Disclaimer: Persona 3 doesn't belong to me. I just like playing in ATLUS' sandbox.:D

Warnings: Nonsexual nudity, violence, self-injury, and massive dramaangst. Spoilers through 1/31.

Lilacs and Landmines

Listen up, lovely,
And hear what the evening sees in you -
Lilacs and landmines...
- Halloween, Alaska - Call it Clear

Port Island Station is as crowded as always, but it only takes a moment and a single glance to notice that one person is... well, perhaps not missing, for a scattered handful of appearances do not a routine make. There is no one at all sitting in front of the florist's, and certainly not the bold and pretty artist whose presence Mitsuru has come to expect; a casual "see you tomorrow" is by no means a promise, but now that she's here and Chidori is not, she finds she had taken it as one.

Perhaps it's better this way, for if Mitsuru is honest with herself she doesn't have time, today, to spend on idle chatter (even if it is with a most intriguing girl) - not with a full moon and another mysterious Shadow lying in wait. It would be best to get back to the dorm and prepare, or at least rest and save her energy for the battle to come.

It would be best. And she almost listens to that logic, for it is not just her own wellbeing that relies on it. She even turns back, fully intending to catch the next train to the dorm, when... something... stops her.

That "something" hits her like a cry for help, and she's taken three long strides in its direction before she realizes that she heard it, not with her ears, but with her mind. The voice is distinctly Penthesilea's, and that makes the decision to investigate easy. Anything so out of place as to catch her Persona's attention during the day is more than worth a look. As she reaches the alley that leads to Port Island's less reputable streets she rummages in her bag for her cell phone, mind racing through the schedules of her teammates in case she needs backup. She goes so far as to scroll through her contacts to Arisato's number, then snaps her phone shut when she rounds a corner and sees just what woke Penthesilea.

There are no rogue Shadows, as she had feared (she knows too much not to fear, even without proof that Shadows can ever leave the Dark Hour). Just two teenage boys, one with a knife... and their target, a pretty girl with long red hair backed right into a corner.

The sight of Chidori struggling to fend off that knife - hands already bleeding from her attempts to block it - sends Mitsuru reaching for her Evoker, her rapier, anything before she remembers that she is unarmed. That there is nothing to have caught Penthesilea's attention means nothing to her; all that matters is ending the fight, quickly, before any more of Chidori's blood is spilt.

She steps forward, without a plan or anything but sheer determination. The knife clashes against a thick chain held between Chidori's hands, stopped inches away from reaching her throat. And maybe it is Fate - or perhaps just Mitsuru's footsteps - that causes the unarmed boy to look up and meet her eyes.

"Hey," he starts, surprised, and his companion jerks around to look at him, "ain't she a Kirijo?"

There might as well be magic in that name for the speed with which it ends the fight. "Shit," hisses Chidori's assailant, and he drops his knife and flees, his friend hot on his heels. Chidori falls to her knees, chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath.

One of her hair ribbons has come undone, and her headdress is askew. Her sleeves are slashed open in places, over her wrists and hands, and stained with blood from the wounds beneath them; the chain with which she was defending herself is still wrapped loosely around her fingers. A longer, deeper cut stretches across her chest. She looks utterly exhausted and more than slightly ill, and when Mitsuru reaches for her phone again it isn't to call Arisato.

"Chidori?" she says quietly, crouching down beside her with phone in hand. Something in her chest has tied itself into a knot at the sight of Chidori's injuries, and her voice comes out strangled because of it. She is no stranger to battle wounds, of course, but it is different when her teammates are injured - she can heal them, or at the very least watch Takeba do it better. But though she longs to set Penthesilea to work on Chidori, she knows she cannot. "I won't let you run off on me this time. I'm calling for an ambulance -"

"No!"

Chidori lifts her head slowly, as though it's simply too heavy to hold up, but she finds the strength to reach out and knock the phone from Mitsuru's hand. It skitters across the pavement and comes to a stop a foot or so away, next to the abandoned knife. "No," she repeats, boldly meeting Mitsuru's eyes as though daring her to insist otherwise. Her own eyes are wide, and fearful. Wild, like those of some untamed animal caught in a trap.

Mitsuru is familiar enough with her stubborn streak, her passion, but this is new and impossible to understand.

"You're injured." Years of practice keep her voice calm and steady, even though her nerves are anything but. Her heart hammers in her chest as rapidly as though she was the one just fighting for her life. "Worse than the last time. You mustn't be so stubborn about this, Chidori!"

