Disclaimer: Don't own Persona or any of the characters. So stop asking. Please.

Author's Note: A huge 'thank you' to everyone who's reviewed and/or alerted/faved this story! You guys are the reason… well, no, one of the reasons, but a big one, that I keep going on this. So, thanks to fox-white-moon, Blazehawkins, Coldman9, epitychia, Viktor Mayrin, and eggmiester. You guys rock! The feedback and commentary has been great thus far, and I hope things feel like they're picking up and not dragging. Also, for those who read the first 2 chapters earliest, I made some changes to Chapter 2, mostly regarding Souji's place in his new school and what some of the rumours and such going around were. One of my faithful fans (You know who you are) commented on that, and it made good sense, so let me know how it turned out. So, without further ado, on with the show!

Chapter 4

Souji fancied himself an intelligent person. He'd striven, all his life, for achievement and success in whatever he encountered. Sports, music, cooking, and especially academics. He'd met people who'd tested him in life, and he lived for the competition. Kou had challenged his limits on the basketball court, and he'd explored cooking on his own, doing it as much for personal enjoyment as for necessity. Yukiko had been his neck-and-neck rival in Yasogami academia, and his parents had pushed him to expand on his knowledge of languages and economics for as long as he could remember.

But for all his education, he couldn't think of one word that described how he felt right now.

Angry, seething, or downright pissed were trite, and didn't come close. Furious and enraged were better, but brought to mind images of furniture thrown out of windows and torched cars. And he hadn't gone that far.

No, even two days later, Souji still couldn't name the feeling, the violent fury that hammered in his veins when his mind's eye looked at the tatters that were his holiday plans. He was never one to hold grudges. He'd found it easier to either meet the matter head-on and live with the consequences or brush the matter aside and keep going. He'd spent his childhood in the company of broken promises, and he'd have died of an ulcer by now if he'd held on to his parents' word and anything they said or did. In the end his stress management tactics involved music, either making or listening, distance and time from the problem, quiet focus on his school work, or something athletic and incredibly sweaty.

Those tactics weren't working. He'd paced his room, swearing in as many languages as he could (Japanese, Korean, English, and some Spanish and Mandarin for good measure), for hours before sending out the text messages. The sheer number of recipients meant he'd sent the message in four clusters. The memory of why he was sending them came back with the tap and click of every key, and he'd stopped halfway, contemplating images of his fists meeting the wall before snapping the phone shut. Then those he had contacted sent their replies, and they read much as he'd expected. Dojima, Yosuke, Kanji, Chie, and Kou had fingers on the pulse of that message, and by the time he'd gotten through them, the fury was deafening, blinding, and he had to get out of the house. Staggering and barely remembering his keys, he got through the door before the seductively violent compulsions overpowered him. He was halfway to the basketball court when he got Yukiko's reply. He couldn't open it. He knew she would be curious and probably understanding, and he knew, in his state, what he'd say. She deserved better than to be a soundboard for his ravings, no matter how good it might feel afterward.

And it had bled into his life for days. The anger smeared the walls of his classes, drowned the calls from Inaba, choked off his usual banter at school, and drenched Toyama and the basketball games in furious, oily red. He'd been too angry the first day to be of any use on the court, and took the bench after ten minutes. He tried focusing and offering helpful advice, but those damned words kept echoing in his head. And the anger was always there. Bottled up and waiting to go off. He knew it had to end, and thought of a way, any way, to choke it back for good.

Finally, resigned to the dinner meeting, unwilling to read all the replies on his cell, and unable to even look at his parents without contemplating murder, he snapped the phone open and made a call. One ring. Two. Three. Fo-

"Shirogane residence."

"Yakushiji-san? It's Seta-kun, Dojima-san's nephew."

"Ah yes, Seta-kun. How have you been?"

"I… that's a long story, and I won't bore you with it. Is Naoto-kun in?"

"She is. One moment."

The line went quiet, but, sooner than he expected, the voice of a partner in crime rang in his ear. "Senpai?"

"Hey Naoto-kun."

"Yosuke-senpai and I have been calling since we received the message. What's happened? Why the sudden change in plans?"

"That's why I'm calling. I need help."

"Doing what? You said just last week that you had the tickets paid for-"

"That's why I need help. My parents-" how the acid in his voice didn't melt his phone and gloves, he'd never know "-decided to take up my Friday evening with a business meeting without telling me in advance. They also didn't tell me that families would be present, so my travel plans are scrapped."

