Shinjiro Aragaki sat in a darkened corner away from the bright main plaza of Port Island Station. Laughing girls passed idly, passing wary eyes over the dark young man as they strode by and older men looked down at him with poorly veiled disdain. Shinjiro was not unused to this, however, and he continued to sit in his corner, watching as the sun slowly sank below the spinning the signature windmills along Port Island.

Shinjiro was lost in thought when a sleek voice sliced into his thoughts.

“Shinjiro.”

He looked up.

Mitsuru stood poised before Aragaki, her figure silhoutted by the ever dimming light. Aragaki scanned her over quickly, throughouly reviewing and checking over her demeanor, sizing her up, brutally searching for the meaning of her sudden appearance.

Shinjiro scoffed and looked away from her. “Don't tell me. Akihiko sent you to-”

He spotted a tinge of frustration on her brow as her eyes fell the ground.

“Don't be absurd. Akihiko conducts his own doings. . . I came to see you.”

Shinjiro looked back at her with unfathomable disgust and rose from his place in the dark corner. The sun had gone down, and the only light allowing Shinjiro to analyze Mitsuru stemmed from a distant streetlight. He took a step toward her, the shadows on his face sinking deeper into his skin as his eyes met hers.

She was looking at him as though she was ready for anything. Shinjiro suddenly became confused by this, and scoffed at her.

“Go home.” Shinjiro turned and began to walk into the darkness.

“Shinjiro, I'm still here.”

“No shit, get the hell outta here. I got nothin' to say to you.”

She was not going to run after him, so she merely sauntered.

“Don't be childish, Shinjiro. I meant I'm still here for you. . .” she trailed off, feeling awkward. She stopped, staring at his back.

Shinjiro turned around, looked Mitsuru straight in the eye, and advanced upon her like a stalking cat ready to strike. When he came mere inches away from her, he took her firmly by her school ribbon and pulled her in just slightly closer. She merely stared at him, her brow slightly furrowed in displeasure at his inhospitable behavior.

“I'm disappointed in you. Between you and him, I would expect him to be mushy one, not you. Let me give you some advice. Forget about the past. You won't find any help there, because now I could care less about you, him, or anyone else for that matter. Don't ever come here again. Get it?! Take your little tag team, and play your little games, but leave me the hell out of it. You and I have no reason to be. . .”

“Friends.” Mitsuru stated coldly. They stared at each other through their impasse, Shinjiro maintaining his tight grip on Mitsuru's ribbon and Mitsuru holding her firm gaze.

“Why did you come here.” Shinjiro asked darkly.

Mitsuru raised an eyebrow. “It seems you're the one who has gone soft on me, Shinjiro. Perhaps I am being foolish, but as I recall, you and I are more than just friends, we're allies,” Mitsuru practically spat the last word out, emphasizing its meaning with wide eyes, “and allies don't simply throw away their relationship because it inconveniences them. I came here to remind you that although you've turned your back on us. . . on me, I could quite frankly care less. So until you shape up and pull yourself together, you can do whatever you please as far as I'm concerned. Just don't expect me to retreat from a formidable opponent, since that appears to be the primary difference in our strategies.”

Mitsuru hadn't changed a bit. Shinjiro released his grip on her ribbon and did his best attempt at a Mitsuru caliber glare. “You have no idea who I am.” Shinjiro began to walk into the darkness, but before he vanished, he yelled over his shoulder:

“I better not see you here again. There's going to be hell to pay if I do.”

“I'll be here.” Mitsuru stated simply, arms crossed.

He stopped, snorted, and then continued on into the night.

Mitsuru hung back as he disappeared into the night.

His evoker had been knocked at least twenty-feet, and his axe was a mere shard of twisted metal in his hands. Having reached the conclusion that holding the shard of metal over the gaping hole in his stomach was a profound mistake, Shinjiro tossed the broken spear aside. Distantly, he heard the sound of Mitsuru's boots disappearing into the night.

He felt faint, and felt his knees begin to buckle.

“Shinji, you okay?” Akihiko yelled as he looked over at his friend and comrade, who was now huddled on the cold pavement, bleeding from a large wound in his abdomen.

“Rrrahhgg, yeah. Just. . . keep going, I'll take care of it.”

“Where's Mitsuru?!” Akihiko barked, pulling out his evoker and stepping in front of Shinjiro to take the heat.

“Uhg. . . she went to get something for the . . .bleeding. . . dammit!”

“Hang in there,” Akihiko muttered as he pulled the trigger on his evoker. However concentrated Akihiko's efforts were, Dia gave Shinjiro little comfort.

“Shit.” Akihiko muttered, as the shadow swung back its attack.

Ice. No way out.

“Akihiko, get the hell outta-” Shinjiro's screaming was cut off abruptly as a large bufudyne knocked Akihiko off his feet. There was no time to react, the shadow struck with a second bufudyne, and Akihiko was out cold.

“Akihiko! Get up!” Shinjiro screamed, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he crawled away from the advancing shadow. “Shit!”

The shadow lurched forward and swiped Shinjiro across the face, opening a wide gash in his forhead. He couldn't put pressure on his forehead; if he moved his hands away from his profusely bleeding abdomen, he felt certain that he would not be able to go on much longer. Shinjiro made a humorously pitiful stretch for his evoker, and managed to rip open the flesh wound in his abdomen further.

Another strangled cry leapt forth from his mouth as the shadow slammed down on the pavement beside Shinjiro's face.

He looked up and saw the towering monster bear down on him.

This was it.

“Penthesilea!”

A crack. An explosion.

Shinjiro moaned slightly as he turned his head to the side. The blood from his forehead dripped into his eyes, but despite this, he saw Mitsuru; rapier in one hand, evoker in the other. She had managed to stay the shadow's attack, but for how long? There was no way Mitsuru could take out an ice-intensive shadow with more ice. Shinjiro groaned miserably as he forced himself onto his back and inched closer to Akihiko. Mitsuru had the shadow focused completely on her, so Shinjiro was able to avoid detection. Blood marked his path from his beginning point and his arrival point at Akihiko's form. Reaching over the young boxer's unconcious form, Shinjiro took the evoker and forced himself up unto his knees.

“Castor!”

The dark persona emerged and threw a powerful Deathbound attack at the looming shadow before Mitsuru. It was just enough damage to allow Mitsuru a swift slash attack, and in the blink of an eye, the shadow was gone.

Distantly, Shinjiro heard Mitsuru's voice and the accompanying feeling of Dia sinking into his wounds. . .

