#sbau main plot

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Mitsuru crosses her arms, her expression steely.

Ryoji’s eyes dart nervously between the three of them as their… vigorous discussion… picks up steam.

He seems genuinely concerned, which is sweet of him even if it’s also totally unnecessary– as far as their verbal jousts go, this one is peanuts. Minato would even go as far as to say that it’s a good sign. A return to form that underlines Mitsuru’s recovery: she has the energy to pick a fight, and Sanada and Aragaki no longer feel compelled to treat her with kid gloves.

There’s another word that might describe what’s happening here a bit more accurately, but there’s no way Minato’s going to say it out loud. Not where they can hear, at least. He absolutely will not be the one to pop open that can of worms– they’ll have to do that themselves.

He’s kind of surprised that Ryoji doesn’t recognize what’s really going on, given what a Romeo he tends to be.

Then again, Minato has been realizing lately that there’s a surprising undercurrent of naivety running below Ryoji’s romantic streak. The conversation they’d had at the riverbank today was a shining example– how else would he have been able to say what he had so completely guilelessly?

That’s going to have to be something Minato fully unpacks later.

Their senpais’ bickering cuts off so abruptly that Minato can practically hear a record scratch sound effect. They turn to stare at Junpei in comical unison, then avert their gazes in three different directions, their expressions each a variable mix of alarmed, outraged, and mortified. 

As a reaction, the whole thing is wildly out of proportion to Junpei’s observation.

Unless, of course, he had hit a nerve.

Eyes squeezed shut, Mitsuru pinches the bridge of her nose. Sanada is rubbing his forehead as though fighting off a headache. Aragaki glares at the ceiling and looks for all the world like he’s praying for a God Hand to come crashing down on him.

So much for keeping the lid on that worm can.

This is honestly painful to watch. If something comes of these three finally acknowledging the messy cat’s-cradle of red string knotted between them, Minato will be happy for them. Really!

But he doesn’t particularly want to actually bear witness to the untangling process. So he turns towards Junpei and Ryoji and, channelling Aragaki, does the sensible thing.

Without allowing the opportunity for any arguments, Minato about-faces and hooks his arm through Ryoji’s. Junpei mirrors him, and together they drag him away towards the stairs.

The silence left behind when Mochizuki’s protests have faded into silence is elephantine.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Guiding Shinji through his physical therapy exercises today had been going really well for all of fifteen minutes, until Shinji apparently decided that making Akihiko’s life as difficult as possible sounded like a better use of his time.

So naturally, the PT session has devolved entirely into a wrestling match on the floor of Akihiko’s room, as though they’re still eight years old.

Akihiko wins handily. Too handily– it’s the easiest that he’s ever gotten Shinji pinned down during one of their bouts. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

An easy victory is never especially rewarding anyway, but against Shinji– someone who he could normally always count on for a challenge? It feels especially unsettling.

Equally unsettling is that despite all of that, he still finds something… compelling about the position they’re in: the tangle of their limbs, looking down at Shinji’s face from this angle, even the scowl Shinji is aiming at him.

It isn’t even that any of these things are brand new experiences; he’s been both the victor and the defeated countless times before. But it’s never led his thoughts in the direction they’re running off in now.

And alright, sure, lately he’s been having those kinds of thoughts about Shinji more frequently than ever before in general– but in this context, which is otherwise so familiar, so normal? It feels unfair.

Somehow he’s ended up in that damnable cat experiment again; a new and bizarre version where the dynamic between himself and Shinji exists impossibly in two mutually exclusive states at once:

Everything is the same as it’s always been, but everything is also different now. It’s going to take him a long time to get used to it.

“Yo, Aki. You fallin’ asleep up there?” Shinji’s expression has shifted from sulky to smug, like he knows exactly what’s got Akihiko so distracted.

Because of course he does, the bastard. Akihiko retreats, sitting back and hauling Shinji up by the forearm to sit as well.

“You know, it would be so much easier to get through these exercises if you would cooperate even a little,” Akihiko grouses. Shinji is outright grinning now, not the slightest bit chastised.

“Yeah, maybe. Be a lot more boring, though.”

“I am so glad that one of us is enjoying themselves, at least.”

“You know, I think being a sore winner might be a first from you.”

“So is you willingly admitting to a loss.”

Shinji scoffs, still smirking, and shakes his head. The elastic he’d used to tie back his hair had slipped down over the course of their impromptu scuffle, and it falls out entirely now. His hair immediately flops forward into his face, and Akihiko has to fight off the impulse to bury his fingers into it and card it back.

…Does he have to fight off the impulse, though? Is there an actual reason that he can’t lean into it other than being in the habit of denying himself?

After all, everything is different now.

Shinji is his– he and Shinji are together. That kind of thing is allowed, isn’t it? Encouraged, even.

So Akihiko shifts closer and threads his fingers through the hair on either side of Shinji’s face. Shinji’s eyes widen a fraction, but otherwise he doesn’t react.

Shinji’s hair has never exactly been soft, even when they were little, but Akihiko is pleased to find that its texture is less comparable to straw than it had been the last time he’d felt it just over two weeks ago.

Close to his scalp it’s slightly damp; whether that’s from the exercises Akihiko had actually managed to lead him through or from the tussle that had followed is anyone’s guess.He catches the smell of clean sweat as he continues to comb through, chased by the echo of soap. (Is it weirder for him to find that scent pleasant if it’s only Shinji’s that he enjoys, or if it isn’t? Maybe it’s best not to dwell on that question.)

“You having fun, Aki?” At some point he must have stopped paying attention to Shinji’s face, because he has to refocus on it, and he finds himself surprised by how intense Shinji’s expression has become despite the light tone of his voice. Akihiko’s throat suddenly feels dry.

“I might be,” he says, slightly hoarsely. “But if you want me to stop, I–” He loses the rest of whatever he’d meant to say, because Shinji has shifted forward and he’s very close. His breath is warm on Akihiko’s face.

“No,” he says. Even though his expression hasn’t lost any of its intensity, his voice has gone quiet and almost breathless. “I don’t.”

And then Shinji leans the rest of the way in and kisses him.

Akihiko's mouth drops open as he gasps and he jerks back in pure startled reflex. Immediately he lurches forward to close the gap again. He seizes a fistful of Shinji's sweater to hold him in place, because he doesn't want Shinji to get the wrong idea and he absolutely doesn't want Shinji to stop kissing him.

The hand in Shinji’s hair tangles itself deeper as Shinji grabs him by the waist, dragging him closer. Akihiko hasn’t got much of an idea what he’s doing, but Shinji sure seems to, and it’s easy enough to follow his lead. Besides, he has always prided himself on being a quick study.

Shinji’s teeth sting his bottom lip and the feeling rockets all the way down his spine. When he nips back experimentally and Shinji hisses into his mouth, the sound jolts along the same path. His stomach swoops like he’s freefalling. Shinji curls a hand around the back of Akihiko’s neck, his thumb digging into the soft hollow behind his ear. It doesn’t quite hurt; Akihiko isn’t sure what he would call the sensation, but it’s– really appealing, whatever it is.

Akihiko is suddenly and distinctly reminded of a fight. Not of being in the ring– this isn’t like that at all– but it’s very much like the kind of bouts that he and Shinji have been having for nearly all their lives.

It’s the same rhythm of push and pull, gaining and ceding ground, trading the upper hand back and forth– but there’s no win condition here, except maybe to keep this going for as long as possible.

And if there’s no way to win, there’s no way to lose either, so it doesn’t so much as scratch his pride for Akihiko to let Shinji move his head around and manhandle him into whatever angle he sees fit without complaint or pushback. There will be (he wants there to be) plenty of opportunities to turn the tables in the future.

