A/N:

If anyone is interested in plot origin stories: I was re-playing Persona 5 and ranking through the Fortune confidant, which (spoiler?) is mostly about how no one's fate is sealed. In fact, I found one of the major themes of P5 to be exactly that, which is counter to a specific instance in P3.

Spoilers for P3, P4 and P5 eventually and most likely below. I've only played FES, Golden, and Vanilla P5 so ignoring most of Arena and anything that could be different in P3P or Royal. Also, I've tried to be upfront with most pairings, so if it isn't, your cup of tea you're not waiting for the ball to drop (FFN only allows 4 character tags D:), but, unlike this first chapter, this is a action/adventure fic at its core.

March 20, 2017

They are alone, and he has no idea how this girl had managed it, but he is ecstatic she did.

"So, this is it?" She leans on his bedroom door, slamming it shut with a gentle push from her backside. The hard metal clicks and the light laughter and arguing from the halls has gone quiet. He watches her for what must be the billionth time. She's a curious person, and he devours that curiosity, longs for the way her dark pupils grow and shrink against pale, ice blue. She does a lap, fingers running against the wooden desk, the dresser, the black bookcase. "Funny. I think I like the attic more."

"Ouch." He leans back a bit to grab a pillow to toss at the blonde. She isn't paying attention, and the flannel-covered object hits her dead on. It'd be a lie to say he isn't proud of his aim, and even as she approaches him, red-faced, yellow flyaways crowning her in some sort of manic glow, he regrets nothing about any of this. "What about the bed?"

She's kneeling on it and over him. Her twintails dangle between his cheeks, and he internally curses that she decides to wear so many layers. "It's bigger."

"Yes."

"Do I like that?"

"Bigger is…"

"Do you want to finish that?" She raises an eyebrow and sticks out her tongue. "Kidding, Ren. Kidding! Jeez! Ah!"

He's not listening to her anymore and pushes her over, grabbing her wrists to hold them up and over her head. The pillow that should be under her is forgotten on the floor, and she is completely flat. Her chest is rising up and down from under him, and she is so beautiful and happy, and fuck, he hates this. "Do famous models do small gigs ever?"

She bites her bottom lip. "How small?"

"Like your charming-leader's-hometown small?"

She says nothing but kisses him, and it is too light and short and nothing like the playfulness they held before. "Do exonerated straight-A students do university in Tokyo?"

"How exonerated?" He regrets his question, of the heaviness that this topic inevitably brings, and he opts to ignore it completely and touch her instead. She is soft. Almost velvet. He can feel the slight hairs on her lower arm as he traces to her elbow under her bomber jacket's sleeve. His grip from her other hand falls down to her hair and then neck, and soon he is pushed away and off so that they cannot touch at all.

Her voice is timid. "You'll get in."

"I'm starting cram school in three months."

"You have to."

"No extracurriculars. No consistent school record. Who do I even ask for recommendations, Ann?"

"And even if you don't…" She's not listening, though to be fair he is only listening enough to know what to block out. "I love you." He turns at that, but she is staring at his ceiling fan, eyes heavy and glassy. "That's still true when you're not in Tokyo."

It's too much to not to, so he reaches and takes her hand. "This makes things awkward."

"Huh?"

"My cram school is in Tokyo."

She's on him again, all force and warmth, and he swears Hecate must be out or this girl is simply angry. "Amamiya, you are the worst secret boyfriend a girl could have!"

He kisses her on the nose. "I love you too."

.

.

"No! Say it ain't so! You did not!" Rise's face falls, hands flat on the table, and Yu cannot do anything but stare blankly.

This is, maybe, the complete opposite reaction than he expected. He's nervous to press on, to offer anything to help her feel better because it was his impression that she should feel great about this. Had he been a complete idiot for the past five years?

"I mean…" She pokes at her silky tofu. It's nowhere near as good as Marukyu, but he does not need to tell her that. Her sunglasses slide a bit down her nose, but she flicks it easily with the grace of a true professional. "You guys were wedding material."

"You mean marriage material?"

"Do I?" She stiffens before laughing. "No. I don't think so. But definitely wedding. It would be gorgeous. Very classic and elegant. Yukiko was always—it wasn't because of Chie, was it?"

He practically spat out his tea. "Excuse me?"

