Mitsuru sighed heavily, reaching awkwardly over to the back of her neck where a sharp piece of shrapnel had sliced its way into her flesh.

It's not that bad, it's not that bad, it's not that bad. . .

She thought numbly as she trailed slightly behind Shinjiro and Akihiko. They had ventured down to the frays of Port Island Station where they had encountered a sly shadow. Although the shadow was solitary when they first encountered it, it had used its ability to summon two more shadows which had megido at their beck and call.

Shinjiro and Akihiko had managed to squeeze by untouched, thankfully.

Mitsuru had fared well, but had a let her guard down for a small window of time. This had allowed the primary shadow to use a forceful agi spell, knocking Mitsuru off her feet and onto the ground. The shadow was alloted time for another attack, and of course it had aimed it at Mitsuru; but had missed. Instead, it hit a nearbly building, which then exploded into a spray of concrete, glass, and metal. Akihiko dodged the debris, Shinjiro blocked it, but it had hit Mitsuru. Mitsuru recovered just as well, but there was still the matter of the piece of metal lodged in her neck.

Akihiko and Shinjiro were wearily muttering about something ahead, as Mitsuru lagged behind: partly as a third wheel uninterested in their behavior, partly because of the nagging pain that was occupying her thoughts.

Shinjiro threw a casual glance back at her and slipped in a sneaky double take when he noticed the look of discomfort on Mitsuru's face.

“Hey.” He stopped, looking back at her with mild interest. “You okay, princess?”

Akihiko glared in front of him.

“Are you listening to me, Akihiko?” Mitsuru's voice made Akihiko turn to her with a half-scowling half annoyed look.

“What?”

Mitsuru narrowed her eyes impatiently.

“I said, I need you to make sure that, in my absence from the dorms, you and Shinjiro will stay put. Two is rapidly becoming a dangerous party number. . . even three I'm not so thrilled about.” Mitsuru added under her breath, glancing down at the folded newspaper at her side which read Apathy Syndrome on the Rise.

“Yeah, I heard you.” Akihiko said looking back down at his hands, which were fiddling with a few fallen twigs.

They sat idly on the edge of the flowerbeds outside the entrance of Gekkoukan High, Akihiko trying to kill time while Shinjiro was talking to a few teachers about his unusually low grades. Mitsuru had joined him to talk about this small matter and to kill time as well.

Mitsuru didn't give a heavy sigh, but instead looked to where Akihiko was sneering.

There were a few of her classmates, all males, cradling their books and talking lowly amoungst themselves while leering at Mitsuru. Mitsuru could hear a low chuckle or a lewd comment escape from their direction now and then, but she merely looked back to Akihiko with a bored look.

“How is your boxing coming along?”

Akihiko gave a surprised start at the offer of casual conversation, but ignored it and began snapping the twigs.

“They're really starting to piss me off, Mitsuru.”

Mitsuru shook her head.

“Let me take care of them. You have other things you need to worry about.” she said softly.

Akihiko frowned at the broken twigs in his hand upon realizing that he had snapped them all mercilessly.

“I could easily. . .” Akihiko started balling a fist at his side and looking eagerly at the group of boys in front of them.

“Akihiko, focus! What good are you if you keep getting lost in these petty sidetracks?” Mitsuru said, agitated, gathering up her small briefcase and putting on her coat.

Akihiko gave an exasperated sigh as he leaned back against a tree and flexed his arms to his sides.

“Sidetracking? You wanna talk about sidetracking? What was that 'how's your boxing coming along' bit back there? Or was that part of the master plan, keeping tabs on my progress-”

“Enough.” Mitsuru said bitterly, her brown eyes sending nothing but a cold stare at Akihiko.

“If it is so ridculous for me to attempt to be your friend, then I won't do it. But if you try and mock me, even worse, act like you know who I am, I won't let you live to do it a second time. I'll see you tonight and don't be late.”

With that, she turned on her heel and briskly walked away, leaving Akihiko alone with his irritation and his broken twigs.

“Quit reading like that, you're giving me a headache.”

Akihiko looked up at Shinjiro, who was on the couch opposite Akihiko. He was lying comfortably against the arm, with one limb laid out comfortably along the spine of the sofa, while his other hand gripped the remote. He was watching some stupendously lame informercial.

“I'm studying.”

“Well, quit it! It's pissing me off!”

Akihiko stared at him.

“American poetry-”

“Pisses me off!”

