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Death - XIII
The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate. Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope. In short, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Attaining one’s dream requires a stern will and unfailing determination.
The silent voice within one’s heart whispers the most profound wisdom.
Celebrate life’s grandeur, its brilliance, and its magnificence.
Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer.
It is indeed a precious gift to understand the forces that guide oneself.
There is both joy and wonder in coming to understand the hearts of others.
One of the greatest blessings attained from the gift of life is the freedom to pursue one’s personal goals.
To find the one true path, one must seek guidance amidst uncertainty.
It requires great courage to look within oneself and forge one’s own path.
Ever-present alongside time is fortune, cruel and unflinching.
One needs strength to endure and rise above suffering and torment.
In the face of unavoidable disaster lies the opportunity to search for redemption.
Beyond the journey taken lies the absolute end. It matters not who the individual is. One thing is always certain: death awaits all.
It’s a shadow that lingers, inescapable, and inevitable. He learned that the hard way.
Makoto’s small hand clutched his father’s tightly as they descended the staircase, his curious eyes darting upward. His father, a man whose slicked-back blue hair and piercing deep-blue eyes mirrored Makoto’s own, gave him a reassuring smile.
“You know Tsubaki-chan, right?” his father asked, his voice warm and familiar.
Makoto nodded, his lips forming a soft pout. “Kotone-chan’s mom,” he replied with a hint of curiosity.
“That’s right. Well, we have a surprise for you two,” his father added, his tone teasingly secretive.
Makoto tilted his head, his brows furrowing. “What is it?” he asked, but his father only chuckled, refusing to give anything away.
As they stepped into the living room, a cozy warmth enveloped them. Standing near the couch was a woman with flowing brown hair and soft, chestnut eyes that lit up as they entered. She greeted them with a radiant smile that carried a quiet kindness.
Beside her, a young girl barely able to contain her excitement bounced on her toes. Her matching brown hair swayed with her movements, and her eyes sparkled with boundless energy. Before Makoto could even process what was happening, she darted toward him, clasping his hands with a grip that belied her size.
“Ma-kun! Ma-kun!” she chirped, practically vibrating with joy. “Mom said there’s a surprise for us! Isn’t it exciting?”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Makoto couldn’t help but blink in surprise before cracking a small, tentative smile. Whatever this surprise was, it had to be something special.
“She’s been bouncing up and down all day,” Tsubaki giggled.
Makoto’s father ruffled the kids’ heads. “Surprises should be good, right, Kotone?” he teased.
She nodded vigorously. “Mhm, tell us, tell us, tell us .”
Mister Yuki chuckled and scooped them up under his arms. He sat them down and took a spot beside Tsubaki, who was fidgeting with restrained glee.
“Before we tell you the surprise,” she started. “Kotone, how would you feel if Makoto became your brother?”
The room fell silent as the weight of her words settled over them. Makoto’s breath caught in his throat, and his wide eyes darted between the two adults. They revealed the engagement rings resting on their fingers.
“Tsubaki-chan and I are getting married,” Makoto’s father stated.
Their parents were getting married. The kids let the words ring in their heads.
Kotone’s face lit up with unrestrained joy. “Really?!” she squealed, throwing her arms in the air and cheering.
Makoto, however, sat frozen, the revelation sinking in. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile—one of the brightest he had ever worn. Tsubaki had always been kind to him, treating him with a warmth that made her feel like family even before now. And Kotone… her energy and presence had always filled their house with life. The thought of them becoming a permanent part of his world made his chest swell with happiness.
But before he could savor the moment, Kotone’s expression shifted into one of mischievous glee—an all-too-familiar look. She lunged at him without warning, tackling him with a force that sent them tumbling to the floor.
Makoto braced himself for the impact, but the moment his back hit the ground, everything changed.
The warmth of the living room dissolved into cold metal and chaos. His breath hitched as his body became crushed between mangled steel and shattered glass, the weight pressing down on him unbearable. The world around him was filled with suffocating smoke and the deafening roar of flames.
He reached out, his fingers trembling as they sought Kotone’s hand, but what he found instead was a palm torn by jagged shards of glass. His vision swam, and he forced himself to turn toward her.
The sight made his stomach drop. Blood ran down her tiny face, her chestnut eyes vacant and unseeing. Her body was riddled with debris, her once-vivid spirit extinguished in an instant.
Makoto’s heart pounded in his ears as he strained to look back toward the front of the car. His father and stepmother sat eerily still, their forms silhouetted against the growing inferno that consumed the vehicle. No movement, no signs of life—just stillness.
