A/N: Slightly belated happy new year. With this update comes some minor revisions to the Prologue and first three Chapters – nothing major, just cleaning up some phrasings and paragraphings to make it easier to read. Possibly expect other similar updates, depending on how I feel.

[To all reviewers who posed a question: the answer is no. Some of this is addressed in the chapter.]

"Urgh."

My mind was slowly getting clearer. It felt like I'd been asleep for months.

Wait a minute. I can actually feel things? I'm still breathing, I still have a heartbeat, and my brain is still ticking over all its natural functions?

I'm not dead! It's a miracle!

No, not a miracle. You just owe me. Again.

Right. I'm not really sure why I got my hopes up that it would be anything else. Still, I suppose I owe you a thanks.

Tell me about it. Any idiot can stick together lumps of meat, but do you know how much effort it takes to recreate lost blood? I mean, once you lose it and it starts seeping into the carpets and upholstery, there's no way getting it back. Blood is a bloody mess.

Why are you bothering to make this point? I'd have assumed that you'd have enjoyed seeing me bleed all over the place.

Oh, take my word for it – I most certainly did. Still, I feel that you should try understand what exactly happened to you after getting shot. Look down, and see where your bullet scar is.

I'm not sure why you're making this point, but I'll bite…

…Shit.

There, on my chest, was a small, round, pinkish scar, about the size of a bullet, right where my heart was.

Yep. You, personally, have near enough makes no difference five litres of blood in your body. This is also about the amount that your heart pumps per minute. In other words, you lost about half of your blood before I made the bleeding stop.

…What. I mean… is that even survivable?

Probably not, but you're alive now, aren't you? What's done is done, and you shouldn't dwell on the how or why or the notions of possibility. Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure that the bullet wound you suffered was almost impossible.

What do you mean by that? Fatalistic as it may sound, hitting someone in the heart doesn't exactly defy probability.

Yes, but detaching your aorta with a bullet probably does.

…What. That's the big artery that comes out of my heart, right?

Yep. Again, that's something which probably isn't feasible, but it happened. Besides, when I was done with it, it was good as new again. Almost. It should be fine, but if your blood pressure gets too high, it will probably explode, you'll suffer massive internal haemorrhages, and you'll probably die. Fun.

…Can't you say something reassuring for once?

I could, but then again, I could not.

Great. Just great.

Hey, I thought of something reassuring. You've been unconscious for a week.

…Why do I even bother? And why didn't you point this out earlier?

You'd have found out by yourself in due time, probably when some doctor-type person realises you've finally started kicking again. Falling unconscious is a symptom of haemorrhagic shock, may I remind you.

Yes, but, I don't know, couldn't you have revived me after you put all my blood back in or something? I'd have preferred to not lose a week.

No. Didn't you hear me earlier? Replacing lost blood is hard. Since all of it that was covering the walls was completely lost, I had to create it from scratch, and anyone should be able to tell that creating something from nothing violates most laws of science and pseudoscience. I only bothered make enough so that you wouldn't conk out before you got a couple of transfusions.

What? That feels like a giant cop-out. What exactly makes blood difficult to create?

Logistics.

…Really.

Eh. As explanations go, it's close enough. And before you complain that it isn't a satisfactory answer, it's the only answer that you're going to get.

And yet again, I am left wondering why I even bother.

A sort of silence fell. Of course, as all the preceding conversation had been in my head, the room had been silent anyway, but that was besides the point. The silence floating around inside of my head was still kind of unsettling, in its own, odd way.

…

Who do you think it was?

Are you talking to me again?

I don't have any other voices in my head, do I? Anyway, somebody hates me enough to want me dead. Who do you think it was?

Why are you even asking me this? I fail to see the point in this exercise.

I just wanted some second thoughts. Personally, I'm leaning on those girls who tried to kidnap Akihiko. Given how crazy-obsessive they seemed, I wouldn't be particularly surprised. And fire was involved.

