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One or two strange incidents could be chalked up to coincidence. A handful of bizarre happenings could be shooed away from one’s mind with some superstition or half-formed conspiracy theory. However, there was a certain limit to willful ignorance. At some point, one had to take off their blinders and pursue hidden, even unfathomable truths, no matter how daunting that task might be.

It was almost funny. Those very sentiments were the sort of fluff statements Goro used to give to the media regarding the mysterious “psychotic breakdown” incidents he was oh-so-diligently investigating. In his current state of living, however, there was no one to listen to his musings. He didn’t even dare voice them, letting his thoughts stew in the back of his mind as he watched the news. His cup of instant ramen had gone cold, abandoned on the coffee table.

At the beginning of summer, a few politicians had confessed to bribery and document tampering and resigned from their positions. A seedy producer publicly quit the industry, weeping about the men and women he’d abused with a pathetic, plastic-like sincerity that made Goro’s skin prickle. Then, all at once, the pattern became so widespread that it was all-encompassing, consuming the airwaves and invading Goro’s thoughts from every angle. 

He knew what he was witnessing. It was all too obvious.

However, it was only when a piece of evidence that he couldn’t hide away and ignore appeared on the screen in front of him that his gut twisted and his throat began to close up. The news anchors spoke of a viral EMMA account, advertised by a number of bright red cards strewn about Shibuya as a service that could change hearts.

“Change a Heart Today. Keyword: PhantomShow.”

It was him.

There wasn’t a particular path of reasoning that led Goro to his conclusion. It was just gut instinct, like he was programmed to identify traces of his rival. The cards, the heart-changing, the goddamn name…

The bastard had resurrected the Phantom Thieves.

But how? The Metaverse…The Metaverse…

With trembling hands, Goro reached for his phone and navigated through the applications, his eyes flickering this way and that. That ugly red app, that vice, that curse, that safe-haven, that nightmare was nowhere to be found. 

That, of course, prompted a very important question –– just how the hell is Akira doing this? Without a way of accessing the other world, and indeed, without the existence of that very world, Akira Kurusu should have no power to change hearts. Goro certainly didn’t have any way to induce psychosis or a mental shutdown without the use of a Persona, a part of him that was confined to a parallel world of malleable reality. 

But it no longer existed. That was the whole fucking point of taking down Maruki. Then again, Goro had clawed his way back to life after the supposed collapse of the Metaverse. He’d be a fool to think that all that was supernatural in their world stemmed from one particular source, that false god Yaldaboath he’d heard about from the Phantom Thieves. It really wasn’t far-fetched to assume that Akira had uncovered a new method of changing hearts, and was using it just because he could, without any regard for the consequences. 

And there would be consequences. Goro was going to be one of them. 

As he paced around his apartment like a man possessed, he considered his options. One way or another, he had to confirm the situation before rushing into action. He had been making an effort to work on controlling his worst impulses, even speaking to a therapist anonymously on a weekly basis. It felt futile and just…stupid most of the time, but every so often, Dr. Matsui would say something that made a lick of sense, and for a fleeting moment, Goro would feel like he could be more than his past, more than his crimes, more than the son of Masayoshi Shido. But in that moment, Goro felt any semblance of control he had over his own mind and emotions slipping as everything he’d been trying to move past barged back into his life, too infuriating and fascinating to be ignored. 

He considered contacting one of the other Phantom Thieves, whoever he thought might be the easiest to intimidate or otherwise squeeze information out of, but in the end, he dismissed the idea. Whether or not they were involved, he was sure they were supporting Akira in his endeavors as they always had. 

They have to be…right?

Goro halted his pacing and forced himself to focus. Fake detective or not, he had to think through every step of his reasoning and take no shortcuts based on assumptions or emotions. Whatever or whoever was changing hearts en masse in Tokyo was quite similar to the Phantom Thieves in many ways, mainly their modus operandi . But there were some differences that couldn’t be overlooked. For one thing…even without sitting down and compiling every unprompted confession of wrongdoing that had aired on the news over the course of the summer, Goro knew there were a lot. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands. 

If Goro had learned one thing in his brief stint as a Phantom Thief, it was that changing hearts in the Metaverse was far from efficient. Even discounting how long it took to navigate a palace, even a target in Mementos had to be researched, tracked down, and sent some sort of calling card. Even if every single Phantom Thief was working independently to take down as many targets as possible in the span of about a month, Goro surmised they’d still only be able to change the hearts of about a third of the people he’d witnessed acting strangely on the news.

And those were just the ones who had been reported on. 

Another oddity –– the lack of Phantom Thieves branding and the notable absence of calling cards. While during his initial investigation Goro had written off the calling cards as nothing more than a means of gloating, he’d later learned that sending the calling card was an essential part of the heart-stealing process. So, was there a chance that the pattern he was seeing, these assumed “changes of heart” were something else entirely, completely unrelated to the Phantom Thieves. 

But if the new phenomenon of heart-changing had nothing to do with Akira and his group of thieves, then why hadn’t they done anything? They weren’t all entirely idiotic. Surely one of them had noticed the same pattern Goro had long ago, when summer break had just begun. Really, it had been obvious for a while that something sinister was afoot, and the only reason Goro hadn’t done anything was that he didn’t give a shit in general about the state of the world. If there was a problem, Akira could take care of it, and if Akira was the problem…

Solving said problem would mean having to see Akira again. Goro wasn’t sure he was ready for that. 

It had taken the sight of the red card –– clear, physical evidence that something was connecting the incidents, a slap in the face to the detective who had hung up his tie and tucked away his gloves –– to get Goro off the fucking couch and force him to do his damn job. It felt like the universe was laughing at him, prodding at him until he was forced to care, if only because no one else seemed to. 

The Phantom Thieves, if they weren’t the culprits behind the changes of heart (and Goro still wasn’t sure they weren’t), hadn’t done anything. Goro quickly pulled up Ann Takamaki’s Instagram account to verify his theory, and saw that all of the thieves except for Akira had left about two weeks prior for a technology-free camping trip, so they were likely blissfully ignorant of the fact that everything was going to shit. Or perhaps, simply unperturbed by it. Another quick search revealed that Sumire Yoshizawa was away at some gymnastics training camp. She didn’t look especially happy in the photo. Almost…indifferent. 

And on the topic of indifference… Goro thought to himself, closing the app and pocketing his phone, unconsciously bringing his hand to rest on his chin. Why haven’t I seen the police making any sort of statement? It should be in their best interest to put a stop to the incidents. A string of confessions of corruption, especially from government positions, should have them in a panic. 

It was like some sort of sick joke. The world outside the confines of Goro’s apartment had gone mad, leaving him as the only one with the ability to do something about it. Goro Akechi didn’t care, personally, if the world went mad and destroyed itself, but, unfortunately, he did still carry a weakness inside himself that he just couldn’t erase. He cared about Akira Kurusu, and one way or another, Akira was in trouble. Either he was being a fucking idiot, ignoring all the clear signs of heart-changing around him, or he was an even bigger fucking idiot, and he was the one behind it all.

Goro marched over to his closet, grabbed a pair of shoes, then froze where he stood. Despite all the time he’d stood around thinking, he still didn’t have any sort of plan. He still needed more information, so there was no need to jump the gun and expose himself to the outside world without a better idea of what he was dealing with. Fortunately for him…he still had one avenue yet to explore. 

