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Shinjiro was a strong fighter. He cared about Akihiko, Amada, and the rest of SEES until his dying moments. Were she given the opportunity, Aigis is sure that she would’ve been willing to take the bullet for Amada-san. It is admirable that Shinjiro was willing to do the same. He did not deserve to die as he did.
It is impossible for a weapon to befriend a person, but even by that standard she hardly knew him. In her mind, this loss is purely a tactical failure. They will be weaker without Shinjiro, and his loss will have a short-term negative effect on the team’s spirits. That is the extent of her mourning.
It's only been a few days since his death, and while morale is still down, things are already trending back in a positive direction. Amada has returned to the dorm, Akihiko has decided to face forward, and slowly everyone is learning to fight again. Even Koromaru-san has expressed his respect for Shinjiro, for much the same reasons Aigis respects him.
But while everyone else has been slowly recovering from the needless casualty, Makoto has only been getting worse. They haven’t spoken to the team since Amada’s return, and they’ve been going to bed earlier and sleeping in later every day. She suspects that this is only a small portion of their lack of diligence.
This is puzzling to Aigis. She can’t grasp why it is that they would be this distraught. To her knowledge, Makoto never spent time with Shinjiro outside of the battlefield, so they wouldn't have known him any better than she did.
She has attributed this disparity to their greater, more human capacity for empathy and sorrow. Something that she lacks as a being incapable of proper emotions.
But even compared to their other teammates, Makoto is struggling. When she first noticed this phenomenon, she determined that there is nothing she as a machine can do to help them in this matter, as much as that inability to help makes her feel strange.
It’s her duty to be by Makoto’s side. This is a great failure on her part.
“Do you think they’re okay?” Fuuka’s voice wavers as she glances towards the stairwell. “If they aren't down here soon, we’ll be late.”
This is the fifth consecutive day that Makoto has been late getting ready for school. Typically, Aigis waits for them at the same time every day so she can fulfil her commitment to be by their side. But each day this week, they’ve been just a bit later getting ready.
Today they are over half an hour late. Even Fuuka has taken notice. This is not acceptable.
“Fuuka-san, I suggest you proceed without us.”
Fuuka bites the inside of her cheek, casting her eyes away. “Are you sure?”
She can afford to be late for class. Her enrollment, while enjoyable, is a tactical decision. Fuuka’s is not. “I will check on Makoto-san. It is my duty to be by their side.”
Aigis doesn’t wait for a response, stiffly turning away from Fuuka and making a bee-line for Makoto’s room. The lack of noise from the other side of the door when she arrives is disconcerting.
As she has grown accustomed to doing, she picks the lock to their room. It takes 87 seconds, a new record. Her worry must have improved her speed. She clicks the door behind her to find Makoto still deep asleep.
She approaches the edge of the bed and leans over so she’s face to face with them. Their temperature is normal, but their sleep is concerningly deep given the time. The hue of their skin is white, and the bags under their eyes are deep. They appear malnourished.
It also appears that their alarm clock has been unplugged in a way that suggests the cord was pulled out of the socket in a desperate, haphazard rush.
She nudges them gently. “Makoto-san?”
Their eyes slowly flick open, glassy and unfocused, but they don’t flinch at Aigis’s presence.
“You are going to be late for school.”
Makoto is silent as they sit up, their expression impossible to read. The sole thing she can surmise is that they look weak, and overall worse for wear. Something within Aigis dislikes the lack of a warm greeting that they would usually reserve for her.
“Are you okay?”
There’s an invisible plea in their eyes, but she has no clue what it means, so she pushes onward.
“Do not worry, if we get you dressed quickly enough, I’m sure we can make it before the end of first period.”
“Aigis,” they strain their voice as if it were painful to speak.
“I will help,” she insists.
Wincing, they drag themself out of bed and approach a heap of dirty clothes. With a little digging, they pull out one of their uniforms, a deeply wrinkled and visibly dirty set. They look at Aigis and tilt their head in the direction of the door.
“I am not leaving until I am certain that you are in acceptable shape.”
Makoto can’t even muster a glare in response. Any emotion in their gaze is completely missing. Seeing the state that they are in, Aigis begins to hatch a plan to help her leader.
“This is unacceptable,” she says, gesturing at Makoto’s entire being. For once, they flinch in response. “I insist that we do not attend class until you are in sufficient condition for functional living.”
