From his seat outside of Officer Kurosawa's office, Tōshirō Miwa attempted to get a glimpse into the tiny window on the door by pushing himself up on the balls of his feet. His expertly polished boots made it uncomfortable, and Miwa quickly reproached himself for even attempting something so juvenile. Instead, he placated himself with fiddling with the radio on his shoulder and the sound of his boots tapping against the speckled tile floor.

Miwa glanced at his watch and then anxiously crossed his arms.

He was still new, but for some reason, Kurosawa-san had taken a liking to him and had started bringing him along for his midnight patrol. So far, his nights experience had been terrifying, boring, awkward, embarrassing, and though he couldn't be certain, some nights may have been a little fun.

Any feelings of amusement that Miwa may have been having three hours ago had been put to a swift death when he and Kurosawa happened upon a scene of absolute destruction on the Moonlight Bridge. Not only was there a gaping hole in the median the size of a semi-truck, but even more frightening, the water-facing barricade on the north side of the bridge had been blown to pieces. How any one person could even fathom the force required for such damage was beyond Miwa's comprehension, and had Kurosawa been absent, Miwa would have never known what to do with the three young Gekkoukan students lying in a heap near the precipice of the now ruined bridge. They had all piled into the car willingly. Miwa guessed their meekness could either be attributed to the shock from whatever mysterious calamity they had witnessed or their fear of what would happen should they try the patience of two police officers.

When Miwa had pulled up their background checks on the drive to the station, he was aghast to discover the identity of the refined young woman in the back of Kurosawa's car was indeed Mitsuru Kirijo. He had looked to Kurosawa, then, wondering what was going on through his mentor's mind as they drove in silence back to the station. The friendship between her father and Kurosawa was of some repute around the office and the two were rumored to be close personally as well as professionally since the explosion ten years ago at Gekkoukan High School.

He didn't have a clue about the two nobodys flanking her sides, but judging from the harsh whispering going on in the backseat of the car, Miwa figured they were bad news. Probably a couple of punk kids who thought they could gain some infamy if they dragged Kirijo's daughter into some anti-establishment cult. Stories like that were typical, even in small cities. Miwa didn't like the sour looks on either of their faces, and he especially did not care for the fact that of the three of them, Kirijo's daughter looked to be in the most distress.

After Miwa had led the trio of delinquents into Kurosawa's office, he had immediately petitioned his commanding officer about finding the girl some kind of medical attention. After all, she appeared to have been cut rather badly on her arm while the other two looked only to have some oddly situated bumps and scrapes.

Kurosawa had refused plainly, stating that the three would be questioned immediately. Together.

Miwa swallowed, feeling a twinge of nervousness for the trio of students. Sure they might be culpable of some wrong-doing, but were they really in that deep? He might be new, but Miwa realized that if these kids were anything like the other persons of interest that walked into Kurosawa's office, they'd be out in ten or fifteen minutes and Mitsuru Kirijo would be receiving medical attention in handcuffs.

The sound of a definitive pair of footsteps marching down the hall caused Miwa to lurch up from his seat and quickly don his policeman's cap. As Kurosawa approached, nose deep in a folder of freshly printed background checks, Miwa bowed low and nervously touched the cuffs of his uniform.

"Sir, are you sure I can't at least sit in? I know I'm just a rookie, but Makinose-san says you're the best at interrogating and I think I could really learn-"

"Questioning, Miwa. No one's being interrogated yet."

"Right. Sorry, sir-"

"Gekkos smashing things after curfew isn't exactly a rarity in Port Island. There are better teachers for you on Shirakawa Boulevard."

Miwa decided not to think too hard about that sentence.

"It's just that-"

"Yes?" Kurosawa raised his head, and Miwa could see the fine black rings under his eyes.

"Well . . . one of the persons of interest is Mitsuru Kirijo."

"So?"

"I mean . . . " Miwa shrugged uncomfortably. "She's Takeharu Kirijo's daughter. . . And those two guys with her are orphans from the country. . ."

"And that strikes you as suspicious?"

"Well, not particularly sir."

"No?"

Miwa shrugged again.

"I mean, just last night you booked that up and coming bureaucrat and that cocaine dealer together. Makinose-san was telling me that a few months ago you had a line cook and a singer from Kyoto in on two charges of extortion."

"Our detainees are probably getting nervous. Not that that's a bad thing."

"Yes, sir. It's just, questioning them together instead of separately given the situation is highly unusual given standard protocol."

"You recall that I questioned the bureaucrat and the dealer together, Miwa?" Kurosawa said, keeping a steady eye on Miwa from underneath his cap. "Did Makinose mention that I did the same with the line cook and the singer?"

