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On the helicopter, he hears murmurs between medics as they try to understand the properties of the poison and its cure. He swipes his thumb over her gloved knuckles where her hand is entangled with his. Her breath brushes his shoulder in steady intervals as she leans into him. Tangible proof that she is alive. He hears the words ‘incredible stroke of luck’. His stomach lurches.
She’s resting, body exhausted from working through the poison. Just hours ago, she had woken up from the medication-induced coma that she’d fallen into. Just hours ago, Makoto had run up to her, tears in his eyes and her blood still stained on his palm, and held her so tightly she’d had to step back to steady herself. He doesn’t think he’s ever cried that hard.
Now, tear ducts dry and head aching, he latches onto the knowledge that she is alive like it’s his own lifeline. As much hope as he has within himself, he’s unsure if he could live without his love.
The helicopter lands, and Makoto gently stirs Kyoko awake. She blinks slowly, her left eye covered by a gauze pad. She stands, not letting go of Makoto’s hand, and they step out of the aircraft.
“Would you like an escort to the hotel?” Byakuya asks. He’s planning on staying with the Future Foundation for the time being, just to make sure the whole thing doesn’t collapse. Makoto watches Hiro help Hina out of the helicopter, making sure she isn’t putting too much pressure on her leg.
“No, we can find our way. Thanks, though. You’ll give us a call when things start moving?”
“Of course. I might even enlist your assistance if need be.” Byakuya adjusts his glasses. “Though for now, all of you should focus on getting better. Make Hagakure there attend to all your needs.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice! I’m always here to help!” Hiro salutes awkward while leaning over for Hina to use his body for balance.
“Can we go already? I’m all for sentimental stuff but I seriously need to sit down.” Hina wobbles uncomfortably.
“She’s right, you all should go. I’ll talk to you soon, Naegi.”
Makoto nods as Byakuya closes the door to the helicopter. He turns around, looking at the street ahead of him. His baby sister is somewhere in this decrepit old city, waiting for him. Kyoko squeezes his hand. He looks at her, and she’s wearing a reassuring smile.
-
They find the hotel quickly, as it’s one of the only buildings with power. The minute he opens the creaking doors, Makoto is all but tackled.
“Makoto!” Komaru cries, sniffling and sobbing into the hug. Makoto begins to tear up as much as his dehydrated body can allow, and he hugs her back tightly.
“Komaru,” he chokes, “oh, god, I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Four years, to be exact.” Komaru giggles through her tears. She pulls away and wipes them from her flushed face. “Damn, you look awful. What happened at the Future Foundation?”
“A lot.” Makoto sighs. He notices abruptly that he’s looking up at her. “You got taller. Like, taller than me!”
Komaru puffs out her chest proudly. “Duh. Mom and Dad always said it was bound to happen!”
“That they did.” Makoto says as he realizes that everyone else has made their way inside the building. “Ah— Komaru, this is Aoi Asahina and Yasuhiro Hagakure.”
“You can call me Hina.” She says as she leans against the receptionist’s desk, taking weight off her leg.
“And I’m just Hiro.” He grins.
Komaru’s brows furrow like she’s trying to remember something, then shakes her head.
“And this… is Kyoko Kirigiri.” Makoto swallows, realizing in a humiliating moment that he hasn’t ever introduced his younger sister to his long-term partner.
“Alright. Asahina, Hagakure, and Kirigiri. Got it! I’ve got rooms for you all ready. None of the locks work anymore so you’ll just have to trust in your luck, I guess.” Komaru waves her hand in the air as she turns to lead them to their respective rooms.
All of their rooms are on the third floor, as the second floor is trashed and the first floor is all amenities. Once everyone is familiarized with the layout of the hotel and the location of each person’s room, they all retreat to their own to get some much-needed rest. Hiro makes it clear that his phone will be on all night if anyone needs anything.
While everyone is slipping into their rooms, Kyoko doesn’t hesitate to follow Makoto into his. The second the door shuts behind them, Kyoko makes her way to the bed and sits on it, cradling her head. The mattress squeaks under her weight, mixing with the pained sigh she utters.
