Disclaimer: Hmm… Wait. Oh, nope. Still don't own Persona or the characters.

Chapter 3

Dozens of shots from all across the court, a relentless cacophony of crashes against the backboard, and countless adrenaline-fuelled runs up and down the asphalt told Souji one thing about his opponent: he was damn good. Their first two games, first 3-on-3, then 5-on-5, had been too close for either to let it go. Toyama had won by a point the first game, and Souji returned the favour during the second. The teams were well balanced, neither having the advantage, and Souji got the feeling this sort of practice wasn't new to them. He fit in with them, or perhaps they worked well around him, from the start, and Toyama had given 120% after the first whistle. The tie-breaker hurried to a close as Souji wiped the sweat out of his eyes, hearing the whistle announce another point scored. He ran interception, passed across, and watched as the ball sunk once more. Still tied.

The ball made its way to Toyama. Souji was sure they had to be near the end of the game. He zigged when he should have zagged, missed a swipe, and bolted after the team captain.

It was like a moment out of a movie. Souji's team was three points ahead when Toyama made it to centre, and shot just as the whistle announced the game's end. Forward it flew, hitting the backboard, spinning along the rim-

And sinking. Tie game.

Cheers arose from the team and spectators when Takenaka announced the scores while a disbelieving grin split Souji's face. The team made its way to the sidelines, to the towels and water and, in some cases, exuberant girlfriends. Toyama came over with a spare water bottle and extended his hand. Souji brushed the sweat from his eyes and shook it firmly. "You don't give up easy, do you?" Toyama asked.

"It's a flaw." Souji swished the water around his mouth and struggled to slow his breathing. "Best game I've had in a while."

"You're telling me. Your friend teach you to play like that?"

"Nope. He helped a lot, but I've been playing for years."

"It's paid off. Now I regret not pushing harder to get you on the team." Souji's eyes narrowed for a moment, and Toyama held his hands in front of him. "I said I wouldn't, and I won't. Not unless you want to. However, I wonder if you can be convinced of something else?"

"I'm listening," Souji replied cautiously, taking small sips from the bottle.

"It's good for the team if we do this, play with and against someone new. They can learn a lot from you, and we always need more practice. You want to get better for your own reasons, so why don't we make it more regular?"

"You want me to be a trainer or assistant coach or something?"

Toyama shook his head, getting his breathing under control. "Nothing official. Just regular days and times when we put some real time into it. Like today. I leave the choice of courts to you."

"Why?"

Toyama stared at him for several moments. "Why what?"

"Why me? Why now? Aren't there students from other schools you could practice with?"

"You think I have an angle, don't you?"

Souji paused, putting his thoughts in order. "I'm not used to people making such a big deal out of my involvement in something," he replied finally. "In anything. I prefer to stay under the radar."

"So I gathered." Toyama jerked his head sharply to the side, leading Souji away from the others. "If I have an angle in this, it's that I want to get better. Basketball, and this team, isn't just a hobby to me. I've played against the other schools, met them in tournaments. It's the same people, or new people trained by the same ones, y'know? You're a rogue factor, a real challenge, and I want to get as much out of that as I can for as long as possible. That's all."

Souji thought it over. He'd been suspicious, but maybe too much so. Old habits died hard. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no worries."

"Nothing official, right? Just practice?"

"That's the plan."

"If that's the case, does three times a week work? Let's play here, unless it's raining."

Toyama grinned. "Sounds good." He cocked his water bottle in a salute. "Here's to more turnouts like today."

"You're okay with draws?"

"Oh that won't happen again," Souji was assured with utmost confidence. "Today was a warm-up. It'll be different next time."

Souji couldn't contain his laughter. Regardless of how much improvement Toyama felt he needed, he didn't lack for self-assurance. "I'll see you later then, Toyama-kun."

"Later."

Souji collected his things and left the court. The day had been interesting in its own right, useful for breaking his routines, but different enough that he needed the space to put the piece together.

Perhaps he was thinking too hard. While the team as a whole, and especially the team captain, had reasons to dislike his participation on the court, Toyama showed no indication of becoming spiteful or jealous. If anything, he revelled in the challenge, and showed no indications of the competitive dramatics and outright bitchiness Souji had experienced on his previous teams, Inaba excluded. The offer was an open door, and so long as it stayed that way, there wasn't a reason not to practice with him. Takenaka seemed similarly forthright and sincere, something he hadn't expected. That said, he couldn't say anything about anyone else on the team. Even through the introductions and games, they'd just been names and faces moving in the same direction.

