He had just stepped into the lobby when he heard her motorcycle screech to a halt outside. The roar of the engine abruptly cut out.
"Akihiko!"
Mitsuru's voice was faint, but rapidly approaching. At the sound of it, Akihiko scowled at the ground and pointedly ignored her.
"Akihiko! Get back here!"
Ignoring her was only a temporary solution, of course, but whatever. He didn't owe her shit. Shinji would say the same thing if he were here.
Which he wasn't.
Setting his shoulders, he fastened the last buckle on his leather gauntlets and made a beeline for the stairs up into Tartarus.
"Akihiko Sanada, if you know what's good for you, you will stop where you are!"
No one would ever accuse Akihiko of knowing what was good for him, but that was a challenge if he'd ever heard one―and no one would ever accuse him of being one to back down from a challenge, either. Skidding to a stop, he pivoted on his heel and leveled Mitsuru with his fiercest, most stubborn glare.
Despite himself, he flinched at the sight of her storming in with sword in hand, her hair a flurry of crimson and her face incandescent with rage.
"Don't you dare take another step," she bellowed, slightly out of breath but not letting it impact her volume.
Akihiko bristled. "I wasn't asking for permission," he snapped right back, fists clenching at his sides. "You don't own me, Kirijo. I'm not one of your servants. Or did you forget?"
He had never accused her of viewing them as lackeys before―that was Shinji's jab of choice, and Aki had always thought it was a nonsensical one. Still, it always seemed to hurt her in a way few other insults did, and he wasn't in the mood to pull his punches right now. Whatever it took to get her off his back was fair game.
Unfortunately, he apparently didn't have the magic touch that Shinji had, because it rolled right off of her. "I own this building," she parried without missing a beat, still striding towards him, "and, right now, I want you off of my family's property."
"Oh, don't make me laugh," he sneered. "Tartarus isn't your 'property', it's a Shadow-infested hellhole! We don't even know why it exists, so how could it belong to your family? Did your family build it? Did your family fill it with monsters?"
Against all logic, that was somehow the thing that made her recoil, hesitating mid-step, her hand hovering uncertainly over her rapier.
Akihiko didn't look the gift-horse in the mouth. He whirled around and marched towards the stairs, tricking himself into thinking that the conversation was over.
Of course, it was a short-lived fantasy.
"Akihiko! If you climb that staircase, you will no longer be a recognized member of S.E.E.S. by the time you climb back down!"
Stopping where he stood, Akihiko barked out a harsh laugh. "What, didn't you get the memo?" he jeered, twisting back around to face her. "Membership is optional now, anyway!"
Dammit, he hadn't meant to say that―it was too revealing; cut too close to the heart of the issue. Too close to things he absolutely didn't want to talk about.
Mitsuru didn't call him on it, though. "Are you saying you're quitting?" she asked instead, her voice dangerously low.
He bit his cheek. Her threat to kick him out hadn't landed because he knew it was empty, not because he actually wanted to quit. "I'm saying," he replied evasively, "that you can't stop me from doing my job just because―"
―I'm all alone now.
"―just because Shinji bailed," he finished, stumbling only slightly over the last-minute swerve.
"This," Mitsuru said heatedly, pointing at the entrance, "is not your job. Your job is to protect innocent civilians from Shadows, not to charge into enemy territory without backup for no justifiable reason."
"You said yourself that something in Tartarus is probably causing the spread of Apathy Syndrome! How is that not a justifiable reason?!"
"Because we can't do anything about that, Akihiko, and you know it! Killing these Shadows doesn't do anything except cause more to appear! And I know you aren't stupid enough to think you can proceed further in the tower alone than you could with Shinjiro's help."
If Akihiko's slip of the tongue had veered uncomfortably close to the crux of the issue, then Mitsuru's response crashed directly into it like a semi-truck. Anger churned in his stomach, so hot and so violent that he nearly gagged on it and spat up fire.
"So what?" he ground out through clenched teeth. "If Tartarus isn't my mission anymore, then why do you get to decide whether or not I go?"
She glowered back. "Because you still have a job to do, even if it doesn't involve Tartarus anymore. You need to stay safe and avoid unnecessary risks if you want to be any help to the people of Port Island."
This time, Akihiko's laugh was closer to hysterical than mocking. "How the hell am I any help to the people of Port Island if I can't even handle Tartarus? If you think I'm so damn weak then why won't you let me get stronger?"
"It's too dangerous."
"I don't care! If I was afraid of danger, I would never have joined―"
"Don't be selfish!" Mitsuru cut in, temper flaring. "People could die without us, Akihiko! You know that now better than ever! We aren't allowed to just risk our lives on a reckless whim!"
The tacit acknowledgement of the underlying issue here―the whole reason Shinji had left in the first place―hit him like a knee in the gut. "I don't need to hear that from some pampered rich girl," he shot back immediately, well aware that it was a low blow.
"Apparently, you do!" Mitsuru began to advance yet again, her steps slow and deliberate. "Need I remind you that you've never been out in the field alone before―you've always had Shinjiro watching your back. If you think it'll be easy to climb the tower alone―"
Anything she said after that point was too little, too late. Akihiko was already seeing red. How dare she―how dare this outsider try to tell him about Shinji―she didn't even know him; not the way Aki did―
"Get off my back, dammit!" His fists were clenched so tight that the leather straps of his gauntlets dug into the meat of his palms, even though he was wearing his gloves beneath them. "Just because you're useless in a fight―"
Mitsuru's eyes went almost comically wide. "Excuse me?!"
"―doesn't mean I can't handle myself!" he continued as if he hadn't heard. "I don't care what he says or what you think―I don't need Shinji to babysit me!"
"Don't you?" Mitsuru demanded.
With a growl that could rival Shinji's, Akihiko lunged forward, yanked his Evoker out of its holster, and jammed it up against his forehead. He didn't pull the trigger, but the threat was clear―and, sure enough, across the room, Mitsuru froze in her tracks.
