When Tetsuo reappeared outside the gates of Toshima High, Yoko could hardly believe her eyes. Ever since he'd left, she'd been doing little else but sitting at the wide, front-facing windows on the second-floor landing, watching the street and hoping against hope that he'd return before Nyarlathotep's deadline expired.

After a few incredulous blinks to make sure that her addled brain wasn't playing tricks on her, she tore down the stairs several steps at a time to meet him. Sure enough, there he was – and with the 'others' in tow as well, although she was sure she hadn't seen them when she looked out the window earlier.

They locked eyes, and Yoko's breath momentarily caught in her throat as a tinge of uncertainty stung her. He was back, but for what purpose? It was difficult to gauge from the distant expression he wore. She was about to ask what he'd decided when Tetsuo suddenly dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the pavement in a deep bow.

"I'm sorry!" he half-pleaded, half-shouted. "For everything I've done! I know I've caused you a lot of trouble, but please, give me the chance to make things right!"

A beat passed as the two of them stared at each other. Then, Yoko broke into a relieved smile, and extended her hand.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you again."

For a moment, Tetsuo stared at it in mild bewilderment. Then, he grasped her hand in his, and allowed her to pull him upright again.

"It was selfish of me to run off like that. I know this doesn't excuse it, but I…needed some time to sort through some things."

"Did it help? Are we on the same side again?"

"Yeah. At least, I think. I can't pretend that I still don't have doubts or that I'm not still afraid."

"I can understand that."

Yoko paused, chewing her bottom lip.

"…We've been pretty unfair to you, too. Maybe if we'd trusted you more, things wouldn't have turned out like…this. You deserve some real honesty for once, so I told myself that if you ever came back, I'd make sure to tell you everything."

She gestured for him to follow her.

"C'mon. We'll talk inside."

As they passed the nurse's office, Tetsuo couldn't help but pause by the door. She was there, just on the other side. He wanted so badly to see her. To hold her. To let her know, even if she couldn't hear him, that he was okay – because of her.

Yoko followed his gaze and gave her head a firm shake.

"Hold on," she told him quietly, then stepped up to the door and gave it a few soft raps. "Hey," she called out, "Tetsuo's back."

There was no response.

"…He seems like himself again," she ventured.

Still nothing.

"I'm gonna tell him what's going on…and I think you should be there, too."

After a long pause, Gin's voice came through the door, low and flat.

"Do whatever you want," he said, followed by the click of the lock tumbling shut.

Yoko let out a defeated sigh. "Okay. I guess not, then." Then, in a whisper, she added. "I haven't seen him leave that room since you left. It's like…"

She trailed off and wiped a hand across her mouth resignedly as if to discard whatever she was about to say.

"…Never mind. Maybe it's better if Rin's got someone to look after her anyways. C'mon, we'll use the staff room."

She led the way to the large room at the end of the hall and plopped herself down in the swivel chairs beside one of the teachers' desks. Giving it a little spin, she puffed out her cheeks and exhaled nervously.

"It's weird. Technically, I was just here a few months ago getting career counseling. Feels like it happened to a different person."

Planting her feet firmly against the linoleum, she brought herself to a stop, meeting Tetsuo's eyes with an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I know that doesn't have anything to do with anything, I'm just trying to get my thoughts in order. Even after everything we've been through, this still doesn't feel real sometimes."

Yoko gestured for Tetsuo and the others to sit as well, and took a deep breath to center herself.

"All right, then…I guess it started with the ad," she said, and allowed her thoughts to travel back to the day when everything began.

• • • • •

NOVEMBER

2011

Yoko wandered back towards the other end of the platform for the fifth – maybe sixth? time. She was too preoccupied to really pay attention. One of the station attendants finally asked if she was lost.

She wasn't, of course - she'd transferred at Ikebukuro Station on her way home nearly every day after school. What she had really been doing was trying to think of a good excuse to miss dinner with another of her mother's television friends. It was a nasty surprise to receive halfway home, for sure, but at least she'd warned her this time. It gave her the opportunity to strategize.

