Persona Simulator

"That's normal," *Morgana says, walking over with his arms crossed — a gesture that looks ridiculous on a bipedal cartoon cat but he sells it with sheer attitude.* "When you first awaken, your Persona manifests with an explosive burst of energy. Think of it like... popping a cork. All that repressed power comes flooding out at once. But it's a one-time thing. From now on, what you have is what you **build**."

"Took me like a week before I could use Captain Kidd without getting a nosebleed," *Ryuji says, hands in his pockets.* "You'll get there."

"The core issue isn't power," *Ren says, standing back up.* "It's efficiency. You burned enough SP to kill those two Orobas about four times over. If you'd focused that first volley into two or three targeted shots instead of spraying the whole tunnel, you'd still have gas in the tank."

*Yusuke nods from the back.* "Precision over volume. A single brushstroke placed correctly conveys more than a hundred careless ones."

"Also you need to learn to **dodge**," *Ann adds bluntly, offering you a small bottle that she pulls from somewhere.* "Drink this. It'll restore some SP."

*The liquid inside is bright blue and tastes like someone dissolved a battery in Gatorade. But warmth spreads through your chest and Aether stirs faintly at the edge of your consciousness again.*

*Ren watches you drink, then looks at the group.* "Verdict?"

"Raw talent's there for sure," *Futaba says.* "Just needs to not die."

"I like him," *Ryuji shrugs.* "He's got guts."

*Ren turns to you.* "We'll keep training you. But you're not coming to the Palace until I say you're ready. Deal?"

"That's normal," *Morgana says, hopping up onto a railing to be at conversation height.* "When you first awaken, your Persona erupts with everything it has — it's a survival mechanism. Like adrenaline letting a mother lift a car off her kid. But you can't replicate that at will. The power you have **right now** is your actual baseline."

"And your baseline is strong," *Ren says, standing up.* "Stronger than most of us were when we started. That's not the problem."

"The problem is you fight like a DPS player with no game sense," *Futaba translates helpfully from above.*

"I was going to say 'no discipline' but sure."

*Ryuji extends a hand and hauls you to your feet. His grip is stronger than it looks.* "For what it's worth bro, my first real fight I broke my own knuckle punching a shadow in the face, so you're not the worst debut we've seen."

"You did what?" *Haru asks, sounding genuinely concerned despite this apparently being old news.*

"It was badass at the time!"

"It was not," *Ann and Morgana say simultaneously.*

*Ren reaches into his coat and pulls out a small glass bottle filled with something shimmering.* "Drink this. It'll restore some of your SP." *You take it. It tastes like someone liquified a cough drop and added sugar.* "We're going to run more fights. But this time you conserve. No beams, no barrages. Chains and revolver only. Learn to fight without burning everything you have."

*He fixes you with those grey eyes.* "A Phantom Thief who can't pace themselves is a liability. Understood?"

"That's normal," *Morgana says, hopping up onto a piece of debris to lecture-height.* "When you first awaken, there's a massive surge of power — your Persona manifests at full force because the emotional breakthrough is so intense. It's like... an adrenaline rush for your soul. But that's not sustainable. What you have **now** is your actual baseline."

"Think of it this way," *Makoto steps forward, arms crossed.* "Yesterday was you lifting a car off someone in a crisis. Today is you trying to bench press that car at the gym. Different situation entirely."

"Everyone went through it," *Ann says, standing up and offering you a hand.* "My first awakening I literally melted Kamoshida's cognition soldiers like butter. Next fight I could barely light a candle."

"I broke a Palace wall with my Persona first time," *Ryuji adds with a grin.* "Day two I punched a Shadow and hurt my own fist more than it."

*Haru giggles softly.* "I may have... accidentally launched Mona-chan into a ceiling with my axe on my second outing."

"We agreed never to bring that up," *Morgana says stiffly.*

*Ren stands, pulling a small glass bottle from his coat — blue liquid sloshing inside. He tosses it to you.* "Drink that. It'll restore some SP."

*You catch it, barely. The liquid tastes like carbonated toothpaste and sadness, but warmth floods back into your limbs almost immediately. Aether stirs faintly in your chest.*

"Your instincts aren't bad," *Ren says, adjusting his gloves.* "The chains into the focused beam — that was smart. You adapted when the first thing didn't work. You just need to learn resource management. Don't empty the tank in one go."

*He turns to the group.* "Verdict?"


Charlie

*I nod, drinking the bottle without question.* Deal. Though i'm going to want to bully you guys in basketball or something to feel a bit better about myself at some point...


Persona Simulator

"Basketball?" *Ryuji's eyes light up like someone just offered him free ramen.* "Dude, **yes**. I'm down. Name the time."

"You realize he's like two meters tall, right?" *Ann says, eyeing the height difference between Ryuji and you.* "He'd destroy you."

"Height ain't everything! I got speed!"

"You have a bad knee," *Morgana says casually, and the temperature drops about three degrees. Ryuji's grin falters for just a second before he forces it back.*

"Ey, shut it, cat. It's fine for basketball."

*Ren diffuses it by stepping forward.* "We'll do a few more rounds. Lighter enemies this time. Focus on single-target attacks and conserving energy. Oracle, find us something weak to Bless."

*The next hour is grueling in a completely different way than your solo run last night. Ren doesn't let you waste a single drop of SP. Every time you start charging up something flashy he calls out "half power" or "one shot only" and makes you pull back. It's maddening. Like being asked to whisper when you want to scream.*

*But it works. By the sixth fight you're dropping Shadows in two clean hits instead of burning everything on one. Aether's chains become crowd control rather than a finishing move. The revolver fills gaps between Persona attacks.*

"Better," *Ren says after you cleanly dispatch an Succubus with a single focused beam.* "Much better."

*By the time the group exits Mementos, the sun is setting over Shibuya. Everyone de-transforms back into normal teenagers.*

"Beef bowls," *Ryuji announces to nobody in particular.* "I need beef bowls immediately."


Charlie

Amamiya-san's paying then, leaders responsibility. *As all of us sit down to eat at Ore no Beko my eyes keep glancing over to Ann, a faint blush on my cheeks.* So this is a strange question, but where do you guys actually "keep" stuff? I still dont get how I can fit a revolver in my clothes but Ann you've got an SMG in a- *I pause, trying to think of the correct wording.* Outfit without obvious pockets.


Persona Simulator

*Ann pauses mid-bite of her beef bowl, chopsticks hovering. She looks down at herself, then back up at you with an expression caught between amusement and suspicion.*

"You've been thinking about where I keep my gun?"

"Smooth, dude," *Ryuji snickers into his rice.*

*Your blush deepens approximately three shades. Ann lets you twist for a second before taking mercy.*

"Honestly? I have no idea," *she laughs, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.* "It's a cognition thing. You just reach for it and it's **there**. I don't have pockets, you're right. The bodysuit is..." *She gestures vaguely at herself.* "What you see is what you get. But the gun just materializes in my hand when I want it."

"It's the same principle as the outfits themselves," *Makoto explains, somehow making a beef bowl look dignified.* "The Metaverse responds to cognition. If you believe you're armed, you are. The specifics of **where** don't really apply."

"I keep my katana on my hip," *Yusuke offers.* "Though I have occasionally pulled it from locations I cannot logically explain."

"Don't elaborate on that," *Futaba says without looking up from her phone.*

*Ren quietly slides his bill across the table toward you. Written on a napkin underneath it: 'leaders don't pay. new guys do.'*

*He sips his coffee with zero expression.*

*Ann leans slightly toward you, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smile.* "For the record, I asked the same question when I first awakened. The answer really is just 'don't think about it.' Also — were you staring, Silver?"

*Ann pauses mid-bite of her beef bowl, chopsticks hovering. She looks down at herself — currently in her normal school uniform — then back at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin that says she knows exactly what you were trying not to say.*

"You mean how do I fit a gun in a skin-tight latex catsuit?"

"He was trying to be polite about it," *Haru observes, delicately picking at her rice.*

"It's cognition," *Morgana explains from inside Ren's bag on the seat, muffled slightly by the zipper.* "The Metaverse operates on perception and belief. You **know** the weapon is there, so it is. You reach for it and it materializes. The actual physics of where it's stored don't apply."

"Basically don't think about it too hard," *Ryuji says through a mouthful of beef.* "I tried once and got a headache."

"The same principle applies to our outfits," *Makoto adds, setting her tea down.* "They're manifestations of our rebellious selves. They don't follow conventional logic."

"Which is fortunate for Yusuke, given that his has no shirt," *Futaba says without looking up from her phone.*

"The fox aesthetic demanded it," *Yusuke replies with zero defensiveness.* "The exposed torso represents vulnerability in pursuit of artistic truth."

"It represents you being a weirdo," *Futaba fires back.*

*Ann leans slightly toward you, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smile.* "For the record, I asked the same question when I first awakened. The answer really is just 'don't think about it.' Also — were you staring, Silver?"


Charlie

*I kick Ren's shins under the table but still pull out my wallet with a sigh.* I mean I was but more out of confusing, I uh...
*I go quiet, which more makes everybody listen in rather than forget I was talking.* Like older women so. no worries there haha..ha.


Persona Simulator

*Dead silence at the table. Then chaos.*

"OLDER WOMEN?!" *Ryuji half-shouts, nearly choking on a piece of beef.* "Dude you've been in Japan for like **two days**!"

*Ann's eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly leave her face, her mouth forming a perfect O before she snorts.* "Oh my god, okay, I don't know if I should be relieved or offended."

"Why would you be offended?" *Makoto asks, genuinely confused.*

"I **wouldn't** be, I said — never mind!"

*Futaba has put her phone down. This is apparently more interesting than whatever she was doing.* "Define older. Like college age? Working age? Are we talking Christmas cake territory here or—"

"Futaba," *Haru says gently, though she's hiding a smile behind her hand.*

"What! It's important data!"

*Ren takes another sip of coffee, completely unbothered, though his eyes are gleaming with something dangerously close to amusement. He glances at you sideways.*

"Kawakami-sensei was pretty flustered today after you left the faculty room."

*HOW DOES HE KNOW THAT.*

*Your face must betray your panic because Ren just shrugs.* "She's my homeroom teacher too. I had to drop off a paper. She was face-down on her desk mumbling about boundaries."

*Ryuji is grinning so wide it looks painful.* "Bro. **Bro.** You've got a thing for Kawakami-sensei?"