"Shut UP!" he roared, white-knuckling the Evoker as if it would try to escape from him. "Don't act like you know jack shit about us just 'cause you watch while we do all the work! We're the ones who always protect you so you can sit there and―and do your stupid scanning shit! So unless you think you can do Shinji's job, don't fucking stand there and preach to me about staying safe!"
Mitsuru stared at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. For once, she was silent as the grave.
A long, unbearably tense moment passed between them as they stared each other down. Though he kept the Evoker raised and the angry expression on his face, Akihiko's heart was pounding and his stomach was twisted into knots. He was no stranger to arguments that devolved into fights, but he'd never drawn his Evoker on another person before. Not even at his angriest. Not even at Shinji.
It felt different than just punching someone. Not in a good way. In a way that made him feel like a punk with a gun demanding some kid hand over their wallet. In a way that made his face burn with shame more than anger.
No wonder Mitsuru looked so shocked. Even Shinji wouldn't have expected Akihiko to sink that low. He would've been on Mitsuru's side.
If he had been here. Which he wasn't. So it didn't matter.
Gritting his teeth so hard that his entire jaw ached, Akihiko hastily shoved his Evoker back into its holster, palm clammy with sweat. "S'what I thought," he muttered halfheartedly over his shoulder, and he took off towards the entrance to Tartarus yet again.
Tartarus had been his destination from the start, so this didn't count as running away. And―and it wasn't like he was wrong. She was a hypocrite. He had every right to be pissed.
Even if he felt like shit about it.
His foot was on the first step when he heard Mitsuru growl behind him. It was probably the most inelegant sound he'd ever heard her make―even more so than that one high-pitched shriek she'd sworn him to secrecy about―and, somewhere beneath his budding guilt, it gave him a jolt of grim satisfaction to know that he'd gotten under her skin.
But Mitsuru didn't follow it up with an angry retort, or even a frustrated yell. Instead, the growl was followed by the report of an Evoker and a cry of "Penthesilea!" which he could sincerely say he couldn't have predicted in a million years.
There was no time to react. Completely blindsided, all Akihiko could do was flinch, his arms flying up to guard his face, as ice materialized around him, gluing his feet to the floor and shooting up in crystalline towers until he was entirely surrounded.
He'd been hit by Bufu before. Not often, since Shinji always prioritized taking out any Shadows that might go for Aki's weakness, but that was hardly a foolproof plan. Inevitably, he took a Bufu from time to time. It stung like a slap across the face, knocked him on his ass, and made him shake uncontrollably, cursing at the cold.
Definitely unpleasant, and an experience he preferred to avoid―but it was all part of the job. And, hey, he wasn't some glass-jawed lightweight. He could take a hit. He could bounce back.
Mitsuru's Bufu was in a different ballpark entirely.
It was stronger. So much stronger. It wasn't even really comparable. This wasn't a "shiver and curse" kind of cold, it was an all-consuming cold; a cold that instantly stopped all other thoughts in their tracks. A cold that made him gasp reflexively, which only sucked a gust of frigid air down his throat, chilling him from the inside out. A cold that froze his startled yelp to the roof of his mouth.
Polydeuces howled and recoiled violently, yanking on his psyche like a chained dog straining against its tether. His Persona's roar echoed throughout his skull.
Then the ice shattered. Or perhaps that was the wrong word. It didn't crack under pressure or anticlimactically fall apart; it exploded, flinging Akihiko off his feet like a ragdoll and showering him with shards of ice.
Only then did his tongue thaw enough to push out the cry stuck in his throat.
He hit the ground hard, landing first on his ass, then tipping flat on his back. Luckily, he'd only been one foot up on the stairs, so it wasn't too far of a fall, but his head still cracked painfully against the floor. The impact drove the breath from his lungs in a whoosh, strangling the latter half of his shout.
Compared to him, the ground was warm. That was the first thought that cracked the surface of his muddled brain. Beneath him, the rug-covered marble felt blissfully lukewarm, like an electric blanket that wasn't done heating up yet. He'd always wondered why Tartarus had carpeting when the rest of the architecture was so alien and uninviting―
Except that wasn't important right now, because he was under attack, and he needed to get back into the ring.
How long had it been? Ten seconds yet? No; only a moment. Akihiko forced a deep breath past his chattering teeth and tensed his core muscles, trying to roll forward into a crouch so he could get his feet back underneath him.
Halfway up, he shuddered so violently that he lost his momentum and collapsed right back onto the ground, dislodging some of the jagged slivers of ice that had showered over him. The rest of the shards clung to his uniform, melting fast without magic to keep them solid. Ice water trickled down the back of his neck.
He recalled, distantly, that his opponent was none other than Mitsuru, and that she could easily attack him again while he was dithering.
Cursing with his thick tongue, Akihiko tried again to rise. No way was he getting taken out in the first round; he was stronger than that―
"Stay down!" Mitsuru snarled, firing her Evoker once again.
Holy shit, was she out of her mind? Another attack or two like that, and he'd be down and out, for sure.
He hadn't pissed her off that badly… had he?
A ring of frost circled the ground around him, so apparently he had. In one last frantic attempt to escape, Akihiko jerked up and tried to brace himself on both hands, only for his gauntlets to land in puddles and slide frictionlessly out from beneath him, sending him sprawling yet again. He saw stars.
'Shinji will cover me,' he found himself thinking inanely, dazed and only half-present. 'Shinji will buy me some time to get back on my feet.'
But Shinji was out on his own somewhere, doing God knows what, which meant Akihiko was on his own, too.
Mitsuru's attack connected.
The Bufu rapidly closed in on him, creeping over his hands where they lay limp beside his head. His gauntlets and gloves mitigated the worst of the pain, keeping the ice from touching his skin directly, but it was still cold enough to make him hiss in pain―and Polydeuces reared back like a spooked horse.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Akihiko braced himself for the rest of the spell, holding his breath and tucking his chin to protect his throat from exploding splinters.
