The Ziggurat of Babylon Part 1

*

Akihiko was in a daze. He can recall placing the gun, no, Evoker… the fake gun in the opening of his sports bag and zipping it partway. He got out of the double doors of the gym and wandered out of the building and treaded on muted, brown grass. He stared at the ground before him as he walked, tracing the lines of cracks in the sidewalk and the small explosions of weeds mingling with the newborn grass in the dirt. Snippets of their conversation floated in and out of his mind like a revolving door in a hotel, going out and bringing back the memories like guests who couldn't decide if they want to stay or not.

Dust motes that floated around red hair. A request. Enemies that need defeating. A gun blinding him from the glare of a window. Dark Hour. Apathy Syndrome. A person who stopped traffic. Hiro standing in the hallway, the center of attention, but not attentive anymore.

Before he knew it, he was at the school gate and looked back behind him. The sun was setting behind the building, sharply contrasting the shadows on its walls and the glare from the windows. He wondered if that girl, what was her name… Kirijo, right. He wondered if that Kirijo girl was still inside the building or if she had already left.

Kirijo... Akihiko turned his head away in thought, looking at the swaying trees with various hints of leaves in their branches. The Kirijo Group had funded the construction of Gekkoukan High School, the school he had been interviewed by. He wondered if she was connected to them, if that Kirijo girl, Mitsuru, was affiliated with a business mogul that funded the school's formation. She looked affluent, so is she a direct relation? Was this all some sort of conspiracy? An elaborated lie? He wondered idly if he was being punk'd and that this was some sort of end-of-the-year prank conducted by the Student Council or whatever leadership group that this school may have had that he didn't pay attention to. He couldn't possibly believe that he entered a time in which the entire world had people turn into coffins and electronic devices went kaput if he hadn't experienced it himself, an experience which was, apparently, shared by other people. Which also, apparently, contained monsters.

Akihiko scowled wearily and made a half-hearted roll of the eyes. Damn, was he tired. He made it a point to go to bed before midnight, since he didn't particularly want to experience a period of disturbing loneliness, but when he did accidentally stayed up till midnight, which he had last night, he couldn't go to sleep. He rarely strayed out of his room during that time, but he couldn't sleep no matter how still he laid or how quiet the normally rambunctious dorm was, because he would have that nagging, prickling feeling in the back of his head that there might be imminent danger roaming about.

Akihiko felt a slight shudder down his spine. He couldn't imagine what would happen if he was outside during the, what did she call it…? The Dark Hour. It would probably be the freakiest thing he'd ever experienced.

A sudden thought jolted him from his weariness, a thought that sent him reeling.

Wait, he thought. Why'd I let her leave? Now he was filled with all these questions and playing outrageous scenarios in his mind, but back then he was so dumbstruck during their discussion and the revelation that followed that when he thought about it, really thought about it, he didn't think he'd ever asked anything useful to his situation. And in his shock, she just handed him a fake gun and waltzed on out of here like some climactic scene in a movie without further ado. Neatly out of the picture like turning the next page in a book.

Akihiko curled his lips in a grimace and let out a guttural moan. He hung his head in intense frustration. At least she told him what classroom she's in, he thought dimly, calming him a bit. But right now he's feeling a bit pissed-off.

"Hey, Sanada!"

Akihiko turned back at the person addressing him. He saw the boxing captain Matsui along with the team manager Kazuma approaching, having apparently dispersed the girls away from them.

"Man, it was such a drag chasing them away," Kazuma exclaimed. "You know, if I find myself being unattracted to girls my age, it'll be all your fault."

Akihiko rolled his eyes. "I'm not responsible for your actions, especially if it involves the police. Anyway, why are you guys still here?"

Matsui threw back his head and exclaimed loudly, his hands placed indignantly at his hips. "Haaaah?! Don't tell me you've back out on your offer!"

Akihiko eyed him quizzically.

"Sanada, after going through all that trouble of deceiving people, getting clawed at, and being thrown against the wall by an old man in front of a bunch of girls, I was up to here-," he gestured with his hand at shoulder-length," – with my patience with you from being manhandled by strangers and pampering the star boxer. But, I plowed through the day, stalwart and tall, because I was backed by the promise of Hagakure ramen from your wallet. But since you've apparently forgotten that promise, don't expect any more favors from me, your captain, in the future whether it be by a horde of girls or annoying reporters grabbing every article of your person."

