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vgckwb · 4 years ago

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P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 46: Sunset, Sunrise

On the final day of Madarame’s exhibition, a surprise press conference was called by Madarame himself. As it started, Madarame was crying his eyes out. “People of Japan! I have to apologize!” He cried out. “I am not worthy of your admiration. The artist Madarame is nothing more than a sham. Most of my masterpieces, including the Sayuri, are not my own. I robbed my students of their art, and claimed it as my own. To keep this all under wraps, I intimidated my students, and I sometimes even abused them.”

Everyone present at the press conference was shocked. Meanwhile, Madarame’s eyes continued to flow like faucets left on. He continued speaking. “In fact, the real author of the Sayuri died before they could claim it as their own. I took it in an act of desperation, and jump-started my meteoric rise to the top of the artwork on the backs of my students, who are more deserving than I am.” He continued to cry his eyes out. Members of the press tried to ask further questions, but Madarame had lost control of himself and continued bawling.

Meanwhile, several people were watching the press conference on the big TV in the Shibuya crossing. It cut to a reporter reporting from a desk. “This shocking confession comes soon after Madarame’s home was broken into. The burglar in question was a former student of Madarame’s. However, as part of this confession, Madarame has decided to drop all charges against said student.

Furthermore, a little while after the break in, Madarame’s exhibit was the target of this message; A letter supposedly sent by The Phantom Thieves. This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. While there are many who still are skeptical of the existence of these thieves, some are beginning to think that such a group may be real.

Needless to say, Madarame has been put under arrest. Due to Madarame’s age, he is being taken to the hospital for a full assessment of health. Once complete, he will be tried and sentenced.”

Among those watching at the Shibuya crossing was a boy in a coat and shoulder-length brown hair. “Phantom Thieves.”

Makoto was also watching. “The Phantom Thieves. Again. Hm.”

Another person in the crowd was Nakanohara, the person who led the Phantom Thieves to Madarame in the first place. He let out a single tear, as he quietly said “Thank you, Phantom Thieves.”

Meanwhile, the thieves were at their hideout. “Alright! Another success!” Ryuji shouted.

“Ryuji!” Ann said. “Not so loud!”

“Sorry” Ryuji said. “But more people are talking about us, eh.”

Yusuke looked onward. “Are you doing OK Yusuke-senpai?” Sumire asked.

Yusuke snapped out of his stupor. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

Everyone looked at him. “What’s up?” Ryuji asked. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

“Well… How do I put this?” Yusuke asked. “I’m glad that Madarame is finally paying for his crimes...but…” He sighed. “Living with Madarame, and everything that came with it is everything I’ve ever known. It’s just weird is all. I feel like what’s in front of me is this blank empty space.”

“Oh, uh, sorry” Ryuji said.

Sumire placed a hand on his shoulder. “I get it. That kind of thing can be hard. But it can bring about new good things too.”

Yusuke smiled. “You’re correct. In a way, that blank empty space is much like a canvas just waiting for a masterpiece.”

“I hope there’s room for us in that masterpiece you call life” Ren remarked.

“Hm. Of course” Yusuke said. “I cannot thank you enough for everything you did. Therefore, I humbly request to be a permanent member of the Phantom Thieves.”

Everyone else was surprised. “You don’t have to request anything,” Ren answered, smiling.

“Yeah, as far as we’re concerned, you’re already one of us,” Morgana added.

“I thank you,” Yusuke replied.

“So, ummmm” Ann said. “Do you still want to paint me?”

“Hm?” Yusuke said. “Well, I wouldn’t say that’s out of the question, but I don’t think now’s the best time to do that.”

“Right,” Ann said. She smiled. “Well, if you need me, you just have to call.”

“Just make sure you don’t do too good a job,” Ryuji said. “Otherwise the professional photographers she deals with will have your head.”

“Ryuji!” Ann said, shoving him playfully. Ryuji laughed.

“My, what a marvelous couple” Yusuke said.

Ryuji and Ann looked at him and turned cherry red. “What are you talking about?” Ryuji said, nervously.

“Y-Yeah. We’re just friends” Ann insisted.

“Really?” Yusuke said. “Huh. I guess I’m seeing the world in new ways. I apologize.” Ren and Sumire shared a snicker. Meanwhile, Morgana was frazzled. Jose noticed this and started scratching his ears. As much as Morgana didn’t want to enjoy it at that moment, he couldn’t help but smile.

After Morgana was placated, Jose stopped, turned to Yusuke, and said “So, do you need help moving into the dorms?”

“Hmmm” Yusuke thought. “Well, there’s a swath of police over at Madarame’s as we speak, collecting evidence. I assume that whatever’s left will be ‘my’ stuff, and I don’t know how much that is for sure though.”

Well we can go over and check it out” Jose said, optimistically.

“I’d like that,” Yusuke said.

“Wait!” Sumire interrupted. “If the police are there, will they find the treasure?”

Everyone was alerted, as no one had thought of that. Well, aside from Yusuke. “While I don’t know what on the periphery is mine versus Madarame’s, I know for certain a few things are, and the real Sayuri is hidden among them. We should be fine.” Sumire sighed a sigh of relief.

“So, what’s gonna happen to Kosuke?” Ann asked. “The news said that Madarame had dropped all charges against him.”

Yusuke nodded. “He actually contacted me soon after that, but before we all met up here. He said he was going to move to Sendai to start over.”

“I’ve been there before for some gymnastics competitions, '' Sumire said. “It’s quite lovely.”

“But, uh, what’ll he be doin’?” Rji asked.

“Apparently, another one of Madarame’s former pupils lives there,” Yusuke said. “He’s going to move with him, and he’s talking about this with the boss of his security company for a possible transfer.”

“I see,” Ann said.

“So, what do you think about the Phantom Thieves’s popularity now that we took down another baddie?” Ryuji asked.

“Hmmm” Ren thought. “Well, I think we can get deeper into Mementos now,” she remarked. “But as for what people think, it’ll take time.”

