4/17

"This is so cool."

"Quiet!"

"I know, I know. But still, this is so cool."

"It won't be cool if we get caught."

"Alright, my bad. Seriously though-"

"Skull, shut up!"

Panther flushes when the words leave her, and Joker holds up his hand to signal a halt. The four thieves pause, separated as they are atop the chandeliers, and peer at the Shadows below.

They are deeper in the Castle, traversing a grand hall with marbled columns and a wide stairwell leading up to a breathtakingly revolting portrait of Kamoshida. The room is thick with Shadows, and the thieves had decided upon an alternate route.

Joker crouches on the gold grate of the chandelier. He balances by grasping the fixture's chain.

Below, a Shadow stops and looks up. The hollow, black sockets of its mask scan the ceiling, but it fails to spot them. It continues on its short route around the hall, an automaton on a track.

Each thief breathes a sigh of relief. "Nice going, Panther," Skull whispers.

"Me? That was all your fault."

"Enough, you two!" Mona says, waving his arms in the air. "Save it for when we're clear."

Joker smiles and jumps to the next chandelier. This thrills him. His body feels weightless and responsive, not bound by the minor inconveniences of the real world. It does what he wants, how he wants.

He lands on the far balcony, crouches, and darts up to the corner leading to the next room. The others stack behind him. "Shadow?" Mona asks.

Joker nods.

"Should we try out the weapons?" asks Skull.

Joker draws the toy pistol from his jacket. There's a heft to it here absent in the real world. The plastic is harsher, nearly metal. The shine isn't juvenile but aggressive. "Let's."

The others draw, and Joker runs up behind the Shadow, springs onto its back, wraps his free hand under its mask, and pulls. It rips away, and as Joker leaps clear, the Shadow convulses and erupts into a globule of black slime. The slime contorts and sloughs away to reveal a charcoal armored knight astride a tall destrier. In its hand, it holds a golden trident.

"Intruders!" It cries, but the four thieves surround it, weapons trained.

The Shadow pulls on the reins and shifts its focus from one to another.

"Get wrecked!" Skull shouts and squeezes the trigger of his shotgun. A volley of bullets crash into the creature, puncture its armor, and it quakes and falls to the ground with a groan. Its trident clangs against the tiled floor.

"Stop, you knaves!" It tries to bellow, but its voice is strained and labored.

Joker lowers his gun.

"Should we finish it off?" Panther asks.

Joker walks over to it, and the creature turns its helm towards him. He does not know why he is doing this. The world has dimmed; the voices of his friends are faint.

"Y-you are-" The creature chokes out, but Joker interrupts.

"I am thou," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Thou art I," the creature says. The wounds vanish. It stands and retakes the reins. It kneels, steals up the trident. "I am Berith."

It collapses into a point of blue flame, resolves itself into a copy of Joker's mask, and dashes forward before latching itself onto the boy's face.

"A-Akira!" He hears Skull shout, codenames forgotten.

Electricity swims through his blood as he reels from what has happened. He feels heavier, as if he has inhaled too much air.

"Halt!" Comes a voice.

"Shit!" Skull cries.

A guard Shadow charges them with a sword held high. Joker steps forward and rips the mask from his face with a cry. "Berith!"

The knight materializes into a charge, and the guard halts just long enough for it to be lanced through by the golden trident. Berith rides him the rest of the room, slamming the guard into the wall. A low groan escapes its mask as it dissolves, and Berith returns to Joker's side at a trot, trident held smartly.

The three thieves stare.

"What the hell just happened?" Panther asks.

Skull looks down at Mona. "Did Joker just use that other Shadow against that Shadow?"

"I-I think so!" Mona runs up to him and begins to bounce in the air. "You can summon more than one Persona?"

Joker shrugs. "Can't we all?"

"No! Of course we can't! One person, one Persona! That's the rule!"

"It's a rule?"

"W-well, I don't know for sure. But I can only call Zorro. Panther, Carmen. Skull, The Captain! But you just, I don't know, captured that Shadow and turned it into a Persona!" Heavy, stomping footsteps echo from down the hall. Mona groans. "Come on. We need to find the next Safe Room. We'll continue this talk inside."

Once tucked into the small room – this bearing the resemblance of what Panther identifies as the Home Economics room - and safe from Shadows, Joker tells them how it felt. While he explains it and the others debate its significance, he remembers something said to him in a dream.