“Are you okay?” Makoto is at her side in an instant, a reassuring hand rubbing slow circles on her back.
“Yes. Just— a headache. That poison did a number on me.”
“I figured.” Makoto murmurs, not voicing his thoughts that he’s just glad she’s here to have a headache. “How about we take a shower? Get all this blood washed off.”
“Hmm.” Kyoko looks over at him, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Are you sure you aren’t trying something?”
Makoto feels himself blush hot and bright as he pulls his hands up in surrender.
“N-no! That’s not what I meant! I—“
“Relax!” Kyoko laughs, shoving him gently. “I was joking. I know your intentions are pure.”
Her laugh stirs warmth within Makoto’s chest. The laugh he loves; the one he never thought he’d hear again. She grins at him, teasing him playfully even now. Nothing has changed. She is still his Kyoko.
“You got me.” Makoto lets out a relieved sigh.
“Sorry. You look too cute when you’re flustered, it’s hard to resist.” She takes his hand in hers, pulling it to her lips and kissing his knuckles. “So how about that shower?”
Makoto starts running the shower, allowing the water to warm, while Kyoko makes a quick trip down the hall to grab some of the clothes Komaru had left in the room she’d prepared for her. As ruined as most of Towa City is, Komaru and Toko had been able to scavenge a good amount from abandoned convenience stores and malls.
Makoto catches his reflection in the mirror as the bathroom begins to fill with steam. He still has blood crusted into his hair from when his head was bleeding, and his pants leg also has dried blood soaked into it. He peels his pants off without thinking, wanting the gross material away from his body as quickly as possible. He begins unwrapping the bandages around his leg wound.
“That doesn’t look good.” Kyoko hums as she closes the door behind her. Makoto tosses the bloody bandages into the trash.
“Yeah. It’s fine though, I hardly feel it!”
Kyoko sets two fluffy, white robes onto the countertop and reaches behind her head to take out her ponytail. The two of them undress and step into the tub, Kyoko going first and humming contentedly as the hot water hits her skin. Her hair darkens as it becomes wet, appearing as more of a dark periwinkle than the typical pastel lavender. She immediately begins combing her fingers through her hair, rinsing away the dried blood. Makoto reaches up to take her hands in his own, the rough texture of her scars contrasting the smooth hair between her fingers.
“Can I..?” Makoto asks, brushing her wet hair out of her face. Her left eye is still bloodshot and not opening all the way, but her gaze softens nonetheless.
“Please.”
She moves her hands from her hair to Makoto’s waist as he reaches around her for the small generic (and probably expired) bottle of hotel shampoo. He rubs it between his palms while he and Kyoko swap places, the hot water raining down on him instead. Kyoko bows her head to rest on Makoto’s shoulder as he begins to rub the shampoo into her hair. He starts at the top of her head, making sure to scrub all the way to her roots. She makes soft, contented noises as he massages her scalp. Makoto knows that Kyoko is closed off around most people, and it brings him a strange sense of joy being one of the only people who gets to see her this unguarded.
Makoto finishes washing Kyoko’s hair, and she applies the conditioner herself. Makoto rinses his own hair while she does this, trying to scrub out any of the blood. He has more in his than Kyoko had, along with a relatively fresh head wound, so it takes the entire time Kyoko combs the conditioner into her hair. When he wipes the water from his eyes, he sees Kyoko with shampoo in her hands, beckoning him over. He obeys, stepping into her space. She looks at him with so much affection it almost pains him to look away, but when she begins to massage his scalp, he can’t help but close his eyes.
She is so gentle with him. Not that he’s never known gentleness, but the proximity of it is unique to his relationship with Kyoko. She drags her fingernails through his hair, sending shivers down Makoto’s spine. She swipes her thumb across his forehead when some suds start to make their way to his eyes. This sort of intimacy is something he couldn’t have even conceptualized just years ago. It’s almost unreal to him, that someone could make him feel this much.
And to think, he’d almost lost that.