"They always seemed super close." The woman took a big bite of her tofu and pushed back a tuft of red-brown hair behind her kerchief. "But then again, I was shipping Chie and Yosuke forever."

"Rise, you'd have all of us paired off with each other."

"Four out of eight isn't bad. Oh, but I guess we're down to two." Her lips purse, and though it's hard to tell under the big sunglasses and head covering, he can tell that she is thoughtful. Shoulders sagging, she reaches across the café's table and touches his hand, her long nails digging slightly into his skin. "They're still calloused."

He swallows. "I still train, you know. Have to."

"Still have glasses too? It's been five years, Yu."

"You don't have them?"

"Well the glasses were my whole ability." She sinks back, breaking their contact and making his headspace just that clearer. "Of course, I have them. I'm kidding about all that. Five years isn't that long to forget."

"No, it's not."

"Or lose contact with good friends."

He feels the smile grow on his face. There was always something so easy about this girl. "I agree."

"Or be so completely out of the loop that you don't know that two of your teammates broke up three years ago." She slides the frames down so he gets a hint of her light brown eyes. "You don't need sympathy to get a coffee date with me, Senpai."

He's frozen. Shocked. Yukiko and he had agreed to quietly part ways when she stayed to run the Amagi Inn and it was clear he wasn't leaving Tokyo. Of course, Yosuke knew. And there was no way Yukiko wouldn't tell Chie, but…"I can explain. Rise…"

"I paired us by the way. In every scenario." She's flushed with happiness, excitement, and of, he's sure, laughter of what must be the dumbstruck look on his face. "Amagi-senpai can have Teddie."

.

.

"You have a meeting at 2:30PM with the producer of that romantic comedy you auditioned for three weeks ago."

Yukari Takeba rubs harshly at her eyes, teeth loosening on the pen cap she was chewing on as she scribbles. "What about my meeting with Niishi? I have some comments for the new Featherman…"

"Pushed to Thursday."

Her head is killing her. She drops an AlphaSeltza into the glass of newly poured water. "Okay. So then the Okumura meeting…"

"Tomorrow at 12PM."

"Satoshi, I hope you mean cancelled." She waves off the waitress for what must have been the fifth time in two minutes. Yes, she is nursing this cup of coffee until it kills her, but she'll order food soon. She flashes a smile that she hopes communicates this promise. The café is more crowded than normal, and she fidgets through her purse while cradling her cellphone between her chin and neck. "I'm not doing the commercial."

"Takeba-san, it's polite to at least hear the offer."

"Fine. Okay." The pain is worse now, the pressure seeming to permeate from her temples down her neck until she practically feels it in her bones. And then there is something different. Some sort of, not relief but insane comfort. Some familiarity that rings through her and drags her completely away from her phone call. It's distracting and, in a way, emotionally gut-wrenching, and she lowers the phone completely to look.

She can feel it. Feel him and it is overwhelming every part of her. She stands hurriedly, drawing the crowded café's attention, and then there are whispers about what she is doing and, worse, who she is, but there is no part of her that can even begin to prioritize that.

This café is small, and blue hair should stand out. And she looks again and again and again because she knows it is him, but where the hell is he?

She knocks into white-wired chairs as she looks. That feeling of...of weird power is getting stronger and stronger, and it is bizarrely eclipsing but still duller than she expects. It is him and not him, and as she stares at the couple, she's flushed with embarrassment and stranger's coffee spilled on her pink sweater. "Oh, um, sorry."

"It's okay. This happens all the time." The girl in sunglasses answers. Her smile is weak, vacant, and familiar. "What do you want me to sign?"

"You should ask for a trade." Her silver-haired boyfriend responds, and there is nothing about his face that is weak. Everything is potent and sharp edges, and she almost looks away.

"Huh?" The obviously disguised girl glances between the two of them. "Do you two know each other?"

They don't. They really don't. It's the energy that is similar, but now that she's here, it's still different from him. "No, no. I'm sorry. I confused you with someone else."

"Wait, him? You came here to speak to him?"

The man chuckled. "Sorry to steal your thunder, Rise."

"What is mine, is yours." The strength is back, and the girl named Rise removes the sunglasses from her face. She's pretty, but other than that, unfamiliar. "I think I know you. Yukari Takeba?"

