TW: mentions of homophobic bullying and some REALLY gory scenes later

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So Moses said, "Thus says the LORD: 'About midnight I will go out in the midst of Egypt, and every firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sits on his throne, even to the firstborn of the slave girl who is behind the handmill, and all the firstborn of the cattle. There shall be a great cry throughout all the land of Egypt, such as there has never been, nor ever will be again."

— Exodus 11:4–6

7 / 26 / 2016

Niijima and I speak to everybody and surprisingly, nobody votes to go home.

"Are you all sure?" I ask, eyes drifting over to Sakamoto's.

He faces me, "Let's just get this shit over with. Your therapist's okay with goin' on."

"Maruki?"

"Bishop, codenames," blurts the cat.

"Bishop, you're sure you wanna keep going?"

"Yeah," he says tiredly. "I can keep up for a while longer."

"You look disheveled," Niijima cuts in.

"So does everyone else here. But we need to keep moving." And he's right. Everybody looks like they could use a hundred years of sleep, Niijima and myself included. But Maruki argues, "I've a feeling we're close to something. Given everything we've done in the two pyramids thus far, I'm certain things have changed in the Sphinx itself."

"Me too," says the cat. "New paths have opened up. I can feel it. There's a Will Seed over there, the way now completely unobstructed."

"We should at least give it a try," says Yoshizawa. "I'd rather end this while we still have strength."

"And if we encounter something like Mot?"

"I don't sense anything like Mot so far," says the cat. "At least, not from where we are. We might encounter something or other later. But for now we should be alright."

"Unless we see the Manikin of her mother. Or we see Sakura herself...," Niijima exhales.

"It's best for us overall if we go for the next Will Seed," Maruki nods. "I've still got enough left in the tank. We're so close."

"I actually agree with Bishop," says the cat. "There's a chance her memories'll fade away and become distorted again, pushed down to the bottom of her mind. Whatever we did here, it was enough to open a road to a Will Seed down below. Gives us the final piece of the puzzle. We need to know as much about her as we possibly can before we're blocked out again."

"Is the path to the Treasure opened?"

"Not yet. We'd likely still have to go through Dante."

"Shit."

Takamaki folds her arms, "So it's best if we take what we can get."

I turn to Niijima, and when she faces me, she bites her lower lip. Then she makes a judgement call. "We examine the place. See what's changed. If we figure we can't do it today, we get out of here. No matter what."

"That works for me," Maruki says.

Yoshizawa, "Me, too."

Takamaki with a, "Yeah."

And Sakamoto just nods, facing away from us.

Niijima turns to me, and I nod back at her.

I face them all, "Everyone gets behind me. In case something happens I'll be on the front lines."

I hear Sakamoto mutter "Show-off," as I decide on team arrangement.

Sakamoto and Niijima take up the rear, as they're both comparable heavy-hitters in their own right. Niijima in particular would serve well, especially if she pulls that cancer-inducing shit she'd pulled back in Tsukioka's Palace. Cat and Takamaki are in the next row, as Cat has healing spells and Takamaki's flames should do us nicely. Maruki and Yoshizawa stand behind me, as it allows me to keep watch on both the youngest member of the team as well as the buffer/debuffer.

We enter the Sphinx for the second time today, and immediately look down to find something that wasn't there before.

We see far below us an abyss, at the very foot of the tall flight of stairs leading up to wherever the Treasure is. The brick and stone and mortar of the floor having caved in and forming a gaping, open pit. Would be nothing more than a gigantic hole in the ground, if not for the long spiral flight of steps jutting out the wall. No railings, of course - just large rectangular steps that lead down to God knows where. Too black an abyss to really see what's down.

It's not a pretty sight for anyone, least of all Niijima, who's gripped herself by her arms again.

"Space has changed," says the cat. "It's... a lot further down than I thought."

"Any Shadows or Manikins?"

"Don't sense any. But that might change in a matter of seconds. Best not to make too much noise, we don't wanna aggravate the situation any more than we already have. The Will Seed's right down there. In the middle."

I turn to Takamaki, "Okay. Lady."

"Yeah?"

"Use your Persona to cast light when we descend."

"Sure..."

Takamaki summons Salome and her Persona's able to let loose a shaft of flame from the disembodied head's mouth, and slowly we make our way down the steps. They're large enough only for one person at a time to come through, so we all make our way in a straight line - first myself, then Yoshizawa, then Maruki, then the cat, then Takamaki, Sakamoto, and Niijima. Fortunately Takamaki's Persona can float beside us, and hold the flame for as long as we'll need before get to the bottom floor.

We keep ourselves close to the walls, our torso's facing them as we keep our heads facing down. Gripping the cracks and the crevices to keep ourselves from falling. We could very well use our Personas to either fly us down or drive us down, but I and all the rest of them are paranoid about flying in the darkness - for the light from above the hole doesn't reach us ten feet down, and perhaps something from down below or on all sides could snap at us before we'd ever be able to comprehend it. Better safe than sorry?

Even though we're not safe on the steps at all. One trip and we die.

We're fortunate no Shadows come at us on the way down. Even more fortunate that nothing seals up the hole overhead. When we get to the bottomland we step in something thick and wet and smelling of iron. When Salome's fire reaches us, my first reaction is of course it's blood. What else could it be? What actually stirs me is where the blood's come from - flattened mounds upon mounds of people, their bones mangled and their bodies all stitched together. As Takamaki and Yoshizawa rear back, as Sakamoto turns to puke and Niijima balls her hands up in fury and fear - Maruki and the cat and I encroach upon the masses.

"This was the ball of people that had come down at us from the top of the stairs...," says Maruki.

"They're all dead?" I ask the cat. "Or do I have to fire a few extra rounds?"

"They're pretty dead. But y'know how Palaces work. Might not be dead for long."

"You said she has an eidetic memory...?" mutters Maruki.

"Yeah. She does."

He nods. "I see. All these people, then..."

I've a couple theories in mind. First and most depressing instinct drives me to believe these were likely people she'd spoken to in her everyday life - and then I realize she must not have been able to speak to that many people at all. So if my theory holds any water whatsoever, then these must be people she must have had even surface level interactions with - people she's remembered in her mind's eye. What strikes me is what they had said, as they came down the stairs after us.

How could you exist, Futaba? How could you come to know us?

She views herself as a curse upon anyone she ever meets. Anyone she ever comes to know. It's no wonder she loved Kana as much as she did. Fairly certain she had more in common with the girl than I ever could have.

"Guys...?" Takamaki mutters. "You should all see this..."

The flame alights to where the Will Seed is, or at least should be. Salome's fires burn brightly enough for us to get a good look at what else lies at the bottom of this pit.

