Oh, yeah, I'm still here. Went through a few things, lost a dear friend of mine due to stupid decisions I made, and landed myself in therapy. Needless to say, reality's been a bitch.

Minato's eyes remained focusing on the butterfly dancing around them. It said nothing, instead choosing to continue circling them like a harmless insect, but there was no question as to who or what that was.

"What's wrong?" The man's question was less of an inquiry and more of an insult, "don't tell you're afraid of insects now."

This wasn't the time or place to lose his nerve. He didn't just have his life to think about now; one wrong move and it could be the end of hers as well. Although, it would be foolish to believe that this would show clemency and let them leave unmolested if he did nothing.

Whoever this man is, he's holding a katana in his right hand. Either this is a false sign that he meant no harm, or it was a sign that he was left-handed. If that was true, then he would have the edge in close-quarters. Combine that with whatever abilities Nyarlathotep gave him, then this is likely a fight he doesn't want, at least not now.

Behind the leader, a woman and another man were wearing similar outfits, albeit with their masks having a single color of black and white respectively. There were a few minute differences between the three of them; their leader seemed to possess a twin tailcoat, while the woman in the black mask has hers ending in a skirt similar to a dress.

The one with a white mask had a sword at his left hip. The sword looked western―was a foreigner or someone who needed a hand free during combat? Perhaps he was like him and it was a mere matter of personal preference. Either way, the sword being secured at his left marks him as right-handed like most combatants.

There were a few knives scattered throughout his frame, the most visible one being on his left shoulder. They looked too small to be reliably used in close quarters against an armed opponent―a knife-thrower, he has to be.

The woman in black had no such easy marks. By all accounts, it would appear as if she had arrived completely unarmed. Unless she was suicidal, she was concealing whatever she may have until the right time or perhaps her talents lied with her persona rather than her talents as a combatant.

"So these are Nyarlathotep's lapdogs?" Minato mused. They don't look too threatening, but in circumstances like this, he wouldn't trust appearances alone, especially when it came to people.

It's too risky to start a fight now. For now, he would have to endure whatever idle boasts they felt like spouting until he could find a way to get Saki out of here.

"Who the hell are you?" Asking for a name was natural and a simple question. Referring to someone solely by their title was going to become pestiferous very quickly.

Chuckling, the man tilted his head saying, "Oh, I think you already know the answer to that." He continued to hum, bobbing his head from side to side as if thinking to himself, "most refer to me as Yamato. I suppose that will do."

"So, not his real name," Minato would have sighed in exasperation if he was in a position to risk angering him. He can't stay on the defensive either, lest he risks cluing him into what he's doing. "Yeah, yeah, very mysterious. What? Did you come here to sound mystical and waste my time?"

"So impatient," Yamoto tsked, "but I understand, fatherhood must be stressful."

"Chikushou (crap)!" That's not good―now his attention is back to her. There was no getting her out of this now.

If he knows about her, then he has to know about him too. "So, that's why you're here? To pick up after that old bastard?"

Yamoto scoffed, seemingly offended at the suggestion, "him? I have been wondering why Ikutsuki has not expired yet to be perfectly honest." Shaking his head, he continued, "I thought it was time we were introduced to one another properly."

Minato blinked, "you hunted me down from your hole in Kyoto for an introduction? " That was certainly a first, at least, the first one that was so blatant.

"That, and a little game."

"Oh, no." Minato summoned his sword, eyes gleaming and prepared to summon. If there's a game, then there's a 'prize,' and there's only one prize that he knows that he'd fight for. "Stay away from her."

"Good, you figured it out," Yamato sounded pleased, "rest assured, *I* won't participate. Killing you now would be… anti-climatic, so to speak." He glanced back, tilting his head as a gesture to his followers, "I think it's time my dog had some exercise."

"Dog?" Minato raised an eyebrow until he noticed he noticed the one in the white mask approaching and drawing his blade.

"Of course," Yamato continued speaking as the other man passed him, "poor Lupine doesn't get to go out much. I thought it was time he had some sort of playmate."

"Lupine?" Minato repeated as the man stopped his advance, standing just far enough away that a short dash was all that would be necessary to close the remaining distance, "your parents must have hated you."

Lupine said nothing, not even giving so much as a gesture in response. "Oh, don't bother," Yamato warned, "he lost his voice ages ago. He's been my silent companion ever since."

"So, a mute?" Minato thought. That might have been pitiable under any other circumstances.