Worry washes over them. “If we cut class, Mitsuru will—”
“Mitsuru-san is not a problem. The probability of her being similarly worried at seeing you like this is high.”
“You’re worried about me?”
“Of course.”
They shrink into themself, turning away from her.
“When was the last time that you ate?”
“Wednesday evening.”
That’s at the very least 30 hours ago, likely far longer. How could they not have eaten? While extreme reactions to loss are common, starving one’s self seems senseless.
“Don’t bother getting dressed, we need to feed you first.”
“But what if the others see?”
“School is starting in a few minutes, the only people home are us and Koromaru-san.”
They stay silent for a moment, refusing to look in her direction, before whispering “I’m not hungry anyway.”
She looks them over again and sees just how sickly they are. “That is untrue. Your body is in visible need of sustenance.”
“I—”
She approaches them hesitantly and reaches out an arm in invitation. They accept it, only for Aigis to pull them close and lift them into her arms. If they refuse to cooperate, she has no choice but to make them. It is in their own best interest.
“Your temperature has increased considerably,” she comments. It’s an odd thing. Maybe they really are getting sick, or perhaps the sudden movement is too much.
“I have never prepared food before. It is almost exciting.”
Makoto does not react to the comment. Their eyes are empty as they wait for Aigis to prepare something to eat. They had made a fuss on the way down over how little they wanted to eat, but after it became apparent that Aigis was forcing them, they simply slipped into resignation.
It still gives Aigis a strange internal reaction. She is more than pleased with being able to help, but Makoto’s lack of care or acknowledgement by the time they’re both in the kitchen stirs something within her.
“There is leftover rice in the fridge. Is this reserved for anyone specifically?”
They shake their head.
“In that case, I will attempt to heat this for you.” It won’t be enough sustenance on its own, but it’s a start.
Just place the bowl in the microwave, and set the time. Simple. Her data banks were not prepared with recipes, but it turns out that cooking is really easy.
All she needs to do now is find something to go with it. Eggs, perhaps? She recalls seeing Akihi—
Her joints stiffen as the world around her goes blank.
…
…
The first thing she recognizes is Makoto’s hand on her cheek, their once void expression morphed into terror. “Aigis!”
“Yes?”
She feels as she does when recovering from Orgia Mode. Bunt out and sore, but a little alive too. Although perhaps the thing most similar to her recovery from Orgia Mode is the fact that she is on the floor.
“I thought you had hurt yourself. I—”
She takes their hand in hers and removes it from her face, standing from the floor and returning to the culprit of her condition: the microwave.
“I am fine. I have run a diagnostic test and concluded that I’ve experienced electromagnetic interference.”
“Please be careful.” Their voice is timid and small. After what happened the other day, they must have thought the worst.
“I apologize. Next time, I will not stand next to the microwave.”
Luckily she was not out for very long, only a matter of minutes. But with Makoto’s volatile condition, that is still far too long.
The rice is still warm, fit for enjoyable human consumption. But she still needs to pair it with something. Akihiko usually eats his garnished with raw egg and little else, and given that it is a simple thing to prepare she opts for that.
The first egg she takes, she immediately crushes between her fingers, splattering its contents on both herself and Makoto, who is now hovering over her with concern.
“Oh.” She pokes a piece of yolk that’s stuck in Makoto’s hair, causing them to let out a huff. “Don’t worry. I was going to make sure you bathe anyway.” Makoto finds a hand towel and does their best to wipe the pieces off of themself.
The second egg goes smoother, which is to say she doesn’t actively make a mess. The egg on rice is serviceable, although the yolk does break as she places it in the rice. With Makoto on her heels, she takes it to the table in the lounge, finding a seat across from them and looking with excitement as they take in the food.
“Cooking is not as easy as I anticipated. But I did my best.”
“You didn’t really cook anything.”
“You need to eat. It will be good for you.”
“I’m not hungry,” they push the bowl to the side.
She fixes them a scowl, taking the pair of chopsticks for herself and grabbing a bit of the eggy rice. “Then I will have to force you to eat. You will feel much better once you have eaten.”
The look they give her makes her think they must be tired. She’d tell them to find rest, but clearly that’s only been making things worse. So long as she is with them, she’ll make things better. She has to.
“Open wide,” she offers the food. They hesitantly open their mouth, taking the rice from her. She beams with pride.
They take another bite from her chopsticks, then another. And with each one, it becomes a bit easier. Slowly, the colour begins to return to their face.
“I’m proud of you. You are doing a very good job.”
