I'm back! This this went through a few revisions but it has ended with a result that I am somewhat happy with.

Just a fair warning, Minato's hit "unreliable narrator" status. Why do I say that? Oh, you'll see.


"Yuki," the hooded figure spoke to no one in particular; there was no one to listen to him for as long as he remained in this void.

Makoto Yuki—that was the name he chose. One of the interpretations of the name was 'true courage;' it was an ironic name to serve as a reminder of what he had done. One could say that this was his first act of independence, becoming more than just some splintered-off piece of Minato Arisato's soul. Others could say that was his first mistake and the beginning of the end.

Of course, the two were not necessarily mutually exclusive.

The name was nothing more than hollow words now. Minato Arisato was and always will be his name, no matter how much he wants to deny it. Names hold power behind them, and this one is what binds the fragmented soul together.

But now, the name—a lie—was all he had left.

The humanity that still dwells within him; it was nothing but a remnant of Inheritor who had sacrificed himself to save him.

"Save," he mused, wondering if that was the correct word to use.

He was free to do as he will now, but he's wasting it here in a dark void—the gaps between a fractured soul—and waiting for the end to come. Some would call this a waste and perhaps they would be right, but Makoto was content to remain here.

After all, it's not like he had anything to live for now.

Revenge brought him nothing but pain. Pharos was gone, and Kotone was with Foundation, thus cursing him to this lonely existence.

Yet, there's this strange sensation that has been haunting him. Whenever Minato is near Ryoji, there's this peculiar resonance from deep inside. It feels familiar, yet far too numb for him to make an accurate guess as to what it is—almost like feeling an object after the circulation of blood had been cut-off after sleeping on a limb.

Too familiar to be a coincidence but too numb to figure out why. But that isn't his concern anymore; he's a viewer in a theater now. The most he could offer is his prayers, not that they were worth much.


Kyoto, the former capital and popular tourist spot. And now, it's the place that Minato had been dragged to for a school field trip, joined by the likes of Ryoji, Junpei, Akihiko, and almost everyone else from the school.

"Hmm," Minato hummed, looking through the glass of the hotel (or whatever they were staying at) while the teacher went on about rules of expectations. It looks like this place has a hot spring too. That's certainly something worth remembering.

"Get away from him."

Minato clutched his head, feeling the pulsing headache beginning again. Judging by the pain, sleeping was going to be tough tonight.

The groups started to separate with boys going on direction and girls going the other, naturally. From the crowd, he was able to spot Kotone, their eyes briefly meeting as she continued following the rest of the girls.

They still hadn't talked ever since he told her about her mother. She wouldn't approach him nor would he approach her, and how could he? He's an orphan; he wouldn't know anything about abandonment. He wants to say something, but it would probably do more harm than good if he tried to help with something he didn't fully understand.

But that didn't stop her from trying to help him when he needed her. He owes it to her to try, but he doesn't know how to.

"You could still try," the whispers decided to chime in.

Minato shook his head, "I can't."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar brunette about to pass him by. It was a longshot, but it was the best he's got.

"Yukari," he called out to her. It was the best idea he had—she was the only person he knew that could relate to her predicament. But does he have the right to even ask this of her?

No, he doesn't, but he didn't care. He owed Kotone everything, so he had to try everything he could.

There's a shift in her eyes when she looks at him, a reminder that everyone was still wary of him, no matter how much they try to accept him.

"Yeah?" at least she's adept at preventing her voice from quivering around him.

"Talk to her, please," he asked, turning away from the glass so that he was no longer staring at her reflection. "I wanted to, but… but…"

But what? Why does he keep making excuses?

"Just do it, please."

"Um," she blinked, looking a little surprised by the request. Was it too presumptuous to assume that she wasn't planning to do so anyway or Maybe she had and he was too busy wallowing to notice? "O-Okay."

"What?"

"Nothing, just, surprised, I guess?"

He raised an eyebrow, "at what?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "I just never thought you'd come to me."