Mitsuru waited at the train platform.

She looked at her wristwatch and sighed. The Dark Hour was still forty-five minutes away, and if she could catch the 11:17, she could make it back to the dorms without getting stuck. She had told Akihiko she was going out, but hadn't told him where or why. Akihiko had paused for a moment before he gave a nod and picked up the daily newspaper

“Student Council isn't meeting this week, are they?” he muttered passively as he brought the newspaper up to his eyes.

“No, not this week.”

Silence.

“Your study group meets Saturday mornings, is it?”

Mitsuru stifled a sigh.

“Saturday mornings.”

Akihiko did not look up from his newspaper.

“How's the Kirijo Group workload? They keeping you busy?”

“I . . . ”

“Ah, that's right. Kirijo-San handles that. . . in fact, he would never ask you to do anything for the company while in school.”

His point had been made. He knew she was up to something different this night and it annoyed Mitsuru thoroughly. Akihiko went gallavanting off on his own on a nightly basis, but she didn't pester him so. It didn't seem fair that she was allowing him to prode her in this fashion. Without another word, Mitsuru wrapped herself in her coat and left.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Quite sure.”

Jin was silent.

“She's not going to go down quietly.”

“No, not at all.” Takaya made a face.

Jin sighed.

“Don't be so pessimistic, Jin. It will be fun,” Takaya smiled and put a comforting hand on the morose young man's shoulder. “Do you have the syringe?”

Jin pulled out the long needle and double checked that it was ready to go.

“Is it enough?”

“If anything, it will be too much. That's all right, I suppose. After all, are we not merciful creatures? Despite the wrongs that have been infringed upon us, we can still show some sort of benevolence.”

Takaya looked over his shoulder and into Chidori's vacant eyes.

“Well?”

“She's waiting on the platform. Alone.”

Takaya turned back to Jin.

“Remember, priorities.”

Jin nodded and followed Takaya to the platform.

I should have just rode my bike Mitsuru thought bitterly, as 11:17 came and went. She had chosen the train because Mitsuru wanted some time to think, and a steady train ride provided a conducive atmosphere for her thoughts. Akihiko's latest project of re-recruiting Shinjiro had plucked an odd note with Mitsuru. Of course she wanted him back, but she knew he would not come back unless he felt the need to. Naturally, Shinjiro was not the type to serve a purpose for the benefit of others, but Mitsuru thought that maybe. . .

He's right. . . I'm so foolish. I shouldn't have come here.

She wanted her friend back. . . she wanted those days back. This was not to say she did not enjoy the company of the others, in fact, quite the opposite they were an essential and rather comforting component of SEES. However, it was difficult to let go of a bond that she had made so long ago and with such earnest.

Mitsuru sighed, and went to turn around when a hand clamped down on her mouth.

Mitsuru's reflexes simultaneously went into overdrive as she threw back her head and sharply butted her attacker. A hiss escaped from their mouth, but it was an abrupt noise halted by the fist of Mitsuru Kirijo. She whipped around and gave her attacker a rounded kick to the jaw, and he fell to the ground. The dark haired young man let out a loud curse, and Mitsuru went to pull out her evoker when a second attacker sharply pulled her arm back and forced a sharp snap out of the young Kirijo's shoulder.

Mitsuru let out a deep throated growl as she swung the rest of her body around to face the sudden attacker. The yellow eyes startled Mitsuru slightly, but not enough to distract her from the dead weight of her right arm. Thinking fast, Mitsuru swung with her good arm and managed to connect a moderate blow to the yellow-eyed man's gut. After wheezing for a second or so, he then whipped her around so that she was facing away from him and pinned both of her arms to the side. This was a rather entrapping move for Mitsuru, for she could not move her right arm without damaging it further.

“Now, Jin!”

The man with dark hair scrambled up off of the ground and pulled out a long syringe.

Mitsuru started to struggle, but released a hoarse cry when her captor gave a none-too-gentle tug on her right arm.

She felt a snakelike voice whisper into her ear: “A dislocated shoulder isn't something to take lightly, Miss Kirijo.”

Jin advanced on Mitsuru. He grabbed her chin and forcefully pushed it to the left, opening a space for the syringe to begin its work. Mitsuru raised her knee and made sharp contact with the flesh between Jin's legs. The resulting gasp led Mitsuru to believe she had been successful, but her victory was only temporary. Before Jin collapsed, her captor snatched the syringe from his hand and bitterly inserted it into Mitsuru's neck. Mitsuru yelped out in surprise; the yellow-eyed man's movements had been so impossibly fast, Mitsuru was not given the small opening that she so desperately needed to force another assault.

The small prick on her neck allowed Mitsuru's captor to release his hold on her ever so slightly. Mitsuru took advantage of this and managed to wrench her left arm free.

Something was happening. . . she couldn't quite think straight. Her motor reflexes were deteriorating even as she tried to blink. What was in that syringe? Mitsuru had to do something before total lethargy conquered her physique. Her left arm now free and her captors slightly off guard, she swung one last punch at the yellow-eyed man and felt the rush of the sting as she met her target.

She heard a groan, and a bitter laugh. The force of her punch had thrown her completely off balance and she reeled from the torque of the swing. She fell to the ground as her head began to spin so fast that her feet could not possibly keep time with its rapid flow. Mitsuru felt as though she were going to be ill, but she had to put as much distance between her and them before the drug took its full effects.

Mitsuru began to crawl as she heard footsteps draw nearer. As painstakingly slow as it was, she had to get away. She couldn't handle another round of physical attacks in her state, but she was not fast enough to avoid being hauled up by her collar only to meet those yellow eyes once again. After a small beat of silence, Mitsuru's felt the drug seep deeper into her veins. Desperately, Mitsuru tried to pry her attacker's hands off of her, but the drug was only allowing her to sag lower and lower unto the ground until total oblivion surrounded her.

Takaya dropped Mitsuru's unconcious form to the ground and sighed.

“I would rather have not resorted to hand-on-hand confrontation. It's so. . . primitive. However, this was a. . . special occasion.”

Jin coughed as he collected himself off the ground.

“She better be worth it, that's all I have to say,” he muttered as he approached Takaya.

Takaya ignored his comment.

“Well, this certainly won't do.” Takaya tsked, looking at Mitsuru's lifeless form “Why don't we take our new friend out for a little drink?”

“Tch, fine with me. I could definitely use something for that kick she gave me.”

Takaya gave a cold smile as he and Jin pulled Mitsuru up, and descended into the underbelly of Port Island station.

