Notes 1: Set after Daiichi's Triumphant Restorer ending and borrows bits from the anime. May include elements of other SMT games and/or feature multiple relationships later.

Italicised text are thoughts and memories; emphasis if on single words.

Chapter 1: Let's Not Start Over

They don't remember.

My friends have changed, grown, but they don't remember.

Daiichi has gotten his act together and will soon be heading to university. Io is more outspoken now, more clearly hinting that she wants to be more than friends. Yet, just as I know I can't grant her wish, I know their progress won't suffice to allay Polaris' judgment. I wonder how much time we have, how long we can afford to wait. The world hadn't seemed so vast when all that remained of it lay within the Dragon Stream's barrier.

Yamato could do it, probably. In his position, influencing people and changing the world isn't so far out of reach. And if anyone has a will strong enough to remember, it'd be Yamato. Still, even if he does remember, I wouldn't put it past that martyr to make the same choices again. That's his problem: He doesn't know how to be happy.

That thought, that gripping sense of urgency, haunts my days and my nights, brings me to the Diet Building each day. I can't just walk in — the elevator to JP's is hidden and off limits; no one is even supposed to know it's there, and the guards probably have orders to shoot trespassers on sight.

Still, if I just keep coming back… JP's may be headquartered in Osaka, but I know Yamato comes here often for government meetings. If my timing is right—

Well, it seems that Fate has finally favoured me today.

That unmistakable head of silver hair catches the afternoon sun as Yamato walks briskly out towards the front gate with Makoto close behind. She is speaking, likely reporting something he cares very little for as usual, as I hurry over.

"Mister Hotsuin," I call, trying not to sound overly familiar.

He doesn't even slow, but I catch his subtle twitch of annoyance — I'm not supposed to know he exists. "Sako, please see to this civilian."

Makoto dutifully turns to intercept, but I run after Yamato. She's great, she's important too, and she'd do anything for him, but I'm not here for her today — Yamato doesn't listen to her. He moves to brush me off before I can grab his hand, but that's familiar, expected. I catch his wrist midair, and the flash of surprise quickly turns into a cold stare. He opens his mouth, probably to snap a threat, but I beat him to words.

"One word: Polaris."

He aborts his attempt to shake his hand free, and I don't let go. Perhaps it's my imagination, mere wishful thinking; perhaps the satiny slide of his gloves on my skin feels too familiar — in his intrigued half-smile, I glimpse a spark of what could be recognition.

"Very well, you have my attention. Meet me here at eighteen hundred hours. We'll talk then. You'd best not waste my time." Turning to Makoto, he adds, "Sako, you know what to do."

She bows slightly. "Yes, Chief."

I can't help smiling at the déjà vu as he starts to pull his hand away. "By that you mean to detain me as soon as I enter JP's or track me down for an arrest if I don't show." I don't turn, catching his gaze. "Isn't that right, Miss Makoto?"

I hear her breath hitch, and Yamato smirks — the dangerous, knowing glint in violet eyes tells me he caught what I just let slip. "I see. What cheek."

Letting out a soft chuckle, I step closer. Slowly, deliberately, I let my eyes trail down his body; I remember it well — lithe and toned beneath the starched fine fabric of his uniform. "Once," I murmur so only he can hear, "that was one of your favourite things about me," as I run my fingertips lightly over the inside of his wrist — he likes the feeling, I know, but it's too intimate now, and it unsettles him though he hides it well. "I know what is to come, Yamato, and I won't run, either from you or that opportunity."

Yamato finally twists his hand out of my grasp and turns away, but not before I catch the spark of interest in his eyes. "We will converse this evening then...?" he trails off expectantly, demanding.

"Kuze Hibiki."

"Kuze." He nods, dismissive, and I watch as he resumes his brisk walk to the waiting limousine.

Makoto hurries after him, but although she eyes me warily, she still politely smiles and nods, and I return the silent greeting with a bit more warmth. I don't move till they turn the corner; only then do I give in to looking down at my hand.

I didn't realize how much I'd missed him already.

"Hibiki." I open my eyes — we're still lying face to face. "Tomorrow, we go to defeat Polaris, and I have no doubt as to your strength and conviction, yet it is still unclear to me what manner of world you hope to create exactly."

Yamato's pristine white gloves lie discarded between our down pillows, and the silk covers are luxuriously soft over our intertwined legs. His room, and his bed, is far bigger and more comfortable than the ones we were assigned when we joined, and I'm not looking forward to sneaking back later.

"I want to go back to the way things were. No." I take his hand as he frowns. "Ĺet me finish. I want to change the world by our own power," I explain, tracing his radial artery with the pad of my thumb. "Change has no meaning if it is forced upon us. We will only repeat this tragedy. You, of all people, must see how senseless that is."

Yamato closes his eyes and presses his free hand to his brow. "You think it's possible to salvage the rotten fruit this world has become," he sighs wearily. "Where do you find such optimism?"

"In you." I smile at his incredulous glance, lacing our fingers. "Together, I know it is. Help me change the world, Yamato. Let's realize your ideals by our own will, not Polaris'." I chuckle. "Are you surprised?" His expression is priceless. "I've never opposed them, not really. They're not mutually exclusive to everyone else's, you know?" Still holding his gaze, I press my lips to his knuckles. "Selflessness is a form of merit too. Hasn't your family practiced it for generations?"

It takes a moment, but then he's bursting into laughter. "That's my Hibiki." He shakes his head fondly as he nestles closer. "You've gotten so manipulative."

I grin — only Yamato would consider that a compliment. "It's all thanks to your grounding."

Smirking, he tilts his head up for a kiss.

Notes 2:I'd been planning to write this fic for some time now, but I've only just gotten around to it, so here's my first work for Devil Survivor 2.

It's also un-beta-ed, so do let me know what you think of it so far!