Extras, because I'll take a break next week due to unforseen exam D:

V: The Unconventional Hierophant

Hierophant: Tradition, Conventionality, Education, Knowledge, Beliefs

Reversed Hierophant: Rebellion, Unconventionality, New Approaches, Ignorance

He's… fallen in love.

There's no two fucking ways about it.

And Makoto isn't sure if he should feel relieved, or scared, about that.

"Makoto?" Yukari's voice jolts him out of his contemplation. His bodily reaction almost makes him drop the pen in his hand. "You okay? You sure are spacing out at a weird time."

"Uh, sorry, s'nothing," He mumbles, scratching his neck. He sees Junpei smirking at him, and promptly kicks his friend under the table. He ignores the boy's yelp and turns to Yukari, blinking dumbly a few times before looking down at her hands. "…Is that—?"

"The summer school homework? Yep," She says with a frown, placing it on the table. He leans over to take a better look at the questions, still ignoring Junpei that's still bemoaning his existence. She groans and leans back against the couch. "I really, really hate it."

"Kirijou-senpai meant well," He says, taking the papers into his hand and making a few mental notes out of it. "Huh… S'not too hard, just a bit tedious."

"Really? This is not hard? It's calculus, Makoto!" Junpei whines.

"I don't see where you're getting at," He says flatly. He's already read everything up to the senior years, so he really doesn't get all the fuss. The subjects aren't that hard, if you study for it. "It's not hard… if you do study, and I suppose you just don't, Junpei."

"Dude, that's just mean!" The boy grumbles.

"Serves you right," Yukari giggles.

His mind cuts out the rest of their bickering, only focusing itself on Yukari as she laughs, her smile bright and just so, so beautiful. He inwardly sighs; he's smitten, that's for sure. And this is not a good thing, because while she's helped him so, so much, she deserves better than wet trash that he is. He couldn't offer her happiness, only pain, or neutrality, at best.

He decides to focus on the questions, slowly calculating and making his way through it, one at a time, keeping his mind off her – off his sun. He's content with feeling this way, but he will not let himself weigh her down. He briefly answers her question before going back to his own, fingers absently massaging away the creases between his brows.

He's also attempting to ignore the way Amada looks. He knows off-handedly that he lost his mother to a Shadow, and he only vaguely remembers it. He also knows that Aragaki lost control of his Persona a few years ago, and left the SEES after. It's not hard to see a sign, if you know where to look, and what to look for. And the timing is too perfect – a few years back, for both of them.

For Akagaki, specifically – why must he leave, when his Persona lost control? Of course, Makoto could only really think of one explanation, and it hurts to think about it. But he'd understand that. He'd also catch the older boy taking something, like a drug, when he thought no one was looking.

Not to mention the way he looks at Amada. While the younger boy doesn't seem to think of Aragaki differently just yet, guilt is depicted clearly in the older boy's eyes. He had worn those looks like badges of honor before, so he'd know.

It's not hard to put all of the pieces into one big picture.

Aragaki killed Amada's mother, there's no other explanation.

Amada doesn't know just yet, and he doubts the secrecy will last. And if he's seeing it right, from the way Amada talks, from the way he thinks… he's going to seek and exact revenge, even if it costs him his own life. Makoto's seen it before (indirectly however the experience is), so he would know.

And he won't allow that to come to pass.

But for now, he decides to shove the thoughts away, refocusing his attention on the papers in front of him. While doing homework is dull, at best, it is the best way for him to distract himself.

Yukari's hands are also a good way to distract him, but let's not dwell on that.

After a while and a few whines, they finish their homework for the day. He leans back and flips his way through his appointment book.

He then winces.

"Ow."

"Hm? What is it?"

Yukari is quick to ask, scooting a bit closer to take a look at his pocket book. He only sighs and closes it. He thinks about throwing it away, but doesn't. If he does, it's going to be a pain to actually recreate the whole damn thing up from the ground. "I forgot I'm going to be missing out on a class. You know…"

It dawns on her almost instantly, and she frowns. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," He murmurs, sinking into the couch as he does. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling and lets out another sigh before closing his eyes. "Thankfully, the new psychiatrist actually knows what he's doing. He's not probing too hard, and I'm making some progress."

"That's good to hear."

