Chapter 7 – Crosshairs
"Don't tell me Amada was the one thing that convinced you to come back after all this time," Akihiko said. "Because I really will punch you in the face."
"I'll make sure to pretend it hurts," Shinjiro said, and dropped his backpack. It fell onto the empty bed with a suspicious clank.
.
Shinjiro was just as strong as ever, which pissed Akihiko off pretty righteously. Akihiko had been training nonstop for years. Fasting, lifting, running, breaking himself down so he could build himself up again. The first time they'd battled shadows as a three-man team, Shinjiro had swiped up a random chair from the meeting hall and used that to bash through half of Tatsumi Port Island. Even summoning with his Evoker looked like he was pulling the moon down from the sky. It'd been effortless. And even when it hadn't been, he'd made it look that way, which was nearly as intimidating.
Now that their team had expanded, the end-level obstacle in Yabbashah no longer afforded them a challenge. They shook off the last of the shadows and left them to evaporate in the light, and the barrier to Tziah parted for them like a curtain of jewels.
Akihiko was fairly sure he was the only one who felt a pang of regret when they climbed the last staircase. He wasn't unstable enough to form an actual emotional dependency on it, but Yabbashah itself had kind of reminded him of the ocean: blue and vast with undulating reflections, percussive like the pulse of water over the shore. He hadn't bothered to ask if the others could hear it, because he had the feeling it was largely being interpreted through Polydeuces. That recognition of spatial relationships, of life-rhythms that went deeper than ears could hear. In a weird way he didn't want to discuss, it bothered him to leave the rhythm of Yabbashah behind, the way it bothered him to leave puzzles half-finished.
Tziah on the other hand instantly, ferociously irritated him, and it didn't take him long to figure out that he was going to have to change up his combat style in order not to be a hindrance. He could hear Junpei salivating over the solid gold walls, but all Akihiko could focus on was the jagged edges and cold floors and the enemies strong enough to mash his fists into pulp. The color scheme was like heat lightning, constantly catching the corner of his eye, making him irritable and dizzy. Where Yabbashah had passed around them in waves, Tziah was a constant explosion of light and movement. Distractions that he used to be able to dismiss now caught his eye and yanked his attention up more frequently. The glint of their evokers. The shine on the blades. Their reflections as they ran across the floor.
He watched Shinjiro skulk around Tartarus like a punk and watched the juniors look at him like he was some kind of god, when really Shinjiro was neither. He was a kid with a bad attitude who could hit things really, really hard. Arisato, freshly decked out with a scarf that repelled Garu and a new naginata that glinted like a half-moon, seemed to realize this and maybe something else, because she put Shinjiro into the rotation and proceeded to leave him in for the next three trips.
Akihiko wanted to tell her to ease off already, that Shinjiro hadn't battled in years, that he'd push himself too hard if she let him, but by the third return trip there was a glint in her eyes that he'd never seen before. She headed back up with the both of them, Yukari in tow, to tackle a floor overrun with Mayas.
Akihiko tried to mind his own business, but it was a lot like trying to tune out a loud marital dispute on public transportation. Arisato would give Shinjiro an order and he'd ask her who the fuck do you think you are, and then the battle would dissolve into explosions and the singing descent of her naginata and his loud, expressive cursing. More often than not Yukari and Akihiko would be left standing there awkwardly after the battle while Shinjiro got in Arisato's face and she got right back into his, matching his volume decibel for decibel.
Akihiko didn't get a chance to ask Mitsuru about it, because in some sort of vindictive determination, Arisato ran them all until they were half-dead. At the end of the Dark Hour the team returned, sweaty and bloodied and staggering under an irreligious amount of loot. He thought Arisato would ease up now that she'd proved her point, but the second day they turned right back around and did it all again, Akihiko anchoring and Yukari healing, Arisato strike-forcing through the front lines with Shinjiro on her heels.
This time Akihiko caught an unlucky hit behind the ear early on and knocked his own stupid lights out by crashing headfirst into a support beam. He came to with Shinjiro cradling his head from the floor and bellowing at Arisato over his shoulder for the bad call, and at that point Akihiko was too fed up with their bullshit to protest when Arisato insisted on bringing him back down to the lobby to swap him out for Junpei.
