WARNING: SMUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CHAPTER. The beginning is pretty brazen tho, and the smut itself has no really vulgar words, so there's that. For emotional comfort, most of all.
12K words! Have fun with this one! 5 more chapters to go, people!
XX: The Judgement Day
Judgement: Reflection, Reckoning, Awakening
Reversed Judgement: Doubt, Lack of Self Awareness, Failure to Learn
The Lovers
The morning of the New Year is somehow freer than any day of the year prior.
She loves the cool air and the soft atmosphere. She loves how they're all choosing to live on their own terms. She thinks they'll be just fine. Whatever miracle there is they need to pull off, she's certain they'll be able to.
She's with the other girls downstairs, already in their Kimonos. It seems like something good happened between Mitsuru and Sanada, since things seem to be kicking off for them, now. Fuuka's starting to tease not just Yukari alone, and she feels both pity for the heiress and the joy of having herself another person to use as buffer. Makoto doesn't know this as much as she does, of course, but Fuuka can be pretty… creative poking fun at people.
Did Junpei rub off on her or something?
They stop when they hear footsteps. The boys walk down in groups, with both Makoto and Sanada stopping cold on the steps and staring at her and Mitsuru, respectively. Makoto is the first to recover, walking over and smiling warmly, his gloved hands (because people staring makes him more paranoid than usual) finding hers.
"You look beautiful," He whispers carefully.
"Flatterer," She hums, forcing the dust of pink away as soon as she catches Fuuka giggling at her. "Well, if we're all here, then why don't we head to the shrine together already?"
"Good idea," Aragaki says. "It's still early, so I think there's not gonna be many people there."
"Right," Sanada mumbles. She spies Mitsuru going a bit red, and when the heiress catches her and her raised brows, she quickly looks away.
"…When did they start dating?" She wonders to no one in particular, smiling to herself. They're even more awkward than Makoto is, and that's saying something.
To her surprise, Makoto actually knows about this? Before her? Somehow? "A while, I think maybe right after Ryoji revealed himself. You saw them in the kitchen together, didn't you?"
…Oh.
"You're observant to the point of being stalkerish, you know," She says, jabbing his belly lightly, and he moves out of the way a little at that. "It's creepy as hell, Makoto."
He shrugs.
After a few more minutes of quiet Happy New Year and whatever else, everyone in the SEES set out towards Naganaki shrine. She keeps his hand in hers, absently kneading it, while he matches his usually quick pace to her slower ones. She smiles a little and tightens the grip on his hand lightly once before letting go and jogging over to the girls.
"So," She hears Fuuka says, her voice mischievous. Uh-oh, she knows where this is going. "…I didn't know you and Sanada-senpai were a thing."
Mitsuru's face matches her hair color perfectly, and she finds it quite hilarious. But she's been in that position before, so she gets between the two of them and nudges Fuuka. "Don't grill her about it, Fuuka, that's just rude."
"I see," Aigis suddenly says. "So that is why I saw you and Sanada-san alone together after the Dark Hour in the kitchen yesterday."
Yukari splutters, Mitsuru looks like she wants to hide under the concrete, and Fuuka's giggling wildly.
"Aigis!" Mitsuru snaps. "We didn't see you—"
"We, not I," Fuuka comments.
A groan. "Yamagishi, please, stop, my face can't take more of this."
"Better get used to it, Senpai," She consoles her by patting her shoulder lightly. "She did this to me and Makoto before… and she's not going to stop. Like. Ever?"
"Teasing Yuuki-kun isn't as fun, but his reaction is adorable," Fuuka hums, smiling gently. "But you're funnier. He just blushes a little, sometimes, but you goes as red as Kirijou-senpai most of the time, so..."
She sighs. "Yes. This, exactly. Did Junpei rub off on you or something?"
Mitsuru laughs a little as the navigator shakes her head with a gentle smile. "You're much more open than you used to be, Yamagishi."
"I guess," She hums. "I have Yuuki-kun to thank for that, too."
Oh, yeah. He did tell her something about teaching Fuuka how to cook together with Aragaki, hadn't he?
The heiress smiles as she murmurs. "He's good at listening and helping people, that is certain. Each of us have something to thank him for, do we not?"
Yukari only laughs. "Yeah. We do."
She catches Makoto praying at the shrine, hands together, eyes closed.
She walks over to stand beside him and waits for him to open his eyes. When he does, she snugs her hand into the crook of his elbow and leans on him a little before murmuring. "What did you wish for?"
"Secret," He says, and chuckles when he sees the pout on her face. She shoves him a little before putting her hand together to pray. After a moment, he confesses, "For us to win."
"Kinda cliché. Oh well," She shrugs. Truth be told, though, she is going to wish for the same thing, for them to win, and for them to see the days beyond this spring. "Not like I'm going to wish for something different."
He waits patiently beside her until she's finished, and when she does, he offers her his hand. The glove looks much like Sanada's, same color, same material and even same shine. The only difference seems to be the size. When she takes it, he leads her away and towards the same path they took to watch the fireworks all those months ago.
She spies the others splitting themselves into small groups, quietly talking and laughing a little, their hopes and spirits high. She smiles; it seems like they won't have to worry about their mental states anymore, only physical ones. She then turns to Makoto as he leads her up the hills, his hand still loosely grabbing onto hers, a gentle smile on his lips as they trudge through the path in silence.
The cherry blossom tree in the morning without its signature pinkish petals is a bit strange, but the sight of the city rivals even that from Gekkoukan's roof, the soft snow and the bright sunlight making the view as breathtaking as his smile. She hums, gripping his hand just a little bit tighter.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He says quietly, with puffs of frigid air accompanying his words.
"It is," She hums. "It would be nice if I get to be here during spring."
"Don't worry," He murmurs. "Spring will come."
He says with confidence. She feels like something's a bit off, but isn't given the time to think on it when he puts his hand over her cheek, his thumb touching her lips carefully. He leans over until their foreheads touched, his lips merely a finger breadth away from hers. She blinks before giggling a little as she closes her eyes.
"If you say so," She murmurs against his warm breath. She could feel his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her a bit closer. Then, an idea strikes her. "Hey, why don't we all make some kind of promises? So that we'll be able to remember the others even after Nyx is defeated?"
"I'm listening," He murmurs, pulling back slightly. His smile is always so gentle, his eyes infinitely kind, his hands tender and careful. He pulls his hand away and resting it on the wisteria hairpin he had bought her a few months back. Even with color difference, it still goes along well with the kimono. And it's something he bought for her, so there's no way in hell she won't use it.
She grins a little. "First, let's promise that we'd come here, to see the cherry blossoms once this is all over, jus the two of us. How does that sound?"
