Days, weeks, months – how long has it been since he was no longer one in his own mind?

It made no difference to Susumu Kamiyama. Time lost its meaning inside of Nyarlathotep's dwellings. The same could be said of the forces that held the coherence of the physical world. Gravity, magnetism, heat, sound – all meaningless. Even the constructs which human kind clung to in order to comprehend its existence were without importance, here in the Crawling Chaos' twisted abode.

For a time, even Kamiyama's own sense of self was overshadowed by Nyarlathotep's will. He was practically ceasing to be, as his once 'Benefactor' asserted himself through the businessman. In the beginning, Kamiyama thought he had found the means to change the world for the better. Next thing he knew, he was but an instrument to the Dark Lord, only realising it through violent lapses of awareness.

Susumu Kamiyama was surely doomed… but the young man at the crux of Nyarlathotep's plan, and his friends had changed that somehow.

Nyarlathotep still inhabited his body, but somewhere in the deep black beneath the flesh, the businessman idealist remained his own self. His thoughts, memories and drives were again his own, powerless as they were. He knew Nyarlathotep's plans, his assets and limitations. And no matter how he looked at it, the picture was bleak. From the cold, analytical viewpoint of business-running, the Dark Lord had won already – it would be a simple matter of time for that loathsome victory to be evident.

But Kamiyama knew time no longer meant a thing in this world. And neither did the plain logic of cause, consequence, and probability. The Phantom Thieves would return to these domains; and when they did, Kamiyama would be ready to lend a hand, however he could.

He could not afford to waste a single moment.

His efforts in the infinite black expanse of chaos could best be described as 'meditating'. What he sought was not something he could grasp in a physical sense, but it was not alien at all. In fact, it was very much part of himself, despite the circumstances.

At some point, he managed to make something out, translating the incomprehensible into something he could visualise inside of his head.

Then, he found himself a lone wanderer, hopelessly trekking across dunes in an endless desert. If he were to look up, he could either see a pitch black sky, or something so strange that his search would be irreparably halted. Thus, Susumu Kamiyama kept his gaze as far from the nocturne vault as possible. Eyes fixed on the sand, he continued to search for the colossus in ruins; the broken remains of what once had been great. Nothing could deter him from this quest.

However, other sensorial experiences soon followed on the heels of sight and touch. Susumu Kamiyama began to feel thirst, exhaustion, and the wear of cold and drought. Impossible sensations that nonetheless felt very real.

Days, weeks, months – how long has it been since Susumu Kamiyama embarked on the search for the fallen mighty one? With every inch his feet sunk into the sand, he felt himself closer to defeat. A familiar voice whispered on his ear, telling him that he would be a cadaver in the moment his strength gave in. And that ended up happening shortly after, with the sudden, harsh kiss of the desert on his face.

The businessman could make no sense of up or down. All he felt was his parched tongue, and the numbness of his limbs, which would strip him of all feeling if he stayed down a moment longer. But such terrifying sensations were nothing next to the despair that encroached on him.

[ ]

Izumi Sasahara's personal quest continued. Each day she obtained something for her understanding of the Masquerade. In most cases, it came from random bystanders with a few minutes to spare; but sometimes she happened to run into some familiar face. There was occasionally an air of detachment in the former, but the latter always had something to say. She could not help but notice that many Shujin alumni were especially involved.

It made sense since the first known 'stolen heart' belonged to Suguru Kamoshida. But it still struck her oddly that such outlandish phenomena had started in a high school. And even stranger was the wild possibility that the Phantom Thieves were actually Shujin students; it was a notion she always entertained but never dared to fully pursue. For once, the mystique was too appealing to peek behind the curtain.

Anyone could have been one of those uncanny Phantom Thieves, if that were true. For example, Ann Takamaki, who sat in a table nearby while Izumi enjoyed her lunch. This was a perfect opportunity for the journalist-in-training. So with the professionalism of her craft, and the decisiveness of an assassin, she swooped in smooth and without delay.

"Takamaki-san?"

The bored look in the model's face was dispelled instantly, leaving behind an air of vague recognition.

"Yes! Can I help you?"

"Possibly. I don't know if you remember me, but I also used to attend Shujin. I'm Izumi Sasahara."

"Sasahara… Oh, you were in the newspaper club!"

"That's right!"

"Yeah, I remember. Sorry it took me so long to recognise you. You were literally in front of me just now. I remember I tried to join the club once. I was turned down, but you were very tactful still."

"I'm sorry about that…"

"It's okay! I was kind of unsure of what I really wanted to do for extracurricular stuff, and it probably showed. But, Nevermind all that. How have you been?"

