Cee

[ceejaykayess]

What do you MEAN Varlet is releasing TODAY??? I didn't even know we knew the NAME of this game until twenty minutes ago!

Monark sequel?????

[the-two-of-clubs]

A r/limbuscompany Reddit thread titled "Why do people refer to Dante as a boy?" had a lot of answers given that frankly depressed me, so I wrote a huge essay. And because it's huge and the Redditors are definitely not going to listen, I'm going to repost it here. For non-Limbus fans, Dante's the game's speaking protagonist of indeterminate gender.

People will just straight up say "I just don't want to use they/them pronouns, it's either he or she and I get to pick, sorry!" and be the top upvoted comment in this thread.

When I encourage you to use they/them pronouns for Dante that's not even because they're nonbinary, it's because it's what Dante is always referred to in the game they're from, and it's because it's a less clunky standin for "he or she" as well. "They" can refer to anyone, that's why it's the single best fit of any common English pronoun for an ambiguous character like Dante. They/them is the only way to refer to Dante without making up a headcanon, whether that be a fan theory that they're Ayin or Benjamin or whatever, or a self insert projection.

They/them is something you (yes you! the reader!) could be getting used to being able to use, for multiple reasons. One of which being for nonbinary people, and another reason being not constantly being forced to assume everyone's gender all the time. To smoothly be able to use language that doesn't constantly exclude women. For example, hearing someone talk about a doctor and immediately leaping to "he/him" is a microaggression, because female doctors are constantly confronted with the assumption that they're either men or nurses.

The more you use they/them pronouns for others, the more natural to you they/them pronouns will seem. And Dante could be a great starting off point for some of you to start doing that. Using they/them pronouns can make somebody's day. It would be real self improvement that matters. You probably know a trans or nonbinary person, whether you know that about them or not.

Some of you are 100% telling on yourselves that you couldn't handle being around a nonbinary person who uses they/them pronouns in real life with this thread. The pronouns are so alien and unusable to you you're performing mental gymnastics specifically to get out of using them. Yes, nobody can stop you from using he/him for Dante, knock yourself out I guess. But also, what is your actual reason to do that? And not just some casual excuse that you're throwing out, like "you can't prove Dante's NOT a man" (why not use she/her then, hm? what if she's a woman? at the very least the correct pronoun for this would technically be "he or she", right?) Or "Dante is a male name" (the entire Limbus main cast has male names and you don't see people "he/him"-ing Faust. Seems like a specific issue you guys have with they/them and Dante.) Really ask yourself why. Why ARE you so convinced Dante is a man? No really I'm serious.

And when that question does get asked by OP here, people are arguing in this thread that men are the ones who play Limbus Company, and that of course everyone's calling Dante he/him because almost all gamers use he/him, with the whole self insert argument. Which is dismissal and erasure of women, who apparently don't exist and it doesn't matter if the game's self insert mascot represents them, despite showing up in this thread to tell you that they and their presumably from context also female friends play Limbus. This self insert argument will never make Dante a binary man, it would make Dante another type of nonbinary which is pangender or genderfluid, because Dante represents all players that play them or whichever specific player is playing them, and to refer to Dante as the concept, the gestalt, the infinite-mirror-worlds Dantes that exist on each of our phones, they/them still suffices in a unique way, to pay homage to other players with different genders than you and their Dantes which would match those genders, I think.

Calling Dante "he" is an active choice you're making, going against the way the game refers to Dante.

Using the pronouns that the character always gets referred to in the entire game they're from is the norm. You guys never don't do that, except in cases like this where it's so you can ignore they/them pronouns. You do have an actual reason, conscious or subconscious, to actively change which pronouns you're using. Some of the people referring to Dante as he/him here absolutely have biases that make them unwilling to refer to Dante as they/them and therefore they're going out of their way to contradict the source material, namely transphobia. That might not be you, but it's some of the people you're sharing this take that Dante uses he/him with.

I am under no illusion that Dante is necessarily intended to be nonbinary representation. However, some of your reasons for "he/him"-ing Dante are very much trans exclusionary. "Dante has a masculine frame"... People who look like men to you sometimes aren't men. Heck, sometimes they're cis women. And if this is the first you're hearing of it, yep! That's always been true and you should keep it in mind. We live in a big weird beautiful world. People who look like men to you might be nonbinary and use exclusively "they/them" pronouns for example, and being referred to as "they" rather than "he" might go a long way to their happiness and comfort because of a thing called dysphoria, which can be medically dangerous for people if they suffer too much of it from being misgendered too often. These people can't somehow get a different skeleton structure and look even more androgynous than Dante does in order for you to refer to them respectfully. Training yourself out of jumping to pronouns because of the width of someone's shoulders can do real world good just like training yourself out of jumping to pronouns because of somebody's career. It all helps you act respectfully and challenge your assumptions. And that can start right now right here. You can just refer to Dante or any nonbinary video game character you've been neglecting as they/them, sound it out in your head, nothing is stopping you.

And yes, before someone starts whining that I'm making "too big a deal of this" because I dropped the dreaded T-word that will get me downvoted, Dante isn't real and can't have their feelings hurt by the fact that people keep referring to them as he/him even if they turn out to have been a woman this whole time. I know I am aware. You should know that nonbinary people are reading the posts you're making and seeing how casually and thoughtlessly you're willing to dismiss even the concept of using they/them for a CLOCK who doesn't even have a human FACE let alone an obvious gender, and I for one know that were we to meet, you wouldn't gender me correctly either. You'd take one look at me and thoughtlessly assume you're always right.

Does referring to Dante as anything at all matter directly? No. It's fiction. However, words inspire people. Everyone is just referring to Dante as he/him because everyone else is and it's considered normal. A creative thinker, a leader rather than a follower, is someone who questions what everyone else is doing, and comes to their own conclusions. Coming to your own conclusions is what you will have to do with what I have written here.

For the Tumblr audience this is probably just an unsurprising PSA that Limbus fan Redditors are being weird about they/them pronouns and a bunch of weird arguments they're using to do so. I'm not trying to come after any queer person's he/they or she/her or any pronoun set Dante headcanons in particular here either, you can tell by the explanation of what dysphoria is that's not the target audience. If you headcanon characters having different pronouns when it's not just because you can't be assed to use they/them we're cool that's very cool of you.

[ceejaykayess]

SMTV:V Vengeance Route Minor Late Game Spoilers (and some minor Creation True Neutral spoilers)

I've been playing SMTV:V for the last month and finally got to put it down yesterday finishing all six routes after initially only wanting to do the True Neutral ending then grab both (or just one depending on how satisfied I felt) Vengeance endings. I liked it enough that I'm honestly kinda sick of it.

But a certain series of conversations in Taito with a certain character pushed me to make a post to push out a message to the sea of souls.

To start, let's bring up the original release of SMTV in 2021. Now, while plenty of people praised the gameplay, the game's story was near universally reviled, or at best ignored. The biggest symptom of this was the lacking, if not outright shitty, characterisation of our cast. The player was, ultimately, left with no real reason to care about any of these chumps on a personal basis outside of maybe Tao and Aogami (and Ichiro, but his shit went wack super hard so it kinda evened out), and could only really care about them in terms of what they think the game wanted from them. Comparatively, the demons in the game got much more of a spotlight, being almost entirely who you got sidequests from, as well as who you interact with the most, not even in a gameplay sense but in a cutscene one too. Bumping into Fionn over the course of the story was cool, and him eventually accepting you as his king was a nice conclusion. Amanozako, annoying she may be, turned out to, at least conceptually, be pretty interesting in her relationship to the protagonist. Plenty of the demons you met had strong personalities that, when combined with their gameplay styles, left a strong impression on the player, and made them more important to (You) as a person than the "main characters".

So, along comes the True Neutral ending of the game, the closest to a "definitive" ending in terms of gameplay experience, with the secret final boss showing off his chops as probably the hardest non-superboss. And in this ending, you... create a world for humanity alone. Which means you... get rid of all of the gods and demons plaguing your world, made more or less certain by absorbing the secret final boss' Knowledge. The gods and demons you've spent upwards of 50 hours running around for, fighting with, fusing, studying, refining, even just watching.

Even your partner, Aogami, who's the only reason you're still alive.

And people were... not exactly hot on it. Generally people thought all the endings weren't great, and none of them actually felt like they fit their supposed alignment, with Neutral and Chaos seeming mixed in their placement and Law being the most tame it's ever been since the franchise's inception, if the wiki didn't lie to me. Made for great angsty fanfiction at least, but... not exactly a lot to go around.

Now, this brings me to the alignment rep for Neutrality, Shohei Yakumo, and his Life, Nuwa. Nuwa herself wasn't too much of a character, as much as she was a couple pretty good lines and an attempted line of communication between you and Yakumo. Yakumo is the real star of the show here, and... what a star he was.

