Author's Notes: Hello again, to all my lovely readers! Yep, I'm back, and this is the chapter that makes good on some of the stuff that was set up before. What stuff in particular, you might ask? Well, keep reading a take a gander! And while you're reading, think about taking a look at my Persona 4 fic starring Souji and Yukiko, Continuance, because this is the last time I'm advertising for either of my fics in the opening notes of the other. So no more talking about it from here on in. Credit for the new cover art goes to asta-m-andreasen at turn lol . com. Nothing wrong with the last cover, but this one better suits what I have in mind for the fic, considering… well, you'll see.

I had a long, sappy speech prepared about how the reviews I got made me almost cry, and how it was really inspiring that everyone seemed to especially like different aspects of the chapter, whether it was Strega, Pharos, Minato's Evoker, whatever, and that having the varied feedback really reinforced having all the different points present, because otherwise the story as a whole would be weaker. But I think a cyber fist bump to everyone will save your time and my dignity. So, go on. Fist bump your screen. Feel that? From me to all of you.

Dedications next, since I can't have you guys think that I don't listen to your reviews or don't care about what you like or don't like. After all, without such wonderful support, I wouldn't have the heart to keep going. Even with Enact and his whip behind me, and it was his prompting that got me to start CoE in the first place.

On that note, here are my replies to everyone who reviewed:

Bboy46 – I've read a lot of close novelization fics of the Persona games, not just 3, in the past, and while I admire people who have that kind of time and energy, I'd rather explore something that we haven't seen yet. Like you say, it gives it more perspective and, in my opinion, makes the story feel a lot more immersive and whole. As for Minato's Personas, I won't give details on it, since it's part of the story and mystique, but we will be experiencing something different from the others where his Personas are involved, and not just because he has more than one of them. Anyway, glad you're enjoying the story.

A lone Black Angel – I see, I see. No, no worries. I like a good challenge, and I'm glad you take your time to see where things go first. Of course, that means that I'll work hard to make sure the fic is awesome, and stays that way. Glad to have you along for the ride.

VectorThirteen – It's interesting that you bring up Yakushima, because that's where chapter 5 is taking place. Sand, Aigis, the girls in their bathing suits, lots of great times ahead. And I thought that Strega deserved to be more active in this piece, because for all the 'menace' they were supposed to have in the game, they really fell flat in a lot of places. Enact and I have a number of ways to make them a lot more involved, shall we say, in the story, so that's something to look forward to. Glad you're liking the fics though – I certainly don't plan on dropping them.

Bru022345 – I do try my best for my awesome fans. I imagine you've all heard 'I'll finish this if it kills me!' from other authors, and the outcome has been abandoned stories and no new entries in the obituaries, but there's a lot more in store for, well, everyone in this little project, so I hope you like the ride.

MDZcoolguy – Well, thank you for the praise. When someone says my work feels smooth and polished enough to be included in the actual game, I can't help but be flattered. As for the story flow, well, I won't give too much away, suffice to say that I'll be taking a lot of what was given in the game and running with it, making our silent protagonist a lot less silent in some places. As to when and where, you'll see when we get there.

SOME Reader – Once again, your writing brings a tear to the eye. Sometimes I think you should be the one writing this fic – you have such a way with words. Anyway, I'm very happy you enjoyed ch.3 since this chapter was the one I've been looking the most forward to writing. Why? A good question. And I think the answers are apparent when you read it. I'm glad you like the pacing and the descriptions. I figure that since everyone knows who the cast is, there's no need to set out describing them in painful detail. As to Minato's 'condition' and similarity to Shinjiro, it's good that you've picked up on that and realize the possible implications that such a similarity might entail. Of course, I can't tell you where that thread's going yet, but it will be part of Minato's journey and his character. Anyway, thanks for the wonderful review, and I hope that I continue to keep you interested.

Delacroix1991 – That's a good question: why were you talking about Continuance on the Change of Engagement review page? I'm going to inflate my ego and say that it's because both fics are so awesome that you were caught up thinking about one and posted praise for it, then realized it was on the wrong page. But that's just me. My hubris aside, I'm glad you're liking Minato. Making a silent protagonist say things and building him into a character that everyone can acknowledge has been quite a lot of fun. Not unlike Souji, really, but Change of Engagement is primarily taking place within the events of the game, so imagining his reactions to the different events is good mental exercise. Anyway, glad you're liking my works, and I hope that they both continue to impress you from here on in.

Xoraan – Well, I'm glad it hit so many of the right points with you, and that seems to be putting it lightly. Minato's inscription was the second one I thought of because, despite how short the quote is, it suits him quite well. Whose might be the first? Well, I'll leave that to your imagination. As for the Personas, it seemed appropriate, given that Souji's past his days of monster-killing, that I have some fun with Minato since having that kind of power can't be all good all the time, right? Lots more on that to follow. And as for his classmates, well, on that one you're going to have to read and see, my friend. Still, thank you for the in-depth and wonderful review. It really made my week, knowing I had done that well with the chapter.

D'Michi – Well, your wait is over! Hope you like where this one goes. And I think you're right on Hidetoshi being in the same year as Minato, but Minato refers to him as 'senpai' because Hidetoshi is of a higher rank in the Student Council, and he's giving Minato advice and assistance.

Emeraldfireblade – Haha, official now, is it? I hope that comes with a certificate that I can hang on my wall somewhere, 'Writer of #*$%ing Awesome Stuff.' Glad you liked Pharos, since his section was one of the more interesting parts to write. I mean, coming up with things to weird out people who are used to completely weird stuff already is always a fun challenge. And I'm glad you're looking forward to seeing Aigis, since she's up for the next chapter. So, cheers, and I'll work hard to make sure that the fic remains #*$%ing awesome in every way that I can.

DominicanAir21 – Ahh, you're too kind. Hope I can live up to such praise. Many thanks, and hope you enjoy the chapter.

Twinkle Ace – Good to hear, because I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this one.

End – Much obliged. Those characterizations and setting and pacing are pretty much what I focus on to get right, otherwise the chapters tend to feel wrong or choppy. So it's good to know that I'm getting those right. As for Minato's personality, I can see where you are coming from in terms of snarkiness. We see more of him in a few new situations this chapter, and Enact and I think he's a bit less abrasive this time around. Feel free to let us know. Thanks for the review, welcome to the story, and thank you for the encouragement – I certainly will keep writing.

Tracer 28 – Well, the wait is over! Read and enjoy to the fullest. And I agree, Minato will have to think of something to deal with his classmates properly. But he's pretty crafty, so he'll think of something. Maybe it'll happen soon, or maybe later. Time will tell, right?

burgerkong – Always great to hear from my fans, no matter which story they like. And if they like both, well, then they're even more amazing. Glad you're liking things so far. Minato interacting with Akihiko felt like a sound choice because, well, because we never really see how they could react to each other. Lots of untapped potential there, so it felt appropriate to give it a try. As for Minato's classmates, that felt like it fit since not everyone's going to take a 'live and let live' approach when the illusions surrounding the people they look up to are threatened by a stranger from nowhere. As to what he does about it, well, that might be answered sooner than you expect. Wonderful hearing from you, and I hope you like the chapter.

code R.R – That's a flattering thought, really. That said, the strength of an idea comes from how new or different it is from what's already out there, so after a while it might be hard to know whose idea it was in the first place. Would be nice to see other original ideas pop up for the fandom, however.

Meia42 – Strega not sucking is a definite goal for this piece, and Enact and I have a few ideas as to how we're going to make that goal a reality. I won't spoil anything, but I do hope you like them when the time comes. And thank you for the praise. I found it odd that someone who clearly breaks a lot of the rules that the Kirijo have learned or established about Personas wouldn't be thought of as an oddity. Maybe they weren't going for deeper characterization for a silent protagonist, but I always find intelligent interactions and discourse to be a lot more interesting than 'Skip the talking! When can I kill something again!?'

Each and every one of you guys are awesome, as are all my beautiful readers, whether they review or fave/alert or just read whenever they can. And, just to show how much I love all of you, on with the show!

Chapter 4 – Derobement

If there was anything that her parents had taught her, it was that aspirations only led to heartbreak and disappointment. It was fine to have goals and do well, they'd said, but trying to be more than she was could only end in disappointment. The higher one climbed, the further they fell, and no one would be there to catch her, no matter their open arms and warm smiles at first. She hadn't been in that position personally, since she'd never been an A student or the captain of the swim team, but her parents had taught her the lesson so well that it became easier to hide behind her words, or lack thereof, than to speak up and prove them wrong. So that was what she did, no matter how much a part of her protested every time she shrank from the attention of her peers. Never mind that she felt like she could help people sometimes, or that her personal escape quickly became a passion she could take pride in. It was easier to be like the electricity that powered her gadgets and take the path of least resistance.

After believing that for so long, it was strange how the events outside her control, driven, it seemed, by fortunate chance, could change so much about her in so little time. Strange was indeed a good word for this new life in her heart, like sunglasses she never knew she was wearing were taken off and was seeing the world and its wonderful colours for the first time, without having to shy away or apologize for doing so. It was exhilarating, eye-opening and deeply invigorating. Since that night, she felt more like herself and less like she had to hide from ridicule or scorn. No matter her habits, the others had quickly said, she was fine the way she was. She felt like a new person when she was around them.

Yamagishi Fuuka chuckled to herself as she ran her fingertips across the pile of books she'd assembled, safe from the sun under the canopy outside her new favorite bookstore, Bookworms. Right. She'd changed so much that, on such a clear, beautiful day, with new friends and great dorm mates who'd welcomed her without thinking twice about it even after they'd saved her life, she decided to go for a walk, stretch her legs, and head to a bookstore for some new reading material. Sure, she felt stronger than she had before that night, but she was still her, and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

But that didn't mean she couldn't indulge in something she enjoyed, she told herself while adding another book to the pile in front of her. She enjoyed learning and the new ideas she got from books, regardless of whether those ideas were applicable in real life. As she straightened the pile out, she began to think of her dorm mates and how into books they were. Mitsuru-senpai seemed like the sort who read a lot, given how advanced her studies were. And Ikutsuki-san certainly fit the image of a well-educated teacher, though she couldn't speak to the man's sense of humour. Junpei-kun didn't seem like he read much, preferring video games instead, and it felt like Yukari-san would be busy with her archery club activities or socializing to read much outside of studying for exams. And Akihiko-senpai was known to be an overachiever in academics and in the boxing ring – even she'd heard about that. So that left–

"Hm. Interesting choices."

She gasped and backpedalled and turned and raised her hand to her chest all at once. In her rush to identify the speaker, so close she clipped an arm as she moved, she lost her balance and slipped backwards.

She was certain she would crash into the table next to her and cause a horrible mess. Or wind up on the ground with a bruise to her pride and her backside. But a slim hand wrapped around her upraised arm, stopping her from slipping back. Her weight twisted from the change in her momentum and she reached blindly to the side, catching the edge of the table. It was enough to stop her. Not enough to completely spare her – there was no doubt in her mind that she looked ridiculous – but she was still standing, however awkwardly, and the books she'd been looking at were untouched.

"Sorry about that." She finally looked up to see who had startled her in the first place. A familiar eye stared at her, the other half of his gaze hidden behind a curtain of indigo hair. Minato-kun. Despite how startled she'd been, and how close she might've been to crashing into him, he looked as steady and calm as ever, something she'd learned was as much a staple of his character as Akihiko-senpai's strict exercise regimens were part of his. Minato-kun smiled apologetically as he helped steady her. "I thought you heard me before."

Fuuka shook her head as she righted herself, and once she was completely on her feet again, he pulled his hand back. Her arm should have been sore, considering how much of her weight he'd held up by it in that moment, but she barely felt a thing. It seemed that he preferred a deft touch instead of raw strength, and that made sense; she'd seen him fight, after all. She rubbed at it anyway and tried to steady her racing heart. "No, no. It's not your fault. I was spacing out."

She stayed to one side of him, watching the revealed side of his face. It was easier to talk to him when she could see his eye and expressions instead of that veil of hair that divided his face between 'incrementally expressive' and 'completely blank.' "Still, I apologize for that," he continued. "I've been told that I walk too quietly around people. It's a habit I have."

"From your kendo training and fencing practice?" Fuuka suggested. She'd heard the story from Junpei-kun during the meeting that made her a part of SEES, and she knew a few students who practiced swordsmanship. They moved quietly too, no matter how large they were – it had something to do with them always being balanced on their feet. That Minato-kun was the same came as no surprise to her, and, even without the training, he would probably still walk softly. He didn't seem the sort to make noise unnecessarily.

"I imagine so," he confirmed, relaxing a little and pocketing his hands as the conversation grew comfortable. "It's hard to imagine not doing it, actually." He turned a little and nodded toward her pile of books. "Anyway, I'm glad you weren't hurt. Did you need any help with those? What's your pet genre?"

It took her a moment to register his questions, so far from her expectations as they were. Yukari-san had said that Minato-kun was hard to get to know because he so rarely revealed anything about himself, and she'd quickly agreed with that assessment in the short time she'd known the students of the Iwatodai Dormitory. Compared to Junpei-kun, Minato-kun was a concrete wall. But here he was, asking simple questions and talking more in a few minutes than in the whole time she'd seen him around school or the dorm. And about something simple, domestic, like carrying her books. It was throwing her off balance, but the change was welcome. She enjoyed a good mystery, and passing up a chance to learn about the resident ghost wasn't an option. "I like science fiction," she told him finally, choosing her words carefully. "The technology they use, the descriptions, the chance to leave Earth and travel the stars, it all sounds so wonderful."

He nodded in understanding, then his eye narrowed a little. "It certainly does. Stretching the boundaries and thinking outside the box. It's good brain exercise. That said, I hope your interests don't become escapism. It's none of my business, but I know that's an approach that doesn't work."

She was silent for a moment, surprised and impressed and a little off-centre from his insight. Then she gave a small sigh, wilting a bit. It only made sense that he'd make such an observation – no one at the dorm had what she could call a happy background. "I used to. I'm trying not to anymore."

The piercing look to his eyes faded and he nodded, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. "That's good. And it's nothing to be ashamed of if you're learning from the experience. But if you do have bad days, let one of us know. I'm sure Yukari or Mitsuru-senpai would be able to help you out. You're part of the team, and if you have any concerns, we'll work through them. That's what we're here for."

She paused before replying again, unsure what to make of the normally-reticent Minato-kun offering such straightforward encouragement. He'd said 'we,' not 'the others,' and the difference was hard to ignore as her mental diagram of him blurred and shifted, changing again. When they'd met in Tartarus, he was all business. Calm, steady, so focused that he came across as cold. She knew how hard he was to figure out from the other students – even she'd heard the rumours about him. But seeing him so cordial was an unexpected surprise. Then her eyes widened a little. Was that it? Was he changing, or at least showing her a different side of himself for her sake? She frowned as she thought it over and worked out a reply."I see. Thank you for the advice."

Something in her tone must have clued him into her unease, because he looked at her and stared intently, trying to discern the source of her nervousness. "Did I say something? Is there a problem?"

