Archive of Our Own ^beta

With the lounge unusually empty, Akihiko is quick to catch Yamagishi’s trajectory towards him from her descent down the stairs. He flips the next page of his book with a lick of his thumb just to be sure, not wanting to pull her into conversation if unnecessary, but once she’s missed the mark in heading towards the front door, he looks up with a practiced smile.

“Looking for Yuki? I think he stepped out a bit ago.” It’s a fairly confident assumption—Yamagishi’s got that look on her face, a certain kind of determination meant to brace oneself, and it makes sense, considering the type of favor she’s been asking of their leader recently. His response only seems to startle her, though, as if Akihiko has thrown her off her train of thought entirely.

“O-oh, no. Thank you for telling me, though,” Yamagishi kindly replies, gratitude still given despite the information being unsolicited. “I was… actually wondering if I could speak to you for a moment, Senpai. If that’s alright.”

Akihiko lays his book facedown, intrigued. “Ah. Well, sure. What is it you need?”

Literally speaking, Yamagishi is the closest Akihiko has ever been to another person. You can’t get much closer than being inside someone’s head, after all, and Lucia’s abilities far surpass the distant, surface-level static of Penthesilea. But beyond the indispensable trust that lies between an exploration team and their field navigator, Akihiko would have to admit that their relationship doesn’t extend far past that. That isn’t to say they aren’t friendly, or that Akihiko would necessarily mind spending time alone with her. It’s just… Akihiko hasn’t. He doesn’t spend much time with anyone, really, anyone besides Shinji and Mitsuru, and only recently has Yuki been added to the long endured mix. But in his case, it’s the excuse of a continuously rain-checked meal that keeps that line open; without it, Akihiko would probably fall back into keeping Yuki at arm’s length the same as everyone else. It’s just how Akihiko is. The distance is comfortable.

But Yamagishi… Yamagishi is an odd one. While Akihiko has mostly settled into a mindful orbit around the others, a satellite in every way, he finds himself unwilling to even risk being pulled into her gravity. Even so, he finds it easier to read her than most. He’s not really sure why.

“Thank you.” Yamagishi punctuates it with a slight bow of her head, hands clasped in front of her lap. She’s polite, but she’s not this polite. Taking the silence that follows into consideration, whatever it is must be making her nervous. And for that reason, it makes Akihiko nervous, too.

“You’re welcome to say whatever’s on your mind, Yamagishi.” Akihiko keeps his gaze on the girl as he leans forward for good measure, assuring his body language remains open and inviting—both primary examples of active listening.

“I know.” Yamagishi rewards his reassurance with a small smile. She takes another moment to gather her thoughts before her posture straightens. “I was wondering… Sanada-senpai, would you be willing to teach me how to fight?”

“Excuse me?” Ah, that sounds rude. “Sorry.” He clears his throat, thankful for Yamagishi’s grace in the form of a gently knitted brow. The patience for a proper response. “Just color me surprised. Fighting?” Yamagishi nods, big, brown eyes similar to a troubled fawn. ”I don’t see why you’d want to.”

“To be honest, it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.” Yamagishi’s voice softens as her head dips low, a sense of profound shame in the gesture. “Ever since I joined the team, I can’t help feeling like I should be doing more. I know what I do is important, and I truly appreciate the encouragement you all give me, but in the end, you’re the ones risking your lives.” The hand pressed to her chest curls into a tight fist. “I failed to notice Strega during our last operation—it’s my one responsibility to keep you all safe, and not only did I fail in doing so, but I was useless in resolving it.”

Akihiko feels his mouth fall open to respond, but no words come to mind. It’s true that Strega slipped under Yamagishi’s radar, but no one had once considered that to be her fault. The logical conclusion was that the group had certain abilities yet to be revealed, but Akihiko knows as well as anyone that that kind of reassurance does little to soothe the wound of inadequacy left behind.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” is what he finally settles on. It’s weak, but maybe it will do. “Your guidance during operations is irreplaceable, Yamagishi. We’ve all come back alive so far. I highly doubt that’d be the case without you in our corner."

Yamagishi looks uncertain. Akihiko presses further.

“It sounds like what you’re lacking is proper confidence in your navigational skills. What made you believe learning to fight would be the solution?”

When Yamagishi fails to answer, Akihiko begins to wonder if he might’ve upset her in some way. Before he has a chance to remedy the situation, though, she beats him to the punch.

“It’s… honestly a little hard to imagine, but… have you ever felt powerless, Sanada-senpai?”

Akihiko’s mouth goes dry.

“Like if you were even just a little stronger, things could have gone differently?”

If he were to be entirely honest, it’d be more accurate to say Akihiko couldn’t remember a time where he didn't feel that way. Even as recently as April, nursing a broken rib under Mitsuru’s bothersome supervision, he had been forced to fall behind as his kouhais moved forward in his stead. It’s not even so much that he missed the rush of a good fight itself; he simply hated how useless he felt. The second-years had only recently awakened to their Personas, and Akihiko knew first-hand how easy it was to get hurt in Tartarus. How easily something could go terribly wrong. And with Mitsuru stuck on support, there was no one else who would’ve been able to climb up to their aid if needed. Akihiko hated it.

And before that…

“...Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

Always in his head, huh.

“That feeling… when I first awakened, and I was able to save Natsuki-chan. As scared as I was, I also remember feeling happy. Happy that I could protect my friend, and that I could help the ones who had come to save me.” Yamagishi’s confidence seems to find its second wind, her eyes boldly meeting Akihiko’s. “That feeling is why I joined SEES in the first place—and I want to feel that feeling again. There’s only so much I can do as the person I am now. And I’ve been working on it in some ways with Yuki-kun’s help, but the checkups this past week made me realize something.” Yamagishi takes a small breath. “To put it simply, my physical capabilities are far below anyone else on the team. I’m not athletically inclined whatsoever, nor do I have any experience in a sports club like the rest of you. When you look at the numbers, even Koro-chan is in far better shape.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Akihiko speaks without thinking, something inside him almost frantic despite his steady tone. “No one expects that of you.”

“That’s what the physician said as well, but… I’m surprised, Senpai.” Yamagishi’s disappointment is evident. “I thought surely you’d understand someone looking to improve their physical health.”

“W-well, that’s…”

She’s right, though. Shouldn’t he? Akihiko isn’t shy when it comes to dishing out wellness advice, be it on establishing a healthy training regime or learning how to balance your meals. He doesn’t even really like protein powder, but he likes how it sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.

“One day, there might come a time where you all can’t protect me. With each Arcana we defeat, the next is only more powerful. When running away is no longer an option, and our backs are up against the wall, I want to be able to do all I can to not only defend myself, but defend my friends as well.”

It’s… admirable, incredibly so. It’s the exact reason Akihiko pushes himself to the limit each and every day. It’s not about enjoyment—it’s about preparation. Preparation is the only defense against uncertainty and regret. The concept of navigation itself naturally spurs an infinite number of what-ifs, and Akihiko had never considered how those endless possibilities might haunt the girl in front of him.

He really should say yes.

“I’d be happy to set you up with a light dumbbell routine, as well as walking exercises you can do with Koromaru. If you let me know what you’ve been cooking for Yuki, I can give some tips on healthy fats and complex carb intake. But fighting…” Akihiko sucks in through his teeth. “I just don’t think it’s necessary, y’know?”

