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He just couldn't do it.
Ken Amada curled his hands into his hair, and let his forehead thunk onto his knees. He had tucked himself into the far corner of his bed, where the side met the wall, back pressed against the headboard like it would stop him falling through the brick and onto the street below. He had been unsuccessfully trying to stop the tears flowing through his eyes, squeezing them shut super-tight, and trying to plan ahead to calm himself down. He had thought he was good at that, since Minato-senpai had been giving him tips on how to be a leader, but he supposed this was just another thing he failed to think through properly.
He did have a plan, but apparently it wasn't a very good one, because one tiny interaction had made the whole house of cards collapse, and now he didn't think he knew anything at all, his world shaken at the very foundation. His original plan was to confront the man (teenager) who had killed his mother and ruined his life on the anniversary of her murder, October 4th. In this plan, he would explain the torture thrust upon him, and the justice his very core screamed to enact. He would drive his spear through Aragaki's heart. Eye for an eye, wasn't that the phrase?
And, once his life's only goal had been completed, he would impale himself next, and go back to his mother.
He didn't really like being alive very much. The only person nine-year-old Ken had cared about at all was his mother. She was perfect in every conceivable way, and loved him like only she could. She would cut and style his hair for him, and in return he would braid hers, and it probably looked horrible but she wore it to work every time. She taught him how to bake cookies when it was too rainy to go to the park, and even let him sneak chocolate chips whenever he wanted. She bought him his Featherman comics, even if she didn't understand them - she would always kiss his forehead after, and say, "Anything on this planet for my little angel". And then they would laugh together, and maybe watch a movie, or she would sit with him and sing lullabies until he slept, because he was afraid of the dark and they couldn't afford to keep the electricity on all night.
Then it was October, and he went downstairs for a drink of water in the dead of night, and his house collapsed on top of him.
He saw the monster, and the boy. Watched the thing impale his mama, right through her chest. Heard her screaming. She pushed him out of some falling rubble's path. Even with the hole in her chest. She was painted red. And he was trapped under the brick, with his mother's corpse.
He remembers begging her to wake up, and refusing to try to dig himself out, even though it was very dark, and he was very, very afraid. He screamed, for a long time. Tried to make her stand, to escape with him, but the rubble pinned her down. He was coated in the warm, sticky stuff that flooded from her chest. She was cold and stiff, and the sun was on the horizon, when they dragged him away from her, and into that awful police station with the horrible officer. He had wanted nothing more than to throw himself from the nearest rooftop to be with her again right then and there, because then maybe everything could go back to slow August nights in her warm embrace, and she would wipe his tears away and braid his hair, and maybe he could braid hers, too.
But then he remembered, he couldn't. Not yet, not when her killer was still walking free, that evil, wicked monster, controlled by the guy in the burgundy coat. His mother would be disappointed if he didn't even try to avenge her, of course she would, and she would be so upset if he had died for no reason. So, he resolved to give himself a reason.
Find her killer, and enact justice. Then he could be a son to be proud of, and he could hug her tight again.
When she was alive, he was another happy, smiling child. And then she died, and everything was worse. So, he had to die too. To see her again.
It made sense at the time, and it still made sense now. Even more sense, perhaps, since Nemesis had settled into his psyche, burrowing her fingers into his neurons, and thrumming with that same desire that drove his heart to beat. Justice, revenge, it was the same thing. The exact same thing. The police had refused to help him, his social worker tried to have him diagnosed with trauma-induced psychosis, and no adult in his life seemed to want the best for him, anymore. Not since his mother.
But, now...
He couldn't believe he had the nerve to be doubting himself, not at the last hurdle - he had waited two whole years to see her again, he wasn't going to throw that away anytime soon.
The revelation had happened slowly, and then all at once.
They had all come traipsing back from Tartarus, earlier in the night, a little exhausted but all healthy, not even a bruise to show for the brutal fighting they had done earlier. Ken was almost proud to say it was him who was on the front lines, the designated healer, except it had been with Aragaki, and Sanada-senpai. It was a shame he liked Sanada-senpai so much, because for some inexplicable reason, that man seemed to care a lot about his mother's murderer.
Sanada-senpai hadn't exactly been making it a secret that those two were close friends, but being on a team with only them and Minato-san, it was a lot more obvious. They supported each-other when they fell, and moved almost in sync, but not quite. Their bickering might have been quite a nice background noise, if one of them didn't make Nemesis shriek in his head every time he spoke.
But then Aragaki went down, after a heavy hit. He didn't use his Persona much at all, not that Ken had seen. Minato-san had ordered for a Diarama, which... whatever, fine.
He pressed the warm gunmetal of the Evoker to the center of his forehead, called forth his other self. Said the spell out loud, even. "Diarama."
She did not perform Diarama on Aragaki. She instead tried to perform Kougaon.
