04/01/2012, Kuoh Town, Afternoon
Makoto strolled through the quiet streets of Kuoh, the rhythmic bassline of his music pulsing in his ears.
The morning sun filtered through the canopy of the many trees adorning the streets of the town, casting dappled shadows on the pavement.
He paused by a small park, the faint scent of blooming flowers mingling with the crisp spring air.
Absently, he pulled out the wallet Elizabeth had given him, its leather smooth and cool against his fingers. A quick glance inside confirmed he was still well-funded, thanks to the spoils from his battles against shadows in Tartarus, and the crisp yen notes were neatly stacked alongside his brand-new identification papers.
As he tucked the wallet back into his pocket, his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar: a folded envelope, its edges slightly worn. Curious, he unfolded it, revealing a letter written in elegant, looping script.
'My most remarkable guest,' it began, the words carrying the faintest echo of Igor's high-pitched voice in his mind.
'First of all, my most sincere congratulations on your return from death. It is a feat only a handful can claim, and even fewer can really comprehend.'
Makoto's breath caught. He leaned against a nearby lamppost, the music in his ears fading into the background as he read on.
'With great disappointment and sorrow, I must inform you that I will not be able to guide you through this new journey. However, I have done what I can to ensure your path is not entirely untrodden. The documents within this wallet will grant you legitimacy in this world, and I have crafted a credible background for you with the assistance of my master Philemon. Though I cannot be by your side, remember this: the Velvet Room exists to aid its guests in their struggles. I have entrusted Elizabeth with its operation, but you, Makoto Yuki, are its master in this realm. Should you ever find yourself confused by its workings, do not hesitate to seek her guidance.'
The letter paused, as if Igor himself had been choosing his next words with care.
'I leave you with one final piece of advice: forge new bonds. Cherish the old ones, but do not let them chain you. They will always be your light in the darkness, the flame that burns within your heart. Best regards, Igor.'
Makoto stared at the letter, the weight of Igor's words settling over him like a familiar, comforting blanket. A warm smile appeared on his lips, despite the eccentricity of the long-nosed man he had almost considered a father figure.
He folded the paper carefully, tucking it back into the envelope, and slipped it into his pocket. For a moment, he stood still, the sounds of the city—birds chirping, distant chatter, the hum of traffic—filling the silence.
'Universe' came the deep, slow voice of Yatagarasu from Makoto's mind.
'I suggest you check the main plaza. I found a music shop you would surely like when I was scouting around,' said the divine bird.
'A music shop? Sure, let's go there then,' decided Makoto, starting to walk toward the shop direction.
The cherry blossoms lining Kuoh Academy's pathways drifted lazily in the spring breeze, their petals catching sunlight like flecks of pink silk.
'Now that I think about it... I never actually finished high school,' realized Makoto.
Makoto paused at the school gates, his gaze lingering on the polished brass sign [Kuoh Academy] as Ryoji materialized beside him in a swirl of shadow and darkness.
The embodiment of Death leaned against the gate, his grin playful beneath his yellow scarf.
"I'd love to go back to school with you," Ryoji chirped, his voice bright against the murmur of rustling leaves.
Makoto shot him a sidelong glance. "You shouldn't just pop out like that. What if someone sees?"
Ryoji waved a dismissive hand, already tugging Makoto toward the entrance. "Relax! It's April—a fresh new year starts, new uniforms! You've spent two years fighting Erebus and sealing Mother. Don't you think you've earned a little normalcy?"
Makoto hesitated, his eyes narrowing. "We have a mission, Ryoji. We can't lose focus."
"And missions go smoother with friends," Ryoji countered, his tone softening. He stepped closer, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something earnest. "You taught me that, remember? When you faced Nyx… you lived, Makoto. Even then, you resisted until the moment you desired. Don't stop now."
Makoto's resolve wavered. With a resigned sigh, he allowed Ryoji to drag him through the gates, their footsteps crunching on gravel paths flanked by manicured hedges.
The faculty office smelled of aged paper and lemon polish. Behind a cluttered desk sat a middle-aged teacher, her glasses perched precariously on her nose as she conversed with a striking young woman.
