Disclaimer: I don't own Persona 3 FES or anything that relates to it.
Here's the first part of a drama featuring Ken and Mitsuru! It's an unusual pairing, but I had a sudden inspiration to write a tale that deals with complex emotions and the softer side of Mitsuru Kirijo. I don't quite know where it's going yet, but I hope that it turns out okay! Please read and review and let me know what you think! :)
o1.
Surrounded by the suffocating puke-green air and the ever-growing pool of rose-red blood, Ken ran.
He ignored the alarmed, desperate calls of his teammates as he skirted the edges of the run-down alley, streaking into the eerie luminescence of the full moon. He couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't live with himself. If he hadn't been such a soured, weak child, Shinji would still be alive. If he hadn't lured him out to the place where all crimes flourish, perhaps they both would have escaped with their lives. It was all his fault.
Coffins towered above him as he continued to race towards the one place he could mourn and mope and straighten things out: the shrine. It was where Koro-chan had taken refuge, and it was where Ken would be welcomed and able. The Dark Hour was bound to be near its close, but it didn't even matter. No one would care about a roughed-up, crying elementary kid running amuck. No one besides his mother had ever truly cared about him.
Out of breath, Ken stopped, hunched over and panting. Under the shade of the colossal donation building, only his eyes gleamed with moist, pained fury. No one could see him, and no one would want to. He sank to his knees and let out a wail, the first since that fateful night three years ago.
A flash of silver hair had come to him then, and a hesitant hand had clapped his shoulder. Still a young child, Ken had reached out to it only to find a formidable gap. Akihiko had stood his distance and stared at him lugubriously, a hint of fear intertwined with his sorrow. Before Ken could call out his name, he had vanished, flanking the heavily-clothed figure that had taken away Ken's reason for living.
Fresh fatigue and anger shot through Ken as his screams continued and as he pounded his fists to the ground. How could Akihiko have acted so selfishly? Didn't he know that Ken had always admired him? Didn't he realize desperation and longing when it cried right in front of his face? He had summoned enough pity to provide a single, radiant touch, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough.
And as he sat on the grungy gravel, his persona helpless as he battled a plight out of anyone else's hands, Akihiko again failed to appear. But as Ken covered his face with his hands, shaking with his uncontrollable sobs, someone else came for him.
The wind shifted, and Ken could scent a regal, feminine scent coming from the distance. Afraid, he snapped his head up and looked wildly around, finally spotting the source of the oddly appealing and comforting aroma.
Mitsuru moved closer to stand in front of the crouched, defeated boy, her arms crossed and pressed against her chest. Staring up at her, Ken felt a single tear roll down his glistening blue eye. He looked into her sparkling amber-brown pits, and she gazed back. And without a word, he was pressed against her slender body and bawling his ten-year old eyes out.