11

They woke up once they realized they were following a new Shadow – one that kept a consistent reading, leading them south, back towards the city. "It's large," was the first thing Fuuka was able to discern, and later, "It's moving very fast." Typically Akihiko was a law-abiding driver, but today he sped.

Towards late afternoon, as they were closing in on the Shadow, Mitsuru's employees began to report to her, and she repeated their information to the others, one ear still to her cell phone. "No further Shadow activity, but people are panicking. A possible bomber was just found at Paulownia."

"Shit," Junpei said under his breath. "I don't care what she says, Chidori is going home."

"It's turned west," Fuuka said from the front passenger seat.

"Is it making for the city?" Ken asked.

"We aren't going to let it get there," Junpei shot back.

"Please, be quiet." Mitsuru covered her right ear, pressing her cheek against her phone, listening. "Dr. Nakano, what are you – ?" And she cried out, dropping the phone as it suddenly roared into speaker mode.

"Didn't you hear me, Ms. Kirijo?," a man's voice said. "I'm telling you, a Shadow attack is coming tonight, in an old man's apartment above a leather goods store. Don't you have your people on this? Don't you care?"

"Dr. Nakano?" Mitsuru hesitated before snatching the phone back up. "Nakano, what's happened?"

"Don't worry about Nakano," the voice said. "Let Nakano trot off to hell. He's not going to be much use to you. None of the elygologists are going to be any use if you refuse to look around and see the Shadows are everywhere – they're attacking, and you are on a picnic with a school club."

"Senpai, what's – " Yukari started.

"Who are you?" Mitsuru demanded of her cell phone.

"No one you haven't heard before. Old friends, me and...well. Everyone. How are you doing, Fuuka-chan? Tracked down that Shadow? Or is your heart still not in it?"

Fuuka shrieked with pain, holding her hands to her head, eyes squeezed shut. With an abruptness that sent them rocking in their seats, Akihiko yanked the van off the road, grinding into the shoulder. He reached over, grabbing Fuuka's arm.

"How sweet. Giving up the chase because someone's hurt. That's a first for you people, isn't it? Usually you're more than willing to leave a comrade in his own blood, just as long as you finish a mission."

"It's – " Fuuka panted.

"– the Shadow, isn't it?" Yukari leaned forward, towards the phone, as if preparing to attack it. "Why don't you come out and face us?"

"You won't like my face," the voice said.

"I sure as hell don't like your voice!" from Junpei.

"And if you're so fired to protect your darling Chidori, what are you doing alongside these bastards?"

"What?"

"Surely you remember all the times they attacked her, hurt her badly? Imprisoned her for weeks, held her against her will. And in the end, only a trick of fate saved them from killing her outright. I suppose you can thank Takaya from sparing them that."

"That's – that's bullshit – "

"You will be silent," Aigis said, focused on the phone, gun raised. "You will stop taunting us and fight."

There was a pause before the Shadow spoke again. "You ruined her life, you know." Aigis didn't react visibly, but her tense silence was an answer by itself. "Of all the people you could have chosen, you picked an innocent child to bear Thanatos. If you'd only been a bit stronger, you could have killed him and saved her from that, saved her from whoring herself to Death. She's a pretty slave to him, but I imagine she would have been prettier if she'd lived."

It was fairly impossible to make out who was swearing, or what exactly they were saying.

"Still," the voice went on, "at least it was her that went, right? It's so much quieter with her gone. And you no longer have to put up with her being so goddamn good at everything. Admit it! It'll feel good."

"Shut the hell up," from Shinjiro, almost more matter-of-fact than furious.

"You'd know something about keeping quiet, wouldn't you?" The Shadow laughed. "What I love is the way you rushed up on the roof in this big dramatic moment, and she didn't even bother telling you she was dying. She knew what was happening, and she just let you talk. Sounds familiar, right? Leading someone on to say all those sweet things without letting them know you're planning to die? I mean, anything goes, just so long as you feel good before you buy it.

"Oh damn," the voice went on before anyone could speak, "and don't even get me started on those Keys."

