The world crashed and crumbled around her, though she could never remember the cause of it, or even the reason why it bothered her so much. The world left her behind, throwing her into darkness filled with the nightmares she wished she'd never had.

She never truly dreamed of anything - If ever there were dreams inside her head, they were reflections of the world she longed to forget, of ties and circumstances that she failed to free herself from.

Her fingers traced the lines in the back of her mind - the tears that were sewn with times silver thread. Her words traced the border between truth and fiction, sewing the two together in a myriad of whirling emotions.

Mother sank into torment of water, losing her mind and her grasp on the world.

Nobody remembered her before long - They had a new toy.

They had a new source of interest to replace her with.

She had no grasp of time inside her mind - based on a calendar, she would never be able to tell anyone when she'd been put in that darkened hell, and she'd never be able to recount exactly when she'd re-emerged in the end.

However she'd counted days, patterns, nightmares in extension.

Twenty six times she had woken up in a featureless room with no windows nor furniture, save for every wall being made of a perfect reflection and the plain, coverless gurney with wheels set right in the middle of the room. Twenty six times she woke up in a room that always had its lights on, burning the room in a curtain of hot white light.

Twenty two times she spent a whole, tiring day just staring up at the ceiling above her head within the tiny little room, neither seeing a soul, nor hearing them, though she knew there were many just on the other side of the reflective glass whenever she would wake up.

She knew they could all see her, while she could not return their gazes.

Four times a beautiful, mournful woman had left the door in the mirror unlocked while nobody was around to see it, allowing her to venture outside her little air-room without being noticed, where she would take to hiding beneath a flight of stairs just outside the basement door until it was safe to re-emerge.

When she wouldn't be spotted and dragged back into that tiny white room.

But each of those twenty six times, she'd always wake up within what felt like mere seconds to find herself back in that little tank of nightmares, spending days upon days in the metallic oceans confined in a tiny little cage made of bullet-proof glass.

She'd learned in the beginning that there was a set regiment to her life since her mother had died - That her mother had followed the exact same life, except Yukariko was let outside the tiny little room on her one day of breathing air.

There was a pattern to the days in both rooms, one that made sense to her after her seventh time in the little white room.

With every repetition of the cycle, her exposure to the water grew by one day, more and more, as if she was gradually being adapted, and in realization of that, her emotional state crumbled a little more each time until she locked herself away with silver keys in the form of silence.

Her first time was one whole day in the metallic oceans, then it was two days.

Three days next, and then it was four.

All the way up until she was spending close to a whole month imprisoned in that tank without break, all but forgetting what it was like to breathe air.

She lost so many things in that water, while the room of mirrors threw what was left in disarray.

She lost so many parts of herself, her dreams and aspirations.

She'd lost them, but she never truly wanted to get them back.

She'd never wander back into that nightmare willingly - Nothing could possibly be important enough to send her into that nightmare out of her own volition.

No matter how much she may be pushed around by those who wandered freely in the sunlight, she would never face the metallic oceans again. And yet she found herself returning to it in some shape or form, whenever she slept light enough for dreams to take hold of her.

She never dreamed of anything else - it was as if her subconscious wouldn't let her go.

It was as if the girl on the other side of the glass refused to her her forget her.

Her eyes opened to the burning, hot light of the little box she was kept inside, the bright box she was quarantined within when she was not in the water.

Lifelessly, she stared up at the mirror that formed the ceiling of the room, reflecting the surface of the floor - a high-shine, reflective white.

The girl in the glass stared right back at her, lying in just the same way as if the ceiling was her own world.

Empty eyes a murky shade resembling amber stared back at her, her white hair and ghostly complexion blending quite well with the sanitary white and chrome features of the room. The single white gown she wore while she was in this room was thin, scarcely covering her delicate form.

Her body felt cold, as it always did.

Her body also felt horribly heavy, uncomfortable to move, and yet it was just as uncomfortable to lay still, as well.

The girl in the mirror above looked greatly like a ghost, and if that were the case, then she herself was just the same.

The one true reflection in the room was that of the ceiling - The walls warped everything beyond rational, throwing many different reflections fragmenting for an eternity.

It threw her grasp of time and reality off completely, though it did not frighten her.

Almost instantly, though her grasp of time was greatly warped, the sounds of a door unlocking met her ears, however she did not pull her gaze from the girl in the ceiling.

The door in the mirror at the foot of her gurney opened revealing an inky blackness beyond as a tall form stepped into the room of mirrors, and shut the door.

In the ceilings reflection, she could identify who the visitor was - In fact, she didn't even need to see to know who it was.

Nobody else ever walked into this room while she was conscious.

She wasn't ever allowed to see another soul unless he allowed it, after all.