It’s not like there’s anything he’d complain about anyway, because– wow, goddamn does Shinji know what he’s doing.

To his surprise, it’s Shinji who ends up tapping out first; though considering the heavy way he’s breathing, maybe Akihiko shouldn’t be all that surprised. At this point Shinji has dragged him nearly into his lap, and he hasn’t released his grip on the back of Akihiko’s neck, although it has softened considerably. Akihiko is more than content to stay right where he is, so he just leans his forehead against Shinji’s and tries to catch his own breath.

Shinji’s lower lip is flushed red and shiny with spit and Akihiko can’t tell if it’s Shinji’s or his own. Or no, it’s probably both of theirs. He would have thought he’d find that kind of gross outside of the heat of the moment, but– he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. The sight makes him feel almost dizzy, and the lowest pit of his stomach clenches in a way that trips along the line between pleasant and uncomfortable.

Is this… normal? Do people normally feel this turned on just from kissing? He has no frame of reference for this.

The image of Mitsuru’s hair fanning over velvet sheets flashes across his mind’s eye and he feels like he might choke for a second.

Alright– mostly no frame of reference. But surely that can’t count considering– well, considering that entire situation.

“Smoke’s comin’ outta your ears, Aki.” Shinji’s voice buzzes against the underside of his jaw in a way that makes Akihiko feel like that statement could easily become very literal. “You’re thinking too much.”

Akihiko laughs. He sounds absolutely punch-drunk. “That’s definitely not something you’ve ever accused me of before.”

Shinji scoffs. Akihiko shivers as it feathers warmly over the skin of his throat. God, he already wants to kiss him again. If this is how it really feels, no exaggeration or bullshit– how does anyone handle it? How is he supposed to get anything done?

“I guess getting you to do any more exercises today is probably a lost cause,” Akihiko says, because the idea of speaking out loud any of the things that he’s actually thinking about (or over-thinking about, according to Shinji) is too mortifying to even consider.

“Yeah, probably.” Shinji sounds downright chipper about it. Asshole.

Well, if they both agree today’s physical therapy session is already beyond saving, then–

Akihiko brackets his hands against Shinji’s jawline and closes the gap between them again. He’ll try not to let either of them get as carried away this time.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Chidori is standing in front of the steps up into Tartarus, just where Fuuka said she’d be, wearing the same white dress as the day he’d first seen her. She almost doesn’t look real, more like a ghost or a fairy– the kind from the old, scary versions of the stories that you didn’t see in Destiny movies.

‘Talk to me’ he says, like she hasn’t refused to say a word to him in weeks. He knows he’s a screwup, just in general, but even he can’t have blown things this badly. There has to be something else going on, something he’s not seeing–

But if there is, she’s not telling. He pleads and pleads with her but it does about as much good as everything else he’s tried to get her to just say something to him again.

An axe whistles through the air close to his ear. He’s pretty good at dodging, but is he that good at dodging, or– maybe, just maybe she had thrown a little wide on purpose?

Chidori still doesn’t say anything. Fuuka and Sanada-san practically beg him to back up and stop trying to get through to her. He almost doesn’t listen, except– they sound just as scared for him as he does for Chidori.

She presses the barrel of her evoker under her chin.

The Persona that appears behind her really is the same one from back in September– the one that tried to strangle her while Junpei could just stand there and watch. If Aragaki-san hadn’t been there it could have killed her, but she still calls its name like she’s seeing an old friend for the first time in forever. He feels like he’s going to be sick, or cry.

They don’t let him fight. Minato and his A-team wall him off from the battle and Aragaki-san says something about helping him watch out for Fuuka, but that might as well be a joke. The only thing Junpei’s paying any attention to is Chidori.

Maybe it’s a good thing they’re keeping him off the front line. Just hearing her like this already hurts just as much as anything her axes or Medea could do. He doesn’t want to think about how bad it would feel if he had to attack her head on– if he could even do it. He probably couldn’t.

At least it doesn’t go on too long– Chidori’s healing is crazy but it’s still seven against one, and her head’s not in the fight. Maybe her heart isn’t, either.

She drops heavily to the ground and finally the others let Junpei past to get to her. He crashes down in front of her and both of his knees are probably going to have some really nasty road rash later, but honestly he can barely even tell that they hurt. He reaches for her– he wants so, so badly just to wrap his arms around her, and hold her, and tell her everything is going to be okay, but…

Right now that’s probably the last thing she wants. But she’s talking now! That’s a good sign, right? Maybe–

She does, but Junpei isn’t sure he gets it. She’s scared– but he’s having a hard time understanding what she’s scared of. She’s so upset and terrified and he doesn’t know how to help–

Fuuka cries out from behind him, sounding frightened, but he can’t take his eyes off Chidori.

And sure enough, there they are: Takaya and Jin, looking like they hadn’t jumped off a bridge just a few weeks ago. What the hell kind of sense does that make? The door to Tartarus closes behind them all dramatic, and the sound echoes loudly through the silence of the Dark Hour.

Takaya doesn’t say anything right away. He glares down at Chidori like he just stepped on a bug, and she’s the gunk left on the bottom of his shoe or something. It makes Junpei’s skin crawl– he can’t look at Chidori like that! Aren’t they supposed to be friends?

Jin and Takaya look surprised to hear Aragaki-san’s voice.

They really didn’t know Aragaki-san was still alive? That means Chidori must not have told them, right? Junpei doesn’t know if that means she just didn’t think about it, or if she purposefully kept it from them, because it’s not like he hadn’t kept her updated about it. Junpei hopes that it’s the latter.

Takaya lets out a single laugh, like they’re just telling jokes and he hadn’t almost killed Aragaki-san less than two months ago. Like anything in this situation could be funny.

The greasy little smirk slides off his face pretty quickly, but the judgy, disappointed look that replaces it isn’t much better.

He even clicks his tongue at her, like he’s a dad telling off a little kid for doing something stupid. Junpei’s blood boils. He rockets back to his feet– his whole body is shaking.

Takaya pulls the gun from his belt. Moonlight flashes off of the metal.

There’s a loud bang, but not actually as loud as Junpei expected. The gunshot he’d heard back in October seemed like it was a lot louder even though it had come from far away.

Who had Takaya even shot, anyway?

Sanada-san had yelled his name, hadn’t he? From where Junpei’s standing, it does kind of look like the gun’s aimed at–?

…

He opens his eyes– they were closed? He’s in a hospital bed, which is weird but not important.

The important part is that Chidori’s here. The sunset coming through the window has her all lit up and golden like an angel, and she’s smiling at him like he hasn’t seen in weeks. He couldn’t care less about anything else.

Especially when she comes right out and says that she wants to be with him. Junpei’s never wanted to hear anything more– he’s got to be dreaming, right? It’s too good to be true. 

But if it is just a dream, he wouldn’t mind staying asleep just a little while longer.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

As the good humor softens, so too does Shinjiro’s expression. His gaze skates off to the side, growing distant. Mitsuru and Akihiko catch one another’s eye. Akihiko leans over and checks Shinjiro lightly with his shoulder.

Shinjiro gestures vaguely in a way that appears to indicate ‘everything,’ which elucidates nothing.

Briefly Akihiko matches his gaze with Mitsuru’s once again, and she has a feeling that their thoughts are closely aligned:

Usually Shinjiro demonstrates far more subtlety when he tries to hide something.

Akihiko folds his arms and scoffs.

Ah, so he does have a timestamp, after all. Akihiko looks a little too stunned to call him out on the lie this time.

He averts his eyes.

The implication hangs heavily in the air. Akihiko seems to decide, wisely in her opinion, against dwelling on it. Mitsuru opts to jump back to a topic that may be slightly less fraught.

