Chapter Text
It all started because Yusuke Kitagawa was hungry.
This was, in and of itself, not unusual. As a devotee of the fine arts, Yusuke had long since accepted that the term ‘starving artist’ was very often literal. His sensei, the great Ichisaya Madarame, had only ever reinforced that fact with his humble teachings. His atelier was a place of pure creation, a blank canvas on which the very soul could be put to the brush. Such things as food, or heating, or functional indoor plumbing, those were all secondary to him. And it was with that profound dedication to his craft that he had become such a maestro of Japanese arts.
That’s what he had said, in any case.
In any case, if Yusuke was ever to follow in his footsteps he had long since made himself understand that he would need to forgo such vanities as three meals a day. It was all for the pursuit of true, unblemished beauty after all.
But it meant that, yes, he was hungry.
“A canvas of desire, hm…” Yusuke lifted his hands in front of his face, framing the sky above as he stood just outside the front gate of Kosei. There was a cloud there, in the center of the frame. To the average eye, the lumpy mass would be little more than a splotch on the sky. To the artist, to the starving artist though, it’s form was clear as day. “I see… hamburger…”
“Kitagawa?” A brown-haired girl with a pink ribbon in her hair blinked at Yusuke as she stepped out of the front gate and found him standing in her way. “…are you alright?”
“Ah, Oohashi.” Yusuke blinked away his fantasy, turning to face the girl. “I apologize, I was considering-”
“Hamburgers. Yeah, I heard.” Oohashi frowned at him, glancing around a moment before putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him aside and away from the front gate. “Are you eating okay?”
“You’ve asked this question before.” Yusuke closed his eyes sighing ever so slightly. “As I’ve said, I’m fine. I had a hardy breakfast of seaweed this morning.”
“Seaweed?” Oohashi’s look of bewilderment could be imagined quite vividly, even with Yusuke’s eyes closed. “How much seaweed?”
“I believe it was a square or so.” Yusuke nodded. “I’ll admit, I was distracted by the colour of it…”
“A square or-“ Oohashi facepalmed, the sound loud enough to nearly echo down the street. “Okay, look. One square of seaweed is not enough food for you.”
“My sensei says it’s an inspiring process.” Yusuke tilted his head to the side, now inevitably rotating that square of seaweed in his mind. It really was quite the color… “It encourages us to look for art in everything.”
“It also means you could get blown over by a stiff wind.” Oohashi groaned. “What are you going to do, paint a hamburger?”
“A painting, of a hamburger?” Yusuke hummed, blinking his eyes back open and looking back up at the cloud. Perhaps it was just his hunger at the moment, but… “Yes, yes I could see that. A delicious hamburger, put to canvas and-“
“Oh my God, visual artists.” Oohashi clapped her hands, bringing Yusuke’s attention back to the girl as she shook her head at him. “Look, it’s not a hamburger, but let me at least buy you a beef bowl or something? I can’t stand watching you go hungry like this.”
“Your offer is far too kind.” Yusuke felt a swell of emotion in his heart at the girl’s offer. It was a gift, an act of charity pure and good. Girls like Oohashi, they were what gave him hope for the future in their own way. With that said… “But I’m needed back soon by my sensei. I’d only stopped for a moment to think.”
“You live in Shibuya, right? Uguisudanicho?” Oohashi rolled her eyes. “I do too. There’s a neighborhood place there, in and out. It’s barely an inconvenience.”
“If you insist, I must oblige.” Yusuke bowed his head, struggling for a moment not to teeter over from the sudden headrush that came with it. “Thank you dearly, from the bottom of my heart.”
“It’s not a big de- hey, don’t fall over!” Oohashi reached a hand out, steadying Yusuke before he could fall. “Wow.”
“Thank you again.” Yusuke cleared his throat, standing upright. “We should go now. I find it easier to stay steady while in motion.”
“That’s…” Oohashi winced as Yusuke began to walk toward the nearby subway station, sucking in careful breaths as he did to moderate his energy usage. “Really not a good thing…”
---
“I had never even heard of this place.” Yusuke’s eyes were wide as he stared at the menu at the little shop Oohashi had led him to, fighting desperately not to drool at the mere smell of what must have been made in the kitchen. “It’s only a block or so from the atelier, and yet…”
“I don’t think any of you boys from the atelier ever come here.” Oohashi shook her head, digging around in her wallet for some yen. “It’s a pretty popular spot, but I’ve never seen anybody from there stop by. It’s always between that shack and the train station.”
