#if there isn’t trouble the detective can just brew some up real quick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renxamamiya · 4 years ago

Text

The Sins of Your Mistakes Weigh Heavily On My Soul

A03 Link Here

My half of a tradefic with @wildcard-rumi. This is based on my Theatre of Mirrors AU and her Takuto is Ren's Dad AU, specifically on her 'Buried Memories' series.

Go have a read of her AU, it's amazing and I love it. As for people waiting for Theatre of Mirrors don't worry, I've been busy/exhausted with other personal projects and life that I haven't really got the time/motivation to write it. But I will hopefully put something out before March!

Sumire: Hello, Dr. Maruki-San Sumire: Can you come to Leblanc today? There’s something we need your help with. Sumire: It’s about Ren.

---

Takuto stared at Sumire’s message on his phone, his fingers awkwardly tapping against the hardwood that made the Leblanc counter. It had been a while since he’d met the rest of the thieves; more than a year had passed since he’d tried to force a false reality to the whole of humanity, one where there was no concept of pain, only placid happiness in which the wildest dreams had come true. It came with a price: the stagnation of humanity, one where no one had to struggle, had to fight for what they wanted. He did it out of kindness, of course; to save everyone from the pain he experienced, from the pain his son had to endure... Looking back upon his mistake, he found it ironic that his sole reason to plunge humanity in a reality of ignorant bliss was the one who unravelled his plans at the seams.

It wasn’t as if Ren didn’t have his share of anguish, yet Takuto was too aware he had condemned his son to nothing but suffering. A clumsy night in the early hours during his time in college, Ren having to grow up without a traditional, nuclear family... Him having to witness Rumi’s death, traumatized, only then to have his memories wiped... Takuto still found the memory of Ren in the hospital room hard to swallow, the time where he’d used his Persona’s powers to alter reality, to make him happy. Reflecting upon it with his changed heart, he now realised that his good intentions would have led humanity into a Hellish existence; though he didn’t regret it one bit as he wouldn’t have reunited with his son in the first place.

He nestled the cup of coffee he had close to him, taking a sip from it, savouring the complex flavours intertwined with the tangy bitterness of the roast. Sakura-san had kindly brewed a cup for him to enjoy before closing the shop temporarily for his meeting with Ren’s friends, Takuto graciously accepting the cup and paying for it, waiting anxiously for the group to arrive. A ring of the bell caught his attention, Takuto whipping his head to see Sumire’s eyes peering from the frames of her glasses. She smiled upon seeing him, rushing into the quiet cafe followed by the other thieves before giving him a quick bow, “Good morning, Maruki-sensei,” she greeted, and Takuto laughed at her extreme politeness.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Yoshizawa-san,” Maruki laughed, “I’m not your teacher anymore, and I did come here because you asked, after all,”

He looked over to the rest of the group, the thieves minus Sumire sitting in the booths, their faces solemn as they looked away from his gaze. Takuto frowned; he had spotted Morgana quietly curled on Haru’s lap, the girl running her fingers in his fur absent-mindedly, looking worried at the cat with worry. Another sweep of the room with his eyes, distress welling inside him. Before Sumire could even speak, having noticed his panicked expression he asked out loud to the room: “Where’s Ren? Has something happened to him?”

“That’s... what we want to talk to you about,” Makoto said, yet she found it hard to look Takuto in the eyes. The feeling of unease between the thieves grew between them, the worried glances they exchanged only made him more anxious.

“What happened? Is he okay?” he stuttered, jumping from his seat, “Did he get into some sort of trouble? Is he in danger?” Each time he asked them the group winced, Sumire’s cheerful expression evaporated as she watched Takuto beg for any sort of information, each question curling the corners of her frown deeper on her face, “I need to know, please tell me: what is going on?”

“It’s... hard to say,” Ann replied to his plea, “It... he...”

“Ren’s gotta Palace,” Ryuji huffed, stoic at Takuto’s shocked reaction, “We’ve been infiltration’ it for some time now,”

“He has a Palace?!” Takuto’s eyes widened, shocked at this revelation, “W-when did he get one? Does that mean that world... the Metaverse came back? How-”

“We don’t know,” Makoto tried her best in answering him, her voice understanding at his floundering confusion, “We don’t know when the Palace had been formed, but when it did fully form it brought back the Metaverse with it,”

“And Mementos too,” Futaba added, “The whole thing, and his Shadow has been manipulating it too for his own goals,”

“Just like...” Takuto swallowed, still bewildered at this newfound knowledge, “But why? Do any of you know?”

“He has mentioned a performance of some kind,” Yusuke said, “One ‘of a lifetime’, it isn’t wrong to suspect his plans with Mementos had something to do with it,”

“Have you noticed something with the public, Maruki-san?” Haru asked him, her expression curious, “We’ve been noticing ourselves the renewed interest in the Phantom Thieves out in public, even selling Phantom Thief merchandise again,”

“I... I have,” Takuto swallowed, loosening the buttons of his coat, his hands shaking in the warm air of the cafe, “I’ve heard things on the radio about the Phantom Thieves; passengers would always mention about them to me, but I always thought it was because of the anniversary of your first heist that brought interest back. Kamoshida, right?”

Ryuji and Ann cringed at the mention of Kamoshida, Takuto immediately regretting his words, “S-so anyway, where is Ren? He has a Palace, but I assume-”

“He’s trapped inside of it,” Takuto whipped his head to look at the cat, Morgana, rising from his listless nap upon Haru’s lap to talk to him, “For some reason his shadow’s keeping him in there. No idea why, but what we do know is that he’s kept at the top floor,”

“Trapped inside...” Takuto repeated under his breath, rolling the words on his tongue as he tried desperately to even comprehend the situation. Heavy silence soon fell amongst the group. Takuto bit his lip, was he the one who caused this?

