Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

9/27/2027

Iwatodai it's city was lively as ever in the day, with people walking, talking, driving, living out ordinary lives beneath a late-September sky. Neon splashed over department store windows, a busker’s voice rose above the hum of engines, and the sea breeze carried hints of autumn from the bay. But standing tall above it all, as if warding the city against threats unseen, was the headquarters of the Shadow Operatives-a monument to vigilance, and to the legacy of S.E.E.S.

Things were busy inside, even under the steady hand of their new leader, Yuuto Saito. Missions came and went like the tides, new recruits were tested and seasoned alike, and every agent was pushed to their limits, reminded that peace was always fragile, always paid for by unseen battles. If anyone understood this-what it meant to fight alone in the dark and rise again-it was Yuuto.

But far below underground of headquarters, in a training room designed to mimic the Dark Hour, the air was different. Thicker. Closer. Shadows slithered and stalked the room, coalescing with every pulse of the sickly green moonlight conjured by the Dark Hour Box in the corner.

Here, the city’s distant laughter was nothing but a memory. Here, the world was hostile, and everything good seemed impossibly far away.

A slender spear flashed in the gloom-a line of silver slicing through the black. With practiced precision, Kotone twisted her wrists, the spear spinning in her grip, and drove its tip through the mask of a lurching Shadow. It burst into a thousand black motes, but two more closed in at her flanks, gibbering hungrily.

Kotone’s breath came fast, but she didn’t let herself hesitate. Not today.

“Orpheus!” she shouted, voice cracking with strain. The evoker’s cold touch pressed against her temple. She pulled the trigger.

A shock tore through her mind-a familiar agony, both burning and blissful. And in the next instant, her Persona bloomed into existence, her Orpheus, with golden trim along his lyre and red, flame-like accents at his joints. Where Minato’s was pale and cool, hers seemed almost angry, regal, blood-lit. Where it's eyes were blue, Orpheus’s gaze burned red, like embers beneath ashes.

The Shadows recoiled, hissing. But Kotone did not give herself time to be afraid.

“Agilao!” she commanded, and Orpheus responded in a sweep of the lyre. Fire burst across the room, painting the stone with searing orange, banishing three Shadows to nothing. The fourth-a hulking brute-rushed her, claw raised. She spun low, dragging her spear in a crescent, and the tip carved through the Shadow’s shin, sending it tumbling.

For a moment, adrenaline drowned out everything else. This was what she was good at. She could fight-she could win. She would not be left behind. But she was pushing herself too hard, and she knew it.

Already her lungs burned, every muscle in her arms trembling with the effort of keeping the spear up. Sweat trickled into her eyes, stinging. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and every spell left her more drained than the last. Still, she pressed on, calling Orpheus again and again, as if sheer effort could erase the ache in her chest-a hollow place that always whispered, "You’re not enough. You’re only here because they let you be here. You’re a burden... no prove them your not!"

More Shadows appeared and one Shadow lashed out, claws grazing her shoulder. Pain exploded down her arm. She grit her teeth and struck back, legs buckling, barely dodging a second swipe.

Her spear was heavy now-so much heavier than when she’d started-her arms trembling as she pulled it back, sweat running in hot rivulets down her jaw. The Shadows moved relentlessly, flickering and warping in that sickly green Dark Hour light, their forms barely held together by malice and hunger. The air was thick with their presence, oppressive and cold, every breath Kotone took felt like inhaling fog.

A smaller Shadow darted in, jaws wide, and she let out a sharp cry, pushing herself off balance just to avoid its fangs. She swung wide, but her grip faltered, the spear scraping across the floor. Shadows pressed in-she was surrounded. Every instinct screamed at her to keep fighting, to never stop, not when it mattered, not when everyone expected her to be strong.

She squeezed the Evoker in her hand, pressing it to her temple with a shaking hand, and forced herself to shout, “Jack Frost!”

The world flickered, a strange, chill energy pooling at her feet. A stubby, blue-capped snowman materialized with a cheery “Hee-ho!” Jack Frost’s bright grin was such a stark contrast to the darkness that it almost seemed like a joke, but Kotone didn’t hesitate. “Bufula!” she managed, breathless.

A burst of ice erupted, shards spiraling from Jack Frost’s outstretched hands, encasing one of the Shadows in a shell of crystalline frost. It screamed, writhing, before shattering into nothingness. Another lunged for her back, and Kotone spun, the movement almost costing her balance, eyes wild. Her wounds ached, the blood from her shoulder sticky and hot.

She heard her heart in her ears. The pressure was mounting, an avalanche behind her ribs. "Not enough. Not enough. Gotta do better. I can still do this!"

The next Shadow was faster, a sinuous thing with too many eyes. She barely dodged, rolling and feeling every bruise as she scrambled to her feet. “Unicorn!” she cried, the Evoker once more biting cold against her skin. The majestic Persona emerged in a shimmer of light, its horn glinting. Kotone’s voice was hoarse. “Media!”

Healing energy swept over her, closing some of the wounds, but the ache remained, a stubborn fatigue deep in her bones. Still, the Shadows were closing in. She switched again, calling on “Berith!” The knight rider appeared on it's horse with a it's spear. “Agi!”

A gout of flame arced across the floor, driving back two of the Shadows. For a moment, their numbers thinned, and Kotone stood alone, panting, surrounded by swirling motes of darkness. But the training room didn’t let up. The air felt thick as oil. The Dark Hour Box in the corner pulsed, casting an eldritch glow over every corner in the room.

Her arms trembled. Her vision swam. Every time she called a Persona, the feedback felt stronger, harsher, like fire in her veins. Her mind threatened to fracture with each summon, and her body was already stretched to its limits. Still, she pressed the Evoker to her head, again and again, desperate to prove herself, to banish the voice in her mind that said she was only here by luck and pity.

A Shadow managed to get in close, slashing across her side. She gasped, stumbling, the spear falling from her hands with a clatter. "Why am I not strong enough?" She thought, tears of frustration stinging her eyes, "Why can’t I keep up?"

She tried to get up-she had to keep going-but her knees buckled, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The training room pressed in tighter, the simulated night feeling all too real, shadows crawling across the floor, eager to devour the light. The pain from her wounds blurred with the ache of exhaustion, a hollow echo in her chest that grew with every beat of her heart.

But as she was about to force herself upright, everything changed. The Dark Hour’s emerald luminescence flickered and faded. Shadows unraveled into harmless mist. With a mechanical whirr, the Dark Hour Box in the corner powered down, cutting the simulation short. The training room’s oppressive darkness peeled away, replaced by white light and the soft hum of air conditioning, leaving Kotone on her knees, sweat-soaked and shaking, the weight of defeat heavy on her shoulders.

Then she heard her name-gentle, familiar, but carrying an edge of concern. “Kotone?” The sound drifted from the doorway, careful not to startle her.

Blinking through the last traces of disorientation, Kotone looked up and found Sae standing just inside the threshold. Even now, dressed in a navy tunic that gently accentuated her figure, there was no hiding Sae’s pregnancy. At three months along with twins, her silhouette was a little fuller, her movements just slightly slower. Her hand rested protectively on her belly, but her eyes were sharp, searching Kotone’s face for any sign of serious harm.

Sae approached, her shoes making soft clicks on the polished floor. She crouched with a wince-her own body shifting more cautiously these days-and extended a hand. “You’re going too hard on yourself again,” she said, voice low but steady, as if hoping to anchor Kotone back to herself.

Kotone’s eyes dropped, her shoulders curling inward, the shame almost as biting as her injuries. “Sorry, Sae. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I just…” Her voice trailed off, brittle as autumn leaves. She forced herself to look at Sae, eyes flicking to her stomach and back. “Sometimes, I wish you could join me in there. It’s just… easier when you’re fighting by my side.”

Sae managed a small, wistful smile. “I wish I could, too. But being three months pregnant-with twins, no less-I’d only slow you down right now.” She squeezed Kotone’s shoulder, her grip warm and grounding.

With surprising strength, Sae helped Kotone to her feet. Kotone winced, feeling every ache and bruise settle into her bones. The two stood side by side for a moment, breathing in the sterile air. Sae’s expression softened. “Whatever’s in your head.. you need to let it go. You’re more than capable, Kotone. You have the power to change Personas, just like Minato does. Whatever is wrong-”

But Kotone shook her head, brushing sweat-soaked bangs from her eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just… an off day. I’m fine. Just kind of down, that’s all.”

Sae regarded her for a long moment, reading between the lines as only someone who’d carried her own burdens could. Silence hung between them like a curtain, neither willing to pull it aside. Finally, Sae sighed, letting the moment pass without prying further. “Go, get into something comfortable. Training’s over. You’ve done enough for today.”

Kotone offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.” Her voice was soft, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to stop. As she left, Sae watched her go, worry threading through her thoughts. Five months of training, and Kotone’s progress was slower than expected. The lack of growth, the growing self-doubt-that worried Sae more than any physical wound.

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A shower and change later, Kotone felt at least a little more herself. The rough edges of exhaustion dulled beneath the warmth of clean skin and the comfort of a soft, orange dress. She paired it with a beige jacket, letting the fabric settle like armor against the world. On the upper floors, the city stretched out beyond panoramic windows.

She wandered quietly, seeking out a familiar presence. She hoped to see Yuuto-maybe talk, maybe just listen. But as she drew near his office, a sharp, plaintive sound pierced the stillness, a baby crying, shrill and insistent. She paused, startled. The sound was coming from inside Yuuto’s office and peaked inside.

Inside, the fluorescent light was gentle, bouncing off bookshelves and files stacked with careful order. Yuuto stood at his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, trying his best to cradle a tiny, squirming bundle. Asami, just four months old, was red-faced and fussy in his arms, tears streaking her cheeks, little hands clenched as if she could hold the world at bay.

Yuuto’s usually calm expression wavered as he bounced her. “Come on, kiddo… You can’t have forgotten what I look like already, can you?” he said, voice warm with mock exasperation, though a fond smile tugged at his lips. But Asami only wailed louder, arms flailing.

From the front of Yuuto's desk, Mitsuru stepped forward, her composure unbroken even as she accepted the baby with practiced grace. Her hair glinted in the lights from the window, and as she tucked Asami against her shoulder, she murmured, “There’s my little ice cube. Hush now, it’s alright.” Asami quieted almost instantly, sniffling, tiny hands gripping Mitsuru’s lapel.

Minato who was next to Mitsuru, half-shadowed by dusk, eyes calm and blue as the sea at night. He glanced at Yuuto with a faint smirk. “That’s a record. Two minutes before she demands a change of arms. She must know you’re out of your element.”

Yuuto rolled his eyes, letting the gentle banter soften the tension in the room. “I’m a master mixologist, but I guess I'm not a miracle worker for her,” he retorted, and the ghost of a laugh flickered in the air, warm despite everything.

But the atmosphere quickly shifted as Minato grew serious, asking the question on everyone’s mind. “So… why did you call us here?”

For a moment, Yuuto didn’t answer. The hum of the office felt louder for his silence. He was usually so composed, but now his gaze dropped to his hands, thumb rubbing the edge of his wedding band as if to ground himself.

Kotone, just outside the doorway, caught the tension and felt her heart pound. Something was wrong-she could feel it in the air, the way the light flickered across Mitsuru’s features, the slight furrow in Minato’s brow. Her breath hitched, feet rooted to the spot, as if moving closer might change the outcome.

Finally, Yuuto spoke, his voice softer than usual, colored by the weight of what he had to say. “It’s about Kotone.”

Every muscle in Kotone’s body went tight. She pressed a palm against the wall, steadying herself, fear prickling under her skin. Mitsuru’s gaze slid sideways, concern flickering in her eyes.

Yuuto drew in a long, steadying breath. “It’s been months now since Kotone joined us. I’ve seen her fight, seen her grow. She has so much potential-we all know she does. I’ve tried everything to help her improve, even had Ren train with her. We all want her to succeed. But…” He trailed off, looking out over the city lights as if searching for the right words in their glow.

Mitsuru’s expression was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. Minato, too, said nothing, his silence neither condemning nor encouraging-just waiting, patient as the tide.

Yuuto’s voice was steady, but there was sorrow in it now, and maybe guilt too. “But she’s stuck. Something is holding her back, and if she can’t figure it out-if we can’t help her break through-I worry about what might happen on the field. I worry about her safety. We all know the cost of hesitation.”

He stopped, throat working, and it was Minato who prompted him, gentle but insistent. “Yuuto?”

Yuuto’s eyes flicked up, full of that quiet, relentless care he always carried for his team. “If things don’t change… I think it might be best to let her go. Not as a punishment. For her own sake. So she can safe.” His voice broke a little, and he looked away, unable to meet their eyes.

A hush fell across the room. Mitsuru’s lips parted in surprise, concern knitting her brow. Minato’s eyes sharpened, every muscle tense, as if the words alone could summon a new enemy. Even Asami, content in Mitsuru’s arms, stilled for a moment-something about the shift in the air making her tiny fists uncurl.

Then the door slammed open. All eyes snapped to the threshold, where Kotone stood, red-eyed and trembling, framed by the harsh corridor lights. Her voice, raw and shaking, broke the spell. “You’re gonna do what?”

The words crackled in the air, too loud, too honest, echoing off the walls. Yuuto took a step forward, hands raised in a soothing gesture. “Kotone, you shouldn’t-”

But she cut him off, voice rising, desperate. “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be here! Don’t tell me you’re giving up on me-I’m not done! Please, please, just let me stay! I know I’ve been struggling, I know it hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying-really, I am. I don’t want to be let go, I don’t want to be pushed aside, not after everything. I just… I just want to be here. I want to belong somewhere. Please, Yuuto, just give me a chance. Give me something. I need to prove I can do this.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, the plea at the end thick with tears and determination. “If there’s a mission-anything-something that needs what I can do, let me try. Just one more chance.”

The silence that followed was a living thing, pulsing with all the unsaid fears and hopes in the room. Yuuto watched her, the lines of responsibility and worry etched deep into his face, and for a moment he looked much older than thirty-two. Mitsuru’s gaze darted between them, sympathy warring with the steel of leadership. Minato’s jaw clenched, blue eyes filled with a bit of heartache... after all this was his sister.

Yuuto finally spoke, his tone gentle but edged with pain. “Kotone, it’s not about giving up on you. It’s about wanting you to be okay. But if you’re asking for one last chance-”

“I am,” Kotone whispered, fierce. “I need this. Let me prove myself.”

Yuuto looked at Minato, silent communication passing between them like a current. Minato nodded, slow and certain, his eyes never leaving his sister’s. “Wait here with Mitsuru,” Yuuto said at last, his voice a careful promise. “Minato and I need to talk.”

As the two men slipped out, Kotone’s composure cracked, her hands clenched tight in her arms, knuckles white against the orange of her dress. Mitsuru crossed to her side, standing with Kotone with something warm and sisterly. Mitsuru was beside Kotone, her hands gentle on the younger woman’s head.

“It's going to be okay,” Mitsuru said quietly, the words almost lost in the hum of the building. “Whatever happens, you are not alone in this." Kotone nodded, but her breath hitched, and she buried her face in her hands.

Yuuto and Minato stood quietly in the hallway outside Yuuto's office, their shadows stretching long across the polished marble floor of the Shadow Operatives’ headquarters. The low hum of ceiling lights overhead barely cut through the heavy stillness between them. The silence wasn’t awkward-it was heavy with thought, introspection, and something unspoken lingering in the air. Yuuto had his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in that way Minato had come to recognize-not anger, but conflict. Deep conflict. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Minato’s calm gaze flickered to Yuuto’s, watching the man’s jaw clench slightly as if sifting through thoughts too complex to voice easily. Yuuto, usually a man of quick reasoning and gentle poise, now looked like someone trying to hold an entire sea of weight behind his eyes.

Finally, Yuuto exhaled. “She overheard everything,” he said, voice low.

Minato didn’t need to speak. The subject had lingered for a while now, unspoken but present-Yuuto questioning Kotone’s ability to truly step into her role as a Shadow Operative. She had potential, yes. A heart that yearned to do good. But there were cracks in her armor, too-hesitation, self-doubt, a tendency to act too much from emotion rather than experience. And Yuuto, ever the realist cloaked in idealism, had reached a point of painful contemplation.

He turned, finally meeting Minato’s gaze. “She said she wants to prove herself.” He paused, his voice tightening. “Like I said... I even had Ren try to help her... He tried to help her on technique, perception, confidence… but if she can’t figure out how to stop self-doubt, or channel what she’s really capable of…”

Yuuto trailed off, then stepped forward slightly, lowering his arms as his fingers laced together, knuckles pale. “I’ve got one mission I could assign her to. Low-risk, on the surface... with a few friends of mine. But the kind of place where cracks show. And I need to know what you think. Because she’s your sister, Minato. And I… I can’t pretend like I’m the only one who cares.”

Minato was silent for a long time, letting the weight of Yuuto’s words rest between them. His own memories began to rise-hazy and painful, yet somehow gentle. Kotone, years ago, giggling too loudly at quiet jokes, clinging to him with childlike energy. When they were separated, it broke her in small ways when she grew up without him. She had always been different from him-softer, even. But there was strength in that softness. A fierce will to protect, a hope that never fully withered even through all the scars time dealt them.

Minato turned his eyes down the long corridor ahead, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “She’s not like me,” he said at last, voice even. “She never was... never will be in some ways. And sometimes… I wish she’d take things a little more seriously. She pushes herself too hard, and then blames herself when she falters... even when she tries not to.” His voice deepened with memory. “But she’s got a good heart. And ever since we reunited… she’s been trying. Really trying. Because she finally feels like she belongs somewhere. The Shadow Operatives gave her a purpose-something she didn’t think she’d ever have.”

Minato’s words were soft, almost reverent, but the weight behind them pressed like thunderclouds about to break. Yuuto watched his brother-in-law, his own heart caught in a slow, persistent ache that lived somewhere between protectiveness and doubt. The hallway felt impossibly long, as if it was made for confessions and choices that would change the shape of people’s lives forever.

Yuuto nodded, but the lines between his brows deepened, reluctant. “If I send her… if something happens…” he started, but Minato gently raised a hand, placing it on Yuuto’s shoulder-steady, the way only someone who’d already walked through fire could be.

“She’s my sister,” Minato said, his voice strong now, a rare, almost imperceptible smile breaking through the gravity of his features. “And, yes, there’s a part of me that wants to keep her away from anything dangerous, to keep her in a place where nothing can ever hurt her. But if she wants to prove herself, if she wants to stand with the rest of the Shadow Operatives… then I have to let her try.” He looked at Yuuto, and for a moment, their roles were reversed—the younger man steady as a mountain, Yuuto the one wavering in the wind. “If you think this can help, let her go. I’ll trust your judgment. She needs this, Yuuto. And… I need to see her believe in herself.”

Yuuto hesitated, as if the world itself had slowed to a single, critical moment. He looked into Minato’s eyes, searching for even the faintest glimmer of uncertainty, but there was none. Only trust. Only hope. Finally, Yuuto let out a long, slow breath that seemed to take a piece of his own burdens with it. “Are you sure?” Yuuto asked, voice low, as if seeking one last sign.

Minato’s smile returned, a gentle curve-soft, private, but unshakable. “I’m sure.” For a brief, wordless second, the two simply nodded-one movement, two men. The silence between them shifted from heaviness to understanding. A kind of peace. Together, they turned and stepped back through the door into the brightly lit conference room.

Kotone was there, sitting on the edge of a chair with her hands anxiously twisting in her lap, looking like she was doing her best not to bounce out of her seat. The moment the door opened, she looked up, bright hope and brittle nerves all tangled up in her eyes. Yuuto stood in the center of the room, his presence calm but unmistakably commanding, the very image of someone who’d had to become strong to survive. Minato lingered just behind, silent, watchful.

Kotone straightened, heart pounding. “Well? Am I… am I getting another chance?” She bit her lip, knuckles pale against her skirt.

Yuuto’s lips quirked with a rare, almost mischievous smile-a flash of the gentle humor he only showed when he wanted to ease someone’s fear. “If you want to prove to me you can handle being a Shadow Operative… then I have a mission for you.”

Her face lit up instantly, brightening like a window thrown open to summer sunlight. “Really? What is it?!” Her words tumbled over each other in their eagerness.

Yuuto lifted a single brow, voice adopting a playful, mysterious edge. “It’s a place where not much happens… at least, not on the surface. But there are secrets there, things you have to be careful to notice. It can get a little loud, sometimes chaotic, and it’s easy for people to overlook what’s important. It’s not a place that gets much attention-at least, not the right kind. But that means it’s perfect for learning how to blend in, to watch without being seen, to find the truth buried under the noise.”

Kotone’s excitement faltered as she tried to piece it together. Yuuto’s words spun a web of possibilities, each less appealing than the last. He watched as confusion turned to realization, and realization to horror. The color drained from her cheeks. “No…” she whispered, already half-doubled over, hands clutching at her legs as if bracing for disaster. Everyone else stilled, breaths caught. For a long, dramatic moment, the world held its breath with her.

“No-please, not Detroit! Anything but that...” she whimpered, the word bursting out with the helpless dread of someone about to be sent to the world’s most terrifying pit.

A beat of silence, then from the doorway, Asami let out a delighted, hiccupping laugh-sweet and innocent, shattering the tension like glass. Yuuto blinked, then cracked a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You’re not going to Detroit, Kotone.”

Relief flooded her, so powerful she nearly sagged onto the floor. She scrambled to her feet, red-faced and wide-eyed.

“You’re going to Inaba,” Yuuto said, his voice gentling, though the challenge in it was clear.

Kotone blinked a few times, uncertain if she’d heard right. She pushed herself up from the edge of the chair, wiping at her eyes, and stared at Yuuto as if waiting for a punchline. “Wait… Inaba? As in, that Inaba? Where you had your first mission?”

Yuuto’s smile curved with a warmth that softened the edges of his usual composure. “That’s the one,” he replied, his tone carrying memories of the first time he went to Inaba. “It’s the right place. And the right people are there. You’ll find support… and maybe a little bit of trouble, if you know where to look.” He walked to his desk with unhurried grace, fingers trailing over the polished wood. He picked up a slim folder and, after a pause, handed it to Kotone. “This will tell you everything you need. The job’s low-profile, but it’ll test you in ways training never can. And knowing the friends you’ll have there-well, if anyone can help you find your confidence, it’s them. But only if you believe you can do it.”

The folder was light in her hands, but the weight of it pressed on Kotone’s chest. For a heartbeat, the old doubt slithered back in-she could fail. She could freeze up. She could let everyone down, just like the voice in her head always warned.

But no-no, Kotone wouldn’t listen to that voice. Not this time. She met Yuuto’s gaze, searching it for any hint of false reassurance. Instead, she found only quiet trust, patient and unyielding.

She drew in a breath. “I’ll do it,” she said, voice steady, even if her hands trembled. “I want to prove myself… to you, to everyone, but mostly to me.”

Yuuto’s lips twitched in that rare, secret smile-the one that always made her feel a little stronger, a little braver. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.” He rapped his knuckles against the desk, settling the mood with a gentle finality. “You leave tomorrow morning. Get some rest, Kotone. You’ll need it.”

Mitsuru offered a nod, her eyes glimmering with that mix of pride and protectiveness she reserved for those she truly cared for. Minato’s gaze lingered on Kotone-brotherly, watchful, and quietly aching. Kotone clutched the folder to her chest, and for the first time in weeks, the hollowness inside felt just a little less consuming.

Chapter Text

9/28/2027

At her apartment, Kotone paced the living room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes and little essentials strewn across the bed in careful, nervous piles. The morning light was thin and gray, leaking around the faded blinds, giving the small space a quiet, almost underwater calm. Her spear-her constant companion-rested by the window. It looked impossibly out of place amid the scattered notebooks and travel-size bottles of shampoo, like a weapon set down by accident in someone else’s life.

Kotone picked it up, feeling the cool metal beneath her palm. She pressed her thumb against the concealed button near the hilt. With a soft, mechanical snick, the weapon folded in on itself, shrinking down until it was no longer a gleaming lance, but a slender metal rod-barely longer than her forearm. She slid it into a long, padded case, then tucked it gently among her clothes. The case was new, bought specifically for this trip. For this mission.

Mission. The word echoed hollowly in her mind. She turned back to the folder Yuuto had given her yesterday, thumbing through the thin stack of papers. Details, names, addresses-her assignment, clear as day, Shadow activity detected in Inaba. Unknown source. Surveillance and support required for local Investigation Team. Maintain discretion. Report anomalies. Eliminate threats.

It read like a checklist, but Kotone’s heart beat faster as she absorbed the implications. Even with the Investigation Team on site-even with all their years of experience-something felt off. The reports spoke of Shadows appearing in the periphery of town, rumors of odd accidents and surges in emotional unrest. Something new was festering in Inaba, and no one knew why.

This is it, she thought, hands trembling as she reread the mission’s final line, “Trust yourself.”

She closed the folder, hugging it to her chest for a moment. She’d wanted a chance-one last chance-and here it was. She’d fight for her place, for her worth, for whatever it was that had cracked inside her heart but refused to break.

Kotone drew in a slow, trembling breath. She pressed her forehead to the cool cardboard, letting her eyes close, feeling the folder’s edges dig gently into her skin-a tangible anchor in the whirlwind of uncertainty. The room was quiet, but her thoughts churned with the weight of all that had led her here: the months of exhaustion, self-doubt, aching hope. This was it. There would be no turning back.

She straightened, wiping at her face with the heel of her palm. "This is something I have to do." She told herself-not for Yuuto, or Minato, or even Mitsuru, but for herself. Because something deep inside her demanded she keep moving forward, even if it hurt.

As the adrenaline faded, practical questions tugged at her. Where would she even stay in Inaba? She rifled quickly through the folder, eyes scanning address after address, hoping for mention of a guesthouse or safehouse. Nothing clear. Was she supposed to just show up and figure it out? A familiar anxiety prickled, but before she could spiral, a sharp, urgent sound cut through her thoughts.

A car horn-deep, authoritative-blared from the street outside, shattering the fragile stillness of her apartment. Kotone startled, heart leaping, and rushed to the window. Below, a black limousine gleamed in the early light, its presence so at odds with the cracked sidewalks and worn storefronts that for a second, it barely seemed real. The passenger door swung open, and Minato stepped out, calm and grave as ever, the wind ruffling his blue hair. He glanced up, eyes meeting hers through the glass, and nodded.

Kotone let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Everything was happening too fast-too suddenly-but she couldn’t allow herself to hesitate. Not now. She gathered her suitcase, zipped it with shaking hands, and tucked her spear case securely on top. She paused for one last look at her home, the faded posters, the chipped mug on the counter, the cluttered stack of books she’d promised herself she’d finish reading someday. Then, jaw set, she turned and hurried downstairs.

The world felt impossibly large and bright as she stepped outside. She blinked against the morning sun, dragging her suitcase across the cracked pavement. Minato was waiting by the car door, hands in his pockets, his expression as hard to read as ever-but Kotone could see the worry etched at the corners of his eyes.

He opened the door for her, and Kotone slid into the backseat, the door closing with a hush that muffled the world outside. The interior was cool, the seats plush beneath her aching muscles. Mitsuru sat opposite, every inch the image of poised elegance, a sleeping Asami cradled in her arms. The baby’s small, perfect hand curled in Mitsuru’s lapel, cheeks pink with sleep.

Kotone felt herself soften. She reached out, gently brushing her niece’s downy hair, and Asami stirred, eyes fluttering open to fix on Kotone with a gummy, innocent grin. The sight made Kotone’s heart catch, somehow, in all the pressure and pain, there was still space for something gentle.

Mitsuru smiled-small, but sincere. “She always perks up when you’re near,” she said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Kotone’s eyes. Then, her tone shifted, earnest and searching, “Are you sure you want to do this? There’s still time to step back.”

Kotone met Mitsuru’s gaze, searching her friend’s eyes for the familiar, unyielding strength. But today, beneath that composure, she glimpsed genuine worry-the kind that lingered even after a smile. Kotone’s heart squeezed, and for a moment, the question echoed in her chest, testing her resolve. She looked down at Asami, at the tiny hand curled in Mitsuru’s lap, then back up.

“I’m sure,” Kotone said, her voice soft but steady. “I have to do this.” The words came out a whisper, but the conviction behind them was solid. She couldn’t retreat now-not when something inside her had demanded this last chance to prove she was more than a shadow of the person she’d been.

Minato remained silent, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the window. He looked calm-calm in that unique, weighty way he always did, carrying storms behind his eyes that he never let slip. But Kotone could see it, the glint of determination that lived in him, a reflection of her own. She knew he believed in her. That knowledge didn’t shock her. It was like a constant warmth at her back, even now. He didn’t need to say anything for her to feel his confidence.

The limousine pulled away from her old apartment, engine humming softly as the city began to blur outside the windows. Kotone watched the familiar streets slip past-rusted signs, vending machines, the stray cat perched on a stoop. Each sight felt like a chapter closing, a silent goodbye. She gripped the handle of her suitcase, the weight of her spear’s case pressing comfortingly against her leg.

The drive was quiet at first, the car’s interior a cocoon of leather and hushed voices. Mitsuru murmured to Asami, rocking her gently, while Minato sat opposite Kotone, occasionally glancing at her with those unreadable eyes. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly-more like the world was holding its breath, waiting for what came next.

When the city finally gave way to the countryside, golden light spilling across the train tracks, the limousine pulled into the modest train station at Inaba’s edge. The platform was empty except for a station attendant and a flock of crows perched along the wires. The train hadn’t arrived yet, only a distant rumble promised its approach. Mitsuru glanced at Minato, her eyes speaking what her lips didn’t-a gentle urging, a silent plea.

Minato inhaled, the sound almost lost beneath the distant clang of train bells. He straightened, stepping out onto the platform, his blue hair catching the morning sun. Kotone followed, dragging her suitcase beside her, the air crisp and faintly scented with autumn.

They stood together, a little apart from Mitsuru and Asami, whose quiet voices drifted behind them. Kotone broke the silence first, a crooked grin on her lips. “You’re not going to try and talk me out of it, are you?” she teased, voice light but edged with something deeper. “Or do you just want me to stay because you’ll miss having someone to scold?”

Minato’s mouth twitched into a smile, a genuine, brief spark of amusement. “I’ll manage,” he replied, the words warm. “But you know I’m confident in you.” He looked at her for a moment, eyes searching, as if memorizing every freckle and scar on her face. The silence lingered, gentle and loaded. Then, softly, he asked, “Are you truly confident in yourself?”

Kotone stared down at the cracked platform beneath her feet, her hands gripping the handle of her suitcase so tightly that her knuckles blanched. The question echoed in her head, loud and bitter as static. She wanted to answer right away-of course she was confident, of course she was ready-but the words snagged in her throat. There was something there, old and restless, stirring just beneath the surface. She could feel Minato’s gaze on her, patient but unyielding, refusing to let her hide behind a quick lie.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the chill autumn air. The wind tugged at the edge of her jacket, and in that moment, she felt terribly small, a shadow among giants. “I… I wish I could say yes, just like that,” Kotone murmured finally, her voice almost lost beneath the shriek of a distant crow. “Ever since we… ever since we went our separate ways, I’ve felt like someone always standing to the side. Like I’m just… extra. Not important enough to be in the center, never the one people think of first.” She forced herself to look up, meeting his eyes, the hurt plain on her face. “It makes me feel weak. Sometimes I wonder if people even remember I exist at all.”

