Current Edit: 17/10/17

Chapters 21 or so were worked on with Nightly7, with Raidou The 16th as beta for the original chapter.

Warning: Themes relating to self-harm, mental illness and abuse are present in later chapters, and this fanfic, overall has been discontinued. Read at your own discretion.

'Burn My Dead' blared over the clatter of the train, blasting his surroundings with bursts of rhymes and raps.

For a few reasons, Minato had (wisely) chosen to keep his singing to himself. His Japanese was already wanting; English lyrics? Bad idea, all around.

Leaning comfortably against the wall of the train, he listened out for the announcements. The PA repeated, "The next stop is Iwatodai." A decade ago, it was his home.

With a small sigh, his overcast eyes scanned the nearly empty train.

Now, he was heading back because of the scholarship he'd managed to receive for the most prestigious high school in the area: Gekkoukan High School. Out of anxiousness, perhaps, he began and immediately regretted chewing on his lip. Maybe lip balm was a good idea but…

There was another man on the carriage, slumped in his seat. He was struggling to stay awake, and his breaths were far heavier than normal. Why was that?

His memory from the incident that shunted him out of Iwatodai initially was foggy, but he knew a few things for sure. First: his parents were dead. Iwatodai, while his home from long ago, was where they and his sanity had come to die. His aunt had urged him to return to Iwatodai and complete his schooling there, despite her knowing what associations he had with it.

He shook his head. Second: From that day, ten years ago, he'd experienced a variety of things. Things of oddity and terror. What he'd decided to pass the time with while on the last stretch of the journey was one of those things.

Perhaps out of boredom and perhaps out of concern, he concentrated and spoke aloud, his gunmetal eyes glinting with a dash of cyan light. Minato heard, although the man certainly wasn't talking to anybody, or himself, "I really suck at my job… I'm worthless… I should stop… maybe if I disappeared, no-one would notice…"

Sometimes, he thought that the white collar class in Japan was being driven too hard. Women desired less and less to start families, men's relationships with women were strained and often resulted in divorce or were simply unhappy marriages. Well hey. There was a reason why the birth rates in Japan were declining.

Sobering thoughts pervaded Minato's mind and he stifled a half-hearted chuckle as he formulated a response to the voice, playing muted and on repeat in the background. It was a wonder that he could hear it over 'Mass Destruction' now booming in his ears.

"Everyone can tell that your week has sucked. Did you know that?" Instead of Minato's usual voice, the frantic mutter of beached waves skittered from his mouth.

"I could guess," the dark voice replied.

Minato almost laughed. "Yup, keep getting the bad ends from work, work late to make up for it, use it as an excuse to avoid your probably unloving wife and be absolutely terrified of returning home, dreading every moment that you get closer on this train?" he presumed, predicting his answer.

There was a pause. "Yeah." The voice sighed wistfully.

Shoving his hands in his pockets as the familiar arpeggio of notes came from the PA, making a final announcement as they pulled into the station. "Well, sorry I can't talk much more but uh… yeah. I can't tell you what you can and can't do but if you're thinking of throwing yourself off a train platform soon… or doing something else like that…

"Personally, I think you'll regret ever making that choice more than if you found even something little to keep yourself going. Like a friend or a hobby?" Minato resisted shrugging, although that was exactly what he wanted to do.

The voice fell silent for a moment. "Are you speaking from experience?"

Knitting his eyebrows in thought, Minato replied, "Maybe. Like I said, up to you. I can't and won't stop you." There was a small whirr accompanied by a long, synthesised note as the train doors opened. "See ya."

The presence that he'd spoken to and its voice faded as Minato sighed and approached the gates leading out from the station. He removed a pamphlet as he observed the clock overhead, which read '11:58'.

Considering how dark it was, Minato knew he should've been hurrying to his designated dormitory – a placeholder before he could be moved to the boys' dorm.

