PERSONA 3 DEVIL'S HERALD

...22/08/2009 Sartuday; Sunset...

The shrine was full of life, with lights gently illuminating the night, creating a magical atmosphere.

Stalls scattered everywhere offered food, games, and souvenirs, while the delicious scent of various dishes floated through the air.

Families and friends gathered in lines to enjoy the games and buy masks, savoring every moment of the summer festival.

Akihiko, Hiro, Minato, and Shinjiro walked through the shrine, observing the lively surroundings.

Akihiko, ever watchful, scanned the area, trying to spot any sign of the girls.

With his short silver hair and gray eyes, Akihiko, wearing a red V-neck T-shirt and white pants, looked at the crowd in confusion. "There are more people than usual this year. Where are the girls? Do you guys see them?"

Minato, dressed in a navy blue and white T-shirt with fitted black work pants, examined the crowd but only saw women in yukatas and children running around.

"No, not a sign of them," he replied, his voice calm but carrying a hint of frustration.

Hiro, wearing a red long-sleeved shirt over a white T-shirt and blue jeans, tried calling Mitsuru, but his phone had no signal.

"No luck. My phone's out of range," he said, putting it back in his pocket. "Let's check the stalls. We can meet at the temple later."

Shinjiro, clad in his usual wine-colored coat with black details, a high-neck brown shirt, and black pants, simply nodded.

"I'm gonna grab something to eat. I'll see you when the fireworks start." Without waiting for a response, he headed toward the food stalls.

Hiro sighed and looked at Minato and Akihiko. "Do you guys want to stay here or check out the stalls?"

Akihiko gave a slight grin, his expression eager. "Well, I feel like grabbing some takoyaki. I'm heading over there." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Now only Hiro and Minato remained. They exchanged glances briefly before also diving into the mass of people, exploring the festival.

Hiro, squeezed between people, suddenly stopped as he caught a familiar and irresistible scent—Katsudon, his favorite food.

His eyes lit up with excitement. "No way. You've got to be kidding me. They actually have Katsudon here? It's been ages since I last had one."

Quickly searching for the source of the smell, he spotted a food stall with a sign that read "Donburimono."

Wasting no time, Hiro rushed over, already pulling out his wallet and placing five 1,000¥ bills on the counter.

The vendor, busy preparing the sauce, noticed Hiro's enthusiasm and smiled. "I can tell someone's excited. What'll it be, my friend?"

With barely contained excitement, Hiro answered without hesitation, "A large bowl of Katsudon, please! And I want it with miso soup."

Elsewhere in the shrine, the moonlight cast a soft glow over the festival, its silvery radiance reflecting the troubled thoughts swirling in Minato's mind.

He stood still, his eyes fixed on the night sky, but his mind wandered far beyond the present.

The Arcana Shadows churned in his thoughts, a whirlwind of ominous visions.

Who in S.E.E.S. would be in danger? Who would fall, who would survive? He had no answers, but the questions gnawed at him.

His fingers, slightly trembling, touched his face.

An unconscious habit—rubbing his skin as if trying to ease the growing tension building within him.

He took a deep breath, attempting to push away the unease consuming him.

Then, a memory struck him.

Flames. The scorching heat of a car engulfed in fire.

He could see it vividly—his parents' faces trapped inside the burning vehicle, the despair in his mother's eyes.

His small body, thrown out by the force of the crash, looked back at the car, powerless.

And in that moment, the final gesture.

Her hand reaching out to him, even as the flames closed in.

"Live your life... be strong, Minato."

The explosion swallowed the rest of the memory, leaving only emptiness and a pain that tightened around Minato's chest.

His eyes returned to the moon, now seeming farther away, as if he were caught between the present and a past that never let him go.

His hand instinctively reached for the MP3 player he always carried, clutching it against his chest, as if it could bring him the comfort he so desperately sought.

The depression crept in again, a constant shadow, and the weight of simply disappearing—of surrendering to death—pressed down harder than ever.

Minato took a deep breath, his shoulders tense as he struggled against his own thoughts.

The sigh that escaped his lips was pure exhaustion.

"Minato-san."

