...04/10/2009 Sunday; Dark Hour...
...FULL MOON OPERATION...
The wind cut through the alley like a cold blade.
It slammed against the tall building walls and curled back in restless eddies, making Shinjiro's coat ripple slowly.
Ken's uniform whipped more violently, the fabric snapping in the heavy air of the Dark Hour.
Neither of them moved.
Their gazes were locked on each other.
The silence between them seemed to tighten the space of the alley, as if the walls themselves were slowly closing in.
Shinjiro kept his hands in his pockets.
Motionless.
His eyes fixed on the boy in front of him.
Something inside his chest weighed heavily. Old. Familiar. Something he had carried for years, pushing it to the back of his mind whenever he could.
Now it was there.
Right in front of him.
Ken slowly drew in a breath through his nose.
The sound of it seemed far too loud in the silence.
His fingers slid along the shaft of the spear until they found the proper grip. The metal scraped lightly against the ground when he lifted it.
His eyes drifted away for a moment, avoiding Shinjiro's gaze.
"You know why I called you here?"
His voice came out cold.
Far too controlled for someone his age.
Shinjiro tilted his head slightly.
"Mm."
Nothing more.
Ken turned around fully.
The greenish glow of the Dark Hour illuminated his face.
He was still the same boy.
Short. Young. The S.E.E.S. uniform looked too big for his small frame.
But his eyes…
Those weren't a child's eyes.
Something dark lived there.
Something kept buried for far too long.
Ken nodded slowly.
"I thought so…" he murmured. "Since you skipped today's operation just to come."
He took a deep breath.
But the air stopped halfway.
His chest tightened.
His fingers began to tremble.
A low sound slipped from his throat — a growl trapped between clenched teeth.
The memories came like a punch.
The smell returned first.
The metallic scent of blood.
Far too much of it for a boy barely old enough to understand what he had been seeing that day.
His hand tightened around the spear.
Harder.
His knuckles turned white.
His breathing grew uneven, fast, almost ragged.
He raised his eyes to Shinjiro.
"Two years ago… on October fourth."
The wind blew harder between the buildings.
Shinjiro didn't move.
But he saw.
He saw every change in Ken's face.
The trembling jaw.
The shining eyes.
That raw mixture of pain and hatred rising in front of him.
"It was the day…" Ken continued, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment. "The day my mom died."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
His face turned aside, as if trying to push the memory away.
"They said it was a car accident." His fingers creaked against the spear's shaft. "But no… of course that's not what really happened."
Then he opened his eyes again. They were wet.
Air tore into his throat.
"Because I saw it." His voice came out lower, more broken. "I saw my mom being killed."
Tears began to fall.
Heavy with something that had been rotting inside him for two years.
Suddenly he raised his spear.
It thrust toward Shinjiro's chest.
But it stopped just inches away.
Close enough to pierce his heart with a single push.
Tears streamed down Ken's face.
But his hand no longer trembled.
Shinjiro didn't react. He simply looked at the boy standing before him.
Ken clenched his teeth.
His voice tore out of his throat.
"YOU KILLED HER!"
Air burst from Ken's chest in short gasps.
Every breath scraped his throat raw.
The tears kept falling, dripping onto the alley floor.
His fingers trembled around the spear.
It was too much.
Two years holding all of it in, pretending he could keep going.
Shinjiro felt a chill crawl up his spine when he heard those words. His eyes drifted away for a moment, landing on the alley wall beside him.
Anywhere.
Anywhere but that boy's face.
The spear's tip slowly lowered.
The metal scraped against the concrete when Ken let his arm fall. His head dropped too, his eyes fixed on the ground.
"Ever since she died…" His voice came out hoarse, choking. "Nothing good has happened in my life."
The wind rushed through the alley again, making the ends of his hair sway.
"It's torture… still being alive."
His eyes shifted to his left shoulder.
The S.E.E.S. armband.
The fabric was worn along the edges.
Memories came uninvited.
The first time he entered the dorm.
The voices.
The smiles.
Even during battles… in the middle of chaos… there had been something there.
Something he had almost forgotten how it felt.
Ken shook his head hard, as if trying to throw those thoughts away.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, angrily brushing away the tears.
"And all I get…" his voice turned bitter, "…is everyone's sympathy."
He stepped forward and slammed his foot against the ground.
The sound echoed through the alley.
"Wherever I go!" His face twisted in confusion. "What's the point of living like this?!"
Angry.
