Disclaimer:

I do not own the story and the concepts represented in the fiction written. This fiction and all Persona-related fictions belong to Atlus, the fantastic company that created the games.

Author's Note:

There is no denying it. These chapters are getting longer than I originally planned. As such, it might take longer than I'd like to post new chapters. Also, so as not to confuse anyone, this story will feature a similar narrative to Persona 5, where the story will jump from the present to the past. When this happens, the date will be centered. Lastly, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and liked my story. Special thanks to reviewers:

Erelia, 9698674, KingPlotBunny, prince of underbrush

Warning!

This chapter will feature adult themes such as sex, mature language, murder, etc.

After

11/26

Through the window by the bed, strands of light entered the room, stirring her awake. Haru's eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in the spacious attic, neatly organized furniture, and other miscellaneous items. She pushed herself off the bed and smiled slightly as the light warmed her back. Looking over her shoulder, Haru smiled even wider at the mess of black hair belonging to Akira. His arm, holding her moments ago, was grasping for something – probably her.

Her soft gaze roamed his body, starting at his angular face and then toward his exposed torso. Her expression soured. Plainly visible on the right side of Akira's stomach was a bluish skin discoloration. Reminders of the cruel treatment he had undergone during his interrogation. Haru's heart clenched, looking at it; it had only happened a few days ago. Most of his wounds had healed quickly with one visit to the Metaverse; Ann, Morgana, and Mako-chan had ensured that.

But then, why did that injury remain? It wasn't only that injury, either. He'd mention being struck in the thigh. There was no discoloration to accompany that hurt, but Haru saw how he occasionally rubbed the spot; she assumed the others knew.

They had been so close to losing him.

The thought darkened her mood, ensuring the rest of the day would be like the day before: drowned in regret.

Haru sighed and touched her face. I have to try to be happy, she told herself. I don't want to burden him anymore. I don't want to overwhelm anyone. I don't deserve it.

The memories were beginning to surface. Haru didn't dare close her eyes or look at her hands. The last time she did that, she saw blood and screamed; it had been while staying at Ann's house. Ann had been so worried that she'd busted into the room and held Haru until she cried herself to sleep.

Slowly, deliberately, Haru began to count to ten. She had read online that focusing on something would free the mind for the moment when one started to panic. The advice's results varied, but as she stared down at Akira's peaceful, sleeping face, she desperately wished it to work. After what he had gone through and was going through, he didn't need more stress. And, he didn't need to comfort a criminal.

Haru was almost daffy with relief when her breathing regulated and her vision sharpened. Those random panic fits were uncomfortable and – if she was honest – downright horrifying. Sometimes it was just her imagination spurred on by the irrational thoughts that made her feel that a panic attack was coming. Then, other times, the racing of her heart, chest pains, and the impending feeling of doom and death were undeniable. She usually yielded to the torture until it was over. Thankfully, no one had ever been around during her panic fits; the panic fits mostly came when she was alone.

Taking quick steps to not wake up Akira, Haru maneuvered to the sofa where yesterday's clothing was scattered about carelessly, and a leather duffel bag lay. Gently, she undid the bag's strap, opened the bag, and reached for clean underwear. Her aim was the duffel bag, where she had prepared a neat dress for today.

Heat rose to Haru's face, staring at the lacy unmentionables much more daring than her usual underwear. Sure, she looked great in them, and sure they would get Akira's attention – which was why she purchased them – but the fabric still sent jolts of embarrassment through her body.

Oh well, she thought. It was a necessary evil.

Donning the underwear, then her white pantyhose, Haru reached for the phone in the bag to check the time. It was five in the morning; she had woken up an hour before the alarm she'd set, giving her plenty of time before she had to return to Ann's house, shower, and then head to school.

Maybe, she thought, I could get breakfast with Akira.

Despite the negativity in her head, the thought warmed her heart. She reached for the white long sleeve in the bag when her cellphone blared a tune that reminded her of gardening, the sun, and springtime.

"H-Hello," she said quietly.

"Ms. Okumura?"

"Yes?"

"This is the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. We'd like you to come by immediately regarding the incident. Our officers have more questions that they'd like to go over."

