PERSONA 3 DEVIL'S HERALD

...27/08/2009 Tuesday; Dark Hour...

In Minato's room, an eerie silence lingered, a veil of mystery hanging between him and Pharos—a visitor who, over time, had ceased to be a surprise.

Ever since the contract was signed, Pharos had appeared near every full moon, each encounter bringing new enigmas and trials that tested both Minato's heart and mind.

Minato locked eyes with the pale-skinned boy before him, his dark hair framing a face that bore a gentle, almost reassuring smile.

Pharos's eyes held a depth that seemed to peer into the soul, but Minato had long since grown accustomed to the strange presence of his visitor.

"It's been a while since we last met. You're handling the challenges well," Pharos remarked, his voice as calm and enigmatic as ever.

Minato sighed, running a hand through his blue hair as he slowly sat up.

He moved to the edge of the bed, the blanket slipping to the floor, and faced Pharos directly, as if trying to decipher the boy.

"You could say that… but why are you here?" Minato asked, his voice still heavy with the fatigue of the night.

Pharos averted his gaze for a moment, as though lost in thought.

Something seemed to stir within his mind—a distant, blurred memory.

He looked up at the ceiling before speaking again, his words laced with mystery.

"I came to ask if you're ready for the next trial. With each step, you draw closer to the truth."

Minato's eyes narrowed, curiosity flickering within them. "And what truth would that be?" he asked, his gaze locked onto Pharos's eyes.

Pharos maintained his soft tone, his smile carrying the weight of an unfathomable secret. "The truth that you are veiled from seeing, so that, in the end… you may witness what was always meant for you."

His words hung in the air like a riddle, echoing through the room.

Slowly, Pharos walked toward the window, where the eerie green glow of the Dark Hour seeped through the glass, casting an ominous light over the room.

Outside, the silence was suffocating, time frozen as it always was during this hour.

Pharos fixed his gaze upon the moon, as if waiting for something.

"He is almost awake…" he whispered, and there was a gravity in his voice that sent a chill through Minato's spine.

Minato felt an unfamiliar presence stir within his chest—something that was not Pharos, yet seemed inexplicably connected to him.

"Who?" Minato asked, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Pharos turned, spreading his arms wide as if presenting something both magnificent and terrifying.

A cryptic smile danced upon his lips, and the air around them grew heavier, almost tangible.

"The Devil's Herald ..."

Suddenly, the distant toll of a bell reverberated through the room—a deep, solemn sound that sent vibrations through the walls, a reminder of Tartarus's ever-present watch.

Even as someone accustomed to the Dark Hour, the bell's chime sent shivers down Minato's spine, his body instinctively reacting to the sound.

Pharos stepped closer once more, his soft voice a stark contrast to the weight of his revelation.

"Well, it seems our time is up. I hope everything goes well on the next full moon. Good night, Minato. And… good luck."

With those final words, the boy began to fade, his figure slowly dissolving into nothing as the Dark Hour neared its end.

The eerie green glow gave way to the gentle shimmer of stars in the night sky, and Minato's room returned to normal.

Yet the weight of their conversation still lingered in the air.

Minato let out a slow breath, his gaze falling upon his combat jacket hanging on the wall.

Every time he spoke with Pharos, more questions arose, and no answer ever felt enough.

His eyes narrowed, confusion clouding his thoughts.

"But… who or what is the Devil's Herald?" he murmured to himself, knowing that something was about to happen to everyone in S.E.E.S.

...28/08/2009 Friday; Afternoon...

The afternoon sun shone brightly in the sky, reflecting the joy and movement of the ongoing film festival that kept the city alive.

People wandered the streets, enjoying the moment, but Chidori, with her long red hair and distant expression, remained detached from it all.

Seated on a bench near the cinema, her dark brown eyes were fixed on the sketchbook resting on her lap, her pencil moving across the page in near silence.

Her white gothic dress contrasted starkly with the heat of the afternoon, yet she seemed indifferent to the weather.

As she sketched, a shadow suddenly blocked the light bathing her notebook.

She lifted her gaze, finding Junpei standing in front of her, hands shoved into his pockets, an uncertain smile on his face.

"You again?" Chidori's voice was cold, slicing through the air without a trace of surprise or interest.

Junpei hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the fact that she actually remembered him.

He scratched his head, trying to piece together his thoughts before responding.

"Ah... I... uhh..." He stumbled over his words before managing, "I'm kinda surprised you remember me. What was your name again?"

Chidori glanced at him with disinterest before returning to her drawing. "I could say the same about you," she replied coolly, her voice devoid of emotion.

Junpei took a quick glance at Chidori's unusual attire. "Well, I mean, your outfit is pretty memorable," he said, attempting to lighten the mood with a casual comment.

Chidori scoffed, clearly unimpressed, and continued sketching without acknowledging his words.

Unsure of what else to say, Junpei took a step closer, peering over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her drawing.

His eyes widened at the chaotic lines on the paper, an indecipherable tangle of shapes and shadows.

"So, uhhh... what are you doing?" he asked, curious but cautious.

Chidori paused her pencil for a moment and studied his confused expression.

"A drawing. Why ask something so obvious?" she responded, her focus returning to the paper.

Junpei rubbed the back of his neck, trying to make sense of her. "Ahh, well... I mean, it's cool that you have a hobby. It's nice to have something you enjoy doing."

Chidori shook her head in disagreement, her voice remaining emotionless. "It's not what you think. I don't draw for enjoyment. I draw because I must."

Junpei frowned, puzzled. "Ehhh... I see." He definitely did not see.

Chidori, seemingly losing patience, tucked her pencil into an inner pocket of her dress, shut her sketchbook, and stood up to leave.

That's when Junpei noticed something alarming—small drops of blood staining the pavement.

"Whoa, hey! Your hand!" he blurted out, rushing toward her. Without thinking, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping away the blood.

"What the hell happened!? You're bleeding!" His concern was evident, but Chidori yanked her hand away, irritation flashing in her eyes.

"What's wrong with you? Mind your own business," she snapped.

Junpei's brows furrowed, frustration creeping into his voice. "Are you serious right now!? I can't just ignore this!"

Chidori stared at him, her cold expression momentarily breaking with the faintest trace of confusion.

It was as if she couldn't comprehend why he was reacting this way.

"Why are you so flustered?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"What? Who wouldn't be flustered!? You should go see a doctor. Uhhh, do you want me to go with you?" He looked at her, unsure of what kind of response to expect.

Chidori remained silent for a moment, her eyes studying Junpei once again. "You're... strange," she murmured, turning away from him.

As the quiet stretched between them, Chidori lifted her gaze toward the clear afternoon sky.

"It's Chidori," she said softly.

Junpei blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "My name is Chidori. You asked earlier. Yours is Junpei, isn't it?"

Junpei finally recalled his earlier question. "Oh, right. Yeah, I'm Junpei Iori."

Chidori turned forward again. "I'm almost finished with my drawing. I doubt you'll understand it, but if you want to see, you know where to find me."

With that, she began walking away, her steps slow and deliberate.

Junpei stood there, watching as she disappeared into the crowd.

His thoughts wandered for a moment before he shook his head, snapping back to reality.

"She's... really weird," he muttered to himself, though a small smile crept onto his lips. "Still, I kinda think she's interesting. And seriously... how does she handle wearing that outfit in this heat?"