With a desperate surge of will, Makoto clawed his way toward the crumpled door, forcing it open with trembling hands. He dragged himself out, coughing and choking on the acrid smoke.
Collapsing onto the cold, snowy pavement, he turned back to the burning wreckage. Flames devoured the vehicle, engulfing everything—his father, his stepmother, Kotone. His family.
Only he had survived, and the rest was history.
Makoto Yuki understood death far better than most. As he sat alone on the rooftop of the Iwatodai Dorm, the faint scent of incense from the nearby shrine mingled with the cool evening breeze. Above him, the sky bled hues of red and orange, the dying light of the sun casting long shadows over the city.
In his trembling hands, he held three faded photographs, their edges frayed and worn from years of being handled in secret moments of grief. His impassive mask—a constant shield he wore so well—cracked ever so slightly. Beneath it lay a flicker of sorrow, a weight he had carried in solitude for as long as he could remember.
The first photograph showed him as a boy, standing proudly beside his father, their matching blue hair and smiles a testament to their bond. The second captured a fleeting moment of happiness: Tsubaki, smiling warmly as she held him and Kotone close. The third, taken after the wedding, showed them all together—his father, his stepmother, and Kotone—his new family, complete and full of hope.
Makoto clutched the pictures tightly, as though letting go of them would mean losing those memories forever.
Death didn’t scare him. How could it? He had walked hand-in-hand with its shadow too many times to fear it now. It had taken everyone he had ever loved, leaving him behind to navigate the empty void it created. Once, he had even wished for it—longed for death’s cold embrace to take him away, to free him from the relentless ache that lingered in his chest.
But for reasons he couldn’t understand, it hadn’t come for him. Instead, it lingered, always close but never claiming him. It left him to exist in the hollow silence of its aftermath, to bear the weight of memories and a life he never asked for.
As the breeze picked up, Makoto stared at the photos, his grip tightening. The pain hadn’t lessened with time, but it had shaped him, carving out the person he had become—a boy who knew death too intimately to fear it but lived on despite its presence.
To the world, Makoto Yuki was a mystery—a quiet, detached figure wrapped in an impenetrable veil of indifference. Few, if any, could have guessed at the pain he carried, the scars etched into his heart by a tragedy that still haunted him. He never spoke of the fire that had stolen everything from him: the blazing wreckage that had consumed his parents and little sister in an instant. Those memories were seared into his soul, as vivid and relentless as the flames themselves.
And yet, he walked forward.
His friends knew little of his past. They saw his stoic demeanor, his calm in the face of danger, but they didn’t know the scars he bore. He kept those wounds hidden, too raw and personal to be shared. Yet, no matter how deeply he buried his grief, it was a part of him—as intrinsic as the breath he drew.
Makoto had long accepted that death was his constant companion. He didn’t fear it; if anything, he welcomed the thought of its eventual embrace. To him, death was not an end but a reunion—a chance to see the family he had lost waiting for him on the other side.
But life, unpredictable as ever, had given him something he hadn’t expected: a new kind of family. His friends—flawed, chaotic, and reckless—had somehow become precious to him. They pulled him from the darkness he thought he’d always inhabit. Even if he never revealed the full weight of his grief, even if his secrets remained locked away, Makoto found himself cherishing them more than he thought possible.
And then, there was her .
The girl who had become his anchor, his light in the overwhelming void. She didn’t push, didn’t pry, but her presence brought him an odd sense of peace he had almost forgotten existed. For her, and for the others, Makoto knew he would fight to the bitter end.
For now, though, he let himself linger in the moment. Sitting on the dorm’s rooftop, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, he felt something he hadn’t in years: freedom. It wasn’t enough to erase the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still alive—and that, for now, was enough.
As if sensing the heavy thoughts weighing on Makoto’s heart, his Persona—Thanatos, the embodiment of the Death Arcana—let out a low, ominous growl in his mind. The dark warrior, with its haunting aura and spectral presence, had ties to his family’s fate. Strange how life had turned; he now wielded the same power that, in a twisted sense, had once marked his loss. Thanatos wasn’t just a Persona—it was a grim reminder of the vicious, unbreakable cycle he had lived through. Death lingered in every corner of his life, shaping him, haunting him. And now, it was part of him.
The God of Death didn’t need words. Its mere existence spoke volumes, and its actions conveyed truths Makoto wasn’t always ready to confront. Every growl, every shadowy ripple in his mind, seemed to echo a singular message: death waits for no one.
Despite the weight of Thanatos’s presence, Makoto didn’t consider himself insane. He was rational, grounded, and perhaps too familiar with the nature of death to fear it. If anything, his encounters with it had given him an almost supernatural clarity—a heightened awareness that often unsettled those around him.