Shinjiro glowers down into his lap, his mouth thinning into a tight, sheepish line. Evidentially he’s only now realized what he’d let slip.

He continues to pointedly avoid eye contact with either of them. There is most certainly more that he isn’t saying– Shinjiro’s ability to maintain his trademark opacity truly does seem to have abandoned him this evening. Mitsuru will hold off on probing further into it for the time being. She’s already demanded a great deal of vulnerability from him throughout this conversation.

He sighs, world-weary as always.

His tone is no different than any of the other, numerous times he’s used that nickname to underline his exasperation with her, but…

Context makes all the difference, it seems. And this context has Mitsuru’s heart leaping into her throat, her pulse suddenly rabbit swift.

At some point she had begun to dig a fingernail into the skin of her thumb. Thinking of Shinjiro’s admonishment before the trip, she folds her hands in her lap, thumbs tucked under her palms, to try and quell the restless urge to fidget.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

When Minato returns to the dorm from the shift he’d picked up at Be Blue V, he’s greeted with the lingering scent of fry-oil, golden and appetizing.

The only people in the lounge are Aragaki and Mitsuru, sharing one of the couches, but Minato can hear running water and the gentle clatter of dishes being washed coming from the kitchen. If he had to take a guess, he’d say it’s probably Sanada in there.

They both look up at the sound of Minato’s arrival.

Ryoji was here? Minato is surprised at how forceful his disappointment is at missing the chance to see him. They’d been in the same room all day at school, and they will be again tomorrow, and again for every weekday after that. It isn’t as if they’re going to run out of chances to spend time together.

It’s unnerving to miss someone so bitterly when their separation is only going to last a matter of hours. And it’s very, very unlike him.

But he is not going to unpack that tonight.

Mitsuru sighs.

Minato can feel one brow arching up ever so slightly on its own. It’s ‘Shinjiro’ now, huh? They may not be drawing attention to it, but between that and the way they’re sitting with the minimal amount of space between them to avoid being scandalous, clearly something has changed.

Well, good for them.

Of course, whether this new development improves the situation with their unsubtle– and apparently mostly unpurposeful– flirtation, or actually worsens it, remains to be seen.

Mitsuru delivers a somewhat less than award-worthy performance of exasperation.

Okay, hoping for improvement with regards to the flirting situation was probably a bridge too far, but ‘as bad as ever’ is still technically better than ‘getting worse.’

Although, if this kind of thing carries over into Tartarus if-slash-when Aragaki starts going on expeditions again, Minato thinks he may just let the next Gatekeeper Shadow eat him. He’d welcome the reprieve with open arms. It’s fine.

Minato nods. That had already been his plan. They’re close to the next border floor according to Fuuka, so one more visit should be enough to get them there.

If there’s another roadblock waiting for them there, he has no idea how they’ll handle it without a lock to pick in the form of another Big Shadow.

They’ll climb over that gate when they get to it, he supposes.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

It’s honestly refreshing to have someone lay out all of Shinji’s good qualities. Akihiko had already known that Mitsuru gets it, that she understands Shinji, but god does it feel good to hear it said in true Mitsuru Kirijo style: elegantly stated and thoroughly cited.

For Mitsuru, specifically, to be the one presenting the evidence is also a good thing. If Akihiko had tried making the exact same points, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Shinji would refuse on principle to accept a single word of it.

And maybe it’s also nice to see Shinji be the one getting flustered for once. He rarely ever shows that side of himself, even to Akihiko. It’s been that way since they were kids.

The whole conversation so far has only been round one, though, hasn’t it? They already have another challenge waiting for them.

“So, we’ve, ah–” Akihiko clears his throat. Slowly, Shinji thumbs the edge of his hat up to uncover one eye. He and Mitsuru both peer curiously at him, and Akihiko quails under their attention even though he’d literally just asked for it. “So with that all hashed out… What do we do now? I mean– Do we just– ah–”

His face feels scorched. Is this really so difficult or is he just that bad at it? He knows what he wants to say, so why can’t he actually say it? “Just– start, um–”

Shinji laughs, because he’s an asshole (and god, Akihiko really is beyond help, because the thought is tinged with as much fondness as it is irritation). As if Shinji has any room to talk anyway, when getting nice things said about him was all it took to make him run and hide behind his hat.

“Pretty sure the word you’re lookin’ for is ‘dating’, Aki.”

“I– Yes, thank you, Shinji. I was getting there.“

He’d been hoping that once the question had actually been asked out loud (mostly out loud), it would feel easier.

It does not feel any easier.

He’s out of his depth here. Despite his ‘fans’ and all of the interest they supposedly have in him, he’s never even been on a date before, let alone had any experience with dating as a continuous, ongoing state of being. Other people make this seem so easy– to hear some of his boxing teammates talk, they navigate this obstacle course more than once per school year. How?

Shinji laughs again. Akihiko is half tempted to punch him, but the closest shoulder is the bad one, so that’s not happening. Then the laugh trails off into something warmer, softer, maybe even a little shy, and that impulse to slug him fades away entirely.

“I mean. If you’re really serious, then– I’m not gonna say no,” Shinji says. The look on his face is complicated and hard to put a name to. Something between a soft smile and almost a grimace.

It’s relief, maybe. And if Shinji’s really been wanting this at least since they were fifteen (how on earth had Akihiko never noticed?), then– relief would make sense.

“Yeah, of course I’m serious,” Akihiko nods. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”

They both turn to look at Mitsuru just in time to catch some kind of realization darken her gaze. Her summery smile wilts. Her mouth flattens into a tense line and she closes her eyes as though against pain– worse than pained, she looks guilty, somehow.

Something ices over in Akihiko’s stomach.

“Mitsuru?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Why would she think she needs to apologize to them? The chill slithers up into Akihiko’s chest and his heart spasms against it. “Nothing would make me happier, truly. But…”

Mitsuru trails off, as if searching for the correct words.

“But…?” Shinji urges quietly, leaning forward to prop his elbows against his knees. He’s using the same gentle cadence as he does with Yamagishi, and under nearly any other circumstance Akihiko would laugh about Shinji proving his and Mitsuru’s point so easily.

He’s never felt less like laughing. The sudden, careening nosedive the mood has taken leaves him nauseated.

“I’m afraid I may have gotten ahead of myself. I was so swept up in– in the excitement of it all, that I allowed a rather critical complication to slip my mind.”

Akihiko’s head bobs forward; it feels more like his body deciding to move on its own than him telling it to do so. Shinji nods too, prompting silently for Mitsuru to continue.

“Do you recall when I told you about– about my engagement?”

…Oh.

Akihiko does remember, now that she mentions it.

It had been during their first year, not long after the end of summer vacation. Mitsuru had come back to the dorms one afternoon after attending a business luncheon with her father, clearly off balance. By that time, he and Shinji both had become pretty adept at picking up when something was bothering her even when she made her best effort to hide it, and that day had been far from her best effort.

It had taken a lot of coercing (and a little bullying from Shinji) to finally get her to spill about what was wrong, but eventually she had confessed:

A match had been arranged for her with the scion of another powerful company, one of the Kirijo Group’s corporate allies. The luncheon had served as an introduction between her and her new fiancé.

Both he and Shinji had been aghast and incredulous about the whole thing, especially since by Akihiko’s recollection, this fiancé of Mitsuru’s is quite a bit older than her. Shinji’s view on the issue had been especially belligerent (Did he already have feelings for Mitsuru by that point? For Akihiko…?), but Mitsuru had eventually talked them into letting it drop. This kind of thing wasn’t unusual for families like hers, she’d said, and she had assured them again and again that she wasn’t upset, just caught off guard.

