Archive of Our Own

Around six and a half hours before he was scheduled to die, Ryoji Mochizuki decided to take the train to his own funeral. Now that he had remembered his power as Thanatos the Appriser, Death Itself, Avatar of the End, so on and so forth, he had little need for the conveniences of his human life—he could basically appear wherever he wanted, but that was a lot less fun, and he didn't get to look out the window on the way there, and usually it freaked people out. And anyway, in his time as a human boy he had found that he liked walking, and he liked the long train ride across the sea. It had become a sort of ritual, now, after spending one blissful month as a high school student. Rituals were good. As he recalled, they helped humans to maintain a sense of normalcy and a feeling like they had some form of control over their fates. It was a nice thought.

He took his time on the way to the dorm. The evening sky overhead was suitably ominous, mottled with cloudy splotches of white and gray, and the smells of smoke and sea salt hung thickly in the air. A group of middle schoolers loitered in front of the stairs to the train station, chattering at each other excitedly, and fell conspicuously silent as he passed them by. Ryoji waved.

Even on a gloomy day like this, Tatsumi Port Island was full of blue. It was a city of sea and sky. All around were the sounds of people moving about their own lives, each one rich with details that Ryoji would never know, but Thanatos might, someday. A breeze kicked up in his wake as though to urge him closer still to his fate. Gulls wheeled in lazy circles overhead.

All in all, it was a perfectly fine day to die.

Ryoji had decided as soon as he realized he would have to meet his end that he would do so with no regrets; it wasn't as though he deserved them, especially not as Death, which meant that most of the time they were probably his fault. He'd shepherded away plenty of souls that had been filled to the point of overflowing with them, crying out in anguish as they were torn from the hearts they had worked so hard to cultivate and swallowed up by his own inhuman one.

What was the weight of a heart, he wondered? He certainly wasn't human, but he had been, for a little while. His own heart was surely a sight to behold, riddled as it was with loose threads and ripped seams. So—would Ryoji die a proper death, as humans did, or would he simply disappear? He thought he might like it if Minato got to decide that, too. It felt intimate, somehow, to place that patchwork heart in Minato’s hands and allow him to do as he liked. Was it a bad thing that Ryoji found himself looking forward to it?

It would be night, by then. Minato might wrap both hands around his neck, eyes darkening with resolve as he waited for Ryoji's heartbeat to slow until it slipped away. Then maybe he’d bring those hands up to cup Ryoji's face gently as he died, thumbs tracing along his jaw or his cheekbone almost like a kiss, and that would be the last thing he'd ever see: Minato, looking only at him and wreathed splendidly in the light of the full moon. What kind of expression would he wear? Would he be indifferent? Determined? Maybe even a little sad?

But he wasn't doing this for his own sake. In fact, a real human would probably have been scared or upset in the face of their own death—but, well, it was Minato, and Ryoji was Death, which meant in some ways that Death was also Minato (which Ryoji thought was wonderfully poetic!), and Death—Ryoji, rather—liked Minato very much. All this was to say he couldn't possibly find a way to dislike the thought of Minato killing him. Anything Minato did sounded good to him, really.

For ten years they had been as one, together in body and soul. He knew the rhythm of Minato's heartbeat and the fullness of his every breath. Death was often said to be the brother of sleep; as Pharos, he had slept peacefully for all those years as his errant soul lay cradled in the cavity of Minato's chest, and he decided that it might be nice if dying was like returning there. Minato had been his beginning, after all. It was only right for him to be the one to end things, too.

Minato knew him in ways that no one else could—they understood each other so fully and instinctively that it had baffled them both at first. So Minato would surely understand, Ryoji thought, as he climbed the steps to the dorm's front door. He would, of course, make the right decision, and he would raise his Evoker to Ryoji's forehead just as the Dark Hour descended upon them, blanketing the whole world in shadow. The metal would be cool against his skin. Yes, and then… he would look Ryoji in the eye, lips moving soundlessly in farewell, and pull the trigger. And Ryoji's existence would come to an end, just like that. It was simple. Painless, even! And the Minato in his daydream took to his duty as gracefully as always. He sighed to himself pensively, but he did not cry. He would know, in his heart, that this had been the right thing to do. That Ryoji’s death had brought his friends a kind of peace. Minato would remain there in the moonlight for a while, turning over the Evoker in his hands. Then, he would bring it to his lips in a rare moment of weakness, thinking of Ryoji one last time before his memory slipped away for good, a single teardrop trailing almost cinematically down his cheek as he…

Um, he… Hmm. As he sat on the floor? In the lounge with a crowd of teenagers fussing over him?

“...try to get in contact with one of our doctors, but the holiday will make it difficult to find someone willing and able to see him on such short notice,” Mitsuru was saying. “To say nothing of the fact that we don't even know what might be wrong with him.”

“I get that, but…” Akihiko sighed. “Yamagishi. You got anything?”

Fuuka was crouched next to Minato, holding a hand gingerly to his forehead as her eyes flashed with the telltale glow of Juno's second sight. “Not yet… I'm sorry. I need more time.”

As she hovered uncertainly at his side, Yukari's voice floated out of the pantry. “Guys, I seriously don't think any of this stuff is gonna work. This is Dark Hour junk, it's not like we can just give him an ibuprofen.” A moment later, she stuck her head around the corner, brow furrowed. “...Can we?”

“It can't hurt to try,” said Mitsuru tiredly.

“If you say so, senpai.”

She emerged from the kitchenette with a battered first-aid kit and set it down on the rug. Ken knelt next to it and began rummaging through its contents with Mitsuru, putting aside little bottles and medicine capsules while she squinted at the tiny print on each label; Akihiko jogged back upstairs to his room, saying something about protein powder. Fuuka murmured something to herself, and her Persona sent a pulse of soothing light rippling along the walls, though it was hard to say whether this was meant to heal Minato or just diagnose him—the only one who really understood how Fuuka's power worked was Fuuka herself. Junpei, Aigis, and Koromaru were notably absent, but if their leader was in trouble, they wouldn't be far behind.

