(Disclaimer) So I don't know about you guys, but I freaking love the zodiac. I don't live my life by it or anything. I just personally believe it can accurately depict general personality traits for people, i.e. I'm a Scorpio and Scorpio's are known to like the zodiac or supernatural phenomena aka this fanfic. With that said, here's the gang's zodiac symbols and typical traits that follow (to help better understand motives/personalities):

Maria & Yusei: Cancer—unpredictable, trustworthy, empathetic, clingy, protecters

The twins: Gemini—friendly, adaptable, impatient, fleety, communicators

Crow: Virgo—practical, petty, stubborn, hard-working, thinkers

Jack: Capricorn—ambitious, grounded, materialistic, proud, loners

Aki: Leo—dominant, courageous, dramatic, egotistical, leaders

"So," Carly slaps the meter stick against the white board for no other reason than to be dramatic, "this is what we know thus far in our investigation of Yliaster. Essentially, everything leads back to them: Ghost, Jack's doppelganger, the killer, and...assassinated? Uh, Jack, what does this say?"

The audience turns toward the blond giant at the table, who takes an ever so elegant sip of his coffee before bestowing his glorious wisdom on us all. "Associated with Fabio Dickbutt. That's Godwin."

We give an enlightened hum and move onward.

Crow begins, "We already know Godwin himself was apart of Yliaster. And it's pretty certain that both the Ghost and Jack's double-whatever were created by them too, though who know's why."

"So really," Bruno follows, "it's just the killer that we're lost on—why they're murdering people to begin with and how they're connected with both Yliaster and Maria."

"Aren't we forgetting something?" I bend slightly beneath everyone's gazes, but stand on my feet and go up to the board. "The white spirits. Somehow, they're involved. Whether they're doing the killing themselves or it's Yliaster, they're wrapped up in this too."

I write them into the "Root of All Evil," as Carly had punned/named her masterpiece, and draw in an arrow from the killer to the white wisps.

"Okay. Let's start with reasons why the killer kills." Carly waves the stick over the crowd, bidding any takers.

"Because they're a repulsive sicko with no morals or conscience to tell them not to do so," says Crow. Carly agrees and shorthands sicko onto the diagram, then gives anyone else a shot.

"Maybe they don't have a conscience, period." I reopen the dry erase marker and draw another arrow from the wisps to the murderer. "If they're spirits, they might not have consciences."

"I thought duel spirits had minds, though?" Bruno pipes up. "Right?"

"We don't know that these even are duel spirits. We didn't find any cards on them," answers Jack.

I add, "That doesn't necessarily rule out anything, though. When I asked Ancient Fairy Dragon about Zephyrus, she seemed pretty doubtful Zephyrus had a card. I think that might be because he's like the Crimson Dragon. You know, he's old and stuff."

"So these white things are as old as both the Crimson Dragon and Zephyrus, then?" Carly surmises.

"Or it's like Jack said, maybe they just aren't duel spirits—and don't you dare let it go to your pompous little brain that I'm agreeing with you—"

"Too late."

"But!" Crow announces boldly. "If they're not duel spirits, then what? Regular spirits?"

That gives me an idea. I turn back to the board and in the top right corner, doodle the white wisps in the blank space, and stand back with the rest of the group. "I always thought they looked like skeletons."

"Whoa," Jack eyes the drawing then me, "you don't think these are, like, homicidal psycho baby ghosts, do you?"

"Literally no one was thinking that, Jack," Crow groans and rolls his eyes.

"I am," Bruno says, looking uncomfortable, "now. And I wish I wasn't."

"I wasn't," clarifies Carly as she zips over to Jack, "but I'll say I will because that's what supportive girlfriends do."

"You just wanted to say girlfriend out loud."

"Oh, Jackie, you know me so well."

Crow makes a fake-vomiting grunt in response and like clockwork does a mindless spout of arguing ensue. But it fades to the background as I stare at the white board, getting lost in the dots instead of connecting them. It's when a pair of knuckles brush across my own that I am revived from my reflections. Our gazes interlock and split again as they join the board.

Yusei asks, "What are you thinking?"

"Definitely not ghost babies," I breathe out. "But...what if they are old?"

