The monorail rode smooth. Too smooth. In London, the Underground would have its bumps and bucks, a tad bruising, but enough to lull you to sleep. This... this too-clean, no-name train runs its rail like a broken dog.

It's a lie!
If I lie right here... Girl, this was your idea,
you know it's not my fault.
You say you want my love,
well my love taste o' salt.
I've got a list of things I want to do before I think of someone else's sorrow...

The ocean wasn't so blinding in the early morning. More of a deep, calm blue, like an evening sky full of rain. I sighed, rubbing at my eyes as the wispy clouds flew by.

If there's a deeper meaning that you're tryin' to find well it's in your head,
you'd better treat it kind!
If you've done misread me,
then I'll make it clear tomorrow!

I had gone with Akihiko to school that day- but not before checking in with Mitsuru, who was not at all pleased that I had checked out of a hospital in semi-critical condition in the middle of the night. She didn't like my excuse of "I don't like hospitals" either. What a surprise. In fact, Akihiki managed to skillfully sidetrack her from biting my head off completely by brining up that Ikutsuki- chairman-suit-bloke- was showing up later that day. To tell the truth, Mitsuru was the reason I had gone to school early. Call me a pussy bitch, will you? Well, you're not far off the mark, yeoman.

Akihiko. Coat-over-shoulder bloke. I studied him out of the corner of my eye the entire slide to school. He would've fit in proper in London- the way his eyes were never still, crinkled at the corners, never fully open, always scanning the world around him. The tension in his shoulders that made him a centimeter shorter, broader. The slanted face, knocked out of uniformity by a broken nose, a cracked eye socket giving him a permanent cock to the left eyebrow, a smashed cheekbone, all healed fully but crudely. The clenched jaw, sitting slightly off-center, ready for an uppercut at any time. Odd as it may sound, I felt... relaxed, around him. Chilling intensity rose off him like steam, but he reminded me of my brothers. A bit like Mosley, to be exact. They had that same subtle wit.

As the train glided to a noiseless stop at the school terminal, Akihiko bade me goodbye and briskly jogged away to the gym for- you guessed it- training. By the time I had pulled off my left headphone to mumble a goodbye, he had disappeared into a crowd of swooning girls. Training, he said? Training for what? Atom splitting? Blimey, some people. Heard about that Japanese work ethic, but fuckin' bollocks.

I clocked the time on my mobile. Five o'clock and seven minutes.

Wish I could tell you I'm a better guy,
that love is all around and only real man cry but all I want to do is jump your bones and slamdance all night to the music of your moans!

It's a lie!
If I lie right here...
It's a lie!
If I lie right here...

... Eight minutes.

Fuck.


Those three hours weren't a complete waste, though. After doing the whole shoe-locker switch thing, I wandered the halls, my bag feeling oddly heavy for the first week of school, I clocked a bookstore- yes, that's right. A full-blown bookstore in a highschool. The Japanese take their education very seriously, so Arch tells me. Now I know he wasn't just trying to kick me out of the house- I mean, fuck, the library itself had its own building, twice the size of my early-years orphanage.

I poked my head in, grazed over the thick texts that were bloody college level no doubt, and found myself in an empty corner of the store dedicated to Japanese-to-English dictionaries. Just what I needed. I picked up the cheapest one I could find- simple solid cover, simple font, thin pages, just as I liked it- and flipped through it a tad, stopping at "indignation".

Don't get me wrong. I can understand Japanese- when it comes out of a textbook, very slowly. I have no idea what the blokes on the street are saying most of the time. I mean, Christ, the only reason I can figure out what Junpei is saying half the time is because he's always gesturing and waving his hands around like an Sicilian ventriloquist.

Speaking of which, the bloke behind the counter tried his hand at sign language as I came forward, as if I couldn't read the LED on the cash register.

"Cash only. I get it," I said dryly as I thumbed through the crumpled notes in my wallet.

"Hey, sorry man, just making sure."

"Right." Tossed a bill onto the glass counter, noting the books on display within. Tale of Genji? Gotta keep that in mind. "They pay you for this?"

Bookstore cashier bloke was having some trouble with the barcode scanner. "Sorry, what was that?"

"You're a student, aren't you? What I mean is- well- do they pay you for working here?"

He smoothed the barcode against the book's spine and the scanner beeped cheerfully. "Oh, that. Nope. Cool if they did, though." He handed me the book, with a complementary bookmark. Thanks, mate. Because I love bookmarks for my dictionaries. "This gig is like a club. Just with less pointless meetings. Sucks I have to get here early, but, it's either that or some other crap."

"Uh huh." I slipped the translator's dictionary into my bag. "Look good on your applications, at least."

"Yeah." He yawned, helping himself to a thermos of coffee stashed beneath the counter. "Tomochika Kenji. Or, Kenji Tomochika. You know what I mean."

"Huh? Oh. Right." First-last name ordering. I held out my hand. "Jack Scarborough."