A fully-mobilized SEES was truly a force to reckon with; each of Minato's trusted companions was as a gear turning in a well-oiled machine. They had all long grown accustomed to the razor-thin schedules that allowed them to keep up with high school, club activities, and their frequent trips into Tartarus, and it was clear in times of rest and crisis alike that they got antsy when they didn't have some kind of job to do. This was perhaps not the best mindset to have for the rest, but for the crisis it wasn't bad at all. Even now, they all moved with an awareness of one another that could only have been sharpened to such a degree by the endless climb through Tartarus.

It was all really quite impressive—not just their flawless teamwork, but their incredible tunnel vision.

“Hi,” said Ryoji.

Yukari shrieked and dropped a box of cold medicine on his foot.

"Ow," he added belatedly, remembering that he was supposed to make a show of pain.

“Mochizuki,” said Mitsuru, sounding oddly relieved. “It's… good to see you again. We need to put this matter with Nyx on hold for the moment. Do you know anything about this?”

She spoke with such conviction that it took Ryoji's brain a second to catch up with the fact that she had just told him to put a pin in the apocalypse. He looked at Minato. “What’s the matter?”

“We have no idea. He's been like a zombie all day, it's weird," said Yukari. "He's got a fever, but he won't talk to us or eat anything we give him. I thought he was just tired of people again, but Fuuka brought her Persona out to check, and…” She trailed off.

Fuuka said softly, “I think he's been sneaking off to Tartarus all week. Alone. And something happened last night that left him like this. But Juno and I don't know what it could be, or how to fix it.”

As he drew closer, Ryoji could feel that she was right. The smell of death clung to Minato, which would usually be no cause for concern except for the fact that he, Death Itself, was out here, and had been for the past two months. He approached Minato cautiously, placing a hand gently on one shoulder when he didn't react.

“Minato?” he tried. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

For a moment, nothing. Ryoji worried he wasn't even conscious, but then Minato shifted, raising his head just a bit and blinking sleepily as he met Ryoji's eyes. He smiled.

“Pharos,” he said softly. “I missed you.”

"What?" Before Ryoji had a chance to figure out what that meant, Minato had taken hold of the end of his scarf and pulled. “Whoa, hey, wait a—”

“A-are you alright?!” cried Fuuka.

Ryoji tried his best to give her a weak thumbs up from where he was now sprawled awkwardly out on the carpet, but his limbs were kind of tangled and he couldn't be sure which finger he was using exactly. Minato had helpfully aimed so that Ryoji's head would land in the middle of his lap, narrowly avoiding what he imagined would have been either a nasty concussion or a rather gruesome end at the hands of the common room table. Ryoji had come here hoping to die, that was true, but—Well, he was really hoping to go with a tiny bit more decorum. Surely Minato wouldn't begrudge him that.

Now, Minato was looking down at him intently as he flipped himself over with some effort; his cheeks were flushed faintly pink. Before he could stop himself, Ryoji was reaching out to brush away the curtain of dark hair falling into his eyes, and Minato leaned contentedly into his touch. It would have been cute, if it wasn’t all so baffling. Ryoji frowned to himself as he sat up.

He didn't get very far, because Minato narrowed his eyes and pushed him back down.

“Um," said Ryoji. "Minato?”

“What's he doing?” asked Ken.

“I'm… not sure.” That was Mitsuru. “He's not what I would call talkative even without this mystery status condition, so…”

"You okay, Ryoji-kun?" said Yukari.

"Yes," said Ryoji, a little too loudly. One of Minato's hands was now planted firmly in the middle of his chest; the other had moved to cradle the back of his head, where Minato moved his thumb in hypnotizing circles along the soft skin on the side of his neck.

"Are you sure?"

Ryoji let out a strangled noise.

“Oh! That's it!” exclaimed Fuuka. The gentle glow of Juno's aura dispersed with a sound like a bubble popping. “Of course, he's…!"

“What is it, Yamagishi? Did you find something?”

She closed her eyes. “Yes, I'm sure of it.” When she turned back to them, she had gone a little pink. “Um, senpai? I don't think it's quite as dangerous as we all thought. He's, um, he’s just charmed.”

“What?”

Fuuka nodded sheepishly. “He wasn’t displaying any of the usual symptoms, so it didn't even cross my mind. But as soon as he saw Ryoji-kun, his heart rate spiked. And, um… Well…”

She looked back over at Minato, who had already found a way to drag the rest of Ryoji's body into his lap. His arms were locked securely around Ryoji’s torso, hands folded gently over his heart; their legs were tangled together, Minato's knee drawn up perilously close to Ryoji's groin, and Ryoji was trying very, very, very hard to stay absolutely still. As the rest of SEES turned slowly to look at them in varying degrees of disbelief, Minato rested his chin atop Ryoji's head and closed his eyes.

Because Ryoji was God's little joke, it was at this precise moment that the front door flew open, and he could do nothing but watch in silent, petrified horror as Aigis charged inside and launched herself over the side of the couch.

“Ryoji Mochizuki. You are to cease all physical contact with Minato-san, effective immediately. If you fail to comply within the next thirteen seconds, I will open fire.”

“Please don't do that,” Ryoji squeaked.

Thankfully, Junpei came barreling through the open door with a shout soon after, arms outstretched to support a colorful array of shopping bags. Koromaru entered behind him at a respectable trot, carrying a single toothbrush in his mouth.

“Aigis! Hold up! You…” Junpei doubled over with an exhausted wheeze. “Dunno what’s going on, but you can’t be shootin’ Ryoji! I’m sure whatever it is, he didn’t mean to—” He cut himself off when he saw Minato and Ryoji tangled up on the floor. His mouth fell open for about three seconds, until he seemed to realize he was gawking and scrunched his jaw back together so fast it made an audible click.

