That wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all. Minato is surprised to the point of being taken aback, his eyes widening. He always forgets, somehow, that for all their similarities Ken is nothing much like him. He feels things with the keenness of a blade, slicing through him no matter how he hides it, and that's always been the real problem. Minato doesn't turn away; he listens and watches and he wonders if, maybe, it isn't so bad to confront Ken with what the consequences would be if he killed himself.
Minato wouldn't blame himself exactly, but there would be a profound, soul-altering regret chasing him through all of his days, to say nothing of what would happen to Shinjiro, who surely would feel responsible. He'll need to speak to him, too, he realizes abruptly; and rather than feeling exhausted by the weight of all his friends to care for, it rejuvenates him. Minato will do this because there is no one else who can fulfill this role, who can take on being the central support, the most necessary one. They need him as much as he needs them and there is nothing like that singing relief.
He rises to his feet and his hands come out, bracketing Ken, one resting peacefully on each arm up by his shoulders. An anchor.
"Then why?" he says softly, an intensity entering his tone that is vanishingly rare for Minato. He wants to comfort him and he will but that too human part of Minato that he's never managed to quash (to kill, to slip into the cold dark until it froze) has warmed and emerged from his soul, that part of him demands an answer. He needs to understand, because he'd thought he'd understood but he can't, this part, he has always been the type to fade away rather than crash and he needs to know.
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Minato wouldn't blame himself exactly, but there would be a profound, soul-altering regret chasing him through all of his days, to say nothing of what would happen to Shinjiro, who surely would feel responsible. He'll need to speak to him, too, he realizes abruptly; and rather than feeling exhausted by the weight of all his friends to care for, it rejuvenates him. Minato will do this because there is no one else who can fulfill this role, who can take on being the central support, the most necessary one. They need him as much as he needs them and there is nothing like that singing relief.
He rises to his feet and his hands come out, bracketing Ken, one resting peacefully on each arm up by his shoulders. An anchor.
"Then why?" he says softly, an intensity entering his tone that is vanishingly rare for Minato. He wants to comfort him and he will but that too human part of Minato that he's never managed to quash (to kill, to slip into the cold dark until it froze) has warmed and emerged from his soul, that part of him demands an answer. He needs to understand, because he'd thought he'd understood but he can't, this part, he has always been the type to fade away rather than crash and he needs to know.