Archive of Our Own

He has always held some sort of affection for her. She arrives quietly like a breeze on a warm day. Bringing with her something needed but not yet acknowledged or even known. Her appearance at the dorm isn’t fireworks or thunder or anything flashy. It’s soft, gentle, almost unnoticeable. And it starts with this sort of quiet that makes him wonder about her.

Her first summoning is anything but subtle. She takes the Evoker in hand, says the word she doesn’t yet know.

“Per—” A beat. “So—” Another beat. “Na.” The last beat before she pulls the trigger and summons a Persona. A monster personified. Is that Persona really her? A reflection of her other self? Or is it simply there as a manifestation of the desperation that hangs so thickly in the air around her. He doesn’t think any more of this as she collapses. All he can think of is getting to her and keeping her safe.

It’s normal to think that, he tries to rationalize. She’s just a girl who summoned her Persona for the first time and managed to defeat an usually powerful and large Shadow. That’s all there is to it. 

She’s out for a few days before coming to school. A transfer student. Her arrival at school, unlike  the one at the dorm, is a whirlwind. She’s a whirlwind. Rumors already spreading. He sees her in the hallways sometimes, chatting someone up or going to some club. She’s always moving, as if her life has a deadline on it and if she doesn’t act soon it’ll all go to waste.

He shakes his head because they all have deadlines on their lives. So why is she any different?

In the evenings he sees her going out for who knows what. Sometimes he opens his mouth to ask where she’s going but quickly decides against it. He has no right. They’re acquaintances but less than friends. What right does he have? 

Sometimes it slips out. “Where have you been?” It sounds accusatory. She just smiles. Whether brushing off the tone of his question or not being able to tell. Neither matters because she’s smiling at him and he feels like he’s drowning. It gets a little harder to breathe. This must be what dying feels like, he thinks. Then he rubs his temples and scoffs at himself because that’s ridiculous. He knows what dying feels like. Dying feels like losing Miki. Dying feels like being helpless. Dying feels like pain, like grief, like guilt. This can’t be dying, this feeling.

On Sundays, he wakes up earlier than usually to go running. There’s no school so he feels freer than he does any other day of the week. He wakes up one Sunday and heads to the laundry room for leftover laundry he might have forgotten the day before. Mitsuru has given him hell for leaving his boxers in the dryer; he doesn’t feel like going through that again.

It’s here he spots her. The only sounds that can be heard are the washing machines rumbling on low and the turning pages of a book she’s reading. The sight before him brings a sense of calm he hasn’t felt in a long time. The way she turns the page, the way her brows furrow while reading a passage, the way she bites her lips that looks like she’s trying to draw blood yet done so gently, so softly, he can’t put it into words, but he’s never been good with words anyway. 

She senses him and closes her book and turns to face him. She smiles and he’s drowning again.

“Hey, Senpai. You here to wash your laundry too?”

He can only nod, the words he wants to say stuck in his throat.

Their first time going out together is at Hagakure Ramen. He thinks it’s appropriate considering food is a necessity and she’s their field leader and she needs her strength to lead them through Tartarus. He orders two extra-large specials. Despite her initial shock, she polishes it clean and he has to admit he’s impressed. 

As she’s eating, he notices the way she takes in large amounts of noodles and slurps them up. She isn’t particularly loud but the sound hits him hard nonetheless. Her eyes are are so focused on the noodles, on finishing them he thinks he sees them flashing, brighter than he’s ever seen her eyes before. The determination set on her face is easy to read, but something else tells him that he can tell because he’s staring so hard at her. 

Empty bowls and full stomachs, few words are exchanged, sounding more structured and business-like than a conversation between friends, if they’re even that. They jog back to the dorm and part ways. 

“Don’t catch a cold,” she says after their run.

He smiles, thinking himself invincible if only for that moment, if only to show off to her. “This is nothing. I’ll be fine.”

He sneezes a moment later and hears her giggle, well trying to stifle her giggle. The tips of his ears are burning and that burning makes its way to his cheeks. 

“I said I’ll be fine,” he says again. 

She smiles and nods as if she believes him and he feels like a little kid again, being pacified by an adult. A nice breeze blows past them. The sweat against his body feels chilled but he likes it; it’s a nice feeling after a long run. The wind ruffles her hair, as if to say hello to an old friend. She welcomes it with open arms and a relaxed laugh. Strands of her hair are loosen thanks to the wind. She carefully brushes them out of her eyes and pins them back. 

This simple act, he’s seen it done many times all ready. But not like this. Not in this quiet kind of way, in the privacy of just him and her and the wind. It feels intimate, almost like a secret they share. She turns to look at him then. And smiles because that’s her thing.

“Are you ready to go, Senpai?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He’s willing to go anywhere with her. To the ends of the earth and back, even. He thinks it’s the run that’s making his heart pound, his hands shaky. Yeah, he thinks. It’s the run. I’m just tired. Tired thoughts for tired people. 

“So, what’s your type?” she asks him on their third hang out.

He considers the question. Type? It doesn’t connect that she’s asking about girls so he wonders what type of beef bowl is his favorite. It only makes sense since they were just there. She bites her lips to keep herself from smiling. Ah, he thinks. He gets it now.