He wasn't sure if it was lucky or unlucky that Minato-san had swapped to a light-resistant Persona and leapt in front of the blow, but it made him feel something big, and complex, right in the center of his chest. Nemesis screamed for the whole party to hear, the harsh sound of metal against metal, and he dropped the Evoker, and she retreated to his chest.
The fight ended, eventually, and Aragaki was handed some medicine that made the cut on his eyebrow vanish into nothing. Fuuka-san suggested Ken was just overtired from too many late night trips. Nemesis roared her displeasure, but Ken took the olive branch for what it was, and prayed nobody would ask him any big questions tonight.
It happened after. When everyone got back to the dorm, and all went to go collapse on their beds. Koro-chan took the sofa instead, and nobody had the heart to make him get down, so Yukari-san instead promised to clean the fur in the morning, and they had separated.
Aragaki and Sanada-senpai were in the kitchen.
Ken wasn't eavesdropping very obviously, so he couldn't really hear what they were saying. But he could see Sanada-senpai heating some leftovers over the stove, even though he wasn't really a cook, Aragaki slumped over a chair.
He fed Aragaki the leftovers, and from this distance, Ken could see both men's hands were trembling.
Sanada-senpai looked so sad. He wrapped Aragaki in a tight hug, and Ken felt his soul leave his body a little as he saw Sanada-san's hand wrap tight around the back of Aragaki's neck, petting at his hair, shaking apart in eachother's arms.
His mother used to hold his head like that, too.
He took off upstairs, not particularly caring if they saw him leave, and threw himself against the corner of his bed, and he knew he couldn't go through with this.
He couldn't be the monster to take away someone's best friend. Especially not Sanada-san, who he looked up to. It would break him cleanly in half, he was sure.
He took your best friend, Nemesis whispered, the tone harsh against his eardrums. Your only friend. She was your whole entire world for nine years, and he took her away. You have to take justice for your mother, there's nobody else who will.
He knew that he had to, really, but the thought made him feel more than a little sick, and he gripped his hair tighter.
Every other member of S.E.E.S. seemed to really like Aragaki, especially those he already had history with, like the other third-years. But the second-years looked up to him a lot, and made it obvious. Loudly.
They seemed to care at least a little bit about Ken, too.
Yukari-san had been the one who offered to trim his hair for him, when he first moved to the dorm, but it reminded him so much of his mother's gentle care that he had barricaded himself into his room for a couple of nights, working up the courage to accept her offer. He did, eventually, and it wasn't really comparable to his mother, because Yukari-san seemed to know what she was doing, and had the whole thing over with in 10 minutes. She had ruffled his hair when he hopped off the stool, and commented on how nice it was so finally see his eyes under that mop.
Kotone-san was really nice, too. She was the one who first caught him watching Featherman, and instead of the teasing he was sure would follow, she instead sat down to watch it with him, commenting on certain aspects that had Ken lighting up like a kid in a candy store. He was fairly certain it was a trick to make him start rambling, and therefore open up more, but he didn't mind so much if it was Kotone-san, because she was just so good to him about it.
Her brother and co-leader was more difficult to figure out, but he let Ken test out his coffee on him, so he was alright too, in his books.
Junpei-san was really loud, and really weird, but he was trying to get along with everyone extremely hard, so Ken felt a little bad for him. He hadn't thought high-schoolers could still use puppy-dog eyes, but apparently they could, because Junpei-san used this dirty trick to make him go out and play sports with him. Soccer at first, because that was what Ken was best at, but then Junpei-san decided to try and teach him baseball, which didn't go as badly as he thought it would at all. Junpei-san even bought him both a ball and a bat, currently stored under his bed, so they could practice whenever.
Aigis-san was weird, because she wasn't the same as the others, because she was a robot. But she was still a nice girl. She had even won him this stuffed plush that looked a little bit like a darker version of Koromaru at a fair. She didn't give one to anyone else, just him. At first he was super offended, because stuffed animals were so childish, and he didn't own any before that (that could be salvaged) and it had made him feel mature, like someone who could be taken seriously. But the plush was nice. And soft. He would rather die than tell anyone, but he accidentally fell into the habit of cuddling it to sleep, because the fur was lovely and soft, and whenever he woke up from a nightmare, it helped him remember where he was. He was getting attached to the stupid kid's toy, but couldn't find it in himself to get rid of a gift, so he didn't.
He reached out to grab it now, and instead of tugging at the hair near his ears, he squeezed it in a death grip with both arms, burrowing his eyes into the soft fur. His knees were wet and sticky with tears, and although he didn't want to ruin the plush's fur, he had already cried on it before, so he supposed it was fine.
