The piano tapped the back of her skull like rain. Igor was seated in the brocade armchair, as usual, fingers folded over his mouth, and Theo was leaning against an arm. The fireplace burned blue-white, blue shadows over a deep blue room, and the gaslights on the street blurred with rain on the window. This was a pastiche of Victorian masculine space, a bachelor pad, furniture in rich dark wood and shelves of books and a variety of mechanical oddities, scattered about, remnants of an eccentric, intellectual occupant, silver and brass and pulled glassware burned orange-brown with use.

Naoto knew where she was. She had always known where she was. There was no explicit cue, no visible street signs or documents with names put to them, but the realization had settled into her gut the first time she had appeared here and collapsed into the armchair opposite Igor. This was the setting of her most consistent fantasies, cast blue, the ones she held close to her chest since childhood, the room that stayed constant as her understanding of the two occupants matured with her growing up. From the one-dimensional imaginings of a child, to the ambivalent, nuanced understanding of an adult, this room never changed-not even when she consciously tried to change it commensurate with her deepening understanding of the infinite dimensions of human nature.

"Welcome to the Velvet Room." Igor regarded her over his hands for a moment, eyes narrowed. "I see you have not yet had occasion to use the blank card I gave you at your last visit. But no matter. Though your inability to use the Wild Card has come as much from lack of need, I have summoned you here to warn you of a growing darkness in your heart that is keeping you from unlocking that potential."

Naoto stared down at her folded hands. Igor waved his palm over the coffee table, and several cards flashed, at the apexes of connected lines of power, and solidified, face-down.

"Now, then. Let us look at your immediate future."

He gestured for the leftmost card to flip over. It was a Baphomet head on a red field, chains splitting two human profiles beneath it. Igor tisked quietly.

"Ah, it is much as I thought. The Devil. Enslavement. Obsession. The refusal to let go of something that is holding you back. It will chain you down. Your near future is..."

He flicked his fingers, and the card furthest right on the spread flipped over. It was a morose young man brooding beneath a tree and staring at three chalices in front of him, oblivious to a cloud that was offering a fourth chalice.

"The Four of Cups. Tribulation, introspection. A period of mourning not getting what you want. But, you will see that the young man is so focused on what he can't have, he cannot see the other beautiful things being offered him."

He waved his hand over the spread, and the cards burst, evaporated into light-dust. Igor re-folded his fingers over his mouth and looked down his nose at Naoto for a moment before speaking.

"You are angry. Why?"

The Velvet Room attendants stared at her as she twisted fistfuls of her clothes, finally looked up.

"Why the hell does everybody think they have the right to lecture me like this? Like they know what's best for me? I'm sick of being patronized!"

"Nobody is patronizing you..." said Theo.

"Lecturing me, then. I'm not as stupid as everybody seems to think I am. Just because Tatsumi-kun has an obvious crush on me doesn't mean I owe him anything!"

Theo blinked and jerked back. "Nobody said you owe anybody anything. Or anything about a Tatsumi-kun. The cards speak generalities. If your mind went there first, maybe it is something to consider. The cards show you the truth your unconscious already knows."

"What, that I should settle?"

"Does the offered cup look any less beautiful than the ones the young man consciously desires?" said Igor. "No, this is not advice to settle. It is advice to look openly at the beauty of what is around you, with nothing holding you back. It would be against the nature of this card to 'settle'."

"The cup will not be offered forever," said Theo. "Eventually, the cloud will move on if you do not take its offering."

"Does it profit you to refuse to examine the offering?" said Igor. "If it is not what you want, you needn't hold on to it. The Four of Cups asks for no such long-term contracts, only awareness, and an equal chance. It is an offer of opportunity, not commitment. Perhaps it is your fear at seeming malleable that drives your refusal to look, as much as your obsession."

Naoto stared down at her lap, livid. Finally, Igor spoke.

"I can assure you that we in the Velvet Room have no motive, or desire, to manipulate you in a direction you don't want to go. We exist outside the web of your relationships. We exist only to guide you. We are one-hundred percent behind all of our visitors. We are the advocate of whomever is in the room at any given time. Bias does not factor into our advice. But let us put that matter aside, related though I admit it is to the one at hand. We brought you here to warn you about a challenge you will face. The Devil speaks only of the nature of the obstacle to be overcome, or of what will happen should things run their current course. But the future is not decided-it is your actions that will decide your fate. Facing oneself is not something one does only once in a lifetime. It is something that must constantly be done, as old Shadows will re-emerge if you deny the new facets of them that become evident with time."

Blood rushed out of her head, and she caught herself on the chair arms before she could hunch over. Her eyes pulsed blind, and, when they cleared, the Velvet Room was dissipating.

"It seems you are already being called back."

Light pounded the roots of her eyes. She pushed up onto her elbows and hissed. It felt as though the back of her head were nailed to the pillow. A grey-and-maroon curtain curved from the wall around her bed; it was slick, utilitarian-waterproof like the floor, where blood and disinfectant had seeped under the linoleum cracks, but she still sensed it along the back of her throat; an abject suffering, compounded time, scrubbed clean with bleach and clinical efficiency. She found the clinical detachment insulating. Well, at least, she couldn't be that seriously injured, as the doctors had left her alone still in her uniform for some unknown period of time, though she had several minor abrasions that had been patched.

She was able to stand with some difficulty, around the bruises in her bones. A knife jammed into her ribs when she took a deep breath, and she crumpled, caught herself on the bedside table. She did not know if she had cried out.

Heavy tread, footsteps approaching. Someone big in leather shoes, thin soles. Tall, given the distance between steps. That was probably Kanji. God damn it, she must have yelled.

