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When Minato wakes up, he’s still on the rooftop—still lying on his side, but his head is resting on the hard bench instead of Aigis’ lap. She may be made of metal, but somehow, she was much more comfortable than this. Her hand stroking his hair, the soothing cadence of her words, all that is gone.
For the first time in what feels like forever, Minato is wide awake. He blinks, sits up, and assesses the situation. Despite the voices he heard right before drifting off, there’s no one else here. He knows why, though; it’s a truth resting heavy in his soul. He’s understood for weeks his time has been coming to an end, because a death like this isn't something that can sneak up on you.
But the view—the view is beautiful. It's something that makes someone pause and pull back just to admire it. Minato stares at it for a long time, taking everything in and absorbing the warmth that arises inside of him at the sight. It feels like he’s able to see the entire world from up here; the city sprawls out from underneath him. That alongside the cherry blossoms falling makes it breathtaking. However, the only thing he can think is: I didn’t get to graduate with them. His friends will march the tests of time with each other, talking and laughing along the way, but he will stay rooted in place. It’s a sobering revelation, one that causes something to sink in Minato’s gut despite everything. It’s all right, though. It was his choice, his sacrifice, and his way of saving them all. He’d die a million times over for them to smile another day.
Minato’s about to lament in his thoughts some more, but then all the sudden, he hears a door creak open and footsteps walking toward him. They are quiet, yet deafening at the same time.
“Minato,” says a familiar voice. “You’re awake.” Minato doesn’t have to look to know it’s Ryoji. Of course. Something flits inside of him—not good, not bad. The last time they saw each other, they were on opposite sides of a war. But here there is no battlefield, just two boys who have embraced death.
“How long was I asleep for?” asks Minato, eyes trained on the ground.
“Forever,” says Ryoji. He sits down on the bench as well; he’s close enough that if Minato were to only shift over a few inches, their hands would touch. “How are you feeling?”
Death is something Minato’s had to grapple with for over a decade now, and even more intimately in the past year. “I’m okay.” There’s a tug in his stomach that refuses to leave, though. The connections he’s made that kept him clinging on to his last scraps of life for so long are still part of who he is.
“You can be upset, you know.”
Minato frowns. “I know that.”
“I’m sure this is a lot to take in. You’re probably very confused right now.”
“Kind of. I’m mostly still processing,” says Minato. He knows he died, yes, but it doesn’t feel that way. He can still feel a light breeze against his skin, can still trace his fingers on the bench into the grooves. He can still walk and talk and act, so at the end of the day, is living that much different?
“Well, if you have questions, feel free to ask. I’ll answer to the best of my ability.” Ryoji’s smile is warm and kind, so much so that it makes Minato’s heart ache. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve his grace, his mercy. Maybe he’s selfless by nature, despite everything indicating the opposite—all the damage he’s caused and people he’s harmed. Or maybe it’s just Minato.
“Why are you here?” asks Minato.
“You could call it an escort of sorts. I’m here to take you to your next destination. We’ll be going together.”
Together. “Oh,” he says. “All right. Are we leaving now?”
“If you’re ready, that is,” says Ryoji, standing up as he does so. His smile is a consolation, but one Minato will gladly accept.
Ready for what? Minato does not ask. “Yes,” he says instead, because there is nothing left for him after death. Only Ryoji, who is Death itself. He welcomes him with open arms—a hand reaching out which Minato takes. Ryoji squeezes, and Minato squeezes back. As they exit the rooftop and walk downstairs with their fingers intertwined, all he can focus on is that Ryoji’s hand is frighteningly cold. He suspects his own is as well.
“You did well,” says Ryoji. “They’ll be all right.”
Minato sighs. It’s not one of defeat, reluctance, or relief, but acceptance. “I know.”
But still, he doesn’t say, but Ryoji seems to understand anyway. “You’re allowed to miss them.”
“I know,” Minato repeats, softer this time. And miss them he does, more than he’d care to admit. But he’s accepted the consequences of his actions, so looking back is no longer an option. “There’s no point in that now, though.”
Ryoji nods, seeming to understand. “You’re very calm about this,” he says. Dying. “Although I suppose that’s just like you, right?” He laughs, clear and bright, as if Minato just told him something exceptionally clever. Or even if he didn’t—even if he only commented on something like how the weather is warmer than usual. Ryoji gives his laughs away without a second thought, like it’s as easy as breathing.
Their hands just barely swing back and forth as their footsteps echo throughout the empty halls of Gekkoukan High. “I guess,” says Minato, “but I knew it was coming.” He is no stranger to death, both others and his own.
Ryoji hums in acknowledgment and says, “Still. Most people would be much more shaken up.”
Minato shrugs in response, because he doesn’t have much to say. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Will I be able to see them again?” he presses. Ryoji doesn’t respond. “Ryoji?”
“I don’t know,” Ryoji admits, and Minato feels something sink in his chest. “But knowing you, I’m sure it’ll be the case. You’re nothing if not full of miracles.” His smile differs from his usual ones, and Minato realizes he can tell his smiles apart. Sly, teasing, fond, kind—but this one is impossibly happy and sad at the same time. A contradiction at its very core.
They’ve made it to the main lobby, which is as abandoned as the rest of the school. Minato’s hands trace along the wall as they walk, cold to the touch. It all feels so real.
“I’m not nearly as amazing as you think,” he says as they go outside. The door shuts behind them with a definitive CLANG. There’s no turning back now. He may have been able to use multiple Personas, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t enough to keep him alive. If anything, Ryoji is the extraordinary one, what with not even being human and all.
Slowly, carefully, Ryoji frames Minato’s face with his hands and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You have beauty inside the likes of which you could never believe,” he says. “Your strength is absolute.” It has the bittersweet taste of a goodbye and an I love you.
“Are you leaving as well?” asks Minato. Don’t go, he wants to say. Wants to be selfish and ask him to stay. All the sudden, he’s worried about the idea of being alone, of Ryoji no longer being by his side.
“Of course not,” says Ryoji with a grave look on his face. “No matter what, I will help you shoulder the cross you have to bear. Even if the universe tries to tear us apart, you will never carry your burden alone.” In what way, he does not specify. But it’s more than enough.
Minato does not thank him—he kisses him instead, short and chaste. There’s a sinking feeling that they may not be able to do this for much longer, that this is an opportunity he needs to take advantage of while he still can. There is not much room for Ryoji to react, as Minato’s already pulling back before he has the chance to reciprocate or push him away.
Strangely enough, the only thing Minato registered from the kiss was that Ryoji’s lips were chapped. That, and a warm feeling inside him. “Okay,” he says, “I’m ready now. I just wanted to do that quickly.”
Ryoji looks at him with so much longing and love that there’s nothing Minato wants more than to kiss him again. But he doesn’t, because Ryoji says, “Then let’s go,” before he gets the chance. There’s no denying him that simple request, no going back.
And so, side by side, they walk out the front gate and toward an unknown destination. But it doesn’t matter what it is, because they are together. And to Minato, that’s the only thing that matters.