Makoto cleared her throat, snapping the room back into attention “There’s a vital area of the Palace he refuses to open up for any of us, Takuto. Anyone but you, that is, according to his shadow,”

Takuto looked at her in thought, contemplating her words, they churned in his mind. He looked at the polished floor of the cafe, his lips pursed. He curled his fingers into a fist, his chest tightened, Takuto blinking the tears from his eyes as they arose.

He looked back up at the thieves, their eyes filled with hope, pleading for him to assist them in saving his son.

“Alright, I’ll go with you to his Palace; Ren’s Palace,” he said.

---

“Is this?”

Takuto gazed at the foyer before him, watching the humanoid cognitions before him, all of them chatting to and fro, paying no mind to the thieves, all of them wearing masks. Light from the scarlet day of the outside shone wonderfully through the stained-glass windows. He gazed uneasily at the statue that nestled itself between the two ascending stairs, gulping down the stress and anxiety he felt, staring at an uncharacteristically pompous statue of his son.

“The Palace is becoming more unstable with each trial we complete,” Goro informed him, Takuto still bewildered by the mere fact that he was alive, and more importantly, helping the thieves with their infiltration, “I’d advise you to keep your wits and do whatever the shadow wants you to do, we can’t risk it prematurely collapsing,”

Takuto nodded, intimidated by the former detective, barely hiding the disdain he felt towards the former councillor. He had almost condemned the entirety of reality to one of false bliss, forcing his wants onto the entirety of reality. He also understood Goro still felt bitter towards him with erasing Ren’s memories, making him suffer, the infallible leader a mess in the confrontation of his recollections, having no way to cope with any of them. Sure, he had come out on top of them, able to power through his relieved anguish of losing Rumi, of losing his father, of having to witness her...

“It certainly has seen better days,” the bespectacled man sighed. He could still see signs of grandiose and luxury in the untended chaos of the tatters and scratches that accented each curtain and carpet, as if abandoned and allowed to rot with time. A part of him still wanted to deny the sight before him, still rationalised that nothing about this was real, that his son was back in reality, that he was safe, that this was some sick prank conjured up by his friends.

All those wishful thoughts Takuto had mustered quickly dashed when he saw the figure stood before them. Waiting.

“-And remember, refer to him as Joker, not Ren,” Goro hissed in his ear, “All we can do is appease him unless... well, I don’t suppose you’d like to end up as a corpse, would you?”

“I- Thank you, Akechi-san,” Takuto gulped, nodding in acknowledgement of Goro’s warning before turning towards his son. Though they were meters apart it felt like they were looking across the maw of a canyon. With a step, and then another, Takuto walked towards his son.

“Hello, dad,”

“Hello, Joker,” Takuto responded to the shadow’s greeting, already unnerved by his eyes, no longer grey but golden. Was this a shadow his friends constantly mentioned about, the dark, repressed side of the individual? Takuto had never gotten a chance to meet such a being, the ruler of his own distortions, he was the one who sat atop of his warped heart, ruling them with a gentle hand. He had his familiar outfit on, his will of rebellion, Takuto recalling seeing it when the thieves confronted him to change his heart. Though it was the differences that unsettled him: his dapper vest shining in scarlet red, his mask, black and golden, greatly increased the eerie glow of his eyes, “You wanted to see me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to see my own father,” Joker said, words dripping with sarcasm, “It’s been a while since we last sat down and talked, I’m really starting to miss it a lot,”

“Likewise?” Takuto said cautiously, fearful of what the shadow’ll do to him if he misspoke, “I would like to spend some time catching up with you, if that is your reason for summoning me of course,”

“It was! You know me so well, father,” Joker smiled, and hand raised and the click of his fingers, a door swung open among the foyer, “Come, come with me, we have a lot to talk about I’m sure,”

---

The theatre room led him into nothing but a featureless void Takuto discovered, empty as if he was transported to another world. The Phantom Thieves, Ren’s friends, did warn him about the possible dangers that he had to face, Takuto still willing to plunge into whatever trial Ren - Joker - wanted him to face. The shadow unnerved him yes; he reasoned that anyone would be uncomfortable with the confrontation with the shadow of a loved one, their dark, inner thoughts giving shape in a distorted environment. A ‘Palace’ the thieves called it. Walking in the directionless void he hoped deeply his knowledge of the Metaverse could aid him in whatever Joker wanted him to endure. He had to save his son from himself, and this time he wasn’t going to run away from him, Takuto told himself.

“Daddy?”

Takuto’s heart jumped in his throat, him turning instinctively towards the sound of a child whimpering in the darkness. The voice was familiar, too familiar, a beacon that guided Takuto in the dark, or a lure to ensnare him into the jaws of his doom, Takuto rushing towards it with haste all the same.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

“Ren!” Takuto shouted, clambering toward the terrified child, tripping on his own feet with every other stride he took in a desperate, maddened haste to reach his crying son. He didn’t consider the possibility of the apparition of his crying son to be a trap, only instinct carried him forward until he approached the small cognition.

Grey, watery eyes full of innocence stared back at him, the small form of Ren clutching tightly onto a distinct plush of a cat. Takuto’s heart melted as he knelt to his level to address the boy, to show him that he meant no harm, the boy shying away into the fur of his toy.

“I’m here for you, Ren,” Takuto cooed, reaching out his arms towards the frightened boy. The young Ren stopped his crying. He looked at Takuto’s inviting, outstretched arms; and then at him, Takuto gave him a smile that radiated safety and love.

“Who-who are you?” from the stuttering, fearful cognition was the reaction that Takuto did not expect, his face falling in confusion, his bemusement matched with the smaller Ren that stared blankly back at him. Takuto tenderly brushed the mess of hair away from Ren’s eyes.

