Chapter 5; Some truths

...25/07/2009 Saturday; Morning...

The annoying sound of the alarm clock echoed through the room, forcing Hiro to stir in bed.

With his eyes still closed, he reached out toward the noisy device.

"Shut up. Damn thing," he mumbled irritably, his voice still sleepy.

In a sudden motion, Hiro smacked the alarm clock hard.

The sound of something breaking filled the room, followed by a hole in the headboard. Hiro's eyes widened as he saw what he’d done.

"Uh… Guess I used too much force," he muttered, looking at the now-cracked alarm clock.

He scratched his head, resigned, and got out of bed, taking in the new room around him.

"Pretty comfortable here, actually. Well, time to get ready," he said to himself, heading to the closet to grab his clothes and prepare for class.

Days passed, and a regular routine settled in.

The group continued their school lives during the day, while at night, during the Dark Hour, they became fighters, climbing further up the levels of Tartarus.

...28/07/2009 Tuesday; Midday...

It was lunchtime, and the school's hallways were packed with students talking and moving from one side to the other.

In the student council room, Mitsuru was focused, reading through complaint documents, one of them concerning a student caught smoking on school grounds.

A knock on the door echoed through the room, making Mitsuru look up from the papers.

"Come in," she said, placing the document back on the desk.

The door opened, revealing Hiro, who entered with a casual expression, finishing off a juice.

He tossed the empty bottle into the trash by the door and wiped his mouth.

"Your vice president nearly took my head off, just to tell me you wanted to talk. So, what's up?" Hiro asked, straightforward as always.

Mitsuru stood, maintaining her composure. "Mikoshi, I wanted to talk about something you mentioned during the Dark Hour, the first time we went to Tartarus."

Hiro shut the door and crossed his arms, looking at her with curiosity. "Right, I remember. Here to scold me about the boxing club incident?"

Mitsuru shook her head. "No, it’s… something else."

Hiro noticed the hint of hesitation in her expression, a rare sight, as if she were mulling over something he’d said before.

A small pang of guilt crept into his chest, realizing he might have hurt her with his words.

"Ah, I… I hurt you, didn’t I?" he asked, somewhat awkwardly.

Surprised, Mitsuru quickly responded, "What? No, that’s not it."

She walked around the desk and approached him, stopping just in front of him.

With her gaze lowered, she seemed to be wrestling with her emotions.

"When you said that… back then, I didn’t say anything. But after thinking it over…" Mitsuru looked away, resting a hand on her arm.

"You don’t have everything?" Hiro’s tone softened, sensing there was more behind her words.

Mitsuru closed her eyes as if searching for the strength to continue. "No. When you said that you'd never received anything and that it made you different from me… you were wrong."

Finally, she looked up at Hiro, her gaze mixed with uncertainty and vulnerability. "Even though I was born into a wealthy family, one of the world’s biggest companies, the Kirijo Group, I don’t… I don’t gain anything from it. I struggle to make my father proud and to protect him. But all I receive in return is a simple ‘Good job.’"

Hiro was taken aback by her confession.

The memory of his own father, who had abandoned him as a child, flashed through his mind.

"At least you have a reason to fight," Hiro muttered under his breath, but Mitsuru didn’t catch it.

"What was that?" she asked, puzzled.

He opened his eyes and, after a sigh, replied more clearly. "Look, Mitsuru. Maybe I said something that bothered you, and I’m sorry for that. But you don’t need to explain yourself. We each have our reasons, our goals, and our inner demons."

Mitsuru was taken aback by Hiro’s sincerity, but before she could respond, he continued.

"If your reason for fighting is to protect your father, then hold on to that. Don’t let a few words get in the way of your goal."

He placed a firm and encouraging hand on her shoulder. "You’re our leader. Don’t let yourself get weighed down."

The bell for the next class rang, breaking the silence in the room.

"Well, guess we should head back to class," Hiro suggested, looking upward.

Mitsuru nodded, a calm smile forming on her lips. "Yes, you’re right. Thank you for listening."

Hiro turned toward the door. "Don’t mention it. Sometimes, it’s good to get things off your chest."

Just as he was about to leave, Mitsuru turned back to her desk but paused.

"Mikoshi, may I ask you something?" she said, still facing away from him.

Hiro stopped and turned toward her. "Go ahead."

She thought for a moment before turning to face him. "What’s your reason for fighting?"

The question caught Hiro off guard, and he looked aside, momentarily lost.

