A/N: No, I just can't get enough AkiMitsu. I started this months ago when I was itching to write something about the two and came up with an idea for a 2-chapter fic to accompany Universe. You don't need to have read that to understand this, but considering most of the things here are intertwined with the events in that story, it would certainly help if you did.

This chapter will focus on little bits and pieces of Mitsuru's life. The next will be Akihiko's. There will be some mature material but nothing explicit; I really don't think it warrants an M-rating.

Also, this is my first time writing in present tense and although it was a nice change, I found myself gradually veering off to past tense sometimes. Please do point out anything that sounds funny and I'll (try) to correct them. As usual, let me know about typos too.

And I own NOTHING... (except a certain fangirl...)

Mother

She accepts the cup of tea from the maid with a grateful nod and takes a sip, fully aware that the lady before her is watching her behind the china touching her own lips. Mitsuru breathes in the sweet scent of the brew and sets the cup down, shifting her gaze to the small but incredibly well-kept garden below the veranda. Eimi Kirijo has always had a green thumb.

How is school, my dear? It is one of her usual questions. The redhead turns and smiles slightly, a finger lightly touching the rim of the cup in her hands. Everything is fine, she answers. There is a pause as she hesitates, then says, I am happy to see you in good health.

Her mother's smile is as warm as she remembers but there is no mistaking the dark look clouding her eyes when she asks, Are you still… helping your father?

The inquiry is vague but does not faze Mitsuru. She understands its true meaning. It is something that she does not like to talk about during their occasional afternoon teas. Regardless, the matter is always unavoidable and so she sips her drink again and quietly assures, I am not alone… I have friends now—Sanada and Aragaki, as you'd recall. She knows her response does nothing to ease her mother's concerns. Eimi has turned away, a distant expression on her refined countenance, a recognisable look. Mitsuru stares at her, anticipating her next words and yet already knowing what they would be. These meetings… they are like clockwork—the tea, the garden, the pleasantries. The questions and answers. The lies.

… And your father? It is as she expects. Eimi cups a cheek with her hand and her attention returns to her daughter. Is he well?

Yet again Mitsuru stares, wanting to not notice the ache in her mother's eyes or the watery smile on her lips. They are things she is already familiar with—things she hates seeing, but the show must go on. There is no room for compassion or sentimental feelings. Everything is like clockwork, and so she smiles back, albeit half-heartedly, and says, Yes. Yes, he is.

o-o-o-o-o

Internet

Be it school assignments or college work or the Group's business matters, the internet has always been one of her indispensable tools. She loves how extremely convenient and quick it is; everything in just a click of a button. Some subjects she finds rather strange, others simply amusing or sometimes even informative. She has looked up countless things—from Pocky (she had seen Iori eating it one day) to quantum physics to that random boy band she saw a poster of in the mall.

Now she stares at the keyboard, fingers poised over it, feeling uncertain all of a sudden. The cursor on the screen blinks patiently. She glances at the empty search engine bar and inhales deeply, then types in the words. It is hard for her not to breathe faster, not to notice her pulse racing, but the deed is done. She pushes the Enter button and waits, feeling as if she is balancing on a tightrope with nothing to catch her below.

The results of her search pop up in less than a second and the words she is faced with make her blush harder. Some are extremely embarrassing to read even in her head and some just make her stare even more blankly, unable to comprehend their meaning. Her eyebrows arch down in a puzzled frown and she hastily clicks on the first link—anything to get away from so many of the discomforting words in bold. Amber eyes scan through the article, catching key words and phrases that make her cheeks and ears burn…

Tongue. Underside. Up and down. Hands in your hair. Slowly. His breathing. Lick ha—

It is too much for her. For the first time, her curiosity has backfired. She quickly closes the browser, catching much needed breaths, and, after a moment's thought, clears the browser's cache, history, cookies, any trail that she might have left. The uneasy feeling within her does not leave even after she has turned the laptop off and she is unable to stop herself from going red when she bumps into him at the stairs hours later. What's wrong? Akihiko is surprised but clearly concerned.