"Hey, hey," Akihiko said, becoming slightly unnerved by the tirade. "I really do appreciate everything you do for me, and I will treat you to a Hagakure bowl. I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Well, you did look like you were spacing out when we saw you. How long have you been standing there, anyway?" Kazuma asked. Then, he put a hand to his mouth. "Uh-oh."

"What?" asked Matsui. Kazuma loomed over at Akihiko, examining him closely.

Akihiko, feeling his personal bubble being invaded, bended away from the movement. "What are you doing?"

"Hey Ak-kun," Kazuma began. "You didn't get hit on the head too hard, did you?"

Akihiko shifted his eyes in thought. "…I don't think so," he replied uncertainly.

Kazuma backed off, rubbing his forehead in thought. "I mean, you did go off against that yeti from our rival school, and he was fighting dirty in the ring –again- but you didn't look like you were having any problems afterwards. And while I'm at it: what took you so long in the gym? We were kind of wondering where you were when we led the girls and that guy away."

"Oh, uh…" Akihiko looked away, wondering how he should tell them. "I was held up by someone…" he said vaguely.

"What, we missed one or something? I thought we rounded up all the fans…" said Kazuma.

"Dude, you sounded like we were talking about sheep," Matsui interjected.

"I always see them more as… chickens, the way they're always squawking. Or geese, since they're violent."

"I was held up by a girl," Akihiko persisted, not being deterred from his train of thought. "But she just wanted to talk to me, that's all. Er… She, hm. She wanted me to join something…" he mumbled.

Matsui raised both his eyebrows incredulously. "What, you got solicited by a club recruiter? At this late in the game? That's really weird. What club?"

"It's not a club. She wanted a favor from me."

"What kind of favor?" asked Kazuma.

"….Can't say."

Kazuma and Matsui looked at each, lost, then suddenly the light of understanding dawned them. "Ohhhhhh…" They chuckled and grinned wickedly.

Akihiko scowled at them. "What?" he asked irritated.

"Do we know the girl?" Matsui leered.

"Huh? Well… her name was Mitsuru Kirijo."

Both boys stood still, as if not registering what they heard. The wind whistled distantly. Matsui unfroze his leer. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Mitsuru Kirijo."

Matsui blinked while Kazuma looked hard into the distance. Suddenly both started and threw up their arms.

"WHAAAAAAT?!"

**

"You're killing me, Sanada," Matsui said in between mouthful of noodles. "I mean, I know you're dedicated and all in our team, but how could you not know the most popular girl in school?"

"Or haven't heard of her?" Kazuma interjected, slurping a noodle into his mouth.

Akihiko glared both of them darkly. "All right, all right, I admit it. I don't know anything except my right and left fist. Now can you get off my case for just one minute and let me eat?" He took a great helping of noodles and shoved them through his mouth, a small spattering of soup hitting the polished counter.

"Fine, but you should at least know what you're in for, since Kirijo's got her eyes on you." Matsui cleared his throat, like a lofty college professor about to share his great findings, and gave a grand erudition of Mitsuru Karaj's statistics, gesturing his chopsticks like a pointer.

"Mitsuru Kirijo, third year, class of 3-B. While our school is by no means run of the mill, she surprised our sophomore class by transferring from what many had assumed to be a very highly regarded private school far away from the small hamlet of Iwatodai…"

"Matsui, why are you talking like that? You're beginning to sound like our Literature teacher."

"Well, she is really funny to imitate," admitted Matsui. "Anyway, so she transferred here when we were in our second year and all we knew about her then was that she's the only daughter of the Kirijo Group's CEO. You know, the same company that built Gekkoukan High?"

Oh, yeah… Akihiko agreed to himself again. He didn't really think about the company whose name was subliminally ingrained in his mind. He only thought of his prospects, like high school. Suddenly, he's beginning to not like the fact that he may be getting involved with the doings of high society. Something which he probably could not avoid being entangled with.

"Since then, she's been involved in Student Council, and she's also the Treasurer this year. I'm not surprised if she has the makings to be a school president, though if you ask me, it won't just be because of her reliability. I mean, being a rich man's daughter seems like a pretty big chip on her shoulder. But you know, she's kind of… out there," Matsui said vaguely.