"Y-yes, he mentioned that . . ."

"So what exactly is so unusual about me interviewing three unusual suspects at one time?"

"Nothing, I guess. I. . . I just I thought I could learn something about your technique since . . . certain persons . . . seem to be saved for your unique line of group questioning."

"Well, what do you know?" Kurosawa smirked as he put his hand on the doorknob. "We just had ourselves a teaching moment and you didn't even have to step into my office."

Kurosawa did not attempt to close the door with any civility as he marched into his office. To the satisfaction of his grim sense of humor, all three detained subjects in his office flinched (albeit with varying degrees of nervousness). It was not long before Kurosawa felt a familiar ominous atmosphere fill the room. As much as he would have liked to take credit for instilling fear into the three young adults, Kurosawa knew the heavy feeling in the room too well to attribute it solely to his presence. After all, no one put before him was innocent, and the aura of guilt always manifested sooner or later.

He sat down behind his desk and set his eyes on each of the young Gekkos one by one before flipping the top page of his notebook back. He chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment as he read the top portion. He flipped the page and continued the process until there was nothing left to read.

"Akihiko Sanada?"

The slender silver haired boy on the far right slowly raised a bruised hand: top of the class.

"So you're the secret weapon?"

No one breathed.

"You're the Gekkoukan Men's Boxing Team newest recruit, aren't you?" Kurosawa suspended the page in his hand mid-flip as realization dawned upon the flustered athlete before him.

"Ah, I. . . y-yes, sir."

"You're going up against Ichinori next month in Nagoya, correct?"

"That's right."

"He's got a pretty tight left guard," Kurosawa folded his arms leisurely atop his desk as he leaned forward.

"I've seen him," Sanada replied mildly.

"Plan on beating him?"

"I don't plan on losing, sir," Sanada's response came without pause.

"Officer Kurosawa, if I may speak," the girl spoke without a quiver in her voice. Kurosawa turned to her easily and waved her on encouragingly.

"By all means, Miss Kirijo," Kurosawa said in his most pleasant tone.

"Before you conduct your investigation, I must claim culpability for the crimes which were committed. All of the damages which were wrought are to be owned by myself and myself alone. These two young men are to be exonerated of any crime. I can vouch for their innocence."

Kurosawa carefully scanned her eyes for any hesitation.

"You're confessing?"

"I am, sir," she answered, nonplussed.

Kurosawa licked his lips and straightened his posture as he began to search for the documents the crime scene unit had just submitted. He pressed a finger to the paper as he read aloud.

"You're telling me that you took out an entire retaining wall from the Moonlight Bridge by yourself."

"I did, sir."

"And the missing section of stone wall on the north side of the bridge," Kurosawa began moving his pen quickly. "Your handiwork as well?

"Yes, sir."

"And these two are injured because . . .?"

"They were in my way," she responded primly.

Kurosawa raised an eyebrow.

If he had handled her one on one, she might have made him actually work for his paycheck. However, Kurosawa would not have chosen his profession if he did not have the unwavering belief that the universe was just and always provided balance. He glanced at the other occupants in the room: Sanada was licking his lips and his ears were turning pink. Aragaki was providing less of a tell, though jamming a finger in his ear and flicking the wax to side could be considered a display of uneasiness.

These three kids had gotten into his squad car with the plan that Kirijo would take sole responsibility for the destruction. Admirable though it may be, Kurosawa couldn't use a false confession. He could keep at her with the good cop routine, but she was clearly willing to keep lying in order to absolve her two classmates of any blame.

Kurosawa gave Kirijo a soft knowing smile, and she hastily looked away.

He had a hunch that these two young men were less than obliging accomplices with the Kirijo's take all the blame strategy, but they had most likely agreed to it on the assumption that Takeharu Kirijo would waltz in armed with clout and sensible explanations and all involved would walk out with a clean slate.

Due to the nature of the incident at Gekkoukan High ten years ago, Takeharu Kirijo was never officially considered a person of interest in the explosion. There was simply too much evidence and eyewitness testimony supporting an accident. Instead, Takeharu Kirijo had come to Kurosawa just days after the investigation was closed and offered his complete and total cooperation in any endeavor the Port Island police deemed worth his time. It was a strange offer, and Kurosawa had considered questioning the CEO of the Kirijo Group, but realized he had only a gut feeling that something was wrong in his city.

Takeharu Kirijo had left his offer on the table, and had subtly repeated it throughout the years of police galas and benefits. Kurosawa was met with a choice: Wait for Takeharu to turn up and take him up on his offer of complete cooperation or gain complete cooperation from his daughter now, before The Kirijo Group had a chance to label this an accident.

