Post by Souji Seta on Apr 5, 2009 16:50:37 GMT -5
[WARNING: Extremely Violent]
In retrospect, Souji had no reason to be nervous. Because in that moment of opening the door to his home, there was nothing to be nervous about.
The day had been a long one. Dojima-san and Nanako had left early that morning for the city on an overnight trip to visit with Nanako's maternal grandparents. Dojima had offered to let him come along but Souji had declined and his Uncle had only nodded, understanding. The idea of sitting in a room with four other people whose very presence reminded the others of what they had lost wasn't very appealing to the sixteen year old. It didn't appear to be appealing to Dojima either but familial obligation had won out in the end, like it often did, and the older man had said goodbye the night before with a reminder to study and lock the windows and doors when he went out.
Souji had nodded from where he sat, pouring over notes at his desk. He hadn't even given the reminders a second thought, too busy cramming for his last and most difficult final -- World History. Any thing that didn't involve dates or prominent historical figures was to be disregarded for the time being. He had a test to ace, after all.
If only he had paid more attention...
Friday ended with the sound of students throughout the school either crying for joy or just flat out crying. Souji was too tired to do either. His mere four hours of sleep the night before had miraculously gotten him through the test -- but that was it. In a haze of exhaustion, he waved off Yosuke and Chie's pleading requests to go to Junes and compare answers, heading straight for home. He actually felt lucky to have the house to himself -- blessed, even, to be granted the oh-so-vital gift of peace and quiet.
Yawning, he pushed open the door and stretched, wondering if Dojima would mind if he turned up the air conditioner a little while they were away.
Nothing to be nervous about at all.
---
The cop wasn't here. The little girl wasn't here... perfect. One may question why a psychopath would bother waiting for his prey to be alone, but Hiroki'd rather not be seen- and killing such small children was a pain... it was amazing what things they could sneak themselves under, like terrified little kittens. That, and they seemed to be particularly loud in the dying throes. This residential district was disgustingly overcrowded- he'd have to be quiet.
"If you want it to be quiet, Miyamora, claw his throat out. Rip, tear, and shred until the only thing emerging from his mouth is blood."
...Dumbass Apophis. He didn't need to claw the kid's throat out. That's what the knife was for. This was going to be far easier than he had hoped, though. The minute he met that kid back in June, Apophis screamed for him to kill him. There was no questioning- this Souji Seta boy had to die. And now, he had slipped Hiroki's intentions to somebody else. That... that just wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all.
Squealing pigs had to be silenced, Hiroki decided, and it would be wise to strike while there were no sentries. If it took the police so long to find his decaying, disassembled corpse thrown around the house, hey, it was no skin off of his bones. Did he feel bad about the fact that he would be potentially exposing a first-grader to the horror of seeing a murdered, destroyed body?
Nope.
And, after once again revealing his wonderful feelings and outlook towards humanity with his own mental inquiries, the man prepared for the murder. He had worn his usual clothes- it's not like the dead could testify against him to the police- while adorning only one thing differently.
He'd rather not have that Souji kid see his face. It added such an interesting dynamic to see if the teenager could vaguely remember his voice and his figure- his hair, even, since the mask only covered the front half of his head. He was going to have fun with this if he was going to get covered in blood and gore, damnit. Ever so calmly and meticulously, the man watched, patiently assuring that there was nobody out on the street at such a dark time in the night, before slamming the mask on his face.
White and pearly, the visage was rather smoothed, a gold lining surrounding its edges as the 'face' formed into that eerily similar to some sort of snake. A black gem could be found slammed in the middle, directly in the forehead, while Hiroki's mouth could still be seen via the mask's gaping jaws, his eyes still easily visible.
He had brought along a nice array of things in case they were needed, or if he felt like it... but for now, assuring that he could easily scale the fence that the Dojimas had built around their house, he glared at a first-floor window.
"Bring out his natural instinct, boy. The human mind is most afraid of seeing a giant, unknown predator coming straight at it. I believe it would... entertain you."
He quite liked that idea- and so, rather violently, Hiroki Miyamora barreled in, shattering the opening quite easily and jumping in, ignoring the slight sting of glass splinters reaching his exposed hands.
It probably took less than a second for Hiroki to completely scan the first floor, never letting the leader of the Investigation Team analyze what was going on before finding an opportunity to slam into him, taking careful caution in making sure that his pinned prey was on his back- looking right at him.
This pig... this pig had better squeal, Hiroki thought, only looking all the more manic with his black hair almost framing the mask.
"Hello, kid."
---
He'd seen him coming. Just for a flash, for a moment, he could see the masked figure barreling down on him, looking more animal than human.
Souji quietly wished he hadn't.
The man was tall, with large paw-like hands that held him to the floor with such vigor that his long nails cut into Souji's skin. Tanned, with wild dark hair, the man gave off an oppressive aura that nearly choked the teenager. His eyes were the most troubling, however, as they were the most familiar. They gleamed with the same sort of unearthly light that the eyes of Shadows possessed in the other world. If he didn't know it was impossible, he would've believed that his assailant was a Shadow, there to exact some sort of revenge.
'Hello, kid.'
Souji found himself shaking at the almost amused timber of the man's voice. Perhaps he had been shaking since he'd first been so easily brought down, he couldn't remember. His head throbbed so badly that it was hard to think clearly at all?
Then it hit him
'A great serpent will rise from the fog'
Just as Igor's warning echoed within his mind, the air above his attacker's head started to twist and change. He feared hallucination at first -- after all, his head felt as if it had been split open -- but the vision was too real to have been created by his mind. It was gigantic, its form coiled around his home while its head rose up over the man who had pinned him down. The snake's tongue whipped in and out of his mouth, smelling him hungrily. It seemed almost as if it whispered something into the man?s ear, urging him forward with cold, dead eyes. This man was its host. And it wasn't the first time they had met, either. He'd felt this distinct chill in the air only once before -- while shaking the hand of a man he thought to be his ally.
He felt like screaming, but he knew that there was no way anyone would hear him. The man had put all his weight on Souji's chest, restricting his air considerably. Besides, he was too smart to act while anyone would have been in hearing range. He was completely alone.
His voice thin from insufficient air, he breathed out a single name, "...H-Hiroki."
---
Wow. Was the kid really that much of a pussy? Apparently, his head slamming into the wall had stunned him... damn. And Hiroki wanted him to be wide awake for this, too. Ah, well. Beggars can't be choosers. Briefly thinking about the situation, he knew that he had the absolute upper hand- there was nothing. Absolutely nothing could stop him. He was going to kill the idiot now, and he was going to have a party doing it.
After hearing that hoarsely gasped name, the man's brow furrowed slightly, though he quite enjoyed this mask- if the only thing Souji could read were the slight flashes in his eyes and his mouth, it would probably just terrify the boy even more. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Cut his throat, Hiroki. Slash it wide open. Do it."[/i]
The ghostly whisper was completely ignored, the dead look in Apophis's eyes hiding the reality of how irritated the monster really was when Hiroki decided to go solo on his torture methods. There was nobody here. He could have as much fun as he wanted as long as this damn kid stayed awake, he decided, mockingly sitting on the teenager, assuring that he didn't have enough air to comfortably breathe- but enough air to at least stay conscious.
Cheerfully sitting on his quarry and crossing one leg over the other after deciding that his victim wouldn't be able to move for a while after such an impact to the head, Hiroki almost cheerfully whistled, rapping a finger on his chin as if in deep thought, though the only sound that emerged was the maddening monotony of his nail hitting cold, hard metal.
And then he pulled the pocket knife out of his jacket, casually dangling it in Souji's face before snapping it open. "You really need to smile more, kid. I can help you with that." Savoring every moment and lowering the knife mockingly, he contemplated simply slashing his cheeks open right now.
CRASH!
The sound of a stray feline desperately scrabbling about for food outside caused the man to jolt as it knocked over a trash can while springing from platform to platform- causing Hiroki to 'accidentally' leave two deep slashes in his victim's cheeks, though not cutting completely.
Oh, what a smile. Completely disregarding what degree of pain Souji must have been in, Hiroki wryly grinned, tapping the handle of his knife repetitively on the ash-haired teenager's forehead.
"Oh, do forgive me for that. I got a little startled and couldn't help what I was doing. ...I don't suppose anybody's going to be coming here any time soon, right?"
There was no caution in his voice- only pure venom.
---
He had begun mercifully slipping out of consciousness when the pressure on his chest was relieved somewhat. Sucking in a deep breath, he suddenly felt more awake. But his newfound awareness came with a price. Each part of his body ached anew, while his head throbbed violently. Then the pressure returned again, though not as intensely as before, while his captor settled himself on Souji's chest calmly and coolly. He could still breath. He wouldn't be drifting off to sleep for this.
Hiroki wanted him awake.
The mouth beneath the mask smirked with some sort of perverse glee before he spoke, prompting Souji to close his eyes if only so he wouldn't have to look at it any longer. Still regaining his bearings, Souji only grasped pieces of what he was saying. Something about his smile? His brow furrowed, trying to understand. Hoping to gain some insight from the man's eyes, he opened his own -- only to see his own reflection mirrored in the blade of a knife.
CRASH!
Souji's clouded grey eyes shot open in a flash as he grit his teeth, hissing sharply. He didn't want to give Hiroki the satisfaction of making him scream.
He could feel blood seeping into his mouth from the gashes, the coppery taste overwhelming him with disgust as it pooled in the back of his throat, forcing him to swallow every so often to keep from choking. This and the ceaseless tap-tap-tapping of the knife handle on his forehead made it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything beyond the pain. He felt as if he was going to vomit.
Each word he spoke stung sharply, causing sweat to bead on his forehead while he struggled to answer.
"No. No one's coming. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
---
A complacent smile. Nobody was coming, and Souji was smiling more than he probably had in his whole damn life. Calmly looking around, the man tapped his feet, withdrawing the knife from his prey's forehead as he thoughtfully looked around, questioning if he should try using the environment to his advantage.
Too bad the place was damn childproof. Ugh, he knew this kid had a damn cousin, but surely there was something sharp, right...? Well, shit. That pissed him off, as Hiroki fumbled for a cigarette, smoothly pulling out a lighter before offering his mouth the stick of nicotine.
Taking the utmost care to irritate Souji, he made sure to take a long drag and calmly puff, watching the thin wisps of air rise and disappear throughout the house. Well. They were all alone here, were they? There was nobody to save Souji... this was perfect. Absolutely ideal. He loved it, smoothly revealing what he knew in an almost sing-song fashion.
"Well, shit, your uncle and your little bitch of a cousin are off to see some old folks. Looks like I'm babysitting."
Feigning concern and dignity, Hiroki mockingly gasped.
"Oh, god forbid I smoke in front of the children." And so, after making sure that the cigarette was glowing red hot, he cheerfully ground the butt of it into his pitiful victim's forehead. "You have any fun ideas, kid? Let Hiroki-nii take care of it all, eh?"
The knife was suddenly lifted, the grin turning into the most perverse, sadistic expression imaginable.
"And let's start like this."
The knife was driven down into Souji's leg, never stopping until it hit something extremely solid- and Hiroki repeated this. In his arms, in his legs... hell, he almost wanted to stab him in the neck, but Hiroki knew not to kill him so fast.
"Christ, kid, you're a bleeder."
---
He grit his teeth moreso, his eyes hardening as he continued to look up at the intimidating figure. His hands were clenched tightly out of both rage and pain. How dare this asshole talk about his family -- about Nanako -- in such cruel terms so blithely. Considering how much Hiroki knew, he must have been watching him for days, even weeks, waiting for a moment to do away with him. Hell, for all Souji knew, Hiroki had been planning out his death since the moment they'd met.
But he'd made a mistake.
If anything stirred courage inside the teenager, it was threats against his friends and family -- he wouldn't let this psycho best him. He made a promise to himself then and there that whatever happened after, Souji wouldn't let this bastard kill him. He would be coming out of this alive.
If there was one thing Souji had in spades, it was hope.
Coughing hoarsely at the smoke being blown in his direction, he tried to speak. In the intense distress of his lungs, he could only managed a quiet, "Don't talk abo-," before the sizzling burn of tar and ash pressed deep into his forehead. His mind felt like it was splitting in two. How he was able to think so calmly in the first place was a miracle in and of itself. But still, he hadn't screamed. Hiroki's desire for entertainment was palpable. Otherwise, Souji would?ve been dead thirty minutes ago. Hiroki wanted a scream out of him. He wanted to enjoy this.
