To - to be completely honest, I already had a Death Note/Silent Hill snippet in my 'abandoned fanfiction' folder, set during the part of canon where Light's lost his memories.


Could Kira really be in this town? It’s the perfect place to hide; there’s nobody here, after all. But if he thinks about it more deeply...

“It’s a strange place to hide,” Light says aloud. “Nobody knows who Kira is, so why would he need to stay away from society? Living in a place like this would just look suspicious if anyone noticed.”

Ryuzaki doesn’t respond.

Perhaps Kira has a killing method that’s difficult to hide? Perhaps whatever technology allows him to kill from a distance takes up a lot of space?

“You thought he might be a high-school student,” Light says. “If Kira is a teenager, he probably doesn’t live alone. He may use this place for activities he can’t risk his family discovering.”

“It’s a long way to come,” Ryuzaki says. “Kira could probably use his abilities to make money. Perhaps he could rent a place to use as a base of operations.”

Light shakes his head, firmly. “That’s not something Kira would do.”

Ryuzaki looks at him. “No?”

He hates these moments. He deliberately holds Ryuzaki’s gaze, because he feels sure that Ryuzaki is waiting for him to look away. “I’m not trying to defend him, but he’s not—” He catches himself before saying ‘he’s not a criminal’. Of course Kira is a criminal; he’s the greatest mass-murderer of their generation. “He doesn’t think of himself as a criminal. He’s an idealist. He wouldn’t stoop to theft.”

Ryuzaki doesn’t respond. Light hates these careful silences just as much as the careful questions. It always feels like Ryuzaki is analysing him, judging him, thinking of him as Kira.

“You’re right, though,” Light says. “It’s a long way to come.” He looks around, at the abandoned street surrounding them. “And he obviously has access to the news when he’s at work.” Something in him prefers not to call it killing. “Criminals have died minutes after their details were released to the public. It would be difficult to manage that from a place like this.”

“You think he’s not here, then?” Ryuzaki asks. It feels like a test, just like everything else Ryuzaki says.

Light frowns. “Maybe we should look.”

In the immediate aftermath of the crash, Jack’s running around, checking on injuries, trying to save everyone. If he can keep doing that, maybe he can put off actually having to think about their situation.

The teenager in the pink jacket regains consciousness while he’s checking on her. She opens her eyes. It seems to take her a moment to actually focus on him. Concussion?

“Don’t try to sit up yet,” Jack says. “How are you feeling?”

She ignores him, sits up. She holds a hand up in front of her face, frowns, touches it with her other hand. Looks around at the beach, the ocean, the mountains.

“Are you serious?” she asks. “I’m back here?”

What? She could just be dazed. “Do you know where we are?”

She raises her voice. “Did you think I would just not notice that I’m able to see?”

Jack looks around. He has no idea who she’s talking to. But the older bald guy is nearby, and it looks like she’s caught his attention.

“You couldn’t see before?” the bald guy asks.

“I can’t see now,” the girl says. “We’re in a simulation.” She calls out again. “Whatever your experiment is, there’s no point. We already know, and we’ll be too busy coughing up blood to tell you anything useful.”

“It’s not a simulation,” the bald guy says. “It’s this place. I—” He hesitates, grimaces. “I was in a wheelchair before the crash.”

The girl raises her eyebrows. “Is that supposed to convince me I’m not in a simulation?”

Denial probably isn’t surprising, as a reaction to this situation. But this particular brand of denial is a little more than Jack knows how to deal with.

This... isn't technically what you requested, but I associate you so strongly with Final Fantasy X that I couldn't think of anything else.


Gladio’s dragged a complaining Noct into morning exercises, which leaves Prompto to help Ignis pack up the tent. It feels like a good opportunity to speak to Ignis alone.

“Hey,” Prompto says, as casual as he can manage it, “I know the plan was the temple today, but can we maybe go to the Moonflow first? I really want some shots of it.”

Ignis raises his eyebrows. “We’ll be crossing the Moonflow once we have Ixion. There will be plenty of time for photography while we’re waiting for the shoopuf.”

“I mean, yeah,” Prompto says, “but the light’s really great today. We don’t know what it’ll be like tomorrow.”

Ignis rolls up the last of the sleeping bags, packs it into its carrier. “If we take Noct to the Moonflow, you know very well that he’ll insist on fishing there. We won’t get away before nightfall.”

Prompto shrugs. “I’d be fine with that. Maybe I could get some night shots. It’s not like Ixion’s going anywhere, right?”

Ignis looks at Prompto for several agonising seconds of silence.

“I understand what you’re trying to do, and I empathise,” he says, softly, “but we can’t keep delaying the pilgrimage.”

“Why not?” Prompto asks. His voice kind of cracks halfway through, and he winces, embarrassed. “Like... maybe another summoner will get there first, right?”

Ignis closes his eyes for a moment. Opens them again. “Our task is to guard and support Noct to the best of our ability. We can’t sabotage him. That’s not our decision to make.”

Prompto feels hot and humiliated and more sick in his gut with every step they take towards Zanarkand. He has to look away.

“That said,” Ignis says, after a long pause, “the light today is excellent for photography.”

Rabbit Hole: The target of this item will regain their lost memories. The user may target themselves.

She hadn’t really expected anything. She’d just been curious.

Memories are flooding into her head, too many to make sense. Trying to make it through the race – trying to survive – being killed by Bunny, by Horse, by Sheep of all people—

Mouse presses herself into the corner of the room, breathing hard. Clutching the knife she found in a safe.

She can't trust any of them. She can't trust any of them.

Thank you for your kind words! ♥


“We have a really big problem,” Chris says. “Josh has a Palace.”

“Josh what?” Sam asks.

“He hasn’t really seemed right lately,” Chris says. “I mean, you wouldn’t be, after...” He glances at Mike; Mike looks away. “Anyway, I tried out the Metaverse app, and it’s definitely responding to the lodge. We’ve just been trying to figure out the keyword.”

“The keyword is whatever he thinks of the lodge as, right?” Sam asks. Josh has a Palace? She hasn’t seen much of him lately; she should have been keeping a better eye on him. “Uh, maybe...” She doesn’t really want to say any of the possibilities occurring to her. “Maybe a morgue? A cemetery?”

“A courtroom,” Mike says, quietly. “A prison.”

“Nothing,” Chris says. “What the hell is it?”

“Beginning navigation,” Chris’s phone says.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Wait, what was that responding to?”

“Uh,” Mike says. “Maybe hell?”

Shit. That really doesn’t sound good.

But it’s too late to back out; the snowy grounds of the lodge are already dissolving around them.

It's so hard to shake the double standard! I'm glad I posted this entry, though; I'm having a lot of fun just writing in response to people's requests, without worrying too much about whether what I'm writing has a direction or a point.