Hard To Understand

Souji couldn't quite get his head around what he was seeing.

"I do still have a job, you know," she quipped, grinning, and he couldn't get his head around that, either. How did she have the gall to be there, in front of him, telling him things that he knew were true, but couldn't understand, couldn't possibly make sense?

"Please explain," was his response, awkwardly growled through gritted teeth. "How are you here? I killed you," he continued, and her laughter, short, sharp and ear-splittingly loud, served only to irritate him.

"For someone so clever, you're really not very bright."

"Bright enough to bring you down," he muttered, chewing on the corner of his lower lip, nerves frayed, anger and pure, unbridled fear welling up inside him as he quashed his anxiety and forced himself to meet the other's gaze.

"You're right, as always," and the grin on her face softened into a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I think we should talk. You're leaving tomorrow, right?"

Souji's eyes widened, and for a moment, he couldn't get his head around that either.

"How do you know?"

"I'm a god. I've been here watching you the whole year, remember?" The way she rested her hands on her hips, cocked her head to one side and stared, like she was looking into the deepest recesses of his soul, examining him, judging him, reminded him of his mother, and for a brief moment he wasn't fully sure of himself, of his life before Inaba, during it, or even what would come after. "I'm not your mother," she continued, and the knot in the pit of his stomach loosened considerably.

"Thankfully," he replied, slowly working his tongue around the words as though they were a physical challenge for him to speak. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with the idea of matricide on top of...deicide, or whatever it was we did," only pausing to add, "and I like my mother, thank you very much."

For the first time, Izanami's smile reached her eyes, glittering with amusement and, Souji would later swear, some measure of carefully concealed pride.

"I think I'd still be proud to have you as a son, though," she whispered, and Souji stared, stunned into silence as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him.

"This is awkward," he said, moving to embrace her in turn. "I'm not sure what you want from me, but this certainly isn't typical mother-son conduct."

She cut in brusquely, hushing him with a finger on his lips, and he stopped, head bent downwards, eyeing her curiously. She rested her forehead on his, and in that moment, it felt like time stopped, the town around them disappearing into darkness, leaving nothing but them, locked in an embrace between moments as they struggled to come to terms with each other.

Then it was all over. He felt strangely cold, almost lonesome, when her warmth left his, slowly realizing that she had no right to be warm, to breath, even to be alive, after what they had seen and done. Had it all meant nothing, their efforts, their battle? If he had just walked away, ignored everything, would it have been just as worthwhile as standing his ground, fighting, dying?

"Izanami," he snarled, and he felt the courage that came so easily with everything else he did melt away. "Tell me why. Please."

"In due time, Souji," she said, slowly wrapping her hands around his. "Right now, why don't we take a walk?"

"So why aren't you with that little boy-toy of yours?"

Souji had blanched, only barely able to stop himself from lashing out. "It's my last night," was all he could force out, still uncertain and angry with the dead goddess. "I told Teddie I needed to finish the last of my packing." He could still remember how the blond's face had fallen, if only fleetingly, and he'd begun to panic (what if he'd destroyed Teddie? Could he live with himself?) until he'd miraculously recovered, putting on the most resolute, determined mask Souji had ever seen on the bear, waving away the grey-haired boy's misgivings like they were simply smoke.

"Sensei," he had said, "I want to be there for you and Nana-chan. We're all sad that you're leaving..." The bear had faltered mid-sentence, which had concerned him at the time, but he'd stayed quiet, hoping whatever Teddie had to say, he would say with the strength that Souji did not have, had spent fighting Izanami. "So I'll stay with you both, to keep your spirits up!"

Souji hadn't been able to deny the truth of Teddie's words, so he'd agreed, faked exasperation to hide the rush of joy he couldn't smother, and sighed, "Just go get your things from Yosuke's house and head over to my place, okay?"

The beaming smile on Teddie's face had washed away most of his sadness at the time, though it could not rid of him of the despair that clouded his thoughts over being forced to leave everything he'd come to love behind. After pecking him on the check, the bear had eagerly sprinted off in the direction of Yosuke's house, eventually fading away into the darkness of the evening. Souji had wondered whether he should be as enthusiastic; Teddie was still so innocent, so naive, that even though it had yet to happen, he almost felt guilty about being the first person to break the bear's heart.

"Hey, you still there?"A voice asked, startling the grey-haired boy from his reverie, and he immediately whirled around to glare long and hard at the offending god.

"Yes," he snapped, "I am. More importantly, I'm still confused. Do you intend to answer any of my questions?"

"Calm down," she replied, and the smirk that found its way to her face only made Souji angrier.