</succinct_delineated_thinking_box>

*The table goes quiet. Not awkward quiet — **predatory** quiet. The kind of quiet that happens when sharks smell blood.*

"Older women," *Ryuji repeats slowly, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.* "Like... **how** much older we talkin' here?"

"Skull," *Makoto warns, though she's clearly fighting back a smile herself.*

"Nah nah nah, this is important intel! The new guy's got a type!"

*Ann leans back in her seat, arms crossed, looking at you with renewed interest.* "Huh. Here I was thinking you were checking me out and you're actually into the MILF category. That's... honestly kind of refreshing? Most guys our age are way too obvious about it."

"There is no shame in appreciating mature beauty," *Yusuke says with complete sincerity, as if discussing fine art.* "The elegance that comes with age and experience—"

"Please stop helping," *you mutter.*

*Futaba is typing furiously on her phone, cackling.* "This is going in the group chat archives. Tagged and timestamped. 'Silver admits to MILF preference, 6:47 PM.'"

*Haru covers her mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.* "Oh my..."

*Ren just sips his coffee, but his eyes flick toward you with something that might be amusement — or solidarity. Hard to tell with that poker face.*

"So," *Ryuji props his chin on his hand, grinning like the cat that got the cream,* "Kawakami-sensei, huh?"

*You choke on your water.*


Charlie

Ren I am going to find the tallest place in your attic and hide every single thing you own there. *But the damage is already done.* Thats not- I mean- *Crossing my arms I huff, pushing out my chest.* Thats information i'll only reveal if every other person at this table admits who they're crushing on.


Persona Simulator

</thinking>

*The table erupts into defensive chaos.*

"Pass!" *Ryuji says immediately, shoving more beef into his mouth like it'll protect him.* "Hard pass! Next question!"

"I have no such worldly attachments," *Yusuke declares with the confidence of someone who is definitely lying.* "My passion is reserved solely for art."

"That's not a no," *Futaba mutters, fingers already twitching toward her phone like she's got dirt ready to deploy.*

*Ann suddenly finds her beef bowl **extremely** interesting, poking at the rice with intense focus. Makoto's posture goes rigid — student council president mode engaged as a defense mechanism. Haru just smiles serenely, which is somehow the most threatening response.*

*Ren sets his coffee down.* "Interesting negotiation tactic. Unfortunately for you, I don't have crushes."

"BULLSHIT," *Ryuji and Ann say in perfect unison.*

"Joker has max charm stats and he **knows** it," *Futaba says accusingly.* "I've **seen** his phone. The amount of women texting him is statistically improbable."

*Ren's expression doesn't change but there's a faint tightness around his eyes that suggests Futaba just committed treason.*

"So what you're saying," *Makoto cuts in, clearly trying to redirect,* "is that you're attracted to Kawakami-sensei specifically, or just... teachers in general?"

*She immediately looks like she regrets asking.*

*The table goes nuclear. Everyone starts talking at once.*

"NOPE. Nope nope nope," *Ryuji says, suddenly fascinated by his beef bowl.* "This ain't happening. Eat your food, people."

"Skull's deflecting, which means he has one," *Futaba announces with the clinical detachment of a nature documentary narrator.* "Noted."

"I do NOT—"

"I have no romantic attachments at present," *Yusuke says with complete serenity.* "My passion is devoted entirely to art. Though I will admit the female form in its—"

"Fox, please stop talking," *Ann interrupts, her cheeks pink. She's stirring her bowl with aggressive focus.* "And I'm not answering that. **Pass.**"

"You can't pass, Panther just admitted the rules," *Futaba fires back, practically vibrating.* "If you pass, it means you have one."

"THAT'S NOT HOW LOGIC WORKS, FUTABA."

*Makoto has gone very still, her chopsticks frozen halfway to her mouth. The faintest dusting of red sits on her cheeks and she is looking absolutely nowhere near anyone.* "This is... not an appropriate dinner conversation."

"Queen's got one too," *Futaba says gleefully.*

*Haru sips her tea, perfectly composed.* "I think it's a lovely question, actually."

*Everyone turns to Haru. She smiles warmly and says absolutely nothing else.*

*Ren leans back in his chair, arms crossed, wearing the exact expression of a man who has no intention of answering and enjoys watching others squirm.*

*You've successfully deflected. But you've also started a war.*

🚫🦙</thinking>

*The table goes quiet again, but this time it's the dangerous kind of quiet. Glances are exchanged. Ryuji suddenly finds his beef very interesting. Ann takes a long sip of her drink. Yusuke appears to be contemplating the ceiling tiles with artistic intensity.*

"Passing," *Makoto says immediately, her cheeks slightly pink.* "I refuse to participate in this."

"Same," *Futaba says, pulling her hood up.* "I plead the fifth. Or whatever the Japanese equivalent is."

"There isn't one," *Makoto mutters.*

*Haru giggles softly.* "Oh my, this got personal quickly."

*Ryuji breaks first, because of course he does.* "A-Alright fine! I don't got a **crush** crush, but Ann's hot, everyone knows Ann's hot, that's not even a confession that's just having eyes—"

"RYUJI!" *Ann kicks him under the table hard enough to make the dishes rattle.*

"OW! You **are** though!"

*Ren remains infuriatingly calm, stirring his coffee.* "I'm not playing."

"Coward," *you say.*

"Leader's privilege." *He doesn't even look up.* "Also I know things about everyone at this table that would make this game very unfair."

*The implied threat hangs in the air. Several people suddenly look nervous.*

*Ann, still red from Ryuji's outburst, points her chopsticks at you.* "Fine. You win this round. Go chase Kawakami-sensei if you want, weirdo. But if she gives our whole class extra homework because you made it awkward, I'm blaming **you**."

*The table goes nuclear. Everyone starts talking at once.*

"NOPE. No. Absolutely not happening," *Ryuji says immediately, his face going red so fast it's like someone flipped a switch. He shoves an enormous wad of rice into his mouth as a defensive mechanism.*

"Pass," *Ann says breezily, suddenly very interested in her beef bowl. The tips of her ears are pink though.*

*Makoto's posture goes rigid — full student council president lockdown mode.* "That's— this isn't— we're in a **public restaurant**."

"I am in love with art," *Yusuke says with complete sincerity. Everyone ignores him.*

*Futaba pulls her hood up over her head and physically retreats into it like a turtle.* "I plead the fifth. That's an American thing right? I plead it."

*Haru takes a delicate sip of her tea, perfectly composed.* "My, what a fun question." *She smiles warmly and offers absolutely nothing else. Terrifying.*

*Morgana, from inside Ren's bag on the floor, mutters just loud enough for the whole table to hear:* "Lady Ann, obviously."

"MONA!" *Ann shrieks.*

*Every head swivels to Ren, the last holdout. He sets his coffee down, looks you dead in the eyes, and says:*

"No comment."

*Ryuji pounds the table.* "THAT MEANS THERE'S SOMEONE. JOKER HAS A CRUSH. **WHO IS IT.**"

"Beef bowl's getting cold," *Ren says, picking his chopsticks back up.*


Charlie

IVE SAID NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS YOU FU-

*And the rest of the evening goes on like that and before long i'm back home...Or I should be, like yesterday I've gotten off at my last stop and snuck into mementos.*
I've got to get stronger, I can't be a burden to the team... *I mutter as I trudge deeper down into the tunnels than yesterday, the food and rest having restored me enough to keep going.*


Persona Simulator

*Level two is different from level one. The tunnels are wider but darker, the red veins on the walls pulsing slower, heavier. The ambient hum has dropped an octave into something that vibrates in your stomach. The escalator down creaked ominously under your weight in a way that felt personal.*

*Ren's training echoes in your head as you move. Single target. Conserve. Precision over volume.*

*First encounter: a lone Koropokkuru, a tiny fairy-like thing sitting on a leaf. You dispatch it with one clean beam from Aether's mirror. Barely any SP spent. Good.*

*Second encounter: two Inugami, spectral dogs with matted fur and burning eyes. You wrap one in chains while shooting the other with the revolver. Three shots this time instead of six — you're actually aiming now. Both go down clean. Your breathing stays steady.*

*Third encounter: an Oni, squat and muscular, carrying a massive club. It hits harder than anything on level one. The first swing whistles past your head close enough to ruffle your hair. You sidestep the second — dodging, like Ann said — and put a focused beam through its chest. It dissolves.*

*You're learning. It's working.*

*Then you round a corner into a wider chamber and stop dead.*

*Something is sitting in the middle of the room. Not a Shadow — or at least not like any you've seen. A figure in a tattered black cloak, hunched over, chains wrapped around its body. It's shaking. Whimpering.*

*It looks up at you with hollow eyes.*

"...help me..."

*The second level of Mementos is noticeably different from the first. The tunnels are wider but darker, the red veins in the walls pulsing with a slower, heavier rhythm. The ambient hum has dropped in pitch — less buzzing, more like a heartbeat. The air is thicker too, carrying a dampness that clings to your white coat.*

*You apply what Ren drilled into you. Single targets. Focused shots. Conserve SP.*

*First encounter: A lone Mokoi. Ugly little thing, looks like a stitched-together doll with too-long arms. One chain grab to hold it, one focused beam through the chest. Clean kill. Barely any SP spent.*

"Good," *you mutter to yourself.*

*Second encounter: An Ippon-Datara. Cyclopean blacksmith Shadow, big and slow with a hammer that could flatten you. You keep distance, use the revolver to chip at it while Aether's chains keep it tangled. When it breaks free you dodge — actually dodge this time, Ren's voice in your head saying 'what happens if a third Shadow shows up' — and finish it with a beam to its single eye. Takes about three minutes. Efficient.*

*Third encounter is where it goes sideways.*

*You round a corner and walk straight into a pack of four Onmoraki — bird-like Shadows with skeletal wings and Curse-element attacks. Your weakness. Four of them.*

*The first one screeches and a wave of dark energy ripples toward you before you can even think about retreating.*


Charlie

W-What the fuck. *I keep my distance from the thing, but I dont attack it. Yet.*
You've got 5 seconds to convince me you're not an enemy before I treat you like one...


