Archive of Our Own

It took him a little while, to put together the evidence he had. But by the time he stepped back, examining his work, he knew he had made a good choice.

The board before him laid out every single detail about the elusive, glamorous phantom thief that Shuichi had been trying to capture.

Their first appearance was sometime two months ago. In the cold fog of one September night, a thief who sparkled like the moon stole a precious jewel from a museum. By the time anyone realized it was missing, the thief was gone, leaving behind one of their black and white calling cards with a single sentence written on it in small print: “The unavoidable truth in a world of lies.”

These cards were left behind at every scene, in the place of whatever it was they stole that night. It was one of the few clues they’d allow to be left behind. Fingerprints and security footage were out of the question; there was hardly ever even a speck of dust left behind by them, let alone fingerprints or anything that could be used for DNA testing. And Shuichi had scourged every security camera he could, to no avail. Whoever they were, they had made it a game of dodging being spotted by any security camera.

The only camera they’d let themself be seen on was the news. Occasionally, they’d allow the cameras to capture a semi-decent picture of them, perched atop some building with that night’s stolen artifact. As it was night and they often stood with their back to the only source of light– the moon– every photo of them was taken casted in shadows. And what few photos of their face he could see, it was obvious they were wearing a mask.

It was a tough case. But it was a case Shuichi would gladly take on.

In those two months, ten artifacts had been stolen. There wasn't any pattern in what museum they targeted and when– it was sporadic, as if they had chosen their target on a whim. And yet despite this, each specific heist was extremely expertly performed, as if it had been done many times before. Baffling, is what the whole case was.

Shuichi had taken to calling them simply “Phantom”, though they had many different names in the media. The Clown Thief, King Joker, Spade Checker, things along those lines, all born from Phantom’s particular clothing style. It was a lot of black and white, reminiscent of the palette of a chess board. That, and their flowery language as well as their generally flamboyant, theatric mannerisms made them quite the spectacle to behold.

Looking at the board now, Shuichi sighed. Maybe the name “Phantom” did fit them all too well. They were like a ghost, coming and going in the blink of an eye. Each museum, every testimony he collected, all only brought him back to conclusions he had actually reached. Trying to arrest Phantom was out of the question– multiple attempts had been made at such a feat before, none of which came even close to succeeding. So if Shuichi couldn’t arrest them, he’d simply have to pin down their true identity.

Right now, he’d say it was about four in the morning. Should he be awake? Probably not. He needed all the sleep he could get, especially after the most recent heist no less than three days ago. Did this mean he was going to go to bed? Definitely not.

This last heist was a minor one. They didn't take anything too major or wildly expensive, it was something the museum could probably live without. But robbery was robbery, and it was another piece of the puzzle Shuichi needed to solve.

The question now was how could he progress the case forwards? He had been running in loops this whole time, but he wasn't making any actual progress. He could re-evaluate the scenes all he wanted, none of them would suddenly sprout any new clues.

“Hmm? Is our dear Saihara-chan still awake at this hour?”

The voice nearly made him drop his coffee.

He whirled around, breathless, as he suddenly found himself face to face with the very person he had been trying to find.

It was dark in the room– the lights had been giving him a migraine, so he had turned them off, leaving only his desk lamp on– so their details were still a little obscure. But Shuichi could see them far more clearly now. Their black cape flowed in the gentle wind from the open window, their face framed with purple locks. They wore only a half of their mask now, revealing a purple eye that gleamed with mystery and secrecy.

“Ph-Phantom-san…” Shuichi whispered, somewhere between awe and disbelief. Maybe both. He recollected himself quickly, placing his coffee on the desk. “I should arrest you right now.”

“Hmm? But I haven't done anything wrong, Saihara-chan~♡” Phantom purred. Glancing at the board behind him, they pursed their lips. “Aside from maybe a few borrowed artifacts here and there…”

“‘Borrowed’ implies you’re going to give it back,” Shuichi pointed out.