No voice means no banter. No banter means there's no point in insults―it'll be too difficult to tell if anything would be causing him to lose focus or not. The only thing he would accomplish would be wasting their time and potentially leaving himself open.

Lupine―a word relating to wolves. It was probably just a name given to him since he was a mute, or maybe Yamato didn't care for whatever his real one might have been. Wolves were good trackers; was he the one who managed to pin him down? Not impossible, but far too large of a conclusion to draw on his name alone―it's far more likely it's just an insult than a description.

There's a slight hunch in his stance, but subtle enough that it's nothing that Minato could draw any conclusions from. That mask concealing his face made him difficult to read, although the tilt of his head could be used to follow his gaze… directly at the girl behind the bluenette.

His gaze shifted from the girl to him, slighting tilting his head as a gesture. Was this a warning, or a taunt? Whatever the case, he was right.

"Saki," Minato called out to the girl, dropping the large bag in the snow, not daring to turn his head away from the masked man, "if you can, take that bag. Either way, I need you to run right now ."

He couldn't see the look on her face, only hearing a few grunts as she tried lifting the bag. All he could do was keep his focus on the enemy in front of him who seemed content waiting for the girl's departure.

Saki could be heard exhaling a few strained breaths, more than likely having difficulty holding something so heavy but still managing to ask, "B-but… where do I…?"

"Anywhere but here," he ordered, "don't stop for anyone. Don't trust anyone. I'll find you when this is over."

"But…"

"Go!" He growled, earning a brief gasp from the girl.

More strained sounds came from the little one, this time accompanied by footsteps that grew further and further away until all that could be heard by him was the sound of the wind and his own breathing.

Good, she's safe―or at least, safer than if she remained here. Now, he could concentrate on him.

There's still a short dash between them; that leaves him with a short window to react to whatever he does first. Starting with a persona would be risky―too many unknowns in regards to him and what he might be hiding.

Lupine's feet remained firmly planted on the ground, unmoving and waiting, drawing this seemingly into some sort of staring match. If all the focus was on them…

The sound of crackling filled the air as an icy pillar rose and wailed, rising behind and piercing not the figure standing across from him, but Nyarlathotep's so-called champion.

Yamato looked down at the would-be instrument of his doom, and Minato saw with every movement that the ice had gone through him yet hadn't touched him. It had passed through like a blade through the air.

"Hmm," Yamato shrugged, "while I applaud your pragmatism, did you really think I would be foolish enough to come here personally? I have far more important matters than you. "

Well, shit...

Minato was quick to return his attention to the figure now charging at him. Relying on pure instinct, he sidestepped an overhead strike, allowing it to land on the snow beneath them.

But Lupine seemed to have anticipated this, as he was able to quickly halt his momentum before almost throwing himself at the bluenette, ramming his shoulder into him and causing him to slide on the ground, throwing him off balance.

Lupine was determined to keep Minato on his feet. There was hardly any time to breathe before he charged at Minato again, unleashing a flurry of attacks.

His strikes were wild but quick, unpredictable, and had a surprising amount of strength behind them. One after the next, Minato scarcely managed to block the attacks, each one sending him another step back.

Too strong and too fast—it was foolish to take his eyes off of him.

Minato moved to block the attack, but this one was slippery; the blade managed to slide through his guard, slicing into his shoulder.

Hissing through his teeth, Minato felt the attack cutting into his flesh, spilling his blood and painting his hoodie red.

Painful, for sure—but this wasn't the first time he'd been injured. More importantly, the attack left an opening.

As the blade was cutting into his shoulder, Minato used the pommel of his own sword, striking it at his opponent's head.

Lupine recoiled from the strike, sending him backward. It wasn't enough to force to break his mask, but it had disoriented him.

This gave Minato ample to return the favor. Before Lupine could recover, Minato attacked, slicing across his torso. It was hardly more than a flesh wound but that was good enough.

The only sound made by the 'dog' was a weak growl as he stumbled back before catching himself, seemingly not too bothered by the wound inflicted upon him. Tilting his head, Minato watching him recover, taking notice of his eyes—or rather, the lack of visible eyes. Interesting.

Wild but swift strikes that hard difficult to predict—great, it's fighting Sho for the first time all over again. At least there was no Minazuki to complicate things this time.

"Hmm," Minato hummed in thought, briefly wincing as he moved his shoulder. Enough thinking—it was time to act.

