Sokila showed him pictures of Junpei Iori and Ken Amada.
"...dying is sad, isn't it...?"
The former was titled 'Da Man', while the latter was titled 'Milk Man.'
"Not sure why I thought about the second...did Mister Amada even like milk...?"
She then turned to a picture of a redheaded girl — Minako? — staring at a gravestone.
"And that girl...she seemed...even sadder..."
The young girl sighed, glancing towards the stage. Igor was watching them in silence.
"I wonder...what she's been through..."
She turned back towards him, hugging his leg.
"I wonder...if she can be helped...?"
The faint haze of blue began to brighten-
xxxx
/Wednesday: August 19, 2015/
/Sojiro Sakura's Residence, Nishiawakura, Okayama Prefecture/
There was the sound of rhythmic stroking on plastic.
Shinji Ikari opened his eyes, impulsively grabbing his phone — 2:22 in the morning?! — and turning on its flashlight. Angling it upward so that he didn't flash it on his friends, he panned the light down towards the source of the noise...only to frown. "Enkai-chan?" he sleepily whispered.
The gray Scottish Fold paused in the midst of his pawing of the plastic tarp, looking back at him with a 'why you mad?' expression.
"...why can't you wait until daylight to do that...?" he quietly said, trying not to wake the other four teens sleeping on the floor.
Enkai promptly strolled over to his bed, hopped on, and laid his plump form across his chest.
Shinji promptly lay back down, acknowledging this as a partial victory.
xx
Little did he know, Ren Amamiya was peering through the gap of his sliding door, watching over the quintet of kids. Well...at least they're seeking comfort with each other. (That was a good sign.)
(You shouldn't be so envious.)
Sometimes, his thoughts at late night could be rather traitorous.
Yet, it gave him the chance to answer an overdue question; looking down at his phone, he opened the group chat with his two Wild Card senpai.
Door-senpai: who died
That question had been sent yesterday. The fact that Arisato hadn't followed up with multiple inquiries was...oddly considerate. (Or maybe he was just trying to delay the inevitable answer.)
Ace up the sleeve: Iori and Amada
Ren quietly shuffled in the dark of night, navigating the ryokan until he was on the back porch. Lying down on the wooden engawa (enjoying the quiet sound of summer's wind caressing the trees), he looked back at his phone to see a response.
Door-senpai: how
Ace up the sleeve: the 'Thanatos' girl that Ayanami told us about
Predictably, Narukami picked this time to interject.
Mr. Bowl Cut: That's not good.
Ace up the sleeve: we got saved by an Angel though
Door-senpai: ? ? ?
Mr. Bowl Cut: Explain.
Ace up the sleeve: later, when I'm back in Tokyo-3
Ace up the sleeve: Ayanami might tell you though
Door-senpai: does she even know
Ace up the sleeve: Who knows?
Mr. Bowl Cut: How are the kids handling it?
What a question.
Ace up the sleeve: with difficulty
Ace up the sleeve: will follow up later
Door-senpai: get some sleep
Ace up the sleeve: who do you think you are, my cat?
(Now he just made himself think of Morgana again.)
(Great job, you idiot.)
Ren contented himself with the song of the countryside, letting the sounds of rural Japan coax him back to sleep. Thoughts of his interactions with Junpei Iori and Ken Amada filled his dreams.
(He couldn't help but substitute Iori and Amada with Ryuji and Sojiro.)
(Even in your sleep, you can't get away from the fear of loss...)
xx
Little did either Shinji or Ren know, but another person had gotten up to check on the youths.
Ryuji Sakamoto couldn't help but frown at the fact that the quintet had elected to gather in the same room. Explains why I couldn't hear Suzuhara-kun or Aida-san from their rooms. As far as coping mechanisms went...well, there were worse ways.
With slow and methodical movements, he used his cane to navigate through the interior of the ryokan, eventually making his way to the front of the engawa. Sitting down on the wooden stairs leading to the concrete walkway down the hill, he gazed listlessly at the nighttime countryside. Without the moon in the sky, there was only the stars and the scattered lights from the village to provide illumination; even at this late hour, he could see the occasional car driving on the Tottori Expressway.
After several minutes, he heard soft footsteps from behind him. "You're up late, Katsuragi."
A distinctive snort broke through the quiet solitude of night. "You could tell?"
"Doubt Kurosawa would be up at this hour; Sakura-san wouldn't feel the need to be quiet in his own house; Amamiya's quieter than you are...and the five kids are currently sleeping in Ikari-san's room. Process of elimination."
"Fair enough." Sitting down beside him, he could barely make out the color of her sleeping yukata, and the can in each hand. "Here."
Ryuji took the offered can, barely making out the contours of a familiar logo. "Still can't believe you bought Yebisu at the local supermarket."
"As long as I'm staying here, I might as well have some familiar comforts. Honestly, the fact I didn't have a single one yesterday is progress."
"Recovering alcoholic?"
"For a given value of 'recover'. I'm...managing."
"Maybe you shouldn't be indulging in it then."
Even in the dark, he could tell that Misato was giving him the stink-eye. "I don't recall giving you permission to be my dad."
"Fair enough. Don't exactly have a good track record with family as it is."
"Join the club." Almost in tandem, they popped open the tops of their beer cans. "To the lost," she said.
"To fallen comrades."
In a sense, this early-morning rendezvous was the opening of Ken Amada and Junpei Iori's wake.
xxxx
As the last vestiges of night waned in Japan, it was still the afternoon of August the 18th on America's East Coast...
xxxx
"The fact that they're not letting me teleport there with Unit-02 is bullcrap," insisted Asuka Langley-Sohryu.
Director Takuto Maruki smiled nervously. "If you're going to stop at the First Branch, this is how it's got to be."
"Do I have to? Why can't I just go straight to Japan? It's obvious that the Americans don't want me around."
"Director Ikutsuki requested your presence to test the newest prototypes of Project Prometheus," he explained. "The preliminary results against Ghosts and Acolytes have been promising enough that some governments have expressed interest in utilizing some Prometheans of their own."
Dr. Futaba Maruki crossed her arms with a huff. "I still maintain that he cribbed my Persona's name for his stupid project."
Asuka snorted. "Sure. It's not like Prometheus is an ancient figure of Greek myth or anything. Because the world revolves around you," she snarked.
"Bingo~" Futaba reached over. "I'll be taking that back now; you've provided some delightful data over the past few days!"
Asuka blinked, impulsively feeling the lack of weight on her head; she had honestly forgotten about the presence of the verdammt 'cat ear headband' after awhile. "Whatever. At least Director Ikutsuki's company will be less annoying."