“Pish posh. Do the details really matter?” Phantom flicked a dismissive wrist, their black latex gloves shining in the desk light. “Do you know why I'm here, Saihara-chan? You’re smart, so I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Shuichi squinted at them. He couldn't think of any possible reason why a wanted criminal would waltz directly into the police station.

“Are you turning yourself in?” Shuichi guessed, hoping his sarcasm was obvious.

It was. Phantom huffed out an amused little breath. They walked as if they were gliding, smoothly closing the space between him and themself in less than a few seconds. Shuichi felt his breath catch in his throat as they leaned forward, practically touching noses with him.

“You really need to keep your eyes open, Saihara-chan,” Phantom whispered to him, their voice soft and somewhat teasing. They delicately took his hand into theirs, still smiling. “What would I do without you?”

Shuichi could barely breathe. “What…?”

“Every coin needs its other side,” Phantom vaguely elaborated. “Every lie comes with its truth. One cannot exist without the other. You, Saihara-chan, are my opposite. My other half.”

Perhaps his confusion was obvious, because Phantom giggled softly.

“My point, darling, is that I find you very interesting,” Phantom told him. They gestured to the board. “I’ve never seen something so big dedicated to me! So clearly, you find me interesting too.” Their voice dropped into a whisper. “And I will never forget that.”

“What are you getting at?” Shuichi asked them carefully.

“I’d like to give you something,” Phantom finally said. “A clue, so to speak. I’m very meticulous about what I do because I like an unfair playing field. It’s no fun if I get caught by somebody boring, right? But for you, I want to elevate you to be my equal. I want this game to be fair.”

Shuichi frowned slightly. Phantom seemed particularly captivated with the concept of being “boring” and “interesting”. Part of what makes a phantom thief a phantom thief is the moral code they operate under; a phantom thief will never hurt another person. So Shuichi wasn’t very worried about being hurt by them. Tricked, maybe– that seemed like something they might do– but this was quite the substantial risk they were taking, talking to him in his own office like this.

Perhaps they were telling the truth. And even with the chance they weren’t… Shuichi needed every lead he could get. A clue given to him by the very person he was trying to capture could help, if this all was just one big game to them.

“You know what’ll happen when you’re arrested, right?” Shuichi reminded them. “You’re going to go to prison.”

“That's if they can catch me, Saihara-chan!” Phantom shot back with a cheeky grin. “Will you take up my offer? Do you want the clue, or do you want to keep playing at the very bottom? And don’t think about arresting me, Saihara-chan.” Their visible eye glinted with something knowing. “You know you won’t be able to do it.”

Shuichi worried they were right. It was very late, he was running on at least four cups of coffee, and he hadn’t had a proper night of sleep in a week. He was in no condition to arrest anyone, much less someone who would certainly resist.

“Fine,” Shuichi decided. “I’ll do it. I’ll accept whatever your clue is.”

Phantom’s eye alit with joy. “Interesting and fun? Oh-ho, you’re even better than I thought, Saihara-chan! ♡ Okie-dokie, I’ll show you the clue. But you have to leave this dingy little office with me first, alright?”

“Dingy?” Shuichi echoed with a small frown. He thought his office was pretty comfortable, thank you very much.

“But I guess if Saihara-chan likes it, it's fine. You can't help it if you have bad taste,” Phantom teased. They gave his hand a gentle tug. “It won't take long, Saihara-chan. I left it outside.”

“So it's a physical object?” Shuichi guessed as he, reluctantly, followed Phantom out of his office.

Phantom didn't reply. Shuichi supposed he’d simply have to wait and see.

The halls were quiet as Phantom guided him through the building. It was dark– understandably, as it was four in the morning– so it was a little difficult to see ahead. Phantom didn't seem to have this problem, seamlessly navigating the dark building without any hesitation.

It took Shuichi some time to realize they were leading him to the roof.

“Come on, Saihara-chan. Keep your eyes open,” Phantom encouraged him suddenly. “Just a little more. ♪”

“Okay…” Shuichi agreed slowly.

