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kareofbears · 3 years

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plainly in truth, chapter 4/5

“Without you around, it’s sorta like stuff is just kinda…bleh.”

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut

Niijima Makoto doesn’t know what she’s doing.

It’s rare, but it happens. Sometimes she doesn’t understand the material in university. Sometimes the trains close down before she can catch the last one. Sometimes she has a breakdown because what does it mean that the system that got her father killed is the same one that she’s working so hard to get into.

But there’s always a way to find a solution—ask the professor after lecture. Call Sae and, as humiliating as it was, ask for a ride home. Convince herself that maybe she’s what the system needed in order to get real change. (She’s not quite there yet.)

She doesn’t know what she’s doing with Ryuji, and the internal tug-of-war is almost getting too much for her.

Makoto can help him; how many students has she worked with to help get them back on their feet? But each of those students she had tutored wanted help—she didn’t need to convince them to focus on school. How do you convince someone to get academic help? Duct tape them to a chair and show them a PowerPoint about how their life can fall apart if they don’t take this seriously? Then she’d be blatantly ignoring his mental struggle, and be no better than the adults who want to push kids through a meat grinder that’s the education system and turn them into mindless workers, existing solely to earn them profit.

Then she can leave him alone. That’s what he wants, anyway, and it’s by far the simplest option.

However, if she leaves him alone, would that mean that she’s still the same person who let Shujin students sell themselves to Kaneshiro? Convinced that they can handle it on their own, but only letting their debts pile higher and higher on themselves until they get crushed?

Sudden laughter and shouting from behind pulls Makoto back to reality. They were all in a heated game of Tycoon, and it sounds like Akira’s been on a winning streak for the past half hour.

She grips the steering wheel tighter, forcing herself to focus on the road and not the whirlwind of thoughts. The highway is nearly empty, despite the sun being high in the sky, not a single cloud blocking its rays. They’re on their way to Okinawa, and it’s her turn to drive.

Makoto may not know what she’s doing, but she can at least do this.

—

Okumura Haru has always had a bit of a guilt complex.

It started with refusing to give her hand to an abusive man for her also abusive father’s business, and it had only escalated even further once she realized that it’s technically her fault that her father had been killed; that one in particular had been crippling. Not only because he died due to her poor decision making, but it was another reason why the Thieves had fallen for Shido’s trap last year.

She respects herself enough now to understand that most of it is misplaced, but it doesn’t erase any of the guilt she still carries today. Far from it—that guilt has only grown to be bigger, looming over her as if it were ready to consume every inch of her body and spit out a bag of bones.

This situation, though, she can’t help but feel that her guilt isn’t quite as misplaced as she likes to convince herself it is.

They were all having lunch at the ferry’s restaurant; it’s small, given how little people want to go all the way out to Okinawa, but it’s still selling ludicrously overpriced coffee and pastries. Nobody seems to mind, though. All of them were sharing one cheese omelette, each with a plastic fork in hand, tapping them against each other to get the best piece and assert dominance like animals at a watering hole.

A way to soothe guilt is to somehow find a way to remedy the situation. Employees of Big Bang Burger have been unionized, her father is now remembered for the man he was rather than the man he became, Sugimura has long since been a problem (how he stopped being a problem, she legally cannot speak about), and Shido isn’t even in the public’s conscious anymore.

But for Ryuji, there is no way to soothe that guilt. Not in a way that matters.

It’s not just because Haru had essentially been the reason why too many people know his secret, but because the secret should have never happened in the first place. She’s his senpai, she was supposed to be the one looking out for him. Ryuji was struggling, mentally and academically, and she hadn’t realized it until it was far too late. He had been there for her, ready to knock Sugimura’s teeth into his throat, but she couldn’t have done the same for him when it truly mattered.

How do you soothe that guilt? Buy out the entire school? Forge his grades? More cram books? That’s ridiculous.

There’s no way to soothe that guilt, she realizes, because the only real way to do that was to turn back time.

—

Kitagawa Yusuke understands pride better than most people.

Without a cent to his name for most of his life, pride was all he had. Pride of being the pupil of someone great, pride of turning money away in the name of art. Being able to withstand enormous pressure and stick to his guns has always been one of his strongest abilities.

They’re in the Okinawa jail, tearing through Shadows and screaming Sophia’s name, over and over again until all of their throats are torn raw. He calls for Goemon, and ice crawls over the narrow corridors of the facility like ants covering every inch of a buffet. They’re all strong, because they have to be, but the Shadows here are cunning; fast and magic-infused, drunk on the strange, thick air that’s bled into every inch of cement in this building.

But pride can be an unforgiving catalyst that can change you from the inside out, like a parasite hijacking your brain stem and compels you to bow down to it. He had refused to see the truth, turned a blind eye to the evils of his sensei, and it made him into a lesser version of himself. It had made him weaker.

A crack of lightning strikes, emanating light so bright that he instinctively raises a hand to block it out. When it dims, any smell of the cold, dry air is gone—in its place is the distinct scent of ozone wafting around him, and a light buzz that settles atop his skin like a second layer. The hair on his nape stands, but Yusuke’s positive it didn’t come from the electricity still buzzing from the ashes of the Shadows.

Ryuji had obliterated all of their foes with one, clean strike.

—

Takamaki Ann can tell that something’s off.

Her toes are buried deep in hot sand, taking refuge under their big umbrella. The sun is just about setting over the horizon, casting an orange glow on her skin, and she idly hopes that she had put on enough sunscreen. They’ve tired themselves out for the most part; some were taking naps on beach towels, some had retired back to the RV where air conditioning awaits them.

Only Akira and Ryuji were left, standing where the sand meets the tide, water lapping at their ankles. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she recognized the look on Akira’s face—with his glasses hanging from his button up, his eyes sparkled brighter than the ocean does, not quite smiling but his lips are curled up as if unable to completely restrain itself. It’s the look he reserves for Ryuji.

She digs her feet deeper into the sand, enjoying the way it tickles her calves. Ann’s been thinking about this whole thing in her head ever since she found out the truth, and something just isn’t adding up.

As absolutely insane as it all is, if she closes one eye, tilts her head, and slams her head against a wall, she can sort of, kind of, maybe understand where he’s coming from. She’s known him too long not to. The whole actively lying to his friends thing is still unforgivable, but the need to hide it? Understandable. She barely scraped by second-year herself with a prayer and English-speaking parents, and even then her grades are nothing to write home about.

Ann could barely believe that Ryuji really thought that Akira would leave him over something as stupid as flunking school, but even that she can understand, too. Everyday, she wants to be a better person for Shiho, and everyday, she goes to bed thinking that she didn’t try hard enough. Ann gets it. Love screws with your brain, swirls it up until you can barely stand up straight, and definitely messes with your perception of yourself. Ridiculous, crazy, but still somewhat coherent.

There’s still one piece in this whole puzzle that hasn’t clicked yet, and it’s been bugging her ever since that night in the cafe.

As perceptive as he is, as smart and observant and unstoppable as he is, as kind and knowledgeable as he is, as much as he adores Ryuji to the moon and back—

Why hasn’t Akira said anything yet?

—

Sakura Futaba knows that something’s off.

As the navigator, she sees everything she needs to make sure her team makes it out of every battle alive and victorious. Necronomicon can see stuff that no one else can, can predict two, three, four moves before it can happen. She eats stats for breakfast and spits out results by second breakfast. She knows her team’s moveset like the back of her hand and then some. Futaba takes this seriously, because if she doesn’t, someone’s not walking out alive.

The best part is that she’s good at this. So good that the eternal worrywart, Joker himself, can still walk out of the Metaverse with a head of thick, black hair.

But something’s been off. She felt it in her bones and that feeling only gets more prominent with every passing Jail—no, not even Jail. With every battle, that feeling only gets stronger in her gut.

When it started is still a mystery to her, but she started picking up on it in Sapporo. Sapporo. Her mom told her never to pray, but by god she’s hoping that it started in Sapporo, because this—this thing, is too big to have missed.

Futaba isn’t sure what it is yet, but she has no idea what’s happening with Ryuji.

To be more specific, she has no idea what’s happening with Captain Kidd, but that’s basically the same thing; Personas are the extension of the user, I am thou, et cetera. The weirdest part is, she knows something’s off, but she doesn’t know if it’s necessarily a problem.

It’s as if Ryuji’s been hitting the gym while they weren’t looking, or giving Kidd a stern talking to. His attacks, which used to be around the same baseline as the rest of the team, is nearly outputting double the amount of damage than the rest of them. His hits are buffed to the wazoo on a level she’s never seen before in any other Persona user, even Akira.

