As you wait for the bell to ring, you unzip your guitar from its case and turn it over in your hands. It's been through a lot over the past couple of days, but miraculously, it still looks as good as the day you unwrapped it.
It was a birthday present, an out-of-the-blue surprise from your Dad for turning thirteen. You and your Mom were shocked. You couldn't believe he had gotten you such an expensive one. She couldn't believe he was letting a guitar into the house. To this day, it's the best birthday present you've ever gotten. Candy apple red and crafted with gleaming rosewood, catching that first glimpse of its beauty through the wrapping paper filled you with elation. Since then, you've taken it everywhere with you. Practicing your guitar gives you calm like nothing else can; wherever you play becomes your sanctuary in that moment.
Holding it close to your ear, you pluck a few strings, letting them resonate into the empty stairwell. You tighten them up and test them again. Perfect. No matter what, you're always able to get it in tune on the first try. Over the past four years, you've memorized the exact feeling, that ever-so particular amount of tension in the pegs needed to create the perfect sound. It's so deeply ingrained that your fingers move there by memory.
The soft sound soothes your agitated nerves as you play, and finally you begin to relax for what feels like the first time since school started yesterday. You decide to start with one of the songs you've been working on for a while. It's not finished (like most of your compositions), but when it is, you're planning to put all of your songs together on vinyl and give the album to your Dad for his birthday in January. Your eighteenth birthday is the day before, and you want to show him what you've been doing with his present over these past five years. You understand that you're quiet most of the time. You're aware that you don't always let your parents know how you're feeling. And now that this Cloud business has reared its ugly head, you're probably going to have to start keeping more secrets from them. But you really do love them, more than anyone else you've ever known, and this once, you want to express that in the best way you know how.
So deep are you in your music, that you almost miss the bell for first period. The soft, quick tapping of shoes across the floor alerts you, and you quickly stow your guitar in case it's a teacher. To your relief, it's Mariko that rounds the corner of the landing.
"Wow. You sound really good."
"Uhh…thanks."
She stands there for a moment, then skitters down the stairs towards you. To your surprise, she buries her face in your chest and wraps you in a tight hug.
"You're okay!" she says, then immediately, she gasps and draws back, her face red. Yours is starting to feel warm, too.
"I – wow, sorry…I just, um…you missed homeroom, y'know, and I started to feel bad about not doing anything, and I told Hayate-kun what happened, and he said you were probably dead…and…yeah."
Thanks for that, Hayate, you think, but in all honesty, it was a fair assumption to make.
"No, it's alright. I'm fine…somehow. I guess I've developed a talent for cheating death lately."
"Don't put it that way!" she says, and punches you on the arm. "I'm serious, I didn't know who those guys were, and you looked like you were scared to death. You."
"I'm not so sure you should use me as a measuring stick for bravery. These have been the most ridiculous and frightening first days of school of my life. I'm not used to this. But don't blame yourself. They were coming after me one way or another, and I doubt you were gonna stop them."
"Hmph," she huffs. "You'd be surprised. I could probably handle a creep or two like them."
"Maybe. But it's just a better idea to leave these guys alone."
"Okaaay. But I could've taken them."
"So, was Otomuji mad?" you ask, trying to change the subject.
Mariko grimaces. "God, she was furious for a bit. But then she got all smug, like she thought you were trying to avoid her."
"Not entirely untrue. I wasn't looking forward to it. She'll be pissed to see me, I bet. Now c'mon, let's get back to class. I'll tell 'em I was having stomach problems."
The rest of the morning passes without much incident, to your relief. Since it's the only the second day of the school, your far milder history teacher accepts your excuse without any further questions and steers the class into a wildly tangential discussion regarding premature hair loss. Hayate, once he's gotten over the initial shock of seeing you back in one piece, incessantly taps you on the shoulder throughout the lesson, trying to coax a story out of you.
"Hey, what happened to you? Mariko-chan says you got grabbed by the Yatabuya."