However, Yoko was tired and upset, and not feeling particularly creative enough to come up with a convincing story, so she hastily apologized to the attendant and darted up the stairs, resolving to ignore her mother's text message and eat at Sunshine City instead. She'd get an earful later, but that was a problem for her future self. She emerged from the platform with her head held high and defiant, and it was likely because of this that she noticed the advertisement.

It was neither colorful nor extraordinary, but it was stuck to the station wall at perfect eye-level, which was why she bothered reading it at all. It said:

LOOKING FOR:

Participants for scientific trial

Ages 18 – 35

Must have no pre-existing conditions

¥10000 compensation

Date, time, and location provided below:

Most of the slips of paper that dangled from the bottom of the poster had already been torn off, so Yoko wasted no time snatching up one of the few that remained. Ten-thousand yen wasn't a lot – it certainly wouldn't allow her to move out – but it wasn't a little, either. Money like that could help her pay to commission a 3D model of her virtual self, Elloid, instead of the barely-animated image she'd been using. Not many streamers were using 3D models yet, but the ones that did were starting to pull huge viewer counts. That, she thought, would really be her way out.

She skimmed the information on the slip. It looked like the trial would be Saturday morning, at Toshima General Hospital. Yoko frowned slightly. Was it a medical trial?

As long as they don't make me take any weird pills, she thought to herself, and slid the paper into the pocket of her coat.

The morning of the trial was a stressful one. Yoko's mother had been, as expected, positively furious about her blowing off her dinner guest, and grounded her for a week. Yoko had only barely been able to convince her to let her leave by telling her that she had a Saturday club commitment at school. Still, once she arrived at the hospital, she had mostly forgotten all about it, and her head swirled with questions about what was in store for her inside.

The receptionist directed her to a room near the end of a hall in the ICU where about a few dozen other applicants waited their turn. Upon arriving, a researcher with a tight, harried frown handed her a clipboard and some paperwork to complete. Fortunately, there wasn't much of it, and there weren't any waivers to sign off on, which alleviated some of her prior skepticism.

Once she was finished, the researcher took the clipboard without a word and ushered one of the other people into an adjoining room. Whatever the trial entailed, it didn't take much time to complete, and after about a half an hour of waiting, it was Yoko's turn.

The other room was small – about a dozen or so square meters – and sparsely furnished. A plastic table and folding chair stood in the center, but what really drew Yoko's attention was the machine. It was a tall device that barely avoided brushing against the ceiling, covered in multiple lighted panels and switches labeled in text too small to read from across the room, with a complex weave of cables and wires crisscrossing in and out of ports along its sides and back panel. Two more researchers attended to it in the corner, tapping through menus and adjusting switches as she entered.

The first researcher beckoned her into the folding chair and gave her what he must have thought was a reassuring smile, but instead just came off as exhausted and somewhat insincere.

"Welcome," – he paused and glanced at her paperwork – "Tanaka-chan. We really appreciate your participation. Could you please pull back your bangs for us? I'm going to attach a couple of sensors before we begin."

One of the machine's attendants brought over a pair of silicone sensors that were attached to the machine by a couple of thin wires. Yoko pulled her hair up off of her forehead, and the attendant spread a few dabs of cold gel on it before pressing the sensors into place.

"Perfect. Now, all we're going to do today is ask you a couple of questions and collect some information from your brain," the researcher said with the flat intonation of someone who had said this same thing many times over. "We're hoping to learn something about the way people perceive themselves. Of course, you are free to skip any question you think is too personal, but we'd like to gather as much data as possible, so please try to answer as much as you can, as honestly as you can."

Yoko nodded, wondering exactly what sort of questions they had in mind.

"Excellent. In that case, let's begin. Which of the following qualities do you value most: honesty, pragmatism, or ambition?"

Her brow crinkled with thought. "Honesty," she replied. She could certainly do with a bit more honesty from people in her life. Ambition, not so much.

The researcher nodded, but didn't write anything down. Instead, he looked over at one of the panels on the machine, and nodded.

