A/N: Say hello to a new fic of mine which will probably not be updated in the next two months. But hey, it's here, and that's what matters. Essentially, this is one big revamp of my first fic on this site, The Alternity Paradox, but done with the intention of keeping it a lot more streamlined and well, a lot more liberal with the source material. Special thanks to Kazumi1994 for helping me through the creative process of even coming up with this story!

Now. Be warned: This will not be your run-of-the mill Persona 3 novelization. It's gonna be chock full of events and character moments that'll be extremely divergent from the source material; though I'll try to keep the characters as in-character as possible, seeing as how my version of the P3 Protagonist is gonna be written...expect things to turn out far more differently than you think.

I Saw a Dead Man Win a Fight

Obscene lights and sounds and smells fill the world, and at once I can no longer tell the difference between the reality I see when my eyes are open, and the innumerable horrors I see when they are closed. The scars running down from my chest to my guts bleed, the stitches coming undone. I hear a low, groaning noise that sounds like a massive steel pylon being wrenched into and around itself, and the blood's beginning to pour, it roars and cries and everything around it suffers and chokes on its own blood and dies.

When the noises end, when the chaos fades, the world comes back to me bit by bit, in intervals. In the form of snapping fingers, or questions. Beyond those, my mind drifts back to scalpels, scissors, knives, and needles. Stitches and plugs, sharp objects puncturing my nerves and forearms. In the dreams I would recall the times when they thought I was under the influence of sedatives—I would remember feeling them working on my lungs despite the drugs, I'd remember them poking around in my brain, at the clusters of nerves and cells and arteries that I need to stay alive—

In the visions I'd see my parents looking at me with such distant eyes, there is no light or warmth in the way they clasp my hand, there is no fear when they have me strapped to a steel table, there is no guilt when they have knives run down my sternum and peel apart the skin of my intestines. In all this they keep their eyes on me, never turning away, never looking back—did they feel like they owed it to me to never turn away from what they were doing, or did they just want to make sure they weren't cutting the wrong organs out—

Are you awake?

Psychosomatic, they'd say time and again, It's all psychosomatic, there's a deep connection between the body and the mind, between the reality we feel and the reality we think we know—it's a visceral, gut-wrenching, bloody feeling that claws and eats at every single one of us and it's everyone and everything all at the same time.

I always see it in my dreams, some ever-changing mass of minds and music that won't ever stop singing to itself, floating and drifting in some ethereal void with a million voices and a million eyes, and a million eyes within those eyes. I feel its eyes eating away at the things I keep inside where no one else can see—

No one else can see, no one else can see. No one else should see, please don't make me see Mommy I don't want to see—

Green lights, swarming the world. A yellow moon, blood bleeding out the cracks of the planet—coffins standing tall and proud, where people should be—these are not dreams but certainties of a time I do not want to bear witness to—

Can you hear me? Please, tell me your name.

My name. My name? What could my name possibly be? Who could ask such a thing of me? Did they ever even give me a name, did they even care enough—?

Someone is looking at me; her eyes are red. Her hair is long and flowing, also blistering scarlet color, tied in spiraled pigtails. She is stern but warm, a child my age. I feel if I do not grab at her now, I'll fade back into a world filled with things I do not wish to see. I see her mouth move, and the words come after she stops.

My name is Mitsuru Kirijo, she says. And then she says once more, Please, tell me your name.

As I reach out to her I feel my mind slip. Before I fade away I see horror plain in her eyes, and she grabs my shoulders and tries to get me to hold on—

I see my intestines hanging from hooks, my body propped up on some steel apparatus stained with the blood of other children just like me—a million eyes, a wailing chaos that will never ever stop expanding beyond itself, it has many names but at the same time has none and every single time I see it I feel its eyes eating away at the things I keep inside where no one else can see—

Please don't let me see it I don't want to see it please don't let me see it I don't want to see it why do you want me to see it why must I see it—why must I see

Hands on my shoulders bring me back from the brink, and words are coming at me from every which way—she's asking me for my name, my name, my name is, my name is—my name my name my name, Father's name what was Father's name, he said it to me once and never again after—he said my name was his, but with a few characters changed around, therefore my name must be, it must be—

"Makoto." My teeth chatter, my lips are chapped, my breath is rotten, and my tongue is dry. But I'm able to speak. "M-Makoto, Makoto Y-Yuuki."

