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When the man comes around
The hairs on your arm will stand up
At the terror in each sip and in each sup
Will you partake of that last offered cup?
Or disappear into the potter's ground

-Johnny Cash, The Man Comes Around

7 / 22 / 2016

Never thought I'd see the day where Takamaki and Niijima talk and seemingly have a cordial conversation. But that's what I get for trying to go to the vending machines for lunch again.

Well, maybe cordial isn't the right word. But they're at least not at each other's throats. Takamaki in particular isn't hostile or outwardly pissed off, or at least she doesn't seem to be. She does most of the talking. Niijima interjects with a response every now and again, but only when Takamaki's finished, or when urged to. Never do either of the two interrupt one another.

By the end of it all, Takamaki just nods and sticks a hand out, somewhat awkwardly; Niijima takes it in earnest.

I decide to have my lunch somewhere else, at the sight of that.

Come the end of the day, I ask Takamaki what that was all about.

"You saw?" she asks me.

"Yeah."

"Tried to be discreet about it," she sighs. "It wasn't much, really. I just… I apologized."

"You apologized?"

She sucks in a deep breath. "I felt terrible for her. What she had to deal with, with her father. And… for as pissed at her as I was for the Kaneshiro incident, things might have been better off for all of us if I hadn't acted like such a bitch at the time. So I apologized."

"So...you're friends now?"

She hums a little. "Wouldn't say that. Wouldn't say I'd like to be her friend, either. Not just yet, but… we've reached an understanding."

"That's good."

She cups her chin, stares out the window, "I told her I'd help her. With the other Palaces, if she needed me."

"You'd do that?"

"I intend to," she says firmly. "I think about Shiho, I think about girls like Shiho. I think that there's dozens of Kamoshidas and Kaneshiros out there, and I wanna do everything I can to stop them."

"You can't stop them. No more than you can stop the tide from coming in."

"I know. But it can't hurt to try. I mean, if I can't stop them, I might at least be able to give people some measure of courage."

"And if it doesn't happen?"

"Then I can tell myself that I did my best."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"You'll help her out too, won't you? Knowing you, I doubt you'd let them go, either."

"I really, really can't."

"Yeah."

"How is Suzui? Any improvement in her condition?"

"So far… no."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"That just leaves the cat, I guess," I sigh. "Though, it would be sure to help us wherever Treasures can be found."

"What about your therapist? Would he help us out?"

"Probably not."

"Probably?"

"Seventy-five percent chance of him not wanting anything to do with this."

"The other twenty-five percent, though?"

"The other twenty-five percent is him feeling so much pity that he feels he has to help. Maruki's a nice guy, but he can be unbearable at times."

"Makes you say that?"

"Guy never knows when something or someone is a lost cause," I shake my head.

Takamaki just snickers. "Then you'd hate Niijima."

"Makes you say that?"

"When we spoke, she…," she stops herself. "Never mind."

"What'd she say?"

"I think you should talk to her about that, yourself. After all, you're goin' out with her this Sunday, aren't you?"

My God. "She told you?"

She smiles. "I invited her out to eat somewhere on that day, she said she had plans. I asked her if those plans involved you, and she started stammering. Raised her voice. It was kinda cute."

"Can't imagine how embarrassed she must be to hang out with me. No idea why she said yes."

"I've a few ideas," Takamaki smirks. "Didn't know you had a thing for older women."

"We're the same age. Spent a year in prison, remember?"

"Oh yeah. So you do have a thing for her, then? Or is this some conspiratory shit and you're convening, planning to invade someone else's Palace?"

"No. Just hanging out, is all."

"Didn't peg you as the type."

"To hang out with people?"

"To ask people out. You'll pardon me but from what I've seen of you, I always imagined you to be, like, a monk in the future."

"God, that would be the dream. Nobody would bother me for the rest of my life."

"So why did you ask her out?"

"I dunno. All the shit she went through in that Palace, I guess. I felt she could use a little pick-me-up. I just kinda blurted it out. Didn't think she'd say yes."

"The Devil's on a date with the Pope."

"Sounds like a shitty joke."

"Shame."

"It is a shame. She's got better options," I chuckle.

"Not what I was talking about."

I narrow my eyes. "What were you talking about then, when you said shame?"

She just smiles, "Never mind. It's nothing."

Classes end and I tell Takamaki I've to work, and she leaves me to my job. I don't speak to Niijima, I don't even run into her at the end of the day.