N-nothing! She cannot help the defensive, slightly irritated tone in her voice and walks away without another word, leaving him mystified.

o-o-o-o-o

Tea

She is not addicted to it. She refuses to accept that she can be that weak, but it is almost twenty four hours since her last cup of tea and she is close to biting someone's head off. Classic withdrawal syndrome. Inhaling deeply, she massages the bridge of her nose and takes a drink of water. The bland liquid quenches her thirst but does not satisfy her craving. She looks longingly at the door, then shifts her attention back to the people around her.

—could do spot checks on the students, Odagiri is saying, his eyebrows arching down in his usual frown. If we can catch the culprit off guard…

Yes, that's right—they are discussing about the smoker. She had been abnormally inattentive halfway through the meeting. It does not help that it is almost four thirty and all Odagiri has talked about for the past forty five minutes is the cigarette stub he found in the boys' toilets and the many ways they could track down the person responsible for it. She glances at the other council members. A few are listening intently; some agree with the disciplinary committee's ideas and others rebuke them. The Secretary is stifling a yawn and Fushimi is scribbling something on paper. Mitsuru looks again to the door, her thoughts already fleeting, feeling as if a time bomb was ready to explode within her.

What do you think, Kirijo-san? Odagiri's words make her realise she has not been listening to a thing he has said. When she turns to him, the sudden burst of annoyance is uncontrollable and unexpected but she manages to suppress it just in time, inwardly scolding herself. It is unfair for her to snap at him simply because of her own weakness. He is a responsible and an incredibly loyal member, albeit a tad persistent, but he deserves her respect. Taking another deep breath, she brushes her bangs aside and realises that everyone is waiting patiently for her response. Another agitating spark jumps inside her. This is preposterous. She cannot possibly be feeling this way simply because she wants her tea. She is not addicted to it!

Still, regardless of the indignant voice in her head, she finds herself shutting her notebook and saying firmly, We shall continue this tomorrow. The others are taken aback by her unusual behaviour, though it is hard not to notice some of them heaving sighs in relief. Odagiri stares at her in dismay and opens his mouth to say something, but she is already out of the room.

o-o-o-o-o

Son

His blood runs through her veins and she hates him for that. She hates his greed and selfishness, his obsession with the Shadows, his indifference to what he had caused even in the final moments of his life. Most of all, she hates how he had hated who she was; how he had hated her mother for not bearing the family a male heir and how he had hated his own son for not sharing the sentiment.

Still, she can't help but wonder if she would have grown to be the person she is now had his opinion of her been any different. Ever since her younger days, she had learnt to push herself to her limits precisely because of his disapproval and distaste, wanting to prove him wrong in every way, to show him that it matters not that the Kirijo line would be continued by a girl.

She remembers standing by his casket, staring down at the ghostly-white face of the man who had destroyed her father's soul, feeling hollow, empty. She shed no tears—the man did not deserve them, not even as he took his last breath. Perhaps a part of her had been somewhat glad at the time and she is not ashamed that she had felt like that.

It is almost six years since his passing, yet she constantly feels the need to surpass others, as if, even in death, he still lingers over her shoulders, passing judgement at her every action, hissing criticisms into her ear. People always did say that old habits die hard.

She fights Shadows to protect her father and right the wrongs of her family, but it is hard for her not to take a strange sort of satisfaction in knowing that she is also helping to destroy something Kouetsu Kirijo—the grandfather she so despises—had created.

o-o-o-o-o

Underclassman

S-s-senpai! The girl before her is clearly nervous and this puzzles her very much. It is not someone she expects to see the moment she steps out of the Student Council room. Yes? Can I help you? Mitsuru inquires politely. Perhaps this girl is worried about something. As the new President, she needs to appear approachable; after all, it is her duty to listen to any concerns or complaints from the students.