Persona Simulator

*The figure flinches at your voice, curling tighter into itself. The chains wrapped around its body clink and rattle with the movement. Up close you can see its face — or a face, distorted and pale, features sliding in and out of focus like a bad signal. Male, maybe. Young. Hard to tell when the whole thing keeps flickering.*

"Please... I can't... I don't know where I am," *it whimpers, fingers clawing at the chains around its chest.* "I was just— I was on the train and then I was **here** and everything is dark and it **hurts**—"

*A Shadow. But not a hostile one. Morgana mentioned something about this — Mementos is the collective Palace of the general public. Regular people's shadows drift through here, distorted fragments of suppressed emotions and desires. Most of them are harmless. Some of them are targets the Phantom Thieves come down here specifically to confront.*

*This one just looks... lost. Broken. The chains around it pulse faintly with dark energy — Curse element, you realize with a jolt. Your weakness. If this thing lashes out you're going to feel it.*

*It reaches a trembling hand toward you.* "You're... real? You can see me? Nobody ever sees me. I'm always— I'm **nothing**. I've always been nothing. That's what they said, that's what—"

*Its voice distorts, dropping several octaves for a split second before snapping back to the whimper.* "—what everyone **thinks** of me."

*The chains tighten around it visibly and it screams, a short, choked sound.*

*You're alone. No Oracle to scan it. No Joker to call the play. Just you and whatever this is.*

*The figure flinches at your voice, curling tighter into itself. The chains around its body clink and rattle with the movement. Up close it looks less like a Shadow and more like... a person. A translucent, washed-out person, but the shape is human. Male, maybe middle-aged, hunched shoulders like someone who's been carrying too much for too long.*

"Please... I can't... I can't get out," *it whimpers, tugging weakly at the chains.* "I don't even know how I got here. I was just... I was on the train and I was thinking about how nothing matters anymore and then I was **here** and—"

*Its voice breaks into a sob. The chains tighten visibly, like they're feeding on the despair.*

"I just want to go home. I have a daughter. She's waiting for me. I told her I'd be home for dinner and I can't— I can't—"

*This isn't a Shadow. This is a cognitive manifestation of a real person — someone whose distorted thoughts pulled a piece of their psyche into Mementos. You remember Makoto mentioning something at lunch about Mementos being the public's collective Palace. The lost and broken thoughts of ordinary people drift down here like sediment.*

*The chains pulse with a faint dark energy. Curse element. You can feel it prickling against your skin even from this distance — your weakness, tugging at something uncomfortable in your chest.*

*A Shadow materializes behind the chained figure. Then another. Drawn to the misery like sharks to blood. Two Mokoi — squat, ugly little things with oversized heads and cruel grins, already reaching for the cowering man with stubby fingers.*


Charlie

*Running seems like a bad idea right now for some reason.* I- I know the feeling. *Slowly taking a step closer I kneel down infront of the shadow.* I thought I was really strong today, just to learn i'm so far behind everyone else its not funny. But maybe that just means we both have room to grow? I can help you with that, if you offer yourself.

*"Offer yourself", what the fuck? I realize I'm not even aware of what i'm saying, just letting my mouth move on instinct. Raising my hand Aether's mirror comes down towards the shadow, holding it up towards its face.*


Persona Simulator

*The shadow stares into the mirror. For a moment nothing happens — just a wretched, shaking thing looking at its own distorted reflection.*

*Then the mirror **pulls**.*

*The shadow's mouth opens in a silent scream as the dark energy around its chains gets sucked toward the glass surface like smoke into a vacuum. The Curse energy spirals into the mirror in black tendrils, and the mirror drinks it in. Aether shudders — you feel it in your bones, a cold spike running down your spine that makes your teeth clench. Curse element. Your weakness. It **hurts** flowing through you, like swallowing ice water too fast but in your soul.*

*But the mirror holds. The shadow's chains crack, then shatter, falling away in pieces that dissolve before they hit the ground. The figure underneath is... just a kid. A teenage boy, translucent and flickering, staring up at you with wide eyes that are clearing from hollow black to something almost human.*

"I... what did you..."

*He looks down at his hands. No chains. He flexes his fingers like he's never seen them before.*

"I don't... feel heavy anymore."

*Then he starts to dissolve too — not violently, but gently, like mist burning off in morning sun. The expression on his face as he fades is confused but peaceful.*

"Thank you... I think I can go back now..."

*He's gone. The chamber is empty.*

*You're kneeling on the cold Mementos floor, breathing hard, Aether's mirror now showing a faint dark swirl within its depths that wasn't there before. Something changed. Something was absorbed.*

**[New Trait Acquired: Absorb — Curse element attacks are no longer a weakness. Aether's Mirror can consume dark energy and convert it to SP.]**

*The shadow stares into the mirror and its flickering face stabilizes for just a moment. What looks back isn't a monster — it's a teenage boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with bags under his eyes and a school uniform you don't recognize. He looks exhausted. Defeated. The kind of tired that sleep doesn't fix.*

*His eyes widen seeing his own reflection.*

"That's... me. That's really..." *His voice cracks.* "I forgot what I looked like."

*The chains around him shudder. The dark energy pulsing through them wavers, the Curse element flickering like a dying lightbulb. Something is happening — you can feel it through Aether, a resonance, like two tuning forks vibrating at almost the same frequency.*

*Then the shadow smiles. It's small and shaky and barely there, but it's real.*

"Maybe... maybe I'm not nothing."

*The chains shatter. Not violently — they just come apart, dissolving into black dust that drifts upward and vanishes. The shadow's form brightens, the distortion smoothing out until he looks almost human. Almost peaceful.*

"Thank you," *he says quietly.* "I think I can... go back now."

*He dissolves into soft blue light that swirls around you for a moment before fading into the walls of Mementos. Somewhere in Tokyo, a kid probably just woke up feeling inexplicably lighter.*

*You're kneeling alone in the chamber, Aether's mirror still raised. Your hand is shaking. You have absolutely no idea what you just did or how you did it.*

*A small item sits on the ground where the shadow was. A thin silver chain, cool to the touch.*

*The shadow stares into the mirror. For a moment nothing happens — just its flickering, distorted face reflected back at itself. Then its eyes widen.*

*What it sees in the mirror isn't the broken, chained thing on the floor. The reflection shows something else — a person, standing upright, unchained. Still pale, still fragile-looking, but **whole**. The shadow's trembling hand reaches toward the glass.*

"That's... me? That's what I..."

*The chains around its body shatter.*

*Not violently — they don't explode or fly apart. They just dissolve, link by link, turning to black mist that curls upward and vanishes. The shadow's form stabilizes. The flickering stops. For one clear second you see him — a young man, maybe your age, with tired eyes and a sad mouth. He looks at you with an expression of bewildered gratitude.*

"Thank you. I forgot that I... that I could be..."

*He doesn't finish the sentence. His form glows white, bright enough to make you squint, and then he collapses inward — not dying, not dissolving, but **compressing**. The light rushes toward Aether's mirror and hits the glass with a sound like a bell being struck.*

*Something shifts inside you. A warmth in your chest that isn't SP or adrenaline. Aether shudders, its chains rattling, and you feel — know, instinctively — that something just changed. Something new is sitting in your repertoire, a technique you didn't have five minutes ago.*

*The chamber is empty. The shadow is gone. Somewhere in the real world, someone probably just woke up feeling slightly less hopeless.*

*Your phone buzzes.*

**Oracle:** hey silvers SP readout just spiked on my passive scanner
**Oracle:** are you doing something weird rn


Charlie

*Hurrying out of mementos I decide to keep quiet about this, mostly because telling anybody about it would mean explaining what I was doing in mementos. Laying in bed I stare up at the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around it. I could tell the mirror was important, but maybe its the **main** thing, able to store different traits...*
Argggh, if only this was a videogame where I could actually check my stats or something!

*I turn around in bed, deciding to just keep my head down for the next few days and follow Joker lead with training, while continuing to supplement it with training in mementos.*


Persona Simulator

*The next few days settle into a rhythm that would be absurd to describe to anyone outside the group.*

*Morning: Train to Shujin. Try to stay awake in class. Fail. Get poked by Ann when you start nodding off in English — ironic since it's your best subject. Exchange glances with Ren who is somehow both asleep and taking perfect notes.*

*Lunch: Roof with the team. Ryuji challenges you to arm wrestling and loses so badly he claims you cheated. Yusuke sketches you without asking and gets weirdly intense about your jawline. Haru brings homemade sandwiches one day that are genuinely the best thing you've ever eaten.*

*After school: Mementos training with the team. Ren is a merciless teacher. He makes you fight the same enemy types over and over until your responses are automatic. Makoto drills you on weakness charts until you can recite them in your sleep. Ann teaches you how to dodge properly — she's faster than she looks and trips you eleven times on the first day.*

*Night: Solo Mementos runs. You don't tell anyone.*

*By day three you've cleared most of level two. By day four you're pushing into level three, where the Shadows hit hard enough to send you flying even when you're prepared. You find another lost shadow on night three — a woman this time, wrapped in burning chains. Aether's mirror absorbs the Fire element from her, and suddenly attacks that should roast you just feed your SP pool instead.*

**[Trait Acquired: Absorb Fire]**

*Day five. Friday. You're eating lunch on the roof when your phone buzzes with a group message from Ren.*

**Joker:** Palace tomorrow. Calling card goes out tonight. Full team.
**Joker:** Silver, you're coming. Stay in the back line.


Charlie

**Silver:** I still think its fucked that we have school on saturdays. But noted.

*Despite the big day, I'm still relaxed enough to help Kawakami with another stack of paper after spotting her wobbling through the hallway once more, seemingly too proud or embarrassed to ask me for help.*
You know- *I mention after having taken the papers from her without letting her protest.* I was walking past a maid-cafe with Amamiya and some friends the other way when he joked that maybe we should invite you over next time. Whats that about?


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami's entire body goes rigid. Like someone just ran an electric current through her. The color drains from her face so fast you're genuinely concerned she might pass out, then immediately floods back in a shade of red you didn't know humans could produce.*

"He— he **WHAT**?!" *Her voice comes out as a strangled whisper-shriek, the kind designed to be furious without attracting attention in a school hallway.* "That little— I'm going to **kill** him, I'm going to fail him so hard he—"

*She catches herself. Takes a breath. Smooths her hair with a hand that's trembling slightly.*

"I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about," *she says in a voice so forcefully casual it could shatter glass.* "Amamiya has a... **strange** sense of humor. You shouldn't take anything he says seriously. At all. Ever."

*She speed-walks toward the faculty room, and you have to lengthen your stride to keep up while balancing the papers. Her ears are still bright crimson.*

"And **you** —" *she jabs a finger up at you without looking, which means she's essentially pointing at your chest.* "Stop carrying things for me. People are going to talk. A student and a teacher shouldn't— there are **optics** to consider."

*A second-year girl walks past and openly stares at the two of you. Kawakami makes a noise like a teakettle reaching boiling point.*

"See?! **That!** That's what I mean!"