"Didn't they know you had the weekend planned?"

Souji grimaced, feeling like he'd bitten a lemon garnished with turpentine. "My mother knew, and my father might have, but my plans don't count for much here."

"And visiting relatives and friends isn't reason enough to let you go?"

"You don't know them, Naoto-kun. Business and prestige mean everything to them. My plans are a peripheral concern at best, and this wouldn't be the first time."

There was a heavy pause on the line, and her voice was weak, brittle. "Is it really that bad, Senpai?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Dojima may be harsh sometimes, but he understands that family's family. Most of the time. They're nothing like him; trust me on that." Souji took a deep breath, reining in the flaring anger. "I'm calling because I don't plan on taking it lying down. If I have to hitchhike back to Inaba, I will, but everything I can think of ends badly for me when I get back."

"What do you need? How can I help?"

"Can you think of any way I can bypass my parents and make it to Inaba without alienating them too much?"

"Th- that's… Senpai, I'll help you any way I can, but that's a tall order on such short notice."

"I know. There's a little time, but I can't think straight right now."

"Very well. If I'm going to work around them, I'll need some information."

Souji paused, the turpentine and lemon rising to his mouth again while his rationality and desire to see his friends again warred with a life where his parents held the keys to every door and window. Finally biting back the reluctance, he told her what he knew about his parents. Their business schedules, their accomplishments, favoured work associates and business lunch restaurants, preferred suit types, and how he could set his watch to his mother's schedule regularity while his father's presence was an elusive, smoky thing. He could name the various partners and coworkers they'd had, when and where they'd had them, and familial details he'd learned from years of group meetings. Facts, figures, information without context that rattled off his tongue and dried his lips in passing, their emptiness clogging his head with thick apathy like a cold.

"Senpai," Naoto cut in finally, "is there anything non-work-related you can tell me about them?"

He thought about it, calling the memories forth. It wasn't hard. Those paths were well-worn from travel, paved grey walkways and iron gates faded with use, blandly familiar, and utterly unchanged across time. Images and memories, leeched of colour and sound and feeling, rattled with age and neglect. "Nope."

"…Nothing, Senpai?"

"They live for their jobs, Naoto-kun. Appointments, structure, and prestige."

"I find that hard to believe. Everyone is deeper than that."

He knew that. He'd seen it firsthand, and the repression of that emotional depth had cracked his ribs more times than he'd had ribs to count. But… "Not them. And there isn't much time to learn more before the weekend. So, can you help me?"

"Give me some time, Senpai."

"Thanks, Naoto-kun. I owe you."

"I require some time for this endeavour, Souji-senpai. Even so, I make no promises."

"I know, but it helps to talk about this once in a while. And the others… I don't know if I could have told Yosuke all this, you know?"

"In a sense, I suppose. I'm not sure I believe all of it though. I love my Grampa more than life itself, and, if you're an indication, I don't think your parents are that shallow. But, I'm glad I could help. I'll be in touch." She hung up, leaving Souji with a dead tone in his ear. He cut the line and tossed his cell on his desk, stretching and popping his joints, one at a time, before laying back on his futon. He fell into the habit of counting the ridges and spots on the ceiling, letting his mind wander.

It could have gone better. He knew bringing his family life into contact with anything from Inaba was going to cause friction. Much as the Investigation Team had their baggage, none of them railed against their families like he did. Parents and grandparents were loved as much as he did Nanako and Dojima, and even Kanji, the proverbial hell raiser, had his mother close at mind in everything he did. He didn't know how much more he could have told Naoto before she started crediting the words to anger and frustration-fuelled fiction. Still, he hadn't lied. And that the most stable of the group had difficulty absorbing the sad state of his home life only reinforced his decision to keep it separate from Inaba and all that lay within. Still, the adult in him knew that Yukiko was curious about his family, no matter how well he dodged the issue before, and that any relationship with her was going to involve some long conversations and growing pains. Hell, he hadn't even met her parents yet, let alone broached the topic of his.

His anger took more out of him than he expected; his last thoughts involved Yukiko and his family when he drifted off to sleep.

Rise's Heartbreaker rang from his desk, snapping him out of a groggy sleep and reeling him toward his phone. His prized reflexes were sluggish and clumsy, so much so that he missed his footing twice in a distance of 12 feet. Catching his phone on the fourth ring, he muttered groggily, "Hello, this is Seta."

"Senpai. It's Naoto."

