Prologue, Part 1: The Sunken Place

Note: The original concept for this fic started maybe six months ago. I originally posted a rough idea of the story, particularly since I inspired to write after finishing Persona 5 for the first time. Unfortunately, though, I couldn't really continue with my original draft for multiple reasons:

-Finishing graduate school

-Moving cross-country

-Starting work, trying to find some balance between that and my life

-Serious writer block

-Lastly, losing my original drafts/thinking they needed huge improvement

But as of late, I decided to give it another go again. Though, given how much I have in mind now vs. what I had before changed quite a bit, and just how much improvements I think could add to what I already have, I probably felt better starting over from scratch (P.S. I appreciate everyone that liked my original version). Can't promise a schedule for posting stuff, but I'll try to post whatever comes along. That, and be a bit open about what's going on my end.

(9/25: Also, considering the Kamoshida arc is finishing up real soon, I'm doing a polishing of what I have right now. Better transitions, fixing bad goofs like forgetting the verbs to a sentence (do'h). Stuff like that.)

4/9

Long train rides, whether you're on them or waiting for them, always have a way of reminding you of what you have lost.

Akira supposed he was the case example of the day.

Akira didn't want to imagine a moment like the one he was in right now. He would have just preferred a typical day.

For him, a "typical day" would be his dad waking him up with a swoosh of his covers and a straightforward, but courteous "Wake up please."

Prepping for school by grabbing some leftover natto from the fridge and preparing his bento box for the day.

Appreciating the sunrise for maybe twenty, thirty minutes while getting a whiff of oceanic salt from one the house's open windows.

Then, actually preparing for school by reading about Newton's Third Law in one hand and remembering chemistry tables in another.

Placing onigiri, his sister's favorite snack at the household altar to pay his respects.

Imbibing the smell of freshly brewed, pick-me-up coffee and letting his black, frizzy hair mop up the acidic stench.

Doing a math test, and passing without trying.

Coming after school to his dad's shop to tinker with spare inverters (under daddy dearest's nose) and exploding a few in the process.

Maybe beating his personal record on the Rubik Cube for the rest of the day; at least, until his dad forced him to do a training regimen since "Dad didn't raise no skinny cowards."

Those type of things.

But as his dad would also say:

Shit happens. Best you take it on the chin.

As he was waiting, before the morning breeze hit him, the cold blanketing him made his hands tremble. His whole body started to feel as if he were in the deep sea, with his arms and legs shackled to a sinking boat.

It was cold like that on the day too…

And unlike today, the welcoming of the sun and the ocean breeze would bring no solace to him.

And instead of regular school clothes, he would now wear for the year a uniform with the emblem of Shujin Academy (with red and black square patterned slacks to boot).

The irony of a school name like that didn't fall on deaf ears.

A faint trace of anger from his core started to reverberate into his arm.

"Enough," a man echoed out. Akira was taken aback by the sudden sensation of rough, calloused worker's hands from this phantom of his; enough to reel himself back together. He turned right, eyes wide open to the grey-haired, wizened man keeping him together (or at least, the digits on his hand, and his hand on his arm, and his arm on his body).

It was after clasping his wrist in turn that the shaking stopped. Akira slunk back to his resting face, bags forming under his eyes.

"Sorry," he responded.

"You know, for what it's worth, I failed too."

"Stop, dad!" Akira said suddenly. Talking in his current state wasn't easy for him; it felt as if he had more to say but the words were stuck, seized by his larynx and barely escaping into the night.

For a second, he doubted the words registered. But, it seemed the old man could hear just fine, despite his age.

The old man let go of his hand.

Akira then found his words coming more naturally, as he said, calmly while taking off a set of stylish, see-through glasses:

"I mean, just stop. The fault is mine, and so is the punishment."

"Tell that to the man sitting here."

"The last time I checked, I'm the one who has to leave."

"Yeah...because to you, the world revolves around you."

A long pause, and then:

"Maybe when this is all over, and the murmurs quiet down, you can come back here and maybe work in the shop for a bit. Full time. Maybe it will work out…"

"I don't see why uncle couldn't have been an option for the meantime."

