Hello and thank you for perceiving this fic! If you came here from Persona, this is going to be about what you'd expect from a fan Persona fic inspired most closely by P4 and to a lesser extent P3. If you came here from Danganronpa, some of the characters may be slightly different from what you expect, but I hope to make something worth your time.

This fic is rated for violence, suggestive moments and language, and such, following the base rating of Persona given that it is the main inspiration for the setting.

The high-speed train's low background rumble was so smooth, so faint, that it almost felt like it was gliding on nothing but air, or maybe ice. But the trees and buildings reached far too high above the tracks for this to be the sky, and the warm early-autumn sun would surely have melted any ice by now.

Those were the things that shattered the illusion. No, he was simply watching the countryside slowly give way to the trappings of the urban jungle from inside one of humanity's greatest conveniences: a deceptively intricate machine that could carry him–within a day, no less!–all the way from Iwatodai City, the coastal city which had been his home until recently, to Enganyama, a small city in the mountains that he had only visited once, briefly, when he was much younger.

And yet, despite all the mathematics and engineering and years of testing and refining, the seat wasn't very comfortable. Nagito fidgeted, straightened up slightly. Better, but if he had to do this again, he'd have to bring a pillow to sit on.

He really hoped he wouldn't have to do this again anytime soon, but it didn't hurt to plan. Anything could, and often did, happen.

The faint high-pitched screech of the train's brakes engaging snapped him out of that reverie. Ah, so they would be stopping soon. He glanced around. Nobody else was reacting yet, various figures chattering, gazing out the windows; there were a few faces downturned into phones, into books, one newspaper. People still read those? Interesting.

There was a light, cheery electronic jingle over the train's speakers, and a tinny recording called out, "Now approaching Enganyama Station."

Now other people looked up. A few books went away, hands went onto bags. He supposed he ought to do the same. This was his stop, after all. He reached under his seat to pull his forest-green wheeled suitcase out, when the train suddenly jolted. The suitcase slid forwards and caught his fingers roughly.

"Ow." He shook his hand off, then tipped the suitcase upright. The train slowed as it pulled up alongside a concrete bank, stained-glass murals depicting abstractions of birds adorning the station's benches and fencing. Then at last it came to a stop. He stood as the doors slid open, and waited until most of the others who were leaving the train had already filed off onto the platform before following in their wake.

Nagito looked around. They'd agreed to meet by the clock, which was… where…? Ah, no, that was obvious on a second glance. A large analog clock above a digital display of the train schedule filled a sizable portion of the platform's far wall. He walked towards it, pulling his bag along behind him. His eyes scanned the scattered people who were standing around rather than coming or going. Certainly he'd recognize them, right? Sure, it had been a while since he'd seen his uncle and cousin, but…

"Hey, kiddo!" The voice was warm and familiar and addressed to him. Nagito turned to face it. There was a tall man with messy, dusty-pink hair, dressed in a clean, subtly rumpled brown blazer and khaki pants, who waved at him with gentle eyes. Beside him was a short girl (bordering on young woman), bundled up in a dark teal hoodie and light summery school uniform, her pale dusty-pink hair nearly straight but for subtle waves that made the tips curl up and adorned with a hairclip that resembled some kind of retro game spaceship.

"Oh, there you are. Thank you for coming to pick me up, Uncle Tatsuo, Chiaki," he said, returning the wave with a pleasant smile on his face. "You really didn't have to. I could have taken a bus from here."

"Hey, it's really no trouble. You've already come a long way," Tatsuo Nanami said. His eyes flickered over Nagito, taking in his appearance. Nagito already knew how he looked: pale, tall, with wild nearly-white hair and dark circles under his gray eyes, baggy green jacket helping to hide how bony and awkward he was. "And I see you're a lot taller than I remember."

"Well, I am eighteen now. It's been what, twelve years?" Nagito tapped his chin with a finger. That sounded right. Chiaki was his age, and outside of the occasional photo, his only clear memory of her was a shy little girl hiding behind his uncle's leg–he'd been just as small then, himself.

"Eleven and a half… I think." Chiaki had to tilt her head up to make eye contact, but she did so with a warm smile. "I'm really glad you're okay, Nagito. I know we haven't had a chance to talk much, but I really was worried about you."

"Sorry. I didn't want anyone to stress about it," Nagito said, more on reflex than anything, then added a quick, "I'm fine now, really. I promise."

He hated seeing that look of stricken concern on the faces of his family when they were talking about his illness. But he didn't have to worry about that anymore. His leukemia was gone, the other terminal illness had been a misdiagnosis, and he'd been stable on his medications for a few months at this point. He wasn't going to die, he could think clearly, food other than plain toast had finally started to taste good again, and he wasn't too exhausted to walk most days. There was no need for them to feel bad now. Right? Right.

"Okay. I'm still happy to see you." Chiaki held out a hand, and Nagito looked down at it. "I can get your bag if you want. I'm sure it'll start to feel kind of normal pretty quickly, but right now, it still kind of feels like a friend coming over for an extended sleepover, y'know? Kind of special? So…"

"That's really not necessary. I can handle it myself, but thank you."

"A-alright." Chiaki withdrew her hand, and wrapped her fingers around the straps of her backpack instead, as if to give them something to do.