"Well, yeah," responded Kazuma, "I mean, a girl like her has got to be around people around her level, like celebrity kids or something. And we're just a bunch of kiddy peasants watching fearfully at the fickle feudal lord."

"That's not what I meant… well, not entirely. I mean, she's like she's on a whole different level than us, like mentally. I mean, I kind of find it hard to picture her as one of us."

"Oh, that's just dumb," said Akihiko, setting his chopsticks on the rim of the bowl. "I can kinda, sorta see what you mean, but I don't think she's unapproachable or something." Creepy, maybe, thought Akihiko.

"Are you joking?" Kazuma exclaimed. "The way she walks, the way she talks… she's like a princess out of a fairy tale, waiting for her knight to come and be her shield and sword!"

"…You're watching too many dramas, man," Matsui said bluntly. "I think she's more like a queen, and not just any ol' broad who's like eye-candy… or a trophy wife, yeah, that's the word," he added. "I mean like a Queen Elizabeth-queen. The kind who's going to stand up to a fleet of ships if her country's in danger. She's hella smart, you know," he said to Akihiko. "She's the top of the class ever since she came here. Compared to her, we're like single-cell organisms."

Akihiko cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Well, I guess you've elevated to a prime-ape or that caveman who've discovered fire, Sanada, since your scores aren't too bad. But even so, I bet she's going to marry some prick from a big-shot university. Heck, maybe from America."

"Canada or Mexico? Because technically America is one big continent."

"You and your stupid political correctness, Kazuma."

Akihiko leaned forward and took his cell phone out of his back pocket. When he left school, it was around 5:15. Now it's just after seven o'clock. He should get back to the dorm for curfew, and telling Shinji what had transpired. He eyed his companions' bowls, noting that they seemed finished, and asked the chef for the check.

"Oh yeah, thanks for treating us, Sanada," Matsui said, gratefully.

"I remembered saying that I would only treat you, Matsui," Akihiko insinuated.

"A-hem, who's the one washing your gym shorts and everyone else's?" Kazuma demanded. "Matsui? No, he's busy throwing his weight around. Who does the logistics of this team? You? You're busy smashing noses in. Oh wait… I think it's me."

"Fine," sighed Akihiko.

"Still, Akihiko," Matsui said wistfully. "You're pretty lucky. Being the breadwinner to our motley crew and placing a decent seat in the academic circle are great assets for babe-magnets. And you just attracted the richest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the entire school. That's kind of like a match made in heaven."

"I'm not dating her; in fact, I just met her, so I don't know anything about her."

"But even so, successful people belong to successful people, I guess," continued Matsui, as though he didn't hear his breadwinner talking. "Well, I wish you a happy future. I'm off to find happiness in my own way so I won't cry to my pillow every night." Matsui rose from the barstool and stretched. He put on his school coat and hefted his backpack over his shoulder. "Well, I gotta jet, guys. My parents' are saving dessert for me, so I gotta be there or else my little sister's gonna steal it."

"Yeah, see you Matsui. It's been a great being in the boxing team with you," said Akihiko, getting up from his seat and facing the captain.

"Hey-hey-hey," warned Matsui. "It's not the end of the year yet, Sanada. Our official good-bye party's next month, then we'll be able to say good-bye to each other."

"Likewise," Kazuma piped in, hopping down from his barstool. "Well, it's been real guys."

Outside the restaurant, both manager and captain took to the opposite sides of the street, leaving Akihiko to walk ahead through the crosswalk on his way to the train station. He shifted his hand around for his wallet in his sports bag, and paused when he saw the Evoker gleaming dully in the murky yellow of the streetlight. He stopped looking and let his bag sag around his shoulder. He was able to let the grim matters from the remains of the day linger in the back of his mind when he was with his friends, but now that he was out of the warmth of the restaurants and from good company, those thoughts slunk forward, weighing his forehead down in a concerned scowl and settled in a slightly squeamish churn in his stomach.

He sighed and looked around, feeling restless. He rolled his shoulders in agitation before finally, with steadfast resolution, he thrust his hand back into his bag, fished out his wallet, paid for his fare, and walked into the train.

