[But would Minato rather have a more technically proficient stranger to accompany him, or a close friend he wasn't sure he'd ever see again? No contest. It's not like he cares if he gets into college anyway. Minato could work at the clothing store indefinitely as long as he got to keep seeing his friends.]
[The shock is momentary and Ken recovers quickly. Minato, considering university. Or, considering the fact that he was told to apply to university, as was typical Minato fashion. But isn't this exactly what they hoped for? No matter what, tomorrow comes. As long as there's a tomorrow, and they reach for it...]
No! [he blurts out before he's even finished the thought.] No, I want to do it! I'll be happy to.
[What was all this commotion about in his response?? Minato is clueless. He only knows he's disgruntled by being forced to make decisions about his future and is attempting to go the path of least resistance, as per usual.]
Okay. I appreciate it. ... It's easier to play for friends than strangers. Does that make sense?
[Mostly because that's who he's playing for regardless.]
I think I get it. It feels more meaningful, I think, because you care more about them.
[Ken has his doubts that the choices Minato made were made for the sake of the actual world. Salvation to an indefinite number of people, for an indefinite future. Minato Arisato had been compassionate for those in his life, not philanthropic.]
[It could be interpreted as altruistic of him, but Minato's altruism is contingent on his understanding of those around him. It's only by extrapolating that understanding onto the rest of the world that he'd felt so motivated, like he was making the right choice to save everyone and not just his friends.
His willingness to do so draws directly from his relationships with the people he knows.]
If I go home now and Kaneda-san catches me, I'll probably get beat up for being absent so long before I can get a word in.
[He thinks. He's not so sure. Kaneda was never not gentle with him, and he's only saying so because he saw the dates. The whole "ten days" thing hasn't sunk in for him yet.]
I'll go to you. It'll only be about twenty minutes.
[But he's only teasing. Minato knows as well as Ken that Kaneda wouldn't actually hurt him. Not that Minato's spoken to Kaneda all that much, but he trusts his instinctual judgement of people. It's nice, to be able to tease Ken; he can't resist doing it. It slips out without conscious thought.
Is it so easy to slide back into this pattern, like he'd never been gone? Like Minato had never died? ... Is there a reason it should be harder?
He'll do what he does best: not question it.]
Alright. I'll wait.
[And if Minato is surprised by the force with which his throat squeezes shut, preventing speech, when he finally opens the door on Ken, then at least he has his habitual reticence to explain it as he wordlessly opens his arms.
There's a lot of things he's learned in the past few months. That this is the time for a hug is one of them.]
[Ken's consciously putting in effort to make this "transition" as easy as possible. That is to say, act as if there's no transition at all. It's been ten days, but it's only been ten days. It's not the first time Ken disappeared and it's not the first time Ken's returned. And this time, he's in a much better state. What's there to worry about? Ken won't let there be.
He's still amazed at how well he controls his expression when Minato opens the door. He knew and this was expected, but seeing Minato standing in front of him, silent but smiling and alive was just not something he could've truly prepared for.
But Minato provides him an escape -- as always -- with those open arms and he actually doesn't hesitate to throw himself into them. He doesn't hold back; maybe he'll knock him over, maybe they'll stumble, but that doesn't matter. It's just his arms around him and his face pressed against his front. He recognizes the smell of his friend's detergent and the cats he lives with and the warmth of his living body is overwhelming.
The last time he saw Minato, he was dressed in white and his hands were cold. This is much, much better.]
[He stumbles back just one step before bracing himself, too used to summoning not to handle the recoil. Minato wraps his arms around Ken (his friend? his teammate? ... his ward? Why does he need a word, anyway?) and closes his eyes, still silent.
It's not that Minato was truly devastated by Ken being gone for ten days. He's used to that, to losing people, although he's not as used to it as he is to not having anyone in the first place. But it's not so different a thing to return to, and he had other people. He'd known Ken was alive and would continue being alive, somewhere if not here in front of him. No, Minato had known he would be fine, maybe not immediately but eventually; he'd accept Ken's absence and move forward, embracing what he did have as best as he was able.
But this moment... loss and return...
It feels like the counterpoint to the moment of his death, when he'd held up his finger and realized he would never have that warmth for himself again. And he was okay with that, if it meant that they didn't have to bear that, too.
Yet here he is-- with what he'd been expecting to be deprived of forever returned to him. It's representative of so much more. All the potential that being here represents, that not just Ken might come back to him but everyone else, too, Yukari and Junpei and Mitsuru and maybe even his social links that weren't SEES. Minato might not have to have lost them, any of them, at all, not if he stays here long enough.