Phantom grinned at him.

–

“Detective Saihara-san! Over here!”

Shuichi had already been heading in that direction, but nevertheless he nodded to the officer who called him over. She nodded back, solemn.

“I know you don't cover cases like these often, but we need all of the help we can get,” she explained grimly, stepping aside to allow him to move forwards. “This is the third victim of this killer… you’ll understand why we know when you see them.”

Murder cases weren’t something Shuichi took up often. He preferred to focus on the cases that got him into this job, like infidelity and runaways. But with how brutal these murders were and how little leads everyone else had, he figured he might as well put his former title as the Ultimate Detective to good use.

The minute he saw the body itself though, he almost wished he had declined the request.

There was very little left to recognize the victim with. Their arms and legs were gone, reduced to mere stumps. A gaping tear exposed their ribcage, where he could very vaguely see that a lot of their major organs were gone– a lung, their heart, their liver and stomach… that was all he saw before he had to turn his head, nauseated.

“There's no ID on the victim yet…” The officer told him. “That's what they're working on right now.”

“Thank you,” Shuichi dismissed her. She nodded, and returned to her original post.

As hesitant as he was, Shuichi stepped forward, trying to look at the victim again. The dumpsite was relatively the same as the others; the very back of an alleyway, next to a dumpster. Each body had been found in a mysterious garbage bag, containing a gruesome surprise for whichever poor soul got curious enough to open it. That, and the wounds between each victim matched pretty flawlessly. Arms and legs gone, with their chest torn open. The only difference was that on the first victim, his tongue had been cut out, whereas the last two seemed to have had their lips sewn shut.

Shuichi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell his nausea. He realized this was a very bad idea as the smell of death and blood assaulted his nostrils.

Readjusting his glasses and borrowing a pair of disposable gloves, Shuichi steeled his resolve and crouched beside the body. He didn't want to disturb the scene too much, but he did want to look at their condition himself. He could always vomit into his toilet when he got home, after all.

The victim was a male, as difficult as it was to tell. Before coming here, Shuichi had gotten to glance at the other files, so he’d wager this man’s cause of death was also blood loss. And yet despite the missing limbs, none of the victim’s injuries– including this one– showed any signs of infection. Actually, the wounds varied in age, too. The left arm was cut off before the right. Then, the right leg was cut off before the left.

With that in mind, he knew these victims had to be held for quite some time before they were killed. The last victim was found six months ago, so assuming this victim had been taken around that time… that was a long time. Why would the killer need to hold onto her victims for that long?

The dismemberment process must span over those six months, then, Shuichi silently mused. There has to be a reason for that… hm?

There was something curious on the victim’s side. He had mistaken it as simple cuts, but the killer's work had been extremely intricate thus far. The shape of these were unmistakable.

“WKH”

“W.K.H…?” Shuichi quietly read out loud. Was it an acronym? It was such an odd assortment of letters, and its meaning was a little lost on him.

Did the other victims have something like this?

He didn’t think it’d show up in the file, considering how long it had taken him to notice it. But he knew the other victim’s bodies had been preserved.

Standing up, Shuichi disposed of his gloves. He gave his thanks and good wishes to the other officers, and walked back to his car.

“Detective-san, I don't doubt your abilities, but are you wholly sure of this?”

“I am,” Shuichi replied, not taking his eyes off of the coffins. They were almost open. “I'm not sure what these clues mean yet, but I know they’re important.”

The cemetery director beside him clicked his tongue. “If you say so…”

With the first body extracted from the coffin, Shuichi was finally allowed to approach. The body was pretty weathered by now, even inside the coffin, so the chances of a potential letter carving being preserved was pretty risky. But Shuichi was sure it could help.

Much to his surprise, he did find something. In the exact same spot as the most recent victim. This one was a much longer string of random letters.

“BRXUVHOI”

“I knew it…” Shuichi murmured.