"I'm an orphan. I don't know anything about abandonment." Is that true, or is that what he wants to think? "You're the only other person I know who has problems with their… you know."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," She agreed, thankfully. Her expression changed from confusion to... concern? "Are you okay?"

"Dumb question to ask me," he scoffed. "I'll be fine. I just… have a lot to think about."

Before anything else could be said, their teacher's voice could be heard berating them for not being in their rooms. Good, this was going somewhere that he didn't like.

"See ya," Minato didn't wait for a reply before leaving. He didn't need that right now—he just needs to be alone for a little while.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Funny—until recently, he's never been alone before.

For the longest time, he always had Pharos with him. Even when he didn't do or say anything, there was a comfort knowing that he was always there.

Before him, however, he had someone else.

"You brood a lot," came the figure that he refused to see, the same one sitting on the bench he passed on his way to his room.

There wasn't any reason to notice the figure. There was no reason to listen to it.

Just ignore it.

"She's waiting for you, you know?"

Always ignore it.

"But you're scared, aren't you?"

Keep the door shut.

"You don't know why, but you are."

Don't ever open it.

"You can tell, can't you?"

Don't look at it.

"It's not your fault."

He didn't pay attention to whatever Ryoji was saying when he walked in or focus on the look of unease on Junpei's face. His only focus was collapsing on the bed.

Sleep couldn't come soon enough.

"Night, big brother."


"Happy birthday."

Makoto glanced to the side, seeing the small boy sitting on the edge of his bed. It had been his birthday today, not that anyone cared to celebrate it.

"You're thirteen now, yes?"

"Yeah," Makoto nodded. That makes this the sixth anniversary of that night—not something he likes to think about, never mind celebrate on. "Thanks."

Pharos smiled, always happy to do something, and receive approval from his friend.

It wasn't often that he saw Makoto smiling despite having been asked to do so by his foster family. Strange, they often refer to him as someone who's 'miserable' despite him being largely the same as he had always been.

"Are you okay?" Pharos asked after a long lingering silence.

"I'm fine," Makoto shrugged. There wasn't anything for him to do now except wait for the next day to come.

Then the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Life was one big waiting game for him. Wait for the next day until an opportunity arises so that he can get what he wants more than anything.

"Hmm," Makoto snapped his fingers to a moment, thinking back to a previous conversation they had had together, "how's that amnesia working out? Remember anything?"

Pharos did not answer, but the glance off to the side told the boy everything he needed to know. "It's fine," he did his best to comfort him, "you'll remember eventually."

"I only remember the end."

"Hmm?"Makoto hummed, "of what?"

"Everything," Pharos answered. "The tolling of bells, bringing about the ultimate end."

"Sounds like a funeral or something," Makoto shrugged. The meaning wasn't lost on him, but he didn't care for it. So what if the world goes to hell? There's not much left for him anyway.

His family would be disappointed in him for thinking that, but they're gone now. The only one left who could feel disappointed in him is himself.

"Any idea what'll happen to you?" Makoto asked, lying down on his bed letting out a drawn-out groan. Sleep was so tempting right now.

Pharos, however, could only shake his head. The details were so fuzzy, no matter how hard he tried to recall them. The harder he tried, the more everything seemed to slip away.

"But don't worry," he assured the weary bluenette, "I'll always be with you."

"If you say so."


He should have seen it coming. It was foolish of him to see otherwise. The moment Mitsuru pulled him aside from the normal tour of the city, he knew where this was going.

After everything he endured and had done, it was only fitting that he would want to see him again after all this time. Minato couldn't help but mull over how he was supposed to feel about that.

He couldn't hold the grudge against him―not anymore. That part of his life is over and has been over ever since Pharos left and Makoto retreated back to the dark corners of their soul.

But what should he do then, absolve him? Is that even what he wants him to say? It would only be fair one could argue; the exoneration of one sin for another―one family ruining another, only for the sole survivor to attempt to exact revenge.

No amount of thinking was going to answer that. The questions would continue to remain, even as the car that they were in began to stop, having brought them to one of Kirijo's buildings, though Minato had no idea what the official purpose of this one was for.

