Disclaimer: I do not own the knb characters in this story.

Warnings: This story is heavily focused on Multiple Personality Disorder, and may contain rape in later chapters.

Another disclaimer: I do not approve of the demonization of mental illness, but Seijurou's alter is manipulative and terrible in canon so he will be written that way here as well, though with explained motives and justification at the end.

Prologue: I Come Alive

What has he done? Nothing, not that he can remember, anyway. Yet the evidence is on his hands. The blood. So much blood, on his hands and on the soft, green grass under his feet. He glances toward the source of the liquid. His dog. His stomach is torn open, guts leaking out, staining the grass red. And the blood. So much blood. How does so much blood come from such a little dog?

Jun. He's such a good little dog. So cute and cuddly. He sleeps in Seijurou's room every night. To protect him, his mother said once. Or he used to. He can't anymore. Seijurou feels a lump grow in his throat at that thought. The thought that Jun will never play with him, or protect him, or eat, or even sleep again. It's saddening.

Then why did he do it?

"Sei-chan, darling, come inside." A female voice that he recognizes as his mother's comes from the sliding door that separates the porch from the lawn. Seijurou's eyes widen. He can't let her see what's happened, not until he gets the crimson liquid off his hands and clothing. He doesn't want her to blame him. "Come in for a snack," she says, sliding the door open a bit. She spots him, smiling, and comes towards him-and stops when she sees the blood on his hands. All the blood. Her smile falters.

"Why do you have blood on you?" She asks, worry etched into the soft lines of her face. "Are you hurt? What happened?" She quickly opens the door the rest of the way and hurries over to the blood-covered boy. She doesn't see the dead dog until she almost trips over him. She screams.

The next thing he knows, he's being gathered into his mother's arms. She lifts him off the blood-soaked ground and holds him tightly to her chest. Normally he would refuse such treatment, (He is five years old, thank you very much. That's an entire hand.) But he's scared. Who killed Jun? Are they going to come after him next? Is that why his mother is reacting this way? But what he really wants to know is how did the blood get on his hands? Frighted, he closes his eyes and buries his face into her white blouse. What if the perpetrator is still in the yard? What if he's waiting for the right moment to strike them down and split them open, like what he did to Jun?

"I want to go inside," Seijurou whispers.

"Alright, love," she whispers back. He feels her turn and start to walk back to the house. He wants to hold onto her, but he doesn't want to stain her shirt with his dirty hands. As soon as they get indoors, away from the horrible sight in the back yard, he gathers up the courage to open his eyes and looks up. He immediately regrets it. His mother is crying. Why, though? Seijurou never thought she was all that fond of Jun.

His mother carries him into the closest bathroom, and sets him on the edge of the sink counter. She's shaken, he can tell. "What exactly happened?" she asks, wetting a washcloth to clean the blood off his skin.

"I don't know," he admits quietly. To him the washcloth seems ineffective.

"Think." she demands him. Her tears are dry. Seijurou is slightly intimidated; it isn't often she uses that tone, only when he's done something very bad. But this isn't his fault! He would definitely remember killing his own beloved dog.

He throws a bright green ball across the yard, laughing as Jun stumbles over himself trying to catch it. When he brings it back, it's covered in slobber. Jun wags his tail and waits-

Seijurou's hands are red and wet from a warm substance that is certainly not dog spit, and Jun is lying in a mutilated mess on the ground.

Why is that space blank? How could he possibly not remember? And how is he supposed to convince his mother of his innocence when he doesn't have any evidence against the real killer? It is extremely frustrating for the young boy, and he feels himself started to get worked up.

"I-I think someone must have snuck into the yard while I wasn't looking," he tries, tears forcing their way into his eyes.

His mother stays silent for a few minutes as she removes his dirty shirt and finishes cleaning him up. Then she softly says, "I was so afraid of something like this happening."

Seijurou doesn't exactly understand what she's talking about, but he does know this: she's blaming him. "But I didn't do anything, Mother!" he cries. "We were just playing and then h-he...the blood..." He finally gives into the horrible feeling in his chest and starts to sob loudly, like any child would.

His mother once again wraps her arms around him and holds him close. "Shh, it's okay," she tries to calm him, petting his hair softly. But the dam has already been broken, so her actions have little effect. "You didn't do anything. Just forget about it. I'll clean up the yard. We don't have to tell your father."

"B-but Jun..."

"He ran away."

Later that day, when Seijurou is in bed and supposed to be sleeping, he finally gets an answer.

"I'm the one who killed that dog." The voice is soft and light; a child's, maybe around Seijurou's own age.

Seijurou bolts up, eyes wide in search for the source of the voice. It's dark, but he is afraid to uncover himself to turn on the light. It's a childish thought, but he feels safe under his blanket. He shouldn't be afraid of a kid, but this is a kid who kills dogs. That left Seijurou wondering why on earth the kid did it, though.

"I had to. That thing could have been dangerous when it was full-grown. It could have hurt Mother." It's the answer to his unasked question, and Seijuro briefly thinks that maybe the kid can read minds. Very strange indeed.

"Who are you?" Seijurou demands, speaking out loud, just in case.

"You can call me Emperor." That sentence marks the end of the first conversation between Seijurou and the person who will torment him for the rest of his life.