Author's Note: Sincere apologies to everyone for how long this one took to get out. Despite how straightforward the idea was, the words just wouldn't come out. Plus RL and such got in the way more than I should've let it. So if I missed anything, kindly let me know, yeah?

The observant have likely seen that Continuance now has a cover aside from my own Satanic icon, used with the permission of RaizukiLee, the original creator on DeviantArt. Usual disclaimers apply. Thanks to all for reading, faving, following, or reviewing the story. A deep 'thanks' to my regular audience, and welcome to all my new readers.

Hope you still have your umbrellas and flashlights.

Chapter 15

It was strange how different ceiling tiles were across Japan, despite their having the same manufacturer and identical designs. It was something that threw him off in Inaba, how the ceiling in the living room and his bedroom were asymmetrical and lacked the prefabricated feel of every house he'd ever lived in. The Amagi Inn was even more alien in its hand-crafted feel, with individual planks of wood catching his eye every time he was there. Never mind the fine china and the sheer feel of age and decorum that saturated the hallways and rooms, the ceiling and the floors were what stuck out in his mind as a true division from the prefabricated shells he'd known all his life.

The first cookie-cutter design he'd noticed, the product of a long, sleepless night when he'd been eleven, was a grey flea-bitten surface surrounded by sharp, clean lines exactly ten inches from corner to corner. It looked like someone trying to border in a patch of sand at the beach, only the idea was ridiculous to Souji, even at that age, and so he'd never warmed up to the view. The next house had white stippling with bumps and a needle-like surface, and during days when he'd been truly bored he'd counted and laid out the spikes on a grid in his mind, often only to lose count and start over. Next was an even, unbroken ceiling of paint and drywall mud. He hated that design; it felt like the padded room of a hospital for the clinically insane. The designs began to vary a little, but despite the attention he gave them in his idle time, he never found one he truly liked. It kept his mind sharp, but dulled his usual keen interest and eye for detail. And that hadn't changed, not across the years or the miles since his childhood. Even now, he was staring up at an unbroken ceiling and wishing he could turn his head for a change of view.

"I'm off," Yuuma called over his shoulder out of habit, expertly juggling work attaché, long coat, cell phone and umbrella all at once.

"Have a good day," Souji replied dully, laying on the couch and facing away from the entrance, the morning after his scrap in the park. He snorted softly as his father opened and shut the door without a backward glance, not noticing the frozen gel pack on his son's face. Souji pulled the frigid compress away for a moment and gingerly poked his face with his fingers, grimacing when the throbbing pain and dull ache persisted. It didn't feel like he'd broken anything, and he'd taken harder hits than what Yuhara and his flunkies could dish out. But that didn't change the fact that it still hurt. At least his ribs weren't sore anymore – he had his scars to thank for that.

Souji flipped the gel pack over and pressed it against a new area, suppressing a hiss of pain. Thanks to the rain and colder temperatures, there wasn't much swelling to contend with. And after Inaba, he didn't bruise easily either – he turned faded yellow instead of black and blue, which suited his hair and skin much better. But laying on his couch on a Sunday and tending his wounds, staring at the ceiling and counting the bumps and ridges where the contractors had cracked and patched the surface, was becoming frustrating, enough so that he didn't hear his mother approaching to head out the door as well, talking smoothly into the phone in her hand.

"I'll see you later, Souji," she told him after twisting her cell phone out of the way.

Souji waved in reply, not turning over or looking back. The movement, however, called Izumi's attention to her son, and she stopped moving toward the door.

"I... Souji, what- What? No, I'm here. Something's come up though, I'll call you back." And she snapped her phone shut before stepping over to the couch. Her son looked up curiously, not the least bit abashed or concerned that she saw him in that state, one half of his face lightly bruised and an icepack covering the other half.

"Is anything wrong, Mother?" Souji asked as calmly as ever. "It's not like you to cut off work calls like that."

She dropped her attaché case and tossed her coat onto the back of the couch. "What happened to you?"

Souji shrugged, as best he could while laying on the couch. "I got into a fight last night. Nothing serious." He turned his stare back to the ceiling. Four. Five. Six- wait, was that a lump?

"Nothing serious?" Izumi asked incredulously, standing in front of the couch. "Let me see."

"Don't worry about me, Mother. You're going to be late."

"I'm not asking again," she told him firmly, a hard set to her features Souji hadn't seen before. "Let me see."