“Why?” Akihiko said, incredulous.

Shinjiro dropped the remote, steaming.

“Because. It. Just. Does! Okay? It really pisses me off!”

“Shinji, you're so pretentious.”

Shinjiro snapped his head to Akihiko.

“What?!” he hissed.

Akihiko looked back at him, dazed.

Silence.

“I. . . I think I just called you pretentious.”

Shinjiro stared at him, horrified.

“You've been hanging around the princess too much.”

“No, I haven't! And stop calling her that, it's childish.”

Shinjiro rolled his eyes, and turned back to his informercial.

“Besides. . . I know what this is really about.” Akihiko added, looking back down at his book.

Akihiko wanted to smile but didn't feel like wrestling with Shinjiro. . . yet.

Shinjiro continued to ignore Akihiko and pretended to be interested in the Lime Away.

Akihiko continued. “You're just jealous of my staggering intellect.”

Shinjiro swung his legs down off the couch and lunged across the small coffee table, aiming for Akihiko's throat. Akihiko threw up the innocent book he was perusing in order to buy himself some time, but Shinjiro tore past it and pinned Akihiko down on the couch.

“Shit! Shit, Shinji, no not that!” Akihiko screamed hoarsely as he struggled futily against Shinjiro.

It was to no avail. He was sitting on Akihiko's chest and had pinned Akihiko's arms securely under his legs. Shinjiro laughed maniacally as he placed his hands on Akihiko's shoulders and made scratching noise at the back of his throat. Akihiko's eyes widened.

“Don't!”

Shinjiro's smirk lingered as he continued to gather saliva at the back of his throat. Akihiko's face became panicked and desperate. As if reading his mind, Shinjiro let the saliva slip past his lips in a thin strand which culminated in a large droplet at its lowest point.

“You son of a bitch!” Akihiko screamed, struggling wildly.

Shinjiro sucked the saliva back into his mouth before letting it descend upon Akihiko once again. The saliva dangled precariously above Akihiko's eye, causing the aforementioned to wince in deepening anxiety.

Shinjiro sucked the saliva in again, relishing in the complete and utter fear written on Akihiko's face.

“I'm going to kill you! I swear, I'll kill you!”

Shinjiro let thin strand of saliva pour out of his mouth once again, the large ball of saliva nearing Akihiko's eyelash, Shinjiro went to suck it back in-

“Shinjiro-!”

Shinjiro sharply turned his head in the direction of Mitsuru's voice, causing the ball of saliva and its attached string to collapse right onto Akihiko's eye.

A piercing scream filled the room.

Mitsuru dropped a large book in Shinjiro's lap

Shinjiro barely kept a shrill scream at bay as the book made contact with a delicate part of his anatomy.

“Open it and get to work. I want a review of chapters 7-9 by 10:00 tonight.” She said coldly, folding her arms quietly.

“What are you, my mother?” Shinjiro wheezed, removing the book from his lap.

Mitsuru bent down next to Shinjiro so that she was eye to eye with him.

“Shinjiro Aragaki, I'm your worst nightmare.” Mitsuru said sweetly, a smirk forming behind those dark brown eyes.

Shinjiro paused, peering into her eyes daringly, and then returned her sweet smile.

“Whatever you say, Princess Kirijo.”

Mitsuru glared at Shinjiro.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Aragaki, give us a translation for the second paragraph, please.”

Shinjiro sighed as he stood up. After taking in a glance from both Mitsuru and Akihiko, Shinjiro recited the lines delicately.

“O Captain! My Captain our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:”

The class sat frozen, eyeing the dark Aragaki with perplexed expressions. Akihiko looked over at Mitsuru, whose seat was directly behind Shinjiro, and saw a ghost of a smile pass over her face. Akihiko may have imagined it, for it was there and gone so quickly, no one else could have possibly seen it.

The teacher smiled appreciatively.

“Eloquent and perfectly paced, Aragaki. You read American poetry well. Now, if you would, interpet the poem.”

“The poem was written about American president Abraham Lincoln, a tribute to his life's work and his untimely end.”

The teacher nodded curtly.

“Thank-you, you may sit down.”

Shinjiro gave an awkward nod and sat down, suddenly feeling warm under the eyes of his classmates. The tension in the room was killed instantly when the teacher began speaking again in his monotone voice. Shinjiro gave a soft sigh of relief, and looked over to Akihiko as the latter leaned to him.