"Were you under the impression you could only wear one mask?"

Was this what Igor had meant?

None of this feels strange to him. "Guys," he says as the others converse. They stop. "We should keep going."

"Are you sure?" Mona asks. "We don't know what this means."

"But it's not a bad thing. If I can carry other Personae, we have more abilities at our disposal."

"That's a good point," Panther says.

"Yeah, he stuck it to that other Shadow!" Skull puts in.

Mona nods. "Well then, let's keep going."

#

The deeper they go, the more he collects. Mask after mask. They fill his mind like bees.

"This is like Pokémon!" Skull shouts, pumping his fist into the air as Joker takes another.

"What's that?" Mona asks.

They continue.

The physics of the Metaverse becomes apparent, even as they avoid any kind of sense. Valuable-looking knickknacks fill room after room of Kamoshida's Castle, and as the thieves snatch and steal, they find the things fall into their pockets and weigh as little as lint. Their costumes are their own little universes, capable of holding an almost infinite amount of material. The medicine, which Joker had worried would break with all the battling, is safe and secure within the little pouches on Mona's tool belt.

Some levels down, they find the shrines. They are - of all places - built into a series of libraries. They are semi-circular in shape, hallowed in all else. Each holds dozens of candles, which illuminate the photographs on the wall in a smoky light. Each has a homunculus construction: a photo lathered with what looks like saliva where the head should be.

One for each girl, it seems.

Panther finds Shiho's shrine and cannot speak.

Skull finds Ann's and decides to stay quiet about it.

Joker finds another, and the photographs are of a girl he knows well - by sight - at this point. Makoto Niijima, her eyes turned towards him shyly, her cheeks tint with red, her clothes shorn or in a state of deliberate undress. A dozen of these photos stare down at him.

They reconvene in the center of the library, each lost in their mind. "This is sick," Panther finally says. No one replies, but everyone agrees.

"Moths to a flame."

They turn.

A guard Shadow in golden armor lumbers into the library, arches its back, and erupts.

A massive blot of black stretches into the air and resolves itself into a fifteen-foot tall satyr, horns scratching the ceiling, tongue lolling down near its stomach, cloven hoofs stomping a slow, menacing beat. Its wrists end in furred hands, which end in needled claws. "None can resist the temptations of King Kamoshida's harem!" Its voice is scratchy, but it booms. "My Lord knew you'd come through here! He permitted me the honor of breaking you!"

Skull holds his pipe in one hand, his shotgun in the other. "You'd better get out of our way!"

The beast's mouth opens, and a song flies forth. Musical notes made manifest, sharp as razor blades hurtle towards them.

"Scatter!" Mona shouts, and they fling themselves in different directions.

Joker pulls his pistol, feet still off the ground, and fires a barrage at the satyr. The bullets puncture its pale red flesh, but the thing reacts without pain. Joker lands in a roll and comes to rest behind a reading table, as notes splinter the wood.

"Zorro!" Mona, who crouches atop one of the stacks, calls. His Persona rises before him. "Garu!" A gust of wind slams into the satyr’s stomach, and it grunts before it turns and hurls itself at Mona's perch. The shelf of books smashes to pieces at the impact, and Mona goes cartwheeling through the air, a feline scream on his lips.

Panther circles and summons Carmen, and as the satyr picks itself up, a wreath of flame springs up across him. It laughs, and the flames reverse and speed towards the girl. "W-what?" Panther asks before the fire hits her in the face. She yelps in pain and flies back, landing on a table and sliding across it before finally crashing to the ground.

"Shit!" Skull dashes to her side. "Mona, get over here!" The cat limps along and approaches the two. "You gotta heal her!"

Joker rises from his hiding place. "Arsene!" His Persona manifests above him, screeches, and flings its tendrils at the satyr. The monster rolls, avoiding most of the shards, but a few sink into its calves. It roars in reply, kicks itself free, and charges for Joker.

"No you don't!" Skull shouts as Mona hits Panther with a Dia.

He leaps up onto the table. "Fry em, Captain Kidd!" The buccaneer manifests, fires its weapon, and a ball of electricity hits the attacker in the side. It screeches and hits the floor, and a groan escapes it.

Mona's ears perk up. "That's it! It's weak to electricity!"

