Arsene, you awake?

Now I am, the Persona mumbled groggily. Leave me alone.

And why would I do that? Ren teased.

Arsene growled. Shall I rephrase that? The threat in his voice- namely to make his life a living hell for the next few days- was unmistakable, so he did what any sane being would do.

I don't know, shall you?

Piss him off. Just because he could.

Arsene cussed him out, telling him to go away in increasingly rude and creative ways before passing out again. He'd been sleeping a lot that day, but while Ren had a few ideas on why he was so tired, he decided it was better to wait before solidifying any theories. 

He woke up again with a yelp of pain as both their heads throbbed. Ren hissed, breaking focus. Ever since he'd woken up, he was sure Arsene had found hammers of some sort and was playing a trigger-happy game of whack-a-mole inside his skull. The last time that'd happened was last week, and if this was going to become common, he'd need to have some words with Arsene. Preferably including putting a gag on him.

The headache was probably more because he'd spent the last two hours getting tossed around on cement. And was currently in said two hours, and was probably about to get killed.

On cue, a heavy mass answering to the name of Okami Amamiya's Fist(of Death) slammed him in the gut, followed up by a kick to the chest. The second sent Ren tumbling, ending with a backroll to his feet.

"Keep your focus!" the Wolf snapped, already striking again. His father was fast- so fast, that he could take on a whole pack on his own and come out on top. Lucky him, Ren thought to himself as he predicted attack after attack and employed every evasive tactic he knew, that he got to train with such a master. Unfortunately, the methods used: mostly getting put on his back, told to get back up, and... what was it that his father always said? Oh, yes: suffer quietly. That was always fun.

The Wolf wasn't predictable in the slightest, but after years of training, he'd learned to expect anything, so his defense-coupled with some of the dirtier tricks he'd learned in Mementos- was nearly perfect.

Ren said nearly because the moment he backflipped another Okami Amamiya Fist (of Death) he was suddenly grabbed out of air and found himself on a rather short and painful flight. The Wolf snarled as Ren landed on all fours, his bare hands and feet digging into the harsh concrete. He felt his ears pricking up at the sound, and he felt a snarl of his own rumbling in his throat.

In an instant, the Wolf was leaning on the wall beside him. He looked down his nose at him, and Ren pushed away his anger. Again. "You're not trying."

Ren was pretty sure he was trying. Trying to not get hit, at least. If it were any other person he was talking to, he might've said it, but there was no disrespecting the Wolf. Not unless he wanted an extra hour of getting killed. "Sir," he mumbled, already on his feet.

"Do you remember what I told you last week?"

Ren remembered each of their conversations, for better or worse- likely the worse. He nodded. "Prove your ideals," he quoted, doing his best to keep the telltale sarcasm out of his voice.

The Wolf's expression told him it didn't work. "Have you any proof? You speak of living as you wish, yet here you are." He didn't have to say the rest for Ren to understand. Here you are. In a small town. Being beat up. Being called a freak. Waiting around for his future in a cold, bloody office building to slap him. That was his destiny if Ren stayed in Jamestown, and he was sure Okami was convinced he wouldn't be able to avoid it.

He hadn't been prepared for this, Ren knew. The Wolf was a predator, and he fed on weakness. Naturally, he'd strike where he was weakest. So why hadn't he thought to prepare just a little?

Arsene, help me out. Ren wasn't above begging in certain situations, namely those when he was basically arguing with himself.

The Persona woke up briefly, enough to read the situation. Your problem, he yawned, then lapsed back to his peaceful unconscious world.

He really needed to do something about Arsene. Preferably to, involving something along the lines of the Velvet Room and a certain electric chair.

But for now, he needed to say something good enough to satisfy the predator, while cementing his stance on the matter for future arguments- minefields, really.

"Yeah," Ren said.

A true wordsmith in the making, wasn't he?

The Wolf raised an eyebrow and slunk closer. "Tell me." His copper eyes glittered wickedly. "Did you speak and fight this way when you defeated Yaldabaoth, Joker?"

Ren growled low. He heard his pulse roar and he made a conscious effort to keep himself from lunging. He had no desire to be a bloody slab by the end of the day. "I didn't," he managed. Doing his best to be at least a little more civil, he added something that suddenly struck him. "How do you-"

"The Metaverse has been around for far longer than you think." The Wolf took a step back, allowing him space. Ren's guard went up.

But, as always, curiosity went first. Ren was trained since he could walk to tolerate pain of the physical kind by his father. He could handle a few more hits before he started regretting his life choices. "Sir, do you have a Persona?"

"Fenrir is hereditary," Okami dismissed. 

Unlikely, but he'd accept that answer for now.