Maybe he should talk to Shinji. He's the only one who suspects what might be going on, since he was very freaked out with his apparent teleportation from his room to the outside break room from a few days before, and maybe drag him along into whatever conspiracy that Akihiko waltzed into. God knows, it would be great to have such a stalwart friend as someone to confide into for whatever it is that would come.

**

"Hey, Akihiko-san! Aragaki left me a message for you. He said that he's going to the arcade to blow off steam and wants you to haul ass over there as soon as you get back."

Akihiko slumped his head and heaved an agitated sigh.

"Damn you, Shinji," he muttered under his breath.

So he dumped his scholarly luggage unceremoniously in their room, then after careful consideration, dumped out his gym bag and grabbed an old black backpack that once belonged to Shinji before his friend decided it was easier to just bring a binder and a notebook to school. He placed his wallet in it, and with careful fingers, gingerly placed the Evoker into the backpack. Heaven forbid if anyone snuck into his room and started rifling through his stuff. And he didn't really think he could talk about it with Shinji in this dorm anyway, because one would never know if the dorm manager started poking his nose in to check on things at the wrong time.

He walked through the double glass doors of the dorm, feeling very conspicuous and suspicious of the guys in the common room, as if at every glance at the boxer and in every tone of their voices, he could sense their suspicion of him and start thinking that something wasn't quite right. Afterall, he doesn't normally leave the dorm with a backpack or anything like that to some casual meeting with his longtime friend.

Akihiko rubbed his neck wearily, kneading out the growing knots and tension in his muscles. He felt like he was sneaking something illegal from his room, which would seem like the truth if the gun wasn't a phony.

Damn that Kirijo, he thought impulsively. While it was immature to place the blame on someone he doesn't even know personally, he's beginning to resent the position he's in. When he really thought about it, he could live not knowing why he's going through a period where everything gets dark and blood starts seeping through the walls. He doesn't really need to be outside when that happens, so it would be unlikely that he would encounter any danger that would involve using a (fake) gun for protection. He could even sleep through it, and nothing bad happened to him in the next morning.

But he found himself not liking that idea at all, and really, really began to resent his life at the moment. After the shock of seeing coffins standing ominously in the streets in the first couple of nights, Akihiko calmed himself down and assessed the situation. He was, at the time, alone, surrounded by morbid imagery, and bereft of working modern technology. He wanted to know what's happening to him, and by thunder he better start getting some answers.

Of course, when the answers start presenting themselves to him, he found himself wishing that he kind of didn't know.

He cut through the park as a shortcut to the train station. Darkness began to deepen in the sky and the moths drift restlessly around streetlights and a slight wind began to rustle the bushes. Akihiko looked around him. He was probably the only one in the park at this time, when he checked on his wrist as 8:13, and he felt it through the lonely sounds of his shoes on the path and the low murmur of a nearby fountain.

Curious, he took off his backpack and reached for the Evoker in it. He held it in his hand, the way he thought that a gun should be held: the handle secure in his palm and his forefinger lying near the trigger. It felt slightly heavy. He examined the S. E. E. S. logo on the barrel and touched the slight metal tip that he presumed was the line of sight. He looked at it every which way, and when he looked at the hole where the presumed bullet would be, he quickly looked away from such the dangerous position, then reprimanded himself for doing so because the gun wasn't loaded and that it was fake.

Well, that's what she said, anyway.

He held it in his left hand, and then stretched it away from him like how he had seen many actors in movies did. He brought it back to him.

"So, it's fake…right?" he asked himself. "Huh."

He held it away from him again and pulled the trigger.

BAM!

He nearly dropped the gun at the harsh sound. Shaking, he quickly stuffed it in his backpack and fumbled with the zipper. He erratically closed it and as he swung the backpack over his shoulder, and took off running.

He sprinted until he was at the end of the park and in front of the train station, panting heavily. He held out an unsteady arm and braced himself against a lamppost.

