Why the Subway Slammer Might Be a Better Intro Villain Than Kamoshida

Persona 5: The Phantom X took the Western gacha gaming world by storm last month, and with it came one of the most talked-about characters in recent memory: Takeyuki Kiuchi, better known as the Subway Slammer. The moment he declared that the entire subway was his “for the slammin’,” the internet lost its collective mind. Memes flooded every corner of social media, and it didn’t take long for the discourse to turn sour. Some players began insisting that Kiuchi is a poorly written joke of a villain, especially when compared to the iconic Kamoshida from the original Persona 5. But here’s a hot take for 2026: Kiuchi might actually be a better introductory antagonist, and he deserves way more appreciation than he’s getting.

Let’s be real—when Kiuchi first appears, he seems like nothing more than a petty nuisance. While our protagonist, Wonder, is still learning the ropes of the Metaverse, Kiuchi is aggressively bumping into women on the subway platform. It’s annoying, yes, but hardly the stuff of nightmares. Yet, in true Persona fashion, things escalate quickly. Soon he’s shoving people onto the tracks, and through Wonder’s ability to see potential futures, players get a chilling glimpse of where his path is headed: infanticide and manslaughter. The stakes are set firmly from the get-go. He’s a malignant problem that needs to be dealt with before tragedy strikes, and that ticking clock makes every encounter feel urgent.

Compare that to Kamoshida. By the time the Phantom Thieves confront him, he’s already been routinely physically assaulting multiple students and sexually assaulting at least one to the point where she attempts suicide. That’s where the story begins. It’s undeniably dark and makes for a powerful opening, but it also creates a narrative problem: every villain that follows feels like a step down in stakes. An art plagiarist? A greedy CEO? After Kamoshida, they just don’t hit the same. Kiuchi, on the other hand, starts small and leaves plenty of room for escalation. The game can gradually ramp up the villainy without ever needing to top an impossibly high bar right out of the gate. As the Phantom Thieves move from a subway menace to bigger threats, the sense of growth feels organic rather than deflated.

But the genius of Kiuchi goes beyond pacing. He’s a villain who reflects the times, and that’s something Persona has always excelled at. Every scene with Kamoshida serves to paint him as unrelentingly evil—which makes total sense for a character who is, frankly, a monster. We don’t want to understand him; we just want to shove him in a cage and throw away the key. Kiuchi, though? He’s buffoonish enough that the game can actually explore his psyche without feeling icky. As players delve into his Palace, his backstory unravels in unexpected ways. At first, he seems like a resentful salaryman who blames his failed baseball career on Motoha Arai, the first Phantom Thief recruit. But the deeper you go, the clearer it becomes that his issues have nothing to do with a single incident. Kiuchi is a man who has never taken responsibility for anything in his life. Every missed opportunity, every personal failure—he pins it all on women. His subway-slamming antics aren’t just random acts of aggression; they’re the impotent lashing out of an entitled loser who feels the world owes him something.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? In 2026, with the Bro Rogan podcast sphere still chipping away at young men’s brains, Kiuchi’s story feels startlingly contemporary. His worldview is a exaggerated caricature of a very real, very dangerous mindset. And that subway shoving? It might seem comically over the top, but it’s not as far-fetched as one might think. The “Butsukari Otoko,” or “bumping man,” is a real social issue that originated in Japan and has since popped up worldwide. Perpetrators intentionally bump into people in crowded spaces, often targeting women, and because of plausible deniability, law enforcement often hesitates to step in. Kiuchi is a heightened version of that, but the kernel of truth makes him genuinely unsettling beneath the absurdity.

Speaking of absurdity, let’s address the elephant in the room: the Subway Slammer is very silly. That’s undeniable. But here’s the thing—when has Persona ever shied away from being a little ridiculous? The franchise thrives on over-the-top villain monologues and cartoonish motivations. Even Kamoshida, as grotesque as he is, stands in the teachers’ lounge and dramatically declares that the students’ futures are his to take. It’s campy, and it’s exactly why we love these games. Kiuchi proclaiming ownership of the subway for his slamming pleasure is peak Persona absurdity, and it’s meant to be laughed at as much as it’s meant to be taken seriously.

Does that make him a poorly written character? Absolutely not. If anything, the humor disarms the player just enough to make Kiuchi approachable from a character study perspective. Most people wouldn’t want to get inside the head of a child predator like Kamoshida—that’s a level of darkness that feels almost too invasive. But the guy who bumps into people on the subway? He’s fascinating because he’s so pathetic. The game lets you peel back layers of his psychology without making you feel gross, and by the end, you understand exactly how a seemingly ordinary man can become a villain. That’s a far more nuanced take than “here’s an irredeemably evil teacher, now destroy him.”

Of course, not everyone will agree. Some players will always prefer the shock and gravity of Kamoshida’s arc, and that’s valid. But for a gacha game spin-off that needs to onboard a wide audience, Kiuchi strikes a brilliant balance. He’s menacing enough to establish stakes, funny enough to inspire memes (which only boost the game’s visibility), and layered enough to leave an impression beyond a cheap laugh. Plus, he sets a perfect foundation for the Phantom Thieves to grow into something bigger. The second villain in P5X might feel like he was ripped from a scrapped draft of Ratatouille, but that’s a discussion for another day.

So next time someone dismisses the Subway Slammer as a joke villain, remember: a little absurdity doesn’t equal bad writing. Sometimes, the silliest characters turn out to be the most memorable—and the most timely. Kiuchi is a product of his era, a mirror held up to certain corners of modern masculinity, and a darn good tutorial boss. Give the man his flowers. The subway is his for the slammin’, after all.