Souji blinked at her, a touch bemused by a strong side, or at least a less accommodating one, to his mother, but pushed himself off the couch, then to his feet before tossing the icepack to the nearby table and facing her. She immediately pushed herself up to look closer at the bruises, her fingers raising as though to move his head to one side or the other, before he brushed her hands aside. "No need to make it worse," he murmured.

Her expression was conflicted, troubled, and she restrained herself from touching him, but then didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. "Does it hurt?" she asked finally.

Souji shrugged. "It's fine."

"I didn't ask if it was fine," she replied immediately. "I asked if it hurt."

He chuckled at the sight of her, face stern and eyes hard, alive with a spark of anger, watching his every move with more interest than he could ever remember seeing in either of his parents, or even both of them combined. He regretted his humour when the action pulled his face in different directions. "Fair enough. Yes, it hurts, but not as much as last night."

"Why did you get in a fight in the first place?"

Souji's face froze in place. He felt his face settle coldly and his eyes ice over. And it had nothing to do with the gel pack. "Exceptional circumstances."

Izumi waited for something more. Nothing was forthcoming except Souji giving her a calmly raised eyebrow that said "anything else?" like he'd shouted it. Until then, she'd never realized how expressive her son could be without actually saying anything. Or rather, that his expressions were in what he wasn't saying as much as what he was. Had she not been struck still by the unusual sight of Souji, usually so placid and calm that missing him in a room was second nature, with bruises marring his face, she might have thought on that point more.

"What sort of exceptional circumstances?" she pressed when it became clear he wasn't offering more information. "You've never been in fights before."

"A friend of mine was being harassed by some drunks," he replied, expression and tone not changing in the least. "I wasn't in a position to leave unharmed, and wouldn't have ditched her even if I were."

"That's what we have police for," she replied sharply, disappointment edging her voice. "You should have called them. And what were you doing out last night anyway?"

"I lost my phone."

She looked at him closer to tell if he was lying. What little of him she could read told her he wasn't. "You lost it?"

"Well, I don't have it with me now. I have some calls to make later on today, maybe someone found it."

Izumi's cell began to ring. She reached for it reflexively, then stopped herself to look at Souji. "What aren't you telling me?"

Then the house phone began to ring as well. Souji pointed toward the door. "You're going to be late, Mother. I'm not going anywhere today. I'll be fine." The words weren't said in an apologetic or reassuring tone, but rather with an enduring resignation as though he were reading from a grocery list.

"You're treating this like it's nothing," she noted sharply, growing from a stern but inquisitive look to a full glare, perhaps one of the first he'd had directed at him in years.

It still wasn't enough to break his cold aplomb. "Because it isn't. There are more important things going on in this house than what I do, Mother, and I know that very well. You should be going. Your appointments aren't going to wait." When she eased her stance back but didn't turn to leave, he reassured her with "I'll be fine."

Duty called, or rather duty to one's corporate masters did, and she collected her effects and made her way to the door slowly, taking one last look at her son. He shooed her out the door. "Don't start worrying about me, Mother." He turned back to his thawing gel pack and sat on the couch again. Before the door could close, he let his facade drop and muttered coldly, "you don't have the practice; you'd probably get it wrong."

He'd never know if she heard him or not as she left for work, considerably less sure of herself and her son than she'd been just a few minutes before.

Souji's day improved from there in that, by the time he'd left for school the next morning, his cell phone was back in his possession, along with his wallet and the hat he'd lost at the party. Inoue had sent his assistant over with the effects. What Souji wasn't expecting when he opened the door was to be handed the largest basket of fruits and nuts he'd ever seen, along with an accompanying basket, smaller in size and larger in cost and value, of high-end coffee packages from brands he'd never be able to afford on his own. When he insisted it was too much, the assistant pointed at the very clear tag on both baskets that read "Not for Return or Resale", and disappeared before Souji could stop him. "It's the least I can do," Inoue said over the phone as Souji walked to school that day. "You were invaluable. Rise gave me the details yesterday, and we've taken some steps to keep things under wraps, where both of you are concerned. So you don't need to worry about any phone calls from magazine producers this time."

Nice and vague. Souji hadn't heard anything about the party on the news, but, for fear of jinxing his presence there and seeing his face on TV again, he hadn't been looking very hard. It was good to hear there was a tighter lid on matters this time, especially if it meant he didn't need to go through a repeat performance of last time. "Did the photographer at least come through?"