"That is true," you whisper back.
"But - and don't take this wrong way man, I'm glad you're okay – you don't have a scratch on you."
"I was just lucky, I guess." You're not trying to sound dismissive, but your mind's preoccupied with what you want to discuss with Mariko at lunch.
"I don't get how you can sound so causal about it. Man, when word gets around that you got away from the Yatabuya, you're gonna make a real name for yourself, too. How have we not hung out before?" As if to convince you that he is indeed, someone worth hanging out with, he casually runs his fingers back through his hair and adjusts his sunglasses. You can't remember much about Hayate from last year. You'd think someone like him would've stood out more.
"I don't know how I feel about that…" you say, glancing towards the front of the classroom where your teacher casts an annoyed eye your way. "Anyways I can tell you about it later. Whatever there is to hear."
That seems to appease Hayate, who grins ear to ear and claps you on the shoulder.
"Good, good. I tell you what, you're off to one hell of a start this year."
When the lunch bell finally chimes, yours and Mariko's eyes meet instantly. Grabbing your lunches, you dart out of the room and meet just outside the door.
"All right, Tetsuo-kun, let's go," she says, turning towards the stairs.
You put up a hand to stop her. "Hold on. I actually wanna bring one more person." Mariko seems confused and a little put out.
"Huh? Are you saying there was someone else?" she says, glancing around and making sure to choose what she says carefully.
"A couple other 'someone elses', actually. You didn't know they were there?"
She sighs and looks away. "No, sorry. All that I remember is watching you walk through that store and, you know, that bit on the roof."
You flinch. "Wait - you saw what happened in the store?"
Mariko giggles and narrows her eyes slyly. "Oh yeah. You're quite a dancer, Tetsuo-kun."
"It-It was strategic. To throw the Shadows off their game."
"If you say so. But really, how many other people were there?"
"That we can track down right now? One. It's kinda complicated. Like I said, I'll try to explain things the best I can once we're out of earshot. For now, I need you to help me track down a kid in a wheelchair."
Mariko's eyes go wide. "Really? And he was in a place like that?"
"Yeah. I don't think he was having much fun, either. But he was wearing our uniform, so he's got to be in this school somewhere."
"What year do you think he is?"
You try to think back and recall how the boy looked. He was rail-thin, almost sickly, with tangled black hair that drooped down nearly past his eyes. He had a young face, pale and gaunt. He probably couldn't be older than you.
"Let's try the other second year classes first."
Mariko heads over to the far end of the hall to check 2-C, while you go the other way towards 2-A. You slide open the door and quickly scan the room – he should be easy enough to spot. However, he's not in here, just a smattering of students chatting over their lunches. The student seated closest to the door, a tired-looking girl in round glasses with a mop of short, frizzled burgundy hair, stares up at you from baggy eyes.
"Are you looking for someone?"
"Um, yeah. A guy in a wheelchair, really skinny. Seen him? Is he in our year?"
"Oh, him," she says, and promptly hunches back over her lunchbox as if the conversation was over.
"You know who I'm talking about?" you say, taking a step into the classroom. The girl instantly leans away from you with a perturbed expression on her face.
"Yeah, he's in 2-C. Why do you want to know?"
"I saw him take a nasty spill yesterday," you say, which isn't untruthful. "I wanted to make sure he was okay." The girl glances your way with a skeptical raise of the eyebrow, and then turns back to her lunch as if you weren't even there. An awkward silence descends. Is she ignoring you?
"Do…you not believe me?" you ask. She finishes chewing what's in her mouth and stares at you again, twirling a bit of hair around her finger absent-mindedly.
"I dunno," she says, and takes another bite. "It's just…it seems like he gets harassed. A lot. People who pick on guys like him are the worst."
