Author's Note: So, Akira's Sidestory is taking much longer than I had anticipated (mostly because it's so dang fun to write). Fortunately, I want to make sure we don't leave the main plot alone for *too* long.

As such, here's a look at what certain characters are up to while Ren's telling his story...

xxxx

As one Wild Card was relaying his tale to Misato Katsuragi and Ryuji Sakamoto, another one was busy seeking out a contingency plan...

xxxx

/Outskirts of Shimnaotake, Southern Saitama Prefecture/

WHACK.

Zhuu.

"You're a difficult man to track down," said Yu Narukami, hand hanging loosely onto the straps of his backpack. "Gathering proverbial bread crumbs about your last sightings; weeding out the fakers who were only pretending to be satisfied clients; doing some old-fashioned guess work..."

WHACK.

Zhuu.

Yu slowly blinked at the sight before him, of a man in a faded tee shirt, jeans, and a white lab coat, standing on the overgrown greens of an abandoned golf course. "...I have to say, I never would have expected you as the kind of person to go for playing golf."

"Oh?" said the enigmatic person, adjusting the grip on his driver. "Everyone has hobbies...and when it's nice and quiet, I can impart the energy of the ley lines with the music of the spheres...eeheehee..." He reared his club...swung...

WHACK.

...and launched the golf ball into the air...

Zhuu.

...where it shifted out of reality and into the Metaverse.

"The thoughts of this place, even years after it was abandoned, still demand tribute. And tribute is an important component to thought patterns that reign supreme in a given area, much as ancient empires once demanded tribute from those they conquered. And this little action, meager though it may be, is sufficient tribute for the ambient cognitions...because otherwise, a far less friendly empire of ideas might take its place..."

WHACK.

Zhuu.

"I'm surprised you haven't been tracked down by any of the MAGI, Edogawa-san," observed Yu.

"Mister Edogawa," he emphasized, adjusting his perpetually opaque glasses. "Titles are important."

WHACK.

Zhuu.

"And besides, I'm not doing the thinking that slips the bonds of physicality; I'm too attached to my tendons and bones and organs. But the golf balls aren't capable of thinking about much, so it's a simple matter of having my thoughts do the thinking for them...then, once they start thinking, they're practically begging to enter the world of cognition."

WHACK.

Zhuu.

"...so it seems." Yu had several doubts as to the mechanics behind what Mr. Edogawa was doing; however, given the nature of the world, he wasn't going to question it too far. "At any rate, I'm here to purchase passage into the Metaverse."

Mr. Edogawa paused, lowering his golf club. "For you to speak so confidently means you have insight as to the sort of blessings I can provide. Kāngníng, fù, shòu, Xiūhǎo dé, kǎo zhōng mìng...but such blessings are not cheap. And money of any amount is not a price I seek."

"I know." Yu removed his backpack, unzipping it. "You seek tribute of your own: unusual items, with unusual influences." Without hesitation, he pulled out the domino mask he had borrowed from Ren Amamiya.

"Ooh," murmured Mr. Edogawa, eyebrows wiggling with palpable excitement. "It churns...and yearns for activity..." Taking the paper mache mask in his hands, Mr. Edogawa quietly fondled its contours; with great intrigue, he took a giant whiff of it with his nostrils.

Memo to myself: disinfect the mask before returning it to Amamiya-san.

"The maker of this mask has...experienced a great deal: the ambient power within this totemic icon is vast, yet not shallow...a very enlightening experience." Mr. Edogawa handed the domino mask back, before reaching into his lab coat and pulling out three paper talismans, marked with a language that seemed like ancient Japanese...except not. "To enter the world of the mind, you will need to hold onto this with both hands. You will hear a certain humming in the back of your mind. Follow its harmony, and you will find yourself slipping away."

"...I suppose each talisman can only be used once?" Three is not a bad deal, Yu thought as he placed both them and Amamiya's mask into his backpack.

"Once to awaken into the world of mind; again, to make one's mind fall asleep within the confines of the flesh once more," Mr. Edogawa elaborated. "...I have the strangest feeling that we've met before, in another life. I'm sure I must have bored you."

"Perhaps," said Yu, without elaborating any further. "Thank you for indulging me, Mr. Edogawa."

"All humans indulge. But choosing what we indulge in is where the magic happens..." Taking back up his golf club, he added, "Oh, and do tell Ryoji Kaji that I'm sorry for ruining his wedding."