Something changes in his expression, but it goes away as soon as it comes. He takes a moment before nodding once, a thin smile on his lips. "Alright, let's do that. What about the rest?"
"We'll have to talk with them, but I think meeting up again on Graduation Day sounds like a solid idea," She hums, a finger on her chin. "It's quite an easy date to remember."
"Let's bring that up to the others when we got home then," He says, kissing her forehead lightly, his hand finding hers, grasping it. "Do you want to stay here a while longer?"
"I mean, why not?"
They spend maybe twenty or so minutes sitting there in silence, his hand in her lap, mimicking the night of the summer festival. The only sounds she could still hear are the wind and the leaves and the ruffling of clothes as she shifts closer to him. She glances his way to see Makoto closing his eyes, his face tipping slightly upwards, a serene smile on his lips, so gentle, so warm.
She rests her head on his shoulder, and hears him breathes out louder than necessary, as if to say that he doesn't mind it. He then interlaces their fingers carefully, the rough fabric of his glove a strange sensation on her hand. Still, the warmth of his palm still seeps through it, so she doesn't care. She lets him kisses her fingertips a little before murmuring.
"Do you think we'll win?"
His answer is immediate. And if she has been in a less lovely atmosphere, or alone, or with someone who's objective, she might've noticed that there is something that doesn't sit quite right in the way he talks. "Don't ever doubt it."
"I believe you," She says, snuggling just a little closer to his frame. "I wonder if we'll lose our memories immediately or later on. Or when we'll regain it."
He laughs a little, freer than ever before. "Does it matter? Even if we lose them, I think… the bonds we've made would still be there. Even if we don't remember, we could always recreate our friendships again."
"True," She agrees. "But I don't want to forget any of the SEES. Especially not you."
"Neither do I," He whispers, leaning his head on her own a little. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I suppose."
"Yeah."
That is something they'll worry about later.
For now, they have lives to live, the world to see, and a fight to prepare for.
And she wouldn't have it any other way.
Yoshino Chidori is alive.
Junpei cries so hard that his eyes are all swollen and funny, but she thinks it's for the best. And now that the miracle's happened, they're all convinced that defeating Nyx is no longer an impossible feat.
She spies Makoto hanging out with Junpei as the latter gushes about Yoshino. Despite her losing her memories of him, he's undeterred. She's reminded of what Makoto told her; about him being the Magician Arcana. It's actually very fitting, especially in this situation. She smiles as she makes her way over to them and sits down beside Makoto, her hands absently finding his again.
They spent maybe an hour or so talking and listening to Junpei, and when he's finally done saying what he wants to, they just loiter about, resting, preparing mentally. The news about Yoshino's survival seems to have a lot of positive effects on everyone, even Aragaki, and the timing is just so right.
After there's no one left but the two of them in the lounge, she pulls his arm around her and snuggles just a little bit closer. He hums, smiling gently, and holds her just a little tighter. Then, he says, "I'm happy for Junpei. This is the kind of miracle that makes us realize our choice is right."
"Mhm," She hums, her hand resting on his knee. "I'm sure he'll fight extra hard just to carry this out, for our sakes, and for hers."
"True," He chuckles. "Now I just can't let him one-up me now, can I?"
"I've never thought you to be the competitive type," She says, pulling back a little and eyeing him. His steel gray eyes that's cold yet unbelievably warm are so, so beautiful. "Guess you've got sides I still can't expect, huh?"
"Don't sound so dejected," He laughs. "I don't even realize I'm like this until a few months ago."
"Liar."
"I'm not lying."
They exchange a few playful banters, and before long the clock's ticking towards midnight. She grumbles a little; the Dark Hour always makes things weird, and she doesn't like the feeling of staying awake during one. Still, if it's with him, then she guesses it's kind of okay.
Then there's sounds from the stairs, and both of them turn to see Sanada and Mitsuru walking down, talking to each other, seemingly closer than they were before. When the two see them, they go a little red, but Makoto just smiles and waves them over. Mitsuru seems unusually red and a bit embarrassed, but Sanada is quick enough to prevent her escape and drag her towards the lounge.
"How's it going for you guys?" Yukari asks as they sit down opposite from her. Makoto shifts a little so that he'd be about to sit a little straighter. She regrets the loss of his warmth, so she takes his hand in hers instead. He doesn't say anything about it.
"Pretty good, I guess," Sanada mumbles. "You?"
"Great," She hums, leaning a little forward. "Mitsuru-senpai… you're still pretty red, huh?"
"Shut up, Yukari, don't be Yamagishi 2.0, please," The heiress moans, burying her face into her hands.
"Sorry," She says, giggling lightly. After a moment of comfortable silence, in which she revels in the feeling of Makoto's hand squeezing hers lightly, the feeling of his callous, scarred skin on hers and the warmth of his fingers, she murmurs. "Are you guys nervous?"
"Yeah," Sanada hums. "Anyone would be. Well, except you, Yuuki, since nothing seems to faze you anymore, huh?"
"I guess," He says with a small shrug. "Although, I'm still kind of worried… I know we'll be able to carry it out, but I want to make sure all of you will survive."
"We will," Yukari says firmly, tightening her grip on him. "We will carry it out, and all of us will live."
"Yukari's right," Mitsuru says with a small nod. "We will, and then we'll meet again on Graduation Day, like we've promised."
Makoto seems to ponder on the words for a while. It isn't like he's doubtful, but something bothers him. She's been seeing that for a while now, and while it's true that he's lied to her — them — before, there is no indication of him lying by omission this time; Ryoji did tell them all they need to know, after all. Then again, he had confessed before that he's still nervous, even if he's confident in ther victory, so she guesses it's just jitters; he's known for being pessimistic as all hell. Although, something's nagging at the back of her mind. What, though? She isn't quite sure, but it isn't a good feeling. It's the same as before he's shot, where shivers are running up and down her spine and dread is crawling and pawing at the back of her mind.
She shakes her head, getting rid of the thoughts, before smiling at him. He smiles back, his eyes so soft and warm, gentle like spring. She resists the urge to kiss him right here and leans into his shoulder instead, their fingers deeply intertwined. "We definitely will. I want to see past this spring, and the next, and the next, too."
"We're as ready as we can be," Sanada comments. Yukari could feel the reluctance in his movement, but his hands are gentler than she used to see as he takes Mitsuru's hand, squeezing it lightly, before letting go. "I agree with you not planning any more Tartarus training until the promised day, Yuuki. We need as much rest as we can, and it's not like a week of training would make much difference anyway."
Makoto just shrugs, and she yelps a little in protest. He apologizes with a quick pat to her head. "Yeah. We'll discuss the strategy on the morning of the 31st, since it's Sunday. We'll have plenty of time to plan then."