She’s considered bringing it up with him dozens of times. The two of them have to be honest with each other, not because they love and respect each other or any of that bullcrap—it’s because it’s the only way anything can ever function in the team. Between the navigator and the leader, if they ever hide anything from the other, no matter how small, things would never run smoothly. Or worse: it’ll crash and burn.

And then Ryuji comes along and makes them all take a blood oath to never, ever tell Akira a really big secret.

Technically, she doesn’t see an issue with it. It’s more of an unspoken rule than any kind of signed contract, and it’s mostly about Metaverse stuff instead of real world problems. She’s not eagerly telling Akira about her private Pixiv account or anything. But it’s not impossible to think that Ryuji being strong enough to be wearing ten Gilded Vests stacked on top of each other is somehow connected to his very real, very heart-affecting situation. If she really thought it was a problem, she’d tell Akira right away. It’s better to have Ryuji hate her than to have him dead.

But when she sees Akira’s face flash with relief in Akane’s Jail when Ryuji all but annihilates a mega-super-high level Shadow, one that Akira’s been stressing about the entire time since they’ve been here despite him trying his best to act cool about it because he has to be, it’s kinda hard to consider this to be a problem at all.

—

Between Konoe’s attacks and relentless bolts of ions getting shot up every few seconds, the static is so thick in the air that their hairs are all frayed and heading skywards.

The blast from Konoe’s mech, once a symbol of their triumph and had pulled no small amount of whoops and cheers from their throats, is only the first stage of their fated battle. They hadn’t planned for an extra phase, and the only reason they were able to escape was that steam from the busted metal and machinery had given them a few seconds of cover.

All of them are huddled behind a wall, outlined with neon blue that only served to blend them in with the futuristic technicholar that is the Osaka Jail.

“We’re clear,” Makoto announces, voice low as she returns from peeking around the corner. “No chance he knows our location.”

“Thank you Queen,” Akira says, mask pushed far up his head, clear eyes rapidly checking over each of his teammates, nodding. “Good work out there with the mech, now let’s figure this one out. What do we know?”

“Not a lot,” Futaba’s goggles reflect data as her fingers dance over the screen. “If we assumed that his weaknesses would be the same as his mech, then it would be lightning and nuclear.”

“Only if we assume that his physical form reflects his robotic form,” Yusuke points out. “What are the odds that that’s the case?”

Morgana taps his paw on the ground, deep in thought. “High, I’d say. Remember, he didn’t even think anyone could actually get into his Jail. He was worried enough to give himself two forms, but I doubt he’d go much deeper than that in terms of protection.”

“Look, my math might be a little off,” Ryuji starts. “But it’s literally a ten-on-one, right? I vote we kick his ass from the get go.”

Akira grips his arm. “Don’t. It might be a ten-on-one, but I don’t want to be walking out of here with only nine or less. We take this slow, like we always do.”

“...Fine.”

“What I’m worried about is that big sword of his,” Ann says grimly. “It looks like one hit from that thing I can kiss my entire torso goodbye.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Eyes flickering to Futaba, Akira asks, “Possible defenses?”

“I’m not seeing anything special from it other than it’s huge and sharp and could kill us if he really wanted to, which, he does. So it looks like it’s physical, unless he has something up his sleeve.”

“Which he probably does, because that’s just how things usually go for us,” Ann sighs.

“We’ll go with what we know.” Akira gets on his feet, taking another peek, black coattails swishing around his ankles. With blood-red hands he pulls his mask back down, and they all straighten up. His voice is barely above a mutter, but they all catch every word he says. “Panther, how’s your energy?”

“Nearly full,” she answers.

“Use Concentrate on Queen and Skull on their call, double their magical attack whenever you can. I know it takes awhile to reuse when you’re using it for anyone but yourself, but try your best. Ryuji, how you holding up?”

“Like everything’s zero gravity, leader.”

“Then I want you to do the same with Charge for Fox, Noir, and yourself. Don’t overdo it though—only do it on my call.”

“Got it.”

“Sophie, Morgana: healing duty. Especially for those of you who drain your health like an open tap. Noir, try to get a vantage point and use Milady’s arsenal. Catching Konoe off guard can be what we need. Oracle, watch our backs. Everyone else, on standby. Are we all clear?”

With a nod, Akira takes a deep breath. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

He takes the first step, knowing full well that ten more are right behind him.

The minute Konoe spots where they were hiding, he takes a slow pace towards them, confident in his own abilities. He swings his lightsaber around him with ease, footsteps heavy and sure.

They take his lethargy to their advantage. “Split!” Akira calls, and immediately they head to where they need to be. “Let’s take this nice and—”

In a split second, the unhurried pace that Konoe was taking dissipates and he dashes forward, a blur to their eyes, heading straight for Ann, who just barely dodges out of the way.

“What the hell?!”

“He’s fucking fast now!”

“This guy’s speed just cranked up!” Futaba yells. “If he could do that without me even realizing it, then who knows—”

“Stay sharp, we know what we’re doing.”

“How on earth are you still so calm, Joker?!”

“Because I believe in all of you.” Dashing left, he brushes his mask. “Neko Shogun, help me out.” A black cat with eyes bigger than his hand materializes from the monochrome mask, and they all suddenly feel lighter on their feet, ready to dodge anything that comes their way. “Queen, Skull.”

“Roger that!”

Makoto scales one of the neon walls, grip strength insurmountable, and runs across the wires that are tied from each platform, boots barely touching the cord, before jumping down. “Johanna!”

An explosion, or something more akin to a nuclear bomb getting set off mere meters in front of them, occurs where Makoto lands, hitting Konoe head-on.

He staggers back, obviously shaken but he recovers quickly. Lightsaber buzzing red, he’s about to strike at her when she hops on the back of Johanna, engine revving. “Lucky us, he’s weak to nuclear.”

Ryuji hops on his feet, hyping himself up. “Not all of us have cars for a quick getaway,” he snarks, before he’s gone, sprinting so fast that he’s nearly a blur to anyone looking his way. Racing behind a wall, he gets the jump on Konoe. “Come on out, Captain!”

A storm brews even without a single cloud over them as ozone reeks and lightning strikes, the deafening sound of thunder makes their ears ring.

“Holy crap,” Futaba breathes.

“Is he weak?” he asks.

“Uh,” Ann says. Konoe uses his lightsaber as a makeshift cane to get himself on his feet, shaking his head aggressively. “Yeah, I’d say he’s weak to it.”

“Comms are set,” Futaba announces. “Noir, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Oracle,” a bright voice chirps in their ears. “Joker, it’s an easy shot.”

“Take it.”

“With your help, Milady.”

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rings out, and their heads swivel to see if it hit, but there’s no one there.

“What the...?” Ann wildly spins around, eyes widening. “Sophie—!”

Without turning her head back, Sophia instinctively ducks sideways, bits of red locks falling to the ground as Konoe’s lightsaber slices through the edges of her hair, and again when it grazes past her head, and another when it slices through the metal flooring like it was butter.

Panic grips her. “Pithos!” Sophia shrieks, voice high with fear. Blinding light shines from her hands, but Konoe walks into it like it was nothing.

Yusuke grips his katana, and silent as a gust of wind on a winter’s night, cuts through the air in front of him to deliver a myriad of slashes over Konoe. It does little to him, but it’s jarring enough that Sophia can escape where she was cornered.

“He’s very speedy,” Sophia says shakily. “Thank you, Fox.”

He nods, touching his mask in preparation. “That speed is nothing to jest about.”

“And we can’t do anything about it by just standing here! Makoto, back me up here.” Ann throws her mask in the air. “Carmen!”

“Find me an opening, and I’ll handle the rest,” Haru’s voice crackles.

“She’s right.” Akira touches his mask as it burns bright with the strength of dozens, maybe even hundreds of Personas. “She needs cover, and we need the element of surprise. Fox, Morgana.”

“Not a word more.”

“You got it!”

Ann takes a leaf from Makoto’s book, using her whip to grapple herself onto a ledge, running to take the high point behind Konoe, grazing Haru’s shoulder on the way there.

Konoe turns, but before he can take a counter measure, Akira calls out: “King Frost.”

At the same time, Yusuke says, voice loud and clear: “Goemon!”

Together, pillars of ice, meters and meters high surround Konoe, high enough that he can’t see anything past a few feet. But that height comes with a price; they can only make it so thick, and the lightsaber didn’t hesitate to crush it into bits.

“Panther, we don’t have too much time.” Already, sweat begins to pool and roll down Akira’s skin, using up his magic rapidly. “Are you in position?”

“Just—” she hops, heels clicking rapidly against the floor. “—About! Ten seconds!”

“We can hold it. Sophia, stay close on standby.”

“Understood!”

Motorcycle wheels screech next to Ryuji, and he doesn’t hesitate to hop on the back before they’re off again, leaving tire marks where they skirted off. “I swear to god, you play the racing games in the arcade. How the hell else would you get so good at this?”