Then he turned back to Mitsuru with a faint, uncertain smile.

"I have no idea," he answered, shrugging.

The two stared at each other for a brief moment, as if each were trying to understand what was going on in the other’s mind.

"Maybe I’ll find one someday. Oh, and just call me Hiro. No need for all this formality," he added, looking her straight in the eyes with a rare, gentle smile.

Mitsuru was surprised by his sudden informality, but before she could reply, Hiro stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Left alone, Mitsuru smiled softly to herself. "I see… I’ll remember that, Hiro."

...??/??/2009 ????; Dark Hour...

A man awakens amidst darkness, eyes wide open, mind clouded with confusion.

He looks around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

The streets he once knew are now lined with closed coffins, arranged as if awaiting some grim ritual.

"What is this place? Why are the streets filled with coffins?" he mutters, his voice trembling with fear.

Suddenly, a metallic, heavy sound breaks the silence.

Something stirs in the shadows of a nearby alley, accompanied by mechanical clatters that reverberate through the air.

"Ah, Justice and the War Chariot are awake," a cold, impassive voice echoes from the darkness.

The man jumps, turning toward the source of the sound. "Who's there?" he yells, desperation evident in his voice.

Three figures emerge from the darkness, each exuding an aura of menace. Two men and a young woman approach him slowly.

The first, a man with silver hair tied back with a dark cable, has piercing yellow eyes.

His casual attire, bare chest, and relaxed posture clash with his cold, calculating stare.

This is Takaya Sakaki, leader of a group who use the Dark Hour to carry out assassination contracts.

Both of his hands are raised to the sky, and a 0.500 caliber magnum revolver is holstered at his waist.

The second figure is a young girl, Chidori Yoshino.

Her long red hair cascades over her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes hold a distant, emotionless look.

She wears a black headband adorned with white frills and a fake dagger, giving the impression that her head is impaled.

She’s dressed in a gothic lolita style: a white high-collar dress, white stockings, and high-heeled shoes.

Her empty gaze sends chills down the spine of anyone who dares to meet it.

The third, a man in a green coat and orange-tinted glasses, Jin Shirato, watches with analytical detachment, as if calculating every move and consequence, while he carries a silver briefcase.

"You…? I… I didn’t do anything! I did what you asked," the man stammers, his voice overflowing with desperation as he tries to justify himself.

Takaya stops, his icy gaze fixed on the man. "Yes, you did. But that doesn’t mean you’re free. You were chosen to surrender your will to them."

Fear overwhelms the man, and he tries to rise, desperate to flee.

Yet before he can take a step, an icy, unyielding hand grips his shoulder, holding him in place.

"Medea, no need to reap him. Takaya hasn’t given the order," Chidori says, her voice monotone and devoid of emotion.

Her Persona, Medea, vanishes, leaving the man unrestrained but still paralyzed by terror.

"Please, I’ll do anything," he begs, his eyes pleading for mercy.

Jin, narrowing his eyes, regards the man with contempt. "Anything?" he echoes, before turning to Takaya. "What’s the plan?"

Takaya had drawn his revolver, ready to shoot the man in the leg, but after Chidori’s intervention, he reconsiders and holsters the weapon.

"Stand where you are," Takaya commands, raising his arms as if giving a final order.

"W-What do you mean?" the man asks, his voice shaky with fear and confusion.

Suddenly, a deafening blast fills the air.

A cannonball, emerging from somewhere in the shadows, strikes the man from behind, ripping him in two.

His torso and legs are separated with brutal force, and his innards spill onto the ground as he screams in agony.

"It hurts! It hurts! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!" the man shrieks, his voice descending into a desperate, agonized wail.

The mechanical sound intensifies, and from the mist that cloaks the street, a Shadow in the form of a tank emerges, moving with deadly intent.

Takaya begins to laugh, a chilling, soulless sound, while Chidori and Jin watch the scene with detached attention.

"Behold two of the Major Arcana. Surrender your soul to their will!" Takaya declares, as if introducing the man to his grim fate.

The sound of the cannon reloading fills the air, and in an instant, another shot rings out, echoing through the alley during the Dark Hour.

The tank, merciless, finishes the job, obliterating what remains of the man.

His screams are silenced, leaving only the heavy rumble of the tank retreating into the mist.

No one, except those present, has the faintest idea that a mechanical monster prowls, hidden in the darkness of the Dark Hour.

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