He seems to stop himself from saying something, something she isn't quite sure what. He hides it very well. Although she sees no frown on his face and no tenseness in his shoulders. When he snorts a laughter, mostly to himself, she tiles her head. "What?"
"Nothing much, I'm just thinking whether we should cook for you before or after the fight. I just realized now that either choices are pretty terrible."
"…Huh, yeah, you'll either be too stuffed to fight or too tired to not nod off into the bowl," Sanada chuckles, and Yukari huffs slightly.
"You worry about the strangest things and the weirdest times, you know," She says, rolling her eyes.
Makoto smiles, but says nothing more.
Mitsuru only smiles before she murmurs quietly. "I'll relay the gathering on the 31st to the others later. Enjoy the rest of the month, you two."
"You too, Senpai."
The first thing he does when he closes the door behind him is to kiss her, without even bothering to turn on the lights.
His hands are tangled in her hair, pulling, tugging, a bit more forceful than he used to be. She's left breathless as he advances, an untold hunger in the way he moves, his lips still careful and tender, but intense unlike his usual conduct. He pushes her further back until she feels the bed hitting the back of her knees, and then she's falling onto the mattress, with his lips still on hers, his breath hot, his hands firm, his chest heaving.
She isn't given the chance to ask what's gotten into him as he kisses downward, nibbling oh-so-carefully down her jawline, sending sparks of anticipation across her skin. His tongue tracing the skin of her neck is sending her thoughts haywire, and she moans, nails digging deep through the fabric of his cloths. She yelps when she feels the dull hardness of his teeth on her skin, marking her ever so gently, and shivers when she feels his rough hands caressing her thighs. Open mouth kisses are peppered lower until he's met with the edge of her off-the-shoulder dress, and he pulls back, his breaths coming out in pants, faint puffs of smoke accompanying each exhalation like fogs in the morning.
She sits up, her face hot and her breaths faster than she has thought. She looks at him, at his eyes that's hiding something, at the brows that's slightly furrowed, at his mouth – that was, just a moment ago, setting her skin on fire like blazing tongue dancing across the surface of oil – and at his hands, slightly trembling an unsure, while just a minute ago they've been so bold, so demanding.
"Makoto?" She whispers as their frantic breathings settle down. He looks away as he pulls his body off hers and sits down on the bed, his lips set into a thin line. She frowns slightly as she reaches over, cupping his cheeks in both of her hands. She isn't sure why he's reluctant now, when he seems to be so sure just moments prior. "Makoto, I really won't mind you continuing. What's wrong?"
She's unusually bold, she knows, but she's thought about this for a while now. The end of the world is upon them, and while he's promised to see spring together with all of them, there're still chances that… not everyone will come out of it alive, slim as they may be. And when she thinks hard about it, she wouldn't have minded doing it with him. She loves him, unconditionally, deeply, almost to the point of that love being unhealthy. But she doesn't care.
She loves him. She wants to make him happy, correcting the wrongs in his life, as much as her humanly power would allow. He means so much to her, and have done so many things for her, that she wouldn't have minded one bit if it is with him. The thought even makes her happy. And while she's not... brave enough to initiate, she would gladly follow his lead.
"What if…" He begins, his voice rough and unsteady, his hands over hers, lightly grasping them. "What if one of us… what if I don't survive? I don't want you to regret doing it."
"I won't," She says firmly. "I won't, I promise. I want it to be you. You promised you'd live, and I believe you will, but—if the worst comes to pass, I won't regret it. Not now, not ever."
He lets out a laughter that rings like wind chime, that's bright and childish, yet still a bit reserved and controlled. He has always been this way; in control of his expressions, even when his emotions are raging. "I don't want you to regret anything. I know I won't, but you might."
"I could never regret spending time with you," She smiles, pressing her lips softly on his, pulling him into another passionate lip-lock with her arms around his neck. She draws him back down on top of her, their legs tangling, their bodies firm against one another's. After she breaks the kiss, more due to necessity rather than will, she murmurs against his lips. "So please… don't run away from me now. I'm right here, and I'm with you."
He smiles as he pulls back a little again, this time with his hand on the button of his winter coat. He then unbuttons them slowly. "Then… I'll be in your care."
He pulls the coat off and discards it onto the floor before diving back down for her lips again, and she hums into his mouth, her hand absently tracing his chest through his turtleneck, feeling the toned muscles and the scars through the thick fabric. After a moment, she reaches for the hem of his shirt and snakes her cold hands under it, making him hisses into the kiss.
She giggles as she runs her hands across the bare skin, eliciting shaky groans out of him. He kisses down her neck and unclasps the choker with a hand and his teeth, the feeling of his warm breath and soft lips against her skin as he undoes the choker sending her head into a bit of a haze. She tries to focus before reaching for the buckles of his belt and pulls at it until it comes off, then throws it away, followed by the wristwatch she doesn't even know he has been removing.
The absence of light in the room except for the ones from the street lamps outside might or might not have made the both of them exceptionally brazen, but she couldn't complain, with the pleasant, almost addicting feelings of his touches more than worth it. She could feel something in the pit of her stomach, hot and pleasant, as his warm fingers go under the hem of her shirt and ghost along her abs.
After a grunt of annoyance, his hand is on the zipper, and before she knows it, her dress and her bra are already off her body. She almost yelps, but stops when she sees him pulls his shirt over his head in one graceful motion. He then tosses the garment to the floor and kisses her again, slower, gentler this time.
"There's no going back after this, Yukari," He murmurs against her lips as he unclasps her skirt, fingers curling over the edge. "If you want to sto—"
"I don't," She says firmly, putting a hand over his cheek, caressing the area under his eye with her thumb. She smiles and leans up to meet his lips halfway. His reply is as gentle as he comes, so soft and tender, but not afraid. The kiss is careful, slow, and loving, just like how he is. "You don't have to ask again. I'm not backing down."
He smiles. "I see."
He lets her hands roam his marred skin, brushing and patting at scars large and small, making him shiver just minutely. He sighs into the kiss, seemingly content, before he pulls her skirt off, his action too slow for her liking. He kisses the inside of her thigh softly while his hand draws absent circles on the other, making her skin tingle, and she lets out a shaky breath to calm herself down.
Her hands instinctively grab onto her pantie as he attempts to pull it down, and she could feel her face burning up in embarrassment – and excitement – at the prospect of him seeing, well, all of her. They just look at each other for an eternity and a half before he chuckles at her, and she pouts a little. He just hums, kissing her thigh again, before pulling the last piece of cloth on her body off.
She isn't given much time to think on it when he buries his face between her legs, his tongue expertly setting her nerves on fire, and she's biting her lip to stop the moans from getting too loud. Even if their rooms are soundproof, there's no telling whether her loud, unabashed cries of pleasure would escape the confines of the wall or not, and she'd rather not risk it.