"Drive, senpai," Fuuka said abruptly, eyes closed with pain, jaw tight. "We're going to catch him."

"Why don't you?" the Shadow said. "I won't distract you." A pause. "His driving already sucks. You should probably call Nakano too, he's wondering why you cut him off."

The voice fell silent then – which proved somehow worse. Junpei and Yukari threw out some shots, as if they could provoke the Shadow back into communication, but no answer came. Fuuka gripped her armrests, eyes squeezed with concentration.

"He's here," she said as they drove along a stretch of forest, brittle and brown. "Senpai, he's here." Akihiko pulled onto the shoulder and stopped the car. They hardly took the time to look around before they got out, nor did they bother to hide their weapons from any passing cars.

"Further in." Fuuka's eyes were half-closed, head cocked to the side. "He's in the forest."

"Is he similar to Oneiroi?" Mitsuru asked. "Is he going to – " she glanced at Ken " – manipulate our thoughts?"

"I don't know yet. I can't even hear his name clearly."

Mitsuru set her shoulders. "We don't know what to expect, but I know I can rely on you all. The Shadow is powerful, and it seems to have – deep knowledge of all of us. Even of – " She collected herself, nodded to Akihiko and Shinjiro, then faced forward. "I once told Arisato that insulting her was the same as insulting me." She thrust her foil forward. "I will not tolerate mockery."

It was the only impressive part of their forward march. Two steps into the forest saw them struggling with underbrush and trailing branches. Even in winter, light barely fell under the tree cover, only stippling the darkness. "Keep going forward," Fuuka said under her breath, still listening to Juno. "He isn't far. And he isn't moving."

"Waiting for us." Akihiko took point, as much as that was possible, holding branches out of the others' way.

"You sound happy, Akihiko-san," Ken said.

"I don't like chasing down an enemy," Akihiko said. "I like one that'll stand and fight."

"What's that?"

Everyone braced at Yukari's words, then looked forward, where a Shadow might be. Then realized she was looking at the underbrush.

"It's some trash," Junpei said as Aigis bent to pick up the piece of paper.

She turned it over in her left hand, the right still cocking her gun. "It's a Key."

"What?" Junpei sidestepped to see, and in a moment, they'd crowded in as closely as they could. It was a picture of one of the Keys that had lead to the Seal, mostly just its outline, rendered in a typewriter's font. It was the shape they all remembered from the Abyss of Time.

"There're more," Ken said, gesturing forward. It took them a moment to distinguish the papers from the patches of light.

Yukari tightened her jaw and strode over to the nearest, swiping it up. At first, they didn't recognize what it was (a ring? a halo?) until Aigis took it and handed it quickly back to Yukari. "The coliseum."

They were standing in a ring now, and they studied each other's faces. Ken's voice was surprisingly unperturbed, though his hand was tight on his spear. "The Shadow's focused on that fight."

"Not your proudest moment, was it?" a voice drifted through the branches. "Though it was probably very cathartic. All you need is a little prompting and you're at each others' throats." Junpei pivoted, but it was Yukari who put her hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. Her mouth was tight, but she gave a small head-shake. "Right, right," the voice said, as if someone had spoken. "Stop thinking all those damning thoughts. You're only feeding that monster she has to fight, you know. You just aren't any help to her."

"This way," Fuuka said, walking to their left. The others quickly overtook her, not answering the Shadow but searching the half-light for a sign of him. More sheaves of paper crackled under their feet, folding up and showing their typewritten pictures – the Key, the coliseum, and several times the outline of Tartarus and the simple lines of a cross.

It was hard to hear at first, but there was a steady rhythm under the harsh shuffling of underbrush. Mitsuru paused midstep when she distinguished it, then picked up the pace. Light glowed ahead – a clearing.

The meadow was overgrown, riddled with dead weeds. There was a folding chair and a card table in the middle. A small man sat, clicking away at a typewriter, his narrow back curved, small round sunglasses slipping off his nose. His hair was thinning, pulled into a blue-black ponytail. The typewriter dinged, and he ripped out a sheaf of paper, throwing it over his shoulder. A new sheaf had materialized in the typewriter.