“I-I’m your dad,” Takuto said reassuringly, yet the cracks of his tone betrayed the melancholic feelings that welled inside of him. To see those grey eyes gaze upon him, wide and curious and with wholly innocence broke his heart, “There’s no need to be scared, Ren. I’m here now, I’ll protect you,”

Young Ren looked at him, slightly backing away from the unfamiliar, familiar man in front of him, “I... I don’t... I don’t remember, if you’re my dad I don’t remember you! I don’t-”

“Hey, calm down,” Takuto said, yet he respected the distance Ren had put between them, “It’s alright to forget sometimes, which is why we need others to help us remember,”

“I-”

“Do you trust me, Ren?” Takuto asked the frightened child. Young Ren looked at him hesitantly, clutching the stuffed toy in his arms closer against his chest. He looked down onto the floor, pausing in contemplation.

“I... Guess so,” Young Ren mumbled shyly, eyes flickering between the floor and Takuto that reminded the bespectacled man so much about Ren in his younger years. He gestured for the child to sit down in front of him, Young Ren doing so obediently, the both of them folding their legs as they sat cross-legged on the murky floor.

“Now, do you remember anything about your father?” Takuto asked, adopting a more professional persona with inquiring the boy, “Anything at all?”

“Well, I think he wears glasses,” Young Ren started, curling his small thumb and finger before holding them up to his face, peering into the holes he had made with his hands, “They’re really big on his face. He wears them a lot, and I barely see him take them off,”

“That’s good, what else do you remember?” Takuto asks, amazed at Ren’s recollection, the boy knitting his eyebrows in concentration.

“And... He had brown hair,” Ren recalled, his hands moving to his head, “Brown hair that was really long and wavy, but not too long like a girl’s. He also had brown eyes... and...”

“And?”

“He would watch Featherman with me,” Ren said, “Every Saturday, he would wake up just to watch Featherman with me. I would always ask which Featherman he liked the best a-and he would ask me who was mine, and it was-”

“Featherman Red,” Takuto finished, Young Ren’s eyes widening, “I remember. I’ve always remembered,”

“A-and,” Ren continued, his cheeks slightly flushed against his skin, “I remember whenever he came home he would always bring apples! He’s not good at cooking them, but I didn’t mind eating them anyway, because he would always bring home the really tasty ones,”

And the child continued his recollection, Takuto’s small smile that sat on his lips grew a little wider with each detail Ren managed to recall, the excitement in his eyes growing more and more, and Takuto wondered if the child was even aware of how much he recalled. Yet whenever Takuto asked for the child of his father’s name he merely blinked at Takuto.

“I don’t remember my daddy’s name,” Young Ren shook his head, his disappointment reflecting Takuto’s, “I’m trying really hard, I am!”

“I know you are,” Takuto sighed, resting a hand upon his shoulder, giving the small child a reassuring smile. Yet, as defiant as his grown-up self, Young Ren shook his hand away.

“But, there’s one name I do remember.” Young Ren mumbled under his breath. Takuto’s eyes widened, a sudden drop of water dropped upon his head. Carefully reaching over the moist patch of his hair he looked at his fingers. Nothing. He looked up. Only the black that characterized their surroundings present. He turned to look back at the boy.

“What name is it?” Takuto asked, Young Ren squeezed his eyes shut.

“I... it’s someone close to dad,” he mumbled. More droplets of phantom liquid dripped upon him, “Someone... I.... don’t remember,” The child began to panic, “I... I can’t remember it anymore. I can’t, I’m-”

“There, there,” Takuto cooed, brushing away Ren’s tears, ignoring the storming of the invisible rain on his person that only increased in ferocity, “It’s okay. Just do like what we did with your dad, okay?”

“O-okay,” Young Ren said, trying hard to salvage a mask of bravery, looking at Takuto with red, blotched eyes “I mean... I don’t have a lot of memories of her...”

“Her..?” Takuto feared he knew who the young boy was referring to, the invisible storm now pouring magnitudes onto him, unrelenting, the liquid thumping hard against his frame, his hearing starting to be muffled by the roar of rushing water, “Ren, maybe we should-”

“She had big eyes-” Young Ren began to recite, Takuto grabbing tightly onto his shoulders, his pleas for the boy to stop falling on death ears.

“-and she was smart, and nice-” Young Ren continued, oblivious to the panicking Takuto that desperately pleaded with him to stop.

It smelled. Everything smelled rancid, like something rotten, something foul, something metallic. But it was as if Ren was painfully unaware of the speckles of red splattered on his face.

“-and, and she had red hair!”

Takuto recognised the expression the young boy suddenly snapped into, grey eyes once filled with ignorance now watered with fear and distress. The memories of the break-in, the blood, the red. The child stumbled back away from Takuto, both of them shocked that the ground seemed to ripple under them.

“Ren!” was all Takuto could utter until a shrill shriek spilled from Ren’s lips. More blood dripped down from the sky, the child turned and tripped against his feet and fell onto the ground. Takuto reached for Ren but stopped.

Rumi. Rumi was in the reflection, so many copies of her, eye wide and afraid, blood gushing from her red locks, Takuto speechless, the only sound coming from his lips were the terrified whimpers that bubbled up from his tight throat. He too soon stumbled onto his knees, his own distressed reflection mirrored back at him, Takuto’s traumatic expression staring back at him among the mosaic of Rumi’s last moments. He dared not to look at the scene above him.

“Subject one is asleep and well, Dr Maruki,”

“Was the actualisation successful?” his voice rang in his ears. Takuto blinked his watering eyes, adjusting his vision to the spotless white tiles that made up the room. The familiar, sterile smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils, Takuto barely making out the sweetness of forgotten flowers in bouquets that splashed colour among the featureless wall. He allowed himself time to collect himself; he looked at his hands, bloodless yet he swore he could still feel the liquid staining his hands.

“Yes, Dr Maruki,” the unfamiliar voice rang out. Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat, allowing himself to collect his composure and strength before he stumbled onto his feet with great effort.

