Disclaimer: The intellectual property rights to Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3 belong to Atlus and its respective creative directors, as does the light novel series, Suzumiya Haruhi, with Tanigawa Nagaru and Noizi Ito.
Author's Notes: A perpetual cycle.
Epilogue: Blue Butterfly
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"I chooseth this fate of mine on my own free will."
When my senses return, I find myself standing at the precipice of a circular plateau, not unlike the one I just vacated, but significantly smaller. Two tall pillars dot the perimeter and when I peer over the edge, there is no visible support, only the same black void that surrounds me and stretches on as far as my eyes could see. My only source of light—the irradiated moon that hangs abnormally close—basks me in its unearthly glow, like an actor on stage. The moonlight directs me forward and draws my eyes to a figure seated on an elaborate black throne in the centre of the plateau.
Haruhi.
In her resting state, she looks peaceful and content. I forget how beautiful she is. It is almost ethereal how the moonlight illuminates her features. Her beauty is unnatural. I cannot tear my eyes away. She really is—
I shake my head.
A sudden sense of vertigo washes over me.
"Calm yourself, Arisato Minato. It will pass."
The toneless voice belongs to a man; a masked one. It is a distinct mask, which cuts just under his cheekbone to reveal a quarter of his face—a defined jawline and half of his mouth. The man wears a neat ponytail and is clothed in a form-fitting black ensemble. He descends the steps of the small dais and stops before me.
Nyarlathotep.
The man doesn't visibly react. "You mistake me. I am Philemon."
I am neither gullible nor stupid to take it at face value.
I tell him as much.
"What reason would I have to lie? I dwell in the rift between consciousness and unconsciousness of all souls. My existence is tied to yours, and yours to mine. It was I who sent my assistants to guide you through your journey. One even bore the price to uncover the depths of her resolve and to ease you of your burden, and I permitted it. For it has brought you here with me."
I'm not thoroughly convinced, but there isn't much I could do now. Instead, I question him about the Nyarlathotep.
"My counterpart is inconsequential. The moment you found yourself here, your choice had already been decided," Philemon explains. "You must be wondering where we are. It is a place that exists both outside the universe yet stands at its very centre. This is where Suzumiya Haruhi rests. That is why you feel drawn to her; she is the star in which you orbit."
A part of me doesn't want to believe that I was predisposed to like her; that my feelings are simply a part of their machinations. Yet, I can't help but think this to be true.
I ask him to clarify.
"Yes, you were chosen, but not by us," he says. "However, your actions are your own. Igor has told you this."
It may be my imagination, but I could almost detect a hint of exasperation in his words.
"You think me as an architect; that you are merely a function of my grand design. I am not. I have simply done what I could to aid and mitigate any further interference from my counterpart; despite the agreements we have arranged, his compliance can be circumspect, as you are aware. To do more would simply hinder your potential and sour the experience of my victory."
I grit my teeth.
People have died because of his stupid game.
"Not a game. A wager. Between equals," Philemon tells me. "And people have and will die in spite of me. It is folly to assume that I have a hand in every death that occurs in your world. People die simply because it is the nature of your kind.
"That is why I will savour this victory. Twice before mankind has proven that the potential of the collective unconscious is limitless, and now you as well. You, Harbinger. You, who embody Death and commands it. You were able to fight against your innate destructive nature, proving my counterpart wrong. You have become an enlightened being; one of the select few from the billions that inhabit your world. A human leading the perfect exist—"
I slam the butt of my sheathe against the side of his face, knocking the mask aside. Philemon holds his ground, but keeps his head bowed as he cradles his head in his hands.
Is this what an enlightened being would do?
"Yes, this is not the first time I have been assaulted."
He straightens. When he pulls his hand away, my face stares back at me. Honestly, I can't find it in me to be surprised anymore. I am far too tired. Instead, I ask him what happens now.
"Your fears are unwarranted. Your decision will see mankind be given another chance in their pursuit of enlightenment."
I almost laugh.
So nothing is really going to change. My actions—my choice—ultimately means delaying the inevitable until everyone in the world somehow wakes up and cracks the human condition?
Unmindful of my sarcasm, Philemon simply nods.
Then, what about me?
"You shall take your place as one of the foundations of the universe. It is the law of equivalent exchange. Your existent will be proffered in exchange—from now until eternity," he explains.