Good thing, too. Because I'm unnerved as to how she might react with the knowledge that there's really only one person on my mind, a snake with shit-brown long hair and a smile that must take him everything to pull off, every single day.

He's a liar, but how willing is he to lie? How far is he willing to go to uphold his lies? He's been remarkably open thus far. His story makes so much sense it's unbelievably suspicious.

Yet there's one thing that nags at me, in the worst way. I've a hard time buying his story about finding out about my father's Kingdom; I've an even harder time finding him trustworthy in a Palace or a Kingdom.

But I for the life of me cannot believe his reasoning as to how and why he was able to enter himself in Tsukioka's Palace in the first place, right as we had gotten ourselves there. He frames it as coincidence, as a fortuitous meeting at just the right time, but it couldn't have been. I'd be a fool to believe him.

As if I'm not one already.

I finish up a day's work at the flower shop then head on over to Yongen come 6:00 PM. I change up in the bathhouse next door; school uniform gets shoved in a large bag and replaced by a tacky white shirt and faded blue jeans. Then I head to Leblanc.

And there I encounter someone at the counter, before I even see my new boss. She's a tall lady, graceful in her movements. Long, flowing silver hair that stretches down to her lower back. There's an icy look in her eye, something cold yet sad, she faces me for the briefest of moments and I'm stuck, planted on the ground.

For I recognize her, completely.

You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who would speak as forthrightly as this woman would in a courtroom. She's beautiful in a way most could never even hope to be. But there's a viciousness in her that most would never be able to even remotely produce. Makoto Niijima has inklings of it; Daisaku Niijima's Manikin put a smug, overconfident twist to it. She's perfected it-honed it to an extent where it shines through even when she's just sipping coffee over a counter. Even when she's just looking at the stupid kid with messy hair and glasses who's too terrified to really say much of anything at all.

I come to question things by the way she just turns away from me, faces her cup of coffee, and downs it deep in a single gulp. How she turns to face the TV in the far end of the room, almost nonchalantly. How she doesn't even spare me a passing glance once she's seen me and decided she's seen enough.

Does Makoto Niijima's sister not remember me at all?

"Right on time."

I hear his voice but see him too late. Sakura-san all but shoves a black apron into my arms. He pulls me in for a small whisper: "Don't stare at customers for that long, ever again."

I blink multiple times, "Y-yeah, sorry."

I do my job and I do it well enough. Washing up the dishes and the pots and the pans that have been all but tossed into the sinks, as Sakura and Niijima's sister watch television with similarly dull eyes.

It's awkward, more than anything else. These days I don't feel fear that often. Crippling anxiety, nervousness; not fear. Not the soul-gripping terror that I often enjoy striking into Palace Rulers like Kamoshida and Tsukioka. And quite honestly, I've nothing to fear from her. Not here, not in this layer of reality-for all have to at the very least put on an air of civility in civilized environments.

But I associate her with those days. Court hearings and eyewitness testimonies and humiliation after humiliation. Every day I'd hear her speak with a command that would make everyone in the room shift their eyes on her-and she would detail the horrors I'd inflicted upon a man who had only ever deserved worse, cutting into the jury with the precision of a scalpel. And then the days end, as abruptly as they'd come in the first place-with me being carted away in shackles. A girl and her baby crying out for me on the sidelines.

I'm certain that if they'd had a worse prosecutor on the scene I might not have faced jail at all.

At 4:00 PM this afternoon, a public transit bus was driven down an opposing lane with its customers still inside.

Suddenly I completely forget that there exist things in the world other than the television screen and the newscasters in their suits recounting the story.

Police are hurrying to resolve the matter, as this may relate to the rise in psychotic breakdown incidents occurring throughout the city.

Again. It happened again. Shijima, once more?

Even today you decide to send innocents to hell, while I walk this earth solely to put an end to you?

"This that thing everyone's going on about?" Sakura just shakes his head, almost sounding annoyed at what's just hit the news. "Mental shutdowns this, psychotic incidents that…"

"Doesn't it make you curious?"

Her voice, once upon a time brimming with ruthless conviction, has now taken a much more concerned and questioning tone.

"People who were living normal lives suddenly went mad or deranged out of the blue… not to mention that it's happening one after another. Could they really be coincidental?"