Yamagishi coming to him means she finds him reliable, and Akihiko values that more than anything. To deny her request risks the possibility of her believing she can’t count on him, and usually this would easily motivate him into action, regardless of whatever feelings he has on the matter. But for once, the reluctance swelling up inside him is nearly suffocating. It’s hard to breathe around it.

To say yes would be to… to what?

Akihiko almost wishes she would argue her case a little further. If they keep talking, maybe he’ll begin to understand the ball of anxiety knotting itself tight in his chest. Roundabout arguments with Shinji always do the job, and Mitsuru’s been a good soundboard whenever Akihiko allows himself the vulnerability.

But Yamagishi doesn’t fight it. She just smiles.

“O-okay. Well… thank you for hearing me out.”

And when she leaves, Akihiko is left feeling more uneasy than ever.

The next few days pass uncomfortably. On Wednesday, they head into Tartarus for a relatively quick search-and-rescue—a young woman who had been reported missing after dining out with her family. The sight of her hunched over in the cold lights of Yabbashah had only amplified the nerves still rattling around in Akihiko’s chest, and he had moved past Yuki without thinking, guiding her to her feet with unsteady hands.

The rest of the night focused primarily on training, members swapping out intermittently so everyone could get their fair share. They haven’t gone to Tartarus as much as they’d usually like, what with how chaotic the start of the month had been. It would’ve been hard enough on its own, balancing two emergency rescue missions on top of an operation, followed by a week of back-to-back summer classes and a mandatory excursion to the summer festival, but now there was also… Amada.

Akihiko pinches the bridge of his nose with a harsh exhale.

Amada.

According to Yuki, it didn’t take long for the kid to politely inquire about his dormmates’ night owl routine. He’s got the potential, a fact that makes Akihiko want to choke out either a sob or a laugh, and there’s no way he isn’t aware of the Dark Hour—something they’ve all taken into account, but Akihiko even more so. Fortunately, for as sharp as Amada seems to be, he’s still eleven with an 8:30 PM bedtime. But if he’s been trying to stay up… Well, they can’t risk being caught sneaking out in their combat gear, so the few nights they have gone end up being twice as much work.

It’s sound logic, but it also leaves Akihiko with too much time to think.

He feels guilt in counting down the days until the next term starts, but the further Amada is, the safer he’ll be. The last thing Akihiko wants is for him to get wrapped up in all this. He’s even laid off badgering Shinji for the time being, much to his old friend’s wary relief. As much as he needs to come back, the whole point is moving on from the past, not moving in with it.

But even as September rapidly approaches, the solace that comes with the thought is uneasy at best. And unlike Amada, Akihiko can’t direct Yuki to gently usher Yamagishi’s attention elsewhere. Not that that’s even the problem—Yamagishi hasn’t once brought up their conversation from the other night, or even acted as if it happened at all, and something about that… really bothers him.

It couldn’t be that Yamagishi hadn’t been serious about her desire to learn; her plea had been heartfelt, and Akihiko could tell she had been disappointed in the outcome. The most logical conclusion was that she had accepted her senpai would be of no help to her, which is… bearable, but that leaves the question as to whether she would still seek out improvement on her own. Yamagishi had said so herself—she was the weakest member on the team. If something did happen during an operation…

No. Akihiko doesn’t want to follow that train of thought. It never leads to a destination he can stomach.

But he can’t help but think back to the woman they rescued the other night, so eerily similar to when they rescued Yamagishi. Except, no, that woman’s spouse had quickly reported her missing, while Yamagishi’s parents were more concerned with her absence affecting the reputation of the school than with their daughter’s own wellbeing. The only reason Yamagishi had even been found was because Akihiko had pushed for it, almost desperately so, but in the end, she had been the one to save herself.

Yamagishi had, in fact, saved everyone.

Objectively speaking, she isn’t helpless. Yamagishi’s abilities not only lie in navigation, but they extend to the battlefield as well. The foundation of Lucia’s existence seeks to protect and uplift those around her, the very same attributes her host holds dearly. Yamagishi’s Theurgy is, in every sense of the word, selfless, and she views the protection she receives in return as something she has not earned, or furthermore, something she does not desire. But the team has to protect her, and surely, if anything did happen, they would be able to protect her. Akihiko could protect her. It’s their responsibility as those on the front lines.

…But she had been bullied at school, hadn’t she? That was the whole reason Yamagishi ended up in Tartarus in the first place. And that Moriyama girl was her friend now, and it’s unlikely that anyone at Gekkoukan bothers her now that she’s living with himself and Mitsuru, but still. If not at school or Tartarus, could she run into trouble elsewhere? Akihiko didn’t want her to—

…to get hurt.

He swallows hard, leaning back into the couch. Was he doing more harm than good, trying to safeguard her from a reality she was already aware of? If something happened to her, even today, could Akihiko’s guidance have possibly saved her? He hadn’t realized until now how much he had come to rely on the assumption of Yamagishi’s guaranteed safety. He’s already extended himself as far as he can go, reluctantly trusting his teammates to take care of themselves. To add someone else to that list, someone whose Persona can’t engage in combat, someone so gentle and fragile, younger than him…

“Geez…”

Akihiko waits around the lounge until far after lunch, half listening to the weather forecast until the opportunity to redeem himself arrives in the form of Takeba and Yamagishi, finally back from their morning out at the mall. The sunlight nearly blinds him as the door stays propped open for a second too long, Koromaru apparently taking the chance to come back inside before the door creaks shut behind all three. The two girls stay in the middle of conversation even as they wave hello, and though Akihiko feels it’d be impolite to interrupt, fate must have known that was an excuse—Takeba announces her detour to the kitchen and so Yamagishi makes her way to the stairs alone. Akihiko gets up with a start.

“Yamagishi.”

She turns around.

“The, uh… dorm board.” For all the time he sat waiting, Akihiko didn’t think of what to say. “It says you’re typically free on Monday and Friday afternoons. Will that still be the case when the next term starts?”

“Oh, yes. Why?”

Akihiko slowly nods. “Alright.” His hands dig into his hips, almost as if to keep himself steady. “Then… meet me by the labs, first Friday after school.” When Yamagishi’s reaction boils down to polite confusion, Akihiko feels his pride take a hit. Has he already become that undependable, or is it his stubbornness that’s to blame? “If you’re still interested in learning, I don’t see the harm in teaching a few self-defense moves.”

Yamagishi’s eyes widen with realization.

“Oh! Really?” Her smile betrays the hesitation in her voice. “I mean, I hope you don’t feel obligated to, but,” she hums with a bow of her head, “thank you, Senpai! I really do appreciate it.”

“What’s this about self-defense?” Takeba peeks out of the kitchen, fresh manicure on display as she stirs her drink. “Fuuka, are you learning how to fight?”

“Ah, well, a little. Sanada-senpai said he’d show me a few things. J-just in case, you know?”

“Really?” Takeba turns to Akihiko. “That’s so cool, Senpai.” And then, back to Yamagishi, “Maybe if things go well, we could switch you out with Junpei. Eh, scratch that, actually. I wouldn’t trust him not to lead us in a bunch of circles all night.”

Yamagishi giggles. “I don’t think I could ever match Junpei-kun’s swing or his enthusiasm, but I’ll try my best to improve my own capabilities.” When her attention falls back on Akihiko, her expression radiates with gratitude. “Thank you again, Sanada-senpai. I won’t let you down.”

Akihiko tries to ignore the pit growing in his stomach.

“Looking forward to it.”