I see the world for what it is. Voices are clamoring, clawing at the back of my head—I am awake.

All of a sudden, I realize where I am. The sensation of tubes in my arms and a sheet over my body is a familiar one. In a hospital bed, strapped in to prevent myself from throwing my body off the sheets—the clinical scent of the room causes my lungs to boil over, and the scars running across my chest begin to sting again—

But I focus on the red-eyed girl in front of me, and the voices don't hurt me as much as they should. She doesn't look upon me with pity or fear. She just looks as if she wants to apologize for something.

"You're in Tatsumi Memorial. You have been asleep for four months."

I hate it all. I hate the tubes in my arms I hate the smell I hate the green walls—"Why am I here? Wh-what happened to me…?"

"You were found in Gekkoukan High. You and a girl…Runako Gekkou."

Runako."She's alive…?"

"She's alive." Kirijo nods, eyes still fixed on me, unblinking. "But she's still asleep."

"C-can I see her…?"

"Can you move your legs?"

I try with all my might. Not even an inch. I don't even feel them.

"I'm sorry. You're not ready yet." She grabs my hand, "I'll answer any questions you have, to the best of my ability. But right now, you need to rest."

"Where are they…?" I ask her, practically vomiting the words, "My parents. A-are they…?"

"I told you, I'll explain everything in due time, but right now you—"

"Tell me they're dead," I look her right in the eyes. "Tell me. Please."

Takes her a few seconds. She nods slowly. She isn't lying.

"How did they die?" I ask, and she's restraining the profound sense of revulsion she feels from me asking that, so I demand this time: "Tell me how they died."

"I can't do that—"

"They did so many things to me—" I want to scream, I want to scream so loud the whole world can hear me, but my voice is so weak— "I-I…please…tell me, please."

She closes her eyes, gently lifting my hand off of hers. "Please rest. I can't imagine what you have been through. But what may come in the next few days…you will know everything you want to know. But for now, let everything sink in: you are alive. You've survived beyond things many would never even believe could happen. If that is of any comfort, remind yourself of that again and again. You are alive. Let that stay with you. That'll give you the strength to carry everything they've done, and break free from it."

She knows what they've done. "The things they did to us…why?"

She grabs my hands and sounds like she's in agony as she says, "We don't know. We didn't know about anything that occurred in that facility until it was too late. We're combing through each and every one of your files to find out why they…why this happened to you. We'll find out in due time. But in the meantime…please. Rest. It's what you need right now, more than anything else. We will take you to see her when you're ready."

At that I just nod, because what else am I to do?

Before she leaves, she gives me an earnest, sad look in her eyes. One that promises me the whole world and maybe some sense of closure. But the minute she walks out the room my eyes start to burn, my lungs crumple into themselves, and my stitches come apart at the seams again—

I clutch my head and whimper and whisper and seethe, telling myself My name is Makoto Yuuki over and over again, because if nothing else, if I end up dying feeling this kind of pain and helplessness, the one thing I would at least want to remember before I pass on is my own name.

My name is Makoto Yuuki. My name is Makoto Yuuki. I am here. I am alive. Let me stay that way forever, if only out of spite.

A few days pass, with moments of true peace and quiet few and far between. Everything on me aches day in and day out, and so I down painkillers every few hours—somehow the headaches persist even through the drugs. When the pain gets too much I just force myself to sleep and hope I stay asleep.

I see my parents every so often. When they're not vivisecting me in my dreams, I see flashes of them in the corners of my room, or at the windows, or at the door. When I face them they disappear, but I feel their eyes on me every second of every minute of every day. Much of the time, I end up fading away and I see the million-eyed creature screaming and singing from beyond the veil.

But things only get worse when evening comes.

When midnight comes and I look out the window to my left, I see that the skies are a corrupted emerald green. The moon is the same shade of yellow as a rotted tooth, and the smell of blood fills my nostrils. The lights in the city are dead and black, as black as the coffins dotting the city streets—this is not a delusion. This is not a dream. This is all too real to be a dream, too real to be a construction of my mind or my memories.