"Yes. Um, sorry. Have we met? I can…I can still sign something for you. My pen…" She reaches for the purse that isn't there. In fact, all of her belongings are tables away. Her eyes refocus. The whispers are louder, the crowd more aggressive. "Sorry I was actually on a call."

"I'll get Yu one another time. I'm sure our paths will intersect. Rise Kujikawa." Rise holds out her hand, and the full name clicks. Yukari would have normally calmed with the kinship that is celebrity, but her mind is already on overdrive, too overtly concentrated on the innate, immense power humming around them all.

Yu… She must be staring. There are coughs behind her—probably fans—and it takes everything in her to nod and turn back to her table. She shakes her head politely to the fans asking for photos and gathers her things. He's gone. He's gone.

She had accepted that, hadn't she? Maybe. Yes. She accepted his death—all death—but acceptance didn't take away emptiness, did it?

Seven years, Yuka-tan.

There's a tug on her sleeve and Rise is standing, holding out a pre-printed card with bold, large western script. "This way you'll owe me one." She winks and sits backs down, and Yukari slips the autograph in her purse, eyes still on Yu.

Words aren't easy, and she bows slightly before rushing back out, sweeping on her own pair of sunglasses and a white bucket hat to hide her appearance on the street. There's a taxi outside and she takes it immediately, rolling down the window to try and cool the sudden heat. Her hands slip over her phone. There's hesitation there and worry, but she needs to know, and she is the only one who will care about this just as much.

Yukari: What if there are others like him? …Like you?

She doesn't have to explain anything more. It is only seconds before there is a reply, clear and pointed.

Aigis: Please make no plans today.

.

.

The drive back to Tokyo is…silent. She is incredibly unsettled, anxious and dying for someone to talk about something so she can stop thinking about the boy who is kilometers and kilometers farther than she would like. My nails are uneven. She taps them against the glass lightly. Makoto glances back from the driver's seat. The sudden noise probably shocks her.

"I had…fun today."

Ann's even, low voice wakes the whole car. Futaba is suddenly reminded that she is Futaba and flips out a laptop. "I left a camera in his room. I can hack into it right…"

"Do not do that." Queen's voice is icy. "Disable it."

"But how else do we…"

"I don't know Futaba, maybe a somewhat normal way like….video chat?" Ryuji turns from the passenger seat to give Futaba a proper stare. "Let the dude do his thing."

Her stomach became unsettled. Ann looks to the backseat. Futaba is hesitantly typing. Yusuke is leaning on the window, asleep. The hermit meets her stare. "May I help you?"

Probably. No. It's risky to ask here, but Ann swallows down her hesitation. "How much of Leblanc did you actually bug?"

"Enough."

"Enough?"

"Yes." She pushes the laptop close. Their eye contact is dangerous, and the blonde curses herself for being so naïve. "Want to explain why you're asking?"

"I'm assuming that all of our conversations are deeply encrypted," Makoto interrupts. "The Phantom Thieves are still vigilantes. My sister says there is a small task force still trying to identify us."

Ryuji's gulp is audible. "Eh…how small?"

"Understaffed. I wouldn't worry about it."

"There's still suspicion that we murdered my father. The true culprit is…hard to identify." Haru folds her hands politely.

"That reminds me. There is also a team looking for Akechi."

"Fuck." Ryuji pounds the dashboard, making the whole van jump and waking the artist in the back row. "Fuck, Akechi."

"He was a famous detective." Makoto is, without fault, logical. "His sudden disappearance from the public eye is entirely too suspicious."

Ryuji scowls. "How do we drop a tip, Makoto? I'm thinking anonymous tipper explains that fake detective kills self."

Silence again. No one knows how to feel about Goro Akechi.

Ann's own viewpoint rocks between he deserved it to how could we have saved him way too frequently. It is sad. That is the conclusion she allows to be her constant. It is sad that someone died before they could be better.

"Well, you are at least moderately accurate." Yusuke yawns before slipping back into sleep once more.

There are multiple missed calls from her agent when Ann finally gets back to her parents' apartment. It is empty—her parents are back in Europe running a show—and feels colder than normal. The air conditioner was left on and it's a chilling 15 degrees. Ann fumbles to her room and slips under the covers of her bed. She reflexively reaches for her phone and deliberately does not call her agent. "Futaba knows."