He turned to stare grimly at Akira.

Great, Akira told himself.

"Because he would probably teach you how to squander everything you've been given and pray all day."

Then, a needed silence. It was only broken by the warbling around them.

An hour passed. The siren for Akira's new life came: a straight line towards Tokyo proper.

"I should get going back to the shop; you'll get your...stuff soon in the mail," his dad murmured. He started to walk back to his car.

As Akira boarded the train with his travel bag and the memories of this town on the back of his shoulders, his dad cried out:

"Hey; keep the glasses on. They make you seem more civil."

The train doors then shuttered behind Akira. He turned around to find his dad standing by his car, staring at him. It sounded like the silliest thing to ask someone to do; yet, something told Akira he could at least humor him. He put the glasses on in front of his dad. He then walked to the nearest seat and stared out the blurred landscape, only inviting in the ever creeping feeling of distance.

After a while, his eyes started to become heavy and he began to slip away…

But then, something peculiar happened. Akira, after blinking his eyes sleepily just once, saw the world around him darken and turn monochrome.

This alone shocked Akira out of his stupor.

He was now sitting in a dark, frigid room on a cold, metallic chair. His head was starting to form a dull sensation; a low, but persistent ringing was filling his ears, and his face and wrists were aching in pain. He noticed now the bruises all over his hands and the swollen outlines where something choked his wrists. There was a figure in front of him also sitting, though it was blending into the darkness around him. Its silhouette though was just noticeable enough to show the outline of a torso. This person was indeed a young adult female by the curve of her abdomen. He could hear over his muted hearing that she was attempting to say something, and from the pitch and force of the sound, she was starting to lose her patience.

Suddenly, a blue butterfly began to materialize to the right of him. It was translucent, shining like a diamond and flying effortlessly away, only to once again dissipate into the darkness. As it faded away, the woman in front of him completely faded into the dark as well, and the earnest, yet poised voice of a small girl called out to Akira from all around him. It said the following:

"You are held captive. A prisoner of fate to a future that has been sealed in advance. This is truly an unjust game. Your chances of winning are almost none…But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you…I beg you. Please overcome this game, and save the world…The key to victory lies within the memories of your bonds—the truth that you and the people closest to you grasped."

The disoriented Akira was about to yell into the black surrounding him to inquire who was speaking to him when a train siren began honking. A light began to envelop everything around him, getting even brighter with each toot…

He woke up to find that he was exiting a tunnel. An LCD screen alerted him that Shibuya station was the next stop. The black characters on the screen were starting to get their color again.

In Shibuya, where the buildings were bigger, it was cloudy. The only thing that light could do here was to cut through the sky in gossamer whiffs and through the wooden bars of Makoto Nijima's bedroom window and signal her to wake up and make breakfast for her sister before she had to leave for school.

The light revealed her hazel, almost crimson, eyes, and they were directed towards her loose pajamas and then to the clock. The time of 6:45 AM told Makoto that Sae would be home soon. She then dragged herself up from her small bed and to the closet in front of her.

Ahead of her was a small set of clothes: restrained white turtlenecks, and black leggings crammed with Shujin Academy-issued, black and red pleated skirts. Under those were her favorite pair of brown ankle boots and some black slip-ons reserved for days off. And lastly, to finish off her ensemble was her signature black halter vest.

She then set her attention to the smell of mothballs around her father's belongings, which were neatly folded into a cardboard box.

For her, an invitation to both happiness and sadness.

After freshening up, she went directly to the kitchen to make breakfast. Not much time before the train, so Sae's was first: fried rice and miso soup were on the menu. She even had a table for both of them to log in daily values for 30+ necessary nutrients. Though, as of late, Sae hadn't been around to fill these out. So, Makoto had to wing it with simple meals. Besides, she reckoned the sodium from the miso would make Sae's skin livelier.

An hour passed. The line to Aoyama-Itchome was coming soon, and she couldn't be late for her first day as a third year. Makoto started to get dressed for school, finishing up with a brown braided headband which always camouflaged itself as part of her hair.