It's such a wild hope. He doesn't want to credit it.
Lightly squeezing Ken to him, uncaring of the sight they make from the street as they stand there in the doorway, Minato feels the first real breath of that hope whisper through him, tentative and young.]
[He realizes this is risky. The Ken Amada of November would never have shown this kind of affection. He could be giving himself away! But he's not so worried; he may be from November in his lies, but he isn't the same Ken. He's the Ken who has the eight months he spent in Nonah, and this Ken's relationship with Minato was different. It was warmer, closer, nurtured in the relative peace they had from a world without the Dark Hour.
Besides, even if that weren't case, he wouldn't have passed this up. He closes his eyes too as they hold each other, wondering if he just listened hard enough he could hear the beat of his leader's -- such a precious, precious friend -- heart and catch the sound of his breath. The warmth of his body seeps through the thick winter uniform he's wearing, and Ken fights back the tears that sting his eyes. Even if he knew intuitively that they could be with each other in this world, the knowledge of Minao's death that followed him from Iwatodai makes his presence here all the more precious.
He'd accepted his death. Understood his sacrifice and vowed to carry on, treasure the gift of life he'd given. But aah, he missed him so much. He wanted to see him so, so much, and he never wants to lose him again. His fingers curl around the fabric of Minato's shirt and he refuses to let go, letting this moment sink in. At their feet, Koromaru quietly presses his body against their ankles, fluffy tail swishing gently in a show of his joy, too.]
Edited (i couldn't stand not having the right icon for this) 2015-10-27 09:12 (UTC)
I don't have exactly the right icon for this either... :(
[Minato doesn't understand people well enough to identify this as uncharacteristic for Ken. He leans heavily on his natural tolerance and growing empathy to get through his social links, and now his more conventional relationships; it's sheer listening skill that makes him effective as a friend-slash-guide. Acting as a mirror is far different than making predictions.
He does realize it as slightly off. Ken is not normally this demonstrative. But he attributes it to their growing relationship, and how different it is here than at home. He can almost distantly envision that if he, at Ken's age, had someone older in a caretaking position that he was attached to, he'd be overwhelmed with relief to see them again.
Almost like he'd been when he'd first seen Ken here, all those months ago.
He doesn't rush Ken to detach. It seems unfathomable. But he also doesn't know exactly what to say, either.] ... You're okay? [he murmurs somewhere to the top of Ken's head.]
[As he hid himself in Minato's arms and closed his eyes, it had felt like time had stopped. The roar of the traffic in the distance, the city beyond these houses, the chirp of birds, the scuttle of squirrels, and the rustling of the autumn breeze through the trees all faded away, muffled as if blocked out by a pair of headphones. But Minato's voice rings out loud and clear despite not being spoken so loudly at all, and with it, all the sounds return as well.
And Ken lets out a long, quiet breath, the tension in his shoulders finally dissipating, his grip on the other's shirt not as tight anymore. He doesn't pull away, though.]
... Yes, [he says in return.] I'm just fine, Minato-san. Just let me stay like this a little longer.
[But he's still reluctant to detach, even minutes later. When he finally does he still keeps his hands lingering at Minato's sides as if they might get torn apart if he pulls away completely. But as he looks up at him, there's no real visible changes to him -- his hair is still long and untamable, he's not any taller or shorter than before, and when it came to any injuries he may have sustained during his trip back... Kala-Nemi's superior healing had taken care of it all.]
[He's paralyzed to move, to refuse Ken this extremely simple gift of his presence. It's such an easy thing to do for him, Minato feels no impulse to regain his space. He's done so much more for Ken, for all of them. Something like this is easy... isn't it? Even if it's making his chest tighter and tighter, squeezing with some emotion he can't identify.
For Ken, he waits there silently nonetheless, wrestling down that unwelcome, unfamiliar feeling.]
... I know you'll be safe no matter what, [Minato says quietly, since he knows what he thinks is Ken's future back home, and he can't exactly die here,] but having you come back, and remembering everything... I'm happy.
[He doesn't look happy. Just quiet. But surely that's at least one piece of what's straining inside him.]
[As always, none of Minato's emotions show on his face. I'm happy, he says, with an expression that's almost starting to be a frown. But Ken knows his sincerity so he nods to the statement, softening his own expression into a smile for the both of them. He can do that. Neither of them were terribly demonstrative, but he can do this easier.]
