It's aliiiiiiiiiiive! -runs in flailing like a maniac; trips and falls-

So, after my brain caved in and refused to write for Addressed to You after Christmas (darn you, Mexico!), I've been procrastinating this chapter for months. OTL I'm actually still not entirely happy with this end product, but I honestly can't brain anything better so I'll have to settle for this. =A=

I'm already working on it, but don't expect Shinji's chapter to be up anytime soon; I've been stuck in January in P3P and it's not helping me form any inspiration to write fanfics at all. OTL Anyone have any cures for Persona writer's blocks?

Disclaimers, as always: Persona 3/ Portable, its characters and terms (c) Atlus

10 - Akihiko

"Hey, Shinji, you in?"

The words grew louder as its speaker appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying several shopping bags in his hands. As the silver-haired male set his load down on the kitchen counter, he looked around to see if there were any signs of his best friend emerging from someplace or another to help him with the groceries. It was quiet, the only noise the rustle of the shopping bags as he moved the items into their appropriate places in the pantry or fridge and the faint white noise of the ventilation system. Funny, the brunette had been in when he'd left and hadn't shown signs of leaving . . . then again, it was just like the grouchy fellow: here one day, gone the next, without a word to anyone. Once he was done his task, the ex-boxer made his way over to his friend's bedroom door and knocked.

"Shinji?"

No answer. Had he really gone out? Or was he asleep? Faintly worried it could be worse - the other man had quite literally broken down for weeks after his beloved's death, much like she'd broken down when he'd been shot, after all - the pallid-haired man placed a hand on the door handle and turned it. To his surprise, it was unlocked. Shinjirou was a wary individual, even months after the destruction of the Dark Hour and Strega. The university student couldn't think of any time that his friend wouldn't lock the door if his guard was going to be let down. More concerned now, he edged the door ajar, and when he couldn't see anyone in the crack, pushed it further open. Fortunately, there was no lifeless corpse anywhere, which meant that the brunette had gone out and probably just left the door as is.

It was then that he noticed the envelopes.

There were three of them, a large manila and two smaller traditional ones, along with a single sheet of peach-cream paper lying on the bed. The idea that his friend was doing drugs quickly shot in and out of his mind; sure, he'd been taking drugs to suppress his Persona, but that was the past, and he knew for a fact that Shinjirou was diligently keeping to clearing out his system. Not to mention pink most definitely wasn't his thing. Not usually one to pry, the fist-fighter felt the tug of curiosity (or maybe something more? Like some sort of magnetic pull) as he entered his best friend's room. The manila was empty, probably used to hold the paper and envelopes, though from the way it was crinkled slightly he had a feeling there should have been more envelopes and that it had been crammed somewhere for a while. Picking up the paper, knowing it was good-quality stuff the moment he felt its smooth surface and marginally larger thickness, his pale eyes widened as he recognized the penmanship, widened further as he read its contents. Letters? From a month before her death. Was it because she'd known of her fate, even then? Remembered, every event, every reason, everything, even then? When no one else had remembered the happenings that had brought them together, bonded them as teammates and friends, and in a couple cases even more, had she retained the entirety of the foundations they'd laid? Watched her treasured friends, blissfully forgetful of what had forged their relationships, and kept that sunshine smile on her face even as she knew her life was slowly draining away and no one knew about it?

More presently, when had Shinjirou gotten this? The contents of this letter made it clear that Mizuki hadn't given it to him, but the mild abrasions on the corners of the manila meant that it had been with the brunette for a while. Had it been before the Abyss of Time? After? Why hadn't he spoken of this? Letters to friends . . . Replacing the paper, his silver gaze slid over to the two remaining white envelopes. Also written in their late leader's precise hand, one addressed "Aragaki Shinjirou", the other . . . Fingers closing over the little package of paper, pads gingerly running over the pen lines that spelled out his name as a thousand emotions whirled up in his heart and throat. "Sanada Akihiko."

There was the soft snapping hiss of tearing paper as he pulled the flap apart, revealing the contents within, also the same peachy-cream paper that the first letter had been written on. Unfolding it, unveiling her neat print and the border of little doodles parading around the margins, bringing a slightly pained smile on his face as he recalled the almost childish joy the girl would hold on her features as she'd doodle. Akihiko tucked the envelope behind the paper as he moved to seat himself at his desk.

