Some notes: Please let me know if you see any typos or grammatical errors. I’ve done my best revising it, but I always seem to miss stuff.

I've transferred Chie to Port Island, so Kurosawa makes an appearance in this story. Takes place roughly 5 years after the end of P4. It's been a while since I've played so if I don't have the times down just let me know.

This is a two-shot. I’ll probably have part two posted sometime tomorrow. The pairing is Chie/Yosuke. I own nothing, and I crave your criticism!

Chie hated the syrup-radio.

The damned thing hadn’t worked right for months, and was still sticky after Officer Kibune had spilled syrup all over the knobs and speaker.

Never mind why Kibune had brought syrup into the car (“I can’t eat waffles without syrup, Lieutenant”), her close relationship with her radio had become rocky and distant, much to the reprimand of Captain Kurosawa (“Even though the damn thing‘s gummed up and we can barely hear you, you still need to check in every night, Satonaka!”).

She just hoped it worked now.

“This is Second Lieutenant Satonaka, I’ve come under heavy fire at block 21-9, just in front of the Yuzukawa Bank, I repeat: I‘ve come under heavy fire and need immediate-”

The firing stopped; much too quickly. Chie gritted her teeth and turned off the syrup-radio, thinking quickly that she had been too loud in her call for backup. She‘d just have to hope reinforcements would come.

It was then that Chie Satonaka realized she had no experience with being a damsel in distress.

This thought was soon filed away with all the other obvious facets of her personality as she weighed her options of staying down on the floor until backup arrived or sneaking out the other side of the backseat.

A child was crying. . . someone else was screaming a name.

She lifted her head and heard the tinkle of glass as it trickled past the quiet streaming blood and onto the floor of the car.

A quick check behind her revealed nothing but more glass and smoke wafting outside.

Chie turned her head back around to face forward and snuck a quick glance out of the window. The smoke was beginning to lift, but just slightly enough to allow a silhouette to appear.

One. . .

The glass had been shot out just moments earlier, compliments of the gentleman with the assault rifle and a bag of five million yen.

Two . . .

Or was it his accomplice who had emptied the frames. . . ? The one to his left and ducking behind a vending machine (A vending machine? Seriously? Geez.), armed with a more intimidating machine gun.

More gunfire, Chie hit the deck again. She felt the squad car quake from the rapid fire hitting the side and quickly squashed herself as flat as her body would lay. So much for getting away unnoticed. Chie’s attempt to look out the shattered window had attracted some unwanted attention.

More crying.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound.

Chie felt something thumping against her uniform. She glanced down to see her hand covered in rivulets of blood. Despite having no feeling in her right hand, she was clutching the syrup-radio tightly enough to make her hand shake.

There had to be more of them, two gunmen couldn’t make this much ruckus.

“God damn it.”

There were certainly more than two, but- the crying intensified.

You’re wasting time that kid’s gonna die go now go now go NOW

Shards of broken glass clung tightly to her sweaty palm as she crawled backwards (still clutching the syrup-radio with the useless right hand) on the floor and awkwardly tried to open the door without sitting up. She could hear the crying, but couldn’t pinpoint the kid’s exact location.

More gunfire; she’d been spotted. The screaming increased tenfold but the crying stopped. Chie didn’t pause this time, instead she tumbled out of the backseat on the covered side of the vehicle, and, despite eliciting another cascade of glass pouring down the side-door, scrambled to her feet. Chie discarded the syrup-radio and began her trek across the desert of smoke and pavement.

The firing continued, nearly drowning out the screaming of the civilians nearby (Where the hell was her backup?). Chie jostled lowly out to the street, trying desperately to put her fear on hold until she found that kid-

One

Chie’s arm flew back as the bullet pierced her unprotected flesh.

She dropped to her knees and paused for a few moments, trying to smother the scream rising in her throat. After focusing her attention on the blank patches of concrete under her, she began to crawl on her knees blindly searching the pavement for the crying child.

The smoke was clearing, the last shot was sheer dumb luck. Once the smoke lifted, Chie would be as good as dead.

A pink shoe entered her field of vision. Chie scrambled jubilantly toward the shoe, hearing the sound of her uniform scraping against the concrete as she did so.

The sound elicited a reaction from the little girl in front of her. Other than looking bruised, scraped, and emotionally exhausted, she was unharmed. She opened her tiny mouth upon seeing Chie, but Chie quickly raised a quivering finger to her lips telling the girl to be silent.

The child stared up at Chie, eyes as wide as saucers upon seeing the blood racing down Chie’s arm and hand. Chie tried to smile reassuringly at the girl and pointed quickly to the prefecture symbol on her unwounded arm.

The reaction was immediate; the small girl scurried to Chie’s side, and keeping the girl’s small hand securely in her own, Chie began to lead her back behind the squad car.

Sirens began to whine in the distance.