She then takes his left hand into hers and starts mapping it out, like she always does when the night is slow and they're mostly alone. He thinks Junpei's still around, but he's not going to turn away the feeling of her hands on his. Seriously, this girl might be the death of him, but he thinks he'd die a content man, so who cares.

"I forgot to ask this before, but how was the Kendo Tournament?" She says, fingers gently tracing upon his scars. It takes him a moment before the question sinks in.

"Won silver. Made a new friend, again. Kinda nice," He mumbles, curling his fingers around her hand lightly, not daring to put much power into them. Hayase hit like a fucking truck, and his neck still hurts from that one swing. He's not going to say that out loud, though.

"You? Lost? That's new," She hums, turning his hand up before she presses on his fingertips lightly, almost playfully.

"It's just Kendo, not life-or-death situations," He mumbles, pressing a hand on his face as a wave of nausea hits him. The psychiatrist's attempt to taper his antidepressants down is appreciated, but he's starting to feel it, just like the last time years ago when he was on them. This is going to suck. "Ugh."

"Makoto? What's wrong?" She asks, worried. He cracks open his eyes to see her leaning forward a bit more than maybe she should. He weighs is options, whether to tell her the truth or not.

In the end, he decides to spill the beans. If she finds out later, he's going to be getting an earful, and she might cut off whatever… this relationship is. "I'm tapering my antidepressants."

She tilts her head. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not the withdrawal symptoms, no."

"There are withdrawal symptoms?"

Well, it's not like the field of psychiatry is widely known or generally accepted. He should've seen that coming. He sits up straight, their hands still joint (somehow). He takes maybe a minute to chew on his lip until it almost bleed. "Yeah. Happened before, so I'm not surprised. But it sucks."

…He's also not going to say that the last time, the symptoms last for like, four months? …Yeah, let's not say that now. Too much information is not a good thing here.

"What are the symptoms?" She asks.

Oh shoot. He really wishes she wouldn't ask that, because while they're not really dangerous, he's experiencing a multitude of them. The combinations are annoying, at best, and at the lowest they can actually be debilitating.

She takes his silence wrong as she asks, her voice low and trembling. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Wait, don't take this wrong, they're not dangerous or anything," He quickly corrects her, squeezing her hand again. She relaxes slightly. "They're just plain annoying."

"You're sure that's all they are, right?" She asks with a slight frown.

"Yeah," He murmurs. After a brief pause. "Forgot to ask, too… how's archery contest?"

She is giving him a stink eye at his sudden change of the subject, and he winces a little. Luckily, she decides to move on to his question after a moment.

"I won gold."

"Well, that's kind of a given," He says, ignoring the feeling of her fingers on his wrist. Why are they up there? When she tilts her head, he clarifies. "The targets aren't moving or trying to shoot thunderbolt at you, are they?"

"…You've got a point," She hums.

"Then," He murmurs, glancing at the clock. The Dark Hour is approaching. They should get to bed soon. "We should head to bed."

"Huh?" She makes a confused noise before looking at the clock, and frowns. "It's already this late?"

"Don't you have practice tomorrow morning?" He asks, reluctantly untangling his fingers from hers. He regrets the loss, but it can't be help.

"Oh shit, I actually do!" She says in a panic. "I forgot. I actually forgot. What the heck!?"

He finds himself smiling a little as he gathers her scattered stationaries and hands them to her. "I'll take care of the rest. Go to bed already."

"Hey, you're not cleaning this mess up alone—"

"S'fine," He cuts her off, shoving her things into her arms. "Every minutes of sleep counts. I, of all people, would know."

"But—"

"Come on, let me repay the favors," He tries again. She's really stubborn, and it's hard to get his ways sometimes. But he's determined to at least help her out whenever he can, seeing that she's sticking to him and putting up with his nonsenses for three straight weeks already.

"…Okay," She finally relents, smiling at him. "Then, goodnight… and see you tomorrow."

"Mhm," He hums. "See you."

He bites back down the three other words he also wants to say.

This is enough. He shouldn't be asking for more.

When he walks out of the hospital, it's already nighttime (what kind of fucking session takes 8 hours? Good god), and—

"…Aragaki-senpai?"

He murmurs, a bit unsure. The older boy just looks at him with a frown, hands in his coat. He picks up minute shivering under his garments, but chooses not to voice it. He pulls off his earphone and walks over as Aragaki stands up.

