Archive of Our Own ^beta

He was six the first time he died.

It was a car accident on the bridge over the LS Storm Drain, toward East Los Santos, down Innocence Boulevard. That’s what the news report said anyway, the only thing he really remembers is they were heading home after going out to get some tacos.

He remembered looking out the window, watching the streetlights pass by as his mother hummed along to songs on the radio.

The peace was broken by gunfire first and then squealing tires as some members of the Vagos chased people from the Marabunta Grande down the street. The latter running for their home turf. No regard for the bystanders to their chase. Barely any car escaped that night without getting hit by either bullets or another car. Some were worse off than others. His family was one of those worse off ones as the car caught fire.

What he doesn’t remember is how he got out. He must have at some point, the doctors told him his parents died when the car exploded. He was found across the street, thrown by the explosion. So, he had to have gotten out. Had to have been still alive for a while there.

But he doesn’t remember that.

What he remembers is a quiet voice and heat. Not like a wildfire. Not uncontrollable and explosive. But like a campfire. Steady. Warm. He remembers a deal, not the contents of it. But he knows he made a deal.

Except before it was fulfilled, his heart started back up. The EMTs had been successful in resuscitating him. He would live, memories cracked and tarnished. He would live…

The second time he died he was sixteen.

He mostly had been going through the motions of life. Never really did much more outside of that. Apathy was a constant companion. Time passed and he was passed between apartments and housing. There were no orphanages in San Andres, only foster families. Although considering you couldn’t go one hour without hearing police sirens screaming by, maybe that was for the best. All it meant for him was getting first-hand experience at couch surfing against his will.

He didn’t care.

Like watching life from behind a panel of glass. It all seemed so… pointless.

Then he got caught in the middle of a shootout.

In the ten years since the accident, it was the first time he’s been back in El Burro Heights. Not many fosters out in the south of East Los Santos. It shouldn’t have been surprising that within the first few days of being back, he had once again found himself in the crossfire between the Vagos and the Marabunta Grande. And maybe it wasn’t.

What was surprising was the girl, who could have only been around his age at most. She was darting between fences and garbage bins. Inching closer and closer to someone on the Vagos’ side of the fight, who was shouting encouragements to the gang. Someone who, if he had to guess, was the instigator for the conflict. None of the gang members bothered to pay attention to her. But Minato wasn’t them and he realized that she was a woman on a mission. And more important than that, she was an idiot who was going to get herself killed. Stopping the instigator wasn’t going to stop the fight, it would just make Vagos realize that she was an enemy too. And that’s if she was even successful and didn’t get immediately gunned down by the instigator.

And he didn’t care. He didn’t.

But…

But he couldn’t let someone else get themselves killed like that. Luckily, he was used to moving through messes unnoticed. He made it across the fight in half the time. Her narrow-minded focus missed his approach, but he didn’t miss as she pulled out a pistol. He had been close enough to see her hands shake.

If she pulled that trigger then, she was going to miss.

So, he ran as the instigator noticed her.

He doesn’t remember the exact chain of events after that.

He knows that he got the gun from her and shot the instigator. He knows the man dropped like a sack of bricks, that the gunshot rung in his ears, that his arm ached from the recoil. He knows that he grabbed the girl’s hand and ran, adrenaline kicking out all discomfort and pain.

But he doesn’t remember how he got shot. He clearly did if the whole bleeding out was any indication. To this day, he has no idea who got a lucky hit in on him.

The only thing he knows is that the voice calling to make a deal that time was deeper and half-way growling, and it was cold. It was summer, but still the biting and ruthless cold of winter made a home in his bones. It was the promise of death. An oath sworn in blood painted on the cracked sidewalk as dandelions pushed their way through.

Once again though, the deal went unfulfilled. As the girl healed the wounds and his heart restarted once more. That day only partially introduced him to the world that would become the rest of his days. He hadn’t cared, but it was something to do anyway.

The third time he died, he was nineteen and he stayed dead.

