Chapter 13

Laying Dormant

The only torch in the surrounding tranquility came from a faint blue glow in the corner of the room. Focused eyes scanned the words quickly and each time Fuuka read it, each time her mind seemed to beckon to uncover the hazy trail of Minato's files. She tried her best not to feel like this was a hopeless chase. Nothing.

Considering the technology level back then, maybe Minato's files was lost to history. Maybe they were lost with his parents. Maybe they were never inputted in the national database to begin with.

Feeling a little tired, Fuuka changed into a more comfortable position, balancing her laptop on her knee as she sat against the secluded aisle of the school library's wall. It was a dismal day and try as her might, two hours of searching and she found nothing. She didn't make any progress. The sun arched, tipping and shifting to allow dusk into existence. Restless now, Fuuka packed her laptop and ready to leave the school.

Once she reached the hallway, a crowd formed in front of the shoe rack, comparing photo shoots to each other. She thought that she was the last to leave, seeing that the sundown has reached its peak. Fuuka avoided them, going roundabout to her locker. She walked faster, but a dizzy spell hit her and she leaned on the sturdy wood, hoping that the crowd didn't notice.

She grimaced at the oncoming pain. The dull thud from the back of her head resonated with the mingling voice.

"...What's wrong?" a quiet concern approached her and amongst the painful waves of headache, Fuuka recognized it as Minato's voice. A cold, steady hand fixed on her shoulder, "I'm okay... Minato-kun," she replied wearily. Maybe she was coming down with a flu. But coming to the hospital is a pain and she'd rather spend her time coped in her room with her laptop. She saw Minato craned his neck and called someone over.

" Ah, Yamagishi-san. Just in time, I was going to ask you to join our club." a tuft of familiar brown hair approached her field of vision and the bespectacled boy regarded her with the scrutinizing attention she was unused to. "Are you okay?"

"Just a little headache, Keisuke-senpai..." she appreciated the question but the headache intensified in time.

"No, no! No can do. We should determine the cause of your headache and diagnose it now," he said sternly and the crowd's attention shifted to her. So much for avoiding detection.

A girl closest to their position sighed, "Give it up, Yamagishi. Keisuke-senpai's at it again." She said boredly, as if used to his action. Not knowing what to do, Fuuka stood still while the Photography Club leader prodded and padded around her, touching the sides of her head before a pressure to the back of her head made Fuuka winced painfully. Minato observed sympathetically on the sideline.

"Hmm, you are most likely to suffer from chronic-tension type headache. Did you spend many times in front of the computer?"

"Huh? O-Oh, y-yeah, I just did," she mumbled, understanding the cause.

"Now that we have found the cause of your headache, we should treat it to the hospital. Today's not my dad's work shift so I'd ask our Brain Surgeon to check on you," Keisuke nodded assuredly, as if it was a normal thing to ask a surgeon to treat a headache.

"...?!" the club members around them groaned and Fuuka wanted no part in knowing how often Keisuke treated his own club members like this.

"On second thought, I'll call the limousine to pick us up to the hospital to treat your headache. The ride will be much, much smoother..."

Alarmed, Fuuka said hurriedly, "U-uh, that's okay. I'm fine! My dorm is close by and my dorm mate Minato-kun is—"

Fuuka turned to Minato for help. The teen had disappeared from the crowd unnoticed.

Later that day, Fuuka had to cover her face from their dorm's neighbor as she was dropped off from the sleek, shiny black limousine.

When she opened her bag to retrieve her laptop, a Photography Club Member Card nested inside along with a small bag of medicine. She smiled.


"...Hey, I'm sorry I called on short notice," baritone voice called from the phone. Minato hummed, letting the person took over the conversation. "I still have practice for the upcoming regional tournament and Shinji said that he have something to take care of." Akihiko's tired voice carried over.

"Can you pick Miki up from her job? Miki should be in the Chagall Cafe right now, her shift would end at 8 pm. You're not busy, right?"

Minato crossed the street, a hand in the pocket as he obserbed the busy night life of this artificial island. Paulownia Mall just right in the front of his eyes, "I was with Fuuka, she got sick but it's okay."