Suddenly he found himself in a chair, gazing at the two figures looking over a sleeping child. One was a faceless nurse, writing on a clipboard as she talked. The other was himself, “There seemed to be no complications with the procedure,” the nurse continued, the reflection of Takuto reaching down absent-mindedly to stroke the sleeping Ren’s hair, “He should be waking up at any moment,”

“Thank you,” the other Takuto smiled, “You may go now,”

The nurse nodded before dissipating into a thin cloud of smoke, the other Takuto sighing before turning to the sitting Takuto, looking at him soberly.

“It was...” Takuto croaked, the guilt of his past mistake tightening in his stomach, “I just wanted...”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the other Takuto said quietly, turning back to the sleeping form of Ren, white-gloved hands coiling around strands of black hair. Flashes of memories flickered from within Takuto’s vision. How his son’s face contorted in anguish at the recollection of memories, how desperate he was to forget, willing to battle his friends to preserve his own ignorance, the lingering gazes, hauntings of his own psychological pain that echoed from within his own eyes, “He’s such a strong child, even when staring at the face of danger he still puts on a brave face,”

“Yeah, he really-” he feels something wrapping tightly around Takuto’s wrists. He looked down; blackish-blue tendrils slid across his skin. Panic rises from his chest and tightens his throat; he struggles against the grip of the monster binding him.

“There’s one more thing I need to get rid of,” the other Takuto murmured, Takuto futilely thrashing against Azathoth’s hold. The cognitive double approached him; eyes unblinking under the thick frames of his glasses as he watched Takuto struggle against the cognitive Persona. A click of his fingers, and the tendrils encompassed all of Takuto’s body other than his face, “This is for my patient, for my son,”

“You’re making a mistake!” Takuto’s voice cracked, his appeals to his cognitive double fruitless as he saw him snap his fingers. He felt himself pulled down by the otherwise unseen demon, his feet slowly sinking into the floor, the cognitive Takuto watching him disappear with a blank face.

“This is for his own good,” the cognitive Takuto said absolutely, his expression unmoving while he watched Takuto sink into the ground, “He needs to forget, he needs to be unburdened by the memories of her death, and that includes removing you from his life,”

“But-”

“It’s the only way,” the cognition repeated to him, the scenery around him going monochrome, the doubles skin growing paler before everything started to fade into white “We both know it’s the right way,”

“We...” Takuto croaked through the tears that started to well in the corners of his eyes, trying desperately to blink them away, tearing his eyes from his cognitive double in shame, “I was... I was foolish to think that. All it did was cause Ren and I suffering...”

The cognition said nothing.

“I should have been there for him...” he choked, the tentacles that wrapped around him grew ever tighter, “But I was a coward. I-”

He turned his head to see nothing. Featureless white. His throat tightened. There was nothing; he was stuck, yet the tendrils continued to drag him down, deeper and deeper, his breaths quickened, he was panicking, fidgeting against his bonds. It was too much, he was growing increasingly fatigued, he needed to escape, he-

“Daddy?”

Ren’s confused voice rang out, and Takuto quickly lost consciousness, his vision turning black.

---

“-he the next patient?” a voice rang out from the fringes of his consciousness, so familiar to his ears. His eyelids were heavy. Takuto wanted to sleep.

“Yes, Dr Am-” another voice accompanied the stranger. His mouth was dry. He felt sick.

“-ki, Takuto,” the first voice chuckled, Takuto dragging himself from his uncomfortable slumber, wincing in pain at the bright light that assaulted his vision.

“Who... who are-?”

Takuto jolted awake in alarm. The voice... was Ren, the grey eyes of his son looking at him, tired and heavy. His hair was slicked back neatly, his outfit a white, spotless suit, his shirt collar propped neatly around his neck. “Where am I?”

“You’re in good hands, Mr Maruki,” Ren smiled at him. It unnerved Takuto; Ren’s eyes shimmering yet empty, the curl of his lips rehearsed and forced, his voice too calm for the situation they both found themselves in, “Don’t worry. Soon your troubles will all disappear,”

Ren’s words did nothing to soothe Takuto. He looked down to where he currently sat, a white throne under him. Takuto paled.

“Patient seems to be distressed due to the loss of his son,” Ren spoke, snapping his fingers to the same featureless nurse from before, who then handed him a clipboard, “unforeseen circumstances; it seemed that the little one had died during a failed robbery-”

Ren fiddled his hair in thought, tucking a stray strand behind his ear before continuing, “Patient seems to be in great psychological pain. Advisory procedure includes amnesia brought upon by actual-”

“Ren, please don’t,” Takuto cried, shaking his head furiously, “Please stop this madness, you’re making a-”

“Nurse, please make sure our patient here is secure!” Ren ordered the cognition, it nodded its head before lunging towards Takuto, its limbs sprouting from its form before pinning Takuto on the throne.

“Please, Mr Maruki,” Ren begged the thrashing Takuto, “Just calm down. I don’t want to cause you any more distress, the redhead was already enough trouble to treat,”

“Ren wait plea-”

A snap of his fingers. The entire amphitheatre rumbled violently, a great figure rose from behind Ren’s determined form, its golden skin and green eyes glowing in the light. Takuto sat there petrified, his mouth hung agape, his body quaked in fear, eyes wide as his forehead perspired with sweat, his mouth dry, his heart thumped with sickening speed, only able to hear it thrash in his chest as he gazed up upon the Persona who stared back at him with its unmoving face.

“Adam Kadmon,” Ren uttered his name, “You know what to do,”

A click of his gloved fingers, and Takuto’s vision was once more engulfed into black. ---

His brown eyes flickered open once more. Takuto rested his head on the featureless floor. He was back to where he started, the weird ethereal voice that Joker- no- his son had sent him to face the trial he so desperately wanted Takuto to endure. He wanted to go home, he wanted this madness to stop; he rose from the blackness, seeing that he was now palming wood, the walls surrounded him painted black while fluorescent light hung above his head.