Their face goes red as they freeze, the chopsticks just barely skirting the edge of their lips. “Hm?”
“Your body temperature has once again piqued. Are you okay?”
There is a chance that they are having an adverse reaction to the food. Maybe she had done something wrong in her preparation, even if they were watching her for most of the process.
They look away, hand half covering their face. “It’s embarrassing.”
The rest of the meal goes by in relative silence, this time with Makoto taking the chopsticks. It’s good that they are feeling well enough to do it themself, but it makes Aigis think that she has done something wrong. Something ‘embarrassing.’
As the meal comes to an end, the sticky bits of egg still literally on her face, she catches what might almost be a smile. It doesn’t reach Makoto’s lips, but she can see it in their eyes.
What that means, she doesn’t know. And she hates not knowing things. She isn’t familiar with what a smile means other than an upturn of the lips, and yet when she looks at Makoto she can see the ghost of one that isn’t there.
Whatever that unknown thing is, she wants to keep it safe.
Next on the agenda is laundry. She gathers Makoto’s heap of dirty clothes and puts them in the dorm's communal washing machine. Despite following on her heels the entire time, Makoto doesn’t voice their concerns until after the wash cycle has begun.
“Weren’t you going to make me bathe?” They look no less disturbed than they had this morning, but there’s now a little bit more energy behind their words.
“That will be next, correct.”
“But you just put all of my clothes in.”
She had not taken that factor into account. Fortunately, the solution is easy.
“I have uniforms of my own. You can easily borrow one while we wait for this to be complete.”
They give her a strange look. “I doubt they would fit me.”
She mentally measures their proportions. While their frame is far from large, their height over her is a factor to take into account. “It may not be comfortable for you, that is correct. But there are other options available.”
Given that she only wears clothes as a cloaking mechanism, there aren’t many outfits that she has access to. There’s her Yukata, but that is a special outfit. She would trust Makoto with it, but she does not want to break any social codes she is unfamiliar with. That only leaves…
“I have an outfit in mind. If you would give me a moment.”
She dashes to her room, leaving Makoto alone by the washing machine, and grabs what she was looking for. It is impossible for someone without a heart to hold sentiment, but if she could this would be one of the most sentimental things she owns. It’s a wonder that she still has it.
Although on its own, it will not be enough for a human. Makoto would likely have issues with the lack of underwear, so she’ll just have to come up with an alternative plan.
She gathers everything she needs, excited to share this with Makoto.
“Aigis, why are you following me into the washroom?”
“I need to ensure that you are tended to properly.”
They give her a look that almost approaches fear. “You can’t be in here with me. Someone might get the wrong idea.”
Despite their concerns, they don’t try to force her out as she sets the clothes on the counter. “How so?”
“You know…”
She really doesn’t. They need to be washed and she wants to help. Why can’t she? Even assuming that she is breaking a taboo, the concern doesn’t hold up. “Everyone else is at school. I don’t see the problem.”
They wring their wrists, the tips of their ears going red as they refuse to make eye contact. “You do understand how bathing works, right?”
“Yes. It is my intention to bathe you.”
They look conflicted, weighing their options, before slumping their shoulders and resigning themself. “Fine.”
There’s a lingering implication as they meet eyes, and even with Aigis’s obliviousness she understands what they’re saying. She would hate to impose on them and make them uncomfortable, so withdrawing from the situation is an option. But they also seem a little hopeful that she’ll stay, if even so they don’t have to be alone.
And then there’s the matter of how sensitive they must be about nudity. She doesn’t understand why someone would care, but then again she doesn’t have genitals or any associations about what they may mean.
As Makoto looks at her uncertainly, she’d almost think they were seeing a human in her that doesn’t exist. It, like so many things about them, gives her that strange internal reaction they always seem to draw out of her.
“Are you sure you are comfortable with this?” she says, her voice sounding completely unlike her. Something that straddles the line of synthetic sound.
“Maybe it’s not so bad. I… don’t think it’s good for me to be alone right now.”
“Then I suppose you may… strip.”
This time it’s Aigis that looks away with embarrassment.
She dares a glance as they take off their shirt. The first time she met them they were shirtless, wearing only swimming trunks. But something about this somehow seems different.
As they thumb at their waistband, they give her an embarrassed look. “Aigis, you’re staring.”
“My apologies.”
