So! Bit earlier, again, because I've finished this fic (or almost, got like 2-3k worth of words left to finish this off)

So, here you go!

X: The Merciless Wheel of Fate-

Wheel of Fortune: Change, Cycle, Inevitability, Fate

Reversed Wheel of Fortune: Lack of Control, Unwelcome Change, Bad Luck

Everything feels right again.

She's just glad it works out the way it did, considering that her stubbornness can leads the outcome either way. Makoto looks softer, lighter, and gentler, and she really likes it.

Not to mention that his lips are really soft, and he's an excellent kisser.

She shakes her head to get rid of the thoughts, focusing her attention on the lecture. She glances back to see him smiling at her. She blushes, hand unconsciously rubbing at the hickey right under her choker (at least it's hidden), before looking back. It's new to her that Makoto's actually quite the tease, not with words, but with the way he winks and chuckles at her.

He's going to be the death of her. And to be fair, she really wouldn't have minded it.

(But he would, so she had better not).

When lunch rolls around, she's only half surprised to see Makoto whipping out a bento from thin air and puts it on his desk. It's large enough for maybe three or four people, and by now she's learnt that he could eat food that would be enough for the entirety of the SEES in one sitting and still ask for seconds.

Instead she just turns her chair to face his desk and props her elbows on it. "Who made this?"

"Who else?" He says with a huff, a small smile on his lips. He hands her a set of chopsticks, and she readily accepts it. "I've been watching him cook for a while now, and how good he is still surprises me."

"How good you are surprises me, too," She says and bats his chopsticks away to snatch a piece of meat from him. She ignores his grumbling. "Why did you want to learn how to cook, anyway?"

"Distractions."

"Ah."

They ignore the chatters surrounding them as they continue to eat, talking quietly (well, it's mostly she who does the talking) and enjoying the food. She gives Junpei a look that stops him from teasing her as she takes another bite out of the food he plans on eating. He just shakes his head and pokes her cheek lightly, making her blush.

When the classroom is empty, the first thing he does is to reach for her choker and push it up slightly, revealing the blooming hickey on her neck. She quickly pushes his hand away with a scowl.

Before she gets to say anything, he murmurs. "Does that hurt?"

She blinks. "No, just really embarrassing. Why?"

"Nothing."

"Makoto," She begins. She knows what he's thinking about, and she couldn't help but get a little uneasy at how he blames everything on himself and having this idea that everything he did to her would hurt her. It's admittedly less often now, but still. "You could never hurt a fly. You could never hurt me, so stop being paranoid."

He looks away, scratching the back of his head a little as he mumbles. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only sometimes."

He lets out a huff of laughter and smiles thinly. "If you say so. Well, you had better push your choker down, or that would show."

She scowls, this time. "At least you placed it really well, because if you had kissed a little higher or lower, we're going to have a problem."

"Duly noted."

She reaches her hand forward and beckons for his. He complies, placing his left hand in hers, and like she always does, she unfastens the straps of his watch and goes about running her fingers through the increasingly scarred hand, the more callous fingers and the soft, warm palm.

"Really, I wouldn't be surprised if you say you own that one," Makoto says, pointedly looking at the hand in question while resting his cheek on the other, his eyes so soft and so fond.

"Then don't mind if I do," She hums. "Gimme your right, next time. I think I've never mapped that one out before."

"You haven't," He confirms.

She presses her fingers against his then pushes them open before interlacing their fingers loosely. She doesn't miss the way his eyes are watching her fondly, or the way he relaxes his hunched shoulders (they're always so stiff) as soon as his hand is safely in hers.

Before she could tease him or say anything, he pulls her hand to his face and plants a soft kiss to the back of it. She's inwardly screaming, but outwardly she just blushes like a goddamn lovesick school girl—

—Wait, she is a lovesick schoolgirl! Goddamnit.

At that, his smile turns a bit sly (and that changes him from being cute to being hot, what the hell?) before he murmurs. "You're cute when you blush."

"Shut up," She groans. "Don't tease me!"

He just chuckles.

She thinks she could die happy like this.

(Then again, that would break her promise, and she sure as hell won't).

The typhoon sucks.

But there are some silver linings, like being able to eat Makoto's (and by extension, Aragaki's) cooking.