Ah, Souji thought distantly, his dry lips parted slightly from exhaustion, so that was his hubris. Boredom.
As long as he didn't scream, Souji realized, he would remain alive. And the longer Hiroki pursued his perverse game, the harder it would be for him to simply end it without any payoff. The ashen-haired youth steeled his resolve, taking short breaths. He could see the knife cutting into his flesh, scraping along his bone, causing blood to splurt forth like some sort of hideous geyser.
His breath was hitched, voice thin with pain, "I don't care what y-you do to me. You won't win."
Souji would not scream. Not for him.
---
Perhaps he had underestimated this brat, if only slightly. Certainly, he didn't really care that the boy had figured out the machinations of a blighted brain. It would take a lot more effort to get his fun, but Hiroki was surprisingly persistent and tenacious if his macabre entertainment was at stake. However... he was a tad bit disheartened at the fact that he didn't seem like much of a screamer. Well, shit. Furrowing his brow under that mask, receding the knife from its new sheath inside the chest of his downed game, Hiroki thought for a mere second about what he could possibly do.
This house did seem rather flammable, he cheerfully pondered, before he acknowledged the torrential slamming of the rain on the roof. It had been raining and the man never noticed? ...Hmmm. Who'd have thought?
"Don't worry, kid. I've already won, but you can live in your little land of denial as long as you please. Death is hard to accept. I know that..."
The 'sagely' advice held no academic tone or reason, the man with the snakelike mask's glittering verdant eyes relishing the silence, hearing nothing but rain and the dripping of blood from his ensanguined knife and the teenager it had been used upon. And then the TV rapidly crackled, apparently receiving a bad signal before focusing into the clear image of a foggy, sickening laboratory. Oh, Hiroki's favorite show was on... and, making sure Souji could watch, he cleaned the knife off while absorbing its implications.
"...Well, kid. Looks like that Detective Prince bastard is the next one I'm going after. Little cocky brat. We'll see how experienced and wonderful he is when I've got a gun."
Some bloody, broken light bulb suddenly went on in Hiroki's mind, the man making himself comfortable by shifting his position slightly on Souji before cheerfully telling his story, never bothering to see if the boy wanted to listen or not.
"You remember that Mitsuo Kubo kid, don't you? I have to admit, thanks to you dipshits, it was a bit hard to get to him... but I got him. I didn't kill him while he was on the TV, of course, but I made up for it killing him afterwards, wouldn't you think?"
"Wretched cur! Do you realize the implications of this? The general does not courteously send over a bird with his war tactics bound to its leg! Idiocy! Absolute foolishness, Miyamora. Silence the whelp now, or you shall learn how scatter-brained it was of you to let loose your strategy!"[/i]
The ranting hissing was calmly filtered out.
"He was a squirmer, all right. Looked like a damn fish. Almost wanted to hang him up like one and skin him, but I had to do with some kerosene, some matches, and a gun. Gotta be creative with what you got..."
And then he was cut off by a distinctive electronic chime in Souji's pocket, Hiroki smirking as he dove into the boy's pocket and ripped out a phone, looking at the screen and noting the name as he opened it, clicked the answer button, and held it to Souji's ear.
"Looks like somebody's calling, kid."
---
"Don't worry, kid. I've already won, but you can live in your little land of denial as long as you please. Death is hard to accept. I know that..."
Souji narrowed his eyes, focusing all his energy on communicating the intense hatred he felt for this man. Who the hell was he to muse on death? Hiroki, a psychopath. No doubt a murderer. He had gone about Souji's own attack with such careful precision and meticulousness -- there was no way that this was his first kill.
No, Souji thought, squeezing his eyes shut again as he tried to ignore the sound of his blood dripping off Hiroki's blade, gathering into reflective pools. This wasn't going to end in a kill. He would find a way out of it, he wouldn't stop believing that. To acknowledge his pain and accept death would mean that Hiroki had won. He couldn't let that happen, no matter how he ended up. These proceedings were bigger than just attempted murder. Hiroki would kill again -- would kill again thousands of times -- if he lost now. Not only his friends and family, but other innocents would fall as well.
It didn't seem fair that he had been the one chosen by the Velvet Room. Not with an enemy like this to overcome. He was only sixteen years old. Smart and strong, yes, but still inexperienced and naive. And they had chosen him? What did he possess that made it possible for him to overcome this?
But despite his doubts, he had to be strong. No one else would die -- including himself. His sense of justice wouldn't allow it. Hiroki would not win.
Souji's head lolled to the side briefly, the exhaustion making it hard to hold it up any longer. He could see his own blood seeping into the carpet -- the stain growing and darkening slowly, but surely. How much longer did he have?
A sudden familiar sound of static filled the air.
Within an instant, Hiroki had gripped Souji's hair, twisting his neck so that he could watch. The pain in his scalp grew with each moment Hiroki held him in this way, but he forced himself to pay attention. After all, he told himself, you'll still have to save this one too when you get out of this.
The slight figure on the screen instantly registered as familiar. Speaking so softly that no real sound passed through his cracked, bloodied lips, Souji murmured the boy's name to himself.
"Naoto?"
Hiroki was off again, gloating smugly about how he would be doing away with the Detective Prince. Souji had expected this, yes, but he didn't anticipate what came next. Mitsuo? All this time, the police had expected the high school student's grisly murder to have been committed by one of the past victims family or friends. As Hiroki continued on, Souji slowly put the pieces together. This man believed that what the killer was doing was right. When the deaths stopped, it must have infuriated him beyond comprehension. So he had appointed himself to fix it. He decided that he'd be the one who would personally guide each of the victims and more to their death.
Souji's eyes widened slightly in fear. If those assumptions were correct, Hiroki must have the ability to enter the TV -- he may even have a persona. As soon as he thought of the word, it hit him. That snake -- the one with the dead eyes?that was Hiroki's persona?
Souji didn't get the chance to think on it any longer. A familiar beeping cut through Hiroki's mad ramblings. His phone?
His eyes widened when he saw Hiroki feel around his pocket, removing the device. Let him destroy it, Souji thought. It wasn't as if he couldn't get another. But that's when Hiroki surprised him for the third time that evening.
Flipping open the phone, he pressed it to Souji's ear, urging him to talk. Souji already knew who it was -- Yosuke always called after an episode of the Midnight Channel. No, no, no, Souji told himself mentally. Don't get your friend involved. Stay calm.
Yosuke had begun speaking by now, but Souji cut him off. He needed to put forward what was happening to him. Calmly, he reminded himself, eying Hiroki. If he got too animated, the psychopath might start deriving enjoyment from it. And that would seal his fate.
Souji's voice was strained with pain and exhaustion as he spoke into the phone -- his fear coming through despite himself, "Yosuke, please...please, listen -- it's..." He trailed off, confused -- why couldn't he remember his attackers name? Had the blood loss really made his memory that fuzzy? "It's the snake, Yosuke. He has me. You need to call Dojima. His cell is 843-4829. Hurry, please..."
Why the hell wasn't The Snake stopping him?
"He has a knife -- he's cut me up pretty bad. I'm at home. D-don't do anything stupid, Yosuke," he breathed at the sound of his friend getting hyped up with worry and anger on the other line, "Don't you fucking dare, alright?" He found himself getting more emotional than he had in this entire ordeal. When it had been just him, it was easier to say that he would get through it and accept that if he died after The Snake's arrest, then that was just a sacrifice that had to be made. But the sound of his best friend's voice made him realize what he'd be leaving behind, if it came to that.
Yosuke began to respond, but it cut out almost instantly. Fuck, Souji thought, squeezing his eyes shut in overwhelming frustration. Why hadn't he thought to charge his phone?
---
Yosuke didn't understand half of Souji's instructions, but knew enough to scribble Dojima's number. He was a cop, he'd know what to do. As Yosuke dialed, it finally hit him that Souji was in real trouble, which made his call to Dojima so frantic he had to repeat himself several times. He'd been told to stay put, but...
Yosuke pushed the questionable thoughts about his friend away and went to find a good, heavy pair of his kunai.
---
The cops would apparently be coming, from what Hiroki could hear by menacingly looming over his downed victim... yet he could only scoff in amusement, that smile still crookedly plastered on his face as he waited for the phone to die. He heard it- the brief crack of the line cutting off as the battery expired, and that was when he callously tossed it aside before violently slamming his boot into the boy's ribs- when he heard something shatter and snap, that was when he stopped, calmly kneeling down and staring Souji in the eye.
The serpent on the mask possessed such a twisted grin at all times... such a violent, malignant look in the way that its eyes and jaws curved so sharply. It appeared to be merrily cackling, and the man underneath it felt similar emotions as he realized that he could probably torture this kid as long as he wanted. What first? What to expose and humiliate for him first? ...An idea came to mind, Hiroki noting the name that he had memorized on the phone.
"Yosuke Hanamura... is he a friend of yours, Souji? I think I know where he lives. Fuck, wouldn't that suck if somebody just randomly shot him in his own home? Such a tragedy... those drive-by shootings, you know."
There was fear. Fear, anger, and hatred, and Hiroki could read it all. He'd done this many times before- a hateful vengeance against a killer was obviously going to be prevalent in a majority of cases. Those who wished for death often had Hiroki cutting their tongue out, pricking off their fingers, and leaving them mutilated with no means to kill themselves in the first place. Those who tried to brace against it and fight... those were the people who would be slaughtered. He loved the hypocrisy of it all.
He adored how people worshiped him and begged him to kill them, only for their rage to return when he simply dangled the tempting treat in front of them. Similarly, these people who were about to face the reaper hated the idea of it. Death. Death revealed amazing things about people- facades and ideas that they had put up were shattered away at the thought of their termination. He had seen so many sides of people, so many different ways of dealing with an attack- but never did their view of death change.
It made him want to kill all of the stupid little fuckers. Damn pieces of shit, writhing like idiots, never able to face the truth even in the end! Perhaps that's why he liked the idea of these people on the television being slated for death- he wanted to see what would happen if the mindless rabble of sheep outside realized that appearing on a show for so much as a second could lead to their horrific demise.
People wouldn't change. They never would. So he'd just go on his merry way by thinning out their numbers and contributing to the inevitable extinction of mankind. There was no point in life if all one did was fear the end of it. So he'd just pluck the lives from those who didn't need them- which, in his skewed perspective, was everybody who didn't prove to be a useful little pawn or bait.
Yet never before had Apophis tried to intervene so much, demanding that he kill the boy now before authorities arrived to arrest the crazed maniac. And yet Hiroki continued to dismiss the voice that he usually listened to. This boy was fun. He would love watching him die. It was already hilarious seeing his reactions to such simplistic torture methods. But, then again... the kid did just tell his precious little friend about what Hiroki was doing. The struck beast was crying out for assistance, or at least some way to distract the predator slowly strangling it.
Yet... what the hell had the idiot been staring up at a good majority of this time? He followed the boy's eyes, and saw nothing but a shitty ceiling. ...Dumbass must've gone crazy already. Ah, well. Once he started losing his sense of fun, he'd slash his throat and move on to the Detective Prince.
"He can see me, Miyamora. This one has been cursed with the vision of the unknown. One should not be spared if he witnesses the spirits of the dead and the wicked. Finish him off. Kill him."
Apparently, speaking to nobody, Hiroki snapped back rather loudly, practically spitting at the snake's idea.
"The hell are you talking about, Apophis? Like shit. ...Whatever. You want it, you get it."
That was when the sound of millions of panes of shattered glass exploded in the room- yet nothing had broken. That dark, indistinct shadow over Hiroki slowly distorted and extremely bloated- the ethereal creature was apparently so ridiculously huge that, if it had been solid, it probably would have destroyed the house just by appearing in the first place.
Hiroki simply held Souji down, glaring in amusement, staring down like an overbearing monster.
Slowly, horrifically, the snake revealed itself to be absolutely leviathanesque, those dead, yellow eyes looking at nothing as its stone-grey head loomed directly behind Hiroki.
...And then its jaws slowly snapped open, revealing torn cheek membranes barely holding its mouth together, and rows upon rows of jagged, gory teeth. A black tongue lolled out, and some acidic green substance dripped in torrents.
