The chiming of the homeroom bell drags you out of your morning stupor blinking and groggy as you prepare to face the day. Because you'd stayed up so late last night, you slept right through your alarm and awoke abruptly to Dad throwing off your covers and asking you if you were planning on going to school today. The shock of your lateness kept lethargy at bay until you made it to school – a full ten minutes early, to your chagrin – but now it's back in full force, pulling down your eyelids as fast as you can pry them back open. But when the door slams open and Otomuji strides through, you snap wide awake, trying to match your posture to that of your similarly terrified classmates to avoid drawing her attention. Fortunately, she heads right for her desk and starts agitatedly rummaging around in her handbag, cursing none too subtly under her breath.

Sensing an opportunity to talk, Mariko leans over to whisper in your ear.

"Hey, are we going to meet today?"

"Sure. I was thinking the same thing. Somehow, we've gotta figure out how we're gonna find these Clouds. Obviously those other guys have figured something out, so there's got to be a way."

Mariko digests this with a simple nod and looks back over her shoulder.

"Looks like Hayate-kun isn't here yet," she remarks.

"No. No he's not," you say, a contented grin spreading from cheek to cheek. It's been a welcome change of pace this morning. Perhaps he was up too late "partying"?

You open your mouth to suggest that to Mariko, but before you can say anything, a set of thin fingers with nails as bright red as a ladybug's shell clamp down painfully on your shoulder. Grimacing and clenching your fists in anguish, you bring your head around to come face to face with the devilish smirk of Otomuji.

"Decided to slink on back to class, have we?" she practically crows, loud enough so that all of your classmates swivel around in their seats to see what the commotion's about. The bitch must be enjoying every second of this.

"Hmm hmm hmm. This is exactly the problem with kids your age. You little know-it-alls think the world is your playground, and that you can just do whatever you want. Talk back to adults! Skip class! Smoke weed in the bathrooms! Who gives a damn, right? Well, you might have gotten away with your roguish display of disrespect, but there'll be no weaseling your way out of this! Know what this is?" She brandishes a slip of paper at you, waving it so obnoxiously close to your face that you can't even read what it says. However, you think you have a clue.

"Enlighten me," you drone, unamused by the theatrics.

"Watch your tone if you want this to have a happy ending," she hisses back for only you to hear. You don't care – you doubt any of your options right now qualify as "happy". She straightens back up and gleefully announces, "There's no escape this time. This – is an official disciplinary report featuring a first-hand account of your assault on another student! It-" she says, leaning in close to leer in your face – "is incontrovertible evidence of your delinquent behavior – behavior that must be met with an appropriate punishment." She lets the word punishment drip off her tongue, savoring each and every syllable with obvious pleasure.

"I wonder…what kind of consequence should an infraction like this merit? Detention? Suspension? Expulsion? Goodness, it would be a shame if your cocky little ass got jettisoned not even a full week into the year!"

"You can't expel him!" blurts out Mariko. "He was just defending another student! Those other guys are the ones you should be punishing!"

You shake your head. She just can't stay out of your business. Otomuji rounds on her with a sneer.

"And you -! What does this have to do with you? You're turning into quite the pimple as well; maybe you wanna shoot for an expulsion, too?"

"Maybe I d-"

BANG!

Her retort is cut short as the door comes sailing open, hitting the end of the track with a mighty crack. The sound of raucous giggling drifts in from the hall, diverting the class's attention from your spat with the teacher as they whirl about as if coordinated to face the door.

Hayate swaggers into the room flanked by what looks to be three incredibly attractive third-year girls, casually chatting with them as if he's either unaware that he's ridiculously late or he just doesn't care. The girls appear to be deeply invested in whatever it is that he's saying, as every now and then they'll nod enthusiastically or burst into fits of tittering laughter.

However, his unusual (at least, to you) company isn't the only thing that grabs your attention. Today, Hayate appears to have abandoned the dress code in favor of his own wardrobe, a tight-fitting black shirt with a low-cut collar that plunges a good few centimeters lower than you feel is necessary. As you stare, you can't help but notice that the cut of the shirt reveals that he's quite fit. Not excessively so, but enough to show through the thin fabric. A white tie hangs loosely around his neck, tied in a fashion that's deliberately half-assed. His hair is similarly styled - mussed, but not naturally. And of course, the sunglasses remain. It looks like he came straight to school from some kind of club, but that bit about going to Pop Miracle last night was all bogus, wasn't it?

