Oh wow, it's alive! I'm alive? Or am I? I don't know what I'm saying, but I do know this took a long time. Sorry, I've been putting most of my effort into finishing up Death From Within, and I think that's showing, towards the end of this chapter especially. Or maybe I'm overcritical of myself. Who knows?
Mr Person: I know you mean well, but it's rather rude to show up to another story I'm writing and go, "when are you going to finish this one instead?" When I wrote solely DFW, I began resenting it. One of the 20 reasons why updates have been so slow. It'll get finished even it's the last thing I do, goddammit.
Stoopid Person: thank you.
Home.
It was an odd choice of words coming from that parasite, Minato thought to himself. This was the place he was from—where he was born—but nothing more than that now.
Now, it's nothing more than a deserted island with old relics surrounding him. It wouldn't surprise him if they were the first people here ever since the Advent.
Yet, despite this, Minato could still hear the rumblings of man at the back of his mind. So many voices speaking to the point of incomprehensibility—all except the ones that are reaching out to his ear specifically.
Casting the thoughts aside, Minato's thoughts returned to the present, gazing upon the large tower looming over them.
Tartarus, he and his friends would call it. Once this tower would only appear during the Dark Hour. As time went on, the veil separating it from reality began deteriorating with this tower in the center of it all.
No one comes here anymore. Not even Nyarlathotep, a fact that puzzles him. There's something about that tower that repels his shadows and people alike.
Everyone and everything, except for him and the things dwelling within it.
"Arisato-san?"
The girl calls out to him, snapping him from his trance. He can't afford to get distracted now; he has a job to do. He looks at the girl staring back at him, expressing concern.
He needs to find out what to do with her. Will he be able to find a place for her in less than a month? Unlikely, but what does he do then?
"I'm fine," he shrugs. The cuts sting when they brush against his clothing and he knew he was going to be feeling sore very soon, but he can keep those details to himself for now.
An old building caught his attention. To the average bypasser, the building would look the same as any other. Surprisingly standing, like many other relics of the days long past but frozen over and rundown.
The glass from the windows was long since broken. Whether it was from the cold, a desperate looter ages ago, or a mix of both was a mystery no one knew the answer to.
But to others? This building and many others held something else—something that can never be replaced.
"Let's go," Minato doesn't look at Saki when he gives the order, nor does he wait for her to catch up to his gait, desperate to leave this place.
"Leaving so soon?" Death feigns a pout in his ear. He tries to ignore it, but the chuckles told him how wasted his attempt was.
"Wow," Saki thought, gawking in amazement at her surroundings. Despite the damage, she never saw a city like this. Looking through the windows, she could catch glimpses of what life was like before she was born.
So many places had these weird boxes set against a wall. When she asked Mr. Arisato, he waved her off saying they were "TVs." But what's a TV? When she asked, he responded, "we're not here to play twenty questions."
"Meanie," Saki thinks to herself. He's so mean she won't even call him Arisato-san in her thoughts! It might not be a good idea to say it out loud though, she might get in trouble then.
What must life have been like back then, she finds herself wondering. They pass a park where kids like her would play, buried under snow and ice. How many more pieces of the past were lying beneath the ice? What must it have been like to play with other kids with your family watching, all under the hot sunshine beaming down at you?
It all sounds like a fairy tale to her. Surely some of what she's been told must be made up, right? There's no way that people made "planes" to fly, right? Only birdies could do that!
"Hmm," Saki hums to herself, "what does a real-life bird look like?" She's only ever seen old drawings in kids' books with weird scribbles she couldn't understand. What must their feathers feel like? She bets they must be soft—
Saki is snapped back to reality when she bumps into Mr. Arisato, having frozen in place like a statue. Confused, she calls out to him, "Arisato-san?"
Her question is met only with silence. He remains frozen stiff, nothing but shallow breathing to prove that he was alive.
She follows the direction of his gaze, seeing an old bridge in the distance—or rather, what was left of one. Even from this distance, it was apparent that something happened on that bridge, leaving it in ruins for time and nature to reclaim it.
A voice speaks from behind her, sending a chill down her spine. "He can't hear you right now, Saki."
She turns around. Standing before her was a ghostly figure, towering over her with a startling grin on its face and chains wrapped around what could only be the creature's neck.
The creature seemed to take note of her unease, shrinking its body until it was roughly head-to-head with her, though still hovering above the ground with the cloak making up its main body barely scraping against the snow.
"My apologies," the creature bows its head, "you haven't met me yet, but I've been with you for some time now. I have many names, but you may call me Pharos."
The girl doesn't respond. Any words forming are becoming caught in her throat as the creature looks at her expectantly. She doesn't know what to do! She doesn't know what's going!
She looks back at Minato, hoping that he would come back from whatever it was that has possessed him. Minato remains frozen, unaware of his surroundings of the daemon communing with the young girl.
"He's someplace else right now," Pharos notes, and Saki hears a faint chuckle coming from it. "He's just thinking about the night he and I met.."
That catches her interest. "The night you… met?"