The two opponents raised their weapons, locking eye with each other. Under the watchful gaze of Nyarlathotep's champion, they charged.

"Rin," Yamoto spoke, watching the two warriors clash. The masked woman turned her head towards him, listening intently. "Be ready to find the girl."

"Aw," she pouted, no doubt making puffy lips beneath her mask, "Doggie gets all the fun and I get babysitting."

"Hehe," Yamato chuckled, his voice so low that only he could hear it. If things went as he expected, she would have her 'fun' in a few moments. Before that, his dog needed some exercise.

"Yeah, yeah," Akira brushed off the doctor's words, standing from his bed—or whatever you were supposed to call this contraction of torn fabrics with broken pieces of metal inside. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers.

"Akira," Takemi called out his name in another futile effort to have him listen to her words, "We still don't know the extent of the damage to your lungs."

"Good thing I don't run marathons then," Akira muttered through a stifled cough, another act of betrayal from his body. "If I get any worse, I'll let you know. Focus less on me and more on the—whatever-number of people got caught in this mess."

A gesture wasn't necessary. Akira was just one of many patients held in this pseudo-trauma center, with many of the ones surrounding him unable to do so much as walking on their own.

Too many people in critical condition for him to let Takemi worry about him. The place was understaffed as-is; the bastards couldn't spare the time, resources, and/or manpower to deal with the vagrants or the poor.

Who knows, maybe they'll go on about the crippling damage they suffered, too. They'll find any excuse for this little act of Darwinism. If things were this bad here, Akira didn't want to think about what the situation must be in the more devastated regions.

Takemi wanted to argue, naturally, but she knew that he was right. At the very least, it was unlikely that he was going to drop dead in the next couple of hours. By the end of it, she made sure to give him a list of precautions that he should take while he began wondering which of those he was going to ignore first.

"Don't do anything stupid," was the first one to come to mind. Here he was, trying to leave against medical advice.

Maybe Sojiro had a point; with the number of foolish things he does, he really does deserve the acts of cruelty his 'friends' give him. Oh, and after what he did, Oracle was going to kill him. Or worse, maybe she'll ask Queen to do it.

Such a thought sent a shiver down the boy's spine as he continued wobbling his way out, entering what seemed to be a waiting area for those who had family here. He'd been able to see a few of the patients receive visits, most going on about how difficult it was due to them being unable to verify their IDs for some asinine reason or five.

If he had to guess, he would say the real reason was either that they didn't want to show just how dire things were, or they just wanted another chance to screw with people. It's not like either of those would be out of character.

"Akira!"

"Oh crap," he swallowed a lump in his throat. Here he thought that he'd at least have an hour or so before he was murdered, but apparently, Lady Luck wasn't with him today.

A deep exhale quickly became a long drawn out groan. Turning towards the voice, he saw that it was just Mona—his not-a-cat—that had somehow found a way to sneak inside with his head slightly poking out of the bag that Akira usually carried on his person.

Did Morgana find a way to sneak himself and that bag inside without being noticed? "Wow," Akira thought, "that's one sneaky kitty."

The bag was just one of many, thankfully. There were enough people crowding that no one batted an eye when Akira grabbed the bag and turned to leave. Fortunately, there were bag inspections going into the building but none coming out.

Whatever strength that had been keeping the boy standing, however, was waning and he soon found himself nearly collapsing against the wall the moment he reached the outdoors.

Before he could speak, another dry cough erupted from his throat. Covering his mouth with one hand, Akira placed his other on his bag, pulling the zipper and opening it slightly more to reveal his feline friend.

"You okay?"

"Mona," his voice came out hoarse, causing an uncomfortable sensation on his throat, "I feel awful."

"You look awful."

"Hey," Akira looked somewhat offended, "at least I have a great personal—" his childish sarcasm was interrupted by another cough.

The boy was left panting, closing his eyes with the back of his head against the building. The cold hair felt worse than usual with his body breaking into a cold sweat.

Leaving against medical advice was proving to be a horrible idea. Go figure.

"How's everyone… else…?" he managed to get out.

"Ann and Ryuji are fine. They're lucky that… thing didn't reach their homes," Mona was quick to answer, instantly lessening the load on the boy's shoulders, "as for Makoto and Futaba…"

Akira winced, "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"I'll make sure you get a decent burial."

"That reminds me," Akira turned his head, "so, you managed to sneak in?"