Akihiko let himself be tended to by Mitsuru while he listened to the ghostly echo of the battles reverberating inside the barrier of Fuuka's persona. Arisato would call out an order and Shinjiro would tell her to go fuck herself, and then he'd follow the order anyway, and together they'd plow through the offense with psychotic efficiency: her slicing laterally and him crashing down with his bludgeon, creating crosshairs before which the enemy kept falling, one and then ten and then fifty.
Fuuka, fretful over the dissent, tried repeatedly to smooth things over as she directed them on strategy. Akihiko could practically hear Yukari's eyes rolling from all the way on the other end of Tartarus. "They're gonna kill themselves," Akihiko muttered, staring, then hissed as Mitsuru smoothed ointment over the site of the injury.
"Perhaps," Mitsuru said, her own eyes riveted to the ghostly afterimages of the battle playing inside Lucia's shell. "But they will bring Tartarus down with them."
At their feet, Koromaru gave a jaw-cracking yawn.
.
With Shinjiro's arrival, questions Akihiko had been suppressing for a while began to rise back up to the surface. Some were more abstract and unanswerable than others, but most of them basically boiled down to Why. Why him. Why this persona. Why this element.
He couldn't even say the name because his tongue wasn't trained to form those syllables. Polydeuces. Pori-dyu-ku-su. The right pronunciation was in his heart, but by the time it got up to his mouth it sounded wrong. Mostly he just shot himself and lightning came out, and then he'd spend the entire battle rotation wishing more shadows had stomachs so he could just suckerpunch them and never mind the persona bullshit.
It was chicken and egg questions mostly. Like if Polydeuces had always been in his heart and that's why he was a boxer. Or if he'd already been a boxer, and that's why Polydeuces had chosen him. If Shinjiro was Castor because Akihiko was Polydeuces, or vice versa, and that's why they were friends even though they routinely punched each other in the mouth. Because they were cosmic twins. Or something.
It made his head hurt. He drank some water and decided it mostly dehydration, but thoughts were knocking around in his head harder lately. He needed help organizing and there was no shame in outsourcing.
It was mid-morning on a Sunday and the lobby would be deserted, which meant he could prepare breakfast in peace. Wondering if pondering existential questions burned calories, Akihiko was all the way down to the last stair before he belatedly picked up the telltale patter of a keyboard.
He had no time to backtrack as Fuuka glanced up from her place on the sofa, alerted to his presence. "Oh, good morning, Akihiko-senpai," she said, surprised. "I didn't realize anyone was still left in the building."
"Hey," Akihiko said, alert. He surreptitiously took in the rest of the room, then pushed his hands into his pockets. "Is everybody else gone?"
"Yes, everyone left really early today." Fuuka's natural sunshine made him feel even more like an asshole. "Hamuko-chan made a wonderful breakfast this morning. She left some labeled for you in the refrigerator. She asked me to tell her if you liked it."
"Sounds good." Normally when this happened he'd foist his portions off on the dog when no one was looking, but Koromaru wasn't here and Fuuka was looking right at him, waiting for a response. Akihiko knew better than to skip breakfast entirely because it screwed with his afternoon workout, but Arisato tended to play fast and loose with recipes. He had no idea what she'd made, but whatever it was, it'd be a far cry from a boiled egg and a cup of miso soup.
He was still debating how to answer when Fuuka inadvertently saved him. "It's getting late in the morning, though. I'm sure she would understand if you didn't want to spoil your appetite for lunch."
"Yeah," he said, trying not to sound too relieved. "That's just what I was thinking. Thanks for telling me, though. I'll save it for tomorrow."
"Are you going out? Everyone seems so busy today. I feel so lazy in comparison."
He began to say 'no', then abruptly changed his mind because actually, why not. "Yeah, I have a few errands to run."
"Okay. Have a good time."
"Sure. Thanks."
Fuuka looked back down at her computer screen and was engrossed again within seconds, as though the conversation had never happened.
Knocked off-kilter, Akihiko debated what he was supposed to do next. He could make breakfast as planned, but it felt weird now that there was someone right outside the kitchen door. When he turned around to retreat to his room, he remembered he'd just told her he was planning on going out. He had to get his jacket, but he should probably eat first.