“Would you shut up?” Makoto snaps.

“Roger that.”

“I’m in position!” Ann announces. She’s almost directly on top of the ice pillar. “On your signal.”

Gritting his teeth, Akira wipes the sweat away. “Hold.”

Yusuke swivels his head to him, knees shaking. “I can hold for as long as you need me to, but I might not be as much use afterwards.”

“It’s fine.” His eyes narrow at Konoe, still tearing through their ice blockade as the pile of shards only gets higher and higher. “Just a little bit longer. Sophia, use the biggest, most pinpoint bless move you have on my word.”

“Yes,” she responds, before hesitating. “He’s immune to it, I’m afraid.”

“I know.” Even Akira sounds breathless, his footing becoming unsteady.

“Joker, you don’t have much left,” Futaba warns. “You better hope this ends things, or we’re gonna have a real big problem on our hands.”

Once the shards of ice have piled high enough that it would surpass Konoe’s height twice over, and despite his hands beginning to turn blue, Akira's grin is wide. “Three—”

Yusuke’s vision begins to blur, but he refuses to relinquish Goemon.

“Two—”

Haru rearranges her finger on the trigger, palms drenched in sweat but they don’t shake. Not anymore.

“One—”

Ann takes a few steps back, sucking in a breath before sprinting forward, jumping straight over the open-chasm of ice and death beneath her.

“Now!”

Carmen releases a blaze of flame intense enough to encompass an entire neighborhood and then some, taking the shards and bits of ice that was piled high on top of each other and turning it into a cloud of fog and hot mist, shooting straight up and turning the visibility of the whole area to zero.

Yusuke crumbles to his knees as Ann tucks and rolls onto the floor, hissing as she feels her ankle twist into something nasty. “Shit!”

Akira staggers back, gripping his head like it hurts for him to stand, but that doesn’t stop him from yelling out: “Sophia!”

“Makougan!”

Like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm, there shines a beam of light so bright, so concentrated into one area, that they all know exactly where to aim their fire.

It all comes tumbling down, a perfectly set-up domino trap; Haru pulls trigger after trigger, bullet shells flying, ignoring the way her shoulder is inching further and further from where it’s supposed to be by taking the brunt of the recoil. Ryuji hops off the bike, crossing his arms in front of him calling two, three, four bolts as Makoto calls another nuclear blast.

From inside the whirlpool of thick clouds, where the fog is most dense, a figure sways, coughing and lurching forwards and back, trying desperately to escape.

“Oh no you don’t! Zorro!”

Wind, so thick you can almost see it, swirls around most of the mist, locking it in and dragging everyone else’s attacks right in the center.

Futaba’s clacking can be heard even now. “He’s losing health fast! Eighty percent, seventy percent, sixty—”

The ground trembles ominously.

“What in the world…?” Yusuke pants from the ground, elbows barely able to keep his torso up.

It happens again, stronger this time.

“Fifty, forty—” she continues, voice small and desperate. “Thirty! Twenty!”

Akira presses his palm against the ground, eyes closed before snapping open. Despite his exhaustion, he compels himself to stand, arms outstretched defensively. “Guard!”

They do so, and a streak of pure light flickers from the inside, before rapidly getting larger and larger until it turns into a scintillating sphere that grew and pulsed, eating up everything in its wake and blowing away the captivating fog. Try as they might, there’s nothing they can do to stand up against a Megidolaon.

Bruised and battered, Konoe stands tall as the Phantom Thieves can do nothing but look up from the ground, energy and options all but dried up until neither was left.

—

“Stop, I can walk, let me up—”

“Panther, stop struggling, your ankle is already too injured to—”

“Fuck! Oracle, does he know where we are?”

“Not yet; looks like that vanish ball Joker threw out gave us some cover but it’ll last for a way shorter time considering he blew through our plan in less than—”

“Whoa, Fox, you’re not looking good.”

“I’m afraid I can’t keep going, everyone. Goemon has reached his limit, but I don’t necessarily need him to keep fighting. Judging by my vision, however, my accuracy might be much lower than usual.”

“Man, shut up and stay down.”

“Sophia? Can you hear us?”

“Yes, but—ow!”

“Okay, stop moving, you’re only going to make it worse.”

“Joker, we still have plenty of items that we’ve accumulated from previous Jails. We don’t have much time before he can find us again, but if we put our heads together—”

“Are you talking about the scraps of grilled corn and the three life stones we have left? It would be suicide. We have to go in, guns blazing. It’s the only way it can work.”

“You’re talking about suicide, Mona, and the ‘guns blazing’ strategy you’re talking about would be literally lead to us serving our heads on a silver platter.”

“So what’s your plan, Queen? I’m all ears, I’m serious.”

“G-guys, stop fighting! We’ve barely got enough time as is. Just let me scan—”

“We’re pulling back.”

All eyes turn to Akira, posture straight despite the sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead. It’s obvious how he was barely able to stand.

Ryuji takes a step forward. “Are you crazy?”

"More than half of us are running on fumes, and half of those people are injured to the point where they can barely keep going. Our plan was shattered like it was nothing, he has a super move that’s so powerful that it tears through our defenses like tissue paper. We’re retreating.”

“Like hell we are! Do you know what’s gonna happen if we leave?”

“We heal our injuries, we get more items, we prepare better this time, and we come up with a better plan.”

“And that gives that bastard—” he jerks his thumb behind him. “The exact same advantage.”

“And what advantage do we have?” Akira’s voice is calm but they all feel the edge to it. “Who can even fight?”

“I can,” Morgana answers quietly. “He takes wind like concrete, though.”

“So can I. However, I can’t do as much as I normally can.” Haru rolls her shoulder, wincing. “I may have dislocated my shoulder earlier.”

“And me, obviously,” Ryuji finishes. “That’s nearly an entire team. We even have support and a distance shooter, and Futaba’s still in this too, so—”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no,” he says, hard. “Don’t be stubborn about this. You know damn well why we can’t.”

Akira turns on his heel, only the slightest wobble in his movements. “Let’s move out. We only have thirty seconds left before the vanish ball wears off.”

“We’re not leaving.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Is it because you’re not on the team?”

A hush falls on them, and for a second, everyone forgets that they were even in the middle of a battle.

Akira glances back, hair covering his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Ryuji takes another step forward, chin tilted up. “That you don’t think that we can handle this without you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it really? When was that last time you weren’t on the A team, Joker? Does anyone remember?” He glances at the rest of them. “Anyone? No? Yeah, I figured.”

He stares at him. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“I just don’t like that you’re implying that I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Ryuji…” Ann tries quietly.

“Yourself?” He faces him, expression blank. “I thought this was about the team.”

“And I’m part of the team, ain’t I?”

“You’re not dragging the rest of them into your petty, nonsensical argument, Skull,” Akira goes toe-to-toe with him, neither one blinking. “That’s final.”

“You know it would be dumb as shit to give that guy even more time to prepare. It’s like Shido—he was the toughest guy we went up against because he gave himself a billion counter measures since he knew we were coming. Konoe barely knew jack but he handed our asses to us. We finish this now or we don’t finish this at all.”

“I’d rather lose the battle than lose my friends,” he hisses. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“You’re too fucking blind to see that this is more than just us, leader,” Ryuji spits the word. “I can do it—no, I will do it.”

Akira grabs the bandana around his neck. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he says through gritted teeth. “But you’re not going anywhere near Konoe.”

But it’s useless, and they both know it—Akira’s far too drained and Ryuji’s far too strong for it to be much more than an empty threat.

Ryuji wraps his fingers around his wrist. “I’ll prove to you that I can fucking do this,” his grip is tight, before forcibly peeling Akira’s grasp from him. “Believe in me. I’m strong, Akira.”

“Don’t do this.” Any anger from his words dissipates, and desperation takes its place. “I’m commanding you, as the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts—do not do this.”

With a wide grin and lightning behind his eyes, Ryuji’s gone, and Akira’s hand is grasping thin air.

“Fuck,” he clutches at his head, body shaking with exertion. “Fuck.”

“Oh my god,” Makoto breathes. “He’s going to fight Konoe alone.”

“Over my dead body,” Akira touches his mask. “Come out, Yoshits—” Before he can finish, a gutteral sound from deep in his throat cuts him off, and he crashes ungracefully on the ground. “God dammit.”

Makoto shakes herself out of her stupor, taking a deep breath. “Alright, we can’t leave Skull. We’ll work with what we have.” Instinctively, she looks to Akira for advice, but his eyes are glazed over. Whether or not it’s from exhaustion or shock from what happened, she doesn’t know. “Noir, range attack. Shoot down the broken limbs from the mech, pray it still has nuclear running through its pipes. Mona, you’ll be on the support. Noir is already down in health, and Lord knows Skull’s going to need it. I’m down energy wise, but I have a good visual from above.” Eyes sliding sideways. “Oracle?”