“Aah,” the man working on the other coffin spoke up. “Um. Detective-san, I think this one’s a lost cause.”

“Hm?” Shuichi turned, taking in the man’s hesitant posture. “Is it too decayed…?”

“Take a look just in case,” the cemetery worker advised. “We brought him up. Might as well check.”

“Right…”

Seeing as it was almost over a year old, Shuichi was not at all to discover that the body was pretty much beyond repair. He closed his eyes, having the sense to turn away from the body before taking in his deep, calming breath.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Shuichi promised. If the other two victims had the carving in the same spot, then this victim’s carving would likely be the same as well.

It was far more difficult to tell with this one, but he supposed they didn't call this the “Timeless Cemetery” for nothing.

“WHOO”

That was the closest to an actual word he had found thus far, but with the addition of the extra “o”, it continued to mean nothing. Shuichi stepped back, allowing the funeral workers to seal back up the bodies and relay them to rest.

“So? Did you find something?” The cemetery director asked him.

“I did… I just don't know what it means yet,” Shuichi said. “This definitely helped, though. Thank you.”

The cemetery worker nodded. “I hope you catch this son of a bitch. What he’s doing is awful…”

Shuichi hummed. “I hope we catch her too.”

Back in the safety of his office, Shuichi found himself awake in the late hours once more. It was like deja vu, looking at a big board with the evidence for the case he was stuck on.

The thing he was fixating on was the strange letters. In order of the victims, the message (so far?) spelled out, “WHOO BRXUVHOI WKH”. That didn’t make any particular sense, however! He figured he just needed to decrypt it somehow.

Across the whole message, W was used two times. H was used three times. O was used three times as well. The rest were all used in a singular instance. Four vowels were used, the rest being consonants. He had written all of this down on the side, trying his best to find any kind of pattern or reason in the message. It wasn't a scrambled code, and assigning the whole message numerical value left him with 2381515 2182421228159 23118, which as far as he could tell, meant absolutely nothing.

As he was in the process of shifting each letter once to the right, he heard his window open. He didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.

“Phantom-san, you really shouldn’t be here,” Shuichi warned them, looking over his shoulder at the shadowed figure that had entered his office.

“Aw, what? I can't say hi to my Detective-chan?” Phantom pouted. “I wanted to know what you were doing! Are those dead bodies?”

Shuichi glanced back at the pictures on the board, stepping to try and hide them behind himself.

“I’m working on another case,” Shuichi told them. “I can't deal with you right now.”

Phantom sat down on his table, crossing one leg over the other. “I’d love to help you, Detective-chan. Maybe getting a criminal’s perspective will help you crack the case!”

Shuichi sighed. “You’re a thief, Phantom-san. This person is a murderer. You two are completely different.”

“We’re both on the run from the law, aren’t we?” Phantom pointed out cheekily. “Lay it to me straight, Detective-chan! I know you aren’t, but at least try for me.”

“...a third victim was found two days ago,” Shuichi admitted. “The same as the other two. Their arms and legs were cut off, and they were missing most of their major organs. They bled to death.”

Phantom hummed, signalling for him to go on.

“Each limb was cut off at different periods of time,” Shuichi explained. “Left arm first, right arm second, right leg third, and left leg fourth. That's how it's been for all the victims.”

“You think she's keeping them as trophies?” Phantom suggested.

“I'm not sure…” Shuichi had considered that as a possibility, but there was no evidence to confirm such a thing. “No one has found any disembodied limbs, so I don’t think the killer is discarding them. She might not be keeping them as trophies, but I do think she's keeping them.”

“What else would she be keeping them for?” Phantom questioned, rolling their eyes. “A midnight snack? Grooooss, Detective-chan!”

“...I really hope that's not the case,” Shuichi winced. Pinning down killers were one thing, cannibals were another altogether. Just the thought made his hands tremble. “Anyways, on all of the bodies, I’ve been finding really strange, cryptic messages. Look here.”

