A/N: So… yeah. Word of warning: plot-induced unpleasantries near the end. I swear it isn't gratuitous – and I'm just as disturbed as you are or will be. Was a bit morbid to write~
Also, I only now discovered that has an in-browser WYSIWYG editor~ hurr~ It's as if I haven't had this account for over a decade now.
Chapter Two – City of Rumors
There was very little to compare the blonde bartender's strength against. Which is a very, very odd thing for Souji to think, given what he's fought against. The sheer brute strength on display could've matched Chie at her finest, Power Charged, boosted with Tarukaja and delivering a God Hand technique so ridiculously overpowered, the impact of it would send tremors up his legs. Except that it took Chie precious seconds to prepare such a devastating technique (an echo of it still shocked Inaba's law enforcement's new recruits), whereas here…
"IIIIIZZZZAAAAYYYYYAAAA!" roared the man as he took to quick steps forward – and launched the vending machine, a blur of commercial colors rocketing past Souji's head – again. There wasn't room to stand back, not with Naoto behind him – wait. No, she wasn't.
She was standing in front of the man, a flustered and overwhelmed look on her face and – shit, she was waving her badge!
"S-stand down!" she barked. "Stand down or I'll have you arrested!"
Souji ran up next to her and got into a ready stance. Her own close-range combat capabilities notwithstanding, she'd need backup. …or would have if the man didn't suddenly look as if he was deflating.
"Tch. Dammit," said the man, visibly depressed. "Arrested again, huh? Bastard planned this."
"Shizuo-kun," murmured his dreadlocked companion. "You alright?"
"Dammit," spat the herculean blonde. "Fucking Izaya. With the gangs, the robberies, and that suicide… STAY OUT OF MY CITY!" he roared almost desperately. Souji was reminded of a lion, roaring at a pack of hyenas to stay off his turf.
"…wait. Heiwajima Shizuo?" he asked suddenly.
"Yeah? What's it to you?" said the other man, glowering.
"I knew your brother," said Souji simply. "You said something about a suicide? Come back in and we'll talk."
"Yeah? And if I don't?"
Naoto could carry a dangerous expression when she needed to. The metallic clink of her handcuffs accentuated it.
Dreadlocks sighed. "Look, just don't arrest him, alright? None of the local shops'll press charges anyhow. Shizuo-kun – I'll call in Vorona. You play nice."
"…damn. Alright, Tom."
"And exactly why wouldn't they press charges?" asked Naoto.
"Because he blows his paycheck paying them back," said Tom Tanaka, waving them off calmly.
/
"There is simply far too much we still don't understand," muttered Naoto. She heaved a disgruntled sigh as she kicked off her shoes at the entryway, the door clicking shut behind her as Souji followed her in. They were laden with grocery, and the small apartment was still strewn with boxes – they had planned to take the weekend off to get things in order.
"More should be revealed in time," said Souji. "Right now, we need our rest. It's been a long day."
Naoto nodded, tossing her hat onto the dining room table. "You want the bath first?"
"You go ahead. I need to send off an appointment confirmation email to my thesis advisor," Souji responded, rummaging into a box labeled "Electronics."
"Oh, shoot. I'm sorry, I forgot-"
"It's just an update," he interrupted, smiling. "If I thought I needed more time to prepare for it, I would've brought it up with you."
She nodded and yawned as she entered the bathroom. It was rudimentarily stocked already – a few towels and basic supplies. There was a small makeup set, gifted from Rise, but Naoto was more comfortable being low-maintenance, and rarely used it except for when she thought that her gender could be leveraged favorably. Souji's own supplies, needless to say, constituted a bar of soap, shampoo and shaving cream – she still felt a twinge of envy for his gender. He didn't even color his hair! The silvery strands were all natural – a psychosomatic feedback from a childhood accident that he barely remembers.