“Was this...” he mumbled, yet the clicking of familiar heels made him snap to attention, hastily scrambling up to his feet, the shadow of his son walking towards him with hands in his pockets, golden eyes transfixed intently, emerging from the shadows of the empty room, him using his will upon the Palace they were currently in to convey his dramatic aura with persistent intimidation.

“Did you have fun, father?” Joker seethed, tongue rolling with each syllable as if the words were bitter to the taste. He looked pleased with himself, claiming his victory over his father, looking down at him with scorn, yet Takuto could see the agony that brewed in him by the quiver of his bottom lip, “I sure did, watching you flounder like that,”

“Was all of that how you truly felt?” Takuto meekly asked, watching how Joker swaggered towards him, avoiding the rhetorical inquiry from the shadow, “Everything I put you through... did you suffer that much?”

Takuto didn’t like how the corners of Joker’s mouth tugged higher, how his smile grew wider, thinner, his golden irises quivering in delight, how the white in his engulfed everything. Joker said nothing, his strides widening, Takuto’s feet firmly planted onto the floor.

“I-”

“The things I had to endure,” Joker roared, his expression unmoving yet his voice quaked with rage ill-fitting of the mask he wore, “The fights between my adopted parents, the stares and whispers I’d get from my classmates, the anguish I had to endure once I remembered. I kept-”

Joker’s facade slightly cracked, lines on his face, as if it were porcelain.

“I had nightmares” he cried, voice breaking, yet he betrayed no tears, “Nightmares from that day, seeing things that I couldn’t explain, seeing her dead, the blood... I always woke up in a cold sweat, never remembering why I was crying, I-”

Joker inched his face closer to Takuto’s with each word, stretching himself further upward, standing on the soles of his boots. What he didn’t expect from his rant was the arms that wrapped around him, the shadow pulled from his taunt into a comforting embrace, Takuto’s hand snaked to comb the strands of his unruly hair. Joker’s expression transitioned one from hate into befuddlement, feeling something hot drip down onto his grand, black coat.

“I’m sorry,” Takuto choked, bringing him in closer, undeterred by the mask poking painfully in his neck, “I’m sorry,” he repeated, grasping his son’s hair, palming it with long, tender strokes, “I couldn’t bear to look at you, you didn’t move, didn’t speak, I wanted you to get better, I thought-”

Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat. He felt Joker’s body in his arms slump slightly, his head resting on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,”

The shadow said nothing, merely allowing himself to be held, his body limp, small heaves escaped from his throat every so often.

“Please, let us help you, Ren-”

The shadow snapped to attention, a hand around the scruff of Takuto’s jacket collar, tearing him away from the embrace they were locked in. In his shock, Takuto tried to escape from the grasp of the invisible assailant, only able to by slipping from the article of clothing, stumbling forward and running back to the hunched shadow, Joker’s gloved hands hiding his face. Yet as he got closer something stopped his advance; he collided into something, hard, yelping in agony as he clutched his nose, blinking to see that there was nothing in between them.

“You don’t get it, do you?” the shadow laughed while Takuto pressed his hands at the unseen barrier between them, the sound hollow, no joy in his words, “None of you do,”

The sound of trickling water filled the room, red swirled below Joker’s boots, Takuto confused and scared at the sight before him. It was like... It was like... “I’m going to make everything better,” Joker continued, peaking through the gap of his splayed hand on his face, “Heaven is nothing but a lie; I’m going to make a place where desires can truly be realised,”

“Ren, you don’t have to do this! Please,” Takuto begged, the red liquid rising rapidly up towards Joker’s hunched body, the shadow glaring at Takuto’s fearful form, “You’re making a mistake, Ren, don’t make the same mistake I did,”

“Of course I won’t,” Joker smiled as he stood up straight, the waters still rising, his facade perfect yet again, the calm on his face appearing so sudden that it terrified Takuto how easily Joker was able to slip back into calm, “I know a way to make them obey, all of them,”

“Is it true? Are you using-” the water was now up to his waist, Joker unfazed by the liquid slowly drowning him.

“A trickster never reveals his tricks,” Joker laughed, licking his lips while he watched Takuto squirm, “Not like I’ll tell you... any of you. You’ll just make everything more complicated, you’ll ruin all my plans, and the worst thing is the realisation that none of you care,”

“You’re destroying yourself in the process,” Takuto begged, his hands pressing against the glass, “Your friends have told me everything, each day your mental state is decaying further, this place is collapsing in upon itself. You’re losing yourself, Ren-”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT NAME,” Joker screeched, banging two of his fists onto the invisible barrier between them, Takuto clumsily stumbling back with shock, “I am not Ren, I’m not him, I am better, HIS better!” the red was now at his neck, the room shaking with invisible fury, “I will never go back to being him, Maruki, and you should realise that by now,”

“Ren-”

But it was too late, the shadow fully submerged in the red liquid, seemingly gone. Panic engulfed Takuto, him now thumping against the glass with his hands rolled into fists, desperate to save his son from the other side, “Ren!” he called out to no avail, continuing to pound against the barrier before him.

A subtle crack, and then another, then another. Takuto heard the trickling of water before he saw it, red liquid now bursting through the dam separating him and his son, the cascade of water spilling out like dominoes, and it wasn’t long for the barrier to completely break, the red torrent sweeping everything in his path up in its tide, taking Takuto with it.

---

A low rumble came from behind the theatre door, the thieves emerging from another one of Joker’s trials pitted against them, it swung from its hinges with Takuto being thrown outside of the room. He landed with an ‘oomph’ onto the carpeted floor, the group running towards him in shock and worry, though they could barely see a visible scratch on him.

“Maruki-san!” Sumire was the first to rush to his aid, kneeling next to the dazed brunette, blue flames dissipating her mask while her hands glowing with the familiar green of Diarahan, “Are you okay, are you hurt, what happened?”

