So! Early again because I can't not post this even though I have test in a few days lol.

*chuckle* I'm in danger

VII: The Wild Chariot

Chariot: Direction, Control, Willpower

Reversed Chariot: Lack of Control, Lack of Direction, Aggression

Aragaki is a really nice person.

Makoto is glad he gets to know him like he does.

What is not nice, however, is when he learns just how overprotective the man is, especially towards him, of all people.

"Yuuki, c'mere a sec," The man calls, waving him over. Sometimes (a lot of times) (most of the time?) his therapy sessions would run a bit late, and Aragaki would be the one to pick him up. He doesn't mind that, but having Aragaki fussing over him is so wrong on so many levels.

He shrugs and discards the thoughts before walking over, tugging his school bag carefully under an arm. When he reaches the man, he gets a soft head pat before getting a look from the taller man.

"…What?"

"I saw the way you look at her at the festival," The man hums.

"Fuck."

"Yep, you ain't all that discreet, Yuuki. Why don't you just tell her?" He asks as they start walking towards the station.

He works his jaws a little — he could still feel the drugs' side effects, that's just great — and tries to think of a way to deflect that question. The look the older boy is giving him, however, is discouraging him from doing just that. He groans into his own hand before mumbling. "You, of all people, should know best why."

Another hum. "True. Still, I think the feelings are mutual between you two."

"I know," He says. It's hard to miss the way she's now actively seeking his hand whenever they're alone, or the way she'd blush when looking at him for too long, or the way she cares. It hurts. It hurts like hell. "But I can't."

"You deserve love, you know," Aragaki says as he looks up at the moon, now nothing but a thin crescent of light in the sky. When he says nothing, the man adds. "You taught me that yourself."

"Not this kind of love," He whispers. "I'm fine with friendships. Hell, I'm even fine with brotherhood. But not this kind of love. I don't want to kill another person by getting too close."

He doesn't even know he is shaking until Aragaki puts his strong but gentle arm around his shoulders, hugging him, stabilizing him, calming him down. He exhales a few times to get his raging pulses under control, fists clenched into balls, nails digging deep into his own flesh, deepening the scars further.

"I know," Aragaki says, patting his shoulder lightly in assurance. "I know."

He bites back whatever feeling is trying to break free from his chest and chews on his tongue until the familiar scent of steel reaches his nose. "I want to, so bad. I want to be there. I want to always be there, but I'm going to drag her to hell with me if I do, and I can't allow it to happen."

"I know you won't." Aragaki states. They stop when they reach the platform, and the older boy pats his head a bit more, ruffling his hair softly. "Yuuki, their deaths weren't on you. Death doesn't follow you around—"

"But it does," He hisses through gritted teeth. "All the people I love are dead because I was there. I don't want to lose another person like that."

"Death does not follow you around," He snaps, and forcefully turns his head so he'd have to look into Aragaki's eyes as he continues in a low voice, his chest rumbling as if Castor is shifting and turning inside. "It is everywhere and nowhere. You didn't put a noose around their necks or point a gun to their heads. They died while you were with them, but none of it is your fault."

He wants to tear his eyes away, but he can't.

"Their deaths are unfortunate, but you ain't the one to blame. Do you think they'd want you to live like this? Alone and scared?"

"I don't know," He murmurs. He doesn't want to think about any of this. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

"Just sleep on it, 'kay?" Aragaki hums, patting his head again before pulling his arm away. "I'll treat you to a warm dinner, and no, I ain't letting your sorry, skinny ass refuses."

He could only let out a chuckle at that. "Okay… thank you, Aragaki-senpai."

"Thank you, too, for givin' me a reason," He says.

A reason to live.

Makoto doubts that, but he doesn't say it.

Because he wants to believe that, just for a moment, even if it is a lie.

Summer is slow.

He spends half of it going to therapy, the other half just hanging out with mostly Aragaki to talk about things only he would understand. Being able to open up about the things he regrets doing, or the things that make him numb and cold, or the things that make him panic, helps. The older boy is a good listener, and a great shoulder to lean on.

However, he still couldn't really wrap his head around what the older boy had said. He thinks the concept is not dissimilar to him, since he himself urges Aragaki to do just that, but him deserving love is a different topic entirely.

Aragaki killed a human being because Castor, not him, went berserk. He did neither willingly nor consciously wring the life out of Amada's mother slowly and painfully with his own hands. He's still paying the price for his mistakes (mistakes, and not murders) of his own free will. As for Makoto? He's still left to his own devices, the only toll he has to pay is his mental health (which is easy to ignore) and maybe a bit of his sanity.