Apparently, that wasn't necessary. Having engulfed his hands, the ice crawled to a stop.
After a few moments, when the it yet to detonate itself and showed no signs of continuing to spread, Akihiko hesitantly peeled one eye open, then the other. It didn't seem like he was dead, and the Dark Hour hadn't ended, either. There went his only two guesses for why time had seemingly stopped.
As he lay there, disoriented and confused, the distinctive tap, tap, tap of Mitsuru's heels circled towards him. Her shadow fell across his face as she approached, and Akihiko squinted blearily up at her.
She was looming over him like a skyscraper, haloed by the sickly light that emanated from the ceiling. Her expression was thunderous, her Evoker was still poised against her temple. Behind her, Penthesilea loomed even higher, hand stretched towards him.
"Akihiko," she said, her voice icier than her magic, "we need to talk."
For a moment, Akihiko just blinked up at her uncomprehendingly. Talk? She was halfway through hitting him with a spell that could very well knock him out cold, and now she wanted to talk? What, did she also chuck axes at her business partners right outside of the conference room?
Then his head cleared, and Akihiko's stomach sank as he realized what she was doing.
Head snapping to the side, he tried to pull free of the ice which encased his hands. No dice. Both arms, from the tips of his fingers down to a little past his wrists, were solidly frozen to the floor, pinned on either side of his head. He could shift minutely from side to side, but any further movement of his arms or torso forced his shoulders to twist uncomfortably.
And, since Mitsuru wasn't finishing the spell, the ice wasn't going to explode and vanish. For as long as Penthesilea just floated there, keeping up a steady stream of magic without following through, the ice would remain.
She wasn't attacking him. She was tying him down.
With an indignant yell, Akihiko thrashed against the frigid shackles to no avail. "H-hey! M-Mit-tsuru!" he yelped, his teeth clacking together and his heels sliding across the ice in a vain attempt to gain leverage. "Wh-what the―h-h-h―hell!"
Her response was to kick him in the side, not hard enough to really hurt, but sharp enough to startle an oof out of him.
"If you won't hold still for long enough to have a rational conversation, then I'll have to hold you still myself," Mitsuru said, unrepentant. "Do not squirm. You'll only hurt yourself."
This, shockingly, did not dissuade him from squirming. Tensing every muscle in his trapped hands, he arched his back off of the ground, shoes still struggling to find traction on the ice, and wrenched his arms with all his strength. No matter how hard he tugged, though, it remained steadfast, as inescapable as concrete. He couldn't even budge a finger.
He slipped and fell down onto his back again with a pained grunt. Without giving him any time to collect himself, Mitsuru jerked her chin towards Penthesilea in some silent command, and the ice below Akihiko's feet surged up, cementing his legs in place as well.
"Sh- shit!" he cursed with some difficulty, reeling at the sting of the ice. Predictably, his attempts to twist his ankles free met with the same utter failure as his hands; they were firmly stuck.
"I warned you not to squirm," Mitsuru said pitilessly.
Akihiko bared his chattering teeth at her like a caged animal. "Y-y―you―!"
It was probably better for his health that he wasn't able to force an insult past his trembling lips, but his inability to speak properly was still unbearably frustrating. Hissing out a breath, Akihiko squeezed his eyes shut and tried one more time to wriggle free of his restraints.
The ice showed no signs of softening, bolstered by Penthesilea's magic. At the very least, the temperature of the air was slowly rising to a more tolerable level. By the time he exhausted himself, his labored breaths no longer bit at his throat on the way down.
At great length, he fell still―not giving in, but begrudgingly accepting that his blind thrashing wasn't getting him anywhere.
No sooner had he stopped struggling than Mitsuru kicked him lightly in the hip. "Open your eyes," she commanded. "Look at me."
Following orders from her right now felt like swallowing glass, but it also felt like a challenge, and Akihiko wasn't about to start backing down from those just because he'd lost the last one. Prying his eyes open, he glared furiously up at her, his face burning with humiliation. He had to crane his neck back all the way before he could meet her eyes.
"L-let m-me up," he demanded shakily, clinging to the last shreds of his pride, even though having to request his freedom was pathetic no matter how he phrased it.
"Absolutely not," she responded without hesitation. "You will listen quietly, and I will decide whether or not to release you based on your response."
Akihiko growled, straining against the shackles yet again. "I'm n-not l-listening to shit un-until you let me―"
Without warning, Mitsuru stepped forward and slammed her shoe down onto Akihiko's chest, leaning just enough of her weight onto him to stop his sentence short. His head fell back against the floor as he grunted, baring his neck.
She didn't give him time to correct that mistake. Instantly, the tip of her rapier pressed feather-light against the underside of his chin.
All of his limbs went perfectly still. Staring contest all but forgotten, he fixed his gaze on the sword, going slightly cross-eyed to keep it in sight.
"You will listen quietly," Mitsuru said. It wasn't a request, nor an order―it was a statement.
Akihiko kept his eyes on the sword at his throat and listened quietly.
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Mitsuru shifted her weight onto her back foot, allowing Akihiko to breathe normally again, though her shoe was still pressed lightly against his chest.
"Firstly." Her voice was like stone. "While you are free to voice your complaints at any time, you will never raise your Evoker against me, or again anyone else, ever again, unless you are fully prepared to face the consequences. It is a deadly weapon. It is not a vehicle with which to win an argument. Do you understand?"
Akihiko understood perfectly well. Even in the heat of the moment, a part of him had known that he'd gone too far the instant he felt the muzzle against his forehead and remembered how many Shadows he'd annihilated with it before―how many fatal injuries he could inflict with it.
Whether or not he was willing to admit that was the real question.
"You're one to t-talk," he eventually settled on, still watching her sword warily, and Mitsuru's lip curled.
"I am one to talk," she said, "though I will admit my own fault in this situation. I should have established this rule before giving you the Evoker. I had taken it as self-evident, which I was evidently wrong to do." He bristled at the jab, but she silenced his protests with a glare. "Nevertheless. Acknowledge the new rule―" Her rapier drifted down until it rested just above Akihiko's holster― "or I will consider you a danger to others and confiscate your Evoker until you can prove otherwise."