Dear Aki-senpai,

Congratulations on your graduation! I probably won't be there to say it to you personally when the time comes . . . so I'll say it to you here, however crazily belated it may be. It's been a wild year, hasn't it? I definitely didn't expect any of this when I first arrived here at Iwatodai, but I have to admit that even when it got a little scary sometimes, it's been a blast. I'm so glad that we had you and Mitsuru-senpai as our guides; I don't think we would've been able to pull through if it hadn't been for your belief in us . . . and me.

You know, senpai, when I first heard about you from the other girls in my class, I thought that was all you were: a handsome face with a title and skills to keep it. And when I first met you, you became that super-popular senpai that was actually a very vicious person. Even though I knew you were the top of your class, I kept thinking of you as all brawn and no brain, a person that had an exaggerated public image but didn't really amount to much beyond physical strength. It took time, but as I worked with you and fought alongside you and learned more about you, I came to realize that this wasn't the case. I came to realize that senpai was in fact a strong person, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. I mean, not many people can really convict themselves to living by the philosophies you do.

I'll admit though, it was a little weird at first when we hung out, but a little refreshing too. At first you just treated me like a kid, the young leader with a lot of promise but also a lot of setbacks. It was nice to hear that from you . . . "I won't go easy on you just because you're a girl." When I first heard you say that it was mean and sexist, since I thought you were just some insensitive brawler, but eventually I liked to think of it as a challenge, a way of you saying, "I know you can do better than that! Reach for the top!" And you and Mitsuru-senpai had faith in me since the beginning, so it just didn't feel right to not work hard to improve, to get stronger and learn to be the best leader I could be.

By now the silver-haired youth's face had surfed through a number of different expressions, from a faint smile to honest confusion to mild surprise. It was true, it had been quite the ride. He never would have imagined that, with the arrival of a single transfer student, he would be thrust into so strange and exciting a year. It had been so . . . so mundane before. Certainly, there was nothing mundane about the Dark Hour, but for him, who had been through it so many times for so many years, it had just become another thing to do. Go out, punch the oozing black stuffing out of Shadows, go home, punch the sandy white stuffing out of punching bags. Then Mizuki had shown up, and the other juniors and everyone else, and suddenly it wasn't just another year of mulching black goo. And though it got confusing, or difficult, or just plain weird, Akihiko knew that for the rest of his life he would never have an experience as exhilarating as those months had been.

Thinking back, he really had possessed a lot of faith in Mizuki as a potential leader. Junpei had initially voiced his protests about "having a girl as a leader", but the boxer knew better; hell, he knew Mitsuru would've executed - scratch that, she would've murdered - him if he'd said that. And besides, after witnessing what had happened up on the rooftop that fateful April night, how could he not say that she had potential? How could he not urge her to improve, to get stronger, to learn more? Admittedly he probably had tried to push his philosophies on her, but he was glad that she had taken it in stride and taken him up on the challenge. It was probably that highly-adaptable, positive outlook to most everything that had happened to her that made Mizuki such a promising leader.

Hey, hey, by the way, Aki-senpai, you better not go girl-dumb on me, you hear?

Had he been eating or drinking anything he would have done a spit take. That being said, he did choke on his own saliva and had to turn away for a bit in a coughing fit. "Girl-dumb"? Okay, he would confess to not being able to really recognize female emotions, but that was before! He'd gotten better at it, or at least, he liked to think he had. Sometimes he could still see his best friend rolling his eyes though. Thankfully there was no one there to see him blush, but out of habit he covered the lower half of his face with his hand and glared down at the paper.

Just kidding~ But really, don't forget what you learned, okay? Strength isn't just about physical power, and saving others isn't just about protecting them from bodily harm. Besides, it's impossible to protect everyone from everything. Do you know why there is sadness and pain in the world? Because by being broken, we find hidden depths in ourselves that we never knew existed. By knowing apparent defeat, the victories we win taste all the sweeter. And it is by first experiencing suffering, and being comforted from it, that we learn to comfort and support others. That's why you're strong: because you've experienced so much pain and sorrow, but still pick yourself back up.

Words she'd said before. He could remember them, every one of these little passages of strangely profound wisdom that held great truths. They seemed to come at random for Mizuki, but though there were times she would look confused at her own words afterward, she would almost always seem almost purposeful in her delivery of her maxims.