Her words seem to fall on deaf ears; Chidori only shakes her head, even as she gasps, open-mouthed, for breath. "I won't... go to the hospital," she manages to say, and though her voice shakes the determination in it is crystal clear. "I won't!"

It seems wrong to argue with someone who is so clearly in pain, but leaving her here isn't an option either; Mitsuru combs her mind for answers, but can think of very few that suit her. With Chidori in this state she could easily keep her here to wait for an ambulance, but the way her stomach tightens at the thought is a promise that restraining her would hurt them both. Bringing her to the dorm is out of the question... but the dorm is not the only place available to her. Maybe...

"If you won't go to the hospital," she says, careful to keep her voice absolutely steady, "will you at least let me take you home with me?"

The Kirijo manor isn't quite "home", and hasn't been in three full years, but Mitsuru is still more than welcome there. She could have a car here almost as quickly as an ambulance (it's a shame she doesn't have her motorcycle with her, for that would be faster still), and Chidori is not so badly hurt that she can't wait until she's calmer to see a doctor. It would be preferable to take her to the hospital, but anything is better than leaving her here to be attacked again. Mitsuru finds that she is holding her breath as she waits for an answer, desperate to do something.

"...fine." Chidori's answer is spoken in so soft a whisper that Mitsuru can barely hear it, but it is an answer and that is all that matters.

Mitsuru reaches for her phone and is relieved to find it functional, if a bit scratched up from the fall. She doesn't think she's ever been more grateful that the servants aren't in the habit of asking questions; she doesn't have to explain why she's in the bad part of town, or why she needs a ride to the manor instead of the dorm. All she has to do is ask, and rest assured that she and Chidori won't be here much longer.

That cut on Chidori's chest is still alarming, though, even if the bleeding does seem to have slowed a great deal. Once she's made her arrangements she rummages in her bag for a handkerchief, and for a moment, distracted by her thoughts as she runs through everything she knows about stopping bleeding without use of healing magic, she forgets just who she is dealing with. Only when Chidori flinches away and glares at her from under her bangs does she remember how touchy the other girl is about being touched. At least she has the energy to glare, though, and at least breathing no longer seems to be such a struggle for her, though she still looks frighteningly pale - almost as white as her dress.

"I just want to stop the bleeding," Mitsuru coaxes, and to her relief she's rewarded with a tiny nod as her answer. She carefully presses the folded handkerchief against the cut and presses down on it with her palm, wincing in sympathy for how it must hurt.

Her fingertips end up resting in the hollow of Chidori's throat, and she can feel Chidori's pulse flutter beneath them, though it is much too rapid and much too faint. Her skin feels downright hot to the touch, and she shivers a little - "Cold," she whispers, and Mitsuru can't help but laugh.

"I'm sorry. I've always had cold hands." Penthesilea's influence, no doubt.

Chidori is clearly in no mood for conversation, so Mitsuru doesn't try to break the silence that stretches out between them. It's enough just to be able to sit here, closer than she's ever been without Chidori running away. She loses herself in thought, so much that she's startled when she hears a voice calling her name.

"Lady Mitsuru!"

That voice seems to startle Chidori as well, for she jerks her head up and stares, wide-eyed, at the man approaching them. But she doesn't flee, or pull away, and Mitsuru will take that as a victory.

"Put your hand there," she orders, nodding to the handkerchief, and Chidori obediently replaces Mitsuru's hand with her own. As her sleeve falls back Mitsuru catches a glimpse of the wounds on her wrist, several unpleasant-looking cuts that are, at least, no longer bleeding. Standing, she offers Chidori a hand, and smiles when she takes it and helps herself to her feet as well.

That she was attacked is by no means a good thing, but Mitsuru is... proud that she is not too stubborn to accept help in coping with it. From what little she knows about Chidori, such a simple thing could easily be quite a struggle.

"My sketchbook..." Chidori glances behind her, and, following her gaze, Mitsuru sees the spiral-bound book and box of colored pencils lying in the dirt. She scoops them up and tucks them safely into her bag, then takes a step towards the waiting driver, and after a long moment of hesitation Chidori steps after her.

Getting her to the car takes time; she pauses often, whether to catch her breath or to look around her in obvious discomfort, but time is something Mitsuru feels she has to spare. Once they reach the Kirijo manor she can entrust Chidori to the care of the servants and return to the dorm long before the Dark Hour - and if worst comes to absolute worst, SEES is more than capable of fighting without her. Things will work out, and right now, Chidori is her first priority.