Akihiko's blood ran cold.
Confiscate his Evoker. Confiscate Polydeuces. His Persona; himself, in his truest form. Gone. Inaccessible. Just out of reach.
("A danger to others," his brain muttered, "just like Shinji.")
"I get it," he rasped, his mouth having gone desert-dry.
Either his sincerity or his panic must have shown on his face, because Mitsuru accepted his answer without further pressing. "Good." She nodded sharply, allowing her sword to return to a more neutral resting position.
When Akihiko ran his tongue across his teeth, trying to get a hold of himself, he found that they were no longer chattering. It was now no chillier than it would be if he stepped outside into the brisk October air, not counting the still-freezing patches of ice that encrusted his limbs. Whether it was because his answer had been satisfactory or simply because enough time had passed since the initial spell, it was hard to tell.
Either way, he took advantage of his reclaimed ability to speak. "I wouldn't have pulled the trigger," he muttered, staring at Mitsuru's empty holster rather than at her face. "You know that."
She examined him almost impassively.
"Do I?"
All at once, the anger buried beneath his fear resurfaced. "Yes, you do," Akihiko said sharply, his limbs twitching in their individual prisons. "Not that I can say the same of you."
Mitsuru's nostrils flared, and Akihiko winced, half-expecting her to lean more of her weight onto his chest or bring the sword back up to his throat. She did neither. In fact, she remained utterly, eerily still.
"Let's continue our conversation," she said at length, her voice glacial. "I have a question for you, Akihiko. Say your little stunt had succeeded, and I had let you go without a fight. What would have happened next?"
There couldn't possibly be a correct answer to that. Though she was no longer actively threatening him, Akihiko still eyed her warily, trying to gauge her expectations.
"It wasn't a trick question," she said. "Answer honestly."
Doubtful. Akihiko wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I would've gone up into Tartarus," he said tentatively, "and trained."
"Wrong."
He huffed out a sharp sigh through his nose. "You said it wasn't a trick question."
"It wasn't," she replied testily. "The obvious correct answer would be right in front of you if you weren't so blinded by your emotions."
He glared up at her, the anger in his chest boiling over yet again. "Well, go ahead, then―enlighten me," he sneered, jerking against the ice holding him down, just to make sure she didn't forget which one of them was 'blinded by their emotions' here. "What's the oh-so obvious answer that I―"
"You would have died."
Akihiko tripped over his words. She'd said it so dully, so matter-of-factly, that it caught him completely off-guard.
"You're being dramatic," he said, unsettled despite himself.
"Do you know what kind of Shadows are currently swarming the second floor of Tartarus?" Mitsuru didn't acknowledge his accusation at all, steamrolling right over his attempts to steer the conversation.
It was obvious where she was going with this. "Of course I don't," he said tersely. "But―"
"Cowardly Mayas," she interrupted, "as well as Magic Hands and a small cluster of Laughing Tables."
Akihiko cringed. He already knew that all of those Shadows used Bufu and none were weak to Zio, but even if he hadn't known, the expression on her face would've clued him in. For a moment, he just stared up at her, a lump forming in his throat. Beneath the ice, his fingers and wrists were beginning to ache from being both figuratively and literally frozen in place.
If he told Mitsuru that he was genuinely in pain, he had no doubts that she would release him. But he'd have to be in a lot more pain than this before he'd be willing to admit defeat like that.
"I," he said, and he swallowed thickly. "I'm… not an idiot."
As much as it pained him to admit it, it would have been too dangerous to stay on a floor swarming with ice-attribute enemies. But he would've known that without Mitsuru's intervention.
"I know when I'm out of my league," he said decisively, feeling slightly ashamed even though it was the honest truth and probably also the answer Mitsuru was looking for. "I wouldn't have just stood there and gotten myself killed. I would've run."
"How?"
Akihiko blinked up at her, nonplussed. "…What do you mean, how?"
"How would you have run?" Somehow, Mitsuru didn't look the least bit relieved by his answer. "The stairs would have already vanished behind you by the time you realized that you needed to flee."
Well, yeah, he knew that better than anyone. "I would look for an access point," he said slowly, trying to suss out her issue with his plan. Maybe she assumed he would try to reach the next floor instead of retreating? "I'd go up the stairs only as a last resort."
"How would you find the stairs or the access point?" she pressed, unmoved.
"I… I would… look around?" he tried. Judging by the expression on her face, that wasn't the correct answer.
At the last moment, it occurred to him that she was asking how he would find it without her guidance. A valid question, he had to admit; he and Shinji had lost contact with Mitsuru in Tartarus before, and it always led to them getting hopelessly turned around, sometimes followed by another disaster.
"I would keep one hand on the wall," he cut in quickly before she could respond to his previous, lackluster answer. "So I wouldn't get lost."
His actual plan hadn't accounted for Mitsuru's absence, but he was adaptable. He would've figured it out, even if she hadn't spurred him to think about it.
Mitsuru's eyes narrowed. She was gripping her sword more tightly now, and Akihiko kept glancing down at it to ensure it wasn't coming any closer. "How do you plan on defending yourself one-handed?"
What? She was the one who didn't want him to get into any fights. "I wouldn't," he said, starting to grow frustrated with her nitpicks. "I would avoid the Shadows entirely."
"If they're blocking your way, how will you move forward without fighting them?"
"I can outrun them. You know I can."
"What will you do when multiple groups of Shadows are all chasing you down at once?" she demanded. "What will you do when you're being chased by one Shadow and another one blocks the path ahead of you? Or when you turn the corner too quickly and run right into one? Or when you're completely surrounded? What then, Akihiko?"
"I―I would―" He floundered a bit under the sudden onslaught of questions. "I wouldn't let it get that bad. I'd have to think on my feet―stop and fight when necessary so that I could keep moving without getting overwhelmed."