“Huh,” Ryuji said.

“So, how does this work now?” Yusuke said. “Do you have another target in mind?”

“Not really,” Morgana said. “Finding people to change their hearts requires legwork. And there’s no guarantee that the person would have a palace.”

“Meaning he pushes that onto us” Ryuji snided.

“Hey I found one person,” Morgana said.

“By almost getting kidnapped!” Ryuji retorted.

“That’s not the point!” Morgana said.

“Morgana stays with me most of the time” Ren said, trying to cool tempers. “So while he could go off and find leads, he’s better off staying with me in case anything happens.”

“Yeah!” Morgana said, only mostly confident in himself.

“...I guess that’s fair,” Ryuji relented.

“We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, senpai,” Sumire said, giggling. Yusuke noticed Sumire’s slight blush, but decided not to make another remark, on the chance that it would spark another awkward moment.

“So” Jose interjected, “while we’re waiting, do you want to head over to the shack to grab your things now?”

Yusuke nodded. “Unless we have other business to attend to.”

Ren shook her head. “I just wanted us to meet up to make sure the confession went smoothly.”

“I certainly think it did,” Yusuke said.

“Oh yeah” Ann said. “Did Madarame ever say anything about the people he’s worked with?” Ann said.

“Sadly no” Yusuke said. “He was more caught up in his own dealings, rather than this apparent group.”

“I see,” Ann said. Ann was shaking a little, hesitant to ask what else was on her mind. “Well, did he give a reason as to why he said he let your mom die when according to the Will Seeds he didn’t?”

Yusuke grew more serious. “No, but I’ve been thinking about that. I think it has something to do with Madarame’s vanity. He has to be the most of whatever he’s embodying. He’s either the best artist of the modern age, the most heinous man he can be, or, as evidenced by the confession, the most remorseful. Him saying he let my mom die is his way of aggrandizing his own villainy.”

“Woah,” Ryuji said. “That’s...a lot.”

“Indeed,” Yusuke said. There was an awkward silence. “Well, we should get going, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Ren said.

“Hey, maybe we can find out if the police know anything,” Jose said, shifting the conversation. “Either about Madarame’s contacts, or any possible future targets.”

“My, you’re quite the thinker,” Yusuke said. “Very well. Let’s head off. Until next time!”

“Later” Jose said. The two of them headed to Madarame’s shack. The rest headed home for the evening.

Once the police left, Yusuke and Jose messaged the group.

Yusuke: I’m afraid we’ve had no such luck.

Ryuji: Wha?

Jose: While we were with the police, we didn’t hear anything about Madarame’s contacts.

Yusuke: We did hear some mumblings about drugs getting passed around Shibuya, but that’s about it.

Jose: No name, no nothing.

Ann: Well, that kind of stinks.

Ryuji: Do you think the police might be involved with the people Madarame was talking about?

Ren: As someone who was wrongfully arrested, I wouldn’t put it past them.

Yusuke: Hmmm.

Yusuke: Well, I don’t know if it would have come up much anyway.

Yusuke: Nothing about Madarame's palace was about this cabal anyway.

Sumire: So, stealing his treasure wouldn’t reveal much about it?

Yusuke: Precisely.

“That’s not a bad call, actually,” Morgana said.

Yusuke: And if the police are in on it, that part might get swept under the rug.

Ryuji: So, we’re basically back to square one?

Ren: Not quite.

Ren: We’re still the Phantom Thieves. So long as we’re out and about, we have the power to undermine whoever is abusing the metaverse.

Ryuji: I see. So we’ll be a constant thorn in their side! I love it!

Ann: But maybe we should be careful.

Ann: I mean, if these people are causing the mental shutdowns, and possibly have the police in line, then we’re dealing with some really heavy hitters.

“That’s true…” Morgana said. “Lady Ann’s so smart.”

Ren: Morgana says you’re smart Ann.

“What?!” Morgana said, panicking.

Ann: Tell him thank you. Morgana started blushing and muttering unintelligibly.

Yusuke: While that may be true, there are a lot of people who still don’t believe in us yet.

Yusuke: I’m sure if we can play our cards right, we can use that to our advantage as well.

Ryuji: I hear that. We gotta make sure that they'll never see us comin’!

Ren: We can’t forget about Eris and her deal as well.

Ann: Right.

Jose: Isn’t Eris’s whole thing to build us up to either side with her or fight with her?

Ren: Well, yeah. But it’s still important to remember that.

Ren: Besides, Eris is the emissary of chaos. She won’t hesitate to disrupt anyone’s plans so long as it suits her needs.

Ann: Yeah.

Ann: So the best thing to do is keep a steady head.

Ren: Yeah.

Yusuke: Well, sorry we couldn’t find anything useful.

Ryuji: Nah, it’s fine. It was probably a long shot anyway.

Jose: We should head to Kosei and get you settled in.

Yusuke: You’re right.

Yusuke: Good night.

Ryuji: G’night.

Ann: Good night.

Sumire: Good night.

Ren: Good night.

Ren set her phone down and laid in her bed.

Meanwhile, at the prosecutor’s office, the woman who was intimidating Sojiro was working on a laptop. As she was, the young man in the coat came in. “Ah, Niijima-san,” he said. “Working late again, I see.”

Niijima looked up from her computer and glared at the boy. “Akechi-san. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was just hoping for some friendly chit-chat,” Akechi responded.

Niijima continued working away. “Those Phantom Thieves stuck again.”

“I saw that,” Akechi noted. “I believe your sister was in the crowd at the Shibuya Crossing when the confession was airing.”

Niijima glared at him once again. “Do you WANT to irritate me?”

“Not at all,” Akechi said. “Like I said, I want this to be friendly.”

Niijima continued to glare for a bit, and then relented. “So, what did you wish to discuss?”

“Well, I’m assuming that you believe that these so-called ‘Phantom Thieves’ are the ones behind the mental shutdowns,” Akechi surmised.

