefully tucked inside. It was still there. He still had it. Akira let out a long sigh and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax his mind. He had known since the moment he agreed to meet up with his friends for summer vacation that he’d end up thinking about Akechi again. Not that he’d ever really stopped.
Even though he was merely in transit to his destination, clutching Morgana and standing quietly by himself, Akira was already seeing ghosts. He remembered how girls his age would stand huddled close together and gossip about the detective prince, each sharing their own story of their “magical encounters” with the boy in question, which ranged from accidental eye contact to completely fabricated secret dates. When the train’s speakers let out a stream of news bulletins and announcements, Akira half-expected to be informed about Goro Akechi’s latest interview or an ongoing debate about his favorite kind of crepe, or something equally frivolous.
As the train pulled into the station, Akira reflexively looked out the windows and searched the platform for a familiar blazer and tie, even though he knew he wouldn’t find anything. It didn’t matter what he thought he’d seen when he last left Tokyo. Because Akechi was…
Akira swallowed and forced his brain back to attention as he passively realized that Morgana had been talking for a while, and he’d yet to respond.
“...I’m almost kinda nervous to see everyone again,” Morgana said, beaming up at him from his hiding spot in Akira’s bag. Akira laughed a little and reached down to pet Morgana’s head. He was rewarded with a glare for his trouble, as usual.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said. “They’ll be happy to see you. Futaba said she has a bunch of little hats she wants to put on you.”
“What?” Morgana screeched. “Akira! You aren’t going to let her, right?”
Akira smiled to himself as the train came to a halt and he stepped out into the station. He forced himself to look forward and walk dutifully through the station toward his transfer line. If he was going to survive the summer, he’d just have to keep his mind occupied. That meant not thinking about the past, not thinking about the Phantom Thieves, and not chasing ghosts. He was just Akira Kurusu, visiting a normal city, ready to hang out and do normal things with his normal friends.
Against his will, Akira’s mind drifted once again to the glove sitting in his back pocket. He’d promised Akechi that they'd duel again, and that glove was proof of their promise to each other. What a joke. Akira knew he should just throw it out. He paused mid-step for just a second, eyeing a trashcan tucked into a corner of the station. With fingers that shook against his will, Akira pulled out the glove and stared at it.
Why had he even brought it along? Did he just like to torture himself?
Akira clenched the glove tightly in his hand and tucked it back in his pocket hastily, horrified that the thought of ridding himself of it even crossed his mind, and kept walking, letting his head hang as he pushed through the crowd.
“Akira…” Morgana said, voice akin to a disapproving parent. “I thought you were going to leave that at home.”
Akira stiffened and readjusted the bag on his shoulder, careful not to jostle Morgana too much. Even though he refused to look over at his cat companion, Akira could feel Morgana’s stare like it was a tangible attack to the back of his head.
“Yeah, I know,” Akira mumbled. Then, he quickly added, “Please don’t tell the others.”
Morgana sighed from inside the bag.
“Fine,” he relented. “But they’d probably want to know if being here is upsetting you.”
Akira walked a little faster, suddenly grateful he’d brought his glasses along. If Morgana had already caught on to Akira’s discomfort after being in Tokyo for all of five minutes, he’d definitely have to put more effort into his mask. After all, Akira had to be in top emotional form to support all his friends. He didn’t want to be the one to bring down the mood.
“Yeah,” Akira said passively to placate Morgana. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Much like Morgana, Akira had been strangely nervous to see everyone again, but those nerves disappeared the instant the lights inside Leblanc clicked on and his friends jumped out from all sides, party poppers in hand, looking nothing short of ecstatic to see him again. Akira made his way around the group, receiving hugs from all sides.
Ryuji was as enthusiastic as ever, being the first to capture him in a bone-crushing hug, immediately launching into a rant about the make-up work he’d been assigned due to his low exam scores. Still, he seemed happy and announced that his physical therapy had been working wonders. He hadn’t rejoined the Shujin track team, but he seemed happy to be running consistently again, stating that if he got fast enough, he still might be able to swing a good scholarship despite his sub-par grades.
