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: I forgot to mention this, but just as a note, Symbiosis will more or less not be including Persona Q. Not actively, at least. Sorry, but honestly people who have played through to the end of PQ basically understand why, right? Other than offhand references, I'd say to not expect anything big. Our protagonists have a bit of a bigger problem to focus on, after all. (If anyone would really like to see anything specific, though, feel free to ask and I'll try to add it in an Extra sometime!)
That said, this was a pretty difficult chapter to write, which is partially why it took a while to update (to make a point, there are six different versions of this chapter alone of varying lengths and beginnings and endings). It's pretty short, but it's also pretty heavy (with some bittersweet scenes with Orpheus to sort of soften(?) the blow), so I opted to err on the side of caution in terms of length.
Also, age of majority in Japan was 20 for a long time, only changing to 18 in 2015, if I recall correctly. As Persona 3 takes place in 2009, Shinjiro is still referred to as a minor despite being 18.
Symbiosis
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Minato's mindscape was always dark, though it was darker whenever he slept, the usual "window" to the outside world closed. There'd never really been a need for light, as there hadn't really been much to see that she hadn't conjured herself until recently, but there was a certain level of comfort in sitting quietly in the ever-growing starlit forest. The ethereal light emitted from the water of "her lake", as Minato put it, was also rather nice.
She lounged by that pool now, humming as she idly drew designs along the surface of the water. The times when Minato was resting were a bit boring, but she'd grown used to it over the years. In fact, this year in particular she cherished the downtime. Even if it only consisted of a few hours before he had to face another day full of tension with her mediocre support, it was better than watching him run himself ragged.
"That is new," a familiar voice spoke, drawing her away from her thoughts. She craned her neck from where she lay on the mini island to see Orpheus hovering some several feet away from her. Thankfully, as he neared he lowered himself slightly, not quite to the floor, but floating much closer to her level as he sat in midair. "Does your song have a name?"
She had to think for a moment to recapture the tune, as she'd been humming rather thoughtlessly. But she nodded. "It's called 'Somewhere over the Rainbow'. My cousins and I used to play and sing it together a lot way back when… It was one of the first songs we learned to play, actually, since it was relatively simple."
The Persona tilted his head slightly in such a Minato-esque way that she had to smile. "You play an instrument?"
"Sort of?" Feeling awkward conversing while lying on her stomach, Tamamo pushed herself to sit up properly. "I learned a bit of the ukulele before, but never really had the interest in anything else."
Orpheus regarded her, face as patiently blank as ever. Tamamo blinked back before suddenly remembering who Orpheus was, Persona aside. Embarrassment flooded in like water through a broken dam.
"M—My dad was really good at guitar, you see, so I had an interest in trying to follow his footsteps a bit! But, ah, I was always pretty clumsy with my hands, or really just my fingers, in anything but, like, cooking s—so I didn't really have good coordination for most instruments! The ukulele was really nice, though, since it was pretty small, I mean. I had an easier time handling it…" Her voice dwindled into a sheepish mumble towards the end. "I was mostly just a singer in my family…"
"I understand," the Master of Strings said kindly. "I have simply never seen or heard an 'ukulele' before, is all. Would you show me?"
Tamamo pressed her lips together, knowing that she was pouting but feeling too amused to scowl like she wanted to. "It's been ten years…"
If he'd been any less formal, she suspected he would have shrugged. "The night is long."
"I'm really not all that good," she insisted. "Like I said, clumsy fingers. My cousins were way better."
"Allow me to judge that for myself."
She flopped to the ground again. "Orpheuuuuus…!"
His face may not have been able to produce fully human expressions, but his voice was expressive enough on its own. She could hear him smile through it, tone all but dripping with amusement. "You could always simply say no."
She huffed. "Yeah, sure." Picking herself up again, she held up her hands and closed her eyes, concentrating on the image of her old ukulele to conjure it forth. "Hold on."
When she had the instrument in hand and practiced strumming a small melody, she peeked up though her bangs to see Orpheus watching her curiously. But always so patient.
He'd helped her so much, especially early on when it all began and she'd needed to learn how to utilize what power she could. The other Personas had been there and would answer her if she'd asked them questions, but Orpheus was… special. He was Minato's initial Persona and, through his own admission, somehow partly hers as well. Even when he hadn't really needed to, he answered her call time and time again, and even stayed with her in the mindscape at times as a silent support.
Regardless of whatever he and Minato asked for, the least she could do was try.
Clearing her throat, she eyed the Persona. "Don't laugh, okay?"
Orpheus dipped his head. "On my honor, I swear I will not."