Three days into the new term, Akihiko waits for Yamagishi as promised. Loitering around campus is one of his least favorite activities, as it only seems to encourage the gaggle of girls that stalk his every move, but it’d be impolite to make Yamagishi meet him anywhere else. Besides, it’s not like he could invite her to train in his room back at the dorm—even he’s not naive to how that might look to any outsider… or Junpei, for that matter.

“Sanada-senpai!”

Yamagishi finishes her half-jog towards him, a little out of breath. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. I had to ask Hiraga-senpai something in regards to art club, and then I lost track of time.”

“No worries.” That seems to soothe her. “Shall we?”

Helping Yamagishi out is technically for the benefit of SEES, so there wasn’t any issue gaining access to the boxing club’s practice room on an off day. Akihiko’s generally allowed to do what he likes, being Mitsuru’s right-hand man and all, but he checked with the chairman regardless for Yamagishi’s sake. He seemed delighted, if not a bit surprised at the proposition, which made Akihiko guiltily realize he had kind of been hoping for a third-party rejection.

After instructing Yamagishi to meet him by the ring once she’s changed, Akihiko makes quick work of switching into his typical practice clothes. Compared to mentoring the first-years, this should be a walk in the park, yet he finds himself pacing until Yamagishi comes back.

“Um, where should I set my things?”

Akihiko gestures with a nod towards his own briefcase as he finally makes himself useful, lifting two sets of jump rope off their designated hooks. “With mine is fine. Did you remember your water bottle?”

“Y-yes!” Yamagishi lifts it with the same reaction one might expect from being called on during class.

Akihiko exhales with a slight smile.

“Good, you’ll be needing it.” He makes his way towards her with both sets of rope. “When it comes to any form of exercise, it’s always important to start with a warm-up.” Akihiko runs the folded length of one jump rope through his hand, flattening it before lining it up next to Yamagishi’s waist. “Not only does it raise the efficiency of your heart rate and air intake before your workout, but loosened joints help prevent injury, such as muscle tears or strains.” He tosses the first rope over his shoulder, testing the other. “This one. You want the length of your rope to be a little above your waist.”

“Mm, I understand.” Yamagishi is most likely being polite—she’s bound to have learned this in gym class—but Akihiko appreciates her letting him run through the motions. He just needs to get his brain to shift into auto-pilot. A degree of separation during all this would work wonders.

It’s not that he minds spending the time with her. It’s just… he finds himself continuously grappling with this… perception he has of Yamagishi. He’d like to think he isn’t so critical of the women on the team—he knows firsthand how strong Mitsuru and Takeba are, and Aigis is in an entirely different league of her own. Akihiko can’t blame it on his first impression of her, either; not only did her illness turn out to only be a rumor, but Yuki’s own chronic health has never affected Akihiko’s trust in their leader’s ability.

Even seeing Yamagishi in the school sanctioned gym uniform can only be described as odd, no matter how much he reminds himself that she has the same curriculum requirements as anyone else.

…He just needs to trust in her, the same way he did when he decided to teach her in the first place. He’s sure that once they get at it, and he actually sees what she’s capable of, whatever he’s feeling will finally go away. That hope is probably the only thing getting him through this.

“Right.” Akihiko looks up to see Yamagishi waiting ever so patiently. He almost wants to ask if bouts of silence are a common occurrence for him, or if she’s just that gracious in her time. “Ready?”

“Mhm.” Yamagishi’s posture straightens.

“So. Rope behind you,” emphasized by the light smack against the floor, “and then you’re going to move it forward with small circles of your wrist. Your arms should stay relatively still. Jump over, jump between. Like this.” Akihiko briefly demonstrates, going for an easy set of five. “Once you get the hang of it, start stepping into the jumps. Think of it like bouncing from your back foot to your front.”

As Yamagishi tests it out, Akihiko moves towards the interval timer. “Each round of boxing is two to three minutes, so our workouts follow the same length of time. We’ll be doing a minute and a half with the green light,” tapping the colored indicator on top, “followed by 30 seconds of cooldown at the yellow. Red is a minute of rest. The entire room follows this, no matter the routine they’re doing.” Akihiko softly chuckles. “It’s pretty loud, so you won’t miss it.”

Sure enough, the moment the timer dings four times in succession, Yamagishi jumps with a soft yelp. “S-sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Akihiko replies, admittedly a bit amused. “Happens to everyone.” With the realization she’s most likely waiting for his approval, he gives an encouraging nod before beginning himself.

“Jump rope is a cardiovascular— exercise, great for warming up— cooling down.” Akihiko’s breath comes out in even bursts, moving past the basics and straight to his usual routine. “Nothing’s more important in boxing than— being aware of how your body moves— and how it reacts. Jump rope’s a staple for pros— and amateurs. Something anyone can do.”

“G-got— got it!”

Fortunately, Yamagishi seems to be following her own pace and not trying to match Akihiko’s. He wouldn’t have been able to say the same if their roles were reversed, making that yet another trait of hers to admire. Even so, this is still a leap from her usual sedentary lifestyle. It’d be best not to distract her.

So with the pause in conversation, Akihiko’s thoughts naturally slip elsewhere.

He had almost canceled on Yamagishi, to be honest. Not even really because of her, or whatever this is that’s got him so worked up about her, but just— Amada. Akihiko had given Shinji one good month of reprieve before asking him once again to rejoin, maybe even hoping Koromaru would entice him to just consider it, but of course he said no. He always says no, so what was Akihiko thinking? And then Amada, scheduled to move out the following week, goes and joins SEES a few days later.

It’s laughable, really.

But Shinji finally comes back, and honestly? Akihiko’s over the goddamn moon. But as ecstatic as he is, he also feels like everything’s going way too… fast. They’ve gone to Tartarus nearly every night this past week since Amada joined, and the next operation is already tomorrow night. He knows Yuki’s wanting to catch up on training now that they don’t have to sneak around Amada, and Akihiko agrees, it’s just… Amada’s so eager to fight, and Yuki’s clearly set on spoiling him, or maybe Akihiko is being unfair. He’s never questioned his decisions before. It makes sense the field leader would want to learn as much as he can in regards to the newest members’ combat abilities.

But, still.

And then there’s Yamagishi. Does she still think she needs to fight with Shinji back? Akihiko would ask, but he knows that’s not right. Besides, she’s already doting on Amada as much as his polite distance allows. Her resolve to protect everyone by any means necessary is probably even stronger now, and there’s really no excuse to bar her from getting her own hands dirty when a fifth grader is getting his.

Akihiko pushes through the cooldown.

If he could just talk it out with someone… but Shinji doesn’t want to talk about Amada, and Akihiko doesn’t really want to, either. Mitsuru said they should just keep an eye on him. He could ask Yuki, but what would he even say without revealing more than he’d like? He doesn’t trust the kid? He does, it’s just… There’s something there, isn’t there?

Why does he want to get stronger?

He says it’s to help their cause, but where does that motive come from? Not that Akihiko doubts his compassion or good nature, it’s just… Akihiko fights to make up for what he lost. Is Amada the same way? But how would fighting Shadows resolve his mother’s death unless he knows—

“Senpai?”

Akihiko snaps back to reality.

“The red timer went off.” Yamagishi smiles, still out of breath. “You can stop now, right?”

“A-ah, right.” Akihiko swallows hard around the lump in his throat. His chest feels tight in a way he isn’t really used to. “Sorry. You know me,” barely chuckling as he swings his fist up. “Can’t get enough.”

“Well, I can see why you like it so much. My lungs hurt, but I feel like I can think a little more clearly. The ache feels good, o-or… something like that.”

