Two years.
That's how long it's been since Ren Amamiya vanished from his world and woke up in this one—reborn in a 14-year-old body, stripped of his team, his world, and every answer he once thought he had.
He was 17 when the final battle ended. Maruki had been defeated, reality restored, and for a brief moment, it felt like peace. But peace never lasts—not for someone like him.
He still remembers the moment he opened his eyes here.
Dressed in his Phantom Thief attire. Mask still in place. Gloves stained from a fight that no longer existed. At first, he thought he was in another palace—some remnant cognition clinging to life. But then the realization hit: this wasn't a dream or illusion. This was the real world.
A world eerily similar to his own… yet profoundly different.
The powers remained—Persona, Third Eye, all of it. He could still call upon Arsène and the rest without needing the Metanav. He could still feel the pulse of the Metaverse around him—just beneath the surface of reality.
But no app.
No team.
No Velvet Room.
No Morgana, Futaba, Ryuji, Ann, Yosuke…
Not even Lavenza and Igor.
The Metaverse still existed—Palaces, Mementos, and even… the Reaper. That fact alone should have been impossible. Yaldabaoth was gone. Mementos should have collapsed with him. And Maruki? He accepted defeat. He let go. This twisted world shouldn't exist. But it does.
And so, Ren did the only thing he could.
He explored.
Mementos was still vast—larger than before. Most layers were sealed. The further he went, the darker it grew. The deeper, the more human it felt. Not in form, but in weight. Fear, shame, envy, and hatred—they coated the walls like fog. This world wasn't just broken—it was suffocating in its negativity.
He couldn't explore it on foot forever. The Reaper still hunted. So he pivoted. He became what the world needed most… A shadow in the alleyways. A blade in the dark. A name whispered between desperate lips.
Joker.
But this time, he wasn't just stealing hearts. He was changing lives even outside the metaverse. No Metaverse required—he could use his Persona in the real world now, just as easily as breathing. There were no bounds. No delay.
Just action.
Criminals collapsed in public, confessing to crimes no one even knew they'd committed. Abusive parents. Corporate tyrants. Corrupt officials. Rapists. Murderers. Predators. All fell one by one.
Joker hunted them like ghosts. Silent. Relentless. Unstoppable.
And in two short years, an urban legend became something more.
A myth.
A hero to the people.
A criminal to the law.
He became a modern-day Robin Hood in some way. The one who was revealing the darker side of society and saving people for free.
Children spoke of the masked boy. Survivors whispered about the demon-eyed ghost. Online forums debated whether he even existed. The government denied everything.
But deep down, the people knew.
He was real.
Joker was real, and that was all that he needed. As long as people believe in his existence, he can go further down Mementos. It was a simple concept, really.
After two years of searching, he'd found a lead—or so he hoped. If he was wrong, he'd waste three years at Advanced Nurturing High School. Then again, with direct access to Mementos and Palaces, he could always slip away.
Advanced Nurturing High School—this was the answer he was searching for. During his exploration of Mementos, a lot of shadows he met were students, and most specifically students of Advanced Nurturing High School. Some were students who were expelled; others were students who were in 'lower' classes and developed heavy hatred in their hearts.
If his theory is correct about Mementos, due to how huge it is currently. He might be exploring it from the wrong place itself. Maybe if he tried exploring it from there, he could find what he is looking for; either way, this was his only clue so far.
Ren leaned back in his bus seat, staring at the ceiling. Three years. He'd be 19 by the time he left this school, assuming he stayed. Were his friends alive? Did they remember him? The collapsing palace had been chaos, but they'd been far enough to escape. They had to be. He clenched his fist, ignoring the ache in his chest.
"Excuse me, would anyone give this old lady a seat?" A girl's voice cut through the hum of the bus—bright, bubbly, and almost too perfect. She wore the same uniform as Ren, her smile radiant.
He took a glance around him and saw no one getting up from their seats. It was natural after all. Most people weren't willing to give up a seat just for a stranger, even if that person was old.
"She can have my seat," Ren said, lifting his hand a bit for them to notice him. He didn't mind giving up a seat.
"Thank you very much."
"Thank you a lot, young man."
"It's no problem." He said.
A couple of minutes passed by before the bus ultimately came to its stop.
'I hope I am right about this.' He thought to himself while descending from the bus.
"Excuse me!" That bubbly voice again. The girl jogged up, her smile unwavering. "Thanks for earlier."
"Earlier?" He asked, a bit confused by what she meant.
"You know, giving up your seats for the old lady, thank you for this."
Ren tilted his head. "It's nothing."
"By the way, I'm Kushida Kikyou, Class 1-D." Her tone was warm, but her posture was practiced, like a performer on stage.
"Amamiya Ren, also 1-D."
Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, we're classmates! Want to find the room together, Amamiya-kun?"
"Sure." He nodded, offering a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. She was too friendly, too eager. He'd met people like her before—masks hiding sharper edges. Akechi and Madarame were just like that. He hopes it's just him being paranoid for once.
The two walked side by side through the clean, marble-floored hallway of the Advanced Nurturing High School campus. It was far more pristine than any other school Ren had seen before. No signs of aging walls, no scuffs on the floors, no graffiti, no flickering lights. Everything was new. Almost too new. He was so used to Mementos now that this felt like a lab more than a school.
Imagine if Shujin Academy was like this; Me, Ryuji, and Ann would have been expelled the first day itself, especially Ryuji. After a while of walking and exploring, they finally reached the class.
"Class 1-D," Kushida said, stopping at a door. The sign gleamed, but the "D" carried a faint stigma. The shadows had ranted about "D"—the lowest rung. This was it.
Ren glanced at Kushida, her smile still perfect. "Ready, Amamiya-kun?"
"Yeah."