Akira slides into the shadow behind a statue of Kamoshida. A guard lurches past, its steps slow and plodding, shuddering as it moves. It reaches the end of the hall, turns, and marches out of sight.

"Ryuji," Akira whispers.

His friend emerges from behind a planter several yards away. "Close one."

They slink down the crimson carpeted hall, lined on both sides by silent sentries of still armor.

The corridor’s end splits in two directions. "Which way?" Ryuji asks.

"How about neither?" Comes a voice from above. A ball of black flashes down and slams into Ryuji's stomach, who drops to the carpet with a moan.

Akira brings up his knife, but it is only Morgana. The cat looks from one to the other. "What are you two bozos doing here?"

Akira goes to Ryuji's side and asks, "You okay?"

"Freakin' cat," Ryuji groans. "Help me up."

Akira takes his arm, and as he pulls him up, says to Morgana, "We came back."

"I see that!" The cat is hopping from one hind leg to the other, his arms flapping wildly. "I want to know why!"

"We've got business," Ryuji says, belting his words out in-between air-starved gasps. "With the King."

It had been surprisingly easy. Although reluctant to overly mess with things Akira did not understand, he queued up the app on his phone - once the two were safely across the street from the school, hidden in the dimly lit depths of the alley they'd used to approach the Castle the first time. He'd expected a sudden shift or a sensation of nausea, but instead, the app had provided a series of extra data points.

Name: Suguru Kamoshida

Localization: Shujin Academy

Distortion: Castle of Lust

Akira didn't like what it suggested that this strange app seemed built with the option of selection, but when he clicked on the icon above the three lines of information, they found themselves staring at the Castle. Ryuji had wanted to re-infiltrate the place immediately, but Akira decided to exit back to the real world first to ensure that they actually could. It had worked, and both boys used the app on Akira's phone to go back inside and then snuck in through the air duct Morgana had shown them the first time.

Morgana puts his bulbous head in his forepaws and says, "No. No. No. No." His following groan is long and exasperated. "Are you telling me that you didn't figure out the Kamoshida in here isn't the same as the one in your world?"

"N-no!" Ryuji says. "We totally figured that out."

"Then why are you here?"

Akira pats Ryuji on the back and adjusts his gloves. He explains their rough sketch of a plan.

Morgana takes it in and replies, "Leave. Now."

Ryuji shakes his head. "No way!"

"Your plan stinks," Morgana says. "You already know people who are getting abused in the real world. Go back and get them to confess."

"There's more than just Takamaki and a few guys and girls on the volleyball team. Everyone he's hurting deserves a shot at taking the bastard down!"

"The people you see in here aren't real. They're just Kamoshida's interpretations of them. But you are real, and you can get hurt. You can die here. And if you die here, you won't be able to help anyone in the real world." Morgana blinks. "Wait, how did you guys get back here?"

Ryuji prods his thumb towards Akira. "This guy had an app on his phone."

"An app? What's that?"

"Pssh," Ryuji says, then looks at Akira. "And this guy says he's human."

"I am human!"

"Then why don’t you know what an app is? Why do you look like a cat?"

"I-" Morgana starts, then frowns. His eyes cast themselves towards the floor. "I don't remember."

"For real?"

"Yes, 'for real!'" Morgana says. "I don't remember why I look this way. Happy now?"

Akira kneels next to Morgana. "You have amnesia?"

Morgana folds his paws across his chest and glowers. "So what if I do?"

"I'm sorry. That sucks." He gives the cat a sympathetic look, even as he inwardly groans. But, of course, the one person, cat or whatever, who could explain what’s going on has amnesia.

Morgana blinks, averts his gaze, and kicks at the carpet with one of his hind paws. "Yeah, well, I'm going to get my memories back. Guaranteed!" He looks up at the two, regards them differently. "You two aren't leaving, huh?"

"Not until we've memorized the face of everyone Kamoshida's abusing," Ryuji says.

Akira just shakes his head.

Morgana smirks a bit. "Alright, then. I'll lead you to them." When the two boys open their mouths, he holds up a paw. "But! You will do what I say when I say it! Consider my word law!"