“Comms are set up, I’m scanning for weaknesses, and Skull’s almost there,” she replies instantly. “If you’re going to join him, it’s now or never.”

“Alright.” Makoto swallows. “Everyone else, stay back. You two—go.” Morgana and Noir dart out.

“Thank you,” Akira says quietly. “I was just…out of it.”

“You don’t have to explain. That was…” she trails off when he looks up at her. His gaze in the Metaverse is sharp, always sharp, but now they’re dull. From knives to pebbles.

“Why did he do this?” he whispers. “What did I do wrong?”

The floor begins to rumble again, and they all lean over the edge to watch the battle playout.

“Everyone’s in position,” Yusuke narrates with a frown. “I don’t doubt Skull’s skill, but even at our full power, Konoe couldn’t be beaten.”

“He’s there,” Makoto says, and Akira watches, perfectly still. “He’s about to hit first.”

Ann leans forward, as they all did, at how Ryuji calls Kidd, voice ringing so loud they can hear it from where they sat on top of a wall. “Can he really do it?”

“Well,” Futaba heaves a deep sigh. “He’s right that this is probably our best shot, considering that we already got Konoe down to twenty percent of his health.”

Captain Kidd materializes, and his cannon is leaning back, glowing with power, and Konoe takes a step sideways, about to dodge.

“But Ryuji isn’t the same fighter that he was before.”

Instead of shooting forward, the cannon is swiftly raised skyward and thunder cracks before lightning strikes Konoe, followed by Ryuji lifting his pipe and slamming it straight into his skull and dodging just as another Megidolaon grows where he stood.

All of them stare, wide-eyed, at the spectacle before them like it was a sporting match; a back and forth happens, where Konoe would use his immense speed and power to try and get the leg up on Ryuji, but he would only hit thin air as he dodges and parries, shifting and ducking with a finesse they’ve never seen before, calling up Kidd and using electricity so potent that they feel can its static. Konoe grips his saber and swings and swings, triple-attack rolled into one but everytime he tries he only gets cut off when Ryuji slams his hand into the ground and calls dozens of wildly waving purple hands, each of them clawing at Konoe mercilessly.

“I knew he was stronger than he was before,” Makoto’s eyes are wide with wonder. “But it's like I don’t even recognize him.”

Ions and plasma strike as lightning meets saber, causing a violent cascade of sparks to fly frantically around the two of them. Bullets ring out whenever Konoe takes a step back, only to send him flying as a mini nuclear blast explodes behind him; Haru’s aim is impeccable.

This dance plays out for a long time, with Ryuji calling earth-shaking attacks and dancing around Megidolaons while Haru finds weak spots.

“Has he grown even faster?” Yusuke wonders aloud.

Futaba is struggling to watch all the data, attention straying to watch the fight. “He’s shaved off another ten percent off his health!”

“He’s incredible,” Ann says, awe-struck. “Isn’t he, Joker? He’s totally kicking his ass, pretty much by himself.”

“There’s something wrong.”

She peels her eyes away from below to stare at him, perplexed. “Things couldn’t be any better.”

Akira’s eyes are trained on Ryuji, on the way he’s limboing, countering every single attack rather than guarding. “I’ve seen his style since the very first day he got his Persona, and I’ve never seen him dodge so fluently. So desperately,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Something changed. And I didn’t notice.”

“Guys, am I crazy,” Morgana’s voice crackles in their ear. “Or is he really, really good at dodging attacks? I’ve only healed Noir this entire time, and she’s not even down there.”

“I just think he’s being cautious,” Haru replies, cocking her gun before continuing her assault. “Oracle? Report, please.”

“Five percent left,” they all hear the grin in her voice. “He’s actually going to do it.”

“Panther.” Ann blinks at Akira. “Help me up.”

She does, pushing his shoulders up until he’s sitting straight. “Needed a better view of him being a badass?” she teases.

Instead of answering, his gaze focuses, irises turning into a bright shade of blue.

Third eye, she registers with surprise. “We already know his stats.”

“I don’t care about Konoe’s,” his brow furrows slightly. “I care about his.”

“Two percent!” Futaba calls gleefully.

Suddenly, air catches in Akira’s throat. “What?” Ann startles.

“His endurance,” his voice shakes so intensely that she almost can’t understand what he’s saying. “His endurance.”

“What? What does that mean? Joker?” He tries pushing himself on his feet, crumbling and spewing obscenities when he can’t. “What are you doing? There’s nothing you can do, and Mona’s already got the healing taken care of.”

“One percent!”

The look in Akira’s eye is wild, and he’s paler than she’s ever seen him—whiter than when he came back from the interrogation room, and it’s enough to make her stomach drop all the way to the ground. “By the time they heal him, it’ll be too late.”

Everyone cheers and they both turn their attention back to the battle below them, where Ryuji summons one last bolt at Konoe, and finally, it’s enough to take him down.

Ryuji turns his back to Konoe, arms raised in triumph and drenched in sweat, immense pride clear on his expression.

It all happens in slow motion.

Akira jumps down, ignoring the protests from above, limping and scrambling towards Ryuji. Behind him, Konoe tries for one last, desperate attempt to win by swinging his saber weakly at Ryuji’s ankles, grazing his flesh ever so slightly.

“No!” Akira cries out.

Despite the cut being as shallow as a paper cut and as wide as a bee’s sting, Ryuji crumples to the ground, all life seeped out of him like he was struck through the heart.

#p5 #p5s #mine #fic tag #plainly in truth #persona 5 #persona 5 strikers #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #akiryu #pegoryu #chapter four...how the time flies

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willow-the-wisp-13 · 2 years

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Cruel Story of Youth

We made it to films in color! Yay for the 60s! I really appreciated the color symbolism woven throughout this movie - I think it is a great place to start for color film since it is clear the director and designers put a lot of intentional thought into the choices they made regarding color.

One element of this film that I enjoyed was the symbolism tied to the apples that Kiyoshi is seen eating and giving to Makoto. During the scene with the apples, Kiyoshi is seen biting into the apple and eating it for a long extended shot. I took this shot to mean that Kiyoshi has fully given into the temptations of money. This becomes apparent especially when in the next scene Kiyoshi appears wearing bright green for his apple and Makoto wears bright red for hers. I believe that the green in Kiyoshi’s apple and costume symbolize how he is tempted and gives into his greed for money. Makoto on the other hand is seen with the red apple and in a red dress. To me, this symbolizes her desire for love and affection that blinds and tempts her to do illegal actions for the man she fell for. I also would like to point out that the patterns on both of their costumes are white. I believe this is significant in showing that they are still young and naïve and not actually evil - while they might have made bad choices, I think it’s clear that they are not necessarily bad people, simply the products of the machine of society taken to an extreme.

It is also worth noting that after the jail scene where Kiyoshi’s mistress bails him out, Kiyoshi stops wearing the green shirt and instead begins wearing white. This specifically represents how he has changed and left his greed behind. He no longer seeks to make money through less than legal means. Consequently, Makoto has not changed her outfit, symbolizing that she is still searching for the love and affection she craves. The fact that she is still chasing after Kiyoshi and then also begins hitchhiking with strangers again shows that she is still using this to fill the hole she feels - even if it is ultimately her downfall.

This also probably has no deeper meaning, but I found it interesting that in the film Late Chrysanthemum, the son who was having an affair with a married woman who gave him money was also named Kiyoshi - same as the male protagonist in this film. I wondered briefly if they might have been based on the same character from one of the short stories.

Also a side tangent but the costume department clearly had a fun time with this film. I think I physically laughed when I saw the guy on the right appear for the first time in the film because I felt like the costume department said “ah yes, let’s make a punk / gang member with as much criminal themed costume elements as possible.” Costume design makes looking at characters something you can read and be literate in. But back to this well dressed punk, not only did the costume designers put him in a bright red jacket to automatically make us wary of him and to associate him with possible blood and violence. What really sets this costume design over the top though is his vertical striped shirt. The image above makes it a little hard to see, but his undershirt is comprised of vertical dark striped that look like a jail bar motif - essentially telling the viewer “hey! I definitely have a criminal record and I'm about to do something bad!”

Additionally (though you’ll have to fact check me on this one because I can’t quite remember all of the scenes) I think Kiyoshi is only seen as wearing a pure white shirt in the very beginning of the movie and in the end. All the other instances he is either wearing a color or an off-white cream shirt (that towel-like textured one). In costume design it is pretty common to make use of white vs off-white purposeful in main characters so that you can see where their morals lie. Kiyoshi is seen as morally ambivalent until meeting the gang and then throughout the film spirals until his wake up call in prison which sends him back to wearing his original white shirt.