Makoto, naturally, immediately told Ryuji off for not taking his third year of high school seriously enough, proving what Akira had already theorized –– college life had done nothing to relax Makoto Niijima when it came to grades. Akira briefly considered asking her if she still intended to become a cop… but the last thing he wanted was to cause conflict, so he kept quiet and hugged her.
Haru was next, greeting him with a bright smile. She looked well –– a bit more confident and cheerful than he last remembered her. Apparently, she and Makoto met for coffee often, sharing tales of classes, new acquaintances, and the like. She was planning to take over as the CEO of Okumura foods as soon as she got her business degree, and spoke enthusiastically about plans she was already outlining to build up the company’s reputation, start a small chain of intimate, quality cafes, and overall create a legacy for the Okumura name that would far outshine her father’s actions. Haru’s voice dropped a little as she spoke about him, but her voice didn’t waver. Akira swallowed and pasted on a smile. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be hugging him if she knew about the glove.
Yusuke hadn’t really changed, and, to Akira’s dismay, seemed just as thin as when they’d last seen each other. Yusuke reported that he’d actually been doing quite well for himself, selling a few pieces at good prices in the past year, so Akira could only assume Yusuke’s emaciated form was at the expense of a large tank of one thousand lobsters hoarded away somewhere. Akira made a silent promise to feed Yusuke well while he was in town, and maybe gift him a truckload of instant noodles before leaving.
Ann hadn’t been able to go abroad for her third year as she had talked about, but she didn’t seem that broken up about it. She and Shiho had kept in contact and were dating long-distance as they both finished the year in their respective high schools. She was still modeling and still eating about five crepes a week. She prodded Akira about his love life, demanding to know just how many hearts he had broken since returning home. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that everyone at home still treated him like a criminal, despite the fact that his charge had been overturned. And even if someone confessed to him, the thought of dating someone made Akira feel almost a little sick. Being that close with someone meant sharing everything, and Akira didn’t want to risk opening his heart to anyone who wouldn’t understand him. And Akira knew he was practically impossible to understand.
Futaba hugged him last, her affection more of a tackle than a greeting. She looked a little less pale and a little less gaunt than when he’d last seen her, and she told him all about her first year of high school. Akira wouldn’t have been able to keep a smile off his face even if he wanted to. He’d never had any doubts that Futaba would be fine on her own. She’d even made some new friends in her year as she breezed through her classes. She also explained that she’d invited Sumire to the welcome party as well, but she’d cited other plans and had wished him well, albeit remotely.
“Could you all keep it down? I’m running a business here,” Sojiro said from where he was positioned behind the counter. There wasn’t a shred of malice behind his voice, and try as he might, Sojiro couldn’t hide the fond smile that had slipped its way onto his tired features from the moment Akira had walked through the door.
“You’re looking sharp, kid,” Sojiro addressed him.
“Hey, Boss,” Akira said. “Wow… did you get even older? ”
“On second thought, maybe the only thing that’s grown on you is your mouth,” Sojiro said. Akira laughed as his friends crowded him once again, practically dragging him up the stairs to the attic. “Well, you all take your time and catch up. Make yourself comfortable, okay? After all… it’s your room.”
Akira nodded and found himself holding back tears from the raw emotion of all the reunions and memories flooding his system. He’d been so nervous to be back in Tokyo, and for good reason. There was a lot to dread about being back in the city –– the bustling crowds that threatened to swallow him whole, the foreboding underbelly he no longer had the power to fix, and the empty chairs that creaked and threatened to collapse under the weight they held that had no physical form. But it was also where he belonged, and there was no doubt in his mind about that.
I’m home, Akira thought to himself as he followed his friends up the stairs. He looked over his shoulder for just a second at the empty coffee shop, his gaze resting on one particular booth seat. I just wish you were, too.
"Ann, if you hug him one more time, I think you'll squeeze all the organs right out of him," Ryuji said.
Ann rolled her eyes as she found her seat in the attic, having given Akira one of many hugs of the evening. He certainly wasn't going to complain about that. He wasn't sure what he'd been so nervous about in the first place –– being back with the thieves was like resurfacing to clean air after being chained underwater for a few long, lonely months. But at that moment, almost everyone Akira held dear in his life was in one spot, gathered around a small table, sharing laughter and conversation over coffee and snacks.