"Yeah, I know. I sit way behind you in comp." An impish coffee-stained grin came to his face. "And you're right behind Yukari Takeba. How does it feel, man? To be so close, yet so far to that ass?"

I sighed, and shook my head, smiling in spite of myself. "See you in class, Kenji," I said with a tired wave as I wandered out the door.


I spent the rest of the spare time before class being lost. Not a bad lost, really; the architecture of the school was simply swell to look over. Dropped by the archery club- technically called kyudo, but you probably know that already- and watched the seniors take some potshots at targets twenty meters away like it was nothing. Damn. Hard to see Yukari doing this kind of thing.

Looked around for the gym or wherever Akihiko had scampered off to, seeing what Mr. Train-Like-Fuck was doing- probably bench pressing Shinto statues or something- but the first bell rang and I had to haul my arse back to class.

Which was on the opposite side of the school. Great.

Even with all the walking I had been doing, staying awake in class proved a hell of a challenge- kept myself awake by cracking my knuckles painfully, then cracking them back into place. Very effective. Though there were some classes I didn't need to give myself arthritis to stay awake- example, my Japanese literature class, where one wall was a e-fucking-normous woodblock print of some medieval-era Japanese castle, another was filled with racks of swords and a suit of Japanese armor. They have a word for that kind of thing... eccentric? Oh, and he wore a samurai helmet. All the time. Went well with his suit, actually. At least he has some taste.

Unfortunately for this swordmaster- or teacher, whatever- he was stuck in ancient history, and seemed to be almost as bored as his students were. I amused myself by staring at the wall of swords and wondering which ones would hurt most.

Let's fast forward: went home with Junpei again- who was kind enough to volunteer to get all my make-up work, what a chum- and this time he took me through yet another mall. Christ, this city is a consumerist clusterfuck.

"You alright, man?"

I stared off into the distance. Why are the payphones here green? Whose idea was that? "Huh?"

Junpei snapped the stick of Pocky in his mouth in two, handing me a half. Um. Thanks. "You've been gone for the past two days, and you look like crap. You been sick?"

"Sick?" Dot dot dot. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Just a cold. Not contagious anymore, don't worry." Hey, this Pocky stuff isn't as shitty as it looks.

"Yeah, y'see bro, hate to be the one to say this, but homework will fuck you up the ass and to the left if you just let it go." He tugged his hat down, the sunset in our eyes. The pedestrians on the street were starting to thin out.

"What I wanted to hear," I yawned, shifting my now-uncomfortably-heavy bag on my shoulder. "Well, thanks, china. You surprised me, there, getting my missed work and all."

He scratched his goatee, almost embarassed. "Shit, bro, it's all cool. What are bros for, yeah?" He held out his fist, almost making me flinch back.

Wait a tick... "Yeah." I knocked my fist to his. Oh, Christ almighty. My first Japanese brofist. Arch would be so proud.


Know who I wouldn't give a brofist? Ikutsuki.

Let me explain why. I make my way back to the dorm in the late evening, tired as hell and just wanting to sleep properly. Except- oh, it's Yukari. And she wants me to get all the way upstairs because... Ikutsuki is here. Why? Yukari gives me a sort of loaded look and shakes her head, her bangs swinging. For fuck's sake.

Add three more flights of stairs and a pissed off Jack walking through the door to the... secondary lounge? Who designed this place? Fuck! "Scarborough-kun!" rang a joyous voice. "It's so nice to see you again! Are you feeling better?"

I blinked. Ikutsuki had crossed the room and was shaking my hand a bit too lovingly as Yukari slid past us with a mouthed "sorry" and sat down on the couch. I pushed my agitation to the back of my head and returned the handshake. "Yes, thank you, I'm well. How are you?"

"Oh, splendid, just splendid! But don't you go worrying about me! That's my job- worrying! About students, of course." Ikutsuki pushed his glasses up his nose, suddenly serious. "Now, please have a seat."

The five most reassuring words in the English bloody vocabulary. I sat down heavily on a stool, my knees bumping the coffee table. I looked around- Mitsuru and Akihiko were on the opposite couch. I gave a greeting nod, which Akihiko returned- but Mitsuru just stared at me thoughtfully, intently. Like I was a... a math problem, or something.

"Undoubtedly, you have at least a general idea as to why you're here," pressed Ikutsuki, leaning forward in his armchair and steepling his long, bony fingers.

I ran my eyes over the coffee table- a heavy metal briefcase was laid in front of Mitsuru. Didn't like where this was going. "Yeah, I... I'm sure I do. About that..." I waved my hand vaguely. "... Happening."

Ikutsuki nodded, light glinting off his glasses eerily. "Yes, that's right." He leaned back slightly. "But we have a name for it, you see. The Dark Hour."

Well, that's... creative. "Uh huh. So all of you can... see it? Feel it?" Couldn't think of the right verb. 'Experience' had too positive a ring to it.