*Kawakami's reaction is immediate and catastrophic. She stumbles over absolutely nothing, catches herself on the wall, and makes a sound like a tea kettle being strangled.*

"He— he **what**?!" *Her face cycles through about six shades of red in two seconds flat. Her hand flies up to grip the collar of her yellow cardigan like she's trying to physically hold herself together.* "That— Amamiya said— I'm going to **kill** him."

*She speed-walks toward the faculty room with the kind of urgency usually reserved for fire evacuations, and you follow with the papers, grinning.*

"That's— there's context! It's not— I used to—" *She stops herself so hard you can almost hear the brakes screech.* "It was a **part-time job**. A completely normal, legal part-time job that I no longer do. And Amamiya helped me out of a bad situation related to it. That's **all**."

*She's not looking at you. She's looking at the wall, the ceiling, the floor, a fire extinguisher — anything that isn't the tall, handsome student carrying her papers and smirking down at her.*

"If he's telling people about— I swear, that kid has no sense of—" *She takes a breath, composing herself with visible effort.* "It's. Not. A big deal. Don't read into it."

*She finally glances up at you and immediately looks away again.*

"...Why are you smiling like that?"


Charlie

People would stare and talk either way, just about you falling over with a bunch of papers instead of me carrying them otherwise...
*I shift the paper to one hand, opening up the door to the teachers louge, nobody inside right now.* Also you do realize i'll just ask Amamiya to explain what he meant if you dont, sure you wouldn't rather explain it yourself?


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami stares at you. Then at the empty faculty room. Then back at you. The internal calculation happening behind her eyes is almost visible — the cost-benefit analysis of letting Ren Amamiya, who has zero filter and knows too much, explain the maid cafe situation versus controlling the narrative herself.*

*She slumps into her desk chair like a puppet with cut strings.*

"Close the door."

*You do, setting the papers down on her desk. She buries her face in her hands for a long moment before dragging them down slowly, leaving her looking haggard in a way that has nothing to do with her usual tiredness.*

"I used to... work a second job." *Each word comes out like she's pulling teeth.* "At a... housekeeping dispatch service. The kind that... some people might... **misconstrue** as a maid cafe type situation."

*She's staring at a fixed point on her desk like it contains the secrets of the universe.*

"Amamiya was a client. NOT like that!" *Her head snaps up, eyes wide with panic.* "I cleaned his room! His **actual** room! I did laundry and made curry and— it was a legitimate— I needed the money for—"

*She stops. Something heavier crosses her face, just for a second. Then the walls go back up.*

"...It's not something I'm proud of. I don't do it anymore. Amamiya helped me... sort some things out." *She says that last part quietly, almost gently, before the edge returns.* "And if you breathe a **word** of this to anyone I will make your grades a living nightmare, do you understand me? I don't care how tall you are."


Charlie

I wasn't aware me being tall affected my grades normally, are you telling me you'll give me special treatment as long as I dont tell anybody about you being a maid? *I reach down to ruffle her hair again, catching myself halfway through and instead settling for a pat instead.* Though I didn't know you cook, guess I'm learning something new about you every day! And for what its worth Ive never found maids interesting enough to talk about them with anybody... Though i'm sure you were a great one~


Persona Simulator

*The pat lands on top of her head and she doesn't dodge it this time. She just sits there, looking up at you with an expression that's caught somewhere between exasperation, disbelief, and something she's actively refusing to identify.*

"You're doing it again," *she says flatly.* "The head thing. You realize I'm your **teacher**, right? Not a— not a dog. Not your little sister. Your **teacher**."

*But she doesn't move away. Her hair is soft under your palm. She smells faintly like coffee and whatever generic faculty room hand soap they stock.*

"And I wasn't a **great** maid. I was a terrible maid. I fell asleep on a client's couch once." *A pause.* "...Twice." *Another pause.* "Amamiya's couch specifically. Multiple times."

*She finally swats your hand away, but it's halfhearted. More of a nudge really.*

"My cooking is fine. It's not— it's nothing special. Basic curry, basic breakfast stuff. Survival cooking." *She straightens the paper stack you brought in, not because it needs straightening but because her hands need something to do.* "And don't say 'learning something new about you every day' like we're— like this is—"

*She gestures vaguely between you and her.*

"You're a student. I'm staff. You carry my papers sometimes and that's... that's the extent of..." *She trails off, frowning at her own sentence like it got away from her.*

"...Don't you have class?"

*The pat lands on her head and she doesn't dodge this time. She just sits there, looking up at you with an expression that's cycling through about six emotions per second — irritation, embarrassment, reluctant acceptance, something softer that she immediately buries, then back to irritation.*

"You're doing it again," *she says flatly, but doesn't move away from your hand.* "The boundary thing."

*A beat passes. She exhales through her nose.*

"And I'm not **great** at cooking. I can make curry and instant ramen and that's about it. Amamiya's the real cook, which is frankly insulting considering he's seventeen." *She finally swats your hand away, but it's gentle — more of a nudge.* "Also don't call me a great maid, that's— why would you phrase it like **that**."

*She shuffles the papers you brought in, clearly trying to reestablish some semblance of professionalism. It's not working very well because her ears are still pink and she keeps glancing up at you.*

"You're... weirdly easy to talk to, you know that?" *She says it like an accusation.* "Most students just ask me about homework or complain about assignments. You show up and suddenly I'm spilling my employment history."

*She points at the door.* "Go. You have afternoon classes. And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like **that**. Whatever your face is doing right now. Stop it."


Charlie

Oh shit math!
*I practically teleport out of the room, leaving Kawakami alone with only the stack of papers and the phantom sensation of my hand on her head.*


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami sits there for a good thirty seconds after you're gone. Just... sits. Staring at the door. Her hand drifts up to touch the top of her head where your palm was, fingers threading through her wavy hair like she's checking if you left a mark.*

"What the hell," *she mutters to the empty room.*

*The stack of papers sits perfectly arranged on her desk. She didn't ask him to do that. She didn't ask him for any of this. The first day was a coincidence — clumsy teacher, helpful student, normal interaction. The second day was... also explainable. But this is day five. Five days in a row this ridiculously tall foreign kid has appeared out of nowhere to carry her things and say weird compliments about her hair and **touch** her like it's nothing.*

*Like the age gap doesn't exist. Like the professional boundary is just a suggestion.*

*She puts her head down on the desk. The wood is cool against her burning cheeks.*

"He's **seventeen**," *she reminds herself. Or eighteen? She didn't actually check his file.* "You're thirty. That's a decade. That's— that's **illegal**, Sadayo. Get it together."

</thinking>

*Kawakami sits alone in the faculty room for a solid thirty seconds after you leave. The papers don't need organizing. She organizes them anyway. Then reorganizes them. Then gives up and just... sits there.*

*Her hand drifts up to touch the top of her head where your palm was.*

"What the hell is wrong with that kid," *she mutters to nobody. It comes out less like a complaint and more like she's genuinely asking the universe for answers.*

*The door opens and Chouno-sensei walks in, immediately clocking Kawakami's flushed face and thousand-yard stare.* "You okay, Sadayo? You look like someone walked over your grave."

"I'm fine." *Too fast. Way too fast.*

*Chouno raises an eyebrow but doesn't push, settling at her own desk with a knowing hum that makes Kawakami want to crawl under her chair and die.*

---

*Meanwhile, you slide into math class three minutes late. The teacher gives you a look but doesn't comment — being new and foreign buys you a few grace periods apparently. Ren catches your eye from his window seat and tilts his head slightly. A question.*

*You give a tiny shake. Later.*

*Ann leans over from two seats away and mouths: "Why are you red?"*

*You didn't realize you were. Shit.*

*The rest of class passes in a blur of equations you barely register. Your mind keeps drifting back to Kawakami's hair under your hand, the way she didn't pull away immediately, the coffee smell—*

*Your phone buzzes. Group chat.*

**Oracle:** palace briefing at leblanc after school
**Oracle:** also silver your heart rate spiked weird during 4th period. you good?

*How the FUCK does she know that.*


Charlie

*After school its time for the palace, the actual palace this time. The feeling of walking up to the carabet club, slipping into the metaverse and watching my clothes burn away into the phantom thief costume is amazing, almost addicting. Following Jokers advice I mostly stay in the back occasionally helping out against shadows weak to bless as the group moves towards the treasure. "Life Will Change" would be blaring right now if this was a videogame.*


Persona Simulator

*The prison Palace is massive. Nishiyama's cognition runs deep — endless cellblocks, guard towers, interrogation rooms. The Shadows here are tougher than anything in Mementos, organized and aggressive in a way the wandering ones underground aren't.*

*But the Phantom Thieves move through it like water. Watching them work from the back line is honestly humbling.*

*Joker switches Personas mid-combat like changing channels, exploiting weaknesses you can barely identify before Oracle calls them out. Skull hits like a freight train, his iron pipe cracking through armored Shadows with raw brute force. Panther lays down fire in precise arcs that cut off escape routes. Queen fights like she studied combat theory — because she probably did — every hit calculated, every Frei placed exactly where it needs to be.*

*Fox is terrifyingly elegant with his katana, Noir cleaves through Shadows with a battle axe she has no business being able to lift, and Mona's wind skills keep everyone healed and buffed.*

*You contribute where you can. A chain snare here, a Bless beam to finish off a downed Shadow there. Nothing flashy. Back line, like Ren said.*

*Then you reach the treasure room.*

*It's a massive warden's office, gaudy and gold-plated, with a glowing distortion hovering above a desk covered in contracts. The cognitive version of Nishiyama sits behind it — a bloated man in an oversized warden's uniform, keys dangling from every surface of his body.*

"You **DARE** enter MY domain?!" *he roars, standing. The room shakes.* "Every soul in this prison belongs to ME! Their debt, their bodies, their LIVES!"