Those things are all true, indeed. However, there is one glaring issue with this hypothesis. The incident occurred on the same day as you getting shot. Though Blondie and Smarts may have had additional backup, it seems unlikely to me that they found out all those facts about your identity, located your address, and managed to travel there all in the space of around six hours. I mean, those girls probably do hate you enough that once they figure out you're still alive, another couple of bullets will end up flying towards your heart, but this time? I doubt it.

Wait. If it wasn't them, who else could it have been?

Well, given how long grudges can last, and how many things you set on fire before you came to this city, I wouldn't be excessively surprised if it turned out to be someone that neither of us remember. Other options include one of those people from that back alley, that transfer student who always hung out in the home economics room before you burnt it down, someone all too attached to science who thought you were involved in that fire but covered up your own tracks all too well, or a bin man.

Basically, there are plenty enough people who have reason to hate you.

…Great. My life is an utter mess.

With that sombre thought, a doctor finally realised I was awake.

Once they were satisfied that I was completely functional, the hospital discharged me the next day. I was more than prepared to go back to the dorm by myself and mope about how many people hated me, when I was intercepted in the lobby.

"'Sup, dude!"

"…Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Junpei waved it off. "Eh, someone needed to take the time off to make sure you were fine. Come on. I'll treat you to a bowl of ramen. You were the one who we found lying in a pool of his own blood, after all."

"Please don't remind me."

"In that case, when you get back to the dorm, just ignore all the new rugs. They'll be gone in a few days – you'll hardly notice them, and they're not covering anything suspicious at all. Now, how about that ramen?"

Severe blood loss or not, I've never been one to turn down free food. Hence, about twenty minutes later, we were waiting outside of the ramen place (there was a queue).

The conversation on the way there was relaxing, if not exceptionally deep. "How's your progress on your 'ultimate plan' to get closer to Fuuka?"

Junpei scratched his head. "Honestly? It's going okay, but she was really worried about you. In fact, she was probably the most worried. Hell, she probably would have given twice the amount of blood she did, if it was actually safe."

That was enough to cause a slight double-take. "She gave blood?"

He gave a small shrug. "The hospital had a shortage of O-negative, or something like that, and Fuuka was the only person we could find with the right type. Eventually they dug up some more, but she kinda saved your ass."

"I'll need to thank her for that."

Now, the conversation probably could have survived for a while longer after this point, had not a middle-aged, slightly fat salaryman in a faded suit staggered out of the restaurant, reeking of cheap booze, and spontaneously vomited on the ground right in front of us. "What're you looking at?" he glared at us, before throwing up again.

Naturally, neither of us were particularly pleased by this turn of events. "Evidently, I'm looking at someone pathetic. It's still broad daylight, you drunken slob."

The alcoholic seemed to take offence to this, as, after pausing to throw up again, he began lumbering towards us. Of course, it would have been simple enough to move around him, when Junpei suddenly decided that the best course of action was to kick him in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground, more vomit dribbling down his chin as he did.

A tense silence hung in the air.

"Junpei? Are you feeling alright?"

For a moment, all he did was stare a downright lethal look into the man on the floor. He did eventually break out of it, but his ensuing comment wasn't exactly the most reassuring. "Come on. We don't have to deal with this bastard. If he goes and gets hit by a car, so much for the better."

"…Alright." Yes, his sudden change in mood was concerning, but trying to address the issue right then? I'd probably just get punched in the face.

The mood was still sour as our food arrived. Junpei was still seething, and he hadn't said a word since entering the restaurant. Half a bowl of ramen's worth of uncomfortable silence later, I hoped an unempty stomach would be enough to settle him, and bit the bullet. "So I take it you have a problem with drunks." It didn't need to be a question.

Junpei gave a cynical chuckle. "You could say that."

"Why?"

He didn't reply. The silence returned.

…

The silence continued.

…

"What were your parents like?"