The man in charge of the group that sent the girl he saved out on that mission was a cultist. One of the end of the world types. One that wasn’t content with just waiting for it. One with every intention of starting the end himself. And try, he did. Manipulating teens and adults alike. Growing closer to his goal every single day for years on end. Until the day he decided it was enough to try and enact it.

The man kidnapped him early winter. None of the team any wiser.

The end of the world was upon them, and he was the sacrifice to kick it off.

Or that’s what was intended anyway.

It was tied up and staring at the dagger meant to cave in his chest that he realized for the first time that he wanted to live. He wanted the stupid inside jokes back; the midnight ice cream runs; spaces filled with only the turning of pages; dirt embedded under his nails after weeding. He wanted to watch the sun set; to count the stars; to fall in love with the moon. He wanted. He wanted. He wanted.

And then his lungs were pierced because not only was the man an evil bastard, but he was also an idiot and missed his heart.

His lungs burned as they filled with blood. Sharp metal coated his throat as he choked. He instinctively coughed, but it just worsened the pain and brought stars to life behind his eyelids. The world darkened and dragged him down with it. Muffled laughter chased him down to hell, deep into his grave.

No one came to save him. No one would.

Quiet and kind, a voice spoke to him, different from the first he had heard, there was a firmness. The kind that comes from a commanding presence. Between the burning flames and the frigid winter, this one rested in the middle, on the certainty of a beating heart.

For the third time in his life, he was offered a deal.

And for the first time, the deal was fulfilled.

But it was not the third voice who came forth to save the day. No. It was a roar that echoed throughout the room as the temperature dipped below freezing and his flesh knitted itself back together.

The lights cut out and the laughter was long cut off.

Somewhere a bell tolled.

For a moment everything was still. Then all at once there was movement as a blur darted out of the darkness. The light of the moon glinted off of a sword and a body hit the floor, harmed but not dead. Not then. A fight began to rage as flames urged him to move, to leave. To let the battle commence without him. He had paid his dues.

There was shrieking as metal connects and he slipped away under the darkness, guided only the pokes and prods of unseen hands. The air around him shifted as the figure from the dark moved fast enough to create winds that carved the room into disarray. The inferno inside held his face and urged him not to look back. Urged him to keep his gazes only on his escape. The other will certainly follow once he’s safe. But only once he’s safe.

He listened to the others, leaving the madman to his fate, without ever looking back.

Death had followed him all the way home.

Covered in blood, it was no difficult task for the others to realize what had happened to Minato. Time cemented his place in the group while they came to terms with the deceit laid upon them. From accomplice and informant to field leader. He handled his shifted responsibilities with grace. Adapted to the change with the same ease as breathing. It wasn’t the only change he had to deal with after all.

He hadn’t been able to hear them while the deal was unfulfilled, but now that one was, Minato could hear the voices of his Personas in his head at long last. He still couldn’t recall the details of his deal with Orpheus and Thanatos, but both assured him it wouldn’t be necessary, so long as he kept his deal with Messiah, it would be enough. The last dregs of the quiet loneliness had grown used to over the years, shattered with the change. Though two of them rarely spoke, their presences were unmistakable, echoing his heartbeat.

But he could admit to himself, privately, that the brightest spot in all of it was Thanatos. Though he could feel them, he would never be able to reach back to them. At least not the other two. Thanatos though… Thanatos he could touch. Only while the other held a physical form granted, but at least him having one was an option. He was as cold as stone to touch, but Minato never found it in himself to care. Especially after learning that it wasn’t Thanatos’s only difference from Orpheus and Messiah.

Most Personas are reflects of the person they made a deal with, however some… some are different. Some are echoes that sought out the light of their soul.

Thanatos was one of those echoes. Curiosity drew him closer and closer to Minato’s side. Though the deal unfulfilled he was still able watch as Minato grew and changed as he begun to let others in. Curiosity grew into interest, and once a deal finally did go through, he would constantly manifest his physical form solely to walk alongside Minato. To watch him with his own two eyes.

He’d followed Minato and watched the world around them. A growing heart shared between the two of them. At Minato’s side, Thanatos learned love. Love for the towering mountains. Love for the moss growing under the bridge over the creek. Love for the world and everything within it. Love for the companions he now shared a heart with.