When Mitsuru Kirijo visits me on the third day of my stay, I manage to speak with her. I don't let her know about anything I've seen in my dreams. She can't know. No one can know. She asks how I'm doing and a lot of the conversation feels as though she's doing all this out of guilt.

So I take the time to ask her, "How did you and your people find us? Me and Runako?"

"My grandfather...Koetsu Kirijo," she responds. "He was the man who led the experiments on you and everyone else in that facility. Something had gone wrong, and by the time my father's people arrived on the scene, we found you and Gekkou in the rubble."

My eyes widen at the sound of that, "You and your father knew about what they were doing to us?"

She faces me clearly, "My father knew experiments were being conducted at that facility. My father didn't know it involved experimentation upon children. I didn't know of any of this; my father had tried to keep it secret from me, to protect me. But I forced my way in, you could say."

...she isn't lying. How can I tell that she isn't lying?

"You don't have to believe me if you don't want to."

"I believe you," I tell her. "I don't know how...but I believe you." Then blurs of faces pass me by. "There were...more of us, besides myself and Runako," I grab my head. "I can't remember any of their names, but I know they were there..."

She closes her eyes, leaning against my hospital bed, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything my grandfather did...even I don't know the reasoning behind what he had tried to do. They're trying to keep certain details from me. They tell me I'll learn over time. But I doubt they'd be so keen on letting me know, even then."

"So you still don't know why they...?"

She purses her lips, looking away from me now. "No."

I take in a deep breath. "Where's Runako now? Is she awake?"

"Runako Gekkou...is currently in a comatose state. She's a floor above you. My father hired the best doctors and nurses to keep her alive. Considering the state we found her in...it's a miracle that she's still holding on to life."

"That counts as a miracle to you?"

She nods, "Yes. We must take what we can get."

I grip the hem of my bed sheets. Perhaps I can risk looking insane in front of her. "Every night, the sky turns green. The moon turns yellow. I smell blood. People on the streets become coffins. Am I seeing things or is it all real?"

She faces me and doesn't turn away again. "It began the night we found you. From what I've gathered, it...it has something to do with the experiments they performed on you."

I shudder at being reminded of everything they did to us, so I plead, "Please. Let me see Runako soon. I-I just want to see her."

"You need to rest, still. You can't walk yet."

"She's my friend. Please."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll ask my father and the nurses and the doctors to let you see her as soon as possible...but that's about all I can do."

"She's the only one I have left."

She looks at me sadly. "I know."

One more week goes by, and I still keep demanding. Runako, Runako, let me see Runako. I'm a broken record at this point, but I need to be. Nurses and doctors tell me repeatedly I must rest, but I insist and demand and rage at them, demanding to see Runako—then one day, for some reason, they decide to give me the go-ahead.

A tall man with an eyepatch, wearing a suit, enters my room; accompanied by a brown-haired man wearing spectacles. Mitsuru Kirijo follows them both.

The bespectacled man says, lending his hand out to shake mine, "Hello. My name is Shuji Ikutsuki. You're…Makoto Yuuki, correct?"

I nod, as he brings his hand back to his side.

"Do you wish to know the nature of what had been done to you?" the man with the eyepatch asks, and I just keep my eyes trained on him.

He's serious. He'll tell me everything. But first things come first. "Let me see Runako."

He closes his eyes, "Very well."

I still can't walk, so they cart me to Runako in a wheelchair. When we enter her room, I see her in a hospital bed. Sleeping. Quiet, unmoved. Tubes and plugs of all kinds in her arms, a plastic mask cupping her nose and mouth. Her face is all bandaged up, concealing her auburn locks and scarlet eyes. The fact that the heart monitor next to her is still beeping is the only thing indicating she's still alive.

"She's still asleep…"

"When we recovered her," Ikutsuki starts, "we found large pieces of shrapnel lodged in her brain. We've done everything we could to ensure her survival, but it's unlikely she'll ever wake up."

"Her body…," I mutter, the horror rising up in my chest as I turn, "while we were there, I heard her scream every single night—they put her on the table next to me."

