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There are secrets Makoto stores deep within the creases of his palms that Ryoji desperately wished to know.
There was a distant familiarity about the boy that drove Ryoji up the wall.
Makoto’s hazy gray stare, his voice, his manner of being felt like it was all known and engraved against Ryoji’s searing bones– Why am I more familiar with you than my own self?
Makoto’s hands, lightly tracing the textbook beneath his fingertips, looked like it craved for something more.
He looks like he could easily wield a holy sword by his side as the distant wisps of fire clings onto his palms and he could revitalize anyone with the charming strums of a lyre.
Ryoji feels a memory bubbling in his mind, an orchestra with their harpists gently plucking at the strings, lulling the audience into a deep comfort. That comfort radiates off of Makoto, who manages to bask in the sun even seated far away from the window in 2F.
Ryoji is enthralled. Perhaps instead of strings, Makoto could very well play with his heart. He agreed with himself as he watched the boy swiping at his bangs to look at the text he read, sea-like eyes staring down the material with such admirable and fierce kindness.
Ryoji looks down at his own textbook in a daze, fingers curling around the pages wondering if Makoto’s heart beats in sync with his.
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There he is again, leaning against the gate on the rooftop.
Ryoji looks at him, mystified, like there is someone supposed to be beside him, but there is only an empty space. He eagerly wishes to fill that spot.
Makoto glances up at him, arms wound around himself, caught in the bitter winds of autumn. Ryoji smiles like always as he approaches the other boy.
“Mochizuki-kun,” he greets. Ryoji feels that same sensation brewing deep within his chest, Makoto’s voice was always so soothing, like a warm blanket, and the way he said his name too… It was all too familiar, like they’d say each other’s names a million times before now.
“I see you're still not just quite hung up on calling me Ryoji, huh?” Ryoji stands in front of him. Makoto’s arms drop to his sides, falling into that deep silence that naturally followed him. There are secrets on his palms, but Ryoji can also see them caged inside his mouth.
Ryoji wished to pry them open and hear those secrets against his own lips. Tell me, what lingers in your mind at night? What do you feel under the full moon?
“What brings you up here?” Makoto asks, and it successfully snaps him out of his thoughts. Ryoji grabs at his scarf, warmth filling his long fingers as he touches the dandelion fabric.
“I don't know.” Ryoji admits, enchanted by the way the sun gleamed against the rolling waves of the waters in the port. “I felt drawn up here, like there was someone calling for me,” he murmurs.
Makoto doesn't respond. He stares with him down at the water. Ryoji’s heart rises in his throat. He wants to talk with him. There was something screaming in his mind to envelop his figure and meld with him, to talk endlessly and unravel his thoughts and their words would only be carried in the wind.
“Thank you.” Ryoji abruptly chokes out.
Makoto looks back up at him, confusion lacing his brow.
“For showing me around. You're very kind.”
That elicits a smile from Makoto. It was small, like a tiny light you’d catch on a sparkler as the new year began and you and your friends all crowded together in high hopes for the progression of time.
It was going to be the new year soon. Perhaps he and Makoto and Junpei could all go somewhere together and hold the same sparklers he once held in his childhood. His… childhood…
“The more you show me around, I feel like I’m collecting more memories. The shrine was beautiful, the takoyaki was great, and the arcade was really fun.”
And you are the greatest experience of all, Ryoji discards beneath his teeth.
There is a deep silence between them. It isn't uncomfortable, though. It’s warm and welcoming.
“My dormmates said they liked seeing me with you.” Makoto suddenly says. Ryoji turns to look at his swaying blue hair.
“I don't know why they'd think so, but maybe it's because I’m also happy.” Makoto, this time, returns the stare with a look in his eyes that makes Ryoji want to cry.
It squeezes his heart like a sponge, leaves him out of breath, and torments his mind because he doesn't know why he feels so connected and so true with this boy.
Makoto was beautiful like an antique treasure or a crown of diamonds. He was so beautiful that it drew Ryoji in like a moth to a brilliant sun.
“I’m happy to hear that.” Ryoji admits.
They continue to wrap themselves in their silence, shadows eventually combining into one as the sun continues to fall.
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Kyoto was a sight to behold.