Goro dropped his pair of shoes and turned on his heels to head for his bedroom, turning off the light as he walked and and sitting down on his bed, eyebrows furrowed. He never thought he’d be resorting to reaching out to the residents of the Velvet Room. After all, he’d specifically told them he refused to be contacted by them and be their little errand-boy like Kurusu. Goro Akechi didn’t trust as a rule, but he was left with no other choice. He had to ask for their help and hope it wasn’t a complete waste of time. 

Still…Igor and Lavenza had both, as far as he could tell, kept their promises to him. If they had told Akira that Goro was alive, there was no chance Akira wouldn’t have tracked him down already. So if he just…called for Lavenza, agreed to dip his toes into the whole “wildcard” thing, then he’d be able to get whatever answers he could from them and decide what he wanted to do next. Even if those two clearly favored Akira, their chosen hero, Goro got the impression they would at least pretend to be impartial. 

Can you hear me? Goro called silently, as he finally laid down his head on his pillow. I need to talk to you.  

“...ah, Goro Akechi. Welcome to the Velvet Room.”

Goro blinked his eyes open and jerked his head back and forth to take in his surroundings. The last time he’d found himself in the Velvet Room, its shape was undefined, as he himself was. As he’d passed through the strange royal blue and gold dimension after the collapse of Maruki’s reality, he’d been stuck between life and death, his state of being as undefinable as his surroundings. But, several months had passed, and Goro could no longer deny that he was alive, so instead of questioning the state of his existence, Goro began to question…everything else. 

It was only natural the shape of his heart would be something like a grand courtroom. 

Goro looked down at where he was standing –– he was apparently playing the role of the defendant — then turned to face the one who’d addressed him.

Igor was sitting off to the side, behind what Goro could only assume was the bench for a defense attorney. At his side stood Lavenza, who seemed to be trying to cover up a wild mix of emotions under a neutral, professional expression. 

“You came back,” she said softly. 

“What the hell is going on and how do I put a stop to it?” Goro demanded. 

In response, Igor merely chuckled. 

“This is certainly a surprise,” Igor said. “The wildcard who rejected our help not too long ago has appeared before us in the time when he is needed most. The balance of the world outside this place is under siege, and humanity is being coaxed into the clutches of a malevolent force. But, in the eleventh hour, when we need him most, Goro Akechi has found his way here again. The actions of a young wildcard are truly fascinating.”

“What malevolent force?” Goro asked. “If things are so serious, would it kill you to speak plainly?”

Igor chuckled once again in lieu of a response, and Goro rolled his eyes. He was trying to do the right thing, but he was already starting to regret it.

“You’re the only one left who may be able to save the world,” Lavenza said, clutching her book tightly. “The Trickster…he’s…been trapped by a deity who wishes him harm.”

“The Trickster?” Goro repeated. 

Could she mean…Akira?

“Yes,” Lavenza said. “Akira Kurusu is in danger. This malevolent force…it preyed upon his vulnerabilities and is using him to enact its will on humanity.”

“Didn’t you warn him?” Goro asked. “He told me that he used to get ominous dreams from the Velvet Room on the regular. If he was in so much fucking danger, then––”

“We tried,” Lavenza insisted, losing her nerve for a moment. Then, she quickly collected herself and stared down at the floor. “I tried. We devised a plan that could have helped him, but the risk was far too great. I…couldn’t lose another Wildcard I’d been assigned to protect.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Goro snapped. “I may not be some paragon like Kurusu, but you’ll find I’m perfectly capable.”

“There is no denying your strength of will,” Igor said. With a wave of his hand, he made Hereward appear, towering over the three of them in the Judge’s chair. “Your Persona is quite powerful. Of course, should you agree to step into the role of a Wildcard, we will aid you however we can. There are many ways to strengthen your Persona and teach it new skills. Please keep that in mind, and call for Lavenza whenever you require her services.”

Lavenza gave a small bow to punctuate Igor’s words. Even as she did, her eyes were focused on Goro, their intensity almost overwhelming. 

“Is there anything you require at the moment?” she asked.

There was a skill that Goro knew he should be getting rid of, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. After all, he was on his own. Getting rid of the one trick he had up his sleeve when he wasn’t even aware of what he might be facing would just be idiotic, no matter how sick the thought of using that power again made him feel.

“I don’t need your help,” Goro said shortly. “The way I see it, I just need to find Akira and talk some sense into him. He’s an idiot, but he’ll listen to me.”

Won’t he? He has to. 

“You were used in a similar manner by the false god, Yaldaboath,” Igor said, his unsettling smile growing subtly wider. “And yet, despite the odds, you broke free of the fate thrust upon you. There is still hope that Akira Kurusu can accomplish that as well. Perhaps, with a bit of help from someone like you.”

“Please, Goro Akechi,” Lavenza said. “You must save him. And if you cannot…then you must do what is necessary to save your world.”

Goro held back a scoff. He wasn’t the right person to save the world –– a fact that must have been obvious to Igor and Lavenza, since they were talking about him as if he was nothing more than their shitty, unreliable backup Wildcard. His first priority was smacking some sense into Akira, and that was all. And while it was true that a tiny, childish voice in the back of his head kept whispering “ this is your chance to be a hero” Goro knew better than to trust it.

Even as he left the Velvet Room, a plan already forming in his mind, he felt a pit opening in his stomach. 

When Goro left the Velvet Room, he grabbed his old collapsible toy sword, a model gun, a few snacks, and a wad of cash, throwing on a pair of sunglasses and tying his hair up in a passing effort to keep his identity safe. Akira didn’t seem to be camping with all his friends, so Goro was sure he’d be at Leblanc. If not there, then wherever the hell he lived out in the country. It didn’t matter where he hid –– Goro would find him.

While transferring trains at Shibuya station, Goro stopped for just a minute to grab a pastry at Yon Germain, a bakery he used to frequent back when he was alive to the world. Goro by no means believed the bullshit he used to say in interviews about sugar helping him think, but well…it wouldn’t hinder his thinking either. 

Goro was certain that finding a way into the Metaverse again would be his largest hurdle to clear, but as it turned out, his first and only clue about Akira’s new heart-stealing scheme was the key. That keyword, “PhantomShow”, which was written proudly on hundreds, possibly thousands of physical cards and reposted digitally everywhere Goro searched on the internet was a friend code that worked with some new app that everyone in the world was talking about. 

The “EMMA” app –– some sort of search engine with an artificial intelligence, was easy enough to download, and just out of curiosity, Goro typed in the keyword, taking comfort in the fact that his Persona’s existence meant that he was immune to having his heart stolen. In fact, that immunity was probably one of the only reasons Akira hadn’t stolen his heart the first time they met, if he was apparently so keen on stealing Desires indiscriminately. 

Goro wasn’t sure what would happen when he typed in the keyword and hit Submit, but the world warping around him in a way that was all too familiar hadn’t even made his working list of theories. Goro held his head in a fruitless attempt to quell the ache, and allowed himself a moment to be relieved that he’d bothered to duck out of sight of the crowd before testing out that strange keyword. 

When his vision cleared, Goro looked down at his hands in confusion, finding neither pristine white gloves or clawed gauntlets, but instead, black fingerless gloves. His whole outfit had changed it seemed, a reflection of his ever-changing morals and the way he viewed himself. His spirit of rebellion had turned out to be an unexpectedly cohesive fusion of Robin Hood and Loki. 