It felt like a Phantom Thieves meeting. He was sure they all knew it, but thankfully, the comparison went unspoken. They were allowed to just be normal teenagers for a summer, to make memories and mistakes. That included, of course, spontaneous planning of whatever outing would keep them occupied for a few short weeks. Yusuke seemed to have his heart set on Kyoto, going on for quite a while about the "unique beauty" of the shrines and temple while they all did their best to listen attentively, with varying degrees of success.
Then, Ann suggested they all go camping, which seemed to be the far more popular option. Even Yusuke was swayed with the promise of a barbecue. As they all began to chatter about what meat to bring and places to hike, Futaba pulled out her phone and brought up an app Akira felt like he'd seen before, but didn't know the name of.
"Hey EMMA," Futaba said. "List recommended camping gear." After a second, a computerized voice came from her phone speaker.
"I have compiled a list of items recommended for camping," it said. "There is a sporting and travel goods store near 705 in Shibuya with an average customer rating of 4.9 stars."
"Aw, couldn't get five stars?" Ryuji asked.
"That number is averaged from every review the store has ever received," Makoto pointed out. "It would be nearly impossible to get it to an even five stars unless all the reviewers were artificial."
"What's that app, Futaba?" Morgana asked.
"Oh, this?" Futaba said. "It's EMMA. The virtual assistant? It's making huge waves right now, but I guess it hasn't hit the feline market yet."
"That's not funny!" Morgana protested.
"I have it too!" Ann said. "I don't use it a lot, but we should become friends!"
"Isn't it an artificial intelligence as well as a search engine?" Haru asked. "I remember reading about it in an article about Maddice. I'm surprised such an advanced application has a 'friend' function, to be honest."
"Yeah, it's probably to better sell your data to advertisers," Futaba said with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, everyone download it and become my friends!"
Akira decided to oblige her and downloaded the app, taking the time to become friends with everyone in the group after setting their keywords. He got to choose it for himself, and had settled on "MonaMona", much to the cat's displeasure. Futaba forwarded them all the list of camping supplies the AI had found and they all began to divide up tasks for the next morning's shopping. Akira ended up paired with Ryuji, who insisted they be the ones to find a barbecue, since Ryuji was, in his own words, "An expert on meat".
Akira could have talked with his friends all through the night, but as soon as the conversation began to reach a lull, he knew Makoto would insist they all head to their respective homes and get some rest. And, predictably, she did just that, Haru coming in clutch to smack down any protests with a devastating team attack of responsibility. None of them stood a chance, despite Futaba’s valiant efforts to goad them into staying. Everyone said their goodbyes, Ryuji giving him one last high five before leaving with a promise to see him the next morning for their great barbecue-hunting quest in Shibuya. Akira couldn’t really complain about the night wrapping up early. It was less humiliating than having his sleep schedule dictated by a cat.
The cat in question was kneading the blanket on top of Akira’s mattress impatiently, glaring at him as if he were somehow privy to his thoughts.
“Akiraaaaa…” he whined.
“Morganaaaa…” Akira mimicked back at him.
“You need to go to bed. We’re meeting Ryuji early tomorrow,” Morgana said. Akira rolled his eyes and shrugged off his polo shirt, reaching into his suitcase for an old t-shirt and pulling it on. After that, he removed his glasses, setting them carefully on the old work desk.
“Ah, I see what this is,” Akira said as he approached the bed. Morgana blinked back up at him, head cocked a little in confusion. “You want cuddle time!” Then, with practiced grace, Akira rolled onto the bed and pulled Morgana into his arms, hugging him close. Too easy. Another successful ambush for Akira Kurusu.
“I don’t want to be cuddled!” Morgana hissed, wiggling a little in his hold, but not hard enough to indicate an actual escape attempt from Akira’s very loose hold. Akira rubbed his cheek against Morgana’s little furry face and smiled. Morgana was a mischievous little liar. He loved cuddle time just as much as Akira did, even if he’d probably take a bath willingly before admitting that.