If the events of last night were in any way related to the incident at Gekkoukan High ten years ago, then Kurosawa could not ignore the risk it posed to his city. Port Island was quickly becoming a hotbed for Apathy Syndrome and inexplicable late night disappearances, and as he mulled over how to best extract information from these three young kids, Kurosawa was growing ever more confident that these three held the key to fighting the unseen demons prowling in his city. First, he'd have to ease the truth from his charges, and in order to do that, he'd have to pick apart this charade of a story by appealing to Sanada and Aragaki's sense of honor.

His next move was set.

"Sounds like an open and shut case, Miss Kirijo. Thank you for making my job here so easy. Before I release your friends and book you, perhaps you could tell me how, in the process of single-handedly inflicting unparalleled damages to a bridge that's seen some of the most destructive typhoons in Japan's history, you managed to get a knife wound to your arm."

Kirijo's eyes fluttered to the ground, but just for a moment.

"Shrapnel, sir," she answered quickly.

"Ah," Kurosawa flipped a few pages over and pressed his chin into his hand as he mused aloud.

"Looking here, it seems the crime scene unit determined the force that caused those walls to break had a large enough surface area to cause a blunt impact. The debris, they say, was mostly in large clumps of stone and concrete. Now if I were to look around this room," Kurosawa scanned Aragaki carefully before landing on Sanada. "If anyone has injuries from 'large clumps of stone and concrete' it would be these young men."

Kurosawa's expression became grim as the girl before him began to tremble. Something shifted in Aragaki's subdued countenance and it was clear by the Sanada's shallow breathing that the young man was barely keeping his mouth shut.

Clearly, Kirijo had not been expecting him to press such a small matter, at least not so early in the interview and in so pleasant of a voice. As the seconds wore on, Kurosawa patiently watched as the blood thickened around her white knuckled grip on her injured arm.

"Miss Kirijo," Kurosawa joined his hands and squared his shoulders. "How did you manage to receive a slash to your arm when these two look like they were beaten with a sack of doorknobs?"

"Officer, let me-"

"I'm addressing Miss Kirijo, Sanada," Kurosawa warned quietly, careful not spare Kirijo from his gaze. "Miss Kirijo, are you or have you ever been involved in a cult?"

"N-no, Officer," she whispered, aghast. "Absolutely not-"

"Are your injuries the result of some kind of hazing ritual? Did these young men coerce you into participating?"

"Officer Kurosawa, please," her eyes were calm, but Kurosawa could hear the fear in her voice. "They've done nothing wrong-"

"Cut the shit."

Kurosawa's eyes were so ardently trained on the young lady that Shinjiro Aragaki's quiet voice almost caused him to blink. Kurosawa switched his target immediately, but still only just caught the protective flash in Aragaki's eyes before the young man's gaze waxed calm again.

"I'm rather hard of hearing," Kurosawa said in a voice which informed everyone that the policeman had heard Aragaki loud and clear. "Would you mind repeating that, son?"

"I said cut the shit, sir."

While his two accomplices paled and cringed in unison, Aragaki's pointed stare did not drift from Kurosawa's.

"Aragaki, is it? Do you have an issue with the question I've asked Miss Kirijo?" Kurosawa asked delicately.

"I have an issue with the way you've asked it."

"Please, continue."

The young man in question clicked his tongue and leaned forward onto his knees, as if debating a fine point at a dinner party.

"Not sure why a cop of all people is badgering an injured woman when two perfectly healthy thugs are available for interrogation."

"Thugs by comparison," Sanada added peevishly.

"I see," Kurosawa nodded as he leaned back easily in his chair and flexed his hands. "Then, since you're feeling chivalrous Aragaki, perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining how Miss Kirijo received her rather remarkable injury?"

Aragaki held his hands out, appearing genuinely at a loss.

"How the hell should I know how women get into these 'damsel in distress' situations?"

Kirijo was clenching her jaw, and an outsider might have guessed by the way her arms shook that the pain was becoming too much for her. A damsel in distress Kirijo was not, and he suspected Aragaki knew it. No, this kid was trying to divert the focus from Kirijo and take control of the situation, but he clearly had not run this tactic by Kirijo beforehand and getting in deep with the wrong heiress.

"You're not afraid of her?" Kurosawa asked, gesturing to Kirijo with his pen.

Aragaki paused, and then slowly smiled.

"Not as long as you're here."

"Sanada," Kurosawa tilted his head in the young man's direction. "Aragaki says Kirijo was a damsel in distress and Kirijo insists she worked alone. Which was it?"

"She. . ." Sanada stuttered, flustered by the sudden pressure. "I mean. . . she wasn't even supposed to be off the sidelines-"

"I object-" Kirijo snapped and beside her, Sanada turned a deeper shade of red. Aragaki made a wheezing noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and scoff.