Shinji fidgets in his seat. He looks serious and somber rather than outraged like back then. “You ain’t married yet though, are you? Not for a while.”

“That was originally the case, but…” Mitsuru lowers her gaze. “The Kirijo Group is in a rather precarious position after my father’s passing, and it’s been decided that it would be in the company’s best interest to accelerate the timeline, somewhat. With regards to the– marriage.“

She bites the last word out like it tastes sour. Akihiko wants nothing more than to go over to her and hold her tightly, and to hell with manners, but he stays rooted in place. 

“Accelerated it–” He swallows nervously. “By how much?” 

“An exact date hasn’t been chosen as of yet, but the plan is for the wedding to take place soon after graduation. Within that same month, most likely.” 

Shinji and Akihiko share a look, equally shocked. That’s so soon. That’s too soon. Forget anything to do with the two of them, Mitsuru won’t even have had the chance to live like a proper adult yet…

Would she still get the chance to attend university? To study abroad like she’s always wanted? What would it mean for her role in S.E.E.S. if they still haven’t gotten rid of the Dark Hour by then?

“I’m sorry.” Mitsuru lowers herself into an apologetic bow over her hands clasped in her lap, rendering the both of them speechless. “I realize now how terribly selfish it was of me to  say all of this. I’m grateful that we had the chance to speak openly, but it was never my intent to– to bait you with the prospect of–”

Akihiko doubts she’s able to actually catch any of the individual words from his and Shinji’s overlapping protests, but she seems to get the gist at least. She sits up, looking mollified.

“Perhaps that was rather dramatic of me,” she murmurs, looking off to the side. “I suppose the truth is that– I feel as though I baited myself with the idea. I forgot myself, for a moment.”

Akihiko’s limbs finally seem ready to obey him again.

“Mitsuru, hey–” he says, reaching out one hand towards her. “Come over here, sit with us.”

For a moment she simply stares at him. Horror begins to creep up the back of his neck– that was way too forward, it had to be– but it’s quelled when she stands and crosses around the table. He and Shinji both shift a little to give her room to settle between them.

After a brief hesitation, Akihiko carefully (carefully) wraps an arm around her shoulders. To hell with manners, right? She’s trembling slightly, he realizes, but some of that tension drops away almost the instant he touches her.

Shinji seems to be having a hard time deciding what to do with himself (or maybe what he’s allowed to). Eventually he settles on lightly resting the back of his hand against her upper arm, which in Akihiko’s opinion is maybe one of the weirder, more awkward options he could have gone with. He’ll have to remind himself to laugh at Shinji later. Now’s not the time, though, because Mitsuru has started speaking again.

“I couldn’t be…faithful to you both. Any relationship with me would come with a predetermined expiration date. Neither of you deserve that, so, in that regard–” She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders under Akihiko’s arm. “I think it would be for the best if the two of you just–”

“I don’t wanna hear you say we should just leave you out of it,” Shinji cuts her off, quietly but quick as lightning. Thank god, honestly, because Akihiko isn’t sure if he could have gotten his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth in time.

“Maybe whatever this is can’t be forever, sure. But if that’s your reason to stay out of this, then I shouldn’t be a part of it either.” Shinji continues. “After all, we still don’t know how long I’m even gonna be here.”

“Shinji–”

Akihiko speaks before he even has a chance to think about it, and Mitsuru does at the same moment, their voices overlapping.

”Aragaki…”

"I’m not goin’ anywhere if I've got any say in it.” Shinji makes a placating sort of gesture with the hand that’s not still touching Mitsuru’s arm. “I can promise that at least. I'm just sayin’ it still might not be up to me.”

That’s… that is true. As much as Akihiko hates that Shinji brought it up to begin with, he hates even more that Shinji is completely correct.

“But I know that neither of you’d ever let me even try that argument, so I’m not lettin’ you get away with it either, Kirijo.”

He really wasn’t expecting something like that from Shinji, and clearly Mitsuru wasn’t either. She looks stunned.

“He’s got a point, Mitsuru,” Akihiko urges, hope blooming in his chest again. “Maybe the future isn’t certain, but if that’s a reason for Shinji to go for it, then it can't be a reason for you not to. Right?”

Slowly, her gaze becomes chastened, then contemplative, and then–

Then she smiles again.

“Yes…” Closing her eyes, she tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. I– I can’t let this hold me back either. I won’t. I want to have this with you both, more than anything. Temporary or not.”

“Glad you’re listenin’ to sense.” Shinji’s clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but color has flushed back into his ears at Mitsuru’s proclamation. Honestly, hearing her say it so openly also has Akihiko’s head swimming with restless heat.

“But really…” Shinji trails off, then turns his attention to Akihiko. Akihiko blinks back in confusion. “You’re the only one out of us without something hangin’ over your head about this. We oughta be asking you if you’re sure you’re okay with that more than anything.”

Akihiko remains silent for a moment while he mulls over Shinji’s words. He’s really not used to being the somewhat ‘normal’ one in any group, even one as weird as his circle of friends. It seems insane to him– the fact that he doesn’t have any kind of illness or arranged marriage looming threateningly over his shoulder somehow increases the pressure on his decision.

But even knowing that there’s a time limit on this– this relationship, Akihiko feels more and more confident by the moment about what the right thing to do is.

They all want this, after all. They all know how it feels to nearly lose something vital because uncertainty made them hesitate.

But how does he say any of that?

How did they do it, seriously? If they’re experiencing anything even close to the absolute maelstrom that’s got Akihiko’s brain spinning in his skull, how did they ever manage to make something coherent out of it? He feels like he’s taking a test he hasn’t even tried studying for.

Akihiko takes a deep breath, leans forward on his knees, and lets the words come spilling out. 

“...I'm– I've been stuck, for a long time, in this loop thinking 'if I had only done more' or 'if I had only worked harder' or 'if I'd only been better', then maybe I wouldn't have lost someone that mattered to me. 

“But I've been getting a lot of second chances lately. I think I'd have to be an idiot to turn away from one of those chances because I'm afraid of what might go wrong, when I was…when I was lucky enough to get it at all."

He’s not sure where all that came from, but he hopes at least that he got his point across.“Akihiko…” Mitsuru murmurs. He lets his eyes dart up to meet hers only briefly. The expression on her face, and on Shinji’s for that matter, is too– just too much (hopeful, wounded, soothed, touched, warm...) for him to look at for longer than a moment.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

The arrival of the Dark Hour cuts short Minato’s project of curating the spoils from his latest pilgrimage through YuzuWire. For the better part of the evening he’s been sitting curled like a shrimp over his desk, sorting through a slew of new music files: converting, re-titling, organizing, and weighing which ones he likes enough to take up coveted space on his mp3 player.

It’s been slow going. His laptop is being temperamental again, going through fits where it drags its feet like a cranky toddler. He’ll have to ask Fuuka to ghost-bust it again, probably.

He leans back in his chair and stretches the kinks out of his spine, contemplating how best to thank-slash-apologize-to her for all the digital exorcisms he’s asked her to perform. It startles him so badly when her voice chimes in his ear from nowhere that he nearly goes toppling to the floor.

She’d said ‘right away’ but Minato takes a minute to throw on his gear– a frantic summons like that couldn’t mean anything except a situation where they’ll have to fight. Apparently, everyone else has the same idea: Junpei and Amada have their armor and weapons on them as they join Minato in the hall, and so do Yukari and Aigis when they meet up with them on the third floor landing.

Mitsuru, Sanada, and Aragaki are waiting for them in the command room alongside Fuuka. With the exception of Aragaki, they’re also already dressed for battle.