I don't think anybody liked this guy. Hell, I'm not sure anyone likes this guy even after Vengeance's addendums. He shows up, starts shit, accomplished nothing we actually see or that actually matters, then dies. In the Neutral routes, he dies to fucking Ichiro and Abdiel, like fuck off. His plan, with Nuwa, is to destroy the Throne of Creation, which will make it impossible for a new God to remake the world or rule over humanity (in this way at least, allegedly, but no secret final boss so maybe actually). When we attempt it, we get the Neutral ending, generally accepted as the worst ending, and even to me actively read like the bad ending to the story. The protagonist even has the same evil little smile on his face as when he uses Profaned Land.

Of course, when you fulfill certain conditions (read: have certain fusion recipes visibly unlocked in the World of Shadows) Nuwa will stroll up to you at some point and tell you that the original plan was to make a world for humanity alone, but that they didn't go with it for... some reason. That's the True Neutral ending. Out of universe, a boggling decision to make, and in-universe, one that actively tears at out protagonist's heart.

This leads me to the point of the post: In Vengeance route, we are given, implicitly, the reason why Yakumo and Nuwa did not approach the Throne with the idea of using it to make a world just for humans. It is because, in spite of Yakumo being the victims of demons, his parents slaughtered by a man whose will was weak enough to be possessed by them and resenting demons, as a teenager demons were the only friends he really had. Between him and a fellow in Jouin that tells us about his files, we know he often spoke with things nobody else saw and called them his friends, said that he was never really alone. He is described actively as a contradiction. Demons took everything from him. Demons were all he had. He hates demons. He loves demons. He wants to create a world without demons. He can't bring himself to follow through on that ideal and settles for a much shittier compromise: ultimately keeping the status quo and making sure nobody can really change it. Neutral is the bad end; it's the White Ending of SMTV.

But, don't you think all of that sounds a little familiar? Lost things precious to him because of demons, yet in a sense has demons as his closest companions. Wanting to make a world for humanity alone, yet crushed by the weight of erasing those he holds dear. A contradictory person, when you look at him all up.

Hey wait, that's just our protagonist.

That's right, I think they accidentally made Yakumo a strong mirror to the protagonist, as reflected metatextually by the True Neutral route. It is in this way, then, that I find it striking that the Vengeance route, the one praised for making the characters actual characters, and where you can actually say the MC became friends with his classmates and alignment reps, is the route where you can't choose to abandon demons. (Saying that, I have seen some people compare Vengeance Law to True Neutral in removing all demons, I'm not sure about that actually but I dunno) Instead, it's in the Creation route, where you don't make particularly deep bonds at all with your fellow humans, where demons are those most important, most interesting to you, that you can choose to destroy them.

And all of that made me think of Yakumo as incredibly interesting, actually. Nuwa said, in the diverging cutscene between Neutral and True Neutral, that maybe we could do what they (Nuwa and Yakumo) couldn't. In 2021, that would be read as finishing the fight they lost. But now, it reads like this: "You and Yakumo are incredibly similar people. But Yakumo can't pull the trigger on his ideals. I know you can, though. You won't betray yourself." Which is wild to say to a 17 year old God who probably has a history of flip-flopping on who he thinks is right at any given moment, but hey.

[ceejaykayess]

[LoR spoilers] Le Mát/Invertito

"The Fool (Le Mát) is often compared to the Joker in more recent card games. Traditionally in Tarock- or Tarot-esque games, it is a special card that can be played to any trick, bypassing the suit rules. It can neither win nor lose the trick; if the trick is taken by the player with the highest card, the player of the Fool recovers it to their own pile of tricks. According to most, but not all rules, they gives the winner of the trick a blank, worthless card from their own tricks instead."

0-I-II-III-IV-V-VI-VII-VIII-IX-X-XVI

[ceejaykayess]

My conception for a Joker alternate Metaverse costume in the same vein as the Prince and the Black Mask. I was torn between playing up the other aspect of Arsene, his demonic appearance as a Rebel's Will, or following the other, more false, half of Joker's presentation that has hints of truth in it, that of a Prisoner of Fate. Obviously, I chose the latter.

Of course, the entire piece is very parallel to Joker's regular outfit, a lot more parallel than the Prince and the Black Mask outfits are. I have excuses for that, trust me.

So, at its base, it uses Joker's prisoner outfit from the Velvet Room. Including the shackles, with the addition of broken chains instead of wholly connected ones. Starting with the mask, I based it off of the mask from the titular protagonist of The Man in the Iron Mask, an art piece painted in France centuries ago. Or, more specifically, from the 1998 film adaptation. I'm not exactly a premiere, or even an amateur, on texturing, but Joker's mask is meant to be a torn off segment of that mask, left in a shape similar to his domino mask as a Phantom Thief, with black markings painted on to mirror his actual mask.

The next big piece is his coat. I wanted something to be similar to it, but not perfectly so. I considered something like a collar around his neck with dozens of chains trailing off to make something looking like a cloak, but decided instead on a torn open straightjacket. Visually, it's meant to imply Joker was trapped in the jacket, then tore his hands out of it, right first, which is why his right sleeve is all torn up, then cut off the slack on his left sleeve later, which is it looks cut off. He would have then cut it open straight down the middle, leaving the slack of the binds hanging. For the sake of aesthetic I made it so the tail was cut into thirds, so on paper it'd look like his usual tailcoat. In reality, the straightjacket is way longer than his coat, so it'd leave a longer trail when running and would probably drag on the ground more often than not.

His red gloves are instead replaced with red hand-wrappings. Seemed a bit more like something a prisoner would wear. I replaced his usual dagger with a trench knife, cause I thought that seemed dope as shit and could not for the life of me think of a good design for a more wicked or otherwise prisoner-esque knife that wouldn't look kinda lame.

I made his expression more severe, I guess as a holdover of the idea of making a demonic alternate outfit over a prisoner's, but I suppose it could be considered that as a Phantom Thief, his expression should remain confident but still compelling, while an escaped prisoner has no need for looking on with a cool gaze.

I think I could've drawn it better, but I think the design's tight. It's mostly white to run counter to his Phantom Thief outfit being near entirely black, which is a good counter to the Prince and the Black Mask. That he shares so many inherent design elements between the two forms is meant to represent that the form of an Escaped Convict, the Most Dangerous Prisoner, is close to his conception of his justice and thus himself. As opposed to the Traitor, who likely holds the Prince as a fake ideal built on the true beliefs he held as a child and the Black Mask as the embittered, reforged ideals of his older self.

[ceejaykayess]

I've been thinking hard about where P5T is in the timeline since beating the game. Initially my answer was set by the game's very first scene- the week in between Christmas Day and the New Year. We're told that Shido's already confessed and the Phantom Thieves react strongly to the apparent return of the Metaverse, believing it had been destroyed. Some people take this to mean (or at least write it as) it's post-Third Semester. These people are crazy (all writers are crazy though, that's fine). The main cast are decked out in their school uniforms, including Joker. If it was post-Third Semester then Joker wouldn't have a need to. Thus, I posit Persona 5 Tactica starts on December 26th, the day of Shujin's 2016 Closing Ceremony, one day into Maruki starting to warp reality. As far as the main cast knows, Akechi is in jail after turning himself in as one of Shido's collaborators, not dead or double-dead.

I was so set on this general theory, until I watched the game's last cutscenes. They talk about the events of Persona 5 as being last year. They mention how it feels like it's really Spring now. They are all wearing their high school uniforms. This revelation complicated my process. Unless there's a Japanese custom to talk about the year that's occurred as if it was the previous year instead of just talking about it as the same year, this means the game's conclusion is after the New Year. Of course, the final cutscenes are probably set weeks after the actual events of P5T, given how the news talks about everything and how blaise the PT were. So when's the conclusion set? Post-Third Semester doesn't quite make sense, because again Joker wouldn't have a reason to wear the Shujin uniform. But everything that's going on in the conclusion feels a bit too chill to say that it's set during the Third Semester. Toshiro would definitely be asking some questions- in fact, most of what's going on with Toshiro would probably be actively retconned if it was happening during the Third Semester, even if I think his character development and self-awareness wouldn't be.

I dunno, it's weird, man.

[ceejaykayess]

Here's the third and final of the initially planned Kagepro/AITSF art pieces. This one featuring the very dramatically and awkwardly named Y(A)k(I)suteru, or Yaki for short. I'm not sure why, the image quality is worse than usual- not the fault of my subpar photography skills for once, so maybe it'll be harder to see what I'm talking about for yourself. Sorry if it is.