Apparently, this venom had no effect on its host. However, when Hiroki cheerfully slammed his finger on a venom-coated sleeve, he was quite pleased to hear the acidic sizzle as he pressed his finger on Souji's forehead.
"...Meet Apophis. He's Death, I'm Death. How do you like that, kid? ...Don't tell me you're scared of snakes."
---
The echo of bones cracking within his chest made bile shoot up his throat. It was all Souji could do to swallow it back down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard it was bleeding. Not that he noticed the excess blood -- all he had been tasting for the past forty five minutes was blood. Although the unpleasant addition of his own stomach acid did not add any welcome variety.
"Yosuke Hanamura... is he a friend of yours, Souji? I think I know where he lives. Fuck, wouldn't that suck if somebody just randomly shot him in his own home? Such a tragedy... those drive-by shootings, you know."
Souji wanted him dead. He wanted to watch him die. He wanted to be the one to do it.
But not before killing himself over his own stupidity. Even if The Snake already had known Yosuke's name, there was a chance he hadn't. And out of the stupidity that massive hemorrhaging awarded him, he'd given this psychopathic Snake the name of his best friend. His stomach was twisting and he found tears forming in his eyes. Christ, not now. He couldn't let him win now -- not after he'd come so far. Yosuke would be fine, he told himself hazily. All of his friends would be fine. He'd be there to protect them.
In a brief moment of childishness, however, Souji quietly wished that there was someone there to protect him.
Swallowing more of his own blood, he banished the thought rapidly. He didn't need anyone to keep him alive. He could do that easily enough on his own. In the hours he'd spent prior to this, pondering his role in the murders as the Wild Card, Souji had come to a few possible conclusions. He was not immortal, no, but he would have to stay alive until the end of this. Everyone had a purpose, and this was his. He would make it until the end.
However...
Souji had come to another conclusion. When one's purpose has been fulfilled, one could keep on living, but there was no true use for you in the grand scheme of things any longer. The ashen haired boy had waxed on the notion that he would have to live until the end in order to die when the time came. A sacrifice, of sorts. After all, when he'd been chosen, he'd had no real ties to anyone. His parents were distant, he was moving to a new town...he was an ideal candidate for sacrifice. Souji had accepted that for a long time, expecting Death.
And thus, he did not fear it.
But that had changed, if only slightly. Souji had ties -- bonds that protected him. Even now, he could hear their voices swimming through his head, faint though they were. He did not fear his own death, no. After expecting it for so long, one grew to see the beast in a new light. What he could not accept, however, was dying before it was time. Dying before his friends and family got the insurance of life he so desperately desired for them.
Souji was blasted out of his reverie with a shout from his captor. Oh, Souji thought in some sort of odd, half-conscious amusement, the snakes were talking. But that's when things changed. Twisting and contorting, his vision suddenly became more solid. It still passed through objects like butter, betraying it's lack of mass, but to his bruised eyes alone -- this monster was real.
Souji truly did want to scream now. He bit his cheek harder, staring up at the two hideous beasts looking down at him. 'Apophis', he thought numbly, rolling the name around his mind. He knew it -- he'd seen it once before, in World History. Ms. Sofue had dedicated a whole class to the feuds of the ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses. This was Ra's serpent of death, who perused the sun God unrelentingly each night for eternity. This was his enemy.
Souji lost the battle against his body, his head lolling to the side before he vomited the entire contents of his stomach onto the ground. It mixed with his blood, turning everything a sickly red color. Souji dry heaved, though there being nothing more to expunge from his body. Despite the unpleasant and unwelcome sight of his blood and vomit mingling on his kitchen floor, it was better than the sight of a Death God and the host it clung to like a parasite staring down at him with murder in their eyes.
---
Apophis's sudden revelation and appearance into the tangible world seemed to be enough to drive the kid off the edge at last. To stare death in the eyes was the final numbing sensation that caused the heart to at last freeze in its final desperate throes- the reaper's frigid, frozen smile, ever locked into that cheshire face, was always enough to finally pull one away from any hope of opening their eyes once again.
Hiroki had learned long ago that there was no beautiful light at the end of the tunnel. Death was an absolute end- there was nothing after it. When humans died, they were gone forever. That was the end of it. And the more humans he killed... the more roots of the great tree of life would be cut off and stunted, the hydra's burnt neck unable to split off into any more appendages.
He was the Hercules to the hydra. Hiroki would be the one to bring his torch and slowly but surely cut off every option of regeneration humanity had- they would all be dead, and he would be happy. Nobody deserved to live. Those who were kindred spirits may have been a sole exception, but Hiroki, in his hypocrisy, tried to disregard them from his mantra of watching the world burn. Wait. Was the kid about to pass out? That wouldn't do. They wouldn't do at all.
"Oh no you don't, you little piece of shit."
Violently and rather brutally, Hiroki threw away all sadistic grace he may have had before, roughly grabbing the teenager by the neck, twisting his head so he was forced to stare into the eyes of his captor and the apocalyptic serpent behind him, breathing down his neck. It was amazing- such a ragged and cruel move was performed so swiftly that he might as well have broken the boy's neck in a split second with a swift crack.
Grin contorting into the most sadistic expression imaginable, Hiroki knew he didn't hear that snap. His victim was still conscious, at the mercy of his whim and pleasure. And yet Hiroki knew, glancing briefly and noting the cesspool of filth and blood around them, that there wasn't that much time yet before this brat finally kicked the bucket.
He would have to be creative with his methods and his time- no. Pushing this kid's pathetic little body even further would only risk that he would black out and die mercifully. He wanted the boy to die with his eyes wide open, mind still tortured with horrific ideas and images dancing in his brain, forever scarring him until the flame of life was expelled by a breeze. Yes. He would detail everything for him...
For once, Apophis's bellows were audible to those other than Hiroki, the malignant hiss so deep in pitch and tone that every syllable seemed like a thunderous quake.
"Elaborate for him, Miyamora. You're creative... tear his rationality into sunders. Erase his courage. I can smell his resolve dying... do it."
Yes. He would do it. He would make this boy cry for death.
"Such a shame... after you're gone, who knows what'll happen? It'd be such a shame if that Yosuke boy was found on the side of a road. Oh, how horrified they would be. Hit by a car, and then thrown into a lake... dragged out while still alive, and forced to feel the clamps of jumper cables slamming into his skin before the final spark ended it all. How tragic."
Yes. Yes. This was how every murder should have gone! Never before had Hiroki Miyamora been so entertained in his twisted games...!
"Chie Satonaka would look fine with a fragmented head, too, wouldn't you agree? Point-blank shotgun blasts are so colorful. Ah, the pink brains, the white skull... the splatters of red blood. Every shot is a work of art, I say."
It was amazing how eloquently and calmly he was letting these violent, disgusting thoughts out, making sure to assault his prey with as much mental imagery as possible before going in for the kill, his knife already at the ready.
"And I'm sure Yukiko Amagi isn't quite as fireproof here as she is in the television, hmm? I'll let Apophis test that out. Let's tie her to a stake and burn her like a witch, why don't we?"
A brief plume of super-heated smoke emerged from Apophis's jaws as the creature apparently snorted- whether in amusement or disgust was impossible to tell.
"I'm certain that Rise Kujikawa is rather... vulnerable. Perhaps I'll leave her to my friend while I hunt down Kanji Tatsumi with a rifle. After all, if you can't simply go up to an animal and throttle it, you should wound it first. Wait until it falls, and then drag its head back as a prize."
His heart was pounding in absolute excitement, his crazed eyes narrowing as the mask now amplified the look of predatory fury on his face. Every smoothly-narrated monologue detailing all of their deaths... he loved it. He loved it! And the expressions dancing on his victim's face were priceless, a cornucopia of entertainment and amusement for the sadistic monster.
"The Detective Prince, meanwhile...? Ahhh, I'm sure while your friends are vomiting at the sight of your mangled corpse, I can sneak into the TV and cut the little bastard's neck before his Shadow can so much as blink at him. Wouldn't you love that, Souji Seta? Wouldn't you love knowing that you had failed...? Leaving his pitiful little corpse to rot inside there, thrown out in the foggy weather, left hanging on a telephone wire after being dead for several days? That cousin of yours... I must admit, I have a friend nearby who will certainly 'take care' of her... and your uncle can be dispatched quickly. One clean shot to the cranium, I'd say."
Everything was filtered out. This was the moment. This was the exact second in time that he had been waiting for, though he spared the boy for ten minutes, letting him wade in the thoughts that Hiroki had forcefully implanted his head, all while Apophis's corrosive venom dripped down in showers. If the boy didn't bleed to death, which Hiroki doubted, perhaps Apophis's venom could just boil right through his skin, through his organs, and pool on the floor underneath him.
And then the moment came. Grip tightening around that faithful pocket knife, Hiroki planning on aiming straight for the boy's left eye, he slowly lifted the weapon, taking in the macabre elation this brought to him.
"...Goodbye, Souji Seta."
---
Souji's mind was gone, lost in the reflection of light off his own blood. He could feel the pain ceasing -- slowly but surely -- as his vision turned fuzzy. This was better, Souji found himself thinking irrationally. This didn't hurt like being awake had. Like thinking had. His eyes were closing against his will. Something told him that, yes, this was it, as he wordlessly took one last look at the world that had been his home for the past sixteen years...
And, had it not been for the jerk of The Snake's calloused hand, it would have.
The whip of his head lolling around on his neck made him wince loudly, his eyes burning with tears. The pain was back, everywhere, with such intensity that he felt like doing what Hiroki had assured him he would. Part of him screamed to just have him end it. Or to end it himself. Anything to stop the pain radiating throughout his entire body. Anything to erase the twisted grin of The Snake from his mind. Anything to mute the sound of Apophis's low hiss forever. He just wanted all of it to end.
He felt the fingers close tighter around his throat, allowing only the slightest scrap of air through to his abused lungs, before loosening once again. His eyes were half lidded and clouded almost beyond recognition as he watched The Snake's mouth begin to move.
It was once the words of his captor left his throat that Souji finally began paying attention. The words faded in and out, but each one was so loaded with sadistic glee that the message was communicated easily.
"Such a shame...that Yosuke boy...hit by a car, and then thrown into a...forced to feel the clamps of jumper cables...slamming into his skin before the final spark...tragic."
Souji's stomach seized up, contorting painfully as images flooded his mind.
"Chie...fragmented head, too...int-blank shotgun blasts are so colorful...brains, the white...splatters of red blood...a work of art."
His heart was racing faster now as he moved his arms feebly, trying futilely to make him stop his venomous litany of death.
"...Yukiko...fireproof here as...the television...Apophis...burn her like a witch..."
He felt bile coming up his throat once again, burning his esophagus and making it impossible for him to speak or even cry.
"...certain that Rise... vulnerable...leave her to my friend...hunt down Kanji...an animal and throttle...wound it first...falls...drag...a prize."
The "victory" he'd claimed over forcing himself not to scream seemed so pathetic now that there was nothing to stop. In fact, he found himself desperate to scream. To make some sort of noise that would drown out the sound of The Snake's flowery descriptions.
"...Detective...your friends...vomiting...your mangled corpse...TV and cut the little bastard's...so much as blink at him...Wouldn't you love that, Souji Seta?...you had failed...pitiful little corpse to rot...hanging on a telephone wire...dead for several days...cousin of yours...I have a friend nearby...'take care' of her...uncle...one clean shot to the cranium..."
Something changed inside him. At the mention of his friends as one entity, something began to fill him. It wasn't a pent up scream or a cry -- it couldn't even be described as a noise. In that instant, it was as if he felt pressure on all sides. But it wasn't a cold, lifeless pressure (like that of The Snake's long fingers wrapped around his neck), it was warm. At first he thought he was dying. The Snake's voice was coming in clearer now. It was as if the friendly pressure -- that felt so familiar, comfortable and nostalgic all at once -- was dulling the pain -- allowing him to filter away all distractions. His eyes hardened, some of their brightness back. Whether this feeling was rage, or the subconscious presence of his friends, he didn't know. All he did knew was that he wasn't alone.
For a boy who'd spent most of his life alone...dying with at least the figurative presence of people he loved wasn't the worst thing in the world, was it?
"...Goodbye, Souji Seta."
He smiled so slightly that it was almost imperceptible. Relaxing his shoulders, he watched the knife rise above The Snake's head with an oddly tranquil calm. He was numb all over now, that warm pressure blocking out all the pain.