Yu narrowed his eyes. I never mentioned Kaji...but then again, you once decided to lecture students visiting from Yasogami about the story of Izanagi and Izanami, when you would have had no earthly way of knowing exactly what my team and I were going through. However Mr. Edogawa had come by his odd clairvoyance (through fair means or foul), it wasn't Yu's concern. All he cared about was that he had now had at least three surefire tickets to entering the Metaverse. For emergencies only, he swore to himself. Time to head back to Tokyo-3.

WHACK.

Zhuu.

Thus did the man who had lived through too much leave behind a man who exclusively lived among the strange and quirky.

xxxx

...the source of the Wild Card's immense power was quietly waiting...

xxxx

"...I am so very bored," moaned Elizabeth, idly tapping a drum set with her finger.

"Um...I think I can try and get some more stuff when my Guest returns..." murmured Sokila, her fingers absentmindedly strumming a ukulele. Amateurish sounds filtered through the air, somehow harmonizing with the background accompaniment to the Velvet Room's song. "That's how it works, right...?"

"...to an extent," said Margaret, quietly watching Lavenza as the half-pint Attendant tried making a burger from some Personas in the Compendium. (A 'sudden hankering' had struck, according to her.) "Given the uniqueness of the bond with your Guest...notwithstanding your own circumstances...this Room is far more malleable than it usually would be."

Sokila hummed, looking around for the others...only to realize that Theodore was walking backstage. I wonder where he's going? Picking herself up, the little girl tightened the straps on her sandals before following the tall man into the depths of the Velvet Room.

(Igor, sitting behind his desk on the auditorium stage as ever, simply watched with his typical grin as she scampered away.)

Sokila recalled the hallways that led to the odd arena at the Velvet Room's 'threshold', mired just a tad bit more in the depths of dreams. Theo, alas, had taken a different route: one that led through a circular prison with open jail cells; through the doors of one cell was the innards of a limousine that stretched on forever; emerging out of a distant passenger door dropped them into an elevator that only went down; finally, when the elevator stopped, they stood within a simple blue room, looking relatively plain with pairs of sad and happy masks hanging from the ceiling. However, in the very center of the room were two individuals that Sokila had never seen before.

They were playing a different version, to be sure...but they were doubtless the source of the Velvet Room's distinctive song: a singing woman, clad in a pretty dress fit for a gala, with dark hair curving back into twin points; a blindfolded man in a wrinkled suit, playing at a grand piano with an intent that could only be called maddening yet serene.

"...ah, Sokila-chan?" The girl blinked, realizing that Theodore had seen her. "You followed me?"

"Of course I did, Theo-senpai!" she exclaimed, walking over to hug his leg. "I don't know where this place is, so I had to follow you!"

"...I suppose that makes sense."

"...so why'd you come here?" Looking towards the duo, she asked, "And who are they?"

"...we Attendants were not the first to emerge within the Velvet Room. Besides our master, these two were the first." Theo quietly listened, feeling the song trace contours through the space itself, molding around them in intangible ways. "Their song...is a response and a challenge to the Sea of Souls of humanity."

Sokila tilted her head. "Response? Challenge?"

Theo blinked. "Ah. My apologies. To put it another way...their song inherently soothes the hearts of our Guests, precisely because they interact with the sea of consciousness connecting the minds and souls of man..." He briefly went silent, as though listening for something quiet. "And here, closest to where they play...you can hear how their song echoes off of the heart of a single person...no matter how distant..."

Instantly, Sokila knew who he was referring to. "...can you hear your Guest's heart, Theo-senpai...?"

"...yes. It is a cacophony, and hard to divine...and yet, underneath it all is a broken flute, trying desperately to be heard..." Theo's nostrils briefly flared. "Even if I cannot be there for her, I can at least listen to the cries of her heart and soul from afar, muted and distorted though they may be."

Sokila quietly hugged Theodore in the side, imparting as much sympathy and affection as she could before trotting over to the singer and the pianist. "...hi! I'm Sokila! Who are you?"

The woman answered first. "I am Belladonna~" She somehow managed to keep singing in the same manner whilst speaking. "My duty is to calm the hearts of visitors~ So that they might challenge~ The monster known as the self~"

The man answered next. "I am Nameless; all that matters is my song, born from consciousness itself. Day and night I spend, in a dialogue with my piano, hoping against hope to learn a language that all may understand."

