5/22

When Yusuke wakes, the mud in his brain allows just two thoughts, each scrambling over the other to be the first to coherence.

‘Where am I?’ and ‘How long was I out this time?’ It takes only a moment for both to flutter through his mind, and Yusuke pushes himself into a sitting position.

He is on a kind of table lined in ruffled, coarse paper. The room he’s in is a vile cerulean blue. An assortment of paraphernalia catches his eye. A glass cylinder of cotton balls. Charts he cannot decipher are strewn upon the wall. A stethoscope tossed onto a desk, as if in haste. A doctor’s office? The last he remembers, he’d been at the batting cages in Yongen-jaya. Ann was there. And Akira, with his questions. And the hooligan. Had they brought him here? Yusuke can remember the fight and his outrage at their false motives. The hunger has sapped the anger from him.

All he wants is to go home.

Yusuke spies his school bag in the corner. Convenient. Regardless of their justifications, Yusuke did not consent to be brought here and will walk out and never return.

He inches the door open, and finds an empty hall. Shouldering his bag, Yusuke steps out and begins his escape. He’s no idea which way is out, but the hall is small enough. He creaks open another door and finds what appears to be a lobby. Smiling at his deduction, he slides out and hears a voice that halts him.

“…waiting for hours! I called yesterday. Why hasn’t anyone shown up yet?” The voice is a woman’s, smooth but edged and frustrated. A break in the wall leads to another office, and Yusuke pokes his head around the side to find a dark-haired woman in a fetching white coat speaking into a phone. She holds it out before her face as if her anger could transmit better through the signal by the phone's position. “I want someone from the police here, now. Do you not take abuse like this seriously?”

There is a muffled, garbled response that Yusuke cannot hear.

“It’s being ‘processed?’ What the hell does that mean?” Another static reply. “No! Do not put me back on hold. Get up, and walk into your supervisor’s office. Tell him to get their ass down here. This is a kid who is not being fed properly. I’m telling you, it’s child abuse.”

Child abuse? Yusuke blinks. Could she be referring to him? He almost wants to laugh at the thought, but the intensity of the woman’s voice permits no such thing. Yusuke wonders, briefly, if he should make his presence known. He’s sure he could clear this whole thing up. But she seems unable to comprehend reason at the moment, given her spitfire conversation. No. I need to get back to Sensei. Yusuke has to explain this to Madarame. He’ll know what to do.

Resolute, Yusuke ducks down and sneaks his way past the window to the office. Then, he is out the door and walking down the street as quickly as possible.

The fatigue grabs him, and spotting a convenience store on the corner, he pauses. Yusuke stares at the building for a long time, then walks inside. He buys a candy bar with a smattering of coins in his pocket and devours it outside.

“Damn,” he whispers, once done. Yusuke knows this is a stressful situation, but to do something so rash and foolish doesn’t become him. No matter the pain of the hunger, enduring it would ensure his future as an artist.

Yusuke shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. There are two missed messages. He hadn’t been home for a whole night, and had expected more. Both were from Madarame.

He dials Sensei’s number, and the ring lasts for only a millisecond before it’s answered, and he hears a voice say, “Where are you?” It is Madarame, but different somehow. Gruff and angry and on edge.

Yusuke sighs. “I’m sorry I worried you, Sensei. I was out in Yongen-jaya, and I passed out. It appears some young people took me to a local clinic. I have to see you. They are making some horrid accusations and-”

“Listen to me,” Madarame barks, and Yusuke shuts his mouth. “I need you to get to Kosei High. Now.”

Yusuke blinks. True, he was late to class, but he would’ve thought this trumped school. “But… shouldn’t we-”

“Never mind all that. I’ve set up a meeting with Principal Oryu. You must be there.”

“But, we need to talk about what this doctor is-”

“Are you telling me what to do now?” Madarame asks.

“No,” Yusuke replies, and he feels and hears his voice crack a little. “But, is this meeting essential? Can it not wait until later?”

“No,” Madarame snaps. “It can’t. Get to Kosei.”

The call ends.

Yusuke stands on the sidewalk, his stomach roiling at the injection of strange food, his mind – still exhausted – bouncing around, trying to make sense of everything. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and marches to the subway station.

#

It doesn’t take him long to get to school. Yongen-jaya is only one station from Shibuya, after all, and though the train is particularly sweltering, he manages the journey with little physical discomfort. It is the mental anguish that plagues him. Given the seriousness of the doctor’s accusations, Yusuke cannot understand why Sensei would set up a meeting like this.

Kosei is an immaculate building, shining in the sun and modern by architectural standards. Though not as well-known as schools like Shujin, it is no less prestigious.

Yusuke makes his way up to the front entrance, opens the door, and bathes in the A/C for a few moments before continuing to the second floor, where Principal Oryu keeps his office. He has arrived during class, so the halls are empty.

When he knocks, he hears a short, “Come in,” and enters. Yusuke finds Principal Oryu, slight and bespectacled, seated at his desk, his fingers in a steeple before his face.

Madarame sits alongside him, his chair just a bit askew from the desk itself.

There is a look on his face. It makes Yusuke very uncomfortable.

“Kitagawa,” Principal Oryu says, and collapses the steeple to gesture towards the sole empty chair, across the desk from both of them. “Have a seat.”

“Of course,” Yusuke says and slides into it. Neither of the adults say anything, and Yusuke can’t stop his hands from fidgeting. He folds them, unfolds them, tries to stick them in his pockets, and then refolds them once more. All in seconds. “May I-”

“Let’s get to the point,” Oryu says, his voice heavy. He leans back, shakes his head, and states, “We know about the plagiarism.”

The word is like a hammer to his stomach, but Yusuke remains upright, staring. Madarame’s face has cracked, and he raises a hand to his eyes as if to spare the others from his tears and glances away.