He probably wouldn't even feel it.
---
He was having a generous dinner offered by his in-laws, along with Nanako. While he wasn't entirely enjoying the visit, he couldn't help but to try and make the most out of it. His daughter wasn't complaining (what with so many people in the house compared with back in Inaba), he just smiled and bared with it as he watched Nanako dance around the wide living room.
Then his cell rang. Jeez, can't this police detective get any time off? He looked at the number displayed on the screen. Wasn't familiar. Prank call? Muttering, he apologized to his relatives, excusing himself as he headed for the veranda, picking up the call at last. From the voice, Ryotaro could easily tell that it was Souji's good friend and classmate, Hanamura? Yo... something. The teenager on the other side of the line was speaking in a hurried and panicked tone.
"Calm down, Hanamura. What is it?" Ryotaro said, trying desperately to calm himself down in the process. Hanamura repeatedly told him that something had happened...and he wasn't getting the general idea of it being a good one.
Leaving his parents-in-law's house in a rush, Nanako with them, he practically jumped into his jeep and rushed back to Inaba, a hand nervously fidgeting the holstered gun he had. Something about his nephew being in trouble? in deep trouble.
He silently hoped that he could make it.
Dear gods, he had to.
The last time he had been in such a panicked state was when Chisato was in trouble. A call from the hospital. And back then, he thought that if he became better at his job, he would be able to prevent unfortunate occurrences from happening again. Fate playing a game on him? Just how many times more?
Screw the traffic rules, he thought urgently, making a call to his crap of a partner. If it was a big case, he might need some help after all. Still flooring the pedal, he flipped open his cellphone, looking for Adachi's number, and was already calling a moment later, conveying what Hanamura did when he was still with Nanako.
When he reached his residence, however, he was in for a shock.
Broken glass was marring the grounds, even out to the streets. The bottom floor looked unaffected, but there was something...something unexplainable, unspeakable...some sort of aura that was enveloping his house. That was it. He didn't give a shit about having backups or whatever anymore. Without warning, he rushed into the house, heading straight for Souji's room on the second floor.
Gun at the ready, he kicked the door open in a flurry, his weapon aimed at the murderer. "Freeze!" was the only word he could manage as his eyes went briefly to his nephew...his poor, poor nephew that he had taken a liking to as much as Nanako was to him. Holding his breath, he turned his attention back to the raven-haired man, his face contorting into an anger unexplained by words.
The man was masked, and from what little he could tell from his berserked mind, his eyes betrayed his insanity, something that told of a psychopath that was taking enjoyment out of others' pain. Which was what he was doing right now...if the murderer was intent on killing Souji, his nephew would be dead already. The drive from his in-laws' wasn't close...or was it because he was flooring it?
The sight of swinging lights, broken windows, the grounds tainted red helped him pull the trigger for him. The man needed to be dead. RIGHT NOW.
---
Adachi hung up, frowning. Something'd happened to Souji-kun... That rotten little twerp.
It'd just be so easy to let something happen to him...
But that wouldn't be any fun, huh? If an accident befell Souji, rather than an "accident". The boy was meddling in his game, but Adachi would rather disqualify the impudent toddler himself for not playing by his rules.
Sighing, he mustered up the ghost of a smile. He had nothing better to do anyways. Might as well "help out" Dojima-san.
He leisurely took his time jogging over to the Dojima residence, just in time to see Dojima-san make his way out of the car and rush into his home half-cocked and full of vinegar and piss.
"Well, well," Adachi smiled to himself. "Looks like our hero's a victim now."
He could smell it, though: the scent of a Persona-user. It wasn't Souji. It was something... indiscriminately malevolent.
There was no vehicle nearby that didn't already belong in the neighbourhood. Unlikely to live nearby. Whoever it was that had broken in, and violated this sweet safe secure sanctuary for the superb Souji, had come by on foot. He knew where Souji lived, and either knew that he'd be home alone, or wouldn't have given a damn either way if Dojima-san hadn't left with Nanako. Probably both.
This person either didn't care if they were caught as well, or knew he was good enough to get away with it.
The stakes were raised in this game now. A new player had entered, and upped the ante.
Well, well. Let's cut the cards and see what we draw.
Adachi, taking a brief moment to 'compose' himself, rushed after his partner, frantically breathing. "Dojima-san, wait!"
---
After hanging up with Doujima-san and picking out his most weighted kunai, Yosuke ignored his mother's questions and left, heading for the Doujima house as fast as his old ass bike would go. There probably wasn't much he could do, but he couldn't just sit at home and do nothing. His best friend and leader was in deep trouble, and sitting on his ass would just make the anxiety so much worse.
When Yosuke arrived at the Doujima house after a few minutes of hard pedaling, he was relieved to see the car in its usual place. That meant Doujima-san had beat him there, which made him relax a tiny bit. Still, he was eager to get inside and make sure everything was okay. There was no one else around, just Souji, whoever was attempting to kill him, Doujima-san, and himself. So Yosuke rushed into the house and started looking for Doujima-san hurriedly, not even bothering to take in the state the house was in.
---
"Freeze!"
And that was when his wonderful little world came crashing down on him, Hiroki's eyes instinctively narrowing, feeling what cold carcass of a heart he had left skipping a beat before smirking in amusement. That bullet was destined for his skull. It would be so sweetly situated between his eyes and nestled straight into his brain, right? This was the end of the road. This was where he was going to die horribly, his agenda never fulfilled. Oh, how sad! How terrible to be cut down in his murderous prime, that leviathan of a man only giving Dojima the most twisted smile he could.
He was smart enough not to speak. So much as a voice or a hint would be a pretty fucking stupid thing to do, and Takeshi would chide him for it- after all, Hiroki's crime had been essentially perfect. The only evidence was Souji's blood, and if there were fingerprints, the only traces were buried in Souji's neck and on the knife that Hiroki had in his possession. He doubted they'd be fingerprinting this piece of shit while he bled out in his own residence. Hilarious.
The bullet was coming- straight for his eye, eager to crack through one simple organ and bury itself in the next solid thing that it ran into. Hiroki was going to die.
...Not really.
Apophis may have been completely invisible to them, his maw gaping open as his head turned to stare at this new intruder, but his aura was not. Rejected, the bullet was virtually snapped in half, sent instead flying completely backwards, narrowly avoiding catching the person who fired it. Clink. Right in the wall. Nothing in nature could send a bullet backwards that way- absolutely nothing. Hiroki had gone from a psychopath to a demonic monster, and he didn't give a care.
That abyssal, black gem shimmering, Ophiuchus etched and scratched in its center, Hiroki simply nodded and cheerfully waved, looking at the window outside- and, with no hesitation or care that he was jumping from a second-story window, he lunged out, fall easily broken before escaping into the pitch-black night in equally pitch-black clothes.
He'd be fine. These idiotic cops would be shell-shocked, stunned and scrambling to get Souji help- and Hiroki would be far, far away from here by then, with no trail to leave behind. Sprinting, listening to metal-lined boots violently slamming into the pavement, he just kept running.
After all, he had a rendezvous point to get to- and a car to hop into.
"You didn't kill him, you useless bag of flesh!"
Cheerfully laughing out loud, Hiroki yawned after slowing his pace, knowing that the house was nowhere to be seen and that he was probably far ahead of any officers at this point.
"Nah. But he'll probably die from all the shit I did to him, anyway. If he does live, well, hey. He'll be scared. He'll be terrified. The next time we meet, he'll be begging for death. I can assure you of that, Apophis."
---
He expected the bullet to be planting into the murderer's skull, not snapping in half and flying in his direction. It was either pure luck that he was still standing, or the crazy psychopath...monster, even...was finding it enjoyable to harvest the fear that was evident on his own face.
Then the monster practically flew out of the window before he could respond.
Deftly holstering his handgun, he rushed to Souji's side, kneeling and picking him up by his arms. "Hang in there Souji, uncle Doujima will get you to help right away," he breathed hurriedly, holding him close as he rushed down the stairs, past Adachi and someone else that he couldn't make out from his blurred eyes, into his vehicle, buckling in a hurried motion. Ryotaro didn't bother informing them; their next destination was clear enough, what with the trail of blood he left behind and on his own clothing.
Nonetheless, he waited for the two to get on the car, as well. Then he just floored it, as urgent as he came.
---
Everything was happening way too fast for Yosuke to process, and he had been acting on instinct until they were in the car and had practically drifted down two streets. That was when it finally sunk in that he was in Doujima's car - clinging the handle above the door for dear life - and oh, God, Souji. He looked terrible and like he might die at any moment.
---
Souji heard a voice.
Then a bang.
Then a crash, much like the crash that had started this whole nightmare. Did that mean it was over? Or maybe the knife had plowed through his eye already and this was his brain's final joke before it would short out and die, along with the rest of him.
He'd certainly expected death to be less colorful than this, though. Red seemed to be everywhere. Two red ties, reddish hair, and of course, himself -- he was oozing that red at a disturbing rate.
Suddenly, he felt air rush by -- he was being moved somewhere, but the warmth of a touch hardly penetrated the chill that gripped him like a vice. The air stopped as he was laid in the backseat of a...car? Maybe he was in the Velvet Room. Maybe that's where you went when you died.
He tried to focus his gaze, his eyes landing on another pair -- wide, brown and familiar. They looked like they were crying, but Souji couldn't hear anything.
But the bloodied teen didn't have much time to muse on the owner of those sad eyes. His head lolling to the side, he coughed violently, blood spewing out of his throat and splattering across the back of the driver and passenger seats, not to mention over the hands of the boy sitting next to him.
More red, Souji smiled absently, before promptly passing out.
---
Adachi tried to smile, despite the situation. As in, giving a different sort of the smile than he truly wished to on the inside.
Would the game end, though, if Souji died? Or would all those other brats simply take up arms, gaining stronger resolve to avenge him?
Namatame was so useful in his present capacity, but if people he threw in started dying, he would obviously stop. And the game would end if they couldn't be saved. Adachi really didn't want to resort to doing it himself, not yet, it was too early, it wasn't right of him to step from director and stage manager to lead actor.
So, for now, Souji had to live.
For his entertainment, if nothing else.
"...so, how's Junes, Yosuke-san?" Adachi murmured quietly and awkwardly, breaking the silent tension of the car.
---
Yosuke looked at Adachi in absolute horror. Souji was on the verge of death in the backseat and he was asking about fucking Junes?! "G-good?" he stuttered anyway, not sure what else to do in this situation. Stupid coffee lackey wasn't helping!
---
He wasn't listening to the retarded conversation between the passengers in the vehicle.
Finally in sight. Calm down, Ryotaro, you don't want your mind in shambles when you need it to think at the most critical time. Swerve into the emergency department, and it was with sheer luck that there was an empty parking lot.
Did he look like he just emerged from hell? Because the bright lights in the hospital was a blinding contrast to the red he and his nephew were in. Numerous people were there at an instant, carrying Souji off for immediate treatment just as a few came to ask if the detective was unhurt.
He just stared at where Souji last disappeared into, absently sitting down at one of the available chairs, elbow on his legs as his arms supported his head. The only thing he could do was pray.
---
Adachi sat down beside Dojima. He gave the older man a squeeze on the shoulder.
---
Yosuke was completely numb as he sat with Doujima and Adachi. The whole situation was so unreal. Sure, he'd seen Souji pretty beat up in the TV, but never like this and never in their world. It made him feel... dirty, like someone or something had crossed a line.
"D-Doujima-san?" he asked, his voice small and unusually high. "I-is he gonna be okay?"
---
"Do you think I know the goddamn answer?" he was practically shouting, not really caring whether it was the frickin' hospital or not. When Souji didn't appear after long moments of staring at the curtains, he lowered his head with his fingers raking to the back of his skull, stress clearly showing. There was blood, so much blood that he found himself mumbling 'why couldn't it be mine?' feverishly, as if he would break apart if he stopped to contemplate on the severity of the situation.
And despite how horrendous a partner Adachi had been, he couldn't help but feel comforted at the other man's presence, even if it was for moral support. At least the detective won't fall apart.
Just yet.
---
"Hey, you know, how about I get us some drinks to calm us down, Dojima-san?"
Adachi sprung to his feet and trotted over to the vending machine. Grabbing three drinks, he took a detour, heading the long way around to sneak a peek into the ER.
