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Makoto isn’t strong enough to handle Maruki’s illusions.
The other Thieves see her as some fountain of inner strength, but even now after re-awakening her Persona, she keeps the illusion of Dad in her apartment. Such a fantasy brings no real growth, let alone catharsis– and yet, her heart denies the truth.
She chooses to see Dad by the stove and to smell Dad’s chicken katsu wafting in the air. Sis’s laugh echoes in the background, and for a brief moment, Makoto feels like a little girl again.
“Hey, you’re just in time. Dinner’s ready,” Dad calls as he pours katsudon into a serving bowl. “Could you get the rice out, Makoto?”
“Already done,” Sis says, beaming from head to toe, as she grabs plates and utensils. “I thought of everything today.”
Makoto’s stomach churns with dismay.
Dad has to go. Sis can’t be another unwitting victim of this fool’s paradise– but Makoto’s the one keeping them both prisoner. Perhaps that’s the cruelest intention of all. Neither Dad nor Sis could really consent to such a pleasant meal.
(But if they could, they wouldn’t have stayed. Their sense of justice was far too strong– and more powerful than hers.)
Makoto forces herself to leave with a hasty excuse about a last-minute study group. While Dad and Sis exchange odd looks, they say little to dissuade her. Makoto has no idea how to feel about the fact that she’s walking out the door– when prior to today - to this strange illusion - she would have given up the whole universe for this moment.
It’s not real, she has to remind herself. Only a fool would indulge in such whims.
If she lingered in that kitchen, she would betray everything the Thieves represented. Her own rebellious spirit would have been extinguished, and all for stupid, brainless sentimentality. Dad himself wouldn’t have understood– and Sis wouldn’t have, either. Their moral compasses were too strong for such illusions.
As the door closes behind her, Makoto fights back a sigh and pulls out her phone. Automatically, she skims the contact list in search of someone to talk to. Someone who would understand the shadows she had yet to properly banish.
Ideally, she would call their fearless leader (who had seen through the lies from the very beginning) or maybe Haru– someone else whose heart had ached for a lost parent. In the end, her fingers hover over Ryuji’s number. She calls him as she leaves the building, taking shelter underneath its awning.
“Hey?” Ryuji’s confusion is loud and clear. “Is something wrong, Makoto? You don’t usually call this late.”
“Um…” Makoto hesitates. No use in lying to him, but– “Maybe? I don’t know. Are you free right now?”
“For you? Always.” The phone picks up loud static, and the sound of several things rustling in the background. “I was just playing video games, but, hey. What about a game of darts at Penguin Sniper?”
“What about your homework?” She tries to tease, if only to make some small part of her life feel normal. “Would you still have time for that?”
“It’ll be done by homeroom tomorrow,” Ryuji groans. “This isn’t even the real world, you know. I doubt my homeroom teacher’s gonna care…”
“In other words, it’ll be done two minutes before the bell rings.” As much as Makoto wants to judge Ryuji’s terrible work ethic, she feels a mild obligation to help, too– “Why don’t you bring it over, and we’ll work on it after the game?”
“Really?” Ryuji perks up. The phone picks up a lot of rustling and scuffling, no doubt from him moving around so much. “You’d do that for me?”
“Well, you’re helping me out right now. It’s the least I could do,” Makoto laughs. “So I’ll see you there in a little bit?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Ryuji says, almost muffled by his own movements– “Let’s show those darts who’s boss.”
Penguin Sniper is quieter without Ren. Then again, the vast, open space of the darts club feels always smaller without the rest of the Thieves. Another pang of guilt washes over Makoto as she ascends the stairs and walks inside. She could always call the others and see who else’s free, but… she can’t bring herself to try.
This kind of conversation feels too personal for everyone else to hear. She’ll confess her sins later, once she’s banished her personal demons and solidified her conviction.
“Makoto!” Ryuji calls out to her, waving from a nearby table.
She joins him with two glasses of ginger beer in hand. She slides one down towards him with a simple, “Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem.” He accepts the glass, setting down the soft tip darts he had borrowed from the club.
At this point, Ryuji normally talks a mile a minute to anyone and everyone present. Tonight, however, he looks at Makoto with an odd, pensive sort of expression. He’s quiet. Too quiet.
Makoto laughs, if only to ward off her nerves– “So! What game are we playing today?”
“301.” Ryuji takes a sip of his drink. His eyes twitch as he swallows down another gulp– the drink must be more sour than Makoto thought. “We usually play 501 when we’re with Renren, but I figure, let’s relax a little.”
A smart move. Makoto can’t exactly unburden her heart and concentrate on a proper game of darts at the same time. Ryuji had thought this through– a surprising but pleasant first for him.
