36.
3.27.16?
The terms of our arrangement will be fulfilled. He will be taken down from that cross, and you need not even suffer the guilt of releasing Nyx into the world. You and all you love will be at peace.
So why do you regret so much?
3.27.16?
It was clear Iori's team hadn't had smooth going. Kanzeon kept finding the ghosts' bodies, leading them on a course further west and north. She was, as Souji had so easily put it, an advantage. An advantage? That's all? Not even moral support? Rise shook her head. No, he had the right focus. She had to stop brooding on Souji, blaming herself for Naoto's death - and Souji and Kanji heading towards their own destruction - no, she couldn't stop to think about any of that -
"It's getting dark," she heard Chie say. Was it? Rise dispelled Kanzeon and looked up to see the sky had shifted to pale red. She wasn't surprised; she felt like they'd been going for three days, alternating between walking and running, all of them weak with hunger. How much farther would they have to go? How much more could they take?
"Should we stop to rest?" Rise asked.
Chie stamped her foot. "I hate resting. I don't want to. It feels like - like every second we waste, we lose another chance to stop Kirijo."
Yosuke stepped between the girls, putting on hand on Rise's shoulder, the other at the small of Chie's back. "C'mon, if we stop now, we're going to collapse. Let's just pace ourselves and keep going. With any luck, Iori's group will be resting and we'll catch up with them." They began walking again, Kanzeon materializing.
"I wonder if..." Chie's chin quivered, and she clearly altered what she'd been about to say. "...if the guys are through with Kronos yet?"
"Maybe," Yosuke said flatly.
"It's just a ghost," Chie said; as Yosuke grew more tired, their roles had reversed, Chie the one grasping at excuses and optimism. "Sure, it's powerful, but it can be killed."
"We think it's a ghost," Rise said. "I mean, it's hard to know exactly what it is. It feels like it's parted from its Persona, but there's something else..."
"Hold on," Yosuke said. "I didn't think of that. What kind of Persona does that thing have? It looks like a friggin' Persona."
"It isn't," Rise said. "I can tell that much."
3.27.16?
They hadn't stopped to rest. Kanji wasn't tired, and Souji hadn't shown any signs of slackening. They'd crossed the cliffs, finding themselves facing badlands, the ground only relieved by scattered boulders and rock formations. Far away, they could barely make out more ridges lit by a faint bronze haze. Souji paused and studied the glow, then nodded. "I think that's him."
Kanji didn't answer. Vaguely, he wondered why he wasn't more tired or hungry, but he was grateful he didn't feel much of anything. Even his anger had cooled to a hard lump in his chest, painful but bearable.
Souji tensed, angling his blade up. Kanji followed his sight line to a cluster of boulders to their right. It was almost full night, the rocks nothing but black smudges in the red darkness. Neither waiting for a question nor offering an explanation, Souji evoked, Izanagai-no-Okami plunging forward, a shaft of brilliance. The two young men ran, followed Izangai's trajectory, Kanji evoking as he went. There was the blast of gunfire, then a woman's scream.
Something jumped in Kanji's chest, and he ran faster. Izanagi flashed out of the rocks, his attack halted by Souji. There was another retort, the bullet passing harmlessly through Izanagi.
Which made it clear it wasn't Naoto. Izanagi dove. The woman cried out again.
Souji and Kanji halted in the rock-cluster, weapons raised, Rokuten Maoh looming behind Kanji. Izanagi-no-Okami stood over the prone form of a woman, a gun lying just beyond her hand. She wore a blouse and knee-length skirt, her blonde hair splayed over her face, half-obscuring her wide eyes. Izanagi's polearm was angled to her chest. Kanji swallowed, disappointment burning in his stomach.
"Who are you?" Souji asked.
The woman turned her eyes to look at them, then reached for her gun; there was a bloodless gash that nearly bisected her arm lengthwise. They could see the muscles and tendons flex, looking artificial without any blood. "I - I'm no one. Let me go."
"Where is Kirijo?" Souji asked. Kanji couldn't bring himself to speak; it would be easier to just move on.
The ghost's voice shook. "I can't tell you." She wore high heels, her nails gleaming with an expensive manicure. She'd probably never had to use a gun before tonight. "You won't find her."
"What are you doing here?"
"Looking for someone. That's all. You - you don't need to fight me." Somehow, her fingers hooked on the pistol. The polearm's blade pressed against her collar bone. Glancing, Kanji saw that Souji's face was tense. He had to hate doing this. Kanji tried to care, then wondered why he bothered.
"Who are you looking for?"
"If I tell you, will you let me live?"
"If you don't attack us," Souji said carefully, "we'll let you live." He paused. "If you can call that living."
The ghost flinched. "Of course I'm alive. I - I never needed-" She looked away, then up at Izanagi-no-Okami, staring into his mask. She pressed her lips together for a moment. "Would mine have...been like that? I never even saw it before she took it."