Ikutsuki continues, "They vivisected her and replaced several of her internal organs. Though they were careful enough not to kill her, they still caused irreparable amounts of damage to her nervous system, and she will likely be living with chronic bodily pains for the rest of her life. She is alive, for what that much is worth. As for you, the damage done to your body was similarly extensive. But, several of the nerve clusters in your brain that enable you to feel pain have been severed, so you would have a much easier time of enduring the pain than she."

"Ikutsuki-san...," Mitsuru cringes at him. "Please."

His expression didn't change a bit, not once as he said all that. "He has to know. If he decides to join us, he has to know."

I nearly break down then and there, when I beg him, "Why did our parents let this happen to us…? They said they loved us, why did they…?" And then I snarl at him, "Who are you people…?"

The man with the eyepatch turns to Ikutsuki. The latter nods, placing a hand on his shoulder. Eyepatch closes his eyes, before turning back to me.

He explains, "My name is Takeharu Kirijo. I am the head of the Kirijo Group."

Kirijo? "Your daughter is…?"

"My daughter has been paying you visits for the past week. She demanded to come with me, when I decided to meet with you personally. Now, listen carefully," he leans in closer to me, kneeling down and putting his hands on my shoulders. "You are here as a result of the machinations of my father, Koetsu Kirijo. Your parents worked under him and kept what they did to you and to your friend a secret from me, the company, and the rest of the world. Everything that they did to you, they did because they wanted to achieve something. They were carried by a madness greater than even words can describe."

I struggle to find words for a moment. "What do you want from me?"

"I am here to give you a choice. You could either be sent to your relatives, and live the rest of your life in some form of peace. Or you can help us put a stop to what my father has done to this world."

I tighten my grip around the handles of the wheelchair. "Tell me everything."

My hospital room.

The ensuing setup had taken fifteen minutes or so. Ikutsuki's laptop wouldn't read the projector for a while, despite the cords connecting perfectly. All the while Takeharu Kirijo looked like he didn't want to be where he was, didn't want to even see me in any conceivable fashion. But they kept at it and once he had gotten the projector to shine directly on the white wall across from me, he opened a folder that said OP.

Mitsuru stayed by my side. Next to my bed. Grasping my hand, if only to comfort me and herself with the knowledge of what's to come.

"Mitsuru," Takeharu Kirijo begins, "I had planned to keep much of this secret from you, even well into your adult years. But circumstances have changed. The both of you will know the truth, before anything else. It was called Operation: Paradox. The plan, at first, was to use it to help mankind…through the creation of a time manipulation device."

Mitsuru says nothing, but grips my hand tighter. I'm too tired to particularly care.

"Imagine if you could control the flow of time... eliminate unwanted events before they occur. With such a device, you could shape the future to your liking. Go back in time, cure any unwanted ills. Of course, it was dangerous. But the possibilities were endless. Potentially beneficial. There was so much that my father believed could have been done. We adults are to blame. If I could've atoned for it with my life, I would have done so...but now, I have no choice but to rely on you. Under my father's direction, the research began to stray from its original goal. In his later years, my father seemed to have only nihilism in his heart. Now that I think about it, his madness may have resulted from his struggle to break free from that. It's only natural that you want to know the truth...and it's my duty to tell you.

"Luckily, I was able to recover footage of the incident that led us to find you," Ikutsuki says, "It was recorded by a scientist who was at the scene. From here, we will discuss everything we know to you. Would you like to see?"

It takes me a moment. Only a moment. "Show me."

Ikutsuki opens a video from the folder titled a2034, and it plays from the projector to the wall.

"I pray that this recording reaches safe hands..."

There was a crack on the screen, as though something had broken the camera prior to recording. We heard screams and there were dark lashes of matter flying all over the place. Causing gashes in the steel. Steel panels flew by as more people screamed, dark shades that resembled bodies flying in the air and crashing into the walls. There was a shape visible on-screen. Dark and glitchy, but a shape nonetheless.

"My employer has become obsessed with a loathsome idea. This experiment should have never even been conceived...I'm afraid what I've done will result in an unprecedented disaster. But if I hadn't, the entire world may have paid the price. Please, listen carefully... the Shadows that were amassed here have been dispersed as a result of the explosion. To end this nightmare, you must eliminate all of them! I am to blame for this. I knew the risks, but I was blinded by the promise of success. And so, I didn't raise any objections...it is all my fault..."