The girl is short and dark-haired with a timid sort of expression, much like that of Fushimi's, the council treasurer. I… uh… I-I mean… she stammers. Mitsuru raises her eyebrows. Has someone harassed this person in any way? Her anxiety is most disconcerting. The redhead takes a quick look at her watch. Thirteen minutes before the meeting—she still has time. Do you have something you'd like to bring to the attention of the council? She inquires. We prefer students to use the comment box but I have some time for a short chat. What is your name and class?

The girl's reaction to the harmless question is baffling. She steps an inch closer and her mouth opens but the hesitant words come out a few seconds later, Uh… I'm… I'm, uh… S-S-Saya… um… C-class 1… 1-D… S-Saya… A-Atsuki…

Mitsuru blinks, noticing how crimson the student's face has become, not understanding this very strange behaviour at all but perhaps the girl is a stutterer. Regardless, she is used to being patient and so, she says, And how can I help you, Atsuki?

The girl suddenly backs away and something that sounds remarkably like a choked hiccup escapes her. She turns away quickly and flees, calling out in a terrified tone, N-never mind, Senpai! The few students she passes along the hallway stare after her in surprise. Mitsuru herself is uncharacteristically dumbfounded and wonders if she had seemed too hasty or forward with her questions. Perhaps she should try a different approach next time…

o-o-o-o-o

Rain

She stares at both of them and glances to the pouring sky, her eyebrows lowered in a knot of worry. They are completely soaked now; shirts clinging to their bodies, silver and brown hair slick and wet. They beckon towards her and call her name, flashes of white from their teeth as they grin widely but still, she does not move from her spot under the shelter. She can be adventurous at times, yes, but now she is unsure, wanting to take that step and join them and yet, hesitant and unable to do anything except watch the two boys in front of her. It goes against every fibre of her upbringing.

Sanada is calling her again but it is Aragaki who strides over, catches hold of her wrist and drags her out with them despite her protests. It only takes a few seconds before she is drenched, her skin cool in the summer evening. It feels strange in the downpour and as he releases his grasp on her, she finds herself looking up, squinting at the heavy drops of water falling down on her face, feeling an odd exhilaration growing within her. She has never realised how something as simple as standing in the rain can feel so liberating.

Feels good, huh? Aragaki says, running a hand in his hair with a smirk. She wants to answer—Yes—but instead, she remains silent and simply nods. Sanada smiles, wiping the water from his eyes. You've never fooled around in the rain when you were a kid? He asks in surprise. She shakes her head, inwardly wondering if she should feel embarrassed. It is barely three months since their friendship started and she is still unaccustomed to their ways.

She comes down with the 'flu the next day, her body not used to being subjected to such conditions of the evening before, but it is a price she is more than willing to pay for that first step out of her prison cell.

o-o-o-o-o

Upperclassman

He looks at her and she feels strangely anxious, as if her clothes are transparent or she is exposed in some way, but he doesn't seem to notice her change of demeanour. He turns to the Head of the Disciplinary Committee next to hear the girl's weekly report and Mitsuru watches him from the other end of the table. He lifts a finger to push up the bridge of his glasses and makes a mild remark about something that does not even register in her head. Then he moves on to the Junior Representative.

It's not that she is too young to realise it is a crush—she is just inexperienced and naïve. She had attracted many boys even in middle school but none had ever caught her attention like he has. She has always focused more on her work than her surroundings, anyway. He is plain-looking and has a quirky manner of frowning but it is his intelligence and strong leadership that draw her in. Though she admires his kindly ways and helpful nature, she tells no one of her views. Best to keep things like this to herself.

When the meeting ends, she is pleasantly surprised when he calls her over to him. The others take no notice. There is nothing unusual about the Council President wanting to talk to one of the members. He is penning something down in his notebook when she goes to stand by his desk. I saw your exam scores, Kirijo. Great work, he says, giving her a smile. Praise is always nice but it coming from a highly respected senior is even more pleasing. Thank you, Senpai, she answers, her quiet tone belying her delight.