Akihiko woke with a start.

That dream again. . . Mitsuru screaming at Shinjiro, attempting to keep him alert, Shinjiro shivering and shuddering with convulsions. . . unable to control his persona. . . and Akihiko. . . standing by numb, dumbstruck, unable to understand what had just happened and why. . .

He had fallen asleep on the couch under the pretense of reading his school books. In truth, he was waiting up for Mitsuru.

Akihiko left his place at the couch and went to the window to investigate the surroundings. It seemed the Dark Hour was well under way, cars were frozen in the middle of the road and a few coffins dotted the sidewalk. Akihiko frowned. It was uncharacteristic of Mitsuru to stay out this late on a school night, unless they were at Tarturus. Akihiko turned away from the window.

Perhaps she had come home and went up to her room without waking Akihiko.

“Hmm.” Akihiko muttered. He decided to go up to Mitsuru's room and see if she had managed to slip past him. Akihiko highly doubted this was the case, being a light sleeper and extremely sensitive to sound and light, Akihiko would have detected Mitsuru the minute her key clicked the doors open.

On his way up to the girl's floor, he found Junpei sleeping at the desk in the common room of the boy's floor.

Akihiko raised an eyebrow.

“Junpei.”

Junpei woke with a snort. “Wha-whoa. . . oh. Senpai. Sup?”

“What are you doing up this late? Aren't you sick?”

“Yeah. . . Mitsuru-senpai was supposed to help me with my homework.” Junpei looked at his watch and realized it was frozen.

“Whoa. . . Dark Hour all ready? Man. . . That's weird. . .”

Akihiko's face was etched in concentration.

“What time was she supposed to meet you?”

“Uh, she said she'd be back by 11:30 at the latest. . . S'kinda weird. . . she's usually five minutes early for everything.”

Akihiko felt his stomach drop. Mitsuru never stood someone up, especially for a study date.

“Five minutes early if she's running late. You should go to bed, Junpei. I'll help you with your homework tomorrow.”

“Hey, thanks Senpai.”

Something was very, very wrong. Akihiko decided to elimate the all possible explanations for Mitsuru's tardiness one at a time. After trying Mitsuru's door (and even jiggling the knob, which was Akihiko's trademark signal) and not getting a response, he went across the hall.

He knocked at Fuuka's door.

“Just a minute!” came a groggy voice.

Akihiko sighed, thoroughly embarrassed about being up at the girl's floor at this time of the night.

Fuuka answered the door just as she was tying the front of her robe closed.

“Senpai. . .? Is everything all right?” Fuuka looked concerned upon noticing the unusual amount of seriousness on her otherwise aloof comrade.

“Sorry to wake you, Yamagishi. But. . . well, have you sensed anything out of the ordinary out there?”

Fuuka shook her head, a little dazed.

“No. . . nothing out of the ordinary. . . why?”

Akihiko paused.

“It's nothing. Just a weird feeling.”

Fuuka nodded.

“Okay. Um, well come back if you're still worried.”

“Thanks.”

“Goodnight, Senpai.”

The door shut.

Shinjiro needed a drink. No alcohol though; he didn't care for the taste and disliked how it rendered him powerless with his actions. The coffins huddled outside of the bar in the back alley indicated the Dark Hour's presence and Shinjiro ignored the morbid idea of the person inside being trapped in a coffin for a full hour as he entered the bar.

There, too, were coffins lining the barstools, crouched in corners, and filling the backspace behind the bar. Shinjiro had barely stepped into the bar when he saw four people out of the corner of his eye. He blocked himself from view behind the entry way wall, but allowed himself enough room to scan the room over. Apparently, Takaya and Jin had decided to pay the bar a visit as well, and accompanying them was Chidori, who sat apart from them, entirely uninterested in everything around her. Shinjiro's eyes passed over the three coolly, but came to a dead freeze on the person sandwiched between Takaya and Jin.

Shit.

Mitsuru was placed between the two Strega members. Though she did not look particularly healthy, she appeared much better than Shinjiro would have expected, considering her current circumstances. Shinjiro noted that her eyes were half open and glossed over, as though she were in some kind of limbo between consciousness and unconciousness.

Chidori had most likely known he was there, so he had to work fast in order to avoid suspicion. He stepped out smoothly, looking at the bar and giving an annoyed sigh. He then turned to Takaya and Jin, raising an eyebrow in their direction.

“Ah, Shinjiro. . . what a fortuitous turn of events. You're just in time to meet our new guest. . . or do you have the benefit of all ready knowing her?” Takaya's yellow eyes flashed.

Shinjiro's mind reeled. He had a pretty good idea what this was all about, and the plan that had been forming in the back of his mind since he noticed Mitsuru began to take shape.

“Is that Kirijo's daughter?”

“The one and only.” Jin said tiredly, adding an empty shot to his collection of several.

Shinjiro gave Takaya a dull shrug.

“We went to school together. What the hell is she doing here?”

Mitsuru looked up at Shinjiro's voice, and inwardly Shinjiro felt a pang of panic. If she recognized him, spoke to him, anything, things would get very ugly. Shinjiro was not afraid of Strega, he could handle them. However, if he lost his tie to Strega, he wouldn't be able to obtain the drugs he needed to ensure his persona remained obedient. The idea of Mitsuru knowing of the ties certainly rubbed Shinjiro the wrong way, but there was the possibility of Strega taking Mitsuru out of the picture altogether.

Shinjiro weighed the probability that Strega had adopted this move. Getting on the Kirijo Group's bad side was a plan doomed to hell, even from the cutting room floor. There was no possible benefit of messing with that family, as the bruises Shinjiro spotted on Jin and Takaya so eloquently demonstrated. Besides, it wasn't like Strega to kidnap for shits and giggles. There was something more sophisticated in their mode of annhilation, none of that teasing or maiming business. . . oh yes. It dawned upon him. What better way to ensure the deliverance of both a powerful message to SEES and a confirmation of Shinjiro's break with the group than to ruff up a former ally and highly skilled member of SEES. Yes, he was sure of it now, Takaya and Jin knew how to do dirty business in a very classy manner. Shinjiro's plan could now be mobilized, but he had to wait for the right opening.

Mitsuru looked as though she was struggling with something as her gaze at Shinjiro intensified. The look upon her face led Shinjiro to believe that she recognized his face, but could not recall who Shinjiro was. It was then he realized that she had no idea where she was or who these people were, including himself. There was one more thing he had to figure out.