"How's the sessions going?" The taller boy asks, his eyes hard, concealing the kindness underneath.

"…Alright, I guess," He answers. When Aragaki hums in response, he starts weighing the things he wants to say. He decides to bite the bullet. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What? You wanna know why I'm here to pick your ass up or something?"

"No," Makoto quickly shakes his head. Even though he's a bit curious about that part, he still needs to voice this out first. "…You're really going to hate me for this, but… you killed Amada's mother, didn't you?"

He stops dead.

His voice seems flat, but he could easily pick out the uneasiness, the fear, under it. "…How did you—?"

"I'm good at interpreting body languages and deductions," He says quietly, testing the water, trying not to intrude more than he should. But he has to, or someone might end up dead because of his inactions.

"…How deviously perceptive of you," Aragaki says at last, voice low. He turns around, face unreadable, save for the frown on it. "So what? You gonna tell Amada? I ain't gonna stop you, you know."

"No," He shakes his head again. "I want you to take responsibility by living, Aragaki-senpai."

"You what."

The way venom drenches and drips from those two words scares him. Like his foster parents catching him doing something they didn't want him to do before they're followed by hands and feet and sticks. He swallows back the panic bubbling up his throat and clenches his fists.

He has to do this. Needs to.

"If — when Amada knows, he's going to exact his revenge on you. Whether you die directly by his hands or not, the weight of the world will be on him, and you will have broken a child."

That gives Aragaki a long pause. He looks up at the moon, and then back down at him. He clenches his jaws a little before murmuring. "Experience?"

He gives the older boy a sad smile. "Yes."

Aragaki sighs. "Jesus Christ, you have more baggages on you than a fucking freight train."

"That's my life," He shrugs. "Do you want to talk about it, Aragaki-senpai?"

"Only if you do."

"Then it's a deal."

Instead of heading back to the dorm right away, the two of them find themselves admiring the night sky at the Moonlight Bridge.

Aragaki is leaning on the railing, looking off into a place far, far away, while Makoto has his back against it, watching the passing cars and the bright, flickering lights.

"So," Aragaki begins, unsure. "What did you and your perceptiveness picked out?"

"That you killed Amada's mother, probably with your Persona when you lost control. That caused you to leave the SEES. I don't know how you're able to keep it under control now, but I guess it might have something to do with the fact that you're wearing that kind of clothes during summer."

Aragaki actually laughs at that before he applauds, clearly amused, and slightly amazed. He isn't too sure; his facial expressions are the hardest to read, by far. "You hit the bullseye, Yuuki. If everyone is like you, I'm gonna be so fucked."

"Not everyone killed four people when they were a kid like I did, though," He murmurs. Yet again, his hands betray him as they tremble, his fingertips cold like ice.

There's a pause. He dares not look at the older boy.

"Four, huh…?" He murmurs. "If I—"

"My parents," He answers the question that's still lingering at the tip of the other's tongue. "A boy who tried to drown me years ago, and… the best foster parent I've ever had."

"Your parents died on this very bridge, didn't they? Why is it your fault?" Aragaki says. His eyes are soft, not dissimilar to his father's.

"Because I survived and they did not," He mumbles, putting his hands inside his pockets, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet. He knows it's not his fault, but at the same time, it is. The psychiatrist called it Survivor's Guilt, or something.

"…I see. What about the other two?"

"I strangled the boy who dunked my head under the water by accident," He bites the word out. He hates it. It was not an accident, but his shrink said that it was. Was it, though? He sighs and shakes his head. "Or rather, it's not an accident, but I didn't plan it and didn't want to kill him."

"Hey, Yuuki," Aragaki murmurs. "You don't have to continue, if you don't want to."

"I'm asking you to tell me your own sin, Senpai," He whispers. "I have to."

There's a beat of silence.

He sighs. "The last one's a bit… hard to talk about."

"Take your time. We have all night — or at least, until maybe the Dark Hour comes," Aragaki says with a small smile that really doesn't suit his usual scowl. But Makoto doesn't mind it.

"M'kay," He mumbles, closing his eyes. "When I was maybe… fourteen? A year after the strangulation incident—" He hates himself for saying that. It was not an accident. It was a murder "—I… landed in maybe the best home I could ever ask for."

Deep breath. Panic attack is going to come after this, he's pretty sure. But he has to press on. To save a life — no, two. He must.