Mitsuru fills them in: Fuuka can sense the presence of a Persona user loitering just outside of Tartarus.

Everyone seems to be on the same page about what that means more or less immediately, as well. Sanada nods in grim confirmation.

There’s a very long pause, as though Fuuka desperately wants to avoid saying whatever comes next. Minato nearly forgets to breathe in anticipation.

The surprise on Mitsuru’s face is almost comparable to Junpei’s. Surprise, and outrage, because if Fuuka means who Minato is pretty sure she means, then she’s definitely supposed to still be in the hospital. Unless she suddenly manifested the ability to teleport, then either nobody responsible for her had deigned to inform Mitsuru of her escape, or they hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice it in the first place. Both options are… incredibly bad.

Fuuka yelps and cringes in on herself, scrabbling at her scalp and knocking her headset askew.

Aragaki springs forward without a moment’s hesitation, one palm pressed flat to Juno’s bubble and the other curled into a fist against the glass like he fully intends on trying to break her out by force if it comes to that.

Chidori’s voice chimes clear and cold in the still air– real, actual sound rather than being transmitted into their heads through their Personas. It isn’t particularly loud, but its intrusion is so sudden and uncanny that Minato’s ears are left ringing anyway.

Chidori’s voice fades, and the silence she leaves behind is hollow and awful. Minato doesn’t dare turn to look at Junpei.

At least Fuuka seems to be bouncing back quickly from whatever Chidori had done to her in order to speak to them.

With Yukari’s frantic questions and Junpei’s furious, helpless confusion rising to a full-blown clamor, Fuuka lets Juno dissolve around her, shuddering once like she’s throwing off a sudden chill. Aragaki has his hands reached forward to either side of her shoulders, ready to catch her just in case, but he turns out not to need to. Fuuka offers a warm, appreciative smile and Aragaki nods back before both of their attentions are drawn by the sound of the command room doors slamming open as Junpei pelts through them.

They’ll be walking directly into a trap– there’s no way this could be anything else. Mitsuru sees it too; she says as much at almost the same instant Minato has the thought. But what other choice do they have?

Sanada and Mitsuru both look like they have some objections that they aren’t voicing, but Minato suspects that the point they want to argue on is less about Aragaki appointing himself as Fuuka’s bodyguard and more about the fact that Aragaki thinks he has something to make up for.

There’s no time for that now, though. If they want to take him to task about it, they’ll have to do so later.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

And of course he can count on Shinji to ruin the moment. Really, why would he expect anything else?

The sound of Mitsuru laughing, soft but clear and light as air, cuts through their bickering before it can even really get started, as cleanly as a slice from her saber.

Her voice is warm and rich and agonizingly fond. Her eyes are so, so soft.

Akihiko suddenly feels short of breath. Shinji looks almost dizzy.

What was it he and Shinji were getting ready to pick a fight over just now?

Mitsuru hides more laughter behind her hand. Akihiko’s face floods with heat again, but somehow he can’t bring himself to mind all that much.

Briefly he wonders if that would count as their first or second date. Maybe their tour of Nijo Castle on Wednesday was a date after all– can something count as a date retroactively?

He knows better than to ask. He’d never live that kind of question down.

Akihiko’s mood has already been steadily getting more and more buoyant, and the prospect of Shinji’s cooking on top of it all makes him feel like he might float right out of his shoes.

At the same time, though, he can’t quite help himself–

Akihiko’s never been drunk, but this must be what it feels like, right? His head is cloudy, fizzy; his thoughts dart around too fast for him to catch; his joints feel loose and his chest is full of a pleasant warmth. He half wonders if he’ll be able to manage the stairs.

Well, if it turns out that his coordination really is shot, then at least he knows he can rely on Shinji and Mitsuru to catch him.

He stands, offering an assisting hand to Mitsuru and helping Shinji to lever himself onto his feet as well.

No one remarks on it, but as they head downstairs there’s less space between them than usual.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

It wasn’t that he had expected to be bored or not to enjoy himself, but Minato is still surprised by just how much fun he’s had today. Exploring the city with Ryoji and Junpei had felt like an adventure, especially with Ryoji’s unbridled excitement about nearly everything the day had to offer.

Maybe some of Ryoji’s enthusiasm could use a bridle now and again– Junpei’s nerves probably could have done without The Balcony Incident– but honestly there’s something Minato kind of admires about that foolhardy streak. He’s been called fearless himself before, but if that was ever true about him, those guts had come from a place of… numbness.

Ryoji’s moxie, on the other hand, seems to come from one of joy. It’s nice to be around.

Minato’s phone buzzes– speaking of Ryoji, he’s asked Minato to come see him on the second floor. He heads towards the stairs to meet up, Junpei trailing behind, only to stop short when he catches sight of Aragaki.

He stands in the shadow of the staircase, apparently trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, and plucks at the sleeve of the yukata he’s wearing– because he is in fact wearing one. Maybe not entirely correctly– his belt is slightly crooked and the neckline flops a bit loosely– but still.

Aragaki. Is wearing a yukata.

Unlike Junpei, he’s also foregone his hat, and is instead keeping his hair out of the way with a tie.

Aragaki runs a hand over his hair like he’s hoping to find the characteristic beanie had spontaneously manifested itself back onto his head.

A group of second-year girls walk past, headed for the courtyard. Minato recognizes one of them from his class, and another from the trio that’s taken to lingering around the staircase to the school rooftop. They stop short for a moment when they catch sight of Aragaki, then burst into a flutter of whispers and smothered giggling as they scurry on their way.

Junpei whistles, deeply impressed. Aragaki looks like he’d like to crawl into the wallpaper.

Come to think of it, hadn’t he heard from one of his classmates that a bunch of girls had been praying at a shrine in an effort to win Sanada’s attention? He wonders if some of them might have been vying for Aragaki, instead. Or too.

He absolutely knows better than to voice that speculation out loud, though.

Sanada appears as if on cue, or maybe as if Aragaki had summoned him like a Persona.

Sanada chuckles and shakes his head, his good humor not ebbing in the slightest, and walks right up to Aragaki to adjust the yukata. He starts with the front panel, tugging it down and over a little more so that it lays flat, then goes about straightening the collar. Aragaki glowers ferociously at a point somewhere above Sanada’s head, but otherwise he more or less submits to being fussed over.

Aragaki’s scowl deepens and he flicks Sanada’s forehead with a cartoonishly loud thok sound. But he doesn’t escalate when Sanada bats his hand away, and he doesn’t make any more of an effort to escape.

Sanada takes a step back, apparently satisfied that Aragaki is presentable.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

The kitchen really isn’t big enough for three people, and usually Shinjiro won’t tolerate having someone underfoot at all unless he’s playing teacher.

He doesn’t mind being crowded so much right now, though. Maybe it’s even kind of nice.

Nice in an incredibly weird and surreal way. He’s still not sure how to wrap his head around it.

Aki’d been right though, when he’d given his little speech upstairs. After everything the three of them have been put through together, turning his nose up at this chance wouldn’t just be stupid, it’d be downright ungrateful.

And to be honest, he’s tired of pushing them away. It’s not like it ever worked out the way he’d meant it to anyway, no matter how many times he’d tried it. Despite all his efforts to convince them to give up, they’re still reaching out to him– this time he’ll try reaching back.

Aki sticks his nose over Shinjiro’s shoulder like he’s never seen a pan of hot oil before. Shinjiro hip-checks him out of the way and tells him off for being a pest, but there’s no bite to it. Aki’s all smiles and zero signs of remorse.

There is no good goddamn reason why hearing that should make him feel like he’s just knocked back something high-proof and fiery, but here he is.

…Of course that was why she’d jumped straight back to ‘Aragaki’.

