Xaxiel: Thank you.

Beary: Eh, something like that is planned. Sorta. You'll see (unless I change my mind).


Nightmare.

That's the only word that could describe what this what. What this thing was.

Gone were the feral slashes and the primal stance. The beastly roars were replaced with silent contempt.

Death doesn't try to evade any of their strikes. It merely looms over them in the air, returning each attack with one of its own.

The boys of the team try to band together, their personas charging in all at once; it braces itself with its sword, parrying all of their blows. A simple rotation of its wrist and it swung, slicing through all of them at once.

Death doesn't retaliate beyond that. It allows them to recuperate, watching them wordlessly and descending back to the ground.

What's the harm in letting them hold onto a dim hope, Death thought. It would make snuffing it all the sweeter. They think they can stop it. Let them try.

Retracting its wings, Death marches at a deliberate and steady pace. Its black sockets bare into its prey, taunting them—daring them to strike. With every step, the end of their short lives drew ever closer unless they make their stand and stop it here and now.

And they try.

They stand together once more, striking all at once.

Wind.

Fire.

Ice.

Electricity.

At various times they strike directly, seeking to cut, skewer, and crush its form.

It's almost enough to warrant a chuckle. They've grown so strong; together, they fell all that stood in their way. And now, they are in the battle for their lives, and it still isn't enough.

Human strength comes from overcoming one's inner struggles—with struggle comes pain. Strength can only be gained through pain.

Betrayal. Loneliness. Envy. Guilt.

None of their struggles compare to the pain it has felt. Their strength cannot compare to its own.

Too weak, these pitiful worms are that they couldn't stop its approach. The weakest by far is Junpei, his persona still unchanged—he's still the fool from the beginning of the year. The thought he had called him a 'friend' almost makes it want to puke.

Trials unfinished. Growth stunted. Easy prey.

In a flash, Death in him, piercing the tip of its sword into his body. Just the tip—too much and it would start to sever the body. Death wants to watch the life slowly bleed away from him.

"Junpei!"

Who was it that called out to him? What were the names of these things he thought to form an attachment to?

As of now, only two names matter to it.

And only one of those was staring back at it with those wide ruby eyes.


"Get out."

The dam is breaking. The droplets of water become streams trailing down and eroding the walls.

Minato growls, covering his ears in vain to block out the screams echoing through his skull. "Get out…"

The images were different this time. Flickering in and out of visibility, the silhouettes move in slides, accompanied by distant screams of his name.

But this time, there were new silhouettes; new voices have come to taunt him by calling out his name. Shapes that were new but still familiar took form, all lying on the ground in a pool of what could only be blood.

Details gradually began appearing on the silhouettes one at a time.

Yukari's familiar choker gave her away before the color finally set in, half her face burnt to a crisp and the other half wet with tears. She must have been in agony before letting go, her eye still wide open.

Junpei's hat lay several feet away from him, his body possessing a large cavity that could have only been made by an inhumanly large blade.

More and more bodies litter about. Little Ken's hurt but alive, watching helplessly as Kotone is grabbed by the throat by—

"SHUT. UP!" Minato growls, slamming his head into the wall. A loud thud cracks through the air, joined by the boy's grunts of pain. Minato nurses the forming bruise with his hand as he walks to his room's sink.

Turning on the faucet, he finds only crimson liquid flowing through and down the drain. He had forgotten for a moment that the Dark Hour had already manifested, turning most water into the red ichor it is now.

"Dammit," he cursed, looming over the sink with his arms to support himself. He doesn't need to look back to know there are a pair of eyes digging into his back. "Get out of my head."

The phantasm was as defiant as usual. "I thought you said you wouldn't let anyone else pay for your mistakes."

So that's how it's going to be? Pouring salt into the gaping wound they made without knowing? His fingernails cry out in pain as he digs them into the edges of the sink. "They asked me to stay."

"Really? That's your excuse?" She asks skeptically, the unusual venom laced in her voice almost makes him wince. "Looking for excuses now, huh? I thought you'd change, but you're still looking for a reason to run away."

Enough is enough. Every word that is spoken by this ghost from the past only adds gasoline to the fire he feels growing. How long is she going to make them go around in circles?! "If that's what you think, you don't know me."

"Oh, but I do, big brother," Minako emphasizes the last two words with a drawl. Hearing those words from his 'sister's' lips is enough that blood trails down his fingertips from how hard he's gripping the sink. "How much more do I have to say before you realize? I forgive you for leaving me! I forgive you for letting me—"

Minato's eyes flash brightly before he quickly turns around, glaring back at the phantom as he would an enemy. "I know! I know, goddammit!"

His hurried pace is accompanied by heavy thuds as he marches toward her. "Is that what you think this is—what any of this has been? Me begging for forgiveness?"

Minato scoffs, followed by a forced, hollow laugh while shaking his head. "I know you would've forgiven me in the end. Me, Makoto—however, you like to put it."

"So why?" Minako asks, the tears in her eyes betraying her voice. "Why any of this? Why can't you let go?"

"Because everything keeps being my fault!" Minato balls his hands into a fist, slamming them against his head in frustration as if he were explaining something obvious. "Forgive me or not, I left you to die. That's something I'll always carry with me."

"Fine!" Minako throws her hands in the air. "You killed me! There! Are you happy now? Is that what it takes for you to go help the girl you claim to love?"