A tree-like structure, its branches and bark made of blue veins and red arteries, spread out like fingers on a hand. In the center of it all, hanging by roots digging into its flesh, is a severed head, once more. But unlike the pyramids, this head is not skinned alive, which allows Maruki and myself to determine its identity easily as Sakura's mother - the face we've seen peppered throughout every Will Seed in this place. Bowl-cut black hair, blank white eyes. Blood still pools out, down over her cheeks, down out her lolling jaws.

But that isn't all. Encircling us, painted over the walls.

The mural stands about twenty feet high, and encompasses the entire base of this cylindrical pit. Behind the tree of veins is a stark red wall, with fetuses curled up and falling down headfirst. To the right of this image is another - a series of dead amphibious creatures merged into each other, as if stitched together, and we know they're dead because their bodies are rotted with decay and disease. Across the corpses' frames lay a thousand bursting volcanic boils. Flies, lice, and gnats construct a black skeleton in the next panel, as it lies in a pile of maggots. Then, a painting of multiple desiccated animal skeletons, each with a thousand eyes where their ribcages and stomachs ought to be. I see a horse, a cow, a bull, a chicken, and others - and their bones entwine, as though they're in an orgy. Suddenly the wall turns fleshlike after that, sacks of pulsating meat bulging out from the stone, each almost as large as an exercise ball. The flesh merges with an image of thunder and lightning and fire raining down from the heavens, burning alive the earth below - in the next image we see a thousand burning corpses being feasted upon by locusts and disease. Finally we're smashed with a 3 meters of pure black, and we circle right back around to the image of fetuses falling down against a red wall.

"What the hell is all this...?" Sakamoto cries.

"Last Will Seed," cat responds.

Suddenly a light flares in Maruki's eyes, as he moves in closer to check the Seed. What he says next, he says with absolute certainty. "I know her mother's name."

"You gleaned that from the Will Seeds?" I ask him. "Not even I could get that from what I saw."

"It wasn't in the Will Seeds. I, I remember where I saw her from. Isshiki. Her mother's name was Wakaba Isshiki. I knew her. Or, I at least knew of her..."

"Who was she?"

"You ask me, she was... a revolutionary. In the field of cognitive psience, her research is practically required reading."

"Cognitive science?" asks Niijima.

"Psience. Less scientific, more supernatural. She produced several dissertations surrounding the existence of a... a world that exists as a result of the collective unconscious. In her works she gave it the called it the Metaverse."

Cat pulls him aside, "You're telling us she knew about the Vortex World?"

"She proposed the existence of a cognitive world. didn't have evidence it existed, if that's what you're asking - at least, not in the way we know it exists. She was heavily influenced by the writings of Carl Jung, and other psychologists who discussed the notion of a sort of... transcendental world that reflected the human heart. She was very well-researched on the topic. When I read that she had died in a car accident years ago, I felt depressed for weeks. Her work fascinated me. I read that she was survived by a daughter, and I remember - God, I remember thinking it must have been hard for a girl that young to lose her own mother..."

In ways we could never have imagined.

In all the chaos I nearly forgot about how I'd even found out about Futaba Sakura at all - how I had found info on her in Tsukioka's Palace. He pointed me here, to this girl - desperate for me to look for any way to save him from my own father. But he didn't and likely still doesn't actually give a fuck about Futaba Sakura at all.

Her mother was the one who actually mattered, all this time. And her mother being dead meant any information I could have ever gotten on her, I could only get in this girl's Palace.

"I can actually see this one's memories," says the cat. "It's the same as it's always been. Girl sees her mom clog up the underside of a car with her guts."

"What a horrible way to put it," grunts Niijima.

"That's all that's there, really. All that matters. Other than that, there's a lotta sad shit about lonely nights and missed dinners. Girl's mom was a workaholic and spent little to no time with her own daughter. Too focused on her job to do much with her kid."

"So she neglected Sakura?" Niijima says, voice aching at the notion.

"Neglect is a bit harsh, but arguably, yes. It's clear the mom loved her, but she was so busy she couldn't even show up to meals. Caused a couple arguments here and there. In the middle of one such argument the mom suffered her shutdown. Ran out into the street and ate tire."

Niijima, perhaps unsurprisingly, hears of this neglect - and even in this dark and damp and blood-soaked place, I can see plain as day the thought cuts her deep.

It compels me, again, to be the complete opposite of what I am. "What's wrong?"

Niijima's about to tell me It's nothing, but for some reason decides to tell it to us straight. "It just...reminds me of my sister."

Her relationship with her sister already sounds bad, from what I know. But seeing her reaction to Sakura's home life, to Sakura's loss.

Her sister deserves someone like her, as much as I deserve someone like Maruki.

Maruki and I together climb the artery-tree, the structure surprisingly sturdy as we reach up towards the severed head of Wakaba Isshiki.

Futaba Isshiki has an eidetic memory and this has been true ever since the day she was born. She can remember things even well before she's turned three, and perhaps the first thing she remembers above all else is an impossibly warm smile on her mother's face as she nuzzles into her breast.

Wakaba Isshiki is a beautiful lady who puts on a perpetual stone-face whenever she works. The mother wears silk-black shortly-cut hair, a sleeveless black shirt, and dark slacks with heels. She wears glasses and the lenses gleam a bright white that consumes her eyes. Her mother works, day and night at home - to estimate that she spends seventy percent of her waking hours slaving away at her desk, one would have to be cripplingly generous. Her mother allows her to enter the room, so long as she does not make noise, and the words that are imprinted in Futaba Isshiki's mind would be too complex for a child her age to read, were she not so smart.

Big, big words. The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Meeting the Shadow: The Hidden Power of the Dark Side of Human Nature. Romancing the Shadow: A Guide to Soul Work for a Vital, Authentic Life. Jung's work proper is in hardbound folders, their titles long if not complicated. Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self. Psychology of the Unconscious. Alchemical Studies. Answer to Job, The Red Book. Futaba Isshiki does not ignore such subjects as children her age normally would, instead these terms are absorbed, memorized instantly. Her chest aches when she sees her mother's back, for that is what she sees of her mother for most of the day - and she hopes, for as focused on her work as her mother is, that her mother knows she tried to understand her and what she does.

Futaba Isshiki says she'll be able to handle this but within a month she caves, and one lonesome Saturday night she pleads with her mother to come to dinner. For Futaba does not want to eat dinner alone tonight, and is it too much to ask her mother for just one night of dinner, as a family?

Mom... I'm tired of eating dinner alone all the time. It's always just convenience store bentos. I wanna go somewhere! Take me on a trip!