I want to apologize, Aki-senpai. I know you can probably think of one reason, but it's not as simple as that. When I first started to hang out with you, it had been a sort of "Getting to Know You" sort of thing. Trying to connect with people I lived with, trying to understand my teammates . . . you get that, right? Honest, that was all it had been at first. But once when I was hanging out with Junpei-kun, he made mention of something that got me thinking. "A transfer student swoops in and steals the heart of the boy every girl wants." At first I'd just laughed it off as a joke, but then as I got to know you better I considered taking it more seriously. In fact, I'd decided I would seriously pursue you . . . that is, until September.

I'm sure you know what I mean. I originally only thought of hanging out with Shinji because he was your friend, and a bit of a stranger to most of us. I just wanted to get along with him so that the others wouldn't be as afraid of doing the same. But before I knew it, he'd wriggled himself into my heart. I won't lie. I felt horrible, like I was cheating on you even though we never once agreed to or talked about being an item. My decision had been to focus on Shinji because I wasn't worthy of being the girl who would stand at your side. That's why I want to apologize, for leading you on even after October. It was wrong of me to do that, and I'm sorry.

Her writing here was sloppier, and Akihiko could imagine the girl at her desk, biting her bottom lip and forcing her hand to stay steady while trying very very hard not to cry onto the letter. A number of emotions was roiling in his chest, but this time he couldn't seem to decide on a particular one. He wanted to laugh, but it would have been both amused and bitter, somewhere between laughing at her and laughing at himself and choking back a sob. He wanted to feel jealous, but didn't at the same time. The silver-haired male's brow dug furrows as his eyes darkened to storm clouds, betraying the troubling swamp he wrestled with inside.

Of course he knew. Everyone knew, ever since that night when their leader had collapsed to her knees in a sobbing mess as she clung to Shinjirou's inert, wounded body. The leader who had until that point taken everything in stride and faced each and every challenge head on, dissolving into an emotional train wreck. Even Mitsuru's breakdown at her father's death had hardly compared; the only difference was that Mizuki had been damn skilled in hiding all of her depression behind a very convincing "I'm okay, really" and that smiling mask.

The part of him that wanted to feel envious towards his best friend wasn't even fully justifiable. Certainly, his nervousness and worry towards Mizuki whenever they ventured into Tartarus were his symptoms that pointed towards developing feelings for the upbeat junior. And when Shinjirou had rejoined SEES, the then-boxer had been bothered when he'd begun to notice that whenever they'd gone to explore Tartarus, his brunette friend had always been the first person she would take along with her. Her words in the letter meant that he could have very easily called dibs; the only problem was that at that time, he had been too stupid and dense to realize both his and her feelings. In a sense, he'd been given plenty of chances to make the pieces click, but it had taken him practically half a year to realize it. Shinjirou technically had the lower hand, except he'd been much more observant and had been much quicker to recognize and act upon those feelings. If it had been a contest, the gruff fellow would have most definitely won.

Akihiko blinked before realizing that his emotions had caused him to tighten his grip on the letter and had started to crinkle the fine paper. In a slight panic he released the death grip he had, smoothing it out before, after a moment's hesitation, putting it down on his desk and making a beeline for the punching bag that hung in one corner of his room. Ex-boxing champ he may be, but for him, beating the pulp out of something had become a sort of stress therapy. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the heavy thwack of fist against vinyl as the pallid-haired man pounded away at the poor bag. Once he'd calmed down enough, the man retrieved the letter and returned to his spot, breathing slightly laboured from his physical strain.

I want to take this time to thank you as well. Not only for being a teammate in battle and in helping me and the other juniors improve, but also as a friend. I know you had a hard time persuading Shinji to rejoin SEES, but I'm glad you never gave up, for all of our sakes. I have to be fair to you too; I know the others focused on me because of my relationship with Shinji, but I can only imagine the grief you felt at almost losing your best friend. Yet you pushed through it and supported me the whole way, even when I'd practically shot you down and broke your heart. It was your undaunted resolve and added support that helped get me back onto my feet. You reminded me that wallowing solved nothing, that Shinji wouldn't have wanted me wallowing. You helped me find the strength to pick myself back up and face forward. And for that, I can't thank you enough.

