Shinjiro Aragaki (荒垣 真次郎) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themortalhalf) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
destinystrings2012-09-29 01:56 pm
themortalhalf) wrote in destinystrings2012-09-29 01:56 pm
[Closed] Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain
Who: Shinjiro Aragaki (themortalhalf) and Miki Sanada (helenchanted) and Akihiko Sanada (risetocaesar).
Minor appearances by Minako Arisato (greatseal) and Minato Arisato (fools_journey)
Where: Shinjiro's Apartment (Libra 7-06)
Summary: The orphan trio has a lot of catching up to do. Continued from here.
Warnings: Some possible language on Shinjiro's part. Teal deer. IDK.
Shinjiro pours the green tea he's made into two ceramic cups, leaving them onto the counter near the side of the sink absentmindedly, giving the tea a few minutes to cool while he waits for Miki to get back from changing out of her festival clothes. Perhaps she hadn't needed to, but what they had needed was a few minutes to breathe, and he was more than willing to give her as much space and time as she needed before coming down to his apartment again. They both needed a few moments to themselves before diving into things. Most of which he wasn't looking forward to telling her. Not when she had looked so upset and confused as it was—though she seemed to possess the Sanada habit to recover fairly quickly, all things considered. Meanwhile, he's still trying to digest some of the things Minako had told him.
He wonders then if he should make something quick and more substantial to go along with the tea, though decides against it seconds later. Food would only be an unwanted distraction that would probably be left mostly untouched. And... hell, he doesn't even know what food Miki likes now. That alone makes him suddenly and painfully aware of the divide that's between them. She seemingly knows him, but... he doesn't know her. Just the shadow of her that rests in the dust-filled hallways of a part of his life that's come and gone.
She was clearly different now, exuding the type of confidence he never expected out of the little girl that was, in his mind, little but a fragment of memory a decade decayed. He suddenly feels inadequate. He isn't her Shinjiro, after all. He'll never remember her like she might be expecting him to. He doesn't know how to fix this kind of thing. How to start over. Continue from where they left off. It had been ten long years for him. Who knows how long for her. This place was a pain in the ass, even though no words can quite express how happy he is to know that she's been able to make a life for herself somewhere, and that he and Aki had maybe been able to be a part of it—for a little while, at least. And it's comforting, in a way, that he has the chance to see what kind of person she could have been, as much as it pains him to see the potential that was cut short in his own.
He finally sits in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning his elbows on the table, watching the door. He no longer feels the sting from the scrape on his face from where the geta had hit him, though he can still feel the rough redness that's making his eyes feel dry and irritated, though he had managed to dam everything back as they had made their way back to the apartments. Shinjiro hadn't trusted himself to talk for more than a few words at a time, and his mind was busy enough trying to figure out what to do. How to tell her the things she needed and deserved to know, and how to ask the questions of her that needed to be answered. He had to be so damn sure about everything this time, about who she was (though he didn't doubt it), about what had happened in her timeline and where they stood at this point, that it would kill him to find out that he was wrong.
He couldn't bring Aki into this until then. He could do that much for him at least—and her. He didn't know what kind of timeline Miki had been taken from, but she couldn't have any idea how her brother had lived on his side. How he probably couldn't pass a single toy store without thinking of her. There's a reason they rarely brought her up.
He picks up his COMP then, absentmindedly at first, before he fires a text message Minato's way.
Make sure you get the right tank with a filter.
10 gallons if she's bringing home one. Bigger if she wants more.
Though maybe they had already found something at this point. He doesn't know. But the text would do its job. It says "look after your sister" just as much as it says "we're fine, so stop worrying." As "fine" as things can be, anyway. And Minako will know about it if she's around. Might keep the eventual interrogation at bay for a little while longer.
And now he all he can do is wait. For the tea to cool and Miki to come back and his emotions to settle.
themortalhalf) and Miki Sanada (helenchanted) and Akihiko Sanada (risetocaesar). Minor appearances by Minako Arisato (
greatseal) and Minato Arisato (fools_journey)Where: Shinjiro's Apartment (Libra 7-06)
Summary: The orphan trio has a lot of catching up to do. Continued from here.
Warnings: Some possible language on Shinjiro's part. Teal deer. IDK.