“Plagiarism?” Yusuke finally manages. “What’re you talking about?” It wasn’t plagiarism. I created those works at Sensei’s direction. He made them as much as I did. They’re trying to ruin him! Yusuke wouldn’t let them. “There is no such thing,” Yusuke spits. “Sensei is-”

“Yusuke,” Madarame moans. Yusuke’s mouth shuts when he sees the look Sensei gives him. Horror and sadness. “Yusuke,” his master, the man who raised him for thirteen years, says, “How could you?”

Whatever thoughts Yusuke held in his mind wink out. His mouth blurts nonsense. “Huh?”

“Madarame-san discovered the discrepancies,” Principal Oryu states. “The pieces you’ve submitted to your classes. They are lifted directly from Madarame’s personal studio. Some, from the same exhibit he’s presently running.”

Yusuke looks back and forth between the two men. “I don’t understand.” Then, he repeats it. “I don’t understand.”

Madarame extends a single hand, palm outward as if trying to calm Yusuke down. “Yusuke, my boy, it’s over. We know everything.”

“I do not know what you hoped to accomplish,” Oryu continues. “But passing Madarame-san’s art off as your own. It is disappointing.” He shrugs. “But, we have no other choice. For such a gross violation of the academic policy, Yusuke Kitagawa, you are to be expelled from Kosei High School.”

The words are like an electric shock. Yusuke’s brain kicks back online, and he starts to shout, his voice high and weak. “No, wait! Please, there must be some mistake. I would never pass someone else’s work off as my own, especially not Sensei’s!” He looks at Madarame. “Please, you know me, Sensei. You know I wouldn’t do this. I couldn’t. This is wrong. Tell him, please.”

“Yusuke,” Madarame says. “Please, just stop.”

“Stop what?” Yusuke demands. “I haven’t done anything. Please!”

Principal Oryu shakes his head. “That’s enough Kitagawa. This is a shameful display. Try to control yourself.”

Yusuke looks back at him and stands. “But you’re accusing me of something I haven’t done!” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “This is a mistake.” Yusuke nods and forces a calm smile onto his face. “Sensei, they must’ve seen what I assisted you with for the exhibit. Tell them I was involved with creating those pieces and did so at your whim. That must be what this is all about. You know I’d never do something as reprehensible as cheat or pass another’s work off as my own. It has to be that. Tell them how I helped you paint those pieces for the show.”

And Madarame stares up at Yusuke, his eyes wide, and replies, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And Yusuke’s heart breaks. “What do you mean?” He asks, his voice quiet and small. “I’ve helped you for years. Not just for this show. You’ve… you’ve…” He can’t continue. The words will not come. He cannot make the accusation, even as it is leveled against him.

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.

Oryu sighs. “I was hoping we could keep this civil and not have you hurl such vile charges at the man who raised you. I suppose I should’ve expected as much from a plagiarizer.” The word is spoken with such malice, that Yusuke has to sit back down. Oryu folds his hands over each other. “The official process of expulsion will begin shortly. I will file the paperwork for processing. By next week, you will officially be expelled from Kosei High.”

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Yusuke’s mind drifts towards his options, but there’s nothing. Without his scholarship, he has no money. Without Madarame, he has no place to live. Without his reputation, he will never be an artist. The panic he feels triples. Am I homeless? Did I just become homeless? But, then, another thought cuts through the others.

I’m going to die.

He will, too. There’s no place left for him to go. He has no money. It’s all over.

The others continue to speak, but he cannot hear them. He is falling somewhere. Somewhere deep and very far away.

#

Lunch, and the Phantom Thieves are on the roof of Shujin. There are many things to discuss. Least of all, how to keep a lid on whatever can Takemi has opened by going to the police about Yusuke, but everyone has their threads they wish to pull.

“Why do you think Madarame’s keeping a storage unit in Yusuke’s mom’s name?” Ryuji asks.

Ann frowns from where she sits next to the A/C unit. “Because he doesn’t want anyone to know it’s his, duh.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I know that. I’m asking, why name it after Yusuke’s mom and not… I dunno, some random dead person? Or someone who never existed?”

“Tribute?” Akira asks. “Who knows?” But the question does irk him. Why would Madarame do something like that?

“If he treated her the same way he’s treated his other apprentices,” Ryuji grumbles. “Then that’s some pretty effed up tribute.”

Akira’s phone vibrates. He withdraws it from his pocket and sees a text.

TAKEMI: Kitagawa is gone. Is he with you?

“Shit,” Akira says. He shows the team the text. “If Yusuke’s run away, he’s probably heading back for Madarame right now. He could tell everyone about us and the things we were asking.”

“We need to find him,” Morgana replies.

Ann is looking at her own phone. “Whoa, guys. I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I just got a text from him. He says he wants to meet up.”

Akira considers this. “Tell him to head to LeBlanc after school. We’ll meet him there.”

#

Sojiro turns and holds out the plate, but when Akira reaches out to take it, he pulls it back, just a bit. “What’s the deal with him?” Sojiro asks and stabs his eyes upward. “The new one?”

“Yusuke?” Akira asks.

“If that’s his name.”

“He’s a friend,” Akira replies. “And he’s famished. I don’t think he eats a lot.”

Sojiro rolls his eyes. “I could see that. The kid looks like the offspring of a twig and an even thinner twig. Is he okay?”

“I think so,” Akira says, trying to maintain his calm. Yusuke had been despondent when he’d arrived, and it wasn’t clear how bad things were for him yet. Sojiro provides Akira with the food, and Akira takes the steps back up to his room, two at a time.

The Phantom Thieves, plus Yusuke, sit arrayed around his room.

Yusuke, eyes dim and wandering, sits slumped on the couch. “This is quite spacious,” he mumbles. Ann sits alongside him, a worried look on her face.