She stares down at her lunch with disgust, and you understand the feeling. It's hard to believe there'd be anyone your age low enough to do something like that. A roiling, hot anger suddenly claws its way up your throat. In this moment, you'd like nothing more than to find those people and teach them how to act like human beings. The Enforcer that attacked him was berserk, at least. But there's no excuse for this.
"I'm not like that," you growl. As soon as you do, the feeling subsides. You're aware that your fists are balled, your teeth are clenched, and that you've bitten your tongue. The taste of iron is tangy in your mouth. Where did that come from?
The tired girl blinks at you, eyes wide for the first time. She's probably wondering that same thing. "I-I guess not. Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed…"
"It's fine. I didn't know things were like that. It just…surprised me, I guess."
"Tch. It just means you have a sense of decency. This place is like one of those lawless post-apocalyptic wastelands. I hate it," the girl says, staring vacantly out the window. "Listen, if you're looking for him, I think he takes his lunch into the old art room, so maybe I'd check there."
Finally. "All right, thanks."
"Mmhmm," she nods, and immediately returns to poking at her lunch with her chopsticks looking lost in her own thoughts.
2-C. With any luck, Mariko should have run into him, but when you see her coming towards you and shaking her head as you exit 2-A, you know that probably isn't the case.
"He wasn't in there, Tetsuo-kun? Is he a first year maybe?"
"No, someone told me he's in 2-C."
"Well, I didn't see him."
You shrug. "That's fine. There's still somewhere else we can try."
The annex, as far as you're concerned, is a much more accurate representation of Toshima High. It's not really an annex – in reality, it's just the old school building – but most people have taken to calling it that, maybe in some attempt to distance it from the main building. Located behind the renovated main building as if it were trying to hide from the view of passers by on the street, it is a peeling, creaking, dusty monument to the school's past. From the outside, it looks foreboding, the sort of place you'd expect people to consider haunted. On the inside, however, it's a man getting dressed in the dark, its classrooms reflecting a hodgepodge of the most popular tenets of interior design from their respective eras. There's no attempt at coordination or uniformity, just a chaotic amalgamation of peeling paint – and in some cases, wallpaper. Toshima still holds some elective classes here, though. Even with the new renovations, the school still managed to run out of classrooms, which, as far as everyone was concerned, was pretty much par for the course. Nevertheless, most of the annex serves as a treasury for dust, and most students regard it as the place to go when you want to be alone – or if you don't want to get caught.
The old art room is located in the corner of the east wing on the second floor, as are all of the unused classrooms. You and Mariko slip underneath a length of rope stretched across the hallway, a sign hanging from it that reads "Please Keep Out." As you draw closer, you begin to hear multiple voices. You tense up, remembering what the girl from 2-A told you. You hold your arm out to keep Mariko from entering and press your ear to the door. She nods and wriggles underneath it to listen as well.
"What's wrong? Why you gotta be so unfriendly like that? We're just looking out for you."
"Stop…you know what you're doing…" mumbles the voice of the boy in the chair.
"What? What are we doing? We're helping you. Your hair looks like shit, man. Do you ever wash it?"
"Doubt it. You could fry shrimp with that grease," sniggers one of the other boys.
"Now come on, hold still and we'll give you a niiice scrubbin'."
"No! No, no, stop…"
You venture to crack the door open just a sliver so you can see what's going on. Mariko squeezes in under your armpit and you both peer inside.
The boy in the wheelchair is there bookended by two other students, third years from the look of them. He struggles in his chair, twisting desperately back and forth as one of them has him gripped by the shoulders. The other leans over his head, struggling to stifle laughter. Horrified, you watch as he starts to loudly clear his throat, his throat undulating as he collects saliva and mucus in his mouth. His lips purse to hock the loogie into his hair, and you decide that you've seen more than enough. That same burning sensation surges under your skin; pounding relentlessly against your brain, tightening your chest. Some part of you tells you that you're starting to lose yourself, but it's too late now.
"Get my back," you hiss to Mariko, who starts and nods.