It isn't, because Wakaba Isshiki scolds her daughter for her pleading, somewhat sternly but hardly anything bordering on abuse - yet to Sakura's mind, overwhelmed by anxiety, the sounds are louder, the tone feels harsher, and the warmth in her mother's face seems to disappear entirely. I hear the mother tell her

I promise you. Once I'm finished here, I'll be able to find some time for us to go somewhere. We can have as long a trip as you want.

but all Futaba Isshiki hears is the first half of that statement,

Don't be so selfish! You know I'm working hard to support you, right!?

Her fears of being hated claw at her, numb her. Make her human flesh covered in warts, like a frog or a toad - they make her bones feel like they crawl with maggots, they make her already skinny frame almost skeletal. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror she sees a grotesque beast, a mummified animal of some kind or another. And it's not due to anything her mother tells her, it's due to everything she endures when she's out there, in the real world. When she goes to school every day and sees their faces bloat as they laugh at her, or scowl at her, or treat her like she's some kind of bizarre thing because she sees the world differently from them.

Whenever she returns home from school she repeatedly asks never to go back, only to return the next morning with a confidence that gets eroded over the course of eight hours. Her mother never pressures her to go to school - her mother cooks for her, comforts her, holds her in her arms close when she weeps. Gives her space, lets her stay home for as long as she likes, but Futaba always always makes it a point to go to school the next morning.

Her mother has never not been there for her. Futaba is horribly, deliriously angry with herself every time she thinks she's done something wrong - every time she fucks something up or throws a tantrum in class, shouts miserably at teachers who say things they don't understand have effect on her, grabs at a girl who calls her pizzaface or long-legs. Her mother would always calm her down, or at least keep her shoulders steady, tell her to breathe so her asthma doesn't rear up and Futaba's always reduced to crying in her mother's arms at the end of it all.

But it's only I who sees any of these warm and cozy flickers of the past - these memories are faint, but clear enough to appear in her mind's eye.

What Futaba Isshiki remembers the most clearly are the times she aggravates her mother, who shouts at her to keep quiet in her study. Who gets angry at her when she gets in another fight or argument in school. Who harps on her for playing video games all the time instead of studying or cleaning her room. Futaba tries, she tries to do her best in everything she does, for her mother works hours upon hours for her, so she should at least put in a fraction of the effort.

One day the bullying becomes far too much for her to bear. Kana isn't there to soothe her when they write horrible things on her desk calling her a dyke and a queer and a faggot whore, horrible and gruesome slurs piled on and written one after another because Futaba had made the sin of loving the only person who had ever been there for her other than her mother. Futaba Isshiki doesn't return home with her shoes when she opens her locker for them, because someone stuck razors in them before the end of class - and she runs home in her socks. When she gets home she doesn't cry, doesn't scream, doesn't beg to stay in her room forever or run into her mother's arms - because her mother's still busy with work and Futaba knows she's still busy even now.

Futaba Isshiki just stares at a photo of Kana on her phone, for hours upon hours upon hours. She'll tell her mother about the homework she'll never do in the morning. About the school she'll never go back to. About the people she'll never see again. About how she never wants to go outside even for a second, for the rest of her life.

But tomorrow comes and it begins with a crash.

Futaba Isshiki wakes up and finds her mother throwing things against the walls of their home, and screaming like she's been speared through the skull. Futaba Isshiki tries to stop her mother from hurting herself, begs her to stop screaming and calm down, but Wakaba Isshiki just grabs her by her hair and throws her against a wall. Wakaba Isshiki wanders out the house, her throat rattling as blood pours out her eyes and mouth, and Futaba tries pulling her back in, grabbing her because she's walking into the road, walking in front of a large, massive black box on wheels-

Then Wakaba Isshiki screams at her, yelling Futaba's name endlessly, yelling it out as if she hates her like nothing on earth and Futaba stops moving because her mother has turned into a beast right before her eyes, and it's too late for them to do anything as the black box comes.

Futaba feels her spine curl into herself, and she's almost sure she'll never walk again - then she sees her mother's screaming face fold. The car veers in directions that Wakaba Isshiki's body is unable to handle. Her skull is torn in two, for the wheel runs down her open mouth, ripping her jaw away from her head and crushing her throat. Her stomach is crushed by the other wheel, the weight of which all but gores her spine into pieces. Futaba sees her mother's legs squirm and flail, her lower half shudder in death throes that compel her waist to push up. The back wheels destroy what's left of Wakaba Isshiki's ribs, crushing her shoulder and flattening her heart and within just a few seconds the whole street runs a fresh ruby red.

After they take Futaba's mother out of the street, men in black suits come and attribute her death to maternity neurosis - they read off a long note, right in front of the girl, a long string of words that could only ever drive any daughter to despair if ever they heard their mother tell them such things.

I wish I never had her, are the words that stand out the most, and Futaba curses whatever God exists that she has to live while her mother remains split in three and burnt to ashes. Futaba wonders why she isn't dead yet, why the car didn't crush her insides or destroy her like it did her mother-

-and there is only one conclusion Futaba Sakura reaches, letting loose a great cry such as there never has been, nor ever will be again.

Once I return to the Palace I find Maruki kneeling, holding his head in his hands as he bawls. Yoshizawa, who had crept down to comfort him, turns to me and asks me, "What happened? What did you see...?"

I just close my eyes and turn away from them all. "We can't bring her into the Palace. It's impossible. We bring her here she will kill herself."

"Senpai..."

Takamaki, Niijima, and Sakamoto approach us then, the latter being the first to talk of the three. "So it's that bad?"

"Worse. She saw her mother get ground underneath the car's wheels, in full and vivid detail."

He groans, "Fuck."

"And you saw it too...," Niijima mutters.

I just nod. "She's completely exaggerated her mother in her head. I'd see her mother comforting her in her times of duress but they'd be faint, like embers. The memories that're clearest to her come in the form of her mother shouting at her, getting angry with her... losing her temper. When her mother died, Sakura thinks... she thinks..."

"She thinks she's responsible for that happening?" cries Takamaki, heartbroken.

Yoshizawa interjects, "She, she couldn't have been! It was a mental shutdown...!"

"She wonders why she's alive and her mother isn't. Why the car didn't crush her, even though at the time she had clung so tightly to her mother."

Niijima finishes the thought. "And the only possible explanation she can think of is that she pushed her mother into the car, away from her, to save herself."

Everyone is stuck, silenced at the sound of that. I tell them, "Police can only determine her as having had fucking maternity neurosis or something. Read out a whole fucking suicide letter in front of Sakura."

