Persona: The Phantom Masquerade.

Taking a deep breath, Ren prepared himself for the conversation with Mitsuru. The first time they had met, her presence had been overwhelming, a quiet but unmistakable authority that demanded respect. Whether it was intentional or not, Mitsuru Kirijo had a way of making anyone feel like they were being evaluated, weighed, and measured.

Walking into the Kirijo Group headquarters, Ren was met with polite smiles from the receptionist. Security gates that would ordinarily require badges or codes swung open as he approached, and the elevator began ascending the moment he stepped inside. He half-expected someone to escort him, but no one came. Instead, the quiet hum of the elevator surrounded him as he rode upward, alone.

'Trust, or just confidence?' Ren wondered, glancing at the discreet cameras positioned in the corners of the elevator. Every inch of this building was under surveillance. Mitsuru didn't need guards when she had a constant, unblinking eye on everything.

Reaching her office, Ren knocked lightly on the polished wooden door before stepping inside. The room was as immaculate as he remembered, a balance of elegance and efficiency. Mitsuru sat at her desk, her posture composed as always. A cup of steaming tea rested near her hand, and she looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome back, Amamiya," Mitsuru greeted, her voice calm but authoritative. She gestured to a chair across from her as she reached for a second cup, pouring tea for him. "You mentioned needing my help. Is this a personal matter, or does it concern the Phantom Thieves?"

"Thieves." Ren answered with a smile as he took the seat. "It's about our target."

"Kunikazu Okumura," Mitsuru stated immediately, her expression sharpening. "The owner of Big Bang Burger. I've already had Naoto investigate him. She's reported that he's been holding frequent meetings with prominent businessmen and politicians lately. However, she's still digging deeper to uncover more about his activities."

Ren nodded, impressed but unsurprised. 

"She's good." He said, meaning it. Half of what he had prepared to tell Mitsuru was already obsolete. "But I can tell you why he's been holding those meetings. Okumura is the person you contact if you want to reach the Black Mask. I'd bet that most of the people gathering around him will suddenly find their competitors facing… unfortunate ends."

Mitsuru's frown deepened as she processed his words, her calm demeanor showing a flicker of weariness.

"So, Naoto was right. This does save us some time." She murmured, letting out a tired sigh. Her crimson eyes focused on Ren, sharp and searching. "Did you uncover this information by visiting his Palace?"

"No." Ren replied, shaking his head. "Like I mentioned last time, we're waiting for Madarame to have his change of heart before taking on another Palace. Right now, we're focused on training and preparation."

"Madarame's change of heart…" Mitsuru leaned back slightly, tapping a finger thoughtfully on the edge of her desk. "That should be happening soon if your timeline holds. Then how did you discover this information?"

Ren hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. 

"I'd prefer to keep their identities private." He said, his tone polite but firm. "But I can guarantee the information is accurate."

Mitsuru studied him for a moment before nodding, seeming to accept his discretion. 

"So be it." She answered.

Reaching into one of her desk drawers, she retrieved several stacks of paper and laid them out in neat piles on the desk. Ren couldn't help but glance at the documents. They were detailed reports on various high-ranking businessmen and politicians. While most of the profiles were of Japanese figures, a few foreign faces stood out, hinting at the international reach of Mitsuru's investigations, and by proxy, the influence of the 'Antisocial Force.'

"It's disgusting." Mitsuru said, her tone carrying a faint edge of distaste. "Some people are shameless in their willingness to use hitmen to climb the social ladder." She pulled a card from one of the stacks and placed it in front of Ren. "Recently, I've been approached to form 'partnerships' with some of these individuals. For example, I've been invited to a charity event honoring Kozo Iragashi, the former owner of Japan's largest law firm. He suffered a mental shutdown." Mitsuru's lips tightened before she continued. "Conveniently, Asa Fujimoto has since taken over."

"Oh, how lucky for her," Ren said, his voice dripping with irony as he leaned back slightly with a smile. "Are you planning to attend?"

Mitsuru smiled at the question, lifting her tea and taking a measured sip. The silence stretched for a moment, her gaze calm but carrying a flicker of something unreadable. Only after letting out a soft, satisfied sigh did she meet Ren's eyes, a glimmer of expectation in her expression

"Is that a yes?" Ren asked, somewhat unsure.

