#bold move asking ME to talk about akira kurusu

[argentsunshine]

have you posted about your characterization of Joker? i really like your takes about him and would love if it were explained, but understand if not

i don't think i've posted about it explicitly beyond writing fics and comics, but i do think about it a lot

i acknowledge that everyone picks different options for their akira(/ren, i'll be calling him akira here in case i have to differentiate between his real world and metaverse personas), but imo there are way more basic facts about akira that are the same regardless of what dialogue options you pick than people act like there are

he's quiet

he's not really a silent protagonist unless you're incredibly broad with the term, but he still isn't exactly the most talkative guy. you may be saying mr argent sunshine, this is obvious, why are you bothering to state this. well you see i often joke that i have a test where i back out of a fanfic if anyone describes akira as "loud", "talkative", or anything else to that effect. i have seen this so often and it drives me insane. especially when people portray him as like, a quirky hyperactive ditz constantly saying stupid shit...? people can be funny while saying very few words, guys. (sometimes it's even funnier to say less. wild concept.)

also, while the doylist purpose of his quietness is obvious - making the player pick a line every other sentence would get annoying and would force them to write and record way more dialogue to account for all the responses - i think it's interesting to examine from a watsonian perspective. was he always quiet, or is it a mask in the same way as the glasses are? i personally imagine him always being on the quiet side, but it's a space you could play in.

2. caring so deeply about everyone and everything all the time

this to me is the real core of akira's character. the defining moment of his whole deal to me is the one-two punch of him saving a woman he didn't know and losing everything for it, and, when arsene asks, him saying doing that was not a mistake, i'd do it again if i had to, even though the woman he was trying to save turned around and lied to the police, resulting in his arrest. he comforts ann when they barely know each other, he awakens to arsene in the first place while trying to protect ryuji, who he's known for all of ten minutes. yes, he loves his friends and found family dearly (and i'm sure when i started talking about things that are true no matter what option you pick someone went "oh like how akechi will still be akira's wish in maruki's reality no matter what you do", yeah, that too) but he's also ready to throw himself into harm's way for the sake of people he's never met.

(if someone wants my full rant on this point ask me about sojiro akira parallels but a side point to this is that he's deeply unselfish, to a level that may not be healthy in the long run. he just so happens to have gotten the exact magic powers to make his heroics feasible. i'm just saying, without getting persona powers he still would have managed to draw kamoshida's anger, and he would have been expelled and probably gone to juvie! but he still would have done it because he can't just look away.)

3. oh god i don't want this to turn into a whole full rant so now i have to pick one last point then shut up. oh god oh fuck. i could talk about akira forever but nobody wants to sit through that. let's talk about masks.

i don't think of joker as The Real Akira as much as his metaverse appearance is another facet of him. looking at him from another angle. i think his flair for the dramatic is fun and i love him, but i also think the concept of theatrics and illusion and trickery (ha) being built so deep into him is very important. even though it's always for the greater good, he does tell people what they want to hear a lot (off the top of my head, maybe 1/3 to 1/2 of his non-PT confidants are at least somewhat based on false pretenses right from the start, even if they make him come clean in the end, and a lot of the rest involve akira being exactly who the person needs him to be.) you could argue that akira's always pretending to literally everyone fully all the time (I don't think this is true; i think he obscures parts of himself to make himself more useful or palatable to others, but i think arguing his connections are inauthentic is a) edgelord bullshit or, more commonly, shipper brain if they're arguing only one connection is authentic b) just not consistent with the way people work. i'm personally of the opinion that we're all always presenting tailored versions of ourselves to everyone around us - i'm ruder around my friends but kinder around my parents; openly ramble about my interests to my online friends but tend to keep a lid on them irl - these don't make some of my connections fake, it's just a difference in the facets people see. i don't think akira's tendecy to present different masks around different people is neccasarily the best way to go about life (in that i think it Will lead to an identity crisis inevitably) but it's definitely A Thing!

i lost track of what i was saying at the end there so i'll stop talking

[immortalmsmoon]

Hi ^⁠_⁠^

Can I request p5 boys (inc Akechi) comforting there s/o who is mourning over death of someone who was very close to them so close the they consider them a (her only one)family to her ? Later on finding out she have a palace bc of it ?

Thank u:)

Mourning

Cast Line Up: Akira Kurusu, Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa, and Goro Akechi

A/N: Thank you for the request, Sorry I took so long to post this! I also didn't write any scenarios for this one because its already pretty long, and I couldn't think of anything :( sorry! I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Warnings: Mentions of loss, mentions of overprotective/over baring/suffocating behavior in akechis, mentions of third semester, mild neglection, kinda angsty(?), some fluff as well, cuddles and cute stuff, Not spell checked!!

Please let me know if i missed anything!

