Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sea glistened with the potential of have-nots and never-beens, of heroes and scholars, of light and dark. Fragments of midnight drifted and shattered, ripples of light knitting them into uneasy forms.

Among the drifting pieces, a mirror floated—cracked in three places, each shard reflecting a different face. One smiled, one scowled, one simply stared.

Deeper still, half-lost in the gloom, a boy sat slumped against invisible chains. His eyes were closed, yet the weight of him pressed against the dream, heavy as stone.

And farther out, something laughed without sound: a hollow mask, eyeless, drifting like a corpse. When the ripples touched it, the mask cracked—and darkness bled out.

From the depths came a groan, low and rising, swelling into a horn’s blare that shook the sea itself—

HOOOOOONK

The train’s horn startled Ren awake from his slumber, the dark dream dissipating with consciousness. He’s no stranger to strange dreams—but it’s been two years since he’s had one like that…

One look out the window put his thoughts to rest. As the train rolled into Yongen-Jaya on a mid March day, Ren Amamiya felt like he was coming home.

Despite a pang of guilt about leaving, Ren knew Tokyo was where he belonged. His hometown had changed after probation—friends distant, neighbors suspicious, even his parents’ warmth not enough to hold him there. So after graduation, he returned to the city. His parents understood and saw him off with love.

It was the right choice. It gave him a few weeks of breathing room before university—time to move in, reunite with friends, and maybe even enjoy some normal dates with his girlfriend. And when classes started, he wouldn’t be alone. Ann—and somehow even Ryuji—had gotten into Tokyo University too. After everything he’d been through, Ren figured he’d earned a miracle or two.

As the smell of curry hit his nostrils, his heart raced. The long expected reunion awaited just behind Leblanc’s door. He reached for it—and a loud sound burst from his bag.

“NYAH! We’re here??”

The savored silence was broken as his “cat” and friend Morgana finally woke up. The cognitive creature who represented humanity’s hope—and to this day insisted he was human (despite continued evidence to the contrary)—stuck his head out of the bag and glared at the Leblanc entrance.

“Did you use that calming spray again? You know that’s way too strong for me! How dare you deny my reunion with everyone!”

“You needed it. You wouldn’t stop moving. Or talking.” Ren responded.

“You love my voice.”

“Clearly not.”

He scowled, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Now hurry up already! Lady Ann is waiting for me!”

⸻

A wall of voices hit him the second he pushed the door open.

“REN!”

“WELCOME BACK!”

“WE MISSED YOU!”

Then came the impact. Seven bodies slammed into him before he could even take two steps inside.

“G–guys, air—need—air!” Ren wheezed.

From behind the counter, Sojiro raised an eyebrow, mug in hand. “Geez, give the kid a second to breathe. He hasn’t even had coffee yet.” His mouth twitched with a smile he didn’t bother hiding.

The pile untangled. Makoto was the first to pull him upright—and into a passionate kiss.

“Ohhh!” Haru’s sing-song voice carried over the group. “Weren’t you just there for his graduation Mako-chan? It’s been what, a week?” Haru’s smile was soft as she observed the couple.

Makoto flushed, pulling back. “We didn’t have a lot of time to ourselves,” she muttered.

Ren smirked. “…During the day, anyway.”

The table groaned, Makoto’s blush deepening as laughter rippled around them.

“Wait, what? At your parent’s place?” Ryuji clapped him on the back hard enough to jolt him. “Sly dog—”

“Good to see you too, Ryuji,” Ren cut him off.

Makoto swatted lightly at Ryuji’s arm, still pink in the face. “Honestly…you haven’t changed a bit.”

Before Ren could recover, a double blur of red hair barreled into his stomach.

“Senpai!!” Sumire squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist. “We’re so happy you’re here to stay!”

Futaba latched on from the other side with equal ferocity. “WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

Ren gasped. “Sumire, you’re an athlete, fine—but Futaba, where the hell is this grip coming from?!”

“Gamer strength!” she chirped, tightening.

The café roared with laughter as Ren tried and failed to peel them off.

Yusuke stepped forward, solemn as ever. “My soul has been barren without your light, Ren. But now, inspiration will bloom once more!”

Ren chuckled, still half-pinned. “Don’t you have a piece in a gallery right now?”

“A mere trifle,” Yusuke declared—only to yelp when Ann smacked him.

“‘A trifle’? I posed for hours!” she snapped, then softened and pulled Ren into a hug. “We missed you, Ren. Can you believe we’re gonna be classmates again? I’m so happy we’re all going to college together! Right, Ryuji?”

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji puffed out his chest. “With Ann’s modeling, Ren’s brains, and my…uh…charm? It was a total lock!”

Silence. Brutal silence.

Futaba pushed up her glasses. “As always, I sense no charm from Ryuji.”

Ryuji groaned, then slumped with a dramatic sigh. “Man, even the nerd still thinks I ain’t got charm… I’m doomed.”

The café erupted into laughter and Ann gave him him a small affectionate squeeze.

Haru pulled Ren into a tender hug. “We’re so glad you’re back. Makoto and I can’t wait to show you the apartment.”

“While I still don’t completely approve of this arrangement,” Sae muttered, “it is good to see you again.” She hugged him too, brisk but sincere.

Finally, Sojiro came around the counter and gave Ren a one-armed hug. “Good to see you, kid. Café’s hasn’t been the same without you.”

Ren smiled. “Customers missed me, huh?”

“Nah. But I did miss my smoke breaks.”

“WHAT ABOUT ME?!” Morgana finally yelled from the back, completely forgotten.

“Mona-chan!!” Haru exclaimed.

“How could we forget our most high-maintenance member?” Ann teased.

“Despite our best efforts…” Futaba muttered with mischievous glee, scratching him behind the ears.

⸻

Ren slid into the booth, Makoto on one side and Haru on the other. For a moment he just sat there, soaking it in—their laughter, their warmth, the simple fact that he was here to stay.

Makoto leaned close, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s good to finally have you back home.”

“Feels like we’ve been waiting forever,” Haru added, fingers lacing with Makoto’s for just a second before letting go.

Ann smirked across the table. “Forever, huh? Haru, I thought you and Makoto were perfect roommates already. Excited for Ren to be your third wheel?”

Makoto lifted her head, cheeks tinged pink. “A-Ann…”

Haru only smiled serenely, though her eyes lingered on Ren. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Sometimes it takes more than one bond to make something whole.”

Ren chuckled softly, slipping an arm around Makoto as his other hand brushed the edge of Haru’s sleeve in quiet acknowledgment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The table laughed, but beneath it all the moment lingered—warm, delicate, unspoken, like a secret only they shared.

⸻

Plates of curry clinked onto the table with steaming mugs of coffee as everyone squeezed into the booth. Sitting shoulder to shoulder the chatter didn’t stop for a second.

Makoto sighed. “First year of university was…intense. At this rate I’ll be dreaming in case law.”

Futaba leaned across the table. “You mean you don’t already?”

Makoto shot her a look, but Haru giggled, resting her chin in her hand. “She does. Our whole kitchen table looks like a crime board.”

“It’s efficient,” Makoto said flatly, cheeks coloring.

Haru squeezed her hand. “And adorable. Besides, I’m just as bad. Between business classes and shareholder meetings, I barely have time to plan for my café project.”

“You mean your coffee capitalism,” Makoto teased.

“Every empire starts somewhere,” Haru said sweetly.

Across the table, Futaba threw her hands up. “Okay but check me out—first year of Shujin complete! My social stats are up! Still need to grind strength with Sumire—she’s got me doing actual exercise, can you believe it?”

Sumire clapped. “You’ve improved so much already, Futaba-san. I’m really proud of you.”

“D’aww, don’t make me blush.” Futaba said blushing, then whispered, “Keep complimenting me, though.”

Ann grinned. “She’s not the only one leveling up. My modeling gigs are nonstop. I barely have time to breathe between shoots! It’s fun, but it’s exhausting.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji added proudly, “she’s basically famous now. I keep telling people I know her, and they don’t believe me.”

Ann elbowed him. “That’s because you always say it like you’re lying.”

“Hey!” Ryuji pouted, then perked up. “But it’s cool, ’cause I’ve been training like crazy. Just you watch, I’m gonna be the fastest sprinter in Tokyo!”

“Provided you don’t pull a muscle first,” Makoto muttered.

“Hey, I’m careful!”

Silence.

“…I mean I could be careful. Careful-ish. That counts, right?”

The table burst out laughing.

⸻

Yusuke cleared his throat with gravity. “I unveiled a new piece. The critics deemed it ‘melancholic yet vibrant.’ They could not grasp the brushwork’s divine solitude.”

Ann groaned. “Translation: he drowned it in symbolism again.”

“Ann!” Yusuke pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “You diminish my soul’s struggle.”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be famous now.”

“Correction,” Yusuke said proudly, “I am notorious.”

The café filled with laughter.

⸻

Sae, who had been quietly sipping her coffee, set the mug down. “It’s good to see you all focused on school and work…but maybe try to cause a little less chaos this time around.” Her eyes flicked toward Ren.

Sojiro snorted from behind the counter. “She’s got a point. You kids cause me enough gray hairs as it is. I don’t need another round of late-night phone calls about palaces or politicians.”

Ren raised his cup, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Aw, you love us,” Futaba shot back.

“Yeah, yeah. Love doesn’t pay the electric bill. Eat your curry.”

⸻

“So,” Ryuji leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, “what’s the plan now, Ren? Fishing? Batting cages? Gym? The world’s our oyster! Well for like half a month.”

Ren chuckled. “First I should probably move into my new place…unless Sojiro’s up for hosting me again.”

Sojiro smirked. “You know you’re always welcome here, but…” He jerked his head toward the girls flanking Ren. “Pretty sure they’d fight me for custody.”

Makoto crossed her arms, mock glare sharp enough to cut. “We didn’t spend weeks getting the place ready just for you to change your mind now.”

“Exactly,” Haru added, radiant. “The apartment is perfect and the view is beautiful. It’s already home.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You two sound like you’re trying to sell me on it.”

“We are,” they said in unison, dissolving into laughter.

From the floor, Morgana huffed. “Hello? Roommate here. How many cat towers are there?”

Haru scooped him up. “Relax, Mona-chan. We bought you three. Perfect for sunbathing.”

“Good…still not a cat though,” he muttered, purring contentedly in her arms.

⸻

The café hummed with life—clinking cups, the scent of curry, Futaba and Sumire squabbling over Ren’s attention while Yusuke lectured Ryuji on “the peak athletic form.”

Ren leaned back against the booth, warmth pressing in from both sides. Makoto’s hand brushed his under the table. Haru’s laughter rang soft in his ear. Across the table, Ann wiped curry from Ryuji’s mouth while Morgana strutted across the counter, basking in Sae’s reluctant pats.

He let out a quiet breath. For once, there was no palace to infiltrate, no god to unmask, no deadline to dread. Just this—friends bickering, family laughing, a future waiting outside the café’s door.

It wasn’t perfect. Nothing ever was. But in this moment, with his found family surrounding him, Ren felt something close enough: whole.

And then, his Personas stirred.

Not a whisper this time, but a surge—like a tide rising against its bounds. The air in his lungs turned heavy, and for a moment the laughter around him dulled to a muffled blur. His fingers tightened around the cup until the porcelain creaked.

In his mind’s eye, the cracked mirror from his dream floated again—its shards trembling as if something behind them wanted out. The weight of countless chains pressed against his chest, groaning, straining, as though the sea itself was shifting beneath him.

And faintly, just beyond the edges of sense, he thought he heard it again—the soundless laugh from the dark.

It vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only the café’s warmth and the chatter of his friends. But the heaviness stayed, a splinter lodged deep.

“Ren? You okay?”

Makoto touched his arm, bringing him out of his reverie. He blinked the thoughts away and smiled. “Yeah. Just tired from the trip.” He gave her hand a squeeze, letting a sly grin slip. “Looking forward to the new bed.”

Makoto turned bright red. “Ren!”

Sae glared. “Excuse me?”

Laughs broke out across the table, and the normalcy he felt earlier slowly returned. The laughter carried on, but the unease clung to him—an echo of a world beginning to fracture.

⸻

Across the city, an elegant figure sat at her desk, pen tapping softly against polished wood.

Mitsuru Kirijo had waited years to return to Tokyo with her Operatives. The machinations of evil men had stalled her plans and left the city defenseless against not one but two cognitive gods. She would not let that happen again. Yet her new freedom brought no relief. Every document, every sighting, every tremor over the last few months pointed to the same conclusion: the Cognitive Realm was cracking. And there was no way in.