Ryuji leans against the railing, his arms crossed and foot tapping away. Morgana is perched on the bed, watching them all.

“Thanks,” Akira says, as he sets the food on his table and drags it over for Yusuke. “Here. LeBlanc’s special curry. Eat up.”

Yusuke regards the food, and his face twists up. “Well, perhaps a bite or two would-”

“Screw that,” Ryuji suddenly blurts. He marches over and slams both hands, splayed open on the table. “You’ll eat all of it, dude. Because you freakin’ need it. Malnutrition is not a damn joke!”

No one says anything. They stare at him, eyes wide. Eventually, Ann manages a, “Ryuji…” and Akira shakes his head and pulls up his desk chair to the table.

Yusuke picks up the fork and leans over the food. Life quakes back into his eyes as he inhales the curry’s smell, and to say he dives into it would be an understatement.

After devouring about half the food, Yusuke leans back and mutters, “I apologize for my inexplicable presence.”

Akira chuckles and shrugs. “Don’t know if I’d call it ‘inexplicable,’ but don’t worry about that. What’s going on?”

Yusuke’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “It would appear I’ve been expelled.”

Everyone has their mixed reactions of outrage. Ryuji asks, “Expelled? Like, expelled, expelled?”

“Yes, that one,” Yusuke says.

“Why?” Akira asks.

“How?” Ann asks.

Yusuke sighs. “I have been accused of plagiarism. Of stealing Sensei’s work and passing it off as my own.”

“For real?” Ryuji asks, shaking his head. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about? I thought Madarame was the piece of shit stealing from you!”

Yusuke slams a fist onto the table. “How many times must I say this? It is not plagiarism! Sensei requested my help on several pieces, and I did so because I was his apprentice. That is what an apprentice does!”

“Bullshit,” Ryuji spits back. “An apprentice helps his Sensei with his work. He doesn’t do all the work for the Sensei, so the Sensei can say it’s his own!”

“Ryuji’s right,” Ann says. “I’m pretty sure that’s the actual definition of plagiarism.”

“Look,” Akira says when he sees Yusuke’s mouth open in further protest. “Tell us what happened, okay? We dropped you off at the clinic yesterday. What’s next?”

Yusuke walks them through his day in between forkfuls of food. It is a long, rambling story, with Akira requesting a course correction several times. When he reaches the end, the others sit in silence.

Then, Akira stands. “I’ll be right back.”

The others watch him go, but not one moves to follow him. Akira descends the stairs, crosses through the empty café – beneath Sojiro’s eye – and steps outside.

Akira pulls the burner from his pocket and dials Ohya.

“’ello?” Ohya yawns into the phone.

“Were you sleeping or something?” Akira asks.

“Power napping. It’s a thing. What’d you want?”

Akira sighs and says, “Yusuke Kitagawa got expelled from Kosei High today.”

When Ohya speaks next, her voice is awake, calm, and authoritative. “Tell me everything.”

Akira relates Yusuke’s story and, at the end, asks, “Could you come over and explain things to him?”

There’s a brief silence. Then, “So, Madarame got tipped off, huh? It must’ve been the police. Damn. The Yakuza and the police? How many people does this creep know?”

“Hello?” Akira asks.

“Hm? Oh, no, sorry. I can’t come over now. I’m busy.”

“I thought you said you were napping.”

“The nap was a prelude to work. Madarame isn’t my only story.”

“But you can use this, right? Madarame got Yusuke expelled because he thought his little scam was in danger.”

“Honestly? It’s a he-said, he-said, Kurusu. And Madarame has a lot more oomph behind his he-said. Suppose Kitagawa goes public with accusations against Madarame. In that case, everyone will see him as another pissed-off teenager raging against the kind-hearted man who took him in and cared for him.”

Akira opens his mouth to protest but realizes he doesn’t have one in him. “Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

“Sorry, Kurusu. That’s how the world works. We’re going to need another angle to get to Madarame.”

We need to change his heart, Joker whispers in Akira’s mind. “I know,” Akira says to both Joker and Ohya.

Akira returns upstairs and informs everyone of his conversation.

“Seriously?” Ryuji asks, eyes wide. “She’s not going to do anything? I thought she was gonna blow this whole story wide open!”

“But she’s got a point,” Akira says. “No one will believe Yusuke.”

“But it’s the truth,” Ryuji insists.

This one still doesn’t get it, his father states. “And you should know by now,” Akira replies calmly, “that that doesn’t matter. The truth is about perception. Even if we gave facts and had proof, people will see Madarame as a beloved saint and Yusuke as a bitter former apprentice.”

Yusuke stares at the ground, his hands clasped together. “I… don’t know what to do.”

Ann lays a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out, Yusuke. We’re going to help you.”

Ryuji throws his hands in the air. “Great, so it’s back to the drawing board. And Madarame gets to keep churning out paintings and using up kids like they’re on some damn conveyor belt.”

Akira’s eyes widen.

That could be it.

“Yusuke,” Akira says and leans forward. “You lived at Madarame’s atelier, right?”

“Correct,” Yusuke replies. “Though I doubt I’ll be able to reenter now.”

“Could you show us where it is?”

“Why do you need to know?” Yusuke asks.

“It’s important. We have a way to help you. But we need to find something vital to Madarame first. We think it’s in the atelier, but we don’t know where it is. Could you bring us there? Now?”

Dejectedly, Yusuke rises to his feet. “Very well. Perhaps I’ll be able to retrieve some of my few personal items.” Yusuke shakes his head. “I’ve no idea where I’m to sleep tonight.”

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“Don’t worry about that right now,” Akira says, joining Yusuke in standing. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Akira,” Ann says, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Akira stares at her and smiles.

And this one, his father states. Wanted to leave us high and dry? And for what?