Shuichi pointed at the message he had written out. Phantom’s eyes scanned the message, calculative and sharp.

“That looks like gibberish,” Phantom remarked.

“I’ve found one ‘word’ on every victim, carved into their left side,” Shuichi said. “I don't know what it could mean…”

“Hmm.” Phantom hopped off the desk, approaching the board with a thoughtful glint in their eye. “W, H and O appear a lot.”

“Right.”

“That spells ‘who’,” Phantom stated. “Who’s the culprit, is the obvious question. It can also spell ‘how’; how have they been getting away with this?”

Shuichi nodded a little more slowly. They had a strange way of thinking out loud, as he had come to learn.

“...oooh, you know what?” Phantom turned suddenly, facing him with a wide grin. “This sort of reminds me of something I saw a few months back. I can show you, Detective-chan, if you want to see it.”

That got his attention fast. He gaped at Phantom, momentarily rendered speechless.

“You have a clue?” Shuichi breathed. “Are you sure it's related to this case?”

“I dunno. It might not be.” Phantom smirked at him. “Will you take that chance, Detective-chan?”

Shuichi needed to, didn't he? Shockingly, Phantom hadn’t led him wrong before. And he knew that they wouldn't mention it if they didn't think it was important.

“I will,” Shuichi confirmed. “Where is it? Can you take me to it?”

“If my dear Detective-chan wants to risk it, sure!” Phantom giggled. “I’m parked outside. It’s okay, I’ll drive!”

Shuichi paused, watching Phantom climb out the window. “Wait, you drive here!? Phantom-san!”

Too late. They had already vaulted themself out the window. Shuichi let out a weary sigh, begrudgingly grabbing his coat and keys and walking out of his office the way any normal person would. You know, through the door.

Descending the building to the first floor, Shuichi found Phantom waiting out by the doors. He was surprised to see them waiting in such an open, obvious area, but it was pretty empty out tonight. Not many people were too keen on roaming the city streets at night, not with the recent crime rates. That's why Phantom had garnered so much attention; their peaceful crimes and flashy persona was a relief on the city.

“Saihara-chan, you’re too slow!” Phantom complained. “I got here, like, five minutes before you did!”

“That’s because you defenestrated yourself,” Shuichi argued. “Where’s your car?”

“Huh? Car?” For a moment, they looked confused. But then they seemed to remember. “Oh! Yeah, no, I walk here. We’ll have to ride in your car, Saihara-chan!” They poked at his cheek. “Also, I don't have a lisence. You’ll drive.”

Of course. He didn't even know why he was surprised.

“Okay, okay…” Shuichi pushed their hand away. “Let's just go. I want to know what this clue is.”

“It's not that long of a drive!” Phantom reassured him, already bounding towards his car. “You know where Hope’s Peak Academy is? It's about twenty minutes away from there.”

That was about a thirty minute drive. Shuichi could deal with that.

It felt strange, getting into the car with the person he had spent months trying to arrest. Now, he could only describe their relationship as… friendly? All of his attempts to arrest Phantom usually landed him on the ground with his shirt pulled over his face, as well as Phantom’s wild laughter and quick departure. So at some point, he had simply… stopped trying.

Some Ultimate Detective he was.

Actually, that reminded him. He looked over at Phantom, who was quietly watching the buildings pass by.

“Eyes on the road, Detective-chan,” Phantom reminded him, as if sensing his gaze.

“Ah…” Shuichi trained his eyes back on the road ahead. It felt strange, to see it so empty. “Sorry. I was just thinking. You act sort of like someone I dated in high school.”

He wasn't sure what else he was expecting but for Phantom to burst out into hysterical laughter.

“Really now? Tell me about Saihara-chan’s mysterious high school sweetheart!” Phantom encouraged him. “How’d you two break up?”

Shuichi wilted. “Wh-Why is that the first thing you’d ask?”