“…Oh, you’re talking about girls.” He chuckles. It’s more of a self-deprecating laugh. “What type of girls do I like…”

He’s never really thought about girls before. Or really anyone who isn’t in his immediate group of friends which amounts to Shinjiro and sometimes Mitsuru if they’re in the mood to be friendly with each other. It’s not that he doesn’t want some sort of intimacy with someone, but he carries a heavy burden on his shoulders and guilt in his heart. This burden, the aftermath of Miki’s death, is heavy, too overbearing. How can he possible drag someone else, someone not part of his sordid past, into it?

Even as he mutters all this to himself, she is there, patient and listening, not too close but not too far either. Maybe, he thinks, the type of girls he likes is right here in front of him. Junpei’s words of “advice” slips through his head. He might as well say it seeing as how she’s still waiting, though he isn’t sure if she’s waiting for an actual answer or if she’s just waiting for him.

“…Oh, yeah. The type I like is…” He pauses. These corny one-liners are harder to say than he thought. How does Junpei do it all the time? The words are on the tip of his tongue; he can feel the inevitable blush forcing its way to his cheeks. “N-never mind.” 

She’s looking at him curiously; his blush getting hotter, redder, burner more than before. She’s trying her best not to laugh.

“I-I’d been told that whenever a girl asks that, the right answer is always ‘Girls like you…’” He coughs, trying to hide the embarrassment apparent on his face. “…But I can’t bring myself to say it! Argh! Damn that Junpei…” 

And she laughs. The dam finally bursts and the sound of her laughter reaches his ear and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a sound more beautiful than that of her laugh. The way her eyes close, the way one hand clutches her stomach and the other coming up to her mouth, as if to stop it for his sake. She’s beautiful. It’s almost too much for him to take in but his eyes can’t take themselves off her. Her stifling laugh, quiet, breathless, trying oh so hard to be kept down. All for his sake. For his feelings.

He feels something bubbling in his throat. It makes its way up and out his mouth and he realizes it’s his own laugh. He laughs with her and her laughter is no longer soundless. It’s bursting just like his heart. 

Going out with Junpei. Those words have been plaguing his mind since this morning when he first heard it whispered between two students by the school gate. Minako and Junpei? He can see why people would think that, even he has doubts that they’re just friends. He’s irritated, on edge, fidgety the whole day. Going out with Junpei. It runs through his mind again. 

He’s standing at his usual spot on the laboratory floor on the first floor when he hears light footsteps skipping down the stairs. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s her. His usual excitement at seeing her is covered with feelings of irritation and discomfort and anxiety. Is it true? He wants to ask. They walk back to the dorm together with no words exchanged and the silence not so comfortable. She asks him if he’s sick, worried, concerned. 

He hesitates but blurts it out anyway. “Is it true you’re going out with Junpei?”

“Don’t even joke about it,” she deadpans. 

Though she’s joking around, he can tell she’s serious. Her eyes stare up at him, challenging him to deny it and keep fighting her, if he dares. Asshole. That’s what he is. For bringing up something this like. It’s not even his business. 

“Where did you even get that idea?” she asks.

His eyes turn downward. “Oh, no, it was just a rumor I heard. Sorry.”

She shakes her head conveying so much meaning with it. She smiles at him and things are almost all right again. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Senpai.”

Don’t get the wrong idea, Senpai. Senpai. Him. She’s directing it at him. The emphasis on Senpai, the emphasis on him. She doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Something akin to hope flickers in his heart. He doesn’t quite know why but maybe he has an idea of it, an idea foreign to him, left untouched for how many years he’s been on this earth.

“It’s bad enough that I listened to a rumor, but then I confronted you about it…It was incredibly rude of me. If I hear anyone say that again, I’ll tell them it’s not true.”

She gives him an appreciative smile. “You don’t have to do that.” 

Because you knowing the truth is all I need. 

He’s surprised. Does she not want the truth known? He ponders it some more and says, “Is that so? Well, maybe it’s best to avoid giving rumors any credibility by trying to deny them.” He nods, understanding why she wouldn’t want him to take unnecessary actions.

They usually go out to eat, but he was so wrapped up in the rumor about her and Junpei dating, eating didn’t seem that important. It’s over and done with now and he’s hungry and eating is their thing and he wants to share it with her. 

“Umm…Should we get something on our way home?” He’s only just realized they’re in front of the dorm. “…Oh, we’re already all the way back at the dorm.” He’ll be damned if they don’t eat anything before returning. “Um…Do you want to eat anything?”

He expects her to say something sweet. She has a sweet tooth, probably the biggest sweet tooth in the whole dorm. 

“Something spicy!” she says instead.

He smiles. “Yeah…That might be nice for a change.”

She grins, nudging him in the ribs. “You’re paying, Senpai. For believing such a ridiculous rumor and for making us both wait so long to eat something.”

The weight has been lifted from his shoulders. All at once he feels relieved, relaxed, calm. The feelings she usually evokes when she’s with him. She straightens her skirt, smoothing them between her hands and thighs, checking to make sure nothing on her being looks too out of place. The casual way in which she shows him little things about herself warms him over, a sort of different fondness, affection sweeps in and over him. Not the kind he once felt for Miki, similar but not the same. 

She grabs onto his arm and looks up at him. “Come on, Senpai, let’s goooooo!”

He laughs and says “Well then, shall we?” and they’re off. 

This thing they have—friendship? mere companionship? casual dorm mates? schoolmates?—feels fairly one-sided. Not in the way of one person liking the other more. It just seems to him that every time they’ve hung out, he’s the one who’s talking about his feelings, doing the things he likes with her, and not much of what she wants. Especially since the last time they hung out, he confronted her about a rumor and she was gracious enough not to skin him alive for it.