“I’m glad.” He is. It’s nice when someone likes your hobby, after all. “I’ll show you a few more warm-ups, and then we’ll get started on just your stance today. It may feel a little slow, but that, along with the position of your guarding, is essential when it comes to dodging and connecting punches.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Akihiko doesn’t think about anything else for the rest of the day.

The next few weeks go by better than expected.

It’s easier with Shinji around, like Akihiko can breathe easier knowing he’s right down the hall where he’s always meant to be. That’s not even getting into the benefits of his sheer manpower—the last operation was mere child’s play with Shinji on the team, and they’ve already neared the end of the Tziah block with nearly two weeks left until the next full moon. At this rate, November will be here in the blink of an eye, and they’ll finally wipe their hands clean of the Dark Hour once and for all.

More than anything, though? Shinji seems happier. They’re getting along better, too. Akihiko isn’t stupid, he knows his nagging caused the strain between them, and though he’s never once questioned the endurance of their relationship, it’s a relief to have so many good days between them again. When Shinji barks, it’s less harsh nowadays, like he’s finally lowered his hackles for the first time in years.

He’s even started hanging out with Yuki—which is frankly quite baffling—and though his excuse is “just playin’ nice with Leader,” Akihiko still saw him smile a little as he waved him off. The others are curious about him, too, and Shinji’s too soft-hearted to bat them away like he always has with Akihiko and Mitsuru. He’s letting them in, if only a smidge. He might even make some friends at this rate.

Long story short, Akihiko’s thrilled. Everything feels like it’s falling back into place.

And that isn’t to say he doesn’t still have his moments when it comes to Amada, but when Akihiko has the time away to think, his unease settles, and it becomes hard to imagine much of anything when the kid smiles so kindly. There’s no doubt he knows more than he lets on, and his quiet disdain for Shinji doesn’t feel like it came from nowhere, but… Well, Akihiko doesn’t blame him for however he feels. There’s nothing wrong with feeling things, and maybe one day, when the timing is right, everything can properly come to light. In the meantime, Akihiko… will try not to worry.

Besides, the kid really admires him for some reason. He feels bad for being weird.

All that to say, Akihiko would definitely blame the euphoria of getting his best friend back for why, when Yamagishi requests taking their training to Tartarus, he doesn’t say no at first. But sure enough, once they’ve parted ways and the weight of the request truly settles in, he’s back to those same familiar nerves.

Training has gone… fine, all things considered. They practice boxing either Monday or Friday, preferably both if their schedules allow. To make up for the rest of the week, Akihiko had also put together an exercise routine Yamagishi could do in her room with nothing but a couple of dumbbells. When the weather is decent, she even takes brisk walks to play with Koromaru at the shrine.

Akihiko even went so far as to help with her diet like he originally offered, though that admittedly proved far more difficult than he had anticipated. It’s one thing to give broad advice, he now realizes, and another for someone to inquire about your own habits. He knows, for example, that protein shakes shouldn’t ever replace real food. Acknowledging that only makes him uncomfortable, though, so he settled on a few pointers before quickly moving on. Yamagishi, at least, seemed satisfied.

But even with all that in motion, she now wants to move on to the next step. Akihiko has been hoping this whole time there wouldn’t be more steps. Unfortunately, he’s a man of his word, if not anything else. He has to at least ask. If he’s lucky, their leader will agree it’s not a good idea.

So that brings him to now: Yuki licking the lid of a purin cup.

“Alright.”

Of course Yuki’s fine with it. This guy.

“Are you sure?” Akihiko’s hesitance at the approval of his own proposal clearly confuses his kouhai, whose expression barely twitches. “I mean, you were bedridden up until yesterday. If you’re not feeling your best, or you think it’s not a worthwhile risk on account of her being too weak—”

“Fuuka isn’t weak.” Yuki’s response isn’t unkind, but it is rather matter-of-fact. It leaves no room for argument, something Akihiko would absolutely love to do right now. “After me, I’d say,” stabbing a few times into his custard, “she has the strongest Persona. But that’s counting the fact I have a ton of them. Lucia’s more powerful than Orpheus.”

Akihiko balks. “But Lucia can’t fight.”

Yuki makes a noise around the spoon, pulling it out of his mouth a moment later. “You didn’t ask if she could fight, Sanada-san. You asked if she was too weak.”

Akihiko pinches the bridge of his nose, restraining himself from an outright sigh.

“Right. Then I suppose you’d like to go there tonight.”

Yuki hums. “The usual time.”

So they go to Tartarus.

Koromaru rounds out the party of four as they walk through the entrance, footsteps echoing louder than usual with such a small number tonight. Whether Yuki decided on the dog simply for moral support or under the assumption Yamagishi would freeze up in front of someone else, Akihiko can’t say for sure. The plan tonight is at least somewhat bearable: they’ll stick to the lower levels of Thebel where Yuki will throw his weakest Personas at Yamagishi to determine what exactly Lucia can do. The lack of Shadows involved is admittedly relieving, though Akihiko finds himself fiddling with the straps of his holster all the same.

“Are you sure about this?”

Yuki looks up from where he stands.

“What I mean is…” He knows it’s pointless, yet he can’t resist the urge to try. “I trust your leadership, Yuki. I don’t want it to come off as if I don’t. And I don’t want you to think that I see Yamagishi as weak, either. She’s put in a lot of work these past few weeks and it shows.”

Yuki waits.

“It’s just…” When Akihiko thinks about the bruises across her knuckles, or when she yelps in pain as her swing connects wrong… “You don’t really want to see her get hurt, do you?”

“It’s okay if you’re scared.”

It’s a quiet statement, and there’s no judgment behind it. Still, this is something else Akihiko had wanted to avoid. With how perceptive Yuki is, there’s only a matter of time before he just… gets something, and then everything about him shifts in that moment to meet you at your core. It’s alarming how vulnerable Akihiko instantly feels under a half-hidden stare. It’s like he itches in his own skin.

“It’s not that.” They both know he’s lying. “I just worry it’s unnecessary. It’s one thing when it’s her own hands, fighting off a… mugger, but her Persona? That implies something entirely different.”

“Fuuka’s position is kept in mind for every operation,” Yuki replies, punctuated by a glance towards the girl in question, still preoccupied by Koromaru’s need for a belly rub. ”There’s always someone to guard her, and always a way for someone to get to her. Her and Amada’s safety is the team’s highest priority, but even so. You never know, Senpai.” His gaze is… apologetic. “Things happen.”

Things happen.

What Akihiko wants to say is bullshit, things don’t just happen. The universe is governed by an endless cycle of cause and effect, a consequence to every moment that loops on for all eternity. Man giving himself up to something as ridiculous as fate is only damning himself through his own self-defeat. If something happens, it’s because there's a reason for it. With reason comes prevention. Intervention.

Reason is something Akihiko can control.

…Because without it, then what point is there in any of this?

“Doesn’t that drive you crazy?” is what he says instead.

“A little. Or,” Yuki’s brow furrows, “a lot, sometimes. To be honest, I try not to think about it.” He busies himself with his Evoker, suddenly not one for eye contact. “But you have to when you’re leader.”

Something you and Kirijo-senpai made me.

“Do you hate it?” Akihiko’s hand flexes by his side, suffocating beneath his glove. “I remember you were pretty hesitant when you first started out. Perhaps we should’ve given it more time.”

“Not at all.” Yuki slips the gun into its holster. “I think it’s one of the best things to happen to me.”