Tsubaki Shinra, vice-president of Kuoh Academy's Student Council, stood with effortless poise, her knee-length black hair cascading like spilled ink down her back. Her heterochromatic eyes—one violet as twilight, the other warm amber—flicked toward the newcomers, sharp yet welcoming behind rectangular frames.
"Good morning," Ryoji announced, flashing a disarming smile. "We're new in town and hoping to enroll. I'm Ryoji Mochizuki, and this is Makoto Yuki."
The teacher frowned. "Enrollment closed in March, but…"
Tsubaki stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "Exceptions can be made for transfers, teacher. And besides, the term hasn't officially begun."
She turned to the boys, her mismatched eyes lingering on Makoto. "I'm Tsubaki Shinra, vice-president of the Student Council. Welcome to Kuoh Town."
Ryoji beamed; Makoto nodded curtly. After a brief negotiation with the principal—a stern man with a surprisingly soft spot for 'promising youths'—they exited the office, uniforms secured.
"Mission accomplished!" Ryoji vanished in a curl of shadows, leaving Makoto alone in the hallway.
'He will never learn, huh?' thought Makoto.
'Death is Death,' commented Orpheus Telos.
As Makoto turned to leave, he spotted Tsubaki near the courtyard, flanked by two anxious students.
"But the Music Club can't disband!" protested a girl with twin braids. "We've been here since first year!"
Tsubaki adjusted her glasses, her violet eye glinting with regret. "Without a third-year member to lead, school clubs can't be accepted. Rules are rules and can't be changed. I'm sorry."
Makoto approached, hands tucked in his pockets. "Yuki," Tsubaki acknowledged, her amber eye softening. "Everything settled?"
"Yes. What's this about the Music Club?" he asked, curious.
Tsubaki sighed. "No third-years joined this year. Without leadership, it can't operate." Her gaze sharpened, analytical. "Unless… you're interested?"
Makoto hesitated, then shrugged. "I think so. I would have probably joined anyway."
Tsubaki's lips curved into a small, grateful smile—almost like an annoying weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Visit the Student Council tomorrow, so we can settle all the bureaucratic matters. We'll handle the paperwork."
With a nod from Makoto and deep bows of thankfulness from the other two Music Club students, Tsubaki and Makoto departed.
The Student Council room exuded quiet authority, its walls lined with bookshelves and a large tactical board showing a map of the school dotted with colored pins.
Tsubaki entered just as the air rippled—a teleportation circle flared to life in hues of cerulean, revealing the magic crest of the Noble Devil House of Sitri.
Sona Sitri stepped through, her presence commanding despite her petite frame. Her black bob-cut hair framed a face of porcelain precision, violet eyes sharp behind silver-rimmed glasses. She wore a tailored navy dress, its collar high and lace-trimmed, exuding regal austerity.
"Welcome back, President," Tsubaki said, bowing slightly. "How was your meeting with Lord Sitri?"
Sona sank into an armchair, her posture flawless, but a sigh escaped her lips. "Father worries needlessly. The Old Satan Faction's posturing won't disrupt the operations of the Underworld, yet he was so adamant about calling a meeting with all the allied Houses and asked me to attend too."
She steepled her fingers, her gaze piercing. "Any updates?"
"The Music Club may yet survive. A new third-year, Makoto Yuki, has agreed to join."
Sona's brow arched. "Competent?"
"Reserved, but… determined. He'll be visiting tomorrow."
"Good." Sona stood, her movements deliberate. "Let's ensure he feels welcome."
———
The Kuoh Mall thrummed with the vibrant chaos of midday shoppers—an orchestra of chatter, clattering hangers, and the faint hum of escalators.
Elizabeth weaved through the crowd with the grace of a dancer, her velvet-blue dress drawing curious glances that she either didn't notice or elegantly ignored.
Neon store signs bathed the polished floors in kaleidoscopic hues, their reflections rippling across her gloves as she paused outside boutiques, tilting her head at mannequins draped in lace, leather, and denim.
'Mundane,' she thought. 'But thrillingly so.'
