Left alone with Elizabeth, Rias and Sona finally had a moment to process the earlier horror. Rias looked at Elizabeth, her expression haunted.
"Elizabeth… what happened to the Shadow? That… thing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Elizabeth replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "Makoto defeated it. Though I must admit, his method was… theatrically inefficient." She gestured vaguely towards the window, indicating the distant ruin.
Rias and Sona absorbed this, the image of the colossal monstrosity juxtaposed with the quiet, seemingly fragile Makoto staggering their comprehension. Sona, ever practical but visibly shaken by the thought of Makoto's apparent death, voiced the question burning in both their minds.
"Elizabeth," Sona began, her voice carefully controlled. "When Azazel held him… Yuki showed no signs of life. The Evil Pieces failed utterly. How… how can he possibly be 'fine'? What is he?"
Elizabeth regarded them with her ancient, knowing eyes. She reached into the air, and the massive, leather-bound Persona Compendium materialized in her hands with a soft chime.
"You see," she said, opening the tome, its pages glowing with inner light, "death, for Makoto, is not an end state. It is… a force he commands. A domain he walks within."
Rias and Sona stared, certain they had misheard. "What… what did you say?" Sona whispered, her composure cracking.
Seeing their disbelief, Elizabeth smiled faintly. Her fingers traced a specific page. A shimmering light coalesced beside her, but instead of the fearsome form of Thanatos, Ryoji Mochizuki materialized in his human guise, leaning casually against the table.
"Mochizuki?!" both girls gasped, shock rendering them momentarily speechless.
Ryoji offered a small, gentle wave. "Hey."
"This," Elizabeth stated, closing the Compendium which vanished, "is the reason Makoto appeared deceased. His connection to the aspect of Death runs deeper than mere mortality."
Sona recovered first, her analytical mind seizing on the anomaly she'd always sensed. "I felt something… other about you, Mochizuki," she stated, her gaze sharp. "What, precisely, are you?"
Ryoji tilted his head, his smile tinged with melancholy. "It's quite late. Are you certain you want that answer now? Perhaps rest would be wiser."
"No," Sona stated firmly, her resolve hardening. "We settle this now. Rias?"
Rias nodded, her expression serious. "We need to understand."
Elizabeth and Ryoji exchanged a glance. Then, they began. They spoke of the Fall—not the Devil's rebellion, but the descent of Nyx, drawn by humanity's despair.
They spoke of the Dark Hour, Tartarus, Shadows, and the desperate battle fought by the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad. They spoke of Makoto Yuki, the Wild Card, the Universe Arcana, the one who faced Nyx and sealed her away at the cost of his own life—a life perpetually hovering between the realms due to his unique nature and bond with Death itself.
They spoke of Ryoji's dual nature—the Avatar of Death, the Appraiser, the herald of the Fall, now choosing humanity. They spoke of the Velvet Room, Philemon, Igor, and the contract.
And finally, they spoke of Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos, seeking to usurp Nyx's role in this new reality, and their mission to stop him.
The tale was epic, tragic, and utterly alien, painting a picture of cosmic struggles and human resilience that dwarfed the Devil-Fallen-Angel conflicts Rias and Sona knew.
Silence descended, thick and heavy, after the final word was spoken. Sona leaned back in her chair, her face pale but composed. "That… is a considerable amount to process."
Rias looked at Ryoji, a complex mix of emotions in her eyes—awe, fear, understanding.
"Yuuto mentioned your reaction when he spoke Nyx's name… I thought it might be a dormant Sacred Gear. But this…" She trailed off, unable to articulate the scale of it.
Ryoji offered a reassuring smile, though his eyes held ancient sorrow. "There's nothing to fear. I have no intention of bringing the Fall here. We're focused on stopping Nyarlathotep, not repeating past tragedies."
Rias shook her head quickly. "Sorry! I didn't mean to imply… It's just… overwhelming. The scope…"
"I understand," Ryoji said gently. "It is a lot."
Another silence stretched. Rias finally broke it. "What do you think, Sona?"
Sona took a deep, steadying breath, pushing her glasses up her nose. "We must await our siblings and the other Satans. However," she met Elizabeth's and Ryoji's gazes squarely, "based on what we've heard and witnessed… they do not appear to be a threat. Quite the opposite. If Yuki hadn't intervened tonight…"
She trailed off, the unspoken horror of what
Shadow Azazel might have done hanging in the air. "We owe him… and you… a debt."