“Really?” It’s hard to hide his surprise. “But you just…”

“Don’t get me wrong. The thought of losing any of you is unbearable, but… I can’t feel that without knowing you.” Yuki smiles, just barely. “I missed having something I’m scared to lose.”

The echo of Yamagishi’s footsteps coincide with the pounding of Akihiko’s heart.

Painful, loud, closer than he’d ever like.

“Besides,” Yuki murmurs, “I don’t think either of us have the right to turn her down.”

“Sorry, do you two still need a moment?” Yamagishi slows a few meters away, Koromaru trailing at her heels. “It looked like you were in serious conversation, so I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Y-you’re fine, Yamagishi. Yuki was, uh, just filling me in on the details for tonight.” When Akihiko looks at him for back up, Yuki gives a sort of shrug, rolling his neck. For just a moment, he’s reminded of the unnerving husk he had met months prior, caring for nothing even at the cost of his own life.

I missed having something I’m scared to lose.

In hindsight, it’s with a guilty conscience that Akihiko must admit Yuki’s lack of self-preservation hadn’t particularly bothered him at the time, or at least not enough to consider him unfit for the front lines. If anything, he had admired the second-year’s unwavering focus in any encounter thrown at him. It felt almost like… vindication on his part, a sign that Akihiko had been going down the right path. He hadn’t considered where that detachment came from… what it can do to a person.

Or, perhaps… it’d be more accurate to say he had ignored it.

This train of thought only worsens growing nausea from Yuki’s heartfelt words—a confession most likely intended to soothe him, yet resulting in the opposite effect. Knowing now he would only blame himself if something went wrong, the same as Yamagishi… Well, why would they not? The field leader and navigator. It’s frustrating, the realization of such an obvious blind spot in the perception of his kouhais. They’re not the ones meant to shoulder that burden. What is Akihiko’s purpose if not to carry it for them?

Each step upwards to Thebel is agony.

“I was thinking, Fuuka.” Yuki’s voice carries clearly even as he walks ahead, the tip of his sword nearly dragging across the tile floor. “Since Lucia doesn’t have combat skills, we should probably focus on defensive maneuvers tonight. Once we get a gauge of what she can handle, Sanada-senpai can incorporate it into your training and formulate a plan for you in the case of an emergency.”

“Right. Thank you again for doing this. Um, what would you like me to do?”

Yuki’s sword arm extends out to slow the party once they reach the entrance of a large room. He points to the far left wall before facing them. “Over there should be fine. We’ll get through physical attacks before moving on to magic. I’ll do the slash damage and…” Yuki glances at Akihiko before awkwardly finishing with, “Use a Persona for the rest. Sanada-senpai will stand back and observe.”

Two barks resound behind them.

“Stay on this floor and deal with any Shadows. We’ll call if we need you.”

With a wag of his tail, Koromaru bolts off.

Yuki spares another glance in Akihiko’s direction, lip twitching into a small frown before he ultimately decides not to speak up. Good. He isn’t sure he could even respond, too focused on his fingers digging just enough beneath his armband to try and disconnect the sensor pressed to his sleeve. It’s pointless, maybe—he’s honestly not sure how these exactly work. But if Yamagishi hasn’t noticed his heart rate yet, she will soon enough. And when she does, she’ll tell Yuki, and Yuki will send him back downstairs to wait where he can’t see them and they’ll just keep going and who knows what will—

Akihiko takes a deep breath.

“Lucia hasn’t been attacked since you first awakened, so I’d like to start with testing her endurance.” Yuki adjusts his glove as Yamagishi settles into position. “You’re in a unique position where your Persona is designed to protect you, so I’m hoping she can handle more hits without dissipating immediately like ours.” It’s at this point that Yuki’s frown returns, a little more prominent this time. “I feel like I should warn you, though. I’m using the weakest Personas I have, but their attacks will still hurt. Even ones that only land on Lucia will hurt you from the inside.”

Yamagishi shakes her head, hands already clasped to her chest in preparation. “Please don’t worry about me, Yuki-kun. I’m not scared. If you all can handle so much worse, I can handle this.”

“Alright.” Yuki makes a slight face as he readies his sword. “Could you… duck for this one?”

“O-oh! Yes, of course!”

Yuki takes a short running start before his sword swings near horizontal, blade clashing hard enough against the metal frame of Lucia’s skirt to send sparks flying. The rebound is impressive, or at least objectively so—Akihiko only feels ill at the sight. It’s not like he hasn’t seen this sort of thing before, honestly finding Yuki to be one of the more fun challenges when it comes to a charmed teammate, but this is horrifically different. The sound of the strike reverberates in Akihiko’s head long after Yuki checks that Yamagishi is okay. She is. It hurt, of course, but she’s okay.

He summons some sort of… sea monster for his second attack, and Angel for the third. Despite how lightheaded Akihiko feels, it’s easy to tell Yuki’s purposely avoiding Lucia’s soft, humanoid figure, focusing only on the bubble that protects Yamagishi from harm. It makes sense—Shadows would do the same—but still. It’s something he can appreciate as his chest only seems to tighten with each passing second. Akihiko can only liken it to knowing the inevitable is coming, though what exactly, he couldn’t say. All things considered, this is the absolute safest demonstration they could hope for. He keeps reminding himself this as another shot rings out, soaking the room once again in blue, shimmering light.

Yuki starts cycling through the magic skills.

Akihiko only gets worse.

Garu makes him sweat despite the measly breeze it conjures, skin hot and clammy under too many layers. He tries to think of Takeba, the comfort of a teammate’s assist, but his heart only pounds harder. Whatever Yuki and Yamagishi say after, he doesn’t hear, all muffled voices and blurry faces.

Bufu’s slight chill does nothing to help the wave of hot flashes, only amplifying the innate fear buried deep within Akihiko’s psyche at the scent of the spell. His hands grow numb despite no freeze, both shaking uselessly by his side. He can’t run from this. He can’t fight.

Kouha emits little warmth in its cruelty, a weak light that worsens Akihiko’s dizziness as it pierces from above. When he takes a small step back, he nearly stumbles, his back hitting the rough stone of the wall behind him.

Eiha is the opposite of its predecessor, a heavy air so stagnant as it briefly drains life from its intended target. Its dark embrace, even from here, makes Akihiko’s thoughts sink faster.

Zio’s familiarity relieves nothing, flashes of electricity streaking across Lucia’s frame in a moment that pushes Akihiko to fully hyperventilate, thoughts jumping to heavy thunderstorms and crying all alone.

Being all alone. Dying all alone.

And then Yuki pulls his Evoker to his head one last time, and it’s in that instant that Akihiko realizes the inevitable.

She had died all alone, hadn’t she?

Red, billowing—

Fire.

.

.

..

.

Akihiko comes back to the last remnants of Polydeuces shimmering in the air.

His Evoker is in his hand. He’s not sure how it got there.

Yuki is on the ground.

“Y-Yuki-kun?”

“Shoot,” is mumbled under Akihiko’s breath before a louder, “Yuki! Are you alright?” He jogs over as Yuki starts to stir with Yamagishi on his heels, presumably too stunned to have made a move towards their leader sooner. Akihiko crouches down right as Yuki starts to push himself up, wincing as he does so.

“Easy,” Akihiko breathes, gently holding him in place. “Don’t move yet.” The smell of singed leather is a bit nauseating, but all four limbs are intact. Two eyes Akihiko actually sees for once and one head on his shoulders. Ten fingers and—he’s assuming—ten toes. Everything where it’s meant to be.