The University of Kobe is holding a youth forum in two weeks. They're inviting the top students in high schools around the country. You interested? He takes a few sheets of paper from a file and hands them to her. She scans through the pages quickly. I'll consider it, she says with a nod. He replies, Let me know by Thursday. I'll put your name down if you're up for it. She merely nods again in response, then goes to pick up her bag and leave the room, taking one last glance at him, but his back is turned to her.

It is two years since his graduation. He still crosses her mind occasionally and she cannot help laughing at herself when that happens, thinking how rather silly it all was. Akihiko himself is amused when she nonchalantly mentions it. So that's why you were always staying back to help with the council, he remarks and she blushes.

o-o-o-o-o

Kitchen

They barely say a word to each other during breakfast. She cannot help but go slightly pink at a mere glance at him and likewise, his eyes do not linger long on her. After everything that has happened, it is inevitable. Thankfully, the juniors do not seem to notice something is amiss. Her father is, as expected, having his own meal in his study.

It is an hour or so after that she finds Akihiko in the kitchen, standing by the sink on the spotless marble counter, a glass of water in his hand. The others are already at the beach. He stares at her like a deer caught in headlights and this time, she is able to look straight at him. He could have asked Ayako to bring him something to drink, she tells him. I'm not that comfortable with maids, he replies with a tiny grin.

There is a brief silence as they lock gazes and she hastily turns away, feeling oddly ineloquent for once, a nagging lump in her throat. She had spent so much time preparing herself for last night that she has absolutely no idea what to do the morning after. The way he looks at her reminds her of just how much they'd given up to each other—how much of herself she had willingly surrendered to him. It is hard for her not to think about what they'd shared without feeling her blood rushing hotter.

Are you, um… gonna join the others? His face reddens the moment the words leave his mouth. She leans back against the counter and quickly glances around to make sure they are alone. Yes, she coolly answers. Weren't you planning on doing some laps? The casual tone of their short conversation feels strange. Even stranger is the fact that the both of them are clearly uneasy around one another, as if everything has changed after…

They say no more, but when he walks past her later, their fingers brush each other and then his hand is already resting lightly by her waist. She turns to feel his breath fluttering at her neck, her cheeks beginning to warm. They stand there, locking gazes, reliving the emotions they had felt the night before, and she involuntarily shivers. She wants to be with him but it is too risky. Her father is upstairs. The maids could see them any minute now.

He understands that expression in her eyes. As quickly as it happened, they break apart silently and she turns to head down to the beach. He follows half a minute behind.

o-o-o-o-o

Impulse

Her father has always been a quiet person but this time, his silence is chilling and disconcerting. She follows him obediently into his study, glancing back at the men trailing behind. Their faces are grim; no hint of acknowledgement about what had happened at all. One of them is holding on to her Evoker.

He moves to the nearby bar and pours himself a drink, downing it in a single gulp. She watches him carefully, wanting to gauge his emotions, but he just sets the glass on the table and orders their bodyguards out. When the door shuts quietly, he turns to her and swiftly delivers a sharp slap to her face. She is unprepared for such a move, involuntarily stepping back from the force of the blow. Her cheek flames and stings but there are no tears, just a dull shock. Her father walks to his desk and sits down, the chair creaking softly under his weight. She stands as still as a rock, breathing deep, shame seeping into the crevices of her soul. He has never acted as such before.

I have told you countless times never to go in there alone. His voice is tight and low and she knows that he is furious. You are still not accustomed to using a Persona. Why did you disobey me? She does not know what to say, how to explain her sudden recklessness in that fleeting moment, and so, she merely stares back at him. He unknowingly takes it as a challenge.

Mitsuru! His livid growl makes her jump. It is unusual to see him so angry. She swallows hard and says, almost inaudibly, something she does not say very often, I'm sorry.