She doesn’t even think about what it is she sees after that, beyond their embarrassment. Her eyes never bother to stray below the waist. Why would they? She doesn't have desires, doesn’t even have emotions. And nothing she would see would tell her anything more about Makoto than she already knows, which is that they are a wonderful person worth protecting at all costs.
That’s really all that she sees. Makoto. And she loves it, as much as they seem uncomfortable. “It’s alright,” she tries to reassure them.
They look away, their embarrassment temporarily eclipsing the dread they had been consumed by for the past few days. Makoto draws the shower, and she joins them inside, closing the curtains behind her.
The water is hot. Very hot. She imagines that it would feel numb to the skin, she can almost feel it numb on her synthetic tissue. Is this really good for Makoto? Do they enjoy it like this?
They refuse to look in her direction, so she reaches out a hand and places it over their heart. Words of reassurance are an important thing to give when someone is in a vulnerable position, so she attempts to reassure them. “You look wonderful.”
Their face is half cloaked in steam, but she can still tell that they relax under her words.
She reaches for a bottle of body wash, lathering it over her fingers. She starts washing at their shoulders, making her way down their chest and arms. They’re so delicate like this. Their skin is soft to the touch, but beneath it is firm muscle forged through their trials in Tartarus.
They feel so alive, so human. Absolutely beautiful. If she could, she’d savour this touch for all that it’s worth.
She lathers more soap and washes their torso a second time, if only for the sake of prolonging the experience. They’re sensitive in a few places, evident by how they squirm as her fingers drift over them. Primarily under their arms and around their centre. But otherwise, they’re relaxed and malleable under her touch.
As she makes her way near their waist, something in her stops the movement. Each mechanical joint in her body freezes as her mind enters a state of hesitation. She may not feel anything, but the significance of going further is not lost on her.
“Aigis?” Makoto gives her a worried look. “Is it too hot?”
She nearly accidentally springs into Orgia mode as she panics and gives them the bottle. “You do the rest.”
“Right,” they say, realization blooming as they grab a washcloth.
Aigis has to look away for the rest, shame overrunning her. She doesn’t feel anything. She can’t feel anything. It’s simply impossible.
So why did she hesitate like that? Why was there this… sensation inside of her.
As they wash their lower half, she eventually gains the courage to take her head out of her hands. “I can still help,” she says, a tinge too hopeful for someone incapable of feeling hope.
“But I’m done.”
Despite their comfort as she ran her hands over them, Makoto has fallen back into a dreadful sullen mood.
“You have not bathed in over a week.” She tilts her head to the side. “Does your hair not require cleaning?”
They sigh and hand her a bottle of shampoo.
She uncaps the lid and holds it over their head, giving it as firm a squeeze as she can muster. It turns out this is far too firm, as the entire contents of the bottle come out, drenching Makoto. It seems that she hasn’t learned her lesson from what happened with the egg.
“Oh.”
Despite Aigis’s expectations, Makoto laughs. A light, almost sweet thing. It’s the first smile they’ve made since the full moon. “Aigis,” they say with something akin to fondness.
“Sorry.”
They wash off the excess and let it flow down the drain, causing the floor to become dangerously slippery.
They grab another bottle of something else and put a glob in their hair, lathering it without Aigis’s help. It is understandable that they would not seek her help after her mistake, but she does wish she could have continued to contribute.
But they seem a lot lighter now after getting in a laugh, so she counts that as a win. Makoto is not better yet, but this is a step forward.
Before long they’re done in the shower. Makoto throws a towel over themself and starts to blow dry their hair. Compared to their earlier condition, they’re practically glowing. Which is an odd observation for her to make, considering that humans are not very bioluminescent. She wonders where the association came from within her mind.
“So what are the clothes that you got me?”
“Here,” she holds them out. “It is my gown from Yakushima. I haven’t worn it since I got my uniform, and it’s… special to me.”
“Thank you. I—” They almost look choked up. “I appreciate it.”
They drape it over themself and do a timid twirl, as Aigis beams back at them.
“And of course you need these,” she hands them a pair of boxers.
They slouch over and sigh. “Whose underwear is this?”
“Akihiko-san's.”
The look they give is of someone facing downright mortification. “You can’t just steal these from someone.”
“I was going to take Junpei-san’s, but none of his clothes were clean. And if I were to have taken some from the other girls, I would have to face a scolding.” It’s the only sensible option. She and Koromaru do not need such things, and Amada’s would not fit. It’s just a process of elimination.
“You do understand that he’s not going to be happy about this.”
“Why?”