Interest grew into desire and Thanatos wanted more than a shared heartbeat. More than friendship. More than to always be at the others’ side. He wanted everything.

Of course, despite their shared heartbeat, none of them could truly read the others’ minds. Only ever the thoughts they wanted to share. So, while Thanatos walked alongside Minato- while he was staring at the world, Minato was looking at him. And Orpheus was looking at him. And Messiah was looking at him. And they fell in love with the moon’s reflection of the sun.

While everyone else was busy piecing together some semblance of a point to their group, the three of them were cataloging every one of Thanatos’s smiles. Hoarding their other half’s time like a dragon. They watched as his face lit up with joy when Fuuka passed him an ID card with the name he picked out front and center on it. Watched that smile turn bloodthirsty and threatening when some random crook decided to pick a fight over the few dollars in his wallet. Watched his smile while it was small as Ryoji fingers gently carded through leaves to nudge the flowers just that little bit closer to him.

Not even his other forms swayed the three’s opinion of him. Neither human nor eldritch or any halfways in-between them could ever strike fear into them despite every intention behind Thanatos’s transformations. Minato could only look on in awe at everything Ryoji was. To Orpheus it does not matter, he would venture through the Underworld time and time again, regardless of the stakes or sights, he would always choose to seek out his loves. Messiah simply saw their love, for no guises or physical looks could ever change the shape of Thanatos’s heart.

The morning was quiet. Minato had slept in, the only thing to do today was a supply drop for the bunker and there was no time of day during which it wouldn’t suck to do. He heard Orpheus hum while he was making something to eat, but there was a suspicious lack of running commentary from Thanatos. The only way Ryoji was getting out of bed after Minato was if Minato hadn’t slept in the first place. It was strange.

Still Minato carried on like every other Tuesday. Which is to say he armed himself to the teeth with plenty of supplies to spare. If he’s going to have to do the drop solo, he’s going to make every single person who dares try him regret it. The bunker isn’t that far, and being so close to Fort Zancudo, it isn’t very likely that anyone would risk starting a fight. However, there has been more than one notable occasion where some bloodthirsty skeleton crew tried their hands at it.  (If he has to deal with another squad of flying oppressors, he will be unloading every form of rocket he has into them, mass destruction and costly resupply be damned. (And no, he is not pouting because his partner has abandoned him to do a supply run alone, shut up Messiah.))

Although despite his many complaints about the danger, he doesn’t take the armored kuruma. Favoring his kind of shitty penumbra. “Lovingly” named ‘Eyesore’ by him (to Ryoji’s great protests.) It was one of the first cars he got after meeting SEES. Above average at best, he has gotten much better cars since, but he’s sentimental, sue him. It’s the car that saw him before he became immortal and then through the time period of lighthearted hazing Junpei put him through that ended in the car being a fuck ugly lime green with a hot pink pearlescent sheen. It makes his eyes bleed every time he looks at it.

In spite of the very large sum in his bank account he has refused to ever change it.

It makes Junpei laugh every time he rolls up with the penumbra. The big ugly kind of laugh where you’re at risk of falling on the floor. Minato doesn’t think Junpei can believe he kept the paint job either.

Worth it.

The pop station blasted through the speakers once the car started, and Minato jumped. When did Ryoji have the time to turn the volume up that much? He turned it down low, but left the other’s favorite station playing, filling the yawning silence that has surrounded him since this morning.

Luckily, his preparations are useless. The only person who might’ve been part of another crew just hung around. Whether they’re one of the few decent people (shockingly) still around Los Santos trying to help play guard, or if they were just curious, he couldn’t tell. But they didn’t start a fight, and the rest of the supply drop was a routine pick thing up from one place and leave it in another. He didn’t even have to help unpack the supplies. One of the newer crews they allied with had some people there and as per usual the might of their efficiency was a force to reckon with. He was finished and heading home in less than two hours all things said and done.