Shinjiro pours the green tea he's made into two ceramic cups, leaving them onto the counter near the side of the sink absentmindedly, giving the tea a few minutes to cool while he waits for Miki to get back from changing out of her festival clothes. Perhaps she hadn't needed to, but what they had needed was a few minutes to breathe, and he was more than willing to give her as much space and time as she needed before coming down to his apartment again. They both needed a few moments to themselves before diving into things. Most of which he wasn't looking forward to telling her. Not when she had looked so upset and confused as it was—though she seemed to possess the Sanada habit to recover fairly quickly, all things considered. Meanwhile, he's still trying to digest some of the things Minako had told him.
He wonders then if he should make something quick and more substantial to go along with the tea, though decides against it seconds later. Food would only be an unwanted distraction that would probably be left mostly untouched. And... hell, he doesn't even know what food Miki likes now. That alone makes him suddenly and painfully aware of the divide that's between them. She seemingly knows him, but... he doesn't know her. Just the shadow of her that rests in the dust-filled hallways of a part of his life that's come and gone.
She was clearly different now, exuding the type of confidence he never expected out of the little girl that was, in his mind, little but a fragment of memory a decade decayed. He suddenly feels inadequate. He isn't her Shinjiro, after all. He'll never remember her like she might be expecting him to. He doesn't know how to fix this kind of thing. How to start over. Continue from where they left off. It had been ten long years for him. Who knows how long for her. This place was a pain in the ass, even though no words can quite express how happy he is to know that she's been able to make a life for herself somewhere, and that he and Aki had maybe been able to be a part of it—for a little while, at least. And it's comforting, in a way, that he has the chance to see what kind of person she could have been, as much as it pains him to see the potential that was cut short in his own.
He finally sits in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning his elbows on the table, watching the door. He no longer feels the sting from the scrape on his face from where the geta had hit him, though he can still feel the rough redness that's making his eyes feel dry and irritated, though he had managed to dam everything back as they had made their way back to the apartments. Shinjiro hadn't trusted himself to talk for more than a few words at a time, and his mind was busy enough trying to figure out what to do. How to tell her the things she needed and deserved to know, and how to ask the questions of her that needed to be answered. He had to be so damn sure about everything this time, about who she was (though he didn't doubt it), about what had happened in her timeline and where they stood at this point, that it would kill him to find out that he was wrong.
He couldn't bring Aki into this until then. He could do that much for him at least—and her. He didn't know what kind of timeline Miki had been taken from, but she couldn't have any idea how her brother had lived on his side. How he probably couldn't pass a single toy store without thinking of her. There's a reason they rarely brought her up.
He picks up his COMP then, absentmindedly at first, before he fires a text message Minato's way.
Make sure you get the right tank with a filter.
10 gallons if she's bringing home one. Bigger if she wants more.
Though maybe they had already found something at this point. He doesn't know. But the text would do its job. It says "look after your sister" just as much as it says "we're fine, so stop worrying." As "fine" as things can be, anyway. And Minako will know about it if she's around. Might keep the eventual interrogation at bay for a little while longer.
And now he all he can do is wait. For the tea to cool and Miki to come back and his emotions to settle.
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Miki's thoughts were racing as much as her heart and the way she tore inside the apartment corridors. The roller coaster of emotions that night was already making her head spin, and she had a feeling what was soon to happen was going to make it worse. There were so many questions in her head now that she could think of them attempting to grab everything that was important.
What did he look like? He was in SEES too, so that meant he had a Persona. What was it? How did he fight? Would she be able to recognize him? ...would he recognize her...
She swallowed again and before leaving, managed to grab the tissue box that had been placed in her bathroom before her arrival. They would probably need this.
When she arrived in Shinjiro's apartment again, she was carrying a pretty large load that threatened to topple over. Considering her thoughts, it was a miracle she hadn't forgotten anything.
"Okay. Think I got everything." It was now or never.
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But there's not much of that kid left now. He can only arch an eyebrow at her as she comes through her door. Faintly amused, maybe, but there's more regret there than anything. His eyes are still red, and even though she's here he still feels just a bit empty. And even though the small smile that ghosts onto his face as he stands up from his place against the wall—he hadn't moved when she had left—is genuine, time and life has gotten to it.
