He was weightless, as if he were floating on air. At the same time, however, he could feel his feet touching the floor. He opened his eyes, and only a void stared back.

This wasn't his body.

Oh, sure, he brought his hand up to his face and it was indeed his own hand, but it wasn't. This body wasn't his body, the clothes weren't his clothes. They were a figment of the imagination. They weren't real. He was simply trapped in his own mind.

What a pain.

Rolling his "head" back in exasperation, he started to walk forward. He was moving, but he wasn't. There was no place to go, but the thought of moving at least beat standing around in a void. Well, that was the plan, until he couldn't move anymore.

"You should not be here."

The voice permeated through the void. It was horrifically deep, almost warping amidst the darkness. He looked around, but nothing was there.

"You should be unconscious."

He clicked his "tongue". He would have rocked on his "heels", or shoved his "hands" in his "pockets", but he couldn't move. What. A. Pain.

"I'm not a big fan of somebody controlling me," he sneered. "Even if that somebody is some kind of glorified god."

And, there it was, the slightest movement in the void. It almost looked like something opening, slowly rising high into the sky until he was "face-to-face" with a giant, yellow iris. Except, it wasn't a human iris, as once it fully opened, the iris' fully-gold cover shifted, as if different rings were setting into place. The middle remained gold, while the second "ring" snapped into place and turned a harsh green, and the two, smaller rings snapped into place and shifted into blue and red. Y'know, he just made a guess. He hadn't expected to actually be dealing with some kind of glorified god. What luck.

That would explain some things, though.

The eye continued to stare down at him, and the voice resonated from deep within. It was just as deep as ever, still warbling throughout this void of an area. "You are resilient, I will give you that, child of man. I could not have you throw yourself to your death, as it were. I still have use for you."

"Yeah, well, fuck that. You don't get to decide what I'm useful for." Only he did, and it wasn't for much, no matter his achievements.

"Tohru Adachi." Shut up, you shouldn't know his name. "You are a resilient man, but you are a weak man. A desperate man."

Shut up.

The eye bore into him. It was as if it could see right through him. "The gun in your bedside drawer, the one you made for yourself. You have put it under you chin, against your temple, in your mouth, but you can not fire."

Shut. Up.

"You are a coward. You take your anger and project it onto others. They want to die as badly as you, you decide. They've done horrible things, just like you, you decide. They reject you, so they deserve to die, you decide. However, same with your own failed suicides, you could not act on your impulses."

"So you MADE me—like some kind of fucking puppet?!"

"You are a chosen of three. I did not actively participate, but I watched through your eyes. I did not force you to do anything. My presence merely gave your impulses a push when it was so needed."

"And killing myself wasn't one of those 'impulses'?!"

"Of course not. You are my vessel. You were my vessel. After your leap, you should have stayed in the realm of unconsciousness. You could have had the death you so craved and you would have been none the wiser. Yet, here we are.

"It is no matter. I will use your body to leave this realm. The other two have failed. You have also failed in your own way, but only to the people that mattered."

The eye closed. A ghostly image of Dojima and Nanako appeared before him. The terrified crying from Nanako as she was pulled out from his apartment. The spread of emotions across Dojima's face as he betrayed him and held his nephew hostage. He felt heavy, and empty. As if his heart was sinking into the pit of his stomach, but also simply wasn't there. But... that couldn't be. This wasn't his body, he wasn't awake to feel anything. He shouldn't be feeling anything.

"Now, drift away with your subconscious. Feign the death you desire so badly."

He couldn't feel anything.

He was alone. He shouldn't be alone—he was just with—they were right there with him! Where did they go? He was just looking at the store window... no, he was in the living room... He'd been watching the TV...? He... He was alone. He was alone. Where was he? He couldn't see anything, there was so much fog. There was a door in front of him. He couldn't reach the handle. His hand hurt. There was blood on his face. Someone was screaming at him.

Something grabbed and burned into his leg. He screamed, but it came out as a wail. Where did his parents go? They were right there! He was being dragged into the TV—he was on the ground with hands squeezing his neck—he was staring at the store window—he was running—standing—confused—alone.