Her phone buzzed. Mitsuru picked it up without looking

On the other end, a clear voice answered. “Minor distortions. Brief, fleeting—only Persona-users seem to notice. Nothing that would alarm the public.”

“Yet,” Mitsuru murmured. Her pen tapped once against the wood. “And our other sources?”

A pause. “The pressure in the Cognitive Realm is starting to reach a breaking point. Whatever this is…it won’t stay hidden for long.”

Mitsuru allowed herself a thin exhale. The city glowed with the warmth of spring, but through the cracks in the pavement she felt a grasping cold. “Then we move carefully. Keep your eyes open. I’ll be in contact with your old friend. It’s about time we brought him in.”

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased. He’s been bored since Rise’s tour started.”

“Anything else to report?”

“One last thing; the Trickster has returned. Exactly as you said he would.”

A small smile curved on Mitsuru's lips. “Good. A few strings pulled and now he's in play. Keep me updated on him and his friends for now. I’ll have my other sources keep a closer eye on them when the semester starts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the voice replied.

The line went dead. Silence settled, broken only by the faint rhythm of her pen. Outside her window, a car horn wailed in the Tokyo night—sharp, echoing, almost like a distant call from the sea itself. Mitsuru did not flinch. She could not afford to.

The cracks were spreading. The Trickster had returned. The pieces were moving. And the Sea was rising.

Chapter Text

Ren could see the sun dip below the Tokyo skyline as he entered his new apartment. The girls weren’t kidding about the view, he thought.

“This is incredible! The windows are so big! There’s so much space to run! And the cat towers are perfectly aligned!” Morgana streaked across the floor, sniffing, circling, then plopping down in the biggest sun patch he could find.

“I’ll never get used to the fact he talks,” Sae said, hefting one of Ren’s bags. “One of these days I want a transcript.”

“If the Metaverse ever comes back, we’ll drag you in,” Ren said with a grin. “Then you can join us in the torment.”

Most of his luggage were sent ahead of him, so one trip with Sae’s help was all they needed. Makoto had already begun the tour. “So this is the living room, and the kitchen is over here. Don’t mind the case notes on the table, if I move them I might lose it. We went shopping the other day so there should be enough food, and the bedrooms are upstairs.”

Makoto brought him to the upstairs area. “The bathroom is at the end on the right, the guest room and office is across from it. Haru insisted on finding a place with rooftop access, so the stairs here lead up to our private rooftop and garden. Her bedroom is on the right, and um…” a blush rose across her face, “…this is our room.”

“Ahh, a bed fit for a Queen and her Joker.” He smiled as he held her close.

“Well, technically it’s a king, but—” Makoto squeaked against his kiss, swatting his shoulder with mock indignation.

“I’m so excited to live with you, my beloved Beep Boop.” He laughed at her pout, she wasn’t the biggest fan of that nickname but she looked so adorably miffed every time he said it, how could he not use it? He drew her into a more sensual kiss, savoring the moment.

A loud cough from downstairs broke their kiss. “If you two are done, I’ll be going now.” Sae called up the stairs. Ren smirked, “She’s just jealous cause we’re young and in love.”

Giggling, the two went back downstairs. “Thanks for your help Sis.” Makoto said as she hugged her sister.

“Anytime, you know I’m always here for you.” Sae said returning the hug. She turned to Ren, crossing her arms. “As for you Amamiya, treat her right, be an excellent roommate to these two, and” her voice lowered to a threatening growl “don’t you dare ruin her future. You know what I mean. Don’t make me prosecute you. Family or not even you aren’t exempt.”

Makoto buried her glowing red face in her hands while Haru laughed from across the room.

Family? Aw she’s warming up to me, he thought. Tempting fate, Ren smirked. “Didn’t know that was illegal.”

Sae glared. “It is with me.” Her point made, her expression softened as she gave him polite yet affectionate hug.

“It is good to see you. Take care of her. I’m watching you.” Sae then grabbed her bag and left the apartment.

—

Now just the roommates were left to enjoy their new living space. Ren finished moving his bags in (for the most part) and settled down onto the couch with Makoto and Haru. Morgana prowled the apartment, sniffing cushions and inspecting window sills, clearly marking the place for future naps. Soft music played through the vinyl player in the living room.

“This is nice,” Ren said, leaning on his girlfriend and stroking her hand. Haru was on the other side of Makoto, idly playing with her floofy hair and smiling.

“We’ve waited months for this…our little family.” Haru said cheerfully, though her voice caught for just a breath before she smoothed it over with another smile. “Oh let me show you some of my plants Ren-kun!” Haru had arranged them neatly across the room and they gave a sense of home and serenity throughout the apartment. “This little one is the Fool,” Haru said, patting a succulent. “It always leans toward new light. And this one’s the Empress!” She drifted to the others; Ren noticed they all shared the names of the Arcana. “They all remind me we all grow toward the light in our own way,” she said proudly, “and wait until I show you our rooftop garden! I’m growing some vegetables up there that we’ve been using in our cooking.”

The mention of food made Ren’s stomach grumble. Haru giggled, “You must still be hungry after your travels, shall we make something Mako-chan?”

Makoto smiled playfully as she got up, “Okay, but this time you follow my lead, less burning makes it more edible.”

Haru smiled lightly, “Oh Mako-chan you know I’d follow you anywhere.” She took Ren’s hands and led him into the kitchen. “Come on Ren-kun, let’s cook our first meal together!”

—

The kitchen was already humming with energy by the time Ren rolled up his sleeves. Makoto had the ingredients lined up with almost military precision: flour, cabbage, scallions, pork belly slices, eggs. Haru hummed as she pulled a cast-iron griddle from the cupboard. She patted the scallions proudly. “Fresh from the rooftop. Our garden’s already feeding us!”

“Operation Okonomiyaki is a go,” Ren announced.

“You make it sound like a mission,” Makoto muttered, whisk in hand. Her cheeks colored, though, when Haru saluted.

“All missions need a commander,” Haru said cheerfully. “And I say our dear Mako-chan is in charge.”

Ren leaned over the bowl. “Commander, what’s the first order?”

Makoto arched a brow. “Chop the cabbage. Uniformly.”

The rhythm of cooking filled the air—chop, whisk, sizzle—as the three moved around each other in the small kitchen. Haru scattered scallions with almost dainty precision, while Makoto whipped the batter until her arm ached. Ren, determined not to embarrass himself, managed halfway-decent cabbage shreds before he nicked his finger.

“Careful!” Makoto caught his wrist before he could brush it off. She inspected the tiny cut with exaggerated seriousness. “Battle injury sustained. Medic required.”

“I’ll live,” Ren deadpanned.

“Not without treatment.” Haru pressed a cute pink band-aid onto his finger before he could stop her. “There. Now you’re ready for the front lines again.”

Ren wiggled his finger, amused. “Stronger than ever.”

Finally, the first pancake hit the griddle with a hiss. The scent of sizzling batter and pork filled the room, warm and mouthwatering.

“The most dangerous part—the flip.” Makoto stared expectantly at Ren, who hovered the spatula dramatically. “So the fate of dinner rests in my hands.”

“You’ve got this Ren-kun!” Haru clapped her hands excitedly.

“See? Haru believes in me.” Ren winked, then flipped the pancake in one smooth motion. It landed whole, sizzling.

“Perfect form!” Haru cheered.

Makoto’s frown cracked into the tiniest smile. “…Acceptable.”

“High praise from Commander Beep Boop,” Ren teased.

Makoto elbowed him hard enough to make him stumble, laughter spilling through the kitchen as the next sizzling pancake hit the pan.

—

By the time the plates were set, the table looked like a festival stall: golden pancakes drizzled with okonomiyaki sauce, mayonnaise spiraled into playful patterns, bonito flakes dancing in the heat. Haru folded her hands. “Itadakimasu!”

Ren took a bite. Crisp edge, soft middle, savory pork. His eyes widened. “This is…really good.”

“See? Following the commander’s orders works,” Makoto said, her own bite accompanied by a pleased little hum.

Haru smiled at them both, sauce staining the corner of her lip. Ren reached over instinctively, brushing it away with his thumb. She froze for a second, then laughed softly, eyes warm. “Careful, Ren-kun. That’s how rumors start.”

Makoto’s blush deepened, but she didn’t pull away when Haru laced her fingers with hers under the table.

Ren leaned back, chopsticks tapping his plate. For the first time all day, it felt real—not just that he was back, but that he was here, in this apartment, sharing a meal with the two people who had waited for him. The laughter, the food, the warmth…it was a promise, unspoken but solid.

Morgana jumped onto the chair beside him, pawing at the edge of a pancake. “Finally! A feast worthy of me!”

“Careful, Mona-chan, it’s hot,” Haru said gently, sliding a piece into a dish for him.

Ren smiled at the sight—Makoto rolling her eyes, Haru humming as she served, Morgana gobbling down his share. Maybe this was just dinner. Or maybe it was the first step toward something deeper.

Either way, it felt like home.

—

After eating the trio settled back down on the couch. They debated putting on a movie but settled for more music and conversation.

As the soft sounds of jazz flowed through the apartment their conversation drifted from topic to topic.

“…and with how many hours I put in during my first year I don’t know how I’ll handle my casework during the second…I’m not sure how many more notes our kitchen table can take before it falls apart.” Makoto shuddered slightly as Ren held her closer.

“Normally the shareholder meetings don’t happen so frequently but the Kirijo Group offer has really riled up the board, they usually aren’t so forward.” Haru pondered for a moment and smiled, “I can’t help wondering what Mitsuru Kirijo is really like…”

Ren unconsciously shivered at that. “The ice queen of Japan?” Ren sat up at this as the girls looked at him quizzically. “Hey I know some public figures. Didn’t the Kirijos get strong-armed out of Tokyo years ago?”

“Yes indeed, and no one knows why. But the Kirijo Group has taken a stronger hold in the city over the last year, so an offer out of the blue was not impossible but certainly unexpected.” Haru paused, “Imagine meeting Mitsuru Kirijo! I have so much to ask her, wouldn’t you too Mako-chan?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Makoto looked off to the side, “I think I’d get pretty intimidated. She’s basically royalty.”

“And you’re a Queen, Makoto, you’d get along with her just fine.” Ren smiled and kissed the crown of her head, causing her to faintly smile as well.

“What about me?” Haru pouted as she crossed her arms.

“You’re an Empress, Haru, I have no worries you’ll charm her. And if things go south, pull out the grenade launcher.”

Laughter broke through the room as they listened to the music, taking in the moment.

—

Ren looked out the window, a question burning on his lips, yet his trepidation kept them closed. Would they think he was imagining it? That he couldn’t let go?

But Haru saw his conflict. “What’s wrong, Ren-kun?” She asked.

His brow furrowed as he formed his thoughts, the jazz fading to a background blur. “Have…have you felt anything from your personas recently?”

Both girls shook their heads. “Mine has been quiet since the Jails.” Haru said,

“Same with mine,” said Makoto, “besides we have no way to enter the Metaverse anymore. Have you felt yours, Ren?”

Ren fidgeted, forming his next words carefully. “I did, earlier today at Leblanc. And while I was on the train, I had a dream of…” He couldn’t quite put into words what he saw “…of something vast. Shattered, drifting…like pieces of a sea I can’t hold together. I haven’t had dreams like that since, well since the Velvet Room. I think…it’s all connected somehow. But I’m not sure where it’s going, or why…”

Makoto hugged Ren tightly. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. Like we always do.”

Haru got up and sat down next to Ren, hugging him too. “Maybe tomorrow let’s try to find the Velvet Room door? There could be some sort of clue and we can go from there.”

Ren smiled faintly and hugged both girls back. “Thank you Makoto, Haru. You’re the best roommates I’ve ever had.”

A wail went up from Morgana’s newly acquired sunspot.

“They’ve been your roommates for less than a day! I’ve been rooming with you for two years!!”

The trio’s laughter broke the tension. With plans made they faded back into the music. From somewhere deep in the city, a single horn wailed and fell away. Ren didn’t hear it—but he felt the ripple.

—

Mitsuru poured her tea as she sifted through the reports at her desk, the twilight of the city reflected in the glass. Her calendar was already filling with notes, each box marked by the same looming word: Summit. Not yet a date, not yet a certainty—but a goal. By the end of summer, she would have every piece in place.

Her path forward was clear enough: finalize the cognitive tether, confirm its stability, and bring the Trickster into the fold. Yet all of it hinged on what she could not manufacture—the will of those who would fight beside her. The Trickster. And the other Wild Cards—seasoned, distant, but no less vital.