He doesn't even think he's said her name yet.
He helps her bring her things in, taking whatever she'll let him until most of it is put in an acceptable place. He'll look over the contents of what she brought more in-detail later. For now, he has a job to do.
He takes out his COMP, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Aki. He again is at a loss for what to say, because he doesn't think he could talk to Aki over the device as he is now. His voice still doesn't have the decency to work right. So he types something up instead. Simple and vague. Some things have to be seen for yourself, anyway.
All it is is a single sentence:
Not can you. Not will you. But need. He hasn't asked something of Aki in a long time, hasn't needed anything from him, and it feels strange to ask. But that's his fault. Two years of trying to put distance between you and another person will do that. He doesn't regret it, but he feels it.
But Aki will come, wherever the he is, because that's how he's always been.
my heart ;_;
The original text had been an interesting choice of words, but at the same time, Akihiko felt it was very typical of Shinji. Shinji never asked him for much, and when he did, he was rarely this direct, but the use of the word need was more than enough to tell him that whatever was going on, it was important. Beyond important, really. He was of the opinion that Shinji let things that were just plain "important" simmer until there was absolutely no choice but to get someone else involved. His health, for instance, came to mind.
Whatever was going on now, though, was vital enough that there was no time for hesitation. Two short minutes after the message had been received, he was standing outside Shinji's door, knocking.
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Now that it was happening, for real, not a test, not sitting in the corner, she stands close by to the door, as if she can somehow peek behind it. See what he's like before the door is swung open. She could just look through the peephole, but that also makes her afraid that she'll see nothing there. It's a strange mixture of emotions dancing in her heart. She's trained for years at calming herself, at being the green reed which bends in the wind as her dojo Sensei would say. Yet now she just feels like she's six again, images of the fire flashing before her eyes, of the brother who saved her life at the cost of his own.
Behind that door, is a sibling who wished he could have done the same, but had been held back. Would the outcome have been the same? Had her other self died waiting under her bed like she had started to do before Aki broke in? It was...strange to think of what your last thoughts would have been. How different would she have turned out...or him...or Shinji had nothing happened?
Two minutes, and already too many thoughts. Her left hand starts to tremble, and she bites down on her lip, attempting to calm herself down. For while there is some degree of fear of the unknown, of the man standing behind the door, there's also anticipation.
The three of them reunited. It was something she thought could only happen in dreams. He was a Persona user too, and even if he hadn't, he would be now thanks to this place. What did he look like? Did he look the same as he had long ago, as little as she could remember? How had he grown up like? What did he wear?
Questions that could be answered tonight. No...that would be answered tonight. That gives her so much happiness, she almost fears she'll burst or fall over from it. The last thing Miki wants to do is faint like some sort of badly-timed dark comedy. She is stronger than that....deep breaths.
Deep. Breaths.
There was just the problem. As much as she kept trying to raise her hand, she can't make herself open the door.
If this is a dream, she doesn't want to wake up from it.
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He's leaning against the apartment wall nearest to the table when he hears the knock—almost moves to answer the door, but stops himself when he sees Miki approach it. He watches her, carefully. Waits to see if she'll open the door herself, because if she can, then good for her. He'll let her if she feels up to it.
But when it becomes obvious she can't—once he lets a small but significant amount of time pass, just in case all she needs is a minute—he leans forward and clears the space between him and the door. Sees her hand shaking again. She's stronger than she was, but some facets of a person's personality don't fade away so easily, if ever at all. And that's okay. He can open a damn door for her. He'll just hope that, the next time around, she'll be ready to do it herself.
His right hand settles on her shoulder, pulling her back, gesturing for her to move a ways behind him, give him space to let Aki in. "I'll do it." He can understand that she's nervous. Still afraid, probably—and a host of other things. He just wishes she didn't have to be afraid of Aki for even a second. He's no one to be afraid of. Ever.
He keeps his voice deliberately low as he reaches for the door handle, quiet enough so only Miki can hear. "He's just your brother. Remember that."
That has never changed. He's not someone she ever has to be afraid of, or feel second-rate to.
He pulls open the door then, not as composed as he would normally be, but he can't help that. Can't pound his uneven voice into submission, can't smooth back the rawness there, nor remove the red from his eyes. "Hey." He looks at Aki briefly as he steps back to let him inside. Doesn't quite make eye-contact with him yet. "There's someone you need to see."
