"Does it hurt?"
A cold gun muzzle was pressed against his bloodied wound.
"I'm asking you—does it hurt?"
That unforgettable voice echoed in the dim room.
"You're already a cripple who can't stand up anyway... might as well take the other leg off too."
The stench of blood filled his nostrils. Moonlight poured down coldly onto the fresh blood.
The powerless man gasped like a fish out of water, writhing in pain.
Everything overlapped with the scene before him.
Kazawa clenched his teeth. The pain and fury from the depths of memory surged forth. The tiles under his grip couldn't withstand the pressure and began to crack.
The alert shadowy samurai all drew their katanas in unison. Maruden Jirou, who had been leisurely watching his prey's agony, suddenly turned toward Kazawa's hiding spot in alarm:
"Someone's there! Who is it?!"
Kazawa stood up.
He had been crouched on one side of the rooftop, back pressed against the wall to stay hidden. But with that motion, he was completely exposed to the shadows' line of sight.
Yet Kazawa had no mind to care about the stand-off before him now.
Before his eyes, the memories he desperately wanted to forget came flooding back.
In that cramped room, the gunshots and blinding pain, the blades stabbing into his flesh, one strike after another.
Hunger. Hypothermia. The louder and louder drip-drop of blood hitting the ground...
And then, the pitying gazes at his hospital bedside. Those sympathetic eyes that refused to meet his own, silently repeating one word—
"Cripple."
Thump—
The thunderous sound of his heartbeat echoed through Kazawa's ears.
"Have you really forgotten it all? All that pain? Your future being denied, being destroyed... have you truly forgotten?"
A child's soft voice, a man's deep voice, a woman's crisp voice—multiple voices overlapped, speaking at once in Kazawa's heart.
"A fate controlled, pride broken, a life ruined... haven't you had enough? Do you want to feel shame all over again?"
Pain radiated from his chest through his entire body. Kazawa stumbled forward, clutching his splitting head, unable to suppress a pained cry.
"Stand up. Get back up. Those who never give their all will only be devoured by destiny—"
"AAAHHHH—!!"
It sounded like it was from pain—or maybe something deeper, something buried deep within. Kazawa roared, his fingers reaching for the edge of the mask on his face.
"That's right. Let us form a contract. I am thou, thou art I—"
"With a presence that refuses to be defined, a form that no one can ignore—dance within fate!"
Kazawa gripped the mask tightly and yanked it from his face. The pain felt like tearing flesh from bone, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged.
A wave of invisible force burst outward from Kazawa at the center. Maruden Jirou's shadow henchmen instinctively raised their sleeves to block the sudden wind.
Kazawa looked up, half of his face drenched in blood.
The blood dripped down his nose and onto his lips. He licked the metallic sweetness, and then, a blaze of azure flame engulfed him.
When the fire dispersed, the school uniform of Teitan High was gone. In its place was a sleek black outfit, a blood-red scarf wrapped around his neck and trailing behind him in the wind.
Behind him, a dark phantom thief stood amidst the flames. Beneath a black top hat was a skull-faced mask. A leather suit and a sweeping cloak billowed in the air. The full-black silhouette was like a shadow cutout, making the stark-white mask even more ghostly.
Behind the figure, tendrils of black mist twisted like tentacles, wrapping around various white masks—fox masks, demon masks, Noh masks, smiling faces, weeping faces—creepy and surreal.
As his mind slowly cleared, Kazawa glanced back at his own Persona and twitched the corner of his mouth.
What the heck? Why is Arsène so stylish, but his own Persona looks like something straight out of Lovecraft? Feels like it's draining his SAN just looking at it.
Whatever. Time to act cool—ahem, I mean, time to strike at the Palace.
"You really are a pervert who gets off on torturing others with money and power, aren't you, Mr. Maru." Kazawa looked down from above at the panicked and retreating Maruden Jirou.
"If not for fear of the law, you'd definitely recreate this scene in real life, wouldn't you? You're disgusting."
"Who are you?! Why are you in my estate?!" Maruden Jirou shouted furiously.
"Me? I'm the one who's here to drag you to hell." Kazawa spread his arms wide, his scarf flaring in the wind.
"Letting scum like you die would be doing you a favor. You should live on—live long enough to watch yourself lose your money, reputation, and status, and rot away in prison in regret."
Maruden Jirou's shadows cursed loudly and shouted,
"Get him! Kill him! Where are the archers?! Shoot! Shoot!"
Kazawa grinned brightly—and leapt back.
He vanished into thin air right before the shadows' eyes.
——
Before the battle could begin, Kazawa quietly took out his phone and exited the cognitive world.
Sure, he'd dropped some badass lines, but he hadn't sent the calling card yet. And without the card, the real-world counterpart wouldn't be on high alert, so the Treasure wouldn't manifest at all.
So even if he defeated Maruden Jirou now, it wouldn't lead to his change of heart.
Kazawa knew this perfectly well—after all, he'd beaten Persona 5 three times already.
Still, that didn't stop him from acting cool. Dropping the mic and then ghosting—what a thrill.
Just as he was about to strike a pose and laugh, Kazawa looked down—and his smile froze.
Crap. Why was he still wearing the Phantom Thief outfit?!
And somehow, he'd been teleported from the shopping street to Maruden's front gate.
Kazawa quickly looked left and right to make sure no one saw his quick-change act. Then he tried willing the outfit to revert.
Once he focused on the thought, his black outfit shimmered and shifted back into his blue Teitan High uniform.
Phew. Thank goodness.
If it couldn't change back, he'd have to find a hiding spot to change clothes every time he left the Metaverse. That'd be so unchic.
As soon as he relaxed, exhaustion hit him like a truck. His whole body ached, and he swayed on his feet.
So this is the fatigue from awakening a Persona... damn, it's rough.
He sighed and pulled out his phone, opened the GPS app—yes, a normal one—and saved Maruden's mansion address before dragging his tired body back to the café.
Along the way, Kazawa slowly pieced together what he'd just learned about his Persona.
Unlike the protagonist of P5, whose Persona was Arsène Lupin, Kazawa's starting Persona was the Phantom Thief from Edogawa Ranpo's novels: The Fiend with Twenty Faces.
Honestly, it was a bit surprising… but also not that surprising.
The Fiend with Twenty Faces was a character inspired by Arsène Lupin, designed by Edogawa Ranpo. A master of disguise and transformation, "Twenty Faces" referred to his ability to assume multiple identities—twenty, supposedly.
He was famous for stealing art, using meticulous and bold methods. He'd always send a warning letter to the owner before acting, stating the time he would strike.
Sound familiar?
Yep. Kid the Phantom Thief was based on both Arsène and Twenty Faces.
His arch-nemesis was the famous detective from Edogawa's works: Akechi Kogorou—the original model for Mouri Kogorou.
And in P5, Akechi Goro was clearly a reference to the same character.
Kazawa smacked his forehead.
What kind of self-aware meta reference is this?! It's like destiny's trolling me!
And don't even get him started on that crippled police officer image in Maruden's Palace—there's no way that was a coincidence. Kazawa wasn't the kind of person to get emotional over just anything. If that leg-cutting scene hadn't triggered some deep trauma, there's no way he would've awakened like that out of nowhere.
No way that wasn't intentional.
Lyon, get out here and take your beating!