I am, too, [he agrees.] I'm glad I'm back, and I'm glad I'm still myself. There are still lots of things I want to do.
... I'm glad to be back, so I can still be with you as me, Minato-san.
You're always you, [Minato says faintly, exhaling a quiet breath.] Even if you didn't remember, I wouldn't mind. I'd do every step of that journey with you again if I had to.
[Sometimes, Minato is frail and human and doubting himself and all of his choices. He's ambivalent, or filled with trepidation, or just plain afraid. He can be selfish and miserly with his feelings, not to mention cold and distant.
And sometimes, Minato is every inch the person who had stalwartly faced the Dark Hour night after night, who'd watched lives torn apart or outright be killed because of it, and pushed forward to become the Great Seal without a spec of hesitation. There's specific times where his frailties fade away, and his core of strength-- that dark, black band that let him survive all those years after his parents without removing his capacity to change for the better-- shines through.]
... But. [Now he finally smiles slightly.] It is easier this way. I don't have to explain that you shouldn't eat the convenience store food, for example.
[Those aren't empty reassurances from Minato, and Ken knows it, so he lets them fill him up with warmth and smiles, agreeing silently. If Minato disappeared and returned without his memories, no matter what time he may have come from, Ken knows he wouldn't let that discourage him either. Minato-san was Minato-san no matter what. But they don't have to worry about that now.]
I would've figured it out, but you're right. It's easier this way. ... Can I sit with you for a bit?
[What he's most glad about is not the convenience of having memories, or the ease that comes with not having to explain things over and over. It's this; all shared memories forge bonds, and he's so grateful he didn't have to let go of this one.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
/4
[Don't you want someone better at the piano Minato-san???]
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[But would Minato rather have a more technically proficient stranger to accompany him, or a close friend he wasn't sure he'd ever see again? No contest. It's not like he cares if he gets into college anyway. Minato could work at the clothing store indefinitely as long as he got to keep seeing his friends.]
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No! [he blurts out before he's even finished the thought.] No, I want to do it! I'll be happy to.
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Okay. I appreciate it. ... It's easier to play for friends than strangers. Does that make sense?
[Mostly because that's who he's playing for regardless.]
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[Ken has his doubts that the choices Minato made were made for the sake of the actual world. Salvation to an indefinite number of people, for an indefinite future. Minato Arisato had been compassionate for those in his life, not philanthropic.]
... Where are you, right now?
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His willingness to do so draws directly from his relationships with the people he knows.]
... I'm at home. Should I come over?
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[He thinks. He's not so sure. Kaneda was never not gentle with him, and he's only saying so because he saw the dates. The whole "ten days" thing hasn't sunk in for him yet.]
I'll go to you. It'll only be about twenty minutes.
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[But he's only teasing. Minato knows as well as Ken that Kaneda wouldn't actually hurt him. Not that Minato's spoken to Kaneda all that much, but he trusts his instinctual judgement of people. It's nice, to be able to tease Ken; he can't resist doing it. It slips out without conscious thought.
Is it so easy to slide back into this pattern, like he'd never been gone? Like Minato had never died? ... Is there a reason it should be harder?
He'll do what he does best: not question it.]
Alright. I'll wait.
[And if Minato is surprised by the force with which his throat squeezes shut, preventing speech, when he finally opens the door on Ken, then at least he has his habitual reticence to explain it as he wordlessly opens his arms.
There's a lot of things he's learned in the past few months. That this is the time for a hug is one of them.]
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He's still amazed at how well he controls his expression when Minato opens the door. He knew and this was expected, but seeing Minato standing in front of him, silent but smiling and alive was just not something he could've truly prepared for.
But Minato provides him an escape -- as always -- with those open arms and he actually doesn't hesitate to throw himself into them. He doesn't hold back; maybe he'll knock him over, maybe they'll stumble, but that doesn't matter. It's just his arms around him and his face pressed against his front. He recognizes the smell of his friend's detergent and the cats he lives with and the warmth of his living body is overwhelming.
The last time he saw Minato, he was dressed in white and his hands were cold. This is much, much better.]
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It's not that Minato was truly devastated by Ken being gone for ten days. He's used to that, to losing people, although he's not as used to it as he is to not having anyone in the first place. But it's not so different a thing to return to, and he had other people. He'd known Ken was alive and would continue being alive, somewhere if not here in front of him. No, Minato had known he would be fine, maybe not immediately but eventually; he'd accept Ken's absence and move forward, embracing what he did have as best as he was able.