WHAT THE HELL, he shouted in his head when he didn't have the breath to scream it out loud. His pulse boomed in his head and in his hand resting on the cold metal. He looked around wildly, wondering if there were many startled people who heard the sound. So far, everything seemed to be normal; there were no screaming or screeching of police cars in his ears, though he doesn't think he'll hear it since all he could hear was the loud explosion of the gun and many expletives he let lose in his mind that ran in tandem with his pulse. Vaguely, he wondered if there really was no ammo, but that didn't explain the sound, because he had watched a show on the history channel that specialized in guns and that the loud bang came from the air around the bullet at the moment the trigger was pulled and the bullet was propelled out of the barrel. So, why was there a bang?! It better be a very convincing sound effect because if it wasn't and he was lied to… and he stupidly pointed the gun ahead of him instead of up in the sky…

Akihiko turned sickly pale and lost all feeling in his face. He rejected the conclusion in his head.

He took deep breaths through his nose and tried to appear less distraught as he approached the ticket vendor.

As he shakily slipped a few yen coins in the slot and pressed the screen for his train ticket, he cursed to himself again.

Damn that Kirijo…

***

The glass doors of the arcade whooshed open upon his presence and Akihiko felt the arcade's escapist lifestyle flood into his ears and washed into his eyes as he submerged himself into blinking lights, bells and whistles from pinball machines, mechanized grunts and screams from the fighting consoles and the overlapping J-pop music from the dancing machines in the corner near the entrance. He sometimes go here to unwind with friends and maybe take a swing at the punching game which would give him prize tickets like no tomorrow, but he doesn't particularly like how afterward his senses would feel tired and drained due to being overstimulated by all the special effects, and truthfully he felt counter-productive by wasting his time in this place anyway.

He didn't have long to find Shinjiro anyway, because he pretty much walked right into his friend's path as the other was heading out the door.

"Aki," Shinjiro greeted loudly. "Took your sweet time. I was getting fed up waiting for you."

"Sorry 'bout that, Shinji," Akihiko shouted over the noise. "I got held up by someone at the gym and went out eating with the guys from the team."

"Forget about it, let's just get out and talk normally." Shinjiro turned Akihiko around and shoved him lightly through the door. Once outside, he took off his beanie and roved a hand through his matted hair. He unbuttoned his coat and flapped it a bit for air circulation. "Man, it gets hot in there after a while," he exclaimed. "So, congrats on your victory, as usual."

"Thanks, Shinji," Akihiko replied flatly.

Shinjiro tugged his beanie back on, his mouth frowned in puzzlement. "You okay, Aki? Normally a good fight would get you loosed up, but you look like crap. Of course if your face's busted up, then you can't help but look like crap, but you look peaky."

"Wha- oh, do I really look terrible?" Akihiko rubbed his forehead, surprised at how tense his brow felt. "Guess I'm still rattled," he muttered.

"About what?"

"Nothing." Shinjiro rolled his eyes at his friend. He looked around a bit, and then rested his eyes at the café ahead.

"Hey, you want to get a drink at Chagall's? I'm parched, and I'm thinking of trying that new brand of coffee they're selling."

"Sure, why not."

Shinjiro gave his friend another look, scrutinizing his not-so-average behavior. Akihiko seemed distracted and distant now, and it might be his imagination but his friend also looked really pale and clammy. He also noticed his old backpack slung over his friend's shoulder and Aki's grip on the straps. Shinjiro turned away and headed over to the café, friend in absent-minded tow. He scowled in concern.

Shinjiro pushed open the fancy doors and walked up to the counter where a girl in a uniform stood chatting with her co-worker. She immediately stopped talking and pressed a few buttons on the register, waiting for his order.

"A tall Pheromone Coffee for me and…" Shinji glanced at Akihiko, still looking slightly out of sorts. "…Something for the invalid. Like warm milk or something."

Akihiko scowled. "Very funny."

"Sorry, but we don't sell hot milk here," said the barista in a nasally voice.

"Tea, then," said Shinjiro. He took out his wallet and forked over the money over the counter. "Keep the change." He and Akihiko walked towards the end of the counter and stood waiting for their orders, doing nothing but blankly watching the other barista making their orders. Shinjiro gave an impatient sigh.

"All right, spill it," he blurted.

"Hm?" Akihiko roused himself out of his thoughts.

"Your attitude's bothering me. Are you going to tell me something or what?" Akihiko looked away and then back at Shinjiro. He didn't let up his piercing glare. Akihiko slouched his shoulders and gave in.

"Fine, but not here."

