[ Fortunately, he doesn't have to mete out his entire life story out in a vague hope that it'll help them escape. Though at this rate, the memory mindscape might just do it for him anyway. JJ's half right in that there is a painting at the heart of it—not just for this memory, but as the foundation of the entire Palace. He just isn't looking in the right direction.
But Yusuke already knows everything that's about to unfold, frowning as everyone crowds around the 'treasure.' ]
No... that one's not important. [ The real painting is on its way, though. Without a clear exit, he tacks on hurriedly, ] JJ, what you're about to see—
[ There's not enough time to explain. Morgana stops bouncing about long enough to tear away the sheet covering the canvas—only to reveal an artfully rendered henohenomoheji. An obvious fake. There's some shouts, and everyone scatters, dispersed by security fences that sudden spring to life around the courtyard, very nearly penning them all in.
From thereon, a man in golden robes appears, his flashy appearance and snide speech spelling him out as the owner of this labyrinth of a museum.
...It's strange to see him again after all this, but Yusuke holds his ground as the memory plays out. He relives the truth behind Madarame and Sayuri, the formative painting that'd set him on the pursuit of beauty. The shock's dulled over time, the last remaining portrait of his mother left hanging in a quiet cafe, best viewed on rainy days with a plate of Sojiro's curry and the company of friends.
But it's still strange to see it again in such perfect clarity, not at all dulled by time. Thankfully, as the crew attacks Madarame's true, more monstrous form, the cracks in the memory do finally start to show themselves, like spiderwebs in broken, splintered glass.
The fight won't last long, he sways gently to bump his shoulder against JJ's, needling him for his attention. He's been quiet. ]
no subject
But Yusuke already knows everything that's about to unfold, frowning as everyone crowds around the 'treasure.' ]
No... that one's not important. [ The real painting is on its way, though. Without a clear exit, he tacks on hurriedly, ] JJ, what you're about to see—
[ There's not enough time to explain. Morgana stops bouncing about long enough to tear away the sheet covering the canvas—only to reveal an artfully rendered henohenomoheji. An obvious fake. There's some shouts, and everyone scatters, dispersed by security fences that sudden spring to life around the courtyard, very nearly penning them all in.
From thereon, a man in golden robes appears, his flashy appearance and snide speech spelling him out as the owner of this labyrinth of a museum.
...It's strange to see him again after all this, but Yusuke holds his ground as the memory plays out. He relives the truth behind Madarame and Sayuri, the formative painting that'd set him on the pursuit of beauty. The shock's dulled over time, the last remaining portrait of his mother left hanging in a quiet cafe, best viewed on rainy days with a plate of Sojiro's curry and the company of friends.
But it's still strange to see it again in such perfect clarity, not at all dulled by time. Thankfully, as the crew attacks Madarame's true, more monstrous form, the cracks in the memory do finally start to show themselves, like spiderwebs in broken, splintered glass.
The fight won't last long, he sways gently to bump his shoulder against JJ's, needling him for his attention. He's been quiet. ]
It's about time that we get back.