For a moment she was enraged, though she knew it wasn't his fault; it was like some force was constantly trying to shove them together-this she pictured as Igor and Theo, or Philemon-and her gut instinct to being herded was to rebel. The anger peaked and faded when another person in softer shoes, clipped tread-probably a woman-stepped in front of him, and he stopped.

"I told you to stay in the waiting room." It was indeed a woman's voice.

"I just heard 'er yell." That was indeed Kanji's voice. "Let me through, dammit! Why ain't you doin' anything for her?"

"I am going to." The nurse pushed the curtain aside slightly, just enough to slip in. "Get out of here, or I will call security. This is a violation of patient privacy."

"He's fine."

The nurse turned, and Kanji peered over her shoulder. Naoto cursed to herself. She wanted to be alone, not bothered by people, especially not by him, but her brain clearly wasn't filtering her words.

"He can come in," she clarified. The nurse turned to face her fully, and Kanji leaned around the curtain. Naoto was trying to stand up straight, nonchalant, but every time she straightened her back the knife stabbed into bone, and she gasped and hunched back down. The nurse grabbed her by the waist and maneuvered her back toward the bed. Kanji stepped toward her, and stopped, hands half-out in a stopping motion, but he withdrew slightly and dropped his arms, bit his lower lip. Took a deep breath. He was clearly putting considerable effort into restraining himself.

"Shirogane-san, you shouldn't be up right now."

"I'm fine. What happened?"

The nurse guided her sitting on the bed, and helped her sit back, gently. A hiss broke through Naoto's teeth.

"I've broken my ribs, haven't I."

"Cracked. Bruised. But it's a hairline crack. I know it hurts, but please, try to be strong. And stay here! You." The nurse looked over her shoulder at Kanji. "Are you really so desperate to be helpful?"

"You're god damn right I-"

"Then sit with her and keep her from getting up."

This was the absolute last thing Naoto wanted, from the absolute last person. She pushed herself up onto her elbows.

"I don't need a handler!"

The nurse pulled the curtain closed behind her. Naoto cursed and tried to sit up, but Kanji pressed her back by the shoulder. Naoto smacked his arm away.

"Don't touch me!"

Kanji's face went slack for a moment, his eyes hollow, but he pressed his lips together and dropped into the chair by the bed. Naoto sighed and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She couldn't look at him, not right now. As his eyes hardened after the initial shock she felt a desperate sense of loss. The cup will only be offered for so long. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and kept it there for a moment. Kanji next to her was a coiled presence she sensed deep in her gut, along her spine.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don't know what I want. I'm fickle.

"'s all right." She opened her eyes. Kanji was staring over her head, arms crossed. "You're in pain. I mean, that's gonna make most people angry."

He wasn't doing a good job trying to hide his pain by glaring. Naoto's stomach lurched, sick and rotted, and she stared down at her hands.

"It was still inappropriate to lash out at you. I'm sorry, Kanji-kun."

" 's all right."

The ghost of his hand still pressed on her shoulder. The PA called a doctor to the operating room. Time clicked, in the rolling of a cart outside, approaching, there, and gone, down a hallway and around a corner.

"What happened?"

"You mean, after you got knocked out an' all that?" Kanji raked his fingers through his hair. "Kujikawa said she summoned a new Persona, somethin' about a blank card, and meetin' her new Persona because they both felt the same way, like, losing somebody, you know? I don't know. Everything's been pretty hectic. Last I saw her she was with Yu-sempai, who got hurt pretty bad, but I've been over here for the most part, I mean..."

That hung between them. Naoto looked at Kanji out of the corner of her eye. He was trying to watch her to see her reaction to hearing Yu-sempai had been injured, but failing at masking it with nonchalance. She looked down at her hands.

"Kujikawa-kun... summoned a new Persona?"

"Yeah. Don't know what that's all about."

Rapid, light steps-Kuma-coming down the hall, followed by somebody in rubber-soled shoes. He burst through the curtain.

"Nao-chan! You're okay!"

He jumped at Naoto's bed-Naoto cringed; her arms tightened in anticipation of bracing his impact-but Kanji caught him as the doctor pulled the curtain aside.

"What the hell's wrong with you? You don't jump at hurt people like that!"

"I wasn't going to jump on her!"

"Yes you were!"

Naoto narrowed her eyes. Kuma was supposed to be injured, right? Hadn't he been knocked back with her? He was currently struggling against Kanji's grip around his waist, but not showing any signs of discomfort. He had abrasions, but they were pink and shiny, healing. The doctor sighed heavily and rubbed between his eyes.

"I'm very sorry about this. I was just escorting him back to his party when he darted off-"

"It's fine. Trust me, I understand. He can stay."

"Kanji-kun, let me go! I won't jump on anybody!"

Kanji tched and released him, and he caught himself on the edge of Naoto's bed, looking her over. The doctor watched him for a long time, and pulled the curtain closed after he left. Naoto stared at that split in the cloth until she felt Kuma leaning very close to her face, and she looked at him sidelong. He backed up a little.

"You seem to be doing quite well," she said.

"Hey-yeah, wait," said Kanji. "Aren't you supposed to be hurt, too? I saw Hanamura-sempai carry you into the hospital."

"Yup! But I feel a lot better now!"

"Kuma." Naoto stared at him until she had his attention. "Did you summon Kamui back there?"

"I waited until Doctor-sensei was out of the room!"

"Kuma-"

"No! Don't 'Kuma' me! I'll hide what I really am but not if it means I have to stay in pain! That really hurt!"

Kuma glowered at her. Naoto sighed and dropped back into her pillows with a wan smile.

"I believe you've unintentionally touched on something deep, there."

"Hey!" Kanji shook Kuma by the shoulders. "If you can help her, why ain't you summoning your Persona right now?"