Mrs. Maruki reacted as though she had been shot. "Such slander!"
It was at that point that Mari Makinami poked her head out of the Searush G200 super mid jet. "Our luggage is packed away, Miss Sohryu!"
Asuka nodded, looking around one more time; standing in Hanscom Field to the northwest of Old Boston (because Americans were rather picky about the 'official' nomenclature; she had heard Boston-1 and Boston-2 almost universally referred to as Old Boston and New Boston around NERV-01, but who was counting?), the general aviation airport was operating at relatively minimal capacity. (Probably because people knew that today would be when she was going to leave using this particular airport.)
(They don't want to be within a mile of the dreaded 'Evangelion-user', after all...)
Sometimes, being a figure of public notoriety (so to speak) could suck.
"I believe you should get going," said Director Maruki, ruffling her hair in a paternal gesture. (She didn't care enough to push his hand away.)
(Sure, THAT'S your excuse.)
"Yeah yeah, I'll get out of your hair. Try to keep your heads above water," said Asuka, shaking both of the Marukis' hands before walking towards the chartered jet. Hopping into the cabin, she immediately grabbed the seat across the aisle from where Sister Mary was sitting. "At least the seats are comfy..."
"Take comforts wherever you can find them," advised Sister Mary, looking at her with a fond smile. "It's sad; I was getting used to the sight of you with cat ears~"
Asuka promptly buckled in, leaned her seat back, and tried to take a nap. It would take about five hours for them to reach their destination in Nevada. To her shock, it was surprisingly easy.
(The rumbling of the jet engines, the white noise of the cabin air filters, the fact that she wasn't relying on her own power to travel...her mind took it as a ready excuse to relax. Just for once.)
xx
Takuto Maruki watched quietly as the Searush G200 pulled away, not moving until it had taken off and become a mere dot in the sky. Godspeed, Miss Sohryu. Turning back towards his vehicle, he hopped into the driver's seat and began the drive back to NERV-01. Futaba, sure enough, was on her laptop, continuing her data analysis.
After a few minutes, her little gremlin-like grunts of discontent — while cute in and of themselves — prompted him to ask, "what's wrong?"
"Just comparing the new data I've got from Asuka with not only her past readings, but also the data I got from Shinji when he was last here in July."
"You've found some sort of commonality?" asked Takuto.
"...not sure. It's a strange kind of wavelength I've never seen before," she admitted, pointing at numerous graphs on the screen. The wavelength in question was highlighted in red. "Once I knew what to look for, I tried to find a similar wave in the prior scans I've taken of Asuka...and it's there. But in a smaller magnitude the further back in the past I go."
"...how odd," murmured Takuto with a frown. "Any idea what it could mean?"
"Given that it's not something in Rei Ayanami's scans, I'm not sure what particular feature that Shinji and Asuka would share that would explain its manifestation. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they're receiving a signal from somewhere that their brains are responding to."
Takuto rolled his eyes. "The human mind and body aren't signal receivers, dear."
"Au contraire, dear husbando! Given how we receive numerous sound and electromagnetic waves and convert that information into a usable form-"
"You know precisely what I meant. We're not robots."
"Beep boop you too," she said with warm impishness.
xxxx
Another place. Another time. Somewhere...that evoked terror unlike any she had ever felt before.
A great hand had emerged from a sea of blood.
It had grabbed...it had grabbed...!
She was screaming, barely held back from diving in by the strong hands of someone else.
xxxx
"Miss Sohryu."
Asuka's eyes slowly opened. (The odd feeling of trepidation was already departing.) "Hmm?"
"We're setting down."
Sister Mary's comment prompted Asuka looked out her window; the setting sun cast the dry deserts of the American Southwest into a brilliant orange glow, with stark shadows cast by the numerous mountains that dotted the landscape. As such, the relatively secluded airport nestled by a dry lakebed was all the more eye-catching based on how out of place it was. Officially, the facility was known as Homey Airport...but to the world at large, it was more well-known as Area 51.
As the Searush G200 set down, Asuka smoothed the wrinkles out of her NERV-issue uniform. Reaching for her luggage in one of the spare seats, she pulled out a particular article of clothing that she had...insisted, on.
(When replenishing her personal supplies at NERV-01, she had requisitioned for a certain type of clothing. Director Maruki had looked rather flummoxed, whilst Futaba seemed positively giddy by the prospect. "I'll expense it out of my own R&D budget if I have to!")
It had come at the cost of posing for pictures ("I need them for reference!" Futaba had explained with a toothy grin), but it was worth it. If they want to see me as some dangerous 'weapon', then I can at least dress the part so they'll think twice before bugging me.
Her Other sighed.
"Maybe the problem is that you come off as too unapproachable? "
Ignoring the voice in her head, Asuka placed on a navy blue military cape — tied in place with a silver buckle around her collarbone — that went down to her knees, donning a similarly-colored peaked cap — bearing NERV's symbol in white — that served as a striking contrast with her auburn hair and white leggings. Stepping off the plane, she noticed the various soldiers and base personnel shoot a look in her direction before looking away: even the armed ones. That's right, you'd better recognize me, Feiglinge.
"Miss Sohryu, Sister Mary," explained a generic-looking guy clad in NERV's familiar beige uniform. "Please follow me to your escort to NERV-02."
Asuka and Mari did so, following the man to a white F-150 crew cab truck; another armed NERV security agent had claimed shotgun, leaving Asuka and Mari to sit in the back seats. As the truck rumbled the life, it was led along by another F-150 and pursued by another; even from her vantage point, Asuka could tell that they were crewed by American military personnel. The three trucks moved along old asphalt roads that were choked by desert dust; neither of the security personnel talked, which suited Asuka just fine.
(Sister Mary rolled her eyes, muttering "so much anti-social energy in one vehicle" under her breath.)
After nearly twenty miles of driving through the desert valley to the north of Area 51, they finally reached their destination: a solitary mountain with many bumps, peaks, and ridges, its surface dotted with hardy shrubs; at its highest, Chalk Mountain was over seven thousand, two hundred feet in height (or nearly two-point-two kilometers). It was within this mountain that the Metaverse Experimentation Facility had been built, administered by NERV's Second Branch.
As armored doors built into the side of the mountain at a narrow crevice opened up, the lead truck diverted to the side of the road, allowing Asuka and Mari's vehicle to pass by. They entered an expansive indoor garage, filled with several other trucks for service. As the doors closed behind them with a thud, the vehicle came to a stop. Asuka stepped out, her boots causing echoes on the concrete; as she and Sister Mary followed the driver (with 'shotgun guy' trailing behind them), they entered a clean but utilitarian hallway, lit by white lights that lent it an antiseptic feel.