However, during the four hours he still hasn’t heard from Thanatos, nor seen Ryoji. He’s not concerned per se, nothing could really harm personas after all, but it’s not really something he’s ever done. He doesn’t do radio silence unless something is wrong. It’s one of the few times he hates the separation between them. Orpheus and Messiah can’t hide anything from him like this.

Minato sighed, tapping the wheel as he waited at a red light. There is nothing for him to do. All four of them have a stubborn streak a mile wide. If he doesn’t want to say something, there’s not going to be any forcing him to. At least he’s not doing anything else today. Ryoji will come home eventually.

Except he is doing something today, because on the counter is a letter written in a familiar scrawl.

Overarching and once rather cheap, plenty of colors liven these sheets.

… That would explain where Ryoji was.

A scavenger hunt.

You would think they could never get bored in this life, but apparently not.

But it’s kind of sweet. Despite having more than a few days off, they haven’t really used the time to do anything lately. Either Minato has been too tired, or just not in the mood to go out and deal with strangers. He’ll go out with friends if invited or at Ryoji’s request, but otherwise, he’s been bit of a homebody… maybe he should talk to Mitsuru about taking a break, going on vacation or something. There are certainly places outside of San Andreas that Ryoji would want to go. The rest of them may not have anywhere they want to go in particular, but life is for living, and it would be nice to see more of the world.

For now though, he’s got clues to collect. Not that it’s particularly difficult to solve, even if he’d argue Ten Cent doesn’t “overarch” and Ryoji is either being dramatic or trying really to make the riddle seem like it rhymes.

Switching out his armor and weapons for something lighter and more casual, Minato heads out. Taking his Bati 801 out instead on a whim and a complete disinterest in dealing with traffic anymore today. He makes for downtown in record time, netting a few shrieks from passersbys as he cuts it close to the curb.

No Ryoji in sight, Minato disembarks, searching for the next clue. Nothing immediately standing out. It would seem to real challenge is in finding the clues.

Minato spins in a lazy circle.

The only thing special about this place is it being their go-to cinema when they feel like doing something different for once and watching a movie at theater instead of on the couch. Despite his insistence on it never improving the experience, he admittedly does have the timing for getting snacks and getting the best seats down to a science.

Even if he thinks it’s a waste, the other three have always enjoyed it, attention locked on the big screen. And that’s good enough for him personally.

“You know it’s so strange to me how no one ever really looks up, I mean what if there’s something interesting up there?”

“How would you even get anything up there?”

Right, they had a conversation here once about that. It was after some cheesy spy movie that was just terrible. They had been talking about the absurd number of catwalks they spotted in the background but were never made use of. Which lead to talking stealth in games, which lead to looking up. To make a point, Ryoji had done a small hop to touch the edge of the cinema’s overhang… Minato steps between the two doors, looks to the street, and then looks up.

On the overhang a thin strip of notebooks paper is taped to the overhang’s edge. Minato steps closer.

Teens and strangers alike argue over grease in this dying breed of a place to be.

Dying breed? And specifying teens… So not a diner, maybe a mall? But there aren’t really any indoors malls around anymore. The only one he can think is… Davis.

He almost forgot about that place.

After a big fight broke out between members of SEES he went to hide out Davis, he spent a lot of time just sitting around the mall food court people watching, Messiah a silent guard keeping an eye on his six. He had been on edge since the fight began. Ryoji kept him company when Orpheus had gone completely radio silent in the wake of the fight by inventing backstories about the various people in the building. Eventually, tempers cooled, and everyone returned to Eclipse Towers. And Minato hadn’t been back to Davis Mall since, but he still remembers what table they would always sit at.

If the next clue is going to be anywhere…

The parking lot is about as dead as he can remember, but the food court is lively. Their usual table, empty as always. Out of habit he slides into his usual seat, it was always Ryoji who would get their food. Minato would only get a soda from the Icemaiden in the mall before Ryoji started joining him. But from then on, he would always make sure Minato got something to eat.

It was always a knock-off chain that he’s only ever seen in Davis, but the stir-fry was always good despite being a knock-off. He never finished it and would always take the extras back to eat for dinner at the safe house he was staying at. At least for him, it was the same thing. Ryoji on the other hand made it his life’s mission to try literally everything on all the menus. He never found something he didn’t like and frequently made Minato try a bite or two just to watch his reaction.