“Good to see you again, Junpei-kun,” said Ryoji helplessly. Minato cracked an eye open to glance at Aigis, yawned, and did absolutely nothing to remedy the situation.

“Hey, man, you too. So, phew. Wow. Are you guys, actually, like…” Junpei waggled his eyebrows. “You know…?”

“Ugh, Junpei! Isn’t it obvious?” Yukari hissed. “Don't be insensitive, Minato-kun is one of our best friends!"

“Whuh? No, no, that’s not what I—! It’s totally cool, man. I just thought…” He scratched his head. “Wow, I really wouldn’t have guessed. You’re just, you seemed like such a ladykiller, y’know…”

Ryoji nodded slowly at that. It was true—he had killed plenty of women in his time, though he wasn't sure what any of that had to do with him and Minato.

“Ryoji Mochizuki,” said Aigis again, managing somehow to make his name sound like an insult. The guns built into her fingertips whirred dangerously. “Disengage at once, or prepare for battle.”

“Oh my god,” whispered Yukari. “Is Aigis homophobic?”

“What? O-of course not,” Mitsuru whispered back, sounding oddly distressed. “She’s just… concerned, surely. Arisato is still sick, after all...”

“Oh, right!” said Junpei. “How is he? Were you able to get ahold of the hospital?”

“What the hell, Junpei!" Yukari shrieked. "We're not gonna send him to the hospital because he's gay!”

“What?! I didn't mean it like that! Cut me some slack, I thought you said he had a fever!”

“Oh. Right. Um, sorry.” She turned to Ryoji. “So how is he?”

Ryoji smiled awkwardly. “...Warm? I guess?”

“Clearly, your forced proximity has only made his fever worse,” said Aigis. “I will not permit you to put Minato-san's life in any further danger. Disabling all limiters. Activating—”

“Stop that, Aigis,” Minato grumbled.

Ryoji jumped (as much as he could manage in the current situation). Minato's companions all turned impressive shades of white or pink, and Aigis faltered, her core pulsing rhythmically with light like a beating heart.

“Dude,” Junpei spluttered. “You can still talk?"

“We were so worried about you! What the heck?”

"Was it another Guardian?" said Ken. "Did you kill it?"

“What happened, Arisato?” asked Mitsuru urgently. “Can you explain the situation to us?”

“Careful, all of you, you’re crowding him!” shouted Fuuka, in the voice she usually saved to announce that the Reaper was rattling down the hall, and everyone froze.

“I'm tired,” Minato muttered. “You do it.”

“What?” Ryoji tried to look at him, but Minato was already retreating, burying his face in Ryoji’s scarf and going quiet again. Tucked into Minato's arms as he was, his voice was a pleasant hum against Ryoji’s back. The soft rise and fall of his chest was somehow comforting; his breath was hot on Ryoji's neck. Ryoji had never been held before. There was a sort of novelty to it.

His throat was suddenly very dry.

“Minato,” he said quietly. “What's the matter? Why won't you let go?”

“I missed you,” said Minato again, too softly for anyone but Ryoji to hear.

He laughed. “I was only gone for a few weeks.”

“We used to be together every day.”

“What's wrong with him?” asked Ken. “What's he saying?”

“He, um...” Ryoji trailed off, unsure how to proceed. Everyone knew that he had been born from within Minato. But somehow it felt like a secret, that Minato missed him—missed sharing a heart.

There was a small, silly part of him that was almost delighted at the thought that Minato considered him worth such a fuss. And—if Ryoji was being honest, he missed it too. He didn't like how quiet things were inside his own head. Minato's was always full of music. It was—well, it was nice. Being with Minato was just nice.

Aigis was watching them with an odd look on her face. Ryoji tried for an awkward smile. Wordlessly, she turned away, and he felt suddenly guilty for having come at all.

In the end, it was Yukari who came to his rescue. “Fuuka,” she said. “If he’s really just charmed, Isis might be able to clear it up. You want me to call her?"

“No… I don’t think so,” said Fuuka. “Not that I don’t think you can do it, it’s just…”

“Yeah?”

“It's just that there’s something strange about this charm spell. It’s—different, somehow? It makes me nervous,” she said after a moment. “So I think it would be best if we just left it alone for the time being. It should fade away on its own, but… Er, do you mind, Ryoji-kun?”

“Oh, not at all,” he said. Which was the understatement of the century—Ryoji had been a part of Minato’s soul for ten years. Sitting in his lap for a few hours—a few more decades, even—was nothing.

It was just a shame, he thought, that they didn't have that kind of time.

Ten exhausting minutes later, they had successfully dragged Minato across the carpet and onto the couch. Really, it was Akihiko doing most of the dragging—Ryoji mostly just tugged uselessly at Minato's jacket and pleaded with him until he begrudgingly unfolded his arms and legs just long enough for Ryoji to sit down, then curled up next to him and rested his head on his shoulder. Fuuka had been nice enough to put a movie on so he wouldn't get bored, but Ryoji was so giddy about that last part that he forgot the title immediately and spent the next hour and a half running his fingers through Minato's hair. Yukari came back downstairs with her head in a towel as the credits rolled, glanced at the two of them, and snorted.

The rest of the team came and went as they pleased. Ken and Koromaru stretched out on the rug together; Mitsuru slipped into the kitchen to brew herself some tea. Fuuka sat at the table and tapped away at her computer, glancing up at the TV every now and again, and Junpei… To be honest, he wasn't sure what Junpei was doing, but he seemed really enthusiastic about whatever it was.

“Heyyy, Ryoji! You know, uh… One of my cousins kissed a guy once," he said, slinging an arm around Ryoji's shoulder.

“Oh, wow. Your cousin is gay?” said Yukari. "I had no idea."

“Nah, she's a lady. But, like… still common ground, right?” He grinned.

Ryoji nodded politely and tried very hard not to look at Akihiko, who had materialized at the bottom of the stairs to make a desperate slashing motion with one hand. 