"I think it's easier to heal myself because I'm from the TV world. I dunno. Maybe it's because I'm a shadow or something. Besides, I wasn't hurt too bad or anything. Like, I think some bones had cracked or something and I had a lot of bruises, and I was all scraped up, but Kamui can handle that." He looked away. "I don't know how much I can help Sensei. I can try to make Nao-chan feel better."

"Then why the hell ain't you doing it?"

"Kanji." Naoto placed her hand on Kuma's shoulder. "It's fine. We should be practicing discretion. I'm not in any immediate danger."

"But you're in pain, ain't you?"

"It's not so bad." That was a lie; anything more than a shallow breath made her ribs pop with lightening rooted under her tongue. "Besides, if I can't handle this..."

If she couldn't handle this, what then, indeed. It was bearable, but this was the pain that came only of a minor injury. There are no heroes when physical pain is involved; she had read that somewhere. Everybody breaks and will do anything to stop the pain, if it gets bad enough. The most basic roots of our psyche allow for nothing else. It's the most primordial terror, where all the consciousness roots in the base of the brain, and narrows to one slash of desperation. If even this was weakening her spirits so badly...

"Hey! I have an idea!"

Kuma and Kanji helped Naoto off the bed and emerged from the curtain. Kuma was by far closest to Naoto's height, so he helped steady her, though it was unnecessary. Though her ribs hurt like hell she could walk fine, albeit stiffly. She felt Kanji hovering behind as an uneasy mass, not sure what to do or how to help. That seemed to be his default state, lately.

In a rare moment of brilliance, Kuma remembered that the restrooms in hospitals were often single-occupancy, and large, as to accommodate wheelchairs. He helped Naoto limp into the bathroom ahead of him, slid through, and tried to close the door on Kanji, who had stuck his hand in.

"What the hell you doing, bear?" he hissed. "Let me in!"

"No. It'll look weird if three people come in."

"It's already suspicious that two people are in there!"

"No it's not. If anybody asks I'll say I brought Nao-chan in here to make out. Stand guard out here."

Kanji sputtered as Kuma closed and locked the door. Naoto gingerly put the toilet lid down and sat, wincing.

"Kuma. Nobody is going to believe you brought me in here to 'make out' while I'm injured like this."

"Sure they will! We're two lovebirds in love who couldn't keep our hands off each other. No injury will come in the way of our love!"

Naoto considered arguing, but it wouldn't be worth the pain and effort, anyway.

"We could actually..." said Kuma.

"No."

Kuma made a half-vocalized whining noise in the back of his throat. Naoto glared at him until he sighed and opened his fist, released a pool of blue light that projected a Tarot card, and slashed it with the blade of his hand.

"Bear-sona!"

The Star card shattered, and Kamui popped out as though he had been curled up, flexed his hands out a few times. He was a wall-eyed, pot-bellied boiler in primary colors and chrome, hinged claws on bubble paws bolted to the top of his head, with a spike nose and a huge, mechanical grin. The rocket bolted to what could generously be called his rear was supposed to be a tail, she guessed, but it just looked like he had been speared on the tip of a huge missile. Naoto thought he looked like a deranged clown; in memory, his grin was always a more sinister, wide-eyed Glasgow smile, but looking directly at him, he seemed goofier, whimsical. She had often thought about this, as Kuma was anything but sinister, but Kamui was derived from his Shadow. Whatever; at least it wasn't Kamui-Moshiri, who was bigger, weirder, and truly disconcerting. And more unstable, mixed blessing that could be in battle, but certainly not here.

A sharp light, like a star, caught over her chest and flared, and cool energy flowed down her veins, through her marrow. Her ribs popped, and there was a burst of relief she feared would disappear, but the pain did not return. Her deep bruises unknotted as the wave faded at her feet, the tips of her fingers, her scalp, and she took a deep breath. The pain was dull, now.

"Thank you, Kuma."

"Ehee." He grinned and scratched the back of his head. "We could still make out."

"No."

Kanji eyed Kuma when they emerged, but the bear was blissfully or deliberately ignorant; it was hard to tell with him. The restroom door was at the crux of an alcove, so none of the staff seemed to notice. They managed to slip past the nurses and inquire in the lobby about Yu. Naoto felt guilty, leaving the ER staff with a missing patient and the resulting confusion, but this was somewhere in the back of her mind. It wasn't a prevalent concern at the moment.

Yu had been taken to get X-rays and an MRI, but the nurses in radiology said he had just been wheeled up to his own room, a few floors up. The general ward, not the ICU or anything like that-that was a good sign.

Yosuke, Yukiko, and Chie were sitting on the floor, out in the hallway, when they limped up. Kuma helped Naoto to a bench several meters down, where the rest of them moved, and she sat back gingerly. She sent Kuma to the nurses' station to request they tell the ER where she had gone, before there was an uproar, and closed her eyes and rested against the wall. The headache was threatening to come back, now; every time she moved her head her brain jostled about, heavy, ripping from its roots. Kanji stood above her, hesitating, and finally decided to sit next to her, but a respectful distance away. His tension was maddening.

Chie and Yosuke gave them a brief update on Yu's condition, while Yukiko stared off down the hall. Apparently he had cracked his spine, but not bad enough to need surgery, and he had a bad concussion, but the doctors did not find anything concerning on his MRI. Naoto dozed while Kuma returned and they went through what had happened once they had shown up at the Clamshell, but her eyes snapped open when she caught something Yukiko had just said.

"Wait. Labrys carried him to the hospital? You mean he wasn't stabilized before he was moved?"

"Stabilized? Oh, you mean how you aren't supposed to move people with potential spine injuries until paramedics show up, that sort of thing?"

"Yes, precisely 'that sort of thing'. The injuries could have been exacerbated."

"Hey," said Yosuke. "The doctors already bitched us out for this. We don't need it coming from you, too."