Both boys took their drinks and left the café, Shinjiro lifting the top of his coffee so that he could blow on in and Akihiko taking a few experimental sips and examining the little tag dangling from the cup that said "chamomile" in curly lettering. Akihiko jerked his head at the ally next to the police station. Once out of view, Shinjiro leaned against the brick wall, sipping his coffee and watching Akihiko pace in front of him restlessly. He would pause from time to time, open his mouth as if to speak, and then change his mind and continue pacing around the length of the alley. Shinjiro found it slightly humorous, but his patience was wearing thin.

Finally, Akihiko stopped, turned around to face Shinjiro and took a deep, preparing breath.

"Okay… Okay," he breathed, talking more to himself than to who he was supposed to address. "This may sound crazy… even weird…"

"You're… kind of acting like that, too," Shinjiro added.

"But it did happen to me, and I'm not making it up." Akihiko rubbed his hands nervously, cracking joints and holding his knuckles; tell-tale signs that something was really disturbing him. He moistened his lips. "So…" he began. "After my last match, I was getting my stuff and getting ready to go home with the guys- actually I was planning to eat out with them- but then I got held up again by a bunch of girls and some guy."

"A guy?" asked Shinjiro, somewhat incredulously.

"The only words I could describe him was a talent scout," explained Akihiko.

"For what, a show? I knew you could be a performing monkey, but I can kind of see why you'd be weirded out."

"He wanted me to jump ship and enroll in his school," Akihiko corrected irritably. "A second-placed school at that, but that's not the weird thing. So after the girls and that guy got kicked out by Matsui and Kazuma, this… one girl waited up for me and approached me when I was alone. And she was the weird one."

Shinjiro shifted his eyes in thought. "How was she weird? Was she freakier than those girls who can't control themselves?"

"No. She's really calm. Scary calm."

"Psychopath, then?" Akihiko gave him a withering look. "Fine. Uh… did she act like a stalker?"

"No- well…" Akihiko folded his arms in thought, seeming to reconsider that statement. "She apparently knew a lot about me, so I guess she's kind of a stalker."

Shinjiro made a face, deep lines appearing on both sides of his nose as he grimaced. "I knew that you have admirers, but I didn't think you'd have devoted people… or person. That sort of thing doesn't happen to a fifteen year-old who's not a nationwide celebrity. I'd be very worried if I were you." Shinjiro took a pensive gulp of his drink. "She might be one of those people who'd say 'Go out with me or else I'll knife you in the back and kill myself.'"

Akihiko gaped in horror and then shut his eyes in frustration. "Great. Just keep adding things to my list of worries. Actually, that would be very serious if she's some kind of freak, but she's not. I didn't get that kind of feeling from her. She's kind of like… wait, I should just ask if you know who she is because from what I've been told everyone in our school knows about her."

"Um… okay?" Shinjiro looked past Akihiko's shoulder to think about what sort of person who would be both scary-stalkerish towards his friend and well-known in the entire school. He downed his drink in a mouthful.

"Do you know of a Mitsuru Kirijo?"

Shinjiro, after being hit by a thick wall of surprise, swallowed his mouthful too hard and ended up coughing and doubling over. Akihiko walked closer to his ailing friend out of concern, standing by in case he hyperventilates or something.

"Oh, then I guess you do," Akihiko said awkwardly, cracking his knuckles out of habit.

Shinjiro, now slightly wheezing, swallowed and said, rasping, "Are you telling me Mitsuru Kirijo's got the hots for you?"

"What?! No! That's not why she was there at all!"

Shinjiro straightened up, looked Akihiko straight in the eye, full of curiosity, demanded, "Well, what the heck would the school's richest chick, whose daddy is the CEO of Kirijo Electronics amongst other things, whose the #1 straight-A student of our grade and who even I have to admit is pretty easy on the eyes, want with a guy like you?"

Akihiko stared hard at Shinjiro, feeling mildly insulted and wanting to know what he meant by "a guy like you?", but let it slide. "Well, for your information, Shinji, she asked me for a favor," he haughtily replied.

"A favor?" echoed Shinjiro. Akihiko nodded. "Like what?"

Akihiko sighed and said flatly, "She said she has enemies that needed defeating."

Shinjiro was silent for a long time, then folded his arms and remarked, "Y'know, that makes it sound like she wants you to be a hitman or something. Or assassinate someone with a gun." He laughed a little, but became silent when met with Akihiko's stony face.

