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What can the scenes be about? Will they be canon scenes?

Answer: Yes, these should be scenes or interactions considered canon to your character and any characters within. Therefore, if you wish to include other people's characters, you should ask them if that is okay, first.

Who can I use for my story?

Answer: Anybody in the Guild, or related to your character's history. Though if a character does not yet exist in the Guild, you may need to provide an explanation as to who the new person is you're including in your story. If you wish to use someone else's new characters or old, you should ask them ahead of time. This is encouraged.

How long do they have to be?

Answer: As long as you feel is required to translate the message, the theme, or the story that you feel is worth telling. I won't be picky if it's interesting.

What are these fantabulous Bonuses?

Answer: A bonus skill to start with on your Persona, a starter equipment picked up from the first (past) Palace the team entered. Bonuses may differ upon second and third entries.

What can't I do?

Answer: No songs, poems, or other lyric parodies unless they are of the Epic variety. These should be stories, scenes, things that happen...not Yuno singing about how she wants food for Christmas. I'm looking at you, Rednal...



So get cracking! This forum begins accepting submissions now, and will end whenever the @#$# I say it does! Which could be on GUILDIVERSARY2017...or a week after...or a week after that. But probably not that long...so get on your horse!

Submission Title: The Shape of Things to Come...
Characters: Usaji Azai and Mariko Matsudaira


How did one manage to capture a spirit in a frame?

Since the very beginnings of art the question had loomed large in the minds and hearts of those inspired individuals who did their best to capture in a short span and a limited space a single image that could put into being the very music of their souls. When all the letters of the alphabet and the words in the dictionary failed to expression what you felt with all of your being, how then could you translate that into colors, shapes, still-frame pictures that someone without your mind could connect to? How did you convey love from one heart to another with only a set of paints, a brush, and a canvas to bear it all? These...were the thoughts of more serious artists than Usaji Azai, however; at least they were on most days. His was a whimsical heart that took immense pleasure in pursuing flights of fancy, whether with the brush and paint or the block of clay and the shaping thereof, or even the playing of an instrument and the sound of a few smooth notes strung together in tune. And rarely did he allow himself to be weighed down by the technical aspects of it, by the theory behind the strokes he laid upon his canvas (be it paper or the side of the Protein Lovers' Gym), or by any hesitation once a fancy had truly taken root within him.

Today, however, was different. Most things he painted were a reflection of his own heart, and that was unguarded, though he had often taken damage to his ego and his spirit when those thoughts he laid bare were trampled upon by those who did not understand them. Those were hurts that he could take willingly for the freedom of expression. This was something else entirely. And the reason for that hesitation was staring him down uneasily from her place against the front desk of the No-Love Hotel, in front rather than her usual perch behind it. Clad in a light spring sundress with an uneasy, yet gentle expression curling the corner of her lips, she glanced across the lobby at the artist attempting in his youthful energy to capture her in-time, or at least, the reflection of her within his own heart. And therein, she did not know, was the source of the hesitation that she espied within him. Her eyebrow raised in curiosity as his brush lowered back to the palette and his usually-carefree brow creased subconsciously. Honestly, if he kept her waiting much longer she was going to crack. And if he couldn't grasp the feeling within his heart as he studied her form he was going to burst in frustration.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and it was weird for them. When his brush head fiddled and streaked a goldenrod yellow into his thick glob of forest green, however, the hotel owner knew that she'd had enough.

"Hey, Earth to Saji? I only agreed to let you paint me because you asked for it," she reminded him with a small measure of exasperation, though the rebuke in her tone was gentle despite the discomfort she felt about the whole situation. Her lips curled into a slight smile regardless and she took note of the way that the breath finally seemed to escape him when she spoke and the uneasy smile that broke out across his boyishly beautiful lips. Hesitation didn't become him. And waiting around idle like this didn't really suit her much, either. She knew it was too early for any of her usual guests to show up, but that didn't mean that she had nothing to do behind her desk in the meantime. This was time out of her day, and it was not always this freely given. Had it been anyone else doing the asking, there wouldn't have been a chance. But the boy she sometimes thought of as a white rabbit that wandered into her neighborhood one day and never left was an exception. For him, and him alone, she maintained her patience. "If you're not going to get started again..."

"N-no! I am working, Miss Mariko, don't move!" he felt his cheeks grow a little hot at the realization that he was inconveniencing her, and that in and of itself was even stranger for him. Why was he so aware of her right now? Why did he care if she liked the work that he was doing when he almost always performed his craft for little more than his own self-expression? Why did he worry that she was annoyed with him for taking her out from behind her desk for this portrait, that she would rather be in something less revealing than the sundress as he poured over every inch of her with his eyes and brush? Why did he notice the patience in her smile and the softness of the strands of her hair? Why did he suddenly care about the scar upon her chest and feel a pang of white hot anger and sympathy at the sight of it? Why did just trying to capture the feelings of the woman who had protected him that day from the overeager frustration of the police, given him a quiet place to work, and a companion...however obnoxious he must have been to her...in times when there was nobody that he could talk to or trust beyond her doors? Why did he feel so self-conscious taking out that part of his heart in which she currently resided and placing it upon a page for she and everyone else who looked upon his work to see? There was nothing that he had to hide. Nothing at all. And yet...

She shifted and smirked in spite of herself. He was so clearly not working right now, but she knew that he would come around eventually. Whatever was bothering him would pass, and just like always, he would be back at work before she knew it. You could hardly pin him down, that Saji...always hard at work on this project or the next...it was one of the things that she had come to admire about him. Some people looked at the way he flitted from one inspiration to the next, one project to the next, and they called him unfocused and lazy. She saw someone who never stopped working...someone with passion, drive, and an uncommon sense of who he was that was all too rare in a person his age. She had a feeling that somehow, if the world didn't find a way to crush him before he could spread his wings, Usaji Azai was going to be somebody special. She could feel that, because since he had begun to frequent her hotel, taking her up on a somewhat half-serious offer of a place to do his work (and keep her company on days when she had no traffic at all to her hole-in-the-wall hotel), he had become almost...

