madimpossibledreamer

Main Points:
Persona Superhero AU
Summary: Yosuke goes to see an old friend.
Word Count: 2153
Rating: K
Note: THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE PERSONA SERIES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
warning: chapter may be soul-crushing
Dedicated to City of Heroes. Paragon City will live on through its heroes.

Yosuke doesn't manage to see Souji again after breakfast, but then, if the guy was transferring partway through the semester, it'd only make sense for him to wait until after midterms.

The brunet stifled a yawn. Tests were alternatively boring and terrifying, and the review in this case wasn't any different. He'd have gone to sleep if they weren't already being given points in the form of something-or-other.

He'd gotten a chewing out from Junpei for Junpei's own mistake, not that he'd expected anything different. He'd also been vaguely interrogated about where he'd been yesterday, never mind the fact that his roommate never explained why he hadn't come home last night.

Yosuke just shrugged it off, insisting with a yawn that if he merely kept thinking about it he'd be bored to the point of falling asleep mid-conversation. The fellow student wasn't at all appeased by the assurance that what he'd been doing was too boring to talk about, and just kept badgering him. A little unpleasant, maybe, but he'd been expecting it and had had worse, so he found it pretty easy to endure the interrogation. Junpei isn’t all that terrifying compared to the things he faces on a regular basis, and he’s fully aware that some things just…broke, during his ‘treatment’. His usual sense of fear, for one. Probably what held him back from flirting with whoever he felt like, when he was younger. Now, he can hide things if he feels like, if it’s important to his mission, but that’s what holds him back, now. Not things that don’t even matter in the grand scheme of things. He’d spent so much time worrying about useless things.

The talk with Souji had reminded him of another who hadn't quite survived in the same way he had. He missed his best friend. Even if she was way too violent sometimes and liked to cut down his self esteem. Sometimes, they'd be at each other's throats and wouldn't speak for days. Others probably thought they hated each other, but that was just how they worked. They could tell the other anything, and get good advice back after some good natured ribbing. Despite appearances, they always had each other's backs.

Some days, like today, he'd make a mental note to tell her about something, or idly wonder why he hadn't had to dodge flying feet lately, and then his brain would follow that chain of logic to its natural conclusion and he'd feel the pain of loss all over again. It wasn't fair that someone still living was more unreachable than the freaking dead.

Still, if he skipped lunch, he'd have enough time to swing by her place. He could at least visit her, even if he couldn't really have a conversation with her. He'd visit every day, if he could, but there was no way he was going to draw the wrong kinds of attention to her, so he had to cut down on his visits.

Her place was just a few stops away. He'd bring her the bento he'd bought this morning. If she didn't throw it at him, she would eat it, sooner or later, even though that might only be the remnants of 'programming' to prevent her from starving herself to death. He suppressed a shudder, easily passed off as due to the cold for the benefit of his fellow passengers.

When he was younger, he probably would've whined endlessly about giving up lunch, but now he can do it without a second thought. He can literally will his body into not feeling hungry. It helps that his breakfast had been so good and filling. He would’ve asked for an extra serving if he’d thought about it, but that would’ve been exactly what he didn’t need, huh. Too obvious. Attract too many questions, especially since he just broke up with someone. He'll just eat a snack later, or probably convince Junpei that some of their studying is better done in Gatten Sushi or the Peace Diner. His budget as a student isn't anywhere close to infinite, but he can spare some money, especially since SEBEC is unknowingly paying for some of his education. Like they promised, and now they're making good on their promise whether they like it or not. The thought grimly amuses him.

This apartment building's mostly empty—good, as he buzzes for the couple who run the place. Eventually, it's Mitsuko who opens the door. That's good too, because with Yosuke's mood today, he doesn't think he can keep up with the general whirlwind of a punfest that accompanies her husband.

As always, her smile and murmur of "It's good to see you, dear," are completely genuine. He knows that beyond all deception, these two really do like and care for the two fugitives from science. Yet, as always, words and smile are also tinged with a sadness that dips into the eternal.

"It's very good for you to look after her, despite the circumstances." He bows, like always. The younger, stupider version of him probably wouldn't have bothered, but then, he's not that guy, anymore, is he? Probably the only thing he has to thank SEBEC for. As if that was all it took for him to grow up.

He turns down the freshly made rice balls she offers on a plate. He doesn't really have that much time. He'll probably end up grabbing a few as he leaves, anyway, to not hurt her feelings and to stave off the edge of his hunger. And she probably knows that. This isn't the first time, after all. And in certain places, he really is predictable. He can’t be, usually, but here it’s not a danger. She smiles sadly at him and goes back to her own apartment, and he's left in the dark.

They never ask questions. They know it’s better, more protection for them, that he’d refuse to answer them, just as he does with Kanji and Mrs. Tatsumi. It’s safer if they don’t know, especially in a world where psychics can just read their minds. But even so…they don’t know the truth, and they still accept him.