The Field Leader smiled, "I left earlier, Keisuke-senpai will take care of her. Fuuka needs to meet more people other than us."

Akihiko's voice sounded surprised, "Keisuke Hiiraga? The son of Kirijo Hospital's director?"

"Yeah,"

"Huh, small world." Akihiko chuckled amusedly. "Well, don't be late. And don't you dare flirting on her!"

A sigh. "You're a chronic siscon, Senpai." Minato ended the call before he can hear Akihiko's retort.


It's difficult being famous. The man can hardly walk around without being recognized. Sure, he's the favourite of housewives all around Japan and the best friend of their pockets, but he can do without their children ganging up on him singing that blasted headache-inducing Jika-Net Tanaka song while their moms asked his autograph. He didn't know what prompted him to chose that song as the jingle of his show.

Mr. Tanaka sipped his Sumatran Coffee, his designer Armani suits and tie changed into a casual polo shirt and slack pants. Night was the only time he's not swamped with promotion and business exchanges.

With a cheery ring, the cafe's door opened and a handsome young man entered. Hmm, he'll be perfect for the company's image. But he still wore his school uniform.

Tch, his mother would've pulled his ear when he dared to go out in his uniform rather than helping out to sell his mother's handicraft. Youngsters nowadays had it lucky. Who's his parents? They didn't even know how to instill discipline on their son!

A waitress approached the young man. He talked in a familiar way to her and she took him to an empty table. He was left on his own as the girl scurried back to the kitchen. He pulled a book from his bag and began reading after she delivered a steaming coffee to his table.

That waitress was a peculiar one, Mr. Tanaka thought. She wore a more conservative uniform with buttons up till her neck while the other waitresses wore skimpier uniforms to attract more tips from their patrons. She was cute, though. Maybe that's her only saving grace. What was that style called? Loli? Goth?

He decided that he didn't understand teenagers.

But he moved up from his table, anyway. There's something about the young man that seemed hidden, the rough texture of a diamond yet to be discovered. And if he takes this young man under his wing, Mr. Tanaka can train him into a perfect cut of a masterpiece. A tool he can use to further the business, just like everything and everyone else that had crossed his path. A mere naive young man can't be any different.

"What are you reading?" Mr. Tanaka set his coffee in front of this stranger with a winning business smile on his face. The first to attack is the winner. He didn't have any interest in his choice of reading material, though. Nothing can be really surmised from books. Experience speaks louder, anyway.

Unfazed grey eyes looked up but a keen sense of wrongness engulfed them. The young man seemed off, unusual even. Blankness instantly covered his facade, like a well-trained guards. Smooth voice replied, "Nothing important."

Mr. Tanaka glanced flatly, a polite smile still in place. "Well, let me tell you something. Those books are frustratingly uninformative. Experience is more important in this world. That's how I succeed in the first place," he said confidently and a small but quickly hidden spark of recognization appeared in the young man's eyes.

"You're a businessman," he stated a fact, not a question.

"You should've seen me once or twice in your TV," the middle-aged man grinned.

The young man closed his book, full attention on the businessman. "That annoying jingle couldn't be more memorable," Ah, someone else agreed with him. The teen gained more points in his favour.

"I see a diamond in you. How about it? How would you like to have your dream comes true? ...I have a golden opportunity for you," Mr. Tanaka leaned on his cushion as he intertwined his fingers. Business always came off as easy as breathing.

"I could make it worth your while." He offered. A coy smile pasted on this nameless young man's face, "...I'm afraid I don't swing that way, Mr. Tanaka," he replied with all seriousness, but he hid an amused smile behind his hand. This kid... He can't be more infuriating.

"Pure business," Mr. Tanaka gritted out through closed teeth.

The elusive young man hummed exasperatingly, as if it was just an innocent, harmless misinterpretation. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit dull," the teen mused.

"It doesn't matter," Mr. Tanaka said, sounding as sincere as ever, like treating a potential customer although his temper had flared a bit. This slightly intelligent young man grated on his bad side, but more intrigued than irritated.

"What's your name?" Mr. Tanaka asked, starting from basic information.

"Makoto Yuki,"

Oh, he's good. No oral fixation, no conversational pause, no loss of eye contact, or bobbed his knees. Two can play at this game.

