you've drawn me into your world

[imugi]

title: bloody moon ii.

series: Persona 3
characters: Akihiko & Shinjiro

rating: pg-13

summary: Continuation. A story about what it means (or doesn't mean) to cope.
author notes: Can act as a standalone.

“Looks like you have a problem.”

The Dark Hour. Shinjiro thought that the man standing there looked like a ghost, all pale and sickly, the reaper dressed up in the face of salvation. The green sky and the yellow moon loomed overhead, casting ugly shadows across his visage, making it seem as if he'd just crawled out from the bowels of the earth. Maybe it wasn't too far from the truth. Maybe it was all a load of bullshit.

“You need not fear this power that has been gifted to you.”

He spread his arms, thin and bony, hovering over where Shinjiro was seated. Shinjiro felt a protest bubble from the back of his throat, acidic like bile, but found that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His fingers were frozen against the pavement, digging into it until his fingertips started to bleed. He could barely feel it beyond the numbness harbored by the cold.

“I can save you.”


.


He hadn't summoned Castor once since that day. It wasn't that he could ignore it or forget what had happened— That thing, that power was a fragment of his own soul. If it reflected everything about himself, then what did that mean? That he was strong? That he was destructive? That he was a killer? That monster shining in the black sky that night had been a mirror of himself, something both awe-inspiring and terrifying, that he couldn't look away from.

He still tried. But he knew from the start that he couldn't avert his eyes forever. It was the cold feel of metal— the barrel of an evoker pressed against his temple— that reminded him of that.

Aki was standing parallel to him, expression set. But Shinjiro knew him well enough to notice all of the subtle reactions the simple action invoked, from the way his muscles tensed to the way his lips pulled back, even the slight shift of his stance. Hesitation. It was something incredibly rare in Aki when it came to fighting, came to things that actually mattered to him. He never pulled his punches and he never, never looked back.

Shinjiro felt his own lips pull back despite himself, an ugly sort of smirk, something to mask the frantic pounding of his own heart in his ears. “You scared?”

Aki's eyes widened marginally, an expression on his face like he'd been struck. Only when he clenched his fists did it become clear that his hands were trembling.

“Damn it, Shinji... Just do it.”

Shinjiro felt like he was seeing it all over again. He'd clawed at his face until he'd left a bloody trail along the length of his cheek, but no matter how much he'd cried out for it to stop, he'd been left standing before a mountain of smoke and dust and rubble. Castor lit up the sky like a beacon, but it wasn't out to save anyone.

He'd seen Aki illuminated by that glow, wide eyes fixed to the almost translucent image in the sky. His mouth had fallen open, but no sound had come out. In the aftermath, he'd fallen to his knees, overwhelmed. Or, no— Was it something else? Shinjiro's jaw had clenched painfully.


Are you scared?


A click, and suddenly there was a second evoker pressed to his forehead. Aki stared at him from down the length of the barrel, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. Amongst them Shinjiro could pick out something like grief, trepidation, and a heart-wrenching sort of affection. He was such a fucking sap.

“Shinji,” his voice was shaking, “Do it. Or I will.”

Shinjiro's expression shifted, angrier now. “You think you can do it, huh? Press a gun to my head and pull the trigger?”

Aki was predictable by now. Whatever resolve he'd managed to muster just then crumbled; Shinjiro could see it in his eyes, felt it in the way the barrel pressed to his head faltered. But then he pushed forward, suddenly desperate, and Shinjiro was forced to take one, two, three steps back. He couldn't remember why they were here. He couldn't remember why they were standing here, under a green sky and a yellow moon, two evokers pressed against his head.

“I'm not afraid,” Aki said, and it wasn't a lie. “Not for myself...” his words trailed off and his face fell, the evoker dropped.

Shinjiro laughed humorlessly, and pulled the trigger.


.


