Welcome to my massive P3/P4 crossover universe! This is going to be a gritty, emotional roller coaster of a ride.
The relationships are mainly going to be Mitsuru/Akihiko and Naoto/Kanji, but there will be other 'ships explored and tried out.
This particular 'fic explores Mitsuru's history and backstory. It may get headcanon-heavy at times; apologies in advance if something doesn't suit you.
Thanks for reading. Also, don't post rotten comments! I've opted to spend my valuable time writing this and posting it for you to read for free - and I don't shitpost on your stories. Being considerate and constructive should be a rule/guideline.
The enormous ballroom radiated elegance. Every inch of the ceiling was covered with lights in a bid to rival the galaxy. Items that had no business being gold-plated shone beneath them, from tablecloths to cutlery to the actual 24-karat gold flakes in the sumptuous dessert. A thousand wine glasses never emptied, guests and servants were both dressed to the nines, and the emperor himself was rumored to have been invited to attend.
And Mitsuru Kirijo was bored to tears.
Twenty-one, Father.
You were ready to take on the world at this age.
How disappointed you must be now.
The Kirijo Group had insisted on throwing their CEO's only daughter a birthday gala on an international scale. At twenty-one years of age, Mitsuru was now a legal adult in every country she held property in. The fact that she was now the world's most eligible bachelorette had not gone unnoticed either, unfortunately. If Mitsuru hadn't insisted on overseeing the guest list, she would be the only unmarried woman in this room tonight. She was quite certain she was the youngest by far. Most of the attending guests were also old money heirs or a few degrees descended from royalty. Snobby stuffed shirts to a man, and Mitsuru had no interest in any of them. They never saw the suffering that Apathy Syndrome had brought to Iwatodai as they lounged in their nice mansions, tsk-tsking at the news and haughtily huffing at the state of the country these days. A newspaper magnate complained loudly about the lack of attention his articles on the recent kidnappings drew thanks to the Internet, and a young dot-com wunderkind steadfastly argued that static media was passé, with their bubble-headed cheerleader dates interjecting useless "Oohs" and "Tee-hees". It galled her. She was raised to be one of these people, but she felt as if a two-way mirrored wall had been erected in between them. She could see them for what they really were, but when they looked at her, they only saw themselves.
As the board of directors paraded her around like a show poodle, Mitsuru did a competent job of smiling and greeting, cordial enough to pass for a socialite. She barely remembered any of the names she was inundated with until one in particular grabbed her: Hiraku Shirogane. Upon further inspection, the man wore an analytical expression nearly identical to a certain Detective Prince. Mitsuru made a mental note to request his presence at her table later that evening in order to inquire about his granddaughter.
Thinking about Shirogane reminded her of the Inaba debacle and the ongoing problem that was Sho Minazuki. After the "P-1 Climax", the belligerent boy had completely dropped off their radar – and the Shadow Operatives had state-of-the-art radar! Yet another life that Shuji Ikutsuki had ruined in his delusional bid to rule the world.
Mitsuru quickly grabbed a wineglass off a nearby tray to hide her face before anyone noticed she was tearing up. Even after all these years, the thought of a man she'd trusted her entire life betraying her in the worst possible way still hurt more than she'd cared to admit. Thanks to him, instead of her father raising a toast to his little girl becoming a woman, it was their Public Relations Manager, a man who barely knew her well enough to realize she'd never wanted this party in the first place. Most importantly – and again, only her father would appreciate this – none of Mitsuru's dear friends were present. Not that she could blame them; spending the evening with people who no doubt saw net worth over people's heads the way Artemisia saw resistances and weaknesses did not sound like a fun evening. She briefly wondered what they were doing now.
She knew what Fuuka was doing. PROJECT_PUPPETMASTER, Ikutsuki's encrypted files, turned out to be a massive undertaking. Bundled with Minazuki's life story were other files waiting to be broken into, and the bashful, teal-haired girl showed a surprising amount of enthusiasm in tackling them. She's come so far since we rescued her in high school. Mitsuru forced herself to smile, but it was short-lived. And here I am, still imprisoned in this life.
A grand dinner had arrived, meaning she could at least sit while being displayed. Her dainty heels were hurting her feet – the family's stylist nearly had a fit when Mitsuru attempted to sneak out of the house with her favorite boots on, and all but tackled her in an effort to get her into something "more suitable for such a beautiful dress!" Said dress was much too constricting and heavy, surely weighing as much if not more than Mitsuru herself. Mitsuru's retort that she might as well show up to the party completely naked, since most of the men there would be undressing her with their eyes anyway, earned her an hour-long lecture about impropriety and the company she'd been keeping. It did sound like an Iori joke, come to think of it. She'd have to remember to tell him about it later.