“These are—” They cut themself off, seeming more exhausted than is reasonable considering that this is not a problem. “You’ll just have to see when we give them back.”
“Understood.”
Begrudgingly, they put them on. Although they may not want to wear them, they don’t have much of a choice.
“Aigis, you can leave me alone now. You’ve done what you said you were going to do.”
She doesn’t budge from the doorway. Behind her back, she holds a brush just out of their sight. “I was hoping…”
“I need some time alone.”
“That is not true.”
Makoto is in a volatile state. While some time to themself would be helpful to an extent, it is also dangerous. It was her leaving them alone for days that caused this mess, it will not be the solution to it too.
She shows them the brush. “I was hoping to use this on you.”
They look almost relieved, before flickering to concern. “Who did you steal from this time?”
“Yukari-san.”
“You need to stop doing that.”
“But you do not own a brush.”
They point to their desk, where a nearly identical brush sits.
“Oh…”
She exchanges the brushes and joins Makoto on their bed. Aigis sits with her back against the wall, as she gestures for Makoto to sit in front of her. She sprawls her legs to make room while Makoto begrudgingly settles against her.
She carefully takes off their headphones as they flinch, examining their face the best she can from this angle. They still have that hollow look, the bags under their eyes are still deep, and their lips are still creased with sorrow. But the food brought some colour back to their face and the shower brought back some light. There’s also a drop of what seems to be joy, but she is unsure what brought that about.
If she could, she’d feel proud.
She runs her hands through their hair. It’s soft and delicate, almost silky after the shower. With uncertain but stable hands, she raises the brush and gives a single stroke.
The way their deep blue hair flows through it is mesmerizing. She feels entranced by it. She brushes it again and again, struggling to properly commit it to memory. Some allure she can’t quite describe keeps her focus solely on this.
Makoto hums with contentment. “I usually hate when I can’t have my headphones.”
“Sorry.” She halts her brushing.
“No, keep going. I… this is nice. It’s okay if it’s you.”
Relief floods her as she continues.
With each passing moment, Makoto relaxes. Aigis runs her spare hand down their back, strangely curious about what her gown feels like on a human.
“It is nearing the end of the second period at Gekkoukan,” she comments. She may have spent a longer time than necessary stealing the underwear that they didn’t even want, and they definitely spent more time than necessary in the shower.
“Already?”
“I hear it is not uncommon for time to ‘fly’ when you are enjoying yourself.”
“I’m just used to time feeling slow.”
Right. She almost let herself forget why Makoto needed her help, too swept up in helping to remember. “Is it because of Shinjiro-san?”
Makoto grows silent.
“I am afraid I am unable to assist you,” she says, more conflicted than she wants to sound. Stumbling over her words, she adds, “That is to say, more than making you eat and bathe.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence, one she somehow feels is her responsibility, she continues. “But I am capable of listening. If you need that.”
Their back grows a tad rigid. “I’m good.”
“I am sorry.”
“So am I.”
The silence that looms in the air is insurmountable, like a canyon expanding between them. And there’s nothing she can do but watch Makoto’s sorrow from the other side.
She doesn’t understand what they’re going through. Not only has she not mourned, she has never felt anything. And there’s no point in trying to act as if that weren’t the case, given she has no heart to contain empathy. Even if she does find herself nearing an approximation of sorrow seeing Makoto, it is definitionally incompatible with the notion of empathy.
That approximation of pain, despite not being a feeling, resides somewhere deep within her. Not in her heart, but whatever it is that’s most similar. The part of her that sprung Palladion, the part of her that’s drawn to Makoto, the part of her that has all these unnamable internal sensations, weeps for them.
It also weeps for Shinjiro, and for Amada and Akihiko for losing him, and the entire team for carrying this loss. It’s the part of her that drives her into Origa Mode. It’s the part of her that makes her want to wear the school uniform and feel the Iwatodai air.
But more than anything it’s simply the part of her that wishes there wasn’t this divide separating her non-heart from Makoto’s wounded one.
But they are not feelings. And so there is nothing she can do for Makoto but listen.
“If it’s second period, that means it’s almost lunch.”
She slows her brush strokes. “That is correct.”
“I’d rather not have to eat again. It was… okay with you but I don’t think I have the stomach for it.”
She glows knowing that she made eating easier for them. But she doesn’t have the right kind of heart to be able to keep lifting this burden. She supposes maybe they deserve some slack. “I understand. But I insist that you at least eat this evening.”