"I am not bitching anybody out. I am merely stating a fact."

"You don't think we don't already feel bad enough?"

"I was merely saying..."

"Shut up." Labrys was leaning out the doorway on her hands. Apparently she could hear them all the way down there. "All of you, shut up. I scanned 'im before I picked him up. There was a 3.857% chance of makin' his injuries worse by carryin' him the distance to the hospital, but a 4.024% chance of time lost waitin' for the paramedics makin' him worse. I'm not stupid."

"Labrys-san," said Naoto, "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."

"Well, yer high-and-mighty miss-know-it-all attitude is gettin' really old."

"What is with you today? I'm not trying to be condescending. I was merely pointing out a mitigating factor. That information might be useful in the future."

Labrys' mouth firmed into a line, and she ducked back into the room. Naoto sighed and rubbed her temples with one hand. There wasn't anything she could remember having done to Labrys, lately, to make her so standoffish. Maybe this was one of those KY things.

Yu's room was barely large enough to accommodate all of them, and the place of honor had been taken up by Rise, who was sitting by the bed and holding his hand. He was awake and talking. A knot of terror she had pushed out of her consciousness unclotted and washed down her spine. Now there was a shaking numbness. Why the hell was that stupid, vapid bitch hanging all over him like that?

Wait, where the hell did that come from?

She blinked a few times and rubbed between her eyes. The pain was making her irritable, clearly. These weren't her usual thoughts. She realized the talking had stopped, and everybody was looking at her with a mild look of concern.

"Naoto." Yu's voice ran down into her stomach, and she swallowed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It's just a slight headache."

He watched Naoto for a moment while Rise yammered on about something, annoying, shrill, vapid, clutching his hand. Yu's eyes flickered from her to Rise, and he looked back at her, brows furrowed slightly in concern. Why did he have to be so fucking perceptive?

Then Rise got to the part where she had summoned Sati with feelings of desperate, self-sacrificing love and despair, drawing the Wild Card out of her blood at the last moment. Her description of the hallucinations, and the compounded memories, moments of empathy, were vivid. And the whole time she was clutching Yu's hand. Yu smiled and squeezed her hand. Nobody else would have noticed that. Why did it have to hit Naoto so hard?

Obnoxious. Yes, we all know you saved him with the power of love. Fucking good for you, useless skank. It's all you're good for, drawing energy from some guy. Relating to women who didn't have a fucking sense of self and jumped onto their husbands' funeral pyres. Pathetic. Now you're shoving it in all our fucking faces.

Naoto stumbled back into Yosuke, who said "Whoa" and steadied her; she shoved him away. Now everybody was staring at her. She stared down at her shoes, not wanting to meet their eyes. Especially Yu's.

"I'm sorry." She briefly touched Yosuke's arm. "You startled me. I'm still rather jumpy."

"It's fine, whatever, but what's wrong with you?"

Everybody was still staring at her. Nobody look at me. Everybody stop looking at me.

"I need to be alone for a bit."

They parted to let her through, and she padded out into the hallway, leaning on the wall, staggering. She paused several meters down and rested her head in the crook of her arm.

What the hell is wrong with me? That's now how I actually feel. I don't believe any of that.

Her head split-not in a painful way, but it felt like the two hemispheres of her brain had detached for a second. She took a deep breath.

Calm down. I'm far more enlightened than that. I'm just angry, and hurting. I don't really think like that.

I'm not a misogynist bitch like that.

I don't believe that stuff.

I'm not effected by society's attempts to pit women against each other like that.

Yu is gone. I've made peace with that. I've got to move on.

I don't think I'm better than her just because she's so feminine. I'm not femmephobic like that.

I'm better than that.

I'm better than her.

She smashed her fist against the wall and grit her teeth. She almost blacked out, staggered for a second, and caught herself. She fell to one knee and rested her forehead on her arm.

Then why the hell did he lead me on like that? Always so fucking infuriatingly understanding and non-judgmental and-amazing-

I'm the only one on his intellectual level.

He's amazing and brilliant and unreal. Why is he with her?

Her brain and spine were being ripped out, such that she pictured ligaments tearing, the brain being ripped off the brainpan.

I'm the Detective Prince! I'm a genius! I'm brave, and cool, and independent, and strong. How could he choose that vapid slut over me? I'm the only one worthy of him.

Is that how you did it, you useless slut? Just look pretty and spread your legs and hang all over him and revolve around him? Is it because I'm actually my own person?

"No," she hissed. "No, no, no. No."

Rise is kind and smart and funny and just an amazing person to be around. She's fun and true to herself and brave. Just because she's really girly doesn't mean anything. That stuff doesn't mean anything. That doesn't make me better than her. Because that isn't a bad thing.

"No."

"Naoto-kun..."

Rise placed her hand on Naoto's shoulder. Naoto jerked around, snarling, and whacked her hand away, clutched where she had wrenched her ribs.

"Don't touch me, you vapid cunt."

No.

Rise staggered back. Now Naoto was outside herself, detached, a ghost superimposed over her own body. She was pulling apart.

"Stop pretending that you give a fuck about everybody." Her voice was splitting, two-tones, like a signal being ripped apart. The ghost wanted to pull away, to run, but she was rooted. "I don't need sympathy from you. You're so fucking perfect, always forgiving people and martyring yourself. Don't you fucking dare make me look like the bad guy. You think you have everybody fooled, acting so sweet like that. Conniving slut."

No.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized what was happening, that she couldn't reject this monster-that it really did come from herself. But not now. Not after what she'd said.

Then everybody would know what she really was.

"Naoto-kun..." Rise was backing up. "It's okay. You can't help how you feel. We're all the same deep down. You have to accept that."

"SHUT UP!"