"I fail to see the irony," was all he could say, hoping his glare would convey everything that his words could not.

"Alright, alright," she chuckled, raising her hands to pacify him. "First, you have to at least tell me what your questions are, right? So go ahead, shoot."

The grey-haired boy's mind blanked for a moment, and he idly noticed that they had made it to the bank of the Samegawa River. Dimly he wondered what the gas station attendant would look like dripping wet. Then he took that thought and crossed it from his mind, locking it away as deeply as possible, throwing away all the keys, all while desperately questioning where in his (mostly sane) head a thought so utterly horrifying could have come from.

"I have a lot of them to ask," he began, wary of her eyes boring into his. "I know it's late, and I know you must be busy doing whatever it is dead gods do, so you'll have to humour me."

"I don't mind," was her reply.

"First, then," he continued, slipping into a more relaxed tone, "you'll have to tell me why you're still here. We destroyed you."

He hoped the extra emphasis on 'destroyed' would put her on guard, but it didn't seem to faze her at all. "I'm a goddess," she answered, vague notes of disapproval edging their way into her voice. "Don't they teach you anything in school?" she huffed; eyes again filled with dark amusement and – was that desire? Souji couldn't tell. He hoped he was wrong, that she hadn't brought him there, defenceless, in order to eat him.

"So, what, I only pissed you off? Looks to me like you're fine!" He hoped that she couldn't tell he was disappointed. He'd thought that he'd beaten a god, saved the world, got the girl (or strange, mysterious Shadow-boy, in his case), and the thought had filled him with pride; he was a legend now, at least in Inaba, or he'd felt that way for all of a few hours until a chance meeting with the very god he'd killed tore up all those nice feelings. Immortality was an unfair handicap.

"Don't sound so depressed," she chided him, and he noticed her hand enveloping his again. The feeling was mildly comforting, slightly underlined with worry. "You beat me, for sure. I've got nothing left," free hand opening up to illustrate in a way Souji found amusing, "and even if I did, think of what you did to me. What you showed me. All the other things you've done to make a name for yourself here." Gently she coaxed him towards the river, and he found himself pondering once more. Surprisingly she seemed very capable of getting him to think, to retreat into his mind and brood.

He felt her hand squeeze his, so he stopped to listen to her advice. He had created a world, Margaret had told him, although he didn't understand the specifics of how it worked; twenty-one social links meant little to him when he considered it twenty-one people, perhaps less, perhaps more, whose lives he had helped to improve: some he had even saved. Occasionally it had occurred to him that using them for power was wrong, until he'd seen the first real result, the first indication that his efforts were worthwhile – Chie's ecstatic face after coming to terms with herself, her desire to protect others, and the new powers that she'd gained to help her do so. He'd come to the conclusion that it was worthwhile, that there was no real downside to forming bonds beside being, at times, overly reliant on masks he hadn't even known he'd had. Then there was all the help he'd given to others, from feeding stray cats, to finding ore; he'd caught the Guardian, proven he was the best chef in town, and enabled countless people to pursue their dreams, amongst many other things besides (that he felt were worthy of attention).

"Pride is man's greatest sin, you know," Izanami crooned into his ear, and he realized that she was right: he hadn't been proud when he was doing those things, no desire to be acknowledged, only content. It hadn't been until that moment, Izanami at his side and warping his feelings, that he'd felt the need to justify himself to anyone, least of all himself.

"You do something to me," he said, and he meant it. "I don't know what it is, but it hurts. It's not me," he choked out, abruptly short of breath, the strain of speaking beginning to cloud his vision.

"You're right," Izanami replied, honeyed words cutting through the haze in his head, "It's not. I want your shadow, Souji."

A moment of clarity, followed by blinding pain, and Souji found himself sprawled out on the ground by the river, gazing up into the sky, Izanami leaning over him to rest her hands on his chest, just above his heart. The haze had returned in full force, but Souji shoved it aside, focusing everything he had left on the steady beat of his pulse, his heart, beneath Izanami's hands. His mind wandered.

"Izanagi," she murmured, which brought Souji swiftly back into the real world, and he pushed off the ground, scrambling away from her in agony, but free, mind slowly clearing. Mentally he noted that putting distance between himself and the goddess was a smart move; the pain in his head had lessened noticeably, now just a dull throbbing, and he found his breathing slowly evening out, less frantic, now solely concerned with the dead goddess that rose gracefully to her feet in front of him.