Fuuka refrained from backing up, because while she felt that he wouldn't do something to make her uncomfortable, she also knew that he'd see through her like a crystal glass given enough time. So she went on the offensive this time. "Are you always this open with others? I got the impression that you didn't talk very much, to be honest. So I have to wonder if you're here to keep morale up or to check in on me."

He blinked at her, his face expressionless past his too-long bangs, before he leaned back half a step and closed his eyes with a knowing 'hm.' "No, nothing like that. I mean, I am curious as to how well you're fitting in given how weird all this must be. But I don't want to give the impression that I'm spying on you. And I suppose I'm not this chatty normally, but it's easy to talk to you – you remind me of my sister."

She blinked at him. That was unexpected. "I do? How? I didn't know you had a sister."

He gave a small shrug, face and voice as steady as thought they were discussing incremental stock changes. Or all the ways to properly paint a wall. "I don't anymore. She died with my parents in an auto wreck ten years ago. But you and her have a few things in common, now that I think about it. I guess that's why it feels natural to talk to you."

The casual, matter-of-fact way he said it made her shiver a little. Even someone who'd come to terms with such a tragedy wouldn't sound so calm about it, and the contrast between his level tone and the almost fond words he was using when speaking of his sibling knocked her insides around.

This time he seemed blind to her discomfort, and continued speaking unabated. "Anyway, you're part of the team now, and we all look out for each other. For the most part. If you have any problems at school again, let me know. Or Yukari or our senpai. One of us will help you out."

She pushed out a smile, genuinely touched while trying to quell her unease. "That's very generous."

"It makes tactical sense. You don't have the reputation that our senpai do, and the others might not have the time to help you out with the students. I mean, Akihiko-senpai ignores most of them, and Yukari's the most popular girl in the school. I don't think they can relate to being bothered by the students like we can." That inquisitive look arose in his eye again, and he cocked his head to the side curiously. "Have you had any problems talking to our senpai at school? On account of their fans, I mean. Some of them are a bit zealous on that front."

Fuuka scratched the side of her neck, not wanting to fold to his questions so easily. "Well… I think some of them don't like that I'm in your dorm now. They seem protective of Yukari-san and Mitsuru-senpai. It makes sense, I think, given how popular they are, but it does make it hard to get past them sometimes."

He gave a shrug. "I think that's natural. My other schools always had idols and groupies, so Gekkoukan is nothing new. But if they give you any problems, just send them my way. Say I'm asking you to follow Yukari and Mitsuru-senpai around and take notes on what they do since you're a girl or something like that."

Though that was a handy excuse, Fuuka immediately saw that such a statement would put him at the heart of any conflicts that arose regarding their senpai. And much as skilled a fighter as Minato-kun was, she wasn't sure how he would deal with something that couldn't be solved with a Persona and a yard of sharp steel. "Are you sure? There seem to be quite a few of them, so don't they worry you?"

Minato-kun barely blinked before responding. "Not really. Numbers are a technicality in their case. And they hate me anyway, so they'll buy that excuse."

The casual detachment to his voice silenced her thoughts for a moment. It was comforting that he was confident in his abilities to handle such a situation, and his offer to take on her burden was actually a bit charming. But the cool tone he used went beyond being confident – it was so plainly delivered, so calmly worded despite the potential danger he'd be putting himself in, that it sent a small chill up her spine.

She collected her books, paid for them with Minato-kun at her shoulder, and headed back to the dorm with him at her side. She'd only made it a few steps before he stopped her and took the books under his arm, giving her protests a calm, blank stare. They walked slowly, talking about SEES and their Personas while the breeze picked up and kept the heat bearable. As they went, Fuuka tried to study him, to get around his façade, and was surprised by how little she could pick up from him in spite of how open and helpful he was. Even as they walked back and he talked about the letters he'd gotten from the students in his class, she couldn't read him. His half-concealed face, pale eyes and smooth, level voice were remarkably well-suited to showing her absolutely nothing. So much so that she wasn't sure even Lucia could help her.

Either he didn't notice her looking at him, or ignored it. By the time they returned to the dorm, they'd just finished talking about the different clubs in Gekkoukan and what he might be interested in joining outside of the Student Council. On that note, he'd told her, he needed to see Mitsuru-senpai about their meeting the next day, so she took her books back and bowed politely to him. "Thank you again, Minato-kun. It was nice talking about, well, everything that's happened."

He nodded, his lips twitching upwards a fraction of an inch into an almost-smile. "Likewise. If you have any other questions, let me know."

"Thank you. I will."

It wasn't until she was back in her room, with cut wires and grease jars loading down her desk and mechanical apparatuses all over the floor, that she realized that he'd never told her how she was similar to his sister. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of person Minato-kun would have as a sibling, whether they played together or spent their time indoors and read books. Or what sorts of friends they had. But the thought brought his calm offer of protection back to her mind, and that low, steady tone, unwavering even as he talked about his sister's death, sent that strange shiver up her spine again.


Of all the roles Minato had ever filled in his life, from student to orphan to specialized Shadow exterminator, he'd never really had a job he could call 'normal.' His school days were spent working on his studies, which was normal for a student, but 'student' didn't classify as a job. His lunch breaks tended to involve his classmates pestering him about things he had no reason to know, and their reasoning was that… well, he looked different from everyone else, so why wouldn't he have the answers? So, in spite of being as warm as a supermarket meat freezer, he was still bombarded with the crushes and break-ups and rivalries and crying fits and questions about Yukari and Mitsuru-senpai's dimensions, or Akihiko-senpai's running routes, and that was before the weird questions came up. And perhaps those were 'normal,' but no one was paying him for it. And spending his evenings fighting monsters that screamed like burning banshees and bled tar and sticky goop that kept their specialized dry-cleaner richer than an American fast-food chain couldn't be mentioned in the same city block as 'normal.'

As he was settling into his place as Mitsuru-senpai's new secretary, however, he felt that he could make a fairly firm conclusion: That even this job, limited to taking notes and forwarding memos and being her shadow, utterly refused to lay off the crazy.

The first hurdle to contend with was Fushimi-san, the Treasurer. Passing on the Student Council's finances and having records for the members who couldn't attend was important. That needed no explanation. But it was an inordinately challenging task to accomplish when the girl froze up and cringed whenever he came within four seats of her. Getting a look at the finance records involved leaving them on the table and moving away so he could approach without scaring the poor girl. Gods only knew what he'd done to frighten her this much. He was sure even the most cowardly Shadow in Tartarus wouldn't be this timid around him. He'd tried just calling to her from across the room, but she'd jerked and shuddered so many times that he was afraid she'd fall out of her chair and snap an arm if he kept it up. Even her passing on simple records and notes was becoming a problem, so he'd sat down and, tactician and leader that he was, given the matter deep contemplation for thirty-eight seconds before asking Saejima-san, the VP, for help.

Saejima-san was a girl as well, absent when he'd been introduced before, so it shouldn't have been a problem. And it hadn't been. Saejima-san had been understanding and helpful, if a bit dubious about how closely he was working with Mitsuru-senpai, and had agreed to be the go-between for him and Fushimi.

Which wouldn't have been a problem if he could actually read the girl's writing.

Saejima-san's notes and diction were, without a doubt, perfect. She assured him of that herself. The problem lay in that the characters looked nothing like what she told him they said. Rather than cursive, flowing Japanese, he felt like he was reading the words in Sanskrit and Russian written over top of each other, then reversed, flipped around, and scribbled onto the page with a straw. And it was particularly aggravating because Minato was no stranger to shorthand writing. He'd utilized it in his notes for so long that classmates at his past schools had placed bets and staged competitions to see who could guess what the symbols meant and where they came from during especially boring lunch hours. But what Saejima-san called 'writing' defied all Earthly attempts of translation – it was impossible to read no matter what he tried.

When he mentioned it to Yukari, she'd told him that the VP scored high marks in all her subjects, but that no one ever asked for her notes to study from. A local mystery that now made perfect sense.

That issue would have been a challenge by itself if Hidetoshi weren't on the war path. Minato's 'flower problem,' as it had become known around the class, had been consuming the head disciplinarian's attention until he found a cigarette butt in the men's washroom. And Minato had been glad for the diversion from his own affairs, but there was no way Hidetoshi's blood pressure was within even 'high' margins now – his focus bordered on obsessive. His questions became interrogations and his investigation methods rivalled that of a rookie detective with an axe to grind. No one was above suspicion (except Akihiko-senpai, who'd given him a long, cold stare when asked before pummelling his sparring partner into the mat), and it made getting help from a male perspective particularly difficult.

And Minato had been supportive of the motive behind Hidetoshi's crusade, though not his methods, but that didn't last beyond him asking if it was just a cigarette, or if it had been laced with something harder and whether there were more like it around. Him raising the possibility immediately made him a suspect, and it had taken several days to assure the diligent student that it had been a suggestion, not an admission of guilt. Having classmates who would gladly throw each other under the bus out of petty spite only made things worse. Even without Hidetoshi's dogged persistence, the matter was being treated like a spectacle. With it, the matter became a circus act, and the lead performer was the only one not in on the joke.

Once Minato was off Hidetoshi's list, he quietly distanced himself from the disciplinarian and worked on his own responsibilities. Which brought him to a new problem with having a role in a group that was situated in a specific room all the time:

Everyone knew where to find him.

The people who told him their life stories and dreams in life without prompting. The ones who begged to know what Yukari wore to bed (Mitsuru-senpai had been a topic of discussion along those lines as well, but none were stupid enough to bring it up where she might hear). The occasional jilted senior who used him for a sound board for half an hour before leaving in a huff and a 'You're no help' when he told them where the school therapist's office was. Along with all the relatively normal students with their crazy requests and ideas. They all knew where he was during club activities, and none were shy about capitalizing on it.

That included the 'protectors' of Akihiko-senpai and Mitsuru-senpai and Yukari who felt that Minato's ticket still needed to be punched.

They'd pop in to see him, inquire about what he was doing and try to make small talk. And stare at him when he did his work, regardless of how often he pointed out that it was impolite to do so. Even when asked, they were 'just in the area' and 'wanted to know how he was fitting in.'

It was formulaic, very restrained, and incredibly obvious. They were looking for weaknesses. They wanted to get the drop on him. And the thought of them finally trying something so he didn't have to live with the drama they brought in with them made his sword-arm itch. But because he wanted to make a strong showing of maturity in front of his senpai, he bore it all with a calm smile and a (mostly) restrained mouth. No matter how much his Personas raged under the surface.

"How did you get this job, Arisato?"

"Mitsuru-senpai made the offer, and I accepted it. Simple as that."

"Hm. You don't seem to do much. Any idea why she chose you?"

Minato looked up from his stack of forms and gave them a long stare before breaking into a restrained smile. "Haven't a clue. Maybe she wanted someone who would help her and do some work instead of drool all over her boots and throw their back out trying to impress her. Those boots are expensive, so it makes sense if buckets of spit would be bad for the leather."

That got him some cold looks and a distinctly unfriendly smile. "That's cute, Arisato."

Minato perked up and leaned forward with wide eyes, brushing at his hair. "You think so? I hope so – that's what I aim for when I leave my room every day. I have to make sure I'm not too cute though, because the girls might start picking on me if I give them a run for their money." Then he put on a look of suspicion and a knowing smile, raising his voice into an airy falsetto. "Wait, is that why you're in here all the time? Because I'm pretty?" They looked shocked, either pale or red at his words, and he fluttered his eyelashes as fast as he could. "I'm flattered, but the girls might get jealous if you spend all your time in here. They'll think I'm monopolizing your time, and then I'll really get it." The two in the back were shivering in rage and had to be kept back by the restraining arms of the others while the chilling smile became a tightly-clenched jaw more akin to an animal's snarl. "Am I wrong? Why else would you be here all the time?"

They backed away, had a short, terse murmured discussion among themselves, then came back to his table, more composed and bordering on openly friendly. "Well, we were wondering if you were up for joining another club. You've fit in with the Student Council pretty nicely, so how about the kendo team? You seem like you're in good shape, what with you practicing with Akihiko-senpai and all." There was no mistaking the naked venom in those eyes. "And I've heard it's a good way to blow off stress, you know? I mean, this rivalry's getting pretty silly. We can have a few rounds in the ring, get any bad feelings out, and move on. What do you say?"

Minato bit his tongue for a moment and took a few seconds to compose his answer. "Sorry, but I'm not very good at kendo. I keep crossing my feet over and tripping up."

They looked a bit puzzled, but there were also a few beatific smiles among the group. "That's strange. I thought Junpei said you were pretty good at kendo. Something about you showing up the guys at your last school."

"Nah, not really. I mean, 'good' is pretty subjective, right? And they weren't very good. I've practiced in school, fought in the odd contest. Never really got anywhere." Technically that was true. He'd dropped out of the club before he started rising through the ranks and making a name for himself. It beat checking his bedding for snakes and poisoned tacks every night.

"So you don't know how to fight with swords?" one of the students in the back asked.

He shrugged. "Well, I've seen a few Zaitochi movies. And Kurosawa Akira's Seven Samurai. I'm not sure if that counts, though."

Another student spoke up. "I see. Well, why don't you stop by the kendo ring in a few days? We're watching a few matches there, so we can work this thing out. It's just a misunderstanding, after all."

Minato glanced at them, looking mildly interested, then went back to his paperwork. "Sure, if you want. Won't take too long, right?"

"It shouldn't. Thanks, Arisato – it'll be good to put it all behind us."

"I agree. But I should get back to work. I'll see you guys later, right?"

"Looking forward to it." The spokesman stepped back and joined the others. They seemed to be in good spirits as they left if their wide grins were any indication, and Minato waited until they were around the corner before breaking into a slow smile that would have impressed the Jolly Roger.

Suckers.


Much as Minato wanted to capitalize on Mitsuru-senpai's attention and really grind the gears of his fellow students, the simple reality was that she was a busy person. Even with him looking after more and more of her Student Council matters and serving as an assistant whenever he could, there was always more work ready to take its place. Being able to walk part of the way back to the dorm with her was always calming, but she usually had other plans and would leave before he could ask her to join him for a cup of coffee or to walk around the mall and window shop, or something else completely domestic and totally normal that he'd never thought of before. Especially not with a girl he was starting to think that he liked.

And that was a strange thought for him, he realized as he switched his shoes after class. He'd never really liked a girl before, a fact that had made him the butt of countless jokes when he'd been stupid enough to mention it once. But the girls his age just never did anything for him. They were loud, clingy and emotional, usually talked forever about shoes and their nails and how they were getting fat despite a new diet, and seemed to lack any self-awareness. He'd stopped counting how many times he'd told the girls around him to find better friends instead of hanging onto the ones who were borrowing money, missing dates, and stealing their boyfriends. It never worked.

But it wasn't to say he didn't have female friends. Saejima in the Student Council was warming up to him and found his sense of humour hilarious. Yuko on the school running team said she liked his down-to-Earth personality. Yukari, though he'd be hesitant to call her a friend, was easy to talk to when it came to business and matters at the dorm. And Fuuka was spending more of her free time around him, talking about machinery and books. Minato's mother had been an engineer, so the topics were simple to discuss. All in all, he got along with the girls around him just fine.