"Very good, thank you. Now, the following is a purely hypothetical situation: You're in a meeting with an authority figure – teacher, counselor, boss…you can imagine whoever you like. They request a favor of you that you consider objectionable, but could significantly benefit you in the future. Would you accept or refuse this proposal?"

Naturally, Yoko's thoughts landed squarely on her mother's television friends, and she began to regard the sensors attached to her forehead with suspicion. These questions were awfully on-the-nose.

"I don't think I'd be interested in doing something I'm uncomfortable with."

Again, the researcher studied the panel on the machine instead of recording her response, and seemingly satisfied, he moved on to the next question.

They continued like this for quite some time, and among the dozens of additional questions, the researchers also asked her to do several decidedly more bizarre things such as imagining (not describing, which might have been the oddest part of all. After all, how could they know what she was imagining?) her greatest fear. Towards the end, they displayed a series of images via an overhead projector and had her respond by pressing either a blue or red button. They did not describe what either button meant, leaving Yoko to invent her own criteria.

After a while, Yoko realized that she had been in the small room for much longer than the participants before her. But before she could check her phone to see if that was true, the researchers cleared the table and removed the sensors. The one who'd been questioning her extended a small manila envelope.

"Your compensation. Thank you very much for your time."

Yoko peeked inside, and sure enough, there was a single ten-thousand yen note within.

"One last thing – do we have your permission to contact you again if we need participants in the future?"

With the note still in her hand, Yoko nodded.

"Yeah…sure," she murmured absent-mindedly, already thinking ahead about updating Elloid's character reference sheet.

"Wonderful. In that case, we'll be in touch."

When the researcher had told her that, Yoko didn't really expect to hear from them again. After all, she was just one participant out of probably hundreds. So, when her phone buzzed two weeks later, late at night after one of her streams, the voicemail she found took her completely by surprise.

"Good evening, Tanaka-chan. This is the cognitive psience research team at Toshima General. Our apologies for the late hour, but we wanted to contact you as soon as possible. Based on your results from the previous trial, we would like to invite you back to participate in a follow-up. In the interest of full disclosure, it will require a greater time commitment, but again, we are prepared to compensate you very generously for your time. I'm not at liberty to discuss specifics over the phone, but we are prepared to offer a significantly larger sum than last time. When you can, please call us back at this number, and let us know your decision."

Yoko stared out of her small bedroom window at the city lights below. A "significantly larger sum"...the lack of details made her somewhat wary, but nowhere near enough to stop her heartbeat from quickening at the thought of finally wriggling out from under her mother's thumb. She resolved right then and there to call them back immediately. Besides, she reasoned, it would be stupid of her not to at least go back and hear them out. If they suggested anything sketchy, she could just back out.

Despite it being almost midnight, the research team picked up after the first ring.

"Hello? This is Yoko Tanaka. I'm sorry that it's late, but I wanted to return your call…"

For all her eager anticipation in the days leading up to the follow-up trial, it quickly melted away the instant Yoko stepped back into the waiting room in the ICU. This time, there were only two other people in the room with her – a boy and girl about her age that looked too similar not to be twins. That in and of itself wasn't cause for concern, but the sour expression on the boy's face as he studied her was unnerving.

However, what did bother her was what the researcher said as he once again handed her a clipboard and a fresh sheaf of paperwork.

"Please make sure you read each document carefully before you sign anything," he told her, a hint of barely concealed anxiety edging into his tone. Yoko nodded apprehensively, and after studying them more closely, she understood why the atmosphere in the tiny room was so tense.

These were nondisclosure agreements, pages upon pages of tiny, dense text punctuated only by the occasional line for a signature. She read the first couple statements carefully, but after a while, the sheer amount of them began to overwhelm her. Halfway through, she set the pen and clipboard in her lap, and exhaled uncertainly. There was an absurd amount of intimidating language in front of her.

What, exactly, was all this for?

"I wouldn't worry about all this stuff if I were you. You're not committing to anything, you're just promising not to blab, that's all."

One of the twins - the girl - had snuck up next to her, and Yoko couldn't help but jump in her seat a little.

