The photograph felt as though it were a solid block of ice resting in my hand. The cheerful yet mundane sounds that filled the dormitory—Junpei's laughter echoing from the common room, the soft hum of the television in the background—began to warp and distort in my perception, transforming into a distant and mocking soundtrack that accompanied the cold fury crystallising deep within my chest.
My father is a significant figure in my life. My father had been specifically targeted by them.
The spiralling red symbol represented more than merely a threat. What occurred was undeniably a violation. They had pulled into our shadow war the quiet, weary man who had raised me amidst a house filled with unspoken secrets. He had become a variable within the confines of their nihilistic equation.
I found myself standing completely still in the hallway, the paper quivering in my grasp. The Entity residing within me, once a tranquil and profound ocean, began to stir with a subtle yet undeniable movement.
Not with the tumultuous fury that characterised earlier moments, but rather with a chilling, concentrated intensity that commands attention. It acknowledged this fact. This was not merely a battle of concepts.
This represented a clear and unequivocal challenge to its vessel. A significant danger to the very foundation of its present reality. The ancient, custodial presence regarded my father as an integral component of the very structure it was entrusted to safeguard and maintain.
To launch an attack against him was to strike at the very foundation of the order he upheld.
"Kaito?"
Mitsuru's voice carried a distinct edge of worry, resonating with a palpable sense of concern. As she stepped out of the command room, her gaze instantly fixated on the piece of paper I held in my hand. With three swift strides, she made her way across the hall, her composure beginning to fracture as her eyes fell upon the image before her.
Her complexion drained of colour. "Could you tell me when this arrived?"
"At this very moment, below the door." My voice was deep and strained.
She took the photograph from my hands, her fingers lightly touching mine. Her touch, which was often a source of comfort, now seemed like a link to something electric and alive. Her jaw tightened, and there was a brief glimpse of something threatening—not fear, but the anger of a Kirijo—in her eyes.
"This is not acceptable," she said, her voice becoming a low, angry whisper. "They have gone too far."
She did not wait for anyone to reply. She turned around and walked into the common room, holding the photograph up high. "Everyone, now."
The relaxed vibe disappeared. Junpei's smile faded away. Yukari stopped the TV, and her smile turned into a look of worry. Akihiko, after finishing the polishing of a pair of gloves, placed them aside and stood up, his body tensing with anticipation. Makoto looked up from his book, his grey eyes observing the scene with a calm and clear understanding.
"What's up, Prez?" Junpei asked, his voice unusually low.
Mitsuru placed the photo on the coffee table. The spiral symbol appeared to pulse in the room's light. "Strega has announced a new challenge. "They are after Tanaka's father."
The room filled with a collective intake of breath.
"Those scaredy-cats!" Yukari gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
Junpei struck his palm with a fist. "Using somebody's family? That's low, even for them!"
Akihiko looked serious. "It's a sensible decision. They've found a key pressure point. They realise they can't win against him in a direct confrontation, so they're attempting to distract him. To touch his feelings. Careless."
His thoughtful comments were a nice change of pace. He was correct. This was a trap made just for my mind. They wanted the bomb to explode.
"What's the plan?" Akihiko enquired, his eyes locked on Mitsuru.
Everyone looked at her. The person in charge. The planner.
Mitsuru looked at all of us and then focused on me. "We need to respond in two ways. First, we make sure Mr. Tanaka is safe right away. I will send a Kirijo security team to watch over and keep him safe. In a subtle way. We won't allow them to trap us."
She grabbed the photograph, her face becoming serious. "Second, we will not play their game. We do not rush to the location they undoubtedly want us to go. We use their aggression against them. We take advantage of this opportunity to locate their primary base and bring this to a close."
She had a brilliant plan. Cold, rational, and ruthless. It was a perfect Kirijo response.
But that wasn't enough.
The cold fury in my chest refused to be quenched by logic. The image of my father's face, marked with that symbol, was burned into my retinas. This was not a strategic variable. This is my father.
"No."
The word was quietly spoken, but it cut through the room like a knife. Everyone looked at me.
Mitsuru's eyes opened slightly. "Kaito?"
"A security detail isn't enough," I said, my voice gaining strength I hadn't realised it possessed. The Entity's cold focus seeped into my words. "They are not thugs. They are Persona users. A few men in suits will not deter Takaya. They'll simply be more casualties."
I stepped forward, my gaze fixed on Mitsuru's. "He is my responsibility. I will not use him as bait in your strategy. I am going to him. Now."
"That is precisely what they want you to do!" Mitsuru's composure finally broke, revealing a flash of fear and frustration in her eyes. "This is a trap! They'll be waiting! They will turn your emotional state against you!"
"I get it!" I shot back, the emotion I was supposed to suppress rushing to the surface. "But what are the alternatives? We sit here waiting for them to take him? To cause him harm? Mitsuru, I cannot do that! I'm not a machine that can simply calculate the best outcome! "He is my father!"
The room was completely silent. The unspoken conflict between the leader and the person she cared for was revealed.
Akihiko looked between us with a conflicted expression. Junpei and Yukari were frozen and unsure.
Makoto spoke up, his calm voice serving as a buffer in the tense standoff.
"He's correct."
We both turned to face him.
"The trap has been set." "They expect one thing," Makoto stated, his gaze level. "If we do nothing, they will win. They demonstrate that we are powerless. If we do what is expected, they will win. They receive an emotional, reckless Kaito." He looked at me and then at Mitsuru. "We can win if we do something unexpected and plan ahead of time."
He was bridging the divide. Recognising my need to act while tempering it with Mitsuru's need for strategy.
Mitsuru closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. When she opens them, we will not act recklessly; instead, we will conduct ourselves with a new perspective.
"You're right," she admitted, her voice soft. "My initial response was... clinical. I apologise. He is not a resource. "He's part of your family."
She straightened her shoulders and had a new, determined look in her eyes. "All right. We will depart. But we're going together. Every one of us. Not as a reckless charge, but as a full-fledged tactical extraction. We retrieve your father and transport him to a secure Kirijo safehouse."
"If Strega reveals their faces..." Her voice became icy. "...we end this."
Relief washed over me, making my knees weak. She didn't fight me. She was battling for me.
"Thank you," I said softly.
She made a sharp nod. "Akihiko, please prepare the van. Yukari and Junpei are fully combat-ready. Makoto, you are with us. We will move in five minutes."
The dorm erupted in a flurry of organised activity. As the others scattered to prepare, Mitsuru put his hand on my arm, preventing me from following.
"Kaito," she said softly and urgently. "Hear me out. I understand how scared you are. I understand how angry you are. But when we're out there, you must be the Warden. No, not the son. Your father's life is more under your control than ever before. Can you accomplish that? "Can you be the calm in the storm for him?"
I looked into her eyes and saw the fear she felt for me, my father, and all of us. I placed my hand over hers, and the connection kept us both steady.
"I can," I said, the Entity's cold focus and my own burning determination combining into a single, unbreakable purpose. "To him, I can be anything."
The five-minute wait seemed like an eternity. When we piled into the black, unmarked Kirijo van, the air was thick with tension. We were no longer simply SEES going on a mission. We were a family going to war to protect one of its members.
As the city lights blurred past the window, I concentrated on my breath. In, out. I reached for the Entity, not as a separate force, but as the source of my own desire to protect.