"Oh, fuck off." Minato rolls his eyes, pulling out the chair in front of his desk. He lets out a heavy sigh. "Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"I caused all of this," Minato smiles wryly. "Pharos played board games. Board games with me. He was a little pervert that liked sneaking glances under girls' skirts. He cried when he felt like he did something wrong. Whatever he was before, *I* gave him a chance to be different."

He thinks back to all his times with Pharos. Once sweet memories that were now painfully bitter. Despite all the grief, self-loathing, and destruction, Pharos would always be there for him.

"And what did I do? I ignored it—no, worse. I didn't even notice it. And in my ignorance, all my anger, regrets—all that blackness I felt, I allowed myself to twist him back into a monster."

Minako's expression softens. She approaches with a single hesitant step. "Minato, you know that's not—"

"If not mine, then whose?" Minato asks, raising an eyebrow. "Everything I do just causes more misery. I left you, you died. I wanted revenge, I turned Pharos back into a monster. I chose Kotone over Pharos, and he…"

His voice breaks at the memories. The feeling of someone you once trusted worming their way in and violating your soul is a pain that no creature should be forced to endure. It's hard to determine which hurt more; what he did, or the feeling of betrayal.

"... after that, I went after him with Aigis. I could barely be around him, never mind fighting him. And now look where I am. Every decision I've made has only made things worse."

Fatigue sets into the young boy. His eyes are heavy, aching for long-overdue rest. Every bone in his body calls for him to put his mistakes and transgressions behind him but he can't. Chains forged by his own hands wrap around him, allowing the weight of his burdens to suffocate him.

People keep trying to free him from his shackles, only for him to force them back on tighter than before. He doesn't want to be saved. Whether it be by slitting his wrists or letting Death come to his door, he'll always be trying to destroy himself.

Minako appears to be contrite. Perhaps realizing how futile it all is? You can't save someone who can't save themselves. She's tried, Kotone's tried, and in his way, Pharos tried.

"What do you want?" It's the only question she has left.

"Doesn't matter."

"Answer the question," she demands. This is the last card she has. "You came here months ago for a reason."

"No, Makoto—"

"You didn't help me, you ignored Pharos, and now you're staying here while Kotone tries to clean up your mess!" She bellows at her brother. "Every wound you agonize over is self-inflicted while someone else pays for what you have done. How many more lives are you going to destroy before you take responsibility and do something?"

"Take responsibility?" He scoffs. "I've done nothing but—"

"You've done nothing," she interrupts. "You didn't save me. You didn't kill SEES. You didn't stop Pharos then, and you're not stopping him now. All you've done is nothing and regret it. Now might be your last chance."

Nothing.

The word cuts into him like a dagger.

Months have passed by in a flash and he's achieved nothing. What has he done? He killed Ikutsuki but the gratification Makoto felt had worn off, replaced by the taste of ashes in his mouth.

Killed Sakuya? Strega? No, he wasn't himself then; that would never have happened otherwise.

"All you've done is find reason after reason to tear yourself apart." Minato feels a light stinging sensation from his arm at the mention. Minako sucks in her teeth, "round and round we go. One step forward, one step back. You do the same thing over and over again, then cry when things turn out the same—this is insanity, Brother."

The boy gives his arm a shake, dispelling some of the phantom pain in the limb. But there was no quelling the exasperation that was reaching its breaking point. "You know," Minato brushes his fringe aside, his brightly lit eyes glaring back at the phantom, "for something masquerading as my sister, you're a real bitch."

There's nothing she could say that he hasn't already been said a thousand times. There has been enough repeating of this cycle.

"Brother, please," she calls out, giving the boy pause.

But only for a moment.

"I'm done arguing with ghosts."

Whatever choice he makes, he cannot do it here. This eternal torment of self-loathing must come to an end; this pattern must be broken. One final choice must be made.


The cold or trepidation?

Chidori finds herself unable to keep her hands steady. It takes all her will to be able to put the finishing touches on her final piece without ruining it. Art is the expression of one's soul and this piece is very dear to hers.

"Junpei…"

She looks out the hospital window with an uneasy expression. She can feel it; that whirlpool of emptiness, swallowing all life around it. And Junpei is right there at its source.

She asked him to stay but he still went. Chidori expected to feel angry but she can only feel… terrified. Terrified that something would happen to the boy she spent the past year getting to know—the same one that continued visiting her after her true intentions were revealed.

He must be determined to get himself killed, always charging into danger, ignoring all sense of self-preservation. He's an idiot who…

Who…

… she can't help but pray that he is alright. Junpei had been the only one to visit her every day, the only one to quell this sense of loneliness she's felt ever since she had been separated from Medea.

Chidori sets her sketchbook down on the bed and stands up. Junpei had left her a bag containing her old clothes, hopeful to take her out on an excursion outside of the hospital once her condition had improved enough.

Chidori wordlessly discards the hospital gown. She can't stay here. She has to know Junpei is alright. She can't let this Emptiness take him away as they took away Medea.

Her footsteps echo throughout the hospital, meeting no resistance from the staff safely sealed inside their coffins. Feeling the outside air for the first time in months sends a shiver down Chidori's spine.

Was it the unnatural chill brought by this Emptiness having escaped from its prison, or by the fear of what it must have done to Junpei?

The sounds of her footsteps against the snow are Chidori's only answer.


This took forever to make. Ultimately, it ended up being a shorter chapter than originally planned but I have a way I want this arc to end and I wasn't going to cram it all in one chapter, even if this one ends up being a little short.

Side note: Writing fight scenes is still a major pain in the ass.