"So not ghost babies," Crow cuts in, "but ghost grandpas?"

I send him some side-eye. "No. I mean, like an older people. Like the ancient Egyptians or...isn't the Crimson Dragon connected to the Inca?"

The group's attention returns to our collage of villainy and the Signers in the room give a unified nod.

"Okay. So, what if these spirits are old, but as in of those from an older civilization. And they're dead, so what if they're looking for a way to come back? What if they're targeting young, healthy people as—"

"As hosts!" shouts Carly, mouth hanging wide. "Whoa. This...this just went from Scooby-Doo to The Exorcist real quick."

I keep going, the gears in my brain churning harder. "I told Ushio and Mikage that maybe the spirits stopped attacking me because of my asthma—because I'm not the picture of healthiness, you know? But what if it is because I'm a Star Child? What if it's because I already am a spirit that they don't want me?"

"But they do," Crow counters. "Didn't you say they were following you?"

"Yeah, but I haven't seen them much after the first time in the forest. Actually, the only time I've seen them after that was near one of the crime scenes."

After a bout of shivering silence, Bruno brings his point to the table. "Why an older people, though? What makes you think they come from a civilization as old as the Egyptians?"

"Well, duel spirits date back to them and..." I fold into myself and glance toward Yusei.

The mechanic catches on immediately and speaks in my stead. "Maria had a vision yesterday."

"You get visions, too? That's so cool!" I bow my head all the more and stare at the cobblestone. "Or not...cool? Not cool, gotcha."

A hand presses into my shoulder. "You don't have to talk about it, not if it's too hard."

I stare at the hand until Yusei takes it away, then send the man himself a smile. "No. It's important. My mark wouldn't show me them if they weren't important."

I address the rest of the room. "The reason I think they're people from an ancient civilization is because my visions show me that. I don't know the culture exactly, but it does look like one of the past to me. And in those kinds of cultures, death...killing isn't always immoral. It's just...something that happens and...people go on about their day."

"You saw something like that?" Crow's forehead ripples with concern.

"Something like that."

"Jeez, sis," is all he responds with before walking over and wrapping an arm around my neck in headlock-noogie combo. I fall limp with no other choice but to accept his off-brand form of a hug. "Aren't you just our little champ?"

Everyone in the room goes quiet. Except Jack—he pretends to puke.

Carly tags him with the meter stick, then joins me at the board. "There's also something else we're missing."

CAVE? is written off to the side, disjointed from the rest of the network.

"Have you heard back from Ushio or Mikage yet?" Yusei asks Carly.

"No. Apparently they need some fancy-shmancy linguist or translator—whatever you call someone who reads pictures, if there even is a name—to decode the drawings we found. And if they would just give me back my film," Carly's tone spikes momentarily, "I'm sure we could figure it out faster on our own."

"There's nothing to figure out," I say. "We don't know who was in that cave or if they have anything to do with Yliaster. But they have something to do with me and the white spirits."

I fill in the gap with another set of arrows going from the wisps to the cave.

Crow questions, "So, that cave's their hideout or something?"

"No, there was definitely a person in there," Carly disagrees. "There were fish bones and a campfire and everything."

"Surely if these spirits can tear up walls and kill people, they can gather firewood and go fishing," Jack states.

"Oh no." We all turn toward Bruno, who's expression is strangely inflexible. "I just had an idea."

"Well?" comes Jack's urging.

"It's not good."

"Then why are you wasting—"

"I mean, it's... Can I see the marker?" We allow the genius the stage and watch him work his magic. "Sector Security is trying to find a person to link to the murders so they can arrest them. We're trying to think of why and how a spirit could possibly be responsible for killing people. But maybe we're all just thinking way too hard about something like this tree—something that's connected and right in front of our faces."

The man flips the board to its spotless backside, unscrews the dry erase marker. "Maybe it's not one or the other..." Bruno's figure covers his writing and as he reveals it, abashedly does he say, "Maybe it's both."

We all stare at his equation, the answer that every single one of us believes in an aching heartbeat. An answer that was easy as one, two, three: PERSON + SPIRIT = KILLER

I'm so close to the board that I can't discern if their stares at it or me.