"Well, of course," Mona proclaimed proudly in that haughty tone of his, "such an obstacle was nothing to this Phantom Th—"

"But you had no idea when I was going to leave," he pointed out, interrupting the cat, "how long were you there?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Wow," Akira motioned his hands, performing a slow clap, "truly, you are a criminal mastermind. May the world tremble before you, and your unparalleled cunning."

"You're the one who ended up in a hospital!"

"Yeah," Akira nodded, "and I saved the day. Kinda. Sorta. Okay, not really but I did hurt it."

Mona scoffed, rolling his eyes before spitting, "yeah, I wonder who healed you…"

"Yeah, I feed you. Your life belongs to me, kitty-cat," he grinned.

The feline opened his mouth to speak, only to be met with the sound of the raven-haired boy's stomach rumbling. Between now and the last fight, he hadn't had much time to eat anything decent outside of whatever garbage they decided to serve.

Mona seemed to be at least somewhat sympathetic, at least, Akira assumed so judging by his tone when he said, "think we could afford to order some pancakes or something somewhere?"

Akira might've laughed had he not been reminded of the roughness in his throat."You're the one in the bag. You tell me."

Pancakes, what were those again? If he had to guess, they were those weird flappy things that he sometimes saw being served to some of the upper class (or whatever you would call them). That sounds about right to the boy.

For some reason, he doubted that he had enough cards to afford breakfast for himself. Even if he did, he didn't want to think about the labor that was necessary for it to happen. In that case, he should probably skip visiting Haru anytime soon—she would probably not give him a choice.

"Ugh," Akira groaned, "she's almost as bad s you, Mona."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." It was best not to draw any attention to that for her sake. That was another matter he was going to need to settle one of these days but not today.

"Streets are packed," Akira thought, watching the countless people; some were walking out with a limp, and others in tears. Those not trying to visit the makeshift emergency hospital were still affected after the damage The Reaper left in its wake.

Getting through all of this was going to take forever. Luckily, the subway wasn't far from here.

"Mona, we're taking the shortcut," he announced, grabbing the 'Mona-bag' and dragging his feet.

Morgana crawled out some more, exposing enough of his body that his head was resting on the boy's shoulder. "Is that a good idea?" he asked, "you're a mess!"

"Too many people to just drive home," Akira shrugged, "besides, keeping an eye on me is your job, remember? You'll keep me safe."

The boy's words did nothing to soothe his feline friend, only learning more objections that fell on deaf ears until the cat had no choice but to accept it. Once Akira's mind was made up about something, it was nearly impossible to convince him otherwise.

No, instead, it was Mona's job to babysit the dullard and make sure that he didn't need to go to a hospital a second time.

Luckily, the trip went smoothly. One of the few benefits of all this chaos was that there were so many people that it was easy to blend in. There was nothing to see; just another survivor still coughing his lungs out from all the dust and debris he inhaled.

Perhaps he was a relative of the woman crying in front of what used to be her home?

The brother of the kids hearing the last words of their father fading away beneath a pile of rubble?

What about those delinquents? Where there's chaos, there was an opportunity to extort or 'punish' others while the uniforms were busy. They could dress up just like him, waiting for the right opportunity to jump an unsuspecting target.

Fortunately, they arrived at their destination—an old subway station—without incident.

No one uses these anymore; some tunnels are collapsed and they weren't worth the maintenance to keep functioning. Besides, a population was easier to control when they had fewer means of getting around.

There wasn't anything stopping one from entering, however. It was merely just ill-advised due to the possible hazards. Of course, that applied to regular people.

It was a hard thing to describe, despite spending months pondering it. If he focused enough, visible ripples would form in the air and the world would begin to warp around him. The sky would turn a deep red as drops of pink would begin to fall from the sky even if there wasn't a cloud in sight.

Buildings would contort, twisting into various unnatural shapes, some even spiraling. But more notably, other structures seemingly made of bone would erect from the ground. There were various points where these bone structures would begin before ascending higher and higher, almost like they were a flight of stairs leading to something.

Despite this, there was nothing the structure lead to—at least, not visibly from the ground. Either it was hidden from their view on the ground, or this unrevealed structure simply had not formed yet.

Regardless, the topside was filled with more of Yaldabaoth's shadows. Fighting one would risk drawing attention from an entire hoard—too risky.

The subway, however, was different; the system underwent the same warping as the rest of the world, yet this had the added bonus of making even some of the collapsed tunnels to be traversable.

