Here is the bonus illustration of my redesigned/headcanon Arata and Souma together!!
I really like Arasouma. I have actually had a fixation on them for a few months now, but I haven’t drawn them until recently. This is also the first time I’ve ever made art for a ship. 🥳
My next post will probably not be artwork but actually a three part character analysis of Arata, Souma, and their relationship. Or I might post something else before then. So stay in tuned for that if anyone is interested. The analysis should come in by at least the end of this month.
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A/n: Yoka Tono is @yumizurueleonora and my name for Arata's mom, we've written her a ton of times.
Hereditary
Oh, Arata thinks, I’m actually going to die.
He’s thought that before, when Souma had to leave to go the hospital first and foremost, but now he actually feels it.
Like something has a vice grip on his heart and the rest of him is wasting away. It hurts. It hurts so much.
Taiga was right, he was just avoiding the pain. This pain. And now that he knows he can't surpass RAD WEEKEND, it's going to kill him.
-
When Akito hears a knock at his door, he assumes it’s Ena and after the thrashing they just got from Taiga he doesn’t want to deal with her.
The knocking doesn’t go away after ignoring it, so finally Akito rolls off his bed.
“Go away shithead, I don’t–” the insult dies in his mouth when Akito sees his dad looking at him grimly.
“Akito, I need to talk to you,” Shinei says and hoo boy whatever Akito thought Ena was going to bug him about, he wants this even less.
“Ok?” Akito says, sitting at his desk while his father sits on his bed.
“So, Akito, I won’t ask for the details about whatever happened tonight,” Shinei starts and oh thank Miku for that. “But I’m going to guess something happened at your show, it went poorly, and you’re feeling very dejected right now.”
Understatement of the fucking century.
“But,” Shinei continues. “It’s probably good that this happened now and not when you’re older so you know how to deal with it. And Akito, no matter what happened or how bad you feel, you cannot give up on singing.”
Akito blinks. “What?”
“You cannot under any circumstances give up your creative passions after you turn 20.”
“Who are you and what did you do with my dad?” Akito asks.
“Akito I’m being very serious right now.”
“Isn’t this like the exact opposite of what you told Ena?” Akito says. “Something about art being super lonely?”
“Ena isn’t cursed.”
“Excuse me?”
Shinei is deathly serious. “The firstborn sons of the Shinonome family are cursed to die if they lose their drive to be creative after they turn 20.”
“What?”
“We all naturally have a passion for doing something creative, and if that drive is ever lost it will kill us,” Shinei says.
“If this is a joke, it REALLY isn’t funny.”
“Akito have I ever told a joke in your life?”
“Oh shit,” Akito says. Then his brain catches up with everything his dad says and he grabs his phone and starts texting
He sees a news alert before he can get the message out though.
Unidentified male, seemingly in his 20s, found collapsed…
“Crap,” Akito says. “Get in the car we have to go to the hospital.”
“What?” Shinei asks. “Why?”
“Because I’m not your firstborn son
-
Souma has to beg the nurses to let him see Arata.
The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him, but they’re doing everything they can to keep him alive.
It was Akito who texted Toya, and since Toya knew Arata was at the hospital a lot, asked if one of Souma’s nurses could confirm his identity.
After that they were reluctant to let Souma see him because of what was going on, but eventually they relented.
Dying.
How could Arata be dying? Souma was supposed to die first, probably should have in the initial car crash.
Arata has a perfect bill of health; he can’t just collapse with some unknown condition!
But there he is, lying on a hospital bed, with vitals Souma knows too well means things are bad, impossibly pale.
He grasps Arata’s hand in his good one and doesn’t let go, even as Yoka arrives and starts crying, and Toya, An, and Kohane show up to comfort him.
An looks like she’s already been crying today, but Souma doesn’t ask.
Finally, Akito arrives with a man who does kind of look like Arata.
“Hello,” the man with Akito says. “I’m Shinei Shinonome, I believe this is my fault?”
Yoka spins around and slaps him, and Shinei nods.
“I probably deserved that. I’m so sorry Yuma, I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
“It’s Yoka.”
“Oh,” Shinei says. “Just slap me again if you want.”
“What I want is to know what’s going on with my son.”
“Right. Ok so, the firstborn sons of the Shinonome family are afflicted with a curse that hits when they become 20. After that point if they lose their creative drive, they die.”
“Arata… lost his creative drive?” Souma gasps.
“Him, along with everyone else in our group,” Kohane mutters. “Taiga decided to challenge us to show us we couldn’t surpass RAD WEEKEND.”
Souma winces “It went that badly?”
“Yeah,” An says. “Aunt Nagi’s dead.”
“She died at your show?!”
“No, she’s been dead for three years and everyone in town knew except us.”
“What about Arata?” Souma says instead of processing that. “Even if Taiga was tough and Nagi was dead he wouldn’t just give up–”
“Taiga told him he’d never be able to surpass RAD WEEKEND because he didn’t really care about it.” Toya says, “because really all he cared about was keeping his promise to you.”
Taiga… used Souma to hurt Arata? Lead him to almost die (albeit unintentionally on Taiga’s part)?!
Souma takes a deep breath and turns back to Arata. “Hey, partner, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry about what Taiga said to you. He’s a bastard. Anyway, apparently you need to keep being creative or you’ll die, and I know this is selfish, but I need you to live for me, partner. Don’t keep being a singer if you don’t want to, write, or draw, or do anything. I don’t care, but I love you partner and I need you to live!”
Souma repeats “I need you to live” like it’s a prayer, and soon he feels movement in his hand. He jerks his head up. “Arata?!”
“Hey, partner,” Arata says weakly. “What happened?” Arata takes a look around the room and his smile drops. “What the hell are the rest of you doing here?”