Even now, that stupid little checklist of Shinji’s calms him down.

“N-nothing seems to be broken. Vitals are normal… Mm. He might have a concussion, though.” Yamagishi must look at Akihiko then, because she starts to say, “Sanada-senpai…”

“Not now, Yamagishi.” Akihiko takes a breath and restarts. “Sorry,” softer this time. “Anything else?”

“No, um, I think he’ll be fine with some healing. The force generated from your… attack was mainly what knocked him down. It didn’t hit him at all.”

Yuki feels the ground to his right, blind to his Evoker that’s skidded a meter or so away. Akihiko remembers his own and pushes it into Yuki’s hand, helping his finger curl around the trigger. His grip stays loose as the barrel unconventionally presses beneath his chin, followed by the delayed click and flash of a Persona—a serene-looking woman with long, pink hair. Akihiko can’t recall the name, but he does recognize the warm glow of Diarama. As the spell fades, the distant look in Yuki’s eyes does as well.

“How do you feel?” Akihiko leans back to give him space, hand awkwardly hovering over Yuki’s back before falling to his side. Yamagishi picks up his slack, kneeling to gently touch Yuki’s shoulder.

“Better.” Yuki looks up, right at Akihiko. He offers the loaned Evoker. “Thanks, Senpai.” Akihiko feels a sudden, heavy shame in both the item and the gesture, reluctantly taking it back. He grips the gun tight in both hands, brow furrowing as he stares down at the intricate engraving across the barrel.

“Sorry.” He’s not sure what else he could say. “I… don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay,” Yuki replies. “I don’t really like fire, either.”

A few days later, Shinji takes Akihiko out to eat.

“Two specials.”

“Sheesh, won’t even let me choose?”

Shinjiro grunts. “It’s my damn money.” He keeps his gaze straight ahead, arms crossed and looking all grumpy and bothered. It’s right after school, an awkward time when most students are at clubs or cram school and adults are still at work, so Hagakure is nearly empty. In hindsight, Akihiko realizes that this was probably Shinji’s intention. He’s always been better at being considerate.

“So,” Akihiko leans on his forearm, trying to get a good look at his eyes. “What’s the occasion? This can’t just be ‘cause you like me.” That earns an admittedly well-deserved tch in response.

“You’re gettin’ real annoying, you know that?”

“What, so you invited me out just to insult me? You know I don’t need dinner for that, Shinji.”

“Cut the shit, Aki.” Shinji’s voice softens, or maybe it just lowers. “You’ve been skittish for days now. Haven’t been chompin’ at the bit to get a spot on the team like you usually do.” When he looks at Akihiko, the emotions in his face are… difficult to gauge. Annoyed, yes. Disappointed… maybe. “Had to force it out of Yuki that you went friendly fire on him the other night. The hell’s up with that?”

Disappointed, yes.

Akihiko quickly finds himself overwhelmed by the familiar shame of getting scolded. He looks away, fingers finding the edge of his napkin. “Wow. You sure know how to pick a conversation topic.”

Honestly, there’s no one else to blame but himself for thinking Shinji wouldn’t eventually find out. Yuki had agreed it was best to keep the aftermath of Tuesday night from Mitsuru, much to Akihiko’s relief, but Shinji… When it comes to things like this, he usually finds some way of sniffing it out. After all, just because Akihiko can’t read him lately doesn’t mean it goes both ways.

“He’s not hiding that he’s upset, is he?” Akihiko fiddles with the napkin. “Can’t ever tell with him.”

“‘Course not. I’m more pissed that he isn’t.” With no response, Shinji sighs. “He ain’t mad, Aki. And I won’t tell Mitsuru. But Leader’s gotta know you’re not gonna flip your shit the next time something aims at Yamagishi.” He leans in. “That’s what this is about, right? It’s reminding you of Miki.”

Ah.

Shinji never minces words. It’s one of his best and worst qualities.

“It was an accident, Shinji.” Akihiko can’t help the tone. ”A freak incident. The variables all aligned perfectly for one… awful moment.” A little piece of the corner tears off. “It won’t happen again.”

“You had a panic attack, Aki. Barely over a week ‘til the next operation and you won’t even look at those goddamn stairs, let alone climb them.”

“I’m still training, aren’t I? I think even I’m allowed a few days to sort things out.” Shinji only ends up sighing again, which must be a record for getting two of them in under a minute. Akihiko isn’t really in the mood to celebrate, though. Shinji’s hand drags over his face, his gruff word of thanks to the two bowls set in front of them muffled by his palm. It’s a long moment before either speaks.

“I just… wish you'd come to me about this. It’s like pullin’ teeth with you sometimes.”

“Yeah, well,” Akihiko lets out a weak laugh, “maybe I like the reminder you care.”

“Well, I do.”

It’s the response that surprises Akihiko, not the sentiment. When he looks up, Shinji’s brow is furrowed, fist clenched on the counter. A scowl—unsurprising—but beneath it… there’s that little look again. The one thing Akihiko can’t figure out lately. It’s been eating away at him.

“Now, start talking so I can knock some sense into that thick head of yours.”

Akihiko looks back down. Where would he even begin? It’s funny—this whole time he’s been wanting to talk to Shinji about everything that’s been going on, and now here they are, face to face, and Akihiko can’t find the words to say what’s on his mind. He practically had to be tricked to do it, too. It’s just one of his many flaws, he supposes. But this… There’s just certain things he can’t say. It wasn’t just the fire, and it wasn’t just Yamagishi. Doesn’t Shinji get it yet? Their burdens are one another’s to bear, for better or worse.

I was scared he would end up like you.

What a cruel thing to think.

Akihiko has seen how inaction results in death. He’s seen how action has resulted in it, too. It’s terrifying, the notion that no matter what you do, it happens anyway. It’s so terrifying, in fact, that Akihiko largely refuses to acknowledge it. He instead insists on viewing everything through the lens of rigid rationality, knowing full well that the universe is anything but. He’s not stupid. He’s not naive, either. Doesn’t everyone cling to some form of belief system, regardless of its success rate? Why is Akihiko’s so wrong?

If you’re good enough, bad things shouldn’t happen to you.

Akihiko knows they do, anyway.

He’s had to watch Shinji waste away for years now—literally so, to his recent horror—but the death of Amada’s mother was only an acceleration from what originally started with the loss of Miki. It’s not just her that Akihiko failed, but Shinji, too. Shinji, who grew up too fast and too rough so he could take care of Akihiko. Shinji, who joined SEES because he couldn’t trust Akihiko to keep himself alive, and honestly, why would he? Akihiko couldn’t even keep his own sister alive.

Miki and Shinji were always the best parts of him. Why was it them? Why not him?

Akihiko has to believe in reason. He can’t believe in a God so cruel otherwise.

“...I don’t want to go through that again, Shinji. Is that so wrong of me?”

It’s a weak response that does little to reward Shinji’s patience. Not that Shinji would even judge him for that, always the better of the two, but Akihiko can’t bear to look up all the same, staring down at the milky broth of his ramen. He hasn’t eaten much the past few days, but like with anything else, it’s easier with company. He finds the will to lift the bowl and takes a small sip as Shinji sets his down.

“This ain’t about you. If Yamagishi wants to fight, that’s her decision. You’re your own man, Aki, but you can’t control everybody else. Something’s gonna happen no matter what you do.”

Things happen.

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” Akihiko mumbles.