Minato didn’t flinch. He listened, really listened, not interrupting or offering empty reassurances. Kotone went on, her voice steadier, a confession she’d been carrying for years finding its shape at last. “But after I became a Shadow Operative… it’s like, for the first time, I could see that maybe I mattered to someone. Maybe there’s a place for me, somewhere-even if I’m always doubting it. I want to belong. I want to do something that means I won’t be forgotten, or useless.”

For a long moment, Minato said nothing, his expression unreadable but gentle. Kotone could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the careful way he chose every word. She wondered if he saw himself in her doubts, or if his strength had always been effortless. “You’ve always seemed so sure,” she continued, a note of envy in her voice. “Even coming back from… from the Great Seal, you still have everything sorted out. You found your place again. Me… I feel like I have nothing left except this chance. I want to belong with the Shadow Operatives. I want… I just want to feel like I’m part of something real.”

She stopped, chest tight, heart thudding painfully against her ribs. The sound of the approaching train rumbled through the countryside, growing louder, a promise and a threat rolled into one. Minato was silent, but the silence felt full-heavy with everything they’d left unsaid since their lives had splintered apart. She saw it, in the faint lines around his eyes: the memory of their parents, the shared ache of separation, the ways their paths could have stayed together if only the world had been different. But it wasn’t, and now here they were-two siblings on the edge of something vast and uncertain, neither quite knowing how to reach the other.

Minato finally reached out, his touch warm and grounding on Kotone’s arm. His words, when they came, were careful. “If you ever need anything… if it ever feels too much, or you feel alone, you know you can call, right?” There was a note of pleading in his voice, subtle but there-he wanted her to trust him, to let herself be helped, even if they’d both spent so long carrying things alone.

Kotone’s mouth curled in a wry smile, her eyes prickling. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind,” she managed, the old banter rising between them for a moment, a thin shield against the rawness. She looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Mitsuru standing near the limousine, Asami still dozing peacefully against her chest. Mitsuru lifted a hand in a graceful, silent wave, her eyes lingering on Kotone with quiet encouragement.

The train thundered into the station, brakes screeching as it slowed. Its arrival broke the spell of the moment; Kotone inhaled deeply, steeling herself. She bent to grab her suitcase, shifting the spear’s padded case more securely under her arm. She offered Mitsuru a wave-half farewell, half promise-and squared her shoulders.

The platform was flooded with golden morning light as she stepped toward the open train door. She turned, one last time, to look at Minato and Mitsuru-her family, bound together by scars and stubborn hope. Mitsuru moved to stand at Minato’s side, her posture regal as ever, but her hand slipped into her husband’s. For a second, Kotone saw how tightly Mitsuru held on-not just to Minato, but to the hope that Kotone would be safe, that she’d find what she was looking for out there.

As Kotone boarded, Minato’s eyes didn’t leave her. There was no grand speech, no tearful goodbye, just a steady gaze and a nod-his faith in her carried silently between them. She disappeared into the train, the door hissing shut behind her, the world of the station receding as the engine shuddered back to life.

The train lurched forward, bearing Kotone away from the station and into the unknown. She found an empty seat by the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching the countryside unspool in a blur of gold and green. Her mind raced with memories-childhood laughter, rainy nights in the dorm, the feeling of being afraid. All of it was behind her now, all of it fueling her resolve to make something of herself, to become someone she could believe in.

Outside, the last image she caught of the platform was Mitsuru standing next to Minato, her posture as graceful and unyielding as ever, her daughter cradled in her arms. Mitsuru leaned in, her voice soft but edged with the quiet steel that had always marked her, “You know, the two of you are more alike than you think.” Her eyes lingered on the receding train, worry and pride warring in her gaze.

Minato’s answer was simple, spoken in that gentle, deliberate way he had when words mattered. “I know.” He paused, fingers tightening just slightly around Mitsuru’s hand. “I’m confident she can do this, even if I hope she doesn’t have to prove herself the hard way.” His eyes never left the place where Kotone had disappeared, the longing for his sister to find peace hidden beneath a layer of steady calm. Mitsuru squeezed his hand in answer. Then, together, they turned away, the early light painting their silhouettes onto the platform as the train carried Kotone further and further from everything familiar.

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Inside the carriage, Kotone sat quietly, her bags tucked close. She watched as telephone wires, rice fields, and half-remembered shrines flashed by in a hazy mosaic. The world looked so different in motion-she felt untethered, a single point in the current of passing towns and blurring faces. There was a loneliness to travel, but also a strange freedom. For the first time in a long while, her fate was entirely her own.

The minutes dragged and twisted. Kotone’s breath fogged the window, the chill a comfort against her skin. Her thoughts wandered. What would she do once she reached Inaba? The folder hadn’t given her much: addresses, vague instructions, warnings to stay hidden and report anything odd. There was no mention of a safehouse, no guarantee of shelter. Would she be left to drift, as she had so many times before, finding her way in back alleys and train stations, trusting instinct and stubbornness to see her through? Unless Yuuto had something planned?

To distract herself, Kotone pulled out her phone, turning it over in her palm. The familiar weight of the device was oddly soothing-so many connections, memories, and lifelines tucked into a few inches of plastic and glass. She flicked through her gallery, searching for comfort in the images she’d saved. The first picture was blurry and bright: her shaking hands clasped in Yuuto, both of them laughing in awkward relief on her first day with the Shadow Operatives. Yuuto looked strong and self-possessed, his eyes kind even behind his careful composure. He had been a steadying force, an anchor in stormy seas.

The next photo made her smile-a group shot with Aigis and Labrys, both androids in civilian clothes, Aigis posture immaculate, Labrys expression proud but gentle. There was Ken, too, standing slightly apart but smiling with genuine warmth, and Sae, whose focus and authority radiated even in the candid moment. A few new recruits stood at the back, shy and nervous, but eager.

She scrolled further, her thumb trembling just a little, and found a short video file. Kotone’s heart squeezed. She remembered this, Sae had insisted on recording something for her, just before she’d left for this mission.

Kotone tapped play. The screen flickered, and Sae’s face appeared, slightly awkward as she adjusted the camera. “Is this on?” Sae asked, glancing off to the side with a wry smile.

Then Sae looked straight at the lens, her dark eyes earnest. “Kotone, I know you’re worried. I know this new life-the Operatives, the missions, the shadows-it’ll change you. There’s no doubt about that.” Her tone softened, the strength beneath her words palpable. “But don’t let fear decide what you’re capable of. You’re not alone in this, no matter how it feels. We all see your worth, even if you struggle to see it yourself. Keep your head up. Even in the hardest moments, remember why you’re here-and don’t let go of yourself in the process.”

Sae paused, glancing at someone off camera-likely Yuuto, whose voice chimed in with a lighthearted, “Give it hell, Kotone!”

That made Sae laugh-a rare, genuine sound that broke through her usual sternness. “He means that in the best way,” Sae said, smiling softly. “We’re all rooting for you.”

The video ended. Kotone blinked rapidly, emotion prickling at her eyes. She set the phone in her lap, letting the words wash over her, strengthening the fragile hope inside her chest. Maybe she could do this. Maybe, even in the uncertainty, there was space for courage and change.

She closed her eyes, letting the train’s rhythmic motion lull her. The rocking of the carriage, the faint echo of Sae’s encouragement, the distant thunder of wheels on tracks-it was all a cocoon, wrapping her in a rare, quiet moment of safety. The exhaustion she’d fought for weeks crept in, her body finally giving in. She folded her arms on her bag, tilted her head against the seat, and surrendered to sleep.

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Hours slipped by, uncounted. Shadows played across Kotone’s face as the train carried her through the countryside, her breath fogging the cold glass, the world outside reduced to color and blur. Dreams tugged at the edge of her consciousness-half-memories, voices echoing in places she couldn’t quite reach. She drifted between past and present, the hush of Iwatodai dorms in the rain, the taste of instant ramen with Yuuto and Sae under a flickering streetlight, Asami’s tiny hand curling around her finger. Comfort and ache braided together, soft and sharp as longing.

When she finally stirred, the carriage was washed by the light. Her neck ached, the seat pressed uncomfortably against her back. For a moment, Kotone didn’t move, letting the unfamiliar silence root her in place. Then the brakes screeched, jolting her awake. The train shuddered, slowing until it came to a halt. Kotone blinked away the remnants of sleep, rubbing her eyes. Her head felt heavy and raw, as if she’d cried in her dreams.

A calm, almost bored voice crackled over the speakers, announcing, "Welcome to Yasoinaba Station. Welcome to Yasoinaba Station.”

Kotone’s heart jumped. This was it. She grabbed her things-her suitcase, the padded spear case, the folder-and forced herself to her feet, joints stiff with tension. As she stepped onto the platform, the world felt too quiet, the station almost deserted. A few vending machines blinked in the corner, dispensing cans to no one. One rusty bicycle leaned against the fence. The air was crisp, laced with the faintest promise of rain.

She took a shaky breath and looked around. No sign of a taxi, no welcoming committee, just a handful of strangers walking with the slow, unhurried rhythm of rural towns. For a wild second, she wondered if she’d been sent here to disappear, to fade into the landscape and be forgotten after all.

But then, just beyond the ticket gate, something caught her eye-a man easily over six feet tall, black hair, holding up a sign in thick black marker. Except it was upside down. Kotone squinted, then realized the name written there-her name, or something close to it, scrawled in bold strokes, Kotone. Next to him stood a woman, sharp and composed, short blue hair tucked behind one ear, trench coat pristine despite the rural dust.

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, then looked up. “Kanji, you’re holding it upside down.”

Kanji blinked, frowning down at the sign, the thick black letters unmistakably reversed. “Wait, really? Aw, come on, I thought I had it right this time…” He flipped the sign, glancing over at the woman. “Sorry, Naoto.”

Naoto shook her head with a patient sigh, her lips quirking upward in a way that softened the edge of her otherwise precise demeanor. “Thank you, Kanji.”

Kotone approached, nerves fluttering in her chest, suitcase wheels bumping softly behind her. She stopped just short of them, clutching the padded spear case like a lifeline. “Um… hello.”

Naoto’s gaze swept to her with the cool clarity of someone used to reading people in a single heartbeat. “Are you Kotone?” she asked, tone brisk but not unkind.

Kotone nodded, her throat tight. “Yes, I’m… that’s me.”

Naoto extended a gloved hand, blue hair catching the morning light. “Hello, I'm Naoto Shirogane. Welcome to Inaba. This is Kanji Tatsumi,” she added, gesturing at the tall, slightly rumpled man who still clung awkwardly to the sign.

Kanji grinned, shoving the sign under one arm and reaching out his hand. “How was the train ride?” His voice was warm and a little rough around the edges, familiar in a way that eased the tension in Kotone’s shoulders.

Kotone managed a small, grateful smile. “It was nice, actually. Peaceful.” She glanced between the two, uncertainty flickering across her face. “You’re… part of the Investigation Team, right?”

Naoto inclined her head, her expression softening further. “Yes. Yuuto contacted me about your arrival. We’re glad to have your support. I’ve prepared a spare room at my house for you, if that’s acceptable?”

“Oh-yes, that’s… thank you,” Kotone breathed, relief flooding through her. The constant edge of fear-of being alone, of being forgotten-eased a fraction.

Naoto’s eyes softened at Kotone’s gratitude, then she turned to Kanji with a small nod. “Kanji, would you mind taking Kotone’s bags? I’ll drive.”

Kanji sized up the luggage-one battered suitcase and a long, padded case. He’d carried heavier loads for Nanako’s shopping runs or the time Yosuke insisted on buying an entire sound system online. Still, Kotone’s bags looked almost suspiciously light. He grinned, rolling his shoulders as he lifted both bags in a single, easy motion.

“Not bad!” he said, flashing Kotone a reassuring smile. “Guess you travel light for a big hero, huh?” The little attempt at a joke came out gentle, easygoing. He was glad; after all, carrying her bags felt like the smallest thing he could do for someone who’d come all this way alone.

Naoto led the way, her steps brisk but measured. “This way, please. The car’s not far.” She glanced back, waiting until Kotone fell into step beside her, and Kanji trailed behind with the bags balanced easily over his broad shoulders.

The parking lot was quiet-only a handful of cars, and Naoto’s stood out, neat, understated, reliable, the sort you’d expect from someone whose whole life was careful observation. The drive through Inaba was brief but revealing. Kotone’s face pressed to the window, taking in the patchwork of old homes, narrow streets, and humble shops-the gentle, timeless sprawl of a town that felt more memory than present. The central shopping district, sleepy but inviting, passed in a blur of hand-painted signs and shuttered stores.

Even in the silence, there was comfort. Kanji hummed along to an old song playing on the radio, Naoto kept her eyes on the road, but glanced over now and then to make sure Kotone was all right. The weight in Kotone’s chest had lessened, just a little.

At last, they reached Naoto’s house-a crisp, clean place on a quiet street, surrounded by potted flowers and the scent of rain lingering from the morning. Kanji carried the bags to the door, setting them down with a dramatic little flourish. “There you go! Safe and sound. I promised the guys I’d meet up later, so I’m gonna head out.” He grinned again, giving a little wave as he turned. “See you around!”

Kotone managed a real smile as he left, and for a moment, it felt like something had shifted-a little lighter, a little less lonely.

Naoto’s house was tidy but lived-in, the kind of place where everything had a purpose. She gave Kotone a brief but thorough tour, the spare room with its neatly-made bed and shelves lined with books, the small, sunlit kitchen; a cozy living room with old detective novels stacked beside a battered armchair.

Kotone found herself drawn to the books, running her fingers over the spines. She hesitated, then looked up. “Naoto… is it really true? That you’re the Detective Prince?”

Naoto’s lips curved in a subtle, knowing smile. “I’ve been called that, yes. Sometimes I think the title clings to me more than I cling to it. But it’s true-I still help investigate what’s been happening, both in the real world and… elsewhere.” Her gaze sharpened, as if weighing Kotone’s response. “Yuuto mentioned you’d be helping us with the TV world. I’m grateful for the backup. Things have changed here.”

Kotone tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the next question almost shy. “Is it true, then? That there’s another person in your group who can change personas? Like me?”

Naoto’s eyes flickered with something like nostalgia, her voice gentling. “Yes. His name is Yu Narukami. He’s… very special, in that way. You’ll meet everyone tomorrow-I think you’ll find we’re a rather unusual group.” She smiled, earnest and a little mischievous. “But for now, you should get some rest. You’ve come a long way.”

Kotone nodded, exhaustion and gratitude warring inside her. She watched Naoto disappear down the hall, her footsteps fading into the hush of the house. Left alone, Kotone moved quietly into the spare room. She set her bags on the bed, unzipped the suitcase, and carefully removed the padded case containing her spear, tucking it into the closet as if it were something sacred. The folder from Yuuto she laid on the desk, the words “Trust yourself” catching the afternoon light.

She sat on the edge of the bed, letting the stillness settle around her. The unfamiliar room felt safe, if not quite her own. For the first time since she’d boarded the train, she let herself exhale.

Chapter Text

9/29/2027

Kotone was sleeping in the spare room Naoto gave her, curled up under a crisp blanket, face half-buried in a too-firm pillow. Dreams faded as sunlight bled quietly through the thin curtains. Somewhere on the nightstand, the alarm clock began to wail-sharp, insistent, merciless. Kotone groaned, dragging the pillow over her head, muffling the sound, wishing desperately for five more minutes. Her hand flailed blindly over the table, knocking aside a pen, a folded train ticket, finally connecting with the alarm’s smooth plastic. It took three tries to silence it, when she finally did, the hush felt almost triumphant.

She lay there a moment longer, heart pounding, hair sticking up wildly. The unfamiliar ceiling above her reminded her, with a cold and clear certainty, that she wasn’t home. Not in her tiny apartment, not anywhere safe or known. But she’d chosen this.

With a sigh, Kotone sat up, rubbing her eyes until the world came into focus. She got dressed in something comfortable-simple jeans, a soft sweater, nothing that would mark her as anything but a tired traveler. Her hair was a mess, she ran her fingers through it, grimacing, then gave up.

Leaving the small bedroom, she stepped out into the heart of Naoto’s house. The space was suffused with gentle morning light and the faint, grounding scent of coffee. Naoto sat at the small kitchen table, a mug cradled between her hands, posture straight but somehow relaxed. She looked up as Kotone entered, one eyebrow arching, eyes flickering with the smallest hint of humor.

“Good morning,” Naoto said quietly. “Did you sleep well?”

Kotone blinked at the gentle light, rubbing her eyes as she slipped into the kitchen. She tried to smooth her tangled hair with one hand, offering Naoto a sheepish but genuine smile. “Yeah,” Kotone replied, voice a little scratchy with sleep. “Better than I thought I would, honestly. Your guest bed is way more comfortable than anything at my apartment.” It was only half a joke and half truth, she’d woken a dozen times in the night, heart pounding, nerves humming, but here, the morning felt softer.

Naoto’s lips twitched with a ghost of a smile. “I’m glad,” she said. She set her mug down, the faint clink filling the hush between them. “I made coffee, if you’d like some. There’s cream and sugar as well."

That sounded like heaven. Kotone moved to the counter, fixing herself a cup-black, then just enough cream and sugar to soften the bitterness. She took a sip and felt warmth unfurl through her, chasing off the lingering chill of anxiety. She carried the mug to the small table, sitting across from Naoto. For a moment, neither spoke. There was something peaceful about the quiet-a kind of acceptance that neither needed to fill it just yet.

Kotone broke the silence first, still cupping her mug like a lifeline. “When will I get to meet the others?” she asked, her voice cautious, but with a touch of anticipation. “The rest of the Investigation Team, I mean.”

Naoto set her mug down, folding her hands. “We’ll meet them later this morning, at Junes,” she said. “Around eleven. I thought it best to let you settle in first before introducing everyone at once. They’re a… spirited group.”

Kotone let out a small, grateful laugh. “I appreciate it.” She took another sip of coffee, letting the warmth seep into her chest, then looked up, curiosity shining in her eyes. “Can I ask something? What’s the TV World actually like now? Has it really changed since… Sho's death?” Her voice trailed off, uncertain how to phrase it.

Naoto was quiet for a moment, tracing a finger along the rim of her mug. Shadows played across her face-memories, perhaps, of battles fought and losses carried. The kitchen seemed to grow quieter, the weight of Kotone’s question hanging in the light.

“It’s… different,” Naoto said finally, voice softer than before. “There are still Shadows. Even after Sho’s defeat, they never truly vanished. For a while, it was quiet-like the TV World was holding its breath. But in the past few months…” She paused, searching for words. “Something’s changed. The Shadows feel more restless. Angrier, somehow. They’ve started to take new forms, shapes we haven’t seen before. It’s as if the place itself is uneasy, waiting for something.”

Kotone shivered. “What do you think it means?” Her hands tightened around the mug, knuckles pale.

Naoto shook her head, a shadow flickering in her eyes. Before she could answer, her phone buzzed sharply against the wooden table, a jarring sound that sliced through the stillness. She glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing, then answered with her usual composure. “Hello?”

A voice burst through the receiver, bright and unmistakably energetic. “Yo!”

Kotone blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden volume. Naoto exhaled, the hint of a sigh escaping her lips. “Hello, Chie.”

There was a flustered shuffling on the other end, followed by a muffled yell. “Where are you guys? I thought we were meeting already!”

Naoto’s fingers tightened minutely around her phone. “We’re not meeting until eleven. I said I would bring Kotone then, to introduce her to everyone.”

A beat of silence. Then, very clearly, Chie shouted away from the phone, “Yosuke! You jackass, you got the timing wrong! I woke up early for nothing-and it’s freezing out here!” In the background, Kotone could hear the babble of early morning shoppers and the unmistakable clatter of someone pacing on linoleum.

Suddenly there was a faint but distinct thud, followed by a yelp of pain. “Ow! Chie!”

Naoto’s lips twitched, her voice dry as she replied, “We’ll be there soon. Try not to traumatize Yosuke too much.” She hung up and set the phone aside, looking at Kotone with an expression halfway between apology and amusement. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, voice light but affectionate.

Kotone offered a weak, uncertain smile, her thoughts spinning. Was this what she was stepping into? A group that yelled, joked, kicked each other awake and argued over breakfast? She tried to picture herself among them and found the image strangely comforting, even if she was still anxious.
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At Junes, every day is great at your Junes. So many people bustling through the sliding glass doors-some searching for deals on groceries, others drifting between racks of shiny electronics or flat-packed furniture. The food court buzzes with the hum of fryers and cheerful chatter. But right now, what stood out above everything was a very loud, very exasperated voice.

“Chie, it wasn’t necessary to punch me in the gut! I told you the wrong time, that’s all!” Yosuke yell echoed over the clamor, hands flailing as he doubled over, groaning dramatically.

Chie stood in the center of the food court, looking more annoyed than guilty. “You woke me up from the best dream, Yosuke! I was kung fu fighting the Yakuza on the rooftops, and just as the perfect boy was about to propose then bam! Reality!” She shot Yosuke a glare, arms folded across her chest.

Yosuke gave a long-suffering sigh. “Chie, you still live in a fantasy world. Seriously, a rooftop proposal-”

He didn’t get to finish. Chie’s fist jabbed into his stomach, making him gasp for breath. “Okay! Sorry! I’m sorry, alright?” Yosuke wheezed, clutching his side, a sheepish grin creeping through the pain.

Teddie, in his human form today-hair tousled and blue eyes bright with mischief-waddled over, wagging a finger at Yosuke. “I guess I’m lucky not to be you, Yosuke! Chie’s fists are truly un-bear-able this morning!”

Yukiko stifled a yawn behind her hand, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, eyes still heavy-lidded. “I wish I could have slept a little longer. And no tea… this is... terrible.”

Rise, slumped over her tray, rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Tell me about it. I barely slept,” she grumbled, her voice still soft with sleep. “Remember when we were teenagers and could do all-nighters, save the world, and still make it to class?” She gave a weak, lopsided grin, then let her head fall against the table. “I miss that energy. Now I need three cups of coffee just to open my eyes.”

At the next table, Ryuji let out a groan, raking a hand through his unruly blond hair. “Hey, don’t remind me we’re adults now, Rise. I was hoping to forget for one morning... especially taxes...” He then glanced around, frowning. “Hey, where’s Yu, anyway? He’s not usually late.”

Yukiko straightened up a little, smoothing her skirt. “He’s inside with Nanako. Something about helping her with the Junes commercial.” Her voice softened, and there was a touch of affection in her gaze.

Rise perked up, curious. “A new commercial? What for?”

Still nursing his bruised ego-and a likely sore stomach-Yosuke offered a sheepish smile. “Junes wanted a new promo, that’s all. Nanako had to be the face. Nothing big, just the usual, come shop at Junes stuff." He rubbed at his side, eyeing Chie warily as if afraid she’d lunge again.

Teddie, who had been quiet for a rare, fleeting moment, suddenly whimpered, “It's hard to believe that Nanako-chan was just a little cub! Now she’s twenty-three… Time really is beary cruel. Even Chie’s got a bit of gray in her hair now…” His voice trailed off, half-joking, half-nostalgic, eyes big and wet like a kid on the verge of tears.

Chie’s face turned scarlet, half from embarrassment, half from outrage. “Hey! I’m not that old! It’s just stress, okay?” She glared at Teddie, jaw clenched, and for a moment nobody was sure if she’d laugh or lunge. She let her arms drop to her sides and, after a long, tight sigh, said in a low voice, “God, I hate being in my thirties.” She tried to brush her hair over her ear, almost hiding the single silver strand Teddie had pointed out.

A silence washed over them, softer than before, laced with the bittersweet ache of time passing and friendships deepening. Rise let out a slow breath, glancing at Chie with sympathy and a crooked smile. “Well... at least you still kick like a high schooler, Chie.” She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

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Inside Junes, the world bustled-a whirl of bright sale banners, jingling registers, and footsteps echoing on tile. Sunlight flooded through the automatic doors, catching on plastic baskets and the glint of a thousand store lights. At the heart of the commotion, a young woman’s voice rang out above the hum, practiced and clear, cutting through the noise with just enough charm to turn heads.

“Welcome to Junes! When everyday is customer appreciation day-don’t miss our discounts on fresh fruit and housewares, and don’t forget, every day’s great at your Junes!” She beamed for the camera crew, her hand making the familiar sweep she’d practiced as a girl, palm up, just so. For a moment, her eyes sparkled with the unfiltered joy of memory, the kind that made people in line smile back at her out of pure instinct.

From behind the makeshift barrier of display shelves, the camera crew exchanged a glance, then the sound engineer, a woman with a steady hand and an easy grin, gave the all-clear. “We got it, Nanako-chan! That was perfect,” she said, a little breathless from laughing at the cheery delivery, despite having filmed it twice already. “You're still the brightest smile in Inaba.”

Nanako brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, cheeks faintly pink. “Thank you,” she replied, voice softer but no less sincere. She glanced up, almost unconsciously searching the crowd until her gaze found Yu-her cousin-watching quietly from across the checkout lanes. Just beside him, Ryotaro Dojima leaned against a pillar, his expression proud, softened by years that had finally allowed him to relax around his daughter.

For a heartbeat, the busy store seemed to fade away, leaving only the three of them tethered together by years of memories-so many of them painful, some full of laughter, but all leading here. To Nanako, radiant and grown, her voice ringing out through the Junes that had once been both a haven and a battleground.

Yu smiled, subtle but unmistakable. He watched as Nanako thanked the crew, her eyes bright and posture straight, her confidence quietly unshakable. She was twenty-three now, and it was sometimes hard to believe-this same girl he’d play games at night, who’d sung commercials around the living room, still winning over the whole town, one smile at a time. He was proud, but there was something more-a kind of grateful awe. It was impossible to resent the passing of time when it gave him these moments, seeing someone he loved become their truest self.

Dojima, too, stood a little taller, arms crossed, lips pressed together-not to hide a frown, but to hold back the emotion that caught him off-guard sometimes. He’d done his best, he thought. Not perfect—no one is—but enough that Nanako could stand here, happy, loved, choosing her own life. Soon she’d be moving out, starting something new, but right now, she was still his little girl, and he was proud. So damn proud.

Nanako walked over, her smile sheepish as the cameras powered down. “So… how’d I do?” she asked, glancing between her father and cousin, eyes wide with the unspoken hope for their approval.

Dojima let out a low whistle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You did great, Nanako. Still hard to believe so many years have gone by.” He smiled-genuine, warm, just a little bit wistful.

Nanako grinned, teasing. “Does that mean you'll be okay that I finally get a boyfriend, Dad?” She nudged him gently, her laughter as light as spring rain.

Dojima sputtered, caught off-guard. “Nonsense,” he managed, but the old bluster wasn’t there-just a soft exasperation, almost playful

“Eh…” Nanako rolled her eyes, then looked at Yu, grinning mischievously. “Yu, back me up here. Tell him I have the right!”

Yu glanced at Dojima, the smallest smirk tugging at his mouth, even as he feigned a serious consideration. He knew better than to pick a real fight with the man-Commissioner Dojima, with gray at his temples and a heart that was still sometimes too big for his own good. But Nanako was looking at him with that trust that never really changed.

“Honestly, Nanako,” Yu said, voice gentle but teasing, “if I ever had a daughter, I’d probably be just as bad as your dad. Maybe worse.” He glanced sideways at Dojima, sharing a look that held years of mutual respect, loss, and something unspoken-a gratitude for the family they’d built in the ashes of what they’d lost.

Nanako laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’s what Yukiko says about you too! Overprotective.”

At the mention of his wife, Yu’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the familiar vibration cutting through the warmth of the moment. He slid it out and read the message, Yukiko’s name lighting up his screen, “We showed up early! Let’s do something in a bit.”

He smiled-a private, easy kind of smile he only ever really gave to family. Even if the meeting with Kotone was later, he didn’t mind. Seeing Nanako shine in her element was more than enough to make the morning worth it.

Dojima nudged Nanako, half embarrassed, half amused. “Ignore him. If he ever has a kid, I’ll show up every day just to give him a hard time.”

Nanako giggled, cheeks dimpled with affection. She squeezed her father’s hand, then released it, standing taller. The air between the three of them hummed with that complicated, joyful ache only families know-the sense that time had carried them all here, battered but intact.

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The sun was higher now, the chill of early morning fading as Naoto and Kotone made their way down the main street, shoes crunching on sun-warmed pavement. Kotone took in everything-the narrow alleyways, the sleepy, familiar charm of Inaba waking up. A flock of sparrows scattered from a rooftop. Somewhere, a dog barked, unseen. Kotone found herself breathing deeper, the air here somehow different, cleaner.

Naoto walked beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of a navy jacket, gaze as keen as ever, but softer now, without the armor she wore around strangers. It was just the two of them, and for a while neither spoke, content to listen to the world settle around them.

Eventually, Kotone broke the silence. “Naoto… are we really going into the TV World today?” Her voice was steady, but there was something urgent beneath it-a need, edged with hope and frustration.

Naoto stopped, considering Kotone’s face in the sunlight. “Are you in a hurry?” she asked gently, as if turning over each word. “I understand wanting to prove yourself. But Yu will lead the pace, as always.” She gave a half-smile, acknowledging the question, but not promising more than she could give. “Two days. That’s when we’ll go. Today’s about introductions and trust.”

Kotone sighed, the sound small but full of longing. She pressed her lips together, staring at the uneven side walk, her hands tightening around the strap of her bag. She remained silent, fighting the urge to argue. She wanted-no, needed-to prove herself faster, to belong here, to be counted among those who actually did things instead of waiting and wondering. The shadow operatives, the ones she’d always admired from afar, had earned their place by stepping into danger over and over. What had she done but wait and hope?

Still, Kotone understood that the slow way might be the best way. She was the outsider here, and if Naoto said she needed time, then maybe she did. She swallowed the frustration and nodded, if only to herself.

After a moment, she looked over at Naoto, the question escaping before she could second-guess herself. “What was the fight between Yu and Yuuto like?” Her voice trembled with curiosity and something deeper-a desperate hope that these stories might have answers for her own doubts. “I mean… you’ve seen them both. What was it really like, back then?”

Naoto’s gaze went distant, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she recalled years old and battles half-remembered, half-myth. “I never actually saw their fight firsthand,” she admitted, her voice tinged with a regret that she couldn’t offer more. “But I heard plenty from Yu. Yuuto… he gave Yu a good fight, back when they were teenagers. We were all drawn into saving Labrys, thanks to that arena tournament in the TV World. They fought-really fought-and Yu won. But Yuuto was no pushover, even then. It wasn’t easy for either of them.”

Kotone’s eyes widened. She tried to imagine Yu, steady and sure, facing someone who could actually match him-someone who might even surpass him. “And later?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “They fought again, right?”

