Archive of Our Own

Minato was supposed to feel excited. He was supposed to feel happy. He was supposed to feel… something. 

A person’s 17th birthday was supposed to be one of, if not the most important day of their life. It was the day a person got their soulmark, the day they set out on their journey to find the person they were eternally bound to, the day they learned something about who they truly were. It was supposed to be a day of celebration; a day of lavish parties and heartfelt confessions between those who happened to already know the person with their matching mark. 

Minato had never been quite as excited to receive his soulmark as others tended to be, but that didn’t mean he didn’t occasionally find himself wondering about it. He had never put too much thought into who his soulmate was, exactly—another thing that differentiated him from his peers—but he did hold a certain hope in his heart that he would be able to find them someday, and, as of late, he realized that he may have had a particular someone in mind. He vaguely hoped that his 17th birthday would play out similarly to the cheesy romantic movies his sister had forced him to watch before she passed, and that whoever his soulmate wound up being, he wouldn’t have to spend his life searching for them in vain.

But now, as the time inched closer and closer to midnight, Minato didn’t feel any of that. 

He felt… scared, he finally admitted to himself. It would have been easier to just brush everything off as him feeling apathetic, his general fallback for when he was feeling things he didn’t want to feel, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that this time. He was scared, terrified, and there was no beating around the bush. 

He wasn’t scared about receiving his soulmark; To be honest, he couldn’t have cared less about who he ended up with. He just maybe might have had someone in mind, but even if he didn’t feel the same way, that wasn’t the end of the world. As long as his soulmate was kind and treated him well, he didn’t care who they were. 

No, he was scared because of the incredibly unfortunate date that his birthday happened to land on. 

In just a few minutes, it would become November 3rd, the first full moon since—

No. He swallowed, picking at his wrist nervously as he watched the minutes tick down at the top of his phone screen. If he worried about that now, it would only affect his performance tomorrow. And if he let his anxiety get in the way of his combat ability—

Okay, nope, not helping. Just focus on your soulmark, he reminded himself, though he knew that his thoughts would loop back around to the full moon eventually. Today is supposed to be about celebration. 

So, he forced his worries away, just for a moment. Tried not to think about the date, or about the empty room across the hall. Tried not to think about the girl that should be sitting on his bed with him like they’d promised to do on their 17th birthday, or about the excited, overjoyed smile that would be on her face right about now. Instead he felt nothing, which he wasn’t sure was any better than letting himself be consumed by fear. It was a constricting numbness that he hadn’t felt since last month, and with as miserable as it made him, he knew it was less likely to affect his skill in battle than fear was, so he didn’t attempt to fight it. He’d fought without emotion before, but he’d never fought with paralyzing fear and anxiety, and that really wasn’t something he wanted to risk. 

11:59. He watched the top of his phone screen anxiously as he’d done time and time again, but for once, he wasn’t clutching a sword and preparing for a battle against the unknown. Though, really, he may as well have been. Deep down, he wished that the fight was today, just so he wouldn’t have to dedicate energy to thinking about all of the things he’d tried so hard to push away. He wondered for a moment who his soulmate would be, but the thought dissolved just as suddenly as it had appeared. Did it even matter? When he was putting his life on the line so frequently, could something as insignificant as his soulmark even matter? With the way the past month had gone, his soulmate may have passed on already, and no mark would appear on his wrist at all. Or, maybe the opposite would happen. Maybe he would leave someone without a soulmark tomorrow, and make some poor soul mourn a person they’d never even had the chance to meet. 

Just like Shinjiro’s soulmate, who had never even gotten to meet him before the marking had faded from their wrist. 

Minato swallowed. Five seconds now, though each of them passed like centuries. It was during one of these hundred-year-long seconds that he had the unfortunate realization that his marking may not appear at midnight at all, due to the presence of the Dark Hour. He clenched his fist and hoped that with all of the disruptions and oddities that came from the 25th hour, this wouldn’t be one of them. He wasn’t sure he could live in this horrible suspense for another hour. 

Four. 

Three.

Two. 

One.

Minato squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the Dark Hour forming around him, felt the cold air engulfing him as the heaters in the dorm went out, and, even with his eyes closed, could feel the almost full-moon shining brightly in the sky. 

Deep breath. He couldn’t avoid this forever. 

He opened his eyes. Immediately, he felt a wave of relief wash over him as he noticed a prominent black marking on his wrist. He had a soulmate, and they were alive. That was something to celebrate, right? He felt his nerves settle in his chest as he began to trace across the pattern. He’d never seen a soulmark this fresh before, and it almost looked as if it would rub off against his fingertips if he wasn’t careful enough. Minato began to examine his new mark with a smile curling at his lips, for once allowing himself to be free of the chains of guilt and fear that had bound him this past month. It was a treble clef and a lightning bolt, he realized once his initial adrenaline wore off. He assumed that the treble clef was representative of him, considering the fact that he had his MP3 player hanging from his neck at this very moment, so that only left the question of who the lightning bolt was. Hm. It was a rather vague symbol compared to his own, so he didn’t have any immediate suspects in mind. Well, he supposed that didn’t matter too much. He had all the time he needed to find out who his soulmate was, after all. 

… But did he really? 

Minato shook his head. He moved his eyes back to his wrist, desperate to distract himself. 

Lightning bolt, huh? For some reason he couldn’t place, that seemed familiar. Not even specifically the soulmark, either, but the symbol in general. He laid back against his pillow as he lost himself in thought, trying to figure out where his Deja Vu was coming from. 

Lightning bolt. Lightning bolt. Lightning. Bolt. Why did that feel so familiar? He could almost see it in his mind, feel the significance of the symbol in his hand, but he couldn’t quite remember what or who he was thinking of. Eventually, he decided to move onto a process of elimination. 

Was he thinking of Yukari? No, she was scared of lightning, and weak to it in battle. And even if she wasn’t, Yukari hadn’t gotten a soulmark on her birthday, meaning her soulmate had passed. Minato bit his lip, feeling guilty that she was his first thought despite that.

Fuuka, maybe? She had mentioned that she enjoyed the sound of storms, but he didn’t think that something so small was what was giving him this strong of a feeling. 

Junpei, then? Unless he was thinking about how Akihiko had found him crying in front of a convenience store in the middle of a storm when he’d first awakened to his Persona, he doubted that—

Wait a minute. 

In an instant, it clicked, and Minato’s breath caught in his throat.

“I do have to wonder why I got a lightning bolt instead of a boxing glove on my soulmark,” Akihiko had said with a quiet laugh, gently tracing over the ink on his wrist as he showed it to Minato for the first and only time. “I guess that would have been a little too on-the-nose.” 

No. 

“Assuming the lightning bolt’s for me, anyway.” He stretched, though Minato’s eyes hadn’t left his soulmark. The image of it was still fresh in his mind, even now. “I doubt I’ll develop a sudden interest in music over the next few years, though. That’s more of your thing.”

Nonononono. 

Minato yanked his sleeve back down to cover his wrist. 

“I try not to think about it too much so it doesn’t distract me from my training, but I have to wonder who this treble clef represents.” Akihiko had smiled particularly brightly after saying that. And, no, Minato definitely wasn’t staring. He just happened to catch a glimpse. “I didn’t even know what that was until I got my soulmark, as embarrassing as that is. I had to ask Mitsuru what it was supposed to be. I hope my soulmate will forgive me, whoever they are.”

Fuck. 

His breaths were frantic and weak. He clutched onto his sleeve like his life depended on it, as if this was suddenly a secret that he would have to take to the grave. 

A grave that, if things went like they had last month, wouldn’t be too far away. 

Akihiko was his soulmate. 

Akihiko. Was his soulmate. 

He repeated the words in his mind over and over again until he could finally let the reality of his situation sink in. 

Akihiko was his soulmate. 

He should be happy. Minato knew he should be happy, because he was daydreaming about the idea of Akihiko being his soulmate five goddamn minutes ago. 

A part of him was happy. A part of him deep down in his heart was overjoyed, knowing that Akihiko must have felt the same way that he did. Knowing that both of their feelings were strong enough to connect them eternally, knowing that he would finally have the opportunity to do all of those cheesy romantic things that popped up in his head whenever he didn’t have the energy to shoo them away, knowing that after this last battle, they would both be able to love each other and enjoy life as normal high school students, hopefully being able to officially start dating before Akihiko graduated and moved out of the dorm. 

But that was the problem. After this last battle. They would be able to do all of those things if they made it out of this alive. And with Akihiko, that was a big ‘if.’

He was so reckless. So stupidly reckless. So reckless that he’d always heal everyone else before himself, so reckless that there were about as many scars on his arms as there were tiny, unnoticeable freckles on his cheeks, so reckless that Minato needed both hands to count the amount of times he’d had to mentally prepare himself for the idea of losing him entirely. 

Minato bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

He couldn’t say he was any different, really. He fought with just as little of a regard for himself as Akihiko did, and Akihiko himself had called him out for it more than once, as hypocritical as that was. 

There were two important differences, though. 

The first was obvious—Minato could use multiple Personas. Caesar was strong, and Akihiko’s stupid insistence of punching his way through everything that moved made up for a lot of its weaknesses, but at the end of the day, it was only one Persona. Caesar was strong, sure, but it couldn’t pull a Salvation/Megido/Diamond Dust/whateverthefuckelse he’d managed to accidentally fuse out of its ass like Minato’s Personas could. That was something Minato had brought up to him more than once, and every single time, he’d gotten the same response. 

A shrug and a, “Well, you don’t know how to fight with your fists. So I guess we’re even.” 

As if a punch could ever possibly compare to a giant beam of exploding death light. 

He was so dumb. Minato hated him. He loved him so much. 

The second difference was… less obvious, and something he was pretty sure most people would angrily disagree with if he ever accidentally let it slip to anyone. 

Ever since he was a child, Minato had held the belief that his own life was inherently less valuable than everyone else’s. It had been born out of a dislike for himself and his lack of anyone he could really consider close to him, but now, he held that same belief for completely different reasons. 

He couldn’t lose anyone else. God, he didn’t know what he would do if he lost anyone else. His parents, Hamuko, and now Shinjiro. If he had to sacrifice himself for the sake of keeping his friends alive, then he’d do it in a heartbeat. He couldn’t go through this again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive. If another person had to die, he was going to make sure it was himself. He could promise that much.

Minato wondered briefly if it was selfish of him to even care as much as he did. He wasn’t going to pretend that he and Shinjiro had been best friends or anything. They had made dinner together a few times, talked to each other about their feelings while somehow managing to avoid actually opening up about anything, and Minato had tried getting him to go back to school for Mitsuru and Akihiko’s sakes. That was it, and the fact that Akihiko, his best friend, had seemed to get over this infinitely faster than Minato himself made him feel as if he was exaggerating this for the sake of attention and sympathy. 

Realistically, he knew he wasn’t. No one even knew that he hadn’t moved on, and he made sure of that. But still, the thought floated through his head from time to time. 

Minato released the death grip on his sleeve and took a deep breath. 

Akihiko was so reckless. So, so reckless. In all honesty, it was a miracle he’d even survived this long with the way he fought. He’d already been terrified of losing him before, but now that there was a symbol eternally binding the two of them together? It didn’t feel like a lightning bolt and a treble clef as much as it did a ticking clock, counting down the days until Akihiko took one last Bufudyne or Brave Blade he couldn’t shake off. 

And tomorrow was a full moon. They’d have to face Strega again. How painfully ironic would it be if…

Stop it. 

Minato stood up from his bed and stretched his arms. His sleeves rolled up as he did so, but he reached to pull them back down faster than he’d done anything in his life. 

He had to get out of this room. 

He knew it was risky, and if he was in any better of a headspace, he wouldn’t have considered leaving his room at all until he had a plan for how he was going to hide this from the rest of S.E.E.S. But if he stayed in here any longer, he felt like he was going to collapse under the weight of his own fear and guilt. He doubted anyone else was even awake right now, anyway—surely the rest of the team would all be sleeping to prepare themselves for tomorrow’s operation. 

He turned the doorknob with one hand, and held his sleeve down with the other. 

The hallway was just as silent as he expected it to be. Usually there was at least some chatter during the Dark Hour, whether it be Yukari and Fuuka chatting about the TV show they had been watching before the power turned off or Junpei lamenting that he had to wait an hour to finish the level of the game he was playing, but the nights before operations were always completely silent. He could still fear the piercing silence of October 3rd in his mind, even now. 

Minato made sure his footsteps were completely silent as he descended the stairs to the first floor lobby. The absolute last thing he wanted right now was to wake anyone up and get interrogated as to why he was awake during the Dark Hour on such an important night, and unlike he usually did when he was staying up way later than he should have, he didn’t have an excuse prepared. He looked around quickly as he reached the bottom of the stairs, thankfully not spotting anyone on the couches in the lounge.

He… wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do now that he was out of his room. His first instinct was to watch some stupid late-night documentary on TV that got so much information incorrect that his annoyance overrode his panic, but the whole ‘it’s the Dark Hour’ thing put a dent in that plan. He instead stood awkwardly in the stairwell for several minutes, staring blankly at the corkboard that hadn’t been used since mid-July as if it would somehow come to life and tell him what to do. 

Thankfully, even just being out of the confines of his room helped Minato calm down a bit. He didn’t feel like he was going to collapse underneath the weight of his fear anymore, even if the markings on his wrist still felt like an open wound. Eventually, after he’d decided he’d stood like a scarecrow in the stairwell for a sufficiently long time, Minato decided to grab a glass of water in the hopes it would help calm him enough to allow him to at least attempt to get some sleep. The sink didn’t work during the Dark Hour due to the whole blood-water thing, but he was pretty sure Mitsuru kept a few special water bottles in the refrigerator just in case someone happened to need one. Plus, as Yukari and Akihiko had told him about a thousand times by now, he needed to drink more water anyway. Minato started to walk towards the kitchen, before a quiet squeaking sound caught him off-guard. He froze in his tracks immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he feared a Shadow may have somehow gotten inside, but let out a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Akihiko polishing his gloves at the bar. 

…

Wait a minute. 

“Minato?” Akihiko asked, pausing his movements and raising a concerned eyebrow.

Of course this would happen. Of course this would happen today and now when Minato had never seen him awake during the Dark Hour when he didn’t need to be. Of course. He felt his heart sink so deep into his chest he didn’t think it was possible, and for a moment, genuinely wondered if he should just run back to his room.

“Y-Yeah?” It took a significant effort for Minato not to bash his head against the wall, and an even greater effort to force his voice to remain calm and steady as he spoke. He still stuttered a bit, to his dismay, but Akihiko thankfully didn’t seem to notice. He froze in place momentarily, the shock of seeing Akihiko now causing his body to stop moving entirely. Still, he managed to break through the chill in his body to grab a fistful of his sleeve, holding it in place with a deathly strong grip. He couldn’t avoid seeing Akihiko, but he could still avoid showing him the truth. He had to. At least until he was sure they would both make it to graduation.

“Why are you awake?” He asked simply, still looking at him with vague concern. Minato took a single step backward, ready to just retreat back to his room and deal with the consequences of his own mind, but Akihiko seemed to read him immediately. “You’re not in trouble or anything.” He laughed quietly, continuing to clean his boxing gloves for a few seconds before pausing again. “I was just wondering. Usually you’re pretty good about sleeping early the night before a mission.” 

“I could say the same thing about you.” As if he was under a spell, Minato’s body almost seemed to move towards Akihiko on its own volition, despite his brain screaming a thousand different warnings at him. Minato knew the consequences of this, knew the consequences of having to talk to his apparent soulmate the night before there was a very real chance one of them could die, but by the time he had half a mind to stop himself, he found that he was already in the process of sitting down on the stool next to Akihiko. 

Minato wanted to strangle himself. He was usually pretty good at listening to his brain rather than his heart, but Akihiko had an infuriating way of flipping that on its head. 

The grasp on his sleeve tightened. Okay, fine. He apparently couldn’t avoid talking to Akihiko, but he could still avoid actually revealing his soulmark or his true feelings. He had to. He could tell him once this was all over, once he was completely positive that he wouldn’t have to either watch Akihiko’s life fade away in front of him, or feel his own heart stop beating under the piercing gaze of tear-filled gray eyes. 

Gray eyes that were staring at him, Minato realized a few seconds too late. 

“You shouldn’t be worrying about me when you look like you’re completely out of it.” Akihiko set his boxing gloves aside, then took a drink of water out of a glass that Minato hadn’t noticed before. “Seriously, are you alright? You don’t look good.” If Akihiko had said those words to him just a few hours earlier, Minato would have felt his heart flutter and his face darken, but now, he felt an entire tsunami of different feelings crash into him. 

He cares about me, a part of him said, wanting to smile with such giddiness that it would have looked like young Hamuko more than himself. He really does love me. I can’t wait to be able to tell him how I feel. 

He cares about me, another part of him said, wanting to run upstairs and bury himself under the covers of his bed. And he’s going to have to watch me die. How horrible. 

“Wow. Thanks.” Minato tried to force his voice to sound sarcastic despite the waves of emotions crashing into him repeatedly. It felt strained and unnatural, but he doubted Akihiko could tell—he never was one for reading other people’s expressions. Though, sometimes, it did feel as though he had a knack for knowing what Minato was feeling in particular. He hoped that was nothing more than his imagination.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Akihiko’s eyes glowed with concern, and Minato looked down on impulse. Before his eyes hit the carpet, he caught a small glimpse of the ink on Akihiko’s wrist peeking out from the light gray gloves he always wore. Suddenly, he felt his face burn with several different, horrible feelings. “You just look… sick, I guess. And after what happened last time, that really isn’t a good sign.” 

“Last time wasn’t that bad,” he excused, because the thought of having Akihiko dote on him even the tiniest amount was enough to make him feel like he was about to implode. Even now, thinking about how Akihiko had brought him soup and cough syrup during his illness made him feel warm inside. 

“You were completely bedridden for three days, Minato.” Akihiko spoke with a surprising amount of concern, as if it hadn’t been over a month ago by this point. He was so sweet. He hated him so much. He loved him so much. 

“Eh.” He shrugged. Minato glanced up, and Akihiko looked about ready to deck him in the face. 

“The point is that I hope you’re not getting sick.” He took another drink of water, and Minato kept his eyes locked with the ground like his life depended on it. “Especially since today is…” Akihiko trailed off, and Minato’s fingers subconsciously curled into his palm. 

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, in hopes that Akihiko wouldn’t elaborate any further. He already knew exactly what he was referring to, and he knew that Akihiko knew that as well. He just didn’t want to hear it said aloud. Akihiko took another sip of water, and Minato’s eyes betrayed him. He made eye contact with him for a brief moment, and though it wasn’t even for a full second, he could already feel the conflicted pain held in his eyes. Minato swallowed. 

“So,” Akihiko stretched, seeming just as desperate for a change of conversation as he was. “Why’d you come down here? Trouble sleeping? Midnight snack? Did you leave some supplies in the lounge?” Minato swallowed. 

“Wanted a glass of water.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Sure, the reason he wanted a glass of water was that he’d just found out the most conflicting piece of information of his life and he felt like he was going to collapse underneath the weight of it all, but at the end of the day, he had come down to the lounge for a glass of water. 

“Oh, sorry, I took the last bottle we had.” Akihiko paused for a moment before sliding his glass across the table. “You can have mine. I’m not thirsty anymore.” Minato hesitated for a moment before taking the glass into his hands. Really, he didn’t need the water—he’d just needed something to distract himself. For a moment he felt a bit guilty for taking this from Akihiko when he didn’t truly need it, before he came back down to reality and remembered that it was a glass of water and that it couldn’t have possibly mattered any less. 

“Thanks.” The glass wasn’t as cold as Minato expected it to be. It was room temperature, as if Akihiko had already been down here for a long time already. He raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you come down here?” Minato asked, realizing that, even in the midst of Akihiko’s interrogation, he hadn’t bothered figuring out why his senior was sitting in the kitchen polishing his boxing gloves in the middle of the Dark Hour. Akihiko took a suspiciously long pause before answering, clearly not expecting his question to be flipped back onto him. 