Sakura's lower lip extends over his upper, as he narrows his eyes and nods somewhat nonchalantly in response. Not even really looking at her as he pulls up his papers and reclines in his seat.

Sae Niijima, seeing this conversation is going nowhere, decides, "I'll have another house blend, please."

Suddenly Sakura exhales, seat creaking as he gets up and shelves the newspaper, "Comin' right up…"

What am I doing?

I face the sink again, ignoring how the soap is causing cracks in my hands and how my palms are beginning to itch miserably.

"I didn't think this place could afford a part-timer…"

Shit, she's referring to me.

I turn back to see Sakura grinding some beans in a brew. "Well, people've been coming in a lot more these days."

"Are you a high school student?" she asks me directly, facing me and now I'm barely concealing the urge to just leave right then. "Where do you attend?"

Lie. Lie, lie, lie. Doesn't matter if she's a fucking prosecutor. What other high schools are in the area? What've you seen in the papers, in ads, on the internet?

No. No use. Sakura's already seen my uniform.

"...Shujin Academy."

"Oh? I see. Someone I know goes there as well," she's almost friendly as she says that. "I've heard that things are rough right now. I can't imagine. Your teachers ought to be setting examples for you. Looking out for you. Instead they're caught up in scandal after scandal."

Smoothly and with a light grin Sakura places the mug right next to her. "Here you are."

"Thank you," she smiles faintly, as she takes the cup and drinks it swiftly. "I should be heading out."

She's brisk as she leaves, but her eyes meet mine again just for another moment. I think she recognizes me right then, I'm almost sure of it right on the spot, but she leaves without another word, and my suspicions remain utterly unconfirmed. She isn't obvious like Akechi or a bleeding heart like Maruki or suffering from painfully low self-esteem like her sister-

There is not a single thing I can determine from her.

"If you're done ogling her, could you wipe down the booths?"

"Yes sir," I almost whisper.

"She's about seven years your senior, so don't even think you've a chance with her." Though he still sounds gruff, he's still joking about it.

I don't find it in me to laugh and I don't find it in me to say another word for the rest of the day unless spoken to. Because I've so many worst-case scenarios piling up in my head over the last couple days and I can only deal with so many more before I feel the urge to snap someone's Palace in two.

Worst-case scenario of the day.

Sae Niijima knows exactly who I am and for some fucked up reason feels no need to really show it, because she's a cold and calculating bitch with a heart of stone.

Best-case scenario…

She's completely forgotten about me, because as a prosecutor she runs through cases like mine on a daily basis. Meaning that perhaps one of the most pivotal moments of my eighteen years thus far meant absolutely nothing to her.

And at the end of it all she has a Palace. She has a Palace and she's determined the Special Investigations Unit HQ as the location of said Palace. She's likely in league with the SIU and as a prosecutor has probably turned a blind eye to, or actively helped in, their fucked up operations.

Makoto Niijima knows this. She knew this way back when, when the news of her father crashed into her. She broke down over it, eating lunch on the school roof, crying as if she'd wanted to for so long.

But.

One thing at a time.

Or else I'm going to look at myself from somewhere else again, and return to myself tearing apart all the leather on these couches.

My mother, having been a schoolteacher in life, was a master of micromanagement to the Nth degree. She would tell me it was never a bad idea to plan things out in advance. Decide on what to do first, section everything else for later into their own respective tasks. I've carried that with me well into my adolescent phase, but in the worst ways imaginable.

Write a list, a schedule, she'd say. Better to stress over one thing at a time, than everything at once.

When I get myself to my room I make that bucket list on the various things I need to accomplish in order before it all comes crashing down. I scribble it in my notebook and stuff it under my pillow that night.

First, above all others, is to find out what Futaba Sakura has to do with any of this. Determine the location and distortion of her Palace, and see what fucked up horrors she's got locked up inside that brought my father and Shido and all their cronies to think it was a good idea to use the Vortex World as a tool to accrue money and power and influence.

After that I check out Sae Niijima's Palace and see what the hell she has to offer me. Perhaps my father hasn't put a cognitive block on her. Perhaps I can find information out of her that Tsukioka's too afraid to divulge.

I help Makoto Niijima in her journey to undo every single yakuza prick under Kaneshiro's payroll, and in the meantime Akechi and I scour my father's Kingdom in order to get answers while letting the Detective Prince think I'm a good little dog on a leash.