And with that I will end this long rant about color theory in costume design - I am looking forward to analyzing more costume design choices in color films!

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mysticdragon3md3 · 5 years

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md3 watches P5A Dark Sun

(If you like Akechi, don’t read my episode reactions under the cut.)

So finally, we’re at all these scenes that are supposed to give Akechi's backstory and were no doubt the parts that made his fangirls think he's just a "cinnamon roll who did nothing wrong", etc. But I didn't feel any sympathy for him. He said at one point during the fight that he was Ren's rival. And that's what he seems like: the typical anime rival character. Though truthfully, I've found a lot more of those rivals to be cool, but there have been a good half of them that I still perceive as jerks that I don't really sympathize with. That latter is Akechi. So I don't think it's weird to re-live all his "sympathetic" scenes and still not sympathize with him.

All those scenes did was prove to me, once again, that Ryuji is a much better Man than me and a very good boy. He was the first one to refute Akechi's own self-deprecations. He was the first one to call out to Akechi, when he slammed the ship's doors between them.

Once again, the animation of this series is so minimal that there just isn't enough interesting direction to make up for it. A-1 Pictures always makes series that are fairly pretty, satisfactory, the normal level. But sometimes they produce really meh series. o_o; We all know they can do good stuff, but when all their series look nice in the stills, then you get to watching and the direction/animation is just blah, it kinda hurts. x_x

How long is this? Holy smack! This is a 51 minute episode? I know this is an OAV, but I thought it was being used to cap the series, so it'd be just like an normal series episode length. o_O

It all gets too real when Shido says, "Then why was I chosen? Why are they surrendering the seat of prime minister to me? Everyone denies the value of hard work these days. Instead, they seek to effortlessly gain wealth. That is why I must reestablish this mighty country. One that does not waver. One that others will bow to." (First, jeeze, he really does just imagine everyone clapping for him whenever he wants. What a narcissist!) It's scary because there are real politicians like that. And talk about projection and blind to your own faults. He seriously thinks all the answers to his rhetorical questions just now are “because I’m the best”. They just said a few scenes ago that Shido is advancing in the polls because he sabotaged all his rivals/opponents. And he was the one turning “mental shutdowns” and “psychotic breakdowns” into a mercenary business to fund his campaign, instead of doing the actual hard work to earn support legally. And if I have to hear another politician---even a fictional one---say they want to put their country above all others while implying all other countries are inferior, instead of equal---!!! BLAHRG!!! Have had too much of that in the real world. Well, at least in anime and videogames, people like that get defeated in boss battles.

Morgana’s attack really was framed as hurting Shido a lot. ^u^ Ryuji got hit! ;O;!!!!!!!!!! The ironic thing is, he's probably the one that can take the most physical damage and still fight. He’s so reliable. But I’m glad everyone came to protect him while he was down.

They left out the teddy bear barrage from Alice's attack. But I still like how Shido underestimated her, then she got really creepy.

"Is this all you've got? Checkmate. You're not even in my league." Were those lines in the game too? I really like them. ^__^ Really helps out headcanons where Akira becomes a politician in the future.

Ryuji's big scene! ^u^ Of course it was better in the game, but I will watch as many versions of this scene as provided! *o*

Please don't hit him. Please don't hit him. Please don't hit him. Please don't hit him. Please don't hit him. Oh thank the gods, they just yelled at him! And after he said to Ann, "But your cryin' face aint' so cute," it felt at least a little more justified. Thank you, director for cutting off their yelling at him too. This is a better version than the game! ;U;

I like that the scene divided the emotional characters from the calmer ones. While Ann, Haru, and Futaba are crying and yelling at Ryuji, Makoto, Yusuke, Ren, and Morgana are just smiling, happy he's alive and they all can be silly together again.

I know this ending credits sequence is just a walk cycle and Futaba's posing seems a little odd (or in character?), but I love Morgana hopping up and down throughout it. ^-^! And I love seeing all the Phantom Thieves smiling together. ^-^

Do all OAVs have after-credits scenes now?

Another thing that's too real. Shido confesses and everyone doesn't believe it. Especially the part where someone in the crowd shouted, "They must have trapped him!" Ug. That would totally happen in real life. And likely already has. ~_____~;

8:00 PM 5/25/2019 The end. For now.

Got a souvenir. ^_^

#reactions #md3 watches persona 5 the animation #get out of here akechi #ryuji is a good boy #anime adaptation #differences

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artificervaldi · 6 years

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I was gonna write fics for the last day of Persona Week but that fell through because of... Reasons. So Instead, have a post about an AU.

So, Persona AU that’s basically a mix between those cop dramas on TV and a buddy-cop comedy movie. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that it’ll involve characters involved in the legal system/medical field mostly.

I mean, I could give everyone a role in this, but seeing as I don’t wanna get attached enough to write for it... We’ll stick to (some of) the characters involved in the legal system/medical field (ones I can come up with headcanons for, anyway)

Not accurate to real crime solving because, um, it’s based of things like buddy-cop comedies and the like.

So, this post’ll include: Maki Sonomura, Katsuya Suou, Tatsuya Suou, Akihiko Sanada, Naoto Shirogane, Chie Satonaka, Ryotaro Dojima, Tohru Adachi, Goro Akechi, Sae Niijima, and Tae Takemi!

Maki Sonomura:

Therapist who doesn’t exactly directly work on most cases with the police. Often supplies therapy for victims of crimes that do not result in their death.

Drinks with Katsuya and Tatsuya on occasion. Tries to give advice when they’re stumped on a case (the advice usually ends up helping them, too. No one knows why her advice is so good).

Friends with Tae due to chronic health problems. Tae’s medication usually keeps her out of the hospital. They don’t mention it to any of the legal team in this AU.

Lives with Eriko and Yukino in an apartment near her office.

Katsuya Suou:

Police Detective who isn’t the type to give up on a case when one is given to him. Overworks himself often, despite the worry his coworkers voice at this.

His bosses don’t seem to take him seriously, no matter how hard he works. Been at the station longest and is still the one sent out on silly errands.

Knows Maya and Ohya due to often having to chase them off from crime scenes. Gets pulled into drinking and chatting with them more often than he’d like to admit.

Lives with his brother in an apartment. Might as well live in the station at times.

Tatsuya Suou:

A normal cop, often tries to be quick to respond to emergencies when he can. Not good at dealing with the press, but is decent with civilians.

Goes on errands with Katsuya when he can squeeze it it. It’s about the only time the brothers can bond when things are getting hectic at the station.

Friends with Jun, Lisa, Eikichi, and Anna. Tries to keep them away from his work as much as possible. When really stressed he might even avoid his friends.

Lives with his brother in an apartment. Sometimes crashes at friends’ places when he doesn’t want to make the trip back.

Akihiko Sanada:

A police officer who likes to be the first on scene when he can. Always looks for those in need and tries his best to keep any causalities to a minimum when it comes down to it.

Chie’s partner, been working a little longer and doesn’t know what to think of her antics at times. Other times he’s just as bad as she is and they both end up getting scolded.

Friends with government agents Mitsuru and Aigis, sometimes gets information from them when the leads dry up. Lies about where he gets the info, Mitsuru helps make sure the story checks out.

Married, lives with his spouse in a house. Lives fairly far from the station (spouse can be whoever you imagine, since I’m not writing this lmao. If I did write it tho, would probably be Minato as the spouse)

Naoto Shirogane:

Detective who often finds herself working with the police on tough cases. Usually not greeted with much warmth when working with them, so she tries to avoid trying to make friends.

Often looks for clues and information among the regular populace. Known for being able to use the smallest thread to find an lead that can be used. Gets caught up in it.

High school friend of Chie’s. Doesn’t know how she feels when she ends up working at the station Chie works at. It really depends on the case and Chie’s mood at the time.

Married, lives with her spouse in a nearby apartment (spouse can be whoever you imagine, since I’m not writing this lmao. If I did write it tho, would probably be Kanji as the spouse )

Chie Satonaka:

New police officer who’s way too excited to be working with Akihiko. A bit hot headed and is known for rushing into things a lot of the time. Has been scolded a lot for this.

Great with civilians. Has a huge following of women who bring her snacks and sweets at work. She doesn’t seem to be interested in actually getting to know any of them past perhaps friendship.

Admires Akihiko, Naoto, and Dojima. Always follows them around the station, as long as they don’t find a way to lose her. When they do she usually defaults to Katsuya instead.

Dating Yukiko, long distance relationship. Lives in a small apartment. (You can imagine what you want with Aki and Naoto, but YukiChie is There).