Rias nodded in solemn agreement. The two heiresses, bound by shared trauma and revelation, shared a look of exhausted understanding before preparing to part for the night, their worlds irrevocably changed.
04/10/2012, Velvet Room, Morning
Makoto stirred, the oppressive weight of deep, unnatural sleep clinging to him. He turned over in the plush bed of the Velvet Room's upper floor, but true rest eluded him.
A glance at the ornate clock on the nightstand: 3:38 PM. He'd slept through the entire morning and most of the afternoon. Slowly, he pushed himself upright, the memory of Elizabeth's stern yet understanding face flashing in his mind.
'I made the right choice,' he thought, the conviction a small anchor in his fatigue.
'Universe, I must concur with the Attendant on this occasion,' Odin's deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind. 'Utilizing Messiah's Theurgy in such a manner was reckless bordering on suicidal. You are the singular bulwark against Nyarlathotep. While your soul may transcend mortality, your physical vessel remains frustratingly fragile. Its preservation is paramount.'
'Shut up,' Makoto replied mentally, the words sharp with weariness. He didn't want the All-Father's cold pragmatism right now.
'I am proud of you, Universe!' Robin Hood declared, his voice brimming with fervent admiration. 'A true hero's act, facing overwhelming darkness for another! Your courage shines undimmed!'
'Robin Hood, do not encourage such foolhardiness!' Kohryu's rumbling voice chastised, laced with paternal concern. 'That was not courage; it was a gamble with existence itself. The Dragon of Earth counsels caution, young one.'
Makoto sighed, the internal debate a familiar cacophony. He rose, the cool air of the Velvet Room brushing his skin, and moved downstairs, sinking onto one of the blue velvet couches. The silence of the room was a stark contrast to the turmoil within.
'You should consume sustenance, Makoto,' Orpheus Telos suggested gently, his melodic voice a soothing balm. 'Your physical form requires fuel.'
Makoto nodded silently. He wasn't in the mood to cook. Pulling on his jacket, he stepped out of the Velvet Room door materializing in a quiet Kuoh backstreet, heading aimlessly, drawn only by the need for simple, undemanding food.
"Senpai!" The cheerful shout shattered the quiet. Irumi Ito was sprinting towards him, her brown hair bouncing, her large headphones askew, her face alight with genuine relief and excitement.
"Senpai! We missed you! You skipped the club meeting! Are you okay? Everyone was worried sick!" She skidded to a halt before him, slightly breathless, her glasses slightly fogged.
"I'm fine," Makoto reassured her, managing a small smile. "Sorry for worrying you."
"I'm just glad you're okay!" Irumi beamed. She fumbled for her phone. "We had our first practice without you yesterday! I recorded it so you could hear!" She tapped the screen eagerly.
The sound that erupted from the phone was… catastrophic. A chaotic, dissonant avalanche of noise where individual instruments warred against each other, rhythm was a forgotten concept, and melody was brutally murdered. It was less music, more an auditory assault on sanity.
'This is not music. This is sonic homicide,' Orpheus Telos stated flatly, aghast.
'An instrument of torture,' Apollo declared with divine disdain.
'Worse than Shadow screams! Hee-ho!' Jack Frost chimed in, uncharacteristically grim.
'Even for you, Apollo, that was cruel,' Orpheus Telos retorted.
'No. It was accurate,' Apollo replied coldly.
Irumi stopped the recording, her eyes shining with hopeful anticipation. "Well? What do you think?" she asked, vibrating with excitement.
Makoto blinked, carefully schooling his features into neutrality. "Well…" he began slowly, searching for the most diplomatic phrasing possible. "It was… certainly unique. There's… potential. For refinement."
'Potential for being thrown into the deepest abyss of Tartarus,' Orpheus muttered darkly.
"Did you like it?" Irumi pressed, oblivious.
"Perhaps it's better we discuss this with the whole club?" Makoto deflected smoothly. "Get everyone's perspective?"
Irumi pouted playfully but nodded. "Fine, fine! Spoilsport!" Then, Makoto's stomach chose that moment to emit a loud, prolonged growl. He flushed slightly. Irumi burst out laughing, covering her mouth but failing to stifle her giggles.
""Oh! Sorry, Senpai! But seeing you embarrassed like that is priceless! Come on, I know the perfect place! My treat for worrying us!" Still chuckling, she led the way to a nearby, unassuming ramen shop, the scent of broth already promising solace from both hunger and musical trauma.