“Ah, well—” He stuttered out, and Minato nearly choked on his water at the realization that he was hiding something just like Minato was. Now he just had to figure out what it was, hopefully without admitting his own secret. “I had to polish my gloves for tomorrow, and the lounge has better lighting than my room.” 

“No,” Minato answered simply. He probably could have found a better way to word that didn’t make him sound like a toddler, but he knew that Akihiko was lying through his teeth.

“Wh—What do you mean ‘no’?” Though he was trying his best not to look directly at Akihiko’s face, Minato noticed a small blush out of the corner of his eye. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it at least a bit cute, even now. 

“That’s not why you came down here.” Akihiko made a choked out noise, then quickly tried to hide it by biting his lip.

“How do you know that?” Akihiko tugged at the ends of his gloves like he always did when he was nervous. Minato probably wouldn’t have known that if he wasn’t staring at Akihiko more often than he should have been, but, hey, it gave him more evidence that he was hiding something.

“Just a feeling,” he lied, but he quickly realized that this wasn’t actually going to get anywhere unless he actually provided some evidence. Which he did have, it was just… embarrassing. “And polishing gloves doesn’t actually help with performance, so you don’t need to clean them.”

“Alright, fine, I—” Akihiko cut himself off mid-confession. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“You told me.” Minato chose not to specify that Akihiko had only told him that once in passing, and that he’d only remembered it for the sake of trying to hold as much boxing information in his head as possible in the event that it ever came up in conversation. And he definitely chose not to specify that the only reason he cared enough to bother with such an unlikely scenario was that the one time Minato had correctly answered one of Akihiko’s boxing questions he’d smiled so stupidly wide and looked at him with such happiness in his eyes that it made Minato felt sick to his stomach with joy. Nope, a simple, ‘You told me,’ would suffice. 

“…I guess I probably did, yeah.” Akihiko sighed, once again fiddling with the ends of his gloves. This time, though, to Minato’s dismay, he slipped them off entirely, revealing his entire soulmark for the first time tonight, and, now that he thought about it, one of the first times ever. 

The speed at which Minato’s gaze reverted back to the floor was almost comical. 

“S-So…” Minato forced out after a few seconds, trying to ignore the burning anxiety pooling in his stomach. “What’s the real reason you came down here, then?” Akihiko didn’t answer him immediately, instead only responding with another sigh and a deflection. 

“What's the real reason you came down here?” He asked, and Minato’s head shot up.

“I told you. I wanted water,” he said again, not technically lying but not telling the truth either. He knew Akihiko wasn’t going to accept that as an answer, but he figured it was at least worth an attempt. 

“If you just wanted water, you wouldn’t still be down here.” Of course, he immediately saw right through him. Minato tugged at his sleeve.

“And if you were really down here just to polish your gloves, you wouldn’t still be talking to me.” Akihiko sighed with frustration, and just as Minato thought he’d finally cornered him, he once again found a way to wiggle his way out of actually giving an answer. 

“This isn’t going to go anywhere if we both keep dodging the question.” Exactly. Of course, Minato knew was being a massive hypocrite by not admitting the real reason he’d come down here, but, then again, he had an excuse. He was sure that Akihiko did too, but whatever it was, he doubted it was something as serious as his own reasoning. 

“So stop dodging the question, Akihiko.” 

“Why don’t you stop dodging the question?”

“Mm-mm.” Minato shook his head, trying to bite back the small amount of laughter he felt building up inside him as he glanced at Akihiko’s annoyed expression. 

“Go to bed, Minato,” he mumbled exasperatedly, picking absentmindedly at his wrist. The laughter building in Minato’s chest immediately dissipated. “The later you stay up, the more tired you’ll be for the fight today. I trust that you’re down here for a valid reason, but you’re putting yourself at risk.” His annoyance quickly turned into genuine concern, and Minato looked away once again. He worried that his inability to even look at Akihiko right now would partially limit his battle capabilities, but he was sure he’d have that sorted out by then. Hopefully.

“I don’t usually sleep until past the Dark Hour.” Akihiko let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t make me tell Mitsuru about this. You know she’ll put a stop to it.” Minato knew his threat was empty, and he let out a quiet laugh. Akihiko had threatened him the same way before, but after learning that she didn’t know how to eat a hamburger, it was pretty difficult to be afraid of her. 

“If you tell her, won’t you be admitting that you’re also awake during the Dark Hour?” 

“I don’t do it every night like you do.” That was a fair point. Unfortunately, Minato wasn’t going to lose this that easily. 

“Yeah, but today’s the night before a mission. That’s pretty irresponsible of a senior.” Minato almost heard Akihiko’s eye twitch. 

“I’d say it’s pretty irresponsible of a leader, too.” Akihiko took a deep breath in and out, and his frustration was clear in his voice. Minato would have felt bad, but he knew that keeping this secret was better for the both of them in the long run. “Fine, then. If I tell you, will you go back to sleep?” Minato looked up and nodded, feeling a tiny bit of his anxiety dissolve. He now had an excuse to go back to his room without disclosing why he’d come down here to begin with, and that was beyond relieving. He was sure Akihiko would try and beat it out of him, but technically, the only thing he’d agreed to was to go to sleep after Akihiko confessed his reasoning. Nothing more than that. Minato picked up the glass of water once again, now that he was able to comfortably hold it without worrying his shaky hands would cause him to drop it, and tilted it to get all of the remaining water out of it. Rotting in his own fears for so long had caused him to actually get a little thirsty, so he may as well drink the little water he had left before the sinks started to work again. He set the cup back down on the counter once he was done, raising an eyebrow at the surprised expression that Akihiko wore.

Apparently, the sweater Minato was wearing was pretty big on him. That was something he hadn’t really bothered to take note of, because why would he? Most of his clothes were oversized, anyway. They were more comfortable that way. 

But one thing he didn’t account for was his sleeves. His sleeves that, while being long enough to easily cover his soulmark, were big enough to easily slide down his arms when he wasn’t paying strict attention to them. 

“Woah, hey, when’d you get your soulmark?” Akihiko asked him, and Minato’s heart stopped beating entirely. His vision grew blurry, his face burned hotter than the heat of a thousand suns, and, as desperately as he tried to blink it away, a single tear welled up in his eye. He rushed to cover up the markings as soon as he had control over his body again, but the damage had already been done. His breath was ragged and frantic as he tried to say anything, but he couldn’t even manage an incoherent babble in response. “I could’ve sworn you were still sixteen. Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, then immediately changed his tone as he looked Minato up and down. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Everything is wrong. As soon as you realize the truth you’re going to protect me no matter what. And you’re too reckless to live through that. 

He was so fucking stupid. This wouldn’t have happened if he just had enough self control to leave the bar as soon as he noticed Akihiko sitting there. This wouldn’t have happened if he would have just played it safe and stayed in his room. This wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t so selfish, wanting to talk to Akihiko despite knowing the potential consequences of doing so. 

If he wasn’t so selfish, Akihiko wouldn’t die protecting him tomorrow. But now, he was seconds away from finding out the truth. And Minato knew him well enough to know that he would never in a million years let his soulmate die instead of him. 

If only he hadn’t been so selfish, he might have still had a soulmate by graduation.

“…Night.” He somehow managed to force out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stood up from the stool and started to walk towards the stairs. He knew Akihiko wouldn’t let that slide, knew that he would interrogate him as soon as he got the chance and that he would find out eventually anyway, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away now, and he could deal with whatever the consequences of that were later. He couldn’t do this now. Not until after the battle. 

Please, please not until after the battle. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from him for that long. But he had to have some amount of hope.

“Nope.” Akihiko grabbed his arm with ease, pulling him back towards the bar before he could manage to escape back to his room. Minato bit his lip. “What’s wrong?” He repeated, more stern this time. “Do you know who it is? Are they not who you wanted?” Ironically, that was both the truth and the furthest from it. If he had found out that Akihiko was his soulmate either a few months back or a few months in the future, he would have been completely overjoyed. Minato supposed he would have to add being born in November to his list of ways the world had decided to fuck him over at a cosmic level. 

“Let go of me!” Minato raised his voice to hide the fact that he was beyond terrified. Akihiko immediately noticed the change in his usual tone, and his eyes flashed with concern that made Minato feel sick to his stomach. 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Minato tried to fight back against his grasp, but with the mixture of Akihiko’s strength and his own current physical weakness, he couldn’t quite manage to break free from it. He shot Akihiko a glare in desperation, and while he felt his grip loosen slightly, it wasn’t enough for Minato to shake it off. He gave up fighting after a few seconds, realizing that even if he did manage to escape, Akihiko would most likely manage to find out before the battle tomorrow anyway. 

That didn’t mean he was going to tell him directly, though; Minato wasn’t sure those words could leave his mouth even if his life depended on it. So, he just sat back on the stool like a coward, and let Akihiko pull his sleeve back up with agonizing slowness after a few seconds of hesitance. Minato had moved his gaze back down to the ground, but he could clearly picture Akihiko’s expression in his head based on his touch alone. It was gentle and hesitant, as if he was silently asking for permission that it was okay. It wasn’t, but Minato knew that there was no use in telling him. He would find out eventually. Somehow, even if he screamed and cried and pushed Akihiko off of him, he would find out by tomorrow. Akihiko had that effect on people. If he was concerned about someone he cared about, he would always manage to get whatever information he needed out of them. He was just as protective over others as he was reckless, and if Minato wasn’t seconds away from sealing his fate, he would have called him out on the hypocrisy of it. But, right now, he just had to focus on not having a heart attack as Akihiko pulled up his sleeve. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but he could still only muster up several ragged breaths. 

I’m so sorry.

“O-Oh.” Minato felt Akihiko’s fingers tighten around his sleeve, then quickly release it. He bit his lip hard, feeling the smallest bit of blood drip from it. “It’s—You—I—We’re…?” 

“Sorry.” The apology left Minato’s mouth on impulse. He truthfully couldn’t tell whether Akihiko’s stumbling words were of pure surprise or a mix of that and disappointment, but it didn’t matter. Even if he wasn’t disappointed, he should be, but either way, that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was going to risk his own life to protect Minato’s—his soulmate’s— and that was something he couldn’t handle. With Akihiko’s deathly grip on his sleeve gone, Minato stood up and started to walk back up to his room, and, to his surprise, he didn’t attempt to stop him. He caught a glimpse of Akihiko’s expression as he walked away, and it was still impossible to tell what he was feeling other than shock. Minato heard him call out to him as he walked away, but it was unusually weak-sounding for someone so confident. Another small stream of blood flowed from Minato’s bottom lip. 

It was a miracle he didn’t pass out on his way upstairs. His vision was so blurry that he needed to hold onto the handrails to climb each step, and he barely managed to make his way through the hallway without collapsing from the weight of everything. Somehow, though, he managed to get to the end of the hallway and pull open his door. As soon as he shut it, he collapsed onto his bed, wrapping himself up in a soft blanket and trying to control the tears that had started spilling out of his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed them in the midst of everything that had happened, but now that he was alone, they were all he could think about. They were scalding hot on his face, reminding him of every way he’d horribly fucked this up. He could only hope that Akihiko hadn’t seen him cry, but even if he did, he doubted that would have been something he’d paid attention to. If it had been in any other circumstance Akihiko would have damn near interrogated him about why he was crying, considering he was usually able to keep up the facadé of being emotionless in the face of turmoil, but now, Minato figured he was much more occupied with the fact that his soulmate had just ran away from him and locked himself in his room to bother worrying about that right now. 

Locked. If only. 

With how stupidly extravagant some of the dorm’s facilities were, it was amazing that it didn’t have something as simple as locks for the doors. It was most likely to allow easy access in case of emergency, Minato figured, especially considering that this dorm was designed for Persona users specifically, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he had the ability to keep people out of his personal space when he wanted to be alone. That usually wasn’t a problem, but he knew for a fact that Akihiko wouldn’t listen to any request he made right now. 

“…Minato?” Akihiko eventually called out from behind his door, as he knew he would. Minato didn’t say anything in response—he knew it wouldn’t matter what he said. “C-Can we talk?” He clenched his fist around his blanket, mumbling something entirely incoherent as he braced himself for the inevitable. “Minato?” He asked again, as he wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks. Akihiko was going to be coming in soon, and he didn’t want him to see him like this. He was SEES’ leader, for god’s sake—He was supposed be be strong. And maybe if he could show that he was strong, that he didn’t need Akihiko’s help, then he wouldn’t risk his life trying to protect him. 

Minato shook his head. Akihiko had jumped in front of Shadow’s attacks for Mitsuru, Shinjiro, and Aigis. It didn’t have anything to do with how strong someone was—it was how much he mattered to them. 

His door creaked open with agonizing slowness. He could clearly picture the concerned expression on Akihiko’s face, and he hated it. 

“Minato?” Stop saying my name. When did he even start calling him Minato instead of Arisato in the first place? Oh, well. Not that it mattered. “Minato, I—If you’re upset I understand, but—” If he was upset. Akihiko cared more about him potentially being disappointed that he was his soulmate than he did about Minato hiding his soul mark from him, yelling at him, and then running away. He was so sweet. 

“Tomorrow,” he mumbled, forcing his voice to be louder than he wanted just so he could be heard through the fabric of the blanket. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” If he could just wait a day, just twenty four hours, there wouldn't be any issues. He would get to enjoy being flustered and happy and, if everything went as he hoped and they weren’t strictly platonic soulmates, he’d finally get to live out those cheesy romantic fantasies that tended to drift through his mind when thinking about Akihiko for a little too long.   

If he could manage to push this back for just one day. 

“But tomorrow is—” 

“After the battle.” Minato cut him off before he could finish. “We’ll talk after the battle.” He felt guilty for leaving Akihiko in the dark like this, especially considering he was apparently under the assumption that Minato didn’t want to be his soulmate, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this unless he was forceful about it. Akihiko didn’t respond for a moment, and Minato briefly wondered if he had turned around and left, before the sound of growing footsteps made him turn around. 

“If we wait until then, it’ll just weigh on your mind.” He kneeled down next to Minato’s bed, his concerned gaze piercing right through his soul. His sleeves were rolled up enough so that he could see his full soul mark, and he felt his heart drop. How painfully ironic was it that Minato’s marking represented something that held significant meaning to him, and that Akihiko’s represented the type of attack he used in battle. Only further solidifying his fate, he supposed. “It’ll be dangerous to hold onto something like this for that long; it’ll distract us both.” Minato wished he could disagree with him, but he knew he was right. He was decent enough in combat not to let his fears affect him too severely, but with both him and Akihiko fighting with this conversation looming over their heads, those slight disadvantages could really add up. 

But, then again, if they had this conversation now, the chances of Akihiko unnecessarily risking his life in tomorrow’s battle would increase tenfold. So, really, they were screwed either way. 

“Come on, Minato,” he pleaded, eyes growing wider with concern. He reached out to grab one of Minato’s hands, and he immediately shook off the grasp on impulse. “I can handle whatever it is you’re going to say. I’m sure you would have rather been with one of the girls, but…”

“No.” Minato hadn’t wanted to speak at all, hadn’t wanted to say anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary, but Akihiko didn’t deserve to think that he was acting this way because he was disappointed. He didn’t deserve to believe that Minato would have wanted to be with anyone else, didn’t deserve to think that he was acting avoidant for any reason other than to protect Akihiko from himself. 

“N-No?” He asked, confused. “What do you mean ‘no?’” He scooted a few feet backwards, retracting his hand. Minato then realized that he had probably interpreted what he had said as telling Akihiko that he was uncomfortable being touched by him. Whoops. He took a deep breath in and out, sitting up and forcing himself to make eye contact with Akihiko. His eyes were still bursting with concern, but worse than that, Minato detected a certain sadness within them that hadn’t been there back in the lounge. He felt his heart drop lower and lower into his chest, as if there was an anchor attached to it. 

“I want you to be my soulmate,” he spat out, unable to bear seeing Akihiko look like this for a single moment longer. He wished he could elaborate a bit further, but apparently that had been the extent of his bravery. He caught his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to ground himself back to reality. He had hoped that his confession would have provided some amount of relief, but it only served to make him more anxious. Now that he had gotten that off his chest, Akihiko was closer to finding out the real reason he had been so apprehensive, and Minato sincerely doubted that conversation was going to go smoothly. 

“You… do?” Akihiko’s eyes lit up, and Minato felt some of the weight lift off of his heart. Of course I do. Why would you ever think I wouldn’t? But, of course, nothing good ever lasted long, and everything came crashing right back down onto him. “You don’t have to lie, you know.” Akihiko chuckled to himself, as if this was anything to laugh about. It was obvious to Minato that it was just a way to deflect his true feelings—as if the way he dejectedly glanced down at the floor wasn’t enough to prove that—and somehow, it hurt more than if he had begun to openly weep. “I promise I won't be hurt. You can be honest with me.” Stop it. “We can pretend this never happened, if you want.” Stop it. “I’ve—I’ve heard of people getting special tattoos to cover up their soulmarks, if that would help you feel better.” Stop. It. “I’m sure the chairman has enough connections to help us find someone who knows how to properly cover them up. It’ll probably be expensive, but…” Akihiko trailed off, making eye contact for only a split second before retreating back to the ground. He smiled somberly, his eyes watering ever-so-slightly as he tugged at the ends of his sleeve. “As long as it makes you feel more comfortable.” Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up sh—

“Stop it!” Minato cried out, his mouth running before his brain could take over and tell him to shut up. Even if he had been thinking rationally, though, he didn’t think he would have stopped himself regardless. 

He couldn’t handle another word, couldn’t take a second more of this. Akihiko was on the verge of tears, for fuck’s sake, and it was all objectively 100% his fault. He couldn’t take that kind of weight on his heart. Akihiko didn’t deserve this. He deserved to know the truth, as much as Minato didn’t want it to leave the confines of his mind. “I—I don’t—” He stumbled out, grasping desperately for a way to even begin to explain everything weighing on his mind. The words escaped him, though, and he found himself nearly crying with frustration. 

“It’s okay,” Akihiko reassured him, and though he seemed a bit confused, Minato could tell his words were genuine. How sweet of him, comforting him even now. Even after all Minato had done in the past few minutes was run away from and yell at him. Did he even deserve Akihiko as his soulmate? Minato wasn’t sure he did. “Take your time.” Akihiko hovered his hand back above Minato’s, silently asking for permission. Minato grabbed onto his hand as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling into a thousand foot abyss. “I’ll be here.”

“I’m sorry,” he managed after a while, wanting to rip his hair out from the frustration of not being able to properly communicate a single thing he was feeling right now. He felt an apology was necessary, but not now—Right now, he just needed to actually explain what was happening to poor Akihiko, who looked just as confused as he did worried. “I… I’m happy that you’re my soulmate. Really happy.” Minato took a deep breath. He’d done it. That wasn't the hard part, but still, he’d done it. He found himself smiling ever-so slightly despite himself, forcefully pushing aside all of his worries for just a split second as he watched Akihiko’s face light up once again. He interlocked their fingers together and gripped onto his hand even tighter, using his entire heart and soul to communicate that, yes, he was telling the truth. That, even though his previous actions seemed to contradict it, he loved Akihiko more than anyone and anything. 

That his love was the reason he’d acted so strangely in the first place. 

The smile that tugged at Akihiko’s lips was truly criminal. It was brighter than Minato had ever seen it, his eyes shimmering with the same intensity. It seemed he truly believed him this time, and Minato let out a sigh of relief as he mirrored Akihiko’s expression. He looked so overwhelmingly beautiful like this, like a glowing blue butterfly or a warm purple sunset. Like the feeling of listening to his favorite song on a rainy day, hearing the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside his window over the music in his headphones. He was the sun, moon, and stars all at once, and Minato’s head swirled as he tried to process it all. He felt his equipped Persona—Titania, he managed to remember through his hazy thoughts—thrumming inside his heart, making it beat faster and faster with every elapsed second. In the back of his mind he felt annoyed that she had only decided to assist in this and not when he had felt the weight of an anchor pulling him down into the pits of Hell, but he supposed that wasn’t the job of the Lovers. ‘Attraction, love, and beauty,’ he’d remembered Igor telling him as he described the traits of the arcana. And looking at Akihiko, he could see exactly why Titania was reacting the way she was. 