Lost.
His chest rose and fell heavily.
"I even thought about killing myself…" The words hung in the air. "…but I wouldn't be able to face my mom afterward."
The wind swept between the buildings again.
Ken lifted the spear.
The shaft struck the ground with a sharp crack when he planted it in front of him.
Then he raised his face.
His eyes met Shinjiro's again.
This time there was no doubt there.
Only hatred.
"But then I made a promise." His voice came out low. "I'd keep living… until I found my mother's killer."
He tightened his grip on the spear.
The muscles in his arms tensed.
"YOU!"
Inside his overcoat, Shinjiro's hands slowly clenched.
His fingers dug into the fabric.
He had never wanted this.
Never wanted Castor to lose control that day.
Never wanted anyone to die.
But the result was standing right there in front of him.
Breathing.
The past couldn't be erased.
Ken spun the spear with a quick, precise motion, the shaft sliding through his fingers before stopping firmly in his grip.
He stepped forward, taking a combat stance.
The spear's tip pointed straight at Shinjiro.
Tears began to fall again.
But his voice rang out loud.
Filled with fury.
"My mom is with me now…" He clenched his teeth. "I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID TO HER! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
The scream echoed through the alley, crashing against the building walls and spilling out toward the silent streets of Gekkoukan Station.
But they weren't alone.
In the shadows of a nearby rooftop, a figure watched.
Motionless.
Eyes gleaming in the dark.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Well, would you look at that…" the voice murmured. "…this makes things a lot easier."
MEANWHILE...
Footsteps echoed through the empty streets of Tatsumi Port Island.
Fast. Heavy. Each strike against the asphalt shattered the unnatural silence of the Dark Hour.
Green light spilled across the building facades, reflecting in the windows like distorted eyes watching from above.
Amid the echoes of footsteps—
A groan. Drawn-out. Painful.
The Arcana of Strength floated unsteadily through the street.
The iron bars that formed her body were bent and broken, some still snapping loose with every movement.
Her dress was soaked with black liquid that continued to pour out, dripping onto the ground and leaving a viscous trail behind.
The flowers that once surrounded her now fell one by one.
Dead.
She let out an irritated snort, her body trembling from exhaustion.
Until—something crossed her mind.
A voice.
"He is behind you…"
The Arcana of Strength clutched her head, letting out an irritated growl.
"Don't let the Devil's Herald—" The voice faltered. "…survive… survive your end—"
Before she could hear the rest, a gunshot split the air.
The blast echoed down the street like a dry thunderclap.
A flash lit everything behind the Shadow.
"Persona!"
The Arcana of Strength turned around in alarm to see who it was.
And she saw Mitsuru standing in the middle of the street, still pointing the Evoker at her own head.
In front of her, a form began to materialize.
The figure of Penthesilea emerged with elegance, her blades gleaming beneath the greenish moonlight.
Without hesitation, Penthesilea advanced.
The sound of the air being torn apart echoed down the street.
One of her blades pierced straight through the back of the Arcana of Strength.
The impact tore a distorted scream from the creature.
Without wasting time, Penthesilea used Bufula.
Crystals began spreading from the embedded blade, running along the Shadow's bars like frozen roots. The metal cracked as the layer of ice expanded, trapping part of her body.
The Arcana of Strength screamed again.
Penthesilea yanked the sword free with a violent pull—then, with a graceful spin in the air, she delivered a kick straight to the Shadow's chest.
The Shadow was hurled down the street, sliding and ricocheting across the asphalt.
Mitsuru slowly lowered her arm.
Her breathing was heavy. Sweat ran down the side of her face, but her eyes remained fixed on the Arcana.
She holstered the Evoker and looked toward something behind the Shadow.
"Now!" Her voice cut through the air. "Attack her!"
The sound of gunfire began tearing through the street.
The Arcana of Strength tried to stand—
But the bullets started hitting her one after another.
She screamed in pain and twisted her body, trying to flee.
That was when she saw them.
At the far end of the street, the rest of S.E.E.S. was advancing toward her.
And at the front of them was Aigis.
Her eyes glowed with agonizing focus.
The machine guns built into her arms were raised and firing without pause.
A heavy barrage ripped through the street.
One of the bullets struck directly into the section frozen by Penthesilea.
Then the ice shattered.
The frozen layer exploded into shining fragments, and with it the Shadow's structure gave way.
A violent surge of black liquid burst from the wound.
TO BE CONTINUED...