"That's it! Don't move!" his voice broke through her reverie as he smiled suddenly, his brush quickly flitting across the canvas with a speed that betrayed a fear of losing the image that had inspired him. "That smile..." he muttered to himself airily, glancing up at her and wondering if it was his imagination that her cheeks had taken on a little extra color under the intensity of his gaze, "Miss Mariko, just keep thinking about whatever it is that's on your mind right now. Try not to lose that feeling..." He urged her, but his intentions were undone by those very same words, the realization within her of just whom had inspired the look that so enraptured him right now made her shift uncomfortably and look away for a moment as if perceiving something just then that she wasn't quite ready to give to voice. He noticed her hesitation, but he did not understand it. Pausing his brush's movements as his sudden joy ebbed, he drew back for a moment...an imperceptible barrier that had, perhaps, always been there making itself known as self-consciousness threatened to invade his moment of artistic joy. The indifference of his foster parents drifted through his mind, as did the rebuke of his teachers for his lack of focus. Had he stepped on some kind of landmine with Miss Mariko as well that he hadn't been aware of?

"...I'm sorry, Miss Mari-" his uncertain apology was cut off almost immediately by the sound of a voice both sharp and gentle, the eyes of the older woman watching him out of their corners, making him fumble again in a way that only seemed capable of inflicting upon him.

"Why are you stopping? And what exactly are you apologizing for? ...I volunteered for this, didn't I?" she reassured him, trying her best not to look uncomfortable as she readjusted and tried (somewhat sadly, he would note with a measure of amusement) to recapture the peaceful smile that he had been so excited over just a few moments earlier. She knew it wasn't quite what he was looking for, and she had seen him start to pull away as he often did a few moments earlier...but she was doing her best to let him know that it was all right. She might have been uncomfortable being painted...especially her scar...but she was making an effort here. And to meet her expectations, he seemed to notice...and again lifted his brush to return to his work. But even as he did, his eyes were upon her and she felt them more acutely than ever, shifting faintly but doing her best to give him the expression and stillness that he needed. He made a mental note not to tell her how difficult it seemed for her, and how challenging that made her as a model. She was trying, at least, right?

Still, even as he worked, there was something that lingered in the back of his mind...a growing question, that somehow felt vital...not just to the feeling of the painting, but between the two of them as well. It might not have been the best time, but he found a bit of his usual open courage and began to speak before he knew what was coming. Their eyes met as he did, and though she misunderstood him in a way that caught her off-guard, she did her best not to shy away from the unspoken question that he hadn't asked.

"...I would like to ask you something, if it's not too much trouble?" He began, and she answered immediately.

"About the scar, right?" she guessed, inaccurately...her expression was gentle and unreadable, but he sensed the bitterness and did not interrupt when she began to speak again, "...Doesn't matter now. The guy who put them up to it is in prison now. You probably remember him from the news...that Kaneshiro?" Oh, he knew the one. That grimy pig-man the Phantom Thieves had busted on the news back in July? Everybody in Tokyo knew about that. So he had been the one behind the efforts to force her out of No-Love? Did that mean they were going to stop? He wondered, but he remembered his question just then and that it hadn't been answered yet. She looked away as if remembering something uncomfortable, and he was thankful for the chance to pull her out of that thought.

"No...not that," the teen assured her, and in the same breath assured her that he didn't intend to press her for more details unless she was ready to tell him, "It was about...the night we met, up the road? I just wanted to know..." He seemed uncertain, and she sensed his nerves. Standing at last from her perch against the desk, she made her way over to the white-haired boy and set her long fingers down upon his unruly mop, rustling it gently as she looked over his shoulder at the outline of his work. And to her surprise (and unaware of his surprised blush) she saw that this was...much different from any of his old works, the strange shapes and caricatures that he was known for. This was...just a regular portrait, gentle and honest...and it was beautiful. She felt her heart swim within her chest for a moment, and her lips curled into a smile. This kid...always surprising her.

"Who knows? It's ancient history now," she quipped as she glanced down at his face, catching sight of the pink at last and smirking a little at how unusually easy it seemed to fluster the airheaded artist today, "Maybe I just couldn't leave you to those two uniformed hyenas, looking like some kind of confused puppy like that. Or maybe I just needed someone to liven this place up a bit. Who can say?" The answer was meant as a tease and not to satisfy, and his expression told her it had the desired effect. Moving behind the desk, she pulled a bottle of water from beneath the top and took a drink as he seemed to contemplate what to do next. But it was in that moment that he looked towards the window of the lobby and saw the sun beam through the glass with its final rays of the daytime. And as much as he wanted to stick around and work a bit longer, the lighting would be all wrong...and he there was another project downtown in Shibuya that he had promised himself he'd start on, tonight. And so it was time for him to go, but even as he started to stand she beat him to the punch once again, reminding him as always how hopelessly outmatched he seemed to be against this woman...even when he wasn't sure they were pitted into a contest at all. "Go on, it's late," she urged him, though there was no real pressure or malice in her tone as she did. He could have stayed the night just as easy tonight if he liked, the room she often lent him almost certain to be left empty again tonight with all that was going on downtown. Saji nodded, taking one last look at his portrait and smiling faintly before he set it into the corner of the room and left it in the spot he often left his things when she was feeling lenient enough to let him. Gathering his supplies, the two began to work silently...she settling back in behind the desk and he in preparing to leave...until at last his feet carried him past the front desk towards the front door, his hand settling upon the lever when she called out to him one last time, capturing his attention entirely before he could escape for the night.