“‘Cause it’s true. You should try listening for once.” Shinji downs the rest of his glass, reaching for the water pitcher. “Way I see it, if you make your problem her problem, you’re just holdin’ her back.”

“But we’re stronger with you back. I’m stronger with you back.” If Akihiko sounds a little desperate, he can’t help it. “Is there really anything we can’t protect her from that she could?”

Shinji scoffs. “What, you plan on being her guard dog? You can’t be everywhere at once, Aki.” Childishly, he wants to argue that he could. Somehow. “But it sounds like you plan on callin’ it quits.”

Is he? Akihiko isn’t sure.

Truth be told, he finally got that perfect out he’s always wanted: Yamagishi had apologized to him soon after they arrived back at the dorm, tripping over her words as she shamefully admitted that she had, in fact, noticed his heart rate and breathing spike a minute before he summoned Polydeuces. She had just been so focused on the training, so grateful for the opportunity, she didn’t think to look over and confirm it was nothing more than Akihiko’s usual excitement towards a good fight. She called herself selfish. And then she apologized again. She said he didn’t have to help her anymore, be it with her Persona or anything else, and he didn’t have to explain why.

But is that what he wants? Or is he heading into one fight just to avoid the other?

“I don’t want to let her down.”

“Taking care of yourself won’t let her down.” Shinji wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, broth running down his chin. “You haven’t had a panic attack since you were a kid.” Akihiko had them before? “If you can’t handle Personas, that’s fine. Let her go with Yuki and Mitsuru. But you like the other shit, right?”

“The boxing? I mean,” Akihiko falters, “I-I guess. It’s… cool seeing her improve. It’s like mentoring the first-years, but we’re actually friends, so we have other stuff to talk about, and…”

Huh. Friends.

Yeah, he supposes they became proper friends somewhere along the way.

Unlike Akihiko, Yamagishi has always sought out connections with others. It hadn’t been long into their agreement before she began to ask about Akihiko’s life outside of the dorm and SEES, whether it be about his school life, his other hobbies, or even anecdotes starring Shinji and Akihiko in their youth. Before he knew it, she had firmly wiggled her way into his day-to-day life, and that had been the double-edged sword—the more Akihiko lowered his guard, looked forward to his time with her, the more scared he became of the inevitable. There’s a reason he’s always kept everyone else at a distance. It was the same reason he had kept Yamagishi even further.

Now he’s friends with a girl who shares his baby sister’s smile.

He can’t even bring himself to regret it.

“No reason to stop, then. The others look up to you, Aki, but it’s never for what you think. You need to start takin’ responsibility for the right things and let go of the rest.” There’s a noticeable pause after, long enough for Akihiko to catch Shinji making that weird face again.

He’s decided that, whatever it means, it’s not one that he likes.

“Shinji?”

Akihiko’s hand twitches forward, but Shinji sighs too quickly for anything else.

“I just… gotta know you’re not gonna keep takin’ all the blame.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“None of your damn business.” Shinji points to Akihiko’s bowl with his chopsticks. How rude. “Don’t let the noodles get soggy. Unlike you, my money doesn’t grow on trees.”

The sudden change in subject is enough to startle Akihiko off his train of thought, blinking dumbly at the largely neglected bowl. “Uh, right.” He picks up his chopsticks, albeit a bit clumsy. Glancing at Shinji who stares right back, Akihiko makes a point of lifting a large clump of noodles, bouncing them twice before shoving them into his mouth. A few hang out as he waits for Shinji’s approval in the form of another small sigh. Akihiko slowly chews, aware of the difference in atmosphere. Not bad… just odd.

Several minutes pass.

“Shinji.” Akihiko spares a glance. “I just wanted to say… you know. About all this.”

Shinji sets his glass down with a look. “What’re you all shy for?”

“Just let me thank you, okay? I know what I wanna do about Yamagishi now. Don’t think I’d have reached a conclusion without you knocking some sense into this thick head of mine. So, thank you.”

“Mm.”

Akihiko smiles. “Aw, c’mon. Was that really so hard?”

“Tch. Just hurry up so we can go home.”

Still, he’s pleased. Akihiko can tell.

So Akihiko continues their training.

And then Shinji dies.

“Thank you again for deciding to meet with me.” When Yamagishi bows, it’s lower than expected. “I… know it’s been a difficult time for you. If you’re not feeling up to it…”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.” Akihiko offers a small smile, hoping that the gesture might soothe her. “Routine feels nice during times like this. Gotta break up the crying somehow.” Yamagishi’s eyes widen. “Sorry,” he adds with a soft chuckle. “Didn’t mean to throw that at you.”

“N-no, Senpai,” Yamagishi stutters. “It’s just… it was a little nice hearing that, I guess? You’ve kept it together surprisingly well the past couple weeks, so it’s a relief to know you’re… feeling it, if that makes sense.” Her head lowers. “That just sounds weird, sorry.”

“Not at all. Shall we?”

As expected, the practice room for the boxing club is empty, though it’s on account of midterms wrapping up this afternoon rather than the usual off day. Akihiko switches on each light as Yamagishi gets changed elsewhere. It’s a slow process of dropping his things before he actually gets to changing himself, peeling off his uniform layer by layer and neatly folding it on top of his winter coat and scarf. It’s strange—he had forgotten how foreign the day-to-day feels after losing someone you love. Perhaps he had just been too young to notice all the differences between life with and without Miki. Now, and probably back then, the world is suddenly in harsh, unforgiving clarity. Akihiko notices every leaf that falls, every drop of water that ran down his shower wall this morning. The mundane is overwhelming, and the ongoing lives of everyone else utterly offensive.

And it hurts, hearing what people are saying. Akihiko just tries to ignore it.

They haven’t trained since that night. It makes sense. Akihiko wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything—still isn’t, if he’s being entirely honest—and he doubts Yamagishi was, either. She partly blames herself for everything that happened, and the added knowledge that Strega’s true target had been her all along certainly doesn’t help. Between her and Yuki, Akihiko isn’t sure who he should scold first. It’s been frustrating, watching the two of them take the blame for a mess that was never theirs to begin with. If Shinji were still here, Akihiko would clock him for even thinking of putting their kouhais in that position.

None of his damn business, his ass.

But, you know, watching them… Akihiko kinda gets it now. It must have been a pain on Shinji’s end, watching Akihiko do the same thing to himself over so many years. Not just from the annoyance, but the compassion, too. It’s hard watching someone you care about slowly become their own worst enemy. Akihiko witnessed it firsthand, after all. And in truth, he never thought Shinji’s situation was as simple as his own. He knew there was a difference between what happened to Miki and what happened to Amada’s mother, even if, at times, his own guilt felt just as heavy. Akihiko just… didn’t want there to be. He didn’t want Shinji to look in the mirror and see a murderer. He sees now that he was always focused on the wrong thing. He was just as stuck in the past as Shinji had been, staring at that empty parking lot.

Had Akihiko ever truly grieved the woman, or just the best friend he had lost in the process?

He has a lot to think about. A lot of growing up to do, too.

That, he thinks, is what led to the resolution that brought forth Caesar. Akihiko hasn’t really changed or anything. He’s still just as angry, lost, and heartbroken as anyone else would be. But that within itself is a start—acknowledging his own shortcomings, or maybe not even that, but just that he’s… human. This whole time, under the guise of some greater purpose, Akihiko had been fighting to protect himself. Loss, companionship… he ran away from it all with bloody knuckles he was proud of. And you know what? He still wants to. He’s terrified. Every other minute of each day, he wonders how he’s even breathing without Shinji around, and he hates himself for ever learning how to without Miki. But Akihiko made a promise to himself and to Caesar, and he has to make good on it. Shinji had told him, hadn’t he? He needs to take responsibility for the right things and let go of the rest. So… he’s going to try letting go.