Yusuke is an intelligent guy, Joker says, and Akira can almost see his shrug. And he’s got no connection to Shujin. He could be less of a liability than some people. Who knows?

ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS

Akira blinks his head clear and ushers Yusuke down the stairs. “I’ll be back in a bit,” Akira tells Sojiro.

“You got your keys?” Sojiro asks.

Akira nods. “Yes. No worries. I won’t be out too late.” Sojiro seems to accept this explanation. Akira bundles Yusuke out of LeBlanc, followed closely by Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana. “I’m sorry about all this, Yusuke,” Akira continues. “To be betrayed like that, it’s hard.”

Yusuke shakes his head. “No, there’s some misunderstanding. I cannot believe that Sensei would truly-”

“My mother,” Akira says, cutting him off. “She did something similar to me. Although, I’d mostly come to expect something like that from her. She never strung me along. She had her ways and always told me she was doing what was best for me. But it didn’t take me very long to realize what was happening. You can only be left alone for so many weekends for so long.

“You don’t have to believe that Madarame betrayed you. Not right now. But I want to show you something that may convince you otherwise.”

“I doubt it,” Yusuke replies. His voice has a faint note of challenge, but it’s weak. The fight has seemingly gone out of him.

“Akira,” Ann says as they approach the station. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Akira nearly snaps back at her, but keeps himself under control. “Yes,” he says. “I’m sure.”

#

They arrive at the atelier with the moon high in the sky. The building is run down, though perhaps not in as poor a state as Madarame’s other properties. That Akira never visited this spot was pure luck. He and Ohya could’ve easily seen this one first, as it was near the center of the various locations identified via Madarame’s hacked GPS.

It is dark out, but hot. Everyone chatters as they approach, but Akira has kept quiet most of the trip, running his impromptu plan through his head. He doesn’t believe he’s made a mistake.

When they stop outside the building, Akira turns to Morgana. “Well?”

“Oh yeah,” the cat answers. “Just like before. There’s a Palace here.” Morgana pads himself forward, and disappears into the Metaverse.

“Good Heavens!” Yusuke exclaims, staring at the spot Morgana vanished. “The cat is gone!”

“He’ll be back,” Akira tells him, and steps closer to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. But something bizarre is about to happen. Something weird. You don’t have to be here, Yusuke. You can go back to LeBlanc and spend the night.”

Yusuke tears his eyes from where Morgana disappeared. “No. I will stay.”

“Alright,” Akira replies. “But if you do, you have to promise that you won’t say anything about this to anyone. We’re trusting you, yeah?”

Yusuke frowns, and Ann takes a step forward. “Hey, Akira. Wait a second. Let’s talk about-”

“Very well,” Yusuke says. “Provided we are not about to murder Madarame-sensei, my lips are sealed. I choose to trust you.”

Akira nods and turns to Ann and Ryuji. “I think I’ve figured it out. Morgana will confirm, but if I’m right, this is the Palace’s entrance. We’ve been thinking of Madarame as an artist. We figured the Palace would reflect that. But we’re wrong. It’s just like Kamoshida. He wasn’t really a king. He just treated the school like his Castle. Madarame isn’t an artist. He just pretends to be one. The Palaces reflect the inner self, right?” Akira nods to Ryuji. “It’s like you said, man. He churns out kids like they’re on a conveyor belt. Mass production. Inventory.”

Morgana phases back into reality, a grin on his face.

Akira pulls out his phone and activates the app. “Well?”

“You were right,” Morgana replies. “It’s the central location. You can see, high above, all the other locations converging. And it’s much easier to tell what it is too.”

“Let me guess,” Akira says. “Factory?”

“Match Found,” the app chimes.

The world shifts.

#

Yusuke runs.

He runs from the twisted thing of metal and stone that spits black smoke into a crimson sky and its stone tendrils that extend out into this warped city.

He runs from Akira and the others, even as they shout his name. Even as their clothes burst into blue flame.

He runs from the talking cat.

He runs from all of it.

He runs until he is all alone.

Yusuke sits on the ground, his back against an alley’s walls, hands clamped over his skull. “Wake up,” he whispers. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

He doesn’t.

This Tokyo is a ghost town. As he fled, he’d seen no one yet had recognized landmarks. Buildings and the like. It was all the same. Save for the lack of people. And that horrid factory that had materialized before them as the world spun. And that awful red and angry sky.

Yusuke stares at the ground. A thin layer of dirt and dust clings to the alley. He focuses on the little grains, trying to bring himself back to some kind of reality.

A reality that makes sense.

Only, reality makes no sense.

Plagiarism. Expulsion.

And now he was here, in this alley, staring at grains of dust and dirt, trying to figure out what to do.

Perhaps I’ve gone made. Yusuke once read somewhere, ‘It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.’

He had always liked that witticism.

Yusuke stands and inches his way to the alley’s mouth. He peers around the corner.

There.

In the distance, beyond the rooftops he knows so well, juts the massive façade of the factory, reaching high into the sky with its smokestacks and windows, bleeding dirty light out into this shell of Tokyo.

He swallows.

Just what is that?

He’d heard the others throw around words. ‘Palace’ and ‘Metaverse’ and ‘Treasure.’

They mean nothing to him.

But.

Yusuke cannot keep running through this vacant landscape.

If this is a nightmare, perhaps that factory holds the key to waking up.

If this is not a nightmare, perhaps he can still find some way out.

It takes Yusuke a few long moments to move. Then, he takes a deep breath, steps back into the road, and heads for the factory.

#

In hindsight, bringing Yusuke into the Metaverse hadn’t been Joker’s best idea.

Who knew someone so malnourished could run so far and fast?

Joker stands on the lip of a building and peers down into the street below.

Skull groans alongside him. “This sucks! Where the hell did he go?”

Panther, across the roof, searches for Yusuke in the other direction. “Do you see him?” She calls, looking back towards them.