Souji glanced blearily at his clock, then blinked in surprise. He'd been asleep for hours, and rather than perking him up, it had left sandpaper on his eyelids and motor oil in his veins. "Thanks for calling back. So, any ideas?"

"Are you well? You sound terrible."

"Then I sound how I feel. Dunno why though; you woke me up."

"My apologies."

"No worries. I'll take another nap after I'm done here." He yawned heavily, feeling his jaw crack and creak with the effort.

"I see. Well, I have an idea that bears some merit, but it relies on your acting abilities in the presence of your parents."

That woke him up. Well, it only left him a bit less groggy, but she had his attention. "Go on."

"You mentioned that it's your father's affair you'll be attending. How long will it go on for?"

"Late evening, early morning sometimes."

"And afterwards?"

"I don't follow."

"Is your attendance required after the affair?"

"Not usually, but I doubt he'll let me go without a good reason this time. Seems I pissed him off."

"Then your skills as a thespian are all the more important."

"Tell me what you've got in mind, Naoto-kun."

"Your father strikes me as a professional financier, so business opportunities are never far from his mind. He also expects order and structure, or at least the appearance of such, with you. What if he were convinced he could have both?"

Souji mulled it over, or as much as he could through several yawns. "It'd make his day, I imagine."

"And you could be in Inaba early the following morning. Have you checked the train schedules?"

"Not recently, no. Tell me more about this idea."

"You will tell him that, in the interest of learning the trade of connections and partnerships, you need to come to Inaba to better establish a rapport with the local business owners."

"What businesses? We have a Junes here, you know."

"Yes, but not a Tatsumi Textiles, or the Amagi Inn. Those are unique to Inaba, correct?"

That hit home. Damned if she didn't have a point. "Well... that makes sense, especially to go in person. But those are too small. He'll expect something bigger, more permanent."

"From himself or a partner, certainly. But maybe not his son. You will convince him of your interest in learning his trade, and to do so, you need to start with smaller entities, those you already have a connection with. I imagine he'll see it as a long-term investment, and evidence of his son following in the family business. Like giving a small allowance for trading stocks, to see how you do. You keep in his good graces, and you will probably have a free pass to Inaba whenever you wish."

"He'll get suspicious. A few days ago I was ready to kill him. Now I'm turning it around and buttering him up, saying I was wrong?"

"Hence the acting skills, Senpai."

"I don't know, Naoto-kun. It seems too easy."

"It needn't be difficult. Often the best plans are the most straightforward, or at least have many such steps in them. And your father isn't a mind-reader, so while he may be sceptical, he probably won't refuse you on principle. Especially if you bring back proof of your contacts and business meetings."

Souji snorted. "Now I feel cheap, using my friends' families as a finance experiment."

"You might have need of them in the future. Regardless, that is the plan. I will investigate the night train schedules while you put it all in action."

"Wait, you expect me to do this now?"

"He'll expect resistance closer to the date. Now would be the best time."

"I'm still not sold on this. It really seems too simple to work."

"There's only one way to know, Senpai. I wish you luck." And she hung up.

Souji stared at the phone for a long while before snapping it closed and tossing it back on his desk. Try to pull one by his father? It made sense to try, but he had no idea how to do it. He and his father didn't talk. Ever. They didn't discuss, converse, gossip, chat, or bullshit. He'd never sat down and talked to the man about anything besides work. Not about school, teachers, girls, or shaving. The only time they did talk about anything, much as he could trust his groggy memory right now, was on how to tie and wear a tie, and what types went best with which suits.

Stop making excuses, the back of his mind snapped. Naoto's plan is the best chance you have, so just man up and do it.

He had to wonder when his rationality started sounding like Kanji...

He checked the clock again. 8:51PM. Straightening his back and shaking the sand out of his head, he left his room and went to his parents' office, trying not to let the nervous tingle in his hands show. His father was on the phone, but paused momentarily at his son's entrance. Souji leaned against the wall and glanced around the room, not establishing eye contact until he absolutely needed to.

"I'll get back to you, Ishikawa. We'll be in touch." Yuuma set the receiver down and steepled his fingers. "Did you need something, Souji?"

Here we go. He took a deep breath and focused on keeping his voice steady. "I was out of line earlier. Regarding the dinner meeting. I wasn't happy about the change in plans, and I'm still not, but I shouldn't have reacted that way."

The senior Seta blinked twice, then leaned back in his chair. "Indeed you shouldn't have, Souji. Regardless of your opinion of these event, they are to your benefit. And I won't have you acting like a child in my own house."