Like you were fired from a gun, you slam open the door and barrel into the room. You meet the spitting boy headfirst in his stomach and tackle him to the ground, kicking up a thick cloud of dust that dances in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"The hell…oogh!" he starts, but your fists sinking into his chest cut him short. You deliver one blow, then another, and another, and another. You don't know where this indignation comes from, this desire to defend someone you barely even know, but you can't stop. You just can't stop punching him. Beating the hell out of this piece of shit just feels too good.
"Holy…"
Out of the corner of your eye, the other bully starts backing away from you as you lay into his friend. When he reaches the door, he breaks into a sprint, his footfalls echoing throughout the abandoned hallway. Mariko makes to grab him, but he leans just out of her reach.
"You…you coward!" she yells after him, but it's pointless.
Meanwhile, you grab the other guy by the collar, hoisting him up close to your face before smashing him down into the floorboards. His head snaps back and forth like a ragdoll with each impact, and the hot, stale breath being forced from his lungs flies into your face.
"Tetsuo-kun!"
Mariko is yelling at you.
"Tetsuo-kun, stop!"
They wouldn't have stopped.
"Tetsuo, get off him!"
You feel a push from behind, causing you to tumble off of the bully and roll across the floor. He sputters, gasping for breath as he turns over onto his side. For a second, your eyes meet. He stares at you with a mixture of fear and anger before unsteadily getting to his feet. He stumbles towards the open door, but before leaving he turns to you and flips you off.
"What's your problem, man? What's your problem?"
He turns to go, but again, he stops to add something else.
"You're not gonna get away with this! Shibutani's gonna blast your ass, man! You are fucking done!"
You could easily get up and run after him, but you don't. Instead you laugh. You laugh long and hard. You laugh at the irony. You laugh at the idea of someone being scared of you, quiet little Tetsuo Katsuji. And you laugh at how screwed you probably are.
"Tetsuo-kun, are you okay?" Mariko seems quite concerned, approaching you tentatively, like you were a cornered animal.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I don't know why I did that. Why did I do that?" The ire is beginning to subside, making you more and more aware of what you've just done. You don't regret it, it's just taken you by surprise. It's not something you would have done last year. Could awakening to your Persona be changing you outside of the Cloud, too?
"You probably shouldn't have. This is the second time you've gotten yourself into trouble because of me. I don't think it's worth it," says the boy, looking genuinely remorseful.
"Nonsense. You don't deserve to be treated like that. No one does. They got what was coming to 'em, and if Shibutani wants to write me up for that, then that's that."
"Mmm," he muses, staring at his feet. "Maybe you're right…"
"How about you? You're not hurt or anything, right?"
"No," he says, looking himself over. "They'd never try anything serious. You're right," he looks at Mariko, "they're just cowards."
"I was asking more about yesterday."
His eyes go wide. "You do remember! Then it's not just me…" Then, he points to Mariko. "Wait, what about her? I don't remember her. Were you the one in the wetsuit?"
"The what?" Mariko says, more to you than him.
"No, not her," you say, "Mariko was the one having the dream."
"Oh! Then it's good to know you're okay."
"I-I'm really getting confused, now, Tetsuo-kun. Wanna fill me in?"
You check your phone. You've got enough time.
"I suppose now's as good a time as any." You extend your hand to the kid. "Tetsuo Katsuji. Second year."
He takes your hand in both of his. He has a limp, clammy grip. "And I'm Nisekao Fukui. I'm a second year, too."
"I'm Mariko. Mariko Tsukino. Pleased to meet you, Nisekao-kun!"
Nisekao doesn't reach for her hand, but instead gives her a kind of half-wave and a weak "Hello."
"All right. Now that we all know who we are, I guess I'll start from the top." You all take a moment to unwrap your lunches, and on the dusty floor of the abandoned art room, you launch into the story of what happened in the Cloud.