Mitsuru-senpai had seemed really cold and distant at first, and she still was a little bit scary because of it, but he also thought she seemed a lot more... human, now, than when he first met her. It might be because of how she was raised, but she always seemed untouchable, on her throne of ice, like she didn't like spending time with others, and they didn't like to speak to her. But Ken found out that wasn't the truth. She was really quite a compassionate person, despite his first impressions. She even bought him glow-in-the-dark stars for his room, and a lamp in the shape of a cat, which was a little bit weird, but kind of sweet. She had also bought him a scarf, and a new blanket, and all kinds of things he didn't know what to do with, but it was a sweet gesture that she had apparently tried with everyone. Ken liked the stars, and the lamp, even though he wasn't a cat person. They were nice and bright, and he could keep them on as long as he wanted - plus it was a very kind idea, to gift him something out of her own free will.
He hadn't had much of an impression for Fuuka-san, except that she was timid and quiet, but willing to do anything she had to to keep her friends safe. He admired that about her, the soft tenacity, the willpower. The two of them didn't have a whole lot in common, but the last time he saw her reading on the second-floor couch, she waved him over to sit next to him, and showed him the sci-fi book she was reading. It was really cool, with aliens and robots and robot aliens, and it was very silly. But fun. He couldn't always keep up the same speed as her, and when she tried to read it out to him, he felt more than a little infantilised. But it was kind of nice, to be read to, and he had fallen asleep against her shoulder once or twice. The mortification when he woke up was like being dunked into an ice-cold bath, but she never mentioned it, and was careful when she woke him up to go to his own bed.
That part reminded him of Sanada-san. He had looked up to him ever since he realized they were in the same dorm, the star boxer who never lost a fight. He was incredibly socially awkward, and sometimes Ken couldn't stifle his giggles when he said something wrong or out of place, but he looked out for Ken for some reason, always the first person to ask if he'd eaten yet, or to tell him it was getting late, and he should make sure he's well-rested enough for the next fight. Once, Ken had sprained his ankle in Tartarus and run out of energy to heal it himself, so Sanada-san gave him a piggy back ride all the way to the entrance, so Yukari-san could heal him. He was still so exhausted though, swaying on his feet, but refusing the Mad-Bull Minato-san had tried to give him, because he didn't want all the caffeine and whatever other chemicals to stunt his growth. Sanada-san didn't say anything, just crouched down, and carried him again. Ken felt silly, like a weird human backpack, or a koala wrapped around a branch, but it was really nice to be taken care of. He must have fallen asleep with his head between Sanada-san's shoulder blades, listening to his steady breathing as he brought him back home to the dorms. He remembers waking up after, tucked into bed, with a glass of water on his bedside table.
That last memory cemented what he knew, now, to be fact. He couldn't kill Aragaki, because Sanada-san cared about him, like he cared about his mother.
Isn't that more of a reason? Nemesis hissed into his brain.
Ken might have said yes, yesterday. But he was really tired. He didn't think he would be able to get the spear even halfway to Aragaki's chest before giving up and collapsing to the floor, sobbing, like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
Let me do it for you, and Nemesis sounded urgent, now, the sharp scream of metal on metal reverberating through his soul, his whole being.
He wouldn't use his persona to kill. That was what people like Aragaki did.
He didn't want to take the moral high ground, not really, but the rest of the phrase he half-remembered earlier floated into his head, a forgotten memory.
His mother and him, curled up on her bed, at the ending of a Featherman episode, and Ken had asked a question about one of the characters, why he made such a dumb choice. She had been gentle but firm in her explanation.
"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, angel," and that was the end of that.
------
Ken's unexpected resolution last night still didn't leave him with a whole lot of ideas about what to do next, which wasn't a nice feeling. Killing Aragaki was now firmly off the table, but...
That had literally been the only thing keeping him alive. Avenging his mother's murder. Now what did he have?
The answer was nothing. He had wanted to die for two whole years, wanted it more than anything in the world, so much his bones ached with it. That was the only way he could see her again, if he was dead. He still left offerings on her grave and prayed for her at the shrine daily, but he would give away anything and everything to hear her voice again.
Anything. Everything.
Nemesis had been very quiet since he decided against homicide, but he thought that might have been a good thing, because the original Nemesis was the Greek goddess of retribution, and that didn't seem conductive to his new plans.
Anything, everything.
He supposed the only option left, if he wanted to see his mother again (and he did, shaking with want), would be to carry out the second part of his plan, and not the first. The suicide part of the murder-suicide.
He didn't really like thinking that word. It made it sound like he was going to do something horrible, awful, some mistake he couldn't take back. But it was abundantly clear to him that this wouldn't be a mistake. If he could hear his mother's laughter again, even once, he would do whatever he had to. If he had to die to get to that point, he thinks he'd rather it be by his own hand.
He's just finishing up his last class of the day, art and design, when he remembers that part. If he wants to get rid of himself, he thinks that impaling himself on a spear bigger than himself was an abysmally stupid way to go about things. A good thing he gave it some thought, then, after last night. How embarrassing it would have been to fail at the last hurdle.