Again, she thought. More questions, she thought. Hadn't they questioned her enough? Hadn't the men with sharp eyes disbelieved and doubted her enough?

"I-I was told any questioning of the incident would have to go through my lawyer first."

"Y-yes," said the person on the line. Haru noticed the hesitation in the person's voice immediately. Just as Mr. Akiyoshi – her lawyer – had informed her, the police would harass her. They would do whatever possible to damage her credibility. Haru sighed, steeling her nerves. If such a situation ever came about, her lawyer had given her explicit instructions on what to do.

"From my understanding, no questioning could occur without my lawyer being notified. Was he notified?"

"Well, no, but –"

"Then, I will do what your department should've done, then arrive with my lawyer at a time befitting us."

The person on the other side of the line was silent for a moment before acknowledging her statement and hanging up. Haru felt the strength leave her legs, gripping the sofa's wooden arm to steady herself.

"Everything ok?"

Haru spun to face the bed. Akira was staring at her naked chest as he stretched on the bed like a cat.

"Wonderful view," he commented, smirking like he would in the Metaverse.

Haru immediately covered her breasts and blushed furiously. Despite how intimate they were and bizarre their relationship was, being exposed to his presence always sent chills down her spine.

"Akira…I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

The raven-haired youth shook his head and smiled softly. "No, not at all. I was just pretending to sleep to keep you in bed longer."

Haru's blush reddened; Akira's smirk widened.

"Akira," she complained.

Said man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Wordlessly, he slid off the bed – the blanket falling off his body – and stood nude before her and stretched, standing up. Haru's eyes did some rapid moments. Suddenly, she couldn't remember why she had been troubled seconds ago.

"Like what you see?" Akira brushed past her and reached for his duffel bag wedged between the sofa and the TV stand.

"Who was that?" he asked.

Haru blinked, regaining a scrap of awareness. She turned away from Akira as he dressed in sweats and a T-shirt.

"I-It was…"

Haru felt his hand on her bare shoulder. "Was it the police again?"

Oh, how his touch and presence eased her many worries to the back of her mind. Haru turned around and closed the distance between them with a hug. The sudden action surprised Akira, but he quickly returned the gesture.

"Everything's…going to be ok," Haru said.

"I know," Akira agreed, pulling her tighter. "You did nothing wrong."

But he was wrong.

Haru remembered the submission in the other person's eyes. She had heard the panic cries for help and the pleas of desperation. But, even louder at the time were her internal screams of anger and her persona's – Milady – demand for punishment. Standing bare in Akira's arms, a slow smile began to spread over her face. It disgusted her.

"Everything will be alright. Akira… (I love you) thank you."

Akira tightened his embrace.

X

With so many sudden changes in her life, Haru learned to value consistency. She appreciated school, her garden, her friends, and outings in the Metaverse. Unfortunately, despite her newfound respect for regularity in her day-to-day life, Haru did not appreciate her constant visits to the police department. The more private and intimate moments with Akira were even more so, regardless of how ambiguous their relationship status was.

The situation always seemed to play out the same during her visits.

In his early forties, her lawyer, an agreeable man, Mr. Akiyoshi, awaited her arrival outside of the department fifteen minutes before their arranged meeting. If there was someone Haru trusted, other than her friends, it was Mr. Akiyoshi. He was the best money could afford, and the board of directors and the new CEO of Okumura Foods ensured that. As the corporation's majority shareholder, the company could not afford Haru to be incriminated, especially after her father's death.

While her lawyer took care of the trivialities of the police's questioning, Haru considered her predicament. Given the nature of her crime, didn't she deserve to be incriminated? Didn't she, rather than her father, deserve a mental shutdown? Wasn't she worse than the tyrants her friends and her, as the Phantom Thieves, sought to bring to justice? But Haru knew the senselessness of those questions.

Morgana had repeatedly stressed that Persona-users could not develop Palaces; they had already conquered and accepted their shadows. Haru found herself wishing there wasn't such a tone of finality in Mona-chan's voice regarding the subject. Because if she didn't have a Palace, then there wasn't a distortion in how she viewed reality. That meant her action that night was of her own, unfiltered volition. Haru's persona – cruel yet empowering Milady – had urged her to carry out justice against her oppressor and weep tears of joy for her liberation.

