—Chapter 6—Friday, April 29th, Nighttime—

Makoto laid on the couch for a long time. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help but overhear Naomi and Jiro as they played video games together. They had started playing well before Makoto went to bed, and she'd been listening to them for over an hour already. She couldn't sleep. Her brain was too active with worry: Worry about what Tetsuo was going to do, worry about Ren, worry about his neck, worry about school, worry about her house, worry about imposing on her friends… And then there was her personal to-do list of things that were still hanging over her head—all aside from her responsibilities as a student.

Finally, Naomi and Jiro sounded like they might be quitting their games for the night. She waited to see if Jiro would be leaving, or what. The light creeping under Naomi's door got dimmer, but did not go out—they weren't playing games anymore, but they weren't going to sleep either.

Now Makoto was beginning to feel like a genuine voyeur. She pressed a couch cushion over her face, but just knowing what was happening in the other room made it impossible to ignore. Sighing, Makoto reached for her phone. Are you awake?

A few seconds later: Yeah. Trying to study, but making very slow progress… Did you find someplace to crash?

Yeah, I'm with Emiko and Naomi
Jiro is here… :/

Yeah, I knew he was headed there
What are they doing…?

What do you think?

…
Playing Soul Calibur? Or wait, she has a PS5…
Soul Calibur 8?
How many Soul Caliburs are there? I'm not on that Reddit thread…

They're not playing video games anymore…

Oh
¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Very funny

Makoto stared at her phone, waiting to see if he would reply. It didn't look like he was going to, so she punched out another text, but hesitated before hitting send. Oh, what the hell, she thought, and sent it anyway: Can I come over?

It's that bad, huh?
Sure
You can crash in Jiro's bunk
…since I guess he's not using it

Goody

Are the shuttles still running?
You shouldn't walk here alone in the dark

The shuttles don't stop running until 11
I've got time

Text me along the way so I know you're safe, please

Sure
I'll leave in just a minute

K

Makoto sat up and switched on the light next to the couch. She had already changed into her nightclothes, but she took them off and changed back into what she'd been wearing earlier. She crammed her nightclothes into her purse and slipped on her shoes. She didn't bother grabbing anything else.

She left a note for her friends so they wouldn't worry if they found her missing. She didn't have a house key, so she unlocked one of the kitchen windows, figuring that if push came to shove she would just climb back in through there. She didn't feel right about leaving the front door unlocked when there was apparently a knife-wielding maniac still to be caught. Turning out the light, she opened the door and turned the button lock before pulling it shut.

Night had fully descended, but the air was warm enough that she didn't need her coat. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she walked briskly in the direction of the shuttle stop.

Omw, she texted Ren.

K, thanks

The stop was only a couple blocks away, so Makoto was there in just a few minutes' time. The stops had lit, covered seating areas, so she sat down inside and pulled out her phone: Waiting at the stop

Good

Shuttles usually came every fifteen to twenty minutes, so unless she had just missed one, it should be faster to wait for a shuttle than it would be to just walk straight there. That said, she didn't know how long she would be waiting, sitting there.

What are you studying?

Criminal law
Rights of the accused, mainly

Pop quiz:
What are those rights?

Protection from self-incrimination, forced confession, and unrestricted admission of hearsay

And…?

The right to counsel, a public trial, and cross-examination. Depending on the seriousness of the crime, the trial may or may not be a jury trial

Very good. Top marks

I understand a little better why our prosecution success rate is so high. It's not quite as bad as I thought, but still sort of ridiculous…

The 99%?

Yeah

Yeah, most cases don't go to trial
They pretty much don't prosecute unless the case is both serious AND a slam dunk
So if there's another way to resolve a case besides going to court, they almost always try to do that first

Yeah
Makes me feel a *little* better
Though still pretty pissed that I had to go to court even considering all that
And ended up among the 99%

Well, you were clearly a danger to society

S'right
Imma cut a bitch

Makoto laughed out loud, lifting her head from her phone to look around. She'd forgotten that she needed to be at least a little bit vigilant. Her eyes scanned the street, but it was hard to see anything. Her eyes were accustomed to the glow of her phone, and the light of the shuttle stop. The street lights were too far apart to give her a good view of all the parked cars, but she thought she saw three of them. She only remembered seeing two before sitting down.

