April 23rd, 2012, with Kiba, Afternoon.
The air in this secluded corner of the Gremory estate rang not with the clash of steel, but with the sharp, final crack of it breaking in hundreds of shrapnels.
Another blade, this time a finely balanced estoc, shattered into two glittering pieces and spun through the air to land atop a growing, shimmering mound of more broken weapons.
The pile was a testament to relentless effort, containing the fragments of rapiers, broadswords, katanas, sabers, daggers, falchions and everything you could name—a metallic graveyard of every conceivable sword type Yuuto Kiba had been able to conjure since the first light of dawn.
"You possess a competent foundational knowledge of bladed weapons, blonde," stated Yoshitsune, the grudging samurai, his voice an unwavering calm as he stared down at the exhausted knight.
Kiba was on one knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps, sweat plastering his blond hair to his forehead.
"Yet, you default to a plain, one-handed blade as your primary instrument. Even your magically created swords are variations on this theme. You are not utilizing your Sacred Gear to its full potential."
"I was... trained primarily with the bastard sword," Kiba managed between breaths, using this rare moment of respite to try and steady his trembling limbs. "That has always been my focus."
"I have observed as much," Yoshitsune acknowledged, his imposing, armored form not moving an inch. "Unfortunately, time is a luxury we do not possess. Your adversary is a creature of rebirth, a phoenix who can regenerate from mortal wounds. If you are to face him directly, you must deliver a finishing blow so absolute that it outpaces his very capacity to heal."
"Overwhelming strength," boomed the voice of Odin, the All-Father, who had been observing the proceedings from a nearby rock, his single eye gleaming with patriarchal authority. "That is what the boy requires. Power that cannot be denied."
Yoshitsune turned his head slightly, a flicker of challenge in his stoic demeanor. "No, All-Father. It is speed that will grant him victory. A thousand precise cuts delivered in the blink of an eye, leaving no time for regeneration to take hold."
"Bah! Your beloved speed is meaningless if the strikes lack decisive force, or if he is struck down before he can land a single blow!" Odin retorted, rising to his full height. "We are strategizing for a single, conclusive attack, samurai. A sure-kill technique. Executed with perfect power, it would be swifter than any flurry of superficial strikes."
And so, the debate began in earnest.
The two powerful Personas, one a paragon of martial speed and technique, the other a sovereign of raw, cosmic power, stood their ground, their argument filling the clearing with intellectual friction.
Yoshitsune advocated for the untouchable swiftness of the Hassou Tobi, while Odin preached the finality of an unblockable, all-powerful thrust.
Kiba listened, his head bowed but his mind racing, absorbing every point and counterpoint. 'Our enemy is Riser Phenex, a high-class devil of a house defined by its immortality... Master Yoshitsune is correct; I lack the sheer destructive power to obliterate him in one hit. But Lord Odin is also right; I am not fast enough to outpace his healing completely. I need something else... a different vector of attack altogether.'
Then, it struck him. An epiphany, clear and sharp as the first sword he had ever created. He remembered his fight against Makoto days prior, where he had forged the Flame Delete.
His initial thought had been defensive—to extinguish Riser's flames upon contact. But both Yoshitsune and Odin had immediately identified its flaw: the ice was too brittle, too transient to withstand the Phenex's intense, continuous fire.
But what if he flipped the concept? Instead of a passive defense, what if he weaponized the cold? An offensive sword that didn't just douse flames, but actively froze the target itself, sapping their vitality and mobility, slowing them to a crawl and making them vulnerable to a final, decisive strike?
"Master Yoshitsune! Lord Odin!" Kiba called out, pushing himself to his feet. "I have an idea, may I speak?"
"Go on, boy," Odin said, momentarily breaking off his debate with a grunt. "We are not going anywhere at this rate."
"Speak," Yoshitsune commanded, his attention fully on his student.
"I was thinking of creating a sword that, instead of merely extinguishing flames, actively freezes the target it cuts," Kiba explained, his voice gaining confidence as he articulated the concept. "It would hamper his movement, slow his reactions, and potentially even inhibit his regenerative abilities by lowering his core temperature to a critical state."
"That is a sound tactical direction," Yoshitsune conceded, and though his face remained an impassive mask, there was a glimmer of genuine interest in his eyes. "But do you possess the knowledge to manifest such a blade? The ice would need to be far more potent and durable than that of your previous attempt. It must be a cold that bites to the soul."