Word count: 1189

Akira Kurusu~

this man is a very comforting person to be around

his scent is nice, the soft but bold smell of coffee clings to him from Leblanc

he's a very soft person, whether it be his voice, his hair, or even just him in general.

he also can be quite quiet sometimes, so he's a good person to vent to or talk to. he doesn't pry, and is a very good listener.

he won't cling to you, and certainly won't push you to speak or hang out with him. he want's to give you as much space as you want and need.

will make food for you, and check up on you, just to make sure that your still staying healthy.

tries his best to act like normal, but is still very kind with you and careful; he doesn't want to bring up any emotions or bad feelings.

however, he doesn't want to act so normal that you feel like your being neglected or that he's trying to ignore your feelings

as soon as he finds out you have a palace he blames himself

"Why wasn't i there for Y/N?" "i should have tried harder to be there for them.."

it crushes him, it truly does that your desires got so out of whack because of this

he feels like a terrible boyfriend. he should have noticed that you were going through this, he thinks

in reality it isn't his fault; the person you lost was very close to you, and it was kind of bound to happen (the palace)

he makes it his first priority to save you, and make sure that your state doesn't get any worse

after all is said and done, he makes sure to check up on you more and make sure that you know your not alone, even though he can't replace the person you lost.

Ryuji Sakamoto~

definitely the best to comfort you.

he's lost people in his life, and knows what you need. You need some attention, not enough to be smothered, but enough that you know your not alone in this.

after his dad left (even though he was a terrible person), it messed him up, and he felt more alone then ever. he didn't have anyone like you to help him through it

he wants to make sure you don't feel the way he did, so he makes sure to check up on you

the same as Akira, makes sure you've been eating and drinking, but also makes sure you've been keeping up with hygiene.

he'll invite you over and run you a nice bath, and while you take it he will prepare snacks and a movie, with your favourite fluffy blanket of course.

lots of snuggles. again, he makes sure you always have space to back up or move away from him incase you feel suffocated.

when he hears from Mishima that you asked for your own heart to be changed via the phan-site, he makes it his goal to help you.

he tries not to linger on bad thoughts to much, and tries not to let himself take the blame; he knows its not his fault.

that being said, he still feels bad about it all, he can't help it you are his s/o after all

as soon as your heart has been changed he's coming to visit you, with some sort of gift, maybe a teddy bear, or even just some snacks

you guys watch a movie, play a game, read manga together, heck whatever you want as long as he can be with you

Yusuke Kitagawa~

he's a clueless boy

not the best at sensing when you need to be comforted, and also not the best at sensing when you need space

in fact, he's quite bad at it.

he may have lost his mother and father, but he was quite young when it happened, and he tries not to think of Madarame to much

still, he is aware of the situation and tries his best to comfort you

he gives nice hugs, probably because of his height, and is also very gentle with you

he treats you very delicately, and tries his best to be delicate with words as well, as not to say anything that might trigger you or make you feel a wave of bad emotions.

he tries to make you food

he's not very good at it, but he's learned a thing or two from living in a school dorm by himself.

sometimes he'll just resort to buying you some food (if he has money)

one of the few ways he is good at showing that he is there for you, is by making you stuff.

he paints, sketches, crafts, heck he even tries using clay.

he makes you all sorts of stuff from trinkets to full on paintings.

when he find out about your desire to have your heart changed, it hits him like a truck, especially because you told him yourself, even if you don't know he's a phantom thief

your the only person he has left, really, and he wants to take care of you more than anything in the world.

he's quick to change your heart, and after he comes to see you

he is out of characteristically romantic with you and gentle with you, even more so than he already is

he's just happy that your here with him, and that you didn't start to feel worse.

he vows to be better at comforting you in the future and paying more attention to you.

Goro Akechi

it doesn't matter if it's third semester akechi or not, he too is also terrible at comforting you

he does try, really, he just isn't really sure how to do it right

growing up he never got comforting for anything. not until you showed up.

its still a very new concept for him, but he wants to be there for you so he tries as best as he can

and for the most part he's ok. the only problem is that he's over baring. its almost suffocating.

he always knows when your upset, its like his sixth sense

the only problem is that he can't tell if your upset because of the loss, or because of him.

he actually refuses to even think its him unless you bring it up

he's good at taking care of you. he buys you food, helps you stay on top of hygiene, helps you with laundry.

its just that he acts like you are completely uncapable of doing ANYTHING. it's like he's taken control of your life.

when he does find out about your palace, he's heartbroken.

you are the ONLY positive thing in his life. his sweet little flower that he protects and cherishes more than anything.

VERY QUICK to get rid of your palace.

he soon after realises that he was kind of bad at comforting you and the he was waaaaaay to over the top.

he makes sure to give you as much space as you need now, but is also much sweeter than you. before he had discovered your palace, he didn't know that the death had effected you as much as it did, and now he wants to show you his unconditional love and support.