There were dangers, of course. Shadows were crawling in here as well, but that was another oddity of this place. When Mona first introduced him to this place, it was made clear that—for whatever reason—these shadows seemed to operate independently from the rest. The entirety of the Phantom Thieves had practiced using their personas down here, yet the rest of the world seems to be none the wiser, even after all this time.

What this means was lost on everyone. What this world was was lost on everyone. It seemed to be similar to the strange hour that occurred at midnight, but its effect was on an even grander scale.

So many unknowns, but for now, they weren't on the top of Akira's priority list.

"All right, now—Aaah!" Mona was interrupted by his screams when Akira grabbed him by his tail, tossing the screeching animal into the air for him to transform into a large van.

Akira laughed to himself as he opened the driver's door, "never knew that your tail was so sensitive."

"If you ever do that again…"

"Please, I'm already dead," Akira brushed it off, although made a mental note to be a little more careful of his handing in the future, "I'm just enjoying my last hour."

How was this hour going to end, he found himself wondering. Would he encounter a super shadow that'd eat him alive, or would Queen find him and tear him a new one repeatedly? Which would he prefer?

"Meh," Akira found himself shrugging. Everyone goes out somehow.

Minato's eyes widened in surprise before stepping to the side, nearly avoiding an inferno that he had sent his opponent's way.

Lupine saw his window of opportunity and dashed forward. No matter how skilled the warrior, it only took one mistake to bring them down. Whenever he stumbled, he would be there to punish him.

But all war was fought with deception; a few overdone trips and a brief moment of letting his guard down was all it took.

Closing the distance, Lupine lunged with another high strike; his goal was clearly to push him further back just as he did before.

Before the blow could connect, Minato was already countering. Raising his own sword, Minato intercepted Lupine's attack by blocking with the flat end of the blade.

Using the momentum of Lupine's assault against him, Minato brought his sword down on top of him. What could only be described as raspy borderline animalistic growls and shrieks of pain escaped Lupine's throat as his blood was spilling on the ground.

The sense of pain seemed to drive Lupine into a sort of feral frenzy. Pushing through the agonizing pain, Lupine launched his fist at the bluenette's cheek.

Despite the blow, Minato was able to defend himself against Lupine's continued assault; his slashes were wilder than before, ignoring any pain screaming for his body to stop.

Fortunately, Minato had an ace in case a situation like this were to occur. So driven by his frenzy, Lupine had failed to notice the shadow of the persona above them.

Striking the dog with hi scabbard, Yoshitsune launched him several feet away before slashing into the air. Red lines began circling the hooded figure before phantom blades made their attack, leaving a trail of red in their wake.

More bloodcurdling screams erupted from the creature's throat and the ground around him was painted crimson. The pain sent him down on his knees and wheezing in a pool of his own blood.

"Wow," Minato scoffed, lowering his guard and standing up straight—he wasn't going to be fighting anymore like that, "that kills most shadows, but you're still alive?"

As expected, there was no response from his opponent. However, even beneath the mask that completely hid his face, Minato could tell he was glaring at him.

"No persona," Minato made a mental note. During the entire fight, Lupine never once used a persona against him. Despite that, he managed to reflect a few of his spells right back at him a few times, yet dodged others.

This isn't consistent with persona-resistances. Could it be his mask? He never used a persona and that's the only notable object that he had. It might be similar to the mirrors, only instead of being one-use, it would go on a sort of recharging state.

That must have been a difficult thing to create. The only reason to have an item like that would be to make up for some inherent weakness. Did he not have a persona?

"Great," Minato muttered, "another Sho sit—"

Minato paused when he saw Lupine moving again, slowly positioning his legs to support himself before standing up on his feet again. The blood that had been flowing from his many wounds had ceased as if his body had already had time to recover.

Despite this, even from this distance, Minato could make out his raspy breaths, each one sounding more labored than the last and his posture was more hunched over; clearly, exhaustion was setting in. He was healing from something, but not fully.

"The hell?"

Before he could ponder it further, another voice interrupted, "Oh, Minato," Yamato called out to him, "I trust you haven't forgotten the little one, have you?"

Beneath his mask, Yamato couldn't help but smile at the look of shock from both of them, especially Minato's shocked expression as his eyes darted the area only to realize one from the trio was missing.

There was something cathartic about how easy it was to break his composure. To think, he was merely spectating this entire time. He must have not been used to taking care of someone other than himself—or maybe he thought the attention would fall squarely on him if he played along.