Nisekao and Mariko listen raptly as you recount what happened from the moment you crossed the bridge all the way up to when you summoned Launcelot.
"So it just kind of…happened?" asks Nisekao. "You were attacked by those monsters and then your Persona appeared? You didn't do anything special?"
"I don't really know. I don't think I did. All I remember thinking was how much I didn't want to die."
"Hmm. I guess that's not all there is to it, then. If it was, then I'd probably have one, too," he says, cradling his chin in his thumb and index finger, lost in thought.
"Well, I'm for sure not the guy to be asking about them. There's a lot I don't get myself. But I think everyone has 'em – they're like a part of you, something deep down inside, like another you."
"Yeah, that girl said something like that, too. Those people sure sounded like they knew an awful lot about this stuff."
Mariko pipes up. "Wait. I wanna know who these 'other people' are. What were they doing in my dream?"
You shrug. "Killing Shadows is what it sounds like. Pretty good at it, too. There were two of them: a guy and a girl, but I couldn't see the guy. I could only hear him, like some kinda voice in my head."
"And that girl, the one in the wetsuit and motorcycle helmet, she had a Persona, too. It looked really powerful. No offense…but it might have even been stronger than yours. At first, she was handling that other Persona like it was nothing," says Nisekao.
Mariko glances at him with interest. "Hold on, how many Personas are there now? I'm really getting lost."
You and Nisekao start to speak at the same time, but he defers to you with a shrug. You explain to Mariko everything that happened from when you saw Nisekao being attacked to when you parted ways with the wetsuit girl.
"You beat up my Persona?" says Mariko, mortified. You can't help but flinch at the face she's making.
"C'mon, it's not like that…the wetsuit girl said it was being controlled by the Dreamweaver – that other you that attacked me. It's not like we 'beat it up', I think it was more like 'setting it free'."
Mariko narrows her eyebrows at you. "You'd better hope so, Tetsuo-kun."
Yikes.
"Anyhow," she continues, "did they ever say who they were? I mean, from what you're saying, it sounds like they understand this better than we do. They've got names for these things and everything. Maybe if we got a chance to talk to them-"
You shake your head before she even gets a chance to finish. "Forget about it. She was covering every inch of skin on her body and he was invisible. They don't want anyone to know who they are, and I don't think they want anyone to know what they do, either. That voice was really adamant about telling us only the bare minimum, and before they left, he told me to just forget about everything I saw." You turn to Nisekao. "What about you? What'd they tell you once you guys made it out of the Cloud?"
"The same thing, more or less. There was a lot going on, though - it was hard to keep track. We made it to this huge gate, but before we went through, she leaned over my shoulder and told me not to breathe a word of this to anyone. She made me promise before she'd push me through to the other side. After that came the strangest sensation, like surfacing from really deep water while someone's blowing a car horn in your ear. Once my eyes got adjusted and my ears stopped ringing, I was on the other side of the Tagekawa Bridge, and she was gone. I looked around, but there was no trace, like she'd just vanished into thin air. She might've gone back into the Cloud again, I don't know. I-I was too scared to head back and find out. Sorry."
"Don't sweat it. I would've done the same thing in your shoes."
"Thanks," says Nisekao, who finally cracks a smile. "So how'd you get out? That girl said you were going to fight the Dreamweaver. I mean, you must've won, but still…"
You and Mariko exchange a glance. The Dreamweaver had said a bunch of awfully personal things about her, a lot of which you feel like you shouldn't have heard.
"It's up to you," you tell her.
She plucks at the collar of her blouse for a few seconds, contemplative. Finally, she heaves a sigh and says, "The short version."
"Got it."
Everything from when you entered the department store up to when you made it to the roof you relate to Nisekao as it happened, with a few minor omissions relating to your boogie fever. Once you get to the part where you met the Dreamweaver, however, you skip right to the fight, much to Mariko's evident relief. In addition, you also choose to leave out the bit where you lost consciousness. You're still not one hundred percent certain what happened during that time, and you don't feel like dwelling on it. Instead, you just say that you managed to bait her into missing you and splattered her against the wall.