"Hey, Saji...you saw the news, right? That announcement about that candidate for Prime Minister by them? Sounds like things are going to get pretty dangerous downtown tonight," she warned him, a genuine expression of concern creasing her beautiful expression as she watched him prepare to go, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do...all right?' It was weak counsel, she felt, and something in the pit of her stomach began to seriously forebode letting him walk out that door, however silly the impulse might seem. She pushed it aside. There was nothing to worry about, right? And yet his smile, carefree again and unreadable as ever that was meant to assuage her concerns only made her all the more uneasy. He didn't seem to notice.

"Are you worried about me?" he smiled, disarmingly innocent and as gentle as ever. In spite of herself, Mariko smiled in return...that honest, refreshing smile...the one that he wanted to capture in that moment on the canvas of his art and preserve for all the world to see, "Good night, Miss Mariko."

And with the faint jingle of the door's bell, the boy was gone into the Shibuya night. Outside she could hear the voices of people talking in raised voices about the broadcast on the televisions earlier, and she felt that uneasiness settle inside of her. Nonetheless, this time, she wouldn't be there if things went awry for him. She hoped, against the ill-tide of fate, that nothing would happen that put that boy in jeopardy.

"Good night, kid. Get back here safe tomorrow, all right?"

Submission Title: Stealing Home
Characters: Usaji Azai


There were no words that could adequately describe this world. He found it hard to imagine, even with his artist's brain, that he could ever find a way via words or paints or even song to express the disgusting mixture of distortion, ugliness, desire, and beauty that they had already witnessed since entering this...unusual place. In fact, words already failed...unusual didn't even come close. It was a poor adjective for the absolute insanity that was reflected within this place. Sickening, macabre, selfish, dark...it was all of them at once and yet none exactly fit the scene. How did you describe a place born from the twisted desires of a man, a police station that had given way to an estate straight out of the works of Bram Stoker? One filled with creatures that defied explanation and imagination...all of which had turned their attention upon you with the intent to kill? For all of the creative energy within him, Usaji Azai couldn't manage it. For once, he was little more than an observer, a passenger on a ride through the inexplicable without even the wits to piece together inspiration.

And indeed, 'passenger' was the right word to describe him right now. Yet the word itself was a dagger that pierced his chest and wrought within him an uneasy pain that lingered, even as they progressed closer and closer to what they believed (or hoped) would be their goal and an escape from this living nightmare. 'Passenger', after all, implied little more than being along for the ride, and that was indeed the case in him. From the moment they had arrived within the officer's distorted world, met with his self-righteous self...the 'Vagrant Hunter' as he seemed to fancy himself...and the world itself had turned against them, his new friends met back in the cell before everything was turned upside down had fought back against the tide of shadow and dark. It was there in the first corridors of the manse that they all would have met their end, without ever truly having an idea what it was that they had wrapped themselves up within, that he had awakened...the largest of their group and the quietest, and yet it was borne within him some great potential he could sense. It emerged in the form of something that whispered into the night air the word 'persona', and as their 'leader' tore away the mask bound to his flesh that had appeared out of nowhere, it unleashed a terrible energy upon the shadows that surrounded them. And with a splatter of black that sizzled against the white corridor halls, they were no more.

But at the second awakening it had been his own fault that peril had surrounded them...the great stair in the overture of the main mansion's Great Hall so picturesque that he had found himself rushing forward towards it without thinking. His aesthetic mind had overruled his good sense and he framed up a snapshot to store in his imagination for their return home, but in moving ahead he had become separated...and the devil that descended from the chandelier knocked him roughly to the floor, leaving him struggling slowly back to his feet in a haze and at a distance from his friends. He couldn't recall all of the details of the second awakening, his eyes blurred by a thin line of blood in the corner of his eyes and the haze induced by the concussion of the blow, but he knew in the aftermath that it had been Chell that saved them. He, too, now bore the raiment of rebellion together with their leader, and with the pride and catharsis that seemed to flow through him, there was also a spirit that did not go unnoticed. Saji thanked him, and Chell acknowledged it in his usual, easy way. But that sense of debt and gratitude did not abate...and a seed of helplessness began to grow inside of him.

They were nearly halfway through the Palace and just completing a strange puzzle in the Grand Library of the darkened estate when the next ambush came, although this time it was again the 'Vagrant Hunter' himself...the twisted version of Officer Ogasawara that appeared to them...and as he eviscerated their spirits and called into question the justice in their quest, he felt himself beginning to sink under the barrage. The officer was familiar with him, perhaps more so with the others, as this wasn't the first time that they had crossed paths...only Miss Mariko's mercy having spared him from a night like tonight back then...and he knew exactly which buttons to push to inflict damage upon his spirit. But he underestimated them...and Shiori in particular, he thought little more than eye candy to be toyed with. That left him hot, but what it did to her was something far more troublesome for the selfish adult that harassed them. And when she awoke, she became the third among their quartet to discover the true self within her, that rebellious spirit given form to fight back against their enemies. She made the shadows pay with a flourish that was worthy of depiction within his art...but he had no heart to do so.

By the time they began their ascent up the stairs through the annexes that rose up the side of the mountain towards the final destination within the 'Castle of the Beast', two things were beginning to become clear. The first was that all of this was no dream, no nightmare, and that their very lives were at stake here in this place, wherever and whatever it was...and the second was that among their team that was growing all the more strong, he was the load that they bore...a hopeless, dead weight albatross around their neck. The officer, for all of his lies and his exaggerations, had been right about one thing alone...that among this group, he alone did not yet belong. He, alone, could not fight back against the shadows...and it was his spirit quailing rather than growing bold and powerful, dragging each of them down. Again, among a group of those who would be his friends, he found himself alone...isolated. It mattered not how much potential may have lain within him, nor did it matter how badly he wished to do what they could do. And his mind began to sink deeper into the distortion that surrounded them...

