Prologue – Friends and Murderers

The lights were out. The candle's small flame glimmered across the porcelain and glassware of the immense dining table, casting deep shadows across their tense expressions. The toy and textiles proprietor was fidgeting nervously, eyes cast away from the woman across from him as he roughly grabbed the cup of wine.

The police officer and store manager next to him were in no better shape. The manager had quite suddenly bit back a yelp, rubbing a sore upper arm.

"Ow, what the heck was that for?" he whispered loudly to his dinner mate.

"Stop making me nervous!" hissed the officer back at him.

"I'm nervous because you're nervous!"

"Shut up! I am not nervous." From outside of the room, something shook slightly against the door.

"But you just said that I was-"

The man next to her coughed. A quiet, polite noise from their host – but the table was silent again. Grayed hair, despite his obvious youth – he carried with him an unusual gravitas and authority.

"The facts are before us," he said quietly. "As are the alibis. If we wait any longer, the killer will have the rest of the evening to finish us off. Based on the evidence laid out before us, I am sure that the federal agent amongst us will be the last victim."

He smiled – a small expression, faintly amused.

"Choose wisely."

They fidgeted. She kept her own expression passive, her head tilted downward as if in deep contemplation. In truth, there was nothing to contemplate – she had figured it out quite a while ago. She was equally sure that her companion had as well – and can rely on him to stay quiet (and expressionless) on the matter until appropriate. A slender finger, clothed in a dark, arm-length velvet glove matching her dinner dress, curled around a long lock of dark blue hair as the grandfather clock ticked loudly in the shadows.

"If my deductions are right…" she started, and to her amusement two sets of Adam's apples bobbed in suspense. "It was… you." A nail the color of deep cobalt, black in the yellow, hazy glow of the candle, directed itself at the toy maker.

"Wh- what? Me? Why?" he protested in a panic. "I didn't do nothin'!"

"That means you did something!" screamed the officer as she jumped up in a panic, bowling the store manager over. "You admitted it! You're the killer! How could y-"

Another cough. They froze in place.

"I am sure he merely meant to emphasize his innocence," continued the lady in dark blue. "However, the evidence is stacked against him. The means of murder were uniformly direct, befitting his personality. Furthermore, as I have vouchsafed, I had seen him converse heatedly with the first victim – of which we now know was one of the two undercover agents assigned to this venue."

"'Befitting my pers-' Why, you!"

"And now he appears to be threatening me," she finished, mildly.

"GUILTY!" screamed the officer and manager both. "GUILTY!"

"I didn't do it!" roared the toymaker defiantly. "I'm the agent, dammit!"

"Liar!" snapped the store manager. "You're the killer! Put it to a vote!"

"…cast your ballots, then," said the gray-haired man, handing out a wicker basket. "Silent vote, of course."

The toymaker was glaring daggers at her. She felt a little guilty. But there was a prize at stake, after all.

The basket was returned to him. The results were, needless to say, unsurprising. The police officer, her short hair bobbing angrily, frog-marched the convicted out of the room.

She began to chuckle.

"…h-hey, partner, why are you smiling like that?" asked the store manager nervously. The gray-haired young man merely smiled, teeth glistening in the candlelight.

Her chuckle grew louder, a tinge of haughtiness. She reached down for her purse as the police officer marched back in, pride in a job well-done quickly crumbling into horror as the gleam of a gun barrel caught her eyes.

"Oh… no."

She smiled like an angel. "With both agents gone… I'm no longer restrained, am I?"

The trigger was depressed – twice. And Officer and Manager Hanamura found themselves drenched with red food coloring.

The inn manager and host, Yukiko Amagi, fell out of the nearby door, laughing fitfully.

/

"Totally unfair," groused Kanji. The dining room's lights were back on and the Inaba investigation team, aged ten years, sat around it. "Why the hell was Naoto the freaking murderer this time?" He rubbed his wrist – Chie was perhaps a bit too into her act.

"S-sorry, Kanji," said Chie, laughing nervously as she wiped her face clean with a dampened towel. She had changed out of her light green dress for one of the inn's yukatas, as did Yosuke.

"Meh, 's alright. Doujima-san was way tougher on me back in school. Still, Naoto? The Detective Prince as the murderer?"