"Of course, she does." Ren's voice is hurried. She hears him rushing away from what she assumes is the kitchen, the clamor of pots and pans banging in the background. She pulls the phone away from her face and sees that it's only 7. "Though I made sure there are gaps in her feed for certain…moments."

"Ren, you should have told me."

"You would be worried."

"But now I'm mad and worried."

"Don't be," he says it simply, fully, in that convincing way that almost verges on Marin Karin. And she has to remind herself that Joker is a good leader, yes, but also a great liar.

"You're full of it."

"Hm?"

"You're the one that wanted to hide this." Ann huffs and she doesn't want to sound angry, but she does. She is emotionally worn and anxious, and damn, she just misses him. "Who exactly did you want to hide it from?"

"Ann…"

"I know Makoto had a crush on you. And Haru? Haru couldn't be more…"

"Ann, stop."

She did. She hates herself right now, hates being the jealous secret girlfriend, but what the fuck is a secret girlfriend anyway? "I'm not sorry." She starts but realizes that also comes across too angry when really she is just hurt. "I just…I just…"

"I know they did. It was implied a lot, and I made sure we were just friends."

"But you and me…"

"You implied…" He hesitates. She can hear him slunk down, his tone going soft and almost shy. "You implied not a lot." He laughs. "I was scared shitless on that roof."

"You seemed so confident."

"Didn't I?" Another laugh. "I'm freaking out too. I don't know how to do this well. I'm open to suggestions."

She pauses and pushes the comforter down from her body, suddenly warm. Her number one suggestion would be Stay at Shujin but that's not possible. "We can talk a lot. Like this. I love talking to you. Even when I'm angry."

"Are you angry?"

"No," She admits. "I'm frustrated."

"I am too. Anything else?"

"We can tell everyone." She breathes hard. The pause is longer than she would like, and she finds herself sliding up to lean on her headboard. "I mean, before Futaba does."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"When I'm back. I'd like to do it in person. What's your week looking like?"

Their conversation veers back into normalcy—into light-hearted jokes and Ann's tempered excitement bouncing off Ren's solid wall of interest and damn good listening skills. She talks about her upcoming gigs and how she hadn't heard anything from that one acting audition, which was annoying, maybe, but the script wasn't really her thing anyway.

"Are you home alone?"

"Until the end of the month." She's used to it by now, but Ren sighs. He's concerned for her, and her chest flutters and warms from it. "Shiho's coming over next week. We're having a sleepover."

"Oh?"

"I've told her about you. I hope you don't mind."

"Only if she does."

Ann laughs and falls back on her pillow. Is this what having a boyfriend is like? "She likes you. She never thought you were a bad guy. You sound tired."

It's an understatement. Ren sounds beyond exhausted, and he tries to correct it. "I'm okay. Just making curry for my parents."

"And coffee?"

"They're more tea people, unfortunately. But I should…I should go."

She doesn't want him to. The distance feels larger somehow, now that she lays here alone. "Tell your parents I said hi. Oh, and Morgana too!"

"Of course."

"I love you, Ren."

"Love you too. I'll call you tomorrow?"

She nods before speaking, forgetting briefly that he was not next to her. Then there is sudden silence everywhere, and she feels anxious, alone. She plays the voicemail from her agent, and it's nothing she doesn't know already. Appointments. Meetings. She logs it all in her smartphone and then decides that she really deserves a bath.

.

.

There are scripts all over her coffee table. She starts to neatly pile them all, earmarking a few pages, and then falls on the coach. Her apartment is small—a studio in the heart of Chiyoda. The walls are practically bare. The built-in shelves, on the other hand, are piled high with books and knick-knacks. Picture frames of Port Island. Of Gekkoukan. Just landscapes and buildings—people would bring about too many questions.

Her phone buzzes and she doesn't even start to check it. She gets up from the couch, unlocks the door, and starts to pace as she just waits. And waits.

"Yukari-san?" The door to her apartment is pushed open slightly and then she is rushed by a firm, strong hug. "It has been entirely too long since I have seen you! Look at you! I am always astonished how quickly living things grow in such small amounts of time." Aigis' grip is strong, maybe too strong, but Yukari tries to match it back equally. She is then pushed back by the robot, metal hands on her shoulders. "Your hair is shorter again?"