Naoto nodded. “Years later, yes. As adults. They’d both grown stronger-different. That second time, Yuuto won.” Her lips quirked into a thoughtful line, a rare vulnerability shining through. “But there was never any bad blood. Yu respected him all the more. They’re… rivals, but also friends and in the ways that forge both of them sharper. Maybe, someday, they’ll fight again. I think both of them would want that.”

Kotone turned that over in her mind, her steps slowing, heart stirring with equal parts admiration and anxiety. Yu-he was someone she’d only heard about in stories from Yuuto or mission reports, to her Yu's name is legendary, he kind whispered among those who still remembered what it meant to risk everything for a world only a handful ever truly saw.

She wondered if meeting Yu could be the thing that helped her finally shed the last pieces of doubt clinging to her ribs, the cold ache of not quite belonging that woke her at night. Or maybe it would just be another reminder of how far she still had to go.

The thought made her clutch her bag tighter, eyes burning with unshed hopes. She wanted to become someone worthy of trust. Someone whose presence mattered, not because of the world she’d left behind, but because of what she could do here, with them.

Naoto walked in silence beside her, gaze occasionally flickering over Kotone’s tense posture, the way her shoulders squared themselves against invisible burdens. She could sense the familiar weight of self-doubt, that insistent gnawing in someone desperate to prove themselves but afraid they never quite would. It was a pain Naoto recognized-one she’d worn for years before finally learning, piece by painful piece, how to let others in.

She wanted to reassure Kotone, to promise that the path ahead wasn’t as lonely as it felt. But she’d learned, too, that comfort was something earned, not simply given. Trust had to be built slowly, as sure as sunrise.

After a while, Kotone cleared her throat, glancing sideways. “Naoto… Is there anything I should be careful about? With the team, I mean. Anyone I should, um, not annoy right away?” Her attempt at a joke was thin, barely disguising her nerves.

Naoto’s mouth twitched in amusement. “You’ll be fine. If you can survive Chie’s enthusiasm and Teddie’s… everything, you’ll do well.” Her expression grew more contemplative, her voice dropping. “Though-if Chie’s ideal happens to show up, just… ignore it. It isn’t his fault, just something Chie likes to say. She calls him ‘Master’ sometimes, though he never encourages it.”

Kotone blinked, her curiosity snagged by the strange warning, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she walked in silence, rolling the odd words over in her mind. Who could this “ideal” be? Why did he matter enough for Naoto to warn her? The morning had lost its gentle hush-every step closer to Junes made her heart pound louder. She pressed her hand to her chest, grounding herself as the glass doors to Junes slid open and a rush of cool, processed air washed over her. This was it. The moment her story would really begin.

Chapter Text

Junes was like nothing Kotone had ever seen-a strange, sparkling labyrinth of consumer delights that seemed both impossibly vast and oddly homey, humming with a constant undercurrent of cheerful announcements and chattering shoppers. She barely took five steps through the automatic doors before the place started to swallow her whole: rows of neatly folded shirts in colors she’d only ever seen on store displays, the glint of electronics stacked beside discount baskets, the distant scent of curry and frying oil drifting from the food court.

For one impossible, reckless second, she was a kid again-her whole body lit up with a pulse of pure, delighted longing. There, right by the endcap, hung the shirt. Not just any shirt-the one she’d been quietly obsessing over since she’d spotted it online weeks ago. The pale blue one with the small embroidered flower at the collar, just subtle enough to be sweet, just bold enough that she knew she’d feel like a different person wearing it. The price tag was even reasonable. In another life, maybe, she would have just bought it and never thought twice.

She bounced on her toes, barely catching herself, clutching the hanger as if she could will the shirt into her own wardrobe. For a fleeting instant, the burden of nerves melted away-she forgot she was supposed to be composed, mature, ready to meet legends and future friends. She was just happy. In the middle of that flood of relief, Naoto’s voice, as precise and calm as always, sliced through her daze. “Kotone, what are you doing?”

Kotone startled so hard she nearly dropped the shirt. Her cheeks blazed. She fumbled the hanger back onto the rack and straightened, trying to smooth her hair, her voice a little too high and a little too quick. “Ah, it’s nothing! I just-um, thought I recognized something, that’s all.” She managed what she hoped was a casual, breezy smile but felt instead like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Naoto blinked a few times, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then, in that calm, even way of hers, she tilted her head, studying Kotone for a moment longer. “Did you want that shirt?” she asked, quietly. “We can wait, if you’d like to buy it. I don’t mind.”

Kotone hesitated, clutching her bag tighter, the want fluttering inside her chest at war with the need to not stand out any more than she already did. “It’s okay. I’ll… get it later, maybe. I should probably focus on not getting lost first,” she managed, half-joking.

Naoto gave her a knowing look, the faintest curve at the corner of her lips. She didn’t push. “Alright. This way, then,” she said, stepping forward into the current of the store, leaving Kotone to scurry a few steps behind.

Kotone forced herself to keep her breathing steady, tucking the memory of the shirt away for another time. Her mind churned, trying to rehearse what she’d say to everyone when she met them-should she go for formal? Polite? Was humor even possible right now? Her thoughts spun, all her practiced lines vanishing like dust.

As she hurried after Naoto, not watching where she was going, she collided-hard-into someone stepping out from behind a towering display of discounted rice cookers. The impact sent a jolt through her, and she stumbled, catching herself awkwardly. “I’m so sorry!” she blurted, bowing instinctively.

The man she’d crashed into was tall, maybe a few years older than her, with glasses that perched lopsidedly on his nose and hair dyed a startling shade of crimson. He steadied himself with an easy grace, eyes glinting with mischief and warmth all at once. He didn’t look angry-just a little surprised, and maybe amused.

He offered a lopsided smile. “Are you alright? Need any help?” His voice was gentle, almost disarming in its kindness.

Kotone shook her head, cheeks flaming as she ducked into another bow. “No-I mean, thank you, but I’m fine. Really.” She risked a glance up at him, searching for a name tag, anything to ground her in this moment of embarrassment. There was nothing on his shirt but a faded design, the logo half-worn from too many washes. Something about him felt familiar and out-of-place all at once, like running into an actor at the grocery store.

A silence settled-a beat too long to be comfortable. The man glanced away, his gaze flickering toward the bustling crowd, as if already searching for an escape. He rocked back on his heels. “Well, I should get back to it,” he said, voice bright but rushed. “There’s always something around here that needs fixing, or moving, or at least pretending to help with. Even if it’s just restacking rice cookers, you know?” He shrugged, then grinned sheepishly. “Not that I actually work here or anything. They kick me out sometimes, but I like to help. Feels good to do something-even the little things.”

Kotone blinked, absorbing that. “Wait, you… you don’t work here?” she asked, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

He shook his head, running a hand through his red hair, almost embarrassed. “Nope. Just a habit, I guess. Keeps me busy.” He paused, then flashed her a crooked smile. “Sorry about running into you. Take care, alright?” And with that, he ducked past her, melting into the current of shoppers, leaving Kotone more bewildered than before.

She lingered there for a breathless moment, her mind whirring, replaying the accidental collision and the stranger’s gentle, almost haunted smile. There was something in the way he carried himself-a subtle resilience, a warmth that lingered in the space he’d just left. But she barely had time to process the encounter before the tide of Junes swept her along again, shoulders brushing hers, the distant smell of fried food mingling with the cold bite of air-conditioning.

Kotone took a shaky breath, squared her shoulders, and hurried toward the appointed meeting spot. She clung to Naoto’s directions in her mind, straight past the electronics, left at the housewares, and into the sunlight-drenched atrium near the food court. Each step seemed impossibly loud, her heart hammering with a cocktail of nerves and hope, the memory of the stranger with red hair lingering at the edges of her mind.

When she spotted Naoto ahead, Kotone nearly called out, but the words died in her throat. Naoto wasn’t alone. She stood, posture composed but visibly at ease, speaking quietly with a man who looked both startlingly young and yet impossibly steady-a shock of gray hair falling artfully over his brow, eyes gentle but impossibly clear. He radiated a quiet, magnetic confidence that made him seem both present and far away, as if he belonged to another world entirely.

Kotone froze, a jolt of recognition pinning her in place. Yu Narukami, the other wild card user. Her feet wouldn’t move. For a moment, all she could do was stare as Naoto glanced over, her expression softening just a bit when she saw Kotone. She beckoned her forward with a small gesture. Yu’s eyes followed, calm and welcoming, a gentle invitation in his gaze.

Kotone willed herself forward, trying not to stumble. She reached them and for a heartbeat no one spoke, the world spinning in slow motion around her.

Yu was the first to break the quiet. He stepped forward, extending his hand-not with the practiced politeness of someone used to being admired, but with the easy openness of someone who had learned how to put others at ease. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Kotone,” he said, voice warm but measured. “Yuuto told us a little about you, but I’m glad you could make it here in person.”

Kotone froze. For the smallest, sharpest second, her heart stalled, but she swallowed, her palm clammy with nerves, and reached out. Their hands met-hers too warm, the sweat at her wrist betraying every anxious thought she’d tried to bury since sunrise.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kotone stammered, ducking her head a little, mortified at the dampness of her grip. “My hands, I-”

Yu’s eyes creased with gentle amusement, not even a flicker of judgement in his gaze. He shook her hand without hesitation, as if he truly hadn’t noticed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, the kindness in his tone cutting through the tension she carried. “It’s a big morning. You can relax, besides, everyone gets a little nervous the first time.”

Kotone tried to breathe. She forced her shoulders down, steadied her trembling fingers on the strap of her bag, and managed a smile that was real, if still a little fragile. “Thank you. It’s… nice to meet you, Yu. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s a little overwhelming.” Her voice steadied, inch by inch, bolstered by the easy calm in Yu’s eyes. “I hope I’m not too much of a disappointment.”

“Not a chance,” Yu said, and there was a glimmer of something unspoken in his expression-reassurance from someone who’d seen more new beginnings than most. The light in his eyes was gentle, warm, carrying all the patience of someone who knew how much courage it took just to show up.

It steadied Kotone’s nerves, let her exhale some of the tension that had been building in her chest since sunrise. She smiled, fragile but real, then braced herself and asked, “So… where is everyone else?”

Yu’s mouth tugged upward, sheepish. “They’re still outside. I think Yosuke still recovering from Chie’s… morning.” He winked, as if sharing an inside joke with Naoto, who just nodded with the faintest trace of amusement. The tension broke, and Yu’s gaze softened as he regarded Kotone. “Are you hungry? The Junes food court has everything from udon to takoyaki."

Kotone hesitated, suddenly very aware of her own nerves and the hollow ache in her belly. “I, um… what do they even have here?” She tried to sound casual, peering around with the curiosity of someone new to both town and tradition.

Naoto stepped forward, voice gentle. “You’ll see. It’s best to experience it yourself.” She started walking, Yu falling in beside her, their paces easy and familiar. Kotone gathered her courage and followed, her sneakers squeaking softly on the polished tile as they wound their way past shelves of summer merchandise and cheerful sales displays.

And then-there it was. The food court. Brightly lit, redolent with the smell of frying oil, warm curry, and something sweet she couldn’t quite place. Kotone blinked as the sunlight slanted through the wide windows, illuminating a mess of tables half-filled with shoppers and, at the center, the small crowd that could only be the Investigation Team.

Yosuke was halfway through a dramatic retelling of his misfortune, rubbing his ribs and shooting Chie the occasional wounded look, though the smile on his face gave away the lack of any real anger. “-and I mean, sure, maybe I woke her up early, but it’s not like I meant to-” he protested, only to be met with a groan from Ryuji, who was more interested in his curry than the story.

Teddie-vivid, unmistakable in his human form-perked up the instant he saw Yu, Naoto, and the unfamiliar face at their side. His blue eyes went wide and, if possible, even brighter. “Sensei! Naoto! And-” He spun toward Kotone, and in the time it took for her to blink, his whole demeanor seemed to melt into pure, starry-eyed adoration. “A new lovely lady?! My heart can bear-ly stand it!” he exclaimed, palms pressed together, cheeks flushed with over-the-top glee. “Welcome to the Junes Investigation Team, beautiful!”

Before Kotone could react, Yosuke groaned, waving a hand. “Teddie, knock it off, will you? We’re trying not to scare our guest on her second day!”

Teddie’s face crumpled into exaggerated heartbreak. “But Yosuke! I am simply making a beary good impression on our beautiful new friend!” His lower lip trembled, wide blue eyes shimmering with comic distress.

Kanji, who’d been lurking nearby with arms crossed, rolled his eyes, but with unmistakable fondness. He dug into his jacket pocket, produced a slightly melted orange popsicle, and thrust it at Teddie. “Here, quit whining before you flood the food court,” he muttered, but there was an almost brotherly warmth behind the words.

Teddie’s face lit up in an instant, the sadness melting as quickly as the treat. “Thank you, Kanji! You always know how to make my heart melt-just like this popsicle!” He clutched the cold sweet like a treasure, nibbling at it with contented little noises.

Kotone blinked, momentarily lost in the swirl of personalities and easy, chaotic affection that seemed to fill the air around these people. It was like watching a family reunion-but warmer, messier, and infinitely more alive.

Chie was the first to step forward, her stance proud, chin up, eyes bright with friendly challenge. “Hey there! Name's Chie-Inaba Police, don’t let Teddie scare you off. He’s mostly harmless.” She grinned, flexing an arm in mock threat. “I keep the streets safe… and sometimes Yosuke in line!” Her voice was bracing as a gust of mountain air.

Yukiko followed, gliding up with quiet poise. Her smile was serene, her hand gentle as she brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. “I’m Yukiko -Yu’s wife, and I run the Amagi Inn just outside town." There was genuine warmth in her eyes-a softness earned from years of carrying both joy and sorrow.

Yosuke was next, offering a sheepish, self-effacing grin. “Yosuke-deputy manager here at Junes. Don’t believe everything Chie says about me, okay?” He winked, his laughter coming easy. “If you need anything, or if Teddie gets too wild, just shout. I’ll hear you. I hear everything.” He shot a look at Teddie, who was already halfway finished with his popsicle.

Rise slid in next, her presence somehow both dazzling and comforting, a celebrity utterly at home with her friends. “I’m Rise Kujikawa, but you probably know me as Risette.” She flashed her signature idol smile-bright, a little mischievous, but entirely real here, without cameras or spotlights. “It’s so cool to have you with us! Maybe we’ll do karaoke sometime.” Then, a playful nudge. “Or… you can spill all your dirt on Yuuto.”

Kotone’s eyes widened, and she laughed, a little flustered but charmed. “I… I actually do know you, Rise. I listened to your music a lot, especially ‘True Story.’ That song got me through so many all-nighters.” The confession tumbled out before she could overthink it. “I never imagined I’d be here meeting you, for real.”

Rise’s eyes sparkled, and she reached out, squeezing Kotone’s arm. “Aw, you’re gonna make me blush! Thank you-that means a lot. I hope we can get along!”

Yu, smiling gently all the while, finally turned to Kotone. His calm was steady as sunlight through glass. “Did you meet Kanji yet?” he asked, voice easy, as if inviting her to step further into the circle.

Kotone nodded, glancing over her shoulder at the tall, broad-shouldered young man with the striking red hair. “Yes, yesterday he was with Naoto."

Kanji’s lips twitched in a faint, self-deprecating smile, arms folding across his chest. “Heh. Glad you didn’t forget me after just one meeting." His voice rumbled low, and there was something bashful about it, an old shyness worn thin by years among friends.

Before Kotone could answer, Teddie burst forward in a blur of blue and white, striking an extravagant pose that could have come straight from a magician’s stage act. “Wait, wait! We haven’t had a proper introduction yet!” he declared, voice rising above the lunch crowd’s hum. “Lovely lady, I am Teddie! Champion of cuteness, protector of puns, and bear-illiant mascot for the Investigation Team! You may have heard of my beary impressive dance moves, or my paw-some sense of humor!”

A collective sigh swept through the group-Rise rolled her eyes, Yosuke sagged in his seat, Chie pressed a hand to her forehead, and even Naoto’s usual composure faltered with a small, resigned exhale. Only Kotone managed to smile, her lips quirking up at the unabashed display.

She inclined her head to Teddie, playing along. “It’s nice to meet you, Teddie. I’ll try to live up to your... beary high standards.” The groan that rolled through the group at the pun seemed to delight Teddie more than anything, and he beamed, arms wide.

Chie clapped her hands together, practically bouncing. “Alright, alright, enough with the drama! Kotone, it’s your first time at Junes with us-food’s on me. You get to pick. Wanna try the beef skewers? They’re the best. Or maybe the steak… or the chicken katsu, or ramen! Oh, the croquettes are pretty good too-actually, maybe just one of everything?”

Yukiko’s voice cut through Chie’s building excitement, gentle but teasing. “Chie, you’re doing it again.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “You said the same thing last time, remember? ‘One of everything,’ and then you barely managed to finish half of it.”

Chie looked only mildly embarrassed, puffing up. “I was carbo-loading! And this is a special occasion.” She turned a hopeful grin back to Kotone.

Kanji, meanwhile, reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a battered box of animal crackers. He shrugged. “Beef skewers sound good, but I still got my animal crackers. Breakfast of champions.” He popped one in his mouth and caught Kotone’s gaze.

Her eyes glinted with playful mischief. “If I ask nicely, can I have the penguin?”

Kanji’s grip tightened reflexively on the box. “No the penguins are mine!” he said, mock-serious, but a small, genuine smile played on his lips.

Kotone put her hands up, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to settle for steak, then.” Chie, delighted, flagged down a server and put in a whirlwind order, rattling off options with the ease of a local-beef skewers, steak, ramen, croquettes, yakisoba, chicken, and enough sides to feed a small army.

Once the food arrived, the group crowded around their tables, plates steaming and spirits high, laughter mingling with the savory scents that drifted from the trays. Kotone felt a lightness blooming in her chest-a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, she could belong in this noisy, bright, impossible crowd.

As the meal went on, the conversation shifted naturally. Yu, calm and attentive, leaned toward Kotone. “So, Kotone… we heard some of your story from Yuuto, but it’s your turn, if you want. You don’t have to tell us everything. But if you want to… We’d like to know you better.”

Kotone swallowed, the heat of the steak she’d just eaten suddenly sharp on her tongue. She looked down, hands twisting together in her lap. But their faces-earnest, patient, expectant-waited without judgment. She felt her voice catch, but she began anyway.

She spoke of her childhood, losing both her and Minato’s parents, and how that grief had splintered her life into “before” and “after.” She told them about growing up mostly alone until she reunited with Minato. Of all the places she’d lived, the people she’d met, the things she’d learned. She described becoming a Shadow Operative-how she’d fought so hard just to prove she could, longing for a place where she was not just Minato’s sister, not just a shadow behind someone else’s spotlight.

Her words turned fragile, her voice nearly breaking. “Sometimes… I feel like I’m always standing to the side. Like I’m just… extra. Not important enough to be in the center, never the one people think of first.” She twisted the napkin in her lap, eyes bright with unshed tears she refused to let fall. “It makes me feel weak. Like even if I disappeared, nobody would notice. I want… I want to belong. I want to matter to someone. I want to build up the confidence that’s always seemed out of reach. Maybe that’s selfish, but I just-” Her voice hitched, barely audible now. “-I just want to be enough.”

For a moment, the busy food court faded. The laughter and clatter, even the warmth of the midday sun through the wide windows-all of it seemed to pause, as if the whole world was holding its breath for her. No one spoke, but in that hush, something softer and fiercer than pity took hold. The kind of understanding that only comes from having stood on that same trembling threshold, uncertain and afraid, desperate to be seen.

Rise’s hand reached across the table, her grip gentle and steady. “I get that... Really, I do. Even now, I wonder if the world only wants Risette, not Rise. But you’re here now. You chose to come to try to become more then who you are now. That takes guts.” Her smile, wide and honest, reflected not sympathy but admiration.

Chie straightened, her voice bracing and clear. “Also, don’t ever think you’re just ‘extra.’ You showed up, didn’t you? Some people wouldn’t even try to go this far.” There was a hint of steel behind her warmth, a promise that Kotone would never have to stand alone as long as Chie was near.

Yukiko added, her voice soft but sure, “Sometimes the ones who think they matter least… end up meaning the most.” Her gaze met Kotone’s, unwavering. “You’re here now. And we’re glad you are.”

Yosuke, awkward as ever but sincere, managed a small, sheepish smile. “Yeah… what they said. You know, when I first got to Inaba, I felt like a complete outsider too. It took me forever to realize that just being there with everyone-laughing, screwing up, sometimes making a total fool of myself-that’s what made me belong."

Teddie, for his part, was misty-eyed, already halfway through another popsicle. “You beary much matter! Anyone who teams up with the Investigation Team is special, no ifs, ands, or bears about it!”

Even Kanji, gruff but honest, looked away in embarrassment, his voice barely a rumble. “Yeah, uh… you’re alright, Kotone. It’s not easy sayin’ that stuff out loud. You got more guts than I did.”

Naoto watched her with quiet, analytical eyes, but when she spoke, her voice was soft, stripped of all her usual defenses. “Confidence isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you build-step by step, sometimes with help. Don't hesitate to ask for a bit of help."

Kotone nodded, her chest tight with a thousand tangled emotions. There was relief in Naoto’s honesty, something bracing and kind beneath her calm, but it didn’t chase away the ache that curled under her ribs-the old, aching wish to stand tall without always trembling.

She drew in a careful breath, her voice trembling as she asked, “When are we… when are we going to the TV World again?” She glanced down at her lap, fingers picking nervously at the edge of her tray.

Yu looked over, warm and reassuring. “Tomorrow,” he said gently. “There’s no rush-not today. I would want you to get to know everyone, get a feel for the area. Explore a little. There’s more to being part of this team than just fighting Shadows.” His smile was soft but sure, quietly encouraging. “Take the day, talk to people, see Inaba. Get yourself ready-not just your skills, but your heart, too. It matters.”

For a long moment, Kotone sat there, absorbing his words. The food court had slipped back into its gentle chaos: the scrape of chairs, the laughter at the next table, the echoing chime of another register ringing up groceries. Around her, the team was drifting into their own small conversations, Teddie launching into a rambling story about a customer who’d tried to pay for takoyaki with fake money and almost fooled him, Chie and Yukiko quietly reminiscing about their school days, Rise already tugging Kanji into a selfie with a grinning, “Come on, tough guy!”

Kotone let herself relax just a little, watching the group move and flow around her-messy and real, a web of small kindnesses and in-jokes and deep history. She tried to let Yu’s advice settle in her bones. Get to know them. See the town. Prepare-not by running away from her fears, but by understanding them, and letting others see her, too.

After a while, once the plates had emptied and the conversation lulled, Kotone glanced across the table. Yu was sitting quietly, his presence steady-a quiet center in the midst of the noisy crowd. She hesitated, gathering her courage, then said, “Yu… do you mind if we talk? Alone?”

Yu’s eyebrows rose, a spark of curiosity passing over his features. But he only nodded, rising with practiced grace. “Of course." He gently motioned for Kotone to follow him. They wove through the busy food court, past the swirl of laughter and chatter and clattering trays, until they reached a quieter corner-one of those half-forgotten alcoves where the hum of the crowd faded, replaced by the softer whir of vending machines and the golden hush of mid-morning sunlight.

Yu leaned lightly against the table, folding his arms, his posture open but not imposing. He waited, watching Kotone with calm patience as she gathered her thoughts, her hands twisting in her lap.

For a moment, she stared at the table’s surface, searching for the right words. “Yu… can I ask you something personal?”

He gave a small, encouraging nod. “Anything. I’ll do my best to answer.”

She let out a shaky breath. “What makes you… you?” Kotone’s voice was barely above a whisper, laden with the ache of genuine longing. “I mean, people look at you and… they see someone strong, confident, someone who just knows how to lead. But how did you get there? Were you ever… like me? Did you ever have to push yourself, or… fight just to believe you could belong here?”

For the first time, Yu looked a little uncertain, his brows furrowing as he searched for words. He was silent, considering the question as though it deserved more than a simple answer. “That’s… harder to explain than you’d think,” he admitted at last, his tone thoughtful. “I don’t think I’m anyone special. I’m just… someone who’s learned to listen, and to care. But I wasn’t always like this.”

Kotone looked up, her eyes searching his face for some proof that he wasn’t made of something she’d never possess. “But you’re so-” Her voice faltered, frustration flickering across her face. “You always seem sure of yourself. Like nothing could shake you.”

Yu gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh, his gaze drifting to the sunlit patterns on the floor. “I used to be afraid all the time,” he confessed. “Not of Shadows, or fighting. I was scared of being alone. When I first came to Inaba, I didn’t know anyone, just a little bit of my uncle and cousin. But I then build so much time to build friendships... But I weas also scared of losing them.. Of leaving them behind, or being forgotten. The fear of abandonment, it was always there.” He glanced at Kotone, his expression gentle but earnest. “So I tried. I tried every day to reach out, to understand the people around me. I pushed myself to be stronger, not for myself, but so I wouldn’t lose the bonds I’d finally found. That’s what made me… me, I guess.”

The words hung in the warm, filtered light, sincere and unvarnished-nothing performative, just the honest shape of Yu’s memories. Kotone found herself nodding slowly, her lips pressed together as she let Yu’s words settle in her chest. A part of her wanted to keep going deeper-to lay every secret on the table, to ask if he’d ever felt as small and desperate as she sometimes did, but she stopped herself. The truth was, it hurt to hold up her own pain for too long. She shifted, letting out a faint breath, and decided-maybe for her own sake, maybe to deflect from the tight ache in her chest-to change the subject.

She found herself glancing down, gathering her thoughts, then looking up at Yu, her voice quieter now, edged with a kind of raw honesty she rarely let herself show. “Yu… I should tell you something. You may know that Yuuto and Sae-they’ve both trained me. Yuuto especially, he’s always been patient, even when I’m stubborn or doubting myself. And Sae-she’s tough, but she looks out for me.” Kotone smiled faintly, a flicker of pride cutting through her nerves. “Yuuto even had one of the Phantom Thieves train me for a while… he had the power of the Wild Card, like us. I learned a lot... but…” She trailed off, biting her lip, her knuckles white where she gripped the strap of her bag.

“But even then,” she whispered, “Something is holding me back. I’m trying to build myself up, but it always feels like there’s another wall I can’t get past. Yu...” Her eyes lifted, desperate, searching. “Can you really help me with that? Not just with fighting, or Persona stuff, but… with all of it? Learning how to belong, how to be… enough?”

For a heartbeat, Yu didn’t answer. He just watched her, the stillness in his gaze less an absence of emotion and more a careful weighing of her words, as if he was searching for the truest answer, not just the easiest one.

At last, his lips quirked in a small, reassuring smile. “I can’t promise it’ll happen right away. And I don’t know if I’ll have all the answers. But I’ll do my best, Kotone. I promise. That’s all any of us can do, right? I hope you’ll enjoy looking around, get a feel for Inaba, and for all of us. The TV World will wait till tomorrow. There’s time.” His voice was steady, never patronizing, but quietly encouraging-the kind of encouragement that didn’t try to fill the empty places with platitudes, but just stood beside you, making the ache a little lighter.

He gave her a gentle nod and, sensing she needed space, he excused himself. “I’ll let you get some air. If you need anything, just ask.” And with that, Yu walked away, blending effortlessly into the soft, golden buzz of the Junes atrium, confidence in every step-shoulders relaxed, gaze open, greeting familiar faces with that subtle gravity that made people naturally gather around him.

Kotone watched him go, her heart thumping with a cocktail of awe and longing. There was something about Yu’s presence-how he moved through the world with a quiet certainty, how the people around him seemed anchored by him, how he could listen so closely you felt like you truly existed in his eyes. He didn’t just command respect-he drew it out of people, made them want to be better, not just for themselves but for the group, for each other.

She wondered if it was something you could learn, or if it was just woven into who Yu was. She hoped-achingly-that if she kept showing up, kept reaching out, maybe a little of that confidence would find its way into her bones, too.

She watched him go, struck by how confident Yu seemed-how naturally people trusted him, how his quiet strength made the world feel a little steadier. All Kotone could do was hope that, in time, she might find that same confidence for herself.

Chapter Text

9/30/2027

Back at Naoto’s house, dawn had barely begun to scrape its pale blue fingers over the rooftops when Kotone awoke in the guest room. She lay in the quiet hush, breath fogging the window just a little, her body tense and her heart already beating fast. Sleep had been thin and restless, haunted by everything she’d seen and heard the day before: the laughter and easy camaraderie of the Investigation Team, Yu’s gentle steadiness, even the clumsy warmth of strangers at Junes.

But it wasn’t just nerves that had chased her awake at six in the morning. After her talk with Yu-after she’d wandered through Inaba’s sleepy streets, let the river breeze at the Samegawa flood plain cool her burning face, peeked at the gates of Yasogami High School-she’d felt something in her chest shift. Inaba was so different from Tokyo, from the steel-and-glass world of Iwatodai, yet in a way that felt more comforting than alien. It was a town with room to breathe.

She rolled out of bed, bare feet pressing to the cool floor. In the hush, Kotone moved to her suitcase, retrieving the sleek, folded shape of her spear. She pressed the button-snap-and it sprang out into its full, familiar length, a comforting weight in her hands. This was why she was here, after all she was here to face what lay ahead in the TV World. To prove she belongs at the shadow operatives.

She closed her eyes, fingers curled tight around the cool metal, and took a long, steadying breath. You can do this, she told herself, lips barely moving. You can do this. Her voice was a whisper lost in the dawn, but the promise rang loud inside her. The weight in her chest, both heavy and electrifying, was the mix of fear and resolve that always came before a battle-before something that mattered.

A sudden, polite knock at her door cut through the silence. “Kotone? Are you awake?” Naoto’s voice, clear and composed, drifted in from the hallway.

Kotone startled, pressing the button to collapse her spear. The weapon folded down smoothly, the threat and comfort of it suddenly tucked away and disguised as a harmless baton. She slipped it into her bag just as the door opened and Naoto appeared, dressed crisply as always.

“Do you have everything?” Naoto asked, eyes scanning Kotone with a detective’s thoroughness but softened by something warmer-concern, maybe, or understanding.

Kotone nodded, cheeks flushing faintly as she straightened. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Naoto gave a small, approving nod. “We’ll leave in five minutes. Meet me downstairs.”

And then she was gone, leaving Kotone standing in the quiet again. For a moment, she simply breathed-felt the rush of nerves, the strange calm beneath it, the sense that everything was changing.

She turned to the mirror above the desk, surveying herself with a critical eye. The Shadow Operative uniform fit perfectly, but felt new and stiff against her skin. The long, tailored black coat hugged her shoulders with its structured silhouette and high waist, the double-breasted front gleaming with silver buttons. At the hem, the coat flared just slightly, giving her both formality and freedom of movement. Beneath, the black dress shirt was neatly pressed, the collar cinched by a large, vivid red bow-its color a stubborn streak of rebellion against the darkness of the outfit. The white armband on her left arm stood out starkly, a mark of who she was now, of what she’d come to represent.