"Well…"

The conversation on Izumi's part felt like a ball of yarn being unmade. And all it took was Ann Takamaki gently pawing at the surface for the budding journalist to tell her whole story since graduating from Shujin. Ann was quite attentive, and showed genuine interest as opposed to the poorly-masked etiquette she was wearily used to. By the end of it, Izumi felt as if friendship had just blossomed between them, and she did not even realise how it happened. It was a rather scary notion.

"Takamaki-san… I mean, Ann. I apologise. I think I've taken up too much of your time already, but there's something I'd very much like to ask you."

"Sure thing. But take your time. I'm just here to meet up with a friend."

"Well, if you really don't mind, I'd like to ask your opinion about the Masquerade event about to happen."

"Oh! Well that was kind of unexpected. Is this for Uni, or…?"

"To tell you the truth, I did very briefly consider using this for one of my practices. But it doesn't feel right to me. The best way I can put this is… I wish to see how this develops. It just fascinates me. The people look so united over an event that's not accompanied by great sponsors or anything. It's not merchandise, or celebrities, at least not in the traditional sense. That's quite a rarity these days, you know. The Masquerade just feels… sincere, just like the Phantom Thieves."

"I think I understand what you mean." Ann looked slightly serious. "Well, I do happen to feel strongly about the Masquerade myself. You can write it down if you wanna." A friendly smile returned to her lips.

"It's okay. I'll record it in my head if it's necessary. Just… speak with your heart."

"Alright. I don't think the identity of the Phantom Thieves was ever actually released to the public, but that doesn't really matter. As far as I'm concerned, they could have been anybody. A relative, a friend, maybe even the stranger right next to you in the everyday commute. And that's because we all live knowing how wrong things can be. Injustice, abuse… those things have gone unpunished for so long, and nobody can do anything about it. Even now, I bet. But then one day, these people find a way to help everyone, to do away with this apathy and all, and they keep at it despite persecution. That's brave, but I honestly think anyone out there would have done the same if they could."

Ann took a sip of her drink.

"That's why I'm looking forward to the Masquerade. Nothing's actually being sold, and for all I know, it's just gonna be a couple of talent shows. But I feel like the heart of this event lies elsewhere. It's not just a tribute to the Phantom Thieves, but a tribute to what we all wish we could do."

"Which is?"

"Good things." Ann smiled bashfully. "Despite all, you know… how most people seemed content with just going with the flow, I do believe everyone wants to be good. Sure, many thank the Phantom Thieves… me included. But the real show is probably seeing Tokyo gathered in one place, knowing these are people who know right from wrong, despite legality and habit. That's very encouraging to me. Yes, we would all support the famous Phantom Thieves, but I think, given the chance, we would also support one another. There are still bad things out there. We cannot let up, Izumi."

Izumi took a moment to digest everything that Ann said. Some of it echoed the gratitude displayed by most people she has talked to. But no one else thought of reflecting the better aspects onto the attendees.

"Takamaki-san, I mean, Ann." Izumi began. "I never imagined you as an idealist. Not that it's a bad thing."

"I sure hope not. To be honest, I've wanted to get this off my chest for a while." This was not a lie. She tried to stay strong after the events of the last month. The stakes and Nyarlathotep's mind games had a way of eroding on her peace of mind. She could not imagine how it must be for the rest. Through it all, she desperately hoped they did not lose perspective.

"I can kinda tell… Um, Ann. I know I said I didn't want to use this for anything, but hearing you now, I really need to ask you. Would it be okay with you if I write about this?"

"Sure! Go ahead, and while you're at it…" Ann's eyes strayed towards some unseen place behind Izumi. "How about another input from a Shujin veteran?" She waved lively at her friend Makoto, who agreed to meet up after school to kill some time before seeing Yuuki Mishima later.

"Oh!" The budding journalist looked behind her. "Niijima-senpai!"

Makoto recognised her immediately.

"Sasahara-san! Good to see you. Have you been well?"

"Yes, very well in fact. Oh, I hope I'm not taking too much of your time, but could I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Makoto smiled awkwardly as she sat down.

"Did you and the transfer student get together?"

The former student council president said nothing, but there was a very audible cut in her breath. And to Ann's amusement, the young woman became flustered at the suddenness of the question.

"Um… yes." Makoto answered quietly.

"They're still together, by the way." Ann added.

"Lovely." Izumi moved past this little whim with a giggle. "Okay, now I need to ask you, as a journalist, what is your take on the upcoming Masquerade?"