He glares at her and gets up from his seat, leaving the room without another word, never casting her a second glance, and she is left alone to lick her wounds. Never before has he raised a hand against her. This time would be his first and last—she swears to that.

o-o-o-o-o

Risk

His elbow knocks over a pen holder and they immediately freeze at the soft crash. She whispers a half-hearted reprimand but he ignores her and soon her fingers are back on his head, buried in his hair. They breathe into each other's ears, sighs quiet and gasps hollow. She feels the sharp jab of the table at her hips as he pushes her harder against it and this time, her chide is clearly one of annoyance. He murmurs an apology but does not relent. The subject escapes from her mind like a piece of paper washed away down a drain. Perhaps it is because she is starting to get delirious from the pleasure. It matters not—she is all his now and she wants nothing more than to swim in the ocean of bliss that only he can evoke inside her.

The sudden jiggling of the door handle interrupts them for the second time. They stiffen, eyes darting to the door at once. The handle moves again but to no avail. Eh? It wasn't locked before, a puzzled voice remarks from outside.

Don't you have the key?

Only the President and Vice-President have it. Aw shit, I think I left my math book in there…

Akihiko pants against her and she feels him smile almost evilly before he resumes what he does best. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck in retaliation and he can't help but choke out a grunt of pain. She kisses him to muffle the sound.

Let's go find the President. She's usually outside the Faculty Office… or maybe in the library?

Hmm… I'm pretty sure I saw her walking around here somewhere a few minutes ago, though. She sees the door shake once more from the corner of her eyes but all she can think about is him within her and how close they are to being discovered, the latter thought sending an unexpected jolt of excitement through her. The situation that had earlier been so inappropriate now seems like a dangerous, thrilling venture. What is life, after all, without a little risk?

o-o-o-o-o

Imagination

He wonders if he had imagined it—the way their hands touched lightly, subtle yet intimate. Maybe the lights were playing tricks on him. Both seem unperturbed by his presence, however. Mitsuru acknowledges him in her quiet, respectful tone and Sanada mumbles a similar greeting before edging away to stand by the large TV, turning to the many photographs on the wall.

Why are you not with the others? He does not sound agitated but merely curious. Although he was initially surprised at their arrival, he understands that this is a well-earned break for them. It is almost two weeks since he has seen his daughter, anyway. She brushes back her hair and crosses her arms, gesturing towards her silver-haired companion. I was just showing Akihiko around, she says. The juniors preferred to entertain themselves with a bout of table tennis.

I hope you don't mind, sir, Sanada hesitantly says. Takeharu shakes his head and responds, Not at all... Mitsuru, come to my study tonight. There are some things we need to discuss.

Yes, father, she nods and he turns to leave the room, glancing one final time at the two. There is a hint of apprehension in the looks they exchange. He shuts the door and heads to his office on the second floor, his thoughts lingering back to what he thinks he had seen when he stepped into the lounge moments ago. Is there something between Mitsuru and Sanada? He knows that the boy is one of the very few she really trusts and they have known each other for quite a while now, but still, he cannot help the unsettling and protective feelings growing within him. She is his only daughter and it is hard for him to accept her having a relationship with someone. As unrefined as he might be, Sanada does not seem like a bad person, but Takeharu is not well acquainted with him.

He knows it is unreasonable but he refuses to accept that anyone can be good enough for her—can be worthy of Mitsuru. True, there had been the occasional suggestions about future marriages from the people in his line of work, but he had always brushed them aside, not wanting to consider things like that at the time, or any other time, for that matter.

But come now, why is he contemplating such issues? He is not even certain if Mitsuru is involved with anyone, and the more he ponders about it, the more he thinks he had imagined any sort of intimacy between her and Akihiko Sanada.

o-o-o-o-o

Jeans

Akihiko stares at her with wide eyes when she steps out and is unable to contain his amusement, chuckling softly. She is offended at once, then dismayed. Why are you laughing? Her tone is flat and indignant but his grin does not falter even at her frown. She self-consciously straightens and brushes down her top, her cheeks beginning to flush.