Aki had always been a bit of a clingy bastard. Even when they were kids, even when they'd get into stupid fights over the stupid shit Shinjiro would pull, even when Aki would punch him and cry and beat the shit out of him. The fact remained that, for the longest time, the only things they'd had in the world had been each other. And, for the longest time, they hadn't needed anything else.

Well— Shinjiro hadn't. But Aki was always looking for something he was sure was waiting for him in that distant future. That sort of thing made him awkward and detached, so he never really hit it off with others in school, despite his apparent popularity. Shinjiro skipped classes too often to foster any real attachments, and didn't really care to in the first place.

Aki found that thing he'd been looking for. The two of them had fallen into the Dark Hour together by chance— their persona had probably likewise awakened simultaneously. Some kind of twisted string of destiny? Maybe.

But something about that hidden hour always made Shinjiro feel lightheaded.

“Forget it. As if I'd let you go out there without me. Not gonna happen.”

“But— Shinji...”

“Shut up.”

He shoved the other boy roughly, sent him stumbling back into the couch. He only waited long enough for Aki to sigh and collapse onto his stomach before moving over, plopping himself down on one of the ends. For a time it was actually quiet, Shinjiro watching Aki pull off his gloves and flex his fingers. A good pair of boxer's hands— They were something to be admired, even if Aki hid them away most of the time. Misshapen from countless fractures and scarred as they were, they were reliable.

Eventually Aki turned his head, peering back over the curve of his arm, probably having sensed that he was being watched. It didn't seem to bother him.

“Your persona... it's pretty strong. Not that I'm surprised, but...” he laughed, “I'm a little jealous.”

Shinjiro cocked his head a bit. “Oh, yeah?”

“Guess that means I still have some catching up to do. I'll get even stronger.” There was a solid determination in those words. “But that shouldn't matter as long as we're fighting as a team. I don't think anything will be able to stand in our way.”

Shinjiro almost believed it himself.


.


The ground was charred in the space between them, the remnants of a crack of lightning, fast and vicious. They both stood rooted to the spot, neither bothering to breach that distance. Floating midair, just above their heads, two glowing figures likewise stared each other down— a mirror image of each other, Gemini stars in the sky. He couldn't remember why they were here.

“We ain't kids anymore, Aki. I can't babysit you forever.”

There was something strained in the way Aki's expression shifted. He knew what Shinjiro was really trying to say, no doubt. I can't stay with you. Not anymore.

“I know. Even so...”

Shinjiro's tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, frustrated, and he turned to look at his persona— a piece of his soul, a mirror of himself. He thought he could feel the drugs working through his bloodstream, like something was pushing against his skin and twisting his insides. Maybe Castor felt it too, because he inclined his head slightly, and the horse-like creature let out a derisive snort.

That's it, huh, Castor? Nothing's gonna save us now.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, the arm still holding the evoker, and he turned to find that Aki had taken the first step forward. They were uncomfortably close now, even though the two of their personas maintained their distance from each other, never budging.

“... I want you to come back,” Aki said finally, and the admission seemed to leave him vulnerable enough that Shinjiro would have recoiled if not for the hand on his wrist.

There was that hopeless kid that had been afraid of lightning and thunder, the same one that had grown up to master electricity itself. There was that awkward kid that was no better at making friends than his sister had been, the same one that had grown up fighting to protect people he didn't even know. He was still trying to make up for something, wasn't he?

The clock ticked 12:01, and the two glowing images in the sky vanished. The streetlights flared to life. Time started moving again.

“... See that, Aki? Time for you to go.” He pulled his hand back and thrust the evoker into Aki's arms, nudging him forward in the direction he needed to leave. “You just keep looking forward like you always do. Don't stop here.”

Aki had his mouth open ready to protest, but promptly clamped it shut at the last line, almost disbelieving. It morphed quickly into something like a disappointed resignation.

“Yeah, I— Yeah. Right.” He turned around, adjusting his gloves. “But don't think I'm giving up.”

It was never really that easy. Shinjiro somehow managed to resist the urge to snort.

“Never expected it.”