Disclaimer: I do not own Persona 3—or any version of the Persona series, really. I just own this rather shameless piece of work.

Other Notes: To be honest, I'm relatively proud of how far this story has gotten in terms of both plot and length, since my other story for Fire Emblem: Awakening has been frozen for a long time at an early part of its plot. I keep trying to write more for it, and am rewriting the chapters I do have, but it's so excruciatingly slow because I have absolutely no motivation for it. I don't want to declare it dead (though admittedly it more or less has been), but it's become a chore trying to return to it…

Anyways, shorter chapter, but two rather significant exchanges occur, setting up for events to come. I tried to think of an extra to tag along to tide you guys over, but I couldn't think of anything fitting. The soundboard says I should offer for you guys to let me know what you might want to see in one for future chapters—can't promise anything, of course, but the offer's still there!

Symbiosis

Chapter Thirty-Six

Minato knelt before Koromaru, lifting a hand to brush his fingers through the soft fur on the shiba inu's head.

Red eyes stared attentively up at him. Pointed ears angled forward, alert.

"It's now or never, Koromaru," Minato murmured. "Help me out?"

Koromaru barked. It sounded like "Of course!"

"So is there no way we can at least try to talk to Shinjiro?" Minato asked, frowning. "Ken's side kind of alarms me. One wrong word and we could shoot the whole plan to hell."

"The thing about Shinjiro is that he pretty much doesn't care about his life right now," Tamamo answered wearily. They were situated in Minato's mindscape, at a small and round garden table she'd conjured up near her shallow lake. "Judging by how bad his coughs are, the effects of the suppressants have really done a number on him. It's likely that he thinks he doesn't have much longer to live, so he's putting his all into atoning for his actions, accidental or not, against Ken and his mother."

"Then… it's useless?" The words left a bitter taste in Minato's mouth. "He'll just die no matter what?"

"Not quite. If he were really too far gone, I don't think even his stubbornness would have kept his condition from getting out. But the fact that he's steadily creeping up on that limit means that he's going to cling very hard to what he believes should be." She tilted her head back, pursing her lips. "There is a scenario in which the event was altered, somewhat. To the point that he didn't die outright but was put into a coma. But even that took the rest of the month to pull off."

"…And we don't have that sort of time."

After retrieving his shoes from his room and slipping them on, Minato went down to the lobby, Koromaru trotting faithfully at his side.

Yukari glanced up as he touched down from the stairs. She tilted her head when she saw him. "Heading out, Minato-kun?"

He dipped his head in confirmation. "Doctor said I could do some light work. Figured I'd take it easy and take Koromaru out for a walk."

"Oh, okay." She looked mildly worried. But then, her lips quirked as she addressed Koromaru, "Make sure he doesn't push himself, all right, Koro-chan?"

An affirmative bark was her reply.

Minato sighed. Was there no faith in him telling his own limits?

Junpei chuckled from his spot on the sofa. He looked… better than the last time Minato had properly seen him. He didn't look quite as lost or as openly hurt, but he was certainly more subdued than his usual outgoing demeanor. "Not taking any chances, eh, Yuka-tan?"

"Not even a little bit," Yukari agreed firmly. "Minato-kun has the worst luck I've ever seen."

"Amen," Tamamo muttered.

Ignoring Junpei's responding laughter, Minato strode over to the lounge entrance. But midway, he paused deliberately, tossing a glance over to the other occupant in the lounge. "Ken."

The boy's head turned away from the television screen, large eyes blinking in confusion.

Minato glanced down to Koromaru, who merely stared back at him, expectant. "…Did you want to come with?"

Yukari's and Junpei's curiosity all but emanated from the other side of the lounge as Ken's expression morphed into surprise. "Me?"

He felt the urge to shrug, but tamped it down for a more affirmative nod. "Yeah."

Just like when Minato had invited him out to the movies, Ken visibly hesitated for a brief moment before agreeing, hopping out of his chair. He was still in his uniform, so he didn't have to change or retrieve his own shoes, instead bounding right up to where Minato and Koromaru were waiting at the door. When he looked up at the teen, there was a small smile on his face.

Just a little shy, not quite open, but trusting enough.

Good, Minato found himself thinking as he opened the door and let his two companions pass through before him.

"Good," his Other agreed.

"All right. Then… Ken?"

