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madimpossibledreamerwell, this is the longish persona 4 .hack inspired au introduction chapter that I thought was longer but the word count was off by about 1000 so don't be scared. nothing was coming for a while, but once you get souji talking he's actually rather communicative. I wish I could say the same about buffy and josephine and the stands. *glares in their general direction*
he's definitely different from but similar to the unbreakable ties souji. I like both my soujis. no, all of them, really, there's the personatown one too. and all my yosukes.
don't worry, I haven't actually not capitalized the sentences in the fic. they're capitalized there. for whatever reason I just didn't feel like doing it here in the intro. I'm in a weird geeky hyper mood but don't worry, it shall pass with time and sleep. mostly sleep.
main points: persona 4 .hack inspired au
chapter summary: souji moves to inaba, only it's for two years, and we catch a glimpse into the future when souji plays innocent sin online.
probably important: yosuke's character is a kitsune named koual, as you can probably gather if you read the innocent sin forum posts. souji doesn't know this yet. it's a minor spoiler but since I already spoiled it in the forum posts you get to have suspense rather than surprise (hitchcock definition).
souji's character is a nekomata named kenshin. given his role as a truthseeker both in canon and in the story I thought it was appropriate. and his obsession with cats. because cats. yosuke doesn't know it's souji, either. they're not that close in real life (RL) yet.
oh, also, duh. I made a forum post with yosuke explaining what an MS is, but haven't posted that yet so it's kind of useless. it stands for mood sensing (system) and is basically a new piece of gamer gear allowing for greater character expression based on cues of mood from the player.
word count: 2643
rating: T
“Leave me alone! You’re just nosy! You don’t know anything about me, so don’t pretend we’re friends or any of that crap. We’ve just grouped in an online game, that’s all.”
If Souji isn’t mistaken, that’s tears marring the fox-man’s fur, but he can’t imagine the player typing /cry in this situation. He stares at the screen, at a loss, before quickly typing out a response. “We might play together, but it’s more than just that, isn’t it? We’ve talked about school, your friends, your troubles with work. My living in a strange town. Nazoko. You made sure neither Nazoko nor I were on our own.”
If the player behind Koual was even the littlest bit normal, he’d just laugh it off, maybe typing something about Souji’s cat obsession or the latest dress show Souji’s been watching, probably with a winky emoticon (that Koual’d had to explain early on). That’s not what happened.
“Dude, you think a little talk about RL makes us best buds?” The sneering laugh felt wrong. Koual occasionally said some rude things, but they weren’t meant to hurt, just a result of the player not thinking before he typed. This…
Was it real? Was this what Koual really thought of him? Was he right? Did Souji not actually care?
Or was it not real? Was Koual saying things he didn’t really feel, that neither of them felt, just to…what?
Push him away. Yes. Was this the truth?
He had to make the decision now, stick with it. It’s true, he didn’t know that much about his online friend. The player could be lying about everything. Was it even his business? He could be a girl, for all Souji knew, but…
But from what Souji knew of him, Koual was the type to want to be alone when he was hurting. He seemed so confident, but he’d occasionally said something that seemed really…insecure, really. It’s not me he’s trying to convince. It’s himself.
Enough thought. Time to act. “We’re not best friends. We haven’t known each other for long enough for that. But we are friends, and whatever’s bothering you, I’d like to help.”
It’s enough for the player’s armor to break, just enough for Souji to see Koual react. His character takes the smallest of steps back when Souji says they’re not best friends. The tears have increased, which definitely seems off. Then again, maybe he’s playing with one of those new MS systems. He’d mentioned something about being interested on the forums.
“You can’t help. No one can. You’ll just think I’m crazy, anyway.” Another case of the player typing—or, in the case of an MS, speaking—before thinking.
And suddenly the kitsune character is running past his own, brushing against him, and just for a second Souji thinks he feels fur brushing against his arm and side. Against fur of his own. But that’s impossible.
He turns Kenshin to run after Koual, but the player has a better knowledge of Sumaru City and how to play the game than he does, as well as a head start. He loses the kitsune in the streets, and even a couple inquiries don’t give him anything.
This won’t be the end. Not when a perfect stranger could make him feel so welcome, so at ease. Not when a perfect friend was hurting and there was something he could do. Koual’s player was in trouble, and he didn’t believe that he couldn’t help. Not until he’d at least had the chance to try.
Previously:
Seta Souji. Well, not technically, but his name didn’t sound right with Dojima as a family name instead, no matter that that’s technically his name, now. That the name Seta isn’t the shining paragon of virtue it’d been hailed as. He’d always been himself, whatever that meant, and no matter how welcoming Dojima and even shy Nanako had been, he was still the outsider.