"It's like..." Carly whispers in the quiet, shakily. "Do you think it's like the Dark Signers?"

"Yeah," Crow mumbles back. "That's got to be it. One good one, one bad."

"That's who was in the cave," I say, my entire being straight to my soul running cold. "And on the roof. And in the forest."

I turn once more to Yusei. "You said you heard screaming—when you found me in the forest, you heard screaming. And I said that it wasn't me."

"They were in there with you," he replies, hollow. "They gave you the figure."

"But they didn't kill you," Jack begins. "They've gone through all this trouble to keep tabs on you and lure you into their den; why didn't they kill you?"

I stare down at my hands. It's not them that I see, but the memory of the light bulb erupting to pieces at a single touch. The memory doesn't go dark like the room had that night, but instead morphs into the soft golden glow of the fight for my life in the forest. "Because I did the same thing they've been doing to everyone else."

"Finding lots, are we?"

My head snaps up to Nayla wobbling into the office by the guide of her cane. I push a chair closer to her and she dives in its cushion with all her weight, then go back to my spot on the floor.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not looking for anything in particular," I throw my hands out at the pile of books, "but there's so much."

She smiles down at me, then turns her head to face the bookshelves. Though she can't be more than a foot from me, she looks like she's transported years—eons away. "Tatsuo always did have a thirst for knowledge."

"My mom used to say that about me." I chuckle and bring my knees up to my chest. "Except she would say I have a thirst, hunger, and sleep-deprived drive for it."

Nayla directs her time-traveling gaze on me. "You're a lot like him. I wish he could've met you."

"I wish I could've met him, too," I say, knowing no better and truer response. I jump back to the book I was skimming a moment later. "I was actually reading something that reminded me of him. Uh...oh! 'Ama suwa, ama llulla, ama quella.'"

I smile up at her and she shrugs a single shoulder in consideration. "I'm sure it's beautiful, whatever it means."

"It's Quecha, the language of the Inca," I explain with a laugh. "It means 'Do not steal, do not lie, do not be lazy.' It was the Incan way of life."

"Like a mantra."

"Yeah." I pause and wait for a memory of Mom to smear over my sight, but it never does. I stumble to get back on track, "Uh, t-the reason it reminded me of your husband is because apparently those who lived by this code...it says they 'went to live in the Sun's warmth while others spent their eternal days in the cold earth.'" I place the book on the floor and say, "That made me think of his book."

"Mm." Nayla flits her eyes upon the stacks again. She's quiet for a long time and I leave her to her thoughts. "Have you read it?"

"The book?" Nayla nods, not looking at me still. "No. I was planning on reading it for the first time when I came to visit you at the home."

She nods again, smiles too. But then that expression fades, allows the glaze in her eyes to spread across her entire body. I scoot over to her more so that I can lay my hand on hers, yet that doesn't seem to call her back, not entirely.

"You're a sweet girl. Too sweet to ask despite wanting to." She is right, and I think that's why I don't stop her. With this vacant look on her face and my curiosity screaming volumes over my consideration, I'm not sure either of us will be able to come back to this. I don't think I'll have the courage to ask or she'll have the strength to tell me ever again. "I don't know why he had that gun. I found it years ago, years before he died. But I never questioned it—it took a plane crash and my husband's death for me to question that gun. It became my biggest regret. It was all I could think about after he passed...until I thought about something else. Something I don't think I'll ever be able to forget."

My question of the day comes gently, "What was it?"

"Dear, it's like I said." Nayla faces me and, for some reason, I feel like I'm back in my vision. Like I'm a ghost all over again. "Tatsuo had a thirst for knowledge. So I wonder if maybe he drank a bit too much."

"Don't I know you?"

My vision refocuses on the blond, freckled man in front of me. "W-what?"

"I just realized how familiar you look," says Leo, although his indoor-voice sounds a lot more like an outdoor-voice. He leans in closer, eyes squinting. "Have we met before?"

Crow grabs his face and throws Zora's son back into his place on the sofa opposite us. "If that was your sorry attempt at hitting on our sister, the answer is no." Then, the self-proclaimed wingman sends me a flash of his pearly whites and mouths, "I got you."