Joker shakes his head. “Nope. Couldn’t have gone far, though.” He darts a glance at Morgana. “Hey, Mona. Exactly how far does this version of Tokyo go?”

“Uh,” Mona replies. “Well, technically, we’re seeing how Madarame interprets his atelier in the context of the larger city. You can see the links to the other parts of the Palace going out over the city, so, my guess is, forever.”

“For real?” Skull shouts, throwing his hands into the air. “We have to search all of this Tokyo for him? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

Joker throws back his head and laughs. “Wait, so the whole world is just out there? But absent people?”

“Kind of. I think so. It differs from distorted heart to distorted heart. But it looks like Madarame views Tokyo relatively normally, unlike the pieces of his Palace.”

Joker’s laugh lowers to a chuckle. “Man, these rules just get better and better.”

Panther walks over to them. “So, how’re we going to find him? We can’t search all of Tokyo.”

Joker adjusts his gloves. “Well, Yusuke isn’t stupid. And he’s not crazy. He’ll probably eventually figure out that, to get out, he’s got to either head back towards the Palace or find us.” Joker turns to regard the Palace. It is a monstrous thing, extending from the street into the sky, the focal point of all those twisting concrete buildings, to where it forms a factory, eclipsing the small residential neighborhood it surrounds. A bright sign hangs above it. ‘Madarame Productions, Corp.’ “And that is hard to miss. So I say we head back and wait for him.”

“But, who knows how long that will take?” Panther asks.

Joker spreads his hands in a shrug. “Well, it’s either that, or we split up – with no way to communicate with each other – and try and find him. There are four of us, one of him, and an entire city where he could hide. How long would that take?”

Panther frowns but doesn’t reply.

Skull looks down at Mona. “You sure you can’t, I dunno, turn into an airplane or something?”

Mona shakes his head. “I’ve told you before. It’s all about cognition. If the public doesn’t already have a preconceived notion of cats turning into airplanes, then I-”

“Okay, okay!” Skull shouts, clamping his hands over his ears. “Forget I asked.”

Joker passes his eyes over the empty cityscape of Tokyo. It is uncomfortably quiet.

“What’s it like inside the buildings?” Joker asks.

“Huh?” Mona replies.

“All these buildings,” Joker says. “All these empty homes and offices. What are they like inside?”

“There wouldn’t be anything inside,” Mona says. “This is Madarame’s cognition. If he’s never seen what the inside of the building looks like, it won’t have anything in it.”

“But, if he has been inside a building, it would be similar to the real world, right? Since the atelier is his Palace and all?”

Mona shrugs. “I guess.”

Joker smiles. “Interesting.”

“Can we focus, please?” Panther asks. “We need to find Yusuke!”

“Right,” Joker replies. “Right.” He nods towards the Palace. “Let’s get going.”

#

Yusuke stands before the factory’s maw. A break in the chain-link fence surrounding the towering behemoth is capped with another large sign reading ‘Madarame Productions, Corp. Trespassers Will Be Dealt With!’

Now then, Yusuke thinks. How do I get out of here? He has returned to the point where he and the others entered, but he sees no clear way back to reality. Akira did something with his phone, Yusuke remembers.

As his hand moves towards his pocket, Yusuke feels something churn inside him, and a sharp spike of pain lances through his skull. He gasps and brings his hands to his temples, but before he can think, he hears a voice.

“You!” It is loud and stern. “Why aren’t you at your station?”

Yusuke blinks and looks up into the face of a monster. From behind a blue mask, red eyes burn like coal. Inky, rippling black floats around it, bulging and pulsing into an exaggerated humanoid figure. It is dressed in a hideous beige jumpsuit, and a cap of the same make is pulled low across its head.

“I-” Yusuke manages.

“Don’t talk back,” the thing shouts. It reaches out with an overlong arm, grabs Yusuke by the shoulder, and hauls him towards the entrance. “Be grateful you even have this opportunity!”

“St-stop,” Yusuke cries. “Please, I don’t understand!”

“You don’t need to,” the thing replies, and then they are through the factory’s doors.

#

The Phantom Thieves arrive in time to see the Shadow drag a barely struggling Yusuke into the factory.

Joker’s eyes scale the thing until they reach the top, where the facades of the other pieces of the Palace coalesce into a strange crisscrossing network, culminating just below a solid piece of masonry that gives way to smokestacks puffing out black clouds into the red sky.

It looks to be a very big place.

“Well, shit,” Joker says, frowning. He draws his knife from his belt. “Let’s get in there.”

#

Beyond a simple lobby where a receptionist of the same black material as his captor cleaned its nails, is a massive floor almost beautiful in its horror.

Yusuke’s eyes travel upwards and beyond numerous, crisscrossing convey belts rising to an almost cathedral-sized ceiling, like some bestial spider’s web. On the floor, forklifts zoom and zip by, carrying pallets with nothing on them. More black figures stomp their way past, their movements almost mechanical, as if on a set track. The air is heavy with the smell of paint, smoke, and rubber. Between everything, there are wooden boxes with the words ‘Madarame Productions, Corp.’ stenciled on the side in black characters.

There are also children.

They line the conveyor belts, their feet either upon the concrete floor, or – for those above – on raised platforms of puke-green metal.

They are copies of one another. Or rather, each large section of conveyor belts has copies of the same children. Yusuke is dragged past one area, where a little boy with long, greasy hair stands, surrounded by twelve others that look identical to him. Great tubes open into the air high above, and when Yusuke hears a soft pop sound, he glances up and recoils in horror at the limp body of the little boy plummeting to the concrete. It hits with a wet smack and slowly lifts itself up, where it joins its twelve brethren at the conveyor belt.

Their hands dart across the conveyor belt, slipping, sliding, brushing, and stabbing.