It didn’t help that Dojima was always really awkward, to the point Souji wouldn’t have been sure he was a father if not for the girl hiding behind the detective’s legs like she was invisible. His parents were nothing like the ones he saw on TV, full of warmth and care, but until everything had gone wrong, he’d thought that had just meant they were really busy, because that’s all he’d ever known. They were busy and successful. They weren’t awkward when giving lectures or punishing him. They were perfect and soulless, but for the longest time that hadn’t worried the grey-haired teen.
Not until he’d greeted Nanako-chan like he’d greeted everyone else, with a smile and an outstretched hand. It worked on most people. He had a reason to get along with people, more of a reason the longer he’d have to spend around people. But there was no real reason to get close to anyone when he’d only know them for a few months, a year, two, and then never see them again.
He’d made that mistake early on, and had been punished for the tears and resulting tantrum. But it hurt so much. How were you supposed to hold it inside? It took a little learning, but a Seta wasn’t dull, after all, and he figured out that keeping yourself at a distance without being obvious about it was the best way to deal with the situation. You didn’t have to hurt, but you didn’t have to be alone. He’d grown to be a master, until no one knew the truth, knew how he felt.
Approval only happened for grades, for physical accomplishments. They never asked how he was getting along with kids at his school. When told by teachers that all the students liked their son, there was the faintest smile of satisfaction, but they understood, better than anyone, what it meant when he didn’t mention their names, ever. Their names didn’t matter, because they didn’t matter, because they were all the same. Only the locations changed. There was no need to overachieve when it came to socialization. He did what was expected of him, of a Seta, and nothing more. Not for that.
But he’d offered Nanako his perfect mask, and she’d shrunk from it. She’d seen through him perfectly. Dojima teased her about being shy, and from observing her from that time, it was not an invalid accusation.
He’d seen fear in her eyes. Genuine fear, a flash, just for a second, but it was enough. He was hollow, empty, a robot wearing the mask of humanity, and he’d frightened a child. Not just a child, but his new “little sis”, odd enough for a boy used to being alone. And it wasn’t as if he was staying in the Dojima household for just another year. That’s how it’d been planned before everything went wrong, and then it became something new. True, it was only two, before college, but it was his new home, and it was intended to mean more than an empty, sterile apartment in Tokyo. And when he was living with them…
…Well, perhaps, for once, it made sense to try just a little bit harder.
He let his smile slip a little when Dojima wasn’t watching, searched his soul for some genuine emotion—that was what she was looking for, right?
More than anything else, he was unsure. The world he’d known was suddenly replaced with a different model with different rules. Souji could play any game, but he had to know the rules to do so.
He couldn’t claim complete detachment, really. He liked talking to people, finding that there were so many different kinds of people with different opinions and lives. He couldn’t say it was much more than genuine curiosity, but it was there. An opportunity to learn from different people, to be someone new and different. Not that different, of course, but the smallest of word changes could have a huge impact.
The game, before now, had always been played by looking for what someone else wanted the most from you and adjusting your behavior accordingly, as much as you didn’t mind changing, anyway. In general, it hadn’t mattered, but some lines existed, even for him.
The shy smile he gets from Nanako in return is more genuine. A reaction for the database.
They walk to school together. Nanako really is adorable, but it’ll be a little while before he can state this and be fully truthful. She’s still a little wary, but she’s begun warming up. A short conversation between the two of them the night before had helped, especially as it consisted of him asking questions. She could tell that he really was interested in learning more about his new environment.
Souji Seta really is the kind of guy who likes to show up to his classes ten minutes early. He has his own system, but he doesn’t lay out every notebook and pencil in a certain place or people really will label him a perfectionist. That’s why he’s nearly panicked—though it doesn’t show on his face—when he has difficulty finding his homeroom. It’s not that hard. He hasn’t suddenly turned into an idiot by a simple move, not when it’s as normal as breathing, so why has he gotten lost in what turns out to be the Practice Building?
And then he nearly runs into a man, just when he’s nearly made it. The man’s age means that he’s part of the school’s staff, but the bunny teeth catch his attention. He’s practiced at the art of not being caught staring, though, and his eyes quickly skim up to glaring eyes.
“You! You’re the punk student tossed here to the dumps from the capital, huh?”
Souji’s sense of propriety is insulted. What sort of teacher thinks it’s perfectly professional to say something like that to a student? His eyes flash, perhaps dangerously, and he nearly opens his mouth to say something impulsive, which is something he hasn’t done in years.
“The Seta kid, huh.” It’s insulting, but compared to the last statement, it’s almost thoughtful, and it makes any comeback Souji’d have freeze in his throat.
“Y-yes, sir.” He also hasn’t stammered in years.