The last few seconds are the only moments I see his face clearly; almond eyes, stubble along his chin. He looks like he wants to die. And judging by how the film cuts out after a roaring noise, we can assume he did.

"His name was Eiichiro Takeba. He was the head researcher at the time, and a very talented man. But, we are the ones who are responsible. We pushed him to continue the research. The Kirijo Group is to blame for his death."

Mitsuru's let go of my hand. The look in her eyes is something I can't bear to see. She can't stand how her father puts all the blame upon himself.

"The time-manipulation device would have been accessed through the use of creatures called Shadows," says Ikutsuki.

"Shadows...?"

He simply clicked upon another video.

Static footage turned black as we heard a distinct voice say Hrrrpuzzz, then the camera flashed back to normal and we heard a roar. There was a great red shape of a thing that could not be properly described because the video was all fuzzy and it was roaring, but I saw shapes talking to it, trying to demand to know what it is.

And then finally we heard a real coherent sentence, "Turn off, turn off the camera —!"

Ikutsuki rewound the footage to the point where we could see the great red shape of a thing —and though we couldn't see it clearly, its form was ostensibly serpentine, and it had an innumerable number of wings. Merely looking at a photo of the creature drowned my brain cavity in agony.

"It identified itself...as a Shadow," Ikutsuki said. "A creature borne from a realm called the Sea of Souls. Somehow, someway, we'd accessed it. We believed that use creatures such as this would have greatly benefitted us in future generations...but not even I knew the depths of madness Koetsu had been willing to stoop to. Right under my nose, he'd been kidnapping children in the hopes of breaching our realm and theirs."

"Why would experimenting on us help them in any way?"

"The Sea of Souls is a realm accessed largely through the human mind, the human consciousness," said Takeharu Kirijo. "Children were what my father determined were perfect test subjects in their attempts to access that realm; specifically children on the streets, and children the scientists were willing to...give up, for the sake of further research. Everything they had done to you, was done in an attempt to access the Sea of Souls."

"That doesn't answer anything. How would torturing us help them access this place?"

"Shadows are creatures born of the human consciousness," says Ikutsuki. "You're very lucky we managed to recover as many files as we have. Shadows are the lower parts of the psyche everyone has...suppressed human thoughts given physical form. Unbound by time, space, or reality. When people are unable to face their darker selves, they break loose, free from all control. Access to the Sea of Souls would essentially grant humanity access to the great human unconsciousness. Perhaps it was this knowledge that changed Koetsu Kirijo's priorities..."

Takeharu Kirijo cuts in, "My father likely managed to access the Sea, in some fashion. But his plans were halted by Eiichiro Takeba's intervention, culminating in the destruction of the facility...leading to us finding you and Runako Gekkou alone in the rubble, and an Hour in every day wherein the skies turn green."

I grit my teeth then, some nagging feeling at the back of my head telling me things that were being unspoken. "What do you want with me and Runako?"

"...sometimes, humans with special awareness can tame their Shadows. What you're about to see next occurred two weeks after you both were recovered from the wreckage of Gekkoukan."

And Ikutsuki did so with Entry_Log#2.

Mitsuru is on-screen, guards in riot gear surrounding her. The floor was lined with blue-and-white checkered patterns. Adorning the edges of this platform were four Ionic columns which stood gallantly, basking in a white glow let in through a massive skylight of sorts. On the second platform was a massive staircase with forty-four steps which led to a gargantuan, circular structure—one that vaguely looked like a clock with its innards exposed. All the gears and the cogs and the hands making themselves known to us. This structure was kept standing upright thanks to both the staircase and a series of emerald pillars latched beneath it and onto its sides.

Camera is panning left and right, shaky and noisy; I turn to the Mitsuru standing next to me, and her expression remains neutral. She knows what she's about to witness.

A guard muttered, "It's only the second time anyone has been here without special equipment."

The person holding the camera, ostensibly Ikutsuki (judging from the voice) stated, "Normal weaponry is useless against Shadows. Any equipment we brought would be for your peace of mind. Everyone here has had their "potential" developed in our labs. That should suffice to protect us. And even if you're devoured, that in itself would be valuable data for us."