She reached for a different folder, one she rarely opened, its label written in her own hand: Elizabeth. Sightings in distorted spaces, whispers of a woman in blue. Each lead ended in smoke. And yet, the patterns she tracked—tremors in the Sea, distortions near Velvet Room thresholds—suggested purpose, not chance. Elizabeth was alive. And moving.

If Mitsuru could find her, the door might open again. The answers might finally come.

The city outside glittered as though untouched, but her projections told another story: fractures widening across the Cognitive Realm, pressure building beneath the surface. She lifted her teacup, tasted the lukewarm tea, and set it aside with a faint frown.

The Trickster’s return. The cracks in the Sea. Elizabeth’s shadow at the edges of every report. The pieces were aligning—but the picture was still incomplete.

Time was running short. For the sake of the world—she would not falter. She had lost too much to fail again.

And far beneath the surface, the Cognitive Sea cracked again—its call silent to all but those who had once answered.

Chapter Text

Ren had settled down for another night of sleep with his girlfriend, something that still excited him after a year living in separate cities. Unfortunately they had spent the evening sampling some of Haru’s latest coffee batches, and while a surprising amount of them were delicious, they had had about 4 cups each. In the evening.

So his mind was going a little wild. The last week had been a whirlwind of reunions and reacclimation. Between the Thieves and a few old acquaintances, Ren felt like every day had been a small homecoming.

His dreams hadn’t bothered him since he arrived a week ago. They had looked for the Velvet Room door the day after he arrived but there was no sign of it.

Him and Makoto drank about two cups each of sleepytime tea. While it seemed to have worked for Makoto, Ren cursed the creators of the tea for their lies and false advertising. A buzz from his phone broke his vengeful thoughts, and Ren wondered who could be texting him at 1 a.m?

Futaba: Hey harem protag

F: Too much caffeine?

Ren: Stop calling me that.

R: And there’s no way you bugged this apartment.

F: I’ll stop when women stop falling for you

F: And nope. Not yet, at least.

F: Haru told me about your little coffee night.

F: “Oh I hope Ren-Kun loves my coffee I would die if he didn’t his taste is so refined” etc. etc.

F: See? Women fawn over you. Harem protag.

R: …

R: If you’re just gonna harass me I’m gonna ignore you.

F: As if you’d ever ignore little old me

F: But seriously.

F: Let’s have a fun day tomorrow

F: We still haven’t hung out one-on-one yet. And It’s been a week!

F: Come to LeBlanc in the morning for breakfast, I’ve got a day planned out for us

F: Don’t bring the harem

F: And no cat

R: I don’t have a harem.

F: Tell that to Makoto. And Haru.

F: One more coffee night like that and she’s gonna start grinding beans just for you.

R: …fine. See you tomorrow.

Ren put down his phone, wondering what chaos she had planned just for him.

He turned over and stared directly into Makoto’s eyes, studying him intently.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Nope. The caffeine was a little excessive.”  

She smiled.

“I think I know what’ll tire us out…”

And so neither of them got very much sleep that night.

—

The next morning, Ren blearily walked through the door of LeBlanc, exhausted and both craving and despising coffee.

Luckily for him, a red-haired blur would jolt him awake.

“REN! And you came alone! You do listen!” Futaba yelled into him.

Slowly regaining the air the impact pushed out of him, he patted Futaba’s head, “Of course I do.”

“Cause you’re a ‘good boy’?”

“That is exactly why you shouldn’t bug your friend’s places.”

“Not my fault you were loud enough to be heard from the kitchen.”

“Goddammit.”

“Oh stop whining, it’s breakfast time. SOJIROOO COFFEE AND CURRY PLEASE!”

The older man emerged from the kitchen rubbing a glass, “Yeah yeah I know the routine.” Ren and Futaba took a seat at the bar as Sojiro prepared their food and drink. “So how’s the new place treating you Ren? Nijima got you whipped yet?” He said with a smirk.

“I know he likes that,” Futaba said evilly.

“Futaba.”

“Sorry I’ll stop.”

Ren sighed. “But I’m a model roommate. Even Morgana is behaving. And it’s nice to sleep in an actual bed while in Tokyo.” Ren took a sip of his coffee, “But I've missed you Sojiro. And nothing beats the taste of your coffee.”

“I’m telling Haru.”

“FUTABA.”

“Sorry sorry that was the last one.”

Sojiro chuckled. “You just missed the free coffee kid, but it is good to have you back, even if you don’t live here anymore. Though I will miss the free labor.”

Ren looked around the empty cafe, “Yea because you really need the help. Sometimes I wonder how you stay open Sojiro.”

“Me too kid, me too. Maybe I’ll sell the place to your other lady eventually, wouldn’t mind having her take over the place.”

“She does make some damn good coffee nowadays.”

“Noooo I must inherit this place!” Futaba countered, “How else will I get curry and coffee??”

“That would require you to make it first Futaba,” Ren replied, “which when I last checked you still don’t know how to do.”

“I placed my skill points in other areas!” Futaba said, “For example, would the me of two years ago be able to organize a super special Futaba-and-Ren Day of Fun all over Tokyo? In crowds? And loud places?”

Ren chuckled, “She most certainly wouldn’t have. I’m proud of you Futaba.”

She beamed up at him. “Thanks Ren!”

Sojiro smiled, “I’ve missed seeing you two together. But don’t let her get you into any trouble Ren.”

Futaba groaned, “Yeah yeah, we’ll be fine. Now eat up, cause we’re gonna need our energy. Which Makoto clearly stole from you last night.”

“I’m going home.”

“NOooo!”

—

The first stop on their day of fun was the nerd capital of Akihabara.

“Remember when you got lost here and I had to save you from the police?”

“…yea.”

“One of the first times we really bonded.”

Futaba stuck her tongue out at him, but smiled afterwards. “First time I felt like I had any connection outside of a parent. Knowing you’d have my back…it’s special.” Her face scrunched up. “Bleh! Too much sappiness too early, let’s get down and dirty and find us some good loot!”

They searched through shops for the various vintage pieces of nerd culture Futaba sought. Her eyes lingered on a Pink Argus figure in the display.

“Ohh that would be perfect. Yukari Takeba is one of my favorite actresses. She’s so stupidly pretty…” Futaba sighed and looked off into the distance.

“I’ve got this one Futaba,” Ren said. He still had quite a bit of his Metaverse savings, so the figure was nothing for him. Futaba smiled with glee as she held onto her dearly sought loot.

As they walked by a phone store, they saw a different yet still familiar red head leave the store.

“Sumire!”

Futaba shoved the Pink Argus figure into Ren’s arms and ran into the other girls arms as she spun her around.

“Futaba-chan! And Senpai!” Sumire gently placed Futaba down and gave Ren a hug. “I’m so glad to see you again! What brings you two here?”

“Just some vintage pieces of nerd culture,” she said proudly, holding her Pink Argus figure. “How about you? Fixing your phone again?”

“Yes! Hopefully this time it actually works.”

“Sumire, is that the same phone you had two years ago?” Ren asked.

“Oh not at all! I’m just unlucky with technology it seems, everything I get breaks or doesn’t work! Luckily I have Futaba-chan, she can fix anything!”

“Except your phone,” she said glumly, “you have some crazy anti technology field around you Sumire.”

“Then you better stay away from me Futaba-chan,” Sumire said teasingly, “I know how much you like technology.”

“Not as much as I like you—Yukari Takeba! Pink Argus! So good!” she blurted, clutching the box like a lifeline.

“Great catch,” Ren whispered.

“Oh,” Sumire said, looking slightly crestfallen. But she lit up almost immediately, “Well you’ll have to tell me about her sometime Futaba-chan! Maybe next time at training?”

Futaba blushed slightly, “Uh sure, didn’t know you liked nerd stuff…”

Sumire giggled, “Well I do like to know about what you like so I’d love to hear about it!”

Futaba smiled shyly, “Ok then, next time I see you I’ll tell you all the lore. But we uh gotta get going, got a big day of fun ahead of us.”

Sumire smiled, “Of course, I’ll see you later Futaba-chan! Bye Senpai!”

They said their goodbyes and went on their way.

“So,” Ren asked, “since when are you into Sumire?”

“Since I saw her abs…”

“Wait what?”

“GAH! No. Not talking about this.”

“You sure?”

“NO. Wait, YES? Ugh!”

“Come on, after all the crap you give me about Makoto?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s the same thing.”

She groaned into her hands.

“This is why feelings are bad. They make you blurt out dumb stuff. So embarrassing.”

Ren chuckled, “She is pretty. And kind. Could be worse.”

Futaba flailed. “Nope. Not happening. Deleted from memory in 3…2…1—gone!” She held up her haul as a shield. “Now back Futaba and Ren’s Day of Fun!”

Ren just smiled, letting her babble as they headed to their next stop…

—

…a maid cafe.

“Please no.”

“Please YES.”

“Never in a million years would I imagine you wanting to come here.”

“True! But coming here with you? Now that’s fun!”

“I’m taking you to karaoke and making you sing.”

“Hisssss.”

A maid led them to their table, where another maid took their orders and called them “meowster,” to Futaba’s endless giggles.

“Reminds you of someone doesn’t it, eh Ren?”

“How many bugs did you plant in LeBlanc?”

“Enough to know if you had hit her with some moves she would’ve been all over you.”

“Futaba…”

“I’m a teacher and you’re my student! THAT’S THE BEST PART!”

“FUTABA!”

“Oh come on she totally would’ve gone for that!”

“…the fact you’re right doesn’t mean you should say it out loud. Besides, it never would’ve worked out between us. And she’s kind of a mother figure to me now…”

“Gonna call her Kawamommy?”

“Nope. New topic. Excited for your final year of high school?”

“Guess who’s my homeroom teacher?”

“...I walked right into that one didn’t I?”

Finally their food arrived with their maid. “Thank you meowsters! And have a meowarific day!”

“Heh,” Futaba said as she smiled goofily.

Ren came to a sudden realization.

“Wait a minute…you legitimately like this place!”

Her face turned red. “Nuh uh.”

“Got a thing for maids, don’t ya?

“NUH UH.”

“You know that one looks like Sumire-“

“AHHHHH!” Futaba screeched, burying her face in the menu.

Ren grinned mischievously, “You started this, Oracle. I’m just finishing it.”

—

After eating and paying the bill the two left the cafe, ready to begin the next part of their adventure.

“And now for our next activity…we’re going to crash Inari’s party!”

Ren couldn’t believe his ears. “There’s no way Yusuke is throwing a party.”

“Well not really a party more of a gallery showing. And not really ‘crashing,’ more ‘invited.’”

“So, every word of what you just said was wrong?”

“From a certain point of view.”

“Fair enough. Why isn’t everyone else coming?”

“We all went together a few weeks ago when it first opened.”

“Ah.”

“Yea it’s for the painting he called a ‘trifle’ that pissed off Ann. She sat for like seven hours for it. And it wasn’t even a painting of her! Well not directly, you’ll see.”

They walked through the door of the gallery into a surprisingly crowded room. Various works of art were hung over the walls, but they were drawn to the piece next to their blue haired friend.

It depicted a red haired woman, hair woven into two braids, each choking a distorted male figure as she stepped over them. The figure appeared as if through a shattered mirror, each fragment bearing a slight variation in color, creating a stained glass effect in the painting.

“That’s…Célestine.” Ren remembered Ann’s ultimate persona, the embodiment of the actress who played Ann’s first persona, Carmen. Yusuke was giving some of the history to onlookers before he spotted the pair.

“….and then she is brutally murdered by her lover Jose. But the actress herself was praised as the true inspiration for Carmen, and the character was rewritten to suit Célestine…ah my guests have arrived, please enjoy the splendor of fragmented love.”

Yusuke approached the pair and gave a low bow.

“My dearest friends, thank you for being present for but one step upon my artistic journey.”

“Yeah yeah good painting blah blah, I brought Ren here you owe me now. It’s supposed to be our Day of Fun!”

“Hey Yusuke guess who likes maids.”

“LALA NOT LISTENING!”

Futaba plugged her ears and danced in place, giving the boys a moment to talk without interruption.

“Look at you Yusuke, this is a pretty nice gallery! And that’s definitely not a trifle, but I’m not sure why Ann needed to sit for a few hours for it…”

“It is simple Ren. The persona is a mask we wear to show the true world. But to understand the mask you must understand the wearer. Therefore, I needed Ann in order to truly capture Ann herself.”

“Wow I actually understood that explanation.”

“Indeed. I intend it as part one of a series, where I will capture each of our ultimate personas. I am most excited for yours Ren, now that you are back I will have days to draw out your true self onto the canvas.”