He didn't look up at first as they walked into the light, fanning out, but he did stop typing. He reached down into the grass and drew up a – a plate? No, it was a mask, held back with cheap elastic. He snapped it behind his ears and finally turned to look at them.

"Stop right now," Yukari said, after her eyes had widened, then she'd sighed and frowned. "Don't play games with us."

"I like games," the Shadow said, leaning his cheek into his hand. He was wearing a shiny plastic mask molded to look like Akihiko's face – Akihiko's eighteen-year-old face, bandage and all. "And you've been playing with me for so long."

"So long is right." Junpei lifted his katana. "Can we cut this existentialist crap and get to the fight?"

Mitsuru gestured Ken and Aigis to her left, spreading them out. Then she squared herself to the Shadow, sword point forward. "If you're so inclined to talk, what is your purpose here?"

"What is your purpose, constantly scratching and rescratching the same old thoughts?" The Shadow reached down into the grass and pulled up another mask, setting it on his knees. It was Mitsuru's face. "It's, like, masochistic, the way you keep going over what you would've done different."

Ken had narrowed his eyes. He'd been standing abreast of Shinjiro, but he took a step closer to the Shadow. Again, his voice was so calm that Fuuka glanced over. "You're talking about our fight, aren't you?"

"Or when she died, one's as good as the other. Or when you got your senpai shot twice in the chest. Or when he killed your mother. Or when Junpei didn't study for his literature exam and bombed the semester." The Shadow shrugged. "Whatever you want to talk about is fine with me, just so long as we talk."

"Who are you?" Mitsuru demanded.

The Shadow regarded her – they had to assume this, as the Akihiko-mask didn't have eyeholes. Then he tipped the Mitsuru-mask up and touched it to his plastic lips before tossing it away.

Akihiko was an abrupt movement on Mitsuru's right, and she only looked over for a second. Then the Shadow had discarded Akihiko's face and put on Aigis'. He leaned back against his chair and stroked the mask's molded cheeks, tracing non-existent tear trails. Metal gears whirred softly as Aigis lifted her gun, sighting.

"My name is Momos," the Shadow said. "I'm just another of the inevitable brethren. You can kill this meat sack – " he jerked his arm upwards across his torso "– but you can't stop me. Not until time stops. Whatever." Swinging to his feet, he pushed Aigis' mask off his face and replaced it with Shinjiro's. "You want to fight?"

"Yes," Ken said, not so firmly.

"So let's fight." Nobody moved. Momos sighed, put on Yukari's face, and made a half-hearted gesture towards himself. "Am I making this difficult?" Mitsuru set herself, balancing her weight, but she didn't move forward. She shot an uncertain look to Akihiko. Momos put on Junpei's face with its wide plastic grin. "Will this help? So... January 2010, I understand, you all had a lot on your minds. You were thinking about the world ending. You were wondering what it'd feel like when Nyx creamed you. I can understand a bit of selfishness there, some self-absorption. But what about afterwards, kids? Well, you lost your memories. Your Persona memories. That explains why some of you hardly exchanged a nod when you passed each other in the hallway. Fair enough.

"But I seem to recall none of you forgot about your angel BFF, right? Your leader? So tell me how none of you noticed she was, you know, dying for a month? Like, getting paler, and weaker, and couldn't keep her head together sometimes? You were the best." And he threw an arm towards Aigis. "On the roof, what the hell was all that? You were rhapsodizing at her? You still had your memories. You were supposed to protect her. Did it never occur to you to call the damn hospital? You see your darling pet dying by inches and you just pull up a chair to watch? Holy shit. With friends like you, who needs Erebus?"

Even as Mitsuru took the next step forward – which was enough to propel them all – Momos had ripped apart, the small form splitting into a thick, seven-headed snake, each head bearing twisted, open-mouthed parodies of the masks.

Ken did not rush into the attack – as he stepped forward, his head pounded, jerking his equilibrium to the left, toppling him to one knee. His vision rocked in and out, and when it cleared, he saw the serpent wrenching itself around, spines arching, masks tipped back to the sky. Mitsuru backed away, gripping her sword arm, her foil gleaming red, red splattered over her hand guard. One of Momos' heads – he couldn't see which – darted forward, was suddenly met by both Caesar and Trismegisthus.

