...04/10/2009 Sunday; Dark Hour...
...FULL MOON OPERATION...
Hiro growled under his breath, his body still vibrating in an intense frenzy.
His muscles trembled beneath his skin, his fingers still clenched tightly around the kukri's handle as if they couldn't let go. Every breath came out heavy, tearing through his throat.
But then…
A manic laugh echoed in his mind.
It was distorted—familiar, yet wrong at the same time.
Hiro's body stiffened. A cold shiver ran up his spine, raising every hair on his body.
Slowly, the red glow in his eyes began to fade.
His ragged breathing started to slow, the chaotic rhythm giving way to something calmer.
A confused groan escaped him.
His eyes dropped to the kukri in his hand—the blade drenched in black liquid, dripping between his fingers onto the asphalt.
Suddenly, his legs gave out.
Breathing hard, Hiro fell backward into a seated position. The fall was clumsy—his back hit the ground, the kukri slipping from his hand and clattering beside him.
He stayed there, sitting, breathing deeply, trying to understand what had just happened.
Fuuka, who had watched everything from a distance—watched the group tear the Shadow apart—ran straight toward him.
"Hiro!" her voice echoed.
Koromaru was already there. The dog barked anxiously, circling Hiro, tail wagging as he sniffed him and licked his face.
Fuuka dropped to her knees beside him, hands already moving over his body, searching for injuries.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide with worry.
The others, still processing everything, noticed Fuuka and Koromaru gathered around Hiro.
Mitsuru was the first to move.
She ran, her rapier swaying at her waist with each step. She reached them before the others, kneeling beside Fuuka, concern clear on her face.
"Are you okay?" Fuuka's voice trembled. Her hands shook as they settled on Hiro's shoulder, as if she needed to touch him to be sure he was really there. "Hiro?"
Hiro blinked a few times. Cold sweat ran down his forehead. His eyes met Fuuka's, but it took a second to focus.
"Guys…" His voice came out hoarse, confused. "What… what happened?"
Mitsuru studied his face, her eyes scanning every detail. Her heart still raced, but her voice remained calm as she answered.
"The same thing that happened during the Chariot and Justice Arcana fight." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It seems you entered some kind of rage… and destroyed the Shadow Arcana."
Hiro's eyes widened.
"Huh?" He turned toward Mitsuru, disbelief written all over his face. "You serious?"
Junpei approached from behind, sheathing his two-handed sword across his back. His expression still carried traces of shock.
"Man…" He scratched the back of his neck, unsure. "What the hell happened? You took that thing down like it was nothing."
Hiro shook his head slowly, confused. His hand rose to his face, rubbing his eyes as if trying to erase something that wasn't there.
"I…" His voice faltered. He cleared his throat. "I know… but… I didn't want it to escape… and I ended up doing that."
The images came back in flashes. The pole. The jump. The kukri sinking in. The punches. The screams.
Mitsuru didn't wait any longer.
Her hands rose and gently but firmly held Hiro's face. Her fingers pressed against his warm cheeks, turning his head so their eyes met.
"Are you okay?"
Their eyes locked again—and that strange feeling returned.
A connection that made no sense. An invisible thread pulling them together. The warmth rising in Hiro's chest reflected in Mitsuru's face, a blush she couldn't hide.
Hiro's heart beat faster.
Something inside him screamed. Something softer. More urgent.
He tried. His lips parted—but no words came.
So instead, he gave a weak, tired smile and raised his hand, gently removing Mitsuru's hands from his face.
Her fingers slid reluctantly from his cheeks before letting go completely.
"I'm fine." His voice came out steadier now. He nodded once, firmly. "Don't worry."
Mitsuru kept looking at him for a moment longer.
The blush on her cheeks refused to fade, even as the cold wind brushed her face.
Finally, she turned away and stood, straightening her posture.
Hiro looked aside—and saw Koromaru watching him.
The white dog stood beside him, ears perked, eyes fixed on his face.
Koromaru whimpered softly, his tail wagging in frantic circles against the asphalt.
A short laugh escaped Hiro's lips.
He raised his hand and began petting the dog, fingers sinking into his fur.
Koromaru tilted his head, pressing into his palm.
"I'm okay, boy." Hiro's voice softened, calmer now. He nodded once. "Don't worry."
Koromaru barked happily, his tail wagging even faster.
He licked Hiro's hand before sitting beside him, finally relaxing, the tension leaving his eyes.
Hiro stood up.
His legs hurt. His muscles screamed in protest as he put weight on them—but he ignored it.
He bent down and picked up the kukri. The blade was still dirty, dripping with remnants of the Shadow Arcana.
With a fluid motion, he spun it in his hand, flicking the black liquid off in an arc across the asphalt.
With a sharp movement, he sheathed it inside his coat.
Around them, the others began to relax.
Quiet conversations started—scattered words about the operation, the exhaustion, how difficult it had been.
Then Minato approached Hiro carefully.
When he stopped, their eyes met. There was something there—a question that didn't need to be spoken aloud.
They held each other's gaze for a moment. Just a moment.
Then Minato raised his hand, placing it on Hiro's shoulder and pulling him slightly closer—just enough so no one else could hear.
"What happened?" Minato's voice was low, almost a whisper. He glanced sideways, keeping the appearance of a casual conversation. "Was it the same as before?"
Hiro looked away for a moment.
The conversation with Lucifer.
Those words still echoed in his mind like a bell that wouldn't stop ringing.
"Remember what I told you before…" Hiro whispered back, also glancing sideways. "About sometimes being able to talk to my Persona?"
