III
Sunday
April 7, 2013 — Evening
Overcast
Darkness stretched before Shou.
He blinked.
He couldn't see anything! Whether his eyes were open or shut, all he saw was black.
Then, slowly, his vision began to adjust.
He was in a subway tunnel.
He paused for a moment, his pulse pounding in his ears. He listened for the telltale rumble of a train speeding down the track. Some sign that he might be in danger.
Nothing.
No . . . it was somehow . . . less than nothing.
He scuffed his foot on the nearby wall, and it was as if the inky blackness ahead sucked in the sound. Spirited it away to parts unknown.
What . . . ? I don't understand how . . .
How did I get here, anyway?
Considering this question, it hit him. The last place he remembered being was in bed.
This was a dream!
As if responding to his thoughts, there was a loud, electric hum, and the lights in the tunnel went on. Small, round glass half-globes, lining the tunnel walls, burned with sickly florescence. Shou nearly jumped out of his skin.
He stood for a moment, his heart feeling like it was slapping against the inside of his ribcage. He peered into the tunnel ahead, but saw that the illumination only went so far. All the subway lights more than ten yards away from him remained off, the dark depths ahead still impenetrable to the eye.
Shou hesitated, then pinched his arm, and squeezed his eyes shut.
He hoped that when he opened them, he would be back in his dorm room.
He counted to five, focusing on the pain, how it should jar him into wakefulness.
He opened his eyes.
The tunnel still lay before him.
Screeee . . . The sound of metal on metal, emanating from farther down the subway line. And then a repetitive noise, cha-chuck, cha-chuck. Cha-chuck, cha-chuck.
Shou froze. Panic twisted his belly.
A train was coming!
Bright headlights rounded a curve in the tunnel, piercing the tenebrous black.
It was heading straight toward him!
Fear ripped through Shou. There was nowhere for him to go! Even if this was a dream, he didn't seem to be able to get out of it. What would happen if he was hit by a train? Would he just wake up? Would he actually feel the pain? Or, could he actually be . . . hurt? For some reason, he thought this last one was a definite possibility. He'd never had a dream like this before. It didn't follow the rules.
The train advanced, howling down the track like a steel behemoth. With nowhere to go, Shou pressed his body flat against the subway wall, and hoped he wouldn't be smashed into oblivion.
The locomotive rumbled down the track.
Closer.
Closer now . . .
Fwoosh! A rush of air hit Shou in the face as the train shot past him, mere inches from taking off his nose. The noise of the wheels chugging along the track felt ponderously loud, like nails driving into his skull. Terror dug its claws into him, and he was completely paralyzed, powerless to do anything until the danger was gone. His insides felt like they were trying to jump out of his throat.
At last, the tail end of the train zoomed by, and it disappeared down the tunnel.
Shou leaned over, panting, resting his hands on his knees. Sweat slicked his palms, and he dried them on his jeans.
What was going on here?
Clearly this was no ordinary dream.
Shou glanced behind him. The tunnel there was identical to the tunnel in front of him. He knew he couldn't just stay here, but he had the sense that going back would lead him nowhere. And he had no desire to walk in a direction where the trains would be coming at his back. He had no choice but to walk forward, into the gloom that surrounded him.
He walked, and walked, and walked.
As he proceeded, the globe lights along the walls ahead burst to life to accommodate him, while those behind winked out. The dream was responding, reacting to his presence.
He went on for what felt like hours. His breath became labored; his lungs seared; his legs burned. Time seemed to have no meaning. Or perhaps it was just the opposite. Maybe he was trapped here, in this one . . . nightmare . . . for the entire time his body was asleep.
What if he never woke up?
Shou pressed on with a renewed sense of urgency; adrenaline surged through him, relieving his fatigue. This tunnel had to go somewhere. There had to be a way out of this terrible place. He just had to keep on going, keep on moving ahead . . .
He came to an intersection.
Six paths stretched before Shou. Each one was identical to the next.
He felt a pang of doubt.
Which way to go?
So you're the one, whispered a monstrous voice; a growling, sibilant voice that sounded as if it somehow held many voices swirling within it.
Shou whirled about, his heart rate climbing. He looked for the source of the voice. He saw a black silhouette, hovering in the air in front of one of the paths.
You're the one He picked, said a second voice.
Shou found another dark shape floating above one of the branching tunnels.
He chose you to represent 'them,' did he? spoke a third.
We won't let you win, said a fourth.
We will inherit this world, a fifth told him.
Give up now, said a sixth, before it's too late.
Each and every path was blocked now, guarded by a taunting Shadow. Shou didn't know what to do. He had a powerful intuition that he needed to find a way through, somehow. The very world depended on it; he could feel it in his bones.
But how?
Persona . . .
The word bubbled up from the sea of his soul. Shou clutched his chest. What . . . ? What was Persona? He felt a powerful fire in his solar plexus. As if there was something deep within him, yearning to break free. His breath came in short, shallow gasps.
A chuckle, like the sound of grinding gravel, echoed through the space.
An overhead light flared to life.
Shou looked up.
A seventh shadow hung in the air above him, larger than all the others. Where the first six felt indistinct, somehow hazy, this seventh had a ponderous presence. Shou could feel a weight pressing on him, smothering him. It was all he could do to draw air into his lungs. Perspiration popped on his forehead and trailed down his face. Panic overtook him, swirling around his abdomen.
He was in grave danger, he realized.
Will you prove yourself? asked the seventh voice.
That enormous pressure increased, but Shou fought against it. He fought with every ounce of strength he had. He wouldn't let himself be defeated. Not after he'd come this far, struggled so long to get here.
Hadn't he?
Yes, he had! Morigami Academy surfaced in his consciousness. He had already proven himself by being accepted, and he would prove himself again if he had to. He wouldn't stop. He would do whatever he needed to show that he was worthy. Worthy of acceptance, of admiration. Of friendship.
Of love.
Shou grabbed on to those strong feelings like a raft amid stormy seas. He felt himself lifted, supported against the blackness that surrounded him. He raged against the dark, defiant in his unwillingness to yield.
Everyone thinks they can carry this weight, said the seventh voice. But you . . . You are different. You possess an interesting quality . . . An underlying strength the others lack. Will it be enough to bear this burden?
No! cried the other six voices.
The seventh paid them no mind. Seek the truth, it said. Seek, but be wary of what you may find. For what lies at the end is not an easy load to carry.
"I'm strong enough," Shou shouted into the darkness.
Hmm. Is that so? I suppose we shall see, the seventh replied. We will meet again.
Shou felt himself losing consciousness.
The dark closed in on him . . .
Monday
April 8, 2013 — Early Morning
Overcast
Shou's eyes shot open.
Sweat soaked his back, making his shirt cling to him. Birds sang outside his window.
How long had he been out?
Shou grabbed his phone, which lay on the bed beside him. He checked the time. 0707. He had slept through dinner, and then the entire night. He must have been more tired than he'd originally thought.
The dregs of the nightmare tickled Shou's mind.
Had he forgotten something important, again? First the Velvet Room, and now that strange subway tunnel . . . What was it the voice had said to him? There was something he had to carry, some burden only he was strong enough to hold . . .
He shook his head. Crazy dream stuff. Nothing more.
Swiftly, he went through his drawers. He laid out a school uniform, his schedule, and the textbooks he needed for the day. He was going to be prepared. He meant to show that he was worthy of being at the Morigami Academy.
A new school year was about to begin.