At Godaigo Inn, it felt overwhelmingly cozy. The hot springs were something everyone anticipated to dive into, and simply the vibe with the koto playing and soothing rush of natural noises from the decorative pond and walkway was enough to soothe the soul of the most tormented.
Ryoji was easily intrigued by the water in the Kamo River which continued onwards despite the bloodied history and incidents of Higashiyama.
Even as the blood washed out of the lands, the people still walked side by side with smiles gracing their faces. Their bonds were inseparable, thick, and Ryoji mulls over the tale of the red string of fate.
Perhaps, for Makoto, he did not have one string, but a web. Ryoji sees him at the inn chatting in such a quiet voice to Miyamoto and Tomochika, to move on and hover over Suemitsu, then swiftly moved onto the cute Yamagishi and Aigis upstairs and then speak to Nishiwaki all the while still carrying that same tone of voice that unraveled the strings of Ryoji’s heart.
He sleeps, or at least he tries to, mind muddled with the mysteries of bonds.
The next day, they all go sightseeing at the Kiyomizu-dera, admiring the Otowa waterfall that was believed to grant wishes; Ryoji fumbles and throws a coin in the bottom of the lake wishing for a long future with his friends.
After a long morning of ransacking shops and being shoved by the teachers back at the inn, many of the students discard their Gekkoukan blazers and trousers for a comfortable yukata.
Makoto is so beautiful in purple. He’s beautiful in anything, really. He holds two souvenir bags, and smiles when Ryoji asks him what’s inside. It makes Ryoji smile himself listening to him explain he wanted to bring gifts for a child name Ken Amada–
“He attends the Gekkoukan middle school, you might’ve seen him at the dorms… I also have a charm for Koromaru, do you remember him?”
And of course he does, because Ryoji would never forget the Iwatodai Dorm’s cute dog that licked Makoto’s hands. Makoto continues in a hushed voice of who else would receive his gifts.
They eventually make their way in their shared room, admiring the courtyard nestled in the heart of Godaigo, and the stars above them. Ryoji laughs for them both, small and contained and breathless as he slowly prods Makoto’s heart open and listens to him talking about the moments he experienced at highschool or in the dorms.
He talks about his first time cooking in the dorm, the first time brewing coffee and tea, the first time he tended a garden with tiny tomatoes, and when he spent ¥9,000 to get three plushies for a close friend.
It’s so enthralling, seeing Makoto doing the talking for once, bathed in the moonlight like it was a spotlight that allowed him to finally speak. Ryoji interjects with a comment from time to time, just to see Makoto smile or laugh like Ryoji did.
“We should go karaoking some time, Ryoji-kun,” Makoto proposes after telling him about his long session with Tomochika and Junpei in September.
“You called me Ryoji,” he points out instead, smiling all too dopey and heart all too fast. Makoto blinks, and then looks away in embarrassment.
Ryoji finds himself placing a hand atop Makoto’s, his fingers longer than the other boy’s, but just as rough. They share the same calluses, and Ryoji rubs his thumb soothingly across the skin of Makoto’s hand, feeling bones trapped underneath.
“Would you like to go to the riverbank with me tomorrow?” he asks, voice rushed. Makoto nods at his question with no hesitation, eyes meeting again. His eyes shared the color of the moon, so gray yet so blue and so distant yet so warm.
“Okay,” Ryoji doesn’t drop his smile, squeezing Makoto’s hand.
He definitely wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight either, with his heart pounding in a desperate attempt to burst out of his chest.
It’s tomorrow in a flash, and they’re together again standing on the slope of the riverbank and the sun is already setting, demanding another greedy meal of time.
He huddles close to Makoto, showing him his music box, promising he’ll continue to listen to the melody in the far future, perhaps far away or close to his dear friends.
He voices his concerns with death, unable to label their relationship together. He cannot bear to think about losing Makoto. It hurts him, and it’s so confusing but understandable and inevitable.
Makoto says he doesn’t know why people form bonds with each other so hopelessly, even with that red web of fate crossing his chest like an extra layer of skin.
Ryoji grows more distraught, more lost in thought. What is this feeling in my chest? Why am I so drawn to you, Makoto, and why do I want to climb that protective wall you casted between everyone and yourself?