“Sounds good.” She grabs her own drink, downing it whole before grabbing a couple of darts. Her drink’s nonalcoholic, but she sure could use the burst of energy from her soda. “I’ll go ahead and start, then.”
When she’s with the others, a game of darts feels almost mindless. Sure, she does mental math every turn– that’s the point of their game. They have to score 301 points in five turns, with marginal room for error. 501 is much harder, but 301 feels achievable. All she has to do is aim for the bullseye and hope she can hit it twice.
Makoto stands straight, rolling her shoulders back before launching a throw.
Bullseye.
Ryuji cheers, “Way to go!”
Makoto aims again. Another bullseye. She throws the final dart, and it lands in the ‘20’ spot. 301-120– Take 300 minus 120 and add a one– 181.
She gives Ryuji a high-five as he takes the darts from her.
“Your turn,” she beams, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins.
“We may even finish early,” Ryuji jokes, returning that grin as he launches the first throw.
Bullseye. Another throw; his aim is impeccable. Final throw is another bullseye.
“You’re doing well,” Makoto remarks as she sips on her drink.
Ryuji puffs out his chest with pride. “I’d better hope I am. How often do we come over, again?”
“More often than the batting cages,” Makoto has to admit, with a sudden relief rolling through her blood at the realization.
She’s never been much for typical athletics. Between aikido and judo lessons, she didn’t really have the time – and when school clubs were recruiting, she wasn’t particularly interested. Even running for Student Council had been Sis’s suggestion. Makoto had excelled, but then again, she always strove for excellence. She threw her entire soul into her studies.
Her past self would be ashamed to see her now, ignoring her studies in favor of a game of darts. Ryuji was a terrible, terrible influence. Then again, their current lives were flickering illusions. Makoto couldn’t ascertain if their grades still mattered. She hoped that they would, but the uncertainty of it all unnerved her.
As she accepted the feather-light darts in hand, she launched one towards her target. A weight falls off her shoulders– literally.
Ryuji’s mere presence, somehow, eases her heart. He doesn’t even try. He just stands by her side with that stupid, goofy, laissez-faire grin of his, and the world stands still. Even the buzz and chatter of Penguin Sniper ceases as the dart hits bullseye.
“Hell yeah!” Ryuji’s whooping and hollering as if they’d won a big match, and he holds his hand up out for a giant high-five, and–
His smile is blinding, almost as if he’s gobbled up the entire sun in his wake. Makoto can’t stop staring at him.
“Huh?” His laugh is nervous and a little awkward– “You gonna leave me hanging?”
She likes him, of all people. She likes Ryuji Sakamoto, and she doesn’t know how or when it even started– and worse, she’s not sure she wants to tamper down such feelings. Her heart is beating, loud and clear, as the world snaps into perfect clarity.
“O-of course not,” she stammers out, hastily slapping his hand.
She doesn’t miss the gentle, shy smile emerging on his face, let alone just how long he stares at their connected hands.
“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, squeezing her fingers.
Makoto fights back a squeak as she peers down at their hands. “Y-yeah. I guess it did.”
They play another round of darts. As she takes her turn, Makoto decides to tell Ryuji the worries gnawing at her heart. She tells him about Dad’s presence weakening her resolve, and how she finds their current mission that much more difficult.
Two bullseyes, like usual. The game’s easier, somehow, when she’s not thinking about her aim or stance.
She expects Ryuji to tell her to knock it off, and to steel her heart to make this easy and–
“I don’t think that makes you weak.” Ryuji’s expression grows solemn as he looks back at her. “It makes you human, Makoto. If my dad weren’t a piece of shit, I might’ve wanted the same thing.”
Makoto blinks, giving him her full attention. “Yeah, but Haru and Futaba were also able to dispel their illusions. Shouldn’t I be able to do the same?”
“But you’re not Haru or Futaba. You’re student council prez Makoto. You can’t exactly be someone you aren’t, y’know?”
Makoto freezes. Her last dart lands squarely on ‘5’ – and the entire game is thrown. “What do you..”
Ryuji leans on the table, resting both elbows on the edge. “I mean, you keep comparing yourself to everyone else. Like you gotta hit the bullseye every time. Which like, is totally normal. I feel like that a lot. But sometimes, you gotta forget the score and ask yourself what you really want. That’s why you realized Maruki was lying, right? Why you got Johanna and everything?”
She nods, fixated on the man who is somehow Ryuji and not at all. “Yeah, of course.”
“Then you’ll let go when you’re ready,” he says, with zero doubts or hesitation. His confidence is unearned, yet earnest in its conviction. He even gives her one of his self-assured grins, with an air of conspiracy, “The way I see it, you’re gonna confront your problems head-on anyway. Why make yourself feel worse about how long it takes?”