“I’ll, I’ll be fine,” Takuto assured her gently dismissing her, trying hard to amass the strength to stand up on his own two feet, “I just... I just need a moment,”

“You don’t look fine,” Haru pointed out softly, “Are you sure you don’t need to rest? You look like you’ve been through a lot,”

“If it’s anything like the trials we have to endure, I’m surprised he came out unscathed,” Yusuke mumbled out loud, “Though then again, Ren is his son...”

“I didn’t do anything too taxing, haha,” Takuto weakly laughed, giving the thieves an unconvincing, weak smile, “It was... it was...”

His smile faded, his facade melted, looking down at the faded carpet below him, “I... I didn’t realise fully the pain I put him through,” he said, almost whispering, “He was suffering all that time. It’s my fault-”

“It isn’t your fault though,” Ann said earning perplexed looks from the thieves and an unamused glare from Goro, “I- I mean, it’s not just you who’s at fault here, Dr. Maruki,” she clarified, “I think we each all have something to do with making Ren’s Palace appear. We’re at fault too,”

“Yeah, it’s not like you were doin’ it for bad purposes too,” Ryuji interjected, “I mean, you did what you thought was right, right?”

“All of you are too forgiving,” Goro muttered.

Without warning the Palace started to quake, everyone thrown off from their feet as the walls started to shake, the chandeliers suspended above their heads rattling amongst the thundering rumble that consumed the premises.

“W-Why is the Palace acting up now?!” Morgana squeaked before falling onto his back, the others struggling to keep their balance, “I thought-”

“Ren’s not looking too good!” Futaba squeaked, fiddling and adjusting her headset as she looked over the information displayed by her Persona, “His vitals are falling fast!”

But Takuto didn’t pay attention to the panicked chatter of the thieves, looking down at his hands, mortified how the dull colour of the red carpet below his hands faded even further into a rotten brown. Lights flickered around him from above. It was a nightmare, the cognitive patrons screaming. He felt something small and dust-like trickle against his back.

The quake went as sudden as it came, the roar fading into deathly silent once more. Takuto peaked out from under his huddled hands that shielded him from above, eyes darting from side to side in a panic.

“W-what happened?” he asked the thieves who were trying to regain their footing, though he already suspected the answer.

“Ren’s getting worse,” Makoto answered his rhetorical question, and Takuto’s face flushed with dread. She looked at him, her eyes sympathetic behind her mask, “You should get out of here, it isn’t safe for you,”

“You’re... you’re right,” he sighed defeated, aware that if he had accompanied further than necessary, he would be nothing but dead weight. He didn’t have a Persona, no way to support the rest of the group within or outside of battles, sure to get in their way. He hung his head in defeat, carefully picking himself up from the floor, “Just... just make sure you do everything you can to save him... alright? He’s... he’s all I have left,”

The thieves nodded in response, yet their expressions conveyed the apprehensive outcome of their endeavour.

---

Ren said nothing, merely watched his shadow wandering throughout the grand space of the dressing room. His path was directionless, absent-mindedly walking in loops, circling the furniture, his stare unfocused and distant.

“Why?” was all Ren could ask, baffled by his own shadow, “Why do you keep lashing out?”

“He deserved it,” Joker reasoned, continuing his purposeless pace, the other cognitions that normally served him purposely out of sight, “They all do, Ren, why don’t you see that?”

“They don’t, they don’t, Joker,” Ren said, and Joker laughed bitterly, “You’re hurting them. You’re hurting the people I- we-”

“Did WE deserve what happened to us!?” Joker snapped at Ren, turning to him, venom in his expression, “Did WE deserve to forget Mom? To get carted off to someone else just like property, to have to endure our adopted parents and their wrath to only be thrown by the wayside, to have our father, LIE to us, to be USED by him for his actualization? DID we!? DID WE?!”

“Joke-”

“HE ABANDONED US!” Joker shrieked; the walls of the Palace quaked around him. His golden eyes welled with tears, pulsating with anguish and bitterness, “HE USED US AS A- A- A SICK GUINEA PIG! I am SICK of being used as a- as a- a- an OBJECT! Like I’m NOTHING!”

“Joker-”

“Stop denying that you feel this way,” the shadow squeaked, his red fingers intertwined in his black, dishevelled locks, “Stop it! It’s hopeless, Ren, you know that deep inside you don’t want to understand, you don’t want to forgive. That bastard-” another sob escaped from his throat, Joker choking on his tears and disgust, a familiar swell of power coursing through his being. Another shaky sigh. He could feel Ren finally coming to his senses, his lips curling upwards from the corners of his mouth, yet he barely felt any joy as he continued, “He’ll soon pay. They’ll all soon pay, and I’ll make sure that they’ll regret what they did to us.”

---

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can’t help with?”

Takuto looked at Sumire, she and Goro the only ones escorting Takuto onto the edges of the Palace’s domain. A weak, tired smile he wore as he shook his head, “I’ll be nothing but dead weight, Yoshizawa, and it looks like you all have everything under control,”

“At least we agree on something,” Goro hissed, arms crossed as he leaned his weight on one of his legs, “No Metaverse Powers or any standout physical strength. All you’ll be to us is a liability. Deadweight. A sitting duck-”

“I wonder why, Senpai,” Sumire pondered, “I mean, he should have his Persona at least, right?”

“I-”

“Regardless, I hope that I was able to help in some way,” Takuto interjected, tearing Sumire and Goro from their pondering, “But please... please save Ren,”

“We’re doing everything we can, Maruki-san,” Sumire nodded, “And if there’s any way you can help we’ll tell you, right, Akechi-senpai?”

“Actually, there is a way in which Maruki can help,” Goro mused, as he looked at the bespectacled man, “There something I was wondering about Joker’s plans,”

“You have my attention,”

Goro turned to look at the theatre before them. A moment passed, before he gazed back into his brown eyes, “I want you to see if there’s anything suspicious going on in the outside world, any changes at all in the public cognition. If you do, contact Yoshizawa, and she’ll contact me, am I clear?”