And, well, I guess it best works as an absolute last resort. Perhaps it's an inevitability, perhaps I'll never have to do it at all. But in case something fucks up again, if in all the chaos I find nothing of value and nothing that answers any of my questions…

Then I go into Shido's Kingdom alone. And hope I don't die or end up killing him, before I get exactly what I need.

Yes indeed, my mother's lessons remain with me even now.

So much so that I may end up using her advice to determine the best way to kill my father.

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7 / 23 / 2016

Maruki returns home on a Saturday evening, 8:00 PM.

I bring him home from the hospital through a taxi. Getting to his room causes him a small measure of discomfort; still a little groggy, still struggling with himself. I've to help him up the stairs every now and again, but we make it back to his place.

He notices what's on the table, before anything else, and from his face you'd think he's never seen anything so beautiful in his life-really, it's just a pot with plates on either side of it.

"Kazuya…?"

"I cooked a new pot of paella. I wish I could've improved on it, but it came to me suddenly and I was short on time. I hope it tastes fine."

Guy looks like he's never received such kindness in all his years.

When we eat dinner he wolfs it down with a voraciousness I've never seen out of him before; was the hospital food so terrible and bland that something as terrible as I'd make would feel so fulfilling to him? Within half an hour he finishes two whole platefuls while I've just barely finished my first, and he leans back in his seat with labored breaths.

"That was actually delicious."

"You flatter me."

Maruki looks like he wants to say something. Puts both his hands over his face and wipes downward. Says something I don't really hear all too well, so I assume he's mumbling to himself, but really he's talking to me.

"...can I?"

"Excuse me? Sorry, I-I couldn't hear you."

"I can't stop you from doing whatever you want with Palaces, Kazuya. Can I?"

He does not look at me with sadness or disappointment. He's just painfully, sorrowfully, unbearably tired, tired to the point that he feels remorse for feeling tired.

"Maruki, what…?"

He drinks a glass of water, and exhales. "I can't stop you. I can barely even slow you down. I can't decide for you how you should use your powers. And I can't change you. Nobody can. To do what you do… I'd have to be everything I'm not. All that said… when I told you I'd help you back then...that hasn't changed."

I need to get myself out of this man's life as soon as I possibly can. "Maruki, you don't-"

"Tell me that you don't need my help to find and put down Shijima. Tell me that you can do it by yourself."

"You don't want to put them down, though, do you?" I say this harshly, biting back the stinging sensation in the back of my eyes. "You don't...Maruki. To do what I do, you'd have to be everything you're not. And you're not me, you're not…"

"I want to help you stop them. And your chances of surviving them increase exponentially with me at your side. I may not want to kill them, but neither should you. It's my job to look after you. And I'm going to do it. Or else I'm turning you in."

"Don't be so fucking stupid."

"Maybe if you had told yourself that more often, you wouldn't have let yourself be in this mess to begin with."

"Maruki."

"I could throw you in jail. I could watch you leave this apartment and perhaps never come back in a pursuit of vengeance that won't save you in any capacity. Or I could help you stop these people and hopefully curb you before you do something else you can never take back. There really isn't much of a choice here, unless you decide to turn away from all this, which you won't."

"Why are you willing to do any of this for someone like me?"

"Someone like you?"

"I nearly got you in a mess with the yakuza you had never deserved. I've nearly dragged you to your death a thousand times over by now. I've caused you to collapse and sent you to a hospital for weeks. Why would you still want anything to do with me? Why haven't you just, just thrown me in jail and let me rot forever?"

"I could never do that to you."

"Why not!?"

He stands right up from the chair, goes to the sink with his plate and scrubs off any remaining specks of food. "You remind me of myself. Me and Rumi."

"So out of sentimentality you'd drag yourself to the bottom of the world with me?"

Maruki turns away from the sink and approaches me and at once I see that his face is unlike the face of Takuto Maruki. That mild naivete, the wide eyes, the small but warm and genuine smile. Everything that I'd come to know of him, everything belonging to Takuto Maruki, it is just not there anymore.

Suddenly he speaks again and his voice is far colder than I'm accustomed to, his tone almost sounding as distant as my father's.

"Are you going to kill your father, Kazuya?"

I don't even have the courage to look at him, nor the courage to answer him immediately. He knows exactly what I'm going to say, he knew from the very beginning, because my intelligence is worthless in the face of my transparency.