He understands where Aragaki is getting at, but he doesn't accept it.

"Love, huh…"

He loves Yukari. That is a painfully obvious truth no longer deniable by his heart and soul. And he is fine feeling, but not acting, that way. She deserves better than a piece of broken glass that would only cut and make her bleed needlessly. She deserves to love someone else that would be able to take care of her, and not the other way around.

He can't do any of that for anyone. He shifts and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He has to wonder what they saw in him to actually take him into the SEES in the first place, or to put him as the team leader when his mental capacity is at rock bottom. He doesn't understand the level of concern they're showing him – he could understand Aragaki's as an attempt at redemption, maybe.

But he could never understand Yukari. He could never understand the reason why she'd show such level of care, of love, of things he doesn't deserve, of things he shouldn't have. Every time he tries to question it, she would always reply that the reasons are not necessary to save someone.

They are always necessary, in his mind. Always, no matter who you are, no matter who the other person might be.

Before his thoughts can go any further, there's a knock on his door. He gets up with a small sigh before heading towards the door and open it, only to be met with the subject of his torment. His sun. So bright and scorching.

"Hey," Yukari says, fidgeting on her feet slightly.

"Hey," He replies softly, eyes carefully gauging her reactions. It's been almost two weeks after the summer festival, and he finds that she's been coming to his room or catching him when he's loitering in the lounge a lot more often than maybe she should. And her reasons? "Can I help you?"

There is only one thing that she would ask of him, and while his head knows he should refuse, his heart doesn't (couldn't).

"Um… the usual, if you don't mind?"

I do mind, he thinks absently, but couldn't bring himself to say it. Every time, the thought would come up, and it would disappear into the sea of words he never gets to say out loud. He inwardly smacks himself in the face, but outwardly gives her a small smile and steps away from the door.

He thinks she's way too familiar with his room, maybe even more so than the kitchen, but he has already rescinded his rights to complain when he allows her in the first… four times, he thinks. She just smiles back at him as she makes herself right at home, walking towards his bed and sitting down, leaning back with both arms propping herself up, legs kicking the air leisurely.

He closes the door then walks over to join her, sitting with only a bit of space between them. Silence fills the atmosphere as sounds of the crickets and the TV he left on fills the background. They sit like that, still and quiet, for maybe a few minutes before she gently puts her hand over his left (it's always his left, and he never asks why) and pulls it to her lap.

She claims playing with his hand helps with whatever problem she's having. Sometimes it's stress, other times it'd be her mother. (He did talk with her about her mother's issues a few times, and he thinks he's getting through. Maybe he just needs a bit more time). But lately, she doesn't even try to give him a reason for doing this, just giggling and smiling at him while she caresses the scars with care and sends chills and shivers and electricity up his arm and down his spine.

He likes the feeling, maybe too much for his own good. He wants to keep his distance, but he can't, because he's afraid of losing her as a friend. He couldn't refuse, because he's afraid she would go away, that she would leave and never come back. But each and every time she does this, the louder the voice in his head is bellowing at him that it's getting out of control, that he should cut the ties before she's too close, that he should save her while she's still far enough away from him.

His train of thoughts is derailed into oblivion as she starts massaging his palm, pressing at all the right spots and forcing his body to relax almost against his will. He sighs, content, and flexes his fingers slightly.

She giggles and pushes his fingers open with hers, before finally, finally interlacing their digits together, pressing her own soft palm against his as she gives it a light squeeze. "You look like you enjoyed that."

I did. "You think so?"

"Mhm, because you were smiling. You still are."

He frowns a little, but decides not to ask about it. He doesn't really want to embarrass himself any more than he should. "I see."

She only smiles before she turns his hand over, fingers tracing along his thumb and up to his wrist. She doesn't bother asking for permission anymore and just unfasten the strap of his watch and runs her fingers along his fresh self-made stigmata. "Do they hurt?"

"No," He replies. They only sting a little bit, sometimes. He read up human anatomy just to make sure that the damage won't last. If he's not able to appear normal (or fight, now that he's with the SEES), it would not have been a good way to… clear his head.

"You haven't made any new ones, right?"

He pauses.

And she catches on right away. "…Makoto?"

