Work Text:
Akira stared at the page in his hand, the thrum of energy startling him. Zionga. Well he supposed he could use this since Ryuji needed to take a backseat to recover for the journey back up to the top of Mementos.
“Well, that certainly was unexpected” Yusuke mused glancing over his shoulder at the page. He frowned slightly.
“I don’t remember giving you a blank skill card to work on” Joker adds staring down at the card, it would be useful after Skull ate dirt on that last battle but still…
“Oh, it wasn’t on a skill card, I was just sketching, What do you think Joker?”
Joker spins the card in his hand and in a flash it disappears down his sleeve.
“I’ll give it to the Ippon-Datara I picked up back there, until Ryuji rests up enough to go back on the frontlines.”
“Ah so it did end up being an electric skill”. Yusuke was still frowning to himself though, muttering under his breath as he adjusted his grip on his sketchbook. Akira shook his head slightly and left him to it. Normally he simply had Yusuke copy higher level skills and it had been awhile since he really needed a card from him.
Fox jolted slightly as Makoto turned the wheel hard to avoid a shadow, the sketchbook tumbling to the ground and for a second the edges of his drawing shimmered, a Jack Frost caught mid summon seemed to glitter and reflect, leaving an after image in the air. Fox blinked and reached out to grab the book back from the ground, brushing off some stray frost from the edge of the page. He frowned at it, willing it to reveal its secrets, and then promptly got distracted by an errant line and decided he could redraw the image better.
Waking up in the cell was odd, almost as if he was still dreaming. Seeing Joker, free on the other side, hearing his words... it was like waking up, like a rebirth but without the pain of tearing off nails and masks, just the feeling of something settling back into place, a reemergence of purpose. They weren’t dead, it was time to stop the metaverse from merging with the real world.
As he made his way back to the others he couldn’t help but marvel at his surroundings. This place was clearly not part of the real world and yet, compared to the palaces and mementos it was strangely familiar. He could hear Panther and Skull talking amongst themselves up ahead, surely just one more turn and he’d see them and yet. The artist paused, a fork in the road, on one hand reconvening with the thieves but on the other..
Piano notes drift through the air and Fox walks towards it. The noise of the thieves, now including Queen from the sound of it, start to drift off in the distance and soon all he can hear is the piano and a woman’s voice, gently singing along.
Fox walked on into the deeper blue of the halls, past the cells. Up ahead was the back of a man sitting in front of the piano and beyond him the silhouettes of two others. Fox took a step forward. He took another.
The familiar rectangular shape of a canvas and a man in front coming into view. Fox took another step, the sound of piano fading, the soft sound of a brush of paint across a canvas. He reached out his hand. Yusuke’s eyes widened and then-
“Fox? Are you okay?” He jolted back to himself, Noir’s concerned eyes meeting his own.
“I-”
“It’s time for the trickster to join us” a small girl with flowing white hair appeared in front of them, drawing their attention towards the emerging shape of their leader. Fox’s eyes caught on the shine of the girl’s butterfly hairpin. His fingers itched to draw as his previous thoughts slipped from his mind.
It was over. Mementos was gone. The phantom thieves were retired. Akira was gone.
Yusuke found himself staring into empty spaces in between subways and school. He found his eyes drawn to a shade of blue that seemed to escape his palette every time he tried to recreate it. He wished Akira was here. He’d let him ramble on about art but would stop him if he started going down an inconceivable path. He missed the way he would sheepishly smile before committing to whatever pose he requested from him in full Joker style.
His fingers itched.
He’d been painting, in between their efforts to free him. His projects for school all seemed to be steeped in blue. Hifumi had commented on it. Asking if he was in his “blue period” but Yusuke has shrugged her off.
He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something, as he stared at the space behind the model gun store where Ryuji and Makoto were consulting with the owner. Something about the alley felt wrong. Almost as if…
The doorbell chimed and he found himself the new owner of an upgraded version of the model he used to use in the metaverse. Ryuji scratching his head while Makoto brought a hand to her chin in contemplation over the bags in front of her.
“Iwai said he doesn’t need these anymore” was the only explanation he received after Makoto had divvied up the bags between them. Which was hardly an explanation but Yusuke was too busy trying to remember what it was he had been contemplating to ask for more information.
For an artist, dreams are an important resource. They allow your subconscious to come in contact with your waking conscious, leading to perhaps more honest art. Or at least Yusuke liked to think so after his third dream that week wherein the thieves took him to an all expenses paid buffet.
This dream started out the same way. Ann leading him forward, giggling over all the desserts and then suddenly the hand that was pulling him forward was gone and he was left in that empty hallway with the piano and the blue.
Fox blinked. The cell doors were all open. He walked forward.
The hallway opened up into a large circular room. Smaller cells branched off from the sides. The one across from him was slightly bigger, big enough to fit a cot. He stepped into the room, realizing as he grew closer that the cot was occupied by a familiar figure.
“Jok-“
“Shhh” Fox jumped back as the girl, Lavenza his mind supplied, appeared in front of him again.
“The trickster is resting now” she whispered, grabbing his gloved hand and guiding him away.
“Ah, the Emperor. I must say this visit is unexpected” a man with a large nose, situated behind a desk Fox had failed to notice earlier interjected.