“I do,” Niijima answered. “The M.O. matches up.”

“Well, about that,” Akechi said. Niijima was curious. “While it’s true that the Phantom Thieves cause a change in behavior, as do the mental shutdowns, the examples we have from the Phantom Thieves don’t match the examples we have from the mental shutdown cases. Besides, why start signing their work now?”

“Maybe they think they can get away with it,'' Niijima answered.

“Well, I guess that’s one way of thinking,” Akechi said.

“And you think that these two are unrelated?” Niijima asked.

“Well, not entirely,” Akechi said. “I believe the tactic used is similar, but I think they’re being used by two different groups.”

“Hm” Niijima grunted. “No matter. Even if your hypothesis is true, it’s still worth investigating them. If they know how to operate similarly, they might have an inkling who’s behind the shutdowns.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Akechi relented. “Still, you are awfully focused on this.”

“Your point being?” Niijima snapped back.

Akechi smiled. “With such a one-track mind, you might not be able to see what’s going on elsewhere.”

Niijima glared at him once more. “You’re one to talk.”

“Harsh. But true” Akechi said. “Maybe it’s time we find some life preservers before we both drown in our work and insecurities.”

“Maybe,” Niijima said. She went back to clacking away on her laptop.

“Well, good night Niijima-san,” Akechi said.

“Good night Akechi,” Niijima replied. Akechi started leaving. Before he fully left, he looked over Niijima once more. He was concerned, but couldn’t do much. He left.

The next day, after school, the announcements came on. Principal Kobayakawa began speaking. “Ahem. Attention students of Shujin Academy. Please meet in the gym for an assembly.”

“I wonder what this is about?” Morgana pondered. Ren shrugged and headed over with the rest of her class.

When everyone assembled, Kobayakawa took the stage once more. “As you may know, recently one of our faculty was caught up in a scandal.” There was some muttering about this, mostly about the disingenuousness of the principal. “However, the school wishes for you to continue learning, and to continue to have the best possible education. So, while we are looking for a permanent staff member, someone has agreed to be the interim gym teacher here at Shujin Academy.” There were some more murmurs. “Please welcome, Coach Chika Hiraguchi!”

Kobayakawa moved away as Coach Hiraguchi took the stage. Students were confused, but clapped anyway. “Thank you, Principal Kobayakawa,'' she said. She turned to address the students. “I know how difficult things have been here recently. That is why I don’t expect to have your trust right away. However, I do wish that for the time I am here I can prove worthy of your trust. I look forward to working with you, and making sure your school life is as good as it can possibly be.” She bowed. “Thank you.” The students clapped. From some of the mumblings Ren heard, they seemed to be impressed with her professionalism.

Kobayakawa took the stage again. “Yes. And thank you, Coach Hiraguchi.” He faced the students. “Please make sure to help Coach Hiraguchi feel welcome. You are dismissed.”

After the assembly, the Shujin-based Thieves met up. “So, your gymnastics coach is teachin’ here now?” Ryuji asked.

Sumire nodded. “Remember that day the principal called me to meet with him. It was decided then. As long as she’s here, I can continue as an honors student with all that brings.”

“You feeling alright?” Ren asked.

“Yeah,” Sumire answered. She sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s nice, but… it just feels weird. It seems more and more apparent that the world is moving without Kasumi, and that…” Sumire didn't have to finish the sentence. Ren wrapped one arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, rubbing her arm in an effort to calm her down. “Thanks. … I think I’m going to go practice with Coach today.” Ren nodded and let go. Sumire headed off.

“I should go too,” Ann said. “Shiho and I made plans for some one-on-one time today.”

“Really?” Ryuji said. “Well, I can’t complain, I guess. Have fun.”

“Thanks,” Ann said. She left to meet up with Shiho.

“I should get going too,” Ryuji said. “I’ve got something I need to do. Oh, but maybe you should buy some gym clothes.” Ren was confused. “I found a good place for a workout, now that our secret area isn’t so secret anymore.”

Ren nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“OK. Thanks” Ryuji said. “Seeya!” He rushed off. Ren decided to take Ryuji up on his offer and shopped for some workout clothes. After which, she headed to one of her jobs.

As she was wandering about Tokyo, she began to notice some things. The people, the buildings, the sounds. Ren had just moved here about two months ago, but everything changed so suddenly. To her, Tokyo was starting to feel like home. Ren smiled at that notion and continued walking with a spring in her step.

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inkwell1013 · 4 years ago

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Snapshots - Persona 5

Pairings: Yusuke Kitagawa & Yusuke Kitagawa’s mother, Yusuke Kitagawa & Ren/Akira, Yusuke Kitagawa & Madarame, Yusuke Kitagawa & Natsuhiko (all plationic/familial)

Genre: Angst, shameless angst, one shot, found family, 5+1 fic.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: This fic deals with some heavy topics, including child abuse, emotional abuse, meltdowns, the death of a parent, a mention of suicide, unhealthy eating habits and alcohol abuse.

Summary: There’s a funny thing about memories. Some of clear and defined – like a photograph – while others are hazy and vague like a half-finished sketch. Still, they define a person just as much as the choices they make or the friends they keep. All of Yusuke's most important memories are about Madarame. Thinking back on his life, he wondered how he missed all the red flags.

Five moments in Yusuke's life chronically his life with Madarame and one moment after he leaves him.

- - - - -

Age 3

“Mama, play with me,” whined Yusuke, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

His mother sighed, setting her paintbrush down on her easel. “I can’t play with you right now Yusuke.”

Yusuke pouted. “But I want to play!”

“Why don’t you draw instead?” she said. “I promise I’ll play with you once I’ve finished this painting. Okay?”

Yusuke beamed. “Okay, Mama.”

She gave him an easy smile and fetched his crayons and some paper from the shelf. She passed them over to him and went to get some more paint. Yusuke sat down at the table and started scribbling. Slowly, the picture began to take form. A neat brick house with a wild garden next to it.