Mitsuru sneered, leaning forward until she was once again bearing her weight down on Akihiko's chest, just slightly, as if she were a hunter posing with her felled prey. "How do you expect to do all that when you can't even handle a useless, pampered rich girl?"
A mix of aggravation and shame dyed Akihiko's face a splotchy red. "Don't act like that was a fair fight," he said hotly. "You attacked me from behind."
"Right, of course. And, as we all know, Shadows never attack humans from behind. They only engage in fair, officially-sanctioned fights."
"I'm n-not stupid!" Akihiko snapped, trying to lunge up only to be immediately stopped short. Evidently, the fluctuating temperature was linked to her mood more than her magic usage, because he was beginning to shiver again. "I w-wouldn't let them sneak up on me! I'd stop them f-from getting behind―"
"How?!" Mitsuru snarled, a piece of her stony facade crumbling away to reveal pure, unbridled fury. "How would you know if they were sneaking up on you? How would you stop them if they were? How would you know which ones to stop and fight, and which ones to ignore? Do you really think you would be able to just run through? It's not that simple, Akihiko!"
"I kn… I know that," he growled.
"You obviously don't!" Mitsuru stabbed her rapier emphatically towards his chest, not stopping her hand until the tip of the sword was perilously close to touching him. "Don't delude yourself into thinking you know Tartarus better than I do, Sanada. Between the two of us, you are the inexperienced one―which isn't a problem as long as you listen when I talk!" She glared down at him. "Or do you refuse to acknowledge my experience simply because I'm not currently on the front lines?"
Akihiko exhaled sharply through his nose. He'd mostly been trying to get under her skin with his earlier comments, but he and Shinji had both genuinely thought that her Persona was optimized for navigation, not combat. Sure, she'd taken out a Shadow or two in emergencies, but never anything more threatening than a Merciless Maya or Muttering Tiara, so they'd written her off as a weak point in their formation.
He'd have to tell Shinji that they'd gotten it wrong.
But Shinji wasn't here, he remembered abruptly, and the reminder was like a poker in the coals of his cooling anger.
"What d-do you want, a m-medal?" he jeered, cruelly pleased to see her shoulders rise defensively. "For wh-what, hiding d-down here like a c-coward? If you're so s-strong, then why aren't you th-the one going i-into Tar―?"
Mitsuru jerked her foot up and slammed it down on the floor with a deafening crash that echoed throughout the lobby.
"Because YOU NEED ME!"
Akihiko spasmed in the icy shackles, his every instinct screaming at him to get away from her. For a moment, he was genuinely stunned speechless, staring up at her with wide, incredulous eyes.
"…That's what this is ab-bout?!"
For once, she didn't have a snappy rejoinder ready to go. She remained damningly, deafeningly silent, staring down at him with an expression he couldn't quite parse. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole face pinched, and she turned and stepped away, hiding the rest of her reaction behind the impenetrable wall of her back.
Despite himself, Akihiko laughed. Not a joyful laugh, obviously―more of a disbelieving one.
She was just mad that he was ignoring her. All this arguing, all this drama―all these drastic measures―over what was essentially a hissy fit. That couldn't actually be it, could it? He had to be missing something. Because―holy shit. All this? Over a temper tantrum?
It really, really wasn't funny.
Setting his jaw, Akihiko glared holes into Mitsuru's back. "L-let me up. Now."
"No," Mitsuru said through her teeth. Though her voice was back to its usual stoicism, she was clearly still pissed, because she was breathing heavily like she'd just run a marathon, her shoulders heaving with each inhale. "You're a danger to yourself right now. I can't in good conscience let you go."
Akihiko fumed. "You c-can't just k-keep me prisoner here!" he snarled, thrashing against the icy restraints in earnest.
"I can and I will if that's what it takes to keep you alive!" Mitsuru practically screamed, her voice cracking on the last word.
Oh, please. He opened his mouth to mock her―to tell her that she was being ridiculous; that she was abusing her power―but then Mitsuru's whole body jerked, and she took a deep, shuddering breath―
―and fell to her knees.
It was unexpected enough to make Akihiko completely forget what he'd been about to say. Instead, he just stared at Mitsuru's hunched shoulders, speechless for the third time in as many minutes.
After a moment, he realized that she wasn't kneeling at all―she'd just abruptly crouched down low to sit on her heels. It was hard to tell; her hair spilled over her bowed back in a crimson curtain, nearly touching the floor now, and her long skirt pooled around her, making her whole silhouette nearly shapeless.
The tip of her rapier was pressed into the carpet like a cane, keeping her balanced, and her dominant hand was white-knuckled on its hilt. Her other hand still gripped her Evoker, much more loosely than before.
Akihiko couldn't see her face at all, but she was hanging her head, which was uncharacteristic and highly alarming.
"…M… Mit-tsuru?" he stuttered, his tongue catching between his teeth.
She didn't respond. All she did was breathe, shaky and loud in the otherwise silent lobby. In. Out. In. Out.
In. Her shoulders squared as she gathered herself. "Think of me how you will," she said. Out. In. "Whether I am a coward or not." Out. In. "Whether you understand why or not." Out. In. "You need me to 'hide down here'."
Out, shakily. Her hand spasmed on the Evoker, and, for a moment, he thought she was about to jerk it to her head and finally finish her attack.
But she didn't. Instead, it slipped out of her fingers and clattered carelessly to the ground. As Akihiko watched, aghast, she raised her hand to her face, pressing it against her eyes.
There was no sound. It wasn't even a particularly loud exhale. Nevertheless, her shoulders heaved with what was unmistakably a sob.
Every other thought in Akihiko's brain screeched to a halt. There was still anger and resentment and frustration swirling in his gut, but she was crying, and the instinct for that was hardwired in, no matter how many years it had been since he lost Miki.
"M-Mitsuru―" He jerked against the restraints again, not in an attempt to escape this time, but a brother's reflexive urge to wrap his arms around her.