He checked the calendar in the corner of the classroom. 24/09/2009. That was fine. He had time to prepare, and keep his mother's grave nice and clean, and figure out a way to actually, um, commit the act.
Without a spear.
Nemesis didn't speak to him, but he found that she directed his attention to a box-cutter on the side of a desk, very slowly. But searching his mind, he couldn't find any regret in her actions. Maybe just some lingering sadness, but there was that resolution he had associated with her ever since he first fired an Evoker. Whatever it takes, she would be there to help him out. After all, she was him.
He was able to slide it into his jacket pocket almost way too easily on his way out of the classroom. His class had a tendency to be loud and chaotic, and he always made sure to put up that polite and helpful facade whenever he was out of his room in the dorm, so he didn't think the art teacher would ever suspect him of being the thief. He still felt a little bit bad, because he knows stealing things is a crime, and despite his frequent anger (and his recently-cancelled murder plans) he knew that he still had a moral compass in there somewhere.
Either way, he had a more sensible weapon with him now. The bigger question was what to do with it.
His combat training taught him to aim for the chest, because it was a bigger target, but also because there were a whole bunch of important organs in there. Heart, lungs. He guessed the rest of his torso had important stuff too, like the stomach, but if his heart or lungs stopped, that would be quicker. The throat was also a good place, but only if you're close enough to what you're fighting, because the neck is smaller than the chest. He's pretty close to himself, for sure. If he cut off his own airflow, that would kill him, too, and he remembers there's an important blood vessel up there too.
But if he messed up the first strike, and didn't get the blood vessel, he doesn't know how long it would take him to choke to death, and it doesn't sound that pleasant. He would probably panic too much to make another cut, and that could cost him his death. If he went for the chest, but missed his heart, he imagines that his lungs filling up with blood would be the same. The bigger thing turning him against that option is the memory of his mother and the hole in her chest. That horrible, rasping, wheezing sound she made, which he knows now is called a 'death rattle'. He doesn't really want that.
He turns towards his school library.
There must be a whole bunch of places with those vessels - arteries, he remembers now - places that would be easier, for someone not used to aiming for them. He knows most of the books in here are for younger kids, but there's a lot of stuff about biology, so it stands to reason he could find something on human anatomy, and circulation, and important stuff like that.
This is the same library he found that book on Greek myths. He had spent at least half an hour looking for the right one, when he first joined the team, because too many of them were aimed at little kids and only talked about Zeus and stuff. He did find one eventually, and he read it cover to cover in his dorm room. About Io, Hermes, Penthesilea, and Orpheus and Eurydice.
Castor and Polydeuces.
Nemesis.
He eventually finds a book with a pretty detailed figure of the human body in there, but when he goes to check it out, the librarian gives him a funny look, so he resolves to just take notes at a desk in the corner.
It turns out that the human body is way more complicated than he gave it credit for. The ones in his arms are called the radial and the ulnar arteries, apparently, and they're very well concealed by all kinds of body stuff, mostly muscle. It might be his best shot, he's heard stories before of people cutting their wrists, but Sanada-san got upset when he saw it on the TV while Ken was there, and changed the channel pretty immediately.
There was a big artery in the neck, like he thought, because that was a pulse point, and it seemed pretty important. Some in his chest. Legs, too, but now he was thinking about it, that seemed pretty obvious, because his blood had to circulate to every limb somehow. A real adult would have known that right away, he really has to work on his academics if he wants to be seen anywhere near as mature as his dorm-mates.
Oh. Maybe not, actually, because it's a little over a week until his death-date.
He's replaced the book on the shelf and turned to leave when he hears a call of his name. Someone else on the soccer team.
"Hey, Amada-kun! Have you decided you'll play with us next month yet? I don't think we'll win the competition if you say no, we're not as good as you, not even all of us put together," the boy says, the words spilling straight out his mouth, and he seems to be tripping over them a little in his haste to convince Ken.
Ken, who made up his mind a long time ago that he wouldn't be around next month, feels a pit open up in his chest.
"I'm really sorry," he starts. "I have something on most of October, I don't think I can make it." He watches his teammate's face drop from a sunny smile incredibly quickly.
"Please! We'll get our butts kicked for sure without our star player, I just know we will! Can't you postpone it?"
Ken struggles to find the energy to comfort the boy, who looks close to tears, but he hopes his small, forced smile will do something. "Sorry. Maybe next month," he lies through his teeth, and walks away.
Nemesis settles her weight, not like a comforting warmth in his chest, but like a stone sitting heavy in his gut.
------
It's the night of October second, and Ken comes to the realization he should probably write a note. That's what most people did.
It didn't matter too much that he had no idea what most people wrote in that note. He didn't have a will written out or anything, mostly because he's eleven years old, but also because he didn't know what's supposed to go in it, or how to go about getting one.