[philliamwrites]

i could make you want me (pt.2)

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira/Akechi

Tags: #persona 5 royal spoilers, #pining, #crossdressing, #kissing, #light roleplay, #akechi rank 3 spoilers

Words: 2.6k

Summary: It's Akechi's turn and oh boy, nothing could have prepared Akira for this.

Notes: Part 1

i could make you want me

   Never has Akira imagined Akechi’s promise on dressing him up would look like this. The fabric is firm to the touch, midnight black leather that hugs his body tightly in the right places and leaves little to the imagination. He’s almost put a run in the stockings, their feeling on his skin completely foreign but not unpleasant. At least the pressure of gloves is something familiar, even though they reach just a little above his elbows.

    He tugs at them, making sure they’re staying in place. Now only the wig is left.

    “Do I even want to know where you got that from?” he asks, lowering his head so he can put on the wig. It fits a little too well, from the colour to how unruly curls stick to all sides, and Akira tries to imagine Akechi standing in front of a wig shop and thinking of Akira’s hair. It makes his toes curl.

    “I can’t just simply give out my contacts,” Akechi says. He’s sitting on Akira’s bed (deliberately, Akira wants to add because he did offer the couch first), one leg over the other, a finger against his chin like he’s inspecting the new exotic exhibit in a museum rather than looking at a dude crossdressing. “Oh, and don’t forget the footwear. Only that makes the outfit complete, you know.”

    Akira feels the corners of his mouth twitch. Who is he to decline a request like that. Doesn’t mean he can’t make up his own rules though. So he turns around, and bends over to pick them up.

    He hears Akechi’s sharp inhale. That’s 1:0 for Akira. He’d probably be happier about it if he wasn’t busy wondering how Akechi got his shoe size right.

    “Okay, done.” Akira turns around, showing off the whole outfit. “Not what I expected when you said you’d dress me up as you, but I’m not complaining.” His hands run down his skirt, straightening the little creases until it falls like a smooth, black waterfall over his hips. Maybe next time they need the girls wrapping someone around their finger in the Metaverse for infiltration purposes, he should volunteer and see how far he can come.

    “You…” Akechi’s voice is low, bringing Akira’s thoughts back to the present. “You handle this far better than I expected.”

    “You thought I’d get embarrassed?” Akira cocks his head to one side, unable to stop his lips crooking into a grin. He moves closer to the bed, carefully swaying his hips left and right. He shouldn’t have bothered, for Akechi’s eyes are glued to his feet and the knee-high boots he’s wearing. Slowly his hand falls from his face, and instead his arms come up across his chest, hands trying to hold onto the     fabric of his jacket so tight his knuckles turn white.

    “I surely did not expect you to handle heels that well. Do you have experience?”

    Now it’s Akira’s momentum staggering. He stops right in front of Akechi and imagines sinking down on his knees, pushing Akechi’s legs apart so they both can finally focus on anything different than interrogating each other and use their mouths for something more fun.

    “I am skilled in a lot of things,” he says, slightly bending down so he’s at eye level with the detective.

    Akechi’s eyes slowly roam from his feet over his chest up to his face. “Are you now.” He doesn’t sound impressed.

    “Want me to show you?”

    Akechi’s expression remains passive for a moment; only furrows his eyebrows. Akira now knows it means he’s mentally putting every possible outcome into neat categories to find out which is the best. In the end, he settles on a polished TV smile, blinding and unbearably fake. “There is something missing though.”

    Akira raises an eyebrow. “I feel nothing that you’ll say will add to this outfit.”

    “Then you sure won’t mind me proving my point.” He doesn’t wait for a reply and rummages in his jacket pockets for a moment, pulling out a little cylinder object. It glints golden in the dim light, the bottom part a luscious red.

    All Akira can manage is, “Oh.”

    “If you’ll excuse me.” Akechi catches Akira’s jaw, digging his thumb into his chin and what would Akira give to have him gloveless. The cap comes off with a soft pop. Akira can’t help but shudder when the soft tip of the lipstick meets his lips without Akechi batting an eyelash. There’s no hesitation, only intense concentration on his part as he applies the colour on Akira, the crimson red just a shade darker than the gloves he’s wearing in the Metaverse.

    He summons all his self-restrain to not run his tongue over his lips—an almost impossible task with Akechi’s eyes focused on his mouth.

    “Almost done.” Akechi’s voice is barely a whisper, thick with something that Akira wishes is arousal. “Just ... a little off here.” His gloved thumb drags over the lowest part of Akira’s bottom lip, correcting where the lipstick has smudged onto his skin, and something in Akira dies inside, making breathing too hard; restraining himself too cruel.

    “There we go.” Akechi’s fingers disappear, but Akira’s skin still burns where they touched him. “Perfect.”