Yukari sighed. "Junpei, knock it off already. You're just making him uncomfortable."

"Sorry, man. I just…" Junpei scratched his chin sheepishly. "I don't want you to think I'm not cool with this. With you and Minato, I mean. You coulda told us earlier."

"We both want you guys to be happy," said Yukari. "Minato-kun has done so much for us. Honestly, I'm glad to see him relaxing for once. He always looks so tired."

"Right?"

"Thank you," said Ryoji. "But I don't think—I mean, we're not…"

Not together, he meant to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Weren't they, though? Maybe they weren't boyfriend and—well, and boyfriend, like normal high schoolers, but if he had to put words to whatever it was that he and Minato had, together didn't sound so bad. He couldn't imagine any iteration of himself being apart from Minato. It was all he knew.

He swallowed thickly, and settled on, "We're not really… dating."

"Really?" said Yukari. Then, slowly: "Have you tried… like, asking him?"

"Huh? No, I mean—" He paused. "Is that something I can do?"

"What? Probably. Um, can't he, Junpei?"

"Why're you asking me?" said Junpei.

"You're a guy! Don't you know?"

"No! I'm not—I mean, again, totally cool, Ryoji—I've never had to ask a guy out," said Junpei hastily. "Hell, I have enough on my plate trying to deal with just the girls. Remember how that flirting contest went, with Aigis?"

"What contest?"

He winced. "Wait, you guys weren't there for that. Never mind. It sucked."

"I can imagine," said Yukari dryly. "Hey, where is Aigis? I haven't seen her since earlier."

"She told me she was going for a walk," said Mitsuru from the kitchen, glancing at Koromaru apologetically when his ears perked up.

Akihiko frowned. "That's unusual."

"Well… I think with Arisato so attached to Mochizuki, she's a bit…"

Yukari sighed. "Poor Aigis."

"Does she… want to watch him for a little while?" Ryoji tried, then shrunk back when Yukari looked at him like he had said something incredibly stupid.

"Of course she does. But that's not the point," she said. "The point is he saw you and immediately glued himself to you like a barnacle. Aigis has been with him all day, you know. But she wasn't his first choice. There's nothing we can do about that."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," she said, then sighed. "But it's not your fault. Or anyone's, really. I mean… sometimes stuff like this just happens, you know? And he still really cares for her. So I'm sure he'll find some way to make it up to her when he's better."

“You know, Aigis has really changed,” said Fuuka. “It's incredible. She spent so long insisting she was only a machine, but these days she's becoming so much like a human that I don't think many people could tell the difference, even if they knew.”

Ryoji thought that was amazing, but it was a little discouraging to find out that Aigis hating him hadn’t been entirely to do with the whole “secret avatar of death” thing, and it was more just that she had found him annoying before she even knew she had feelings. He did his best to nod encouragingly regardless.

"Oh, crap," said Yukari suddenly. "I gotta go dry my hair. Junpei, hold this." She pulled the towel from her head on her way over to the stairs and tossed it at him. It hit him in the face.

Junpei sighed. "I'm gonna head back to my room too. Hey, uh…" He looked down at Minato, fitted into Ryoji's side like half of a whole. "Take care of him, yeah? It's… good. That you guys can still be together. I'm kinda jealous, to be honest."

Ryoji had no idea what to say to that. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, don't be. I'm just moping. S'not your fault."

Wasn't it, though? He was Death. All lives were fated to return to him someday. Minato shifted against him, still dozing contentedly.

He watched Junpei go.

He knew a little bit about Chidori, mostly from what Junpei had told Minato while he was visiting her in the hospital. She was close to death, that much was clear, and had been for a long time—since she was little, years before she would ever meet Junpei. Their paths had only managed to intersect at the very end.

Once, Junpei had said to Minato:

"I wish I could have met her sooner."

They were slouched on the stairs in front of Port Island Station, sipping halfheartedly at a couple of sodas they had bought from the vending machine, hoping they would be colder than they actually were. The summer heat bore down on them in thick, humid waves. Minato was only half-listening.

"It's just—she doesn't seem happy, y'know?" Junpei continued. "It's like she's watching the rest of the world from behind a window. She doesn't wanna get too close. She told me so."

Minato made a noise that could have been acknowledgement, though privately Ryoji thought he was probably falling asleep.

"I wish I knew what it was that made her so closed off. I mean, I like her just the way she is. But I still wish I could have been there for her. Made things a little easier, maybe."

It was a nice thought. He remembered Minato thinking that to himself. Ryoji had to agree, and he had to wonder, too. Could things have been different? Just by meeting someone earlier, by being with them more. What if it was true? But it wasn't as if that would apply to Ryoji anyway—the fact that he existed at all meant the end of everything.

Still. If they had known each other sooner. If Ryoji had never thought himself human at all, but they still found a way to be together. Was it like Junpei had said? Could their togetherness have made things easier?

What if he and Minato had met in Tartarus, then, rather than as two unknowing teenagers? Minato, walking the halls of Tartarus all alone, the glint of fresh blood on his blade. A path would open before him, a privilege afforded only to Minato, because he was special and also it was Ryoji's daydream so he got to make the rules, and at its end would be Thanatos, silhouetted ominously in the gloom. Waiting.

It would be a rough battle, but at the end of it Minato would surprise him by lunging gracefully forward and landing with a knee to the monster's chest and his blade at its throat. And then he would cut into whatever facsimile of flesh it had there, and Thanatos would fall away, and it would just be Ryoji, shivering on the cool stone floor.

Who are you? Minato would say, still poised to sink his sword into Ryoji's neck. Answer me.

I… Ryoji's vision would blur as he blinked up at the shifting patterns above. But Minato—Minato's face would always be clear. I don't know.

Minato would squint, but cautiously remove his sword. He was just kind like that. You look human. Were you trapped here?

I don't think so, Ryoji would say. I think I was born here.