Though the while spent was not very long, it was valuable. Ann and Makoto got an insightful look into the trajectory of the Phantom Thieves' gambit from the perspective of the public. Izumi got some food for thought and a very quotable input to help spread the word. The three also agreed to meet again someday soon after the event, which was something else to look forward to. Even contemplating small commitments helped their confidence before tackling on such gargantuan enemy as the master of chaos himself.

The two Phantom Thieves left for a restaurant in Chinatown, where they would meet up with the rest for perhaps one final chance to rest up before the date was on their doorstep. Along the way, Ann reflected on this brief interview with Izumi, and on a special few words the journalist-to-be said near the end. Perhaps she should consider a change of career. Being a spokesperson does not sound too bad a vocation.

[ ]

Despite the intended plan, not everyone showed up at the restaurant in time. Some arrived later, and some did not arrive at all. It made much sense to Akira Kurusu, seeing how quick and sudden this little outing was put together. Nonetheless, he was very grateful for being in the company of his closest friends. Boss and Sae's presence kept the thoughts of the foreboding inevitable at bay, and seeing Yuuki nodding off in his seat was more amusing than he would admit.

There was a quick toast with tea in the middle of the evening. And it rekindled the shared warmth among friends. Gulping it down, Akira allowed himself to be mirthful for once. He almost could see those he held dear through Nyarlathotep's tendrils in his view. Despite the bitter feeling of such dear sight being tainted by their foe, Akira committed this image to mind. He made it an indelible print, only for he to see.

The nightmare was at its end, regardless of the price it took. And he was willing enough to pay it in full.

Though he was adamant in his resolve to never let his friends know, he felt a cry within. The urge to call for help was unbearable, it burned and it bubbled uncontrollably. But the only thing that kept him set in his plan was knowing they would come with if they knew where he was going. They would brook no argument, marching on undeterred into the unknown, regardless of what risk it posed to them.

Akira could not deny that unity was their greatest strength. He would have never made it to this day on his own, after all. Operating on his own meant going against everything that made their modus operandi so effective. But from a less pragmatic point of view, it felt like a plain, vulgar betrayal.

Gulping down another mouthful, he convinced himself that this was the best course of action. They would be safe if he had his way, which led to the other thing that troubled him. He had the plan, but he needed to disengage from the others, get the chance to make it to that 'place' on his own. This was virtually as much of a challenge as the more ominous part of the plan.

But ruminating on the means only wasted the now. There would be time later to come up with a solution, even should he stay up all night. In this very moment, Akira Kurusu, in mind and presence, belonged solely to the people he loved.

Little by little, the mental chiaroscuro of peace and catastrophe faded from view. And only then did the party begin. There was no alcohol involved, but Akira was well inebriated anyway, and sufficiently bold to shower Makoto with affection in between sneaking food beneath the table for Morgana. Tonight, the fear of punishment by Sae Niijima did not deter him for a second. What's more, his girlfriend reciprocated his gestures, going as far as stealing a kiss from him, which made him happy to be alive.

The feast continued hours into the night, when concerns over transportation and the bill tend to be more frequent. Though it gave no sign of slowing down, one thing became clear to everyone: not all carried the same energy into the occasion – namely Yuuki Mishima, who snored quietly despite the surrounding merry. He seemed nowhere near as disengaged when he replied to the text from Akira the night before.

Ryuji reacted almost as soon as he saw how deeply Mishima slept. Akira would have stopped him if not for the fact that he was too entertained to do anything. Straw in hand, Ryuji began tickling Mishima's ear with the grace of a drunken worm. Yuuki groaned as the young athlete pulled him from the wall of sleep, not quite waking up yet. But inevitability struck with a loud, yelping sound that turned all eyes in the restaurant.

"Oh God!" Ann exclaimed, immediately sinking to laughter.

"Wha…? Where am I?" Yuuki mumbled, a thin line of nap-drool glimmering against the lights in the restaurant.

"Hey you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us and Inari over there." Futaba mimicked the rocking of a carriage.

"Hmm?" Yusuke was too distracted having his fill to notice what happened.

"If we were in a hospital, we could have pretended he'd just woken from a ten year coma." Haru remarked.

"Come on, guys. Don't tease him." Makoto said, though she seemed quite amused herself.

"No, really… what's happening…? How did I get here?" Yuuki looked rather unsettled.

"No need to worry, young man." Sae spoke. "We're in Chinatown, having a little outing. You're in good company."

"I should say so." Sojiro said. "You agreed to come, after all."

"I… I did. Oh snap!" It dawned finally on him. "Sorry everyone! This was so rude of me!"

"It's okay, man." Ryuji put some food on his plate. "We're all just having a good time. Kinda weird that you picked now to take a nap, though."