He knows a place—well, know of—in the Iwatodai strip mall that Minako might like. The Sweet Shop. He isn’t an expert on girls—people, really, for that matter. But he’s heard that girls like sweets and Minako’s a girl therefore she must like sweets, or like them more than he does. He takes her there but once there an uncomfortable feeling spreads through him. Shit, shit shit, he thinks. Why did he even come here? This isn’t his element.

“A-Are guys allowed to go in there…?”

She looks up at him. “Haven’t you ever been in here?”

“I-It’s not the kind of place most guys would go to…” Not to mention the fact he doesn’t like sweets much, if at all. There’s no protein in sweets so what’s the point, really? 

He disregards these thoughts as Minako takes his arm and pulls him into the Sweet Shop. He feels less whatever he was feeling when she touches him. This isn’t courage-worthy, brave Shadow fighting level, but he feels like he can get through this if she’s there with him. A cake can’t possibly be more intimidating or life-threatening than a Shadow. Right?

They share a cake. It feels like eating spoonfuls of sugar one right after another. Minako’s having the time of her life so he doesn’t regret this decision, swallowing every last bite of these sugar lumps. Seeing her happy is what he wanted. They leave the Sweet Shop; he’s still hungry. 

“That was rather sweet…” he says after they’re outside.

Her lips curve downward into a frown. “Did you not like it?” 

Shit, no, no, no. Don’t get the wrong idea! He quickly tries to smooth it over. “Oh…I mean, I don’t hate having sweets…But I really don’t have them that often, so I was surprised at how sugary it was.” That isn’t any better. Of course sweets are sugary. Idiot, idiot, idiot, he thinks.

One more time. “And…I heard that girls like eating sweet things, so…” God, this can’t get any worse. 

She smiles, her nose scrunching up and her eyes turning into half moons, knowing. He was wrong; it can get worse because she knows and he’s a fucking loser. 

“Senpai…” she says, almost breathless, as if she can’t believe it herself that he’d gone out of his way to do something she might like. “You’re…you’re actually very sweet, aren’t you?” She giggles, like it’s a funny joke. But it isn’t mean; he understands.

He changes the subject. Back to the sugary lump in his throat. Then onto Yukari who gives him sweets when she can’t eat anymore. And he’s wondering why he’s nervous, his palms sweaty and shaking and eyes shifting to her to read her expression. It’s just Yukari he’s bringing up, so why does it all feel so wrong to talk about her right here, right now?

“…But it’s not important right now,” he adds hastily. “Um…Are you still hungry? Want to get some real food? It doesn’t have to be something sweet…” 

She nods her head excitedly and he smiles because sweets aren’t real food and this means more time with her. As they’re about to get some ramen or some beef bowls (they haven’t decided yet), a voice calls out his name and he inwardly cringes. 

“Oh, Akihiko-senpai!”

Two girls. The ones from before. They run up to him, completely cornering him into having a conversation. “Say, why’re you here with Junpei’s girlfriend?” The girl with buns then turns to Minako. “Like, stop stealing all the single guys when you’ve already got one for yourself!”

He wants to jump in and deny it because it isn’t true and she’s not Junpei’s girlfriend and can they stop it with the rumors because she’s here with him, damn it! Him. Not Junpei. 

“I’m not stealing anybody,” Minako replies calmly. It’s admirable, the way she can hold in her frustration. 

“Whatever! Who asked you?” the other girl butts in.

Clearly not here to get answers, he cuts in. Enough is enough. They can bother him all they want, but Minako shouldn’t get dragged into this just for spending time with him, especially not on his request. “As you can see, I’m here with Minako right now. We’ll have to talk some other time. Let’s go, Minako.”

He grabs her hand and takes her away from the girls, from the area, to somewhere safer without prying eyes and accusations. Somehow, they end up in front of the dorm. Guess this is their safe place after all. He’s still holding her hand, a little too tightly he realizes and lets go. He doesn’t feel as bad as he should—would usually. 

“…Oh, sorry. Did I hurt your hand?” She shakes her head no. “…Sorry about what happened back there.”

She shakes her head again and says, “It’s not your fault, Senpai.”

Her words are softly spoken, a rarity for someone as loud and vibrant as she. She looks so delicate, so fragile in that moment, eyes staring unapologetically at him so different from her outward demeanor. Has anyone seen this side of her? he wonders. He wants to keep this moment of her locked somewhere inside his mind, his heart. This moment of her looking so paradoxical, delicate, unapologetic, unlike anyone he’s ever seen before. This moment is his alone—hers to share with him.

“…I’m glad to hear you say that,” he says after a moment or two. “All this about me showing off and taking someone else’s girlfriend…There are people in my class saying things about me, too…” He’s relieved she doesn’t blame him. He can only hope she doesn’t blame herself for the rumors spreading about him now.

She smiles and he knows she understands. Her smile says it all. He can tell what she’s thinking by it, by how she smiles, if they reach her eyes or not, if they’re slightly crooked, or opened to wide or clamp shut like a grimace. Can Junpei do that? He’d rather not think about why Junpei crosses his mind. 

“…I had fun today. It’s nice to have sweet things once in a while. We should go out for pancakes next time.” Because there will always be a next time with them. He’s sure of it. 

Her eyes widen as she says, “Pancakes?” Not believing that Sanada Akihiko, boxing champion, likes pancakes. 