Sure enough, the Director of NERV-02 was there to greet them. Adjusting his gray turtleneck and beige suit, Shuji Ikutsuki greeted them with an almost tired smile. "I hope the trip was to your liking," he said in a manner that was one part stilted, two parts tone-deaf, and all awkward. "It's been a while, Miss Sohryu, Sister Mary."
I take it back, thought Asuka with a mental frown that translated to her face. I miss Futaba already.
Her Other and the Beast shook their heads out of exasperation.
"Indeed it has, Director Ikutsuki," said Mari, eager to finally fill the void of silence. "No troubles on the way from Boston, by the grace of God. I hope that Director Maruki already provided you the most recent analytical reports from our stay at NERV-01?"
"Quite so," he said, taking the lead of their little party. They left the hallway, walking through a domed lounge of sorts that was dominated by the sealed greenhouse at its very center: built and facilitated to help provide some natural greenery for the mental welfare of NERV's personnel, or so the saying had gone. The walls were lined with numerous flatscreen televisions and outlets that either provided food services, vending machines, or open-air break rooms. "I hope Miss Sohryu is able and willing to act immediately? If you're still recovering from your air travel, I understand-"
Asuka interrupted him. "I'm good. I napped for pretty much the entire flight."
"Excellent. Little point in wasting time, then; as I'm sure you're aware, our benefactors with the American government are rather antsy with regards to your presence."
"Gee, I wonder," snarked Asuka, mentally recalling NERV-02's rough location on a map; a nine hundred kilometer radius encompassed...parts of northwest Mexico, almost all of Arizona's major population centers, parts of New Mexico as far east as Albuquerque, most of Colorado's western half, the southwest quadrant of Wyoming, the southern half of Idaho, most of Oregon to the south of Portland, and the entirety of the states of California and Utah. So long as she was present here, they would face the risk of renewed Angel Syndrome incidents. If I were them, I'd want to kick me out too, she was forced to admit to herself, even though it rankled her pride (because you're still a hard counter to the Angels; why should you be blamed for the enemy's change of strategy?!).
"No need for unnecessary sass, Miss Sohryu," warned Mari, keeping her hands folded within her sleeves. "It's a trying time for a lot of people."
"Of course," she griped, shooting the combat nun a stink eye. "Sass is what you're for." Looking back towards Ikutsuki, she asked, "so all small talk aside, Director Maruki told me you wanted me to help test something called 'Project Prometheus'. Have you actually made any success in duplicating the powers of an Evangelion?" It would sure take a load off of me, the First, and the Third.
"Indeed!" said Ikutsuki with audible cheer. As he led them out of the lounge and down certain corridors, he continued his explanation. "The Marduk Institute's scans are normally tuned towards trying to find those whose conditions mirror the cognitive and spiritual profiles of the Evangelion-users already known, but there are other anomalies that they've detected as well over the years. Supply has always been an issue, alas; however, with the destruction of the MAGI in Atlanta on July the 8th, and the mass casualty events during the July New Moon, the signals thrown off by these anomalies were easier to identify. With the physical samples obtained from the corpses of the two Angels you, Mister Ikari, and Miss Ayanami destroyed on July the 16th, Project Prometheus has advanced by proverbial leaps and bounds."
"...what kind of anomalies are we talking about?"
"Ah, these anomalies are rather poor, to be sure. They don't make any cents."
Asuka stared flatly at Director Ikutsuki.
"...do...do you not get it?" he asked with anxiety.
"I did. It wasn't funny."
Ikutsuki pouted.
"I thought it was quite a lovely pun, Director," said Mari with a trollish grin.
"Mari, don't encourage him."
"But speaking seriously...I say 'poor', because they're rather unfortunate individuals, all things considered." He stopped outside of a sealed training room, with an adjacent staircase leading up to an observational deck of sorts. "Men and women of various ages whose A.T. Fields and cognitions are...variable. Without foundation."
Asuka blinked, while Sister Mary audibly shivered. "My word...people without a core forming who they are as an individual? What devilry could do such a thing?"
"A very mysterious phenomenon, that we don't have an answer to as to how or why it's happened. That said...it's made them excellent test subjects." Gesturing towards the door, he said, "if you'll go in, Miss Sohryu."
Asuka huffed, letting the doors open so she could walk inside the plain white room, looking much like the reinforced training facilities common to NERV-03 and NERV HQ (even though it had been quite some time since she had last visited Japan). Standing on the other end was a girl with long blonde hair held down by a black headband, wearing fatigues of some sort with body armor (perhaps Kevlar?). The only distinctive item of note was a plain white cross hanging from a choker. I wonder who this is?
"Miss Sohryu, that there is one of our most advanced Prometheans," echoed Ikutsuki's voice from above. Asuka glanced up, seeing the Director, Sister Mary, and a few technicians manning computer terminals behind reinforced glass. "Marie Vincennes, you may engage in combat when ready."
"Wait, combat?" Asuka whirled on her feet to look back at the blonde girl. "But she's-!" Her words immediately died, because the Vincennes girl underwent a transformation: four spindly legs (the limbs of Matarael?) sprouted from her back, elevating to a higher position; at the same time, reflective blue crystal (the flesh of Ramiel?!) manifested over her right arm, forming a formidable-looking cannon of sorts. A cannon that Marie was aiming right at her. "Ah, Scheiße-"
CHYOOOM!
The crimson energy beam struck against something impermeable, rendered impassable by the will of the Second Child.
Evangelion Unit-02 had manifested in a proverbial flash, hand outstretched as though it were a shield; its A.T. Field glowed brilliantly as the light scattered about.
"Okay now," said Asuka, her cape fluttering from the force of the blast. "This is supposed to be a verdammt spar, isn't it-?!"
Marie was suddenly airborne, leaping with such velocity that she was already beyond Unit-02 as the energy beam faded; with a wretched snarl, Asuka's Evangelion grabbed one of Marie's spidery limbs, yanking her backwards to slam her into the ground. The other three limbs bent, bleeding away force to let her land sufficiently softly. The crystalline flesh of Ramiel seamlessly transformed again, hardening both arms from the elbow down into bludgeons akin to maces.
Asuka snorted. "Show her how hard we can hit, Nigoki!"
Her Evangelion 'cracked' its knuckles before stepping forward to engage in battle.
xx
From the reinforced observation platform above, Mari watched with a sense of unease. Every single metaphysical sense within her (honed over years of both religious preparation and spiritual combat) was screaming that this 'Marie Vincennes' was an abomination to the natural order. What a bloody mess. "So...how old is that girl?" she asked.