“…maybe not days but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Ren stared at the painting again, taking in a curious detail. “Couldn’t help but notice the broken pieces, that represent anything or just artistic flair?”

Yusuke paused a moment, weighing his next words. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure. It came to me while I painted, and at first I worried it would be a broken creation. But the fractured came back together as a brand new whole. You have heard of Kintsugi, yes? It is the art of repairing broken pottery by mending the break points with lacquer dusted in gold. We all break don’t we? But we pick up the pieces and rebuild again, creating something new each time we fall. There’s beauty in that rebirth and restoration of wholeness.”

“That’s beautiful Yusuke. So what did that have to do with Célestine?”

“I have no idea. Hence why it is a trifle. Piece and theme must be united otherwise the dissonance rings out. But my next piece will outshine this one for sure!”

By this point Futaba had returned from her pouting, and the three wandered the gallery for a while.

As the sun started to hang low in the sky, Futaba and Ren said their goodbyes.

“Great art my friend, I know the next one will earn some praise from you.”

“We shall see Ren, we shall see. Thank you again for coming, it means the world to me.”

Ren pulled his friend into a hug then left the gallery. Futaba dragged Ren to the trains. “Now onto our final stop…”

—

“…LeBlanc!”

The familiar scent of coffee and curry washed over them as they returned to their old home base.

“You kids have a good day?” Sojiro asked.

“You bet! Say nothing about the maids or I will make some very unsavory recordings of you.”

“We really really need to talk about you spying on your friends.”

As they settled down for their evening coffee and curry, they reflected on the day.

“Not bad for Futaba and Ren’s Day of Fun eh? Probably could’ve replaced seeing Inari with an arcade or something, but not every choice can be 100% right.” Futaba’s voice grew more serious. “Thanks for going along with my chaos today. You’re family, y’know? I know you’re here for good, but I wanted to be the first to show you all the fun parts of Tokyo and how much you’ve missed being gone. Having you back here…I’m not gonna say it’s like old times, but it just feels right. I wanted you to feel at home.”

Ren smiled warmly and gave Futaba an all encompassing hug. “Mission accomplished Futaba. Love you.”

“Love you too Ren.” She broke the hug with a sniff, “Well, guess that’s enough sappiness for today. Now tonight, we eat curry till we can’t eat anymore!”

As they finished their food, their conversation turned to lighthearted banter.

“So, living with two women, how do you handle it harem protag?”

“Don’t piss them off.”

“Fair. You did pick the two scariest women we know to live with.”

“Makoto isn’t…that scary. Haru…yea Haru is pretty scary.”

“Oh man you haven’t seen them both upset at the same time.”

“And I hope I never will.”

“That’s why you better not be pulling that harem protag stuff on poor Haru. She already looks at you like you’re the last plate of curry in the pot.”

Ren rubbed the back of his neck. “…That’s oddly specific.”

“’Cause it’s true. Just saying, you’ve got two girls who care way too much about you. Don’t mess it up.”

Ren felt heat crawl up his neck. Futaba smirked knowingly. Haru’s laugh from last night drifted back to him unbidden, soft and warm.

After they finished their food and coffee, Futaba laid out the grand finale for the day.

“Video games! C’mon, let’s play a game or two. Perfect way to cap off our day. Promise you won’t miss the train.”

—

Having just caught the last train, Ren arrived back home, fulfilled but very exhausted from the Futaba-and-Ren Day of Fun.

“How was your day with Futaba?” Makoto asked, giving him a kiss as he entered the apartment.

“Very fun, very chaotic, typical Futaba. I did learn something interesting about her though…”

His phone buzzed.

“One sec.”

Futaba: DON’T YOU DARE

Ren: Sorry, but I tell Makoto everything

“Anyway I think Futaba has a crush on Sumire.”

F: AHHH THAT’S EVEN WORSE THAN WHAT I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONNA SAY

R: ;D

Futaba’s furious texts kept buzzing in his hand, but he ignored them.

Makoto leaned against the counter, brow arched. “No way! I know they’ve been hanging out a lot and they’re in the same year…but I guess that does explain all the blushing.”

Ren smirked. “You know you were the same way before we started going out.”

“Ren!” she groaned, swatting his arm—but her laughter betrayed her. They kissed, giggling into each other, lost for a moment in the warmth of memory.

His phone buzzed again. With a sigh, he picked it up.

The Metaverse app was on his screen.

His thumb hovered. He hadn’t seen it since they fought Maruki…

He pressed it.

The screen cracked. For an instant, he saw a broken sky, seas made of glass, and a voice calling from the deep.

Then it was gone. Along with the app. Only his reflection stared back.

Ren’s chest tightened. First his dream. Then Yusuke’s fractured canvas. Now this. The pattern pressed against the edges of his mind, begging to be named.

Ren looked around the room. Morgana was alert, flicking his ears at nothing, but soon settled back down. Makoto’s laughter in the kitchen called him back, grounding him in the present. He slid the phone into his pocket, forcing a smile.

For now, he’d let the secret rest. But he knew it was only sleeping.

Chapter Text

Ren stands on a platform in Shibuya Station…but instead of trains and tunnels, there is only an endless ocean of glass stretching beyond the horizon under broken stars. Mirror shards drift atop the surface, each one reflecting a different vision…

Makoto stands in a courtroom, stern and unyielding, condemning innocent people to imprisonment solely because the law demanded it.

Haru stands over a factory railing, dressed like a powerful CEO, coldly ordering her exhausted workers to keep going if they wished to feed their families.

Ren is shackled to a wall in a lightless room. He yells for Makoto, for his friends, for anyone at all. The only answer is a cruel laugh emanating from the darkness…

He reaches toward one shard, desperate to touch it—only for the glass to splinter, releasing a brittle echo like breaking ice, and sink into the dark below. One after another, each vision shatters at his fingertips, swallowed by the sea beneath.

From the depths, a glow stirs. Velvet blue, flickering like a lantern in deep water. He reached toward the light…

Above him, the sky fell. Shards of stars, reflecting maddening possibilities, crashed around him…

The sound of shattering glass still rang in his ears as he jolted upright. For a moment the shards clung to him, until Makoto’s quiet breathing pulled him back. Her hair, now grown past her shoulders, brushed his arm as she shifted closer in her sleep.

He was home. Safe. But not at peace.

They had failed to find the Velvet Room door two weeks ago, and last week he thought he saw the Metaverse app. Now the dreams were back, dreams about his loved ones. And he had no idea what it meant.

He glanced at the clock—5:00 a.m. Dawn was just breaking over the city, it’s light caught on the framed photos along the wall: one of the Phantom Thieves, one of him and Makoto on the beach last summer, and a new one—Ren, Makoto, Haru and Morgana on the café terrace, all laughing in the midday sun.

Makoto stirred, eyes heavy with sleep. “Ren…are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love. You’re here.” He kissed the crown of her head, then exhaled slowly, letting the world return piece by piece. The faint chill of early spring, the distant hum of trains, the way her legs tangled with his like she never wanted to let go. Her warmth eased his thoughts, and slowly he gave in to the call of sleep.

—

After waking up at a normal hour, Ren and Makoto headed downstairs, where Haru and Morgana were already awake.

“Good morning!” Haru chirped. “It’s our last hurrah before classes start! I made tamagoyaki and onigiri — I’m also trying a new miso base, so fingers crossed it’s good!”

Morgana circled the plate as though inspecting a royal feast. “If it’s not fit for royalty, I will sulk.”

Haru giggled, “Oh Mona-chan, since when are you a food critic?”

“I’m not. I just have standards.” He sniffed, then dug in.

Ren grabbed a plate and sat down. “So where are we going again for Hanami?”

Makoto sat down across from him. “We’re meeting everyone at Shinjuku Gyoen. But first we’ll pick up some supplies in Shibuya.” She tried the miso. “Oh! This is fantastic Haru!”

Haru beamed brightly, “Thank you! See Mona-chan? Fit for a Queen!”

The apartment filled with laughter as the group finished their food and prepared for their last day of freedom. Soon enough the four of them drifted out into the springtime rush of Tokyo.

—

Shibuya bustled with the layered noise only Tokyo could muster. Vendors hawked their wares, buskers strummed, and rumor rode the air.

“Have you heard about Rise-chan? They say she’s dating now—I think some boy from her hometown?”

“If it’s true her agency’s gonna lose it. Public relationships tank idol sales.”

They passed the gossiping teens and wandered the stalls. Makoto browsed books while Haru sifted through scarves, and Morgana casually bounced between them all.

“Morgana!” Makoto hissed as he wove through her legs, nearly tripping her.

Ren caught her with a chuckle. “What’d you find?”

“Kokoro,” she said softly. “A story about trust…and what’s left when it breaks.”

Before he could say anything, Haru tugged Makoto toward a rack of scarves. “Pashminas! Try this one.” She draped a wine-red one over Makoto’s shoulders. “It brings out your eyes, Mako-chan.”

Makoto flushed, testing the fabric’s weight with a spin. “It’s beautiful…but a bit warm for the season.”

“That’s why it’s on sale,” Haru said, triumphant. She turned to Ren. “And for you—charcoal. Perfect with your winter coat.”

Ren let her loop it around him, smiling. “I’ll trust the expert.”

Haru lingered, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. Her touch was light, but her eyes brightened when he smiled in thanks.

Across the stall, Makoto noticed with the faintest curve of a smirk before turning back to her book.

Nearby, two high schoolers argued in raised voices.

“You don’t even care anymore, do you?”

“Why should I? None of this matters. Not school, not us.”

Ren frowned at the bitterness of the words. Above them, a screen advertising an idol concert cracked open…and the yellow eyes of a shadow peered through.

For a heartbeat, the crowd’s chatter dulled, like sound under water—and the billboard gave a soft static pop.

He blinked. The crack was gone.

The crowd noise returned. Children laughed, vendors shouted out into the street.

“Ren-kun?”

Haru touched his shoulder, concerned. “Are you ok? Oh,” She saw the screen he was looking at and grinned, “I didn’t know you were a fan of Rise Kujikawa! If we have time maybe we can all go see her show!”

Ren did his best to give a sincere smile, “Yea I’d love that. And I love this scarf…er, pashmina. Let’s get it.”

Haru beamed and refused to let Ren pay for the pashmina. After Haru made the purchases they walked arm in arm to the station and toward their friends. Despite the laughter and promise of friendship, the shadow stuck in his mind.

“Hey guys? Give me one second, I want to see if Iwai is in real quick.”

Before they could react he rushed off to the last known location of the Velvet Room door. He reached for the place where the door once stood, fingertips brushing nothing but cool stone. No Velvet Room. No Lavenza. No answers. He ran back to his roommates.

“Did you see Iwai? Should we stop by before we go?” Makoto asked.

“Nah he was on break. Besides let’s go see those blossoms, wouldn’t want to miss them all falling.”

The girls giggled and Morgana rolled his eyes as they walked on. Ren forced himself to match their pace, and listened as Haru described the perfect picnic spot she’d picked out. But his mind stayed fixed on that crack in the world, on the feeling that someone—or something—had been staring back at him.

—

Shinjuku Gyoen shimmered with spring light. The cherry trees were in full bloom, petals drifting through the air like slow snow. The park was alive with color and sound—families laughing, couples leaning close beneath the pink canopies, the breeze carrying the faint scent of sweet rice and tea.

Haru frowned, scanning the crowd. “Hmm, more crowded than I thought. I hope the others found the spot—I did give precise instructions on where to find it…”

Ren adjusted the charcoal scarf Haru had bought him, the soft fabric brushing against his chin. Beside him, Makoto’s longer hair caught the sunlight as she smiled at Haru, her gentle laugh carrying in the wind. Haru herself looked like spring embodied: a lavender blouse tucked neatly into white trousers, a ribbon in her hair fluttering as she balanced their picnic basket.

“Yo, guys! Over here!”

The shout cut through the hum of the park, and they spotted Ryuji standing halfway up a hill, waving both arms wildly in the air. Beside him, Futaba crouched over the picnic blanket, guarding a basket like a dragon with its hoard.

Ann sat nearby, hair down for once, a soft beret tilted at an angle that somehow looked both casual and perfectly deliberate. Yusuke was already sketching the scene, sleeves rolled up, expression serene as falling petals landed on his page. And Sumire twirled among the blossoms in a white sundress, laughter trailing behind her like music.

“‘Bout time you guys got here!” Ryuji called. “You’re lucky Futaba’s been guarding all the food—otherwise Ann and I would’ve eaten everything!”

Futaba growled, “He kept trying but no invaders are getting into this castle!”