He sighs and pulls his hand away before rubbing at his own wrist, at the scar that's usually neatly hidden underneath his watch, before he traces his own hand up his arm and to the crook of his elbow. And then he points at it; a small, 1-cm long cut too imperceptible to be noticed at a glance.

"…Why?" She asks, pulling the elbow towards her and takes a good look at the cut. Her voice is trembling, and it looks like she's on the verge of crying. "I thought you're better now?"

"…The therapy's stressful," He murmurs. It's not a lie, but it's only half truth, maybe even less. The main reason he's doing this is to keep his head straight.

He can't allow himself to get any closer to her than he already is. It's far too dangerous.

"Can't you just talk to me about it or something?" She mumbles, touching the wound carefully.

I can't. "Okay. I'll do that later."

He thinks she's looking strangely at him, but he ignores it, and in the end, she decides to continue playing with his hand. Neither of them speaks any more words for the night.

The Full Moon Shadow can go suck a dick.

Again, Makoto might've been a bit too fond of that expression, but he really doesn't care anymore.

His whole body hurts like hell. The thing kept trying to fire lightning bolts at Yukari, which prompted him to prioritize protecting her over himself. He's lucky that Aragaki packs quite a serious punch, and is the keystone to bringing the Hermit Shadow down tonight. If not for him, things might've gone to shit much, much sooner.

However, no happiness ever last.

He doesn't know what's the trigger (yet), but after a moment, Aragaki suddenly steps back, hands on his chest. He ignores the burns in his lungs and the jolts of electricity through his body as he gets to his feet, his hand to his Evoker in a heartbeat. And Aragaki knows – he turns to Makoto, and mouths the few words he said he wished he would never need to say.

Stop me.

He fires his Evoker against his temple at the same time Castor manifests against Aragaki's wish. It rears back and bellows, stomping and crushing the Shadow to pieces before it flies up and towards Amada. Oumitsunu responds to his will and jumps forward, standing in Castor's way and pushing it back. He runs over to Aragaki and pulls him out of the way as his Persona and the one-legged knight crash.

"Senpai!" He snaps, a hand firm on the older boy's shoulder, another gripping his Evoker tight. Castor, as expected, hit like a runaway freight train. If he's any weaker, he'd be dead in a heartbeat. "You have to reign him in."

"I can't!" Aragaki gasps.

"Bullshit!" He snaps. And when the man looks up at him, he points at himself. "Persona is a part of you! It is you! You can control it. Believe me!"

"But—"

He grabs both of Aragaki's shoulders and forces the older boy to look him in the eyes. "I would know. I, of all people, would know. You can't control it because you're angry at yourself. You hate yourself. So it responds by going berserk, because its anger and hatred come from you!"

Aragaki's eyes widen. He got the message.

You have to forgive yourself, before you can control your anger – before you can control Castor.

"It doesn't have to be now," He whispers, only for the man to hear. "But you have to. You must. I'll help, so you can lean on me, too."

He doesn't wait for the answer before he turns against the raging Castor, and fires his Evoker again. This time, he calls for his original Persona, Orpheus. If Aragaki's going to tame the personification of his own self-hatred and anger, he needs to know that someone will be there to help him through it.

Makoto doesn't like exposing himself like this. But he knows he's the only one who understands the pain the older boy is experiencing, the guilt he's going through. Makoto's case might not be the same as his, but he can understand. They're different, yet they're the same.

"You and your freakishly annoying martyr-complex ass…" Aragaki mutters, trying to keep his breathing steady. His hand fumbles for the axe as he gets up and stands beside him. Makoto spies Sanada nodding at them before pulling out his own Evoker. "I guess you're right. But you're gonna have to forgive yourself, too, or you're going to be one big fucking hypocrite."

I already am one, though. "Fine," He murmurs, a frown on his face. He won't, he knows that much, but he still has to make that promise if he's going to actually save the man from himself.

A second later, all hell breaks loose.

Castor's rampages seem to have been amped up a notch or two, and despite the SEES's best effort, containing it is much harder than a Full Moon Shadow, partly because of how fast it is. He barely manages to drag Amada – who's staring at Aragaki with the realization he knows is going to come sooner or later – out of harm's way. He shouts at Yukari to take care of the boy before ducking under the single hooves of the unchained Persona.

"Aki, don't tell me that you've lost your edges already!?" Aragaki shouts, as if to provoke his best friend as he axes the flying debris away from his face.