“She's joining us for a drink. . . After some coercion, of course.” Takaya smiled.

“No shit. . . geez. How long it take you to take her down?”

Takaya was analyzing Shinjiro's crudeness.

“It was a challenge.” Takaya said simply.

“I can see that.” Shinjiro referred to the blood drying on Mitsuru's lip. “Good choice, drugging her, by the way. She could have beat you to a bloody pulp.” Shinjiro's statement was like a dare to Takaya.

Takaya smiled.

“Perhaps.”

“What did you give her?”

“You're sure asking a lot of questions, Aragaki. You gotta problem?” Jin tested, wobbling a bit as he worked on what appeared to be his sixth shot.

Shinjiro ignored him, and set his sunken eyes on Takaya, waiting for him to answer his question.

Takaya's smiled faded slightly.

“Don't you know, Shinjiro? It's a fairly simple concoction. . . very common.”

Shinjiro wanted to laugh. Takaya had given her a date rape drug! Such juvenile tactics were certainly not his caliber. There was something definitely suspicious going on here.

“Congratulations. Have fun with her, she ought to at least give you some amount of pleasure.” Shinjiro left his seat and made for the door.

Takaya frowned.

“Shinjiro.”

Shinjiro turned around lightly, a nonchalant expression dancing behind his eyes.

“Aren't you going to join us?”

“Join you with what?”

“Why celebrating our new found friendship, of course.”

“You want me to come with you.”

“Yes.”

Shinjiro paused.

“Give me a sec to go piss.”

Shinjiro walked with Mitsuru slung over his shoulder. Her evoker was gone, presumably apprehended by Takaya. They were headed toward the bridge, Takaya and Jin led the way and Chidori tagged along behind them. The only problem Shinjiro was struggling with was whether or not Takaya knew about his reason for leaving SEES. Of course, Takaya knew that he had once been involved with SEES and that he needed drugs in order to control his persona, but what else did he know about him. Did he spot Mitsuru visiting him tonight? Did he know about Akihiko's efforts to get Shinjiro to re-enlist? The more he knew about Shinjiro the shorter his ties to Strega were going to last, which meant Castor's unpredictable nature could be released.

Shinjiro's line of thought was shattered by the sound of car engines passing by.

The Dark Hour was over.

Akihiko was starting to feel panic settle in.

The Dark Hour had ended, and Mitsuru had still not returned.

Akihiko chewed the insides of his mouth and furrowed his brow as his hands remained attached to the curtains by the front window. Life was going on as usual.. . . is this what she dealt with from him? No. . Mitsuru knew better than to worry about him. She knew he could take care of himself. . . Akihiko sighed.

And so can she. . .

They made it to the Monorail Bridge. He thought that Takaya would bring him here, which was good. The more he knew for certain what Takaya was thinking the more solidified his plans could become.

“Right here should do. . .”

Takaya stopped on the south face slope of the bridge. A steep hill rolled into the black waters below. Shinjiro looked at Takaya.

“So. How are you going to celebrate your friendship with Kirijo. Going to give her a bullet to the brain? Or push her into bay?” Shinjiro said politely.

“Oh, I'm not going to do anything.” Takaya smiled. “I've had enough excitement for tonight.” Shinjiro noticed he had his gun out.

“Why don't you help us out, eh Shinjiro?” Jin stepped toward Shinjiro, his intoxication rearing its ugly head.

Shinjiro sighed heavily and dropped Mitsuru unceremoniously to the ground. She hit the pavement with a sickening thwack which elicited a painful exhale of breath. She moaned and rolled over unto her back, eyes lost in the sky, unable to focus and unable to move.

“You wanna kill someone, fine. Do it without me.”

“Then why the hell did you come here!?” Jin yelled, stumbling “You knew what we were going to do.”

“Do your own dirty work. I won't do it for you.”

“Takaya, he's in league with them! He won't stop, we have to kill them both!” Takaya gave Jin a dirty look as the latter got uncomfortably close, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“I don't have to pick sides, asshole. If being someone's bitch works for you fine, but leave me the hell out of this.”

Mitsuru's hands became clenched and unclenched. Shinjiro heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a ghastly pant. He stepped over her form so that he was blocking her from view. Takaya may have noticed her coming to her senses, but Jin said nothing.

Jin made a disgusted noise at Takaya, and snatched his gun. “If he won't do it, then I will, and I'll take him down too.”

“Jin! What are you doing?! Stop!”

Takaya was taken aback but could not move in time to stop Jin from marching up to Shinjiro and throwing a bitter punch in the latter's direction.

Mitsuru rolled onto her side and opened her eyes.

Shinjiro dodged the drunken punch. Jin was off balance, but nonetheless raised the gun at Mitsuru and aimed it straight at her head. Shinjiro swooped in and grabbed the gun Jin was carrying, attempting to wrestle it out of his hands. Jin was knocked off balance once again in the struggle, but that didn't stop him from fighting for the gun. Shinjiro had had enough of this. Shinjiro pulled back his arm and punched Jin off his feet. Once Jin was down, Shinjiro took the gun and pointed it directly at Jin's head.

“Shinjiro. . .who-are. . . these . . where. . .” came Mitsuru's disjointed voice.

He turned around and looked down.

Her eyes were still glossed over, but she had come to some primitive conciousness. Seeing her sitting on the ground in complete ignorance, Shinjiro thought she looked like she was back in middle school, so small and helpless. Shinjiro had incorporated this as a possible event, and was ready to make the necessary adjustments to his plans. Mitsuru could never know what had happened here tonight, how close she had come to being killed by Strega. . . or himself. As these thoughts rushed into his mind, Shinjiro realized that he hadn't completely purged himself of his past.

She had been right. Shinjiro felt an attachment to Mitsuru and Akihiko that he could not deny, but the guilt he felt from. . . that incident. . . would not allow them to see it. It was his secret, and he would make sure that his life would remain detached from them and anyone else, no matter what he felt inside. Self preservation was, after all, Shinjiro's only resort.

He had to do this without thinking, a moment's hesitation could kill them both at this point.

Shinjiro grabbed ahold of her collar, and butted her head with his as solidly as possible.

He knew how to seriously hurt a guy, but he wasn't sure how good he was at simply rendering someone unconcious.

Shinjiro was grateful that he was not facing the others, or else his plans would have gone up in smoke.

Mitsuru teetered for a moment, and then fell over face forward. Shinjiro felt the brush of air that followed Mitsuru as she fell past his right shoulder.

Shinjiro did not turn around immediately.

His face was contorted in self-hatred.