Mid-noodle, I froze.

"Hey, if it's too uncomfortable, you don't have to talk about it. Just pretend I didn't say anything."

Languidly, I finished up my mouthful of noodles, and shook my head. "Don't worry." Yes, it was an awkward thing to talk about, and not just because, you know, they were dead – but at the very least, Junpei had decided to regain his powers of speech. "It's odd to explain to people, but I don't remember them."

Junpei's eyes almost flashed open in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, I put my elbows on the table and started cradling my head. "My parents are dead. I'm pretty sure you know that much." Junpei gave a tentative nod. "Well, they died in a car crash. I was in that car when it crashed."

Junpei shifted around nervously, clearly not having anticipated dredging up this sort of stuff. "Sorry. I can't imagine what it was like."

"Neither can I."

"Wait, what?"

"The first thing I remember clearly is waking up in a hospital bed the morning after the crash. Everything before that? A giant blur. Nothing's clear. I remember the crash happened, but I'm pretty sure it messed up my head somehow, because I don't recall what happened.

"Similarly, while I remember having parents, and I remember remembering things about them, I can't actually remember anything about them. Faces, hair colour, personality – nothing."

Another silence.

"What brought this on?"

It was Junpei's turn to pause mid-bite. He thought over his word choice for several seconds. "Simply put, my dad was a pile of shit."

"He 'was'."

Junpei let out a long, pent-up sigh. "Ages ago, he wasn't so bad. He wasn't a good father, but at least he was semi-passable. Then… I don't know. He just started drinking, day in, day out. He didn't even bother work anymore. All he did was sit in the house and drink and drink, and throw up and drink some more. It wasn't a surprise when mom left."

"You don't have to continue."

He shook his head. "There's not much else to say. Eventually, he just started wasting away. Dad was always a 'tough love' kind of person, but in the end, I couldn't even feel it. God knows if he's even still alive."

The silence returned. The atmosphere was bordering on choking.

Come on. Even you have to admit that sitting here, doing nothing but feeling sorry for yourselves isn't going to do anything.

Even if that's true – which, to be fair, it probably is – what do you want me to do about it? Do something stupid and stilted, just in the vain hope that it'll make things better?

Yes.

…

…Okay, fine. I'll do this to try lighten the mood, even if I'm sacrificing most of my self-respect to do so.

I picked up my chopsticks, scooped up a large glob of ramen, and splapped it onto my face.

Junpei blinked. "Seriously, Minato, what are you doing?"

In reply, I stuffed another pile of noodles into my mouth. "I am Cthulhu, great Lord of the Deep! Bleargh!" (It may have only sounded like a pile of muffles. Or someone being wrapped in several heavy winter blankets and drowned in thick vegetable soup.)

Silence again.

Then Junpei sort-of collapsed into the table, face scattering soy sauce and other condiments, guffawing as he did so. "Dude, that was pathetic."

I smiled, scraping my noodles back into the bowl. "Hey, we're two teenage boys, and here we are, talking about parental issues. Honestly? So are we."

He was still lightly chuckling as he sat back up. "All too true. What's wrong with us?"

"Probably everything. Now, I think we need a toast to cap this sorry episode off."

"You've got it." A waiter happened to be passing by with some drinks, so Junpei borrowed two glasses of juice, ignoring the frowns he gave me. "To traumatic backstories?"

I clinked the glasses. "And to messed-up situations with our parents."

Crack.

Thou shalt have my blessing when creating a Persona of the Magician Arcana…

Even with all the deep, emotional stuff, I'd still held Junpei to his offer of treating me to ramen (that was what friends did); I left the restaurant a few minutes before him. I had expected him to catch up quickly, but it later dawned that he'd left his wallet at school. Oh well.

I took my time to walk back to the dorm, making sure I gave all of my muscles a proper stretch. It was early evening by the time I got back, to see Fuuka and Yukari playing with a smallish, white dog.

