My word, but I've been gone a while. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have no excuse save general laziness, schoolwork, and a lot of video games. Is it just me, or are zombies just everywhere in video games nowadays?

But you didn't come here to hear my excuses (for which I apologize). You came here for a story!

But first, review responses.

Miss Hanamura- NEVER!

Fan of Fanfics21- Never thought of it, but I'm not sure about using a review gimmick. It just doesn't seem... me. Also, I'm glad you enjoy this story.

SuperNova23- This is true. And the final question earns a "no". Also, here is a band-aid. *hands you a band-aid*

Ginshi-chan- My apologies, but the world is not yet ready for that kind of advancement in blanket technology.

LMFAO314- A striking possibility, but I just don't think it would work. Sorry, one man's opinion.

AkaiArsony- Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much. I imagine that Shinjiro's cooking is somewhere on the level of a master chef. So yeah.

Well, here it is! Sorry to make you all wait!

Enjoy!

I do not own Persona 3.

Sincerely,

-Funny.

Minato groaned as he felt a rather familiar sensation tickle his throat. An awful, sort of liquid-like ripple traveling up his throat. He grimaced in a sort of grim anticipation as he felt the ripple reach the back of his throat.

He sat up and gave a little half-sigh, preparing.

Then he belched. It was somewhat audible, and if any of the women of the dormitory were around, each and every one of them would have flinched in disgust at the sound- except perhaps Aigis- which utterly fails every descriptive word ever recorded in the dictionary.

"Excuse me." he groaned miserably, flopping back onto the mattress, wincing slightly.

"Note to self. Buy foam mattress pad." he grumbled. Needless to say, he hadn't been in a pleasant mood. The sun was beginning to peek through the solemn gray clouds every now and again, and his own body was beginning to show signs of improvement. The aches and pains, once so severe, had dulled to momentary annoyances that only flared during extreme motion. His headache had receded, and his cough had all but vanished.

But, when one problem disappears, another appears. This time, in the form of chicken noodle soup.

Not that he wasn't grateful for it, of course- he wasn't a jerk, after all. But one man can only take so much of the same food before it begins to plague him.

In this case, his most recent burping fit.

Chicken noodle soup does not taste any better in a gaseous form, not to be gross about it.

He shrugged. Nothing to do about it but wait. He'd be better soon, and he promised himself a gigantic Wild Duck burger when he finally got out of his bed, or to be more accurate, when the rest of the dorm let him out of here.

"It could be worse.", he mused. "I could have slept for three whole days, with none of my dorm mates attempting to help or aid me in any way. That would have sucked."

Random musings aside, he plucked a book off his bedside table, and flipped open to a random chapter. His eyes had barely begun to register the print, when he heard a rather harsh knocking on his door.

"Come on in, Akihiko." He said, not taking his eyes off the pages. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a familiar shade of red. His guess was right on the money.

"How'd you know it was me?", the boxing champion asked.

Minato grinned. "You hit the door like a punching bag."

Akihiko shrugged. "Bad habit." he moved forward, an odd crinkling sound accompanying his slightest motion, which did not escape Minato's notice.

"What's that sound?" he asked.

Akihiko grinned and held up the bag for Minato to see. It was translucent and yellow, but what grabbed Minato's attention was the condensation forming around the mouth of the bag, and the mouthwatering scent of cooked beef filling the room.

Beef! Minato thought excitedly. He had had chicken so often, he had almost forgotten what other foods tasted like.

"I thought you'd be getting hungry, so I managed to convince Mitsuru to get you something. The typhoon's dying down, so some of the stores were open. This is only a grocery store bowl, though. Is that oka-"

He didn't get any further as the bag was now mysteriously out of his hands and on Minato's lap.

"Eager, aren't you?" he chuckled.

"Extraordinarily. Chicken noodle is all well and good, but a beef bowl…" he let the sentence hang, knowing the boxer would understand.

And understand he did. After fishing around his jacket pocket, he produced a pair of disposable chopsticks and tossed them to Minato. He caught them and thanked Akihiko.

He surged off the praise. "But remember," he added, "you owe me big for this."

"I do. How about a Hagakure run when I'm out? My treat!"

Akihiko smiled. "I'll hod you to that."

Without any further stalling, Minato dug into his beef bowl with alarming speed and ferocity. He was done before Akihiko knew it.

Dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin, he yawned loudly and felt his eyelids start to droop. Taking the hint, Akihiko started for the door.

Before he reached the door, however, a familiar voice said a drawn-out "thank you" through the yawn.

Akihiko allowed himself a final chuckle.

"You're welcome."

And now we have only a few chapters until this tale reaches its end.

Please review.

Sincerely,

-Funny.