Joker shouts, "Skull!"

"On it!"

Both boys leap into the air, and as they descend upon the slowly rising creature, Skull cries, "One more time, Cap'n!" while Joker calls forth, "Agathion!" The little blue devil trapped in a golden vase - another of Joker's acquisitions - spawns besides Captain Kidd. Both Personae screech, and a series of electric strikes dance across the satyr’s back.

It screams in pain, hurls itself up, and backs defensively against the nearest bookshelf.

"My turn." They turn and find Panther on her feet, hair disheveled but otherwise unharmed. She hurls out her whip, and it lashes around the satyr’s feet, dragging them together. The monster tries to break free, but Panther grabs her weapon in both hands and pulls tight, teeth gritted. "Finish it!"

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Joker charges. "Mona!"

"Right!" The cat darts alongside him, and they both fling themselves at the enemy. Joker punches his blade into the satyr’s chest as Mona's falchion finds its home alongside. The monster's head tilts back, and its moan is high and worn.

"Skull!" Joker shouts.

"You got it!" Skull crosses the floor in a sprint, leaps into the air, and grips his pipe in both hands. "Take this, asshole!" He screams and brings the pipe down into the center of the monster's face. Its breath catches, and then it dissolves into a pile of ash. Unbalanced, Mona and Joker pitch forward, the former landing in a pile of stuff, the latter into a flamboyant crouch.

Silence, save for heavy breathing.

Joker straightens, adjusts his gloves, and asks, "Everyone okay?"

Panther groans and collapses across one of the still intact reading tables. "I'm pooped."

Mona rises, spitting ash out of his mouth. "I hate to say it, but that one took a lot out of me."

"The hell was that thing?" Skull asks, pulling a chair from one of the desks and dropping into it.

"It said something about Kamoshida's harem," Panther says and props herself up on one elbow. "Talk about gross."

"Are you alright?" Joker asks her. "It reflected that fire at you."

She beams. "Mona fixed me up, no problem."

Mona reaches a paw into one of his pouches. "Anyone need medicine?"

"I'm good," Skull says and drops his head forward. "I'm kind of exhausted, though."

Joker takes stock. They have gone far, but not far enough. Mona can 'sense' the Treasure, and therefore knows it's still a long way off. They've already used some medicine, and Skull scarfed down most of the energy bars they'd brought. "We should go back," he says.

"For real?" Skull asks, straightening. "I can keep going!"

"Joker's right," Mona replies and hops up onto Panther's table. "We don't want to risk running out of steam. We're all tired. If we keep going, we could get hurt or worse. So we should head home, rest up, and come back soon. We've made enough progress today."

“Besides,” Joker says. “I have an appointment.”

#

The door to the exam room opens, and a tall, lanky man with dark wavy hair sticks his head inside as if unsure if he's entered the correct room. "Akira Kurusu?" He asks.

Akira nods, from where he sits on the exam table.

"Great," the man says and adjusts his thick glasses. He steps inside, armed with a chart and a white coat that betrays his profession without him having to say it. "I'm Doctor Takuto Maruki. Apologies for the wait."

"It's no problem," Akira says and then has to shut down a yawn. With infiltrating Kamoshida's Castle, there'd been no single timeframe Akira could give Sojiro to schedule the MRI, so he had asked his caretaker to make the appointment later in whichever day Sojiro could take him. That way, Akira figured, he could infiltrate the Castle and attend the appointment afterward and cross this off his to-do list.

The MRI itself had been straightforward. Sit still for a few minutes, let the big machine do its work. Sojiro was outside, waiting, and Akira had marveled at the man respecting his privacy enough to do that. Akira was starting to think he had Sojiro Sakura figured a bit wrong.

"So then," Doctor Maruki says, stepping inside and closing the door. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Akira replies, like you're supposed to.

"I understand that you're here due to your presence at the recent train crash? That your local doctor, Doctor, uh, Takemi," he says, checking the chart, "recommended you get an MRI to see if you were suffering any kind of damage?" He smiles. "We tend to want to get those done sooner rather than later." Akira opens his mouth, but the doctor's smile grows, and he holds up his hand. "Please, it's fine. I understand how busy you young adults are these days."

You've got no idea, Akira thinks but just smiles back and nods. "The good news is that I can't detect any damage I would associate with an accident of that nature."