"Seriously, though, I thought I was gonna die for sure there. Even without her Enforcer, she was way outta my league. I have no clue what that girl was thinking, sending me in there alone."
"But you still pulled it off," says Nisekao.
"I was lucky."
"Luck is a skill in video games."
"Yeah, if only this were one of those."
Mariko rises to her feet, and you take another look at the time. Still a few minutes left before lunch ends.
"Then, I guess that brings us all up to date, doesn't it?" she says.
"Not quite," you say. No doubt she's not interested in talking about it, but it's easily the most important question you still have left to answer. "We still don't know exactly why or how all that happened yesterday. And to figure that out, we're gonna need your side of the story, Mariko."
"Oh. Right…" She reluctantly sits back down and begins messing with the elastic on her socks.
"It might not be easy to talk about, but that Shadow targeted you. The girl in the wetsuit said that it created that Cloud from your dreams. Nisekao and I have said everything there is for us to say. We need you to help us fill in the blanks for us. After you left me and Shibutani yesterday…is there anything you remember?"
"Well…" She starts to say something, but trails off, chewing on her lower lip as if searching for the right words to use.
"If you'd rather I left, that's okay with me. I…I know I can make some people uncomfortable," offers Nisekao. Mariko takes a deep breath, then vehemently shakes her head.
"No. It's not you. It's just that…there's a lot that I half remember, and some of it is, well, not like me. My life is pretty weird right now, and there's a lot that I'm trying to deal with," she says, looking right at you.
"That's fine. Remember, we're all friends here. Once you've been through a near-death experience in a surreal dreamscape, you don't judge each other," you say. She cracks a smile at that.
"I guess that's true, huh? All right…where do you want me to start?"
"From the beginning, I guess. You said you were just tired, but you were really out of it yesterday morning on our way to school. I mean, you almost stepped into traffic gunning for that bridge. What was really going on with that?"
Mariko pulls on the end of her ponytail, looking just like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I wasn't exactly telling a lie. I did have an awful ride over and I didn't get much sleep that night. But when we got to that intersection, I started feeling funny. Kind of like a cross between being dizzy and sleepy. My arms, my legs, my backpack, all of it started to feel really heavy. I wanted to curl up right there on the sidewalk and take a nap, but someone was whispering in my ear telling me that I would be much more comfortable over there."
"There?"
"You know, across the bridge. It felt like somewhere I needed to go. But you were acting really confused, and I didn't want to leave you. Then, for a second, everything…" she halts in midsentence, and inhales deeply. "Everything changed. Like a blink, and then it was gone. In that moment, it was that place. And nothing else mattered anymore. It was so quick, but I knew in an instant that it was made for me. I had to find it again, and that little voice in my ear was going to take me to it. So I started walking."
"Almost right into a four-door sedan."
She chuckles. "I know. It's a good thing you were there with me, or else I might have. When I felt your hand, it all stopped. I wanted to tell myself it was just sleep deprivation, but I knew that it wasn't. It was real – and I...I wanted to go back.
"You've probably already figured this out by now, but I wasn't supposed to come here. I ran away from home two days ago after I got into a fight with my dad. I didn't tell anyone – I just woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I had to leave. I don't know why it had to be then or why I felt it so strongly. I just knew that I had to be somewhere else, somewhere less…suffocating.
"So I packed up as much as I could, snuck out of the house while Dad was asleep, and got on the first bus out of town. At first it seemed like a great idea – I was finally going to live on my own, the way I wanted to. But the more I thought about it, the sicker I got. I had almost no money, nowhere to live, I had basically dropped out of school…I cried and cried for hours at how stupid I was. At the next stop, I decided that I could at least go to Toshima and live with my aunt for a while, but all the same I felt trapped. I couldn't face going back home to Dad and my same old life, but I couldn't survive on my own, either. I wanted a way out so badly. So when I saw that world and heard those whispers promising me all the things I'd been praying for…I caved. It was exactly the way I pictured it. It was so perfect…I…I…"
Mariko swallows hard, her voice beginning to crack. Wetness starts to swell up in the corner of her eyes, and she turns away from you to wipe at them. You feel so helpless, standing there watching her break down. You can't even begin to imagine living without your parents around.