"Sorry," she chuckled. "You just looked kinda freaked out. I'm Rin Jidou, by the way. And that's my brother Gin," she said, pointing at the boy who was now shooting her an exasperated glare.

"T-Tanaka…uh…Yoko," she added, since the other girl had given her first name as well. She turned her attention back to the NDAs. She knew what they were; she'd heard enough TV personalities use them to brag about their exclusive connections. "I was just wondering what kinda secrets they're expecting us to keep."

"The expensive kind, I'm hoping. Orrr so they said over the phone. Guess we'll find out," said Rin. "Honestly, I'm glad somebody else made the cut, too. I don't know if I'd have been able to take it if it were just me and brother dearest over there. I practically had to drag him along. Look at his face, he's acting like a puppy at the vet's."

Rin pulled her face into an exaggerated imitation of her brother's scowl, and Yoko snorted despite herself. Something about the girl's breezy attitude was infectious, and her anxiety ebbed somewhat. Still, what she'd said about "making the cut" stuck with her. There'd been a bunch more people at the first trial - plus probably even more that had come and gone before and after she arrived. Were we seriously the only ones they called back? she wondered to herself, but before she could ask Rin what she thought, the other door opened.

The woman that walked through had a young, smooth face that was somewhat undone by the lines of fatigue that ran across her cheeks and forehead. Yoko could feel her dark eyes, ringed with lack of sleep, scrutinizing her from beneath a pair of rectangular lenses. She idly pushed a strand of straight, jet-black hair behind her ear as she jotted a few quick notes into a steno pad and patted it into the breast pocket of her lab coat.

"All right," she declared, clasping her hands together, "let's get down to business. My name is Dr. Isshiki, and I'm the lead researcher on the Metaverse Expedition Team - MEXT, for short."

Isshiki was a fast talker, and spoke like there was something else she was eager to return to. She flipped through a couple pages on a clipboard one of the assistants handed her. "You are…Tanaka-chan and the Jidou twins, right?"

They all nodded silently.

"Great. Welcome aboard. Now, I apologize for this in advance, but we're going to be covering a lot of ground very quickly today. We're running up against some very tight deadlines here, so I cannot stress how grateful I am that all three of you agreed to come."

She then leaned forward, and her demeanor suddenly grew intense.

"The trial you're about to take part in has the potential not only to save lives, but change the very world as we know it. Come with me, I'll show you what we're working on."

Isshiki whipped past them into the hall, leaving Yoko and the twins frozen in confusion. They stared at each other blankly for a beat before darting after her. They caught up with her a couple of doors away, outside one of the rooms reserved for patients, and followed her in.

Within, Yoko found herself in a cramped observation room stuffed with complicated-looking machinery that looked somewhat similar to the one she'd been hooked up to last time. A large window that nearly ran the length of the antechamber looked out into the patient's room. On the other side of the glass, a gaunt wisp of a boy about her age was lying on the bed with IVs sprouting from his wrist and a host of sensors stuck to his forehead. These sensors connected him to another set of machines that were nearly identical to the ones beside her.

"This is Tetsuo Katsuji," said Isshiki, "and he's been comatose for several weeks now. His mother has graciously granted us permission to investigate his condition. In the interest of patient confidentiality, I can't go too far into detail about what happened, but according to his doctors, he's already recovered from the…incident that caused his condition. In fact, he's been physically healthy for some time now. But despite this, he hasn't regained consciousness."

"So…it's like he doesn't want to wake up."

Yoko glanced over at Rin. With all the humor now drained from her expression, she stared intently at the boy with her hand pressed up against the glass.

"...It's possible," Isshiki replied hesitantly. "Honestly, it's not all that uncommon an occurrence in patients like him. Their bodies are ready to function again, but there's something in their minds that isn't. And because they can't communicate with us, there's really not much we can do in the way of treatment…unless there was a way to access their consciousness directly."

Yoko felt her entire body grow tense and tingle at what the doctor was implying. She didn't literally mean that, right?

"What do you mean? Like reading his mind?" asked Gin. His incredulous expression mirrored her own.

Isshiki turned, her lenses flashing in the reflection of the light from the monitors.