She released a wave of energy that knocked Rise back. The surroundings were growing dark; she could only focus on Rise, sprawled on a small patch of linoleum floor. The last bit of her sanity knew that everybody was staring at her, everybody had to have come out of the room by now-she looked up, and saw everybody, Mitsuru, Labrys... Kanji, staring at her, and she screwed her eyes shut and curled up inside herself.

"Don't look at me!"

"Naoto-kun!" Chie was trying to keep her voice level. "It's okay. You don't have to be ashamed. Everybody has sides like this, remember?"

"NO. Not like this! I'm not like this!"

Naoto crumpled, a frail, ghost-white marionette with cut strings, and the Shadow straightened her back and raised her head, a surge of black ink in an ocean of stars. One figure stabilized, amid the flashing, ghosts lilting like a silver fin, flashes of lightning in a boiling cloud. It was Naoto in a perfect black suit, ink-black and bleach-white, blinding, though the lines in her face had sharpened, carved out in shadow, and a cape, or a cloak-a lab coat, then a duster, then an opera cape-flickered and changed, a broken neon sign.

Rise released her breath. The Shadow was cold, pulled the oxygen from her blood. Yukiko called to her and grabbed her by the upper arm, pulled her off her knees, back into the group. Yosuke was backing up and mumbling "Shit shit shit shit shit-" Chie was saying "Oh my god" in a small voice. Kanji's face was unreadable, drained. He pressed his lips together so hard they turned white.

Rise looked around for the first time since she had grabbed Naoto's shoulder. The nurses at the station were terrified At least one had a camera phone out. Kuma made a quailing noise.

"This is bad," said Yosuke. "This is really, really bad."

"We can't fight in here!" said Chie. "People are going to get hurt."

"No shit!" Yosuke looked around wildly, turned, saw the nurses and cursed. "What the hell do we do now?"

"I've already called Mitsuru-san."

Labrys ran in front of the group, drew her axe, and braced through a blast, a moment, and then, she fell to one knee, the head of the axe smashed to the ground. Her arms shook.

"Labby-chan!" Kuma ran out next to her. Shadow Naoto stared at him blankly. "Nao-chan! Please don't fight!"

He rolled and dodged another wave Naoto sent out, caught himself against the wall and growled. The wave slammed into Yukiko and Rise, and Rise's vision went out, momentarily, and she fell to her knees. It-wasn't an attack, though. She didn't feel pain. But something was distinctly wrong.

She tried to stand, but she was paralyzed, and she stumbled forward, caught herself with her hands on her knees. This was one of those nightmares, where she was running from something, but she could barely move, like she was glued down, where when she tried to strike out, her blows barely tapped her assailant.

"Kanzeon."

She forced her arm up, pulled Kanzeon out of the Lovers card, who materialized at her back and stabilized her. Rise braced, stood as straight as she could manage, and clasped her hands as Kanzeon lowered the visor over her eyes. Information shunted directly into her brain, compacted time, and spread out in her consciousness, snapshots, flickering past her inner eye in fractions of seconds. Mitsuru was cresting the stairs, a white-hot shadow on a heat-map, in the back of her head. Naoto-the real Naoto, crumpled against the wall-was okay, but unconscious. Shadow Naoto was starring them down, eyes flickering among their faces. The energy of furious thought, calculation, showed around her skull as a corona.

"She's debilitating everybody. She means to weaken us before she attacks."

"No shit!" said Yosuke. "What the hell do we do about it?"

"You!" Mitsuru stopped briefly to stare at the nurses. "Clear the floor. Do not allow anybody out of their rooms. This is Kirijo Group business. You, give me your phone."

"Why? Is this something you don't want anybody to see I've already uploaded it online!"

Mitsuru stared at her for a moment, but the nurse would not stand down. She tsked and brushed past the nurses' station.

"Then get out of the way. You're still a nurse, aren't you? Go secure the patients. Kujikawa! What are we looking at?"

"Naoto-kun rejected her shadow again." Rise's hoped her voice was more calm than she felt. I can't cry. Not now. "It's going to try to lower our defenses before it attacks. I think she's sizing us up."

"Do we have an opening to take her out before she can hurt anybody?"

"You can't!" said Kanji. "You can't hurt her! She's just... lost control of her emotions. Maybe we can talk her back down."

"Tatsumi, if your emotions are going to interfere with your judgment, get out of the way." Mitsuru drew her evoker from her belt and leveled the muzzle against her head. "Artemisia!"

The ether shattered out Mitsuru's opposite temple, and Artemisia appeared, in her beak-opera mask and metal-boned corset, a gown flare-armored gold at the hips and shoulders. She flung a sheet of ice at the Shadow's feet, which froze her to the ground; a sheet at the Shadow's torso, which bound her arms. The shadow growled and yelled in that split-voice.

"Don't get in my way!"

Shadow Naoto flung her arms wide, and the ice binding her arms shattered, fell like broken glass.

"Naoto!"

Kanji ran forward and stared up at the shadow. She hesitated, backed up for a moment. The corona around her skull flared, knotted, scrambled, purple with nova-depth, and it burned into Rise's eyes. Shadow Naoto shook her head, growled, and thrust her hand out, but Labrys darted in front of Kanji and took the blow, hard. She skidded back several feet and collapsed to her knees.

"It's all right."

Yu had dragged himself to the door, ashen, tugging his IV stand with him. He held a hand up when people started to protest and slowly lurched through the crowd, toward the shadow. Shadow Naoto stopped as soon as he had appeared; her brain flared, froze in shock. It was stuttering-something beyond that level of consciousness was trying to push through, and jamming.

"Izanagi-no-Okami!"

