#Spoilers -> Persona 3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

letsriddlemethislucifer · 1 year ago

Note

"Yo. I'm back." A certain Emperor walked into Shinji's hospital room where he was hooked up to a lot of machines meant to keep him alive. He was in a coma. The doctors said that his chances of waking up are slim. Akihiko forced a smile on his face as he sat down and looked at his friend.

"How long are you going to lie down? You're slacking off. Come on... get up." The longer he stared at him, the more he choked up. "Please... I won't fight for power anymore. I've learned my lesson. Just... please... wake up!" [It's today :3c Also, be sure to tag it as p3 spoilers just to be safe!]

--- The air was cold and uninviting. Though he had come time and time again to this place, there was no getting used to it. The room smelled of it's usual cleanliness, bitter and uncomfortably sterile. Aside from the constant noise form the monitors and air filters, it was uneasily quiet. Always uneasily quiet.

The curtains were drawn to a close as the night was drawn further by the hour, the the only light within the room came from a small lamp besides the bed, where the visitor's chair was.

The very air would feel irritated with each word that was spoken, before returning to that same routine of silence.

It was heavy.

It felt too heavy, sometimes.

Enough to make one choke.

Pleas continued to go unanswered. Prolonged bouts of anger and bargaining, too, lost their spark with time. But the ashes would always linger. Always. Only to spark right back up for the next visit.

An ongoing cycle.

A never ending nightmare.

Nothing felt like it was ever enough. Helplessness was no better a fitting name for such a place; stuck in that same time as the very moment that a bullet rang out within the dark hour.

Stuck... to the very minute detail. The overwhelming smell of iron, the endless pool of red staining a place that had once again seen another tragedy.

A feeling of a strong and steady grip loosening within Akihiko's own before it fell away. Without another complaint. Without that usual sharp gleam in those familiar eyes since they were young.

Eyes like unbending steel, suddenly dulling out to rust. Did they still look like that, even now? Would they? Questions remaining in limbo at the sheer fear of finding the worst conclusion.

Those hands, once rough and sturdy with experience, now dwindled down frail and cold. It was hard not to reminisce the sound of those hands chopping away at freshly washed greens, stirring in a hardy egg, or gently slicing down finely done meat for a hardy meal.

Even harder was it to erase the sounds of those all too familiar boots clicking in a rush to push others away from harm.

....

A voice tired and hoarse, scolding others for how they lacked taking care of their well beings, or awkwardly reminding them to eat their fill without shame.

...

Though the tubes helped him breath, and the monitors showed a somewhat stable rate; nothing described of the former could be seen now.

Just a husk.

Nothing but an empty personality.

No way to reassure him that everything would be okay.

The body that lay within those heavy sheets could not give him the solace he so desperately needed. The every one in the sees so desperately wanted.

There was no aspirations from him.

No joy or anger nor complaints.

Not even dreams.

Not for him.

Not for the one unable to awaken from a silenced state.

For those who still walked freely, however... there was hope.