Souji's remaining thoughts scattered like wedding confetti as he approached his apartment and saw someone at his door, one hand on the lock, the other holding an attaché case, and a cell phone expertly held between his ear and shoulder. There was an audible click over the rapid-fire English from the man before he slipped into the apartment. Souji followed, every step calming his mind as naturally as breathing. His face showed nothing, and much as he hated the dull tranquility that settled over him, it was a habit too old to change after a few weeks of shooting hoops, or even a year away from home. No matter how life-changing the year was.

Souji shut and locked the door behind him, shucked off his shoes, and took Kou's gift to his room before returning to the living area. He heard the cell phone snap closed. "Hello Father."

The man jerked slightly and turned, facing his son. Much as Souji wondered, from the lack of affection he'd seen his parents give each other, if he'd been adopted, it was no guess from whom he got his colouring. Yuuma Seta, CEO of a capital investment company, work that complimented his wife's perfectly, was Souji's template for height, skin tone, and eye and hair colour, with the elder Seta's perfectly groomed locks having gone prematurely grey in his mid-twenties. Kept lean by a sporadic exercise regimen and missed meals at the office, his height and shape were reflected in Souji before Inaba. While Souji's height remained constant, his shoulders and chest had broadened with muscle from swinging a sword for so long, something that set him apart even from his basketball-obsessed peers on the court. It was something that went largely unnoticed at home, and Souji did enjoy the look enough to adapt his regular exercise to maintain it. A greater difference between father and son was in their eyes. Not the colour, for that was an identical match, but in their depth. Souji's burned with the remnants of his adrenaline rush from the game with Toyama. His father's had lost their sheen years before, passion and enthusiasm replaced with habit and ambition, and were now as flat and smooth as glass.

"Souji," the elder Seta murmured. "I'm surprised. Weren't you supposed to be with Dojima longer?"

"I stayed until the end of March, Father. It was time to come back, or so I was told."

"Ah. Of course."

"Mother says your trip was profitable."

"It was." A cell phone went off. "Ah, that must be Nakamura. Excuse me."

"Of course, Father."

With the conversation being mostly in English, Souji could have stayed and waited to speak to Yuuma. He could have practiced his own English after the conversation ended, or spoken to the man he hadn't seen since the previous February. But he didn't. He couldn't think of anything to say between phone calls, and the calls would come. There were days he could set his watch to them.

Instead he retreated to his room, noticing his mother in the office in passing, and broke out his homework for the day. Not that he needed the time to work on it, but it made dealing with his parents so much easier. The next time they would talk would be in passing at dinner, or perhaps tomorrow's breakfast. Then they'd all go their separate ways.

It used to bother him, how fractured his home life seemed. Parents were supposed to call home at night and make efforts to go on vacations, or bring souvenirs and tell stories when they went abroad. He often thought of Nanako and Dojima when his family's workings, which he often called 'selectively dysfunctional', came to mind. Despite the wrinkles and an occasional crack in their lives, those two were bound to each other like nothing he'd ever seen before. Affection, commitment, and a marrow-deep love that neither words nor distance could break.

Souji shook his head. He always got reminiscent and maudlin when thinking of his cousin and uncle. He'd see them soon enough, and have to think of a gift for Nanako before he left. His parents could tend to their own matters, he decided. It wasn't his problem.

They had their lives. He had his. And he wanted to see where his new life went.

Despite the return of his father, or perhaps because of it, the Seta household ran as it had when Souji, or either of his parents, hadn't been there, which was to say with smooth precision. Like a well-oiled machine, the trio worked around each others' schedules, completing what they needed with the others and taking their pre-set place in the house. Souji had his room while his parents shared the office, or traded use of it with the living area, and soon only his room, the bathroom, and the kitchen lacked his parents' writing utensils, post-it notes, and mini-calendars, set into a unique ordered chaos that, logically, should have set them at each others' throats. Instead, much as the cogs and gears turned, his parents moved around each other's habits with age-old familiarity. The TV was used only for the news and stock changes, someone's phone was always ringing, and dinner became an affair not unlike the breakfast buffet at a cheap hotel, no matter the menu. Thus Souji had no problem setting up his own space and disappearing with his basketball and gloves to the park.