… actually, come to think of it, Fuuka was always seeing things that none of the rest of them saw. Akihiko blinked up the stairs, losing himself in the veil of dust motes as he tried to figure out how not to be weird for two minutes. The lobby was peaceful behind him, the stillness undercut by the mechanical flutter of keys.
He dropped back down to the landing. He cut across the kitchen area and eased back against the dining table, bracing himself on his hands to wait.
It took Fuuka a long time to notice him lingering in her periphery. When she did look up, she blinked at him for a very long time, as if she'd gone on a journey and was trying to place him years later. "You mind if I ask you something?" Akihiko said.
"What?" She started a bit. "Me?"
"If you've got a second."
"Got a… oh!" Fuuka seemed to shake herself. She reached up and ducked the screen on her laptop an inch or so, a ceremonial gesture that signaled he had her full attention. "Of course I do," she said. "What do you need, Akihiko-senpai?"
Akihiko tried to figure out the best way to phrase his question. It sounded stupid from all angles. In the end, he decided to just lob it out there as plainly as possible and hope that she caught it. "What do they feel like?"
He heard the faint noises of a passing group of noisy kids outside, and then the lobby fell once again into a dead silence. Fuuka was frozen, eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared at him.
Wait. Had that been weird after all? Akihiko ran the question over in his head again. It seemed pretty straight-forward, but he wasn't known for his communication skills. "Our personas," he said, hoping he wasn't patronizing her by over-explaining. "When you scan them inside Lucia. What do they feel like?"
"Oh!" Fuuka jerked back, seeming to come back to herself. She ducked her gaze, not quite able to look at him, but he could see her face starting to redden. "Y-you meant… um, our personas? In Tartarus?"
"Yeah, of course," he said, kind of confused by the reaction. "What did you think I meant?"
"N-nothing! Nothing. I just… I thought you meant…"
What the hell was she blushing for? For the sixth time that week, Akihiko gave up trying to understand women. "Listen, sorry if it's a strange question, I just thought—"
"N-no, it's not strange at all!" Fuuka's head shot up. "I just… misunderstood you, that's all. Um, I really don't know, Akihiko-senpai. It's kind of hard to explain. Is this for Mitsuru-senpai's research?"
"No, I was just curious. It's okay if you don't want to answer."
"No, wait, hold on." The flush was slow to leave her face, but Fuuka looked more alert now, interested in the subject. She shifted her weight to take him in more directly. "I can sort of describe it, I think, but I can't guarantee it'll make sense. It's not really a feeling that's comparable to things in the real world."
"It's okay. I just wanted a ballpark."
"If I had to describe it…" Fuuka paused, glancing down with a thoughtful frown. She seemed to be carefully considering her words. "I guess it's kind of like… being suspended in clear water, except you can breathe, and it's warm. The voices float by like bubbles."
"Voices?"
"Of the personas," she said. "Everything has its own color and a sensation in there. Even the shadows. Sometimes soft, like velvet, and sometimes really rough like gravel. It all depends."
"What does Polydeuces feel like?"
Fuuka's head tilted as she hesitated again, and he knew why. It wasn't like they were actually you, but it was still an extension of the self, and… well. That was personal. "It's sensations, mostly," she repeated. "I guess you could say that it feels kind of… solid. But bright. Like sunshine shining off metal."
"What about the team? Do we feel the same as our personas?"
"How can I put it." Akihiko watched her fingers twine and untwine as she tried to find the words. He had a feeling that a lot went on in Fuuka's head that made perfect sense to her until she tried to say it out loud. She'd misdirected them a couple of times on an enemy's weakness that way. Sounded like lightning, she'd say, but burned her like fire, and only when she'd seen their attacks bounce off did she realize which was which. "There's a disconnect between the self and the persona," Fuuka said. "They're intertwined, of course, and in one sense there's no beginning or end. But at the same time, there's room for growth. Kind of like a shirt that fits on the shoulders but bags a little at the elbows. I'm sorry, I'm sure there are better ways to describe it. It really is hard to explain. This is the first time I've tried."
