Succeed and you win your heart's desire. Fail, and history repeats. Everything hurt, and Akira felt every pothole and bump in the road as the taxi sped to the hotel. Even breathing was an effort. This time, there had been no plan, no last-minute redemption, just Shinshaudo's unseeing eyes and Mitsuru all but shoving them out the door as time reasserted itself and Port Island sprang to life. Morgana, an ordinary cat once more, dug his claws into Akira's lap, and his hair stood up. Probably just barely restraining himself from berating Akira for stupidity. He was made for calling down wrath on evildoers, not healing the wounded and soothing their minds so that they could stay calm in battle, and even Wild Cards paid a price for going against their nature. But Sae and Professor King had needed a healer as much as a soldier. And I would burn myself out one thousand times before I let that thing have her.

He wished Sae would say or do something. Scream, yell, hit him, something. But she sat opposite him, unmoving and silent. The light bleached the color from her skin and her eyes were dull and flat, with none of the fire, passion, or humor that so enthralled him. Her dress was a mess, and she had a death grip on the model gun. He ought to have taken her in his arms, kissed her, stroked her hair and told her everything that he was thinking. That no human should have seen what she had seen tonight, that no one who hit a Shadow in the nose was weak, that whatever corner of her brain that spawned Leviathan was wrong about everything. That he loved her. That he was sorry he wasn't stronger. But when he opened his mouth to speak, there was only the terrible burning in his chest.

The taxi stopped. "Can you walk?" Her voice was toneless.

He winced. "You'll have to help me." His voice was a croak.

But even as pain knifed his chest, shoulders, and legs, his mind still worked. That…thing had loomed over Dr. Shinshaudo. Her eyes had been sightless and unseeing, her arms folded as if for burial. Only the barest rise of her chest had given away that this wasn't a true corpse. Goro and the Conspiracy had left dozens of husks in their wake, and now it was happening again. For what? Journals? To screw with him? With Sae?

You will serve, said the voice in his head. And in serving me, you shall rule. Pain pricked behind his eyes. You were yourself tonight. Didn't it feel good to obliterate those Shadows and terrify Leviathan? The pain will fade with practice, and there are so many hearts to take. You could free Sato now, tonight. Take the prosecutor's heart. I'll even help you.

He leaned into Sae as she half-carried him through the door. "No thanks," he whispered. "It works better when I don't."

And yet, I don't see Madarame's Shadow causing trouble. Leviathan was so easy to bring back. The world needs the Phantom.

Morgana ran ahead of them. "He needs to go to bed."

No. What he needed was something to soothe the pain so he could think straight and make sure that monster never hurt anyone ever again. "You and bed! I have work to do."

But Sae was already dragging him to the bed and laying him down gently. The barest ember kindled in her eyes. "Tell me how to help him," and fear crept into her flat voice. He was going to make that monster pay. And if he ever got his hands on Leviathan again, he would make her wish she had stayed reformed rather than cause the real Sae pain.

He let her pull his shoes off, but when she started on the buttons of his shirt with her trembling fingers, he caught her hand in his. "It'll be all right." It hurt to smile, but he managed it. "But I won't be any good for sex tonight."

"You—" A sob ripped from her throat and tears flowed from her cheeks. The tremor in her hands traveled up and down her body. "Oh, God," she said and her mask shattered into a thousand pieces and her emotions came roaring back to life. Fear. Pain. And something beyond all that that he could only call horror. "Oh God."

He watched helplessly as the sobs overtook her. Morgana looked between them and, apparently deciding there was nothing he could do for Akira at the moment, rubbed against her bare feet. "It's okay. You did really well for your first time in a Shadow world and not having a Persona. Ryuji came a lot closer to dying."

Akira coughed. "Not helping."

She sniffled. "This is what you were fighting for half a year? How are you not crazy? Makoto..."

"Technically, it was more like eight months…"

"Morgana..."

