Chapter Text
The teenager set the plate down onto the desk next to the laptop, before she pulled the chair our and gradually sat down. She stared at the bright screen for a long moment, her email inbox showing just a single unread message, marked “URGENT.” Sender unknown.
She knew exactly what it would be. More work.
Not that she was disconcerted at the prospect of continued employment, per se. Her discomfort at the email’s presence was more due to its timing. Today had been the first day of the fall term of her second year of high school. She was admittedly quite irritated that the email couldn’t have come a few days previous, or a few days thereafter. Her teachers would not be pleased to have her miss out on what would likely be at least two days to a week of school so early into term.
It certainly isn’t assisting the situation any that I have Kashiwagi-san for homeroom. Her exhausted emotion morphed to straight frustration. She’s an irritation to the class as a whole, and she seems to hold a particular grudge against me. Her mind quickly flashed with a memory that was the most likely source of the antagonism. Heat briefly flushed across her face. R-regardless, the situation is probably further aggravated by the fact that Rise-san has taken leave for the next few months for her job.
She absent-mindedly grabbed one of the onigiri from her plate, holding it near her mouth. She still didn’t eat, though, continuing to stare at her laptop screen.
To be honest, if the student population hadn’t reduced so drastically over the past few months, I might not have been moved to Class 2.
Not that the change was wholly unpleasant, mind. She did already have acquaintances in her new class makeup, and even a couple friends. Konishi-san—Naoki-kun, he insisted she call him—sat directly behind her. His friendship with Yu the previous year had done wonders for him; where he had once been withdrawn and resentful, he now possessed a far warmer personality. Perhaps it had something to do with finally being able to grieve his sister.
Saki Konishi. The name echoed in her mind. The high school student who was the second of the strange murders that I had been sent to help investigate. A year ago, it had just been another name, another victim, in a long list of disembodied names to her. Now…it had meaning. It was personal, human.
She smiled in spite of herself. That was an excellent summation of one of the most important changes in her life over the past year; people—individuals—had become—important—to her. Friends.
She looked at the still-uneaten onigiri in her hand.
Other names had become important to her—had become her friends. They had just been names in a file, faces to observe—and at a distance, people to interrogate. Until her desperation to find the truth—and sheer stubborn pride—had resulted in her making herself bait for a kidnapper and presumed murderer, and had only been saved from death by the very people she had kept at such a distance.
And, now, she’d remained in town, chose to live there—at least through high school—because of those people. Her friends.
She sighed at the onigiri. She placed it back on the plate. Maybe she wasn’t really hungry. She hadn’t eaten since lunch—and it was almost ten, now—but….
I have to eat it sometime tonight, though, she insisted to herself. It would be impolite otherwise. He refused to say so, but she knew that he’d made the onigiri himself. He gave some to Koni—to Naoki-kun, too.
But….
But…what? She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her hands clasped against her chin. But, he had acted funny? That was not particularly bizarre behavior for him, at least when she was around. She figured it was likely due to him still being unsure how she wanted him to treat her; not everyone had exactly adapted in a rapid manner to discovering that the famous Detective Prince was actually a girl. Some students even ridiculed her for it; some still did.
No matter. Their opinions were of little consequence; they were civilians, minors, and had little say in the well-being of her career.
The police department, however….
She sighed again. It didn’t accomplish anything to dwell on this. She needed to at least learn what was in this email, before she could make a decision on how to handle it.
The first thing that caught her eye when she opened it was that it was sent by Detective Kurosawa. She’d worked with him earlier, during the spring, when she’d performed a brief observation on the Shadow Operatives. He was forwarding this information to her, and the second thing that stood out told her why.
Suspected Shadow activity.
There were only a few clues that pointed to any link to Shadows. Two, to be exact. But, it was enough.
Worse, this was worldwide.
There had been a series of kidnappings. Several countries, all of them occurring within the same two-hour window. It was theorized that it was actually within a single hour, but some of the missing subjects had longer time gaps where they had been alone. And vulnerable.