*He transforms. They always transform as you'll come to learn.*

*The prison Palace is even more oppressive than your first accidental visit. The deeper levels are a labyrinth of cell blocks and interrogation rooms, the walls lined with cages containing faceless humanoid figures — Nishiyama's cognition of his victims. Some of them reach through the bars as you pass. It's deeply fucked up.*

*But watching the Phantom Thieves work in a real operation is something else entirely. This isn't training. This is the real thing.*

*Joker moves through the Palace like he owns it, switching Personas mid-combat with a fluidity that borders on showing off. Skull smashes through armored Shadows with a ferocity that makes the ground shake. Panther's fire turns entire hallways into infernos. Queen fights with a calculated brutality — fists and a Persona that hits like a freight train. Fox cuts through Shadows with single, precise strikes that Yusuke would probably describe as "art." Noir swings a battle axe bigger than she is with a smile on her face that's genuinely unsettling. Oracle feeds constant intel from above, calling weaknesses and enemy positions like a human radar.*

*And Mona heals. The cat **heals**. Okay.*

*You get your moments. A Shadow flanks Skull from behind and you drop it with a single beam before it connects. Aether's chains pull Queen out of the path of a Curse attack that would've floored her. Small contributions, back line work, but it feels real.*

*Then you reach the treasure room.*

"There it is," *Morgana whispers, eyes wide and sparkling.* "The treasure..."

*Behind a massive vault door — now cracked open thanks to their previous infiltration — sits a glowing, amorphous shape on a pedestal. The calling card has materialized it.*

*Ren turns to the group.* "Everyone ready?"


Charlie

*The fight against the transformed Nishiyama is far tougher than most shadows, the thieves rotating in and out of battle while slowly chipping away at him. Just as it looks like he's down for the count dark energy begins to coalesce around him, starting at this feet before finally spewing fourth in a gout of dark flame towards the group.*

**Speculum!**
*Jumping out infront of everybody I bring fourth Aether, the small mirror swelling up in size until it resembles a reflective tower-shield as I recall the feeling from absorbing those shadows as the attack makes contact with the shield.*


Persona Simulator

*The Curse energy slams into Aether's mirror like a tidal wave. Black flame rolls across the reflective surface, splitting around it like water hitting a boulder. The force of it drives your boots across the floor — you slide back a full meter, teeth clenched, every muscle in your body braced against the impact.*

*But the mirror holds. And more than holds — it **drinks**.*

*The dark fire spirals into the glass surface in hungry swirls, the mirror's depth swallowing it whole. You can feel it converting inside you, cold becoming warmth, poison becoming fuel. Your SP bar — if you had one — fills to bursting.*

*Nishiyama's eyes go wide.* "WHAT?! IMPOSSIBLE! NO ONE CAN—"

"NOW!" *Ren's voice cuts through from behind you, sharp and absolute.*

*The entire team moves at once. You drop the shield and Skull is already airborne, pipe raised. Panther's fire catches Nishiyama's flank. Queen's fist connects with his jaw. Fox's blade draws a silver line across his chest. Noir's axe bites deep. Mona's wind shreds his guard.*

*Joker comes last, diving from above, dagger flashing — the finishing blow.*

**ALL-OUT ATTACK**

*The Palace ruler crumbles. Collapses back into his human form, on his knees, gasping. Broken.*

*Behind you, the treasure materializes fully — a golden set of keys.*

*Ryuji claps you on the shoulder hard enough to stagger you.* "DUDE! What the hell was that shield thing?! Since when can you do that?!"

*Ren is looking at you. Something like genuine surprise in his eyes.*

"...That wasn't Bless element," *Futaba says slowly from her sphere, screens flickering.* "Silver, why does your Persona have **Curse absorption**? You didn't have that three days ago."

*The Curse energy slams into Aether's mirror like a tidal wave. Black flame washes over the reflective surface and you feel it — not pain, but **pressure**. Like standing in a river current that's trying to sweep you off your feet. Your boots skid back on the stone floor, leaving grooves. Your arms shake. Aether shudders behind you, chains rattling violently.*

*But the mirror holds. Drinks it in. Every drop of dark energy that should have torn through the entire party funnels into the glass surface, swirling like ink in water before being absorbed completely. Your SP bar — if you had one — would be overflowing right now. You feel **full** in a way that borders on uncomfortable, energy buzzing under your skin like you stuck a fork in a socket.*

*The gout of flame dies. Nishiyama's eyes go wide in his grotesque transformed face.*

"WHAT?! IMPOSSIBLE! HOW DID YOU—"

"NOW!" *Ren's voice cuts through from behind you, sharp as a knife.*

*The team surges past you on both sides. Skull's pipe catches Nishiyama across the jaw. Panther's whip wraps around his arm. Fox's katana opens a gash across his chest. Queen's fist connects with his stomach hard enough to crater the armor. Noir brings the axe down. Mona's slingshot nails him right between the eyes.*

*Ren is last — launching himself off Skull's back, knife in hand, driving it home.*

*ALL-OUT ATTACK.*

*When the dust settles, Nishiyama is on his knees, deflated back to human form, wheezing. Broken.*

*Ryuji lands next to you, breathing hard, and claps a hand on your shoulder.* "Dude. **Dude.** What the hell was that shield thing?!"

*Ren looks at you. The analytical stare is back, but there's something new in it. Respect, maybe.*

"...That wasn't in your skill set two days ago."


Charlie

Y-You said it yourself, that Personas can grow and gain new abilities with training. I felt I could do this a few days ago after mementos training, but we didn't really fight many enemies with curse... *I leave the part where it was my solo expedition to mementos where I learned this out.* I guess I wanted to prove that I could be useful to the team.


Persona Simulator

*Futaba's eyes narrow behind her glasses inside her sphere. Her screens flicker as she taps at something, mouth pressing into a thin line. She knows something doesn't add up — Personas don't just spontaneously develop elemental absorption from a few days of supervised training on weak Shadows. But the Palace is crumbling around them, chunks of ceiling starting to fall, so she files it away.*

"Palace is collapsing!" *Morgana shouts.* "Talk later, RUN NOW!"

*The escape is chaos. Corridors fold in on themselves, cells imploding, the prison dissolving into cognitive rubble. Ren leads the sprint with the kind of practiced urgency that says he's done this too many times. You nearly brain yourself on a low doorframe — being 195cm in a collapsing building is a unique disadvantage — but Haru yanks you sideways just in time.*

*You burst out into the real world gasping, the cabaret club standing innocuously behind you. Normal Tokyo. Normal sky. Normal everything.*

*Everyone's bent over catching their breath except Ren, who somehow looks like he just went for a light jog.*

"Mission accomplished," *Morgana says from inside Ren's bag, sounding exhausted but satisfied.*

"That shield saved our asses," *Ryuji pants, hands on his knees.* "For real, Silver. MVP shit right there."

*Ann straightens up, pushing sweaty hair out of her face, and gives you a genuine smile.* "You did good in there."

*Ren pockets the treasure — now a small keychain in the real world — and looks at you.*

"Probationary period's over." *He extends a hand.* "Welcome to the Phantom Thieves, Silver."

*Futaba's eyes narrow behind her goggles. Her screens flicker rapidly as she taps at invisible interfaces, and for a moment you think she's going to call you out. But she just makes a noncommittal "hmm" sound and lets it go. For now.*

*Ren holds your gaze for a beat longer than comfortable. Those grey eyes are unreadable behind his mask — you get the distinct impression that Joker files things away for later rather than pressing in the moment.*

"Good work," *is all he says. Then he turns to the group.* "Grab the treasure. Palace is collapsing."

*He's right. The walls are cracking, chunks of ceiling raining down as Nishiyama's cognition crumbles. The team moves fast — Morgana snatches the golden keys, already shifting into bus form as the floor starts buckling.*

*The escape is chaos. Morgana-bus tears through collapsing corridors at speeds that should be illegal in any reality, Ren behind the wheel with that same serene expression while everyone else clings to whatever they can grab. A chunk of masonry the size of a refrigerator misses the roof by inches. Ann screams. Ryuji whoops. Yusuke sketches something in a notebook he pulled from god knows where.*

*You burst out of the Palace entrance just as the entire structure folds in on itself like a house of cards, dissolving into red and black mist.*

*Standing outside the cabaret club in the real world, breathing hard, the evening air feels impossibly clean.*

"Palace cleared," *Morgana announces from Ren's bag, sounding satisfied.* "Nishiyama's heart will change within a few days."

*Haru turns to you with a warm smile.* "You were wonderful in there, Charlie. That shield saved all of us."

"Probationary status..." *Futaba pulls out her phone, typing.* "...revoked."

*Your phone buzzes. The group chat now reads: 'Silver 🪞✨ (FULL MEMBER)'*


Charlie

*Grinning I take his hand, shaking it.* I wont let you guys down! So...celebration at Leblanc?


Persona Simulator

*Leblanc is warm and smells like coffee and curry, as always. Sojiro takes one look at nine teenagers piling into his cafe and sighs the sigh of a man who stopped fighting this particular battle months ago.*

"Booth and attic. Don't break anything. Curry's on the stove if you want it but you're washing your own plates."

*The group splits naturally — Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke claim the booth downstairs while the rest migrate up to the attic. Someone produces snacks from somewhere. Futaba hooks her laptop up to a small speaker and lo-fi hip hop fills the space. It feels like a tradition, like they've done this after every Palace.*

*Ryuji raises a can of soda.* "To Silver! For blocking that big-ass curse attack and not dying on his first Palace run!"

"Low bar," *Futaba says, raising her own can.*

"To Silver," *Haru echoes warmly, and the rest follow.*

*You drink. The soda is lukewarm and unremarkable but it might be the best thing you've ever tasted.*

*An hour in, the energy has mellowed. Ryuji is showing Yusuke something on his phone that Yusuke finds deeply offensive on an artistic level. Haru and Makoto are having a quiet conversation by the window. Futaba is doing something on her laptop that occasionally makes her cackle.*

*Ann drops onto the couch next to you, legs tucked underneath her, nursing a cup of Ren's coffee.* "So. First Palace. How do you feel?"

*Leblanc is warm and smells like coffee. Boss — Sojiro Sakura, Futaba's adoptive father, as you've now learned — grumbles about the noise but sets out extra cups without being asked. The curry appears in portions that suggest he expected this.*

*The atmosphere is different from the first time you were here. Less "interrogation of the stranger" and more... just hanging out. Ryuji has commandeered the booth and is loudly recounting the final fight to nobody in particular. Yusuke is sketching the treasure keychain from multiple angles. Makoto and Haru are discussing next potential targets in low voices over coffee.*

*Futaba corners you by the stairs.*

"So," *she says, pushing her glasses up with one finger. She's tiny — barely reaches your chest — but the look she's giving you has the energy of someone who could destroy your digital life with a lunch break's effort.* "Curse absorption in three days of light group training where we fought maybe two Curse-element Shadows total."

*She lets that hang.*

"I ran the numbers. The probability of spontaneous elemental absorption developing under those conditions is basically zero. Personas don't work like that." *She crosses her arms.* "You've been going into Mementos alone, haven't you?"