"Growth?" Most of what she said went over his head, but that jumped out at him. "You mean us, or the personas?"
"When you're young, you answer to your name before you even know what it means. But one day, you suddenly realize that your name isn't just a sound. Maybe it means 'spring' or 'light' or 'wind'. Maybe it was the name of a cousin, or a family friend. It's something that helps to form the tapestry that describes you. The meaning was always there, but it took you to realize what it truly meant."
"So you're saying that our personas are the parts of us we haven't discovered yet?"
"I guess what I'm saying," Fuuka said, "is that not even our personas can fully describe us, because we're constantly changing. The self changes all the time. Every day, really. Every minute. It's like a tree outside your window. You never actually see it growing, because it's so gradual. But one day you look outside and realize that it's different than it used to be, and right away, the image of the tree in your memory gets updated."
He wondered if she even knew the gravity of what she was saying. She hadn't been in the fight as long as he and Mitsuru had, so maybe this kind of information seemed like a given to her. She certainly wasn't acting like it was a big deal. But personas changing. The thought of Polydeuces one day not being Polydeuces, but becoming something that fit Akihiko just as well, left him a little winded.
He stood there unable to move, thoughts ricocheting like bullets. "I'm sorry if this is prying, but can I ask why the sudden interest?" Fuuka said. "Is there something wrong?"
He realized far too belatedly that he'd spaced out staring at her. Annoyed with himself, he blinked himself back to attention. "Of course not. Why would there be something wrong?"
He hadn't meant it to come out so aggressively. He saw Fuuka flinch a bit, dropping her gaze back down to the computer lid as she murmured a fumbling apology.
Akihiko wondered if there was a bigger dick than him in Iwatodai but kind of doubted it. "I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. I won't bother you any more."
"It wasn't a bother," she said, but quietly.
"Thanks for the information. I really do appreciate it."
"It's okay. I'm happy I could help."
He pushed himself off the table, then hesitated again. It really was easy to forget, especially considering the number of times he tuned her out during battle, but there was a lot of pressure put on her every time they went into Tartarus. Everyone else was allowed to rest up, to regroup or rotate out when they got tired. Fuuka had to stay sharp the entire time. It wasn't any different than the pressure on Arisato, but Fuuka was an invisible omnipresence and therefore easier to take for granted.
I'm an asshole. Resigned, Akihiko slid his hands back in his pockets and turned to face her squarely, manning up. "Listen, we don't tell you this often enough, but you're doing a great job. I don't know how often Mitsuru talks to you about it, but you've made battles a lot easier. It used to be pretty dicey whenever we dove in, but it's been a lot safer for everyone since you took over communications. I just wanted to say thank you. I know it's hard."
Fuuka's head shot up again. Her eyes were wide. She searched his face a while longer, fist settling over her collarbone as she read his expression uncertainly.
Then she ducked her head, and he saw her face warming again, growing pink to her ears. "Thank you, Akihiko-senpai," she murmured. She sounded near tears.
Akihiko wondered if he'd made things better or worse. Probably both. Awkwardness was his other natural element alongside Zio. "I'm heading out. I'll see you later."
"All right. Be safe."
"I will. Take it easy."
He went upstairs to change and get his jacket. His mirror watched him the entire time, glinting like Tziah in the corner of his eye.
After he'd gathered up his dorm key and his pocketknife, he turned it around and hid it in his closet, and all in all that was the last time he looked in a mirror for two months.
.
The air spiraled and yawned with four gaping mouths. When the mouths snapped shut, Yukari dropped like a stone and Mitsuru stumbled, only barely managing to keep her feet. The Mudoon brushed by Akihiko, making his bones shudder, but at the end he was still standing and Arisato was cursing in a way he usually only heard coming out of Shirakawa boulevard.
Fuuka's breathy voice was frantic. "Somebody help Yukari-chan!"
"Arisato," Akihiko barked, but her naginata was already slicing a moonlight arc through the Silent Book. Its pages flapped agitatedly but held together.
He couldn't remember if she held life or death or fire or ice in her head and there was no time to ask. "Arisato, what are we supposed to—"
"Hit it!" was the terse response. "Mitsuru-senpai, use inventory, get Yukari on her feet! Move!"