"I... have never excelled in ice magic," Kiba admitted.
This was the inherent limitation of Sword Birth; he needed to fundamentally understand the principles behind the weapon he wished to create. Without a deep comprehension of absolute cold, he could not will it into existence.
"Then I shall demonstrate," Odin declared. He raised his hand, and the air twisted as the legendary spear, Gungnir, materialized in his grasp. With a casual spin, he pointed the tip towards the ground.
"Bufu."
A simple, yet profoundly potent, ice spell crystallized at the spear's point, causing hoarfrost to spiderweb across the grass in a wide radius. With a flick of his wrist, he then tossed the divine spear towards Kiba.
"Study it. See if you can glean its secrets."
Yoshitsune was visibly taken aback, a rare breach in his composure. "I would never have imagined you parting with your precious Gungnir so readily. To anyone other than the Universe, of course."
"I will not lose that wager to the iron lizard," Odin stated flatly glancing towards where Fafnir was training with Irumi.
Kiba caught the spear with reverent, careful hands, his eyes wide with awe. "Be cautious, boy," Odin warned. "Loki's curse yet lingers upon it. Prolonged contact could shatter a mind less fortified than yours. Observe, do not wield."
Kiba gulped and carefully laid the spear on the grass, kneeling to study its form and the lingering, soul-deep chill that emanated from its tip.
'This is Gungnir... The power it radiates is unlike anything I've ever felt. Master Okita would have given anything for just a glimpse of such a legendary weapon.'
As Kiba was engrossed in his study, Yoshitsune turned back to Odin. "All-Father, what did you mean by 'cannot lose to the iron lizard'? What contest have you and Fafnir engaged in?"
"A simple wager on who will strike the decisive blow against Riser Phenex," Odin explained, a competitive gleam in his eye. "The metallic worm claims it will be the Magician. I have placed my faith in the knight."
The desire to prove Fafnir wrong was a palpable force around him.
"This is a serious matter, Odin," a new voice interjected. Makoto gad arrived, his approach silent. As he neared, Gungnir, lying on the ground, vibrated and then shot through the air, its shaft slapping neatly into Makoto's waiting hand.
"Gungnir recognizes its true master, Universe," Odin commented, a note of pride in his voice as he delved back into Makoto's mind, granting him full access to the spear's power.
"Senpai," Kiba greeted, standing and bowing slightly.
"How is the training progressing?" Makoto asked, his gaze taking in the field of broken swords.
"Master Yoshitsune has been pushing the limits of my Sword Birth, forcing me to explore forms and concepts beyond my comfort zone," Kiba explained.
He then summoned a new sword, its blade shimmering with a faint, crystalline cold, a clear evolution of the Flame Delete.
"Senpai, would you be willing to spar with me? I have a new sword concept in mind, and crossing blades with the legendary Gungnir could provide the catalyst I need to finalize it."
"Sure," Makoto agreed readily.
Yoshitsune gave a nod of approval. 'You have my blessing to hold back, Universe. I have a feeling the blonde is on the verge of a breakthrough. Let us see what surprise he has for us.'
"Ready when you are," Makoto said, settling into a ready stance, the divine spear Gungnir held lightly in his hand.
Kiba took a deep breath, focusing all his will, all his newfound understanding of cold drawn from his observation of the spear, into the blade forming in his hand. This would not be the Flame Delete. This would be something new, something born of necessity and ingenuity.
April 23rd, 2012, Inari Shrine, Afternoon.
The afternoon sun filtered gently through the ancient trees surrounding the Inari Shrine, dappling the quiet grounds in light and shadow. Susan'o sat on a wooden bench, his presence somehow softened by the serene atmosphere. The conflict on his face was plain to see.
"So, this... Izanami... she cannot truly be considered my mother, can she?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "She is a Shadow... a manifestation of her suppressed self. The mother I knew died when she descended into Yomi? Is that what you are telling me?" He looked at Elizabeth, his golden eyes searching for confirmation.
On one hand, his fundamental desire remained unchanged: he needed to stop the rampaging entity in Yomi, to protect Japan from her wrath. On the other hand, the being he sought to defeat still wore his mother's face, her name. The cognitive dissonance was a painful knot in his divine core.