It was a world away from the decrepit house they shared with Madarame. The shack was nailed together from sheets of scrap metal and was so unstable that a particularly strong gust of wind could have knocked it over.

Two people were standing in front of the house. A dark-haired woman and a small boy. Him and his mama. Just the two of them. They would finally be happy there away from everyone else. Away from Madarame.

Yusuke didn’t like Madarame. He was scary. Mama tried to make them spend time together, but Yusuke would always throw a tantrum and demand to be let go. She would always concede and let him run off, but he knew she and Madarame weren’t pleased about it.

“What is your painting going to be Mama?” he asked, as he coloured in the sky a bright blue. He imagined that they would live far out in the country, away from the grey skies of Tokyo.

“It’s a surprise!” she answered, tapping him on the nose as she walked back to her easel. “But it’s going to be a present for you.”

“A present for me? Can I see it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not until it’s done. You can’t know what it is, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Yusuke went back to his drawing.

After a few minutes, Yusuke realised that he was thirsty. He turned around in his chair. “Mama, can I go get a drink?” he asked.

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, holding onto the easel and quivering. He hurried over and gave her a little shake to get her attention.

“Mama!” he cried. “Are you okay?”

She convulsed and fell backwards, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Her body and twitched, as if there were electricity flowing through her veins. Yusuke didn’t know what to do. He tried to shake her awake, but that just made her tremble even more. He yelled Madarame’s name until his throat hurt but he didn’t come to help.

Yusuke didn’t remember much after that. Everything was hazy, like a drawing smeared over with chalk dust. He remembered a dark figure loitering in the doorway, it’s face bland and uncaring. It stood there for a good few minutes. Standing. Staring. Waiting.

By the time that she had stopped shaking, it was gone. Yusuke was crying. Then, he heard sirens. He slammed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, trying to block out the terrible noise. The sound dimmed but wasn’t gone completely. He curled up into a ball and rocked himself, trying to calm the swirling emotions in his chest.

He had been doing that for some time when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, hoping it would be his mother. Instead, his eyes met with those of a stranger. Startled, he shuffled backwards. The man was wearing a dark green uniform and had a kind-looking face.

“Hey kid,” he said softly. “Are you back in the real world?”

Yusuke gave a hesitant nod. “That’s good,” continued the stranger. “You gave us a real scare there but your daddy told us not to worry.”

Yusuke furrowed his brows. “I don’t have a daddy,” he mumbled.

“Your grandpa then?” Yusuke said nothing, just shaking his head.

“No grandpa either? Then who’s the man downstairs?”

“Madarame is Mama’s friend,” said Yusuke.

He looked to his mother, who was still lying on the floor. There was dust in her long dark hair, which was splayed out above her head. She wasn’t shaking anymore, which was good.

“Can I talk to my mama?” he asked. “She fell asleep, but she’ll be awake by now.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this kid…” The man looked over to his friend, who was knelt next to Yusuke’s mother. The woman, who was wearing the same uniform as him, shook her head. The man bit his lip and held out his hand to pull Yusuke to his feet.

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said.

“I don’t understand… Is she going to be okay?”

The man shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Your mother has passed away.”

Yusuke knew at that moment - when everything he knew came crashing down around him – that they would never have that perfect crayon scribbled life.

Age 7

Yusuke was bored of waiting for Madarame to finish painting, so he decided to explore. He was curious to see what he would uncover in the drafty, old shack. Maybe there would be buried treasure under the floorboards or a wild beast living in the basement.

Yusuke always had an overactive imagination. He made stuff up for the fun of seeing where his mind would lead him. Sometimes it would take him to faraway fantasy lands full of awe and magic. Other times he would find himself somewhere mysterious and dark, full of horrifying creatures - like the dark shadow that watched his mother die.

He was so deep in his head that he nearly slammed headfirst into an unfamiliar door.

It was covered in pretty peacock feathers, all painted in swirls of blue and gold. He ran his fingers along the ridges and crevices in the paint, marvelling at the way it was layered. The style and technique were nothing like Madarame's and it made him wonder who painted it. Could it have been one of his previous students?

He stood on the tips of his toes and grabbed a hold of the handle. Just as he was about to swing open the door, someone grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him backwards. He whipped his head around and saw that it was Madarame.

“Sensei, what’s in this room?” he asked.

Madarame slapped him so hard that Yusuke was knocked to the floor.

Still reeling from the shock and confusion, Yusuke raised a shaky hand to his cheek. It hurt to touch.

“You are not allowed in that room,” growled Madarame. “Do you understand me?”

Yusuke nodded through the tears which threatened to fall from his face.

You are not gonna cry. You are not gonna cry. You are not gonna cry.

Maybe if he repeated it enough, it would be true.

Madarame stormed off in a violent temper, leaving a shaken-up Yusuke to continue with his day like everything was normal. He went to eat dinner with his fellow pupils. Natsuhiko raised an eyebrow at Yusuke’s bright red cheek but said nothing, handing him his food wordlessly. The rest of the pupils stayed similarly tight-lipped. Yusuke swore he could see the tiniest hint of sympathy on their faces.

After wolfing down his food, he excused himself and went to bed, thoughts swirling in his mind.

Why would Madarame hurt him like this? Madarame loved him. It didn’t make any sense.

The next morning, Madarame came down for breakfast like normal and Yusuke briefly wondered if he just imagined it all.

Everyone else found a reason to leave the room, leaving Madarame and Yusuke alone.

Madarame spoke first. “I'm sorry you’re upset Yusuke, but you have to understand this from my point of view. That room is where I keep all my old paintings and if you were to damage them, I would be upset. You understand, right? I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Yusuke gave a hesitant nod. Madarame stood up and patted him on the shoulder. “Good. I love you Yusuke,” he said, as he left.