“I suppose we’re all too entrenched in the dedication to our craft.” Yusuke leaned against the counter as Oohashi ordered something. He didn’t hear what. It didn’t matter, whatever it was would most certainly be the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. “Our sensei is demanding, but fair.”
“Right. Fair. Is that why I keep seeing less and less of you guys around the neighborhood?” Oohashi frowned as she took a seat, blinking at Yusuke as his face twisted into a mask of anger. “Whoah. Touchy subject?”
“Ichiryusai Madarame is an unparalleled artist, who has given me more than I ever could have asked for! His tutelage is the greatest gift I could have known, and anyone to turn away from his teachings is a simple traitor, nothing more! I…” Yusuke trailed off as Oohashi shrunk away from his rage, flinching as he stumbled against the counter. It felt like a stab to the heart then, seeing someone who was being so kind to him recoil in fear. “I… I apologize. Profoundly. You’re doing me a kindness, and I’ve all but spat in your face for it. I won’t make any excuses, I’ll go.”
“The food’s already paid for…” Oohashi’s voice was small as she remained shrunk up and distant. “You might as well eat it.”
“No, I…” Yusuke’s protest died the moment the bowls of food were passed over the counter, any protest disintegrating at the smell of sweet pork and onions. “I…”
What happened next was a blur, plain and simple. Vaguely he remembered issuing some further apology to the poor girl beside him, before the aroma of the food became too much to bear and he tore into the meal like a starving dog. Had he more control over his dignity at the moment, he would have had been forced to dig himself the deepest darkest hole possible for his own shame. Instead he simply ate and ate and ate, until there wasn’t a scrap left in the bowl and his stomach felt no fuller than before.
Just another of life’s many cruelties, it would seem.
“L-look, I’m just saying…” Oohashi winced, pushing around the food in her half-eaten bowl. “If a half-decent meal is enough to make you react like that… it might not be the best place for you.”
“It-“ Yusuke almost launched into another impassioned defense of his sensei, but the combination of the meal settling into his stomach and the reminder of Oohashi’s cringing face gave him pause. He took a deep breath, tilting his head back towards the ceiling. “I understand how it may seem that way. There are many before who have taken to criticizing his way of teaching. And I’ll admit that some of them may have… merit.”
Yusuke paused then, his focus shifting to the horizon. To that gallery exhibit so long ago, and the piece on the wall up in light. To the pride he felt seeing it there, knowing that something he made could stand so tall on its own, to earn the beauty of the spot it commanded.
To the darkness inside, at seeing whose name was attached to it.
“Then why stay?” Oohashi seemed encouraged by Yusuke’s hesitancy, dragging him right back to the present. “If he’s a bad teacher, then you shouldn’t bother with him. Your scholarship to Sosei’s your own, right? Ditch him!”
“It’s not so simple as that. He’s raised me since I was a child, after all. And… actually it would be best to show you.” Yusuke shook his head, pulling his phone out and tapping at the cracked screen. A poor canvas for what he was about to show her, but it would have to do. He scrolled past the strange rainbow eyeball app that Madarame must have installed when he requested Yusuke’s phone last, and opened up the gallery to its most precious folder. And there it was, as ever. The painting that defined his life, and his love for the craft. “This, is the Sayuri.”
“The Sayuri?” Oohashi blinked at the woman’s placid face as Yusuke turned his phone for her to see. “It’s… a painting?”
“A masterpiece. My sensei’s finest work.” Yusuke nodded, proud in a way of the reverence carried in his voice. “When I first saw this piece, it took my breath away. The woman within, she is… perfection, wouldn’t you say?”
“Uh…” Oohashi furrowed her brow at the painting. “It’s a nice painting?”
“Yes, it is.” Yusuke hummed, happy that he could get that at least. “Sometimes, when I am in my darkest moments, I imagine myself as its subject. Her poise, her serenity, it truly changes the way I see the world.”