They replaced me with a dog.

The girls noticed me at almost exactly the same time. "Minato-kun!" Yukari greeted me. "We heard from Junpei that you're all good now. Welcome back!"

"Yeah," I mumbled. All my attention was still focussed on the dog. Being able to lounge around, while cute girls scratch your stomach… I wouldn't say I was jealous, but it was close. "When did we get a dog?"

Fuuka looked up. "Hmm? Oh, we didn't get a dog. He just walks down here every now and again. I've seen him at the shrine a few times. Oh, his name's Koromaru. Koro-chan, this is Minato-kun. Go say hi!"

The dog walked up happily, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Close up, there were two (or three, depending on how you count it) incredibly distinguishing features: a lack of a collar (he can't be a stray, can he?), and a pair of deep, red eyes (albino dog – bonus points for uniqueness) that just seemed… intelligent, somehow.

Also, he was a Shiba Inu, and he was absolutely adorable. I quickly scooped him up in my arms. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy, Koro-chan?" Who cares if they replaced me with a dog? This was the best dog ever!

Then I remembered that I wasn't alone. Fuuka was struggling to stifle some giggles; Yukari hadn't made it that far. "I didn't think you were a dog person, Minato-kun."

I surreptitiously cleared my throat, and put Koro-chan… Koromaru back on the ground. "Honestly, neither did I, but he's just too cute." Yes, I had a soft side. "Anyway, who's his owner? Seems strange to just let a dog run about like this."

And like that, the mood took a tumble. Both the girls started looking uncomfortable. "He… isn't here anymore."

Ah. "What happened to him?"

"I'm not sure," Yukari tentatively began, seemingly noticing that Koromaru was beginning to look sad as well. "I've only heard it from people walking down here, but he died a few months back. I think he was a priest at the shrine, and the two of them always went on walks down here. Koro-chan's just been carrying on by himself."

Koromaru was now thoroughly depressed. If I couldn't say no to Elizabeth making puppy-dog eyes, how could I say no to an actual dog? I knelt down and gave him a good scratch behind the ears. "You are a proud and noble creature, Koro-chan." His tail started wagging, and he began perking up. "Your loyalty is more than worthy of respect."

"Arf!"

Yukari giggled again. "It looks like he likes you, Minato-kun. Anyway, it's getting late. I think we need to go in and get ready for the chairman."

"Wait, the chairman's coming?"

My confusion was mirrored on Yukari's face. "Huh? Junpei didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. "No. Junpei was too busy mentioning the new batch of rugs we got for the dorm, underneath which there are absolutely no suspicious stains made out of questionable materials at all. No way."

A bit of a dumbstruck pause followed, followed by something that resembled a hiss. "One of these days, Stupei… but, yeah, the chairman'll be coming in an hour or two. He wanted to talk to us about something."

Right. "Do we know what?"

As soon as those words were out of my mouth, Yukari looked distinctively more uncomfortable. Fuuka picked up the question. "Well, he hasn't told us anything yet, but if he's coming here in person, it has to be important, right? He could have just given a message to Mitsuru-sempai, but he didn't, and he waited until you were all better. That's why I think it's important."

"I see." I stood back up, giving Koromaru a last bellyrub. "I hope, noble creature, that one day we will meet again."

"Arf!"

There were indeed a lot of new rugs in the dorm. To describe the atrociousness of the state of the carpets underneath would be an exercise in futility, so I won't. Also, I noticed that some of the sofas in the living area had been replaced with those originally from the meeting room. Anyone could guess the reason.

Still, I wasn't complaining. New leather sofas were cushy. In fact, they were so cushy that I ended up not-quite-listening to Ikutsuki's speech. Something to do with the large Shadows having some sort of pattern to them, so the next one would be a Hierophant, then some theories about the purpose of all this? That was the gist of it, anyway.