"Oh shut up, Shinji—"

"This isn't the time, you idiots!" Kirijou cuts them all off as Penthesilea manifests and covers Castor in a large, frigid cloud, slowing its movement down. He shivers at the mere memory of the ice covering his arms and legs, but quickly shoves it away.

He needs to bring Castor down in one hit, or it's going to escape him. But how—

Oh. Oh.

Cold, almost frozen-solid air. And fire.

A large shockwave from rapidly expanding air and rising temperature.

A self-made thermal explosion.

"Everyone!" He bellows, drawing their attentions to him as he summons Orpheus one more time. As he gets close, he orders for an attack that would effectively ends the fight. And his life, if he miscalculates even a little. "Get down, open your mouth, and cover your ears!"

They look confused (and he doesn't blame them), but much to his relief, they listen. Everyone gets to their knees, mouths slightly ajar, hands firm against their ears and temples as they watch him. He glances at Yukari, whose face turns from confusion, to realization, to fear, in two seconds flat. She knows what he's planning exactly.

He mouths a sorry before turning his attention to Castor.

They're tired, he's injured, and ordering Orpheus to use Agilao requires a certain level of concentration from his part, because if he places the initial explosion wrong, they could all get flattened against the walls and die as bloody splatters on the concrete.

He's going to have to be the only one who can't defend against the blast. At all.

And does he care, if he can save a life? Of course not.

"Agilao!"

A tiny spark forms an inch from Castor's face, and then, it explodes.

He remembers being sent flying, and then, nothing.

When he wakes up, his ears are ringing, his vision hazy, and he's hurt all over.

He groans and tries to move, but hands are pinning him down. He could feel his ribs crackling and groaning at every breath, and it hurts. It hurts like he's been beaten up by iron sticks. His ears can't pick up shit, and his head is pounding, as if Castor is pissed and is striking against the inside of his skull with the thundering hoof and the angered roar.

Someone's talking. A lot of someone's talking and yelling, but the blast was too bright and his eyes still couldn't adjust while his ears are practically useless. He feels something wet and warm dripping down from his ears, and he tries to put his hand to it, to feel what's happening. Someone stops him, so he doesn't fight back. He blinks, trying to at least see what the hell's going on, but his eyes refuse to cooperate.

Someone then carefully cups at his cheek – ow, that stings – and he tries to look ahead, squinting his eyes slightly. He sees pink, so he guesses that it's Yukari. She's saying something, but he couldn't quite make it out, so he just shakes his head and tries to point at his ears again. This time, she seems to get the message, and the hand on his face is gone.

He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing. One thing at a time – that's how it always is. When he's in pain, trying to focus on doing something basic first keeps him calm. He feels a strong hand patting his head constantly, and he guesses it's Aragaki, since he thinks he's familiar with this feeling. He doesn't really mind it, since it keeps his thoughts off of the pain that's growing more and more noticeable, to the point of being almost too much.

When he opens his eyes a bit more, he could see a little clearer, and it's Aragaki that's petting his head, as he's suspected. When the man catches his eyes, he mouths slowly, carefully, making sure that he'd be able to pick the words out. Thank you.

He smiles slightly, and murmurs a You're Welcome that he could feel rumbling painfully in his skull. He could still hear his own voice, so he figures his eardrums must've ruptured from the blast.

Aragaki and Sanada helps him sit up, and he groans again, a hand on his face as his vision swims. He doesn't dare to move much, and settles for staying how he is, with Aragaki steadying and keeping him up. He then spies Yukari by his side, looking relieved. She then places a careful hand on his right ear and starts healing it, probably. The light warms his skin, and he nods, murmuring a thank you to her.

He isn't sure how long he stayed like that, but when she pulls her hand away, he thinks he could hear a bit better. It still hurts, though, and the voices sound like they're speaking from far, far away. After a brief pause, he murmurs. "Fuck."

"Really," Aragaki says with a low chuckle. "After getting blasted by your own explosion, and getting healed by Takeba, the first thing you can think of saying is a Fuck."

"Yes," He mumbles. "…Sorry."

"You should be," She crosses her arms. It looks like she wants to hit him, but thinks better of it. "There should've been some other ways to go about that. Did you really need to set off an explosion? And getting caught in it yourself?"

"Kinda," He mumbles, wincing at every word. His ears are screaming at him to stop talking and listening, but he still has to. "Castor's fast. Gotta put it out in one hit or we're going to be thrown into a pain train."

"He's right," Aragaki murmurs, apologetic. He gives the man a subtle smile, and he responds with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "But I wish you'd be able to think of a better way than that."