But Mitsuru-senpai was different. What she was like posed no challenge to him. He'd grown up around the Kirijo, after all, and could see their influence on her, from her poise and insight to her determination and leadership. Or perhaps she perfectly embodied those qualities that the Kirijo were founded on. Either way, she was wealthy, smart, classy, and would have stared a melting glacier into frozen submission before she ever took 'no' for an answer.

It was everything else about her that he couldn't understand. She looked out for the students in the dorm like they were under her care. He'd thought it was a superiority thing, or a show of how she could look after her pets to prove her responsibility, but those notions died within days of their first conversation. No, she looked after them because she cared. Because in spite of her being their boss, she saw them as people instead of assets. It showed in how she talked to them, regardless of Yukari's attitude. He didn't know how she juggled her work life and her social responsibilities and still came across as a person, but she did it flawlessly.

And there was the side of her that he never would have expected. The side he kept to himself every time his classmates asked. The part of her that fought like a devil and rode motorcycles in skin-tight leather. Or that handled swords like a champion and could blow an entire hallway clean of Shadows with a smile that showed those delicate teeth and fine lips while the walls smoked around her. Reserve and decorum, first and foremost, but a wild tide underneath that swept away anything that stood against her.

He sighed as he passed through the doors. She was intriguing, and he felt welcome around her. She was a leader, a hellion with her Persona, and loved swords even more than he did. Add the fact that she was smart, confident, classy, and smelled really, really good, and he could admit to himself that he did indeed like her like no other girl he'd known before. But that was a problem by itself. After all, he had no idea where he stood with her, how to approach a conversation that didn't involve advanced algebra or Evoker maintenance, and didn't know if she was even available. The Kirijo were old money, so they probably had a traditional approach to the children of the company heads, and Minato didn't even know if Akihiko-senpai was part of that equation or not.

So many questions, so many reasons to stay back, and yet there was a tug in him, an anchor resting next to his heart, that was pulling him along. And regardless of him knowing how or why, or even whether it was a good idea, he knew that he'd follow her until he had some answers. And that left him rubbing his eyes, confused on what he should do.

Then the felt a cold, familiar stab of pain behind his ears, and thoughts of girls in leather atop motorcycles fled his mind as he began to sweat. It began in a tingle and spread around his eyes. Needling. Prickling. He left the school grounds and headed down the streets at a brisk pace and tried to keep his head still, fending off the approaching pain. He'd just reached the dorm's front doors when the backs of his eyes felt like a blade was being jammed into them. Giving a cursory greeting to Junpei and Akihiko-senpai in the front foyer, he took the stairs three at a time, one destination in mind. The pain subsided by the time he got to his door, but it gave rise to a familiar feeling, one that he pushed down as best he could. Just a bit further.

Once he was inside, surrounded by shelves and desks and papers and electronics wires, he quietly walked over to his music station and turned it on, letting the small but modest speakers fill the air with booming bass and growling lyrics and European metal, thrumming against his sternum and giving him something to focus on. When Junpei had visited shortly after they were both settled in, he'd been surprised by Minato's choice in music and how loud he liked it. "It's for my linguistics class," he'd told his teammate. "The lyrics help with my composition and sentence structure." Junpei had looked at him like he'd said Akihiko-senpai had taken up line-dancing in his spare time. Unlike his classmates, though, they weren't put off by dry humour and a cold shoulder. No matter what jokes he brought up or which deflections came to mind, he couldn't ignore them when they wanted to be heard. Nor the state of his own soul and the inhabitants who now shared that space.

His Personas were getting aggravating, and attempts to push them away were like climbing up greased rope. He'd turned them loose against the Shadows during their last visit to Tartarus, then worked on merging their power, trying to exhaust them enough that the noise would stop. It didn't matter; they were still there, humming and buzzing under the surface like a stripped power line. No matter how easy controlling them seemed, they were always restless. Almost agitated. And the only time the feeling subsided was when he was fighting in Tartarus or running with Akihiko-senpai, too focused on what was going on around him and where he was setting his feet to let the feeling get to him. In the silence of normalcy, with no threat of Shadows or concrete to deal with, they were a constant distraction. His music was only a temporary reprieve, and he couldn't play it as loud as he wanted to without being evicted. It would need to be that loud, too, because his Personas were itching around his eardrums even now, mocking his efforts to drown them out.

Even the strange pair from the Velvet Room were at a loss as to what his problem was. Minato gave a soft snort at the memory. Well, Elizabeth seemed perplexed. Igor was fascinated by how many Personas he had shuffled away in his mind, and seemed far more interested in 'the implications' than in Minato's repeated questions. In the end, he'd left with some focusing exercises and Elizabeth's parting request to see the outside world. He couldn't blame her for that, really – if he were stuck in the same room with Igor for however long she'd been there, he'd be climbing the walls too.

He let out a long, steady breath before turning up his music a bit more. Then perched on the edge of the desk, rests his hands at his sides, and let his mind drift on the currents of piano chords and screaming guitar riffs and high operatic lyrics. His Personas followed him, taunting and needling itch with the need to turn them loose. But this time he didn't push them away. He didn't fight against them. Or shove them down. Or let them pull him one way or the other. He let the music wash over him, then felt them move around him.

Like fluid. Be as water.

The effect was gradual, but it worked well. At first they kept pushing against him, but he fought the itch to kick back. Soon they seemed lost, like they couldn't find him. Instead of pressing into his skin, they brushed against his mind like tadpoles, looking for what had been fighting back so much lately. He stilled the impulse to smile, not wanting to give himself away.

No resistance. No force. Flow from one breath, one thought, into the next.

They drifted around his mind like fish in the current. Searching, but going with the flow until they had a target. They felt almost docile, so much so it was hard to believe they'd been fighting him as much as they had. He let himself relax a little, finally free of the nagging sensation. It was temporary, and he knew that, but he'd take it however he could. And he let himself sink into that feeling. Deeper. Further. And further still. His fluid consciousness seeped into the cracks of his soul. He let his serenity slip and indulged in a moment of pride and triumph. Maybe this was it, and the old man's ramblings had been on the mark. Perhaps this was how he controlled his Personas, by letting go of his control instead of damming them up until they broke free. He floated there, bobbing in the sea of semi-consciousness and heavy bass and letting his Personas swirl around him. After fighting them for so long, not having to was a welcome relief.

He had no idea how long it was, ten minutes or two hours, when a stray current came to his attention. His consciousness stirred in response, and he turned his attention toward it. Wrapping calm Zen and heavy metal around him like a steel coat, he reached for it slowly so he wouldn't disturb his Personas. But when he moved for it, whatever it was, all he caught was echoes and fog. He tried again, and the presence, faint as wind chimes across a busy street, receded even further. His focus wavered as he frowned – it was gone now. Like it was doing to him what he just did to his Personas.

As though thinking the word woke them up, they stirred and flowed against him, more insistent as his consciousness arose and returned to the real world. His eyes slid open slowly, steadying against the vertigo from meditating while standing. Then his nerves prickled as his Personas returned, albeit more subdued than before. Minato took a bracing breath and shut his music off, mentally preparing for dinner and his homework – his watch showed him he'd been at it for almost an hour.

But as he rubbed his face with both hands, his mind went back to that elusive feeling that nudged him out of his calm. It was strange how faint it felt, but then it evaporated when he tried to reach for it like it wasn't even there. He had nothing else to go on, but the faintest touch he got of it told him that it was foreign and new, which was an unusual feeling for him. He'd drawn on his Personas countless times now, and it never felt out of place. He'd fused them and found them and figured out all he could. But that feeling… it wasn't from his Personas. Nothing else came to mind, considering how brief the feeling was. Much as he wanted to brush it off, his instincts told him not to. It had been there, been real if only for a second. And whatever it was, it felt like it came from somewhere different than his Personas.

Someplace… deeper.


"Go back a minute. What do you mean 'deeper'?" Akihiko-senpai asked two days later while they were jogging across Port Island.

"It feels like it's coming from somewhere I can't get to. Like water pressure when you go diving, but if it stopped you instead of just getting tighter." Minato stopped at the train station and rested against the railing, taking swigs of water and wiping the sweat from his brow. "I guess that means you've never heard of that or felt the same way before."

Akihiko-senpai looked troubled as he leaned against the rail, barely a foot away. He drank from his own water bottle before answering. "I've never heard of there being anything 'deeper' than a Persona. Polydeuces is deep enough for me, and I think Mitsuru's the same. I've never felt anything deeper than that."

Minato sighed. "So we're in the dark again."

"It seems so, and I wish we had more answers for you. It's tough when you're the first to do something, especially when it goes against the grain as much as it does. I mean, do you have any idea why you can go deeper than your Personas?"

The thought made the younger man pause in thought. He'd been thinking of it and coming up with nothing, but their run had gotten the juices flowing, and he started at the beginning of the thought stream. "Well, if I have more than one of them, then it make sense that I'd need the space for them, right?"

His senpai looked at him for a moment before giving a shrug. "That's an odd approach to take considering what they are, but go ahead. It makes some sense."

Minato stayed silent, his mind running twice as fast as he had ten minutes before. "What if me finding them or fusing them isn't an external thing, but just pulling them out of a place that's already there? A place like that would have to be huge. Which means that it would be deep to accommodate the others so they have a place to be." Akihiko-senpai looked dubious, and Minato shrugged in response. "I don't know. That idea seems weak to me too, but it's the best I can do right now."

"Is that what it feels like? That you're finding them inside yourself? Because that would make sense, as much as anything about our Personas does, if that were the case." Akihiko-senpai mulled it over, then sighed. "Let me ask you something. Personas are usually born from a stress response, from being in danger and afraid and having the talent in the first place. Your Personas woke up here, but is it possible that you were in a situation like that before?"

Minato thought back to his times in school and kendo training, but came up with nothing. "I don't think so. Maybe when my parents and sister died, but that was a car accident, not a direct threat."

They waited until a group of students passed them by before Akihiko-senpai spoke up again. "Yeah, but that was ten years ago. To a kid, that would have been threatening. So maybe you woke something up back then and haven't been able to use it until now."

He shook his head. "I've considered that, but it doesn't make sense. If I had the talent and a Persona back then, why couldn't I use it until now? Or feel it? Why wait until coming here before it manifested?"

Akihiko-senpai tapped his thumb against the railing, looking thoughtful. "Personas respond to the things around us, but we mostly use them in the Dark Hour. It's a lot harder to use them in the daytime, isn't it? Maybe you needed the circumstances to be right and you never felt in danger until then, but when you did, you had another Persona from before. You did manifest two of them on your first try."

Minato frowned. He hadn't considered that. "So you think I had more than one critical experience before they awoke, so I've always had more than one Persona?"

"It would make sense, considering your background," Akihiko-senpai concluded. "Of course, I don't know one way or the other, but different people show their talents in different ways, and I've never heard of a case like yours. So we have to take a few things on faith."

That made sense. And there were a lot of things, Minato was learning, that they were pinning on faith considering their circumstances. "It could be. I don't know for sure, but it's the only thing that comes to mind."

His senpai nodded with an upturn of his lips. "Well, it sounds like a good place to start. And you said you could make more Personas. What's that like? I mean, how does it work?"

"I'm not sure how to explain it. It's just something I do with a little help, and I'd rather not do it at all," he admitted, glancing to the streets below. "There's a lot of power in them, and it feels like being a lion tamer with a dead cow behind me. Sometimes they listen. Other times they get pushy, let's just say. And relying on them feels like a bad idea. It would be easy to use them as a crutch, after all."

"That's smart. Too much power can be dangerous. Especially where Personas are involved." There was that grim look to Akihiko-senpai's face again, the same that he'd worn when he talked about Personas going out of control. "It's good that you're thinking about these things and taking them seriously."

"It's hard not to," Minato replied. "I woke up in a hospital when things went sideways the first time. I don't want to find out what could happen now that they've gotten stronger."

"And you're the team leader now," Akihiko-senpai asserted with a sideways smile. "You can't be reckless just for the sake of killing Shadows. Even if she gave you carte blanche to do things how you want, Mitsuru would kill you if you did something stupid like that."

There it was again – Akihiko-senpai talking about Mitsuru-senpai so familiarly. Of course it made sense, considering how long they'd been comrades in arms. That didn't stop the questions from nagging him. Minato stayed quiet, forming his words for his next question. It wasn't really his business, but he wanted to know regardless. He gave a soft snort, his eyes narrowing as he caught his own lie. No, it was his business now, no matter how tangentially. He was her secretary and assistant, after all. And their team leader, since they'd given him the job without even asking. There were some details that he was privy to.

Now he just needed a proper way to ask the questions. Minato let out a long breath before taking the plunge. "Akihiko-senpai, how long have you known Mitsuru-senpai?"

"Hm? Oh, I don't know. Years. Since I was in jr. high, I think. She scouted me when I started fighting in school tournaments. Why?"

"You two seem to work well together. And you're both good fighters." He wanted to bite his tongue and stop there, referring to the best boxer in his grade, regardless of district, as simply 'good,' but he continued on. "So I figured you two would be close since, you know, she doesn't seem the sort to trust people easily. And you two are close. As a team, that is."

Akihiko-senpai turned an inquisitive eye toward him, and Minato cursed his interest and fumbling words. That never happened when he was talking to the others or about someone – anyone – else. He'd gone too far, and he knew it from the understanding glint in that look. And the small smile across those pale lips didn't help either. "Mitsuru's always been my boss," Akihiko-senpai told him after drawing out the suspense. His tone was steady and impossible to read.

The team leader cringed. A standard, non-committal answer that was forcing his hand. "But you're not… well, you're close to her, right?"

"I've fought beside her for years. Fought with her sometimes, too. We're comrades, after all, so yeah, we're close."

Minato grimaced. Akihiko-senpai was dancing around the real question, and Minato looked like a fool for his curiosity. "But you don't feel… I mean, she's your boss sure, but what about…"

"What about what? Our working relationship? It's not much different from how we are now. Attending the same school, living together in the dorm, the usual. She handles the politics from the Kirijo Group, and I fight Shadows when they come up."Akihiko-senpai's smile quivered a little, and that glint deepened while Minato's insides sank. "That's how it's always been, and she's good at what she does. I admire how she handles things on that front, you know? She's got a lot of followers because of it. Something about her, about how she deals with things so easily."

"I… that's a good point," Minato replied weakly, trying to not sound too irritated by how easily his senpai was holding his answers out of reach like a piece of fish in front of a cat.

"And it carries over to how she fights. Well, you've seen that already, but she's an important part of the fencing team here. She gets requests from scouts every year. She's been offered full scholarship to any university she wants to attend, but that's because of her academics, too. Her family name, school experience, grades, all those things." This had to be the most Minato had heard the reticent fighter say. Ever. He would have been impressed if he weren't on the receiving end of Akihiko-senpai's wit. As it was, he felt like an idiot for being seen through so easily, and frustrated that his answers were beyond his reach. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, it seems that, with all you've said, it's odd that she doesn't have suitors." And Minato wanted to kick himself the second he said the words. The first coherent sentence he'd had, and his mind went there? He may as well have been wearing a sign.