“Listen up, ‘cause I’m only going to say this once.” The look is derisive, scornful, and it burns in a way his parents’ stares curiously never had. “If you turn out like ‘em, either of ‘em, you’ll be out faster than a juvenile delinquent. You’ll treat the girls right, not like you’re used to in your big city of squalor. And you won’t drag this school’s grades down. Do I make myself clear?”
He hadn’t been planning to do any of those things, but the sure, grating tone has him wondering about his own intentions for a second. Then a reply, just a little bit less reckless, flashes through his mind, and he speaks his mind for the first time in years. “If you’ve read my transcript, you’ll see you don’t have to worry about my grades. Sir.”
The look doesn’t change, and for a moment Souji thinks he’s made a mistake, before a snort meets him. He’s somehow managed to amuse, just enough resistance but not enough he’ll get in trouble. For the moment, anyway.
“Get into the class and introduce yourself, Seta. And make it quick. We don’t have all day, especially not for a guy trying to give a dating resumé.” The door slides open, and Souji enters his first day of class with the shortest introduction he’s ever made. It’s somehow fitting.
Not too bad, he thinks, as he pulls out his notebook and pens, and as the homeroom teacher (“King Moron”, a girl who’s strangely not wearing the full uniform informs him with a whisper, “We’ll just have to hang in there for a year”) tries, vainly, to lecture order into the classroom.
“Where’s Yosuke?” the green-clad girl whispers to a girl in red sitting in front of her. She’s not wearing the full school uniform, either. Is that allowed? Maybe he’ll unbutton the jacket, if so. Even when it’s still spring, he has a tendency to overheat sometimes. Though perhaps not in the middle of class, if he’s not wanting to make an enemy of his homeroom teacher.
“Maybe he’s visiting Saki-senpai again?” the red girl guesses, with a soft, feminine voice.
“What, you mean that rumor was for real? That’s kind of scary…” his neighbor breathes with the slightest hint of excitement.
He’s missing some sort of crucial clue to understand the conversation, but then, he is only eavesdropping, after all.
He thinks that’ll be it for the day. Despite his horrible attitude, Morooka isn’t that bad of a teacher. He does know what he’s talking about, and Souji isn’t at all tempted to sleep. It’s…well, it’s interesting, anyway. Not that he’d give in to that urge, but it’s always easier to concentrate when he’s not fighting it off. He can’t wait to see the other teachers at the school.
And then a boy with fawn-colored hair and orange-red headphones runs into the room, breathless. Is everyone here interesting?
“What’s the meaning of this? You’re still a city boy who thinks you can get away with anything, aren’t you? This may not seem that important to you, but it’s deciding your future, and here you are, throwing it away! I better not find that you’ve been playing hooky with some girl, because let me tell you…”
Unlike Souji, this new boy found a new way to interrupt their teacher. In his haste, he tripped spectacularly on almost nothing, and things went flying haphazardly out of his messenger bag.
“I’ve got a note from the nurse’s office,” the boy groans from the floor, butt sticking up in the air. It’s not the most dignified position Souji’s ever seen, and he surprises himself with the need to stifle a laugh. “I crashed my bike this morning.”
“Well, hurry the hell up and get in your seat. You’re interrupting others’ learning and bringing down the whole class. It’s selfish and short-sighted, and…”
The kid’s not allowed to even pick up all the contents of his bag before he runs to his seat, face burning, all the while accompanied by a lecture from Morooka. The lack of professionalism still bothers the grey haired student, but it’s not the only thing. There’s snickering and a few taunts from fellow classmates, and Souji frowns. Not that it’s really his business, but is he the target of bullying?
The end of the day comes, and the girl in green leans forward to talk to the girl in front of her again. “Hey, Yukiko, you tried that thing I told you about, yet?” The blank stare is one of exhaustion, not confusion, but somehow, the girl in green misses that. She elaborates. “The thing about rainy nights.”
“Oh, sorry, I haven’t had time. I can’t be on the computer at midnight, anyway,” Yukiko answers.
“At least tell me they’re giving you a bit of time to have fun.” The girl in green looks sympathetic. The lack of an answer is answer enough. “Well, hang in there!” The hand squeeze is meant to be reassuring, but how reassuring can it really be? Souji’s never been close enough to someone to try, to find out.
The student in red quickly hurries off, and the girl in green quickly picks up her stuff. “Wait up for me, Yukiko. I don’t get to see you much, even online. At least let me walk you home!”
“You too, transfer student! Seto, was it?” the girl in green waves, friendly, and is quickly gone. She’s got some powerful legs.
Souji doesn’t correct her. He has neither the time nor the inclination. It’s not the last he’s seen of these two, nor the last he’s heard about the computers, but at the time it seems pretty innocuous.