Yusuke was still curious about the contents of the room (perhaps even more now that he knows it’s full of paintings) but when he went to investigate later that day, he found that it was sealed with a heavy padlock.

So, he left it alone and tried to push the ordeal to the back of his mind.

Age 9

Tidying up the studio was one of Yusuke’s chores. Madarame had never asked him to do it, but he always blamed Yusuke when it was messy in there, so Yusuke learned it was expected of him.

He dumped the pallets and paintbrushes in the sink. Turning on the tap, he watched the paint run together and wash down the sink.

Madarame usually let Yusuke paint with him - as long as he behaved - but Yusuke had been exiled from the studio for two weeks now. He understood though – Madarame had to focus on his pieces for the upcoming exhibition.

Madarame had always been short tempered but the past few days had been worse than usual. It was okay though. He was just stressed about the exhibit; Yusuke was sure everything would go back to normal once it was done.

It was quiet. Natsuhiko had gone on an errand, so it was just him and Madarame. The shack always felt empty now that there was only three people.

Madarame used to have lots of students back when Yusuke was younger but over time, they had all left. Yusuke didn't really know why but he didn't want to risk upsetting Madarame by asking.

A few open cans of paint were sitting on the windowsill next to a drying painting. Yusuke went to put them away but something about the painting made him stop to take a closer look.

Madarame had signed it, but it didn’t look anything like his style. Had he really painted this?

The longer Yusuke looked at it, the more confused he got. The strokes of the brush were familiar and…

The realisation hit him. This was Natsuhiko’s work. He had painted it and let Madarame sign it as if it was his own. Why would he do that? It was didn’t make sense.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn’t even notice that he had knocked over the paint until it was seeping into the canvas. Panicking, he swept the it out of the pool of red, hoping it would still be salvageable.

Yusuke snatched a rag from the cupboard and desperately tried to wipe off the paint but it quickly became obvious that the painting was too damaged to be saved.

That was how Madarame had found him – scrubbing at the ruined painting with a rag, red stains all over his hands and forearms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and flapping his hands to calm himself. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

Madarame prowled over to him, like a wolf stalking its prey. Yusuke expected the slap but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “I’m sorry Sensei. I swear it was an accident,” he mumbled, tears welling in his eyes again.

“Apologising isn’t going to fix this Yusuke.”

“I know, I just… I can’t… I don’t...” He could barely get a word out. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh, stop that!” snapped Madarame, grabbing Yusuke by the wrists. “I didn’t want to do this again but you’ve given me no choice. Come on.”

Yusuke allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor, thinking that Madarame would just yank him upstairs and maybe shut him in his room. That wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes widened when Madarame pulled him past the stairs and a little further down the hall. He dug his heels into the ground and tried to wrench his arms from Madarame’s grasp. Madarame just tightened his grip, digging in his fingernails harshly.

“Sensei please!” he cried. “Please! I’m sorry.”

“You have to learn.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“Do you think I care what you want?” yelled Madarame, hauling Yusuke into the cupboard beneath the stairs. “This is for your own good.”

With that, Madarame slammed the door shut and locked it. Yusuke screamed to be let out, but was ignored. He tried to force open the door, but only succeeded in making himself exhausted. Defeated, he sunk down to the floor.

There was a miniscule crack in the wood which let in a little light, but it wasn’t enough to illuminate the dark cupboard. Of all the punishments he endured from Madarame, this was the one he hated the most. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and he never knew how long it would last. Madarame would let him out once he felt he had learned his lesson, whenever that was.

His wrists hurt where Madarame had dug in his nails. Yusuke wasn’t sure if they were bleeding or not – it was dark enough in the cupboard that he couldn’t discern the difference between the paint and the possible blood – but it hurt all the same. Why did Madarame hurt him like this?

It’s because you were bad.

Was that true? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything anymore.

He had been in there for some time when the front door creaked open. Yusuke heard footsteps coming toward him. He peered through the crack and saw that it was Natsuhiko, home from running errands.

“Yusuke, where are you?” called Natsuhiko.

“I’m in here!” responded Yusuke. “Can you let me out?”

“Yusuke? I can’t believe that he… Not again. Are you hurt?”

“Only a little,” said Yusuke. “I might be bleeding.”

Natsuhiko mumbled something under his breath that Yusuke couldn’t quite hear. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “He’s been getting away with this for too long.”

He could hear Natsuhiko talking to the police, and even though he was pretending to be confident, his voice was trembled with every word. He was talking so quickly that Yusuke couldn’t make out the words.

There was a long pause and Natsuhiko mumbled a thank you. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Madarame.

“I’ve called the police,” said Natsuhiko. “You can’t keep treating Yusuke like this. I won’t let you!”

“You have no right to tell me how to parent my son, Natsuhiko. This is a punishment – nothing more,” said Madarame.

“This is abuse!” yelled Natsuhiko. “I’ve being turning a blind eye to it for too long but this ends today.”

“I can’t believe you are doing this to me!” growled Madarame, grabbing Natsuhiko’s arm. “You’re going to regret this.”

“No!” roared Natsuhiko, snatching his arm out of Madarame’s grip. “You’re not going to control me anymore. I am done! I’m not that fifteen-year-old boy you picked up off the street. Not anymore. I’ve had enough of you using and manipulating me. This ends today.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” said Madarame. “You don’t understand anything about the world Natsuhiko. You’re so naïve, still just a child.”

Natsuhiko violently shook his head. “I’m not a child anymore. I am nineteen and I know what I am talking about. You’ve been mistreating me for so long. You abused all of us. That’s why everyone else is gone. You hurt them so much they couldn’t stand to be here anymore. You’re the reason that Tatsuo has a panic attack every time he picks up a paintbrush. You’re the reason Miki shakes in terror whenever she’s around men. You’re the reason that Yukki killed herself!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!” bellowed Madarame, grabbing onto Natsuhiko’s collar. “Do you think I wanted that to happen? I loved you all like my own children.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it. We’re terrified of you.”