Haru felt the same jolt of irrational fear that always surfaced whenever she was about to be alone with someone other than her friends but immediately reassured herself. Her thoughts on the matter always seemed to arrive at the same conclusion; it made Haru sick. Thankfully, her lawyer had handled the police's questions as he had the previous times – quickly and efficiently. Finished with the task, Mr. Akiyoshi recommended they privately discuss the topic in his office.

I can trust Mr. Akiyoshi, she reminded herself. No one's going to get hurt.

Deep in her mind, Milady stirred somewhere, conjuring a million terrible and violent solutions in case something unpleasant did occur. During those periods, Haru mentally prayed no one would set her off; her other self could be unforgiving when retribution.

Haru agreed to Mr. Akiyoshi's proposal, and the two relocated to his work office. Stepping inside, Haru began to feel at ease immediately and smiled at the warmth of the workspace. She was used to the rooms at the company and her father's private work office (which she tried not to think about too much.) Neither was welcoming. Both locations emitted a cold air that reminded Haru of how her father had run Okumura Foods.

Mr. Akiyoshi's office sharply contrasted with the coldness she expected of a professional's office. The wood flooring matched the brownish-dark hues of the long sofa, chairs, and desk positioned against the wall. Underneath the assortment of furniture was a rug of various tints, adding a splash of color to the room. Off to the corner, by the desk, was a collection of toy boxes and stuffed animals; a picture frame of a father, mother, and two children smiling stood proudly on the centerpiece of the desk.

Haru wondered if her father had any pictures of her or her mother in his workspaces before he died, then she shook the thought away as preposterous. Kunikazu Okumura was not a sentimental man. During his time alive as CEO of Okumura Foods, things that weren't related to making a profit or advancing his ambition were valueless. Perhaps if he hadn't died, then – Haru pushed the thought away deep into her mind. In the end, wondering whether Kunikazu Okumura would have been a better person was as fruitless as denying her crime.

"Ms. Okumura…would you like to take a seat?"

Haru focused on her surroundings to see Mr. Akiyoshi looking at her strangely – worriedly. Oh no, she had gotten lost in her musings again. Smiling shyly, the auburn-haired young woman hurriedly took a seat on the closest chair.

"Ms. Okumura, would you prefer tea or coffee?"

"That would be excellent, Mr. Akiyoshi. Thank you."

The older man nodded and then went to another room. A few minutes later, he returned with two drinks. He handed Haru the mug with coffee, then sat across from her, slowly sipping his beverage. Haru sampled her drink and internally smiled; it couldn't compare to Akira and Sakura's coffee.

"Ms. Okumura," began her lawyer, snapping her out of her comparison.

Haru looked up. "Yes, Mr. Akiyoshi?"

Her lawyer sighed, placing his cup on the small table between them. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but I must know…how are you holding up nowadays?"

Haru flinched, not expecting the question. After a while, she said, "To be completely honest, it has been a difficult month. I…try not to think about it too much and focus on my studies, but…."

What else can I say, she wondered.

"Yes, that sounds completely understandable," said Mr. Akiyoshi.

Haru suddenly asked: "H-how is the investigation and everything proceeding?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't see repercussions," her lawyer said, then smiled. "It is a complicated situation, yours is, but given the facts of what occurred that night, you were acting strictly in self-defense against a home invader."

Haru nodded. It was great news, her lawyer refuting her worst fears. But then, why didn't she feel good about it? In fact, all she felt was something akin to dread in the pits of her stomach.

"I see…"

"On the other hand," continued her lawyer, "the situation regarding Ms. Akio is much more…conflicting."

The mug in Haru's hand almost slipped from her grasp. "M-my head maid? W-what is so conflicting about her?"

Mr. Akiyoshi gave Haru a stern look, his pale eyes assessing her questionably. "Ms. Okumura, on the night of October fifteen, you and your head maid were the only individuals at your residence before –"

He paused abruptly; it didn't take a genius to see that the memory unhinged the young woman. Haru's eyes traveled to her hands, mentally praying for them to be clean of blood. The sight of her pure, unstained hands relieved her immensely.