That drew a smile from her and she ducked her head to hide it. "Mhm…" Then, taking a deep breath, she said, "Okay. Here goes…"
And the lilting, if hesitant, tune of a single ukulele filled the clearing.
After eventually managing to successfully performing the song fully, Orpheus (after obliging her with an applause that made her flush with deep embarrassment) took pity on her and let her stop playing. His verdict on her skill, though…
"Your father would be proud of you, I'm certain," he told her.
His confidence moved her and, though she was sure he was just being nice, she was glad for it even though it made her heart ache with remembered pain.
"He probably would've been more proud if I'd managed to learn to play an actual guitar," she said with a small laugh. She looked down at the ukelele cradled in her hands, running her thumb gently along one curved side. "I could've inherited his, then, rather than let them gather dust."
Not that they wouldn't have gathered dust anyway, what with her being dead and all.
But Orpheus, good and gentle Orpheus, only nodded and let the conversation lapse into silence as she fought to steady her own emotions. There was no real need to hide it, but out of habit she always tried to stem any "episodes" she had that occurred during the night while Minato slept.
(When he'd been younger and she'd had less control, still getting used to her place in his mind, she'd have moments where it hit her, exactly, of what she lost. The first time it'd happened, she'd been swept away in a flood of her own grief and the depth of it had reached Minato and given him a nightmare. He had woken up that night in tears, and had been unable to get a peaceful sleep the rest of the night as her residual sorrow lingered in his mind like a ghost.)
Distantly, she heard Orpheus playing his lyre and closed her eyes, letting herself get swept away in the melody. It was cathartic in its own way, as Orpheus—through Minato's connection to her or some other bond or even his own observations as an artist—managed to capture her mood perfectly in his music. That quiet longing for days gone by, but with a touch of a wistful sort of hope.
Hope for what, though, she didn't know. Not anymore.
"You must've made Eurydice very happy," she murmured as she resurfaced, drawing her legs up to her chest.
There was no pause between notes, no twitch beyond the slight incline of the Persona's head to tell her that her words surprised him. "…I like to think so."
"You did," Tamamo told him, more confidently now. Then, with a wry smile, she added, "You probably broke her heart a thousand times, too, with your music."
The melody slowed to a stop then. In the sudden silence, she could hear the leaves rustle, though there was no wind.
"Did I break your heart?" Orpheus asked gently.
She stared at the water even as she felt her eyes mist over. Subconsciously, she hugged her legs closer and took a deep breath as she blinked the tears away.
"Maybe a little bit."
It was by some strange amount of luck that things didn't immediately snap between Ken and Shinjiro following the former's talk with Minato. But the longer the time stretched on with uneasy tension, the more Minato dreaded the inevitable confrontation.
When everything finally boiled over, all of SEES was gathered in the lounge for one reason or another. As if Fate knew the necessity of them all being present for the meltdown.
As it was, Minato sat at the dining table with his fellow juniors, listening to them chat about the typhoon passing over the city and the seemingly endless rain it brought. Junpei lamented the cancellation of the school culture festival (which Minato had honestly forgotten about), while Aigis asked questions of past festivals that Yukari and Fuuka tried their best to answer. In the main lounge area, the three seniors sat at the couches, not quite close enough to huddle, exactly, but near enough to speak in low tones with one another.
The sound of the front door opening made him look out of habit, and he watched as Ken, drenched from the rain, plodded his way in. Some of the others glanced up as well, but outside of a spare worried look at the boy's condition, they seemed to dismiss it and return to their own devices.
Minato held his breath.
For a moment, Ken seemed to ignore them, ignore everything, as he made his way to the stairs. His head was down, shoulders tense, and his steps were even if a little rushed. But he crossed the lounge without incident.
But just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped.
Out of the corner of his eye, Minato saw Koromaru sit up, ears pricked forward.
Then, Ken turned quickly on his heel and strode back, planting himself firmly before the seniors where they sat. His head was still down, pale hands firmly gripping the straps of his backpack. From the movement of his shoulders, he was taking in deep breaths—and the rest of SEES fell silent as they waited.
"Is it true?"
No one answered, though Minato knew they all heard it despite how low Ken's voice had been. From where he sat, he could see Shinjiro grow still while Mitsuru's brow furrowed.
Eventually, Akihiko, who was mostly turned away from Minato, asked, "…What do you mean?"
Ken ignored him. Slowly, his head rose and he glared directly at Shinjiro. "Well? Is it?"
Shinjiro was remarkably calm as he replied, in as gruff a manner as ever, "You're gonna have to be a little more specific, kid—"
"Don't call me a kid!" Ken snapped, so suddenly and forcefully that Koromaru rose to his feet. To do what, Minato didn't know, but the shiba inu was intensely focused on the growing feud. "Just… Just tell the truth: are you… or are you not really sick? To the point that you're dying from it?"