He should probably write something, anyway. He intended to spend the whole of October third cleaning his mothers' grave, maybe telling her he'd see her in a bit, or leaving her a note too, but that seemed redundant because he could just tell her everything when he sees her again.
Because he will see her again, very soon.
It means if there's any night for note-writing, it's tonight. Neither Kotone-san or Minato-san had taken him to Tartarus recently, probably because they were scared after Nemesis disobeyed him, and he didn't mind that. But he also thought it was a weird thing to be afraid of. He didn't think Nemesis would do that again, because she was him, and he didn't want to hurt Aragaki anymore, really. He didn't think she'd come out at all, that was his bigger worry, except it didn't really worry him at all. She didn't have to. They'd both be back with his mother soon enough anyway.
Right. Note.
It was a Friday, so as soon as he got out of school, he ran to his room and tried to clean it up a bit. He didn't want them to think of him as a stupid kid who couldn't tidy up after himself, especially because he couldn't tidy up from the afterlife, so he'd better do it now.
His spears leant on the wall next to the desk, all polished and shiny, and he'd put most of his big things away under his bed to keep them out of the way. Not that there was much in his room to begin with. His soccer ball, and Junpei-san's gifts, were the main things. All his cartons of milk, full and empty, had already been put in the trash, because he didn't need to be taller anymore. He fit perfectly on his mother's lap when he was nine, and if he got much taller in those two years, she might not be able to lift him up anymore. He wasn't that concerned though, because he was still pretty small, and his mother was tall and strong and safe.
His Evoker lay on the desk next to him, near Hamburger's cage.
Right, Minato-san said he'd look after his hamster, after Ken couldn't anymore, so that was one thing squared away. He didn't have that many possessions anyway, so not much to give away like he knew people did in wills, but he guessed it wasn't a big deal, the rest of the dorm had already seen how little luggage he brought with him.
The note. Stop putting it off.
He didn't have enough to write to address one to every single individual, so he guesses he can just put them all together. This could just be his rough draft, anyway, it wasn't even 9pm yet.
He used the light of Mitsuru-san's cat lamp to write.
To Everyone,
He was a little bit stuck after that, and looked around his room, for inspiration or something, he didn't really know.
His eyes found the stuffed animal on his bed.
Thank you for everything you've done for me over the last couple of months. All of your gifts were really nice, you didn't have to do anything for just some random elementary school kid. But I appreciated it a lot, and I still do. Not just the gifts, but all the time and effort you spent on me, it really helped me a lot.
He was stuck, again. This isn't meant to be a thank-you note, is it? He doesn't really have a frame of reference.
Nemesis pulses a wave of regret through him, but it's not strong. He hasn't really had many super strong emotions since that gut-wrenching night where he'd thrown away his plan two years in the making. Is that a bad thing?
Anyway. Nemesis felt sorry. Probably for his teammates. He did too, a bit.
I'm really sorry for the trouble I caused, being the new addition, and shorter than everyone else. I hope I at least caught up a little, but I think I'm okay with it if I didn't, really. You're all super strong. I look up to you a lot. Admire you, even.
Junpei-san, the stuff you gave me is under my bed, you can have it back if you want. The big box has all the armour and things that Kotone-san and Minato-san gave me. Maybe it's too small for most of you, but that's okay because it means Koro-chan can have it.
The cat lamp is really cute, but you can have it back, if you want it. Or you can put it in the main area, whatever you want. Maybe Aigis-san would want it. My Featherman collection is on the shelf for Kotone-san, I sorted it out.
He wanted to write that he sorted it alphabetically, but he couldn't remember how to spell it, so he didn't. If they thought his grammar was bad, he'd be embarrassed. He wanted to sound like an adult when they read it, not like a kid, but he knew his grammar was a bit lacking, and it probably read like someone really young had written it, but he didn't know how to fix that.
Well, dead people can't feel embarrassed, so maybe it's fine.
Sanada-san, I still think you're one of the biggest inspirations I had while I was here. You're really cool. You can have my pocket money if you want it, or if Minato-san changed his mind about the hamster. Anything you want really. My way of paying you back for everything.
He paused. Breathed in, out, flexed his wrist a little.
Aragaki-san, you don't have to take anything if you don't want it, but there's a black scarf in my wardrobe if you ever get cold. You wear that coat a lot.
There was more to say to this man, so much more, a maelstrom of grief and rage that he wishes he could vomit up onto the page. But he doesn't want to ruin the letter. Usually Nemesis would be screaming right now, thumping against his ribcage like she wanted to burst free, turning his blood white hot in anger and spilling lava from his eyes - but she was as quiet as she had been, recently. There was something else underneath - still tasting metallic and bloody, but it hummed at a lower pitch, and he felt inexplicable comfort from the sound. It wasn't harsh at all, it almost sounded like a song. His hand stilled at the unfamiliar feeling, but it was kind of nice.
I'm not that angry at you anymore. I'm still upset. Really upset. But I think it's fine if I let that go, now, there's no point in staying mad. I think. This is better than my other plan.