You rise to your feet and walk over to her. You want to say something to comfort her, but you can't come up with a single thing. So instead, you kneel down and push the tears from her cheek with your thumb and smile.
"T-Tetsuo-kun…I'm so sorry…if I wasn't so weak, all this would've never happened."
"No. No apologies. Save those for when you've done something wrong. I don't think giving in to something like that makes you weak. You made it this far on your own, and you still managed to crack a smile the first time I saw you. I think you can take anything life throws at you, honestly. And if you can't, don't be afraid to ask for help. You've got friends here in Toshima now. No matter what it is, I've got your back."
"And…um…me, too! I'm not sure what I could do, but…I could probably think of something," adds Nisekao.
Mariko wipes away the last of the tears and lets you help her to her feet.
"Thanks, guys, I...I really needed that. That Shadow from my Cloud…the Dreamweaver…she was awful, but in a way, I guess she was still me. Maybe not the real me, but the me I thought I wanted to be, the one in all my fantasies. But now that I've seen – well – been her, I'm not so sure I want that anymore. I don't need to be her to be happy…but at the same time, I don't know that I could face going back home, either."
"I think your aunt would be okay with it if you wanted to finish the year here at Toshima. And if she's not, you can just stay at our place. I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind."
"O-Oh! I don't…" Mariko starts blushing furiously, and you begin to wish you'd worded that more smoothly.
"W-Well, I'm sure it won't come to that, but we have a room for guests. All to yourself! So…y'know…"
"Err, well, anyways, I'll do that – ask my aunt if I can stay for the year, I mean. I don't think my cousin's coming home any time soon, so it should be fine for me to stay in his room. But while I'm still here," she says, straightening up and adopting a serious expression, "I wanna figure out why this is happening. It's not right to take advantage of people's minds like that. I got lucky – you saved me before I could become one of them. But this must be happening to more people than just me! The fact that you've got people running around in wetsuits clubbing Shadows is proof enough of that."
Nisekao nods. "I think so, too; those things are dangerous. I hate to say this, but think about it – that girl in the wetsuit is only one person. How many Shadows could she possibly be defeating on her own? We don't know how many there are out there. What happens to all the people whose Clouds she can't find? Are they…still there, watching their life happen through the eyes of a Shadow? Who's to say how many of these Shadows we passed just on our way to school alone – or worse – are here at school with us?"
He's raised a good – and chilling – point. You hadn't even considered it. The faces of all your classmates and teachers flash through your mind, all of them with glinting golden eyes and grotesque masks.
"What do you think, Tetsuo?" Mariko asks.
"Why's it up to me?"
"Why not?" says Nisekao. "You've saved both of us at least once, me twice. You're a good guy, you're not afraid to do what's right, and you're the only one of us that can summon a Persona. I don't think I could handle calling the shots, anyways. So...why not you?"
"Jeez, guys, way to put me on the spot like this. I don't even know where I'd start."
You've always made a point of avoiding responsibility to this point in your life. Group projects, the school festival, elections…you just don't care for that kind of pressure. This, however, is much bigger than any of that, and the stakes are atmospherically higher. The conversation you overheard in the Velvet Room bubbles to the surface of your mind, causing to you to question whether you should really be the one in charge of something like this if you can't even control your Wild Card powers.
Mariko and Nisekao study you expectantly.
"The soul yearns for those like it, and by opening yourself to others, you will discover the means with which to make it strong." Elizabeth's voice reverberates through your mind.