Aforementioned guard groaned, "Ugh... Is anyone left in the Ergo Division who isn't a psycho? In any case, Sir...are you all right with this? I mean...bringing your daughter..."

Camera pans. Mitsuru is standing next to her father, who still looks none too pleased with this arrangement.

"I don't mind at all. I myself requested to come along."

Takeharu grunts, "...You heard her."

"...I see. I'm sorry to have spoken out of turn, Sir."

There is another guard in view. He is standing still. Completely still. As if he'd been stopped in time.

"Hey, what's wrong...?"

The guard's neck then wrenches into an impossible angle and I see his pale face as he screams, his mouth agape and eyes bleeding out black; the scream is an inconsolable wailing noise of agony and laughter and everything bends and snaps and shatters—

"Wh-what the..!?"

"Looks like it's back to the drawing board for the artificial development of 'potential...!'" Ikutsuki laughs, half out of nervousness, half out of...joy?

"Sir, Miss, step aside!" The guard from earlier raises his rifle and pushes Mitsuru back into her father, other guards try flanking the creature that had once been a man and is now made of teeth and things that tear and rip and shred. When I see it happen, I see something else. Something dark, large, and all-consuming. Spreading to the farthest reaches of the known universe, eating stars and galaxies and everything that lives. I see a black void, which meets my gaze with a million eyes.

It is the creature I see in my dreams. Singing and screaming and singing—

"That's... a Shadow...," is all Mitsuru can mutter, as the cameraman hustles behind them both.

The guards fire at the creature, the rattling noises of their guns shattering the air, but their bodies explode in gore and organs in a matter of seconds, and just like that Mitsuru and her father are completely open—

The first guard shouts "NO!"

"Father!"

And out from Mitsuru's head comes a sword-and-dagger wielding creature. It is twenty feet tall, maybe even thirty—adorned in raiments fit for a queen. I notice her gleaming steel breastplate and corset first; then the stitches of the black stockings covering her disproportionately long legs; then the knight's helm fitted with a golden crown; finally, the two lengthy blades in her hands. It is an illustrious thing, bold and brash and violent and graceful and it's everything and nothing all at once. Light dances all around it as it lifts its blades and charges, specks of blue flickering in the air as it makes its motions—

"Oh... did you see that!? Such power! It's a Persona! I was right! Persona-users do exist!"

Mitsuru's on-screen self collapses before everything cuts to black.

I turn to her, and she refuses to face me. Not after what I'd just seen her do.

The screen rewinds and pauses then; right to the point where we have clear view of whatever creature had emerged out of Mitsuru's skull.

"That...is a Persona," says the elder Kirijo. "The reason you and Runako Gekkou were experimented upon was because it was determined you both naturally had the potential to summon Personas. That is why your parents..."

"That's why they tortured us!?" I scream, nearly getting up out of my bed. "Everything they did, it was so they could access that place...!? They used us to try and what, manipulate time...!?"

Ikutsuki just cuts in, "We sought to harness the power of Personas and Shadows. Never before had I thought it possible to actually bore a hole into the other side through here...but we had done it. We'd brought in a Shadow from the other side. Eventually, we tried something more extreme. Koetsu wanted us to breach further in."

His fingers come down hard upon one more key as a picture opens up.

A simple white chair. Above that white chair were dozens of wires and cords and pipes and tech coming down from the ceiling, like mechanical intestines and organs hanging from somewhere. Nonsensically arranged, the mechanical organs seemed as though they were moving and shambling despite being part of a still image. In the middle of it all, directly seated on the white chair, was a simple silver helmet attached to a white cord; it too, was long enough to reach the ceiling.

"What is that?" I ask.

"They called it Charon, apparently," says Ikutsuki. "It was...the gateway."

"Gateway...?" asks Mitsuru.

He continues, "To try and physically traverse over to the Sea of Souls...we realized it would have been too great a cost. Three people had died already, thanks to our previous attempt at creating a breach. The Sea of Souls is a mental landscape. It was the safest option to psychically send someone there. Through Charon...a passageway of sorts. Koetsu...wanted to test out Charon for himself. He was eager, and we all knew it was a bad idea, but he demanded. Practically forced his way in the lab the moment he found out we'd completed the machine. Put the helmet on and after a few seconds...," he shakes his head. "After that, he remained indoors for the next month. The day he returned, he had a lot of us leave. I suppose that's when the experiments began."