A quick glance at his surroundings brought an even greater curiosity to his attention –– the place he’d found himself in felt very much like the Metaverse, but it definitely wasn’t a Palace. 

It seemed that he’d ended up in some twisted version of Shibuya, that stretched further than he could see. Such a large pocket of the Metaverse wasn’t unheard of, necessarily, but the level of detail he was seeing, entirely without distortion, certainly was. Junya Kaneshiro’s palace had stretched across all of Shibuya, yet the street signs were blurred, buildings melded together, and there was a clear epicenter –– the flying bank. But the Shibuya Goro found himself in was terribly detailed, so much so that he still found himself in the train station, re-created down to the crumbs around the garbage cans and the ever-changing arrival times. 

If Goro wasn’t so practiced in the Metaverse, there was a chance he might not have noticed the change at all, if he were somewhere that he’d be entirely alone and his clothes hadn’t changed. But there was no denying that he’d crossed over to the other side of reality. The air was alive, like every molecule was on edge, bursting with energy ready to be unleashed. Goro felt Hereward’s presence at the front of his mind and let his shoulders relax, just a little. 

Knowing he had to get a better grasp of the situation, Goro unsheathed his sword and held it steady, stalking his way out of the eerily-empty Shibuya station and out into the square, where unlike the real world, it seemed to be nighttime. Goro quickly got to work scaling the tallest building in the vicinity to get a better view. The world never blurred, never lost detail. Everything was quiet, but there was a peaceful sort of air to the cognitive city. Above Goro’s head was a canopy of stars, far too numerous to be seen in the glow of the city. In fact, the only unnaturally bright thing in sight was far in the distance. 

Goro frowned and felt his eyebrows knit together. A pocket of the Metaverse as big as Shibuya…he had no fucking clue how he was supposed to find clues in such an elaborate dungeon. Though Lavenza and Igor had literally nothing helpful to say, Goro could gather that he didn’t have much time to act. 

They were counting on him to save Akira, who was no doubt the one stealing hearts. His motives were a mystery, but not one that Goro couldn’t solve with ease. He knew Akira too well, and he already had some idea of why he might be stealing hearts again. 

The fucking nerve of him. After all we went through. After Shido, after Maruki…that bastard. I’m going to make him sorry he ever did something so stupid, and then we’ll beat up this “malevolent deity” thing together. And then I’ll smack him so he knows not to do it again.

Goro reached for his anger and clutched it close to his chest, holding it in his mind like a lifeline. That spark of hatred…it had made him feel more alive than he had in months. Finally, he took a step forward, hellbent on reaching his destination. 

The approach was somewhat simple, perhaps shortsighted, but there was nothing Goro could do but trust his own strength and approach that light in the distance. His instincts told him that he’d find Akira there, and there was no time to dwell on that molotov cocktail of emotions, so Goro instead tried to focus on a much more pressing annoyance –– he was going to be walking all fucking night. 

“Never thought I’d miss that stupid cat,” Goro mumbled under his breath. As annoying as said cat was, Goro would kill for any sort of vehicle. Quite literally, if such an opportunity suddenly were to present itself. As it was, Goro figured all he could do was check to see if the trains in the station somehow ran on their own, a single detour he would allow himself from his mission to traverse the city, headed straight for Akira.

Goro jumped off the building, tucking and rolling as he hit the ground and dusting himself off. It seemed the power of cognition was still somewhat at work in the Metaverse, despite the lack of clear distortion around him. That could mean that the trains ran on their normal schedule even without a conductor. And if that was the case…Goro figured he ought to catch a train heading towards Yongen-Jaya. 

Goro saw a few shadows wandering through the station, but they were just weaklings that weren’t worth his time, so he ignored them, sneaking his way to the proper subway platform. It was off putting, being in what initially looked like an entirely vacant train station and worse than that, it was a place filled to the brim with memories. Without any noise to distract Goro, he couldn’t help but stare at every place he’d used to frequent in the station. The abandoned back hallway behind the station’s worst bathrooms where he’d disappear into Mementos. The pathway to the underground mall, where he’d once seen Akira looking at an expensive silver bangle in a display, (one that would later be gifted to Ryuji Sakamoto) and felt such an intense wave of rage that he’d gone straight home and ignored his casework to pout by himself and eat junk food.

The spot where he’d stand, waiting for the train that would take him to Yongen-Jaya, to Leblanc, to Akira. The place where he’d linger, left alone with his thoughts for just a few minutes. The place where he’d insist to himself that he was getting close to Akira for his investigation, or for the sake of gaining his trust before betraying him. The place where he’d dream of another life where he and Akira could fight side by side or…just live side by side, free from the dangers and expectations of the Metaverse.

The roar of an approaching train broke Goro from his thoughts, and when he blinked, doors were opening in front of him, inviting him inside an empty, but immaculately recreated subway car. Goro was about to step on when his gaze fell on something unusual, tucked in back in the one corner of the platform that wasn’t lit up. Goro turned away from the train, his curiosity effectively piqued. There was a sleek white box, made of some sort of metal that Goro couldn’t identify. It had no clear lid or buttons on it, no point of entry, and yet, it seemed so alien to the subway station that Goro couldn’t ignore it.

Still, he saw no reason to throw caution to the wind, especially in a new Metaverse he knew very little about, so he tightened his grip on his sword, approached the white box, and swung. The sizzling, jagged blade of his saber cut cleanly through the metal, strangely causing the thing to let out something of a high-pitched and unnatural shriek. 

Goro took a step back, his sword at the ready. The box in front of him shifted and began to glow, its structure turning in on itself and collapsing into nothing, revealing its contents. Goro’s eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at, but he kept his sword where it was, not one to let his guard down. 

There was a young girl inside, likely not human, but seemingly sentient on some level. Her eyes snapped open, revealing wide electric blue irises and an abnormally plain expression. She carefully got to her feet, took a quick look around, and then finally settled her gaze on Goro. She stared right through him, and Goro shifted into a battle stance, Hereward’s name on the tip of his tongue.

“Hello,” the girl said.

Goro stayed very still.

“What is this place?” the girl asked. “Who are you?”

Goro didn’t speak. It wasn’t as if he had an answer to her first question, and he had no reason to answer her second question. 

“I will go first,” the girl said. “I am Sophia, Humanity’s companion.”

Finally, Goro couldn’t keep his words in any longer.

“...what the fuck?” he asked.

“Do you have a name?” the girl, Sophia, apparently, asked.

Goro grunted in annoyance. It would be the best tactical decision to cooperate on some level with the girl.

“...Crow,” Goro said.

“Hello, Crow,” Sophia said, smiling up at him and waving with all the grace of a robot in disrepair. 

“Yes, yes, hello,” Goro said. “Are you a shadow? You don’t look human. Tell me about this place.”

“One moment,” Sophia said. “Hmmm. I see. I just learned that I have no memories. So, I cannot tell you about this place. I do not know what you mean by shadow, but I do not think I am one. I am not a human either. I am an artificial intelligence.”

“You’re an AI, then,” Goro said. “Like EMMA?”

Sophia cocked her head in confusion.

“I do not understand your inquiry,” Sophia said. “I’m sorry.”

“EMMA is the name of another artificial intelligence,” Goro said. “In fact…it has something to do with where we are now. There’s no way of knowing how greatly that application factors into this new Metaverse, but if the app is the gateway between this world and reality, then the answer might lie with that AI or the company that created it.”