Shuji Ikutsuki blinked. "Ah. Hmm. I believe she's...fourteen years of age?"
"And her parents or guardians authorized this...experimentation?"
Ikutsuki gave her a small little smile, just condescending enough to be both subtle yet paradoxically obvious. "I'm afraid the general cognitive and spiritual profile of those who qualify to become Prometheans is rather...debilitating, to be honest. If you were to interact with them for any length of time, you'd see what I mean."
"Then perhaps you can enlighten me?" she asked.
Instead of Director Ikutsuki, one of the technicians working on a nearby computer terminal answered. "I can give you an example," said a severe woman (both in age and in tone), clad in conservative clothing over which was cloaked a white lab coat (because the mere presence of white lab coats, even if superfluous, lent an air of legitimacy that reinforced the mental sturdiness of the whole facility: Cognitive Engineering 101!). "One of the earlier Prometheans was a man by the name of Jyun Owada. He was a panhandler in Tokyo-2, always speaking with certain delusions of grandeur, usually about being a member of the Diet or the Prime Minister. Harmless, yet unsettling to speak with for any length of time, to the point other people actively ignored him."
"Isn't panhandling illegal in Japan?"
"It is," said the stern woman, running a hand through her dark yet graying hair, bound as it was into a professional bun. "Which is why when he was inevitably arrested, he was placed into a mental care facility. It's how his profile eventually became known to the Marduk Institute, wherein his overseas transfer was authorized. As one of the first test subjects for the crystalline implants from the Angel designated as 'Ramiel', the amorphous nature of his A.T. Field allowed the remnants of the dead Angel to successfully integrate with his body. However...he only said three words after that."
"...and those were?"
"I am nothing." The woman's brown eyes flashed towards her. "Then he formed a knife out of his new crystalline flesh and slit his throat."
"...that is not encouraging," griped Mari, looking back to the furious melee occurring in the room beyond the glass.
"Now now, no need to make our visitor paranoid," cautioned Ikutsuki. "This is Miyako Kaburagi, one of the senior staff as far as the Cognitive Psience team is concerned. She's just of a stern disposition...so stern, in fact, that if she wore a bow, she could form an entire ship!"
Dr. Kaburagi promptly ignored Ikutsuki's pun (much to his dismay). "My point is that the individuals who bear this sort of psycho-spiritual anomaly are fundamentally unwell. At least here, they can help their fellow man in our existential war against Angel Syndrome."
Sister Mary frowned, hiding her clenched fists within her sleeves. "...to use the unwilling in such a manner is monstrous, if I do say so myself."
"And I sincerely doubt they even have a will of their own," brutally said Kaburagi. "Besides, we live in a world that's made child soldiers legal as far as spiritual or cognitive combat is concerned. We're not exactly in a good position to lecture anyone on morals."
At this, Sister Mary could only scowl, turning her attention back to her charge.
xx
Asuka had gotten a good idea of the general durability and strength of this 'Marie Vincennes'...and it was impressive, for an otherwise normal human.
Which was why when Marie suddenly ignored Unit-02's uppercut — darting around the Evangelion and towards her — Asuka didn't hesitate.
SMACK!
Nigoki had grown in a proverbial instant, to such size that its hefty palm crashed down upon Marie before her right arm — now covered in a crystalline stiletto — could pierce her abdomen. Her Evangelion shifted its fingers, revealing that the collision had cracked the floor...but that Marie's A.T. Field had managed to keep her from being crushed. (The various holes and gaps in the concentric octagons were unnerving to witness.)
"An excellent demonstration! That'll do for now, Miss Vincennes," said Ikutsuki over the intercom.
Asuka sighed, stepping backwards as Unit-02 faded away; in like manner, the crystalline 'flesh' and spidery limbs seemed to recede back within Marie's body, as though they had never been. Freaky. "You good?"
The blonde rose to her feet, looking at her with an uncertain expression. "...a good effort," she said softly, before adding, "for a weakling." The arrogant smirk on her face should have been enough to inflame Asuka's temper.
'Should have', were it not for the lack of any real heat in her words. Marie's aborted attempt at raising her hand (as if to cover her smirk from sight) only made her words seem...lackluster, and almost creepy. As such, they harmlessly bounced off of Asuka's ego. "Sure. Whatever." Turning on her heel, Asuka promptly resolved to ignore the strange blonde.
"...bet you would have flunked out of my PhD program..."
Say what now? Asuka glanced back at the blonde, who was staring listlessly at her hands. "You have a PhD?" Like they'd put a child prodigy into a special weapons program like whatever this Project Prometheus is! "In what field?"
Marie blinked, glaring and then staring quietly. "It's...it's a PhD."
"I get that. But you have a doctorate in what?" she insisted.
At this, the blonde had no further commentary, glaring impotently before sitting down on the floor. Her long hair hid her face from sight, but it did nothing to hide her whispers. "...have a PhD...'course I have one...it's why I'm a Pilot..."
...scratch that, definitely creepy, thought Asuka. (She was going to have to work with her and others like her for however long she was at NERV-02, wasn't she?)
(Even when NOT going on missions, you can't catch a break...)
(And why did that word 'Pilot' strike such a strange chord?)
xxxx
As the night of August the 18th crept over the American Southwest, noon had passed in Japan for August the 19th...and a certain ceremony was underway.
xxxx
/Funeral Home, Mimasaka, Okayama Prefecture/
Sojiro Sakura had been rather insistent on not holding the wake in his home.
("I have a hole blown open out of one of my rooms," he said gruffly to Ryuji Sakamoto and Zenkichi Hasegawa when the discussion of where the bodies would be displayed had arisen. "Plus...it's not like they died in their sleep: they were murdered in my yard. Seems like bad taste to have the wake here.")
Fortunately, the funeral home just southwest of Nishiawakura, although small (as expected of a facility based in the countryside), had just enough room to accommodate a double ceremony.
("That's the hell of it," explained Ryuji as he detailed the itinerary for the day. "A lot of A.T. Agents...well, they don't exactly have good family situations. They tend to leave funeral decisions to their surviving comrades...and if possible, we try to have our ceremonies at the same time, if more than one of us died in the line of duty. We left life together, so we'll leave the world together.")
It was an admirable sentiment.
Yet the mood was still sober, at the party which had gathered within the tiny one-story facility. With Junpei's coffin arranged to the left and Ken's to the right, they were adorned with chrysanthemums and water lilies, all of which bore shades of white.
(Zenkichi looked somewhat...abashed, honestly. "A lot of the locals were glad to contribute flowers; after all, Iori-san and Amada-san were the ones most often working with me. In small places like Nishiawakura, a sense of gratitude's even more important to have.")