“I don’t- I really don’t think I’m the right person to unpack that.” Oohashi shook her head. “But, really, he made one good painting and that means he gets to abuse you?”
“He has earned my trust. And he is my sensei.” Yusuke bowed his head. “It would be wrong to turn my back on him, under any circumstance.”
“I’m sorry, but ‘Ichiryusai Madarame: Trustworthy’ doesn’t mean much to me when so many of his students have said the same sorta things about him once they leave.” Oohashi frowned down at her food, tapping her fingers against the table. “And not just the food! He makes you live in a shack. I’ve never seen any of your guys’ works in any museums or anything. And, the plagiarism accusations? Those are-“
“Enough.” Yusuke stood, a wave of nausea washing over him as the background chatter of the restaurant seemed to fade to a silent nothingness. “Oohashi, thank you again for the meal. But please, don’t speak on matters you have no understanding of. Good day to you.”
“I just wanted to-“ Oohashi bunched her fist, sighing as she just stared down at the bowl in front of her. “…bye.”
Yusuke paused at the doorway, staring at his feet. A part of him wanted to turn back, to throw it all away and pursue those traitorous thoughts that so burned at his soul. That feeling inside him that screamed when his sensei took another one of his works as his own, that curled whenever he repeated the lessons that had been so taught, that reached longingly for a connection he could never understand inside the Sayuri, a conflicting dance of pride, jealousy, and yearning all at once that drew him so deeply to the woman within.
But Yusuke Kitagawa wasn’t ready for that.
In a sense, Yusuke Kitagawa would never be.
He bit his lip and turned towards home, his eyes still stuck on the pavement of the sidewalk and daring not to look up to the world beyond; not knowing then that it had been bathed in overlapping shades of darkness and light that promised a future beyond what he ever could have dreamed.
That was fine.
He’d see it soon enough.
---
It wasn’t until Yusuke turned the corner towards Madarame’s atelier and began to hear the sound of chattering voices that he chanced to raise his head and witness the change that had come over his humble home.
Or rather, not his humble home. As in place of Madarame’s modest atelier, there was a monumental museum standing in its place, decked out in pure gold and illuminated by countless spotlights.
“What in the-“ Yusuke froze, his eyes widening at the sight of the structure and the crowd of shadowy faced people lined up outside it. “Did… I happen to make a wrong turn, or…”
“Aren’t you excited for the exhibit?”
“Oh, I already know it will be just wonderful!”
“He’s so talented… it’s all him!”
The shadowy patrons’ voices seemed to claw at Yusuke’s ears as he walked past the velvet rope keeping them in line, his eyes already set on a strange hulking man in a guard’s uniform who stood by the entranceway with some sort of novelty pink mask over his face. The mere sight of him filled Yusuke with a sense of unease, but considering the building seemed to be hosting some sort of display for his sensei without Yusuke having heard a word about it, his curiosity outweighed any hesitation.
“Excuse me.” Yusuke cleared his throat, trying to find the man’s eyes behind his mask. He found nothing, only strange inky darkness staring back at him. “Would you happen to know where-“
“You’re not supposed to be out here.” The masked man grabbed hold of Yusuke’s arm, ignoring the yelp that escaped his lips at the man’s crushing grip. “Servants of Lord Madarame should be working at all times.”
“Servants of- unhand me!” Yusuke stumbled as the guard turned and began to drag him into the building as the shadowy line of patrons continued to just watch. “What are you doing, what is the meaning of-“
“Quiet, you.” The guard smacked Yusuke in the head, the world blurring as he suddenly felt his feet fall out from under him. The guard didn’t seem to care, however, dragging him through blurry hallways until he stopped in front of an old wooden doorway. He all but threw Yusuke inside, closing the door behind him with a humph. “There. Now, be a good servant and stay.”
“I am no one’s servant.”
…who… who said that?
“…”
“I must be losing my mind.” Yusuke chuckled to himself as he stumbled back to his feet, staring around at the room he had found himself in. It was a cramped closet, only barely bigger than his bedroom back in the atelier, occupied only by a single worn easel and a half-stained canvas. “Yes, that’s it… madness, it must be!”
There was no response to his declaration. None at all. Just silence, and the flickering light embedded in the ceiling that gave this place a shine. Yusuke almost keeled right back over then, the pounding in his skull and the madness in his surroundings all but sending him spiraling.