Niijima muses, "The reality is, Shijima had gotten ahold of her and brought her to suffer a mental shutdown. It's likely the so-called maternity neurosis was fabricated to cover up the truth behind her death. We know they're working with the police. So it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility."

"That's fucked up," Sakamoto's face curls into itself out of disgust. "They read out her mom's suicide note to her? Just for shits and giggles?"

"No. It was all tactical. Probably just to get this kid depressed enough to kill themselves down the line. Cut off any remaining loose ends while keeping their hands clean. Shijima killed her because of her research into cognitive psience. Likely wanted to keep her mouth shut about it, steal her notes for themselves, or silence her to keep away any prying eyes. I don't know."

"Uh, guys...?"

We turn to the cat, who's pointing towards Maruki, who's got his hand pressed against the wall behind the tree of veins.

I run up to him. He faces us all, his eyes still red from tears. When he talks, his voice is somewhat slurred and croaky, but still clear enough. "It's the ten plagues."

"The what?" Sakamoto grunts.

"It's... a Biblical story, isn't it?" Niijima mutters. "I vaguely know of it..."

"Never went to Sunday school," says Sakamoto. "How's it go?"

Takamaki turns, "What, you don't know? Everybody knows it."

"I'm not big on that God stuff."

Niijima tells him, "Moses tries to rescue his people from slavery at the hands of a corrupt Pharaoh... so God sends down ten plagues to convince Pharaoh to change his heart. But God hardens Pharaoh's heart, ensuring the Pharaoh will never change his mind."

"That's not fair," Sakamoto scratches his head. "So it's not even really the Pharaoh's fault Egypt got hit with the plagues to begin with...? Pretty fucked up of God."

"That's the translation I got ahold of," she shrugs. "Confused me, too. I don't even really remember what the plagues are..."

Maruki points up at the fetuses, falling down against a red backdrop. "At the beginning of the Book of Exodus, the past Pharaoh cast all male Hebrew babies into the river, because if the Hebrews had grown too numerous they'd have risen against the Egyptians. When Pharaoh refused to release the Hebrews from bondage, God let loose a plague of blood. The water in the Nile River turned red, and killed all the fish inside. This is Futaba describing her birth," Walks over to the next images, the frog corpses and the flies and gnats - Salome's flame following him as he walks. "Sakura sees herself as varying kinds of parasites or disgusting creatures. She views herself as a small, irritating and viscerally repulsive vermin. God sent out frogs, flies, and gnats when Pharaoh continued refusing Moses' pleas to let the Hebrews go...and these are how she sees herself." Next, the horse corpses and the meat sacks hanging from the walls, "Pestilence of livestock and plague of boils - she's a teenager and she develops body image problems. She's bullied at school so she frames herself as skinny like a dead horse, or hideous like a pile of boils and pimples. Next... her mother dies, and it's a thunderstorm of hail and fire the likes of which she'll never forget. Locusts attempt to feed off her, make bank using her..."

"Her uncle."

"Yes. And then..." his hand runs over the side of the last section. "A plague of darkness. For three days Egypt was enveloped in a total, freezing dark..."

"Like what's afflicting the desert now...?" Takamaki shudders.

"Yes."

Sakamoto narrows his eyes. "That's nine plagues. What's the tenth?"

Maruki turns back to us, "The death of the firstborn. Every firstborn child, in every household not painted over with pig's blood, is taken by the Angel of Death... and Futaba Sakura is an only child. After this phase is over. This deep darkness she's steeped herself in, she plans to kill herself. We've gone through the nine plagues in order...and now the tenth one is on the horizon."

Immediately everyone gets a pit in their chests as deep as this one and we're either terrified or depressed or both.

Yoshizawa runs her hands through her hair, "Can we even help her? W-will we even be able to change her heart without...? What if we make a mistake? What if we go overboard, what if we-? Is it at all possible for us to even try...?"

"I don't know. I just don't know," my hand shakes. "I don't know fucking anything..."

"There's got to be some way," Niijima cries. "I don't intend to let this person destroy herself!"

Sakamoto just exhales, "Y'know, I hate to say it, but I don't think that's up to us anymore."

"Ryuji!" Takamaki roars.

"You can't help someone who doesn't wanna help themselves. You can't help someone who doesn't think they can be helped. I'm not nearly as smart as some o' you guys here, but I know that much."

"She didn't choose this!" Yoshizawa defensively exclaims, "None of this is up to her! She's, she so mentally destroyed she doesn't know what to think anymore! We can't just turn our backs on her!"

He hisses, "Either she'll kill herself or she'll kill us. The longer we stay here, the more likely something'll come down on our heads and tear us to pieces. That what you want?"

"Then it'll be like we let Shiho jump off the roof again!" Takamaki shouts, grabbing him by his collar.

"We have to find her," Maruki says suddenly. "We have to find her Shadow, now."

I'm surprised by this proposition. "What, why? Why would you wanna find her?"

"Because there's a way we'll be able to do this, I'm sure of it. Trust me."

"Maruki, what are you saying?"

"Kazuya, just-"

"OH SHIT!" shouts the cat, "Manikin, here, now! Pile o' corpses! BIG ONE!"

We all summon our Personas on the spot as something rises up and out of the corpse pile, displacing the pool of blood and causing the red to lap at our feet. Another massive black box, but it isn't a car - it's a coffin, like Mot's, but rather than being made of gold it's as dark as night. Slowly the lid slides away from off the top, and when it falls to the ground the sound of the impact makes our eardrums tremble.

Slowly she emerges, her body not disfigured from being crushed under the weight of the wheels of a large car. Rather than a pharaoh's garments she's wearing long white robes with an basket-weaving pattern printed upon the cloth. Her skin is a pale grey. The black wings hanging off her back shimmer a metallic blue sheen, and each span more than twice the size of a car. Behind her head glows a burning golden halo and a word bellows into my ears right here and now -

Mastema, the Persecutor of God.

Her voice is deep and distorted, exactly the modulated tone I heard over the phone when Sakura ordered me around to do shit for her.

"Tiny little Thieves. Tiny little rogues. Parasites, dressing up and parading themselves as saviors. Have you come to rescue my little girl? Have you come to ease your burdens by lifting others out of their own? Such arrogance, but what is to be expected from children so weighed down by their guilt and their sins?"

"This is her mother...?" mutters Niijima.

"What she thinks of her. How she's exaggerated her in her head."

Cat observes, "No weaknesses, resistances to everything."

"Can we take her!?" cries Sakamoto.

"...we lost to Dante, we'll lose to her."

"Goddammit...!"

