"No, Morai, don't do it," Past Morai pleaded from the Dream Realm. She knew her counterpart couldn't hear her but it hurt her good soul to watch. Watching the past, which she had nearly mastered, was different. Those events had already occurred, but watching present horrors unfold and seeing terrible actions carried out in her name made her restless and almost broke her heart. Her friends—whom she dearly missed—were watching a shell of herself, unaware that she was also watching from a different place.

"Don't do it, Morai," the doctor said softly. "I can give you something much better."

"And why should I trust you?" Morai asked, her eyes wild with adrenaline and thirst. "I know why you put me through all of this in the first place. It's all a part of your little study to turn me good again. Well, write this in your journal, doctor."

Morai opened her mouth and bared her teeth, but she didn't move another inch before getting hit with a dart. She still tried to carry out her task, but her jaw became too weak. The prisoner looked around and saw that Ingo was holding the offending gun in his outstretched hand, his face the same as the day he pulled the trigger in the streets of Castelia.

"You, again," she muttered before falling unconscious.

Morai woke up in the Realm of Dreams. She didn't even bother to groan or complain about being sent there before she found her past self and lunged at her, grabbing her shoulders and digging her sharp nails into her skin. Before she did any real damage, Past Morai put a finger to her forehead. Morai involuntarily relaxed and she groggily slumped to the ground.

"I just crave one thing. Is it too much to ask?" she groaned.

"It is when you have to take it from someone else who doesn't want to give it," Past Morai answered, stooping down to sit cross-legged beside her. They had both ended up in front of Shadow Morai's statue. "But enough of that. It's all you've thought about for the past thirty-six hours. What about Maria?"

"What about her?"

"Don't play ignorant. You were so close to getting that which you wanted most of all but you didn't! You held back! That's great," Past Morai cheerfully said.

"No, it's not!" Morai snarled, posting up on her elbows. "I was genuinely conflicted. If I continue that, the conflict that tore your soul apart will return to do the same to me. I don't want to end up like miserable you, trying so hard to be good when you felt so evil and deceitful on the inside. It's why you created the whole mask motif!"

"It doesn't have to be that way," Past Morai said softly. "You have someone who cares for you despite your nature, and you just proved that you care about her, too. That alone is very valuable. Worth the internal conflict, even."

Morai reacted as if her counterpart had just slapped her in the face.

"Me, caring? Absolutely not! That's not me, that's you! And that's weak!" she growled. Past Morai prepared to try and calm her down again with the move Light Morai often used on Shadow Morai.

"Then what was that in the garden?" she asked.

"It was...it was...oh, I don't know what it was!" Morai said, crossing her arms and falling back to the ground. Her past counterpart looked at her and smiled, knowing that she knew the truth.

"It's alright to care about someone, you know," she said. "It's alright to have a little warmth in that desolate ice-cold heart of yours. Even if you tear everyone else to shreds—which is ill-advised—I beg of you to please at least keep this one person."

"I see no benefit to it," Morai answered flatly, her arms crossed and her eyes closed.

"I think you will. I know you don't like me all that much, but could you at least try to keep your claws off of Maria? Try to spark a friendship."

Morai recoiled at the thought.

"I've got no skill with that. Might I remind you that you were the one that had friends, and they won't leave me alone!"

"Exactly! So many opportunities for friendship!"

"You're going to make me sick enough to wake up," Morai spat.

"Then let's go to a memory."

Before Morai could object, her past self grabbed her hand and took them both to a memory. Morai opened her eyes to find herself back in the streets of Castelia. She breathed in the familiar cold air and watched as her own self, dressed in her signature suit, walked down the street. She had evidently just finished a night out as she was licking blood from her fingers.

"Remember yet?" Past Morai asked.

"There were at least 15 nights like this," Morai replied. "Of course not."

They walked behind the memory of Morai until she came upon a crying young woman sitting on a doorstep. She had a bruise on her face and when she looked up to see the terrifying figure standing above her, she simply put her head back into her hands.