She carefully stripped out of her clothes, hanging her blouse and jacket and tossing the rest into the laundry basket as hot water poured into the bath. A hot bath was one of the few feminine luxuries she'd made an exception for as a young woman, and fully embraced now. They even paid a little extra for this place specifically for the size of it. In fact, said a mischievous thought, it was probably big enough…
"Sou-chan…" she called out demurely. "I hope that email doesn't take too long. The water's very nice…"
She could hear a chuckle from the other room. "It's almost midnight. I thought you were tired?"
"Mm… not tired enough," she said, smiling to herself. "Why don't you come in here and help?"
"I just might," he said. "I… er…" A sudden, alarming thump. Naoto's eyes snapped wide as the lights of the apartment went out.
"Souji? Souji!" she yelled. She quickly leapt out of the bathtub and slammed open the door, running the short distance of the hall to the living room, cursing as she stubbed a toe against a heavy box of books. "What happened? Why-"
She gasped. He had collapsed against the wall, clutching his head. An eerie, blood-red moonlight dashed a vivid contrast as he breathed heavily, eyes unfocused. He suddenly screamed – an act of pain so fierce, it was as if it transmitted itself to her, causing her to clutch at her own forehead, driving her down to her knees.
And something she hasn't heard for ten long years spoke – a high, masculine voice in her own head; a deep, authoritative echo seemingly above him.
Thou art I…
/
It writhed.
From the base, dead earth it squirmed to a sick parody of life, a shapeless, thoughtless morass of regrets, betrayals, burdens, grievances, longings, ignorance. From the harrowing, red moonlight it gleamed with anger, rejection, lust, defiance, thirst, hate.
Hunger. It was Hunger. It was hungry. Subsidence, food, prey, fuel. It was empty, demanding fulfillment. Black, thick tendrils reached out, seeking for food. It could feel them out there. Fuel. Fuel in countless quantities. But small, unappetizing. There was a deposit of it above him, glimmering brilliantly in its faux-sight, still trembling 'neath the terrible blood moon. It reached for it, dense, deliberate tendrils slamming into concrete-
"Found you, you ugly bastard!" snapped a voice.
Fire.
/
A blast of thunder ripped across their ears. Naoto was the first to recover, grabbing for a box innocuously labeled "Supplies (W)" and hefting out a heavy six-chambered revolver. "Stay here," she snapped woozily at Souji. "You're in no condition to fight."
"Wait-" he tried to get his breathe under his control. "Neither are you. Clothes."
"If this has to do with the TV world, then there's no need for modest-"
"Voices," coughed Souji, pulling himself up. "Definitely heard a-"
"You persistent bastard!" yelled somebody on the street.
"…dammit," cursed Naoto. She tossed the gun at him. "I'll grab a dress, you scope out the situation!"
He half-stumbled onto the balcony, eyes widening at the scene before him. A goateed man was holding his own against what could only be described as a massive amoeba with a mask – other than the yelling and thunder of multiton tendrils of darkness slamming into concrete, the city was eerily silent and devoid of all but the light a full, crimson moon. At least the man was armed, thought Souji with a sigh of relief – common weapons weren't fully effective against Shadows, but it bought him time… and why was he holding it to his own head?
"Wait, stop-" yelled Souji, but his breathe was caught as the loud click of a trigger echoed out… and a dazzling explosion nearly knocked him back into the apartment.
"Trismegistus!" screamed Goatee, and a blazing inferno swept up the Shadow.
/
Since helping to save the world twice over, life has worked out alright for Iori Junpei. It didn't hurt that he had a close-knit, battle-forged friendship with the head of the wealthy Kirijo Group either – a minor case of nepotism saw him hired as a public relations agent where his primary duty was to curry favors and arrange sponsorships with the national baseball league. It was a fun job, mostly, and he did it well, responsibly doing his part to help support the increasing influences and responsibilities of the corporate conglomerate. Though the days of SEES had long since passed, and even some of his college friends were starting to drift away, there were still some bonds that remained unbroken.