Sumire giggled, “You’re such a noble knight Futaba!”

Futaba blushed slightly, “Never stop complimenting me please.”

Morgana ran around the falling blossoms, batting at them and trying to catch them. Ryuji snickered, “I don’t know how you still don’t think you’re a cat Morgana, if it looks like a cat and acts like a cat, it’s a cat!”

Morgana growled, “Don’t make me maul you in this beautiful park.”

Ryuji backed off and yanked open the cooler with a grin. “Behold! Tokyo’s finest convenience store haul. Chips, soda, and more soda.”

Ann groaned. “That’s not a picnic, that’s a sleepover snack run.”

“Hey, don’t knock it! This is classic hanami fuel.” He popped open a can with exaggerated flair.

“Classic junk, you mean,” Futaba shot back, tugging her thermos protectively closer. “Real hanami fuel is curry. Lots of curry.”

“Curry isn’t picnic food!” Ryuji protested.

“Curry is always picnic food.” Futaba smirked, already ladling some onto rice.

Haru chimed in with her own contribution: neat little sandwiches cut into triangles, garnished with herbs. “And here’s mine. Some light options for balance.”

Makoto chuckled softly. “You always find ways to take care of everyone, don’t you?”

Haru’s smile lingered. “Maybe I just like seeing people happy.”

Sumire set down a massive lacquered bento box with both hands. The lid slid open to reveal tier after tier of carefully packed food—tamago rolls, grilled salmon, even flower-shaped vegetables.

Everyone froze.

“…Sumire-chan,” Ann said, eyes wide, “this looks like a cooking show finale.”

Sumire flushed but smiled. “I just thought it would be nice if we had enough for everyone…”

Morgana purred, pawing at the edge of the tray. “At last, a meal worthy of royalty.”

Yusuke had been silent until now, sketchpad already in his lap. He gestured toward the spread with grandiose flourish. “The harmony of color and texture here is…sublime. The curve of the dango, the crisp green of the parsley—art and nourishment in perfect union.”

“You’re not even eating, you’re just sketching,” Ryuji muttered through a mouthful of chips.

“I am absorbing, Ryuji.” Yusuke pressed a hand to his chest, affronted. “One must digest with the eyes before the stomach.”

Ann smirked and leaned closer to Ryuji. “Maybe you should try that sometime.”

Ryuji choked on his soda. “H-hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Her grin widened as Ryuji spluttered, caught between a blush and indignation. The others burst into laughter, and even Sumire giggled behind her hand.

—

The laughter ebbed, leaving only the rustle of petals drifting across their blanket. Sumire fiddled with her chopsticks, staring down at the neat rows of food she’d made.

“…I’m glad you all liked it,” she said softly. “I just—sometimes I wonder if I really belong here. You all have so many stories, so many battles you’ve fought together. I came in so late. Do I really count as a Phantom Thief?”

The question silenced the group for a heartbeat. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath.

Ren leaned forward, his voice steady. “Sumire. You chose to stand with us when it mattered most. That choice makes you one of us—always.”

Beneath the blanket, Makoto’s hand brushed Ren’s, squeezing briefly before she spoke.

“We wouldn’t be complete without you,” she added with a warm smile.

Futaba pointed her chopsticks like a wand. “You’re in too deep now! No takebacks!”

That earned a few chuckles, and Sumire ducked her head, smiling despite the blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Above them as they ate, the blossoms swirled in the breeze—fragile, fleeting, but beautiful together.

Futaba turned to Ren, grinning, “So any tips for handling Kawamom - sorry, Kawakami?”

Ren groaned, “Never tell her that you know about her old job. Not only will she make your life a living hell, she’ll try to ruin mine as well. Other than that treat her well, she’s gone through enough as it is.”

Sumire smiled, “I’m excited! Miss Kawakami is such a good teacher. And now we can do morning workouts before school starts, Futaba!”

Futaba groaned, “Don’t we get up early enough as it is? Besides I look like a literal gremlin in the morning.”

Sumire giggled, “Oh I don’t know, I think you look more like a sleepy elf maiden.”

Futaba blushed and proceeded to drink directly out the curry thermos.

—

As the Thieves finished their food, they reclined on the picnic blanket, watching petals scatter in the breeze.

Yusuke caught one in his palm, studying its fragile veins. “Such fleeting beauty… and to share it with you all again. This is divinity worth cherishing—more than any false god we’ve faced.”

Ryuji stretched out with a grin. “Hell yeah! The Phantom Thieves, back together again!”

Futaba’s smile faltered. “Well…not all of us. I miss Sophia. And the old man too, I guess.”

Ren chuckled softly. “Zenkichi at least promised he’d visit with Akane sometime.” His expression dimmed. “But Sophia…I don’t know. At the start of the year, she said she had something important to do—something for herself. And then…silence.”

Futaba tapped at her tablet, frown deepening. “I’ve tried tracking her. And Ichinose too. No pings, no trail, nada. Going off the grid like that? That’s not just ‘unplugging.’ That’s…serious tech, or serious backing.” She glanced at Ren. “Whoever’s helping them…they’re way out of even my league.”

Haru reached over, resting her hand lightly on Futaba’s. “Then maybe that’s a good thing. Sophia chose this path herself, didn’t she? All we can do is trust her.”

Ren nodded, though unease lingered, quiet as the petals falling around them.

—

Yusuke gazed at the drifting petals, his sketchpad momentarily forgotten. “Tell me…do you ever miss the Metaverse?”

The group fell into thought.

“I do,” Futaba said first. “Al Azif was the coolest pyramid a girl could ask for. Plus, hacking Shadows was way more fun than homework.”

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji grinned. “William made me feel like a real pirate lord, takin’ down scumbag adults.”

“There was…a thrill to it,” Haru admitted softly, “Seeing Shadows scatter before us and our powers…it was exhilarating.”

Makoto shook her head. “I can’t say I miss it. The fact it even existed—gods trying to control humanity—that’s not something I’d ever want back.”

Sumire hugged her knees. “I wish I had more time to explore it with you all. Your stories were incredible…but it always felt wrong. Terrifying. I wonder if a positive Metaverse could exist—one built from hope instead of fear.”

Futaba perked up. “Totally possible! Strong emotions shape cognition, and yeah, negative ones are easier. But good feelings should work too, right? Love, trust, joy…”

“Precisely,” Yusuke said, striking a pose. “Darkness births art, yes, but so does love. Some of humanity’s greatest works sprang from such passion. Imagine a Metaverse spun from that radiance. And the attire—ah, nothing in this world matches its brilliance.”

Ann groaned. “Speak for yourself. Try fighting in skin-tight latex.”

“Yea but you were incredible…” Ryuji blurted before catching himself, “uh-in fights!”

Ann smirked. “You just liked staring.”

Ryuji wisely shut his mouth. “So, uh…what about you, Ren? Miss it?”

Ren leaned back, fingers brushing the grass. “Yeah. Being Joker was…the freest I’ve ever felt. Like every chain came off, and for once I could breathe. I miss that. I miss the power, and hearing my Personas answer me.” His expression darkened. “But I don’t miss being a pawn to gods. I don’t miss the deadlines, the weight of the world on us. Honestly? I’m glad it’s gone. If Yusuke’s ‘bright Metaverse’ ever exists, maybe I’d go back. But right now…I like this. Just us. Just normal life.”

A quiet settled—gentle, wistful, but unresolved.

Inside Ren felt another stirring. And this time, he heard a voice.

The Seas fracture, Trickster. Our world is not done with you. Be ready.

The voice faded, deep and resonant. Ren’s chest tightened as a name surfaced, unbidden—Satanael. His ultimate Persona…warning him. The strange visions, the cracks, the whispers — they all started to align. Too much to ignore. The thrill within him merged with his unease, and he feared that not even the falling petals—or his friends’ laughter—could calm him. He wanted to protect them from it—Makoto’s steady gaze, Haru’s bright warmth—but how could he hide something that already felt too big for him alone? The unease lingered like a shadow behind every heartbeat.

But Ren was loved. And love always pulled him back.

Makoto noticed the way his shoulders hunched, as if he were bracing against a weight he didn’t want to share. Her eyes softened—she knew that look. Reaching for his hands, she rubbed slow circles over his knuckles.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” she said gently. Not accusing, not demanding—just an opening, the kind that made it safe for him to stop carrying it alone.

He nodded, “Satanael spoke to me. More cryptic nonsense, but he told me to be ready. I don’t think we’re done with that other world...I don’t know if we ever will be.”

Makoto looked sorrowful, “You may be right. But right now there is no immediate threat. There’s no Velvet Room. Your Persona said ‘be ready,’ so all we can do is wait. I know that’s not the best feeling, but you have me, Haru, Morgana, all of us. And you’re finally home. If Satanael says to be ready, then we will. But until that moment comes, you’re allowed to rest. Let’s just enjoy all the time we have ok?”

Before he could answer, Haru leaned closer, searching his face. Where Makoto had steadied him, she caught the haunted edge in his eyes. She slipped her hand over his arm, gentle but firm.

“You don’t have to carry that look alone, Ren-kun,” she whispered. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it with you.”

Ren felt the words settle into him like a promise, and he smiled faintly. Between Makoto’s certainty and Haru’s quiet resolve, he wasn’t sure how long the peace would last—but for now, it was enough.

—

Leaning against the tree, Makoto rested her head on Ren’s shoulder while Haru quietly arranged petals in his hair.

“The blossoms are so pretty,” she said quietly, “But they fall so quickly…it’s sad.”

“Or maybe they’re beautiful because they fall.” Makoto responded.

“I know, but I wish they could last forever…” Haru sighed.

Ren drew them both into a hug. “Nothing lasts forever. All we can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. That’s why I want to spend what time I have with you two. And all of our friends.” Both girls smiled and rested peacefully on his shoulders.

He squeezed both their hands at once. Makoto didn’t pull away; instead she glanced past him to Haru, who met her eyes with a quiet, wordless understanding.

As the sun set on the friends, the very last rays touched a cluster of the falling petals. Ren watched as they lazily fell…and shifted into shards of glass. Time slowed to a halt, sound grew distant, and the glass shards sank into cracks in the ground…

Be ready Trickster…

Ren blinked, and the shards were gone. Only petals again.

Morgana, though, hadn’t relaxed. His ears flicked back, tail lashing once as he sniffed the air. Ren caught the tension, the way his little body stilled—alert, wary—before padding back to the blanket and curling up as if nothing had happened.

Ren’s chest tightened. Whatever he’d seen, Morgana had felt it too.

Haru’s grip unconsciously tightened around Ren’s arm, while Makoto’s gaze flicked between them, concern written plain on her face. For a moment, the three of them simply held close, as if bracing against something only Ren could feel.

A clap cut through the hush. Ann stood, brushing petals from her skirt with a bright smile. “Well, that was a perfect day, but we should probably get going and get a good night’s sleep before the first day of class tomorrow.”

When they began tidying, Sumire nudged Futaba with a shy grin. “Ok Futaba-san, I’ll go easy on the morning workouts. Maybe.”

Futaba groaned, but the smile tugging at her mouth betrayed her.

After everyone cleaned up around them, the friends bid each other goodbye and went their separate ways.

Ren, Makoto, and Haru lingered for one more quiet moment under the cherry tree. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” Haru whispered. And for a heartbeat, under the falling blossoms, it almost felt like they could.

But like the blossoms, no moment lasts forever. And already, the world beyond was calling.

Chapter Text

Morning in the business district was uncharacteristically quiet. A pale sun broke through the glass towers, casting long reflections across polished pavement. The café Mitsuru had chosen was discreet — wedged between a corporate bank and an office tower, the sort of place no one looked at twice.

Yu Narukami was already waiting, silver hair catching the light. He rose with the same unshakable calm she remembered from years ago.

“Punctual as always,” she said.

“And you chose a spot where no one would recognize us.” A faint smile touched his face. “You haven’t changed.”

Mitsuru folded her gloves beside the menu. “And yet everything else has.”

They ordered—black coffee for her, tea for him—and the moment the waiter left, Mitsuru’s expression hardened. Yu noticed immediately.

“Why am I here, Mitsuru?”

“Tell me about the dreams.”

Yu’s gaze flicked toward the skyline, his reflection wavering in the window’s glass.“It started two weeks ago,” he said. “A sea of glass. Fragments of memory drifting. A voice, calling from below. A few nights later, my TV turned on by itself. I saw the sea again—cracked, bleeding light.” His tone dropped. “Yesterday, I dreamt of my friends. All of them…distorted. And then Izanagi-no-Okami spoke to me. Told me to stay on guard.”