She shook her head, fighting back the memory of the overly-sweet aroma.
One of the kidnappings had left behind a single speck of evidence. A small fragment of an unknown substance. Which had covertly been discovered to be the remains of a Shadow, just like what would sometimes be left behind when the Investigation Team—including herself—would defeat one.
Then, in a case officially thought to be completely unrelated, there had been an unspecified disturbance in a city relatively close to Inaba, on the other side of Okina. Something about a damaged building and a strange figure who had apparently attacked a few people—no casualties, and the victims were more emotionally shaken than anything. The incident had occurred late the previous night; there was absolutely no consistency from the witnesses on what the suspect had looked like. Short, tall, fat, scrawny, they couldn’t even agree if it looked or sounded like a man or a woman.
Not that she had any right to fault them for that.
What stood out most, though, was what had been discovered in the damaged building’s rubble: another Shadow fragment—this one cloth—and—
A Plume of Dusk.
She knew this term. It had something to do with the Anti-Shadow robots that the Kirijo Group had developed. Something about it serving as a core; she didn’t exactly have access to their records to know the full story.
It was just a fragment of one, though. It almost hadn’t been found in the rubble at all.
Did this implement the Kirijo Group in any way? There was no information on the Plume beyond its discovery and identification.
Kurosawa and those in Public Safety attached to the cases suspected a connection, and the proximity of the more recent one meant that she might cross paths with whatever was happening.
“Solely to inform you of possible activity,” she spoke for the first time since she’d come home to her empty apartment that night. So, they weren’t directly asking her to get involved. No doubt, the Shadow Operatives were already on the case; this seemed to fall more under their jurisdiction. It was solely information, just in case whatever it was managed to affect Inaba. She—and likely the rest of the Team—would need to know to keep alert.
Well. At least she wouldn’t have to miss any school. She knew that she was going to have trouble sleeping tonight, as it was.
More Shadows.
On one hand, it filled her with a sense of excitement. Childish emotion, really, but natural. The murder case the previous year and the fight against Shadows had brought her friends together in the first place. Of course, getting to fight alongside them again was an appealing prospect. Even the fight itself, the summoning of a Persona, the utilization of its skills, it filled one with an energy that bordered on euphoric.
Or, she allowed herself another smile, maybe that’s just me. Though, Yosuke-senpai did say that Yu-senpai seemed to get the same rush, at least.
Regardless, this was a matter that the rest of the Team needed to know about. Though, without Yu and Rise, they probably wouldn’t be able to do as much.
Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to.
Though, she knew better. If there was any chance that this could affect them, it likely would. History showed it to be the way things worked.
She flipped open her phone. She started to scroll through her limited contacts. Just as she stopped at Hanamura-san—she’d never changed the contact name?—the screen changed to an incoming text.
Kanji-kun.
She blinked for a moment, glancing quickly at the uneaten onigiri on the plate. A sudden wave of guilt washed over her, unbidden, and she grabbed one with her free hand, taking a bite.
Pork, she identified the filling. Even cold, it’s…more than acceptable. I shall have to thank him again in the morning, even if he refuses to hear it. The boy was still very odd.
She opened the text, continuing to eat.
Naoto, will you please text Naoki and tell him that you’re all right. Dude won’t shut up. I just want to sleep.
She exhaled slowly. There was a rather annoying burning in her gut that told her that it was very unlikely that Naoki-kun was concerned, but she opened her message box anyway.
Yet, sure enough…
Hey, Naoto-kun. Checking that you’re okay from today. Kashiwagi was completely out of line. Wrong, too. For what it’s worth.
She blinked at the screen.
Naoto had completely forgotten that she’d left rather…abruptly after school ended early for start of term. It had actually had nothing to do with the utterly moronic things Kashiwagi had said—or, more accurately, implied—during class. She’d simply wanted to get to the bookstore to pick up a new arrival. And Kanji had been highly stiff and unresponsive.