All but.
Instead, the boy simply leaned against the wall and laughed, allowing for a moment to let the madness take him. There was no sense in it. No sense at all. And yet here he was nonetheless, somehow. Taken prisoner by a man claiming to serve his sensei, who had locked him away-
Hold on. Had he even locked the door?
Yusuke moved away from the wall, placing his hand against the door and pushing. It gave, opening just a smidgeon as Yusuke could only blink. It was clear that the guard had wanted to keep him prisoner, what other purpose would there be to what his actions. And yet he hadn’t locked the door?
A part of Yusuke told him to simply obey. It was the wise thing to do, after all. An instruction given by a man capable of quite honestly tearing him in half was a command worth following. He had endured as long as he had by not rocking the boat, why should that change now?
Well, the answers to that were quite simple.
Before now he hadn’t been dragged into a giant, glimmering museum that seemed to defy all logic of size and scale. And perhaps, just perhaps, something about his conversation with Oohashi had stuck itself somewhere in his mind that made it feel wrong to just listen this time.
Either reason could have meant something. In this moment, however, it didn’t particularly matter.
Yusuke poked his head out of the door, scanning the space beyond. It was a typical gallery hallway, lined on either side by paintings depicting various abstract scenes. There was no sign of the guard, or anyone at all for that matter. Just an empty hallway lined with paintings, each of which was…
Wait.
“This is… this is Shizakaya’s work.” Yusuke blanched as he inspected the paintings closer. “And that, that’s- Nakanohara’s! How did-“
Yusuke’s question died on his lips as he caught sight of one particular piece. There it was, hanging just the same as it had been on that fateful day. Yusuke’s first real piece, his first foray into the world of art, bared for the world to see under a name that wasn’t his own.
‘Ichiryusai Madarame’
All of them, said Madarame.
Just as they always had.
Yusuke’s fist clenched at his side. The anger he had felt that day once suppressed by the consolation of his technical achievement came flooding back, a quiet rage that burned somewhere between his head and his heart. It was his work. His sacrifice. And sensei had taken it for himself. He always had. He always would.
He knew what the man would say. That growth takes progress, that in the art world master and student were as one. All the same old things, in the same old way. Normally, it would be enough to allow Yusuke another excuse.
Not today.
“This…” Yusuke bunched up his fists, stepping towards the canvas. “This is…”
He didn’t know what it was exactly, only that it was. Unfair, unjust, his, anything at all. It was true in that moment specifically. Had he been given another, he would have torn the canvas from the wall and reclaimed it as his own, whatever that would end up meaning.
Instead, he was interrupted by the sound of a woman screaming, followed by an uproarious laugh.
And for all his flaws, for all the things that made him blind to the truth and quick to anger, Yusuke Kitagawa did have one redeeming trait at the very least.
Whatever was going on, he wouldn’t stand for it.
---
What Yusuke found in the foyer of the building was a sight that defied all logic. And that was saying something for a building such as this. The pink-masked guard was holding a girl in a Kosei school uniform in his grasp, his eyes still dead as Oohashi thrashed against him. Across the entranceway, Yusuke’s sensei stood in the golden attire of a shogun, a smile on his face as he stroked his beard at the sight of the girl.
“Thieves are most certainly getting feistier these days.” Madarame laughed, his golden eyes shimmering as he appraised the girl. “Did you really think you could sneak in here?”
“Let go of me!” Oohashi kicked at the man restraining her, her eyes alight in indignant anger as she squirmed this way and that. “I wasn’t sneaking in, I was just looking around!”
“Really? I see no invitation.” Madarame chuckled, walking towards the girl. “And if there’s one thing I hate more than a thief, it’s a liar.”
“S-sensei?” Yusuke blanched, staring at the scene before him with wide eyes. “What are you… what’s going on here?”
“Ah, Yusuke. You’ve left your room again I see.” Madarame hummed, turning his attention toward the boy as Yusuke hesitantly approached his sensei. “And here I thought my guard had instructed you to stay? Have you finally turned against me then my boy?”