“Come on,” Akira said. “Aren’t you glad to be back here with me?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Morgana grumbled. Then he easily slipped out of Akira’s arms to sit next to him on the bed. “It’s good to be back. I’m excited to go camping, though! It’s great to have everyone back together again, isn’t it? Well, almost everyone.”
Akira’s breath caught. Had he been so transparent? Morgana knew that he had the glove, but he didn’t know just how much that seemingly insignificant little article of clothing meant to Akira. He certainly didn’t know that Akira brought it everywhere he went like some sort of fucked up security blanket that had an equal chance to make him feel worse as it did to make him feel better.
“But I’m sure we’ll see Sumire while we’re here!” Morgana finished, somehow completely oblivious to Akira’s turmoil.
Akira did what he did best and plastered on a smile, giving Morgana a few last pets on his head before he slipped under the blanket and laid down. Morgana wished him goodnight before curling up beside him on the bed. Akira could feel the rise and fall of Morgana’s little body slowing down in pace after a few minutes, and soon enough, Akira had no doubt in his mind that Morgana was fast asleep. Akira, however, was fighting to stay awake.
Something was tugging him into unconsciousness with a pointed persistence –– exhaustion from the day’s travel, most likely, but Akira wanted to savor the moment of peace, lying quietly in the dark, listening to the idle sounds of the world outside his window. He relished the beautiful monotony of it all. Fighting sleep was a losing battle, however, and soon enough, the sounds of Yongen-Jaya faded, replaced by something beautiful and distant, familiar and foreign. A song that floated between dream and reality, mind and matter.
“... we’ve got a great show for you all tonight!”
Noise from every direction.
“Now! It is with great pleasure that we re-introduce to the stage…”
Something was different. What had he just been doing? His eyes were open, yet there was only darkness.
“... the heart-stealing…”
Hadn’t he just been lying down? He was standing now, at least he was pretty sure he was. There was pressure underneath his feet, yet no shape of a room, no matter how hard he squinted his eyes and tried to make out any detail.
“... death-defying…”
Who was that? Where was that coming from?
“...undaunted daredevil…”
He took a shaky step forward and froze as he felt the material of a long coat brush up against the backs of his legs.
“Jooookeeeer!” the unfamiliar voice boomed.
With a loud thunk, the unfamiliar space was flooded with light. Akira looked around frantically to see spotlights in every direction, some in the rafters, some far away in the distance, all focused on him with an intensity that gave him a splitting headache. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, but when he finally got a grasp of his surroundings, he found himself even more unsettled than before.
He was wearing his old Phantom Thief attire, standing alone in the center of a massive stage that was crowded with equipment. He recognized some key pieces –– a tightrope above him, a trapeze, and a unicycle. However, some acts seemed more akin to torture devices. Akira felt an involuntary shiver creep its way up his spine and rest uncomfortably between his shoulder blades as he eyed a large glass tank of water, a canon large enough to crawl inside opposite a hanging net, and a large painted wooden wheel with restraints attached to it and several knives impaled just outside the sketched outline of a person.
In the darkness just beyond the edge of the stage, Akira could sense thousands of eyes, unblinking, eternally fixed on his movements. He couldn’t quite make out what was beyond in the pitch black, but he knew they were there. He could hear waves of breaths from beyond, feel their gazes, their expectations piercing his soul like needles. He wondered if that announcer was out there among them, but figured not. Whatever that voice was, it had been everywhere, ruling over the stage as its master.
Akira shivered, wanting to search in the royal blue curtains behind him for an exit, but found himself too terrified to move. He couldn’t leave just yet. He was on stage. They were waiting for him. He had to stay, but he didn’t know what he was meant to do.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps broke Akira out of his stupor. He didn’t dare turn away from the crowd, so he only let his eyes flicker to the side to see a small figure dressed in blue approaching. She wore neat black slacks underneath a royal blue jacket with a wide collar, gold cufflinks, and an elegant peplum that split into two long coattails. On top of her head of long, silver hair was a small top hat with a butterfly pin.
“Lavenza?” Akira said when he finally found his voice.
“Hello, Trickster,” Lavenza said solemnly. She clutched her large book a little closer to her chest before continuing. “Welcome to the Velvet Room.”