Akihiko-senpai chuckled and shrugged. "There've been interested parties, from the Kirijo Group or other students. They never seem to get anywhere with her though."

So there weren't others vying for her attention. That was good, but it didn't answer the question of Akihiko-senpai himself. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Like I said, we're comrades and friends. We're past jealousy and that sort of thing. Why do you ask?"

It was an opening, a chance for Minato to spare himself any further embarrassment. It also meant he wouldn't get any further on the topic today, but that was better than looking like an idiot. "I'm just wondering. She's a pretty impressive person when you look at her credentials. But I was wondering about something else: why doesn't SEES know much about the Shadows we're facing, or the tower? You said that you didn't have the people before, right? That there was a conflict of interest. What were the others like, before me and Yukari and Junpei?"

Akihiko-senpai's features settled once the topic shifted, the humour leveling off. "We always had support from the Kirijo. Mitsuru's father saw to that. But Persona-users are rare, so it's not like we had a small army to work with. It's actually pretty strange that we have as many of you as we do now. But yeah, we weren't the only ones."

"I don't understand. If Mitsuru-senpai was the leader back then, and you had the candidates to explore Tartarus and the Shadows, then how was it different from what we're doing now?"

Akihiko-senpai was silent for a long moment, then looked out over the streets. There was a grim set to his face, along with something else Minato couldn't place. Anger, focus, and unpleasant memories were what he read, and that made sense since he'd heard Akihiko-senpai was an orphan, but there was something else there. Sadness? Regret? He couldn't tell.

"There was another one of us," he replied finally, his voice so soft that Minato had to lean closer to hear him clearly. "An old friend of mine. But the job, his Persona, it got to him. Not at first, and not really after, but he found it hard to deal with in the moment." He sighed and held his hand out, clenching it into a fist before unclenching it, doing it over and over again. "Maybe he would've been happier now that we have a purpose and an enemy to fight. That was something we lacked before; we were just hunting down the small fry instead of these big ones that keep popping up. Either way, he gave up being part of SEES and using his Persona, and that's why we had to stop our investigations. Until you and Takeba and Junpei joined up, we didn't have the manpower. And Tartarus was too big a target to hit with three of us, let alone just two."

"So a lot of this is new for you and Mitsuru-senpai as well," Minato mused.

"Of course. We've never seen anything as big as the Shadow in the train yard or the one that attacked the dorm. Nothing like that came up while we were active, and the Kirijo Group doesn't know anything about them." Akihiko-senpai gave a grunt and shifted in place. "Believe me, we've grilled them for everything they know about the Shadows."

It was good to know Akihiko-senpai wasn't putting the Group above suspicion. Minato threaded his fingers together in thought. "If that's the case, do you think your friend would ever come back? Now that we're dealing with these bigger Shadows, even with Fuuka supporting us, we could use more people. Especially if he has earlier experience with a Persona."

He got a shake of the head in response. "Considering why he left in the first place, I doubt it. I try to talk him into it whenever I see him, but he's always been stubborn."

"If that's the case, and it might not be for me to say this, but I would think he'd try to stick with SEES and work through the problem instead of dropping it."

To his surprise, Akihiko gave a grim, brittle laugh. "Too stubborn to give up, so he should've kept with it? I thought so too, but he surprised us when he left." His senpai's eyes went distant again. "Sometimes people change, I guess. I wouldn't have expected it from him, but then, I'm not him."

It was the obvious question, but Akihiko-senpai's expression was telling him louder than words 'don't ask.' Minato got the impression just then that this was more than a story about a friend who'd gone his own way, and wasn't as clean as it sounded. "Do you know…"

The look he got said it all, that he was walking on dangerous ground. Not because Akihiko-senpai would snap at him, and perhaps he would, but because the wrong word would break the new, fragile friendship between them. "What?" Akihiko-senpai's tone was grim and quiet, readying for a blow.

And Minato knew better than to try to tread on such raw wounds. Especially with someone he respected this much. "No, it's nothing. Forget I said anything. Thanks for the information though, Akihiko-senpai. Do you think we'll meet any other Persona-users from here on?"

His senpai blinked, then smiled as the mood lightened. He looked a bit grateful and more like the fighter that Minato recognized. "I have no idea. Before you, I would have said it wasn't possible for one person to have more than one Persona, and that Shadows the size of the ones we've seen were impossible. But we seem to be learning these things as we go. And I have the feeling that this… whatever you want to call it, the Lost and the fight against the Shadows, it's all a long way from ending."

"We'll be ready for them," Minato replied. "That's what Tartarus is for, right?"

That got a half smile from Akihiko-senpai, but his chuckle lacked the grim tone he'd had before. "One way or the other, yeah." Then he checked his watch, pushing away from the rail a moment after. "We should head back if we're going to be ready for school." Minato nodded and followed, falling into step next to him. "You're doing a good job, you know," the older student told him after a few minutes. "I don't know if that comes across, but handling the Shadow operations, leading the team, you've come a long way considering all the crap we threw at you from the start. Mitsuru's mentioned it as well."

Was this pity? An apology for withholding information? Repayment for not asking that question? Minato couldn't tell. Whatever the motivation, he felt a spark of pride in his chest. Whether there was something between his senpai or not, and whether he'd know the answer to that question, at least they noticed his efforts. Noticed him. It wasn't much. But it was a good start.

"Thanks, Senpai."


She'd heard through the grapevine that her appreciation for kyudo was an abnormality. The general consensus was that she would have been better suited for the drama club, or being on the swim team. Kyudo was discipline, after all, and much more than just shooting arrows. Focus, concentration, a path to the self according to those old movies. And she was too lively, too energetic to sit in place and meditate while wearing clothes that belonged in an Edo-era festival or the museum.

She snorted as she set another arrow against the string. The swim team. Right. Those idiots just wanted to see her in a swimsuit and take pictures.

Inhale. Draw. Pause. Release on the exhale.

Her arrow snapped forward, soared across the range, and slammed into the target.

She smiled at the shot. Bullseye. That was better. She'd been off her game since Ikutsuki had returned her Evoker, complete with inscriptions. Mitsuru-senpai had needed to translate them, but the memory still made her click her tongue against her teeth in irritation.

He is braver who conquers his desires than he who conquers his enemies; the harder and greater victory is one over the self.

Of course she knew that dealing with her feelings was important. She hadn't been sleeping through the kyudo lessons, after all, and hadn't gotten this good at it out of luck. She controlled her reactions to working with the Kirijo, fought beside the others regardless of her personal feelings, and focused on finding out what happened to her dad. Everything she'd done since coming to the dorm had been for the goal of knowing and controlling herself to get what she wanted. But she'd come this far, fought this hard, and still couldn't help the feeling that someone was laughing at her. Especially when Minato-kun and Akihiko-senpai got something that suited them perfectly.

"Um, good morning, Arisato-kun!"

Yukari stiffened, jolted out of her memories by the call of a junior to her left.

"Good morning, Batou-san. How are you? It looks like you've improved since the year started."

Since he'd become associated with the Student Council, Minato-kun's attitude had changed quite a bit. Or rather, she got the impression he was putting effort into being more open and amicable. Probably for Mitsuru-senpai's sake. But where he would have slipped in the back door of the archery range or texted her for a meeting before, this time he'd strolled through the front entrance, nodding and chatting with those around him like he was a missing piece to their puzzle the entire time. It was a remarkable change, how he'd gone from avoiding company to actively participating in it.

And flirted with Batou-chan, if the girl's red cheeks were any indication. He was in his usual slacks and blazer and tie, face half obscured by hair that made her fingers itch for some scissors, and had politely left his shoes at the door. She couldn't remember if he'd been pale or not when he arrived at the dorm, but he seemed healthier than when they'd met. More animated and lively, as much as that was worth for a guy who could kill Shadows and swing swords while looking like he was waiting at the bus stop.

He glanced her way, hands in his pockets and a question in his eyes. She looked away from him, blushing a bit at the memory of his hands on her arms, at how firm his chest felt. She was still kicking herself for letting her cell phone scare her like that. "What's up?" she asked, rolling her wrist back and forth, stretching the ache out of her bones while not looking directly at him.

If he took offense to being a secondary concern of hers, it didn't show. Very little did, though. "I thought we could have a chat. About work and the others."

That was a diplomatic way of putting it, since they were in the middle of her team mates. But she wasn't in a talking mood. "I'm busy right now."

"You've been firing for a while now, and the line-up's growing." He nodded to the small groups of students milling around, watching intently. Some looked curious, but others held bows and seemed to genuinely want to use them.

And it wouldn't have been a good example if she hogged her spot the whole time. "Fine," she sighed. "What is it?"

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I wanted to clear the air between us and start over, if you've got the time."

Blink. Double blink. Well. That was unexpected. "I… what?"

This time he looked her in the eye, sober and unflinching. "You have reservations about the Kirijo Group, and I think you see me in the same light as Mitsuru-senpai and Akihiko-senpai, that I'm here on their orders or that I have an in with the company and how they operate. That's not the case. The Kirijo took me in when my family died, and they've been paying for my schooling and boarding ever since. That's it."

He wasn't lying. She could tell that much by his eye, and his story felt too solid to be fabricated for her benefit. But that didn't stop the question that had plagued her since she'd first heard his story. "Why?"

"I don't know. I never asked when I was younger, and I just got 'This is how things are done' when I asked them a few weeks ago. Maybe that's their policy with employees and their families, and it could be that my parents were working for them when they died. Perhaps they knew someone who's been helping me from the sidelines. I don't have an answer to that question, and it's not because I'm keeping secrets or haven't tried."

Nice and direct. Just like him. And she had a hard time finding faults with his logic. "Why tell me this?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, I want make sure things are alright between us. We're comrades and friends, and I don't really care if I'm being presumptuous by saying that. If there's a problem, I'd like to clear it up and not leave it unaddressed. What we're doing is too important to let trivialities get in the way."

His answer made sense, and no matter how closely she watched him, she couldn't pick up any deception from him. Of course, she couldn't pick up much of anything from him anyway, but for all her wariness, she hadn't heard a word about her 'hooking up with the new guy' like she had when he'd transferred. Whatever his reasons, he hadn't said a word about her jumping against him when they'd gone looking for Fuuka. And that was worth something in her books. She sighed and nodded toward the wall at the back of the shooting range, keeping an eye on some of the newer students once they got there. "Alright. If there's a problem with how things are run, I'll let you know. What else did you need?"

He checked his phone for the time and leaned against the wall at a respectful distance, crossing his legs at the ankles nonchalantly. "I'm just curious about your opinion on how things are going at work. You were part of the group before me and Junpei, and I thought you might have some perspective on the particulars of the job that I don't."

Whatever her initial misgivings concerning his flippant sense of humour, to say nothing of his timing, Minato-kun was very good at getting to the point and making things sound natural. "I guess. I'm not sure it would compare to how you started out. I didn't have things go out of control when I was hired like you did."

"But you're part of the team, and you were there before I was." Her eyes narrowed a bit. If he wanted to know how SEES ran, why wasn't he asking Mitsuru-senpai and Akihiko-senpai? They were the founding members and were in the know with the Kirijo, unlike the rest of them. Like he'd read her train of thought, Minato-kun's smile widened a little. "I've talked to our senpai about it, but their opinion of things would be different from yours or Junpei's. They know what's going on at the upper levels with the Kirijo, so things probably make sense to them. At our level, though, things might not connect as easily."

That caught her by surprise, but not as much as it would have before. Minato-kun was nothing if not thorough, and he wouldn't let their senpai off the hook for no reason. "You doubt them? I thought you were close to Akihiko-senpai."

"I am," he told her simply. "But that's not the same thing. I don't think they'd lie to us, but that doesn't mean that their answers are completely correct. Despite all this time and energy the Kirijo have put into their research, they seem to be as in the dark about the last couple of months as we are, and that's kind of strange considering their history and resources. I think that there's something they're missing, and they might not see it because they think they have the answers."

"Or they do have them and they just aren't telling us," she suggested, keeping the anger out of her voice.

"That's also possible." She gave a small 'hm?' in surprise. Considering how tight he seemed with the Kirijo, hearing him openly doubt them was a change she hadn't expected. Again, he seemed to know exactly what was on her mind. "There are too many unanswered questions about this whole situation for them to be completely innocent. And I'm not saying that they are hiding something. But it's worth keeping the possibilities open."

She let that sink in, then relaxed against the wall with a sigh. She was glad that their leader was keeping his eyes open. "Well, I don't have much else to say. I don't like being under their thumb, but considering everything that's going on, I can't complain too much. I mean, it's like you said; we're dealing with things that no one's gone through before. So we're not doing too bad, considering."

"I'm glad to hear it. If that changes, let me know."

"Sure, I will."

He turned toward her and extended his right hand. "Are we alright?"

She looked at it warily. The thought of him raising it to his face and kissing it in front of everyone flashed before her eyes. But no, she decided with a small shake of her head. Minato-kun wasn't like that. He'd always been polite, and he'd come to see her to settle things without knowing how she'd react. She might not trust all the unanswered questions around him, but she knew that he wouldn't betray her.

Yukari reached out and took his hand firmly in hers, sealing their deal with the shake. His palm and fingers were tough, callused, which didn't surprise her considering how much swordplay he engaged in. What did surprise her was how warm it was. She hadn't thought someone so slender would generate that much heat. "Yeah, I guess we are. Just keep your eyes open. Mitsuru-senpai's been helpful, but I don't trust the Group and their politics."

He took his hand back and tapped the wall thoughtfully. "I don't blame you for that. Though it seems like you know more about them than most. The students just know that they built the school and leave it at that. They rarely take any interest in politics."

Yukari grimaced. "That's… personal. Not a happy topic for me."

"I see. I'm sorry for bringing it up." She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that she was still struggling with what her dad's work with the Group had done to her family. But he beat her to the punch. "Anyway, what do you think of the others? Fuuka seems to be fitting in alright."

"We've been talking a lot. She's pretty interesting once she opens her mouth. And she says you've been helping her out a lot too. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that."

He gave a small smile and a shrug. "She could use someone in her corner. It's better for her than her being delegated as a social outcast or tossed to the sidelines all the time. If it can help her, then it's worth the effort."

Then there was a heavy silence between them as their minds went to the last member of their group and his recent streak of recklessness. Disobeying orders, fighting on his own, and getting careless when they were going slow. Yukari's mood dropped when she considered the implications, and it didn't look like Minato-kun wanted to talk about him either. But classes were starting soon, and they had just promised to talk about their work problems openly. "What about Junpei?"

Minato-kun sighed, looking away. "It's hard to say. I thought he needed his space, but things are getting worse. Last week was toeing the line in a serious way. If he pushes things any more, our senpai might step in, and I don't think that will end well."

"But it's not like we can suspend him," she pointed out. "I mean, we'll need everyone in top shape pretty soon, and we can't afford for him to not be at his best. What if there's two of them again?"

His expression was stony, but she could see the conflict in his eye and the twitch of his cheeks. "I feel the same way. I'm not sure how things will work out. I know that he's jealous about something, but I haven't a clue as to what his problem is."