Despite the circumstances of that lead to them being there. Looking back, it was nice.

Then he reaches for the empty napkin holder and looks at the bottom. Unsurprisingly, there’s a piece of paper taped on it, he takes the paper for himself.

Fathoms below is for the sea, I’ve always wondered what the air would be.

…

What? That’s not even a riddle. He could just look that up at any time. He could’ve used so many things, and he chose that instead of one that points to where they actually would hang out.

…

Then again, Minato knows exactly where he means regardless of that, so what does that say about him?

He skips grabbing anything and heads back out to the bati. The extended drive goes on further. At least there wouldn’t be any need to go out to Blaine County, the two of them only really go out there if there’s a job. Instead, he turns in the opposite direction and down towards the Port, heading for LSX. More specifically the west parking garage.

It’s heavy traffic all the way through, but the sun is shining, and the day has warmed up considerably, there would be no better time for a drive than now. He doesn’t bother with going around the airport, heading straight for the parking lot’s fourth floor, pulling into a spot at the end, facing out over tarmac.

Once upon a time they had come to make use of the flight school here, or well Ryoji was making use of the flight school, Minato very much didn’t want to test his immortality on the jankiest flight school in the world. He’d wait right here, watching people come and go from San Andreas.

Then Ryoji would finish his lesson and come back, his helmet hair somehow getting worse the more lessons he took. But always, always with a bright smile on his face as he recounted the perilous tricks and trails he had blazed. And for as bad as the flight school seemed, Ryoji had ended up becoming one of the best pilots in SEES, topped only by Fuuka who had taken to planes and helicopters like a duck to water.

But the best part would always be afterwards. They’d stop over by the Icemaiden near Del Perro Pier and get shakes and incredibly mediocre burgers. It wasn’t actually that special, nor was the food that good. It was just another nice moment. Made good by the company rather than the situation itself.

There were always some random people blasting music down at the beach that you could hear from the Icemaiden. Orpheus took great pleasure in ranking every single song that played. Ryoji taking great pleasure and egging him on to the confusion of everyone else who couldn’t hear him and Messiah like the two of them can.

It was a really good summer that year.

Minato finally grabs the paper taped to the no smoking sign.

Shiny and blue, it might not be the highest point in the city, but it’s got one of the best views.

Speak of the devil… looks like it’s time to head towards the pier. Ryoji is going to make him do a full loop of the county isn’t he? Minato smiles privately and he hops back on the bati and heads for the ramp on the roof. It is the fastest way down after all. Messiah laughs as Orpheus shouts gleefully. Air rushes pass. It’s good to be alive.

Rolling down Del Perro Pier, Minato comes to a stop in front of the archway announcing the shoot off of the pier where its name switches to Pleasure Pier instead. He walks over to the Ferris Whale and much like Ten Cent Cinema, finds nothing out of place. It’s not like the parking garage or Davis where they have a specific seat, so he doubts he has to ride the wheel for the next hint. But where else would it be if not on the wheel? He tries looking up but doesn’t notice anything- at least at first.

As Minato traces a path around the wheel, he notices a paper shaking in the wind one of the wheel’s posts… right where the rail of the Leviathan touches the ferris wheel.

He snorts. Ryoji definitely just wanted an excuse to ride the Leviathan. It’s not a particularly exciting roller coaster, but both Ryoji and Orpheus are obsessed with riding it every time they come to the pier. He’s always let himself be dragged on by Ryoji’s cold hands and Orpheus’s burning crowding. And though there’s no Ryoji, Minato can feel the heat of the sun poking and prodding at his back as Orpheus pushes him towards the ride.

He waits for the carts to come around.

If the Leviathan is those two’s favorite, it’s safe to say the Ferris Whale is his and Messiah’s. The two watching the ocean’s tides during the day and gazing at the stars late at night. Not that there’s many to look at this close to the city, but it’s never stopped either one of them from looking up. Sometimes they’d come down while the other two sleep just to watch the moon. Depending on the attendant at the bottom, if there’s no one else, they’ll stop the ride near the top for them.