"Is a child, for all that he is more mature than most others his age and able to summon and wield his Persona," Tamamo supplied. "It sounds cruel, but it would be much easier to… manipulate things from his side."

"How exactly would we do that?" There was movement in the corner of Minato's eyes and he glanced in its direction out of reflex, blinking when he saw Pharos wander out from a cluster of lilac-colored trees, tracing the trunk of one with a small, pale hand. "Ken's not exactly stupid."

"I never said he was," said Tamamo, looking in the same direction he was staring. "Just that it would be easier, relatively speaking. Shinjiro feels he's already hit the bottom and has nothing left to lose, so attempting to break through to change his mind would be like trying to break down a mountain with a pebble. You can be as forceful as you want, but in the end you're just adding to his defenses. He needs to be worn down with time, like a river cutting through stone. But, again, we don't have that sort of time. Not if we want to be more effective.

"Conversely, Ken has had tragedy in his life, that much is true, but he hasn't reached his limit yet. He hasn't hit that breaking point, where a 'choice' becomes a shield." As if sensing their staring, Pharos looked up and met their gazes. After a moment, he lifted a hand in greeting, if a bit stiffly, like he didn't really know what he was doing. Minato found himself lifting his own hand in return just a split second after Tamamo. "He thinks he has, in the way that children always believe that they know their limits. But he is both stronger and more fragile than he knows… Left alone, he'll be forced to that threshold and will make his choice. But until then, he's malleable."

Minato lowered his head in thought. Listened to what his Other was saying and, more importantly, wasn't saying. "In other words, you want to throw stones in a glass house."

Tamamo sighed. "It's ugly, but… yes."

Naganaki Shrine wasn't far from the dorm by any means, but it also wasn't quite close enough for the casual walk that this was meant to be. Still, Minato guided his little group there, thinking up a number of excuses to use if Ken asked why they'd gone so far when Minato should still be taking it easy. Luckily for him, Ken said nothing and actually seemed at ease on the shrine grounds as they reached the top of the stairs. Koromaru was, too, but that was a given considering his attachment to the place through his previous owner.

Minato sat on a bench to the side as he let Koromaru loose (carefully avoiding the bench he'd usually sat with Akinari on, out of respect). Ken seemed to debate as to what to do for a moment before joining him.

They watched Koromaru wander around the shrine for several minutes before Minato spoke up, trying to emulate Tamamo's casual serenity. "You know, I haven't really had the chance to ask this since everything's been so hectic lately, but how've you been holding up?"

"Huh?" Ken blinked. "Me? Um… why do you ask?"

Minato lifted one shoulder in an almost careless shrug. "Like I said, things have been hectic. You just came to the dorm one day and got dragged into all this craziness…" He felt a nudge from Tamamo and listened to it, giving a small, self-deprecating smile. "I know I don't talk much in the way of check-ins with you and the others after fighting." He usually looked them over by sight for the more egregious wounds and conditions, trusting them to alert him of anything else. "But after getting that head injury… I figured I'd ask."

"Oh… Well, I'm okay," Ken mumbled. "It's not so bad, you know. I can handle it."

"Yeah, you're pretty mature like that," Minato agreed. Another nudge from Tamamo. "I mean, I don't think I could handle what we do when I was your age." Hell, he could hardly deal with it now. "Just thinking about it is kind of crazy."

The younger boy looked up at him a little doubtfully. "I guess…"

He chuckled, a brief but genuine little thing before he segued into the part he was more leery about. The part that Tamamo had reluctantly coached him on, apologizing even as she tried to justify the need for it. "It's true. I mean… I guess you could say that I can… sympathize, in a way."

"What do you mean?" Ken asked quietly. His tone was a bit flat, enough that Minato couldn't tell whether he was suspicious or simply being tactful.

Minato kept up a smile—"It's disarming," Tamamo had said—though it was a rather sad excuse for one. "My parents… they died in an accident when I was little. About six, I think. So I remember how it felt, being young and fighting my own demons and the rest of the world at the same time. Maybe not so literally, but similar."

There was silence as he contemplated her words. As she warned him, the base of the idea sounded horrible in the attack-on-his-morals kind of way. If he chose to agree to try to carry it out, it would be him throwing the proverbial stones, picking away at a kid's weakness and tragic backstory in order to make him crack. He could be as kind as he wanted, but in the end it was all the same.