“I do not have access to information about anything outside of this world at this time,” Sophia said. “But as humanity’s companion, I will answer any questions to the best of my ability once I am provided with a data source.”

“If you’re an artificial intelligence,” Goro said. “Might you have the capability to read any of the data this world is made of?” 

He’d seen Sakura do something similar with her own Persona, using her technological expertise to manipulate the very nature of the cognitive world to their advantage. If there was a chance Sophia could do the same to give Goro a better idea of where he was, then it was a risk worth taking, putting a bit of his trust in her. 

“Okay,” Sophia said. “I will try to read any data around this area.” 

“Great,” Goro said sarcastically, putting away his sword, thoroughly convinced that Sophia was not smart enough to be a danger to him in any way. He had missed the train while talking to Sophia, so he reluctantly marched his way back over to the spot behind the yellow line to wait for the next one. To his annoyance, Sophia followed him. 

“What are you doing?” Sophia asked.

“Waiting for the damn train because this place is the size of fucking Shibuya,” Goro said through his teeth. 

“This Jail covers a greater area than Shibuya,” Sophia said.

“What?” Goro asked. “What are you talking about?”

“According to the data I was able to collect, this place is called a Jail,” Sophia said simply. “It covers all of Tokyo, and it’s currently growing.”

A Jail…a pocket of the Metaverse as large as Tokyo? That was unheard of. The only Palace that rivaled it would be Mementos, which housed the shadows and partially formed treasures of every person in Tokyo, everyone in Japan, everyone in the world. 

When another train pulled into the station, Goro practically leapt at it, his hands banging on the automatic doors before they opened. Sophia didn’t react, as Goro was beginning to realize was the norm for her. He just needed one last piece of information from her before he moved on.

“Sophia, right?” Goro asked.

“How can I help?” Sophia asked.

“The…” Goro said, starting to feel somewhat disconnected from himself. “The treasure…where is it?”

“The treasure?” Sophia said. “Give me a second to search the premises for a ‘treasure’.”

“It should be the core of this place,” Goro said. “You said you can analyze the data that makes up this ‘Jail’, so just tell me if I’m headed in the right direction or not.”

“This train is headed towards a strong source of energy,” Sophia stated. “My search for a ‘treasure’ did not return any results, but if you are looking for the core of this Jail, you are following the correct path.”

“Great,” Goro said roughly, stepping onto the train. “Thanks.” 

Goro sat down and placed his sword across his lap, a million thoughts running through his head at once.

A Jail? Why is it called a Jail? Does it have something to do with the way Lavenza described things? She said Akira was being used…that he had been trapped. If that was the case…maybe he wouldn’t even need to convince Akira to listen to him. Maybe he could just find Akira, slaughter any shadows that got in his way, and properly reunite with his rival. 

“Why do you need to find a ‘treasure’?”

Goro looked up and saw that Sophia had followed him onto the train, taking a seat across from him and eyeing him with that relentlessly curious gaze of hers.

“Oh, you’re coming along?” Goro said, not bothering to hide his contempt. 

“I am humanity’s companion,” Sophia said. “You are a human, so it is my duty to be your companion for as long as you need.”

“You keep saying that,” Goro said. 

“It is my objective,” Sophia explained. “It is the only thing that I can access in my memory. Designation: Sophia. Primary Objective: Be Humanity’s Companion. Since I am currently acting as your companion, I wish to understand your objectives. Why are you looking for a ‘treasure’?”

“So I can destroy this place,” Goro said, searching Sophia for any sort of reaction. Even if she didn’t seem to be a shadow, there was still a chance she played some sort of role in the security of the Jail. If Goro would have to fight her, it would be better to do it in a place where he could easily corner her, like the subway.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” Sophia said. “I will help you destroy this Jail, Crow.”

It was only after she’d finished speaking that Sophia looked pensive, or at least as pensive as she could seem with her inhuman features. 

“What will happen to me when this place is destroyed?” Sophia asked.

“That is of no concern to me,” Goro said.

“Okay, I’ve got that,” Sophia said. “Current objective: Destroy the Jail. I will provide you aid however I can. In turn, I hope you will provide me with feedback on how I can become a better companion. May I sit next to you?”

“Whatever,” Goro mumbled under his breath. Sophia beamed and scampered across the subway car to sit right next to Goro, keeping to herself, but joining him in peering out the windows of the train with wide eyes. As the train whipped through the underground, Goro caught glimpses of Jail cells lit up red, which shone hauntingly into their car for split seconds before disappearing. In some of the cells, Goro was sure he could make out human shapes, but they were too numerous to stare at for too long, and Goro and Sophia were at the mercy of the train.

Goro knew how long a trip to Yongen-Jaya ought to take by train –– no more than about five minutes. Before he could even sense the train slowing down, Goro could tell they were nearly there. The atmosphere was more tense, he could hear whispers of strangers between gusts of wind, and Sophia sat up straighter in her seat. 

Somewhere up there, Akira was waiting. If Goro’s instincts were correct, a large number of shadows would be ready to greet him as well, perhaps as soon as he disembarked the train. As the announcer called out “Yongen-Jaya Station” and the brakes brought the train to a halt, Goro couldn’t help but smirk when he saw that his instincts were correct. Standing just outside of the train's closed doors were dozens of shadows, dressed as security guards. Goro got to his feet, gave his sword a showboating twirl, and got ready to experience a thrill he thought was forever out of his reach.

“Sophia, can you fight?” Goro asked, right before the doors opened.

“If I could fight, would that make me a better companion?” Sophia asked.

“Certainly,” Goro said.

“Okay,” Sophia said with a salute. “I will follow your lead, Crow.”

The doors flew open, and Crow came alive once more. 

It quickly became evident that Yongen-Jaya was the heart of the Jail. Shadows roamed through the streets, lined up like soldiers, all of them murmuring to each other, repeating orders to find the intruders and bring them to the “monarch”. Goro led Sophia through the backstreets, occasionally barking out instructions to hide, keep close, or attack their prey. Goro had to admit, only in the privacy of his own mind, that Sophia had her uses and was competent enough in battle using her yo-yos and some sort of imitation of a Persona.

In comparison to the Palaces Goro was familiar with, the “Jail” they were exploring was insultingly simple. The only challenge to it was navigating the place, as its size easily dwarfed any palace belonging to a singular person that Goro had ever seen. The area’s theming gave Goro some pause. The homey, charming little backstreets were lit up with neon signs and swiveling searchlights. While the Phantom Thieves’ logo was absent, Goro had spotted more than a few murals which resembled Joker’s mask spray painted on the sides of buildings. 

Is this place akin to a Palace, born from Akira’s heart? Or is this place nothing more than a labyrinth designed by whatever malevolent force Lavenza mentioned, which is meant to imprison him and keep him from fighting back?

It wasn’t terribly clear. The changes of heart and theming of the area he and Sophia were exploring were evidence in support of the former theory, and the large tower with a cage at the top which stood where Cafe Leblanc should have been was evidence in support of the latter. The one thing that was clear to Goro was that the tower was their final destination, being the centerpiece of the Jail and the lit-up beacon that Goro had seen from so far away in Shibuya. 