"After Rise told me some things about the evening that certain parties want kept quiet, he became very accommodating."

"Well there's that much, at least."

"Again, I'm sorry you were put in that position. Things shouldn't have gone sideways like that."

Souji shrugged, entering the school courtyard and ignoring the stares from some of his classmates. "No worries. What happened in the park was long overdue, and was more my fault than anything. And none of us saw the stuff someone brought in the first place, so there was no avoiding it. And things worked out alright, no?"

"That they did, and I appreciate it, Souji-kun. Take care."

"I will."

He snapped his phone shut and dropped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He hadn't even made it to the front doors and people were already whispering around him, and he had to stop himself from turning no less than four times when one student or other started pointing at him to the others. And he didn't need to hear what they were saying; despite the freezing and relaxation of the day before, he was still battered and bruised, and it showed. He didn't let it slow him down, but it was clear that there'd be more tall tales for the mill in no time at all.

Perhaps there was someone on campus who dealt in rumours – Souji was sure he was due some royalties for all the gossip he kicked up.

He stopped at his locker, changed his shoes, and headed up to class when he saw Yuhara and his flunkies, some of whom weren't at the park that night, chatting and laughing in the hall. The crowd around them might have been out of place if there weren't already basketball fans that followed them religiously, but the chatter was restrained this time. And Souji stopped when he came into view so the dark, cruel little bastard in his heart could enjoy his handiwork. And the sight brought a cold upturn to his lips.

Of the six Souji recognized, half of them were sporting bruises and scrapes of various colours and sizes. One was breathing lightly and looked like he was working hard not to straighten up too much, while the other had a distinct line of unmarked skin running between two black-blue bruises, evidently from where Souji had introduced him to the pavement. Both looked at the exchange student, at the eye of the hurricane he inspired just by standing there, and clammed up immediately. Yuhara, with his knuckles notably black and some bruises smattered across his face, glared fiercely at Souji, but kept his mouth shut. The loudest of the group, a short student Souji had never been introduced to, stared at him with a cocky smile.

"Well lookit you! How's the face, pretty boy?" Yuhara and his other flunkies didn't say anything to stop the little loudmouth, but their eyes avoided Souji's stare. Except Yuhara himself. His was a cold stare filled with a mix of apprehension, anger, and a touch of curiosity. All of it churning and twisting into a combination that made Souji's eyebrow raise a fraction of a centimetre.

"Not bad actually. Kind of refreshing. I should really do it more often," Souji called back.

"Yeah, you and your thugs can bring it on any time. You won't get the drop on us again."

Thugs? Get the drop? Souji glanced at the others, some of whom were looking away from their teammate while some passersby in the hallway looked at the exchange speculatively. Then it clicked – bad enough they were wearing their defeat where everyone could see it, but no way they'd admit to losing to one person. "Ahh. I see. Because of course I'd need a gang behind me to do anything substantial, right?"

"Of course. Not like the big guy here." The loudmouth pointed behind him to the star of the little group.

The bell rang before anyone could reply, and Souji moved past them toward his classroom as calmly as if he were walking through the park, ignoring the short student's taunts until he reached the door and turned back to them. "Yuhara."

Their group stopped and turned to look at him. "What?"

"There's no shame in defeat, especially at the hands of someone better than you," Souji told him coldly, a slow smile crossing his lips. "But you really should look at it as a learning experience. Let me know when you're up for a rematch; you can bring more friends along, for all the good they'll do you."

"The hell're you saying, pretty boy?" their spokesman barked.

"Shut up," Yuhara growled darkly. "This isn't over, Seta." Then he turned and left the hall, his groupies in tow.

Souji chuckled at the stares they got and turned to the class to take his seat. Perhaps there were silver linings to dark clouds. No matter what the weather was like.

There was a strange mindset that came with mental exhaustion. After the second night without rest, he went beyond fatigue into a state of dead, disconnected awareness. His eyes looked like they had been grilled in grease, but he couldn't feel them burn. His limbs still responded well enough, but he felt no smooth flow from one movement to the next. He was conscious of his surroundings and could respond easily enough to the people and situations around him, but there was no feeling, no spark to anything he did. It wasn't that Souji was unfamiliar with the feeling; he'd been a nervous wreck when Nanako had been abducted, a mix of wild, twitchy energy and weariness that sank into his marrow like cement. No, instead he was unused to feeling it when someone's life wasn't on the line. Back in Inaba there was a clear and definable limit to how long he had to endure it. He could tough it out because he had a goal, a finish line to cross so he could get back to sleep. Now the exhaustion was as unrelenting as the weather.