Takeharu clears his throat. "We can only hypothesize at this point, but it's likely they performed those experiments on you to...ready your bodies when the day came to breach the Sea. Either that, or they sought to draw out the connection between yourselves and the Sea by inducing trauma."

His stare is firm, but there's something in his eyes he's trying quite hard to keep together.

Mitsuru grips my hand even tighter. She's visibly uncomfortable.

"We no longer have time. Something went wrong, Makoto Yuuki. The Shadows are invading our world through the Hidden Hour you see every night at midnight...and they're stronger than my father could have ever predicted."

I scoff at him, "So you want me to fix your father's mess...?"

"I want you to fight and help us protect this world. But it is still your choice. I cannot force you to fight for us, especially not after everything that's happened to you. But we are running out of options."

His eyes are so...desperate. "You want me to protect your daughter."

Takeharu closes his eyes. Ikutsuki remains silent. Mitsuru turns to me, silently pleading with me not to press the matter further.

"My daughter has dedicated herself to the task of ridding the world of the Dark Hour. She wants to redeem our family for the sins of my father. She will not be met with resistance, and she is fully determined to see this path to the bitter end, even at the cost of her own life. I cannot let her go down this path alone. Not with everything I've seen. Not with everything at risk. I did not want you or your friend to have any part of this. Not initially."

"My friend, what do you—?" Oh no. Runako.

"If you won't accept, then I will have to wait for Runako Gekkou to awaken and hope she accepts this path."

Mitsuru can't even look at me right now. She knew this is what he'd planned to offer to me all along.

"You and your company just want to use us again?" I seethe at him.

"It's your choice. Both you and Runako Gekkou have the choice to join us. If neither of you choose to ally yourselves with the Kirijo Group, you'll both be sent off to your relatives and be recompensed immensely for all the damages you've suffered under my father's abuses of power. Again, you have a choice."

Of course the first thought that comes to my head is No. But the second thought that comes to my head is of Runako's little hand in mine, as she lays motionless in her hospital bed. The third, is of my parents watching coldly as scientists dissect my spine and drain out my guts. The fourth is of the million-eyed monstrosity they tortured me for, and how its hellspawn will be free to run rampant while I still live.

Mitsuru clasps my hands as she practically begs, "You don't...have to do this."

She's right. She's absolutely right. "I want to."

That night, when I dream, a blue butterfly passes by me; a wonderful blue glow that rips away at the gore filling the cavities of my brain.

Time never waits. It delivers all equally to the same end. You, who wish to safeguard the future, however limited it may be…go forth without falter, with your heart as your guide…

I find myself in yet another black, empty void of a place. I feel the ground beneath me, my knees having collapsed to the floor from the sheer freezing temperatures. The floor is marble. Marble, and like the air, cold as ice. A door comes barreling towards me and before I know it a bright white light shone through the world.

Surrounding me are six doors, three on my right side, and three on my left. Two of the doors are, for some reason, blanketed by a white sheet, which, due to the reflection of the blue around the room, appear to be blue as well.

I suddenly realize that I am sitting in a seat that was shaped like a lyre. I looked around, and I saw that I wasn't in a room at all; I was in a massive elevator, with a blue velvet carpet spread all across the floor. I look up to see a massive yellow-and-blue clock tower over me, its hands moving rather quickly before slowing down to match the movements of a regular clock, pausing upon reaching the time 12:00.

I look across from me and spot a hunchbacked, white-haired, decrepit, tuxedo-wearing old man. His eyes were wide, eerie, and bloodshot; his nose was about as long as my forearm. And next to him is a young lady, who appears to be my age; she is adorned in blue and has platinum-blonde hair, but her eyes are the most brilliant shade of golden I've ever seen, and when I take in all her features I'm beyond surprised.

"Welcome to the Velvet Room, my dear young man. My name is Igor. I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

But last night, I have dreamed a dreary dream
Beyond the Isle of Skye,
I saw a dead man win a fight,
And I think that man was I.

— Excerpt from The Battle of Otterburn