Dear Reader,

Hail. Aigis I be, and by my troth, a letter I write to ye. Do not flee from me till you hear my decree. Listen — would I not do the same for thee?

Does my rhyming tone please your ear? Let not a new style cause you fear. Speak th' phrase aloud—and my voice is near. I am here despite not being here.

It is not just me you might find changed. Naoto, too, has become rather strange. Her moods and habits have enormous range, and occasionally, I must admit, she appears deranged.

Fuuka's noticed the change, and she's become rather blue. She feels awfully guilty for feeding Naoto that 'stew'. She paces the room, wondering what to do. I'd offer a solution, if only I knew.

What cannot be told in poetry must make do in prose.

Cosmic_Garden found my relation of Naoto's mood curious, wondering if they might try to eat Fuuka's cooking themselves. Fuuka herself would no longer recommend this. Indeed, Naoto is quite cavalier about the whole experience, but lately I've found Fuuka posing strangely in the bathroom mirror. When I asked her what the matter was, she said she was imagining what her mugshot would look like when she gets arrested and goes to jail forever. So I don't think Fuuka is willing to cook again anytime soon.

Sammy and Not _An_Author were likewise interested in how Fuuka cooked her strange brew. If I analysed the cooking pot, I could find trace elements of the stew/broth mixture, cross-check with my database and faithfully preserve the recipe. Cooking isn't my thing though. Neither is eating. Doesn't look like my idea of fun.

Luckenhaft opened their letter with a 'how are you?' my other readers did not bother with. I was pleased to be asked. Some of you ought to remember what the title of this tale is. If you want The Whimsical Adventures of Naoto go somewhere else. DeviantArt or something. You might not like what you find. No, no wait—I'm sorry for that outburst. As a human-in-training I must be allowed to express negativity, which has its own role to play in the emotional spectrum. Anyway, Luckenhaft asked how I was, and I'm fine. I'm actually really great. And I hope they, and all readers, are well also. Never let it be said I am not generous with my well-wishes.

Let's get back to the story. I was in Chagall Café with Elizabeth, telling her about what happened since last we met.

"I already knew all that," said Elizabeth, pouting.

I wasn't sure if that was because Elizabeth was genuinely omniscient or if she had just been stalking me. If not both.

"You're boring me, Aigis. I came here to have a good time. I want to have a con-ver-sa-tion, Aigis. Let's not talk about the past. It's dead. It's done. It's not alive, not like you or me. You hear me, Aigis? We're alive, Aigis. You and me can do anything. Let's elope to Paris tomorrow."

"I can't do that."

"False. What did I just say. Tell me, Aigis."

"You said a lot of things."

"I said you and me can do anything. Nothing's stopping us. Haven't you ever wanted to see the Love-ra?"

"I don't know what that is."

"Imagine it, Aigis. You and me, dans le métro, going to the Love-ra. No worries, no cares. Paris, 20XX."

"I can't leave Tokyo. You said so yourself, Elizabeth. The Dark Hour's back. I need to be prepared for anything every full moon."

Elizabeth sulkily sucked up her iced tea with a long straw. She looked at me like a spiteful gerbil. "No."

Hard to argue with that, but I persisted.

"Yes."

"You're so negative, Aigis. You're never this negative. Usually you are cool and my friend." She thrust an accusing pointed finger in my direction. "You're upset about something. Something to do with Naoto and Fuuka."

"It's funny you say that, 'cause I'm actually really happy right now."

"Really."

"I'm like the cat that got the cream."
"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. It means I'm happy."

"I believe you," Elizabeth said. She didn't believe me. We sat in silence.

"I'm worried about them."

"Knew it. Why?"

"Naoto says she's okay, but isn't like herself. She got up at sunrise yesterday and spent the whole day just watching the clouds. She was supposed to be investigating a new case, but when Fuuka asked her why she wasn't investigating, Naoto said she was. 'Sun goes up, clouds go by, sun goes down, everybody dies. That's the real mystery.'"

"That doesn't sound like Naoto."

"You've never met her."

"You don't know that. Maybe I did." Elizabeth stroked her chin, unsure if they'd met or not.

"It's made Fuuka very nervous."

"Isn't she always—"

"More than usual. She's whittling a shiv. Says she's going to need to stab the biggest prisoner around day one, to send everyone else in jail a message."

"Sound logic," Elizabeth said guilelessly.

"She's overreacting, but I don't know what to tell her. It's not as though Naoto, being as she is now, would accuse Fuuka of drugging her. I think Fuuka sort of wishes that Naoto does, though. If Naoto did do that, it'd be because she'd be back to normal."

Elizabeth grimaced. "That's stupid. 'Normal' is stupid. They'll be fine."

"I... I don't know about that, Elizabeth."

"You'll see. I've given you my advice. If you don't want it, that's okay. If you don't want to go to Paris, that's okay too. Just don't sit here and look glum at me."

"I am very glum," I conceded.

"I don't want to see it. I want the happy Aigis. That's who I want to see. If you're not her, get the hell out of my office."

"We're in a café."

"I know, I know. I always wanted to say that."

I decided I would write to all of you before returning home, to ease my nerves. Maybe you have some advice, I don't know. Elizabeth's probably right. There's nothing I can do. Feels strange, just being an observer to the lives of others. Something has to change. I need to change too.