"Oh," Akira says. "That's good."

"Very good, though I recommend you take steps to avoid any fallout that might be associated with the accident."

Akira blinks. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Maruki nods and sits down in the chair alongside the exam table. "Frankly, Kurusu, I would recommend seeking a counselor to discuss the recent events in your life." Akira stares at the man, not sure he can believe what he is hearing. "You did fill out a form with your recent information. I know you're a recent transfer student to Shujin Academy, and if that weren't stressful enough, you were involved in that subway accident a few days ago. And, from what I understand, a girl publically attempted suicide at your school a few days ago. If I may be blunt, that's a lot."

"Oh," Akira says. "Yeah." He tries to smile but recalls the image of Shiho Suzui jumping off the building, and then his brain promptly shoves it away. "I suppose."

"Let me guess," Maruki says. "You've been keeping yourself plenty busy?"

“You could say that.”

"The brain is a remarkable thing," Maruki says, as if expecting that response. "And one thing it is very good at is protecting itself, protecting you. Some recent studies have shown that engaging in activity that requires focus and attention can interrupt the process of memory consolidation.

“For example, in one case, patients who played engaging video games soon after a violent car crash experienced significantly less PTSD flashbacks to the event, than those who did not. But we've no idea if that's a band-aid or a long-term benefit, and that's if you consider shorting out of the brain's ability to process memories a benefit."

Akira finds that he is rubbing his hands together and forces himself to stop. "I'm not sure what you're telling me, Doctor."

The man looks at Akira with a kind of understanding that Akira feels he should appreciate, but doesn't. "I'm saying that you've experienced a significant amount of stress over these last few weeks, and I think it would only benefit you to speak to a therapist.

“Engaging in activity in the short term and keeping busy is a viable strategy, but not one I'm sure you can maintain forever. Sooner or later, we have to deal with the things that have affected us. Better to do it proactively, then to wait for something to trigger it."

"You're saying I should speak to a therapist?" Akira asks. Sojiro will just love paying for one, Joker mumbles. Then Akira reconsiders. Maybe Sojiro would.

"I think it would be a smart move. It doesn't have to be permanent, but speaking in a safe environment about these things would be good for you."

Akira nods. "Alright. I'll consider it." He starts to shift off the table. "Did you have anything else to speak to me about?"

"I do, actually," Maruki says, and his voice grows a bit more serious. "It's about the results of the MRI."

"I thought you said that you couldn't find any damage?"

"I couldn't find anything I would associate with damage due to the train crash," Maruki says, frowning. "But that doesn't mean I found nothing."

Panic chemicals flood Akira's bloodstream, and a dozen half-formed nightmare scenarios play through his mind. "What's wrong with me?" Akira asks.

Maruki blinks. "It's nothing like that, Kurusu." He smiles, but Akira is not convinced. "Now, don't worry too much when I ask you this, but are you feeling alright? Have you experienced any hallucinations? Any headaches? Anything you've seen or heard or strange thoughts that you can't explain or understand why you would experience?"

"That doesn't sound like nothing," Akira snaps. He thinks of the first time he saw Arsene. He thinks of the counterpart in the subway just before the train crash. He thinks of the Shadow he saw in the school's hallway. He thinks of Kamoshida’s Castle. "No," he says. "But, all that stuff you said about stress? I've been feeling that way for a while now. I transferred schools for a reason. I got into trouble in my hometown."

"Anything drug-related?" Maruki asks, sounding for all the world like he isn't judging. Akira shakes his head. "Alright. So stress, then. Well, I have to say that this isn't something we typically see associated with stress." He opens the chart and shows Akira a picture of what Akira assumes is his brain. Certain sections are colored. "This," Maruki says and points to a band near the back of the brain. "Is the occipital lobe, and this," and he points to a clump on the underside, similarly colored, "is the temporal lobe." He hands Akira the photos. "The occipital lobe is responsible for processing visual information, and the temporal lobe does the same, but for auditory info. We see and hear a lot, so we use them a lot. However, your occipital and temporal lobes are more active."

"More active?" Akira asks. "More active than what?"

"Than normal," Maruki answers. At the look Akira must be giving him, he lifts his hands placatingly. "Please understand, this isn't cause for concern. It's just a little odd. Normally, we might see something like this as a result of inflammation, but there's no evidence of that."