How he even manages to do all of that after getting caught by the typhoon and drenched to the bones is a mystery. She thinks he's going to catch a cold soon after, but he says he won't and shut her up with a plate of homemade cookies.

Oh well.

What feels a little off, however, is the air around the two as they talk among themselves. Makoto looks a bit stressed, and Aragaki has to keep reassuring him with a head pat, or a shoulder squeeze. And then he would glance at Amada, who seems strangely quiet and saddened. She asks the young boy why, but he says that his mother's anniversary is soon, and he's reminded of it, so she leave it at that.

She also doesn't question how Makoto convinced Aragaki to prep the residents a big fat meal, because this is pretty nice. She thinks Sanada and Kirijou are a bit surprised, too, but not as much as Junpei or Fuuka. Granted, they are friends with Aragaki for the longest of time, so their minimal reactions are kind of a given. But Sanada seems particularly… happy about this?

"I never thought you'd be doing this for us at all, Shinji. What gives?" He asks, leaning back against the chair and drumming his fingers on the table as Aragaki flips whatever it is in the pan upside down expertly. Makoto leans a bit closer to take a look before shrugging and going back to his own stove.

"It's because you dipshits eat like trash," Aragaki growls before putting a cup of hot rice and a small plate of grilled salmon in front of Amada, who gives him a look torn between being grateful and… something she couldn't quite name.

"Admit it that you've wanted to for a while now, Senpai," Makoto says. His voice is flat, but he's grinning at the older boy.

Aragaki groans. "Fuck off, Yuuki."

"No, thank you," He hums and goes back to the counter.

"I've been meaning to ask, but you guys seem really close," Sanada begins after thanking Aragaki for the warm cup of tea. "Never thought the two of you would kick off your friendship this fast and this strong. How come?"

"We're birds of the feathers," Aragaki mumbles. "Not a good thing, but not bad, either."

"I wouldn't call the two of us being birds of the feathers not a bad thing," Makoto sniffs. "We can bring a few freight trains to a halt with how much we're carrying."

"Yuuki, as I said, it's not that bad—"

"—It kinda is."

Sanada laughs while Kirijou just snickers into her hand a little. Aragaki glares at them both while Makoto hands Yukari her plate with a wink before he starts distributing everyone their utensils.

"Man, this is the first time I've seen you this lively," Sanada chuckles as Aragaki sits next to him, while Makoto settles down to her left, putting his right hand on hers and squeezing it lightly.

"Just shut up."

"He's kind," Makoto says with a small smile. "And very understanding. Like a mother hen."

Aragaki's face gets redder as he tries to stop Makoto from saying anything else. Sanada just pulls him back and laughs his ass off. "Yuuki, if you keep this up, Shinji's going to set himself on fire and die of embarrassment."

"It's quite a sight, to be honest," Kirijou adds.

"Mitsuru, not you too—"

They laugh.

She ends up in his room (again), with his right hand becoming her next plaything.

He's sitting on the chair, a book propped on his knee as he uses his left to flip the page while she curls up on his bed, hogging his hand to herself and is very happy about it. He's changed his clothes again to his turtleneck, claiming that he's a bit cold (he's so going to be sick tomorrow). The sounds of the raindrops slamming into the glasses are annoying, at best, but ignoring it is easy when she has someone with her. She thinks she caught Kirijou's eyes when Makoto led her to his room, and it's pretty hard to miss her smile.

It's against dorm regulations, but she thinks Kirijou is giving them an exception, and she's fine with it.

They stay silent, with the sounds of rain and thunder and the whispers of papers sliding on one another filling the room, and the only source of light being the lamp on his table. She carefully trace the scar on his right hand, numbering a bit less than his left, especially his index finger which is usually guarded by his Evoker. She frowns a little when she feels a faint, but large, scar on his palm, as if he's been pierced with a sharp blade.

"When was this?" She asks, running light fingertip across it, making him shiver a little.

He tilts his head slightly, brows furrow in thoughts, but his eyes don't leave the pages of his book. He chews on his tongue a little before he blinks once. With a hum, he replies, softly. "Do you remember the love hotel?"

…Oh. "My arrow?"

"Yes," He says, looking up from the page and at her with a gentle smile he wears more and more often, that would make her heart beats just a little faster, that would make her a bit more nervous. "And don't blame yourself. I ordered you to."