In retrospect, Souji had no reason to be nervous. Because in that moment of opening the door to his home, there was nothing to be nervous about.
The day had been a long one. Dojima-san and Nanako had left early that morning for the city on an overnight trip to visit with Nanako's maternal grandparents. Dojima had offered to let him come along but Souji had declined and his Uncle had only nodded, understanding. The idea of sitting in a room with four other people whose very presence reminded the others of what they had lost wasn't very appealing to the sixteen year old. It didn't appear to be appealing to Dojima either but familial obligation had won out in the end, like it often did, and the older man had said goodbye the night before with a reminder to study and lock the windows and doors when he went out.
Souji had nodded from where he sat, pouring over notes at his desk. He hadn't even given the reminders a second thought, too busy cramming for his last and most difficult final -- World History. Any thing that didn't involve dates or prominent historical figures was to be disregarded for the time being. He had a test to ace, after all.
If only he had paid more attention...
Friday ended with the sound of students throughout the school either crying for joy or just flat out crying. Souji was too tired to do either. His mere four hours of sleep the night before had miraculously gotten him through the test -- but that was it. In a haze of exhaustion, he waved off Yosuke and Chie's pleading requests to go to Junes and compare answers, heading straight for home. He actually felt lucky to have the house to himself -- blessed, even, to be granted the oh-so-vital gift of peace and quiet.
Yawning, he pushed open the door and stretched, wondering if Dojima would mind if he turned up the air conditioner a little while they were away.
Nothing to be nervous about at all.
---
The cop wasn't here. The little girl wasn't here... perfect. One may question why a psychopath would bother waiting for his prey to be alone, but Hiroki'd rather not be seen- and killing such small children was a pain... it was amazing what things they could sneak themselves under, like terrified little kittens. That, and they seemed to be particularly loud in the dying throes. This residential district was disgustingly overcrowded- he'd have to be quiet.
"If you want it to be quiet, Miyamora, claw his throat out. Rip, tear, and shred until the only thing emerging from his mouth is blood."
...Dumbass Apophis. He didn't need to claw the kid's throat out. That's what the knife was for. This was going to be far easier than he had hoped, though. The minute he met that kid back in June, Apophis screamed for him to kill him. There was no questioning- this Souji Seta boy had to die. And now, he had slipped Hiroki's intentions to somebody else. That... that just wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all.
Squealing pigs had to be silenced, Hiroki decided, and it would be wise to strike while there were no sentries. If it took the police so long to find his decaying, disassembled corpse thrown around the house, hey, it was no skin off of his bones. Did he feel bad about the fact that he would be potentially exposing a first-grader to the horror of seeing a murdered, destroyed body?
Nope.
And, after once again revealing his wonderful feelings and outlook towards humanity with his own mental inquiries, the man prepared for the murder. He had worn his usual clothes- it's not like the dead could testify against him to the police- while adorning only one thing differently.
He'd rather not have that Souji kid see his face. It added such an interesting dynamic to see if the teenager could vaguely remember his voice and his figure- his hair, even, since the mask only covered the front half of his head. He was going to have fun with this if he was going to get covered in blood and gore, damnit. Ever so calmly and meticulously, the man watched, patiently assuring that there was nobody out on the street at such a dark time in the night, before slamming the mask on his face.
White and pearly, the visage was rather smoothed, a gold lining surrounding its edges as the 'face' formed into that eerily similar to some sort of snake. A black gem could be found slammed in the middle, directly in the forehead, while Hiroki's mouth could still be seen via the mask's gaping jaws, his eyes still easily visible.
He had brought along a nice array of things in case they were needed, or if he felt like it... but for now, assuring that he could easily scale the fence that the Dojimas had built around their house, he glared at a first-floor window.
"Bring out his natural instinct, boy. The human mind is most afraid of seeing a giant, unknown predator coming straight at it. I believe it would... entertain you."
He quite liked that idea- and so, rather violently, Hiroki Miyamora barreled in, shattering the opening quite easily and jumping in, ignoring the slight sting of glass splinters reaching his exposed hands.
It probably took less than a second for Hiroki to completely scan the first floor, never letting the leader of the Investigation Team analyze what was going on before finding an opportunity to slam into him, taking careful caution in making sure that his pinned prey was on his back- looking right at him.
This pig... this pig had better squeal, Hiroki thought, only looking all the more manic with his black hair almost framing the mask.
"Hello, kid."
---
He'd seen him coming. Just for a flash, for a moment, he could see the masked figure barreling down on him, looking more animal than human.
Souji quietly wished he hadn't.
The man was tall, with large paw-like hands that held him to the floor with such vigor that his long nails cut into Souji's skin. Tanned, with wild dark hair, the man gave off an oppressive aura that nearly choked the teenager. His eyes were the most troubling, however, as they were the most familiar. They gleamed with the same sort of unearthly light that the eyes of Shadows possessed in the other world. If he didn't know it was impossible, he would've believed that his assailant was a Shadow, there to exact some sort of revenge.
'Hello, kid.'
Souji found himself shaking at the almost amused timber of the man's voice. Perhaps he had been shaking since he'd first been so easily brought down, he couldn't remember. His head throbbed so badly that it was hard to think clearly at all?
Then it hit him
'A great serpent will rise from the fog'
Just as Igor's warning echoed within his mind, the air above his attacker's head started to twist and change. He feared hallucination at first -- after all, his head felt as if it had been split open -- but the vision was too real to have been created by his mind. It was gigantic, its form coiled around his home while its head rose up over the man who had pinned him down. The snake's tongue whipped in and out of his mouth, smelling him hungrily. It seemed almost as if it whispered something into the man?s ear, urging him forward with cold, dead eyes. This man was its host. And it wasn't the first time they had met, either. He'd felt this distinct chill in the air only once before -- while shaking the hand of a man he thought to be his ally.
He felt like screaming, but he knew that there was no way anyone would hear him. The man had put all his weight on Souji's chest, restricting his air considerably. Besides, he was too smart to act while anyone would have been in hearing range. He was completely alone.
His voice thin from insufficient air, he breathed out a single name, "...H-Hiroki."
---
Wow. Was the kid really that much of a pussy? Apparently, his head slamming into the wall had stunned him... damn. And Hiroki wanted him to be wide awake for this, too. Ah, well. Beggars can't be choosers. Briefly thinking about the situation, he knew that he had the absolute upper hand- there was nothing. Absolutely nothing could stop him. He was going to kill the idiot now, and he was going to have a party doing it.
After hearing that hoarsely gasped name, the man's brow furrowed slightly, though he quite enjoyed this mask- if the only thing Souji could read were the slight flashes in his eyes and his mouth, it would probably just terrify the boy even more. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Cut his throat, Hiroki. Slash it wide open. Do it."[/i]
The ghostly whisper was completely ignored, the dead look in Apophis's eyes hiding the reality of how irritated the monster really was when Hiroki decided to go solo on his torture methods. There was nobody here. He could have as much fun as he wanted as long as this damn kid stayed awake, he decided, mockingly sitting on the teenager, assuring that he didn't have enough air to comfortably breathe- but enough air to at least stay conscious.
Cheerfully sitting on his quarry and crossing one leg over the other after deciding that his victim wouldn't be able to move for a while after such an impact to the head, Hiroki almost cheerfully whistled, rapping a finger on his chin as if in deep thought, though the only sound that emerged was the maddening monotony of his nail hitting cold, hard metal.
And then he pulled the pocket knife out of his jacket, casually dangling it in Souji's face before snapping it open. "You really need to smile more, kid. I can help you with that." Savoring every moment and lowering the knife mockingly, he contemplated simply slashing his cheeks open right now.
CRASH!
The sound of a stray feline desperately scrabbling about for food outside caused the man to jolt as it knocked over a trash can while springing from platform to platform- causing Hiroki to 'accidentally' leave two deep slashes in his victim's cheeks, though not cutting completely.
Oh, what a smile. Completely disregarding what degree of pain Souji must have been in, Hiroki wryly grinned, tapping the handle of his knife repetitively on the ash-haired teenager's forehead.
"Oh, do forgive me for that. I got a little startled and couldn't help what I was doing. ...I don't suppose anybody's going to be coming here any time soon, right?"
There was no caution in his voice- only pure venom.
---
He had begun mercifully slipping out of consciousness when the pressure on his chest was relieved somewhat. Sucking in a deep breath, he suddenly felt more awake. But his newfound awareness came with a price. Each part of his body ached anew, while his head throbbed violently. Then the pressure returned again, though not as intensely as before, while his captor settled himself on Souji's chest calmly and coolly. He could still breath. He wouldn't be drifting off to sleep for this.
Hiroki wanted him awake.
The mouth beneath the mask smirked with some sort of perverse glee before he spoke, prompting Souji to close his eyes if only so he wouldn't have to look at it any longer. Still regaining his bearings, Souji only grasped pieces of what he was saying. Something about his smile? His brow furrowed, trying to understand. Hoping to gain some insight from the man's eyes, he opened his own -- only to see his own reflection mirrored in the blade of a knife.
CRASH!
Souji's clouded grey eyes shot open in a flash as he grit his teeth, hissing sharply. He didn't want to give Hiroki the satisfaction of making him scream.
He could feel blood seeping into his mouth from the gashes, the coppery taste overwhelming him with disgust as it pooled in the back of his throat, forcing him to swallow every so often to keep from choking. This and the ceaseless tap-tap-tapping of the knife handle on his forehead made it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything beyond the pain. He felt as if he was going to vomit.
Each word he spoke stung sharply, causing sweat to bead on his forehead while he struggled to answer.
"No. No one's coming. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
---
A complacent smile. Nobody was coming, and Souji was smiling more than he probably had in his whole damn life. Calmly looking around, the man tapped his feet, withdrawing the knife from his prey's forehead as he thoughtfully looked around, questioning if he should try using the environment to his advantage.
Too bad the place was damn childproof. Ugh, he knew this kid had a damn cousin, but surely there was something sharp, right...? Well, shit. That pissed him off, as Hiroki fumbled for a cigarette, smoothly pulling out a lighter before offering his mouth the stick of nicotine.
Taking the utmost care to irritate Souji, he made sure to take a long drag and calmly puff, watching the thin wisps of air rise and disappear throughout the house. Well. They were all alone here, were they? There was nobody to save Souji... this was perfect. Absolutely ideal. He loved it, smoothly revealing what he knew in an almost sing-song fashion.
"Well, shit, your uncle and your little bitch of a cousin are off to see some old folks. Looks like I'm babysitting."
Feigning concern and dignity, Hiroki mockingly gasped.
"Oh, god forbid I smoke in front of the children." And so, after making sure that the cigarette was glowing red hot, he cheerfully ground the butt of it into his pitiful victim's forehead. "You have any fun ideas, kid? Let Hiroki-nii take care of it all, eh?"
The knife was suddenly lifted, the grin turning into the most perverse, sadistic expression imaginable.
"And let's start like this."
The knife was driven down into Souji's leg, never stopping until it hit something extremely solid- and Hiroki repeated this. In his arms, in his legs... hell, he almost wanted to stab him in the neck, but Hiroki knew not to kill him so fast.
"Christ, kid, you're a bleeder."
---
He grit his teeth moreso, his eyes hardening as he continued to look up at the intimidating figure. His hands were clenched tightly out of both rage and pain. How dare this asshole talk about his family -- about Nanako -- in such cruel terms so blithely. Considering how much Hiroki knew, he must have been watching him for days, even weeks, waiting for a moment to do away with him. Hell, for all Souji knew, Hiroki had been planning out his death since the moment they'd met.
But he'd made a mistake.
If anything stirred courage inside the teenager, it was threats against his friends and family -- he wouldn't let this psycho best him. He made a promise to himself then and there that whatever happened after, Souji wouldn't let this bastard kill him. He would be coming out of this alive.
If there was one thing Souji had in spades, it was hope.
Coughing hoarsely at the smoke being blown in his direction, he tried to speak. In the intense distress of his lungs, he could only managed a quiet, "Don't talk abo-," before the sizzling burn of tar and ash pressed deep into his forehead. His mind felt like it was splitting in two. How he was able to think so calmly in the first place was a miracle in and of itself. But still, he hadn't screamed. Hiroki's desire for entertainment was palpable. Otherwise, Souji would?ve been dead thirty minutes ago. Hiroki wanted a scream out of him. He wanted to enjoy this.