    And then he slants his mouth down over Akira’s, a hand raking through his ink-black hair and finding home at the back of his nape where they close into a fist to hold him right there. Not that Akira had any intention of moving away. He allows Akechi to devour his mouth, tasting his teeth and tongue and everything inside until they’re both breathless and gasping for air—two boys drowning in pleasure with only their lips against each other as the rescue rope.

    “Detective,” Akira breathes against Akechi’s red lips, looking up into hazel eyes with pupils blown wide black with pleasure. “I see frequenting with a delinquent has made you quite bold. Do you think you can just do whatever you want and go unpunished?”

    A little huff escapes his lips, warming Akira’s cheeks. “I didn’t make you wear this because I’m into roleplay, Kurusu,” he says, quickly uncrossing his legs and spreading them when Akira nudges them open with his knee so he can step in between.

    “A little too late for that, don’t you think?” He catches Akechi’s hands when they make their way up Akira’s legs and under the hem of his skirt, firmly pressing against his thighs. If his lips look this pretty smudged red, Akira is confident he himself isn’t looking bad either.

    Akechi rolls his eyes, his hands going slack in Akira’s grip. “Fine. Officer. What would you have me do?” His voice is dry enough to turn the plant inside Akira’s room crisp and dead.

    Akira gives his wrist a little squeeze. “Now we’re talking.”

**

    “I can’t believe you make me do this.”

    Akira really shouldn’t get such a kick out of hearing the embarrassment in Akechi’s voice, but he’s learnt a few new things about himself today and what is one tiny kink more on a list he hopes he’ll find time to explore.

    “And don’t forget to wipe behind the counter as well,” Akira says, his legs crossed at his ankles with a magazine on his thighs as he slouches in a booth, watching Akechi clean Leblanc. Sure, this could have gone somewhere completely different, but Akira relishes in the sight of sleeves pushed up to elbows and sweat glistening on a slender neck. “Boss is really strict when it comes to that place.”

    Akechi throws him a nasty glare, looking ready to strangle Akira with his bare hands. Still not in the kinky way.

    They’ll get there someday.

[ramblingsofa-crazedauthor]

A World Too Late - Chapter 1

Summary: Goro Akechi never slipped up. They never figured out he could understand Morgana at the TV station, and they never anticipated what he was to do. Akira Kurusu is dead. He died for real, and the whole world believes it was a suicide. Even the Phantom Thieves don't know what happened and are terrified of the possibility that he actually took his own life. But they aren't as weak as they were expected to be. Instead of going into hiding, they make plans on their next move and make a bold retaliation in an effort to show they are not defeated. While they try to find out what actually happened to Akira, more and more of the world they never really understood starts to unravel.

Content Warnings: Assumption of Suicide, Murder, Guns, Betrayal

Relationships: None

Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11895276/chapters/268693

Chapter 1: Today’s Breaking News

Phantom Thieves Group Topic: Last Night

Futaba: we need to talk about this

Ann: God…

Yusuke: I still can't believe what happened.

Haru: He'll be okay, right?

Makoto: The police surely couldn't force him into anything…

Ryuji: How the hell do we know?! They're corrupt, remember?

Makoto: There would be a video camera…

Haru: Could Futaba hack into it?

Futaba: its not that simple, it would take me way too long even if i tried

Yusuke: Could we recover the footage in another way?

Futaba: then youd have to actually get into the police station

Ann: All of this is just guessing, too…

Ryuji: This is effed up.

Makoto: I think my sister will be questioning him…

Haru: Can we plan some sort of escape?

Ann: It'll be fine if he hasn't confessed, right?

Makoto: They already know his name and face… If we free him, he'll have to go into hiding.

Yusuke: This is going nowhere. We should talk in person.

Futaba: i guess youre right…

Makoto: This afternoon at the hideout?

Ann: I’ll have to cancel plans, but okay.

Haru: See you guys there.

(End of chat log.)

Futaba Sakura put down her phone, staring up at the ceiling. Her wide array of computer screens were laid out before her, but she wasn't interested in what any of them were displaying. One of them showed a continuous news broadcast, and she was waiting for a certain person's name or face or even existence to show up on it. She wondered bitterly when they would announce the brave apprehension of the leader of the Phantom Thieves, parading around their 'justice' as worse things went on below the surface. There was something else on one of her monitors - the Phantom Aficionado website. She glanced at the poll, consistently going down. She wondered how it would fare once the news about Akira became public. It didn't even seem possible for it to go lower, but people always surprised her.

Futaba jumped when there was a knock on her door, and she heard the distinct voice of Sojiro, "Futaba, please tell me what happened. Where's Akira? Do I have to call the-" "No! Don't call the police," she replied, knowing she would have to tell him soon. She could just let him find out from the news report, but it felt rather cruel and impersonal just to leave it to that. Though he didn't show it all that often, Sojiro clearly cared about Akira more than he would admit. Futaba had been putting it off because she was scared of his reaction, but he needed to know. She nervously got up, and opened the door. He was looking at her with a stern yet somewhat worried expression.

