Azami retched her lunch the moment the world she never knew shifted back into focus. Trembling, she wiped her mouth with a disposable tissue in one quick movement and tossed it aside. She still felt like hell and standing up made her nausea worst.

She bent over, and pretend she was a ragdoll from the upper half. Though her position was strange, it was effective in battling the nausea. Gradually, it receded into nothing, and she slowly straightened herself.

Tired crimson eyes stared at shaky hands. She clenched and unclenched them, forcing them to be still. Yet, they still trembled despite her efforts.

With a resigned sigh, she looked up from the cracked linoleum floor and took in her surroundings. A sour taste in her mouth stung, but she did her best to ignore it.

The atmosphere of this place felt…dangerous.

It looked like an exact copy of Shibuya station if it was neglected from care. Desolate, cold, and silent. Wind howled and roared freely with power, threatening to devour her with noise alone.

It was clear there were no occupants except for her, yet she felt watched by something.

Unless it was her imagination, the walls which were latched with web-like designs pulsed in every passing second as if it was a sentient being.

She shuddered at the thought.

She gave her surrounding a quick look, trying to be as calm as possible. She can't afford to panic.

Nothing good came from panic.

She knew it firsthand.

She suffered from it.

There were stairs leading both up and down. Her life relied on her only choice – or what she assumed was a choice.

Maybe if she waited for help – no. It will take too long.

There were too many variables to act properly.

"Where the hell is this place?" questioned Azami as she readjusted her cap with practiced motion.

Predictably, no one answered her.

She cursed under her breath, slowly approaching the stairs leading up. By logic, going up should be the path to exit.

She stared at the darkness, and the void stared back.

She can't let her emotions overwhelm her. She must focus. Be wary, alert and focus. A slip of her judgement can spell her death.

Steeling her nerves, she reached for the railings and gripped them.

As much as she wanted to believe she was dreaming, the sour taste persisted and the coolness of the railing bit her skin.

Her footsteps were quiet like a hunter on a hunt. It was a habit that evolved into a necessity over the years. She winced each time a footstep was louder than it should.

How can she deny her senses? She lived on them to survive even if it is by the grit of her teeth. She has to live for her mother who was now a shell of her former self.

And to spite those who had wronged her. Her relatives who had showed their true colours, and the toxic society.

Knowing her uncle is just after her inheritance, and actively trying to rebrand himself as a good person. He would've succeeded if he came when she was more vulnerable – more disgusting naiveté.

Everyday was a struggle. One misstep, one misspoken word, or one action can cost a life. The multiple facades she wore throughout the years never cracking, yet they melded into one another and separate just as easily with a single smile.

Her living...even if it's an empty life. It's enough.

A beastly roar startled her, almost made her slip. It sounded angry yet, it tinged with despair.

A despair she knew too well.

One part of her felt a kinship to the despairing beast, while another part feared it. As if it smelt her emotions, it encroached on her mind only to stop by a line called 'logic'. For a moment, she could imagine eyes which shone like a pair of polished garnet stared back at her.

Her emotions were a mess. They were uncontrollable, ever-changing and more of a hindrance in a crucial moment. In its worst, the emotions contradicted with each other and in its best, it made reality much harder to bear.

Even now, she wasn't sure how she felt towards the noise before. On one hand, it grounded her, on the other, she just wanted it to be a dream.

And by a long shot, be a trigger for her to awaken from this insane nightmare.

She chuckled, aware of her paradox of wants.

"I am a damn fool." She muttered sardonically.

~.*.~

Hide.

She obeyed her instinct without a second thought. By the time she registered she was hidden in the shadows of a station platform, she had identified her potential obstacles.

Slimy, mud-like deformed humanoids. All over its body were masks of different expressions. Their expressions were forever frozen, cursed to display those uncontrolled emotions.

They shuffled forward with their arms waving feebly. Their main masks were all identical, emotionless and in the place of eyes were glowing azure light like a shining beacon.

A few stood in place, staring at nothing.

Unless her eyes are playing tricks, their eyes were not just a single pair. They were countless, dotting across the gaping holes of their false masks.

It was sickening to watch when they suddenly looked at her hiding spot.

Soon their gazes morphed into...

They looked similar to those days.

Her body went tensed in a split second before she shook her head, as if it could erase that miserable moment of weakness. She could pretend she was still okay…right?

Just fake it till you make it.