We both know what I'll say but I haven't the strength to say it for a long, long time.

"If I have to… I will."

"If there was a way you didn't have to kill him, would you take it?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll help you find that way. No matter what."

"And if there isn't one?"

"Then we'll make one."

"And if we can't!?"

"You always, always assume you can't do something. I can't change, Maruki. I can't help people. I can't stop Palace Rulers without turning into a monster, I can't let these people go, I can't move on, I can't be free - tell yourself you can do something for once in your life and maybe you'll actually be able to do it!"

"Maruki, I-"

"Shut up. I know what you're gonna tell me, The last time I thought I could do something, I failed - so don't even bother. The only reason you are the way you are is because you choose to be. And the only reason you can't trust anyone to help you is because you're scared that if you do, they'll fail you or you'll lose them. And you'd rather go down in flames than reach out to people who could help you, because you think you deserve a terrible existence alone than even the smallest chance of happiness. And when you finally do kill Shijima, you're just going to hole up somewhere and kill yourself, because when you're not angry you're sad and you won't let yourself believe you can feel anything different because you're a coward and a failure and someone who's too afraid to let himself change."

His voice, raised to a degree which disturbs me, renders me silent at the dinner table. He grabs the pot of paella and stuffs the dish in three separate tupperware containers before shoving them back in the fridge. Places his plate in an assortment with all his others and gruffly tells me, "Just leave your plate in the sink once you're done. I'll clean it in the morning."

He then leaves, all but slamming the door to his room shut.

And I no longer have the appetite to continue my meal.

I no longer have the appetite for anything, really.

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7 / 24 / 2016

Dressed in a white shirt, black coat, blue jeans. I look terrible. Like I've thrown something together hastily, which I pretty much have. Old clothes and whatnot.

I've no idea why I'm in the middle of Shibuya station, ten minutes early. How I could be so bold as to spend all my time here. I should be out there, killing Shadows and threatening their Rulers into handing precious information that gets me where I need to be. But for the first time in months I actually don't feel in the mood to do so.

There's no longer a rush in my chest, a fire in my skull, a thousand insect legs digging into the base of my head. Up and gone like the wind and the only energy I've got in me today is the energy to get up and go out and be on time and hopefully not make Niijima feel like she's wasting herself being near me.

Even though she is. Even though all of them have been.

Is she stupid to put her faith in someone like me, or am I just too cowardly to reward that faith?

I told myself that I'd tell her a million terrible things once she'd arrive. So many awful, wretched things she'd never deserve at all. If I do end up saying them I'll have consigned myself to the deepest hole in the darkest pit of the ninth circle of Hell.

But I see her approach me through the crowds and all at once I forget the words I told myself I'd say. Her eyes are still baggy and her hair's got some strands popping out in places but she's remarkable. She walks with confidence, as much confidence as the world's allowed her to keep, but it's enough to make her stand apart from the rest.

Her eyes meet mine; one of them is made red because she's standing beside a window, which casts its afternoon light upon just half of her face. White and pale, but never looking too pale.

"You're here early," she smiles lightly, and I realize too late she's right next to me. "I'm sorry. Did I keep you?"

Today, just this once, I don't have the energy to do the only thing I'm good at.

So I'll have to focus everything I do have on something I never thought I'd do again.

"Not at all," I smile back. "Shall we go?"

"Sure."

Small restaurant in Shibuya, a bit further away from the Crossing. Chinese restaurant called Luk Foo. Would eat here every now and again, way back when I was in Kishibaru, after exams and the like. Niijima seemed open to trying some of it.

Glad she likes it, by the way she gulps down the noodles.

"I never once thought I'd be eating like this with you," she smiles, taking a swig of her glass of water.

"Me neither."

"Are you okay? You seem...pretty down."

I just smirk. "Don't mind me. Haven't been able to sleep much these days. Though I did get about six hours last night, I think."

That's a lie. More like four.

"Understandable. A lot's happened."

"I really can't believe you went to school the same day you beat Tsukioka's Palace. It's ludicrous. I can't imagine how exhausted you were."

"I spent all of lunch break sleeping. Once I got home I slept immediately when I made it to the couch. Woke up just in time to head off for school the next morning."

I exhale, "Responsibilities."

"Responsibilities."

I narrow my eyes. "Haven't you ever felt like you just...wanted to lie down on the ground somewhere and watch the sky for the rest of your life?"