Akira straightens, and Ryuji walks up to him. "Hey, do you trust this thing?"

Akira shrugs. "I think we can. He helped us out last time."

"But what if he's like, trying to trick us?"

Morgana frowns. "You know I can hear you, right? Do you want my help or not?"

Akira looks at Ryuji, who sighs and nods. "My name's Akira Kurusu," he says. "And this is Ryuji Sakamoto."

"Wow! Great! That's so awesome! Can we go now, please? We've been standing in this hall for ten minutes."

#

"Can't we hurry this up?" Ryuji asks as they descend a familiar stairwell. "We've been at this for, like, an hour."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Morgana replies, from up ahead, where he peers down from a landing. "I didn't realize this was keeping you from something important. If you'd like, we can just go sprinting down the halls. I'm sure no one will notice that."

"Freakin' cat," Ryuji replies.

The slow pace of their infiltration grates Akira as well, but Morgana's sneaky antics and commands have kept them from the sight of Shadows. He may wield a knife and be able to summon Arsene, but Akira would rather avoid confrontation. It is not fear but logic. He does not know what he can do yet. Here, in the Metaverse - as Morgana calls it - he's confident in himself, but he was confident justice would prevail in his trial.WHAT

It's best to stay safe.

They smell the fruity fetor of rot before they find the dungeon, the odor a declaration of their impending arrival.

The stones are slick with mildew and mold. The air is thick, stagnant, and sick. Broken moans of prisons greet them.

In his dumbstruck state yesterday, Akira had been unable to grasp the realities of the dungeon fully. It is worse than he thought. The prisoners languish in their cells, eyes vacant, bodies ornamented with hideous cuts and grotesque bruises. He knows they are not real people. That they are - in a way - figments of Kamoshida's imagination, but this does not stop the churning in his gut.

One boy has a deep, yellow gash along his forehead. Blood covers his face in a sheet.

Another's arm is bent in several places - all wrong angles - but his pale voice mutters eulogies to Kamoshida.

Morgana's eyes are wide. "This is awful. I didn't think it would be this bad. For the distortions to have suffered this level of abuse, it must be pretty significant in the real world."

Ryuji grips the bars of one cell. Akira walks up behind and stares over his shoulder. The boy inside is motionless on the ground. His right foot has been crushed flat. His head has swelled to almost twice its usual size, the beady little eyes whirling around inside that protuberant thing, white and mad.

"This is how he sees us," Ryuji whispers.

Akira reaches out a hand and rests it on his shoulder. "We'll get him for this."

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "Yeah." He sets himself to memorizing the faces.

#

It does not take them long to find where Kamoshida keeps the girls. Above the dungeons exists a set of opulent doors adorned in a series of golden fleur-de-lis. Neon pink letters hang above the doors. ‘HALL OF PLEASURE.’

Neither Akira nor Ryuji hesitate to shove them open.

“Not so loud!” Morgana cries as they swing inward with an aching creak.

The girls lay on the ground. Their wrists and necks are manacled, with enough give to the chains to allow for movement. They writhe in what looks like a cross between agony and ecstasy, their faces contorted into a terrible mix of adoration, fear, and exertion. They touch themselves.

Most wear nothing but bras and panties, but some are decorated in more elaborate designs. One wears the ivory shirt of Shujin, the front tied in a knot exposing her midriff. Her skirt is pathetically short and hiked up. Another is dressed in black-laced lingerie, tight and form-fitting.

One is naked and still upon the tiled floor.

In the center of the room is a bed. It is a tacky thing, pink and shaped like a heart, the kind of thing one might find in a love hotel. Upon it sits Kamoshida, dressed in his cape, crown, and speedo.

Ann Takamaki dances before him in a matching set of pink underwear. Her movements are slow and sensual, and her hands explore herself. A loose smile hangs on her face. Her eyes are dimmed, with nothing behind them.

The grin on Kamoshida's face is vast, and he extends a hand out to her.

Akira doesn't notice Ryuji’s movement until too late. He opens his mouth to call out, but Ryuji is halfway across the room and screaming.

"DON'T TOUCH HER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

The girls’ exclamations cease. Kamoshida's hand continues, but instead of a caress, he shoves Takamaki aside. She hits the floor with a girlish little squeak, and Kamoshida stands. He still grins.