Mr. Tanaka gestured with his hands, speaking condescendingly "People don't usually lie about their own name, brat."

The young man's mouth quirked up a bit this time, "How did you know?"

"You blinked. I've been in this business for years, you can't defeat me," he added with a smug smirk. Ha! Eat that.

Their conversation came to a stop as that peculiar waitress approached their table, now changed into her school uniform.

The teen across him said, "There you are, let's go home." He returned his book and finished his cooled coffee in one go.

The young man stood up, "My name is Minato Arisato. Thank you for your time, Mr. Tanaka." Minato returned to his polite facade and walked away. The girl bowed respectfully to him and left with a smile.

"Damn kid," Tanaka muttered to himself, feeling annoyed although he had practically won the verbal argument.

Before he left, though, that cheeky brat stopped on his track and touched his own chest. Tanaka could swear that he saw the teen's chest glowed.

Maybe he's getting old. Age factor does that to people... right?

Minato looked back, a sincere smile directed to the businessman "...Nice to meet you."


The midnight-haired teen was silent through the walk back to the dorm. Miki's steps padded a few pace behind him and he was glad for the distance. The pure, unadulterated envy was still there, muddling his judgments and he didn't really want a repeat of what trascended in the common room. Seeing those three huddled close to each other brought putrid, ugly emotions within him that he's ill-equipped to recognize.

Funny, humans would want things they didn't have.


Came the next day, Minato was about to join Kazushi and pick up his Kendo equipment when the scarlet-haired President suddenly entered their homeroom. "Mind if I interrupt?" the mature girl looked grim, an incoming news to their development.

"Aww, man. Looks like you'll be busy, then." Kazushi sighed, leaning on his good leg as he held his bamboo sword.

The walk back to the dorm should take about an hour... "I should still be available for a match, how about that?" Minato bargained, eyeing Yukari and Junpei who had grouped near Mitsuru. They're waiting.

A chuckle, "Deal," with a fistbump to his shoulder, Kazushi left the classroom and waved at Junpei. Minato watched the exchange and soon joined the three who formed a circle around his seat.

"Let's continue. Mr. Chairman just called me this morning that he'll be stopping by this evening. Come back as soon as possible and go to the briefing room on the 4th floor." She said promptly.

"Huh? Well, okay..." Yukari replied for them and a faint smile adorned the colder exterior of Mitsuru's facade. "I'll see you all later, please don't be late." She turned around and leave their homeroom. Her poise undeterred.

Junpei whistled, "Damn, Kirijos are so different. Think Yuka-tan would have one third of Mitsuru-senpai's grace?" he asked with a smirk, no wonder to rile Yukari up. The boy's boldness sure knows no boundary.

God help us.


A refreshing kind of pain engulfed his torso. The kind of pain you got from sport and fighting with nothing to lose. Kazushi managed to hit him twice but he still won, anyway. The coach observed them like a hawk, no question noticing Kazushi's awkward angle and he wondered if he have to tell the coach about Kazushi's injury. But there was a clear passion different from what he used to see in Kazushi's eyes.

It used to be all about winning and losing.

It was hot outside, a sign that the rain will come a little while later or maybe tonight. The pain had subsided by the time he and Junpei reached the dorm. Even though he told the energetic Magician that he had a Kendo match and Junpei can go to their dorm first, he found the teen at the front gate, waiting. Junpei had opted to hung his creased uniform shirt over his shoulder. As they neared the entrance, they saw Fuuka and Yukari playing with a dog. Patting its head and cooed over it. Even the dog seemed to be bothered by all the attention. They noticed the boys.

"Finally you're here," Yukari greeted them first. "Hi, everyone," Fuuka stood from her crouch, a hand still patting the dog.

Surprisingly, Junpei recognized the dog. "Heey, Koro, my boy! Long time no see," he crouched and patted the cemented ground below him and the white shiba-inu rushed to Junpei's side happily, licking the boy's cheek with fervor.

"Woof! Woof!" it frolicked energetically.

"You know him, Junpei-kun?" Fuuka asked, eyes straying from the dog to Junpei.

