So... I have work, so my planned trip back to my home is cancelled =_=. Oh well, whatever, means a chapter for you folks!

XIII: Death, Defied

Death: End of Cycle, Beginning, Change, Metamorphosis, Release, Letting Go

Reversed Death: Fear of Change, Holding On, Stagnation, Decay

It hurts.

But he's alive.

To be completely honest, he isn't at all surprised to see — rather, to feel — that he's been intubated and whatever else they did to his body. Takaya did quite a number on him, after all.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Yukari there, with Aragaki (he's glad the man's alive, thank god) and maybe some more people, he isn't sure, his head is still heavy and his eyes still couldn't see much else except for the white walls and the pink and the dark red overcoat.

"Welcome back, Makoto," She whispers. He wants to smile and say that he's here, he's home (they're his home. This place is his home), but he can't, so he settles for a slow blink and a gentle squeeze to say that, yes, I'm here.

"Damn, that took you a while," Aragaki says with a rumbling laughter. Then that familiar large, rough hand is on his head, patting it. He closes his eyes and leans against the touch slightly. "Welcome back to the waking world, kid."

"I'm going to tell the others right away," He hears someone from the other side of the bed, and he glances there to see Sanada grinning at him. "Good afternoon, Yuuki."

He manages to nod a little before going back to looking at Yukari as she's crying and smiling (stop, don't cry, come on, he's alive), with Aragaki just awkwardly trying to help her calm down. He spies Amada giving him a short bow, so he lifts his hand slightly (ow, fuck, that hurts) to acknowledge him.

Everything's still a blur. He's scored himself a few new large-ass scars (nice, just nice) and he's still exhausted to the bones. He isn't sure if he could keep himself awake any longer or not, so he just closes his eyes and settles down.

"Oh, he's going to go back to sleep," He hears a person— who is this, Aragaki? He thinks it's Aragaki — murmurs. "Looks like he's dead tired, huh."

"If that pun is intended, Shinji, I'm going to punch you."

"It's not!"

Someone squeezes his hand lightly again, and he manages to crack his eyes open just a little to see a soft smile on Yukari's face.

"It's okay. I'll see you later."

He nods, and lets himself fall back asleep.

Having the tube pulled out of his throat is a weird, unpleasant sensation.

The moment the apparatus leaves his windpipe, he coughs and coughs, rattling his broken bones and his lung even more, and those hurt like being flattened by Castor. He groans and tries to breathe normally, a careful hand (hers) on his shoulder to keep him grounded, another gripping his hand tightly.

"How're you feeling?" Yukari questions, wiping the stray tear collecting at the corner of his eyes away. He thinks Aragaki is close by, but he isn't too sure.

"…Hurt," He rasps, his voice a whisper, hoarse and rough. He coughs again after saying that, and his left hand instinctively pushes down on his abdomen to reduce the pain. After a while, he manages to catch his breath, and frowns a little. He then spies Aragaki looking at a small pocketbook. "…?"

"It's nothing, kid. Don't worry about it," He quickly diffuses, putting the book back. "Just some recipes I cooked up."

"We're planning a party once you're discharged," Yukari explains, tugging the hair covering his eye away. He breathes and nods. "You'll have to stay awake during the Dark Hour, though, because I'll have to heal the rest of your injuries so that they won't be debilitating."

"…'Kay," He whispers, shifting slightly. Every bit of his body feels like it's been thoroughly stampeded to minced meat and brought back to life. He wonders how long will the pain last, but decides to not dwell too much on it. Then, a question comes to mind. He inhales deeply once. "How long…?"

"…Almost a week," She replies quietly, her finger tracing the tiny scars on his hand, like she always does.

"I'm sorry,"He murmurs, and lifts his left hand to hers, squeezing it. He then looks up at Aragaki and smiles before whispering. "How're you and…"

"We talked it out," Aragaki says. "My Persona has changed, too. It's now called Chiron."

Chiron, the centaur? Huh… it's quite fitting, when he thinks about it. "…That's good."

"I know what you're fucking thinking," The man half-growls at him. "Fitting my ass. I swear to god you and Aki share brain cells when it comes to teasing me."

He croaks out a laugh which is immediately followed by dry coughs. He lifts up his hand to stop Yukari as he settles down. "Because it's fun."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you."