Idly, in the flight of stairs that lead to the first of the rising annex buildings, his mind began to wander as it questioned why he was here. Should he have stayed back at No-Love and courted whatever trouble would find him back to the home of the one person who had the misfortune before tonight of placing their trust in him? Miss Mariko deserved better than to keep a trouble magnet like him around, didn't she? And she had already reached out to him once before...but who was to say that he wouldn't upset her? That she wouldn't abandon him when he proved too much of a burden to keep around? He knew that she wouldn't think like that, but in his heart...a heart quietly damaged by a lifetime of abandonment and isolation, of half-smiles and suppressed wishes...he felt his certainty of that fact waver. But even accepting that, believing that leaving the hotel was the right thing to do tonight, he still found himself the odd man out among the current group trying to escape this strange purgatory...and soon enough, would they not come to the realization that he was dead weight? Would they not abandon him when they did so, to improve their own chances for survival? Who needed to weight themselves down with a wayward artist with no focus, a waning spirit, who hadn't even the ability to defend himself or stand up for his friends?

He was meant to be alone. And his friends, the people who would care about him, they deserved better than him, didn't they? He had no right to friends...he had no right to family. He had no home. No place to really call his home. He was...

"Hopeless," a voice whispered in his ear, traitorous in the dark...but the voice was not his own, instead belonging to him, their captor and tormentor...it whispered and they all seemed to hearken to his voice though they knew not from where it came, "Useless, aimless...a waste of potential. A waste of life. Unloved and unwanted, and unworthy of the privilege of either. That is who you are, Usaji Azai." The words were incredibly sharp, and they bit deep within his breast as he recoiled visibly under the verbal attack. His friends tried to comfort him, to say something, but he could scarcely hear them over the drumming of his own heartbeat within his ears. This was...the truth about who he was, wasn't it? An unloved, forgotten son...a wayward artist with no future...he was just a street rat, a criminal. Who would want him if he reached out to touch them? Who would accept him if they knew the truth about the type of person that he had become? If his own family didn't want him...if society didn't want him...if...if even Miss Mariko were to abandon him...then who? Who would he have left other than himself?

...His blue eyes glistened and he seemed to shrink where he stood, even as his friends took their places around him defensively and the object of their displeasure appeared at last before them in a cloud of smoke, he did not heed them. This time, the hunter had identified the group's weakness, and he made sure the stake he drove home went straight into the young man's heart. He smirked cruelly as he slowly withdrew a blade and aimed his crossbow at the quartet before him. Saji tried to raise his voice to warn the others, to step to the front and do whatever he could to fight back, but strength and words failed him...he flailed, stumbled to his knee...and even as he let out a cry, strangled but something at long last...the bolts flew. And quicker than the feet of men, they found their mark. Knocked violently to the floor, the trio defending him were driven to their knees all about him...and as they struggled back to their feet, another arrow rain pierced their defenses and drove them to hunch even further over. Blood flooded into his ears and he could hear nothing as he watched the horror play out before him...and with his vivid imagination suddenly returned to him in terrible immediacy, he could see into the future and envision with gruesome detail what would become of them if he didn't act...and do something...anything!

"...Sa...ji..." a voice spoke to him, he looked with glazed eyes to the front of him and saw looking over his shoulder their leader, struggling to his feet...arms outstretched to shield him yet again, "...run...escape now!"

He took one step backwards...his legs were like lead, and yet every instinct told him to do just that and flee!

"b*****d...! ******** your goddamn insides...out!" Chell struggled mightily, crawling back to his knees but little more. And their tormentor laughed.

"Don't you see? These friends of yours have failed. Just like everyone who was ever supposed to care about you, they'll die...and abandon you just like your parents," he cackled cruelly, not caring how ugly and twisted his expression made him look, 'Oh! You should listen to your big friends, here...and abandon them. Abandon them, just like everybody abandons you. Isn't turnabout fair play, after all? Nobody will ever love you...so why should you give a damn what happens to them, hm?"

"That's not...!" His voice was cut off by a growl, a feminine voice straining against pain as she rose slowly to her feet one more time...

"Shut up...! We are not...like you," she snarled at the perverted hunter who had locked her in here as well as the others, "We won't...listen to someone like you...and we'll stick...together. Right...Sa...ji?" Shiori's valiant struggle finally brought her to her feet...but just as the others joined her, one more rain of bolts from the hunter's crossbrow brought the trio around Saji to their knees one more time. This time, for certain, it was the end...

And there was nothing in the world that he could do about it.

Nothing.

'Nothing...?'

Nothing...?

'No...not nothing...'

Not...nothing? He could do...something?

"Last chance, Wayward Artist of Shibuya. What's it gonna be?" the Hunter taunted, raising his crossbow again slowly for what would surely be the killshot, "Not that you're likely to get away anyway, but I'll give you a sporting head start if you go right now. ...So run. Abandon them..."

'I can do...something...!'

"Saji...ngh!"

"Get...outta here, dammit!"

"Save yourself."

...



"...As if I could..." he growled lowly, his fingers clenching so hard into his palms that blood trickled from his grip and splattered upon the ground below...the pain stung so sharply that tears came to the corners of his eyes, but the heat that burned within him began to burst forth in flames, evaporating the tears as they came and replacing them with something...different. Something powerful! His head began to throb violently, so violently that it felt as though his skull would crack and burst out of his skin into a thousand pieces! A choked gasp escaped him as his body began to shudder in pain, retching to and fro...and he clutched at his face in pain with his bloodied hands as if to rip away the pain from within. Blood smeared across his eyes and his nose and brow; an X pattern trailed by his shaking fingers formed around his eyes and he scarcely seemed to notice the thick, crimson mask that was left behind...and suddenly, as if hardened by the heat of the blood and forged into something tangible and strong, the 'X' coagulated into what could only be called a true mask. He sunk to his knees in pain, his head trembled...his fingers clutched desperately at the edges of the mask as if it were the very instrument of his torture. His teeth gnashed tightly, so tight they could have cracked and he might never have noticed...yet a voice began to whisper again, louder this time...the voice that promised him power, that inspired within him a fierce defiance, and within him swelled up something that was both great and terrible...a power that was violent, terrifying, and yet somehow comfortable, as if by instinct he had marked it as his own. And as he tore away the mask, blood streaked down his face and covered his porcelain skin like a blood-rain, yet he did not scream...only growled, standing up straight as if pulling off the mask had pulled him to his very feet...and when he spoke again, his voice was not weak or hesitant...but steel.