When he first arrived in Iwatodai, that clarity whispered to him that something was terribly wrong. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if the city itself was holding its breath. He couldn’t explain it to anyone; who could possibly understand the strange sense of foreboding that had followed him since childhood?
But even as he recognized the feeling, Makoto knew he didn’t fully understand it himself. It wasn’t fear—it was inevitability. Like Thanatos, it lingered, waiting for the right moment to emerge.
The soft creak of the rooftop door interrupted his thoughts, and a familiar voice, tentative but warm, broke through.
“Makoto-kun?”
He turned, sliding the worn photographs back into his pocket. Standing at the doorway was Yukari Takeba, the girl who had found her way into his guarded heart.
“Yes?” he responded.
Yukari’s eyes locked onto Makoto’s. She saw the story in his orbs. “How are you feeling?”
He looked back at the horizon, his gaze distant and unfocused. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “It’s cold out here. You should head inside where it’s warm.”
She scoffed, shaking her head gently. “I can say the same to you. You’ve been out here for hours now. I think it’s time for you to come back in.”
Makoto knew she was right, but part of him resisted. He didn’t want to leave just yet.
“I need a little longer,” he sounded apologetic.
Yukari didn’t back away. Instead, she stepped closer, a delicate determination brimming in her eyes. She stood behind her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his shoulder, hugging him tightly.
The action surprised Makoto. “Yukari?”
She shushed him, resting her chin atop his head. “You’ve always been there for me even when I snapped at you. Let me return the love you’ve given me.”
For a moment, he stayed silent, letting her presence wash over him like a balm against the cold and the ache in his heart. Slowly, his hand moved to rest over hers, an unspoken acknowledgment of her unwavering support.
“You’re not going to like what I’m going to say,” he warned her.
She fetched a spare chair and positioned herself beside him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll slap you afterwards.”
She huddled closer to share warmth as Makoto began speaking.
“I hate myself,” he started. He waited for Yukari to slap him but the strike never came.
“ That’s how you choose to start? Why would you say that?” she asked instead.
His gaze met the floor. “It’s my fault Mitsuru-senpai’s father died.”
Yukari’s breath caught, but she stopped herself from reacting immediately. “That’s not true and you know it.”
“I shouldve known it was a trap. Like with Aragaki-senpai, I should’ve known something was wrong, but I didn’t. My ignorance got important people killed.”
“Makoto-kun, you didn’t cause any of this. Ikutsuki was a scumbag, and that shirtless zombie of Strega is no different. You can’t blame yourself for the choices or cruelty of others. You’ve done everything you could, more than anyone else ever would.”
She gave him time to process.
“Death follows me wherever I go,” he stated.
She chose her words carefully. “The incident happened in March, right?”
“…Yeah. I still wonder why I’m the only survivor. I never told you guys this, but I actually have a sister. Or… had one anyway. She also died in the incident. Her name was Kotone, and she was the exact opposite of me.” A faint smile tugged at his lips as he recalled her. “High-spirited, kind, always cheerful. You’d have loved her. She’d fit in a lot better than I ever did.”
It was as if he wasn’t sitting on the rooftop but in another time and place, lost in memories of a life that now felt impossibly distant—almost like it had belonged to someone else entirely.
Yukari continued to hold him, her hand tightening around his.
“She sounds wonderful,” she said softly. “And knowing you, I’m sure she would’ve been proud of the person you’ve become.”
Makoto let out a laugh—not one of humor, but a hollow, bitter sound that sent a chill down Yukari’s spine. It was a side of him she had never seen.
“I guess I’m the only one who thinks that,” he said, his voice laced with a resentment that startled her. His hands gripped his knees tightly, knuckles turning white as he fought to keep control. But his calm facade was crumbling, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“It should’ve been me, not her,” he whispered, each word carrying the weight of years of guilt and regret. “I’m the one who should’ve died in that car fire.”
Yukari’s heart sank. It ached for him as the stoic mask he wore fell away to reveal the pain he’d carried alone for so long. His emotions reached a fever pitch, and for the first time, Yukari saw Makoto cry. Tears began to stream down his face, his body trembling as the dam he’d held up for years finally gave way.
“Oh, Makoto,” she let him cry in her bosom. She let him release the pain he’d buried, cradling him like he was the most fragile thing in the world.
“So even you have a breaking point,” she murmured softly, stroking his hair as he sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” Makoto choked out between tears. He felt weak, pathetic even. The leader of S.E.E.S., their steady rock, now crying his heart out in his girlfriend’s arms.
“No,” Yukari retorted. “Don’t apologize for being human, Makoto-kun. Not to me. Not ever.”