She blinks, almost startled for a second. "Sometimes. I'd think about that a lot more, when I was younger. But I'd never let myself think about it for too long."

"You had to ease your sister's burdens."

"Right. Or maybe I was just trying to ease my own."

She stares into her cup of tea, almost mournful about something.

I blink at her. "What's wrong?"

"I've been thinking. About this whole changing hearts thing...," she admits, staring at her shoes. "I'm not planning on giving it up. Not anytime soon. But I think I've been a little narrow-minded about all this."

Interesting. I respond, "How so?"

She turns to face me. "I don't regret what happened with Kaneshiro. That much is certain. But I feel more could've been done."

I scoff, "Thought you didn't like the idea of torture..."

"Not that," she grunts plainly. "I spent nearly all of my time in Kaneshiro''s Palace trying to beat his Shadow down. I was thinking that what we did, it...we didn't do enough. Changing hearts won't be a solution for everything, right? There're people out there who'll be suffering like Suzui and Takamaki, and they won't be able to venture into their oppressors' Palaces. And we won't be able to venture into their Palaces either, because they're in foreign countries or they work underground or they use fake names."

"What are you getting at?" I ask her.

"We didn't do anything with Kaneshiro beyond ruin his life," she grunts. "That won't stop this sort of thing from happening."

I scratch my cheek. "Nothing will stop this sort of thing from happening."

"True," she mutters. "But still. It felt like I was too absorbed in myself as well. Like, all I thought about was trying to stop Kaneshiro, I didn't try anything else."

Anything else? "You want to understand him?"

"Know your enemy, right?" she replies matter-of-factly. "We can't invade the hearts of every Kaneshiro in the world. What if we could've used what we learned to help other people? When you...found his Will Seed, as you say, what if we could have used the information to develop more insight into people like him? What if we could have used it to learn more about what makes them work? Gain better understanding?"

"Of their psyches?"

"Of distortion in general, I'm thinking. Of what drives a man to develop a distorted heart in the first place. Maybe, if a distortion can be nipped in the bud before it can bloom. I don't know."

I ask. "Not like anyone''ll believe us if we tell them about Palaces, and the Metaverse, and Personas and the like."

"I know. But Kaneshiro was a person. I didn't try to know. And somewhere out there, another Kaneshiro's living his life, inflicting hell on dozens of other innocent people that could have very easily been us. Because nobody can see him, like we can. Nobody can stop him, like we can. And I could have tried to learn more. I could have tried to learn how. But I was so focused on trying to survive. It's like all I've been trying to help is myself."

Judging from the look in her eyes, something in her's a little guilty about that. So I tell her straight-up: "You wanted to do things for other people. And it isn't selfish at all to want to stay alive in the middle of a terrible situation. If it's of any comfort, I don't think you were being selfish. And as for Kaneshiro, you and I did what needed to be done. In trying to understand him I found there was no convincing him or deterring him away from the path he'd set himself on. He was too far gone in his hatred of everything to be undone through anything other than sheer brute force. There's tons of material out there studying his kind, analyzing and breaking down the various psychoses people like him have. Priority number one was stopping him, no matter what. He went too far, and he couldn't be allowed to hurt more people."

She just eyes me carefully. Then turns away.

"This is about your sister, isn't it?" I ask her.

"Not just that, I suppose," she says after a while of silence. "Up until now, I've been the quintessential honor student. I believe I've been handling my position as student council president with ease as well."

I decide to tease her a little. "I too, am extraordinarily humble."

"I-I don't mean that in a boasting way. That's simply how I've thought about it thus far. But in the end, I was unable to make any kind of impact with Suzui-san, or Kaneshiro." She says sadly, "You were right, when you confronted me about my failings in the student council office. Turns out there's no use for a law-abiding honor student when things get rough. Now that I've got all this power, I want to do everything I can to protect as many people as possible. All my studying up to this point has kept me quite narrow-minded. I'd like to learn more about the other students. Broaden my horizons. And I'll struggle with that. There's such a huge disparity between my tastes and those of my peers… but I want to put in the effort to know people more. I don't want my ignorance to end up getting people hurt or worse, again. Not while I can help it."

"You're really invested in this, aren't you?"

"You don't have to come with me to my sister's Palace," Niijima purses her lips.

"So you are planning to go into her Palace. By yourself."

"I'm not willing to drag you into more of my problems."