"That's right." I glanced over at Mitsuru, only to turn my eyes down. Christ she had a killing stare. "There appear to be an amount of people who don't suffer the usual effects- being transmogrified into a coffin- during the Dark Hour. However-"

"When you aren't in a coffin, that makes you prime target practice for the Shadows," cut in Akihiko. "You've already had to deal with that, three nights ago. With your Persona."

Three nights ago? That thing on the roof? Wait hold on, Shadows... that's plural... there's MORE of those buggers? "Yes," said Mitsuru, with a sharp look at Akihiko. "These Shadows, from what we understand, are the physical manifestations of the human id- negative, primal impulses. If you've been watching the news, you'll have heard of a condition known as Apathy Syndrome-"

"Wait, those people are Shadows?" I found it hard to believe that mumbling sleepwalkers on the street could become killer ink splotches at night.

"No," continued Mitsuru, "those people- the Lost- are the victims of the Shadows. That's why we've made it our duty to fight the Shadows- to save those who would otherwise be completely defenseless."

"All of that is correct." Ikutsuki looked from Akihiko to Misturu approvingly. "And to follow this duty, we have established the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad- S.E.E.S., if you would- a school club dedicated to eradicating these parasites from Japan. Mitsuru is the leader, and I act as the club adviser from the school. Oh- but of course, the school doesn't knowingly support our nighttime vigilante work," he added with a chuckle.

This was a lot to take in. I stared at the briefcase on the table between us. "This is... great and all, but... where do these things come from? I mean, Shadows? The Dark Hour? Or- how do they even work?"

Silence hung in the room for a moment. "We... aren't exactly sure," Yukari said- the first thing she had said. I had forgotten she was there.

"But we are still researching with all available resources to find the answers to all of the this. The important thing here, Jack-kun-" whoa hey first name little close for comfort there Ikutsuki "is that you aren't alone anymore. There are other people who deal with this midnight horror." He paused. "Or, for you, because of the time difference, it would've been-"

"Twelve o'clock." Everyone stared at me. I shifted uncomfortably. "I know. I was surprised when I got to Japan- happens at midnight in London, happens at midnight here. I don't know how that's possible. It- it shouldn't be."

Ikutsukai frowned, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. "Most intriguing. Not only does the Dark Hour effect those outside Japan... but at the very same time, in the face of the laws of physics as we know them. Intriguing indeed!"

I rubbed my eyes. Fuck all of this talking was making me tired. "So that's it. You want me to join your little playground Gestapo here. That's why- the room holdup, the tuition-"

"None of these events were planned, Scarborough-san. It was all coincidence." Mitsuru stood, and clicked open the briefcase. Sitting patiently inside was... a gun? "This is an Evoker. It allows you to unleash your Persona- your inner power- during the Dark Hour."

"We would like you to join us, Jack-kun," said Ikutsuki plainly. No shit, Sherlock.

I had fucked myself this time. If I refused, my free ticket to Japanese education was gone. Gekkoukan would throw my arse out. These secret police pillocks would probably put a bullet in me before I got home. God. I had gotten myself into deep shit now.

My hand reached out, fingers closing around the grip. It was... heavy, for a little pistol. I turned it over in my hands, keeping my fingers away from the trigger like death.

I sighed.

"Okay."


"Took you long enough."

I started awake. The dorm room- my room, now- was bathed in a sickly green light, but even more nauseating was the figure sitting on the end of my bed. Purple stormbeater contract bloke. "You!"

"No amnesia, either. Fucking amazing, saves me a lot of exposition."

I rolled my arse out of bed, landing gracelessly on the wood paneling. "Fuck! How did you-"

"You've been getting sucked into a batshit insane alternate time-irrelevant dimension for the past seven years of your life, and you're going to ask how one guy got into your room? Come on." Purple stormbeater bloke scratched at his stubbly chin. "You're better than that."

"Sure, yeah, whatever." I had snatched up my flick knife from my bedstand, but the blade wasn't out- wanted to see what he was up to.

He stood, stretched, and walked his way over to the window, parting the blinds and looking down at the hauntingly green street below. "Something's coming, you know."

"What?" I made a move to get closer to the window.

"No, you stupid fuck. I mean figuratively. Something is going to happen."

... Okay. "What does-"

"It all mean? I have no fucking idea. All I know is that it ain't good. Come on- haven't you felt it? That something... wrong was coming?"

"... Not really."

He sighed. "Why am I not surprised." He straightened up his coat and turned to leave.

I let the knife open. What can I say? This bloke scared me more than anything right now. "Hey, hold up. Who are you, anyway? You're not... like the others."

He stopped, turned, and spread his hands with an innocent smile. "Me? Oh, no one, really. Think of me as your guardian ang- no, that won't do. Guardian... gargoyle. Yeah. That's more like it, don't you think?"

This is just making no fucking sense. "You have a name?"

The guardian of the Dark Hour paused. "Yeah. To you, I am Stockholm."

And then he melted into the darkness, taking the green with him.