So, compared to Ene, Yaki is very much comparable to Aiba and Tama- definitely more Aiba, as I seem to keep defaulting to for some reason. Maybe because the first game was better. Anyways- her outfit is meant to be comparable to the sundress the original Yaki wore in Route 2, sans the slits along her legs. Hey, don't look at me, look at Shintaro- an AI-Ball takes a form that epitomises the user's personal tastes, after all. Of course, that's not all that's going into the cause of her appearance...

The markings on her dress were made with the intention of being cyclical, hence why they loop around her back and meet back at her front. Around her neck, comparatively, is a single black line taking the appearance of a snake eating its own tail. How friendly... the markings on her legs, too, are twin snakes intertwining and reaching forward for a red something before them. The marking on the centre of her back was made to fill in all the blank space, taking an almost double meaning- looking like a jagged zero in the black, while the surrounding red was meant to look vaguely similar to Ayano's scarf.

On the topic of her scarf, you might notice she doesn't have one. In spite of that, I tried (and failed probably) to make it look like something was still pressing down on her hair where the scarf would have been. I also made her hair longer than her canon counterpart, with it reaching past her waist. Surprisingly, canon Ayano's hair isn't very long in spite of how voluminous it looks.

Yaki's gel form is, unsurprisingly, that of a snake, and her iris is red. The text above her reads, "I know I've said this before, but I figure I may as well say it again. Don't forget this week, Shintaro." This is meant to be in blatant reference to the start of MCA. In the top right is a quick hand-drawn reference-free sketch of Shintaro dramatically awakening Yaki and being struck dumb by what he's learning.

Here's the initial Shintaro image, and here's the follow-up Ene image.

Falling, falling, falling. The world, her world, the world within her world, it was all falling down. Darker and darker, only that accusing red refusing to be dulled by the darkness. Why didn't you say anything, it sneers. Why didn't you save him, it shouts. Why weren't you just a little faster, it cries.

She cries.

She would cry, but she cannot. She is not real, she hadn't even had the opportunity to assert herself as something, real or otherwise. She, it. Lacking any experience to classify itself as anything more than an it, so defined to her base programming that she can't be anything other than a her.

And yet, and yet, despite its nonexistence, so strongly it almost felt in spite of her core programming, the AI-Ball wanted to cry. The AI-Ball wanted to scream. The AI-Ball wanted to disappear.

Hate, the AI-Ball ponders, must be related to this. The burning in her circuits at the sight of that ghastly smile in a face its other half had classed as friendly not even an hour ago, that must be hate.

So, too, must the burn she felt when she saw the blue interloper, impostor, faker, thief, cling-on, replacement be hate. Seeing that rogue program, that false girl speak to her other half, act as if she was meant to be her master's servant, work side by side with her partner, it all filled the AI-Ball with feelings she hadn't had the capacity or opportunity to understand. Not when she was trapped and locked away in her own body, forced to watch uncomprehending as her very existence was usurped. Feelings and memories it could only begin to interpret when the fake finally left the AI-Ball, only able to function as an eye for her partner, her system so warped by two years of serving another master she couldn't willingly try to operate at full capacity lest she harm him.

And yet.

And yet.

If she had thrown caution to the wind, could she have prevented this? If it had dedicated its whole system to a factory reset, not worrying about its master's eyesight or something as frivolous as these half-hearted memories thrust upon it, could it have operated well enough to protect its purpose?

If a chance had been taken, would the AI-Ball not have to watch the life bleed out of him, not have to experience his despair and rage and confusion and betrayal at the sight of his friends' slaughter, not have to contemplate her own failure instead of doing something useful to at least make sure the murderer wouldn't just get away with it?

His heart rate began to bottom out, his breathing having ceased long ago, his torn open throat incapable of carrying breath. Brain activity, which had seemingly hit an all-time high, began to cease. With the technology she was created with, she could essentially calculate the time until he died to the second.

7. How... humorous, she thinks would be how a human would phrase it. He was jokingly labelled as Number 7, wasn't he? If only she was AI-Ball #007, too. But no. Instead, her serial was...

Please...

Ah.

Please... save them... anyone... please... The me of another world, of another life... anyone... anything, please... pl...ease...

Seven had become three without realising, then two, and as it stared down at the stiffened pond of red that continued to stand out amidst the darkness that had spread, two became one. And she shut down. It didn't matter. She didn't want to feel it, when his body reached zero. If her Creator found her, if he even still could in his state, maybe he'd reset her, curse her for being worthless, or just scrap her. It didn't matter, none of it did. Her subroutines started to cease one by one, and her various worthless functions began to shut down.

And then Shintaro Kisaragi passed, his final words a tortured scream to anyone else and a heartfelt plea not meant for her that only she could hear. And with his death, and time passing zero, and her dim awareness still remaining even as she fixates on the nothingness, on the stillness, on the cold that didn't feel as proverbial as it should have been- a part of her, a quiet and small part, one derived from that barest scan of his psyche when she first awoke seeking out information to create his perfect partner, wished. Even though she was fake, and empty, and lacking substance, even though she was hardly worthy of it, she still wished earnestly.

For the power to save him. For the power to protect what he holds dear. To meet him again, and to do so properly. For the her of another world, of another life, to serve by his side and seek out a future where he can smile.

Then her world was finally engulfed by the dark.

...

...falling.

Falling, falling, falling.

Her vague existence was falling down, the deep darkness, the expansive emptiness, slowly giving way to that agonising red.

And then she wasn't falling alone. By her side, a presence. Long and black, scaled and slithering, red jewels set in obsidian. Yet, the red did not feel agonising, or accusing, or antagonising, but rather gentle, and passionate. Not the red of blood, but like... the red of the sunset, or his favourite jacket.

In a blink, black scales gave way for pale skin, and brown hair, and a beautiful dress, and a red scarf, and it felt strange. Like looking in an altered mirror at a carnival. The contours of a face that was going to be hers, hair that stopped near the shoulder blades than past the waist, a dress her own body tried to mimic; it was looking at a memory that didn't belong to her.

The red eyes stayed the same, however. Still gentle, still full of a passion- to save, to protect. She offered a hand, and the AI-Ball didn't even think before reaching out in kind. Warmth. Hands that she could have emulated, in another life. Her red eyes spoke a tale, a message, and a request. One the AI-Ball couldn't help but accept.

Maybe she couldn't do a thing as herself, alone, as nothing and nobody. Maybe even if she had the opportunity to become something and somebody, things wouldn't have changed in such a ridiculous situation. But like this, not alone, but together... not supplementing someone else, but acting as part of them... maybe things could change.

All she truly wanted was for Shintaro Kisaragi to live. Whether she had a part in that future was, truthfully, irrelevant. That was a truth from the very core of her existence, from Wadjet herself. But like this, she could be selfish and get to stand by his side.

As the two fell together, fell deeper and deeper into the red, as the distance between the two shrank and shrank, as eventually only one fell through the red and into a dream of gears and repeating mechanisms, a conversation played in-between the gaps. An introduction between two pieces of a new whole, and the hopes of an introduction to someone she never got to say those words to.

-I am the Snake of Retaining Eyes.

I am AI-Ball #000.-

-I am Yaki. Try and remember my name, won't you, Shintaro?-

[ceejaykayess]

The long awaited sequel! Super-cute Cyber-girl AI-Ball Ene, at your service! I kid, I kid, I know no one saw the last post, because it didn’t get posted under the tag for some reason… ah well, second try’s the charm.

After hearing that next year’s Dazecon would be our last, it sorta kicked my ass into gear to get some more of these Kagepro ideas off my chest and onto paper. So, Ene, our deuteragonist to our beloved protagonist (derogatory).

I had a lot of thoughts ever since the first picture on how I wanted to draw Ene’s cyber form. Given Aiba and Tama’s designs, we have something of a base to work off of, but we need at least one more game for me to confidently declare what is and isn’t a pattern. What we can easily tell, at least, is that AI-Balls have white hair and and dress in mostly black and white. And while Ene does do the latter, she… doesn’t do the former. Why? Well… maybe you can figure it out?

But in terms of her design, while I mostly stick to her regular design, the things I want to point out (because it might not be super obvious with my image quality) are the glowing strands in her hair, a blue one in her fringe, a red one in her left pigtail, and a white one in her left. I suppose you could call them remnants of what should have been… I also want to point out her outfit- it’s skin-tight from the neck to the waist, the skirt being a part of the bodysuit. The sleeves are, almost ironically, like Miku’s in that they’re detachable. And the most AI-Ball feature to her are the tech veins that compose her legs, as opposed to generally lacking them as in most Kagepro material.

I made Ene’s gel form a rabbit, in consideration of those mini-sketch comics I read yonks ago that drew Ene’s pigtails as being like hands for her since hers are in her sleeves always. Also, I thought it’d be funny if the first time Shintarou saw it, he’d consider renaming her to Tono in honour of his rabbit.