He watched Ren with a terrifying stillness like a coiled wire. Ren did the same. "Back to the issue at hand; you rely too much on your Persona, who is no longer able to manifest. It makes you weak."

He sensed Arsene wake with a start. Ren swallowed his fury and pretended he'd misheard.

"Weak," his father repeated, breaking his stillness to pace circles around him. Ren never let him out of sight. He'd paid the price when he was young, fooled again and again until he learned to stay aware. "You relied on your friends; you relied on your Personas; and in the end you relied on a force that you could not control. That makes you weak and foolish."

Ren took the verbal blow, patiently keeping the walls around his mind up. He would not be baited. He would not be pulled into another blind rage. "I will not fight a battle I will lose. I am a Thief."

"Of course." The Wolf smiled and he felt a stab in the stomach, most likely his idiocracy trying to escape. He'd been foolish enough to be trapped. But then, he reminded himself, every inch of the Wolf was built to trap. Or kill. "And so is your Persona." He pretended to think, but Ren could see the violent amusement building up in his copper eyes. "Arson, was it?"

"Arsene," Ren corrected sharply, angrily.

Ren, his Persona warned. His Japanese became slightly accented, rougher syllables molding together. It's alright.

How can it be alright? he demanded. He insulted you?

Arsene's voice softened. Anything he says, it cannot be worse than what I believed before we were bonded.

The words shielded him from the next few attacks, each aimed with precision at his weak points. Well, point.

"Arsene," he mused, turning the word over in his mouth. "I believe I saw him once. Feathery wings, hiding behind a mask of sorts... perhaps some chains, too? He was chosen for you, was he not?" He allowed Ren no chance to respond, to defend, before delivering the killing blow. "Arsene Lupin is as weak as you, and twice as cowar-"

The Trickster snapped.

In an instant, Ren slammed his weight into his knees, dropping the Wolf. The Wolf thrashed, but it was easy enough to pin him at the throat. He vaguely smelled spice, coffee, and the more familiar tang of blood as his father's nails dug into his wrist. Ren balled his left hand and slammed it where he knew his ribs would be. The Trickster was rewarded with a sharp gasp, but no scream. Not yet. His vision pulsed red until that was nearly all he could see. The Wolf had made the biggest damn mistake of his life.

Okami Amamiya could insult him all he wanted, but Ren had limits. They answered to the names Arsene Lupin and Goro Akechi.

Ren leaned forward, digging his knee into his father's manhood and bringing his lips- and more importantly, teeth- to his ear. In that moment, he was every inch the Alpha he'd been raised to be before he was arrested.

"Never," he growled. "Never say that about Arsene, or I'll tear you apart." He put more pressure on his knee. "Starting with that."

Instead of any fear, as most would expect from a man who was threatened with death and loss of his favorite body part, Ren felt a chuckle rumble from his father's chest.

"There's the monster," he laughed.

Ren, stop. Arsene sounded on edge.

His red-tinted world, still crazed with fury, flooded with images of Yongen-Jaya's backstreets and the scent of ash. His hand began to glow black and red, and he readied himself to shove his fist straight through his skull.

That's enough!

"Is this your justice?" Okami asked. He was utterly calm, unfazed by the shifting world and the flickering, bloody claws at his throat. "Is this your proof?"

It's alright, Ren. Arsene's voice shook, but he saw the Persona's smiling mask and sensed his tired acceptance. He's right. I am a coward, and weak. It's fine.

"No," Ren gasped out. His grip on the Wolf's throat loosened. "Don't say-"

Just like that, it was over. The world turned back to ash. His back slammed against the ground, head snapping against the concrete hard enough to leave him reeling. Ren's headache returned full force, and in the back of his mind, he was now convinced that Arsene was playing whack-a-mole with his skull.

Okami sat on his chest, arms crossed. "The world is not as civilized as they'd have you believe," he said. "Fight it as much as you want... but everyone is the same." He tapped the skin over Ren's heart. His claws scraped the skin. "Remember that feeling."

Ren shoved him off, caring little for respect and even less for the punishment that had to be coming next. "I will live how I wish," he growled. "You can't hold me down."

Okami shrugged, already prowling off to the house. The feeling that he'd lost something pricked at him and his already-boiling temper exploded. "You can't face the world itself." He chuckled deep in his chest. "Not this one."

He sensed Arsene's heavy exhaustion a moment before he said, That was handled rather poorly.

Really? His vision flashed red again. Says the one who called himself a coward! Why would you say that about yourself?

Because it is true?

You say that about yourself again, Ren threatened, marching back into the house, And I will... He hadn't thought that far. Uh... sic Morgana on you?

I'm petrified, Arsene said dryly.