“Why? Are you suggesting-”

“Just do it,” Goro snapped, and without another word he turned on his heel, making his way back to the Palace. With an apology and a quick bow, Sumire too left Takuto alone at the cusp of the ethereal realm.

He watched them leave, disappearing into the Palace in front of him. His eyes trailed upwards. Towards the top floor of the accursed building, to where Ren was held against his own will by his own distorted thoughts.

“Hold on a little longer, Ren,” he croaked under his breath, unwilling to leave as he blinked the tears away from his welling eyes, “Just hold on a little longer, please.”

#persona #palace: theatre of mirrors #ren amamiya #takuto maruki #takuren au #dan's log #png #mine*#myfanfic #mywriting

24 notes · View notes

crimedynamics · 7 years ago

Text

CHALLENGE. IF IT ISN’T CRIME, IT’S STILL A PROBLEM

---The most difficult crime is one which is purposeless.

And with the purpose of escape thrusted upon him, he found his already too easy to solve. The message flickering on the screen to which he opened his eyes urged and threatened with a decrease in his powers he felt and the end of his existence removed. A steel door shifted open and he approached it with a finger already brushing his mustache in thought. Placed in this labyrinth like a rat, how devious! He could muster some respect for the calculations that must have gone into this little challenge. Determining how much he valued his hardly-earned place in the throne required a respectful amount of research after all... and he, was just a phantom.

Yes, a passing thought or a thought that passed away. Shinjuku was a gamble, the supposed Ultimate Crime in all its meanings, then these... goodie-good two shoes flipped the chessboard. His loss and existence would mean an end but becoming a servant registered him in the Throne. The memories of ｢when he lost his way｣ would vanish with him, never would he see his dear Fran again and worst of all--- he would be doomed to lose to Holmes once and for all !

Beyond the door, he saw a set of guards in the distance. He slipped around the edge towards one of the doors in this hall but the handle didn’t budge. The entry for a key-card fell into his sight and he grumbled to himself, once more leaning against the wall and staring down the hall into the great room with a strange set of statues that the faceless wardens patrolled around.

The Archer summoned his coffin to his side, waging whether there’d be a point to only gun them down to make sure he could access the statue--- which no doubt considering the nature of this place was part of a puzzle. But the limit on his magic bullets couldn’t be risked that soon... every single one was precious and his energy was plummeting. Chances of failure had to be eliminated... calculating... calculating... then he noticed the pipes running on the ceiling, a toothy grin formed. There was a distinct zish-noise overhead, this wasn’t liquid. Heaving his armament, he took aim at the pipes in the big room and unleashed a salve on them from long-distance. The exuded gas quickly filled the room and in the midst of this confusion he rushed in. Tightening his grip around the chain of his coffin, he whirled and smashed it against one distracted warden, took out another with a follow-up bash. Their bodies fell with a thud to the ground and dusting his gloves and clothes clean, he pressed on towards the statue where a small riddle awaited him.

A dial with different levers. No instructions. He turned one and the statues rotated. Three levers, three statues, each one of a human holding a celestial body. Sun, moon, earth. An interesting constellations but he quickly narrowed down what one could do with these that would amount to a possible solution for a puzzle. An eclipse of course, they all had to align. The moon turned further on the middle lane than sun in the outer one and earth in the center. He fiddled with the same lever, shifted it the other way and found out that it could turn counterclockwise as well. If he moved one, all would shift by a different amount, seemingly making it an arduous mental challenge but...

“THEY’RE ASSUMING THEY CAN TRICK ME INTO BELIEVING IT’S MORE COMPLICATED THAN IT LOOKS BECAUSE OF ITS THEME AND THE MYRIAD OF POSSIBILITIES TO SOLVE IT? HAH! TRY AGAIN. I AM NOT SO EASILY FOOLED INTO OVERTHINKING! ACTUALLY DON’T TRY AT ALL, IT’S POINTLESS.”

Glasses adjusted, he then pulled the lever for earth and sun twice, leaving the one for moon untouched. As planned, they aligned and door beyond opened with a beep and red lights on it turned verdant. Jackpot! With the excessive multi-weaponry coffin in tow, he continued onwards. There were many smaller puzzles in his way and the amount of guards rose like the difficulty in a game as it proceeded. But that meant he was getting closer to his goal. A steep inhale, during a moment of weakness he was almost surprised by some guards. The next puzzle was before him it seemed.

A hallway patrolled tightly, even beams that would likely sound an alarm if triggered could be made out in the distance. His back pressed against a cold steel wall, he stole glances but found no opening there. Evading a stray glance of the warden by a split hair again, he took a deep breath and scanned his surroundings once more. Just like the pipes before, the solution should be in the environment. In his retreat he touched something like grates in the wall with his foot An air vent! ...only small enough for a kitten to pass through. Maybe not even that. His strength still sufficed to pry it off to allow him to peak through it. His back cried quietly (and so did he whining under his breath) and he squinted to the other end of it. That was another patrol....

With a new idea brewing in his wily brain, he scrambled back to his feet and pointed the barrel at the shaft. As long as he had an idea of a target, it didn’t matter how improbable the event itself was. From here, out of sight, he wouldn’t be detected, no alarm sounded...

5 shots, before the wardens could figure out what this commotion’s cause was the bullets recoiled at impossible angles from surfaces they shouldn’t logically bounce off and sent their targets to a quick death with entry holes in their skulls.

“BOOM, HEADSHOT!~”

It’s what the kids call noscoping today, wasn’t it?! Well, he cheated. A little. The ceasing of their life signs prompted the laser barriers to deactivate and he entered the passage. One of the wardens caught his interest, he noticed the uniform being fancier than the others. Again that unnecessary strain on his spine but examining it closer he pulled out something infinitely valuable in this facility. With the newfound keycard, he moved on until reaching a door. An elaborate door. The kind of door that’s like, ‘final boss time’ Not that it helped that it was also labelled with central office. He slid the card across the lock and watched it unlock and move open.