"Okay," She breathes, keeping her thumb pressed on it. "Does this one hurt?"

"No," He shakes his head and places the book down before sliding the chair a bit closer to the bed. "None of them does."

"You're not lying, are you?" She frowns a little, eyes glancing to his left wrist, where scars after scars adorn it like lines of broken woods on the board.

"Not right now," He murmurs.

"I don't really like that answer," She whispers. She knows he still can't say some things, and that's okay, but it still makes her feel uneasy.

"Sorry," He apologizes quietly, his fingers curling around hers and stopping her from exploring.

"When will you be able to tell me everything?" She asks, putting her other hand over his, only to feel him trembling under her palm, slight as it may.

"I'm not sure," He murmurs. "Hopefully soon."

"You better try your hardest, okay?" She says, sitting up slightly and putting her hand on his cheek.

He leans against her touch, his eyes closed. While he's reluctant to make physical contacts, it's clear after a while that he actually starves for it. He needs it, but also hesitant to receive it, because touches were not always kind and soft towards him in the past.

But now that she's here, he's relaxing fully against her hand, his skin so soft and warm, albeit decorated with scars old and new, deep and shallow. She has never tried to touch anywhere above his elbow, and never seen under his shirt before, but she thinks… there might be more than what she could prepare for mentally.

The fact that he refuses to wear a swimsuit is telltale enough.

She sighs inwardly and pulls her hand away from him. He opens his eyes, a bit confused, and she smiles at him as she leans in to kiss him lightly and gently.

After a while, she pulls back, her hand reluctant on his elbow. "…There are scars above here too, right? Scars not from Tartarus?"

He gives her a pained smile. "Yes."

"…Can I see them?"

He looks uncertain, his eyes casting downward. She pulls her hand back before gripping both of his firmly. He looks up and inhales. "They're not pretty."

"I know," She says. "It's fine if you don't want to. I just want to understand your pain better."

"For what?"

"So I can ease them, of course, you idiot," Really, he is dumb when it comes to understanding kindness. But then again, he hasn't experienced them much before. And she's going to make sure that he does, as much as she could provide, from now on. "But, I'd understand if you don't want to."

"…I don't know," He says slowly. "Although… if it's you, then I guess it's okay."

He pulls his hand away, pulls his MP3 over his head and on the table, then tugs the shirt off his body in one smooth motion.

Because there is so little light in the room, it takes her some time to be able to see. But even then, some of the scars are really faint and easy to miss.

Before she could think on it, her hands are already on his chest, feeling the jagged and uneven edges of skin, one after another after another, each larger than the last, and it makes her breath hitches as she continues to follow their lines. She stops when he winces at a particularly large scar on his right chest.

"…You said they don't hurt anymore."

"Only the ones on the hands," He murmurs. He then grabs the eraser on his desk and throws it at the switch, turning on the light and—

All she could do is gasping and trying to stop herself from crying.

There are so many scars on his body, large and small, most of them are rough lines, shallow enough for the blemishes to faint, but deep enough to leave marks. The one on his chest, however, is a large scar branching out like webs, skin around it warped as if it's been twisted, color a deep shade of red. She reaches to touch it again, and he flinches, his hands tight on the edge of his seat.

"What…" She couldn't bring herself to finish, so she bites on her lip and gently traces it. It doesn't look like it's made from being cut, either.

"…I'm not going to answer that."

"Makoto."

"Not now, not tonight," He says resolutely, looking away from her. "I'm not ready."

"Then when?"

"I don't know," He breathes, his nails digging deep into the wood. "Sorry."

She just furrows her brows more, but pulls back. It doesn't look like something she should pry just yet, and just him revealing these to her alone is like asking him to bare his sins for the world to see. It's enough, for now.

"I'm sorry, for forcing you," She murmurs. "You can put your shirt back on."

"Okay," He whispers, and does as told.

She just sits there, lost in her own thoughts. The more she gets to know him, the more painful it is to accept the fact that this kind, gentle soul has been through hell before, and is barely halfway back from it. What kind of monsters would put him through all of this? What malicious god is there that would put someone this compassionate through this kind of torment just because?