"Akio-san was there during the incident. I could reason during that situation if only a little because of her presence."

Her lawyer sighed. "Unfortunately, Ms. Okumura, I have troubling news. The sudden call from the police department pertained to your head maid today." He paused, resting his head on his interlocked fingers, and looked into Haru's eyes. "The police believe that your head maid was responsible for the deceased Mr. Sugimura being able to enter your living quarters."

Haru and the world around her froze. Pure, unfiltered disbelief formed on her face. Seeing her expression of complete confusion, Mr. Akiyoshi continued, "The police reported to me some exchanges of communication between the two. The police suspect that Ms. Akio was under Mr. Sugimura's payroll, receiving a hefty amount to report your whereabouts and activities."

The coffee mug in Haru's hand loosened from her grasp, and the liquid began to tumble onto the carpet underneath them. Mr. Akiyoshi grimaced but gently removed the cup from the young woman's hand and set it down on the table.

It couldn't be, Haru thought. Akio, her beloved head maid for years, had intentionally – what? – arranged for that revolting man to enter her home. Ms. Akio, the woman who had been there for her more than her father. She was the feminine presence in Haru's life and the mother in Haru's life. Her father missed every birthday, holiday, and school event while Akio was there.

The tears began to stain her face before she knew they were there. "W-what will happen…to Akio?"

Her lawyer made a wry face. "Most likely…she will face repercussions from her actions. In the worst-case scenario, the entirety of the blame could fall on her shoulders."

"W-what does that mean?"

"That means," Akiyoshi said, "that she'll be pinned as the indirect orchestrater of the event and…that even capital punishment isn't off the table."

"Capital punishment…Akio-san?"

She received a soft nod in reply; Haru felt something loosen and shatter inside her.

X

By the time she arrived at school, the sixth period was well underway. Text messages and phone calls from her friends had bombarded her cell phone. Ann, Mako-chan, and Akira were the three most persistent of the bunch. Thinking about her friends was only a momentary distraction from the relentless wave of bad news she had received.

That was why it didn't surprise Haru when she entered the school and felt her heart drum painfully in her chest. Ice flowed through her veins, and her body tingled all over. Suddenly, the walls around Haru were closing in, entrapping her, spotting her vision. Pins and needles stabbed her back in waves, traveling up her spine like a ravaged monster. The fear was all-compassioning, like she was in Mementos, alone and without support, running from the reaper itself. She had to run. She had to run, or else it'd catch her.

Haru immediately ran toward the stairs and didn't stop until reaching the third floor and her private sanctuary: her garden. She fell, withering like a flower, onto the floor. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. All she was conscious of was the intense pain all over, squeezing her into a ball. Unable to breathe, she began to hyperventilate. Haru closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and waited for the torment to end.

She wasn't sure when the pain and the terror fled her body or when she could think coherently again. She wasn't sure when someone else had joined her on the rooftop, embracing her firmly in their arms. Haru looked up and saw unruly black hair, a frown, and sharp eyes: Akira.

She stared at her underclassmen without a hint of emotion, her latest panic attack freezing her insides to absolute zero. "Akira…?"

"You weren't picking up," he said. "Everyone was worried."

Everyone, she thought. Oh, yes. They had messaged her, hadn't they?

"Why…? I'm ok…and how did you find me?"

Akira considered the question as he eyed her angrily. "Where else would you go?" He shook his head, then muttered, "And you call this ok…?"

Haru opened her mouth, then closed it again. No, she wasn't ok. If she was honest, she felt nothing at all. Joy, sadness, rage, contempt, stress, and whatever else was foreign to her at the moment, she felt absolutely nothing. Even thoughts of her father's death, her head maid's possible incrimination, or her crime sparked nothing within her. Her current state was how the fits of panic left her, after all, dead and empty inside.

"No," Haru said after a while. "No, I'm not doing ok."

Akira inhaled deeply. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No…I don't."

Another sigh. Akira looked at the slowly disappearing sun. Following his gaze, Haru subdued that school had recently ended, meaning she'd missed her last two periods. Oh well, no significant loss.

"Is there anything I can do at all?"