"Who is it that you say you are? My daughter intends to destroy your lives and have you endure a living hell, yet you would try saving her all the same? You are noble - perhaps unimaginably stupid, but noble. You could move mountains with your misguided sense of heroism, but you would hardly even put a dent in my daughter's heart."

Maruki rushes forward, gets in front of all of us. Speaks assuredly with a corundum voice, like nothing of the kind of man I've known all this time. "Wakaba Isshiki! Your daughter does not want to die! She wants to be free of this, of all this pain and horror, and we can free her! I can free her! Just bring her here, and have her speak to me! I just wanna ask her a few questions!"

"Maruki what the fuck are you doing-!?"

"All her memories, all her struggles, everyone she's loved and everyone she's lost - I've seen it firsthand, we've seen it! If you could - if she could - if Futaba Sakura could just be here and if you could let me ask her-"

"You think that you could speak to her? People have done nothing but speak to her, all her life. Tell her such horrible things that would corrode her soul. Do you think you could ever resolve her miseries by speaking to her?"

Suddenly they come in a barrage. Words and voices from all sides - some scream, others laugh, others shout in rage and others still speak so coldly. They all contain this vicious bitterness, and I no longer know if anyone had actually said this to her, or if she's blown them so wildly out of proportion due to her own anxiety-

But they all sound so vivid, so real, that I'm inclined to believe the former.

Y̹̿́ō̴̘u̯͒͞ ̟̈́͠k̶̥ͮi̢̜ͯl̵̲̿l͇̑͡e͍͗͞d̼ͥ͜ ͋͏̭h̫ͬ́ȩ͚̂r͈ͦ͡!̍͏̠!̶̩ͨ!̮͗͟ ͕̐͘W̼̓͠ḣ̴̖ý̰̚ ̃͏͇w͖̑͜o̧̫̓n̷͙ͮ'̻ͣ͠t͓ͫ́ ̵̫͗yͫ҉͍ȯ̧̤ư̰͌ ̡͍̀s͓ͭ͘a̡̹ͪyͥ͞ͅ ̛͓̔s̴̘ͪo̫̔͠m̨̞̀ĕ̱͢t͚ͮ͜h̳͊͜i̬ͥ͜ṅ̴̯g̰̿̀!̘̑͢?̸̣ͨ ̛̪̽Y̧̦̓ǫ̝̿ú̴ͅ ̫ͧ͝c̪ͬ͘a̼ͨ́n̙̽͠'̷̠͒ẗ̰́́ ̨̖͋c̶̗ͪĥ̛͇a̦ͭ̕nͦ҉͚g̙ͦ͞ḝ͕ ̷͚ͬt̶̺̂h̡͙͂ĩ͕͟s̸̻ͣ,̴̻̏ ͔̀͜F̯̾͢u̽҉͉t̜ͪ̕a̫ͩ͟ḃ̴̩a̼ͮ͞.͌͏̼ ͎͐͝Y̰̔̕o̴͎̎u̧͍̾ ̢̝̌w͂͏̤o̢̯̿n͙̽͝'̈͢ͅṫ̴̖ ͮ̀ͅe̶͍̐v̴̘͂ḙ̒͜n͊҉̣ ̲̔̕ḻ̛̉ó͝ͅo̞̐͟k͕ͮ͘ ͓͗͞a͇̚͜t͍̆͝ ͌͏̺m̧̜͊e̻͗͞?̷̩̀ ̣̿̀Ỏ̧̮f̺ͯ̀ ̧̥̇c̷̠͆o̡̫̿u̲̔͞ȑ̺͢s̡̤̄e̷̥̽ ̖̉̀y̘ͤ͡o̧̭ͯů̻́ ̫ͦ͢ẅ̙́͞ǒ̯͜n̪̽͢'̦ͮ͞t̷͍̆.̜ͪ͞ ̮ͥ́Y̜̔͡o͈ͫ̕u̹ͣ͟ ̶̺̾d̲͊͝r̗̀́o̒͏͚v̨̥͒e̢͍͂ ̨̳̾a̢̟̒ ̢͖͊m̺̚͜aͮ͏̼n̮̒̕ ̷̣ͫṱ̃͘o͍̍̀ ̡̫̍s̹̓͟u͍ͤ͘î͙͝c͉̃͡i̧̫ͩd̙̿͟ę͖̓,̴̟ͪ ̢̭ͦḓͮ́r͍͛͟o͓͗̕v̥̏͡e͙̍̀ ̸̞ͩm̨͈͌y̛̹̐ ̢̱ͦf̨̙̊â҉̤t͔̏͘h̹͋́e̜ͥ͝r̈́͏̳ ̯͌͠tͣ҉̳o̸̺̐ ̨̥̆s͓̿̕u̟ͭ͝ï̩̕c̶̬̑i͓̎͝ḏ̃͠e̸̗ͭ!̦ͭ͘ ̰ͦ́Ị̵ͫ ̶̜ͧw̨̖ͦi͓̓͝s̸̬ͦh̡̺̉ ̧̦̈I̡͇̎ ̻̾̕n̢͓̋e̷͔̒v͎͗͟e̬ͩ͘ṟ̢͋ ͉̏͡h̼ͯ͞a̶̼͑d̻́̀ ̙ͪ͞h̬͑͢e̶̤̾r̹̅͟.̷̪ͤ ̴̲͌Ỉ̘̕ ͎̄͢s̴̺̋h̵̘̿ŏ̹͞ṷ̧͑ḻ̄͝d̆҉̞ ̨̖̽h͉ͧ͡a̸̖͗ṿ͌͡e̶̜͆ ̨̜̿h̷̳͂á҉̼ḋ̻͘ ̶̝ͩt̊͏̩h̝͂͘ẻ͖͟ ͇̎͝a̭̒̕b̪ͫ͜ǫ̺̏r̭͗͝t̵͍ͯi̓͏̹ỏ̻͝n̼̋͞.͈ͥ́ ̿҉͉Y͇͒͟ȍ̧̮ų̭͆ ̸̟̓k̨̠̚i̱̓̕l̳͑͟l̡̻̂ȩ̻̅d̦ͫ͟ ̵̙ͮh̳͊͡e͙͛͟r̼̂̀!̨̗͌ ̢͔ͬH̫͛͜o̰͒͜ẘ̢̲ ̢̠͂c̷̼̆oͩ͏͔u̹͛͞l̽҉̥ḏ̛̈ ̷̹̑y̛̪̓ô҉̤ù҉͍ ̸̳̚f̛̜͛ů̗͢c̸̾ͅk̴͇ͧi̶͈̍n̡͈̒g̨̜̈ ̧̳̿d̦͑͜o̴̠ͣ ̱̆̀t̅͏͚h̭̓͝i̷̯̽s̸̱ͥ!ͪ͏̰?̢̘͛ ̢̦̍A̢̪͛n͓̊͟s̱̃́w̺͆͡e̥͌͡r̡̻̂ ̫ͦ̀m̝̑͡ë̹͢!̢͖̚

We cover our ears because the sounds won't stop growing louder and louder, and Maruki's left holding his head like he's got a headache - and Mastema cups his face, stroking the space underneath his eyes with her thumbs. Her long pointed nails very nearly dig into his eyeballs.