She tugged her black gloves snug, checked the neatness of her hair-tied back, a few strands left loose to soften her face. There was a nervous flutter in her stomach, but when she looked at herself, she saw not just nerves, but excitement. Determination. For the first time in months, the person in the mirror looked like someone ready to face a world of shadows.

She took one last look around the small, unfamiliar room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything-phone, badge, spear, wallet-then slipped out into the hallway, the click of her boots muffled on the tatami mats.
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Outside Naoto’s house, the sky was all pale blue and faint gold, morning just beginning to stretch over Inaba’s sleepy neighborhoods. The air held a hint of autumn, crisp enough that Kotone’s breath ghosted faintly as she and Naoto stepped out onto the narrow, quiet street. The rooftops still glistened with dew. Somewhere, a crow called, the sound sharp and lonely.

Kotone hugged her coat tighter around her, the nerves in her stomach fluttering again-but now, mingled with anticipation. They were headed for Yosuke’s place, down the same winding sidewalks where the light caught on telephone wires and the soft, distant sound of someone’s TV drifted from an open window. The walk was brisk, boots tapping rhythmically alongside Naoto’s quieter steps, the detective silent and focused at her side.

From what Kotone had gathered, Yosuke still kept the same old TV that headed to the TV world, despite the years and despite every technological upgrade that came after, he never threw it away. Maybe out of nostalgia, maybe out of something else. The Investigation Team called the old TV their history.

As they walked, Kotone’s heart pounded with something close to eagerness. This wasn’t like the training exercises the Shadow Operatives ran-sterile, controlled, safe. This wasn’t like that terrifying, desperate fusion of worlds a couple of years back, either, when Mephiles, the fallen Velvet Room attendant, had almost ripped the boundaries apart. This was the real TV World, the one she’d only heard about in files. Now, she’d get to see it with her own eyes.

The town was waking up around them, an elderly man sweeping his storefront, a sleepy girl in a school uniform darting out the door with a slice of toast. And then-something caught Kotone’s eye. A flash of bright, crimson hair, an uneven pair of glasses, and the tall, almost awkward figure of a young man helping an old woman gather her spilled groceries by the curb.

He was familiar. Kotone blinked, searching her memory-it was the same guy she’d bumped into at Junes yesterday. She nudged Naoto, curiosity bubbling up. “Hey, do you know him?” she asked in a low voice, nodding toward the young man.

Naoto glanced over, brows knitting as she observed him, that subtle detective’s calculation behind her eyes. “No, I can’t say I do. He moved to the area not long ago, but I haven’t had occasion to speak with him.” She considered, then gave a small, encouraging nod. “If you’re interested, why not say hello? It never hurts to make new connections.”

Kotone grinned, feeling a little shy but grateful for the push. “I think I will.”

She took a steadying breath and walked toward the curb, boots making gentle thuds on the dewy pavement. The morning was crisp and gold-edged, and the scene ahead had the quiet, unhurried grace of an Inaba morning. The young man with crimson hair was crouched next to an elderly woman, one hand gathering up scattered radishes, the other steadying her as she slowly rose to her feet. His posture was careful, attentive, almost gentle in its focus.

“Sanjiro-kun, you really don’t have to fuss so much,” the old woman said, her tone both fond and teasing, the syllables of his first name drawn out deliberately.

The young man flushed, clearly unused to the familiarity. “I prefer you call me by my last name... Kuroki.” he replied, his voice half-protest, half-humor.

She waved him off with a crooked smile. “You always say that, but if you keep helping out like this, you’re just Sanjiro to all of us.”

He looked away, scratching at his cheek, his smile embarrassed and soft. Then his gaze landed on Kotone, lingering for a second with recognition. She could see the flicker in his eyes-he remembered her from Junes yesterday, the almost-clumsy bump in the aisle, the quick, shy apology exchanged between two strangers.

“Good morning,” Kotone said, bowing a little as she approached, her uniform neat and formal but her posture relaxed, approachable.

Sanjiro turned, his crimson hair almost glinting in the pale gold of the morning. For a beat, he just looked at Kotone, recognition dawning in his eyes-a flicker of surprise, then an easy, sheepish smile. “Hey. From Junes, right? Didn’t think I’d bump into you again so soon,” he said, rising from his crouch. He brushed off his knees, careful not to jostle the armful of radishes he’d gathered.

Kotone nodded, warmth rising in her cheeks. “Well Inaba is a small place after all,” she said with a soft laugh. She glanced at the old woman, who was tucking the last of her groceries into a faded bag, then back at the young man. “Do you help out around here a lot?”

He shrugged, a little bashful, but there was a frank honesty in his answer. “Yeah. Like I said before, feels good to do something-even if it’s just the little things. He looked away, lips quirking in a self-conscious grin. “Guess it makes me feel like I’m part of things around here.”

Kotone considered that, her gaze gentle. “That’s admirable. I try to help out too, when I can. Back at home, I have friends-Rio and Saori-who are always getting roped into things. Feels good to be useful.” There was a wistfulness in her voice, an echo of nostalgia for the days when one of her biggest worries were helping her friends vent about homework. She smiled softly, almost apologetic for the tangent, the past tugging at her like a half-remembered song.

Sanjiro’s reply was slow in coming, as if he weighed each word. He set the last radish in the old woman’s bag and straightened, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “It’s not just about helping, I guess. For me, it’s about being... somebody. Someone people notice. Somewhere I can belong.” His voice was quiet-almost lost to the hush of the morning-but in the spaces between his words, Kotone heard something raw and achingly familiar.

The words caught in her throat. She blinked, suddenly aware of the weight in her own chest. The hunger to be someone, the need to carve out a place that was truly hers-those feelings pulsed beneath her skin like a secret heartbeat. There had been nights in Iwatodai when she’d wondered if she’d ever belong anywhere, or if she was just a shadow flickering at the edge of someone else’s story. She felt that ache now, the longing to be recognized, to matter-to herself, to others, to the world.

Sanjiro must have seen something in her eyes, because he cleared his throat and gave a lopsided, self-conscious grin. “Well. I’d better get going. Got a lot to do before work.” He shifted his weight as if he might leave, then paused, scratching his head sheepishly. “Oh-wait. I didn’t even get your name.”

Kotone blinked, then laughed-soft and genuine, the sound surprising even herself. “It’s Kotone. Kotone Shiomi.”

He repeated it, almost testing the shape of it on his tongue. “Kotone... That’s a nice name.” He offered her a crooked wink-quick, a little awkward, but earnest. “Guess I’ll see you around, Kotone.” Then he turned and started off down the street, the rising sun turning his crimson hair to a smear of flame.

Kotone watched him go, a strange, fluttering warmth curling in her stomach-a little hope, a little envy, a little recognition. The old woman beside her chuckled as she hoisted her bag. “He’s a nice young man, that one. Always helping out, but never wants a fuss made about it.”

Kotone nodded, glancing after Sanjiro’s retreating figure. “Yeah... from what I’ve seen, he is.” She hesitated, watching him blend into the waking town, that need in his words still echoing in her mind. “He just wants to be somebody,” she murmured, “and... so do I, I guess.”

The old woman smiled-a knowing, gentle thing. “Don’t we all, dear? But sometimes, you’re already somebody to people, even if you can’t see it yet.”

Kotone gave a grateful smile, feeling both comforted and exposed, then dipped her head in farewell before turning to retrace her steps. The world felt a little brighter, a little more possible, as she moved back toward Naoto-heart still pounding, but now with something that felt almost like courage.

Naoto was waiting where she’d left her, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, eyes sharp but softened by a hint of a smile. She arched an eyebrow as Kotone approached. “How did it go?”

Kotone thought for a moment, searching for words that would do the moment justice. “It was... nice. He seems like a good person. Kind. The kind who just wants to find a place for himself.” She looked at Naoto, a quiet honesty in her voice. “I get that very well.”

Naoto gave a small, approving nod. “Inaba attracts those sorts, I’ve noticed. People looking for something, or someone. Or maybe just trying to become someone new.” She turned, tilting her head toward the road. “Come on. The other's are expecting us.”

They started walking, boots and shoes whispering against the damp pavement. The world was fully awake now-children laughing in the distance, the smell of baking bread curling from a nearby window, the thrum of a scooter zipping down the street. Kotone breathed in the autumn air, the scents and sounds of Inaba folding around her like a gentle embrace.

Chapter Text

Finally, after a while, they made it to Yosuke’s house, which seemed perfectly normal-at least from the outside. The white paint glowed softly in the morning sun, tidy shrubs lined the walkway, and a wind chime tinkled faintly on the porch. The windows were thrown open to the autumn air, carrying the distant hum of a waking town. For a moment, Kotone found herself oddly comforted by how ordinary it all looked, as if the place were holding its breath, guarding its secrets behind a polite, everyday mask.

Naoto rang the doorbell with her usual composed precision. Kotone shifted from foot to foot, the nerves and anticipation that had been simmering since she’d left the guest room now returning in full force. She felt the weight of the day ahead like a stone in her pocket-this was the first real step, the point of no return. She glanced sidelong at Naoto, who was the very picture of calm, her gaze fixed on the door with quiet resolve.

Nothing happened for a moment-just the soft creak of wind in the eaves, the far-off laughter of schoolchildren. Kotone’s heartbeat was a drum in her ears. She found herself tiptoeing back and forth, half hoping someone would answer, half hoping for just one more minute to collect herself.

Then, suddenly, the door flew open-not to reveal Yosuke, but Chie, her short brown hair tousled and her eyes bright with the energy of someone who’d already had two cups of coffee before breakfast. “Hey! You made it! Come on in, don’t just stand there-you’ll catch a cold!” Chie’s voice was as welcoming as ever, the kind that made even the unfamiliar feel like home.

Kotone let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and followed Chie inside, with Naoto at her side. The entryway was spotlessly clean, shoes lined up in neat rows, and a subtle scent of citrus cleaner in the air. It surprised her-she’d expected chaos, maybe a stray game controller or an avalanche of junk mail-but instead everything gleamed, polished and warm.

“Yosuke’s grown up a lot,” Chie said, as if reading Kotone’s thoughts, grinning as she led them down the hallway. “Guess being an adult will do that to you.” Her voice was teasing but proud, a thread of nostalgia running through it.

They passed through the house-a cozy living room filled with soft sunlight and family photos, a kitchen where a kettle steamed gently on the stove, and finally reached the door to the garage. Chie pushed it open with a flourish. “This way! Everyone’s waiting.”

Inside, the garage had been transformed. Where once there might have been bicycles or boxes of holiday decorations, now the space was bright, organized, and humming with quiet excitement. Yosuke stood at the center, his old easy smile unchanged but his posture more assured, a quiet confidence in the way he greeted them.

The group was all there-faces from memories both sweet and bittersweet-each one bearing traces of the years that had passed but still unmistakably themselves. Yu stood nearby, hands in his pockets, his presence as steady and reassuring as always.

Yu’s eyes softened with welcome as Kotone and Naoto entered. “I’m glad you made it,” he said, his voice low and genuine, the familiar cadence warming the room more than the gentle sunlight filtering through the garage windows. A current of anticipation ran through everyone-unspoken, yet palpable in the way they stood a little straighter, in the way their gazes flicked from the TV at the far end of the room to Kotone herself, waiting.

Kotone looked around, drinking in the details. On the workbench, an old radio quietly played a nostalgic tune, almost drowned out by the low hum of conversation and the nervous shifting of feet. There, propped against the wall, was the television-the TV. The one they’d used to go into the Shadow World years ago, that had changed all their lives. Its glass surface gleamed in the light, utterly unremarkable and yet impossibly significant. For a long moment, she simply stared at it, her reflection caught between present and past.

She approached, the air thick with memory. “So… all I have to do is put my hand in?” she asked, barely above a whisper, her breath catching with awe and uncertainty.

Rise stepped forward, her voice both encouraging and matter-of-fact, colored with a maturity that came from years of experience but still carrying her trademark brightness. “That’s how it starts. The first time’s always a bit weird, but you’ll get the hang of it."

As Kotone reached out, her foot suddenly caught on something. She glanced down-there was a magazine, half-hidden beneath a pile of extension cords. Before she could even stoop to pick it up, Yosuke darted in with impressive speed, grabbing the magazine and tossing it into a bin so quickly it was a blur. His face was red as he forced a laugh. “Ah, sorry about that! I, uh-wondered how that slipped away. Don’t worry about it!”

Teddie’s face was a perfect of shock, his paws clapped to his cheeks. “Yosuke! After all these years? I’m so disappointed in you!”

Kanji snorted, folding his arms. “Like you’re any better, furball. Don’t forget that time you hid those magazines under the couch.”

Teddie puffed out his chest indignantly. “I had good reasons! They were for… research purposes!”

Yukiko, her laughter like chimes, shook her head. “Research? Teddie, what could you possibly be researching with those?”

Naoto, dry as ever would speak. “Yukiko, do you really want to know? I assure you, some mysteries are best left unsolved, especially when it comes to Teddie’s so-called research.”

Kotone couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up, the tension in her chest finally easing a little as the old group’s banter filled the room. This was what she’d heard about-the strange warmth that grew between people who had faced the impossible together, who carried each other’s scars and joys in equal measure. They were, undeniably, a family.

But the TV drew her gaze again, a dark window waiting to be opened. Yu stepped beside her, the others’ laughter fading as the reality of what was about to happen settled in. He offered her a gentle, steady look. “Are you ready?” he asked, his tone soft, yet edged with the kind of seriousness that let her know he understood exactly how much this moment meant.

Kotone nodded, swallowing hard. “I am.”

Yu smiled gently, eyes shining with a reassuring calm. “Alright. We’ll do a little exploring-no need to rush anything. Here.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of distinctive glasses, their yellow rims almost cheerful against the serious atmosphere. He pressed them into Kotone’s hands. “You’ll need these.”

Kotone turned them over, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Are these for the fog? I read in the reports that the fog inside the TV world is hard to see through-and even harder to breathe.”

Yu’s smile warmed, approval clear in his gaze. “I’m glad you read up on it, already ahead of the curve.” He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “These will help. Just stay close, and if you feel dizzy, let us know.”

Chie bounced on her heels, energy barely contained. “Alright! Are we all ready to go?” Her voice broke through the hush of the room, pulling everyone’s attention together.

One by one, heads nodded-Yosuke’s with a crooked grin, Kanji’s with a grunt, Rise’s with her trademark enthusiasm, Naoto’s with quiet certainty, and the others with varying degrees of anticipation or anxiety. Kotone’s heart pounded so hard she felt it everywhere.

Yu approached the TV, rolling his shoulders once as if shedding the last of his hesitation. Then, with practiced confidence, he pressed his hand flat to the glass. Instead of resistance, his palm passed straight through. The surface shimmered, a circle of white light blooming around his wrist before it swallowed his arm and then his whole body. He disappeared with the quiet hush of a curtain falling, leaving the room in awed silence.

Kotone’s breath caught in her throat-she’d read about it, heard stories, but nothing prepared her for seeing it herself. She looked down at the glasses in her hand, slipped them on, and took a single step forward. The TV’s surface shimmered with possibility. With the others watching-some tense, some grinning-she reached out.

The glass was cool, tingling beneath her fingertips, then suddenly, impossibly, her hand vanished inside. For a split second, Kotone’s mind stuttered at the impossibility, but then she felt herself pulled forward, as if gravity itself had shifted. She let herself go.

Everything became white, an endless, blinding sea. Then, from the white, jagged black lines twisted and bent, shapes forming and reforming like static. Kotone tumbled through it all, the world both too bright and too dark, the lines slicing through the whiteness in dizzying patterns-until, just as abruptly, it ended.

She fell hard onto something solid. The impact jolted her, scattering the storm of anxiety and awe that had filled her chest. Blinking rapidly, she realized with shock that there was a floor here-smooth and cold beneath her palms. Kotone pushed herself upright, heart thundering, and stared around. The world had changed.

She was in a vast, shadowy space that shimmered with artificial light. The air felt thick, humid with fog, every breath tasting faintly metallic. Her first impression was of a TV studio-a place built out of sets and false backdrops, cameras set up on tracks, strange painted facades half-shrouded in mist. There were bright stage lights overhead, but the beams were fractured by swirling clouds of pale gray fog, drifting slowly across her vision, muffling sound and shadow alike. 

Kotone reached for her glasses and slipped them on. The difference was instant and remarkable-the haze thinned, the world snapping into sharper relief. Shadows still gathered thickly in corners, but now she could make out details, the scuffed studio floor, the rows of empty seats beyond the set, the blinking red tally lights of cameras that had no crew. She took off the glasses again-the world blurred and dimmed. She slid them back on, marveling at the strange power.

A sudden commotion behind her-she barely had time to turn before the rest of the group tumbled through, landing with varying degrees of grace. Naoto stepped out, brushing herself off with composed dignity, followed by Chie, who almost tripped over Yosuke as he sprawled across the floor with a muffled “Ow!” Kanji grunted as he landed, while Yukiko covered her mouth to stifle a nervous laugh. Rise all but bounced up, eyes shining with excitement.

And then Teddie rolled in, landing on his feet with an acrobatic little flourish that belied his ridiculous costume. “Welcome, Kotone-chan!” he sang out, spreading his arms wide, his round face beaming with pride. “Welcome to my home!"

Kotone stared at the bear in disbelief, her mind flashing back to the dossiers she’d read. Teddie, the strange shadow-bear with a zipper running around his head. The files had been clear, Teddie’s head was, quite literally, detachable-an empty costume with a heart that wasn’t supposed to exist. But it felt impossible, seeing him bounce and beam in front of her.

Curiosity-and mischief-sparked in Kotone’s eyes. She strode over, hands behind her back, affecting an air of casual innocence. “So… Teddie, is it true what the records say? That if someone takes off your head, there’s… nothing inside?”

Teddie froze, his little paws instinctively flying to the zipper on his head. “W-w-wait! Kotone-chan, that’s, um, classified information!” he squeaked, scooting backward with surprising speed. “Please don’t! I need my head, I really do!” His voice warbled with theatrical distress, but his eyes were round with genuine fear.

Kotone grinned, reaching out to ruffle the fur on his head, teasing but gentle. “Relax, Teddie-I’m not about to unmask you... yet. I just had to see if you’d react.” She couldn’t help a soft chuckle at his melodrama, finding herself warming to him already.

Yukiko, watching the scene with amusement, tilted her head. “Kotone, do you tease people often?” There was genuine curiosity in her tone, tempered by that serene, almost motherly calm.

Kotone paused, considering. “Only if they’re fun to tease-and if it helps them relax,” she admitted, meeting Yukiko’s eyes with a wry smile. “I find it breaks the tension.” The admission was honest, her voice softening as she looked around at the group.

Yu, standing quietly at the edge of the group, finally spoke. His voice was warm but commanding, a note of leadership clear in it. “Alright. We’ll start at the town,” he said, his gaze sweeping over everyone, making sure they were all ready. “No one goes off alone, and keep your eyes open. If you feel anything strange, speak up immediately.”

The group nodded as one, the atmosphere shifting-banter fading into the shared weight of anticipation. Kotone took a steady breath, the old rhythm of focus and readiness settling over her. She reached into her bag, pressed the button, and snapped her spear to its full length-the cold, reassuring weight grounding her, centering her nerves into action.

Yu took the lead, pushing open a door at the far end of the studio. The fog rolled in thicker here, swirling around their ankles as they left and onto a small town street, but off in subtle, disturbing ways. Lamp posts bent at crooked angles. The sky above was a static-filled red, the horizon bending strangely, as if the world itself were a warped reflection of Inaba. The buildings had that familiar rural charm, yet the colors were ever-so-slightly wrong, saturated in patches and pale in others, with shadows crawling where sunlight should have been. Even the air felt unreal-thicker, tinged with a strange chill that prickled against the skin and made every breath taste faintly of copper and static.

Kanji’s boots echoed hollowly on the distorted pavement, his brow furrowed in suspicion. “Where the hell are the shadows this time?” he muttered, scanning the empty streets, hands balled into ready fists. His voice, usually so brash, was tinged with unease.

Chie was beside him, squinting into the fog. “Yeah… Feels too quiet,” she said, glancing warily from shadowed doorways to the flickering lights overhead. “Usually by now we’d have run into a couple, or at least heard something moving.” Her posture was tense, weight balanced on the balls of her feet, ready for anything.

Yosuke rubbed at the back of his neck, the old nervous grin flickering across his face as he spun slowly in place, eyes scanning every storefront and alleyway. “I don’t see anything, either. Did something change in the TV World while we were away? It feels different… colder, maybe.”

Naoto had her revolver drawn already, blue eyes cool and calculating as she surveyed their surroundings. The gun looked impossibly heavy in her gloved hands, but her grip was steady. “Let’s be careful. We should check out that one area...” she advised, her voice low but crisp.

Kotone’s fingers tightened instinctively on her spear. Her mind flicked through the files she’d pored over in Iwatodai, searching for clues, but there had been nothing specific-only a string of reports about erratic Shadow activity.

She found herself glancing at Yu, whose quiet presence was already becoming a kind of anchor. He was studying the dreamlike street with a faraway focus, as if he could feel the world shifting beneath their feet.

Yu turned to the group, his eyes scanning each of them. “Let’s head for the hospital,” he said at last, voice sure, as if the answer had been resting just beneath the surface all along.

A hush fell over the group. Even Kanji, who was never one to balk at a challenge, shifted uncomfortably. The hospital, even outside of the TV World, was a place thick with unspoken fears. Here, in this warped reflection of Inaba, it felt more like a wound in the landscape-a place where memories bled through into the present.

They moved as a unit, boots and shoes muffled by the thick, cold fog. The world around them seemed to flicker, the colors sometimes too bright, sometimes drained as if the light itself was exhausted. Kotone glanced at the buildings they passed-so familiar, so fundamentally wrong. An alleyway yawned open to their left, swallowing all sound. Every window seemed to watch them.

The hospital came into view: a pale block in the gloom, edges warped as if painted by an unsteady hand. It looked abandoned, yet something in the air shivered with intent.

But the front entrance was not open as Kotone had expected. Instead, massive iron chains crisscrossed the doors, glinting dully in the filtered red light. At the center hung a great black lock, its surface etched with strange, twisting marks that seemed to writhe when looked at too long.

Yukiko stepped forward, worry creasing her brow. “We’ve tried opening it before,” she said softly, glancing at Yu and Chie. “Even tried breaking it. Nothing worked. The chains wouldn’t budge.”

Kotone stared at the door, a chill rippling down her spine. She felt drawn to it, a magnetic sense that something was waiting for her on the other side. Moving almost without thinking, she stepped forward, reached out, and pressed her palm to the center of the lock.

The metal was ice-cold beneath her hand-and then, suddenly, it burned hot, tingling all the way to her shoulder. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the lock shook violently.

The chains began to rattle, the sound echoing in the dead air. Kotone staggered back as, one by one, the links snapped and fell to the ground, vanishing before they could touch the floor. The lock itself split with a sound like shattering glass, and the hospital doors drifted open with a low, haunted creak.

For a moment, nobody moved. The group stared at Kotone, at her hand, at the now-unlocked entrance. Even Teddie was silent, his big round eyes wide with awe and confusion. The only sound was the echo of the chains collapsing, still reverberating in the empty fog. It was as if time itself had frozen, the hospital looming before them, doors hanging open in a silent invitation.

Chie broke the spell first, voice a tremulous whisper. “How did you…? We’ve tried everything.” She stepped closer, peering at Kotone’s hand as if expecting to see the answer etched into her skin. Kotone flexed her fingers uncertainly, searching her palm for an explanation. There was nothing-just the faintest tingling, as though some strange current had passed through her.

Kanji looked from the shattered lock to Kotone and back again, his frown deepening. “That was messed up,” he muttered, more uneasy than he wanted to show. “You okay?” Kotone nodded, though her heart was still thundering. She didn’t have words for what she’d felt-a sudden surge of heat and cold, a pull like something deep within the hospital had recognized her.

Yosuke stepped up, trying for levity but unable to keep the worry out of his voice. “Guess you’re the VIP today, huh?” He gave her a wobbly grin, only to jump at a sudden, distant sound.

A child’s scream, sharp and echoing, cut through the fog like a knife. It sounded impossibly young, full of terror and pain, ringing out from somewhere deep inside the hospital.

Chie flinched, her fists clenching at her sides. “Was that a kid?!” Her words trembled, panic rising in her eyes.

Kanji bolted forward, shouting into the shadowed entrance, “Hey! Kid! Are you there? Answer me!” But the scream had already faded, swallowed by the darkness within.

Yu stepped forward, jaw set, eyes narrowed with silent determination. The rest of the group drew in behind him, the fear in the air sharp and electric. Kotone met his gaze, the unspoken question hanging between them-should they go in? Yu’s posture left no doubt. He was ready, even if what waited inside was beyond imagining.

One by one, they filed into the hospital, the doors groaning shut behind them with a hollow finality. Inside, the air was colder still, thick with the metallic tang of blood-or was that just Kotone’s fear, her mind conjuring horrors from the stains splattered across the pale walls? Red marked the corridor, smeared and drying, pooling in cracks on the linoleum floor. The lights flickered overhead, painting everything in sickly, uneven shadows.

Kotone’s stomach twisted. She pressed a hand to her mouth, breathing slow and shallow through her nose, praying it wasn’t really blood. Yosuke hovered nearby, his face drawn and pale as he tried not to stare at the stains.

At the end of the hall stood a battered elevator, its doors gaping open as though waiting to swallow them whole. Chie inched toward it, hands trembling as she jabbed at the cracked button. The elevator groaned and shuddered, the lights inside strobing erratically.

“Do we have to take that thing?” Rise muttered, her voice strained. The elevator’s battered doors gaped open like the mouth of some half-starved beast. Inside, the sickly yellow light flickered and buzzed, making every shadow crawl.

Chie’s hands shook as she jabbed at the button, her knuckles pale. “Please just work. Please just work,” she whispered, almost to herself, squeezing her eyes shut for a heartbeat. The panel glowed red, and the doors groaned shut, sealing the group in a small metal box that rattled with every breath.

The elevator jerked violently-then dropped. Not slowly, not with any sense of safety, but all at once. They plummeted, weightless for a fraction of a second that felt like forever. Teddie squealed, launching himself straight into Kanji’s arms in a panic.

“Kanji, help!” Teddie clung with a death grip, paws clutching at Kanji’s jacket.

Kanji’s eyes bulged, face turning red, and he tried to pry Teddie off with one arm while the other flailed for balance. “Gah, Teddie get off! I can’t breathe, you little-!”

With a Herculean effort, Kanji heaved Teddie away, sending him tumbling across the floor just as the elevator screeched to a halt. Everyone lurched. Yukiko instinctively grabbed Yu’s arm, clutching it with desperate trust, drawing close as if his presence alone could anchor her. For a moment, the world was nothing but pounding hearts and the whine of ancient machinery.

Kotone steadied herself, fingers tight around her spear. She forced herself to look up, to breathe, to remind herself that she wants to be someone, but she had to be brave-even if her knees were shaking. "Remember why you’re here. You can’t lose it now." The doors creaked, then jammed halfway. A cold draft snaked through the elevator as the flickering yellow lights buzzed above, painting jittering shadows over anxious faces.

Beyond the half-open doors, a cracked linoleum stairwell beckoned, the overhead bulbs blinking uncertainly, shadows coiling up the steps like smoke. For a moment, no one moved, the memory of the elevator’s wild descent holding them still in its aftershock. But then Yu stepped forward, voice unwavering as he addressed the group, “We’ll take the stairs. Stay close, and keep your Personas ready.” His calm, steady presence seemed to bring a silent agreement, and one by one they stepped into the dim stairwell.

Their footsteps echoed up three floors, the only sound a steady cadence of boots on old tile and the faint creak of pipes in the walls. The air grew heavier with each flight, the silence sharpening the tension, until every breath tasted faintly of rust and fear. Kotone climbed near the front, the weight of her spear both a burden and a comfort, every muscle taut with anticipation. The others were quiet-Yosuke tried to make a nervous joke, but it died quickly in the thick gloom. Kanji muttered under his breath, hands shoved deep in his jacket, his eyes scanning the shifting shadows above.

At last, they reached the top floor. The landing was cold and empty, lined with flickering overhead lights that sputtered like dying fireflies. The corridor stretched out before them, doors yawning open on either side. Wallpaper peeled in long, curling strips, and the faint, metallic tang of something old and forgotten hung in the air. Each step forward was a quiet defiance against the dread that pressed in on all sides.

As they walked, Kotone couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched-eyes behind every window, every shadow. Her gaze flickered over the empty nurses’ station, the abandoned gurneys, the stretchers dusted with debris. Suddenly, Yukiko stopped short, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Look…” she said, and pointed.

Words, painted in a sickly, uneven hand, sprawled across the wall just ahead, "am I... a somebody?"

The letters bled down the peeling wallpaper, their meaning hanging heavy in the stale air. The group clustered closer, uncertainty flickering from face to face. Yosuke frowned, reading aloud as if hoping the words would make more sense if spoken, “‘Am I somebody?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

The question lingered, unsettling in its raw simplicity. Chie’s fists clenched as she stared at the message, her bravado flickering. Kanji glanced nervously down the corridor, voice a low grumble. “Feels like somethings is messing with us…”

Yu’s expression was thoughtful, his eyes narrowing as he studied the wall, then shifted to Rise. “Rise, can you scan the area? Anything out of place?”

Rise closed her eyes, drawing a deep, shaky breath, the faint shimmer of her Persona, Himiko, flickering into view beside her. “I’m… picking up something. The atmosphere is weird-unstable. There’s something here, but it keeps shifting, like it’s-”

Kotone cut her off, her voice tense as she stared at the nearest window. “You don’t have to tell us,” she said, her tone flat and urgent.

Everyone turned, eyes wide as the temperature seemed to drop another degree. Outside, shadows pressed against the glass-vague human shapes twisted into grotesque parodies, claws scraping, mouths stretching open with inhuman hunger. Their eyes gleamed yellow through the fog, and when they bared their jagged teeth, a sickening anticipation churned through the corridor. Suddenly, one slammed against the window, spiderwebbing the glass. Then another, and another-the panes shuddered under the assault, until the glass exploded inward in a cascade of shards. Shrieks, half-human and half-beast, filled the hallway as the creatures tumbled in, darkness and fog rolling at their heels.

Yu’s command sliced through the chaos. “Personas-now! Don’t let them close in!” His tone was urgent but unwavering, the sound of a true leader. Instantly, the group leapt into action, years of training and instinct snapping to the surface.

Chie surged forward, her footwork precise, summoning Tomoe in a flash of gold and emerald.

Yosuke spun his kunai, Jiraiya exploding into being behind him, wind swirling with razor-sharp intent.

Kanji’s fists clenched, electricity crackling as Take-Mikazuchi roared into existence.

Rise, not a fighter but ever the heart of the team, projected Himiko, her senses scanning, relaying enemy positions with the sharpness of a broadcast in her mind.

Yukiko’s Konohana Sakuya flared with red fire, petals swirling like embers.

