Author's Note:

I was reluctant to start this because... Well, I mean, as excited as I am to finish it, it's something that also makes me sad. I mean, it's taken me like two years to finally get here, and I've got such wonderful supporters (aka you guys), even when I took obnoxious year-long absences. I don't think I'm as attached to this pairing now as I was when I started this, but I'm constantly finding inspiration for this story. Thank you all so much for your support and kind reviews; it mean so, so much to me. I may start another drabble set of some sort, but for now it's farewell to Minako and Akihiko. :) (I mean sad face, too, but...)

This is not a super happy ending, because... Well, it's P3, lesbehonest.

Twenty-Five Hours

a Persona 3/Portable (© ATLUS) fanfiction

The Final Hour

Opening Song: "Her Morning Elegance" - Oren Lavie

soon she's down the stairs
her morning elegance she wears
the sound of water makes her dream
awoken by a cloud of steam
she pours a daydream in a cup
a spoon of sugar sweetens up
and she fights for her life
as she puts on her coat
and she fights for her life on the train

On his final day in the dorm, after the Abyss of Time disappears and Erebus is destroyed (for now), Akihiko does what he's been avoiding for nearly a month: he goes into Minako's room. It's cold and vacant; even if she didn't have very much materialistically, her presence brought warmth. The sheets are clean and folded neatly at the edge of the bed; she liked to keep them askew, claimed that making her bed was "pointless and ridiculous" because it'd get messed up at night anyway. The curtains are closed; Minako always liked to keep them open, to take in the sun and admire the moon. There's nothing on her desk; Akihiko had never seen a more cluttered desk than Minako's, with all the books, papers, and half-read manga. The walls are blank and white; Minako kept a calendar to write down people's birthdays and plans, and she pinned up pictures of all her friends. It isn't Minako's room anymore.

His feet take him over to the corner of the room, where a cardboard box is sitting. Akihiko picks it up, places it on the desk, and opens it. Inside is a strange collection: a cell phone strap, a pig key holder, a silver key, a leather watch, a cheap lighter, persimmon fruit, a leather pouch, a motorcycle key, a dirty collar, a charred screw, red headphones, a bead ring, a reserve tag, a letter, a worn notebook, a memory stick, a tennis guide, a ring with a strange glow, and a rabbit doll. None of these things belong together, but in this box, altogether, they represent a part of Minako. A part, he thinks, that she reluctantly left behind.

Akihiko picks up the rabbit doll, looks into its black eyes and admires the faux auburn hair. "It looks like you," he'd said to her.

He digs around through the box, almost feels invasive when his gloved fingers touch the other items, and finds another familiar item. He flips open the music box with his thumb and a soft, almost haunting melody plays. He promised he'd get her a new piece of jewelry every Christmas to put in the box. He promised he'd keep her warm. He promised he'd never forget her. He promised they would never be apart.

But where is Minako now? Dead, he thinks. Dead and cold, after he'd forgotten about SEES and the Shadows and the very thing that brought them together. He and Minako would never be together again; he'd broken all of his promises to her.

The sob in his mouth is painful and searing as he slams his fists against the desk. The music box shuts, its song ending abruptly and shrilly.

Minako shouldn't have died — she shouldn't have been the only one to die. Mitsuru, Yukari, Junpei, Ken, Koromaru, Aigis, Fuuka, Akihiko, even Shinjiro — all of them are back, alive. All of them fought Nyx, all of them faced Death, all of them should have died that night on January 31st, so why did it have to be just her? Why her?

Metis's answer should be enough, but for Akihiko it isn't. Minako had to die to protect mankind, to become the Great Seal, to stop Nyx from ever returning. It makes sense rationally, but nothing about Shadows or Nyx or SEES or anything is rational. A group of high schoolers fighting in the Tower of Demise against monsters isn't rational. One teenage girl dying for the sake of humanity and sacrificing herself to protect the world is not rational. It's not rational and it's not fair.

Akihiko draws away from the desk, from the belongings most precious to Minako. His body slumps down on the bed, which creaks under his weight. "I should have known," he thinks as he buries his face in his hands. "I should have seen it."