"There you are, Sakamoto."

Pools of oozing black appear on the floor, pulse, and morph into guard shadows.

"Ryuji!" Akira shouts. He darts forward.

"Stop!" Morgana cries.

The Shadows convulse and burst, their armor sloughing off as monsters take their place. Burnt stallions rear up, their skin laced with sickly green veins, their manes white as bone, their eyes bloodshot and bloated.

Akira halts his charge as Kamoshida commands, "Take those thieves, but leave Sakamoto to me."

"Idiot!" Morgana screams and throws himself forward; a falchion suddenly gripped in his paws. He bears down on one of the beasts. "Stand back and watch-" His voice turns into a painful mewl as another of the creatures darts forward and snatches him out of the air. The thing shakes its head in a terrible and rapid back-and-forth and throws Morgana onto the floor. It raises one cloven hoof and brings it down onto the cat's back, pinning him to the floor.

"Arse-" Akira begins, but one monster has loped behind him, and the thing strikes out with its hind legs, sending a pulverizing blow into Akira's back. He screams and falls, and his knife clatters to the tiles and slides away. His attacker sprawls itself across him. The pressure breaks something, and Akira can taste blood in his mouth.

#

Ryuji watches his unfold. This is my fault. If he'd kept calm, if he hadn't charged in here, this wouldn't be happening. He knows that Takamaki isn't the real one, so why? Why had he only seen red when Kamoshida had been about to touch her?

Kamoshida is rapt. "Thank you for leading them here, Sakamoto," he says, without taking his eyes from his captives. "You know, despite your hatred for me, you keep helping me out the most."

"I didn't..." Ryuji moans and looks past him at Ann, who rubs her behind like a cartoon character. "Takamaki..."

Kamoshida looks at the girl. "Hm? Oh. Now I see." He walks over to her, seizes her by the hair, and hauls her to her feet. "You're pathetic, Sakamoto. Did you seriously think a woman like this would ever go for a punk like you?" He raises his free hand into the air, an orator to his masses, and calls, "How about it, ladies? Why don't you tell Sakamoto just what you think of him?"

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Ann, still dangling in the King's grip, fixes Ryuji with a sadistic grin. "Ryuji is such a loser. His dumb blonde hair just makes him look like a poser. He thinks everyone's afraid of him, but the truth is that everyone just thinks he's pathetic."

Ryuji cannot look at this. He cannot hear this. He turns, but the other girls have dragged themselves and their chains forward until they ring him like carrion birds.

"I can't stand to look at him!"

"He thinks he's a badass, but he's just a sniveling little wimp!"

"I suppose he's good for something, though. If he hadn't attacked King Kamoshida, our majesty wouldn't be as powerful as he is today."

Ryuji sinks to his knees. He raises his arms about his head and shuts his eyes. "That's not what I..."

The girl in the schoolgirl outfit leans in and rests her hands on his shoulders almost tenderly. "No one loves you, Ryuji. No one wants you. You're stupid. You've got no friends. And ever since you broke your leg, you've got no prospects. You're never going to be a success like King Kamoshida."

Ryuji's words are a whimper. "I didn't break my leg. Kamoshida broke it."

"In self-defense," the girl in lingerie says. She crawls towards him, the manacle around her throat constricting, and lays a hand on his thigh. "That's what we all believe. And we all believe it because King Kamoshida told us. He's so powerful and righteous. We'll always believe him over a piece of shit like you."

"Stop it," he begs.

"Loser!"

"Creep!"

"Punk!"

"Asshole!"

"Piece of shit!"

"STOP IT!"

Kamoshida enters the circle, the girls reaching out to him as he passes, and grins down at Ryuji. "Face it, Sakamoto. You're useless. You're nothing. You couldn't protect the track team. You couldn't protect your mother." He nods towards the prone bodies of Akira and Morgana. "You can't even protect those two. You can't do anything."

Ryuji slumps forward. His forehead collides with the cold floor. "Dammit," he whispers. Why can’t I ever do anything?

"Ryuji..." The voice is weak and wet but cuts through the din.