He’s spent so much time and energy overthinking the switch, and with just three half-finished sentences she’s dissolved all of that stress into something fluttering and soft.

Because of course she’d been playing some weird mental chess game with herself about manners. She practically makes a hobby of that– he can’t believe he didn’t pick up on it.

It’s unfairly cute for something that he’s been giving himself an ulcer about for nearly a week.

Goddammit, there really isn’t another way to put it. She’s adorable.

And he’s absolutely hopeless.

Mitsuru pouts for a half-second, although only someone with even less good sense than Shinjiro would dare to call it that. Before he can blink she’s back in full heiress mode, regal and serene.

…Okay. Alright. He really should have seen that coming, and it really shouldn’t have been enough to knock him flat on his ass.

But he didn’t, and it was.So yeah, he is absolutely fucking hopeless.

Aki doesn’t bother to pretend that he’s coughing into his fist instead of laughing, but it’s the sheer fondness in the sound that gets to Shinjiro more than the fact that it’s at his expense.

Shinjiro beats the eggs for the breading with maybe a bit more force than he really needs to. The tips of his ears feel like he’s dunked them into the frying pan.

They don’t, technically speaking, stop distracting him, because just being around them has gotten him at least a little bit distracted for years now. It’s not so bad though, having the two of them talking and laughing close by, or occasionally brushing elbows. And it’s not terrible for his ego, either– how Aki repeatedly hypes up the katsudon and the way Mitsuru (Mitsuru) keeps making these small, impressed sounds like he’s putting on some kind of celebrity-chef performance.

It would be scarily easy to get used to this. The cynical part of him says that he really shouldn’t, because it’d be just as scarily easy to lose it– and it’s not as if that’s actually wrong. It’s not as if he’s forgotten.

But that’s exactly why he ought to really bask in every moment he does get, isn’t it? He should have figured that out ages ago, so there’s a lot of lost time to make up for.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Shinjiro’s gaze snaps up to meet hers, astonishment apparently overriding shyness.

“The–” His voice stumbles over itself. “You–”

It’s rare for him to be at a loss for words, and Mitsuru doesn’t believe she’s ever seen him so openly thunderstruck. Something about it makes her… uncomfortable. Perhaps even upset– not on her own behalf, but his.

“It–” Shinjiro clears his throat. “Is it?”

“That comes as a surprise?”

“I mean… Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck uneasily, looking away from her again. “I could kinda guess that Aki felt that way, but I didn’t think– I had no idea about you.”

“Wait, what gave ME away?” Akihiko cuts in before she’s able to find the words or the composure to respond to Shinjiro’s unfinished presupposition.

Shinjiro blinks several times at Akihiko, then fixes him with a flat stare. Mitsuru gets the impression that he’s trying to look irritated, but he comes across as utterly bewildered, instead.

“....Aki, you literally almost kissed me that day in the hospital.”

Well, that’s certainly news to her. What day would that have been, she wonders? The same day as their shared second-awakenings, perhaps?

Faint pink blooms on Akihiko’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose almost immediately. The color slowly deepens across a series of indiscernible expressions, rose darkening to ruby.

She isn’t without sympathy for his embarrassment, but– it is a very endearing sight. One that more than makes up for the shock of only just now learning of this incident, in her opinion.

“O-oh,” Akihiko finally manages. “Right.”

“Did you forget?”

“NO.” Akihiko briefly squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he aims his gaze at the ceiling. “I just– I– kinda hoped you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Shinjiro snorts. “You weren’t exactly being subtle, Aki.”

Akihiko groans and covers his face, now claret-red, with his hands. Subtlety never has been his forte, and thankfully he seems to know better than to try and deny it.

“You didn’t say anything,” he wheezes, muffled.

“I mean, I was kinda high on painkillers at the time,” Shinjiro shrugs, either unbothered by Akihiko’s fall to indignity or, perhaps more likely, simply relieved that the spotlight has been redirected. “Couldn’t be sure if I was seein’ things that weren’t really there.”

“Well…” Akihiko’s hands are still tented in front of his eyes, but they no longer dampen his voice. “I guess now you can be sure you weren’t.”

“Guess so,” Shinjiro quietly agrees. “Glad to know it.”

“I didn’t– I mean, I– I hadn’t ever realized it until then.” Akihiko’s voice has gone soft and careful, like the admission is made of porcelain, fine to the point of translucency. “At least not in a way that stuck.”

“Yeah?” There’s an arch to the word, but it’s too gentle to be quite teasing.

After humming in affirmation Akihiko is quiet for a moment, and then:

“Shinji,” he says in that same delicate tone. “What Mitsuru said– Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

There’s a particular weight to the question, a history behind it, as though Akihiko is picking back up the thread of a conversation that Mitsuru had not been present for.

“I can’t say that I understand, either,” she says.

Shinjiro remains silent long enough that Mitsuru begins to think he has no intention of responding.

Finally, though, he does. “I don’t see why you would.”

For several moments all Mitsuru can do is stare at him, bogged down by confusion and more than a little dismay. Has she truly not made herself clear enough?

Then she remembers that she’s talking to Shinjiro Aragaki, whose allergy to being held in high esteem she has long been aware of and whose position as the most thick-headed person she’s ever met is rivaled only by the one sitting next to him.

Mitsuru thinks for a moment on how best to exemplify before settling on:

“You made me tea.”

Akihiko nods– he understands her perfectly. Shinjiro, however, clearly does not. His eyes dart around, and he shifts uncertainly.

“...I’m– I am… gonna need you to elaborate on that.”

Of course he would. Mitsuru shakes her head slightly, a warm spark of amusement glowing in her chest. She doesn’t mind spelling it out.

“You went to the trouble for no other reason than to be kind–” As she says this, Shinjiro fidgets again, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. She can practically hear him protest that the gesture wasn’t big enough to count as going to any kind of trouble; he seems to be aware of it, and doesn’t try to speak that point aloud.

“You claimed to lack expertise with tea, but the cup was perfect– you put forth the effort to ensure that it was. You took the time to prepare it how I would, even though by your reckoning I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I mean. I coulda been lyin’ about that.”

“You could have been,” Mitsuru concedes. “But you weren’t.”

Shinjiro does not contradict her.

“You do things like that all the time,” she continues. “Even if you were to claim that each gesture was too small to mean much on its own, the pattern inarguably does.”

Mitsuru speaks on every instance she can remember:

He kept the entire dorm well fed in the aftermath of the last full moon. He had made sure that a good meal was waiting for her when she’d returned home, after the longest and most exhausting week she could ever remember having.

“He sure did do that,” Akihiko cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Even though he was supposed to be resting.”

“I already told you, I was gonna go stir crazy if I just kept sittin’ around.”

Mitsuru laughs softly and keeps going. He’d gone out of his way to make rice porridge for their leader when he had fallen ill during the typhoon. He’d done the same for Mitsuru and Akihiko as well, back when it was only the three of them in the dorm. And in Mitsuru’s case, it was before the initial animosity between them had fully cooled.

"And speaking of the typhoon, you also valiantly faced the beast in the attic for our sake."

Shinjiro groans. "Don't go bringin' that up."

She laughs softly. She’s tempted to prod further about him being unable to handle a bit of teasing when he’s so fond of doling it out, just to see how he might react, but instead she moves on.

“I know you’ve been making an effort to spend time with Amada. I’ve seen you studying together, or helping him with his homework–” Shinjiro mumbles something at a barely discernible volume about Amada being too sharp to really need his help, but does not properly interrupt her.

“Yukari told me that she’d seen you and Akihiko watching a movie with Amada the night before we left for Kyoto, as well.” Despite everything that’s happened, he’s still going out of his way to make things right between them.