Naoto’s Sukuna-Hikona gleamed silver and blue, revolver leveled, every movement calculated.

Teddie, heart pounding, leapt in front of Rise and raised his paws, his voice trembling but brave. “bear-sona!” he cried, summoning Kintoki-Douji. Teddie squared his shoulders, eyes narrowed with fierce determination. “No Shadows are getting past me-not today!”

Kotone’s heart hammered in her chest. She reached into her bag, felt the familiar cold grip of the evoker-an artifact of a life she’d never quite left behind. She took a deep, steadying breath, the memories of her old battles crowding her mind. This was what she had prepared for, what all her nights of doubt and hope had led her to. Raising the evoker to her temple, she whispered, “Here we go.” With a practiced pull, the trigger clicked. A pulse of blue light burst from her, and her Orpheus materialized. 

Chapter Text

At the Kirijo mansion, it was peaceful to say the least-so gentle that it felt like the quietest hour before a storm. In a sunlit nursery, far from fog or shadows, laughter rang out-bright, clear, and small. Minato stood in the center of the room, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, holding his baby daughter aloft.

Little Asami giggled, kicking her feet in the air, her hands clenching the empty air as her father lifted her higher, as though the ceiling itself were just a suggestion. Her joy was infectious, the kind of sound that made even the stone-cold silence of the mansion walls soften. Minato grinned-a real, unguarded smile, rare as rain in summer-his eyes crinkling with warmth as he brought Asami down and kissed her forehead. Then, as if she’d given him permission, he tossed her up again and caught her, her delighted shrieks filling the room like bells.

He only stopped when Asami’s tiny fist latched onto his tie, yanking hard enough to undo the knot he’d just made. “Hey, hey, not the tie,” he scolded gently, lowering her to his chest and pretending to glare. “That’s cold, Ice Cube. I need that for the meeting.” But his tone was fond, soft as dusk.

As he rocked her, Minato’s eyes flicked to the old flip phone on the dresser. No new messages. He checked again, just to be sure, but the screen stayed blank-no text from Kotone, not even a missed call. He let out a breath, trying not to show any disappointment for Asami’s sake. It wasn’t like his sister to forget, but he told himself she was probably busy, maybe on her mission by now.

The door creaked open and Mitsuru stepped in, sunlight glancing off her red hair, eyes immediately drawn to her husband and daughter. Asami saw her mother and wiggled, arms outstretched, demanding to be picked up. Mitsuru obliged, scooping her close. “No text from Kotone?” she asked quietly, arching an elegant eyebrow.

Minato shook his head, straightening his tie with Asami’s sticky-fingered assistance. “She’s probably started. Once she’s focused, nothing gets through... well that's what she says.”

Mitsuru’s gaze softened, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. “Are you having second thoughts?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

He shook his head, slow and sure. “No. I know she can handle herself.” But even as he said it, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Asami’s forehead. Mitsuru watched him for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, silent reassurance shared in a glance until he spoke. "Besides, not like she would roll down some steps."
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Kotone was thrown from the stairs-her shoulder slammed hard against a cracked step, the breath knocked out of her lungs. Pain lanced up her side. She rolled, gritting her teeth, boots thudding down the filthy steps as she tried to control her tumble. “Ow-ow, ow, god-” she grumbled, voice muffled by the crook of her arm.

The shadow she’d been fighting-a twisted, shrieking figure with elongated limbs and sunken, masklike eyes-leapt after her. Its claws punched into the wall, sending shards of plaster flying. The thing screeched, luminous mouth split wide, dragging itself closer, hunger in every jerky movement.

Kotone forced herself up, ignoring the bruises blooming beneath her skin. Her spear snapped into her grip. She feinted left, dodging another swipe that gouged a bloody trench in the wall behind her, then lunged, driving the blade deep into the shadow’s midsection. The creature screamed-a wet, metallic sound-as dark vapor burst from the wound. She yanked the spear free and pushed past the monster, racing up the stairs two at a time, heart hammering, desperate to regroup with the Investigation Team.

As she sprinted, the world blurred around her-the battered walls, the stench of old blood, the sharp taste of fear at the back of her throat. Each step shot pain through her ribs, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the distant clamor of battle echoing above. She was almost there.

The stairwell spiraled, the sick yellow glow of the bulbs flickering overhead, shadows darting up and down the walls like living things. Kotone’s boots slipped on broken tile, her breath coming in ragged gasps, every step echoing with the memory of that twisted shadow’s scream. She clutched her side where pain throbbed-something deep and sharp, maybe a cracked rib-but she pressed on, the sound of distant fighting pulling her forward.

She rounded the landing and burst through a battered door, spear first, into chaos.

The hospital room was a theater of combat. Fluorescent light stuttered overhead, painting the warped space in shifting bands of green and gray. Shadows pressed in from all sides-misshapen, hungry, eyes glowing sickly yellow as they encircled the Investigation Team. The group fought as one, every movement instinctive, honed by years of battles and hard-won trust.

Yosuke and Chie fought back-to-back. Yosuke’s kunai flashed, wind swirling at his feet as Jiraiya’s energy swept through the ranks of Shadows, slicing through them with razor gales. Chie moved like lightning, Tomoe spinning behind her as she unleashed a devastating kick, the force rippling outward, shattering a shadow that had managed to slip past Yosuke’s guard.

“Chie, on your right!” Yosuke shouted, throwing a kunai just as a snake-like shadow lunged. Chie pivoted, driving her heel through the creature’s mask-it exploded in a burst of tarry smoke, evaporating in the weird air.

At the far end of the room, Kanji and Naoto had formed a deadly front. Kanji’s fists glowed with electricity, Take-Mikazuchi roaring behind him as he slammed a shadow into the floor hard enough to crack the tiles. Naoto stood beside him, utterly composed, revolver drawn, her Persona Sukuna-Hikona hovering like a silver wraith. She aimed, calculated, and fired-a perfect shot-dispersing a shadow with a ripple of blue psychic energy.

Kanji grinned, hair wild, sweat streaking his brow. “Keep them coming!” he shouted, adrenaline turning his usual gruffness into something wild and bright.

Rise stood at the center, Himiko’s presence glittering around her in an aura of vibrant pink and gold. Her eyes flashed with concentration, relaying the shifting enemy positions to the others, her voice confident and urgent. “Yosuke, two more coming in from the left! Naoto, something big just moved in the hall!”

Yukiko and Teddie were close by, the gentle yet fierce heat of Konohana Sakuya blossoming around Yukiko as she called down petals of flame, burning shadows to cinders. Teddie’s Kintoki-Douji was a wall of protection, smashing aside a pair of leaping creatures with a single, thunderous blow.

Teddie, for all his trembling, stood tall in front of Rise. “Nobody’s getting through me!” he cried, shaking but resolute.

“Thanks, Teddie!” Rise called, her confidence bolstered by his courage.

Kotone caught sight of Yu near the heart of the battle, calm amidst the chaos. Izanagi’s lightning forked down, slicing a shadow in two as Yu turned, gray eyes finding Kotone in the swirl of battle. His presence was grounding-steady, commanding, his every movement a clear signal to the others that they would not fall.

Kotone staggered toward him, wincing. Yu moved to her side instantly, concern darkening his gaze. “Are you hurt?” His voice was low, steady, but a line of worry creased his brow.

She managed a wry smile, though pain made her breath hitch. “I’ll be fine. Just… maybe a broken rib. Don’t worry about me.” She straightened, spear ready, refusing to show weakness.

Yu’s gaze was gentle but unyielding as he stepped closer, his voice firm but threaded with worry. “Stay close to me, Kotone.” He moved with a grace and quiet confidence that settled the air around him, shoulders squared as he took a protective stance at her side.

But before Kotone could even nod, a flicker of movement caught her eye-a shadow lunged from the half-broken window, a grotesque thing with an elongated mask and too many teeth, its jaws snapping for her face. In a split second, she raised her spear, but the shadow bit down, teeth scraping the shaft with a shriek of metal and hunger.

Yu was already moving. In one smooth, practiced motion, he reached into his jacket, crushed a tarot card between his fingers, and the familiar electricity crackled around him. “Izanagi!” His voice cut through the din as the blue lightning exploded into the room. The Persona materialized with a flash of light and a roar, swinging its blade down in a sweeping arc that cleaved the shadow in two. The creature’s shriek was abruptly silenced, its body evaporating into black mist.

All around them, chaos erupted into focus. Shadows poured through every gap-jagged things, some lurching on all fours, others gliding along the walls with unblinking yellow eyes. Kotone’s adrenaline surged. Yu pressed his back to hers, his eyes scanning for threats. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, voice tight with concern.

She gritted her teeth, rolling her aching shoulder, refusing to let her fear show. “I’m fine." She steadied her spear, eyes flashing.

Yu’s lips twitched in a small, fierce smile. “Good. Let’s move.”

They leapt into the fray together, a seamless unit. Shadows rushed them from both sides-one lunged at Yu, claws outstretched, but he ducked low, drawing another card and calling Izanagi again. The Persona unleashed a torrent of lightning, blasting two shadows back with searing force. Kotone spun her spear, sweeping the legs out from under another shadow as it tried to flank Yu, then drove the blade down, pinning it through the mask. It convulsed, then dissolved into smoke.

The world shrank to the chaos of battle-the flickering hospital lights overhead, the thick, metallic tang in the air, the hiss and snarl of Shadows circling with predatory hunger. Yu and Kotone fought back-to-back, each movement honed by instinct and trust. Yu called upon Izanagi again, shattering a Shadow with a crackling Zio, the flash illuminating the terror on the creature’s mask for a split second before it vanished.

Kotone twisted her spear, using the momentum to knock another Shadow’s arm aside, then countered with a swift strike to the chest. Her Orpheus flickered into being behind her, strumming its lyre, and a resonant wave of fire-Agilao-swept through three Shadows at once, setting them alight. They shrieked, staggering back, black vapor pouring from their wounds.

At the far side of the room, Kanji and Naoto formed a formidable pair. Kanji’s fists glowed with static, Take-Mikazuchi roaring above him, unleashing a devastating Maziodyne. Lightning arced across the floor, catching Shadows mid-leap and hurling them into the walls with enough force to crack the plaster.

Naoto, unflinching, moved with razor precision. She fired her revolver in rhythm with Sukuna-Hikona’s skills, a burst of Megidolaon erupting from her Persona, engulfing a trio of Shadows in a sphere of blinding light. One particularly resilient Shadow tried to sneak past her, but with a calm, practiced motion, Naoto unloaded a bullet of blessed energy-Hamaon-straight through its mask. The Shadow shattered in a rain of white shards.

Kanji grinned, eyes wild, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. “You picked the wrong day, bastards!” he roared, swinging his chair-now crackling with electricity-down on a Shadow’s head, obliterating it in a shower of sparks. The static lit up his features, making him look almost spectral in the hospital gloom.

Nearby, Yosuke and Chie moved in flawless synchronicity. Yosuke’s kunai were a blur, each one guided by Jiraiya’s gale winds, slicing through the air to scatter Shadows like leaves in a typhoon. He spun, catching a Shadow in the side, and called, “Chie-left!” Chie was already moving, Tomoe at her back. With a cry, she launched into a spinning kick, her Persona’s energy flaring emerald green. Tomoe unleashed Bufudyne, a massive spike of ice erupting from beneath a group of Shadows, freezing them in place just long enough for Chie’s foot to shatter them with a single, earthshaking blow.

“Nice shot!” Yosuke grinned, ducking under a swipe and countering with a Garula. Wind scythed through another Shadow, slamming it into the wall. “You still haven't lost a step!”

Chie’s eyes sparkled with adrenaline. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of everyone! Especially when we got a new partner!” she shot back, launching herself into the next group, feet flying.

Yukiko wasn’t far behind. She took position at the heart of the group, calm but fierce, Konohana Sakuya blossoming into the air behind her in a swirl of crimson petals. “Everyone, stay close!” she called. Waves of soft red flame rolled from her persona, wrapping her friends in gentle heat-mending cuts, dulling the ache of bruises, weaving hope through every heartbeat.

“Maragidyne!” Yukiko’s voice rang clear. A pillar of flame erupted, devouring a lunging shadow with a whoosh of burning petals. The creature screamed and dissolved, leaving only black vapor and a fading echo of hatred in its wake.

Rise stood just behind Teddie, her hands clasped at her heart, eyes shut tight in concentration. Himiko shimmered beside her, antennae spinning with electric pink light. “Boost incoming!” Rise cried, her voice ringing with confidence. “You got this! I’ll keep the defense up, just hang in there!” A wave of golden energy spread out, bolstering the group’s resolve, sharpening their focus, making the impossible seem almost routine.

But the shadows pressed in, more vicious than before, shapes flickering through the fog, claws gleaming. One broke away from the pack-a nightmare of fangs and hunger-lurching straight for Rise.

Teddie’s instincts kicked in. He leapt, fur bristling, eyes wide. “Not today, meanie!” he roared, and Kintoki-Douji crashed down in front of him like a golden colossus. The persona’s massive axe gleamed with lightning-“Maziodyne!”-and a storm of electricity erupted, slamming into the shadow. It howled, convulsed, and vaporized, not even ash left behind.

Rise’s eyes opened, grateful and shining. “Thanks, Teddie!"

At the center, Yu and Kotone fought side by side, a fluid, fierce rhythm. Yu’s voice was calm, clipped, every movement deliberate-Izangi roaring at his back, thunder dancing in his outstretched hand. “Zionga!” Lightning tore through two shadows, throwing them against the far wall.

Kotone, still cradling her bruised side, matched Yu’s tempo, her spear whirling. She braced, called out: “Orpheus, Agilao!” Her persona strummed its lyre, and a bolt of fire arced across the room, catching three shadows in a roaring blaze. They wailed, withered, fell silent.

But there was no time to rest. A trio of shadows-more animal than human-pounced at Yu from the side. He spun, drawing another tarot card. “Izanagi, Rampage!” In a flash, Izanagi struck, slicing through all three in a storm of crackling blows.

The shrieks of the shadows echoed against the blood-stained walls, scattering black mist as they dissolved. Yet, just as the echoes faded, a fourth shadow reared up-taller than the rest, its limbs twisted and masklike face gleaming with unnatural light. It darted straight for Kotone.

The world narrowed to a point-the sickly flicker of the hospital lights, the metallic taste of fear and ozone in her lungs, the distant voices of her friends shouting her name. The shadow lunged, claws reaching. Kotone’s hands tightened around her spear. She barely felt her ribs anymore, just the surge of determination that steadied her arm as she thrust the weapon forward.

The spear pierced the shadow’s mask. Instead of dissolving, the creature froze. For an agonizing heartbeat, time itself seemed to stretch, holding the team in the hush between worlds.

Then it spoke. Its voice was warped, almost childlike, rippling through the fog. “I listened… I did everything… I was promised-promised I could be… somebody…”

A chill deeper than the fog swept through the hospital. The shadow’s words fell like stones into a still lake, rippling outward. The Investigation Team stared, rooted by a horror they couldn’t name-this wasn’t a shadow that reflected any of them, not a twisted echo of their hearts.

Kotone’s grip faltered, her breath caught. The shadow’s mask cracked down the center. It turned its head toward her, as if seeing her for the first time, then toward the others. “Was it… enough?” it whispered, voice already thinning like mist. "Am I... somebody."

Its form unraveled. Black vapor bled away, folding in on itself, until the thing was gone. Only a thin spiral of fog remained. As silence reclaimed the room, a faint click drew Kotone’s eyes downward.

A photograph had fluttered from the dissipating mist, settling quietly on the dusty tiles at her feet.

For a moment, nobody moved. The air was brittle, full of dread and questions. Kotone stooped, her hand trembling as she reached for the photo. She turned it over, a young man gazed back at her, brown hair tousled, glasses slightly askew, his school uniform crisp but ordinary. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. The shy smile on his lips was achingly familiar, the kind you might pass in the hallway and forget-except.

She felt the weight of the team at her back. The others clustered around, their faces etched with shock, confusion, a dawning sense of guilt.

Yosuke peered over Kotone’s shoulder, voice rough. “Who… is that? Was he… a real person?”

Chie frowned, worry making her eyes dark. “Is this… something we did? Did someone get lost here… and we never found them?”

Rise’s face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, she pressed her hand to her chest, summoning Himiko’s soft glow. The Persona’s antennas whirred, searching. “There’s nothing else nearby,” she said at last, voice tight. “No other shadows… not even a trace of a human heart. Just… empty.”

Yu’s jaw was set, his eyes unreadable. He took in the photograph, the broken glass, the lingering fog, then nodded once-decisive, as always. “We should leave,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Not right now.”

The group was silent as they made their way back through the broken corridors, down the ruined stairwell, and out into the thick, static-laced fog of the TV World’s false town. Kotone walked at the back, the photograph clutched tightly in her hand. She kept turning it over, searching for some clue-an inscription, a name, a date-but there was nothing. Only that smile.

Yu caught up beside her, matching her pace. His presence was steadying, even now. He glanced at her, then at the photo, then away again, as if the silence between them was the only comfort he could offer. “Try not to think about it too much,” he said, his voice gentle but heavy with unshed sorrow. "If this is another mystery of people disappearing and shadows getting stronger... then we will solve it."

Kotone looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of reassurance beyond his words. She felt the photo’s glossy edge bite into her palm, grounding her as reality spun unsteadily beneath her feet. With a small nod-more for herself than for Yu-she let the silence settle, heavy but companionable, before she stepped out of the ruined hospital and into the breathless, unreal twilight of the TV World’s false town.

The others had already begun regrouping at the town’s distorted square, the last of the adrenaline bleeding from their voices, replaced now by the brittle hush that comes after crisis. Chie stood in the half-light, fists pressed to her hips, calling names and counting heads with forced cheer. Yosuke sagged against a warped streetlamp, scrubbing a shaky hand through his hair. Rise was close to Teddie, who seemed unusually subdued, ears drooping beneath the painted smile. Kanji and Naoto watched the periphery, their stances tense, eyes flickering through the fog for movement that wasn’t theirs.

Kotone started to follow, but the sensation prickled at her again-a presence, cold and insistent, somewhere behind her. She paused mid-step and glanced back, narrowing her eyes. The glasses helped, cutting through the thick swirls of fog that gathered in the alleys and clung to the crumbling storefronts. She could make out shapes-jagged, shifting, the architecture of a world not meant for human eyes-but nothing truly distinct.

Then, in the wavering gloom, something caught her gaze, a silhouette, nearly swallowed by the haze. Someone standing, distant yet somehow close, as if space itself folded strangely here. Their figure was wrapped in a long scarf, black clothing blending into the shadows, a hood drawn low over their face. Kotone’s heart kicked up, her breath hitching in her throat. She blinked, rubbed at her eyes. When she looked again, the spot was empty-only the curling mist remained, swirling in the wake of someone, or something, no longer there.

Maybe it was just a trick of exhaustion-leftover adrenaline from the fight, the edges of her vision haunted by stress and memory. She pressed the heel of her hand to her brow, willing herself steady.

“Hey! Kotone!” Chie’s voice rang out, urgent and unmistakably real. “Come on, we’re heading out! Don’t lag behind!”

Startled, Kotone shook herself free from her thoughts and hurried to catch up, the photograph still clenched in her hand and the phantom of that watcher lingering at the edge of her mind.

Chapter Text

At Yosuke’s garage, it was quiet-eerily so-until the TV that the Investigation Team had propped against the wall flickered, its surface suddenly going white. In the stunned silence, the screen rippled, and, one by one, the group was expelled into the morning light with a chaotic tumble, first Yu, landing on his feet with habitual grace, followed by Chie, who rolled with the impact and popped up ready for anything. Yosuke landed with less finesse, hitting the floor with a yelp and a groan, Kanji behind him, cursing as he tried to keep Teddie from bouncing into a pile of extension cords.

Then Kotone tumbled out, rolling once before catching herself on her elbows, breathless, her hand still clutching the photo she’d found in the hospital. For a second, she lay there, the world spinning, her heart pounding like it wanted out of her chest. The garage-normal, sunlit, smelling faintly of oil and lemon cleaner-felt almost unreal after the warped, stifling fog of the TV World.

Yu moved to her side in a heartbeat, his hand reaching out to steady her. “You alright?” His voice was gentle, worry softening the steel in his eyes.

Kotone pushed herself up, a little unsteady, her muscles aching from the fight and from the disorienting passage between worlds. The dizziness was overwhelming for a moment, it was like being dropped back into her own skin after floating somewhere very far away. She gave Yu a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Just… dizzy. Might be from my first time in and out,” she tried to joke, but the shake in her voice betrayed how deeply the day had rattled her. “Or maybe it’s because I got used as a punching bag in there.”

Kanji crouched beside her, concern hidden behind his scowl. “You sure you’re okay? You did took a hell of a fight back there.” He tried to keep it casual, but his eyes darted to the bruises blossoming on her arm.

“I’m fine,” Kotone said, a bit too quickly, forcing herself to sit upright. She felt the smooth edge of the photograph in her hand. She stared at the young man’s face, that shy smile, trying to make sense of the ache it caused.

Naoto moved closer, quiet and analytical as always. Her gaze flickered over the photo, sharp eyes narrowing with thought. “May I see that?” she asked softly, kneeling beside Kotone.

Kotone handed the photograph over. The others gathered in, crowding around as Naoto held it up to the light. The garage filled with a hush, everyone peering at the image of the boy in the old uniform.

For a long moment, no one spoke-their silence was heavy, filled with questions that none of them could yet answer. Shadows and sunlight played across the concrete floor, the dust motes drifting like little echoes of everything they’d just been through.

Naoto studied the photograph carefully, her blue eyes sharp with thought, but her expression was unreadable. She turned the photo over in her gloved hands, looking for a name, a date, some scrap of context-there was nothing. Only the boy’s gentle, uncertain smile gazed back at them, forever suspended in that single captured moment. With a soft exhale, Naoto slipped the photograph into her jacket pocket. “I’ll examine this more closely later,” she said, her tone gentle but final.

Kotone, still kneeling on the cool concrete, swayed a little. The world spun softly, as if the boundary between the TV and reality was still fraying at the edges of her senses. She blinked, struggling to clear the haze, but the ache in her ribs and the taste of static in her mouth made every breath a little unsteady.

Yukiko was the first to notice, gentle hands reaching for Kotone’s shoulder. “Kotone... I think you need to rest,” she said, her voice warm with concern.

Kotone didn’t argue. The adrenaline was fading, and the tremor in her hands was impossible to hide. She managed a small, grateful smile. “Yeah… I think that’s a good idea.”

Naoto was already beside her, her hand steady on Kotone’s arm, offering subtle support without a word. Together, they stepped out of Yosuke’s garage and into the clear, late morning air. The sunlight felt strangely thin after the pallid, static light of the TV World, the wind on Kotone’s face was sharp with autumn. Each step away from the threshold was an effort, the world blurring at the edges from exhaustion and lingering pain, but Naoto’s presence anchored her.

Behind them, the rest of the Investigation Team lingered, processing everything that had happened. Yosuke, arms folded tight across his chest, frowned at the TV as if expecting it to spark back to life at any moment. “How long do you think someone could have been stuck in there?” he wondered aloud, his tone uncharacteristically somber. The memory of the boy’s photograph hovered in everyone’s minds, heavy as stone.

Rise, usually the first to offer optimism, only nodded, her gaze distant. “We finally got through the entrance to the hospital thanks to Kotone, but… what if there’s another place, another door, another person?” Her voice trembled at the edges. She wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold the uncertainty at bay.

Teddie, shifting uneasily, let his round ears droop. “You might be on to something Rise-chan. Maybe e there’s another entrance, somewhere we didn’t look. Maybe there’s… another one to find.” His words hung in the air, thick with dread and a hint of guilt.

Yu stood a little apart, contemplative as always, gray eyes fixed on the spot where the TV still flickered faintly with afterimages of their return. “It reminds me of when Adachi was behind everything. We only found out because we were lucky, and we worked together. If there’s another person, someone the world forgot, the TV might be the only place they’re left. We can’t assume the danger is over.”

The garage felt too small for the weight of their doubts. No one wanted to be the first to leave, afraid that letting the silence swallow their questions would mean letting go of the boy whose photograph now lived in their memories.
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After a while, Kotone and Naoto made their way back to Naoto’s quiet house. The walk was mostly silent, save for the sound of their footsteps on the pavement and the distant hush of wind ruffling the last green leaves from the neighborhood trees. By the time they reached the front door, exhaustion was etched into every line of Kotone’s face, though she tried her best to hide it.

Inside, the world seemed to slow. Naoto offered her a careful nod of reassurance-her way of saying “if you need anything, let me know”-and then let Kotone go, respecting the need for privacy that sometimes follows a day like this.

Kotone climbed the narrow staircase to the guest room. Once inside, she pressed the door gently shut and sagged against it, letting her breath shudder out. The room was small and spare, but she found comfort in the simplicity. She peeled off her Shadow Operative uniform with a series of aching movements, every bruise from the battle-especially the ones blooming along her side from the fall-protesting the touch. Even with the training she’d endured with Sae and Yuuto, nothing quite prepared her for this, not just pain, but the ache that comes from fighting for more than survival, for meaning, for answers that never seem quite within reach.

She slipped into something soft and loose-a borrowed T-shirt, navy blue, and flannel pajama pants-and sat heavily on the edge of the futon, rubbing at the sore spot on her ribs. The photograph Naoto had taken from her still flickered behind her eyes. She tried to chase the image away, but even as she curled beneath the thin quilt, the questions remained.

As she lay back and closed her eyes, the exhaustion pulled her quickly downward. Yet sleep, when it came, was troubled and thin. She tossed in the bed, brow furrowing, a light sheen of sweat breaking out along her hairline. The battle, the photo, the child’s voice in the hospital-am I somebody?-all churned together until she startled awake, heart racing.

She blinked. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the guest room, wasn’t even Naoto’s house. She was standing in a corridor lined with mirrors, the floor echoing beneath her bare feet. The air shimmered with a faint, blue glow, as if the world had been tinted through stained glass. The silence was deep and expectant.

She turned slowly, her reflection watching her from every angle-but these were not just her. Each mirror held a different Kotone. One, younger and trembling with fear, hands clenched tight. Another stood with eyes narrowed in denial, jaw set stubbornly against some unseen truth. A third held herself rigid, her posture screaming with the strain of expectation-the weight of all she was supposed to become. Still others shimmered into view, subtle differences layering the corridor with memory and possibility. Each version of herself wore the same uniform, the same colors of blue, but in every glass her expression changed-hope, worry, longing, pride.

The atmosphere grew heavier, the blue deepening. Something was wrong, she felt it as a chill down her spine-a shift in the world’s balance.

She spun around, heart hammering, and saw them: at the end of the corridor, a man sat behind a large desk, his features marked by an impossible nose that curled and stretched beyond normal proportions. His eyes were bright and ageless, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Behind him, a second man stood quietly, tall and dressed in blue, a small cap perched neatly atop his blond hair.

“Welcome to the Velvet Room,” the old man intoned, voice both grave and strangely soothing, as if spoken in a dream. He folded his hands on the polished surface of the desk. “It is very nice to see an old face again.”

Kotone blinked, the words landing oddly in her ears-an old face again-but she’d never seen this place, or this man, before. Her mouth opened, searching for something to say, but before she could gather her thoughts, he snapped his long fingers, and a blue velvet chair shimmered into existence behind her, upholstered in a fabric that seemed to ripple with light from a world just out of reach.

She sat down carefully, the plush seat swallowing her in gentle comfort. The old man’s smile deepened. “My name,” he began, “is Igor. This is the Velvet Room-a place between dream and reality, mind and matter. Those who come here are often on the precipice of great change, walking paths none can predict. Tell me, Kotone… what is it that you seek to become?”

She hesitated, still disoriented by the endless blue and the flickering mirrors that stretched behind her, each reflecting a different version of herself. She felt, for a moment, as if all her thoughts had been laid bare, and the weight of every hope and doubt pressed close.

Igor’s eyes, bright and ancient, softened. “To be someone… it is a journey marked by struggle and uncertainty. Along the way, you will meet those who would guide you, hinder you, love you, or fear you. Every step, every shadow, every bond… they shape who you are, and who you will become.”

He gestured with a languid sweep of his hand, and from the swirling blue at his side, another figure emerged: a tall young man with striking blond hair and a crisp blue uniform, his posture stiff but somehow gentle, the nameplate at his chest reading Theodor. His eyes, a piercing blue, widened just slightly as he regarded Kotone, as if seeing something impossible.

“Allow me to introduce Theodor,” Igor continued. “He is an attendant of the Velvet Room. Like me, he has waited long for a guest such as yourself.”

Theodor bowed, the gesture elegant but almost hesitant, his gaze flickering over Kotone’s face with a peculiar intensity-almost as if he were seeing a ghost. “It is a great honor,” he said, voice quiet and precise. “Welcome. I sense… a familiar strength within you.” There was something haunted in his expression, but also a spark of hope, as if her very presence had stirred long-dormant memories.

Igor’s voice was low, his words settling deep. “Kotone, you stand at a threshold. To become someone is not to lose what you are, but to accept every shadow and every light you carry. The Velvet Room exists to aid you-should you ever require guidance, or a place to rest your weary soul. But now, your journey continues. I hope we can meet again soon, under clearer skies.”

He leaned forward, his impossible nose catching the ambient blue glow. “It is time to wake up. Remember, the path of becoming is never walked alone.”

The room began to dissolve, the blue velvet and endless reflections fading into mist. Kotone felt herself sinking-through the chair, through the world, through memory itself-until darkness claimed her again.
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10/1/2027

Kotone woke slowly, consciousness drifting up from the dark, tangled edge of a restless sleep. For a moment, she lay perfectly still, the echo of strange blue velvet and mirrored corridors lingering at the corners of her memory. Her ribs ached-a dull, familiar pain that flared when she drew a deep breath. She pressed a palm to her forehead, groaning softly, trying to make sense of the fractured images slipping away, an old man with a long nose, mirrors filled with impossible reflections, a boy in a photo whose eyes followed her even into dreams.

But it was just a dream, she told herself. Just the leftover static of a day spent teetering between worlds.

She forced herself upright, feet sinking into the soft tatami mats of Naoto’s spare room. Sunlight was filtering through the blinds, painting lines across her borrowed flannel pajamas. With a slow exhale, she shrugged on the navy T-shirt, ignoring the ache in her side, and stepped into the hallway. The distant, quiet sound of the television-low news murmurs, nothing urgent-guided her toward the living room.

Naoto was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a notebook open and a half-finished mug of coffee steaming on the table. She looked up at Kotone’s soft approach and offered a small, genuine smile.

“I see you’re up,” Naoto said quietly. “I called your name a few times yesterday evening-you were dead to the world.”

Kotone managed a sheepish grin, settling carefully into a chair beside her. “Sorry… guess I needed it. That was… more than I expected. The TV world is different than the Dark Hour box. The training room, I mean. It gets my heart pounding, but this-” She gestured helplessly, fingers tracing the bruise she could feel under her shirt. “-feels like it digs deeper. Makes me wonder if it’ll be easier next time. Or maybe harder. Maybe the second time, I’ll be ready for it.”