This was the home stretch, now.
Basically what I'm trying to say is I'm really grateful for all of you just being you. And I'm sorry for the burden I put on you, having someone younger live here. It's okay though, I'm going home to my mother.
He blinked, and there were tears on the page. He quickly wiped them away, because he didn't want to mess up the ink and have to rewrite it. He thinks, maybe, that this is okay for the final version.
Look after yourselves.
- Amada Ken.
And then he was finished. Carefully, he folded it up, and put it in an empty desk. He hid it with a couple books, and decided he would put it out on his desk just before he left for his mother. Maybe he'd use the Evoker as a paperweight.
He slid out of his chair, lowered himself softly to the floor, and then the tears were in full force, and he couldn't stop them.
------
Finally, it was the night of October 4th.
The day before had gone exactly as he planned - a day spent almost entirely in the company of his mother. He didn't want to tell her too many stories there, because he had some things he'd like to say to her in person, and he didn't want them to run out of conversation topics too soon.
But he had cleaned her grave, using products borrowed from the dorm kitchen, and used the last bits of his pocket money to buy some forget-me-nots to lay over her. They probably wouldn't stay for long because it was very windy out, but there was a small vase next to her tombstone, so he put a couple in there and a couple over where she was buried.
Leaving the dorm on the 4th was easier than he expected it to be. He had swept through the room one last time, and made sure everything was neatly tucked away for when the others came to clean it out. He was wearing his favourite orange hoodie, and although he had second thoughts about staining it, he wanted the comfort, and for his mother to see he still loved the colour.
His box-cutter was tucked safely in his pocket, as well as a small coin, and in the end he couldn't leave behind the stuffed plushie, so he took that too.
The only barrier was Koromaru, who stood guard at the dorm exit, and whined when Ken tried to get him to move. Ken gave him a few pets, and even rubbed his tummy when he flopped over, but he kept forcing his wet nose into his palm, and it almost brought Ken to tears. He would miss him, when he was gone.
"I'm sorry, Koro-chan, I have to go."
He got past him eventually, but he could hear him crying softly all the way down the street.
He had taken the last train to Port Island Station, and just as he got off, the sky turned that awful sickly green, and the attendants in the station turned to coffins. He guessed this was a good thing - the others would be too preoccupied with the Full Moon shadow to stop him.
(He did feel guilty about skipping that, because they'd be down a healer, but Yukari-san really was powerful now, so they'd be fine without him.)
Finally, he reached the back alley. Where his house once stood, there was a chain-link fence and an open slot of land.
He forced himself to duck into the alley, and hid behind a dumpster.
His original plan had been to die in the same spot his mother had, but he could hardly stand to face the concrete without feeling nauseous, so this was the next best option. It also meant others would have a more difficult time searching for his body - in all likeliness, the first people to find it would be the delinquents that hung around this area, the group of coffins by the station exit.
That was for the best, maybe. The sight of a dead body isn't a pretty one, he doesn't want to force his dorm-mates to see that. Not when they've been so good to him.
Ken looks at the plushie again. There's a couple patches where the fur clumps together, mostly between its ears, probably from the tearstains. Still, the rest of it is lovely and soft, and he runs it through his fingers a few times, before carefully placing it on his lap. Something in his heart aches at the beady eyes staring right at him. This was Aigis-san's gift. Somehow, it feels like the stuffed animal knows exactly what he's planning, and is condemning him for considering it.
Maybe it thinks this is weakness. Ken doesn't care anymore. He just wants to see his mother.
His hand rattles the coin in his pocket as he pulls out the blade. When he had been researching Greek mythology, he had read about their version of the afterlife. Where there was a ferryman, waiting to take him across the river Styx and into the underworld, but he had to pay the fee, or it would make him wait for a hundred years. He couldn't take any chances - he thought he was patient, but not that patient, no way. He had to see his mother tonight.
So, he brought the coin for the ferryman, and he supposed if it didn't like the coin, the plushie would make an acceptable gift.
He stared at the shine of the metal. The metal that would take him to his mother.
A teardrop splashed off it's surface. Ken wiped it off with a thumb.
He let it balance on his knee as he pulled both sleeves up past his elbows. He had to get them both - if he only got one, he could still bleed out if he was left undiscovered, but he had no idea how long he had spent in this corner, tucked away, thinking over his life to this point, and wondering what he would find in death. He had to try his very hardest, just as mama always said - to try your best, with everything, and nobody can ever ask for more.
The press of it to the crook of his elbow gave him a shock. It was cold as ice, and sharp, leaving a small bead of blood when he brought it back to inspect it. Maybe he could warm it between his hands for a bit?
Nevermind. There would be no point in that when he was too dead to feel the metal's sting.
He put it back against his elbow, and tried to recall the diagram he had seen in the book. He had to go deep, and fast, maybe do it twice, or he might miss the artery.