She jumps when she feels his hand on her face, his finger wiping something — wiping tears away from her cheek. She blinks again. "Makoto—?"

"You were crying," He says with a smile, so soft, so tender. "You shouldn't."

"It's because you don't deserve any of this."

It looks like he is about to counter, but decides not to. Instead, he just pulls back and walks over to turn off the lights again.

"Makoto, I'm sorry," I'm sorry for all of these things that happened to you.

"It's okay," He says, sitting back down on the chair, and pulling her hands into his. "I'll be alright. You're here with me, all of you. I'll be okay."

She smiles. "If you say so."

He has a fever.

He has a fever the next morning.

"Makoto, you're such an idiot," She growls out as she closes the door behind her, first aid kit in hand. Aragaki told her he hasn't come down since early morning when they were going to cook together, and she promptly comes up to check only to see him red and panting on the bed. "You should've told Aragaki-senpai or me that you're sick."

It takes him a solid minute before he murmurs out, voice barely audible through the storm. "…Didn't want to worry you."

"Well, now you have me concerned!" She snaps lightly before shaking her head. Scolding can come later.

She walks over to the bed and drags the chair to his side, the first aid kit in her lap. She takes in the sight of him breathing heavily and wrecked with fever for a moment before going about preparing a towel and a bowl. She doesn't need to feel his skin to know that he's having a raging fever. Judging from his face and the way he breathes alone is enough.

He whimpers the moment the soaked towel touches his skin, and he's shivering a bit harder. She sighs and curses his idiocy in her head—she thinks he's already realized that the first time. Instead, she pats his hair softly as she tries to wipe away the fever and whispers. "You'll be okay. I'll be here."

A pause. "…Sorry."

"You should be," She finds herself pouting a little, but decides to quickly drop it. "Not about me taking care of you. About being an idiot and pushing your own body too hard. Just… be more careful next time, please?"

He lets out a chuckles and breathes deeply. "…Mhm. Okay."

"Somehow, that doesn't sound really convincing to me," She mutters as she keeps wiping at his skin. The water droplets disappear almost instantly every time she does, and she winces slightly when her hand touches the crook of his neck. He's on fire, and not in a good way. "Where's the thermometer?"

"…39.3 Celcius (103 F)," He murmurs, stopping her brain and crashing it for a few seconds.

"What!?"

He groans, a hand on his face. "Not all the time. Last checked… an hour ago."

"Makoto, you dolt!" She snaps as she reaches for the meds in the first aid. While Fuuka dislikes medicine due to her… complicated family problems, she still retains a bit of knowledge on the matter, and it looks like her guess about his symptoms and fever is on point. She sighs and shakes her head, stopping herself from laying into Makoto further than this. She'll have the time to do that later. "Can you sit?"

He nods, and she holds him by the arms as he sits up almost painfully, his eyes half-closed. He's swaying, and looking a little dazed. He groans again. "Fuck, headache."

"It's your fault, y'know," She mumbles as she puts the glass of water to his lips. His hands are a little shaky as he takes it (they're so hot) and sips slowly and carefully. "Take better care of yourself."

"…Sorry."

"Here," She says, putting a few pills into his waiting, scorching palm. "For the fever."

"…Can you grab the ones in the drawer, too?" He says quietly. When she makes a confused noise, he elaborates. "…Antidepressants."

"O-oh! Um… okay," She mumbles, having forgotten the fact that, even if he's now more open, he still has to take the drugs (curse that damn shrink, and he almost got over his problems the first time, too!). She sighs to herself and opens the drawer to see four containers. At this, she frowns. "Weren't there only three the last time you took them?"

"There are," He whispers. "The one in yellow is Xanax. Ignore it."

"…Oh," Is all she says as she pushes the yellow one away and grabs the other three, picking out from each one a pill. "Here."

"Thanks," He says, gulping everything down without following them up with water immediately. Instead, he just swallows them dry before taking another sip.

"You should rest," She says, pushing him back down by the shoulder. He doesn't resist as she tugs him under the blanket and takes his hand into hers. "I'll be right here, don't worry."

"Okay," He says, smiling slightly. "Thank you."

She sighs. "You really are an idiot, Makoto. But… don't mention it. I want to be here with you."

Him being sick sucks, yeah.