"You are a deluded man with a savior complex, dressed in a piss-yellow unitard. A man with a head your size ought to be dragging his skull along the ground due to its weight. Of everyone here I find you the most wretched and despicable. Using your bones to gather pig feces and slop would be the most productive thing I could ever think do with you. What do you possibly think that speaking to her could possibly do?"

I let loose a shot right next to the both of them, one so loud she can't help but ignore me. "Get away from him."

Mastema looks at me, lets out a smile. "And you. Futaba is not the only failure here, is she? Have you come here to absolve yourself? You drag yourself through terror so nightmarish it ought to freeze your bones, and yet you pull yourself through it out of your human greed and your human need for any kind of salvation. You held the world in your hands and let it slip through your fingers - is this your great second chance at redemption?"

Back of my teeth grind against each other as Niijima grabs my arm and I say, "No."

"My daughter is a living nest of sin and horror. A plague unto herself. Her heart is made of stone. Even to herself her existence is a misery. But if you truly think you can save her... if you think yourselves capable of moving mountains and shattering the stars. Then be our guest."

She stretches out an arm, gestures behind her, and we see a set of bright and golden eyes.

From out of fucking hammerspace it seems. Messy black hair, tatters for clothes - a Pharaoh of rags and sackcloth. Tears of blood stream out her eyes and she stares at us like she no longer knows who she is or what she's doing here at all.

"Sakura-san!" Maruki pushes himself away from Mastema, crawls over to the Shadow and grabs her shoulders. Gently, gently he has her kneel down to his level and she lowers herself. Both of them are steeped in blood but that doesn't bother Maruki in the slightest - what bothers him is the idea this girl will kill herself and he won't be able to stop it. "Sakura-san, Futaba, look at me. Look at me, just - just look at me."

She isn't, of course. Her eyes are facing him but they're not looking at him.

"Futaba, what is it that you want!?" She doesn't answer him. "Listen to me. I know what it means to lose someone you care about! I know what it means to lose everyone you've ever cared about!"

"Do you?" she says finally, eyes almost bulging out her head as her pupils shift over to him. "Tell me, how you know. Tell me, so I won't murder the world."

"My fiancee's parents died right in front of me and her!" He shouts, "Her name was Rumi! I-I knew her ever since I was a child - I was, I was with her in elementary, in high school, in college - she stayed with me all my life, held my hand when my father died of an illness, let me cry on her shoulder when my mother died of an aneurysm - I told her, I, I told her I'd marry her and she said yes and she looked so happy when I proposed, but when we went to her parents' house to break the news a burglar broke in and killed them both and almost killed her and drove her to a depression where she couldn't even look or speak to me without remembering...!"

Maruki is crying now, so relentlessly even I'm on the verge of tears myself. All the pain this man's gone through - and I, being the horrible shit that I am, have put him through so much more.

"In the hospital, I took her by the hand and she begged, she pleaded for any God that could ever exist out there, to take all the pain away. To, to just rip it right out of her mind - she looked like she'd die right then and there if nobody gave her what she asked for, if nobody gave her what she needed - so I did it. I took it from her, Futaba. I can take it from you, too. Do you understand what it is I'm telling you!?"

Immediately, I understand nothing of what he's saying. "Maruki, what...?"

"What are you saying...?" Futaba Sakura looks more confused than anything else, her eyes clenching as if experiencing the worst headache of her life.

"You don't have to do this, you can just forget any of this, any of this at all. You don't want to die, we know you don't, I know you don't."

"You don't know what I want."

"You want to be free of this! All this pain, this anger, this depression that swallows you whole - you want to be free of it, forever! We can give you that! Just, just tell me you want that! Tell me you're willing to let it go! Ask me to take everything inside you want gone and I'll get rid of-!"

The sound is what you get when a five foot wide and ten foot long sword plunges through the fattest pig alive. It's enough to stun me and the rest of them into silence, for it happens so quickly I think I might have blacked out, but I didn't. I almost wish I did.

Futaba Sakura's hand has been raised, and she says, "You lie."

Mastema has grown twice her size now, and her hand has run through Maruki's torso - so massive her fingers are that two of them have gored through his left lung, and the other two have torn open his stomach.

"MARUKI!"

She tosses his body over to us and when she does we all of course rush over. Niijima and everyone else calls out for him as Yoshizawa cries horribly - we're all frantic as the cat dashes to his gored torso and I see his ribs, folded and broken, I see the open hole in his stomach spill out long strands of his guts, and he ought to be dead by now but he is somehow someway still alive, still able to speak -

Of all the things he says the thing I hear most is Rumi, even as the light slowly vanishes from his eyes. I move in closer to heal him as Mastema swipes across a gigantic hand, scattering the whole lot of us away from the dying golden man -

Satanael fires a thousand shots at her as I let loose an unholy scream, but I stop when I realize her wings can shield her from the blast, and I fear the shots may deflect upon everyone else-

"All of you, liars and Thieves alike. None of you can bring us the peace we seek," Mastema says, almost disappointed that we can't. She rises up and out the pit with a sleeping Futaba Sakura in her gigantic arms. "I am God's Persecutor. The Angel of Death, chosen to grant those ordained from On High their deserved sweet release. My daughter seeks to join me in death, and you would deprive her of that joy? To the deepest Hell with you all."

The two fly, they fly up and out of the pit and within seconds brick and mortar come alive and seal away our ticket out of here in less time than it'd take for you to blink twice.

"NO!" Niijima cries and I rush over to Maruki-

"Takamaki, keep the light on!"

"O-okay...!"

I rush over to his opened corpse-that-I-hope-isn't-a-corpse and he's somehow still breathing even though his lungs are drowning in their own blood - I'm grateful to God that he isn't dead and I make the words Victory Cry charge through my head upon pressing my hands upon his open chest.

When I wake up I pull myself over to him and see that his wounds are healed, that he's barely breathing, that I got to him in just the nick of time and that makes me the happiest man alive for perhaps only one second.