Akihiko moved. The ground smeared like lights through a film of rain, and impact shuddered up his arm so hard his teeth rattled. By the time Akihiko fell back to his line formation, the Silent Book was sagging in midair, pages fluttering. Arisato was there a moment later with a devastating uppercut of steel, and from the corner of Akihiko's eye came a shout of light that he fervently hoped was a resurrection and not a flanking attack.
To his relief, Mitsuru was pulling Yukari to her feet as the flare faded, and with the usual chaotic see-saw nature of battle, the tables were once again turned in their favor. "Yukari, shake it off." Arisato was merciless, readying her own weapon for another attack. "It's weak to pierce – try finishing it off with an arrow."
Yukari was pale and shaky, but she nodded tightly, and in the blink of an eye had her arrow nocked. She waited just long enough for Mitsuru to get clear, then let it fly, sinking the arrow directly into the heart of the pages. The Silent Book finally dissolved, worrying itself back into the darkness that spawned it.
Akihiko had maybe two seconds to think okay, maybe we sort of got this, before the lion head on the Mach Wheel roared in his left ear and sent him stumbling. "Mitsuru-senpai, stand by," Arisato hollered. "Akihiko, fly!"
Akihiko flicked his blade-tipped glove off in a single, savage motion of his wrist, letting it clatter to the ground. He had his evoker in his hand and the barrel between his eyes inside a breath. Let me out, Polydeuces said, from somewhere in the shadows of Akihiko's own light. Show them what it truly means to fly.
Bring it, Akihiko thought, and pulled the trigger. The blast that tore through his head momentarily blinded him, but by then he was swept up into the gathering storm. The ceiling split and thunder broke and the world undulated with massive, echoing, terrifying sound. Arisato yelled, "Again!" and Akihiko summoned again without cooling down, yanking more power out of his heart, dragging down the heavens until they smashed into the earth.
He half-expected her to yell again, but there was silence in between the fading rumbles. When the light cleared, the shadow was gone and the hallway was clear, and once again the feeling of flight slipped away from him, leaving him shaking and nauseated on the ground.
Akihiko resolutely locked his knees, gripping his Evoker, trying to get a grip before anyone saw him. "Oh my gosh," Yukari moaned, sagging against a nearby pillar. "That was too close. That was way too close."
"I thought it went well." In contrast to the thunderous drill sergeant voice she used in battle, Arisato's tone was musical with her usual bizarre good-humor. She poked at the greasy mess the shadows had left behind, brightening. "Hey, look, they left us presents!"
"Presents?" Yukari looked horrified. "You're happy about this?"
"Sure! Look." Arisato rummaged a moment longer, then triumphantly held up a bright blue stone. "Turquoise! Do you have any idea how long I've been searching for this? This is the best day of my life!"
"Oh my god," Yukari said, and Junpei's raucous laughter broke through Lucia's frequency overtop Fuuka's fretful Junpei-kun, please, I can't hear. "You need to get a hobby," Yukari said. "I'm serious. Don't you ever get scared at all?"
"Not with you all here to back me up," Arisato said. "Fuuka? How are we doing up here?"
"As far as I can – Junpei-kun, please – you have two more floors to go before a checkpoint. If you're feeling tired, I really don't think you should push it. There's something strong up there."
Junpei's cheerful voice once again came soaring overtop. "Heyyy, if you're feeling burnt out, how 'bout you come on down and switch up with me? Maybe I should take a turn being the leader, show 'em how it's really done."
"Nobody here needs a tutorial on how to trip on their own blades," Arisato said, just as cheerfully, jogging off to the other end of the room to look through the items the Silent Book had left behind. "But thanks for the offer. We'll call you."
His head felt… Akihiko continued to stand there in Arisato's wake, fists loose, knees still locked. He tentatively disrupted his balance to reach up, digging his knuckles against his forehead a minute, trying to ground himself. His stomach was cavernously empty, coiling in on itself with a rumble that shook his bones like the Mudoon.
"Akihiko-senpai?"
"Huh?" he grunted.
There was a touch on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Yukari standing in front of him, eyes narrow at she studied him. Her hair was disheveled in a way he knew would mortally embarrass her if she was aware of it. "You don't look so great," Yukari said. "Are you okay? I didn't see you take a hit."