Futaba sighed, "Last night… We were doing a mission for the Phantom Thieves." The name clearly made him tense up, and when she didn't seem eager to continue, he asked, "Is that it? What happened?" Steeling herself, she said, "Um… We were doing a mission. And we made a mistake, so he distracted the people trying to catch us, and, well… He got caught by the police." "He what?!" Sojiro exclaimed. "We don't know anything except that he's being questioned right now, we just need to wait and see what happens…" she said. After the initial shock, he frowned and sighed, "You've really screwed yourselves over, you know that? ...Do you think he's going to reveal your identities?" She shook her head, "There's no way. He's Akira."

Sojiro understood. He said, "Are the rest of you coming over?" "Yeah. This afternoon," she replied. His expression was troubled, "Be careful, okay? I don't want you getting into the same situation… Is he going to show up on the news? They may keep his identity a secret or even not announce it at all." "I don't know, none of us know. I've been keeping my eye on the news all day, they'll have to say something about it." Futaba looked down and started to close her door again, but not before Sojiro said, "Don't get arrested, kid."

---

Phantom Thieves Group Topic: Boss

Futaba: i told sojiro what happened

Haru: How did he react?

Futaba: ok… he's not angry or anything

Ryuji: That's good, at least.

Ann: I don't think Boss had any chance of reacting badly.

Futaba: well, i wasnt sure. when he found out about us being phantom thieves, he wasnt too impressed

Yusuke: At least this is one victory.

Futaba: nobody asked you, inari

Makoto: Anyway, this topic made me wonder…

Makoto: Is there any chance Akira would reveal our identities?

Futaba: sojiro mentioned this. i dont think so, hes not that kind of person

Haru: Agreed.

Ryuji: There's no chance in hell.

Makoto: They could do something to force it out of him… It's the same with a confession.

Makoto: I know a few of the things they do, and it's not pretty.

Yusuke: I think he has enough willpower to pull through…

Ann: I trust him. He'd never do that.

(End of chat log.)

---

When the afternoon came, the Phantom Thieves began to arrive at Leblanc. Instead of going up into Akira's room as they usually did, they sat in one of the booths. There was something a bit uncomfortable about it, now. Besides, there were no customers at that moment so they didn't have to worry about accidentally revealing their identities. Morgana had gone to Haru's house for the night, though Futaba did offer for him to stay at Sojiro's house. The man had made coffee for his daughter exclusively, remarking that there were too many of them and none were paying. The TV was louder than usual, and they could all hear the everyday news. It still seemed that it wasn't going public, which only made them feel more tense, as if something terrible had happened and the officials didn't want to tell the masses about it.

Ryuji was making short, stiff movements, "Can't they just announce it and get it over with?" Biting her lip, Makoto replied, "We can't rush it. They might announce it now, or announce it in a week. Maybe they want to question him first, or get a signed confession." "They don't have anything without a confession, right?" Morgana jumped onto the table. "Well, they caught him in the act, but the whole story is still a little hard to believe…" Haru noted. Morgana said, "Well, that's been bothering me - the whole catching him in the act thing. How did they know what to do? Is there someone in the police force with access to the Metaverse? Why haven't they used it until now?"

Makoto frowned, "Well, there's another option, isn't there? It's possible, but I don't really want to believe it. ...What if we were betrayed?" The possibility hung in the air, an unwanted, uncomfortable weight. The idea that there could've been a betrayal - that somebody among them weren't who they said they were was disquieting. But despite it being painful to even consider, it was a needed possibility. If they didn't regard it, then they might not be able to discover why Akira Kurusu had been caught by the police. Yusuke said, "How would we find out who did it?"

Morgana was pacing across the table, "Well, I have a bit of an idea of who it could be." When nobody replied, he continued, "I might as well just say it… Where's Akechi?" Everyone had been preoccupied, and completely missed the newest member's absence. It was a fair point, considering he had only just joined and hadn't contacted any of them since last night. "I'll contact him now," Makoto brought out her phone.

To: Goro Akechi

Makoto: Akechi? Where are you? Why aren't you at our meeting?

Makoto: We have reasons to suspect you as a traitor.

Makoto: They're not much, but please reply so they can be eased.

When Morgana pointed out that speculating without evidence wouldn't end well, they sat in tense silence for a few minutes. This was broken by the newcaster announcing that the police had released a statement saying they had apprehended the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Their heads immediately whipped up, needing to take in every detail that the police were willing to make public. The broadcast described what they already knew, how he was caught in the act last night, he was a student, and he currently on probation. As it went on, everyone relaxed a little, the tension of awaiting the announcement gone. "I guess now we'll just have to wait for more information," Yusuke sighed.