"Ah, such foolishness," the poem was already forming in his mind, "you destroy all that you touch/Does she even know?"

"You better hurry," Yamato teased as he watched the man run in the last direction he saw the girl, "you just might make it."

"I know your secret/we know what you did that day/what you can't forget. How long I wonder?/will you let their fate be shared?/on the next full moon?"

Saki continued to groan, almost dragging the bag behind her. Mr. Arisato hadn't had a chance to get everything he wanted, only the 'bare essentials' as he called them. Otherwise, the bag might have become too cumbersome for her to carry entirely.

Where was she going?

All of her surroundings were beginning to look the same. Had she passed them before but was too panicked to notice? How many turns has she made?

When can she stop running? He said not to stop, but the bag was so heavy and her feet still hurt from the journey here.

Was he okay? He was preparing for a fight before sending her away, but what if he's hurt? What were they going to do to him?

What was she supposed to do? She was all alone again. How long did she have?

How long until she's surrounded again? No one was here to save her this time; it won't be long until she ends up as they did.

No one but her remembers their faces when the monsters came for them. No one but her was there to hear their screams echoing throughout the halls.

No one was going to remember her. No one was going to care, just like no one cared to remember them. Their memory of her friends—her family—would die with her.

Such thoughts were the only ones occupying her mind when she fell backward, closing her hides from the intense brightness from the wall of flames that had risen before her.

"Now, now…"

Looking behind her, Saki saw one of the masked figures approaching her. This was slimmer than the other two, having a more feminine frame and voice.

Her voice was teasing as she approached, "there's no need to run, sweetie."

The entirety of her form was covered in a deep black, the sole exception being her green eyes peeking out the slits of her mask.

Though her voice was lucid, her body movements were more haphazard. If one were to focus on her skirt, they would notice that she was dragging her feet instead of stepping. The only other time Saki had seen or done this is when someone was sleepy, or mad and being punished.

What sort of person would do this?

Why is the woman treating this like the time she had stayed up past bedtime with her friends?

Why would anyone want to hurt her—hurt them? The same people who they looked up to, and watch out the windows wondering when they were going to deliver their next batch of gifts.

Who would love them for so long, and then forsake them to die?

Another set of footsteps, as loud as they were swift. The woman notices them too, stopping in her tracks and listening. The woman's posture stiffened; her breath became caught in her throat before easing into a soft exhale.

The steps stopped, but the woman remained still. An eerie silence began to linger, spreading, and enveloping the entirety of the area in its grip. The only sound that Saki could hear was that of her own breathing.

Breaking the silence was a deafening explosion engulfing the area in smoke, effectively rendering the girl blind. The only thing she could see was the silhouette of two shadows dancing.

Using the smog as cover, Minato dashed forward, passing the woman and quickly placing himself between her and the girl. Despite the blackened air, their eyes locked to one another almost instantly, giving them more than enough time to react to the other's next move.

Minato was the first to strike; he swung his sword with intent. Either it would kill her on the spot, or drive her away.

Dodging to the side, Rin was able to narrowly evade the blade. Hissing through her teeth, she clenched her hand, summoning a dagger. Strong or not, one stab to the side would be critical.

But sometimes, risks had to be taken. The moment Minato felt the blade piercing through his flesh, he secured a firm grip of her wrist.

Rin had barely a moment to process what he had done before she felt the pommel of his sword smashing into her mask, cracking a portion and exposing the right corner of her face.

Dazed, Rin summoned another knife in her off-hand, forcing the bluenette to release her lest he risks another injury he cannot afford.

The smoke was swirling around them as their dance continued, neither able to land a decisive blow on the other. Attack after attack, evasion after evasion—the only result was a few minor cuts on each side.

But the smoke was beginning to dissipate. What had once been an even match was becoming more and more one-sided and in the bluenette's favor. Rin was fast and agile, but as the fight continued, he was pushing further and further on the defensive, giving no opportunity to do anything but evade.

Realizing her predicament, Rin turned her own power on herself, launching herself into the air to gain distance. It was the same as admitting defeat and they both knew it; she couldn't win this fight against him, nor could he continue fighting her.

That knowledge did nothing to stop her from delivering one last attack, condensing the air around them until they took the form of blades that she could launch. The distance was too much for the attack to land, however. Erecting a sheet of ice to form as a barrier was the only necessary countermeasure, breaking the line of sight long enough that he could reach the girl and his bag by the time the wall shattered.