"Of course," Mitsuru replied smoothly, her smile polite but devoid of warmth. "Though, I won't be going alone. Normally, I wouldn't consider putting students in potential danger, but Naoto told me to treat you like a Phantom Thief. So I will." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes sharp. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Oh?" Ren tilted his head, feigning mild surprise though his curiosity deepened. "Well, now that's an offer I can't refuse."

Mitsuru shook her head slightly at his answer, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of her lips, as if suppressing a chuckle. After a moment, she grew serious, leaning back in her chair.

"Amamiya." She began, her tone measured. "You mentioned an intriguing skill: the ability to identify Palaces with a glance. I want you to take note of anyone at the event whose distortions seem particularly strong. If we're lucky and they've grown careless, we might uncover the person orchestrating the mental shutdowns that night. However…" She paused, her crimson eyes narrowing. "Simply knowing their identity won't be enough to bring them down. It will take far more effort than that."

Finally piecing everything together, Ren nodded. Though it also made him somewhat worried, for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

"Since you are here, I also wanted to ask you. Have you found the evokers we gave you useful?" Mitsuru asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Ren blinked, snapping back to the moment. 

"They're really something." Ren answered with a joking tone, though deep down he was being honest. "But yes, we are working on getting used to them. One of us managed to use it to succesfully activate a Theurgy. It was… unlike anything I have ever seen."

Mitsuru's expression softened slightly, her approval evident.

"Good." She said simply, standing from her seat. She walked to the window, her silhouette framed by the muted cityscape beyond. "Evokers are challenging to master. The sensation can be unsettling, but once you learn to accept it, the process becomes second nature."

"Second nature, eh?" Ren asked, standing up to look at the city next to Mitsuru. "Any tips if someone is struggling?" Mitusuru glance to her side with a raised eyebrow at his question, though Ren quickly followed it up with a classic. "It's for a friend."

Her expression softened slightly, though she said nothing at first, turning her gaze back to the city. A moment of quiet passed between them, the faint hum of the building's systems the only sound in the room. Ren waited, sensing she was weighing her answer.

"The Evoker forces you to confront a primal instinct, the fear of death. It doesn't mimic death, Amamiya; it is death. Pure, unfiltered, and absolute. For a moment, you're made to believe that you are truly dying."

Ren's smirk faltered slightly, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Yeah… that's the problem… or well, I think it is?" Ren muttered. "This friend, they don't usually struggle with jumping into life and death situations. But the moment that Evoker is pointed at their head…" 

Mitsuru continued, her eyes glancing at him for a moment before returning to the city below. 

"The trick, if it can even be called that, is not to fight it. Struggling against the sensation only amplifies it, makes it harder to endure. To master the Evoker, you have to embrace the inevitability of death. Accept that feeling, let it wash over you, and trust that you'll come out the other side."

She glanced at Ren, her expression unreadable but firm. 

"It's not about suppressing fear; it's about understanding it. Accepting that fear is part of you, and then stepping forward anyway. Death is innevitable, Amamiya. It's a lesson I have sadly been forced to learn. Yet, one that has helped me grow."

Ren leaned slightly against the window frame, his mind turning over her words. 

"Not exactly a reassuring sales pitch." He muttered with a wry smile. "But I get it. Lean into the fear, don't fight it."

Mitsuru allowed herself a faint smile at his response, though her tone remained serious. 

"If your 'friend' struggles, remind them that fear is natural. It's a survival instinct ingrained in all of us. But survival also requires adaptability. Those who can accept fear and move forward despite it… they are the ones who can truly grow." Then, she let out a final sigh as she turned around from the window.

"I'll be sure to let them know." Ren answered with a slight smile.

"Naoto will reach out to you if she needs the help of the Metaverse. But, if you ever need someone to help you with a case, don't hesitate to call her. You'd be surprised at the things she can get done."

Giving Mitsuru one final nod, Ren walked to the door.

"I will. Thanks for the information." Ren said with a genuine tone beforere a playful smile appeared on his face. "I look forward to our fancy event."

— — —

Madarame stood before his magnum opus, the canvas that had once embodied his life's ambition, now looming over him like an indictment of his sins. 

The centerpiece of the painting, a gnarled and deformed tree, seemed to twist and split under the weight of its grotesque growth, its jagged trunk a reflection of his fractured soul. Shattered mirrors scattered at the base caught the dim light of the room, each shard reflecting distorted images: warped faces and broken expressions that he could no longer deny as his own. They stared back at him, accusing and unrelenting.