It was three days after the fight in the park, and the only time the rain had let up was when it had just stayed cloudy once, a murky, oily kind of overcast that pressure cooked Kofu and made the air unseasonably warm and humid enough to drink. He'd been getting enough hours of sleep, and had even cut into his usual time reserved for homework and chatting with Yukiko to get more rest. But the sleep wasn't doing him any good. If he wasn't running and tripping from one nightmare into the next, he was floating in a grey, static haze that only left him feeling slightly less exhausted than the night before. It was building on him, teetering him back and forth from almost falling asleep and crystal clarity that felt completely detached from his own body.

And it was the latter of the two feelings that saw him in homeroom during lunch, leaning against the wall and pointedly not looking out the window while Megumi and Yoshiro chatted quietly nearby. It was that exhausted clarity that raised his eyes to the door to see Ashida, the girl a year behind him who'd suffered his blunt rejection just weeks before, at the door with laden arms before waving her over. She nodded, shy but excited if the quiver of irrepressible energy running through her was any indication, and skipped through the groups of students to sit in the desk behind him. Megumi and Yoshiro cut their conversation short to look over curiously. There were patches of inquisitive silence around the class, and Souji didn't even hear the murmurs begin around them; he was dead on his feet, and Ashida's enthusiasm was making him tired just by proximity.

"Thanks again, Senpai," she gushed, narrow features and large eyes happy behind her bangs. Souji nodded before cracking his neck with a sharp wrench and a grunt.

Ashida began unfolding the package she'd been carrying, setting several velvet sacks down on the desk surface and pulling out a handbook so new that the pages and plastic of the cover still smelled sharp. Yoshiro looked over with a cocked eyebrow. "What's this?"

"Ashida asked me for help on a pet project," Souji explained. "It's on a subject I know a few things about."

Megumi nodded to Ashida, who smiled and nodded back respectfully before pulling the objects out of the velvet bags. Yoshiro caught a look at the book's cover, and pulled back with several surprised blinks before looking at the pale transfer student. "You're serious?"

Ashida placed the small bags in a neat pile off to the side and showed the others what they'd contained: tarot cards.

"It was her idea," Souji replied.

"Senpai's lucky," Ashida gushed before checking her book for the table of contents. "So he's the best person to try these on."

"So you say," Souji answered around a yawn. "I'm still not sure where that idea came from, though."

"Your coin," she said immediately, pointing at the circle of metal, blade scar facing up, that was sitting on Souji's desk instead of being spun through his fingers. "Everyone knows that a coin that saves its holder's life is good luck."

Souji cocked an eyebrow. "Where'd you get that idea?"

Ashida looked up at him immediately, a sharp shine to her stare. "There was a commander during the Meiji Revolution who was shot with a gun, and survived because there was a coin in the way. He was enormously lucky at dice rolls and mahjong every day after that, because he held on to that coin."

Souji blinked sceptically, not asking how someone could flip a coin that had been shot with a rifle round or bringing up that the commander might've been a sore loser and his men threw the games for favour. His exhaustion kept his usual stoic mask from forming, however, because Ashida read his face in a second and pulled herself up in the chair and continued. "It's true! And you can even tell someone's personality by knowing what their blood type is. What they're like on a good day or a bad one, and there's all sorts of literature about it. C'mon Senpai, what's your blood type?"

"I think this is getting away from the reason you're here, Ashida-chan," Megumi responded calmly, smirking at the grateful look Souji sent her.

"Ahh, you're right Megumi-san. What do you think Senpai, should we try the different spreads first?"

Souji pointed toward the cards. "Let's just start with the basics. There's a lot to know about the interpretations, right?"

"Where did you learn about tarot cards?" Yoshiro asked, interest flickering in his eyes as he looked at the decks.

"Before I moved here, I met some people who spent a lot of their time going over them," Souji replied blandly, not about to mention the mismatched pair by name. "They taught me a few things."

Ashida began shuffling the decks separately, first the major arcana, then the minor, then shuffling them together under Souji's approving nod. "Shall we get started?"

Souji straightened in his chair and leaned forward, watching the deck closely. "Ready when you are."

"Okay then. I want to know what Seta-senpai is like," she said towards the cards before pushing the deck toward him expectantly. "Left hand, please."