“I—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.” Akihiko’s words tore through Minato’s daydream, simultaneously reminding him that Akihiko really was smiling at him like that, and that he had just been staring at him like a lovestruck idiot for almost a minute straight. He reached to hide his face in his blanket once more, suddenly becoming aware of the way his face was burning with the heat of the sun itself, but the second his hands touched the fabric, he realized that doing so would only make him look more flustered. “It, um, looks nice on you?” Akihiko sounded unsure of himself, but not of his compliment. Minato may have just been reading him wrong, as he often tended to when people’s emotions were anything beyond surface level, but it seemed that he was still trying to make sure that he wasn’t pushing any boundaries. That was fair, considering they hadn’t actually discussed anything about this beyond staring at each other like lovestruck dumbasses, but Minato felt his heart sink a bit as he wondered if he was doing this because of his earlier actions. His earlier actions that he hadn’t actually explained yet, he remembered, but he was still in too much of a daze to allow himself to focus on that right now. Maybe it was selfish of him; he didn’t care. He just needed five minutes. Just five minutes of being able to enjoy this moment before it would be taken from him forever. 

Just five minutes. He’d tell him in five minutes. 

“Thanks,” he managed, still feeling Titania fluttering her wings around his heart. She made it even more difficult for Minato to speak, but he pushed through. “You—You have a nice smile too.” He realized that mirroring his compliment didn’t sound as heartfelt, though, so he racked his brain for something else that he could praise about Akihiko. It wasn’t thinking of a compliment that was the hard part;—Minato could sit here for hours just listing off every single trait of his that made his heart feel like it was going to implode in on itself—his difficulty came in finding something he actually had the courage to say aloud, especially when he wasn’t even entirely sure of Akihiko’s own feelings. “It, um, shows off your freckles,” he decided after a few seconds of frantic thought, though as soon as he finished speaking, the pure embarrassment of his statement set in. Seriously? It shows off his freckles? That didn’t even make sense! Minato squeezed on Akihiko’s hand, though not in a soft, loving way like he had before. He felt his face grow warmer as he attempted to cover it up with his free hand, though he doubted he was actually hiding much. 

“O-Oh…” But, thankfully, Akihiko looked just as embarrassed as he was. Minato peeked through his hand to get a better look at him, and he was so beautiful like this that he almost felt sick to his stomach. Most people seemed to have this strange consensus that Akihiko was this super strong, cool, confident macho man that knew exactly what to say to make girls fall head over heels for him, and while Minato had known that wasn’t completely true since the first month he’d gotten to know him, there was still something strangely amusing about seeing someone so supposedly calm and collected stumble over his words and blush brighter than the sun itself. Maybe it was petty for him to think about, but that was something he had over the fangirls that seemed to crowd around Akihiko like moths to a flame. They had never seen him ramble about boxing techniques, they had never seen the way he miserably failed to pick up girls at Yakushima, they had certainly never seen the way he was looking at Minato right now, his lips slightly parted in shock as he looked up at him with so much admiration that Minato worried his heart was going to turn inside out from the stress it was under. “I guess you’re really not lying, then,” he laughed softly, nervously. Akihiko had always had a nice laugh, but hearing him sound so shy made it even cuter. Minato hoped he would be able to get the same sound out of him again and again, like a record playing on loop for all eternity. 

For all eternity. Those words swarmed Minato’s mind like a mantra, causing him to fall straight down from cloud nine. For all eternity. As if they would even live past tomorrow. 

Minato hoped to shake those thoughts away for just a minute longer. But Akihiko had either noticed his sudden shift in expression, or his own worried curiosity finally got the better of him. 

“So, um, if you… feel the same way,” A distant thought in the back of Minato’s mind wondered if that was a confession. A louder, more powerful voice yelled at him that his next words were going to be far more important, so he shouldn’t waste time thinking shout it. Minato braced himself for what he knew Akihiko would say. “Then why did you…?” Minato’s hand unintentionally clenched tighter around Akihiko’s, digging his nails into the back of it before pulling it away. I’ll tell you later, he tried to force out, already missing the warmth that Akihiko’s grasp brought him, but his brain and his mouth weren’t cooperating with each other well enough to actually communicate that. Instead, he only managed a quiet hum of indistinct emotion, which, of course, only made Akihiko more confused. “Were you just nervous?” He asked, that horrible worriedness creeping back up into his voice. Minato’s eyes brightened slightly, seeing an opportunity in his words. 

He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t particularly like lying in general, preferring to skirt around any difficult questions with technicalities or half-truths, and he especially hated lying to Akihiko, his soulmate, but as much as he disliked lying, he hated the idea of having to confess his true fears to Akihiko even more. There was a part of him that wondered if by being vulnerable and expressing his fears, Akihiko would understand him and not throw himself in front of every one of the Shadow’s blows to protect him, but Minato knew that thought was nothing more than a wishful daydream. In fact, bringing up Akihiko’s reckless, savior-like tendencies would only remind him of them, and cause him to be more stupidly protective. Besides, they would most likely get into an argument like they always did every time one of them hypocritically brought up the other’s recklessness, which was something he really didn’t want to deal with, especially today. Obvious reasons aside, he was pretty sure that having any negative interactions with your soulmate on the first day of finding them was some kind of superstitious omen that something would happen to break your relationship apart, at least according to what Hamuko had told him when they were little. 

Though, he supposed that ship had already sailed. He was pretty sure that yelling at and running away from your soulmate definitely counted as a ‘negative interaction.’

“Yeah, just nervous,” Minato managed after a suspiciously long pause. He forced himself to maintain eye contact with Akihiko to keep his façade up, as much as it pained him to do so after lying through his teeth. “I was just worried you wouldn’t feel the same.” That part wasn’t technically a lie. He had been worried about Akihiko not feeling the same way that he did, or being disappointed that Minato was his soulmate, but it was buried under so many layers of other fears that he’d hardly taken notice to it. “Sorry.” Akihiko didn’t say anything for a moment, squinting his eyes a bit as he stared straight into Minato’s soul, but eventually his gaze relaxed. 

“Okay, good.” Akihiko smiled again, but it didn’t make him feel the same way it had before. He was only smiling because Minato had lied to him, and even if he looked just as beautiful as he did before, it only made Minato feel guilt as opposed to anything positive. He felt Titania attempt to jab the ends of her wings into his heart, causing him to wince. “You had me worried,” he chuckled lightly. “I thought I had done something wrong, or that it was something more serious.” Minato bit his lip. Technically he hadn’t lied. Technically he had been worried that Akihiko wouldn’t feel the same way. Technically, technically, technically— “S-So, just so we’re clear, is this, um…” he trailed off, cocking his head to the side slightly. Please, no. “Minato?” He asked, eyes shimmering with concern. 

Goddamnit. He bit his lip harder, which only served to make Akihiko more suspicious. 

“‘M fine,” he managed with a smile he plastered on, still managing to force himself to maintain eye contact as much as it hurt. He knew Akihiko wasn’t the greatest at recognizing people’s emotions, similarly to how Minato himself was, so he hoped that if he kept up the illusion for long enough, Akihiko would believe him and go back to whatever it was he was about to say. 

Unfortunately, though, he seemed to have a miraculous ability to read Minato’s emotions specifically. He couldn’t tell when a girl was flirting with him or when someone was gently trying to get him to stop rambling about a certain subject, but he could tell when Minato was lying about being fine, because of course he could. He hoped that was some kind of hidden ability that certain sets of soulmates had with each other, just to make it less embarrassing that Akihiko could see through him so effortlessly. 

“Are you sure?” He finally stood up from the rug he was kneeled on and sat down next to Minato on the bed. The closeness between them was suffocating, but not in the warm, fuzzy way it usually was. Stop asking. I’m fine. “If something’s going on, you can tell me.” He gently brushed his hand against Minato’s wrist, tracing over the patterns of his markings with featherlight touches. ‘I’m your soulmate. You can tell me anything,’ he said wordlessly through his fingers, his eyes drifting between Minato’s markings and his eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” he lied, and this time, he couldn’t even excuse it by saying that it was a half truth. It was the exact opposite of ‘nothing,’ and with the way his voice trembled ever so slightly as he spoke, he knew that Akihiko knew that just as well as he did. 

“No, it’s not.” Akihiko sighed with some mix of frustration and worry. Minato clenched the fist of his free hand. Why was he frustrated? It wasn’t like he had asked for help and then dodged actually elaborating—he was making it as clear as day that he didn’t want to talk about it. But, then again, this was Akihiko he was talking to. Minato had never met someone with as much persistence as Akihiko did. 

He remembered Igor telling him in passing that Akihiko was representative of both the Emperor and Star arcanas. ‘A powerful, grounded protector,’ and ‘a sense of hope and profound positivity.’ Two sides of the same coin that drove Minato up the wall. 

“Please just tell me what’s bothering you, Minato,” he pleaded, pulling his hand back slowly. “Like I said, it'll just weigh on your mind if you hold onto this until after the battle.” No, actually, waiting until after the battle was perfect. Either his worries would completely disappear if they were both actually alive to have the conversation, or—

Minato shook his head. He really didn’t want to think about the other possible outcome. 

But regardless, there was no point in talking about this right now. It would just make them both uncomfortable, make them both start trying to hypocritically justify their recklessness, and make them have a fight on their first and possibly last day being soulmates. What good could possibly come out of that? 

“…Are you worried about tomorrow?” He asked, because once Akihiko was set on something, he didn’t know when to back down and give up. Minato’s breath caught in his throat, but he nodded. Hopefully Akihiko would accept this as an answer, and finally leave him alone about this. He just wanted to go back to a few minutes ago, when he had allowed himself to forget everything in the world except for Akihiko’s smile. He just wanted to have Akihiko hold him in his arms, just wanted to finally find out what it would feel like to kiss him, just wanted to pretend for a moment that they were normal high school students whose biggest issue in the world was how they were going to decorate for their soulmate party. 

Just wanted to enjoy Akihiko’s presence for what would quite possibly be the last time. 

“Yeah.” He tried harder than he’d ever tried at anything just to force his voice to sound natural. Please, for the love of god, let Akihiko just believe him this time without asking a million follow-up questions. “I know we’ll win, but… I’m still worried.” For once, that wasn’t a lie, nor was it a technical half-truth, and even though it wasn't the full extent of what was weighing on his mind, it was a partial weight off of his heart. He did know that they would win, but the real question was whether or not all of them would win. They had won on October 4th, hadn’t they? Even though Akihiko and Ken’s screams still reverberated through his mind from time to time, they had won, and that was terrifying. He knew Akihiko would do anything to make sure that SEES won, do anything to avenge Shinjiro, do anything to protect his friends, do anything to protect his soulmate. It was unlikely that they would lose to Strega and whatever final Shadow awaited them, but it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that they would lose another person in the battle just as they had last month. 

Minato hoped it would be himself, if that fate was set in stone. 

“Ah.” Akihiko took a deep breath in and out, finally looking away from Minato as he glanced out of the window. The bright green moon was still shining through, a single sliver away from being full. As if he needed any more reminders. “I was afraid you might be. After all, it’s…” Akihiko trailed off, and Minato silently begged him not to finish. He didn’t, thankfully, instead just shaking his head and turning back to face him. “But we’ll be okay.” It was a vague, almost empty gesture, but Minato still appreciated it. It was simple, but hearing that from another person helped calm him down and get out of his own head just a bit. “And I’ll protect you.” No. No, not this. Please, please not this. “I won’t let anything happen to anyone else, no matter what. Especially not…” he trailed off briefly. Minato roughly tugged on the ends of his hair, as if that would somehow do something to stop him. “Especially not to my soulmate.” He smiled with confidence and determination, fully confirming Minato’s fear that he would do absolutely anything to protect him. 

No matter what. No matter what. No matter what. 

The words repeated over and over again in Minato’s mind, causing him to cover his ears as if the sound was external and not tormenting him from inside his own mind. 

No matter what. No matter what. No matter what. 

He would stop at nothing. Absolutely nothing. Akihiko was going to die tomorrow, and it was all going to be Minato’s fault for being so reckless and stupid. He knew this was going to happen if he showed Akihiko his soulmark, so why had he risked sitting down next to him in the lobby in the first place? Had he secretly wanted this to happen? 

No matter what. No matter what. No matter what. 

There was a hand on his shoulder. It was warm and rough and suffocating. Akihiko was saying something, asking something, but he couldn’t understand him. It was like he was underwater, and Akihiko was calling his name from the surface. 

Especially not my soulmate. 

Akihiko was shaking him now; gently, but with a firm grip on his shoulder. Poor Akihiko. Why would Minato do this to him on his final day alive? He was so selfish. So, so selfish. 

“Minato!?” He finally managed to hear over the sound of the water he was drowning under, but it didn’t snap him back to reality as he’d hoped. He went right back underwater, suffocating and losing all of his ties to the world he was in. Where even was he right now? He couldn’t seem to remember. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Akihiko’s blood was on his hands, soaking deeper and deeper through his skin. Nothing mattered. “Minat—call someo—ou okay—an you hear m—”

I won’t let anything happen to anyone else, no matter what. Especially not to my soulmate. 

And I’ll protect you. 

At that moment, the clock struck twelve once again. Even through the disconnect Minato currently had to the world, he could feel the way the bright lights burned through his retinas, hear the heater in the corner of his room start to whirr to life, see an image pop back up on the computer screen in front of him. And how horrible was it that those were the things that caused him to find his way back to reality, rather than Akihiko shaking him and yelling his name. 

He was in his dorm room, he remembered as he allowed his surroundings to soak in. He was in his dorm room with Akihiko, who was alive and breathing, for now at least. His vision started to clear up a bit, and he could finally see the real world above whatever space inside his head that he’d been trapped in. 

He collapsed into Akihiko’s shoulder, breathing heavily as if he had genuinely been on the verge of drowning. He was crying, he realized as hot tears gently pattered onto Akihiko’s shoulder. He was crying in front of Akihiko, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t like trying to hide it would do anything, anyway—he was pretty sure that seeing him have a panic attack was much more embarrassing than seeing him let out a few tears. 

“Minato…” Akihiko sounded like he was on the verge of tears as well, which only made Minato cry more. How selfish of him, making him worry like this. How hypocritical of him to wordlessly ask for protection like this in the same breath that he internally begged Akihiko not to protect him. He was so hypocritical. So selfish. “Just… just breathe, okay?” He begged, running a shaky hand through Minato’s hair as he sobbed. He sounded unsure, terrified— a horrible sound to hear from someone that was usually so confident. “Can you hear me now?” Minato nodded the best he could in his current position, still not able to say even a simple, ‘yes.’ Akihiko let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Okay, good. Um, since the Dark Hour’s over now, let me to grab you some water…or, uh, do you want something to eat? Or for me to go grab someone? Do—Do you think you need to go to the hospital? I’ve heard they can help with… things like this,” Akihiko spoke frantically, desperately. He was trying so, so hard to help Minato relax and feel comfortable that it made him guilty, wishing he could have had a better grasp on his emotions and prevented this from even happening in the first place. He couldn’t muster up a response for a while, too focused on grounding himself to even begin to worry about speaking, until he felt Akihiko’s hand retract from his hair and the soft squeaking of his bed, and his head shot up. 

“Please don’t leave,” he begged, wiping the tears from his eyes as he stared up at Akihiko. There was pure panic etched across his features, but as much as it pained Minato to look at, he confirmed to make eye contact. Akihiko deserved to know that he was here. That he would be okay, so long as Akihiko didn’t leave him. 

So long as Akihiko didn’t leave him. 

“Okay,” he responded immediately, a slight relief washing over him as a small, near-unnoticeable smile curled on his lips. “Okay, I’ll stay here.” Minato collapsed right back into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on for dear life. 

Usually, he preferred to be alone when panicked or sad or any other range of emotion that couldn’t be described with a simple, ‘fine.’ It wasn’t that he didn’t need other people; it was more so that he didn’t want to need other people. He didn’t want to bother anyone with his feelings, especially when they were so often hard to explain even to himself. Minato couldn’t even remember the last time he had broken down like this in front of another person; it must have been back when Hamuko was still alive, and he had expressed exaggerated sadness or frustration in the way that only a child could get away with without worrying about warping other people's opinions of them. Minato wasn’t going to lie and say that holding Akihiko close like this was making him wish he had been more open with his friends in the past, as that was something that was still deeply ingrained into his mind that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully shake, but it did help him feel much more at ease than if he was alone with his thoughts. He could feel Akihiko’s chest rising and falling, still clearly shaken up, but strangely, Minato didn’t feel guilt in that moment. He focused on the warmth of Akihiko’s body against his hands, the grainy, somewhat uncomfortable texture of his modified uniform, and the sudden feeling of Akihiko’s arms pulling him into a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled for what felt like the thousandth time in the past hour, but Akihiko hardly even let him finish. 

“Don’t apologize,” he comforted, holding Minato in his arms with the same urgency that Minato had clung to him with. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You had me really worried, you know.” Akihiko ran a gentle hand through his hair for just a split second before wrapping it right back around his back. 

“I know.” Minato swallowed, embarrassed. “But thank you.” 

“Any time.” Akihiko took a deep breath in and out, almost as if he sounded conflicted about something. Minato raised an eyebrow. “I’ll—I’ll always be here for you, okay?” He released him from his grasp, pulling back until his face was only mere inches from Minato’s. He seemingly noticed just how close they were, though, and quickly pulled further back with a slight redness on his cheeks. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.” Minato winced, balling up his fist once again. 

You can’t protect me if you can’t protect yourself, he silently begged, the words on the very tip of his tongue begging to be heard. If you really want to protect me, keep yourself safe. You matter more to me than myself. 

He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this unless he just bit the bullet and told him, he realized, as much as he wished he could just keep everything buried in the deepest confines of his mind. Sure, confessing all of this may just lead to an argument and no actual progress, but at this point, he wasn’t sure the situation could get much worse. Akihiko already seemed dead set on protecting him no matter what, even though Minato himself hadn’t said a word about anything of the sort. He would prefer an argument if it at least meant that Akihiko was aware of his wishes, even if he refused to adhere to them. It was better than wanting to dig himself a hole and die there every time Akihiko mentioned protecting him, anyway. 

“…What if I don’t want you to?” He asked, his voice full of a certain confidence that even Minato hadn’t expected to hear from himself. He shook a bit as he spoke, yet he didn’t feel scared or even nervous. He stared into Akihiko’s eyes with determination, as if, somehow, some way, this would all work out in the end. Even if he didn’t believe it, he clung to that small spark of hope bubbling up inside him, refusing to let it slip through his fingers like he’d done so often in the past.

“Huh?” Akihiko tilted his head in confusion, obviously, because Minato hadn’t actually provided any context for what he was saying. Whoops. He took a deep breath in and out, trying to maintain his sudden burst of confidence. 

“What if I don't want you to protect me?” Minato momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. He’d said it. He’d finally, finally said it. It was just the tip of the iceberg, just the tiniest, most basic thing he could have confessed, but it was still out there, and that was what mattered. He observed Akihiko’s expression intently, watching for any and all signs of emotion. A look of confusion fully overtook his features, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at Minato. It seemed he still didn’t understand, then. That was okay; he didn’t expect him to. He swallowed roughly, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. 

“What do you mean?” He asked with full genuinity. Minato waited for him to say something else, perhaps elaborate on his question or even start to talk about something tangentially related as he so often did, but Akihiko remained entirely silent, staring intently at Minato for an answer. 