“This is the Velvet Room?” Akira asked. Lavenza looked away, something unreadable clouding her eyes.
“I know not whether to rejoice or bemoan this reunion. Regardless, I must perform my duty,” she said. “... the expression you wear tells me you already can guess the reason for your summons.”
“The Metaverse didn’t die so easily, huh,” Akira sighed. “So you’ve called me here for…” Akira looked around at the stage once more. “...An encore?”
“That is one way to put it, yes,” Lavenza said. “There is a new danger threatening to consume both yourself and the entire world whose heart you fought so desperately to change.”
A new danger. The Metaverse, again. Akira standing in a strange dimension shrouded in blue, dressed as Joker, again. A visceral part of him wanted to scream and tear out his hair in messy chunks. This was supposed to be past him. He couldn’t deal with all this again. He couldn’t just drag his friends back into danger like that. He refused to risk losing anyone else.
His distress must have seeped into his expression against his will, as she saw Lavenza’s professional gaze soften with sympathy.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed the changes this place has undergone,” she said. “As my master mentioned to you previously, the appearance of the Velvet Room reflects the state of a wildcard’s heart. As you can surmise, you no longer see yourself as a prisoner of fate, but as a performer bound to a duty to appease the masses. A different sort of prison that offers you no sense of security whatsoever… ”
“Who else is here?” Akira asked, willing his voice not to shake. “That voice… Was that Igor?”
Lavenza’s gaze dropped again, her golden eyes sparking with conflict.
“My master is not present at the time,” Lavenza said. “I understand you have many questions, but please understand that it is not my role to answer them. As one who rules over power, it is my duty to witness the path you take. It is not my role to interfere with it. For that, I am truly sorry, Trickster. But I must ask you once again to rise against this cruel fate, and fight against it.”
Akira clenched his fists and gazed into the crowd. Though he couldn’t see them, he could feel them leaning forward in their seats, straining to hear, murmuring amongst themselves, worrying that the show might not go on. Akira exhaled a long breath and tried to focus on Lavenza. Still, the crowd’s bated breath thinned the air around him, to the point the Akira almost felt dizzy. What choice did he have?
“You can count on me,” he told Lavenza. His answer made her smile, and the hundreds of invisible hands reaching from the crowd loosened their death grip on his heart. That was the correct answer. It was the only answer.
Akira stumbled a little on his heels, head aching. He was waking up in the real world. Lavenza gave him a polite nod.
“We must part for now. Let us meet again soon,” she said.
Akira felt his eyelids grow heavy as the Velvet Room disappeared, his stomach swimming to the point he feared he might fall over completely. As the world went dark and the distant music faded away, Akira swore he heard one last phrase from his unknown tormentor.
“Looks like Joker won’t be giving us a show tonight, folks. How disappointing.”
Ryuji was already sweating up a storm in the relentless heat when Akira found him in Shibuya. Despite his clear discomfort in the sun, Ryuji looked upbeat as always, greeting him with enthusiasm. Any ideas Akira had about telling Ryuji about the previous night’s encounter in the Velvet Room were quickly dismissed. Akira could handle it on his own. Ryuji had almost died last December as they escaped the sinking ship… Akira knew he’d be all too eager to throw himself into danger all over again if given the chance.
Akira didn’t want that for him. He could only hope that whatever calamity Lavenza spoke of, he’d be able to snuff it out quickly. He had an army of powerful personas at his beck and call, and he’d already defeated two gods. He wasn’t going to ruin summer break for the rest of them. Not with the Metaverse, and not with his personal problems.
“We’re in charge of picking up the barbecue, right?” Morgana was saying from where he was perched on Akira’s shoulder. “Lead the way, Ryuji!”
“Huh? Me?” Ryuji asked. “I don’t know where we’re going. Shit, lemme ask that app thing.” Ryuji pulled out his phone and pulled up the EMMA app that Futaba had shown them all the previous day.
“Hello, do you need something?” the robotic voice of EMMA chirped from Ryuji’s speaker.
“Yeah, uh, can you show us the way to that camping goods store you found yesterday?” Ryuji asked. He rubbed the back of his neck in sheepish embarrassment as if he were asking a real person for a favor.