Ryuji looks. A thin trickle of red bubbles from the corner of Akira’s mouth. His eyes, from behind the mask, plead.

"Help."

Something snaps inside him. He shoots to his feet and shoves the girls away. He feints in one direction then bolts around the other side of Kamoshida. "Get off them, you-"

Kamoshida's backhand hits like a hammer. It cracks into the side of Ryuji's skull. For an eternal moment, he is weightless and off the ground, then he crashes into a heap on the floor.

"Didn't I just tell you?" Kamoshida shouts. "You're nothing but a delinquent! A loser! You should know your place!"

"My place?" Ryuji rights himself and takes a knee. Blood leaks down the side of his head. It stains his hair.

"They're not wrong, you know." The voice cuts into his mind like a scalpel. A scream escapes him, but he can see, just beyond Kamoshida, perched on the King's bed, himself. Flames wrap him in a cerulean aura. His eyes burn gold. "I mean, you're just what they say you are." The figure stands upright, hops off the bed, and struts towards Ryuji, a mad grin on his face.CAN'T

Ryuji tries to watch, but the pain burrows deeper into his skull, and he shudders to the floor, howls pouring from him.

"But then again," Ryuji's double says, "is that such a bad thing? The delinquent? The punk? The troublemaker? There's power in those labels." It spreads its hands in a shrug, and flame crackle into the air. "So, if your name's tarnished already, why not hoist the black flag and raise some real hell?"

Teeth chew his brain. Ryuji lays curled in a ball.

"No more posturing, no more slinking in the shadows. You want to be the troublemaker? Then make some damn trouble!"

When Ryuji speaks, his word is the groan of the damned. "Everything..." His hands splay themselves on the tile, and he pushes himself up. Kamoshida stares. "Everything I had, you took away." Tears shunt from his eyes. He must've bitten his lip or tongue because he tastes the metallic tint of blood in his mouth. "So I'm..." he stands, hands clenched, "gonna take everything of yours. I’LL SHOW YOU MY PLACE, ASSHOLE!”

"Very good," the burning figure declares. It vanishes, and a gunmetal mask in the shape of a skull bursts onto Ryuji's face. "This is a contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Steer yourself towards your purpose, never wavering, AND LET YOUR FLAG DARKEN THE SKIES OF THE UNJUST!"

#

Ryuji's shriek as he rips the mask off is raw and ragged. His skin tears, and snakes of blood slither through the air and dash upon the tile.

Flames erupt into the air and twist into the hull of a sable, mast-less galley, a knife-like grin slathered in paint upon the bow. Astride the vessel stands a tattered, red-caped skeleton. A black, jolly-roger cap adorns its bleached head, twin sabers cut beneath its chin in mock of a collar. From the cuff of one arm, a polished gold cannon extrudes.

Ryuji stands beneath it, his Shujin uniform gone. In its place, he wears a spike-studded biker kutte, a blood-red scarf, and thin yellow gloves.

The ship cuts through the air, and a hollow afterimage trails it. Solid, it slams its hull into the creatures astride Morgana and Akira. The red-eyed monsters rear with horrified neighs, collapse backward, and fling their legs about in a mad attempt to find purchase.

Morgana crawls to Akira's side and whimpers, "Dia." A sea-green glow appears above and then floats down and into the boy's body. Akira can feel his wounds staunching, his bones mending, he feels the blood flow where it needs to, and he feels his energy return.

He straightens his repaired limbs and crouches next to Morgana, who performs the same healing spell on himself. "What's going on?" He asks.

Morgana perks up and hops to his feet. "What'd you think, genius? Ryuji's got a Persona!"

The two dart to his side. "Ryuji?" Akira asks.

His friend's eyes open, clear, and energized. "Yo!" His smile is brilliant. He takes in his outfit, and an apocalyptic lead pipe materializes and lays heavy in his hands. "Holy shit, this effing rocks!" The pirate ship and its skeletal sailor halt above him. "Whaddup, Persona?"

Morgana smirks. "Looks like you're not so useless after all."

"Can it, cat," Ryuji counters, but his grin remains in place.