One, in particular, was so integral to his existence it could be said more realistically that it was a bond to himself – not narcissism, but a spiritual alchemy with little precedent. It was, in a way, a literal guardian angel and voice of conscience – the heartful remnants of a melancholic yet fierce, red-headed girl that saw it fit to bestow the last of her existence to a young, troubled man.
Left. Watch the large tentacle, whispered a quiet voice in his head, and left he dodged, barely avoiding a short and terminal fate as a puddle of gore beneath a heavy, black weight the size of a bus. Fire had done little to ward off the great beast – distracted it, yes, from whatever it was attempting to claim. "Dammit," spat Junpei angrily. "If Akihiko was here, or Yukari as backup… whoa! Somebody's up there!"
The sharp crack of gunfire – once, twice, thrice – and the great shadow shuddered, divots torn into its side, splashing from the bullet's wake. It didn't stop.
"Don't bother with weapons!" yelled Junpei at the gray-haired man on the upper floors. "I've got this!"
"It's too big for you to handle alone!" snapped the other man.
"Stand back! Way back!" yelled another, higher-pitched voice. A vaguely familiar-looking blue-haired woman ran up to the balcony, something clenched in her fist.
Back away. Junpei gulped, and leapt.
/
Souji blinked.
"When did you get grenades?" he asked hoarsely.
"D-don't ask," she said, wiping the soot off his face. "Old case. Is it still-"
Souji jerked, pushing her back as a massive, oozing tendril reached up to them. Her revolver barked three times, driving it back.
"It's not a pushover Hablerie," he said, a grim smile on her face. "More direct measures? The man down there has a Persona, you saw?"
"No, I was getting dressed – do you think…?"
Souji wordlessly marched back in, grabbing a golf bag and ripping off a cloth covering. The hilt of a katana was exposed.
"Souji!" she snapped. "Don't do anything reckless!"
"It's a little late for that," he said. He walked purposefully up to the balcony, a blade gleaming over his back.
"Oh, gods above. We're five stories up! Don't you dare- SOUJI!" she screamed angrily.
He jumped.
/
"Did he just-" started Junpei, still disoriented by the explosion.
Blade of Totsuka flashed, a nearly vertical, iron-red streak of steel slicing through a hundred disturbingly human hands of shadows before impacting against a granite-hard palm. It surged and heaved, flinging Souji away. From above, the blue-haired woman screamed – not in fright, but a loud stream of curses that scorched Junpei's ears.
Feisty. "Shush. How is the sword-swinging lunatic?" Alright for now – cover your eyes. "What-"
"Yamatotakeru!" yelled the woman above him. "Megidolaon!"
Very feisty.
/
A brilliant haze of godly light – one so bright he could see it through his tightly clenched eyelids. It was fortunate that a Persona's abilities rarely affected anything other than its intended targets - if it didn't, there might not be an apartment complex left.
Despite the grand display of power, however, the monstrous, shapeless form still remained, if… lessened.
Souji jerked to his feet. It wasn't just lessened. Something was in it. The ooze began to dissolve unto itself, revealing its core.
"…Adachi," said Souji tersely, but his eyes widened. The man's half-revealed body hung limply, as if suspended by the oozing shadows around it. His eyes were empty – not expressionless, but literally empty, two infinite tunnels into some frightful plane. It was more as if the Shadow was wearing him as a skin. A wave of revulsion washed over Souji as an ethereal tarot card formed in his hand.
The abomination smiled at him.
"Izanagi-no-Okami," whispered Souji in horror, clenching his fist over the card. "Ziodyne."
Lightning crackled, obliterating its form.
/
"You are not invincible, no matter what imbecilic derangement might have convinced you otherwise," Naoto said coldly, a hand clenched tightly around Souji's collar. Despite the disparity in their height, he wilted as if being stared down by a giant. The moon had returned to its calming white gaze, illuminating the brilliant red mark across Souji's cheek. "I don't care if your Persona lets you shrug off tank rounds! If you ever scare me like that again, for any reason…" She faltered, but hardened her grip. "I'd rather be alone than in a state of constant fear, do you understand?"