Instinctively, she bit her tongue until a familiar taste of copper and pinpricks of pain was felt. Inside, she was breaking, the tiny pieces she wished to piece together becoming more unfamiliar as days passed. When was the last time she had a good rest? When was the last time she felt a sense of security?

A familiar pang of sorrow, grief, and resignation overwhelmed her being.

Those gazes were her current reality. Accusing, hatred, anger, all the negative emotions compacted into those gazes.

There are things best left forgotten, but…

Sometimes she couldn't help herself, looking back at the more happiness-filled days, becoming more fractured as time passed. Those days were gone. Forever.

Against her will, memories of a broken past haunted her.

~.*.~

Azami remembered a group of nurses ushering her to a private room, looking sombre. The sterilized smell of medicine was in the air, their footsteps echoed in the hallway. Hers was the oddity among order.

She remembered seeing white with a dash of red, and then some mutterings, their looks of pity as she met their gaze with her own. There were questions at the tip of her tongue, but she restrained from voicing them. Her mother hated unnecessary questions that seemed irrelevant and impolite, especially when patience will eventually lead to answers.

The gold trophy she had won earlier from her competition gleamed weakly under the fluorescent lights. A familiar, comforting weight of her violin case was slung over her shoulder. As they walked further into the building, her uneasiness grew, slowly overcoming her well-earned elation.

Confused and disturbed, she followed the nurses into an office.

One sentence was spoken when she sat down on a chair.

'Your mother...' Azami remembered how a kind looking nurse struggled to break the news to a child who had no knowledge of the possibility of death. 'She may never wake up.'

Her world shattered into little pieces by events spiraling out of control.

First, she was betrayed by her own grandmother. It was the last conversation with her grandmother.

Grandma, when is mom coming back?

All of the sudden, her vision went red from pain.

Her eyes had widened from fright and shock, a hand nursing an angry red mark on her cheek – why is her grandma angry?

'You damn devil!'

Second, by law.

'That child will have no future if she enters the foster home system – she has an uncle who is willing to take her in.'

Mom is still alive!
Mom is still alive!
Mom is still alive!
She is alive!
Pl-please! Don't take me away from my mother!

Third, by her relatives.

'Hello, Azami-kun. Today we'll be taking care of you.'

Umm... Thank you for taking me in, uncle and aunty!

'Touma-kun, meet Azami, your cousin. Be nice to her.'

'He's nothing when compared to you. Why do you have to be excellent in everything? Can you at least...guide him?'

I'll help!

'You dare sabotaged my son?! How could you?!'

Aunty! I didn't- He's lying!

Azami protested, tried to show her aunty the truth. Her son's results are hers. Was it that difficult to differentiate between their writings?

His writings were more of chicken scratches than anything!

'I should listen to my ma. You're a damn devil.'

Fourth, by society.

'I heard her mother killed herself because of her.'
'She's a reincarnated devil.'
'So...can you summon your minions from the underworld?'
'Ah? Her? She's useful for grades. Other than that? She's a wonderful scapegoat for us if anything goes wrong.'

Azami cried, pleaded for justice, for help.

.

.

.

Not one soul came.

~.*.~

Shaking with fury, she glared at her obstacles, their gaze now away from her hiding spot. In her mind, they held faces of the public – faceless, phantom voices rang in her ears like pests. They whispered hollow threats, blaming their misfortune on her.

She will survive. She has to. She had sworn an oath to her mother.

With a quick sweep of her surroundings, she took note of her terrain with a grim expression.

No matter how experienced she was, walking silently on the rocky ground of the subway was too tricky to even attempt. She glanced at her footwear of choice. Plus, her shoes aren't suitable for this terrain.

Mentally checking off stealth of her list, she reviewed her remaining options. With a simple analysis, she erased the idea of fighting and reluctantly jumped onto the idea of calling for help.

She tapped her schoolbag lightly, staring ahead. Her smartphone was switched off the moment she was out of school. She had made sure of it.

On the off-chance she did receive a signal, who could she call? Requesting for help in its aftermath could easily reached their ears, despite the literal distance.

Pinching her nose, she muttered, "They would set the Dog on me."

Shadowed by the one and only annoying, suicidal, bandaged man she wished to have never met in the first place? No, that was not an option.

Besides, her smartphone battery was limited. She may need it for its flashlight.