"No. Not read. Enter."

"You've lost me," Gin replied, and Yoko couldn't help but nod.

Smiling, the doctor asked, "How do you determine what's real?"

Gin paused and thought, with a mildly baffled look still stuck on his face.

"Well, with our senses, right? It has to do with the things we can see and touch, and so on."

"True. Our senses are tools which we use to help us perceive our physical reality. But what if I told you that another reality existed, beyond our physical perceptions?"

Gin rolled his eyes. "I'd say that sounds ridic-oof!" he grunted as Rin jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

"Shut it!" she hissed. "Sorry about him, Doc. His imagination died when he was a kid. What were you saying?"

If Isshiki was offended, she didn't show it. To Yoko, it looked like she was relishing Gin's skepticism.

"The field of science I study, cognitive psience, subscribes to the theory that in addition to the physical reality we're familiar with, there also exists a metaphysical reality. This is the one we perceive not with our senses, but with our subconscious mind. It's the world we inhabit when we dream, shaped by our thoughts, emotions, and desires. Because of its nature, we've named it the Metaverse, and the consequences it could have on the study of the unconscious are monumental. However, we first need to prove its existence. That's where you come in."

"You mean we're your guinea pigs," Gin snorted. "What exactly do you want us to do?"

The doctor leveled an intense gaze towards them.

"I would like the three of you to be the first people we send into the Metaverse."

A terrible, weighty pause settled over the small room as the three students realized the magnitude of Isshiki's request. Eventually, it was Gin who piped up first.

"You mean inside this guy's head?" he asked, hooking a thumb towards Tetsuo. "And do what? How do you even know this'll work? Actually, no - do you have any guarantee this is even safe?"

"Well what did you think a 'trial' was, dum-dum? No risk, no reward," said Rin. She then whispered something into his ear. It was too low for Yoko to hear, but whatever it was, it got him to clam up.

"I understand why you'd feel hesitant. No one has ever attempted this before, so to some extent, we're going to be striking out into the dark. However, we've conducted extensive testing on our equipment, and we're reasonably confident in its performance."

"Then…why do you need us?," asked Yoko. It felt like the right time to mention something that'd been bugging her for a while now. "I mean, we're not experts, we're…high school students."

Isshiki removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes with a small sigh. "You're wondering why I can't just go myself, right? Believe me, I would if I could. But as we've discovered, not just anyone can access the Metaverse. Just like our bodies have systems to repel foreign objects, our minds have something similar: defenses that reject entities that don't belong. It requires someone with just the right sort of mental fortitude to bypass that barrier and retain their sense of self within another person's consciousness. And out of everyone we surveyed, only the three of you fit the profile we compiled."

"Now, ideally, once this project is complete, we'd like to train compatible professionals to enter the Metaverse and conduct therapy with patients, but we're nowhere near far enough along for that yet. What we're asking of you requires no formal education or training, and the risk to you should be minimal. You'll be sent into Katsuji's Metaverse for no longer than five minutes. During that time, we'll have you collect some data, log observations, and then we'll extract you. You'll be finished before you know it."

Rin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? That's all? We're…not going to help him at all?"

"Well, like Tanaka-chan said, you are untrained. Our end goal is to help Katsuji recover, but we have to learn to walk before we can run."

Yoko let her eyes wander towards the boy whose mind they'd be invading. It did sound simple, especially considering the fantastic nature of what the doctor was proposing, so much so that she was convinced that there had to be more to it. But before she could voice her concern, Gin beat her to it.

"So what's the catch?"

"I know how it sounds, but there is no catch, at least not beyond what you've agreed to in the NDAs. You'll need to sign some additional waivers, of course, but you'll be spending such little time in the Metaverse that the risk of harm to you should be close to non-existent."

Gin's breath hitched, and he and Yoko exchanged uncertain looks. This, of course, didn't escape Isshiki's notice, and her expression softened.

"To be blunt, this project cannot continue without you. Your talent isn't exactly common, and we don't have the time to go hunting for more candidates at this stage. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to, but if you participate…we can make sure that you're properly compensated."