“Well.” Minato’s confidence began to waver as he scrambled for a way to even begin to word the horrible, gut-wrenching feelings he associated with the idea of Akihiko protecting him. He hadn’t expected these feelings to ever leave his mind, so he didn’t have the slightest idea on how to express them verbally. He didn’t know how to express any of his feelings verbally, actually, which made this even more impossibly difficult. He was fighting an uphill battle, and all he had to do was say the exact same things he’d been thinking about all night. He reached for Akihiko’s hand as he thought, and interlocked his fingers. Thank you for listening, he said wordlessly, squeezing his palm. I’m sorry to take up so much of your time. “How—How would you feel if someone you care about got hurt while protecting you?” That was a watered down version of the thought that had actually entered his mind. ‘How would you feel if me or Shinjiro died while protecting you,’ was what he had actually wanted to ask, but decided to sugarcoat it a bit for Akihiko’s sake. He didn’t need to bring up something that horrible just to prove a point. Akihiko had dealt with enough shit from him tonight—he didn’t need to guilt-trip him too. 

“I can handle myself. No one would need to protect me.” Minato slowly blinked at him. That very much did not answer his question, and judging by the confidence etched across his features, he didn’t really understand what Minato was trying to tell him. 

“Are you saying that I can’t handle myself, then?” Akihiko’s expression immediately changed, his lips parting and his face growing pale. Minato knew that wasn't what Akihiko thought about him, what with the dozens upon dozens of compliments he’d given him on his leadership and battle abilities over the past months, but he didn’t know any other way to get him to understand what he was feeling. Maybe, just maybe if he could remind him that he could hold his own in battle just fine, he would agree to back off and let him handle himself. 

Then again, this was the same guy who had decided to protect the Shadow-annihilation robot from an incoming blow. So he really didn’t have much hope when it came to that plan. 

“What? That's not what I’m saying at all.” Akihiko squeezed his hand, looking at him with some mix of pity and confusion. Minato squeezed back. “I know you’re strong enough to fight by yourself, but even strong people can make mistakes. That’s why I want to protect everyone.” His voice lowered down to a gentle, intimate whisper, releasing his hand from Minato’s in order to trace around the outline of his soulmark. “To protect you.” For a moment, Minato was too wrapped up in the warm feeling bubbling within his chest to even begin to unpack what Akihiko had just said. For a moment, just a single, passing second, he dropped the connotations he had associated with Akihiko’s protective nature. Hehe, he wants to protect me. He wants to protect everyone, but he wants to protect me specifically. He must really love me. 

It didn’t take long for his brain to catch up with his heart. He took a deep breath and focused on the soft touch of Akihiko’s fingers against his wrist. 

“You say that as if you can’t also make mistakes.” Akihiko clearly didn’t expect that response, his fingers immediately freezing in place as his eyes widened.

“Well, you may be right.” Finally, he was starting to get it. Akihiko’s brows furrowed in thought, then, a moment later widened with some sort of negative expression that Minato couldn’t quite place his finger on. “But I’m the best at hand-to-hand combat out of all of us. So I think that makes me reliable enough to watch over everyone.” His voice was slightly wavery as he spoke, which made Minato raise an eyebrow. He was always so confident when it came to talking about his physical strength, so why did he sound so unsure about it now? Was there something he wasn’t telling him?

“Physical strength doesn’t always help with Shadows,” he tried to argue, though he knew this would be an uphill battle.  

“Well, neither does your magic.” Seriously?

“My magic is way more versatile than your fists are.”

“You can only cast so many spells until you run out of energy.” 

“You can only throw so many punches until you run out of energy.”

“Caesar has electric skills. I always cast those if I start to feel tired physically.”

“And I can use my sword when I feel tired mentally.”

They went on and on like this for way longer than Minato would have liked. Every argument he made, every inconsistency he brought up, Akihiko had an excuse for. It felt like he was five years old again, bickering back and forth with Hamuko which Featherman characters could beat each other in a fight. Only this was a thousand times more infuriating, and involved the life and death of actual people. People that he loved and cared about. People that were himself and his soulmate that he loved more than he could properly put into words. 

“…Well Caesar always blocks electric attacks. Most of the Personas you use tend to be weak to them.” Finally, Minato couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Okay, okay, fine!” He blurted out in half-annoyance half-defeat. “Let’s just say we have the same level of strength. It doesn’t matter.” Akihiko’s brow furrowed slightly, a conflicted look etching across his features. What was it now? He braced himself for the worst. 

“…I don’t think I’m quite as strong as you are, though.” 

…

Minato couldn’t hide the equal amounts of confusion and frustration in his voice. 

“What.” 

He had just spent five minutes arguing with him over who was stronger; the hell did he mean that he wasn’t as strong as Minato was? If he truly believed that Minato was the stronger of the two—something that Minato himself wasn’t sure he agreed with—then what was the point of arguing with him about it? Shouldn’t he just have agreed with Minato that he could protect himself? Or was it just an insincere compliment? 

It couldn’t have been the latter. There was a certain fondness in his voice as he said it that made Minato’s heart do backflips in his chest. Not a hint of jealousy or bitterness; just fondness and determination. Minato smiled ever so slightly. 

“Why are you confused?” Akihiko asked him, as if his past two statements hadn’t completely contradicted each other. “I just don’t think I can quite match your strength yet. But you said that isn’t important, so what were you going to say?” Minato really, really wanted an excuse to not have to get to his main point yet, so he decided to push further.

“If you think I’m stronger than you, why did you just start an argument about which one of us is stronger?” Stalling aside, Minato had to admit that he was curious about this. He knew that strength was one of the most important things to Akihiko—even if he did have an underlying theory that it was only a front—so him saying so assuredly that Minato was the stronger of the two was appreciated, but strange, especially after he had gone to such lengths to argue about all of the ways his abilities were better than Minato’s in combat. He waited for Akihiko to answer, staring into his eyes with anticipation, until he finally spoke up. 

“Technically , you started it.” It took a lot of effort for Minato to restrain himself from pushing Akihiko off of the bed. “But I never said I was stronger than you or anyone. I only said that I’m strong enough to watch over and keep you all safe.” Oh. He supposed that made sense, even if that whole argument now seemed even more unnecessary than it already was. “I’m still not quite at your level yet, Minato. The way you fight is incredible; I’ve never seen anything like it.” Akihiko stretched his arms, his eyes twinkling with adoration as his lips curled into a smile. “I’ll be able to match you one day, though. Just wait and see.” Minato found himself mirroring Akihiko’s expression as he so often did. His smile was more infectious than any illness, and as stupid as Minato was sure he looked right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. As warm as he felt inside from both the compliment and Akihiko’s smiling face, there was still something bothering him about the entire situation. He debated whether or not to even bring it up, seeing as how they had finally made their way back to a normal, happy conversation, but he couldn’t quite get it out of his mind. It would help him segue back to his main concern, too, though whether or not that was a good thing would remain to be seen.

“If you think I’m so strong, why do you need to protect me?” Akihiko very obviously did not expect to be asked a question like that. Minato couldn’t quite read the face he made as he finished speaking, but it certainly wasn’t anything good. His eyes widened, his mouth fell agape, his brows furrowed, and, finally, he turned away. It looked like he was finally getting somewhere with this, but at what cost? 

“…Well, it’s not about strength,” he finally answered, still not looking anywhere near Minato. His fists were balled up at his sides, he noted, and Minato inched just a bit closer to him. He wanted to provide Akihiko comfort as he continued to question him, wanted him to know that he was only doing this because of how much he cared about him. 

“If it’s not about strength, then what is it?” Akihiko whipped his head around, his eyes now burning with an emotion that Minato still couldn’t place a name to. 

“That doesn’t matter.” It was clear that he was struggling to maintain his composure, every word spoken with the same sharpness as a blade. Minato tugged on his sleeve. He knew what he needed to do, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to do it. “I told you that everyone can make mistakes, no matter how strong they are.” His voice lowered down to something quieter, softer. There was still an unmistakable edge of seriousness in his tone, though, and Minato let every word linger in his mind. “You may be better in battle than I am, but I’ve seen the way you fight. You’re reckless, Minato.” Minato physically bit his tongue to prevent himself from snapping. He was reckless? He wasn’t going to lie and say that he wasn’t, but that was insane to hear from Akihiko of all people. It was something that always annoyed him to hear, but especially right now, especially when there was a very real chance that one of them could die tomorrow, he couldn’t stand hearing Akihiko fail to acknowledge his own reckless behavior in battle anymore. 

“Lift up your sleeves,” he ordered, voice wavering. 

“Huh?”

“Just—Just lift up your sleeves.” Akihiko gave him a confused glance, but ultimately agreed. He pulled up the sleeves on both sides of his arms, revealing the dozens upon dozens of battle scars that littered them. Minato felt his heart sink into his stomach even deeper than it usually did upon seeing all of them. He hardly seemed to acknowledge them, either, which was the part that hurt the most. Did he realize how horrifying that was? That he had gotten injured to the point of having dozens of scars that none of their healing spells could properly remove? Or did he just not care, because it wasn’t one of his loved ones that was hurting? 

Minato swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Maybe he and Akihiko were more similar than he’d thought. 

“Okay, I lifted my sleeves. Now what?” He still didn’t realize? Or was he just playing dumb? Minato’s eyes traced the outlines of all of his scars, and though he didn’t particularly like to look at them, he found that he couldn’t quite look away. “What, did you just want to look at my arms?” Akihiko smiled, clearly nervous. It looked like he had caught on to what he was planning here, but he was still trying to brush it off. Minato didn’t smile back this time. 

“No.” He shook his head. He had a feeling that he would have been smiling and laughing and blushing and all of the other embarrassing things he did when Akihiko so much as breathed in his direction had he had said that at any other moment, but right now, he could only focus on making him realize his hypocrisy. “You call me reckless, but look at yourself.” Akihiko’s smile faded even before Minato finished speaking. He reached to pull his sleeves back up, but Minato stopped him. 

“I remember when you got that one.” He pointed at a specific scar on Akihiko’s elbow, almost looking like a wound from the claws of a tiger. “You jumped in front of a Brave Blade for me. I had equipped a Persona that resisted slash attacks. I wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” The image of Akihiko shoving him aside and getting attacked replayed over and over again in his mind. Mitsuru had urged them all to go home after that to make sure Akihiko didn’t strain himself, but she eventually had to settle for leaving him at the Tartarus entrance because of how much he insisted he was fine. He had even asked Minato to keep him in the party for the rest of that Tartarus outing. And apologized for getting injured. 

“You were exhausted, Minato,” he defended, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You looked seconds away from collapsing. I was pretty sure that you had something that would resist its effects a bit, but I didn’t want to risk anything happening to you.” Minato clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm. As much as he hated to think about or admit it, Akihiko was right. Just as clearly as he remembered Akihiko pushing him out of the range of the Shadow, he remembered the pure exhaustion flooding through him that night. He hadn’t slept at all the day prior, staying up late to work on a project for the fashion club, find recipes for Fuuka, and talk to that weird girl in Innocent Sin Online simultaneously, but the idea of staying home from a Tartarus outing was completely out of the question. He was a leader, and leaders were always supposed to be available when people needed them. And everyone suddenly decided that they wanted to go that night, so who was he to make them cancel it over something as selfish as feeling a little tired? Leaders were supposed to be able to deal with something like that. 

“I even asked you if you wanted to stay back that night.” Minato dug his nails deeper into his skin. Yeah, he had. He still remembered the warmth he’d felt spreading throughout him as Akihiko confronted him, a hand on his shoulder and a concerned expression in his eyes. “And you said you were fine.” Akihiko’s frustration slowly morphed into regret with every word he spoke, sighing as he balled his hand into a fist. “I knew you weren’t, but I decided to trust you. I shouldn’t have let you go.” His eyes bored into his, his expression deadly serious. “You could have died, Minato.” His voice reverberated through the room with terrifying intensity. It echoed off of the walls and stabbed straight through Minato’s chest, his vision growing blurry for a moment. He recognized that voice well, as desperately as he tried to pretend that he didn’t. 

“Why the drugs?” Akihiko had nearly yelled, grabbing Shinjiro's shoulder and bringing him closer. Minato had been walking home from fuck-knows-where, and had overheard his Senpais arguing with each other. He’d stopped dead in his tracks, Akihiko’s words playing endlessly in his head. “Why didn’t you come talk to me?”

It was the exact same tone he was using now. Angry, to cover up the reality that he was terrified. And it was that tone that made Minato realize the truth that he should have known from the very start. 

Akihiko had the exact same fear that Minato did. Constantly overworking himself, his tendency to care about others much more than himself, the seriousness at which he talked about Minato’s recklessness all while ignoring the hypocrisy of it all—they were all traits that the two of them shared. And staring into Akihiko’s eyes as he spoke, a single tear welling in his eyes, Minato knew he’d seen that face before. It was the same exact one he’d used when yelling at Shinjiro that day, with the same intensity and everything. And, the more he thought about it, the more it set in. 

His parents. Miki. Shinjiro. 

He had the same mentality that Minato did—he had to. And he was an idiot for not realizing it earlier. 

“Minato?” He called out after almost a minute of silence, voice lowered down to a soft, more comforting tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Akihiko placed an arm on his shoulder, and it didn’t feel suffocating this time. It felt warm, like the sun had finally risen and pushed the darkness out of the sky. “It’s just… I need you to understand what kind of consequences stuff like that can have. I can’t—” He cut himself off, correcting himself almost instantaneously. But Minato picked up on it, and filled in the blanks in his head. “I don’t want you getting hurt, okay?” 

“You don’t want to lose anyone else, right?” Perhaps that was a bit too straightforward, but Minato didn’t want to waste time coming up with a way to beat around the bush. Akihiko’s eyes widened, his hand tightening against his shirt before abruptly pulling away. Seems he’d hit the nail right on the head. “Miki and Aragaki-senpai. It’s about them, isn’t it?” 

“Wh—” Akihiko looked at him for a split second before retreating his gaze to the floor. There was a certain pain etched across his features, and Minato felt his heart sink a bit just looking at him. He didn’t want to make him feel like this, but he knew it was necessary. Otherwise, they would never get anywhere with this, and Akihiko would get himself seriously injured or worse trying to protect him tomorrow. “What do you mean?” He didn’t deny it, Minato noted. He had already known that he was right, but this solidified it even further.

“The reason you’re so protective over everyone even when you don’t need to be. It’s because of them, isn’t it?” Akihiko physically flinched, as if Minato had stabbed him straight through the heart with his sword. He tried his best to ignore it, but couldn’t help sneaking compulsive glances at him every now and again. “It’s okay,” he tried to comfort, though he wasn’t sure his tone came across as such. “Me too.” This time, it was his turn to place a hand on Akihiko’s shoulder. He turned to face him immediately, the expression of pain now partially subsided as a look of surprise overtook it. 

“Huh?” Akihiko asked, leaning in to his touch, whether intentional or not. “Minato, you don’t have to—”

“I’m the same way.” Admitting it made Minato feel so, so much more vulnerable than he ever wanted to, but strangely enough, he didn’t feel the sudden urge to take everything back and isolate himself that always creeped up on him whenever he shared too much. Maybe it was because it was Akihiko he was talking to, and he knew that he had no reason to be scared of talking to someone so full of love and kindness, or maybe it was the less attractive reason that he was so sick of being scared that he didn’t have the energy to bother with it anymore. It didn’t matter what the reason was. What mattered was that he was actually doing this, and, for once, he didn’t feel like his insides were being ripped out. 

“You… lost your sister too, didn’t you?” Akihiko spoke cautiously, as if each word could be used against him if he wasn’t careful enough. Minato felt his entire body grow warm with a dull yet agonizing ache. 

He didn’t like to talk about Hamuko. With every word he spoke of her, he relieved a second of the accident in his mind. Every word, every sentence was a reminder of what he would never have. Of what she would never have. 

He envied Akihiko’s ability to mention Miki in casual conversation. If you didn’t listen carefully, it almost sounded as if she was alive and well. ‘These used to be Miki’s favorite,’ he’d say while idly chewing on a candy bar he’d found in the back of the cabinet. ‘I never liked them much, though. I’ve always preferred dark chocolate.’ And then he’d move on as if he hadn’t said anything at all. 

But Minato could hear the pain behind his words. He wasn’t sure if it was because he shared the same pain, or if it was because Akihiko was generally fairly easy to read. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. It was a different type of pain every time, at least from what Minato could tell. Sometimes it was regret, sometimes anger, but most of the time, it was just general sadness. He still fought through the pain, though, just to keep Miki’s memory alive. That was more than Minato could say for himself—he wasn’t sure he had even mentioned her by name to anyone in S.E.E.S. It was horrible of him, wasn’t it? To allow his life to be shaped almost entirely by a person that only existed within the confines of his mind and a single sentence on his legal documents. How pitiful. If Hamuko could see him now, she would be so disappointed. 

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” Akihiko continued after a long pause without a response. “But I read over your file before you moved in, just to see if you were really someone that could have the potential.” Minato didn’t know whether it was amusing or pitiful that his documents tended to reveal more about himself than he did. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. “Her name was Hamuko, right?” Minato nodded—his first response of any kind since Akihiko had begun speaking about her. How on earth he knew her name was beyond him, as he’d never directly mentioned her before. Had he really remembered such an insignificant detail from his file for so long? As impossible as that seemed, Minato had to remember who he was talking to. Of course Akihiko would carry a piece of information like that with him for months on end—just another item to add to the list of wonderful, beautiful things about him. “You don’t talk about her much.” Minato took a deep breath in and out. His hand was still on Akihiko’s shoulder, and he gave it a gentle, almost subconscious squeeze before allowing it to fall back down to his lap. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking outside at the bright shining moon as if that would somehow grant him an escape from having to have this conversation. Just as he was starting to feel comfortable opening up, too. Perfect timing. “I don’t.” Akihiko’s eyes bored into his, shining with sympathy that Minato hated. There was a question clearly on the tip of his tongue— ‘Why?’ —but he bit it back for Minato’s sake. Instead, he continued staring with that sickening sympathy. “…Anyway,” he nearly whispered, desperately trying to get the conversation back on track. There was probably something hypocritical about his insistence in dodging his own issues while demanding that Akihiko deal with his, but, then again, his inability to talk about his sister without feeling as if his organs were being ripped from his body wasn’t going to physically kill him; Akihiko’s insistence on throwing himself at everything dangerous in a desperate attempt not to lose anyone else was going to get him killed in the most painful way imaginable. So it wasn’t quite the same. 

“Don’t, ‘anyway,’ me.” Minato clenched his fist. He was going to, ‘anyway,’ him as much as he wanted, because this wasn't any of his damn business. 

He supposed he had done this to himself by bringing up that he and Akihiko were one and the same, he realized. He had been so relieved at his ability to even spit it out in the first place that he hadn’t thought ahead far enough to realize that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this with the vague words and non-answers he relied so heavily on. Those wouldn’t work on Akihiko. Not when he had to convince him of something as significant as not risking his life for him. 

“I just don’t like to talk about her,” Minato finally managed, and while technically not incorrect, wound up making him feel worse than when he had said nothing at all. It made it sound so, so much less important than it was. Made her sound less important than she was. ‘I don’t like to talk about her,’ was something you said about either someone you didn’t know, or someone you hated with your entire being; Hamuko was the farthest possible thing from either of those. He didn’t like to talk about Hamuko because thinking too hard about her or his parents made him feel like there was someone inside his heart carving shapes into it with a knife. He didn’t like to talk about Hamuko because every thought, every memory, every smile, every joke, every thing was another scar to his heart. He so dearly wished to be able to talk about her the way Akihiko talked about Miki, to be able to reminisce and keep her memory alive, but he had to keep himself alive before all of that. And the human heart is quite a fragile thing. Or, maybe that was just Minato’s. He wasn’t fully sure.