Kamoshida backs away. "What the hell? This one too? Guards! Guards!" Pools of black congeal where he steps and swell into his armored servitors. One, adorned in gold, convulses in a violent spasm and bursts—the resulting eruption of black pus swirls and reforms.

A gargantuan samurai, its armor a dull maroon, its eyes white slits of malice, sits astride a white, wild steed. In its gauntleted hand, it grasps an ugly spear of jagged metal and splinter. It yanks the reins, and its stallion lifts itself into the air, its forelegs pumping.

"Careful," Morgana says. "That one looks powerful."

Akira snatches his knife off the floor as Ryuji smirks and says, "Doesn't look so tough. Besides, I'm in the mood for some serious ass kicking. How about you?"

Akira returns the smile. "Of course."

The samurai hunches forward, digs its booted heels into the horse's sides, and charges, its spear held low. "In that case," Ryuji says, and with a swing of his arm, points at the approaching enemy, "Blow em away, CAPTAIN KIDD!"

The Captain's arm extends. There is a crackle around the muzzle of the cannon. The air smells burnt. An electric eruption echoes, and a violent concentration of current hurtles through the air and crashes into the samurai. Rider and ridden screech in pain as bolts course about them. Smoke begins to escape from the spaces in the samurai's armor. It collapses to the ground, and in a hiss, evaporates into ash.

Ryuji drives one fist into his palm and looks out upon the King and his minions. "Who's next?" He asks.

#

The three come to a halt on the drawbridge. The sky is a black marble expanse, moonless, and glares down at the thieves as they catch their breath.

"I still say," Ryuji says, then pauses to swallow more air. "We should've wasted Kamoshida."

"Bad idea," Morgana replies. He is prone on the boards, facedown, his little body rising and falling as he breathes. "Akira and I were in bad shape. I managed to heal us, but if that fight had lasted any longer, we'd have been in a lot of trouble."

Akira claps Ryuji on the shoulder. "Tired?"

The youth is bent at the waist, hands on his knees. "Totally."

"We should get back."

"Def." He slides his mask up and taps his forehead. "Plus, I've got all the faces memorized. So tomorrow, when we get to school, we'll get em to confess and take that bastard down."

Morgana clears his throat and turns his face to them. "That's great and all, but I hope you're ready to uphold your end of the deal."

"What deal?" Ryuji asks.

"The deal! The one where I lead you into the Castle, and you help me out after."

Ryuji regards Akira. "You remember saying anything like that?"

"Nope."

"Wh-what? Are you kidding me? You guys have to help me delve into-"

Ryuji palms the air. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Morgana? I mean, we appreciate the help and all, but we never said we'd go 'delving' with you." He straightens and to Akira, says, “C’mon man, let’s get out of here.”

“Heyheyhey!” Morgana moans, still flat on the ground. “I know you’re not thinking of ditching me! After all I did for you?”

Akira crouches by the prone cat. “We didn’t make a deal, Morgana. I don’t have a problem helping you, but we need to get back to our world now. We’ll come back.”

“You’re just saying that to get out of your commitment!”

“Dude, we never committed!”

Ryuji taps Akira’s shoulder, and the two bid farewell. They drag themselves down the drawbridge as Morgana calls after them, “You damn cheapskates!”

#

Ryuji sets down his chopsticks. "Okay,” he says. “It's tragic backstory time."

Akira looks up from his bowl, a series of noodles hanging from his lips. "Hm?"

After their return, both had found themselves too wired just to go home. Ryuji suggested a ramen shop he’d wanted to try. Akira had agreed.

"C'mon, man. I mean, I read all that stuff about you online too. But I don't buy for a second that you assaulted some guy. You're way too chill."

Akira stares. Well, why not? He's yet to explain what happened to anyone. Most know only the official lie. Akira's truth is unheard.

"It was a couple of months ago, back in my hometown." He relates the story.

Once finished, Ryuji pounds his fist onto the table. "That asshole!" People turn and stare. Akira pats Ryuji's shoulder, pleadingly.

"Calm down."

"But, he seriously got the woman he was assaulting to testify against you?"