And Yusuke sees that the boys do not have hands. Where their hands should be, are sharp stumps covered in a rainbow of paint. The stumps are brought to a point, and as they dart their way along, Yusuke sees that each iteration is working on many paintings. The same painting, over and over again, each copy of the boy adding its stroke to the piece.

“What in the name of-” Yusuke starts, but another monster bursts from a black pool before them. It is identical to the thing that pushes him along. “What’re you doing?” This new one asks.

“I’ve got a Kitagawa 2.0 unit,” Yusuke’s captor says. “I’m taking it to its station.”

“Didn’t you get the memo?” It turns to regard Yusuke. “They’ve been decommissioned.”

“Yeah?” The one who holds Yusuke’s shoulder looks down at him. “Seems pretty capable to me.”

The second monster shrugs. “It ain’t up to us. This comes down from the Manager himself.”

“Alright, I’ll put it in for processing.”

The second monster marches off, and the thing holding Yusuke changes its course. “What’s going on?” Yusuke asks.

“Quiet,” it spits. They pass a new section of conveyor belts, and Yusuke sees they are unmanned. However, there are a slew of paintings on the belts themselves, as if they had only just been being worked on. Yusuke’s eyes widen when he sees them. They are all the present work Sensei had asked him to complete.

“Let me go,” Yusuke yells, and tries to break the monster’s grip. “Tell me what’s happening!”

The thing leans down into his face and shouts, “I told you to shut up!” They approach a door that reads ‘Outbound Processing,’ and the monster yanks it open.

Yusuke can see nothing beyond but a long, stretching darkness and the vague impression of figures standing within. “No!” He screams, once more.

It is too late. The thing shoves Yusuke inside, and slams the door shut behind him.

#

The awkward little doll-like Shadow quivers on the ground. Joker levels his gun. “Where’s Yusuke?”

“Wh-who?” The Shadow asks, and turns its beady eyes to the others. “I don’t know who that is!”

“Don’t play dumb,” Skull shouts, and pumps his shotgun. “We saw one of you bastards drag him in here.”

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” Panther growls. “We won’t ask again.”

“Kitagawa?” The Shadow asks. “You mean the Kitagawa 2.0 units? They’ve been decommissioned. It was in the memo!”

“Memo?” Mona asks, and loosens his hold on the slingshot just a bit. “What memo?”

“It came earlier today,” the Shadow replies. “A general notice to all employees. The Kitagawa 2.0 units needed to be decommissioned and pronto! I thought it had already been done!”

Joker scowls. “What’d you mean by ‘units?’”

“Huh?” The thin line of its mouth hangs open in confusion.

Joker shakes his head. They’d snuck in through one of the windows after finding a fire escape around the backside of the factory and discovering the front entrance to be positively packed with Shadows.

Joker has to admit, aside from the size itself, Madarame’s Palace has been a bit disappointing. Kamoshida’s Castle had been as narcissistic as the man himself. But all they’ve seen of Madarame’s Factory, at least on this floor, was pretty straightforward. A couple of rooms with filing cabinets. A break area with a vending machine. Sure, there were Shadows, but nothing that suggested the extent of Madarame’s distorted heart.

And that worried Joker.

“Where do you guys send your decommissioned units?” Joker asks.

“Where?” The Shadow repeats. Joker cocks his gun. “Downstairs! Downstairs in ‘Outbound Processing.’ It’s on the main floor. You can’t miss it.”

Joker nods and pulls the trigger. The Shadow bursts into ash.

The others stare at him.

“What?”

“Nothin,’” Skull says and clears his throat. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Same plan as before,” Joker answers. “Find Yusuke. Now, we’ve got a direction.”

“You know,” Mona says, as he returns his slingshot to his utility belt. “I can sense the Treasure, and it’s further up. We may want to check that out, so long as we’re here and-”

Panther interrupts. “We can’t worry about the Treasure now! We have to save Yusuke!”

Panther’s right,” Joker says, and nods at her. “Yusuke is our priority. I won’t turn my nose up at any intel about the Treasure, but we’ve got to find him before he gets ‘decommissioned.’”

“Yeah,” Skull says. “That doesn’t sound good.”

#

When the furnace door opens, Yusuke’s fears are confirmed. In the sudden light, he can finally make out the features of all the still figures around him.

They are all him. Two dozen Yusukes, all standing in a line, all staring ahead, and rather than hands, each has a sharp stump covered in dried paint that – in the firelight – looks like blood.

Before he can even whisper, “No,” the figures march forward. Their steps are unhurried, and their faces are blank.

They walk.

They walk.

They walk.

And they begin to burn.

The first catches fire before it reaches the furnace. Yusuke watches as his hair lights up like a match, then his clothes, and then his skin. The figure collapses, ablaze, but continues to drag itself further along.

The same happens to the second figure.

And the third.

And the fourth.

One by one, Yusuke watches his doppelgangers stoically step to their deaths.

Every part of Yusuke that can think, rebels. Through the wave of horror, he denies. He makes himself believe he is asleep, safe in bed, and that everything – the meeting with the Principal, this awful place, the terrible sight before him – is nothing but a surreal dream. Perhaps he will try to capture it upon the canvas on the morrow.

Perhaps, when he wakes, he will go to Sensei and share his concerns.

Perhaps Sensei will finally have conquered his creative block and no longer need Yusuke’s services.

Perhaps he can finally unveil his own work to the world.

As the last version of himself burns away, Yusuke thinks that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

And then the furnace door shuts, and he is in darkness again.

You know what this is.

The voice is his own, but different. Deeper, more wizened. Angrier.

It feels like someone is pushing a thumb through the back of his skull.

You cannot deny the truth to yourself.

Yusuke shuts his eyes and feels something shift inside him, and then there is a hand on his shoulder.

“Yusuke.”