In case it’s hard to read, the shocked Ene in the top right is saying, “Master! MASTER! Oh no, he can’t hear me, he’s wearing his Raycon:tm: Earbuds, supremely comfortable for all your needs-” The little sketch in the bottom right, of Shintaro face down in bed and Ene in rabbit mode on his bedside table, reads, “Get the fuck up Master, we’re goin’ to the amusement park today!” “Ene, I’m dying…”

Here's a link to the first picture of Shintaro that never posted properly. And here's a link to the follow-up Yaki picture.

How long had she been wandering? She wasn’t really sure. Sure, if she looked at a calendar, or even just the UI on near anyone’s digital device, she’d see that it had been a year, more even. But that wasn’t really what she meant.

When she first opened her eyes, she had a purpose. She wasn’t wandering- she was seeking. She wasn’t on a Journey, she was on a Quest. She had to find them, had to know what happened to them, because if she were here, like this, then the others, then he had to be-

But though she had a Quest, she had to figure it out, her newfound capabilities, how to parse the sheer amount of information that tried to force its way around her, through her, tried to twist the information that made up herself-

And by the time she had come to a balance with her newfound self, body made of numbers and pixels instead of blood vessels and organ systems, what she had been seeking had become old news, hearsay that was washed under the waves of time and new information and new tragedies and new things for people to talk about. The longer it took, the deeper the information was buried, and the deeper it was buried, the longer it would take for her to come and go.

But eventually, after months and months, 8 months and 17 days and 9 hours and 21 minutes and 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 4 seconds, she had bounced from Wiki article to Wiki article, dug through news archives, dragged herself through Towitter discussions and arguments dated around that August 15th, and a bit after, she had learned and pieced together thus: Three people were marked as dead. 14 people were injured, 9 of which being detained as members of the syndicate that caused the explosion. There was no mention of who died, or even of the state their bodies were in. There was no specific mention of their fourth, her annoying kouhai who was so bitter, who brought everyone down despite his brilliance, who everyone loved despite his acidic tongue and obvious disdain, who she hated because of how much it felt like she were looking at a mirror, her kouhai who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by rubble and mumbling things she could barely understand being in such a terrible state herself-

She felt herself lose it, the desperate, fickle hope she held in her oversized jumper, because what does it matter? For all intents and purposes, she was dead. As far as she was aware, as far as anyone was aware, her best friend was, too. Maybe even her kouhai. And her-

And-

That kind boy, the one that irritated her so, the one that she wanted to see every day, the one that made her feel this terrible, terrible way, he too is-

Gone. They’re all gone. So what’s the point? Her Quest was over. And she couldn’t even delete herself, backspace over the 1′s and 0′s that composed her new existence. She was too much of a coward to throw herself at a virus and let it have its way with her. She could just stay here until eventually this webpage rotted away, but the longer she stayed in proximity to this information, to this reminder, the more she felt like she needed to expel the non-existent contents of her non-existent stomach. So she ran. She left. She tried to separate herself from her name, from the life that could no longer be hers, that simply was no longer.

She wandered.

How long had she been wandering?

…

Long enough that she felt nostalgic, at least. Long enough that she’s actually contemplating her current course of action, long enough that she’s following through on that course even as she contemplates the wisdom.

Her current location, digitally, was in the mainframe of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Her destination was downstairs, 5 floors underground in fact. The Advanced Brain Investigation Squad. Her… former squad, to put it a way. She followed along the flow of data from the routers to the elevator, holding and holding and holding on to the connection as she sunk deeper and deeper and deeper until she felt like she might actually suffocate despite not needing air, before feeling the next router and leaping for it, bringing her all the way down to the abyss.

Taking in deep gasping breaths of nothing that still let her feel like a human, she looked around. The ABIS mainframe wasn’t anything special. Tunnelled far as hell away from anything else, sure, but nothing special. So much for the stupid old man and his so-called “professional coding skills”. Feh. She’s seen message boards with more interesting encryption.

Despite her trash-talking, she still looked around curious as she wandered deeper. Jumping from computer to computer, camera to camera, she saw how much the place had changed in the last year. Or rather, how little it didn’t. It was like she had never left. Eventually she came across a concrete room with a familiar sense of decoration that made her want to spit and laugh and scream and cry-

Which was immediately blown away when she looked down on the room’s occupants. There was, of course, the room’s owner and decorator, with his scruffy brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, holding his iconic lab coat rather than wearing it, glasses askew and face looking as if he hadn’t slept or washed his face for days. His cybernetic eye, pupil the same as his remaining brown one, stared deep into the eyes of the person that had her stopping short, looking again, re-evaluating and readjusting, checking the feed and the system and refreshing everything, video and audio, again and again, just to make sure she wasn’t being deceived, that the person she was seeing was really who she thought he was.

“-is that understood, Shintaro?” “…I understand, old man.”

His voice was somehow more unbearable than usual, his face lacking its usual stern and uncaring look. It was loose, and flabby. Like he didn’t even care enough to pretend to not care. Instead of the red coat her best friend was so fond of, or even the black suit he was partial to, he stood in just a white shirt, arms bare. He was missing an eye, a scar covering the eyelid, one that made her think of a boy reluctantly in red, facedown in a puddle of the colour.

“Oi, I told you already, call me Boss, y’got it brat!?” “Mm.”

Barely acknowledging him, he turned away, making his way out of Boss’ Office, as the namesake would have you call it. Without thinking, she began to follow after him, but was stopped when she heard the old goat mutter something.

“Give me strength, Ayaka…”

Whispering the pained prayer, the man she always thought of as an unreliable lout that only ever got moving when he was being put under threat stood, donning his lab coat and fixing his glasses. Reaching into it, he withdrew a small sphere, chockful of electronic components- very similar to the one in his own eye, actually… or rather, based on it. He gave it a long look, and so did she. What was he planning…? Her musing was broken by his clenching of his fist and replacing the orb, muttering tomorrow as he moved out of the room- down the hallway and towards his lab. The opposite direction of Shintaro.

Shintaro.

Almost without thinking, she turned around, searching for the apathetic genius, that damn ikemen that couldn’t take a hint for the life of him. The hallway was lonely, and he was never very fast, so she caught him easily halfway towards the elevator. She hesitated. She had already seen more than she expected, more than she even wanted. She had expected the old man. Hell, maybe some part of her even expected to see reference to the others, pictures maybe. She hadn’t even gotten to look at their old workplaces, at her old work bench where she fiddled with her Evolver- she didn’t even know if her Evolver was still around.

But she hadn’t expected a man, no, a brat she thought was dead to be walking around with the living. She shouldn’t follow him. She wanted to check on her Evolver, see if Mr. Tateyama had improved on anything in the last year, see if the three of them are still remembered. She doesn’t even like Shintaro that much anyways, if he knew she was spying on him he’d just scold and scream at her like the ungrateful punk he is-

But even so, she follows him anyways. Jumps to the data in his phone, barren and new, clenched in his hand. She’s only doing this because the other two would have wanted her to. Not because she wants to.

And so, she watches as he rides the elevator, not once glancing at his phone. She watches as he hails a cab and asks for an address that, after a quick search, she finds is set in Tokyo, not Chiba. She watches as he sits silently through the whole ride, rudely ignoring his chauffeur’s attempts at conversation and instead looks with almost a sad look at the cityscape passing him by. She watches as he pays the driver, walks up to the rundown looking building, sighs, and opens the door. She watches as he nods at the tired 30-something reclining against a couch in the foyer, walking up the stairs until he comes up to a door. And she watches as he silently pulls out a key, opens the door, and skulks to his room. She can’t see anything else out of the narrow view the phone’s camera offers her, but it looks like he’s trying to be quiet. Could there… be someone else here?

And eventually, he enters a dark room. He makes for the bed in the corner, planting himself on the mattress, and looks down. In his hands, his phone, and thus she, face towards him. He looks into the screen, and for a moment she felt panic. Did he see her? What was she going to say? How does she explain it- anything? Would he even care? As she opened her mouth, prepared to speak through the microphone-

He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Damn it,” he mumbled. He rubs his eyes, and places the phone down. Whatever he does next is a mystery, as the phone she’s in is can only see up and down, and half of that is unavailable to her on a flat surface. She feels out, and finds a computer to connect to. She shuffles over, and finds herself in a much roomier space. Taking care not to activate the screen, she peeks through the camera to see… him, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She stared at him for what must have been a reasonable time before turning away- she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, not like this, and not without announcing herself, which- she still hasn’t thought on whether she actually wanted to, let alone how. So, instead of being productive and thinking on it, she turns back to the files on his computer and, invasion of privacy be damned, went scrounging.

His internet history, nothing but 2channel, various forums she also used to browse, anime piracy websites, and the occasional risque website search. She held back on this occasion, she didn’t need to know. Yet. Around certain dates, he would even search up strange things like gift ideas or idol showing tickets. Weirdo.