Not of Shinji, God, no. Not Miki, either. But all this weight surrounding them… he could try. In Akihiko’s desperate attempts to never repeat what he considered his own mistakes, he had largely forgotten what it was about the past that he loved so much. The days the three of them spent together as children, for example, back when the world only expanded as far as the gates of the orphanage. Meeting Mitsuru in junior high and watching her slowly come out of her little rich girl shell. Nights in Tartarus—not the ones with big, grand fights, but the ones where they all leaned on one another on the way home.

Akihiko fastens the velcro of his hand wrap, flexing his fingers to test it out.

When he fights now, it’s going to be because he wants more moments like that.

“Sanada-senpai?”

Akihiko looks up to see Yamagishi taking a little step forward from the entrance, hands already wrapped and still swimming in the jacket and shorts that make up her gym uniform. He smiles.

“Hey. Don’t be afraid to speak up next time. How long were you waiting?”

“A few minutes, b-but it’s okay! You looked deep in thought.” Her head tilts, just barely. “Are you alright, Senpai?”

“Better now that you’re back. Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes! Are we using the mitts again?” With Akihiko’s confirmation, Yamagishi hurries to set down her things and retrieve a pair of boxing gloves. “Oh, by the way. Yuki-kun messaged me to let me know in advance that there aren’t any plans for Tartarus tonight.” Akihiko ducks between the ropes of the ring, pushing one up for Yamagishi as she follows close behind. “I think he walked over to the elementary school campus to take Amada-kun out for the afternoon.”

“Sounds like a good time.” Akihiko watches as Yamagishi gets into position. “Think we can rope them into bringing dinner back?”

“Mm, I can text him again when we’re done. What were you thinking?”

Akihiko hums. “Ramen might be nice.” He lifts his mitts. “Jab.” The sound of Yamagishi’s glove hitting its mark is a satisfying one. “There we go. C’mon,” followed by the shuffle of their feet. “Jab.”

Akihiko has every intention of keeping his promise to Shinji. He’s well aware that his company wouldn’t have done a thing in the end, but knowing what he knows now, he regrets not giving Amada the time of day when the boy had sought it out. Amada knew where Akihiko’s loyalty lay since the moment he joined SEES, yet he still saw him as someone worth looking up to. The kid really is something.

“Keep it up. One, two.”

Akihiko needs a little more time, though. Not because of Amada—he’s serious when he says he doesn’t blame him for what happened. Akihiko just isn’t ready to be there for anyone right now.

He’s not even really here for Yamagishi. He just wanted her company.

“Jab, cross, and hook now. One… two… three. Just like that.”

This time, though, Akihiko’s not going to make the same mistakes… or, at least, he’s going to try. Taking care of himself isn’t letting others down, something he’s had to repeat to himself more than a few times as of late, but he also can’t let himself pull away completely. Not again. Akihiko wants to make sure Amada knows that he’s always here for him, and that he wants to do more for him. As for what, exactly… he still isn’t sure. He’s been trying to figure it out between everything else, and right now his mind’s kinda been stuck on… pancakes. But when it comes to help with that, and for all the things Akihiko knows he’ll never be able to provide, he hopes it’s okay to keep leaning on Yuki and the others. Shinji had been right—Akihiko can’t be everywhere. What he can do is come running when someone needs him, though, and be thankful that there are people in his life who want to cover his blind spots in the meantime.

With that in mind, Akihiko’s arm goes out to catch a punch that never comes. It takes him a second to process the reason for it, and when he does, his eyes widen.

“Yamagishi?”

She’s crying.

“S-sorry.” Akihiko’s acknowledgment must be what makes Yamagishi cry harder, one sharp inhale before a fresh wave of fat tears pour down her cheeks. Her arm comes up in an attempt to wipe her face, hands rendered useless by her boxing gloves. “I-I dunno— I just s-started thinking and—”

Akihiko practically rips his mitts off, letting them drop to the ground as he takes the step forward to close the distance between them. “Hey,” as gentle as he can. “You’re okay.” His hand hesitates for only a moment before it comes to rest on her shoulder. That must have been the only sign she needed—Yamagishi falls the rest of the way forward, forehead knocking into Akihiko’s chest as she lets out another sob. The sudden contact shocks Akihiko, but it doesn’t scare him away. He squeezes her shoulder tight.

“Sorry,” she repeats. “I-I barely even knew him.”

“Nah,” Akihiko murmurs in response. His other hand settles on the top of her head. “Shinji had a bad habit of pushing people away. I’m glad he gave you enough of himself for you to cry about.”

“You… you once told me,” Yamagishi’s voice shaking, “e-everyone always comes back alive, that I was w— worrying too much.” She barely gets through the next sob. “H-he didn’t— it’s my job and—”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t accounting for anyone being an idiot.” Akihiko finds himself smiling of all things. It’s a sad, little smile. “And Shinji was an idiot. That isn’t on you. All that… It was his choice.” Like something he remembers doing a very long time ago, he lightly pets Yamagishi’s hair. It seems to soothe the trembling in her shoulders. “You can do everything right on your end, never make a single mistake, but you can’t stop one of us from doing our own thing.” Akihiko exhales. “It sucks, trust me, but you gotta let it go, Yamagishi. It’ll crush you otherwise.”

Akihiko knows it’s not just the guilt that eats away at her. None of them are strangers to death—Akihiko himself has briefly died on more than one occasion. It’s just one of the many consequences of the Dark Hour, and the biggest reason SEES didn’t risk progress past the first few floors of Tartarus until this year. One might think the discovery of resurrection spells would’ve softened the blow, but it doesn’t. For every variation of Recarm that Yuki, Takeba, or Amada administer, there’s still the feeling of death, and there’s always the underlying acceptance that one day, it may not work. Mana is finite, and things happen. Shadows are one thing. Guns are another.

He can’t imagine the way Yamagishi must have felt it.

Akihiko had held Shinji’s hand until it eventually slipped from his grasp, limp and heavy as stone, but his body had still been so warm. If Akihiko closed his eyes, blocked out the blood and the sobbing, he could have maybe convinced himself that he was only sleeping. Yamagishi didn’t have that privilege. Between Lucia’s innate power and the sensor in Shinji’s armband, she couldn’t turn away from the truth even if she tried. Shinji’s last heartbeat, his final breath… She knows the exact moment he left this world for good, and she has to live with that knowledge for the rest of her life.

It’s a burden Akihiko could never live with.

“C’mon,” he eventually croaks out, long after Yamagishi’s choked sobs have settled into more of a soft sniffling. Despite the lump in his throat, his heart feels lighter. Akihiko pats her head. “Just a few more rounds. Shinji would throw a fit if you stood here crying about him for too long. I know that from experience.” Yamagishi steps back, lashes wet and cheeks blotchy. She wipes her face with her arm once more, exhaling as she does.

“O-okay. You’re right.”

“Atta girl.” Akihiko reaches forward to swipe the last bit of tears beneath her left eye with his thumb. Yamagishi rewards him with a small smile in return. She takes one deep breath before falling back into stance, eyes red and puffy behind her raised gloves. Still, her expression is nothing but determined.

What a sight, honestly.

Yuki was right. Yamagishi wasn’t weak at all.