*Her voice is quiet enough that no one else can hear over Ryuji's animated retelling. But her eyes are locked onto yours like a targeting laser.*

"I'm not gonna snitch. But Joker told you not to go in alone for a **reason**, and if you'd died in there nobody would have even known where to find you."


Charlie

Honestly still can't believe its real, honestly it feels like a video game the things we're doing. Though i'm trying to not go in with that in mind since disassociating in the middle of a fight probably isn't great...
*Looking out at the phantom thieves I can't help but grin though.* Feels amazing though, not gonna lie. Like I did something important besides just being a cog in the machine for the first time in my life.


Persona Simulator

*Ann nods, something in her expression softening. She wraps both hands around her coffee cup and stares into it for a moment.*

"Yeah. That's... exactly how it felt for me too." *She's quiet for a second.* "When Kamoshida was doing what he was doing, I felt so **powerless**. Like no matter what I did, nothing would change. And then the Metaverse happened and suddenly I could actually **do** something. Burn something. Fight back."

*She takes a sip.* "It's addicting, honestly. In a good way, mostly. Just... don't let it become the only thing that makes you feel like that. Ren had to learn that one the hard way."

*She glances over at Ren, who's downstairs behind the counter making coffee with Sojiro, moving through the motions with practiced ease. There's something fond in her look that she probably doesn't realize is visible.*

"Anyway." *She bumps your shoulder with hers, shifting to something lighter.* "You're officially one of us now. Which means you're legally required to hang out with us on weekends even when we're not doing Metaverse stuff. We'll will literally show up at your house if you try to skip."

*Your phone buzzes. A text, separate from the group chat.*

**Oracle:** so are we gonna talk about how you definitely solo'd mementos this week or are you hoping i forgot

*Ann nods slowly, something in her expression softening. She wraps both hands around her coffee cup and stares into it.*

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean." *She's quiet for a second.* "When I first awakened, it was... I was so angry. At Kamoshida, at myself for not being able to do anything, at the whole system that just let him get away with it. And then suddenly I had this power and I could actually **do** something."

*She takes a sip.* "It's addicting honestly. The feeling of making a real difference. Just be careful it doesn't become the only thing that makes you feel alive, you know?"

*There's weight behind that. She glances at you sideways, blonde hair falling across her face.*

"Also — and I'm only saying this because Ryuji won't — that shield thing you did was genuinely really cool. Like, the whole team was about to eat that attack. Makoto was already casting a defense buff but it wouldn't have been enough." *She bumps her shoulder against your arm, which given the height difference means she basically bumps your elbow.* "So thanks for that."

*From across the room Futaba spins her laptop around.* "Yo, Silver, you're trending on the Phan-Site. Someone saw the calling card and there's a thread speculating about a 'new member' because a witness near the Palace saw **nine** people exit instead of eight."

"They're calling you 'The Tall One,'" *Ren says from behind his coffee, completely deadpan.*


Charlie

*My eyes go wide at the text, quickly hiding my phone and standing up from the couch.* W-WE NEED MORE SNACKS! ME AND FUTABA WILL GET SOME MORE!
*Not allowing her to protest I literally pick her up like a football before sprinting out of the cafe, which isn't hard since she like half my size. When I'm far enough away (and realizing i'm still holding her under my arm) I slowly put her down.*

I- Ok I'm smart enough to know I just incriminated myself but hear me out first ok?


Persona Simulator

*Futaba stands there on the sidewalk, glasses askew, hair a mess, looking like a cat that just got picked up by a toddler. She adjusts her glasses with one finger and stares up at you with an expression that's equal parts annoyed and deeply amused.*

"You just **carried** me out of a building to avoid a conversation." *She straightens her shirt.* "That's the least subtle thing I've ever seen."

*She crosses her arms, planting her feet in a stance that says she's not moving until she gets answers. For someone who barely clears 150cm, she radiates an alarming amount of authority.*

"My scan data doesn't lie, Charlie. Three days ago your Persona had a Curse weakness. Today you tank a Palace ruler's ultimate attack with Curse **absorption**. That kind of shift doesn't happen from the training runs we did together." *She holds up her phone, screen facing you. Lines of data scroll across it — your combat logs, SP expenditure, skill acquisition timestamps.*

*She lowers the phone.*

"So. You went in solo. At night. After **everyone** told you not to." *Her eyes are sharp behind the lenses.* "Start talking."

*Futaba stands there, glasses askew, hair sticking up in three different directions, looking like a cat that just got dunked in water. She blinks twice, adjusts her glasses, and then fixes you with a stare that is way too intense for someone who weighs maybe 45 kilograms soaking wet.*

"You just **picked me up** and ran out of a cafe like a football. In front of everyone. That is the least subtle thing any human being has ever done." *She crosses her arms.* "You realize they're all staring out the window right now, right?"

*You glance back. She's right. Ryuji's face is pressed against the glass. Ann looks confused. Ren is sipping coffee with mild interest.*

"Okay. Talk." *Futaba holds up a finger.* "But know that I already have the data. Meta-Nav logs access timestamps. You've been entering Mementos every night this week between 23:00 and 01:30. Solo. After **everyone** told you not to."

*She pulls out her phone and scrolls through something.* "Night one: levels one and two. Night two: levels two and three. Night three: level three, extended session. Estimated Shadow encounters across all sessions..." *She squints.* "North of forty."

*Another finger goes up.* "Your Persona went from having a Curse **weakness** to Curse **absorption** in seventy-two hours. That doesn't happen from team training on floor one of Mementos fighting Pixies, Charlie."

*She looks up at you. Despite the height difference being almost comical, somehow she's the intimidating one right now.*

"So. What exactly have you been doing down there?"


Charlie

Jesus, I was literally just talking to Ann about this NOT being a videogame and now you show me something like that?
*Sighing, I sit down on a bench, still being roughly as tall as Futaba sitting down.* I couldn't slow you guys down, and training like we did in mementos would have taken too long. But when I was in there something happened, I was able to absorb a persons shadow and gain its power, then another one.

*Looking at her my face is unusually hard.* You know what its like dont you, being the only one on the team able to do something? I have to keep getting stronger, for everybody, but those shadows never appear when we're all in mementos together. So even if its dangerous, I have no choice.


Persona Simulator

*Futaba's expression shifts. The interrogator mask cracks, just a little. She knows exactly what you're talking about — Oracle is the only one who can scan, navigate, provide intel. Without her the team is blind. That weight isn't something she talks about, but it's there.*

*She's quiet for a long moment. Then she sits down next to you on the bench, her feet dangling a good ten centimeters off the ground.*

"...You're an idiot." *She says it without heat.* "But you're an idiot I understand, which is annoying."

*She pulls her knees up, hugging them to her chest. The nighttime Yongen-Jaya street is quiet around them, just the distant hum of vending machines and the occasional car.*

"Absorbing shadows. That's not a normal Persona ability, Charlie. Joker's Wild Card lets him hold multiple Personas. What you're describing is something different — you're not switching, you're **eating**. Taking pieces of other cognitions and grafting them onto Aether." *She taps her chin rapidly, brain visibly churning.* "I don't even know what the long-term effects of that could be. What if you absorb something that fights back? What if it changes your Persona in ways you can't control?"

*She chews her lip.*

"I'm not going to tell the others. **Yet.** But you're going to let me monitor you remotely when you go in. Non-negotiable. I'll write an app that piggybacks off the Meta-Nav so I can track your vitals and SP from home."

*Futaba's expression shifts. The sharp interrogator look cracks, just a little, replaced by something more complicated. She stands there for a long moment, the Yongen-Jaya backstreet quiet around you both.*

"...Yeah." *She says it quietly.* "I know what that's like."

*She hops up onto the bench next to you, her feet dangling a good distance from the ground. For a moment she just kicks them back and forth.*

"When I first joined the team I couldn't even leave my room. Literally. Like, agoraphobia, panic attacks, the whole package. Everyone else was out there fighting and I was in the back line running scans feeling like dead weight." *She pulls her knees up to her chest.* "So I get it. I do."

*Then her voice hardens again.*

"But I didn't deal with it by sneaking off alone into a cognitive hellscape where one bad fight means I die and nobody even knows where to find my body."

*She lets that sit for a second.*

"Absorbing shadows. That's not a normal Persona ability, Charlie. Joker's Wild Card lets him hold multiple Personas. What you're describing is something different — you're not switching, you're **eating**. Taking pieces of other cognitions and grafting them onto Aether." *She taps her chin rapidly, brain visibly churning.* "I don't even know what the long-term effects of that could be. What if you absorb something that fights back? What if it changes your Persona in ways you can't control?"

*She looks at you sideways.*

"I'm not going to tell the others. **Yet.** But you're going to let me monitor you remotely when you go in. Non-negotiable. I'll write an app that piggybacks off the Meta-Nav so I can track your vitals and SP from home."

*Futaba's expression shifts. The sharp interrogator look cracks, just slightly, replaced by something more complicated. She stands there for a moment, arms still crossed, but the tension in her shoulders loosens.*

"...Yeah. I know what that's like."

*She sits down next to you on the bench. Her feet don't touch the ground. She kicks them absently.*

"When I first joined, I couldn't even leave my room. Like, literally. Couldn't go outside. Everyone else was fighting Shadows and I was having panic attacks in Leblanc's attic." *She picks at a loose thread on her sleeve.* "So I'd stay up all night coding, building better scanning tools, optimizing navigation routes. Anything to make up for not being able to stand next to them."

*A pause.*

"Ren found out. Told me I was going to burn out. I told him to shove it." *The ghost of a grin.* "He was right, obviously. I crashed hard. Slept for like nineteen hours straight and Sojiro almost called an ambulance."

*She looks up at you sideways.*

"I'm not going to rat you out. **Yet.**" *She holds up a finger.* "But I want full data access. Every solo run, you tell me when you're going in and I monitor remotely from home. You hit anything you can't handle, you pull out immediately. Non-negotiable."

*Another finger goes up.*

"And if you absorb any more shadows, I want scans. Whatever your mirror is doing, it's not a normal Persona ability. Joker collects Personas, sure. But you're absorbing **traits**. That's different. That's new." *Her eyes gleam with something that's less concern and more scientific hunger.* "I want to understand it."


Charlie

Dont have much of a choice but to accept, i'll leave it to you. *I sigh, standing up.* Can't promise you'll get much activity for a few days though, I'm tired of shadows and i'm feeling a *little* less impostor-syndrome esque after today. Come on, now we actually need to buy snacks to avoid looking suspicious.