Of course, the ice thwarted him. This was probably to his own benefit, since he doubted Mitsuru would welcome a hug from him right now (or ever, really), but it left him feeling jittery and restless, his stomach twisting with the need to do something. He wet his lips. "C-come on, don't c-cry―"
"I don't have a choice," Mitsuru said suddenly, her voice thick with scarcely-contained emotion, and Akihiko flinched. "You need me. I can't go with you. It's not about cowardice. I can't go with you because you need me down here, even if Penthesilea can barely do anything, because that's better than nothing, and―"
Her breath hitched, and she cut herself off, letting her hand fall from her face. She spent another moment just breathing, then rallied herself.
"Not all of us have the luxury of doing the job which suits us best," she said firmly, and then she sniffled, clearly trying to disguise it as a frustrated huff. "I can't go into Tartarus because you couldn't survive in there without a dedicated navigator. Even I barely made it out alive, and I had Penthesilea. You don't understand how difficult it is because you've never tried, and you can't try because it's too dangerous, so you just have to trust me, and… I…" She trailed off.
Akihiko stared at her, dismayed. When had she gone into Tartarus alone? When had she gone into Tartarus alone and barely made it out alive? "M-Mitsuru―"
"I refuse to let you die!" she interrupted fiercely, and then she snatched her Evoker back up, shoved herself to her feet, and strode away, giving up all pretenses of continuing the conversation.
Unable to do anything but watch her go, Akihiko tugged one more time against the ice, but his heart wasn't in it. Letting out a long, shaky breath, he let his head fall back against the ground. It hit the carpet with a soft thump.
Mitsuru stopped a few paces away from him and stared at the wall, trying to collect herself. She couldn't seem to stop tugging fretfully on the disheveled locks of her hair.
Unbidden, a memory rose to his mind.
The whole reason they stayed on the first three floors of Tartarus whenever possible was that Penthesilea's vision struggled to reach the fourth floor without short-circuiting Mitsuru's equipment. A fact that they'd discovered the hard way, when Shinji and Aki ventured too far and Mitsuru's voice abruptly cut out mid-battle.
They'd gotten completely lost, wandering around in circles in search of an exit they'd already passed, being progressively beaten down by Shadows whose weaknesses they couldn't exploit. Then a hideously strong Shadow had begun to chase them down, heralded by a chill in the air and the rattling of chains.
The Reaper, Mitsuru called it nowadays. Death.
In the end, they'd been cornered, cowering against the wall and clinging to each other as it floated towards them. He wasn't even ashamed to admit it. Coming face to face with Death was an experience so terrifying that no human could possibly be expected to endure it stoically.
He couldn't speak for Shinji, but Aki, at least, had never been so certain that he was going to die.
And they probably would have―if Mitsuru hadn't rounded the corner, covered in bruises, gasping for breath, and screaming bloody murder.
It had grabbed their attention, but not just theirs. As they stared at her, dumbfounded, the Reaper had stopped in its tracks and slowly begun to turn towards her―giving Shinji the time he needed to snap out of it and start running, yanking Aki along behind him.
They'd taken off after Mitsuru like feral dogs, Death nipping at all three of their heels now―and, somehow, miraculously, she had managed to lead all three of them to the access point alive.
The euphoria of being alive had been so overwhelming that it left room for nothing else. So, when Mitsuru rambled her way through an apology for losing track of them, yanking at her unkempt hair all the way, he and Shinji had both just laughed breathlessly and told her not to sweat it. After all, she'd come for them, in the end, hadn't she?
It was a memory that he would probably never forget―at the very least, it had been persistent in his nightmares ever since―but, now, with the newfound understanding that Mitsuru was a fighter as well, Akihiko found himself viewing it in a different light.
In his mind, Mitsuru was always far away from danger, up until the very moment he laid eyes on her. The time in between her being safe in the lobby and right there at his side didn't exist; she may as well have simply teleported. Even when she was battered and exhausted, his mind didn't conjure up images of her fighting gallantly―to him, they had just been signs that she was softer than him; more pampered. That she couldn't even handle her job, let alone his.
When she came running to his rescue, he only saw the end result―all three of them collapsed together in the lobby, panting for breath and drenched in cold sweat.
He didn't see her abandoning her equipment and booking it to their location. All the way up the tower. Through hordes of Shadows.
Alone.
It's not that simple, Akihiko.
Akihiko stared helplessly up at the ceiling. Goddammit, now his own eyes were wet, and he couldn't even scrub his sleeve across his face to get rid of the tears. All he could do was blink rapidly to keep them from falling. Tiny drops of saltwater crystallized on the ends of his eyelashes, like the twisted inverse of a snowflake melting on his tongue.
"Th-this wasn't supposed to h-happen," he croaked to no one in particular.
They were supposed to stick together―Aki and Shinji, Shinji and Aki. Them against the world. No matter what.
Then there had been Mitsuru, with her earth-shattering revelations and all the responsibilities that came with them. They'd struggled to find their new equilibrium in a new and frightening reality, but they were still together. It would take more than that to tear them apart, after all. It was still Aki and Shinji, against the world―even if the world was more vast than they'd ever known, and filled with things they couldn't quite understand.
And then there had been―well, Mitsuru again, not with apocalyptic news, but with an olive branch; an offer of friendship. Camaraderie. They'd clashed at first, still trying to find their own footing and struggling to reconcile their differences in both background and attitude, but, in the end, it just… clicked.
Cautious, mature Mitsuru, who could navigate the adult and supernatural worlds with practiced ease and never hesitated to take the reigns; cynical, sensible Shinji, who had the street smarts she lacked and always knew when to push back against her decisions; headstrong, adventurous Aki, who spurred them to action when they hesitated and dragged them out of their heads when they started to overthink.
Aki and Shinji, Shinji and Aki, and now, Mitsuru. Three strong against the world―literally, some nights. Maybe it wasn't forever―maybe it was just until they put the Dark Hour back to rights, and then they would part ways―but, until then, they had each other's backs. No matter what.