In that final month, she could barely keep her eyes open. Her body weighed down with fatigue, her legs kept buckling underneath her, her hands would shake whenever she had to hold anything, and her shoulders, usually pulled back with confidence, were weak. Minako was tired, but she smiled anyway, and that smile deceived all of them into believing that she was alright. It deceived them into believing that they were just normal teenagers, that they hadn't been fighting for their lives for the past year, that everything was okay. Nevermind the fact that Nyx had made her bleed and she was an inch away from death and barely got away. (And for what — to live a month where everyone but her had forgotten?)

She was thinking of others, up until the very end. Minako had always been selfless; she never put herself first. Even if that was why he loved her so much, even if it was that selflessness that got through to him and moved him and inspired him, part of him hated her for it. Maybe if she had been selfish, she wouldn't be dead. Maybe if she had been selfish, she would still be here with him, now.

But, then, would she have been Minako at all? Patient Minako who waited for him when he was unsure, who reached out to him, who sought him out, who loved him unconditionally and unlike anyone else?

She bore the weight of the world until her death, and now her soul fights back the monster that threatens to eat up the world. She's still selfless in death. It'll never be over for her, he realizes, and his own shoulders sag at the thought. Akihiko wants to believe that she's finally found peace, that perhaps she's reunited with her parents, that she's made lots of friends, that she's met Miki and they've shared stories about him — but he knows this can't be. She's trapped; peace did not greet Minako in death. Instead a monster born from the depths of mankind claws at her, and her strength fends it off.

Seeing people happy made Minako happy. She saved the world through her self-sacrifice, so maybe she is happy, in the end.

Either way, Akihiko thinks it's wrong.

He sits there for a long time; time ticks on and the world continues to spin, but Akihiko is stuck in this moment, in this place. Junpei is the one who knocks on the door and checks up on him to let him know that the dorm is finally closing down. Though a part of him will always be jealous of what Minako and Junpei had (that strong friendship and connection and understanding that can only exist between two people), he's glad that it's Junpei. Junpei knows what it's like to lose a lover.

"They're kickin' us out," Junpei says, trying to grin. Akihiko notices that he doesn't come inside, that his feet are just barely on the other side of the door frame. Junpei had been the one to pack up all her things, Akihiko remembers. He was in here for hours, and when he came out his eyes were red and his knuckles were white. "C'mon, Senpai." His eyes dart to the cardboard box on the desk and linger, but only for a moment. Too many memories he's not ready to explore yet.

Somehow, he gets to his feet. He heads for the door, then stops, looking back on her old things. He wants to leave them behind (this dorm was her home, she'd told him once before), but they'll probably be moved anyway, so he takes the box and leaves with Junpei. The latter closes the door behind him, and both struggle to not look back.

Sometimes, when Akihiko closes his eyes, he can see Minako's face: bright-eyed, white smile, flushed cheeks. He remembers all of her expressions, her movements and body language, her reactions and habits. Sometimes he can still feel her warmth and hear her laughter, feel her lips and body against his. Minako is still alive in his memories and dreams.

And then he opens his eyes, and she's gone. His bed is cold, his mind reels, and his body feels heavy.

Akihiko doesn't visit Minako's grave. There's no one waiting for him but a corpse. He gave the box of her things to Mitsuru, so that they would be buried with Minako. Though they won't help her, maybe they'll ease her friends with the fact that a piece of them will always be with her. It's a sick kind of symbolism but he doesn't judge, as the rabbit doll was in the box that went into the ground.

He travels the world to get stronger, to study more forms of martial arts and increase his knowledge. (Maybe next time he'll be able to protect the one he loves, rather than the other way around.) He still talks to everyone; they have little get-togethers on Tatsumi Port Island every now and then, phone each other, e-mail each other and keep in contact through social networking. The bond isn't quite as strong as it used to be, though. Minako kept them together as their leader and friend — she was SEES's core. On top of that, it always feels wrong when all of them are together and there's a vacant seat. It's not the same.