Her hands find their ways into his hair, tugging and pulling him ever closer, his breath tickling every bit of her already sensitive skin, his callous and scarred hands gripping and massaging her thighs help little to stop her muscles from cramping up and her toes from curling. She's halfway over the edge when he stops and pulls back, and she looks down to see him smirking, licking his lips teasingly.
She groans. "Come on, don't do this to me."
He laughs as he rubs the back of his neck with his left hand. She couldn't see his other hand, but feels it resting on her inner thigh, finger drawing little lines to ease her up a little. "Your legs were killing my neck. I still want my vertebrae unbroken, thank you."
"You jer—ah!" She yelps when she feels his fingers touching her, and before she knows it, she's already squirming under his careful ministrations. A part of her really, really wants him to go about this a little bit faster, but… well, this is him. Being slow and careful is his nature. She still couldn't help it, though, and mumbles, a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the occasional moans. "Come on!"
"I know, I know," He hums, leaning in to kiss her as he pushes in a finger, careful and light. She's on fire in the most pleasant way possible, and she arches her back into him, her arms circling around his torso, pulling him closer, harder, nails clawing at his back and digging deep into his arm as he adds another digit with even more care than before. He doesn't pause, but holds back a little still. "You okay?"
"Yeah," She says, her voice a bit higher than intended. She breathes and tries to relax, finding herself pulling him down into a kiss again. He hums, keeping the kiss light while she's squirming under him, trying to adjust. After a moment, he pulls away, and only now does she notice that— "Seriously? You're still not naked after all of this?"
"…Sorry?" He says, a sheepish smile on his lips. She blushes when he purposefully licks his fingers clean – he must have been, that subtly devious look is unmistakable. He then climbs off his trousers and underwear in one go, and her blush deepens when she sees just how aroused he is. He simply smiles before reaching for the bedside drawer.
Again, she isn't sure what she supposes would've happened, but… "Why do you have a condom ready?"
"Your offhand comment about sex during dinner a week ago," He says (as if that explains everything) (It does not), ripping the package off the condom (you're way too prepared for this!) with his teeth. When she gives him a stink eye, he just shrugs. "Let me be hopeful sometimes."
"You're actually a pretty pervert guy, huh."
"Don't lump me in with Junpei, thank you," He says quickly, earning himself a giggle from her. He shuts her up (effectively so) with a deep kiss that makes her breathless and sets her lungs alight. She pulls him in until their bodies are flush against each other's, her fingers ghosting along his spine. After a while, he straightens up and nestles between her legs, hands firm on her thighs. "You ready?"
"Mhm," She hums.
The tinge of pain is accompanied by the pleasure, the warmth and the fullness of the act making her moan and her mind a bit of a mess. Her breaths quicken slightly, and her nails are deep into his shoulders. He doesn't flinch nor pull away, perhaps too used to the pain, but she's glad he remains there, steadfast. She bites her lip slightly, brows furrowed, legs tense.
He stays perfectly still, his face full of concern, a hand on the side to support his body weight while the other is on her cheek, his thumb caressing the skin gently, as if to help her adjust. She grips his shoulders a little tighter, whimpering a little as she does. She smiles at him once that little bit of pain is gone and kisses his cheek, hands releasing the tight grip on his skin, urging him to continue.
He grips her hips with one hand before moving slowly, the sparks in her nerves amplified by his guttural growls of pleasure, quiet as they may be. She kisses him to drown out her own moans of pure bliss, her tongue sloppy as she tries (and fails) to deepen the kiss. She could feel him smirking a little, but isn't given the time to dwell on it as he picks up the speed of his movements, still careful and gentle, but now with a little more irregularity.
Her senses are overwhelmed by rapture, her body tenses and aches as his hand finds hers, their fingers interlace, keeping her somewhat grounded. His lips are at the pulse point on her neck, biting, licking, kissing, setting off chains of explosions along her spine that makes her moans just a little louder. She puts her hand on his cheek, pulling him off the crook of her neck for just a second before pulling him down into a sloppy, breathless kiss as she's being sent over the edge.
They climax together, the jolts of lightning that runs through every inch of her skin overpowering her brain for a few moments, making her see white and feel nothing but bliss. After the peak of their ecstasies comes the soothing calm, their hot breaths slowing down, their heaving chests less noticeable. He steals one more kiss from her before pulling away, letting her catch her breath as he peppers loving kisses across her skin in places she doesn't know could feel that good.
His lips reach back up to her forehead before he leans a bit back, steel gray eyes so warm and gentle, his touch still as careful as he is. He then whispers. "You good?"
"Better than good," She says, immediately flipping them over, with her straddling his lap. He yelps at that, but she ignores it as she puts both her hands on his chest, scarred but nonetheless beautiful. "You know, the night's still pretty young. Not to mention that it's Sunday tomorrow."
He blinks stupidly for a second before a laughter bubbles out of his chest, rumbling lowly, but still so gratifying to hear. "And you said I'm the perverted one."
She rolls her eyes. "Just shut up and kiss me."
He doesn't say another word as she leans down to press her lips against his again, and again, and again.
She stirs awake, arm draped over his torso, her face against his chest that's rising and falling slowly, softly.
Yukari lets out a hum and stifles a yawn the best she could, her hand instinctively tracing the scars on his chest and abs, drawing lines and mapping him out, like she'd always do. She glances up to see him still sleeping, breath even and slow, puffs of air tickling her hair ever so slightly. She giggles to herself as she holds him just a tiny bit harder, hoping to rouse him from his slumber.
And rouse him she does, with Makoto groaning lowly, his chest rumbling against her ear. After a moment, he breathes out. "Good morning."
"Morning," She replies, kissing the bit of skin that's scarred red on his chest. "So… I had fun yesterday."
He laughs a little at that. "Me too."
They let silence blanket the air around them for a while, with the only sounds being him pulling the cover higher, tugging her shoulders under it, keeping her warm from the chill air of winter. She hums again, content, and grabs his hand with hers. He recuperates, squeezing her fingers gently, kissing her knuckles softly, like he'd always do.
He presses her hand on his chest, letting her feel his heart beating underneath her palm, the slow, rhythmic thumping always so soothing. He then kisses the crown of her head, always so affectionate, so kind. "Do you want to do anything today?"
"Not that I can think off, no," She murmurs. "But… I probably shouldn't stay here with you forever. While I want to… Fuuka's really going to tease the hell outta me if she notices."
"Chances are, she probably already does?" He says. When she looks up at him, confused, he points at his bedside clock, the needles— "It's 10 am."
She sighs, exasperated. "Holy shit."