"…I'm sorry," he said, his hand enclosing around her own. "I acted rashly."
"We're not sixteen anymore," she said as he got closer. Anger subsided, replacing itself with worry. To her chagrin, she was starting to tear up. "Don't just go gallivanting off, thinking a Diarahan'll or Recarm'll get you back on your feet. We don't even know if the rules still work the same here…"
"Oh, they work the same alright," said Junpei as he rounded the hallway. "Thanks for the letting me use the phone. Name's Iori – Iori Junpei." He gave a bemused smile to the two detectives. "Who would've thought that the 'Empress of Investigations' and her boyfriend were in this particular line of work?"
"Seta Souji. I see you already recognize Naoto. …I have to admit, it was a shock to see another Persona user. What brought you here?"
Junpei tapped his head. "Trismegistus woke up. First time in… what, eleven years now? Thought I was going crazy for a moment – then I saw that big bastard crawl past my hotel, heading to your place." He laughed grimly. "Only, if my experiences were anything to go by, it might've been a mistake to kill it."
Naoto narrowed her eyes. "What exactly do you mean?"
Junpei blinked. "Huh? You don't know?" He looked around. "Actually, where are your Evokers? I thought Mitsuru might've been recruiting on the sly, but-" It was his turn to narrow his eyes at their blank expression. "…wait, you're not part of the Kirijo Group, are you? Just what the hell is going on here?"
"I could ask you much the same," said Naoto darkly. "The Kirijo Group was closely linked to an 'Apathy Syndrome' pandemic more than a decade ago – and now you tell me they're involved with Shadows?"
"Whoa, hold on!" said Junpei, gesticulating wildly. "That was Mitsuru's grandfather's fault-"
"So they were responsible for the incident!"
"It's not like that!" snapped Junpei, his hands tightening around his Evoker.
"Lay down your gun or-"
She stopped. Souji put a hand on her shoulders. "Hold on. That's not a real gun, Naoto. I saw him use it on himself. Iori-san, may I examine it please?"
Junpei hesitantly nodded, handing the Evoker, slightly rusty from ten years of non-use, to Souji. To all appearances, it was a semi-automatic pistol, except for a lack of a magazine or hollow barrel.
"…strange device," murmured Souji. "It's like my Persona's resonating with it. What did cause the Apathy Syndrome case, Iori-san?" He handed it to Naoto, who shared his puzzled expression as she handled it.
"Shadows," said Junpei darkly. "Demons, basically. There was a… a kind of a nest of them around my old high school, trying to summon this thing called 'Nyx' and end all life on Earth. My friends and I stopped them, but…" He glanced away, an old memory still sore. "Apparently, some of our sacrifices were in vain."
"…hmm. Not completely unlike our experience," said Naoto, glancing at Souji. "Though there are a few inconsistencies."
"Yeah, well, I didn't try to understand it," said Junpei dismissively. "All I know is, that big one? Won't be the last of its kind. And killing them only feeds the Big Bad they're working for. …the red moon's a new one to me, though."
"As it is to us," said Naoto. "What you describe sounds like some kind of sacrifice ritual."
"Yeah, I suppose it does," said Junpei, blinking.
"Human sacrifice," interjected Souji. He rubbed his chin – faint stubbles were beginning to grow in. "Naoto, Adachi was in the center of it. Or something that looked like him."
"Wait, the jumper?" asked Junpei as Naoto gave Souji a warning look. "…it wasn't a suicide? Wait, human sacrifice?"
"What my partner meant to say," grated Naoto. "Is that we are looking into a few inconsistencies in the case. And that it would be preferable if you were discreet about tonight's happenings." She stifled a yawn, suddenly aware of how late it was.
"Ah… uh, don't worry," said Junpei uncomfortably. "I don't wanna drag the Kirijo Group into anything myself. Here – my business card."
Souji nodded, reaching for his wallet. Junpei bowed politely as they exchanged cards.