“Mm… Saihara-chan’s avoiding the question…”

“I'm not! I just…” Shuichi hesitated. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but… “Who remembers high school, anyway? I don't even remember his name, let alone how we broke up.”

Phantom frowned in disappointment. “Well that's pretty sad, now isn't it, Saihara-chan? But hey, you swing for the other team, huh? What’s your type?”

“Do I have to answer this?”

“Pleeease, Saihara-chan? ♡”

“Just… anyone, I guess,” Shuichi mumbled. “Gender doesn't matter much to me. But I haven’t dated anyone since… I think his name was Ouma? Ouma-kun.” He nodded slightly. “That sounds right. It was Ouma-kun.”

“So I do have a chance!” Phantom cheered. “If I ever see this Ouma-kun guy, I’m gonna make sure they know you’re mine now.”

Shuichi regretted saying anything. “Please leave Ouma-kun alone. I’m sure he was perfectly nice.”

Phantom was looking at him weird now. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, hoping he didn't look too obviously uncomfortable. He didn't mind being asked these kinds of questions, he just found them difficult to answer.

“What else do you remember from high school?” Phantom asked him. There was a different note in their voice now; not the lighthearted, teasing tone they had earlier. Now, they only sounded curious.

“...not much,” Shuichi admitted quietly. “It wasn't very eventful. I just helped other students solve minor cases, and I left sometimes to help at my uncle’s agency. I think the biggest thing I remember happening was a birthday party my friends threw for me. Other than that, there’s pretty much nothing else.”

“Was the party at least fun?”

Shuichi smiled fondly. “I think so.”

Phantom snorted. “You think. All of that effort, and you can't even remember it! Wooow, Saihara-chan! And when our one year anniversary comes around, are you gonna forget the fun we have together, too?”

“Phantom-san, we’re not dating.”

“Yet. ♡”

There's no getting through to them… Shuichi thought in defeat.

The rest of the car ride was relatively quiet. Realizing that Shuichi really couldn’t remember anything else, Phantom gave up on prodding him about his past, turning back to the window again. Shuichi focused on the road, letting Phantom guide him where to go from the passenger’s seat.

It took about as long as Phantom had estimated to arrive. Even shorter, when taking into account how empty the roads were.

The house was familiar, though Shuichi didn’t think he had ever been there before. Getting out of the car, the air somehow felt even colder as he looked at the house. It wasn't anything particularly ominous; it looked like any ordinary house you’d pass by on the street. Shuichi wondered what this strange feeling of unease was, rooting his feet to the floor.

“Here we are!” Phantom announced as they got out of the car. “Yeah, I know, it's kind of spooky. But in here is the final part of that sentence you’re trying to put together.”

Shuichi nodded, his words caught in his throat.

Phantom intertwined their hand with his, guiding him forwards. He appreciated the support– he didn't think he’d be able to make himself move forwards otherwise.

Stepping into the house was somehow worse. Shuichi felt like his soul was being sucked out of his body as he looked around, only being able to take in small details as Phantom pulled him along. The framed family photo of three, the bedroom door to a little kid’s room, the kitchen with an open back door. The details were a little blurry.

Finally, Phantom stopped at a door. They pointed at the label on it.

“WUXWK”

“...Phantom-san, how did you find this?” Shuichi tried to ask them.

Instead of an answer, he was abruptly shoved through the door.

“Ah–!” Shuichi yelped as he stumbled, very narrowly avoiding going tumbling down the stairs. He turned quickly, trying the knob. Locked. “What the–!? Phantom-san! Open the door!”

Of course, there was no response. He growled in frustration. He didn't know what he was expecting, trusting a criminal. At least he knew Phantouma didn’t intend to hurt him, so whatever was down here couldn't be that bad. But that didn't change the fact they had locked him down here.

He might as well check downstairs. Aside from what was written on the door, maybe there was a clue down there.

So despite his worries, despite his hesitance, Shuichi steeled his resolve and walked down the stairs.