"No time to waste," He whispers.

"True," The man hums. "Well, let's get you to the hospital first thing first. For now, get some rest."

He doesn't have it in him to argue.

And he couldn't bring himself to face Yukari as she's giving him a scornful look, either.

When he wakes up again, it's morning.

Not unexpectedly, Aragaki is sitting right next to his bed, reading something. He groans and forces himself to sit up, and is immediately pushed back down as the older boy grumbles at him. After a moment of complete stillness, Makoto murmurs. "…Morning."

"Afternoon, you dipshit," He mutters. "How're you feeling?"

He takes a moment to take in his surrounding and feeling his senses. His whole body is aching, and his mind is a bit on the slow side – probably the painkillers – although his ears are in a much better shape than… whenever the last time he's awake was. He frowns a little. "Groggy."

"Should be, with how much pain meds you're on," Aragaki says quietly. Makoto turns his head towards the bedside table, and spies a vase of pink flowers, most of which he couldn't name. As if noticing his unsaid question, Aragaki continues. "Takeba visited yesterday."

"Wait," He stops the man. "How long was I out?"

"Three days."

"…Fuck."

"Yeah, really, be more careful with your life, Yuuki," Aragaki heaves out a sigh before dragging his chair a bit closer to his bed and puts a careful hand in his hair, ruffling it, like usual. He couldn't find it in him to protest, so he doesn't. "You're precious to us, you know."

He doesn't respond. He's always thought of himself as someone expendable, so the concept of him being precious is still a bit new. He remembers being both surprised and terrified at the aspect of being important to someone when Yukari said that to his face. He doesn't know what he's feeling, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all.

At his silence, Aragaki just sighs and shakes his head. "You know, I know you've said this before, but you ain't replaceable. Hell, you're like a fucking annoying little brother to me, so take better care of yourself."

"…Okay."

"And what the hell is with that off-hand comment, huh?" Aragaki growls. "Take my words seriously for a minute, would you?"

He grits his teeth slightly and looks away.

The silence is heavy and physically painful. He doesn't dare say anything, because acknowledging that he might be significant to someone (he knows he already is, to a certain someone) means that they're too close, and they might get hurt because of him, again. But instead of getting angry, or whatever he was expecting, the older boy just smiles at him sadly.

"Yuuki, I know you still can't fully accept it, but you are an irreplaceable life, like the rest of us. So be kinder to yourself, like how you told me to. Don't be a hypocrite and give life to a person while discarding your own. That ain't a way to save someone."

He takes some time to think on it, but still, he couldn't fully accept it. "…I'll think about it."

"That's good enough for now," Aragaki murmurs. "Anyways, I noticed how Amada's looking at me. He realized, huh?"

"It's inevitable," He says. "You should talk to him about it."

"I think I know exactly when he's going to talk," He says, looking at the calendar. "Next full moon is my birthday… and it would've been the two years anniversary of Amada mother's death."

"…Oh."

"Yeah," He murmurs, looking at his own trembling hands. Makoto doesn't know what he should say, so he opts to stay silent. Whatever look is on his face must've reminded Aragaki of their promises, because the man puts both of his hands up and says. "Hey, I still remember our promises. I'll be extra careful. Haven't met with Sakaki Takaya or any of 'em Strega for a while already, so it might not be that dangerous."

"They're assassins, Senpai," He murmurs. "Don't push your luck and keep that Evoker on you at all time."

A sigh. "Alright, fine, you win."

"Thanks," He mumbles weakly. Then he remembers something – "Is Junpei—?"

"He's fine. The idiot's kidnapped by that red-haired girl from Strega."

Makoto blinks, his mind still slow on the uptake. He frowns slightly, but doesn't say anything. He thinks he'll think it over when he's a bit more awake. "…Okay."

"You look pale," Aragaki says quietly.

He nods, still feeling a bit woozy. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. When he opens them again, Aragaki is looking at him kindly. He raises an eyebrow, but the older boy doesn't give him any kind of explanation. Instead, he pats his hair (again) before standing up.

"I'mma go take a lil' walk. Just sleep tight. You can call me if you want anythin'."

"M'kay," He murmurs. "Thank you."

These past few days have been wild… he needs time to think.

And then a decision to make, about the closeness between him and Yukari that's too hazardous to ignore.

He needs to find a solution to that.

But for now, he has to rest.

A bit action-packed. Still hope you like it though! See you soon!