True to their arrangement, Toyama and the team met with Souji after school and put their backs into a few games. Sometimes Souji sat back and observed, learning and making suggestions. Other times he helped Takenaka keep score or call penalties. But most times, he played as hard as he could, matching Toyama's skill with his own. Despite switching the team mates around and the regular betting, the two remained closely tied. It was heady and rich, every day leaving him exhausted and invigorated, but lacking in a way that aggravated him.

One thing the games offered Souji was the anticipation of high-intensity exercise and regular competition. When he'd been in the TV world, and particularly when he'd used his Personas, his body buzzed with an indescribable euphoria. Colours and sounds became almost painfully clear, tactile sensations were cranked to the maximum setting, and he felt like he was walking on clouds. Toyama's games were approaching that intensity; tangible, teetering, like a switch that was half-thrown and needed one last kick to complete the circuit. Souji could feel it, on the edge of setting off, but no matter how fast he ran or how close the score came, the switch stayed where it was. To one part of him, it was a relief. After all, it was far more than he'd felt before going to Inaba, so why be greedy? But to the other part, it was frustrating. His body and mind were braced for the sensations, pulled at them and left him feeling tense and on edge, like a sprinter waiting for the signal when the gun had jammed. He felt unsatisfied at the end of each game, no matter the outcome. Though he hated the comparison, it reminded him of his parents and their comments, between business meetings and phone calls, that as good as his marks were, they could always be better: the feeling that he had failed by 5% instead of succeeding by 95% dogged his tracks and dulled the joy the games used to carry.

The greatest reprieve from both the games and his parents, the cool mist to the fiery adrenaline and burning competition and dry half-life of home, was his regular calls to Yukiko. She'd returned to Inaba and spared no expense of time to regale him with her stories. Truth told, he didn't catch it all; just the sound of her voice, hearing her so animated and alive, was enough to put him into a peaceful languor that stilled the world around him and left him ready to face it after the end call button was pushed. The only drawback was how often he had to charge his cell phone and struggling to stay awake in class when their talks continued into the early hours of the morning, but he always felt it a fair trade. As the end of the month approached, their calls became less frequent despite the rising anticipation, and she would often pass on messages from the others. It felt like it was all coming together; now he had to wait.

It was a Saturday when it happened. Less than a week before he planned to leave.

The game was intense for only being half over. 5 on 5, Toyama and Souji on opposite sides, neck and neck like usual. Souji ran up the side, jockeying for a shooting position and watching the ball, when one of the other team members pivoted in front of him, freezing in shock at the imminent collision. Souji tried to twist out of the way, to backpedal and push sideways at the same time. Neither worked. He tripped over a leg and went down. His gloves spared his palms, though not his fingers or wrists, and his right leg and knee scraped on the asphalt, burning up his spine.

The switch flipped.

Whether it was the pain itself or the unexpectedness was drowned out as the volume amplified and the colours cut into his brain. The white of the backboard, the greens of the trees, the red basketball and the blue – the wide, deep blue that threatened to suck him up – of the sky sent his world into a tailspin. His heart thudded up his neck to his ears, the heat rising in his veins, and every hair and muscle fibre felt like it was expanding, pushing past the limits of his body. When he came back, he noticed a tremble to his hands that had nothing to do with the pain in his leg. The student he'd crashed into was sputtering apologies and asking if he was alright.

Was he alright? No, he thought through colour and clouds, he was miles beyond alright. That damnable lever had been kicked into place and was stuck on 'high'. And there was no way he'd miss this chance.

Brushing the student off with a ready grin, Souji rotated his ankle and put his weight on the scraped leg. The burning was there, twisting and tightening and holding the switch in place, and it melded with the euphoria. He caught the ball as it came to him. Free throw. He took to the three-point line, barely took the time to line up, and sunk it. The game was back on, and his feet pounded the ground with the same cadence as his heart. It was clear Toyama expected him to hobble or limp, but when Souji ran an interception down court, faster and smoother than ever before, the team captain gave a loud laugh and wild smile. "Now we've got a game going!"

Toyama's team put their all into the remaining ten minutes, but Souji was on cloud nine. He moved quicker, reacted faster, knew where the others were without looking, and seemed to be everywhere on the court. Sprinting up the side. Charging the middle. Passing back and running interception. He moved as part of the team, part of a river current and always knowing where to go.