He held his hand out, though he was barely holding himself upright with the IV stand, pulled the Judgement card into his fist, and Izanagi-no-Okami materialized before him, wavering like a mirage. Izanagi stepped forward on air, dragging his blade along the ground, and the shadow hesitated, backed up a little. Izanagi stopped; Shadow Naoto stared at him. Her brain was white static, now. There was a burst of activity when he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

The air froze for a moment. It left Rise breathless long after it had happened, a shadow, or a memory in her lungs. Izanagi touched his forehead to Shadow Naoto's, and there was a flare of light.

This time the room was cast in natural light, yellow naphtha and mahogany and leather; the fire gave off real heat, glowed orange. Naoto looked up from her tight ball in the massive armchair, and saw Yu sitting across the coffee table. She sobbed and hid her head.

"Don't look at me."

She cried for a few moments, gasped, but Yu remained silent. She looked up again, briefly, and he was just staring at her with deep concern. She hid her face again.

"Get out. I don't want anybody to see me like this. I've already dishonored myself enough."

"Naoto."

Her name cut through a fog in her chest, ran down into her gut. She sniffed and looked up.

"It's all right," said Yu. "You don't have to be ashamed any longer."

"Why?"

Yu seemed to instinctively understand that 'why' was not a direct response to his statement. He waited as Naoto collected herself and swallowed.

"Why did you choose her over me?"

"...Naoto..."

"Why? Was I not-docile enough? Pretty enough? Feminine enough?"

"That isn't it."

"Then why?"

"I don't know. I made my decision, and I am happy with it. I am not leaving Rise, Naoto. You need to let go of me."

Naoto curled tighter. She felt she should try to stifle her sobs, that it would be the noble thing to do. But she didn't. On some level, she wanted Yu to know how much she was hurting; she wanted something that was akin to pity. Sympathy? No, something that cut deeper, that cut Yu with blameless guilt. Yu gave her a moment before speaking again.

"You've ignored these feelings for so long they've poisoned you. You can't help how you feel. You have to acknowledge that. If you don't, your shadow will consume you."

"I love you. You're the only person I'll ever love."

It nagged her that wasn't true, and she wished it was, for some reason. Yu's face was unreadable.

"I never thought I would be capable of being in love with another person-or at least a real person-or at least ever see myself in a relationship with a man that I could live with. Not a man from this era, anyway. Was I at least... ever special to you? For just one day, even, did you wonder about us?"

"...yes. I did wonder. I did love you-I do love you-deeply, for everything that you are. I would never want you to change. You're brilliant, and individualistic, and stubborn, and brave, and you have such a vivid imagination. I feel honored to have seen that side of you. And you will always be somebody important to me, in a way nobody-not even Rise-could ever be. But not like that."

The pain ran mellow from the pool of her heart, soothing down to her belly. The time in her chest compounded, stretched, but it was really only a few seconds before she replied.

"If I can know I'm somebody special to you... I can live with that. I just can't stand the thought of you forgetting me."

"I will never forget you. Not if I live to be a hundred, and every other part of my life passes out of my memory. You will always be special to me."

Hollow stomach, blood rushing from her head. Something almost like numbness, but more substantial, more present and painful in a way that made her feel giddy and worldly and alive. A corner of her mind mourned the sudden complexity, ambivalence, rebelled against the loss of a single burning point of sorrow. Yu smiled, a flicker in her stomach, and held out his hand.

"Let's go back."

The Shadow dissipated, black sparkling in dark purple, and Yamato-Takeru hovered over them momentarily, metal shining and bleach-white, before fading into the upright Fortune card that drifted into Naoto's hands. She clutched it, curling away from the group. Izanagi sublimated in an updraft of light and a flicker of a card. Yu collapsed against the IV pole, hanging by one arm, and didn't let go even when Yosuke helped him up and led him back to his bed. They brushed past Rise, who did not move, did not stop staring at Naoto.

A silent hallway, fluorescent light and navy-flicked linoleum, painted white with sterilized illness. Naoto did not move. Yu looked up at Kanji, briefly, wondering why he hadn't stepped forward, but he stared through Naoto, face drained. Narrowing his eyes did not make them look less hollow, any more than pressing his lips together made him look more indifferent. Chie looked at Yukiko, who just shrugged. She sighed and stepped forward.

"Naoto-kun..."

"I really need to be alone for a while."

Her voice was tiny. Kuma stepped forward, but Yukiko stopped him and shook her head. He backed up and chewed on his lip.

"I'm... sorry, everybody. I'm so sorry about all of this."

Naoto pulled herself up, bracing against the wall, but her knees gave out and Mitsuru caught her under the arms. She murmured something to Naoto, and Naoto nodded, and she pulled her back up and started walking down the hall.

"Yu-kun..." Yosuke knelt next to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "What happened? I mean, did you... talk or..."

"We had a talk we should have had a long time ago. I think she's going to be all right, now. She suppressed this part of her so deeply, it must have been painful to draw it out."

Yu glanced up at Kanji. Kanji was staring down the hallway after Mitsuru and Naoto, drained, face unreadable, but he had set his mouth into a firm line. Yu felt him detaching, trying to harden his heart. He pulled himself up and put his hand on Kanji's shoulder, and Kanji tensed.

"Sempai..."

Igor flipped over the first card-a skull on blue motley.

"Death. The end of a cycle. It seems you have overcome the thing that was holding you back. Not many people break the hold of the Devil. It takes introspection, and honesty with oneself, and a great deal of strength. The move to unchain oneself is painful, and it is tempting to return to the stasis you had existed in up until now, but you may now enjoy the benefits of your resolve. Now that you are unchained, you can begin to move freely through your destiny again. You have become that much stronger. Letting go, as painful as it might be, is necessary to move on to a new cycle. You enter this cycle with the knowledge and humility you have gained in this trial. This is the basis of wisdom. But let me warn you: the Devil will always lie in wait to re-ensnare you. You must be strong."