As three separate attendants were forced to help Mitsuru settle into a chair without her dress riding up and rewarding the guests, she noticed the elder Shirogane standoffishly refuting another gentleman's comment and trying in vain to excuse himself. She had her attendants collect him as quickly as possible. Perhaps the evening won't be a total loss.
"You sure about this?" Akihiko Sanada sat in an unmarked car, fiddling with his ill-fitting hat.
"That's the third time you've asked me," Detective Kurosawa replied, "Our man on the inside is positive. Public Safety is planning a raid tonight." He watched his newest recruit carefully. "You think she'll be mad at you for crashing?"
Akihiko sighed. "Depending on the way things are going, she might be mad at me for not showing up sooner."
"Well," Kurosawa grumbled as he spotted an unguarded door, pulling a lock breaking kit out of the glove compartment, "tell her I said Happy Birthday."
This place is insane!
The utility room Akihiko snuck through might have been the only place he could afford to set foot in. Once he'd reached inlaid wood floors with carpet runners, he might as well have been on another planet altogether. He passed by the kitchens – four of them! – and just barely resisted stealing something off a golden tray. There was more food on the tables than he'd ever seen in his life, fruits and vegetables in every color of the rainbow, and shit he couldn't even identify. And most of it would just be thrown out after the party was over...while kids in the orphanage played cards for the last day-old bread roll.
A familiar feeling settled into Akihiko's stomach as he began to regret begging for this mission. This was the world Mitsuru had grown up in, a world more alien to him than Tartarus. It was easy to forget when she was running around in a catsuit, but she was raised to be a princess. She owned underwear that cost more than his first paycheck. But Mitsuru always insisted she'd rather hang around the dorm with him and Shinji than go to parties like these. She said they were boring, stifling, and people only talked to her because she was a Kirijo and had money. (Akihiko personally felt they also thought she was beautiful, but he was never able to tell her that.) He wanted to believe there was no difference between them, that she was watching them with as much envy as they had watching her, but old habits died hard.
"I'm telling you man," Shinjiro groused as they lounged around the spacious-to-them dorm that had just become their home, "More money than brains! Every last one of them!"
Akihiko shook his head. "Mitsuru's plenty smart, though. And besides, how could you even get that rich unless you had a brain in your head?"
"God, Aki, sometimes I think you were born yesterday." He gestured around the living room. "You think digs like this are free? They bought us, man! You don't have to lift a finger when you've got naive idiots who'll jump at the chance to lick the dirt off your boots, 'cause it's more than they gave us for breakfast at the orphanage. That's how you get to the top – on the backs of someone you've knocked over. We're scum to them. There's probably cameras in the john, making sure you don't steal anything while you're taking a piss, and you're dancing around like this is the best thing that's ever happened to you!" He slumped down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and earning a groan from his best friend. "If you think Kirijo's any different, you're fooling yourself."
"Then why don't you go back to sharing a broken bed with six other kids!" Akihiko raised his fist. This was such a common occurrence by this point that Shinjiro didn't even flinch. "You weren't even invited, anyway! I don't care how much money these people have, Shinji, that's just rude! They already think we're guttersnipes – you don't have to prove it to them!"
"Did you just-did you just say 'guttersnipes' !?" Shinjiro gaped. "What the fuck, Aki? Kirijo's already brainwashed you!"
He hadn't even realized he'd used a word he'd picked up during a meeting with Kirijo Group scientists about his..."Persona", they called it. Everyone spoke nicely to him, but their faces remained impassive, as if they couldn't believe some raggedy kid could do the same thing their well-groomed heiress could do. He must be a liar, a fake. He'd tried his best not to look around like a tourist, but he'd never seen so much white and chrome before. When the time came to summon his Persona, he didn't speak loud enough, and he forgot how to use the damn gun-thing. "Evoker" – everything had a fancy name. He'd ask to go the bathroom, but he was afraid that it was actually called the "relieving station" or something, and he'd be laughed out of the building, with Mitsuru refusing to even look at him.
Shinji had indeed brute-forced his way into Kirijo's patronage, but when he mentioned that "Dark Hour" (you'd think they'd have a snazzier name for that, too), they decided it was okay for him to come as well. Apparently, you only saw blood and coffins if you were special like Mitsuru. Akihiko was happy at first. He felt bad about leaving his best friend behind because an opportunity had opened up for him. But Shinji was just being a dick about everything. He wasn't just looking a gift horse in the mouth, he was looking up its ass, too!
"Look," Akihiko explained for what felt like the umpteenth time, "this thing we can do...I don't know anyone else who can do it except Mitsuru. We need her help, Shinji. She needs our help, too."