"...it sounds complicated. Why do you do it?" the child asked without guile.

"My purpose Is born from the echoes of the Maker~ To hear the music of the heart~ I must block my ears~ And block out the sounds of the world~ So that you can hear that which is most needed~" said Belladonna in a mellifluous way.

"And I play in response to those same echoes," said Nameless, his fingers moving seamlessly across the keys. "For music is a way to open the closed doors of the heart...such was the Maker's deepest desire, once upon a time, beyond the countless nights which have passed." After a moment, he added, "As for the choice of instrument...there is something to be said for versatility."

Sokila frowned. "Maker? The one who made the Velvet Room? Or..." She had a sudden inkling. "...do you mean...?"

"The one who shut out the world~ Seeking refuge in sounds of his choosing~ Unwilling to face reality~" sang Belladonna. "A song which silences the noise of reality~ A useful balm to a weary soul~ But only in small doses~ For our visitors are merely that~ And eventually must leave our Door~ To face the world~"

"The one who began playing for no reason of his own; doing so only because he was told to; yet finding unspoken solace in its sound, he played for its own sake, without regard for the opinion of others," observed Nameless. "Just as he continued playing without being told to stop, so shall I play until the consummation of the world."

It was a quiet epiphany, of sorts: whether it be because of childish whimsy, or because of her connection to the Velvet Room, she knew exactly who they were referring to.

And so Sokila quietly returned to Theodore's side, listening to the song of the Velvet Room at its most intimate...and wondered, deep down, if she could hear the hearts of those she cherished most.

xxxx

...two of the Wild Card's Confidants—Priestess and Judgement; Anti-Terror Agent and custodian; sisters all the same—were quietly catching up...

xxxx

/Hakodate, Hokkaido Prefecture/

At Kanamin Kitchen — the original, which had existed before it had opened a branch in Tokyo-3 — Sae Niijima was severely tempted to smoke.

"You have that look on your face," murmured Makoto Niijima, quietly nursing a glass of white wine.

"And what look would that be?" she dryly remarked, settling for taking another sip of wine.

"The look that says 'I'm not paid enough to deal with everything so I need to burn my lungs out as a form of protest'," Makoto answered.

Sae rolled her eyes, leaning against the table with a tied motion; her eyes briefly drifted over the interior of the restaurant; despite the classy decor and live jazz band, there was a haunted undertone to the place. As a soldier going overseas for years, only to return and find that a war had not left his homeland untouched: such was the atmosphere of this place, whose menu was considerably more limited than Sae remembered. "There was a recent Acolyte attack?"

"Further towards the downtown area," quietly remarked Makoto, running a finger across the rim of her wine glass. "Just two, fortunately. The minor dead zone their presence created should be nullified within the week."

"And I'm sure the governor of Hokkaido is doing their utmost to keep the civilians calm?"

Makoto didn't say. "It's strange, thinking about the political side of things; even though our country is going to formalize its change to a confederation, there just hasn't been any time to focus on that: between fighting, training, and keeping the peace in the cognitive world..."

Sae huffed, noting wrinkles around her sister's eyes that she couldn't recall. "...I suppose settling down hasn't even entered the equation." A statement, not a question.

Makoto's pointed stare was answer enough; half-formed memories of numerous conversations—differences of opinion regarding career choices; the painful endurance of watching distant family pass away; the realization of just what kind of world they were passing to the next generation—filtered through and were discarded in an instant. "Who has the time?"

Sae briefly glanced over at a booth where a younger couple sat: uncertainty lingered over them like a miasma, yet there was still a sense of fortitude as they spoke with each other. "We can only make time."

"Says the woman who's been run ragged over the entirety of Japan."

"I'm not about to have a 'whose job is more stressful' competition with you." It was a fair point; by this time tomorrow, she would be flying to another prefecture, working to implement the formation and standardization of the Special Custodial Service. "The managerial and administrative work makes me miss field work."

Makoto smiled genuinely. "You were always most enthusiastic when talking about the orphans under your care. I've always said you would have made a good mother."

Opportunities passed by; opportunities lost; opportunities thrown away; memories of such possibilities came and went. "As you yourself said...who has the time?" Even so, she took some time out of every day to follow up with her old 'caseload'; the current wards of Yuko Nishiwaki and Kazushi Miyamoto came to mind. Mana Kirishima, Mayumi Yamagishi, Toji Suzuhara, and Sakura Suzuhara. All of them, living in Tokyo-3: the epicenter of the most spectacular events in the country. And all because of the presence of the Evangelion-users...

