It's become their own little bonding tradition on Tartarus nights. An odd description, considering they're on nearly opposite sides of the room. Minako sits on Akihiko's bed to take what study seconds she can, leaning her head between certificates of his accomplishments on the wall, and he shows his punching bag what for for awhile as a warm-up for bigger battles.
It's a comfortable quiet, though. Also an odd description, since that only regards voice. Plenty of rustling, reckless noise fills the space, but it doesn't distract her from assigned articles printed for perusal. Headphones have always helped her focus, and rhythmic smacks of one-two jabs and five-six hops just blend with the beat of percussion and piano.
However, his presence occasionally flicks her eyes above ink towards sudden movements. Maybe she could blame the song playing back for providing a subconscious pause, but when she looks again to black and white, thoughts linger behind, louder than what she tries to read from the page.
Obsession had become more understandable once she heard him tell her story. He trains not for glory or vanity, but necessity - empowerment. Every heartbeat becomes a pulse of memory. Every clench of the jaw fights back tears (and every hit to it an excuse to release them). Every snap of a joint carries a whisper of Miki on the wind of its follow through.
At first impressions, she might have told him to chill out once in awhile, but after she became close enough to offer an opinion - learning the truth and imagining this as only the beginning of what he might feel - Minako could only wish to encourage and acknowledge his achievements. They run, renounce, fight against their dread together. If nothing else, she can provide fueling fire to match. She must admit the same fears under her feet when echoes of Mom and Dad trail in the gusts of every leap and land.
She thought, to join their hearts would be to join forces. Impenetrable. Unstoppable. Teaming up to take on not just Tartarus, but the world. Continually better, continually best. Stronger than any regrets.
But to see him now - to rub lightened shoulders, fall into a steadier gaze, be turned around as prey to his teases, and bask in the musk of his confidence - he's turned self-improvement into self-worth. Uses doubt as motivation to protect. Akihiko shines even brighter straight from the core of himself, and everyone sees it.
Perhaps Minako has rid herself of some demons, too, but all it did was leave her without any spark. Her legs twitch restless against sheets, and she swallows in succession for every step she feels fallen behind.
There he goes, still right in front of her, making something of himself for others, doing something (even on days he has to force himself to move at all), while she's sitting around with no answer for who she is in the first place anymore. Minako knows his priorities, and her whole body burns with how useless, how powerless, he must think her lately.
The one thing she does know: she is leader. But she can't even do that well. Can't answer why S.E.E.S. still fights. Can't explain away hurts of loss and betrayal. Can't answer what they have to do to win this war. Can't tell them what is still to be found in the tower. Can't make any choices for them.
How can she dream of standing side by side with Akihiko when it feels like she's really just playing an endless game of catch up? How can she believe she has any chance to defend against the end of the world?
Can't - can't - can't.
Her inner voice chants while slow harmony still locks the thoughts inside, and it keeps her from realizing that the sound of punching has long since stopped; to be replaced by the repetition of her name.
Boxing gloves slide from hands to hit the floor when Akihiko sees the state of her and approaches. Worried brows raise under auburn bangs while Minako's glazed eyes scan the same sentence over and over. Fingers pinch with tight knuckles around what they hold, and nothing written there could possibly be surprising enough to explain quickened, shallow breaths. Nor, he thinks, could it possibly be more important than being with her right now.
He'd compared her personal vendettas to Mitsuru once, and the truth of it still tenses valid. He knows that weary, worried look on either of them by know - trying to handle everything alone again. The difference, of course, is that the woman before him here has been willing to let him in, allowing him the confidence to get close enough to help –
"Minako…!"
Catatonia only breaks once he crawls up on the mattress over her knees and swats the papers down. Her hands release for him to crinkle everything up and toss the wad aside, discarding it from memory. Lines of text in her vision become the lines of his face, which help the moment to start coming back into shape. She startles and shakes her head at the scent of sweat so close, and how concerned he looks at her (not disappointed or angry). How far from reality had her train of thought traveled?
"O-oh. Sorry… I just -"
Apology becomes effectively silenced when he weighs down on her lap to seize her whole torso, and a bare finger curls under her chin to lift it into a kiss just as pressing.
A shocked countenance receives the affectionate gesture. Teeth part just as much from her jaw falling as from Akihiko bidding entry. Minako's head fills with a different kind of dizziness. His shoulders become the only grip she has left before she soon succumbs, relaxing limbs and eyelids. The static of should bes and what ifs that she'd forced down his throat quiet behind a clearer, truer voice she's ashamed to have forgotten.
Let me pitch in!
He is thunder and lightning and the swift rush of a gale. He makes himself powerful so that others don't have to be. Each subtle shift of endearments act in reminder as he sweeps and sucks at her mouth, stealing hurricanes unto himself. Caesar, too, has seen rough waters in the face of conquest. She can relieve any overflow of burdens to him, trusting his experience in successfully navigating craft and crew through storms at sea.
The best a real leader can do is rely on her team.
For once, euphoria grounds rather than elates. Not until the couple's heartbeats synch and their hands have traveled through hair to hold at the back of each other's cheeks do they break for air and light before drowning. It's nearing time to leave for the monorail with little left to talk, but no further reassurances are needed.
As Akihiko backs away, one last caress trails warm down Minakos arms, and leads to briefly hooked rows of fingertips within palms. Then, she shuffles her legs over the edge of the bed while he gathers up their equipment.
"You ready?" he asks, mercifully skimming over her falter and their heated faces.
"…Yeah. Let's go!" Ready - and alright - communicated in her response.
With no words on the subject at all, she realizes he's never left her side.
He's certain of that.