But Sae balled her hands into fists and bit her lip. Her breathing was labored and her voice sounded strange, the broken tone overlaid with the one she used during interrogations. "No. You're hurt. You broke yourself for me. You don't need to deal with my nervous breakdowns." She smoothed his hair. "What do you need?"

He coughed again. "Go to bed. You don't need to do anything else for me. You've done enough for me for a lifetime."

She flinched. "Yes, I suppose I have," and there was acid mixed with the pain in her voice. "That's twice now I've almost gotten you killed."

"You two deserve each other." Morgana's fur bristled as he glared at them. "Ms. Niijima, finish undressing Akira and go to bed. Neither of you are going to be any good against what's haunting you if you don't get some rest."

"Because we're going to get so much sleep with the eldritch abomination seared into our brains." He studied Sae's ashen skin and the shadows like bruises under her eyes. He had been strong enough to prevent this, once. Strong enough to change the hearts of all Tokyo and free them from a tyrannical god. But now he was just a frightened man hairsbreadth from breaking apart. "Will you stay with me tonight? Both of you? To keep the darkness away for a little while?"

"Oh, Akira," Sae whispered and she was crying again, but it was a different kind of crying. She wiped her eyes and climbed into the bed beside him, still in the dress. Her grip was like a vise as her arm snaked around his waist and she buried her damp face in the his chest. Morgana curled at his feet. Akira lay and listened to Sae's ragged breathing. She was cold, but still warmer than he was and Akira curled against her and tried to soak in the heat. Sae burrowed against him in return, and Akira stroked her hair. She loved him, and he loved her, and no god who made imitation Dark Hours was going to take that away.

It was on that note that he fell asleep.

He would never get used to being on TV. The lights shone almost but not quite in his face and the set still looked like someone had vomited a rainbow. The crowd—not just high schoolers, but people of all ages—leaned forward in their seats, waiting to hear what Japan's premier young adult author was up to now. Sae sat beside him, her skin glowing with health and a small smile playing at her lips. The diamond and garnet ring on her left hand glittered in the light. "Deep breaths."

"Mr. Niijima," said the host in a smooth voice. "Your works are set in fantastical realms with magic, but there's no denying the recognizable types. Your heroes are frequently those who are ostracized by society. You seem especially fond of former criminals. How do you respond to those who say that you are corrupting the youth?"

"I would remind them that Japan has a long history of prioritizing rehabilitation. Redemption is out of reach for no one truly wants it." He shot Sae a quick smile. "Those who choose to change themselves for the better are the greatest heroes of all. I would also remind them that many of these young people exist on the margins and it is society as a whole that commits the real crimes. They need to know that they can fight back against injustice, that authority that comes from power is not the same as moral authority. I hope my books give them a voice."

"Passionately spoken, sir, but I suppose we can expect nothing less from the husband of Japan's premier legal crusader." He turned to Sae. I understand you have undertaken a new case aimed at requiring all interrogations to be videotaped?"

"That's correct. No one knows better than me how tempting it is to take shortcuts. I—"

"I have a question," said a booming voice. "Do you really think this fantasy has any chance of becoming reality while you remain a pathetic mortal? They will eat you alive."

The audience changed. Those who had been hanging on his every word now stood up, trembling with rage.

"What do you think you are? You're going to create chaos!"

"Do you want criminals to go free?"

"Get a real job!"

"He should have been hanged."

Sae convulsed, her blazer vanishing to be replaced by a long black dress. Her eyes flashed gold. "This is what I really am. No redemption ever really sticks. You really think I'd risk everything for a foolish boy like you?"

The host vanished, replaced by the tall thing in yellow rags. "I'm your only hope of happiness. Take my offer, Phantom Thief of Hearts."

