#ive always wondered how healing works in the persona world do they get to home with scars? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shibyn · 5 years

Text

and the wind sounds like the world’s sigh

persona 4 & 5 | shiho-centric, investigation team Near the end of May, Shiho transfers to a sleepy town called Inaba for a fresh start. However, Inaba isn’t the sleepy town her parents thought would be best for her— its on edge with unsolved mysteries, and Shiho finds that there’s a bit more behind what meets the eye regarding some of her classmates and a TV screen.

chapter 3 | 5.7k | ao3

She doesn't know if she's envious or glad for them.

Maybe she's envious because her teammates weren't given the same slack. Not in the slightest. She wonders if Yui's arm was set properly, or if Inuoka's shoulder healed fully. She wonders if any of them can be in the gymnasium without feeling a phantom ache in their joints. Wonders if any of them are better now that he's been shipped off to jail. Wonders if they can still play volleyball and still be able to breathe.

She realizes very quickly there is very little to do in Inaba. Not for the first time and certainly not the last, Shiho longs for Tokyo. She doesn't think a lifetime spent in Tokyo would be enough time to do everything there. The city's always bustling, always changing, always growing-- there's always something new, something to try. Ann was there, too, always bounding by her side, leading her to a new place to go to. Inaba has a river, a shrine, an inn, and a market. There are plenty of mom-and-pop stores, plenty of tiny businesses that take up a sixteenth of a street block. In a week, Shiho has already scoured through nearly all of them. It's probably something her parents overlooked, too. They're restless, itching for more motion and more activity and just more than what this tiny place offers. They're no different from her-- they lived in Tokyo longer than she's been alive, and they've been through the growth of Tokyo. There's no way they don't long for the gray and musty streets over the clear and small roads here at least every now and then. They're making friends with the locals, because that's all there really is to do. They get jobs, her mom at an antique shop, her dad a carpenter. Maybe they're getting used to the rural air, maybe not-- she wonders if they've considered moving back to Tokyo once she's graduated and shipped off to a college, or if they'll come to like this place and live here from now on. They find their own ways to burn the day away. It unluckily lines up with the time Shiho has school, and they're home whenever she gets to the house. In the late afternoon, their house is quiet even though there are people in it. She wonders what her parents think when she gets home later and later, purposely avoiding being in a house where guilty gazes weigh down on her shoulders, the tension in the air that makes her suffocate. With little to do in Inaba, she very quickly runs out of things to keep her occupied while she prolongs the time she gets home. There's only so much a friendless, penniless teenager could do. Maybe she could get a job to get money and to take up time, or maybe even join a club at school, but then it'll tie her down to this place. Frequently, she wishes Ann was here. She'd be able to make the best of this place. Even with the cheerful chatter and encouraging words from the near-constant buzzing of her phone, it will never match up to being actually with her. She's a little envious of Ryuji and Akira, who get to see her daily. She's glad they're friends. More often than not, she ends up hanging around the school grounds. She's already gone through the town, but she doesn't have money of her own, and she doesn't want to deal with the off-chance she'll come across her parents in public. It's past the end of the day, and the other students head off to club activities or to head home. Usually she's left in peace. She finds some place to burn time in-- usually its the library (she finally found it-- it was on the second floor this whole time, she just passed it by mistake), where few students linger in after hours and even fewer try to speak to her. Other students still keep trying to talk to her, and she knows she should try to act like a normal person and respond properly, but her tongue feels like gauze when she opens it and her stomach sinks because she can't even act like she wants to be here. The library gives her the solitude she needs from the other students, but it's also too quiet, too soundless, too similar to the home she's avoiding, and it closes a couple hours earlier than the school does. So then she wanders around until she knows its safe to enter town without seeing her parents, or until school closes. Around this time, very little students are around, the only ones being in clubs or practice for sports. She can wander without interruption until her legs begin to ache, the pain beneath her kneecaps too strong, and usually ends up sitting on a bench until they decide to work like how she wants them to. She wears the knee brace. It makes no damn difference whether or not she wears it-- the weather and the hills are a killer combo. She only wears it because her parent asked it of her. She'd rather go without it, even though she knows she wouldn't be able to move as much as she is, because her classmates will peer at it and she can see the