"I will not run from you. And I am tired of listening to self-centered adults who tell me what I can and cannot have...what I deserve...! I refuse...to cower away from the things I want in this world simply because you tell me I'm not allowed to have them! I will take everything...a home, friends, my future...we'll take them all together, HARLOCK!"

...

It was in that moment that many things began to happen that he could not have imagined...the blue flame that had engulfed him suddenly flared dramatically into an inferno, surrounding him with energy that he could only scarcely imagine...and above his head descended a figure that was at once both roguish and regal, a gentleman and a pirate...one eye covered by a patch, his chest emblazoned with the Jolly Roger, and extended from his hand were fingers that clutched hold of something...a gun, perhaps? He had known its name on instinct, called upon it by the title 'Harlock', and yet there was a different name for this thing that he already knew. This power...it was called...

...

"Persona..."

From the gun of his persona issued forth a shot that smashed into his enemy and knocked the crossbow from his hands, sending a fright through him that sent him scrambling up the stairs and out of the annex, but behind he left a trio of shadows. Sensing suddenly that the tides were turning, he extended a hand to the others to help them to their feet...tired, damaged, exhausted as they were...this time, they weren't fighting to just protect someone. For the first time, they were fighting together. A team of four. And there was nothing, no enemy, that was going to stop the wayward artist now from defending the people who had defended him, in-turn.

"For everything until now...I want to thank you all," he told them as he stepped to the forefront of this battle, allowing himself to be the front line of their defense and the foremost of their attack this time, "Now, allow me to return the favor..." He called forth his persona, instinctively knowing the method now that he had summoned it once before. And as his hair flowed about him and his mask settled across his nose, his costume changing into that of a warrior...a rebel who fought against the injustice of society and believed in the justice of his own heart and those of the people around him...for the first time they saw his lips curl into a full, and genuine, smile.

"I will never lose heart...and I will never close my heart to others! All of the things that you sought to deny us, we shall take them by force with our own two hands!" he extended a hand with a flourish, and everyone posed together, ready for the battle to come behind him, "But as for you, Officer Ogasawara...and to anyone like you who abuses their power to hurt the weak as you have done to my friends, I promise you...we will fight back. We will not submit to your injustice. And we will win!"

The First Marvel
Character: Shiori Niko

A bolt of darkness shot across the battlefield as Chell gestured at one of the... Shadows, they were called? Shiori was still trying to come to grips with that, not to mention the billion other insane things they'd seen since they'd entered this place. Not long after they'd started, Chell had tossed an axe her way - heck if she really understood how they'd gotten those Stand things, but the axe seemed likewise capable of harming the Shadows, and she'd been putting her stamina and athleticism to good use as they'd continued their journey through the place.

All of that came to a screeching halt as Chell booted open another door (exiting a library of some kind) and the team emerged into an open area. Ogasawara - or the thing with his image, at least - was standing on a platform above the room, smirking as he aimed his guns down at them.

"Even base animals can have a certain level of cunning, I see... but the hunt wouldn't be any fun otherwise."

"A hunt!? Is that really the way you see your job? Whatever happened to serving and protecting!?" Shiori asked - only to duck behind a pillar as Ogasawara sent a few bullets her way. That attack was followed by a rain of bullets towards the rest of the team as they darted into cover.

"See, this is why everyone knows you're a slut. One look at you tells everyone all they really need to know, but stupid questions just go to show how much of a brainless bimbo you really are." the Hunter said, beckoning a group of Shadows forward to block the team's advance. "What, do you think criminals are just going to walk up and prostrate themselves if you patrol an area? Of course not! The only way to get rid of the scum of society is to hunt it down before it can do any harm... you have to be proactive, not reactive... and if a couple innocents get arrested along the way, so what? People either go to court with an ironclad case against them or they get to go home knowing they can and will get slapped down the moment they step out of line. Either way, the system wins, and that's what matters!"

By this point, Shiori's knuckles were white as she continued gripping her weapon. "I still don't see how arresting people whenever you want shows respect for due process." she muttered... and the Hunter laughed as more bullets rained down on the party and the Shadows slowly began to advance forward.

"I'm a police officer, you nitwit! But let's count the ways you f***ed up, shall we? Number one, running around like you think the streets belong to you. Adults may quicken their pace every now and then, but runners are guilty! And proper Japanese women walk meekly! Number two, the f*** is that body of yours? You barely even look Japanese! What, did you go overseas and get implants or something? You'd stick out anywhere, and who goes that far to get attention with their bodies except whores? You're like some kind of walking adolescent fantasy, so of course you shouldn't be on the streets! Like hell I'm going to let you incite even more brats to misbehave! You have nothing to contribute to society except getting married to a proper older husband and popping out babies to help the birth ra-"

"..."

"...Are you crying? Seriously? Aaaaahahahahaha! It's true! You know it's true! Oh, this is great! See, I always know how to spot my prey, and my eyes didn't lead me wrong! Now, I think it's time for all of you to stop being leeches on decent, hardworking adults." His good cheer vanished as suddenly as it had come.

"Shi-" Chell began, stopping as he saw the expression on her face.