"Tch. I'm only sticking around to keep your ass out of trouble. Kirijo can take care of herself." Shinjiro stood up; his height was the only thing he had going against Akihiko. "We're not like her, Aki. We all have this power, sure – but that's the only thing we'll ever have in common."
Akihiko couldn't help but feel overwhelmed again as he finally reached the ballroom and was nearly blinded by all the gleaming items. WHY IS EVERYTHING GOLD?! Can you even eat with a gold-plated fork? He knew he had no business being here, but he'd happened to be at the Port Island police station when Kurosawa got a tip that Public Safety, already pissed at Mitsuru for eluding their grasp in Inaba, had planned to raid her birthday party and arrest as many people as they could for tax evasion and any other trumped-up charges they could make up on the spot. A birthday party. Bunch of assholes. Akihiko wasn't even officially on the squad yet, but there was no way he was letting Mitsuru get dragged into jail like a common criminal – or even an uncommon criminal. He was lucky that Kurosawa knew about the Shadow Operatives and had enough clout to put in a good word. Still, he was by himself, and that was potentially risky. Aigis would have been ideal right about now...but she wasn't any more cultured than he was, and didn't understand the concept of stealth. Labrys was even worse in that regard. He had about 45 minutes. All he had to do was convince Mitsuru to sneak away with him before Public Safety arrived. Piece of cake.
Akihiko smacked himself in the forehead for that one.
"I must say, Kirijo-san," Hiraku Shirogane raised a glass to his young hostess, "When I accepted your invitation, I certainly didn't expect your personal attention."
"My interest was piqued," Mitsuru replied. "After all, it's not every day that a legendary detective comes to your party. Let's just say...I was curious as to whether such sharp minds ran in the family."
"You've met my granddaughter."
"Indeed I have." The rare smile that Mitsuru reserved for trusted friends began to make its appearance. "In fact, I've been considering offering her a position after graduation."
Shirogane leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. "And in which department would this position be?"
The even rarer wide smile, one only a few living people bore witness to, now decorated Mitsuru's face. "Well. It seems my suspicions are confirmed." Finally, a worthy opponent. Happy Birthday to me.
Just as this decadent dinner began to redeem itself, several inebriated guests began raising their voices. Something about stolen property spurred the security detail into action, and for a brief moment, Mitsuru was left unattended. It was in that same moment that she felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly assaulted a uniformed officer in front of an alarmed Shirogane. How was an officer here that quickly? And why was Artemisia reacting?
"Hey," the officer said.
Wait...that voice... Mitsuru took another look at this new man and nearly lost her jaw on the ballroom floor.
"Akihiko?!"
It only took a few minutes for Akihiko to completely assess the situation. The room wasn't as wide as it was tall, and the tables were arranged in small circles at each corner. Mitsuru's table was at the bottom right, farthest from the doors so it would take a while for someone to break in and get to her...from that angle. If Akihiko'd had a gun, he could have picked her right off from the service entrance. Dumbasses.
Even in the midst of all this overabundance, he spotted Mitsuru right away, floating across the room in some ridiculous-ass dress. It was as if whoever dressed her just had to one-up anyone else wearing a dress tonight. She couldn't even bend or sit by herself. Oh, it was the perfect dress for a birthday party – she looked like a fucking cake!
…a delicious fucking cake. Akihiko couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Mitsuru in a dress, but...damn. She was too beautiful for words. They sat her by some older guy, and he watched as she SMILED at him, and it took Akihiko's breath away. Mitsuru had more charm in her little finger than he had in his whole body, and she was giving this man her undivided attention. It stung a little. He was irrationally jealous of some old guy who could buy and sell his ass. When the man looked at his watch, Akihiko finally remembered he had a job to do. Shit, 20 minutes!
Doubling back to a coat closet he'd seen earlier, Akihiko reached in and grabbed whatever gaudy shit first caught his eye; some coats, a jewel-encrusted handbag, and an ugly hat. He crept over to the kitchens and, when several chefs were looking away, turned a few of the burners up too high. Pots began boiling over and smoking, and frantic French filled the air as the chefs started panicking and running around. They didn't notice Akihiko stashing his loot in a nearby cabinet and hotfooting his way back to the ballroom. With the diversion in place, all he had to do was wait.
It worked like a charm. Some drunk old snobs had sent a servant to the closet, and when he returned empty-handed and apologetic, all hell broke loose. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN'T FIND MY WRAP?! I gave it to you specifically! Darling," the boozy woman grabbed the man next to her, "Darling, someone has made off with my wrap!"
"Good, it was hideous, anyway," the man slurred.