"I-I wasn't trying to hit on her!" Leo waves his hands out to block the glaring daggers shooting his way. "I was just t-trying to—"

Jack steps in. "To what?"

"Please forgive my brothers' rudeness," announces my dry tone. "You see, I've had a plethora of gentleman callers as of late and they simply want my dowry to be as high as possible. So, should we talk chickens first or...?"

"Should we be offended by that?" Crow consults Jack, who merely shrugs. The flamehead points his gaze back at me. "I feel offended."

"Don't worry your pretty little head too much. It insults me more than anyone else."

"Well, then that's not a very good comeback." Crow kicks up a leg and settles into his seat with his hands locking to support the back of his head. "Congratulations. You played yourself."

I roll my eyes and rise. "I think I'm gonna get a move on, guys."

"You're not going to wait for Aki and the twins to get back with the suit?" asks Bruno.

"They'll see me. Plus, if Zora's gonna be here, someone will need to keep an eye on the three rambunctious chefs down at the cafe." My flippant wave becomes a farewell. "Good luck, Leo. I really do hope things work out with her. As much of a fight she'll give, I'm positive Zora's missed you."

His bangs bounce with glee as he nods and grins. "Thanks!"

I tread down the stairs afterward, already gone in my thoughts. There is just too much to think about, the most recent piece of the puzzle being what Nayla had said to me. Or, what she hadn't said but certainly implied—Tatsuo Inoue did not die, he was murdered.

I know first-hand what grief can do to people. How it can overcome people, how it can shape the way they think and act. And even more so, with Nayla's Alzheimer's, it made her quite the unreliable source. But I must be reverting back to my old habits, because I believed her without question. I believe her.

So with that belief in hand, I went where the best detectives head first: Google. I came up short, sadly. Tatsuo Inoue was born in New Domino, died near the Andes Mountains, and did some brilliant work in between. He found all sorts of artifacts across the world and was apart of some leading archaeological excavations. He was well revered among other scientists and had a hand in plenty groundbreaking research, of the most popular relating to cultural anthropology and theology. The book had come as a surprise, which makes sense considering, yet it sold decently despite that. I tried not to read to much of its synopsis, only the tagline: "What is the price of a life?" It's apparently based off some of Tatsuo's findings on the Mesoamerican peoples and cultures.

In short, if someone killed Tatsuo, they had more motive to do so than imagined. Money, jealousy, power. You name it. But there wasn't much else to tie to Nayla's suspicion to the ground. Her husband's death was one that rocked the world of science, but not much else. There was no controversy, no investigation, no suspects. Only an accident to blame on a faulty fuel tank.

As I step up the bottom stair to the door, I'm stalled in my escape. I turn back around and face Yusei's stare head on, then our linked hands.

When he lets go, he asks, "Are you really going to the cafe?"

"Yeah." My mouth frowns at the sound of his doubt, his sudden lack of trust. "Why?"

"You've been distant all day."

I laugh, an abrupt rush of breath out my nostrils. "Nothing gets past you, huh?" When only silence springs from his mouth, I sigh. "Will hearing that I'm not fine make you stop being such a worry-wart?"

"No."

"Yeah. I thought so. Look, my mind is trying to be a thousand-and-one places at once right now. I'm adjusting. I wish it would happen ten times faster, but hey! That's life."

Yusei eyes me a bit longer and from my guess, it's not one emotion he pins to me but so many that they're too fast to catch as they swim in the radiant pools of his eyes. "I'll drive you."

"No." I shake my head. "Thank you for the offer. Thank you for worrying. But I want to be alone. Just for a little bit."

What did I say? Old habits die hard.

—

"Wellie well well." Asura saunters up to me. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Blue Shirt?"

"We'd started to think maybe you got too big for your briches," Chiyo comments from her spot at the register.

"Of course not," I say, walking around the juniper-haired man. "I've just been dealing with some stuff lately."

Chiyo perches her elbows on the countertop and plops her face between her hands, a bummed look sagging her features. "So you've been mentally preparing for being out of a job too, then? Although, not showing up to work before you don't work anymore probably is the opposite of what you should do."