"...you're thinking of something serious," remarked Makoto.

"Everything is serious," tritely retorted Sae. "...but if you ever end up in Tokyo-3, would you mind looking into a few things for me? As a personal favor?"

Makoto's expression softened. "Sis...you don't have to ask. Of course I would...but it's fine you mention that..." Sipping the last of her wine, Makoto idly observed, "It's funny: even though I've been an A.T. Agent for a long time now...the few times I've interacted with Shinji Ikari or his comrades seem to stick out the most in my memory. Doesn't that seem funny?"

"...given the events that the Third Child and his fellows seem to find themselves involved with? Hardly," murmured Sae, briefly thinking back to the Fog of Desolation, and her unusual rescue at the hands of the masked man in black, and that strange blue bear. (And why, oh why, did something deep within her soul...flicker, with recognition...?)

Makoto smiled, acknowledging Sae's point for what it was. "True...they always seem to be involved in the most momentous of occasions, whether it be for good or ill..." Thoughts of the wakes for Ken Amada and Junpei Iori came to mind. (Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but ponder...about strange dreams of a life that was dangerous, yet free; as a queen, striking down evil amongst the hearts of the wicked...following the lead of a masked man in black...)

Their conversation slowly trailed on to less potent topics, until it was finally time to depart: the afternoon waited for no one. "...take care of yourself, Makoto."

"You first," joked Makoto.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

The sisters sighed, knowing that they would be doomed to worry about each other for the rest of their days...and yet, they wouldn't have it any other way.

xxxx

...a former Phantom Thief with an unusual perspective on the world was making preparations for an overseas trip...

xxxx

It had been September the 27th for a short while in the time zone of NERV's First Branch; but Futaba Maruki was not the sort of lady to let tiredness or the threat of jet lag distract her from important research!

"Let's see, let's see...I wonder if I can set this to keep compiling while I'm away...?" Did my settings revert back to 'automated Rest Mode' after the recent system update? Better double-check. "Hmm..."

Their current itinerary had them scheduled to arrive in Tokyo-3 on the 1st of October; given the pending constitutional referendum that was to occur on September the 29th, it would give them some wiggle room to determine if there would be any potential passport issues that would arise.

"...I wonder if I can possibly get it done before we leave if I overclock the CPU..." It had been at least several months since the I.T. Department had gotten on her case for 'unnecessary performance alterations of NERV's hardware'; she'd probably earned freebie or two by now, surely? "Hmm...gonna risk it."

Needless to say, Futaba had been working like a woman possessed ever since the impromptu decision had been made to travel to Tokyo-3. Not only had the odd little wavelength shared by the Second and Third Children gotten her curious, but something else about the Third Child had become noticeable during her recent data scans.

Namely—on a whim—she had requested the cognitive and metaphysical data profiles that Ritsuko Akagi had been gathering from the Evangelion-users' Party Members™. With all of the neurological and spiriological scans that woman had performed to track their baselines, there was a plethora of data available for Kensuke Aida, Toji Suzuhara, Mana Kirishima, and Mayumi Yamagishi. By comparison, Hikari Horaki's sample size was too small to get any useful trends or correlations established, but that would soon change.

And after running her own particular suite of analyses and macros and executables on their profiles, she had begun to tease out...certain oddities, within the data: patterns that didn't correspond to anything she had a name for in all of her years of study.

(A long time ago, she had asked her mother about how you could tell if you and someone were friends. Wakaba Isshiki had promptly launched into an explanation regarding how each particular person had a mental image of other people within their cognition, and that it was possible to draw correlations between subconscious emotional states and those cognitions to determine if you truly saw such persons as 'friends'. Armed with this knowledge, she had demanded a test to see if she and Yui Ikari and Ritsuko Akagi were truly friends. Wakaba, fortunately, had told her that there were easier ways for children to find out if they were friends or not.)

(Alas, that had been a simpler time...for you, and for many other people...)

There was a whole portfolio of cognitive categories regarding how one could see other people: friend, enemy, frenemy, 'it's complicated', 'I love him but I also hate him', 'that douche is the best', 'that douche is a bitch', 'that bitch is a douche', and so on (albeit in much more professional language). Amidst the normal cognitive categories that Shinji Ikari possessed regarding his comrades, there was...something else. (Something that would not have appeared had such disparate datasets been combined and analyzed in such a way; something that might not have ever become known, were it anyone but Futaba looking at it.)