"Yeah. I couldn't believe it either." Akira sighs. "I kept waiting for someone to tell me it was all a joke. I felt like I was on one of those weird hidden camera shows, you know? But I got arrested, put on trial, sent to juvy, and no one said anything." He stares down at his bowl. “I remember thinking, ‘it’ll work out.’ It had to, right? I did the right thing, so I should’ve been found innocent. Even after everything else, I thought that. Then the judge said I was guilty.”

"It's like that everywhere, huh?" Ryuji mumbles. "Some people think they can just walk over everyone else. It makes me so damn mad." He lets out a long sigh and looks at his friend. "I'm real sorry that happened to you, man."YOUR

Akira feels as if something has dislodged in his chest. He takes the glasses from his face and rubs his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Ryuji asks.

"Yeah," Akira replies. "It's just... you believe me."

"Well, duh. Of course I believe you, dude." Ryuji is wearing his now-familiar grin. "We're friends, right?"

Akira smiles. He sets the glasses back on his face. "We are.”

Someone believes him.

Someone believes him.

"So, what about you?" Akira asks.

"What'd you mean?"

"You said, 'tragic backstory time.' What was all that stuff in the Castle with Kamoshida? I think you said, at one point, that he broke your leg?"

Ryuji groans and drops his head. "Man, that whole thing." His brows furrow and he asks, "What exactly have you heard about me at school?"

"I've only been there for two days. Most of what I've heard is about me."

Ryuji smiles. "That makes sense. So, it's like this. I used to be on the school's track team. I wasn't a star or nothin', but I was pretty good. Everyone was. I still don't know why, but the school decided to hire Kamoshida as an assistant track coach. I guess it was because he was an Olympic Medalist, and having him working for the school would help with its rep.

"Shit got terrible, right off the bat. First, Kamoshida pulled some strings and got our head coach fired. Then, he started having us do these insane practices. I mean, I had no problem working hard, but these were crazy. No one, I don't care how tough they are, could've handled his training regimen. That's when I got suspicious. He kept saying that he wanted to be a part of the volleyball team and that we were just dead weight. At first, I thought it was just him blowing off steam.

"It wasn't, though. The guy was nuts. He targeted anyone who stood up to him."

Akira straightens. "And let me guess, you stood up to him."

Ryuji blushes and rubs the back of his head. "Not exactly. Not in a way that counted. When I started makin' noise, Kamoshida, well, he started talking shit about my mom. I mean, that's a whole other story. I don't even know how he found out about that stuff, but he just kept repeating it to me, practice after practice, right in front of everyone! I tried to deal. I really did."

"That's horrible."

"It just got worse and worse. One day,” and he pauses. Takes a breath. “One day, I couldn't take it anymore. He said the same old shit, and I lost it. I took a swing at him. The next thing you know, I'm on the ground, and my leg’s twisted up."

"He really broke it?"

"Self-defense, which isn't even technically a lie. It's just that Kamoshida provoked me. And like an idiot, I played right into his hands. That was all he needed to get the track team disbanded. He got to focus on all his volleyball shit after that. He also made sure that everyone knew it was my fault the team got canned. Everyone thinks I'm some crazy-ass punk who just wanted to attack a teacher. They call me 'track traitor' and shit like that."

A smile suddenly spreads across Ryuji's face, and he leans back and sighs. "Anyway, that's my story. Not as bad as yours though."

"Are you kidding?" Akira asks. "A teacher broke your leg, harassed you nonstop, and ruined your reputation."

"Yeah, but it's not like I've got a criminal record. I didn't have to go to court or anything. My mom apologized on my behalf, so they let me stay in school. Kamoshida made a big showing out of 'giving me a second chance,' that asshole."

The two boys sit in silence for a time, staring ahead.

"Hey, Akira?" Ryuji finally says.

"Yeah?"

"We're taking Kamoshida down."

"Hell yeah."

#

Once back in his room, Akira collapses onto his cleared-off couch.

He feels as if he has forgotten something, but he can't remember what it is. Instead, his thoughts drift back to the Castle. Specifically, the Hall of Pleasure. Something about the place tugs at his mind.

He cycles through the faces of the girls, one at a time. He stops when he gets to the girl in the lingerie. The one with the brown hair. The one with the eyes so bright they almost seem red.