I take a deep breathe. I suppose I was somehow always prepared for this, but it's normal to be afraid, isn't it? To err is human as is darkness is to fear. I still ask Philemon if this is the right thing to do.
"It is the noble decision."
Why?
"I have peered into the depths of humanity. You are capable of great things—both awe-inspiring and terrible acts. Each one of you is capable of it. Yet, all the great feats are simple: valour, empathy, loyalty, hope. Are these virtues not the same ones that led you down this path?"
No, it was... it is... love.
I love her.
My eyes find Haruhi once more.
Well, I suppose she'll finally be normal now; that might probably be the last thing she wants.
"You are mistaken. Elizabeth has not conveyed my explanation satisfactorily."
I look at him in confusion.
"She is both human and God. Yet, she is not. Her existence contradicts her reality. On Earth, she is as human as you are. Here, she embodies the Great Outer God; the amalgamation of nuclear chaos—the start and the end of the universe. She is the mother of all things," Philemon explains. "She is not like you. She was not chosen. We were.
"Do you understand now? She exists in the form you see before you because the imagery mankind has of its gods is far too simplistic to the reality. Your subconscious may hold unlimited potential, but your conscious mind limits you. She simply chose a form that would not destroy your mind."
But she won't... the Dark Hour is gone!
"She created it on a whim. She does not require it to propagate her existence. Her powers will never diminish. Ever."
My whole body is trembling now; out of rage, out of fear, out of disbelief. Again and forever, I see myself, like a cog turning in place.
Then, what is the point of all this?!
"To love God is to know her and to put her first. You will do just that as one of the foundations of the universe. Was I unclear before?" Philemon says, motioning to two pillars around us. "You will watch over her, together with the ones that came before you. They too have sacrificed their existence for her and the betterment of your kind." He shakes his head lightly. "Perhaps in time, someone else will reach out to the human known as Suzumiya Haruhi and do the same."
Fuck this.
No, I... don't want this, Haru—I don't even know her real name.
"To utter her true name is to hear the end of all things."
I look back at her.
I once told her that our lives matter because of its transience; that we would live long in the memory of others after we're gone. You, who exists outside time and space.
You, Haruhi.
Philemon, still wearing my face, smiles at me. "Come, Arisato Minato. Your legacy awaits."
Would you even remember me?
Satonaka Chie to Hanamura Yosuke and Amagi Yukiko - "Another one?! Jeez, our little town sure has gotten popular. First, there was Yosuke, then... ugh, 'her'. God, I hope King Moron switches the seating arrangement. I don't think I can go on for another year with little miss prissy as my partner.
April 12th, 2011 [Tuesday] - Early Morning
Yasogami High School
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Inaba is different...
Last night's weird dream aside, I don't mean it in a bad way or anything. It's not like I'm a big-city snob. It's just that having lived a single location all your life, you are settled into a cycle; familiar faces, sights and haunts. Rinse and repeat. Everything moved and felt faster back home.
Here?
I feel like I've been standing in place for ages. This is actually true, but I exaggerate. It's only been like five—no, ten minutes. Our homeroom teacher is still stuck finalising our seating arrangements.
"Witchcraft!"
"Settle down, Hanamura! Or you're right back in my shit list!" Morooka-sensei sneers at me like I've cursed his first-born son. "Fine, go take your seat! But if I so much as hear a peep from any of your teachers about you leering at her, you're gone. You get me?"
I—uh...
"Stop wasting everyone's time!"
Right...
At least, the people here aren't any different than in the city.
I hastily make my way to the corner of the class and casually greet my new seating partner. She is pretty and pale; the kind of girl that guys tend to go crazy for. I kinda get why Morooka-sensei is antsy. The girl with the shoulder-length brown hair doesn't even acknowledge my presence and continues to stare out the window.
I press on regardless.
I remark about how weird it was that our names kept coming up together. Four times. In a row. The chances were astronomical. I laugh despite myself. The universe must be trying to tell us something.
That catches her attention. Her big brown eyes peek out from under her bangs and looks at me in disinterest.
"Who are you again?"
I look at her oddly.
I spent ten minutes at the front of the class for my introduction and having Morooka-sensei nitpick our seating arrangement. Our names must have been called more times than I can count; mostly in frustration from the rest of the class. Still, I didn't want to make an even worse first impression, so I introduce myself again.
Hello, Suzumiya Haruhi.
I'm Narukami Yu.
"Oh... You're the new transfer student, right?"
Side Note: The fourth pillar. The fourth iteration.