“No, I-“ Yusuke swallowed, unsure of what to make of it. Of anything. The whole thing was artistically expansive. That is to say, absolutely unfathomably insane. “I don’t understand what’s happening sensei. Please, if you would explain-“
“Bah! Everyone always wants an explanation! That’s the problem with art you know, nobody will ever just let it be. The amount of time I have to spend writing speeches and explanations for your pieces… absurd!” Madarame laughed, before turning away and back towards the interior of the museum. “Now then, back to your room. I’ll need a fresh painting by tomorrow, am I understood? There’s an exhibition coming up soon that we can’t miss, my boy.”
“I…” Yusuke stuttered, unsure and uncapable of how to respond to that. “I…”
“Hey, what about me?” Oohashi grunted, staring at the man. “You can’t just keep me here, I don’t belong!”
“Oh yes, of course.” Madarame spared the girl one singular glance before simply shrugging. “Kill the thief and be done with it.”
“Wait, what?” Oohashi’s eyes suddenly went wide with terror as the guard seized her throat in his hand. “Gkh-“
“Wait, sensei, wait!” Yusuke lunged forward, grabbing his sensei’s sleeve before he could leave. “There must be a misunderstanding, you can’t-“
“Yusuke.” Madarame turned to look at Yusuke, his eyes cold and gold. Yusuke’s hand fell away, but by then it was too late. The mad shogun turned, looking his apprentice in the eye. “What have I said about disobeying me, hm?”
“I- but sensei…” Yusuke took a step back, his eyes wild as he looked between Madarame and the quickly weakening efforts of Oohashi to pry the guard’s hand away. “I didn’t mean it- I didn’t-“
“Oh that’s what they all say. But you’ll betray me too Yusuke, won’t you? For a common thief?” Madarame scoffed, raising a hand. The guard released Oohashi, allowing her to fall to her knees gasping for breath. “Tell me you wouldn’t. Tell me you wouldn’t turn your back on your poor, ailing sensei.”
“Never. I would never.” Yusuke shook his head emphatically. “But this…”
“This is the cost my dear boy. And as much as I’d love to trust your word, your actions today have worried me that you’re just like the rest.” Madarame frowned, shaking his head in mock sadness. “Just another traitor, who turns his back on the one man who’s given you everything. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“No, sensei-“ Yusuke bowed his head, ashamed. “I would never.”
“Oh, what a relief. Thank you, Yusuke. All I need from you now, is to prove it.” Madarame cooed, a wicked smile on his face as he nodded towards Oohashi. “Kill her.”
“Sensei, I…” Yusuke’s heart shattered then. Into a thousand pieces. Hearing those words from his sensei, the man he was meant to trust most in the world, it… it… “I can’t do that.”
“Really, is that so? Such a shame. You’ll just have to meet the same fate then.” Madarame sighed, turning around and snapping his fingers. More guards emerged from the shadows, batons and blunt instruments in hand as they closed around the pair. “Kill them both.”
“No, sensei!” Yusuke tried to chase after his teacher, only to find the way blocked by a pair of identical hulking guards. “Sensei, no… no, this can’t be!”
“What-“ Oohashi stumbled to her feet, moving to stand back to back with Yusuke as the guards closed tighter around him. “What do we do?”
“I…” Yusuke’s heart was ablaze as he looked around, the odds hopelessly stacked against them. They were just two high school students against… against creatures so imposing and severe they could never be human. What were they supposed to do? How were they supposed to fight back? “It’s hopeless…”
“I don’t do hopeless!” Oohashi shook her head, her voice still shaky from the attempted strangling. “So… think of something quick!”
“I can’t think. I’m sorry. I can only feel... feel…” Yusuke clenched his fist, the fire inside him burning brighter as he shook his head and let forth the true feeling of his heart. “Anger. Rage! My sensei has betrayed me for the last time, and now… now…”
“Now we have a chance to decide our own path.”
Yusuke’s skull felt like it split open in that instant, a soothing female voice echoing through his head as he stumbled. The world began to flicker, blue flames licking at his fingers as he could only stare.
“Your destiny was marked out before you. A pitiful part in someone else’s game. But now you see limits placed upon you. Will you allow them to stand, knowing that their existence means certain death?”
“No… I won’t!” Yusuke yelled as he felt a piece of burning metal mold to his face, a mask to hold his soul beneath as he reached up to pull against it. “I won’t blind myself to the truth of what’s been done to me any longer!”