"Don't worry, you're not the only one who's going to get a few friendly comments out of our little escapades yesterday," He whispers, amused. She just grumbles, so he pinches her nose a little, playfully. "But yeah, we should get up. Hungry?"
"No," She says, to which her stomach immediately protests with a loud growl. She blushes. "Okay, fine, yes, I'm starving."
"I'll cook for us, then," He chuckles, untangling himself from her (she whines a little at the lost) before getting up, stretching his arms over his head slightly. "We should take a shower first, though."
"Yeah," She says. Before he gets out of bed, however, she pulls at his arm, stopping him. When he looks back, she kisses his cheek lightly, giggling at his slightly pink-dusted cheek. "Love you."
He smiles. "Love you more."
She dresses up with her pajamas he's always kept in his room (as careful as only he could be, and she really appreciates it) and walks up the steps, yawning. She's tired, in the best of ways possible, and sticky as all hell. Once she reaches the third floor, she's greeted by a smirking Fuuka, a red Mitsuru, and a puzzled Aigis. She just eyes them carefully. Before she could say anything, Fuuka hums. "Congratulations."
"Fuuka, shut up," She moans. Then, a pause. "Wait… did you hear?"
"…The woods might be soundproof, but they're, unfortunately, not impact-proof," Is all Mitsuru manages through the deepening redness of her cheeks as she sips on her tea.
…Shit.
"…Did we, like, wake you guys up or something?"
"Not really, but it made me feel like a bit of a voyeur," Fuuka says, looking off to the right.
Yukari rolls her eyes. "Aren't you one already? Uh… no offense."
"Some taken," Fuuka points out, giggling. Aigis just looks so lost she's not going to even begin to try to educate her on this matter. Like, ever. After a pause, the navigator just giggles and returns her attention to the notebook before her. "Don't let me keep you, Yukari-chan. You're probably starving right now."
"Yeah," She sighs. "Afternoon, Fuuka, Aigis, Mitsuru-senpai."
She quickly grabs all the things necessary and rushes for the shower, catching a glimpse of Makoto kicking Junpei in the shin, his face also a bit red, with Sanada and Aragaki looking uncomfortable as all hell (with his hands covering Amada's ears, no less). When they look her way, they just… quickly look away, face crimson, especially Aragaki. She just frowns, but ignores it and goes to the shower anyway.
After a quick one, she comes out refreshed to the table filled to the brim with plates after plates of unnamable food, Makoto already properly showered and dressed (how are you faster than me!?), an apron across his torso, with Aragaki in tow. It seems like the latter's used to people seeing him in his cooking gear by now, since he's no longer sweating bullets or trying to hide it.
She takes a seat, and Makoto follows, exchanging a brief glance. He then moves a little, and Junpei yelps afterwards (he must've kicked him. Totally does), making the rest of the table laugh merrily.
"We're gonna be cooking for yer louses for the rest of the month," Aragaki growls, dropping down beside Sanada. "And that includes the 31st, where we're gonna go kick Death in the ass and celebrate like fucking kings afterwards. And no, I don't fucking care if you're all gonna be dead on your feet by then or not."
Makoto rolls his eyes.
"I most certainly look forward to tasting your cooking, Yuuki, Shinjirou," Mitsuru hums, smiling just minutely. "And I must say, you've improved quite a lot, Yuuki."
He shrugs. "Only because I have the best teacher."
"Can't say the same for Yamagishi, though," Shinjirou says, eyeing the navigator as she pouts a little, pinching his arm and making the older boy yelps. "Ow!"
"That's just mean, Shinji," Sanada chuckles.
"Shut up, Aki."
"Well, let us make the most out of this last week before the final battle, shall we?" Makoto says with a warm smile as he claps his hands together. "And remember, if we do survive after this, we're going to be cooking something wild."
"Easy for you to say, you dipshit," Aragaki growls, but he ultimately sighs and shakes his head, putting his hand together. "But we sure as hell will."
She smiles, putting her hands together as they prepare for the first feast of the week.
They're all going to survive, and the future is theirs for the taking. She's sure of that.
And with Makoto by her side, she thinks there's nothing left for her to be afraid of.
The Fool
"Nervous?"
It's the first thing he hears after coming up to the roof. The battle is tomorrow, and all of them agree that a moment to reflect upon themselves is a good idea. He finds his solace on the rooftop of the dorm, the chill wind biting and gnawing into his very core is, ironically enough, calming him down and giving him some sort of stillness he couldn't have found anywhere else.
He glances to his side as Shinjirou joins him, his large, callous hand on his head again, tousling his hair out of its shape a little. He doesn't mind it. He gives the older man's word a few moments to sink in before replying, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah."
"You've done this plenty of times before, sure ain't gonna be that much different, I bet," The older man hums, pulling his hand away and tugging it inside the pockets of his coat. Then, "It ain't just the jitters, is it? You're hiding something, something you don't want us to know."
He should've seen that coming; that spending so much time with this street-smart person, maybe even more often than with Yukari, would mean that he'd be able to pick up all the little tells his body gives off. Makoto sighs, defeated. He just keeps his eyes on the moon as it grows closer to being full. "…I'm not sure how the rest will take the news… could you keep it a secret?"
Shinjirou narrows his eyes, but says nothing. He then nods. "…Alright. What is it?"
"I'm not going to live to see spring."
"…What?"
His voice sounds betrayed, pained, scared, and Makoto understands that. They've established themselves as something akin to brothers, so it's understandable that he'd react that way. He chances a glance at the older boy's eyes, to see confusion and fear, his scowl deep. He only gives the senior a small smile that doesn't reflect the guilt brewing inside the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry."
"Just… why?"
"Nyx is the manifestation of Death," He explains, his eyes back towards the waxing moon again. "Memento Mori – remember that you will die. It's the fundamental law of the world; if you live, one day, you'll have to die. There's no such thing as defeating Death. But, delaying it? Maybe."
"What're you getting at?" Shijirou growls, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer, to face the fierceness of his eyes as he barks at him. "Makoto, what the hell's the meaning of this!?"
"You can't defeat Death. But you can delay it, you can prevent it sometimes. But not destroy it; to destroy Death itself is to defy the law of the universe. It isn't something possible," He explains, trying his very best to keep his voice calm, collected. "But if Death is the law of the world, then why does it choose now to descend, when it has eons to do so before?"
Shinjirou chews on his tongue, brows furrow, contemplating. If he's like how Makoto knows him, then he'll come to the same conclusion he did. And he does, as expected. "…Man."
"Mankind's wishes for death is calling her down," He says quietly. "And to stop the Fall, I'll have to stop her from ever making contact with those wishes, no matter where they are, not matter what they are. I'll have to seal her—"
"—With your life…?" He says, more an exclamation than a question. "Makoto—"
"I'm the only one who could pull it off," He says, smiling, silently begging for the older boy to see the necessity of his choice, to forgive him. "I'm not even sure if I'll be able to, at all, but there are possibilities that I can, and it's a miracle I'm going to make happen no matter what."