He's still tired, and he's hurt all over, but he's so glad he took Pharos' hand and not backing down. He wants to be here, even if it hurts.

"Well then," Aragaki speaks up again as he walks over to pat his head, and then Yukari's, before heading towards the door. "You two need some alone time together. I'mma grab food and whatever else, and I'll be back in maybe a few hours. You want anything in particular?"

Yukari shakes her head, then glances at him a little. When he just gives her a smile, she giggles and turns to the older boy. "Not that we can think of, no."

"Then see ya later," He waves, and exits the room.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are the beeping of various monitors and his own slightly labored breathing. He takes a moment to look a bit around, at all the devices and at the glass pane and the scenery outside. Finally, his gaze lands on her.

She looks like she hasn't been sleeping much, the bags under her eyes prominent. She's paler than he remembers, and her eyes are puffy and a bit red. She must've cried a lot. She's smiling, and reaching a hand to touch his cheek. He hums and leans into her palm, always so warm and so tender, before putting his own uninjured hand over it.

"You look tired," He murmurs, curling his fingers over hers ever so slightly. The hole in his hand hurts, but he ignores it. He presses her hand firmer against his cheek before pulling it to his mouth and kissing the knuckles. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's nothing you should be apologizing for. You did something incredible, you know… and I'm proud of you."

"I see," He whispers, putting her hand over his own beating heart, ignoring the ache of his scar and his gunshot wound. "Still… I made you worry."

"A lot," She hums with a soft laughter before she traces her fingers along his chest, sending shivers down his spine and setting fire on his skin. "I'm just glad you're awake now."

He exhales and relaxes further into the bed. "How long until I'm going to be up and about?"

She just gives him a look. "You're not serious."

"…I am?"

"Good god, Makoto, don't be such a workaholics!" She half-snaps, squeezing his hand extra hard and making him yelp. She quickly pulls away. "Sorry!"

"Not your fault," He mutters. "But I'm serious… How long will it take?"

"A week," She says with a slight frown as she retakes his hand again. She then pushes her fingers lightly against his forehead. "Seriously, get your mind off the Dark Hour for a bit and get some rest. You've more than earned it."

"Okay," He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "I just want to get out of bed and do something."

"I know," She whispers, caressing his hand carefully, gently, like she's always done. "I know."

Just as she's promised, it takes a full week's worth of Dark Hours for her to completely heal his injuries.

The feeling of his bones and tendons recreating themselves is kind of new, and he isn't even sure whether he likes it, hates it, neither, or both. But, just as he's suspected (he would know, he has Personas that can heal, too), she couldn't quite completely get rid of the damages his body has received, so there are scars on his hand and his knee. His two fingers on his right hand, index and middle, lose most of their sensations, and there's always pain accompanying some of the movements of both his fingers and his leg.

He doesn't really mind the pain, too accustomed to it by his own hands. He doesn't tell anyone about it, however. He doesn't need Yukari fussing over him again when she's already having so much on her own plate. And he's not going to bother Aragaki with something this light. It's not worthy of anyone's attentions.

As he's sitting on the bed after the doctors have examined him and is clearing him for discharged, he sees Yukari walking in with Junpei and Yamagishi. As soon as they're in, he greets them with his right hand, the scar prominent and the shape deformed.

He notices the scowl on their faces when they see the scars, but soon wipe it away. Junpei walks over and slings his arm over his shoulders "You're finally coming back, huh, dude?"

"Personal Space," He grumbles, wriggling his way out of the other boy's grip. "And yes, I'm cleared for discharged, now. Just some paperworks left."

"Congratulations, Yuuki-kun," Yamagishi says with a smile. "And I'm sorry, for not being to help out more."

"You've done plenty," He says as he buttons up his shirt. It's a struggle—he isn't used to the diminished feelings in his fingers just yet. But then Yukari sees it and pushes his hands away before slowly helping him. He wants to protest, but the stink eye she's giving him is enough to shut him up.

"You sure you can walk without aid, though?" Junpei inquires, looking pointedly at his knee.

"Yes," He says, and after Yukari's done with his shirt, he pushes himself off the bed and stands. His knee actually doesn't hurt that badly, and it's not at all stiff. "See? No problem."