Perhaps she should have asked one or both of them to accompany her?
I’m still not very skilled at this.
She sighed, finishing the first rice ball.
I AM FINE. I HAD 2 GO SOMEWHERE.
Hopefully, that would be the end of…
No, she shook her head. That won’t be enough.
THX 4 CONCERN. NIGHT.
There. Much more appreciative, and ended the conversation smoothly.
Naoto admittedly hated abbreviating anything in her text messages. But, the point of a text was to get information across simply and quickly. It was more efficient in this manner.
Still, every message she sent made her scowl.
Naoto looked at her laptop. She needed to tell the others about this, but it would be easier during a meeting, like they’d had during the murder investigation. She had considered texting Yosuke-senpai to get the group together—another reason she abbreviated her messages was that it saved money—but, now….
For the sake of efficiency, she told herself.
She looked back at the remaining rice ball on the plate. Her scowl softened to a thin smile. She brought up the conversation marked Kanji-kun again.
HE KNOWS NOW. CAN YOU GET GROUP 4 TOMORROW? JUNES?
It only took a few moments for a response.
Sure thing. ‘Sup?
EMAIL. EXPLAIN LATER.
She shook her head. That’s way too abrupt. They’ll only worry all night.
THX AGAIN 4 FOOD. GOODNIGHT.
She didn’t have to look at the response to know what it said.
She looked at the wall next to her desk. A year ago, it was covered with documents and photos involving her investigation on the Inaba murder case. There had also been documents on what little information she’d had on the related disappearances, as well as covert photos of the group of teenagers that included said disappearances. The Investigation Team.
Now, the wall was far more bare, containing only a few documents—some still involving said case, such as Adachi’s testimony and incarceration—and a few, new photos. One was from this summer, when Yu had come to visit, of the entire Investigation Team. Including her.
Her friends.
Naoto smiled again. She’d gone from investigating them, to investigating with them, to simply being with them. All because she’d accepted a case that had intrigued her. She adjusted the photo, leveling it straight again.
That reminds me. She reached to her bag, and pulled out the thin envelope she’d found among the mail earlier. She pulled out the picture in it. Naoki-kun insisted on this when we arrived this morning. How he managed to get it printed and to me by the time I got home is a mystery I’ll probably never solve. She allowed herself a chuckle. Naoto taped the new photo on the wall, next to the group one.
Naoki had taken it with his new phone—only adding to the mystery of how he had it printed so fast—and thus he was slightly more in the forefront, his arm extended out-of-frame. He was wearing the summer uniform, though the shirt’s top button was undone, revealing the blue undershirt beneath. Next to him, with a look of mild surprise, was Naoto herself, seated at her school desk. She still dressed in Yasogami’s boys’ uniform. Not that she was wholly uncomfortable in women’s clothes anymore, just….
It was easier, really. And she still felt far more comfortable in pants than a skirt. She currently only wore the latter among her closest friends, the Team.
Not to mention the other students might…react in an egregious manner if I were to stop, er, binding all at once.
She didn’t bind her chest as tightly for school, anymore, either, allowing for a… suggestion of her shape under the summer uniform. It would be much less obvious with the winter uniform’s jacket, but in the short-sleeved shirt, it was—well, much more difficult to mistake her for a boy anymore, especially considering her hair had grown a short length since spring.
Which is supposed to be the point, she reminded herself. I’m trying to ease myself into this. I doubt I’ll ever be… traditional. But….
On the other side of her from Koni—Naoki-kun—sat Kanji, a much more strained expression on his face, despite the smile. He was seated at his desk, half-turned to face the camera. He was still refusing to wear the proper school uniform—not that Naoto had room to complain—though the sleeveless shirt he wore was a solid black without any design, unlike what he used to wear to school—or anywhere else. His hair was no longer bleached nor brushed back, his black bangs sweeping forward to just above his glasses. Though, they certainly didn’t hide the scar by his left brow. He still had his multiple piercings, as well, and he took no method to cover the skull tattoo on his left shoulder. His expression was a variation of the one he’d had all day: a flawed attempt to hide discomfort of some sort, though Naoto had no idea what the source of such discomposure could be.