His skin felt fuzzy, as though someone was rubbing it with wool. Puzzled, he spread his stance a little bit, trying to figure out where the disorientation was coming from.
"Um, yeah, okay," Yukari said. "Mitsuru-senpai?"
Mitsuru was in front of him a second later. In full view of Yukari, she pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, then lifted his chin, making him look into her eyes. He felt the vague snap of power as Penthesilea scanned him. "Mitsuru-senpai?" Fuuka's ghostly voice came back again. "Is there a problem?"
"Just a moment," Mitsuru said. She moved her hand, running a thumb along the bandage over Akihiko's temple, and Akihiko automatically leaned into the grounding pressure. "Sit," Mitsuru ordered, displeased, and Akihiko folded his legs, letting her guide him to the floor.
He was vaguely aware of the sudden silence in the hall, but for the moment his entire world was made up of Mitsuru as she knelt before him, grim and focused in the searing brilliance of Tziah's backlights. She sorted through her inventory and emerged with a gem, which she held against his forehead with a firm palm.
Akihiko felt the cleansing snap of a Patra as it dissolved into his skin, and with sudden, intense, humiliating clarity he realized he was on his ass on the floor and pretty much everyone who mattered in his life could see him. "Sorry," he said. "I got distracted."
"Are you all right?" Yukari looked alarmed. She'd retrieved her evoker as though to cast, but it hung loosely at her side as she looked between him and Mitsuru. "What happened?"
"I'm fine. I'm sorry. I think I just spaced out."
"You weren't responding." Mitsuru wasn't fooled, regarding him with a flat gaze as she closed her satchel. "If you were feeling under the weather, it's your responsibility to let her know if you'll be a liability in battle."
"I'm not," he snapped, brushing her off and climbing to his feet. He still felt unsteady, but the light-headedness was receding. He holstered his Evoker, determined not to be embarrassed by his lapse. The Dark Hour played fast and screwy with perception. It was just a matter of conquering it. "Let's get going."
"Everything all right over here?" Arisato was bounding back over, stuffing whatever it was she'd found into her pocket. Despite her friendly tone, he saw her glance between them shrewdly, picking up the undertones. "Are we ready to go?"
"I'm fine," Akihiko said before Mitsuru could respond. "Just lost my focus for a second. I'm good to go."
"Fuuka?" Arisato's attention was up at the ceiling again. It was a superfluous gesture seeing as Fuuka's presence was wrapped around them like a bubble, but they all did it. "Two more floors, right? Until the next boss?"
"Hold on, let me make sure."
They all waited through the subsequent pause, hearing a faint whir like a processor. "Sorry, I really can't get a good read yet," Fuuka said at last. "I'm almost positive, but if you go up a little higher I might be able to tell you a little more."
"No problem. We're on our way," Arisato said. She casually tossed her naginata up on her shoulder and bounded off in the direction of the staircase. Akihiko hated her a bit for the ease of the action. "Let's go. Just a bit further and we can all take a breather."
"That's what you said three floors ago," Yukari muttered, but followed reluctantly, testing the tautness of her bow string as she moved.
Akihiko let out a slow breath before noticing Mitsuru was watching him. Nettled, he met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Don't forget your glove," Mitsuru merely said, ignoring the challenge, and turned her back on him, following Yukari at a more sedate pace.
Akihiko's breath rocked out between his teeth. He stooped and swiped his glove off the floor, jamming it on and adjusting the straps.
They made it up to the checkpoint with little difficulty, ducking out only when Fuuka reissued the warning. Arisato made a point of rummaging through the remains of the shadows every time, occasionally making pleased noises as she shoved whatever it was she was finding into her satchel. Akihiko had never seen what the point was of collecting the junk the shadows left behind, but Arisato seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, even if the results were sometimes stomach-churning: hanks of hair and rusty pieces of metal, keys and sludge and pointy ends that looked sharp enough to cut through thought.
They took as much as they could carry and dragged it back to the checkpoint. Reality went up in a reverse waterfall of green, and then forces Akihiko didn't want to think about too hard vacuumed them back down to the first floor. "Five minutes," Arisato called, already trotting towards her usual corner.