"Kirijo?" Souji asked. "She took your Persona?"
"That's not important," she said quickly. And then, "She said it was to save someone's life. What else could I do?"
Souji waited a moment, then repeated, "Who are you looking for."
The woman didn't even glance over, studying Izanagi. "Shirogane."
Kanji took a step towards her, more angry than hopeful. "What?"
"Why?" Souji asked. "Is she alive? Where is she?"
The woman's eyes widened again with alarm. "I don't know. She just told me to look here. I don't think she was sure where Shirogane would be."
"Drop the gun," Souji said. The woman blinked, then obeyed. Izanagi fluidly sidestepped and crushed the pistol under his bladed foot. Without another word, Souji left the boulders at a run, Kanji behind.
"What're you doing?" Kanji asked roughly. "She's not alive."
"Kirijo thinks she is," Souji said. "And she knows this place better than any of us."
"Shut up." Emotion was building in Kanji again, and it was the last thing he wanted. He'd made his choice, couldn't he be left to just do it? He wasn't going to be toyed with; there was no point in hoping. He wasn't going to call her name. He had to hold it together.
They'd been running for about five minutes when, at the edge of his vision, he saw a slim white figure lift out of the darkness.
Without thinking, he pivoted and ran towards it. He and Souji both came at a run.
Yamato Takeru, blood streaming down his front, pouring from beneath his helmet, lofted higher into the air, revealing a small shape curled in the lee of a boulder. Somehow, Kanji ran faster.
Pain split his face. He stumbled to one knee, bringing his trash can lid up, missing whatever had struck him. Rokuten Maoh's sword lashed out, and Kanji felt it connect with something much smaller.
"What's-" Souji started, then Kanji heard the ring of metal striking Izanagi's polearm.
Kanji blinked, staggering to his feet, blood running into his left eye from the shallow swipe across his forehead. He saw Yamato Takeru's white shape describe a graceful arc through the air before a rain of Megidolaon fell on him. He brought his shield up to block, feeling the spell run through him, cold and hot together. Lowering his shield, he saw Izanagi-no-Okami lunge at Yamato Takeru, drawing his blade up the smaller Persona's stomach. Blood fanned down, a brighter red than the sky.
"What the hell-" Kanji stared as Yamato Takeru faltered, then stabilized himself, lifting his sword to cast Mahamaon. Kanji stepped back as the light sigil appeared before him, but it shattered without taking effect. "Why's she - Naoto!"
"Something's wrong," Souji panted, casting Ziodyne, veins of light thrusting through Yamato Takeru. "Why's he bleeding?"
Kanji suddenly realized it too; Personas didn't bleed. He risked a glance at Naoto's form - she hadn't moved - was she even controlling her Persona?
Yamato Takeru surged towards him. Kanji hesitated - Rokuten Maoh had time to intervene, counterattack - but he only brought his shield up, letting the sword shriek through the cheap metal, barely clear his face.
"Come on!" he heard Souji shout. "We have to stop him!"
"But-"
"It won't hurt her!" It never had before. But then, Personas had never bled before, had never attacked by themselves before. Every rule seemed to be changing.
High above them, Yamato Takeru set himself, preparing for another attack. With luck, he could kill both of them in less than a second. They didn't know hurting Yamato Takeru would hurt Naoto - necessarily. But despite the names, the shapes, the powers, and all the masks a Persona represented, Yamato Takeru was Naoto. Though it took only a heartbeat, Kanji had ample time to hate himself as Rokuten Maoh attacked, fiery sword arcing down, slashing Yamato Takeru's stomach open, through to the spine.
Yamato Takeru recoiled, bringing his knees to his chest, then fell limp and dropped. He vanished before he could hit the ground.
The next thing he knew - though he couldn't remember running - Kanji had slumped to his knees at Naoto's side and was rolling her onto her back. Souji stepped close behind him, holding his card to provide light. Naoto's head lolled, exposing her throat. With a relief so sudden it was like nausea, Kanji realized he didn't have to check for a pulse; he could see her breathing. He exhaled, whispered something - he wasn't sure what - probably a curse. Souji's hand was on his shoulder.
"Why isn't she waking up?" Kanji asked after a moment, voice cracking, hands on her arms.
Naoto's eyelids tensed, then parted slightly, each showing only a dark glimmer of eye. Souji's hand left his shoulder, and Kanji heard him shift his stance, bracing. With a jolt, Kanji remembered that Naoto had been trying to kill them.
Well, if she was going to try it again, tough shit. He held his ground, looking down into her face.
Naoto's eyes widened with surprise, moving from him, to Souji, back to him. Her voice didn't come at first. "...h-how?"
Souji crouched down next to Kanji. "All right there, Naoto-kun?"
Kanji released a shaky breath. "Friggin' asshole - what the - we were - I-" And then he broke off because he realized she was crying. She didn't sob, and she'd bitten her lower lip to keep it from shaking, but the tears trailed down her dirty temples, gathering in her hair. Kanji swallowed, his throat closing, amazed and aghast he'd managed to hurt her feelings. "...Sorry."