questions on the tips of their tongues. She rubs her knee absently. The sky's clear for the most part, spotted with occasional clouds. The bench she ended up on has a clear view of the practice building and the lot in front of it, one that the Soccer team is using for a practice game. Some seem dearly invested in their little game, some don't. Something settles heavy in her gut. It's something like dread, an itch-- it's not a good feeling, and she shifts restlessly to quell it. They're... They're not trying. Won't their coach be angry that they're not trying--? She looks around, but there's no coach scrutinizing the players. No coach barking out orders that are do or die. They're allowed to slack. A breath leaves her in a rush, one she didn't realize she was holding. She doesn't know if she's envious or glad for them. Maybe she's envious because her teammates weren't given the same slack. Not in the slightest. She wonders if Yui's arm was set properly, or if Inuoka's shoulder healed fully. She wonders if any of them can be in the gymnasium without feeling a phantom ache in their joints. Wonders if any of them are better now that he's been shipped off to jail. Wonders if they can still play volleyball and still be able to breathe. But maybe she's glad-- they don't have to experience what Shujin volleyball players went through. She's glad some of them look like they're enjoying what they're doing. There's claps on the backs, encouraging shouts, beaming grins. She wishes those were a part of the volleyball practices she was in, but finds that she's glad someone else can enjoy themselves. — Ann [7:43 P.M.] u remember that time u said my art was shit Shiho [7:43 P.M.] you never let me forget Ann [7:43 P.M.] :/ ANYWAYS i think ive gotten better being around yusuke has like,, helped me realize im better than u say Shiho [7:44 P.M.] we were seven of course you were awful Ann [7:44 P.M.] STILL!! Shiho finds herself rolling her eyes. Yusuke was a recent addition to Ann's mismatched group of friends-- an eccentric artist who goes to Kousei rather than Shujin. It's a wonder how they met, more-less even meet up outside of school. She's glad there's another to the list of Ann's friends-- even if it was a bit rocky in the start, if what Ann's told her is true. The neighborhood is quiet for the most part. Well. It's always quiet, really. But it's particularly silent today-- absently, she realizes that she's coming home later than she usually would. The daylight's already waning, and people have already retreated home for dinner. She wonders if she's missed dinner herself. Her parents haven't said much about how late she's been getting home. She doesn't know if they think she's in a club or something, or if they know she's just loitering instead of coming home. They don't say much to her these days. She's not sure if they've finally gave up on idle awkward conversations or not. Shiho [7:44 P.M.] is his overflowing creativity influencing you?? Ann [7:44 P.M.] hopefully maybe ill send u a nice ole portrait, yeah? Shiho [7:45 P.M.] it better be done in glitter pens or I dont want it!! The house isn't quiet when she steps in. The TV is on for once, after a week of frustrating difficulty with hooking it up properly. There's the sound of dishes moving in the kitchen, clinking of porcelain on the counters, and ah. She hasn't missed dinner. "Is that you, Shiho?" her mom calls out. She peering down the hall and directly spots her, standing in the foyer uncertainly. "Welcome back. We're having japchae." "Ah. Alright," Shiho says absently. Japchae's a sit down meal in this household. She can't escape to her room with a bowl of it-- she'll be stuck at the table. She feels guilty with the way her shoulders tense and her legs don't move, because family dinner shouldn't stress her out this much. You're worrying over nothing, she thinks forcefully, and quietly takes off her shoes and sets down her bag. Both of her parents are in the kitchen, her dad working on the setting the table, her mom with the japchae. They're seemingly content, weaving around each other and keeping pace in a conversation. They like this kitchen much more than their old one-- much more space, apparently, and the countertops are a lot prettier than the dull tan of the old apartment. She feels out of place, standing there, so she takes a seat even though she's antsy. In no time, everything is set out on the table. Her parents sit across from each other, and she's stuck in the middle of them. The TV's volume has been lowered at some point, to a level that it's just a background noise that keeps the house from being overwhelmed by silence. It's quiet at the table, though the dishes move and clink, and brief words of 'can you pass me the plate' and 'do you want seconds,' its quiet. There's no continuation of the conversation they were having in the kitchen earlier, even though it seemed like it could span on longer from what she could hear of it. Shiho's skin prickles at the silence, cause it's not exactly tense-- it's more calculating, more waiting for the proper time to speak and not seem off about it. She wishes that eating her food quick wouldn't be seen as rude, or as a way to escape. "So, how's school been, kiddo?" Her dad starts, breaking the ice. He actually makes eye contact with her. He doesn't glance away, avert his eyes-- it throws her off. There's very little guilt in his eyes, the kind that