Fox blinked and reached for a sketchbook that wasn’t there. He felt the girl giggle beside him.
“While nothing here happens without reason, I believe we are not the ones who summoned you here” the man continued. Fox cocked his head to the side, wondering how he could frame the head in a drawing and still capture the man’s nose.
“This way” Lavenza’s voice cut through his musings as she pulled him along.
He followed, endeared over the sway of the girl’s hair against her butterfly headband and the way she seemed to be practically skipping along.
She spoke to him as they walked. Mostly about things that made little sense to Yusuke. Something about Arcana’s and fusions and guillotines. She stopped abruptly in front of a wooden blue door.
“The one who called you waits inside” and then she was gone.
Fox took a breath and pushed.
The door swung open soundlessly.
The room itself was small. Blue like everything else here but on the walls were millions of paintings. The contents of each shifting and fading in and out of view. It was disorientating and so, for once Fox looked away from the paintings and towards the figure in the center.
It was a man in front of an easel. His paint brushes and pallets lay scattered around him as the man stared at the blank canvas.
Fox blinked and took another step into the room.
“Are these your paintings?” He asked.
The man turned and looked at Yusuke.
“I must apologize”
“Apologize?”
The man nodded.
“There’s a picture I wanted to make for you but I can’t seem to get it right”
Yusuke frowned… that sounded familiar in a way that hit too close to home.
“That’s alright, I don’t even know who you are”
The man smiled sadly.
“Traditionally those who visit here call me the Demon Painter, however my name is Walton and while you are welcome to call me this, to answer your question, my name is Saville.”
Yusuke nods. No odder than Igor or Lavenza though…
“Demon Painter?” he asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
The man gives him a wry smile but doesn’t answer, instead opting to dip his brush back to the paint and bring it across the canvas. He paints unlike any mortal man Yusuke has ever seen, the brush strokes somehow both choppy and smooth, every drop of paint falling with purpose and yet, the canvas remains blank to his eyes. His fingers twitch.
“Not to intrude, but are you the one who called me here?”
The man, Saville, cocks his head to the side.
“I did not call you here insomuch that you chose to come back.”
Which… doesn’t necessarily answer Yusuke’s question.
“Well, be that as it may, since I am here, could I partake in a share of your art supplies?”
Saville stares at him, no, he stares through the mask, through the exterior of Fox into Yusuke as a person. Then he blinks and the disconcerting feeling is gone. He shuffles to the side of the canvas he’s working on, grabbing a new palette and applying paint to it.
“Perhaps, with your help, we can create the picture together.”
Yusuke tentatively takes the offered materials.
“You want me to… paint on the same canvas?”
He nods once, back to his flurry of movement. Yusuke sighs and looks down at the materials in his hands. Well, who is he to turn down this opportunity?
After a tentative brushstroke reveals that the paint doesn’t vanish from the canvas, Yusuke gets to work.
He doesn’t even realize the scene he’s painted until he’s nearly done with his side.
It’s the door to the Velvet Room; by it a woman with long dark hair and a kind face. His face heats up with slight embarrassment, the face of the “Saori”, his mother, looks away from the door, to Saville’s side of the canvas and Yusuke follows her line of vision. He’s surprised to see that instead of blank canvas on the man’s side, there is a matching image. A self portrait of Saville, glancing fondly towards Yusuke’s side, towards his mother, a bag of art supplies in his hand. The edges of the painting shimmer and ripple like water.
Curiously Yusuke leans in closer and blinks back his surprise. He no longer sees a painting before him, but a moving image. The man before him reaches out to his mother and she smiles back, rubbing paint on his nose. She blows him a kiss before walking out of view, a faint sound of Sensei- no Madarame’s voice calling her away. The image fades and he’s left staring at the canvas again.
“I-” Yusuke pauses, his eyes are wet.
For a few brief moments there is nothing but the gentle sounds of piano drifting between them.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry I couldn’t be there for you before.” the man before him supplies.
“Is this why I was able to duplicate those skill cards?”
He shakes his head.
“It is possible that you inherited the potential to shape your art into something more in this place, but it is equally possible that the potential was born and resides solely within yourself. That you have found your way back to the Velvet Room, despite our efforts to hide it from those who have not been granted the ability to harness the multitude within themselves, however, may be due to our…” he pauses for a second, trying to choose the right words, “lineage. After all, you still found yourself looking for the door, despite not knowing where it was, did you not?”
Yusuke pauses to consider the man’s words. Akira was the only one who could come and go to this place and the only one among them to hold multiple personas at once, and yet. He had seen the door, hadn’t he?
“Why now?” Fox says, his mask of rebellion comfortably resting against his face. The Demon Painter looks at him and sighs, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder.
“Every man deserves to know where they come from.”
Fox pushes down the anger and the hurt, he peels back the layers to reveal the beauty underneath because that is what Fox does.
“I appreciate the courtesy you’ve extended me” he steps away from the hand on his shoulder, “but my place is not here.”
The man nods.
“You will always have a role to fulfill here, if you choose to join us.”
Fox inclines his head, hands back the palette and nicks the brush.
When Yusuke wakes up, the paintbrush is still held tightly in his hand.