Sojiro seemed to be glancing up at the monitor every few seconds while washing dishes. As the news went on, there was more and more misinformation. They were talking about how the Phantom Thieves had been the ones to kill Kunikazu Okumura (they hadn't) and how they had caused all the mental breakdowns (which they definitely hadn't). Though they were used to the rampant assumptions, it still was annoying to see them so widely accepted by everyone despite the little basis they had. Futaba checked her phone, then told everyone, "And yet again, our 'innocent ranking' has gone down." The way she said sounded like it was trying to be humorous, but there was a slightly agitated undertone. That was how most of them felt, wanting to keep the mood up at least somewhat, but really not able to.

At least there was some good news - he hadn't yet revealed the identities of any of them, or any other accomplices like Takemi or Iwai. They hadn't expected him to in the first place, but there was mild relief in the fact that whatever horrible torture methods they were using weren't bad enough to get him to confess their identities. He was staying strong, as they Joker they knew. The man on the TV announced there was 'breaking news' once more, and they all looked up to see whatever he had to say. It was quick, matter-of-fact, and completely emotionless. They went on to another segment to discuss it almost immediately. There were no condolences, explanations, or apologies. After all, wasn't it all so simple?

Akira Kurusu, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, their friend, had committed suicide.

There was terrible silence that first took hold of the café when this was announced. There was no way it was true, they didn't know themselves! It had just been announced on television, and they hadn't actually seen his body hit the ground, or heard his final words, or been told by him that he was to die. This was probably some elaborate trick to fool the public into thinking the 'threat' was gone so they could complete palaces without being watched by the police or the public eye. "T-This can't be true," Ryuji said. Ann muttered, "Of course it isn't. H-He wouldn't do this. There's no way he…" Morgana said, "They're lying! He could never do something like this." The program continued on. It talked about how this probably was because he didn't want any information to get out about how he did it, or who he was working with. They said that he had stole the guard's gun, shot them, then shot himself. Someone from a hastily-constructed interview said that he was a coward and had deserved to die for the terrible things he had done.

Sojiro stared up at the screen, "This has to be a joke." "What if he tricked them?! What if he faked his death, so he could go off the radar, and now…!" Futaba offered hurriedly. She hastily took out her phone and stared at the screen, waiting for a phantom message. Haru was shaking, her eyes were affixed on the television, "He planned this, I know it…" Going almost completely pallid, Yusuke whispered, "Someone like him… Would never do that." Makoto simply held her hand over her mouth, unable to talk.

They all had to believe that this was just another one of his over-the-top ploys. Soon, he would turn up, smiling, safe and sound, and without a hole in his head. They knew him for his unprecedented plans, his unreadable mind, his unexplainable ideas. But there was something brutally simple about what had happened, something that didn't exactly fit into strategies of his calibre. Despite his wild tendencies, there would always be a word to them, assuring them not to worry, that he had it all figured out. Where was it? Even if he hadn't been able to communicate it, he was Akira. He found some way to do things that wouldn't make his teammates stare in shock and horror without any explanation. Maybe they were overestimating him for what he was, maybe there was no genius way to get out of this situation other than a bullet to the head. But there was a single question left. How could he do this? How could he do this to everything they had stood for? How could he do this to himself? How could he do this to them?

---

To: Akira Kurusu

Alibaba: You're alive, right?

[pyroclasmpixie]

persona 5 fanfic: Body of Art 1/12

T rating, Yusuke Kitagawa/Akira Kurusu (p5 protag). Instead of finding an irresistible muse in Ann, Yusuke discovers a different muse in a chance encounter with some mysterious masked thieves... or phantoms... An alternate unfolding of the events leading up to Yusuke joining the team. Some spoilers through April and May.

Posting this here only roughly edited. My AO3 account is resonant_aura. If you have any comments or are interested in betaing, please message me!

Body of Art

-Minimalism-

 To be honest, landscapes had never been his forte. There was nothing… moving to be found there, nothing that would stir more than the feeblest response from the soul. One looked at a landscape and thought, oh, how pleasant. And then walked away to some other stimulus, some engaging object that would inspire true feeling, in search of real beauty.

Real beauty didn’t rest in a landscape.

But since Kitagawa Yusuke had yet to actually finish this landscape, perhaps he was being too hasty in his judgment.

In fact, he had yet to begin.

Yusuke looked out over the gently falling slope descending away from the back wall of Kosei High, the neatly kept grass dotted with rebellious wildflowers, giving way to a line of sugi trees and ruthlessly tamed bamboo. On the other side was the broad concrete walk leading around the front doors, but that didn’t necessarily have to be in the picture. There was nothing especially beautiful about concrete, not here where everything was green and breathing and open to the sky. The setting sun cast everything in gold and indigo and enriched the shadows with undiluted ink. It would be remarkable, Yusuke supposed, to someone else.

Sensei had suggested he try his hand at a traditional Zen landscape. Perhaps it would help him to achieve some balance in his mind.