“Fine.”
There has to be something she can do to cross this divide. But what that thing is is lost on her.
Makoto was relaxed when she started brushing their hair, and somewhat relaxed for a brief moment in the shower, but she has no clue what she did differently.
“One day, I’d like to braid your hair.”
It’s a passing thought she hadn’t fully grasped before it was out of her mouth. Almost conversational, almost natural, and scarily human.
“Sounds fun.” Their affect is flat, but she can tell that they mean it.
“I don’t know how, though. I doubt I have the same finger dexterity as a human.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“Unless your hair gets stuck in my joints.”
They give a wispy laugh, despite it not being intended as a joke. “I think Fuuka used to braid her hair. I’m sure she could teach you.”
She pictures herself with Makoto in her lap. Next to her is Fuuka, demonstrating how to braid using Mitsuru. She’d watch intently, trying to memorize each microscopic movement so she could be perfect for Makoto.
It’s a pleasant thought, the non-heart part of her thinks. “That idea is favourable,” she says instead because that is how the more known and trustworthy part of her mind would word it.
They pass more time than they probably should like this, leaning against each other and taking in the company. Eventually, Makoto melts into her arms like a fluid, and eventually, the brush falls to the side. She doesn’t feel anything, she tells herself, as Makoto rests against her. It’s only an unknown reaction of warmth and contentment inside her.
The disappointment at realizing the school day will end in only a matter of hours crashes over her like a tidal wave.
“They’re going to be back at some point,” she says. “Are you intending to return the items I borrowed?”
“Yes, but you’re coming with me.”
That is an expected answer. However, she will make sure that Makoto does not have to be there when she explains their absence from school to Mitsuru. It would be best not to make Makoto feel as if today were a big deal.
“I don’t want this to be over,” Makoto says in a whisper. They break away from Aigis’s arms to face her. That look in their eyes is there again, the one her faulty mind had somehow identified as a smile.
She doesn’t want it to be over either. Makoto had fun today, all things considered. And Aigis is glad that she could let that happen. It would be nice to keep this moment forever.
“Your clothes should be dry,” she says instead, as robotically as she can. She forces herself to look not at but through them, her gaze unmoving and unemotional. All visible thoughts she may have let reach her face vanish, leaving Makoto seeming lost.
She doesn’t tell them that she too wants the day to continue, or that she wants to remain by their side for as long as they would let her. Because staying means considering the possibility that she’s not merely an object to Makoto, but a companion. The idea of her being anything but inhuman is terrifying in its unfamiliarity. The status quo of being a mere machine is so much safer, even if it means turning them away.
She just isn’t ready to be anything else. She isn't ready to want or feel. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be.
“Pardon?”
It takes surprising effort to keep her voice flat. “Our teammates will be here at some point in the near future. I recommend that you change into something that will keep up appearances.”
“...right.”
Before Makoto can say anything else, she forces them out of her lap and leaves the room in a rush. She hears the faint sound of them calling for her, but she’s already gone by the time they could catch up.
She just… can’t reckon with this.
She cares about Makoto. And she cares about their pain. But what does that really mean? Is caring itself an emotion, because if so she definitionally cannot care.
Because she can’t have emotions. She can’t.
If she could…
She snuffs out the line of thought. Today, she helped her leader because that is her job as a member of SEES. She did it because she’s the only one capable of skipping school four days before midterms without it adversely affecting her. She did it because her highest priority is to be by Makoto’s side.
She doesn’t need to care. Nor does she want to. She doesn’t want to dellude herself into thinking that such a thing is even possible.
She is Aigis. A 7th Generation Anti-Shadow Suppression Weapon. And today she did her job by helping her leader. That is all.
It hurts, but that is all that happened today. She can’t let any of this mean anything.
She doesn’t speak with Makoto for the rest of the afternoon. For that matter, she doesn’t speak with anyone. After leaving them, she silently went to fold their laundry, making sure to leave it at their doorstep before the first sounds of life began to trickle into the lobby. After that point, she locked herself away in her room in the hopes that these intrusive thoughts would leave her mind. Or at the very least, the rapid beating of her papillon heart would slow.
It doesn’t work. She wants to be near Makoto, there’s no getting around it. She wants to help and she wants to care. Any internal discord over if such a thing is possible is moot when it’s the only thing she can think about.
She cares about Makoto. More than she can handle. And it’s terrifying. Because if she can care, then all these other internal sensations they’ve given her today aren’t just unaccounted blips in her system, but rather some sort of feelings.