One mystery at a time, she sighed to herself. She picked up the remaining onigiri and started eating it, as she returned her gaze to her laptop. For now, I should scour these documents for everything that could have any amount of relevance.
Tomorrow promised to be interesting, if nothing else.
…
…
She finally stopped running, under the awning over a back door. The pouring rain was finally off of her back. She’d stuck to back alleys since the previous night, until she’d come to the edge of the city. She had kept going, through the woods and farms of the countryside, until she’d come to yet another city. Now, still in the back alleys and side streets, she figured she was far enough away to rest and take stock.
Take stock. She repeated the words to herself. She couldn’t remember much.
Take stock, she repeated again. What do I know? She sat down on the step, watching the rain fall. She looked at herself. She was dressed in a full-body jumpsuit, black with bright green detailing. Her shoes—more like slippers with thick soles—were severely frayed, barely holding together at this point. I have been running for near on a full twenty-four hours, now, with barely any pause. She’d stopped a few times, in the woods mostly, to give her muscles a chance to take a metaphorical power nap, and to drink from the river. I only made it this far because I stayed hydrated, she knew, but I’m quickly reaching my limits here.
She held her hands, cupped, out in the rain. Once they were filled enough, she pulled them back and gratefully drank. She then filled her hands again, and poured this batch of water down her neck, shivering slightly as it ran under her clothes and down her back.
Okay. I’m wearing this…stuff. But…who am I?
She looked at herself again. She stood up and compared her height to the door behind her. I’d say I’m over five-and-a-half feet tall, but probably under six. In centimeters, that would be….
She shook her head. Completely irrelevant. She scratched her head. I have shoulder-length hair, and it’s extremely annoying to run with. My arms seem relatively unharmed, and I have a fair amount of muscle on both them and my legs.
She looked at herself in a puddle.
Let’s be honest, I have to be pretty muscular and fit all over to have made a run like that. So, I know that about me. But… no name.
She scowled. Somehow, that didn’t bother her. She didn’t need a name. Let others figure that out.
She couldn’t really remember much of what had happened to her before the past twenty-four hours or so. Mostly snippets, and even trying to drudge those up just caused severe headaches. Maybe it was something she shouldn’t push at the moment. To be honest, she didn’t even have the slightest idea where she was.
Take stock, she reminded herself again. What can I remember, and what can I figure out? What do I need next?
As for her memory, she remembered suddenly finding herself amidst the rubble of a half-destroyed brick wall, a broken metal pipe with jagged edges in one hand. Her vision and thoughts had been muddled and foggy at first—maybe she had been drugged, and was coming out of it? She wasn’t sure, but she had acted rather…rash. She vaguely remembered feeling threatened and lashing out with her makeshift weapon. She was fairly confident that she hadn’t killed anyone, but it was still enough that people would be after her.
She couldn’t be caught, yet, though. Not until she figured out what was going on. She had disposed of the pipe in the river while she was in the woods. She hoped that would buy her more time.
And now, here I am. But, where is here?
She stepped out into the rain, keeping her back against the wall and inching alongside it until she could peer around the building and down the side street. At the end, she could see the intersection to a main street. There were bright, neon lights there, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to them.
She inhaled sharply when she realized she couldn’t read any of the signs she saw.
I may not know where home is, she thought, but it’s clear that I’m very far from it.
Relax, she held one hand to her chest. Surely, there’s going to be a sign that’s translated into a language you do know. Right?
She carefully walked down the alley to another side street. She looked down it, spotting another series of signs she couldn’t read. She scoured them, until she did manage to find one that had its meaning translated underneath the main sign. Okina Station.
Okina? She shook her head, trying in vain to get water out of her hair. Rain still dripped down the strands into her face. That’s definitely a foreign city. Well, foreign compared to my homeland. Now, I’m the foreigner. But, why am I here? How did I get here?