The rest of the game passed in a flash of tensing muscle and tightening airways. Takenaka announced Souji's team the winners, and she neglected to mention exactly what the score was. The others groaned hoarsely at the breakneck pace the team leaders had set and Toyama approached with a spare towel and water bottle. Souji's lungs burned, but not as much as he expected. The same as his chest and legs. Despite the hyperawareness, his fatigue was a distant ache. He felt like he could do it all over again after running for miles. And part of his brain wanted it, demanded it. It thrummed through his veins with a heady insistence: More.

"Now I really regret not pushing you for the team," Toyama told him, handing the towel and water over. "I've never seen anyone move like that before. That always happen after you spill blood?"

Souji felt the euphoria slowly fade and evened out his breathing, trying to get his pulse under control. "Hasn't happened in a while. Never on the court, if that's any consolation."

Toyama quirked a frown, than grinned with a bemused shake of his head. "I guess it'll do. I mean, it's gonna kill team morale if you become a speed demon every time someone bumps into you."

"I'll try to keep it under control next time."

Toyama brushed the comment aside. "Hey, don't bother. Honestly, you look like you need to let go sometimes. If you hitting high gear on the court is what it takes, then at least it's during practice."

Souji took a swig of water, but nearly choked on it when something struck his mind. "You know what it's like?"

"Like you could pull a freight train or power a cargo ship with a bike generator?" Souji nodded. "It's happened, yeah. Not as often as I want, but it's there."

"Do you ever feel like it's about to... go off, but can't? Like a trigger of some kind?"

Toyama looked at him square-on, minus his usual grin. "Not really, no. It's either on or it isn't for me. Is that what's been bugging you the last few games?"

"Huh. I'm that obvious?"

"Not really. I never thought something was wrong; just that it was less right."

"It used to-" Souji bit his tongue. It felt like talking around a hippopotamus, not mentioning details about Inaba to anyone. "That is, before I moved here, from the end of March to the previous April, it was pretty regular. Easy to turn on, turn off, whatever. No problem. Since then it's felt like I was right on the edge, but couldn't get it."

"Huh. Like sex?"

Souji's slow descent to a normal heart rate rocketed up, and he sputtered in surprise. "What? Well, I guess that's a good- but- wait, where did that come from?"

Toyama shrugged with a smirk that reminded Souji far too much of Takenaka. "Like sex. On the edge, almost going over, but hitting a wall and not-"

"Okay, I get it."

"Obviously not. I mean, if you need pain to go over the edge, then you're not getting-"

"Toyama-kun," Souji growled, "do not finished that sentence."

"If it's a problem for you, I know some girls who could help you with it."

"Not necessary." Souji felt the heat dropping from his cheeks to his neck, and it had nothing to do with his adrenaline rush.

"No, you're right. There're lots of girls at school who'd gladly lend a hand in-"

"I told you, don't-"

"I mean, you're popular enough as it is, and there's no shame in asking for help in that area."

"Toyama-kun."

"Depending on how well both parties perform, you might become even more popular in-"

"Toyama!"

"Yes?"

"Shut. Up. Now."

The captain's face nearly broke from the smirk. "Just trying to help."

At that moment, as if summoned by Souji's desires for an escape and a chance to strangle his fellow student, Takenaka appeared at Toyama's side. "Yoshi-kun, what are you two talking about?"

The guys shared a long look, which was to say Toyama smirked and Souji glared. The unfamiliar expression pulled at his face, and added to his blooming headache. "Biology and chemistry. It seems Seta-kun is quite the science whiz, and we got to talking about chemical release properties, and how-" Toyama smirked dangerously "-messy they can be if done improperly."

Souji seethed, but Takenaka looked between them, an eyebrow cocked. "Really? Seta-kun looks pretty red."

"Science can be very stimulating, Megumi-chan."

Souji spun toward the bench with a growl. "I'm leaving."

"So soon?"

"Yes." Souji glared and smiled dangerously over his shoulder. "I wouldn't want to break your back by beating you too many times. Once is enough for me today." He'd hoped to wipe the smirk off Toyama's face, and he did; laughter rang over the court again and followed Souji to the sidewalk. Occupied with his thoughts as he was, he nearly parted company with his skin when Takenaka tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry. I have some shopping to do, and wanted to know if you'd accompany me."

Souji thought over the implications of being seen with the basketball captain's girlfriend, but shrugged it off. He'd been seen shopping with Yukiko and Ebihara often enough, and it would be good payback at Toyama. Cheap and childish, to be sure, but Souji wasn't above that on occasion. Nodding and following her lead, he fell into step beside Takenaka.