Ryotaro Dojima:

Police detective who gets more caught up in his work than Katsuya does. Has more trouble staying out of it emotionally than Katsuya does, however. It makes him blind to clear answers sometimes.

Smokes and drinks like a motherfucker. Spends a lot of time drinking with Ohya, due to them both trying to drink their stress away. This worries his daughter.

Adachi is still his partner and still gets pushed around quite a bit. Thinks Adachi transferred out of Inaba because of this pushing and will mention it often.

Lives with Nanako and Yu in a small house.

Tohru Adachi:

Police detective who transferred out of Inaba when a now cold case went unsolved. The case happened to be the deaths of Mayumi Yamano and Saki Konishi, which Adachi is actually linked to.

He seems to be hiding a lot, but only a few really notice it. The few being Katsuya, Naoto, and Goro. He’s good at dodging questions that could incriminate him, however.

Tries to be friendly with Yu and Nanako. Yu is willing to go along with it, but Nanako has no interest in playing nice with him. He acts like he doesn’t understand the dislike, when he does.

Lives in a ratty apartment far from the station.

Goro Akechi:

A detective known for solving cases that lead to political repercussions on certain parties. This is due to the fact he sets them up on behalf of Shido, in order to further his plans.

Afraid of Maki, who has taken an interest in him and has noticed something is up with him. Tries to keep her from picking at his brain too much. This also goes for Naoto and Akihiko.

Spends most of his time with Sae, working on bigger cases to help her set up evidence. Usually sets it up to ensure the outcome he wants is the outcome, Sae usually seems to be none the wiser.

Lives alone in a nice apartment. Made sure it was far from Maki’s apartment.

Sae Niijima:

Prosecutor who does her best to ignore the conspiracy she is part of in order to make it big and supply for her sister. Has lost sight of many of her morals due to this.

Often butts heads with people such as Katsuya, Akihiko, and Chie. Doesn’t see the point in relying so heavily on what they feel is the right thing in a dog-eat-dog world.

Spends a lot of time away from the station due to the stress headaches it causes her. Relies on Goro to deliver most of the information to her because of this.

Lives in a home with Makoto, doesn’t come home often.

Tae Takemi:

Medical examiner for the police. Has a fashion taste that wouldn’t point to this, but she takes her job as seriously as anyone probably should.

Used to be a practitioner, but after things fell through she changed aims and ended up working with the police. Ended up being able to thrive with the small group she got to know.

Friends with Tatsuya and Dojima, lets them vent to her while she’s doing her work. She always knows what to say and never seems to mess up on what she’s doing.

Lives in an apartment near the station.

#Persona 1 #Persona 2 #Persona 3 #Persona 4 #Persona 5 #personaweek2k17 #maki sonomura #katsuya suou #tatsuya suou #akihiko sanada #naoto shirogane #chie satonaka #ryotaro dojima #tohru adachi #goro akechi #sae niijima #tae takemi

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wildcrisis · 7 years

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BNHA OC

Ahh, I couldn’t resist, and I had to write him out. Still undecided if I want to make an RP blog for him, and I can’t draw at all so. No art but. I’ll work on that front.

So, if you’re interested reading about/RPing with a BNHA Attorney OC, click under the cut!

Name: Takahashi Lazarus

Former Given Name: Azamuku Makoto [Legally changed in adulthood]

Quirk: Lie Detection

Lazarus can activate his quirk at will -- it’s not something that is always switched “on”, so to speak.

When activated, he can detect if the person he’s directly speaking with is lying. If someone lies to Lazarus, it causes a quick, but relatively sharp and harmless pain in his head that dissipates after a moment.

If he begins to overuse and overextend his quirk, Lazarus begins to experience “false positives”. That is, he experiences the head-pain, even when someone is telling him the truth. Typically, since he’s been doing this for so long, once he gets a headache, he switches his quirk “off”.

Occupation: Defense Attorney

Age: 34

Description: (Strong inspirations are: Worick Arcangelo from Gangsta -- Yuri Petrov from Tiger and Bunny -- Vicious from Cowboy Bebop) mostly Worick tho, i am such trash

Height: 6′1″

Build: Lean

Skin Color: Pale

Eye Color: Emerald green

Hair Color: White (bleached and dyed, his natural color is a dark brown that occasionally peeks out from his roots if he’s not on top of it.)

Hair Style: Long, typically reaches his mid-back when down. Casually, he wears his hair in a messily created bun either on top of his head or on the back. When in court, he ties his hair into a neat braid. Bangs slightly past his eyes, parted in the middle when dressed casually, and pinned up with bobby pins while in court.

Clothing:

Work: SUITS. The man owns more suits than he does socks. Typically prefers darker suits (black, navy, and olive) paired with bright shirt colors and ties (pinks, lavenders, yellows, etc). Always wears a designed tie rather than a plain color. Always accompanied by a black, leather shoulder bag ready to explode with files, paperwork, his laptop, etc.

Casual: Long sleeved, button-up shirts, because he’s too lazy to own too many different styles of clothing. Leaves the top few unbuttoned. Wears all colors of the rainbow, because he only knows how to dress himself for work, and not in public. Usually jeans to match, and a pair of dark, worn boots.

Never seen without: Pain medicine (to cure his headaches from work), glasses (sitting on top of his head unless he’s reading), cigarettes.

Distinguishing marks: His right eye is blind and scarred, from an attack during his teenage, gang days. The scar is relatively short, ending just an inch below his bottom eyelid.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Personality:

In short: Casually chill, intense and scathing in court, embarrassing pro-hero fanboy (fanman?), still recovering from his former street life.

Lazarus is a fairly laid-back man, to those who simply meet him on the streets. Typically seen wearing a small, but warm smile, he’s kind to those he sees regularly on his way to work, cherishing small talk with strangers when possible. He’s polite, always one to excuse himself when in a hurry, and never failing to tip at his everyday coffee joint. All in all, from an outside, stranger’s perspective -- he’s a typical kind, but bland businessman.

However, when focusing on work, Lazarus becomes intensely focused and passionate. Protecting pro-heroes in legal matters means more to him than his own life. He can get rather intense, with his own partners, clients, and especially against the opposing council. Yet, it’s typically not from a place of malice, but simply an over-passionate heart. He owes his life to heroes, and because this is the only way he can think to repay that debt, he gives it 110%.

That being said -- he’s a bit of an embarrassing fanboy from time to time. Lazarus was not raised to love heroes, quite the contrary. He spent most of his growing life despising them, as a gangster on the streets. However, having his life saved by Pro-Heroes changed his view on them entirely, and they turned his life from scum to a somewhat respectable man of the law. So, typically, when he meets with a Pro-Hero for council, Lazarus has to contain his excitement. It’s very hard for him to not immediately screech and ask for autographs -- he’s got to be professional, dammit -- but all the pro-heroes are simply too cool.

When approaching a Pro-Hero, or their team, to offer legal services, Lazarus manages to keep his cool. He wouldn’t want to blow his chance at helping them, and always offers a lower fee than that of his competitors, because he owes heroes his life. He remains calm, collecting information as casually as he can, attempting to play on the humor of whichever hero he’s working with in order to make them as comfortable as possible. Being naturally charismatic and charming, Lazarus typically wins the approval of whoever he’s speaking with, and always promises to win his fights in court.

In court, Lazarus let’s his silver tongue do the work. His quirk is very useful during cross-examinations of witnesses, but he has to rely on his intellect in order to get the witness to reveal their lies on the stand. This often means having to piece together the witnesses true story in a very, very short period of time. After all, he can’t simply say “WELL THEY’RE LYING”, even if they are. He has to be crafty, and each word in reply has to be measured and weighed. Judges and juries have to be convinced.

And he likes to win.

Growing up in the gutters and streets gave Lazarus some strange habits that he’s never been able to shake. He’s always naturally paranoid of everyone around him; eyeing people from behind dark sunglasses to search them for suspicious behavior or potential weapons. He’s got a silver tongue, not developed by law school, but by always talking himself out of violent situations in the gang, and by using his quirk to figure out when a deal was going south. Lazarus looks over his shoulder often, knowing that his former gang-ties will come back to shank him at some point, and is always making efforts to keep his appearance changed. He’s not naive, to anyone or anything, and doesn’t trust easy. He’s one to argue, one to bargain, and occasionally, known to cheat if it’s in his benefit.

Close friends are few and far between, because of his naturally distrusting nature. However, he does cherish the few close bonds that he does have. He actually loves being around people, talking to people, experiencing life -- but he keeps everyone at an arms length, for their own sakes. He betrayed his former gang, and they could easily take a friend or loved one hostage.

(I’ll probably add more to this. I could ramble forever.)