“Glad you’re ok,” Akito says. “Anyway, it turns out you inherited a curse from our dad.”
“Oh of fucking course,” Arata says. “God, anything else I need to know about?”
“Please tell me you don’t have a second family curse,” Yoka says.
“No,” Shinei says. “We used to think there was another one, but when I was a kid we figured out that autism was just really common in my family so other than those, that should be everything.”
“What about the allergy to penicillin?” Akito asks.
“That’s your mother’s side of the family.”
“Great well if you haven’t given me any more troubles can you get out? I’m having a moment with my partner here. The rest of you leave too.”
“Excuse me?” Yoka says. “You just nearly died, I don’t care how much you love Souma, you’re not kicking me out.”
“Ok fine, everyone except my mom and my partner get the hell out.”
“Glad you’re not dead, by the way,” An says. “You know the worst day of my life would be even worse if that happened. Still doing shit otherwise, thanks for asking.”
“Oh my god, we’ll deal with that later.”
“I want to point out that I’m the one who realized you might die and rushed over here,” Akito says.
“Thank you, now get out.”
Everyone except Yoka leaves, and Arata smiles the prettiest smile in the world.
“I guess we’ll have to stay partners,” Arata says. “Or else I’ll die. How could I possibly have any creative drive without you?”
“Oh no, how terrible,” Souma says, and he doesn’t hesitate. He leans in to kiss Arata for the first time in far too long.
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It’s been a while. I am still technically on hiatus, but I feel bad since I haven’t been able to work on anything new lately. So, to compensate, I have two short fanfics of Arata and Souma (NPC’s) that I wrote months ago.
These fanfics are my interpretation of what may have happened off screen, since Project Sekai doesn’t shows a lot of moments between them on screen. The first fanfic is supposed to be right before Arata leaves for America to train. The second fanfic is supposed to be the night that they all beat Rad Weekend. I tried not to make them OOC, and remember, this is just my interpretation of what may have happened. Also, this is my first time posting fanfics online, so be nice please. 😭
1) The End of Gurney Flap
The hospital room is too bright, too quiet. Souma sits stiffly in bed, staring at his paralyzed right hand in his lap. Arata stands by the window, arms crossed, looking out at nothing. The air between them is heavy with resignation. When Souma speaks, his voice is hollow.
"...We should dissolve Gurney Flap," Souma quietly said.
A beat. Arata doesn’t turn around.
"Yeah."
Souma’s breath hitches. He hadn’t expected the quick agreement. His fingers curl weakly into the sheets.
"You should find a new partner. Someone who can... actually stand on stage with you,” Souma shakily said.
Arata finally turns. His expression is unreadable, but his voice is softer than Souma’s ever heard it.
"I’m going to America,” Arata declared.
Souma blinks. This wasn’t the reaction he expected.
"What?"
Arata stepped closer, “I’m going to train there. And at least become strong enough for the both of us."
Arata quietly took a step forward and declared, "I’ll surpass Rad Weekend. For us.”
‘Us.’ The word hangs between them. Souma’s vision blurs.
Souma whispered, “….You don’t have to do that."
Arata paused for a moment, and then continued,
"It’s too late. I’ve already decided."
Silence. The heart monitor beeps on. Souma gulps hard, gripping his right hand with his left. Souma’s vision begins to blur even more. He ducks his head. But not fast enough, since a traitorous tear slipped free and splashes onto his paralyzed hand.
"I’m sorry-"
Arata crosses the room in two strides. His hand gently grips Souma’s good arm.
"Don’t…. Don’t be sorry, Souma."
Souma squeezes his eyes shut. Arata’s grip doesn’t waver.
"I’ll come back. And when I do," Arata pauses, then, with quiet conviction, “I’ll definitely beat Rad Weekend.”
Souma slowly looks back up and somberly smiles with tears in his eyes.
2) After Rad Blast
“...You really came back,” Souma said, barely above a whisper.
Arata stood in front of him, slightly breathless. His eyes, usually sharp and guarded, were softer now.
“Yeah.” His voice was low, filled with emotions still stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry I took so long.”
Souma shook his head, offering a small, fragile smile. “It’s okay. You were here when it mattered. Though, I would have appreciated a message before hand.”
Arata hesitated. His gaze flickered down to the floor, then back to Souma.
“I heard your song,” he said. “The one you sent me.”
Souma blinked, breath catching in his throat.
“…I wasn’t sure if you’d even listen to it.”
“I didn’t,” Arata admitted. “Not at first. I couldn’t. I thought… I didn’t deserve to.”
“But when I did…” Arata continued, “I realized how much I still want to be by your side.”
Souma’s heart started to quicken. His throat tightened. He smiled gently, with his vision blurring again.
“I never stopped wanting that either.”
Finally. The words that had been buried under years of silence and pain.
Arata looked down at the floor, then back up. His voice dropped even quieter.
“Souma.” He took a step forward, careful, deliberate. “If… If we tried again… would you be willing to make music with me?”
He paused, jaw clenched, eyes averting. “I’m not asking you to forgive me for leaving you suddenly. I just… want to move forward. With you.”
Souma took a breath with no hesitation.
“Yes. I would want nothing more.”
Arata stared at him a little stunned. Like he hadn’t believed he would hear that answer.
“...Even if I mess up again?”
“If you mess up, then we’ll try again. As many times as it takes.” Souma’s voice wavered, but his resolve didn’t. “You know, I don’t need a perfect Arata. I just want… you.”
The moment Arata heard that, his eyes softened.
Then Arata moved one step closer, then another, until he was right in front of Souma. He knelt slightly, so their eyes were level.
“Then it’s settled,” he said. His voice was hoarse but determined. “We’ll be a team again.”
Souma smiled, brighter this time, with something light and certain in his chest.