Perhaps it's wrong to think that. Right now, Mitsuru doesn't care.

Getting Chidori into the car is a bit more of a challenge than getting her to it; though she says nothing, she stops just by the opened door, and doesn't move when Mitsuru slips inside. Mitsuru stands awkwardly crouched in the doorway for a moment or two, then gives the other girl's hand a gentle tug. "Is something wrong?" she asks, even though the answer - yes - is blatantly obvious, but just the act of asking is enough to get Chidori to behave. Without a word, she follows Mitsuru into the car, carefully gathering her skirt, and the chain she still holds, into her lap.

At the end of the chain is a small hatchet, painted bright red.

Were she not still so afraid of scaring Chidori off, Mitsuru would say something - in fact, she opens her mouth to do just that before thinking better of it and letting it lie. It bothers her that Chidori has a weapon... and that she didn't use it. Two mysteries. Acknowledging that this isn't the time to solve them is a struggle.

But it's not, and so Mitsuru looks away and throws herself into something else; trying to find someone who will answer their phone.

Akihiko is probably still busy with boxing team, and his phone rings and rings before finally going to voicemail. Arisato, however, picks up, and listens quietly as Mitsuru gives him the very minimum of information. He doesn't ask questions or pass judgment. All he does is reassure her that he'll pass the message on, and wish her luck - she'll have to thank him properly for that later.

Her SEES responsibilities taken care of, she turns her full attention back to Chidori... and doesn't like what she sees.

The now-bloody handkerchief has fallen to Chidori's lap, and the fingers of the hand she had used to hold it are pressed tightly to the back of the other, nails digging into one of the scabbed-over cuts there. Her expression is blank; her eyes, focused on the window and the scenery moving past, are dull and lifeless.

She seems completely apathetic to the fact that she is hurting herself. But that is exactly what she's doing.

"Chidori, you shouldn't..." Mitsuru trails off as the other girl turns to look at her, words failing her and falling victim to the lump in her throat. She isn't sure what hurts her most; seeing Chidori look so dead and lost, or seeing her scratch open her own wounds and draw her own blood. "Don't," she says, softly - she can't bring herself to order Chidori to do anything - and she reaches for the handkerchief and Chidori's bleeding hand.

It hurts even more to have her own hand pushed away.

"You really won't mind your own business, will you?" Chidori's voice is too quiet to be angry; she could almost be making pleasant conversation, if not for the words themselves. "I'm not hurting you. So why do you care?"

"I care because you are hurting me." The words come almost before Mitsuru can think, and when Chidori doesn't respond she struggles to elaborate. "Not physically. But it hurts me to see you injured, and to be pushed away when I only want to help. I care about you, Chidori. I care about all of my friends." And Chidori is a friend - or at least Mitsuru very much wants her to be. Not only because she is fascinating and strange, but because she seems so lost, and in need of someone to help her to her feet and on her way.

For a moment Chidori only stares at her, still and silent; then she shakes her head and looks away with a soft, weak chuckle. "You're so weird," she murmurs - but her hands stay apart, and right now that feels like a victory.

"So I've been told," Mitsuru agrees; mostly by the girl in front of her, who is so very weird in her own ways, but she's willing to admit that there's truth to it.

Chidori behaves herself for the rest of the ride, sitting quiet and still with her attention once again focused on the window. The bleeding stops quite quickly - remarkably quickly, in fact. Mitsuru doesn't think she's ever seen a wound heal so fast without magical assistance. Something isn't as it seems, but both her senses and Penthesilea's fail her when it comes to determining what.

Their destination soon comes into view through the windows, and Chidori seems to shrink into herself when she catches sight of the imposing manor before them. For a moment Mitsuru thinks that getting her out of the car might be just as difficult as getting her into it, but when the door is opened she steps out without complaint - though she clutches her hatchet's chain so tightly that her knuckles whiten and her hands shake.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asks, a tinge of hysteria to her voice. She looks so upset, so frightened, and Mitsuru can't understand why. Has it only just now sunk in that she was attacked? Is she hurting, is she sick? All she can do is force a smile, and hold out her hand as she starts up the front steps, silently willing Chidori to take it.

"I was worried about you," she tries to soothe, leading Chidori up the front steps. "Your injuries need treated, and you need a safe place to rest. This is a safe place, Chidori." She adds the last part as an afterthought, because it almost doesn't occur to her that anyone in this city would have to be reminded of that. If one can't find safety as a guest in the Kirijo home, where can one find it?