The woman gasped melodramatically like a character in a middle school play. "OH! How could you? That was my beloved grandmother's! WE ARE THROUGH!" She sobbed loudly and tried to hit the man, but she was so drunk that she fell on top of him, her dress ripping and exposing her underwear. As she flailed around, security rushed to separate the two of them, which meant everyone failed to notice Akihiko sneaking into the room.
He got up to Mitsuru's table and the plan screeched to a halt. What was he supposed to say to her? "I'm here to rescue you." She didn't even know there was any danger. "Come with me if you want to live!" Yeah, right – Mitsuru didn't watch gory action movies. "Surprise?" No shit! In the end, all he could think to do was get her attention and hope she'd catch on. No such luck; when he put his hand on her shoulder, he immediately felt the ice seeping through his glove as Mitsuru took a defensive stance. She doesn't recognize me. Akihiko knew he looked different in a full police uniform, but he didn't realize just how different wearing a shirt made him look. He had to choose his words carefully.
"Hey."
Brilliant, Aki! Dazzle her with those big, collegiate words!
By some miracle, though, it actually worked. Mitsuru just stared at him with a comical jaw-dropping, eye-popping expression on her face, like she'd just seen her dead father dressed as a geisha. "Akihiko?!"
The man at the table cleared his throat and broke the spell. The commotion was winding down, and time was running out. Akihiko bent down so only Mitsuru could hear him. "Public Safety's about to bust through the door. C'mon, we gotta go." He pulled her out of her chair before she could spend precious minutes pondering that statement and plotting a course of action.
"W-wait!" Mitsuru clutched his arm, her eyes wide as she tried to process everything. "Shirogane-san!"
Now it was Akihiko's turn to look shocked at Mitsuru of all people using an honorific. "What?"
"My dining companion," Mitsuru smirked. Thank God, she'd figured it out fast enough to start taking over.
"All, right, you too, then." Akihiko motioned to the guy, and he followed without a word.
They made it through the kitchens and were halfway through the utility room when sirens went off and doors were heard slamming open. "Great," muttered Akihiko, "this is gonna be tight."
Mitsuru just shrugged. "I could always smuggle the two of you out under this dress."
"Fortunately, your distraction bought some valuable time," Shirogane said calmly. He didn't seem perturbed at all by the fact that he'd just been pulled into a heist. "Perhaps our next move should be rendering Kirijo-san unrecognizable in order to facilitate our escape."
It took a minute for all the pieces to fall in to place, and then Akihiko finally caught on. "You're Naoto's grandfather," he realized.
Shirogane chuckled. "It appears she's been making quite an impression on the infamous Shadow Operatives." Okay, this old man was awesome. Well, who needs Aigis, then? Good score, Mitsuru!
"What if we put on the chef's coats, put Mitsuru on a rolling cart and make them think we're taking back the wrong cake?" It was a stupid idea, but Akihiko getting the ball rolling usually jump-started Mitsuru, so he voiced it anyway. Also, he just had to take a dig at it. "Plus, when we cut it open, a girl in her underwear will pop out."
"HEY!" Mitsuru's tone was scolding, but she didn't really look mad. In fact, she looked like she wanted to laugh.
"I just so happen to have a penknife here," Shirogane was saying, "We should at least remove the bottom half of the dress frame to give you a bit more mobility."
"THANK YOU!" sighed Mitsuru. She proved adept at cutting herself out of thousands of misspent yen. A huge, hoop-shaped frame came away with the bustled skirt, revealing – to Akihiko's dismay – Mitsuru's slip. "What I wouldn't give for a pair of pants right about now," she muttered.
Kurosawa was nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and wondering why he couldn't have transferred to Tokyo years ago when the utility door cracked open and three people crept out. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, but the sigh of relief when he saw Mitsuru took the sting out of his statement. He turned to glare at Shirogane. "Who's this guy?"
"The brains of this operation," answered Akihiko. "We gonna make it?"
"Only one way to find out: strap yourselves in!"
Akihiko made sure Mitsuru was hidden in the shadows in the back of the car before hopping in the front. He met her gaze in the rear-view mirror, and she raised her eyebrow at him. He smirked back. "I remembered your birthday."
"Can't imagine how you're going to top yourself next year," Mitsuru retorted.
(Sorry about the title. I couldn't decide which one I should use, so I used both.)
Naoto's grandpa doesn't seem to have a canon name, so I searched and found Hiraku, meaning "expand, open, support". He'd be very supportive of Naoto becoming a detective and dressing as a boy, and I'm sure he'd want her to expand her circle of friends. I think Mitsuru would respect a guy who didn't discriminate against women in male-dominated fields, and was well-read.