You there? texted Ren.

Yeah, still here, she said.
I just realized I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings…

Anything weird?

Probably nothing
Makoto saw the flash of headlights in the distance. Shuttle's here, she said.

Good
It'll take you right to my door

Okay, see you soon

K, bye for now

The shuttle pulled up to the stop and the doors opened. Makoto flashed her student I.D. at the driver, who nodded and closed the doors behind her. Makoto took the seat right behind the driver, and the shuttle pulled away from the stop.

In the distance, another pair of headlights ignited, and a shadow advanced.

—

Pulling up now

Great
Just come on up
Room 16

The doors to the shuttle opened, and Makoto stepped onto the street and up the walkway leading into the dormitory. Inside, a young man at the front desk greeted her. "Good evening," said the man. "You're a guest?"

"Yes," Makoto answered. "Can I go up?"

"Are you a student?"

"Yes."

"Great, then I can just scan your I.D. card and enter you into the system as a registered guest. Then you can come and go without a personal escort."

Makoto handed over her I.D. and watched as the young man scanned it.

"And who is the resident you're here to see?" he asked.

"Ren Amamiya, room sixteen," answered Makoto.

"Terrific, I've added you to his account. You can continue upstairs." He handed back Makoto's I.D.

Makoto thanked the R.A. and headed for the elevator. Moments later, the doors opened onto a well-lit floor. It looked like there were parties happening in several of the rooms—or perhaps "small gatherings with some alcohol involved" was a more accurate description. Makoto turned left down the hall and headed for Ren's room. He'd left the door open.

"Knock knock," she said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Ren had been studying at his desk, but upon her arrival, dropped his pencil into the middle of the book and closed it, standing up to greet her. "Glad you made it safely," he said. "Anything to report?"

She finished closing the door, hung her purse on the hook there, and turned to really look at him. Seeing his face, she nearly did a double take. "Whoa! Those are some glasses…" she said, taking it all in.

"Yeah, sorry, these are an old pair. They're pretty Buddy Holly, I know…"

"They're not bad," she hastily reassured him. "Just… different. I'm not used to them, that's all."

"I'll take them off," he said, pulling them off and tossing them cavalierly onto his desk.

"I don't dislike you in glasses, you know," she said. "I only asked you to take them off at the party because I couldn't tell if you were looking at me or not."

"Would that have been so terrible? Me looking at you?" he asked, just trying to be conversational.

"No, it's not that," she said. "It's just… I would look at you, and think you were looking at me, but because of the glare, I couldn't tell, and so I kept staring, but I didn't want you to see me looking at you and think I was staring—I was just looking to see if you were looking…" Makoto was fully rambling, and she knew it. "And yeah," she said, eating the last of her word salad.

"Well," he said, leaning back against his desk, half sitting on it, "if you must know, I was looking. We were talking about you," he said.

"You and Emiko? And what were you saying about me?" she asked. There was just a hint of coyness there.

"I was curious…" he started slowly, tentatively, "what led you to going out with someone like Tetsuo."

Makoto bit her lip, and leaned back into the wardrobe on the wall behind her. "And I'm very curious how Emiko would have answered that question," she said.

"She said…" he crossed his arms casually in front of him. "She said he was the first guy not to be frightened off by everything you could do."

"Ah," she said, nodding her understanding, but taking no steps to expand further upon that point.

"And is there any truth in that assertion, from your point of view?" he asked, nudging her along.

She sighed. "I don't know," she admitted.

"Other guys… don't like being outdone by their girlfriends. Right?"

"Listen," she said, taking a step forward, "I know it's a dumb reason, and I know it's pathetic, and I'm so full of regret that I let myself get involved with someone like him just because of something like that, that I—"

"—Makoto," he interrupted. "It's not pathetic," he said, staring at her intently. The way he said it caught her attention, and she was compelled to stare back. His eyes were so piercing in that moment, she was completely disarmed. "You're not pathetic," he continued. "Leaning on other people doesn't mean you're weak. Needing other people doesn't mean you're incomplete. People aren't supposed to be alone—we're supposed to rely on others, because doing that makes us stronger. You're the strongest, most capable person I've ever met, but even you're stronger when you're not alone. It's a feature, not a bug—it's how we're made."

She was speechless.