Oddly enough, the rest of the class doesn't seem to find his flashy entrance the least bit out of the ordinary. Instead, your classmates are practically falling out of their seats leaning into the aisle for high-fives which he reciprocates with a wink or a short "Hey, man." Even people who normally don't say much are greeting him enthusiastically. Eventually, he settles into his seat behind you, and his entourage of bubbly third-years wave cupped-hand goodbyes accompanied by seductive winks and blown kisses. He claps you on the shoulder affably and tips his shades in hello. Mariko shoots you a skeptical glance, which you reciprocate. The hell is all this about?

You know in your mind that this isn't normal. But at the same time, there's a bizarre sense of almost…déjà vu, as if this may have happened before and you're just having a hard time remembering. That possibility only compounds your confusion, an insistent pulling at the back of your mind like a wild dog pulling meat from the bones of butchers' scraps.

At the very least, you expect Otomuji to fly off the handle at this kind of brazen behavior. Instead, she smiles sweetly at him and says, "Good morning, Hirada-kun. If you wouldn't mind, try to be a little more punctual tomorrow, please."

Hayate flashes her a glittering, toothy smile. "Of course. Your wish is my command, Otomuji-chan."

Otomuji starts and emits a wholly uncharacteristically girlish giggle. "Please, Hirada-kun. I'm your teacher," she says before returning to the front of the room to take attendance.

Otomuji-chan? Mariko mouths at you, her expression incredulous. You're right with her - it's a pretty ballsy move. However, it's put her into such a good mood that she's forgotten all about expelling you, so as far as you're concerned, he can call her "Otomuji-chan" as much as he wants.

A possibility runs through your head, one which you have to test immediately. Twisting about in your seat to face Hayate, you whisper to him, "Hey. Nice threads, man." Your flattery has the intended effect – a wide smile creeps across his face and he tips his shades down his nose once again. "You like 'em? They're the latest styles, y'know. I hear people in Italy wear these. Italy," he whispers back, but you don't care. What you're looking for are the eyes – the gold, glinting eyes of a Shadow. But there's nothing out of the ordinary about his – they're just his natural green.

Turning yourself back around, you consider the situation at hand while Otomuji's lecture goes in one ear and out the other. It's not as if you can just go and ask him "Hey, are you a Shadow?" His behavior's odd, sure, but it's not enough to really prove that the person behind you isn't really him. You never knew him before this year. It's possible that he's not the poser you pegged him as. But that doesn't mean you can't still be suspicious. You've got serious doubts that the guy who repulsed that Ikkuman's waitress so strongly could have possibly landed three groupies overnight.


"That doesn't feel right to me, either," Mariko says to that later that evening, in your garage. After school, you got together with Nisekao to get his opinion and to convene your first Sleepwalkers meeting. "I don't think Hayate-kun's a bad person, really, but he's kind of…umm…well…" she hesitates, possibly to pick out the most polite way to put what she wants to say.

"A creep?" you offer, picking idly at your guitar. Mariko makes a half-smile, half-grimace that suggests that she agrees, but doesn't want to say so.

"Ehh, kinda, yeah. He just tries a little too hard. I think that if he just acted normally, people would like him more."

"Doesn't look like he's got any problem with that now," mumbles Nisekao around a bit of hot dog cut to look like a little octopus. When Dad heard that you were having friends over, he was practically beside himself, making more snacks than the three of you could possibly eat. "I couldn't go more than five minutes without hearing someone whisper, 'Are you going to Hirada-kun's party tonight?'" he says in a mocking tone. "It's like he's the center of the universe or something."

"Don't tell me he's been picking on you, too," you say, his surly tone making you worry.

"Eh…? No…no. I-I've actually never met him, it's just…I don't care for people that only want to be the center of attention," he explains, suddenly becoming meek again.

"I can sympathize," you reply. "I spent an hour with the guy just yesterday and it felt like I'd had enough of him for a lifetime. This is just too much."

"Y'know, a bunch of people in our class were talking about that party at lunch, too. Seems like a lot of people got invited," says Mariko.

"I didn't," says Nisekao, "not that that surprises me or anything…"

"Pfft. Don't sweat it, I didn't either. I'm not complaining. What about you, Mariko?" you ask. Mariko shifts uncomfortably in her seat (a cardboard box marked "Photo Albums") and hastily pops a handful of animal crackers into her mouth.

"You did?" you blurt.

Mariko swallows hard and her entire face flushes bright red. "Uh-huh…he said that if I came, he'd…well…" She stops, too embarrassed to continue.

"He'd what?" you ask, even though you have an idea where this is going.