she's seen so much of in the past month. She can't tell if this conversation is genuine, or if he feels bad for not talking to her as much as a parent should. Shiho feels her phone buzz in her pocket. It's probably Ann. She breathes in. "Like... Like how school normally is, I guess. Not interesting?" Her mom blinks at her. "So you haven't had any problems catching up?" Two months. She missed two months of school. (Her life, too). It's two months of stuff for all of her classes-- and the curriculum is different here. It would be basically starting from scratch. She struggled, and is still struggling-- it takes a lot to cram so much stuff missed into the time she has, and on top of that, learn what's being taught at the moment. She hasn't told them she's basically given up on catching up. "Not really," she smiles something sheepish, something not really a smile. It'll work out most likely. She'll just have to cram more for the exams. "Just a little splotchy, I guess. There's a few things here that they learned that they didn't teach at Shujin." "Ah. Have you asked for help from classmates or teachers?" Her mom questions. She's paused from eating. Not a good sign. She wants to have a conversation, now that she's got Shiho trapped under obligation for family dinners. She debates lying. She's kept away from talking with anyone at school. It doesn't feel right to-- she doesn't exactly want to see their faces shift ever so slightly when she asks, coming something closer to pity towards her. She doesn't want to start, because then they'll come across the face that she doesn't know all that much anymore, and they'll ask why, and she cannot. Cannot. Let any of these students know of why she left Shujin. But her parents know she's been getting back late. They might want her to come home earlier to study more if she says she's avoided getting help. "Sometimes," she settles with. It's an answer that'll keep them from pushing. The atmosphere shifts. She doesn't know if its for better or for worse, or if her parents are coming onto something. The dining table feels more like an interrogation table, and she just wishes that it wasn't rude to get up, clean her dishes, and flee. "Have you joined any clubs, yet? Maybe considered any?" her dad prompts, because her mom is gnashing her teeth quietly, maybe trying to see if there was any underlying context or hints in her single word response. They know she can't play sports anymore. They know. It's a blaring reminder on the forefront of their mind, every breathing second they look at her, because they see the old bruises and bandages and the leg brace when they didn't see before. They also know she can't paint, she can't sing, she can't act, she can't play an instrument, she can't do much of anything except volleyball and that had been torn from her hands. "Um, no, not... not really," Shiho trails. She sees the question between the lines in bold text. Why are you coming home so late. They know she doesn't have anything to do. She doesn't have Ann here. There's nothing in town to do. She's not in a club, she doesn't have a job. They probably have the sneaking suspicion she doesn't have friends, either. She doesn't know if they're blaming themselves for that. Her phone buzzes again, quietly, like a reassurance. She tries to harbor the confidence Ann has for her. "I've. I've been helping around the school n stuff." Her mouth tastes like ash. She hasn't. She hasn't given Yasogami more thought that it deserves. "Kinda... y'know, helping organize the library." If you stretch it till its paper thin, you could possibly call it a truth. Occasionally she'll pick up an left behind book and put it back where it belongs. She really only sits and burns time in the library rather than voluntarily go out and help around. But its so far from what she's saying, and her knuckles creak on the edge of her seat. "Ah, so a library helper!" Her mom latches onto this, eyes twinkling. Shiho smiles sheepishly. "Sure. Yeah. Somewhat." All she can taste is ash, and she tries to eat some more, but it tastes like nothing. It's good to lie sometimes, right? Some lies are good. White lies. Her parents have been so cautious around her-- she doesn't think she can handle them if she was truthful. She doesn't think she can handle their gentle words, their encouragements, their earnest pleas of please try because she can't help simmering on the idea that they're only trying so hard to make up for when they overlooked bruises that couldn't have come from just volleyball practice. To make up for not realizing that one morning she planned on not returning home that day. The rest of dinner fades into the back of her mind. Her dad starts talking about his old job as a librarian years ago, and her mom bounces back with stories of her own. She eats absently, her arms and legs and body so heavy with the brush of guilt. After washing the dishes, she leaves politely, having dipped out of the conversation a while ago. Her legs ache when she goes to her room and flops onto her bed. For a moment, she just lies there, letting her nerves settle into something manageable. She mourns for the time she could eat peacefully with her parents. She pulls her phone out absently. The case is peeling. She might need a new one soon. Ann [7:45 P.M.] as if i would draw with anything else that's not glitter u insult me jfjlsdfj just got takoyaki its crazy good ill drag u here