This gratitude even extended to the pair of Buddhist priests from the local temple.
("When my shifu slipped the bonds of this world on the 13th, I assumed that his time had come," said the young Buddhist priest, whilst his elderly teacher — clad in robes that had faded with age — nodded gravely. "Amada-san was the one who brought him back from the world of the mind. It is only fitting that we serve at their ceremonies.")
With the elder priest chanting a sutra for Junpei and the younger for Ken, the small hall possessed an otherworldly air.
(Is it any surprise? You're not used to death being this close.)
It was only compounded by how everyone was dressed in black; even he and his fellow teenagers had managed to find some fitting clothes at various shops within nearby Mimasaka and Tsuyama. (Abusing his abilities to transition people through dimensions to quickly get from place to place had been a must; thanks to that, all of their shopping for funeral clothes and related accessories had been done within two hours that morning.)
The ritual of it all was...formal. Almost excessively so, but who was he to opine? He'd never attended a wake before; it showed in how quickly Kensuke and Toji coached him, Mayumi, and Mana on some of the particulars. (Because they had lived through this before, with Kenji Tomochika, with Kensuke's mother, with Toji's parents.)
(After he and Kensuke had withdrawn some yen from their personal accounts with NERV — which, fortunately, were accessible via most ATMs — the bespectacled boy handed the new bills to Toji. "You know the drill." Kensuke then held up five plain envelopes bound in black and white thread. "Here; we'll each put a fixed amount of cash in our condolence envelopes," he explained, handing out one each. "Fifteen thousand from each of us will do; we're not exactly family, but we're sure much closer than acquaintances." As Toji folded and crinkled and smoothed out the bills, Kensuke explained, "it's bad manners for the yen notes to look brand new. Just trust me.")
Mana hadn't really understood, but Mayumi had readily accepted the explanation with a promise to explain later.
(Ryuji, Misato, and Sojiro, involved as they were with other preparations, had given them all strange expressions when they realized that they had elected to provide funds of their own for the wake.)
(Is it not to be expected? You're not mere children, anymore...even if they sometimes forget.)
Thus Shinji sat quietly on the left side of the room, with his fellow teenagers sitting all in a row; on the opposite side of the aisle were Amamiya-senpai, Misato, Sakura-sensei, and the two Hasegawas. Kurosawa sat further behind, accurately judging himself to be someone who was not as close to the deceased. Meanwhile, Shinji was sitting behind the rows occupied by the Bishoujo Senshi Feathermen, the Emporium, Ryuji Sakamoto, and of course the departed's wives: Yukari Amada and Chidori Iori.
To his surprise, others had actually gathered: other A.T. Agents who either worked in the surrounding regions and had heard of the service via the proverbial grapevine; locals to Nishiawakura who wanted to express their gratitude; A.T. Agents and Cognitive Freelancers from further locales who had worked with the two men in the past. One of them, surprisingly enough, had been Makoto Niijima.
(The A.T. Agent had apologized for arriving so shortly before the wake had begun; given that she was normally stationed in Hokkaido, it only cemented the fact that she had used her Persona to speed through the Metaverse at an insane velocity. Sakamoto had said that all was forgiven.)
Thus had the ceremony proceeded: with individuals going forward, offering incense, and performing a brief prayer.
When it was Shinji's turn, he stepped past the two priests and towards the long table, upon which sat candles, two urns, and two bowls of white rice grains with chopsticks sticking straight up; his eyes drifted towards the twin coffins, which bore images of the men as they had been in life: Junpei Iori, with a baseball cap and a toothy grin; Ken Amada, with a solemn yet determined expression. By comparison, the faces on their dead bodies were...serene. Cleaned and clad in white kimonos (and, little did he know, preserved by dry ice lying under their bodies in the coffins), he wouldn't have known that just the previous day, they had been brutally stabbed to death in the heart.
I wonder...I wonder if they're capable of watching us? How did death work, in a world formed from the Collective Human Unconscious and the Sea of Souls? Perhaps he would find out at another time. Clapping his hands together (causing the wooden prayer beads around his wrist to rustle), he briefly bowed. Pinching a bit of incense and bringing it up to his forehead, he placed it into Junpei's urn; he repeated the process with Ken's urn. Standing at attention, he clapped his hands together once more. Iori-san...Amada-san...rest in peace. With one last bow, he then returned to his seat.
Thus did the memorial ceremonies continue.
Once the wake had concluded, Sakamoto — with input from Yukari and Chidori — ironed out the details of the funeral that would be conducted the following day (with the Buddhist priests once again offering their services at a discount; seeing as how their temple was old enough to come with its own crematorium, it was deemed the most convenient way of proceeding), with the trio likewise agreeing to maintain a vigil by the bodies for the duration.
The rest of their party, in the meantime, drove towards Mimasaka to the east, finding an appropriate restaurant to sup at. They decided on Restaurant Paris — a small two-story building formed of red brick, with its sign showing the colors of France's flag — and the proprietors were more than happy to accommodate their numbers. Although the locals from Nishiawakura and the surrounding regions had declined to come along, the A.T. Agents who had previously worked with Iori and Amada had, if only to share their own stories. Thus, amidst plates of sushi (many of which bore French influences, such as game meats, escargot, and foie gras) and sandwiches, the cluster of A.T. Agents, Emporium artists, and Bishoujo Senshi Feathermen shared their stories.
xx
"They actually appeared out of the Metaverse in a flippin' DeLorean," grumbled Misato, sipping from her glass of beer. "You know what kind of impression that sends? A pretty damn cool one."
"...I rode in it, once," admitted Makoto Niijima. When numerous eyes looked in her direction, she explained, "earlier this year around February, my team and I coordinated with them on an operation to take down multiple Acolytes in northern Hokkaido. Though we were successful, we had an unexpected interruption from the Reaper." The other Agents loosed a sympathetic hiss. "I actually stuffed my subordinates Kamoshida-san and Eiko-chan behind the seats and squeezed into the middle so Iori-san and Amada-san could make their getaway."
"...but there aren't any back seats in a DeLorean," muttered Misato.
"Necessity can inspire many things," murmured Naoto Tatsumi, sipping from a cup of sake. "Even tight fits."
Makoto flushed out of embarrassment. "I made sure to apologize to Kamoshida-san for smashing his face behind the driver's seat; he had a really big chin..."
xx
"Amada-san was definitely the more popular of the two with the womenfolk in Nishiawakura," mused Zenkichi Hasegawa, taking a bite of of his duck sandiwch (garnished with daikon and leek).