“…I like them.” He chuckles. “Haha, does that seem like the kind of I wouldn’t like?” He lets out another laugh, this one more self-deprecating. He doesn’t blame her. With his aloof and tough facade, his hardened edges, his past, his everything, the connection between him and liking something as simple as pancakes is hard to see. 

Minako shakes her head again. “No, it’s not that. It’s just—pancakes are so simple. I mean, simple in terms of taste and preparation. You’re—I don’t know how to put it. But I think I can see the connection now. Sanada Akihiko, a simple man, with simple wants and taste. Pancakes.” She laughs at her own joke. 

He thinks it’s corny and terrible but he relishes this moment. Her joke. Her laugh. But she gets it, gets him and it makes him feel. Just feel. And so he will relish this moment with her. He wonders how her laugh can be so powerful, so loud, and yet so quiet and intimate. 

“Pancakes are something I can make. I’ll make them for you one day!”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“It’s a promise then. And I don’t break my promises! Okay, well, I don’t break them often.”

He laughs. “It’s a promise then,” he repeats. “Now, let’s go home.” And for the first time in a long time, he feels home. He’s not sure if it’s the dorm he’s become attached to or if his home isn’t a building, but a person, a feeling. 

They’re at the strip mall again. This time it’s Wild Duck Burger they’re having. He laughs to himself because food, food, food, it’s always food with them when they’re together. Not that he minds. Time with her and protein, all he needs in life, he thinks. It’s a joke, of course, but he doesn’t find it as funny, more true than anything. It’s busy inside but he manages to find a table. Their conversations flow more naturally now. It’s like they’ve known each other their whole lives or at least most of their lives. The flow of the conversation is stopped short by a child’s wails. He isn’t bothered by it. Kids are kids. Some kinds don’t get to enjoy being a kid, having their innocence in tact until it’s time for them to grow up, mature. Minako gets up to order something else as the kid continues to wail and he asks her to order something for him as he hands her some money.

She comes back as the family next to them leaves. He watches them go, a feeling (nostalgia, he thinks), wells up inside him. Not a nostalgia for his past but what could have been. If his parents were still alive, if Miki were still alive, if he still had a family. 

“…He was full of energy.”

“He’s just a kid,” Minako says.

“Then you shouldn’t hold it against him that he’s acting like one…” Akihiko laughs. He knows she doesn’t have anything against the kid. She seems to be the type of person to befriend anyone, even a child and still view that child as an equal to herself. 

His thoughts drift back to the kid and his parents. He was never a loud child, not like him. He didn’t whine or complain or make a scene whenever he didn’t get his way. Maybe, he thinks, it’s really cause I didn’t have parents. And the taunts from his fellow kids come rushing back.

“Minako…” he says, softly, unsure of his own voice. “Do you think I’m…strange?” He braces himself for the answer.

"You’re charming,” she says without a moment’s hesitation.

“Wait, what? Th-That’s not what I asked!” God, did she have to say things like that so casually? It made his heart beat twice as fast and his face as red as a tomato. But he’s relieved, nonetheless, that she doesn’t find him strange. 

“Sometimes people tell me that I’m a weird guy, or that I act kind of strange…Normally, I wouldn’t let that kind of thing get to me…But back in the day…” He’s telling her about his past. He hasn’t told anyone this in a long time. The only person he’s told is Mitsuru—Shinji’s been there with him all the way. But this feels different. He told Mitsuru more out of obligation, out of a kind of loneliness he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle yet. This time, he’s telling someone because he wants to.

“…They’d say I was like that because I didn’t have any parents. It’s not like I could do anything about that…That’s why…I wanted to show them that they were wrong.” He scoffs at himself, at his younger self. “Psh…That doesn’t matter now. That all happened when I was a kid anyway…I mean, the orphanage wasn’t all bad, either.”

He thinks back to happier days of his childhood, days where Miki was still alive and Shinji was still around, and they were all so young, hands not yet seeped in blood and no guilt in their hearts. He’s back in the next moment and Minako’s staring at him. Not with pity, not with—not with anything he can really explain, but it makes him feel more validated in telling her his story.

“Oh, sorry…I don’t think I ever told you. I don’t have any parents. My sister and I grew up in an orphanage.” He pauses. This next part is always hard to say. “…My sister’s long gone too.”

She’s not saying anything, not even nodding. But he knows she understands. And he remembers the circumstances of her coming to Iwatodai and residence at the dorm. She’d lost her parents too. Ten years ago, if he remembers correctly. How selfish, he thinks. Here he is talking about his losses when she, too, had to deal with her own losses. 

“…That reminds me, you don’t have parents either.” He might as well put his own foot in his mouth. “Ah, sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

That’s why she understands. She lost her parents, the only family she’d ever really known. He’d lost his parents—memories of them were hazy, but Miki, his sister, she was the only family he’d really known and he lost her. Minako understands loss. He thinks that’s why he was drawn to her in the first place. Her abilities are amazing, yes, but she knows what it’s like and maybe that’s why he’s really telling her all this. He just wants someone else to understand, to share with. Not as a way of trying to move on—no, he has to do that himself. But finding comfort in someone who can help him in that process, she’s it. 

“No, wait…I think that might be why I wanted you to hear what I had to say about this.” He smiles wryly. “…Because I think I can depend on you to understand me.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for talking about that sort of thing. We should start heading back.”