He paused. A wave of guilt crashed over him, for the people he was about to leave behind.
Nemesis nudged him softly, a reminder of the time, and then fell completely and suddenly silent.
He placed his index and middle fingers against the pulse point of his left wrist, the blade still held in his palm.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
That was his lifeforce, and he was going to stop it with his own two hands.
The tears came back, but instead of wasting time wiping them away, he put the blade back to his arm, and pushed, hard.
The pain was overwhelming, and he couldn't help the cry that fell from his mouth, but he couldn't stop, he knows he can't afford to leave it there. One sharp movement and the blade slices through skin and muscle and who knows what else. Through tear-stained lashes, he can see he didn't get all the way to the base of his hand - so he goes again, digging the blade into the middle of the cut he made, and striking, hard.
The blood is like a waterfall. He thinks he can see it pulsing. Ba-dump, ba-dump.
He struggles to get a good grip on the knife with his other hand, and finds he can't really move that arm at all to get to the other wrist. Not good.
Before he can find a solution -
- an angel appears in front of him, in a burgundy coat. He can't really hear that well, like his ears are stuffed full of cotton, and everything moves like he's seeing it through the strobe lights of a live-action superhero movie.
But he can see the figure fall to it's knees, and grip his wrist, the one that's bleeding. It's fingers can't get much purchase, the blood makes them slip all over the place, and eventually it forces something black over his arm and holds the pressure. It's being very loud. He hears his name, once or twice.
The figure is a man, who slides both arms under Ken and picks him up, like his mother used to. Ken lets his head fall onto the man's chest as he puts pressure back on the wound. He thinks it's supposed to hurt, probably, but he feels all cold and floaty, like a cloud, or smoke from a candle. His plushie balances on his stomach, soaked in blood. Maybe this is the ferryman, come to take him home.
The man is running, Ken in his arms, when he hears a sound, loud and sharp. A bang, like a firework, and the man is on the floor, and Ken is too, rolling to a stop. Everything's dizzy, and there are a lot of people shouting, and a lot of footsteps, and Ken is so, so tired.
A pair of metallic arms picks up his plushie, where it fell. Someone else takes hold of Ken, more steady, and all he can see is blue. He smells like cheap aftershave.
This new person runs fast, much faster than the other one.
Ken closes his eyes against the inky black sky.
------
He wakes up. Maybe. He can't tell.
His chest moves on his own, and everything sounds like it's coming through waterlogged ears, but he can hear beeping, soft and steady. His eyelids are crusted shut.
He tries to move - his head, his hand, anything - but finds he can't. The thought panics him, and he hears the beeping pick up.
Then, there's a voice. Quiet, nervous, very high-pitched, speaking to him, maybe, from a place to his left. There's a hand, soft and gentle but with bowstring calluses along their fingers, carding through his hair from the right.
His mother?
He stills, and falls back asleep, into the dark.
-------
He wakes up again, but this time, properly.
The last time feels more like a dream than anything else. This time, he can feel himself breathing, chest moving with every inhale and exhale. He can feel hard plastic under his nose, and something heavy over his left arm. He's laying on something papery, and a little bit itchy. The sounds are sharper now, clearer, and with great effort, he finds he can peel his eyes open.
The blurriness fades with just a few blinks.
The room he finds himself in smells like chemicals and everything is a blinding white, with blue wallpaper on the far side. There's a desk next to his head, with several cards and a vase of bright flowers on it. A machine is whirring softly next to him, with a bunch of complicated lines on the screen Ken doesn't understand, beeping a steady rhythm.
To his other side, there are several chairs next to the door. Sanada-san is sleeping on one of them, his head dipped into his chest. His pale hair looks greasy, and from this distance, Ken can make out eye-bags, dark like bruises. He's snoring softly.
On the chair next to him is Makoto-san, but he isn't asleep. He's on his phone, texting, and every click of each button seems to echo around the room.
Ken blinks, and his eyelashes feel sticky.
Makoto-san raises his head, and the two make eye contact.
"Ken-kun," he says, and his voice cracks in the middle.
Sanada-san jerks awake, and is at his side in almost an instant. "Ken, what on earth were you thinking?!" he cries.
Ken opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a cough. Sanada-san scrambles for a cup of water on the side. Makoto-san is texting furiously, now.
Sanada-san tries to push the straw into Ken's mouth, but he moves his head away.
The reality hits him like a pile of bricks, and suddenly he finds himself sobbing, like a little child. "Why?" he gasps.
Sanada-san looks almost helplessly confused, and distantly Ken realises he's crying too. He helps Ken sit up.
"Why did you stop me? Where's-" he cuts himself off, coughing. "I want my mother."
He feels like a toddler having a temper tantrum, but he can't help it. Fat tears roll down his face and onto the hospital blanket, and his whole face screws up with the force of his sobs. "I want my mama!"