“It reminds me of the accident,” he continued after a long pause. Better, but still not quite what he wanted to express. It wasn’t just the accident that stuck to the forefront of his mind when he thought about his sister—it was the horrid sense of emptiness and despair that he had felt after losing her and their parents. Sometimes, that hurt more than the accident itself. When he found himself feeling particularly negative about anything, whether it was something as silly as forgetting to charge his MP3 player or as serious as the conversation he was currently having, he sometimes found himself paralyzed with the fear that it would spiral into the same emptiness he felt after that accident. He had only been alive in the technical sense; a corpse being strung along by the kind words of the orphanage attendants that he wished he could remember the names of. Realistically, he knew he would never slip back into that level of complete apathy. But the thought still crossed him from time to time, and it was terrifying to think about. 

But that was too much to disclose when Akihiko hadn’t even asked the question verbally. So, ‘It reminds me of the accident,’ would have to do. 

“Ah.” Akihiko gave a half-nod in sympathy. It didn’t hurt as much this time, surprisingly enough. Almost as if his body was acting on its own, Minato leaned in against Akihiko’s shoulder. He was so tired, he realized now that his mind wasn’t running quite as frantically, and while he knew he couldn’t go to sleep just yet, he wanted to rest his head a little. He noticed a slight smile curl on Akihiko’s lips out of the corner of his eye. “Well, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” Akihiko ran another gentle hand through Minato’s hair—a habit he had apparently already picked up in the last hour or so. It was something Minato could really get used to if the both of them got through today unscathed. “But it could help you, I think.” His fingers stopped moving momentarily, and he took a deep sigh in and out. “I used to be the same way. Whenever I thought about Miki I could only think about how I couldn’t save her, so I tried not to think about her at all.” Akihiko fidgeted with his fingers, eyes flickering between Minato and the carpet below them. Though he spoke without hesitation, he could still hear a slight tremble in his voice. He still blames himself, Minato realized before he even noticed he was making assumptions. He still thinks he killed Miki. So that’s why he— “It wasn’t until around the time I joined S.E.E.S that I started to feel more comfortable talking about her, thanks to Shinji and Mitsuru.” He resumed his touch, so gentle that it felt as if he was attempting to pet a feral stray cat, and Minato leaned in appreciatively. It was… hard to imagine that Akihiko ever had any difficulty talking about Miki. He always seemed so eager to bring her up in conversation, even despite the pain Minato noted in his eyes every time he did so. It was hard to imagine, but it helped Minato feel better about his own relationship with his sister. If Akihiko could do it, maybe one day he could. He didn’t imagine it would be any time soon—he had more urgent matters to worry about—but maybe, eventually, he would be able to talk about Hamuko the same way Akihiko spoke about Miki. 

Eventually, Akihiko’s fingers stopped again, and Minato looked up at him expectantly. Was it because he hadn’t responded? Just as he tried to scramble together some form of a verbal reply, Akihiko took another deep breath in and out. “So you understand, right?” He asked, and even if Minato didn’t know what he was referring to, his tone alone already made his heart sink into his chest. 

“What?” He asked, clenching a fist at his side as he looked into Akihiko’s eyes, a mix of pity, sympathy, and general sadness contained within them. “Understand what?” He already knew what he meant from the moment he opened his mouth, but the question escaped him regardless. Akihiko paused, brows furrowing slightly. It seemed that he didn’t want to have to specify. Minato didn’t want him to either.

“…Why I want to protect you so badly.” He looked at the floor, then at Minato, then at the floor again. “You of all people should understand.” Minato took a deep breath.

“And you should understand why I don’t want you to.” His words were quiet, almost lost to the near-silent whirr of the heater in the corner of his room, but even though they were quiet they were said, and that was the important thing. He paused briefly, not wanting to have to elaborate any further, but after a few seconds of silence, he realized he had to. If he didn’t, they would keep going in circles like this until the morning sun was shining through his window, and if this wound up being the last time he ever got to see Akihiko alive and breathing, he really didn’t want to end it all with an argument. “If someone you care about died protecting you, wouldn’t you feel horrible?” Look at Ken. He still thinks it's his fault. But Minato couldn’t say that. Not now. He already hated leveraging Akihiko’s guilt against him, and bringing up Shinjiro right now would only be rubbing salt in the wound he hadn’t wanted to open up in the first place. His words seemed to get through to Akihiko at least a little, his eyes widening in surprise before quickly narrowing in thought, but Minato knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“And if you had the opportunity to save someone you care about, wouldn’t you?” As expected. Minato’s answer was immediate. Yes, of course I would. Especially if it was you. He couldn’t say that, though, because that would involve admitting his hypocrisy and causing his entire argument to burst into flames. “If you love someone, you’ll do anything for them.” Minato’s eyes widened. If you love someone. He let those words repeat in his head a few times, finding comfort in the way they sounded coming from Akihiko’s mouth. Akihiko clenched his fist. “At least that’s how it is for me.” He took a deep breath in and out. Minato instinctively inched closer to him, just enough to make his presence known. Just enough to make sure Akihiko knew that he was there for him. “That’s why I train so hard. Why I even picked up boxing in the first place. If I can’t protect anyone, then it's all been for nothing.” Slowly, almost hesitantly, Akihiko turned to face Minato again. His eyes held a sickening mix of regret and determination, and he could have sworn that he saw a single tear welling up in them. “I’ve already failed twice. Don’t let there be a third.” He placed a shaky hand on Minato’s lap. “Please,” he added quietly. Pleadingly. As if this was something he needed more than food or water. His desperation made Minato’s stomach churn. Either Akihiko didn’t realize how much he was hurting himself, or he didn’t care so long as he could keep Minato safe. He wasn’t quite sure which was worse.

Minato didn’t respond for a while. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to—he absolutely hated leaving Akihiko so frantic and vulnerable without offering anything in the means of comfort—but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t just send them back into the same loop they’d been in for an hour now. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. If he hadn’t managed to convince Akihiko by now, he doubted he would be able to at all. 

A powerful, grounded protector. He sure was living up to that role. 

So, instead of driving right back into that horrible roundabout that seemed to be getting them absolutely nowhere, Minato decided to bring up something else. Something a little more lighthearted. 

“…You love me?” He asked, a slight smile curling on his lips despite everything. He wasn’t completely sure Akihiko had meant it in the way he had hoped, considering the word ‘love’ could mean about five thousand different things in the context he’d used it in, but that didn’t stop Minato from mentioning it. By this point, he was well beyond caring about something so trivial. He already knew that Akihiko felt the same way as him, and he really didn’t have energy to waste worrying about the meaning of a single word when he wasn’t sure that either of them would even be alive after tomorrow. 

“I—!” As expected, that caught Akihiko completely off-guard. His face turned beet red, and his eyes widened to the size of baseballs. He cleared his throat awkwardly, taking a short breath in and out to calm himself. “That’s what you took away from all of that?” Surprisingly enough, there was genuine annoyance in his tone. Minato couldn’t say he blamed him, getting such a self-centered and nitpicky response to something so heartfelt and serious, but he couldn’t bear to keep this argument going any further. He promised he’d give a better response one day, if when this was all over. “I—” Akihiko sputtered out, his face somehow only getting more red. “I think so…?” He sounded hesitant and unsure of himself, which made Minato’s smile falter. He understood why Akihiko was uncertain—they hadn’t even started dating yet, and they hadn’t exactly had very much time to discuss their relationship in the midst of all the panic and worry—but that didn’t stop him from feeling a slight pang of sadness in his heart. Weirdly enough, though, it felt refreshing to feel upset about something trivial like this rather than something that was a matter of life and death. It allowed him to be a normal teenager for just a split second. It was nice. 

“It’s all so confusing.” Akihiko sighed, having calmed himself down enough to look Minato in the eyes again. “I know I care about you a lot, and that you’re special to me.” He paused for a second, his face starting to glow red once again. It was… cute seeing him like this, Minato noted with a smile. He always had this cool, confident air to him, but he blushed beet red whenever he had to talk about anything remotely romantic. He was adorable. Minato had to keep him safe. “And I know that we’re… not platonic soulmates.” Minato frowned cartoonishly. ‘Not platonic?’ That was all he could say? Though he tried to keep out his look of exaggerated disappointment, he couldn’t help the small, quiet laugh that escaped him. After everything that had happened tonight, he still couldn’t manage to say the word ‘romantic.’ That’s what Minato hoped and assumed, anyway, though a small part of him worried that Akihiko was acting this way because he was still unsure about the nature of his attraction. 

He immediately pushed that thought to the side. He had enough on his plate already; there wasn’t room for worrying about something that so clearly wasn’t true. 

“You can say it outright,” Minato urged gently, smiling slightly to himself as Akihiko’s eyes widened. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” Akihiko smiled back, something Minato unfortunately hadn’t gotten to see much of tonight. He savored the image in his mind the same way he did with a delicious piece of chocolate or a song he couldn’t get out of his head. He hoped that, after tomorrow, it wouldn’t be such a rare sight anymore. “I know that we’re romantic soulmates. There, is that better?” Minato nodded, feeling his own face heat up just a bit. 

“Yep.” He found himself smiling wider than he usually did. He was sure he looked stupid right now, but, once again, he didn’t let himself worry about something so trivial. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“It does sound nice out loud, doesn’t it?” Akihiko stretched before leaning back against Minato’s headboard, and almost instinctively, he joined him. His head may have been a bit closer to Akihiko’s than it should have been, but that was alright. He could move if he was uncomfortable. “I… take it back, by the way. About thinking I love you, I mean.” Minato’s heart sank so deep into his chest that he was certain it stopped beating entirely. He took it back? Were the silly fears he’d pushed away really not unfounded after all? And why the hell was Akihiko dropping this on him five seconds after saying they were romantic soulmates? Akihiko seemed to have noticed Minato’s panic, and quickly explained. “W-Wait, no, that sounds bad.”

“Of course it sounds bad.” Minato’s eyes bored into Akihiko’s, waiting for an explanation. He had figured by this point that he didn’t mean what Minato initially thought he did, but he was still curious how exactly Akihiko was going to finish that thought. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He stumbled out, sounding equally nervous and apologetic. “You just… make me forget to think about what I’m saying, is all.” Akihiko dropped that onto him as if it was a completely normal statement, and it took Minato a second to truly grasp the implications of it. He made Akihiko forget to think before he spoke. He made Akihiko so nervous he blurted things out without thinking. Though Akihiko wasn’t exactly the most well-spoken or cautious person to begin with, the thought still made a smile rise back up to Minato’s face. 

“So that’s why you started a conversation with, ‘I don’t love you?’” He teased, and Akihiko frowned exaggeratedly.

“That is not what I said.” He crossed his arms. 

“That’s pretty much what you said.” 

“You’re forgetting the most important part, Minato.” Akihiko adjusted his body slightly, though he didn’t miss the way he kept his head close to Minato’s. He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. “I said, ‘I think.’”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked, half-genuine half-teasing, and Akihiko looked about ready to punch him. 

“If you would let me finish,” he said with the same mixed tone that Minato had. He figured it was probably time to shut up and listen. “I… know that I love you. Deep in my heart I know it.” Minato could hardly hear the end of Akihiko’s sentence over the sound of the thrumming in his heart. He wasn’t sure what part got to him the most; just hearing him say it out loud, or the fact that he knew it ‘deep in his heart’ like it came as naturally as breathing. As strong as Minato liked to think he was, he found himself crumbling like a poorly-made cookie the moment Akihiko finished speaking. He was in a thousand pieces, and all of them had the same exact words on the tip of their tongue. 

“I love you too,” he managed, his voice quiet, shaky, and unlike himself. He was so strong and confident with a sword in his hands and the fate of the world at stake, but when it came to spilling his feelings out to a boxer that was in a little over his head, he came completely undone. 

Minato had never been the greatest at shaking off the effects of a Marin Karin spell. Now, he finally understood why. 

“That’s… good,” Akihiko said, his own voice uncharacteristically soft and nervous. Minato felt relieved that he wasn’t the only one, but he had figured a long time ago that Akihiko was just as nervous about this as he was. “I mean, uh, not good. It’s… great? Awesome? Whatever, you know what I mean.” He laughed awkwardly, and Minato looked at him with sparkles in his eyes. Like his body was being controlled by an external force, he inched closer. “It’s really relieving to hear that.” He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “I heard from one of the girls that follows me around that you’re not supposed to tell someone you love them for… how long was it? A year?” Minato blinked slowly. He’d heard something like that before too, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t the right time frame. Eh, not that it mattered. He kept listening. “I didn't really get it, and I also wasn’t really listening, but I didn’t want to say anything to make you uncomfortable. I said ‘I think,’ at first so I didn’t take things too quickly, but I realize now that I probably could’ve picked a better way to word it.” Akihiko smiled, and Minato could almost physically see the stress lift off of his back. He was certainly right about his wording, considering he’d almost given him a heart attack with the way he’d said it, but right now, Minato couldn’t have cared less. He leaned in even closer, resting his head on Akihiko’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” He noticed Akihiko’s eyes widen out of the corner of his eye, not expecting Minato’s sudden affection, but he thankfully didn’t move or protest. “I’ve heard that before too. But this is different, I think.” Minato couldn’t put into words the thousand-million-trillion ways this situation was different from a normal relationship, but he really didn’t need to. Hell, the only reason they were having his heart-to-heart right now in the first place was because they had gotten tired of arguing about a life or death matter. Frankly, Minato didn’t give a shit about what was ‘normal’ when nothing in either of their lives was. He knew he loved Akihiko, and Akihiko knew he loved him. They didn’t need to beat around that. “And even if it wasn’t, I don’t care about things like that.” 

“Of course you don’t.” Akihiko laughed, and before Minato could ask if that was supposed to be a good or bad thing, he continued. “I figured you wouldn’t. You don’t seem like the type of person to let other people’s opinions affect you.” He could say that again. The amount of times he’d been called one derogatory term or another because of his hair color and style was proof enough. “But again, you make me forget to think before I speak. Or, I guess this time you made me think too much?” Akihiko frowned slightly before taking a deep breath and smiling once again. “Well, that doesn’t matter now.” He went silent again, relaxing against the headboard while lazily running a hand through Minato’s hair. He was worried about how well silence would play out right now, considering that their argument was still hanging in the air, but surprisingly enough, it didn’t circle back to it as quickly as he thought it would. The two of them simply enjoyed each other’s company, even without saying a word. Eventually, after some period of time that Minato was too lost in the feeling of Akihiko’s hand in his hair to guess at, he gently grabbed his wrist and slid his sleeves up, gently tracing along the shapes of his soulmark. 

“I’ve never seen one so fresh before,” he commented idly as his fingers continued to move. “Well, other than my own.” 

“None of your friends showed theirs to you on their birthday?” Minato frowned slightly. He realized all too late that his question may have been opening a wound that Akihiko didn’t want to talk about, but by the time he started to think of ways to change the topic of conversation, he had already begun to answer. 

“Well, Mitsuru’s never shown anyone hers. She was worried about what would happen if her soulmate turned out to be someone that was unfavorable to the Kirijo Group’s image, so she got one of those expensive cover-ups.” Minato bit his lip. That sounded like a miserable way to live, having to hide a natural part of herself for the sake of the group. He made a note to himself that, once this was all over, he would try to encourage her to live more truly to herself. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he had to at least try. After everything S.E.E.S had done for him, he owed it to her. “And Shinji and I weren’t really talking when he turned seventeen, so I saw it a few months later. It was… a frying pan and a flower, I think. He didn’t like to show it off very much.” Now that Minato thought about it, he’d never had the chance to see Shinjiro’s soulmark before he passed. A flower, hm? That sounds like the type of marking a kind, sweet person would have. He felt bad for them, whoever they were. 

“And you’re the only second-year that’s turned seventeen already, apart from Yukari, who…” Akihiko trailed off, and Minato was thankful that he did. They had all been with her the day she turned seventeen, hoping that having a small party for her in the dorms would help improve morale after everything that had happened. He could still clearly picture the sadness and anger on her face when her wrist was still blank into the Dark Hour and afterward. As much as he loved Akihiko, Minato wondered if it would have been better had their situations been swapped. Yukari deserved a soulmate more than he did, anyhow. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get heavy there.” Akihiko laughed to relieve the tension. Minato couldn’t even count the number of times he’d had to do that exact thing before. “But yeah, I’ve never seen a soulmark this fresh other than my own. It looks almost… fake. Like it’s going to rub off against my fingers.” Akihiko continued to trace along his soulmark with impossible softness, as if it truly would smudge if he wasn’t careful. Minato’s breath caught in his throat as he allowed his eyes to close for just a moment. This must have been what Koromaru felt while getting pet. 

“Keep trying. Maybe it will,” Minato joked to hide the fact that he wasn’t sure he could handle it if Akihiko pulled his hand away. He felt stupid for allowing himself to care so much about something so simple, but it was a reminder that Akihiko was still here. Alive, breathing, and smiling. At least for now, he was here. And though one would think that would only serve to worsen Minato’s anxiety about tomorrow, it was surprisingly the opposite. It allowed him to forget about it, just for a moment. He knew he would have to re-open that wound whenever this peaceful moment subsided, but that was alright. As long as he could enjoy this for just a little longer. 

“Yeah, maybe.” He chuckled quietly. He stopped tracing his fingers along Minato’s soulmark, but before he could protest, he interlocked their fingers together instead. Minato gripped onto his hand a bit too tightly, as if he would slip away if he didn’t hold on for dear life. “Though I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s already served its purpose.” Akihiko went quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting down to his own soulmark. Though it was exactly the same as Minato’s, he still analyzed it as if it was something he’d never looked at before in his life. “Y’know, I still don’t know why I don’t have a boxing glove as my marking.” He looked back up at Minato and squeezed his hand. “I guess Caesar uses electric spells, but that’s all I can think of with me and a lightning bolt.” Somehow, though he didn’t fully have the words to explain it, Minato could perfectly picture why Akihiko had a lightning bolt to represent him. It just fit him in a way that he couldn’t explain, as much as he wanted to. 

“Well, maybe boxing isn’t something you’ll always be interested in,” he commented idly while trying to think of a proper explanation, and Akihiko looked at him like he’d just stabbed him in the chest. “You said yourself that you only picked it up to learn how to fight with your fists. Maybe you’ll find something else eventually.” 

“I guess you could be right. Though that feels strange to think about.” Akihiko frowned slightly, and Minato didn’t blame him. It felt almost impossible to imagine Akihiko without his interest in boxing with how often and excitedly he talked about it. Even though soulmarks were supposed to represent a person’s entire life rather than just a snapshot of it, the idea that boxing wouldn’t always be a huge part of Akihiko’s life was difficult to picture. “And wouldn’t it be the same thing with you and that music note, then?” 

“It’s a clef. Not a note.” Minato’s response was immediate and instinctual. Akihiko rolled his eyes before narrowing them. 

“Wait, is a treble clef not a music note?” Minato frowned cartoonishly. He didn’t even want to have to answer that. Akihiko frowned in turn. “I did so much research about music too…”

“You did research, but you still thought a treble clef was a note?” 

“Most of it was around the time of my birthday last year, so I guess I forgot a lot of it.” That made sense, and made Minato a little less concerned. Though, if he really knew so little about music, that opened up the opportunity for him to teach him about it. Minato smiled warmly at the thought. “But anyway,” Akihiko squeezed his hand. “Wouldn’t it be the same situation for you and that treble clef then? If I’ll eventually grow out of boxing won’t you eventually grow out of your interest in music?” Minato shook his head before Akihiko even finished asking his question. No, of course he wouldn’t. That was like asking if he would grow out of his need to breathe and eat. 

“Music’s more than a hobby to me,” he answered before realizing how that might have sounded. “Well, I know boxing is more than a hobby to you too. But this is something I’ve loved since I was a kid.” Minato instinctively reached to pick his nails before remembering that one of them was currently occupied. He’d rather die than detach his hand from Akihiko’s right now, so he chose to sit in mild discomfort as he opened up. “I always thought my soulmark would be something relating to music.” So did my parents. So did Hamuko. Hamuko was the one who thought it would be a treble clef, actually. She thought it would be funny if she got a bass clef so we could match. But he didn’t say that. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t—it was as if his lips had been sealed shut with the strongest adhesive known to man. 