He hesitated. “No one else has felt it—not Rise, not the others. Except Marie. She says something is pressing against the borders of the TV World. She can hold it back, for now, but it terrifies her.”

His eyes met Mitsuru’s. “You know what this is. And you’ve kept Naoto close without telling anyone. Why?”

Mitsuru didn’t flinch. “Because the Sea of Souls is fracturing.”

Yu’s cup halted halfway to his lips. “The Collective Unconscious itself?”

She nodded. “A pressure has been building within the Cognitive Realm for years—remnants of every god and human will that once reshaped it. That pressure is splintering the boundary, creating distortions drawn to those most deeply linked to cognition.” Her gaze settled on him. “Wild Cards. Those touched by higher powers. Only you and others like you can perceive the cracks.”

Yu’s fingers tightened around his teacup. “Then why haven’t I heard from Margaret? If this runs that deep, she’d have warned me.”

Mitsuru’s eyes darkened. “The Velvet Room is silent. None of its attendants have answered any summons—not from your kind, nor from my monitoring division. Whatever is happening, it’s interfering with the flow between worlds.”

Yu set the cup down with a quiet click. “Then it’s bad.”

“It is,” Mitsuru said. “That’s why I need you here. We might be able to contain it before it spreads—and, perhaps, finally understand what the Cognitive Realm truly is.”

Yu leaned back, calm but assessing. “Still planning three moves ahead. What about the Phantom Thieves?”

“They’re in Tokyo,” Mitsuru said, sipping her coffee. “I’m observing them for now. I need to know who they’ve become before pulling them in. They carried a burden none of us were there to share. For now, they deserve peace.”

“If half of what I’ve heard is true, they won’t be idle for long,” Yu murmured. “And their leader, if he’s anything like me, he’ll rise when he must.”

“Perhaps.” Mitsuru allowed the smallest smile. “But I’d rather he not have to.”

Silence stretched, filled by the clink of porcelain and the hum of traffic.

“I have an operative stationed in Todai,” Mitsuru continued. “Naoto is investigating low-level anomalies. When the time comes, you’ll meet their Wild Card—but not yet. His trust in adults is…uneasy.”

Yu’s eyes softened. “Then I’ll wait until he’s ready.”

Mitsuru inclined her head. “Until we know more, we prepare quietly. If the worst comes—”

He finished for her. “We’ll be ready.”

Her phone buzzed once. Mitsuru glanced down.

Naoto: Cognitive disturbances linked to Wild Card location. Lover and Justice in play. Will report later.

Yu caught the name. “Naoto?”

“She’s been tracing interference patterns since January,” Mitsuru said. “Mostly static—until recently—”

The light shifted. Across the café window, the skyline rippled like water. Glass towers bent, shimmered—then stilled. The waiter passed by, oblivious.

Yu set his cup down. “You saw that, right?”

“Yes.” Her voice was calm, iron underneath. “And if these distortions follow Wild Cards…”

“Tokyo University,” Yu said softly. “That’s where they’re enrolled.”

She nodded once. “Then they’ll be the first to feel it.” She typed a quick message to her operative.

Mitsuru: Maintain surveillance. Engage if opportunity presents itself. Report any shift in reality signature.

Yu rose, buttoning his coat. “If the Sea of Souls is cracking, we’ll have to move fast.”

Mitsuru looked up, composed but tired beneath the surface. “Then welcome back to the front lines, Narukami. I can arrange housing if you—”

He shook his head, a small smile forming. “Rise’s apartment’s empty till her tour ends next month. I’ll stay there. And tell Naoto she can stop pretending she doesn’t know what’s going on.”

They exchanged a firm handshake.

A faint tremor passed through the ground—subway rumble, or something deeper.

Plans were in motion now, and there would be no stopping them.

A shimmer passed through the window again, gone as quickly as it came. Neither of them noticed.

Across the city, the bells of spring rang through the streets. Students hurried beneath the cherry trees, eager for new beginnings. No one noticed how, for a heartbeat, the air shimmered. None except one.

—

Ren shivered as the air rippled—for an instant, buildings warped, the sky fracturing like glass…not the most auspicious start to his first day at university. To the rest of the students on campus, the air shimmered with that familiar mixture of nerves and excitement only a new semester could bring.

Ren adjusted the charcoal scarf around his neck as his group reached the university gates. No one else noticed the disturbance, so he breathed in and refocused on his friends around him.

Beside him, Makoto looked effortlessly composed in her dark-blue skirt suit, her longer hair gleaming chestnut in the sun. Even among the sea of new faces, she stood out; purposeful, calm, and already radiating authority. She automatically steered their little group to the correct entrance, well accustomed to campus after a year of classes.

Makoto turned, her smile bright but composed. “Well…we made it. Welcome to Tokyo University—Todai, as the locals insist on calling it.”

Haru walked up beside her, a lavender ribbon dancing in her hair, her cream turtleneck tucked neatly into a mauve skirt. She put her arm around Makoto and lifted her free hand. “Kokorozashi aru takuetsu!” she said brightly—then laughed at their blank stares. “It’s on the orientation banner this year,” Haru said. “Roughly ‘Excellence with aspiration.’” As she spoke, she made sure everyone had their student passes out and straightened Ren’s slightly crooked lanyard without thinking.

Makoto laughed, “Now we’re all students together again! I expect all of you to do your best—and don’t hesitate to talk to me or Haru about anything.”

Ann stretched her arms over her head, beige coat falling open over a pale pink sweater. “Man, this feels so weird,” she laughed. “After sneaking around Palaces and Jails for so long, we’re just…walking to class like normal people.”

“Normal people don’t get recognized every five minutes,” Ryuji shot back, tugging at the strap of his sling bag. “I already caught someone whisperin’ about ‘the model from the internet.’”

Ann groaned. “Don’t remind me. I came here to study, not trend.”

Ryuji smirked. “Good luck with that.” Despite the teasing, he subtly shifted to the outside of the walkway, keeping the group together when another crowd surged past.

Makoto glanced around at the modern glass buildings and shaded courtyards. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Being here, surrounded by so many people chasing their own futures. Feels…liberating.”

Haru nodded. “Liberating, and a little bittersweet. We worked so hard to get to this peace, but part of me wonders if it can really last.”

Ryuji grinned, stretching. “C’mon, don’t jinx it! First day of college, sunshine, no Shadows in sight—I’ll take the win.”

They all laughed, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that only came when the world finally felt safe again. Everyone except Ren, who knew differently. To break his unease he asked a question, “So, what’s everyone’s first class?”

“Business ethics,” Haru replied, straightening her bag. “And a seminar on corporate sustainability. My professor sounds terrifyingly competent.”

“Constitutional law and public policy,” Makoto said. “Apparently we’ll be drafting mock legislation by midterms.”

“Orientation for us three, then our first lecture afterwards! Giant lecture halls, nothing like those stuffy Shujin classrooms.” Ann said.

“And no teachers or students threatening us.” Ren grumbled under his breath. “It’ll be nice not to be public enemy number one on day one.”

“And yet you still wear those fake glasses,” Makoto smirked, playing with his glasses.

Ren chuckled, “Well, gotta keep up appearances right? Besides, if I take them off, I’m terrified you’ll realize you can do better.”

Makoto kissed his cheek. “I already realized I can’t.” She lingered half a second longer than she used to, less shy, more certain of the affection they’d built.

They started walking again, weaving through students with tote bags and cameras, laughter echoing through the open quad. Someone nearby was tuning a guitar. Another group handed out pamphlets for the philosophy club, their slogans painted in bold black ink.

Haru paused for a moment beneath a cherry tree, petals gathering in her hair. “You know,” she said softly, “even after a year here, walking in with all of you still feels unreal. Like the version of life I wished for finally caught up.”

Makoto smiled. “That’s because we finally earned it.” Haru squeezed her arm lightly—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything they’d rebuilt.

Ren looked between them, the sunlight catching in both their eyes—Makoto’s sharp and bright, Haru’s warm and patient—and felt that same fragile peace from the hanami return for a heartbeat.

The distortion from earlier flashed in his head. Be ready, a voice echoed faintly in his memory.

He exhaled, forcing a grin. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

“Always the punctual one,” Makoto teased.

“I learned from the best,” he said, nudging her shoulder.

“Hey lover boy!” Ann yelled, “Our classroom is this way, c’mon!”

Ren gave Makoto a kiss and Haru a hug, then jogged after the others. Makoto watched him go with a faint, knowing smile; Haru tucked a loose petal into her notebook like a keepsake. Both of them looked, for a moment, utterly at peace.

They passed through the archway into the main classroom building, the crowd swelling around them—all but Ren unaware that beneath this bright morning calm, something vast was already stirring.

—

Across the city, Futaba could almost touch the vastness.

Her searches for Sophia and Ichinose had gone nowhere, but there were traces of something big brewing out there—like orphaned processes and stray packets. Little telemetry spikes that shouldn’t exist if the system’s truly idle. Every so often since Ren had come back, she’d felt sudden spikes of energy. Unnoticed, silent, but massive. Always near him. The kind of spikes she hadn’t felt since EMMA last summer.

Could it really be that…

“Miss Sakura!”

Futaba flinched. Sadayo Kawakami stood at the front of the classroom, arms folded, unimpressed.

“Eyes on the board, not on your code. At least make it to lunch before you start zoning out.”

“Hey, I haven’t even done anything yet! And if you’d let us use laptops in class, I could actually take notes! Penmanship is so last century. Submit to technological advancement!”

A few snickers rose around the room.

Kawakami sighed. “For the last time, Miss Sakura, I don’t decide the rules on classroom tech. You can take it up with the principal.”

“Lame,” Futaba muttered, sinking into her seat.

Sumire glanced over and lifted her hands into a tiny heart above her fingertips — the new style everyone used online.

Futaba blinked, then formed the classic thumb-and-index heart in return.

Two mismatched hearts, same signal. Sumire grinned; Futaba turned scarlet and faced forward, pretending to pay attention while Kawakami resumed the lesson.

Pretending didn’t last long.

She cracked her tablet open under the desk, the screen’s glow faint against the morning light. Her fingers moved in silence, reopening her diagnostic feed—EMMA’s old telemetry framework, rewritten from the scraps she’d salvaged.

Monitoring: Cognitive Energy Density—Live Ping Feed.

Normally the readings hovered near zero: the idle hum of human thought EMMA once logged for “engagement metrics.” But this morning the numbers flared—a jagged red spike that shouldn’t exist.

Not electricity.

Overlap.

“Cognition leak,” she whispered. “Two realities running on the same hardware.”

The coordinates scrolled across the bottom of the window.

Location: Tokyo University—Todai Main Campus.

Her breath caught. Then the tablet shuddered. A thin veil of static crawled over the glass like frost, colors bending at the edges. For one impossible instant she felt it — pressure, like the world itself inhaling.

Then it was gone. The numbers flattened back to zero. The clock lagged three full seconds before snapping forward again.

“Okay…that’s new,” she muttered.

A soft tap on her leg broke her focus. Kawakami stood beside her, brow raised.

“Busted,” Futaba whispered.

The bell rang before her teacher could answer. She packed up faster than a pro thief—until she heard, “Miss Sakura, can you stay behind a moment?”

“Ugh…” Futaba slumped, while Sumire gave her an encouraging smile.

“I’ll wait outside, okay? I’m sure it’s fine,” Sumire said.

Futaba trudged up to the front.

“Hi, Miss Kawakami.”

“Hi, Futaba.” The teacher sighed but smiled. “I’m not mad you spaced out—I’m used to it by now. But I want to see you focus a little more. You’re the most technically gifted student Shujin’s ever had, and I know there’s no limit to what you can do. Just…don’t tune the world out completely, alright? Sometimes the smallest details matter most.”

Futaba looked up, blinking. “Ren was right - you really do have mom energy.”

Kawakami pouted, “Hey! I am NOT that old.” Then she laughed quietly. “But I’ll take that as a compliment. And tell Ren to check in, will you? I know he’s back, and he owes me an update.”

Futaba smiled faintly. “I’ll tell him. Things are good now—Ren’s here, everyone’s together. But…” she hesitated. “Sometimes it feels like something’s waiting to change again. Like peace isn’t built to last.”

“Everyone feels that way,” Kawakami said gently. “But that’s why we make memories while we can. So when things do change, we’ve got something worth holding onto.”

Futaba smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks Becky.”

“WHAT??”

“Uh…bye!”

She bolted out before Kawakami could respond and nearly crashed into Sumire.

“Oh no! Did it go badly?” Sumire asked, steadying her.