He stands up from his seat; she follows suit. Before he can take one step, Minako takes his hand in hers, the first time she’s done that. He’s shocked, of course, but doesn’t remove his hand from hers. He revels the warmth of her palm against his skin. He looks down at her as she strokes her thumb against his knuckles, as if they were delicate, the most precious thing in the world to her. She takes her other hand and strokes his. A shiver runs down his spine and still he doesn’t pull away.

Minako, wordlessly, continues her ministrations, her touch holding a new kind of gentleness he’s never known before. The way her eyes are downcast, from where he’s standing, gives full view of her long thick lashes that look like they’re softly brushing against her cheeks. Her lips curl into a smile as she squeezes his hand, reassuring him in whatever we she can. When she finally looks up at him, he forgets to breathe.

“Senpai…” she whispers. “One day, no matter how long, you will be able to accept all parts of yourself. Your past, your present, your future. All of it. And I hope I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

She drops his hand and heads for the doors. The moment is over but he’s still stuck in it somehow.

“Hurry up, Senpai! Or Mitsuru-senpai’s gonna execute us!”

They return to the dorm and part aways again. 

It’s been gnawing at him for some time now. Every time they go to Tartarus, every time a new Shadow appears, he wants to—he wants to taker her away from it. No, that’s not exactly right. He wants to take her place, to fight on the frontline, to be the target of hits instead of her. It’s not possible, not with his weaknesses and her abilities. It’s hard to get the words out; he stutters, stumbling over every other word, pausing for too long. 

“I feel…angry,” he says.

Minako’s brows furrows and she’s squinting, hurt. “What should I do?”

She takes it the wrong way and he wants to hit himself for not being able to speak as eloquently as Mitsuru. Hell, even Ken can spit out better sentences. 

“Oh, no…I didn’t really mean it that way…” He scratches his head, trying to find a better word than angry. “It’s not so much that I get angry, but I get irritated. No, it’s not that either. I guess…I get nervous.” Nervous that you’ll die, that you’ll leave m—us too soon, that everything and everyone will fall apart.

Minako bites her lip. Nervous. That’s never a good thing to hear. Nervous was how her distant relatives felt around her, passing her to others one right after another. She bites into her lip a bit harder thinking about it. “Do I seem unreliable?” Am I a burden? Some kind of monster? Because I feel like that sometimes. Please don’t think of me that way too, Senpai.

Akihiko shakes his head. “No…You’re really doing a great job.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, so soft, so small he doesn’t hear it. Maybe it’s for the better.

She waits for him to speak. His mouth almost opening and then shutting completely, she wonders if it’s hard for him to get the words out, if she’s not his confidant anymore. 

“Is…” he starts. “Is there any way…that you can avoid having to fight?” He realizes what he’s just said. “Oh…Never mind, sorry. Forget what I just said. I mean, you’re trying the hardest out of all of us. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” 

It’s ironic, that much doesn’t even need to be said. Him, boxing champion, telling someone not to fight. He’s the one who always fights, who’s always looking for a fight, for someone to fight and here he is telling their field leader if she can avoid it. He must be losing his mind. It’s all so messed up. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks, the concern in her voice evident. 

“…Sorry. I’m confused, myself…” He sighs. “What am I saying…?”

He’s an idiot. He knows that. He’s not good with dealing with his own emotions much less that of anyone else. Social cues aren’t exactly his forte either. But he knows; he knows why he doesn’t want her to fight. When she’s fighting, she gets hurt. When a Shadow strikes her, she flies back and it’s all in slow motion to him. The attack, her fall, his legs running too slowly to her. It all hurts too much. Doesn’t feel right. 

“Deep down, I know why I don’t want you to be fighting…It’s just that…” He can do this. “I’m worried about you.”

There. Embarrassing. He’s red again. Refusing to meet her eyes, he stares at the floor. She doesn’t say anything (probably because he isn’t even looking at her).

“C’mon…Eat. Eat up.”

He digs into his ramen, not bothering to look at her. Her stare burns the side of his face until he gives in because she doesn’t and looks at her. She’s staring at him with her big red eyes, shining brighter than usual today. She meets his gaze and smiles.

“You have some noodle stuck on your chin,” she says gesturing to her own chin.

He quickly wipes it while she giggles. She digs into her own ramen, but not before she mumbles a “thank you” and he’s left staring at her. Unfazed, she continues eating. Her slurps range from loud to soft to short to long and that drowning feeling is back.

The walk to Naganaki Shrine is done in silence except for the crunching of Autumn leaves under their feet. A lot is on his mind; he doesn’t know where to begin. All he knows is that Minako is here and she’s always willing to listen to him.

“Thanks for coming out today…”

She pats his arm, trying to relieve the tension in the air. “I’m happy to be with you.”

Fluttering. 

The words are hard to get out. He says half of a sentence, then stops himself. She, thankfully, doesn’t comment on it. It’s a trait she’s always had, but he thinks she’s grown accustomed to him, knows his little quirks, and that’s why she chooses not to say anything when he’s the one that has something needed to be said. 

“If…If you don’t mind, can I talk to you about something?”

She nods, expecting it. “Yes, of course.”

He starts off slowly, unsure of what words to say. He mentions Miki, because gods know it’s always been about Miki. “My younger sister, who I couldn’t save…” The process of talking, sharing your feelings, is hard. It gets harder the more he talks, not easier like those TV shows and movies had said.