to get some its?? not greasy enough to kill my appetite for once !! Shiho [8:01 P.M.] sorry had to eat damn who convinced you to eat takoyaki usually you'd look at me like i was asking ya to die if i suggested it :// Ann [8:01 P.M.] yusuke wanted to try some dude only eats cup noodles, can u believe it!! i feel like... completely obligated to expand his horizons Shiho [8:02 P.M.] holy shit only cup noodles? how has he not died of sodium?? Ann [8:02 A.M.] art jesus might be lookin down on him well maybe not he aint doing a good job keeping yusuke from spending all his goddam money on art. supplies thats the only reason he really eats cup noodles he broke i might have to teach him the ways of budgeting Shiho [8:02 P.M.] ah yes you takamaki ann the one who most definitely does not spend all of her allowance on clothes the day she gets it Ann [8:02 P.M.] why cant u let me dream — Maybe the best part about being quiet and fading into the background is that she learns a lot about the people around her. She knows her seat mate plays clarinet and really sucks at science, the boy in the front row two from the window works with his parents at an old liquor store and may or may not have brought some to school, the buzzcut boy who comes in during lunch to eat with the boy directly in front of her is crushing hard on a third year and plans on asking her out, and the girl with the red cardigan in the middle row is the daughter of Amagi Inn and was missing for a week just last month. She seems fine and dandy for having been missing. Shiho doesn't know if she can take it as a sign that Tatsumi Kanji will be found and be okay-- if she's fine, he might be too, right? It doesn't help that in the same line of conversation she's listening in on she learns of two recent murders of a news reporter and a student at Yasogami. With the way people of Inaba are so gossip-y, she's kinda surprised and alarmed she didn't hear about this from day one. She only learned of Tatsumi from a policeman-- would she have never heard of him if it weren't for that encounter? And-- the policeman didn't say anything about the murders. She personally thinks that would be the number one thing to tell people, especially those who just moved there, that yes, there was most definitely someone going around Inaba killing and kidnapping people. Two murders and two missing cases. Nothing happens here-- shouldn't that be the talk of the town or something? Maybe everyone was so used to each other that they just couldn't believe that someone decided to turn a new leaf and go nuts, or they're all just very good at acting like there was nothing disrupting their quiet routine of the countryside. Shiho wonders if her parents are even vaguely aware of this. They-- they have to be, right? They talk with the townsfolk much more than she does. It could be that the reason Shiho didn't know was because she just doesn't talk to people. But-- they still let her roam free after school (though she isn't doing what they think she's doing). Her dad had been so tense after the encounter with the police officer, too-- the prospect of kidnapping and missing high school kids is one hell of a detour from the fresh new start they thought Inaba could provide. Surely that would have made them more worried--? And, now that she thinks of it; she doesn't know how much it affects Inaba overall. She doesn't know how many students go straight home after school, or how many families are on edge. She doesn't know if relationships are more tense, because the killer and kidnapper is somewhere, but who? She feels like a creep for glancing over to the girl with the red cardigan, but what the hell. She laughs with her group of friends, eyes crinkled and nose scrunched until her laugh becomes closer to an ugly laugh. Would she have seen whoever it was? She-- she had to, right? Shiho adverts her eyes. This town is weird, is what she settles on. "Ah-- Suzui-san?" Startled, she looks up. It's her seat mate's friend. She has long hair and teardrop-shaped eyes, and distantly reminds Shiho of a classmate from Shujin. It's enough to make her long for that goddamn school, with its stupid cursed hallways, cursed classrooms. "Yes?" Shiho says belatedly, realizing a moment late that she's meant to respond. The girl doesn't seem to mind, though-- she smiles politely, and Shiho tries to not feel silly. "Have you joined any clubs, yet?" she asks airly. Shiho pauses and wonders why is this the question of the week. She misreads Shiho's brief silence as something else, and adds on quickly, "I, uh, I've got the responsibility of recruiting for the girl's soccer team, and if you're interested..." Ah. Shiho smiles, even though she becomes conscious of the thudding ache in her legs. She's touched, honestly, even though it's a thing she can never partake in, because the other still asked and that's really really nice of her. She wanted to try playing soccer, once. "Ah, um. I'm sorry," she starts, and the other deflates slightly. "I-- I would, honestly, but the weather around here's been making my legs act up. I don't think I'd be able to play reliably..." The other girl smiles sheepishly and grows flustered. Her seat mate blinks in surprise, having listened in but not disruptively. "No, I totally understand! Leg injuries are awful-- sorry, I didn't realize..." she rubs the back of her neck. Shiho waves away the apology, "It's no problem, I, I don't