"Arisato," his name still sounded force whenever it came from her lips, no doubt still used to Makoto's name, "I'd like to reiterate, you don't―"

"I know," he interrupted. There's a part of her that he knows wants this, but she also doesn't want to force him―he's the victim of her family's crimes to her, but not vice versa. "There's something I need to see."

There's one question that has been tugging at the back of his mind ever since Makoto receded; he needed an answer, no matter how horrible it may be.

And that's what brought him here, sitting in a chair across from the man himself, Takeharu Kirijo. To think, such an important man, yet he booked a visit to Kyoto just to see him. If there was one thing that Minato could no longer doubt, it was the genuineness of remorse.

Between them was a lingering silence; neither knowing how to speak to the other.

On one side of the room, lay the man whose family was the cause of everything. Pharos waking up, Minato's family dying, his soul fracturing, the Dark Hour―everything. The guilt he must bear was no-doubt palpable.

And there was him. What was there to say? How much could be blamed on him and the rest on Makoto; should he bear all the responsibility, some, or none? He may be a victim, but that doesn't erase what he had done.

It was Minato who decided to be the first to speak up, "How's Aigis?"

Aigis. He tries not to think about her. If Takeharu condemned himself this much, then she must be beyond hurting knowing what she did to him.

Strange, when did he come to care about a robot―a thing?

"The damage caused to her chassis left several complications," Takeharu answered, "however, enough of her core systems were intact enough that repairs were possible. Final repairs are currently underway."

"That's good." That's one less casualty to add to the list. Was he ready to mourn a robot? His world certainly was a strange one.

Takeharu squinted his eyes, perhaps to observe the subtle differences between Minato and Makoto―how they talked, looked, the way they slouched, and the expressions they wore. They were so similar, yet so different at the same time.

"Right," Minato scoffed, shaking his head. "I forgot. You never met me before, did you?"

"No, I don't believe I have," he replied with a weary sigh, "but I suppose there's a lot of you I did not know about before, did I?"

"No, you didn't," he wasn't able to catch the chuckle in time. "Makoto didn't really care about what happened to Mitsuru, not really. At most, he just wanted to use her to hurt you."

There's a faint sense of surprise that appeared on Takeharu's face when he said that. That surprise faded as quickly as it came, however, soon giving way for self-loathing that Minato knew all too well.

"From my understanding, you killed Ikutsuki as well, yes?"

"Yeah," Minato had a long list of regrets; the death of Ikustuki wasn't one of them. "He was there. Phar―Death, that thing your family woke up, remembered him. It took some time, but he remembered him… and I made him pay."

"Mitsuru claims that he also had plans to betray them," he affirmed which Minato assured with a nod, "in that case, I believe I should thank you."

"For what? I did it for selfish reasons."

"You still helped keep my daughter from danger."

"Tch," Minato shook his head, "do you mind? I'm trying to regret my life choices."

"If you want―"

"No," the denial was immediate, "went to see people before. I hated it every time."

How ironic, both Minato and Makoto hate when people try to help them except when one person didn't give him a chance to say no.

"I understand." Did he? Minato can't help but wonder. "But this other you―Makoto I believe his name was―what happened to him?"

Minato shrugged, "gone, I suppose."

"Gone?"

"It's hard to explain," Minato looked down at his feet, swinging in the air with every small kick, "a piece of me broke that day―fractured into three pieces with Death filling the gaps in between. I'm the first, so I guess I'm the closest to the 'real' one."

"And the others?"

"That's where it gets a little complicated," he chuckled, "we had our own names for each other; I'm the first, so I'm the Foundation, Makoto was the Prince, and the last one kept using the name 'Minato,' so we took to calling him 'Inheritor.'"

"And this third one?" Takeharu asked, "what happened?"

"Dead," the answer was instant. Makoto was gone in a sense, but there wasn't any ambiguity with him; he was gone forever now. "He died stopping Makoto's rampage. I don't know how or what he did, but… there's nothing left of him. And Makoto? He's just given up, just like I did for all these years until I was the last one left."