It looks like he wants to say something, but in the end, he doesn't. His grip on his collar slackens, and he looks down, deep sadness unhidden by the scowl and the tense jawline. It takes the older boy a moment before he murmurs, unsure. "…Does anyone else know?"
He shakes his head.
"…That's why you used all of you instead of us," He says quietly. Again, he only nods in response, not trusting himself enough to keep his voice steady. "Makoto, if there's anything—"
"There isn't," He says with a small smile. "To fight a god, you'll need a power that's its equal. I'm not even sure if my Wild Card power will reach that level or not, but I'm the person closest to that."
"…I see," He mutters. "So, you've made your choices quite some time ago, huh?"
"Yes," He says, laughing quietly. "I'm sorry."
"…Don't apologize for wanting to save us, dumbass," Shinjirou ends up saying, and in a manner that has become somewhat of a ritual to them, draws him into a one arm hug, his strong limb slung over his shoulders. "I wish there were some other ways to go about this."
"Me too," He murmurs quietly, his nails digging into his arm as he tries to stop himself from ever crying. He won't cry again, for their sakes, and perhaps… his own, too. "Me too."
"But remember," The man says, carefully. "I won't tell anyone, and… I'm with you. Always."
He smiles. "Thank you, Shinjirou-senpai."
Tartarus is crawling with Shadows, angry growls and ungodly cries of monsters unnamable filling the stale air like howls of wolves, waiting for the preys.
He has to make a decision to push on with Aigis, Sanada, Junpei and Shinjirou, leaving the rest behind to stall the rest of the Shadows. He needs to reach the top of Tartarus, no matter how painful that decision may be. But Yukari told him to believe in her, in them, so he will – he must.
Next comes Strega, whom the rest of his team get into a brawl with. He bites his lip and nods at them before pushing past them, a bullet missing his head, no small thanks to the fact that Takaya is now only left with his usually unused arm.
He runs up the steps, his mind reeling. He dreads having to face Ryoji (his best friend, his Death), but he has to. For everyone's sake, he must. The peak of Tartarus draws ever closer, and he could see glimpse of black feathers scattering in the still wind, the pale moonlight adorning the last steps up to the ground of his final battle.
He falls back when the stair erupts, and up comes the Reaper, its single eye rolling, guns ready, sounds of clinking chains and ungodly moans pulling and twisting the air. He reflexively calls forth Orpheus (his beginning), while shifting Thanatos (his end, his Death, the proof of his bond with Ryoji) to the front of his mind. A dance, and flame engulfs the Reaper like wildfire. He steps forward, only to see the thing still alive, its guns pointing at him.
I bring you Megidolaon.
Elizabeth's voice rings inside his head, and he looks up to see the whitish glow that quickly expands and descends, sending smokes up into the air. Once it's cleared, he's greeted with a sizable hole in the ground, no Reaper in sight. It takes him a moment, but he smiles and closes his eyes, to see the glimpse of the elevator, to see those soft golden eyes that has lend him aid yet again. "Thank you."
He runs up further, the howling wind and the chill air biting through his shirt and into his bones. At last, he is at the top, the battlefield no more than a flat roof, stone pillars circling the area as some kind of ritualistic decorations. He then looks up as feathers, black as night itself, converges and gives rise to the decrepit, decaying wings, the hollow smile and the imposing figure nothing less than a monster from feverish nightmare. But he recognizes it—him—in an instant.
"Ryoji," He breathes as his Death descends, feetless legs touching the cold stones, moonlight covering his figure like a gown. There is a moment of silence, that stretches and expands beyond eons, before he continues, a smile on his lips. "It has been a while."
Ryoji doesn't reply immediately, his visage no longer readable. A pause, then, "That… was my name for a time. I didn't mind it."
He readies himself, sword tight in hand. He's giving off a different, more hostile air. Even if the sense of him remains, this is no doubt something different, something vile. "What are you?"
"As of now… I am a part of Nyx; her Avatar, the Harbinger to bring forth the fall. Nyx and I—there are no longer a distinction to be made. We are one and the same."
There's sadness hiding deep within that voice, the voice that has always been so kind, so cheerful. He could only steel himself as Ryoji—as Nyx Avatar shifts, an Arcana spinning slowly before him until it stops.
"Makoto," As the Arcana of the Magician halts in front of Nyx Avatar, he says, pointing a finger at him. "I act according to Nyx's—to my will. But… I do hope that you'll be able to acquire the miracle you sought. I am Death, the inevitable. To live is to die; they are one and the same. If you wish to bring about the miracle then face me, without falter, with your heart as your guide. Are you ready?"
"Yeah!" He says, pulling the trigger, calling out Orpheus once more.
"The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate… Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope. Yes, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Attaining one's dream requires a stern will and and unfailing determination."
Determination was a foreign concept to him. Why fight so hard when it all's going to end up in flames, when it all's going to be left forgotten? But he knows better, now. To live, is to have something you strive for. Without determination, there is no life.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… the silent voice within one's heart whispers the most profound wisdom."
He's always known, that deep down, his instinct is something he should've trusted. He's been ignoring it for most of his life. Only now does he truly listens to it, and to hear the whispers of wisdom hidden under his fear and self-loathing is liberating.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Celebrate life's grandeur, it's brilliance, it's magnificence."
Life has always been something cruel, something meaningless, something he often wished would be taken away, mercilessly. But now, now that he's here, life is beautiful, so sorrowful, so kind.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer."
Courage is something he only realizes the meaning when he starts to fear death, not for himself, but for someone close to him. When he starts to care, it takes courage to face that fear, to make connections with others, to forge his bonds with people.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… It is indeed a precious gift to understand the forces that guide oneself."
He lives only to die, that was his conduct, that was how he viewed it. There were no intents behind his actions, no thoughts behind his words. But now that he's surrounded by the people he's formed these bonds with, he understands; what drives him to fight, to go this far, is the bonds they share, the love he gives and is given back in return.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… There is both joy and wonder in coming to understand another."
Making bonds allows him to see people in different light. All are unique, with their own drives and goals, with their own little quirks that make him laughs, with their own sadness that makes him cry. It's wonderful in its own way.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… One of life's greatest blessings is the freedom to pursue one's goal."
At first, there's no goal for him to pursue. And then, there are; from the bonds that bind them together come the wishes to make them happy, to see them smile, to make sure they live. To pursue such goal without hindrance makes him feel like he's finally free of the shackles of the past that weighs him down.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… To find one's true path, one must seek guidance amidst uncertainly."