Frustratingly, they couldn’t storm the tower right away, since it was guarded by a large web of electrified fences and turrets ready to fire at the slightest disturbance. Sophia once again proved her usefulness by identifying three spots close by which contained “cores” that powered the security features. In one long, thankless day, Goro collected three of those “cores”, none of which were the treasure he was looking for, according to Sophia. 

The first was a photo of three people. It had an expensive, well-made frame around it that shone brightly in the ever-changing lights of the Jail, and that was the nicest thing Goro could manage to say about it. It had taken him a moment longer than he’d expected to recognize Akira in the photo, but he gave himself a pass considering the boy was ten years younger and lacked the confidence, poise, and ridiculous fake glasses Goro had grown to associate him with. A man and a woman, both who bore only passing resemblances to him, caged him on either side. All of them wore thin, fake smiles. If Goro knew nothing of Akira and wasn’t able to catch their resemblances, he’d think he’d picked up a photo of three strangers. 

The second was a familiar thin white-and black mask. It was easy to hold in his fingers, and turn over in his hand. Its importance could not be felt by simply holding it, not when it wasn’t attached to its owner. For reasons Goro couldn’t really understand, as he picked it up he removed his own mask, which was now a simple black mask adorned with dark feathers. He placed the replica of Joker’s mask on his face and looked around, as if seeing through it might give him any sort of insight. Of course, it didn’t. He disposed of it in an alley and kept walking.

The third core was a single leather glove. 

With the way finally cleared, Goro marched toward the tower, his sword in hand. He had had enough of running around in circles. It was time to finally face Akira and pull him out of the darkness. Then…all of Goro’s debts to the other boy would be settled. They would be rivals again.

Sophia had quickly caught on to the fact that Goro wasn’t in the mood for pointless conversation, so she stuck to her role, providing him with information about the Jail when he asked for it and following his lead as he slashed through shadows mercilessly, often not even sparing their remains a glance. It was only once they’d scaled the side of the tower and walked up to the birdcage when Sophia spoke up unexpectedly.

“One moment,” Sophia said. “I would advise you not to move any closer to that cage.”

Goro flipped his sword in his grip and narrowed his eyes at the AI. Despite the fact that she’d been following him around and providing him with information, her alliances were still unknown and Goro didn’t trust her. 

“That isn’t an option,” Goro stated. “I need to get in there.”

“I agree,” Sophia said. “I believe beyond the walls of this cage, we’ll find the Monarch.”

“The ‘Monarch’?”

“Correct. At least, that is the term I have heard the ‘shadows’ using. I believe it is a term for the ruler of this Jail.”

Goro rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Goro said. “So what’s the problem?”

“I will show you,” Sophia said, taking a step forward toward the golden cage with a hand outstretched. “After all, because I am not human, I am incapable of experiencing pain.”

She stretched out her arm just a bit further, and suddenly it hit a solid wall, some sort of electrified forcefield in the shape of a heavily reinforced metal door resisting the push of her fingertips and glowing with a harsh light. Sophia stood her ground without flinching, even as the world was engulfed in a flash of light and Goro started hearing voices ringing painfully in the back of his head.

“I want to hear you say it. Aloud.”

“Go down with me!”

“Seriously…you really are…”

“Your indecisiveness on this matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes.”

“This isn’t trivial!”

He heard…his own voice. His own words.

When his sudden hallucination faded away, replaced by the buzz of electric stage lights and marching shadows, Goro caught a glimpse of something human-shaped moving inside of the cage. It looked like the figure was hunched over, their posture conveying nothing short of pure agony.

That memory…it’s Akira’s. Was Sophia somehow able to trigger it with just a touch? If…those memories…are somehow driving Akira’s distortion, then…

Goro had to get in there. Goro had to get in there no matter what it did to him. Throwing all caution to the wind, Goro grit his teeth and dove forward, his shoulder hitting an electric wall that sent a wave of fiery pain through his body. Ignoring the way his knees had begun to tremble, Goro pushed against the wall, readjusting himself so his fingers were digging into the wall around the cage, trying to breach it and force his way inside. Goro yelled until his throat hurt, staring at his hands and digging his fingernails into the invisible barrier, doing his utmost to tear it into thin ribbons and run to the figure inside the birdcage. 

“You cannot access the Monarch that way,” Sophia said, somewhere a million miles away. “I believe the key is located in reality, in a place where the Monarch experienced the event we just heard.”

“....fuck…OFF!” Goro yelled, his fingers finally finding their way through the barrier. “I know Akira better than anyone, and he’s going to let me in whether he wants to or not!”

But the barrier didn’t budge, no matter how fervently Goro attacked it. Eventually, Goro’s knees gave out and he collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. His bangs were dripping with sweat and hanging in his eyes, the only thing that could distract from the incessant pounding of his heart. He violently brushed his hair aside and stood up tall, glaring at the accursed cage that he just couldn’t break through. 

There were a great many things that couldn’t be accomplished with brute force, Goro had learned that long ago. The Metaverse had its own logic, logic that often contrasted with common sense, because at the end of the day, Palaces were representations of people, and as a consequence, each Palace was as different as each individual human mind. But Goro could say with certainty that the cage would never let him in as long as Akira himself wasn’t willing to bring down his walls.

 Luckily for Goro, he was something of an expert on Akira Kurusu. If there was one thing about the boy that could be counted on in every situation, it was that he wanted to save people, even people as despicable and broken as Goro Akechi. 

A new plan in mind, Goro took a step back from the cage, turned around, and quickly descended the tower, back the way they came. Sophia called after him, but he didn’t bother slowing down, leaping from ledge to ledge until he landed in the middle of a massive group of shadows. Then, after brushing himself off, he put his hands in the air. 

“It’s one of the intruders!” some shadow yelled. “Capture him and bring him to the Monarch!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Goro saw Sophia following after him, drawing her weapons and attacking the shadows that were rapidly pouring out of alleyways, the cop-shaped ones raising their clubs high above their heads. Goro closed his eyes and exhaled, hoping that his instincts were correct. 

With a sharp blow to the head, he was out cold.

Goro’s head was pounding as he came to his senses. It didn’t take him long to remember where he was, his mission, and what had transpired before he’d woken up, but as soon as he thought to bolt upright, he found he was already seated. The chair was plush, covered in red velvet, just one in a line of identical chairs that encircled a small stage. The whole setup reminded Goro of a Shakespearen theater, and a quick glance upward revealed an extravagant birdcage serving as the theater’s walls and ceiling. It seemed his plan had worked, and he was in the domain of the Monarch.

There was the sound of a door bursting open, but as Goro whipped around to look for the source, he was disappointed to find that it was only a cluster of Shadows, holding Sophia’s unconscious body. Goro couldn’t find much concern to spare for her –– if she was really an AI, then it was likely she couldn’t actually die. 

“Honestly, who raised all of you shadows? Didn’t anyone ever tell you how to treat a guest? Just sit her down. Carefully. ”

Goro directed his attention towards the dark stage –– the source of that familiar voice. As if sensing his gaze, a singular spotlight clicked on, revealing a figure in the middle of the birdcage. In the harsh light, far above Goro’s head, a chandelier of thousands upon thousands of magenta gems sparkled.

Seated in an extravagant leather chair with his feet kicked up on a desk was Akira Kurusu’s shadow, every bit as beautiful and infuriating as Goro remembered him. He wore a crimson suitcoat and matching hat, a pressed white shirt with suspenders and sinfully tight black dress pants. When he glanced up, his golden eyes only barely peaked out under raven bangs and the brim of his hat, but Goro could feel the way they widened with a spark of intense interest from all the way across the room.