You don't know the half of it, thought Akihiko.

****

He started pacing in a line again, his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground. He had never brought up the incident in which Shinjiro found him outside their room after the Dark Hour had ended. He left their room that night primarily because he found it unnerving to be in the same room and at such close proximity with a glowing coffin that radiated the only source of light in the darkness, so he went outside thinking and twiddling his thumbs. He decided that it's now or never, and if Shinji dubbed him as crazy, well, at least it would be nice to talk about it and honestly he wouldn't care what his friend would do about it if he did believe him. Nothing would change except finding another sore spot for Shinji to use as leverage.

So he bit the bullet and told him the story. He began in a hesitant voice, disbelieving as though he could convince himself that everything that had happened to him was fictional. People turning into coffins? Laughable! Blood seeping from the walls? It could be a trick of the light masking the growing evolution of mildew crawling in corners. Saying all these things out loud, as though confirming himself that those things did happen, became harder and harder when he had to admit walking around in the dark, feeling his way around on the sticky walls, and witnessing Shinji walking out of their room and jumped in surprise when he found Akihiko there on the couch, apparently having teleported to that location from his bed within mere seconds. Very quickly, his jesting, embarrassed tone became much more serious when he mentioned that the Dark Hour and all that dwelled in it were directly connected to the fabled Apathy Syndrome that had plagued their childhood friend and caused panic throughout the school so close to the end of the year.

Shinji became silent when Akihiko finished. Akihiko watched his friend with a wary eye, trying to determine his response with every minute action of his friend's stony façade. Finally, Shinji took a long swallow of his coffee, crushed the cup in his hand, and sighed deeply, rubbing his brow with a beleaguered hand.

"So…" Shinji began slowly. Akihiko gave him an inquiring look. "So?" he echoed.

"The richest girl in school came up to you and asked you for a favor, told you about the 'Dark Hour,' about Apathy Syndrome, and just walked away." His statement brought back the feelings of ridiculousness.

"Well…" Akihiko trailed on. "She kind of… left me something?" Shinji expression became open with interest. "Really?"

"Yeah…. It's, uh, well let me show you." Akihiko pulled the backpack around and reached deep inside. His fingers touching the handle, he held it around the handle and gingerly pulled it out, not wanting to accidentally pull the trigger and produce an extremely suspicious and incriminating noise.

As soon as the shining gleam of the Evoker came out of the black backpack, Shinji jumped and pressed his back against the wall, alarmed. "Holy shit! Is that-?"

"It's not what you're thinking, and be quiet!" Akihiko cried in a hushed tone. "We're right next to a police station for god's sake!" Akihiko dropped it back in the backpack and looked around wildly. The police often start their beats at night, and it wouldn't do well to display something suspicious in public and right next to their base of operations.

"Well, you didn't have to pull it out in the open!" Shinji cried out indignantly. "And that looked like a goddamn weapon to me!"

"Shhhh!" Akihiko gestured for him to move farther into the alley, away from the openness of the mall. Shinji plopped himself next to a potted plant and glared at Akihiko for an explanation.

"Well, if it's not a gun, then what the hell is it?" he asked rudely.

"She called it an Evoker- I don't know why it's called an Evoker when it looks like a gun, so don't ask me about it," Akihiko said hastily, seeing Shinji about to speak. "She also said that it's not a real gun, despite what it looks like, Shinji, and that I'm supposed to know what I can do with it when the time comes, so right now I just have this when she gave it to me and left."

As he said that, coupled with Shinji's dark utter look of disbelief, he found himself thinking that what he had experienced was both the most profound moment and the most stupid-sounding moment that had ever taken place in his life.

"So let me get this straight, Aki. You claim that for the past couple weeks, you've had on and off encounters into a realm of darkness where there are no people and no electricity, and which may or may not contain beings called 'Shadows…'" Shinji made the "quote-unquote" sign with his fingers. "These 'Shadow' monster-alien-somethings are also directly responsible for the so-called Apathy Syndrome which unfortunately inflicted Hiro; and now this rich girl, who we would never talk to in our entire lives, comes up to you, hands you a… fake (?) gun and says, 'I have enemies that need defeating'?"

"Yes."