"I see," there wasn't any judgement in his voice nor any resentment, only… pain? "Even now, my family continues to haunt yours."

"I don't care anymore," he sighed, leaning back in his chair and slinking down slightly, "I'm tired of it all. One's dead, one's given up, my family's gone, and my best friend stabbed me in the back. I just want…"

Hmm, what did he want?

There was nothing left for him to do anymore. Pharos was gone. Makoto was gone. Without either of them, his persona-abilities were hardly even a shell of what they were―they were likely less than the entirety of SEES now.

The only thing left for him would be to pick up whatever pieces Makoto left behind, but there weren't many. Everywhere he goes, he would be addressed by that name, allowing the shadow to continue looming over him for the rest of his days.

Makoto never had a plan. The thought of what would come next was always at the back of his mind, yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not think of anything for him. The only thing he wanted―the only thing he cared about―was for the nightmares to stop.

So what was left for him now; him, the coward who left his sister to die and is now confronting the head of the family responsible for it all?

"Never mind," he hissed through his teeth, although who/what was the intended subject was left a mystery as he stood from his seat, looking down at the man across from him. "I don't blame you if that's what you want to hear."

Is it; he doesn't look convinced by his words.

"For now, I want to be left alone. I'm tired of dealing with shadows or the Dark Hour or whatever goddamn thing comes next," he declared, making his way towards the door. "Do yourself a favor and worry about what matters instead of wasting your time on me."

A waste of time; is that what he thought he was? And is that all he can think about; him and his misery? Pathetic.

But he was already gripping the door handle; he was in too deep now. There wasn't any going back for either of them; that point had long since passed but that's no reason not to try.

"For what it's worth," he said, still gripping the handle and refusing to look back, "I'm sorry for what I did to Mitsuru. I never wanted to hurt her. I was just… angry and…"

Damn, his voice is cracking. This isn't good.

Takeharu doesn't interrupt, even as the boy, he was left taking several deep breaths in an effort to keep his mask from crumbling completely.

"The things he did to me…" But he's just looking for excuses.

"It hurt so much…" he brought it on himself.

"Makoto…" Why talk like his sins aren't his own as well? Minato's the one Makoto spawned from, and he's the one who continued loathing himself as Makoto went on a rampage without even trying to stop it.

He's just as guilty, if not more so. He can't forgive himself, but his guilt harms others and compounds it further.

Again and again in an endless cycle of agony and loathing. May it never end.

"I'm sorry," were the only honest words that he could think to say before he almost threw himself out the door. It was too much. It was too painful to look at a man suffering for what he did; it was too painful to look in that mirror.

But a mirror provided nothing more than a reflection; the terrible truths he could not bear to see were still there, lingering like the clouds above―lingering like the ghost whose eyes were glued to his back.

"Minato…"

Some truths were harder to face than others, however. His family was gone; he would never be able to say his goodbyes, hug or be hugged by them again, or tell them how much he loved them. It was a sad truth but one he had accepted long ago.

"Minato…"

His name is Minato Arisato; he left his sister to die, he tried to kill the one he loved, and he was betrayed by his longest friend. It was a truth that was even more painful than the last but he had no choice. Now that Makoto was gone, there was no running away from who he was or what he did.

"Minato…!"

Some truths, however, he could never accept. He could never accept who he heard calling his name, or that he had heard anything at all.

The confirmation of existence is the ultimate truth something may have, and it was one that he was unable to give.

There was so much already―too many doors have been opened, each being more painful than the last.

So what would be lying at the end of this one―the final door calling to him?

"Minato, wait!" called a voice that made him stop in his tracks.

He was about to leave, but now he was already turning around facing the heiress of the man he hated for so long. Life truly did love to play games with him.

"Strange," he mused, allowing her to catch up to him, "you've never done that before."

The confused look she gave him was only natural, "what?"

"My name," he replied, "you said my first name."

There was a moment of surprise on her face, likely from her not expecting him to draw attention to what she had said/done. It wasn't like she was used to consulting with a lunatic like him yet.

"Never mind that," he thought it best to move on, "what is it? Did your father tell you to find me before I leave?"

