In the Persona 5 system, Cooperations—relationships represented by Major Arcana—weren't just narrative fluff. They shaped the protagonist's growth, granted new abilities, unlocked new paths. Some were tied to the main story. Others were optional, but powerful. The deeper the bond, the stronger the result.
Karasawa had expected some key players in this hybrid world might trigger those bonds.
But unlocking one so quickly—and so effectively—surprised even him.
Free Combat, though? Really?
Still dabbing his eyes dry, Karasawa glanced suspiciously at Amuro Tooru.
Was it because the contract formed under a guardian dynamic? Some protective theme?
Would've made more sense to teach him how to drive, honestly. That was Amuro's most cracked-out stat.
He could drift a Miata up a waterfall.
Amuro, meanwhile, pushed the pasta plate toward him again, visibly amused. "Hurry up and eat. A kid who bursts into tears after two bites might give people the wrong idea about my cooking."
Karasawa, red-eyed and red-nosed, looked younger than ever. Eighteen or not, it was hard not to call him a child like this.
Karasawa pouted, ready to bite back—but after eyeing the pasta, he swallowed his sass and grabbed the chopsticks again.
Free food's free food. The pasta slaps anyway.
Seeing him slowly unwind, Amuro took it as a sign that his approach was working. Time to dig a little deeper.
"When I heard the café was taking in a juvenile offender, I expected someone much harder to handle. You're not what I imagined. What happened exactly? Grievous bodily harm is a serious charge. Was it an accident?"
Classic probe. Slightly leading, but gentle—preloading the idea that even if Karasawa had done something wrong, it might not have been so bad. A great way to build trust.
Karasawa mentally gave him a 9/10 on interrogation finesse.
Then he lowered his eyes, turned his face slightly, and began recounting the case in a calm, detached tone. Like he was describing someone else's tragedy.
The story? Utter bullshit.
A drunk middle-aged man, a dark alley, a woman screaming. A scuffle. Blood. But even the identity of the one who caused the injuries was unclear. The "victim" might've just fallen on his own.
Still, Karasawa was arrested immediately.
They even threw him in a shared cell with violent offenders—he was beaten repeatedly.
In court, the "victim" never showed. When Karasawa refused to confess, they told him: "Admit it and get probation. Deny it, and you're going to juvenile prison."
After two months of pressure, he broke.
Wrote the confession. Took the deal.
All of it, Karasawa recounted with practiced neutrality—while polishing off his pasta.
Amuro, on the other hand, was seething.
His fists clenched halfway through the story. "That's… that's illegal! What about your parents? Did you tell anyone?"
There it is. Karasawa took pleasure in watching that vein throb on his forehead.
"Oh, my parents were overseas," he said casually. "And… juvenile trials are sealed."
The subtext was clear: No one saw. No one knew. No one helped.
Once the sentence was handed down, someone leaked the details anyway. The confession, the mugshots, the rumors. And just like that, any shred of credibility Karasawa had was gone. A walking, talking pariah.
He sipped his hot cocoa, stared at Amuro, and watched the twitch in his jaw grow stronger.
Perfect. This was his side dish. Righteous fury from someone else always tasted great with pasta.
Amuro couldn't hold back. "Scum. Absolute garbage. Tax-funded trash!"
Yes! Louder! Karasawa inwardly cackled. Let the fire burn!
He nudged it just a little further. "Maybe… the drunk guy was someone important? Like, the kind of person cops take orders from…"
Amuro's face darkened several shades.
Even worse. If the Organization didn't even need to bribe the cops—just needed a few puppet politicians—then Japan's entire justice system was one big puppet show.
Unforgivable. He needed to report this to Furuya. No—to Kazuha. This needed an investigation. Now.
A few hundred meters away, through the scope of a sniper rifle, another man was watching.
A man with a long ponytail tucked into a beanie. Calm hands. Unblinking eyes.
Akai Shuichi.
He pulled away from the scope, checking the vibrating phone.
"Shuu," came the voice on the other end, low and measured. "What's the situation?"
"Stable," Akai said. "Bourbon is engaging with the target."
"Do we move in?"
Akai's eye drifted back to the scope. He watched Karasawa laugh softly at something Amuro said, twirling his cup between delicate fingers.
"Not yet. The Organization wouldn't move this soon after abducting someone. The boy's safe—for now."
"…And the operation against Gin?"
"Postponed. Gin's already suspicious—he'll never bite. Right now, our priority is Karasawa Akira and the Miyano sisters."
"The Miyanos are still locked in a black-site facility. Cameron's made no progress. Shuu… we're running out of time. The Organization won't stay patient. Between them and Karasawa, the boy's the more accessible option."
Silence.
Akai didn't answer.
But they both knew what the question really meant.
They couldn't save both.
The FBI's influence in Japan was limited. Resources scarce. One rescue would cost them everything. One shot.
To save one… was to abandon the other.
"Shuu," came the soft voice again, tinged with grief. "There's no other way."
She knew what Karasawa meant to him. Knew what the Miyanos did, too.
Akai's fingers curled around the rifle.
The train was coming. And he was the one holding the switch.
"Pull Cameron back," he said. "I'll make contact with Karasawa myself. Bourbon has the perfect excuse—he can keep observing him from inside. We'll plan the extraction."
"…Are you sure?"
"No time for second guesses. Bring him home. We move now."
Click.
The line went dead.
Akai lay flat again, brought the scope to his eye, and typed quickly with one hand:
[Target has established rapport with Bourbon. No other hostiles observed nearby.]
Reply came seconds later:
[Maintain surveillance. If the target exhibits signs of compromise, you are authorized to sedate.]
He deleted the message.
Closed his eyes once.
Then opened them and returned to the scope.
Karasawa was smiling again.
He hadn't noticed a thing.
Akai's grip on the barrel never wavered.
They'd already lost the parents.
They couldn't afford to lose the boy.