“Looks like you've picked up a couple of traits from 'the princess' as well.” Akihiko murmured wryly.

Shinjiro wrinkled his forehead and went to snap a quiet retort back to Akihiko, but as he went to do so, his eyes were caught on Mitsuru's. She gave him a polite nod and even a quiet sincere smile before returning her focus back to her notebook and the teacher's droning voice.

“Hey.” He stopped, looking back at her with mild interest. “You okay, princess?”

Mitsuru touched the back of her neck and softly hissed to herself. The pain seemed to be spreading. Had other pieces of shrapnel hit her as well?

“Fine.” She murmured. “I'm fine.”

Shinjiro nodded and continued walking, Akihiko following him.

“Anyway,” Akihiko went on, “The guy is good in the ring, but he can't hold a candle to-”

“Aki.” Shinjiro said softly.

“What?” Akihiko growled, unhappy at yet another interruption.

“She's not fine.”

Akihiko looked at him, lost.

“What do you mean? She said-”

“She didn't say anything when I called her 'princess'. Something's wrong; that usually pisses her off.”

Akihiko thought this over for a moment before looking back at Mitsuru, who was looking extremely pale and was slowing down quite a bit. It was strange that she wasn't leading them back the dorm, as she usually took it upon herself to haughtily escort her teammates back after a night's battle.

“Well. . . what should we do?” Akihiko said awkwardly.

Shinjiro thought for a moment, before stopping.

“I'll get the ball rolling.”

Shinjiro turned around to face Mitsuru and Akihiko followed him.

“Hey, you're slowin' us down. What's your problem?” Shinjiro snapped.

Akihiko looked at Shinjiro surprised.

“Uh. . .” Mitsuru breathed, feeling the sharp edge jutting out of her skin and the sticky blood on the back of her neck.

Akihiko's eyes widened in alarm upon seeing the blood and moved toward her, but Shinjiro looked to him and shook his head quietly.

Akihiko looked at him incredulously for a moment, but then realized what Shinjiro had meant by getting the ball rolling.

“Mitsuru, you're getting sidetracked.” Akihiko said suddenly and bluntly.

Mitsuru's expression indicated that this statement, despite the extreme discomfort she was feeling, was annoying.

“Excuse me!” Mitsuru said loudly, still unable to put all of her concentration on Akihiko due to the stinging pain in her neck. “I. . . I'm just experiencing some discomfort. I'll take care of it when I return.”

“Discomfort?” Shinjiro repeated mimicking Mitsuru's feminine voice. “Give me a break.”

“You're letting your pride sidetrack you. If we let it go unchecked now, Mitsuru, it could come back and kill us all later in a battle-setting.” Akihiko said with a shrug.

Mitsuru's eyes met the ground with a slight frown.

“C'mon, if you were us would you let you off the hook?” Akihiko added, taking a few steps toward her.

Mitsuru touched the back of her neck again, feeling the metal's sharp sting burrowing deeper into her neck.

“I suppose you are right.” she muttered.

“Whoa.”

Mitsuru and Akihiko looked over at Shinjiro inquiringly.

Shinjiro shrugged.

“I didn't think she'd actually listen to you. I was just kinda wondering what she'd do to you once you talked to her like that.”

Akihiko gave Shinjiro a mild shove.

Shinjiro ignored him and directed a question to Mitsuru.

“You got hit?”

“No. . . well, yes.” Mitsuru shuddered, feeling a slight tickling sensation as the blood on her neck painted the back of her white blouse red.

“When the shadow hit that building, I think I got a piece of shrapnel lodged in my neck.”

“Let's see it.” Akihiko said, walking toward her with Shinjiro next to him.

Mitsuru automatically stiffened. Niether Shinjiro nor Akihiko seemed to notice, or if they did they didn't seem to care.

Mitsuru felt Akihiko to push aside her mane of red hair as Shinjiro placed his hands on her shoulder and the crown of her head.

The simultaneous sound of Akihiko and Shinjiro drawing in sharp breaths indicated that they didn't like what they saw.

“Holy shit.” Shinjiro gaped.

“Why didn't you say something?” Akihiko said angrily.

Mitsuru gave a shaky exhale of breath as she felt Akihiko and Shinjiro touching the wound and gauging the damage.

“I thought it was smaller. . . manageable.”

“Yeah, well, when it's on the back of your neck you oughta let someone else be the judge of that.” Shinjiro said distractedly.