But Shinji hadn't held up his end of the deal, and he refused to let Aki honor his own promise. And Aki had been prepared to let go of Mitsuru eventually―let her go back to the world of inherited land and business negotiations and corporate ruthlessness―but he'd never in a million years expected Shinji to be the one to go.
"I sh… should've… been there f-for him," he murmured, unsure whether he even wanted to be heard.
Then, even quieter: "I don't.. I don't kn-know if I can do this alone."
Whether she heard him or not, Mitsuru didn't respond to his mutterings, which was a relief, because he already knew her opinion on the latter subject, and the former was a conversation he was barely ready to even entertain the idea of, much less actually hold. Much less while he was still this pissed off at Mitsuru, at Shinji, and at himself most of all.
It was supposed to be Aki and Shinji, and maybe Mitsuru. Not Aki and Mitsuru and an empty dorm room and the ghosts of the people they couldn't save.
And now here he was, ruining what little he had left with his own egotism.
As if he was the only one who Shinji had left behind.
Blinking away the last of his own tears, Akihiko looked listlessly up at the ceiling. Without the tightly-wound anger burning in his gut, he felt numb; almost hollowed out. Like an empty lighter.
One thing was for sure. He couldn't just lay here feeling sorry for himself forever.
"Mitsuru," he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He swallowed thickly and tried again, a little louder. "Mitsuru. Th-this is, uh. This is r-really starting to hurt."
No sooner had he spoken than the ice around his wrists cracked audibly and crumbled apart, sliding off of his gloves like water off a duck's back. The shackles around his ankles were similarly quick to break away, freeing him. Above him, Penthesilea faded away into sparks of light.
He spent a moment just stretching, wiggling each individual finger and toe to make sure he had his full range of motion back. Almost unconsciously, he started checking his hands for fractures or sprains as if he'd just gotten out of the ring. Nothing worse than a mild twinge in his wrists, of course; even at her angriest, he doubted Mitsuru would risk that kind of permanent damage.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, he glanced over at her. She was standing across the lobby, back facing him, most likely still composing herself. She must have heard him shifting, though, because she cleared her throat and asked, "Do you need healing?" without turning around.
Back to business, then. "I… c-could use some," he replied, rubbing some feeling back into his arms. He'd already essentially admitted defeat, so it wasn't like he had his reputation to think about.
Immediately, Mitsuru raised her Evoker and summoned Penthesilea. Maybe he should have flinched away, given what his last interaction with her Persona had been like, but Akihiko just found himself relaxing as the Dia showered over him, easing the ache in his extremities and calming the shudders that ran through his shoulders.
Reinvigorated, he clambered to his feet, avoiding the jagged shards of ice and half-melted puddles that had taken him back down earlier. Then, rolling his neck and brushing frozen splinters from his pants, he turned towards Mitsuru.
Having holstered both her weapons, she'd crossed her arms tightly and was now motionless once again. Every inch of her silhouette screamed "leave me alone".
Well, too bad for her.
As he limped toward her, Mitsuru stared down at the ground, taking deep, measured breaths. He was halfway there when she inhaled sharply through her nose, squared her shoulders, and turned on her heel. Her eyes were a bit red, a bit swollen, but she otherwise managed to completely school her expression into something resembling sternness.
"Don't think for a second," she said, "that this conversation is ov―"
He hugged her.
It wasn't a fierce or tight hug; nothing like the way he'd hug Miki or Shinji. Or anyone else, really. He just wrapped his arms loosely around her back and pressed himself into her shoulder, holding her close without trying to force her to lean into him.
That had been a good call. At the first brush of his arm against her shoulders, Mitsuru went utterly rigid, eyes widening as if he'd just threatened her life again. No surprise there. He paused for a moment, trying to give her a chance to pull away; when she didn't, he gingerly patted her back.
Mitsuru stared past him, unmoving. Her every muscle was tightrope-tense. "Akihiko," she said stiffly. "What are you doing."
Wasn't it obvious? Akihiko huffed out a soft laugh.
"I get it," he said.
"…Excuse me?"
Exhaling slowly through his nose, Akihiko tightened his grip just slightly, emboldened by her lack of resistance. If she wanted him off of her, she would have no qualms saying so.
"I get it," he repeated.
He did get it, now. Don't get him wrong; he still wanted to storm up the stairs into Tartarus, despite everything―he still felt like he had to do something; he still couldn't stand the idea of being rendered useless without Shinji―but… he got it.
"I won't go," he muttered. Though he was being completely sincere, he couldn't bring himself to even attempt to meet her eyes. "I promise I won't go until Shinji's back."
I won't leave you alone.
In response to this, Mitsuru swallowed, then closed her eyes. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thought she was going to start crying again, but all she did was take a steadying breath and then open them again, her face still unreadable.
"Thank you," she said quietly, leaning an almost imperceptible amount of her weight into his chest, though she still made no move to reciprocate the hug. "I… understand that it will be hard on you."
Knowing for the first time that she really did understand―that she probably felt the exact same way―he was able to smile genuinely, if weakly. "Somehow, I'll survive."
He lingered for a moment longer, comforted more than he'd like to admit by the minuscule pressure of her shoulder digging into his collarbone. Then he gave her one last squeeze and retreated back out of her space. That had gone better than expected. It wasn't the most awkward hug he'd ever initiated, at least.
To be fair, the competition there was pretty stiff.
For a moment after they split apart, they both just hovered, unsure where to go from here. This was probably the time to spill his guts about the whole thing, if he was ever going to, but the glaring absence of Shinji was staring him down with judgmental eyes, and he'd never been great with words, anyway.
So Akihiko just scratched the back of his neck and muttered, "Sorry. For pulling my Evoker on you." That had been crossing the line, and he knew it.
"What, only for that?" Mitsuru shot back immediately, leveling him with an exasperated look, but there was little anger in her tone.
He snorted. "Well, I think you already got me back for everything else," he replied, gesturing vaguely to his frost-encrusted clothing.
