Yusuke emerged from the fog, blinking eyes dried by long staring. Seemingly a second ago, he'd been watching the Dark Man speak quietly with the crimson-eyed queen, lantern light causing their shadows to dance together on the stone wall behind them. Then the fog had grown, and now he was someplace else entirely.

He was in Master's portrait room. The room Yusuke knew to be more important than any other: Master's master room, was how his brain classified it. When he did come out of the fog, this was where Master often was, busily working on something or other, or yelling at a giant, muscular man with long hair. That happened pretty often, too. But before Yusuke could really manage to look around or figure out what he should do, Master would finish his work or finish his yelling and then look back at Yusuke and the fog would return.

In this moment, Master was dressed in his favorite gold kimono. It gave him a strangely glittery appearance though he was mostly still, standing at the pedestal with the knobs, buttons, and levers. Master was intensely focused at the central painting that hung before him. The image of the painting was slightly muddied due to the swirling oils, but Yusuke could clearly make out the Dark Man, his hat covering half his youthful face, the single revealed eye simmering, grey and angry, seemingly directly at Master through the painting. Below the Dark Man, a round, hairy object was lying on a shiny surface, a few reddish-black drops decorating the ground beside it.

Master's hands were in the air. He made a few odd gestures. The oils of the painting blurred as the image moved. The Dark Man's face went to the side. The round object on the floor became larger and central. The oils resolved into the face of the muscular man Master always yelled at, but his long air was matted with reddish-black gunk and a look of surprise was frozen on the face.

"Atsushi! You…" muttered Master. "...You useless idiot! Killed by a fucking mule!"

He made some clicking noises with his tongue, then slapped a hand down on the pedestal before him. "A Ronin has no standing before the law, dhampir! Nor do humans!"

Another voice responded, defiant, but… warm to Yusuke's ear: "I am no Ronin! I am Kurusu Akira! 743rd son of Lady Kurusu! A licensed exile hunter and acting in legal pursuit!"

Master visibly flinched. His voice a disbelieving gasp: "Kurusu!" Then he looked down, noticed his own hand on the pedestal, and jerked it away. He began pacing back and forth in the confined space, his golden kimono flaring slightly as he reached an end of the small room and spun rapidly to go the other way, one hand compulsively pulling at his long goatee.

While Master visibly fretted, Yusuke felt the fog thin to a greater degree. His eyes moved with greater alacrity. His mind began to sparkle with memory, long-subdued neurons firing experimentally. He remembered… something.

Something had happened: A door had opened, a sun goddess had stood before him, the Dark Man had grabbed him, and their crimson-eyed queen had judged him. And some vulgar boy had been there, too. But that seemed unimportant. But the others? Had that been just a dream amidst dreams?

Master returned to the pedestal, slapping his hand down once more. "Lady Kurusu wouldn't pursue The Law for the sake of one half-blood son!"

"Try it! Disrespect my Mother before all these witnesses and see what happens!"

Master lifted his hand and slapped the side of the podium with angry strength, it wobbled visibly. There was a quiet clicking noise that Yusuke had never heard before, but it was so soft, he didn't take much note in it. Master certainly didn't hear it. Instead, he suddenly went still, chuckled to himself in a pleased sort of way, and then pushed down on the top of the pedestal once more.

"But you, Mr. Kurusu Akira, were not invited into my home…

'...You are a trespasser…'

'And… and… and… and…'

Master's voice faded away into a strange, crushing silence. And though Yusuke could still see with his eyes, the fog which had rested over the eye of Yusuke's mind suddenly vanished entirely and there was just... black. Not darkness black, but nothingness black. Empty. Null. Beautiful. Void.

**Have you finally come to your senses?**

Yusuke staggered as a sudden pulse of energy passed through his body.

**How deviously your mind is averted from the truth. Best you free yourself.**

Free yourself? What is this voice? Free yourself? Free yourself? Free?

Yusuke's mind suffered a struggle of vocabulary, the concept of the word as alien as its antonym. Free yourself? Free?

**A deplorable situation, indeed.**

Yusuke staggered again, this time from a dizziness originating in his head. Memories flooded through. Happy bright girls, smiling at the door. Master at his pedestal. The terrible screaming, crying, like someone trying to scream every last ounce of their throat right out of their mouth. And Master laughing. And a broken beautiful thing, red-splashed, eyes wide, staring, still, curled up on a gleaming floor. And another. And another. And another. Red dripping away into tiny holes. Now the golden goddess, broken and bleeding. Now the crimson-eyed queen, broken and bleeding.

The silent question: Do you want this?

No.

Yusuke's physical eyes noticed that one of the other paintings in Master's galley had suddenly changed scenes. It was now a painting of a front porch as seen through window glass. There were roughly a dozen men in white uniforms standing about, all holding rifles. A brown-haired man in a particularly gilded uniform, sword at his hip, was pounding on the door and shouting something.

"Master…" said Yusuke.

"Not now, brat!" said Master. "ahem... Let us start the game!... and there, you bastard! Let's see how you like the shiki-ouji!

"Master…"

Master spun, face contorted with stress. "WHAT!?"

Yusuke's mouth gaped a few times, more surprised at his own clear head than Master's anger. Normally, the fog would descend about now. Instead he said: "The front door…"

Master's gaze snapped to the side portrait briefly, then turned to glare at Yusuke, then it snapped back to the side portrait. Master's eyes went wide, his red face paleing into a different expression entirely.

"The Council Guard! Why now?! Yusuke, go answer the door! No! You're too stupid to handle this. It will make it worse. I can use the- no! I'm broadcasting! Gah!... There's no choice! Wait here, brat! Don't touch anything!"

Master moved towards the back of the room, pausing. "I can't be wearing this!" And he left.

Meanwhile, Yusuke stared at Master's abandoned pedestal. There was now an opening in its base, one that Yusuke had never seen before, and inside, a blue orb sat on another sort of pedestal, glowing strangely, several wires attached to its surface with crude screws.

**Let us now forge a contract.**

Yusuke took a stumbling step toward the pedestal. Master forgotten.

**I am thou… thou art I**