The river marches onwards still, towards the vast and endless ocean. The water will tread a long and rigorous journey, just like Ryoji. It will wake up with a buzz and run and sprint and walk and admire life and be met with infinite emotions.
“Time with you is so precious, Makoto-kun.” he breathes, fingers itching to hold Makoto’s hand again. “Everything is so fascinating when you’re by my side.” I hope we stay side by side forevermore, goes left unsaid.
They return to the inn and get dragged into the hot springs by Junpei with Akihiko.
They leave with their heads pounding and body aching from torture, thanks to Kirijo’s death sentence, but Makoto is laughing inside their room, so Ryoji listens so intently, reminded of a faraway spring morning when the wind chimes dance with the wind, and then laughs softly with him.
They lie down, so close to each other, and they can feel their breath fanning on each other’s faces as Ryoji’s hand brushed against Makoto’s.
“I want to kiss you.” Ryoji says, eyes meeting him.
Makoto detaches his hand from Ryoji’s grazing to thumb the beauty mark beneath his left eye.
“Okay.” Makoto leans in, and his lips are so soft. Ryoji can feel his secrets brewing well under, and pushes forward. He wants to experience Yuki Makoto, wants to meld into his soul and never let go of his hand and he wants to wake up on spring mornings to listen to his laughter that sounds as gentle as the wind chimes.
Ryoji is so hopelessly in love. Doom and love nestles in his heart.
They part from each other, and when Junpei walks in moments later whining about how he got demolished by Kirijo’s execution, they act like nothing intimate had happened, only poking jokingly at Junpei’s demise.
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Time is running out for Ryoji, he soon realizes.
The edges of the red music box dig into his palms. The keys beneath his fingers did not play a note under the softness of the touch, until Makoto came in, face so wistful, like he can also feel something brewing well within Ryoji.
Can he feel the clock tucked away in his chest which chimed so loudly in his mind? Can he feel the urge to reach out and touch everything before time ran out in a hurried attempt to remember every sensation? Can he feel his burning desire, his burning despair, his burning anticipation?
He stands from the piano. His last concert for Makoto will wait for tomorrow.
Ryoji grabs Makoto’s wrist. He feels their first– was it their first?– time that they spent together wandering around Iwatodai and Tatsumi Port.
He remembers the shrine and the taunting giggles of a fox, the feeling of a joystick etched into his hands as Makoto encouraged him to scoop up a plushie from the claw machines, he remembers the scenery from the rooftop and the video games in Junpei’s dorm room and his kiss with Makoto.
He leans forward again, hungry and scared, and kisses him again. Ryoji wants to kiss him forever. He wants everything. When they pull apart again, Ryoji pushes away the urge to continue to kiss him and asks him to come again to the music clubroom after school tomorrow.
When Makoto nods, and they kiss again, Ryoji tries to ignore the tears building in his eyes.
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Ryoji has many names, he realizes, watching as Aigis sheds her uniform to show a body of ivory and golden machinery.
He is Death, Aigis tells him. He was born from the union of the twelve arcana.
He is also Pharos, a prisoner bound to Makoto’s soul, born only ten years ago.
He is also Thanatos, a harbinger of death and the son of Nyx who carried people to Tartarus. He is more gentle than his sisters.
On the Moonlight Bridge, as Aigis leaps in a reminiscent way from ten years ago ready to attack him, he is Mochizuki Ryoji, a highschooler who wears a yellow scarf and is constantly desperate.
Unlike ten years ago, the fight does not last long. The shards of the missing twelve arcana latched onto him and Aigis is out of commission, flashing red, and Makoto is here now with the rest of the S.E.E.S.
Death watches him kneel next to Aigis, reassuring her everything would be okay. Death wishes that were true.
He comes forward, and all eyes are on him. Aigis sparks, and her head lowers. Death will not come for her, though.
They talk, and his voice doesn't have the same element to it as it had before now. He feels lonely and scared. He is scared because the earth will die and Nyx will be the one to kill it and not even Makoto or Aigis can stop it.
Death passes out at their feet, and wakes up the next day at the Iwatodai Dorm.