He gestured for the second card to flip. It was two people staring at one another over goblets.

"Ah. Not exactly subtle, is it? It seems the brooding young man has broken from his obsession. The Two of Cups signifies a union, one with great creative and generative potential. This is a card of joy, and enjoying the sweet things life has to offer. It signifies a time to be cherished. But the future is not yet decided. You must still act positively to grasp the things you want."

He moved his hand over the cards, and they burst. Theo was smiling softly. Igor stared at Naoto with his fingers locked over his lips.

"You have done well. Master Philemon will be pleased. Your potential to unlock the Wild Card has grown."

May 15, 2012 (Tuesday)
Partly cloudy

Naoto felt well enough to leave the hospital on her own the next morning. She signed the discharge papers for herself, and said that Kirijo-san had given her permission to leave when she felt better. Nothing of the sort had happened, but the nurse seemed reluctant to discharge her without Mitsuru's approval, and she did not want to see anybody right now.

She hesitated outside Yu's room for a while, but could not force herself to go in. The nurses had said he was fine, so she was able to put aside a nagging guilt and leave without speaking to him.

School was out of the question. She already had permission to be gone today, so why not take advantage of the opportunity to be alone? She took the train back to the mainland and wandered about the station, but she felt a nagging unease, a restlessness, and could not stay engaged even at the bookstore. The waterfront by the industrial district was every bit the archetype, bright and empty and promising seclusion, and she wanted to revel in the sense of universality and grittiness, and a very faint, distant, potential for danger. She found the perfect abandoned (well-mostly empty, but it was still clearly in use) warehouse and holed up in the corner, behind some wooden pads and a forklift, sighed, and closed her eyes. In some childish way this helped center her, as it had the atmosphere one would expect from a detective novel, and she desperately needed to meditate on the aspects of her 'self' that stood independent of her affiliations with the group.

She could keep herself engaged ruminating for about half an hour, but she started to grow restless, and wished she had thought to pick up some books at the library, or something. It was a cozy place, but without anything to do. She could nudge herself up between the pads in a way that served almost as well as a chair. So she thought, for a while longer, and while her mind was still racing, and would be for a while yet, she needed to go somewhere.

She had been sitting ready and tensed to stand up, but not actually moving, for a few minutes when she heard a dog barking. Outside, to the left, running closer. She peered around the corner, and Koromaru stopped in the hatchway, saw her, wagged his tail, barked, and turned back to bark at whomever was behind him. Yes, whomever-something in the dog's body language indicated he was trying to communicate with somebody. He kept barking, ran a few steps into the warehouse, ran back out, turned, barked.

It was hard to stay cross with Koromaru-any initial prick of irritation quickly sublimated, given his huge smile and unadulterated joy at having found her. There wasn't an ill intention in that dog's head. A human shadow cut the sunlight outside, lengthened, and Koromaru ran fully into the warehouse and jumped up to lick her face as Kanji stepped into the cool dark. She politely grasped Koromaru's shoulders and pushed him down, told him not to jump up like that, and he contented himself with turning small circles, wagging his tail, and putting his chin on her knee.

In retrospect, she wasn't sure who else she would be expecting. She also did not know if this is what she had wanted, deep down-to be discovered somewhere cool like this, as a segue into a conversation. Koro was an immensely calming presence, and she buried her fingers into his fur as she scratched his sides, up under his ears. She focused intently on his back. She felt Kanji loom over her, nervous, and he finally sat down on the floor and folded his long legs beneath him. Neither spoke for a while, and then Kanji started scratching Koromaru under his chin, up around his jaw, and Koro soaked it up. Naoto looked at his large hand, long fingers, but she could not force herself to look up. Her cheeks were hot.

"Hi," he finally said.

"Hello."

Her voice came out steadier than she felt, and she swallowed, heartened by this. Why was he already making her giddy? The idea of moving on from Yu as soon as she reconciled they were not going to be together made her feel fickle, like her feelings must not have been true, or substantial. She wanted to stay in unrequited love, for a while, if only to fully drink the sorrow, let it wash over her. This was too soon.

"You, uh..." Kanji paused for a while. "...you doin' okay?"

Naoto forced her face into an indifferent, casual expression, and looked up. Kanji blushed, but did not look away. He was actually wearing his jacket on his arms, now, and the white uniform shirt underneath.

"You bleached your hair again."

"...what?"

"Your roots were showing yesterday. They're not, anymore. I thought you were going to grow it out."

"Oh." Kanji ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, well, I was, but I didn't want Labrys to think I was growing it out 'cause of her. I've been thinkin' about doing it. I mean, bleach is expensive, and it's kind of a pain in the ass to maintain. Really damages my hair, too. 'sides, if I don't like it, I can always bleach it again."

"I've been considering growing my hair out."

Why the hell she was saying this to him, she had no idea. Kanji kept scratching Koro's stomach.

"Might as well. I mean, it's just hair, you know? Not like it's permanent or nothin'."

They pet Koromaru in silence for a bit. Kanji cleared his throat.

"Besides..." He was looking into the middle distance and scratching his head. "...I think you'd look good with long hair. I mean, you do what you want, you know, don't matter what anybody thinks about it."

This made her want to grow it out more, and she was angry that it did.

"Thank you."

"Mm." Kanji looked at her and smiled. "I mean it, too. I mean, you look good wearin' anything, I'm not saying that you need to, or-"

"I know." Naoto smiled in spite of herself. "It's fine. Thank you."

"I've been considering getting glasses, lately. I mean, I always had bad eyesight, just didn't want to do anything about it. Glasses look dorky. But I shouldn't give a fuck about things like that. Image ain't shit."

"You don't use contacts, then?"