"Well damn, you're a miracle worker, Yukari-cchi!" Junpei says with a laughter and pats his back hard, almost making him fall over has he not caught the bed in time. And of all the place to his, it's gotta be the shoulder with the shattered scapula, too.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!"

"Junpei, you brute!" Yukari hisses and slaps his arm, making him pull away. "Makoto, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," He mumbles, standing up straight and ignoring the ache in his back. He couldn't help but smile, however. "I'm alright, don't worry."

"But, those are some scarring, Yuuki-kun," Yamagishi says, looking at his hand. He lifts it up, and after seeing her expression, offers it to her. She is a bit reluctant, and way too gentle as she flips his hand around, taking in the full extensions of the scar.

It looks more than just a hole—it looks like there was a miniature explosion going off, blasting the flesh of his hand right into oblivion and leaving a crater behind. Not to mention that the bullet shattered his Evoker, embedding the gunpowder and the metal into his wound. He's asked, and the doctors said they had to remove most of his flesh to prevent the infection. Hence, the scarring.

Yamagishi lets his hand go after a while. "Does it hurt when you move?"

He clenches and unclenches his hand repeatedly to make a point. It hurts, but only a little. He'll get used to it. So he lies. "It doesn't."

"That's good."

Yukari is giving him a strange look, but he decides to ignore it for now. "So, is Aragaki-senpai going to be cooking tonight?"

"Absolutely!" Junpei cheers. "Man, it still surprises me seeing him cooking in an apron. It just ain't my image of him, you know."

"I get it," He says, lips curling into a small smile. That man is much kinder than he'd let on, and gentle when he wants and needs to. A bit rough around the edges, but a good person. "Still, would he be okay cooking alone for all of us? I mean, I have quite an appetite."

Yamagishi and Yukari laugh at that. Then the former says, "I'm sure he'll be fine. He's already gotten started when we left."

"I see."

They chat for a while longer before the nurse arrives with a smile and gives him a bunch of meds he'll need to take (that makes it twelve pills per day already, goddamnit) before shooing all of them out with a smile.

Once they're outside, he takes a moment to breathe in the slightly chilly air and let the breeze caress his skin and ruffles his hair. He opens his eyes and smiles up at the sky.

"Life is beautiful, isn't it?"

The other two're looking at him, puzzled, but Yukari is smiling as she takes his right hand into hers and squeezes gently.

"Yeah," She says with a warm, breathtaking smile that makes him fall in love all over again. "It is."

The dinner is lively.

He tries to help Aragaki, but the man promptly shoots him down and forces him to sit on the dining table with the others.

The food, as expected, is the best. He thinks he might've asked for a few seconds. Sanada is having a fun time grilling Aragaki about everything, and the man being flustered really is always a treat. He joins in with the teasing, and almost had his head ripped off as the man fumes. Totally worth it.

He notices Yukari being unusually quiet, and when he asks her why, she just shrugs. But the look in her eyes is enough to tell him that she wants to say something, probably. He just smiles and holds her hand. She doesn't resist, so he just squeezes it a little before letting go and goes back to his meal.

They spend the next hour or so just talking. Kirijou asks if he's okay, and he says he's fine. Every single time he says that, however, he would catch Yukari looking at him with a scowl that she'd wipe off her face as soon as she catches his eyes. He wants to ask what all that was about, but refrains from doing so; she'll tell him when she wants to.

He really doesn't have to wait long.

As soon as he gets up and is about to head to his room, she's there, grabbing his wrist and pulling him up. He doesn't resist, but the way she tenses and the way her brows would knot together worry him. She's… it's not anger, but frustrations?

When they get into his room, the first thing she does is to push him towards the bed and forces him down. A few second later, he finds himself without his coat, his shirt half-unbuttoned, with Yukari sitting on his lap and preventing his escape.

"Yuka—"

"Why do you always have to lie?"

He stops, carefully watching her as she unbuttons his shirt with trembling fingers. He frowns a little, but offers no answer as she undoes the last button and carefully pushes his shirt away from his torso, her hands tracing on the scars, again. She scowls as she touches the surgical wound that cut from his left chest, circling around to almost the middle of his back like he's been sliced open. She stops when he hissed.