Then I look at the murals, and I see blood seeping down from the red wall. I see the corpses of frogs glimmering in a way walls shouldn't, as if the surface of the image has become three dimensional and casts its own shadows. The flies and gnats and maggots and locusts begin moving - one by one, then by tens, then by dozens, then by hundreds. The animal carcasses tremble and start collapsing from the wall, as if they'd been hung there when they had been painted on. The flesh sacks swell a dozen times their size as a block of hail charges from the thunderstorm and crashes right at our feet.

And they all come rushing out the paintings, each in a flood. In seconds the blood and the dead flies and the corpses of everything else rise to our thighs and everyone's reduced to screaming - horse corpses and maggots and insects of all kinds in the waste and viscera and iron enters my eyes and nose and lungs, and Niijima shouts "EVERYONE!" as diseased blood charges into her mouth- "PERSONAS CHARGE THE CEILING, NOW!"

Niijima's gotten herself and Johanna up the stairs before she's even finished barking out, and everyone in their desperation has their Personas rush up in a mad dash, carrying us up from the floodwaters along with them. Satanael fires twice at the ceiling and the bricks crack but don't break, yet once all six charge simultaneously the crack turns into a full-on open hole.

In seconds we burst through and we've all got pains in our arms and upper bodies, but we charge out all covered in blood, landing safely at the base of the Sphinx. From the pit, a massive crimson geyser shoots upward with enough force such that had we remained trapped in the red ocean of corpses, our bodies would have splattered against the ceiling and been undone

When the geyser dies down, raining down on us are shattered cow skulls and splintered horse skeletons and dead insects and the withered flesh of toads, and I've never been happier to remember that once we exit the Palace all this horrible grime will be off us - though we'll likely be sick with disease for months.

I realize now I'm gripping Maruki by the coat, and if I had forgotten to hold onto him in all the chaos he'd be actually fucking dead, and it'd have been my fault.

It's evening once we return to the real world - a very late sunset setting.

After that we decide it's not worth it to finish the Palace today. We scramble to figure out what to do with Maruki, until Sakamoto opens his phone and learns the nearest clinic is just across from Sakura's house.

Maruki has no open wounds and his blood level is fine, but he did just get impaled throughout his whole torso, and I'm anxious as to why he's sleeping like a log. It's a risk to get him checked out at a place so close to Sakura's house but fuck it. This will be over sooner or later, and he needs immediate medical attention.

"He should be fine, but he should rest for a while. Give him a few days, maybe a week or more. Lots of vegetables and meat. Needs iron in his system. Is he anemic?"

"N-not that he's ever told me, no."

"I see. Has he been getting sleep?"

"...I wouldn't think so. He's been... preoccupied with work."

"So sleep deprivation is likely the root of this. In case he is anemic, I'll prescribe you something, where'd my pen go...?"

The doctor (?) at this place has thick dark lipstick and eye makeup, with deep blue hair. Her clothes underneath the doctor's coat are rather unbefitting of a lady in her profession, least of all her four-inch high heels, but I'm not complaining. I'm just happy we got Maruki any medical help whatsoever. And she's even letting him stay in the bed she reserves for when patients need the rest. Luckily, Maruki awakens ten minutes after we've gotten him in bed. Surprisingly enough.

But he's so groggy he's unable to really walk or form coherent sentences with more than one or two words. The doctor advises him to remain in bed for at least the night, and Maruki's unable to really accept the offer, because by the time she suggests this he falls right back asleep.

It's at this point I realize I've made a mistake, rushing him here - for I have set Maruki in a doctor's clinic right next to the house of the woman who wants him and everyone else associated with me to suffer an overwhelming amount of punishment they really don't deserve. It was a decision made in horror and fear that perhaps the Victory Cry didn't work. That I might have healed his broken body too late, and we just had to make absolutely sure he wasn't dead or at least wouldn't die anytime soon. It was a miracle he survived that long with a gored open stomach at all.

She hands me a medical certificate, along with her business card. "I'll let you know in case anything's changed. Contact me at this number."

Name on the card reads Tae Takemi. "Thank you for all this."

"It's my job." She sticks out a hand. "That's five thousand yen."

We pool enough money from each other to come up with the funds and Maruki has a place to sleep for the night. We, being horribly traumatized teenagers with scant remaining funds to go around, have no idea what the fuck else we could possibly do, but we can't stay near proximity of Sakura's house. Can't go to Leblanc either or the owner'll chew me out for not showing up to work, and even if that doesn't happen Sakura's bugged the fucking place so we can't even have a conversation.

Once we get out the small clinic, Sakamoto, Takamaki, and Yoshizawa look like they've seen a thousand warzones - Niijima's doing slightly better, but doing slightly better than PTSD of the highest order doesn't account for much. What could I say to any of them? What time do we meet up tomorrow? Do any of them even want to return to the Palace? Could I ask it without Futaba Sakura listening in and asking what the hell we're talking about?

What have I done?

I've stuffed Maruki in a fucking bed just a walk away from the house of the woman who wants to destroy our lives for the sake of her own anger and resentment. An anger that will swallow her, cause her to destroy herself in no uncertain terms, perhaps whether or not we do something.

"We're fortunate Maruki has a strong will," says the cat. "But it was smart of you to bring him to a clinic, just to be safe."

"What...?"

"The strong-willed have a tendency to survive more gruesome injuries in a Palace. The weak-willed don't. Lucky for me I found some of the strongest wills in the city."

I exhale, not caring much for a revelation that really should have been brought up to us sooner. "You should go, all of you."

"I won't leave you," says Niijima.

I turn to her. "Your sister must be worried. I'll stay here with Maruki."

"My sister's busy at work. I can afford this." She says this like she's not going to argue with me on this point, like I just have to accept it.

"This is all my doing. You should be as far away from this as you can be."

"I'm not leaving you."

She approaches me, she's exhausted and scared and sad and a little angry yet she still finds it in herself to show a concern in her eyes I don't deserve - not just for me, but for everyone else here, and something inside me I'm almost unwilling to acknowledge just wants to embrace her and then leave her alone forever.

"I'm not leaving here, either," says Yoshizawa.

"The more of us stay here, the more Sakura'll get aggravated."

"Let her," Takamaki cuts in. "She won't be bold enough to call us up while we're all right in front of her house."

"Don't say that, she'll prove you wrong-"

"Whatever. I'll be here with you as long as I can."

Sakamoto just turns away and groans. "I'll go find us a vending machine. Get us something to drink..."

"I shouldn't have brought him here, we're...," I shudder, whispering as my hand trembles, "we're too close to the fucking house, I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm just so fucking stupid, I..."