That is unless Ryoji’s there. He always pulls their attention from the sea with ease, calling them to look back at the city. Caught up in all the life that flows through it. The people and the cars flashing by. And light twinkling in the night, the city never going dark. And like a planet caught in orbit, without fail, they’ll drift to his side and look out with him.

The carts pull in and Minato claims the right side of the last one. Focused. While he’s sure Orpheus wouldn’t be opposed to riding it more than once, Minato would like to see the end of this hunt before sundown. He has no idea how many more places are left. He can’t imagine many, but it’s still not something he wants to risk, not knowing that Ryoji is waiting at the end of this. (There’s nowhere else he could be.)

The paper rips as he grabs it, but luckily Ryoji seemed to have planned for that as the words squish to the left side of the page.

It has everything a good city needs, but the roof of it is the place I’d rather be.

Town Hall. Its building has the public library, and the police and fire departments connected to it. But he has to be just messing with Minato to put the next clue on the roof. One of the most mortifying moments for him, getting stuck up there. He’s just lucky that Mitsuru was kind enough to bury every news report about the incident afterwards, he doesn’t think he’d ever live it down otherwise.

It had been shortly after his deal with Messiah, he still wasn’t used to the powers personas provide, but it hadn’t stopped him from winding up in a shootout in Rockford Hills. When the police showed up, he had tried hiding out in the one place they wouldn’t expect. It had worked on the police, but because of the recent threat he had been partially transformed. Which is very important to note, because it meant he still had wings. So, when Ryoji had suddenly pop out from behind him, he jumped, and it launched him all the way up to the peak of the entryway’s rooftop.

He did not trust himself enough to be able to glide down, so he was stuck there while Ryoji laughed. It was his fault Minato even had wings while transformed, but he refused to explain whatsoever about how to use them. At least at that moment.

Eventually, everything calmed down enough for the transformation to go away and Ryoji to take mercy and go ask the fire department for some help. They hadn’t asked too many questions thankfully, but he has never lived it down.

Ryoji did later take him out to Tataviam Mountains to teach him how to fly away from any prying eyes. Using the mountains to practice gliding down and the land around the reservoir to practice going up. It took him two weeks to figure it out and he still hates flying with a passion. He’s quite fine on the ground, thank you very much. Others may enjoy their wings, thinking of them as extensions of themselves, but Minato could never. They’re more hindrance than help in his personal experience, even without the flying mishaps it just gives people a larger target to hit as far as he’s concerned.

Of course, while he might not like the wings he has, Ryoji on the other hand… It’s clear as day he loves them. Constantly bringing them out to make sure they’re nice and neat. Something he’s enlisted Minato to help with more times than he can count. Not that he’s complaining. The silken black feathers are a sight to behold, and he likes those quiet moments at home. Just the four of them together, a peaceful silence filling the air. Not for a lack of things to talk about, but simply because they don’t need to talk to know how each other feels.

The only thing Ryoji loves more is flying. You’d think he was born in the sky with how often he can be found up there. Though a now accomplished pilot, he still prefers his wings. At home when he can feel the wind rush past him. Dancing in the breeze. Minato could never stand to fly himself, but he could watch Ryoji light up the sky for the rest of his life and be at peace with it.

Which is why it’s not surprising when Minato gets to the library, he spots a paper wedged near the very top of the entry’s towering archway. Ryoji almost certainly had flown up there to get it where it was.

It’s an open space, so Minato could get up there by flying. However, it’s for this exact reason he learned how to not need to. After many attempts at teasing him, by putting random objects out of reach, Minato found a group who practiced doing parkour and had asked to join them. He still frequently accepts invitations to go to check out new spots they found to try exploring.

He remembers surprising the leader of that new group, the Phantom Thieves, once with the fact he could also do the same parkour and acrobatics that the group had made their signature. Between him, Orpheus, and Messiah, there was very little that was out of reach for them. Spotting pathways the other two might have missed. The other two focused on the how to get from point to point long before Minato reached the first spot so he could focus solely on executing the movements to perfection.