“I've got a pair of tweezers and thread in my wallet, hold on a sec.” Akihiko said, and Mitsuru felt him shift in reaching for his pocket.

“You still tweezing your eyebrows, Aki? How many times do I have to tell you, you're beautiful no matter wh-”

“Shut the hell up, Shinji. You don't know how handy these things are. A messy cut can bring even the best down in a fight.”

“Sit down, princess. Let Dr. Sanada do his work.” Shinjiro said as Akihiko opened the flap to his wallet.

“I'd rather stand.”

“No,” Akihiko said absent mindedly as he untangled the thread from the tweezers. “it'll be easier for me to pull it out if you're sitting down. Standing makes the both of us relatively unsteady compared to sitting.”

Mitsuru paused for a moment.

“All right.”

Shinjiro and Akihiko led Mitsuru over to a nearby curb. Mitsuru sat with the curb behind her back, and Akihiko sat behind her on top of the curb. Shinjiro knelt down beside Mitsuru, allowing himself an acceptable view of Akihiko's perspective.

“Put your head down. Shinji hold her hair back. . . please.” He added, noting the look of disdain on his friend's face.

Mitsuru drew her knees into her chest and felt Shinjiro pull her hair back and pile it on the top her head.

She felt Akihiko hesitate.

“What is it?” Mitsuru said, feeling Shinjiro wanting to ask the same question.

“This is going to hurt. It's in deep.”

Shinjiro was extremely dependable when it came to making fun of people for being whiners or sissies, especially Akihiko. However, Shinjiro also knew when to do it. Now wasn't the time.

“Pull it out.” Mitsuru said, unfazed.

Akihiko gave a small nod and went to work. He placed his pointer and index finger on either side of the shrapnel wound, and with his right hand Akihiko used the tweezers to pinch the shrapnel and began pulling it out.

Shinjiro tried to look at Mitsuru's expression, but her face was placed strategically on her knees as her right arm wound itself around her ankles. Shinjiro noted that she had gone almost completely stiff, except for the stark movements of her jaw unclenching and clenching.

Shinjiro looked at Akihiko's face, etched in concentration with his eyebrows slanted downward. His eyes were wide open and focused entirely on the task before him.

Akihiko bit his lip and gave a miniscule sigh as he managed to inch the scrap of metal out of Mitsuru's neck. It was far from over, but the important thing was that it had finally began to budge.

Mitsuru squeezed a few tears out of her eyes as she bit down bitterly on her bottom lip. Without thinking, Mitsuru extended her free hand and grasped Shinjiro's sleeve with her finely manicured nails. Shinjiro looked down at her mild surprise, but wasn't sure how to respond. Awkwardly, he reached down with his free arm and took her hand in his. She readily accepted it, and Shinjiro almost yelped in surprise at her iron grip.

Akihiko had to block it all out. As the metal grudgingly allowed itself to be removed from Mitsuru's flesh, Akihiko was amazed at how large the actual piece of shrapnel was.

Mitsuru shuddered, and the two boys realized she must have been muffling a scream.

“Aki-” Shinjiro started, wanting it to be over so he could have his hand back.

“Past halfway, I think.” Akihiko muttered.

Akihiko's steady hand continued to pinch the tweezers over the bulk of the metal shard, and finally, after minute by minute of stalwart concentration, the shrapnel gave out and fell to the ground with a harmless clink. Mitsuru's body went limp with relief, and Akihiko and Shinjiro heard a soft sob escape from under her lowered head.

“Shinji, I need a piece of cloth.”

“What?”

“It nicked a vein, I need something to put pressure on the bleeding.”

Shinjiro and Akihiko heard a soft tearing noise, and looked down at Mitsuru, who still had her head resting on top of her knees. Now, her right hand was holding up a chunk of her white blouse.

Akihiko paused briefly before reaching forward and taking the ripped fabric from her hands and then put it on the back of her neck.

At this point, Akihiko allowed himself a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat off of his brow while giving Shinjiro a faint smile.

Shinjiro raised his eyebrows, relieved, and returned the faint smile before giving Mitsuru a congragulatory slap on the back. She ignored it as she moved her hand to the back of her neck and placed it over Akihiko's, signalling that he could move and let her put pressure on the small wound. He obeyed and quickly removed his hand.

The three of them sat up and stood in the middle of the darkened street idly, waiting for one of them to speak. Their waiting triggered Shinjiro to nod and smile darkly at Mitsuru.