Not a neural wavelength, or anything purely physiological; there was something far grander about it, if that even made any sense. The closest analogue that Futaba could think of was of some kind of 'stat gauge' from a role-playing game, with ten distinct ranks.

Why ten, one might ask?

Well, it had to do with one particular Kensuke Aida, because every single cognitive and metaphysical scan he had on record was timestamped.

The scans from shortly after the boy had first gotten his Persona, and signed on with NERV: one rank. The scans from early July, after Mana Kirishima and Toji Suzuhara had become Party Members™: three ranks. The scans from August the 23rd, taken after the children had returned from their climactic summer vacation: seven ranks. And so on and so forth, until the scans from just after Kensuke Aida had had his Second Awakening on the last day of August: ten ranks.

That particular 'gauge' between Shinji Ikari and Kensuke Aida? From that point on, it was simply 'full' (because no other word properly fit), with no other adjustment or change therein, even if there had been subtle or otherwise minor variations in Shinji Ikari's mental image of Kensuke Aida since then. It was utterly bizarre, defying any sort of rational explanation or logical cause.

And that led to the most recent scans that Futaba had obtained as of Shinji Ikari's last spiriological scan, from September the 21st: Toji's gauge had six ranks, Mana's had six, and Mayumi's had had seven.

She had applied this same analysis to all of the data she had from Asuka Langley-Sohryu; lo and behold, she also had a gauge with Shinji Ikari, sitting at two ranks as of the 21st of September. Yet, strangely enough, Asuka had no such gauge with anyone else.

Her work computer was busy running an analysis on the datasets for Rei Ayanami, because her recent passion project had more or less ignored the First Child entirely. If there was a gauge between her and Shinji...then what would that mean? If Rei Ayanami lacked such a gauge with any other person, then what would that imply?

She had no clue, nor any idea: only hypotheses. And there were so many that it made her want to throw up.

Man, this is the life! What sort of mystery surrounds Shinji Ikari? Why does he have so many strange things involving him? There were certain datasets she couldn't access in America, even in spite of her position with NERV; but once she was on Japanese soil, she would lock herself in with the Tokyo-3 MAGI — and to the depths of the dark web's Recycle Bin with Ritsuko's inevitable complaints! — and collect all the data she desired to try and make sense of these phenomena.

Her Other quietly sat in a bunker, surrounded by ancient mainframes.

"...not yet..."

There was secret knowledge, that would not — could not — make itself known.

"However...you're getting closer...but to what? We can only wait...and see..."

She took a can of electronic duster and proceed to clean the mainframes with a strange diligence.

"...I can't wait to get to Japan," said Futaba with a strange vigor, even as her eyes threatened to droop. "But first: time for a coffee refill!" She promptly vacated her private workspace, skipping to the nearest breakroom.

Unfortunately, someone else must have finished the last mug, because a new batch was in the middle of brewing. "Ugh...lame." With a tired sigh, Futaba grabbed a nearby chair, sitting down to wait for the coffee to finish. "At least it'll be nice and hot..."

She was out within twenty seconds.

xx

It took about ten minutes before Director Maruki had been advised of Futaba's situation; when he entered the breakroom, he shook his head good-naturedly at the scene. "Honestly, dear...that brain of yours needs to cool down too." Alas, he could hardly complain as her husband. Quietly removing her glasses from her face, he braced her smaller body within his arms, quietly moving her to the breakroom's couch where she could get some decent rest. Now to get a blanket...

(Taking her to their private quarters was out of the question, alas, seeing as how it was separated from this level by multiple floors a rather circuitous amount of walking; he'd learned that the hard way after knocking her head against a door frame one time too many...)

xxxx

...and, the Wild Card's 'senpai' was hoping against hope that a certain idea had merit...

xxxx

The events of Minato Arisato's first life (even if it wasn't actually his 'first'; all memory of the times before Iwatodai had been sucked away by the Sea of Souls, notwithstanding whatever his actual circumstances in reality were like) never really went away.

However, whether or not it was due to some quirk of fate (or the simple fact he was too damn old), some of the events beyond Tartarus, the Velvet Room, and his Social Links seemed...fluid, in certain respects.