“I was the only person she had. There weren’t any kids around her age at the orphanage, so she didn’t have any friends. She’d always tag along after me, and call me ‘big bro’ all the time…” He bites down on his lip. One part wishing to get what needed to be said out, the other wanting to take the hurt, the memories and bury it away again. No, he’s come too far. 

“Why…did she have to die? She was so small…She never knew her parents’ faces, or had good food to eat, or got to have any toys…She had nothing…” She had nothing while he has—not everything, he knows that—but more than what she’ll ever have. And maybe that’s part of his guilt too. Not just being unable to save her, but for living while she’s long dead, long gone. “Isn’t there some saying…like about how being alive is a kind of sin?” Because his existence sure as hell feels like one.

Minako clenches her fists and almost stomps her feet, as if about to throw a tantrum. “That’s not true!” She wants to say more, she really does. Her mouth won’t listen and her emotions are too jumbled. But she knows being alive isn’t a sin, especially not his existence. 

He croaks out her name because she’s here and she’s alive and she’s real, existing in the same time, same place as he. “She’d dead and gone…I understand that, and I’ve accepted it. I have to live with that for the rest of my life…” He’s getting close to the confessing. Confessing his selfish wish, that he used her, used her to satiate his own guilt. 

“Here’s what I wanted to tell you…” Deep breath. In and out. In and out. “I thought…I wanted you to help me bear that burden. I know that it’s terrible of me to ask this of you…I’m—I’m sorry…” He turns away from her after bearing himself, naked, vulnerable. 

Minako isn’t sure why he’s telling her all this. He’s right, though. It is terrible of him. She doesn’t mind being his confidant, someone he’s willing to spill truths to while telling others pretty lies that won’t hurt them if they don’t know. But she isn’t a bearer of the burdens, someone for him to give the burden to to ease his own pain. He needs to get over that on his own. 

Before she can say it, he speaks up. “I…might be seeing Miki in you.” It sounds wrong to compare his feelings for Minako to his feelings for Miki. Now it does, anyway. “But if that’s not what it is, then these feelings I have…” Not sure he’s able to voice it, he trails off.

“Why don’t we start heading home?”

As he turns to leave, she reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling him back slightly. 

“Senpai. This is not my burden to bear. It is your burden and what you choose to do with it is up to you.” She squeezes his hand and feels him squeezing back. “You’ve accepted her death. The next step is yours to take, be it backwards or forwards. I can’t do it for you. But I am here for you, whenever you might need me.” She drops his hand and heads down the steps.

I can’t believe I said that to Senpai.

Feet still, he ruminates on her words. She’s right. All of what she said is true. It’s always in the back of his mind. He laughs self-deprecatingly. It’s always been his decision, his choice. He was foolish to think someone could do this for him. He knows all this, but somehow, her words give him the push he needs. A push no one was willing to give him before (at least not straightforwardly). Mitsuru was always tiptoeing around the subject, having lost her mother but not really remembering. Besides, she probably thought she had no place saying anything seeing as how her father is still alive. And Shinji. Shinji was like him. Guilt coursing through both of them. While Shinji ran from it, Akihiko chose to bury it and compensate for it in strength, power. 

Miki’s dead. Minako’s not a replacement for his misplaced feelings of guilt. He was just a kid; a kid who couldn’t change anything. Just a kid. He thinks back to that boy with his family at Wild Duck. That boy was loud, whiny. But he wasn’t bothered by it. He’s just a kid. Just like Akihiko was when Miki died. He can see his younger self, in tears, on the ground, wrecked by Miki’s death. He chokes out a laugh. He hasn’t been the one to bear this burden. The kid, the past him, is the one bearing the guilt, the blame. Forcing a kid to deal with this when he was just a child. He is really a hypocrite. Maybe he isn’t as different from Shinji as he thinks. Miki would probably be angry with him for feeling this way over something he couldn’t control. 

“Big bro! You’re so stupid!”

“Heh, you’re right, Miki. I am stupid.”

He has a lot to apologize for, but not being able to save Miki, being alive, those aren’t things he should carry like a weight. This life—his life—isn’t meant to be lived in guilt, shame, hurt. His pain isn’t meant for this. He’ll get stronger, for Miki (for himself), not because of her. He looks down at his hand, clenches it into a fist, and smiles. Pain—his pain—has gotten him this far. It’s time, he thinks, to use this pain, to embrace it and better himself rather than hide it behind some angsty facade, than take it out by fighting senselessly. 

“Miki, I hope wherever you are, you’re watching me…Cause I’m going to show you what I can really do now.”

He leaves the shrine and heads back to the dorm. Minako is sitting on the couch discussing something with Fuuka. She turns her head towards him as he makes his way upstairs. Her eyes striking him, questioning, concerned. He gives her a smile. She smiles back. 

Thanks, Minako.

It was all you, Senpai.

Your words helped me, gave me that push.

It’s always been your choice. But I’m glad.

Yeah, me too.

“Hmm? Minako-chan? Are you okay? You’ve been staring at Akihiko-senpai for a while now,” Fuuka says, shaking her shoulder.

Minako blinks and faces Fuuka, smiling and waving her hand. “Oh, you know, Akihiko-senpai’s just really hot!” She laughs, hoping Fuuka’s off her trail.

The other girl furrows her brows. “Oh? Okay, well, it’s just…he was staring at you too.”