"He said, 'I'll show you a better time than anyone else ever could.' Uggh! I'm sorry, it was so gross!" she squeals, and grabs another handful of crackers.

"That son of a bitch," you say, and find yourself taken aback by the edge in your tone. Taking a few deep breaths to clear the haze of indignation in your head, you try staying focused on the task at hand. "At any rate, this is as good a place for us to start as any, isn't it? I mean, this is exactly the kind of fantasy he would come up with, too. Maybe this is just wishful thinking on my part 'cause his face is just so damn punchable, but if this isn't some Dreamweaver bullshit at work, I'll come to school in my skivvies tomorrow."

"Thanks for that mental image," Nisekao grumbles and Mariko laughs. "But seriously, though, I know you two are pretty convinced, but doesn't this all feel kind of…familiar? M-Maybe I'm just crazy, but I feel like I've heard this story before. Wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong about something, though, so feel free to ignore me…"

You wave off his doubts with a flick of your hand. "No, I got the same sensation, too – it was kinda like déjà vu. I don't buy it, but you're not alone."

"Do you think that's part of the Cloud's power?" Mariko asks, her expression worried and pensive. "Could it be trying to change our memories so we don't notice?"

Her voice trails off, and a pregnant silence descends over the three of you.

"There's no way to know unless we track it down and find out," you say at last.

"So how do you think we're supposed to find it?" asks Nisekao. "The last one I just happened upon by accident. What about you, Tetsuo?"

You'd been wondering about that as well. Mariko's Cloud had taken you by surprise, so you weren't really looking for any kind of sign that would indicate a Cloud's presence. Of course, now that you need to, you wish you had been more observant.

"No, me neither. I only found it because I knew where Mariko was going."

"That's it," says Nisekao, and his eyes light up in a way you haven't seen before.

"You have an idea, Nisekao-kun?" asks Mariko.

Nisekao's gaze drops to his feet and he starts pulling nervously at his fingers. "I-I think so. If you followed Mariko-chan to her Cloud…maybe Hirada will lead us to his. Umm, Mariko-chan, where did he say his party was again?"

Mariko taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Umm…I wasn't planning to go, so I wasn't paying close attention, but I think he said he was having it at some club in the Air Mall. He started bragging about how exclusive and 'cutting edge' it was and I kinda started tuning him out."

"Well then," you say, a smirk playing across your lips, "sounds like we got a party to crash tonight." You check the time. It's already a little after ten. "How soon can you guys be ready to go?"

Mariko flashes a shark-like grin. "I'm ready to go right now." She pulls her jacket aside to reveal her handgun, tucked neatly inside a concealed shoulder holster. "Just say the word, Tetsuo."

"Jeez, you can't be carrying that thing with you everywhere," you say. "But maybe we oughta bring more than just a weapon. Time moves a lot faster inside the Cloud than it does in the real world. It might not hurt to take some supplies with us in case we need to eat or someone gets hurt. How about we split up and get what we need from our houses. Then, we meet at the mall's Junes entrance at midnight. Sound good?"

"So we're really going tonight?" asks Nisekao worriedly.

"Do you really want to wait around for Hayate to throw another party? This is as good a chance as we're gonna get."

"OK! Tetsuo, I think you ought to be in charge of bringing the food," says Mariko, casting an eye over the platters and platters of uneaten snacks. "I know my aunt keeps a first aid kit and some painkillers above the stove, so I'll grab those. And Nisekao-kun…"

"I've actually got a lot of stuff I need to put together…after yesterday, I stayed up all night trying to figure out how I could help you guys, and I think I came up with a pretty good idea," he says.

"Awesome! Can't wait to see what you came up with," you tell him, to which he chuckles awkwardly.

"Well, you should probably see it first."

Mariko leaps to her feet, jauntily slinging her bag over her shoulder and bounding towards the small side door that leads out to your driveway.

"I'll see you guys later, OK? Try not to get caught!" she says before leaving. A swift, cool evening breeze rushes into the garage as she opens the door. You can briefly hear the chirping of crickets and distant drone of engines before it swings shut and it all cuts off as if to the swish of an invisible conductor's baton.

That's right – if you're going to be meeting the others at midnight, that means that all three of you are going to have to figure out some way to sneak out under your parents' noses.

"Are you gonna be able to get away from your folks?" you ask Nisekao. He shrugs noncommittally.

"Don't worry about it. I can manage one way or another." He wheels himself over towards the door as well, but before his hand lands on the knob, he stops and spins around to face you again.

"Hey…I don't want this to sound weird or anything, so promise me you'll have an open mind."