And yet Chidori doesn't seem to feel safe here. Every step is taken more slowly, more reluctantly; her hand is fever-warm, squeezing tightly enough to hurt, and the chain wrapped around it (the chain of a weapon, and why does she have a weapon, who does she have to fight?) almost seems hot enough to burn. When the maids start to fuss over her, sympathetic and concerned and full of questions, it is painfully obvious that she wants nothing more than to flee. "Any guest of Lady Mitsuru is more than welcome here," one says reassuringly, but the words only make Chidori flinch and step back.

The plan was to leave her here, secure in the knowledge that she would be well looked-after in Mitsuru's absence. But the mere suggestion that she let a bath be drawn for her causes such a strong reaction that Mitsuru has to dismiss that idea as simply unworkable; she isn't about to abandon Chidori if she feels so frightened and unsafe.

Why? her heart screams, but her mind shuts it out. Now is not the time for questions.

So she just keeps smiling, and in gestures and whispers asks the maids for what she'll need: first-aid supplies, things for a bath, clean clothes so Chidori's can be cleaned and mended if it's at all possible. The service she's always taken for granted seems Heaven-sent today, and she can't keep herself from praising the maids for it.

They bow, and smile, and humor her as they always do. And throughout all this Chidori is silent.

She only finds her voice once the two of them are alone in Mitsuru's room, which is spotless and barren of any hint of personality, or even any sign that anyone has ever lived in it. (Even Mitsuru thinks it looks a little sad - certainly compared to her room at the dorm, which at least has books on the desk and clothes in the closet.) "You can't live here - right?" she asks, looking around at the perfectly neat bed, the uncluttered vanity, all the signs that this room no longer serves any real purpose. There's a note of uncertainty in her voice that might be charming, in anyone else at any other time. Here and now, it makes Chidori sound less sure of herself than Mitsuru has ever seen her, and it only serves to illustrate how out of place she is.

"I've lived in the dorms since first year," Mitsuru says with a shake of her head as she steps into the bathroom, leaving the unspoken implications to be just that. At least there are signs of life here, in the things the maids brought in; everything she asked for and then some, as always. "I'd like to take care of your injuries, if that's all right. Then you can have a bath, and get some rest. I'll stay with you as long as I can, but -"

"You have plans tonight," Chidori finishes, voice soft and almost melancholy. She steps into the bathroom but lingers just inside the door, staring down at the intricately patterned tile and her own shoes. "With your friends. Tonight is..." But she trails off there, slipping into a silence that doesn't seem to be nearly as uncomfortable for her as it is for Mitsuru. Half-finished sentences and questions left unanswered set Mitsuru on edge, especially when paired with an undercurrent of something isn't right just underneath the surface.

"Tonight is...?" she repeats, trying to coax out a proper explanation, but Chidori only shakes her head and remains silent. So much for that. Picking up the first-aid kit the maids left, she retreats to a padded bench under the window and pats the space beside her. "Well - will you come here? Let me treat your injuries. I'll be gentle..." The disapproving scoff she gets in return doesn't quite hide a smile, or at least a twitch at the corner of Chidori's mouth that is almost a smile, and Chidori obligingly crosses the room to sit next to her.

True to her word, Mitsuru is as gentle as possible as she dabs disinfectant on the cut slashed across Chidori's chest, and in return Chidori sits almost impossibly still. She doesn't flinch away from the sting, or from Mitsuru's touch as she smooths down the edges of nonstick gauze and tape; the only sign that she is even present, in this moment, is the movement of her eyes as she watches something outside the window. It's as though she's resigned herself to being tended to, and decided to distance herself from that fact, or from her surroundings... from whatever is bothering her so much.

Only when Mitsuru moves to push back her sleeves does she finally stir, and then only to relax her grip on her hatchet's chain. The links have left angry marks across both her hands; rough edges have even bitten in and drawn blood, leaving dots and smears of bright red against her too-pale skin and the dark crimson of scabbed-over cuts. If she hadn't seen Chidori fighting with her own eyes, Mitsuru would think the injuries to be hours or even days old. As it is, she can only do what she can to clean them... and wonder.

Penthesilea feels nothing - not even the presence of another person, in fact, but she has never excelled at that sort of thing. She certainly doesn't sense a Persona, and that, surely, would be impossible to miss.