The first of many strange things that he'd been able to do was talk to a person's inner subconscious and hear their words if they were in thought. Going by Jungian terminology, Minato called them 'Shadows': an unconscious aspect of the personality which the conscious ego does not identify in itself.

Something like that. Wikipedia wasn't always reliable.

Anyways, he figured that if a psychologist had an ability like he had, they'd probably make a fortune or become traumatised by the hell they would have to deal with, but he'd never heard or seen anyone with what he called 'Shadow Whispers' before. Maybe it was for the best.

If nothing else but the ability to talk to Shadows, it was great for cursing when he didn't want people to know he was.

Accompanied by this strange ability was – as he passed the gate, his watch read 12:00 – the ethereal world that coated the norm.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but honestly, that piece of information paled in comparison to the sheer spectacle of it all.

Darkness hung over the streets, with ominous illumination from the monstrous moon above lighting puddles of blood spread over the road, and coffins standing upright where he thought people were. A murky green hue obscured the surroundings, and shadows seemed to invite themselves into places where they weren't meant to be; where light should've been. And the meagre scraps of light that were left? Merely scattered, scuttling shards of it.

Still, he continued walking. Minato sometimes looked at his flyer and at the surrounding streets, confirming that he was going in the right direction.

On occasion, he saw odd, amorphous and black creatures roaming around. Last time that he'd encountered one of them, it turned into a sad impression of Hulk Hogan and almost pummelled him ten ways to Sunday.

And no-one liked wrestling after that night.

In all seriousness, he found himself cursing on impulse and he'd noticed that the weird creature was laughing whenever he did so.

By an informed guess, Minato thought that maybe those creatures were Shadows too, but uh… outside the human body? It was weird. He didn't question it and hadn't confirmed it as such, but it was plausible.

As plausible as strange creatures lurking in some alternate time or dimension and talking to said creatures could be, anyways.

He didn't exactly hate the time of Shadows because they were attacking him sometimes (although that was definitely an issue) in a brutal lesson of improvised weapons and defending one's self. Minato hated it because it cut out his mp3 and electronics' power while he was in it. He could deal with Shadows now, however loosely. But turning off his music?!

That was just a crime.

After about what he thought was twenty minutes or so, he arrived. The rust bricked building standing three storeys above him matched the picture on his brochure—what he could make out from it anyways. The address matched and all.

With that in mind, he entered, surprised to find that it wasn't locked. Convenient for him, he supposed.

An eerie pall of silence reigned in the lobby. He made out a counter nearby to his left, couch and table to the right, some partitions further ahead…

Wait, why was the light near the counter working? His interest was definitely piqued.

There, he saw a boy, perhaps ten years old, garbed in black and white striped pyjamas. His pale, moon skin and cyan blue eyes seemed aglow even in the dimness. "You're late," the kid pointed out. Minato approached, now making out the rest of his features: His short, dark hair and the beauty mark under his left eye.

Raising an eyebrow, Minato's train of thought was running at one-hundred miles an hour. Who was this kid? Why wasn't he in a coffin? Why were the lights working here?

How the hell did he teleport, sitting on the counter when he was standing before?

"But I know why. It's because the trains were delayed, right?" the child said before Minato could even comment on his statement. But yes, he was right. Someone, perhaps in a daze, had thrown themselves off the platform straight into the speeding train. It was pasted all over the news on TVs and online. Needless to say, it had taken a while to calm the situation and investigate the scene. "Anyways… I need you to sign this contract here."

Gesturing to a folder, sitting neatly on the table next to the docked pen, it opened without any hand contact and flipped open to the lone page within. Alarm bells were definitely going off in Minato's mind. Sometimes he really thought he was crazy.

But he'd never seen telekinesis the likes of what he was witnessing just then.

…Why the hell did he feel calm, then?

"Don't worry. All it says is that you will take full responsibility for your actions. You know. The usual stuff." 'Usual stuff', his foot. Minato had little idea of what that meant. Still, he somehow felt compelled to do as the boy had said.