"No," she denied. There was no reason to doubt her. "Are you all right?"

She's worried about him? Why wouldn't she? She had to keep an eye on him before the worse could happen.

"I don't blame him," he answered the question she had but did not ask. "That's what you wanted to know, right?"

"What?" she blinked.

"It's okay," he assured her, "Makoto and I both knew. Repenting for your family's crimes? That's not what you want—not really. You wanted your father back, not the old shell sitting in that room."

There was more confusion emanating from her but she did not dare to refute him. She knew better than to try. Or was she so bewildered that a rebuttal was unable to form? Did he care enough to tell the difference?

No, he doesn't. He wants to leave.

This place was a gateway to somewhere he swore to never return to. He needed to leave before he was in too deep.

How long has he been standing there? Minutes or seconds? Every time he blinks, the world seems to fast forward; shadows are moving from one angle to another—shifting into mocking smiles directed at him, taunting him, laughing at him…

It never ends.

"What do you want?" Minato spat, taking a step back and the world began to spin around him. The lights were flashing, his breathing labored, and a looming sense of dread was hanging over him. "What do you want?! What does everyone want from me?!"

Isn't it obvious what they want?

"I try, I try, I try, I try," he kept sputtering, skull-splitting and darkness crept from the corners of his vision.

Try

Try

Try

Try

Try

Try

Rtry

Yrrt

Ytr

Tyr

Ytr

Ryt

Sense

Sense

Nonsense

Nonsense

Nonse

Nonse

Nonse

None

None

None

None

None

None

None

None but him.

None

None

None

No one

No one

No one

No one but him left that bridge that day.

No one but him controls his body now.

So when did he end up here?

So many people all around.

No roof.

No walls.

No Kirijo.

No one.

Nonsense.

Nothing makes sense!

Nothing!

Nothing!

Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!

Nothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothing

Stop.

Stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Make it stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Stop

Ha

He he

Ha

He

HA

HA

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH

Funny.

So funny.

The irony is funny.

People learn from mistakes.

You learn so that they cannot be repeated.

Yet, here Makoto is.

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

Minato

Makoto

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

What's the difference?

Same sins.

Same body.

Same victims.

Same memories.

Same flashes.

Same nightmares.

So funny

So funny

So funny

So funny

Legless chair

Eyeless face

Pinkyless hand

Reflectionless mirror

Keyless lock

Siblingless twin

Parentless child

Burning flesh

Chilling air

Three minds

Three souls

One whole

One corpse

Two left

Why him?

Ringing bells

Expecting mother

Funny

So funny

Get a life

Watch it crumble

All alone

Kotone won't hold him now.

He betrayed Pharos.

Pharos betrayed him.

Broken promises

Ticking clock

He can feel it

But he denies it

Who denies it?

Who feels it?

The end

The end

The end

Where is he?

Who is he?

When is he?

What is he?

What?

Who?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why does he have to lose everything again?

Why doesn't it stop?

Why won't the pain go away?

Why does the guilt stay?

Why?

Why?

Why did it have to be him?

Why did he have to be the one to survive?

Why won't Makoto finish him off?

Why couldn't Pharos finish him off?

Why couldn't he have burned that day?

But he can fix that now.

He can make all the pain go away.

He only needs to die.

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die like he deserves.

Die as she did.

Die like the people he hurt.

Die like his family.

Die as the rest will.

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

Die

DIE

DIE

DIE

DIE

DIE

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"Minato."

A familiar voice called out to him. No anger, malice, nor any sort of judgement. The only discernible emotion was… regret?

But that voice was dangerous. Acknowledging its mere existence was dangerous.

He was sitting on a bench in a place too dark to make out, but he did not dare to lift his head from his blood-soaked hands. His hands were dry, yet wet. The blood was there yet stained nothing but his skin.

Get it together.

He had to.

Ignore the presence he feels sitting beside him. There's nothing there. There hasn't been anything there for a long time.

"I know you don't want to listen to me right now," the voice was so soft, "but that's alright."