Mitsuru calls him up, asks him where he is now, gets professional when it comes to the Shadow Operatives ("How are things on your end?" "The report today..." "We must act swiftly."), sometimes mentions Shinji. She and Minako became close friends, into the final month of their battle against the Shadows. She misses the freedom and the joy she had with the younger girl, and he knows she doesn't use her motorcycle anymore (after all, the keys are ten feet under). Over the phone, she's put together, stern, formal. She has to be strong, as the leader of the Kirijo Group. The fight isn't over, and work will never end for a Kirijo.

But her voice softens, and she asks the same question at the end, every time: "How are you doing, Akihiko?"

"Fine." He doesn't tell her about his dreams of Minako's warmth and nightmares of her battles against Erebus.

She makes a small sound, disbelieving and a little hurt that he has yet to confide in her. Perhaps, at some point, she had loved him. And, perhaps, at some point, he had loved her. But he has nothing to give her now, not while he mourns over a girl who will never return to him, and Mitsuru's loyalty would never allow her to try. "Take care of yourself," she says. She promises to check up on him, then hangs up.

Shinjiro checks up on him a lot, makes sure that he's still alive and "not being a reckless idiot." It pisses Akihiko off that Shinjiro is still treating him like a kid (not that his warnings are completely unwarranted), but he's grateful that he's even alive to call him. Shinjiro doesn't say, but Akihiko knows that he's alive because of Minako. That bullet should have killed him, but the watch in his pocket took the brunt of it. She found a way to exchange time for his life.

He talks to Fuuka, Ken, Aigis, Junpei, even goes to Yukari's wedding a couple years later. Mitsuru and Fuuka are her maids of honor, but he has a feeling she wishes Minako were here to fill the roll. When she comes up to him at the reception (dressed in white and beautiful; Minako would look breathtaking in a wedding dress), she holds his hands and gives them a soft squeeze. He understands and she tries to empathize, but neither say anything.

No one ever does. Minako is taboo. None of them will ever stop hurting because none of them will ever forget. She will always be present in their lives; it's both a blessing and a curse.

There will always be a vacant chair.

It's the same dream he usually has. They're both sitting on the rooftop, on her final day, and the others' voices and footsteps aren't far away. This is their final moment together as Akihiko and Minako.

But this time he's in her arms, his head in her lap. He blinks up at her in confusion (he's had this dream too many times, recalls this memory too vividly, knows every detail — this isn't normal), while she brushes his hair away from his forehead. "You look tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?" she asks.. There's quiet laughter behind her words, like she knows this is a dream and a memory. "Why don't you close your eyes for a minute?"

He shakes his head, though he savors the feel of her skin against his. The warmth feels so real. "Minako..."

"We'll never be apart, right?" His own words cause his blood to freeze. "So don't worry. Stop losing sleep over it. Stop holding yourself back. I'm right here."

He wants to believe it's true. "You're gonna leave me."

She bites down on her lip guiltily. "I'm sorry," she says with sincerity. "I love you, Aki."

The butterflies flutter in his stomach as wildly as they did the day he confessed to her. He takes the hand that's caressing his face and squeezes it, afraid to let go. "Stay with me," he pleads. "Stay here, with all of us."

Her expression is tentative and pained. He knows what he's asking of her, but he doesn't care. "I don't wanna leave," she admits.

"Then don't."

But it's not that simple. Nothing is that simple anymore. "I don't regret anything," she whispers. "It hurts because I have all of you guys, because I love you all so much, because I have to leave you all behind. Maybe it would've been easier if I just shut myself up in my room all year." Minako laughs, but it's hollow, unlike her usual sunshine and cheer. "But I don't regret it. To have loved and lost, right?"

Anger wells up inside of him at her passiveness. Does she understand that no one wants her to die? That all of them will always have this hollow space in them because she's gone? That none of them will ever fully recover?

He doesn't have to say anything; she can read it in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she repeats.

"Why does it have to be you?"

"No matter what I say, the answer won't satisfy you," she says, and it's true. No reason will ever be good enough to explain why she has to die — not to him. "Life isn't about the answers, though. That's what I found out. It's about the journey. I made friends and had great food and learned a lot and fell in love. My journey's over, Aki, but yours isn't. Don't lose sight of your journey while you're looking for answers."

She bends down, presses a soft kiss against his lips—

— and his eyes open.