“Leave us,” Akira’s shadow commanded with that low rumble Goro hadn’t realized he’d missed so terribly. The shadows immediately complied leaving Sophia draped over one of the chairs. After a second, her eyes shot open, and she went stiff, clearly recognizing the threat in front of them for what he was. 

The shadow rose from his chair slowly and methodically, balancing his weight on impossibly high heels with knife-sharp points. Goro rose to his feet, biting the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the sharp pain in his head. The shadow’s eyes were on him instantly, piercing through him with the force of about every emotion under the sun, all twisted together grotesquely into a longing gaze, laced with possessiveness. 

Not one to be deterred, Goro stepped onto the small stage, keeping his pace steady until he was right across from Akira’s shadow. 

“My my…” Akira’s shadow said. Quick as lightning, he reached for Goro’s chin and tilted it up with gloved fingers, a fond smile curling its way onto his lips. “You’re a pretty one.”

Goro stepped back and slapped the shadow’s hand away.

“An accurate reaction too,” Akira’s shadow said, the corner of his smile twitching briefly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Goro Akechi in here who can glare like you do.”

Under normal circumstances, Goro would have no need to pay attention to the musings of a shadow, but the circumstances were far from normal. He wasn’t there to fight, just to talk some sense into his rival. To get him out of the cage. To be Akira’s hero, for once. And if that meant he had to come clean about everything, then that was what he’d do.

“Ah,” Goro said. “You think I’m a cognition.”

“Well, of course you are,” Akira’s shadow said. “No offense, but your outfit is all wrong. Though, I do appreciate that all of your organs seem to be intact. Those are the worst ones…you look great, though. You look beautiful with your hair up.”

“I’m not a cognition,” Goro said, hoping he could avoid addressing just about everything else that Akira had said. “It’s me, Akira. I’m alive.”

Strangely, Akira’s shadow only laughed in response. He carefully removed his red jacket, folded it, and set it on the desk. Then, he looked Goro up and down with a critical eye, his expression never quite shifting. Akira idly played with one of his suspenders as he began to circle around Goro, making quiet little hums of approval and disapproval at seemingly completely arbitrary moments.

“If you’re quite done, we have important things to discuss,” Goro said sharply.

“You’re not the first Akechi to tell me that, you know.”

The shadow was suddenly right in front of Goro, leaning in closer than Goro would have ever allowed in reality. As much as Goro wanted to shove him away again, there was a chance that would initiate a fight, and loathe as he was to admit it, Goro was somewhat out of practice when it came to Metaverse combat. He could fight very well, but it had been a while since he had to pull his punches. If they fought…there was really only one way that would end.

“That I’m alive?” Goro asked.

“That’s right,” Akira’s shadow said. “Some of them tell me that you’re trapped where I can’t reach you, some of them say you’ve moved to another country and changed your name, some of them say that you’re in a coma in some hospital…but they’re just cognitions. I don’t hold it against them –– they don’t know any better. I’m the only one who knows the truth.”

“Oh?” Goro asked. “And what’s that?”

Akira’s shadow grinned widely, almost triumphantly. 

“I killed Goro Akechi!” he declared. 

Goro blinked once. Twice. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Goro said.

“It’s the truth though!” Akira’s shadow said. “I let Akechi die not once, but twice! But, I did stop those guards from killing you, so third time’s the charm, right? If you were the real Akechi, that is. Which you aren’t.”

“Fine,” Goro said, rolling his eyes. “I’m a cognition. You still need to explain to me why you’d say something so asinine. On the boat…in Shido’s palace…I made that choice. You reached out to me, but I was the one who had to decide whether my life was worth living, to take the hand you were offering me. I chose instead to entrust you with my revenge, and made sure you got out safely. It was my choice. There was nothing else you could have done for me.”

“Oh, oh, I know this one!” Akira’s shadow said. “Let’s see…I could have noticed your cognitive double coming, I could have jumped forward and made it behind the wall, I could have incapacitated you in our battle and forcibly carried you out, I could have healed you with the one or two items I had left, I could have confronted you sooner about your plans to kill me, I could have been a better friend, I could have––”

“Who cares about all that!” Goro shouted, cutting off the stream of words flowing from Akira’s mouth. “What happened happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe I didn’t even have a choice in the matter,” the shadow mused, tilting his head and tapping his finger against his chin theatrically. “What was it you said that one time we were playing billiards together? When you line up a shot, you might aim towards one outcome, but end up striking many unrelated things in your path?”

“Yes,” Goro said tightly. “That’s the nature of the game.”

“And also the nature of this game,” Akira said. “You know that as well as I do.”

Goro’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t think of anything to say at that moment.

“See, I’m the hero,” Akira continued. “And Yaldabaoth decided you were gonna be the villain. It’s a very dangerous occupation in fiction, you know. The hero always needs to kill the villain. And you and I…we’re both just actors that were thrown onto this stage, forced to play out a script we didn’t even choose!”

“I did choose my path,” Goro stated firmly. “Don’t use such excuses to absolve me or yourself of all responsibility.”

“Oh, I would never!” Akira’s shadow said, putting on an affronted voice. “Besides, even if I thought about forgiving myself for not saving you, you always come by to remind me that I failed you.”

“ Are you fucking kidding ––you saved the entire world, if you happened to forget. Why the hell do you care so much about someone like––”

“I killed Yaldabaoth because he chose us for his game, cast us in his sick little play,” Akira said, his face suddenly dropping into something cold and dangerous. “I wanted revenge, for both of our sakes. That was when I broke free. I decided that I wouldn’t let someone else decide what I’d do and who I’d be allowed to save. But you want to know the funny thing about that?”

It was easy enough to gather Akira’s mindset from the state of the Jail and the birdcage. 

“What?” Goro asked blankly.

“Phhhfthahaha! Can’t you tell? I’m still here!” His smile was so crooked it looked as if it could hinge right off of his face. 

It seemed even after the game was over, after every beat of Yaldaboath’s little story had played out, Akira was unable to break free of the role forced upon him. If Lavenza was to be believed…the world was in danger again, and since Maruki hadn’t gotten his way, there were people all over the world longing for help, longing for a hero. That Akira should feel the need to shoulder that responsibility was only natural. 

“So, why are you stealing hearts again?”

“Who, me?” Akira’s shadow asked. He’d contorted his face into an expression Goro assumed an idiot would call “puppy-dog eyes”. He did not, however, find it cute or endearing.

“Do you not realize what you’re doing?” Goro hissed. “Don’t you understand that your actions aren’t as squeaky clean and virtuous as you like to pretend they are? Changing hearts is a sick thing to do, Akira, and while I certainly won’t mourn the minds of evil people who have forcibly experienced ego death, I cannot stand by and let you lobotomize the entire population in the name of what you call ‘heroism’.”

“Is that really how you see it?” Akira asked. “I can’t believe I dreamed up a Goro Akechi who thinks so little of me. Actually, wait…I can believe that. That look on your face…that contempt and disgust…that’s how you looked at me when you told me to kill you a second time. When I told you that your life wasn’t meaningless to me.”

“That is how I see it,” Goro said. “If you keep this up, you’ll distort the whole world just like Maruki did. You’re the cause of the very thing I was trying to prevent. The thing we fought against side by side!”