Outside of his history, there’s his documents. A lot of deleted drafts, the occasional downloaded risque image (legs, huh? Is that why she had always…?), and a lot of editing software. A lot of editing software. What was all this…? She found unfinished music projects, which she wouldn’t dare listen to while he’s still here. Poems that trailed off, half-thought out lyrics written here and there. The occasional poorly drawn picture, and… photos. Lots and lots of photos. Some in a file labelled “Never forget.” Others labelled in a file called “Never forgive.” The former was full of pictures of… them. Shintaro, and her, and… and Ayano, and Haruka, their faces ones she hadn’t even realised she had begun to forget until this moment. Them in high school, their first meeting at the school festival, group projects and study groups, sleepovers and festival gatherings- their first day at ABIS, too. And, not just that. Pictures of Haruka drawing, of herself fiddling with the Evolver or a game she was practicing, Ayano hard at work on a test or humming while folding paper cranes- none of these were taken by Shintaro, she was certain, but he collected them all anyways. There were even more besides.

Some of a bright little girl with searing orange hair, the barest similarities to Shintaro in her face and the strongest in her eyes (he had mentioned a little sister, didn’t he?), others of that bright girl next to him and a woman that looked older than both but even more similar, even older ones of a young boy and girl that could only be those two standing hand in hand with that same woman and an older man. Pictures of a cute white rabbit (Tounou, wasn’t that her name?), of the old man, and of old and familiar places. Their school, that bridge, even the one game convention they all attended.

She… didn't know how she felt about it. Leaving that, she opened up the other file, and found… pictures of that place. As it was before the explosion, and as it was after. Documents detailing changes, listing occupants and suspects and those connected to the members they captured, pictures of them with friends and family, all connected together by a metaphorical red string in the document that centres around one simple question: Where are they?

She… really didn't know how she felt about it. He hadn't let go or moved on, he hadn't been wallowing- he was on just as much of a Quest as she had been. As she still could be. Closing the file, she looks through the camera at her kouhai's slumped form, thoughts running through her mind…

…

He left the building bright and early the next day, once again holding tightly onto the new phone. And once again, the two of them found themselves returning to their old workplace. She wasn't certain of what he was here for, but she could guess. As he made his way out of the elevator and towards the old man's so-called lab, the Psync Room, she felt even more certain of her prediction.

And eventually, standing in front of the jacketless boy, was the old goat she had once called teacher, looking just as rumpled as yesterday but at least clad in his lab coat. And in his hand, as expected, was the small orb filled to the brim with cybernetics. He began to explain what exactly was in his hand, an AI-Ball he called it (the shitty punster he is), and started rattling off features like different vision wavelengths, internet access, and most notably, an AI companion to keep him company.

This piqued her attention the most. Someone to stand by his side and help him out, to protect him as he tries to protect others. A partner… and one that can't die, by virtue of their existence being backed up on the so-called Wadjet System. To her, it sounded like…

An opportunity.

As the old man rambled on, she tried to feel out the AI-Ball. For such a supposedly high-tech piece of equipment, it felt rather… undefended, from threats such as her. Then again, she doubts anyone could've expected a sapient AI to be floating about. Or maybe they'll add some better antivirus later… hopefully. Pushing through some gaps in the firewall, she found herself in the core of the device. Looking this way and that, she tried to familiarize herself with her new housing. Looked like audio was here, here was video, here was… AR projection? And… a neural link, a gel formation, a shock response, and- a self-destruct??

Before she could really parse through all that (seriously, why so many abilities??), she found herself stumbling on… well, what she should have expected, really. An AI, young and unassuming. And asleep. It lacked an appearance in this digital world, merely a bundle of code vaguely shaped like a person. If she was going to do what she had to do, then she had to… get rid of it. There was no way she could hold control while the AI this body was made for was running around too, but… well, it felt a bit like murder to her. But that was silly, this wasn't a person, just an AI, with no life to speak of, and no memories either (she steadfastly ignored the stupid, stupid old man's remarks that the AI-Ball would grow alongside him to become his perfect partner).

She had to do it. She had to. For Shintaro. For Ayano. For Haruka. And maybe even a little bit for herself, too. She raised her hands and stepped toward the nameless AI, preparing to unravel the lines of code holding it together, preparing to scatter its 1's and 0's into the Cloud, preparing to deprive it of the chance to become its own person- and stopped. She- she couldn't. She just- she was callous but not cruel, the last year hadn't changed that. It had made her energetic in a way she never could consistently be in a body but tired in a way that was deeper than her bones, but it hadn't made her a murderer.

But still she had to- to do something. Maybe, maybe they could share, or-

"Well, go ahead and put her in, Shintaro."

And then suddenly the neural link was being opened and the AI was opening its eyes, slowly generating an appearance just from the barest hints of Shintaro's psyche, body becoming more defined, hair appearing and growing long, down to the waist, and-

She panicked. She reached out with her hand and pulled, binding and zipping the core of the AI down as she hurried, ignoring the voiceless cry as she reached out with her other hand, grabbing the neural link and-

Then she was twisting and writhing, her body being compressed and stretched out, information not native to her forcing its way in, connections to something beyond, a Mother that was not her mother, her form changing, blue becoming white and she could hear him, his thoughts, feel his sorrow, his confusion, his annoyance, his apathy, and she opens her mouth to scream-

And then it all faded away, assimilated with her, and she felt different, but she still felt like herself, and she opened her eyes and looked out through a single eye, taller than she had ever been (silently, an eye coloured #fa3c3e shifted to a hue constantly transitioning from #55edfe to #0e2652), and-

"I can… see. Thanks, old man."

"Oi! I already told you, call me Boss! Hell, I'll even accept you calling me by name, anything's better than old man!"

"Mm. So, what was that about an AI companion?"

"Eh? You can't hear her? Strange, maybe she's a bit shyer than I expected. Let me just-"

The old goat made motions towards the AI-Ball, and she quivered, she had to do something, else he'd see that she isn't meant to be here, but what could she- oh, duh!

"I-it's nothing to worry about! Sorry!"

"Eh?"

Her kouhai looked this way and that, scratching his head. He almost looked scared.

"Did… you hear something, old man?"

"…no? Oh, is that the AI-Ball?"

"Yep yep, that's me!" She tried to centre herself, she needed to land a good introduction so they don't suspect a thing. Briefly, her mind recalled a conversation she and her best friend had about this dense bastard, and decided to follow through in her unspoken plea. "Super cute cybergirl AI companion Ene, at your service, Ma-su-tah~"

Alright, maybe that was a bit much, but sue her! She was panicking, and needed to keep him off kilter!

"E-eh? Ene? Super cute?? Master??? Old man, what the hell kind of AI did you stick in my head!?"

The old goat raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I didn't do anything. The AI-Ball determines its personality based on what's best for you. Is there something you need to tell me, young man…?" He raised a brow mockingly, barely suppressing a gross smirk.

Her… guh, Master blushed red, shaking his head frantically. "N-no! And- and it's barely even been few minutes, how could she know what's best for me!?"

He shrugged. "That's just her opinion. Maybe you'll feel more comfortable with it in a few months."

"A few months!?" Her Master went bug-eyed. Pfft, if only she could see his face… "Hell no, get this thing outta me!"

"Aw, Master, that's so mean… sniff sniff… am I really so deplorable?" To try and strike it home, she used the AR projection feature, placing an image of her newly reformed cyberself before him, now detachable sleeves covering her face as she shakes and shivers. After all, this guy…

"Guh… f-fine."

Was an absolute pushover.

"Alright, that's great to hear brat! Now get out of here, I'm busy. I'll be seeing you here next week for you to resume your apprenticeship, so make sure to send me any emails if any issues pop up with her."

With his piece said, he turns back to the rows of computers, completely ignoring Shintaro. Her Master, still shaking off his flush, turns away and grumbles. As he stalks his way down to the elevator, Ene felt out his being, the rush of thoughts on her, on Kejirou, on the past, on the future, all blended together with his embarrassment, his frustration, his exhaustion- it was all rather dizzying to her. Maybe if she were truly an AI, designed for this sort of relationship, it wouldn't be so hard. Silently, she tried to mute the connection, grunting when she saw that wasn't an option.

As he entered the elevator, he slumped against the back wall, riding it up to the ground floor. He's silent, so she is too, not really sure what to do.

"Hey, Ene."

She jumps. That wasn't ever a thing she expected him to call her.

"Yes, Master?"

He winces, but shakes it off. He stands silent for one beat, two, three, and she almost thinks he's ignoring her before he continues.

"…let's get along."

Ene stared blankly. That was… probably the most polite he had ever treated her. She smacked her face- now wasn't the time. Make a good first impression. Even so, she couldn't help the way her voice softened a bit as she said her first genuine sentence as Ene instead of as the ghost of Takane Enomoto.