Brushes with dried bristles, cracked tubes of paint, and splintered palettes were strewn across the scene depicted in the painting, remnants of a battle not fought on the canvas, but within himself. The stormy sky overhead, once a symbol of his creative defiance and raw power, now bore down on him with oppressive weight. Lightning slashed through the dark clouds, casting jagged, fleeting shadows across the room.

In the painting's corner, a shadowy figure stood, its back turned against the storm. Was it meant to be a defiant figure challenging the chaos, or a defeated soul consumed by it? He couldn't remember anymore.

There was no triumph in the work. The dark tones, once awe-inspiring, now suffocated him. His chest tightened as he stared, not at the masterpiece of a genius, but at the hollow monument of his selfishness and greed. It wasn't art, it was a mausoleum for stolen dreams, a prison for the spirits of those he had wronged.

"Yusuke…" Madarame whispered, his voice barely audible as he turned his gaze away from the painting. All around him were recreations of Yusuke's destroyed works, painstakingly replicated in his own hand. He had hoped to present them to Yusuke as an apology, a gesture of reconciliation. Yet, as he looked at them now, he saw the futility of his actions.

'How selfish am I?' He thought bitterly. 'Apologizing for stealing his art… by stealing his art again.'

His hand trembled as he reached for the nearest canvas, his fingers brushing over the painted surface. 

"Don't worry, Yusuke." He muttered to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. "I will make this right."

Gripping a palette knife, Madarame turned back to his magnum opus. He stared at it for a long moment, his eyes tracing every detail of the work he had once cherished. Then, with a defeated sigh, he slashed through the canvas with all the strength he could muster.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the room, raw and visceral. Again and again, he drove the blade through the painting, tearing it apart piece by piece. Each stroke felt like a blade against his own heart, but he didn't stop. By the time he was finished, his masterpiece, ironically named 'Regret,' was nothing more than shredded fabric and ruined paint.

He stood before the wreckage, chest heaving. The destruction brought pain, but it was only a fraction of what Yusuke must have felt when Madarame had stolen his life's work so carelessly. It had always been his dream to create a painting on the same caliber as the Sayuri, and when he had finally achieved it, he had stolen it.

Moving through the cluttered, decrepit shack, Madarame made his way to the safe room where he stored countless replications of the Sayuri. His footsteps echoed hollowly against the floor, each one a reminder of how empty his legacy truly was. Standing before the rows of paintings, he clenched the palette knife tighter.

"I'm sorry, Sayuri." He whispered, his voice trembling. His eyes lingered on one of the paintings, the serene figure gazing back at him with an expression he could only interpret as sorrowful. "I should have taken better care of him. I should have been better."

Raising the knife, he drove it through the painting. The canvas split with a sharp sound, the once-pristine image marred by jagged tears. He destroyed one Sayuri, then another, and another. Hours passed as he worked, each stroke of the blade a futile apology, each ruined painting a reminder of the damage he could never undo.

When the final canvas fell, Madarame collapsed onto the floor, his back against the wall. The room was a chaotic mess of shredded paintings, spilled paint, and broken frames. The air smelled of linseed oil and failure. His chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at the destruction surrounding him.

"Is this enough, Yusuke?" He murmured, his voice barely audible. He shook his head, answering himself. "No… there's one more thing I need to do."

Reaching for his phone with trembling hands, Madarame scrolled through his contacts. He found the names of the same journalists he had once used to announce Humanity to the world. Now, he would use them for a different purpose.

He dialed the first number, his resolve hardening as the line connected. 

"This is Ichiryusai Madarame." He said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "I have a story to tell you… about my crimes."

— — —

Inside the cozy, clean space of Ren's room above Leblanc, the air hummed with the quiet chaos of its inhabitants. Mona sat on the floor, his tail swishing in annoyance as he watched Futaba, sprawled across Ren's bed, furiously mashing buttons on a game controller.

"Damn it, this stupid boss has too many phases!" Futaba growled, flopping dramatically onto her side as the screen displayed another Game Over. She let out an exasperated sigh before reaching over to ruffle Mona's fur with a mischievous grin.