A night of board games with celestial horrors later, it was a crisp Sunday morning. The sun was bright, the air was clear, the birds were singing, and when I went downstairs, Yukari was semi-catatonic on a sofa, looking as depressed as the dog had been yesterday.

Well, I couldn't just leave her there, could I? "What's wrong?"

She seemed startled by my appearance, quickly sitting upright. "Huh? Oh. Um… not much. Really, I'm fine."

"Says the person who, until a moment ago, looked like a marinating steak."

"Well…" She paused. "Alright, fine. You know all that stuff the chairman said last night? About the twelve large Shadows and Tartarus, and all that?"

Not really, because I wasn't listening. "Yes," I lied.

"Don't you think there's just too much about it all that we don't understand? It just feels like we're in the dark about so much, and what we do know, half of it still feels like it's being hidden from us… it's getting to me."

Clearly, she was in a bad way. I did the thing which felt the most reassuring without being exploitative, and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

She shuddered briefly at my touch, but quickly calmed. "I… thanks, Minato-kun."

"No problem. Now, since no-one else seems to be here, how about we go out and do something, just the two of us?"

A light blush formed on her cheeks. "I'd like that."

I didn't think it would be possible, but you're going to screw this up.

Don't be such a nihilist. I've got this relationship under control.

Do you remember the last romantic gesture you shared, and how the one before that had been two weeks earlier? That was four weeks ago. Four. Weeks. Four weeks, in which you didn't even pretend to be in a relationship. Seriously, Minato, you're a terrible romantic. You need to try harder.

And I suppose a disembodied voice could do a better job.

And only an idiot doesn't take advice. Hubris may be your downfall. If you balls this up beyond the point of no return, I am going to laugh so hard, and your misery will be ambrosia to my ears.

Could you just shut up already?

"Minato-kun? Are you in there?"

I blinked. "Sorry, I was just distracted by how radiant you were looking today."

A smirk and a blush. "You're such a flatterer. Anyway, what colour gerbera do you think would be best?"

…What's a gerbera?

I didn't say that out loud, mostly because Yukari seemed incredibly enthusiastic about these 'gerberas', and I didn't want to disappoint her. I went for the safe choice. "I think pink would be cutest."

Yukari beamed out a smile. "You think so too? That settles it. Pink it is!" She fished out a handful of notes and gave them to the shop attendant. "What other flowers do you think would look nice?"

So gerberas were a type of flower? I was not, am not, and will never be an expert in flowers. I have always known so little about flowers that I can't even make sensible opinions about them. I gave the first thing I could think of which seemed like a sensible answer. "Cherry blossoms."

"Huh?" Clearly, she hadn't expected that for an answer. "Yeah, they're pretty, but… wait, are you suggesting that I should get a bonsai tree? That's… I'm not sure, but if you think it's good, it has to be at least okay, right?"

That logic seemed… dubious, at best. "So if I told you to take all your clothes off, right now, would you do it?"

She actually paused, as if seriously considering it. "Well…" Then her hands moved to the top of her shirt, and delicately undid the top button, before gently gliding down to the next one.

She's actually doing it. We're in a public place, surrounded by people, and she's actually…

"Psych!" Yukari giggled, quickly fastening up all her buttons again. My head refused to move. "My eyes are up here, you know?" With great effort, I forced my head back up – damn you, hormones – though she was still taking it in her stride. "Seriously, sometimes you can be as bad as Junpei."

"Hey, don't drag him down into the same tier as me. He doesn't set things on fire."

She missed a beat, before give a gentle, warm laugh. In fact, Yukari seemed to be especially full of laughter that day. It felt like we were more than getting closer, and if the day had just ended there, it would have been great.

Unfortunately, the day did not end there, and, in accordance with the apparent theme that weekend (happy, joyous situations rapidly taking a nosedive), all that laughter dried up right then, when Yukari received a phonecall.

"Hold on a moment," she said, obviously expecting a schoolfriend or some other associate. The smiles stopped when she saw the caller ID. All she answered with was a grim "Hello."