Pharos nods. "Oh yes. I've been with him a long time now—much longer than I would like, but I am a prisoner."
"Prisoner?" She repeats.
"Yes," it affirms. "The intricate nature of everything is beyond your ability to understand. Just know this: I am an old entity that has been sealed within Minato Arisato for years. The seal has weakened enough that I can muster enough strength to manifest and converse with you."
The mannerisms of the creature leave her bewildered, having used words she hadn't heard before and is attempting to decipher their meaning. The creature tilts its head, perhaps seeing the confusion in her expression.
"I am connected to Minato Arisato. The seal binding us has lost some strength, so I can talk if I will it."
"But," that left one question on her mind, "why? What do you want?"
"From you? Nothing." Pharos answers, shaking its head. "I merely wanted an introduction, and perhaps… a warning."
"Warning?" It knew the words to catch her attention. Though, perhaps the words were a little too ambiguous?
"He won't hurt you, perish the thought." Pharos suppresses another chuckle, finding the sense of irony in such an idea amusing. "You and he are the same—orphaned children with no one to turn to. He'll try to get rid of you, but he won't; he can't, even if he doesn't know it yet."
Saki's expression betrayed more confusion with more questions forming in her mind. Before she could ask any, Pharos interrupts her.
"My warning is for your ears but not for your heart. Minato is chasing a ghost and he knows it. He's walking a road without an end; a quest with no goal. He walks where his feet carry him, waiting until they bleed."
"Then why won't he stop?" she asks on impulse. "If it's hurting him, then why doesn't he stop!"
"The same reason you won't ask about your friends." Pharos cuts sharply, leaving a brief silence for the girl to absorb her words. "Facing one's past is a difficult thing for any human. Most let it be their demise, and I would find his to be rather… unpleasant." It stresses the last word in a hiss, oozing with bitter but restrained rage.
Pharos turns his head, a single eye giving attention to his living prison. "Now, there's no need to reveal any of this to him, is there?" It hums before making a shushing sound, "it'll be our little secret. Now, get ready. He'll be back soon."
Not giving her a time to respond, the creature's body begins turning translucent, fading away while flashing its grin that spreads from cheek to cheek. Even after its form disappeared, Saki felt its presence linger, creating a sense of unease that refuses to dissipate.
The smell.
There's nothing like it. Nothing else can equal that horrid stench that fills the air.
The smell of burning flesh floods his nostrils, twisting Minato's stomach in a knot. If it wasn't the aroma, then it was the sound of skin sizzling in his ear that made him want to fall to his knees.
Red bathes the car he's in. Red with bits of white from the bone he sees; bones that are fractured, allowing him to see the marrow.
Minato looks at his hands. More of the red, but there's not a cut on him. He's alive.
Why? Why is he alive? Why is he alive when everyone around him dies?
A voice reaches him, one that doesn't use words. His name is never said, yet he feels it calling to him.
His breath hitches, caught in his throat. A metallic taste lingers on his tongue becoming stronger, almost as if it were becoming bathed in more of the red.
What began as a taste became something more. A liquid began filling his mouth, spilling down his throat and choking him.
Minato gasps for air; one hand reflexively grasping his throat while the other claws at his chest. His body fights, desperately trying to breathe.
Trickles of the substance escape past his lips, some even flowing down out his nose. The voice he hears taunts him.
Fingers and hands go numb. Darkness creeps from the corner of his eyes. The numbness spreads. The only thing he feels is a cold embracing him with welcoming arms.
Is this what the end is like? Is this what they felt in their final moments?
He doesn't feel his arms fall limp. Minato only hears the voice's taunting become soothing—a comforting presence, encouraging him to let go.
His eyes become heavy. The abyss swallows him in its cold but comforting embrace, carrying him away while easing his troubled mind. All the weight on his shoulders was nothing more than a distant memory; voices call his name, welcoming him.
Suddenly, he stops. Something has caught hold of his arm, pulling and stopping him in his tracks. The abyss does not relent, whispering in Minato's ear and urging him to give in.
He's fought so hard and for so long. He deserves a rest. All he has to do is...
"No."
He can't. Not now.
Take the bile and swallow it down.
Grit your teeth through the pain of the abyss sinking its desperate claws into you. Never stop, even when it starts tearing through your flesh as you try to break free.
Block it out. Shut the door and do not look back. Keep it barred and never let them in.
And whatever you do, never listen to the voices calling your name. If you do, if you allow them to gain that level of a foothold, they'll take away a piece of you that you can never hope to get back.
But remember, they'll be back. They always come back.
A sudden surge of electricity coursed through Minato, tensing every muscle of his body. Shaking his head and blinking away the darkness, he's greeted by a tugging sensation on his arm.
"What the?" Looking down, he sees the girl clutching his arm. Does she have a worried expression on her face—concerned for him?
"Wakey, wakey, Arisato," the thought was interrupted by the last voice he would ever wish to hear. "We were getting worried. Look at that poor girl's tears forming! Isn't that sweet?"