The tone was what Souji expected his father sounded like at the office, though more condescending. His retorts scraped and clawed at his throat, fighting to get out. He choked them down and hoped the effort didn't show. "Of course, father. I apologize."

"Furthermore, I expect your best behaviour Friday night. I won't tolerate you humiliating us in front of others. Your planned excursion to Inaba isn't worth that; nothing is."

"Yes father. Again, I apologize."

"Hmph. Accepted. Was that all?"

"While we're here, I thought I should clarify something. One of my reasons for going to Inaba was to meet some business owners. It's for this finance portfolio idea I've been thinking of lately."

Yuuma looked interested - which was to say that one eyebrow arched a sixteenth of an inch higher than the other. "Go on."

"Some of the friends I made in Inaba are connected to some of the more profitable and successful local businesses. I know it's not much, but I thought it'd be a good place to start if I'm going to get into finance and economics someday."

A long pause. Yuuma's gaze became a cutting stare, and Souji fought to keep still. Come on. All the Shadows you've fought, chasing a murderer into the TV, and even beating back Izanami. This is nothing. Focus, dammit. "Why now? You've never shown an interest in finances before."

"Well, I learned a lot while I was there, father. And I can't keep going to school forever. Besides, I have two good examples to follow right here at home."

Yuuma's stare didn't subside, and Souji wondered for a moment if he'd laid it on too thick. The man was used to being flattered by professionals, after all. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I probably should have, but I've been getting to know some of the people at school the last little while. And you got home only recently, so..."

"And these people are the reason for those arm bands you're wearing?"

The question caught him flat-footed, leaving him stunned. It shouldn't have. He'd expected queries about the gloves and wraps, but not here and not now. "Uh, w-well, yeah."

"That's not very convincing, Souji."

"I wasn't expecting the question, father."

"Hm. And do they mean anything?"

"Not really, no. It's just... it's 'in' now, that's all."

"You've never shown an interest in fashion before."

Souji immediately keyed into the opportunity. "Well, one of my friends in Inaba lives in a textile shop. I learned a few things from him, and he's someone I planned on talking to for this project."

"Textiles? A male child in textiles?"

"Yes. Their work's pretty impressive."

"And how long have they been in business? It's a waste of your time if they lack a solid reputation."

"He didn't say, but his parents learned from their parents, and it's been in the same town the whole time, so..."

"I see."

Probably not, but Souji wasn't about to jinx his luck. In fact, he couldn't resist stacking the deck a little more. "They do a lot of business for a local ryokan, the other business I wanted to contact."

Now he looked interested. "Really?"

"Complete with hot springs and everything."

"Hm. So why tell me all this now?" Souji kept silent for a moment. "Come now, Souji, you haven't told me all this for my benefit, have you?"

Steadying himself for the last act in the little drama, he put on a half-smile. "I felt the best way to work on this portfolio would be in Inaba, and that I could take a train there after the meeting on Friday."

Another long pause. "For how long?"

"I'm not sure yet. Monday, maybe longer."

"I'll want to see this portfolio of yours when you get back. If you're going to get into finance, you need to do it right."

"Of course."

"It's a challenge, Souji, to make it as far as your mother and I have."

Yuuma Seta wasn't the only astute male in the room. Souji knew he wasn't only speaking in the past tense. He couldn't help but feel like he was signing a deal in blood with the devil himself, but the picture of the group flashed in his mind, and he knew he wouldn't, couldn't, do anything else. "I understand, father."

"Good. Let us know when you expect to leave. The meeting should be done by 1:30 at the latest."

"Thank you, father." Yuuma turned to the phone, clearly considering the matter closed, and Souji returned to his room as calmly as he could. It was only then that he saw the distinct shake in his hands.

Had that happened? He'd had a conversation with his father that didn't end in a phone ringing or a shouting match, he'd been able to stomach the talk of finance and business and use it to his advantage, and he'd changed his father's mind about the trip to Inaba, albeit still delayed. It was strange new territory. It was something normal families probably did regularly. It was utterly alien, and it was too much for one night. He flipped his phone open and caught a text message from Naoto.

Kofu prefectural train station to Inaba, 2:05AM Saturday morning. Is this satisfactory?

~Naoto

Souji blinked at the message for a while before sending one of his own.

How did you know the plan succeeded?

There was a short pause before the cell chirped in response.

