Within seconds, the train pulls up in front of me, screeching to a halt, doors opening to the welcomingly air-conditioned interior.

I step in, still feeling safe. I know this subway line. I've taken it countless times, every weekday in fact, to school and back—

Then I realize that it's different and stop feeling safe. The names of the stops are different. I can't even read the characters; I doubt they're in Japanese anymore. I have a feeling that the hard work I've put in in English classes isn't going to be of any help in this situation either.

The train carriage rocks softly and speeds up. I sink into the chair, tracing my fingers on the fabric, trying to soothe my nerves. It's hard to not be nervous, especially when I have next to no idea what I'm going to be facing next. So far, this place is nothing like Ikoma-san's mind. Ikoma-san did say that everyone's inner demons looked different, but still I didn't expect it to be that different.

And so far, I have seen nothing demonic about this world. Katsuki told me to think, to try to understand what Shun's inner demons could've been like. But how would I know? I try to remember everything I've known about Shun, which is kind of a lot of things since I'm a certified stalker, but still come up with a blank. Ikoma-san said something about the darkness feeding on negative things, negative emotions—but Shun never exhibited many negative emotions. He had always been a very sun-shiney kind of guy and rarely had I ever seen him not smiling or looking for something fun to do.

It makes me feel terrible almost. All this time I've had a crush on him, yet it is exactly just that—a pointless, stupid crush. Did I ever make an effort to understand what he's really thinking? No. Did I ever try to be a friend and do friend things like listen to whatever unhappy things are going on in his life? No. I did nothing for him in my entire life and yet I claim to "like" him. That's not what "liking" someone is supposed to be about, is it?

Well, at least now I know what kind of negative emotions I have—I've got a lot of self-loathing for being an absolutely shallow person. But that doesn't bring me any closer to guessing what negative feelings Shun might have had.

I can't help thinking it might have something to do with his memory of the day I played the elega in front of the class. I mean, it's not really that significant of an event, and it was so long ago. Yet he remembered every detail.

But nothing happened that day, did it? I don't have the details down as clearly as Shun does but I still have a somewhat fuzzy idea. After talking to sweet Mr. Eto, I went back to class, had a nice uneventful afternoon and then I went to meet Mr. Eto at the swimming pool to get my elega back. I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking and fell into the pool—that I remember—but Mr. Eto saved me. I was perfectly fine afterwards and went home quite happily with my elega.

Perhaps Shun had seen me drowning that day and it scared him? Well, it's true that he can't swim, but I don't think that's it. I mean, lots of people have near-drowning experiences. And if I weren't traumatized, why would he be when he wasn't even the one drowning? It wasn't even that terrible of a drowning experience; I think it lasted like three seconds. Mr. Eto was fast.

That can't be it. What else happened? Something else must have happened, and I can't for the life of me remember what...

"Tsugi wa Imada. The next stop is Imada."

The metallic female voice pierces through the sullen rhythm of the carriage and startles me from my reverie. I tighten my grip around the bar I happen to be clutching at. There's no station on this line named Imada. I would definitely have remembered if there were; it's Jin's last name.

The train abruptly draws up by the platform and the doors open with a swoosh. I peer outside, not sure if it's my cue to step out from the safety of the carriage yet.

I mean, this subway train is all wrong and wonky but at least it's relatively better than what's outside, which looks like an abandoned hospital room with blood spattered over the walls.

Do I want to step out into that creepy place? Of course I don't. Who knows when the next train will come to pick me up? Will it even come?

Therefore I stay in the carriage, praying with every fiber of me that the doors will just close already, kind of like the feeling you get when you're being pursued by zombies in a business building and leap into an elevator and start hammering on the "close" button. Not that I've ever had that kind of experience before but hey that's a scenario anyone dreams about at least once. Or is it just me?