It’s the scariest thing she could imagine.
As nightfall hits, she makes the painful decision to just speak with Makoto, as much as she doesn’t want to face this. So she turns her audio sensors to max and listens carefully to see if there’s any sense of activity in the rest of the dorm.
The comment Makoto made about giving people the wrong idea must have really stuck with her. Normally if someone were to notice her heading to Makoto’s room in the middle of the night, she would only care because they'd probably stop her from breaking and entering. But now she doesn’t want to create the wrong impression, so making sure the rest of SEES has settled is a high priority.
Besides, she’s in no state to field questions, or even acknowledgement, from anyone other than her leader.
Makoto was the first to head in for the night, having done so hours ago.
The girls’ floor fills up quickly once the sun goes down, Fuuka and Yukari being the first to their rooms, with Mitsuru not far behind.
The second floor, though, fills much slower. Akihiko heads in around the same time as Mitsuru. Junpei doesn’t return to the dorm until far later, likely being busy visiting Chidori. The thought that he was with her while Aigis couldn’t even face Makoto only makes her turmoil worse.
Amada is the last to bed, somehow waiting until after the dark hour passes to turn in. Koromaru is still in the lounge, but she can handle him.
She finally leaves her tomb and rushes to the kitchen, grabbing a fruit or two so she can fulfill her promise to feed Makoto a second time today. This time, when she reaches Makoto’s door, she knocks instead of picking the lock, hoping that they are just as restless as she is.
“I am deeply sorry,” she blurts out the moment they open the door for her.
They’ve changed into their own clothes, but in their hands is Aigis’s gown. By the looks of things, they were already holding it. They give her a confused look, before gesturing for her to join them inside.
Aigis hands over the food and tells them they need to eat, to which Makoto wistfully sets the gown aside and silently obliges the request.
“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to leave you alone like that.”
“It’s fine,” they say in a way that tells her it’s very much not fine. “I don’t care.”
“You needed me—you wanted me—but I was incapable of being there. For that, I must apologize. I believe I may have misread the situation.”
The moment the words leave her, she flinches back at them. She hadn’t misread anything, it’s a lie to say otherwise. But she doesn’t want to admit the real reason she disappeared.
She couldn’t. She has to. If she doesn’t, this internal reaction that’s been plaguing her all day may never cease. If she does, she doesn’t know what she’ll be anymore. She can’t be Aigis if she isn’t heartless, she can’t be heartless if she tells the truth, but if she doesn’t tell the truth she can’t keep going.
Maybe for Makoto, that sacrifice is worth it.
“I have been thinking, since this afternoon, about my own… illogical internal reactions to external circumstances.”
“Feelings?” Despite their downtrodden mood and their squeamishness at eating, they say it so freely. As if there’s little question to it.
“I cannot feel feelings.”
They nod along, not quite affirmatively but rather to placate. “Come, sit with me.”
She almost doesn’t want to. The last time she was on their bed, this all came crashing down on her. But she does despite herself. After a moment, she shifts closer to Makoto. After another, she shifts even closer. She’s been telling herself that she doesn’t want anything and that she can’t care about anything, but that really wasn’t the case. She wants to be by Makoto’s side. She cares about Makoto, so much it surpasses the confines of such a meek emotion.
“I am concerned that if I admit that I’m experiencing doubts, it may mean that I am not who I thought I was.”
Even saying that much might have crossed the line, may have been the thing to push her away from the machine she thought herself to be. If Makoto realizes this, they do a good job of not seeming like it.
“And what are these doubts?”
“I can’t say…”
By now, Makoto’s finished their food. With their new energy, they make the final move in closing the gap between them. Now thigh to thigh, they reach out an open hand as an offering. Just as she once clung to them at Yakushima, Aigis accepts before she can think of the implications of doing so, too drawn by the strange line of fate connecting them.
“I once thought that the whole world was going to move past me,” Makoto says. “I never really cared about people, so people never cared about me. I only joined SEES because I was curious.”
She wants to ask why they’re telling her this, but their grip tightens on her hand slightly and it sends her papillon heart fluttering. Another one of those strange internal reactions. Or as Makoto would tell her, a feeling.
“Shinjiro once asked me what it is that I’m fighting for, and all I could tell him was that I didn’t know.” They hesitate. “After what happened this week, I feel like a failure for not knowing sooner. Maybe if I did, it could’ve turned out differently.”