"Or the exact thing she should be doing! Don't you see, my love?" Asura skulks up behind me and arches over my shoulder, his hands pressed into them. "Our little girl has finally started taking after us! Your papa is so proud of you!"

"I never thought I'd live to see the day," chuckles Chiyo.

I remove Asura's arms from around my neck and face the two chefs. "What are you guys talking about?"

The friends share a look of confusion and say in sync, "You don't know?"

"The cafe's...closing? As in, for good?"

Asura shrugs. "We figured you knew since you hang out with Boss Lady all the time."

"And it makes sense," Chiyo adds in. "Not only are those old people homes hella expensive, but look at this place. This isn't where people come to eat, it's where they come to die."

"No offense Eugene and Marta!" Asura yells to the ever-grouchy man and his candy-wielding wife. "You know we're your biggest fans."

All that comes in return is a harrumph and a loud slurp.

"See? They may as well be dead." Asura then gasps and slams his hands on the counter. "You know what this place is, right? It's the purgatory diner!"

"Is that why I feel so dead inside when I'm here?" Chiyo asks flatly.

"Yeah! Because we're dead on the outside!"

I take my exit from the blathering pair and go to the racks in the back of the kitchen. My hand moves for the apron, but instead I just stand there, staring at it. And when I feel something crawl over my shoulder, I shriek. On reflex, I grab the pen in the apron's pocket and hold it out at the perpetrator.

"Whoa there," says Mako, his hands raised in surrender.

I sigh and lower my hands. "Why does everyone try to sneak up on me? Is it really that funny?"

"I wasn't sneaking up on you. I called your name, like, four times."

"Oh." I turn and stash the pen back from where it came. "Well, what do you want?"

"Hey," he rigidly starts, "uh, look. About what happened in the closet...I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—so uncomfortable you stop coming to work or anything."

Truth be told, I'd forgotten all about it. With everything going on, this all-consuming tornado-tsunami-hurricane of shit that has become my life, that incident seemed a lifetime behind me. It was so minuscule in comparison to all the other occurrences in my recent days that I couldn't care less about it. So the only reason I don't hold it against Mako, I suspect, is because I can't fit it into the load of problems I'm already carrying.

"The reason I haven't been coming to work has nothing to do with you. I just got a lot on my plate."

"Ah, okay." Mako nods. "So we're good, then?"

I must be wrong, however. Sure, there isn't any room for that moment between us in my brain, but there's space for something else. There's a corner just big enough for an idea. The "I don't think I should do this, but I don't know that I can keep myself from doing this" kind of idea. An idea too tempting to turn down, and one that easily earns a spot on the Top Five Dumbest Things I've Done To Make Myself Feel Better list.

"You know, it's funny," I shove my hands in my back pockets and teeter on my heels, "I was just joking with my friends about how many gentlemen callers I've been getting lately and how I'd be willing to join the bidder of the largest dowry for a night on the town."

Mako's confused stare shines with understanding, his mouth curling up into a smile that strikes my heart like a fat baby's arrow. "How many acres we talkin'?"

"Acres?"

"Oh yeah." He steps closer, enough to raise his hand and brush a few stray hairs behind my ear. "Lowballing, I'd say a half dozen. But for real, I'd give you the whole twelve. Maybe even a cow."

I turn the key in the ignition. After a couple stutters, the truck gurgles to life.

My gaze instantly travels to Yusei leaning against the garage's edge, my stupid grin to match his pleased smile. Then I'm hopping out the driver's seat and into his arms, squealing. "Oh my god, it works!"

He returns the hug loosely, probably too taken aback to react accordingly, and chuckles back, "You don't have to be so surprised."

I finally release him from my death grip. "No, it's not that I doubted you or anything! I was positive you'd be the one person who could fix it, honestly. But I mean," I set my sights on the vehicle, "it finally works."

"That it does. And I already went ahead and changed the battery and the fuel, too. So it should be ready to go."

"Ready to go as in..." I whip my head back to him, grinning like a dummy all over again. "Can we take it for a drive?"

"Sure." He nods. "But who's going to drive?"

I smile turns upside down at the question. "Duh. Me!"

"You can drive?"

"Can I drive?" My hands fly to my hips. "Yes. The sarcasm means yes, I can drive."