His eyes snapped open. Cold sweat poured down his face. Bed. He was in bed in the hotel room. Morgana perched on his chest, looking terrified. Akira turned his head, and let out a shaky breath. Sae sat on the edge of the bed, almost but not quite touching him. She must have gotten up at some point, because she had changed into her blazer. Her skin was pale, and her mouth was half-open, but it was her, brown eyes and all. "Just a nightmare," he whispered. "Just a nightmare."

Her arms came around him. "Yes. Just a nightmare." She pressed her lips to his forehand. "I'm here. Morgana's here. We're the only ones." She held him like that as he shivered and fought to keep his breathing under control.

"I thought you were going to kill me, thrashing around like that," Morgana said. "I wanted to wake you, but she said I shouldn't."

"You never wake someone having a night terror."

"You weren't sleeping any better. I heard you whimpering."

Sae glared at Morgana. "It's no business of yours. I thought you were supposed to be some kind of expert on these worlds. So, please, just tell me what's going on and why Leviathan is back and why someone or something is trying to drive me and Akira crazy. And what the hell that thing in yellow is."

"I…don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Sae's voice became colder and sharper with every word and her grip tightened around Akira until it hurt. "What good are you if—" She inhaled sharply. "Sorry. Sorry. You saved our lives last night, and you didn't deserve that." Another deep breath. "Would you like some fish?"

"Apology breakfast? I insist on salmon." He hopped down from the bed. "I don't know what's going on. My expertise is only with the Metaverse, and that's gone. Let me think on it for a few minutes while Akira makes himself decent." But as he headed towards the common area, he whispered, "Maybe we should have taken her heart? Would that have stopped the corruption?"

Told you so.

Sae flinched and stood up to walk to the window where Port Island was beginning to stir to life. She wrapped her arms around herself. Akira wished suddenly, perversely, that he had a fraction of Yusuke's talent. He would have liked to draw her like this, pensive, sad, her jacket an armor against the demons. Empress Katsuki stood at the balcony, wondering just who would die to end this war. Akira followed her to the window and put his arms around her. She didn't lean back against him. "Is what he said true? Is Leviathan back because you didn't steal my Treasure?"

Oh crap."I don't know. You and Futaba are the only targets I ever wanted to hang around with after the job was over, and hers is the only good guy Shadow I've ever seen. Also, I like not being dead." He turned her to face him and ran a finger down her cheek. "If you want to blame something, blame that thing in yellow rags."

She laughed bitterly. "There you go again, comforting me when you're the one having night terrors. After rescuing me."

"It's not a competition." He hoped his smile was playful. "Anybody who has had a winged bat-thing attack them is allowed to freak out as much as they want."

"I hate this. I hate being useless," she whispered. Sae stroked his face, running her fingers over his lips and jaw and smoothing his hair. "I can't do anything about that world, but in this one, let me help you. If there's anything I can do, just say the word. You deserve that much." She kept stroking him, gentle smooth motions that made him shiver and bite his lip. "Heroes are allowed to freak out, too."

He swallowed. "And writers? Thing keeps telling me that bringing back the Metaverse is the only thing that will let me have a happy ending. And I really, really want one now."

"Me too. But I want a happy ending with the writer." She pushed away very gently to rummage through his slacks discarded on the floor until she found the pocket watch. She pressed it into his palm and folded his fingers over it.

Pathetic. But the voice was faint and weak like an old man. As long as he remembered he really was and what he really wanted, they would be all right. He might have to don the mask again, but only to deal with monsters. And then he would have his ordinary happy ending with this brilliant, extraordinary woman. He dressed, quietly, and put the watch in his breast pocket, the metal a comforting weight against his skin.

Morgana sat on the table, his tail swishing back and forth. "I've been brainstorming—and waiting very patiently for that fish—and I want you to tell me everything that Leviathan and the other guy said and did. I have a theory, but I need to be sure."

So Akira did, beginning from the moment the lights went out and ending when he blacked out in Dr. Shinshaudo's bedroom. Sae interjected from time to time, filling in Leviathan's running commentary in her head.