Ann Takamaki snorted. "Yeah...Amada-kun was definitely more of a pretty boy."
"The old ladies wanted to dote on him, and the single women tried to get on his good side." Zenkichi shook his head. "At least he was reserved enough to not respond."
"It is only natural," remarked Hifumi Kitagawa. "His devotion to Yukari-sensei was without parallel."
Kanji snorted. "Doubt it. He sure as hell didn't dote on her as hard as Junpei did for Chidori."
"Public displays of affection are a dime a dozen," murmured Saki Konishi. "Dealing with the snide comments about how our boss couldn't land an 'actual' man? That took guts."
"Easy now," cautioned Sojiro, trying to ease tensions. "Let's not get bogged down about which man loved their lady more..."
Yusuku Kitagawa nodded, idly eyeing the proportions of his sandwich. "Indeed: their love was as an exquisite portrait viewed from two different angles: beautiful in unique ways!"
xx
"...we always liked calling him Stupei...but even so, he never minded, not really...and he went out of his way to promise us that he would keep an eye out for Ken-kun...so he was kind of cool in his own way..." Sniffling, Rise Kujikawa added, "I wish...we had given him a cooler nickname...!" Then she started bawling.
"Aw damn it, don't start crying, you're gonna get me started," grumbled Kanji.
"There there," said Rio Hayase, patting her fellow Featherman on the back. "Let it all out."
xx
As the stories continued on, Toji Suzuhara excused himself from the table. The teens had largely been listening quietly to the stories of the adults who knew Junpei and Ken, so his departure went unremarked upon.
After a few moments to think about it, Shinji excused himself as well to follow (not seeing Sojiro and Ren's gazes likewise following him). Nodding politely to the restaurant staff manning the doors ("I'll be right back," he said), he walked outside; Toji was sitting on the asphalt parking lot, his back leaning against the brick partition holding some green hedgerows. He quietly took a spot a few feet away, trying not to look at Suzuhara. (Mostly because it was kind of awkward.)
"...someone send you after me?" asked Toji.
"No. It's just me."
"Hmm." After a few seconds of silence, Toji continued. "Can't really remember the funerals for my mom and my pop. That whole time was kinda...fuzzy, for me."
Shinji hadn't exactly prompted this line of inquiry, but it seemed like Toji needed to talk about it. "I see."
"Now Tomochika? That's still kinda fresh...but I was too busy feeling sorry for my own pathetic ass to really do anything but go through the motions for his funeral. Didn't help that the Acolyte left his body in such a condition that his casket had to be left closed."
"...do you still blame yourself?" he asked.
"Sort of. Kinda hard not to, even though I know now there was nothing either of us could have done. If I had run immediately, if I hadn't frozen up, if...if if if. Hard not to ask that of myself. Even now. Don't know if I'll ever stop asking myself." At his silence, Toji asked, "lemme guess: you think I shouldn't be beating myself up, right?"
"...I'm not in a position to tell you to do that," he honestly admitted. "Because I question myself all the time..."
Toji huffed with acknowledgement. "Fair enough, I guess." He gestured at their clothes, remarking, "never thought I'd own two funeral suits now; my custodian actually bought me one for Tomochika's funeral, and taught me what to do and what not to do. But none of it stuck until I went to Lake Ashi during...well, you remember the new moon in June. It didn't feel real until then. But now..." Resting his head against the hardy brick behind him, he mused, "...now, I've been through enough where it seems easier. And that sucks."
"Why?"
"'Cause death shouldn't be something to get used to!" he snapped back.
Shinji was determined enough that he endured Toji's brief vitriol. "...but everyone dies, Suzuhara-san. It'll happen for everyone, eventually." Even in a world born of spirit and cognition, death was still a constant. "Even if everyone in there was sad about Iori-san and Amada-san dying...they weren't denying it." At the boy's mulish expression, Shinji added, "it's like Sakamoto-san said yesterday: we learn how to carry their memory a little bit better, with time..."
Toji blinked. Then he glared. "...were you eavesdroppin' on me and sensei?"
Shinji blinked. Then he remembered. "Oh. Um...I guess I was...sorry."
Looking around almost conspiratorially, Toji quietly asked, "...you didn't tell anyone that I cried, did you?"
"...why would I?" he honestly wondered aloud. (He wasn't one for gossip even on the best of days.)
"Good. It's one thing for my sensei to know, because...well, he's teaching me how to be a better man. If he said I could cry in front of him, then that's one thing; but for Ken to know? For the girls? Nuh uh."
"...honestly Suzuhara-san, I don't think Kensuke or the others would really care. It's not like they'd make fun of you for it." After a few seconds, he amended his comment. "Well, Kensuke might poke fun at you, but I don't think he'd mean it..."
Toji frowned, looking rather thoughtfully at the sky. "...maybe. It's different, though, with people my age. I mean...I can see it now: the Class Rep would see me being all teary-eyed, and she'd go into a panic thinking that the world was endin' or something."
(...this was starting to become a recurring pattern.) "...why do you keep mentioning Horaki-san without being prompted?"
"I was just using her as an example, get off my case," he griped in a not-very-convincing manner.
"Sorry..."
After more seconds passed in a companionable silence, Toji patted him on the shoulder in a good-natured way. "You're a good man, Ikari. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
(He thinks too highly of you.) Nonetheless, he couldn't find it in himself to protest out loud, so he simply accepted the compliment. "Thank you."
"...we should probably head back inside. Wouldn't be surprised if Ken's swiped the sushi off of my plate by now."
"Right," he said with a nod, rising to following his friend back inside.
xxxx
/Funeral Home, Mimasaka, Okayama Prefecture/
The funeral home normally conducted one ceremony at a time, so their private resting room — reserved for the closest family members of the deceased, so that they could watch the body overnight — was rather cramped. With simple meals of dumplings and rice soup provided by the host, Ryuji Sakamoto was sure they were eating pretty crummily compared to their fellows in Mimasaka. Not that the ladies would be up for anything more than this, he privately mused. Grief was such an odd and varied beast, manifesting in myriad shapes and striking from angles you both did and didn't expect.
The gaping void in his heart was familiar: the sign of anguish over lives that would never be present to fill that emptiness. So too was the sound of Junpei and Kenny's banter: annoying at times, but yet another sign of life.
The strangest thing that he found himself missing was their smell, of all things: Junpei had used a particular kind of musk that mixed with his boisterous behavior to form a uniquely masculine scent; Ken, meanwhile, had always endeavored to be the prim and proper sort, disdaining cologne in favor of simple body washes and powder deodorants. Both bodies lacked those lively undertones now: too cold from the dry ice — preserving them from decay — to give off any scents, masked as they were underneath bodies wiped with antiseptic rags and dressed with traditional herbs. It only cemented the reality that they were dead.