"Feeling tired, Mishima?" Akira smirked, as he poured some tea for him.

"Yeah, to be honest. Haven't had much sleep these days. I swear I need to learn some organisational skills."

"I suppose at some point you were bound to fall asleep, probably anywhere." Haru said.

"Here, for example." Ann suggested.

"Or the restroom." Futaba added.

"Or a pharmacy." Yusuke mused.

"Or in the middle of coming traffic." Morgana mumbled as he chewed.

"Really, Mona? That one sounds more in Haru's ballpark." Makoto scolded.

Yuuki now joined them in stomach and spirit as he tried making the most of the time they still had left. Akira could not help but smile, for although the event had a couple of stumbles, it was a good way to celebrate. They deserved it, he thought, for all the work and dedication. But really, he thought they deserved this gracious time just because they were. He hardly needed any reason to celebrate them.

"Still weird that you'd fall asleep here, dude. An earthquake could have hit and you'd have snored right through that." Ryuji said as he munched down on his last dish for the night.

And then it hit him. The solution he was looking for. Akira would not need to stay awake all night in search of the perfect gambit to sneak out. All he needed was to stay awake for one, carefully selected spell. The simplicity of it almost made him laugh. It was truly the cheapest trick a thief could get away with. And he planned to use it on his friends. That was a sour taste on his palate that would likely not wash off easily. He would live with it; there was no other choice.

At the end of the night came the farewells, and precious little time to linger in the calm before the storm.

"Thank you for coming." Akira spoke to Makoto a little further from the others.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Akira. You know, it was pretty impressive having put this together on such short time."

"It was mostly Yuuki, to be honest. I think I would've enjoyed an outing at Big Bang Burger just as much."

"Really?" Makoto arched an eyebrow in quizzical manner.

"Yeah. You know why?" Her boyfriend smirked.

"Don't."

"Because it's you what makes every moment special." He whispered without the slightest sense of shame.

"That sounds just as terrible as the first time you said it!" The young woman said as he held him close.

"I know." He wished this moment could last just a little longer, and then some. But it was not to be. Much depended on them come the morrow. All they had time for now was a kiss. "Good night, Makoto."

"Good night, Akira. Sweet dreams."

Later, in his bed on the attic at LeBlanc, he stared at the screen of his phone. He was only one touch away from sending the text into the Phantom Thieves' group chat. Once that was done, there would be no turning back. And now, with the joyous moments become a recent memory, his gambit started to make him ache within. The doubts began to settle over his intent.

One instant later, and he would have relented.

There was no room for hesitation.

He pressed 'send'.

The big day is coming. It's time we finished what we started. We need to go to the Velvet Room and finish getting our Personas' 'polished'. Day after tomorrow at the latest.

The responses followed a few seconds later.

Akira Kurusu started to hate himself.

[ ]

Stand up.

Somewhere in the distance, a soft voice with a violent tint called for him. Susumu Kamiyama was aware still, not quite dead and buried in the sands, yet only half-alive. He had not consciously given up, but going on with his search seemed even less possible now. The voice he thought he heard did not call again, but the echo lingered.

If he looked further ahead, he would even believe to catch a particular glimpse. A presence that was not there at all, and still bore the silhouette of a young woman. With unseeing eyes, she cast a hard gaze his way. And she was perfectly entitled to judge him for what he allowed to happen. His intentions may have been good, but in the end he turned out too similar to the late Kunikazu Okumura.

Did fathers often disappoint their children? Though Kamiyama had no offspring, in his eyes, he still let down the generation who would inherit the world. The least he could do was put his shoulder to the wheel and try to mend the problem he helped start.

Thusly, the search for the broken overlord continued.

Time no longer mattered, only success did.

And finally, one bit a time, he found it scattered across the wasteland. The colossal wreck that was once the King of Kings, and even then a spurious king, cast a shadow over the desert with what remained of its imperial magnitude. Susumu knew the likeness of his Persona was just Nyarlathotep's whim, a puny extension of his true, unintelligible self. But it was his Persona still. Ozymandias was every bit a spirit reprisal of Susumu, and he would put it to use.

"Ozymandias." He called out in commanding, unyielding fashion.

The azure shimmer that united them anew lit the wasteland whole, vanishing it from view and from existence.

When Susumu came to, he found himself within Nyarlathotep's physical domains. He was still the Crawling Chaos' mortal vessel, but whether or not Nyarlathotep knew it, the man had his ace up his sleeve. His will was not yet broken, even after seeing the Dark Lord's works. Somehow he would need to free himself from his hold to start unmaking the harm done.

Time was long gone for quiet, and for despair.