"So what's causing it? Is it bad?"

"No. It's not bad, per se." 'Per se!?’ Akira thinks. "It's just, uh, well, it's as if your brain is processing more visual and audio information than is actually there. Not to the extent that it will cause any harm, but it's something we should keep an eye on. Let's follow up in a few weeks, have another look, and see how things have progressed. As to what causes it, I wouldn't think stress, but I'm not sure what else could be doing it. Though I've never seen a stress reaction like this."

Well, Akira thinks. If it's not a stress reaction, there's only one thing that could be causing it. Kamoshida's Palace. The Metaverse. But why?

"Again," Maruki says, "I don't think this is anything to worry about. The increase in activity isn't something that would cause any kind of damage, and it's not the kind of jump that sets off alarms. It's just something we think we should keep an eye on, which is why I want to take another scan in a few weeks. You can speak with the receptionist out front to set up another appointment. Beyond that, I think you should talk to a therapist. Handling any anxieties and stress levels might make this go away."

"Yeah," Akira says. "Okay. Thanks." What else is there to say? Something is happening in Akira'a brain, and it has to do with the Metaverse. But he can't say anything about the Metaverse to Doctor Maruki because Doctor Maruki would not believe him. Even if he whipped out his phone and showed Doctor Maruki the app to get to the Metaverse, it wasn't as if the man would keep quiet about it. So Akira would have to look into this on his own.

The only problem was, he had no idea how to do that.

4/18

The winged retainer of the Lord spreads its arms wide. One hand grips a sword, and the splays in worship. "Repent," it cries, "if ever you hope to enjoy the splendors of His Kingdom!"

Bullets cascade up towards it but collide harmlessly with an invisible barrier. The helmed servitor dips its head and regards Panther and Skull, weapons empty, in the Chapel Center. "Such is the protection bestowed by Him."

Skull cracks a grin. "What's God’s stance on tridents?"

"Berith!"

The golden, three-pronged weapon punches through the creature’s back, and it moans in pain.

Joker smiles and emerges from his hiding place. Berith vanishes, but the wound in the holy defender remains. It falls towards the ground, and a buffeting wind slams into its side. Mona's Zorro swings its rapier, and the thing smashes into the pews below.

As one, they swarm it. Blades, whip, and pipe bash into it, and the creature rears its head up once more and collapses into ash.

Skull sits in a pew, breath coming hard. "Holy shit, dude. That was worse than that thing in the library."

"Mooona," Panther whines. "How much further until we find this stupid Treasure?"

"I think we're halfway."

"Halfway?" Skull groans. "But, like, that means we've still got half to go!"

"We know what halfway means, Skull."

Joker snatches a chalice off the altar and slides it into his pocket. He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck.

"Hey," Skull says as he looks from one thief to another. "Can we really do this?"

"Oh, come on," Joker says, turning back to them. A smirk is worn well across his face. "This wouldn't be fun if it was easy. Let's keep going."

They drag themselves to their feet and continue out of the chapel, deeper into Kamoshida's Palace. Joker and Mona take the lead, while Panther and Skull hang back to watch the rear.

"Hey," Panther whispers, as their leader and their cat duck into a hall ahead of them. "Skull."

"What?"

"Have you noticed anything weird about Joker?"

"What'd you mean?"

Panther checks to ensure no enemies pursue, then says, "He acts so different over here."

Skull cocks open his shotgun, reloads it, and snaps it closed. "You mean from how he is in the real world?" Panther nods. "Yeah, I've noticed that too. But that's probably because of the whole Persona thing, right?"

"But we have Personae, and we don't act all that different between the real world and here."

They round the corner and spy Mona and Joker ahead. The former waves them forward.

Panther sighs as they jog towards the two. "I guess I’m just wondering who he’s more like naturally. Joker or Akira.”

"Dude, I don't know," Skull says and glares at her. "And codenames, remember? Also, do you really think this is the time to be askin' these questions?"

"You're right. Sorry."

They battle their way further and come to the base of a grand tower. Mona points skyward. "The Treasure is up there."

"All the way up there?" Skull asks, with a groan.

Exhausted, the four agree to find a Safe Room and return to the real world, their objective eluding them still.