Landing on her feet with the shards falling all around her, Rin saw no trace of them beside a few footprints that had been left during their confrontation.

Humming to himself, Yamato tilted his head to the side, "Disappointing." Too many injuries for so little gain. Out of practice? A sacrifice so he could not make an accurate assessment? Or was that seal beginning to take its toll on him; its chains had been loosening somewhat these past few years.

"He must've kept one of those teleportation gems," Rin surmised.

"Oh?" So she survived too? Surprising. Protection was on his mind more than elimination—he would need to make note of that. But what if one was required for the other?

This endeavor was proving to be far more of a waste than he had hoped. Still, the introduction was long overdue. His attention will be on protecting that little chit of his for now, so he won't be a problem as long as he's kept under control.

Hmm, but that redhead wasn't with him. That will be troublesome when they find each other. Another one of Ikustuki's failures—he was going to need to rid himself of that old man soon. The only thing he's done for him is provided him with his dog.

Speaking of which…

Turning his head, Yamato could see Lupine still on his knees, wheezing and focusing almost entirely on his own breathing. The degradation was beginning to hit his peak, it would seem.

"It would seem he has eluded you, my Little Wolf. " It was difficult to fight the chuckle threatening to escape when the dog seemed to cower at those words. "Now, now, it's my negligence that caused your failure. I'll allow it."

If he was relieved by his assurance, the dog didn't show it.

"But let's not dwell on that," Yamato kneeled down, leaning in slightly closer to his pet, "dogs are adept trackers, yes? Then find him. I would hate for him to ever assume that we have forgotten him."

Lupine did not so much as nod his head but it was unnecessary. Refusing was never an option before, and it would not be one now.

Satisfied, Yamato stood up from the ground, glancing back at the woman behind him. "Rin, make sure Lupine is taken care of. I'm not in the market for a new pet."

He did not care to see what reaction she might have had; there were far more pressing matters to contend with. Letting in someone like Minato? What sort of punishment befitted the crime, he wondered.

"Get up! Get up!"

Disturbing Minato were the girl's little arms shaking him, her voice reaching his ears in a desperate attempt to wake him from his slumber.

With a groan, Minato raised a hand, waving her away. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered, opening his eyes to be greeted by a familiar rundown house and a girl with tears in her eyes. Her lip was trembling like her knees, her breathing was fast almost to the point of hyperventilating.

Not good. It looks like she is on the verge of a panic attack. He needs to find a way to calm her down fast.

"Hey, hey, hey," calling out to her, Minato placed his hands on the girl's shoulders, ignoring the pain he felt from his wounds, "listen to me. Can you hear me? Don't talk—just nod."

The tears kept streaming down her face. For a moment, Minato was afraid that she was so far in that his words couldn't reach her. But then, between the choked breaths, she began moving her head up and down, confirming she could hear his voice.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, okay?" he asked, cupping her face in his hands. "Take a deep breath and slowly count to four. Can you do that?"

Saki tried to obey, only to find herself choking on her own breath again. But Minato was patient, assuring her that she was doing great and to just keep concentrating, suggesting that she could try thinking of a happy memory if it would help.

Closing her eyes, she began reliving an old memory. The earliest one she had was of a woman whose face was a blur no matter how hard she tried to remember. The only thing she could remember about her face was the tears.

Saki was small then—very small. Even still, she could remember the woman holding her close with her arms wrapped around her, never wanting to let go. The woman was so sad, yet there was a tenderness that Saki could never forget.

She really wishes she could remember who she was.

Opening her eyes, Saki found herself greeted by Minato letting out a relieved exhale. Looking at her surroundings, she asked, "where are we?"

"Somewhere I hate being, but always end up needing to go to," Minato answered, shaking his head. Standing up straight, he found himself wincing at his wounds. Healing was never his forte, but a few love taps like that weren't going to be what does him in.

"Hehe,"Death continued chuckling as Minato felt a familiar sense of longing within these rundown walls, "Welcome home, Minato."

OC villains... I've found my track record can be hit or miss. You know, I was once told that I can't write a character that's not sympathetic in some way. I mean, Makoto in AT and DFW were sympathetic in some way, whether it's been raised/groomed into a sociopathic monster or a grieving boy just wanting his nightmares to end.

Well, meet Yamato. There's no sob story. There's no, "maybe he can change!" Oh no, no, no, no! I'll show you just what happens when I want someone to be a cruel, completely unlikable bastard.