And when darkness looms over him, cloaking him in despair and self-hatred, the steady hands of his friends guide him forward. And it allows him to find himself—his true self—again.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… It requires great courage to look at oneself honestly, and forge one's own path."
It took him his entire life to face his own warped memories. But to face his fear is also to open up a new path with his own two hands. And afterwards… after facing the haunting nightmares, he realized that he's finally free.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Along time exist fate, the bearer of cruelty."
And yet, here he is. Even all the trials that he has passed, all the suffering he's endured, Fate still sees fit that he must fight his own demon, his Death, his dearest, oldest friend. Ryoji.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Only with strength can one endure suffering and torment."
But he has to fight. No matter how painful it is, this is a war he must win. And he will, no matter the suffering, no matter the pain.
All to make sure that those who have given him the meaning of life will have a chance to live on.
"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… In the face of disaster lies the opportunity for renewal."
And here, facing the Goddess of Death, he dimly hopes that somehow, he'll be able to find the meaning of his life beyond the ones he's already established. To live is to die, he knows that. But what else is the meaning of his life beyond that? But he thinks… he's already known it; through facing the Shadows, through defying deaths, through fear and lies and distrusts.
To live is to bond, to help others, to love others.
And he will not let this life, given to him anew, be wasted by some end of the world that's coming down on its own.
"Bring it on!" He bellows, defiant. His body aches, his mind numb, his hands barely able to grip onto his weapons anymore. But he will fight. Because this life is not his alone. And he will not allow it to go to waste.
Upon his declaration, Nyx (Ryoji) lifts up his sword, his wings spread wide like cloak of dusk.
"The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate… Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope. Yet, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed…"
Darkness dances across the blade, and before he could pull the trigger, the sword's onto him, the black flame burning and scalding as he cries out in pain. The shockwave sends him sprawling across the floor, his limbs screaming and burning, his body gasping for air that'll never be enough.
His vision tunnels down as he lies flat, his eyes facing the full moon above, the wings of darkness expanding across his vision as Nyx Avatar says, slowly, carefully.
"Beyond the beaten path lies the absolute end. It matters not who you are… Death awaits you."
No. He'll not let this be the end. The miracle is still there, and he'll grab it, without fail.
"Are you going to give up, Makoto?"
He gasps, surprised, and looks up to see the sapphire blue that's always so intense, yet so kind. To see the pale face covered by the bright yellow scarf. Even if it's an illusion, he doesn't care. This is his Death, his other self, his friend.
He growls out. "No."
"Good," The man hums, reaching a hand towards him. A hand he promptly takes, without falter. "Then stand and fight. It's not over yet."
Thank you, Ryoji.
As Nyx Avatar looms over him, reeking of decay and death, he stands up. Every bond is real, every life precious and kind. And Ryoji—who he's just seen helping him to his feet, who's tall before him as the Avatar of decay, of absolute end… even when he's like this, the bond they share is the real thing.
It's his bond with Ryoji that allows him to see the path forward. And it's Ryoji that's gifting him with this life in the first place.
He saved Makoto, from his own memories, from himself. And he'll not let that be for nothing.
"Persona!"
His head jerks to the side as he hears the whisper of the man he can proudly call his best friend, and rises from the flame is the manifestation of their bond, the personification of Death—his Death—in its purest form.
Thanatos.
The God of Death roars, voice cutting through the stale air like victory cry, and it charges right into Ryoji, sword clashing, sending sparks flying across the night sky. He wills his legs to move as Thanatos takes the fight upwards into the sky above. He knows it won't be able to completely overpowers something that powerful, but a surprise attack from Nyx Avatar's blind spot will do. He will win, even at the cost of his own soul.
They fly and clash like birds of prey, steel against steel, animalistic roar against composed violence and decay that spreads like the black plague. He runs into the cover of the stone pillars at the two of them crashes into the ground. Thanatos rears back to fire a Megidolaon at Nyx, who promptly stabs it through the head.
Go.
The voice whispers, and he listens, leaping off the pillar he's found himself on, his sword ready. He spies Nyx Avatar trying to raise the giant blade to defend itself, but there's a slight delay—
—Delay that enables him to stab Nyx through the forehead, ending the fight.
He collapses onto his knees, panting, his body aching and screaming. Something doesn't sit right—this is easy, too easy.
"Makoto!" A voice calls, and he turns to see his friends (his life) coming up. They're battered, they're beaten and bloodied, but they're alive. He smiles tiredly at them as he gets to his feet. Then he hears Yukari says. "Are you okay?"
He only nods, before something tugs his eyes up towards the moon. And then he realizes.
This is not the miracle Ryoji mentioned. I've yet to reach it!
"Close… you were all so close," Nyx Avatar says as he rises up, tipping his balance and making him fall. He looks, in horror, as the wingspan extends, and the Avatar melts into the night like ink into the water. "Such a pity. You understand fate, yet you still fight against it with all of your will. If more people were like you, then perhaps the Fall could've been prevented…"
Makoto, a voice rings in his head as his body begs him to give up. Once more. Show me your resolve. Make that miracle happen.
And as that red eye glares back into his soul, he knows, instinctively, that Nyx is the moon.
Nyx is the fucking moon.
Before they could do anything else, waves of gravity crashes down into them, forcing them to their knees. He tries to stop them, but each of his friends summon their own other selves and send them up towards the falling moon. And as another wave comes, they all dissipate, turning into nothing.
Get up. I have to get up. I have to do something.
He forces himself up against the gravity, but is forced back down, gasping. He hears someone calls in a panic, and he looks up to see Shadows crawling up the side of the tower like relentless tides of the dark sea, devouring, ever consuming.
I won't let them die. I won't let anything take them away from me!
"I know that you've already reached The Answer, but to carry out this miracle requires an unbending will, Makoto."
He opens his eyes, to see himself sitting in the expansive darkness, so soothing, so cold. He sits on the intricate blue couch, and opposite from him is Ryoji, his eyes forever kind, his smile eternally forlorn.
"Even if you have to end up forever in agony, would you still do it?"
"Yes."
"Even if you're cursed and forgotten, even if your name is spit upon, would you still do it?"
"Yes."
Ryoji smiles sadly. "Their fates are in your hands now, Makoto. Save them. For the both of us."
His eyes snap open, to witness the unrelenting waves of darkness consuming his friends, his family, the people he loves, one by one. Even if it hurts, he forces himself to stand up, the power that would allow him to reach Nyx's true body now within his grasp.
He fires the Evoker twice, drawing out his Orpheus (his beginning) and Thanatos (his Death, his end) into the world, ignoring the searing burn at the back of his mind. And then they melt into one another, his life and his death, his beginning and his end. He looks up at the moon as the gentle light envelops him, the light that soon burns the Shadows away, like the sun ridding the world of the unending night.