And they’re focused now, while Minato heads up to the roof, accounting for the smooth stone and thin ledges. Luckily from the roof, with there’s a short path he can take up the decorative outcroppings and over to the front of the entry. He retrieves the paper but waits to read it until he is back on the roof proper. He does not trust these shoes on the thin ledges that make up the entryway.

Last of its kind, long derailed, it hosts plenty of foods and snacks for the wandering and weary.

Minato snorts, go all across Los Santos and the next hint he could throw a rock and hit from where he’s at. Last Train in Los Santos Diner, the whole team’s go-to place for dinner since moving into the Eclipse Towers with the others. There are nicer places elsewhere, but nothing quite sits as right as filing into the small train car and getting the world’s okayest breakfast foods. Loud and rowdy, almost certainly annoying what sparse customers are already in the diner. He’s pretty sure the employees only let them get away with it because between the ten of them, they probably tip well over 100% just because none of them can be bothered to count and would feel bad if they didn’t tip them.

Although he’s been plenty even without the others. There’s a lot of times after a big job he’s drag himself through the doors, accompanied only by his personas and munch on some doughy french toast sticks as the adrenaline fades and his energy crashes into the dirt. Having been so much that everyone who works there recognizes them and has their orders on grill by the time they sit down. He’s pretty sure they were bets among the staff before he started dating Ryoji for when they would get together. He has no idea who won, but the kitchen was very loud the day the two had shared a kiss whilst waiting for their food.

But the most notable moment wasn’t any of their normal post-job dinners. Instead, it had been him, Ryoji, Junpei, and Akihiko. After an intense competition at Eight-Bit the four of them had piled into the Last Train before heading home for the night.

That wasn’t the notable part. The notable part was when they were going to leave, Ryoji had dipped out first without notice and had hidden under the train. Waiting for Junpei to walk out the back before jumping out to scare him as an act of revenge for an earlier attempt at sabotage during the competition that Ryoji had not let go forgotten.

Junpei had jumped nearly three feet into the air and promptly fell on his ass, knocking up dirt and dust. Ryoji had been loudly crowing about his successful revenge scheme while he and Akihiko fought valiantly to pretend like they weren’t laughing. They had failed rather miserably. But Minato did remember to take a picture so at least there’s that. He still has the picture saved on his phone. Permanently saving the image of Ryoji fists in the air shouting with unabashed glee as Junpei sits in the dirt, pouting. It’s incredibly blurry from him shaking with barely restrained laughter, but he refuses to ever delete it.

Minato looks at it sometimes, like he does with many of the candids he’s taken of Ryoji. Just to take a moment and look at his smile. Sure, he can always go see Ryoji smile in person, but he likes the reminders of those moments exactly. Finding it’s the little moments with others that mean the most. Grand gestures are beautiful, but ultimately temporary. The little things? The little things are forever.

Minato doesn’t even waste any time, ducking down and swinging himself below the train to grab the piece of paper tangled in the metal.

The roads may wind, but behind you as the crow flies stands a testament through time to the stars.

And Minato’s off before he knows it, a knowledge deep in bones that this was the last clue. Racing up the roads, becoming one and the same with his motorcycle as he cut through the winding halls of Vinewood Hills. Flying into Galileo Observatory’s parking lot all to only catch the lone figure up top of the park’s hill in the corner of his eye. He squints into the distance as the setting sun catches on a bright yellow scarf fluttering in the wind. Minato practically wrenching the bati around as he takes off down the park trail and towards its peak.

He barely stops the motorcycle before he disembarks and climbs the last slope. Clawing through the dirt and rocks, he reaches the top to find Ryoji standing tall, looking directly at him, smile on his face. He barely registers the basket and blanket anchored down by his feet. Lit up by the dying sun, Ryoji is cast in a golden glow. And the three of them? The three of them are helpless to the sight. He holds out a hand, outstretched and Minato stumbles towards his open arms like he’s dying.

In spite of the weakness in his knees Minato still teases, “There are easier ways to say you want to have a picnic.”