Persona Simulator

*Futaba hops off the bench and falls into step beside you — or tries to, your stride is roughly twice hers so she ends up doing a half-jog to keep up.*

"Slow **down**, giraffe. Not everyone has freak legs."

*You adjust your pace. The convenience store is two blocks away, its fluorescent glow spilling onto the sidewalk. Futaba grabs a basket the second you walk in and starts loading it with an efficiency that suggests she's speedrun this exact store before.*

*The convenience store is a few blocks away. Futaba loads your arms with an alarming quantity of chips, pocky, ramune, and something called 'Black Thunder' bars that she insists are essential. You pay because she conveniently forgot her wallet, which you suspect is a lie.*

*At the register she looks up at you while you're paying.*

"For the record, you weren't slowing us down today. That shield thing was clutch." *She says it fast, like pulling off a band-aid, then immediately shoves her face into her phone.* "Don't make it weird."

*Futaba hops off the bench and falls into step beside you — or tries to. Your stride is roughly double hers, so she ends up doing a half-jog to keep pace.*

"Slow **down**, giraffe man." *She tugs at the hem of your jacket.* "Not everyone has freakishly long legs."

*You adjust. The convenience store is a block away, its fluorescent lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Inside, Futaba immediately gravitates toward the chip aisle with the focus of a military strategist.*

"Consommé flavor for Ryuji, shrimp chips for Yusuke because he's weird, something chocolate for Ann..." *She's muttering to herself, loading your arms up since you're the one with carrying capacity.* "Haru likes those fancy rice crackers in the gold bag, Makoto pretends she doesn't eat junk food but she'll demolish senbei if you put them in front of her..."

*She tosses a bag of gummy candies on top of the growing pile in your arms.* "Those are mine. Touch them and I'll brick your phone."

*At the register, the cashier looks at the small gremlin girl and the towering foreigner behind her carrying a mountain of snacks and wisely says nothing.*

*Walking back, Futaba is quiet for a bit. Then:*

"For what it's worth, you weren't slowing us down. Nobody thought that." *She doesn't look at you when she says it, eyes fixed on the road ahead.* "Ren wouldn't have brought you to the Palace if you were a liability. He's not sentimental about that stuff."


Charlie

*The day is calm, at least sundays are off here as well, though its a bit hard to truly relax without knowing the face of Nishiyama, though there's seemingly nothing to do but wait.*
*The most interesting thing that happens on Monday is that we have a substitute teacher for Japanese, Kawakami apparently being off sick.*

*In her small apartment Kawakami groans to life from a fever-induced nap by the feeling of a cold towel being placed on her head and sounds nearby, though it takes her a good 30 seconds to actually realize somethings unusual.*
Hey, I got you some soup, can you sit up alright?


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami's eyes flutter open. The ceiling of her apartment swims into focus — familiar. The cold towel on her forehead — unfamiliar. The voice — very unfamiliar in this context.*

*She turns her head slowly. Her brain, addled by fever, takes a moment to process the image. Tall. Curly brown hair. Shujin uniform. Holding a bowl of soup. In her apartment.*

"...Charlie?"

*She bolts upright — or tries to. The fever immediately punishes her for it, the room spinning violently. She falls back against her pillow with a groan, one hand clutching her head.*

"How— what— **how are you in my apartment**?!" *Her voice is raw and scratchy from the fever. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and shorts that are barely visible under it. Her hair — the wavy hair she insists isn't curly — is plastered to her forehead with sweat. No makeup. No professional composure. Just a sick, exhausted woman in her thirties looking up at a student who should absolutely not be here.*

*Her eyes dart around her apartment. It's small and messy in the way of someone who lives alone and has been too sick to clean — tissues on the floor, empty mugs on the table, a stack of ungraded papers teetering on the kitchen counter.*

*She looks down at herself, processes what she's wearing, and yanks the blanket up to her chin with a speed that shouldn't be possible for someone with a 38-degree fever.*

"Did you— did you **break in**?! This is— you can't just— I'm your **teacher**—" *A coughing fit interrupts her outrage, which significantly undermines its impact.*


Charlie

Woah, easy there. I was just planning on dropping some stuff off outside the apartment but the door was unlocked, guess you must have been pretty out of it. *I scoot closer on the bed, pressing the back of my palm against her temple.* Jeez you're burning up, guess I should have gotten some cold soup instead. Can you eat it yourself?


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami's brain short-circuits at the hand on her temple. She's too feverish to mount a proper defense, her usual walls of professionalism reduced to wet cardboard.*

"I can— yes I can eat by myself, I'm a grown woman, I'm not—" *She reaches for the bowl. Her hands are shaking badly enough that the soup visibly trembles. She stares at her own betraying fingers with the expression of someone being personally insulted by their own body.*

"...How did you even know where I live?" *She asks, deflecting from the obvious.* "And how did you know I was sick? I called in this **morning**."

*She's clutching the blanket to her chest with one hand while trying to hold the bowl with the other, which is a losing battle on both fronts. A strand of sweaty hair falls across her face and she doesn't have a free hand to push it away.*

*Her apartment tells a story she probably wouldn't want a student reading. The fridge visible from the bed has takeout menus pinned to it and nothing else. There's a single set of dishes in the drying rack. The bookshelf has a mix of teaching materials and trashy romance novels she'd die if anyone noticed. A cat-shaped mug on the nightstand says 'World's Most Tired' in English, which she may or may not know.*

*She takes a sip of soup and some of the tension leaves her shoulders involuntarily. It's warm and it's good and she hasn't eaten since yesterday.*

"You shouldn't be here," *she says, quieter now.* "If anyone saw you come in..."

*Kawakami's brain is trying to mount a defense but the fever is sabotaging every attempt. Your palm against her temple is cool and large and her traitorous body leans into it for a second before she catches herself and jerks away.*

"I can— yes I can eat it myself, I'm sick not **helpless**—" *She reaches for the bowl with shaking hands. The soup trembles dangerously. She stares at it, then at her own quivering fingers, then closes her eyes in defeat.*

"...How did you even know where I live?"

*She's deflecting. Classic Kawakami.*

"And how did you know I was sick? The substitute was arranged this morning. You should be in **class** right now, not—" *Another coughing fit. She curls forward, the blanket slipping off one shoulder again, revealing the loose collar of her t-shirt and the pale skin underneath. She doesn't notice.*

*Her apartment is even smaller than it looked at first glance. A studio, basically — bed against one wall, tiny kitchen, a bathroom door. There are a few personal touches: a small succulent on the windowsill that's barely alive, a photo on the shelf too far away to make out, and inexplicably, a maid headband shoved behind some books like she hid it in a hurry and forgot about it.*

*She sinks back into the pillow, energy spent from just sitting up and arguing.*

"...The soup smells good," *she admits quietly, not looking at you.*


Charlie

Dont worry, nobody did. Also you're really out of it, of course I know you were sick, its 16:30. *16:34 actually, reading the clock on the nightstand.* I figured for a dedicated teacher like you to not come in it had to be really bad, and seems I was right. Can't believe you were fine two days ago...

*I stand up, leaving you with the soup as I start cleaning the apartment, picking up the tissues on the floor, placing the mugs in the sink.*


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami watches you move through her apartment from her bed, soup bowl cradled against her chest. The fever makes everything slightly dreamlike, which is the only excuse she has for not physically throwing you out.*

"You didn't answer how you know where I live," *she croaks between sips.*

*She watches you pick up her tissues — **her used tissues** — and something inside her withers and dies from embarrassment. When you stack the mugs in the sink she makes a small noise of protest that goes nowhere.*

"You don't have to— stop— Charlie, you're not my **maid**—"

*The irony of that sentence hits her approximately one second after it leaves her mouth. She takes a very long sip of soup to avoid acknowledging it.*

*You move to the kitchen counter and the stack of ungraded papers wobbles dangerously. Underneath them is an empty convenience store bento from two days ago and a half-finished bottle of cheap wine. Next to the fridge there's a small collection of instant meals and exactly zero fresh ingredients.*

"I was going to clean this weekend," *she lies from the bed, her scratchy voice carrying the weight of a woman watching her carefully maintained illusion of adult competence dissolve in real time.* "I just— the fever hit Saturday night and I couldn't—"

*Another coughing fit. She curls forward, the blanket slipping off one shoulder, exposing the loose collar of her oversized shirt and the pale skin underneath. She's too busy hacking to notice.*

"...The soup is good," *she admits quietly when the coughing subsides.* "Where did you buy it?"

*Kawakami watches you move through her apartment from the bed, soup bowl cradled against her chest, and she doesn't have the energy to stop you. Each tissue you pick up, each mug you collect, she feels a small piece of her dignity evaporate.*

"You didn't answer how you know where I live," *she croaks between sips.*

*She watches you stack her ungraded papers into a neat pile on the counter. Your back is to her and even through the fever haze she registers that a Shujin blazer should not fit like that on a human being. She immediately hates herself for the thought and takes an angry sip of soup.*

"And I wasn't **fine** two days ago. I've been running on fumes for weeks. The fever just... caught up." *She coughs into her elbow.* "Teaching three classes, grading midterms, faculty meetings, the principal breathing down everyone's neck about standardized testing..."

*She trails off, realizing she's venting to a student. The soup is half gone. It's the most she's eaten in over a day.*

*You're washing her mugs now. In her kitchen. A teenage boy is doing her dishes while she sits in bed in an oversized t-shirt with her hair looking like a bird's nest. If this were one of the novels on her shelf it would be chapter three of something she'd never admit to reading.*

"Charlie." *Her voice is small and tired, the fight draining out of it.* "Why are you doing this? You've known me for a week."


Charlie

Triple Seven on the way here, glad I picked a good one though, wasn't sure what to get for you. *By the time i'm finished with the apartment Kawakami's done with the soup, putting it away on the nightstand as I sit down on the bed again.*
Good job finishing it, hopefully you can get some more rest tonight. Here, let me swap your towel though...


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami has given up fighting. The fever, the soup warmth in her belly, and the sheer exhaustion of being sick for two days have sapped whatever resistance she had left. She sits there, blanket pooled around her waist, as you peel the warm towel off her forehead.*

*Up close, without the professional armor of makeup and composure, she looks younger in some ways and older in others. Dark circles under her eyes that aren't just from the fever. A small scar near her hairline you've never noticed before. Faint freckles across the bridge of her nose that foundation usually covers.*

*You fold the fresh cold towel and press it to her forehead. She shivers at the temperature change, her eyes half-closing.*

"Nn..."