Kurosawa rapped softly on his desk, commanding a restrained silence of his captive audience once again.

"Miss Kirijo stated that it was you and Aragaki who were in the way just a minute ago. Which is she, Sanada? Victim or perpetrator?"

"Well, I . . . " Sanada was getting wound up. "She saved Shinji's ass."

"By means of complete stupidity," Aragaki added.

"Excuse me," Kirijo's composed interjection sliced into the room. "You must forgive my classmates' impropriety. They seem to have forgotten that I am indeed still in this room and perfectly able to give an explanation without resorting to coarse language. As you have seen, they are certainly in no position to explain anything to anyone. I acted alone-"

Kurosawa shook his head, and began to explain that no one, refined language or not, had explained exactly what transpired on the Moonlight Bridge. He was cut off when Sanada's patience finally snapped.

"Jesus, will you give it up already? Officer Kurosawa just wants us to go around in circles until we leak the whole damn thing. That's what he's been working at this whole time."

"To be fair, I can't claim to have actually worked on any of you," Kurosawa shrugged. "In all my years of questioning suspects, I don't think I've ever seen the kind of sloppy corroboration that you three have displayed in the last seven minutes-"

"Mitsuru didn't do it alone, obviously," Sanada went on, puffing with exasperation. "All three of us are responsible; all three of us destroyed the bridge. Satisfied?"

A tense silence fell over the room for a moment as Kirijo fixed Sanada with a look of complete surprise.

"Kill joy," Aragaki threw in bitterly.

"Satisfied?" Kurosawa repeated as he reclined in his chair and crossed his arms. "Sure. Three eighteen year olds wiping out half of a fifty ton bridge makes much more sense than just one eighteen year old. Yes, I'm satisfied," Kurosawa tapped his pen lightly to his desk before continuing.

"But you'll still need to recount to Takeharu Kirijo why his daughter bled to death in my office from a knife wound."

"Officer Kurosawa, I'm hardly in mortal peril," Kirijo said indignantly, her face now matching her vibrant hair color.

"That won't happen. You wouldn't let it," Sanada responded flatly.

"Even so," Aragaki shrugged. "It's not our office."

A series of knocks shook Kurosawa's door, and the hardened officer of the law turned his head as he called out.

"What is it?"

"Sir," Officer Miwa entered and gave an abrupt nod. "Takeharu Kirijo has been contacted. He's on his way."

"Thank you, Officer Miwa," Kurosawa looked to Kirijo, who now had her eyes focused keenly on the bottom of Kurosawa's desk. The door slammed shut as Miwa exited, and Kirijo jumped in her seat.

"Is that guy . . . ah, what's his name? Isshin? He still drive for your old man?"

It took a moment for Kirijo to realize Kurosawa was addressing her, but when she did her dread-filled eyes once again came up against Kurosawa's unwavering gaze.

"Y-Yes, sir. . . I believe so-"

"Good God," Kurosawa chuckled gruffly as he neatly organized the loose papers into a small stack. "Guy's gotta be eighty by now. He still drive like a bat out of hell?"

"I-" Mitsuru paused. "Yes."

"Well, kids, here's where we're at," Kurosawa said as he began to turn the gears of his wristwatch. "If Takeharu Kirijo hurries, and he will, I'd say the three of you have about thirty minutes to explain why you were out past curfew, why you're taking responsibility for demolishing a bridge, and why some of you are bleeding on to my floor."

"And if we decide to play the quiet game, instead?" Aragaki countered softly.

"Then we sit, Kirijo bleeds, and in thirty minutes," Kurosawa solemnly removed his cap, "all four of us will be in seriously deep shit."

Sanada fidgeted slightly in his chair, looking first to Kirijo and then to Aragaki, and finally to Kurosawa before speaking.

"It's . . . a pretty incredible story, sir."

"What was it you said earlier, Aragaki?" Kurosawa let out a controlled exhale as he opened his desk drawer. Kirijo's eyes grew large as he withdrew the evidence bag, and Kurosawa watched her hand leave her bloodied arm and fumble at her hip.

"Ah, that's right. . ." The bag made a large thud as it knocked against Kurosawa's now empty desk. Inside the bag, a mid-sized gun gleamed in the early morning light.

"Cut the shit."

With the evidence staring them in the face, Sanada sighed, Kirijo's eyes became downcast, and Aragaki shrugged complacently.

"Okay," Aragaki said, a pleasant smile on his lips. "But don't say we didn't warn you."

Poison hides in plain sight.

Penthesilea's words nearly went right through her.