"Heh, well. It's a boring story, girls. Just the meeting between a man and a dog." Junpei casted out his arm for emphasis and Fuuka laughed, the very image of a well-mannered and vulnerable girl. No trace of the commissioned hacker who got through Kirijo's database defense at 12 years old.

"We met in front of the convenience store, that's all. Then, this really talkative hag passed by and told me that Koro used to belong to the priest at the shrine. The priest died from a hit-and-run, though." The dog nuzzled Junpei's leg and gave a sad whimper.

"It looks like Koro goes for a walk everyday just like when his owner was alive, huh? No wonder we just met again." Junpei rubbed behind its ears.

"Cheesy," Yukari offered a smile.


Summer rain trickled down through the large windows, pelting against the wind and kissed the earth while the rumbling thunder became a noise that raptured the bleak sky. Luckily, the Chairman came just before the drizzle turned into a heavy rain. Tired bags formed under his eyes but the almost gleeful expression on the man's face told him otherwise. Ikutsuki can't even hide his giddiness, grinning and becoming lost in his own world. A news of their development must be in order, then, Minato thought as he brought the Chairman to the Briefing Room. Everyone stood up from their respective seats upon their arrival.

"Ah, good night, everyone," he motioned them to sit down with his free hand, eager to start.

They observed Ikutsuki curiously as he set his messenger bag on the table. But rather than a complicated device or a laptop, the man pulled out a deck of cards.

The sudden increase of his heartbeat confounded Minato.

Ikutsuki shuffled the cards and spread them, twelve distinctive cards in reverse position showcased before them. The giddiness disappeared from the Chairman's face, replaced by a morbid interest of a fascinated researcher. The man who spoke to them was someone who spent his years to unravel the secrets of humanity's threat.

"I was going to show you the original graph and Probability Scheme I came up with, but those might be difficult to follow. I decided these cards will be simpler instead," and one by one, he flipped up the cards to their upright positions.

"Magician, Priestess, Empress, Emperor, Hierophant, Lovers, Chariot, Justice, Hermit, Fortune, Strength and Hanged Man," engrossed in the tight grip of his fascination, Ikutsuki glanced up to the teenagers that encircled him. "I want you all to listen closely,"

"The founding principle of SEES is to eradicate Shadows that has been a threat to human's subconsciousness. Your experiences in Tartarus are what ultimately enables me to find out the characteristics of the Shadows." He started.

"As you fought in Tartarus, I had been collecting the characteristics of the Shadows. Dividing them and categorizing them. You are the frontliners, so you must've known for a while what differentiate Shadows from each other. These... are called battle data." The steel-rimmed glasses focused on each of them, dragging them to an unknown territory from what should've been just about defeating the Shadows that stood in their ways.

"It's their masks... Right?" Yukari added uncertainly. Ikutsuki leaned back, giving them a sudden grin.

"Ah, as expected of his daughter. You're absolutely right, Takeba." Yukari clenched her hands on the end of her skirt, uncomfortable silence curiously veiled by traces of obscurity. Mitsuru casted her glance away, her expression unreadable.

Clearing his throat, Ikutsuki uncapped an ink marker he found within his bag. He marked an 'X' to the first four cards in the table. "And as Yukari said, Shadows can be classified according to their masks. These four cards belongs to arcanum I to IV, because however different they may be from the usual Shadows, the same classification scheme still applies. They represent those Special Shadows you fought on each full moon. So, from now we shall code them as Full Moon Shadows,"

With a sweep, he eliminated the first four cards from the table, leaving out eight cards in their stead. Like a mere pawns that has served their purpose.

"Huh... If there are eight cards here, then are there more eight big Shadows out there?" Shinjiro who was silent through the entire discussion examined the cards, giving his two cents. A feral grin made its way to Akihiko's face, "Well, you should hurry up and get better already if you want to bash them up."

His best friend huffed, "That's my intention."

"Okay, then. Any question?" Ikutsuki pulled up his right leg to his knee, a hand dusting unseen dirt from his pants. A patient smile etched onto his face.

"Oh, uh, what are they after?" Junpei asked quickly, like an addendum to the scrambled mess of information.