Hopefully it isn't just me—

My train of thought is interrupted by a scream, my own scream. From the doorway leaps in a figure, clad from head to toe in plastic-bag black. You know, the kind of plastic bag you use to hide body parts. Not that I've ever hidden body parts before but I digress again—

I scream again and dodge, as the figure is holding a knife and is aiming for me. I turn around and bound down the empty corridor, straight into the next carriage, and the next. Behind me the figure follows, I can hear its every step, so inhumanly heavy, almost as heavy as the thudding of my own heart.

But what can I do? Running will get me nowhere. Unless if I jump off the train into that weird hospital—except I can't anymore, the doors have closed and the carriage is on its way again.

I'll have to evade this thing till the next stop, where I can make my escape. But can I? What if the next stop is two hours away? What if there isn't even a next stop and this train will just go on and on into oblivion?

I scream once more as the figure slashes at me, and close my eyes. It's the end, isn't it? Of course, how fitting an end for me—Watanabe Tomomi, useless to the end.

But someone has taken the blow for me, I realize, as I slowly reopen my eyes to a softly rumbling carriage and a dying Jin in my lap. The dark figure is no longer there.

"It can't be. You're dead..." I whisper. It's probably impolite to tell a dead person that they're dead but I figure this isn't the real Jin anyway. Just a projection in Shun's mind.

He sure feels real though; the weight of him in my lap is almost crushing, and the blood, the sticky, warm blood—that feels real too. So real, I think, as I watch it trickle down my fingers.

Jin seems to be struggling to say something. His deep, anguished eyes meet mine and even though they aren't real they still convey a thousand words.

"I m-missed you," I find myself blabbing through hiccupping sobs. "C-come b-back to me..."

A sad smile teases at the corner of his lips and he raises one hand to wipe away my tears. His fingertips touch my cheek and then—

"Tsugi wa Endo. The next stop is Endo."

The metallic voice speaks, and Jin vanishes into thin air.

I begin to bawl, not caring if anyone is watching. Probably no one's watching. Who even is there to watch this happen? Mr. Yamada is dead. His whole crew is dead. My Jin is dead and I'm here all alone on a rumbling subway carriage trying to do something I have no idea how to do.

Wait. Endo... that's Hiroki's last name, isn't it?

My mind flashes to when I last saw the puppy-eyed boy. He was losing blood, unable to fight, lying on a mattress all helpless. Katsuki did promise to protect him, but what if, just what if—

"Don't you dare tell me you've taken him too!" I yell into the skies (or, more accurately, the boring ceiling), even though I have no idea who "you" is supposed to be.

My voice echoes down the corridors and the carriage rocks to a stop again. I peer out of the closest window, wondering why it is so dark (subway stations are supposed to be, you know, bright), and is greeted by a sudden smatter of green slime on the window pane.

"Er... ew?" I say to no one in particular, and then the pair of doors next to me open and in slithers a snake of an ungodly size.

In its clutches—if I could even say "clutches" since it has no hands—is Hiroki.

The scene seems awfully familiar. I've come across the same thing in Hiroki's mind, as had Shun. Actually I've watched Jin die too, as had Shun.

I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

Each of these stations seems to bring back a memory that I don't want, that Shun doesn't want. It's like a trip on memory lane, except the worst kind.

I don't think I want to be on this train anymore.

Ignoring the pitiful cries of Hiroki (whom I have to keep telling myself "isn't real, come on don't be stupid Hiroki's fine that one isn't real"), I jump out of the doorway and everything goes quiet.

I'm in a subway station again, except I don't recognize this one. It's similar to the one I came from though, sunset, broken clock, empty—

And then I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Of course, being jumpy and uncool, I shriek. I whip my head backwards to find the absolutely cutest little one standing there. He can't be much taller than where my chest is; probably had to stretch to touch my shoulder.

I know who he is, naturally. The unbecoming eggplant-colored uniform just about gives it away. I've forgotten how cute a little boy he used to be, though.

"Hi, Tomomi," says third-grader Shun.