The aftermath hits everyone like a ton of bricks, mentally and physically. After the unease and the rage, the exhaustion feels like therapy. They slowly trudge out of the hotel on shaking legs and drooping eyes to a fretting Fuuka, who's too shy to ask for details but has definitely been spooked by everything she's seen.
"I'm so glad everyone's… okay…"
She tries to show a brave face but the waver in her voice betrays her distress. Yukari hugs her fiercely with tired arms, not saying anything. The navigator locks eyes with some of them, color rushing to her cheeks, and averts her eyes.
"We should hurry and tend to your wounds; the Dark Hour is about to end."
They're almost all out of energy, but everyone who can leverages their personas to patch the others as best they can. Mystical healing might not solve all their cuts and bruises perfectly, sometimes there are scars, but it's better than nothing.
Junpei's rolling his bad shoulder with a hiss, shirt drenched in blackish blood, as Akihiko is trying to finish the job.
"I need some pills and a good crash; I can't stand up anymore."
Mitsuru, who's been tending to Minato's numerous cuts with devoted care, flinches at the teen's comment. She's disheveled and dripping with the melting aftereffects of her encounter with Jack Frost, a strange vulnerable expression on her face.
Once Yukari is done patching Minako and washes out he worst of the blood on her face, they pack up and head toward the dorm. The junior girls are holding to each other in silent solidarity at the front and Minato is supporting Iori somewhat. Akihiko knows how it's going to play out, so he hangs back to hold the rear next to Mitsuru. She's got her arms wrapped around herself again, trying her best to keep her collected normal façade but he sees right through his old comrade.
They've known each other for a long time now and while he can't pretend to even understand her thoughts, her moods are easy to read if one knows the minutia. Akihiko starts to lag somewhat, knowing she'll map her stride to his without thinking.
"Mitsuru."
She sighs.
"I could have killed him."
Guilt, indeed.
"But you didn't. He's fine now."
He's a hypocrite, but if it's for her, it's fine. Somewhat.
She takes a shaking breath; she definitely wants to cry but can't let go. She never could, not in front of anyone, ever. That's something she'll take to her room, or the shower. If he was still at the dorm, perhaps he might be the recipient, but they'll never know now.
"I was trying to kill him, kill them, kill all of you. I wanted to."
"But you did not, and that's all that matters. Everyone's okay."
The thunderous rumble is back through his head, just saying the words makes him clench his jaw. Akihiko grinds his teeth, breathes hard.
"Nobody will hold it against you. If anything, Iori will respect you more for it."
She laughs deprecatingly, as if the only consequence could be ramen cups properly taken to the trash. At least she's not fighting tears anymore.
"I... guess so…"
Mitsuru's not yet okay, but she will be. Might order her victims some threats, try to apologize in a formal manner they won't quite get. The threat of an execution will never ring the same again that's for sure.
They keep walking in comfortable silence and the streets come back to life once more in a vivid second. Its always a jarring experience that draws the eye when outside, this sudden rush of movement and sound.
Passing under a lamppost, she stops.
"What about you? You're not okay, at all."
He turns around to her, eyes clouded.
Goddammit.
"Doesn't matter, let's go."
Her eyes narrow dangerously. She looks at him, his dangingly open shirt, the clenched fists, arches an eyebrow.
"Akihiko. You can't keep doing this."
He huffs, annoyed. If it was anyone else berating how much he's losing his grip... He doesn't even know his own thoughts, there's electrostatic blurring everything to dim white noise and he likes it like that. He can't be allowed to think, now that there's no outlet for emotions, nothing to turn into a pulp, if he does, he'll just…
"You're allowed to mess up, but if you keep swallowing it all inside, you'll break. Like he did."
If only he could scream, she doesn't know, she had no idea, and he won't say anything. He can't. There are no words, just a raw, wet feeling he can't identify.
"I'm not Shinji."
She gasps, it always hurt her to hear that name. She never forgot.
"Could have fooled me. Don't do what he did, don't run away from this."
He looks down, that one stings. Clenching his fists, he huffs, then enters the dorm and heads straight for his room, shower be damned. It's late, he's aching all over and he just wants to pretend it was all a dream, or not, he can't make up his mind.
He lies awake for a long time, tossing and turning, before the nightmares sink their claws in. In them, he's laying on a pyre of red velvet as he's burned alive like his sister.