Akihiko ran his hand through his hair, massaging out the sweat, then unstrapped his other glove to give the skin underneath a chance to breathe. He noticed his hands shaking when he lowered them and spent a few seconds flexing and unflexing them, trying to get them to relax. To his displeasure the quivering only intensified, creeping up his wrists and elbows and down his back as his sweat continued to cool.
Mitsuru arranged her skirt and sank down on the second stair, taking out her handkerchief and patting the back of her neck. There was an increasing pressure on Akihiko's shoulders that was pressing him towards the floor, and abruptly he couldn't remember which way was up.
Alarmed by his sudden weakness, Akihiko caught himself on the railing and eased himself down on the stair beside her. Mitsuru finished dabbing her hairline, then neatly refolded her handkerchief and slid it back into her boot. "Are you all right?" she asked, quietly enough as to not be overheard by the others.
He didn't trust himself to answer. He leaned against the rails of the banister and closed his eyes. His skin prickled with cold, making nausea roil in his stomach.
Mitsuru touched the back of her hand to his forehead. Akihiko kept his eyes closed, not bothering to move away. "I'm okay."
"You're exhausted and unwell." Mitsuru kept her voice low. It sounded flat, but he heard the concern in the clipped tone. "It isn't good for you to be inside Tartarus when you're this depleted. You know better."
"Just gimme a second." Now that he wasn't upright, his equilibrium was starting to return. When he opened his eyes, the lobby mercifully stayed level.
What the hell is this. He'd eaten a good breakfast – good enough that he'd had to scale back dinner to compensate. He'd done nothing differently today than he'd been doing two weeks ago.
He kept his temple against the rail of the stairs, working to regain his focus, listening to Yukari and Junpei bicker in the background. Arisato soon re-emerged from absolutely nowhere, looking satisfied. With the exception of a tear in her sock and a smear of something unidentifiable on her shirt, she looked like she was spending a pleasant day shopping rather than blowing personalities from her brain. "All right," she announced, grabbing her naginata from where it leaned against the side of the staircase. She cast her eye over the group. "Ken, you're up. Aigis, you too. And Shinjiro-senpai."
"Aw, c'mon, no fair," Junpei complained loudly, currently sprawled on the floor atop his own jacket. "It's been ages since I've been up."
"It has also been 'ages' since I have been at her side in battle," Aigis said, with monotone brutality. "We must all take turns. It is part of becoming a responsible and mature adult, which you have yet to learn."
"Dude, you just gonna let a robot school me?" Junpei demanded.
"You heard her," Arisato said. "We all have to learn to be responsible and mature adults."
"Yeah, okay, and remind me what mature and responsible adult it was that threw her controller at my head yesterday when I kicked her ass at Dead or Alive?"
Akihiko had already worked himself upwards the moment she'd come back out, beginning to strap his gloves back on. Only then did he realize that she hadn't actually said his name. "Wait," he said. "What about…"
Arisato glanced over at him as she headed for the gate. "Take a breather. I think it's better to swap out the team at this point so nobody gets too tired. The full moon is tomorrow and I need everybody sharp."
Take a breather? Swap out the team? She acted like she'd been out sightseeing while the rest of them paddled through hell in her place. How was it that she managed to keep her feet when the rest of them had to rotate?
Shinjiro stirred, hands still deep in his pockets as he ambled over. Ken tossed his spear up over his shoulder and followed, Aigis not far behind. Arisato set the coordinates, looking up expectantly when Ken asked her a question, and halfway through her response they'd all vanished again into the green.
He hadn't realized he was still standing until Mitsuru said, "Sit down, Akihiko."
"What the hell?" He was having trouble wrapping his brain around the fact that he was here and Arisato was up there. "Since when am I not anchoring?"
Yukari dislodged the rest of her battle gear with a sigh, slumping to the ground by them and folding her arms atop the closest stair to settle her head atop them. "Thank god," she moaned. "If I never have to climb another step that would be just fine with me."
"You acquitted yourself admirably tonight," Mitsuru told her, surrendering a faint smile. "You deserve a rest. But I doubt Arisato will let you retire so easily."