He crosses his arms and returns the cheekiness. "So you have a license?"

"You know, a minute ago I thought I was talking to a mechanic, not a Security officer. Exactly when did you become so lawful, Yusei Fudo?"

"Probably after almost heading back to the Detention Center due to accusation of not only breaking and entering, but also grand theft auto."

"Ah yes. I hear that does the trick." I laugh. "I promise it will just be a quick spin. I'll stay to the side streets and everything."

I bat my eyelashes at him and bait him with pretty pleases. Yusei closes his eyes and sighs, a smile adorning his face soon after. "I suppose one of us should tell Nayla."

Darting into the house, I shout, "One sunrise comin' up!"

And after running throughout the halls in search of the ailing woman, I find her on the porch with Zora at last. "Would you like to take a drive, milady?"

—

"I thought you said you could drive."

"I did and I am!" I defend, accelerating from the harsh pause at the stopsign. "And anyway, I didn't say I could do it well."

Yusei retorts, "You didn't say you had a license, either."

"I do, I swear! It's..." How exactly do you say "with the ashes of what used to be my old home, if they haven't cleaned it up and started rebuilding over it yet" without making a very unawkward situation suddenly and sufficiently very awkward? "Somewhere."

We share smiles across the teeny woman seated between us. I pull inside the culdesac and park next to the curb, then look at the woman who hadn't said a word the entire time.

"Nayla?" I lay a hand on her knee to try to get her attention. "How was it?"

Slowly, she angles her head toward me with blinking eyes. "It's over already?"

"Uh, yeah."

Her brows dip and her lips purse. Nayla faces the open road again. I wonder what it is exactly that she's seeing. "I was hoping it would last a little longer."

"Yeah." I nod, following suit in eyeing the street. "Yeah, I guess we could go a bit longer."

All she does is pat my hand and resume her oath of silence. And for some time, the time it takes to roam over the neighborhood, it doesn't bother me. But sooner rather than later does it start to eat away at my mind, so I flick on the radio. No one seems to care or notice, but I keep it low just in case. All I need is a little something to take my thoughts off the dark path they're headed down, anyhow.

~I don't care if it hurts

I wanna have control

I wanna perfect body

I wanna perfect soul~

We're on the coast somehow, riding up along the chain of shores and harbors of the seaside. The windows rolled down and the breeze whipping around our hair as the scent of salt sails in on its winds. The sun painting pastels in the sky, carving sculptures out of marble clouds. The thrums and bumps of the truck falling in line with our beating hearts, our deep breaths.

This moment was worth a picture and, had I not been driving, I think I actually would've taken one. But being here is good enough, I suppose. Living in this perfect snapshot of time is good enough. Maybe I'm being too sure of myself, but I don't think I'll ever be able to forget this.

And then...

~She's running out again,

She's running out

She's run run run run~

"That's not supposed to happen," I say, attempting to contain my freaking out. But it's kind of hard to when smoke starts rising from the hood of your car. "Right?"

"The engine's overheating," Yusei clarifies. "Just pull over. I'll take a look."

I slow into one of the beach parking spots and shut the truck off. Yusei gets out and goes to the trunkbed, then to the hood with his hands holding a jug and his toolbox. After a few minutes of waiting, Nayla and I in the seat and Yusei behind the hood, I go press for the cause.

"The coolant tank's leaking," he determines. Yusei eyes the white, billowing puffs and sighs. "I don't know why I didn't think to check it."

"We've all got stuff clogging our brains right now, Yusei. It just happens. We forget things." I rest a hand on his shoulder like he's done a million times to me. "And anyway, it will turn out okay, won't it?"

He smiles, the slightest dip in his lips. "Yeah. It's mostly waiting, but she should still be good to drive soon."

"How long are you thinking?"

"Thirty minutes at best, an hour at worst."

My hands slap against my thighs. "Then we wait."

When I'm inching nearer and craning my neck to get a better look, Yusei comments, "Probably shouldn't get too close."

"Oh. Right." I grin. "Because it will explode."

"I'm beginning to think you want that to happen."