"It's okay...," Niijima grabs onto my hand and it ceases instantly, "you're just doing your best. We've all been doing our best."

She's wrong, of course. If I had ever done my best, none of this would have happened. For, Kana would still be alive, and none of them would have to suffer for my mistakes.

Then the phone at my hip buzzes. Niijima and I look at each other, our hearts stopping at the sound alone. Sakamoto, who's returned with a water bottle and two softdrinks, sees our expressions, which leads to Takamaki and Yoshizawa and the cat turning to us, tipping everyone off that something's gone wrong. I have half a mind to just ignore the buzz for now, out of sheer ruthless anger and spite, but considering where we are and what's happened to us lately I pull it open. She looms over my shoulder, and immediately turns away at the sight.

The latest message is another gif, this time of a kitten that's being devoured by a pitbull. The dog's fangs bite down on the little mewling thing and it's soundlessly thrashed about like a chew toy. Blood smattering everywhere as its neck becomes undone, its head and body dangling and twitching as the pitbull continues biting down. I've received seven gifs depicting consistent degrees of animal cruelty through text messages that haven't loaded until now, because we've all been stuck inside this girl's Palace for the past four hours. Interspersed throughout these gifs are messages that range from short curses to full-on essays about the things she's going to do to me and my friends.

How furious is she with us? How much could one person possibly hate us, and what could it compel her to do?

Apparently, call us up, even though we're standing right outside her fucking house.

You, and your fucking friends, leave this neighborhood right fucking now. Or I send half of each of your bank accounts to charities.

Niijima and I look at each other. I turn to everyone else here, and they all silently agree.

We do as she says. For now. Cat following us close behind.

She has us go all the way to the fucking station entrance. Then she calls us again.

You wretched little sons of fucking crack whores. How big are your fucking balls, that you would stand right outside my fucking house? Come to my goddamn neighborhood and think you can accomplish fucking anything? I tracked your fucking phones all the way here, then you disappear and you show up again four fucking hours later!? What the hell did you do, who did you collude with to hide your signals, what is all this fucking nonsense you're talking about with Palaces and saving me and crying about Kana, like you all gave a shit!?

I think to give her a piece of my mind, but before I do, it's Niijima who grabs my phone outta my hands. I try to grab it back and everyone starts freaking out, Takamaki even cries out What the fuck are you doing but Niijima talks over her loud and clear, "Sakura-san, listen to me-"

NO YOU LISTEN, you fucking hooker bitch, the guy you're slobbering your fucking tongue all over is a stupid worthless piece of fucking pigshit who deserves to rot in Hell forever and ever and ever - and so do all of you for even fucking knowing him, all of you deserve the worst you'll ever get in your goddamn lives-

"We know about your mother!" Niijima cries, hands trembling as she remains gripping the phone. "We know what happened that day, the day she died! We know everything! Would you just hear us out!?"

Shut up, shut the fuck up, I swear to God I'll kill each and every last one of you-

I grab the phone, struggle with it, "Niijima wait, stop-" and she just pushes me away.

"What we told you your mother was right about cognitive science!?"

Silence. For a number of seconds. None of us can hear anything anymore, for we've focused ourselves on the phone and her voice.

It's psience. With a P-S-I in front, you stupid bitch.

Niijima exhales. "Your mother researched the existence of cognitive worlds that exist as a result of human unconsciousness. What if I told you she was right!? And what if I told you we could prove it!?"

You're distracting me, you don't know shit, you're saying things you don't properly understand, don't fucking talk like you know me you wretched little whore-

As Sakura rants I realize what Niijima's planning. I realize it from the moment she looks in my eyes, staring at me over Sakura's profane shouting. Niijima's already burnt the bridge we could use to escape.

So the only way forward is to see this through, to the very end.

"Your mother's name was Wakaba Isshiki," I interrupt. "She performed extensive research on the existence of a cognitive world. You'd go into her workspace as a child and you'd skim through each and every one of her books - you memorized all their titles because the subject interested you and you wanted to show your mother you were interested. She'd be busy at work for most of your childhood and you asked her, you asked her to take you out on a trip somewhere. You wanted to do something more than eat convenience store bentos and you wanted to spend time with your mother because you loved her, and you loved her because she did everything in the name of taking care of you. You remember her screaming at you and shouting at you and telling you you're selfish, but you've forgotten how she'd care for you, take you into her arms every time you'd cry, console you and let you go at your own pace, because she loved you. And you know she loved you, you know she did, and you know that if she was alive today she'd love you still!"

For once Futaba Sakura has nothing to say. For a good few seconds we wait for a response but nothing comes. So I decide to pile on, because we've crossed a dozen lines now and we're desperate and we're scared and we need this to work.

"You pulled her by the back of her shirt while you were just a small little girl, no older than ten, and you remember her saying Don't be so selfish! You know I'm working hard to support you, right!? But you've, you've forgotten - you forgot what she said after that! She said-"

She said, I promise you. Once I'm finished here, I'll be able to find some time for us to go somewhere. We can have as long a trip as you want.

I'm stunned into silence again, we all are. And she continues talking.

I... I forgot about that. No, I... always remembered, but... I wouldn't let myself remember. How did you...? How could...? Oh my God, I... I...

"Sakura-san...," Niijima mutters, pulling the phone closer to herself. "Futaba. Please. Listen to me. We've entered your cognitive world. We couldn't have known any of this otherwise. You may think we're lying, but you of all people should know we're telling you the truth. We've seen the world inside your own heart. You've swallowed down so many painful, terrible memories - the things you've endured, I can't even imagine. We know you don't want any of this. You've never wanted any of this, you've never wanted to hurt anybody!"

So what do I want, huh? she says spitefully, hatefully, her throat full of fire, If you've seen my fucking heart, what do I want!? You stupid fucking bitches, all of you, tell me - WHAT DO I WANT!?

"You want to be free," she says, before I can, and the way she says all this she says it on the verge of tears. "But most of all... most of all, you don't want Sojiro Sakura, your father, to find you... dead in your room."

Once more she's stuck silent for a good long while.

Then we hear her voice, unmodulated for the first time.

Kazuya Hikawa comes to my house, alone.

"Wh-what...?"

I want a word with him, alone, in person. You can stand outside if you want. But he comes through my front door and into my room, so I can give him a piece of my mind.

"When do you want this-"

Now. Right now.

"What - Sakura-san!"

Then she hangs up.

We try calling the number, again and again and again, but to no avail.

Niijima looks at me, they all look at me, absolutely horrified for my well-being. Niijima's afraid she's made a mistake again, and she very well might have.

But it'll only be a mistake...if I can't pull this off.