For your encouragement, for your support, for your strength, for your trust, for your friendship, for your love, I thank you. Come graduation, you'll be moving on to higher and greater things. Even if you leave Iwatodai, I hope that you will never leave behind the memories and bonds you have created with all of us this year. Keep your head held high, and your heart as strong and firm in resolve as your fists. And above all, remember that in the times you feel weak, that is when you're strongest. I'll always be looking out for you, so lead others with your light. Take care of Shinji and the others for me. When I see your sister, I'll tell her just how amazing her brother has grown up while keeping her in his heart.

Fight on, my shooting star,
Tachibana Mizuki

P.S. - I'm sorry I never got a chance to make hotcakes for you. Thank you for the music box you got me for Christmas; it helped me a lot.

Long minutes ticked by, with only the occasional band of light as a car drove by outside breaking the stillness. The man paid no attention to his surroundings, merely sat there at his desk, staring at the paper in his hands. Gradually his body began to register the emotions raging in his heart, and responded to them. His hands trembled faintly, a vice closed over his heart, squeezed the air out of his lungs, constricted his throat. The silver-haired adolescent didn't think twice, let his body automatically swing the chair around and shot up from it so fast it toppled. His vision blurred and a loud ringing roared in his ears, and in a single wordless cry that raked its painful way up his throat and past his lips, a single white-knuckled fist slammed mercilessly into the sandbag.

Akihiko ignored everything outside his body, and even most of his body altogether. His singular focus was his fists, and even then it was only the sensation of his knuckles crashing into the vinyl. His mind blanked out in an emotional overload, dismissing the sting of his knuckles slowly grazing themselves raw, the hitched near-feral roar that continuously spilled from his lips, the hot saline liquid that rolled down his cheeks. He didn't even register the soft thump of something falling until an alien noise suddenly filled the room.

The first pure note effectively froze his reddened fist in mid-strike, caught off guard by the oddly soothing tone that clashed so jarringly with the maelstrom that thundered within him. As if cured with an Amrita spell, the ex-boxer's mind cleared almost instantaneously, and he whipped around to find the source of the sound.

It lay on the ground amongst a few other things that had fallen due to the haphazard swinging of the sandbag, its smooth varnished lid open as sweet music poured forth. Next to it lay a white rabbit doll, beady red eyes and stitched-on smile grinning blankly at him. Whatever fight the pale-haired male had, it all evaporated as he nearly staggered over to where they lay, his knees giving way and slamming rather painfully into the floor as they dropped there. Fingers trembling, the man reached out to gingerly pick up the music box.

"I think I'll give you something new to put in it every year."

"It looks just like you."

"Thank you for the music box you got me for Christmas; it helped me a lot."

With the care one would give to an invaluable artifact, Akihiko replaced the music box and rabbit back onto their rightful places on the shelf, his hands hesitating to release them before finally dropping to his sides. The gentle melody filled his room, stilling his heart like a balm.

"Mizuki . . ."

It was like a sign from her, a message from beyond the grave. A reminder that she was watching from her place as the Great Seal, guarding them from the Fall, allowing them to live a full, eventful, wonderful life. If he was honest with himself, Akihiko would admit that he wasn't doing that. The next day was just the next day, living life as just something to do, as good as forgetting their promise in the Abyss of Time. In his mind, he could see her expression, the one she had in January as they scoured the depths of Tartarus to prepare for their final showdown with Nyx.

"Shinji's fighting for life from a hospital bed. If we don't stand up for our right to live, who are we to call ourselves different from others? Who are we to call ourselves better than Strega?"

The lid closed with a quiet snap, instantly cutting off the tinkling notes and blanketing the room in silence once more. Polydeuces had become Caesar for a reason. Mizuki had chosen eternity battling humanity's darkness for a reason. He was alive for a reason. Though she was no longer physically there for him to love, just as he had with Miki, he could live for her, and show her his love by doing what she requested of him. Live, live strongly, and live proudly. His fingers lifted to stroke the synthetic fur of the doll, his gaze lingering then sliding over to his bookshelf, where his Evoker and holster lay encased in black velvet.

"Sorry Miki . . . but you'll have to share your brother's fists now. Don't worry, both of you . . . I won't let you down." A soft chuckle. "So you better have a load of hotcakes ready, alright? Living life to the fullest for three people is hungry work."