"...How much?" asked Gin.

Isshiki pursed her lips tightly.

"Name your price, and I'll tell you whether or not we can do it."

The boy didn't hesitate.

"Ten. Ten million yen. Each."

Yoko struggled to keep her eyes from bulging out of their sockets. Ten million? She struggled to imagine what they could possibly want that kind of money for…until she began to think about what she'd do with it herself. With ten million yen, she could easily move out, buy her own house and car, and even have plenty leftover for cost of living expenses. Coming at it from that perspective, she could see how it made sense. But there was no way these researchers would agree to an outrageous sum like that. Not for three people…

Isshiki's lips compressed even further, and she glanced at one of the other researchers beside her. After a moment of consideration, he eventually returned a curt nod.

"All right. We can do that. How about you, Tanaka-chan? Does ten million sound agreeable?"

Yoko found herself nodding before she could think a second more. This was it. Finally, a way to live life on her own terms, without using a single yen of her father's hush money. It was surreal to think about.

"Right then. We'll need to put you through some training and brief you on what to expect, so clear your after-school schedules for the next week or so." Isshiki paused, and broke into a relieved smile. "You're about to take part in something truly extraordinary. With your help, we're going to change people's lives."

• • • • •

Yoko trailed off as she finished recounting what Dr. Isshiki had said to them that day. It was tempting to be upset with her, but at the same time, there was no way she could have predicted what happened to them.

"So Gin was telling the truth," said Tetsuo. "You really weren't here to bring me back."

"...No," said Yoko, finding it hard to look him in the eye as she said it, "but once we realized the comms weren't working, we decided it was our only way out. The doctor said that people usually don't retreat inside their own minds like this unless they'd experienced some kind of trauma, so we made it our mission to see if we could figure out how to take care of it. That's why we started investigating the Clouds and the Yatabuya."

She paused for a moment and studied her shoes.

"...I'm sorry we kept all this from you for so long. It's just - we were told not to interact with you under any circumstances. The doctor was worried that we might make things worse…and, well, I guess we kinda did."

"You shouldn't be apologizing, Yoko. You were doing what you thought you had to do. If you guys hadn't stepped in, I might have lost myself for good. If there's anyone at fault here, it's me. I'm the one who signed that contract with Nyarlathotep…and I made the choice to follow his advice."

"About that…let's not dance around the elephant in the room. What…is he? We thought he was just some alternate cognitive version of yourself, but it's pretty obvious now that's not the case."

All at once, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier. The hair on the back of their necks stood on end as they felt the gaze of myriad unseen eyes train upon them. Tetsuo knew it was his way of letting him know he was watching. But despite the warning, Tetsuo mustered up the courage to answer.

"I don't know exactly. He's not human, and he's not a Shadow. If anything, he's more like some kind of god - I can't think of anything else that would have his kind of power."

"A god…" Yoko muttered. An actual god, and he'd been hiding amongst them the entire time. The thought tied her stomach in knots. "What in the world is he doing here, then?"

Tetsuo swallowed hard. Yoko deserved the truth, but that didn't make it any less difficult to talk about.

"He was looking for someone like me. I'd given up on reality, and he saw an opportunity. He wiped my memories and gave me back everything I lost after the accident - a body that could move the way I wanted it to, friends who would accept me, the chance to fight back against the people who'd hurt me."

"So, he helped make this world for you…in return for what? You saw what he did to Rin. I can't believe that someone who's capable of that was helping you out of the goodness of his heart. "

"He wants to use my body to return to the real world. As he is right now, he can't leave, but if I were to fulfill our contract completely, then he would live my life for me, while I get to stay here."

Yoko's eyes widened with horror, and there was a twinge of shame in Tetsuo's gut as he recalled the things Nyarlathotep had said to him in the hospital. Now that he'd heard Nightmare's side of the story, he realized how badly he'd been duped.

"I know, I know," said Tetsuo, "but you have to understand: the world we made, the time that I've spent with all of you - it made me feel happy in a way I never thought I'd feel again. Even if Nyarlathotep was only using me - he still listened. He didn't criticize me for wanting to leave my old life behind. It felt like he understood me in a way no one else did, so when we told me you guys were my enemy…I believed him."