“How dare you treat me like this! I took you in when no one else wanted you. I saw potential in you when you were just a homeless delinquent - when everyone saw you as trash – and this is how you treat me?” He sounded genuinely upset and Yusuke felt a little guilty.

Madarame continued. “You’ve always been manipulative but this is a new low, even for you. Prank calling 911 is a crime you know.”

“I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did. You called the police out of spite. All because you want revenge for nothing.”

Natsuhiko stared at him. “That’s not- I’m didn’t- You’re lying.”

“Let’s see what the cops think,” growled Madarame. “Whose story are they going to believe? The accomplished, famous artist or the high school drop out who never amounted to anything? I know who’s side I’d be on.”

There was a ring at the front door. “That will be them now. It’s not too late to back down.”

Natsuhiko faltered for a moment - for just long enough for Yusuke to think he had given up – before giving Madarame a sharp glare and shaking his head.

“Suit yourself,” said Madarame. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

***

The officer inspected Yusuke’s wrist. Traces of blood lingered amongst the red paint.

“You’re saying he did this?” asked the officer, gesturing towards Natsuhiko. Madarame gave a nod.

“I’m afraid so,” he sighed. "Natsuhiko tends to get a little aggressive with his brother when they play.”

“Bullshit!” yelled Natsuhiko. “You’re lying.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” snapped the officer.

“But nothing he’s saying is true,” said Natsuhiko desperately. “He’s the one who hurt Yusuke, not me.”

The officer sighed and stood up. “Calling the police under false pretences is a crime. I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t do it again. If we’re done here, I need to leave.”

“You can’t leave.” Natsuhiko grabbed a hold of the officer’s sleeve. “Please, he’s lying.”

“Let it go kid,” said the officer. He slammed the front door shut on his way out.

“Go to your room Yusuke,” hissed Madarame.

Yusuke eyes flicked between Madarame and Natsuhiko, unsure and frightened.

Natsuhiko gave him a brave smile. “I’ll be okay Yusuke,” he said. “You can go.”

***

Natsuhiko limped into Yusuke’s room a while later, a shadow of the person he was, voided of all his courage. His left eye was bruised purple and black, and his lip was split down the middle.

“What did he do to you?” asked Yusuke.

“Nothing he hasn’t done before,” said Natsuhiko, sitting on Yusuke’s bed. “If you could leave today, would you do it?” he asked, wiping the blood from his lip.

There was a long empty pause

“I would,” he admitted. “Are you going to leave?”

Natsuhiko stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

***

The next morning, Yusuke woke up to a single post-it note on his bedroom door. It had a phone number written on it, as well as two words.

I’m sorry.

Age 13

Yusuke had finished his first proper painting. He called it Grief. It had taken him hours and he was satisfied with it. The way the colours and shapes twisted upon each other was perfect and the colours were just right, which was satisfying. He had spent so long picking the right shades of blue and red that he worried he would have gone mad.

There was something profound about it. It was an apt representation of how he felt about his mothers passing - tornado of sorrow and bitterness. He barely remembered her but there was still an empty hole she had left in his heart that nothing seemed to fill.

Yusuke had proudly showed it to Madarame, rambling about his inspiration and the techniques he had used. Madarame gave him an impressed smile, that seemed ever so slightly forced.

Then, he asked Yusuke something strange. “Do you remember the day your mother died?”

“I don’t,” lied Yusuke. His recollection of the day was vague but there were shards of the memory clinging to his mind. He remembered a dark shadow, and the kind man who came to help him. He wanted to tell Madarame about the shadow, but he would never believe Yusuke.

Besides, the selfish part of his brain wanted to hold onto the final moments of his mothers life for himself.

“That’s good,” said Madarame. “I wouldn’t want you to remember something so... traumatic.” He tapped the painting. “Do you mind if I hold onto this for a little longer? I need to have a closer look before I can give you feedback.” Yusuke had been more than happy to let him keep the painting.

Two weeks later, Madarame held an abrupt exhibit. Yusuke had been excited to see what art would be on display. Madarame had been struggling with significant art block for weeks and Yusuke was glad that he was feeling creative again.

Yusuke was floored when he saw the principal piece of the exhibit. It was the painting he had poured his heart and soul into encased in a gaudy ,golden frame.

For a moment, he thought Madarame had put it up by accident. He glanced around. His mentor was just a few feet away, happily chatting with a critic. He hadn’t even noticed the mistake. Should he tell him?

Madarame walked over and stopped in front of the painting. He would have to realise his mistake now. Right? The critic studied the artwork with an enamoured look on his face. “This is a fascinating piece,” he said. “I'd love to know your inspiration.”

Madarame gave a serpent’s grin. “This piece is one of my favourites in this collection. It plays with the concept of fame and how it effects one’s ability to create art.”

The fan nodded. “I see. That makes a remarkable amount of sense.”

Bullshit! Everything Madarame had said was bullshit. He had stolen Yusuke’s art. Yusuke had ripped open his own heart and poured it onto the canvas, and Madarame had taken it like it meant nothing. Yusuke wouldn’t have minded Madarame taking credit for it either, as long as he had asked and hadn’t corrupted the meaning like that. That was unforgivable.

He listened to the two men talk for a little while longer. Once the critic was gone, he pulled Madarame far away from prying eyes or ears.

“Why did you steal my painting?” he demanded.

Madarame frowned. “I didn’t steal anything Yusuke. You agreed to let me use it for this exhibit.”

“I agreed for let you keep it for a bit. I never agreed to this!”

“Stop being so selfish,” snapped Madarame. “I’ve done everything for you these past years. You owe me. The least you can do is stop being such a brat.”

“But this painting is so personal...” muttered Yusuke, looking anywhere but Madarame’s face. Why did he feel like the bad guy? Madarame was in the wrong. Madarame had stolen from him and lied and hurt him. So why did Yusuke feel so guilty about upsetting him?

“All paintings are personal,” said Madarame. “Yours is nothing special.”