“You change the way you speak when you talk with Yamagishi. You soften your voice around her.”

Akihiko chuckles behind his fist. “Even I noticed that.”

“Shut up, Aki.” 

And then, of course, there was their first encounter with the Reaper, and everything Shinjiro had done for them during and after.

“Okay.”

She contemplates her hands where they lay folded in her lap. There are dozens of other moments she could cite; examples of his kindness, his ferocious loyalty, his warmth. Which should she choose as her closing argument?

Ultimately, she decides to bring things full circle, and return to her initial thesis.

“You remembered which tea blend I like best. In all the time it’s been since we’d ever spoken on the subject of tea, you still remembered something so small, and– it meant a great deal to me. That attentiveness–”

“Okay.”

Mitsuru looks up, startled. Had she said something wrong? 

No, perhaps she hadn’t, if the scene in front of her is anything to go by.

Akihiko presses his knuckles against his mouth, presumably to stop himself from laughing. Shinjiro has pulled the edge of his hat down so low over his face that practically only his jawline is still visible. His ears are vibrantly, nearly incandescently red– and how on earth had she never noticed that charming little detail before?

“Please, just– just stop. I get it, alright?”

“Very well,” Mitsuru says. Her voice wobbles slightly– she is fighting valiantly to suppress her own laughter and is only barely managing. “I believe I’ve made my point clearly enough.”

What a treasure of a discovery: that the self-serious, implacable Shinjiro Aragaki can be brought to a state one might easily call ‘adorable.’

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Akihiko may have made a horrible mistake.

He honestly hadn’t named the terms of the bet with any sort of… unsavory motive in mind. Shinji had just been so against the idea of putting on a yukata that Akihiko could think of no funnier penalty for losing such a stupid wager.

And in his defense, he was right about that. Watching Shinji sulk about it is more than a little bit hilarious. But Akihiko also finds himself faced with an unforeseen problem–

Namely, that it turns out Shinji wears a yukata really, really well. Unfairly well, in a way that makes it difficult to pay attention to anything else.

Listening to the guys in his class hype themselves up over the idea of girls in yukata, even just the simple ones provided by the hotel, Akihiko had written it off as dumb exaggeration and posturing– just more of the same old hot air. They saw these girls six days a week at school, could the prospect of seeing them in a different outfit than usual really be worth all that excitement?

It absolutely could, as it turns out. It’s ridiculous, and criminal, and even a little infuriating how good Shinji looks. How the hell is he supposed to deal with this?

He thinks back to the night Shinji had fallen asleep on his lap, and how he’d mused that Shinji wouldn’t look out of place in the pages of Miki’s old storybooks.

He’d had no idea just how right he was, and now the living, breathing proof of it is driving him to distraction. And there’s no one to blame for it but himself, either. Actions have consequences, and his seem to be downright gleeful about the opportunity to come back around and bite him.

Adjusting the yukata had been as much of a bid to preserve his own sanity as a chance to annoy Shinji. Just the fact that he needed to is maddening. Why should it matter to him how much of Shinji’s collar bone is on display? What reason could he possibly have to suddenly find the geography of his sternum so fascinating?

It’s not even as though he hasn’t seen Shinji without a shirt on before. He’s seen that incredibly recently even, and it hadn’t affected him this way. He’d remained perfectly capable of stringing together thoughts other than–

Well.

Other than the kind he’s been dwelling on this evening. Apparently, literally being unable to avoid thinking about that sort of thing wasn’t just locker-room nonsense, either.

(Who is he trying to fool within the sanctity of his own head, he wonders? He’d already known that– he’s known it since July. But at least back then there had been… mitigating circumstances. Mitigating circumstances that he will not allow himself to think about or remember, because maintaining his composure is enough of a struggle as it is.)

It’s not like he can go back on the terms of the bet, either– not at this point. If he tried, there’s not a doubt in his mind that Shinji would continue to wear the yukata just to spite him. Not only that, but it would raise far too many questions that Akihiko absolutely cannot and will not answer.

So his only option is to suck it up and deal with it. It will be fine. He’s dealt with far worse things than embarrassment. He just has to make it through two more days (not even two full days!) and then he won’t have to think about it anymore.

He’s spiraled so far into his internal labyrinth that the nudge to his side feels like walking face-first into a brick wall. He’s too surprised to even jump, instead just blinking owlishly over at Shinji.

When he seems sure he’s caught Akihiko’s eye (little does he know), Shinji inclines his head towards the window that looks out on the courtyard. Akihiko follows the line of his gaze, wondering exactly what he’s getting at.

Mitsuru and Takeba (not a pair he would have expected to see) are chatting together on the lawn. There’s a brief moment where Akihiko’s thoughts turn into radio static and he feels on the verge of short-circuiting, because Mitsuru also looks wonderful in a yukata, and he just can’t catch a break tonight, can he–?

And then he registers that Mitsuru is smiling, is laughing at something Takeba just said– and god, that’s wonderful to see, too.

“What do you think happened there?” Shinji asks.

“I…” Akihiko can’t even begin to speculate. “No idea, but… she looks happy.”

Both of them do– far happier than he’s seen either of them look in quite some time.

“Yeah.” There’s a subtle smile on Shinji’s face too. He can’t hide his relief, or he’s not even trying to. He looks the way Akihiko feels– his expression warm and open, softening his features. “I dunno what Takeba did, but I feel like I oughta thank her.” 

“Same here.”

It’s odd, finding himself so grateful toward Takeba. The hostility she’d harbored against Mitsuru has ebbed quite a bit since July, especially since the night Mitsuru had lost her father; but truth be told Akihiko has still been holding onto his own bitterness about the stunt Takeba had pulled just before their trip to Yakushima. Calling Mitsuru out in front of everyone, putting her guilt on display like that–

But if Takeba’s really managed to help lift Mitsuru out of her sorrow, Akihiko thinks he could forgive her for just about anything.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Mitsuru perches on one of the cushioned stools in the command room with her hands clasped primly together on her knees. Shinjiro and Akihiko sit across from her on the couch.

Earlier she had sent them each a message requesting that they meet her here after classes were finished for the day. It would be best to talk about what had happened in Kyoto sooner rather than later, after all.

They had arrived promptly, but thus far none of them have said a word.

Mitsuru is hardly surprised to find herself so tongue-tied. She has been all day– truth be told, she’d had the invitation carefully composed before the first bell had rung, but it was well past midday before she could work up the nerve to send it.

Her initial instinct is to scold herself for her hesitation– why should she be so anxious over the idea of having a conversation with her first and oldest friends? That self-critical impulse is irrational, she knows this. She is well aware of how much is at stake for all of them.

Based on how, and how strongly, Akihiko and Shinjiro had reacted to Mochizuki’s speculation, it’s undeniably clear that there’s something here, between the three of them. They wouldn’t have looked so embarrassed if there wasn’t a grain of truth to it. But to actually name the beast–

It is an… intimidating prospect, to say the very least. It shouldn’t be, not after everything she’s faced, or that they’ve faced together.

The catalogue of things they have faced together, however, rather notably does not include matters of the heart. She’s at a loss at how to even begin.

All she can say for certain, is that her approach thus far has been agonizingly incorrect. The atmosphere she’s created feels more like a particularly grim business meeting than a frank and open discussion of emotions between friends.

She entertains the thought of retreat. They could limit this conversation to merely acknowledging the elephant in the room, and then agree to decide what they actually wish to do with it at a later date. Rarely, if ever, has she been so tempted to indulge in cowardice. Perhaps her future self will be braver…

Shinjiro, with a barely discernible grimace, rolls and adjusts one shoulder– his bad one. The one bearing record of the wound that had come so close to killing him.