For the first time in centuries, she was unshackled from the Velvet Room's timeless space, free to savor the mortal rhythm of seasons and sales.
She glided into a boutique labeled La Lumière, fingertips brushing racks of silk blouses and wool coats.
A saleswoman approached, but Elizabeth merely smiled, her golden eyes lingering on a sequined gown. "Too garish," she murmured, though her tone was wistful.
In the next store, she held a pleated skirt against her waist, studying her reflection. "Ah, but my attire is perfection. How unfortunate."
She sighed, louder than intended, drawing puzzled stares from a cluster of teenagers nearby. One whispered, "Cosplay?" as Elizabeth strode out, chin lifted.
By the fifth store, her initial zeal waned. The clothes blurred into monotony—stripes, polka dots, athleisure.
"Perhaps I require assistance," she mused aloud near a perfume kiosk, where a clerk spritzed samples into the air. "Makoto possesses a keen eye. Yes, we shall embark on a shopping expedition together!"
Her declaration echoed, turning heads. A toddler pointed, and his mother hurried him away.
A deep, resonant bong reverberated through the mall. Elizabeth startled, clutching her hat as if it might fly off. Above, an ornate clocktower loomed, its brass hands stark against the fading daylight.
"Six o'clock?" She gaped, though time's passage still felt abstract, like sand slipping through an hourglass she'd never held. "I must return, mankind values time like gold even though they often waste it."
Outside, dusk painted Kuoh in gradients of amber and indigo. Streetlamps flickered on, their glow pooling on the sidewalk as Elizabeth walked.
A sudden gust snatched her hat, and she lunged for it, only to freeze—caught by her curiosity. Drifting toward her, carried by the wind like a leaf, was a crimson flyer. It glinted unnaturally, as though dipped in a strange substance. She caught it midair.
'Make a wish,' it read in gilded cursive, 'and it shall be granted by a devil.'
Elizabeth tilted her head, the crimson flyer catching the fading light of dusk.
'A devil? How curious.' Her golden eyes narrowed as she studied the gilded text, her gloved fingers tracing the twisted crest at the bottom.
"This is precisely what I needed," she murmured, her voice carrying a note of intrigue. "But how does it function?"
She flipped the flyer over, searching for instructions, but the back was blank. "Perhaps it requires a catalyst," she mused, her tone thoughtful.
With a flourish, she summoned the Persona Compendium into her hands, its pages glowing faintly with arcane energy. She flipped it open, her fingers poised to summon a Persona, when a voice cut through the quiet street.
"Elizabeth, what are you doing?"
Makoto strode toward her, his expression a mix of concern and exasperation. His blue hair caught the light of a nearby streetlamp, and his SEES uniform stood out against the deepening twilight.
Elizabeth looked up, her compendium snapping shut with a soft thud.
"Don't worry, Makoto," she said, her smile disarmingly bright. "I was merely… experimenting."
She tucked the flyer between the pages of the compendium, her movements deliberate.
Makoto opened his mouth to argue, but Elizabeth interrupted, holding out a small, neatly wrapped box tied with a silver ribbon.
"I bought something I thought you might like," she said, her tone shifting to one of quiet pride.
Makoto hesitated for a second, confused by Elizabeth's behavior, then took the box, unwrapping it with careful precision.
Inside laid a sleek, modern MP3 player, its surface polished to a mirror shine. He turned it over in his hands, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Thank you, Liz. I really like it."
Elizabeth beamed, clasping her hands together. "I asked the merchant to preload it with numerous songs. I thought it might help you relax during your days."
Makoto nodded, already fiddling with the device, his earlier concern momentarily forgotten. The two fell into step as they walked, the evening air cool and crisp. Elizabeth launched into a vivid recount of her day, her gestures animated.
"I visited every boutique in the mall," she declared, her voice rising with theatrical flair. "But nothing compared to my current attire. It's perfection, Makoto. How could I possibly replace it?" She sighed dramatically, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Makoto chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You don't have to replace it. Maybe just… I don't know... accessorize? Yukari told me something about that one time..."
"Oh, what a precious insight given by The Lovers," Elizabeth said, nodding amenable. "I might already know what to do, then."