“But I –"

“You’re being ridiculous Yusuke. This conversation is over. You agreed to this and getting upset over nothing isn’t helping anyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an exhibit to attend to.” He whirled around and walked away, leaving Yusuke standing alone, confused and guilty.

Age 15

The feeling of the paintbrush in Yusuke’s hand was familiar and reassuring. The growling feeling in his stomach was familiar as well, though it did nothing to comfort him. He put down his brush and looked up from the painting he was working on.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

Madarame sipped his green tea. “Be patient.”

Yusuke frowned. “But I want to eat now.”

“Don’t be selfish Yusuke.”

“But—”

“Just finish this painting, then you can eat,” Madarame stood up and setting his cup in the sink.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He patted Yusuke on the shoulder as he left the room. Yusuke listened to him fetch his coat, leave the house and lock the door behind him. It wasn’t unusual for Madarame to go out in the evenings, so Yusuke paid it no mind.

He returned to his painting, the hunger gnawing at him like a wild beast.

Yusuke finished his painting after a few hours and immediately went to start another. It wasn’t that late, not really. It was barely even dark outside. Besides, the more work he did, the happier Sensei was. It was a simple equation really. Hard work went in one end and kindness came out the other.

The next time he checked the clock, it was nearly midnight. His eyes strained when he pulled them away from the canvas. When had it gotten so late?

He really should eat something.

When he checked the fridge, he found it was nearly empty. Yusuke wouldn’t be sent grocery shopping until Sunday and the food would have to last until then. Besides, the gnawing in his stomach had calmed a bit. He could survive another night.

Something deep down told him he doesn’t deserve anything anyway.

Yusuke tidied up after himself and went to his frigid room. It was always cold in there because the radiators didn’t work. They broke down a few weeks after Natsuhiko left and had never been fixed.

He didn’t have much - just his futon, a small table and an easel in the corner - but it was enough. Madarame had always preached that worldly possessions and wealth corrupted an artist. You couldn’t be creative if you were happy and content. You needed to suffer.

Art is borne through suffering. Art requires sacrifice. Pain is temporary but Art is forever.

He lay down on his futon, exhausted and hungry. A tiny shard of anxiety lingered in his mind, keeping him awake. Madarame still wasn’t home. It was unusual for him to stay out this late without warning Yusuke first.

Yusuke was probably just being paranoid. Everything would be fine. His sleep slowly came to him, like snow settling on the ground, only to kicked around by the first person to deem it’s existence inconvenient to them.

He was startled from his brief rest by a sharp banging at the door. Yusuke dragged himself out of bed and went to let him in. Opening the door, he saw something he didn’t expect.

It was Madarame.

He was drunk.

Yusuke knew that Madarame drank – it wasn’t a secret – but he had never actually seen him drunk before. Whenever he stayed out late, he would slink off to bed while Yusuke was asleep, being careful to not wake him up. Yusuke would find him hungover the next morning and connect the dots.

Madarame looked like shit. That was the simplest way to describe it. There was vomit down his shirt, he reeked of whisky and his hair was wild and unkempt, as if he had been caught in a hurricane on his way home. He swayed on his feet, to intoxicated to keep his balance.

“What are you doing awake?” he slurred. “It’s late. You have school tomorrow.”

I was up late worrying about you.

“You’re drunk,” said Yusuke, slightly more accusatory than he intended.

Madarame bristled. “I’m not drunk,” he snapped. “I’m just a little… tipsy.”

Why does he even bother to lie?

“I think I’m going to be sick again,” muttered Madarame, stumbling into the house.

Yusuke grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the bathroom. Madarame retched and Yusuke went to pull his hair out of his face so he didn’t get sick in it.

As it turns out, helping your drunk father puke at one o’clock in the morning is not fun. Madarame looked rather pathetic, and Yusuke wondered why he kept doing this to himself. It only ever brought him pain.

Helping Madarame into his bedroom, Yusuke handed him a clean set of clothes. He turned around while Madarame got changed and took the soiled clothes from him afterwards.

“You are so much like your mother Yusuke,” croaked Madarame, as he settled down. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I see her eyes staring back at me.”

Yusuke didn’t remember his mother, but from the few blurry pictures that he had found around the shack, left forgotten in notebooks and stashed away in drawers, he knew they looked a lot alike. They shared the same dark hair, cool-grey eyes and lean stature. They could have been twins.

“I loved your mother,” wept Madarame, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wish I did something differently that day. I could have saved her.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” reassured Yusuke. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Madarame rolled over to his side, racked with sobs, and Yusuke comforted him until he fell asleep. He wasn’t slightly surprised when he only got to bed himself at four in the morning.

He was even less surprised when he fell asleep in class the next morning. His teacher hit him over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper and Yusuke jumped so hard he almost fell out his chair.

“No sleeping in class,” he snapped. “Why on earth are you sleeping anyway? Did you stay up late watching television or something?”

Yusuke nodded.

He didn’t know what he would say. How would he explain that his father is falling apart at the seams? That he seems to be drunk more often than he is sober? It makes him feel lonely and isolated. There is no way that his teacher could understand.

No one could possibly understand.

Age 16

Yusuke was staying at Ren’s house for the night. It felt strange to sleep in the same room as another person; he hadn’t shared a room with someone since his mother died.

He couldn’t sleep, anxiety swirling in his chest. What if something had happened to Madarame? What if he had a mental shutdown? Even after everything Madarame had done to him, Yusuke didn’t want him to die. He tried to reassure himself that Madarame had been okay when he had made his confession.

Still, they didn’t know much about the mental shutdowns. Could they be delayed? He wanted to poke Morgana awake and ask him, but decided not to. He didn’t want to be a nuisance. Morgana flicked his tail in his sleep and Yusuke hoped he was having a nice dream.

It was too quiet in the attic. The only sound was the rain beating down on the roof and Ren snoring on the couch. Ren had insisted that he take the bed, which only made Yusuke feel more guilty. Ren had done so much for him and Yusuke didn’t want sink further in his debt.