And so it remains a mystery.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asks as she fastens the last bandage carefully around Chidori's left hand. A shake of her companion's head is her only answer, though Chidori at least deigns to look away from the window and give Mitsuru her attention once more - for a moment, at least, before she stares down at her hands and flexes her wrists to test the tightness of the bandages.

"Would you like a bath?"

A nod, this time, but still not a single word; coming from a girl who's never before hesitated to share her opinion, it feels like more of a danger sign than the knife wounds. Holding back a sigh least Chidori take it to heart, Mitsuru shuts the first-aid kit and goes to start the water running. Is she doing something wrong? Is she what is making Chidori uncomfortable, or is it something beyond her control as well as her comprehension?

Only the running water fills the silence that stretches out between them, and Mitsuru bites her tongue and refrains from being so desperate as to strike up small talk about the weather. She focuses on the bath instead, filling the steaming water with bubbles and the soft scent of roses. As the tub nears full, she hears Chidori's footsteps behind her, and she shuts off the water and turns towards her.

"I'll leave you to your bath. Be careful not to let the bandages get -"

"Don't leave," Chidori blurts out, and from the look on her face it seems she didn't quite mean to speak those words. She recovers quickly, though, expression falling from startled to the vaguely discontent frown that seems so at home on her pretty face. "Mitsuru, I..."

There is something strange about being called just Mitsuru by Chidori, but that is how it has been since they met. Chidori has no reason to call her "senpai", after all, and seems to lack the manners to call an almost-stranger by her surname as would be strictly proper; it should grate on Mitsuru's patience, but somehow it is... tolerable, just as it is tolerable to use the given name of a girl she barely knows. (That Chidori hasn't given her a surname to use is only a minor point.) "I won't leave," she promises, letting the unfinished sentence lie, and she can see a tiny bit of tension ease from Chidori's shoulders and the way she holds herself.

"I don't feel very safe here," Chidori confesses, unasked, as she carefully lifts off her lacy headdress and bends to fuss with her shoes. "It's too... rich." Strange words coming from someone whose dress alone might easily have cost as much as entire outfits of Mitsuru's, but she has no reason to doubt them. Even if she had thought Chidori a liar, it would take a very good actress indeed to fake the apprehension that all but radiates from Chidori - not so much now, perhaps, as before they were alone, but still there.

"But," Chidori continues, with a smile that lights up her eyes and brings to them a bright, if momentary, spark of life, "it's not so bad when you're with me. So stay."

How can Mitsuru possibly argue with that?

She does look away, though, as Chidori pulls her hair over her shoulder to reach for the fastening of her dress. The other girl's seeming lack of modesty shouldn't bother her so much, for she's quite accustomed to changing with the other girls in fencing club, but this feels like a very different thing. She stares at the mounds of bubbles in the tub and pretends not to notice the glimpses of lace and flashing gemstones she can see out of the corner of her eye - at least until a soft chuckle makes her start and turn without thinking.

"You don't have to look away," Chidori says, stepping out of the dress that has pooled into a pile of ruffles and white around her feet. "We're both girls, aren't we? I don't mind if you look." There is something very matter of fact about the way she says it that makes Mitsuru take heed, if only because she is very... interested, in what lies under that dress.

It is not for any uncouth reasons that she cannot keep herself from staring, though perhaps it would be better if it was.

Chidori's skin is just barely darker than the white of her bra and ruffled petticoat, and utterly without flaw, unmarked by so much as a single scar the bandages don't cover. Yet instead of covering girlish curves that skin barely contains a frame so thin it looks half-starved; under all her frills Chidori is hardly more than skin, bones, and sharp edges.

"Are you... all right?" Mitsuru asks.

The words seem terribly insufficient when the answer is staring her right in the face, but they are, at least, enough to get Chidori to lift her head and look. For a moment she stands still, one ankle caught in her hand behind her - eyes wide, a deer caught in the headlights. Then she shakes her head and laughs. "Don't worry." She drops her ankle and balances on that foot to pull off her remaining stocking. "It's not contagious."

So Chidori is ill. So there's a reason for the pallor of her skin, and the jut of her bones. Mitsuru knows it is not her business to know, but possibilities spring up unbidden in her mind illnesses that could take a girl - hardly more than a child - and turn her into this. It is not her business to know, but there is nothing to keep her from wondering.

"I worry," she says, softly, because there is nothing to keep her from that, either. "Not for my sake, Chidori. For yours."