#

Makoto's hands sting. She ignores this. She throws another haymaker, and the brutal slap on her taped knuckles against the leather punching bag reverberates throughout the empty gymnasium.

The chrome workout machines are idle, the treadmills and ellipticals powered down, the air is chilled via conditioner and glances off her sweat-soaked body like tiny pins. Her breath is heavy but not labored. She knows how to do this. She is very good at this.

A roundhouse kick, and Makoto feels it in her teeth. This is fine. If this bleeds off some of her anger, even better. She continues her barrage for a few more minutes before she stops and snatches her water bottle off the ground.

She takes a swig, then looks to make sure no one else is present before she drizzles a bit into her hair. It runs down her face, and she shivers, but it feels good. The last time she did this, an older man had been working out on an elliptical and had whistled in a rather suggestive way. The memory adds fuel to her fire, and she sets the bottle back on the ground and returns her attention to the bag.

The bag she imagines is Akira Kurusu.

The bastard stood her up. Again.

She had waited in the library after school, just as she'd said she would. After everything that had happened with Suzui, Makoto looked forward to exploring topics she understood. The familiarity of the subjects brought a sense of clarity to her, one she desperately needed.

Only, he had never shown up. So Makoto sat in the library, waiting, unable to believe he would have the UNEQUIVOCAL NERVE to do this again.

She had waited and waited and waited. Then she had packed up her bags, left the school, and returned home. Makoto decided she would take a college practice exam, but found she could not focus, which further infuriated her. So, she changed into her workout clothes and took the elevator down to her apartment complex's basement gym.

Now, she throws the heel of her foot into the center of the bag. The force is too great, and her balance falters. She waves her arms in the air, like an unstable penguin, but fails to regain it and drops onto the mat.

She sighs, sprawls out spread-eagle, and stares at the fluorescent lights above. Why am I so mad? Kurusu is just another delinquent, like Sakamoto. Hell, the two had become fast friends. Kurusu kept company with Ann Takamaki, as well. Makoto hadn’t bought ‘The Biology of Shrimp’ bit for one second. They were up to something; Makoto was sure of it. And so what if they were? If Kurusu didn't respect Makoto’s time, why should she even care? This worked out. If she didn't have to tutor him, then she could return her attention to the things that mattered. She still had work to do if she wanted to get into a top college.

The things that matter.

She sees Shiho Suzui's broken body on the courtyard's grass. Sees Ann Takamaki knelt next to her friend, beyond distraught. She sees herself, Student Council President, struck still in horror at the edge of the gawking crowd.

I couldn't do anything.

She shuts her eyes. She will not think about that scene. Nor what it says about her. She pushes it aside and refocuses. Akira Kurusu.

After what had happened the previous week, she would've thought he would honor his word to be at their study session. And I'd been looking forward to it too...

She clenches her hands and gets up. Best not to dwell on that. Best to move on. She hits the bag for a few more minutes, then returns upstairs.

When Sae comes home, she sits at the dinner table and thanks Makoto for the food. Makoto smiles and waits for more, but her big sister gives nothing.

"Hey, Sis?" Makoto asks afterward, as she brings the plates to the sink.

"Hm?" Sae stares at her black bag with a scrunched-up face like she’s tasted something too bitter, which she dumped on the couch upon returning home.

Makoto puts the plates in the sink and turns on the water. She tries to find the right words. "Can you-"

Sae stands. "Sorry, but I can't stay. I need to get back to the office."

Makoto turns, and water drips from her hands onto the floor. "But, you just got home."

"There's a case that needs my attention," Sae says. She retreats to her room and returns a few moments later with some fresh clothes. She opens her bag, shoves them inside, and heads for the door. "Goodnight." She opens the door and steps out into the hall.

"Goodnight," Makoto says as the door shuts.

She stands in the kitchen for a time. Then, she turns back to the dishes. She needs a focal point. Akira Kurusu, she decides. She will speak to him tomorrow. She scrubs the plates with a bit more vigor than usual.

#

When Akira sits up in bed that night, eyes wide, and the words, "Oh shit!" escaping into the air, it is enough to spook Morgana off his comfy spot and onto the hardwood floor.

"Wh-what?" Morgana asks, rolling to his feet. "What's happening?"

Akira looks down at the cat. Even in the dark, Morgana can see the whites of his eyes. "I forgot to study with Niijima-senpai."