She held him until his sobbing slowed. By then, the sun vanished, and the moon shined upon them.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
“I do have something else to share with you.”
He remained in the comfort of her embrace for a moment longer before raising a hand. His abilities as a Wild Card were unique among their group. His Personas came in the form of cards. He cycled through them and pulled one from the air.
Yukari watched in awe as he worked. She always found his powers strange but unique, and as she stared at the card Makoto pulled, her eyes widened, a chill running down her spine.
“Remember this one?” he asked, his tone gentle yet weighted.
She recognized it instantly.
The memory washed over her like a cold wave. She couldn’t forget that full moon, the night Makoto awakened. Orpheus had been summoned, only to be violently torn apart, and in its place emerged Thanatos. The mere presence of the Persona had been overwhelming, like Death itself had arrived to claim vengeance.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I remember.”
Makoto gave a faint nod. “I need you to bear with me. There’s… a lot to explain.”
Yukari looked at him thoughtfully, then stood and offered her hand. “Hold on. Let’s go to my room. It’s more comfortable there.”
Makoto smirked slightly, taking her hand as he stood. “Aren’t you bold?”
“Shut up, like you don’t enjoy cuddling on my bed,” she shot back with a playful glare.
“Says the girl who can’t go five minutes without wanting to make out,” he retorted, a flicker of humor returning to his voice.
“Hurry up already,” Yukari stated, tugging his hand as they made their way downstairs before adding, “not my fault you’re a good kisser.”
After Makoto and Yukari had started dating, it hadn’t taken long for their friends to find out. Junpei had been the first, catching them snuggled up on the couch one evening. Naturally, he wasted no time spreading the news to everyone else, which led to an awkward but slightly amusing lecture from Mitsuru about public displays of affection.
The couple, however, didn’t mind. They loved to cuddle, and of course, Yukari threatened to castrate Junpei if he interrupted cuddle time again.
Once in Yukari’s room, Makoto leaned back against the bedframe. He greatly preferred Yukari’s room over his own. His quarters were bland. He meant to spruce it up but never found the time.
“Do you remember when I first came here, I asked about a boy who might live in the dorm?”
She nodded, bracing herself for whatever he was about to share.
“His name is Pharos,” Makoto began, his tone thoughtful. “He appeared when I first set foot in the dorm. After I awakened Orpheus, he’d visit me during the Dark Hour to warn me about the full-moon Shadows before we even knew the moon was connected. After we defeated the Hanged Man, he came to me again—outside the Dark Hour. He thanked me before disappearing. And because our bond reached its peak, I gained the ability to create Thanatos.”
Yukari’s brow furrowed slightly as she processed his words. “Is that how you’re able to get new Personas? You… make them?”
“Not exactly,” Makoto said with a small laugh. “I fuse them with other Personas.” He paused, glancing at her with a teasing smirk. “You know how I sometimes just stand in a corner for long periods?”
She nodded slowly, realization dawning on her. “You were fusing Personas together?”
“There’s a room I can enter where it happens. That’s a whole other story,” he admitted with a shrug. “But just so you know, I’m not just zoning out.”
Yukari crossed her arms, arching a brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“You also apply.” He cycled through his cards and revealed the Persona that came from Yukari’s love.
The card displayed an elegant figure surrounded by a serene glow, radiating an aura of love and compassion.
“This is Cybele,” he revealed, his voice softer now. “She came from you. From your love.”
Yukari’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Her eyes lingered on the card, taking in the image of the Persona that symbolized their bond.
“Makoto…” she finally whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. “You… never told me you could do that.”
His smile expanded. “I worked hard to get this one. That way, even if you’re not on the frontlines, you’re still with me—always fighting by my side.”
She playfully shoved his shoulder, trying to mask her emotions. “You’re such a sap sometimes, you know that?”
Makoto chuckled, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Only for you.”
He pulled her closer, letting his forehead rest against hers.
They spent the rest of the evening in quiet comfort, savoring the warmth of each other’s presence. Tonight was theirs, and for now, that was all that mattered.
“I’m glad you’re still alive,” Yukari stated. “And I know your family thinks so too.”
He gazed up at the ceiling, the weight of Yukari’s presence on top of him.
“You think so?”
She nuzzled his chest. “I know so. They’d be proud of everything you’ve done—of how strong you are, how much you’ve endured, and how much you care about the people around you. I know I am.”
She would never forget how much he did for her.
“You always know what to say, don’t you?” he teased.
“Well, I did learn a thing or two from you. When it’s about you, I mean every word.”
Makoto closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.
“I love you.”
Yukari grinned. “I love you too.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time—hope.