Makoto opens his eyes wide, accompanied by a small gasp. Kyoko looks at him with a puzzled expression. He reaches his hands, now slightly shaky, to her face. His right palm touches the same spot it had earlier today when he had thought her dead. Instead of fresh blood streaking across his hand, now he feels the warmth of her skin from the hot shower. Wet, not from blood or tears, but from the water they both bathe under.
“Are you okay?” She asks, and how can he answer that? How can he tell her that nothing will ever not be okay again because she’s here, and she’s alive, but that he’s also terrified that any second now he is going to wake up to this all being a dream? Is he dreaming? Is Kyoko still dead, on the cold floor of that building? Has the poison overtaken her body, stopping her heart and her brain?
“You’re here.” Makoto chokes. He says it like a statement, but it’s more of a question. Is she here? Or is he imagining all of this?
“I’m here, Makoto.” Kyoko affirms. She presses her forehead to his, mixing the products in their hair. “Nothing will take me from you again.”
She promises, with her hands securing him from the back of his head. How can he not believe her? He tilts his head up and to the side, slotting their mouths together for a kiss. It’s slow, soft, chaste. He realizes that it’s the first time he’s kissed her since she’s come back to him. He kisses her again, this time with more vigor. She smiles into it, understanding his intent. She knows him like the back of her hand. When they break the kiss, they keep their foreheads pressed together. Makoto latches onto the feeling of her hands petting his soapy head, and of her breath on his upper lip.
They finish up their shower quickly, realizing they are taking up more hot water than they should. Makoto helps Kyoko replace the gauze over her eye, and she helps him replace his various bandages. Makoto retreats into the room to fold their dirty clothes into a stack for tomorrow’s laundry trip. As he finishes, Kyoko comes out of the bathroom and crawls into bed. Makoto follows suit.
She truly looks like an angel. The white robe brings out the warmth in her skin, and Makoto reaches for her hand before he even realizes. She hasn’t put her gloves back on, as she isn’t planning on going out again tonight. Makoto is the only person she allows to touch her bare hands. She’d told him a lifetime ago that she’d only ever reveal her scars to those she sees as family. He takes her hand to his lips and leaves a careful kiss on her palm. He has seen and felt these hands more times than he can count at this point, but he never stops appreciating the trust in him that she shows each time.
“You never stopped wearing your heart on your sleeve.” Kyoko muses as she tugs on Makoto’s hand, pulling him closer.
“You like it.” Makoto grins, leaning on his elbow. He reaches over to brush a strand of damp hair out of her face.
“I do,” she sighs, “Your openness always intrigued me. That’s not much of a secret.”
“Intrigued?” Makoto asks as Kyoko’s hand finds his hip. “Just say you love me, jeez.”
Kyoko smiles affectionately. “I love you, Makoto.”
No matter how many times she says it, years into their relationship, those three words never fail to get his heart racing.
“I love you, too.” Makoto breathes. Kyoko leans forward and kisses him.
“You know what I love about you?” Kyoko asks, mouth just barely not touching Makoto’s. “No matter what life throws at you, you don’t change. You mature and grow, but you’re still the same sweet boy I met when I was seventeen.”
“Kyoko…” He leans in to kiss her again. She’s not one to mince words. She says what she means; she always has. Her words come straight from her heart. People will call her cold, but they don’t understand that what they mistake for callousness is just passion stripped down to its barest form.
“You know how much you mean to me?” Kyoko asks, voice hardly above a whisper.
She asks him, and his mind goes racing back to the moment he found her dead on the floor. The moment he’d realized that she’d sacrificed her own life to save his. The moment he’d realized that the reason she hadn’t said anything was to protect him from his own love for her. If she hadn’t survived, her last action would have been out of love for Makoto.
“Yes,” he chokes, “I know.”
“Come here.” Kyoko pulls him even closer. They’re one step away from being inside each others’ skin. Makoto presses his ear to Kyoko’s chest, listening to her heart beat through her robe. She’s alive. She’s alive she’s alive she’s alive.
Listening to her heart beating, Makoto slowly becomes more assured that she will still be with him when he wakes in the morning. Her fingers in his hair only reaffirm that. But just in case, he wraps his arms around her. He’ll hold her for as long as he’s allowed.