Ryoji’s smile outshines the sun. “Those are less fun.” Their fingers are interlaced at their side.

“Mmm. What’s the occasion?” Because there is one, there has to be. Ryoji planned this out in advance. He doesn’t do planning, preferring life as it comes. Serendipity his guiding action.

His smile turns coy. “Can’t the personification of death just want to have a nice picnic with his immortal boyfriend?”

“No.”

Ryoji laughs as he pouts, hitting Minato’s shoulder lightly with the hand not holding his own. “You’re so mean to me.”

Minato smiles before nudging Ryoji. “You’re not usually the one who does the reminiscing.” Endlessly caught up in the present, the past and future hold little regard to him. It doesn’t actually bother Minato that much in spite of his occasional complaint about Ryoji’s shortsightedness.

Ryoji doesn’t answer though, gently tugging at Minato’s hand and pulling him to sit down on the blanket. He’s not looking at Minato. Their knees touch.

Minato cups Ryoji’s cheek with his free hand. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicker back to Minato for only a moment. Lips pressed together tightly, he leans into Minato’s hand before he finally whispers, “Do you remember six years ago?”

Idly, Minato’s thumb rubs Ryoji’s cheek. “What do you mean?”

He looks further off to the side, if that’s possible. “When you first met Yukari? That shootout.” His free hand wears at the edge of his scarf.

Oh. That’s what this is about.

Admittedly he had forgotten what day that was. It’s been a while since he last thought about it, especially when there’s so much he forgot about it already. “… Our deal.”

Ryoji hums, nerves leaking out even in the smallest of sounds.

“You’re a dork.”

It startles the other and he practically jumps, gapping at Minato. “Hey!”

Minato scoots closer, squeezing Ryoji’s hand. “Death is celebrating the anniversary of someone dying, news at five.”

Ryoji shoves him and the two quickly devolve into a play fight, musing the blanket underneath them as they tussle and roll. Both attempting the pin down the other. Laughter-filled arguments echoing in the open air as the sun dipped below the horizon. Somehow, they avoid knocking over the basket of mystery goods. The shifting air as it becomes colder with the rise of nightfall is a blessing on their heated skin as they pant through delirious smiles. Annoyingly Ryoji wound up on top.

“I was-“ He heaves between gasps of air, “Trying to be serious!”

He smiles openly at his lover, face flushed. “Unfortunate.”

The moment sits between them as they catch their breath, smiles slowly turn softer as the high energy dips down. Ryoji is practically straddling Minato where he lays mostly on the blanket, his head and shoulders hugged by coarse grass and wildflowers. Somehow in all of that, their hands still are tangled together, resting by Minato’s head. His other hand on Ryoji’s arm, where he’s braced against the ground to hold himself up, hovering over Minato.

“It was the first time we met,” Ryoji says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“It was.” Fond being the only way one could describe Minato’s tone.

“I liked you.” He lightly squeezes Minato’s hand. A gesture he’s quick to reciprocate. “Even then.”

“Love at first sight,” Minato gently teases.

Ryoji smiles down at him. “Something like that.” The chaos of San Andreas far away even as the cities light up, reflecting stars in the corners of Ryoji’s eyes. “I love you.”

Minato smiles up at him. “I know.” Becoming wiry as he continues, “You made an entire scavenger hunt about it.” He beings their held hands up to lightly knock the side of his head against them. “We’ve gone to better places, you know.”

He huffs. “Yeah well, I liked these ones the best.”

Voice soft, Minato agrees, “I did too.”

Ryoji leans down closer, whispering against Minato’s lips, “I know.” Before he kisses him. Unhurried and languid, it feels like coming home. And Minato’s hand migrates from Ryoji’s arm to his cheek, pulling him closer still. They part slowly, their eyes fluttering open. “We should eat.”

Minato lets him go. Easily, accepting the hand that pulls him up into a sitting position. “What did you even pack?”

He lights up, Minato watches his smile. “A lot of things! There’s these little sandwich things I made with Fuuka…”

And the world fades into the backdrop, leaving just two bodies sitting together in the dark atop the hill overlooking Los Santos and Blaine County on either side.