"I... am so f*cking tired... of arrogant adults like you who think you can do whatever you want to whoever you want!" Shiori said, clenching her fist so hard that blood started to trickle down. "F*ck your society! I am not just a walking pair of tits for sickos like you to do whatever you want with! But you don't even care about who I am, do you!? You just see someone, judge them without any information at all, and do whatever you want! You are exactly the same as those criminals you claim you're hunting. Well, screw that sh*t! A society that accepts creating victims - when they're kids, no less - is one that I am never going to accept! I will gladly rebel against you and the whole twisted system you stand for!"

Flames flickered around Shiori's eyes, surging inwards to form a white magician's mask. Reaching up, Shiori grabbed the ends of it and started prying. The pain... but as much as it hurt to peel it away from her skin, it wasn't even close to the disgust she felt for the hunter above them.

I am thou... thou art I...
If thou art willing to aim for everything, to be more than those who judge you believe you are, then accept the contract with me.
Turneth not away from the part of you that others see, but accept all of yourself with the greatness my partner should display.
Live not in fear of the society that tries to control you, but seize control of your destiny.
I am the Queen of Connacht, who brought down even the Child of Light with my wisdom and plots. Now... call my name!

"Destroy them all... MEDB!" With one final pull, Shiori ripped off the mask, summoning a new outfit for herself as she did so. Through blood-covered eyes, she watched as a gorgeous, lightly-armored figure appeared in the air before her and raised one hand. Moments later, a psychic assault crashed over the gathered shadows, blowing a hole right through the center of their formation. Recognizing their chance, Chell didn't hesitate to follow up with his own attack, the two alternating between gun and Persona to shred the remaining forces.

Scowling, Ogasawara retreated, heading towards another annex and a hunting ground that would be more in his favor. Shiori half-collapsed a moment later, but waved the others off as they hurried over to help her.

"Don't... don't worry... I'm fine. My energy's coming back... and I don't think it's going to be so easy for him to ambush us now." Shiori said, pushing herself up to her feet. She paused for just a moment as a cold feeling clutched her heart... then slapped her cheeks. "He... he wasn't entirely wrong about me. I-I'm not a slut or anything, but I do try to look good. That's the thing... the only thing... a lot of people have ever thought when they looked at me. I don't need to stand on top of the world or anything... I just... I just want people to see all of me, not just one part. A society that decides you're a certain way and then hates you for it is just so... so stupid. Come on... let's go show him how wrong he is about us."

"And this is the classroom. It's quiet because it's Sunday, but we're normally pretty packed, so I'd think about how you're going to make a good impression when...hey! Are you listening?" The shrill, tired bark caused Shouei to turn his eyes to meet the teacher's as he entered his new classroom at Shujin for the first time. They'd just come from the office, but the entire school seemed big enough that an ordinary person would easily get lost without a guide to show them around, so he'd been assigned a guide in the form of this exhausted looking teacher in a long yellow turtle neck to keep an eye on him until the tour was done. He could still remember most of the places he'd visited, if he thought really hard about it, but this school was on a whole 'nother scale compared to most places...of course, it wasn't whether he was going to remember it all and fit in well that was their biggest concern. As he looked about the dull, empty grey classroom again, he realized she was glaring at him the same cold way he'd been glared at in the Principle's Office, and even before then...

"Listen, Shujin's not some forgiving school you can just have the run of. I heard about your prior circumstances, so don't think anyone here is going to sympathize. We've all had a lot on our plate from last year, and we're here to help the students who are trying their best, but well...just don't cause any trouble, okay? Honestly, we've had transfer students like you, but don't think that means you'll get any leniency. He- that is to say, they tried their best to rehabilitate themselves, so if you thought you'd get away with any funny business in Shujin just because we were willing to take in someone with your record, then you'd better think again. Do you understand that, Mr. Hihi?" Despite the stern lecture, Shouei turned to glance into the eyes of Ms. Kawakami, his new homeroom teacher, and saw what he expected to see from most people...she had put up a brave front, but she was still staring up at him, nervousness tinting her gaze. She was, at least a bit, frightened by the large teenager despite everything she'd said to put him on his back foot. Shouei would have clicked his tongue, but there was no point...he couldn't change how he looked no matter how many times people made assumptions about him, or hated him just for existing, and it was his choice to come here with his hood today despite the violation to Shujin's uniform policy. He didn't like meeting people's cold gazes all day as he passed them on the street, and even if it made the assumptions of people like Ms. Kawakami all the worse, it was a small price to pay for his own convenience. Besides, he knew she'd read his file...the principle had said so during their meeting. Every little black mark, every dirty crime he'd been accused of was there in blood red ink, intended to follow him and haunt his future regardless of the reality of it all. That's what his 'enemy', society had planned for him...and it was a fact now that he'd have to accept. They were going to try to rip his life apart, take his future away from him, even if he had nothing left going for him.

"I'm sorry." Shouei didn't know why he said it, but he offered an apology as he rubbed the back of his head and bowed it a bit towards Ms. Kawakami. It wasn't her fault he felt this way, and she was just offering sound advice for the time being. He shouldn't have let his thoughts wander off into their own little world, so it was natural she got suspicious when he started spacing out...and for that, he hoped a simple apology would do.

"Look, just try to focus on your studies, alright? I know you might not feel like that's the best way to spend your time, but the more you dedicate yourself to school, the more you're going to improve the teacher's opinions of you. I don't know if you'll make any friends with your head down that way, but...anyway, I guess I'm rambling a bit. I actually have something to do after this, and this is the end of the tour, so if you want I'll escort you back to the front of the building. It'd probably be better not to let the principle catch you here on a weekend, without someone watching you." Despite the fact that he once again felt like he was being policed around, Shouei could tell that she merely wanted to make sure he wasn't caught loitering in the school. It was his first day tomorrow, but for now the only reason he'd been allowed on school grounds was so the principle could 'Draw a line', so to speak...but despite her offer, the whole place seemed so big and quiet right now, so foreign despite being part of his new home, that Shouei felt...that he wanted to stay longer.