But she doesn't mind staying by his side one bit.

She ignores the foreboding feelings as she settle down, with him already fast asleep, and her by his side, holding his hand.

They're going to be fine.

Makoto is extra jittery during the Full Moon.

She wonders if it's because Amada and Aragaki are not around?

"Where's Amada? And Shinji?" Sanada asks, brows furrowed. Kirijou looks just as concerned, as they wait for Fuuka to locate the Shadow(s). Then something clicks in Sanada's eyes, and he's frantic. "Don't tell me – today's October 4th, right!?"

Kirijou's eyes widen. "Yamagishi—"

"They're together."

Makoto's calm, almost flat, voice cuts them all off. Sanada and Kirijou are looking at him, the former first with confusion, and then fury. Yukari steps in between them to stop the boxer from reaching Makoto as he looks to the moon above, too calm for her likings, and apparently, too calm for Sanada.

"Yuuki! What's the meaning—"

"Aragaki-senpai won't let himself get killed," He says, his gray eyes turning to Sanada, hard and commanding – something she could never get used to.

"…You know?"

She isn't sure what they're referring to, but she'll save that for later.

"I deduced it, at first," He says, putting his sword into the ground and hands inside his pockets. "The timing and the way he looked at Amada are familiar to me. After a bit of thoughts, you just can't miss the signs – if you know what to look for."

Sanada backs down slightly, while Kirijou crosses her arms over her chest. "And why did you not stop them?"

"They need to talk this out," He answers, giving Yukari a brief glance. "It's not going to be easy, but I trust Aragaki-senpai enough not to fuck this up. I'm more worried about someone else joining in, however."

It takes her a moment, and then she mutters. "Strega?"

Makoto nods, looking up at the sky again. "But he hasn't been in contact with them for a while, so there is a good chance that they might not know where any of us are. Still… he didn't tell me where he went, so if you please, Yamagishi."

"Right!" She jumps a little, before closing her eyes. "…They're at the back alley of Port Island station!"

"Someone should go there, just in case," Makoto says. "Sanada-senpai?"

"Sure," He nods.

But before they could leave, something crashes into the ground and stops them. Makoto is the first to act, firing his Evoker and calling Orpheus to his aid. But to their dismay, it's easily defeated and thrown back into oblivion. The statue of a human with steel wire-like fencings and a mechanical dog descend from the sky, and land before them.

"They're… Strength! And Fortune!" Fuuka cries.

"Sanada-senpai, we'll take care of them," Makoto says. "Go."

"Got i—whoa!"

Before he could run, the steel wires extend and expand from the statue. She jumps out of the way, and Makoto takes a step back to avoid being stabbed. The commotions take maybe a few seconds, but it's a few seconds that make them realize just what kind of danger they're in.

They're caged in with one shadow, while Makoto and Fuuka are left out with the other.

The mechanical dog jumps on top of a roof, and soon something – something that looks like a roulette wheel appears. She doesn't have the time to give it much thoughts, however, as she's assaulted by waves of ruthless, cutting petals.

"You'll have to destroy that thing first!" Sanada says, pointing at the roulette as it spins, spins, spins. "And then I'll be counting on you, Yuuki!"

"Yes!" He nods, and looks up against the golden Shadow. The roulette slowly comes to a stop as he summons another Persona. "Seiryuu!"

The dragon rises from the ground and forward, its horns crashing against the golden frame. However, the thing does not faze, as the roulette finally comes to a halt, the needle pointing at a symbol that looks like fire—

"Kirijou-senpai!" Makoto snaps.

As soon as he does, the golden wheel shoots out a large fireball, through the cage and at them. She ducks out of the way and turns to see Aigis dragging the heiress away from harm. Before she could say anything, however, the master of the cage is already flying right into her direction.

"Hermes!" Junpei shouts, summoning Hermes and using it to push the Strength Shadow away from her. She gives him a nod before getting to her feet.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Yukari-cchi."

She hears the wheel spins again, but she trusts Makoto enough to take care of it as she tries to fight against the Strength. It's fast, and strong, with the steel wires whipping and piercing around like arrows raining from the sky. She sees Sanada trying to weaken it, only for the effect to be canceled when the Fortune rolls into another slot.