Naoto’s eyes glimmered with gentle amusement as she set down her pen. “Things are rarely easy when fighting Shadows, Kotone. Not for any of us."

Kotone’s gaze drifted to the coffee table-and there it was. The photograph. The boy’s face, caught forever in the shimmer of old film, his smile uncertain but genuine. Her hand hovered over it, not quite touching. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that the real fight was only just beginning.

A sudden knock at the door shattered the quiet tension. Naoto’s posture shifted instantly, analytical calm slipping over her features as she rose to answer. Kotone watched as Naoto crossed the room with measured steps, her hand steady as she slid open the door. Pale morning light spilled in, illuminating the threshold-and there stood Yu, but he wasn't alone he was with his uncle Ryotaro Dojima.

“Morning,” Yu greeted, voice quiet but warm. Dojima nodded, his gaze flicking from Naoto to Kotone before settling on the photo still lying on the coffee table.

“What is this about a photograph?” Dojima asked, his tone steady but already touched by something deeper-worry, perhaps, or the ache of old regrets.

Naoto gestured them inside. The two men entered, filling the room with a sense of urgency. Kotone instinctively sat straighter, clutching the edge of her seat. She offered a silent nod and passed the photograph to Naoto, who handed it to Dojima without a word.

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant rumble of a passing truck. Dojima studied the picture in the watery morning light, brows knitting. His eyes widened-just a fraction, but enough for everyone to see. He swallowed, the silence suddenly sharp.

He finally spoke, voice roughened with something deeper than exhaustion. “I know this kid,” Dojima said, not taking his eyes from the photograph. “He’s from Tsukigase Ridge High School. Name’s Kenzo Katayama. Police have been looking for him for nearly seven months.”

Kotone’s fingers tightened on her borrowed mug. “Why did he go missing?” Her question was gentle, but there was a strain in her tone, as if she needed an answer not just for Kenzo, but for herself.

Dojima let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Nobody knows for sure. There were rumors… he was picked on a lot. Teachers said he kept to himself, didn’t cause trouble. Some classmates told us he was always saying he wanted to be ‘somebody.’” Dojima’s jaw clenched. “Maybe that’s why he was so vulnerable. We don’t know exactly what pushed him, just that… he vanished. No one saw a thing. He just… disappeared.”

He glanced at Yu, at Naoto, at the roomful of faces turned toward him-each marked with the scars of their own past encounters with the TV World. “Is it really true?” he asked, voice dropping, seeking confirmation. “What Yu told me yesterday… about this kid, about the TV world… Is it all true?”

One by one, heads nodded. Dojima closed his eyes for a heartbeat, the lines on his face deepening. When he spoke again, his words were heavy with old pain. “Another missing person, sucked into that damned place. I thought-after Adachi, after everything that happened years ago, after… Hayata… I thought we were done with all this.” He shook his head slowly, eyes haunted. “I didn’t think it could happen again. But I should have known… these things, they don’t just end.”

He let out a long, slow breath, as if the weight of the past and present pressed on his chest all at once. “Although-” he began, then paused, the word hanging in the still air. The others looked at him sharply, the question reflected in their faces. The morning sun outside seemed suddenly paler, the little living room in Naoto’s house now filled with a tension that had nothing to do with the TV world.

Yu was the first to break the silence, his voice gentle but steady. “Uncle… what’s wrong?”

Dojima hesitated, the air between them almost crackling with the weight of secrets. He set the photo carefully on the table, his fingers tracing its edges before pulling away, as if afraid to leave a mark. “It’s not just Kenzo,” he said at last. “There have been others. Not all here, not all recently, but… people going missing, strange reports, sightings, rumors from out of town. And right after the last case, someone broke into the station. Not physically-they hacked our system. Deleted entire case files. Everything tied to disappearances that even remotely resembled… this.” His gaze went from Yu to Naoto, and then to Kotone, who was staring at him, eyes wide.

Naoto stiffened, brows knitting together. “All digital traces erased?” she murmured, more to herself than anyone. “That would take a level of skill-”

Dojima nodded, confirming her suspicions. “Professional. Left almost no sign, just a corrupted backup and a string of code in a folder the tech guys found. If you run into another case like this-if there’s anything, a photo, an ID, even a rumor-I want you to get it to me as soon as possible. I’ll try to get you information before anyone can wipe it out again.” His eyes lingered on each of them, protective and tired. “And be careful. I mean it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and chilling. With a final, meaningful nod, Dojima made his way toward the door, leaving the faint scent of cold autumn and cigarettes behind. He paused in the entryway, looking back over his shoulder. “If something like this starts up again… promise me you’ll stay together.” It wasn’t just an order-it was a plea, the kind of request born from wounds that never fully heal.

When the door clicked shut, a strange stillness settled over the room, the memory of Dojima’s worry lingering like an afterimage.

Kotone let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her thoughts spinning with questions. How many others had been lost? How could someone erase so much so easily? And, more than anything, how could they be sure it wouldn’t happen again? She glanced at the photo on the table, Kenzo’s uncertain smile etched into her mind.

She found herself staring at Yu, as if his presence alone could steady the ground beneath her feet. “When are we going back in?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended, brimming with the tension that had built up inside her.

Yu was quiet for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. “Next week,” he said, after a pause.

Kotone frowned, shifting forward on her seat, impatience flickering across her features. “Next week? Why are we waiting? We should check now-what if there’s another clue? What if someone else-?”

Yu lifted a calming hand, the authority in his gaze softened by understanding. “Teddie and Rise went to scout this morning. We needed to see if anything changed after yesterday. So far, nothing has-no new shadows, no new locations. If we rush in now, we risk missing whatever pattern is forming.” He met Kotone’s frustration head-on, voice gentle but resolute. “We have to wait, at least for now.”

Kotone crossed her arms, not quite satisfied. “So we just… sit here?”

Naoto, ever the tactician, lowered her eyes in thought. “Perhaps not. We’ve never followed up at Kenzo’s school. There may be witnesses, rumors, something the police missed.” She looked over at Yu, who nodded slowly, the hint of a plan already kindling in his gaze.

But Kotone’s thoughts were elsewhere. Her body ached, the bruises along her side a physical reminder of yesterday’s fight, but it was the restlessness that truly gnawed at her. The TV world, the mystery, Kenzo’s photo-it all felt too big to just wait on. She drew a long, weary breath and forced herself to relax, shoulders slumping. “Maybe I should just… heal a bit more,” she murmured, as much to herself as anyone.

Without another word, she slipped away, padding down the hall. The echo of the conversation chased her to her borrowed room, and she shut the door behind her, finally alone. She sat on the edge of the futon, running a hand along the old bruise. She knew Naoto and Yu were right-they had to be careful. But patience had never been easy for her. Especially now, when every quiet moment was filled with the image of that lonely boy’s smile.

She changed into jeans and a loose sweater, hands trembling a little as she got dressed. The small, practical motions helped settle her nerves. Pulling her hair back, she glanced once at her reflection in the window-eyes shadowed, face pale-and then left the house without a word. The wind outside was brisk, bright with early autumn. Kotone let the air sting her cheeks as she walked, hoping the world outside could clear her mind, or at least offer some distraction from the pull of the TV.

Inside, Naoto and Yu exchanged a long look in the sudden quiet. Naoto’s brows drew together, thoughtful and worried. “She’s not the type to wait,” she murmured.

Yu’s gaze was steady, but his voice was gentle. “No. But sometimes the only thing harder than fighting is doing nothing at all.” There was a knowing weight behind his words-one born of battles fought, friends lost, and the kind of pain that can’t be healed by time alone.

Chapter Text

Walking around the sleepy streets of Inaba, Kotone could feel the edge of restlessness prickling under her skin, the kind that refused to be quieted by logic or reassurances from friends. She hated waiting, hated the vacuum of stillness that followed crisis, when all the adrenaline and fear left only silence and questions behind. She wanted-no, needed-to be doing something, anything that could anchor her to the real world and keep her from obsessing about the mysteries inside the TV world. But as she wandered past shuttered shops and early-morning salarymen, the ache in her side reminded her, she wasn’t indestructible, and her body had its limits.

A sharp rumble from her stomach broke the spiral of her thoughts. She paused, startled, pressing a hand to her belly, suddenly aware that she hadn’t eaten since before the investigation the day before. The scent of simmering broth and grilled meat drifted on the air, and as she rounded the corner, Kotone caught sight of the iconic red lanterns of Chinese Diner Aiya, their glow inviting against the soft gray of the morning. The sign over the entrance beckoned, “Aiya-All Year Round!”.

Her mouth watered at the memory of the diner’s famous steak bowls and spicy ramen. Deciding that she could afford a moment of normalcy, Kotone stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly. Warmth and the delicious, savory aroma of broth and stir-fry wrapped around her, chasing away the morning chill.

A few customers lingered over breakfast, but it was quiet, the kind of peace that was almost jarring after yesterday’s chaos. She slipped into a booth by the window, picking up the slightly worn menu, letting her eyes drift over the options. Ramen, steak bowl, mapo tofu… Everything sounded amazing. But before she could decide, her gaze flicked across the diner and caught on a familiar silhouette.

Across the room, sitting alone at the counter, was Sanjiro Kuroki. She almost didn’t recognize him at first-his trademark crimson hair had been dyed jet black, falling in sharp lines just above his eyes with his glasses on. He was hunched over an Aiya Steak Bowl, a set of chopsticks in one hand, eating with steady, unhurried precision. He looked different, but the set of his jaw, the quiet confidence, the way he seemed both alert and utterly relaxed-there was no mistaking him.

As Kotone watched, a little boy darted up to Sanjiro, clutching a small plush cat. The boy looked shy but determined, cheeks flushed. “Thank you for saving Momo last week, mister!” he chirped. Sanjiro glanced over, his stern features softening into a faint, wry smile.

“No problem, kid,” he replied, voice calm and reassuring. “Keep a better eye on her next time, alright?”

The boy nodded with bright, grateful eyes, clutched his plush cat to his chest, and scampered back to his mother at the corner booth. Kotone watched the small exchange from across the diner, a strange ache blooming in her chest. Sanjiro’s words were plain, but the quiet kindness behind them was impossible to miss. The way he smiled-just a small tug at the edge of his mouth-looked like someone who’d lived through more storms than he let on. For a moment, Kotone could see it in sharp relief, here was someone who knew how much it mattered to be seen, to be somebody, even if only for a fleeting moment in a diner on a gray morning.

She drew a steadying breath, then crossed the warm, noodle-scented space, boots clicking lightly on the polished floor. “Hey,” she said, sliding into the seat beside him at the counter, her voice half tentative, half bright, fighting to find her footing in the normalcy she so desperately needed.

Sanjiro glanced up at her, and that quick, wry smile returned, sharper this time with recognition. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the somebody,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with an easy confidence that made it clear he’d noticed her long before she’d noticed him. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early. You chasing shadows or breakfast today?”

Kotone snorted softly, grateful for the normal banter. “Just breakfast,” she lied, settling onto the stool beside him. She let her eyes linger on his hair, jet black now instead of the striking crimson she’d glimpsed before. “So, what’s with the new look? The red was… memorable.”

Sanjiro’s hand drifted up to his hair, and he shrugged with a nonchalance that didn’t quite hide the self-consciousness beneath. “Sometimes I like my natural color. Helps me blend in when I want to go unnoticed,” he said, lips quirking. “Not that it ever really works. Guess I get tired of being the most obvious person to see." He turned slightly toward her, gaze a little softer. “What about you? What have you been up to since yesterday?”

Kotone hesitated. She couldn’t talk about Shadows or the TV World, not even a hint. The truth was dangerous-too heavy, too strange for a breakfast conversation in the real world. She found herself staring down at her hands, fingers curling against the laminate counter, words tangling in her throat. “I was just… trying to figure things out,” she said finally, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “Still searching for myself, I guess.”

Sanjiro chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “How’s that going for you?” He arched an eyebrow, not mocking, but genuinely curious-as if he understood how rare it was for someone to even try.

Kotone let out a shaky breath, caught between embarrassment and honesty. “I… uhh. I guess I’m starting small. Trying to figure out who I am by, you know, actually having friends. Letting people in, even if it’s hard. Even if I’m not sure what I’m doing half the time.”

“That’s one way to do it.” Sanjiro nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Took me a while to learn that too. Wasn’t always easy. But I’ll tell you something-my friends, they helped me see parts of myself I never even knew were there. Sometimes you have to let others in, or you’ll never find out what you’re made of.”

Kotone managed an awkward smile, realizing she was hearing exactly the sort of advice she needed but still felt strangely out of place-just a girl who’d stumbled into his world a couple of days ago, still aching from battles and haunted by mysteries, barely knowing the man beside her. Yet, here she was, sharing a counter, letting the hum of a ramen shop and the simple kindness of a stranger fill the space where urgency and fear had been pressing too tight.

She didn’t answer at first. Instead, Kotone sat down, let her shoulders drop, and exhaled. The scent of broth and sizzling meat settled over her, a welcome distraction. For a moment, she just watched Sanjiro eat, finding comfort in the mundane normalcy of chopsticks tapping gently against a bowl. She wanted-needed-to be back in the TV World, searching for answers, but she knew that right now, all she could do was try to breathe, try to exist here, even if her heart was restless so she decided to stay around.
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Hours later

Meanwhile, in Okina City, the Investigation Team gathered outside Tsukigase Ridge High School. It was nothing like their old school-a fortress of clean glass and concrete, five stories high, flanked by a sprawling fence crowned with security cameras and gates watched by serious-looking guards in navy blazers. Beyond, the campus sprawled lush with manicured hedges and sleek walkways. The sun glinted on polished windows as students in crisp uniforms clustered near the entryway, laughing, trading stories, and looking every bit as privileged as the school’s reputation suggested.

Kanji stared up at the entrance, jaw slack. “Damn. This place is bigger than the hospital,” he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Makes our school look like a shed.”

Yosuke, leaning on the fence beside him, smirked. “What’s the matter, Kanji? Feeling nostalgic for those old days—when you used to stomp around looking like a delinquent, or just missing how much uglier you looked back then?” His grin widened with teasing mischief.

Kanji’s eyebrow twitched. He grabbed Yosuke by the collar, mock-threatening, though his grip was more brotherly than brutal. “Keep talking, Yosuke. See what happens next.”

Yosuke’s eyes darted for help. “Hey! I was kidding! Kidding, okay?”

Chie stepped between them, voice sharp as a slap. “Guys, focus. We’re not here to relive your glory days.” She shot them both a look, then craned her neck, taking in the imposing structure. “I gotta admit, though… this place is intense. What’s with all the cameras?”

Rise folded her arms, brows drawn together as she surveyed the sprawling facade of Tsukigase Ridge High. “Seriously! How come we never heard of this school before? When we were in high school, nobody ever mentioned it-not even when we did all that research about schools in the area.”

Yukiko nodded, her usually gentle eyes edged with the same unease. “I wondered that, too. My family hears all sorts of things about local schools, but this one almost never comes up. Even the guests at the inn hardly mention it.”

Naoto adjusted her hat, already in investigative mode. “There’s a reason for that,” she murmured, voice calm but alert. “I did some research. Tsukigase Ridge only opened a few years ago-it’s very new, and quite exclusive. Most students are from well-off families, but the school’s performance has already caught attention. Their grades, competition records, university acceptance rates-they’re all excellent. It’s supposed to be the best in the prefecture for ‘nurturing leaders of tomorrow’.” There was a faint note of skepticism in her tone, as if she’d memorized a line from a brochure but didn’t quite trust it.

Yu stood silent for a moment, gazing at the tall glass windows glinting in the autumn sun, lost in thought. His eyes drifted back to Naoto. “Did you find out who knew Kenzo? Like his homeroom teacher?”

Naoto nodded and pulled out her phone. She tapped quickly, and a photo appeared on the screen-a woman, early forties, with short brown hair, square glasses, and a reserved smile. “Her name is Masami Ishida. She teaches literature and was Kenzo’s homeroom teacher."

Teddie tilted his head, his blue eyes wide with curiosity. “Wait, Naoto-chan, how’d you get that info if the police files are all gone?” His voice held both awe and confusion, the question innocent but piercing.

Naoto didn’t hesitate. “I checked the school’s public site. They list every teacher’s class assignments and staff bios online. It wasn’t difficult once I matched the year Kenzo attended with the current faculty roster.”

Yu’s gaze lingered on the school’s gleaming entryway, attention sharpening as a figure in a navy skirt suit stepped through the doors. He recognized her instantly from Naoto’s photo-Masami Ishida. Shoulders slightly hunched, arms filled with papers, she looked tired, haunted by more than the burdens of teaching. Yu took the first step toward her, the others falling in behind him, silent and uncertain.

As Yu approached, Masami looked up, her eyes clouded with wariness that edged toward irritation. “Can I help you?” she asked. Her sigh betrayed resignation, as if bracing herself for another awkward conversation. “If you’re here for some old rumor or another stalker story, I’m not interested. I know what people have said about me, and whatever wild ideas you might have, I’m not that kind of woman.”

Footsteps echoed softly on the polished concrete as the rest of the Investigation Team approached behind Yu. The presence of so many young strangers in the crisp morning light was enough to draw a curious glance from a few teachers by the entrance, but the group held their composure.

Naoto stepped forward, her posture impeccable, the brim of her cap shadowing her sharp, serious gaze. “Hello, I'm, Shirogane. Naoto Shirogane,” she said, voice calm and respectful, but unyielding. The name seemed to land with a quiet force.

For a moment, Masami’s expression flickered, her guardedness giving way to a flash of recognition. “Shirogane… I’ve heard of your family. Investigators, aren’t you?” Her shoulders straightened slightly, as though old instincts or memories had been stirred. “What brings you all the way to Tsukigase Ridge? Is there something I can help you with?”

Naoto didn’t hesitate. She reached into her jacket, producing a worn photograph. She held it out with deliberate care, her gloved fingers just brushing the edge. “We were hoping you might recognize this young man.” Her voice softened, aware of the gravity pressing around them.

Masami took the photo in trembling hands. The world seemed to still as her eyes landed on Kenzo’s face. She inhaled sharply, the lines of fatigue and grief etching themselves deeper across her face. “Is this… is this about Kenzo?” Her voice broke softly, a single name carrying the full weight of loss.

Naoto’s tone was gentle, but the words came with the heaviness of truth. “We’re trying to understand what may have happened to him. Anything you could tell us about Kenzo-about his disappearance, about who he was-might help us find answers. Please.”

For a moment, Masami Ishida stood motionless, the photograph trembling in her hands, her eyes clouded with an ache that made the Investigation Team fall silent. The gentle sounds of distant morning-the chatter of students, the hum of cars on the street-faded to nothing. The world shrank to a point, to this one woman and the fragile image she held. She lifted her eyes to Naoto’s, searching, her voice almost inaudible. “Is he… gone?” The question hovered, raw and plaintive, as if she was pleading for them to deny it.

Nobody answered at first. The hush between them was thick with the weight of everything unspoken: the dread that Kenzo’s fate was far darker than any official report, the understanding that what was lost here could never fully be reclaimed. Masami’s lips pressed together, she closed her eyes, clutching the photo close to her chest as she bowed her head for a brief, silent prayer, murmuring a wish that wherever Kenzo’s soul wandered, he might find peace at last.

When she looked up, there was something resigned in her face-a grief honed sharp by months of guilt and helplessness. “I told the police,” she began, her voice steadier now, but every word carried the memory of that pain, “it was the bullying. That was always the reason, or at least the beginning of it. Kenzo… he was so quiet, so gentle. He didn’t fit in, not at a place like this.” She gestured vaguely toward the impressive facade of Tsukigase Ridge, as if the school itself had been complicit. “Other kids saw him as a nobody. They were harsh. Even the staff-sometimes I wonder if we did enough. He had so much potential. He once told me he wanted to be a doctor. He said he wanted to help people, to become ‘somebody’ who mattered. But the bullying…” She shook her head, voice breaking. “It just wore him down.”

Yosuke’s eyes flashed with sudden anger, his voice rough. “Could we find them? The ones who hurt him-those bullies?” There was a desperate edge to his question, as if he needed to place the blame somewhere concrete, to make sense of an injustice too large to accept.

Masami shook her head, sorrow etching lines deeper into her face. “Most of them are gone. Their families moved to Tokyo-a fresh start, or maybe just to escape the rumors after Kenzo vanished. The police talked to a few, but it led nowhere. And…” She hesitated, searching memory for anything she might have overlooked. “There was one friend he mentioned sometimes. He never gave a name-just said he had someone who understood, someone who listened. But that’s all I know. He never brought them to meet me, and after… after he disappeared, no one stepped forward.”

Teddie’s voice was unusually soft, his usual cheerfulness stripped away. “Did his folks come looking for him? Are they still around?”

The question seemed to strike a deeper wound. Masami looked away, voice brittle. “No. They gave up.” The words seemed to shame her, as if she was the one who’d failed. “They tried, at first. But there was no evidence, nothing but rumors and missing posters. The police found nothing. And in a place like Inaba-even here, in the city-things… fade. People move on, or pretend to. Eventually, they left, too. Moved away. Sometimes, the world just… stops looking.” She forced herself to meet Kanji’s disbelieving glare.

Kanji’s fists clenched, anger burning hot in his eyes. “How the hell could they just give up? That’s their kid!”

Masami only shook her head, shoulders hunching. “When the whole world seems determined to forget, even parents lose hope. Especially with nothing to hold on to. I don’t blame them, not really. But it breaks my heart. Kenzo deserved more.”

She fell silent, brushing at her eyes before her voice grew firmer, as if summoning every ounce of resolve she had left. “That’s all I can tell you. Except… one thing. Before he disappeared, Kenzo would go to the Tatsuhime shrine. He prayed, almost every week. I think he was asking for peace, for relief from everything pressing down on him. If you really want to know who he was, maybe you’ll find something there.” Her expression grew pleading, desperate. “Please, if someone did this-if someone took him, or if there’s a way to find out what happened, I beg you, don’t give up. Find his kidnapper. Find out why he’s gone.”

Yu stepped forward, voice calm but carrying the promise of someone who had seen too much loss already. “We will. I swear it.”

Masami nodded, and for a long moment, she held their eyes, searching for reassurance that maybe, just maybe, they could do what she never could. She pressed the photograph back into Naoto’s hand and, after another quick prayer, turned away, disappearing into the stream of students and teachers, her figure growing smaller until it was just another shadow among many.

As she left, the Investigation Team stood in the chilly sunlight, the morning suddenly feeling colder and more uncertain. For a moment, nobody moved, the silence between them was jagged, full of grief and restless questions.

Yosuke was the first to break it, staring hard at the empty steps. “So… all that, and he still ended up in the TV world. How? How does a kid just slip through the cracks, and nobody sees him until we did…as a Shadow?”

For a moment, nobody replied. The brisk air tugged at the hems of their jackets, stirring dust across the polished school plaza. Yosuke’s fists were shoved deep in his pockets, his face a mixture of anger and helplessness-a look that was becoming all too familiar to the Investigation Team.

Rise drew in a quiet, shaky breath. Her eyes lingered on the photograph now nestled in Naoto’s gloved hand, haunted by the weight of memory and loss. “It makes me wonder… how many more are out there?” she said softly. “If Kenzo vanished and nobody found him until now, what about the others? What if we face them as shadows?" Her voice trembled at the edges, filled with a dread she tried to keep hidden. 

Chie was quiet for a beat, her arms folded tight across her chest as she looked from Rise to the others. Her usual fire was muted, replaced by something uncertain, raw. “Wait… where’s Kotone?” she blurted, searching the group with a sudden stab of anxiety.

Yu’s gaze flickered in the direction of Chie, a thoughtful crease etching itself between his brows. “She wandered off this morning,” he said quietly. “She wanted to head back into the TV world, see if there were any new signs. But she said she should just heal a bit more." 

Teddie’s round eyes shimmered with worry, his voice soft and unusually subdued. “I hope she’s alright…"

Naoto, ever composed, adjusted her cap and cast a reassuring look over the team. “Kotone is resilient-she wouldn’t take unnecessary risks in her current state. She may struggle with patience, but I trust she’s being careful. For now, we must focus on what we can control.” With that, the Investigation Team gathered themselves, the lingering uncertainty drawing them closer together as they left the sprawling grounds of Tsukigase Ridge High.

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At the Samegawa Flood Plain, Kotone and Sanjiro made their way along the Samegawa flood plain. The wind was brisk, ruffling the grass and carrying the faint, clean scent of water and distant woodsmoke from early cookfires. The river glinted to their right, chattering softly against smooth rocks. For a while, neither spoke, content just to exist in the hush that followed real conversation-a silence shaped not by discomfort, but by the slow knitting of trust.

Sanjiro slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket, glancing sidelong at Kotone, his expression curious but gentle. “Sorry, can you run that by me again?” he asked, a faint, apologetic grin quirking his lips. “I know you mentioned family, but you kind of sped through it.”

Kotone looked out over the water, jaw working as she searched for the right words. It was always awkward-laying out the tangled shape of her family for someone else to see. But something about Sanjiro’s openness, the steadiness in his eyes, made it easier than she expected. “I have a half-brother,” she said quietly, her voice shaped by memories both sharp and soft. “Minato. He… he and I were separated for a long time. After our parents died-well, I did whatever I could to keep going, to survive. We both did.”

Sanjiro listened, not interrupting, just nodding now and then, like he knew the weight behind simple words.

“And there’s my sister-in-law, Mitsuru,” Kotone continued, a small, almost shy smile flickering across her face. “She’s… kind of amazing. Intimidating, too, but in the best way. Smart, fierce. And their baby girl-Asami. She’s only four months old. Already has Mitsuru’s stare, too. Total mama’s girl.” The warmth in her voice was unmistakable.

Sanjiro’s laugh was quiet but genuine, the sound settling over her like a comfort. “That’s pretty cute,” he said. “Four months, huh? I bet she’s already got the whole place wrapped around her finger.”

Kotone found herself chuckling, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah, she really does.”

For a moment, they just walked. Sanjiro kicked at a pebble, sending it skipping down the embankment. The wind tugged at his hair, and his expression shifted, something thoughtful passing through his eyes as he took in the pieces of Kotone’s life. “Must’ve been hard,” he said at last, softly. “Being apart from your brother. Having to make it on your own for that long… Most people wouldn’t have made it.” He glanced over, respect in his gaze. “But you did. Now you’re here, doing this… whatever this special assignment is that you won't tell me.” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, but there was nothing false about his admiration.

Kotone’s mouth twisted into a half-smile, half-grimace. “It’s never easy,” she admitted. “I’m still figuring it out. Trying to prove I belong, not just to everyone else, but to myself.” Her eyes dropped, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “And patience… isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

Sanjiro chuckled again, a knowing sound. “Join the club,” he offered, though his next suggestion came with a small, awkward shrug. “I’d say… just take it one day at a time, right? That’s all any of us can do.” But the advice sounded as thin to her as it did to him.

Kotone shook her head, a small huff of laughter escaping her. “Maybe,” she said, “but I keep thinking I should be doing more. Like I’m always running out of time.” She glanced at him sidelong. “But what about you? Any family around?”

Sanjiro’s expression shuttered for just a moment, then softened. “Not really. Most days, it’s just me.” He checked his watch, the movement quick but polite. “Actually… speaking of time, I’ve gotta head out. Work calls.” He offered her a wry smile. “Hope we run into each other again soon, Kotone.”

She smiled-genuine this time, the ache in her chest eased for just a heartbeat. “Yeah. Me too.”

He gave her a lazy salute, then turned and strode off, vanishing up the slope toward the town. Kotone watched him go, the sense of being seen-really seen-lingering after him like a handprint on her heart.

She let out a quiet sigh, the autumn air cold on her face, and for a few moments just let herself listen to the steady rush of the Samegawa beside her. The river’s flow was grounding, but the ache in her chest and the tangle of questions in her mind wouldn’t let her be still for long.

She needed to keep moving. She left the flood plain behind, boots crunching on gravel as she wandered toward the central shopping district, drawn by the familiar neon signs and the comforting bustle that pulsed there even in the slower hours. Passing shops with foggy windows and elderly women sweeping their stoops, Kotone tried to lose herself in the ordinary, hoping to press the strange weight of the TV world, Kenzo’s photo, and the velvet corridors of her dream into the background. The colors of market stalls and the smell of roasted chestnuts drifted on the air, stirring a faint pang of homesickness-of a life before all of this.

She ducked into a narrow alley between a shuttered bookstore and an old record shop, seeking a little quiet-a moment to herself. The walls rose close on either side, patched with old flyers and half-faded graffiti. She pressed her back against the cool brick, exhaling. For a moment, she let her thoughts drift, wondering if Minato was worried about her or if Mitsuru had left any messages.

The low thrum of Inaba’s main street faded behind her, replaced by the hush of the alley, broken only by the distant hum of an air conditioner and the wind threading between the buildings.

It was in that moment of solitude that a sharp, rough chuckle echoed from deeper in the alley-a sound that prickled her skin. Kotone’s eyes snapped open. Three men stood a little way off, slouched in the shadow near a broken vending machine, the glow of a cigarette illuminating hungry, assessing eyes. Their laughter had a brittle edge.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” the biggest of the trio called, voice thick with amusement and something else, something sharp and hungry. “What’s a princess like you doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

His friend, lanky and mean-faced, snickered. “Common, don’t be shy. You look so lonely. Maybe you want some company?”

Kotone set her jaw, pushing herself upright, fighting the urge to recoil. “Not a princess. Not interested in being anyone’s ‘cutie girlfriend’ either,” she said, her tone clipped, cold. She slipped her hand into her pocket by reflex, searching for the familiar, solid weight of her pop-out spear-only to realize with a pang that she’d left it behind at Naoto’s place. All she found was the edge of her phone and the smooth, useless shadow operative badge.

One of the men stepped forward, the scrape of his sneakers loud in the confined space. “Oh? Too good for us, huh?” His grin widened. “That’s alright. We like a little fight. What’s a pretty thing like you gonna do-call for help?”

Kotone didn’t flinch, but her heart hammered in her chest. “Back off. I have powerful friends, and you don’t want them showing up,” she shot back, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

The biggest thug laughed, the sound booming off the bricks. “Yeah? Where are these so-called powerful friends now, princess? Didn’t think so.”

He reached for her, hand outstretched. Kotone tensed, ready to twist away, fight back with fists if she had to, pain still echoing through her bruised ribs from the last battle. The world seemed to narrow, the alley suffocating, every sense heightened as adrenaline surged.

But then, footsteps-measured, calm-rang out from the mouth of the alley. All four of them turned, Kotone’s heart leaping, as a new figure stepped into the dull light.

He was taller than any of the men, shoulders broad beneath a crisp white suit jacket and black shirt, silver hair swept back from a sharp, calm face. His eyes were the color of storm cloudy-gray and unreadable-and though he seemed at ease, there was a current of coiled power in the way he moved, the faintest ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

The leader of the group bristled, turning toward him with a sneer. “Get lost, dude. This doesn’t concern you.”