Mitsuru's breath hitched in her throat as she watched Castor's shadow eclipse Aragaki's silhouette. From her vantage point on the south side of the Moonlight Bridge, she watched the strange persona move along an even trajectory toward the Masked Maya before blowing into an exposure in the monster's armor. Castor's gracefully brutal attack left the shadow screeching, but Mitsuru did not see victory. Instead her eyes were fixated on the Maya's dozens of hands, each one armed with a needle thin sword. Castor vanished, and Mitsuru could read the strange intoxicating effect that his attack had left on Aragaki.

"Aragaki, you are too close. Disengage while Sanada finishes the attack-"

On cue, Polydeuces emerged from behind the shadow with a blasting Sonic Fist. Mitsuru cringed as the attack missed and hit the north side of the bridge, spraying both Sanada and Aragaki with a wave of concrete. The scene before her was enveloped in a plume of gray, and for a few terrifying moments, Mitsuru heard only static.

"Did I hit him?!" Sanada's energized voice chimed in over the communicator.

Mitsuru did not respond, the fury in her throat mixing with a wave of relief as she sent Penthesilea scouting through the settling debris. When the armored queen returned, she relayed that a large stretch of wall had been blown clean out, exposing a sheer drop down to the water just inches away from where Sanada stood. Mitsuru bit back her rage and attempted communication once she spotted Sanada's figure rising from the ground.

"Negative, keep right and stay away from the-"

"Oh shit."

Sanada's back was turned to the enemy.

"Was that me?"

"Concentrate, Sanada. Attack again while the shadow is confused. You have to do it now," Mitsuru repeated into her communicator sternly, her eyes searching desperately for Aragaki. She found him, now bruised and bloodied from explosion of concrete, but still unmoved from his stance.

"Aragaki, you are too close. Get out of range and-"

The voice of Castor and the sound of blood rushing against his ears are indistinguishable to him. You must act now.

Mitsuru removed her evoker from her hip upon hearing Penthesilea's diagnosis and her eyes returned to Sanada, who was dancing around the Maya as if though it were a punching bag.

"Proceed with extreme caution," she said, abandoning her equipment and hastily making her way toward the two young men. "Those blades are poisonous. I repeat, remain clear of the Maya's blades."

Had she spared one last look up at Sanada, she might have seen that her warning had been drowned in the noise of his beating fists.

. . . Afraid . . .

"Aragaki!"

A shot was fired.

. . . Be afraid . . .

Still, he was rooted to the ground.

Don't . . .

"Aragaki!"

Every time Castor's voice slipped into his mind, something else in him froze. He knew he had to move, but even the threat of imminent death couldn't pull his feet from the ground.

DON'T BE AFRAID

"Shinjiro, move!"

He blinked, and a flash of red sailed before him just as one of the shadow's swords fell. Her blade fell to the ground in two pieces, and Mitsuru stepped back quickly before casting an ice spell. The Masked Maya recoiled at the freezing blow, and from the other side of the fight, Shinjiro could hear Akihiko summoning Polydeuces.

Quickly, Shinjiro found his evoker and went to unload a string of profanities at his self-appointed savior when he saw Mitsuru shudder. He lunged forward just as she fell back. He drew his arms around her and pulled her against him as he carefully deliberated how to phrase his next few words.

"You dumb fuck."

"Really, Aragaki," he could feel her gasp for air against his chest. "Your language is reprehensible."

In the distance, Shinjiro listened as Akihiko summoned again.

He lowered her to the ground carefully, his hands shaking with rage.

"What the hell was that?!" Shinjiro barked as he gently slipped his hands through her hair and cupped her head. "You really think that weak shit could kill me!?"

She responded with a grinding exhale as she placed a protective hand against her collarbone where a bloody line spilled onto her left arm. Shinjiro knit his brow, his eyes lingering on the laceration as it bloomed from red to black against Mitsuru's skin. Shinjiro frantically searched out Mitsuru's eyes for an answer, but stopped at her lips which now carried a sinister purple hue. She choked and began to cough.

"What've you done?" he whispered.

Akihiko leaned down and wiped the sweat from his brow as soon as he saw Castor rise above the shadow's head. After delivering a swift attack to the shadow, the dark persona disappeared. Akihiko had a few moments to spare while the Maya geared up for it's next assault.

"Shinji, what the hell was that? Why didn't you attack-"

"You need to get over here."

"What hap-"

"The General's down. Get over here, now."