"Hey! Watch it!" Mona protested, darting back a step, his blue eyes narrowing. Before he could make a clean getaway, Futaba's hand shot out, snatching him up with practiced ease.

"Nope! While Ren's away, you are my emotional support human." Futaba declared, holding him tightly. "Besides, didn't you promise Ren you'd help me? You'd be lying if you ran away now!" She punctuated her words by tugging lightly on Mona's cheeks.

"That was supposed to be in the Metaverse!" Mona snapped, wiggling in her grip. Despite his protests, he was careful not to use his claws, though his twitching tail betrayed his irritation.

As the two bickered, Yusuke sat on the couch, a sketchpad balanced on his knee. His pencil moved idly over the page, his hand drawing even as his mind wandered elsewhere. He had come here hoping to speak with Ren, his muse, his source of inspiration, but Ren wasn't home. Instead, he had found Futaba and Mona engaging in their usual antics, and now he was left waiting, sketching aimlessly to fill the time.

Or at least, trying to.

The lines on his page lacked the energy, the vibrancy he once wielded with ease. His strokes felt heavy, his composition uninspired. Even this simple sketch, a caricature of Mona's increasingly annoyed expression as Futaba held him aloft, was taking more effort than he would have liked. Frustration nipped at the edges of his thoughts, but he pushed it aside, forcing himself to focus.

"Wait, wait! I got it! Star Destroyer Mona!" Futaba exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She held Mona out at arm's length as if showcasing him to an adoring crowd, then spun him around in a playful flourish. "We should make an animation of you turning into a giant space monster! Imagine that! Why be a cat when you can be a weapon of mass destruction?"

Mona groaned, his ears flattening as his tail lashed back and forth. 

"As much as I enjoy becoming stronger… I don't want to turn into a monster." Mona growled.

Futaba didn't even acknowledge his protest. Her enthusiasm had already carried her to the next step in her plan. Then, as if suddenly remembering Yusuke's presence in the room, she turned to him, her expression slightly sheepish.

"Hey, um… dude." She said, pausing awkwardly, still holding Mona aloft. She'd spent more time lately working with Takemi and Makoto, helping out with research at the clinic. That experience, and Takemi's demeanor, had encouraged Futaba to step out of her shell, though she still hesitated from time to time. "You think you could draw him?"

"Hmm?" Yusuke blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He adjusted his grip on his pencil. "I already am."

He turned his sketchbook around, revealing the beginnings of a sketch that captured Mona mid-spin, his face a perfect portrait of irritation. Futaba frowned at it, clearly unimpressed.

"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, her tone brimming with exasperation. "Not that. I mean Star Destroyer Mona! Imagine the lasers, the explosions, the drama!" She punctuated her vision with wild gestures, her hands painting an invisible picture in the air.

Without waiting for his response, she tossed Mona unceremoniously onto the bed and grabbed her handheld console. 

"Like this!" She said, holding up the screen to show him a boss fight in progress, featuring a towering, multi-phase monstrosity with glowing eyes and countless weapons.

Yusuke raised an eyebrow at the display, his gaze shifting between the screen and Mona, who had taken refuge on a nearby shelf. Tucked between a few potted flowers, he was grooming himself with deliberate disdain, clearly pretending none of this was happening. A faint smile tugged at Yusuke's lips.

"I suppose I could attempt it." Yusuke muttered, turning to a fresh page in his sketchbook. He tapped his pencil lightly against the blank paper, glancing at Futaba, who had already flopped back onto the bed and resumed her game.

Though, when he brought his pencil down and looked back up at Mona, he couldn't help but let out a faint smile. Glancing back to Futaba, who had picked up her console once again before jumping on the bed he took a moment before finally starting to draw.

"I will take inspiration from your persona." He announced, the faint glimmer of inspiration sparking to life within him. "I shall turn Mona into an eldritch abomination."

"Eldritch?!" Mona snapped, peering out from his hiding spot. "I am not eldritch!"

Futaba cackled from her perch on the bed, clearly delighted.

"Yes! Eldritch Mona! Give him, like, a hundred glowing eyes and tentacles that shoot lasers!" Futaba shouted, clearly distracted by her game, though her words did spark some inspiration in Yuske.

However fleeting it may have been, since his painting had been stolen, he felt the urge to draw.

~ Confidants ~

Mitsuru Kirijo. (The Devil) Rank 2