Yukari thought it was pretty obvious. Junpei had always been in the background, so being part of SEES was a chance to shine in ways no one else could. But Minato-kun's tactics, Personas, brains and being elected leader right from the start was putting him back where he'd been before – at the bottom of the totem pole. She knew it was tough on him, but there wasn't anything she could do about it, and his pride wouldn't let him accept her help, either. She clicked her tongue and changed the subject; she'd heard some rumours that needed to be confirmed. "So how are you fitting in? It seems like you've been making some waves this past week."

His expression broke into a short, wry smile as he glanced at her. "You heard about that, did you? I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

She didn't see what was so funny about being called out to kendo 'practice' by four students. "You can back out if you're worried, you know. I'll talk to some of them, and I'm sure Hidetoshi would do the same."

"And they'd say I can't stick up for myself or fight my own battles," he pointed out with half a smile. She rolled her eyes exasperatedly, but he held out a calming hand. "I know what you're thinking, but it's not just male pride or ego. If I rely on others to solve my problems, I'll never hear the end of it around here. Better to deal with problems head on in that case, right?"

She frowned, then let out a weary sigh. "So what are you doing about it then? Arm-wrestling a hundred of them in a row?"

He chuckled and an anticipatory light sparked in his eyes, reminding her of their missions in Tartarus. "Stop by the kendo ring later today. You'll see then."


She did, as he noticed later on. So did Fuuka and Junpei. Her and about fifty other students were seated or standing or slouched around the kendo ring, looking on with bated breath. It seemed that word of mouth was indeed an impressive force in Gekkoukan High, and Minato didn't bother to keep the smirk from his face. There were a few enterprising students scurrying around with money and ledgers, placing bets. He regretted leaving his wallet in his jacket, which was safely stowed away, and made a note to ask Yukari later what his odds were.

"So, you ready Arisato?"

Minato turned to see the group who'd invited him, two in proper kendo gear, the other two down to their shirts and staying back. He shifted the shinai in his hand, deliberately holding it wrong. "Sure. So, what're the rules? And we are just practicing, right?"

The spokesman grinned, in no way friendly or inviting. "Of course. And they're simple – just sparring until you or we can't anymore, like losing our weapons or being out of the ring, or if you can't get up. By the way, are you left-handed?"

Perfect excuse to beat him if none of those applied to him. On the off chance that they actually landed a hit. "Nope. Why?"

"No reason."

Liar. He looked them over, assessing their stances before adopting his naiveté again."Are all of you necessary for this? I thought it was going to be one at a time."

"We'll stay back and observe. No worries."

"Right. Well, I guess we should start, right?" He shifted into place, leaving openings, and settled his breathing before closing his eyes. The world hummed around him, his Personas swirled around his consciousness, and countless hours of training were laid out before his mind. Instructions came back on the currents of memory, old and new.

Muscles loose. Balance centred. In. Out. In. Out.

He reopened his eyes, noting their positions around him. Clever, but there were gaps that would cost them dearly when they moved. It was obvious they were working together, but weren't used to it. He tilted his hand out, silently asking well? What's keeping you?

The first one rushed him and swung with a shout. Minato let himself flow back half a step, taken aback by the blatant move. He worked to keep his disbelief at bay – some sloppiness was expected, but this was pathetic. Bad balance, too much forward momentum, and his opponent was projecting his strikes so obviously that he would have missed even if Minato had molasses in his veins.

As it was, Minato stepped back and grabbed the closest arm as it passed him, spinning along with it, over-balancing the student and tripping him as he passed, then completing the spin and letting the rush, too strong to stop, do the rest. He hadn't even bothered swing his shinai.

The student's kendo gear was impressive, and impressively loud as he crashed to the floor, clearly outside the ring. Minato balanced on his foot and finished his turn like a dancer, swaying like a willow in the wind as he faced the other armoured student, whose eyes mirrored shock and disbelief. "That counts, right? I mean, he's out of the ring," Minato pointed out, keeping up his naiveté but letting the deadpan return to his voice. He stopped carelessly holding his shinai, prepared for the others however they came.

The remaining geared student shuffled in place, trying to match the disparity between what he saw Minato do versus what he saw before him and what they'd expected. Then he gripped his shinai and bolted forward, swinging around in a wide arc–

Only to stop in his tracks when Minato lunged and swung down. Their weapons cracked together and he'd cut the power out of the blow before it really started. Disbelief was in the student's eyes again, but he grunted angrily and swung again. And Minato interrupted the strike once more, right in front of him like a flag before the bull. And like the bull, the student charged, trying to shove Minato back or push him to the ground.

Minato budged an entire inch and a half. Then stopped dead in his tracks, weight braced forward and completely unmoving. The students around them gasped and murmured, questioning how someone as skinny as Arisato (and he resented that label. He wasn't skinny – clothing just made him look slender) was stopping someone forty pounds heavier than he was. And that was before taking the armour into account.

He let them wonder and shoved back, offsetting the student's balance, then wrapped his leg between his opponent's, and grappled, shoved hard, and spun all at once. The student tried to catch his balance, but overcorrected and slammed into the mat hard.

Minato stood over him, looking down curiously before stepping on his sword hand, keeping the still-clenched weapon in place. Then he whacked the student across the mask with his shinai, ignoring his attempts to get away. "You fight for points in kendo, right? And call your target when you plan on hitting it?" he asked, facing the remaining two and their pale, chagrined faces. "In that case, face," and he swung again, connecting with the mask, and the student wearing it. Again. Again. And again. When the student's free arm reached up, to stop the swings or grab at Minato, he swung down sharply, cracking the shinai across the student's knuckles. "Wrist," Minato called, before stepping back and kicking the student's shinai from his open fist and out of the ring with one more crack across the face. The student rolled away stopped trying to get up, trying to catch his wind.

"Stay down, please," Minato told him. "Be a good sport of it, alright?" He glanced at the other armoured student, glaring from the sidelines but empty-handed and staying where he was. Minato looked and saw Junpei, who looked up from the students and locked eyes with him before shaking his head, disgust written on his face, and pushing through the crowd to leave. Minato shrugged and turned, mind set on the fight and not on his comrade's attitude. He spun his weapon through his fingers, walking towards the centre of the ring and addressing the remaining two opponents. "Now then, I think this is more appropriate, no?"

"You lied," their leader whispered.

That earned them a toneless chuckle. "So did you, and being at a disadvantage isn't much incentive for me to be honest, is it? Anyway, will you bow out? There's no shame in withdrawing before your betters."

"Don't get cocky!" the leader shouted, rushing forward with the last student in tandem. It was a fine attack, well-coordinated once the shock wore off, and might have defeated a less-skilled opponent. Minato, however, flowed around them, parrying and dodging and never staying where they wanted him to. He chuckled each time they missed, letting them fumble around him. And, because he wasn't done having his fun, he darted forward and shouted "Body!", and the student flinched back. Minato's lips peeled back, watching as he realized that he was being toyed with. Minato started striking, keeping them separated and dancing from strike to block to parry, shouting his targets and snapping out feints. The student's nerve broke, and he rushed forward and cut downward, trying to break Minato's concentration.

Thrusts were faster than cuts, however. Minato lunged forward like greased lightning, the tip of his shinai cracking against the student's solar plexus. His gasp and the impact echoed in the room before he crumpled to the floor, unarmed, nerveless, and struggling to breathe through the pain.

One more to go.

Whether by instinct or his Personas, Minato knew where he was, and time slowed as he spun. Every muscle and tendon, every nerve, feet to calves to hips, arms to shoulders, his whole upper body, pulled around at once. He didn't even need to see where the strike was coming from.

His body twisted and the shinai came around, powering his swing as it began its arc.

Around. Faster. His head turned, catching sight of his target.

A growl rose in his chest as he swung. Lunging forward half a step and throwing his weight into the blow, he swung. And caught the descending weapon in the middle. The collision jolted his wrists and sounded like a whip crack, stopping the spokesman in place. The impact was so great it tore the weapon free from the student's grasp, sending it flying. It spun in a lazy arc, end over end, and slammed into the weapon stand at the side of the ring. Students scattered away from it in shock, and the practice weapons crashed across the floor, a rattling report breaking the tension.

Two disarmed, one disqualified, and one still struggling to breathe past the pain. The match was over. Yukari and Fuuka were at the edge of the crowd, looking relieved and a bit proud. Minato stood before their leader, shinai held at his troat, and he was just starting to breathe hard. The stunned silence around them was like a wall, the spotlight on them and no one else. His smile was frozen into place, and he tapped the tip against his foe's chest. "Game, set, match: Arisato."

"You cheated."

"Hardly. I capitalized on a misconception. You took the bait, and this is the result." The student's eyes narrowed, but Minato glared him down. "You were planning on ambushing me and leaving me black and blue on the floor, so you don't get to play the injured party."

"There are others, you know," he hissed. "Not just us."

"And they'll get the same treatment," Minato replied coldly before letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Look, I didn't ask to move into the same dorm as Mitsuru-senpai. Those were the arrangements that were made outside of my influence. Same as Yukari – she was already living there when I arrived. I didn't have a choice in the matter, and I'm not trying to steal her away from anyone. We happen to work together and that's it. So you don't like me? That's fine – we don't have to be friends. But this," he gestured around them, "is going to happen each time you try to get rid of me, and next time I might not hold back. So why don't we agree to let this go and just move on?"

The student scoffed, anger and denial clear on his face. "You think you can beat all of us?"

"If they fight like you do, I know I can." The glares he got could have killed a musk ox, but he held a hand out. "Come on. Just let it go. I don't want to waste my time here when I don't have to, and winning the bets and taking everyone's money is going to get boring, even for me."

The glares kept up, but there was doubt there too. They'd read his sincerity, and he was sincere, and were reconsidering a few things. Or they just didn't want to fight him again after being trounced so handily. But Minato's musings were interrupted by a faint, familiar scent of peppermint. It drew his eyes around, and he saw her. Mitsuru-senpai, but covered in full-body padding, and he broke into a grin. She was walking away from the gathering, either not noticing or not caring about what was going on, off toward the fencing ring on the other end of the gym. Perfect.

Minato smirked at his glaring opponent and held up a finger. "Excuse me, won't you?" And he left without a response, following her to the fencing mats and tossing his shinai to a student in passing. The crowd parted before him as he moved, and once he got a clear look at her, he saw what she was wearing: fencing gear, complete with two practice swords and a wire mask. "Mitsuru-senpai! Do you have a minute?"

She turned at the sound of his voice and her eyes widened at the crowd behind him before narrowing when she saw the prone students and heard their groans. "What's going on here?"

Minato brushed off her inquiry with a smile and a wave of his hand. "Oh, nothing. We were just settling a dispute, and it turned into a larger event than we expected. A few people heard about it, then a few more, and, well, you know how it goes."

Her eyebrow raised. "So a sparring match became a public spectacle? How many teams were there? And why aren't you in kendo gear if you were fighting?"

"Two teams, senpai. And the rest are harmless details. No one was hurt too badly, after all."

She stared at him, then looked at the kendo ring, putting the pieces together so fast her eyes, those unusual crimson eyes that felt friendly rather than threatening from the very beginning, almost glowed in the artificial light. "I don't think I want to know," she told him finally. "The less I hear about it, the more I can defer to Hidetoshi if anything arises. Would you agree?"

"Entirely, senpai." Now that he was this close to her, he glanced at her fencing gear and noted how well she wore it. And it was her that made it work, because he knew how restrictive it was from experience. There was something about her, a part of her allure, that, even this close, he couldn't explain. He still remembered, vivid as a snapshot, how she looked in her leather motorcycle gear. How she was covered from brows to boots and was unquestionably sexy at the same time with the buckles and grooves running up her figure like a lover's caress. And here she was, clad in off-white padding and canvas, probably on the top five list of the least sexy things to wear, and he had the same feeling as when she'd been straddling her bike. Was there anything that she didn't wear well? Because she made what was a step down from a straightjacket looking like gauzy sleepwear, and it was horribly unfair.

"Anyway," she told him as she turned to walk away, "don't get carried away. We can't afford any injuries, even if you don't think there's a risk."

His blood was up, victory rich in his mouth, and he'd summarily crushed the students who'd been bothering him for weeks. In the rush of the moment, he forgot his uncertainty around her. It was nowhere to be found. "Spar with me."

She took three more steps before the words registered. Then she turned and blinked at him, incredulous. "What did you say?"

"I'd like you to spar with me," he elaborated, finding his words easily. "The match before was a good warm up, but I haven't had the opportunity to see you in action here. And everyone says you're one of the best."

She turned her head, eyeing him skeptically. "That might not be wise, Arisato. There are other fencers on the team you could train with."

"But none of them are you," he pointed out, ignoring the double meaning to the phrase. "And we could call it a learning experience, right?"

"You truly want to fight me?"

He gave a small bow. "I'd consider it an opportunity, honestly. Two out of three?"

She gave him an appraising look, then a small, familiar smile. "…I see. If you are determined to do this, then I accept. So long as you wear the proper equipment."

He quickly went to the equipment racks and tied on a rudimentary practice vest, strapping on gloves and a mask before grabbing a fake saber meeting her in the fencing ring. The crowd that had surrounded him before migrated over, surrounding them with questions and whispers and growing even larger. He brushed off the distractions and focused on his opponent. Her practice rapier was already drawn and at her side, and in her left hand was a shorter blade. A dagger or a gauche, he surmised. That made sense. Most fencers only used one weapon, but he'd seen Mitsuru-senpai tear through Shadows with her Evoker always at hand or nearby. Just fighting with her sword would probably throw her off.

He tested the weight and balance of his weapon, heartbeat picking up again. Unlike the others, who would see one fight as enough, he was just warmed up. He didn't have to worry about his stamina anymore – Tartarus and the Dark Hour had seen to that. He saluted her, which she returned, and snapped a cut toward her, testing her defenses. Where his cuts were hard and sharp, her defenses were light and precise. She was good. She never tried to meet him in strength, instead controlling the fight through misdirection and light parries. It was different from their fights in Tartarus, and it still got his blood up.

He focused on her movements, comparing them to how she fought with a real blade. Footwork, posture, weight and balance, it was different from what he'd seen before. It seemed like she was taking him lightly. Or testing his defences. Either way, she stayed at the full range of her weapon.

Which was why it was a surprise when her sword dug into his chest, right over his heart.

Minato stiffened and saw her practice blade bend between them. Then blinked. "Point," she told him before backing up, not letting her guard down. He hadn't even seen her move. But then, he was distracted, and since he challenged her, it would be bad form to not take her seriously. The crowd murmured even more, and there was applause and several cheers from the students.

Stepping to the side and slipping into a proper fencing stance, he steadied his breathing and focused on her. He was serious, and she read that. Their game began. She'd advance and he'd anticipate her strikes and counter. Then he'd advance and she would return the favour. Forth and back, back and forth, neither overextending or missing a step.

Yukari had been right, back in Tartarus. Fencing was boring to watch, especially between two skilled combatants. Testing for weaknesses, watching the other while checking one's footwork, and learning the tells and habits of the opponent; it all looked like long-range knitting while shuffling along the floor. But such precision was intense in its own right. Minato was sweating more than during his kendo match, and it was all due to his focus and hers. He wouldn't give her an opening, and she was slowing moving her weapons to keep her own weaknesses obscured.