He couldn't move. He didn't know what to do. He felt hot tears running down his face, but he was frozen. He could feel the presence of people walking around him, past him, ignoring him. He thought he felt one faze right through him. He turned and looked, faceless blobs in the vague shapes of humans walked by. They were coloured like humans, had skin-tones like humans, but they looked like static. Their colours were jumping off of their forms. He thought if he reached out to touch one, it would shock him.

He turned to look back at the window. He saw his reflection, red-faced and tear stained. He was alone. All he'd wanted was a new colouring book so he asked if he could go with them to the mall. Now, he was alone.

"Hey, kid, are you okay? Are you lost?"

He barely heard it past his crying—he didn't realize how loud he'd gotten with his crying. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Let's sit down. My friend's gonna go grab security to help us find your parents, okay? We're gonna wait right here and everything's gonna be fine. C'mon."

He got lead slowly, delicately, to lean against the shop window instead of stare at it. He felt his heart hurt and his head burn. He was alone. Alone. He watched the legs of the figures walk by, the static of their figures growing. He thought he could hear them... bubbling.

A couple of hands were shoved in front of his face—they were stretching an elastic band between them. He saw the sleeves of a high school uniform.

"Watch this."

The movements were quick, the bright elastic band quickly circled the thumb of the teenager, cutting off the circulation. The rest of the elastic band he was holding in the air in a triangle above his thumb. "See that? It's wrapped tight around my thumb, right?" He moved the part of the elastic he had in the air, the elastic still wrapped tight around his thumb otherwise.

"Watch closely. I'm gonna make the elastic band go through my thumb. On the count of three. One, two, three!"

He almost blinked and missed it, but the teen tugged on the band and it phased through his thumb! He blinked stupendously. How did he do that? He looked at the teen, who wiggled his fingers. "Magic."

He blinked again, and slowly wiped the tears from his eyes. The teen before him wasn't made of static. He didn't look like he would electrocute him from a touch. He blinked again, and again, vision slowly clearing. The teen was readying another magic trick with an elastic band, his words falling on deaf ears. He couldn't see the teen's face—well, he could, but something was... missing? No, not missing. Something was... strange.

Almost like he'd seen him before.

Gaunt cheeks, dark eyes, short, messy hair... He was wearing big, clear glasses. Take those away and...

"Adachi-san?" The voice was his own, in the present. Did he blink? The man before him was no longer a teenager, but instead the adult that caused him so much pain and heartache. He was still setting up a trick with the elastic band, almost like he was ignoring him now.

He looked to the mall before him. It was empty. A fog crept in around their ankles, but no higher. He thought he would feel cold, physically. He thought he would feel angry, emotionally. He thought he would... feel, but, as he looked at the man before him, the man who caused him hell and horrors, he felt... nothing.

Nothing.

"They called me worthless, too," Adachi started, slowly. He wasn't doing anything special with the elastic band anymore, simply stretching and pulling it between fingers. "Well, my mother did. She killed my father, made it seem like an accident. He was the only one that cared for me."

Snap.

The elastic band was launched across the air, the red mark disappearing into the fog. There was no sound of it hitting the floor. "I don't know how she did it, but he died while she was fucking some sleazebag in their room upstairs. I called and cried for help, but she never answered, and I was too scared to leave my dad alone. The poor bastard..."

Souji didn't know what to say. He turned to look at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. Was this even real? Where were they right now?

"I wanted to kill that bitch. One night in highschool, I almost did it. Went to her room and held a pillow above her as she slept, but, I couldn't do it. I freaked out, paced my room the entire night and didn't sleep for shit. 'She deserves it,' I told myself. 'She deserves to die.' And she did, but I couldn't fucking do it.

"I've carried that feeling with me for years, y'know, even after I finally moved out of her house. The bitch still lives."

Souji continued to stare at his hands, rubbing a thumb along his palm. He still didn't know what to say, but he could finally feel a lump form in the back of his throat. Past that, he still felt... nothing. He'd say it was concerning, but he felt indifferent.