You sigh. If they trust you, then perhaps that's good enough for you.
"All right then. I say we do it." Mariko's face lights up, and Nisekao cracks a wry smile. "But. I can't promise that I'll be able to keep you safe on my own - these things can get seriously vicious. I nearly got killed even with Launcelot."
Mariko sniffs. "Not a problem. I've actually got just the thing to deal with a Shadow or two!"
"You mean this?" You produce the handgun from within your bag, glad to finally be rid of the thing. Mariko makes a sound like she's choked on her own spit, and Nisekao's eyes bug practically bug out of their sockets.
"Wh-What are you doing with something like that at school, Tetsuo?" he sputters. "You're gonna get expelled if they catch you with that!"
"It's not mine! I was just holding onto it for Mariko."
"I don't think that changes anything," mumbles Nisekao, who wheels himself to the doorway and nervously swings his head back and forth. Mariko sheepishly steps forward and tucks the gun into her own bag.
"Wow. I woulda been in some serious trouble if I'd lost that. Thanks a ton,"
"No problem, just don't bring it to school. Why do you have something like that with you anyways? Can you use it?"
"Why? I dunno, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing when I left, really. I don't even know if Dad knows it's gone; it wasn't his anyways. I guess I figured it would be good to have if things got really bad. I'm a pretty good shot with it, too," she says, winking and flashing a toothy smile that's more unnerving than reassuring.
"Good thing your Dreamweaver wasn't," you say. "And what about you, Nisekao? Are you gonna be...well..." You immediately wish you hadn't said anything. Nisekao, however, doesn't seem fazed by your lack of tact.
"I'm not really sure, actually. I can't shoot or summon a Persona or do much of anything, so I'd probably just end up dragging you guys down. But...I know there's got to be some way that I can be useful. I just need some time to figure out how."
"You got it. You're in this now just as much as Mariko or I am. Anything you could do to give us a leg up would be perfect."
"All right. I'll see what I can do!"
Just then, the bell in the main building begins to chime, four long, electronic tones that echo across the lawn and down the dilapidated corridors to signal the end of the lunch period.
"Looks like we're gonna have to wrap this up," says Mariko.
"Right. Let's try to work out a time and place to meet up again and hash this out. I don't even know how we'd go about finding a Cloud on purpose."
"And...this might just be me that feels like this, but maybe we should find somewhere private to talk about this kind of stuff. It just feels like something that should be kept secret, right?" says Nisekao.
You have to agree with him, especially with the possibility - no matter how small - that there could be Shadows listening in. The fewer people that know about what you're doing, the better. An idea hits you.
"How about we meet in my garage? No one at my house ever parks their car in it - I usually just use it to practice my guitar, so we'll have plenty of privacy. And if anyone asks, we can just tell 'em that we're starting a band. Lots of guys our age do that, it's not super unbelievable."
Actually, it's been a dream of yours to start your own band, but they don't have to know that.
"That's not a bad idea, y'know," says Nisekao.
"That's awesome, Tetsuo! And whenever we wanna meet, we can just say that we're having 'practice'! But, if we're gonna pretend we're in a band, we gotta have a name," says Mariko, who's positively beaming over the idea.
"Do we? It's not a real band," says Nisekao.
"Even fake bands need a name! How about The Dreamcatchers?"
"Isn't that a little on the nose?"
"Okay...Sweet Dreams?"
"I-I don't know if anything with the word 'dream' in it is being very subtle..."
"Sleepwalkers," you say. It just sounds right.
"I like it! What about you, Nisekao-kun?"
"Yeah. It's not bad at all."
"All right, then!" Mariko takes yours and Nisekao's hands in hers. "Then as of this moment, the Sleepwalkers are officially ready for action!"
Thou art I...
And I am thou...
Thou hast established a new bond...
It shall grant you the strength to open thine eyes...
Thou shalt be blessed under the sign of the Fool Arcana...