But this moment... loss and return...
It feels like the counterpoint to the moment of his death, when he'd held up his finger and realized he would never have that warmth for himself again. And he was okay with that, if it meant that they didn't have to bear that, too.
Yet here he is-- with what he'd been expecting to be deprived of forever returned to him. It's representative of so much more. All the potential that being here represents, that not just Ken might come back to him but everyone else, too, Yukari and Junpei and Mitsuru and maybe even his social links that weren't SEES. Minato might not have to have lost them, any of them, at all, not if he stays here long enough.
It's such a wild hope. He doesn't want to credit it.
Lightly squeezing Ken to him, uncaring of the sight they make from the street as they stand there in the doorway, Minato feels the first real breath of that hope whisper through him, tentative and young.]
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Besides, even if that weren't case, he wouldn't have passed this up. He closes his eyes too as they hold each other, wondering if he just listened hard enough he could hear the beat of his leader's -- such a precious, precious friend -- heart and catch the sound of his breath. The warmth of his body seeps through the thick winter uniform he's wearing, and Ken fights back the tears that sting his eyes. Even if he knew intuitively that they could be with each other in this world, the knowledge of Minao's death that followed him from Iwatodai makes his presence here all the more precious.
He'd accepted his death. Understood his sacrifice and vowed to carry on, treasure the gift of life he'd given. But aah, he missed him so much. He wanted to see him so, so much, and he never wants to lose him again. His fingers curl around the fabric of Minato's shirt and he refuses to let go, letting this moment sink in. At their feet, Koromaru quietly presses his body against their ankles, fluffy tail swishing gently in a show of his joy, too.]
I don't have exactly the right icon for this either... :(
He does realize it as slightly off. Ken is not normally this demonstrative. But he attributes it to their growing relationship, and how different it is here than at home. He can almost distantly envision that if he, at Ken's age, had someone older in a caretaking position that he was attached to, he'd be overwhelmed with relief to see them again.
Almost like he'd been when he'd first seen Ken here, all those months ago.
He doesn't rush Ken to detach. It seems unfathomable. But he also doesn't know exactly what to say, either.] ... You're okay? [he murmurs somewhere to the top of Ken's head.]
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And Ken lets out a long, quiet breath, the tension in his shoulders finally dissipating, his grip on the other's shirt not as tight anymore. He doesn't pull away, though.]
... Yes, [he says in return.] I'm just fine, Minato-san. Just let me stay like this a little longer.
[But he's still reluctant to detach, even minutes later. When he finally does he still keeps his hands lingering at Minato's sides as if they might get torn apart if he pulls away completely. But as he looks up at him, there's no real visible changes to him -- his hair is still long and untamable, he's not any taller or shorter than before, and when it came to any injuries he may have sustained during his trip back... Kala-Nemi's superior healing had taken care of it all.]
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For Ken, he waits there silently nonetheless, wrestling down that unwelcome, unfamiliar feeling.]
... I know you'll be safe no matter what, [Minato says quietly, since he knows what he thinks is Ken's future back home, and he can't exactly die here,] but having you come back, and remembering everything... I'm happy.
[He doesn't look happy. Just quiet. But surely that's at least one piece of what's straining inside him.]
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I am, too, [he agrees.] I'm glad I'm back, and I'm glad I'm still myself. There are still lots of things I want to do.
... I'm glad to be back, so I can still be with you as me, Minato-san.
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[Sometimes, Minato is frail and human and doubting himself and all of his choices. He's ambivalent, or filled with trepidation, or just plain afraid. He can be selfish and miserly with his feelings, not to mention cold and distant.
And sometimes, Minato is every inch the person who had stalwartly faced the Dark Hour night after night, who'd watched lives torn apart or outright be killed because of it, and pushed forward to become the Great Seal without a spec of hesitation. There's specific times where his frailties fade away, and his core of strength-- that dark, black band that let him survive all those years after his parents without removing his capacity to change for the better-- shines through.]
... But. [Now he finally smiles slightly.] It is easier this way. I don't have to explain that you shouldn't eat the convenience store food, for example.
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I would've figured it out, but you're right. It's easier this way. ... Can I sit with you for a bit?
[What he's most glad about is not the convenience of having memories, or the ease that comes with not having to explain things over and over. It's this; all shared memories forge bonds, and he's so grateful he didn't have to let go of this one.]