“Nah. She just gave me a teacher talk. ‘Focus more, think about your future,’ yada yada.” Futaba waved it off, but her voice softened. “She did say something worth thinking about, though.”

They started down the hall together, sunlight filtering through the windows.

“Anyway! The sooner we finish the day, the sooner we’re at LeBlanc with everyone!”

Futaba smiled to herself. And maybe I’ll finally get some answers.

—

After orientation for Ren, Ryuji, and Ann — and morning lectures for Makoto and Haru — the group met at one of the university cafés, a sleek mix of glass and greenery that smelled faintly of roasted beans and new notebooks.

Ren was halfway through his drink when Haru suddenly waved. “Oh! Hello, Ken-kun!”

A tall young man in a neat brown sweater turned from the counter. His posture was relaxed but composed, his eyes bright and watchful. He smiled and approached their table.

“Okumura-san, good to see you again. How was your break?”

“Wonderful! Busy, but I managed to rest a little before the semester began,” Haru said warmly. “Everyone, this is Ken Amada — he’s in my and Makoto’s year. We had a few classes together last spring.”

Ren stood and offered his hand. “Ren Amamiya.”

Ken shook it firmly, his grip steady. “So you’re the famous Ren-kun. I’ve heard quite a lot — from both Makoto and Haru, actually. Sounds like you’ve all had quite the high school experience.”

Ren caught the faint knowing curve to Ken’s smile. “Yeah,” he said, smiling back, “you could say we got into some unusual extracurriculars.”

Makoto rolled her eyes. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Ken chuckled softly. “I know the feeling. Maybe we can exchange stories sometime. I’m a student rep and we’re hosting a nomikai next weekend, you all should come.”

Ryuji got very excited, “For real?! And we can drink?!”

Ken smiled and lowered his voice a little. “Officially, it’s a student mixer—food, games, that kind of thing. Unofficially…” he shrugged, “…the senpai bring drinks. Nobody asks too many questions as long as people are discreet and responsible.”

Ryuji’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah, college rules!”

Makoto groaned. “Ken-kun, are you seriously encouraging this?”

Ken laughed. “No encouragement, just… situational awareness.”

Ann smirked. “Oh, we’re aware.”

Haru giggled behind her hand. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“Sounds great, I’ll get you the info next week,” Ken looked at his watch. “Anyway, I should get going — student council meeting.” He nodded at Makoto, “You know you’re always welcome Nijima-san, we could certainly use you.”

Makoto shook her head politely, “No thank you Ken-kun, at least not right now. I have enough studying as it is and I’m trying not to overwhelm myself.”

Ken smiled. “Very fair, well if you ever change your mind let me know.”  He waved to the group. “Nice to finally meet you all.”

As he left, Ann leaned across the table. “Okay, he’s cute. Like, dangerously polite cute. What’s his deal?”

Ryuji scowled. “He ain’t that cute…”

Haru giggled. “He’s a good guy. Makoto and I met him after class last year. Funny story—he actually thought we were dating at first…”

Makoto flushed. “Haru! Not the point!”

Ryuji laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink, while Ann’s grin widened.

“Anyway,” Makoto said quickly, gathering her bag, “enough about Ken. We should get to our next classes. Meet in the cafeteria for lunch?”

Everyone nodded and started to pack up, but as the group split, Ren lingered a moment longer by the window.

The chatter of students faded behind him. His gaze followed the crowd where Ken had gone — and caught him looking back. For a second, Ren could’ve sworn the café window reflected a faint shimmer, like rippling glass.

He blinked. Gone. As was Ken.

Ren exhaled, frowning faintly to himself. That guy knows more than he lets on.

—

The lecture hall buzzed with low chatter as students filed into their seats. The room smelled faintly of chalk and fresh coffee—normal, almost comforting.

Ann leaned forward, whispering to Ren, “So, what’s the bet on how long it takes Ryuji to zone out?”

Ryuji sat up. “Hey! I’m actually gonna focus. New term, new me. Don’t laugh.”

Ann giggled. “Wow Ryuji, that’s so not like you.”

Ryuji grinned. “Well maybe I’ve grown up a little.”

“I still give you five minutes.”

“Oh come on…”

“Timer starts…now.”

Ryuji gripped his pen like a lifeline.

Ren smirked and turned toward the front—but as the professor dimmed the lights, the shadows stretched unnaturally long across the floor.

At first, it was nothing. Just the flicker of the projector. Then the darkness pooled at the base of the screen — too thick, too heavy.

Something rose out of it.

Not a person, not quite—more like the impression of one. A silhouette coiled in black smoke, featureless except for a long hat over blazing red eyes…

Trickster.

Ren’s breath caught. The air around him went heavy and thin, the buzz of students flattening into distant static. And as he looked around and down, he saw himself.

He stood there again in the long coat of the Trickster. Instinctively, he reached for his mask and pulled…

Then— blink—the lights came up again.

The shadow was gone.

No one else reacted.

Ryuji was attempting to take notes. Ann was yawning. The professor’s voice carried on, oblivious.

Ren realized he was standing.

Ryuji glanced up. “Yo, dude, you good?”

Ren sat back down slowly. “Yeah,” Ren sat, forcing a smile. “Just…thought I saw something.”

“Maybe we should’ve placed bets on Ren zoning out, huh Ryuji?” Ann teased.

Ren chuckled, but his heart hadn’t slowed. Out of the corner of his eye, the reflection in the window caught the light and for just a split second, his mask gleamed there, before fading back into his ordinary face.

—

Ren was a little upset at lunch.

The visions were especially worse today. And he couldn’t get the thought of Ken out of his mind either. Was it all connected? Or was he just going crazy? He hadn’t heard from Lavenza, he wasn’t thrown into some interdimensional realm. This was just the real world. And the shadows could only invade the real world if something was very, very wrong.

So where was the Velvet Room? Where was his means to fight?

And more urgently, what should he tell his friends?

He told Makoto and Haru yesterday, and while he hadn’t told Morgana he noticed he was acting strange whenever a vision would occur. Maybe he should’ve told Morgana earlier, he is a cognitive being after all. But the others? If they weren’t seeing the cracks in reality, should he even tell them? Especially now, surrounded by so many fellow students?

“Ren? You haven’t touched your food.”

Makoto’s soothing voice brought Ren back down from his thoughts. She looked at him, concern filling her eyes. He did his best smile for her.

“Yeah, just deep in thought. First day of classes is a lot.”

“Ren…if this is related to what happened yesterday…”

He chuckled. She was too smart for him.

“It is…but I don’t think now is the right time to talk about it. And I think I need to tell everyone…”

“How about later at LeBlanc? We’re supposed to meet everyone there anyway.”

“That’s perfect.”

He gave her a hug, letting her warm embrace soothe his thoughts.

“Man, you two sure give each other more PDA than you used to,” Ann teased.

Makoto turned to face her but didn’t let go of Ren, “Well that’s what happens when you’re comfortable with someone. I don’t care if the world sees.”

Ann sighed. “That’s so beautiful, I wish I could find someone…”

Ryuji stabbed at his curry. “So, about that nomikai Ken mentioned—think it’s gonna be all suits and speeches or actual fun?”

Ann smirked. “Knowing you, you’ll turn it into karaoke within five minutes.”

“Hey, if the vibe’s dead, I save the party.”

Haru stirred her tea, smiling. “It’ll be a lot of fun. Ken-kun said it’s open to select students and council members, so there’ll be plenty of people to meet. And we will almost certainly go to karaoke after.”

Makoto added, “Just…remember the word ‘nomikai’ literally includes the word drink. Try to pace yourself.”

Ryuji grinned. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

The table burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking.

Haru clasped her hands. “Well I can’t wait—next Friday, nomikai!”

Ryuji pumped his fist. “Operation: First College Party is a go!”

They all began packing their things.

“Well you guys should probably head out, it’s a bit of a walk from here. And kind of hard to find.” Makoto said, hugging Ren goodbye.

Ryuji smiled confidently. “Hah! Trust me, I know exactly where to go.”

—

“You should not have trusted me, I have no idea where we are.”

The three groaned as their cross campus journey ended in bitter failure.

“Great, first day and showing up late. So embarrassing…” Ann groaned.

“It’s impossible, there’s no Building Z. It’s just a myth!”

A girl giggled behind Ryuji. She was a student about their age, eyes on Ryuji.

“Sorry but do you need some help?” She asked.

Ryuji chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh yeah, we uh…well I got us lost and we can’t find Building Z.”

The girl giggled, “Well luckily that’s where I’m heading. I can get you all there.”

“For real? Thank you!”

Ren and Ann followed Ryuji and the girl.

“Not only does Ryuji have charm, it got us out of a tight spot. Good for him.” Ren said.

Ann smirked slightly, “What he talks to one girl and he has charm now? C’mon. And besides we aren’t even there yet, she might lead us astray like Ryuji.”

By the time they reached the right hall, the girl had threaded them through three courtyards and a service corridor Ryuji swore didn’t exist. She paused at the door.

“Here you go. Building Z. Not a myth, just badly signposted.”

Ryuji scratched his cheek. “Uh, thanks. I’m Ryuji, by the way. Can I—uh—get your number?”

She laughed and put her number in his phone. “Mika. Try not to get lost between here and row five.”

Ryuji watched her go and stared at his phone in disbelief. “Holy shit I love college!”

Ren slapped his friend on the back. “Good job buddy.”

Ann scoffed, “Oh please, I could get five numbers if I really wanted to.”

Ryuji groaned. “Do you really need to upstage me on the first day?”

Ann huffed. “Fine. I guess you’re not totally hopeless.”

“It’s called charisma,” he said, puffing up.

“It’s called Mika did all the work.”

“Alright friends let’s go sit down before things get worse,” Ren said, and they slipped into the lecture hall.

—

The three found seats together, but Ren noticed something was off.

Besides Ryuji and Ann, there was no chatter—just a low, electrical hum.

Students stared at their phones, faces slack, the light from the projector washing them pale.

Ren frowned. “Doesn’t this seem weird to you guys?”

Ann and Ryuji didn’t answer. They weren’t even blinking.

The hum deepened, rattling in his chest.

“Can’t…can’t you hear that?”

It built to a sickening crescendo until—

Crack.

Time stopped.

The world bled to crimson as the lecture hall warped, fissures spiderwebbing across floor and wall until they met at the center aisle.

Out of the rift stepped a figure he knew too well—tall, lean, wrapped in shadow and smoke, a long coat flaring like wings.

Arsène.

“Welcome back, Trickster,” the Mirror Arsène said, voice velvet and cruel. “We’ve missed you.”

Ren stumbled to his feet. “Who…what are you?”

The Mirror Arsène smiled. “I am thou, and thou art I. Has the fire of your rebellion waned? Have you settled into the society you once defied?”

“That—” Ren’s voice shook, anger flaring. “That’s not what the Phantom Thieves were about! We fought injustice—people who ruined lives, who corrupted the world!”

Mirror Arsène’s laughter rippled like smoke. “And you think that world has changed? Every day the wicked thrive. Every street, every system, every god-fearing fool—unchanged. So tell me, Trickster, why do you still sit in chains?”

“I…” Ren’s throat tightened. “I can’t fight them anymore.”

“Can’t?” Mirror Arsène’s grin widened. “Or won’t? You hide among the ordinary, denying what makes you extraordinary. But the Sea rises—and soon, we will be free to reshape this world.”

“What’s happening to the world? Who the hell are you!?”

“I told you.” The phantom’s eyes blazed. “I am thou.”

He lunged.

Ren dove aside—desks shattering under the blow. Chains erupted from the floor, snapping toward him like vipers.

“Look at them,” Mirror Arsène purred. “The chains you placed upon yourself! Join me. Burn it all down.”

“No!” Ren shouted, voice breaking. “No!”

A dam inside him burst. Voices rose within—familiar, warm.

Remember who you are, Trickster. Remember why you fight.

Memories crashed through him: the Thieves laughing under neon skies, Makoto’s calm smile, Haru’s warmth, the friends who’d made him whole.

Not rage. Not rebellion. Resolve.

Ren straightened, breath steady. “You’re not me,” he said quietly. “My bonds make me stronger.”

“Then you will die,” mirror Arsène hissed. “What are you now, Trickster?”

Ren smiled faintly. “A Fool.”

Blue flame ignited around him. His coat flared black; red gloves slid onto his hands; a domino mask formed across his eyes.

Joker lived again.

He raised his hand, the air trembling. “Arsène!”

The true Arsène burst from light behind him—towering, fierce, alive.

Together they faced the Mirror Arsène.