Morgana frowned. "Justice must be done. Hmmm. And you're right that Leviathan does seem more malicious now than she did five years ago. But also more limited. My apologies to Ms. Niijima, but Leviathan never could take a loss. But she brushes off Akira rubbing her nose in it? In fact, she almost completely ignores him once he activates his Persona and seems actually upset that the doctor suffered a breakdown."

"She was too busy trash talking me. It's been like this the whole time. Every other sentence of hers in my head is that I should just give in because there's no point. But I'd rather die than be what I was before."

"Shadows are the parts of ourselves we would rather not acknowledge; she's not a separate person."

"But I don't..." Her brow furrowed. "I was miserable in the prosecutor's office after Dad died. I've got everything I ever wanted only after. More than I deserve, really." Recognition dawned in her eyes as she and Morgana looked at each other. "You're saying that I'm doing this to myself? That this is all some kind of punishment?"

Akira closed his eyes. The image of Sae on the balcony, bleeding and terrified on her knees as Leviathan glared at her and made her ultimatum filled his vision. He found her hand under the table. "But you don't deserve this. You were abrasive and way, way too focused on winning but Shido and Kaneshiro were way higher on my list of people I wouldn't have minded losing it. That was why Makoto was so sure we wouldn't have to steal your heart—that you weren't too far gone. And why team up with that thing in yellow? Isn't that a bit, well, human?"

"That I genuinely have no idea about, or why he seems to be targeting both you and Ms. Niijima specifically. The previous incidents you told me about seemed to be connected to a specific place, but the visions started in Tokyo and the creature promised to meet you in Inaba. If we could discover his identity, we might be able to make more sense of this, but I have no idea how to do that."

"Google?" Sae rubbed her temples. "All these other things you and the other Persona users fought were mythological or whatever else. He probably is too." Then, as Morgana stared at her, "Just because I can't turn into a van doesn't mean that I can't put two and two together or profile a suspect."

It wasn't a bad idea. But the idea that Sae might think she deserved this when other, greater villains got off with so much less, it offended him as a matter of justice even more than it did as the man who loved her. "We'll have a look on my laptop. Enjoy your fish."

"You know that you don't deserve this, right?" Akira asked when they were safely back in the bedroom. "I meant what I said. You were a jerk, to be blunt, but I spent nearly a year contending with real evil." He took her hands. "And that's before we get into what you've done since, Ms. 'I'm-going-to-take-down-a-crime-boss.'"

"I...I don't want to lose my mind. Or break my neck. I want to free Sato and take you out to dinner. As for what I deserve, well, I imagine I deserve what every prosecutor who learned to play the game without breaking the rules deserves." She smiled a little. "Maybe you're my reward and my punishment. Protecting me from a world I don't belong in and where I can't protect myself." She disentangled one hand to stroke his chest, following the lines of his scars even through his shirt. "And reminding me of what the system can do."

Akira swallowed the lump in his throat. "Just remember that you're more than her." He should have said more, but he didn't know what. Maybe the option of chasing down Shadows to deal with psychological problems had made him lazy. Another reason he shouldn't bring Mementos back. "Let's see if we can Google ourselves a god."

Yellow rags. Mask. Supernatural. His brow furrowed. That was probably going to get him two million results for cheap costumes. His gaze wandered to the knife on the floor, still where Sae had left it next to the model gun. It had spoken to him of someone. He Who Must Not Be Named.

And they are the thing was, staring back at him with his slits for eyes. A crude thick-line drawing from an early twentieth century book, but undeniably the same entity. "Hastur," he read. "Sometimes called the King in Yellow. Associated with shepherds—shepherds, what the hell do shepherds have to do with anything?—but also nihilism and corruption. He makes bargains with unsuspecting magicians with his Unspeakable Oath. While the details differ and often involve the magician getting his supposed heart's desire, the deal always ends with the magician thoroughly corrupted and indistinguishable from Hastur himself."