“Now displaying the optimal route to your destination,” EMMA said.
“Nice,” Ryuji said, pumping his fist. “We just gotta head that way –– hey, what the hell’s with that crowd?” Akira looked where Ryuji was pointing and saw what could only be described as a full-on mob pushing its way through the streets. Akira couldn’t hear much in the cacophony of chatter, but the name “Alice” stuck out.
“I have a suggested event for you in your area,” EMMA piped up. “A promotional store opening is currently underway at the Shibuya 705 storefront with Alice Hiiragi.”
“Geez, this app’s got a mind of its own,” Ryuji mumbled. “I didn’t ask for any ‘suggested event’ –– Wait, Alice is here ?”
“Alice who?” Akira asked. EMMA spoke before Ryuji could get the chance to.
“Alice Hiiragi is a Japanese fashion model and performing artist known for her unique sense of style,” EMMA said. “She has become a pop-culture tastemaker and continues to amass a devoted young fanbase.”
“Dude, we gotta go see!” Ryuji said. “There’s an actual idol, just right over there! The barbecue can wait!”
“Couldn't care less,” Akira said with a shrug.
“Seriously?” Ryuji protested.
“I prefer Risette,” Akira said.
“Look at the map, though!” Ryuji pressed. “It’s on our way to the store and everything! Come on, man. She’s super cute. We gotta stop by at least.” Akira sighed and gestured silently for Ryuji to lead the way, while Morgana muttered from inside his bag about how irresponsible they were being and how he should have tagged along with “Lady Ann”.
The front of the 705 building had been transformed into a stage, rife with balloons, streamers, and the like. The crowd that had gathered was quite dense, but that didn't deter Ryuji from barging through the masses of people, attempting to get as close as possible. Akira couldn't do much but follow behind, keeping his head down to avoid the glares of the displeased people around him. When Ryuji finally stopped, Akira had a much better view of the person on the stage, and at once, it was immediately apparent to him why she was well-known as a fashion designer. Her hair was is an elaborate up-do, dyed sea foam green with streaks of blue. On top of her head was a large bow and...a teapot. Her dress was similarly lavish, its wide skirt making her larger than life. It was similarly adorned with ribbons and bows, as well as an enormous pocket watch on one side.
"...this store will be carrying my new line: Alice in Wonderland!" Alice was saying. "Have you ever dreamed that you could be someone else, just for a little while? That you could step into your imagination and become a stronger, more beautiful you? Well, I know a place where those dreams can come true –– in my beautiful Wonderland! I hope you all will enjoy what me and my team have created here, and as a special gift, I'm giving away 100 magical cards that will ensure you have a magical time in Wonderland."
"What the heck..." Morgana grumbled from Akira's bag.
At that point, Alice stepped off the stage and began handing out cards to eager audience members. Akira sighed as he saw Ryuji grappling for one as well, and began nursing a growing headache. He was really eager to get on with the shopping they'd planned to do.
"Here you go!"
Akira felt something being shoved in his hand, looked up, and saw Alice giving him one of her cards. He blinked in surprise for a second and then managed a nod before she turned away and gave her attention to someone else.
Once Alice had given away all the cards and disappeared into a waiting car, the crowd began to dissipate, many of the fans heading right into the line for the new store. Akira, however, walked away from the store opening ceremony with a strange card in his hand and not much of a clearer idea of why Alice was so popular. She seemed to be huge in Shibuya –– that much was clear from the over-enthusiastic crowd and the description EMMA had given them –– but Akira hadn’t ever heard of her before, and despite living out in the country, Akira didn’t live under a rock. Still, Ryuji seemed happy that they’d made the detour, even though his pout indicated he was bent out of shape that Akira had received one of Alice’s coveted cards while he’d been passed over.
“You can have the card if you want, Ryuji,” Akira said, offering it to him as they made their way toward the recommended camping supply store. “I don’t even know what it is, really.” He passed the card over to Ryuji, who snatched it up and stared at it.
“Aw, what?” Ryuji said, frowning. “This thing’s just an ad!”