"No! Of course not!" After my laughter quiets down, my gaze lands on my hands. "I guess it's kinda like what Rua said once: I don't have the best luck, so when bad things happen they aren't just bad, they're..."

"Just because bad things happen around you, Maria," he says, our eyes connecting, "doesn't make you a bad person."

My features are lost in confusion; half smiling, half creasing forehead. "I-I know that. Why...what would make you say that?"

Before Yusei starts tinkering with the vehicle's brain, he tells me, "I just thought you should know."

I stare at his back awhile and when no further explanation comes, I face the shore. Stare into the setting sun. The indecisive waves. "Have you ever been to the beach, Yusei?"

"A couple times."

"With people? With everyone?"

"No." He strides up next to me. "It's a good place to come and think at night, though."

"Mm." I nod and meet his watch with a smile. "But don't you think it would be nice to bring everyone here? At least once, just to have fun." While we can...

Yusei smiles back. "It would."

We stand for another few minutes in silence, a kind of quiet where even my brain has managed to pipe down and just listen to the ocean. Yusei departs to check on the engine again, so I return to Nayla in the front seat. Only, of course, she's not there.

I turn back to the beach and charge over the dunes as soon as my gaze finds her wilted form collapsed in the sand. She hadn't gotten very far, but that didn't mean I wasn't close to having a heart attack despite the fact.

"Nayla!" I yell while coming up behind her. "Nayla, what are you doing? You have to stay where I can see you! You scared me!"

She gives me the same nothingness that she had been all day, only watches the water pushing and pulling at the sand.

"Is she okay?" Yusei asks, stopping just feet away.

I look Nayla over and nod. "Yeah, I think she's fine. We'll just...we'll be here."

He leaves reluctantly, trudging back up to the truck. I give the woman another scan, and join her in the quiet.

"I wanted to see how far I could get," she whispers after forever. "I wanted to see if I could make it."

"Why didn't you just ask? I could've helped you, Nayla," I share.

She shakes her head, her eyes blinking lazily. "It's not the same. Things just aren't the same."

"Yeah. I guess not." I slide my legs up and curl my arms around them, my chin on top of them. It's a debate to tell her what I'd learned. But amidst the trappings of my lonesome ways, I figure the least I can do is put up a fight, duke it out with my old nemesis named Honesty. "I looked up Tatsuo. He was a great man."

"But you don't believe what I told you."

"No, I do." She turns to me and I look her dead in the eye. "Nayla, I do believe you. I do. I just don't think there's a way for me to figure it out."

Nayla gazes at me a moment longer, then toward the ocean again. "But you said that you could. That you would."

"Nayla, I...I never said that."

"Martha and Zora never believed me, Schmidtty too. It was all I thought about...talked about. It drove me crazy and it drove everyone I loved away from me, even my own son. Everyone except you."

"No... Nayla..."

Those hazy eyes turn back onto me this time. Unlike all the times before, I can't find Nayla in their murky, muddled waters. And she must have dragged me down below with her, because I don't see myself wading on the surface either.

"You always believed me, Anastasia. Only you."

And just like that, I regret my former love of this moment. Just like that, my infatuation has become pained and tearful and a longing for something that never was. I regret the mental photograph I had captured of this moment because all I want to do now is forget. Just like that, my love of right now was as lost to me as my existence was to Nayla.

Just like that.

My head lifts up from its place buried against my kneecaps. I stare at the factory door as the owl bangs its beak to the metal.

"I know who you are now!" I rise to my feet in the bed of marigolds. "I've seen what you've done, so I'm not afraid of you anymore!"

The dents pause.

I keep on, stand my ground. "I know who you are and I know your pain. The pain the world has caused you, the pain it filled you up with. That pain was the only thing you knew. It was the only thing could give in return, wasn't it?"

The quiet continues and I think that maybe I've conquered it, this dream. Then, talons cut through and claw down the door diagonally. Once. Twice. Now a hulking X stands before me. And, in a matter of seconds, it's sent flying.

I duck, huddled again into a ball until I hear the door slam into the back wall and crash to the floor. It's a few moments past silent that I feel confident enough to raise my head. Outside the factory awaits the maze. But it's different, I notice once I tiptoe up to the opening. It's not dark and haunting like I'd seen before, just shaded over by a dense canopy. Sunlight trickles in between myriad openings, though, and guide the way through the paths.