"So we're clear, I'm expecting a nine of swords," Souji told her before drawing the card and flipping it over. No surprise; that very card stared back at him, in the upright position, like it was mocking him. Megumi and Yoshiro looked startled, and Ashida let out a gleeful squeal before diving for her book of interpretations. Souji just gave a disgusted sigh. "That figures."

"Nine of swords..." Ashida muttered, flipping through the pages.

"It indicates insomnia and too many sleepless nights," Souji supplied before placing the card on the desk.

Ashida looked surprised, then read the page she'd flipped to again. "Wow. You're dead on, Senpai. I mean, the book says a few other things too, but that's right."

"Know a thing or two, huh?" Megumi asked with an arched eyebrow, now intrigued and leaning forward. Souji just shrugged.

Ashida held the deck out to him again. "Okay, next card. I want to know more about Senpai."

"You and half the city," Souji muttered before drawing the next card and flipping it over. He chuckled when he saw the XVIII on the bottom and showed it to the others. The Moon. "Appropriate, I suppose."

Ashida started flipping through the pages again, and Yoshiro leaned forward to see the card. "So what do they mean?" he asked.

"A lot of things," Souji answered, turning the card through his fingers, careful not to bend it too much. "Tarot cards represent a journey through life, the struggles people face, and indicators of what they might be going through at the time. The interpretations are general though, so they have a lot of room for acceptable error."

Megumi caught the tone in his voice, flatter than before, and quirked her head to the side. "You don't believe in them?"

Souji yawned, feeling his jaw creak. "I don't believe in fate or destiny. People can act in different ways in any situation, but I don't think that cards are going to determine what they'll do one way or the other."

Megumi cut Ashida off, who was clearly about to refute the fact despite how tired Souji was. "I guess that makes sense. I don't know if I agree with you, but I can see why you think that way."

"Here it is," Ashida said finally, holding the book out for the others to see. "Moon, major arcana. Um, inspiration and intuition, mystery, genius and... um, madness." She looked around hesitantly, unsure how the others would respond.

Souji kept going without batting an eye. "It's the card of magic, the esoteric, and the psychological, for better or worse. It indicates the ephemeral, and says that something is not what it seems."

The ladies looked a touch flabbergasted at his calm response, particularly that he didn't look offended at the comment on madness. Yoshiro shook his head and looked at the card's picture when Souji showed it to him. "I don't get it. Do you know those interpretations by heart? Or is there something on here that says all that?"

Souji pointed at the design. "It's all there, but it's not obvious. The two dogs represent the familiar and the unknown, that something safe in the day becomes something dangerous by night."

"You mean like a werewolf?" Yoshiro asked. "You mentioned magic before."

Souji frowned pensively, perhaps the first spark of inspired thought in days, but shook his head. "It's not talking about real magic, but rather the perception of the supernatural or unusual. You can't see the dog well in the moonlight, so you might think it's a wolf, and your imagination makes it more threatening than it really is. The dog is still a dog, and a forest, for instance, is still a forest, but at night things feel different, foreign, and so what is safe becomes mysterious, maybe dangerous."

"Like kids," Megumi mentioned. "They believe that there're monsters in the closet, no matter how often they look in that closet in the daytime and see that it's empty."

"That's a very good example," Souji replied with a half-smile. Then he checked the clock before turning to Ashida. "But lunch is winding down, so let's get this moving again."

"Uh, right!" Ashida chirped, holding out the deck.

Temperance. "Well, that's no surprise," Yoshiro commented when he heard the interpretation. Alchemy, balance. All things in moderation.

Five of chalices. "Interesting," was all Souji said after Ashida read from the book. Deep emotions, visions, and illusions.

Four of swords. "Of course," Megumi chuckled. Discussion and debates, a calculating mind, problem solving. Sharp ideas that rested on a sharp tongue.

The lunch bell was a few minutes from going off when the last card was drawn, and their little pocket of the room went silent. XIII. Death.

"Sooo... does that mean you're gonna die?" Yoshiro asked.

"The cards are more metaphorical than literal," Souji replied, still holding the card in his fingers. "Physical death is only one interpretation for the card."

"I don't know," Megumi murmured. "Some of those cards seemed to peg you pretty close, Souji-san."