Dammit, stop watching – C'mon, what's wrong with you? Bracing his spear in the grass, Ken shoved himself upright, squeezing his eyes shut against the swell of pain through his head. You're such an idiot, always slowing the others down. Why did they even let you join –

He shook his head, quickly, trying to clear it. His vision went black for a second.

And you never wanted to save the world. The only reason you signed on was to get revenge.

He tried to stand, his muscles shivering, fluid, rattled with adrenaline.

You started this. If you hadn't tried to kill him, if everyone had stayed together, you could've concentrated on destroying Strega. If you'd destroyed Strega, Nyx wouldn't have descended so soon, you would've had so much more time prepare, to understand, and you wouldn't have killed her –

"Ken-kun!" Fuuka's voice. "Watch out!"

He fell into a dodge and roll, and when he pushed himself onto his knees, fighting nausea, Vercingetorix had swerved in front of him, serrated blades flickering. One of Momos' heads flinched back, and at the other side of clearing, another head screamed, the sound louder than Aigis' gunfire.

Moving as quickly as he could, so quickly his body wouldn't be able to register the pain, Ken jumped to his feet. And pitched forward, spear dropping, hands down in the grass. His stomach jerked up, vomit slopping out of his mouth. He could hear the battle, he could hear Shinjiro shout his name, but mostly he heard the rasp of blades.

If you were going to do anything on October Fourth, you should have just killed yourself. She never relied on you. All you did was add to her grief.

He staggered back on his hands and knees, wiping his mouth on his arm, forcing his eyes open. Shinjiro stood between him and the Shadow, back to him, and beyond he could hear Akihiko shouting to Fuuka. Then Fuuka's voice, amplified by Juno: "He's attacking Ken! He's blocking him from his Persona!"

If you couldn't even help her, what are you doing here? Nothing you do can make up for –

Something pulled up on his shoulders, his vision going gray – Akihiko lifting him. "C'mon, Ken, lean on me. Just focus!"

Shinjiro's voice: "Get back in the fight, Aki! They can't hold off that thing forever!" The metal was rasping louder through Ken's thoughts.

"It's afraid of Ken." Fuuka's voice. "He's the only one it's trying to stop. Ken-kun, can you hear me?"

"C'mon, Ken!" That was Junpei, much farther off. "Give this bastard a taste of Kala-Nemi!" Only there was a large crash then, something being walloped, so it sounded like a taste of calamari.

Ken hiccupped – laughed – felt Akihiko's hand on his shoulder – saw the grass, Shinjiro, the snakes writhing beyond – and heard nothing but the spinning of Kala-Nemi's steel rings.

"Persona!"

Shinjiro lunged out of Kala-Nemi's path, the Persona gaining speed, lightning twisting around her, launching a Ziodyne into Momos. The serpent cringed, screeching with pain, then struck. Athena blocked the hit, giving Ken time to evoke again. Akihiko clapped Ken's shoulder as Kala-Nemi ripped into Momos. Then they were running to the edge of the trees, trying to escape as the seven-times-beheaded serpent thrashed, its open necks spitting black blood.

Then the mess shuddered – and was just a small, beheaded man – and vanished.

Not only do I buy Koromaru and me dinner, I get a cup of butter pecan ice cream for myself. After the fight with Geras, even small comforts are worth it.

I'm edgy, sitting on this park bench at Port Island Station – I hung out here sometimes, so there's a chance I'll be recognized, and it's not the safest area after sunset – but this is where Igor dropped me off. He and Elizabeth didn't give me any clues who or where the next ker would be, only that we were now four down, six to go. Discord, Dreams, Age and Blame have all been dealt with.

Which is their way of telling me that Ken and Kala-Nemi have been doing just as much damage as me.

I stare at my bento and, hungry as I am, am too thoughtful to decide what to eat first. How long did it take for SEES to figure things out? Is Mitsuru leading them? Are they all together? Where – how – did they find the other keres? Do they miss me?