“Wait, there’s some fine print!” Morgana said, leaning to read the card over Akira’s shoulder. “It says, ‘Here’s my EMMA keyword. Please become my friend!’”
“For real?” Ryuji said. “Dude! We gotta use that keyword! She’s like super famous, but we’ll be her friends!”
“I’m pretty sure it’s just gonna be a mailing list,” Akira said. “She’s not actually going to be communicating with anyone.”
“Don’t be like that,” Ryuji said. “Come on, just try it out! It’s technically your card, so you should do it first. It says ‘Wonderland’. That’s the keyword you gotta put in.”
“Fine, fine, I’m doing it,” Akira said, pulling out his phone. He opened his EMMA app and smiled at the notifications informing him that the rest of the group had accepted his friend requests from the previous night. Knowing he’d have to indulge Ryuji, Akira typed in the keyword and pressed ‘Submit’, hoping there’d be some way to unsubscribe from any automated mailing list that he’d find himself subscribed to in the near future.
“Keyword successfully entered. Beginning navigation.”
Akira tensed, the phrase suddenly flooding his brain with memories of the previous night’s encounter in the Velvet Room. That couldn’t be… EMMA? The Metaverse? So soon?
“Did you say something?” he heard Ryuji ask. Akira tried to respond but found that he couldn’t, his head pounding painfully from the otherworldly pressure that came with teleporting to the Metaverse.
Akira blinked open his eyes and instantly recognized the familiar weight of Joker’s mask on his face. Across from him, Ryuji’s clothes had also changed to his pirate-like Phantom Thief attire.
“Huh? Joker?” Morgana’s voice came from below. Akira looked down and saw that Morgana had changed too, now standing on two legs in his Metaverse form.
“What the eff is going on?” Ryuji said, turning over his hands and checking his outfit frantically. “Is this a palace?”
“I don’t know,” Morgana said. “But wherever we are, I feel like this place is connected to the Metaverse.”
Akira took stock of their surroundings, his brow furrowing. At first glance, it just looked like Shibuya. They were surrounded by the same towering structures of nearby buildings, and the three of them were still standing in the street where they’d been moments before. But, the tinge of the sky was different, and the air had a familiar, palpable strangeness to it that seemed impossible to describe. The Metaverse had always felt “off”, the inorganic feeling of the very air around them always contributing to their ability to imagine the impossible and translate that into the ability to attempt impossible feats.
The world hummed with potential energy and raw power. Akira remembered being entranced by that feeling when he’d first entered Kamoshida’s palace the previous year, chasing the high of danger like it was a drug. But then, everything had become too much, and he hadn’t been able to forget since that day in December, (and to some extent, that day in early February), just how fragile the human body could be, and how quickly someone could have their life snuffed out, no matter how much power they wielded.
It was different now. When reality shifted suddenly and Akira felt the power of the other world, the adrenaline rush was unwelcome. He felt every one of his nerves burn with anticipation, while his heart turned to ice. He was terrified. But Morgana and Ryuji were at his side, both looking at him expectantly. Akira swallowed and straightened his posture. It was no time to worry about how he felt. He had to be the leader. He had to be Joker .
He caught sight of a strange tower in the distance that seemed to be one of the only things notably different about the cityscape. There was a giant cage on top of the Shibuya 705 storefront that glowed with bright pink light and sparkled under the movement of various rotating spotlights. He was about to point out the oddity when his attention was pulled away by something even more perplexing.
There were a few people standing nearby, who appeared to be normal humans from the real world. However, their bright smiles and complete disregard for the change of scenery gave Akira pause. Shadows, then? he wondered. Is this place like Mementos? Or are those cognitions?
“Look over there,” Akira said, nudging Ryuji and pointing towards the three gathered pedestrians.
“Hey, I think those guys were at the store opening!” Morgana remarked. “They got cards like you did, Joker.”
“The cards?” Ryuji said. “Wait a minute! We only got here after Akira typed that keyword into EMMA right? Do you think… is this Alice’s…”
Before Ryuji could finish, a giant screen that sat over the street sparked to life, displaying a woman with electric pink hair, golden eyes, and wildly eccentric fashion. She looked a little different, but there was no doubt about it. It was Alice’s shadow.