Souji took the deck from Ashida and began reshuffling the cards, much faster and more confidently than she had, and snapped cards down in a circular spread, crisscrossing them in some positions, leaving them solitary in others. The centre card though, the only one he flipped, was the same. Death in the upright position. "Odd," he muttered. "The card suggests the death of something, but not necessarily in someone dying. More like an end or completion, like getting out of a bad relationship, losing a good job, whatever, but that's the best translation of the card."

"But that still means your life could end," Ashida pointed out, pale from the interpretation. The lunch bell went, and she collected her cards and book, bowed to the three in thanks for the trial run, and left the room without another word, Megumi close behind.

"Do you always have that kind of luck with tarot cards?" Yoshiro asked as classes were about to resume.

Souji shrugged. "I'm not sure. Like I said, I don't take them very seriously." Any further conversation was cut off by the teacher's arrival. Souji could tell Yoshiro was bothered, or at least unsettled, by the cards, but he didn't let himself think about it. He was no stranger to them, certainly, and Inaba had taught him better than to tempt fate, but he hadn't been lying when he said he didn't think they determined his actions. He'd made his choices, and he'd live with them. There was nothing else in the equation.

Classes went by quickly after their lunchtime gathering. Souji coasted along on autopilot, answering questions moments before forgetting what the class was about. Before he knew it, he was out of the crowded classroom and walking through the polished halls. He greeted Yoshiro and Megumi, who tagged along beside him, already chatting between themselves. Souji stifled a yawn and fished his shoes from his locker. He needed sleep. And to talk to Yukiko. She always helped make things better. Yeah, that's what he'd-

"Hey."

Souji looked over to Yoshiro, who had an unusually sober look on his face. At his side, Megumi looked both pensive and distant. She did that a lot, Souji realized for what felt like the first time. He admired her guise, her assumed aloofness, and he had to wonder if that was how he seemed to those around him. "What's up?" Souji asked finally.

"You free after school?"

Souji shrugged. "I suppose. What's up?"

"I'm at a loose end. No practice today, so I figured we could hang out." Yoshiro nodded to the nearby windows, showing the grey skies and steady rain.

Souji paused in grabbing his book bag, looking at the basketball captain with as much scrutiny as he could muster. Admittedly, that wasn't very much. Megumi had a face like a slate statue, but Yoshiro was twitching, shifting his weight from one side to the other. "That's fine by me," Souji replied with an inquisitive look. "But what's the occasion?"

"It's stupid," Yoshiro admitted. "But I remember what Ashida said earlier."

"Oh come on," Souji sighed in exasperation. "Tarot cards and fortune telling are wild guesses and blind luck. Nothing more."

"I know, but I just have a bad feeling, okay?"

Souji shook his head. He was too tired to argue the point. "Do as you like. I won't stop you."

"Thanks," Yoshiro replied, looking a little less tense. "C'mon, let's get some ramen. Best choice on a wet day."

"Lead the way," was all Souji said.

Only they didn't make it to the road, or even out from under the roof of the front doors, when Rise made her appearance. She was dressed simply, in her capris and pull-over, sans makeup and leaning against the pillar under her umbrella. "Hey Senpai," she murmured. Souji couldn't tell if it was the rain or the night at the park, but she was subdued, more reserved than usual. Souji moved next to her, ignoring his friends for the moment.

"Are you alright?" he asked. So far as he could tell, she looked fine. But the wan little smile he got in response kept him on his toes.

Instead of an empty platitude, she told him "I will be," and left it at that. Then she pulled up a much brighter smile and nodded to Yoshiro and Megumi. "I was in the area, thought you might want some company."

"Well we were about to hit up a ramen shop," Yoshiro replied, in a surprising display of control considering his first reaction to Rise's appearance at the fairgrounds.

Rise brightened up at that, even more than she already had, and some of the tension left her. "Really? I've been craving ramen the last few days. C'mon Senpai, let's go!"

And, just like that, the grim mood broke and the foursome made their way off campus and down the road toward a ramen shop Yoshiro and Megumi assured them was to die for. The clouds darkened and the rain came down harder, so they kept together and walked faster. The girls chatted immediately, no barriers or awkwardness between them, and Souji talked idly with Yoshiro about school. "I saw Yuhara-kun," Yoshiro told him. "Seems like someone did a number on him."

"I saw him in the hall this morning," was all Souji said, his tone even and calm.

"And you look like you had a scrap recently too."

"So I hear. Do I look that bad?"

Yoshiro stopped and looked over his friend's face closely, inch by inch. "No, not really. Not compared to some of those guys, anyway. Still, what happened?"