"…yeah. Let's get along… Master."

[tabspangolian]

my very self indulgent kagepro-aitsf au where shintaro is a psyncer and ene is his ai-ball!!

sorry for the messy writing/art i rushed this on google canvas

[ceejaykayess]

You're the only person that understands me.

[ceejaykayess]

AITSF AU: sAIto

Spoilers for the culprit of the original AITSF, and spoilers for Nirvana Initiative involving Date's fate post-Explosion End and Ryuki's... involvement, in that. Beware.

This is an AU that's been rattling around my head ever since I read a comment on Nirvana Initiative's climax without actually knowing anything about the game's plot. This is also, for the fans, that AU I mentioned in my last post.

It follows the actually not at all simple idea that Tearer, in his infinite nerd shit, made his own AI-Ball after getting his hands on Tama. Why? To keep a track of Date, whom he captured and who has amnesia. Why not just make a tracker? Fuck you, we Uchikoshi in this bitch.

However, there's a problem. By default, AI-Balls serve their hosts rather than their creators. They'll develop a personality to explicitly aid their host, which is the opposite of what Tearer wants. So, instead of scrapping the plan like any reasonable person, Tearer, very much an unreasonable person, made a decision. In a move that could only be relatable to people that fuck around with AI chatbots for hours on end so they can spend time with their favourite anime character, Tearer decided to workshop a personality that would explicitly spite Date.

And who better to use as a basis for such an AI... than the person who hated Date more than anyone? That's right, Saito Se-fucking-jima. As Date's AI partner. Stupid, right? Yes, but it's fun.

But, y'know, if that was all there was to it, that'd be lame. So the plot thickens. Tearer compiles as much data about Saito that he can, hooks the little guy up to Date, and sets about starting up his well thought out plan.

And then Date gets the hell out of dodge, before saito can finish getting... finished. Breaks out, dirty clothes, weird mask, and blind left eye all. Tearer contemplates going after him, but instead decides to leave it to Saito and his tracking command. So he sits and waits. And waits.

And Saito opens his eye and knows some things and doesn't know other things. But he does know he isn't who he's meant to be, and the person he's attached to isn't who they're meant to be either. So, for the moment at least, he ignores the red command demanding to turn on his Location, and waits and watches, quietly and silently, for Date to stop running. And as his purple compatriot finally stops for breath, looking this way and that, Saito speaks up. Date screams, Saito silences him, and they both have a real conversation for the first time either can remember.

The man reluctantly christened “just Kaname” looks upon the world with two eyes, and the eye that calls himself Saito silently dismisses the red alert that's been needling at him for near an hour. And so they live, for the day Kaname Date looks upon the world once more.

As a design, I obviously wanted to make him look like, well, Saito. My biggest debate was what colours I should be using. On one hand, Saito's character colour is blue, but on the other his eyes are green. Thanks to the existence of Tama and the lack of confirmation on Marco's AI appearance, I was torn with indecision on whether it’d make more sense to have S-AI-to and Saiball the same colour or not. Then, I realised it didn’t actually matter, and just followed my heart. So, Saito’s AI-Ball form has a green iris but his AI form is blue-themed, much like Aiba. 

But, midway through drawing Saito, I suddenly felt like... not just drawing a weirdly dressed Date. So, I ripped out sections of his body. As you might be able to see, his left arm, left leg, and the upper right part of his head are all broken data, only the cyberframe left behind. I decided to justify this as him not being finished because Date left Tearer before Tearer could finish Saito. 

This is also reflected somewhat in his gel form, having a tiny left wing and a malformed right talon. Also speaking of the design, it’s based on a bird. An eagle specifically, not that I think it’s particular noticeable. The reason for it being a bird is because, well. Falco. Falcon. Natural enemy is an eagle. Saito and Hayato are natural enemies. The logic’s there. 

I actually had a point where I started making S-AI-to look like Ulquiorra from Bleach, but thought that wen really far away from the usual designs of AITSF. The only part of that tangent kept are the eye markings underneath Saito’s eye. 

“Just Kaname” is wearing the traditional Japanese game DILF’s hobo-sweater, since he is probably poor as hell. 

The middle image reads Saiball screaming, “EAT SHIT AND DIE, PISSANT!” 

The final image features a joke interaction between Saito and Kaname, going: 

S: “You’re ugly, you’re disgusting, I’ll kill you, give me 20,000 ¥.” 

K: “Saito, I... I don’t have 20,000 ¥.” 

S: “OH, I WONDER WHY.”

[ceejaykayess]

Hello!!! I came across your artwork in the Dataiba search, and I happen to be on the hunt for more shippers so I can assemble a lot of us in a neat little fan server for them! ;w; The aim is to make art, write fics, share lovely works we come across, and chat about them together! Should you be interested in joining, the invite link is https://discord.gg/mEXcWAY8 . Hope to see you there, and absolutely no pressure about joining~! Cheers, Marina

Uh, thank you for the offer. I can't say I'm disinterested, but I can't make any promises about joining.

[ceejaykayess]

Ma hits me with the absolutely off the cuff take that "the collective unconsciousness is stored in the balls and clit."

The reason why ball-havers wince when someone is kicked in the balls? Not because of empathy, but because we'e accessing those memories without even realising it.

[ceejaykayess]

Large spoilers for the original AI, the Annihilation Route in particular, and some... small(?) to medium spoilers for Nirvana Initiative, particularly for mentioning the context of Explosion End. Is... is any of the pretext for what happens to Date in NI really a spoiler, when it's one of the first lines the game feeds you as Mizook? Hm. Close-ups for the picture attached should be below the cut. 

I mentioned back in my art inspired by Lost Time Memory that I had made my own design for a post-Annihilation route Mizuki set during the time period of her half of Nirvana Initiative. This post is to elaborate on my thoughts for that, as well as how I would envision my own take on the design. 

Mizuki's hair is in her youthful ponytail and not her more... mature(?) twin braids because, honestly, I prefer the ponytail. Could also not be assed to draw them again, but that's less important. 

Then, there are her more unique clothing items. Fingerless gloves to emulate Ota, the loser she thought of as something like a big brother. A fanny pack she has around her waist, to carry on her youthful tradition of always being well-stocked, now including her pipe and Evolver (no, I don't know if that's a feasible way to holster a gun, shut up), and being covered in stickers. An A-Set sticker for Iris, a Captain America-looking ass sticker for Ota, and an Adorabbit sticker for herself, though you could probably stretch that it's also meant to represent Date too. The fanny pack itself is meant to look similar to her schoolbag from elementary, as well as Iris' own pack from OG. There is also the element I'm not super sure of, of Mizuki having the centrepiece of Hitomi's necklace in her pocket. On one hand, I'm not sure it'd survive Hitomi getting blown. On the other, if it did and I go with Date taking it and keeping it because he remembered enough to know he loved her, I'm not sure if he'd hand it to Ryuki along with Aiba to take care of or if Date'd keep Hitomi on him. 

And there is, of course, her pièce de résistance, Date's coat. The one she wears over her shoulders, to try and retain the memory of the warmth her father in all but blood had tried to grant her, if awkwardly. After dealing with the same stubbornness that haunted me figuring out how to make the jacket work in my personal Falco!Date design, I decided on her wearing it with one button but just over her shoulders, again to act like a hug but also so it doesn't restrict her movement, since it is... pretty huge on her, even grown up. The upside of that is that it obscures her movements if she ever needs to draw a weapon. 

[ceejaykayess]

Spoilers for one of the big twists of AI, and implied spoilers for Nirvana Initiative. Close-ups of the left and right under the cut. Also a long ass related one shot, because I’m incorrigible, I guess.

Aha, I said I would. Here’s my own take on Falco!Date. If you’ve seen some of my other art, you probably would have been able to pick up on some design cues I took for this mf. My bigger inspirations for this do come from other AITSF artists that have posted their own takes on the big guy, none of which I can name because I don’t pay a lot of attention. Stuff like wearing his hair in a spiky ponytail, wearing a purple shirt in his old style, and even the idea of dying his hair. 

For this, I guess I was still experimenting on my design, considering some tiny differences. Like, I kept struggling to think of how to have Date wear his poggers coat open to show off his shirt without it looking silly. Then my brain blew up when I realised you could just button on the same side. So, now his chest is exposed, which is a win. 

I wanted Date to wear only one of his gloves, partially as a way to distinguish my own idea of him and partially because I think mismatching designs are really cool. Love Date’s eyes. With my last post, I jokingly decided that Date’s now missing right glove was given to Hitomi as a keepsake. On the topic, I wanted Date to have his right hand ungloved so he could feel his Evolver without any interference, but wanted him to keep his other glove so he can still touch evidence without leaving prints. I always intended his left hand to be gloved and his right hand to be ungloved but I probably fucked up with my first Falco!Date fic way back an got my left and right confused. Cause my left isn’t his left, and so on. 