Sae put her hands on Akira's shoulders. "That would explain why he wants you to take a deal. And all that talk about power being the only thing that matters."

"Who better to corrupt than a Wild Card?" Lavenza had told him they were avatars of hope, just the opposite of what Leviathan and Hastur had been going on about. "He woke Leviathan up, so if we kick him in the teeth, what do you want to bet that she goes back to what she was before and leaves you alone?" And kicking gods in the teeth was something he had been very good at. "And it has the journals. So, same deal as before: get the journals and we win."

"We can hope. He said he was waiting for us in Inaba. I suppose we have no choice. I wonder what kind of nightmare world this Midnight Channel was?"

Another nightmare world. More summoning Satanel and facing the monsters of the collective unconscious that no ordinary human should have to see, let alone fight. He turned in his chair to look at Sae. "If you want to get as far away from this as possible, I don't blame you. I hear Tahiti is lovely this time of year." He touched his breast pocket. "Maybe, maybe as long as I have this, I'll be okay. You don't have to risk yourself to keep me in line."

"No, I want to see this through." She exhaled. "Leviathan can be in my head in Tokyo just as easily as Inaba, and I'd just be proving her right about me." She ruffled his hair. "Someone has to keep you from being too noble for your own good, Joker."

"It's part of my charm." Inside, though, his heart was pounding. He was walking into hell again, just as surely as when he had plumbed the depths of Mementos. This time, he had no Velvet Room, even fewer allies, and he'd have to come up with a new way to get equipment in a small town in the middle of nowhere. And she wanted to plunge into the abyss? "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She brushed her lips against him. "After all, we're still Phantom Thieves. Partners?"

"Always." You made a very serious mistake, Hastur. You made this a fight. Ask Leviathan what I can do in a fight. Your days are numbered. What do you have to say to that?

Nine hours earlier…

It was one minute after midnight and Ai Kinoka felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on. Pain pressed behind her eyes. Stress, probably. Someday, someone was going to give Kirijo a well-deserved prison sentence, and Ai hoped it was her. Thinking that just because she was wealthy and connected, she could negotiate a plea bargain for a man so obviously guilty that a first-year law student could have gotten a conviction.

You learned to pick your battles as a prosecutor, to pursue those cases where the evidence was so solid that even the lay judges could swayed. And, if the case was important enough and you were sure enough that you were right, you made sure the police found the evidence and didn't ask questions about how they got the confession. The law, after all, was only a tool, and usually a tool of the powerful to protect themselves, with justice having precious little to do with it. Justice required knowing how to beat them at their own game and when to discard laws and procedures. And then, once in a lifetime, if you were among the best of the best—and Ai was—a case like Sato's presented itself. A case so sensational that the woman who won it would have real power. She could start imposing her justice on the world because she was strong enough. Be an example to other little girls who wanted to be something more than a wife and mother. And no head of a desiccated corporation was going to stop her.

Neither, she thought, with a twinge of regret, was Niijima. The boy must have rotted her brain. Someday, she was going to take time to look through those old files—probably redacted to hell and back—and piece together what really happened when you stripped away all the rumors about changing hearts. And possibly be standing by with tissues and a good bottle of sake when the affair crashed and burned.

The pain grew sharper. Ai blinked and shook her head. Had the table moved when she wasn't looking? And why did the air stink of piss and shit? But the other party guests clinked their glasses and continued talking as if nothing had happened. That was it, as soon as this was over, she was taking a nice, long vacation somewhere tropical.

That was when she saw the shoes. Purple high heels discarded on the balcony as if someone had kicked them off in a great hurry. She picked one up. Not a hallucination, then. She cleared her throat until the woman nearest her broke off her conversation. "Excuse me, do you know who left these here?"

"No idea." The woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's hardly the strangest thing I've seen at a Kirijo party."

Ah, yes. There'd always been rumors about the Kirijos being neck-deep in weird things. No wonder Niijima and Kurusu had gotten involved.