Minako makes some other comment and changes the subject. Thankfully, Fuuka goes along with it. Akihiko remains, blocking the stairs but no one’s around so it doesn’t matter. He watches Minako stutter and flush and take the remote, turning on the TV. Fuuka’s attention turns to a shopping program playing. Minako breathes a sigh of relief, her cheeks still flushing pink. It’s a rare sight of her and his heart hurts, a different kind of pain envelopes him. 

“Minako…” he whispers a name as softly as he can, wanting to taste her name on his tongue, feel it on his lips. She turns to him and his heart stops. Silently, he prays she hadn’t heard him. She catches his stare and hurriedly turns her attention back to the TV.

He’s been avoiding her for some time now. Not purposefully, of course. It’s just that every time he’s in her vicinity, he doesn’t feel—well, normal, is the best way he can put it. The distance he keeps between them affects her from the way she stares at him to the way she half raises her hand to wave and then stops herself. This needs to end, so he comes into her class during lunchtime one day and asks if she can come with him to the roof. The stares from her classmates unnerve him. Shifting his gaze back on her, his resolve remains strong.

She agrees and here they are. He doesn’t know what to say, exactly.

“There’s no one here…That’s a pity, since the wind is so nice right now.” He closes his eyes for a moment, just to feel the breeze and nothing else. 

She shuffles from one foot to the other. It’s been a while since they’ve hung out together. Scratching the back of her neck, she asks, “Do you come here often?”

He shakes his head no. He comes to the roof from time to time, but usually it’s Shinji that calls for him (in his own way). This brings back memories, he thinks. He tells her about Shinji and skipping classes and club activities. Like he used to before he started feeling not normal around her. Nostalgia wraps its hands around him, this time more pleasant than it used to be, almost like an embrace instead of hands at his neck, choking. 

Turning towards the skyline, he says, “You can see out into the distance from here…It’s so far that my eyes start to hurt trying to see it all…” He wonders how long he’ll be able to see this, feel this calm, this peaceful. College is approaching and things are changing, but he wants to keep moments like this locked up in his heart.

He turns to Minako, ready to spill it all out. Surely, he’ll fumble with his apology. Surely.

“You remember the stuff I told you about my sister?”

She nods. Of course she remembers. He had said she reminded him of his sister, or rather, he saw his sister in her. She didn’t know how to take it (still doesn’t).

“I’m tired of losing what’s important,” he continues. “I thought it would be better not to let things get too important than to risk losing them…” He looks up at her, determined to tell her this, to get it through to her, and himself. “But lately, I don’t think so.”

The intensity of his stare almost makes her look down. She holds on, like she always does. 

"If I want to avoid that feeling…I have to work to protect what’s precious to me. And that means everything precious. Ken, Mitsuru, and you too…” he whispers that last part and she feels her heart jump out of her chest. 

“I’ll take care of it all.”

She believes him. His whole life has been about loss and fighting and running away. But she believes him because she knows the pain of loss and the strength to keep carrying on and to keep protecting those you have left, those you love.

The next part of his apology is hard to get out into words. He’s staring at her intently, he knows. The edge she’s putting him on isn’t helping either. She raises an eyebrow, not sure what he wants from her.

“Tell me what you need to say.”

Startled, he blurts out, “I-I will! I was getting to it!”

Minako thinks he doesn’t know he’s shouting. Cute. The blush on his cheeks doesn’t help his cause but it warms her heart anyway. Ah. He’s…nervous.

“Um…so…!” Apologies are harder than he thought, just like everything else he’s learned. “It’s really strange. I really liked hanging out together…I used to, anyway.”

Used to? She cocks her head to the side, not quite understanding the situation. Does he find her unappealing now? Has she done something to make him upset with her? No, that can’t be right. He said he wanted to protect everything precious to him…and that includes me…

His eyes turn downward, finding his shoes much more interesting to look at. Deep breath. Deep breath. “But now…I feel all tense and on edge…It’s the weirdest thing.”

Tense and on edge? She makes him feel that way? Although Minako isn’t very experienced in love and relationships, she’s watched enough movies and marathoned through enough TV shows to know what this means.

“You’re in love.”

“L-love…?” he says as if it was the furthest thing from his mind. “This is love? Huh…” He snaps out of his daze and looks at, really looks at her. “…Oh!” He can feel every part of his face heat up and he curses the heavens for the way his face shows her everything. 

“It already slipped out, but…I’d…like to know how you feel.” He takes another deep breath. “Will you be my girl?”

She doesn’t think twice and the yes slips out of her mouth before she can register anything else. 

“Really!?”

His arms envelope her in a tight embrace. It puts her on auto, wrapping her arms around his waist like it’s the most naturally thing in the world to her. He tenses and lets her go.

“Oh, sorry! Um…” Scratching the back of his head, he says, “Well then…Here’s hoping for the best, right?”

God, can he get anymore awkward? Who says that to the girl who just accepted your proposal to be your girl? He did, apparently. 

“Wow…This got awkward all of a sudden…” No shit, he thinks to himself, mentally slapping his face. 

Minako smiles, her eyes turning into crescent moons as she steps closer to him and laces their fingers together. “It’s okay, Senpai. I like your awkwardness. I like your determination. I like how you blush at the slightest physical contact. I like how you want to protect everyone. I like everything about you.”

She raises their laced fingers and kisses his knuckles. He shivers. The act is so intimate he can’t quite process it. All he knows is that she loves him and she’s here and she’s beautiful and everything around them is at peace, even if it’s just for this one moment. He loves her. 