Both toyed around and played with the distance that lay between, but neither committed to a full attack. He had longer arms than she did and was more accustomed to cuts, but she used her two blades easily, forming an excellent defence. It plastered a grin on his face as they moved in synch, and he felt like laughing. Such an affair had to be enjoyed to the fullest, after all. She licked her lips, a small emergence of a pink tongue to ease her breathing. He kept down a shiver, blaming it on how intense her eyes were, burning clearly from behind her mask. Then she lunged. She used his distractions to her advantage, pressing him hard until he caught her flat-footed and slashed back aggressively, following her without letting up. Her feints and parries were losing their precision, and he was sure she almost stumbled once.

He had her and he knew it. Seeing an opening, a chance to end the fight, he lunged. And barely saw her as she flew forward to meet him.

His sword crashed into hers, and the rapier was sent flying when she let it go. In that second, he knew he was screwed. Confident, he'd overextended, stepping too far forward. Her empty hand grabbed his sword arm as it passed and he was pulled forward sharply. He budged a little, and she flowed forward, then around him, latching on and setting him off balance. He pulled back, then to the side. Nothing. She held him immobile, using her leverage and speed to keep him in place. He was about to elbow her or shake her off when he felt her body press against him and dagger slip up against his neck, fake blade against his windpipe.

He didn't move, barely breathed, as he took in the situation. And was frozen in place. She was wrapped around him like a sinuous vine around a tree, holding his sword hand to the side while her legs rested against his. Her left arm was wound around his side and front, steady with her dagger at his neck. And her entire front, padding and all, was plastered against his back.

Her scent filled his nostrils and went straight to his head. Clean spice and mint and light sweat from their sparring, along with something distinctly her. The combination made his insides quiver and his breathing pick up. He was starting to get light-headed, and exertion was the least of his concerns. He couldn't help it – her proximity, pressed up against him, around him, so close her could feel her, them, through the padding, sent his mind reeling. Firm and soft, warm, breathing and alive right against him, her arms around his torso, her pelvis against his waist.

It was another first for him. No one, not a girl his age or anyone else, had ever gotten this close to him. His tongue was failing him, his wits nowhere to be found, and he began to sweat with her being so close, her scent filling his head as he tried to process everything. For all his acumen and skill, he had no idea what to do next.

"Touché," she told him in a tone that was low and decisive, but sounded like a throaty whisper that scorched the side of his face and set his knees trembling. He could imagine the small, satisfied smile across her lips and the dark, clouded look to her eyes. Gracious in victory, but she would enjoy it when the victor was so obvious. And she had earned that right. "That's two out of three, Arisato. A valiant effort. Enough so that we'll try it again, yes?"

She pulled back, slowly running the dagger against his neck like a warning, a reminder of how handily she'd beaten him. Then disengaged from him entirely, and his legs nearly gave out as the inertia of the moment hit. Mitsuru-senpai saluted him before checking her watch and leaving, citing a pressing appointment. He barely heard her. His previous opponents called to him and jeered from the sidelines, vindicated by their senpai's obvious victory. He didn't notice.

Akihiko-senpai came over, waving a hand in front of his face. "You alright? You look a little shaky."

"Yeah. I'm fine." Only he wasn't. His hands were steady, but shivers still ran through his entire body, trembling up his bones and down his marrow. Not anger or nerves or fear or adrenaline. But her. She'd gotten to him, right to the core. And he watched her leave, best he could over the crowd. Red hair free from the mask and flowing over her gear like a vase of red roses on a marble column. He shook his head and tried to brush it off. There were still too many things he didn't know before entertaining these thoughts. Even if he was still shaking, with Akihiko-senpai asking again if he was alright. "I'm fine." Some time and distance were what he needed, and they'd go away on their own.

But they didn't.


The students of the Iwatodai dorm had their traditions and quirks. And not just in summoning high-power manifestations of their psyches to kill creatures that devoured the minds of humans, or scaling a tower that reached to the sky via the stairs since the builders never bothered with an elevator. No, Minato was learning that the people with whom he shared his residence had their own routines that were followed through with, morning, noon and night, like normal teenagers. Junpei stayed up watching movies and complained about oversleeping while rushing out the door five minutes late. Fuuka regularly came to the dinner table wearing smudges of grease and smelling like solder. Mitsuru-senpai had her regular reading times during which interrupting her was tantamount to suicide. Akihiko-senpai did the grocery shopping just so he could stock the fridge with protein drinks and health food that tasted like mouldy cardboard and looked like wet paper. And Yukari took forever in the shower, no matter how many she'd already had. Which wouldn't have bothered Minato in the least if his water piping weren't linked to hers, so when he went to wash the sweat off, he usually did so in cold water. Or luke-warm, if he was lucky.

He let out an annoyed breath, tapping his sword hilt as Fuuka told them about their target and Akihiko-senpai explained the operation. The metallic sound irritated him when he remembered why it was different from usual.

The pre-mission rituals of the SEES members were no less important than their normal ones, if only for their peace of mind, when preparing for a night-time operation. Straightforward as Fuuka found scanning for Shadows, she apparently worked at a high temperature, so she was often sweating by the time the sorties were over. While getting everything prepared, it wasn't unusual to see her with a scarf or a bandana and a cooler of chilled water nearby. Akihiko-senpai shadow-boxed for exactly 11 minutes before they could leave or get an answer from him. Junpei had taken to eating the same thing for dinner, rice and seasoned chicken covered in instant noodles and mirin sauce, on nights they knew they'd be fighting. And Mitsuru-senpai listened to the recordings of her classes in Latin while Yukari paced, 18 feet and 7 5/12 inches, back and forth in the lobby.

"Is everyone ready to go? Arisato, are you with us?"

Minato's routine was a bit less obvious, but had stemmed from his lessons in kendo and fencing. A good grip on the sword was ideal, but fights were chaotic, and grabbing too hard or clenching a fist and digging into his own hand could throw off his focus. He'd only given it partial thought when he'd heard it, but now he could appreciate what his teachers meant. So, before each night's activities, he could be found sitting on the edge of the couch examining his fingernails and meticulously trimming or filing them as needed. It had been an interesting sight when he'd asked to borrow a nail file and emery board from Yukari, but his explanation had put any doubts to rest. And he'd gotten used to the feel of the couch before they left, the sound and feel of the file across his fingertips and the feel of dust on his palms once he was done. It quickly became a relaxation exercise and a strong focusing tool that even put his Personas to rest before the chaos of an expedition into Tartarus.

Which made it all the more aggravating that he'd slept in and rushed in his preparations and had left his nails longer than he wanted while he was being carted off to their new target. He looked up at the dilapidated love hotel with a scowl blacker than a coal mine at midnight, as though it was the one to break his alarm clock and set him behind, and grunted in annoyance. "Yeah. A Shadow's been found in the red light district, and it seems to have brought smaller ones with it." Fuuka nodded, satisfied.

"That's good," Junpei said aloud, rolling his shoulders. "Small place like this means it can't run anywhere and we won't have to go looking very hard for it."

"Agreed. But we'll have to be careful with collateral damage," Minato pointed out, catching some quizzical looks while their senpai nodded approvingly. "The walls are just wood and drywall. Same as the ceilings. If we get carried away, there could be structural damage, and enough of that could be a hazard if things start caving in. And even if it doesn't, the confined quarters will be tricky to work through with all of us. So be careful and choose your targets."

"A valid point," Mitsuru told them, securing her gloves and straightening her sword belts. Minato's eye stopped on the curve of her hip and how her scabbard rested against it. Imagining how soft the skin under it was. And other soft parts of her. Then he shook his head sharply. Now wasn't the time to think about the other day, no matter how tempting the memory was. Or how he could still smell her when he was alone. Or that those shivers were half the reason he hadn't gotten any sleep.

To get his mind off the temptation, he glanced at the others, noting how Fuuka was setting up near the wall surrounding the building, tying her bandana around her neck and checking the streets for movement and safe hiding places. That made sense. If they failed or let any Shadows past them, she'd be on her own. Then he looked over at the last female on the team, and she was stretching in place and looking at the place before looking away. The odd thing was, when she glanced at him and their eyes met, she blushed even more and looked away from him. Strange. She'd done the same thing on the archery range the other day. "You alright, Yukari?"

"I… yeah, I'll be fine. This place just… never mind. Let's just get it over with."

He was about to ask more when Akihiko-senpai announced that it was time to rock. "Good luck. And be careful," Fuuka told them, summoning her Persona and speaking to each of them in turn to establish her connection.

He nodded to her and the others, nodding to the front door. "Let's do it."

Getting through the entrance hall was simple. The door was hanging on its hinges and nothing looked like it had been tended to in years. There also weren't any coffins as they progressed. No occupants. One less thing to worry about.

But the ease of the operation was lost when they got past the first corridor. Somehow, though there was proof that no one was here, the scent of jasmine and oily, acrid perfumes hung in the air like a haze. It rolled over them the moment they opened the door to the interior, and the combination made Minato's eyes sting. Akihiko-senpai waved his hand in front of his face and started breathing shallowly while Mitsuru-senpai held a handkerchief to her nose, muttering in French. Junpei and Yukari were coughing , trying to clear their lungs. "Seems like someone's here," Minato observed, hand to his face to ward off the scent even though speaking brought the taste into his mouth, enough to make him gag. "That or the Shadows got a fashion advisor who doesn't believe in bathing," he continued through short, sharp coughs. The smell was getting worse.

"Is it nearby?" Yukari asked, wiping at her eyes. "This can't be good for us. Not for the whole hour."

Minato checked the corners of the corridor they were in, then focused to gain his bearings. When his shoulder touched the wall, though, his spine shot stiff. He broke out in a cold sweat and barely breathed, listening closely.

There is was. Past the nauseating smell and the noise of the others, the cold, brittle words that he couldn't understand. When he took a few steps toward the source, it just got worse. The chattering. The hissing. Low, dry, like a thousand beetles with knives on their legs crawling up his spine and along his eardrums. Even after the last battle, it still sent him into shivers. "This way," he told the others. Then bit his tongue. He hadn't meant to say that, and if they suspected that he–

"Yeah, Fuuka agrees," Akihiko-senpai told him from behind, breaking his worried thoughts. "On the next block or two of rooms. Seems pretty close to the entrance. Strange place to be if it wanted to hide."

"Maybe it doesn't," Junpei pointed out, sweat and tears dripping on his face from the smell. "Maybe it's an ambush and it wasn't expecting Fuuka to find it."

"That's an odd place for an ambush," Yukari commented between grimaces. Despite her coughs, she was looking pale. "Seems like it's pretty out of the way. If it wanted to attack us, why not set up closer to the main areas?"

"Who knows," Minato told them, drawing his sword and Evoker. "You're probably right though, that this can't be good for us. Let's kill this thing and get out of here before it starts messing with us even more."

He led them down the halls, focusing on the noise in his brain to keep the smell down. But it seemed to lighten up the worse the noise got. He looked to the others and noticed that their reactions were lessened as well, and suspicion began to grow. "Be careful," Akihiko-senpai growled, hand on his Evoker as they gathered outside the door Fuuka mentioned. "Something's not right about this."

"Agreed. Play this one by the numbers." Minato looked to the others, nodded, then slammed his shoulder into the door, rushing through and raising his Evoker the moment he felt the Shadow's presence. His gunshot was the first of many as the others unleashed their powers all at once, trying to get the fight done as fast and efficiently as possible.

But that was the problem – it was over far too soon. Between their concerted efforts and hours of training together, the Shadow could only mount a cursory defense. They'd split into two teams and hammered at it from one side, then the other group attacked when it turned to face its attackers. Soon, it burst like a ruptured pustule and died in a gargling hiss. When its death throes calmed and it lay twitching like a blasted mound of raw, oily meat, the mirror at the back of the room hummed.

That's when they knew something was wrong. The Dark Hour distorted, wavering and wobbling under them like the cement foundation had turned to water. An alien pressure hit like a hard, fierce current, knocking Yukari and Junpei from their feet. And the scent of jasmine and violets and cheap perfume washed over them like a tide, leaving them drowning. Minato swore sharply, covering his nose as his vision dimmed. A trap, just like on the train. An ambush. He saw the others fighting against it, shouting something. He couldn't hear a word. No voices or chattering. The scent got even heavier, thick tobacco and sex now mixed in, coating his lungs, so heavy his tongue burned and teeth ached and breathing was painful.

His feet rolled under him, and his knees buckled, bringing him to the carpet. He tried to work against it, to push himself up, to fight, but his fingers were nerveless. His chin drooped into his chest. And the scent became strong enough to hold him in place. But it didn't, letting him fall like a spiteful lover.

The darkness in his vision swarmed to the centre. Everything went black. And he heard and saw nothing else.


A bed. Pillows, sheets, a soft mattress. The room. Water splashing in the shower. It came to him in slow, groggy realizations. He stared at the ceiling for minutes on end before he thought to get up, sitting on the bed with jasmine and perfume in his head. He blinked, and his eyes felt gritty, sandy no matter how much he rubbed at them. Then he checked his gear. Because he should check his gear. In case he needed it. His sword was on his belt, twisting awkwardly at his side. And his Evoker was holstered, polished metal grip shining in the strange, wavy light.

Touching his Evoker, making sure it was real, made him realize what wasn't there: his Personas. Not a sound or a slither, not so much as a peep from the inhabitants of his soul. Which was good. It meant no more pain or problems. Unless he needed them. Did he need them? Why would he? What was he doing again?

The other thing he saw as he rose to his feet, unsteady and groggy, was the silhouette in profile against the shower door. Feminine, slender limbs, and obviously naked. He tried to feel ashamed, embarrassed, but none of the feelings came. Just warmth and anticipation. His fingers itched when he looked at the door handle. But should he? That was his team mate, it had to be, and…

~Go on. Don't you want to? Let go of your restraint. What good is it? Does it feel better to deny yourself? You do, you know. You deny yourself so much.~

Those words ran up and down his vertebrae, sending him into shivers and chills. But… no, if that were her, then she wouldn't have anything to do with him. They were comrades and allies, perhaps friends, but nothing more.

~Are you so sure about that?~

The room swam around him, and he stumbled forward, barely catching himself before his sword jabbed him in the ribs. But his feet hit concrete, not carpet. He looked into the darkness, then heard footsteps approaching. Three pairs, and the world shifted into view.

The train station? What am I… What's going on?

Yukari and Junpei limped toward him. No, that wasn't right. He'd been next to them, making sure they– There he was. He was approaching himself, covered in Shadow guts and burn marks and bruises. Their first Shadow operation. It all came back to him. But if that was him, then who was he?

Strong. I knew he would be. The words echoed in his head, filling it like rich wine, and it wasn't his voice. Low, husky, familiar and one of a kind. Mitsuru-senpai. Were these her thoughts? Brave and skilled too. Takeba and Iori did fine, but Arisato was the real hero. Very… intriguing. I'll have to watch him. More than interest, desire and the need to know more ran in his veins, a primal attraction that couldn't be denied, deep-seated and coaxed out with her intellect.