You're not sure what to expect after hearing him say that, but you can't think of a good reason to refuse, so you nod and let him continue.

"Thanks. So…I never really got the chance to say thanks for yesterday. No one's ever really stepped in when I get picked on. I'm not used to it."

"Don't mention it. How…how often does that kinda stuff happen to you? Is it okay if I ask that?"

"No. No, it's fine. If you really want to know, it happens…at least four times a week."

You seriously hope he's exaggerating, but the morose expression he's wearing tells you otherwise. In fact, his every bit of his body language is stark evidence of the harassment he's endured. Every wince, every nervous wring of his hands, every stuttered word is a scar left behind by some unseen trauma.

Upon realizing this, you feel a strange closeness to Nisekao. For an instant, you swear can feel his pain as though it were your own: there is a rush of powerful feelings both yours and not yours that drown your senses. Depression, confusion, loneliness, pain, apprehension, and anger overwhelm even the deepest corners of your thought – and then it passes. It's a connection that runs deeper than you have the ability to explain, a sensation both saddening and frightening.

Finally, you say, "I...I had no clue."

He hangs his head and shakes it back and forth, letting his limp strands of hair wave across his forehead. "Heh. It's okay. But you learn to deal with it. You just…make yourself empty. Let it happen, collect yourself afterwards, and move on. If they don't get a reaction, they get bored easier."

"Do you really believe that that works?"

Nisekao pauses. "…No. It's complete bullshit. But there's nothing else I can do anymore. At least, nothing that doesn't make it worse."

Then, his gaze locks directly onto yours, and his eyes widen as if in epiphany. Slowly, he wheels towards you, never breaking eye contact, and he takes you by the wrist. The corners of his lips turn up in an unnatural smirk.

Then, his voice practically trembling, he says, "That's why…that's why yesterday, when you stopped that bastard from spitting in my hair…I loved it. Watching you give him what he deserved was the most satisfying experience I think I've ever had…I'm so glad you didn't hold back. In fact, I kinda wish you'd gone a little farther. If it was me, well…I've thought about it so many times..."

"Nisekao, I…" You're at a loss for words in the face of this unnerving confession. His eyes wild and his grip steadily tightening around your wrist, his personality has taken an alarming turn. You can tell that there's a wellspring of raw emotion behind his words, emotion that's probably been pent up for a long time.

As if reading your mind, Nisekao goes on. "I know this must be a lot for someone who's almost a complete stranger to take in…I've never spoken like this to anyone else before. But to you, it feels okay. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

Wordlessly, you nod in understanding. The things he's saying are a bit disturbing, but for someone like him, you don't think they're completely unjustified. He relaxes his grip and sits back in his wheelchair.

"Good. I was afraid that you wouldn't. But I feel like I can trust you with just about anything, Tetsuo. I don't have any siblings, but this connection…you feel like a brother to me. It-It's not too strange of me to say that already, is it?"

"No. We're not judging each other, remember? Besides, I'm an only child, too. We gotta stick together, right?"

Nisekao chuckles awkwardly. His fit of mania seems to have passed. "Y-Yeah. Of course. Thanks, Tetsuo. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"No problem. If you ever want to get anything off your chest, let me know. In the meantime, you said you some stuff to get ready, right?" You check your phone again. It's going on ten-thirty. Outside, you can hear the low thrum of the engine of Mom's car as she pulls into the drive. You doubt that she'll have the energy to care much if you have people over this late, but you want your parents to feel like they can go to bed sooner rather than later.

"Right, right…I'll see you later, then, Tetsuo. Sorry for wasting so much of your time!" he says as if just remembering what you're planning on doing tonight. Hurriedly, he grabs his things and leaves, avoiding eye contact the entire time, the wheels on his wheelchair squeaking and clattering in his wake. Wincing, you hope that none of your future expeditions hinge upon stealth. You can feel a peculiar bond forming between you and Nisekao…

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 Moon Arcana…


Later that night, you lie in bed fully clothed, eyes wide open, waiting for the opportunity to strike out for the Air Mall. You're fairly certain that your parents are asleep by now – Dad doesn't tend to stay up reading very late, and Mom is usually out cold within minutes of getting home – but you can't risk getting caught. You're the only one with a Persona, after all. If you can't go, the entire thing would have to be called off. You can't hear any muffled whispering or shuffling coming from your parents' room below, but you can wait a couple minutes more just to be certain.