Ah, Souji thought distantly, his dry lips parted slightly from exhaustion, so that was his hubris. Boredom.
As long as he didn't scream, Souji realized, he would remain alive. And the longer Hiroki pursued his perverse game, the harder it would be for him to simply end it without any payoff. The ashen-haired youth steeled his resolve, taking short breaths. He could see the knife cutting into his flesh, scraping along his bone, causing blood to splurt forth like some sort of hideous geyser.
His breath was hitched, voice thin with pain, "I don't care what y-you do to me. You won't win."
Souji would not scream. Not for him.
---
Perhaps he had underestimated this brat, if only slightly. Certainly, he didn't really care that the boy had figured out the machinations of a blighted brain. It would take a lot more effort to get his fun, but Hiroki was surprisingly persistent and tenacious if his macabre entertainment was at stake. However... he was a tad bit disheartened at the fact that he didn't seem like much of a screamer. Well, shit. Furrowing his brow under that mask, receding the knife from its new sheath inside the chest of his downed game, Hiroki thought for a mere second about what he could possibly do.
This house did seem rather flammable, he cheerfully pondered, before he acknowledged the torrential slamming of the rain on the roof. It had been raining and the man never noticed? ...Hmmm. Who'd have thought?
"Don't worry, kid. I've already won, but you can live in your little land of denial as long as you please. Death is hard to accept. I know that..."
The 'sagely' advice held no academic tone or reason, the man with the snakelike mask's glittering verdant eyes relishing the silence, hearing nothing but rain and the dripping of blood from his ensanguined knife and the teenager it had been used upon. And then the TV rapidly crackled, apparently receiving a bad signal before focusing into the clear image of a foggy, sickening laboratory. Oh, Hiroki's favorite show was on... and, making sure Souji could watch, he cleaned the knife off while absorbing its implications.
"...Well, kid. Looks like that Detective Prince bastard is the next one I'm going after. Little cocky brat. We'll see how experienced and wonderful he is when I've got a gun."
Some bloody, broken light bulb suddenly went on in Hiroki's mind, the man making himself comfortable by shifting his position slightly on Souji before cheerfully telling his story, never bothering to see if the boy wanted to listen or not.
"You remember that Mitsuo Kubo kid, don't you? I have to admit, thanks to you dipshits, it was a bit hard to get to him... but I got him. I didn't kill him while he was on the TV, of course, but I made up for it killing him afterwards, wouldn't you think?"
"Wretched cur! Do you realize the implications of this? The general does not courteously send over a bird with his war tactics bound to its leg! Idiocy! Absolute foolishness, Miyamora. Silence the whelp now, or you shall learn how scatter-brained it was of you to let loose your strategy!"[/i]
The ranting hissing was calmly filtered out.
"He was a squirmer, all right. Looked like a damn fish. Almost wanted to hang him up like one and skin him, but I had to do with some kerosene, some matches, and a gun. Gotta be creative with what you got..."
And then he was cut off by a distinctive electronic chime in Souji's pocket, Hiroki smirking as he dove into the boy's pocket and ripped out a phone, looking at the screen and noting the name as he opened it, clicked the answer button, and held it to Souji's ear.
"Looks like somebody's calling, kid."
---
"Don't worry, kid. I've already won, but you can live in your little land of denial as long as you please. Death is hard to accept. I know that..."
Souji narrowed his eyes, focusing all his energy on communicating the intense hatred he felt for this man. Who the hell was he to muse on death? Hiroki, a psychopath. No doubt a murderer. He had gone about Souji's own attack with such careful precision and meticulousness -- there was no way that this was his first kill.
No, Souji thought, squeezing his eyes shut again as he tried to ignore the sound of his blood dripping off Hiroki's blade, gathering into reflective pools. This wasn't going to end in a kill. He would find a way out of it, he wouldn't stop believing that. To acknowledge his pain and accept death would mean that Hiroki had won. He couldn't let that happen, no matter how he ended up. These proceedings were bigger than just attempted murder. Hiroki would kill again -- would kill again thousands of times -- if he lost now. Not only his friends and family, but other innocents would fall as well.
It didn't seem fair that he had been the one chosen by the Velvet Room. Not with an enemy like this to overcome. He was only sixteen years old. Smart and strong, yes, but still inexperienced and naive. And they had chosen him? What did he possess that made it possible for him to overcome this?
But despite his doubts, he had to be strong. No one else would die -- including himself. His sense of justice wouldn't allow it. Hiroki would not win.
Souji's head lolled to the side briefly, the exhaustion making it hard to hold it up any longer. He could see his own blood seeping into the carpet -- the stain growing and darkening slowly, but surely. How much longer did he have?
A sudden familiar sound of static filled the air.
Within an instant, Hiroki had gripped Souji's hair, twisting his neck so that he could watch. The pain in his scalp grew with each moment Hiroki held him in this way, but he forced himself to pay attention. After all, he told himself, you'll still have to save this one too when you get out of this.
The slight figure on the screen instantly registered as familiar. Speaking so softly that no real sound passed through his cracked, bloodied lips, Souji murmured the boy's name to himself.
"Naoto?"
Hiroki was off again, gloating smugly about how he would be doing away with the Detective Prince. Souji had expected this, yes, but he didn't anticipate what came next. Mitsuo? All this time, the police had expected the high school student's grisly murder to have been committed by one of the past victims family or friends. As Hiroki continued on, Souji slowly put the pieces together. This man believed that what the killer was doing was right. When the deaths stopped, it must have infuriated him beyond comprehension. So he had appointed himself to fix it. He decided that he'd be the one who would personally guide each of the victims and more to their death.
Souji's eyes widened slightly in fear. If those assumptions were correct, Hiroki must have the ability to enter the TV -- he may even have a persona. As soon as he thought of the word, it hit him. That snake -- the one with the dead eyes?that was Hiroki's persona?
Souji didn't get the chance to think on it any longer. A familiar beeping cut through Hiroki's mad ramblings. His phone?
His eyes widened when he saw Hiroki feel around his pocket, removing the device. Let him destroy it, Souji thought. It wasn't as if he couldn't get another. But that's when Hiroki surprised him for the third time that evening.
Flipping open the phone, he pressed it to Souji's ear, urging him to talk. Souji already knew who it was -- Yosuke always called after an episode of the Midnight Channel. No, no, no, Souji told himself mentally. Don't get your friend involved. Stay calm.
Yosuke had begun speaking by now, but Souji cut him off. He needed to put forward what was happening to him. Calmly, he reminded himself, eying Hiroki. If he got too animated, the psychopath might start deriving enjoyment from it. And that would seal his fate.
Souji's voice was strained with pain and exhaustion as he spoke into the phone -- his fear coming through despite himself, "Yosuke, please...please, listen -- it's..." He trailed off, confused -- why couldn't he remember his attackers name? Had the blood loss really made his memory that fuzzy? "It's the snake, Yosuke. He has me. You need to call Dojima. His cell is 843-4829. Hurry, please..."
Why the hell wasn't The Snake stopping him?
"He has a knife -- he's cut me up pretty bad. I'm at home. D-don't do anything stupid, Yosuke," he breathed at the sound of his friend getting hyped up with worry and anger on the other line, "Don't you fucking dare, alright?" He found himself getting more emotional than he had in this entire ordeal. When it had been just him, it was easier to say that he would get through it and accept that if he died after The Snake's arrest, then that was just a sacrifice that had to be made. But the sound of his best friend's voice made him realize what he'd be leaving behind, if it came to that.
Yosuke began to respond, but it cut out almost instantly. Fuck, Souji thought, squeezing his eyes shut in overwhelming frustration. Why hadn't he thought to charge his phone?
---
Yosuke didn't understand half of Souji's instructions, but knew enough to scribble Dojima's number. He was a cop, he'd know what to do. As Yosuke dialed, it finally hit him that Souji was in real trouble, which made his call to Dojima so frantic he had to repeat himself several times. He'd been told to stay put, but...
Yosuke pushed the questionable thoughts about his friend away and went to find a good, heavy pair of his kunai.
---
The cops would apparently be coming, from what Hiroki could hear by menacingly looming over his downed victim... yet he could only scoff in amusement, that smile still crookedly plastered on his face as he waited for the phone to die. He heard it- the brief crack of the line cutting off as the battery expired, and that was when he callously tossed it aside before violently slamming his boot into the boy's ribs- when he heard something shatter and snap, that was when he stopped, calmly kneeling down and staring Souji in the eye.
The serpent on the mask possessed such a twisted grin at all times... such a violent, malignant look in the way that its eyes and jaws curved so sharply. It appeared to be merrily cackling, and the man underneath it felt similar emotions as he realized that he could probably torture this kid as long as he wanted. What first? What to expose and humiliate for him first? ...An idea came to mind, Hiroki noting the name that he had memorized on the phone.
"Yosuke Hanamura... is he a friend of yours, Souji? I think I know where he lives. Fuck, wouldn't that suck if somebody just randomly shot him in his own home? Such a tragedy... those drive-by shootings, you know."
There was fear. Fear, anger, and hatred, and Hiroki could read it all. He'd done this many times before- a hateful vengeance against a killer was obviously going to be prevalent in a majority of cases. Those who wished for death often had Hiroki cutting their tongue out, pricking off their fingers, and leaving them mutilated with no means to kill themselves in the first place. Those who tried to brace against it and fight... those were the people who would be slaughtered. He loved the hypocrisy of it all.
He adored how people worshiped him and begged him to kill them, only for their rage to return when he simply dangled the tempting treat in front of them. Similarly, these people who were about to face the reaper hated the idea of it. Death. Death revealed amazing things about people- facades and ideas that they had put up were shattered away at the thought of their termination. He had seen so many sides of people, so many different ways of dealing with an attack- but never did their view of death change.
It made him want to kill all of the stupid little fuckers. Damn pieces of shit, writhing like idiots, never able to face the truth even in the end! Perhaps that's why he liked the idea of these people on the television being slated for death- he wanted to see what would happen if the mindless rabble of sheep outside realized that appearing on a show for so much as a second could lead to their horrific demise.
People wouldn't change. They never would. So he'd just go on his merry way by thinning out their numbers and contributing to the inevitable extinction of mankind. There was no point in life if all one did was fear the end of it. So he'd just pluck the lives from those who didn't need them- which, in his skewed perspective, was everybody who didn't prove to be a useful little pawn or bait.
Yet never before had Apophis tried to intervene so much, demanding that he kill the boy now before authorities arrived to arrest the crazed maniac. And yet Hiroki continued to dismiss the voice that he usually listened to. This boy was fun. He would love watching him die. It was already hilarious seeing his reactions to such simplistic torture methods. But, then again... the kid did just tell his precious little friend about what Hiroki was doing. The struck beast was crying out for assistance, or at least some way to distract the predator slowly strangling it.
Yet... what the hell had the idiot been staring up at a good majority of this time? He followed the boy's eyes, and saw nothing but a shitty ceiling. ...Dumbass must've gone crazy already. Ah, well. Once he started losing his sense of fun, he'd slash his throat and move on to the Detective Prince.
"He can see me, Miyamora. This one has been cursed with the vision of the unknown. One should not be spared if he witnesses the spirits of the dead and the wicked. Finish him off. Kill him."
Apparently, speaking to nobody, Hiroki snapped back rather loudly, practically spitting at the snake's idea.
"The hell are you talking about, Apophis? Like shit. ...Whatever. You want it, you get it."
That was when the sound of millions of panes of shattered glass exploded in the room- yet nothing had broken. That dark, indistinct shadow over Hiroki slowly distorted and extremely bloated- the ethereal creature was apparently so ridiculously huge that, if it had been solid, it probably would have destroyed the house just by appearing in the first place.
Hiroki simply held Souji down, glaring in amusement, staring down like an overbearing monster.
Slowly, horrifically, the snake revealed itself to be absolutely leviathanesque, those dead, yellow eyes looking at nothing as its stone-grey head loomed directly behind Hiroki.
...And then its jaws slowly snapped open, revealing torn cheek membranes barely holding its mouth together, and rows upon rows of jagged, gory teeth. A black tongue lolled out, and some acidic green substance dripped in torrents.