“Hold still!” Mitsuru snapped, working to stitch Shinjiro's forehead wound.

“Stop poking it!”

Mitsuru stopped, exasperated.

“I'm stitching it, Shinjiro. I have to “poke” it.”

Shinjiro sulked.

Silence filled the street. It was well past the Dark Hour, and Akihiko was still unconcious from his ordeal with the ice intensive shadow. Mitsuru's first priority was to dress Shinjiro's wounds and stop the bleeding. She would revive Akihiko later.

“That shadow could have creamed you, Mitsuru.”

Mitsuru merely smiled.

“Forgive me for pointing this out, but you were the one about to be 'creamed' so to speak. I merely allotted you time to collect yourself and strike back.”

“Tch. . .” was Shinjiro's reply.

Mitsuru smirked.

“You're welcome,”

Shinjiro rolled his eyes.

“. . .and thank you.”

Shinjiro looked at her blankly.

“Whatever. . .”

Mitsuru managed to suppress smiling at her small victory. Shinjiro had thanked her. . . in his own way.

Striking an innocent, this time knowingly and willingly. He had managed to actually commit the act when he deluded himself that it would save her. Now, he felt nothing but anger. He wasn't going to do this anymore, he was ending this right now.

Shinjiro turned around, assuming the positions with the gun pointed simply at Jin.

Shinjiro's eyes locked on Takaya.

“Well?!”

Silence.

“Did you get what you came for, asshole?!”

Takaya's face was unreadable.

“Whatever you wanted me to do tonight, I couldn't give a shit about. I'm not gonna kill some girl because you wanna see what ole' Shinji's really made of. If you want to get me to do something, you're barking up the wrong tree. Especially when you try and set up some elaborate fucking trap; grow a spine.”

Shinjiro spat on Jin, not breaking eye contact with Takaya.

There was a deadly impasse.

A flash of lights. A siren. Loud voices. Shinjiro's plan had been completed.

“HEY! BREAK IT UP OVER THERE!”

The lights shone on the south side of the bridge. Officer Kurosawa stepped out of the police car and gave a fast sweep of the area where a group of teens had just been about to explode into one of the countless spats that erupted on this part of town.

Kurosawa noted a small pool of blood on the pavement, but other than that, there was no sign of any violence.

“Geez, these kids. Outta their minds. . .” Kurosawa muttered as he got back into the car. His partner acknowledged him.

“Nothin?”

“Nothing. It's a good thing we got that phone call.”

Shinjiro entered the bathroom and pulled out his phone.

“Port Island Police Station.”

“There's going to be a fight at the Monorail Bridge at half past twelve. They have guns and drugs.”

“Who is this?”

Shinjiro paused.

“I'm not kidding.”

Shinjiro snapped the phone shut and walked out of the bathroom.

Shinjiro took Mitsuru into an alleyway and sat her down so that he could get a good look at her. Her mouth was covered in the blood pouring forth from her nose, something he must have done that when he knocked her out.

She had been through a lot tonight. Attacked, drugged, attacked again by an ally. Not exactly your picturesque night, especially when all she had set out to do was come and annoy Shinjiro.

Shinjiro sighed reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He looked at it and snorted, it was filthy.

“Piece of shit.”

“Shin. . .jiro.” Mitsuru's voice was fainter than a whisper.

Shinjiro looked up, startled. He wasn't sure of what to say, so he said nothing.

He could see that the drug was still with her, it would most likely be with her for another at least another three hours. She was making an effort, and it was taking away all of her energy. Shinjiro waited for what she had to say, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

“Thank. . . you.”

Shinjiro looked at her blood covered face, and his eyes moved down to her right arm, which hung limply at her side. He looked back up at her forehead, and saw the swell of a large purple and blue bruise forming below the mass of red hair. Mitsuru hadn't the slightest iota of what had just happened to her tonight.

“Let's get you home.”

Mitsuru closed her eyes for half a moment.

“I. . . .”

A sudden sweep of nausea crept over Mitsuru's face, and she leaned over her good arm to vomit. Shinjiro silently cursed. He must have given her a concussion.

Shinjiro carried the dazed Mitsuru down the once familiar street that led to the SEES dorm. At first, she had attempted, rather insisted that she walk on her own, saying that she was simply dizzy. Shinjiro had shrugged and told her that she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Rest assured, Mitsuru would have walked on her own, but the first step she took landed her flat on the ground.

Shinjiro decided not to listen to Mitsuru again, lest he be the reason for another injury.

“Mitsuru, stay with me.” Shinjiro muttered down at Mitsuru's tattered form.

Mitsuru swallowed and looked up at Shinjiro through half-open eyes, the blood now caking on her face. “I'm still. . . here, Shinjiro.”

Shinjiro frowned.

He was at the front steps of the dorm when he realized the welcoming party would most likely not be very welcoming. After all, he was carrying the fallen form of Mitsuru Kirijo, a fierce warrior in battle. Stepping foot inside the dorm with her drugged, bleeding body could be interpreted as a declaration of war.

Shinjiro looked down to see Mitsuru's eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

He could hesitate no longer.

Akihiko heard a noise at the door and lurched up off of the couch, his back screaming as he did so. Akihiko shot a glance at the clock as he made his way to the door. 1:30 A.M. Softly cursing, Akihiko tried to slow his speeding heart down, attempting to maintain his cool poise should it be Mitsuru returning. He wasn't going to let her off easy, not like she did with him. What the hell could keep the Student Council President out on a schoolnight until 1:30 in the morning?

He opened the door.

Shinjiro looked up darkly at Akihiko as the door swung upon.

“Shit.” Akihiko breathed, his eyes first going to the blood on her face, then the darkening bruise enlarging on her forehead, and then Shinjiro.

“What the hell!?-”

Shinjiro wouldn't have it. “You gonna let me in, or would you like to enjoy the scenery a bit longer?”

Akihiko snapped out of his initial daze and moved over so that Shinjiro could pass.

Shinjiro made his way to the couch, Akihiko close behind. As Shinjiro laid Mitsuru on the cushions, Akihiko grabbed a pillow and put it behind her head. He kneeled down and softly brushed her cheek with his knuckles “Mitsuru, hey. . . are you all right? Say something. . .”

Mitsuru shifted her head ever so slightly toward Akihiko, recognizing him but unable to formulate the correct response to his question.

“She has a concussion, but her nose stopped bleeding a while ago. Her right shoulder has been dislocated, and she's got a couple of bruises on her head and legs.” Shinjiro explained in a monotone voice.