"She's a widower. Dunno why she took me in. Didn't ask. I was no more than a wet trash, then. Just… kind of floating around. She's patient. She's kind. She's loving. For the first time after my parents died, I was loved."

"…Shit," Aragaki mutters. "Look, my story isn't as heavily-loaded as yours. You don't—"

"I want to," He interrupts. Even if he's going to break down here and now, he has to. He has never talked about this to anyone, not even Yukari. But Aragaki needs to listen. He needs to know that if he dies, all of the guilt and the weight will shackle Amada down and drag him into the mud.

He would know. He had been there. He's still there.

"…Alright. Go on."

"S'all went to hell when the neighbors set the whole fucking house on fire because they caught wind of what I am," He hisses through gritted teeth, his body shaking. He hugs his arms and wills it to stop. Not yet. He can't break down just yet. "She didn't care about it when she should. She was fine before I was there, they were all friends. They turned against her when she fostered me."

He is the reason for her death. A kind, loving woman who's lost everything died because of him.

"She should have left me. She didn't. And because I wanted to be there, because I was not fucking brave enough to leave, they set her house on fire and she's burnt alive," He barely manages to choke out the last part.

They didn't mean to kill her. She was in that house because he forgot something, so she went inside at the time she usually wasn't in, and—

He caused her death. He's the reason.

"…I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "I don't deserve it."

Death follows him everywhere. It clings to him like a parasite, sapping away lives that dare venture too close, taking away loves he doesn't deserve.

He has always wished that Death would claim his soul, too. It never does.

"It broke me," He murmurs. "Her death is a weight on my shoulders, and before I came here — even after I came here, her screams haunted me. I can't ever forgive myself."

He turns to look Aragaki in the eyes.

"Even if your death is indirect, it will break Amada. Don't let him kill you—no, don't you fucking dare die, because your death will be on him."

There's a heavy sigh. "And on you."

He…

"…Maybe, I don't know." He says, letting his weight pulls him down and falls to the ground, his hands cradling his head carefully. "I don't want anyone else around me to die anymore. Is that too much to ask for?"

"S'not," Aragaki mumbles. Before long, he's sitting beside Makoto, not close enough to touch him, but enough for him to feel his body heat. "Right, you've made your point. Then I'll live, but it ain't gonna be for myself. It'll be for the kid—and for you."

He'll take that. He doesn't care for the reason. He just doesn't want to see anyone else leaves. He doesn't want anyone else to die.

He doesn't want to be left alone.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Yuuki," Aragaki says, and reluctantly puts a hand on his head before ruffling his hair. He finds that he doesn't mind the feeling. "Damn it, now that you've made a point, I really can't just die no matter what."

"If you could, then please."

"Means I gotta watch out for…"

"Strega, right?"

The look Aragaki is giving him is, yet again, partly impressed, partly furious.

"How—?"

"You always hang out around shady parts of town," He explains, hands playing with the MP3 again. "It's not hard to guess who you'd have to deal with, to get something that'd control your Persona… outside of the Kirijou Group, anyway."

"Yuuki, I don't know if I'm more impressed or more afraid of you right now."

"Hopefully the former," He hums.

"You're pretty smart, huh."

"Just perceptive."

"And a smartass, to boot," Aragaki tousles his hair even harder, and he tries to push him off, but fails. The man is brawny. "If everyone is like you, I think I'm going to be fucked ten times over in the span of two weeks."

He lets out a small, broken laugh.

"Well, then I should tell my side of the story, too, yeah? S'only fair."

"Only if you want to," He mutters. "I told you mine only because you need to hear it. I don't."

"Fair point," Aragaki nods. "Still, I'm gonna spill, cuz I want to. I think you're the only person in my world that will get what I'm feelin'."

"True enough."

He relaxes and closes his eyes as Aragaki tells his own tale. It's the least Makoto could do for him.

He knows it's coming, the damn panic attack, but the awful timing can go suck a dick.

After he's listened to his side of the story and convinced Aragaki to seek aid from the Kirijou Group (to his surprise and relief, the older boy agreed), he thought it was all well and good… but when he hears the horns of the cars, too loud and too long and too close, he starts to feel his heartbeat galloping inside his ribcage like bands of wild horses, thundering hooves clapping against the bones of his spine. He ignores the older boy's call as he runs and runs back towards the dorm as fast as he could.