But if it saved Shinjiro, if it saved Ken himself from staining his hands or suffering further mental trauma from having someone die for or because of him, then… would it be worth it?

"I don't think we need to be so direct," Tamamo said slowly, interrupting his thoughts. She'd likely felt the feedback of his emotions and chose to interject. "You won't need to attack him straight on. Just… implant ideas, I suppose. Redirect him from his revenge. Guide him to a different line of thought."

"How would I do that?" Minato asked, genuinely curious. He wanted to make it work. Had to. But he didn't know exactly how he could.

"Kids are… Children think differently compared to adults," Tamamo began slowly. "They have different needs. Ken might act like a mini adult, might be a little jaded from his mother's murder, but I think people forget he's still only ten or eleven years old. He needs… attention. Affirmation. The police were given an explanation for his mother's death, and told him it was his imagination when he saw Shinjiro's Persona. That's damaging for a child. So I think… If you give him a reason to consider you trustworthy enough to talk to, let him know that you'll hear him if he does… I think he'll talk. Especially now, as it gets closer to the anniversary."

"Can we be sure, though? What would make him talk to me now when he didn't in that other timeline?"

"Well, in the original, neither you nor the other members of SEES had any real reason to think that anything was wrong… not enough to confront him. Akihiko and Mitsuru knew about his mother, I think, and Shinjiro has obviously never thought of anything but that day… but, like I said, Shinjiro's fixated on atoning for what he did. And I don't think Akihiko and Mitsuru realized just how stubborn and frayed both he and Ken were."

Minato grimaced. He could see that all too easily. Ken, for his part, didn't act like anything was out of the ordinary. He was a little withdrawn, sure, and maybe a bit stressed at times, but nothing that called for attention. He didn't avoid Shinjiro overtly, working with him even in Tartarus. If Tamamo hadn't told him, Minato would definitely have missed everything until it was too late. "So I… talk to him? Let him know he can talk to me about anything?"

"Not as such," Tamamo said. "He won't like being handled with kiddie gloves, since he'll probably figure out you haven't extended the same courtesy to everyone else. But if you frame it right, play on the idea that it's not his age that has you concerned but something else, then he might be more amenable."

"And your idea for that is…?"

His Other gave a wan smile. "Well, he's not the only one with a tragic backstory involving parents being killed during the Dark Hour."

"I guess I just want you to know that I get it, at least somewhat," Minato continued. "How people don't really expect you to understand a lot of things since you're just a kid. Or that you aren't as affected because they think you don't understand…" Tamamo whispered something, and he relayed her words after a brief pause, "…That life's rough no matter what age you are, and living's a hell of a lot more difficult than how they make it out to be."

Ken stared at him. If he could have, Minato would have stared at his Other in turn, as that last bit was a lot more bitter than what they'd initially agreed on divulging.

But Tamamo said nothing, and eventually Ken looked away, a complicated expression on his face. He didn't mention the last part of Minato's rambling, instead returning to an earlier part. "An accident, huh? Did they tell you what happened?"

In the back of his head, Tamamo muttered something that sounded a lot like "I knew it."

Minato ignored her for now, tilting his head slightly. "The official report was that it was a car accident," he said carefully, watching the younger boy's expression. "For the longest time, all I could really remember was my dad driving us home late at night and then waking up in the hospital."

Ken's brows furrowed. "…Do you remember something else now?"

Minato nodded slowly and divulged, like a secret, "I can't remember it clearly, but it was during the Dark Hour. I know that now. I was conscious briefly for it and the car had been fine when it started, but then I passed out sometime during it. When I woke up again, I was already in the hospital and both my parents were dead. The police said that the car had been totaled and went up in flames."

It left a bad taste in his mouth to use his parents' deaths in such a way, but he had to believe they'd forgive him if it meant saving two of his friends. There was no way to tell its immediate effect, but with the way Ken's eyes widened, likely taking all of the details he'd left out and supplementing them with his own, he couldn't help but think that he'd succeeded in moving a step towards that.

That night, after the trio returned to the dorm in thoughtful silence and Minato turned in after admitting he'd been more tired out by the walk than he thought he would be, Tamamo sat by her shallow lake in Minato's mindscape, deep in her own thoughts.

Minato's exchange with Ken had gone relatively well, all things considered. Ken appeared to have genuinely taken his words to heart. He hadn't even seemed all that suspicious of their little personal chat.