The stairs went deep. When he thought he was reaching the end, he only continued walking down. His hand felt numb from sliding it against the railing, his legs and knees creaking with protest the further he went. The stairs grew steeper, more uneven, until finally…

He made it to the bottom.

The basement was dark, but surprisingly well cleaned. Actually, scratch that– it was pretty much entirely empty. There was a table with multiple different types of knives, chains hanging from the ceiling.

And at the very back, someone was sitting against the wall.

They looked up, and he found himself locking eyes with the younger Shuichi Saihara.

“Oh, no…” Shuichi stepped back, shaking his head. “No, no, no…”

His younger self was dressed in shorts and a bloody, previously white tank top. His hair was long and unkempt, nothing like how Shuichi usually liked to keep it. His left arm was gone, and although his right arm hadn’t been taken, two of his fingers had. His pinkie and ring finger were gone, leaving bloody holes in their wake.

“You,” his other self whispered. He surged upwards, somehow stumbling to his feet. “You’re back.”

Shuichi’s entire body felt numb. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his other self’s hand. The nails on his remaining fingers… had those been removed?

“Back?” Shuichi echoed weakly. “What are– no, no, no. I’m dreaming. This is just a dream.”

“Of course you are,” he snapped. “That’s all any of this has been. A dream. And I get it– it helped at first, but– but we can't stay here. It's going to fall apart.”

“Where’s Phantom-san?” Shuichi asked instead.

“Phan…?” He paused. “Is that who they are now? Phantom-san isn't real. None of this is real!”

What the hell is going on? Shuichi took another step back, feeling his heel touch the bottom step. He could run back up the stairs, beat on the door and shout for Phantom’s help. They wouldn’t abandon him, surely!

His other self suddenly seized his shoulder, his eyes wide and frantic. He jumped when he touched him, his hand feeling cold, cold, cold. “Please. I don't want to stay here. We can't stay here.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Shuichi insisted helplessly, fighting the urge to shrug off his bloody hand. “You’re not me. I don't know who you are, but I need to go.”

“We are the same person. You can't ignore me!” his other self cried. “I get it! Running away was all you could do. But we’re not here anymore!” He gestured to the space around them, which had gotten darker. Bloodier. “We’re in a hospital bed, dying, because you can't accept what happened!”

“Hospital…? What!?”

His other self seethed. “Shuichi. If we don't wake up, we’re going to die. Don't you understand that? This world isn't real, out there is. You have to face what happened to us.”

What… happened…?

(the crunch of bones

the tearing of ligaments

the screams of his own voice

no no no no no no no no)

“No…” Shuichi pushed them back, shaking his head. “No, I don't want to. I want to stay here.”

“So you want to die?”

“No! I don't want to die either! But…” Shuichi looked down at his own hands… hand?

(This body is fake.)

(This body is who he was. Twenty-seven year old Shuichi Saihara, best detective in the city.)

His other self’s bloody hand cupped one of his cheeks. He looked desperate.

“You are a seventeen year old high school student dying of your injuries in a hospital bed,” his other self said, his voice firm, his words shaking. “Your uncle, your boyfriend, all of your friends are waiting for you to wake up. You need to open your eyes. You need to tell yourself the truth.”

“What truth?” Shuichi demanded incredulously. “I don't know what happened! I don't know– who even are you?”

“I'm the you you’re trying to get rid of,” his other self replied vaguely. “I'm the part of you who survived what that woman did to us. I'm the one who has to try and make you accept that we are the same person. Because if I fail this time, we’re going to die!”

Shuichi could barely breathe.

(how long had it been? he could feel his arm. his arm was gone

his fingers were going away, too. one, by one, by–

crunch

no no stop stop stop stop that's his that's his give it back please not in front of him please)

Shake off the memory. Stay focused, Shuichi.

“‘Every time’?” Shuichi echoed. “What do you–”

“Every time you find out the truth, you always run back to your– your stupid fictional world,” his other self cut him off. “You either stab me with your dagger, or you shoot me with your gun, or you choke me until I ‘die’. But you can't get rid of me! You will never, ever get rid of me, and you need to accept that so that we can leave!”