"Well, let's drop off your paperwork at the school and then get you home, alright, Nagito?" Tatsuo gently cut in. "We're getting takeout for dinner, since I'll be on call tomorrow and need to get to sleep early. You can pick out whatever you like tonight."

"That's a lot of power to give me, but alright." Nagito chuckled politely. It felt a bit unnecessary, but he couldn't deny that having a tasty meal that didn't take effort to prepare or clean up after did sound nice, and he did feel weighed down by his own clothes.

He found himself lagging behind slightly as he followed them out to his uncle's car, though Chiaki kept glancing back and slowing down to match him, and tugging on Tatsuo's sleeve so he did the same. The colored light filtering through the station's stained glass soon gave way to the bright white of the outdoors.

Nagito gave a quiet grunt of exertion as he hefted his suitcase into the trunk of his uncle's sleek, compact car.

"Are you sure you don't need a hand with that?" Chiaki asked.

"Yeah, got it…" Nagito closed the trunk, slunk around to the side door, and sank into the backseat. Chiaki peered back over her seat at him as Tatsuo buckled in and started the car. Nagito closed his eyes, pretending for the moment that he wasn't being perceived. Chiaki was probably trying to be friendly, he thought, but he didn't have the energy for that right now.

Things remained blissfully quiet until the car came to a stop and the engine went silent. Nagito opened his eyes and looked up. There it was: a tall building with a distinct brick central section, combined with large areas of glass dome windows and the school logo displayed prominently. It was the prestigious and popular Hope's Peak Academy, one of the most well-known high schools in the country. Nearly every graduate ended up finding some kind of success in their lives. He really didn't think he belonged here, especially not as a transfer student in his last year, but Uncle Tatsuo had insisted after agreeing to take him in, and the school leadership had, after reviewing Nagito's life, declared that he was more than suitable.

It sounded kind of bullshit to Nagito, but he couldn't deny that his luck was also kind of bullshit, so it evened out. Probably.

"Do you want to come in to drop your papers off? If you'd rather, I can take them," Tatsuo asked, looking back at Nagito in the rearview mirror.

"I can take them. Really, don't trouble yourself," Nagito said. He climbed out of the car and took his first few steps towards the front of the main building. It was just a matter of dropping off the envelope that was tucked into the zippered pocket of his jacket at the administration office, right? Light exercise was good for his health.

As he headed up to the door, a yellow butterfly flitted past his head, as if they were going the same way.

The interior was clean and well-kept, with an old janitor with a scraggly mustache off to one side mopping the tiled floor. Nagito glanced around, realizing that he didn't actually know where the administration desk was.

"If you're looking for the admin office, it's down that hall on the right," the janitor called. "Can't see why else you'd be in the main building after hours, yeah? Don't think I've seen you around before either, so… new face, am I right?"

"Oh! Yeah. Thank you," Nagito said.

"No trouble. Good luck. Y'definitely seem like the type who'll have a great year." The janitor held up one fist as Nagito walked by, towards the indicated hallway. Nagito chuckled sheepishly, but lightly bumped the offered fist with his own.

"I really hope so."

Nagito barely remembered dropping off his paperwork and making his way back to the car in a slight daze: sudden exhaustion had sunken into his bones, and he'd practically collapsed into the seat, given a vague affirmative sound when asked if it went okay, and nearly forgotten to buckle his seatbelt.

It wasn't too surprising that he'd fallen asleep.

What was surprising was that he was fully aware that this had happened, and that he was dreaming. He wasn't much of a lucid dreamer, generally. But here he was, standing in the darkness, only just able to make out the outlines of his own hands. Somewhere far, far above, there was a sky so faint he couldn't even make out its color.

He imagined himself holding a lamp, the way he'd heard you were supposed to be able to change things in lucid dreams.

Nothing happened.

"Aww," Nagito half-complained.

Then, ahead, a single tiny flame flickered to life in the gloom. It illuminated the contours of something enormous looming behind it, and reflected off of three eyes, vivid red with yellow rings around the catlike slit pupils. Nagito startled, taking a step backwards.

FEAR

NOT

It wasn't so much a voice as an impression that bored into Nagito's head like a worm. He winced. What was this thing?

THIS

SPARK

BELONGS

TO

YOU.

TAKE

IT

AND

BURN

THE

SHACKLES

OF

THE

GODS.

The three eyes blinked in rapid succession, from left to right. Nagito rubbed at his temples, but tentatively stepped forwards. This was still a dream, right? So there wasn't any harm, right? No need to be terrified of the gigantic, looming entity. Yep. He was just going to tell himself that.

He drew closer, slowly, watching the vague contours of the thing for any sign of movement. When there were none, he reached out with a shaky hand and scooped the tiny flame up from below.

It danced in his palm, then grew and brightened, but his surroundings were still eerily dark. There was no pain as it grew larger, and brighter, and finally consumed his vision and body, everything was warm and bright–

"Hey, Nagito–Nagito, we're here, wake up."

Nagito blinked himself awake, looking up into Chiaki's face. She moved back, and he rubbed his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

"Sorry. You looked pretty comfortable, but you'll probably sleep better in your bed, right? Plus, you still need to decide what you want for dinner. If you fall back asleep, we'll put it away so you can have it tomorrow," Chiaki said.

Nagito yawned and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Mm. Yeah, sounds good. …heh. Sorry, I just had a bit of a weird dream. That's all."