'Good morning, Specimen Ten.' Spoke the man who'd entered the room, his deep-toned voice echoing with booming volume against her aching ears. 'I trust it must feel uncomfortable to be out of your confinement tank these days - Don't worry, you'll be back there before you even know it.'

She remained unresponsive on the gurney, staring up at the reflections in the ceiling.

The man was not the least bit bothered about her lack of response, and instead he approached the right side of the gurney to lift her arm from the bed an check her pulse.

He was a tall man with a rather stocky build and a tanned complexion. With dark amber eyes and black hair hanging down to his jaw in a rather untidy mess, the man wore a rather laid-back expression as he continued with what he was doing. The white lab-coat he wore was a testament to what his profession was.

'Are you going to spend all day lying there? Or are you going to respond when spoken to?' The man questioned her, though there wasn't any true emphasis in his words as he merely dropped her arm back to the gurney at her side.

He never spoke to her - It was always at her, words spoken on routine rather than intention.

His words were always as empty as the look in her eyes.

'Very well, moving on.' The man spoke, stepping around the gurney to the other side, where he grabbed her by the chin and forced her head to turn away.

He inspected the base of her neck for a few seconds, before he released her and stepped away with a momentary nod, before he sat himself down on the edge of the bed.

He opened the inside of his lab-coat, pulling out a bundle of papers, and a single ink pen.

'Clearing Day of Cycle Twenty Six, the Specimen still shows no sign of movement by her own volition - Likely a case of catatonia, well within the expected perimeters.' The man spoke, more to himself and the others that were on the other side of the glass, instead of her. 'Aerotherapy appears to have no effect after prolonged exposure to the compounds infused with the isolation tank. No issues otherwise.'

He nodded to himself as he flicked through the pages, almost as if he was alone in the room.

'Good news, Specimen Ten.' The man remarked in a loud voice, though he didn't look at her from his papers. 'This is the last time you will wake up in this room - In fact, you won't be visiting this room ever again.'

Good news?

Where was she going to go, then?

'I must admit, for such a useless, disobedient child, you are a promising Specimen indeed.' He spoke, writing away at his papers as the sickening grin spread across his face. 'Far more promising than the last failure - You've progressed in many leaps and bounds in far shorter time in comparison to the last.'

Failure?

Who was the last failure...?

She couldn't remember - Her head always felt so foggy.

When was the last time she ever felt alive?

'With the disappearance of Specimens Eleven and Twelve just last month, I had been concerned.' The man continued, lifting himself from the edge of the gurney as he pocketed his wad of papers once again. 'I prefer to have backups in case my current decides to deteriorate on me, but it looks like I won't be needing them after all, even if the current Specimen ends up expiring just like the last one.'

Eleven and Twelve ... they disappeared?

Why couldn't she seem to recall who they were?

He spoke of them like she should know them, and it felt like she really, honestly should.

Why ... couldn't she remember?

All of a sudden, the door that the man had entered through opened, drawing his attention from whatever it was he was doing.

'E-excuse me, Katsuragi-sensei...' A soft, melodic voice belonging to a female echoed from the darkness beyond the door, a mournful tone against an atmosphere so stagnant. 'I'm very sorry to interrupt but ... Haruto-san has sent word that Serio-dono has arrived at the Resort. She'd like to see you.'

'Serio-dono?' He responded, his tone blunt with a lack of understanding.

'Your umm ... Fiancée.' The voice on the other side spoke in answer. 'Katsuragi-sensei, you got engaged to her last week...'

'Oh! The first for the Fire Project! Excellent!' Katsuragi Toji responded, enthusiasm echoing in his voice as he made his quick approach to the door. 'Then I shouldn't keep her waiting.'

'Y-yes...'

'Handle the rest, for me.' He instructed, motioning over his shoulder rather dismissively as he disappeared beyond the dark of the door. 'Prep the Specimen for permanent residence while I'm gone, with the new equipment set up in the isolation tank. Don't forget to circulate the oxygenated solution as well.'

'Of course...' The voice spoke in response.

'Good. Don't disappoint me.' Toji responded, his tone rather cold as he began to walk away - Dispersing footsteps echoed for several long seconds, before all was silent once again.

A door in the distance slammed shut, steel reinforced, and electronic deadbolts locked into place.

'Such a disgusting man ...' The feminine voice spoke after a few seconds, and light footsteps began to sound in approach.

Through the reflection in the ceiling, a much smaller form stepped into the room of mirrors, a form equally as familiar to her as that of Katsuragi Toji.

Soft, ginger hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, green eyes adorning a freckled, pale face, the woman cast her a sympathetic look as she let the door close to just ajar.

'Hello, Amaya-chan.' The soft-spoken woman greeted her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to gently shift her limp hair out of her face. 'My name is Genivierre. Do you remember who I am?'