'That thing is just a monster bearing my mother's name. It is not her,' he finally affirmed to himself, the resolution solidifying like cooled steel.
He leaned his head back, looking up at the patches of blue sky visible through the canopy. A soft breeze ruffled his long, wild hair, and he took a deep, cleansing breath.
Then, he began to laugh, a rich, full-bodied sound of genuine relief that echoed through the sacred grove.
"Thank you for this information, Elizabeth! It is a precious gift! I feel as if a tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders! Now I do not have to trouble myself with the complexities of filial piety toward a monster!" he declared, his boisterous energy returning in a wave.
He stood up, brimming with renewed purpose. "I would still very much like to speak with Makoto Yuki at the earliest opportunity, but for now, I have my own work to attend to. And you," he said, pointing a finger at Elizabeth with a wide grin, "are hereby granted an open invitation to Takamagahara! If any of the stuffy bureaucrats up there gives you any trouble, they can answer to me directly!"
Before he could make his dramatic exit, he paused, a faint, uncharacteristic blush coloring his cheeks. He looked back at Elizabeth, his bravado momentarily replaced by a vulnerable hesitation.
"And, listen... Elizabeth..." he began, uncharacteristically awkward. "You mentioned that Makoto Yuki's Personas are gods from your world's mythologies... Is my... is the one known as Izanagi among them? Please, I do not care if he is not my biological father in this reality. I have... words I need to exchange with him, whoever he is."
Elizabeth's response was a warm, understanding smile. "Of course. Makoto has Izanagi-no-Okami within his arsenal at this very moment. We could go to meet him right now, if you wish. I am certain he would be more than happy to facilitate a conversation with your father, Lord Susano'o."
"Thank you, Elizabeth! And just Susano'o is fine!" he laughed, giving her a respectful, grateful nod. "Makoto Yuki is a fortunate man to have a woman of your caliber and kindness by his side. But enough talk! Let us go meet this famous savior!"
Elizabeth produced the Persona Compendium, its blue cover gleaming in the sunlight.
"Hello again, God of Thieves," she called out playfully. "Might I trouble you for your services once more?"
Silence. The pages of the compendium remained still.
Susano'o looked from the book to Elizabeth, intrigued. "What exactly are you trying to do?"
Elizabeth's smile tightened. "Mercurius," she said, her voice dropping several degrees in temperature. "I require you to transport myself and Lord Susano'o to Makoto. Now."
Again, only silence answered her. The Roman god was actively refusing the call.
"Fine," Elizabeth stated, her tone becoming dangerously sweet. "I recall my youngest sister, Lavenza, telling me about a series of... special rituals used in the Velvet Room for recalcitrant guests. I do hope you enjoy the sensation of electrocution, Mercurius. Or perhaps beheading? Lavenza was quite adept with a guillotine. She and my Master taught me every single one of them before I departed. Just in case of... emergencies, you understand."
The threat hung in the air for a mere second before a flash of light erupted from the compendium. The form of Quicksilver, Mercurius's rooster avatar, appeared, flapping its wings in a panic.
"Please, Attendant, heek! Understand my position! I promised the Universe I would not bring you to him, heek!" the bird crowed frantically.
"A rooster?" Susano'o exclaimed, blinking in surprise. "Now that's unexpected. I've never tried yakitori made from rooster, but I'm not sure how this is supposed to transport us to Makoto Yuki. Oh well, who am I to refuse a new culinary experience? Enjoy your final moments!" he mused, already unsheathing the Kusanagi no Tsurugi with a hungry gleam in his eye.
"I am not food, heek! Fine! Fine! I will take you to the Universe, you madwoman!" Quicksilver squawked, frantically beating his wings.
A blue light began to swirl around them as he activated The Wanderer, desperate to complete the teleportation before becoming the god of storms' next meal.
"A most peculiar method of travel," Susano'o commented, watching the magical energy coalesce with amusement. "I typically use the sea breeze or command a storm to carry me. I have never before used a panicked rooster as a conduit."
"I am a god of travelers and transitions, not a simple barnyard fowl!" Mercurius whined, but his protests were lost as the world dissolved into the blue light of teleportation, carrying the god, the attendant, and the thoroughly exasperated divine rooster towards their destination.