Ganta forced back tears as he hastily blurted out his apologies to the female. He summarized the events that took place a couple of days ago then inquired about the extent of Jurai's memory loss. Fist formed hands placed at his sides as he trembled immensely. Muddled thoughts filled his head as a puzzled expression plastered itself on the female's visage. In her current state she was incapable of retrieving what resulted in tonight's assault. Guilty by default since his desires outweighed the safety of many. All he ever hoped for was to be freed of his perdition. Now, he pleaded for the woman before him to forgive him. Jurai listened intently as the youth apologized several times because of a half concocted escape plan. Finally, a sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head in protest and raised her arm, which was encased in an orthopedic cast, from underneath the navy blue blankets.

"I don't understand what's going on," she admitted meekly, catching the youth off guard. She leaned against the cushion positioned upright. Silence descended as she grabbed her head in pain, smallest of details seeping out of her unconscious; this colossal migraine originated at the base of her cranium. Images flashing through her head at light speed. Again, she was incapable of pinpointing a single memory to this young boy standing beside her hospital bed.

Ganta extended an arm, planting his hand on Jurai's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Overall her appearance remained the same, minus an additional bruise or two, but her deportment was altered. The woman he met a few nights ago, who participated in the recent Carnival Corpse, dissipated. Those hazel optics were identical, but lacked its natural gleam. This Jurai was riddled with confusion and uncertainty. Every thought became a jumbled heap of information. Finally she sunk down in her warm blankets, the soft fabric concealing her entirely.

"I'm sorry," her voice splintered, "I need rest."

A haunting voice reiterated the name Joshua… it was all in her head.

The doctor crossed over to the other side of the room, inspecting the slumbering patient. Ortega placed down the chart resting in her arms on the edge of the nightstand located on the right side of the bed, attention shifting over to the monitors. She gathered her hair into a loose ponytail using a medium sized clip. On the nightstand was a small black remote. Ortega picked it up and pushed the red button, turning on the television in the room. A dancing bird happily hopped across the screen as she pulled up a chair beside Jurai's bed, giving her a light tap on the shoulder to rouse her from her slumber.

"Wakey, wakey," she cooed, but was ignored. Once more, Ortega tapped the slumbering patient with more force and purposely hitting the injured party's arm.

"What the hell, Ortega!" Jurai's buried her arm underneath the soft blankets.

"Oh, what a coincidence, you're up," Ortega chimed with a smile.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Your performance was marvelous, by the way. You did a great job shooing Ganta Igarashi away."

Jurai paused, arching a brow before blurting out, "It wasn't an act."

"Well, if I were you I'd try to remember quickly. If you want to be any use to your friends, I'd work on recovering that memory. The longer you take the more restless the crowd becomes." Ortega turned her attention to the monitor, the soft glow illuminating the room. She raised the volume of the television and was greeted with the announcer's cheerful voice welcoming the viewers to another Carnival Corpse.

The voices in her head intensified. Questioning who could possibly be participating in this Carnival Corpse and why so soon. As the voices calmed, her conscience whimpered the name Ganta.

"They prepped him about an hour ago," Ortega added, "while you were resting in your cozy hospital bed."

The female patient slid the blankets off her aching body, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and hastily standing. This caused her to feel lightheaded from her rapid movement. Jurai leaned against the wall and released a soft groan as the migraine crept back, and to the fact that she was leaning against the wall with her left arm.

"Jesus, Rai, you're acting like a helpless calf. What did you think would happen if you jumped up like that?" Ortega chuckled as she watched Jurai inch over to the door.

Once exiting the room, Jurai released her pint up breath, the back of her head resting on the wall. A faint cry echoed in the fissures of her shattered mind. Their hands banged against the glass that encased the arena as they attempted to uplift her from her defeated state. She could hear their cries for her to stand once more, the sound of their pleas and faith in her. When Jurai finally snapped back to reality, she realized that she was sprinting like a madman and panting.

What the hell am I doing, she thought.

Something you always wished you could do. Take control of the situation and save those that are precious to you.

Two guards appeared in front of her, commanding that she turn back. Without warning, her nails dug into her skin, tearing at her flesh as she charged towards them. A long blade extended from her wounds, taking hold of the weapon as she slashed upwards, creating a diagonal gash on one of the guard's chest, before spinning and plunging the blade through the other man's throat. Again, the blade was worn like the dagger she tried to create to assault Tamaki, and dispersed as quickly as it was formed.

I can't keep this up, not like this…she thought before picking up speed. Another guard charged from the left. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, swinging him into the wall. Slamming her forearm against the back of his neck and painfully bent his arm behind him. The bottom of her foot collided into his calf, knocking him down with ease. A shot was fired, but to her surprise she was unharmed. The blood from her wounds encasing her cranium with a hawk shaped helmet before vanishing.