Brief history:

Born to a poor family in a large city, Makoto never had many opportunities for growth. His father was indebted to a large, local gang, and so his family’s meager earnings were usually taken.

Makoto was heavily influenced by the lifestyle of a gangster from an early age. He grew up on the streets, learning to lie and steal, constantly breaking the rules. He was arrested many times for petty theft and truancy as a pre-teen.

Education was never a priority, and Makoto dropped out of school after his parents had both passed away from poor health. With nowhere to call home, he became a gangster full-time. The gang he worked for typically trafficked dangerous drugs, occasionally dipping their toes in the weapons trade.

His quirk was very useful for drug deals, as he could sense when people were lying about the quality of drugs, their worth, anything and everything. Makoto intensely developed his quirk with his fellow gang members in order to be able to interrogate people.

He was privy to everything that comes with the low life of a gangster -- theft, murder, rape -- you name it, he saw it. However, since he didn’t have a physical quirk, Makoto typically stayed on the sidelines during violent outbreaks. He was too valuable a tool.

When Makoto was 20, the gang he worked for bit off more than they could chew from an arms dealer. In debt and not coming up with cash fast enough, the rival gang sent over powerful members to take back what was theirs, and to kill some competition. The fighting was large enough to draw the attention of local pro-heroes, who showed up on the scene. Makoto, typically sidelined at these events, had been attacked and critically injured. Having his eye sliced open and other injuries, he was taken to the hospital. Once he was well enough, he was sent to jail.

However, after a few months, Makoto was offered a plea deal -- rat out gang members on both sides, and he’d go free, on the condition that he worked public service for a year for the pro-hero agency that, unintentionally, saved his life. Sensing no lie, and having had plenty of time to think about how he’d wasted his life away up to that point, Makoto agreed.

Many arrests were made, thanks to his snitching. Makoto quickly changed his appearance as much as he could, and begged the pro-hero agency he was working for for a transfer to another city. For his good behavior, Makoto was transferred, and he began to craft a new identity.

Legally, Makoto changed his name to Lazarus -- in connection with the dead biblical figure that was brought back to life. He picked up a common last name, kept his appearance changed, and enrolled himself back into school while working a minimum wage job.

He found a new drive and respect for pro-heroes. They saved his life and made efforts to clean up the street from the terrible people he used to work with. In order to repay the society of pro-heroes for what they had done for him, Lazarus pushed himself to find a talent. Always having had a sharp tongue and a keen intellect, combined with the natural talent of his quirk, Lazarus quickly found a niche in the legal world. It took many years and a lot of debt, but he worked his way from the grime on the streets all the way through law school.

Lazarus started his legal work as a public defendant, in order to get experience. However, after a few years of working in the public sector, he began trying his luck at offering his services, at a discounted rate, to pro-heroes. Knowing that pro-heroes were often sued in cases of damages, accidental deaths, grievances, and more, Lazarus wanted to do what he could to help the very people who saved his life. So, he began to specialize in Pro-Hero related law.

Now, he spends his days working on cases, and chasing down more potential cases. He dreams of working with any of the top ten heroes someday.

He also volunteers to speak to high schoolers about the dangers of gang-violence.

Likes: Dogs, coffee, smoking, small towns, Pro-Heroes and their related merch, bright colors.

Dislikes: Needless violence, weapons, drugs, loud noises, being snuck up on, and people who sue pro-heroes needlessly.

Am I done? I think I’m done? Unless I missed anything, god help me.

#wilds oc's #wild rants #my hero academia oc #boku no hero academia oc #bnha #oh my god i wrote so much stuff send help #no one will read this wall of text #ANYONE NEED A LAWYER THO FORREAL I'M JUST LOOKING FOR AN EXCUSE TO MAKE AN RP BLOG

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forkanna · 5 years

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WARNING: Slight AU; just one or two small events. Relationship involving a potentially underage character (high school; around 18). Massive spoilers for Persona 5, obviously. Change in perspective will be denoted with "JUDGMENT" for third person, and "The Priestess" for first person Makoto. Also, I know I'm writing the names in Western order (given name then surname) for Japanese characters; please don't @ me haha. If someone were to translate this fic into Japanese I would hope they reverse them into proper Japanese order.

NOTES: Okay. I'm really nervous about this one, because I know Persona has a huge fanbase and I'm a total noob. I just never had any contact with it that wasn't passing P4 on a game store shelf and having no idea what it was until last year; none of my friends were playing it and I didn't know enough about it. But then earlier this year, a few friends strongly recommended P5 to me, and it went on sale for a great price, and… well, crack's primary function is to be addictive, right?

Hopefully I've done some justice to the characters and the universe. And as always, I tried to write this in a way that non-Persona fans can jump right in. Enjoy!

-Jessex

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

PROLOGUE

The clicking of jet black heels echoed throughout the hallway as Sae Niijima made her way to the interrogation room. Her blood boiled and curdled alternately as she thought about what she was about to do - or rather, what she was going to have to put herself through. The last thing she wanted was to know any more than she already did about this situation. But she had no alternative. Either she did her job and got to the bottom of this, or…

No. That was the only option.

"Alright," Sae sighed brusquely as the door slammed shut behind her. The noise still had yet to fade when she added the din of a metal chair scraping across cold concrete to the cacophony. A file folder with a legal pad inside was deposited on the otherwise-barren table; more routine than necessity.

"Let's start from the beginning. Name?"

The half-smiling girl across the table from her stared back for a moment. "Are you kidding?"

"I am not. Name?"

"Fine," she sighed softly, lowering her reddish eyes to point at the table as she tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "Makoto Niijima." When the pen started scratching across the pad, she snapped, "Come on, Sis. You didn't need me to tell you that to add it to your file."

"I'm following the rules," she snapped right back at her little sister. "And don't forget our deal."

Makoto seemed to go even more pale than usual at that barely-stated threat. Her slender throat contracted from swallowing as she stared through the table that lay between them. Then she whispered, "Alright."

"Good. Now… do you want to start at the beginning?"

"Beginning of what?" she hedged.

"Of why and how you let this happen."

"When I… when I let this…" Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter. "Just what are you accusing me of?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." Sae crossed her legs and tapped the pad of paper with her violet nails, finally glaring at her sister properly. Etched across every inch of her severe features was disapproval, disappointment - just about any word that began with 'dis' was present. "You and I both know you're nobody's victim, even if you weren't the aggressor. And there are other… factors in this case that don't really add up to the simplest explanation. So I think I have every right to demand answers."

Jaw tightening in defiance, just for a moment, Makoto whispered, "I asked you to leave this alone. It's none of your concern."

But she received a lot more backlash for that than she probably had anticipated. Sae slammed her palm down on top of the notepad, eyes narrowing as she leaned in closer to her alarmed sister.

"Do you know what they think you're doing here? My superiors? They think I'm interviewing you in connection with those so-called Phantom Thieves - which I still need to do, because I think you know more than you've let on in that regard."

Only now did her sibling look truly shocked. "Wh-what?!"

"That's right. I'm not blind. But one thing at a time." Leaning in further so that Makoto had to tilt backward to avoid their heads connecting, she hissed, "I have complied with your foolish request, you little pain in my ass. I don't know what the point is. I don't know why you would want me to protect anyone who did something like that to my own flesh and blood. But I have. So the least you can do is show me a little more cooperation than this!"

As always, Makoto shut down. She knew that was coming. Whenever they argued, if it got particularly heated - or rather, if Sae let her temper get the better of her and went into full Attack Mode - Makoto would resist, she would argue back… until she didn't. The light left her eyes, the wind went out of her sails. Sae both loved and hated that moment, because while it meant she had won the argument…

She was losing Makoto. And she couldn't stop it, couldn't alter that course. It was too late. She wanted to treat her sister better, more like family, but couldn't quite see that pathway anymore.

"Yes, Onee-san," she said in that robotic tone that had become all too familiar. "What would you like to know?"

"Better. Let's begin." She turned the file folder, sliding it across to Makoto so she could see the photo clipped to the corner. It wasn't an official police file - yet. Just notes and a picture.

"What can you tell me about Sadayo Kawakami? And the nature of your relationship outside of teacher-and-student. The truth."

Makoto took a deep breath, staring down at the picture. "It's… not what you think."

"Then tell me what it is instead."

"Alright. So…" Fingers fiddling with the corner of the file, she took a deep breath before she continued. Sae had backed her into a corner; it was practically her M.O. No sense in fighting it.