I have the utmost faith in you, Senpai. Handling a parent, no matter how difficult, hardly seems like the most challenging thing you've done.

And you had faith in your own plan, no doubt.

Naturally. Souji could picture Naoto's smirk, as though he were daft for ever doubting her.

The timing works fine.

Then I'll contact the others.

Don't bother. I'll do it. They should hear it from me.

As you wish, Senpai. Until then.

It took a while, sending out the good news to everyone along with a half-vague explanation of what the problem had been, but it lacked anger this time. He sent a more in-depth message to Dojima, Yosuke and Yukiko, making plans for lodging, and finally crawled over to his futon and fell asleep.

If there was anything his pre-Inaba life had taught him, it was the value of information and focus. The Inaba murders had emphasized those values, especially in that order. It was why Souji Seta had passed up the chance at venting and sweating on the court earlier that afternoon, why his exercise for the day involved stretches and recitations of names, companies, and economic figures, and why he was twirling four pens through the fingers of each hand: he was preparing with an intensity that wouldn't have been out of place on a rainy Inaba night. Much as he disliked the business meetings, no matter how good the food was, much as he disliked the people, no matter how well-dressed, he'd given his word that he'd attend. And Souji Seta didn't do things half-assed. So he'd play his part, the role of the attentive and intelligent son of a corporate guru, he'd mouth the pleasantries and show his knowledge of the marketplace, and all the while he'd be counting down the minutes until his train left.

His parents thought it meant acceptance of his place in the family and dedication to following their examples. Since they never asked him about it, he never bothered to correct them. Why let the truth of a matter tear a perfect veil of assumptions?

The thoughts and facts became the gears of a well-oiled engine: clicking and shifting in synchrony, smooth and unhurried, shifting up and down on command. Clean and exact.

His wardrobe matched his mindset. Calculation. Precision. No wasted motion or uncontrolled expression. Pressed white shirt and black slacks, leather belt, polished shoes and watch, cleaned jacket and tie, and new, full-fingered gloves. Each article went on like battle armour, girding mind and body alike for the challenges ahead. In the TV he'd used his swords and Personas. Now he had his wits and information. In the same way, the arena awaited.

His mother called, telling him the ride was ready. Squaring his shoulders and hefting his bags, he followed them to the cab, nodding politely when she commented on his appearance, and kept the cabbie company as his parents went over their own preparations.

The building was a literal trip down memory lane. Much like his house, it could have been any one of the dozens he'd seen in his childhood. The same servants at the doors, the same business associates in the lobby to greet them, no matter their names, the same wives or partners or escorts with the same smattering of progeny expected to take on the family business. The lights and scent were the same, the same style of doorframes, and even the wallpaper of the expansive room and grain of the wood in the tables wasn't new. It was surprising how comforting the familiarity was now, like laying face-up in a stream and going with the current. He made his bows and gave his greetings, and it wasn't long before they were at the tables. The etiquette, the food, the small talk before business, all the same.

"Seta-kun. Your father tells me you're following in the family footsteps."

Maybe not entirely the same.

"That's correct, Ishikawa-san. I'm conducting a business experiment in Inaba actually, and will be going there tomorrow."

"Inaba?"

"Yes. I spent the last year there and made some valuable contacts." The words rotted in his mouth, but it never showed in his voice or expression.

Ishikawa turned to his father. "Very impressive, Seta-san. Your son shows remarkable foresight. Would that we all had such diligent successors." Then he looked back at Souji. "I trust these contacts will prove lucrative in the future?"

"Of course, Ishikawa-san. I wouldn't invest in them otherwise." He was proud that he hadn't choked on the words. The conversation shifted, and Souji maintained the chatter with the women and other young adults while imagining Kanji's desk or Chie's boot getting intimately acquainted with the older man. The thought of Chie landing a critical hit, or Rokuten Maoh turning Ishikawa's precious car, a marvel of Japanese engineering that was more expensive and delicate than a nuclear power plant, into a Rubix cube, kept his smile genuine for the rest of the night.

He'd expected the time to drag by, but his regular contributions kept his mind busy. He discussed the finer points of foreign capital investment with Ishikawa on his father's behalf, chatted with his mother about competitive property interest rates, and in general showed off his business acumen and academic prowess for "the sake of the family", all the while dodging the expected pitfalls in the conversations. Every time someone mentioned a "closer working relationship" between the families, his ears perked up like radio antennae, especially if the speaker had any daughters. More than once he'd had to dodge the prospect of a business-inspired arranged marriage. And he'd made a distinct point of saying "I'll get back to you on that" when he was asked to sign anything.