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"Your message felt pretty urgent. Someone I need to see?"
He stepped inside, gaze searching as he moved past Shinjiro, allowing him room to close the door behind him. He didn't have to look far; there wasn't enough room to hide a person in these apartments, anyway, but the girl in question had been mere steps away from Shinji himself. Akihiko stared for a moment, puzzled. At first glance, she was wholly unfamiliar, but there was something about him that struck her, and while his head had yet to make sense of the situation, he felt a tight knot beginning to form itself in the pit of his stomach as he continued to stare, struggling to place her face as his memories refused to surface.
"Hi," he said simply, everything in his manner cautious, questioning. After a moment, he offered her his hand, though his eyes never left her face for a moment, his eyebrows knit together as memory continued to fight him.
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If Aki is able to look at her in the eyes, Miki certainly isn't. It's not just a question of being afraid...at least not anymore. Even if Shinji had told her those words, it is hard to make it so simple.
He's just your brother. Remember that.
It is more than that. He has always been her hero, her sibling she had wanted to thank for so many years. Even if this Akihiko that stood before her hadn't managed to do so, she knows that he would had done the same if he could have.
What could she even begin to say to him? She stands straight as a board.
"I...H-h....hi...." Her mouth just moves pathetically as she tries to form words. Then her entire body starts to shake as much as her hand, and she realizes how lightheaded she suddenly feels. Determined not to let herself fall down, she closes her mouth and nearly slams into him, uncaring if he's caught on or not.
He's warm.
The final piece of the puzzle to fall into place, and proving to her that she's definitely not dreaming. Dreams can't feel this real. Her hands tighten around him as she somehow shakes even more from trying to stop herself from crying, but she finally gives in and sobs into his arms. It's a loud, almost pitiful cry that she had only done twice before in her life; each time at the death of her brothers. This wasn't an emotional outburst she shows openly, they were reserved for family.
Her family...
"I'm...I'm so sorry!" She somehow manages to say between her choking. At this point she isn't even sure what she is saying anymore, of why she's apologizing. "I'm sorry I kept the both of you waiting!"
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For once.
It just takes a while to unravel the knots that make things more complicated than they need to be.
Aki may be a hero to her, but, in the end, all he had wanted to do that night was be the brother he had always tried so hard to be. You can build up someone all you want throughout the years, create a glorified martyr out of them so that every fault is null and void in the face of your own imagination, but when the day finally draws to a close, they're no more of a god than you are. And if Aki could choose between the two titles, Shinjiro would hazard a confident guess that he'd rather just be her brother than someone elevated above the common man.
He moves around the two of them until he's leaning against the sink, listening to her cry. He shoots Aki a look, smiles a little bit—a small crack in his not-so-stable facade that's becoming less reliable by the second. See? the look says, mildly accusing. This is your own damn fault, you know.
"...Think she cries just about as much as you do." Maybe he's already realized who she is, maybe he hasn't. He'll know soon enough. If he has, then Shinjiro will just be confirming Akihiko's assumptions. If not, he'll just be nudging him along to that eventual horizon. "Must run the family."
;_;
Family.
He looked down at her, eyes wide as the pieces began to fall into place.
"Miki...?"
Oh, god. It had never even occurred to him that they might meet again, even in this place. She had been gone so long, even his subconscious hadn't dared to hope.
"Oh god, Miki?" His voice cracked slightly as he said her name again, threatening tears. The embrace tightened as he held her to him, now desperate to keep her from getting free. This was real. It seemed impossible, and yet so many things that he had deemed impossible had been brought to light since coming here. Why not this?
He closed his eyes as tears began to well up, unwilling to release her just yet. Not now. Maybe not ever.
"It's really you, isn't it?"
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It wasn't every day you met up with both of your dead brothers.
In fact, as she is slowly realizing how very real this all was...she finds herself unsure what to do next. Maybe she can just hold on a little longer...
They had all the time in the world right now.