"Oh, please," she said, and he grinned at her cheekily. For a brief instant, it was like the argument hadn't happened at all.
But Shinji missed his cue to jump in with a snarky remark of his own, and the banter withered between them before it could really get off the ground. They both floundered for a second, feeling his absence more acutely than each other's presence.
"I… also apologize," Mitsuru said slowly after a moment, sounding like she would rather be saying almost anything else. "I lost my temper and… allowed myself to be overly… rough with…" She cleared her throat. "Well, in any case, freezing you to the ground was unwarranted. As were some of my harsher comments."
Her expression was strained and she couldn't look him in the eye, but he couldn't tell if it was because she was sincerely guilty or because she was lying through her teeth about it.
Either way, he honestly didn't care. "I mean, I was kinda asking for it," he replied, shrugging off her worries. Not like he and Shinji hadn't let their brawls get out of control before, and they never felt the need to apologize. Not with words, at least. Shinji was more of an "actions" kind of guy.
But maybe his relationship with Shinji wasn't a great blueprint. Since it apparently hadn't been strong enough to keep Shinji at his side, even though they'd promised.
Wincing, Akihiko averted his eyes as well. "What I mean to say is… apology accepted. And, uh… I didn't mean what I said, either."
Well, he'd kind of meant it―some of it―but only in the heat of the moment. At the very least, he regretted having meant it.
"I'm not so sure about that," Mitsuru said dubiously, "but… we both spoke in anger. Your apology is also accepted. Provided you reflect on your actions."
"Thanks," he said a little dryly.
She huffed out what might have been a chuckle on a better night. "You're welcome."
In the silence that followed, Akihiko stared up at the stairs to Tartarus almost wistfully. Never in his life would he have guessed that he'd miss this hellhole one day.
He sighed. "End of an era, huh?"
"I'd hardly call it an end," Mitsuru said, rolling her eyes. "Until Shinjiro returns, we're both barred from Tartarus, but there will still be rogue Shadows in the city, as always. I'll work on Penthesilea's abilities until I can finally scan outside of Tartarus, and you can patrol solo in the meantime, if you wish."
Akihiko blinked. "Really?" That was more freedom than he'd been expecting―especially with Shinji's… accident still fresh in both their minds.
"Well, we can't very well neglect the city, and it's not as if I'll always be able to go with you," Mitsuru said, her brow furrowing. "As long as you let me know before leaving and take a radio with you, I won't mind. Just…"
She hesitated, sizing him up as if to gauge whether he could handle her next remark. He tried to look stable and open to criticism.
With a heavy sigh, she brushed her bangs behind her ear. "…Just be careful," she finished, almost gently. "And don't hesitate to radio for help if you need it. Penthesilea may not be able to scan outside of Tartarus, but I assure you that I can fight perfectly well, inside the tower or out."
Before tonight, he might have scoffed at that, automatically discarding the idea of turning to her for backup in combat. Now, with a newfound respect for her power, he found himself almost excited at the concept of fighting by her side. The easy synergy he had with Shinjiro would be hard to replicate, but he was eager to see how she handled herself in an actual brawl.
As he fantasized, Mitsuru tapped her chin thoughtfully, staring off into the distance. "Though that brings into question how I'll be able to come to your aid," she muttered. "I have my bike, of course, but until Penthesilea can scan outside of Tartarus, I have no way of locating you. Perhaps I can ask Ikutsuki-san to install GPS transponders in the radios? Although―"
"We can work out the details later," Akihiko said, holding up both hands to stave off a wave of ideas. "For now… I dunno about you, but I'm ready to lay down."
Sympathy softened Mitsuru's face. "Right," she said. "Of course. Let's go home."
They walked out together in silence. This was probably the least physically exhausted Akihiko had ever been on the way out of Tartarus, but the mental exhaustion more than made up for it. He found himself dragging his feet, lagging behind as Mitsuru strode towards her bike. As soon as the chilly October air hit him, he shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.
As they approached the motorcycle, Mitsuru suddenly stopped and twisted back around.
"One last thing." She stepped closer and glared directly into Akihiko's eyes. There was no longer even a hint of concern hiding beneath her anger. "I haven't forgotten your opinion of my fighting prowess, Sanada. Perhaps a rematch would ease your worries about my ability to defend myself? Only a friendly spar, of course."
Akihiko blanched. Shit. Was "no" a valid answer? Maybe with a "please" tacked on? She hadn't been holding back earlier, had she? It wasn't going to be worse next time, was it?
Would getting the first hit in give him time to run?
Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Mitsuru's anger dissolved into a long-suffering eye-roll. "Just get warmed up, Akihiko," she sighed, and then she reached into the storage container on her motorcycle and pulled out his winter coat and scarf, which seemed to have been hastily crammed in with the scanning equipment and medical supplies.
Akihiko watched her shake them out with sudden understanding. They'd definitely been hanging up in the dorm when he left. Should he feel touched that she'd thought to bring them, or terrified by the possibility that she'd been fully intending to freeze him solid, even before he brought it on himself?
Both, maybe.
She held the jacket out in front of her, spread open invitingly, and he sheepishly shrugged into it, letting her tug it over his stiff shoulders. At that point, his pride was basically in shambles anyway, so there was no reason to stop her from wrapping the scarf around his neck as well.
"Idiot," she grumbled as she straightened the ends of the scarf. "Forgetting your coat so close to winter―it's like you want to get sick."
He couldn't bring himself to tell her that she sounded like Shinji, but he could at least muster up a smile.
"You're one to talk, Miss Summer-Uniform-All-Year-Round."
"I don't have a Persona who's weak to the cold."
"And yet I'm the one who got frozen to the ground. And so close to winter, too."
"We both agreed that you were asking for it."
"Excuses, excuses. Perhaps Kirijo-sama isn't ready to take responsibility for her acti―ow!"
"Shut up and get on the bike, Sanada. Before I change my mind."
He shut up and got on the bike.