“ONE SHOT KILL!”

A pistol appeared in Arsène’s grasp; he fired once.

The bullet struck true. The Mirror Arsène shattered—glass and shadow exploding outward.

“The Sea calls, Trickster,” its fading voice whispered. “We are watching.”

The world cracked like glass—then was gone.

—

Yu Narukami stepped into Rise’s Tokyo apartment and collapsed onto the couch. The morning train, Mitsuru’s briefings, the endless talk of “fractures” had worn him thin.

Cracks, distortions—each one circling the same truth. The Wild Cards.

He wanted to tell the Investigation Team, but Mitsuru had sworn him to secrecy for the moment.

He could tell Rise, though—and would, after her show. For now, he needed quiet.

He reached for the remote.

Click. Static.

The channel changed.

A young man stood in a theater of glass, staring into darkness.

Click.

A woman in blue faced her own shadow in a realm beyond words.

Click.

Yu saw himself—on Rise’s couch, surrounded by silver light.

And behind him—

“Izanagi,” he breathed.

He turned. The Persona stood there, haloed in lightning.

“I am thou…thou art I. Why have you abandoned your duty, Hero? Did peace dull your edge?”

The world folded in on itself. Silver pillars rose, forming a cathedral of mirrors.

Yu drew his breath, steady. “Peace was the point.”

“Then why do your dreams bleed into the world?”

A dozen spectral blades rose around them.

“I am the truth you forgot. The Sea rebuilds its saints when the world falters.”

Yu dodged the first crash of steel, the shock rattling his bones. “Truth isn’t handed down,” Yu said. “It’s found. And tested.”

A familiar whisper stirred within: Seek the truth. Stop the fractures. Calm the Sea.

“Then stand, Hero,” the mirror intoned. “Prove your justice has not frozen.”

Yu’s hand tightened. A tarot card flickered between his fingers.

He crushed it.

“Izanagi!”

His Persona appeared, staring down the mirror.

“Vorpal Blade!”

Lightning split the air. The two Izanagis charged, blades clashing in a single blinding arc.

For one heartbeat, everything held.

Then the mirror fractured—silver shards exploding outward.

“The Sea comes for this world,” it whispered as the light collapsed.

—

Ren jolted back into reality.

He was standing in the center aisle of the lecture hall, breathing hard.

Every eye was on him.

“Ren!” Ryuji half-laughed, half-yelled. “What the hell, dude?! One second you’re sitting, the next you’re in the middle of the room—posing!”

Ann blinked, still staring. “Ren…are you okay?”

He exhaled, heart still hammering. “Yeah. Just…spaced out.”

He returned to his seat, ignoring the whispers. A thin crack ran through the floor where the Mirror Arsène had stood.

It wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

And somehow, he had to tell the Thieves the world needed them again.

—

Yu found himself back on Rise’s couch. The apartment was quiet, untouched—except for the television, split clean down the middle.

He sighed and grabbed his phone. “Naoto? We need to meet. Now.”

His eyes drifted back to the screen’s jagged fracture.

“Rise,” he murmured. “You’re really not gonna like that.”

—

The rest of the afternoon blurred past Ren in a haze. He couldn’t focus on a single lecture or conversation; every flicker of shadow on the walls pulled him back to the lecture hall, to Arsène’s voice echoing in his skull.

By the time classes ended, he’d made up his mind.

He texted the group chat one word: LeBlanc. Now.

The reply pings stacked almost at once. For the first time all day, Ren felt steadier. Afraid, yes, but not alone.

—

The bell above the café door chimed as Ren led the others in.

Futaba was already leaning over the counter beside Morgana, tablet open and streaming lines of data. Sumire sat at the corner booth, still in her uniform, sipping a soda.

“About time!” Futaba said, eyes darting between Ren and Makoto. “Something’s going on and I’ve got the data to prove it. Start talking, Joker!”

Ren raised his hands. “I’ll answer everything. Just—give me a minute”

Sojiro looked up from polishing a cup. The faint crease in his brow deepened when he saw Ren’s expression.

“Everyone gets a plate of curry. On the house. I’ll lock up.”

The scent of coffee and spice grounded them in the moment, even as Ren’s words threatened to pull them into something vast.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the familiar warmth of LeBlanc felt heavier—like the air itself was holding its breath.

Ren stood by the counter for a moment, gathering himself.

Then he began.

“Since I came back to Tokyo…something’s been off. First it was dreams—broken glass, a sea of light. I thought it was stress. Then I started seeing things awake—distortions, flashes in reflections. Today it went further.”

He met their eyes one by one. “I fought Arsène.”

The silence was immediate.

Ryuji blinked. “Wait—your Arsène? Like the ‘I-am-thou’ Arsène?”

Ren nodded. “He…called himself me. Said the Sea was rising again.”

Makoto leaned forward, calm but pale. “And this happened in your lecture hall? With other students around?”

“Yeah. And then everything…rewound. Like it never happened.”

Ann frowned. “So we’re talking Shadows again, right? Or something worse?”

Haru set her cup down gently. “Could this be another god’s awakening? Or the remnants of the last ones?”

Ren shook his head. “No idea. But it feels different. More personal. And it’s all coming from the Cognitive Realm.”

Futaba took her chance. “Okay, people, emergency science meeting. Pull up a chair. Preferably your brains too.”

Ryuji blinked. “Science meeting? I thought we were talkin’ about whatever freaky thing happened to Ren today!”

“Exactly,” Futaba said, fingers flying across her tablet. The screen’s glow painted her face an electric blue. “And guess what? The universe decided to leave digital breadcrumbs again.”

Makoto folded her arms. “You’ve been monitoring for something, haven’t you?”

Futaba grinned, sharp and proud. “Since EMMA’s shutdown. I repurposed its telemetry network to watch for residual cognitive energy density—basically, thought-ripples big enough to mess with reality.”

Haru tilted her head. “You can measure that?”

“Yup! Normally it’s background fuzz—people daydreaming, arguing, falling in love. And today…” She tapped a key. A graph bloomed across the screen—steady lines broken by several spikes, leading up to one massive one. “Boom. One twenty-five p.m., local time. Epicenter: Todai campus. AKA where Joker was having his afternoon lecture.”

Ren frowned, leaning in. “That’s…the moment I fought Arsène.”

Makoto’s eyes widened. “So you confirmed a measurable cognitive event.”

“Confirmed and logged!” Futaba’s grin widened. “And know what else? This wasn’t the only major event today. There were smaller spikes across Tokyo all morning. Then, right after yours, another massive surge in Minato Ward.”

Ren blinked. “Wait…it happened somewhere else? To someone else?”

“Looks that way,” Futaba said. “Same energy signature, but not identical. Like…different phrasings of the same chord.”

Makoto frowned thoughtfully. “Then we may not be dealing with a random distortion. There could be another individual resonating with the same phenomenon.”

Haru leaned forward. “Someone like Ren?”

Futaba shrugged, eyes still on the data. “If I had to guess? Another Wild Card. Or something close.”

Ren’s pulse quickened. Another Wild Card…?

Lavenza’s words echoed in his memory: You are not the only guest chosen by fate.

Maybe this was proof.

“Can you trace it?” he asked.

Futaba hesitated. “Not yet. The signal’s muddy—like it’s being masked or…folded into another layer of cognition. I can narrow the area down, but actually finding whoever caused it might take time.”

Makoto nodded. “Then we investigate quietly. We don’t know if they’re friend or foe.”

“And it gets even crazier,” Futaba said, scrolling. “I dug up partial sensor dumps buried in, of all places, the Kirijo Group archives—2009 and 2011. They don’t explain the signals, but the waveform fingerprints match: Apathy Syndrome and something called ‘The Midnight Channel.’ Same resonance band, same bleed-through pattern.”

Ryuji blinked. “So…this isn’t new?”

Futaba shook her head. “Nope. The Cognitive Realm’s been bleeding into reality for years—it just evolves each time. Different faces, same underlying source code.”

Morgana groaned. “Could you not call the fabric of reality ‘source code’?”

“Hey, everything’s code somewhere,” Futaba shot back with a grin.

Makoto glanced at Ren, her voice steady but low. “If this data’s accurate, it means the barrier between worlds really is thinning. It’s not just you seeing things.”

Haru set a gentle hand on his arm. “Then we’ll all face it together.”

Ren managed a faint smile. “Guess that’s our brand.”

Futaba leaned back, satisfied. “Look at you Ren, attracting weird energy like a lightning rod. But hey—at least now we can track it. And maybe we can start to figure out what’s going on.”

They all exchanged looks—old instincts re-igniting behind uncertain smiles.

“So,” Ryuji said finally, crossing his arms, “we gonna just sit here and wait, or are the Phantom Thieves comin’ outta retirement?”

Ren looked down at the faint shimmer of his reflection in the polished counter. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw his mask glint back.

“Not yet,” he said quietly. “We don’t even know what we’re fighting. But we’ll be ready.”

Sojiro re-emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of curry.

He set it down between them. “Eat first. Save the world after.”

That broke the tension; laughter rippled through the group.

But even as they ate, Ren caught Makoto watching him over the steam of her coffee, worry soft in her eyes.

Something had changed. The peace they’d earned was cracking—he could feel it.

—

The lights of Minato Ward shimmered like a sea of circuitry below the apartment window.

Yu stood before the cracked television, its spider-web fracture still faintly glowing with residual blue light. Naoto typed briskly on her tablet, the hum of processors blending with the muffled city beyond.

“1:25 p.m.,” she murmured without looking up. “There was another spike ten seconds earlier at Todai. Similar waveform, same cognitive resonance.”

Yu folded his arms. “Then it’s not coincidence. Two Wild Cards, two disturbances.”

Naoto adjusted her cap, the light from the screen reflecting in her lens. “Mitsuru suspected this was coming. She didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

Yu’s eyes narrowed. “Strange timing, isn’t it? The instant she brings two Wild Cards into the same orbit, reality starts to tear at the seams.”

Naoto looked up from the tablet. “You think their resonance triggered it?”

“Maybe not caused it,” Yu said, “but amplified it. The Velvet Room always said our power came from the collective unconscious. Two focal points that close together… the Sea might be reacting, like a system trying to correct an error.”

Naoto frowned slightly. “If that’s true, Mitsuru’s experiment may already be altering the balance she’s trying to preserve.”

He turned to her. “You’ve been analyzing the readings since January. Be honest—how bad?”

“Bad enough that if the distortions stabilize, we’ll have another Dark Hour situation. The Sea’s leaking, and something’s stirring under the surface.” She glanced at the TV. “Whatever you saw—it wasn’t just a hallucination.”

Yu’s gaze drifted to the reflection of his own eyes in the cracked glass. “It said I’d abandoned my duty. As if I’d left something unfinished.”

“You’ve fought gods,” Naoto said evenly. “What greater enemy could you face?”

“I don’t know. But it felt…personal.” He paused. “Like it knew me.”

Naoto finally stopped typing. “They always do. That’s what makes them dangerous.”

For a moment neither spoke. The hum of the city filled the space between them, along with the faint pop of neon from a sign outside.

Yu broke the silence. “So what now? We report to Mitsuru?”

Naoto’s fingers tightened on her tablet. “…Yes. But—” she hesitated, tone lowering— “there’s something about Mitsuru that troubles me.”

Yu looked up. “What about her?”

“There’s more to this than she’s letting on,” Naoto said quietly. “And it’s incredibly personal.”

He frowned. “How can you tell?”

“There’s trying to safeguard humanity,” she said, eyes narrowing, “and then there’s obsession. She’s not just monitoring the Sea of Souls—she’s been searching for something. For years.”

“What could she possibly be searching for? You know the story with her family. I doubt she wants to repeat the sins of her grandfather.”

“It’s not that,” Naoto replied. “It’s not something new she’s after…it’s something she’s lost.”

Yu studied her for a long moment. “Any idea what?”

“I truly don’t know,” Naoto admitted. “Everything with the Cognitive Realm is still far from stable. But be wary of Mitsuru, Yu. She’s not the type to suffer those who get in the way of her plans.”

Yu sighed, leaning back against the couch, the glow of the cracked TV painting half his face in blue.

“She’s also not the type to lose control.”

“Then perhaps that’s what scares me most,” Naoto said softly.

Outside, thunder rolled far off over Tokyo Bay—quiet, but deep enough that the window rattled.

Both of them looked up.

“We’ll keep watching. Quietly. For now.”

Naoto nodded, tapping out a message to Mitsuru: Situation stable. Distortions confirmed. Further contact inadvisable for now.

The TV flickered once, its crack glowing faintly like an open wound before fading to black.