"They bug me. I mean, my eyesight's not that bad, that I can't function, you know? But I get headaches when I read and stuff. And I'm really trying to do more of that. And can't be good for my eyes to always strain like that."

"Are you sure you get a headache reading because of your eyesight?"

Kanji blinked for a moment, visibly working this out, and looked at her sidelong. Naoto was trying not to laugh. He huffed, and glared, but was smiling a little.

"Shut up."

"But how do you sew and embroider, and things like that, if you can't see small details well?"

"I can feel them. Yarn and thread have shape, you know, and I got really good at figurin' stuff out with my fingers."

Her cheeks flared, and she looked down at Koromaru, for once glad Kanji was so slow on the uptake. She also wondered why the hell that was the first place her mind went. She coughed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Well, that's very useful. And admirable."

"Yeah, so, like, I got real good doin' things in the dark, like movie theaters and stuff like that. Or I can like watch TV and do it."

Naoto tilted her head further and coughed to hide her grin.

"You okay? said Kanji. "The dust botherin' you?"

"A little. Maybe we should go outside."

Koromaru shook himself off in the sunshine, sent out a cloud of dust that really did make Naoto cough. She waved it away.

"Koro-chan, you're filthy. You need a bath."

"Well, I guess we can go out 'n do stuff, if you want. I mean, everybody's a little worried about you, but they assumed you just went off by yourself because you were embarrassed, or something. Which is what happened, so."

Everybody. She looked down and pulled her hat over her eyes.

"...yes, let's go do something. I do not want to return quite yet."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...not right now."

"All right."

Koromaru, satisfied that Naoto had been found, trotted off toward the dorm (or shrine, or wherever else he hung out in that area), and Naoto turned on her phone. As expected, she had a spate of text messages (twenty-one), and four voicemails. Actually, less voicemails than she had been expecting. Two were from Kuma, who wanted Nao-chan to call him back, because he was really worried about her, and they could hang out and talk about whatever, really; he wasn't judging her at all. Oh, apparently there is this one movie that just came out, about that guy who did the thing and there was this girl; had she heard of it? He was fumbling his way through a circular, nonsensical synopsis when the machine cut him off.

The second call was him finishing his synopsis, and asking, again, that she call him, that he loved her and worried about her, and he wasn't judging her for anything, anyway, yeah, he'd talk to her later, bye!

Kuma was the only person who could make 'protesting too much' seem genuine. The next message was terse and from Mitsuru-she respected her privacy and need for solace, but as she was under her custody, and given the undue publicity as of late, she wanted to know that she was safe, at least. That one actually made Naoto feel bad, and she immediately thumbed out a reply. The last voicemail was from Kanji. It was brief.

"Uh. Hi. Uh. I uh-just wanted to see if you were doin' okay. Whatever. Just call me back. Or don't. I mean, whatever. Bye."

She could not hide that she was cracking up. Kanji noticed and guessed-correctly, his paranoia informing him well for once-that she had just listened to his message. She dismissed his sputtering and opened the reply Mitsuru had just sent: "Fine. Just be back at the dorm by curfew."

"We have a fuckin' curfew?" said Kanji. "Who enforces that shit?"

"Nobody. I think Mitsuru-san is trying to convince herself she is being a decent guardian. People tend to forget how mature they were when they were younger."

There was a small shopping arcade on the way back to the dorm, faux-quaint, generic European facade, chain-store signs mounted above wooden gables of peaked woodframe buildings. The sun was setting; the cars in the parking lot shone orange and dark, the traffic sounded hurried, tired. Fatigue hung in the space between honks, impatience made salient. They found an ice cream parlor done up in iconic American 50's-retro, white tile and red vinyl and milkshakes served with the extra in a frosty metal mixing cup. But Naoto was sure no waitresses in the 50's in America had worn what amounted to sweet loli, a transparent veneer of maid cafe over a commoditized and fetishized concept of squeaky-clean suburbia through the lens of postwar occupation propaganda. Kanji drank his whole shake, and the extra in his metal cup, and the extra in Naoto's metal cup, in about half the time it took Naoto to get through her glass.

"Why are you in such a hurry to eat? You should enjoy things like this."

"I dunno. I was hungry."

Kanji ordered himself dinner somewhere in that space where they talked about everything-pretty much, other than the obvious issue. She did not realize how much time they had spent until the waitress told them that they would be closing in fifteen minutes. Naoto was wishing she had gotten dinner by that point, but did not want to burden the kitchen with a last-minute order, so they just left. It was full dark, when they got back. Also, everybody, it seemed, was hanging out in the common room, and everybody, it seemed, was unduly amused that they had returned together, at such a late hour. Well, it was actually just Yosuke, Yukiko, and Chie, but it certainly felt crowded. At least Rise and Yu weren't around.

"It's not fuckin' late," said Kanji. "It's like nine-thirty."

Naoto realized how content she was, walking back with him, after they had relaxed through conversation-and that happiness scared her, especially given that everybody else seemed to notice it. Yes, she supposed-content, more than happy, as if that was the one place in the world she was meant to be, at that time. Serenity without the dullness. But none of these gawkers needed to know that-least of all Yosuke, who was infuriatingly smug, and Yukiko, who was doing a poor job hiding her giggling. Wasn't there a word in a European language for 'a face that needs to be punched'?

Kanji seemed to agree, as he was cracking his knuckles at Yosuke the second he stepped into the room, and Naoto excused herself to study. When she returned to her room, she flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, closed her eyes and soaked the silence into her bones. Should have stayed out later. She wanted one more night to center herself before facing everybody. But if things had gone later with Kanji, things could have escalated. That was becoming the subliminal thread to their interactions. Not now. Not a good idea.

I'm fickle. I'm shallow and horrible and I don't know what the hell I want.