Once the screen on your phone reads 11:30, you decide that you can't afford to wait any longer and spring to your feet. Moving as silently and deliberately as possible, you grab your guitar and your bag stuffed with snacks and pad down the hall to the stairs. Making sure to avoid the squeaky bottom step, you steal past the darkened living room, through the kitchen, and into the hall where you slide on your shoes. The light of the moon casts ghostly shadows across the floor, making you crouch down low to the ground a couple times, fearing that the outline of a floor lamp or an open cupboard door is someone waiting to catch you in the act of sneaking out. Gingerly, you slide the front door open just wide enough for you to slip through sideways. Once close it behind you, you silently pump your fist in victory, knowing the hardest part is behind you. Then you dash down the walk, vault over the gate, and take off sprinting down the deserted street into the city.

Not entirely to your surprise, Mariko is the first one there, sitting on one of the benches along the glass walkway between Junes and the mall with a full grocery bag beside her. When she notices you, she waves excitedly, pulls a bottle out of the bag, and tosses it to you. It's a melon-flavored sports drink.

"You really went shopping? How long have you been waiting?" you tease, stowing the drink in your bag and plopping down next to her on the bench.

"A while," she answers with a sheepish smile. "I couldn't help myself. I love going to Junes, and yours is so huge!"

"That's the way everything is in a city like this. Is this the first time you've been to one?"

"Yeah," she says, the word dropping out of her mouth as if it embarrassed her. "My ho - where I'm from is nothing like this."

You put on a reassuring smile. "You'll get used to it. Try wandering around late at night - maybe not this late, but after most of the people have gone home. You'll get a feel for it in no time. And besides...I think it's a lot more beautiful that way."

She snickers. "Wooow. Look at Tetsuo getting all starry-eyed and romantic!"

"What? I'm just stating my opinion, that's all. I'm allowed to do that," you insist, but the heat in your face is betraying you.

"Well, I guess all musicians have to be a little sentimental, huh? I'm not trying to be mean, Tetsuo! It's cute that you have that side to you!"

"I'm not cute..." you grumble. Thankfully, the rattling of Nisekao's chair echoing down the empty walkway rescues you from having to continue the conversation of whether or not you're really "cute".

"Okay!...Okay! I'm here! I'm so sorry I'm so late, it just took me more time to get together what I needed than I thought...I'm so sorry..." he wheezes, out of breath. He must have been pumping those arms awfully hard. You check what time it is. 12:02.

"It's fine, man. Seriously. So what do you got for us?"

Nisekao rummages around in his bag and pulls out a couple small objects that he cups in his palm. He holds it out to you.

"Each of you take one."

As you turn the thing over in your hand, you can see that it looks like an earpiece of some sort, with a hook for keeping in place. In addition, a small, elliptical case bulges out of the side.

"You'll also need one of these," he adds, producing another couple of items. This one he doesn't hand to you. Instead, he comes up to you and Mariko, removes your Toshima patches, and pins on new ones that look exactly the same.

"There we go," he says, "that should do."

"Okay," says Mariko, tapping on her earpiece, "I get that this must be a radio, but what's up with the patches?"

Nisekao takes a large, bricklike laptop from his bag and pops up the lid to power it on. While it boots, he explains, "Well...I get that it's not really feasible for me to come with you guys inside the Cloud. If I did, I'd always be slowing you down and making you waste your time and energy having to save my butt. So what I thought I'd do was figure out a way to support you from out here, and this is how I'll do it." He points to the patch on your chest. "I fixed a small spy camera to each of your new patches so that I can see what you guys see while you're in the Cloud. They're not real high quality - I got them from a hobby store - and I'll need them back after you're done so I can charge the batteries. But for what we're doing, I think they'll serve. Now this way, I can map where you've been, keep track of info on Shadows you run into, and keep an eye out for trouble on the real world side. Not that there'd be much I could do about it, but still..." he trails off and looks hopefully to you two for approval.

Frankly, it's more than you could have asked for. "It's fantastic, Nisekao. We need someone watching our backs; chances are, we're gonna have our hands full in there as it is."

"Yeah, I hadn't even thought of what we'd do if we got lost in there..." Mariko says. "This'll be a real lifesaver, Nisekao-kun!"

Nisekao rubs the back of his head and grins sheepishly. "I'm just glad someone like me can be useful to you... So do you think we're ready to get started?"

You turn toward the double doors that lead to one of the two Air Mall lobbies. You're unsure of what you'll find on the other side. The prospect sends a tingle down your spine and into your arms and legs. Your muscles tense with anticipation and fear, and you can feel the adrenaline beginning to pump pure jet fuel through your veins.

"Yeah. C'mon guys - we're late for our first gig."