Aigis's voice cut through his downward spiral, pulling him back to reality.

He shook his head slightly, trying to push away the dark thoughts.

With a calm motion, he slipped his hands into his pockets and turned around, meeting Aigis's gaze.

She was dressed in a way Minato had never imagined.

The blue yukata, adorned with delicate white flowers, felt strangely out of place compared to the combat-ready image he always associated with her.

Even so, her posture remained unchanged—precise and mechanical.

"I finally found you, Aigis," he said, his voice no longer carrying the weight from before. *"Where are the others?"

She raised her hand, pointing with perfect accuracy to where Mitsuru, Yukari, and Fuuka stood near a mask stall.

However, Aigis's attention did not linger on the other girls for long.

She looked down at her yukata, lightly pulling at the fabric with curious fingers, as if trying to understand the purpose of such attire.

"Minato-san," she said with her usual calm tone, though a trace of mechanical curiosity slipped through. "Do you believe this outfit is suitable for combat? It significantly restricts my movements."

Aigis's pragmatic remark brought a faint smile to Minato's lips.

Even at a festival, she remained true to her programming.

He glanced at her yukata, noting the serene blue of the flowers contrasting with her battle-hardened nature.

"Aigis," he replied, his small smile lingering, "I don't think you need to worry about fighting tonight."

She studied him for a moment, her eyes reflecting a soft glow under the moonlight.

Aigis then looked at her own hand, as if trying to decipher something profound yet incredibly simple.

She understood, then, that not everything in her existence had to be viewed through the lens of combat.

Sometimes, as in the case of the yukata, the purpose of an outfit was simply to be a symbol of tradition and style—something that didn't need to be analyzed for its battlefield efficiency.

"I understand," Aigis said with an almost mechanical tranquility, her eyes gleaming under the moon's soft light. "This outfit is not suited for combat. It is more for everyday use."

Minato, hands still in his pockets, nodded in affirmation, confirming her deduction.

He appreciated her efforts to understand more about the human world, even if her approach was so direct and literal.

Before they could continue, Hiro and Akihiko approached, their presences distinct in their own ways.

Hiro had an unusually good-humored expression, while Akihiko casually chewed on his takoyaki.

The moment Akihiko saw Aigis in a yukata, his eyes widened briefly—but he kept his composure.

Aigis, noticing Hiro's unusually cheerful mood, tilted her head slightly. "Hiro-san, you seem happier than usual."

Hiro let out a satisfied sigh. "That's what happens when you finally eat your favorite food after so long."

He paused, examining Aigis's yukata with a soft smile. "And this yukata… I wasn't expecting you to wear something like this."

Akihiko, still chewing his last piece of takoyaki, swallowed before commenting. "Neither was I. Did Mitsuru tell you to wear that?"

Aigis nodded, confirming with a precise motion. "Yes. Mitsuru-senpai wanted to show me how a festival is celebrated and asked me to wear this attire."

Before the conversation could go on, Mitsuru, Fuuka, and Yukari appeared, approaching the group after a brief search.

Yukari, dressed in an orange and white yukata adorned with small roses, held a basket in her hand, while Fuuka smiled timidly, wearing a navy blue yukata with bubble and sunflower patterns.

Mitsuru, on the other hand, wore an elegant white yukata decorated with subtle purple flowers, her hair tied in a refined ponytail.

Yukari, speaking in a casual tone, walked up to them. "Finally, we found you guys. Where have you been?"

The moment Hiro saw Mitsuru, his focus completely shattered.

His eyes widened, and his heartbeat sped up.

Everything around him faded away—he was absorbed in the sight of Mitsuru, her movements, her elegance.

Even though he was close enough to hear the conversation between her and Aigis, everything felt distant, as if he were trapped in a bubble of admiration.

Akihiko, noticing Hiro's dreamy expression, couldn't help but smirk mischievously.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand and smacked Hiro hard on the back of the head.

Hiro groaned in irritation, rubbing his sore neck. "Was that really necessary, you bastard?"

Akihiko chuckled discreetly and tossed his empty takoyaki plate into the trash. "You're welcome. Just brought you back to reality."