Akihiko stared with disbelief at Mitsuru's injuries, his knuckles still grazing Mitsuru's cheek.

Shinjiro paused.

“. . . she's been drugged.”

Akihko's eyes hesitantly moved away from Mitsuru, his face drawing a blank.

“Drugged?! What?! Shit. . .” Akihiko was trying to grapple with the overload of information that, before tonight, he never could have dreamed possible. Who the hell would have the guts to do this to Mitsuru Kirijo?

Akihiko stood up and looked Shinjiro in the eye. Shinjiro anticipated this, and was not looking forward to dealing with it.

“Who did it.”

“I don't kno-”

“Shinji.” Akihiko started dangerously, his face becoming abnormally placid. Shinjiro could feel the anger brewing inside of his former ally, wondering how long Akihiko could control it before he exploded.

“You wanna have it out with me over Mitsuru's mangled body?!”

Akihiko looked livid, but did nothing as he realized Shinjiro was correct.

“Stay here. I'll go get Yamagishi and Takeba. . .” Akihiko started up the stairs, and turned back to give Shinjiro a reprimanding look. “I mean it. I want to talk to you,” and he continued to ascend the stairs.

Shinjiro considered leaving, despite the serious warnings Akihiko had just issued. He wasn't partidularly fond of the idea of Akihiko and a couple of girls encircling him. Shinjiro decided to stay. No matter what happened tonight, he needed to see it through to the end.

He leaned over Mitsuru and gave a shout as he saw her eyes closed. “Hey, wake up!” Shinjiro gave her a light slap on her cheek and Mitsuru's eyes opened with a jolt. “No one's telling you to tuck in, so you better knock off that shit.” Mitsuru replied with a groan.

“It's not over yet.” Shinjiro murmured, just in time to hear the sound of rapidly descending feet as Akihiko and the girls thumped down the stairs and into the lounge.

The two juniors (and a robot?) filled the room and gasped when they spotted an uncharacteristically damaged Mitsuru Kirijo sprawled out on the couch. They immediately went to her side and began inspecting the damage. Akihiko returned to his position directly before Shinjiro, ready dissect the latter's account of what had happened.

“Oh my God. . .” Takeba shook and covered her mouth as she saw her Senpai on the couch.

“Is she all right?” Yamagishi turned to Akihiko, looking frantic.

“I need you to look her over and clean her up. . .” Akihiko wearily told Yamagishi.

“How could this have happened. . . to her of all people. . .” Takeba trailed off, utterly lost.

Akihiko continued, “. . . and I need one of you to stay with her, at least for a little while.”

The robot stepped forward, “Sanada-san, I will stay by Mitsuru-senpai's side.”

“Thanks, Aigis.” he turned to Yamagishi “Take her up to the showers to clean up, make sure she stays with you until you're done. After that, take her back to her room and Aigis will stay with her until I come upstairs.”

“But. . . shouldn't we get a doctor?” Takeba asked uncertainly.

“We'd have to be ready to explain what happened to her,” Akihiko's eyes flashed for a mere second in Shinjiro's direction, “and since we're not fully sure what happened tonight, I'm afraid we'll just have to take care of her ourselves. . . .” Akihiko noted the look of doubt on the girl's faces. “It's okay, she'll pull through. . . It's Mitsuru, after all.”

Takeba shrugged.

“He's got a point there.”

Takeba and Yamagishi went to Mitsuru's side and carefully hoisted her up. “Be careful with her right side, her shoulder's been dislocated.” Akihiko added, his body still confronting Shinjiro but his face directed at the couch.

Akihiko turned to Shinjiro.

“What happened to her, Shinji.” The unusually impatient tone from the other wise smooth Akihiko caused the girls to pause in helping Mitsuru off the couch.

“It looks like she got ruffled up a bit, wouldn't you say Akihiko?” Shinjiro spat back, not allowing Akihiko to accuse him of anything.

Akhiko took a bold step toward Shinjiro.

“Not just a bit. It looks like someone was serious about taking down a highly skilled and highly dangerous member of SEES. It also seems like you sure know a lot about the extent of her injuries. . . You wanna explain how you found her?” Akihiko said softly.

“I found her just like she is now.”

A lie.

“You're lying, Shinji.” Akihiko's voice was rising, causing the girls to freeze on their way to the stairs, completely forgetting their assigned task.

“What did you say?” Shinjiro's voice curled softly.

“I said you're lying!” Akihiko yelled. “You're covering up for yourself, as always. This time. . .” Akihiko was shaking uncontrollably, Shinjiro had seen Akihiko lose his calm outer composure before, but not like this. . . this was different. This was unpleasant. . . undpredictible. . . almost like Shinjiro.

“This time someone got hurt. Not just someone dammit, Mitsuru for God's sake! Now you're trying to put me on the defensive so I'll back off and just say “it's none of my business,” well not this time. Not if looking out for yourself means she gets killed.” Akihiko thrust a hand in the direction of the stairs. “You don't wanna come back, fine, I'll stop asking. But if you hurt Mitsuru. . .”

He was panting. Shinjiro glanced down at Akihiko's hands and noticed they were clenched into fists. Obviously, Akihiko was roaring for a fight, and the next words out of Shinjiro's mouth could very well be his last.

Shinjiro glanced at Takeba and Yamagishi and noticed they were trembling. Apparently, Shinjiro wasn't the only one to be excluded from witnessing the detioration of Akihiko's facade.

The ball was in Shinjiro's court. He had not planned for this heated of a confrontation, and had to think on his feet and fast. Shinjiro could fight Akihiko under any normal circumstance, no problem, but Akihiko was in a rage, and. . . yes, impassioned.

Shinjiro was now sure that Akihiko had more than brotherly feelings for Mitsuru. In the past it had been ambiguous, but perhaps in Shinjiro's absence the two had become closer and more emotionally invested in the other. Now, seeing the fire in Akihiko's eyes, Shinjiro knew that Akihiko would be fighting not on the side of ego, which was normally the circumstance, but in order to protect someone he felt strongly for. The anger that was so tangible in the room now made the situation even more serious. Shinjiro guessed that an angry Akihiko in a volatile situation such as this would be a deadly opponent. Unfortunately, he also had the feeling that no matter what he said next, Akihiko was going to lose it. Shinjiro opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“Akihiko.”

Akihiko's eyes widened as he completely turned away from Shinjiro.