So sweet…

So comforting…

"I never blamed you, you know," kind words were words—meaningless. He had no reason to listen to them. "It hurt a lot, watching what happened to you before."

Hurt.

Pain.

Why was there so much pain?

Why did he taste salt in his mouth?

What's this warmness streaming down his face?

"I didn't do anything then. I thought I'd only hurt you more." If everything hurts, then nothing should hurt.

So why does every waking moment feel like hell? Why doesn't the pain ever end?

There's nothing beside him. He doesn't feel arms holding him tightly. He doesn't hear someone crying, apologizing for doing nothing for so many years.

It's hard not to listen.

It's so hard to move on.

He's too weak to face the past, but he can't outrun it either.

He can't run. He can't hide. He can only rot as he did.

"Never again," he doesn't hear that promise being made, "I won't let it happen to you again, big brother."

Big brother.

Turning his head, Minato saw nothing but an empty space.

But he wasn't alone.

The lights were on now. Students were everywhere, gathering up to prepare for the ride home.

Going home already? What?

"Dude…"

Minato turned his head again, this time in the direction of a voice that could only belong to Junpei, accompanied by Ryoji and Akihiko, all having shocked expressions on their faces.

"Are… you okay?" Ryoji asked, seemingly at a loss for words.

Akihiko seemed to be much the same, taking several moments before he could work up the courage to ask, "have… you moved at all since yesterday?"

Is that how long he's been here? What must Mitsuru have thought?

What does anyone think?

So many people.

So many thoughts.

Too tired.

The only response Minato could give was a slight shrug. His eyes were burning and red with bags forming beneath them.

His eyes felt so heavy, yet refused to close. When he closed them, he saw the fire again. No more. Just no more.

Everything was becoming muffled. The room didn't darken, yet everything outside the immediate vicinity began to lose detail, becoming a blurring mess. Everyone began looking like the same, faceless dolls as they continued to gather.

A muffled scream reaches his ears. Looking up slightly, he saw the boys had turned around, almost cowering before the girls who all looked each had an irritated look on their face.

What did they do? It was probably something juvenile. Strange how the world continues so easily without him, no matter how childish the event.

Ryoji, in particular, seems to be in a panic. He does something; he brushes his hair down, taking a seat next to the bluenette and says, "Which one of us is the real Minato Arisato?"

What was he doing?

The real Minato Arisato? That was a good question. Who was the real—

Wait…

What…?

No one else catches it.

Whether they're too angry or scared to notice, they don't catch it. They had begun to become so accustomed to calling him by that name that it doesn't stick out as it should.

Minato Arisato.

He shouldn't know that.

He can't know that.

Everyone calls him Minato now. That's fine. That can be a nickname or have some story to it. It's a habit he easily could have picked up.

But Arisato? No, no one knows that except those that know his past. When Makoto first attended this school, he used his name, Makoto Yuki.

There's no trace as to who he is. There is no trace of Minato Arisato.

So how can he know?

How can he be so familiar?

Those eyes…

That beauty mark…

His face…

No…

No...

How..?

But if that's true…

Then that means…

"Didn't I tell you?"

Minato's blood turned cold when the voice reached him. In front of him was a small boy smiling back at him.

"I'm always with you."


Can we get a new Minato? I think this one is broken. I mean, shit, I didn't even plan on him having a—What the hell is that banging?!

*falls out of the closet*

*Deep breath*

Oh, you two. I thought I outgrew you.

Why the fuck did you keep us in a closest?!

Because fuck you.

Hey now, it's not all bad. We were practicing isolation.

That's right, Kotone. Self-isolation is important. In other words, the world is going to hell. Stay inside if you can help it. This is not the flu. This a major world event that will have ramifications for years to come. Stay inside. Wash your hands. And for fuck's sakes, stop posting about robbing people for toilet paper!

Side note: reviews had been pretty low lately :c I mean, it's not surprising. This probably isn't the direction everyone wants it to go in and things are kinda a mess at the moment. But still, someone? Anyone? At least tell me if I nailed the madness mantra Minato had! I had a lot of fun writing it.