Shinji gaped at him, his mouth open in frozen bewilderment. He shook himself out of it and shoved his hands in his pockets in a very defiant manner.

"Well then. I think that you and your new girlfriend should go to the looney bin because I think this is the craziest shit I've ever heard coming from you- no, scratch that- that I've ever heard from anyone in my entire life."

Akihiko scowled at him and looked away in irritation, unsurprised at the response, but still feeling very annoyed. "Oh, I must be really out of my mind, Shinji, if I can even believe myself into thinking that those red stains that are on my shirt and pants come from the blood spewing out of the building. I really don't they're red ink stains, Shinji!"

"Well," laughed Shinji. "I still think that it's all bullshit."

"For crying out loud, why the hell would I just make up a story right here and right now if I wasn't actually telling the truth? I mean, how can you explain me 'teleporting' from my bed to the break room outside in, like, three seconds without you noticing me?"

Shinji was stumped, but turned away sharply in irritation.

"Huh… Whatever," he muttered.

"No, not 'whatever.' This is pretty damn serious and if I don't get to the bottom of this, I'm probably never going to get a good night's sleep again."

Akihiko exhaled deeply, feeling very drained from the outburst, and leaned against the wall for support. Shinji paced around the alleyway slowly in deep thought, the weight of their discussion showing in the shadows of his face and in his hunched shoulders. Paulownia Mall became mostly empty, only the night-owls and people going clubbing would walk aimlessly around the large area. The bright lights took on the oppressive effect that only being out late at night indoors would produce. After a long while, Shinji gave his own exhausted sigh and spoke.

"Well, you do your thing, and I'll do mine. Whatever it is you're doing, like if it involves ghosts or girls or whatever crap that happens to you, the responsibilities' all on you. To be honest, I don't know how I could be of help, anyway, because you're the only one I know who's going through this."

Akihiko laughed humorlessly. "Heh, yeah."

"But let me know how things are going. I always knew that you're going to have some exciting life; at least I'll have a peaceful one." At that, he made as if to leave and Akihiko followed him, feeling lighter than he had felt in a while now that he told everything to Shinji. He actually began to look forward for tomorrow so that he could talk to Mitsuru Kirijo about their situation. Things began moving forward again.

Just as they past Gekkoukan High School, whose ominous silhouette in the moonlight lorded over the small island, Shinji suddenly stopped in his tracks and made a noise of epiphany.

"Oh yeah," he epiphanized. "I forgot something."

"What? We're not going back again, are we?" Akihiko exclaimed. "It's almost… Oh, shoot, it's just past 11 o' clock! I think that you'd know by now that I really want to go back before midnight, right?" He looked at his friend pointedly.

Shinji sneered back at him. "Don't go throwing around a hissy fit, pansy. What I forgot happens to be next to the train station. Need I remind you that I have my 'manager' duties to take care of."

Akihiko looked lost. "Meaning?"

"I had bets," Shinji said simply. "On my cash cow. Some guys were betting on how many rounds your opponents would survive before being pulverized, but this one kid made a huge bet on that last guy you were going against. I think it was the one from our rival school. If memory serves correctly, that guy really did try to pull some fast ones on you, so that kid with the bet must have felt pretty confident about his ticket."

"I can't you made bets on me again, Shinji. But, whatever. You go on ahead while I try to avoid being outside in the very real Dark Hour where I don't know what the hell would happen in it."

"Awww, big tough bruiser of the ring a scaredy cat? Of a couple of measley coffins and the boogeymen jumping out of shadows?"

"I may be a risk-taker, but I'd rather know what I'm going against rather then go forward blindly."

Shinji scoffed. "Like that hasn't happened before. But you're coming with me to the back alleys."

Akihiko looked at him incredulously. "Why?"

"'Cause I probably need a big tough bruiser around while I'm collecting."

Now it was Akihiko's turn to mock. "Now who's the scaredy cat here?"

"I'm thinking practically. Some high school punks hang out around there and I don't want an ambush waiting to happen by a bunch of dimwits who'd pull a fast one. If they'd did, I would bitch-slap them and roll them down a hill in a trash can. Since you're my moral compass, you'll have to stop them from making me do so."

Akihiko sighed irritably. "Fine. As long as it doesn't take up too much time."

part two coming eventually. Babel has two meanings, and one of them is a homophone.