“Hey everyone!” Alice’s voice chirped from the screen. “You love me, don’t you?”
The three gathered men responded enthusiastically, nodding their heads.
“Oh yeah?” Alice laughed. “Then you can give me all your desires!”
From every dark corner, shadows manifested. They were all adorned in police uniforms, some of them carrying nightsticks. Akira’s stomach lurched at the sight, but he kept his mouth shut. Ironically enough, it was probably a good thing that he’d been drugged when he’d been arrested in November. He couldn’t remember much of the interrogation before Sae had shown up, but the flashes that stuck with him were enough to indicate that the haziness of his memory was merciful.
“The hell are they doing?” Ryuji murmured under his breath. Akira watched, a little dumbstruck, as one of the shadows seized one of the men and pulled what looked like a large pink gem out of his chest. As soon as it was removed, the man went limp, falling into the waiting arms of two other shadows, who carried him off and out of sight. Akira reached into his coat and retrieved the dagger stashed in the folds. Shadows were beginning to close in on them from all sides, and it looked like there’d be no way to avoid a fight.
“We’re gonna have to fight our way outta here!” Morgana said. “Diego!”
Morgana’s persona manifested behind him as he pulled out his small curved sword and grinned at the approaching shadows.
“Alright,” Akira said, adjusting his gloves. “This will be over quick.”
“That’s our leader!” Ryuji said, giving him a thumbs-up as he bashed a nearby shadow over the head with his lead pipe.
Right. Time to wipe them all out and get outta here.
Akira removed his mask and called out, “Satanael!”
But no one answered his call. And, to Akira’s dismay, he found he couldn’t feel Satanael’s presence in his heart either. In fact…
“Yoshitsune!”
Nothing.
“Kaguya!”
Nope.
No, no, no… he thought. Please tell me I still have…
“...Metatron?”
Not there. Akira tried to contain his panic but noticed Morgana looking at him in surprise, watching him fail to summon any of the Personas that he knew he had when they fought Maruki. Had they all really abandoned him? His heart didn’t feel quite empty, though. At its core, Akira could still feel the familiar spark of…
“Arsène!”
The Persona in question burst to life, towering behind him, poised and ready to strike. The feeling of Arsène behind him was familiar, and so overwhelmingly nostalgic that Akira couldn’t help the stupid smile the spread across his face, temporarily relieving him of his panic of having lost all his other personas. Arsène was his very first Persona –– the Persona that always felt the most like him. The strength of his other self stirred in pulses of energy around Akira as he leaped towards the approaching shadows with his knife.
With the aid of Arsène, Akira decimated the clusters of shadows with curse magic, watching Morgana and Ryuji make quick work of their own attackers with Diego and William, their respective Personas. They seemed to be doing just fine, and to Akira’s dismay, he found that he was the one struggling to keep up the pace. As he continued to fight the seemingly endless waves of shadows, Akira found himself surprised at how quickly he was tiring himself out. Arsène also seemed a lot weaker than Akira remembered, though that could have just been his imagination. Still, Akira stuck mostly to slashing through shadows with his dagger until his arms were sore.
The shadows just kept coming, trudging forward towards the three of them, some of them shedding their skin and showing their real forms as pixies and jack-o-lanterns, while others stayed as imposing uniformed figures until they were sliced through, their badges reflecting the neon lights of the castle in the distance. Akira’s dagger was knocked out of his hand the second he lost concentration, clattering on the ground and sliding a few feet away from him. There was still a shadow right in front of him to deal with, so Akira settled for throwing a punch at it and quickly diving to the ground to retrieve his weapon. He had to stretch a little to retrieve the dagger since it had been kicked a little bit too far away for him to grab easily but after some awkward crawling on his stomach, it was back in his hand, and Akira allowed him to exhale just for a second.
Then, he looked up to see a shadow standing right over him, its featureless face somehow exuding malice. Akira noticed the nightstick in its hand and froze.
November. That dark room. The blows, the injections… he had to stay strong and focused, or he was going to die…
The shadow swiftly brought the nightstick down on Akira’s head, and he barely felt the impact before he lost consciousness.