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Because yeah, he remembers that. He remembers everything, even if a lot of the memories have been eaten away by time, losing some of their luster but none of the meaning his childhood gave it. He remembers Aki's ridiculous ideas of what competitive slide-games entailed—all ridiculous and weird and hard to believe he gave into half of them. He remembers playing at the shrine until time ran out. He remembers the carrots too. They had been disgusting. Starvation had seemed like a better option. Back then, everything had been okay.
But that's edging into sentimentality. And that's something he didn't do often. Those days were long gone, anyway. Though maybe not as far gone as he thought. Because that was her. As if there had been any doubt. Shinjiro wouldn't have called Aki here unless he had been sure. And he was. He was sure then and he was sure now. It took long enough, but she had finally found her way home. Time to say "welcome back" and shit, except that line for people far more sentimental than—
Tch. Shit. His eyes are on fire again.
Dammit.
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His hold on her tightened yet again, if it were possible to hug her any more fiercely than he already had been. He almost felt that if he let go, she would disappear. She felt real, sounded real, and yet at the same time, it was too good to be true.
He had been so skeptical of this place when he'd first arrived. Now, he didn't mind it so much. Not if it meant that he got to see his sister again.
"I'm so sorry," he said finally, his voice hoarse from the effort of holding back more tears. He was still a crybaby, but he was going to fight it a bit longer if he could. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Miki. I've never forgotten it. I was too weak, but not anymore. I'll protect you this time."
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"That's a lie, you know. You've always been strong enough to protect me. I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for what you did." She still hasn't really given thought about moving away either. "But I...I missed you so much!" She shakes again holding him, the last words almost too hard for her to say.
"Besides..." She manages to laugh a little, despite all the tears. "...that should be my line. I want to protect you. I want to protect the both of you."
How like both of them to end up in the same conclusion and situation based on the fate of the other.
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Except they all know better.
"Tch." He pushes back the knot in his throat. "See?"
It's all he says, throat tight. It's all he needs to say, because that's all they need to do. Just use their eyes and look at what's in front of them: two people that are, in the end, not that different from each other. And certainly no one to be afraid of.
He certainly knows what he sees. It doesn't quite line up with what he imagined, but the reality in front of him isn't all that surprising. He sees a girl who grew up into someone to be proud of, and had long ago emerged out of her older brother's shadow. He also sees a friend who's never been weak—all he needed deep down was a split-second of opportunity. If given that, he could accomplish whatever he damn well put his mind to. It was never a question about being strong, it was merely a difference in circumstances. A few seconds of luck.
And luck was about chance more than it ever was about skill.
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He had to smile, even as he continued to fight against his own tears. They were so alike. Her mindset was one he could appreciate from experience, and somehow he wasn't surprised that they had both grown up in their respective worlds wanting to protect the other.
He glanced at Shinji, briefly, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. It wasn't a very discreet attempt.
"Thank you," was all he said for the time being. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate or not -- of course Shinji would have called him to see Miki -- and yet it was the only thing that felt right.
He exhaled slowly as he turned back to his sister, his eyes now rimmed with red. Appearances be damned.
"We have a lot of catching up to do."
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We have a lot of catching up to do.
"Yeah. We do." There was so much she had wanted to tell him and learn about him over the years she imagines an entire line of thoughts just waiting for their turn. "I'm not even sure where to start...maybe we should all sit down." These aren't the biggest apartments, but right now, that very moment, it is probably the most at home that Miki has ever felt in her life. She looks over to Shinjiro again.
"Thank you," she repeats much like Akihiko before her. She knows that he's not a fan of compliments in general, but it didn't matter right now. He'd have to take his thank yous and accept them.
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But instead of keeping to his place against the wall, he does move to sit down somewhere. "She just hit me with her geta, that's it."
As though it was her fault for everything, and he had nothing to do with it—which he didn't, so thanking him was useless and asinine besides. If she was in the city, it was only a matter of time before something alerted them to each other. Tonight, it was an account of a shoe. He was going to have a nice bruise to show for it in the morning, but that was nothing knew. Aki had seen to that a long time ago.
He did really needed to stop meeting girls that way. It was slowly killing his health.
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Maybe some people would have deemed small-talk trivial at this point, but to him, it was a welcome reprieve from the shock he'd received upon realizing exactly who she was. They had a lot to talk about, but perhaps the best way to handle that would be to ease into it.
"Was he skulking around and looking suspicious? He does that, sometimes."