Never mind that, Minako. I nab a carrot strip and start chomping. Koromaru's at my feet. We hit the first convenience store we found, and I couldn't find any small bags of dog food, and I wasn't shelling out money for hamburger, so he's dining on a package of assorted lunch meats.

Koromaru lifts his head suddenly, growing rigid. It's full night now, the shops closed. The theater's still open, people lingering in front. Some guys are hanging by the train station. I tense up, then check myself – chances are prime none of them are Shinjiro.

Wait – hold on. One guy is slouching towards my park bench. I glance to my right – there's a streetlight, that's helpful. But it's only eight or so, it's really too early for crime, and the people at the theater can see us –

"I thought Cerberus had three heads and a snake on his ass."

Oh.

"You're mixing up your myths," I say (Koromaru tentatively lowers his hackles). "I'm Death, not Hades."

Harris pulls to a stop about a dozen feet off, downwind. He's wearing the same clothes he had earlier, and there's a dimly red cigarette between his teeth. "You've done your dirty work again, haven't you?"

I make a show of studying my bento (what fascinating rice) as I figure out how to take this. The fortune lady could somehow see into my future and she was harmless, but then she was often unsure of herself. Can Harris see part of my past? Is he talking about the keres?

"Scootch over, Death."

My head snaps up – I was so intent on the bento I'm not eating that I didn't notice him saunter over. Now he plunks himself down next to me. Not touching, though he hoists both elbows over the bench's back, one hand almost brushing my shoulder.

"You eating that shrimp?"

I pop it into my mouth and chew until I have something to say. "You're blaming me for every death in the world?"

He's still eyeing my bento, removing his cigarette and puffing a long flume of smoke. "You ever wanted to kill someone?"

"What?"

He shrugs. "There ain't much difference between wanting to kill someone and killing them. But I didn't mean that when I said 'dirty work'."

"Then I don't want to know what you did mean."

He has an uneven, raspy laugh, like the laugh is a ball of phlegm bouncing around his throat. He gestures his cigarette downwards. "That's a good dog you got. He helping you?"

"Helping me what?"

"You don't have to be gifted to see the darkness in this world. I don't know if you're more like the darkness than not, but I know you're fighting it."

"I'm not dark."

"You ever have dark thoughts?"

I pick around my bento, coming up with another shrimp.

He laughs. "In the old days, they talked about dancing hand in hand with Death, or beating him in a game of chess. You can't blame me for having a bit of fun."

"Sure I can. So this darkness I'm supposedly fighting. What do you know about it?"

"It's a bit like yourself." He leans over to look at me. "I'd say you were running after your reflection."

Thanatos is a ker, like the ones I'm fighting. That much makes sense. "How do you come up with this? I mean, what drugs do you take?"

Not his brand of humor. He looks away, muttering something four-lettered under his breath. "I know Death when I see him."

"I'm not – "

Harris pulls himself to his feet, stalking away, movements unusually sharp. "You and he are one flesh. You kissed him full on the mouth. You couldn't support his weight and live."

I clap the bento against the bench and stand. "Death, if you'd like to know, was okay with being just friends." I kissed him on the forehead, once, because it was December 31 and we both were miserable and had to be brave, and – why the hell do I need to tell Harris any of that? He's Harris, he doesn't know me, it doesn't matter.

Dammit, don't tell me I'm – I'm – What am I trying to prove?

An ugly fear coils in my stomach. I remember it from years ago, when I first learned what Ryoji was, and that I had been his vessel. These things come back, even when I've forgiven Aigis and Ryoji for what happened and thought I'd come to terms.

I let go of a heavy breath. "All right, Harris. I'm Death."

He laughs. "You think being brave enough to say it makes a difference? Shit." He shakes his head and slouches off. "I think there're some shades of darkness at Apple Bower. Give it a look-see. I know you like to keep busy."

"...Apple? Why am I not surpri – hey, wait!" He doesn't wait. I can't even find him in the shadows around the station. Only force of will stops me from hollering What the hell is Apple Bower? across the night. Koromaru stares off after him, then looks at me.

"I don't understand him either." I draw a deep breath.