"Wait! What the hell are you doing?!"
Air seemed to stand still, charged with electricity. The 'gun' remained poised at Mitsuru Kirijo's temple.
What’s got into her?!Akihiko's hand twitched. Against every visceral scream of his instincts to rush forward and snatch the weapon away, he remained where he stood, feet rooted to the ground. She is not crazy; she is batshit insane!
Mitsuru’s fingers started to touch the trigger.
"DON’T—!" the boxer shouted, stretching out his hand in a last and desperate attempt to make her stop, but it was too late to prevent what was about to happen.
Instead of a tragic outcome, an ethereal chime echoed as Mitsuru’s fingers contracted around the trigger and pulled it, followed by the muffled "click" characteristic of the mechanism within the device. The machine-like sound was piercing in the stillness, yet it did not herald destruction. This 'gun' did not deal in bullets or bloodshed.
Mitsuru's posture remained unfazed, her features composed in serene resolution as the world around her seemed to inhale the tension—and then, the release; the astounding release.
In a flourish of bluish energy, an imposing figure burst forth into existence beside Mitsuru. Akihiko stood back in a startle, his eyes widened in awe. His heart hitching within his chest as the full manifestation of her will emerged: an elegant yet fearsome specter. With her iron mask and slender frame, she exuded an aura both dignified and deadly, clutching her weapons, the dagger and rapier, with graceful lethality.
"I told you, this ‘gun’ is not what appears to be. It is an Evoker," Mitsuru announced, her voice resonating with an evident sense of pride and an edge of something deeper. She looked at the specter. “Allow me to introduce you to Penthesilea”.
Akihiko heard not just the introduction, but the unspoken kinship between them, a bond spanning the realm of myth to touch the world of flesh and shadow.
His nerves were stretched thin, adrenaline still coursing through him, and he struggled to process the sight. All he could muster was a weak, incredulous chuckle. "Penthesilea, huh? Did you flip through an encyclopedia to pick a name like that?”
Mitsuru either ignored his attempted jest or didn't catch the quiver of humor through the thick air of awe. Her gaze remained steadfast on the regal entity at her side as she began to explain the gravity of what stood before them:
"Penthesilea is a Persona—my Persona," she said commandingly, turning back to him. Her eyes locked onto his. "A Persona is the full manifestation of one's psyche. Can you feel her essence, Akihiko-san?"
Is something like this also... inside me? A disbelieving breath found its way out of Akihiko's lungs, his focus divided between the spectral figure and Mitsuru's ardent gaze. "Persona," he echoed, the word still unfamiliar on his tongue. "And that... 'Evoker,'" he gestured awkwardly to the device in her hand. "You said you use it to summon it, didn’t you?"
"Yes," she nodded, her dark red hair catching a nonexistent breeze as she extended her right arm to show the tool. "The Evoker helps us confront the fear of death, to draw out our Persona. It's not a weapon to harm others or ourselves, but a tool to awaken our inner self more easily."
The silver haired fighter swallowed hard, digesting the information. Fear skirmished with fascination within him. He was out of his depth, yet the current pulling him under was not one of dread, but a gripping call to the unknown that tingled at his fingertips.
Mitsuru held her stance as the warrior-like entity by her side, Penthesilea, began to dissolve into shimmering motes of light, her existence proof of an unseen world hidden within their own. The sight was mesmerizing, a dance of light that seemed to wink at the possibilities of what lay underneath the facade of reality.
And then, as if the extraordinary had become ordinary, Mitsuru took a new Evoker out from her gym bag and offered it to Akihiko. The air thrummed with anticipatory silence.
"Your turn," she challenged, her voice a blend of command and encouragement. "Show me the embodiment of your will, Akihiko-san."
Accepting the Evoker felt like an inevitability he'd been circling since the moment he awoke to the Dark Hour, back when he was still a child. His left hand trembled as it closed around the instrument. The Evoker felt foreign in Akihiko’s grasp, a mixture of cold metal and uncharted power.
The embodiment of my will… The athletic lines of his boxer's frame tensed as he tried to emulate Mitsuru's composed elegance, aiming the device at his temple with determined bravado. His heart hammering with a rhythm akin to the moments before a fight.The same power I somehow awakened last week… With this, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
Mitsuru watched him, impassive, a silent sentinel bedecked in the stoic mantle of the Kirijo Group legacy. He believes it will be just a matter of pulling the trigger, but it’s much more than that, she mused, her experience with her own Persona analyzing Akihiko’s steps. He must confront himself to succeed.
Inhaling sharply, Akihiko pushed himself to be as unyielding as the iron he envisioned around his soul.
Let’s do this! He pulled the trigger. A click, and then...
Nothing.
What the…? No awe-inspiring manifestation, no spectral ally leaping forth—just the lingering echo of anticlimax; a dull void where he had expected a tempest.Why isn’t this working? She made it look so easy!
He tried again and again with different poses, desperation creeping into his movements, but each attempt fared no better than the last. The Evoker delivered the same sterile click, met with the same palpable absence.
Confusion burrowed into Akihiko's frown, frustration boiling beneath his skin.
How do you make this thing work?!The question gnawed at him, its answer a glaring absence in the empty space that should have been filled with power.Did she give me a broken one?
As if she had just read his mind, Mitsuru's voice broke through his unspoken turmoil. "The Evoker is perfectly operational. You’re just doing it wrong, Akihiko-san."
Akihiko glanced at Mitsuru, irritation flaring within him like a challenged opponent. "You don’t say!" he snapped, pride bruised. Despite his outward confidence, her unflappable demeanor made him feel like an amateur sparring against a champion.