First, which country am I in, exactly?
She inched slowly to the edge of the alley. She heard a small group of people—no, more likely a couple—walking nearby. They stopped just out of view. Convenient.
She made her breath as silent as possible, straining her hearing to eavesdrop.
“At least with term starting, there will be a lot less kids out there, making trouble all day.”
“Oh, don’t even start. You’re fond of those three that hang around the shop during break, and you know it.”
Her lungs froze.
She knew that they weren’t speaking English, somehow, but… she understood them as if they were. But… how?
She tried to dig through her foggy memories, trying to figure out what might have caused this sorcery. All she got for her trouble, though, was another pulse of agony through her skull. Her veins burned. She stumbled back into the alley, retreating into the shadows again. Nausea overwhelmed her. She tried to get as far from the lights and people as she could, before she heaved.
She didn’t think that she could throw up again, not after her two bouts of it last night. Nonetheless, she vomited the same, black sludge once again.
What the hell is going on? She barely kept from snapping into a panic, as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
RELAX! She shook her head, exhaling deeply. Do what you can, as you can. First, I need to find a way to stay safe and alive. Especially after throwing up three times in the past twenty-four hours—at least—I’m definitely going to need to eat something. Something with protein or carbs might be a good thing to start with, a burst of energy to keep me going.
Next, I’m going to need to find someplace safe and sheltered to sleep.
After that, I will need to find money. I’m going to need to get better food to stay alive, eventually a comfortable place to hide out. I’m also going to need clothes. Preferably something that will keep my gender ambiguous. They’ll be looking for a woman.
She stumbled through the alley, until she came to a trash bin near a back door. She started digging through it. It’s not likely but… She trailed off, just before her eyes widened. Really?
She pulled a small, unopened plastic package out of the trash. It contained something that resembled a pastry of some sort.
I think I know about this, she racked her brain. I think… this is… what is it called? Pan, or something? That’s… that’s Japanese for bread, right? Which means that the writing on this package—and, presumably, the signs—is probably a form of Japanese. Though, I have no idea what writing system is used here, nor what it says.
But…I can understand the spoken form. It’s as clear to me as if spoken in English.
Which gives me another clue to my identity. I speak English as my native tongue. Which narrows my own country of origin. It’s still quite a list, but…. It’s something.
But, this means that I can deduce that I am likely in Japan.
She looked at her reflection again in a nearby puddle.
And, I am very clearly not Japanese. My facial structure, my tanned skin tone. And, I’m tall for a woman in most countries to start with. I’m definitely tall for a Japanese woman. I might even be tall for the average man. I stand out. This is bad.
This is really bad.
I’m going to need clothes that disguise my gender, or at least make it harder to determine at a glance. And, I’m going to need sunglasses. Large ones. I’ll need to obscure my face, however much I can.
But, if I try too hard, I’ll just stand out even more. She sighed.
One thing at a time. I have food for now. Next, I need someplace to sleep.
The sound of footsteps in water made her turn sharply.
She locked gazes with a dog—an Akita, she believed—who had stopped to look at her. The golden-furred animal held a half-eaten chicken leg in its mouth. It tilted its head at her, whining in curiosity.
She started to walk towards it. It turned and calmly walked down the alley.
Maybe it knows someplace dry to sleep. She theorized.
A memory flashed in her mind—one that didn’t cause pain, for once.
Yes, she’d slept with strays on the street before, hadn’t she? Well, she had no qualms about smelling like wet dog in the morning. She’d be replacing her clothes, anyway. Somehow.
One thing at a time.
She’d find a dry place to eat and sleep. Then, in the morning, she’d find money and clothes. If she understood Japanese, then maybe that same sorcery would allow her to speak it. Then, she’d find some way to get further away from where she’d started. A small, rural town would be best. It made little sense, really, but that made it the best place to hide.
Go where they don’t expect you to be.
Then, she’d try to piece her life back together.
In the morning.