He huffed, slamming the door to his room hard enough to rattle the hinges, earning a yell from his mother. Since she wasn't charging out of her room to yell at him, he assumed she had company. After all, Akira was still young and beautiful, or so he was told.

Just tell me, he said, suddenly feeling drained. He opened the red windows so the sun's last rays could find their way into his disaster of a room.

Silence.

Please, Ren said, loathing the word. Both the Thief and the Trickster hated employing the word, but it was effective enough to warrant a last-ditch effort. Arsene, I'm really tired. Just- please.

I had to make you say 'no,' Arsene relented. You were going to kill him, but I attempted to make you refute that way of thinking. He sounded vaguely embarrassed. It seems I only angered you... but you hesitated. Enough so that your victim could escape-

Victim? Ren roared. He slammed his fist against the wall, barely feeling the pleasure or pain as his knuckles split. He couldn't sit still- was still raging at the way his own Persona had agreed with the Wolf's taunts. Arsene, he called you a coward! Why would you defend him?

Because you were in the wrong, his Persona said quietly. It warranted a scuffle at best, but not his death.

He seethed, unable to find an outlet to throw all his strength at. He needed to bleed, to see that he was causing damage to something-

'In times of peace, the warlike man attacks himself,' Arsene quoted. It's over. Just leave it be.

You called yourself a coward. Ren couldn't damn focus. Everything was red around him, bloody and ashy, rotten flesh staining the air with its stench. His head hurt.

I did. Arsene sounded sad. It's fine, Ren. When I became a Persona, I believed I was, and then I was always upset. But I don't hate myself anymore. Besides, he added, Sir was trying to bait you.

He had a point, the rational part of him knew. The other part of him rared for death and crushing someone's bones, namely either Okami or Reug. Perhaps the unfortunate male in the room over.

Arsene snickered to himself. You'll catch him with his pants down.

Quite literally, Ren added, and Arsene started laughing. Dirty, dirty Persona, but he made Ren smile.  He took a breath, finally willing to calm down, and watched the last glimpse of the sun vanish over a dead town. In his mind, Arsene yawned, and he sensed his consciousness fade.

Well, he was either dead or asleep. Fifty-fifty.

Ren frowned at his bloody fist, then at the numerous scratches and cuts on him. He was dripping red all over his drawings, and if he didn't at least bandage the hand, he would likely bleed on the Days, too.

The Tricker slipped the Days- a collection of letters, really, but definitely worth the dramatic name- from his box under his bed, and picked a new sheet stained a marbled gold.

How should he start this letter?

Dear- no, that would imply they were close when Goro was alive. Goro had given him a taste of his true self, and it was that- the rare glimpses of violent words and cold remarks and laughs that made Goro's shoulders shake- that he'd fallen for. But Goro had never given any indication he had an attraction to him; in fact, he'd said the opposite after their duel in Mementos. 

To Goro Akechi,

It has been 115 days since you vanished. There's little to report, but I hope, wherever you are, that your days are eventful. Preferably in an actual fun place and not the hell I'm in, but I have a feeling that you'd love my hell. You'd probably like torturing Reug, that rat bastard.

Lets both hope the week passes quickly and uneventfully, so Death will keep his promise and we may see each other again.

Ren.

He felt exhaustion setting in as he finished his doodle of a broadsword. Ren set the newest addition on the stack and carefully placed them back in the box. He looked over the contents once, making sure nothing was missing.

Inside was the Days, a journal filled with drawings, a stack of tarot cards, three pictures (Goro when he finally gave a real smile,) and a set of carefully wrapped knives. They were an exact replica of his Metaverse weapons, a gift from Iwai- Hanged Man- before he'd left. With these and the world at his fingertips, he would get Goro Akechi back.

He only had to hold on.

---

Chapter.... complete!

Okay, so anyone know that quote I put in? "In times of peace, the warlike man attacks himself?" I've heard my father say that before, but  I forgot who said it. So for your reading pleasure, I looked it up. And UGH ITS SO HARD TO FIND A STRAIGHT ANSWER but its by Nietzsche, whoever that is. Or whatever. I hate sounding ignorant, but I honestly have no idea about it. 

Anyways, yall figure out what Jamestown is? 

Fun fact, the actual hometown is Inaba, which I MIGHT have only realized yesterday... can we not talk about that, please?

Other than that, thank you so much for choosing my fanfic to read! Please comment on whatever I can make better with my writing (grammar included) or what you liked!

And to my ghost readers, every view means my book's being read by one more person. If you don't feel comfortable commenting, that's fine, but still, a big thank you.

And definite thank you to Erinisafangirl6 and akitheawkwardbean! You guys are great!

Word count: 2660

Thank you for reading! 

Robin out!