The following is a transcript of what Yukari shouted into her phone.

"Yeah? What do you want?

"Just get to the point already.

"…What. What?! Is this a joke?!

"Oh, of course it isn't, right? Dad was always the one with the sense of humour, wasn't he?

"Move on? How am I the one who needs to move on? You've been flinging yourself at guys half your age since he died, for what? And now… how do you think he feels about all of that?

"Just what do you want from me already!?

"…You know what? I don't have to deal with you or any of this. Go ahead. Do what you want. Just don't call me, because I don't want to deal with any of your shit ever again!"

She hung up, grim finality laced into the action.

Her words were harsh; her tone was harsher. It started at annoyed, quickly become irate, eventually flying straight into pure, unadulterated hatred. Then, at the end, each word coming from her mouth turned into a dozen barbed knives, caught with you in the heart of a storm, making a thousand cuts to tear at your flesh every second, before ripping out your blood and shunting it into your lungs, so you drown whilst still on your feet; and yet, that description still doesn't cover the true venom and toxicity. However sharp you think it was, it was sharper.

The happy mood from minutes earlier was already dead and buried, to have been replaced with cold, pallid silence. It loomed over both of us – her, unsure of how to regain her footing; me, of simply how to approach the issue.

People around us milled on, oblivious.

Some time later, it was a hearse voice, torn between bursting and collapsing, that finally spoke. "Do you remember what I said? That my dad died, and that I don't get along with my mom?"

I gave a slow nod. "Was that her?"

An almost-sarcastic chuckle escaped her lips. "You didn't miss a beat. Yeah, it was her. She said…" Yukari paused and took a deep breath, considering her words. "She's living with one of her boyfriends at the moment. I've lost count of how many she's had. Some of them were barely older than me. But now? She says she's happy, and she wants to get married again. Married. She wants to get married."

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm not alright!" Yukari snapped. "How would you like it if your mother was nothing more than a slut, good for nothing more than dragging your dad's name through the mud? Do you think that's fair? Would you be alright with that?"

So in addition to tonal nosedives, this also seems to be the weekend of traumatic backstories and scarred familial histories. It's like a soap opera!

I opened my mouth to try say something comforting, but nothing came out. The situation was beyond me. The silence returned.

It seemed to last for an eternity.

"…Sorry," Yukari finally calmed. "I… shouldn't have yelled at you. You didn't do anything wrong. Sorry."

I let out a half-held sigh. "It's alright. I think I understand. If you need me, I'm here."

Yukari gave a final glance down at her phone. "Thanks, Minato-kun."

Crack.

Thou shalt have my blessing when creating a Persona of the Lovers Arcana…

After all that, I'd thought that a good amount of destructive catharsis would be good for all of us. The plan had been simple – go to Tartarus, blow some Shadows up, feel good.

When we got there, though, something just felt… off. Maybe it was how Yukari still looked as sombre as earlier. Maybe it was how Junpei was attacking the task with less than half his usual vigour. Maybe it was how Mitsuru almost reflexively gave a disapproving glare any time one of my Personas detonated, or the look of not-quite-but-almost disappointment on Akihiko's face when we left him in the lobby with Fuuka, or how Elizabeth cited 'bureaucratic errors' when I asked her how my flamethrower was. I don't know. All I know, is that something was off.

"Omoikane!"

At my call, what could only be described as an unholy hybrid of a jellyfish and a giant brain appeared, simply floating there, somehow looking bored. Of course, it then exploded in a shower of charge and sparks, taking out two small Shadows, but there was no pleasure in it. There wasn't any of that visceral feel, or that sort of primal adrenaline surge from wanton destruction. There was… nothing. It felt mechanical. Soulless.

Experimentation didn't really help, either.

"Oberon! Chimera!"