The newcomer’s smile widened, slow and sure. “Why don’t you leave the lady alone? I’d hate to see you embarrass yourselves any further.”

Laughter rippled through the thugs. One, bold or just foolish, lunged forward, fist cocked. “I said back off!”

The man in white didn’t so much as blink. His hand snapped out, catching the thug’s fist midair, grip iron-strong. For a heartbeat, the alley was silent. Then, the stranger grinned-sharp, predatory, almost delighted. “Fine. I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured.

The thug barely had time to register the words before the stranger twisted his arm, shifting his weight in a movement as smooth as it was merciless. A dull, sickening crack echoed through the narrow alley as the thug was yanked forward, off balance. The man in white’s fist shot up-one sharp, practiced jab-striking the thug clean on the chin. The impact lifted him from his feet, his eyes rolling back as his knees buckled and he crumpled in a heap against the wall. He didn’t move again.

For a split second, the other two men hesitated, uncertainty flickering across their faces. But bravado and adrenaline spurred them on. The lankier of the pair lunged first, swinging a broken bottle in a wild arc, hoping to catch the stranger off guard. It was hopelessly slow.

The man in white leaned aside, every motion measured and precise. His hand darted out, seizing the attacker’s wrist and twisting-hard enough to make the man cry out, the bottle tumbling uselessly to the ground. Before he could recover, a brutal knee came up into his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs with a guttural wheeze. Another step, and the man in white pivoted on his heel, driving an elbow into the back of the thug’s neck. The man dropped, folded to the ground, gasping for air.

The last thug, heavier and broad-shouldered, tried to rush him, roaring more in fear than fury. He threw a clumsy haymaker, but the man in white ducked under the swing, slipping inside the thug’s reach. In a flash, his fists snapped out-a rapid barrage of body blows, each punch landing with clinical precision, targeting the solar plexus, the ribs, the soft spot just under the arm. The thug staggered, reeling, and the man in white finished with a short uppercut that snapped the man’s head back, sending him sprawling on the dirty pavement with a groan.

In less than thirty seconds, the fight was over. Three men sprawled on the cracked concrete, groaning or utterly still, the only sounds their labored breaths and the soft hum of the wind threading through the alley.

The man in white exhaled, a controlled breath, as if letting go of tension that had never quite touched him in the first place. His knuckles were unmarked, suit pristine save for a slight crease where he’d rolled his shoulder. He walked toward Kotone with the relaxed confidence of someone who’d done this countless times, every movement radiating effortless strength and calm.

Kotone, heart pounding, pressed herself back against the brick, a mixture of awe and disbelief battling in her chest. Only now, as the adrenaline began to fade, did she notice the way the sunlight caught on the man’s silver hair, the familiar, unreadable glint in his eyes.

He paused a few steps from her, his expression softening as he looked her over. “Are you alright?” His voice was gentler now, concern threading through the steel.

For a moment, Kotone could only stare-really look at him. The crisp white suit, the athletic build, the faint scar near his eyebrow, the steady, grounded presence. Recognition flooded her like a jolt for he was... an ex Shadow Operative named Akihiko. 

Chapter Text

Kotone blinked a few times, staring up at the man in white. Akihiko Sanada-she’d met him just once before, at a Kirijo Group gathering, back before Minato’s return, before her own world had begun unraveling into secrets and shadows. Even then, he’d seemed distant, set apart by the hard edges of experience and the quiet confidence of someone who’d survived more than anyone should. But now, here he was, in this mundane alley, as if fate had reached down and nudged their paths together again.

She remembered reading his file, after joining the Shadow Operatives. Akihiko the undefeated boxer, the man who’d hunted down shadows across continents, who’d seen friends die and lived through the weight of that grief. She remembered, too, the note at the end said that he resigned after Yuuto took command. the reason was to find a new life, to help others grow, to leave fighting behind. Supposedly, he was a gym instructor now, training others, trying to become something more than the fists that made him famous.

But nothing in those neat lines prepared her for seeing him like this-taller, broader-shouldered, eyes just as sharp but touched with a deep, almost serene patience. For a moment, words failed her.

Akihiko was looking at her with concern, his voice careful, gentle. “Are you alright, miss?” The way he said it made her blink again. Miss. Did he really not remember her at all? It stung, even though she’d known him for barely a day, a few years ago. They hadn’t spoken, not really. To him, she must have been just a face in the background.

But now, he was here. And for just a moment, Kotone wondered if fate was playing with her again.

She pushed herself away from the wall, forcing her breath to slow. “Yeah,” she managed, the word coming out small and strained. “Thank you for… for helping me. I didn’t expect-” Her voice wavered. She coughed, straightened, and tried again. “Thanks for the save.”

Akihiko didn’t answer right away. His eyes, clear and sharp, swept over her with a measured, silent intensity-a quiet inventory of every bruise, every uneven breath, every sign of recent violence. He seemed to weigh her, not just for injury, but for something deeper. His presence filled the narrow alley, as if he belonged everywhere and nowhere at once. The sunlight caught faintly on the line of a scar near his eyebrow. For a heartbeat, he simply studied Kotone’s face, searching memory. Something about her gnawed at the edge of recollection.

“Have we met?” he asked finally, voice low and almost too casual, but a question unmistakably threaded beneath it. “You seem… familiar.”

Kotone’s fingers tightened in her pocket, the warmth of adrenaline fading to a cold, awkward self-consciousness. She hesitated, then slid her hand out, producing a black badge-sleek and utilitarian, the emblem of the Shadow Operatives stamped into the metal. The silver glint caught Akihiko’s attention. She held it out, chin lifting slightly in challenge.

He took the badge from her, holding it up to the faint morning light. His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thoughtful line as he traced the lettering with his thumb. “Shadow Operative?” he muttered, almost skeptical, almost amused. “Are you… playing some kind of game?”

“No,” Kotone said, the word clipped. She met his eyes without flinching, even as her heart beat a little faster. “I was sent by Yuuto Saito.”

The name hung in the air for a long, strange moment. Akihiko’s gaze dropped to the badge again, reading the name at the bottom. Recognition hit like a wave, his posture changed, a flicker of real surprise crossing his face. “Kotone Shiomi,” he said, finally matching memory to reality. “You were at that gathering-before they brought Minato back. You’re… that guess who talked to Aigis.”

Kotone nodded, allowing herself a tired half-smile. “That’s me.” She slipped her hands back into her pockets, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his scrutiny.

For a heartbeat, Akihiko just watched her, silver eyes steady, reading more than she intended to show. The silence stretched between them, filled with the aftermath of the fight and the muffled city noise beyond the alley’s mouth.

Finally, Akihiko spoke, curiosity sharpening his words. “So, what’s a Shadow Operative doing in Inaba?"

Akihiko studied her for a moment, sharp eyes narrowing, a faint but unmistakable curiosity stirring beneath the practiced calm of his expression. “Didn’t expect to run into a Shadow Operative out here in Inaba,” he said, voice even and steady, but edged with the kind of vigilance that never really leaves a fighter. “You on assignment, or is this just coincidence?”

Kotone’s lips twitched in an uneasy smile, a note of defensiveness slipping in. “I could ask you the same thing. Didn’t think I’d find Akihiko Sanada, the undefeated, hiding out in a back alley in Inaba. Don’t tell me you’re tracking Shadows here, too?”

Akihiko’s mouth curled in a small, wry smile, the edge of his earlier seriousness softening. “No, nothing like that. I just come here sometimes when I need some peace and quiet.” His gaze drifted past her, to the busy street just beyond the alley, the faintest shadow of something wistful flickering across his features. “There’s a good protein place here. And the river’s always nice. Not a lot of places like that left.”

Kotone blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. The wind tugged at her hair as she regarded him, a flicker of something close to understanding passing between them. But before she could say more, Akihiko’s eyes darted down to the bruises still visible on her arm, and his brow knit in faint disapproval.

“You look like you’re running yourself ragged,” he said, tone shifting back to the matter-of-fact. “You’re lacking in every regard-muscle, stamina, focus.” He nodded as if confirming his own assessment. “You should be drinking more protein. And you could use some real training, not just the field work they throw at you now.”

The criticism hit a sore spot, and Kotone’s eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me?” she shot back, stepping closer and, without thinking, brought her boot down lightly on the toe of his pristine white shoe. “I do train. I get plenty of protein. You think I don’t know how to make a shake? I put in a scoop of protein, add almond milk, then more protein, throw in a banana, and you know what? I add some more protein. Then half a cup of protein powder, then ice, then another scoop of protein, and only then do I even consider adding another little bit of protein on top.” She crossed her arms, daring him to contradict her, the ridiculousness of her rant slowly dawning on both of them.

Akihiko blinked, momentarily thrown by her passionate defense of her dietary habits. Then, as if realizing they’d veered off topic, they both let out breathless, awkward laughs. The tension broke, the momentary clash melting into an odd, companionable silence.

Akihiko shook his head, almost smiling. “Alright, alright. You win. That’s… definitely more protein than even I put in my shakes.” He glanced back at her, curiosity still lingering in his eyes. “But really-why are you here?"

Kotone hesitated, rolling her shoulders, feeling the fresh ache where bruises still lingered beneath her sweater. She looked down at her boots, then up at the narrow slice of sky between the rooftops. The autumn air pressed cool against her cheeks. “The Shadows in the TV world have gotten aggressive,” she said, voice quiet but edged with the weariness of truth. “It’s… worse than anything in the old files. It’s like… something new is waking up.”

Akihiko listened, his stance easy but his attention sharp. “Sounds bad,” he said, not unkindly. “Guess it was only a matter of time before Yuuto or Ken or Aigis showed up to check things out.” He paused, then added with a faint, rueful smile, “Not Sae, though. She’s pregnant with twins last I heard.”

At that, Kotone managed a laugh-small, honest, surprised. She rubbed the back of her neck, awkward, her voice going softer. “It’s… just me,” she admitted, and the words landed heavier than she meant. “Yuuto sent me alone.” There was a forced brightness to her smile as she glanced up, as if daring him to judge her.

Akihiko’s eyes narrowed, not with disapproval, but with a searching concern. “He sent you by yourself? Out here?” He crossed his arms, studying her with a scrutiny that was almost paternal-almost. “You got any backup at all?”

Kotone hesitated, then nodded, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I’m working with the Investigation Team. Yu, Naoto, all of them-they’re good. Really good.” She tried to make her tone light, but there was something else there-a weariness she couldn’t quite hide.

Akihiko didn’t answer at first. His gaze was steady, weighing her response, reading what she left unsaid. He could see the exhaustion in her posture, the bruises half-hidden by her sleeves, the restless edge behind her eyes. “You’ve been inside the TV world, then?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle but serious.

Kotone nodded, not trusting herself to speak for a moment. “Yeah. Went in yesterday. We’re going back next week… if nothing changes before then.”

For a moment, Akihiko just stood there, the breeze tugging at his sleeves. His expression grew distant, shadowed by memories he didn’t voice. When he finally spoke, his words were quiet, heavy with the weight of experience. “Be careful,” he said, his voice more command than advice. He held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then turned and walked away, his footsteps soft on the alley’s worn concrete, leaving Kotone standing in the hush that followed.

Kotone blinked a few times, watching his retreating figure. Her heart pounded, half from the adrenaline of the encounter, half from the sudden, raw awareness of how alone she truly was. This was her mission-to prove to herself and to the Shadow Operatives that she belonged, that she could shoulder the burdens of both her past and the present. But she also wondered, as Akihiko’s footsteps faded, if some help wouldn’t be too bad after all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar buzz of her phone. She fished it out with hands that still trembled faintly and saw Naoto’s name light up her screen, "Are you alright? You’ve been gone a while."

Relief and guilt mingled as Kotone thumbed her reply, "I’m fine. Got sidetracked. I’ll meet you at your place. Sorry." She sent the message, glancing once more down the empty alley, then stepped out into the sunlight, determined to keep moving forward.

But as she crossed the street, her gaze snagged on something impossible-a blue door, standing free on the sidewalk as if it had been plucked from a dream and dropped into the waking world. It was the same shade as that place in her dream, the color too rich, too deep to belong to anything mundane. Kotone stopped, heart fluttering, her mind tumbling with the memory of mirrors and endless corridors. Was she really seeing it, or was exhaustion making her hallucinate? She stared for a moment longer, waiting for the door to vanish. When it didn’t, a chill crept over her. But before curiosity could win out over caution, she shook her head, blaming lack of sleep, and hurried away, refusing to look back.
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Meanwhile, Akihiko was making his way across the quiet, early streets of Inaba, the city’s chill autumn air clinging to his suit. He walked with the easy, loose grace of a fighter, but anyone watching closely would see something else beneath the surface, a kind of restlessness, a silent vigilance that never seemed to fade, no matter how many years passed. When he reached the nondescript apartment building he sometimes used on his visits, he let himself in, pausing for a moment in the narrow entryway to draw a long, steadying breath.

The place was small, spartan but neat-exactly the way he liked it. A single living room dominated the space, decorated with little more than a battered punching bag swaying gently from the ceiling, a pair of potted plants, and a set of mini dumbbells stacked in the corner. Beyond that, a spare room contained more workout equipment-weights, mats, a rack for sparring gloves-all kept with a meticulous order that spoke to the discipline of years spent training.

Akihiko shrugged off his white suit jacket and draped it carefully over the back of the couch. He moved through the familiar ritual of his arrival: changing into a comfortable gray T-shirt and sweatpants, stretching his shoulders until the tension melted away, and finally sinking onto the old couch.

For a few moments, he just sat there, staring into the stillness of his little sanctuary, letting the city’s distant noise wash over him. Then, as he did most nights, he reached for the small wooden box on the coffee table and opened it, drawing out a handful of old photographs. The first was faded with time-him, Mitsuru, and Shinjiro together. Shinjiro’s eyes, always half-lidded with a secret smile, seemed to follow him, reminding Akihiko of everything they’d fought for and everything they’d lost.

He shuffled through the next few photos, each one a fragment of his life: a group shot of everyone during the school trip when he was a third-year, their faces bright with laughter, not yet weighed down by tragedy. There was one of Yuuto standing with the rest of them in the Kirijo mansion’s grand hall, everyone dressed to the nines, looking a bit younger, steadier, changed by years of battles and recoveries. Another, much newer, taken at Mitsuru’s wedding-a good image of Minato and Mitsuru together, her eyes shining with an emotion Akihiko rarely saw from her, Minato’s hand resting protectively over hers.

Akihiko’s gaze finally settled on the wall above his bookshelf. Hanging there, like an artifact from a world that no longer existed, was his old evoker-the gun-shaped device that once summoned the persona within him. He rose and approached it, running a thumb over the cool, worn metal. There were memories etched into every scratch, every fingerprint-of fear, of hope, of a power that had saved his life and cost him so much. It was heavier than it looked.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the events-the fight in the alley, the lost look in Kotone’s eyes, the way she’d held herself up even after the danger had passed. He couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, why Yuuto would send someone so untested, into a place like Inaba, into the jaws of the unknown. The thought gnawed at him, restless and unresolved.

With a sudden resolve, Akihiko reached for his phone, scrolling through old numbers. He knew exactly who he needed to call.
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At Iwatodai, in the warm heart of the Saito apartment, the kitchen pulsed with the kind of energy found only in families bracing for chaos. The air was fragrant with a medley of smells-savory baked salmon in one oven, oil bubbling for chicken katsu in a deep pan, and a hint of lemon zest curling above it all. Minoru, four years old and full of excitement, sat at the kitchen table with his arms folded and eyes shining, watching his father Yuuto and his older sister Reina race to finish dinner preparations.

Yuuto, tall and steady, moved with the effortless precision of someone used to juggling both knives and crises. He laid out the salmon, scattering thin slices of ginger and a careful dusting of black pepper across the glistening pink fillets. Reina, meanwhile, was practically a blur-hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, apron crooked, hands flying between the flour, eggs, and panko as she pressed each piece of chicken flat before dunking it in batter.

“Not too much soy sauce, Reina,” Yuuto called over his shoulder, voice warm but firm, “or it’ll drown the flavor. Just a little, and then the lemon-trust me.”

Reina, flushed from the heat of the stove and the pressure of responsibility, shot him a look of desperation. “Dad, how long do Mom’s pregnancy cravings last? Please tell me I’m not going to be marinating chicken for the next six months!”

Yuuto smiled wry, gentle, a little tired. “Once the twins are out, you’ll get a break,” he promised, sliding a tray of salmon into the oven. “Until then, just think of it as culinary training. It’ll pay off, you’ll see.”

Reina groaned, slumping dramatically against the counter as Minoru giggled at her misery. “You’re both evil,” she muttered, but a faint smile tugged at her lips, betraying her affection.

From the hallway, Sae's voice boomed with mock ferocity, unmistakable even over the kitchen’s din. “Yuuto! If dinner isn’t ready in five minutes, I’m taking you to court for spousal neglect!”

Yuuto grinned and called back, “Almost done, Sae! Please don’t indict the chef!” He turned, flashing Minoru a conspiratorial wink.

The four-year-old beamed up at his father, swinging his small feet under the kitchen chair, chin propped on his hands as he watched the whirlwind of dinner preparation swirl around him. The smells of crispy katsu and caramelizing salmon danced together in the air, blending with Reina’s theatrical sighs and the faint, persistent rumble of Minoru’s empty stomach.

Suddenly, a bright, shrill ring cut through the warmth and chatter. Minoru’s ears perked up first. He slid off his chair, padding across the polished kitchen floor toward the side table where his father’s phone was vibrating energetically against a stack of unopened mail. He picked it up, squinting at the glowing caller ID-just as Yuuto slid the katsu onto a plate, wiping his brow with the back of his arm.

“Minoru, could you grab that, son?” Yuuto called, already distracted by the orchestration of dinner.

Minoru nodded, his small fingers fumbling to accept the call. “Hello?” he chirped, not quite sure what grown-up voice to use, but determined to sound very important.

A moment’s pause, then a stranger’s voice-low, a little amused, and unmistakably firm-echoed through the line. “Hello? …Who is this?”

Minoru straightened his back. “This is Neo Featherman Red!” he announced, as serious as any superhero. There was a brief silence, then a chuckle that rumbled through the receiver.

“Neo Featherman Red, huh? I think I know you.” The stranger’s tone was friendly, a little playful. “Is your dad around, Neo Featherman Red? I’m looking for Yuuto Saito.”

Minoru’s brow knit in concentration. “Who are you?” he countered, wary as any vigilant defender of justice.

“Ah. Good question. I’m Akihiko-Akihiko Sanada,” the man replied, his name delivered with the faintest hint of pride and an undercurrent of gentle humor. There was a pause, as if Akihiko expected recognition, but Minoru’s mind was racing through his mental roster of heroes and allies.

Akihiko let out a quiet, knowing sigh, then added, “The mighty boxer? The undefeated champ?” He paused, trying to jog the boy’s memory. “You know-the guy who punches? Used to have red gloves? And… I might’ve shown you a few moves last time.”

That did it. Minoru’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh! You’re Dad’s boxer friend! From the wedding! The one who can eat, like, a hundred eggs!” He giggled, the tension gone, and looked over his shoulder to see his father still at the stove.

“That’s right,” Akihiko said, his voice gentling, clearly charmed by the memory. “So, is your dad there? Or maybe your mom?”

Minoru considered this. “Dad’s cooking! And Mom… she just wants to eat. She says if she doesn’t get food soon, she’ll put Dad on trial.” There was the faintest tinge of worry in his voice, Sae’s pregnancy cravings were a force of nature the whole house had learned to respect.

Akihiko’s deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Just one of them will do, kiddo.”

Minoru stared at the phone for a moment, then padded across the kitchen to tug gently at his father’s sleeve. Yuuto glanced down, hands still busy with a bowl of simmering miso. “What’s up, champ?” he asked, wiping his brow with the back of his arm.

Minoru held up the phone, little fingers curled around it like a precious treasure. “It’s your boxer friend!” he whispered with a wide, excited grin. “He wants to talk to you.”

Yuuto’s gaze flicked to the phone and caught the name, Akihiko. He blinked in surprise, then shot a glance at Reina, who was elbow-deep in flour and panko, panic etched across her face.

Reina’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re not leaving me to do this alone, are you? Dad! If you leave now, I’m going to burn something, I just know it!” She tried to keep the exasperation playful, but her voice trembled with real nerves.

Yuuto raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Hmm... didn’t you say last week that my favorite video game character is irrelevant because no one cares about a super solider protagonists anymore?” His tone was light, but his eyes sparkled with the promise of a challenge.

Reina froze, realizing she was caught. “Okay, okay, I take it back! He’s not irrelevant! He’s… iconic!” She tried to muster conviction, but her voice was weak, and Yuuto could tell she was fibbing.

He shook his head, laughter softening his features. “I taught you a lot of things, Reina. But lying’s not one of them. That’s why you’re so bad at it.” He gave her a gentle pat on the back and handed her the freshly plated katsu. “Good luck, champ. You’ve got this.” Reina’s jaw dropped, but before she could protest, Yuuto slipped out of the kitchen, Minoru giggling in his wake.

Outside, Yuuto pressed the phone to his ear, a genuine smile blooming across his face. “Akihiko. It’s been too long. How’s life treating you these days?”

A faint rustle came over the line, then Akihiko’s voice, strong as ever but touched with a subtle, rare weariness. “Hey, Yuuto. I’m alright. Life’s… life. But we need to talk. Got a minute?”

Yuuto’s brow furrowed, but his tone stayed easy. “Of course. What’s up?”

There was a pause, filled only by the distant hum of Inaba’s morning. Akihiko spoke quietly, the gravity in his tone unmistakable. “I’m in Inaba right now. Staying at one of my places. Ran into someone you know-Kotone. She had a bit of trouble.”

The line went quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Yuuto stood in the doorway, the faint sounds of his family bustling in the kitchen behind him, but his mind was suddenly a thousand miles away-back in that liminal space where memory and fear blurred together. His grip on the phone tightened. “Is she hurt?” The question was sharp, urgent. Beneath Yuuto’s calm voice, there was an edge-a mixture of anxiety and a quiet, unspoken fear that had shadowed him ever since he’d given Kotone this assignment.

Akihiko’s reply was steady, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath the words. “She’s alright. Took a scare, got herself cornered in an alley. Some punks thought she’d be an easy target, but I stepped in before anything got out of hand."

Yuuto let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thanks, Akihiko. I… appreciate it. If you hadn’t been there…” He trailed off, haunted by a dozen possibilities. He’d spent too long in this world to pretend that danger would politely wait for backup.

But Akihiko didn’t move past the subject so quickly. His voice, when it returned, was more pointed. “Yuuto, why did you send her alone?” His tone wasn’t accusing, but it held the weight of genuine concern, the sort that couldn’t be brushed off.

Yuuto hesitated. A beat of silence stretched between them-filled with everything unsaid. Then, in a low, weary voice, he answered honestly, “She asked for it. She needed it.” He stared at his reflection in the darkened glass of the hallway, his own eyes distant and searching. “Kotone… she’s been struggling. I’ve tried everything to help her-Sae and I both. Even called in favors, got Ren to train her. She’s got the drive, the skill, the potential… but it’s like there’s something inside her holding her back. She can’t break through. I worry for her-really worry. If she can’t figure this out, if she can’t stand on her own, she’s not going to last out there.”

He paused, his voice growing even softer, edged with the burden of responsibility. “Truth is, Akihiko… I was about to let her go. She overheard me talking to Minato and Mitsuru. She knew. She asked me for one more chance-to prove she belongs with the Shadow Operatives, to prove she can handle it." His voice broke with a hint of guilt. “I want to protect her. I want her to be okay. But she has to want it, too. I… I talked it over with Minato. He was alright with it."

Akihiko fell quiet, the weight of Yuuto’s words settling over him. In his small Inaba apartment, the only sound was the faint tick of the clock and the distant traffic outside. “So she’s fighting for a place to belong,” he said finally, his voice low and thoughtful. “Trying to prove to everyone else-and to herself-that she matters. That she’s someone.”

Yuuto’s answer was almost a whisper. “Yeah. She wants to be somebody."

For a moment, both men lingered in silence, understanding passing between them like an old, familiar ache. The wind rattled the thin windowpanes in Akihiko’s apartment, and in Yuuto’s home, laughter rang from the kitchen-Reina and Minoru lost in the simple comfort of family.

Yuuto cleared his throat, determined to bring himself back to the present. “Is there something else on your mind?” he asked, his tone gentler now, probing but not pushing.

There was a moment’s pause, as if Akihiko weighed every word before he spoke. “Yeah… There is, actually.” His voice was quieter than usual, colored by a rare uncertainty that seldom crept into his tone. "Kotone's got guts, Yuuto, and that’s not something you see in just anyone. But… She needs a hand. Not to take over for her, not to coddle her, but just… someone to watch her back a little. Someone who understands what it’s like to being thrown into something bigger than yourself.”

On the other end of the line, Yuuto was silent for a heartbeat. He leaned against the hallway wall, the scent of soy and ginger still drifting from the kitchen. Outside, the autumn dusk cast shadows over the city, the world feeling both close and impossibly wide.

“You’re thinking of helping her out?” Yuuto’s voice had that low, teasing warmth-the kind of challenge that masked genuine concern. “Didn’t think the legendary champ was looking to get dragged back into Shadow business. Or is it just that you couldn’t stay away after leaving the Operatives? I was starting to wonder if it was because I was gonna make too many rules for you.”

A brief, huffing laugh escaped Akihiko. “You know that’s not why I left.” There was an edge of truth beneath the banter-a quiet conviction. “You are good at what you do. I just… needed something different. Something quieter, maybe.. like everyone else.”

Yuuto smiled, though Akihiko couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I know." There was another pause-one that settled with the easy weight of years shared and storms weathered. Yuuto’s tone softened, losing the teasing edge. “Honestly, Akihiko, if you want to help… I don’t mind. Everyone needs someone watching their back sometimes.”

He hesitated, and then, with the sly candor of someone who’d spent half his life reading people, added, “Or is there something else? You interested in her, too?”

There was a muffled choking sound from Akihiko, followed by a sharp, indignant exhale. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yuuto let the silence stretch, the faintest smirk in his voice. “Hey, just saying. I’ve known you for a long time, but I never really saw you with any girls. Though Junpei did told me about that crazy girl when you were in high school... at the beach."

Akihiko groaned, a real, honest sound of mortification. “You just had to bring that up. I still wish Junpei would’ve shut his mouth about that day. He was never supposed to tell anyone. Especially not you.”

Yuuto’s laugh was soft and warm, a balm against old wounds. “Come on, it was funny. Besides, you always seemed happier in the ring than on a date.”

Akihiko shook his head, exasperated. “You’re not wrong. I’ve always been better at fighting than talking. At least Shadows don’t get offended if you say the wrong thing.” He paused, quieter now. “But… maybe one day.”

For a moment, Yuuto was silent again, the noise of his family echoing down the hallway. He thought of Kotone-her restless energy, her wounded pride, the way she fought so hard to prove she belonged, even when the world kept moving the finish line. He remembered the ache of standing alone in the aftermath of battle, desperate for something-someone-to remind you that you were more than just a weapon.

“I always thought,” Yuuto said slowly, “that you’d end up with someone who’d help you relax. Someone who’d make you want to sit still for once. Maybe that’s what you need, Akihiko. Maybe someday it’ll happen.”

In the kitchen, Sae’s voice rose-half warning, half amusement. “Yuuto! If you don’t get in here, I swear-!”

Yuuto grinned, holding the phone close. “Alright, Akihiko. I’ve gotta get going, or I’m a goner. I’ll leave Kotone to you-just try not to give her any boxing lessons unless she asks.” He hesitated and hung up before Akihiko could answer, the click of the call leaving a hush in the small Inaba apartment.
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Akihiko stood in the middle of his living room, the phone still warm in his hand. The city outside was quiet, twilight deepening into the first ink of night. He looked at the wall, at the battered evoker hanging there. Yet here he was, back on the edge of chaos, drawn by the gravity of old promises and the simple truth that some people-like Kotone-were too much like him to leave alone.

He crossed to the couch, sitting down heavily. The apartment was still, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the fridge and the distant call of crows outside. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands knotted together, and looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for something-or someone-just out of sight.

“Hey, Shinji,” he said quietly, voice thick with memory. “You know, life’s been calm lately. Quieter than I ever thought it could be. But there’s always a bit of chaos somewhere, huh? Guess you’d be laughing at me if you saw me now. Out here, trying to play the mentor, the ‘older guy who’s got it together.’ Still feels like I’m pretending half the time.”

He glanced over at the old photograph on the shelf-him, Shinjiro, Mitsuru, the whole team so much younger, so much more hopeful. “I do miss the fighting sometimes,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “The feeling of knowing exactly what you’re supposed to do, even when it hurts. I’m not a Shadow Operative anymore. But… doesn’t mean I can’t help someone who needs it.”

He leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking quietly beneath him. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to ease, replaced by the fragile hope that maybe-just maybe-he could make a difference again.

Chapter Text

10/8/2027

At Naoto’s place, the morning sunlight angled through pale curtains and traced silver lines across the polished floorboards, drawing the edges of the room into gentle relief. It was quiet, the kind of hush that falls before a storm, and Kotone sat on the edge of the guest bed, her body already tense with anticipation. She flexed her fingers, then checked the latch on her pop-up spear for the third time-a nervous ritual, equal parts habit and superstition.

A week had passed since the Investigation Team visited Tsukigase Ridge High School and uncovered the painful fragments of Kenzo’s story. The information from his teacher, Masami Ishida, had weighed on Kotone in ways she struggled to articulate-stories of bullying, silent suffering, dreams of being “somebody” that resonated too closely with the ache she carried herself. She’d apologized for her impatience, for pushing the team too hard, too fast, Yu and the others forgave her easily, but guilt lingered, curling in the pit of her stomach. Now, after days of forced rest, careful planning, and not enough sleep, the time had come, the team would re-enter the TV World, searching for something new.

Kotone pressed her thumb to the activation button on her pop-up spear, the mechanism sliding open with a satisfying click and metallic shimmer. The weapon spun in her hands-a nervous habit, a test, and a reassurance all at once-then collapsed again into its compact form. She clipped it to her belt, drew a steadying breath, and crossed to the mirror.

She paused, studying her own reflection for a long moment. The bruises were faded, but shadows lingered beneath her eyes-a week’s worth of troubled sleep, the aftermath of battle and worry and old memories clawing at the edge of her thoughts. She ran her hands through her hair, tying it back with practiced efficiency, and forced herself to square her shoulders.

She left the room, quietly padding down the hall to find Naoto already in the living room, jacket buttoned, hat settled at a sharp angle, gaze calm but alert. Naoto had always moved with a quiet confidence that Kotone envied, each gesture precise, nothing wasted. She glanced up as Kotone entered, closing her notebook and slipping it into her bag.

“Ready?” Naoto’s voice was steady-soft, but underscored with the gravity of what lay ahead.

