He could pretend. Pretend nothing had happened, that he wasn't different. That he hadn't fought a god. That he hadn't changed hundreds, if not thousands of lives. That he hadn't known anyone in that town and it didn't hurt. That he hadn't awakened to the being he viewed as his big brother. That he hadn't heard the gunshot that ended his love.

He could pretend as long as he wanted, but his permanent red eyes would never let him forget.

Ren Amamiya pressed his fingers to the window, not looking at the passing rice fields as much as his red-stained eyes. He was used to them being red- in the Metaverse, they'd turn crimson every time he'd summoned Arsene, but in his own world, Ren half expected to see them covered in glass and dulled down to an unnassuming black, but the gold flecks and blood-tinted eyes were there, and no perspective would change that. He'd received some strange looks from his parents, but for the time being, no direct questions. It was Arsene's mark, he decided, and he was proud to bear it, no matter what happened. Proof that he'd never be the same.

How could he be the same when Ren had seen his love murdered? For Yaldabaoth's sake, he was a part of the reason Goro Akechi had vanished! Ren shivered in the backseat, turning away from the unnassuming fields and his own guilty eyes. No, he couldn't pretend. If he did, he would forget, and forgetting was the worst crime anyone could commit.

It's unhealthy to look at the past while you still have a future. Arsene's sultry voice made him think of embers and warm covers and summer, even though the sky was dark and marbled with heavy clouds.

My future will be a dull office job, Ren said simply. He could sense his Persona's frustration at him, but really, did it matter? With no Metaverse and an inaccessible Velvet Room, Arsene was reduced to a voice in the back of his head. A conscience of sorts, but it was Ren's fault the Persona couldn't manifest anymore. One more thing he'd destroyed. Guilt weighed down on his chest, or maybe that was just Morgana.

He felt, rather than heard, Arsene sigh. I'd expect my master to have a bit more in the way of self-worth. The Metaverse was never supposed to exist, Ren. Treasure the time you had instead of wishing for more. You don't hear me complaining.

Despite his thoughts, the edge of a smile whispered across his reflection. Aren't you?

There's the Ren I know and love.

Ren shook his head and faced the window again to the sound of Morgana's impatient yowl. The blurry edges of a town could be seen in the distance, but everything else made it seem as if they hadn't moved an inch. How could Japan have so much farmland? They were on mountaintops, for Yaldaobaoth's sake!

"Mom, how much longer?" He unsuccessfully tried to keep the whine out of your voice.

She tilted her head to glance at the backseat, and Ren watched her in the window's reflection. They looked so similar, down the the curly hair and pale skin, but she was cold, harsh, angry. Just like Akechi.

"Didn't last year teach you any patience?"

It only taught him the realities of the world and the little ways he could fight them. The words threatened to spill out, maybe to even get a raised eyebrow and a doubtful look, but Ren bit it back. He mutely shrugged.

Her dark hair whipped back and vanished back to the front seat. "Another hour," Akira Amamiya huffed.

Ren's thoughts eventually went, as they always did, to the fate of Goro Akechi. Perhaps he was alive, he thought, more hoping than believing. Perhaps he'd managed to escape somehow. Futaba had felt both his life signal go out at the same time as his Shadow's, hadn't he? What if he'd hit the Meta-Nav and gone to Mementos? But, he reasoned, Akechi was almost as badly wounded as he'd been, plus he'd turned himself psychotic in a last-ditch effort to win. He wouldn't have thought of it.

But who was he to say he knew the mind of Goro Akechi?

The Detective Prince.

The silent schoolboy.

The charming Celebrity.

The broken Assassin.

So many faces, so many faces. Who knew if Ren had ever seen his true face, or if Goro didn't have one anymore?

For that matter, did he? 

His bloodred eyes wavered in the dim light as the first few droplets of water hit the window. A second later, the whine of the car was replaced with the dull roar of rain. Slivers ran down the glass, warping the light until the only thing he could see was his own gold-flecked-red eyes.

Ren turned around and looked through the back window, the thunderous sound of the rain bleeding into his mother's grumble and the whine of the windshield wipers. He could almost pretend that the crowded streets of Yongen-Jaya were just there, and everyone was waiting for him.

Just as he convinced himself, the car shuddered and stopped.

"We're home," Akira said sharply, startling him into reality. The dull, grey town matched the sky and when he looked around, it was exactly how he remember. Boring. Ren wished himself home in Yongen-Jaya, and pretended Goro was next to him, his hair tied back and his dead eyes finally sparkling. He wrapped himself in that desire and took a breath, then stepped out of the car.

Welcome home, Ren, he told himself as he stared at the grey apartment and Arsene- the epitomy of excitement and hope- started cursing like a sailor. He tightened his hand around Goro's and opened the door.

Welcome home.

---

anyways, first chapter of my first Persona 5 story! I'll do my best, and try to update weekly, but I make no promises. Don't worry, I actually have a plot for this, and it's based off a song my friend sent me. It's at the top. By the way, I don't own Persona 5 or the plot of it, and especially not the beautiful pictures in teh banner(not a good banner) or the cover, but this epilogue is something I've been thinking of for a while. The story shouldn't be too long, but I hope you enjoy!

Robin out!