Impossible.
You swipe through the apps on your phone one, two, even three times, but the result remains the same: The Book of Avalon no longer exists. And neither should this mask.
How then, you wonder, fighting to suppress the scream building in your breast, could this possibly be real? And following it, another question surfaces:
Why did I have to follow her?
A discomforting thought slithers out from the back of your mind – Rin knew. She knew, and she didn't trust you enough to tell you the truth, which begs the question of what else she and the other members of Nightmare having been keeping from you. It appears that this time, you'll need to take matters into your own hands.
As you place your hand on the gate to let yourself in, a peculiar shock races through your entire body. The iron, pitted and worn from years of disrepair, sticks ever-so-slightly, yet you know the exact way to press in on the latch to work it free. Or rather, it's not that you know – it's that you remember. Muscle memory, built up over years and years of unsticking that same latch upon returning home from school.
This discovery, ordinary as it might be, is what compels you to go on. There is a loud and dominant part of you that desperately wants to turn around, return home, crawl back under the kotatsu, and sleep until everything goes back to the way it was. To get on with the happy ending you not only earned, but deserve.
But no. Just as much as you can't weave a plucked thread back into a shirt, it's far too late to turn away now. The feeling of that latch under your fingers was just the tip of the iceberg.
There's more than just Mom waiting beyond that seal.
The mask crumbles at the slightest touch from your fingers, as though inviting you in. The door grinds in its track as you push it aside and enter, letting some of the pale winter light spill into the entryway. The moment your body crosses the threshold, all sound dies away. Not even the faint hum of traffic from downtown permeates this place. Aside from that, the transition between worlds is nearly seamless. If it wasn't for the seal on the door, you wouldn't have realized that you had slipped into a Cloud at all.
What you find within is neither fantastic nor foreign, as you have come to expect. Instead, it's merely an ordinary house, with all that an ordinary house entails. But to you, that is precisely what makes it more disconcerting than any other Cloud you've explored. Because it is your house – or at least a near-perfect replica.
Almost everything, from the furniture to the appliances on the kitchen counters, is exactly the same as the place you left not long ago, save for the absence of items like the kotatsu. With the windows shut tightly, the space is cast in dim shades of beige and grey, the light just bright enough to see the motes of dust dancing through the stale air. Although certain objects - an opened magazine on the table, the pair of shoes left by the door - imply the presence of people, they do not suggest the presence of life. Rather, the house possesses the atmosphere of a tomb, a moment in time sealed in amber.
You wander into the living room in a daze, trying to wrap your head around the meaning of this bizarre facsimile. How could someone's dream be so dreary and grim? You know your mother, and this doesn't seem like what she would want. You need to find her and discover what this is all about.
However, you could hear a pin drop in the stillness of this dead house, and as far as you can tell, there aren't any signs of life anywhere. Still, you know you saw Mom come in here, so she must be around somewhere. You figure that if she's not inside, she might be in the backyard. But try as you might, the sliding door that opens onto the deck is firmly latched shut as if it were glued in place. Growing steadily more confused and frustrated, you decide to investigate the rest of the house more closely. Perhaps if you don't find Mom herself, you might at least find some way to get the back door open.
Starting in the kitchen, there's a mess of documents strewn across the table and counter. Much of it is mail - mostly junk, although there are a concerning number of unopened bills. Next to them is a receipt from a junkyard detailing a payment of a little over three hundred thousand yen for the salvage of a car, the same make and model as the one your family owns. You recall that Nisekao telling you that his family had been in an accident, the one that took his father and the use of his legs. If this were still his house, it might've made sense to find something like this, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it isn't. So why on Earth would this be here, in Mom's Cloud?
The barest hint of a possibility presses its icy fingers against your heart, and at once, your mind disengages in self-defense. It's too early to jump to conclusions, and it's not bringing you any closer to finding Mom.
Your parents' room seems like the most logical place to look next, but when you venture into the first-floor bedroom, you find yourself in your room instead. At first glance, it too looks nearly identical, but a splash of color arrests your attention, and you begin to spot things that are out of place.
A pair of shoes, stained red with paint, poke out from under the bed. In your top drawer, nestled amongst your pairs of socks, there's a receipt for your most precious treasure, purchased from a music store in Inaba. Two hundred and fifty-thousand yen. More than Dad should've spent, but the smile on his face proved that he didn't care one bit. And tucked into the corner, its wheels twisted beyond straightening, is a broken wheelchair.
Again, shades of Nisekao keep appearing in places he shouldn't. Even in those visions you witnessed in his Cloud, echoes of him pervaded your lost memories. The fragments of his life continue to meld with yours like an Ouroboros of identity, and it's becoming difficult to tell where he ends, and you begin.
You're on the cusp of a dreadful and compelling epiphany, a puzzle missing only a few vital pieces. If anyone knows the answers to the questions swarming about in your skull, it must be Mom. These things are in her dream. She has to know. You drag yourself out of your room and up the stairs to the one place you haven't searched.
The first thing you notice when you enter your parents' room are the bedsheets. Only one side looks properly slept in, while the other has hardly been disturbed at all. Your chest inexplicably tightens at the sight, making it difficult to breathe. Crossing the room, you notice a couple of framed photographs atop Mom's chest of drawers, and your heart stops entirely. Taking the first one into your trembling hands, you can hardly keep the tears from welling up in the corners of your eyes as you gaze at the picture within. Mom and Dad stare up at you with warm smiles, and standing between them, cradling your guitar and wearing an expression of pure elation, is Nisekao.
But how? That must be you. It has to be you. It was your fifteenth birthday - you'll remember that moment forever. You were there. Even if nothing else makes sense right now, you can at least be certain of that. You stare into the mirror above the chest, studying your reflection as if expecting to discover something in your face that would account for this discrepancy, but to no avail.