It is not her place to make decisions for someone old enough to decide things for herself. She could force Chidori to get medical care, or to stay here, where she will be safe and cared for... but it would not be right. It would not be fair to take Chidori's freedom from her. And so there is nothing she can do but offer help and worry when it is not taken.

"You're so weird."

And that seems to be all Chidori has to say on the subject, for soon she's preoccupied with pulling her long hair up and back from her face. "Do you have a hair tie?" she asks, as though there is nothing odd about the abrupt change of subject,

Mitsuru takes the hint and silently hands her a claw clip left by the always-thoughtful maids. If concern for another is so incredibly strange, she'll refrain from expressing it further. Keeping her thoughts locked up inside for politeness' sake is second nature; she can keep this quiet, too, and act instead of speaking. Actions, after all, speak louder than words.

Perhaps they can speak a language Chidori is better able to understand.

Once Chidori has settled into the bath, her bandaged hands carefully kept out of the water. Mitsuru crouches beside the tub, resting her arm against its edge and letting the tips of her fingers brush the rose-scented bubbles. This is as close as she dares get. If Chidori finds it any sort of comfort she will stay for as long as she's wanted.

It seems to help at least a little, or perhaps it's just the hot water that melts away a little more of the fear held in Chidori's posture; whatever the reason, she relaxes enough to close her eyes and rest, and she doesn't react when a maid slips into the room to collect her clothes for washing. For a while there's no conversation, nothing but the occasional squeak of Chidori's feet against the bottom of the tub as she squirms under cover of the sweet-scented bubbles.

Mitsuru doesn't truly realize that she is lost in thought until a feather-light touch against her fingers snaps her back into the present. Chidori jerks her hand away when she notices that Mitsuru has noticed, looking guiltily away as though there is something wrong in wanting that small bit of comfort. And though she is not accustomed to holding hands, it seems to make perfect sense to chase Chidori's down and hold it tight, mindful of the bandages. The smile she gets in return, and the warmth of Chidori's fingers curling around her own, are more than enough compensation for an afternoon's worth of worry and uncertainty.

A soft knock at the bathroom door and a hesitant call of "Lady Mitsuru?" remind her that she is never truly alone here, and she reluctantly gets to her feet to see what is the matter.

She is far from prepared to have a gun thrust into her hands the moment the door is closed behind her.

"I - I found this in a pocket of your companion's dress, milady," the maid stammers, her gaze fixed on the floor instead of the weapon in Mitsuru's hands. "I thought... I thought that you would want to see it. That you would know what to do."

It is not a gun, Mitsuru realizes, as she turns it over in her hands and sees her family name written across the side. The design is branded into her memory, for this is a perfect replica of the Evoker she kept as a child; more battered and worn from use than she had ever allowed hers to become, but unmistakable for what it is nonetheless. But how can that be...? Only a few were ever made, and all were destroyed when they were no longer of use. She watched them be destroyed with her own eyes!

Even more of a question than how is why. What use does Chidori have for an Evoker, when she is not - when she cannot be a Persona-user? Penthesilea would have noticed that potential back when they first met, if it had been there, but she has sensed nothing. Not even the normal spark of life that Mitsuru can feel in every living thing...

Every living thing.

"Thank you," she whispers to the terrified maid, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. She should have suspected something long ago, when she realized that Chidori did not possess that spark, but she had brushed it off as a quirk of Penthesilea's limited abilities. The wounds that healed so quickly should have forced her to think, but she had let her heart get the best of her, and willfully ignored what had been right in front of her face.

She can no longer enjoy the luxury of ignorance.

"Mitsuru? Why did you leave?"

She cannot continue to allow her heart to rule her head, but that plaintive call from the bathroom almost makes her forget that. Chidori has been alone for mere minutes, but there's an uncertain sort of almost-fear in her voice that settles in Mitsuru's chest and makes it ache. Even though she knows full well that the best of intentions are not enough to prevent disaster - even though she knows that she must hold SEES' best interests above all else - she has to stare at the Evoker in her hands to steady her resolve. For SEES' sake, she must know if this newfound Persona-user is their enemy.

"I'm right here," she calls back through the door before she pushes it open, forcing herself to keep her voice calm. Anger, hurt, infatuation... none of those things will get her anywhere. She must be calm. She will be calm. "I need to ask you a few questions, Chidori. Will you answer them for me?"