“I lost you again,” Akira said. “I would have given up the world for you if you’d asked me to, Akechi. Why…Why couldn’t you have just asked me to?”

“Akira, you’re being used.”

“I had to go back home after that,” Akira continued, undeterred. “And in between school, I’d just be alone in the middle of nowhere, tortured by the fact that I was even more powerless than before. I see you everywhere, Akechi. In every cup of coffee, every turn of a page in a worn book, every shift of a tie and hum of a jazz record. You’re haunting me. I suppose it’s your form of revenge.”

“Stop it,” Goro hissed. “ Stop talking .”

“But then…I was given a chance to help people again. EMMA spoke to me and gave me the power to change hearts quickly and effortlessly. I don’t have to worry anymore about not being strong or fast or brave enough, and I don’t have to lie awake at night wondering if there’s someone out there, suffering like you did, that I don’t have the power to save.”

EMMA? Goro thought. The artificial intelligence? The app I used to enter this place? Could that…software…be the malevolent deity that Lavenza had referred to?

“But with EMMA…I can save everyone who needs it. I spread my keyword through Tokyo when I came here for summer vacation, and every Desire I collect leads to dozens more! Every shadow who wanders in here leaves with the Desire to spread the keyword to those causing them harm, and once those with twisted Desires enter the Jail, I steal their hearts too. This way…I can finally save everyone, on my own. I can save them the way I wanted to save you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Goro barked, finally finally getting the shadow’s attention. “You’re ‘saving them the way you wanted to save me?’ So, you would have stolen my heart if you’d gotten the chance, huh? Turned the bastard teenage hitman into an inconsolable crying mess just like his father?”

“No!” Akira’s shadow protested. “I’d…never do that to you.”

“Why not?” Goro pressed. “If it’s so harmless, if it’s just the right thing to do, a way of saving people, then what’s the harm?”

Akira’s shadow took a step back, his eyes wide and suddenly clouded with conflict.

“You know that this is wrong,” Goro deduced. “But you’re trapped. Trapped by this cage…trapped by EMMA…and trapped by your own expectations for yourself. You’ve never let yourself question your actions because they’re driven by guilt. And if I know you like I’m sure I do, Akira Kurusu, you won’t let go of your guilt because you feel like you owe it to me. You feel like you owe the world salvation. Well, you don’t. And, in case you missed me saying it earlier: I’m. Not. Dead.”

“I’m not trapped,” Akira insisted, his words firm. Goro was nearly convinced he actually believed them. “I may be on the stage, playing hero, but I’m choosing to do it this time, because if I don’t, no-one else will. With this power…I can make a difference.”

“And what of your group of sycophants?” Goro pressed. “Do they endorse this? I couldn’t help but notice that they’ve left for a camping trip without you.”

“They don’t know,” Akira said dismissively. “And they don’t need to. They should just…enjoy their lives, let me do this on my own. I’ve already put them in enough danger. I can’t do that again. They've been camping for two weeks, and by the time they get back…I’d imagine I’ll get to about every heart in Tokyo at that point.”

“Someone will stop you,” Goro said, dropping his voice lower. If logic wasn’t going to work…then maybe fear would. Shadows were always more easily manipulated than their real-world counterparts. Goro had a feeling that if he could just get Akira to break free from his cage, he could make things right before it was too late. “Your Phantom Thieves are smart –– your little keyword cards strongly invoke the Phantom Thieves, and Sakura can trace the owner of the account easily.”

“EMMA obscured my account details,” Akira said simply. “I told her it was a fan account, something we’d investigate when we re-united. Of course…I’ll be out of Tokyo by then.”

“The police––”

“Oh, I changed their hearts long ago,” Akira said. “That was a bit personal. They really don’t how to treat a suspect in custody. Horrible manners, all of them. They sent someone from PubSec…Hasegawa-san, I believe. I changed his heart early on and he left me right alone, even spread the keyword around throughout the government for me. I assure you, Akechi. No one can stop me from saving people anymore.”

“Your mysterious benefactor, EMMA,” Goro said through his teeth. “Is a threat to everyone. Lavenza warned me that you were being used by a powerful entity. Do you really think that your actions are your own? That you haven’t been chosen for your impulsiveness and self-imposed moral blinders?”

“I can’t let the world down,” Akira said. “Even if EMMA thinks she’s using me, I can still do good with this power and––”

“Goddamnit, why won’t you just listen to me?” Goro roared. “Why are you being so stubborn? I’m trying to help you! And if you don’t let me, then…”

“Then what?” Akira’s shadow asked. There was an undeniable challenge in his eyes. That gaze…under any other circumstance, it would have lit a fire in Goro’s heart. That was Akira Kurusu, his rival. The memory of that devilish look was the only thing Goro had left to cling onto in his isolated state of living. Yet, now that he was seeing it again, it made him feel sick.

“Please…” Goro forced out. “Don’t make me do this again.”

“Do what again?”

Goro turned and saw that Sophia had approached him, and was standing at the lip of the stage, watching the argument with wide, curious eyes.

“Take those Desires back,” Goro said. “With force.”

“Now that’s interesting,” Akira’s shadow said. “Do you really think you can win?”

“I know I can,” Goro said. 

Sophia looked wildly between the two of them, cocking her head in confusion. Then, she looked up at the ceiling and pointed a single finger at the grand chandelier of the tiny pink jewels.

“Is that what you meant by a ‘treasure’?” she asked. “That collection of Desires is the core of this Jail. It is strange, though, that they have been given a physical shape.”

Goro grunted under his breath. That chandelier had been there since he’d woken up, and if what Sophia had said was true about those Desires working like a treasure, that meant that from the moment Akira’s shadow had laid eyes on Goro, he’d known what his rival was there to do. 

“You don’t want to fight me?” Akira’s shadow asked with a bright smile. “I thought we were rivals, mon chéri .”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

It was a far more honest thing than Goro had ever intended to say to Akira, even in imagined scenarios about reuniting with him. It was mortifying to admit that his feelings had changed that much, or that they were never that simple to begin with.

“Why not?”

Surprisingly enough, it was Sophia who had spoken. 

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you not want to kill the Monarch?” Sophia asked. “The Monarch is standing in the way of your objective: to destroy this Jail. To do that, you need the Desires. If the Monarch is removed, then you can reclaim those Desires. Thus, death is an acceptable outcome.”

Her logic was sound enough. It was that same simplistic logic which had driven Goro for many years of his life. But he had grown and changed, all because of the boy in front of him, the errant pool ball once again blocking the path to achieving an important goal. Once again, about to be crashed into and pushed aside. 

“I don’t want to have to kill you either,” Akira said simply.

“Then you do not have to,” Sophia said. “Perhaps we can find a way to make our goals align.”

“Stay out of this, Sophia,” Goro said.

“But I am humanity’s––”

“Sorry, whoever you are,” Akira’s shadow said, leaning down a little and smiling half-heartedly at Sophia. “But this is between me and him. The exit’s over there.”

Even as he spoke, Goro could feel the air around them tightening like a noose, the chandelier above them trembling and the ever-present slouch in Akira’s back straightening out. Giant mechanical wings unfolded themselves from somewhere on the shadow’s back, and he reached with one hand to pick up a sharp dagger that was sitting on his desk. 

Sophia didn’t say a word, but nodded and walked slowly towards the exit. Strangely, Goro caught her sparing one glance behind her, something he didn’t quite catch shifting behind her stagnant eyes. 