"But you don't feel that way anymore, right?" Yoko asked.

Tetsuo chewed on his lower lip pensively.

"I really, really wish I could say 'yes' with all my heart, but…it's hard. There's a part of me that still doesn't want this dream to end. And it's not a small part, either. I don't want to erase everything that happened here and live the rest of my life pretending it didn't happen. The thought of it scares me so much it hurts."

Tetsuo reached up and wiped the tears forming in the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.

"But…the more I thought about it, the more I realized that after the accident, I never really tried to take control of my own life. I let things happen to me because I was too afraid to lose anything else. That's why it was so easy to accept Nyarlathotep's contract. It meant I could have what I wanted without having to change myself."

"You know what's funny about that?" Hayate said. "You did change. I'm willing to bet Nyarlathotep didn't expect you to, but you're not the same person you were when we met."

"Yeah. You didn't fight our Shadows for yourself," Koharu piped up.

"You did it to show us that there's always a reason to keep fighting, even if the world around you seems dark and hopeless," added Shibutani.

Tetsuo couldn't help but grin.

"You guys are right. I think that in my heart, I've always understood what I needed to do to move forward. From now on, I want to be the one who decides where my life goes from here. Even if it doesn't turn out any better than before…at least I'll have tried."

"It sounds like you're gonna be just fine. And remember, you won't be alone, either. I'll still be around if you need me. We're friends, after all," Yoko said.

"Thanks, Yoko. I wouldn't have made it this far without you - and I'm counting on you to help me see this through to the end, too."

"Right. We're not going anywhere until we take care of Nyarlathotep, huh?"

"Pretty much. When I agreed to his contract, we became bound together. He has just as much control over this world as I do…maybe more, since he has my guitar."

Yoko sat a little more upright at the mention of this.

"Wait, so Rin was right about that? It really is important?"

"Yeah. Dad bought it for me. He was the one who taught me how to play. Somehow, it survived the crash. Whenever I got upset, I'd take it out and play, and just for a little while, I could pretend he was still there. It's the most important thing in the world to me. Without it, I don't think I can control my own heart completely."

Taken aback, Yoko regarded him with a dazed stare.

"Tetsuo, I had no idea…god, I'm so sorry."

"That's all right," he responded somewhat awkwardly, "part of the reason this world even exists is because I couldn't move on from what happened that day. I think Dad would be upset if he knew that, so I need to make things right by him, too."

"If your dad was anything like your memories of him, I think he'd be proud to hear you say that," Yoko told him with a wan smile. She straightened up. "So if we can get your guitar back, you think you'll be able to defeat Nyarlathotep?"

"I think it's our best chance."

"Well then, Nyarlathotep said he'd give you a week. If we're gonna strike, we should do it sooner rather than later, right?" Yoko asked as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Right," he agreed, "but before we leave, there's something I need to do first."

This time when they approached the nurse's office, it was Tetsuo who stepped forward to knock.

"It's me, Gin. We're heading back to the hospital."

After a moment in which it seemed like he was going to ignore him, Gin spoke up.

"You're actually going to fight that monster?" He went quiet for a moment. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. It's either going to kill you and we die, or you're going to give into it again - and we die. There's no version of this story with a happy ending anymore. I'm staying right here until it's over."

Tetsuo let out a short sigh.

"...That's fine. You've been through a lot already because of me. I can't ask you to do any more than you've already done. But that's not why I'm here."

He paused, expecting Gin to ask why, but the other side of the door remained silent.

"I wanna see Rin before I go."

Again, minutes passed with no response.

"I know you're angry. I know that some of the blame for what happened to her lies with me. But that's why I can't just go off without saying anything. At least give me the chance to tell her that I'm going to fight. She needs to know that she didn't sacrifice herself for nothing."

Finally, after another stretch of silence, the lock clicked and the door slid open. Gin's face, haggard and defeated, stared back. Saying nothing, he stood aside and motioned towards Rin's bed with a curt nod of his head before he slumped back down onto his stool.