She knocks an arrow and fires it, reflecting one of the wires from getting to Koromaru. She hears someone gasps, and hears Fuuka before she could really think on it.

"Yukari-chan! Junpei-kun! Koro-chan! Watch out!"

Before she could react, lightning bolts crash right into her, and then she's out cold.

When she comes to, the Fortune is gone and the Strength is frozen from head to toe.

"Just die already!" Sanada snaps, calling out Polydeuces again. With a war cry, the Persona summons a bolt of thunder that splits the ice into pieces, and after but a moment, the Shadow dissipates and turns into nothingness.

The cage is gone, in pieces and flying into the greenish sky of the Dark Hour. She wobbly gets up and looks around for a bit, still slightly dazed. She then sees Sanada running off, with Kirijou hanging back a bit. The heiress then walks over to her and grabs her arm.

"Are you okay, Takeba?"

"Yeah, just a bit woozy," She murmurs, gripping her head. "What happened?"

"You three are struck by a Maziodyne when the Fortune wheel stopped at it," She explains, helping her walk over to Fuuka. "It's luckily not fatal, since Yuuki managed to cast a Marakukaja to prevent lethality, although the damage's done, and you're not going to be doing any fighting for a while yet."

"Oh," She murmurs, then looks up and turns around. "Thanks, Mako—"

…Huh? Where did he go?

"He went ahead to find Aragaki and Amada after he defeated the Fortune," Kirijou says as she hands her a bottle of pain medication. She takes it and pops one pill right into her mouth. She heard Koromaru whining softly. "Akihiko's heading there. Yamagishi, can you contact any of them?"

"They're out of range, I'm sorry," She says before undoing the summoning. "We should head there, too, just in case."

"Can you move, Aigis?"

"Yes," The android nods, albeit a bit shakily. Junpei helps keep her up with one arm while his other hand rubs at the back of his neck.

Something's in the pit of her stomach, crawling inside her and making her feel sick. She shakes her head and shoves the feeling away, but it persists. She sighs and just walks with Kirijou helping her up. "Thanks, Senpai. And sorry."

"You're welcome," The heiress says. "The alley should be only about ten minutes' walk away, give or take, with our current speed. Akihiko should be arriving in maybe two or three minutes."

"That's good, then," She sighs in relief. Really, if Makoto is there alone, she feels like something bad is going to happen, and she's not going to like it—

Bang.

She looks up, the echoing sound of gunfire searing into her mind. The foreboding feelings are back tenfold, and she feels her heart drops onto the floor. She exchanges a look with Kirijou, who quickly helps her half-limp half-run towards the source of the sound.

Bang. Bang.

Another, and another. She could feel dread clawing at her innards, telling her that something's happening. Something bad. She has a feeling it might be Amada or Aragaki who's in danger, but a part of her knows they're not. She bites back the gasps and limps faster.

Bang.

She runs.

Ignoring the aches in her body is easy when fear is replacing pain. She could taste something foul in her mouth, she could also feel the chill running through her body. She couldn't stop her hands from getting cold and shaken. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.

Bang.

The gunfire is closer, and she's starting to hear faint and unidentifiable shouting of people. Of many people. Frantic. Afraid. Terrified.

She stumbles, but stops herself from falling as she keeps running, and running, and running, until her lungs are begging her to stop, until her legs are crying, until her body is on fire. But she can't stop. The feeling of dread is right here, and as she gets closer, the voice gets louder, more frantic. They are yelling, ordering, and as she rounds the corner, she could feel her blood freezes in her veins.

Blood.

There is so much blood.

She sees Amada on the side, his spear on the ground, his eyes wide and mouth agape. There are a few holes on the walls, and broken concretes on the floor. Smoke blankets the area, and she could see small dents of maybe fragments of the explosions. An Evoker, broken, lies in the middle of the alley. And arm, with a smoking revolver in its grip, is not too far. Sanada is hovering over someone, and—

No, no, no, no—

There's blood everywhere. On his face. On the ground under him. On his hands. Seeps into his shirt and cakes his body in its crimson splendor.

Please, no—

Aragaki looks up at her then back down, his hands pressed firmly against the other's chest as blood gushes out like torrents of rain.

"MAKOTO!"

Surprise, I guess? I did write Canon Divergence lmao. Have fun!