They’re back at Hagakure Ramen. It comes full circle, back to the place it all began. It’s not the best place to have a serious conversation, not with all the noise and chatter and clattering of eating utensils. She touches his arm, rubbing it slowly, up and down, up and down. 

“Here.” He hands her a rabbit doll he saw in a toy store.

She takes it, holding it against her chest firmly yet delicately. His first gift to her.

“Don’t you think it looks like you?” he asks, completely serious.

Her eyes widen, brows furrow, mouth turn downward into a pout. Unbelievable!

“What’s with that face?” He chuckles. “It looks just like you…” A pause. “ There was a time when…I thought I was just seeing Miki in you. But when I bought that…I knew then that wasn’t the case. Passing by toy stores always made me think of Miki. But I still kept trying to forget about her. I didn’t want to face what happened…”

She places her hand over his and gives it a light squeeze. He turns his hand over, taking her hand into his palm and strokes her knuckles with his thumb. 

“I kept telling myself I was doing everything I could…Then when I saw that in the store,” He breaks out into a smile, “your face was the first thing that popped into my mind. And then I thought about Miki…I thought about her smiling…If it hadn’t been for you,” He gives her hand a squeeze, “I might never have gotten over it. I would’ve just pretended that I did…”

He stares down at his bowl of ramen. “I wonder how things would’ve gone if you hadn’t come here…” He mumbles out more of what he has to say, loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough to let her know it’s mostly for himself to let out.

“But, no matter what lies ahead, we’ll be all right. We’re friends, and we share our fates. I hope that we’ll be able to work together…all of us.” He laughs gently; his laugh carrying with it the weight he’s been carrying since long ago. “Tell me if you’re ever going through a rough time, okay? You seem like the type who’ll try to carry a heavy burden in silence…You’ve got me…” He wants to stop there, but it doesn’t seem right. “…and your friends. If you ever need our help, I’ll be there.”

She’s sure by now her ears are red as well as her face and she couldn’t possibly play if off, saying it’s because the ramen’s too hot. He’d know.

“Speaking of which…You gonna eat those noodles?” 

She jabs her elbow into his rib. “Senpai! You can’t ju—oh, you jerk!”

He laughs, taking her arms and holding them still. “…I’m kidding! Don’t get mad!” 

The weight has been lifted, gone. He’s eating one of his favorite food. He’s with the girl he loves. All isn’t well, but this moment, in their favorite place, from beginning to end, he’ll cherish it. He’ll cherish it all. 

Early mornings are usually when he goes out for a light jog. The others are awake when he’s back, getting ready for another day of school. He starts to head up the stairs, thinking about a quick shower and some light breakfast so he won’t be late. There’s chatter in the air but it all sounds like white noise to him; he’s used to it. 

He catches glimpses of his dorm mates moving about, rushing here to there, bumping into each other as they do so. It’s a ruckus. He’s used to it by now, giving him a sense of comfort in its familiarity. It gives the dorm a more permanent feeling of home. Before they moved in, it was just him, Mitsuru, and Shinji. The thought of this place becoming a home never registered in his head. As he looks around now, this is probably the closest to home he’s ever gotten.

He spots an anomaly. Minako, usually the one who moves the most (especially in the mornings, oversleeping and all), is standing still in front of a mirror. His surroundings are hazy and he can only focus on her. Everything else is out of touch, blurry. But she’s there, quietly fixing her bangs, moving them from one side to the other. She straightens out her hair pins, smoothing her uniform, making sure everything’s in place, or at least not a total mess. 

He usually never gets to see her in the mornings (not like this, at least). It’s so quiet, and she’s so quiet. And in these quiet moments, he loves her. He loves her so desperately, so much he feels like he’s dying.

So this is love. 

Giving her one last glance, he makes his way upstairs, locking another memory of her in his heart. 

March 5th. 

She’s leaning her head on his shoulder, more quiet than he’s ever seen her. She doesn’t wake. The next few days are a blur. Coma. Dead. Gone. 

Gone. Gone. Gone.

She’s gone.

He doesn’t cry. Not even on her funeral. God, her funeral. Everyone she’s made friends with is here, looking appropriately grim, somber, tears running down their faces. Yukari buries her face in Mitsuru’s neck as the older girl pats her back, trying to keep in her own tears. As much as Junpei tries to prove he’s a man-man, the red rimming his eyes is apparent. Fuuka sits with Ken and Koromaru, her face hidden by her hair. This is a mess; everything is a fucking mess. 

It’s his turn to go up to her casket. She looks like she’s sleeping, though paler than she usually is. He bites his tongue and pretends she really is just sleeping. But this is her funeral and he has to let go sometime soon. 

“You never made me pancakes.” His eyes are burning. “I thought you never break your promises?”

She doesn’t answer, of course. But he can hear her telling him Senpai! I said I don’t break my promises often! Geez, you never listen to me, you big jerk!

All he gets back is silence. Still, even in death she’s beautiful and it just hurts so much. He’ll never be able to touch her again, or feel her touch, never get to hear her voice, her laughter, her breathing after she’s fallen asleep in his room and he’s still awake. Still, she’s beautiful and he loves her. He loves her most in her quiet moments—this is her quietest moment and he loves her most here when she’s dead and gone just like everyone else in his life. 

And in these quiet moments, he loves her. He loves her so desperately, so much he feels like he’s dying. 

But she’s the dead one and he’s still alive, still breathing, and life goes on as it always does.