Haru's gaze, full of indifference, trained on his silver orbs, brimming with concern. Was there something he could do? No, she thought immediately. There was nothing that Akira could do to end the nihilism for all of his oh-so-wonderful skills and traits. She was about to tell him when an idea sparked in her head. It was an unacceptable, unsavory, and scandalous idea.

There was one thing Akira could do for her. It was the one thing that always lit a match in her body and soul, comforted her during tiring times, and relinquished her mind of thinking. And – she suspected – would successfully rid her of the temporary emotional paralysis.

Without hesitation, Haru grabbed the back of Akira's head and smacked her lips against his. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. In fact, for the first few seconds, his lips were unresponsive against hers. Oh, wow, the things people could come up with when they stopped caring.

Finally, he pulled back and stared at Haru. "W-what are you doing?"

The sight of her fearless leader stumbling over his words appeased some deep, dark part of her – perhaps it was her persona: Milady.

"You wanted to help," Haru said, then kissed him again.

And once more, Akira pulled back. "Exactly how will this help?"

Haru wasn't deterred. She kissed him again, breaking between each contact of their lips to explain. "Because" – kiss – "it is" – kiss – "comforting."

She smiled at his apparent confusion. "This," she said, "will help me now more than you'll know."

Haru kissed him again, and after a few seconds, he responded. Haru felt it immediately; a tiny flame sparkled to life in a dark, haunted forest of emptiness. Feverishly, she kissed him. Already she could feel something besides the numbness, but it wasn't enough to satisfy her.

Throwing etiquette and concern out of the metaphorical window, Haru pulled down the zipper of her signature cardigan. With the shirt underneath exposed, she guided Akira's hands to her chest. As with kissing, he was hesitant at first before becoming at ease. Again, she felt the flames within her fanned. They continued in this exchange of touches and kisses until the need for more overwhelmed Haru, and she stood up from her position near his lap.

Akira looked at her in a daze, blinking multiple times, unaccustomed to not being in control of the situation. Haru smiled down at him and offered him her hand. Akira looked at her in confusion before accepting but wasn't prepared for when she pounced on him for another volley of kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Slowly, so very slowly, she guided them both backward until she felt one of the many available desks touch her back. Smiling, without breaking their locked lips, she hopped onto the desk and then wrapped her legs around Akira's waist; Akira none the wiser to her intentions.

Without him being aware, her hands drifted to the hem of her skirt and pulled it down slightly. She wished they were back in his room, warm, protected, and not entirely clothed. Oh well, she thought, desperate times.

Akira, at last, became aware of the situation when her hands lightly brushed against his pelvis. He stopped immediately.

"Haru," he said.

She looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Yes?"

"This is too much. We should, no, we have to stop."

Haru closed her eyes and breathed deeply to relieve some of the tension between them. "We should, shouldn't we?"

Akira nodded. "This…is going overboard."

"Just a tad bit," she agreed.

"Good so –"

"But who cares," she interjected. "What does it matter? I (love you) care about you. You care about me. This makes both of us happy."

Akira stared at her in astonishment, the gears in his mind racing behind his eyes. Finally, he said, "Are…you sure?"

Haru grasped one of his hands and studied it. Her hand was small in his but just as equally rough and calloused. Tenderly, she brought it to her lips. "I'm sure."

Akira seemed convinced, began to lean forward but then pulled back. "We…need protection."

"Oh…my bag should be around here somewhere."

Somehow Haru didn't mind the pause in their embrace, even if it sniffled the intensity from moments ago. Readjusting herself on the desk, she giggled as Akira searched the contents of her schoolbag almost apprehensively. She laughed when he held up a roll of condoms and looked at her dismay.

"Safety is vital when being intimate. Akio-san –" She stopped abruptly, feeling the creeping numbness stifle the flame inside her. The memories of blood, death, punishment, and betrayal surfaced anew. She needed to stop the thoughts now.

Surprised by the condoms, Akira was unprepared when he turned toward Haru, half-naked, tugging the suspenders off her shoulders. She could see his eyes glisten at the sight of her; she never got to undress completely. Alternatively, Haru thought it was a shame she couldn't showcase her lacy unmentionables. The memories slowly faded away with her pantyhose and underwear hanging by left her ankle and Akira above her.