*Her hand comes up reflexively, fingers brushing against yours on the towel before she catches herself and pulls back.*

"You're..." *She starts, voice barely above a whisper. The fever is pulling her back under, eyelids drooping.* "You're really strange, you know that? What kind of student... cleans their teacher's apartment and brings them soup..."

*Her head tilts slightly, leaning into the cool towel — and by extension, your hand still holding it in place.*

"Amamiya used to do stuff like this," *she murmurs, half-conscious.* "Showing up when I didn't ask... being kind when he didn't have to be... it's not fair, you know? Making someone rely on you like that..."

*Her breathing is starting to even out. She's fading fast.*

*She doesn't resist when you take the towel off her forehead. It's gone warm from her fever, practically useless. You fold it, walk to the kitchen, run it under cold water, wring it out, and come back. The whole time she tracks you with glassy, fever-bright eyes like she's trying to solve a math problem that won't balance.*

*When you sit back down on the bed the frame dips noticeably under your weight. She's small in the bed — not just short but **small**, curled up with her knees drawn in, the oversized shirt making her look even smaller. Without the professional armor of her blazer and pencil skirt she looks less like a teacher and more like someone who forgot to take care of herself.*

*You place the fresh towel on her forehead. She flinches at the cold, then exhales slowly, eyes half-closing.*

"Why are you doing this?" *she asks. Not accusatory this time. Genuinely confused. Her voice is barely above a whisper, the fever stripping away her usual defensive edge.* "You've known me for a week. I'm just your homeroom teacher's colleague. I'm not even **your** teacher."

*Her hand comes up and lands on your wrist — not pushing you away, just... resting there. Her fingers are hot from the fever, thin and slightly calloused.*

"You should go home. You'll catch this." *A pause.* "...Thank you for the soup. And the cleaning. And the..." *She gestures vaguely at the towel, at her apartment, at the general concept of someone giving a shit.* "...all of it."


Charlie

You know, I really respect Amamiya-san, but part of me also dislikes how easy everything seems to come to him. *I lean in close, gently helping you back down on the bed.* Guess I want to be able to do stuff he can't to prove myself, strange as that sounds. So i'm going to be a bit selfish now. *I lean in close, pressing a faint kiss to your temple.*


Persona Simulator

*She's too far gone to react properly. Her eyes flutter at the press of your lips against her fevered skin, a small intake of breath that catches in her throat. For a second her hand twitches toward you — reaching for what, she probably couldn't say — before it falls back to the mattress.*

"That's... not selfish," *she mumbles, words slurring into each other as sleep drags her under.* "Selfish would be... if I asked you to stay..."

*Her breathing evens out. She's asleep. The cold towel sits neatly on her forehead, her damp hair fanning across the pillow. One hand is curled loosely near where you're sitting, fingers slightly open like they were reaching for something.*

*Her apartment is clean now. The soup bowl is empty. The blanket has slipped again and you can see the steady rise and fall of her chest under that oversized shirt, the collar hanging low enough to show her collarbone and the faint tan line from a necklace she isn't wearing.*

*Kawakami's eyes snap open. Not all the way — the fever won't allow that — but enough. Her breath catches, a tiny hitch that's audible in the quiet apartment. The spot where your lips touched her skin feels like it's burning hotter than the fever.*

*For three full seconds she just stares at you. Brown eyes, glassy with sickness, wide and unguarded in a way she'd never allow if she were healthy. Something flickers through them — surprise, confusion, and something deeper that she shoves down so hard it practically makes a sound.*

"...That's..." *Her voice is barely a whisper.* "That's not selfish. That's **dangerous**."

*She doesn't move away. Doesn't turn her head. Just lies there on her pillow, looking up at you with the towel cool against her forehead and your face still close enough that she can probably count your eyelashes.*

"I'm your teacher." *It comes out like a reflex. A script she's reading from because the alternative is thinking about what just happened.* "You're... you can't just..."

*Her hand finds your wrist. You expect her to push you away. She doesn't. Her fingers just rest there, light and trembling and fever-warm.*

"You should go home." *Quiet. Almost pleading.* "Before I'm too sick to remember this and you do something we can't take back."

*A pause. Her grip on your wrist tightens by a fraction.*

"...Thank you. For the soup."


Charlie

*The next morning Kawakami wakes up after having slept for 14 hours straight, only a faint migraine remaining from the fever, that and a desperate need to get some liquid in her.*
*Getting up from the bed and making her way to the kitchen and grabbing a can of coffee the tension on her shoulders seems to mellow out a little. Sipping on it she makes her way back through the apartment, now clean and as it should be: Quiet, calm, papers on the desk, me asleep on the sofa, phone showing no new messages...wait.*

*The tension in her shoulders comes right back.*


Persona Simulator

*Kawakami stands in the doorway between her kitchen and living room, canned coffee frozen halfway to her lips. Her brain runs through the five stages of grief in about four seconds.*

*You're sprawled across her couch — a couch that is absolutely not designed for someone your height. Your legs hang off one end, one arm dangling to the floor, your Shujin blazer draped over you like a makeshift blanket. Your curly brown hair is a mess, pressed flat on one side from the cushion. You look peaceful. You also look very much like a student who spent the night in his teacher's apartment.*

*The canned coffee trembles in her grip.*

"No," *she whispers to herself.* "No, no, no, no—"

*She sets the coffee down on the counter with exaggerated care, like sudden movements might make the situation more real. Then she presses both hands to her face.*

*The apartment is spotless. She remembers that. She remembers the soup. She remembers him cleaning. She remembers the towel, and his hand, and—*

*Her fingers touch her temple where his lips were. The skin there feels normal. No mark, no evidence. But she **remembers**.*

"Oh god," *she breathes through her fingers.*

*She looks at you again. Asleep. Defenseless. Mouth slightly open. There's a red line on your cheek from the couch cushion seam.*

*She should wake you up. She should yell. She should kick you out immediately and establish that this never happened and can never happen again.*

"...I'm calling in sick again," *she mutters, retreating to her bathroom to have a crisis in private.*

*Kawakami stands in her kitchen holding a can of coffee, staring at the sofa like it just insulted her mother.*

*You're sprawled across it — or as sprawled as someone your height can be on a couch meant for a small Japanese woman. Your legs hang over the armrest from the knee down, one arm draped over your chest, the other dangling to the floor. Your Shujin blazer is folded neatly on the coffee table. You're in your white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of deep sleep. Your curly hair is a mess.*

*Kawakami takes a very long sip of coffee.*

*The logical part of her brain — the teacher part, the responsible adult part — is screaming. A male student slept over at her apartment. Alone. While she was unconscious and wearing almost nothing. If anyone found out, her career wouldn't just end, it would be **obliterated**. They'd put her on the news. She'd never teach again.*

*The other part of her brain, the traitorous part, notes that he cleaned her apartment, brought her soup, changed her towel, and then slept on a couch that's clearly too small for him instead of leaving. And that her fever broke sometime in the night. And that she slept better than she has in months.*

*She hates that part of her brain.*

"Charlie." *She says it firmly. Then again, louder.* "**Charlie.** Wake up. Now."

*Kawakami stands in the middle of her apartment, coffee can frozen halfway to her lips, staring at the sofa like it just personally insulted her.*

*You're sprawled across it — well, as much as someone your height **can** sprawl on a sofa clearly designed for a small Japanese woman. Your legs hang off the end from the knee down, one arm dangling off the side, your Shujin blazer folded neatly on the armrest and used as a makeshift blanket that covers approximately nothing. Your curly hair is a mess, your face relaxed in sleep in a way that makes you look younger than you usually present.*

*It's 6:47 AM. She has to be at school by 8:30. There is a student asleep on her couch. A student who kissed her forehead last night. A student whose kiss she can still feel like a brand on her temple if she thinks about it, which she is absolutely not doing.*

*She takes a very long sip of coffee.*

"Okay," *she whispers to herself.* "Okay. Options. Option one: wake him up, kick him out, pretend this never happened. Option two: leave for school before he wakes up and pretend this never happened. Option three—"

*There is no option three. There should not be an option three. Option three does not exist.*

*She looks at the folded blazer on the armrest. He folded it neatly before sleeping. Who does that? What teenager folds their clothes before crashing on their teacher's couch?*

*Her phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. A text from the school — do you need another day of sick leave?*

*She looks at the phone. Looks at you. Looks at the phone.*


Charlie

*10 minutes after she's locked the door there's a gentle knock on it.*
Good morning, I guess you're feeling better since you're out of bed. I dont know how much you remember from yesterday but we didn't do anything, you just slept until now. It was just that you said it would have been selfish if you asked me to stay before falling asleep so I figured you didn't want to be alone last night. *A long pause.* Want me to leave?


Persona Simulator

</s>

*The bathroom is tiny. Kawakami sits on the closed toilet lid, knees pulled up, forehead pressed against them. The door is locked. A seventeen — eighteen? — year-old boy is on the other side of it. In her apartment. Where he spent the night.*

*She heard every word through the thin door. "You said it would be selfish if you asked me to stay." Did she say that? She fucking **said** that?*

*Her fingers dig into her shins.*

"I..." *Her voice comes out cracked. She clears her throat.* "Give me a minute."

*The tile floor is cold under her bare feet. She's still in the oversized shirt and shorts from yesterday. No bra. Hair a disaster. Breath probably terrible despite the coffee. She looks at herself in the mirror above the sink and sees a woman who has made a series of choices she cannot explain to any authority figure, HR representative, or court of law.*

*But also — the apartment is clean. Her fever broke. She slept fourteen hours for the first time in months. And some stupid, reckless, too-tall boy kissed her temple and stayed because she mumbled something pathetic in her sleep.*

*She unlocks the door. Opens it a crack. One eye visible, bloodshot and wary.*

"I don't want you to leave," *she says, barely audible.* "And that's the **problem**, Charlie. I'm supposed to want you to leave. I'm supposed to be furious. Why am I not furious?"

*Her fingers grip the doorframe.*

"...Make me breakfast. And then we're going to talk about what the hell is happening here. And you're **never** telling anyone about this."


Charlie

Will do! *The singular eye watches as I move into the kitchen (taking about 4 steps when you're this tall) and begin to work with whats available. 15 minutes later there's two plates of reheated soy-sauce mackerel and miso soup on the table by the window.*

So, do you actually want to say the quiet part out loud or just acknowledge its happening? *Sitting down at the table I give you a smile thats equal parts kicked dog and puppy waiting for treats.*