You’re so selfish Yusuke. You always use people.

He wanted to wake Ren up. He wanted to feel less alone. He wanted to let out this worry before it ate him alive. Ren had said that Yusuke could wake him if he needed him.

But you don’t need him, not really. You want him, but you don’t need him.

He decided to let him sleep. Yusuke stared at Ren, pondering. Why had he helped Yusuke in the first place? He had been so rude to him and his friends when they’d first met. Still, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He had probably forgiven Yusuke already.

Hopefully.

Yusuke laid back in bed, trying to force himself to sleep. He jumped a little when his phone vibrated on the windowsill. Someone was calling him. No one ever called him.

He was about to decline the call, when he recognised the number. Trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Ren up, he spoke.

“Natsuhiko?”

“Yusuke, there’s something I need to tell you,” said Natsuhiko. He paused, as if trying to figure out what to say next. “There’s no easy way to say this but Madarame is dead.”

“What?” exclaimed Yusuke. Ren stirred on the couch. Yusuke lowered his voice. “How did you—"

“I have a friend who works at the Police Hospital,” explained Natsuhiko. “He told me.”

“That can’t be true…” Madarame couldn’t be dead. Yusuke couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it.

Natsuhiko sighed, his voice more sympathetic that Yusuke expected. “He was an old man Yusuke. Being arrested put too much stress on his heart and he couldn’t handle it.”

“Sensei always had a weak heart...” mumbled Yusuke as a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had done this. He had killed his father. And for what? A mere slight or two? Was that worth snuffing out a human life?

Natsuhiko sighed and for a split-second Yusuke thought Natsuhiko knew what he had done. His logical side reminded him that was ridiculous.

“Look, I wanted to be the one to tell you this rather than some stranger,” said Natsuhiko. “Madarame wasn’t a good man but he was still your father. It’s okay to mourn him.”

There was a pause. “I have to go,” said Natsuhiko. “Are you going to be okay?” The question was as loaded as Yusuke's silence.

“I’ll be fine,” murmured Yusuke. Natsuhiko hung up, leaving Yusuke with his horrified thoughts.

He faintly realised that he was crying. Why couldn’t he stop? He was such an idiot. He was going to wake Ren up. But Yusuke couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He was a murderer. No one could know about this.

He could leave. The idea hung around his head for a minute. There was nothing trapping him here. He could just pick up his bags and leave. Escape the scorn of the only real friends he ever had.

But where would he go? He couldn’t go back to the dorms. Everyone there knew him about Madarame and he wouldn’t be able to take their pitying stares. He would stay at a motel, but he had no money. How would be pay for it?

He really had nowhere to go. Yusuke had never felt so guilty and lonely and helpless as he did in that moment. Pulling his knees to his chest, he wiped tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and did his best to quell his weeping.

You’re not seven years old anymore Yusuke. Stop crying.

He was so inside his own head that he didn’t notice that Ren had woken up until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Yusuke looked up at him through bleary eyes, his brain barely recognising his friend.

“Yusuke… Are you—"

Yusuke pushed him away and scrambled to his feet. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped.

“Yusuke, what’s wrong?” said Ren. “I just want to help you.”

“I killed Madarame! Natsuhiko just told me he had a heart attack. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.” He fell to his knees, chest heaving.

“I’m a murderer,” he sobbed. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted him to die.”

“You are not a killer,” said Ren, crouching down to Yusuke’s level. “I’ve only known you a week, but I know that much. You didn’t kill him.”

“But I stole his heart, knowing this could happen. He was old and weak. I should have known better.”

Yusuke was startled when Ren wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “You couldn’t possibly have predicted this Yusuke. Besides, stealing a heart doesn’t cause heart attacks. We know that much. You didn’t kill him.”

Suddenly, Yusuke was three years old again, wrapped up in his mother’s arms. He hasn’t felt safe in so long, but in that moment he found comfort again.

Ren didn’t judge him. Ren wasn’t mean or snippy, even when Yusuke got tears and snot all over his t-shirt. Ren hand rested lightly on Yusuke’s shoulder, holding him to reality when Yusuke was sure he might evaporate and float away. He is an anchor. A lighthouse in a stormy ocean. A beacon of comfort in the mess of Yusuke’s life.

Yusuke’s voice was ragged by the time he finally brought himself to speak.

“I hated him,” he muttered. “Despised him even. But there were good days. Days where I loved him. Sometimes we would sit in the den together for hours, just painting. Painting and painting and painting. He used to praise me too. “You’re such a talented painter,” he would say. “You’re such a good kid. I love you so much.”

“You never knew what to expect from him. Sweet words could be replaced with cutting insults in an instant. But I wanted that praise so badly that I would hunt for it. I would do anything he asked, just so I could hear that praise. Turn over all my art, go without food, take his insults and abuse, all for the promise of a little kindness at the end of it all. I only ever wanted to be loved. I only ever wanted him to love me.”

Yusuke buried his face into Ren’s shoulder, not wanting to see Ren’s to see his pathetic expression. “Why do I still love him? Why do I still love the man who ruined my childhood? The man who killed my mother? The man who treated me like dirt? Why can’t I just admit that he hurt me?”

“Will I always be his property?” he asked. “A portrait in his museum of stolen work. His son in name but not in practice. His prodigy. His worker. Will I ever be free from him?”

Ren held Yusuke even tighter. “You are a creator,” he said. “And you are an artist. You are so much more than your past. So much more than what he said you were. And most all, you are my friend. I care about you Yusuke.”

For the first time in his life, Yusuke knew he was hearing the truth.

#persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 #persona 5 angst #angst #autistic yusuke #akira kusuru #yusuke kitagawa #natsuhiko nakanohara #death tw #child abuse tw #alcohol tw #suicide tw #disordered eating tw #i'm not sorry #inkwell writes

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