The Heiress seemed unfazed by this harsh reaction.
“You must calm your mind,” she instructed, her tone deliberate. "Don’t treat the Evoker like a toy."
“I’m not fooling around!” he argued. “I’m taking this seriously!”
"’Taking it seriously’ isn’t enough," she continued, unruffled by his outburst. "You need to confront a memory, a moment of extreme emotion—pain or passion, like your encounter with that Shadow you vanquished. It is your will to live, to fight, what resonates with your Persona."
He turned away, scowling, a current of resistance running against her words. That damn Shadow is not even close to ‘that’ night…, he muttered in his thoughts, reluctant to dig through the ashy catacombs of his past for the sake of power.
But with each failed attempt, his resistance crumbled.
I guess I’ve no choice…
Eventually, giving in to the weight of his own expectations—or perhaps, to trust in Mitsuru's knowledge—Akihiko closed his eyes; the steely resolve that served as his anchor in the ring now felt like chains—binding him to a notion of strength devoid of vulnerability. With gritted teeth, he let the dam break.
The night of the fire unfurled before his eyes, vivid and merciless—the flames like hands, grabbing, pulling, consuming. The orphanage, his home, a hellish and crumbling labyrinth.
Sis!
He was there again, a boy desperate, frantic to rescue the person he loved most.
Where are you?!
He plumbed the depths of that night, the heat, the sting of smoke, the cuts that didn’t pain as much as her absence.
Just when he was losing his consciousness, a man took him to safety, not letting the fire to claim him as another victim. The unexpected hero saved Akihiko, but he was forced to leave the building with him before he could find his sister.
It was already too late to keep searching.
The boxer tasted the terrible aftermath once more—the sharp despair; the realization of his failure. A loss that carved caverns through his young heart.
NOOOOOO! A throat-tearing scream, a prayer to gods that didn't listen, the abyss of guilt that had opened beneath him—he let the memory engulf him, felt its claws rake across his spirit.
I couldn’t save her, because I was not strong enough!
With a sincerity borne of true agony, he pulled the trigger once more.
This time, the Evoker’s click melded with a resonance that throbbed in his very bones. Akihiko’s mind roared with the pain of the past, but his soul... answered with a fury all its own.
Amidst the swirl of emotion and darkened skies of the hidden hour, a surge of spectral blue erupted around him. An entity, both regal and wild, tore through the veil separating the seen from the unseen and roared into existence—a giant, bulky warrior wearing a grey combat suit and an intimidating screwdiver-like right arm; a protector forged from the depths of Akihiko’s most harrowing night.
Ethereal and mighty, the Persona stood before him—a testament to his resolve, a mirror of his inner tumult. The Persona's presence was a force, a heaviness in the air that validated Akihiko's struggle and transformed it into tangible strength.
He passed the test. Mitsuru nodded, a flicker of approval in her expression. "Well done, Akihiko-san. Now, meet your Persona."
Standing there with his newly summoned Persona, Akihiko Sanada found himself in a surreal confrontation with a reflection of his psyche. The being exuded raw strength and an imposing presence, yet there was a strangeness to its form that was undeniably peculiar. A disproportionate head, arms that hung with extra gravitas, and those flowing locks of bright blond hair—a peculiar contrast to Akihiko's own short grey strands.
A chuckle escaped his lips despite the significance of the moment. "I didn’t see the fabulous hair coming," he joked half-heartedly, his attention oscillating between the Persona's fierce eyes and its avant-garde hairstyle. "And the proportions... guess my inner self is a reflection of my poor art skills."
Mitsuru merely arched an eyebrow at his remarks, but beneath her collected exterior, there seemed to lurk a hint of amusement.
Uh? Before Akihiko could bask much longer in the victory of self-discovery, a creeping exhaustion seeped into his mind. Suddenly, the Persona began to waver, its appearance flickering like a mirage under a desert sun before dissipating entirely. He felt as if he'd gone ten rounds in the ring without a break. It was a fatigue unlike any he had known—a draining not just of the body, but of some deeper, more fundamental energy. This feels… exactly like last time…55Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYyWlauKBik
Embracing his newfound vulnerability, Mitsuru stepped forward. "What you feel is natural. Summoning a Persona requires mental fortitude. You’ll develop more psychic stamina in time, and I’ll also teach you to use it efficiently." She paused, offering a slight nod. "Regardless, your progress is commendable, Akihiko-san. You are exceeding my expectations."
Breathing heavily, Akihiko nodded, acknowledging the bridge they had crossed together. She extended a hand, not to help him regain balance, but an offer to help him rise fully into his potential.
"One more thing," Mitsuru added, her voice businesslike now. "Your Persona—it needs a name. An identity, as befits its essence."
Akihiko perked up at that but hesitated, racking his brain for a suitable moniker. Inspiration struck, and he grinned, the physical toll momentarily forgotten. "How about 'Iron Diaz'?"
“’Iron Diaz’?”
“Yeah, the nickname of Andy Diaz, the greatest featherweight champion of all time,” he clarified. It was a tribute to his favorite boxer whose agility and tenacity he had always admired.
Mitsuru's face faltered briefly, her lips pursing in evident disapproval, though whether it was due to the casual nickname or its less-than-mythological nature was unclear.
Yet, after a moment's pause, she conceded, "For now, this ‘Iron Diaz’ will suffice. But remember, the names we choose bear weight… HM?!"
Their exchange was abruptly cut short. Mitsuru's sharp intake of breath caught Akihiko's attention. Her body tensed, her gaze sharpening on an unseen point beyond him—a warrior sensing the approach of a new threat.
"Stay sharp. We're not alone."
ns 172.69.7.187da2
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