No… This isn't right. It's not her.

~Are you sure? What's wrong with such strong attraction? You're young, she's interested, there's nothing in your way now.~

More visions passed. Glances of him in the dorm, in Tartarus, at school. Keeping him nearby on the Student Council. Always interested, always assessing when he wasn't looking. Every day it was deeper, stronger, and the weight of it dragged his head down, so potent that his vision swam in the sensations. Strong enough to make him sick. Stronger than anything he'd felt before.

That's… That's not… How do you know this? Who are you?

There was a presence, on the edge of sensation, almost enough to feel, but his mind went sluggish when he reached out. No, it didn't matter. But she… Mitsuru-senpai…

The world shifted again, and he saw himself in the fencing ring, held still and beaten, knife to his throat. But his mind echoed with her thoughts again. Mmm, he's strong. Wiry, fit, fast. Not like the others. Smart and sexy too. Especially that hair and those eyes. Her attraction, heady and intoxicating, hitting him so hard he almost fell over. He felt her quickened pulse, the layers of her clothes and how they hugged her and rubbed her, every scent and sensation. Her arousal that sent him into a spiral.

It was becoming too much.

He shuddered at the memory, the heat against his back, the softness, her breath and scent as real as life and twice as sharp. And he looked at the silhouette in the door again, resistance breaking as the visions faded into murky shadows. She was bigger than a normal Japanese girl. Not taller or wider, but fuller. She had dimensions that could rouse a dead man, curves that were a sin. From her fine, pale neck and those gorgeous red tumbles of hair, a colour he'd never seen from anyone else. Her chest, more substantial than the other girls he'd looked at, and yet she couldn't be any other way. Firm, soft, and so very her. Down, down to her waist and hips and around to her back. Supple and svelte, never thin. Just the thought made his fingers itch, his palms burn for the touch of her skin. And further down still, into those stunning legs, always covered in skirts and boots. The urge to touch grew painful. Just thinking of her began to hurt, a name that sang through muscle and tendon.

Her biker gear and fencing uniform did her an undeniable justice, and her uniform always mixed authoritative and sexy at once, but what would she look like just wearing her skin?

He could find out. No need for wondering when the answers were within reach.

Why was he waiting? She was right there, getting ready. She'd be out soon. He'd have his chance. And she liked him too, right? She wouldn't have disarmed him in fencing that way, held against him like a lover, if she didn't. She'd been watching him all this time. And what good did waiting do him? Or holding back?

The shower had to come to an end soon. She'd been in there for a good long while. And when she came out? Should he do it?

Why should he not?

He shuddered one last time, his walls falling at last. Why had he fought this in the first place? It was what he wanted. What they both wanted. So there was nothing wrong with it.

~There you go. There's no need to struggle.~

He leaned against the wall to collect himself, his palms sticking to the surface from the heavy air and his own sweat. He headed towards the door, anticipation rising as his excuses died off, one by one. A few steps forward, then a few more. The shower became loud in his ears, the impact of the water hitting her body then draining away soothing in its steady stream, invigorating in its promises. There she was. Her silhouette hazy against the glass, but he could still make it out. Strange lighting. You'd think the bulbs would be between the door and the shower, not at the back of the room. The closer he got, the clearer the image became. He let out a heavy breath, releasing his concerns as he took another step.

His eyes locked on her shoulder. And his feet froze into place.

With a moment of lucidity, he scrabbled and scraped for control and took in what was before him. Not what he thought was there, or what he was told would be, but what actually was. He looked to the silhouette's back, then head, then far shoulder, what little he could see of it. A missing detail wasn't there. And he dug his too-long nails into the flesh of his palm as hard as he could. The pain was enough to give him some focus, so he bit the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood.

~What is it? Are you scared again?~

The voice wasn't in his head this time, but coming from the room. Minato opened his jaw enough to break out in a snarl, turning to the full-body mirror across the room.

And the distorted reflection of himself that greeted him. The image was warped, and stayed the same size as he walked toward it, shaking off the drugging effects of a moment before. Replaced with raw fury. While he felt murder rising in his chest, the reflection maintained a lopsided smirk. The thought of it laughing at him twisted the anger in him like a coil, over-torqued and ready to snap. That it got so many things about him wrong only pissed him off more. The thing's clothes were pristine, but the skin was sallow and waxy, and while the hair was a perfect match to one of Minato's better days, its eyes were sickly with bags under them and ruptured veins under the surface. It was like putting clothes and a wig on a corpse and parading it around on puppet strings.

"That's not Mitsuru-senpai," he told the reflection, voice laced with a wrath that came from his very core. Of course. What else could have stifled his Personas when he himself couldn't do it? He was angry at being duped, but he was furious with himself for being so careless. "Her hair's longer than that. You got it completely wrong."

~And why is that a bad thing? This is what you wanted. Who it is with should be immaterial.~

It was barely a voice now. The rapid chattering and clacking like beetles in his brain returned, much stronger than before. A second Shadow, like when they'd gone to rescue Fuuka. Only the first one was bait for the trap, and the menace he felt from the mirror amplified.

This thing had to die. He needed his weapons. He turned the anger inward and screamed inside his own head, calling far into that sea of his subconscious.

He called his Personas, as many as he could, and his body erupted in pained tingles and twisted nerves. They responded. They raged. And the mental maelstrom focused his anger on a set target. His reflection broke into a crooked, mocking smile that he knew he wasn't wearing, and the fury intensified. The pain tripled. And his mind cleared.

"If you have to ask that question, then you wouldn't understand the answer."

His left hand, almost bleeding from the pressure he was putting on it, lashed out at the mirror. And it shattered, bowing and cracking and bending at the frames like struck with a colossal fist, filling the room with the sound of broken glass and drywall.

"I'm coming for you. And I hope there's more to you than cheap tricks, because they won't work this time."

There was no response from the mirror, and the chattering grew distant, retreating from the room.

Minato snorted. Coward.

He turned, steadying his feet as he fought with the migraine born from the Shadow's visions and all his Personas waking up at once. It was enough to make him stagger back toward the bathroom. The shower was still running, so maybe he could wash his face. Some cold water would go perfectly now.

Before he got to the door, however, it flew open. And two wild eyes stared at him from a room filled with steam.

He stopped in place, taking in a lot of skin and leg and… pink. "Yukari?"

"Coming for me? What do you mean? What just happened?"

He could barely process her questions before he asked one of his own. "Why are you taking a shower?"

She darted forward and slapped him. Hard. Enough to snap his head to the side and send the world rushing by, which didn't help his throbbing cranium in the least. Then the door slammed as she bolted back inside. There was rustling and some frantic movements behind the glass, and she emerged in a matter of seconds, full dressed and armed and looking ready to kill.

Why was she looking at him like that? And why couldn't she move that fast at the dorm? "Let's just go," she snapped, marching for the door.

Minato tried to ignore his badly bruised palm and throbbing skull, and kept silent as they left the room and focused on finding the others and the Shadow. Whatever it had shown him was an illusion, painful and raw as the thought was, so he was determined to finish the job and get back to the dorm so he could sleep it all off. That was what he wanted. That was what he told her.

Regardless of how he said it and how many times, however, she remained unconvinced. When she wasn't discretely tugging her clothes back into place, now wet from being frantically pulled back on, she was staring at him suspiciously. He stayed on his side of the hallway, claiming it was to leave her with a clear field of fire if something jumped around the corner. It didn't matter though. If that happened, he'd have to cover her. That was the strategy, regardless of how she felt. And how she felt was still an issue, because she was glaring at him like he'd been the one to strip her and point her to the shower, and smacked her ass on the way in.

"It's not how it seems. I wasn't talking to you," he told her again, trying to sound more sincere than usual, which wasn't easy, while checking the corners.

She was less than convinced. "Then who were you talking to if it wasn't to me? You weren't fighting, and our senpai weren't here, right?"

He sighed, motioning for her to lower her voice for the third time before giving her a cutting stare. "I'm not the only one at fault here, you know. We're in the middle of the Dark Hour, here to kill a massive Shadow, so why were you taking a shower? I thought you had one before we left."

Now she turned a rather fetching shade of red that had nothing to do with the hot water. "Th–that's not important! I thought you were talking to me, and then you were right at the door when I came out! So what's the deal?"

Minato massaged his temples, trying to gain some relief. To no avail. "You answer my question, I'll answer yours. Talking to an empty room's less incriminating than deciding the try out the house soaps and shampoos."

She held her hands up in denial. "I– That's not– it wasn't like that!"

"Right. Same as my being near the door when you came out. It wasn't like that."

"That's different," she insisted.

He snorted, his temper fraying down to a thread. "If you say so."

"And you can cut the sarcasm any time, too," she growled. "None of this is funny."

"You don't see me laughing, do you? And I'll talk seriously when you calm the hell down." She drew back from a retort, but he pinned her to the wall with a hardened, pain-fuelled glare. "Drop it. It's not important. What matters isn't your pride or my motives. Finding the others is our first priority. Because if that thing had us fooled this badly, then the others could be in trouble. And that matters more than me or you." He kept up the glare until she bit her lip and nodded back, glaring back a little. "Good. Then let's get going."

They continued down the corridor, still on their respective sides, but not as stiff and suspicious as before. They hadn't gone far when they heard a scream of agony, shrill like nothing human vocals could produce, and the heavy scent of burnt tar and stagnant sewage water. Minato never knew why Shadows smelled that way, but the scent was another layer of agony on his senses. He held his sabre at the ready and heard Yukari nock an arrow. The hallway, what they could see of it, sported slashes on the halls and long burn marks that, when Minato reached out, were hot to the touch. They continued down the corridor and heard vicious swearing and laboured breathing.

When they turned the corner, Junpei's eyes snapped up to theirs, sword at the ready and armour torn in four places. There was a thin red trickle behind him, leading down the hall. And his dark-blue shirt was a wet purple now. Minato met his gaze calmly and reached for some spare bandages, taking in the scent of blood that was almost stronger than the perfume in the halls, but Junpei looked away with a grimace. "You an' Yuka-tan, huh?"

Minato's hands froze on the emergency supplies, but Yukari either didn't hear Junpei or didn't care about his gripes, and moved forward with her Evoker to stop the bleeding. A gunshot and a supernatural glow later, Junpei gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet. His face was pale and he was puffing noticeably, sweat streaking his face, but his sword and Evoker were steady. "Thought I heard the others down the hall, but it was a trap. Damn things got the drop on me. Where the hell've you two been?"

Yukari blushed and looked away, but Minato took a guarded glance around, making sure Junpei wasn't bait for another ambush, before answering. "The Shadow's playing with our minds. Or at least it was with us. Did anything like that happen to you?"

"Not really," was the reply as he steadied himself and held onto the wall. "Just woke up in the kitchen with a Shadow that got to the knife drawer before I did."

Minato winced. That would explain the blood. And being stuck in tight quarters would have been difficult for him, let alone Junpei and his over-sized sword. "That's rough. I'm impressed you made it this far."

Junpei snorted, not looking at either of them. "Impressed? Why, think I couldn't handle it?"

Minato's migraine was getting worse. And healing from his Personas wouldn't help. It never did. "That's not what I meant. It couldn't have been easy getting this far on your own."

"Yeah, right. So you and Yuka-tan ended up together, huh? Anything else?"

He tried keeping his voice steady and low. "What are you talking about, Junpei?"

Junpei pointed back the way they came from. "I'm pretty sure there's just bedrooms back that way. What happened?"

"Are you serious?!" Yukari demanded, scarlet in the low light with indignation and embarrassment clear on her face.

Minato's eyes narrowed. First Yukari, now Junpei. He didn't need this. He really didn't need this. "I'm not discussing this right now. Get it together and let's go."

He didn't take the hint. Junpei jutted his chin out and demanded "Oh yeah? Why? C'mon and tell me if it's no big deal."

That last thread snapped. He took two steps forward, almost against Junpei's face. "We woke up in a room with mirrors on the walls and a closet full of sex toys, and thanks for asking! The Shadow was in there with us, so it tried to screw us both when we came to!" He let the words hang between them for a moment, ignoring Yukari's wide eyes and nuclear blush. "And there was a pommel horse in the corner with clamps and lubricant right next to it! Is that good enough?!"

Junpei's anger died off, burnt out by his blush and awkwardness from such a frank answer. "I… Yeah. You didn't have to take it so personally, you know."

Minato pulled back in anger and disgust, the throbbing even worse. "If you don't like how I put it, then you can lose the attitude. Let's find our senpai and finish this before the Shadow collapses the building on us."

"Is there a problem?" The three turned to see Akihiko-senpai and Mitsuru-senpai approaching, both looking concerned but unharmed, and cleaner than their kouhai. Except for Yukari, maybe.

"I thought I heard arguing," Mitsuru-senpai told them, sword and Evoker at the ready. In spite of his anger, regardless of how much pain he was in, the combination reminded Minato of the memories and illusions, and he bit his tongue to keep his blush down. "You've chosen an odd place for it, if that's the case."

"Just clearing the air, Senpai," Minato replied, trying to save some face. "I'm glad you're safe."

"Same here," Akihiko-senpai told them, resting a fist on his belt. "Fuuka contacted us. She knows which area the Shadow's in, but can't pinpoint it."

"Then let's finish this and go home," Minato told them.

"Are you sure? Is everything alright here?" Mitsuru-senpai looked at them, particularly Junpei.

Minato nodded. "As good as it can be."

Akihiko-senpai looked between them, skepticism obvious on his face, but then he shrugged. "Alright, if you say so. Let's get to it, then."

The three kouhai followed their senpai, carefully watching the corners and fighting off Shadows when they crashed out of rooms. Minato was content to let them do the fighting and save his energy, and Yukari nudged up next to him and whispered "Thanks. For not saying anything," when Junpei and their senpai were checking an especially luxurious room.

At least she was whispering. It kept the pulses in his skull down. "No problem. It didn't concern them, and it was the Shadow's fault."

"Still. Thanks. And I'm sorry I hit you. You look like you're in a lot of pain."

Minato tried not to think about it, but he was glad that the Shadows hadn't gone easy on them. The bruises and burns all across his body hid the telltale mark of Yukari's hand on his cheek. Confused or not, separated or together, the others would have wondered about that. As it was, they had no reason to ask, sparing them both some embarrassing questions. Then the door opened as the others came out, disgust obvious on their faces. "This is taking too long." Akihiko-senpai growled. "Where did it go?"

"Any idea what happens to one of these things when the Dark Hour ends?" Minato asked, looking down the hall to the to the doors they hadn't tried yet.

"Maybe it stays here. Maybe it disappears. But if we fight it when people can see and hear us, it's going to make things a lot harder. So let's make this fast," was the boxer's response.

They searched four more rooms with similar results, Fuuka's directions getting more vague as frustration and doubt laced her voice. The tension grew, and Minato's head throbbed with the Shadow's constant chattering. He'd tried to listen for places where the noise was strongest, but the Shadow must have anticipated that, because it was uniform no matter where they went.