"I was hoping you'd kill me in the junkyard."

He looked up, and he felt his heart skip a beat... no, felt his heart start again. His entire body erupted with pins and needles as he felt the blood course through his veins. Everything tingled—everything felt like static. He was static. He turned slowly, the hairs on the end of his neck rising as he looked at the older man. Adachi didn't pay him any mind, simply staring ahead into the fog. The man had his knees up and his gangly arms dangled loosely overtop them.

Adachi shrugged and closed his eyes. "I mean, I didn't plan for it, I just kinda reacted when you went for Dojima."

Finally, Souji found his voice. "You care for him, don't you?"

Adachi was silent, eyes still closed, but he started tapping the gun in his hand against his leg. Wait, when did he get that?

He could feel the fog nipping at his ankles while Adachi stayed silent. It was almost unbearable, the only sound he could hear was the gun tapping against Adachi's leg.

And then, Adachi spoke, "That's all you have to say?"

"...Huh?"

"I try to kill you twice. I admit I wanted you to kill me, and, hell. I'll admit I pulled you back into the TV to try to get you to kill me again! I try to kill you like I killed that woman, I try to get YOU to kill ME and all I get is a 'You care for him'? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Adachi's eyes had opened mid-conversation. Past turning to look at him, glare at him, through half-lidded eyes, Adachi's posture otherwise didn't change. He stopped tapping the gun on his leg.

"I..." Souji faltered, studying Adachi's face. "I..."

Adachi's scowl deepened, and Souji felt the lump grow bigger in his throat. And then he felt something snap inside of him. He felt his blood boil.

"What do you WANT from me?!" He yelled. Adachi raised his eyebrows in surprise before they lowered. "Am I supposed to feel SORRY for you?! Am I supposed to feel SORRY for your story?! I AM sorry about your dad and I AM sorry you had a shitty mom, but that doesn't—"

He rose to his feet, fists balled at his side. He felt his entire being tremble with anger and fear. His face was hot with anger and tears of confusion. His heart pounded, like it wanted to rip out of his chest. Adachi simply stared at him.

"You—You tried to kill me when I'd done NOTHING TO YOU! I was sick and scared and I'd just FOUND A DEAD BODY! AND YOU TRIED TO KILL ME! You—YOU—"

He felt electricity surge through the soles of his shoes, shifting into his body and sinking into his skin. He could feel all hair stand on end as the current surged through his body, winds lashing out around him. He could feel Izanagi's presence manifest behind him, the electricity bouncing around the air around his face. Somehow, the bolts looked red.

Adachi simply stared at him. There was no light in his eyes. His skin was pale, his face was gaunt, he tapped the gun against his leg. And then, something inside of him clicked. Adachi wanted this. Adachi wanted his anger and his confusion and he wanted Souji to do one more thing that he'd regret. Slowly, he unfurled his fingers from their fists, joints aching with how hard he'd been pressing. Adachi simply stared.

The electricity shifted from red to white before the current fell, the winds stopping and Izanagi disappearing.

He took a slow, deep breath. "I'm not doing this, Adachi-san. I'm not playing your game anymore. I won't give you what you want. You've... You've done and caused enough. I'm..." He took another breath, before sliding back to the floor against the store window. He stared at his hands. "I'm tired..."

The only reply he got was the gun tapping against Adachi's leg. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap.

Tap.

"You know where we are, right, kid?"

He didn't look up. He didn't reply. He heard Adachi scoff.

"We're in some fucked up purgatory. Not dead, but not alive. You were going to be running around in your worst nightmares until I dragged you out."

He felt himself glare. "Am I supposed to be thankful...?"

"No." Adachi clicked his tongue. "But who's missing, hm?"

"Missing...?" He looked up, his glare replaced with perplexity. Past him and Adachi, the mall was empty. The faceless, staticy voids of human silhouettes were gone.

"Dojima-san. He's not here, and neither is that bear thing."

Souji's eyes widened. "What does that—" He whipped around to look at the detective, only to find the space empty.

He was alone.