"This started a few weeks ago, maybe a month, when I noticed something really unusual going on with my friend Ren…"

CHAPTER ONE

~ x The Priestess x ~

Kawakami has always seemed to me as if she were hiding something. Maybe that's because my big sister is a public prosecutor; something hereditary from our late policeman father. Or maybe hearing about all that legal-related work my whole life has just made me paranoid. Either way, I felt like there was something a little bit off about the Japanese language teacher even if I couldn't quite place what it was. Most of the time, she remained professional and always taught her subjects with passion. But this black cloud seemed to follow her around. Why did such a highly intelligent, capable woman who said she loved teaching so much always look as if she wished she were anywhere else but Shujin Academy?

My first clue I might be right was only a series of fleeting glances between her and Ren- I mean, Amamiya-san. My suspicions should be obvious. Even though I didn't think of him as the sort of boy who would do such a thing, or Kawakami-sensei as that sort of woman, intuition is not a guarantee. So I had to find out for myself one way or another.

I could never have guessed their true situation. Not in a million years.

My curiosity finally got the better of me one day when I saw Kawakami was more tired than usual. Drastically more tired, as if she hadn't slept in a week. With everything going on after Coach Kamoshida's confession of abusing his students and subsequent termination, I think it was natural for me to assume she was feeling fatigued from the fallout from that; the entire staff were strained from picking up the slack of his classes, and dealing with the constant gossip and bad press. Still, given my suspicions about Ren, I decided it was my duty as student council president to at least ask. If she didn't want to talk about it, then that was her choice. And if I turned out to be wrong…

I would have been relieved. Do you honestly think I wanted to find out another teacher at our school could prey on their own students like that?

"Kawakami-sensei?" I asked gently as I knocked on the open door to the teacher's office. "Do you have a minute?"

The dark bags under her eyes said that she didn't. Even her cheerful yellow long-sleeve scoopneck seemed extra wrinkled, though that was probably a figment of my imagination.

"Niijima-san. What's up?"

Seating myself at the neighboring desk, I cleared my throat. "Nothing in particular. With me, anyway."

"That's good," she began suspiciously, brow furrowing as she ran a hand through her wavy brown locks. It occurred to me that she was actually very beautiful, but it wasn't as easy to notice when she always looked tired and stressed out. Sometimes a person's mood colours all perceptions.

"Yes, I'm doing well in my studies. Making new friends."

"Excellent." A few more seconds ticked by. "So…"

"Hmm?"

"So… what did you need to see me about?"

"Oh!" I gave a respectful bow, keeping my eyes on the floor as I said, "Forgive me, Sensei. I'm sorry to take up so much of your time."

However, Kawakami chuckled at me. "So formal. Go ahead, I don't bite. What's on your mind?"

As I sat back upright, I tried to arrange my thoughts into the most tactful question I could come up with. What came out was, "Are you having an affair?"

I could see my teacher's eyes widening, and it took a concentrated effort not to throw myself out of the nearest window. It happened again. Why did I always sling the most forthright question possible at people if I was investigating them, instead of phrasing things a little more gently? That impulsiveness was so unlike me - and as I already learned many times, it didn't yield positive results!

"Niijima-san… what's- I mean, why would you ask me something like that?"

"I-I, um… I'm not sure?" Swallowing hard, I whispered, "You seem very exhausted and upset. Sorry if this isn't my business, I was-"

"You're right. It's not your business." My head snapped up to see she was frowning hard at me, and my heart sank. "I'm your teacher and my personal life outside this school is just that, kid - personal. But in point of fact, I'm not married, so I can't have an 'affair', anyway."

I felt about two centimeters tall as I bowed low. "Y-yes, Sensei."

"And you can tell that old potato the same thing."

"Old… potato? Oh, you mean Principal Kobayakawa?" My jaw almost hit the floor. "Did you just say that about our principal?!"

Kawakami rolled her eyes, seeming to actually lose another hour of sleep just from having to endure this conversation. I felt a tiny pinprick of guilt, though I tried not to think too hard about that. "Come on, Niijima. I know you're his pet; we know that. The staff, anyway."

"I…" My heart sank even further at the way she stated that. "I'm not his pet."

"We've all seen those notices pinned up all over the school, asking for information. Does the rest of the student council really care about unearthing the Phantom Thieves? Maybe about bullying and things like that, but… it's not even school-related. Well, other than their target being Coach Suguru."

Staring at her denim skirt instead of her face now, I whispered, "Of course. It is our duty to… to maintain order in this school. The Phantom Thieves, a-and bullies, are… disorderly. Right? Shouldn't we want to make sure… u-um…"

When it became obvious I wasn't going to finish because my voice had left me, Kawakami prompted, "Go on."

"Shouldn't we want to ensure this is the best institute of learning it can be? Don't you want that? You're our teacher."

"Well…" Another sigh, and I glanced up to see her pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yeah. I guess we do. But nobody likes a snitch. Even I've heard that you and the principal knew about Suguru abusing his students… what was going on with poor Miss Suzui."

"I- I didn't," I hastily told her, feeling my chest tighten, my blood running cold. She hated me. Everyone at the school hated me, didn't they?

But Miss Kawakami was shrugging and turning to look at her papers. "Didn't say I believe the rumours. Just that they exist, and they have some basis in fact. You gonna deny that?"

When I never answered, she finally did glance over at me. There was no warmth or kindness in her eyes, and I understood why; I had stormed in there, accused her of doing something unscrupulous. Even if I didn't outright state that it was with a student, maybe that was why she was so upset: she figured it out. What kind of entitled jerk was I?

"I am very, very sorry," I whispered as I bowed low again, just barely able to keep from trembling. Maintaining my professional facade. "I won't trouble you with this again, Sensei."

"Thank you," she said simply. But when I didn't raise back up, she touched my shoulder. "Makoto…"

"Wh-what…?"

Now there was the tiniest amount of warmth there - both in her eyes and the gentle hand. My heart skipped over a beat. Whether that was because the brief comfort felt nice, or because I had been shocked and afraid she might hurt me, I couldn't say for sure.

"It's alright. Get out of here, let me get back to work."

"Thank you, Sensei. I… I'll go away."

For just a second, as I stood and turned toward the door, I caught a flicker of surprise crossing her face again as she watched me make my way to the exit. But I didn't dare look back to confirm.

~ o ~

That was it. My big plan to expose further corruption in our school, to get to the bottom of the problem with my teacher, and I failed. I didn't even really get started.

So nothing happened for another week or two. I busied myself with other projects, studying, my duties as student council president. Though I did notice Miss Kawakami looked more and more exhausted, I had already burned that bridge with her; she thought I was an awful, rude busybody who cared more about advancing my school career and finding out the truth than people's feelings. None of that was true… but how could I argue with the way it looked?

Then something happened that almost made me forget all about her. You might remember this, Sister. I hadn't even been home for a few minutes when I heard you shouting for me.

"Makoto!"

I was still busy taking off my Mary Janes when I called back, "Yes?"

You came around the corner, that iron grey hair of yours dripping wet, towel wrapped around your body. It's easy to forget when I don't see you like that, but your legs go on for days. How am I your sister when you're twenty centimeters taller than me? Why did you win the genetic lottery? I always feel like a child next to you. But that's for more than one reason.

"Wasn't the water heater supposed to be fixed today?"

"I… think it was," I replied, stepping away from the door and fiddling with the strap of my school bag. "I take it maintenance didn't get to it?"

"You take it correctly." Every inch of your posture radiated anger and disapproval. "I thought you were going to make sure they could be let in."

Swallowing hard, I set my bag down near the couch. "Well, Onee-san… I said I would if I was home. But they were supposed to arrive while I was at school, so-"

"Then you should have left instructions with them. A key under the mat, something. You know I'm busy with the Phantom Thieves case; do I have to do everything around here?"

"No," I said. In what I hoped was a reasonable tone. "But you also know I can't skip class. And isn't it dangerous to leave a key out for anyone to find?"

Your jaw tightened, and I felt smaller and smaller. Pathetic and useless in your eyes; like I would never measure up. Which was how I always felt with you. On the good days, I only felt somewhat lesser; on the bad, I felt like nothing.

"Fine. You're right. Can't help that. I'll have to do it myself."

"Wait. Can't you… can they come back on Sunday? I don't have class then, and I would be happy t-"

"Nevermind," you cut me off fiercely with a wave of your hand, eyes no longer focused on me but off into the distance. "I'll do it. You can focus on your studies so you can grow up someday. Can't keep coddling you and supporting you forever, can I?"

And before I could say anything else, you were stomping back into the bathroom. There was nothing more for me to do than to move into the kitchen and begin cobbling together a simple dinner for the both of us. And that happened so often I could have set my watch by it. I was left alone in the living room, with my feelings of inadequacy coming from two women in my life who were authority figures.

Poor little Makoto, right?

To Be Continued…

#Queen Of Temperance #forkanna writes #persona 5 fanfiction #niijima makoto #makoto niijima #kawakami sadayo #sadayo kawakami #jess the writer

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