The ever-so-smug parasite. Minato gives a noncommittal grunt, yanking his arm free. He's only been here for a few minutes and this place was already bringing back bad memories. He needs to get out of here before his mind starts wandering to anymore places he's left buried. Bringing two fingers to his temple, he moves forward as he pushes the intrusions to the back of his mind.
The girl lingers for a moment, staring at his back. What is she? Concerned? Confused? Both? Does it matter?
Now wasn't the time to think about it. "Move it," he commands her, not stopping or slowing his pace. The only thing he gives her is a brief glance back, tilting his head to beckon her on.
First priority will have to be taking care of that. They were already on a time limit but this is an added complication he didn't need. Leaving her somewhere is risky; besides what happened to her previous home, there's no telling what his new friends will do if they find her.
Naturally, his only option currently is his worst one. He needs help, which means finding him again.
"It won't be hard," Minato thought. "He's anything but subtle."
"Easy for you is child's play for them," Death reminds him, but then its words become accompanied by a growl. Its words are now directed at something else entirely. "Sending sacks of meat to stop me? Me?! No, you know that won't work. What's your game, Chaos? What O' what are you planning?"
"Another one!" The feline cheers.
Normally the sentiment would be welcomed, appreciated even. But now, Akira is face down on the floor, supporting himself with his arms and doing several push-ups at Morgana's behest. This was, of course, after sit-ups, jumping jacks, and many, many other painful means of torture.
'You need to keep up your strength while you recover!' he said. "We can't have the leader of the Phantom Thieves be as limp as a noodle when he makes his triumphant return!'
Akira can't help but feel this is the opposite of what someone recovery from inhaling dust and debris should be doing. Or as his wobbling arms are telling, this isn't something anyone should be doing.
"Just keep thinking of how much harder you'll be able to throw that cat after this," he gave himself the only motivation he needed. That sadistic little furball keeps coaching him, demanding that he push on 'like a true Phantom Thief.'
Muttering and hissing incomprehensible words, Akira gathers the last of his strength. Extending his arms, he raises himself one last time. Arms straight, he survives the feline's torture session… before promptly collapsing face-first on the floor.
The only sound Akira could make was an enervated whimper, too exhausted to cry about the nose he was almost certain was now broken; another injury to add to the long list.
Morgana winces at the sight of the boy on the floor. "Um, are you alive?"
"No thanks to you," Akira barks back, lifting his head just enough so that his voice was clear before burying his face back into the cold floor.
Groaning in both pain and exertion, the boy rolls onto his back. His arms remain limp, too sore to obey his commands. With the last of his strength, he crunches himself up and stands.
More screaming throughout his entire body. The soreness of his arms now gives way to numbness as long as he lets them hang.
The raven-haired boy glares at smug-looking Mona, "If I could feel my arms, I would toss you out that window."
Mona gives a noncommittal hum, following Akira who made his way down the stairs. Ryuji had gone to Takemi yesterday and it was about time he checked in on him.
With anything luck, he'll be able to walk again. Akira wonders how they should celebrate the occasion. Maybe Haru can arrange something?
The thought was cut short by an unexpected guest sitting downstairs in an old booth.
The familiar young man sits in one of the old booths. the steaming cup set on the table tells Akira that this boy was expecting to wait here for some time, or had been waiting for him. He smiles back at the boy, "Why, hello there! How nice to see you again?"
Mona tilts his head. "Again?"
The sentiment is shared by Akira, thinking back to the past few weeks. A single face comes to mind.
"Right, I remember," Akira returns, "Akechi, right? We met when I last visited Haru."
Akechi's smile widens slightly, seemingly pleased with his answer. "I'm glad you remembered. It's not every day I get to meet a friend of the Okumura's."
"Yeah," Akira replies in a long drawl. "So you just show up… at my home… unannounced. This isn't creepy at all."
Akechi nods, looking somewhat contrite. "I apologize. I was sent to interview those present during the attack from that creature. When I saw you lived close by and remembered your association with Kunikazu Okumura's daughter, I thought you would be the best place to start."
"And you break into my house unannounced?" Akira raises a skeptical eyebrow. "No offense, but your interviewing skills need work."
"Unfortunate," Akechi unexpectedly concedes to the statement. "But before I do that, I believe it's important, to be honest with one another," he says, placing a briefcase on the table beside his drink.
A chill runs up Akira's spine. This doesn't bode well.
What's in there? A thousand thoughts and possibilities come to mind. Pictures from a camera he hadn't seen? A personal item he left behind at a scene without knowing? Or worse, something tying one of the others?
What did he do? What mistake did he make?
"Uh…" he feels his heart sink and every hair on the back of his neck stand up. "This is very ominous. You are really bad at this."
The brunette chuckles, finding some enjoyment in his sense of humor—a familiar sense of a humor. Humor was a common response to stress, no?
"Be that as it may," his hands reach for the briefcase, undoing its latches, "I'm more interested about yourself."
Suddenly, the area is overtaken by a familiar green haze.
Sorry this took so long. Life's been rough, though I think that applies to everyone nowadays. But I'm glad to see this fic getting a minor following/audience despite the little attention I've been giving it.