They'd checked most of the bedrooms, and were heading to the last one, an inconspicuous one in the corner, when Minato stopped in place, so fast that Junpei walked into him from behind. "Wha– dude, what's your problem? Why'd you stop?"

The words and impact did nothing for his headache, but he stared at a door so inconspicuous that they could have passed a dozen others like it without a second thought. It was simple, plain, and looked like it led to a broom closet or a storage room. There was no logical reason to investigate it when Fuuka was still looking for their target. But his instincts were whispering, and he couldn't help but listen.

"Minato-kun?" Yukari asked, calling for their senpai to stop. "What's wrong?"

He reached out to test the handle. The moment his fingers touched the worn plastic, the chattering stopped and retreated again, dying down to whispers that echoed from past the door. And a very familiar feeling brushed against his face. "The Shadow on the train was waiting for us," he explained quietly, staring at the cheap laminate surface and fake wood in front of him. "Same as the last two. They wanted Fuuka, so they kept us off-balance. This one's a coward that hides behind illusions and lies. It used the other Shadow as bait so it wouldn't have to face us. What better place to hole up than in a room nobody would think to look in?"

"Shadows are huge," Junpei pointed out. "At least these ones are. And that door's what they put on linen closets. How would it fit in there?"

Minato ignored him and pulled out his Evoker, twisting the handle and peering through as he cracked the door open.

The door snapped open, pushed by the wave of power only a Shadow could radiate. He jumped back, ready for anything, and gritted his teeth when the chattering in his brain returned. More than just the power was the sickening jumble of scents from before. It bowled over him and flowed into the hallway like a river, driving grunts and disgusted cries from the others. Minato pulled his Evoker free and covered his mouth and nose with a spare kerchief, forcing his eyes to adjust to the gloom within.

What lay beyond wasn't a linen closet or shelves lined with cleaners. But a wide, luxurious room with gaudy pink plush carpeting, mirrors on the ceiling and every wall, and absolutely atrocious striped drapes and cushions surrounding the couches and divans scattered about. Minato cringed at the visual mayhem. It was designed for groups or specific events, and clearly 'privacy' was left at the door. One could see every corner of the room from anywhere else, and he focused on keeping those implications from his mind. All the mirrors, however, were directed toward the huge four-poster bed in the middle of the room.

And sitting in the middle of that bed, steeping in its own power as the haze cleared, was their target. Jiggling and rocking like a mutated bowl of Jell-O, the heart symbol quivering and cracked at the sides, and the expressionless mannequin's mask that stared at him from on high. A mask that felt like it was laughing the moment he saw it.

The others pushed in and Mitsuru-senpai immediately gave them orders. Minato didn't notice. His hands were shaking, rattling his Evoker, as he felt the Shadow's mind brush against his own. And there was no question now – it really was laughing at him.

~Ahh, so you found her. What was she doing, by chance?~

Never mind running hot, Minato's blood cooked him from the inside. It was hitting the evaporation point. The grip of his Evoker bit into his hand, Personas screaming in his brain as he envisioned his prey ripped to pieces, a storm of power stewing and swirling under the surface. The migraine grew worse, but his teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw hurt. And the chattering returned, pulsing and rising and falling like the cadence of laughter.

~You know, don't you? About her and the other one. So much time together. So many opportunities. Who would pass up such a chance? Perhaps a shower was involved. They even had a bed, you know.~

"Laugh this one off," he grated, burning with a rage so hot he expected to combust. His Personas were clawing at his skin, demanding their release. They agreed with him, with the thought screaming in his head, over and over, so loud he couldn't hear anything else. They wanted to make it happen as much as he did.

He didn't bother with style. Looking cool could wait.

He brought his Evoker straight up to his temple. Then pulled the trigger.

And ripped the room apart.


"Could have gone worse," Akihiko-senpai muttered as they made their way out the front entrance, going slowly so Minato, draped over his shoulder, didn't puke all over him. As it was, it took all his passenger's effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The fight with the Shadow had gone well, in the sense that they were the ones still standing in the end. But it couldn't, by any standards, have been called smooth. Not with Minato tearing the room apart in the opening salvo and quivering with rage the entire fight, not even bothering to draw his sword. Junpei had been reckless, charging the Shadow from the same side over and over and disregarding the others. Only Yukari and their senpai had kept cool heads through the engagement, and that was probably because they felt it was better to eliminate the threat quickly and deal with stupidity later than risk injury or death against a Shadow of that size.

"All's well that ends well, right?" Fuuka put in as she met them, handing them some cold water bottles and dabbing at her face. Her bandana was soaked and there were sweat streaks on her forehead and cheeks and hands. Fighting against the Shadow's illusions couldn't have been easy, but she'd had to keep track of all five of them on top of that. No wonder she looked like she'd gone swimming in her clothes.

Minato pulled his arm back as they stopped, wiping his face and downing half a bottle of water along with some pain killers he'd brought along on a whim. That much cold water in a hot body, still coming off an adrenaline rush, wasn't good for him. He knew it, like every other athletic student on campus. He just didn't care. It was better than his head exploding, or decorating the sidewalk with his dinner, snacks and lunch. He leaned against the building walls, content to rest his face against dirt and grime until the world steadied.

"How badly are you hurt, Minato-kun?" Fuuka asked, resting a solicitous hand on his arm. He would have smiled if he wasn't sure the act would have shattered his face like that mirror in the room. Her gesture was touching, but if he fell over, the best she could do was get out of the way. Or break his fall to the pavement.

"I'll live," he replied in a raspy whisper, wincing at his own voice. "No injuries. Raw nerves and a killer migraine are the worst of it."

She winced, and he got the impression that her scanning wasn't as easy as she made it seem. He handed her the pill bottle, and she swallowed a few tablets after mulling it over. "Thanks. Those are still pretty bad though. Especially if you were fighting like that."

He just gave her the best smile he could, which felt like a grimace. So much for not letting her worry about him. "That's what the drugs are for."

"Well just don't push it," Yukari told him, eyeing him with concern. "You seemed like you were in rough shape before we found that thing. We don't need you breaking something important."

Like his mind. That would be bad. "I appreciate the concern."

There was a cold snort from further up the sidewalk. "So that's it, huh? So long as our leader's fine, then it'll all work out?"

Minato's eyes narrowed at Junpei's tone. He'd been brushing it off before to focus on the operation. But his brains felt like beef stew in a blender, and he was hardly in the mood to be made fun of. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

Dark eyes met his without flinching, and the brittle anger was obvious in them, cracking under the weight of something larger. Something worse."Pfft. What, me? Talk to the leader? No way man, I'm just the grunt."

Minato's Personas whirled through him at his comrade's tone, and he had to grit his teeth to keep them back and his stomach down. A month of work and stress paired with weeks of biting his tongue to keep the team operating smoothly snapped the chains on his temper. The choked-off anger rose like bile and brought all the words back, harsh as hot irons and acid.

They were lost a second later, when the world shuddered and shifted and settled back to its normal state. Traffic resumed around them, the streetlights flashed to life, and they all winced as their task was, for another night, complete.

"This isn't the place for arguments," Akihiko-senpai told them in a hard voice, taking the opportunity and stepping between them with a glare. "Tonight might not have gone perfectly, but we managed. The situation changed, and we dealt with it. Let's call it a night while we can still walk."

"Is this something we can leave alone?" Minato asked, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Junpei snapped.

Minato sighed before pushing himself off the wall and meeting the angry glare with a pained stare. "I mean that attitude of yours. Not just tonight, but for the last few weeks. You're fighting on your own, not working with us, and getting reckless. What we need is to work together, not in spite of each other, and I don't want to see you get hurt. So if you have a problem with something, with me, then let's hear it."

Junpei's face turned dark, but his retort was cut off by the others. None said a word, but none needed to. The calm gaze of their senpai, Yukari's inquisitive look that said 'I don't disagree,' and Fuuka trying to look elsewhere, but obviously sharing the general sentiment. His eyes narrowed and he shouldered his sword, but some of the fight had left him. "Whatever. Just mind your own business," he growled before turning around and heading down the street to their pickup point.

"We'll have to deal with that before too long," Minato murmured, leaning on his sword for support. "We can't afford a schism right now."

"I concur," Mitsuru-senpai responded, a troubled look on her clean, flawless face. "But there's nothing we can do about it right now. Are you sure you're alright?"

"No," Minato told her honestly. "I feel like I want to die in a corner, and there's two of everything. But it can't be helped right now."

She looked concerned and approached until he held up a hand to stop her. "Then let's go back," she told him, turning to the others. "We won't get anywhere making decisions when we can barely stand. Debriefing can wait until tomorrow – your first priority is to try to get some rest."

"I second that," Yukari said with a groan and a sideways glance at Minato. She blushed a bit before walking forward with Fuuka. "Will you be okay, Minato-kun?"

"Yeah. I just need a few minutes to let the drugs settle."

Yukari and Fuuka left first, talking about something the latter had found. Minato watched them go, curious about what could garner such a swift reaction so soon after the operation. Considering how close they were walking, it must have been important. Or personal. Probably both. Mitsuru-senpai was next, talking into her cell phone in a hushed tone, and shooting him concerned looks over her shoulder. Minato couldn't help the red that rose to his cheeks as he watched her go. Had the Shadow's visions been illusions and lies? He didn't have a reason to believe that she felt that way about him. It was far more likely that the Shadow had just latched onto a vulnerable part of his mind. He'd told Fuuka that she reminded him of Minako, after all, and Yukari was… well, the idea of hooking up with her felt like navigating a minefield with a blindfold and a spare shoe. They worked fine together, and she was a friend, but he couldn't see them clicking. No vulnerability with those two – no weak links in the chain.

Mitsuru-senpai was different. No matter how much he justified it or how hard he beat his feelings with the rationale that the Shadow was showing him lies, they refused to stay down. Even if he resisted the idea that what he'd seen was true, it still left room for doubt. For curiosity. Lies or not, they raised questions.

How did she feel about him? Where did he stand with Kirijo Mitsuru?

"Hey," Akihiko-senpai asked, walking over to take a closer look at his face. "Will you need a hand getting to the car? You look like death warmed over."

Minato's migraine throbbed as a new thought, one he'd been putting off while they were fighting, crawled and wormed its way to his attention: What had Mitsuru-senpai and Akihiko-senpai been doing while the rest of them were distracted? Had there been illusions for them as well? They were strong with their Personas, so would that have made a difference? The two were clearly friends, and had been for years, so maybe there was less to show them, and less room for deception. But were they just friends? If so, where did that put him? He was just the transfer student, the anomaly. Did he have the right to interfere with such a relationship if it existed? Akihiko-senpai's answers the other day had been evasive, and Minato had no idea how to raise the topic with Mitsuru-senpai.

He brushed the questions aside for now, but he knew they'd be back. He turned to his comrade and nodded once. "Thanks for the concern, Akihiko-senpai. I'll be alright once I have a few minutes to take it easy."

"If you say so. We'll be waiting, so don't take too long." Akihiko-senpai gave him a wave before following the others, his steps balanced and quiet in the night.

Minato watched him go for several minutes before giving a sigh. Mitsuru-senpai was right; whatever other concerns there were, they could wait until morning. After a good breakfast and a nice, long shower before Yukari woke up. He trudged forward, stepping carefully so he didn't trip.

He had barely gone six steps when it hit.

His spine snapped taut and his breath hissed through his teeth, so fast his nausea hit again. But he ignored it, looking around sharply with a hand on his sword. Left, then right. Up, and down, and along the street, and down the nearby alley and past the closed storefronts. Nothing.

He waited, still alert as the feeling passed. A fat black-and-tan cat walked along the road nearby, looking at him with black eyes before moving on disinterestedly. He looked around again, not seeing anything. But the unease remained in the pit of his stomach, a chill up his spine and cold knife-points across his heated skin. It was the same feeling that had been trained into him during his kendo and fencing lessons. His Personas made it stronger, and he knew not to ignore his instincts. When nothing appeared, he headed down the street, hand close to his hilt. He didn't let the tense breath out until he was in the Kirijo car and on the way back to the dorm. And then he stared out the window and watched the dark rooftops for anything out of the ordinary.

Even through the Dark Hour and feeling like a cat in a washing machine on the spin cycle, he knew when he was being watched.


"Hm. Gotta give him credit; he's pretty sharp. Sanada and Kirijo I'd expect, but Arisato's proving to be an interesting guy."

"Did you feel it as well?" There was a shiver in the lower voice that wouldn't have been out of place in a funeral home where the workers had an unhealthy enthusiasm for their jobs. A grim but pronounced thrill so chilling that it could have scared the crows away from a battlefield.

There had been a split second of power in the hotel, a spike that rippled through the Dark Hour. Too brief to identify, but too strong to miss. Then there was the tempest of power only ten minutes before, a raging hurricane of unbridled energy that had left their ears ringing. But the two were different. Distinct. And that dissimilarity wasn't lost on Shirato Jin. "Yeah. Not sure what I'd call it, but I'll look for a precedent. Regarding how to deal with them, I think our first target should be Yamagishi. The Kirijo files don't mention a detector at her level, or anywhere close to it. If she dies, they're screwed."

When his comrade didn't respond, he went down the list of the others, citing their strengths and weaknesses and what he'd learned of them.

Jin didn't understand though. They weren't the important ones. Strong, perhaps. Formidable, maybe. But not important. Only one among them held that accolade.

Takaya's mind was breaking off the rust of months of contract killings and dull routine, awakening with a new vigor that hadn't been there for years. Like a poet in the thrall of Melpomene, alive with divine inspiration. And it was because of him. A new piece on the board, an unknown variable in the equation, this Arisato showed far more promise than anyone he'd seen or heard of. Who was he? What was he? First Hypnos, now Moros, wary as Jin was to admit to such things. It was a rousing little mystery. Since when did Personas react to each other? Aragaki had mentioned it before, how his and Sanada's powers seemed to synch well. But among strangers? He doubted even the Kirijo could explain that.

So many unanswered questions. So many possibilities. Just the memory of that power spike sent a pleasure through him intense enough to make him shudder.

Jin tried to bring him back to the practical side of their observations. "We could get the drop on them now. No one's more vulnerable than when they think they've won." There was no need to answer. Was it possible for the others to understand his importance? Could it even be communicated in words? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He focused and tried to see Arisato again, but he was gone. "Or should we leave them alone?"

"Yes."

Takaya felt Jin's surprise. The delight of the possibilities, of Hypnos' whispers, brought every muscle and cell alive. Decay from the Dark Hour still in his nose, the promise of the hunt, the thrill, the inertia of events heavy against him like bags filled with blood… It was almost too much to take. His arms prickled in comforting agony, tattoos igniting and shifting across naked nerves, warm with a jagged pain that honed the mind.

A dead voice rattling in its coffin, an echo grating within an ancient tomb. Unholy light in his eyes that burned brighter than the full moon above them.

"Leave them. No game of chess can be won without pawns. And this is becoming a very interesting match."

Author's Note, Post Script: And that's that. We're off to Yakushima next chapter, so stay tuned. Don't forget to show the 'Review' button some love. Finally, is anyone seeing a pattern with the chapter titles?