Chie sighed to herself as she gently pushed the girl down behind the protected side of the vehicle. Just one more step and then we’ll be ok, they’ll be here soon, just one-

Two

Chie let out a hoarse cry, causing the little girl to yelp too. Quickly, Chie dove over the girl and behind the squad car. Once Chie knew the girl was safely shielded by the tire and Chie’s left arm, she began to smooth the little girl’s arm reassuringly.

The girl was crying again; softly this time.

Chie swallowed, the adrenaline dying fast and the pain rising faster. It had to be somewhere in her chest, judging by her difficulty in remembering how to breathe and to the fact that she never wore those damn bullet proof vests.

“It’s ok,” Chie opened her mouth to say to the whimpering girl, but instead found no words and no oxygen left for her.

Pink shoes.

Loud.

Yosuke.

Where.

You.

Sorry.

Breathe!

Don’t. . .

cry. . .

Yosuke idly flipped the page of the newspaper in front of him while he propped up his chin up with his hand.

He glanced up momentarily at the clock on the coffee shop wall which read half-past ten.

Yosuke sighed and flipped another page.

While it was nice to get away from classes once in a while, being a temporary fill-in for his dad (stupid old man and his vacations. . .) was starting to fray Yosuke’s nerves. Not only did he have to commute back home to Inaba from Tokyo every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but he also was faced with extreme boredom is his downtime.

It wasn’t like he could hang out with the usual gang, either; Yukiko was working full-time at the Amagi Inn, Kanji was always busy helping his mother run the textile shop, Rise and Naoto were constantly on the move well outside of Inaba, Soji was traveling to America this year and had taken Teddie with him, and Chie. . .

Yosuke glared down at the newspaper, flipping the page with agitation and receiving a paper cut for his enthusiasm.

That idiot hadn’t even bothered to talk to him since the summer after their last year at Yasogami.

Yosuke’s eyes began to relax on the page.

It wasn’t like she was the only one to blame though. . . Yosuke frowned.

He didn’t give her an address to reach him at college, being thoroughly irked with her behavior prior to his leaving for college. Despite them growing to be extremely close pals their 3rd year at Yasogami High, Chie grew extremely cold the summer leading up to Yosuke’s freshman year. Not only was she more hot-blooded and quick-tempered than usual, but she also seemed to relish in bringing up the possibility of Yosuke hooking up with random girls while he was away. Yosuke, apart from being and annoyed by the implications that he was just some man-whore, was confused at Chie’s sudden turning away from him. So, he decided to give her some time and space to herself, hoping it would relieve the tension between them.

It worked too well. She didn’t speak to him for the rest of the summer. On the day he left she came minutes before the train departed, gave him a brand new copy of “Trial of the Dragon,” bid him a curt ‘goodbye,’ and left without ever meeting his eyes.

That was five years ago.

Yosuke’s frown deepened and, not liking where his thoughts were leading him, tried to lock his mind on the paper and the low hum of people chatting in the surrounding coffee shop.

A woman in a loud pantsuit was on T.V.

Yosuke made an absent minded reach for his coffee, while focusing on a small editorial piece on the costs of building a Recreation Center in Inaba-

“Good morning, this is Aiko Nakano reporting live. Breaking news coming out of Port Island this morning-”

Yosuke looked up briefly to watch the loud pantsuit speak in front of a scene doused in smoke and yellow tape. Behind her, a police car lay wounded from bullet holes and broken glass. He returned his eyes to his clock on the wall briefly before raising his arms above his head and stretching.

Yosuke sighed again before scratching his head, suddenly feeling something warm and light spread in his stomach. Something wasn’t right here.

Port Island. . . He’d been here before in high school, right?

“Three suspects robbed the Yuzukawa Bank at gunpoint this morning before open-firing on a police officer patrolling the area outside of the bank. Due to communication problems, Port Island Police did not arrive on the scene for over five minutes. . .”

Yosuke felt his stomach shrivel further into his spine. No, no that wasn’t it.

“While the gunmen are now in custody, police believe the gunmen initially became entrapped into the block and panicked when they began to fire at the police officer. A small girl was caught in the fire, and witnesses report the police officer crawling out into the street in order to get the girl to safety.”

Yosuke’s hands began to tremble ever so slightly. He pointedly ignored the resurfaced memory of Yukiko informing him that Chie had been transferred to Port Island upon her graduation from the academy.

He folded his hands together tightly in order to keep them from trembling further. Yosuke looked wincingly at the television screen, afraid to keep watching but unable to look away.

“There are no reports as of yet on the officer’s condition. . .”

The reporter pressed her earpiece in and paused momentarily before looking back up at the camera.

“We are just now getting information on that police officer-”

Yosuke pressed his clasped hands to his lips and wrenched his eyes shut. Satonaka, if it’s you, I will never forgive you. Damn it, Chie-

“Second Lieutenant Chie Satonaka of Port Island’s 23rd precinct.”