Minato would go quiet, considering. And then: Come with me.

What?

Back to the real world. No one should be down here all alone.

Ryoji would blink up at him and say, But you were here alone. Before you found me. Weren't you?

Minato's face betrayed nothing. But Ryoji knew. He always did. That's… different.

"But it's not," said Ryoji, out loud. Koromaru cocked his head. "Oh. Sorry, not you, buddy."

Fuuka had said Minato spent the whole week sneaking into Tartarus by himself. Ryoji still didn't understand why—if he wanted to train, he could have done it with the rest of the team. And if he just wanted to be alone, he didn't have to do that in Tartarus. So Minato must have been down there for a reason—must have been looking for something. Something he didn't want the others to know about.

“Really,” he murmured. “What did you get into while I was away?” He reached out and poked Minato's cheek.

Minato stirred. “...Ryoji.”

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You recognize me now?”

“Always did. It's just your eyes, they…” He yawned. “Y’know they're really blue? As Pharos, too.”

“Of course.” He batted his eyelashes. “The ladies love it. They say it makes me look mysterious.”

“I dunno about that. Yukari told me once I should buy you sunglasses. ‘Cause you kept scaring her on the school trip to Kyoto when you went walking around at night,” said Minato.

"Oh yeah?"

“Mm. Like… she would get up to use the bathroom and see a pair of floating eyes at the end of the hall.” He frowned. "I always thought she was exaggerating when she said they glowed."

"Glasses, huh?" said Ryoji. “That's a shame. Are you gonna take her advice?”

“No. I like your eyes,” said Minato. After a moment, he added, “Blue suits you.”

“What a coincidence!" Ryoji beamed. "I happen to agree!”

He closed his eyes again after that, though Ryoji had no way of knowing if he was actually tired or he just didn’t feel like talking anymore. Knowing Minato, it was probably a little bit of both, but Ryoji didn't mind. How could he possibly? It was Minato.

As night fell, the rest of Minato's teammates began to trickle out of the common room, one by one. Minato himself was a warm, comfortable weight at his side; Ryoji had no real use for sleep anymore, but he closed his eyes anyway. It felt nice. Like they were just a couple of normal high school students, worn out from the commotion of their winter break.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost see it: Minato bundled up in winter coats and sleek knit sweaters, snowflakes landing in his hair. They would walk hand in hand going nowhere in particular, and Minato would say something enchantingly mundane like: Where should we go for dinner?

I'm not sure, Ryoji would reply. And then, pretending to be considerate: Shall we leave it to the others? It’s about time for us to be getting back. I’m sure Takeba-san will have plenty of suggestions.

Hmm. Minato would flash him a devilish grin. Nah. They're not invited. And he would loop his arm through Ryoji's and pull him even closer, until they were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, and when they laughed their breath formed little clouds in the frosty air.

Conveniently, Minato never seemed to have a scarf, so Ryoji got to be a gentleman (he had always liked the sound of that—Death Itself! Gentle and a man! The thought alone was dazzling!) and offer up his own. It was nice, wrapping Minato in that shock of his own color. There was something very mortal about it—about sharing your things with your favorite person in the world, and about the way it stuck out against the cool blues and grays of his usual clothes. That scarf draped around his shoulders showed that Minato was human, and that he was loved. Someone had fussed over him and told him to wear it even though it didn't match, because they didn't want him to be cold, because they loved him. And that someone was Ryoji Mochizuki, a normal human boy—imagine that!

The scarf was like proof of his existence, just as Ryoji himself was proof of Minato's. Although in this scenario, he wasn't Death at all, which meant they had found each other normally and become friends without all the extra supernatural baggage. Which was almost as good, but Ryoji thought that he would miss knowing the inside of Minato's soul. If things were different, they might not be quite so close to each other. Neither of them would be the same—after all, Ryoji as he was now could not have been born without Minato. So, they would be different. But they would be safe. Would that be enough?

“Mochizuki.” Oh. That was Mitsuru's voice. He rubbed his eyes; the dream vanished in an instant like a snowflake on his tongue. “How is he? Any change?”

“I'm afraid not.” Ryoji smiled, quashing the urge to apologize for not inviting her to his imaginary dinner. “But it's really no hardship on my part. In fact, I'm downright flattered he picked me as his favorite toy for the evening.”

She laughed. “Well, I suppose now that we know his life isn't in any danger… It is a little funny. And endearing, in its own way. He isn't usually so honest with his feelings.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. It's been almost a year, but I can't even begin to guess what he's thinking most of the time.”

“It's not so hard,” said Ryoji. “It just doesn't show much on his face. He's got plenty of love in his heart.”

He had spoken without thinking, as he so often did when it came to Minato, but—it made sense, he realized. He thought back to Fuuka’s earlier words: He wasn’t displaying any of the usual symptoms.

It was true that Minato's behavior was far from what they'd all come to expect from a normal charm spell. A lot quieter, a lot less… well, explosive. The others had chalked it up to sheer determination. But Ryoji remembered—Minato waiting patiently next to Junpei every day as he fiddled with the vending machine during their lunch period, and sitting next to Yukari on the train ride home. Minato walking diligently to the takoyaki stand a good four blocks away for a child he had met all of thirty seconds ago. Carefully selecting a leaf from the persimmon tree, closing his eyes and humming along in the music room, walking Aigis through the summer festival even though he had a stomachache.

He'd always had a funny way of showing how much he cared, and Ryoji had been there for all of it. Maybe he didn't always say it out loud, but that didn't mean it wasn't real. For Minato, simply being close to the ones he loved was enough. He had known better than anyone, since he was very young—since losing a family and gaining an imaginary friend—that he only had so much time afforded to him. In a way, it was a show of love in itself that he gave that precious time away so freely.

Mitsuru chuckled. “I'm glad he has at least one person at his side who can understand him.”

Ryoji grinned. “I guess I'm just lucky like that!”