He’s not sure whether that’s more or less impressive. Probably more, given that it’s not just words. Their kindness is true. Real.

He’s not sure their story, either, only that they ended up somehow off the record, owning the building but otherwise under the radar. He hasn’t asked for the same reasons of courtesy.

The stairwell's more nightmarish ever. The bulb's burned out—maybe this weekend he'll come around with a replacement and just do odd jobs around the building. He doesn't trust Bunkichi's back to not leave him with stabbing pains, if not worse. He still doesn't even trust the older body with lifting all the heavy stacks of books, but, well…it's not as if he's the only stubborn person he knows. The only thing left on is the emergency lights, which bathe the stairs with a blood-red glow, and in any case don't light up most of the building. Not that he needs it, not with the vision he's been gifted with, but…

The gulp is reflexive, but the slow build of power is not. He lets it out in a long slow breath before he can summon any wind storms to blow out the windows or anything else stupid, but the very act is calming. A reassurance, maybe, that he does have the power, to change his destiny, to protect the ones he cares about, to bring a justice long denied so many. With decisive, confident strides he walks to the door, worse maintained, perhaps, than any of the others. The wood's starting to splinter a little.

He knocks, and the response is immediate. "G-ooooo aWay, haNamura!!" The voice is distorted, a mere mockery of the one he'd known so well, and dies away into a low, keening wail.

He ignores her, taking out the spare key he keeps in his student's bag and uses it to unlock the door to the room. Yosuke's ready for the sudden rush, the girl hissing and spitting at him, weakly windmilling her arms and attempting to claw him in the face with nails that are probably too long. He calmly holds her as tears stream down her face, preventing her from hurting herself or him, until her strength slowly leeches from her arms.

"I-I-I-I hAte you," she manages between hiccups. Her eyes close, and she's attempting to withdraw. Again.

It hurts seeing strong, independent, ready-to-kick-anyone Chie like this. But then, just leaving her there would've been worse. Chie would've never wanted herself to become just a pawn in someone else's game of death. Gently he takes her hand and leads her to the island in the center of the apartment, biting his lip as she becomes steadily more compliant. By the time they sit down, she's entirely docile. He takes out the bento and sets it down in front of her, retrieving cans of Orange Smash from her teenie refrigerator for them both. She eats mechanically, robotically, without a hint of recognition on her face. It feels like someone's taken a blowtorch to his gut, but he soldiers on, gently telling her all about his days, even asking her for advice on some of the situations, telling her about the cool new neighbor, even though he knows he'll get no answer when she's like this. Honestly, though, it's a good thing that this is the only face she shows the old couple, or he'd be afraid for their safety. The gash in the wall when she went after him with the scissors is still there. She's only violent with him, which is good, because he can take it. And honestly, he prefers it, the version that's programmed to kill him, because for him, that's easier to deal with. Or even the fragment that barely shows up and hates him for saving her, wishes he'd left her to madness or death, rather than this purgatory of an existence between life and death, an emptiness that's worse than any hell. The blessings of freedom, of peace from the experiments and the regimen, are all the more horrifying for what's left of his best friend than the worst torture. At least when she's trying to kill him, it's just a touch more like the old fire that he knew so well.

When he stands up to leave, she starts crying again, the desperate cries of a bird with broken wings, and he almost doesn't have the heart to leave. Almost. But he can't help but think that his presence has become associated with her pain, at least a little bit, and he can't inflict that on her any further. When he hugs her to leave, this time, he's shocked that he gets a tentative hug back, but once he can finally bring himself to pull away, the empty lack of recognition is back, and her arms fall listlessly to her sides.

When he gets outside the apartment and carefully locks it again, he allows himself a moment to sag against the wall and let the tears fall before standing up straight again and wiping the tears away. How, he has no idea, but he's the strong one, the one that didn't break, and he's going to bring SEBEC to its knees, no matter what it takes. And he knows, deep down, the place where he occasionally continues to hear Chie's voice, that if he allowed the darkness to pull him down, SEBEC to win, Chie would be furious with him, and probably kick his shins. He doesn't know whether it's that or something else that allows him to, for the most part, continue as if he's had a perfectly normal past without a cloud in the sky, but he's not going to complain or second guess when it's necessary to his existence. He pulls himself together and stops by Mitsuko's apartment, stuffing one of the rice balls in his mouth and exclaiming about how delicious it is, grabbing a few others and running to make it to the bus on time. By the sad yet proud look in her eyes, he knows that she sees his eyes are just a little redder than normal. They stopped saying it very quickly, but the old couple was astounded by his ability to deal with tragedy—their words, not his. "You're a survivor, Yosuke-kun," Bunkichi told him one day, usual reservoir of puns all dried up, and that was a label that he would always wear proudly. He can compartmentalize, something that writers just like Maya-chan theorized was true of most of those who put on masks, Persona and villain alike, live his daily life, but when Jiraiya was needed...well, he wasn't living for just himself anymore. And that's why he can't let anyone stop him, not until the world sees the truth.