"I told you so!" fumed Rise Kujikawa. The actress and former idol had a splotch of red down the front of her orange dress. "I told you we had to look out for her! Naoto-kun's tricky!"

"And that's why I had to take you out of the picture first," said Naoto, smiling mischievously. "Your sense of drama was surprisingly disadvantageous for me." She even made a half-scrawled note on the floor in "blood," nearly giving the game away – Chie's police training hadn't been for naught. The use of police tape to "cordon" off a section of the inn, however, was a bit excessive.

"Hey, where's Teddie?" asked Kanji as he looked around. "I haven't seen him since he was declared dead."

"I'm a corpse," moaned a voice under the table, directly below Kanji. He yelped and pushed back. "Betrayed by my friends, my body stuffed rudely away. What an unbear-able tragedy…"

"Dammit, Ted! The game's over. Get up already!"

Quite unlike the rest of the investigation team, now in their latter twenties, the humanized Shadow, a fragment of human psyche that had materialized its own ego, had not visibly aged. Had not, in fact, changed much at all. He was even dressed similarly, though his ruffled shirt was now complemented by a close-fitting jacket. He was grinning cheekily as he took his seat.

"It's a pity that Nanako-chan wasn't able to join us this year," he said. "Oh well. I'm sure she's having fun on the school trip!"

Three individuals, all male, desperately suppressed an old but shockingly… vivid memory. Three minds prayed in gratitude to whatever gods were listening that the inn had its own chef, and that he was most definitely not the otherwise stunning and graceful owner-manager.

"W-well, Souji taught her to cook, right?" said Yosuke, laughing. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Chie still burns the eggs when making breaaaooowww!"

"If my cooking sucks so badly, you can make your own breakfast in the morning," said Chie through a rictus of a grin.

"O-oh! Look! Dinner!" said Yosuke desperately. "Steak!" The aroma of Inaba's purported specialty wafted between the couple as a waitress rolled in with a small cart.

"…this isn't over," she said in a deadly sing-song voice. Yukiko was already snickering. Kanji merely rolled his eyes.

Under the table, Naoto squeezed Souji's hand. They knew that these yearly rituals were more for their sake than anybody else – of the original Inaba investigation team, it was her and Souji that found their life's path deviating away from the sleepy little town, still blanketed in what was now a peaceful, gentle fog in early spring – one that was, in contrast to that hectic year, now said to have rejuvenating properties, especially for athletes (A final farewell gift from an old adversary? But they dared voice that thought only once and never again). But it was still their anchor. No matter how far they drifted, this town and their friends would still be home.

It was good to be back.

"Oh, yes. The prize," said Souji. "Neither of the six victims were able to prove the identity of the villain before both agents were taken out. Only two of you submitted your guesses at the end. No, Ted, the butler didn't do it – Amagi Inn doesn't have a butler."

"Foo! I was bear-y sure of it!"

"First time that's happened since you drew the ace of spades four years ago," said Yosuke, grinning widely. "Well, I guess that makes sense."

"You still have the record for fastest time getting caught," teased Rise.

"Wha- hey! I did alright on the second game!"

"At any rate," interrupted Souji. "Congratulations, Naoto. As usual, everybody chipped in for the jackpot." He smiled, knowingly. "The LGBT charity again?" Kanji grunted in approval – gender and sexual identity issues being something most of them were familiar with to one extent or another, even if second-hand. The rest of the table cheered her success, or in the case of the unabashedly tactless Teddie, mumbling it loudly through a face already stuffed with steak.

/

"Kanpai!" they cheered and downed a shot of hot sake together. Steam rose from the outdoor hot springs as the men of the team lounged in the warm waters. It was hardly their first shot – Teddie was already flushed red, his eyes unfocused as he floated across the spring like a dead body. The only reason why he wasn't joining them on this round of their celebratory toast was because Yosuke threatened to dock his wages if he wasn't able to get to work tomorrow morning. From the looks of it, this might already be a problem for the both of them.

"Tooootally unfair," griped Kanji, slurring his words slightly. "This is… what, third year in a row?"

"Eh? Souji won the one last year, right?" asked Yosuke. "Rise-chan managed to 'kill' three of us before he trapped her."

"No, no. 's not Naoto 'm talking about. The both of them, Yosuke. Totally unfair. Two detectives, man – we ought to change up the game a little. Or at least give 'em a handicap."