Akihiko turned sharply toward Mitsuru's post on the south end of the bridge. Her motorcycle stood abandoned. Akihiko snarled at the Maya as it began to pull itself back up on it's haunches. He sent Polydeuces at the shadow with Zio and went barreling through the shadow's legs, dodging the blades as he went. As he approached, he saw the extent of the damage the Maya's blade had wrought on Mitsuru. Crouched beside her was Shinjiro, who had removed his coat and had deployed it as a makeshift cushion behind her head.

"Hang in there, Mitsuru-san," Akihiko murmured, kneeling down beside Shinjiro and summoning his persona's healing abilities. Mitsuru watched Polydeuces ascend and shook her head weakly. Akihiko creased his brow at Mitsuru's expression of pain as Dia sank into her wound.

"It's not working," he murmured, holding his hands out above their fallen leader in quiet desperation.

He tried again, and again Mitsuru shook her head and cringed as the healing spell held the opposite effect.

"It's not working," Akihiko repeated, looking to Shinjiro. "Why isn't it working?"

"Switch me out," Shinjiro replied, his eyes locked on the Masked Maya as it began to advance toward them. He met Akihiko's incredulous look with a grim nod.

"I can't help anyone here, but I can buy you some time to figure this out."

Akihiko watched as his friend silently stood up, found his ax, and marched over to the Masked Maya. When he was just inches away from the shadow's deadly limbs, he began heaving and waving his ax about, littering the ground with severed arms. Akihiko looked back down to Mitsuru, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Mitsuru-san," he said as he leaned over her and and clasped her hand in his. "I'm sorry, I. . . I didn't listen to you earlier. I don't know why the healing spell isn't working but if you could just give me a hint or a tip or-"

Akihiko was cut off abruptly when Mitsuru grasped him by his collar and pulled him in.

". . . ison. . ."

Akihiko shook his head.

"I don't und-"

"Poison," she whispered before falling back to the ground. Akihiko sat back, bewildered, and Mitsuru's head fell limply to her side.

"Shit," Akihiko exclaimed, jumping up. "Shinji, it's poison, the blades must be poisoned, so stay away from the-"

Akihiko's communicator relayed the explosive sound of an evoker firing, and then his friend's biting voice.

"Great. So what about the ones who didn't stay away from the blades?"

"Uh, didn't get that far. . ." Akihiko turned back to Mitsuru's unconscious form. "But there's no way she'd bring us into a fight unprepared. She must have brought an antidote, just in case something like this happened. Right?"

A flood of noises filled Akihiko's ears, and when he looked up he saw Shinjiro blasting the limbs from the Masked Maya as if he were removing branches from a tree.

He just had to think. If Mitsuru had indeed brought along any emergency items, they would surely be too numerous to carry all at once. He looked over to her motorcycle and spotted a dark brown satchel slung over the handlebars.

"I'm making a break for it, Shinji. Cover me!"

Shinjiro had less than a second to process Akihiko's statement before the shadow wound up for a a heavy strike. Shinjiro heaved his ax over his shoulder before sending it through a wide arc into the Maya's iron mask. The Maya let out a furious shriek as it retaliated at Shinjiro with a roaring Agilao spell. He fell back and his weapon was knocked from his grip. He rolled over onto his stomach, silently writhing in pain.

His head spinning, Shinjiro arched his neck and discovered that he was laying directly where the bridge wall had been just minutes ago. Thanks to Akihiko, there was a only an inch between him and a harrowing plunge into the water below. He could fall, and if that didn't kill him he would certainly drown. Paralyzed with fear, Shinjiro was unseeing of the monster looming behind him.

Breathe.

She pulled in a ragged breath before turning over on her side. Immediately, she moaned in pain as the deep laceration on her chest and arm brushed against the cold ground. Her head was throbbing and her eyes were struggling to find a steady object to focus on. Moments ago, the clashing sounds of Aragaki's attacks mingling with the shadow's counter attacks had fallen silent, and the only thing that mattered now was acting.

Summon me, and it very well may be the last thing you ever do.

Mitsuru saw the shadow lift its remaining arms high over it's mask and without drawing another breath, pushed the evoker to her temple and fired.

While rummaging frantically through the brown satchel full of oddly shaped bottles and vials, Akihiko was suddenly bombarded with the violent sounds of a struggle. Akihiko froze as he watched the heinous Masked Maya stagger back toward his position beside the retaining wall of the Moonlight Bridge.

You should move.

Akihiko looked down at the contents of the satchel, at least a dozen more little bottles of liquid still unidentified.

Sooner rather than later.

"I've got a better idea," he growled, throwing the satchel over his shoulder and swinging his legs over the bike.

THAT'S NOT YOURS!

Akihiko rammed the edge of his evoker to his head as he turned the ignition of the motorcycle.

"Polydeuces!"