Makoto Niijima. The Student Council President.

"Oh, shit," he says to the air. He was supposed to have met up with the Student Council President to study.

The fresh wave of panic is quick to subside.

One missed study session isn't the end of the world.

Besides, he’s Shujin’s resident delinquent. She probably expected him not to show up. She probably hadn’t shown up herself.

Makoto Niijima. If she was present as a cognition inside Kamoshida’s Castle, that meant he had designs upon her. Still, the sick man seemed – both times – more interested in Takamaki than anyone else. Perhaps that meant the Student Council president was safe, for now. It was more vital that they get to the abused students. They would be the ones to give testimony against Kamoshida.EYES

Beyond the immediate need to get rid of Kamoshida, Akira’s mind cycles through all he’s learned about the Metaverse. Or rather, Akira’s mind populates with dozens of questions for which he has no answers. Carefully, Akira pulls out his phone and checks the app. It remains, and for the first time, he notices its title. Navigator.

Akira closes out of the app and stands. His limbs are very heavy. Exhausted, he changes and gets into bed.

#

Chains. Moans. The stench rising from the cell’s toilet. Akira's eyes open, and he knows he has returned to the Velvet Room. He sits up and glances out the cell door to find Igor at his desk.

"Welcome back."

Akira drags himself and his chains to the cell door. He grips the cold iron bars and says, "I need to know what's going on. Are you a dream or real, or what?"

“Yes,” Igor replies.

There is a skittering in the dark behind Igor, an impression of movement. Akira swallows. The attendants. He recalls them well. He would rather not.

Igor ignores what is behind him. His head tilts in an avian fashion, quick and blinking. "I see you have made proper use of the Navigator."

It takes a moment for Akira to understand what Igor is saying. “Are you the one who put it on my phone?"

A phlegmy hiss bites out of the darkness, YOUASKTOOMANYQUESTIONSINMATE

The words rattle his teeth, and Akira knows what is coming, and he shuts his eyes as the spider-thing hurls itself from the dark. He retreats, cowers, feels the thing on the other side of the bars. Its breathing is slow and wet, and something drips from it and steams upon the stone floor. It smells like bile.

"Now, now, Caroline," Igor says, his voice soothing. "Such lack of manners is unbecoming."

Another voice echoes from above. "Return to the black, sister."

Akira senses the thing's retreat as another presence takes its place. He keeps his eyes shut. Caroline and Justine. Igor had called them attendants. In truth, they are nightmares. The latter's voice is as smooth as a song, but she is - in her own way - worse than the horror that is Caroline.

A deep chuckle echoes from the spaces between Igor's teeth. "Perhaps dears, it would be easier on his nerves were you to be heard and not seen. Such is the frailty of the human mind."

"Very well," Justine says. "Open your eyes, inmate. You shall see only what you can comprehend."

He inches them open. Igor sits at his desk, alone. The presence of the two terrors still hangs like diseased air, but this is better, at least.

"I often misremember how the human mind catalogs the girls. You have my condolences."

Akira stands. "Please, just tell me what's going on."SEE

"You have stepped onto the path of your rehabilitation. You have summoned your Persona. You have formed a bond."

"A bond? Do you mean, Ryuji?"

Justine's voice echoes from nowhere and everywhere. "Such bonds will serve you well in the days to come. Cultivate them, lest you shall wither."

REVERALSSPELLFAILUREFORYOUINMATE

Akira cringes at Caroline's onslaught. "But what does-"

Igor cuts him off. "Gather people to you, Trickster. These bonds will allow you the abilities of stronger and stronger Personae."

"Isn't my Persona, Arsene?"

"Were you of the understanding you could wear only one mask?"

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but the violent ring of an alarm is all that leaves him. He clutches his throat, but the rattling will not stop.

"It appears we are out of time. Farewell, but do not forget to consider the question posed to you." As Akira's vision fades, he sees Igor's smile grow. "How far are you willing to go for your rehabilitation?"

And as everything turns black, Akira feels a snaking presence of something rear itself near the bars of his cage, and Justine whispers, in a voice so low Akira images Igor cannot hear, “What can’t your eyes see?”