“We all are. To know him, I mean.”

“Of course. I really am happy to see that he's managed to forge such steadfast bonds,” he said with a laugh. Then, as subtly as he could: “I hope that you'll all keep looking after him for me when I'm gone.”

“Oh. Actually…” Mitsuru blinked. “I intended for Arisato to be the one to tell you, but, ah… We've already decided not to kill you. The decision was unanimous.”

Ryoji kept his face carefully neutral. “I see. Well, I urge you all to reconsider while you still can, but… If you’re quite certain, I guess this'll be goodbye.”

Mitsuru nodded. “It's been a pleasure, Mochizuki. No matter how this battle ends, I think I speak for us all when I say we'll be facing Nyx with no regrets.”

“Then I'll leave later this evening, before the Dark Hour arrives. Er, Minato should be alright by then.”

“We understand.”

With that, Ryoji went on his way. That was a shame. He'd thought Mitsuru, at least, would be more pragmatic than this. Surely she understood that taking his life was the most logical thing to do. But he wouldn't dwell on it—Minato would agree, once the charm wore off and he remembered that he only cared about Ryoji a normal amount. All would continue as planned, and tomorrow, he would no longer exist.

Today, though, he would bravely undertake the daunting task of dragging a very sleepy Minato up a flight of stairs.

It was about an hour until Minato could finally be coaxed to let go of him, and another before he stopped dozing off on Ryoji’s shoulder every five minutes. It wasn’t as if Ryoji minded, but he supposed he was glad the approach of the Dark Hour meant the effects would soon wear off completely. He would much prefer for Minato to kill him with a clear head, so that perhaps they could exchange a proper farewell before he disappeared. 

At precisely eleven o’clock, Ryoji turned to him and said pleasantly, “You should kill me sometime in the next hour or so.”

Minato looked at him like he had grown another head. 

“What's the matter? You're the only one here now, you know. I know you all discussed this as a group, but…” He smiled wryly. “It isn't as if they'll remember once I’m gone.”

“I know that,” he muttered. “But…” He trailed off, staring at the rumpled bedspread with an odd look on his face.

"Minato?"

"Can't you stay?" he said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Ryoji frowned. “You know, I… I really didn’t want to have to show you this. But I guess I have no choice."

Chagrined, he closed his eyes, and let himself unfold into Thanatos. His human form melted away, joints creaking and tendons splitting until he towered over Minato. Flesh gave way to bone. The smell of ash filled the air.

All was silent but for the cold, eerie rattling of chains.

Look, he growled. Do you see now? I'm no different from the Shadows you've been destroying all year.

Thanatos was much harder for a human to wrap their head around than Ryoji. He was very tall, and very dark, and very, very, very old. He had been reaping souls since the dawn of time, and he would reap countless more in the years to come. Death would endure whether “Ryoji Mochizuki” existed or not. This was simply the way of things.

Humans could sense that sort of thing—all living creatures could, really. It was why those close to death found him unnerving even in his smallest, most unassuming form. Minato's face was impossible to read, but in this form Thanatos could see the ghostly glow of his soul. It was close enough to touch. To consume. It would be so easy—Minato had no idea how fragile he was. All he had to do was reach out.

Most nights, he couldn’t be bothered to sleep after reclaiming his true form, so Ryoji had allowed himself, once or twice, to daydream about Minato’s reaction. It was a silly sort of dream—one where he descended gracefully into Minato’s arms instead of tearing through his soul like wet tissue paper—but he found that it filled him with a gentle sort of feeling he hadn’t been able to replicate since being excised from Minato’s heart.

In the dream, Minato was never scared, just curious and a bit uncertain. He would reach out hesitantly as Thanatos knelt before him so that he could place his hand on the cold, smooth metal that served as his head, and Thanatos would lean eagerly into the touch. Eventually, Minato would be confident enough to let Thanatos pick him up, and he would carry him like a bride and they would go flying together under the full moon and it would all be very romantic. Sometimes there were even flowers involved.

Other times, he dreamed of looming over Minato’s delicate frame and scraping his jaws along his throat, not enough to hurt but enough to make his breath catch, and by that point he usually tried to force himself to think about something else. It wasn't fair to Minato, to be fantasizing about him like that. It felt—different, when he was Ryoji. Ryoji was small and breakable, like Minato. Ryoji could daydream all he liked, but Thanatos was something else entirely. Something terrible. Minato would accept him regardless—but still, he had never wanted Minato to see him like this.

It was all right. He would die for Minato even if he had to do it as a monster.

The end is inevitable, he continued, as Thanatos. His voice in this form fell somewhere between a growl and the raspy hiss of a death rattle. Minato was surely terrified by now, no matter how well he tried to hide it. All humans feared death, whether they knew it or not, and at such close quarters, he would be unable to resist the primordial terror hardwired into his veins.

This was for the best. It was all he could do for them, now.

If you do not kill me, you and yours will live in naught but fear and misery until its arrival. Steel your heart and steady your hand. Allow me to grant you a peaceful death. He tilted his head. Surely you must understand what is at stake. Don't you wish to save your friends? You—

Minato grabbed the chains hanging from Thanatos's shoulders with both hands, yanked him down in one rough motion, and smashed his mouth against the jagged silver helmet in what was firmly, impossibly, unmistakably a kiss.

Ryoji was so shocked that he accidentally turned back into a human.

He looked at Minato in disbelief.

Minato raised an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.

Why was nothing about this going according to plan? His head was spinning. What was he doing wrong? Minato hadn't even tried to stab him yet! He was still in one piece, and he hadn’t the slightest idea why, and the simple, embarrassing fact was that he hadn't expected this. In his head, he had already died a thousand times over in a thousand different ways, some of them incredibly creative and also super hot, and absolutely none of that was happening, and all he could think to say was: “Why did you do that?! I could have bitten your tongue off!”

“Don't need it,” said Minato, without missing a beat.