"I don't know how she shook off that Silent Book attack so easily. Mudoons scare me to death. Literally," Yukari said. "Doesn't it seem like there's more of them lately? It's like the place can sense what scares us."
"It wouldn't surprise me if it had that capability, but we mustn't get ahead of ourselves," Mitsuru said. "We'll know more when we take some of these items back to the lab. No doubt they will provide valuable research material."
… Could anyone up there even debuff? Aigis had buffs, but they were defensive. Nothing that could diminish an enemy. "Akihiko, sit down," Mitsuru said. "Rest. She's taken you out of rotation before."
"Only when I'm injured or sick," Akihiko muttered, frustrated. "She's never just taken me out for no reason."
"Well, no, but remember, we have more people now." Yukari propped her elbow on the bottom stair and set her chin in her palm instead. "She doesn't have to lean on everybody so hard now. She's got Shinjiro-senpai now to help take some of the stress off you. Me? I'm grateful I don't have to go up every time anymore."
"It has been convenient having a bigger number to work with," Mitsuru said. "And as to their being 'no reason', Akihiko, I can think of several. You know full well it isn't a slight."
"Yeah, dude, seriously," Junpei suddenly piped up. Until now Akihiko had assumed he'd been sulking, but when he looked over, Junpei was on his stomach, leafing through what looked like an oversized textbook. "I mean, look at me. Most badass warrior on the team, and she leaves me back here all the time. And you know nobody here handles swords like I do."
"Hmm." Mitsuru's expression was suspiciously neutral, her eyes innocent. "Perhaps we should have a bout sometime and test your theory, Iori. It might prove illuminating."
"Ah." Junpei's face lost a little color. "Wh-what I meant to say was, nobody can swing a big sword like I can. But when it comes to tearin' things up, of course you're boss, Mitsuru-senpai. No question."
"What are you looking at, anyway?" Yukari worked her head off her hand and craned her neck to look. "I know you're not doing homework."
"Who says? I'm as studious as the next guy."
"Oh my god, is that an artbook?" Yukari craned her neck further, jaw dropping. "Oh my god, it is. You're seriously looking through an artbook? Did we lose the real Junpei in Tartarus?"
"Hey, I can be an intellectual," Junpei said defensively, forearm curling a little as though to shield the pages from her judgment. "Maybe I'm just developing an interest in the finer stuff. Not like you'd know anything 'bout being cultured."
"I still can't believe she left me behind," Akihiko muttered, barely listening. He vaguely heard Mitsuru say his name, but he was preoccupied. He took a neurotic tour around the lobby, shaking the stiffness out of his wrists, glancing back at the gate to see if she'd appear, but the green stayed quiet and the Dark Hour continued to crawl by without her.
Shit. Come to think of it, he'd forfeited distance on his second run today because he'd assumed he was going to need energy to expend at Tartarus. Everyone else always brought things to do while they waited in the lobby, but this was the first time Akihiko was conscious enough to actually be aware and resentful of the passage of time. How did the others stand it, knowing a major battle was going on and not being there to throw in their weight?
Too wound-up to talk and too frustrated to turn it over in his head any longer, he found an unoccupied corner of the room and practiced footwork drills. Koromaru wandered over to sniff at him, then sat on his haunches and monitored him, head cocked. "Doesn't he ever run out of gas?" Akihiko heard Yukari mutter.
"Leave him be." Mitsuru's voice was also quiet, but he knew her well enough to hear the curt note of irritation. "If this is what he needs to do to relax, then so be it."
He drilled until he was soaked through, then progressed to shadow boxing just to keep himself moving. The lobby maintained its excruciating inactivity, punctuated by Yukari's occasional yawns and the subtle flipping of pages as Junpei leafed through his book.
He was going for an uppercut when the previous weakness returned in a rush. He managed to get his back against a wall before he hit the floor, settling his forehead on his upraised knees, gulping down air as his empty stomach churned.
Koromaru finally came forward, licking the sweat off Akihiko's temple. "S'okay," Akihiko panted, voice blurring over the words. "S'okay, boy."
It wasn't, though.
Thank you to my reviewers KatoriAeku, Confuzed-Anime-Fan, and Ikaros Light. Your feedback makes me fly.