And goddess she was: for the first time, Souji stopped to get a good look at her, and couldn't bear to tear his eyes away, incapable of not noticing how tall and slim she was, her heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, clear, pale skin and long, silver hair. Despite the wholly unflattering attendant's uniform she was wearing, her beauty eclipsed that of anyone he had ever known, radiant and ethereal as she was, and the sheer terror of the voices in his head that clamoured and screamed for him to submit to her roaming stare, roving hands, voluptuous body-

He jolted, summoning the willpower to stop that train of thought entirely and calling to mind the truth, the image he had seen in the other world – that she was, above all, an ancient, dead goddess, a monstrous, rotting corpse, a being of supreme power that had tried – and succeeded! – to kill him.

"Next question," he said, looking for any signs of hostility in his opponent's (because she was his opponent, not his friend, lover, wife, mother of his children, regardless of what the voices said) demeanour, and finding none, he continued, "Why me?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Izanami sounded more perplexed than irritated, Souji noted. "You were hope. You represented hope, and innocence, and youth, and all the other wonderful things humanity takes for granted. You were suitable, and you proved it; you won."

Faintly, Souji touched Izanagi-no-Okami within his heart, appreciating the comfortingly familiar murmur it made as it awoke. "I don't see why it had to be me!" he shouted, drawing strength from Izanagi and momentarily forgetting that people tended not to like being disturbed late at night by other people's noise.

"You act like I had another choice!" Izanami shrieked in response, and Souji frowned, hoping that she wasn't intending to let their 'discussion' devolve into a shouting match. He may have been happy to shout, but it was only because he expected the goddess to retain her composure – watching her break down was both gratifying and distressing, and he longed to run his hands through her hair, slide them down her back, comfort her in ways that he was certain should not be in his head at all. "I didn't know you were as powerful as you are! I picked the first person I could who seemed like they could do the job! I just thought," lifting her hand to point accusingly in his direction, "that I was doing right by humanity! Why am I the villain now?"

Souji felt his heart clench in sympathy inside his chest, but he forced that down too, forced himself to focus on her indignation, her shame, her foolish, all-too-human qualities. "All I want to know," he roared, "is why you're here, now, after everything that's happened. So please," spitting now, choking back the fury rising in his throat that threatened to escape him at any moment, "calm down and explain yourself to me."

Izanami visibly deflated, leaving Souji to briefly wonder why he felt so sorry for her after what she had done. "What is there to tell a human could comprehend?" Her voice, suddenly filled with regret, assuming the melodious, echoing timbre that he was so familiar with, rang eerily hollow in his head. "Can the scope of your truth truly understand that of mine?"

"I don't know," Souji answered, stepping forward, shouldering through the pain of the voices in his head to take her arm in his, "but we can find out, right?"

Her grim smile was all the answer he needed.

"The only desire I have of this world is to see my husband returned to me," Izanami mumbled, and Souji nodded appreciatively. To some degree, he understood.

"I can only imagine what my life would be like without Teddie," he replied, "but I'm fairly sure that it'd be empty."

"But our situations are vastly different, my child," her voice cracked, taking on a far more sombre pitch, "as though there are worlds between them. You are young, childish, inexperienced; we were vast, ageless, ancient. You were not betrayed by your love," she muttered, bitterness oozing from every word, and Souji wondered if, after her experiences, he would have ended up the same way.

"I guess I'm beginning to understand," he said, though his voice shook with every word, and he scowled. It was hard to put his deepest fears, regrets, sorrows, out the way he was. "I'm like Izanagi, aren't I? I forced you out of this world, put a barrier between you and your love..." he trailed off, glumly staring at a slab of paving below his feet that he idly noted had come loose. He kicked it, and automatically added it to his list of regrets – the pain stung badly.

"Don't do that," Izanami laughed, batting away his hand as she bent down to grab his foot. The pain vanished the moment she touched it, so Souji pinched it; he wasn't dreaming, though it was a strange time to realize, or care. Had she really healed his toes? Why would she waste her powers on such minor nuisances?

"My husband used to be the same," was her response, groaned to cover up the warmth that shone through every word. "Stupid things, truth be told, but maybe it's part of being male." Her voice had returned to its usual human timbre, and Souji paused, straining his ears to catch a last, dying note of that other, melodious sound.

"So why? What do you want my shadow for?" It seemed rude and ill fitting, given the affectionate nature of the moment they were sharing, but Souji could not halt his curiosity, and probing for answers was all he could bring himself to do as they edged further in the direction of his home. He dreaded home, dreaded sleep, since they were finality: they meant the end, and the end was something he urgently wanted to avoid.