"You are in pain," She says, tracing the surgical scar tenderly, slowly. He winces almost all the way, and even though his reaction is slight, he knows she could still tell that it hurts. "It hurts, isn't it? Why don't you just say so? I told you, right? That you can tell me everything."

He doesn't respond. He doesn't know what he should say. He knows what she said is true, that he should've told her the things that's been bothering him. But he really can't bring himself to; the pain is slight, and they're not debilitating. He doesn't see the need, so he just let it slide.

Upon his silence, she sighs, pulling his right hand up and nudging at the new scar, and starts massaging the two fingers most affected by it. She keeps her focus on the two digits for a while before she says. "I know you think this is not a big deal to you. But it is to me, so please, just… talk to me."

…Oh.

That's right; it's no longer just him. She has already given him a part of her, hasn't she? That's why…

He looks away, pressing his mouth into a thin line. He curls his fingers slightly. "…I can barely feel them at all… mostly pressure, but not light touch."

She smiles sadly at that as she puts his hand to her cheek, pressing it firmly against her skin, her fingers slowly caressing his own. "So that's why you have problem buttoning up back at the hospital."

He hums.

She then puts his hand down and traces the scar on his chest, one by one. He hisses when she reaches the same surgical scar on his chest. "Are all of them painful to you?"

"…Yes," He replies softly, looking anywhere but at her as she traces the scar all the way to his back. Then at the bullet wound on his chest, large and slightly blackened due to the remnants of unwashed smoke and gunpowders. He sighs and forces himself to relax as her hand moves further down.

He chances a glance to see her frowning slightly, her hands stopping before the surgical scar that spans from his solar plexus all the way down past the waistline. "…It's too big."

He lets out a huff. "It is."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as the one on the chest," He replies, shifting slightly so he could sit up with her still in his lap. She seems to be too focused on his pain to notice the peculiarity and the suggestiveness of this position, but he won't be saying anything. He puts his hand on her head and pats it softly.

"I'm not a dog, you know," She murmurs absently, her hands tracing the scar, making him winces only a little.

"Hey," He whispers, drawing her attention up. He smiles a little before kissing her lips briefly. "It'll be okay. The pain's easy to deal with."

She bites her lip. "I don't want you to be in pain at all. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Unfortunately, yes," He murmurs. "But, I'm still here, I'm still alive. Being in a bit of pain every now and then doesn't sound so bad."

She sighs and presses her forehead against his. "I guess that's true."

He smiles and shifts a little. Even healed, his body still aches and is exhausted. He doesn't really mind it. He's alive, after all. She has closed her eyes, now, and her breath is a little shaky. Scared, perhaps. He hums again and rests his hand in the crook of her neck, tracing the skin right at the edge of the choker with his unfeeling fingers.

Much to his surprise, she responds by hooking both of her arms around his neck and kissing him, a bit eager, and also a bit desperate.

He puts both of his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She nibbles and bites at his lips a little, and he hums in respond as she deepens the kiss and pushes him back down into the mattress.

Her hands afterwards are searching, a bit distressed, but careful and light as she ghosts them over his skin, from his neck down to his torso, setting his nerves alight and making him shiver with both nervousness and anticipation. He isn't really used to gentle touches, but he finds that he wants them, especially when they come from her.

She breaks the kiss first, panting. He just looks into her eyes, to see all the affection and the fear that accompanies it like shadow. He frowns a little, his hands remaining on her neck, hovering a little, unsure. She just holds onto him tightly, a hand in his hair, caressing, pulling.

"I'm afraid," She whispers, and he notices that she's trembling, and her palms are sweaty. He blinks a few times before she continues. "I'm afraid of losing you. I can't lose you, no matter what."

He can't say anything to that. Promising that he will live is… it's something he can't outright do. Their work in the SEES is hazardous, and she should know this best. But he understands. He's lost many people dear to him before, so he knows.

And that's what makes this even more painful.

"Makoto," She begins, pulling back slightly so she could look him in the eyes. "Please, promise me you'll not leave me behind."

Promise me that you won't die.

He forces out a small smile. "You know I can't promise you that."

"I don't care," She whimpers. "Promise me you'll not leave me. Promise me you'll do your best to get rid of the Dark Hour and live afterwards."