"You already did, when you told Tsukioka you'd go after all his conspirators. No, that's not fair at all. I said I'd help you."

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and sighs. "I do appreciate the sentiment, but...I feel that this is something I have to do on my own. I'd rather settle this between myself and her. She's the only family I have left."

Such hypocrisy I have developed in my heart. But what do you expect from the Devil. "At least bring the cat with you, your first run through. You'll need someone to heal you up. Call me if you need me."

"Right. Thank you," she nods. "Speaking of Morgana...he mentioned something, way back when, about a...place we could train? Mentos something, what was it again?"

"Mementos."

She pauses then. "So you know of it. Have you been there?"

Slowly, I nod. "Twice."

"Would it...help us become stronger?"

"Maybe," I shake my head. "But I'd advise against it, unless you've got someone who can heal you, someone like Maruki, or someone like me. The place is filled to the brim with powerful Shadows. It's where I got the Hell Biker."

"You found the Hell Biker in Mementos?" Niijima asks. "You received him as Persona through there?"

"I don't think it's something most people can do. Getting Shadows and turning them into Personas. I don't know why I can do it, but don't assume you can. You'll get yourself killed, if you're not careful."

"I'll give it more thought then. But I'm leaning towards giving it a try. If only for the experience."

"You can only enter it with the cat. When I got you out of that bar all those months ago, I wanted to throw Kaneshiro into Mementos and leave him there, but the app wouldn't let me because the cat wasn't in my proximity."

"You always say the most disturbing things you're capable of, as if you're reading aloud a book you don't even like," she shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about Mementos and Shadows anymore."

"Sorry."

"No. Don't be, I brought it up. That said," she turns to me. "Has anyone in school...mistreated you?"

"There's this one student who got me in an armlock and then blackmailed me a few days later. It was fairly recent, I think you know of her."

"Ugh. I really don't deserve to live that down, do I?"

"Don't take it seriously, I don't even give a shit about that anymore," I smile warmly. "Nobody's really resorted to anything other than insults behind my back. Doesn't really matter, so no need to worry."

"How do you cope with all the rumors?" she shakes her head. "It's exhausting to hear what people really think of you when they believe you're not listening."

I just shrug. "I'd rather hear them whisper about all the shit I've done in secret instead of hearing them say how unfortunate I am. I'd rather they hate me than feel sorry for me. Besides, it's always been like this."

"I wish I could just turn their words off in my head sometimes," she groans. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... it's always been like this for you? You mean you've always been…"

"Alone? Yeah. But that's kind of how I like it, I guess? I can talk to people when I've got to, but my favorite time of day is when I just...curl up in a corner of a room somewhere and read a book, I guess."

"You read books? Any favorites?"

I pause, then let out a meek smile if only for a brief second.

I remember yellow scarves. I think of pilots and deserts and snakes, and roses kept in glass cases. Foxes roaming across fields and speaking of essential things.

"The Little Prince."

"Really?" she smiles. "I haven't read it myself, but...I've heard good things. Is it really that good?"

"It's… how should I say this," I put a hand to my chin. "It's really well-written. I enjoy it a lot. But it's a very...personal book for me. I'm biased."

"How is it personal for you?"

Can't believe I'm telling her this. "I'm dyslexic."

She blinks. "You're what?"

"It was awful when I was younger. Letters rearranged in ways I couldn't comprehend, nothing I'd read would make any sense to anyone who actually knew how the hell books worked," I chuckle. "So I had a hard time at first, in kinder and in grade school. Teachers would be too impatient to help me learn, and kids didn't really give a crap."

"Oh my God. Do you still struggle with that now?"

"Yeah. Every now and again, but it doesn't happen often. Pretty much ninety percent of the time, even if some letters get mixed up, I've read enough books to visualize the messed-up words correctly in my head. These days I basically get everything right. But I couldn't have gotten to this point if it weren't for my mother."

She understands right away. "Your mother read you The Little Prince."

"She'd help me study and comb my way through textbooks, but every night before bed she'd help me read one chapter of The Little Prince."

"That's so sweet," she smiles widely.

"It was horrible," I smirk. "She'd make me read each word, painstakingly, until I'd get it right. I wouldn't get to sleep until she and I finished a whole chapter together, or until it was past 8:00 PM. And she'd get annoyed with me, and I'd tell her I hated her, and it was just this constant back and forth of us both aggravating the other. But I learned. I learned well enough to read the final chapter with her, with basically no issue. And I'm grateful for how she stuck around with me until the end."