"I'm glad you have the interest, Iori. That's what we haven't figured out yet, their motive. They didn't kill their victims, although obliteration of consciousness seems like the more likely answer. Well, as time pass, we hope that we can find out more about the nature of Shadows." Ikutsuki actually considered his answer.

Hopelessly clutching on to some strands of a vague truth, Yukari whispered. "But what about Tartarus? Why does it even exist?"

No one can answer it for her.


Everyone left the room feeling more perplexed than enlightened, even Mitsuru. Disengaging himself from the strenuos discussion, Akihiko looked up to find that the Briefing Room was nearly empty save for him and the Chairman. The man examined the cards closely, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

The Golden Boy stood up to leave the man with his own thought.

"Akihiko," he stopped upon hearing his name to regard the Chairman.

"...Have you consider it? As it stands with our current situation, I think your sister would agree." Ikutsuki calmly sipped his coffee, the steam blurred the lenses.

Akihiko looked back, a dark chuckle accompanied the rising anger steeped within his chest. He lowered his voice, signs of warning clearly seen in his eyes. They were the eyes of someone who would kill to protect.

"I'll kill you first before you even think of using Miki."


Examining the sleeping face of her marred figure, he took hold of her hand, knowing that she would hear him within the dark.

"I won't let you fight. Never."


The muffled sound of various instruments played out and a loud voice boomed, telling the new members to stand in line. Miki stared at him. Mouth set into a thin line. Her features stood still within his reach but misty eyes fixed on what transcended beyond the door.

"Culture club recruitment, huh?" He smiled. "You're a better singer than them, you know. You used to sing for the charity events in the orphanage and many parents wanted to adopt you." He reminisced distantly. "But I and Shinji wouldn't let them have our little sister so easily. You remember? They ran away when they saw Shinji's Glare of Doom" He added with a laugh and he felt a tug on his shirt.

Miki's fingers latched into his shirt, longing invested in those thin digits as she listened to the singer and he can only watch her succumb to an irreparable condition. Her side profile made his eyes stung with a blurry mozaic, a ruined shell of the child that was -and still- his pillar of strength.

She used to hold his hand on her right and Shinji's on her left but she barely did that anymore, preferring to hide away as if she's a deadweight that burdened them. Her survival itself was a mere chance.

If Shinji didn't push the cupboard that fell on her, she would've...

The first few years after the fire in the orphanage was hard. Miki's damaged body was charred and the festering burns spread through the skin, expanding from her neck to the thighs. It destroyed the nerves on her neck, the blunt force trauma ebbed her voice away. The lulling voice that used to deliver them to slumber was gone, it fades like the light withdrawing from the darkness.

The blisters on her mid-section were soon filled with abscess. The blackened skin and wet scabs made the smell of dried blood revolting. His child self didn't do anything to stop her cry each time it hurts, afraid that the skin would break with the slightest touch. He'd leapt angrily to anyone who dared to mock that she's ugly. Shinji would send a glare that made them shaking like fallen leaves but didn't say anything. Always calmer than he was.

It was just the three of them. Everyone else didn't matter.

"C'mon, rehab time. Dr. Sonomura said that she misses you. Shinji's waiting at the gate." Akihiko smiled at the thin fingers that relied on him and gripped them. The realness of their warmth seeped through his knuckles. As long as she's there, he won't have to give up.

"Once you can speak again... When you can sing in front of a crowd again... You'll be the solo singer for our Graduation Ceremony." He heard himself said, letting a small ounce of hope escaped through the fissure. He strolled onward, not noticing the beginning of a smile on Miki's face. Shinji joined them on the front gate and held her left hand, with a smile he hid as he glanced sideway.

And for the first time in ten years, they returned to the safety of each other's hands.


Author Note:

Personally, I'm very satisfied with this chapter. It's a chapter I spent more time to write and I can only humbly thank the readers for your continuous support despite my random update schedule. Recently I watched the Gangsta anime and I fall in love immediately with the two main characters. It's kinda rare nowadays to find an anime that I like since the first episode. I'm thinking of making a Death Note with Gangsta AU fic. I'm drooling from the image of L as a Twilight badass samurai and Light as his contract holder XDD

Anyways, thank you for reading :D