They made their way past his apartment and into the shopping centres. Souji was glad the euphoria on the court had faded earlier, or the noise and flashing lights would have put him in a seizure. While Takenaka shopped, he cleaned up his leg and bought a box of takoyaki, offering her some when she came out. As she chewed on the snack, her eyes turned pensive.

"Not everyone's happy with your part on the team, you know."

Souji stopped chewing, processing her words and choosing his own carefully. "Is that so?"

"There are some on the team who think you're trying to work your way into Yoshi-kun's good graces, and those of the head coach by extension."

"I don't want to be on the team. Sign-ups and selections close in a few weeks, so it should be obvious by then."

"Not to those who see you as a threat now. You're thinking logically. Those feeling threatened or jealous won't repay the courtesy. Especially after you single-handedly won the game today."

Souji shrugged, brushing the idea off. "It wasn't that big a deal. I just got into the game, that's all."

"You misunderstand. You didn't just have a run of good luck. You trounced their captain, the best player on the team, and some people who've lived for the sport for as long as they've been able to walk. They have a lot riding on their performance on the court, and you come out of nowhere to show them up. You can't walk away from that, and they might not let the matter drop."

"In that case, where does Toyama-kun fit in all this? How personally does he take basketball?"

"Not that personally. It'd be different if you were a stuck-up braggart like the others, but he likes you. He likes the challenge, and he lives for the chance to improve, among other things." Takenaka stretched her arms above her head, her chest pulling upward, and Souji briefly wondered what, or who, else Toyama lived for.

"He's going for a sports scholarship, I presume?"

"That's right. And he's not the only one. So even if you don't have a repeat of today, there're people on the team who want those opportunities, and don't like feeling threatened."

"I see. Do you know who they are?"

"No. I don't have names, but I have heard whispers. They're not the only ones, and they aren't the first, but they are the closest to you, considering."

"And why are you telling me this? So Toyama-kun won't lose a basketball buddy?"

"There's that, but also so he won't lose a prospective friend." At Souji's cocked eyebrow, she chuckled. "He hasn't come out and said it, and he probably won't, but he looks up to you. I think he sees you as a kindred spirit sometimes, or as part of the family. He's the oldest of four, after all." She picked another takoyaki ball from the box and popped it in her mouth. "As for me, I meant what I said before. There's more to you than meets the eye. You haven't tried to make a move on me, and you've had your share of chances." Souji bit his tongue, stopping the words 'I have a girlfriend' in their tracks. He didn't need a repeat of his earlier conversation, especially not with a girl as crafty as Takenaka Megumi. "You also keep to yourself at school, and I know there're girls who've made passes at you. But you treat everyone the same, so far anyway, and that's rare. So I guess you're interesting, Seta-kun. And I thought you should know."

"Thanks for the advice."

"No problem; it's free."

"Since you're in the know, do you have any suggestions?"

"Not really. If it's just rumours like usual, then you can do what you've been doing or find out who's behind them. What you do from there is up to you."

"But you don't think it's just more rumours, do you?"

"Exactly. But until you know who is doing it, there isn't much you can do. Unless you want to play detective and dig around yourself."

Souji finished the box off and tossed it into the nearby garbage can. "Play it by ear, huh?"

"That would be smartest, for what it's worth."

"Thanks again, Takenaka-san." Souji glanced at her with a half-smile. "You know, you're not so bad. Not what I expected when I met you either."

"Lay on the charm, Seta-kun," she chuckled. "What graciousness that I should be 'not so bad.'"

"Would you prefer 'tough girl with a heart of gold'?"

Takenaka looked at him archly. "That's pretty thick, but I am used to people looking at my heart." She took a deep breath to emphasize her point. Souji laughed. "Since we're being honest, will you be around next weekend? Yoshi-kun was invited to a party on Saturday, and I'm sure he'll invite you when he thinks about it. Not to mention that he's probably thinking of ways to get even with you for today."

Souji shook his head. "Would that I could, but I'm going out of town. Visiting friends and relatives out west."

"For the whole weekend?"

"That's the plan."

"Hm. Whereabouts?"

Souji thought about that for a moment. Inaba was hard enough to find on a transit map, so he doubted his classmates were familiar with it. "It's near Okina City. Rural place."

"Huh. Not sure where that is."

"About five hours away by train."

"I see. Good friends?"