She frowned, unable to dismiss the nagging feeling at the back of her mind. What she had forgotten?

All of the sudden, she felt a familiar chill down to her spine.

Death was always hovering, breathing down her neck as it anticipated a single mistake which will cost her life. One misstep, one wrong word, and her life would be forfeited.

She chuckled sardonically as she closed her eyes. Who knew Death could be a constant companion?

"Focus." Berated Azami.

A reckless plan was not an option. But in this strange world, it became one.

How ironic it was when her last resort revealed itself to be her best bet.

Unknown to Azami, she was smirking wickedly.

She exhaled a long breath and opened her crimson eyes. For a few moments, the red flickered to gold. During those brief time, she saw a faint trail of light on a path before it faded into nothing. In a split second, she jumped onto the rocky path, instantly alerting the creatures to her presence.

It was unnerving to noticed their eyes turned on her without a split second of delay, as if they were a singular creature instead of the deformed bodies they actually are.

"A hive mind," she stated with a flat voice. "Yay."

Then, she ran, dimly hearing their groans and determined chase. Locked areas flitted her vision like a dream as she passed.

As expected, the area was huge enough for her to maneuver. Once, she tripped when a foot landed onto a misleading depth of gravels, and barely caught herself in time. Hands and knees scarped, bleeding.

Adrenaline dulled her sense of pain, but Azami dimly noted treatment was needed.

Somewhere along the way, she had lost her cap, her hair danced freely from its restrain, sometimes obscuring her vision.

To a normal person, encountering a dead end could easily become their grave.

But to Azami?

Dead ends were nothing when faced with her freerunning skills. She can outrun those creatures, dance away from their outstretched limbs and pretended her brushes with Death were forced delayed appointment.

It was to live or to die in this desolate place; a gamble with odds against her. That was a fact.

Sweat beaded down her face, her blouse clung to her like a second skin. Against all odds, her schoolbag was still slung over her shoulder, its straps digging deep onto her poor shoulder.

"THERE!" She shouted when a similar looking station platform entered her line of sight. Hastily climbing up the platform with renewed vigour, she glanced back and had to swallow her nausea.

A huge lump of slime had gathered. They groaned meaninglessly, their many eyes seemed to gleam as they met hers. And an impossible long limb lashed out, its hands turning into claws right before her eyes.

Most people would be stunned by sight, but her reflexes saved her with a simple red line on her left arm.

She climbed and climbed until her feet carried her to a new place.

Blank eyes stared at the current hell. It was no different from the hellhole she had escaped.

Rinse and repeat.

Run. Dodge. Faster. Survive. Survive. Run. Live. Dodge! Live. Live. Live!

Then, there was silence.

Silence?

No more groans. No more eyes to be seen and seeing.

Was she in a safe zone?

She dared to hope.

Tired, but wary eyes glanced around the new area. The only thing stood out was an empty bus station. She eyed it warily for a while before dismissing it from being a possible trap.

Gradually, she relaxed as she became certain of her safety.

But like all living beings after a strenuous activity, exhaustion paid back in full force.

Red, black and yellow spots danced at the edges of her vision like fairy lights. Her head felt light, her body heavy.

She collapsed to her knees like a puppet whose strings were cut, breathing heavily. Every muscle screamed from its harsh punishment as adrenaline wore off. Every open wound bled and stung.

It was a good sign. That meant she is alive.

Her parched throat constricted for a moment.

Water.

Shaky hands reached for her bag, and pulled out a plastic water bottle.

Through her fatigue, she wrestled the cap of her water bottle. A quiet cry of relief escaped her lips when it popped off, and drank greedily. Soon, it was emptied and discarded.

She forced herself to crawl towards the bus station, and hopefully settle on its seats.

Her progress was slow. Too slow.

Multicolour spots became more prominent in her futile effort while her body protested.

Azami cannot muster enough strength to even yell from frustration and pain.

What felt like hours was actually minutes of struggle to stay awake and pathetic attempts to move.

Distance stretched between her and the station, becoming another eternity.

Eventually, she felt numb, her eyelids closed against her will. The last feeling she remembered was the coolness of the floor against her exposed skin.

~.*.~

The colour black flooded her sight, with the ocean waves singing symphonies.

Drifting, wandering, only relying by a gentle push of a current to move.

Here, she felt calm.

And bored.

The feeling of loneliness stung and bit worse in this dull landscape.