"I'm me," you utter into the empty room in an attempt to recenter yourself and affirm your existence, but the paradox is stretching your sanity thin, like a pen running out of ink.
Then, a crumpled-up ball of paper beside the photo catches your eye. Smoothing it out, you find that it's a page that's been torn out of the Society section of an old newspaper from several years ago, judging from the date in the top corner. The headline of the leading article reads:
Hit-and-run claims the life of Inaba woman, suspect still at large
Tragedy struck the rural town of Inaba yesterday when local police were called to investigate a report of a body found near the side of the road. The victim was identified as Mrs. Chisato Dojima (38), wife of Mr. Ryotaro Dojima of the Inaba Police. Forensic examination revealed the cause of death to be blunt force trauma, likely resulting from a collision with a vehicle. Police believe that the suspect may have also lost control of the car and crashed following the collision due to the presence of various automobile fluids found nearby. Despite this, the suspect was able to abandon the scene, and as of the time of writing, no witnesses have come forward to help identify any persons or vehicles of interest…
The final pin slides into place, the lock opens, and cognizance comes flooding in. Your defenses shattered at last, the truth pierces your mind like a hot knife, taking your legs out from under you and bringing you to your knees. This was what you'd been missing. This was the reality you'd been trying to deny. It had been crawling on your back all year, slipping into cracks in your armor in the form of visions until finally, the fantasy could no longer withstand its own weight.
However, instead of crushing you, this revelation grants you a strange sense of clarity. If your experiences with the Dreamweavers have taught you anything, it's that even though the fate that you and Mom have suffered is cruel, you're not obligated to accept it. As long as you will it, reality can be whatever you want it to be.
Gradually, the heaviness in your body fades, and you're able to stand again. A gentle humming is drifting in from outside, letting you know that the way is open. It pulls you on marionette strings, down the stairs, and out the back door.
The yard is just as you remember it, a humble oasis of grass and flowers which manages to remain temperate and green even now, in the dead of winter. Mom, wearing the comfortable clothes of a housewife and a simple beige apron tied around her waist, kneels in the corner, a spot where the grass grows slightly greener, and the flowers are slightly more vibrant. Upon hearing your footsteps, she stops humming, and turns to face you with eyes of gold.
"You should have stayed asleep, Tetsuo." The sorrow in those words crushes like a vise. "There's nothing but pain left in this place."
"I know."
A pregnant silence ensues, punctuated only by the sounds of distant birdsong.
"I'm so sorry. I thought that like this, maybe I could finally protect you…but it seems like no matter what changes, I can never be the mother you want. You must hate me for that."
You kneel down and take her hands in yours.
"That's not true. I could never hate you. Everything you did, everything you've ever done was all for me. But it doesn't have to be that way anymore. In this world, we don't have to live by the hand of fate. We don't have to run, or keep pretending that things are going to be okay. We can actually have the lives we were meant to have. All of us. Me, you" – you pause, glancing at the patch of flowers in the corner – "and Dad, too."
Mom smiles wistfully and reaches out to stroke your cheek.
"Getting to spend time with both of my boys again…I couldn't ask for anything more. Tell me, is it really okay if I want to keep dreaming a little longer?"
"If it makes you happy, then I don't care if it's a dream or not. Now let's get out of here, and leave this place behind. I want to go home."
Then, as you pull Mom to her feet, her eyes widen at something over your shoulder.
"Tetsuo, get back!"
Suddenly, the air crackles with energy, and in the blink of an eye, Mom steps around you. She thrusts her hands forward, and a web of sigils weave themselves into a giant, magical barrier. She barely finishes before a speck of turquoise light collides with the barrier and explodes into a ball of blistering light.
"Pathetic."
Gin strides into the spell's dying glow, bathed in an azure aura and surrounded by lengths of chain that dance through the air like whips. He regards you with a look of utter revulsion, and a scowl etched across his face.
"I knew it. You never were going to return to the real world, were you? You'd rather stay here, playing pretend with these monsters with forever."
"Don't take another step, Gin," you spit, his words raising your ire. "You're not laying a hand on my mother."
"Mother?!" he shrieks, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he jabs a finger at Mom. "That thing is a Shadow, Tetsuo! A delusion! It's not real! None of this is real! You know that just as well as I do!"
He takes a step back and breathes in deeply, wiping his face in his hands.
"Where are Rin and Yoko?" you ask.
"They won't be bothering us. They're still under the impression that they can fix whatever's wrong with your heart by indulging you, so I came here on my own. It's obvious that I'm the only one who's willing to do what needs to be done."
Gin steps off the porch onto the lawn, and you instinctively put yourself between him and Mom.
"That's enough, Gin! If you're planning on hurting her, you're going to have to deal with me."
Gin sighs and shakes his head.
"I'm sorry, Tetsuo. But that's the plan."
The aura surrounding him ignites, and cobalt flames race across his clothing, transforming it before your eyes. His sweater vest becomes a black waistcoat and tie, and a white lab coat drapes itself over his shoulders. With a leather-gloved hand, he takes hold of the chains swirling around him and clenches his fist, shattering them to pieces. Finally, a mask in the shape of a visor, like the sort you've seen in sci-fi movies, materializes across the bridge of his nose, lighting up bright blue as a stream of figures cascades across the lens faster than your eyes can comprehend. He gives himself a brief once-over before he turns his gaze back to you.
"Just to make things clear, it was never supposed to be like this. But the longer we stay here, the more dangerous it gets. And like I told you before, the only thing that matters to me is keeping Rin safe. So if defeating you is what gets us out of the Metaverse, then I won't hesitate."
Gin takes hold of his mask at both edges and pulls. A spray of vivid blood arcs through the air, and he lets out a cry:
"PERSONA!"