“You make it sound like I’m wallowing in misery,” Makoto remarks, fighting back a laugh.
Ryuji snorts. “Naw. If you were really wallowing, you wouldn’t be here with me. You’d be studying for some exam or somethin’.”
“Studying?” Makoto has to laugh, for real, at the absurdity of an idea. “As in, what I do anyways?”
“Okay, I walked into that one.” Ryuji groans, exaggerating his displeasure as he takes a few darts and swaps places with her. “I just think, I don’t know, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’ll get there. You just gotta believe in yourself.”
He grabs the darts from the board, only to turn around and hand them back to her in a silent offering.
Makoto shakes her head, leaning on the table. “It’s your turn. You earned it.”
His laugh is loud, and yet comforting in its sincerity, “Well, okay. Don’t say I didn’t try.”
Their last few games are a total wash. Makoto doesn’t remember the score, let alone if she hit the bullseye. (A first for her, if she has to be truly honest.) All she remembers is Ryuji whooping and cheering her on, and her ever fluttering heart every time he drew near.
This time, it’s Ryuji who nudges her out the door, waiting for her to finish every drop of ginger beer.
He also walks back with her the entire way. Makoto had insisted on walking alone, or at least splitting up at the train station, but Ryuji saw past every flimsy excuse. He walked by her side the whole way, bumping up against her shoulder more often than usual. He was awfully close. Too close, and yet Makoto couldn’t bring herself to say a single thing.
“The crowds are still pretty bad,” he had said, with that casual, disarming smile. “We’d get lost otherwise.”
If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve assumed Ryuji were actually flirting with her. Thing is, Ryuji is more oblivious than the sun. For all of his grand talk about women and dates, he wouldn’t know a real confession if it smacked him right in the face. Then again, Makoto had been accused of the same herself. They were strangely alike, in that way.
In a sense, she’s grateful for his obliviousness. Her friendship with Ryuji was one of her biggest comforts. Their entire relationship is based on mutual respect and trust. Anything more might wreck that delicate balance. Her poor heart couldn’t handle something more.
Sure, she went on fake dates with Ren all those months ago, but Ren was naturally suave and charming. He possessed an otherworldly aura not unlike Morgana, with the confidence to match. Ryuji, on the other hand, was a big golden retriever. Ryuji was reliable, and yet somehow exactly where she wanted him to be.
She lingers by his side a second too long as they approach her building. She wants to reach out and hold his hand, and to squeeze it tight again. His palms, back in Penguin Sniper, had been sweaty but warm– and so much larger than hers.
As they stand by a corner, tucked away from the street, Ryuji closes the distance between them. “Makoto? Everything okay?”
You’re too close, she wants to say. Ryuji Sakamato is so, so dangerously close– and he’s oblivious to the turmoil that he caused in her brain.
When she doesn’t respond, Ryuji leans forward and brushes her hair back, tucking a few strands behind her hair. “Makoto?”
“Ryuji!” She hisses, stepping back out of pure instinct. “You’re supposed to ask before you do something like that!”
“You weren’t answering a single thing I said!” He sighs, giving her a disappointed look. “How else was I supposed to bring you back to Earth?”
“I don’t know? Literally anything else?”
“In that case, um…” Ryuji swallows, leaning down and craning his head towards hers. “Makoto, I might be totally misreading things here, and I’m probably way off base given how you’ve been, ‘cause anyone would be shaken up with what you’ve got at home–”
“You can kiss me.” Makoto meets his gaze, standing on her tiptoes.
“Oh.” Ryuji coughs. “Okay, I– huh?” The full force of his words hits him like a brick and he’s staring at her as if she’s grown three heads. “What did you just say?!”
Makoto freezes. Oh God, she had misread the entire situation, and her golden retriever of a friend held absolutely no romantic feelings for her– “Wait, you didn’t want to?”
“Uh, of course I do! I just… uh, I wasn’t ready.” Ryuji licks his lips, the unthinking idiot, as he meets her gaze. His expression grows unreadable, with sudden gravitas, “Just uh, slap me or something if you don’t want it anymore because now I can’t stop talking and–”
Makoto brushes her lips against his, reaching out to hold the base of his head with her free hands. Her entire body’s trembling as she gives him another peck, only for Ryuji to hold on as he returns the kiss. His affection is quick and chaste, with an even quicker release.
“You were too fast,” Makoto chided, as she pulled him back towards her. “Kiss me again.”
“Hey! This isn’t some math problem where speed actually matters and– Mmph!”