It is not out of any intent to deceive that she keeps the Evoker behind her back as she steps into the bathroom once more, the physical equivalent of a little white lie. Chidori will find out soon enough that her secret has been discovered, but she will find out on Mitsuru's terms. Despite her conflicting feelings and the tightness in her chest, Mitsuru finds herself plotting out the conversation like a battle. She has the advantage of familiar ground, and the first attack... but Chidori has the benefit of surprise, and of being so strange that she throws her opponent off-balance.

"Questions...?" Chidori frowns down at the bubbles that surround her. The squeak-squeak-squeak of her foot rubbing against the bottom of the tub grates on Mitsuru's fraying nerves. "What kind of questions? Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not." Another lie, perhaps not so small as the last. If she has intentionally deceived Mitsuru, wormed her way into Mitsuru's heart and inside of her barriers instead of stumbled there by chance, she has indeed done something wrong. But Mitsuru wants to think the best of her that she can, when so far there is no real evidence that she has done anything but hide an aspect of herself that most people would never believe.

She crouches beside the bathtub once more, and keeps her hand on the Evoker resting in her lap. "Chidori... do you know the meaning of the word 'Persona'?"

It's worded to be a simple question, even if the implications behind it are far more complex, but Chidori's response is nothing so simple as a spoken "yes" or "no". It's her body that tells Mitsuru the answer; the way she freezes, the way her eyes widen as she realizes that her clothes aren't where she left them. She knows. And in an instant, that knowledge transforms her.

"Medea!" For a girl usually so soft-spoken, the sheer volume of her cry is startling - not a whisper, but a yell. "How dare you - give her back!"

Water sloshes over the edge of the tub and drenches Mitsuru's skirt as Chidori lunges desperately for her Evoker. Only by scrambling to her feet can Mitsuru keep the gun out of Chidori's reach, and she has to step back to ensure that it remains that way. She does not aim to be cruel. She only... wants to be cautious. The only other Persona-users they are aware of are Strega, after all. There is no room to be careless in the name of being kind.

Telling herself that makes it no easier to steel herself against the wild desperation in Chidori's eyes, or the way her reaching hands, having missed their target, twitch pathetically closed around fistfuls of air.

"'Medea'? Is that your Persona's name?" Mitsuru frowns, trying to fit together the pieces. "I haven't taken her from you, if that's the case. A Persona isn't something that can be stolen."

More water spills onto the bathroom floor as Chidori tries to struggle to her feet, only to fall to her knees instead. "Give her back!" she repeats instead of answering, hugging her arms tightly to her chest. Her bandages are soaking wet now; her hair, spilling out of its messy bun, is getting wet as well. Huddled in the bathtub, shaking, she looks half-drowned, little more than half-sane, but fully miserable. "You don't understand - I need her, give her back!"

"I haven't taken her, Chidori." It's like speaking to a child, and a particularly stubborn one at that. Merely the knowledge that her Evoker was moved was enough to send her into hysterics - and such a tantrum might be expected from a toddler, but certainly not from a young woman old enough to know better! "Please, listen to me -"

"No!" A careless gesture of Chidori's arm splashes more water onto the floor, and the tone of her voice makes it clear that further conversation is pointless. No amount of repetition will convince Chidori that Mitsuru's words are truth, not if she is so determined to ignore them...

...no. That isn't it.

Mitsuru knows determination, and it doesn't drive a person to madness like this. It isn't, can't be, determination that causes Chidori to tremble, to sob, to dig her nails into her own skin and draw blood just as she did in the car; it is something far less healthy, far less sane.

Once she realizes that, deciding what to do is simple. Chidori might not want to go to the hospital, but there is nothing Mitsuru can do for her here, and simply letting her go wouldn't be an option even if she weren't so unstable. Mitsuru needs her answers... and Chidori needs help that Mitsuru simply cannot give. Sometimes, forfeit is the only option. She has no intention of giving up entirely, but at least for now it's simply the best choice for them both.

Chidori doesn't protest when Mitsuru leaves, this time; she seems beyond that, beyond caring. Still, Mitsuru is only gone for a moment or two, just long enough to find a maid and quietly give her instructions. Have someone call for an ambulance. Have someone call Arisato, as well, and tell him to gather everyone to meet her at Tatsumi Memorial Hospital - the Kirijo family's connections there will make things easier. And she'll need help dealing with Chidori...

Before she returns to the bathroom, this time with several servants at her side, she slips Chidori's Evoker into her bag for safekeeping. Then - with a deep breath to steel herself for the unpleasantness to come - she steps into the bathroom to confront Chidori for the last time.