"What makes you think it was me?"

Yoshiro snorted and shook his head. "C'mon Souji-san. He's been getting under your skin since you moved here, and hasn't shut up about you and Risette since the field trip. Suddenly a bunch of the guys who openly dislike you clam up about her and show up black and blue all over, and you haven't said a word about it. Give me some credit."

Souji's calm mask broke and he chuckled. He hadn't felt any pain until Yoshiro mentioned it, but even so, it had largely dulled until he could ignore it. "Fair enough. They stopped Rise and me the other night while I was walking her home. Things went downhill from there." He made sure to say the words quietly enough that the ladies, a few steps ahead of them, couldn't hear.

"They actually went after her?" Yoshiro asked sharply, eyes snapping and angry.

"They were drunk and stupid. Nothing happened outside the fight."

"That's no excuse. I should talk to the authorities about it."

"Don't," Souji replied calmly but firmly. "What's done is done. Yuhara and his crew'll just deny it, making it your word against theirs. Then you're going to have a fractured team for your games. And Rise and her manager have already worked to keep the matter under wraps. Pulling her into the spotlight is the last thing they want. Regardless of what they might have tried, they didn't succeed."

"This time. What if they try again? Or bring more people with them?"

"Then I'll deal with them as it happens."

Yoshiro stopped and looked at Souji closely, for a few long moments, before shaking his head with an exasperated snort. "You really would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

"All that for a friend. You really are one of a kind, you know that?"

Souji shrugged, but failed to stop the heat from climbing his neck. Keeping to the background in Kofu had become such a habit that being given any credit was flattering and embarrassing. "It's what I do for my friends."

"Glad to hear it."

The group continued along the street, now two blocks from the ramen shop. They'd just crossed the intersection when their conversations were cut off by the tortured squealing of tires and brakes, the heavy impact of metal crunching and glass breaking.

They all looked up, shocked to see a vehicle collision happen right behind them. Slick roads or distracted drivers, perhaps. Rise and Megumi jerked back, hands to their chests in surprise, and Yoshiro stepped between the noise and them without pause.

Souji stared at the cars, the sound reverberating in his mind, echoing from nights before and every nightmare since. No, he told himself. No, this wasn't a nightmare. This was real, and all he had to do was walk away. He heard another vehicle approaching and turned away from the sound.

Then he saw her. Just entering the intersection's crosswalk, pink umbrella, dressed in white and pink under a yellow slicker. Her back was turned to him, but he heard her voice. "Big Bro" spun around his head in an instant, driving all his self-assurances mercilessly into the ground.

And everything stopped. He saw Nanako, felt his heartbeat slow, and heard the approaching vehicle. The rain, the static, the delivery truck was getting closer. Revving up. Not stopping, going right for her.

He bolted. He didn't know where his umbrella wound up, where his backpack landed. He didn't feel the cool metal or rain water as he slid across the edge of a car's trunk, or the rapid hammering of his feet on the pavement as he ran into traffic. All he saw has her. All he heard was the approaching truck. And all he needed was to get there. Faster, faster. He had to make it this time. She turned to look at him, puzzled at his approach. Then fear when she saw the vehicle. She froze in place, opened her mouth, but was too terrified to scream.

He dropped his weight, caught her in his right arm, and tumbled to the pavement. He pulled her close as he hit the ground, rolling out of the way. Once, jarring his bruised ribs. Twice, stinging his back. And up to his knees, putting himself between her and the truck just as the blaring horn ran over them both-

And the truck stopped with a crash. Caught between a nearby car and a concrete bench. The engine died in a protesting gurgle, blowing an engine belt and steaming spitefully in the rain. The motor tried to run, but the wheels wouldn't move. It was done.

"Uh... um, sir?"

Souji released the death grip he had on her, pulling back and looking down. "Are you okay?"

The world imploded. Jagged edges of reality crashed around him. It wasn't Nanako, and that realization set him back on his heels. Her umbrella, on its side and miraculously untouched by the collision, was light blue with white sparrows and koi across the surface. The same pattern as her rain slicker. No pink. When she looked up at him, he saw green eyes and black hair, not brown. And a green and white striped shirt and skirt underneath the rain coat.

He turned and staggered back, hand to his head as he tried to think over the noise in his head. He saw the truck. Only it wasn't a truck, but an SUV. And the driver was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, not a green uniform, and reeked of booze when he staggered past, not even noticing the mayhem around him.