He wondered what facets of Ken and Junpei that Yukari and Chidori were missing the most.
Yukari, kneeling beside Ken's coffin, had his face covered with the traditional white cloth, and with the coffin closed; only the partition above the face was open, as though Ken were peeking out from a cupboard...hah. That actually reminded him of an old story of when Junpei — in his days as a single man — had persuaded (or conned) Ken into following along on a foolhardy adventure in the Metaverse, only to somehow (in a sequence of events that still bewildered Ryuji years later) get stuck in a towel closet at a women's hot spring...and not just any hot spring, but one their female teammates had been attending at the time. The utter terror of nearly getting caught by Kashiwagi, Chouno, and Hiraguchi had made for a thrilling tale years later, when Junpei and Ken had been sufficiently inebriated with beer. Not exactly the finest hour for a man who had been in his 20s at the time (as Ken had recalled of his verbal evisceration of Junpei, once the duo had escaped the possibility of death), but Chidori had actually tamed Junpei's wilder side...damn it, he was making himself melancholy again.
Speaking of Junpei, his coffin lid was open, revealing his whole kimono-clad body to all. Chidori was quietly sketching his face, calmly ripping away papers that dissatisfied her sense of aesthetics.
Sipping at his glass of warm beer, Ryuji knew there would come a time when the silence would be broken. The oppressive feeling of sitting in a dimly lit room, fit with only one couch, one bed, and two coffins...it was bound to wear down on someone.
Finally, Chidori crumbled. "...Junpei-kun...had spoken of trying to start a family. As did Amada-san."
At this, Yukari visibly flinched before sighing. "...yes. They did. Awful timing, huh...?"
"It seems...like a bad joke," she murmured. "I was driven to sketch possibilities: of what his child, crafted of my flesh, would look like. And now...I can't imagine anything."
Ryuji leaned on his cane, gazing towards the curtain-clad window; night was almost upon them. Pretty crap timing; the boys finally feel confident enough to try and opt for kids, and then this happens. (If he ever saw that strange girl 'Minako', he had a God's Hand saved just for her...)
"It is strange," murmured Yukari, resting her hands on her belly. "For both of them to go at the same time..."
The words were unspoken, but Ryuji picked up on the subtext pretty well. That would be another kick in the pants: the fathers pass away shortly after they both conceive. The women wouldn't know for at least a few more weeks, but still...it would be too cruel. Then again, no one here's a stranger to losing people.
"The notion of loss is...confusing," murmured Chidori, sketching away as she spoke. "I only remember growing up in an orphanage before striking out on my own; the families of both Junpei-kun and Amada-san perished during Second Impact; your own father passed away as well, Yukari-san. And Sakamoto-san..." The redheaded woman glanced his way, as though inviting him to speak.
Guess I can finally talk, now that I've been invited. "Lost my first wife in Second Impact...lost my second wife years later...lost my entire team, save for Junpei and Ken...now I've lost them as well. My mom actually passed away in her sleep before Second Impact, so at least she went out peacefully..." If a heart attack during deep sleep could be called peaceful, but that was neither here nor there. "So in terms of family...the closest thing I've got left is my new apprentice." (Because Jin Shirato definitely no longer counted.)
"...I'm sorry for everything you've experienced, Sakamoto-kun," murmured Yukari with a tired expression.
Ryuji shrugged, resolving to let the old aches settle; he needed to be strong for them, now. "I've had years to deal with a lot of it."
"...I see. We have all felt loss," continued Chidori, looking at Junpei's face with intent. "Yet we still invite the opportunity for greater loss...when Junpei-kun first entered my life, I was driven to distraction. Then I had him for myself, and the distraction ended...because I knew no matter what that he would be there for me. And now he's not. And now...it won't stop hurting, in here," she said, gesturing towards her heart.
Yukari said, "Chidori-chan-"
"It's not fair," she interrupted with sudden venom. "They were strong...so why did they have to die...why does it have to hurt...?"
"Because it means you let them be close," answered Ryuji, speaking not as one adult to another, but as a more experienced senpai at the game of life to a grieving kouhai. "You let someone be close, it means you're givin'em the chance to hurt you...even without realizing it. And the closer they are, the more they become a part of you...so when they're gone, it feels like a piece of you is missing."
"Who would invite such pain, then?" Chidori wondered sincerely.
"...because they made your life that much better while they were there," answered Yukari, wrapping an arm around the shoulder of the younger woman. "And because being alone sucks," she added, with a sort of youthful impetuousness that belied her more mature demeanor. In this place, and in this time, the need for masks was...minimized.
"...how do I deal with the pain...?" murmured the redhead, her hand still idly sketching.
"You carry their memories with you." Ryuji tapped at his bad leg, recalling his times with Shiho; they were more than a match for the old ache. "Of all the times you shared, good and bad." He thought of Chihaya, and her mysterious smiles and whimsical humor; they still brightened, even in the midst of dark places like this. "You carry that weight...you endure...you keep on going. Because doing anything else...would be disrespecting everything they stood for. That's my opinion, at least."
Chidori mulled over this in silence, even as she stifled a new bout of sniffles; Yukari took this as an opportunity to help her up, quietly talking about how now was a good time to wash her face and maybe lie down.
Before Yukari led the younger woman away, Ryuji asked, "hey. You sure you don't mind what the boys wanted to be done with their ashes?"
Yukari blinked before smiling tiredly, as one recalling the shenanigans of friendly troublemakers. "All of our old family plots were located in Tokyo-1, so it's not like we'd be able to go there...besides, it was because of the Metaverse that Ken and I came together...and through our union, Junpei-kun came to meet Chidori-chan. It's...fitting."
"...just making sure." Once Yukari shut the bathroom door behind her and Chidori, Ryuji found himself alone with a couple of deadbeats (figuratively and literally). "You boys sure knew how to pick 'em..." Raising his glass, he quietly cheered, "kenpai" before knocking back the rest of his beer.
A long night still lay ahead...
xxxx
/Anti-Terror Task Force Headquarters, Tokyo-2, Nagano Prefecture/
Commissioner Kinshiro Morooka walked with his normal bow-legged gait, hands stuffed into his pockets; with his surly glare and substantial bucktoothed overbite, most people swerved around him instinctively. That fit him just fine; that cut down on the idle chit-chat that numerous officer workers and salarymen liked to engage with on a daily basis, ensuring that only people who needed to see him would do so.