Gazing out at the landscape, peaceful and still—the other students had long since gone home—Yusuke searched his thoughts, then turned his attention to the empty sketchbook resting in his hands. Hmm. Similar contents.

Idly, he picked up a stick of charcoal from his supplies and swept a broad stroke across and upwards, a bold line of chalky black to fill the white. Then, glancing at the trees, a few thinner strokes in sharp vertical lines. Another line, a soft cloud of black, rubbed out with the heel of his hand and gentled into a textureless, smooth, shapeless grey.

They were studying minimalism recently. This would do for now.

He packed up his things and began the walk home.

---

Yusuke loved the metro. He didn’t have the opportunity to take it all that often, unfortunately. He didn’t have that many places he needed to go; and where he did go was usually within a healthy walking distance from the atelier. But the metro was always a place absolutely teeming with life, with things to observe and question and absorb. Colors and lights and movements and smells and the clack on the rails, the clack of boot heels and the echoing chatter of a thousand little snippets of life wandering by like distracted moths.

“Did you see Keiko-chan I could just—”

“—supposed to be raining but—”

“—due on Saturday, but I’ve got a swim meet then and I don’t know how I’ll—”

“I know!”

“—about these Phantom Thieves—”

“Of course not!”

“Buy Aqua Vitae, and drink from the springs of life!”

“—she should accept him, at her age.”

“There’s a meeting at 7:30 so—”

All these aspects of life, nearly invisible, gone in a flicker. That was beautiful. If only he could paint it. Yusuke stood to one side of the stairwell, watching the blue-white cell phones lighting the faces from below, watching the lime green and ocean blue and electric yellow flashes of the advertising screens, and felt his hand shake just slightly. He could paint it. He could. He could sit here in this corner and watch and no one would know, no one would notice, he could just—

No. Not tonight.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and walked back up the stairs.

Time to go home.

Sensei didn’t like when he violated curfew.

---

“Hey, did you see this website?”

Yusuke looked up from his textbook, blinking in the early morning sunshine. “Hm?”

It was his classmate, Muraoka-san. The other boy was twisted around in his chair, holding out his phone for Yusuke to see. “Take a look,” said Muraoka. “Some weird stuff, huh? I don’t know about all this justice talk, but the design is pretty cool. Right?”

Yusuke glanced at the screen. It was garish—black and red splashed in angular, mismatched shapes across the screen, with a blinking white comment bar at the top and a question in dripping, jagged letters: “Do you believe in the Phantom Thieves?”

“Phantom Thieves?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard?” Muraoka grinned, eager to share his insider knowledge. “They call themselves the Phantom Thieves of Heart. They say if you’re corrupt they’ll find you and steal your heart. Like vigilantes or something. You know?”

Thieves of the heart? Well that was… intriguing. He mulled it over in an absent fashion—soft lighting, soft shadows, an expression as mysterious as it was magnanimous—then shook himself back to the present. “Well?” he asked Muraoka. “Do you believe in them?”

“Nah,” said his classmate, grimacing a little at the screen. “It’s just some PR stunt. You know like how Wackdonald’s did last year? Someone will fess up to it soon.”

He swiveled around with a shrug. Yusuke watched, turned a keen eye to the slump of the boy’s spine, the jut of his scapula. Nothing. There was no feeling other than that of enduring the mundane, like being buried under yards and yards of wet wool.

Yusuke sighed and continued to read.

---

There was a crash, a rattling thump, the yowl of an angry cat. Yusuke froze, his bag over one shoulder, suddenly balanced on the balls of his feet as his heart began a violent pounding rhythm that he could feel in his temples and fingertips and the base of his spine. His skin crawled; his eyes went wide and blank, scanning the nighttime gloom of the empty back alley. Sensei had said there had been accidents—to be careful—that was why he was so insistent about the curfew, for Yusuke’s protection, it had nothing to do with the last piece he had created—and now Sensei was gone away on another excursion to the hot springs for his back treatments and Yusuke had thought, just once, just this once, it wouldn’t hurt, and he was choking under the bite of the bridle he was forced to wear and he had thought it would be fine—

But now there were looming shadows rising on the wall opposite him, outlined in bright pink and blue from the main street. He should never have taken back roads. Was he even certain of his location? He had been thinking on the composition of a canvas, on the significance of the foreground, and how was that even important just now—

“Oh my god, you klutz!”

“Sh-shuddup, you almost fell too!”

“Yeah, but not into a trash can!”

“You’re both all right?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks…”

How bizarre. Late night carousers? No, they had the sound of youth. Errant students, then? Not that he could throw stones.

… Thugs…?

Yusuke deliberately, carefully, stepped back against the wall and eased his way along the rough, tacky cement to the corner he had just rounded. He shouldn’t look. He should just go home.

But I don’t have a—

He peered around the edge of the wall, bag gripped tightly against his flank, shoulders pressed to the cement.

Masks.