She had no idea where she was. Yet, she accepted the unknown as it is without questions much to her own surprise.

It was as if she had been here a million times.

Maybe this is a déjà vu?

'Yo!' A familiar voice chirped. A flash of yellow was all she registered before a soft material tickled her neck.

'Ya' don't mind having death accompanying you?'

She tried to stifle her laugh, but ended up in a fit of giggles. Her guard was down the moment the youthful voice spoke. So many parts were fighting against the other, giving her a massive headache.

Her mind said: Don't fall for it.

Her heart sighed in relief.

Experience told her: Appearance is a lie. A facade to their rotten core.

Her instinct whispered: Be careful.

The giggles stopped.

Azami listened to her instinct and locked her crying heart. The rest lingered with a unanimous agreement, echoing her instinct's one line.

'Friend?' The youth sounded miserable as if he sensed her vigilance.

Time passed in silence. The soft material brushed her chin as its owner moved somewhere. She felt his presence somewhere to her left.

She could imagine him sulking, but his words changed that image.

'I'm sorry, I... I wish we can be normal friends. No more personas. No more fate dictating our end. You deserve a better life. You earned it. Our contract is done, but...'

Regrets?

'I don't understand a single thing you're talking about.' Azami spoke slowly.

The youth winced. 'Can you see me?'

Azami laughed with fake mirth.

'I can only see black. Yellow when whatever attire you're wearing flashed before my sight. I can hear the ocean and your voice and myself. My sense of touch is almost non-existent.'

'Who are you and what are we? Where am I?' Continued Azami, tinged with boredom and exhaustion.

Her mind, experience and instinct muttered the questions like a broken record: Who are you and what are we? Where am I?

Her heart screamed between the questions: Stop it. He's a friend!

'A poor shadow of your companion of our lonely period.' The youth spoke with a melancholy and resigned conviction.

It was just a moment, she felt heartache – a sensation she tried to close off.

The embers of compassion in Azami burned a little brighter, but was quickly snuffed out by instinct.

Then, mind spoke: Emotions brought her pain.

Experience continued: A weakness her enemies can exploit.

Instinct growled: Compassion has no place in us! No one heard us. No one bothered to help!

Trust no one but ourselves. Instinct, experience and mind growled as one.

Azami was deathly calm, anger simmering beneath the mask. 'So you...heard me. The whole time.' Her voice gradually reduced into a whisper with each word.

'Yes.' His voice shook, on the verge of crying. 'I can only watch. But this time I can at least help.'

'And you. You. You. You. Fucking. Didn't. Help. Until now?'

'I know I am being selfish. I have no excuses. Friend.'

Azami was speechless, her building rage dissolved in a matter of seconds.

For years, no one admitted their faults to her and always blamed her. She was used as a scapegoat over the years – so-called friends in one second, and the next second a knife to her back whenever something went wrong.

Nonsensical to whimsical blames.

Their voices drowned her's. No one bothered to know her. They believed in the never-ending rumour mills.

She had lost count of the number of times she succumbed to despair. Just shutting down, seeing and unseeing. Too many lines blurred beyond recognition.

Only operating based on instincts and sometimes with experience and mind.

When was the last time she truly smiled as it is instead of a mask?

She tried to face the direction of the youth's voice, but she can't see, she can't navigate her way in this inky darkness, the tide was against her. Knowing the youth was near her was frustrating. A yearning for knowledge beckoned, to at least meet him.

'You cannot escape Mementos without being true.' The youth paused, allowing her to digest his cryptic words. 'Look within yourself.'

Then, his presence was gone.

Azami fought an urge to strangle the youth. And that was his help? His words?!

She sighed, biting back a curse. His words were her first, and maybe the only clue.

Her mind, instinct and experience whispered: Aren't we enough?

'It should be enough,' she spoke aloud, more to herself. Society despised the weak. But she was strong, she was not weak.

Her heart which had long been quiet suddenly sneered, broke out of its complex locked chest: Liar.

Experience muttered: A necessity.

Mind snarled: A requirement.

Instinct laughed before it spoke with contempt: An oath was sworn. To lie.

For the first time in years, instinct and heart joined forces as they uttered a single sentence.

Shall we test the liar we are part of?

A/N: This is an updated version of Chapter 3. I have updated Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 too, please reread them. Chapter 4 is still being written, and is delayed because of college work. Thank you for your patience!