Finally the crowds diminished, many taking cabs or leaning on servants to drive them, inebriated and bloated with self-importance, home. Souji called a cab just before saying his farewells to his parents, nodding through the reminders of the business portfolio, and had just changed jackets when a horn blared from outside. Time to go.

Souji shouldered through the crowd to the cab, tossing his bags in the back and slipping into the front seat. He nodded jerkily at the driver before giving him the destination and promising him a tip if he got there on time. Evidently the driver wanted the money, because the next sound to be heard was screaming tires and a roaring engine. Even with the seatbelt on, Souji braced himself against the dashboard to keep steady. He didn't mind; every block brought him closer to Inaba and further from Kofu. When he did come to a jarring halt, he tossed a handful of bills, probably double the fare, to the driver and was up the steps with his bags faster than he'd ever run for a train before. The tickets were waiting for him at the kiosk and he bolted for the platform, getting to the rails just as his way west arrived. The conductor quirked an eyebrow at his appearance – half-tucked shirt, skewed tie, casual jacket, high-end gloves, and only one shoe laced up – obviously used to people not having that much energy so early – or late – in the day. Still, Souji got on the train, set his bags in the compartments, and rested back into a seat that felt just like the one he'd been in coming back from Inaba. An enormous weight eased off his shoulders, like a block of ice beginning to melt, at the thought of leaving Kofu behind. He could feel the tension oozing out of his pores, sliding down his body into a messy puddle on the floor, and he relished the feeling so much that he was still revelling in it when it pulled him to sleep.

He'd been here before. The first time was when he'd arrived in Inaba, distant and expecting only drab grey and quiet. Later, he regularly used the platform to hit up Okina City with whichever friend or acquaintance he was with. The last time had been to a chorus of well-wishes and tears and promises, all of which echoed in his ears now. Only that last time did he appreciate the view from the platform, the sprawling town below. The same feeling met him the moment he stepped off the train, grabbing him tightly and not letting go, joyously cranking every sensation to its max setting. The greens and browns of hills and homes almost painful in the early dawn, the birds singing sharp and clear as glass, the scent of loam and chlorophyll hitting him like a punch, and even the grey concrete seemed to pulse with life under his feet.

He could have stood there longer and waxed poetic about how clean the air was, how the countryside was better for his soul, or just how gods-damned good it felt to be back. Given the time and tools, he could even try his hand at a sketch of the sunrise and write a few haikus about it. But after an evening of schmoozing with two-faced businessmen and more than five hours on a train, sleeping or not, he needed something more invigorating than country air and licking a light socket combined: caffeine, pure and simple.

The nearby vending machines provided two doses of his desired nutrient (he refused to call it an addiction), and he distinctly avoided the telltale blue-and-white buttons. So long as he lived, he'd never again touch another container of TaP, no matter the size or circumstance. His stomach twisted and gurgled like a horse with food poisoning even knowing the dreaded substance was nearby, and he swiftly made his way down to the street, chugging back the first liquid stimulant without taking a breath and already contemplating the second.

The walk to the Dojima residence worked with the drinks to wake him up, as did the bright May sunrise. He could have taken Dojima up on the offer for a lift, but he figured his uncle would be busy keeping Nanako busy – there was no doubt in his mind that his cousin was vibrating with enough energy to power their entire block. Besides, he could use the time to pull his thoughts into some semblance of order. People and places, times and faces, they all rebounded around his skull demanding his attention, then fading to smoke and whispers when they had it. The ones that did stick were the names of the investigation team, his school friends, and his family. Finding enough hours in the day for everyone this weekend going to be a challenge, but, then again, he'd made a lifestyle of it less than three months ago.

His lodging came into view as he turned the corner, and the trip up to the front door passed in a haze. He fished his keys out of a pocket, all attached to the keychain Yukiko'd given him at Christmas, and picked out the Dojima residence key, a thrill running through him at its familiarity as where he was finally hit home. He slipped the key home, snapped open the lock, and slid the door open, every motion smooth from habit. Then he said the words, meaning them more now than ever and feeling distinctly right when they passed his lips.

"I'm home."

Author's Note: And here we are! Please don't forget to review. If you like it, let me know why. Don't like it, do the same. The 'it's awesome!' messages feed my ego, aye, but I like to know if I'm coming up short anywhere. So, hit the button! They're carrots for the plot bunnies.