There's no chase, just exploration. There's no hurry, just peace. Most importantly, there's no echoing laughter, only light.

But my nerves are still on end. There's something lurking around here, I know it. I can feel it. And it comes out of hiding as soon as I look back.

The vines thicken and straighten into empty, prickled trees. The lush grass hardens with frost. The light is lost to the sweeping clouds of fog raising goosebumps and hairs alike over the back of my neck. Everything is cold.

My head swivels forward again, hoping that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But there is only the girl. The girl from my visions and a whirl of black smoke spiraling behind her. As I step back, she comes forward.

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're..." I wrap my arms around myself to keep warm. "You're the girl."

The cloud jerks and lurches. It looks as if it has legs—four of them—until they get sucked back into the vortex.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I don't... Is this a test?"

Now it growls and, halfway through, the cry heightens into a screech. The cyclone balances itself on two skinny legs.

"Do you know who I am?"

By the firmness of her voice, I can tell this is my last chance. But I don't know what to say, what to do, where to run to get away from all this. That's all I want. I don't want to know anymore than I already do. I just want it all to go away.

"I don't know who you are."

At that, the girl's bangs part for her glare to land directly on me. The cloud stops fighting itself and spins into the monstrous owl I've known it to be time and time again. Its head slumps over her shoulder and they speak as one:

"We are you."

Mikage tugs the lamp's cord, the bulb shining to life. Groggily, movements still laden with sleep, she grabs at her cell on the nightstand. She answers the call with a greeting that sounds more like a frustrated moan than a hello.

"I hate to disturb you because I know it's late—er, early, ma'am," says Fukao over the line, stiff as a brick.

The female detective has every intention to make her next remark catty, but she was far too exhausted and even more understanding. "What is it?"

"There's, uh, this lady here. She's pretty out of it, pretty hysterical."

"Why are you calling me? Didn't they teach you civilian outreach and intervention?"

The usually joking dispatcher stutters back, "W-well, yeah... But she's not threatening to hurt anyone or herself. We have some officers here trying to calm her down, but she says she only wants to speak with you or Detective Ushio."

"Fine." Mikage parts the call with that and rolls over. She conks her partner on the forehead and the burly man's mouth twitches. Then she pinches his nose shut, hard. Ushio startles awake with a dazed grunt, causing her to chuckle. "Quit your snoring. We've got work to do."

—

The duo stomp through the building's automatic doors in a matter of twenty minutes, they're stern expressions the only thing to keep them from looking as worn out as they truly are. They head farther into the first floor where they spot two officers and the chubby dispatcher, as well as the woman. And as they get closer, the curly hair and slim stature seem all too familiar to the pair of detectives.

"She hasn't said anything else since I got off the phone with you, ma'am," Fukao divulges. "But, uh, Hopper here got her to stop crying at least."

"Breathing techniques and stuff," the blond officer brags. What did he want, a cookie for doing his job right?

"We've got it covered from here," Ushio dismisses them as his partner lowers before the seated girl. "You too, Fukao."

"B-but, sir, this is my desk." Both he and Mikage eye their subordinate. Fukao's headset is off in an instant. "Suddenly my bladder is really full."

"Maria," Mikage calls once they're alone. "You can say what you want now."

Martha's granddaughter lifts her gaze from her hands, tears gathering in her eyes. Strained and airy, she holds her fists out. "I need you to arrest me."

The two investigators share a stunned look. "Why? What did you do?"

"It was me." The tears line her cheeks all over again, the previous sets never quite fading from her skin. "In the factory. I killed those men."

Who doesn't love a good conspiracy theory, amiright?

Also, does anyone know where I can watch BBT? I can't seem to find it on websites I know and trust ie Youtube (not the abridged version lol), Crunchyroll, , etc. I'm thinking of doing something with that, but I have to watch the movie to see if it'll work. If I can't find it, it's alright; the thing I wanna do isn't vital, per say, to the fic's progression so it's not as if I won't be able to continue on without it. I just think it would be pretty interesting. Would you guys like to see something concerning BBT, even?

TTFN my little gems!