"Actually, is it alright if I stay longer? You can leave." Shouei offered, despite immediately being met with two narrowed, chocolate eyes. The already terse look on her face turned into a bitter frown, and Ms. Kawakami went to fold her arms for a minute before sighing and placing a hand on her hip instead, a look of aggravation present in her gaze. "I was going to watch some of the clubs-"

"Are you an idiot?" Her words cut him off before he could explain his rational, and he winced a bit behind the hem of his hoodie. The clubs were still practicing today, so he thought that he might see what extracurricular activities Shujin had, even though someone on probation like him would be forbidden from joining them. But before he could speak her words had cut through his attitude like a knife, and so he felt his throat clutching shut despite the courage he'd mustered a moment ago. He might have seemed like an abrasive thug on the outside...at least, he'd heard it many times before...but in truth Shouei was easily trampled upon in conversations, and now he couldn't see a window to get a word in edgewise to Ms. Kawakami to defend himself, despite his desperation to be understood. "You should realize that the principle's not nearly as tolerant. You've just had a tour of the place for the first time, so no, I'm not comfortable letting you find the exit on your own. You realize how it sounds, saying you want to stay here alone, right? And if anything's out of place, regardless of who did it, you'll obviously be suspected on your first day of being-"

"Ah, there you are Ms. Kawakami!" As if a refreshing breeze blew in, suddenly a voice interrupted the tirade as both teacher and delinquent turned to see a student sprint down the hallway and stop, taking a moment to breath, before standing up and offering a wide smile to the Shujin administrator. Judging by the uniform pants, this must have been another one of Ms. Kawakami's students, but the thin figure was wearing a lazy green t-shirt with a yellow outline and a high collar, as well as a pair of thick glasses that faded perfectly into his messy black hair. "The principle sent me to lead the new kid around. He said that you were busy...but jeez, doesn't he know how hard it is to program a game? Our club came in on a day off and everything, so we could get things done before the competition..." Kawakami's eyes lit up as he spoke, a sign of apprehension towards something the new student had said, but whatever the particularly surprising detail was escaped Shouei as he listened in in turn.

"He knew that I had somewhere to be? That can't be right! Or has the principle been keeping tabs on me...?" Ms. Kawakami muttered something as she bit her lip, and after a moment of quiet deliberation let out another sigh. "Fine. I don't know why the principle decided to have you escort him around Susumu, but I'll leave things to you for now. Remember to get help if anything weird happens, okay? He's not your average transfer student after all." Ms. Kawakami glanced to the side to see the dejected look on Shouei's face, and shrugged. "No offense." Before he could muster a response Ms. Kawakami exited through the door, brushing past her student as she turned towards the stairwell to leave the school and enjoy what was left of her Sunday in peace. At least allegedly she would.

The pale student watched for a few moment as the room went quiet, and then smirked as soon as he was sure Kawakami had disappeared to at least the floor below. "Hyew, talk about a headache. I really can't stand that woman...she's always nagging us about our grades or health, but you can tell at a glance that she's not the type who has her own life together. Where does she get off judging you and me, huh?" The sudden shift in attitude surprised Shouei, and he didn't need to meet Susumu's gaze as he turned around to tell that mischief had already made itself a place in his eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring that had just a few too many jingles for your everyday high school student to be handling. "The name's Susumu Hirose. Ah, and don't mind all that nonsense about me giving you an escort. I was just taking a break from our club when I overheard you two, and I couldn't stand listening to her nagging...seriously, don't teachers around here care about how they're harassing students? I hear she was close with that Kamoshida a*****e though...so I guess maybe those types just like sticking together."

"I'm Hihi...er, Shouei. Nice to meet you." As Hiro offered a handshake Shouei smiled, and returned the gesture. The two stopped after a moment, still hand in hand...then Shouei felt himself laughing, as if a bit of the tension he'd been feeling from before had gone away as quickly as Ms. Kawakami herself. He didn't know if this Susumu, but if he could trust Shouei despite knowing a bit about him beforehand, then it would be the first person to truly take a stride to understand him since moving to Tokyo...and that was a naive, but comforting hope he hadn't felt in a while. "You said you were working on a project before, right? I'm not causing you trouble, am I?" Shouei's mind wandered back to the conversation with Kawakami from before, and the thin smile Susumu offered in return showed there was definitely something more to it.

"No, that's...at least on paper, I'm the head of a high tech Programming Club. But even though Mr. Hiruta's our advisor, none of the teachers here have any idea how to actually run a club like ours. We even provide most of our own equipment...thanks to that, we mostly just 'advise' ourselves. As long as we create something the school can brag about, and enter it in a contest every now and then, nobody cares what we do...which is exactly how I like it." Susumu slid a hand into his pocket, and the jingle that Shouei thought he'd imagined before echoed again as he pulled the ring of keys forth. Seeing the steel ring made it clear, this was high schooler's keychain and likely belonged to the school itself. "Wanna see? The guys are in the computer lab right now, but with the principle's keys we can go wherever we want. I think grabbing a snack from the cafeteria would be a nice way for Ms. Kawakami to pay you back for wasting your time, don't you?" Hiro chuckled as he swung the keys around his finger a few times, and waited for a response.

On the inside, Shouei hesitated. On one hand, he could remember the warning that Ms. Kawakami gave him. If they got caught, then he'd be cutting his lifeline before he ever started school at Shujin...but at the same time, he remembered the look on the principle's face when they spoke, and the disdain that the other staff had shown when his reputation came up. Those weren't doubtful eyes like Ms. Kawakami's, but eyes that had already decided...and no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be able to prove himself to them. They'd already decided he was a lost cause, so was there even a point in trying? Some part of him said yes, while another part said no...but seeing the cool, decisive gaze of the seemingly meek Hirose, his heart moved in a direction he thought was akin to darkness. His father was a demon, so why shouldn't he play the roll of a trickster as well? He wouldn't hurt anybody, and an afternoon meeting new friends, ones willing to give him a chance like Susumu, felt like something he sorely needed. "...lets just make sure Ms. Kawakami isn't blamed." Shouei said, insisting just a bit.