"Just do whatever you want," she sniffled. "I don't care."

"It seems someone else already has. Where are they?" Morai asked.

"I don't know where he went. Probably out to drink somewhere," the girl answered. Her long blonde hair was beginning to stick to her tearstained face.

Morai started down the alleyway, searching for any hint of who she assumed was the woman's boyfriend, and the other Morais followed her. She passed a few people along the way, all of them recoiling in fear, but she paid no mind to them. Finally, she caught a glimpse of a silhouette stumbling under the streetlights. The trainer quietly caught up to him, pulled him back and pushed him against the wall.

"Hey!" he yelled, reaching for a blade. Morai kneed him in the stomach and took it from him.

"You left something back there. I'm here to return it," she said, punching him then elbowing him in the face.

"A-are you talking about Winnie? She was being annoying! The broad deserved what she got!" he yelled in near-drunken anger.

"The words you spit out are a waste of air. Let me help," Morai said, elbowing him again in the throat with the intention of damaging his trachea. She let go and the young man collapsed to the ground, coughing and holding his throat. She tossed his knife to the stony ground beside him.

"It's too bad you can't apologize now, but I suppose you wouldn't have meant it anyway," she said. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and began to walk back from where she came, but her two invisible counterparts held back a moment.

"Why'd you do it?" Past Morai asked. Morai shrugged.

"Violence is kind of my thing," she answered.

"No, you had a reason for directing it toward him specifically."

Morai sighed.

"As much as people like to preach otherwise, revenge is a sweet thing. That woman was incapable of exacting it in the moment, so I simply took her place."

"Had she not been in the state she was, you would've attacked her. Are you any better than him?" Past Morai asked.

"I never promised to love her," Morai replied. "I don't pretend to be something I'm not. The mask I wear is not one crafted from lies and false promises and an outstretched hand with a knife behind my back. This is why I turn my nose up at love. I simply removed the mask from his face."

Past Morai said nothing. Instead, she began to follow the Morai in the memory who was nearing the young woman on the doorstep. That Morai dropped the now unconscious man in front of he step and sat down silently beside who she now knew as Winnie. She removed her mask and held it in her hands, running her bloodstained fingers over its details.

"Fate is often cast as uncaring and cruel, doling out experiences without a thought as to whether they're good or bad, but it has no sense of such a thing," she said. "But sometimes the die it casts land in such a way as this."

"...That's what your name is isn't it?" Winnie asked, looking over the man in front of her. Morai wondered why she didn't seem too bothered by it, but it looked tame in comparison to her usual acts—although she had done much more internal damage.

"That myth? The weavers of fate?"

"In a way, I suppose" Morai answered. "I took some...creative liberties."

"I'm moving out tomorrow," Winnie said after several moments had passed.

"You've got some time," Morai answered. "He'll be in the hospital for a while."

"...Thank you," Winnie said, leaning forward to peer at the criminal's rarely unmasked face. She gave Morai a small smile that Morai didn't return. Instead, she grimaced at the pain of the effects of the serum beginning to wear off. She got up and looked to see the silhouette of a waiting Rocket grunt on one of the rooftops.

"You should go home, or at least somewhere that isn't a dark alleyway at night," she said. Winnie got up, brushed herself off and wiped the tears from her face.

"Thanks again," she said. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He'll lie here struggling to breathe until he wakes up and gets himself to a hospital or someone finds him and takes him."

Winnie frowned.

"Can you...make sure he gets there?"

"Why would you care?" Morai asked.

"He's an idiot that can't control his temper. I'm leaving him, but I'm still human. I don't want him to die out here or something...will you take him?"

Morai looked up to the night sky in annoyance.

"Alright, fine," she said. "But he's taking himself. Hey, you idiot! Get up!"