It is far, far too late for that, but–

Shinjiro laughs once, very softly. Mitsuru is too bewildered to be even slightly offended.

He nudges Akihiko with his elbow, perhaps a tad more forcefully than necessary. Normally this would serve as a thrown-down gauntlet and lead directly into a fight, but today Akihiko merely laughs.

Akihiko rubs sheepishly at his bicep, looking down at his other hand as it fidgets in his lap.

Mitsuru delicately clears her throat. Even though the situation hadn’t been allowed to become entirely unchaste, and even if Akihiko had relayed it in a minimally lurid manner– the thought of him speaking of it aloud makes heat sting under her skin. The fact that he had only disclosed it to Shinjiro does nothing to make her feel less embarrassed– indeed, it may actually heighten her mortification.

…She does recall that Akihiko had shown a particular uptick in enthusiasm for his morning jogs– and afternoon jogs, and evening logs– throughout the month of July. She also remembers the behavior's occasional brief resurgences in August and– as a matter of fact– early September, right after Shinjiro had returned to the team. How foolish of her to not make the connection.

Then again, her own state of mind immediately after the incident had also been rather… preoccupied. Perhaps it’s no surprise at all, in that light.

Shinjiro slides his gaze over the meet hers momentarily. Despite her simmering nerves, Mitsuru cannot help but smile.

Akihiko actually looks a little taken aback. She may not know exactly what Shinjiro is referring to, but it’s certainly having an effect on the intended target.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Minato has a bad habit.

…Minato has a number of bad habits, but there’s one in particular that’s relevant to the current predicament and that he really ought to work on, because things like this happen more often than he’d like to admit.

‘Things like this’ meaning that Minato will find himself apparently possessed by the ghost of an anthropologist, which compels him into allowing bad situations to become worse while he passively observes.

Junpei and Ryoji had almost certainly been doing A Bit about the possibility of girls coming out to bathe this late at night, unaware of their group’s presence.

Unfortunately, they had also been tempting fate– with all the manga Junpei reads, he really ought to have known that joking like that made it basically inevitable for a group of girls to actually appear. And to truly maximize the hubris/disaster ratio, of course it would be nothing less than this specific group of girls: one for whom they’re all– with the exception of Ryoji– fully aware of the combat capabilities they possess.

Junpei had started panicking immediately, while Ryoji hadn’t seemed to grasp the severity of the situation right away. Sanada had only been irritated at first, but upon hearing Mitsuru’s voice he’d become as alarmed as Junpei. Aragaki–

Aragaki might be sleeping through the whole crisis, actually. As soon as they had settled into the water he had immediately propped himself up against one of the taller rock formations and tugged his hat over his eyes, and he hasn’t said a word since. Minato had thought he was only pretending to doze off as a pretense to avoid participating in any conversation, but now he isn’t so sure.

And Minato himself, for reasons his own mind has not seen fit to illuminate, continues to sit back and allow the spirit of academic curiosity to say ‘well, let’s see where they’re going with this.’

Junpei and Ryoji look desperately to Sanada for guidance. Sanada lays out the goal of tonight’s operation: make their escape without being seen.

Aragaki suddenly lets out an explosively judgemental sigh.

So apparently he had been faking sleep, after all.

Without uncovering his eyes, he raises one hand above the upper edge of the rocks and waves.

There’s a chorus of surprised exclamations from the girls and a brief rattle that sounds suspiciously like Aigis starting to arm herself on reflex.

Aragaki lowers his hand and kneads at his eyes through the fabric of the hat.

He speaks quietly enough that he probably meant the words for his own ears only, but Minato hears him, and evidently Sanada does as well.

Shoving the hat up from his eyes, Aragaki glares incredulously between Sanada and the direction of Mitsuru’s voice.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

So what’s the word? Hindsight?

Yeah, that’s it. In hindsight, he probably should have expected this. Anyone would be curious.

Ryoji’s staring at the scar on Aragaki-san’s back. The one that really, really obviously couldn’t be from anything except a gunshot.

Aragaki-san faces away from all of them, hunkered in a corner of the changing room and probably trying to avoid this exact situation. Junpei does feel bad for gawking, but he can’t quite stop himself.

Hell, now that he thinks about it, isn’t this the first time he’s seen Aragaki-san’s scars too? They’re not as bad and also kind of worse than he expected them to look. Not as bad because they seem pretty healed up, without any gnarly scabs or anything; and kind of worse because– well, actually seeing them for real was probably going to be worse than just imagining them no matter what he’d pictured.

They can only see the scar from where the bullet went into his shoulder, but the one on the other side, where it came back out, is probably way worse. Exit bullet wounds look a lot more messed up than entrance wounds– Junpei knows that from Deuce Defender. And they say video games don’t teach you anything! 

He doesn’t really want to see that one, but at the same time– he’s kinda morbidly curious?

He wants to ask if it hurts at all, because even though it does look so healed, he can’t imagine it not still hurting at least a little. If Ryoji wasn’t here making big, worried googly eyes, Junpei would go ahead and ask, but Aragaki-san’s probably already at his limit as far as how much attention he can stand having on him.

Ryoji opens his mouth. Junpei taps his arm with his knuckles at the exact same time that Minato lightly elbows him from the other side. He and Junpei and Sanada-san all shake their heads. Ryoji closes then opens his mouth again a few times like a goldfish.

Not the smoothest recovery, but not terrible either! Attaboy, Ryoji!

Junpei sighs, making sure to sound as wounded and world-weary as possible. Should he put the back of his hand to his forehead? Nah, that’s too much.

But hey, crisis averted! Nice work team, time to hit the showers! Hot springs. Whichever!

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

They drink together in silence for a while. Every sip is as comforting as the first, and bit by bit something behind her ribs begins to soften– iron-cold, hard-packed earth thawing under the blush of spring.

They’ve each finished about half of their tea before Aragaki speaks again.

…Ah. Of course he would bring that up. The sense of serenity that had started to bloom frosts over.

It’s a weak volley, made weaker by how thin her voice is, threadbare and woven with a note of shame. Aragaki does her another kindness and refrains from calling her on it. He only shrugs, unabashed at being caught out.

He scoffs, like he was expecting that exact response. He drinks again, and she mimics him; partly as an excuse to avert her gaze and partly seeking to fortify herself with the tea’s warmth.

He punctuates his skepticism with another sip of tea. Mitsuru follows suit. She closes her eyes and focuses intently on noticing and appreciating every little intricacy of its flavor, the exercise helping her to bring herself back into balance.

Mitsuru nurses her tea in silence for a long moment, but eventually sighs. While she knows he always means well, it’s very easy indeed to imagine Akihiko getting so absorbed in a morning run through new scenery that he’d end up in the next prefecture over. As Student Council President, it is her duty to prevent such a thing.

Aragaki laughs once, quietly. He’s been doing that more often as of late, but hearing it again has yet to stop taking her by surprise.

She tries to keep her tone strict, but there’s no smothering the amusement in her voice. Once again she finds herself unable to be angry at his needling. Another thing that has always been true about Aragaki is his uncanny talent for annoying her into a better mood; and indeed, this little verbal sparring match he incited has left her feeling– lighter. Freer and more clear headed than she has in days. The sense of respite is in such sharp contrast to her prevailing state of mind that it feels almost improper.

…Well, isn’t it improper?

The fog closes back around her with horrifying swiftness.

What right does she have to be light-hearted? All of her failures, all of her transgressions, her burdens, her losses– what gives her the right to look away from them? Where did she get the audacity?

She drops her gaze back to the tea left in her mug, suddenly unable to continue looking Aragaki in the eye.