He slams the door open and ignores all the greetings and the yelling as he stumbles and half-crawls his ways up the steps. He's all too familiar with this sense of dread and impending doom. A panic attack isn't something you can avoid, especially not when you have to spend a long time remembering all the things that have gone to shit in your life, only to have the damn trigger (it was only at that moment that he realizes that nearby, loud car horns is one of his triggers) being slammed into your senses.

Fucking stress and memories and triggers.

He doesn't bother for the keys, only ramming his shoulder against the door until it flies open, and he falls to the ground. He scrambles up and tries to remember through the fog where his bottle of Xanax is. Trembling, sweating fingertips grasp and fumble at the drawers and the desk, spilling the contents to the ground. He slips on a piece of paper, but gets up immediately and goes for the sink.

After rummaging through the dark for a while, he finds it. The bottle is slippery between his palms, and it's hard to screw the cap off. When he does, he immediately spills the contents to the floor. But he couldn't stop. He grabs the nearest pill and swallows it immediately, ignoring the curious call from just outside of his room. After taking some mouthful of air, he manages to get himself up and stumbles towards the space between the sink and the corner, his legs finally giving out, letting his body slide to the ground.

The light of his room is suddenly turned on, and a set of footsteps approach him. He's still panting, his heart is still hammering away inside his chest, and his lungs are still constricted and bound and caged, but his head is clear enough. He looks up to see Yukari looking at him with concern. He only watches, with his hands clasped together, knees pulled to his chest, arms hugging them. She gives him a small smile before kneeling down, gently enveloping his hands in hers.

"You okay?" She murmurs, carefully unraveling his hands from one another and does what she's always done; taking his hand and mapping it with callous, careful fingers.

He exhales slowly. "…Yeah. Just… panic attack."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No need to," He mumbles. He's already talked his problems out with Aragaki. He doesn't need to talk more about it – at least, not tonight.

"Okay," She hums. After a while, she tugs at his hand, a bit hesitant. He takes the cue and slowly gets to his feet – only then does he see that he's turning his room into one big mess. Cleaning up tomorrow is going to be a pain, but that's for tomorrow's him.

Today's him is going to get some rest (not sleep, only rest), thank you.

"Lemme guess," She says, mindfully leading him away from the corner. He ignores the fallen papers and pens and bottles, for now. After she sits him on the bed, she continues. "Don't want to sleep tonight?"

"No," He says with a sigh. "I'm a mess."

"Well, yes, I can see that."

"I'll be fine," He murmurs. His heart is still noisy, his lungs not really cooperating. But he's better than the first time he's had this kind of episodes. He'll make do, somehow. "Goodnight."

"Hey, I never said anything about going back down there," She is quick to retort as she closes the door (he's only, thankfully, destroyed the locks, and not the chains), hooks the chain on it, and walks back over to him. She then sits beside him, and pulls his left hand into hers yet again.

"Go have fun," He whispers. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Nuh-uh, not happening," She says before lacing her fingers to his, giving him a firm grip. "Makoto, with all seriousness, please ask for help when you need it."

"I—"

"—Don't need help?" She finishes with a scowl. "Yeah, no, you're not convincing anyone with how you scrambled up the steps like you did."

He winces. "Sorry."

"S'okay," She says. "I've read it up. These things happened, right? Sometimes with a trigger?"

"…Yeah."

"Can you… tell me?"

"This time? Car horns," He says, closing his eyes and trying to think of something else. Maybe the pink alligator Kamiki mentions in his story. He doesn't find himself having any reaction to that thought, so he scraps it and tries again. "Loud, long, blaring car horns right next to me."

"I see," She murmurs as she drags the pad of her index finger along his knuckles, soft, light, maybe a bit mischievous. He likes it, so he doesn't stop her. She pauses on a scar that's right in the middle of his hand, having gotten it from being stabbed right through the palm. "…I'm here, Makoto."

"I know. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

There are still three words his heart wants to say.

But he can't.

He doesn't want to burden her with his feelings, useless and painful. He doesn't want the Death that has been shadowing him, that has always been looming over his shoulder, to claim another soul. To claim her soul, like it did his parents, like it did his foster mother.

He's fine with how they are now.

(He's not).

There we go! Hope you guys like it ;D See you again this Saturday, I hope!