“Ah.” Akihiko nodded. “That makes sense then, I guess, since boxing is only something I picked up in middle school.” He still looked a bit saddened at the thought, but, again, Minato didn’t blame him. He also would have been a bit upset if his soulmark represented him with a symbol he didn’t have any connection to yet and didn’t understand. “Still, I’m curious why it’s a lightning bolt of all things. Is it really just because of Caesar?” His brows were furrowed slightly as he continued to stare down at his soulmark, as if looking at it for long enough would suddenly cause everything to make sense. By this point, Minato didn’t fully understand why it mattered so much to him. It had served its purpose, so what was the point in worrying so much about it? He could always get it covered if it mattered so much to him. Minato knew he’d never do that, though—he seemed to love him too much to cover up the thing that eternally bound them together. Or so he hoped, at least. 

“Well,” Minato’s mouth began to move before he had half a brain to realize what he was doing. He tightened his grip around Akihiko’s hand in frustration at himself for speaking without thinking, and racked his brain trying to put his thoughts into words. He knew in his heart that a lightning bolt represented Akihiko, but how? Why? It was more of a gut feeling than anything objective, and that annoyed him more than he was willing to admit. Minato closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It’s not like they had to have this figured out right now anyway. They had their entire lives to do that. 

If—

No. Stop it. 

“I think it fits you,” he mumbled out after a long pause. He realized that even though he couldn’t explain it, there was no harm in telling Akihiko what he thought. It wasn’t like he’d be mad at him for sharing an opinion. 

“Really?” Akihiko’s eyes shone with curiosity. “How?”

“I can’t fully explain it,” he admitted, and Akihiko’s curious smile didn’t falter. Minato breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “But it reminds me of you. Quick, strong, comforting. Something like that.” It took him a few seconds to realize that, in his annoyance at not being able to put it all into words, he had managed to do exactly that. Quick, strong, and comforting. It was simple, but it worked. And again, if everything went well, they would have their entire lives to figure it out further. 

But if—

Minato physically shook his head. 

“…You think storms are comforting?” Akihiko asked, dragging him back down to reality. Minato noticed a small blush creeping back up onto his cheeks. “I mean, uh, thank you for saying all of that about me.” Akihiko awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I guess it makes sense, then. If you think it fits then that’s all there is to it.” He finally looked up from his soulmark and back to Minato, and all of the concern in his eyes from a moment ago seemed to have completely vanished, as if Minato’s three word explanation was all he needed to feel at ease. It was comforting to know that his words had such an effect on Akihiko. “You know, until I got into boxing, I thought my soulmark would be a bug.” 

“A bug?” Minato couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice, and he shot up in shock. It was so unexpected to hear that he couldn’t help himself. A bug? Akihiko? If he remembered correctly from their brief time spent gardening together, wasn’t he afraid of bugs? Minato’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Why a bug? Don’t you hate bugs?”

“I don’t hate them; I just don’t really like them either.” The way Akihiko almost physically cringed while saying that didn’t really help his case, but Minato didn’t push any further. He’d have the rest of his life to make fun of Akihiko for being afraid of bugs—he didn’t need to get it all out right now. 

If the rest of his life lasted longer than twenty-four hours, anyway. Though that would be better than the other way around. 

Stop it. Please stop it. 

“Still. If you don’t like bugs why’d you think you’d get one as your soulmark?” Minato used his curiosity to dispel his intrusive thoughts. It worked, for the most part, though some of them still lingered in the back of his mind. “That’s like if Junpei got a book for his. Or if Fuuka got a frying pan.” Akihiko laughed, but it felt forced. Either this went deeper than Minato initially thought, or his attempt at a joke was just that bad. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure which one he was hoping for. 

“Me and Miki used to catch them together as kids.” Ah. That explained the awkward laugh and somewhat pained expression on his face. He listened intently, eyes widened as he leaned back against Akihiko’s shoulder once again. Akihiko released a quiet sigh in what seemed to be relief, as if he had been on edge for the entire thirty or so seconds that he had been sitting up for. Minato found it endearing. “There wasn't a lot to do in the orphanage, so me, her, and Shinji spent a lot of time outside, and Miki’s favorite thing to do was try and catch bugs during the summer. Some of them still creeped me out even back then, but I ignored it for her sake. Though we did get in trouble once for her trying to keep a spider we found as a pet.” Akihiko laughed again, and it sounded more genuine this time. He could still see the same pain in his eyes that was always present when he talked about Miki, but it seemed less prevalent this time. Minato would have liked to think that it was because he felt more comfortable talking about her to him than other people, but he couldn’t make that bold of an assumption yet. Whatever the reason was, it made him feel just a bit more at ease. He took a deep breath, picturing young Akihiko, Miki, and Shinjiro running through the forest with silly-looking bug-catching nets. It was only then that Minato realized he had no idea what Miki actually looked like, since Akihiko had never described her physically before, and that made his comfort falter. He chose to imagine her similarly to her brother—light gray hair that was somehow natural despite its strange coloring, always somehow wearing red, blindingly bright smile. Someday he would ask him if he had any photos of her to show him, but not today. They had gone through enough today as it was. 

“I never really gave as much thought to my soulmark as Miki did,” Akihiko continued, and Minato shook himself out of his distracted thoughts. “She was so confident that mine would be a bug that I believed her. Even though she was the one of us that actually liked the bugs, she was still insistent that mine would be a grasshopper. Little kid logic, I guess.” Akihiko smiled sorrowfully. Minato looked up at him and tried his best to smile back in the hopes of comforting him just a little. “She thought hers would be a cat, and Shinji’s would be his beanie, because he wore one everywhere, even back then.” For some reason, Minato’s mind focused on the first part of that statement more than anything else. Miki liked cats then, huh? He didn’t think Akihiko had ever brought up that detail before. Now he had another thing to add to the picture of Miki he was slowly painting in his head. 

“She liked cats?” He mumbled out, only half paying attention to what he was saying. Akihiko nodded, and Minato continued to zone out and get lost in his thoughts. Miki seemed so similar to Hamuko. Always full of energy, always getting her brother wrapped up in her shenanigans, and just generally full of the innocent, whimsical joy that little kids had. He was pretty sure that this was the first thing Akihiko had described about Miki that didn’t also apply to Hamuko—she was allergic to cats and just generally didn’t like them as much as she did other animals—and it was shocking that out of all of the details Akihiko had given him about his sister, this was the first one he could remember that didn’t fit Hamuko as well. They seemed like they would have been great friends, hell, even soulmates, if they had been the two to survive instead. “She and Hamuko would have been good friends,” he thought aloud, not even noticing what he had said until he saw Akihiko’s eyes widen. 

“Oh? Why’s that?” He asked, and Minato wanted to scream at himself for letting that slip. He paused for a second, waiting for the panic that had kept him from speaking about Hamuko all these years to set in, but… it didn’t. He felt completely normal— good , even—and he couldn’t believe it. Had he really been worried over nothing for almost a decade? Or would it hit him later? Or maybe it was just because he was talking to Akihiko, who had gone through a similarly traumatic experience? He wasn’t sure, and, frankly, he didn’t care. Though it was only a small detail, he’d still managed to say something about Hamuko without shattering into a million pieces like he’d always feared he would. So, not wanting to wait for it to hit him, Minato answered his question. 

“Well,” He started, then immediately stopped. Great job. It took him a few seconds to say anything again, his mind running a mile a minute desperately trying to say what he wanted to say while still keeping it brief. “Her and Miki were both full of energy.” It hurt him more than he wanted to admit having to use the word ‘were,’ even though it had been a decade since they had passed. He continued. “And they both liked being outdoors a lot.” Good. He was getting somewhere with this. Though he now realized what he was saying could apply to most young kids, he was too deep into this to back out now. Still, what else could he say about how similar they were without sharing too much? They were both nice and cared for their siblings a lot? Well yeah, obviously. That didn’t prove anything. Minato took a shaky breath in and out, and he felt Akihiko’s hand in his hair. 

“Deep breaths. It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured, though Minato could tell through his voice that he was worried himself. He probably thought that he was about to have a panic attack again, and though Minato knew he was far from that, he felt bad for making Akihiko worry so much about him. He followed his advice and took a deep breath, fighting his urge to bite his lip and keep quiet. 

“She also thought about my soulmark way more than I did.” His words were quick and jumbled, because Minato feared he would stop halfway through his sentence if he didn’t get it all out at lightning speed. His heart was racing like he had just run a marathon, but to his complete shock, he didn’t start to feel panicked or nauseous or any of the other thousand feelings he always felt when he even thought about Hamuko for too long. He still didn’t plan on twiddling his thumbs until it all hit him, so he continued, his mouth running faster than his brain could keep up with. “She thought we would both get clefs. She was right about me getting a treble clef, but she thought she would get a bass clef. I dunno why she picked a bass clef of all things, but she was always weird.” Minato’s heart was running a mile a minute. He somehow still had it in him to keep going.

“Not, like, bad weird obviously. Like me weird and you weird. She tried to take a bite out of the carpet in our room once.” Even though it was over a decade ago by this point, Minato still remembered that incident like it was yesterday. He had tried to convince her that it was a bad idea, but she hadn’t listened. He ended up staying home with her when she felt too sick to go to school the next day. “She also tried keeping something as a pet that she shouldn’t have.” It was slowly starting to hit him that he had said more about Hamuko in the past thirty seconds than he had in the last ten years, but his adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off yet. He continued. “She brought a frog that was living in our garden inside and didn’t tell our parents. We snuck out to buy him a cage and everything.” He vividly remembered that day as well. They had to scrape together what was left of their allowance money and make a thirty-minute trek to the nearest pet store just to buy a cage for the damn thing. Minato complained the entire time, but he still went with her. Hamuko had told him that he wouldn’t be allowed to be the frog’s uncle if he didn’t, and that was too devastating for his tiny seven year old brain to handle. “Our mom found him before we got back from the store and let him back outside, and Hamuko cried so hard about it that she didn’t even scold us for sneaking out to the pet store.” Minato took a few short, frantic breaths as he came down from the sudden adrenaline rush he’d gotten out of nowhere and started to realize what he’d done. 

Had he really just said all of that…?

“…You finally spoke about her,” Akihiko said quietly, gently, warmly. Minato felt his stomach churn and his body grow uncomfortably warm. Yeah, he did speak about her, and it was nowhere near as bad as he’d expected it to be. For some reason that was completely beyond him, talking about Hamuko somehow hurt less than thinking about her. Had he really been afraid of nothing for all these years? Or was it just because it was Akihiko he was talking to? He still didn’t know, and it still didn’t matter. “She does sound a lot like Miki from what you’ve said. I think you’re right when you say they would’ve gotten along.” Akihiko leaned in closer to him for a split second before moving back. Minato wasn’t sure exactly what he had been trying to do, but whatever it was, he’d apparently chickened out of it. He wished that he would have gone through with whatever it was, but he didn’t have enough confidence to mention it himself. “Miki didn’t have a lot of friends, so she could have used someone like Hamuko.” Minato felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into his chest with every word out of Akihiko’s mouth. They would have been such great friends, wouldn’t they? He tried to think about in more detail, tried to picture Hamuko’s nervous-slash-excited rants that she always went on before one of her friends came over to the house or the inevitable argument over who got to be who in whatever game they wound up playing, but with every image he tried to picture, his brain grew more and more foggy. He didn’t quite feel sad or nauseous in the way he’d expected to, but it felt like he was running a race without an end point. There was no point in imagining anything like this when they’d both been six feet under for a decade. He knew that, knew it would only serve to haunt him later on when he was at his most vulnerable, and yet…

“Yeah.” He smiled. Despite the cloudiness of his thoughts and the uncomfortable sadness he should have been feeling, Minato actually smiled. Maybe he’d been running for too long. He deserved a chance to catch his breath. “Hamuko didn’t have a ton of friends either.” Turns out, not that many kids wanted to be friends with the girl who spent recess trying to see if the mulch in different parts of the playground had different flavors. Who could have guessed? “I think they would’ve gotten along, though.”

“Mhm.” Akihiko nodded. Minato relaxed further against his shoulder. “I wonder if they’re looking down at us right now,” he said casually, as if that wasn’t the most heartbreaking thing in the world to hear out of nowhere. Minato managed to offer a half-nod, hoping he would change the topic of conversation to somewhere that didn’t make him feel like he was going to be sick. “Miki would’ve been in shock that my soulmate turned out to be a guy. I mean, I feel like any kid her age would’ve been, but she was really looking forward to meeting my future girlfriend.” Minato laughed softly. For some reason, imagining Akihiko with a girl in any way was incredibly difficult, though that may have just been the Yakushima incident lingering in his mind. 

“Hamuko always told me that I would end up with a guy,” he responded, maybe a little more deadpan than he should’ve, and Akihiko’s eyes widened with surprise. “I don’t think either of us even knew what being gay was yet. She just told me I was too weird for any girl to like me.” That hurt, coming from the girl who spent her free time decapitating her dolls. Though Minato did distinctly recall being vaguely relieved at the notion that he wouldn’t have to end up with a girl. Maybe that should’ve been his first sign. 

“Oh!” Akihiko was very clearly trying (and failing) to hold back his laughter. Minato didn't blame him—the idea that Hamuko had managed to clock him perfectly at age six was objectively hilarious. “That’s… nice.” 

“That’s one way of putting it.” He smiled slightly. Akihiko’s laughter got a bit louder. “I guess she wasn’t wrong, though.”

“Hey, don’t call yourself weird,” Akihiko scolded him, and, despite the fact that him being weird was correct in the same way the sky was blue and the grass was green, that hadn’t been what he was referring to. He blinked slowly at him, waiting for him to understand what he’d meant, but after a few seconds of awkward silence, he decided to just tell him directly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, and it seemed that Akihiko still didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. Normally Minato would have just told him directly, not wanting to further draw this out when he knew it was something he struggled with, but he was too embarrassed to say it outright. Even despite everything they’d been through together today, he still couldn’t force himself to do something as simple as referring to Akihiko as his boyfriend. To his credit, though, they hadn’t actually discussed this whole situation enough to determine whether or not they were actually dating. Though he doubted Akihiko would be upset at the prospect. 

“Hm?” Akihiko wondered aloud, tilting his head. Minato waited patiently. “Then what did you mean? I don’t—” He cut himself off abruptly before that signature shade of pink started to creep up on his cheeks again. Ah, there it was. “O-Oh.” Though Minato was resting on his shoulder and not his chest, he could almost feel the way his heartbeat sped up upon his realization. “Y-Yeah. Right. Duh.” Akihiko awkwardly cleared his throat, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Minato watched with affection in his eyes, having to restrain himself from letting something embarrassing slip from his mouth. He was just so cute like this, as generic and cheesy as that felt to say. He wanted to stay like this forever, head on Akihiko’s shoulders as he blushed like a schoolgirl at the most basic of comments or compliments. There was something so peaceful about it all, like all of his cares and worries could just melt away into the crook of Akihiko’s neck. 

He wanted to stay like this forever. But depending on how tomorrow went, their ‘forever’ could end here and now. This could very well be their last ever chance to relax like this, his very last chance to feel the warmth of Akihiko’s skin and the love in his eyes, and, somehow, having that advance notice was worse than being blissfully unaware. 

He hadn’t known it would be his last time holding his mother’s hand that day. Hadn’t known it would be the last time he’d hear his father’s voice. Hadn’t known it would be his and Hamuko’s last time going to the park together, or that they’d never actually arrive at their destination. If he had, it would’ve hurt all the more. There were so many things he’d have wanted to do and say that there wouldn’t have been enough time for them all, and that would have been too much for his tiny brain to have handled. And even now, he shared the same sentiment. If Akihiko were going to be taken from him tomorrow like he so desperately feared, he’d rather be completely unaware of it. If that were the case he would have gotten to enjoy his company to the fullest, and he would be spending their last night together full of love and affection rather than fear and guilt. If only he were blissfully unaware, then he wouldn’t have started his birthday by yelling at and running away from the one person he loved most. 

But because he knew, because he held that fear within him, he couldn’t focus on the tranquility of the moment. His mind instead drifted off to the things he should be doing to make the most of it all, and it felt so suffocating. 

You need to kiss him, a voice in his head yelled, a mixture of annoyance and sadness in its tone. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never get the chance.

“Minato,” Akihiko called out to him, as if he somehow knew exactly when to pull him out of his thoughts before losing himself in them. “Is something on your mind?” Minato balled his hand into a fist. He supposed there wasn’t a point in hiding it—even if he could, this was something that needed to be brought back up eventually. They’d left their discussion unresolved, and as much as Minato appreciated the distraction that their more lighthearted conversations provided, he knew that they were just that—a distraction. A distraction to both of them, since neither of them wanted to go back to the endless argument cycle they’d gone through earlier, and they both refused to let the other win. Oh well. The distractions were nice while they lasted. 

“How can you only read my face when I don’t want you to?” Minato tried to force a smile to lighten the mood, but he was sure it didn’t look natural. He eventually let his face fall back to its normal expression after a few seconds. 

“You aren’t exactly expressive most of the time, so it’s easy to see when something’s bothering you.” That was true, now that Minato thought about it. The reason he tried to keep his expressions so neutral in the first place was to prevent people from reading his feelings through his face, but of course that came back to bite him in the ass. “So, what’s up?” It was obvious that Akihiko’s question was nothing more than a courtesy, because with the way he was suddenly avoiding eye contact, Minato had a feeling they both knew what this was about. 

“Please don’t do anything stupid tomorrow.” Minato knew that wasn’t the best way to re-open the wound and say everything that was on his mind, but it slipped out of his mouth before he had the chance to think it over. 

“Minato…” Akihiko said his name with a sigh like he so often did, and Minato clenched his fist at his side. He knew it wasn’t intentional, but he sounded so pitying whenever he did that. Like he didn’t intend on actually listening to him at all, but still felt guilty for going against his wishes. If you feel so guilty about it, listen to me, he choked back, biting down on his lip. He couldn’t let himself get angry again, at least not yet. They didn’t need another hostile argument. “I thought we were done with this.” Minato’s nails dug sharply into his palm. Why would he think they were done talking about this? Had he just hoped that he had forgotten? 

“We never actually reached a conclusion. We just distracted each other.” Akihiko looked away from him. 

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He sounded so defeated already, but Minato knew better than to think this would be any easier. It was funny, really, just how quickly they could shift topics of conversation. Just a minute ago they were smiling and laughing, and now Akihiko looked like Minato had just taken his sword and stabbed him through the stomach. Though, now that he thought about it, even the more ‘lighthearted’ conversation had been about their dead sisters—maybe it wasn’t so much of a switch after all. “I don’t think there’s much of a ‘conclusion’ to be made,” he said, voice quiet and wavering, and Minato braced himself. “I’m not going to let you get hurt. You’re a strong fighter, and I won’t do anything unless I need to, but we have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow. I can’t—” he cut himself off, breathing deeply. His voice was shaking, and, if he weren’t resting on his shoulder hearing him speak, Minato would have thought it was coming from someone else entirely. He sounded so frantic, so scared that it felt impossible to believe this was the same person everyone praised for being so levelheaded and confident. Minato had always known that persona of his was a front to an extent, but seeing him here and now, almost on the verge of tears at the prospect of not being able to protect him, he was starting to think that it had all been a front. “I can’t lose you. I won’t. Especially not now that we’re…” he trailed off again, choosing to trace his finger along Minato’s soulmark rather than finishing his statement. 

Minato tried his hardest to indulge in the gentle feeling of Akihiko’s fingers against his wrist, but the more he focused on it, the sicker he felt. This could be the last time, no, this would be the last time if he couldn’t convince Akihiko to prioritize himself for once. He found himself mumbling things that were hardly coherent, trying his hardest to rehash his previous arguments in a vain attempt to get it through Akihiko’s thick skull that he didn’t want to be protected, but he knew that it was pointless. If he was able to convince him by just telling him what he wanted, they wouldn’t still be arguing about it. 