Shinjiro saw Mitsuru gently push away the outstretched arms of Takeba and Yamagishi as she pulled herself into to a complete standing position, although it was obvious that it would not last long. Mitsuru teetered dangerously, while Takeba and Yamagishi held their breath and kept their arms within catching distance on either side should she fall. Mitsuru's hazy eyes found Akihiko and see drew in a breath.

“Mitsuru . . .” Akihiko's rage went up in smoke, his voice suddenly soft and raw. Akihiko shook his head, “You shouldn't be standing, you're hurt. . .”

“He saved. . . my life.” Mitsuru managed to pull the words out of her thoughts to make a sketchy translation.

Shinjiro saw Akihiko's back stiffen.

“What?” Akihiko asked, not sure he had heard right.

“He saved my life.” Mitsuru voice strained and choked, and she accepted Takeba pull her onto her shoulder. It had taken all of her strength to do it, but she had intervened. Yamagishi wrapped her arm around Mitsuru's waist and whispered a few indiscernable words of comfort.

Akihiko was frozen.

“Take her upstairs.” He commanded softly.

Takeba and Yamagishi obeyed immediately this time, with Aigis bringing up the rear. When he was certain they were out of earshot, Akihiko strode past Shinjiro and opened the door wide, indicating that they were finished.

Shinjiro snorted, and shuffled past Akihiko.

“You walk a dangerous line, Shinji.” Akihiko stated as Shinjiro stepped out onto the doorstep. Shinjiro turned around.

“And just what the hell do you know about me?” Shinjiro asked defiantly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and sneering.

“Not much, these days. I don't know what's happened to you since you left, who you've met, or what things you've started doing, and frankly I didn't care up until now.” Akihiko's voice was rising again.

“I do know one thing, though.” Akihiko approached Shinjiro until his was nose to nose with the dark young man.

“If I find out you were involved with tonight in any way. . . I will kill you.” Akihiko said the last part as though stating a fact.

Shinjiro's respect for Akihiko suddenly grew enormously. It was not a threat, although it certainly had the potential to be interpreted that way. It was merely Akihiko stating the obvious. Shinjiro had known for years all that if anyone messed with Mitsuru (assuming Mitsuru didn't annhilate them first) Akihiko would exterminate them. The same went for all of them . . . if someone did anything to any of them, the other two would be there, ready to take up the sword. This was simply a reiteration of something from the past, and a reinforcement of the understanding between them.

“No shit.”

Akihiko nodded, pleased that Shinjiro understood.

Akihiko went to shut the door.

“Hey. I sure gained a lot by bringing her back here, didn't I? Makes you wonder how much someone else could gain by doing whatever they did to her. ”

Akihiko paused, gave a mild glare, and shut the door.

Shinjiro had made his point, so he gave the shut door one last look, and trotted off into the darkness.

Akihiko gently rapped on Mitsuru's door.

“You may enter.” Aigis' voice replied.

Akihiko entered and shut the door softly behind him.

Aigis was staring intently at Mitsuru's sleeping form. “I have been monitoring Mitsuru-san's condition carefully.”

Akihiko was silent, staring at Aigis.

Aigis turned to Akihiko, curious.

“Would you like an update?”

Akihiko released his stress through an exasperated laugh.

“Yes, Aigis, I would very much like an update, please.”

Aigis nodded.

“I have relocated Mitsuru-senpai's shoulder. The effects of the drug that were injected into her bloodstream allowed me to do this with little or no pain for Mitsuru-san. I have projected that residence time of the drug in Mitsuru-san's circulatory system to be approximately 4 more hours. As you may have seen, the side-effects were immobilization and memory loss. Her concussion is weak to mild, and I have been applying an frozen gel aid to her the bruise on her forehead every 3 minutes and 40 seconds.”

Akihiko pondered this while staring at Mitsuru. Her face had been cleaned of the blood, and just as Aigis had said, a large ice pack waited at the end of Mitsuru's bed for its next round of healing. Despite her injuries, Akihiko could not ignore the fluttering skip he felt at the sight of her sleeping form. Even now, she was. . .

“Was. . . everything else all right?” Akihiko asked awkwardly.

Aigis did not seem to notice the reason for Akihiko's awkwardness.

“Our examination of Mitsuru-san did not reveal anything unusual about her condition.”

That was good enough for Akihiko.

“If I may be allowed to continue.”

Akihiko raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh yeah, uh, sorry. Go ahead.”

“I have also been maintaining casual conversation with Mitsuru-san, to assure that she is indeed fully operable after her concussion.” Aigis noted the optimistic look on Akihiko's face. “If you wish to exchange casual conversation with her, I believe you have approximately 7 minutes before the temporary stimulant we gave her wears off and she enters a slumbering state.”

“Is it safe for her to sleep? If the concussions' bad enough she could lapse into a coma. . .”

“I have accounted for this possibility. I detected no neurological abnormalities in my scan of her condition, and have concluded through my dialogue with Mitsuru-san that she will not become comatose or deceased if she falls into a state of sleep with her concussion.”

Akihiko sighed.

“How. . . confident are you about that. . .” He was anxious about letting her sleep. He had seen what had happened to some of the boxers when they had nasty concussions and fell asleep. Sometimes they would wake up in a matter of hours or days, but some of them. . .

“I have a 1 in 70,000 probability of being incorrect.”

Akihiko smiled.

“Ok. That's good enough for me. You can go back to your room now, Aigis. I can take over from here.”

Aigis nodded and went to leave, but Akihiko's voice made her stop.

“Aigis. . . what did you feel when Shinjiro was here tonight.”

Aigis' eyes glowed.

“I do not 'feel'. However, my initial analysis of Aragaki-san was. . . abnormal. Although he does not pose a threat to SEES, he is a. . . tempestuous individual. The only rational conclusion we have at this juncture is to trust Aragaki-san, since he did return Mitsuru-senpai safely to the premises.” Aigis paused. “I have also received numerous feeds from Koromaru that Shinjiro-senpai has been taking care of him, and supplying him with food. Although they cannot speak your language, canines are an exceptional judge of character.”

Akihiko smiled sadly.

“Thank you, Aigis. Good night.”

“Akihiko-san.”

“Yes, Aigis?”

“The injuries sustained by Mitsuru-senpai were caused by a struggle. No doubt, her attacker or attackers share injuries caused by Mitsuru-san. I detected Shinjiro-san to have no injuries.”

Aigis gave a small bow, and left.