exactly wear my knee brace as much as I should." The doctors told her to keep from doing too much physical activity, as it always had the chance of old wounds becoming agitated and unbearable. The hills around here were enough of a hike to strain the idea of physical activity. "Woah, what did you even do?" her seat mate asks, too blunt and a little too loudly. It brings the attention of some students, who look over curiously to what she's asking. She glances down openly towards Shiho's knee, the one with the brace fit snuggly over it. Her friend swipes at her arm, chastising her, saying its rude. Shiho's shoulders pull in at all the attention. She shrugs. "Bad fall." — It definitely says something when one of the biggest things in Inaba is the department store. Especially one that has possibly the most grating jingles around. She doesn't know where to start. Clutched in her hand is a grocery list from her mom, who had smiled sheepishly and handed it to her a handful of minutes after she got home. Junes was only a long walk away, it's not like she could refuse. It wasn't a long list, but this place is fairly huge-- she hopes she doesn't spend more than an hour here. She must've come in at some kind of rush hour-- there's enough people in here that she occasionally has to wedge by a couple people standing and chatting in the middle of the isle, which really sucks because sometimes they're standing in front of the things she needs and she does not have the guts to tell someone to take their conversation elsewhere because they're standing in front of the stupid chives. Tthe further into the store she gets, the less people she sees. Then again, she feels like she's getting more and more lost-- this place is impossibly big. Its so dim and spacious and the music is so distant if she didn't know any better she'd think she was in a twilight zone of some sort. Must be the lighting or something. Maybe the music? Or maybe the way that every isle looks basically the same? It definitely competes with the 777s she used to visit in the middle of the night. Now those were definitely liminal spaces. Even though 777s were gross and small and usually understocked, it was probably the place Shiho went to the most besides home and school. It had the food her parents sent her out to get last minute, and it was the place where the slushie machines were. Although she swore up and down that she was on a terrible strict diet, Ann always wanted to get some kind of slushie at the 777 if they weren't around the crepe shop in Shibuya. The cashier recognized them, even told them what flavors were out when they came in. They weren't even that good-- they just happen to be cheap and sweet, and that's all it really takes to be a godsend at one in the morning. Wasn't there some sort of food court near the entrance of this place? Maybe they have a slushie machine? Hopefully they're not too uppity about the machine so she could make unfathomable combos of flavors that should not be mixed. Even if those slushies make her teeth ache from artificial flavoring and gross amounts of sugar, she's craving one now that she's thinking about it. Shiho sighs, grabbing a small bag of rice and absently checking her phone. It was quiet, the screen devoid of messages from either Ann or her parents. Her parents' silence she could understand-- they preferred to call. But Ann? Ann's been crazy busy recently-- modeling gigs usually don't take all that long, do they? Shiho wonders, looking up in thought. She once wanted to tag along and watch what its like, but Ann had been so adamant on her not going because her coworker was a bitch or something along that line. Maybe some days the shoots are longer...? And it crosses her. I wonder if they have any magazines with her in it around here! She thinks, smiling at the idea of it. There's probably magazine stands near the check out, or somewhere else in this store. She just needs to get two more things and then she can go--! There is a child down the isle, looking up longingly towards some pudding cups that are most definitely out of her reach. Shiho stops. And she looks. Looks for a while. What the hell. This kid cannot be older than six, and she is standing alone in a department store. Alone. Sure, the store's full of cameras and people to witness, but isn't it dangerous to leave a kid unattended? Maybe she's lost? No-- she looks surefooted, somehow, for a six year old. Maybe her parent stepped into another isle, accidentally leaving her to linger in front of the pudding...? She is giving the pudding the look of a life time-- there is so much longing in her eyes. How in the hell can there be so much want in a kid's eyes? The only way she would be able to reach the pudding is by climbing the shelves, and she looks too nervous to try, but Shiho knows the kid seriously considered doing it at some point. Shiho shuffles her feet. She's got to do something about this kid being alone, right? It's the proper thing to do, isn't it? It wouldn't sit right in her stomach if she left the kid to her own devices if she actually was lost or left behind. Ah-- but what if she freaks out? Shiho doesn't think she looks scary, but children are unpredictable and being approached by anyone when scared is a catalyst to a meltdown. Then again, this kid doesn't look scared or lost. So, maybe... "Um," she finds herself starting, a bit weak. The girl didn't hear her. "Uh. Do you