Souji nodded. "It sounds fair. We do have an advantage by our professions. It's not like everybody else has the time to practice investigative techniques – well, maybe Chie."

"Eh, she's law enforcement, not investigation," said Yosuke offhandedly. "Kinda glad, though – her hours are more regular than your uncle's were."

Souji thanked Kanji as the blonde man poured him a new cup. "Her instincts are good, though. My uncle's taken note of it." He grinned at his best friend as they clinked their ceramic cups together. "We might have to steal her away for a few months, have her train with Tokyo's finest."

"Oh yeah. You're moving to the Ikebukuro area, huh?" noted Kanji. "What was it… Heiwajima Kasuka? His ex turned out to be a serial murderer?"

Souji nodded, sipping at his sake. "I guess it's out on the tabloids already. Unusual girl – she cracked one of my ribs before Naoto got her with the elephant tranquilizer."

The two other men spewed their drinks, a rainbow spray of sake in the outdoor lights.

"What? Elephant tranquilizer?"

"Cracked your rib? How?" Yosuke shuddered. "Jeez, you two. Is it too much to ask that you try and make sure you can come back another year?" He gave Kanji a slight, drunken grin. "Well, guess you lucked out, Kanji. You're not the one getting shot at."

Souji sighed as Kanji yelled out his protests. Water splashed as he clumsily tried to chase the more agile man across the water. "Guys, you got water into the sake. And Yosuke, stop teasing Kanji. He and Naoto dated all of one week in senior year – it's a dead horse." He sipped at the last of his own undiluted cup. "And he asked her out a whole year before you worked it up to ask Chie, so…"

"…damn. Fine. Fair enough. Sorry, Kanji."

"Eh, not a big deal," said the taller man, mollified. "'s not true, though. Souji's still lucky." He gave their former leader an uncharacteristic grin. "If I knew she'd look that good in a dress, maybe I'd have tried harder, yanno?"

Souji grinned with maybe a faint hint of private smugness. He'd chosen the dress over her somewhat lackluster protests. She'd finally moved beyond the chest bindings, if only out of increasing discomfort, and let her hair grow out – a stunning effect already, all told, as he had assured her. And for this, their tenth year anniversary since Izanami's capitulation… well, they'd all dress their parts for their somewhat whimsical tradition.

"So, wait," said Yosuke as he roused Teddie, propping him up before the boy could drown himself. "That case was solved, right? Why are you moving there?"

"Partially because Naoto wants the charges to stick. Mostly because of something… personal." Souji looked at his empty sake cup and sighed. Well, might as well tell them…

"Adachi broke his parole terms. He was last seen in Ikebukuro."

/

"Did you know that Rise-chan was dating Heiwajima-san?" asked Naoto, drying her long, dark blue hair with a towel from the inn. "Ugh, I'm going to get a cut when we get back home – sorry, but it's just too much work to wash it."

"Hmm. Kasuka-kun hinted something like that," said Souji distractedly. His girlfriend gave him an amused look as she turned around. They'd actually not gone out until a little less than a year ago, when their paths crossed again over a Yakuza fugitive, though due to their regular correspondences she was already well aware he had come along a parallel lifestyle to her own – one halfheartedly encouraged by Inaba's police chief. Doujima even bought him a bulletproof vest upon getting his license.

She was a little surprised to see how much of a workaholic he was. True, when she was shadowing him during their time together in Inaba, he was working three part-time jobs, babysitting his cousin and acing everything in school – not to mention act as town psychiatrist more often than not - but at least the part-time jobs were later explained as necessary means to fund their expeditions into the Midnight Channel, and he later explained the interactions of his social life with his unique metaphysical capabilities.

That would have caused some soul-searching as to the nature of his relationships – and especially the one with her – if he wasn't just as earnest with everybody even after his powers were made inconsequential.

"'Kasuka-kun,' hmm?" she said, leaning next to him to get a better view of the case file. "You two do share a lot in common." She smiled at his blank expression. "You're both quiet, aloof and require an electron microscope to read properly. I wonder if Rise-chan didn't pick up on him because of your similarities? You two did date for quite a while."

