SENTENCE RENDERED.

Please disregard the photo taken of her with a manic look in her eye as she rips a Shadow into two jagged halves.

Please.

She checks her notes again,

"Manifestation of pure Darkness?"

Before putting her hands into her face, deeply sighing.

Steel rends Shadow and Shadow rends steel in turn, two conflicting natures of one person gnawing and gnashing at each other. Each strike from the beast in a humanoid form seems like a fatal blow, or at least, one that would crack bone. And, damn it all, it feels like it'd break her if she took too many brute-force strikes.

Worse still, is how unstable her footing is getting. Wounds are taking their toll, and vengeful fury is barely enough to keep someone conscious through the kind of violent conflict that one tortured self and Shadow goes through. Anger isn't enough, the sword of betrayal driven through her front isn't enough-

The very ground shakes, and then explodes, with the force of bullet and rocket and gun. And while the Palace's ruler may be left on the ground, the more rabid mirror to her is sent flying. To the divided crowd's horror, right into the stands.

And as the dust settles, it is clear that damned Leviathan has launched her with quite some force. The supposed demon of Envy, the representation of the state's power and legitimacy over the individual has, if not won, then certainly wounded her counterpart. Enough that the crowd is more than willing to draw steel on her, in the chaos.

But they should learn very quickly, that the difference between the two Sae's is night and day. Their Ruler may tolerate them, employ them, ensnare them into her service.

But the Thief despises them.

Ripping off her mask and bursting out of the ruins of a pulpit, the Thief brings all of her remaining strength to bear. One Shadow is turned to mulch from but a dropkick, and another is tore in half by a single naginata swing from her Persona. Gunfire, once erupted, is silenced with horrified gasps.

Clearly, they never expected that their lives would be endangered.

"Anyone else want to die for the cause!?" Yoritomo roars, black blood staining his mask and hands. He's

And given how they run like sheep when a rabid hound is let loose amongst the flock, none of them really want to give up their lives for a show. The crowds sprint in panicked fear from what has been unleashed upon them.

Which, is a stroke of good luck at long last for the woman who bears the name of a masterless blade. Because she's just ran out of steam. Driven to one knee, the only energy she has left is to spit out words and pant bloodied breaths. Standing on the edge of the stadium booth, glaring daggers through what she once was, and still is.

"You ready to kill me yet?" She spits out, red on her breath, willing to die if it means she falls too. But not willing to seek death.

No, that. That part of her, she held tightly, and smothered it. She would atone. With her life.

The Shadow can't take it anymore. Each clash of their weaponry only ends in both staggering back in exhaustion. Leviathan takes aim again, the blast sending her falling back onto her back while her real-life counterpart flies into the crowds. Perhaps this battle wasn't such a bad idea after all.

With the crowds now slaughtered, Shadow Sae cannot help but smile. Their true nature is violence. It has always been this way. Sae's violence in the real world came in the form of her words - her ability to be a good prosecutor and convince the court of criminals' sins. Yet here, in the metaverse, her violence comes in the form of bloodshed. Ah, how proud she is to watch as Sae shows just how skilled she is in the art of killing.

She lies there, watching as the crowd disperses and flees, desperate to keep their insignificant lives. It isn't until Ronin drops to her knees and demands she finish her off that she attempts to sit up again. Her Leviathan form flickers out of existence, replaced with a battered and beaten Shadow Sae. She smirks at the demand, slowly shaking her head.

"I give up," She calls out. "I cannot bring myself to defeat a foe as strong as myself. I have no more strength to continue this pointless battle."

There's a small pause, silence filling the air between them for a moment before she finally adds, "You can kill me. If you can muster the strength to walk over to me. But I fear we have come to a stand-still..."

But then...she wouldn't get to go home. She wouldn't get to pay off her blood-debts, far more weighty on her soul than any financial struggle. She wouldn't get to hear Tae bitch about work, or Sadayo's thoughtful inquiries about how her efforts to get out of the SIU were going.

(A while ago, she'd have hissed at the two for even daring to inquire in her business. Now she's just grateful for the trust.)

She wouldn't get to see Kaneshiro, that piece of shit, rot in jail for what he did. She wouldn't get to see what the next day looked like.

(Three years with her vision tinged yellow and black. And a precious few days, free of taint.)

She wouldn't get to see Makoto finally be proud of her big sis.

...even though it feels like an impossibility most of the time. Still, she presses forward in this.

All of that, she isn't willing to give up for revenge. She never should have come here.

So. It is with a monumental effort, and the clenching of both fists...

That she turns around.

"This isn't over."

Those are the sole words she has to spare for the reflection, spat out with venom, before leaving. If the Shadows that acts as guards had any spine, they'd interrupt the bloodied intruder. But they don't.

She's both perpetuated, and been the victim of this type of haunting. The invisible hand of her parent's absence has been felt all throughout her life. The mark of her absence from Makoto's life is evident in every self-sacrificial action Makoto takes.

The dead, and the walking dead, leave a mark on the living. It is impossible to erase.

"More than ghost stories or myths, I've seen what that kind of haunting looks like."

The fact that she sees it in every mirror is...left out. Unspoken. But, Haru knows.

It would be easy to assume they had one another in this loss at least. But does anyone ever have another who can understand their grief? And Haru knows Makoto too well to assume such things. She understands too well the lack of presence living kin can leave in one's life. A shadow of a person there yet not.

But it is Sae's honesty that catches Haru off guard. Her willingness to listen and even respond earnestly to Haru's silly notions. To have someone older, wiser perhaps, look upon her and not through her. She finds herself unaccustomed to such.

Strangely she smiles to such a response, a small almost sad thing. Yet a kind and knowing gesture all the same. As if silently saying 'I understand'

"It's more tangible then any legend, isn't it? A haunting that so many of us must live with everyday."

She could point out Sae's faults. Remind her of how she is not just victim but perpetrator of this pain herself. She could point a finger to Sae and demand some kind of repentance for her friend. But that simply wasn't who Haru wanted to be. It wasn't her place to demand retribution for Makoto nor penance for Sae. If either wanted that, it was their decisions to make and their roads to walk. Not hers. All she could do was offer a comforting hand to take through their journey.

Worse still, what happened after she had walked her path, just one step off oblivion. Far enough that she was shunned and feared, and far enough to be marked as the sacrificial lamb. Only able to escape being the patsy due to an act of vigilantism...and not being able to escape the revenge that was coming to her.

By her own hands.

"If you want to behave as a monster, I will deal with us as such." Self-Loathing had reasoned. So full of anger and despair and grim resolve, in the Court of her creation. Her Palace. Her prison. Her tomb. A grave for two, a sacrificial kris for one.

For the crimes of her life, for perpetuating the misery she lived...it would be the death sentence.

But death had been evaded, yet again. Done by/as an act of defiance against the state, a Shadow had been beaten down by a Persona...and a Thief had risen from the ashes. A sword, a warrior, unmoored from her clan. Freed from servitude, from duty to cruel masters.

A Rōnin.

For the people that she owed her life to...her time is the least she can offer.

"What else could someone do, for another..."