Minato nodded slightly. "Yeah."
"It happened again…" Hiro looked ahead at the group, now talking in relief. "Feels like Lucifer helped me."
Minato frowned. "Helped?"
Hiro nodded. "Yeah…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Now's not the best time to explain. When we get back to the dorm, I'll tell everyone."
Minato studied him for a moment longer. Then he nodded, stepped back, and his face returned to its usual neutral expression.
They both turned to look at the others.
Junpei stood with slumped shoulders, rubbing his right shoulder.
"Man…" he groaned tiredly. "I think all that running wasn't even worse than when we ran from that Void Shadow. But fighting two Arcanas… that's exhausting as hell."
Yukari slung her bow over her back, the movement precise despite her fatigue. "Yeah…" she agreed. "And Strega didn't even show up."
Aigis turned her head, eyes glowing in the dark. "By the way, any sign of Aragaki-senpai?"
Silence dropped like a bomb.
Everyone looked at each other—surprised. Then, like a wave, the realization hit them all at once.
Shinjiro. Ken.
Everyone—except Akihiko—turned to Fuuka at the same time. A silent chorus of eyes asking for an answer they already knew they wouldn't like.
Akihiko, however, didn't look at Fuuka.
He stared at the ground.
His shoulders were tense. His fists clenched.
Something was forming in his mind—like a puzzle finally coming together.
Fuuka felt the weight of their stares. She immediately closed her eyes, her hands rising in front of her chest.
Lucia appeared behind her briefly, digital grids opening as her Persona's vision expanded across the entire city.
She searched.
Searched for any trace of Shinjiro and Ken. Sweeping streets, alleys, abandoned buildings—every corner touched by the Dark Hour.
Nothing.
Fuuka's eyes opened. Nervousness filled them. Fear.
"I'm sorry…" her voice faltered. "But I couldn't find anything."
Mitsuru narrowed her eyes. Her hands clenched at her sides.
"Nothing?" The word came out sharp, almost a growl. "Damn it…" She looked up at the sky. "Could it be that they—"
She didn't finish.
Akihiko suddenly gasped.
A sharp, sudden sound that cut through the air like a blade. Everyone turned toward him, bodies tense, hearts racing.
Akihiko's eyes were wide. Confusion. Desperation. Something else—something like terror—burned within them. His whole body trembled.
How? How could he have forgotten this date?
His breathing quickened as he tried to steady himself.
"Akihiko…" Hiro's voice came out rougher than he intended. "What is it?"
Akihiko didn't answer immediately.
He looked at each of them again—and now his eyes were asking something. Begging for confirmation.
For someone to tell him he was wrong.
That this wasn't what he thought it was.
"Today…" Akihiko's voice came out hoarse. "Today is… October 4th… right?"
Everyone looks at each other, confused.
Their eyes meet in a silent circle of unanswered questions. They know today is October 4th.
But the way Akihiko asked...
"Yeah..." Yukari hesitates, trying to understand. "It is. Why?"
Akihiko doesn't respond.
He drags a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes hard, like he's trying to erase something forming in his mind.
His hand drops to his mouth, his chin—and he lets out a low, rough groan filled with frustration.
"Shit..."
His voice is small.
He stands there for a moment, hand still covering half his face, eyes fixed on the ground.
Then it clicks.
Loud. Clear. Final.
The pieces fall into place inside his head.
Shinjiro went after Ken.
The words don't leave his mouth. They don't need to. The terror in his eyes says everything.
He takes a few steps back, not looking at anyone. There's something there—something he can't bring himself to say.
Then he turns and runs.
Akihiko's footsteps slam against the asphalt, each impact echoing through the empty street. He runs like hell itself is chasing him.
The group freezes for a moment.
"Ah, fuck..." Hiro mutters, frustrated, not understanding what just happened. "Wait, Akihiko! Where are you going?!"
Hiro starts running before he can even think, chasing after him.
The others remain behind for a second.
Junpei scratches his head, fingers digging into his hair as he tries to process it. "Huh...?" His voice drags, confused. "What's so important about October 4th? It's not even a holiday..."
Mitsuru's eyes widen.
The color drains from her face. Her lips tremble before pressing into a thin line.
"Oh my god..."
It's just a whisper. But everyone hears it.
All heads turn toward her at once.
And they see it.
The same expression Akihiko had moments ago.
Horror.
Realization.
Her hand rises to her mouth, fingers pressing against her lips as if trying to hold something back that's already too late to stop.
Her eyes are locked on the direction where Akihiko and Hiro disappeared.
"Kirijo-senpai..." Yukari takes a hesitant step forward. Her voice shakes. "What happened?"
Mitsuru doesn't answer.
She just stares into the distance. The wind moves her hair, but she doesn't feel it. All she feels is the cold spreading through her chest.
Bang.
The sound slices through the night like a blade.
It comes from Gekkoukan Station.
A gunshot.
There's no time to think. Mitsuru moves before words can form—she's already running, her steps long and fast.
"Kirijo-senpai?!" Aigis calls out, confused.
Mitsuru glances over her shoulder as she runs. Her face is pale, her eyes wide.
"There's no time to explain!" Her voice comes out louder than intended. "Hurry—come on!"
Without understanding, everyone starts running after her.
Mitsuru runs faster.
Akihiko is already ahead—together with Hiro.
And both of them know—
With a desperation that burns their lungs and crushes their chest—
That they need to reach Shinjiro.
Before it's too late.
TO BE CONTINUED...