Of course Amaya did, though she did not respond to show it.

Genevierre Bosconavic - her step-mother, even if it wasn't official.

The only person in this hellish place that even gave a damn about what was going on in the basements of the Resort.

At the lacking response to her words, Genivierre straightened up with a rather haggard, wavering smile.

'I guess I couldn't blame you if you didn't.' She whispered, turning her head to glance back at the door.

The room returned to silence for several long seconds, all the while Amaya gazed up at the ceiling.

At least until Genivierre chose to break it one again.

'I know my words wont mean anything to you right now, Amaya-chan. Our hands are tied, but we're doing our best to help you - To save you before you end up like Yukariko.' Genivierre began, her gaze still upon the door. 'Both your uncles are working so hard to save you - They're both trying so hard, in their own different ways, but theres only so much they can do without that disgusting man noticing anything just yet.'

Her hands gripping the front of her white laboratory coat clenched tightly, and began to tremble.

'Both Haruto-san and myself ... we're so tired of watching people slowly die inside, but we can't back down ... we can't escape - Our hands are tied.'

A soft, trembling breath escaped Genivierre for a second.

'I ... I can't even imagine how hard it must have been for him to watch his sister fade away like that... and not be able to help her at all... To have to stand there submissively and watch, without showing any sign of what he was feeling ...'

A far off clunk of metal deadbolts shifting in the distance echoed, causing a flinch to shoot through Genivierre's form.

Her expression sharpened slightly, and she shook her head for just a second before she looked back at Amaya's lifeless form.

'I don't have much time, so if you can hear me, you must remember what I am about to tell you.' Genivierre spoke, a sense of urgency in her hushed words as she gently ran her hand over Amaya's forehead.

She seemed to take a deep breath before she spoke again.

'Sleep for as much as you can, don't lie awake staring out in the room, because it'll get worse.' She spoke, hurried, stressed.

The sounds in the distance grew louder, more frequent with every passing second.

'If you meet a scary red-eyed man in a black suit in that room, you must do everything that he says without question, right away - you have to listen to him, otherwise we ... we can't save you...'

'Genivierre-san?' A voice spoke out through the darkness of the ajar door, causing the woman to flinch, just before she moved to quickly get to her feet. 'What are you doing in there? And where is Katsuragi-sensei?'

'He's left to spend time with his fiancée, therefore I'm here to replace him until his return.' Genivierre addressed the person that had just entered the room, an emotionless front quickly brought up as the door opened slightly. 'Is there anything I can help you with, in the meantime?'

'N-not at all.' Was spoken in turn, a momentary waver mid-response. 'Shall we begin the relocation procedures, then? Everyone else has arrived.'

'Yes, I believe that's a fine idea.' She spoke in response, casting a glance back at Amayas motionless form. 'Please begin by cycling the isolation tank.'

'Right away.'

Genivierre cast her a long glance as dispersing footsteps echoed throughout the tiny room of mirrors, an apologetic edge touching her mournful eyes as she turned and began to leave the room, closing the door behind her.

Within seconds, the deadbolt in the door clicked into place, and a faint, mechanical hissing began to echo overhead.

Ever so slowly, a faint white mist began to drift down from the mirrored ceiling.

It smelled thickly of a familiar sedative, one she knew very well.

As her eyes began to slowly droop shut on her, her breathing shallowed, almost completely.

Her whole body became deathly cold, and in her unresponsive state, it still terrified her to feel her body begin to practically shut down at the merest push of a button outside of her little box.

If she could, she would have broken down to a screaming fit.

Only her body refused to work properly for her, the many, many weeks of a motionless state rendering her body limp despite how desperately she always wanted to scream and cry.

The nightmare slowly faded away to black, and as she struggled desperately to open her eyes, a vicious jolt of pain shot through her chest.

And then much like she'd suddenly regained control of her body, her eyes snapped open like she'd just been startled awake.

Heart racing, pulse thudding away in her ears, Amaya found herself staring up at the ceiling of a familiar room, dimly lit by the city lights that shone through the window. She didn't understand exactly where she was with her brain still hung on that dream she'd just woken up from.

She couldn't recognize anything right now, no matter how hard she tried.

Frantically, still caught up in a pocket of terror, she scrambled backwards as she tried to figure out what was going on.

She couldn't seem to understand why she wasn't in a tank full of metallic water, like she always was after falling asleep back in that little room of mirrors.

But then something came to her notice, drawing lucid recollection and understanding upon her as she managed to calm down just enough to take note of it.

There was a faint, electronic beeping in the room, the distinct sounds of music from a video game, and a presence that she recognized in an instance.