The trainer nudged the man in the side with her foot and gave him a couple of slaps to the face. He groggily and painfully gained enough consciousness for Morai to hypnotize him. Within seconds, he got up and began to move around like a marionette being haphazardly controlled by a bored puppeteer. His controller didn't even bother to make his movements look smooth and realistic.

"Thanks," Winnie said.

Morai didn't say anything, instead licking the rest of the blood from her fingers.

"Women looking out for women...I guess?" Winnie added with a hint of hesitation. Morai stopped and looked to the side as if it took her a moment to figure out exactly what she was.

"More beast than anything, I suppose. And you're perhaps the only person so far that has walked away from an encounter with me unscathed."

"Oh...alright then. Thanks again. Please reconsider your life choices."

"You have no room to make such a plea."

Winnie looked as if she agreed then started on her way back home as the man who had hit her wobbled off in the opposite direction. The Rocket grunt above waited a moment, and Morai didn't move as they jumped down from the rooftops.

"There you are," she said, not bothering to see who was delivering her serum this time, but adjusting her vest and tie and offering her arm. "I was wondering why I offered that woman a peaceful hand, but now I see that I was beginning to revert back to my old loathsome self."

Morai's eyes were glued to this memory's version of herself as the Rocket grunt—who turned out to be Scarlet—prepared the serum. If Morai couldn't have it now, watching herself take it was the next best thing. Perhaps that burning sting of pain and the euphoria to follow could be felt secondhand. But as Scarlet held Morai's arm and right before the needle touched her skin, the memory faded away.

"Why did you stop it?" Morai asked with a snarl. It was as if a movie or show was abruptly cut off at the best part, with the annoying older sister holding the remote, her finger over the power button.

"I think that part of your memory should be saved for another time, when you're more used to these experiences," Past Morai answered. "Seeing yourself in that way can be...jolting."

Morai shook her head and flexed her clawed fingers.

"I've been subjected to memories I don't want to remember in both this world and the real one and when I finally want to stick around for one you take me out of it? My dry throat aches and I feel lost without that serum! Without it, new conflicts creeping into my soul! I should have taken the chance with Maria when it presented itself. Now I'm going to wake up in a hospital bed and—"

Morai's eyes became heavier as her past counterpart pressed a finger to her forehead. Past Morai helped her to the cool stone ground in front of Shadow Morai's statue.

"I don't think you've really rested since you—or I—took that serum. You don't have enemies here. No guards or doctors. Just close your eyes and rest."

Morai lied there a while, but she didn't close her eyes. She simply looked up at the sky, something she hadn't seen for a long time before she was in the garden with Maria. Even though she was in prison, she was at least free in her dreams despite being chained by the soul to her past counterpart. This world was as real and vivid as the waking one, which sometimes made switching between them disorienting.

"I suppose you should wake up soon," Past Morai said. "How about asking Maria for a stroll out in the garden?"

"Ugh," Morai groaned. "I meant to tell Arthur that I didn't want her near me again. The opportunity is too...enticing. I could barely stand to be around her."

"That's something that can be worked around, I think," her counterpart answered.

I hope so, at least.

"Last I checked, Lycanroc didn't sit down for tea across from Wooloo," Morai said.

"Oh, that's it! Tea! How about tea?" Past Morai excitedly suggested, clasping her hands together.

"You didn't like tea. What makes you think I would?"

"I never tried it!" Past Morai replied. "Ask her what her favorite kind is, then try that!"

"You...want me to ask Maria for a...tea party?" Morai asked. A moment of silence past before she burst into raucous laughter while her counterpart frowned.

"I thought it was a wonderful idea," Past Morai said with an upturned nose. "And you could offer her a flower from the garden. It's all laid out for you! Don't you want to see those white roses bloom again?" she asked as she gestured to Light Morai's decrepit half of the garden.

No matter what Past Morai did to try and revive it, that half of the garden stayed in a state of decay and death. The dream counterpart figured that the task of reviving it was solely in the hands of the current Morai—with her advice, of course.