"Are you sure?" Akira asked, trembling in anticipation.

Haru smiled and nodded. "Yes."

Gently, he entered her, and Haru breathed in deeply, her mind focusing on their union. She imagined she'd be more bothered about how stiff and uncomfortable the desk was compared to Akira's bed. Still performing the act, she couldn't care less. In fact, some aspects of her celebrated how unorthodox and improperly they behaved. Despite the fear she felt about someone discovering them, Haru realized a strange thrill accompanied the experience of someone overhearing them.

As Akira hastened his pace, it became unbearable for her to contain her shrills and moans. Of course, she didn't want someone to hear her, but the possibility ignited a fire in her stomach. Senseless by the excitement and pleasure, Haru reached out to Akira and pulled him down for a kiss. Unlike her, he was still partly dressed, attired in his leather and wool hoodie to remain concealed from the authorities.

Oh no, her mind suddenly conjured. What if someone caught them? What if he was found? The realization was almost enough for her to want to stop the act. Instead, with Akira so close, Haru kissed his bottom lip and then bit down on it roughly; if she couldn't scratch, she resolved to bite.

He groaned in her mouth.

"A-Akira." She sounded broken even to herself. "I-I…"

She knew he understood when he quickened his pace again and bit her lip as she had done to him. Something about him inflicting pain, alien in their past sessions, sent her over the edge. She stopped herself from crying out by chomping down on Akira's shoulder, confident his hoodie would prevent any teeth marks from appearing on his skin.

Her entire body trembled, frozen in place. She felt it to her face all the way to her toes, like each of her muscles was vibrating. The explosion of pleasure didn't end until Akira's achieved his release, undergoing a similar euphoria. Strange, their bouts of intimacy usually lasted much longer – their stamina greatly enhanced by their exploits in the Metaverse. Haru figured the excitement of being caught played a factor, no matter how frightening.

Oh, and Akira biting, she thought. That was very stimulating.

The twosome, completely satisfied, remained unmoving; Akira's hands gripped each side of the desk to prevent himself from falling on Haru.

"So," said Akira, breathing unsteadily. "Did I help?"

Haru nodded weakly. "More than you know."

They relaxed in each other's presence. However, oblivious to the twosome, a figure steadily climbed the stairs to the roof. With the finesse no other cat possessed, the feline turned the knob on the door and pushed it open.

"Hey, Akira! Where have you…what!?"

The raven-haired youth, still coupled with the girl underneath him, cranked his head back; his jaw slackened. Haru was speechless as well.

"What in the heck are you two doing!? Everyone's been looking for you!" Morgana turned away from the two, mortified. "Wait a minute…IS THIS WHY YOU'VE BEEN MAKING ME STAY WITH FUTABA!?"

Haru looked at Akira, her eyes pleading for a solution to their four-legged crisis. She saw his face undergo different expressions before something akin to his Joker façade appeared.

"Morgana, I have a proposition for you!"

The cat turned toward the two in his fit of rage, only to look away from their compromising position. "What!? No way! I'm so mad right now. First, you lie to me for who knows how long. Oh, wait until Makoto hears about this!"

"Not Mako-chan!"

"Especially Makoto!" Morgana said.

"A whole week of sushi," Akira loudly proclaimed.

Morgana's ears straightened, and his tail swished in the air. "What?"

"I'll offer you a week's worth of sushi for your silence."

"Hmm…make it a month's worth!"

Akira frowned. "Fine, but no more than that."

"Deal!" The cat began to happily scamper away but not before adding, "Oh, and no more of…you guy's doing stuff in the room where I sleep!"

"Fine, it's a deal."

"Oh, and no more sending me to Futaba's, ever!"

"Morgana!" Akira cried.

"Ok, ok," said the cat, taking his leave.

Akira exhaled and laid his head on Haru's chest. Slowly, he eased out of her. "I…need a hug."

Haru smiled, wrapping her arms around him the best she could.

"Oh," came Morgana's voice, startling the two, "you guys might want to hurry up. I think the gang's thinking of searching for you here soon. I'll do my best to stall them, but, in return, I demand an explanation later!"