"Thanks," Tetsuo whispered before turning his attention to Rin. Try as he might, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering to the wound at her throat. Judging from the number of stained bandages in the wastebasket by the door, the injury was resisting any attempts to heal it. Tetsuo's fists clenched.

He knelt down beside her and took her hand in his. Her skin was pale and clammy, but as he rubbed her palm between his thumb and index finger, he could still feel a faint warmth deep within, pulsing with the beat of her heart.

"Hey, Rin. It's Tetsuo. I wanted you to know that I'm myself again."

He faltered, recalling the sound of her voice as it had echoed within the confines of that black armor.

"Y'know, I'd planned to come in here and apologize for being such a hypocrite. After all, I said all that stuff about facing your life head on, but when it came down to it, I couldn't even do that myself. But 'sorry' really isn't what you wanna hear, is it? It doesn't undo anything that happened, and it doesn't do anything to help you move forward, either. Both of us have spent too much time feeling stuck for words like 'sorry' to mean anything, huh?"

He gave her hand a light squeeze. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he felt her fingers squeeze ever so slightly back.

"So instead, I'm gonna prove to you that you were right about me. That people like you and I have lives worth living. Yoko and I…we're gonna go fight back against Nyarlathotep. And when we win, we'll go back to the real world and try again. Together."

Promise?

Her lips formed the word, but all that came out was a quiet, breathy rasp. As she pried her eyelids open, and those slivers of green found his, equal parts joy and anguish tore Tetsuo's heart in two.

Her voice was gone.

Astonished and overcome, Tetsuo nearly pulled her into his arms before he remembered her injury and opted for a brief peck on the cheek instead. Gin let out an audible gasp and bolted over, sending his stool clattering across the floor.

"Rin! Are you okay?!" he cried, elbowing Tetsuo bodily aside. "D-Don't move! You're going to make it worse."

Wincing, Rin rolled her eyes, pushed herself upright, and mimicked a writing motion with her hands. Understanding immediately, Koharu produced her sketchbook and a pencil from her bag and handed them over. Rin hastily jotted down a message, and gave the sketchbook to Tetsuo.

Tell Gin he's being a total weenie.

Tetsuo showed the message to her brother, who swallowed sheepishly and backed away. Yoko failed to stifle a snort. But despite her attempt at humor, Tetsuo found it hard to laugh.

"Rin, your voice…I…"

She smiled and shook her head, then reached for the sketchbook again.

No more 'sorry's, right? It's fine. I'm just happy that I got to sing for you at least once.

"'It's fine?' Even if you can't speak anymore?"

I put everything I wanted to say in that song. If it brought you back to me, then it was a price I'd pay over and over again.

"Then I promise I won't waste it. Thank you for never giving up on me, Rin. I love you."

I love you, too, she mouthed before grimacing in discomfort and massaging her throat. Gin leapt forward and eased her back into a reclining position.

"All right, that's enough," he murmured to her before turning to Tetsuo. "Now, if you're satisfied, leave her alone so she can rest."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Gin? You're still our navigator - we could really use your help."

"I've already answered you once. I'm not about to repeat myself."

Tetsuo let out a sigh of resignation.

"...Okay. Keep her safe, Gin."

He and Yoko turned to leave, and just as they were about to close the door, Gin called out after them.

"Good luck."

Yoko exhaled sharply. "Honestly? That's more than I expected from him. Looks like we'll be on our own after all. Anyhow, what do you think? Are you good to go?"

Tetsuo looked back over his shoulder at the others behind him.

"What're you lookin' at us for?" said Hayate cheekily. "You already know what we're gonna say, man. Let's beat this guy's ass."

"We'll prove to Nyarlathotep that you don't need him," said Koharu.

"I'm certain that the real me is very much looking forward to your recovery," Shibutani remarked.

Mariko placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You've come a long way, Tetsuo. Just a little bit further."

He turned back to Yoko, and gave her a resolute nod.

"Yeah. I think I'm ready. Let's take back my heart."