He turns to them, looking each in the eye. He could see realization dawning on their faces as he smiles, the Evoker in his hand slipping onto the ground. He then points his finger at Yukari, who's crying, who's begging him not to go.
"Live."
"Stop! Please, stop!" She tries to reach for him, but the merciless wave of crushing gravity doesn't let her. He only smiles as he turns to look up at the moon, at the red eye of Nyx, at the Fall. There is one more miracle he has to carry out. He'll do it, even if it hurts. For the bonds he cherishes, he must.
Messiah's light lifts him off the ground, and he lets a drop of tear cascades down his cheek as he murmurs quietly, for nothing and no one except his own broken soul to hear. "I'm sorry. And thank you, all of you, for everything."
He discards the last of his regrets, of his heartbreak into the night as he ascends to meet the moon, the very god whose existence cannot be defied nor stopped. But he will—with whatever miracle he can make happen, with his own two hands.
Messiah turns into particles of light that envelops him, warm and gentle, as it leads him deeper into the tunnel of blackness, of death and agony, of pain and suffering. And at the end of the twisted path lies the core of the being he has to seal away, lies the very heart and soul of Death, of Nyx.
As soon as his feet touch the endless dark, bolt of searing flame engulfs him, and he screams in pain as it burns deep into his very soul.
Even if you're all alone, you're not lonely by any means.
He takes a knee, his hands planted on the ground, panting, trying to force himself up. Against this despair, he will not fail.
Yuuki-san, don't let it end like this!
Yuuki! No matter what happens, you and the rest of us are one!
One more time. He has to get up. Again. Until the Fall is thwarted, until their lives are free.
By itself, each one is a minuscule power. But, without a doubt, they're all directed towards you. Close your eyes and listen well, Makoto-san… these voices, nearly imperceptible…
Have they reached you, I wonder?
"…Yeah," He grunts, a smile on his lips even as his face is scrunched up, pain running through his nerves like wildfire. "Yeah, I can hear them. All of them."
He grunts again, forcing himself back up on his feet. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how exhausted his body gets, he will see this through.
Please, give Yuuki our strength—the strength to stand up to the Fall!
Please… give Yuuki-kun our strength, our hope!
Don't be the only one looking cool! I'm coming right now, so hold up!
He smiles. He could hear them clearly, even through this blazing haze, even through this excruciating pain, against this bone-deep exhaustion. They're right here with him.
Makoto-san, you promised to come back, didn't you? So please…!
Makoto, you better see this damn thing through, or I'mma punch your ass back into the sun!
Makoto… please, don't leave me alone. Please win. Please, live!
He forces himself up straight, even as his legs are screaming at him, even if his lungs are burning. His hand twitches, and he could hear Ryoji's soft, kind voice at the back of his mind.
Let's go, Makoto.
The flame envelopes him again, but this time, he doesn't falter.
For both you and I, this is the last power.
The power of the beginning and the end. The power that started it all, as well as the power that will end it all. What you have acquired is The Universe; literally, space itself. With this power in hand, you may yet stand a chance against the absolute, the undefeatable.
By now, any realization is no longer a miracle to you. Nothing is impossible.
The air, stale, is warm, no longer burning and scorching like the purgatory for the sinners. The power of the bonds he's forged is now here, within his reach.
If harboring Death was your destiny, then so was acquiring the power of the Wild Card. It is time; accept your fate, Makoto-san.
He knows. This is his end, the last page of his tale. He doesn't mind it.
He's achieved the miracle he so desperately sought.
He can say proudly, now, that he's had a good life, brief as it may be.
Soon, we will reach the top floor.
He raises his hand upward, a finger against the vast darkness that threatens to consume all.
Your contract has now been fulfilled. My job is now completed.
You are the best guest I've ever had.
"Thank you."
He smiles, and lets the light engulfs him whole, stretching his life and soul across the expanse of space, creating a barrier that would forever prevent Nyx from coming into contact with countless wishes for deaths.
And soon, everything goes white.
He wakes up to see himself on the same couch, in the same place, facing the same person.
Somehow, he feels… freer than ever before.
"Congratulations," Ryoji says, a gentle smile on his lips, eyes forlorn but proud. "The miracle has been splendidly carried out. The world is saved."
He laughs, free and unchained by any worries. "I see. That's good."
"…I'm sorry, Makoto," Ryoji says as he stands up, walking over to him. Before he could ask why, he's pulled into a hug, and he could hear the barely audible sobs coming from his Death. "I'm so sorry. I want you to live."
"It's okay," He murmurs, hugging the boy back. When he pulls away, he smiles. "So, I guess this is it, huh… I wonder if I've made my parents proud."
"You definitely did," He says with a chuckle. "Yeah, you definitely did."
There's a pause.
Then, "I think… you can do it. One more month."
"…What?"
"You promised them, right? That you'll meet up on Graduation Day?"
He only nods. It's the promise he's not able to keep, and he'd endure an eternity of pain just for a chance to carry that out.
"I think you can," Ryoji says, as if managing to read his mind. "One month. The Seal won't break and bend even if you keep a little bit of your soul with you until then."
He sighs and smiles, closing his eyes and tipping his head up. "I guess so."
"Do you want to?"
It's painful. He doesn't want to face them. He could offer nothing else but sorrow, but they taught him better than that. "…Even if it hurts, I want to see them, just one last time. One more month. One more spring."
"It's going to be exhausting and painful, to cling to a piece of your soul for a whole month, to see people you love forget about you," He says, quietly. "But… I know you're not going to back down, are you?"
"Of course not."
Ryoji laughs merrily. "Then go. We'll meet again soon, as much as it pains me to say."
Makoto only smiles. "See you later, then."
The blocks of bricks and stones shift and change back into Gekkoukan high as Tartarus disappears, the imposing tower no longer in this world, its purpose unfulfilled, it's existence unnecessary.
He could see them down there, and as soon as he steps across the threshold, he smiles, hiding the exhaustion underneath. He sees Aigis crying, tears dropping from her eyes like rainfall. As soon as his feet touch the ground, he's surrounded, cheers and tears of happiness filling the air.
Before he could say anything, Yukari tackles him, almost tipping him off balance. He coughs as the sudden impact pushes the air out of his lungs.
"You idiot. Idiot! You had me worried!" She says, crying into his chest, hands gripping his blazer tight and not intending to let go. He glances up at the older boy, at Shinjirou, and a conversation seems to pass between them.
He says nothing as the older boy sighs and nods, his smile both happy and sad. He then looks down at the girl before him and circles his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. He then buries his face into the crown of her head and murmurs.
"I'm home."
They're his home. This place is his home.
And he wouldn't have it any other way.