A powerful, grounded protector. Igor’s words repeated in Minato’s mind. Prioritizing everyone except himself was part of Akihiko’s personality on a cosmic level. There was no undoing that with a simple, ‘Please.’

He took a deep breath. He had an idea forming in the back of his mind, but it was one he didn’t want to have to execute. If it went badly, if he stumbled over his words or didn’t think through it well enough, it could end with Akihiko hating his guts. Though, then again, an alive Akihiko who despised him was better than one who loved him from six feet under. So as long as this accomplished something, it would be worth it. 

“Is that what Miki would want?” The words left his mouth with much more confidence than he had expected them to, as if this was something he had thought of hours ago and only just now had the confidence to say. In reality, though, Minato’s heart was pounding in his chest like he had just climbed to the top floor of Tartarus. How horrible of him, using Akihiko’s dead sister as leverage to get what he wanted. Minato could say with complete confidence that if someone tried using Hamuko as a way to get something out of him he would have promptly punched them in the face, so he braced himself for something similar. He wouldn’t blame Akihiko for that. He’d welcome it, actually. 

“What?” But, surprisingly enough, he didn’t do anything of the sort. Though he only spoke a single word, Minato could perfectly understand exactly how he was feeling. His tone was equally confused as it was angered, as equally quiet as it was sharp. Minato’s stomach churned, and he took another deep breath. 

“Is that what Miki would want?” He repeated, and Akihiko’s brows furrowed. He figured that this wasn’t the best conversation to have while resting against Akihiko’s shoulder—even if it was, he doubted Akihiko would want him that close after this anyway—so he sat up. “Or Aragaki-senpai?” He added, his confidence having largely faded away. He realized that he should have opened with that, but it was too late now. He couldn’t make an argument for what Miki would have wanted because, even with as much as Akihiko talked about her, he never knew her personally. It would be rude and disrespectful for him to assume what she would have wanted for her brother when she had been dead for over a decade and he had never even met her. Again, if someone tried to pull something like that with Hamuko, Minato would have punched them in the face. So he figured that wasn’t the best course of action. 

But he did know Shinjiro, at least in passing. He did know what he would have wanted, or at least he could make a case for it. His dying wish was for Akihiko to take care of Ken in his absence, and he couldn’t do that if he went and died himself. It was as simple as that, though Minato knew there was likely more to it that he wasn’t aware of. He felt horrible for using Akihiko’s dead friends and family against him, but he didn’t have any options left. Besides, he was sure they would forgive him in the afterlife if they saw it had helped him live a full life rather than dying at eighteen. 

“Minato,” was all Akihiko said in response for a bit, his tone halfway between angry and regretful, and he was getting pretty sick of listening to him say it. Minato, Minato, Minato. He usually loved the way Akihiko said his name, always so gentle and caring, but today it was like listening to nails scraping against a chalkboard. It was always either disappointment or pity, and he couldn’t decide which he hated worse. “Don’t bring them into this,” he finally added after what felt like a century of sitting in uncomfortable silence, but at least Minato could read his tone now. He was angry, his eyes flashing with a certain rage he hadn’t seen in Akihiko often, and Minato swallowed. He couldn’t say he blamed him, nor that this was unexpected, but it was still painful to witness. Minato squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hand into a fist. 

“I had to,” he managed, his voice trembling in a way that completely betrayed him. Of course, the one time where he couldn’t keep up the image of being calm and confident was the time it mattered most. Figures. “If I—”

“Is that what Hamuko would want for you, then?” Akihiko cut him off, and Minato’s eyes shot open. It took him a few seconds to even process what he had just said, but once he did, he felt his body entirely freeze in place. His heart stopped beating, his fingers uncurled and froze at his sides, and his vision grew blurry. In the back of his mind he had considered the possibility of his argument to be reversed on him like this, but he thought he’d be able to take it. Evidently not. “Would she want me to let you die?” He bit his lip. She doesn’t know you. She wouldn’t be angry at you for a mistake. If anything, she’d be happy to see me again. Minato ignored the obvious truth that the same exact reasoning would apply to Miki, like he had been doing for the past few hours. Because if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to keep up his argument, and if he couldn’t keep up his argument, Akihiko would die tomorrow. He would die tomorrow, and it would be Minato’s fault. What a horrible leader he was, not even being able to—

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that now. He’d prefer not to have to think about it ever, but especially not now, when in the middle of an argument that very well may decide whether he lived or died tomorrow. 

“All—All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep the people I care about safe.” Akihiko’s voice was trembling, his eyes downcast and looking as far away from Minato as humanly possible. Knowing it was Minato’s own fault that he was acting this way made it hurt all the more. “Ever since Miki died that’s all I’ve cared about, and I still managed to screw it up.” Minato felt a sharp pain in his chest. He’d known about Akihiko’s protective tendencies ever since he’d met him, but this was his first time fully putting them into perspective like this. He’d dedicated so much of his life in order to keeping his loved ones safe, yet he’d still wound up having his best friend die in his arms. Minato had understood Akihiko’s motivations before, but now, he almost felt selfish for having conflicting ones. Was it selfish to fight him on this, even though Akihiko had lost someone so much more recently than he had? He’d said earlier that Minato was the stronger of the two, but that only held true in a combat sense. Akihiko was so, so much more resilient than he would ever be. 

For a moment, just one brief second, Minato considered giving in. Giving in and letting Akihiko prioritize him over himself, letting him jump in front of attacks when he didn’t need to, letting him get himself killed just so he could give him the peace of mind he needed and deserved. But as quickly as that thought came, it left. He still couldn’t let himself do that. Did it really have to be one of them or the other? Was there any other way? “It might not be what Miki would want, and I’m sure Shinji would kick my ass in the afterlife for not being able to keep my promise, but for once, they’re not the important ones here.” Akihiko finally looked up, his eyes boring into Minato’s with tears welling up in them, and he continued in a voice so soft that it almost didn’t sound like it was coming from him at all. “You are. You’re alive, you’re my soulmate, and you’re just as reckless as I am. I know you’re more than capable of fighting on your own, but we have no idea what we’re going to be up against tomorrow.” Akihiko took a deep breath, still shaking slightly, before continuing. “Please just let me keep you safe. Keep you alive. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He took a momentary pause, looking away again. “Especially not you.” 

Before he said anything, Minato took a deep breath. A deep breath to ensure that, despite the trillion different emotions crashing into him like aggressive tidal waves, he wouldn’t say anything he would regret. He had a feeling that he would come to regret it no matter what he said, but he still forced himself to think before he spoke for once. After all, both of their lives depended on his words, or at least that’s what he liked to think. He couldn’t just mirror Akihiko’s argument again, because he’d tried that already and all it had done was create a back and forth ping pong match of an argument that made them both want to rip their hair out. But what else could he do other than just give up? Was there anything that could give them what they both wanted? Was there even a way for them to both survive tomorrow? Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. But he had to try. 

“I’m not going to let you do that,” he finally answered. It was a simple response, and one that made it sound like he had much more control over the situation than he actually did, but at least he had managed to spit something out. “I’m the leader. Shouldn’t it be my job to protect you?” The words left Minato’s mouth before he realized this would only start another argument. He tried to force something else out before Akihiko could respond, but he couldn’t manage in time. 

“And I’m your Senpai. So you could argue the same thing that way.” As expected. Minato took another deep breath in and out and tried to think of something, anything else he could say. There had to be another way, had to be something he could do or say that didn’t involve one of them sacrificing themselves. If there really was no other option then Minato would let himself be killed in a heartbeat to ensure Akihiko’s safety, but by this point he didn’t think he could convince him to let that happen, and if he tried it while leaving their argument in the state it was in, they could both get killed trying to protect the other.

Was there really no other way…?

“Can we both try to protect each other?” He thought aloud, then immediately cringed at the way his words sounded. Yeah, sure, ‘protect each other.’ With what, the power of friendship? Well, he supposed it was more than ‘friendship’ at this point. Not that it mattered; it was a stupid idea. If they both tried to keep each other safe they could both get killed, same as if they left it undiscussed. Minato didn’t care as much about his own life as he assumed he was supposed to, but if Akihiko was going to die anyway, he would very much so prefer to not also die. Something that this plan didn’t really give him a choice in. 

“Hm,” Akihiko said as if he was actually thinking about it, and Minato almost felt bad for putting that idea in his head. “What do you mean, exactly?” Ah, his worst nemesis—having to actually explain his thoughts. 

“…I don’t know,” Minato answered truthfully, because he wasn’t sure he could handle sitting in silence for another millennia while he tried to explain an idea that didn’t exist and wouldn’t work. “It’s just something that crossed my mind, since this clearly isn’t going anywhere.”

“You can say that again,” Akihiko forced a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “Maybe that could work, though? We could try to talk something out.” A feeling started to bubble up inside Minato’s chest, and though he couldn’t quite put a name to it, he knew it wasn’t good. He didn’t want to talk this out because he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. They would just keep arguing about the same thing they’d been arguing about for hours now, and they would come to the same conclusion that they’d reached about a hundred times already—that they were both too stubborn to agree to not act recklessly in order to keep their soulmate safe. He already knew what was going to happen, and he didn’t particularly feel like experiencing Déjà Vu. 

“If we’re both focusing on each other, then that’s less of us focused on fighting.” Though it would only be two of the nine of them, that was still a risk they couldn’t take. They didn’t know what they were going to be up against tomorrow, and having two of their strongest fighters focused on each other rather than the actual battle could be detrimental. 

“We don’t have to be focused on each other,” Akihiko reasoned, and Minato raised an eyebrow. How? If their main priority was keeping the other safe, how could they possibly do that without their focus being away from the battle? “We could just… try to be normal about it, I guess.” That didn’t help his confusion at all. Nothing about any of this was ‘normal,’ so he wasn’t sure what Akihiko meant by that. “Only jump in when it’s absolutely necessary, give each other the benefit of the doubt, stuff like that.” Ah. So how normal people should be handling a situation like this, got it. That would have worked if they were literally anyone else, but with both of them refusing to lose another person close to them, Minato doubted this would go as planned. It was like trying to shove two same-side magnets against each other, only instead of repelling each other they simply exploded. They would be relying entirely on the honor’s system with this ‘plan,’ if you could even call it that, and though Akihiko didn’t seem like the type of person to deliberately lie to someone, he also didn’t seem like the type of person to keep a promise when it meant losing someone he loved. Minato himself would have been fine with it personally, knowing that at least Akihiko wouldn’t throw himself in front of a bullet just for the sake of it, but he wasn’t sure himself nor Akihiko could actually keep their promises. 

“Would you even agree to do that?” Minato asked, forcing a nose-exhale laugh so that he didn’t lose his mind. Oh, how he wished his birthday could have been on any other day. Then they wouldn’t be having this argument, or, even if it was inevitable, they still would have been able to indulge in cheesy soulmate things together for a while beforehand. Now, though, he was so preoccupied by making sure Akihiko even survived past tomorrow that the actual truth of them being soulmates was further back in his mind than he wanted it to be. Akihiko was his soulmate, he reminded himself despite the fear in his heart. Akihiko, who always had his back no matter what. Akihiko, who he’d had to make up excuses to avoid training sessions with because he’d started blushing like a schoolgirl whenever he grabbed his hands to adjust his technique. Akihiko, who, even despite the nightmare of a situation they were in right now, was the exact person Minato had hoped to be his soulmate. No matter what happened tomorrow, nothing would change the fact that something had bound them together through time and space, and even though it had no impact on whether they lived or died tomorrow, that provided him a strange sense of comfort. Distantly, Minato wondered if Hamuko would have liked him. And, though he had no way of knowing it one way or the other, he liked to imagine that she would. 

“I… guess so, yeah.” Akihiko was hesitant, his hands shaking at his sides and his eyes still full of fear and anxiety, but he still smiled. An actual smile instead of a fake one just to relieve tension, or at least that’s what it looked like. Minato felt some of the weight in his heart lift. A smile like that from Akihiko always made him feel that, somehow, no matter what was happening around them, everything was going to be okay. It was way too embarrassing for him to admit out loud, but it was the truth. Maybe he’d have the confidence to tell him someday. “Knowing that you won’t also do something reckless makes me feel a lot better. I guess we’d be relying on the honor system here, but…” He paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “I trust you.” Minato’s eyes widened, wondering if he was actually hearing what he thought he was or if he’d already fallen asleep and started dreaming of impossible things. He couldn’t say anything for a few seconds in pure astonishment. Had he really managed to solve this entire argument with such a simple non-solution? 

Protecting each other. Keeping each other safe while still focusing on the fight at hand. It was so stupidly simple, and yet, now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. They were both too focused on each other, and not focused enough on themselves. They couldn’t keep each other safe if they were one foot in the grave themselves. It was so simple, yet it worked. With a mixture of exhaustion and relief, Minato laid back against his bed with a yawn. It was finally over. Well, at least until tomorrow. There was still no telling what would actually happen, no matter how much preparation they did, so Minato tried his hardest not to think about it. He instead tried to focus on how soft his blankets felt against his back, or how cute Akihiko looked staring down at him. He had almost a full day before he had to act as leader again, and he planned on making the absolute most of it.

“H-Huh?” Akihiko stumbled out in confusion, his brows raised. “Is something wrong?”

“Tired,” Minato responded plainly with a yawn. He let his eyes flutter shut for a second, though he made sure not to let himself fall asleep. He wasn’t ready to part with Akihiko just yet, even with how exhausted he was. He could always skip school tomorrow if he needed to—he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity for something as silly as sleep. 

Hm. Maybe that logic explained why he was so tired all the time. 

“Okay…?” Akihiko still seemed confused, and Minato wasn’t quite sure why, until he realized that he hadn’t actually responded to Akihiko’s offer yet. He’d done it in his head, and somehow, lost in the overwhelming relief that came with it, he’d forgotten to actually translate it into words. If only soulmates could read each other’s minds. 

“Oh, sorry.” He sat back up, embarrassedly brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “That sounds like a good idea. What you were saying earlier, I mean.” Minato picked at his fingernails as his mind ran through different ways to phrase what he wanted to say. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, but he also had to confirm that they were both on the same page. “I think it’s possible for us to both watch over each other as long as we’re not stupid about it.” Because that’s what it was, really—stupid. He wasn’t shy about admitting that. It didn’t matter which one of them was the one jumping in front of an attack that could knock them out cold just for the sake of making sure the other was safe—it was stupid either way. Minato had known that since the beginning, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. The belief that his life was somehow inherently worth less than anyone else’s, especially someone as resilient and kind as Akihiko’s, was still more prevalent in him than he’d thought. And while that was something that couldn’t entirely disappear in a single night, at least he could now admit with full transparency that he was stupid. And, well, that was a start. 

“Hey, I’m not—” Akihiko started to argue, then cut himself off with a quiet sigh. “Fine. I guess that sometimes the things I do in combat can be a little…”

“Stupid?” Akihiko frowned like a sad puppy. 

“Reckless.” Close enough. “But, you’re the same way. So if we both work together, I think we’ll find a way to make this work.” 

“Yeah.” Minato let a smile grace his face, resting his head against Akihiko’s shoulder. “I guess we’re both a little stupid.” 

“Is that really the best word you can think of?” Akihiko sounded more amused than annoyed, surprisingly enough. Weird, considering Minato had overheard Shinjiro say the exact same thing and Akihiko had slapped him in the face. Minato wasn’t sure if it was because of Shinjiro’s playful best friend tendencies, or Minato’s soulmate privileges. Either way, he was thankful to not be slapped. 

“Yeah,” he answered truthfully, because he was way too tired to think of any word fancier than ‘stupid’ to describe this whole mess. Akihiko was always the one better at vocabulary anyway. 

“Well, maybe you’re right.” He smiled, putting a hand on Minato’s shoulder. It made him happier than it had any right to. “But we both have our reasons.” Minato mumbled something incoherent, not having the mental energy to come up with a fitting response. Yeah, they did have their reasons, and he didn’t want to talk about them again. Not right now, anyway. He just wanted to enjoy Akihiko’s presence before the battle tomorrow. His presence as his friend and soulmate, not as a coworker. “You really are tired,” he said with amusement, using his spare hand to ruffle through Minato’s hair. “We should probably get going to bed,” he suggested, and Minato cut him off with an immediate, “Mm-mm,” and a shake of his head. 

“I’m alright,” Minato said, though the yawn that escaped him immediately afterwards wasn’t doing much to prove that. He was tired, and he knew he’d need sufficient sleep to prepare for tomorrow, but, again, he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. “I’m used to staying up this late.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, y’know.” His tone was more gentle and teasing rather than actually upset, but Minato had a feeling he had just set himself up to receive another health and fitness lecture sometime within the next few days. Oh well. As long as he got to spend more time with him. “But it’s not like we’re going to school tomorrow anyway, so it’s alright. Just don’t make it into a habit. Or, more of a habit than it already is, anyway.” Ignoring the last part of his statement, because that ship had sailed years ago, something else caught Minato’s attention.

“Oh, you’re not going to school tomorrow either?” Minato wasn’t sure why that surprised him so much. It was already the middle of the night and they hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and he knew that no one would fault either of them for missing a single day due to realizing that they’re soulmates. “I’m glad,” he said despite his embarrassment, because ditching school with Akihiko sounded a lot more appealing than ditching by himself and most likely sleeping through it all. 

“Yeah. It’s tradition, right?” Oh, yeah, that too. He had never read much into soulmate traditions before, but he remembered hearing from Hamuko that most people ditched school or called out of work for a while after discovering their soulmate. He remembered it most commonly being for days or weeks, though, which definitely wasn’t something they could do. Or, now that he thought about it, wasn’t something most people could do. Maybe she had stretched the truth a little on that one. “And since we’d have to come back to the dorms right after school to prepare for the battle, we wouldn’t have time to see each other beforehand. 

“Mhm,” he agreed, because there was no way in hell he was going straight into the battle tomorrow without any time to wind down after tonight. Absolutely not. “What do you want to do, then?”

“I think you should decide. It’s your birthday, after all.” Minato’s eyes widened a bit. Right, it was his birthday. He’d almost forgotten that amongst everything else that had happened and the shock of immediately knowing who his soulmate was once he got his mark. He was seventeen now, hm. He didn’t feel any different in terms of age, which wasn’t a surprise given that he’d never given much thought to his age on birthdays before, but he realized that his attitude towards his soulmark had done a complete 180 since he’d first received it.

He wasn’t scared anymore. Okay, well, not exactly. He was still scared because he was human, and even someone with as low self-preservation instincts as Minato did would still be scared at the idea that they very well may die tomorrow. He was scared, but above that, he was happy. Even though the idea of losing Akihiko terrified him beyond belief, he was still alive and breathing right now. And that was what mattered, wasn’t it? They were going to protect each other, love each other, and if he was always focused on the future, he would be too afraid to do any of that. Hm. Maybe if he would’ve had this thought earlier, he could’ve been sleeping peacefully by now. Or Akihiko would’ve been stupid and gotten himself killed tomorrow. So he supposed it was worth it anyway. 

“Minato?” Akihiko asked softly, running a finger through his hair, and Minato didn’t hate the way his name sounded this time. It was gentle instead of pitiful, loving instead of scared. Minato, Minato, Minato. He’d always been fairly apathetic about his name, but hearing Akihiko say it in a way that didn’t make his stomach turn made him appreciate it just a bit more. “Today is your birthday, right?” He asked, and Minato nodded.  

“Sorry. Thinking.” He leaned into Akihiko’s touch like a cat being pet. “Yeah, it's today.” 

“Happy birthday, then. I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” Minato smiled warmly. Yeah, today was his birthday. His birthday first, and a full moon second. He could afford to be a little selfish after all of the worrying he had done tonight. “Since you don’t seem like the type of person to make a big deal about it, I thought that maybe it had been a while ago and that you’d just been hiding your soulmark. I remembered after a while that it’s written on the calendar downstairs, but I was so preoccupied with everything that I completely forgot about it.” Ignoring the part of that statement that Minato was pretty sure he was supposed to be focused on, his brows furrowed. 

