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Mitsuru stands close beside him – too close, he thinks – because she knows he can't be left alone. As shaken as she may be by Shinjiro's death, she still has to keep an eye on him. She doesn't touch him though, thank God; doesn't put a hand on his shoulder, heavy with the weight of meaningless reassurances. It's okay, it's not your fault, but Minato knows better. He knows that if he hadn't hesitated, hadn't been so wrapped up in his own selfish desires, that Shinjiro would still be alive.
The image is fresh in his mind as if he's still there, watching Shinjiro's blood spill on the concrete. It covers Ken's hand, then Akihiko's when he goes to say goodbye.
He thinks, for one bitter moment, about how he never got to say goodbye.
Minato doesn't remember sitting down, doesn't remember when his breath got stuck in his lungs or when Mitsuru left his side. She's back quickly though, with a glass of water, but what use is that with his throat closing up?
She's patient. She stays sitting beside him, sitting up straight and dignified as always, while she waits for him to calm down. He doesn't know how long they've been there when he starts breathing again, fast but not too fast. He takes the glass she set on the table and raises it to his lips. His whole body shakes almost imperceptibly.
“Arisato.” She finally speaks once he's put the water down. “If you need to stay here tomorrow, I won't fault you for that.”
Minato shakes his head. “I'll be fine,” he says, which sounds like a lie but it's true. He'll get through the day, distant and numb, the way he did before.
Clearly Mitsuru doesn't believe him, but she knows better than to push the issue.
“I'm going to bed,” he continues, pushing himself to his feet. “Um...” He pauses, unsure if he should say this. He decides that he should. “Thank you.”
“There's no need to thank me.” For the first time tonight, there's a soft smile on Mitsuru's red lips. “Good night, Arisato.”
“Good night.”
There are voices during the memorial service, but Minato doesn't know what they're saying. Junpei snaps at them in a drowned out voice that's far away. Everything and everyone sounds so far away. Minato's eyes stare straight forward at the back of the seat in front of him, but he doesn't see it.
He doesn't hear what anyone says. What he hears is Shinjiro's dying breath, screeching tires from a decade-old memory, Akihiko yelling at him to finish the Shadow off. He'd lowered his Evoker instead, because for the first time in years he was afraid to lose something.
He thinks about Shinjiro yelling at him, too, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and demanding to know why he doesn't want the Dark Hour to end. It's almost funny now, in a morbid way. How could he explain it to him – that he's known the Dark Hour since he was six years old, that fighting Shadows gave him a purpose, that he finally felt alive? It wasn't something that could easily be understood, and he knows thinking like that is selfish anyway. Shinjiro would have thought so.
Everyone is moving but Minato stays seated, lost in his thoughts. He feels a hand shaking his shoulder, Yukari's worried voice, but he still can't hear what she's saying. He's faintly aware of Fuuka approaching. Mitsuru. Aigis. Nothing they do or say shakes him out of his stupor, not completely. He manages to stand, though, and Aigis is by his side in an instant. He feels as though he'll collapse, but his legs are as steady as ever.
“Are you alright?” he thinks he hears in Fuuka's shaky voice. He nods. He doesn't see Mitsuru, but he knows she has her worried gaze on him.
Yukari doesn't complain when Aigis follows him to bed that night.
So right now he's got the Evoker against his head and he thinks, imagine if this were a real gun right now. Imagine if it'd always been a real gun; he's shot himself a hundred times over and he's still not dead, not even close. It borders on depressing.
Minato pulls the trigger and, like always, his eyes widen and a grin spreads across his face and this time it's Orpheus that heeds his call. He smiles bigger than anyone, he thinks. No one thinks anything of it, because that's just how it goes during the Dark Hour. Everyone fires their weapons, all mindless smiles, and fights like they want it to end.
Minato knows better. They all know better.
Junpei calls on Hermes and he's fighting fire with fire, a losing battle - the Shadow is immune to his attacks. Either he forgot or he just doesn't care. It's hard to tell with him.
Cerberus enters the fray and Kala-Nemi follows shortly thereafter. Mudoon, Fatal End. One Shadow is gone - Junpei shouts something about Koromaru stealing his kill, or whatever - and another almost down for the count.
He hardly feels disappointed when the fight is over. He doesn't care anymore. He sighs quietly. Everyone knows by now he doesn't want it all to end, but he still has to act like he does. He has to keep the team together. How exactly did he get roped into this, again?
Because Mitsuru asked him. Because fighting the Shadow on the roof was exhilarating and in that moment he'd been happy to be alive. Because he finally had a reason to keep going.
He found a purpose, he finally found a purpose , and now they all want to take it away. He knows he won't live much longer after the Dark Hour ends for good. Well, whatever, he was never gonna survive high school anyway.
He's surprised he lasted this long.