Niijima...Niijima had been wearing purple. But Niijima had gotten so good at stretching her paycheck after her father died that it had been an office joke. No way she would leave her shoes lying around. Then again, why would anyone leave their shoes in the middle of a black-tie party? And why was she the only one who seemed to notice that smell?

She didn't see Niijima for the rest of the night, but she did see Kirijo. A few strands had escaped her perfect coiffure and her face was flushed from some exertion, but her smile never faltered, even if the man on her arm kept whispering to her in a low voice. Ai squared her shoulders and marched forward. "Ms. Kirijo," she said with her best cocktail party smiled. "I apologize for earlier. Justice must be done, you understand?"

"Justice is a complicated thing, Ms. Kinoka. As I'm sure you know."

"Sometimes." Ai kept her voice as bland as possible and held up the shoes. "Do you have any idea why someone would leave these on the balcony?"

There. Just for the smallest fraction of a moment, Kirijos eyes widened. "Sometimes my guests overindulge. I'll see that these are returned." She all but snatched them from Ai's hand.

That might have been the end of it, if she hadn't had another flash of pain and decided to stop by the all-night pharmacy for a bottle of aspirin on her way back to the hotel. Police milled about, talking in low voices. Ai slowed her walk. Port Island was a strange town, and it had had an exciting few days, but it wasn't her jurisdiction. She had enough to worry about and she got back to Tokyo. Just keep walking…

"...weird Kirijo shit," said one of the officers.

Ai stopped. "What's going on?" She fished her badge from her purse. "Can I assist you, officers?"

The younger snapped to attention. "Ah, no ma'am. We have everything in hand, ma'am. Just responding to a medical emergency, ma'am."

"Then where's the ambulance? "

"Don't worry about it. This is way out of your jurisdiction, prosecutor."

Anger burned under her skin. Someday, someday they would answer to her. "You know, law enforcement is a pretty small world. Your chief and I have to attend a lot of the same seminars. I could put in a good word for you. Get you off dirty work duty. Something with a chance for an actual promotion?"

They looked at each other. "Been covering for that bitch ever since I started," said the younger. "You think you can get me into property crimes? Something with absolutely no weird stuff like something out of a fucking horror movie?"

"I can," she lied. "Why don't you tell me about this 'horror movie stuff?'"

"We got called for cleanup duty in the antiques store. Broken glass everywhere. At first, we thought it was a robbery. But nothing seemed like it had been taken. And then they bring the body of the doctor who runs the place out. I saw her just as they were put in there in the endurance. It was like someone had sucked out her brain."

"You mean a coma?"

"I've seen those." He shuddered. "It was like she was dead and not dead at the same time. I heard you guys had to deal with something like that a few years back, but I just want to deal with nice normal stuff."

"This was normal," said the other officer with more vehemence than was strictly necessary. "Everybody knows the doctor was in debt up to her eyeballs to Okaba. Probably ordered a hit on her before he died."

"Then why wasn't it all nice and bloody?"

"Shut up!"

First the shoes, now this. If she didn't know better, she would start thinking that there was something to these rumors of supernatural horrors. Niijima would have loved a case like this. Niijima who had been the investigator the last time people dropped into comas or worse for no reason. Who was so sure there was another Akechi. Who had worn purple heels tonight.

There's no such thing as ghosts. But if there was...something out there that could drive people to murder or stupors, well that was a complication. Niijima had once compared the justice system to a casino—all that time chasing down Okaba, which was probably something else warranted investigation—but the truth was that it was more like a game of shogi. A good lawyer had backup plans on top of backup plans. If she somehow lost this case, she'd be the one handling property crimes for the rest of her life, unless she caught an even bigger fish. Or unless she found out whatever the hell Niijima was looking for and turned it to her advantage. Maybe it was time to take that vacation a little early.

"All right Niijima," she whispered. "Let's do this fair and square. May the best woman win."