Kotone nodded, tightening her grip on her spear. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The morning walk through Inaba was brisk, the town just stirring, sunlight glinting off dewy rooftops and the first few bicycles weaving down narrow streets. Kotone found herself watching the world slip by-an old man sweeping his stoop, a sleepy dog nosing at a fallen persimmon, the clouds swirling in slow procession above. For a fleeting moment, she looked for Sanjiro Kuroki in the crowd-hoped, oddly, to see that familiar figure, to catch a glimpse of his easy grin or hear some offhand comment about being “somebody.” He’d been a strange comfort since their conversation at Aiya, but lately, he’d vanished, leaving a faint, inexplicable absence in her days.

Maybe he was just busy, she thought, or helping someone else-he always seemed to know when and where he was needed, never lingering in one place for too long. Still, as she passed the old ramen shop and the station, she caught herself scanning faces. Just habit, she told herself.

Naoto’s steady pace beside her helped anchor the morning’s anxiety. They exchanged only a few words, but Kotone was grateful for the silence between them—a silence that didn’t demand explanation. As they turned the final corner and Yosuke’s house came into view, the weight of anticipation settled onto Kotone’s shoulders. Her hand tightened unconsciously around her spear’s grip, tucked away and out of sight, but present all the same.

They reached the familiar door, the battered welcome mat slightly askew from some hurried exit or careless entry. Kotone rapped her knuckles lightly, her nerves thrumming with old adrenaline. After a moment, the door swung open, and there was Teddie, his face bright with morning energy, Rise just behind him, hair a tangle of curls, eyes sharp with curiosity.

“Kotone!” Teddie chirped, bouncing on his toes as he took her in, his gaze flickering with concern. “Are you sure you’re all better?"

Kotone managed a small smile, comforted by his familiar enthusiasm. “I’m fine, Teddie. Promise. All patched up,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray the knot of nerves still twisting inside her. Rise flashed her a quick, supportive grin and nudged Teddie aside so Kotone and Naoto could enter.

The pair slipped off their shoes and padded down the hallway, the low hum of voices leading them to the garage where the rest of the team waited. The scent of coffee and machine oil mingled in the air, grounding Kotone in the normalcy of this strange, makeshift headquarters.

Inside, the Investigation Team clustered around the TV-Yu leaning against the wall with that quiet steadiness that always seemed to fill the room, Chie pacing restlessly, Kanji perched on a battered tool chest, Yosuke fiddling with an old extension cord, Yukiko seated serenely on a folding chair. Their faces lit up as Kotone entered, a ripple of relief and expectation running through the group.

Yukiko was the first to speak, her voice gentle. “Kotone, you look so much better. Are you really ready for this?” There was warmth in her eyes, but worry, too-a familiar thread that Kotone found herself grateful for.

Kotone nodded, her chin lifting with new resolve. “Yeah. I’m ready,” she replied, her voice a little steadier this time, bolstered by the support around her. “I think… I needed this week. I’m good to go.”

Yosuke glanced over his shoulder, managing a weak smile that didn’t quite hide his nerves. “Glad you’re here. Not gonna lie, I’m hoping today’s just a routine check. No new freaky stuff, no surprise bosses, no shadow jump scares. But honestly, who knows with this town?” He shot a look at the TV, as if daring it to cause trouble. “Still… we never really know what we’ll find, huh?”

Before anyone could answer, the sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the room. Chie startled, nearly dropping her phone. “Yosuke, were you expecting anyone?” she asked, suspicion coloring her tone.

Kanji’s eyes narrowed as he jerked a thumb at Yosuke. “Yo, you order food or somethin’? We got enough drama, man, you didn’t need to bring snacks too.”

Yosuke shot him a look, bristling with mock indignation. “Why does everyone always assume I’m the food guy? No, I didn’t order anything! I haven’t touched the phone all morning." He looked around at the group, seeking backup, but only found bemused faces.

Yukiko couldn’t help herself-a teasing glint lit her usually gentle eyes. “Maybe it’s another delivery for Teddie,” she offered sweetly. “You know, more clothes? Remember that time, Yosuke? When had to charged it to you?” She hid her smile behind her hand, recalling the chaos of their high school days.

Yosuke groaned, “Never again. Never! You two made me go broke!” He turned serious, glancing at the door, voice low. “But really, I didn’t ask anyone to show up today. Not a soul. We were supposed to be just us.”

Yu watched the group settle and looked toward the hallway, his eyes sharpening in thought. “Then who could it be?” The question hung in the air, drawing everyone’s focus to the uncertain presence on the other side of the door.

Kotone, feeling the undercurrent of tension and wanting to channel her nerves, straightened her shoulders. “I’ll get it,” she volunteered, moving briskly toward the front of the house.

Yu silently followed, his steps light but deliberate. His calm, watchful presence was a comfort at her back, an unspoken reassurance that whatever waited, she wouldn’t be facing it alone.

The house felt strangely still as they approached the door, sunlight slicing in pale lines through the frosted glass. Kotone reached for the handle and she opened the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Standing on the threshold, a crisp white jacket catching the gold morning light, was Akihiko and his presence felt larger than the doorway itself, calm and resolute, but with a trace of self-consciousness behind his easy composure.

He raised a hand, offering a polite nod. “Sorry to just show up like this,” Akihiko said, his voice as steady as always, yet softer than she remembered. “I saw you and Naoto walking over here. Thought I’d stop by. Figured it’d be easier to talk than just… well, following you all the way here.”

Behind Kotone, Yu appeared, a faint smirk curling the edge of his mouth. “So you weren’t stalking us, then?”

Akihiko shot Yu a look, the beginnings of a rare, sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Not stalking. Just… following. For a good reason,” he assured, and it was the sort of deadpan that made even Yu’s composed features twitch with amusement.

Kotone stepped aside to let Akihiko in, and as he entered, he reached into his duffel and drew something out-a battered, gun-shaped evoker, its metal dulled by age but still gleaming in the morning sun. He cradled it for a moment, gaze shadowed with memory and longing. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Akihiko said, glancing between the two of them. “I can’t lie. I do miss a part of the action. It’s not just nostalgia, though. I’m willing to help out-if you’ll have me.”

Kotone stared at him, hope and disbelief tangling across her face. “For real?” she blurted, the words tumbling out, unguarded.

Akihiko nodded, his expression gentle. “I’ve been through more than enough to know when someone needs backup. Maybe I can help you out… help you figure out what you can be. You’ve got heart. That’s something most people never learn, no matter how much they fight.”

Yu stepped forward, extending a hand-firm, the warmth genuine in his eyes. “It’s good to work with you again, Akihiko.” His voice was low, carrying the weight of old battles and trust rebuilt in fire.

Akihiko took the handshake, a steady grip, a nod of mutual respect passing between them. Then, he turned and met Kotone’s eyes, and for the first time, she noticed something she hadn’t before: his smile. It was a real, honest smile—warm, not showy. The kind that spoke of quiet pride and a willingness to stand at someone’s side, no matter what waited beyond the door.

The three of them walked into the garage, sunlight pooling in gold puddles on the concrete. As soon as Akihiko stepped inside, the entire Investigation Team seemed to freeze mid-conversation. Chie was the first to break the silence.

“Wait no way!” Chie’s voice pitched up, nearly cracking with disbelief and excitement. She practically leapt from her spot by the tool chest, eyes huge and shining. “Is that… you Master?!”

Akihiko froze mid-step, shoulders tensing with the dread of a man whose past had just sprinted up and slapped him in the face. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh so deep it sounded like it carried years of accumulated Chie related exhaustion. “Chie,” he muttered, tone clipped but not unkind, “please stop calling me that.”

Kotone, stood rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled back-days earlier, when Naoto had mentioned something in passing about Chie having a master. Kotone had assumed it was a martial arts instructor. Maybe some mysterious legendary teacher hidden atop a mountain. But this? Now it clicked sharply into place, and she nearly choked on air. This was the “master” Naoto had mentioned. Of course Chie had called him that.

Across the garage, the mood shifted at Akihiko’s arrival-a weight of memory, recognition, and surprise rippling through the Investigation Team. Chie’s face was a study in awe and embarrassment, caught between reverence and barely-contained excitement, her fists balled at her sides like a kid meeting her childhood hero. The others, less starstruck but no less unsettled, seemed to take in the ex-Shadow Operative with a mixture of respect, curiosity, and subtle wariness.

Rise was the first to recover. She cocked her head, a pink eyebrow arched, her voice bright but edged with honest confusion. “Um, sorry, but what brings you here, Akihiko?” Her gaze flickered quickly to Kotone, searching for some hidden connection, then back to the man in the doorway. “I mean, not that we don’t appreciate extra hands, but… this is a little out of the blue, even for us.”

Akihiko adjusted the strap of his gym bag, standing with the easy, balanced stance of someone always ready for trouble. His eyes glinted with a self-aware humility-he knew the impression he made, but he didn’t linger on it. “I was just passing by,” he said, voice smooth but honest, “Saw Naoto and Kotone on the street. Figured it couldn’t hurt to drop in and check on things. Besides,” he added, gaze briefly lingering on Kotone, “I’ve had a few run-ins with her before, and knowing she’s a Shadow Operative… Well, let’s just say it seemed like I should at least offer a hand.”

Yukiko stepped a bit closer, her polite mask not quite hiding her keen interest. “So, you know Kotone from before? And you’re really willing to help us-just like that?” She looked between Akihiko and Kotone, as if trying to stitch together all the invisible threads that had drawn these two together.

Akihiko shrugged, meeting Yukiko’s gaze squarely. “Yeah just like that. Sometimes you just… know when you’re needed.” There was a quiet strength in his words, the simple conviction of someone who’d seen enough to trust his own instincts. “You fight Shadows, you don’t leave people to fight alone.”

Chie finally burst in, unable to contain herself any longer. She darted forward, nearly tripping over Yosuke’s toolbox, her eyes shining. “Master, you don’t even need to ask! You’re welcome back on any team fighting Shadows! It’s just like old times, right? I mean-” She faltered, glancing around as her voice echoed a bit too loudly. “We need you, honestly. It’s been crazy lately, and, well-having a real master back in action, that’s gotta be good luck, right?”

Akihiko closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a long sigh-one that seemed to carry years of half-exasperated fondness for Chie’s boundless energy. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m making a mistake,” he muttered, but there was a subtle warmth in his voice that said otherwise.

Teddie, unable to contain himself any longer, bounced to Akihiko’s side, his round eyes sparkling with hope. “Please, Akihiko! We really could use more help-especially if you can punch Shadows as good as Chie says you can! You never know when things will get really unbearable in there.” His hands were clasped, pleading in a way only Teddie could manage.

Kotone, caught between embarrassment and relief, couldn’t help a small, genuine laugh-a sound that seemed to chase away a little of the tension lingering in the air. “I think you’re outnumbered, Akihiko. If you weren’t sure before, I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with us now.”

Akihiko relented, shaking his head but smiling-really smiling this time, the edges of his mouth curling in a rare, easy amusement. “Alright, alright. I’ll help." He looked around, taking in the team, the mismatched collection of friends, heroes, and lost souls. “Let’s just do this.”

Teddie, ecstatic, rummaged through a nearby crate and produced a pair of TV World glasses-the only problem was, these were a “special” pair, decorated with a bright red rubber nose, a wild twirling mustache, and swirling colored patterns in the lenses. He presented them with a flourish. “Here, Akihiko! You’ll need these-specially designed by yours truly!”

Akihiko took the glasses, turned them over in his hands, and managed a strangled, incredulous sound. Yukiko tried to stifle a giggle, but it burst free, blossoming into a laugh that filled the garage-gentle at first, then doubling in intensity until even Yosuke snorted and Kanji grinned despite himself.

He glanced in a dusty mirror, tried the glasses on for one mortifying second-only to see his own stern face distorted into a clown’s. He immediately yanked them off and tossed them aside with a muttered, “Teddie, give me a break. Don’t you have a normal pair?”

Yu, calm and composed, stepped up and offered a set of ordinary glasses—the same plain, functional style they all wore in the TV World. “These should fit better. Trust me, you get used to them.”

Akihiko accepted them with a grateful nod, adjusting them until they sat right. He rolled his shoulders, tested the familiar give and pull of muscle and bone, and began a few simple stretches, loosening his neck and arms. The discipline was obvious-a lifetime’s habit that didn’t fade, even when the world changed.

“Alright,” he said, voice low, ready, the weight of past battles making him feel at home. “Let’s get started.”

Yu stepped to the television, extending his hand. Instantly, the TV’s surface shimmered and began to glow, light crawling in ripples across the old screen. The Investigation Team drew close, each person instinctively settling into their roles-ready, anxious, hopeful.

Kotone felt her heartbeat quicken. She glanced sidelong at Akihiko-still half-disbelieving he was really here, with them, with her. He noticed her gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile-a rare flicker of vulnerability beneath the strength. In that moment, Kotone felt less alone than she had in weeks.

Yu pressed his palm to the TV and went in. One by one, the team began to slip through. Naoto went next, precise and efficient, then Chie, bouncing on the balls of her feet, Yosuke, grumbling but steady, Rise, offering Kotone a quick wink as she vanished into the swirling light. Kanji, Teddie, Yukiko, Akihiko-all disappeared in turn, their outlines swallowed by that TV.

Kotone lingered, her hand hovering over her spear. A sudden prickle crawled up her spine. She turned, glancing at the garage door. She thought she saw movement-a fleeting hand, pale as fog, vanishing near the front steps. For a heartbeat, the neighborhood outside Yosuke’s house was still: no footsteps, no sign of anyone watching. She pressed her palm to the door, saw nothing but wind stirring the leaves and an empty yard. Maybe it was nerves, maybe something more.

With a faint shiver, she started back inside-but just before she crossed the threshold, an unmistakable presence caught her attention. A sudden prickle on the back of her neck made Kotone pause, spear in hand, gaze scanning the empty street one last time. The autumn air felt charged, heavy with the sense that something was about to change. She shook off the feeling and returned to the garage, slipping inside the TV.

Back outside unnoticed across Yosuke’s small yard, a blue velvet door shimmered quietly into existence. It stood apart from the morning, impossibly vibrant against the faded gold of autumn grass. Theodor stepped out, his sharp uniform catching the early sunlight, eyes shadowed by deep worry. He paused, looking toward the house as if he could sense the team’s presence through the veil between worlds. His lips moved in a soft, troubled farewell, “Hope to see you soon… again.”

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the velvet door faded-leaving nothing but wind in its place.

Chapter Text

At the entrance of the TV World, a palpable tension hung in the air as the Investigation Team assembled in the mist-wreathed liminal space just beyond the glowing surface of the screen. The world here felt warped and insubstantial-colors bled into each other, shapes twisted at the periphery, and even time itself seemed to ripple and contract as though resisting their intrusion. Rise stood a little apart from the rest, the gleaming form of her Persona, Himiko, hovering behind her like an ethereal specter. She closed her eyes, reaching out with that unique sixth sense, and let the invisible threads of cognition and shadow radiate across the strange landscape. A hush fell over the team, boots crunching on broken glass as they watched her.

Rise’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Give me a sec, guys…” Her voice was soft, but it carried. Himiko’s eyes flashed, sending invisible pulses through the murk, scanning for movement, danger, and-hopefully-a path.

Nearby, Kotone took in the uneasy quiet, but her focus shifted as she spotted Akihiko a little distance away. He’d claimed a patch of cracked pavement, the faded silhouette of an old crosswalk just visible beneath his feet. Akihiko rolled his shoulders, neck muscles flexing as he worked through a series of warm-up stretches-shoulders back, fists tight, each movement fluid and efficient. His face was set, focused, his breaths measured as he threw a few quick jabs into the static-thick air.

Kotone watched him for a moment, torn between admiration and curiosity. There was something steadying about the way he moved, as if the ritual of preparation was its own kind of armor. She wandered over, hands tucked in the pockets of her borrowed jacket. “Are you just warming up,” she asked, unable to keep a faint grin from her lips, “or are you planning on punching the fog away?”

Akihiko cracked the faintest of smiles, shaking out his arms. “Always warm up before a mission,” he replied, glancing over at her with a mix of seriousness and self-deprecation. “It’s been a few years since I fought a Shadow. I’d rather not embarrass myself on my first day back. Might need a few rounds to get the rust off.”

He threw another sharp combination-jab, cross, uppercut-each one precise, honed by years of discipline. Kotone, almost in spite of herself, mimicked the motion, her stance a little awkward, her punch too tight at the wrist. Akihiko paused, watching her with the eye of a seasoned trainer. “Not bad, but you’re winding up too much. Here-” He stepped behind her, gently guiding her elbow, adjusting her feet. “You want the power to come from your whole body, not just your arms. Like this.”

He demonstrated, slow and deliberate. knees bent, core engaged, punch snapping forward in a short, explosive arc. “Try it again. This time, don’t overthink it.”

Kotone watched Akihiko’s stance, his weight evenly distributed, his shoulders relaxed but ready, the motion so precise it seemed almost effortless. She tried to mirror it-feet braced, twisting from her hips, letting the movement ripple from the ground up. This time, her punch landed sharper, the force surprising even her. Akihiko nodded with approval. “Better. The power comes from here.” He tapped her side gently, then offered a rare, encouraging smile. “You’ve got good instincts. With some training, you could hit a lot harder.”

Kotone flushed at the praise, feeling a small jolt of pride. But before she could say more, Rise’s voice cut through the fog with a sudden urgency. “Hey, guys! I’ve got something!”

Every head turned toward her. Rise’s Persona, Himiko, pulsed with faint light as Rise concentrated, eyes closed, her brow furrowed with effort.

Yu was the first to step forward, his voice steady, cutting through the lingering static of the TV World. “Where is it, Rise?”

Rise hesitated, scanning the currents of shadowy energy that radiated all around them. “It’s…this is weird. It’s right where the street would be in the real world. The same one where Officer Dojima lives. The signal’s strong, but I can’t get a clear read."

Chie’s fists clenched in excitement, boots scuffing the broken pavement. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Her eyes gleamed, the old fire burning in her expression. “If there’s another gate, we should check it out!"

The rest of the team exchanged glances-wary, resolute, all understanding what was at stake. Yu nodded. “Alright. Let’s move. We stick together. No wandering off.”

They stepped into motion, boots echoing against concrete that was at once familiar and impossibly strange. The landscape of the TV World always felt like a memory retold through fog and static, the shapes of telephone poles and storefronts shimmering at the edges, half-there, half-lost. As the group moved in a tight knot, Rise led the way, Himiko gliding silently beside her. The world pressed close around them, the mist thickening until it seemed to swallow all color and sound.

They passed the warped signs of the TV World’s version of the shopping district- twisted into unreadable kanji, banners torn and fluttering like streamers at a forgotten festival. The lights above flickered sickly yellow, their glow lost in the roiling fog. Even Yosuke, usually so quick to fill any silence with jokes, stayed quiet, his gaze darting nervously from shadow to shadow.

Kotone felt the heaviness settle on her shoulders. This place was colder, darker than she remembered from a week ago-the air prickled with the threat of something just out of sight. She tried to steady herself, clutching her spear at her side, but questions gnawed at her: who had vanished this time? Was it another lonely soul like Kenzo, desperate to be noticed by a world that looked right through them? Every step forward felt like it carried the weight of a promise, or maybe a warning.

Chie kept close to Kanji, fists clenched, every muscle tense and ready. Kanji’s eyes darted over the surroundings, jaw tight. “This still gives me the creeps,” he muttered, low enough that only Chie and Teddie could hear.

Teddie was sniffing at the air, his little bear nose twitching. He slowed, his ears drooping as he looked around with anxious, glassy eyes. “I… I have a bad feeling about this,” he said quietly, voice stripped of its usual cheer.

Yukiko glanced over, concern gentle in her voice. “What do you mean, Teddie? Is something wrong?”

Teddie’s fur seemed to bristle, his gaze troubled as he tried to put the sensation into words. “The Shadows… they smell different. It’s not like before. It feels like they’re waiting for something.” His words sent a chill through the group; even the fog seemed to tighten around them, thick as soup, every step feeling heavier.

Kanji’s voice broke the tension, low and uneasy. “What’s that supposed to mean, Teddie?” He cast a wary glance at the shadows slithering in the fog, his fists clenching, always ready for a fight but not liking this uncertainty one bit.

Before Teddie could respond, a distant, inhuman roar echoed from somewhere in the mist, making Chie jump back with a gasp. “Wh-what was that?!” she stammered, scanning the swirling greys and sickly yellows that masked every corner of the warped cityscape. Her bravado faltered, eyes wide, searching for any sign of movement.

Naoto’s hand went instinctively to her cap, blue eyes narrowing as she studied their surroundings. She pivoted slowly, sharp and methodical, but the fog only revealed more distortion-a shifting, endless veil that gave nothing away. “I don’t see anything,” she murmured, voice tight, but the tension in her posture spoke volumes.

Yosuke’s nerves were on edge, his usual chatter forgotten. “Where’d that come from?” he whispered, gripping his kunai, trying to pinpoint the direction as the echo bounced eerily from building to building.

Everyone turned, searching, breath held. Kotone’s gaze drifted upward, past flickering neon signs warped into grotesque smears, to the rooftops looming above. There, barely visible through the dense fog, was a figure-motionless, yet unmistakably human. A long scarf fluttered like a banner in a phantom wind, dark clothing blending with the shadows, hood drawn low to obscure the face. The image prickled Kotone’s memory-she’d seen this shape before, last week, after their first mission in the TV World. That haunting silhouette had vanished before she could get close.

Before she could voice her suspicion, Yu’s shout rang out, slicing through the heavy air. “On the roof!” His voice drew all eyes upward.

A shadow, massive and sinuous, crawled down the far side of a nearby building, its limbs bending in impossible angles. With a guttural snarl, it leapt from the concrete, claws flashing.

Reacting on instinct, Akihiko drew his evoker and summoned Caesar, the regal Persona bursting into being with a flash of golden armor and a crackle of electricity. “Caesar!” he called, and lightning surged through the gloom as Caesar unleashed Ziodyne. The thunderous bolt struck the shadow mid-leap, hurling it back into the fog. Akihiko glanced at his evoker and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. “Still got it,” he muttered, pride shining briefly in his eyes.

Kotone, startled by the sudden violence, glanced back to the rooftop-but the mysterious figure was gone. She blinked, uncertain if she’d imagined it, but the certainty gnawed at her. Someone was watching them. Someone real. Should she tell the team? She hesitated, worry growing in her chest. The secret felt heavy.

A gentle hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up, heart pounding, and found Akihiko at her side, his voice low but steady. “You alright?” His gaze was searching, concern softening the lines of his usually stoic face.

Kotone managed a nod. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect that,” she said, swallowing down her unease.

Before Akihiko could reply, another piercing scream split the silence. Shadows began to pour from the rooftops, writhing and hungry, their shapes monstrous and formless. Yu’s command cut through the rising panic, “Run! Move, now!”

The team burst into motion, boots pounding on fractured pavement as they fled down the twisted street. The world reeled around them-lights flickering, buildings bending, the fog pressing tighter, as if the very air wished to smother them.

Behind them, the man Kotone had glimpsed watched from his perch in the mist. His scarf trailed behind him as he stared down at the advancing Shadows. His presence radiated a quiet authority, his voice barely more than a whisper as he addressed a particularly aggressive Shadow, eyes cold and resolute. “Make sure they just run. No harm.” His words carried a weight of command.

The Shadow bared its fangs, a guttural, bone-deep snarl reverberating through the concrete canyons. For a moment, its monstrous form twisted as if in rebellion, dark tendrils reaching hungrily for the vanishing humans below. The man’s glare sharpened, and a pulse of silent threat radiated from him. He uttered a single word, “Dolus.” In an instant, the air shimmered with a cruel red light, and from the emptiness beside him, a figure coalesced tall, wreathed in a burning crimson glow, eyes gleaming with malice and intelligence.

This Dolus, moved with unnatural speed, its hands like shackles of flame as it seized the rogue Shadow, bending it down with effortless strength. The man leaned close, voice a cold whisper only the Shadows could hear. “I need them to live. All of them, for now-but truly, only one matters. Hold back. No harm must come… not yet. Wait until the time is right.” The command sank into the Shadows like a drug, making them shudder with frustration and hunger before melting back into the fog, their aggression leashed by the authority of the stranger and the promise of something darker to come.
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Meanwhile, the Investigation Team ran at full tilt through the fractured cityscape, the air thick with panic and adrenaline. Every member felt the hot breath of Shadows behind them, boots slapping the ground in desperate rhythm. The world blurred-a carousel of neon signs, warped storefronts, and glistening puddles reflecting yellowed, sickly streetlights. Every echo in the mist felt like claws just behind their heels.

Akihiko glanced back, reading the gap and the encroaching shadows. With an urgent hiss, he barked, “Turn! Down here!” He pointed toward a narrow alleyway, half-choked by debris and a collapsed awning. Without hesitation, Yu led the charge, ducking into the alley as the others followed, pressing themselves into the cold embrace of broken walls and shattered windows.

For a long, breathless minute, the group stayed frozen, hearts pounding in their ears. The Shadows thundered past, hungry forms barreling down the main street, heedless of the frightened humans cowering in the darkness. Shadows screamed and howled, but none looked back. The last one-a long-limbed thing with eyes like embers-paused at the alley’s mouth, sniffed the air, then, as if recalling an order, reluctantly moved on.

Only when the city fell quiet again did Yu and Akihiko step cautiously into the open, eyes sweeping the street for any sign of danger. The fog had closed in behind the Shadows, leaving only a trembling silence in their wake. Yu lifted his hand, a silent signal, and one by one the rest of the team emerged from the alley’s gloom.

Yosuke leaned against the wall, sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead. “Man, I am so out of shape,” he panted, voice shaky with relief and leftover terror. “If we keep this up, I’m gonna need, like, a defibrillator.” He tried for a joke, but his grin was more nervous than amused.

Rise, catching her breath, summoned Himiko with a shimmer of psychic energy. The Persona’s eyes gleamed, casting invisible threads outward, probing the gloom for any lurking danger. She let out a slow exhale, eyes still closed in concentration. “We’re clear for now,” she finally announced, her tone cautiously optimistic. “No Shadows nearby. At least, nothing’s moving.”

The team gathered themselves and pressed onward, tension lingering in their every step. The TV World’s scenery grew stranger the further they walked-buildings leaning at impossible angles, pavement stitched with glowing cracks, entire blocks melting into the void at the edges. The very air tasted wrong, as if static had a flavor, coppery, electric, impossible to ignore. Each breath felt heavier than the last, as though the world itself were aware of them and quietly disapproved of their presence.

Streetlights flickered overhead, their glow pulsing like a failing heartbeat. Shadows stretched and recoiled across the ground, bending in directions that didn’t match the light. Windows reflected warped versions of the team-faces elongated, eyes too dark, smiles lingering a second too long before snapping back to normal. Kotone kept her gaze forward, but she felt those reflections watching her, measuring her, whispering doubts she refused to listen to.

Rise slowed, fingers brushing her temple again as Himiko shimmered faintly behind her. “It’s close,” she said, voice hushed. “Really close. Whatever this is… it’s anchored here.” Her eyes lifted, focusing through the fog.

The street opened up suddenly, the buildings retreating just enough to reveal a single house standing alone at the end of the road. It was ordinary.

A modest, two-story home sat quietly beneath a flickering streetlamp, its paint a dull, lifeless gray. The front yard was small and fenced, the grass flattened as if trampled by countless invisible feet. The windows were dark, curtains drawn tight, offering no hint of life inside. If not for where they were, it could have belonged to anyone-a place passed without a second glance on a normal day.

But towering over it was a massive iron gate loomed in front of the house, its bars twisted into jagged, unnatural curves. Thick chains crisscrossed the gate, converging at a heavy lock that pulsed faintly with sickly light. The structure dwarfed the house itself, as though the gate existed to imprison something far greater than the building behind it.

The team came to a halt. “…That’s it?” Yosuke asked, disbelief creeping into his voice. “That’s what all that buildup was for? A regular house?”

Teddie tilted his head, ears drooping slightly as he stepped closer, staring up at the lock. “It feels just like last time,” he murmured. “That tight, heavy feeling… like something’s holding its breath.”

Kotone swallowed. Her chest tightened, an old, familiar pressure settling in her ribs. She knew that feeling. It was the same one she’d felt before the hospital-the sense of standing at the edge of someone else’s pain, about to step straight into it.

Teddie glanced back at her, eyes wide and uncertain. “Hey, Kotone… um… do you think if you touch it, it’ll open? Like before?” The question landed heavier than it should have.

Kotone lifted her hand slowly, staring at her palm as if it belonged to someone else. She remembered the hospital-the way the lock had responded to her touch, the way the world had seemed to recognize her somehow. The memory sent a shiver through her spine. “…I can try,” she said quietly.

She stepped forward, the hush thick around her. Even the shadows seemed to hold their breath. Kotone reached out, her fingers trembling just a little, and pressed them against the cold, luminous surface of the lock. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then a faint warmth bloomed beneath her skin—an answering pulse. The chains rattled, the light inside the lock shifting, brightening, until it flashed once, then dissolved like mist in sunlight. The chains clattered to the ground, vanishing as if they’d never existed.

Akihiko’s brow furrowed, his gaze flicking from the unlocked gate to Teddie, and then to Yu. “What did Teddie mean, ‘like last time’?” he asked, the question sharp with concern.

Yu stepped up beside Kotone, his voice calm but edged with memory. “Last week, at the hospital in the TV World… Kotone touched a lock just like this. It opened for her, but we fought a shadows... and it turned out one was missing person." He let the explanation hang, heavy in the cool air.

Kotone took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders, looking up at the silent house. “It should be easy,” she tried to reassure herself-and the team. “Just a simple place, right?” She forced a small, crooked smile. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

She stepped through the iron gate and crossed the short path to the door, boots echoing on the cracked walkway. For a moment, she paused at the threshold, feeling the weight of everyone’s hopes and anxieties at her back. “Ready?” she called, then turned the handle.

The door creaked open. What greeted them wasn’t the cramped entryway of a modest family home-it was impossible. The space inside expanded out and out, stretching into a cavernous hallway lit by flickering chandeliers. Endless corridors branched off, staircases spiraled up and down, and distant doors rattled on unseen hinges. The ceiling was lost in shadow, and the wallpaper ran in patterns that shimmered and twisted if stared at too long.

Yosuke’s shout echoed, sharp with disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! How does this even make sense? It’s huge in here-like, way bigger than the outside!” He spun around, arms flailing. “This is straight-up haunted mansion stuff!”

Yukiko’s eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping as she took in the scale. “It’s… bigger on the inside,” she whispered, awe and apprehension mingling in her voice.

Akihiko blinked a few times, rubbing his temples as if that might clear the illusion. He muttered under his breath, “I could’ve sworn I heard Yuuto mention something about things being small on the outside, big on the inside. Like a police box, or…” He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to puzzle it out.

Kotone swallowed a laugh, nerves twisting beneath her skin. She forced herself to sound braver than she felt. “Well, what could go wrong?” she said, voice light, but her grip tightened on her spear. “Let’s see what’s waiting for us.” The team filed in after her, boots echoing on impossible marble, every face etched with caution and wonder.