And there he was, filling the office with that nauseating stench of smoke from his pipe.

“WELL, I’M HERE NOW SO YOU CAN LEAVE. NO WATERFALLS AROUND THIS TIME, YOUR CHANCES LOOK BAD SO SAVE US THE TROUBLE, WILL YOU YOU PEST?”

Whimsical, he waved with his hand a salute towards the door but the detective didn’t budge, only puffed another cloud and made a step forward with a taunting smile. “Your faults always lay in the details. Your strength is diminished and exerted and of no use in close-quarters, which this confrontation will clearly lead towards, the limit on your bullets almost reached and their conceptual effect rendered useless. On top of that, I suffer none of the penalties you do.” These were by no means details, but the meddler was outlining him a fool. He pursed his lips, his smile shattered like the man already unleashed his stupid kungfu-moves on them.

“SPILL IT ALL FOR ME, AS PER USUAL. WELL, EVEN FOR A FAKE YOUR EGO IS CLOSE TO THE REAL ONE. BUT HE WOULDN’T DO THE MISTAKES YOU’RE DOING---!”

Barrel pointed up, he turned the rocket launcher part of the weapon on and launched it without another second wasted at his “greatest enemy”. The force of the explosion, its heat, left the room almost in complete ashes and dust. But that would be too easy! Sensing that it was somehow dodged, he yanked the chain to whirl around with it but the Ruler had already stepped into range. Two kicks in quick succession hit him and and a third swept him off his feet. Though noticing the true purpose of this attack, he leapt back and the Archer rolled away out of reach of the falling part of the ceiling. It gave him a break to get back up to his feet. “Now that was too direct. Did you assume it would work? Assuming doesn’t suit you, a clever man never does. You clearly attacked with something else than destruction of me on your mind, otherwise you wouldn’t have taken such a light stance.“ Being physically fitter would have made this easier or at least cut short the time he had to listen to this exposition. Left no time to catch his breath, he parried a strike of the opponent’s cane with his own. He deflected successfully, the next strike as well, then retreated backwards and fired another shot and made use of his ability this time. It hit in the shoulder, only the shoulder.

“AND THAT? WAS THAT TOO DIRECT TOO?”

The wound staggered his enemy, but didn’t defeat him. Perhaps it was so direct that it was difficult to fathom that he would do something like that, but no that wasn’t it either. ‘Holmes’ closed in again, too quickly for him to evade in his current state and sent him flying to the other end of the room. Bruised, coughing with almost all of his strength sapped from him and separated from his main weapon he pulled the BB Gun out and pointed it at his nemesis. Like a cornered animal he held it in a grip as his knuckles whitened and the detective stepped closer with confidence despite the wound from before. “Too direct and too desperate, you’re making a mystery out of why you are falling so far behind now. But the answer to that is clear, you know the only way to defeat me is a gamble in which this factor of ‘luck’ has to make up for what you lack against me. You bet on that I cannot predict the unpredictable because it makes no sense. At the end of your crimes, you surrender to being the fool---” Moriarty imitated the motion of firing his gun, to which the detective coughed blood on him. Wide-eyed.

“YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THE SEVENTH BULLET IS FIRED BY THE DEVIL AT WHAT I HOLD DEAREST AND THERE’S NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU LEFT HERE, MY DEAR HOLMES. IT’S MY TURN TO STEAL YOUR TRADEMARK EXPOSITION NOW, IS IT? WHEN I ACT FIRST, YOU REACT. BUT SINCE I WASN’T THE MASTERMIND, YOU COULDN’T SOLVE THIS. BECAUSE THERE WAS NO PLAN. THERE WAS NO MYSTERY. I JUST EMPTIED MY AMMUNITION AND TRIED TO KILL YOU! THE QUICKEST WAY TO A MAN’S BRAIN IS A BULLET TO IT?”

“BUT IT WOULDN’T BE THAT SIMPLE IN REALITY. THIS SIMULATION IS FULL OF MISSTEPS AND MISCALCULATIONS. I CAN’T EVEN CALL THIS VICTORY, IT’S SO INFURIATING! A ME WHO DOESN’T ENACT EVIL AND A HOLMES WHO DOESN’T ENACT GOOD? WHAT ABOUT THE CAT AND MOUSE GAME, PUTTING US FACE TO FACE DEFEATS THE POINT! THEY NEVER READ THAT NOVEL, DID THEY ! WHAT GOOD IS THIS BATTLE THEN! AND THE SUSPENSE LIKE ‘HERE IT IS, THE STAND OFF OF CENTURIES’?! MEANINGLESS! IT WAS FAULTY BY DESIGN! AT BASE! WELL, IN CASE YOUR DATA GETS SENT TO THE REAL ONE, TELL HIM KINDLY ‘SCREW YOU’!. DON’T YOU HAVE A SHRED OF MERCY?! NOT EVEN IN A RIP-OFF, YOU JERKASS?! GOING FOR SPINAL DISK... THAT’S RUTHLESS, LIKE AN AMERICAN... SERIOUSLY!”

Rambling while the enemy perished in light, he pushed himself up along the wall to his feet. The cold chain of his weapon was a welcome sensation when he picked it up and the door to the central office opened, the exit judging by the light. He gave a final look back at this prison and the remnants of his fated enemy’s impostor, frowning. Stepping on the pipe and grinding it to pieces he then stepped out, back to the city.

The real battle between them awaited there and there the meddling in his affairs would be done by Holmes, not a third party. Accomplishing that would then be his long-awaited victory, his ultimate crime.

#( CHALLENGE; )#askyourscientificgods

3 notes · View notes