“You know," Ryoji choked, craning his neck to dodge as Minato stubbornly chased his lips, "I'm not sure I agree!”

“I could get by. You can always tell what I want. So I'll have you do all the talking for me.”

“I'm not going to be here after tonight,” said Ryoji, as calmly as he could manage. “Remember? You have to kill me, right now.”

“Why?” murmured Minato against the side of his jaw.

“You—mmh—Stop that, Minato! You know you're going to die in a month, whether you go through with this or not. Nyx is… I wasn’t lying, when I said it would be impossible to defeat her. She's a force of nature—not just the reason that all things end, but the end itself.” He sighed. “At least this way, you can be safe and happy until the Fall.”

Minato thought for a moment. When he looked back at Ryoji, it was with the look in his eyes that usually meant he had decided to completely ignore whatever was being said. “Close your eyes. And hold still.”

“What for?”

“So I can kiss you again.”

“What? But I just told you—” In a flash, Minato had gone quiet, and turned his face away. For a terrifying second, Ryoji thought he might be about to cry. Oh, this was awful. Ryoji was awful! How could he not have realized sooner? Of course Minato would be uncomfortable with having to kill someone, even if that someone wasn’t technically a real human being. “Minato? I'm sorry. I understand that this must be very hard for you, but you don't have to feel guilty about it. I'm not human, remember? I won't feel any pain.”

He reached out encouragingly, and realized too late that he had made a grave mistake. The instant Ryoji touched his shoulder, Minato's hand snaked up and wrapped around his wrist. In one deft movement, he pulled Ryoji into his arms and blasted him point blank with the full force of a pout that could have shattered bulletproof glass.

“Ryoji,” he said softly. “Please?”

Ryoji closed his eyes.

Minato's lips were warm and a little dry, and he sighed softly when Ryoji tilted his head and moved in closer. His hands were in Ryoji's hair, then at his throat, tracing along each of the delicate pulse points there, then traveling further still to palm at his chest. He felt the press of Minato's tongue and parted his lips obediently—there was no part of him that Minato wasn't welcome to. Minato rewarded him with a contented hum.

It got a lot harder to focus after that. Minato had always been scarily efficient when he deemed something worthy of his full attention. He steered Ryoji toward the bed and stared at him pointedly until he sat down. He climbed into Ryoji’s lap and kissed him until he felt like he was going to pass out. He mouthed along Ryoji's neck, studying his reactions with the same flat, unconcerned expression he might have worn to inspect a strange bug on the sidewalk. Ryoji knew that Minato had no particular affinity for sex, and so his ministrations were more methodical than anything. When he moved to pin Ryoji’s arms above his head, it was probably just because he wanted him to stop squirming, but, well—Ryoji knew Minato was just being practical, but it was kinda—

He closed his eyes and tried to banish the thought from his mind. Restrained like this, he was put in mind of a dissection table. He would let Minato cut him open as much as he wanted. He would lay perfectly still with all the flesh peeled back from his torso like a butterfly in a display case, and Minato would reach inside and scoop out his dysfunctional heart without preamble.

Hmm, he would say. It’s terminal. I'm afraid you don't have very long left to live, sir.

And Ryoji would give him a delirious nod and will away the flimsy latex gloves that were the only barrier between his heart and Minato's bare skin. Also, Minato was wearing a lab coat. That part was important, because it would be soaked in blood as he climbed on top of Ryoji, smiling wickedly through the halo of the surgical light and—

OW.

“Ow!” said Ryoji, out loud this time for good measure.

Minato was looking down at him, wearing an expression that could only be described as mild annoyance, which on Minato was as good as a full-blown death stare. Unfortunately, Ryoji had no idea what he'd done wrong, because he couldn't focus on anything except how hot Minato was when he was mad.

“Did—” He swallowed, taking a second to feel around in his mouth. “Did you just bite me?”

“Maybe you would know,” said Minato, “if you had been paying attention.” There was a splotch of red staining the corner of his mouth. Ryoji stared at it dazedly. Minato's tongue darted out and slid along his upper lip, and then it was gone.

“You can't…” Ryoji struggled to string together the words swimming uselessly around in his head. He felt faint. “You can’t just do that.”

“I just did,” said Minato petulantly.

“Yes, but—” Just then, a horrifying thought hit him like a brick to the face. Ryoji froze as it finally dawned on him. “Oh no. Oh, no. You’re still charmed, aren’t you.”

“What?”

“You’re not in your right mind and I just… I just took advantage of you! I can’t believe I didn’t—I’m going to jail. They’re going to put me in jail and I deserve it!” he wailed. “Minato, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking, I—”

“Don’t be stupid, Ryoji. The charm wore off hours ago. The only reason it stuck so long was because I cast it on myself.”

“You—What? Why?!”

“Gee,” said Minato flatly. (Minato was still straddling him. That felt like a clue. But what could he possibly be trying to say? Ryoji was well and truly lost.) “I wonder.”

Ryoji shook his head. “Never mind that. You need to kill me. We don’t have much time left.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “I don’t feel like it.”

What was that supposed to mean?

This wasn’t right. None of this was right! He wasn’t used to not understanding Minato, and it threw him off balance every time he remembered that this was what passed as normal to all humans. This was all a huge disaster—did he even have his Evoker on him? Or any weapon at all? The Dark Hour was fast approaching. What was Ryoji supposed to do if he couldn't die on time? What was the point, if he couldn’t do this one thing for the person he loved most in the world?

When he had realized the truth, a small, sick part of him had been almost relieved. This way, he had thought, at least he could be useful to Minato. For the first time in his terrible, monstrous life, Thanatos could play the part of the knight instead of the dragon. Or—maybe it was more like both at once. His loved ones could live out their happiest available ending.

All he had to do was die. All he could do was die.

He had one job—one thing he was still any good for—and Minato wouldn’t even let him do it.

