This place made him sick. He wanted to run. He saw the grass, the layers and layers of dirt and bugs and rocks that kept her underground, still and silent. He felt her touch and heard her voice but all he saw were the bare trees of winter and the bare grave of his mother, no flowers, no visitors. Every time he had dragged himself here it was always the same. He stood at a distance, shaking, staring, until it was too much, and he ran as far as he could, feeling like he was losing her all over again in the process.
The pain never let up, never dulled, it was a constant empty ache that took over his entire body. All she had in this life and the afterlife was him, and he had let her down, let everyone down, let his fear keep him away and keep him weak. He was weak here, he was weak during the Dark Hour. He wasn't even mature enough to look down at a tombstone without crying, and he definitely wasn't mature enough to save the damn world.
He clenched his fists, ready to run at any second, it was becoming too much. But something caught his eye. He could barely process it correctly, but there it was, laying across his mothers resting place like the sun, the brightest light of whatever kind of heaven there was. A bouquet of sunflowers. He closed his eyes and saw them. In the vase on Minako's dresser, he saw the sunflower print on her favorite dress, the sunflower's she planted in the garden behind the dorm. The bouquet screamed of her presence and he knew exactly how they had come to rest with his mother. Her. It all comes back to her. His strength is purely her. Everything is her. He had come to his mother for strength, his weakness had almost driven him away yet again and here she was, pushing him forward in her own way.
Her bedroom door was cracked, he heard the faint sound of music, soft guitars and wavering vocals. He lifted his hand up to knock, but she had already sensed someone was there. There was no sneaking up on Minako, no eavesdropping outside her door, she always knew.
She pulled the door open, and Ken nearly lost his balance at the sight of her. Her hair wasn't pulled up like usual, it was loose and wavy at her shoulders, and she…well, she didn't have any pants on. She was wearing an extra large faded t-shirt splattered with paint that fell just past her butt. He could even see her neon green panties whenever she moved. He felt faint.
"Ken-kun! Are you okay? Come inside!" He had stumbled back onto his knees, and was staring up at her with wide eyes.
"I'm…just...lost my footing..." His face was redder than her eyes as he stepped inside her room, still dizzy from the sight of her.
"What's up? Sorry I look like such a mess, I'm doing some painting!"
She sounded her usual excited self, heading back over to her easel and picking up her brush as she spoke to him, her smile reaching her eyes. It was as if she had forgotten everything that had happened a few days before. But that was her nature. Forgiving and kind. He should have known she wouldn't hold any of it against him.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, still smiling, waiting patiently for him to speak up. But he couldn't find his words. He had never seen her look so beautiful, the way she bounced back and forth on her tiny bare feet, the way her toenails, painted a cobalt blue, had such a contrast against her long pale legs. He swallowed.
"I really need to know something, Minako….why did you leave those sunflowers on my mother's grave? I know it had to have been you, they're your favorite flower and no one else has ever visited my mother's grave…besides me…."
He felt himself beginning to shake, and tears started to well up in his eyes. Why was he crying now of all times? He squeezed his eyes shut, the music filling his head as he tried to gain his composure back.
"Well...I knew you would want there to be something happy there, something that represented how much you loved her. But I also know how it feels to stand above the grave of someone you love. I still can't really handle seeing my parent's tombstones and knowing that's all that's physically left of them in this world, you know? I know you do, why am I even asking…"
She got quiet, lost in thought, she seemed like she was picking her words carefully, which was a rarity from her usual excited banter that seemed to come from nowhere and trail everywhere.
Ken stared at her back, the way her muscles moved in her shoulders, her arms, her legs, her strength was physically visible in everything she did. He wanted to touch her, right then, he wanted to wrap his arms around everything she was and cry and scream and kiss her, he wanted so badly to kiss her. But he knew that was wrong, it wasn't possible. It would never happen. And he was angry, he was so angry. He wanted so badly to show her what she meant to him.
Ken couldn't bring himself to say what he was feeling. He felt shame. He didn't have the strength to visit his own mother's resting place, except from so far away her name on the stone looked like nothing more than lines and shadows. And Minako did.
She did it for him, without even needing to be told he needed it, she knew, she felt it. As he sat in her room watching her sway and bounce and smile and paint and sing, as his body ached to hold her and kiss her and do everything he would never get a chance to do, everything someone his age isn't even expected to be thinking about….he felt nothing but shame and anger.
Why couldn't he just be happy? She tried so hard to make it so, and yet it was as if everything inside of him was fighting her off, without him wanting it too.
"Thank you. I mean it." His voice was weak and wavering, but he used every ounce of compassion he had to make sure she felt how much her actions really meant to him, despite everything he was feeling. He closed his eyes as he felt her moving close to him, until she was curling up beside him on her bed. He felt her arms close around him and pull him towards her, and he suddenly his world was her scent, he was dizzy again, weak.
"I think I'll leave her something next time too. You'll come with me, won't you Minako?" He spoke against her shoulder as they sat there, still and intertwined.
"Of course. Any time." Her voice sounded far away as she stroked his back, feeling him shake slightly at her touch.
"Thank you."
Authors Note: I know I haven't updated this in YEARS, but I'm replaying P3 (still my favorite game!) and got some inspiration to write up this little chapter. Sorry it's so short and unedited, but if there's still interest in this fic, I'll write up a real chapter and fix this one up a bit! Promise! :)