She wasn't there. She'd never been there. Souji shook his head and tried to keep the panic down. He was losing it. Going crazy.

"Akane!"

"Mommy!"

Souji grabbed what remnants of his self-control he could find in the maelstrom of adrenaline and turned as much as he dared. A tall, slender woman, only a few years older than he was himself, clutched the girl to her, on the edge of tears as she rocked her back and forth. Whatever the girl was saying was muffled by her mother's body, but Souji could guess at the words. And then a man in a suit and overcoat with salt and pepper hair pushed through the crowd and crouched to pull them both into a tight embrace. A family. And a happy one, by the look of it. He shook his head, turned on the fragile glass and tattered ribbons that was his psyche at the moment, and began to move away from them. The accidents had stopped traffic and it was safe enough to cross the road. He marveled at how far he'd run in such a short time. Or had it been short? Either way, it surprised him that he hadn't been hit.

"Wait! You, sir!"

Souji wouldn't have stopped if the voice hadn't sounded like it was approaching him. Everything felt brittle at the moment. But he pulled himself together and turned shakily, meeting the dark eyes of the girl's father. "Yes?"

The man stepped up to Souji, uncomfortably close, and firmly grabbed his hand in a bone-crushing grip. "Thank you. I don't know you, but thank you for what you just did."

Souji's reply was automatic, but sounded like it belonged to someone else. "It was nothing."

The man nearly looked offended. "Of course it was! You saved my daughter! You. No one else; I didn't even see that idiot. And you threw yourself into traffic for her. Do you know me or my wife?"

"I... no."

"Then I owe you all the more. Name your price, and I will give it."

The world was jerking and twisting around him, and it was all Souji could do to keep his balance. "No, I'm... sorry for interfering- no, I mean I'm sorry, I thought..."

Snap out of it! Souji berated himself. Cry in the corner later. At least get out of the street!

The man was picking up the odd vibes if his speculative and concerned expression was any indication. "Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?"

Couldn't even bluff a stranger. What a day. Souji took a few fortifying breaths, and the world stopped moving. A few more, and he gave a calm smile, as calm as he could manage, to the man. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm not making much sense. What I mean is that I'm glad I could help."

"There's still the matter of price."

Souji shook his head. "I didn't do it for a reward, so you don't owe me anything."

"Unacceptable. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if this debt were left unpaid."

Souji didn't know what to say in the face of the man's determination, but cocked his ear when he heard approaching sirens. "We can talk about it later," he replied. "Right now the emergency crews are going to be busy."

The man looked at Souji sharply, and finally nodded. "I will repay you for this – my family is everything to me, and no price is too high for their safety."

Souji nodded and began to move through the halted traffic, able to escape when a member of the crowd, claiming she had first aid experience, took the girl aside and called to the father. Two accidents on top of each other, same time and place. What were the odds. Though Ashida had said he was lucky.

Souji made his way through the wrecked cars and wiped the sweat and rain from his brow, feeling his balance shift and legs sway underneath him. He adjusted his balance and kept going; probably recovering from the sudden sprint. And his head swam a bit. From the adrenaline, no doubt. He'd be fine. But he didn't notice his hands starting to shake and tingle.

Yoshiro and Rise waved him over, offering him his discarded umbrella and tripping over each other to say how crazy he was and how amazing he had been to risk running into traffic to save the girl. But then they both stopped when they saw his hands, and Souji looked down at them, puzzled. Or he should be puzzled, but everything felt... far away.

"Senpai?" Rise asked. Yoshiro was looking over him with a sharp stare and what looked like fear edging his eyes. He was saying something, but-

The pain hit.

It was sudden, caught Souji by surprise, a sharp blade sinking into his chest. Then twisting. Slowly. Ever so slowly. And with it came the fear.

His breath froze. The sirens went quiet, then deafeningly loud. The world turned dark at the edges, his vision tunnelled, and all he could see was Rise and Yoshiro. They were shouting at him, and all he heard was his racing heart and hammering lungs. His entire body flushed in a rush, hot even through the cold. He couldn't feel the rain. He couldn't breathe, then breathed far too fast. He felt his knees hit the ground, but not his non-stop trembling.

His racing heart only made the pain worse. Stabbing, tightening, twisting, and spreading. Beating so fast it was like hummingbirds in his ears. Only pain. Only the fear. And his own tumbling thoughts.

What had he done?

Where was he?

What's happening!?

GET AWAY!