“I-If… if you’re the me that survived whatever it was that happened, why would I want you?” Shuichi shot back. “I don't want to remember whatever that is… it seems horrible.”

“It was horrible,” his other self confirmed bitterly. “It was disgusting, and painful, and terrifying. But we’re not there anymore. That woman is never going to touch us again. I'm not saying you have to get over it, I'm saying that you need to accept that it happened.”

“I like this life!” Shuichi argued. “I like working as a detective, and chasing Phantom-san, and I like the life I’ve built for myself here. Even if it's not real, it's better.”

“Phantom-san is you,” his other self snapped. “Phantom-san doesn't care for you. Phantom-san is a thing that looks like our boyfriend that's trying to make you remember! Phantom-san is the part of you that understands! What about our real boyfriend? Ouma-kun?”

“Ouma-kun…” Shuichi murmured. He couldn't even remember Ouma’s face.

“Do you know what Ouma-kun did for us?” His other self hissed, practically touching noses with him, with how close they got. “Ouma-kun let himself get kidnapped. He waited every night in the spot we were taken–”

–the birthday party, walking down the street to Akamatsu-san’s house–

“–until he was taken too. He did that just to save us.”

A memory flashed white in the forefront of his mind. Kokichi, begging him to stay awake, holding his only remaining hand in his own. Kokichi, guiding him up the stairs, even though he couldn't respond.

“Our uncle is worrying himself sick. Our friends are falling behind academically because of us,” his other self continued, his voice breaking. “They want us back. Do you want to keep playing pretend with fragments of yourself until you die in a hospital bed, or do you want to become whole? Don't you want to wake up?”

He didn't. He really, really didn't. Waking up meant “accepting” what had happened to him, and he didn't want to. He didn't want to face what had been done to him! He didn’t want to think about it! He didn't want to think about the crunching of his bones, the smell of cooked skin, the taste of his own flesh being forced down his throat.

He could hear the sharpening of a knife echo in the basement. He wanted to cry.

“I know it's tempting,” he told himself. “I know you think it's better here. But staying here will kill you, and I know you want to live. I know you want to keep living, to graduate from Hope’s Peak with all of your friends. You need to see Momota-kun go to space. You need to go to Akamatsu-san’s recitals. You need to help Harukawa-san.” His breath shuddered. He cried. “Y-You need to grow old with Ouma-kun, and make your aunt and uncle proud. Please, Shuichi… I don't want to go yet. I don't want to die.”

He only had one arm, but he made do. He hugged himself. Shuichi’s own arms stayed at his side. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. His own cheeks felt wet with tears.

“What happened to us… is unforgivable. Unthinkable,” he whispered. “But our life isn't over. We have so much support around us. And as a detective, we can put people like her in prison, exactly where they belong. So that they never, ever hurt anyone else.”

He didn't want to accept it. He didn't want to accept something like that could– had happened to him. He didn't even know what that something was, and he didn't want to. He didn't want the memories!

(his hands tied above his head

a needle piercing his lips)

A weak sob escaped him. He felt cold, as if he was falling.

(“Come on, Saihara-chan, keep your eyes open. J-Just a little more…”)

He didn't want to.

Slowly, he raised his arms, shaking.

He didn't want to accept it.

His back felt warm beneath his hand. To either accept himself, or kill himself.

He didn't want to do either.

But,

he knew he had to choose.

The hospital was light.

Birds chirped outside. Sunlight streamed onto his face.

He blinked up at the ceiling, feeling paralyzed.

He was alive. For some reason, somehow, he was alive.

Voices around him. He didn't know who they were. He recognized that they sounded relieved, but their identities remained unknown. He couldn't turn his head, or even really move his eyes. He didn't think he wanted to.

All he knew was that whoever was around him, they were safe. They saved him.

I'm alive, he thought, simply because he could.

I'm alive.