As she was grabbing her brown leather bag to depart, her sister walked through the door.

It was quite a surprise. Her sister had been kept at the police station due to sudden instances of "psychotic breakdowns" as they called it.

In Tokyo, having one person breakdown from time to time was sadly not too common, given the stressful nature of the city.

But they were happening too often and to big-profile people.

And she knew a person like Sae is driven to anomalies, whether she liked it or not. It was the way their father taught how to approach the truth, and sadly, she didn't know any other way; searching for the truth lately wasn't doing wonders for her.

For all she knew, a ghostly wraith in the image of Sae had popped into her door instead of the actual one.

And yet, Makoto did what she thought she could do. "Sis!" Makoto said greeted with a smile. Makoto hoped the smile would add some life to Sae.

"Ah, Makoto.." Sae murmured. She attempted to respond back with a smile too, though it was a noticeably weak one. "Heading out for school, are you?" Sae then turned to the neatly placed arrangement of food for her at their glass dinner table.

"Miso?" Sae commented as she looked at her watch.

An alert on Sae's phone came up. Sae's eyes dimmed after a few seconds of reading.

"Look, Makoto. I should go back to work. A top Okumura Foods executive this time. I believe it's another "incident." I'll take a nap here; I'll put this stuff in the fridge in the meantime."

"You sure, Sis, about this being another shutdown?" Makoto replied.

Sae was never one for hesitation. Or naivete from her sister. "Of course I do" she replied curtly. "I could go more into the details of the crime scene, but that's police business. Just trust me when I say it's another one."

"Ok Sis...just don't forget to keep up your health, ok?" Makoto said quietly as she left Sae's apartment. A quick look at her wristwatch prompted her to rush quickly to Shibuya station.

After storing Makoto's show of conciliation into the fridge, Sae couldn't but collapse onto the living room couch. With the alarm set on her phone, she, in a matter of a few minutes, was fast asleep. But before she did, she uttered one thing from her mouth:

"What a mess you left me with, old man."

Awaiting him were torrents of people spilling out of train carts, people of different heights, different-colored clothing combinations, different hairs, different aftershaves, and different degrees of shoving Akira out of the way. To say this was sensory overload for Akira was an understatement; he would never have had situations like this back home. Often, the only chatter he usually would hear was that of seagulls overhead and car engines under the hood. Here, though, it was a forest of concrete, inundated with snaking rivers of people and cars. He couldn't help but stand still, paralyzed. The large TV screen mounted onto the skyscraper outside the station didn't help.

He attempted to bring himself back to reality by going to his phone. Before he opened his GPS to navigate to Yongen-Jaya, he noticed a weird app on his phone. It was a red, throbbing, square box of an eye. Out of curiosity, he pushed on the icon, only for it to expand on the screen.

Then, time stopped. Everyone, even the people in the middle of the road, froze. The muddled sounds became a deafening silence, one so intense that Akira was beginning to imagine a faint ringing in his ears.

Amid the frozen crowd, at the base of the TV skyscraper, a woman was crying out in front of him as a man was fondling her breast. "Please, help!".

The sky around him was dimming.

An entitled, drunk adult wearing orange glasses and a blue suit grunted in disgust. "Keep your mouth shut!"

That last line triggered an almost primal rage deep down in Akira, one that steadied his eyes and primed his muscles for rushing at something. Or someone.

This desire was so strong that Akira felt his right foot move forward.

Suddenly, a blue fire began to fill the distant background of where the TV skyscraper was. The people frozen in place were fuel, as one by one the fire engulfed them all, feeding off their presence. The fire became as tall as a skyscraper, and from the flames, a jack-o-lantern face formed and laughed maniacally. Akira wished he could have looked away from the inferno. But...he couldn't.

He took another step towards it. However, he quickly lost his balance. He lurched down towards the ground, feeling like he was falling through water. I must have tripped somehow, he thought. As he hit the ground, though, everything returned to normal.

Well, almost normal.

He now found himself surrounded by a group of bewildered pedestrians. He had fell face first on to the ground. Now turned over, he saw a brown-haired girl in a black halter vest looking over him.