It was an evocative scene—something out of a Bosch painting, vivid and yet completely nonsensical, and right here in the bowels of Tokyo. Blue and red light flickered over the figures in the alleyway, catching the outline of an arm, flashing on the metal teeth of a zipper, highlighting the white flash of an eye in some otherworldly hue. Their faces all appeared distorted, until the image resolved itself and Yusuke could see the inhuman curves and angles of masks on their faces—pointed ears, bared teeth, hollow black eye sockets. Had he fallen into hell? Was he hallucinating? No, they were probably just—performers—clubbers—tourists—

“Meooooowwwww, mrreowwrrr mrowp!”

“Yeah, we know,” said the gruff male voice. “We’ll get ‘em next time. You good to go, Joker? Let’s split.”

Yusuke would forever be grateful he had not blinked—if he had, it would have appeared as though they vanished into thin air. Instead, his eyes went wide as he watched two figures—human, they looked human, they had to be surely—light up with blue flames and then walk out into the night, perfectly normal, easily lost in the crowds.

The last figure, nearly invisible for all the black in its costume—Yusuke had only been able to pick it out for the brilliant red of its gloves—moved to follow them, and then stopped. It turned back, back towards the corner where Yusuke was watching. It was completely backlit by the lights of reality, a stark silhouette against a backdrop of noise. It was perfectly formed—just there—and then gone.

Holding his breath, Yusuke narrowed his eyes, trying not to move as he searched for signs of an exit, an approach, a—

He nearly choked when he suddenly went blind.

“Shhh,” someone murmured in his ear, and he tried to struggle but his arms were held down in an unwanted embrace and his legs were pinned to the wall and no and this is like and I don’t want

“Careful. You’ll hurt yourself.” The voice was unidentifiable, more breath than timbre, more sound than words, but he understood. Yusuke was used to capitulation and he went still, quivering and hyper-aware of the feeling of leather against his cheeks and forehead, of heavy seams pressed into his skin through the thin material of his shirt. “Now, do me the courtesy of a proper explanation. I like my privacy, and I react poorly to violations of that privacy. What were you spying for?”

“Not spying,” Yusuke gasped. It occurred to him, distantly, that since he was able to gasp (like a panicked animal, how unappealing) that meant his captor was allowing him to breathe. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected. “I-I was—was journeying home and I heard voices. I thought it might be—a dangerous group…”

“You weren’t wrong. I am dangerous.” Yusuke felt the concrete grind and scrape against his body as his captor’s weight shifted. The breath in his ears was so close, so warm, he could almost imagine he felt the very lips against— “Try to be a little quieter the next time you eavesdrop. Only silent cats catch their mice.”

“Who are—?”

An abrupt cacophony like wings, the thick flap and flutter of panels of leather moved by a sudden gust, cut him off. Yusuke flinched as the night lights of Tokyo pierced his unprepared eyes. He spun around to look up and down the dim alley, squinting through the pain-pricked tears, but he was alone. He ducked around the corner. Only a trash can, upended with a ruptured bag spilling out of it. No one there either. He held a hand to his forehead, trying to forestall a thundersome headache.

… Was that a dream…?

Yusuke looked down at the trash can. No. He heard—he knew—

He stepped closer to the can to inspect it, and a dash of black across his vision made him stumble backwards into the wall again. “Mrow!” said the cat who startled him so, looking triumphant with its languidly waving tail. It gave him an intent stare with its wide, glowing cat eyes, then bounded away toward the traffic of the main road.

Just a cat.

Was it just a cat…?

Yusuke stared unseeing into the shuffle and press of bodies and trolleys and bicycles. He lifted a hand to his ear, fingering the shell of it in search of some lingering heat—but his hands were so cold and unsteady he couldn’t tell anything from them. He checked his bag; everything intact. There weren’t even signs of distress on his pants or his pristine white shirt.

Yusuke would have believed he had just had a particularly vivid daydream, a taste of adventure, a strange mental catharsis, except—except for the way he felt.

Though still cold from shock, his skin was tingling everywhere. He was acutely aware of the brush of woven polyester over his knees as he took a step back, the folds of his shirt unsticking from his sweat-dampened spine. He could feel how dry his mouth was, how shaky his hands were, could feel the muscles in his arms and back sliding over one another and locking up to compensate for his unstable weight, the supply bag swinging against his hip. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, thudding behind his eyes, rushing through his ears. He could feel the breath moving in and out of his lungs. He could feel the dry stickiness of his lips as they parted, feel the air moving over his tongue, as he inhaled and then said a single word in a bemused, wondering whisper:

“Joker.”

He was, finally, awake.

Yusuke blinked once, twice, still gazing out at the glaringly bright advertisements along the shop-crowded road. Then he turned and walked quickly back the way he had come. It was a good thing Sensei was away for a while. Yusuke would not be going home to rest for some time.

There was so much he had to do.