"However," he said, leaning into the attention she was giving him to be just a little bit preachy, "this isn't an aikido exam… You don't have to dial back your intensity in order to succeed. If your partner can't keep up… then he just can't, and he has to deal with that. Nor should he treat your success as his own personal badge of honor."

She hadn't meant to be holding her breath. After a sudden intake, she was able to speak once again. "Ren, I… Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, turning away to look out the window to his right. There wasn't anything special out there, he just seemed not to want to look at her at that moment.

As it happened, this new angle from which she was seeing him allowed her a peek through the high collar of his button-up shirt. Now, even in the low light emitted from his desk lamp, she had a clearer view of the purple marks on his neck—and was reminded of what she'd cost him. "Oh, Ren, Jesus. Your neck," she said, reaching out to touch him.

He was startled by her touch, jumping slightly and uncrossing his arms. He moved them to his sides, grabbing the edge of his desk for support. She stepped closer to get a better look at what Tetsuo had done to him, moving his collar aside and taking his neck in both hands, gently tracing the bruises with the tips of her fingers. Lingering over his carotid artery, she felt his pulse quicken under her fingers. He took a shaky breath.

What was she doing? They'd never been like this before. Was it her imagination, or was her proximity doing something to him? Under her fingers, this man, who'd fought a thousand demons and won, seemed as fragile as a leaf clinging to an autumn branch.

She was very close to him. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck and smell the detergent on his clothes—she found the sensation enormously comforting. Apropos of nothing, she felt compelled to tell him, "I'm not a prude, you know," whispering delicately.

"I never said you were," he answered. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

"Or to myself," she agreed. "But if there's something I want to do, for no other reason than because I want to do it… that's okay too, right?"

"Of course."

She paused as if deliberating. "Is that okay with you?"

Her fingers had migrated to the back of his neck, teasing his hair, and she had inched even closer. There was an emphasis on the "you" that signaled a request for permission. There was something she wanted to do, just because she wanted to do it—and she wanted to do it to him. And was that okay?

"Yes," he replied, his heart pounding in his chest.

She nodded slowly, taking a long, drawn out breath. Her eyes drifted closed, and she pressed her lips gently against his. Her lips were moist and sweet. Being careful not to accelerate things beyond where she was willing to take them, he kissed her back, answering, not intensifying. His grip on his desk tightened.

The kiss lasted several seconds before she broke it, pulling away just a few inches to take a low breath. She exhaled into his mouth, then met his lips once again. Their first kiss had been sweet—with the second, she was more demanding. Thrusting her tongue deep inside, she explored, she probed—she took. Ren moaned low in the back of his throat, a tacit acknowledgment that she had his permission—she wasn't going too far.

One hand remained at the back of Ren's neck, holding him firmly in place as she continued to taste him. Her other hand, she let roam, eventually finding its way to the top button of his dress shirt. One after the other, she unfastened them, working her way down.

With the release of the last button, she moved her mouth onto his neck, gently sucking and biting at the tender flesh, ministering to his bruises. Her hands moved to his shoulders, slowly pushing the fabric down his arms and revealing the full display of his chest and abdomen.

Contrary to Tetsuo's assertion, Ren was not skinny. He was lean and sinewy, yes, but every inch of him was dense with muscle tissue—a piano wire stretched tight, strong and responsive. Designed to do the most damage with the least effort, he was a finely crafted blade. She danced playfully along its edge.

Ren continued just to breathe, letting her do what she wanted to do to him. As his shirt fell to his wrists, he allowed himself to slip his hands out one at a time, never letting go completely of the desk underneath him, for fear he might collapse without it.

Makoto felt her way down his torso, tracing the line of every curve, scratching her fingernails into his skin. Ren shivered. She kissed her way down his chest, pausing to taste every muscle, caress every indentation. She was tentative, but not fearful. By the time her mouth was on his belly, her hand was working at the button of his jeans.

His erection bulged uncomfortably. Ren knew that there would be no plausible deniability once it was revealed. He wanted her, and she would know it—and he wouldn't be able to deny it anymore either. With a soft pop, the button was undone, and the zipper came down.

Ren inhaled sharply, and reached up for the bunk above his head. Seizing the slats on the underside of his mattress, he held on for dear life as she ripped his jeans down off of his ass, underwear and all. There it was, sticking right in her face, inviting her to come out and play.