"Then I got stabbed," he said blandly as she traced an old wound across his collarbone with her fingers. That was another thing that wasn't readily apparent to her until after that year in Inaba – his relentlessness wasn't always appreciated, and was even reckless at times. Trapping Rise's stalker and attempted rapist back in college – genius in its execution. Except for the part where he personally apprehended the suspect. They broke up in the hospital that night and weren't on friendly terms for a good half a year, their relationship strained to the breaking point by his incessant need to prevent wrongdoings and protect others and her own nearly despairing worry over his safety. Come to think of it, the first thing Rise did when they broke the news about their relationship to their friends was take Naoto out for drinks and warn her to not let Souji manipulate her into letting him have things his way all the time – something he was distressingly good at, as Naoto found out on her own.

For example, while her mind wandered, the file had been set aside, and the hand brushing against his scar had been lifted to his lips. And she could've sworn there was no way his other arm had room to move, much less find its way behind her, a gentle but pressing hand dangerously low against her waist. Her cheeks flushed as each slow kiss sent waves of heat up her spine.

"W-wait…" she breathed; her eyes unfocused as Souji leaned in, kissing the edge between her neck and her yukata. The warm smell of his hair was already incrementally intoxicating her. "Ah-ah…! Wait, I didn't bring a turtleneck," she gasped as he playfully nipped at her collarbone, the sleeves of her yukata slowly drawing past her shoulders. "A-and Teddie and Kanji are in the next room…"

"It'd take an earthquake to rouse them," he said, grinning as they both listened to the snoring duet next door. Souji blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself facing the ceiling with Naoto pouting down at him reproachfully.

"You're always taking the lead. It's not fair," she breathed as her hands ran over his chest. "Not fair at all…"

He smiled wordlessly and warmly, a hand roughened by years of kendo practice sifting through her hair.

/

Ten years, and the nightmares were still undiluted. Izanami-no-Okami's true form, revealed by the orb of insight Igor had crafted from his soul, still loomed over his friends and him, casting a terrible, horrifying shadow in the eerie light of the fog-filled stadium. He could smell it again – the stench of decaying corpses, thick, pungent and persistent in the still fog. He could feel the horror again – disturbingly human claws of bone and shadows oozing from the earth as he was shunted aside once, twice and once more by his panicked friends, tearing away those closest to him, Rise's fear and terror echoing loudly in his mind as his friends sacrificed themselves to keep him alive.

When the nightmares aren't so bad, he'd find himself in that still, quiet space between life and death. He'd hear the echoes of friends again. He'd stand up again, and once more Izanami would vanish, laid bare before the all-revealing light of myriad truths.

Some other nights, he would wake up in a cold sweat instead, the clammy yet burning touch of the damned still vivid against his flesh. He'd still remember the black and red pit of the earth, the haunting tatters of green and red cloth, the broken wirings from a headphone, a patch of fur, locks of blonde and red hair, torn remnants of a blue hat… soaked thoroughly in blood, hanging off despairingly familiar, gore-drenched skeletons.

And a pair of maddened, eerie yellow eyes – a final answer as to why he had never confronted his own shadow, never had to face down his own abyss. Of course he had to. All humans had secret fears and phobias – a multiplicity of them, of varying degrees. He was no exception – could never have been an exception. And his fear of death had come to claim him.

"Now you're mine…"

Only, tonight, the dream had a slight difference.

"Now you're mine…"

Adachi was at the bottom of that ravenous pit – but unlike how he was when Souji last saw him, he was neither broken in defeat, or gleeful in his madness. He was pale – eyes frightened beyond sanity. Hands reaching out desperately as skeletal claws seemingly embraced him – but his throat was cut, and the claws left oozing gashes wherever he was touched.

"Now you're mine forever…"

And as the darkness in his dreams hungrily consumed the man that was once his mortal enemy, Souji jerked awake.

"…yes, I understand. We'll be back as soon as possible." The faint click as a cellphone folded closed. "Oh, Souji. I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Naoto sat down next to him, pulling her yukata tighter around her as the cool, dawn air seeped into the room.

"Nightmares, not your fault," he mumbled as he sat up. She wrapped her arm around his, and Souji was thankful for the warmth. "Phone call?"

"Ikebukuro police," she said hesitantly. "…they found a body, Sou-kun. It… it was Adachi. Suicide."

A cold chill crept up his spine.

"Now you're mine… forever…"