need any help?" Large brown eyes turn to her. The little girl has pigtails and possibly one of the most mixed emotion looks she's ever seen. It's caught somewhere between distraught and sorrowful, and it's probably because she's maybe two feet too short from being able to reach those pudding cups. She looks back towards the top shelves slowly. "Um. If it wouldn't be much trouble..." she says, voice quiet and high and looks away shyly. She looks really put out from her inability to reach up that high. In three long strides, Shiho stands next to the little girl and reaches up, shifting the basket in her arms so it doesn't knock into the kid's head. "These?" she asks, hand hovering just in front of the special, limited edition chocolate swirl pudding. The girl nods a yes, and Shiho hands it to her. She holds it like its made of pure gold, and it's really cute to see how enamored she is with it. "Hey, um," Shiho starts, pulling the girl's attention from the pack. It's some kind of social obligation to help lonely kids in stores, right? No one really had a protocol to follow when doing it, and she doesn't want to scare the kid off. "Are you alone?" Shiho asks, trying not to feel awkward under the curious look of this kid. She winces, because that sounded really weird, much weirder than she thought it would be. The little girl, surprisingly, frowns, like she's not sure of the answer. "No. Yes. Kinda? Big Bro said I could get some pudding if I wanted to. He's at the check out right now." "He let you come all the way here by yourself?" She isn't sure what kind of brother this dude is, but honestly? Would it kill him to come with his younger sister to get some pudding? It couldn't be that much of a pain to do. The girl looks to the pudding pack in her hands sheepishly. "I said I could. The lines were long at check out and I didn't want to lose our spot so I said I could find it..." What the hell are kids. What the hell is this kid in particular, for she's being crazy grown-up for her mere age of possibly-six. Shiho looks to the basket she's carrying. She still hasn't gotten panko or oats, but she can put that aside for another day. She kinda wants to just help this kid now. "Um. I was just about to go to check out. Do you want me to walk with you back to find your brother?" she asks lightly, hopefully not being creepy. Thankfully, a small, shy smile comes onto the girl's face, and she nods. The girl looks around absently as they go through the isles, eyes lingering on brightly-packaged items. She clutches the pudding like a life-line, though sometimes she looks like she wants to grab something else but quickly retains herself. Shiho is quite honestly charmed by how bright-eyed she is. "Is that your favorite flavor of pudding?" Shiho asks in lieu of conversation, though they shouldn't be far from the check-out. The girl blinks and looks down accordingly to the packaging. She looks at it with an intensity to it, as if she's thinking deeply about the question. "I dunno! I haven't tried that many, but I do like this one." She looks up with blinking doe eyes. "What's your favorite, miss?" They walk out of the isles, and ah, good, there's the check-out. Thank god she remembered the way to the check-out. The girl wasn't wrong-- the lines are pretty lengthy. She wouldn't want to give up a spot in the queues either. "I think I like the caramel chocolate ones," Shiho says absently, peering towards the lines, trying to see anyone who may be this kid's 'Big Bro.' The little girl seems to be doing the same, bowing over and swiveling her head around, and then perks up. "I see him!" she nearly squeals, and hurries down towards the line. Shiho follows at a much slower pace though she probably doesn't need to, but she just wants to make sure the girl's alright. She watches as her brown pigtails bounce as she turns into a register lane, watches as a bright smile grows on her face. The girl stops in front of someone, who had just started putting the things in their basket onto the conveyer belt. Shiho looks up, and-- Small world, huh, she thinks, but then feels dumb because it's a small town and of course she's going to see her classmates outside of class at some point. It's the silver-haired boy, the one that sits in the middle of the classroom. He's friends with the red-cardigan girl, and the two brunettes who stood up for Kanji Tatsumi the first day she was at Yasogami. She doesn't know anything about him. The girl beams up to him, and he smiles something soft back to her. Taking the pudding pack with deft fingers and placing it on the conveyer belt, he nods and listens to the girl chattering to him. After a moment, the girl spins around, easily spying Shiho as if purposely looking for her, and waves. Shiho waves back and then gives a thumbs up, which seems to make the little girl more excited. She looks up from the girl and makes eye contact with her classmate. He blinks-- either in surprise, or maybe she's just trying to read too deeply into things that don't mean anything. He bows his head towards her, perhaps in thanks, and then turns back to the register. Shiho bows back even though he's not looking at her, feels stupid, and since she's already here, steps into the queue.

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 4 #p4 #persona #shiho suzui #seta souji #yu narukami #ann takamaki #just realized italics don't transfer well :(

3 notes · View notes