Akihiko did not appreciate the doubt that was encircling his mind regarding Shinjiro's involvement. Perhaps he had not done direct harm to her, but there was still something shady about his old friend's appearance tonight. Perhaps it was the lies that Shinjiro so easily gave out, perhaps it was merely Akihiko targeting a scapegoat when there were no one else present to blame for Mitsuru's condition.

When Aigis exited the room, Akihiko filled the seat beside Mitsuru's bed. He was hesitant to disturb her, but he had to know what happened tonight. He had to know where she had gone and why she hadn't told him.

Akihiko pulled the chair closer to Mitsuru's bed. The soft scratching noise of the chair's legs against the carpet caused Mitsuru to slit her eyes open just enough to see Akihiko's darkened face beside her.

With an extreme amount of effort, Mitsuru opened her eyes the rest of the way and sighed.

“Akihiko. . .” she said, relieved at his presence.

Akihiko nodded, feeling warm under the pressure of Mitsuru's glazed eyes.

“I'm here, Mitsuru.”

“I. . . I'm sorry. . . I didn't tell you. . .”

Akihiko's brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

“Tell me what, Mitsuru?”

He took her hand in both of his.

“. . . I went to see Shinjiro tonight. . .”

Akihiko's face fell.

“What?” he said softly, his eyes glowing.

Mitsuru folded her lips together tightly and took a breath of air in. Akihiko sighed, and hesitantly looked up at Mitsuru.

“Mitsuru. . . I. . . I'm sorry. I need to know what happened to you tonight.”

Mitsuru's eyes went soft, as though she were trying to recall a dream.

“. . . I can't remember. . .” she said quietly, obviously upset at herself.

Akihiko shook his head and took her hands into his own. “Please try, Mitsuru. Whoever did this . . . needs to caught.” Akihiko ended darkly.

Mitsuru's expression was distant.

“When I went to see Shinjiro. . he was displeased at my presence. . . he told me to leave and never come back. . . I became annoyed and frustrated and . . . I think I may have said something to upset him. . . but, I left. I was waiting for the train. . .” Mitsuru's eyes became foggy.

“I was ambushed.” she murmured softly, wrinkling her forehead in recollection.

a hand clamped down on her mouth. . .she threw back her head and sharply butted her attacker. . . he grabbed her chin and forcefully pushed it to the left, opening a space for the syringe to begin its work

Akihiko felt his blood begin to boil as his heart sped within his chest.

“There were two of them. . .” the ephiphany hit Mitsuru like the sky had just opened up and the answers were pouring out. Mitsuru tried to sit up, but Akihiko gently pushed her back down. Her speech became faster, her entire body shaking, so Akihiko began to stroke her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

“I . . . tried to fight them off. . . I had one down, but. . . they had a . . . a syringe. . .” Mitsuru became more and more disconcerted as the memories oozed back in, their flow stopped by some sort of plug she couldn't pull loose.

Akihiko clenched his jaw.

Mitsuru was silent.

“Did you see their faces?”

Mitsuru nodded, but then shook her head.

“It was like dreaming of strangers. They seemed familiar, as though I had meet them before, but now. . . they don't seem real. . .”

Mitsuru swallowed, closed her eyes, and gave a rumbling exhale of breath.

“The next thing I remember. . .” Mitsuru sighed. “I saw Shinjiro. . .”

Mitsuru forced her eyes open, her blood grappling with the drug and her mind dealing with its side-effects. She felt the cold pavement under her hands and knees, felt the dull throb of her shoulder pulled apart from the rest of her arm.

Someone was standing in front of her, blocking her view from the source of the yelling voices.

A heated argument was well under way.

The sudden yelling and movement pulled Mitsuru's eyes up just in time to see a thin young man dressed in loud colors approach the figure in front of her. As the figure dodged a punch from a thin young man, Mitsuru's eyes widened to discover it was in fact Shinjiro who was standing before her, gaurding her. His dodge seem to roll off of his back and just as fast as he had moved, Shinjiro and the thin young man began to wrestle over the gun which was precariously pointed in Mitsuru's direction. Shinjiro rolled off a punch unto the thin young man's figure and Mitsuru watched him topple over in a most ungraceful way.

Mitsuru took in a sharp breath of air and let it out as she spoke to him.

Things were so slow. . .almost dreamlike. . .

“Shinjiro. . .who-are. . . these . . where. . .” her voice was her own and was, at the same time, apart from her, as though a ghost were beside her reading her thoughts and speaking them as they came.

Mitsuru saw Shinjiro look down, his face indiscerable. . . undreadable.

The blackness suddenly pulled the veil over her eyes once again, throwing her world into the night.

Akihiko went to put the ice pack on Mitsuru's forehead, but she pushed it away and looked at Akihiko unsteadily, as though she were clinging on to consciousness as though it were her lifeline.

“He saved my life.”

Akihiko did nothing for a moment, and then pushed her hands out of the way and placed the ice pack on her forehead.

“Why did you go to see him.” Akihiko murmured.

Mitsuru looked as if the question was painful to answer.

“I. . . I wanted him to know that I was still here. . . Akihiko, I wanted him. . .” she was fighting very hard now, and Akihiko unwittingly began to stroke her cheek softly to placate her thoughts. He kept telling himself that he was doing it for her, but he knew of course it gave him great comfort to touch her, to be close enough to her to be able to provide some sort of comfort. It seemed to work as Mitsuru sighed serenely.

“I wanted him. . . to know. . . I. . . our friendship was still important to me.”

Akihiko watched as Mitsuru's battle against the advancing sleep deteriorated. He felt a small amount of joy as he saw her begin to succumb to sleep, observing the tranquility of the encroaching fog that she was so determined to fight away.

“Akihiko . . . I. . . I'm sorry. . . to ask this. . . of you-will you stay?”

“I wasn't planning on leaving.”

Akihiko felt a flush spread from his cheeks to his ears as Mitsuru smiled, something she did rarely for others, but often for him. She gave his hand a squeeze and seemed to relish in looking into his eyes.

The fog had rolled in, and Mitsuru was falling deeper and deeper into her unnaturally induced sleep.

“Aki. . .” she whispered meekly.

“Yes, Mitsuru.” Akihiko replied, his voice low but intense.

“He needs time. . . you know that. . . leave him be, he needs. . . find. . . another reason to. . .”

Mitsuru's words dissolved on her lips as the onslaught of sleep overcame her defenses.

“Fight.” Akihiko finished for her, his eyes dull.

Rising from his chair, we went over to the wall, turned off the lightswitch, and returned to his seat beside Mitsuru's bed, his mind mulling over the events of the past, present, and the soon to be future.