Pure adrenaline rush driving her to lunge towards her attacker and delivering a devastating blow to his abdomen. Instantly, pain rippled from her wrist to her elbow along with the sound of an audible crack, though she was uncertain of whether it was her furthering her injury or cracking her pursuer's ribcage. Unbelievable amount of pressure formed in her arm as it throbbed from the impact. Jurai made a sharp left as she darted down the corridors, muscles flaring from aggressive actions. One of the guards appeared pointing an air taser at the frantic woman as she ducked underneath him, sliding on the right side of her body then propelling herself off the ground. With one fluid motion, her leg swept counter-clockwise and knocked the startled guard off his feet. She disarmed him, forcefully removing his weapon before delivering a shock to incapacitate him.

She towered over the unconscious male, wiping away sweat with the back of her hand and pondered her purpose for causing such a ruckus. After planting her back against the wall, she tardily descended, index finger placed over the trigger. From her peripheral vision, she could have sworn that there was something nearby. Someone was watching her movements and clumsy takedowns. Hastily, she jumped to her feet.

"I know you're there," Jurai announced, but was caught off guard when a short teenage girl emerged. Her slender frame was clasped in a white body suit, with red swirls. Ruby red optics latching on the older female, with her hands pressed against her lips. Pale skin flushed from her previous activities and snow white hair clinging to her sweaty flesh.

"Are you friend or foe," the girl inquired, blinking several times as she waited for a response.

Jurai shifted uncomfortably, since she was not aware of whom this girl might be. Usually, a single thread would piece together and establish a link to multiple encounters made, but nothing. For once her conscience was silent and could not recall ever seeing this individual. Not once..

"That all depends. Are you going to stop me from going to the arena?"

The girl shook her head in protest as she advanced over to the woman, head tilted up in order to make eye contact with her older counterpart.

"Wow, you're tall," she beamed. "Are you an amazon?"

"…No, I'm just…no one in particular."

"Do you have a name?"

"Jurai," she responded. "What's yours?"

"Shiro," the girl exclaimed, "but before Shiro saw you she was Aceman!"

"Aceman, you mean that old anime?" She paused before admitting, "I used to watch that show all the time when I was younger…hey, why Aceman?"

"Shiro came to save the day…those mean people took Ganta away and brought him down here; this place is scary. Shiro doesn't think Ganta would want to stay here."

"You know Ganta?"

"Yeah, we're friends. Shiro always saves Ganta."

"Um, you're right Shiro. This place is very scary…Ganta might have gotten into some trouble; they took him to another area. I'm trying to help him get out of the trouble he's in.

Shiro tilted her head to the side as she listened then gave a slight nod.

"Then, we have to help him. Aceman and amazon girl will save the day! Come, this way!" Shiro said while rushing off.

There was an odd air about this girl. Jurai couldn't explain it. Though it was based off a gut feeling, something told her that Shiro must have fought through a series of guards before reaching her. After all, their numbers were lacking and they hardly put up a fight.

This is it, she thought as the spotlight shone brightly down on the participants of tonight's Carnival Corpse. Spectators placed bets on the possible winner. Frustrated squalls echoed from one of the viewers' as the battle came to a close. Ganta geared his head back smashing his forehead against Minatsuki's. It was almost comical, considering she took advantage of Yō's interference.

On the far right a vent was kicked out, allowing both Shiro and Jurai to slip in. They caught glimpse of the last few minutes of the battle, utterly stunned by the way Ganta handled himself. Despite his frail and small stature, he was capable of fending off Minatsuki. From the view, Jurai was able to recall a few trials she was forced to endure. Flashes of gruesome images, all the lives claimed by her bare hands. Memories she wish she could simply toss away.

"What's wrong?" Shiro asked.

Jurai hesitated. She sifted through her head in order to formulate a coherent sentence without her appearing to be a bumbling idiot. "It's nothing…"

"Amazon girl," Shiro whined. "He's right there."

"Go to him," she muttered.

Shiro gave her a questioning look before nodding in response. Without delay, she rushed towards the arena, darkness engulfing her from sight as she advanced towards the stage.

The sound of footsteps echoing caught her attention and readying weapons.

He's stronger than you think, her conscience stated as she raised her hands above her head. Three of the guards hastily apprehended her. Among them stood Ortega with a satisfied grin plastered on her visage. In her dainty right hand was Jurai's salvation from all of the alarming thoughts; a syringe filled with idyllic lethargy and promising a gratifying escape.