Souji quirked another half-smile. "The best."

Takenaka's cell phone beeped insistently at her, which prompted her to stand when she saw the message on it. "That one's for me. I'll see you later, Seta-kun."

"Until next time, Takenaka-san."

The trip home was uneventful, though Souji's mind was occupied for every paving stone along the way. His time on the court left him feeling lighter than he had since he'd left Inaba, both in the exhilaration and the reassurance that he could still go that far. Takenaka's weekend offer and Toyama's ready friendship were unexpected and pleasant surprises. He hadn't expected to form connections with others so quickly, even after the bonds he'd forged among the investigation team. However unexpected they were though, they weren't unwelcome, and Takenaka's saucy bluntness and Toyama's bravado made him feel more welcome than any class or homeroom teacher ever had.

"I'm home," Souji called out of habit as he entered the apartment.

"Ah, Souji. Good timing," his father called from the living area. "We were just discussing the plans for next week."

"Plans?"

"This Friday. Nakamura and Ishikawa will be joining us for a business dinner. Families are in attendance, and so we will be there as well."

"I see. Well, I'm sure you and mother will enjoy yourselves."

Yuuma looked bemused for a moment, then quirked an eyebrow. "Families are in attendance Souji, which means you're coming too."

Souji froze mid-step. The breath seized in his chest and he almost stumbled from spinning around so fast. "What?"

"This Friday. The three of us. Business dinner. Party of about thirty-five people."

"I'm not- I can't go. I'll be in Inaba this weekend."

"Inaba? Why?"

"I told you, and mother, I'm going on Thursday morning. It's been on the calendar for weeks."

"Plans change. And have any of them come here yet?"

Souji choked down his retort, that he'd had numerous offers and questions about visits, and deflected them all. Kou and Daisuke had inquired about it, Yosuke made the suggestion once, and all the while the past events of having anyone close meet his parents rang in his ears. The last thing he wanted was to introduce anything related to Inaba to his parents. His anger, usually stilled and calm, climbed like mercury in a thermometer during a heat wave. "I've been planning this trip since I left, father. When were your business arrangements made?"

"They were finalized last night."

"I'll call in sick then. You can go without me"

"Souji," Yuuma's voice grew cold, firm, and lost none of its dispassionate edge. "This is not a vote, or a committee decision. Your time off school would be spent more productively here than playing with relatives in Inaba. We are expected to make a good showing, and so you will be with us. Am I in any way unclear?"

He refused to back down, drawing himself up. "No. Now let me be clear. How often do I ever ask you for favours? When was the last time I asked for anything from you or mother besides grocery money?"

"The meaningless argument aside, what does it matter?"

"I don't ask for much. Hell, I don't ask for anything from you. And for that, you can't get me out of an all-night meeting with your partners?"

"There's no sense in you not being there. You won't lose anything by staying here."

"What about keeping to my schedule and upholding my arrangements with friends and contacts? Or is that selective as well?"

"Mind your tone Souji. I won't say it again."

"Father, this trip is important to me. Your last-minute business partners aren't my priority. This isn't fair."

"I don't need to be. The arrangements have been made, and I won't have you disgrace us by acting like a child. Your mother's brother will cope with the change, as will any friends you still have there. They've probably forgotten you by now anyway. But you will be with us Friday evening, Souji. Understand?"

A lifetime of vitriol boiled up his throat like bile. Every missed birthday, every excuse, every time work trumped his life and he was expected to understand burned in his mind's eye. Words that had stewed in solitude for years hammered at his clenched teeth, demanding release as the two glared fiercely across barely three feet of dead air. He wanted to say it; how they couldn't expect him to act like their offspring when they didn't act like parents, how his accomplishments had nothing to do with them, how there was no way they'd understand the bonds he shared with his friends, and how utterly pitiful he thought the charade of their life was. Choose your fights, his experiences told him. It was the same voice that kept him alive in the TV world for so long, and the observations had been sharpened until it was almost never wrong. Fighting head-on without an advantage is foolish. Bide your time.

It was hard. No, the struggle was herculean. Holding back waves of memories and anger left him trembling in effort, and he felt his control barely hold together like strained yarn on his fingertips.

But it wasn't the first time. It was short-term, and it wouldn't last. None of the other times did either. He would endure, he would manage, and then he would run to the college closest to Inaba when he graduated. So, once he could trust his furious tongue, he struck his heels together and bowed sharply.

"As you wish, Father."