He feels warm. Sanada-san has him gripped in a desperate hug, the sharp edge of his jawline cutting into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he chokes out. "So, so sorry, but you can't see her right now."
Ken cries harder with the knowledge of his failure. It sets into his bones like lead, gathering in the bottom of his stomach. All that work for absolutely nothing at all.
The door slams open, and people come flooding in.
------
The nurse finishes his explanation while he adjusts Ken's IV.
He's damaged the nerves in his left wrist severely enough to need physical therapy if he ever wants to use it again. He's in a Kirijo-sponsored hospital right now, and has been placed on suicide watch while he heals, but Mitsuru-san was able to veto his removal into inpatient care at a different facility. He's scheduled for a psychological evaluation later in the week, since he's awake now, and he's been released from his old therapist, which Ken thanks the stars for, because she was horrible. Instead, he's got a Kirijo supplied one, who he can talk to about Personas and the Dark Hour without fear of an antipsychotic prescription. Apparently, he'd been asleep for four days. A medically induced coma.
The nurse leaves after refilling the water cup. He's left with the faces of his team-mates, all staring at him.
He hiccups softly, and wipes away his tears with his right arm. Yukari-san had migrated to his bed during the explanation, letting him rest his head on her chest while she played with his hair again.
Aragaki isn't here.
"Ken-kun," Mitsuru-san starts, before clearing her throat. "We just want to understand why you felt you had to take such... desperate measures."
Junpei-san scrubs at his eyes.
Ken feels so ashamed, he can hardly breathe through the thick cloud in his lungs. "I..."
Yukari-chan moves her other arm to hug him around his stomach, and drops a kiss onto his head.
"I wanted to see my mother again," he says, thickly, and sees the way Sanada-san drops his head into his hands. Fuuka-san looks at him like he'd just shot a puppy and threw it's lifeless body into her arms.
Nobody seems to know what to say to that. Kotone-san and Makoto-san are holding eachothers hands as they stare at him, Kotone-san openly crying, now.
"You don't have to tell us everything, but promise me you'll be honest with the therapist?" Yukari-san speaks, and her voice rattles through his chest where he's leaning against her. He nods, but doesn't say anything, because he's not sure if he can do that properly. He's so used to lying now that it comes more naturally than speaking the truth.
Aigis-san approaches him. "Myself and Fuuka-san are attempting to remove the stains from your stuffed animal and hoodie," and it's like a spear through his heart. Aigis-san doesn't emote like the others do, because she's not built for it, really. But her eyes are wide and damp, hands folded in front of her. She reaches for him, and extends a her pinky finger.
Ken chokes out a laugh.
"Junpei-san taught me that this is called a 'pinky promise'. You have to lock your finger with mine to create the vow. My promise to you is that, at next year's festival, I must win you another." She sounds so completely serious.
Ken doesn't know if he wants to stay another year without his mother. But he looks around the room, at all of these people who want him to live, want him to stay alive so much that they cried for him, brought him to the doctors, gave him comfort when he didn't wish for it.
He locks pinkies with Aigis-san. "Deal."
------
Ken's cleared to leave the hospital two weeks later, but he has to come back every second day for physical therapy. His left arm is still bandaged, but that's mostly so he doesn't knock off the scabs still clinging to the injury, and because he hates to look at the reminder of his failure.
Sanada-san walks him to the exit, and signs the release form for him, because he's still too young to do it for himself. When Ken huffs about it, Sanada-san just says, "You'll have to wait until you're 18, and then you can do it," and Ken thinks he might be able to wait until then. He's waited this long, after all.
Koromaru is waiting for him at the doors, and Aragaki - Aragaki-san is holding the other end of his leash. The others told him he received a bullet to the thigh while he was carrying Ken away, but the man behind the gun missed, so it was just a graze. Aragaki-san is still leaning most of his weight on the other leg, though.
Koromaru almost knocks him over in his eagerness to see him again, and Ken giggles, reaching down to fuss over him. He tussles with his ears, running the fur through his fingers, and Koro-chan licks him on the cheek.
Aragaki-san is staring. "I..." He turns away. "I'm so glad you're not dead." The grief in his voice is obvious.
Ken is met with the realization that Aragaki-san would have blamed himself for his death, just as he already does for ruining a nine-year-old's life. Usually, Nemesis would be hissing her pleasure at his guilt, and calling for him to meet his fate. But she had been silent for two weeks.
Ken still doesn't know how to feel about his mother's killer. But Sanada-san places a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he can feel the rays of the autumn sun warming his face.
He smiles. "I'm glad, too." He's pleasantly surprised to find it doesn't feel like a lie anymore.
There's a pleased rumble in his chest, gears spinning against each-other, metal and blood and light and love, and his heart feels like a bird in flight, like Nemesis' cold chains had been severed at long last.
Hello, Kala-Nemi.