Perhaps it was the effect of their little morning get-togethers that helped on that front. With Minato willingly watching cartoons and shows otherwise labeled as "For Kids" without being patronizing and even actually being interested in them (even the movies, though Tamamo still did not understand Amoebaman), Ken knew he wouldn't judge him for however he acted. Combined with how Minato didn't coddle him or otherwise look out for him more than any of the other members of SEES while in battle, it probably gave Ken a greater knowledge of Minato's sense of fairness.

That if he chose you to go, it was because he felt your power was needed. That if he didn't, it wasn't because he doubted your strength, but because he was being practical and wouldn't risk your life when someone better suited was around. And that when he spoke, whether to give orders or simple advice, he wanted you to listen and trust him, but only because he would listen to and trust you in return.

More often than not, Tamamo wondered if that was the true power of the Wild Card, that charisma, or if the Wild Card was simply bestowed upon those who already possessed it.

Long ago, the faint beginnings of that trait had scared Tamamo. He hadn't even signed the contract for the Wild Card yet, but he'd already begun to show traces of stepping behind numerous personalities to get through his days. She'd feared that he would lose himself. Feared that he would become the empty vessel his game counterpart was known for being, and that he would simply allow himself to be pushed and molded in the image of other people forever.

But he hadn't. Rather than getting lost between the myriad masks that his Personas resembled, he took them all into himself. He accepted them, accepted that he would act a certain way with a certain person but not with someone else. Yet, at the same time, he subconsciously understood that beyond those masks he was still himself. That at his core he was Minato, but that, just as in battle, he would sometimes have to shift and adjust as necessary.

A true Wild Card, always adapting.

"It is rather amazing, isn't it?" Pharos's airy voice spoke up from beside her.

Tamamo glanced to her side, where Pharos materialized to sit barely a foot away. Then, fixing her gaze back to the distance, she hummed in agreement. "He is."

"Alone, he would be perfect," Pharos continued. "A blank slate. A white canvas. Pure. Waiting to be turned into something great."

The perfect Wild Card. The perfect vessel.

The perfect sacrifice.

A wry smile twisted at her lips and she leaned back, propping herself up with one hand as she turned to regard Pharos. He peered back up at her, curious. Always curious.

"If there's one thing I learned way back in my old life, when I wasn't much older than Minato is now, it's that perfection is highly overrated," she drawled. Then, pausing, she amended, "Well, actually, what I really learned to say was 'Fuck perfect', but that's kind of the same thing."

Pharos tilted his head. "But don't humans strive for perfection?"

"Some do," Tamamo allowed. "But I've always thought of that as a bit of a game for masochists. 'Perfect' is a word with a clear definition but with an execution that's significantly less precise. You can achieve something you think is perfect one day, only for something better, more perfect, to come along the next. And even then, the concept of perfection is still highly subjective—what one person finds perfect can be seen as highly flawed or incomplete by another. And so the cycle is never-ending."

The boy Death's eyebrows furrowed. It was rather cute. "So you believe it is better for him to be… not perfect?"

"…Yes? No? Maybe so," Tamamo replied, which only made his brows scrunch further. She smiled. "I'm only one person, Pharos. Even if I said yes, that's just my belief. My opinion. Someone else could disagree. Free will and speech is funny like that."

"It is very confusing," Pharos agreed slowly. "But… I believe I understand. I'm not sure what he would have been like had he been alone and perfect, but I…"

There was a long pause as he pieced together his thoughts. Tamamo waited, feeling strangely expectant.

Like something big was about to occur.

When Pharos remained quiet, the tilt of his brow taking a vaguely concerned edge, she gently prompted, "But you…?"

"I…" He blinked up at her. Then, plaintive, he said, "I believe I… like… it this way."

She froze for half a second before recovering. "You… prefer how things are now to what could have been?"

Pharos visibly thought, considering the new wording. Then, he nodded. "Yes. I do. Had he been alone, I don't think we could have become friends… like this." He smiled. "And I would not have met you."

And Tamamo's mind whirled, for that smile was unlike any of the others he had given before.

Those expressions that had tried to imitate the characteristics of emotionality, but fell just short of it. Those smiles that had been far too stiff and unpracticed, trying to pick up the nuances behind a smile but not knowing quite how.

No. His smile now—gentle, kind, human—completely eclipsed any other he'd displayed previously.

Because in that smile, she knew, was the birth of Ryoji Mochizuki.