"It's you," the goddess whispered in reply, stroking his cheek with her thumb, and he felt his face flare up as she caressed it. "You're Izanagi, truly, in all but name, and I thought..." the tension as she paused, struggling to find the right words, was almost palpable, and Souji fidgeted in anticipation, inner voices urging him to close the distance between them and just give himself over to her.

"You thought that we could be together?"

"Only after you grasped the truth," she retorted, eyes sharply focusing on him. "I was always concerned with mankind's desires, first and foremost, before my own. Once you defeated me, however, I knew mankind's desires had been granted; you desired freedom and you had it. So, I used the last of my power as a god to bring me here. To see you."

"The last..." Souji questioned, eyes widened, curiosity evident in his expression getting the better of him. "What do you-"

"I'm little more than a mortal now," Izanami interrupted, closing her eyes and leaning backwards. "The sky is beautiful at night, isn't it?"

"It is," Souji quickly agreed, looking up into the darkness. As far back as he could remember the unnatural fog, the clouds, or some other dreary weather, had shrouded Inaba during the night. It was refreshing, a blessing in itself, to finally be able to see the stars. "Like a canvas, isn't it? Little points of light dotted across it, dancing and twinkling. It's gorgeous."

"We made it this way for you, you know," Izanami declared, eyes themselves dancing points of light, full of mirth. "Humans. We just wanted you to be happy."

Souji really hadn't planned on kissing Izanami, had instinctively lunged towards her, and from her expression, he could tell she hadn't been expecting it either. Funny, how for a god, she wasn't very godly at all, the thought that she was now mortal not really crossing his mind. He could taste her, a mixture of life, death, darkness, all rolled up into a single, indistinguishable mess that reminded him of the scent of the TV world, of Shadows, of Teddie, that excited and repulsed him at the same time; not bothering to draw breath as they leaned into each other, hands wildly clutching and snatching at whatever of the other they could find, passion throwing caution to the wind. Souji had never felt so exhilarated, so whole, so vibrant and vivid and full of life, in all the years he'd lived.

It took a monumental effort to pull himself away from Izanami. In just that one short kiss, she had completed his very soul: the voices in his head had silenced, contented, while Izanagi-no-Okami was now full of life, chattering animatedly in his head about memories he could not remember, people he did not know, lives that were not his – but none of it mattered, because Izanami was smiling up at him, eyes sparkling in the moonlight with the purest joy he'd ever seen, slowly letting go of him and mumbling something unintelligible under her breath as she turned away, and he didn't want to let her go, refused to let her leave, because nothing was worth more than that contentment, that completion.

"But you'll find it," she said, and he heard her then, heard that, and for the first time, he saw her for what she was – more than a goddess, a woman, alone, broken by her bastard husband, by fate, who had soldiered on against the flow, somehow, with a heart stronger than any he had ever known before.

Only then did Souji recognize the feeling bubbling up inside him, from the tips of his toes to the ends of the hairs on his head, greater and more concentrated than any alike that he had ever felt before. That inscrutable warmth that flooded his body whenever he helped to save another person in their darkest hour, his own little messiah complex, and as the World filled his mind, a bond forming that would never break, worth more than any riches the world could offer, a card appeared in Souji's hand. On one side, it bore a picture of beautiful Izanami, entirely his and yet not, belonging to the all-powerful soul he had nurtured within himself; on the other, his Teddie, beautiful in his own way, entirely his and yet not, surrounded by angels the grey-haired boy was sure represented all the people who loved Teddie and wanted to share in him, the blond in question grinning that foolish grin up at him that filled him with joy, made him feel like Teddie was his, Souji's, and no one else's. In that moment, he had his answer, his journey completed, the finality of closure, rest and freedom for he and Izanami both, more alike than he had ever dreamed, and he couldn't quite get his head around it.

"Goodbye, Izanagi," was the last thing he heard her say, voice carried to him on the prevailing wind before she faded into the blackness that engulfed them, her heart pulling at his one final time before letting go once and for all.

"Goodbye," he cried out to no one, relief flooding his aching body as he beamed into the night, "Izanami."

With that, Souji turned and hurried away towards the house he had spent the last year in, the house that he was going to leave tomorrow, the house he had come to view as his home, opening the door to his final rest Inaba, completed by his little family once and for all – Uncle Dojima, Nanako, and his own perfect Teddie. He hoped someday that they too would be as close as Izanami and her Izanagi had.

Embracing Teddie and Nanako as he walked into the house and shut the door, Souji finally left behind his doubts, to the raucous laughter, screams and tears of the people he loved most.

Deep inside his heart, two lovers reunited, in what they hoped would be eternal bliss.

And none of them could get their heads around that.