"Yukari—"

"Please," Her voice is broken, and she's on the verge of crying, he could tell that much. It breaks his heart to see her this way. "Please, just promise me that you'll live. I've already lost my dad. I don't want to lose another person."

Even without the promise, he'll try his best to live, of course. However, the threat of death remains just the same.

But, against his better judgement, he will make it. Just to quell her uneasiness, even a little.

"Okay," He whispers. "I promise."

She nods, and kisses him again.

He couldn't find it in him to refuse.

He wakes up in the early morning to Yukari's soft, rhythmic breathing against his chest.

He thanks the stars it's Sunday. Even if it's not, he doesn't think he's got it in him to go to school. His bones are still screaming profanities at him, and the scars are burning quite a bit. He sighs; getting used to the pain is going to be quite a hassle. But from experience? The pain would eventually subside—at least the scars. The bones are a different story.

He turns his head to look at his sun as she sleeps, no trace of distress left in her face. He smiles as he presses his lips lightly on her forehead, not quite enough to stir her, but enough to make her smile a little in her slumber.

Last night is a bit… hard. She's distressed, so much so that she spent the tail end of it hugging him and crying against his chest until she fell asleep. He has a hunch he's going to regret promising her that, but quickly puts the thoughts away into the furthest corner of his mind. He wants to keep it, and he'll try his damn best to. He wants to live a bit more still.

He lets out a sigh before looking at the bedside alarm. It's only 5 am, so he just discards the idea of waking up early and tries to go back to sleep again.

And it's that exact moment that she wakes up, humming against his chest and hugging him tighter as she stirs to consciousness. She blinks and looks around a little before smiling. "Hey."

"Morning," He says and kisses her forehead before regretting it. He pulls the muscles in his back that pulls at the damn bone. Again. "Ow."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," He reassures, hand absently tracing a circle at the small of her back. She hums contently at that. "Just pulled the wrong muscles."

"What time's this?" She asks, rubbing her eyes a little before glomping him harder. His ribs protest a little. He doesn't care.

"Five in the morning," He murmurs. "I was planning on going back to sleep."

"…Well, it's only just five and you were healed only a few days ago. I don't see the harm," She shrugs, resting her head against his shoulder.

"…Can I ask you a question?" He says quietly, with his eyes glued to the ceiling. When she hums, her finger tracing the scar on his chest through his crumpled shirt, he asks, "I was wondering… why did you suddenly break down like that yesterday? Did something happen?"

She doesn't reply right away, instead focusing her attention on his scars, her breathing soft and steady, her hand a bit reluctant. He notices her fingers being a little… shaky? And even without seeing her face, he could tell that she's pressing her lips together.

He almost gives up on the answer when she says oh-so-softly. "…Do you believe in premonition?"

He frowns slightly. "…A little. Why?"

"After you…" She pauses to take in a deep breath, and holds him just a little tighter. "After you were shot, it scared the hell out of me. I was lost, and I didn't know what to do. And then I… kept having this dream that you were hurt again, and a feeling that it won't be the last time I'll see you like that and I just—"

"Shh," He whispers, stopping her and shifting his body a little so he would be able to take a good look at her face. She's clearly troubled, and to say that it is unfounded would be unfair. He is not… the best when it comes to lives, clearly putting others before his own, and that both makes her proud and upset her greatly. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "I'm just scared. Seeing you like that terrifies me. I don't want to lose anyone else, especially not you."

"I know," He murmurs, carding his fingers through her hair carefully. "But it's just a bad dream. I'm still here. I'm still in your arms."

She hums and holds onto him tightly. "Okay."

"I'll do my best to keep the promise."

"Mhm."

"Yukari," He says, burying his face into the crown of her head. "Don't doubt my words now. I might not care about my own life before, but now… I do. And I will do my best to keep that promise, no matter what, okay?"

"…Okay."

As she holds him impossibly closer, he looks up at the ceiling, and the out the window at the still dark sky.

His own doubt about whether or not he wants to live or die is long since gone. And he will do his best to live. For them, and for himself.

I have finished writing this fic since long ago, and I STILL have things I can add, what the actual fuck.

See you at the next one, people!