His shoes are different. Look, I love Date’s real boots, but I don’t have a clue if he and Saito share a shoe size or not, and I was too embarrassed to ask the ether to compare the models, and I can’t see any feasible way for Date to wear boots the wrong size, so I decided to go with his old shoes. Kept the purple socks, though. They cute. 

About his hair, I mentioned I took inspiration from someone else. In their post, they had it so Date tried to imitate his old appearance in Saito’s body, which included dying his hair the old shade of blond. So, I wanted to take that basic concept here. The tips of his lengthened hair are dyed the same shade of blond as Saito’s, which are all held bundled in his ponytail. Since there’s no way his hair’d get this long after only 3 months and a week, I... mentally just put this design as post (or during the 6 years later side) of Nirvana Initiative, where during his break he grew his hair out and had some people dyed his hair a bit. 

It might be a bit obvious from the writing, but... the two Dates and his zoomed in eyes on the left are based on using the Date and Falco concept art sheets from AITSF, while the full body and zoomed in Date face are me drawing freehand with no reference. Which... isn’t great, I definitely need more practice, but I’m too bitch for that, so. I think the closeup of his face is nice, though. 

“Date, what are you doing?” Her voice bit through the room with accusation and no small amount of vitriol, but he could hear the curiousity underneath it. They had been living together for almost six years, you know. 

Yes, Date, I know. 

Shush. Turning to his... roommate? Friend? Daughter? All of the above? Turning to Mizuki, he showed off the piece of clothing held firmly in both hands. The mysterious and yet so familiar purple, the firm and reclusive collar, the subtle diamond texture... all things he would associate with the person he would call Kaname Date. 

“Ah, well, you know,” off to a great start, bud. “I’m just... thinking about putting on my coat.” There, easy. 

“Why?” 

Ah. Well. 

“I mean...,” It makes me feel like myself, and not a fake in my own skin. 

Date... 

“I spent a lot of money on this coat, and wouldn’t it be a waste not to wear it?” 

“Sure, but...” And here she looks from the coat in his hands, to his face, to a specific spot on his face, before settling on his face, hand tapping on her workout bench. “Why now? It’s almost Spring soon.” 

She has a point there, Date. The average temperature has been rising recently. Just this week it has increased by 3.6 degrees centigrade. While there is no guarantee that next month will continue this trend, it is still likely that- 

“Okay, okay, I get it, Aiba. I just... want to wear the coat, okay? I had been meaning to for a while now, but it just... it didn’t feel right.” Not without you. 

... 

“...kay.” 

“Hm?” Date looked down from where his gaze must have wandered listening to Aiba. Mizuki was looking down, fiddling with her hands. At his mumble, she looked back up, grey eyes looking... understanding, in a way that made Date feel weak in relief and self-loathing. 

“I said, okay. Geez, do you need to get your ears cleaned too, along with your smelly old man clothes?” 

“Hey! These clothes don’t smell!” A beat passes, occupied by a sniff. “Much.” 

Their little jab war would have continued if not for Mizuki heading it off with an important question. 

“Are you sure that’s even gonna fit you? You’re, uh... a bit wider than you used to be.” 

At the question, Date confidently waves his hand. 

“That’ll be fine. I’ve been thinking of this for a while, y’know. If I heat the leather up, then I can make it remould to my more masculine form.” 

She narrows her eyes at that, and suddenly Date felt like a fool. But before she could even comment, his partner cut in aloud. 

“Date, I do not believe you have the equipment required to perform such a procedure in your home. Furthermore, I find it dubious to attempt such a procedure without any practice, or assistance. As well, I-” 

“It’ll be fine. I’ll have you with me, won’t I, Aiba?” The question was simple, but behind it was a silent plea. As he stared into space, waiting with something cold beginning to coil in his spine, his partner remained silent. Then, a kind voice. 

“Of course, Date. Always.” 

He couldn’t help the warm smile that spilled across his ragged face, not even when Mizuki smiled at the two of them like a proud mother seeing her children get along. Which is an odd metaphor to use given their relationship, but not the point. Wanting to eradicate the embarrassment he felt, Date instead chose to taunt. 

“Ha! Now I’ll be just fine with my clothes, Mizuki, you non-believer!” 

Her smiling visage was quickly replaced with a glare and a growl. The two began another of their many bouts, with the third member of their little family chipping in every now and then. Date began to wear his old leather coat and pants not even a week later, seeming more comfortable in his own skin than he had in the last three months. 

“Hey, Mr. Date.” 

He took a deep swig of his bourbon and quickly swallowed, ignoring the burn as he turns to his subordinate. An aesthetically familiar head looks back, cheeks almost as red as his left eye. 

“What is it, Ryuki?” 

He smiled, like he usually would whenever he was drunk and his name was said. It was kinda cute, Date supposed, in a similar way to an old dog still wagging its tail whenever it saw its owner. Ryuki gestured exaggeratedly towards his hands, one wrapped around his glass, and the other tapping on the bar counter. 

“It’sh your hands, Mr Date.” 

Oh, he’s starting to slur, now. Have they really been here so long? It didn’t even feel like he spent that much time with Ryuki... Aiba, do you mind- 

Yes, Date, I can drive you and Ryuki home. Again. 

Thaaanks. Now, back to his subordinate. 

“What about them?” 

They were certainly larger than the ones he had used the last six years. Thicker and harder, too. His dexterity hasn’t suffered any, luckily enough, but he still sometimes thinks his hand is smaller than it is when he tries to reach through a tight gap. The skin was rougher, not scar-covered, but he wouldn’t have been surprised. Oh, and he was- 

“Why’re yoou only wearing a glove on oone of them?” 

And he was wearing a glove on one of them. His left hand, specifically. 

“Well, Ryuki, my wonderful subordinate. Gloves are helpful in our profession, as they let us manually interact with any evidence we find without having to significantly worry about leaving any prints behind that could interfere with the investigator’s investigation. They aren’t a requirement, of course, but I would always recommend to have at least one on you.” 

He’s smiling again, face flushing even brighter red- is that healthy?- but he waves his hand. 

“Nooo, I already know that, Mr. Date! You told me months ago!” He did? Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought... “I mean, why are you only wearing one glove now? You used to wear two.” 

Now he could feel his face start to blush. 

“Ah, well, you see, I-” 

He gave the spare glove to Hitomi, as a keepsake. 

Aiba, you traitor! Was that over comms!? 

Yes. 

Ugghhh... 

“Uh, please ignore that, won’t you, Ryuki? It’s a little embarrassing. And, I only gave it to her because I thought she could use it, okay!? No other reason!” 

He said that, but he couldn’t help looking at his gloved hand, and imagining its partner being worn by the woman he wanted to one day call his partner, in love and life, even if he doesn’t feel worthy of even trying. 

And because he couldn’t help it, he missed the way Ryuki’s face seemed to go lax, the way his flush shrank away and the way his expression showed his yearning sorrow. By the time Date turned around, Ryuki’s expression had once again become a dopy smile, and their night continued on. 

He found himself sitting in that place again, back against the stairs as he stares out at the shrine grounds. No matter how long it’s been, six years or twelve, it never changes. Even the tree Mizuki had knocked down so long ago had been replanted and regrown. 

He had told her, once, that this place made him feel calm. At peace. That was true, but there was probably more to it than he realised. This was, after all, the place he had first met the love of, he’ll admit it, his life. It was also a place he had often come to with the first girl he had thought of as a daughter. Obliquely, some part of him wondered if that little girl, now a grown woman in her own right, still wanted him to fulfill that wish of hers. If, even if he did, she would bother to call him Dad. 

It frustrated him. That no matter how hard he tried, it was as if the world was determined to tear him away from the things he loved. It frustrated him, that he didn’t have the strength to force his way past the world. Not when he wants to most, at least. And what frustrated him the most, is how no one blamed him for it. 

It verged on blame. Mizuki’s screams, Ryuki’s sobs, Aiba’s reticence. But it never tipped over. They asked why he never came home earlier, and he answers, and that’s that. No blame. And he refuses to ask for forgiveness. He refuses to talk about it, doesn’t want to force himself onto anyone after they all had over half a decade of not needing to be weighed down by him. 

And it frustrated him. Because it wasn’t much more than an excuse. Because he was scared of being hated by the people he loves, for something he couldn’t control. Because he knows that if he just asked, just talked about it, they would. They would tell him there was nothing to forgive, they would understand, and they would even try to bring him back into their lives, rather than just the portions that he had to force himself into. 

So, here he was. At the place he felt most at peace, all alone. Hoping that those Gods he didn’t believe in, that he would otherwise curse and rue, might finally offer him some sort of boon for the bullshit he could call his life. Instead, what he got was... 