Akihiko revved the engine and sped away just as the godly persona emerged, arms curling over his head as he launched into the Masked Maya. Polydeuces intercepted the odious beast as it rolled toward the retaining wall, and with a terrible crash they collided into the stone barricade. His persona's attack hit a soft spot, and even after Polydeuces had vanished, the Masked Maya stayed down. Just as Akihiko was deliberating turning around and finishing the job, Castor soared overhead and slammed into the Maya with a punishing slash. A quick look over, and Akhiko spotted Shinjiro, standing tall next to the edge of the bridge. Akihiko swung the bike to a stop and rushed to Mitsuru's side as he tipped the bag upside down and began rummaging through the bottles. At last, he found a small vial with a strange purple liquid.

"Dis-poison. This must be it, hang in there, Mitsuru-san."

Gently, Akihiko lifted Mitsuru's head on to his lap and tipped the bottle to her lips.

I sort of made a mess.

No cars or coffins, right? How mad can she be?

Sure you wanna find out?

The last drop of the potion escaped the bottle, and the ailing leader opened her eyes.

Shinjiro watched from afar as Castor pulled off the Maya's last remaining arm before driving his lance between its eyes. The shadow dissipated, and all that remained was a pile of rubble. He turned away, head and body aching, but feeling somehow tranquil with Castor back in his mind. He turned back to the other members of his team and saw them both collapsed on the ground. With a slew of dreadful possibilities running through his mind, Shinjiro hurried back only to find Mitsuru propped up on one arm, and Akihiko blue and shivering on the ground.

"Hey," Shinjiro remarked, looking Mitsuru over. "You look a lot better, Aki must have found the-"

"Let this be a lesson to you as well," she interrupted him as she pushed her evoker to her forehead. "Don't you ever ignore my warnings again."

He found himself suddenly encased in a block of ice, and in seconds it had broken apart, leaving him frozen head to toe. He tipped over and the last image that his brain captured was Mitsuru, gently lowering her head down to rest on her arm.

When Aragaki finished his account, Kurosawa only paused for a moment before reaching over to his phone and pushing the call button.

"Officer Miwa, I'm sending Miss Kirijo out. Please show her to the first aid room," Kurosawa met Kirijo's surprised expression and gestured toward the door.

"That is, if you'd prefer to clean up a bit before seeing your father."

Kirijo's expression relaxed slightly, and Kurosawa's kind eyes seemed to have convinced her that it was all right to leave. She stood up shakily, not noticing Sanada's hands reflexively reaching up to support her should she fall. Kirijo strode calmly to the door, but the expression of deep concern on her face was clear as she looked back to Sanada and Aragaki.

Aragaki crossed his arms, unimpressed while Sanada offered her a lame thumbs up and a half smile in an attempt at reassurance.

"On your way," Kurosawa said lowly.

The door shut quietly, and Kurosawa exhaled softly as he spread two pieces of paper out before him and began to furiously write.

"That was very kind of you, sir," Sanada commented after a tense moment of silence filled only with the sound of a scratching pen.

"You're welcome," Kurosawa responded gruffly, not looking up.

". . . E-Excuse me?" Sanada stammered.

"Mitsuru's just been appointed to damage control," Aragaki said, licking his lips and eyeing Kurosawa "If her old man sees she's in better shape than you or I, he's less likely to dismantle S.E.E.S. and we're less likely to show up in a ravine three months from now."

"Takeharu Kirijo wouldn't toss your bodies into a ravine, son. He pays people to do that for him."

"I'm sorry, what's happening?" Sanada asked bemusedly.

"Officer Kurosawa seems to be intervening on behalf of our cult," Aragaki answered, still not looking away from Kurosawa.

"Extra-curricular club," Kurosawa corrected, moistening his finger before turning the page of his portfolio.

"I know how young people like to embellish and brag about their participation in cults. To an officer of the law however, you're reporting that your student organization was out sparring past curfew and you got a little carried away. Specifically-" Kurosawa's finger pointed first to Aragaki before he thought better of it and shook his head.

"You," Kurosawa directed his finger to Sanada, "got carried away and gave Miss Kirijo her injury."

"Me?!" Sanada launched up from his seat, fuming. "Why me?! I'd never lay a hand on her-"

"He does have extreme gynophobia, it's true."

"God, shut up-" Sanada turned back to the grinning Aragaki, who gave Sanada's arm a jerk and roughly re-seated him.

Kurosawa looked at them both squarely, certain that neither of them could see the distant twinkle of amusement in his eyes from where they were seated. He inhaled slowly before going on.

"Let me ask you something, then. Which one of you would be fast enough to land a hit to a fencer who's currently competing on the international circuit?"