Words have failed her, and so she keeps her mouth shut as she pulls a struggling Chidori out of the bathtub. The girl barely weighs a thing, so it's almost easy to lift her, and Mitsuru has no trouble wrapping a towel around her and keeping her restrained simply by holding her tight against her chest. Though she kicks and squirms and does her best to get free, Chidori is simply no match for Mitsuru's greater strength - with how thin and light she is Mitsuru thinks it's a wonder she has enough strength to walk.

"Medea," Chidori whispers occasionally as they wait, as though calling out to someone who has left her, and Mitsuru can't understand that. A Persona has no connection to the Evoker used to summon it, after all. Taking away the latter does nothing to remove the former from its owner's heart, and Mitsuru wouldn't dream of stealing away someone else's Persona even if she could. It's a precious bond, and one she has no right to interfere with.

And, in Chidori's case, a bond more fragile than she can comprehend. Perhaps in time Chidori will calm down enough to answer questions, just to satisfy Mitsuru's ever-growing curiosity. Or... perhaps she will hate Mitsuru, instead, a possibility that bothers her far more than it should.

She worries about Chidori. She cares - perhaps too much.

"Medea hasn't left you," she tries to reassure the girl in her arms. "I can feel her." Or rather, Penthesilea can - a fiery-hot presence where there was nothing before. Does Medea have the power to hide her presence from those who would seek it out? But either way, Mitsuru's words do nothing to comfort Chidori. She seems beyond comfort, beyond reason; Mitsuru can only hope it will be possible to bring her back.

It feels as though a small eternity passes before the ambulance arrives and she relinquishes Chidori to the care of the paramedics. Nobody questions her when she states that the ambulance will go to Tatsumi Memorial, and that she will ride along - her family name ensures that nobody dares question her. It would be more sensible to change into dry clothes and follow along later, but sense has left Mitsuru's mind entirely, and all she does is allow a towel to be wrapped around her shoulders before she picks up her bookbag and follows the paramedics downstairs.

Chidori has enough strength to fight the paramedics tooth and nail, but nowhere near enough to keep them from securing her to the stretcher and going about their tests and paperwork. Settling herself in a corner, as out of the way as she can manage, Mitsuru can only shake her head as they ask her questions; no, she doesn't know Chidori's last name, or her birthdate, or if she has any allergies or health conditions. That isn't the kind of information Penthesilea can gather, and somehow she doesn't think anyone cares to know that Chidori is strong in fire, and in healing...

"Pauvre petite chérie," she whispers - "poor little darling". Even if she is keeping secrets that might prove harmful - even if she is associated with Strega, or others who would call themselves SEES' enemies - nobody deserves this kind of chaos. Especially not someone so small, so fragile, so -

She has to shake her head to chase that train of thought away. Yes, she's definitely come to care too much.

They part ways at the hospital, Chidori vanishing into a private room and Mitsuru joining the rest of the team in the waiting room. Akihiko jumps to his feet when he sees her, and the others soon follow his example. They're all asking different questions of her, all at once, and she somehow manages to smile, and calm them down.

"I seem to have befriended another Persona-user," she tells them. "Unfortunately, she's mentally unstable... and it's quite possible that she's our enemy." Those words hurt to say, but they're the truth nonetheless, and she can't allow herself to regret them.

By the time she's finished explaining the situation she's shivering, soaked to the skin with water that's long since lost its warmth (though the scent of roses, now more cloying than soothing, remains). Arisato apparently had the foresight to bring a change of clothes, though how he knew to do so is far beyond her, and she leaves SEES in his capable hands while she tracks down a bathroom to change in.

The others soon grow tired of waiting, and she can't say that she blames them. Soon after they leave, a doctor approaches her and asks for a moment of her time.

She listens to what he has to say, though none of it surprises her. Chidori is ill, though with what, precisely, they have yet to figure out. They had to sedate her before they could run any tests. Mitsuru can visit her, if she promises to be brief - and that permission is all Mitsuru cares about.

The room is dark and quiet, and Chidori, curled up asleep in the room's single bed, looks so very pitiful that Mitsuru can't bring herself to stay long. Besides, there's a full moon looming that will soon need her full attention. Though there are countless things she thinks she should do or say, in the end all she does is leave Chidori's sketchbook and colored pencils on the small table beside her bed.

Chidori's Evoker, she keeps. Perhaps the promise of having her precious Medea "returned" to her will encourage Chidori to talk.

Or perhaps it will only cause them both more pain.

Mitsuru's never been less sure of anything in her life.