"Fits better under a helmet. How are you? How's Mitsuru?"

"She is well. I hesitated to tell her of your text message, however."

That was probably for the best. This could be nothing. She could be overreacting, misinterpreting all of this into something it isn't. Aigis doesn't say as much, but she is most always composed. She waits for Yukari to offer her a seat before sitting, patient.

She hasn't seen Aigis since their Gekkoukan five-year reunion, and even that was short-lived. Port Island was always hard for her, though she had tried and tried to make the last year something special or, at least, something that would lighten the incredible heartache that junior year had brought. And though senior year had its ups and downs—and her and Aigis definitely had their ups and downs—she is ecstatic to see her good friend again. "The Kirijo Group?"

"We've had some simple missions here or there. Nothing that called for the full need of my abilities or really any Persona abilities to be honest with you. Simply anomalies."

"Anomalies?" She folds her hands on her laps. There was a part of her that ached to be involved again, but she thought the reminders would have been too strong. "…where?"

"A small town two hours and thirteen minutes away from here, and most recently here in Tokyo as well. Though none of it was similar to what we experienced at SEES. All anomaly readings had vanished before we could properly assess the situation."

Yukari sits beside the machine. Her tea had long gone cold, but she picks the mug up anyway and takes a sip. It's bitter, chilling, but she really needs something to keep her hands busy. "I suppose it's good that it was handled."

"It is."

"But not that…not good that you don't know what it is." She really should put on the electric kettle, but, no, no. She can see the anxiousness in Aigis' face, which is exactly what she expected. Her text was cryptic, purposely so. Necessarily so since Yukari has no real, concrete way to describe it. "I don't know how to explain this to you."

"That is okay. Please do try."

It is strange, their relationship. Yukari used to think about it often, but all of this was pushed aside for so many years that thinking about it again is like a freight train. There was everything with Tartarus and Gekkoukan and Apathy Syndrome that bonded them and the rest of the Execution Squad, but they both know what their common ground is. "It wasn't Makoto."

Yukari breaths hard as she says it. She can't decide if she is upset or relieved by it, but it is true, and she anxiously looks to Aigis for her reaction. The machine blinks, voice uneven. "Then what led you to text message me?"

"It was like Makoto. It was just some stranger, Aigis, but I felt this…weird power from him."

"Power of the Wild Card?"

"Maybe." She shakes her head. "No, not maybe. Yes. It was that."

She is completely shocked to see that Aigis' face is not happy or excited or even curious. The machine, now better at displaying human emotions, looks stricken. The exact reaction has Yukari moving closer to grasp her hand. "Aigis? Aigis!"

"You are certain about this, Yukari-san?" Aigis stands with such speed and misdirection that she almost knocks over the coffee table. "You have 100% confirmation of his Wild Card capabilities?

Yukari sniffs. "Well of course I don't have that. I wasn't about to hand him a gun and ask him to shoot himself in the head at Chagall." Her snide tone fades seeing her friend still incredibly unsettled. "I'm not trying to…I know what you're thinking."

The look Aigis threw her is of clear disbelief. "How could you?"

"I know back then I…I would do anything for him. I missed him more than anything. I still do. And yes, maybe I'm jumping at the very, very small chance that this could mean something. But I also think it's just weird, okay? I thought…" She leans back on the couch. Why was she still crying about this? "I thought you would understand."

"Yukari-san…" Aigis sits back down. The fear and utter distress on her face is gone, and she hugs her again. "Of course, I do. I loved him too."

Loved? That sounds strange to her. The tears are rampant, free flowing. She wonders briefly if it were possible for Aigis to short circuit but dismisses it quickly. Yukari wants to speak again, apologize, maybe, but she always wants to apologize to Aigis. Nothing can actually come out except for a wet groan that sounds more like snot than words. Aigis pushes her back, worried. "That is an abnormal sound you are producing."

"I…" She sounds like a frog. The perplexed look on Aigis' face causes Yukari to laugh, stopping the crying and snot for now. "I've missed you."

"Please ignore my reaction before. I was certain you did not know what I was thinking for it is unknown knowledge to all."

Yukari shifts back. "Unknown knowledge? What…what happened?"

The distraught appearance makes its way through Aigis' body. Though the machine could not breathe, Yukari can see Aigis' chest flatten. "I no longer have his abilities."