But Naoto didn't seem aware of a single thing either of them had said. "How did you find me?"
Souji shrugged and smiled. "We wandered around, honestly."
Naoto bit her lip harder, closed her eyes for a long moment, then pushed herself into a sitting position, fingers coming to her forehead. Kanji's hands dropped from her. "How long have I... What day is it?"
"We think it's the twenty seventh," Souji said, his fond tone growing serious. "Naoto, do you know your Persona attacked us?"
Naoto raised her head to look at him. "What?"
"Yamato Takeru came at us when we tried to approach you. He was bleeding."
"What?" Naoto repeated, fear in her voice. She lifted her palm and crushed her card. Both Kanji and Souji braced as Yamato Takeru manifested above them, but he seemed quiescent. He hung limply, head bowed forward, stomach torn through, blood broadly staining his elegant uniform. Kanji flinched, shamed.
"We're sorry," Souji said, "we had to stop him. He..." He should have healed by now. Another rule that had been broken.
"Kronos," Naoto whispered. "He did something to Yamato Takeru. I felt it."
"How?"
Naoto stared numbly at her Persona. "It was like Kronos was trying to rip him from me." She closed her eyes, grimacing, and the Persona vanished. "I don't know how I stopped him. I just escaped."
"If Kronos was trying to part you from Yamato Takeru," Souji reasoned, "then...I guess that could account for your Persona acting on his own. But, parted or not, Yamato Takeru is you."
Kanji waited for her to open her eyes. When she didn't, he had to speak. "So you want to hurt us? Part of you?"
Naoto turned her face to her shoulder, away from them both. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I've - spent much of my time lately wishing none of you were here. But I - I thought it was because I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you following me into danger. I didn't-"
"You know what?" Kanji interrupted brusquely. "I can't count the number of times I've wanted to bash one of my friends' faces in, just because they were being pricks. It happens to all of us."
"Yeah," Souji said after a second. "You want us safe, and we keep throwing ourselves at danger. You have a right to be frustrated."
Naoto still didn't look at them, and her voice was thick. "Are you - are you two mocking me? I'm sorry. I'm not a very good friend. I wanted you all gone so I didn't have to worry-"
"Just shut the hell up!" Kanji broke in. "You worry about us and then head off on your own into a shitstorm like this? Dammit, I don't care if you're all right, you still piss me off!"
Naoto jerked around to face him, eyes wide - then narrowed - then she blinked and bit her lip again, blood picking the edges of her teeth. Kanji wished she'd stop, but that was irrelevant, especially when he was still furious with her.
"I'm sorry," Naoto said, voice too even.
Kanji stood. "Did I ask for an apology?" Reaching his hand out, he hoisted her to her feet. Then, as she was toppling anyway, he slung his arms around her and pressed her to himself, feeling a tangle of emotions he couldn't begin to consider. He didn't even have the space to be shocked that he was, after five years of guiltily thinking about it, holding Naoto Shirogane. She barely came up to the middle of his chest, held there by one of his arms. Feeling that she was still trembling, he was about to put his other hand on her waist to support her when she raised one fist, hauled back and hit his side as hard as she could.
Didn't hurt in the slightest. Still, he released her, stepping back, stoked and appalled at himself all at once. Naoto, paler than before, was breathing hard, staring wide-eyed at him. Kanji's hand twitched up to sheepishly rub the back of his neck - stopped midway. There was still only a foot between them. Naoto hadn't taken her eyes from him. Mouth dry, Kanji hitched his sleeve over his hand, and he gently pressed it to her lower lip, catching the blood. She didn't move.
About then, Kanji remembered that, years ago, he'd met a guy, a certain Souji Seta. A certain Souji Seta he still knew. A certain Souji Seta who was standing just to his right, probably sponging all of this up. His hand jerked away as he turned to glare - and there was Souji Seta, but he'd walked a few meters off, his back to them - but the moment was broken. By the time he turned, Naoto had stepped away, gingerly bending to retrieve her cap. She straightened, one hand on the boulder to steady herself, and asked, businesslike, "Do either of you have any water?"
Hearing the shift in her voice, Souji turned around, hands in pockets. "Sorry."
"It can't be helped." She cleared her throat, smoothing her hair and putting on the cap. She didn't look any less bedraggled - dusty, scraped, scorched - but she seemed to draw some benefit from it. "What about the others?"
"They're angry," Souji said. "Sit down and we'll explain."
"I don't need to sit," Naoto clipped, not looking in Kanji's direction. "I'm fine."
"That's super," Souji said. "But we just got out of a fight. We need a breather."
Naoto sat, but the slight tilt to her chin implied it was for their benefit. Kanji, still trying to absorb all that had happened, was the last to sit. He was glad Souji was willing to explain, because, at the moment, he wasn't sure he could say anything.