They talk more. They talk about Nyx and the end of the world and how everyone on Earth would soon fall into the depths of the shadows. He begs Makoto to kill him so he can live in peace.
Makoto is so kind, so warm, and gives Death itself emotions. He gave love, hate, sadness, and he was a gift that kept on giving. So he asks Makoto to kill him, because he wants to see him one last time embraced in happiness before the inevitability of Nyx.
Death stands, gives an ultimatum, and tells the S.E.E.S he will return on December 31st.
When he leaves the dorm, he finds himself at Kamo River in Kyoto and cries silently.
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As promised, Death reappears on December 31st.
Makoto’s room feels like home to him. He remembers every single past home Makoto lived in after his parents died, but this room specifically was the best of them all.
Makoto does not call him Death or Thanatos or Pharos. He still calls him Ryoji. “You’re still human,” he murmurs, placing his hand on Ryoji’s chest.
“Please kill me.” Death– Ryoji bites back his tears. He's found himself crying so much recently. Humans cry so much. It hurts.
“Please don't do this to yourself, I want to see you happy,” Ryoji begs him, standing from Makoto’s bed and stepping all too close to him. He grabs Makoto’s hands with such a firm intensity. He never wants to let go.
Makoto laughs, and Ryoji begins to cry because he knows he’ll miss that laugh, miss that smile, miss his lips and warm hands and his entire being.
“You leave me for 28 days, ask me to kill you and you think I’ll be happy?” Makoto asks, detaching his hand and curls his fingers across Ryoji’s sternum. Makoto fiddles with his scarf.
No. Ryoji thinks, but he can't bring himself to speak right now. He hates being the one bringing Makoto to pain. He wishes he could comfort Makoto, and wishes he could save him and him alone from death.
Ryoji feels so much around Makoto. He’s only able to feel because of Makoto.
“I love you.” Makoto’s voice cracks. Makoto is very stoic, very still in his words. Hearing his voice crack is all too painful. Ryoji feels pain, love and sorrow.
“I love you too.” Ryoji affirms, wrapping his arms around Makoto. He’s so warm. Ryoji doesn't want to let go. Makoto wraps his own arms around Ryoji’s neck. “I love you so much, Makoto. I love you, I love you…” he repeats on and on like a mantra. Makoto is more of a god than he is. Ryoji would pray to him every day and night. Death is fond of life.
Ryoji feels his shoulder wet with tears as Makoto buries his face into him. “I won't kill you, Ryoji.” he says. Ryoji cards his fingers into his dark blue hair. Makoto buries his face deeper with a shudder.
“Somehow, I already knew you were going to say that. I can’t change your mind, can I?” he breathes into Makoto’s ear, who shakes his head. Makoto hugs him tighter, and then looks up. He pushes forward and kisses Ryoji.
Ryoji sinks into it, tears trailing down his face. Makoto is crying too. For now, until midnight, they’d have each other and Ryoji would make sure Makoto knew how much he loved him.
He would brush his fingers against Makoto’s hips in sloppy Japanese that said I love you. He would knock their foreheads together and kiss him so deeply neither of them would break away.
He would do anything for Makoto, but Ryoji is Death and Death will soon be forced to shakily embrace Makoto and escort him to the afterlife as the Avatar of Nyx annihilated all.
Death will die in the end alongside his lover, but tonight in Makoto’s room solely lit by the moon from the window, they merge into one being and remember every single crevasse of their beings.
It taints Ryoji’s heart knowing that either way he will have to face him in battle for the sake of his mother.
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His mother, Nyx, meets the same fate as Death ten years ago, sealed behind Makoto for an eternity in the great newly changed blue skies of the Universe.
Nyx’s Avatar cloaks his feathered body around Makoto’s spirit. He slides his hand into Makoto’s, now locked in a never ending battle to keep Nyx far away from his world.
His body lingers on Earth one last time, a promise chiseled into his brain that he insisted he’d never break.
Makoto finally dies on March 5th, on the crumbled apex of the world. Flowers drift onto his closed eyes, and when his body finds his spirit in the Great Seal, Nyx’s Avatar becomes Mochizuki Ryoji once more and he welcomes him back with a sorrowful kiss.