Makoto ran her hands through his hair as she stole another kiss from his lips. According to josei manga, kisses were supposed to be sloppier in real life, with all of the pent up energy and frustration unleashed onto the person she cares for. She’s going a lot faster than she ever imagined, but then again– this whole world was built on her fantasies. One more indulgence wouldn’t hurt. Their lips brush again and again, and only when Makoto needs to breathe that she lets go.
“Wow.” Ryuji’s voice cracks as he looks down at her. Even his ears are burning a deep, deep red. “I, um. What does this mean now?”
“I don’t know.” Makoto brushes her hair behind her ears as she avoids his gaze. “What should it mean?”
“That you’ve officially lost your mind.” Ryuji fights back a stupid, wide grin as he basks up at the sky. “Or maybe I’ve gone nuts, because um. I–I didn’t think you actually liked me back.”
“You like me?” Makoto must’ve misheard him. Her heartbeat was so loud and fast that it seemed to drown all else, including Ryuji’s words. He must’ve said something else, like… like that he didn’t hold a crush, or that he wasn’t into her. Because he seemed to go for girls like Ann or Haru. “Since when?”
“I don’t remember.” His candor frightens her. “I guess I knew by Christmas? It wasn’t totally at once, either. It felt kind of gradual, rather than some kind of cheesy love at first sight kind of thing.”
Bit by bit, in the same way she had grown to cherish her friendship with Ryuji. Bit by bit In their long texts about new ramen haunts, or random shounen manga, or even homework help (when she had the time to sit through his attempts at math or literature). Bit by bit in their games of darts or attempts at the batting cage. Bit by bit through their Showtime attack, or in being paired together to watch over the safe room in each Palace.
“I… see,” was all Makoto could manage to say.
“That is, um.” Ryuji rubs the back of his neck, turning to face her. “I totally botched that, but I really like you, Makoto. Even though um, I think we got it kind of backwards? I should’ve asked you out first, right?”
“Well, if you’re asking me out now, I accept.” Makoto feels her worries disappear as she peers up at him.
Ryuji grins. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
He lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging with clear relief. “Wow. Somehow, I thought it would be a lot harder.”
“Well, I did forget to help you with your homework,” she has to confess, fighting back a smile. “So, you know…”
Ryuji grimaces. “I was hoping you’d forget.”
Makoto has to laugh as she pulls out her keys and turns to face the elevators. “Our grades do matter, Ryuji. Even if um, our teachers may have different priorities right now.”
It’s too late to invite him in. Her illusion of Dad wouldn’t have approved– and in the real world, Sis would’ve shown Ryuji the door. Yet she wishes she had remembered her promise to him, rather than forgetting everything in the game.
“Tomorrow, then,” he says quickly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll bring my homework up to the student council room, and you can walk me through it.”
Makoto blinks. “You sure?”
“I don’t think we’re meeting up tomorrow. Ren would’ve texted us about it.”
“Let’s do it, then.” Makoto can’t believe her first ‘real’ date with Ryuji will be a study date, of all things, but she promised. “Unless we’re called into a sudden emergency meeting.”
“Oh, right.” Ryuji freezes. “What should we tell the others? About us, I mean? Now that we’re uh, something?”
“Nothing.” Makoto swallows, feeling like a deer in headlights. “I mean! I like you. I really do, Ryuji, but I don’t um– I feel like it’ll get way too complicated if everyone else knows.”
“No, I get you.” Ryuji coughs, turning his head to the side to avoid her gaze. “They’ll make things super awkward. I mean, we’ll hafta tell ‘em at some point. Renren really thinks he’s being slick with his girl, but…”
“Everyone can see it?” Makoto finishes for him, bouncing on her heels.
Ryuji laughs. “They’re so obvious! Like, did you see the way they were all over each other in Shibuya the other day?”
“And then how they tried to brush it off as friendly concern? Yeah. I can’t believe Yusuke fell for their lies.”
“Okay, but you totally heard Akechi gagging in the corner, right?”
Makoto giggles. “He was so pissed!”
“Right?! I wish I could’ve recorded the whole thing.”
They’re both laughing now, almost leaning into each other’s sides. Makoto has to affirm as she reluctantly pulls away towards the door– “So, of course, we’ll have to tell the team about us.”
“After we take Maruki’s treasure,” Ryuji nods. “No point in distracting them now.”
“How oddly wise of you.”
“I can be smart sometimes… Hey. Wait, what do you mean, oddly?!”
Makoto shoots him a dangerous grin as she reaches for the doorknob and tells him good-night. While she may not yet be strong enough to handle Maruki’s lies, she knows now, more than ever, that she doesn’t have to handle them alone.