For thousands of years, I have laid dormant, who has disturbed my ancient—Nah, I'm not quoting that. It's nice to write for DFW again though. I've been focusing so much on Order and Chaos that I've neglected it a little too much.
Okay, yeah, fuck this! I am aborting my original plan. Well, sorta. The cliffhanger from the last fic happened and won't just disappear, but that's not going to be this chapter's focus. I'm even going to start it with someone I know you all like. Why? Blame the rewritten chapter 43 on AO3 (that may or may not be done when this is uploaded).
I don't even remember the old AN/s I'm supposed to be on anymore. Fuck it. We're just sticking with the new ones.
He's gone now. With his absence, he was all alone now.
Surrounding him was nothing but a dark, endless void. Before, there was always something to suffer alongside him, be it that pale imitation of his former self or him.
Where was this void? Did it exist in its own separate plane, or was this merely a manifestation of the gap that exists within the soul of Minato Arisato?
He didn't know. He didn't care to know. All things considered, he should still be a drooling mess, only moving to attack anything in-sight before returning to some dark hole. He should be, but someone had other plans.
"I-I… won't… let you." There was so much pain. It felt like his head was getting ready to explode, to a point that even he was shrieking. The outside world—the real world—began spinning at that moment.
"Don't waste this, Makoto." There was pain—so much pain. The world around him went black as the shock spread throughout his body as if he was going into a seizure. The purest piece of Minato Arisato's soul forfeited his existence, flooding his essence into a new vessel.
The humanity he possesses now—it's not his. It never will be his. If he had any, to begin with, it was gutted out by him and was now being substituted by one greater than himself.
Makoto Yuki was saved by him, yet is resigning himself to the vast, empty void that Inheritor and Foundation had experienced since his birth. It was cruel irony perhaps, but this was the way it should be—Foundation, the one he and Inheritor spawned from, has regained control once again. By all means, all was as it should be.
But no, there's something missing here. It was something that even Foundation himself could feel. He may have been the original, but he wasn't the true Minato Arisato—just an incomplete whole like the rest of them. Or rather, like the both of them now.
"Why?" Makoto often found himself wondering. Why was he still here while the other was gone? Pharos was gone, his quest for revenge has left him nothing but isolation in this empty void, and the humanity he possesses is a remnant of someone else—there was nothing left for him anymore.
Everything happening in the outside world was occurring in front of him as if he was in his private theater. Real Minato or not, he was able to watch Foundation live the life that they always wanted for themselves. Of course, nothing was without caveats.
SEES was—he didn't know what to think of them.
Junpei was still frightful of him, that much is certain. He couldn't blame him for that either, especially considering how close he was to disfigure his face. He was a child, of course—it was hard to think ill of a child fearing a monster.
Kirijo, what was he supposed to think about them? Was Takeharu currently staying away because he did not care, confirming that he didn't truly care about his family's sins? Or was he afraid of him—afraid to face the ultimate culmination of his family's work?
Of course, there was his daughter to think about as well. An innocent girl who wants nothing more than to protect her father, even going as far as to burden herself with redeeming their family herself—anything to absolve him of the guilt he continues to carry.
So much regret, so many terrible choices—and now, he's witnessing another.
Minato was quick to tell Kotone what had happened, naturally. Even from this 'theater,' Makoto could feel his resolve shaking as he tried to tell her what had happened. But how could he? How does someone tell another that a ghost from their past has returned to haunt them?
He could only watch as the one they loved's face began to crumble. At first, there was confusion, trying to piece together what he was trying to say as his will falter and he resigned to dancing around the subject.
But he knew that he couldn't keep hiding it from her. The moment he ironed his will and told her what had happened, her mood quickly began shifting. The confusion grew stronger for a moment, only to turn into denial as she shook her head, claiming that he had to have been mistaken. That claim faltered at one single sentence.
"You have her eyes."
From there, things just spiraled out of control.
She shook her head with increasing intensity as the confusion became denial. Kotone refused to believe it—she couldn't believe it—and kept repeating no even as her eyes became wet with tears.
The guilt was instant. Minato felt it take hold, reminding him of the years-old wounds he had reopened despite having no right to. From there, everything in his head—and thus the theater—began to blur with the lense of uncertainty.
Through the lens, Makoto heard shouting, crying, questioning, and through the distorted screen, he could see Minato leaving. From then on, the whispers began to make their return.
They were always quick, while also being soft enough that one could always brush it off as nothing more than a trick of the mind. There were more than several reasons that Minato had to question his state of mind, so he would either not notice or brush it off.
Makoto, however, took note of when those whispers began to become more frequent.
'Runaway' was the command always given when he was around him. Minato would look over his shoulder occasionally, but he would always be brought back.
"Something wrong?" Ryoji asked, his hand still on the chess piece.
Minato refocused on the board in front of him, shaking his head, "it's nothing."
Kotone was refusing to speak to him—or anyone for that matter—for several days now. When in school, she would be uncharacteristically silent only to return to her room the instant she was home. He couldn't hold it against her, but especially now with his status as an outsider peeking in, he needed to be somewhere and with someone he could feel comfortable with.
Lo and behold, the mysterious boy was quick to fill the gap that Kotone had left behind. It was a mystery why he spent so much of his time trying to assert himself into Minato's life, but for now, it was a welcome change.
"Monster…"
But something about today was different. Perhaps he heard the voice of too many times or it was finally loud enough for him to notice, but this time, the boy's eyes began wandering for any source of the noise. There were several people as they were in the café (a place Ryoji seemed rather fond of), yet he could find no one making those specific whispers.
What he had forgotten for a moment was that he was not alone, with his eyes quickly and repeatedly scanning the room drawing attention to his opponent.