She was in her room half-tangled in the sheets of her bed from her frantic scrambling, and her favorite redhead was sitting in the room with her, his back against the side of her bed as he played the hand-held game he held in his hands - Coincidentally the one he'd been playing when Maehara had let her into the little shed at the baseball field.

He hadn't noticed that she was awake - It was immediately obvious from his posture and the frantic clicking of buttons that he was focused entirely on the game.

Amaya stared at him soundlessly, the tension in her body and the overstrung emotions left over from that dream beginning to cause tremors to overcome her.

She didn't recall how she could have gotten here, nor the reason for the evil-humored boy to be here in the room with her, but it honestly didn't matter to her right now - In reality, she couldn't care less.

Tears began to spill down the sides of her face as her trembling grew a little worse, and before she even knew what she was doing, she'd thrown herself towards the unaware redhead just a few feet away from her.

A startled gasp escaped Karma as Amayas form crashed into his own, his hand-held console almost flying out of his grip as her arms latched around his shoulders.

'A-Amay?!' He managed to gasp out as he stopped himself from crashing forward into the floor. 'What the hell are you-'

He cut himself off as he seemed to notice that she was trembling, turning his head to try and look at her from over his left shoulder.

A sigh eventually escaped him as he discarded his game.

'You had one of those dreams, again.' He eventually spoke, his tone more subdued than she was used to hearing. 'The ones you refuse to tell me anything about, right?'

Unintentionally, a small flinch escaped her at those words, though she didn't answer him.

She was trying her best not to crumble into a nervous wreck.

He didn't say anything, though another sigh escaped him as he straightened up against her weight.

'Amay, let go.' He commanded her, his tone of voice still rather subdued.

She bit her lip, her eyes screwed shut in a vain attempt at stopping the tears from leaking any more.

If she spoke, she really would burst into a nervous, sobbing wreck.

'Why do you always have to be so difficult?' He questioned her, an edge of exasperation creeping into his tone of voice. 'Fine, we'll just do this your way, then.'

And then all of a sudden he'd slumped over to stretch out on the floor, dragging Amaya straight off the bed with the motion alone.

Her arms loosened as she crashed to the floor inelegantly, her breath hitching painfully as she went to try and scramble back, however she was stopped before she'd even managed to get half way.

An arm had wrapped firmly around her shoulders, keeping her stuck on the floor with him as he rest his other hand against the back of her head.

At first she remained motionless, frozen out of a mix of fear and shock, however before long, she couldn't stop herself from sinking into the embrace. The marginal hold she had left of her composure broke away from her grip, the tears flowing freely as she buried her face into his shoulder.

'Honestly, what am I going to do with you?' She heard him question of her, his tone rather soft despite the particular string of words he usually used to taunt her with. 'I can't leave you alone for very long, because you're liable to end up killing yourself entirely by accident.'

She refrained from flinching at those words, though they stung never the less.

She thought the remark was rather uncalled for, however inwardly she guessed he was probably right.

She did have an unfortunate habit of self-destructing if left to her inner thoughts for too long.

As if he had heard her very thoughts, he let out a breath, the arm around her shoulders tightened, and she felt him shift slightly.

'You can rely on me, Amay. I'm not going to suddenly disappear on you or anything.' He told her, his words soft against her ear. 'You know, that right?'

Her breath hitched at those words, her hands tightening around the handfuls of his shirt she'd managed to grab ahold of when he'd dragged her off the bed.

How did he always seem to know what to say to her, just like he just knew what she needed?

'I-I'm sorry ...' She managed to speak, her voice trembling with the tears that refused to let up.

Contrary to what she'd expected in her over-strung state, he didn't say anything at first, his hand to the back of her head shifting gently.

'If you're sorry, then you can quit all this self-torture of yours.' He eventually spoke, a sigh in his tone of voice as he kept his firm hold of her trembling form. 'Even if its just a little, you can learn to let yourself depend on me, can't you?'

She didn't answer him, but it didn't appear like he'd expected to even receive an answer.

'I don't like seeing you like this, Amaya ... and I can't help you if you won't let me.'

---=[Authors Notes]=---

Chapter 59 of Marionette, as promised. Haha, and thank you to everyone who's submitted questions for the Q&A. It looks like nearly everyone has asked questions only of Karma, with a couple for Amaya. Ohooo, Karma is just oh so popular, isn't he? Well, you've got a further two days to submit any that have been dancing in your pretty little heads, but maybe try and show the rest of the Ansatsu team a bit of love? :3 I dunno, I'm babbling, haha.

Anyways, translation notes for Chapter 59:

Kagami no heya - Translates roughly as Room of Mirrors, written as 鏡の部屋 in Japanese. Kagami (鏡) being Mirror while Heya (部屋) being Room.