Apparently, this venom had no effect on its host. However, when Hiroki cheerfully slammed his finger on a venom-coated sleeve, he was quite pleased to hear the acidic sizzle as he pressed his finger on Souji's forehead.
"...Meet Apophis. He's Death, I'm Death. How do you like that, kid? ...Don't tell me you're scared of snakes."
---
The echo of bones cracking within his chest made bile shoot up his throat. It was all Souji could do to swallow it back down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard it was bleeding. Not that he noticed the excess blood -- all he had been tasting for the past forty five minutes was blood. Although the unpleasant addition of his own stomach acid did not add any welcome variety.
"Yosuke Hanamura... is he a friend of yours, Souji? I think I know where he lives. Fuck, wouldn't that suck if somebody just randomly shot him in his own home? Such a tragedy... those drive-by shootings, you know."
Souji wanted him dead. He wanted to watch him die. He wanted to be the one to do it.
But not before killing himself over his own stupidity. Even if The Snake already had known Yosuke's name, there was a chance he hadn't. And out of the stupidity that massive hemorrhaging awarded him, he'd given this psychopathic Snake the name of his best friend. His stomach was twisting and he found tears forming in his eyes. Christ, not now. He couldn't let him win now -- not after he'd come so far. Yosuke would be fine, he told himself hazily. All of his friends would be fine. He'd be there to protect them.
In a brief moment of childishness, however, Souji quietly wished that there was someone there to protect him.
Swallowing more of his own blood, he banished the thought rapidly. He didn't need anyone to keep him alive. He could do that easily enough on his own. In the hours he'd spent prior to this, pondering his role in the murders as the Wild Card, Souji had come to a few possible conclusions. He was not immortal, no, but he would have to stay alive until the end of this. Everyone had a purpose, and this was his. He would make it until the end.
However...
Souji had come to another conclusion. When one's purpose has been fulfilled, one could keep on living, but there was no true use for you in the grand scheme of things any longer. The ashen haired boy had waxed on the notion that he would have to live until the end in order to die when the time came. A sacrifice, of sorts. After all, when he'd been chosen, he'd had no real ties to anyone. His parents were distant, he was moving to a new town...he was an ideal candidate for sacrifice. Souji had accepted that for a long time, expecting Death.
And thus, he did not fear it.
But that had changed, if only slightly. Souji had ties -- bonds that protected him. Even now, he could hear their voices swimming through his head, faint though they were. He did not fear his own death, no. After expecting it for so long, one grew to see the beast in a new light. What he could not accept, however, was dying before it was time. Dying before his friends and family got the insurance of life he so desperately desired for them.
Souji was blasted out of his reverie with a shout from his captor. Oh, Souji thought in some sort of odd, half-conscious amusement, the snakes were talking. But that's when things changed. Twisting and contorting, his vision suddenly became more solid. It still passed through objects like butter, betraying it's lack of mass, but to his bruised eyes alone -- this monster was real.
Souji truly did want to scream now. He bit his cheek harder, staring up at the two hideous beasts looking down at him. 'Apophis', he thought numbly, rolling the name around his mind. He knew it -- he'd seen it once before, in World History. Ms. Sofue had dedicated a whole class to the feuds of the ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses. This was Ra's serpent of death, who perused the sun God unrelentingly each night for eternity. This was his enemy.
Souji lost the battle against his body, his head lolling to the side before he vomited the entire contents of his stomach onto the ground. It mixed with his blood, turning everything a sickly red color. Souji dry heaved, though there being nothing more to expunge from his body. Despite the unpleasant and unwelcome sight of his blood and vomit mingling on his kitchen floor, it was better than the sight of a Death God and the host it clung to like a parasite staring down at him with murder in their eyes.
---
Apophis's sudden revelation and appearance into the tangible world seemed to be enough to drive the kid off the edge at last. To stare death in the eyes was the final numbing sensation that caused the heart to at last freeze in its final desperate throes- the reaper's frigid, frozen smile, ever locked into that cheshire face, was always enough to finally pull one away from any hope of opening their eyes once again.
Hiroki had learned long ago that there was no beautiful light at the end of the tunnel. Death was an absolute end- there was nothing after it. When humans died, they were gone forever. That was the end of it. And the more humans he killed... the more roots of the great tree of life would be cut off and stunted, the hydra's burnt neck unable to split off into any more appendages.
He was the Hercules to the hydra. Hiroki would be the one to bring his torch and slowly but surely cut off every option of regeneration humanity had- they would all be dead, and he would be happy. Nobody deserved to live. Those who were kindred spirits may have been a sole exception, but Hiroki, in his hypocrisy, tried to disregard them from his mantra of watching the world burn. Wait. Was the kid about to pass out? That wouldn't do. They wouldn't do at all.
"Oh no you don't, you little piece of shit."
Violently and rather brutally, Hiroki threw away all sadistic grace he may have had before, roughly grabbing the teenager by the neck, twisting his head so he was forced to stare into the eyes of his captor and the apocalyptic serpent behind him, breathing down his neck. It was amazing- such a ragged and cruel move was performed so swiftly that he might as well have broken the boy's neck in a split second with a swift crack.
Grin contorting into the most sadistic expression imaginable, Hiroki knew he didn't hear that snap. His victim was still conscious, at the mercy of his whim and pleasure. And yet Hiroki knew, glancing briefly and noting the cesspool of filth and blood around them, that there wasn't that much time yet before this brat finally kicked the bucket.
He would have to be creative with his methods and his time- no. Pushing this kid's pathetic little body even further would only risk that he would black out and die mercifully. He wanted the boy to die with his eyes wide open, mind still tortured with horrific ideas and images dancing in his brain, forever scarring him until the flame of life was expelled by a breeze. Yes. He would detail everything for him...
For once, Apophis's bellows were audible to those other than Hiroki, the malignant hiss so deep in pitch and tone that every syllable seemed like a thunderous quake.
"Elaborate for him, Miyamora. You're creative... tear his rationality into sunders. Erase his courage. I can smell his resolve dying... do it."
Yes. He would do it. He would make this boy cry for death.
"Such a shame... after you're gone, who knows what'll happen? It'd be such a shame if that Yosuke boy was found on the side of a road. Oh, how horrified they would be. Hit by a car, and then thrown into a lake... dragged out while still alive, and forced to feel the clamps of jumper cables slamming into his skin before the final spark ended it all. How tragic."
Yes. Yes. This was how every murder should have gone! Never before had Hiroki Miyamora been so entertained in his twisted games...!
"Chie Satonaka would look fine with a fragmented head, too, wouldn't you agree? Point-blank shotgun blasts are so colorful. Ah, the pink brains, the white skull... the splatters of red blood. Every shot is a work of art, I say."
It was amazing how eloquently and calmly he was letting these violent, disgusting thoughts out, making sure to assault his prey with as much mental imagery as possible before going in for the kill, his knife already at the ready.
"And I'm sure Yukiko Amagi isn't quite as fireproof here as she is in the television, hmm? I'll let Apophis test that out. Let's tie her to a stake and burn her like a witch, why don't we?"
A brief plume of super-heated smoke emerged from Apophis's jaws as the creature apparently snorted- whether in amusement or disgust was impossible to tell.
"I'm certain that Rise Kujikawa is rather... vulnerable. Perhaps I'll leave her to my friend while I hunt down Kanji Tatsumi with a rifle. After all, if you can't simply go up to an animal and throttle it, you should wound it first. Wait until it falls, and then drag its head back as a prize."
His heart was pounding in absolute excitement, his crazed eyes narrowing as the mask now amplified the look of predatory fury on his face. Every smoothly-narrated monologue detailing all of their deaths... he loved it. He loved it! And the expressions dancing on his victim's face were priceless, a cornucopia of entertainment and amusement for the sadistic monster.
"The Detective Prince, meanwhile...? Ahhh, I'm sure while your friends are vomiting at the sight of your mangled corpse, I can sneak into the TV and cut the little bastard's neck before his Shadow can so much as blink at him. Wouldn't you love that, Souji Seta? Wouldn't you love knowing that you had failed...? Leaving his pitiful little corpse to rot inside there, thrown out in the foggy weather, left hanging on a telephone wire after being dead for several days? That cousin of yours... I must admit, I have a friend nearby who will certainly 'take care' of her... and your uncle can be dispatched quickly. One clean shot to the cranium, I'd say."
Everything was filtered out. This was the moment. This was the exact second in time that he had been waiting for, though he spared the boy for ten minutes, letting him wade in the thoughts that Hiroki had forcefully implanted his head, all while Apophis's corrosive venom dripped down in showers. If the boy didn't bleed to death, which Hiroki doubted, perhaps Apophis's venom could just boil right through his skin, through his organs, and pool on the floor underneath him.
And then the moment came. Grip tightening around that faithful pocket knife, Hiroki planning on aiming straight for the boy's left eye, he slowly lifted the weapon, taking in the macabre elation this brought to him.
"...Goodbye, Souji Seta."
---
Souji's mind was gone, lost in the reflection of light off his own blood. He could feel the pain ceasing -- slowly but surely -- as his vision turned fuzzy. This was better, Souji found himself thinking irrationally. This didn't hurt like being awake had. Like thinking had. His eyes were closing against his will. Something told him that, yes, this was it, as he wordlessly took one last look at the world that had been his home for the past sixteen years...
And, had it not been for the jerk of The Snake's calloused hand, it would have.
The whip of his head lolling around on his neck made him wince loudly, his eyes burning with tears. The pain was back, everywhere, with such intensity that he felt like doing what Hiroki had assured him he would. Part of him screamed to just have him end it. Or to end it himself. Anything to stop the pain radiating throughout his entire body. Anything to erase the twisted grin of The Snake from his mind. Anything to mute the sound of Apophis's low hiss forever. He just wanted all of it to end.
He felt the fingers close tighter around his throat, allowing only the slightest scrap of air through to his abused lungs, before loosening once again. His eyes were half lidded and clouded almost beyond recognition as he watched The Snake's mouth begin to move.
It was once the words of his captor left his throat that Souji finally began paying attention. The words faded in and out, but each one was so loaded with sadistic glee that the message was communicated easily.
"Such a shame...that Yosuke boy...hit by a car, and then thrown into a...forced to feel the clamps of jumper cables...slamming into his skin before the final spark...tragic."
Souji's stomach seized up, contorting painfully as images flooded his mind.
"Chie...fragmented head, too...int-blank shotgun blasts are so colorful...brains, the white...splatters of red blood...a work of art."
His heart was racing faster now as he moved his arms feebly, trying futilely to make him stop his venomous litany of death.
"...Yukiko...fireproof here as...the television...Apophis...burn her like a witch..."
He felt bile coming up his throat once again, burning his esophagus and making it impossible for him to speak or even cry.
"...certain that Rise... vulnerable...leave her to my friend...hunt down Kanji...an animal and throttle...wound it first...falls...drag...a prize."
The "victory" he'd claimed over forcing himself not to scream seemed so pathetic now that there was nothing to stop. In fact, he found himself desperate to scream. To make some sort of noise that would drown out the sound of The Snake's flowery descriptions.
"...Detective...your friends...vomiting...your mangled corpse...TV and cut the little bastard's...so much as blink at him...Wouldn't you love that, Souji Seta?...you had failed...pitiful little corpse to rot...hanging on a telephone wire...dead for several days...cousin of yours...I have a friend nearby...'take care' of her...uncle...one clean shot to the cranium..."
Something changed inside him. At the mention of his friends as one entity, something began to fill him. It wasn't a pent up scream or a cry -- it couldn't even be described as a noise. In that instant, it was as if he felt pressure on all sides. But it wasn't a cold, lifeless pressure (like that of The Snake's long fingers wrapped around his neck), it was warm. At first he thought he was dying. The Snake's voice was coming in clearer now. It was as if the friendly pressure -- that felt so familiar, comfortable and nostalgic all at once -- was dulling the pain -- allowing him to filter away all distractions. His eyes hardened, some of their brightness back. Whether this feeling was rage, or the subconscious presence of his friends, he didn't know. All he did knew was that he wasn't alone.
For a boy who'd spent most of his life alone...dying with at least the figurative presence of people he loved wasn't the worst thing in the world, was it?
"...Goodbye, Souji Seta."
He smiled so slightly that it was almost imperceptible. Relaxing his shoulders, he watched the knife rise above The Snake's head with an oddly tranquil calm. He was numb all over now, that warm pressure blocking out all the pain.