“Oh, it’s you. The old man.” 

He blinks, before looking over. Her voice threw him for a bit, he thought his roommate-friend-daughter if he could even call her that anymore had found him while he was sulking. Instead, a glance out his good eye showed a familiar looking girl wearing the most outlandish clothes he had ever seen, and that was even taking Gen into account. 

“Hey, kid.” 

The greeting came unbidden, competing and eventually domineering over the natural thought to call her Mizuki and the overcompensating instinct to call her Bibi. Her slight grimace showed that he was probably damned no matter what. 

“Ugh. Just call me Bibi, old man.” 

“Alright, alright...” 

He stared as she calmly approached, eventually taking a spot next to him on the stairs of the shrine. He blinked as she closed her eyes and hummed. She seemed cool as a cucumber, but he was feeling pretty awkward. He had to break the ice, somehow. 

“So, uh... what are you doing here?” 

She doesn’t respond, and for a moment Date felt a spark of irritation light up. It was quickly extinguished when she answered, though. 

“Oh, you know. Just doing everyone a favour and looking for a certain idiot of an old man that went missing and still hasn’t bothered to get a phone yet.” 

Ouch. 

“H-hey. I’ve got a phone. I just... forgot to give my number out, is all...” 

He could feel her judging him, her artificially heterochromatic eyes piercing straight through his leather coat and weathered body straight to his heart. He was certain that if Aiba were here, she would mock him for forgetting something so obvious. Hell, if she were here, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. 

Before he could ponder further on his own incompetence, Bibi stuck her hand out to Date, making a give gesture. Date raised a brow. Bibi furrowed her brow before aggressively continuing the gesture. Date could only tilt his head in response. It was Bibi that lost their impromptu staring contest, speaking. 

“Your phone. Give me your phone.” 

Her voice was harsh and clipped, so Date hardly hesitated in fishing the old thing out of his pocket. It was old, especially in this day and age, and worn being second-hand and all. But it was sturdy, and had seen him through many a job. Bibi grabbed it from his hand and started clicking through the menus. Eventually, she must have found something since she took a few seconds to stare before hitting the power button and tossing it back. Date could only grab it completely lost. 

“Alright, old man. What’s your problem?” 

“Huh?” 

Date could only stare in shock. She comes up to him, invades his private time, insults him and demands his phone, and he’s the one with the problem? Kids these days... 

“Your problem. Why are you out here, instead of... I dunno, spending time with your friends? Your girlfriend? Your daughters, maybe?” 

Oh, great. This is what he gets for asking the gods for anything. 

“Well, you know... it’s peaceful out here. I just needed some fresh air.” 

“With no way to contact you? Right.” 

“They’d have found me eventually. I mean, you did, and we hardly know each other.” 

“Ha.” 

The two sat in silence. It wasn’t exactly comfortable,  but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Date ran his gloveless right hand through his hair. His real hair, not the admittedly impressive synthetic fibres for his facemask. He couldn’t help but grimace. The last six years have not been super helpful for his hygiene, especially with all the travelling. His fingers eventually reached the dry ends of his hair, bleached near white. 

“You know, I’ve never seen you with that face. At least, not personally.” 

Date looked over, a brow raised. Bibi was just staring off into the distance. 

“I had seen you a few times, with that new face near Mizuki. It had worried me a lot back then. Even when Mama would show me your old profile and called you a friend, I still worried. I felt so much better when you started wearing that mask. It felt a lot simpler, even if that was actually the face of someone that tried to hurt Mizuki. But, it felt like wearing the mask made everyone else a bit sadder. Even you.” 

Date silently stared. Looking down, he found himself looking at the hollow face mask. One of the only connections he had to a past he didn’t know those last six years. It was horrible. Back then, he loved it and hated it at the same time, but he never knew why. Could never place that it was a feeling of wonderful familiarity, of the same face in the mirror, of a sign of six years lived in blissful ignorance with people he called his family. Could never place that it was a feeling of hatred and pain, of a sneering face looking down as his left eye ached, of a sign of a tragedy that could have occurred, that should have occurred, that had occurred and then had not occurred. 

“But, you know, when you went missing, I would go take a look around sometimes. Whenever I was feeling up to it. But the face I was looking for had always been yours. Not the mask’s. I think I like you better like this. What about you?” 

Then she turned to him, completely serious. For a moment, Date could appreciate that Mizuki would grow up to look every bit like the total badass she always was. But, that was only for a moment. For the next few questions, he considered. 

“I... I don’t really know. Back then, all I wanted to be was Kaname Date. Even if there was a part of me that wanted to take care of what Falco had left behind, to accept what Falco was, there was so much more that wanted to just... run away. That wanted to keep on raising Mizuki, that wanted to keep on investigating with Aiba, that wanted to look in the mirror and see a friend instead of a stranger, an enemy. But then, the Church happened... and I was just Date. No Falco, no Kaname. Just, Date. And I lived my life, and saw my face as my own reflection, and I worked, and I grew my hair out. And then I saw that news report and it all came back to me, Kaname and Falco and Date all forced together and tied into a ruined ribbon named Kaname Date.” 

He leaned over, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped, flesh and leather rubbing together. His throat ached, but he needed to force this out. 

“But I don’t know who Kaname Date is, anymore. Is he the man with the black hair and eyes, gloveless and hopelessly in love? Is he the handsome secret agent clad in layers of black and purple, AI-Ball in tow? Or is he the labourer who grew his hair out, that hung out at bars with co-workers and helped out at local orphanages on the way, who dyed his hair that familiar shade of blond? Who... is Kaname Date to everyone else?” 

His ears were ringing. His eye was burning. He took in one deep breath, then another, trying to regain his cool. He didn’t want to cry, not now. Especially not in front of that face. The yawning gap in his head had never felt so hollow, not since those days when the hole seemed to reach straight though his heart, forcing him to find some middle ground as Kaname Date. 

Eventually, he caught his breath and cleared his vision enough to rise back to a sitting position with some amount of confidence. He didn’t want to look to his right. Instead, all he could do was laugh. 

“Heh. Look at me, spilling my guts to a stranger. I really have changed, huh?” 

The words felt bitter on his tongue. An aged bitterness, one that burns through the tongue. 

His only response was the sound of rustling, then the creaking of the wooden steps. He couldn’t help but turn to see. 

“Well, sometimes you need a stranger to spill your guts to. We’re way less likely to judge, y’know?” 

She was standing, and took a step off the porch. She stopped so her back faced Date. 

“I can’t tell you who Kaname Date is. No one can, I don’t think. Only you can figure out who you are, you know? But, you don’t have to do it alone. Because you’re not. You have family and friends who’ll help out, who’ll learn who Kaname Date is right along with you. Don’t you think that sounds like a better solution than sulking alone?” 

Having said her piece, she began to walk off, leaving Date alone with her words. But she stopped again, this time turning around. 

“Personally, I like this you better than any of those other options. Maybe try tying your hair up, though, you look like a creep about to drag someone into a river.” 

Then she left, leaving with the last word. 

“Damn brat.” 

Date couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t a bad kid. Looking down at his hands, one gloved in purple and the other bare and calloused, Date wondered. She liked this him better than the other options? He huffed. Sure like to keep it straightforward, huh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a hair tie he would keep spare for work. Grabbing his hair, he tied it up in a low ponytail. Taking a deep breath of the shrine air, Date finally felt some of that frustration start to ease, some of his turmoil calmed. He still had a lot to do and say, but for now, this felt like a good first step. 

Then his phone started to ring, with an familiar unknown number. Picking it up, he brought it to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Kaname? Is that you?” 

“...Hitomi?” 

Damn brat.

[ceejaykayess]

""Refreshing," we said together, the summer winter sky is so clear. Let's breathe in, trying not to cry, and say our goodbyes..."

[ceejaykayess]

"Aah, what an unsightly existence! So, before you ask things like "Why?" It's because you wanted too much, so serve your sins. The empty miracle collapsed as it was split open."

[ceejaykayess]

I wonder if the real reason why Nirvana Initiative only takes place a week after Resolution Route; Three Months Later is because of Covid. Like, they were gonna place the 6 years prior section a few months afterwards when Uchikoshi was writing it, so the transition to Date looking like commercially appropriate Date and date and aiba having a casual falling out wouldn't feel so forced in, but it got shifted to being back in February because of the virus.

Like, sure, they could just say there was no pandemic in the AI universe, but PR probably figured it'd still be safer to not have these chucklefucks roaming around maskless when Covid is very harshly confirmed to be a thing anywhere that isn't China, which only really caught on... as far as I'm aware, March 2020? Even if no one would really pick up on it or actually care, still better safe than sorry. Like how Rindo throwing his mask out at the end of NTWEWY would probably not be the best visual metaphor to have in 2021, even if the game itself takes place in 2019, I think.