Immediately, Akihiko's head snapped towards Shinjiro, but the other senior paid no attention to him, his dark eyes honing straight in on Minato's. Minato, for his part, managed to not flinch and instead met the senior's gaze readily.
I'm sorry, he tried to convey. I'm sorry, but…
Shinjiro gave a low, very bitter oath, but it was lost in the flood of what followed.
"Why are you not denying it!?" Ken cried.
"Shinji!" Akihiko rose to his feet. "What the hell is he saying? Is your condition that bad!?"
"Not now, Aki…" Shinjiro muttered, his glare darkening his face as his eyes flicked from Minato to his childhood friend.
The gray-haired boxer looked severely offended. "Before, you didn't talk about the side effects even though you knew… I thought I'd let you do what you wanted since you always handled things best alone, but if I knew your condition was…!"
"I said not now!"
"The hell do you mean, 'not now'!?"
To the side, Mitsuru had the look of someone quickly putting things together and not liking the result. "Akihiko… Shinjiro…"
"STOP IGNORING ME!" Ken yelled, his voice filling the entirety of the lounge. When the trio of seniors fell silent, drowned out by the force of his bellow, Ken was left panting in the middle of the room, dark eyes still fixated solely on Shinjiro.
Shinjiro stared back, jaw shifting noticeably. Surprisingly, he was the one to look away first.
And that was apparently all the confirmation Ken needed, for he whispered a very small, "No," before taking several wobbly steps back, still tracking rainwater on the lounge floor. He shook his head. "No. T—That's…"
The boy's breathing turned very shallow and very quick. So quick that Fuuka began pushing herself up from her seat in worry. "Ken-kun…!"
"That's not fair," Ken finally gasped out, voice thick. "That's not fair! If you're already dying, then… then how can I avenge my mom now!?" Minato watched as both Mitsuru and Akihiko stilled, and how Shinjiro gave a deep, inaudible sigh. "What use is it if you're gonna die anyway!?"
And all of SEES watched as one ten-year-old boy crumbled in on himself. The last of his composure slipping away as he sobbed brokenly, words coming out in snatches. "I wanted… t'get stronger…! I wanted to beat you… 'c—'cause you killed my mom! And she's… she's dead and she's not coming back and you're sick and—and—!"
For a long while, no one moved. No one spoke. Minato would go so far to say that no one even blinked, watching Ken as he broke down, sobbing almost to the point of dry heaving.
But then, Shinjiro stood, hands jammed into the pockets of his coat. He stepped forward. Gaze focused solely, solemnly, on Ken. "So, what do you want me to do?"
Sniffling now, Ken looked up with watery eyes. "H—Huh?"
"You're right," Shinjiro said. "I killed your mom." Akihiko made a sound perhaps in protest, but Shinjiro barely blinked as he continued on like a battering ram, "I know I can't ever redeem myself for that. So… what do you want me to do?"
It was then that it struck Minato how very sad this situation was. He'd known peripherally from Tamamo about the decisions made and the consequences suffered as a result of this unfortunate series of events, but it truly stuck out when it was presented so plainly before his eyes.
An accident, a single moment of a lapse of control, had caused the death of an innocent woman. Her child suffered from the loss, while her killer descended into a spiral of guilt and self-loathing. To avenge her, the child that she loved and raised was willing and ready to bloody his hands. And, not knowing any other way to atone, her killer, still only a minor himself, would allow himself to be killed, after months of suffering the debilitating effects of the Persona suppressants. Of denying his very Self, however literally or metaphorically one took a Persona as.
"I…" Ken faltered, looking surprised that Shinjiro had even deigned to ask him. "I… don't know…"
He stared up at the senior for a long moment, clearly searching for something. When Shinjiro only held his gaze steadily, even if the rest of the upperclassman's body was rigid with tension, Ken lifted his chin, brows furrowed over his eyes.
"I don't know," Ken repeated, voice clearer if somewhat clogged from his earlier tears. He pushed himself back up to his feet, swaying slightly but remaining upright. "But you're not allowed to die until I do know."
Another staredown occurred, both sides trying to read the other. Then, Shinjiro nodded.
Nodding back, Ken took a deep breath, sniffled, and resumed his earlier trek to the stairs.
When the youngest SEES member was out of sight and safely in his room, Mitsuru said, "Shinjiro. A word." And strode off to the stairs without waiting for a reply.
Sighing deeply, Shinjiro followed after, Akihiko hot on his heels.
Left behind, the juniors were left floundering to themselves.
"Dude," Junpei breathed, ever the spokesperson for shocking events. "What the hell."