"Look, Kirijo-sama's going to want to talk to you," said Junpei. "She'll probably 'execute' me if I don't arrange a meeting, even." Souji raised an eyebrow. "If your case involves Shadows, there's nobody more in the know. She'll be in Port City this weekend, so…"
"Thank you, Iori-san," said Naoto. "We greatly appreciate your help in our case."
"Yeah, just don't go jumping out of any more windows until then," said Junpei, grinning at Souji as Naoto handed back his Evoker.
Souji chuckled, then winced as Naoto glared and socked him in the arm.
/
Normally, sleeping on the couch wouldn't be entirely uncomfortable. They've done it a few times, prior to moving – late night noir dramas, or simply days and nights so long that they collapsed on it, not able to move any further into their abode. It pulled out into a futon anyways – and while it's been a while since he's irked her enough for him to get the couch treatment, it's not like he absolutely can't bear not having her sleep by his side.
The dreams tonight were rather unpleasant, though.
Souji's had the distinct displeasure of having to handle a decaying corpse before. It was his feet-first plunge into Naoto's professional world, and as it turns out it rarely involved heroically chasing down storybook villains with a clear-cut agenda and repetitive modes of conduct. Mostly, it was a lot of research, a lot of slow and meticulous analysis, and a bit of soul-scarring nightmare.
Being up close and personal with a corpse left exposed to the elements of a warm and humid Hokkaido summer familiarized him with the small, easily overlooked telltale details of foul play and their symptoms after weeks of decomposition, as well as giving him a far greater respect of the resilience of the diminutive woman detective. The disturbing slick of ichor-covered bones still gave him the creeps.
Was giving him the creeps.
No, was freaking him out.
He was struggling against sharp, hard claws of bone oozing gray and green, feeling his skin burn horrifyingly with blight and sickness. He tried to scream, but they've torn out his tongue, gagging him with writhing maggots and waste.
Hot tears streamed down, blinding him as he thrashed against his befouled imprisonment. He could see pale corpseflesh slowly rising out of the muck, tried screaming again as Adachi's empty eyes leered, a rictus – a real rictus – plastered on his cracked lips.
That's how it feels to be me, the grotesque parody hissed in an unnatural voice. The corpsemask began to dissolve, and Souji finally succeeded in finding his voice, a guttural, primal sound of fear as he finally saw what was beneath, finally recognized-
He jerked awake.
The gray-blue dusk was cast over his face, the early morning sky and sound of delivery traffic calmly greeting him. Sweet, blessed amnesia was already settling over the memories of his nightmare, though his ragged breathing and cold sweat was evidence enough to trigger unpleasant memories.
"The hell," muttered Souji. He carefully got up and approached the bedroom – Naoto was breathing peacefully. Good. She's a light sleeper – if he'd actually screamed, she'd already be dragging him to the nearest psychiatrist in order to help him. If at all possible, he'd wanted to avoid worrying her.
He went into the bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing as the sudden brightness seared his eyes. No scratches, no bruises – his face looked a bit ragged, but that was mostly the need for a shave and the lack of sustained sleep. He ached too, but entirely from last night's incident, and he remembered Naoto's admonishment about not being a resilient teenager. So far, so good. He washed his face quickly, dragged a razor over the grayish whiskers and brushed his mouth as thoroughly as possible.
By the time Naoto woke up, he had a full four-course breakfast laid out for her in apology (she was almost childlike in her delight), and there wasn't the slightest memory of the nightmare left.
/
- Kanra has entered the chatroom -
Kanra: Ohayo~ \(^o^)
Kanra: Ehh? Anybody here?
Setton: Ah, Kanra-san. Ohayo.
Setton: Did you hear an explosion last night? Around 1 AM?
Kanra: Explosion? O_o Ehhh?
Kanra: Are you sure you weren't dreaming?
Setton: …maybe.
Kanra: Maybe it was an alien abduction! ^o^
Setton: …n-no way! wwwww Like anything like that'd happen.
Setton: Right?
Setton: Kanra-san?
- Kanra has left the chatroom -