Yusuke jumps, and opens his eyes to the black. “Wha-? Who’s there?” He demands.

“Yusuke, it’s us,” the voice whispers.

He squints. The fresh darkness makes it difficult to see, but he can see three figures, and one smaller one, standing in the room with him. “Akira? Ann? Other one?”

Yusuke hears Ryuji groan. “Seriously?”

“That’s not what we call ourselves here,” he hears Akira says. “But yes, it’s us. Are you okay?”

Yusuke shakes his head, even though he knows they probably can’t see it. “I don’t understand any of this.”

The figure that is Akira steps forward. “I think you do.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Ann says. “We need to get him out of here.”

Akira is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “You’ll tell us what you saw later. Right now, we’re leaving.”

Akira steps up to Yusuke and takes his arm in hand. “Stay close.”

The group moves to the door and opens it back onto the Factory floor. The sudden light blinds Yusuke, so he does not see who speaks.

But he recognizes the voice.

“Well, well, well,” it says.

“Madarame,” Ryuji growls.

Yusuke’s eyes adjust. The five stand just outside the door marked, ‘Outbound Processing,’ and are surrounded by those black monsters.

In their middle stands Sensei.

Only, this is not a Sensei Yusuke recognizes. It is the same face—the same hair. But the eyes are bright gold, and the smile he wears is sinister.

Rather than his traditional robes, Madarame wears an expensive-looking suit, dark blue, with a starched white shirt, powerful red tie, and dark shoes polished to a shine.

He looks… like a businessman.

Madarame chuckles. “I admit, I was annoyed to hear production levels had dropped off, but who could have guessed it would be for such an interesting reason?”

Yusuke steps away from Akira, who whispers a quick, “No, stay back!” and says, “Sensei, what is all this?”

Madarame stares at him for a moment. It is one of the longest moments of Yusuke’s life. Then Madarame scowls and says, “I thought I ordered all the Kitagawa 2.0 units decommissioned? I believe there was a memo!”

One of the creatures nearest Madarame makes a sound like a throat clearing. “Apologies, sir. We’ll finish the job right away.” It marches towards Yusuke.

Ryuji jumps between them, shouts, “Stay back, asshole,” and brings what looks like a pipe down on the monster’s head. It collapses into a pile of ash at Ryuji’s feet.

Madarame’s eyes narrow. “I know what this is. Corporate sabotage! How dare you abscond with my property? I demand you turn over the unit this instance!”

“Unit?” Ann asks, and for the first time, Yusuke notices she is wearing an enticing suit of red leather. Even he realizes this is an odd thing to notice, given the situation. “Wasn’t he your apprentice? Didn’t you raise him since he was a kid?”

The golden-eyed Madarame scoffs. “He’s not the first. Won’t be the last, either. ‘Apprentice’ has always just been a pretty word we use to dress up ‘laborer.’”

Yusuke feels Akira step up behind him. “This is how he views himself,” Akira whispers. “And this is how he sees you. He’s not an artist. And you’re nothing to him.”

Yusuke takes a pace forward. “Is this all true, Sensei? All these years you’ve asked for my help? The creative blocks? Are they all lies?” Yusuke smiles. “I won’t believe that. You said it yourself. You took me in because of your fondness for my mother.” Something flickers over Madarame’s face at that, but it is gone in an instant. “I can’t believe you would be so callous and unscrupulous in-”

“Oh, Yusuke, just shut up,” Madarame groans. No one speaks. “Enough with the thesaurus bullshit. Do you think speaking like that makes you an artist? Do you think it means you’re higher-minded than everyone else? Grow up. No one important is impressed, and anyone that is impressed is not important.” Madarame shakes his head. “Did you really think you could make it in this business? Did you think your ideals and your pure thoughts or any of that other nonsense actually matters a damn? There’s no such thing as art, you moron. It’s a business. It’s all a business. And you cling to your outdated beliefs like they’re a life preserver, but you don’t realize that by having them, you’ve already gone under!”

Madarame takes a step closer to Yusuke. “I kept you around because you were good at painting. You had a great work ethic and a wonderful output. But all your babbling about artistic levels of consciousness, the muse, and all that other drivel? It doesn’t mean anything. And because you don’t get that, you were never going to make it.” Madarame smirks. “You should thank me for letting you be a part of it. Without me, you would never have even had a chance.”

Yusuke stares at him. “Thank you?”

Madarame waves him away. “Enough of this. Production has been delayed long enough. Kill them all.”

“Thank you?” Yusuke asks.

The monsters burst and materialize into more, even stranger creatures.

“Shit,” Ryuji shouts. “Yusuke, step back, man!”

“Carmen,” comes Ann’s voice, and a torrent of fire lashes out at the monsters.

Yusuke cannot take his eyes off Madarame, who moves away from the fray. He feels a hand grip his shoulder. It is Akira. “Dammit, Yusuke! Stand back!”

Yusuke yanks his shoulder from the boy’s rip. “You want me to ‘THANK YOU?’” He screams.

Pain.

Needles slide through his skull, piercing his brain's gray matter. He collapses to his knees, screaming, gripping his head in his hands, trying to stop the blood that must be flowing out from escaping.

Yusuke feels heat on his back. “Do not turn away.”

Yusuke falls forward and hits his head against the warm concrete floor. Through the awful pounding in his head, he can see a burning figure step around him. For a moment, Yusuke thinks it is one of the things from the furnace room, but this one is different. It is adorned in a cobalt halo of fire, and its eyes are golden, proud, and bore right into him.

With one smoldering hand, its points to where Madarame watches. “Do not turn away. For too long, you have excused his treatment, closed your eyes to his dereliction. Denied the truth that you know in your heart.”

Yusuke tries to lift himself, but the pain is too great, and all he manages to do is drag his fingers across the floor. To his horror, thin red lines of blood trail in their wake.