There were some conversations with Takaya Sakaki, for example: had they ever actually happened? Had he dreamt of them? Or were they simply the playthings of an imagination that witnessed the conflict between his fellow Wild Cards and their antagonistic Social Links—Yu Narukami with Tohru Adachi; Ren Amamiya with Goro Akechi—and wondered what could have been? Would Strega's current incarnation have even happened had Minato possessed a bond with Takaya? Or would something worse have manifested in their place?

There was no way of knowing, but his mind was a wretched prison at the best of times: one that tortured him with memories of sweet bliss, only to lightly whisper that it was all an illusion, that he would never be getting it back, so why not give up...?

(Fortunately, listening to music was an excellent way of getting himself back on track; managing his more morose moods was simply part and parcel of daily life, at this stage.)

The recent revelations regarding how Minako was his sister weren't helping, either. (How many missed opportunities had there been? Had there been any times where he and Minako had unwittingly crossed paths, unknowing of each other, before he had somehow managed to luck his way into incarnating as a student at Gekkoukan's rival school...?)

Alas, he had enough to focus on: the trace sensations of being the Great Seal (an impenetrable wall that separated a monstrous desire for death from Nyx; faint inklings of his bonds fighting for their lives amidst a conflux of time and space; the power of the Wild Card, borrowed by one he loved...) were odd memories to parse through, especially given his body of flesh and blood. Being the Great Seal had been...odd: the sort of thing you didn't expect to come back from.

But that was neither here nor there; the things he focused on most of all...were the inklings of how Aigis had used his power...and the circumstances that had allowed her to even use that power at all.

The northwestern shores of Lake Ashi were surprisingly quiet today; so much so, that it enabled him to hear his expected guests approach. Their wavering trees on the lakeside knoll could not mask the sound of footsteps echoing off of the old stone shrine. "Hey," he called out, turning back towards them.

Shinji Ikari and Mana Kirishima calmly approached, dressing in casual clothing fit for late September; the two kids had always seemed uncomfortable in their own skins, but for entirely different reasons. Shinji moved with a certain tension, as if afraid to accidentally break something. Mana, on the other hand, seemed irritable: ready to fight, but in clothing that wasn't suited for fighting, and was upset by that fact...for one reason or another. A complicated pair of personalities: Wild Cards always seemed to attract them. "Hello, Arisato-senpai," called out Shinji, lightly bowing.

"You wanted to see me?" asked Mana, getting straight to the point. She quietly set LABRYS and AIGIS down, resting them on the dirt.

Minato stared intently at the shield, sensing the soul within. The connection was...tempting, to consider.

But this time, the connection was not for him to pursue. "Remind me: how exactly were your weapons made?" asked Minato.

Shinji and Mana both blinked, as if surprised by the question; although the former looked concerned, the latter simply resigned herself to explaining. "It's not exactly a pleasant story."

"You don't have to cover the details of everything that you went through," he remarked. "Just...the weapons, specifically. AIGIS, and LABRYS."

Mana frowned, unsure where he was going with this. "...Big Sis and Little Sis volunteered for an experiment, to take the place of me and my brothers," she said, gesturing at the axe and the shield. "Their...essences...are bound to each one...and my Shadow was used to bind me to them. And..." Mana frowned, clearly remembering her days working under the aegis of JET ALONE. "...the man who did this to us? He used his own Shadow to ensure our bond would stick."

...well, it was certainly morbid to consider. "You have a lot of messy stuff to untangle."

Shinji looked somewhat scandalized by his blasé remark; Mana was amused, judging by her snort. "At least you don't beat around the bush; my situation is messed up. But you probably know this already...so why did you ask for me?"

"...just trying to ensure we have some contingencies in place," Minato murmured, looking down at the shield (remembering how Aigis had become a Wild Card...and the entity...person...that served as a catalyst) with a pensive expression. Finally, he said, "I'm going to say a name; I need you to tell me if triggers any odd feelings within you." Here goes. "Does the name Metis ring any bells?"

xxxx

...and so the Wild Card's tale to Misato and Ryuji continues on...

xxxx

TO BE CONTINUED

xxxx

Author's Note: I imagine we'll have at least a couple more Interludes before Akira's Sidestory is all said and done.

/I want to get back to the main plot as well
/but this Sidestory is seriously so much fun...
/but we'll be getting more crossover-relevant bits as the Sidestory continues on, thankfully