The boy tilted his head, "are you okay?"
"Fine," Minato dismissed, letting out a feigned yet weary sigh. Continuing his façade, he followed it up with, "Kotone's just been having… issues."
"What kind?" he asked, grabbing a potato chip from the bag resting on the table and popping it into his mouth.
"Personal," Minato answered. So personal that he wouldn't dare to delve too deep about what happened behind her back—the dorm was one thing as they lived together, but not him—not to someone who was almost a stranger to her.
"Oh, sorry," he was wise enough to know not to prod a subject as sore of this. Of course, that didn't stop him from saying, "I guess these things just happen, right? You never predict them."
"Liar…!" this wasn't a whisper; it more like a scream. Laced with a wrathful vehemence, the voice continued shouting various curses at the boy in front of him. "Deceiver! Monster! Murderer! "
The more and more the voices spoke, the more his head began to pound with a pulsing pain. Clutching his head and groaning, Minato felt the pain intensify and the voices getting louder.
There something about the whispers through—beneath the anger and distorted shouting lied a sense of nostalgia permeating from it. But why, and why does it seem to despise Ryoji?
"What's—"
"I have to go," Minato interrupted, bumping into someone and nearly tripping as he made his way out the door. With every step, the pain would lessen in its severity until he was far away from the boy who was still sitting in his seat with a chest piece in his hand.
With a growl, Ryoji's eyes flared a dark purple as the rook in his hand snapped under his grip. No matter what he seems to do, there was always something keeping him away.
No matter what he does, there always seems to be some hand fate deals to cheat him. No matter how he tries to overcome, whether it'd be helping someone he despises or sending an anonymous message somewhere, there was always something.
No, he won't let anything stop him. Nothing will keep him away from his only friend.
It was another rainy day like any other. Makoto had to admit he found the overcast and dreary atmosphere to be fitting after coming back from that bothersome shrink.
Instead, he could spend his time in his room playing another board game with his friend.
"Why don't you ever listen to them?"Pharos asked. He had always kept his silence about such matters before, but after so long and watching the past continue to wear him down, he wanted an answer.
Makoto shook his head as he moved his bishop into place. "I don't like people who don't mind their own business."
Everyone always wants to know what goes on inside that head of his. All they wanted from him was for him to sit in the nice comfy chair and strip his soul bare for them all to see.
But no, his soul wasn't something he would let others invade, no matter their intentions. The incident may have happened years ago, but a piece of him was still there to this day watching his sister burn; they had no right to see it. What happened that day was his failure and his burden to bear for the rest of his life.
Of course, there was one other besides him that knew what happened that day. "I'm sure they're trying to help."
Makoto scoffed before shaking his head, "I don't really care." Moving his pawn, he waited for the trap to be sprung as he continued speaking, "intentions only change the meaning, not whatever it does."
"Oh," Pharos' hand hesitated, hovering over the pieces.
"You're fine," Makoto assured him. "What you did then doesn't matter now. You're all I got, little guy."
Though nothing was said, the bluenette couldn't help but notice a faint smile creeping up the ghost boy's lips. For a moment, the only thing those two had to focus on was their game until Pharos had returned Makoto's bishop to him, crafting the perfect little trap.
"Checkmate," Pharos declared, placing his knight on his final spot.
Makoto blinked, looking down at the board for several long seconds. Replaying every step in his mind, he analyzed just how the little guy had played him like a fiddle so easily.
"Yeah," Makoto looked up from the board, "just so we're clear, you're stuck with me until I manage to kick your ass."
"You don't like to lose, do you?"
"Not when it's the forty-seventh time," Makoto growled, his face slightly scrunching up.
Pharos bobbed his head from side to side before correcting him, "forty-ninth."
"That birthday one did not count!"
"I know," he said smugly, "it'd be fifty-three if I counted them all."
A cold rush began to wash through Minato as the boy slashed water on his face. The pain that he had felt had long since faded away, but the voices had not. No, even now, the whispers continued to haunt him, calling out his name and echoing in his ears.
"Minato," it was softer than before, lacking the venom that it had possessed when he was with Ryoji. He had tried covering his ears before, only to find that it somehow made the whispers louder.
Though the time has passed, the guilt remains. That must be it—it has to be it.
Perhaps it was because of what he told Kotone—the reason she was still locking herself in her room and why Yukari, Junpei, and Fuuka were banging on her door right now. The regret of one began to affect the other, reminding him of all he had done.
"Ugh," Minato groaned, resting his weary head against the glass. It's just one thing after the other with him, wasn't it? One by one, events are thrown his way, almost as if he was some sort of cosmic plaything.
He continued taking long, deep breaths, trying to push the noises out to the back of his head. He continued this, doing his best to ignore the phantom arms wrapping around him, inadvertently reminding him of someone long gone now.
He didn't dare to turn around where he would have been able to see a familiar shade of blue belonging to someone he buried a long time ago.
Ignore the voice, and he won't have to realize how familiar how it sounds.
But that was okay—he could try to block it out however much he wants. They would be there for however long he needed them, whether he would admit it or not.
After all, what else were sisters for?
Didn't bother holding out on the big "twist" this time, seeing how most of you already know it. If not, then BOO! Ghost! Oooh! Scary!
Yeah, a couple of realizations hit me during writing. Most of those were about how I view Makoto and even a bit about his relationship with Pharos. I see things a bit differently now. I hope this changes the future course of this in a good way.
I'm not prolonging this bullshit anymore. Next up is a Kyoto redo. Sorry that this is so short (and lacks real focus, really) despite such a long wait, but again, a lot of rewrites… and I'm even rewriting chapter 43 (lemon chapter) on AO3. It's not done yet, but when it is, it'll be there. Feel free to judge it however you want.