“Is that why you have been feeling this way?”
“I don’t know.” They pause. “No, not knowing won’t be enough this time either. I know that it is. Because I care about our team, they’re who I’m fighting for, and I’ve failed them.”
“You are not a failure. The casualty we experienced was simply a tactical blunder by multiple parties.”
“I don’t like it when you say it like that.”
“Sorry.”
“What I’m trying to say is that admitting your doubts is worth it. I should have let myself realize what I was fighting for earlier. You have the chance to realize what you’re feeling before it’s too late.”
“I will consider the proposition.”
She doesn’t think she’s ready for something as drastic as facing these supposed emotions. She can’t really accept them as her own, not when there’s still a mission to complete. But for now, she can at least stop running from the one she’s aware of. She cares about Makoto. That she can admit.
“Thank you.”
“I appreciate that you have been honest with me about Shinjiro-san. I had no idea…”
“Aigis,” they turn to face her, desperate to change the subject, still hand in hand, “can I ask you something?”
She nods.
“Will you stay with me? Tonight? It’s getting late, and I don’t want to be alone again.”
“Of course!” She had been hoping that they would ask that of her. Watching them sleep is the greatest comfort she knows. After what she’s been dealing with, she needs that known comfort. “I will be sure to watch over you the best that I can.” She’s always loved tracking their vitals at night.
“Not like that.” They grow flustered. “I was wondering if… you’d stay as…”
Oh.
“As a companion?”
“Something like that.” They slip their hand out of hers, wringing their wrists. “I need someone by my side.”
“Understood.”
They adjust the sheets as they properly crawl into bed, leaving the blanket up as an offering. “I don’t have another pillow, we could maybe steal one from the lounge.”
“I have no need for such things.” She lays next to them, her neck rigid and supporting itself. She makes the first move in making contact, cupping their cheek in hers. She had felt their skin numerous times today, but it feels no less intimate with each instance. As she’s growing to acknowledge those emotions and feelings within her, it only makes her grow more appreciative of them.
After a while, they end up in Aigis’s arms, a position that would make her colloquially referred to as the ‘big spoon.’ Their skin is so much warmer than any part of her body, and her synthetic tissue is so much stiffer than their flesh, but it’s comfortable. Seemingly for Makoto too, as they ease into the touch as if it were their only lifeline.
Makoto ends up being talkative into the night. While her instinct is to make sure they reach sleep, this is better than the alternative of them spiralling. And their voice is great too. A soothing thing, heavy but not deep, serious but not firm. Like a gentle caress only reserved for her.
They explain what it was like returning the stolen items, how Yukari was only confused, and how Akihiko ended up flustered. She wishes she could have seen it, if only to have shared the experience with Makoto, but having them detail it is a good alternative.
Mitsuru ended up being lenient with Makoto. Hearing her mentioned gives Aigis a pang of guilt. She had intended to shield Makoto from that particular conversation. But by the sounds of things, she shared much of Aigis’s worry.
It’s the most she’s ever heard Makoto speak in a single stretch. They’re usually too closed off. But it’s not as if this is them opening their heart, in part because they opened it for her already today, but also because half of what they say ends up being meaningless.
They’re doing it to keep their mind off of Shinjiro, she knows that much, but a selfish part of her wishes that they were doing this just for her. She wants to listen to their voice for hours, locking away every syllable for herself. She’s become so… fond of them.
“I do miss him,” they say as slumber begins to encroach on them.
“I know.”
That alone seems to be sufficient. She thought she was incapable of helping them in this matter, but just having their pain seen seems to ease them. Maybe this emotions thing isn’t too bad. Maybe the blooming thing akin to pride at seeing the person she cares for most open up to her is enough to make this worth it.
She dares to run her hand through their hair again. They hum as they drift to sleep.
Throughout the night, she notes every microscopic movement and noise that Makoto makes. From this close, it’s so much easier than watching overhead. From this close, it feels so much more intimate.
She made them feel better and safer, if even a little. But it was Makoto who did the most today. They were the one who brought all of this joy into their lives. She drifts her hand through their hair again, like they’re the delicate and vulnerable thing that they are.
Come tomorrow, they’ll be struggling again. The grief that dragged them down will return, and maybe she’ll be able to help again. Or maybe she won’t. But for now, they’re better.
Makoto drew something out of her today, even if she doesn’t know what that thing is. They really are special.
She could probably be content like this, with them in her arms, until the end of time.