She didn't touch it right away, and Ren had a moment of panic. What disappointment had made her hesitate? He dared to look down at her.

Makoto had a heady, intoxicated look on her face. Ren would've given anything to know what she was thinking in that moment, but before he could even begin to imagine, she had taken him into her mouth, and he was overcome with sensation. Ren gasped, white-knuckling the bunk as he gripped it.

He had never seen this side of her before—never imagined it. Not in his wildest dreams had he thought it would ever go this way. In his fantastical imaginings, he was the Joker to her student council president, the one teaching her about touch, sensation, pleasure—all of the naughty things that student council presidents didn't know about or think about. In the here and now, however, he was just Ren, and she was no student council president.

She was Johanna. Her fire, her passion—her wild disregard for anyone's rules but her own. As Makoto sucked and pulled at him, hands exploring every crevice, Ren's vision went white and he came apart. Unspooling into her, he lost all connection to the floor at his feet, to his dorm, to the world as a whole. There was just this. The sound of wood creaking under his fingers came as an alarm in his mind, drawing him back to his fleshy existence.

Her tongue pressed up on the underside of his cock as she swallowed what he'd spent. She didn't want to be done with him, but he was already softening in her mouth. She pulled off of him slowly, stretching him out as she decided where to go next. She pushed his pants further down, kissing and licking his balls until she could get him completely naked.

She pushed his jeans down past his knees as her mouth moved to his inner thigh, biting down gently. As his jeans got lower and lower, she hit a snag on his right leg. There was something unexpected there.

Intrigued, Makoto took his leg in both hands and lifted it up to pull his pants down from the ankles, revealing the cause of the snag. By touch alone, she was able to discern its identity: A knife strapped to his calf. That's right… she'd nearly forgotten: She was with Joker. She bit him a little harder.

Removing the jeans from his other foot and casting them aside, all that remained were his socks. Well, his socks and the stiletto, but those she would leave. She slid her way back up his body until she was standing eye to eye with him again. In his face, she could read the full extent of what she'd done to him: He was destroyed. Not permanently, of course, but he would need time to recover himself. She decided she'd taken enough from him tonight.

Pressing him against his own desk to keep him from falling over, she pried his fingers off the support slats of his bunk mattress. The force of his grip left dents not just in the pads of his fingers, but the wood too. Holding each of his hands in her own, she kissed him lightly on the lips. "Time for bed," she said, the tiniest bit of seduction in her tone, a hint that this was merely a time out. He nodded feebly.

She helped him over to the ladder at the end of his bed. Just the act of moving those two or three feet helped his body remember how it worked, and he was able to climb the ladder under his own authority. At the top, he stretched himself out along the length of his mattress and weakly tugged the comforter over his naked body. Within seconds, he was asleep.

She enjoyed the sight of him. His shape, his curves, his colors. The way he moved. He was beautiful, and she'd gotten to see all of him, or nearly all of him. And she'd unmade him.

She kicked off her shoes and stripped out of her capris, followed by her turtleneck and her bra. Her own nightclothes were crammed in her purse, hanging on the door hook, but she ignored them. Instead, she reached for Ren's clothes, draped over the rail at the end of his bunk. She stepped into his sweatpants. They were too big in the waist, and too long, but the drawstring kept them up over her hips. She pulled the black nightshirt over her head, letting it hang lopsided off of one shoulder. Turning, she examined herself in the mirror over the sink. She liked what she saw. Plucking his toothbrush out of a cup on the counter, she brushed her teeth. Finally, she switched off the lamp at his desk and climbed the ladder to Jiro's bunk.

Arranging the bedding to her liking, Makoto laid herself down, but Jiro's pillow didn't have the right smell. Pulling the hem of Ren's shirt up over her nose, she inhaled deeply, and was calmed.

She had taken from him, she knew it. Though, he would probably see it the other way round, that he was the taker and she the giver. But not since she'd first awakened to her Persona had she felt so powerful, so uninhibited. There was something she needed, so she took it, and he gave of himself to satisfy her. In the fresh darkness, there was nothing to see, but she looked to the part of the room where she knew he was lying and whispered a silent 'thank you'. He had helped her reawaken.

She looked forward to eventually returning the favor.