“It’s on the calendar?” Who even put it on there in the first place? It wasn’t him, that was for sure. Mitsuru was usually the only one who wrote things on there in the first place apart from the occasional note from Aigis or joke from Junpei, so he assumed it had to have been her. Minato wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected his own birthday to be penciled in when everyone else’s also had, but either way, he wasn’t happy about it. 

“Yeah? Why do you look so upset?” Minato frowned cartoonishly. 

“Everyone’s gonna try and talk to me.” So, so much talking. Minato liked having conversations with his friends, obviously, but not when said conversations revolved around him specifically. He’d never had a large enough group of friends for this to be a problem, but he imagined that he’d wind up being the center of attention for the entire day, barring the actual battle of course. Plus, he would inevitably get asked about his soulmark, and, well…

“You really hate small talk that much?” Akihiko laughed, though he seemed surprised. Now that Minato thought about it, he always felt more comfortable talking to Akihiko about himself than he did with other people. That was part of what made them soulmates, he guessed. “I mean I can try erasing or covering it up, but someone’s going to see your soulmark eventually anyway, so I don’t think there’s much point.” Minato grumbled in frustration, not wanting to admit that Akihiko was 100% correct in his statement. It would be a much more awkward conversation if the rest of S.E.E.S discovered his soulmark by accident a few months later than it would be if he and Akihiko just came clean today, and even though Minato knew that, he still didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to. Not only was he dooming himself to months of embarrassing comments from his teammates, but he was also essentially coming out to them as well. Maybe he could try lying and pretending they were platonic soulmates, but those were fairly rare already, and he’d overheard Yukari and Fuuka whisper-gossiping about whether or not Akihiko was gay a few months ago. So he sincerely doubted anyone would believe that. “But if you really aren’t ready for anyone to know, I can run to the general store and grab some of those temporary coverups for you to use until you’re ready. I’ve heard they can severely damage your skin, though, so you shouldn’t use them for too long.” 

“Thank you.” Minato genuinely considered the offer for a moment, but realized that it would only cause him more anxiety for the fight today. If he got it off of his chest now, then that was one less thing for him to worry about. Plus, he’d heard the horror stories of the people who used those things online, and he didn’t particularly want to end up with a permanent scar because he was too scared to come out to his friends. “But it's okay. I’ll tell them tomorrow.” Embarrassingly enough, it was only then that Minato remembered this wasn’t his decision to make. Akihiko didn’t seem as hesitant as he was, but this was still just as much his choice as it was Minato’s. He felt horrible for not recognizing that sooner. “If that’s what you want,” he added, and Akihiko nodded. 

“I’m okay with it.” He sounded… confident. Much more so than Minato expected, or that he felt himself. He supposed that, with everything they had both been through, there were much more threatening things to be afraid of than this. He tried to let Akihiko’s confidence rub off on him, but he still felt just the slightest bit nervous about it all. Though, he vastly preferred this type of nervousness over the gut-wrenching, stomach-churning kind. “I trust everyone here, and its better to get it out of the way now than have to deal with explaining it later.” Akihiko paused, then continued with a slight frown. “It might be best to keep it a secret at school, though. For your sake.” 

“Your fangirls, right?” He asked immediately, and Akihiko gave an annoyed half-nod. 

“Most of them are underclassmen, so they’re still hoping they’ll end up with the same soulmark as me. I don’t give a damn about what they think, but I don’t want you to get wrapped up in all of their nonsense.” Minato paused for a moment in thought, then shrugged. 

“I don’t care.” Why would he? It’s not like he’s ever cared about people’s opinions on him before. Besides, it would (hopefully) get them to leave Akihiko alone, which was something he had seemingly been trying to do for all three years of his high school career. Helping him finally accomplish that was worth a few mean comments from people Minato didn’t know nor care about. 

“Yeah, I expected you to say that.” Akihiko smiled. “You say that now, but you have no idea how vicious these girls are. They once got into an argument about my eye color.” Minato let out a quiet laugh. How was that even something arguable? They were gray. Light gray, but could look darker depending on the lighting, but during the Dark Hour, they looked a more emerald green color. Maybe he shouldn’t have known the details to that extent, but he was too far gone to feel embarrassed by it. He loved Akihiko’s eyes—so full of care and concern and love. Even with just a simple glance, he could read about a thousand of Akihiko’s thoughts, and all of them stemmed from a deep-seated desire to keep his loved ones safe. 

God, he was turning into such a sap already. Maybe he was too quick to judge all of those cheesy soulmate movies when he felt the exact same way as the characters he had mocked in the past. 

“They’re gray,” Minato mumbled out half-coherently, hardly even realizing he had spoken aloud until the eyes he was staring into so intently widened a bit. 

“Uh, yeah. They are.” He chuckled nervously, a light pink tint coating his cheeks. “Yours are about the same color. I’d never seen anyone else with my same eye color until I met you.” Akihiko was staring directly into his eyes, his gaze soft and gentle, and Minato had to look down after a few seconds to keep his sanity. “Yours are just a little bit lighter, though. And they look blue in Tartarus.” Akihiko went silent for a few seconds before blurting out, “Uh, not that I was, uh, staring or anything.” As if it hadn’t been obvious enough that he was lying through his teeth, Akihiko looked down and picked at his nails. Minato laughed quietly, his heart skipping one too many beats at the thought of being stared at, as if he hadn’t done the exact same thing during their shared training sessions.

“It’s okay.” Akihiko looked up, the tint on his cheeks now a much darker color. “We’re soulmates, so It’s normal. I think.” Not that he cared much about what was ‘normal’ to begin with, considering that nothing in his life had ever been normal. Still though, he doubted that something as simple as memorizing the shade of your soulmate’s eyes was anything too out of the ordinary. He’d heard much, much stranger stories online.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Akihiko squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, almost in frustration at himself. “I keep forgetting. Well, not forgetting, but it still doesn’t feel real yet.” He hesitated for a moment before grabbing hold of Minato’s wrist again, tracing his finger along the outline of the markings yet again. His touch was impossibly gentle, as if he was afraid of somehow managing to damage it. “It’s starting to fade in,” he commented, and Minato looked down to confirm it. He was right—the ink didn’t look fresh anymore. It looked the same as Akihiko’s now, he confirmed with a glance, and that thought made his entire body heat up. He’d obviously known it was real from the moment the Dark Hour struck, and had been hit with the reality that Akihiko was his soulmate again and again over the few hours they’d spent together, but now that the ink had fully dried into his skin, something clicked in Minato’s mind. 

It wasn’t just fresh ink on his wrist anymore. It was easy to forge a freshly-formed soulmark—all it took was a certain type of pen and a decently skilled artist. But fully-formed ones were a different story. No matter how many people had tried, they were impossible to mimic. And now, staring down at the completely identical markings drawn across his and Akihiko’s wrists, Minato felt a warmth in his heart. A strong feeling that, somehow, no matter what happened today, he would be okay. He couldn’t prove it, and there was more evidence to point towards the idea of something going wrong than there was to the idea that things would go perfectly, but he didn’t care. He’d always followed what his heart said over what his head did, and this was no different. Things would be okay, according to his heart. They had to be. And if his heart said so, that was all that mattered. 

Minato yawned. He was exhausted, his eyes heavy and his body weak, but he wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. Or, really, he wasn’t ready to leave Akihiko yet. They weren’t going to school tomorrow anyway, so there was no need for him to sleep yet regardless. 

“Tired?” Akihiko asked, and Minato nodded weakly. “That makes sense. It’s gotta be at least two by now.” Was it that late already? Minato didn’t have a clock on his wall and there was no way in hell he was getting up to fact check that, but it felt like the Dark Hour was mere minutes ago. The effects of being with his soulmate, he supposed. “If we want to make the most of our time tomorrow, we should probably head to—”

“No,” Minato cut him off. Akihiko feigned annoyance, but the smile on his face betrayed him. 

“You say that now, but you’ll be complaining about it in the morning if you don’t get some rest.” Was he completely right about that? Yes. Was Minato going to listen to him? No. 

“Don’t wanna,” he answered simply. Akihiko pressed his thumb against Minato’s soulmark, gently holding his wrist in place. 

“And why is that?” He asked with a soft, teasing tone. He’d read Minato like a book, even though he hadn’t said anything to clue him in as to why he was so hesitant to go to sleep. It was equally endearing as it was annoying. 

“You know why.” That wasn’t technically a lie, but it avoided making him admit it out loud. Minato wasn’t sure why he was still so embarrassed to say it, really. They had both confessed to each other, both admitted that they loved each other, both shared things that they’d never told even their closest friends, yet he was still too embarrassed to admit that he wanted Akihiko to stay. He didn’t understand the way his brain worked sometimes.  

“I do.” He trailed his thumb up Minato’s wrist until he reached his palm, then grabbed his hand and interlocked their fingers together. He was so distracted by the newfound warmth that he almost didn’t process Akihiko’s words. “I just want to hear you say it.” Minato’s breath caught in his throat. Since when had Akihiko gotten so confident? Just a minute ago he was blushing and stumbling over his words! This was so not fair! Apparently, his confident demeanor hadn’t entirely been an act after all. That or he was willing to put his nervousness aside in order to drive Minato crazy. He could see it either way. 

“I…” He started before trailing off. He still didn’t want to say it, but he didn’t really have any other options. He quickly shoved his nerves aside. Akihiko was his soulmate, and if he was uncomfortable with the idea of staying here with him, he sincerely doubted that they would even be in this situation in the first place. “I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted, his voice hardly above a whisper as he forced himself to look into Akihiko’s eyes. They lit up immediately, to the point that Minato could almost see stars shining in them. His smile was equally bright, as if this was the very thing he’d been waiting to hear all his life. 

“I don’t have to leave, you know.” Minato blinked slowly. Yeah? That was the whole point of not going to sleep? So they could spend more time together? He didn’t understand. “I’ll wake up early and go back to my room before everyone else goes to class. You won’t even notice that I’m gone.” He continued to stare blankly into Akihiko’s eyes, the implication of his words not hitting him for a few seconds. 

Wait, did he mean…?

“Huh?” Minato absolutely hated the tiny stutter he heard in his voice, but he couldn’t blame himself. Akihiko had just suggested that they share his bed and fall asleep together— how the hell was he supposed to keep a straight face? 

“Well, if you don’t want me to leave, I could just stay here. Your bed is big enough for the both of us.” Hearing him say it directly only made Minato’s face burn even brighter. He was so nervous just a minute ago, and now he was suggesting that they share his bed?? Where the hell had that come from??? “I’m sorry, did I read that wrong?” He asked, his voice now full of embarrassed concern. “We don’t have to! I just thought that, well…” Akihiko trailed off, stumbling over his words. 

“No,” Minato replied, then, upon noticing Akihiko’s disappointed expression, continued. “That’s, uh, fine.” Minato clenched his fist. He hated sounding so nervous, but his body betrayed him anyway. Hopefully it would go away with time, but with the way Akihiko made his entire body feel like it was the temperature of a supervolcano, he couldn’t imagine that would happen any time soon. “Just didn’t expect you to say that.” 

“Oh.” Akihiko looked incredibly relieved. Seemed he wanted this just as much as Minato did. “Okay, then.” He smiled, soft and nervous, and drummed his fingers on his lap. “How should we, uh, go about this, then?” Great question. Despite what Akihiko had said, his bed was in fact not big enough for two people. It was hardly big enough for one person, considering that Minato tended to sleep like a disgruntled starfish more often than not. He looked around his room as if it would somehow hold any answers, before responding with a resounding, “I dunno.” 

“Right.” Akihiko laughed quietly. “Well, if we move this pillow out of the way…” Akihiko mumbled his actions aloud to himself as he moved the piles of, admittedly, junk off of his bed, managing to create room for the both of them in the process. Maybe Minato should have had half a brain to realize that he didn’t need five pillows and a bag of chips in his bed, but it was too late for that now. “There.” Akihiko scooted back to admire his handiwork, which was admittedly impressive considering just how many pieces of junk were on his bed. Minato was used to it all so he hadn’t even noticed until now, but he cringed at the thought that his first ever interaction with Akihiko as his soulmate after yelling and running away from him was on a bed containing two bags of chips and three video game controllers. “That should be enough room.” 

“Hopefully.” Minato stretched before laying back down, facing Akihiko, who raised an eyebrow. “I sleep kinda funny,” he explained in the least embarrassing way he could. He didn’t expect it to be too much of a problem, but the small possibility of Minato kicking his soulmate off the bed in his sleep was absolutely mortifying to think about.

“Oh, that’s okay.” Akihiko smiled, clearly not knowing what he was in for. “I’ll try to leave you some extra room, then.” He laid down on the side of the bed closest to the door, then gestured for Minato to lay down next to him. He did, though very slowly and awkwardly. As he’d expected there wasn’t much space on the bed, but now that they were both actually laying down, their closeness became extra noticeable. He was pretty much laying against Akihiko’s chest, and with just the tiniest movement from either one of them, they could end up cuddling, which definitely did not make Minato feel like his entire body was about to burst into flames. Absolutely not. They both went silent—understandable, considering they were both about to go to sleep—before Minato felt a hand in his hair once again and a quiet, contemplative voice. 

“What… are we?” Akihiko asked, his voice so concerned and hesitant that it almost didn’t sound like him at all. It was surprising to hear, considering everything they had talked about earlier. They had talked about their most deep-seated fears and their memories of their dead siblings, but this was what made him nervous? It was… amusing. Yeah, that was the word. Definitely not ‘cute.’ 

“Whatever you want,” he answered back immediately, realizing it was a non-answer but being too tired to care in the moment. He knew that he could answer truthfully; they had both confessed their love for each other an hour ago. But still, there was something keeping him from just blurting it all out. Even with as much as he’d spoken tonight, Minato still found most conversations annoying and difficult. And even though a lot of those difficulties seemed to fade away when it was Akihiko he was speaking to, he still couldn’t force himself to say, ‘I want to be your boyfriend’ with a straight face. Absolutely not. 

“Then…” he trailed off, moving his hand from Minato’s hair to his waist, which made him let out a sound previously unknown to humankind. He can’t just fucking do! That! Minato managed to think to himself amidst the thousand million trillion emotions running rampant through his head. He was so startled, in fact, that he almost didn’t hear what Akihiko said afterwards, his nervous tone having largely faded away. “I’d like it if we could be boyfriends, then.” Ah. Minato’s breath caught in his throat, and he was pretty sure that Akihiko would have felt his heartbeat speed up if his hand was a little higher up. Akihiko had already told him in simple words that he loved him, but hearing him tell him directly that he wanted to be his boyfriend was like taking a Marin Karin straight to the face. He swallowed nervously, his heart probably a few seconds away from exploding out of his chest at this point, before he managed a nod. 

“I’d like that too,” he forced out, then let out a quiet sigh of relief. He heard Akihiko laugh with relief behind him, his grasp on Minato’s waist getting just a little tighter. 

“That’s so relieving to hear.” Minato could almost feel the brightness of Akihiko’s smile, and he really wished he could see it for himself. Then, as if Akihiko was truly on a mission to kill him, he leaned in closer. He leaned in closer and closer until Minato could hardly breathe, and just as he thought his body couldn’t get any warmer, he gently pressed his lips against his neck. 

The sound Minato let out was decidedly, undoubtedly, 110% the most embarrassing thing he had ever done. It wasn’t even an attempt at a word, or an attempt at a surprised noise. It was a completely nonsensical garble of sounds that was somehow even worse sounding than the first nonsensical garble of sounds he had let out. It was so bad that he heard Akihiko laugh behind him, and not his normal, quiet laugh either. Minato tried to focus on the positives instead—the fact that Akihiko had just fucking kissed him and that he could still feel the warmth of it against his neck—but that was pretty hard to do when Akihiko was laughing harder and louder than Minato had ever heard. 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled, though he made sure there was enough of a playful tone to his voice that Akihiko didn’t take him seriously. Unfortunately, that only made him laugh harder. 

“S-Sorry,” he managed between laughter. Minato frowned. “It’s just—I mean you’re always so composed, I didn’t expect that—” Minato’s hands gripped the side of the bed. He tried to come up with some snarky response, probably referencing the fact that almost the same thing was true vice versa, but his mind went entirely blank. He bit his lip. If he didn’t love him so much, he may have slapped Akihiko across the face. “It’s… cute, actually,” he added in a much quieter voice, and that was the final straw.

Cute. That was a new one. Minato was pretty sure that was the first time someone had ever used that word to describe him, and as horribly mortifying as it was, it made his heart do acrobatics in his chest. 

Cute. Akihiko thought he was cute. Or, well, technically he thought the horrible choked out nonsense noise he made was cute, but he chose to ignore that part so he didn’t go insane with embarrassment. 

He wasn’t just going to let him win like that, though, so gathering what little willpower he had left, Minato turned around to face him. It was a bit difficult with Akihiko’s arms still around his waist, but he managed. The first thing that Minato noticed was that Akihiko’s face was also flushed red, which made him feel just the slightest bit less embarrassed. The second thing he noticed was that, as he inched closer, Akihiko started to apologize, mumbling something about how he didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable and that it was supposed to be a compliment. If Minato wasn’t so hyper-focused on what he was about to do, he would have told him that it was okay. That he wanted him to say it again, actually. 

Okay, he definitely wouldn’t have been able to say that part. But he would've thought about it for a quarter of a second, which counted for something. 

The third and final thing that Minato noticed was how soft Akihiko’s lips were. They were chapped, yet somehow still impossibly soft. It wasn’t as if he had anything to compare it to, but as far as first kisses went, he knew deep in his heart that this was up there with the very best. Akihiko completely froze in place for a few seconds, making Minato wonder if he had gone a little too far, but as soon as he regained his senses, he kissed back. It was so, so gentle, like they were both terrified of pushing things too far and getting ahead of themselves. 

Minato didn’t know how long it lasted for. Maybe seconds, maybe hours, hell, maybe they had missed the battle all together. He didn’t know, and he didn’t particularly care. All he knew was that when he finally pulled away, gasping for breath as if he had been completely submerged underwater, he didn’t have it in him to turn back around. 

“Mm,” he mumbled as he rested his head against Akihiko’s chest, too worked up to come up with any sort of snarky ‘gotcha.’ Akihiko hesitated for a moment, clearly still in shock of what had just happened, before, of course, he brought his hand up to Minato’s hair. “You like my hair a lot,” he commented, and Akihiko gave a slight nod after a few seconds. 

“It’s… soft.” His voice was higher pitched than normal, and his face was such a deep shade of red that he almost looked sunburnt. Heh. Payback. “I didn’t think it would be. Since you dye it so much, I thought it would be fried.” Ah. Minato wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but since Akihiko seemed to have taken up petting his hair as a hobby, he figured it was probably the former.

“I know how to dye it properly.” He decided to leave out the fact that his hands were almost permanently stained some shade of blue. Akihiko didn’t need to know that part. He didn’t say anything in response, only continuing to pet his hair as he shut his eyes. Right, they were supposed to be going to sleep. Though Minato doubted he would be able to after everything that had just happened. 

He snuggled himself further against Akihiko’s chest. It was more comfortable than he expected, but even if it felt like sleeping on a bed of spikes and nails, Minato wouldn’t have moved an inch. 

“Goodnight, Minato.” Akihiko opened his eyes for just long enough to say that, flashing him a beautiful, loving smile. His name sounded so pretty coming from his mouth like that, and he would get to hear it for the rest of his life. Yeah, for the rest of his life. Because, somehow, he had a feeling that everything would be okay tomorrow. He didn’t have any proof, but he knew it would. Keeping each other safe, focusing on their own lives as much as each other’s… that was all they had to do. As long as they did that, everything would be fine. It had to be. 

Minato smiled. Yeah. Everything would be fine. He knew it would. 

“Goodnight,” he replied with a yawn. He could feel Akihiko’s heartbeat against his ear. He was here, he was alive, and it was going to stay that way, full moon be damned. “I love you.”

Akihiko replied without missing a beat. “I love you too.”