Niijima nods. "And you've kept up the habit of reading books since then…?"

"I've always liked books. After my mother died, I came to love books, I guess."

"Do you mind if I ask how she died?"

"Cancer."

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Don't be. I like to think I've coped well enough. Shit, what am I doing?" I chuckle.

"What?"

"I just haven't told anybody about this before. It's nothing."

"I'm glad you told me," she smiles.

You know what? "So am I. Thanks for listening."

"There's a bookstore near my place. I'll see if they have a copy."

"I could lend you mine for a while," I tell her. "Still got it."

"Really? W-well, I appreciate it, but…"

"It's no imposition. I'll lend it to you tomorrow, during lunch," I smile. "It's a really good book."

She looks at me, beyond confused. "How can you lend me a copy of The Little Prince with a smile on your face, and yet…"

"And yet?" I slurp down a few noodles, eyes on her all the while.

And she doesn't finish that thought at all.

Pretty silent when we head back to the trains, but she says this one thing before she gets back on:

"I had a wonderful day today. Thank you for treating me. I appreciate the pick-me-up."

I almost ask her if she'd want to go somewhere else sometime. But she beats me to it, like she's beaten me on a lot of other things: "Would you...want to do this again, sometime?"

...what the hell.

"Sure. I'm looking forward to it."

She smiles. "Good. That's great."

"I'll get you home. Brought you all the way out here-"

"No, this is fine. You should be heading home, too. I don't want Maruki to be too worried for you."

I almost protest. But whatever. "Okay then. Take care."

"You too," she nods.

And as she leaves, I feel some bizarre twisting in my chest that I both crave and despise in equal measure. It disappears as quickly as it came, and I'm back to calling myself an unbelievably stupid piece of shit again, because multiple times I could have thrown my fucking food at her and said shitty things and got her to recognize me as a sick bastard motherfucker who isn't even worth helping.

Instead I ended up telling her a childhood story about my damn mother and me, shit's embarrassing. What's wrong with you?

But whatever.

I'll have to remember to lend her a copy of The Little Prince tomorrow.

My phone buzzes suddenly.

I check the new message; Niijima's number.

Thanks again for today.

For some unknowable reason I feel utterly compelled to respond immediately with something stupidly good, but I get another message before I can do so.

Number's from no one I know of.

Phone says the message it sent is a GIF.

I hesitate for a moment. Wondering what or who could have sent it, have half a mind to dismiss it as spam.

I open it.

A dead labrador. Opened, gutted right down the middle like a fish. The labrador's barely past a puppy's age and its insides are all spread out violently. Its black eyes, being eaten by ants, stare blankly into the camera. Maggots and the like swarm its open and gaping wounds. Surrounding it are piles of filth and garbage, old banana peels and empty plastic containers and dead rats. The dog's flesh is moldy and mottled but it breathes still, twitches still, jittering and gasping for life. No, it can't be still alive, not with its wounds-its muscles are spasming.

The text that reads afterwards is:

KAZUYA HIKAWA.
YOU DO NOT KNOW ME, BUT I KNOW YOU.
I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.
YOU WILL ANSWER MY QUESTIONS OR I WILL SUBJECT YOU TO TERRORS BEYOND YOUR WILDEST IMAGININGS.

I message them back.

Who are you? What do you want with me?

WHAT DID YOU DO TO KANA MAGARIO?

What?

YOU KNEW HER, AS KANA KOHAKU.

Breaths are shaky, tremulous now. Takes me everything I have not to just throw my phone away right then. Takes even more to not throw myself into the train.

Why should I tell you anything?

Doesn't respond for thirty seconds.

THEN WE DO THIS THE HARD WAY. YOUR BANK ACCOUNT HAS HAD ITS PASSWORD CHANGED. DO WHAT I SAY, OR YOU'LL REMAIN LOCKED OUT OF YOUR SAVINGS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

Bullshit.

Until I use a bank app on my phone to try and make a transaction.

ERROR: Please check if you've spelt your email address and password correctly.

.

.

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FUTABARC BEGINS BOIS LET'S FUCKING GO

Basing this section of the arc off Shut Up and Dance, the Black Mirror episode. Will probably get a lot more outlandish once we get to the Palace.