I don't think you should be walking around in that, he tells her bluntly. I'm not one for fashion but even I can tell that they don't match. She retreats into the changing room with a glare on her face and comes back out in her skirt in less than half a minute and promptly walks to the check-out with the article of clothing in her hands. He trails after her, suddenly quiet, but when the numbers pop up on the register, he does not conceal his shock. I'm not imagining those zeroes, am I? He asks in disbelief but she just hands the girl a credit card and answers, in an unusually obstinate tone, I want it. It is true—she has always wanted a pair of jeans, especially after seeing Takeba's one Sunday, but for some inexplicable reason, her family stylist bans that clothing in particular in the Kirijo wardrobe.

He is still dazed when they leave the store but she takes no notice of his feelings. Look, uh… I'm sorry about before… he starts slowly. But you did say you wanted me to be honest…

She knows she is being irrational by getting annoyed at his previous remark but she cannot help it. She doesn't really understand why his approval is important to her either, so she just shrugs and keeps walking. He pauses, sighs, and then finally offers to get them some takoyaki—a sort of peace offering. She accepts at once and tries hard to hide her smile, but he notices anyway.

o-o-o-o-o

Over

Her hand begins to shake as she stares at the small package in her grasp. There is no mistaking it—the white, tiny tablets, one for each day and month. The little holes on the packet indicate that the last one she supposedly took was on the final day of January, almost 3 and a half weeks ago. But she doesn't remember any of this. She doesn't even remember buying the pills, let alone using them. But they must be hers; the former residents of this room had cleared everything out when they left and no one could have entered the place for she has always locked the door in her absence. She turns the pack over to look for the expiry date. October 2011. They are hers.

… No no no no no. They can't possibly be hers. For starters, she would have remembered taking them. There is absolutely no reason at all for her to use birth control pills. She knows nothing about how they came to be in her possession. She knows nothing about them. She throws the packet into the dustbin and continues to sort through the drawers, trying to keep her mind occupied with something else. She is already late in packing up her things. She should have started a week ago but company and council matters had taken up most of her time. Graduation is now only one day away and she is supposed to leave the dorm two days after.

An hour later, she goes down to the kitchen to get a drink of water. The juniors are in the lounge, watching TV and talking amongst themselves. Someone is rummaging through the fridge and she notices a tuft of silver just behind the door. Sanada looks up when she passes and grunts, Yo. They have been dorm mates for more than a year but she still doesn't really know him very well.

Hello, she responds as she takes a glass and fills it up. He is holding a protein drink when she turns and for a brief moment, something familiar about the situation strikes her, like an eerie déjà vu. She blinks and it is gone. You all packed? He asks good-naturedly. She shakes her head. I just started today, she says. It's been a little slow-going…

I'm almost done. He grins. Heh, found loads of stuff I thought I'd lost tucked into some place in my drawers. Some of them I've never even seen before... Must have been stuffed into my locker or something. He rolls his eyes.

At his words, her thoughts inevitably shift to the medication she had discovered and she finds herself frowning hard. Could it be someone's idea of a prank? She has always hated practical jokes. She finishes her drink and excuses herself, returning to her room to start on her wardrobe. She is sorting through the undergarments and socks there when her fingers touch a hard box underneath the hosieries. Slightly surprised, she takes it out and slips the cover open.

Mitsuru's eyes widen. She stares, confused, bewildered and utterly shocked at the contents of the box. A sleek, shiny gun and a red armband with printed black letters lie there, but it is something else that makes her heart race even faster—a picture tucked in one corner of the box. A picture of two people: a redheaded girl smiling, holding and leaning onto the shoulder of a platinum-haired boy with an arm snugly around her waist. They are clearly a couple, but wait a minute, it is a picture of her with—

Her breath catches at her throat.

A/N: A couple of things to clarify...

1) I have always assumed that Mitsuru's mother was dead but she makes an 'appearance' in the latest Drama CD and her supposed name is Eimi Kirijo. I have no idea what the deal is between her, Mitsuru and Takeharu, so I kept the first part of this chapter ambiguous on purpose. Bottom line, arranged marriages = bad ending.

2) There's a reason for the seemingly random subjects/words. :)