The room was still with silence after Kurosawa posed his question and after a tense moment Sanada let out a small defeated sigh while Aragaki smacked his lips in resignation. Kurosawa pressed his hands to his desk and scooted forward in his chair.

"That's what I thought. According to Aragaki, both you and Kirijo were sparring with rapiers when you both became competitive. Things escalated and Aragaki intervened. I will note, Sanada, that you expressed extreme remorse and apologized to Miss Kirijo. Any questions so far?"

Both of them shook their heads, Sanada still looking rather put out. Kurosawa looked back to his writing and continued.

"You're reporting that a vehicle of unknown size, piloted by a drunk driver, then drove through and clipped your group. As you tried to get out of its path, you were thrown into oncoming traffic. Narrowly escaping death, you did not regain consciousness until the on-duty officer arrived on the scene. Your club's adult supervisor, which of course you are legally required to have. . ."

"-Chairman Ikutski," Sanada rushed in.

". . . Was notified."

"And our 'guns'?" Sanada pressed.

"There were no guns found at the scene," Kurosawa said plainly. "Remember?"

"Why are you doing this?" Aragaki cut in softly.

"Doing what?" Kurosawa asked lightly as his pen excitedly traveled on the portfolio of papers before him. Aragaki glared at him indifferently while Sanada fidgeted in his seat.

"You sound like you're letting us go," Sanada suggested.

"Weren't you paying attention? There's no evidence to keep you here."

"Then what's the catch?" Aragaki pushed back.

Kurosawa bared his teeth in an endeavor to comfort the two young men before him. His attempt at a smile had the opposite effect and they both shrank back in their seats.

"I'm going to let you in on a secret. As a policeman, you learn pretty quickly that the most dangerous criminals live in the shadows. They are the shadows . . . so to speak," Aragaki and Sanada shared a look and Kurosawa went on.

"So, how can I fight what I can't see?"

". . .O-Officer?"

"My job is to protect this city, and if for some reason I can't do my job, then I have to find other means to keep my city safe. Do you understand?"

"Are you . . . " Sanada rolled his eyes back contemplatively as he spoke. "Are you asking us to use our pers-"

"That reminds me," Kurosawa's voice escalated for the first time during their interview as he looked tranquilly back at Sanada. "Do you two know what a vigilante is?"

"Vigilante?" Aragaki repeated.

"One who takes or advocates the taking of law enforcement into one's own hands. Sound like a bad thing?"

"Yes, sir," Sanada replied instantly, and Kurosawa could easily locate the smile trembling below his expression.

"Very bad, sir," Aragaki agreed gravely.

Kurosawa shut his portfolio with a sharp snap.

"Good. The Port Island Police will continue investigating the crime scene, but as far as I'm concerned, the damages on the bridge are officially considered an act of God. There are no charges to press at this time or any reasonable evidence that you three directly caused any of the damages reported. You three are officially not considered persons of interest, this interview has officially been a waste of my time and I am officially warning you to abide by the midnight curfew for persons under eighteen or I will officially throw your asses in jail. Any questions?"

"Nope," Aragaki grinned.

"Now," Kurosawa cleared his throat. "Upon leaving this office, you will overhear a discussion between me and another officer regarding the scheduled arrival of a shipment of seized weapons. Since Port Island is the only city with a certificate to destroy dangerous and hazardous materials, we typically receive a large shipment of contraband weapons every few weeks. I am in charge of overseeing the destruction of these materials on the following Friday afternoon."

"The following Friday afternoon?"

"I transfer them to a holding station at Paulownia Mall. I'm usually the only one there between three and five. Now, let me make myself very clear: If I see any of you with any of the kind of weapons I've mentioned at any place at any time, I will disavow any connection you claim and will not hesitate to seek the maximum penalty associated with carrying illegal weapons. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Sanada said cheerfully.

Aragaki raised his hand.

"Can I get a new ax now?"

When she opened her eyes, she felt as though she had been dreaming for years. She looked up and saw that the sky had been cleared of clouds and a deep azure had filled every patch. She sat up and stretched her arms out, and found that he had placed his coat behind her head. He was standing next to her, the orb at his feet. She looked at it for a moment before picking it up in her hands. The glass ball had been drained of its black color and now the strange object was nothing but a clear glass sphere.

"Hey," he said, turning around and offering her his hand. She accepted it and stood, showing him the transformed orb.

"The first execution was definitely the most painful," he said at last.

She smiled.

"Perhaps I was too harsh."

"Nah," he shook his head, drawing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his embrace. "We deserved it."

Together they stood, looking down at Shinjiro's resting place.

"Let's defeat Nyx," Mitsuru murmured. "For him."

"Yeah," He drew a deep breath in, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "For all of us."