Goro drew his sword. 

For a long moment, neither of the boys moved, staring at each other, clearly waiting for someone to back down. But like any proper rivals, neither of them relented. Akira dove at Goro first, his shiny weapon reflecting the changing neon lights beyond the cage’s walls. Goro parried, dodging Akira’s blows and ignoring the many openings available to him. When he did swing, Akira blocked just as easily, a clear indication that they knew each other too well. It was a shame, really. In the privacy of his own mind, Goro often thought about how freeing, how exciting, how carnel it had felt to fight at Akira’s side. 

Fighting Akira was a rush all its own, a burst of adrenaline rushing through Goro’s veins with every swing, block, and blow. But it was an ugly, sour kind of rush. A familiar one. He’d felt it in a vision blurred with red, in a spell that loosened his puppet strings and turned his sense into animalistic bloodlust. Fighting Akira was a descent into madness. 

The fight lasted seconds. It lasted months. Akira’s shadow was eerily silent, never quipping, never laughing, never doing anything more than grunting in pain. It was as though he knew exactly what Goro was thinking, had already accepted his fate when he’d seen his shadow guards descend on Goro and demand he be brought to his quarters, unharmed and ready for another battle. 

At some point, Goro knocked Akira’s shadow down to the floor and pinned him there, grabbing a chunk of dark hair and yanking the shadow’s face closer to him. The shadow, suddenly losing all its bravado, blinked up at Goro with wide, terrified eyes. Goro could feel Akira’s warm body trembling against the cold floor of the Jail.

“Hereward.”

His persona erupted behind him in a flash. 

“ ...Call of…”

“You don’t want to do this, Akechi.”

Goro gripped Akira’s hair a little tighter, gritting his teeth to hold back an animalistic roar, a pure release of every explosive emotion he was barely keeping contained. 

“...this isn’t about what I want,” Goro said. Still, he found himself letting go of Akira’s hair, sitting back on his heels to look at him, to search for the boy he left behind in those sickly golden eyes. The boy who just wanted to save people, the boy who never gave up, the boy who made Goro feel human again. 

And he was there. 

“I know you’re the real Akechi,” Akira’s shadow admitted. “I…could tell from the moment I saw you that you were different. Something that came from my mind would never tell me to stop saving people…”

“Then stop,” Goro begged.

“I can’t,” Akira whispered. “Please, just leave me alone. Let me do this for you.”

“...I won’t watch you destroy yourself,” Goro said. “I won’t give anyone else the honor of destroying you.”

“I love you,” Akira insisted. “Please, Goro ––

Goro reached out his hand and grabbed hold of Akira’s consciousness, his hopes, his dreams, his fears. Akira’s soul and the chains that bound it sat there in his control, just for a moment. Goro couldn’t breathe, even though he tried to gasp for air. It was suffocating. It was overwhelmingly intimate. 

Let go. Let him go. Don’t do this, Goro’s heart cried. 

Goro clenched his hand tighter, closed his eyes. 

and twisted . 

Something shifted, and Akira’s consciousness fell from Goro’s control like a pile of slowly-falling sand sifting through his fingers. Akira's shadow stared right through Goro, his yellow eyes unfeeling, unmoving. Though the circumstances were different, Goro recognized that blank, piercing stare. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, framed by trickling crimson blood from a wound in the forehead.

Akira’s shadow flickered, then faded away. That was how it always went after inducing psychosis with that spell. The shadow would reform in time, but it would never quite be the same again. Akira would never quite be the same again. And Goro had the audacity to lecture Akira about his changes of heart.

For a long while, Goro couldn’t move an inch, as if standing still meant the world wouldn’t go on around him and he wouldn’t have to deal with thinking about the consequences of his actions. As if he could ever undo what he’d just done. From somewhere far above, the chandelier creaked loudly, then with a sharp snap it fell from the ceiling, smashing on the ground and spreading magenta light throughout the Jail, shattering every window, occupying every spare corner of the streets. And just like that, the spell was broken. 

Goro collapsed forward to the ground, dropped his sword, and let his head hang. And there, in the empty Jail, which was doused in little flickers of magenta that drifted elegantly away through the air, Goro Akechi cried.

He cried so hard he was screaming, clawing at the ground, the wall, his own throat. His body shook as though he were possessed, and even after he lost his voice he continued to wheeze, as if the volcano of rage inside of him would never return to a dormant state ever again. 

By the time Goro realized that the Jail wasn’t collapsing, he estimated that about an hour had passed. He’d been counting on the collapse to take him into its sweet, destructive embrace. The thought of returning to the real world made him sick. He didn’t want to know what Akira Kurusu had become by his hand. 

Some psychotic breakdowns were mercifully mundane affairs. A social faux pas, a public embarrassment, a misdemeanor. Some made people into serial murderers or drove them to their own demise. Even if Akira were lucky enough to suffer from a more mundane psychosis…with his record, any small incident could lead to his arrest and permanent imprisonment. His only rival would die like a lonely abused bird kept in a dark cage, who was too fucked in the head to sing anymore. 

Shooting Akira’s shadow in the head would have been merciful, but Goro wasn’t strong enough to grant him that. Goro Akechi was a twisted, selfish creature. 

“Crow?”

Goro heard footsteps approaching from behind, too light and too uniform to be human. Sophia stepped around him, then knelt down so that she was forced into his field of vision.

“The Jail has not been destroyed yet,” she said, as if that weren’t fucking obvious. “What should our next course of action be?”

Next course of action. What a joke. Goro had done what he’d been sent to do, and he’d done it flawlessly. He’d released the stolen Desires, had usurped EMMA as the one to bring Akira Kurusu to inevitable ruin. As for the fate of the world…he didn’t care what happened. It wasn’t as though it had ever done a single thing for him, and now that Akira…

Akira…

“What kind of companion are you?” Goro said, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable. Sophia blinked slowly, uncomprehending. “Hey,” Goro said. “I asked you a question.”

“I…” Sophia said. “I am Sophia. Humanity’s companion.”

A snort of a laugh traveled up Goro’s throat and was released to the wind. 

“A companion. For all of humanity?” Goro spat. “You really think you’re all that? Well, I think you’re fucking useless.”

Sophia’s face twitched, like she wanted to frown but lacked the ability to. 

“Why didn’t you help him, huh?” Goro yelled. “If you’re such a great fucking companion, then why didn’t you say the right thing? Why couldn’t you make him listen ?”

“I did my best,” Sophia said. “I…I did my best.”

It was becoming hard to see through an onslaught of tears. Goro fumbled for his gun and shot it above his head, finding temporary solace in the painful ring in his ears.

“Get the hell out of my sight,” Goro said to the AI. “Or I’ll kill you like I killed him.”

Sophia stumbled backward, nearly tripping on Akira’s discarded dagger. Then, she darted out of the room, leaving Goro in the numbing quiet again. In the back of Goro’s mind, he could almost hear the call of the Velvet Room, compelling him to seek out a door in reality and either be praised for a job well done or scolded for not being the sort of Wildcard Akira used to be, the one who had a heart big enough to rescue anyone from the depths of their despair or wildest of delusions.

Goro wasn’t that. He would never be that, and Akira Kurusu would never be that again.

Finally a hero , Goro thought humorlessly to himself as he shivered in the abandoned Jail. I’m finally a hero.