"Don't worry about it. She was busy leading you around, remember? Besides, I got these right out of the office, so anyone could be at fault. The principle's the one who was suppose to be in there, after all, so I don't think he'll go around blaming anyone anyway. Wouldn't want his ~sparkling reputation to be ruined by accusations he left the keys out." Despite what he'd assumed, it sounded like Susumu had more experience with this than he initially imagined. Shouei remembered his friends in Mimasaka, the trouble they'd gotten in...Susumu reminded him of one of his friends from the old city as well, but comparing the two was probably a mistake. They were different people, and the others had paid for his childish rebellion in Mimasaka, their entire 'gang' punished deeply for their troubles. He wouldn't allow that fate to fall on Susumu, at least not because of him...and this was his one chance at a new start, so he'd make sure not to screw up his new beginning. "You don't have a way to disguise yourself though, do you? The janitor here's a real p***k, so he might see us if we're not careful. And he knows all of our faces already. If we had someone he didn't recognize, or someone with a way to disguise themselves who could scout ahead first, then I'd feel a lot better, but..."

Oh. So that was it. He'd thought for a minute that he was being invited to be a member of their club, but he understood now what Susumu was really after. Like him, it wasn't about how they appeared on the surface that mattered to Hirose...it was what they did behind the scenes; the same way of thinking that had once consumed Shouei. But even so, a friendship formed in the darkness could be far stronger than one they simply pushed forward out in the open. He'd never really be accepted in the 'computer club' anyway, at least by the advisor Mr. Hiruta and the people skeptical of them; but joining in some "extracurricular activities" to throw dirt in the face of dicks like the principle happened to be an idea that appealed to him. The nagging voice in his head that insisted he was treading the old path sounded a little louder, but Shouei felt his resolve steeling itself now, as he buried the bitterness that welled in his stomach. "Yeah...actually, I think I have a plan for that." Shouei's hand slipped into his pocket, and slowly drew out the mask he'd kept hidden away. He placed his father's mask, a mask that had once been possessed with the very strength of a demon, on his face as he let out a strange sigh...not one of regret or exhaustion, but instead one that rang with a hint of darkness. Of enjoyment. Of the desire to steal away from the warped feelings of this society once again.

"Awesome. I'll tell the others to meet up with us at the cafeteria. I know this might sound a bit weird, but...welcome to Shujin. We're glad to have you here man." Susumu smiled, and waited for a moment before Shouei turned and began walking down the hallway, putting the mask back in his pocket again. As he turned away, the smile on the thin student's face widened, and his eyes narrowed as he fell into step behind Shouei on their way to a fun, and taboo afternoon. He muffled a laugh and pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping in a text to the rest of his gang to meet up with them as he walked. They had a new friend to make use of for a time, and once he'd rung out what fun there was to have, he'd just dispose of him like he always did...like he had, to all the rest of them.



The sound of muddy puddles splashing queued the pursuers as they stopped in the streets of Shibuya, turning back and sprinting towards the opening into the alley behind them. Just as they turned they caught sight of the last traces of shoe leather; the sole of his shoes, the only sight they could catch vanishing around the corner as the masked criminal kept just a few steps ahead of them, dashing towards the streets of Shibuya, the blind spots of the pursuit...the escape that he sought so desperately.

"I just...have to...go a little further..." His lungs burned from sprinting, but the chance of escape grew narrower by the second. He slipped the mask off as he entered a new street and starting walking along with the crowd, keeping an eye out at the signs of the stores along the street. He passed a book store, and a cafe as he hurried his foosteps, before finally spotting an Arcade. Just as the police raised their voice a dozen feet back in the crowd, he ducked into the gaming corner and let the automatic doors close behind him as he moved towards a darker corner of the room. He placed his back against the wall, and took a deep breath as he tried to relax. He never would have imagined things would escalate the way they did...a game, aimed at screwing over shitty adults, had nearly backed him in to a corner now. All because of him...a friend he thought he could trust.

"Looks like I've finally caught you." A dark voice caused his eyes to shoot open, and he looked over at the person he'd once called friend. The Shujin student in the green shirt grinned, and sneered at his friend turned prey as his mind danced vigorously to find an escape from this situation. "Why are you running, Shouei? No matter where you go, you'll never be able to get out of my hands. Your fate was decided the moment you decided to trample on to my board...every piece acts as I demand, or it gets eliminated. Those are the rules of this game!" His voice was venom, and his tone commanding respect as if he were a conqueror bent on domination. And yet, beneath it all Shouei could still see the frail introvert, the man he'd nearly been able to reach...to befriend. "Go outside and turn yourself in! If you don't want that, then I want you to agree to my plan. I'm not wrong! Just listen to what I have to say, and we'll ruin all of these shitty people, who cling on to their pathetic lives while standing on the backs of good people! I'm not giving you a choice anymore! Either listen to me, or...o-or..."

A moment of hesitation. He wanted to say he could still see a glimmer of light in his friend's eyes, a chance that he would turn around and see the wrong he'd committed. But he was too far gone, and the darkness inside was clearly consuming him. Shouei knew he should have admitted that, but a desire to save his friend gnawed at him...and he refused to give up on it, even though he knew the situation he was in. "I...can't. I know what you're saying, but you're going too far right. Your being blinded by his-!"

"Cooops! In here! I found someone suspicious!" He was interrupted as the bespectacled student began shouting, and all eyes in the Arcade were drawn in their direction. Voices started shouting near the front door, and as the automatic door began sliding open Shouei felt his heart speeding up. This was a moment that felt decided on by fate, by time. He was being bound once again, his freedom stolen away.