Both beings – a proud-looking fairy king, and a jumbled mishmash of animal parts – promptly appeared, before turning into light and merging, as experienced before. This one didn't explode. Instead, it seemed to settle and flow; the light eventually faded, to show a half-man, half-snake being, clutching shield and spear.

Naga.

Then it exploded, but we were all expecting that.

And so, we continued. Find Shadows. Eliminate Shadows. Create explosions. Move up to next floor. Repeat. Repeat some more. Et cetera.

In fact, part of me thought it was almost a relief when we all began to hear the cold jangling of chains, so we had an excuse to leave. 'Almost', because the rest of me could tell that something was now coming to kill us, and dying was not something I was looking to do.

"Run!" Fuuka's voice shouted over the intercom. "I sense Death!"

You probably should have told them it was death, not Death.

I didn't bother respond. Too busy not dying. "Did anyone see an access point on the way here?"

Nope. No-one did.

"Alright. Let's just –" and then a loud boom, and something whizzing over my head.

"Minato Arisato."

God, no. How was he here already?

"I will hold myself to my word. This will be your end."

Idontwanttodie

Any sense of appreciation for death was immediately lost. Boredom and disinterest is still better than being hunted down by something with a personal vendetta against you. I bolted, turned and ran.

I probably just left my friends to die, didn't I?

Actually, those are footsteps behind me. Hopefully, they're alright. I hope they don't call me out on that. I should probably check on them, to make sure they're alright.

I reached a corner, turned back, and almost froze.

It was ignoring them. It was completely ignoring them. It could have tried kill them, but no, it was plainly, flat-out ignoring them, and it was coming straight after me.

Why? What did I do? Why does it hate me this much?

"You have cheated me often enough. It is time to accept your destiny."

Behind me, I could hear its guns cocking. Shit. Okay. Duck and weave. Duck and weave. Duck and weav–

That's an access point. I'm going to–

Something tore through my knee.

Shitshitshitshitshit I only just got out of hospital I don't want to get hospitalised again and my knee's on fire but the exit's right there and I can deal with all of this later so I just need to get out right now and shit I'm falling and I probably should have expected that and my face is scraping along the floor.

"Do you now see the futility of your actions? I am inexorable. It is time for you to return to where you belong."

Sprawled on the floor of Tartarus, one of my legs limp and useless, bleeding massively from at least one severe wound and probably a couple more I didn't notice, rapidly going cold – this weekend had been a mess, and to top it off, I was going to die. Great.

I looked up to see two long barrels, both pointed squarely between my eyes.

…Hey, Lyra. If my head explodes, I don't suppose that you could put it back together again?

I doubt it. I can do up your leg, but your head? No, the world'll probably end up dead.

Great. Just checking to make sure I don't have any Get Out of Jail Free cards I hadn't used. Oh well.

Guns clicked into position.

This is it, then. I closed my eyes, just waiting for the end.

So you're giving up again. While I can understand your logic, do you remember what happened last time?

I'm not really sure what you're hinting at –

"Hermes!"

Oh, right. Big damn heroes.

A giant blue blur rammed straight into death's side. Startled, two bullets missed anything significant. In response, it gave out some sort of primal snarl, and for a moment seemed to have completely forgotten about my presence, instead focussing on smashing Hermes to pieces.

"Insolent mortals. I will teach you to show respect to your superiors."

For the record, even though its attacks were barely managing to do anything, Hermes was managing to dodge pretty well. Junpei took the opportunity to skid up (literally, as my blood had made the floor slippery). "He's here! Don't worry, and – holy shit, what happened to your leg?"

"Iori! Not the right time!" Mitsuru and Yukari quickly followed. Yukari immediately looked greener; if Mitsuru was fazed, she didn't show it. "The access point is right there. We have to get him out first. Then we can deal with his injuries."

"Right. Got it. Yuka-tan, take his other shoulder?"

"Okay. Just hang in there, Minato-kun."

Somehow, I'm still alive.