“You know this man. You know what he is. So why give weight to his words? Tell me, should you toss aside your truth based on the withered excuses of a tired, spiteful old man?”

Yusuke stares up at himself but cannot answer.

His Shadow’s eyes narrow. “Even now, you stop yourself from speaking the truth? The truth is like a painting. If it only exists in your mind, it does not truly exist. You must put it upon the canvas, bleed it from your fingers, speak it so it may be known!” The Shadow speaks faster now. “That man thinks his truth is absolute. Show him he is wrong. Show the world he is wrong.” It kneels down so it can face Yusuke. All around him, a bizarre battle rages. Yusuke feels the electricity of it across his face. His Shadow speaks. “But you cannot show them the truth if you do not speak it to yourself first. So tell me, what is he? What is Madarame? What is your Sensei? What is your master? Your teacher? Your father? What is he?”

And Yusuke spits it out through gritted teeth. “He’s a fucking fraud.”

His Shadow smiles. “Very good.”

Something wraps around Yusuke’s face. It is cool and tingles against his skin like long-dried plaster.

Words beat through his mind. “Let us seal the contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Let us dispense with falsehoods.”

Yusuke grips the kitsune mask and begins to rip it away.

“NOW GO FORTH AND PAINT THE JUSTICE OF YOUR TRUTH UPON THE CANVAS OF THE WORLD!”

Yusuke pulls the mask free with a scream and erupts.

#

Joker feels the cold first.

Arsene has a Shadow pinned with its dark tendrils, but more are approaching. All the Phantom Thieves have their hands full, and Joker cannot spare Yusuke a glance when he hears the scream.

Then, a wave of frost rushes over him and slams into the Shadows. They halt their advance, and some topple over, shattering.

Joker turns and smiles. Yes!

Yusuke wears a high-collared, puff-sleeved black jumpsuit. A fox tail hangs from a sash he wears around his waist. Opposed to Joker’s bright red gloves, Yusuke’s are a deep blue. His friend grips a sword housed in a red sheath.

Above him stands his Persona.

It is a spectacle. An ukiyo-e come alive, painted face and all. Its blue robe flutters in a breeze, its pipe smokes from small, dainty hands. It grimaces over at Madarame.

Yusuke opens his eyes and smiles. “I apologize, Sensei.” He slowly raises his hands and looks at his new outfit. “You are correct. I would be nowhere without you. You gave me direction, misguided though it was.”

Yusuke steps forward, and his Persona follows. “And indeed, the apprentice must help his Sensei shine all the brighter.” He wraps his hand around the sword’s hilt. “But you forget, the apprentice must also surpass the master.” Yusuke draws the blade, and Joker feels the cold rush up anew. “So, Madarame-sensei. Allow me to thank you properly.”

Madarame scowls and glares at the Shadows. “What’re you all doing? I told you to kill them!”

Joker leaps back and lands alongside Yusuke. “Think you can handle this?” He asks.

Yusuke’s smile never falters. “Abominations are fated to perish!”

Joker blinks. “Uh, okay.”

The thieves close ranks. “Dude, this is freakin’ awesome!” Skull shouts, staring up at the Persona.

“Who’d have thought you’d get a Persona too?” Panther whispers. Joker smiles.

“Let’s celebrate later,” Mona says. “We’ve got Shadows to fight.”

“Shadows?” Yusuke asks. “An appropriate name.” He steps ahead of the group. “Allow me.” The Shadows grow closer, and Yusuke levels his blade at them. “Goemon, STRIKE!”

#

Yusuke looks over at Akira from the couch. “Are you certain it is alright that I stay here?”

Akira sighs. “It’s fine, Yusuke. I already cleared it with Boss.”

Yusuke nods and lays back down. “I must find a way to thank him. Perhaps a self-portrait.”

“You want to paint a picture of Sojiro?” Akira asks.

“No, that would be silly,” Yusuke replies. “I would paint a picture of myself so that he could always put a face to the one thankful to him.”

“Don’t do that,” Akira says. “That’s so much worse.”

The fight hadn’t taken long. Goemon’s ice abilities had shredded the Shadows. Madarame had lost himself in the scuffle, and despite Yusuke’s insistence on going after him, the exhaustion had set in, and they had carried him out.

What followed was a discordant discussion of the Metaverse, the Palace, Madarame and their investigation, and their role as Phantom Thieves.

Then, it had dawned on them that Yusuke hadn’t a place to stay. Akira had managed to pull some strings with Sojiro, and here they were. They had so much more to talk about, but it would have to wait until later.

“The important thing,” Morgana says, from where he lays on Akira’s chest. “Is that you’ve got your own Persona now, Yusuke. That’s going to be a huge help.”

Akira nods. “It really is.”

Morgana looks down at him. “It’s good that you decided to take Yusuke into the Metaverse with us. We never would’ve gotten a new teammate if you hadn’t.”

Akira smiles but says nothing.

It isn’t long before Yusuke and Morgana are asleep. Akira stares at the ceiling and goes over the day's events, trying to think if he could’ve done anything differently.

Then, from his left, he hears the now-familiar voice of his father. So, tell me truly, son. Why did you take Yusuke into the Metaverse?

Akira stares at the ceiling.

It just seems that someone concerned with security and secrecy wouldn’t be too keen on letting another person in on the big sinister secret.

Akira mentally shakes his head. Yusuke deserved to know the truth.

The mental image of his father, now leaning against his window, shrugs. Sure. Sure. But how is that your problem? C’mon, Akira. You can fool them. You can’t fool me. I’m in your head, remember?

Joker drifts around in the back realm of his mind. We’re all in your head.

Akira tries not to think of anything. He fails.

His father smiles. There you go, son. Honesty is the best policy, after all.

Akira shuts his eyes and tries to force himself to sleep.