“I'm trying to die for you,” Ryoji said, hysterically. “Why don’t you get it?! I want—I want to save you. I want to save everyone! Why won't you just kill me? I don’t understand. I really… I don’t understand any of this at all! I thought I had finally gotten the hang of being human. You know I was made for you? You’re the reason I exist. You’re the one who gave me a human heart. I-I don’t think there’s anyone I like more in the whole world. Sometimes I forget we aren’t the same person anymore. And it hurts, being like this. But I can’t go back! Everything is so beautiful now! It’s so beautiful and I never even knew! 

“When I was Death, I didn’t understand love at all. I wasn’t born knowing how to love anyone. But then you shared your heart with me. And I was changed. I became human so that I would be able to love you! And then I came here, and it turns out that loving is so easy. It's awful! I love being alive so much and I have no idea what to do about it. I was never meant to be this way. I don’t know what this love means, or how to keep it safe, but I know I don’t want you to be sad or scared—I can’t bear the thought of you meeting such an awful fate because of me! Please, Minato, I need you to kill me! It’s the only way I know how to repay you! I think… I think I really—”

“Ryoji.”

“Please.”

“Ryoji. Calm down.”

In the feverish, frenzied mess of his too-human mind, it took Ryoji a good minute to realize what was happening. Unthinkingly, he shuddered, feeling abruptly as though some unseen force strangling every bone in his body had loosened. Something inside him had slid neatly back into place. Everything was very warm, now, and—Oh. Minato was hugging him. His face was tucked neatly against Ryoji’s neck. The ends of his hair tickled his nose. The rush of thoughts had abruptly stilled, and something in his chest seized up as Minato began to hum quietly.

Ryoji made a small, pathetic noise that might have been a sob. “Are you still…?”

“No,” mumbled Minato into his scarf. “Told you. ‘m fine now. Don't think so hard.”

“...All right.” Ryoji swallowed. How long had he been shaking? He didn't know. Not knowing was scary. Being apart from Minato was even scarier.

This was a mess.

They stayed there together for what felt like ages. Ryoji had the vague sense that hugs weren't technically supposed to last this long, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away and Minato squeezed him tighter before he could even get the chance. Instead, he rested a hand awkwardly on the back of Minato’s fluffy head and listened to the sound of his breathing.

He thought perhaps Minato had drifted off until he shifted in Ryoji's arms and spoke up again.

“I signed a contract,” he said. “Do you remember? You weren't Ryoji yet, but you were there.”

Ryoji blinked. “Yes.” Of course he remembered. It was the first time he could recall ever feeling excited, waiting for his first and only friend to arrive.

“I promised to take full responsibility for my own actions. Those were your words. And you said just now, I’m the reason you came alive.”

“...Yes,” Ryoji whispered. “You are.” His heart—the fragile human heart his dearest had given him—felt as though it was going to burst.

Was this what love felt like? Was it supposed to hurt this much?

Minato took Ryoji’s face into his hands. “So you’re my responsibility now,” he said simply. Like it really, truly could be that easy.

Oh, this wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair at all.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he said, and tried for a nervous laugh. It came out watery—that was new. Maybe this was how Minato planned to kill him. Maybe he could just die right here in his arms. For all the time Ryoji had spent fantasizing about this moment, he’d never managed to imagine a death quite so gentle. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad.

Ten long years of their hearts beating together as one, and Minato Arisato still found ways to surprise him. Ryoji really loved him, he realized. He had always known, but it felt like a revelation. He loved Minato so much.

“If you don’t want the life I gave you anymore, then—that’s fine,” said Minato. “I’m taking it back now and I won’t ever let it go. You’re mine forever. So you have to stay.”

“Mina—mghfph.”

Minato smushed his cheeks together before he could protest any further. “It doesn’t matter if we die,” he said firmly. “I know you think there's no way we'll be able to win against Nyx. But you still have to promise you’ll stay and honor the contract—it's only fair."

"Mm-hm."

"Those go both ways, you know? I asked Mitsuru-senpai about it to make sure. She talked for, like, an hour.”

Ryoji couldn’t help it. He snorted, and something like surprise flickered across Minato’s face.

Slowly, he brought his hands up to rest atop Minato’s, and closed his eyes.

This was a terrible idea. The end of the world was well on its way. There was no escaping death—this was the simple truth of life and the universe. He knew it better than anyone: Nyx would rise, no matter what, and in one month, it would all be over. All of humanity would fall into endless, peaceful oblivion, and none of this would matter—nothing would, anymore.

Ryoji had never been one to resist the passage of time, as Death or as anything else. It was futile. Like swimming against the tides as the moon pulled them endlessly from the sea. For the first time, though, he wondered if the moon was truly the one in control. Maybe—maybe it was more like this. Like Minato's hand clasped tightly in his own. Give and take. Ebb and flow. For the very first time in his long, lonely existence, he found himself wishing that he could stay. He wanted to bottle up this moment and drink it in for the rest of eternity. He wanted to be human. He really wanted to kiss Minato again. It was bizarre. He’d never thought himself capable of such fragile, finicky emotions.

The Dark Hour would soon be upon them. The moon was full and bright in the sky, and all was silent and still. The feeling of Minato's arms around him was his whole world. Maybe nothing mattered anymore except Minato. Ryoji would happily forsake all that he had ever been, if it meant he could stay here forever. He imagined this was what the beginnings of Apathy Syndrome felt like—but no, the heart he had not asked for was still beating fiercely and defiantly in his chest, and he cared entirely too much about too many things.

“Stay,” said Minato again.

I would do anything for you, said Ryoji's heart. I love you. I'm sorry. I think I might be dying. I think I want to die with you. I love you. I can’t stay. I don't have a choice. I'm sorry.

“Okay,” he said.

Minato smiled. He leaned in closer until their mirrored heartbeats had at last become one. It felt like coming home. The clock struck midnight, flickered, and died. Here, in this moment, they were whole once again.

The world went dark. 

Ryoji breathed out.