...05/10/2009 Monday; Night...
Countless voices echoed through a troubled mind.
Not real voices—memories. Fragments. The muffled sound of a body collapsing onto the asphalt. The scream of someone she couldn't identify. The ragged breathing, the smell of iron, the dark pool spreading under the green light of the Dark Hour. The body stretched out on the ground rested—but her mind did not.
Could he have been saved?
The words spun in a cruel loop. The suppressors Shinjiro took to contain his Persona.
Could it have been prevented?
"Mitsuru."
The voice cut through the whirlwind like a blade slicing through water. Calm. Steady. Familiar.
Mitsuru opened her eyes.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed. The blankets, perfectly smoothed, hadn't been touched since she returned from school.
The bedspread remained taut, the pillows aligned—the room of someone who hadn't allowed herself to lie down, hadn't allowed herself to rest, only to sit and sink.
She was still wearing her uniform. Her shoes still on her feet.
The room was dark. The only light came from outside: the streetlamp spilling an orange rectangle through the window, and the crack of the half-open door letting the hallway light escape.
When Mitsuru raised her eyes toward the door, she saw Hiro standing there. His silhouette leaning against the doorframe.
His eyes fixed on her, serious, tired, carrying a darkness she recognized because it was the same one she felt weighing on herself.
But the moment she blinked.
She sees Akihiko.
His right hand braced against the doorframe. A worried expression staring at her. The hallway light outlining the shape of his body.
Mitsuru massaged her eyelids with her fingertips.
"Ah... it's you, Akihiko." Her voice came out hoarse. Tired. "Sorry... I didn't hear you knocking on the door."
Akihiko entered the room slowly, his steps making the wooden floor creak as he approached Mitsuru's bed. "Are you okay?"
She let out a heavy sigh.
"Yes..." Mitsuru didn't look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on an empty spot on the wall. "...it's just hard to believe Aragaki was killed. But there's no point in dwelling on it."
Akihiko scratched his head, his fingers ruffling the strands of his hair.
"Yeah... we met him when S.E.E.S. was founded." He paused. His voice softened. "Even though he was hot-headed, he was a good person."
A pale smile bloomed on Mitsuru's lips. Fragile. Almost invisible. But it was there. "Yeah... he was."
Akihiko ran his hand over the back of his neck—another old tic. His eyes drifted to the hallway behind him, where the light drew elongated shadows on the floor.
They had something to do. Something Mitsuru had promised to do and still hadn't found the strength to begin.
Tell the truth.
About Shinjiro. About Ken. About everything.
Akihiko turned his gaze back to Mitsuru and extended his hand.
"Come on. Everyone's waiting for us to talk about Ken."
His hand hung there, suspended in the air. Steady. Waiting.
Mitsuru stared at it for an instant. The same hand that hours before had been closed in a fist, bathed by the yellow glow of a new Persona. The same hand that had trembled in the auditorium and now trembled no more.
She took it.
Her cold fingers found his, and Akihiko pulled her gently. Mitsuru rose from the bed. The blankets remained untouched. Her shoes touched the floor with a muffled sound.
Mitsuru and Akihiko left the room and walked down the hallway in silence.
The floorboards creaked under their steps—a sound that normally went unnoticed, but that night seemed amplified, as if the dorm itself were listening. The stairs led them upward, toward the command room.
"Is everyone there?" Mitsuru's voice carried a cautious curiosity.
Akihiko shook his head. "No. I tried to call Ken, but he said he doesn't want to talk to anyone..." He paused. His eyes drifted to the hallway on the left. "...and Hiro..."
The image came before he could block it.
Minutes before, Akihiko had stopped in front of Hiro's room. The door was ajar, the light off. Inside, sitting on the floor, his back against the wardrobe, Hiro looked like a statue carved from shadows.
His head hung low. His arms loose over his bent knees. The hallway light cut diagonally through the room and hit only part of his face—enough for Akihiko to see his eyes.
Lifeless. Unfocused. Open, but looking inward.
Akihiko called out. Low. Then louder. Hiro didn't move a muscle. Didn't blink. Showed no sign of having heard. As if his body were there, but the rest had gone somewhere he didn't know—or didn't want—to return from.
Akihiko shook his head, pushing the memory away. "He... didn't answer me." His voice came out deeper. "So I left him alone."
Mitsuru stopped.
Her feet simply ceased to move. Her right hand, which until then had been swinging discreetly at her side, went still.
Something inside her chest tightened—not like a punch, but like a knot being pulled slowly, carefully, making each heartbeat harder than the last.
She remembered.
She remembered Hiro in the classroom, leaning over her desk with that crooked smile, saying something silly just to make her roll her eyes. She remembered the night they faced the Void Shadow and how, when it was all over, Hiro looked at her and smiled. Not a smile of victory. A smile of relief.
Now he was sitting on the floor of a dark room... alone.
Mitsuru raised her face and saw the doors of the command room. The others were inside. Waiting for her.
But Hiro's eyes wouldn't leave her mind—two black voids calling out to her without making a sound.
"Can you go ahead and tell them?"
The question caught Akihiko off guard. He blinked. "Huh... sure." A pause. "But what are you going to do?"
Mitsuru was already turning around. Her red hair swaying with the movement.
"I'm going to talk to Hiro. Don't worry, I'll come up to the command room soon." Her voice came out steady, but there was something different in it—an urgency that had nothing to do with strategy or duty.
She began descending the stairs before Akihiko could answer.
He stood there, watching Mitsuru's silhouette disappear around the bend of the stairs. In all the years they had fought side by side, he had never seen her do anything like that.
Abandon a meeting. Postpone a decision. Prioritize one person over the group.
Akihiko shrugged—a light gesture, almost to himself. Then he turned around and pushed open the doors of the command room.
TO BE CONTINUED...