He probably wouldn't even feel it.
---
He was having a generous dinner offered by his in-laws, along with Nanako. While he wasn't entirely enjoying the visit, he couldn't help but to try and make the most out of it. His daughter wasn't complaining (what with so many people in the house compared with back in Inaba), he just smiled and bared with it as he watched Nanako dance around the wide living room.
Then his cell rang. Jeez, can't this police detective get any time off? He looked at the number displayed on the screen. Wasn't familiar. Prank call? Muttering, he apologized to his relatives, excusing himself as he headed for the veranda, picking up the call at last. From the voice, Ryotaro could easily tell that it was Souji's good friend and classmate, Hanamura? Yo... something. The teenager on the other side of the line was speaking in a hurried and panicked tone.
"Calm down, Hanamura. What is it?" Ryotaro said, trying desperately to calm himself down in the process. Hanamura repeatedly told him that something had happened...and he wasn't getting the general idea of it being a good one.
Leaving his parents-in-law's house in a rush, Nanako with them, he practically jumped into his jeep and rushed back to Inaba, a hand nervously fidgeting the holstered gun he had. Something about his nephew being in trouble? in deep trouble.
He silently hoped that he could make it.
Dear gods, he had to.
The last time he had been in such a panicked state was when Chisato was in trouble. A call from the hospital. And back then, he thought that if he became better at his job, he would be able to prevent unfortunate occurrences from happening again. Fate playing a game on him? Just how many times more?
Screw the traffic rules, he thought urgently, making a call to his crap of a partner. If it was a big case, he might need some help after all. Still flooring the pedal, he flipped open his cellphone, looking for Adachi's number, and was already calling a moment later, conveying what Hanamura did when he was still with Nanako.
When he reached his residence, however, he was in for a shock.
Broken glass was marring the grounds, even out to the streets. The bottom floor looked unaffected, but there was something...something unexplainable, unspeakable...some sort of aura that was enveloping his house. That was it. He didn't give a shit about having backups or whatever anymore. Without warning, he rushed into the house, heading straight for Souji's room on the second floor.
Gun at the ready, he kicked the door open in a flurry, his weapon aimed at the murderer. "Freeze!" was the only word he could manage as his eyes went briefly to his nephew...his poor, poor nephew that he had taken a liking to as much as Nanako was to him. Holding his breath, he turned his attention back to the raven-haired man, his face contorting into an anger unexplained by words.
The man was masked, and from what little he could tell from his berserked mind, his eyes betrayed his insanity, something that told of a psychopath that was taking enjoyment out of others' pain. Which was what he was doing right now...if the murderer was intent on killing Souji, his nephew would be dead already. The drive from his in-laws' wasn't close...or was it because he was flooring it?
The sight of swinging lights, broken windows, the grounds tainted red helped him pull the trigger for him. The man needed to be dead. RIGHT NOW.
---
Adachi hung up, frowning. Something'd happened to Souji-kun... That rotten little twerp.
It'd just be so easy to let something happen to him...
But that wouldn't be any fun, huh? If an accident befell Souji, rather than an "accident". The boy was meddling in his game, but Adachi would rather disqualify the impudent toddler himself for not playing by his rules.
Sighing, he mustered up the ghost of a smile. He had nothing better to do anyways. Might as well "help out" Dojima-san.
He leisurely took his time jogging over to the Dojima residence, just in time to see Dojima-san make his way out of the car and rush into his home half-cocked and full of vinegar and piss.
"Well, well," Adachi smiled to himself. "Looks like our hero's a victim now."
He could smell it, though: the scent of a Persona-user. It wasn't Souji. It was something... indiscriminately malevolent.
There was no vehicle nearby that didn't already belong in the neighbourhood. Unlikely to live nearby. Whoever it was that had broken in, and violated this sweet safe secure sanctuary for the superb Souji, had come by on foot. He knew where Souji lived, and either knew that he'd be home alone, or wouldn't have given a damn either way if Dojima-san hadn't left with Nanako. Probably both.
This person either didn't care if they were caught as well, or knew he was good enough to get away with it.
The stakes were raised in this game now. A new player had entered, and upped the ante.
Well, well. Let's cut the cards and see what we draw.
Adachi, taking a brief moment to 'compose' himself, rushed after his partner, frantically breathing. "Dojima-san, wait!"
---
After hanging up with Doujima-san and picking out his most weighted kunai, Yosuke ignored his mother's questions and left, heading for the Doujima house as fast as his old ass bike would go. There probably wasn't much he could do, but he couldn't just sit at home and do nothing. His best friend and leader was in deep trouble, and sitting on his ass would just make the anxiety so much worse.
When Yosuke arrived at the Doujima house after a few minutes of hard pedaling, he was relieved to see the car in its usual place. That meant Doujima-san had beat him there, which made him relax a tiny bit. Still, he was eager to get inside and make sure everything was okay. There was no one else around, just Souji, whoever was attempting to kill him, Doujima-san, and himself. So Yosuke rushed into the house and started looking for Doujima-san hurriedly, not even bothering to take in the state the house was in.
---
"Freeze!"
And that was when his wonderful little world came crashing down on him, Hiroki's eyes instinctively narrowing, feeling what cold carcass of a heart he had left skipping a beat before smirking in amusement. That bullet was destined for his skull. It would be so sweetly situated between his eyes and nestled straight into his brain, right? This was the end of the road. This was where he was going to die horribly, his agenda never fulfilled. Oh, how sad! How terrible to be cut down in his murderous prime, that leviathan of a man only giving Dojima the most twisted smile he could.
He was smart enough not to speak. So much as a voice or a hint would be a pretty fucking stupid thing to do, and Takeshi would chide him for it- after all, Hiroki's crime had been essentially perfect. The only evidence was Souji's blood, and if there were fingerprints, the only traces were buried in Souji's neck and on the knife that Hiroki had in his possession. He doubted they'd be fingerprinting this piece of shit while he bled out in his own residence. Hilarious.
The bullet was coming- straight for his eye, eager to crack through one simple organ and bury itself in the next solid thing that it ran into. Hiroki was going to die.
...Not really.
Apophis may have been completely invisible to them, his maw gaping open as his head turned to stare at this new intruder, but his aura was not. Rejected, the bullet was virtually snapped in half, sent instead flying completely backwards, narrowly avoiding catching the person who fired it. Clink. Right in the wall. Nothing in nature could send a bullet backwards that way- absolutely nothing. Hiroki had gone from a psychopath to a demonic monster, and he didn't give a care.
That abyssal, black gem shimmering, Ophiuchus etched and scratched in its center, Hiroki simply nodded and cheerfully waved, looking at the window outside- and, with no hesitation or care that he was jumping from a second-story window, he lunged out, fall easily broken before escaping into the pitch-black night in equally pitch-black clothes.
He'd be fine. These idiotic cops would be shell-shocked, stunned and scrambling to get Souji help- and Hiroki would be far, far away from here by then, with no trail to leave behind. Sprinting, listening to metal-lined boots violently slamming into the pavement, he just kept running.
After all, he had a rendezvous point to get to- and a car to hop into.
"You didn't kill him, you useless bag of flesh!"
Cheerfully laughing out loud, Hiroki yawned after slowing his pace, knowing that the house was nowhere to be seen and that he was probably far ahead of any officers at this point.
"Nah. But he'll probably die from all the shit I did to him, anyway. If he does live, well, hey. He'll be scared. He'll be terrified. The next time we meet, he'll be begging for death. I can assure you of that, Apophis."
---
He expected the bullet to be planting into the murderer's skull, not snapping in half and flying in his direction. It was either pure luck that he was still standing, or the crazy psychopath...monster, even...was finding it enjoyable to harvest the fear that was evident on his own face.
Then the monster practically flew out of the window before he could respond.
Deftly holstering his handgun, he rushed to Souji's side, kneeling and picking him up by his arms. "Hang in there Souji, uncle Doujima will get you to help right away," he breathed hurriedly, holding him close as he rushed down the stairs, past Adachi and someone else that he couldn't make out from his blurred eyes, into his vehicle, buckling in a hurried motion. Ryotaro didn't bother informing them; their next destination was clear enough, what with the trail of blood he left behind and on his own clothing.
Nonetheless, he waited for the two to get on the car, as well. Then he just floored it, as urgent as he came.
---
Everything was happening way too fast for Yosuke to process, and he had been acting on instinct until they were in the car and had practically drifted down two streets. That was when it finally sunk in that he was in Doujima's car - clinging the handle above the door for dear life - and oh, God, Souji. He looked terrible and like he might die at any moment.
---
Souji heard a voice.
Then a bang.
Then a crash, much like the crash that had started this whole nightmare. Did that mean it was over? Or maybe the knife had plowed through his eye already and this was his brain's final joke before it would short out and die, along with the rest of him.
He'd certainly expected death to be less colorful than this, though. Red seemed to be everywhere. Two red ties, reddish hair, and of course, himself -- he was oozing that red at a disturbing rate.
Suddenly, he felt air rush by -- he was being moved somewhere, but the warmth of a touch hardly penetrated the chill that gripped him like a vice. The air stopped as he was laid in the backseat of a...car? Maybe he was in the Velvet Room. Maybe that's where you went when you died.
He tried to focus his gaze, his eyes landing on another pair -- wide, brown and familiar. They looked like they were crying, but Souji couldn't hear anything.
But the bloodied teen didn't have much time to muse on the owner of those sad eyes. His head lolling to the side, he coughed violently, blood spewing out of his throat and splattering across the back of the driver and passenger seats, not to mention over the hands of the boy sitting next to him.
More red, Souji smiled absently, before promptly passing out.
---
Adachi tried to smile, despite the situation. As in, giving a different sort of the smile than he truly wished to on the inside.
Would the game end, though, if Souji died? Or would all those other brats simply take up arms, gaining stronger resolve to avenge him?
Namatame was so useful in his present capacity, but if people he threw in started dying, he would obviously stop. And the game would end if they couldn't be saved. Adachi really didn't want to resort to doing it himself, not yet, it was too early, it wasn't right of him to step from director and stage manager to lead actor.
So, for now, Souji had to live.
For his entertainment, if nothing else.
"...so, how's Junes, Yosuke-san?" Adachi murmured quietly and awkwardly, breaking the silent tension of the car.
---
Yosuke looked at Adachi in absolute horror. Souji was on the verge of death in the backseat and he was asking about fucking Junes?! "G-good?" he stuttered anyway, not sure what else to do in this situation. Stupid coffee lackey wasn't helping!
---
He wasn't listening to the retarded conversation between the passengers in the vehicle.
Finally in sight. Calm down, Ryotaro, you don't want your mind in shambles when you need it to think at the most critical time. Swerve into the emergency department, and it was with sheer luck that there was an empty parking lot.
Did he look like he just emerged from hell? Because the bright lights in the hospital was a blinding contrast to the red he and his nephew were in. Numerous people were there at an instant, carrying Souji off for immediate treatment just as a few came to ask if the detective was unhurt.
He just stared at where Souji last disappeared into, absently sitting down at one of the available chairs, elbow on his legs as his arms supported his head. The only thing he could do was pray.
---
Adachi sat down beside Dojima. He gave the older man a squeeze on the shoulder.
---
Yosuke was completely numb as he sat with Doujima and Adachi. The whole situation was so unreal. Sure, he'd seen Souji pretty beat up in the TV, but never like this and never in their world. It made him feel... dirty, like someone or something had crossed a line.
"D-Doujima-san?" he asked, his voice small and unusually high. "I-is he gonna be okay?"
---
"Do you think I know the goddamn answer?" he was practically shouting, not really caring whether it was the frickin' hospital or not. When Souji didn't appear after long moments of staring at the curtains, he lowered his head with his fingers raking to the back of his skull, stress clearly showing. There was blood, so much blood that he found himself mumbling 'why couldn't it be mine?' feverishly, as if he would break apart if he stopped to contemplate on the severity of the situation.
And despite how horrendous a partner Adachi had been, he couldn't help but feel comforted at the other man's presence, even if it was for moral support. At least the detective won't fall apart.
Just yet.
---
"Hey, you know, how about I get us some drinks to calm us down, Dojima-san?"
Adachi sprung to his feet and trotted over to the vending machine. Grabbing three drinks, he took a detour, heading the long way around to sneak a peek into the ER.