It read – annoyingly enough, in English – 'I chooseth this fate of mine own free will.' Not to mention the whole 'ye olde' thing it was going for. Through all common sense, he picked up the pen and signed his name in kanji, 'Minato Arisato', on the line below the rather short sentence.

When Minato had finished, the boy smiled, picked up the contract, read it over, and pressed it against his chest. "No-one can escape time," he stated, making Minato raise an eyebrow. "It delivers us all to the same end." He lifted his hand, the contract disappearing into thin air. "You cannot cover your eyes or plug your ears."

Again, he teleported (if Minato could learn how to do that from the kid if he somehow saw him again, he was definitely going to ask) behind him, where the meagre counter light died against the overwhelming dark.

The shadows wrapped around the boy, taking him in, melting into the umbra. "And so it begins…" With those mysterious words, he disappeared.

Taking a moment to register what spectacle he'd just witnessed, Minato noticed that the lights were cut off as well, leaving the lobby in black and green. He could barely see, once again.

Shaking his head, Minato took a few steps towards what he thought was a staircase when he heard from above him, front and centre, "Who's there?!"

He thought it was a girl's voice and oddly enough, he couldn't feel the presence of a Shadow from this person. Minato could, however, see that there was something silver near her leg and its glint stood out in the darkness. As she was about to grab for it, another voice came, "Takeba, wait!"

Turning back to face the voice, her and Minato's eyes were drawn towards the new, commanding presence in the room.

It was then that the murk disappeared, revealing the two females up the first flight of stairs as the lights flickered on. 'Mass Destruction' came back in full force. Thank god. Music withdrawals wouldn't do for him.

The first girl was a brunette with milky, brown eyes. If Minato didn't know any better, he would've said that she was probably decently popular at the school. She wore a pink blazer over her shirt, grey skirt, knee-high socks and loafers.

The girl – actually, lady or woman behind her – looked more like a senior in age, and similarly to her junior, was wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt, skirt and knee-high boots. Her complexion was that of snow, her hair like wine and her eyes of similar colour.

"I didn't think you'd arrive so late," the senior began. Minato supposed it was supposed to be an ice-breaker. "My name is Mitsuru Kirijo. I'm one of the students at this dorm, and this…" she gestured to the girl in front of her. "This is Yukari Takeba. She'll be a junior this spring, just like you."

Her voice was still shaky. Yukari gave Minato a half-hearted, "Uh, hey."

Briefly wondering why she seemed so nervous, he introduced, "Yeah. Minato Arisato."

Yukari could barely make out what he said, but she'd read his profile before then (not that she'd really wanted to, though). "Anyways, your journey must've been tiring. Takeba will show you to your room," Mitsuru said, leaving the scene.

"Oh, right. Um, follow me." Minato stifled a heavy sigh as they walked to the boys' section of the dorm. They stopped at the end of the hallway of that floor. "This is your room," she said. "Our curfew's at eleven, so make sure you come back then and sign your name off at the roster on the counter," Yukari warned. "Make sure you don't lose your keys, otherwise you'll never hear the end of it."

"…Right. Thanks. Is that from experience?" he asked slowly.

She rubbed the back of her head. "Sorta…" Yukari admitted. It turned out that she didn't lose the key to her room and even though it turned out that she'd just misplaced it somewhere in the dorm, Mitsuru was not amused. "Um… Actually, on the way here, did you see anything strange?"

Minato raised an eyebrow. He could say something vaguely witty in response, but he felt like he wanted sleep more than he wanted to explain. Eventually, he shook his head.

Studying his expression, she came up with nothing. His blank face gave no emotion away. "Ah, I see. That's good." Yukari sighed in relief. "Anyways, I know you might have more questions but let's save them for later, okay?"

Spinning his keychain, Minato nodded.

Yukari seemed satisfied with that. "Okay. Well, I'll see you in the morning."

As she left for her room, Minato turned to his, put his belongings down and changed, ready for the Sandman.