[Oh, they'll get involved. It's only a matter of time. Minako's been trying to squeeze her way in there since she first arrived; she's not about to stop trying to reform SEES. Her level of dedication to it is ridiculous, still. But that's why she's the leader.
But he's not about to tell Fuuka that. This place is as confusing enough as it is without telling her that her support work hadn't died along with Tartarus as it probably should have, though that is probably apparent—or will be, soon enough. Fighting with personas and climbing endless staircases isn't all there is to life. Shouldn't be. Shouldn't have to be. Personas are a tool, nothing more. A tool he thinks most people would be better without. It made Aki more reckless, got Mitsuru into countless problems that should have never been hers to solve, and Castor damn sure hadn't done him any favors. But the normality he had wanted had died a long time ago. Things won't ever be normal, though he'd like it to be.
When she speaks again, he glances down at her, eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly from their place. She sounds more confident than he remembers—though that confidence had probably always been there, waiting for her to find it. A small half-smile breaks across his face, but disappears as another second passes by. He's glad she's never stopped trying, even though some of the things he can recall her doing made him wince internally sometimes—because, shit, some things weren't meant to be cooked that way and goddamn why would you even try?]
You still remember how to make tonkatsu?
[The café knew how to make some good tonkatsu, at least, that would be easy enough for her to try, though it's more advanced than what he remembers teaching her. He begins to walk towards the café, picking the easiest way through the crowd, keeping his pace slow and even.]
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But he's not about to tell Fuuka that. This place is as confusing enough as it is without telling her that her support work hadn't died along with Tartarus as it probably should have, though that is probably apparent—or will be, soon enough. Fighting with personas and climbing endless staircases isn't all there is to life. Shouldn't be. Shouldn't have to be. Personas are a tool, nothing more. A tool he thinks most people would be better without. It made Aki more reckless, got Mitsuru into countless problems that should have never been hers to solve, and Castor damn sure hadn't done him any favors. But the normality he had wanted had died a long time ago. Things won't ever be normal, though he'd like it to be.
When she speaks again, he glances down at her, eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly from their place. She sounds more confident than he remembers—though that confidence had probably always been there, waiting for her to find it. A small half-smile breaks across his face, but disappears as another second passes by. He's glad she's never stopped trying, even though some of the things he can recall her doing made him wince internally sometimes—because, shit, some things weren't meant to be cooked that way and goddamn why would you even try?]
You still remember how to make tonkatsu?
[The café knew how to make some good tonkatsu, at least, that would be easy enough for her to try, though it's more advanced than what he remembers teaching her. He begins to walk towards the café, picking the easiest way through the crowd, keeping his pace slow and even.]