“Anyone ever told you what a badass you are, princess?”

Mitsuru smirked.

“Call me princess again, and I'll kill you.”

Shinjiro and Akihiko sat on the edge of the flowerbed in front of Gekkoukan High, waiting for Mitsuru to emerge from its doors. She had told them to wait for her outside while she changed out of her school uniform and into some nicer clothes.

The heiress' father was in the area, and she had offered an invitation to the two young men for dinner at a swanky restaraunt. Despite the contingency that they look presentable and clean shaven, Akihiko and Shinjiro were sick of T.V. dinners and protein bars, and they had eagerly accepted the invitation.

So there they sat, looking ridiculously well-kept and well beyond the limits of uncomfortable in their ties, jackets, and shiny black shoes, provided to them courtesy Mitsuru Kirijo. Shinjiro parted ways with his beanie and had tied his long frayed hair back into a ponytail, eliciting merciless taunting from Akihiko's side.

After waiting for half an hour in the light sun, Akihiko and Shinjiro spotted Mitsuru exiting through the main doors of their high school in a short and elegant black dress which hugged her figure snugly. Her auburn hair was pinned into a simple knot on the back of her head, and she had traded her boots in for simple black pumps.

“Hey pervert, you're drooling all over your tacky tie.” Shinjiro jabbed Akihiko pointedly in the ribs.

Akihiko blinked and felt his face flush. A small sliver of drool had slipped out of his jaw, which had dropped a few inches. He gave Shinjiro a shifty look and brought a hand to his cheek and pretended to wipe away imaginary sweat.

“Uh, it's kinda hot out here,” he said lamely.

Shinjiro laughed harshly.

“You're hopeless.”

“When did she start looking like that?” Akihiko muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead.

Shinjiro chortled.

“Hey, Mitsuru. What's the hurry? C'mere a sec, I wanna talk to you.”

The sticky sweetness of a male's voice directed Akihiko and Shinjiro's attention to a scene unfolding near them. Mitsuru was standing intimidatingly before one of their fellow classmates, a boy Akihiko immediately identified to be one of the subjects eyeballing Mitsuru a few weeks ago. Akihiko gave a soft snarl as he watched the young man inch closer to Mitsuru while whispering something incoherant, yet most likely suggestive to her.

“Down, boy.” Shinjiro said, looking at Akihiko analytically.

“That dirtbag. What the hell's he thinking-”

“Yeah, he's pretty stupid all right.” Shinjiro said casually.

Akihiko was about to attack Shinjiro's non-chalant tone, when his eyes narrowed in on the male classmate's hand slowly creeping up Mitsuru's arm. Akihiko's eyes widened incredulously as he edged closer off of his seat. Shinjiro laughed softly.

“Shirakawa Boulevard. . . Tomorrow. . . . Room. . . That dress. . .” were a few of the words that Akihiko caught, causing his cheeks to flush a deep crimson just hearing them. Akihiko looked over to Shinjiro, outraged. Shinjiro's eyebrows were raised as high as he could raise them, an unbelieving open mouthed smile splattered on his lips. Apparently he'd heard it too.

Mitsuru gave her shady suitor a glare, and Akihiko thought he heard the phrase “exquisite pain” escape melodically from her lips before she pushed past him and made for Akihiko and Shinjiro. Her movements were cut short when the young man grabbed her arm.

Akihiko shot up.

“Whoa shit-” Shinjiro said in a strained mutter.

She turned around slowly.

The look in Mitsuru's eyes could not be translated into human words. She looked postively fatal. Not skipping a beat, Mitsuru ripped her arm free, grabbed the boy's shirt, and gave him a square butt to the head.

Everyone in front of the entrance froze as the young man crumpled to the ground. Mitsuru gave a displeased sniff as she stepped over him and ambled over to Akihiko and Shinjiro. She stood before them and smoothed out her dress, irritated.

“Shall we?”

Akihiko stood before her, stunned stupid.

“Nice move.” Shinjiro said, muffling his gleaming pride into the form of a grin.

Mitsuru beamed down at him.

“What can I say, Shinjiro? It seems you've made an impression on me.”

Shinjiro chuckled.

“I'm starving. Let's go.” He said, standing up and slapping Akihiko on the back. Akihiko snapped out of his stupor.

“Uh. . . yeah.”

Akihiko, Shinjiro, and Mitsuru left the school grounds, all three of them grinning about separate things and yet generally happy about the same idea.