"Here, pretend I'm Maria and ask me," she said, offering Morai a hand to stand up. The other trainer shooed it away and did a kip up.

"Say, Maria," Morai began. "Never has the urge to drink your blood been so strong—"

Morai woke up. She wondered if her counterpart had gotten annoyed enough with her to snap her back to the waking world, but she also wondered if that was a power that Past Morai possessed. Either way, the prisoner awoke to find herself in the same position she had been in countless times. She wiggled her trapped wrists and flexed her toes, yawning and waiting as her senses adjusted from the bright Dream Realm to the dim waking world. She was surprised to find that a blindfold didn't cover her eyes, and even more surprised to see that Ingo was sitting at her bedside, softly reading aloud. His hat sat on the bedside table and his coat was hanging neatly at the back of his chair.

"There comes an end to all things; the most capacious measure is filled at last; and this brief condescension to evil finally destroyed the balance of my soul," he read, quoting the infamous doctor from a centuries-old book.

"Ingo," Morai greeted, interrupting his reading. "What brings you here after sending me hurtling into unconsciousness once again?"

"I haven't visited in a while," the Subway Boss said. "The last time I arrived, you had just gotten to Mrs. Sheridan and were locked away in the doctor's quarters. I aided where I could, but I didn't see you."

"I'm sure you were disappointed to find me at the brink of terrible violence once again," Morai said flatly, stretching her fingers in and out. That thirst had returned and hit her like a ton of bricks, but she didn't want to show it. She clenched and unclenched her fist instead, running her tongue over the sharp teeth hidden in her closed mouth. Her breathing became heavier as she struggled to hide it.

"...Yes," Ingo replied. "I was."

"Then why are you still here?"

Ingo closed his eyes and took a slow and deep breath in as he thought over his response. His gray hair, despite sitting under a hat all day, was neatly swept to the side.

"I have to admit that I enjoy routine and the unchanging," he finally said. "Our trains adhere to a strict schedule. We know where each one of them is and where it is going. You, too, adhered to a schedule. You showed up every other morning, hoping to make it to coveted car number forty-nine. I saw you by the afternoon, about the same time each day. We began simply as passenger and stationmaster, your role as a patron of the Battle Subway and my duty to give my all in battle. As time—"

The door opened and the large and blocky silhouette of the doctor appeared in the threshold. Realizing his intrusion, he nodded an apology and promised his return in a few minutes.

"As time went on," Ingo continued, "our battles turned into conversations as we waited for the next stop. You always asked about the trains and how they worked and I explained it all, probably to the point of making you regret your questions. Despite your losses against my brother and I, you still showed up...until you stopped. When I did see you around you seemed bothered by something. Time went on and, well, I suppose you know the rest—if you remember it. The destination that I'm trying to reach with this rambling is that...watching you is like watching a delayed train derail and catch fire. But what good what it do to turn around and walk away without trying to pull you out of the wreckage? Unlike yours, my memories are very much intact. While you're stuck here and have no choice but to listen, then I might as well talk about them."

Morai sighed.

"When you put it that way, I suppose I can begin to see where you're coming from. But one thing you don't seem to understand, which just happens to be the most important, is that the person you knew will never return. If you call me by that old name I will not answer. You can see how I've outwardly changed, but my soul has changed even more. If you're looking for a friend, you'll have to bid farewell to your old one and befriend the one who has taken her place."

Ingo paused to consider his next words, as he often did. He was a thoughtful man, never blurting anything out based on sudden emotions.

"Alright, then," he said. "I'll do that...Morai."

Morai doubted that the Subway Boss would actually choose to become friends with someone such as herself. She knew that he was still going to search for his long-gone friend within her, hoping that he could help bring her back out. If her new appearance and drastic behavioral differences didn't convince everyone that who she was before is truly gone, what would?

The door opened again and the doctor appeared in the doorway.

"You're awake just in time for Mrs. Sheridan's return," he announced.