“Good. You’re ready then, samurai. I am thou, thou art I. March forward to the world you make your own, and together we shall cut a path!”
“I am with you!” Yusuke planted his feet, a burst of crimson blood staining the museum floor as he ripped free his mask. “Bring forth the fight, Sasaki Rui!”
A woman composed of waving banners rose from within Yusuke’s soul, her arms tipped in burning blades as Yusuke’s grip went to his own sword suddenly tied to his back. The two struck forward as one, an inferno of fire consuming the guards in an instant as Yusuke screamed and Oohashi could only watch in astonishment.
“What was-“ Oohashi struggled with her words, looking between Yusuke and the dissolving guards as Sasaki Rui returned to his soul and the world became little more than the two of them. “What was that?”
“Honestly, to tell you the truth I…” Yusuke blinked. “I’m not quite su-“
And Yusuke fell to the ground, unconscious.
---
“Finally.” A woman’s voice startled Yusuke awake, a cold chill passing down his spine as his eyes fluttered open. “It took you long enough to get here.”
“Where-“ Yusuke’s mouth felt dry as he sat up, the worn canvas bed beneath him creaking as he looked around. Fog swirled through the corners of an ancient atelier, the old paper panels lining the walls ripped and torn by wear and by tear. A half dozen easels stood at the center of the room, three to each side and facing towards one another like some sort of corridor. At one end, Yusuke. At the other, a hunched over woman with ragged white hair, her face concealed in darkness. Yusuke could only stare, entranced at once by the peculiarity of the situation… and the strange beauty of the woman. “Who are you?”
“My name is unimportant. Call me the Paintress, if you must.” The Paintress tilted her head upwards, fog swirling across her face to conceal her expression. “And you, my muse, have an important task ahead of you.”
“A task?” Yusuke pulled himself to his feet, stumbling ever so slightly as his eyes darted around at the canvases. “Would this have anything to do with that strange museum, and my sensei, and Sasaki Rui?”
“It would.” The Paintress snapped her fingers, and an impression of Sasaki Rui in her full glory appeared on the canvas closest to Yusuke, appearing in rapid obscure strokes as if painted by the fog itself. “Sasaki Rui is the first Persona that will help you accomplish this task of yours, but as you can see I have left room for more. From this point forward, this Fogbound Atelier is at your disposal so long as you can use it.”
“You would have me paint more Personae?” Yusuke placed a hand against Sasaki Rui’s canvas, feeling a faint hum from within the paint itself. Her presence settled in his mind, a comforting weight near the back that nonetheless sparked a boldness within. He turned to the Paintress, furrowing his brow concertedly. “But that isn’t your full task is, is it?”
“Astute. Already doing better than my last muse.” The Paintress chuckled, looking to the side. “There is a god here in Tokyo, playing a game. A game I have already played. And yet in spite of my wisdom he has chosen to ignore me and play it regardless. I would have you punish him for that.”
“Punishment? To what end?” Yusuke instinctively reached for where that blade had manifested within the museum, a chill running down his spine at the Paintress’ words. “What would you have me do in your name?”
“Calm down, girl.” The Paintress sighed, her words almost knocking Yusuke straight off his feet. “The truth is, I don’t care much for what you do with this power. Steal hearts, kill others, simply sit back and watch. Do whatever suits you best. That is the joy of creation, is it not? By merely existing here, you’ve already thrown that pretender’s game for a loop.”
“G-girl?” Yusuke’s hand closed around his imaginary blade, the whole of what the Paintress had said fading into background noise as he stared her down. “I won’t- what kind of madness are you talking about? I’m not a girl by any respect.”
“Oh please. Take it from me, she who has delt so often in lies.” The Paintress looked back towards Yusuke, fog spilling from her face like a waterfall. “The greatest truths are the one we hide from ourselves. You’ve seen that with your Sensei already. See to it that you don’t wait so long for yourself. Goodbye now. I’ll see you when you have need of this place next.”
“Wait but-“ Yusuke couldn’t finish before the worn wooden floor beneath him cracked open and collapsed in on itself, the darkness below swallowing him whole as he went once more to sleep. “Gah!”