Plus, after being in meetings all day (in no small part due to his interruption of the Cabinet yesterday), he wasn't much in the mood for talking with anyone else. Even at late hours, Tokyo-2 never slept; a fact that was reinforced by the glittering night lights of the city formerly known as Matsumoto, shining in the darkness beyond the window. From twenty stories up, it was quite a view; so much so that he could even see the silhouette of Matsumoto Castle, faintly illuminated by the nighttime ambience.
"Commissioner, sir?"
Alas, night was no cause for rest. "What is it, Mishima? If it's not something that can't wait until tomorrow..."
"Oh, uh, well..." Putting away his phone, the feeble yet steadfast secretary handed him a printout. "The Kyushu Superintendent forwarded me this report while you were in your meetings, and the person of interest was someone you've told me to look out for-"
"Mitsuo Kubo," interrupted Morooka, staring at the after-action report with a decided frown: a rogue Shadow had attacked a school in Kagoshima's cognitive double, literally inducing feelings of terror amongst one of the high schools there. (It couldn't be...) "Been a while since I've heard that name." It hadn't been until a local group of A.T. Agents had confronted the Shadow and restrained it that Kubo's identity had become known. "Why'd you think to bring it to my attention?"
"W-Well, when you first hired me, you gave me a list of names to bring to your attention if I ever came across them in certain reports."
Morooka shot him a piercing stare. "You've been under my employ for years now, and you still remember to do that?"
"...um, I thought it was part of the job-"
Morooka tuned out Yuuki Mishima, trying to think of recent events, to try and make sense of things. The effects of Kubo's Shadow weren't noticed until the 13th...but the new moon the next day took everyone's focus...so it wasn't until yesterday that a mission was finally organized to investigate...hmm. "Fan-friggin'-tastic..."
"...um, is there something about Mitsuo Kubo that we should be concerned about-?"
His Shadow was imprisoned at the Great Northern Tower...when's the last time I heard from them, come to think of it? Updates and communications with that isolated facility were sparse and rare to begin with, but he should have heard something if one of their prisoners had...escaped...wait. Wait. (What was this feeling?) (Wait a DAMN second.) "...Mishima, I need you to send a message to all of the Superintendents. Tell them to access the Task Force database and input the search term Siberian Sunset. It'll prompt them to enter their credentials that they were given when first becoming Agents. They'll learn the rest from there."
"...sir?" blurted Mishima.
"Once you've finished, go home for the night. I'll be in my office, burning the midnight oil." Without another word, Morooka stormed ahead, leaving Mishima a properly confused mess. This odd sensation in the back of my mind...you're not even being subtle, are you...? In a matter of minutes, the Commissioner was at his office; with a stern huff, he opened the door.
"Howdy, Commissioner!"
Sure enough, someone was waiting for him. "...you're in my chair, Adachi."
Tohru Adachi grinned, idly flipping a photographic frame up and down. "You seem to have done well for yourself, ever since you locked me up." Glancing toward the wall at some framed newspapers — all bearing headlines marking momentous events in the history of Japan's Task Force — Adachi read, "The Smiling Traitor Caught, eh? Guess I am a pretty jovial kinda guy..."
"...is this about revenge for Mayumi Yamano?"
Adachi snorted. "Hardly; we were both Agents, and we knew that there were risks. That little experiment just ended worse for her than it did me."
"Given the Agents you murdered after the fact, forgive me for thinking otherwise."
"You spend long enough in jail, you tend to have a different perspective on things by the end."
"...did Strega break you out?"
"Yep," he said, popping the 'p' sound at the end. "Pretty nifty ploy on their part! Threaten to attack the Olympics to make everyone paranoid, send some other schmuck to do their dirty work, then orchestrate a jailbreak without anyone the wiser? Pretty clever, eh?"
...so the Great Northern Tower has fallen. That meant the Shadows of some of the most notorious, depraved, and dangerous human beings were now potentially on the loose. If it had taken Kubo's Shadow a few days to reach Japan...then undoubtedly the rest of the world would soon be dealing with a new crisis in the form of hundreds — maybe thousands — of wild Shadows. "Guess that means you're their newest member."
Adachi snorted. "Hell no. I don't owe Strega anything. 'End the world'...'end humanity'...what a boring way of doing things."
"...then what-?"
"See Morooka, I could keep on jawing, but I'm afraid you're just not my top priority. Someone's gonna be visiting soon...and I need to set the stage." With the snap of his fingers, Adachi forcibly transferred them both into the Metaverse.
Morooka ignored the familiar contours and sensations of his office's cognitive double, summoning his Persona in an instant. "Rip 'em apart, Leviathan!" The monstrous and gargantuan red alligator manifested in a flash of blue fire, glaring with yellow eyes at the much smaller Adachi. "Can't afford to hold back, you understand? I'm gonna put you down into the dirt and crush you like the worthless madman you are!"
Adachi chuckled, adjusting his familiar red tie. "See, here's the thing...it always bugged me, you getting axed by Kubo. Sure, the kid was too desperate for attention, and the fact it threw those brats off my trail was hilarious...but man, it always felt like a missed opportunity to not throw you into the TV myself...so it'll be nice to finally rectify that."
...what? "The hell are you babbling about?" growled a confused Morooka.
Adachi chuckled, looking at him with depraved amusement; with the red and black sky of the Metaverse framing his silhouette, he looked utterly monstrous. "Ah...you wouldn't get it." As a great and colorful eye seemed to manifest behind him — flaring with unseen power, emanating a yellow fog — Adachi roared, "let's mangle him...Magatsu-Izanagi!"
Thus began the fateful duel.
xxxx
END OF 8/19/2015
xxxx
Author's Note: ...hoo boy. Adachi's making a play of his own. (And he's apparently rejected Strega? Curiouser and curiouser...) Let's recap:
- "Searush" is the Bland Name Product version of "Gulfstream", which makes a lot of private jet models.
- Futaba is very curious about something with Shinji and Asuka...eh, probably not a big deal.
- Asuka's pulling off a blue version of the Raidou Kuzunoha look from SMT!
- Huh...Marie Vincennes isn't supposed to be here.
- But we have another P5 Strikers character showing up in the form of Kaburagi, who's in a position to compromise! Again...do two data points make a trend? (And Owada gets mentioned too.)
- Ah, Ikutsuki. A pungeon master as always.
- Had to do a lot of research regarding Japanese funerals and memorials...a *lot*.
- Shinji's SL with Toji (Chariot) is now at Rank 5!
- Yukari, Chidori, and Ryuji need a hug. :(
- Adachi remembers the original timeline...oh dear.
Life still keeps on going, with all its craziness!