Yosuke opened his eyes to the confident smile and warm eyes that he had been without for five years. Her identification picture, plastered to the television, showed just how much Yosuke had missed since their parting. She’d grown her hair out slightly, a short stubby pony tail barely visible attested to that. Her eyes still glinted a hint of mischief but for the most part reflected newly found maturity and confidence.

Yosuke felt his throat constrict, and suddenly he didn’t want to see the picture any more. He wanted to see her; walking, kicking, sassing.

The T.V. refused to show it. Instead the reporter went on to ramble about Satonaka’s impressive ability to maneuver difficult situations, her personable attitude toward people, her rapid promotions which stemmed from her aforementioned qualities as well as a immovable sense of duty and heroism to the community.

Yosuke began to feel sick, and just as he pushed his chair back to leave the coffee shop, the ruckus on the T.V. stilled his movements.

“MOVE-Out of the way, damn it!” barked an older man in a police uniform as he pushed past reporters and civilians alike.

Yosuke sunk lower into his chair, feeling the nausea and shock conspire to blur his thought process.

The girl that was never far from his thoughts, who always bought steak off of his poor bank account in high school, who snapped him out of mid-battle panics, the one who kept him company after Soji left, the one who fell asleep on his shoulder on the way home from the school trip-

It was her. She was lying in the officer’s arms, her right arm and chest profusely bleeding red.

Yosuke stood up quickly; too quickly, and stumbled backwards.

He willed her to open her eyes and start yelling at the camera crews to get out of her face, but Chie remained lifeless. All at once she was close and unattainable to Yosuke. If it was the T.V. in Junes, he would simply reach in and pull her to him. Instead, he had to watch a stranger carry her bloodied body away from the wreckage while he waited in agony for her to open her eyes, if she could even open them at all.

Just as fast as she had appeared, Chie disappeared from the camera’s lens. The spell which gripped Yosuke was broken, and after taking one last look at the flurry of commotion on the television, he rushed out of the shop while dialing the number of the Junes Headquarters in Inaba.

Oh, man she felt sick. Sheesh, what did she eat last night? Steak? Ugh, maybe. She remembered one time when had eaten too much of that before, poor Yosuke had patted her on her back while she vomited up a very expensive meal that he had just paid for.

Chie frowned.

Something hurt.

Well, Yosuke. . . No. . . this was a physical pain. Like her chest had been run over a few times and then kicked for good measure.

Chie went to raise her arm to rub her chest-

“I wouldn’t.” Came a curt voice.

She tried to open her eyes, but could only muster a squint. The light flooded in, and the dark silhouette of Captain Kurosawa emerged at her side.

Chie swallowed hard, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare inside a dream, but couldn’t muster the strength to connect a cogent reaction to Kurosawa’s presence other than-

“Are you here to kill me?” Chie recoiled at the sound of her voice. What was supposed to come out as a sarcastic comment to break the ice came out weak, raspy, and kind of pathetic.

Kurosawa stared her down with a grim stare.

“Trust me, I’d like to, but I think I’ll wait until you’re fully healed.”

Chie’s eyes fully opened at his response and was thus allowed a survey of her current environment. She was in a white bed, a white gown, and a white room. The hospital. She knew it well enough from her rookie encounters with thieves and con artists, but Kurosawa had always brushed these visits off as negligible; even necessary for learning the tricks of the trade. Now, though. . .

Kurosawa hadn’t relented on that grim stare.

Thankfully, a nurse bustled into the room and dissipated the tension in the room by whipping out her chart with a happy smile.

“Satonaka-chan, resilient as always. . .”

Ah, Michiko, the kindly middle-aged nurse who always had the honor of treating Chie’s abrasions and cuts.

“Huh?”

Michiko smiled.

“Just glad to see you awake so soon after surgery,” she pulled out a pen. “All right, I’m going to ask you a few questions:”

Chie stared wide-eyed at her right arm, observing how tightly her bicep and hand were bandaged.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess. . . A little woozy.” Chie replied in a daze.

“That’s the painkillers. What is the date?”

“June 1st 2017.”

“Very good.”

Kurosawa grumbled irately, but Michiko continued unbothered.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“Hospital.” Chie murmured, noticing the feel of gauze against her chest and pulling herself up into a sitting pose. Her action warranted tense reactions from both Michiko and Kurosawa but both seemed at ease when Chie didn’t express any pain. Inwardly, Chie had to repress a hiss at the tight pain she felt when she moved.

“Why?” Michiko continued.

Chie paused, remembering the feel of glass on her hand, the smell of lead piercing her car, and the sound of a child-

“How is that little girl?” She pressed urgently, tightening her fingers around her bed sheets.

Michiko paused.

“Tell me what happened, Satonaka-chan.”

“Apparently I got shot at,” Chie responded impatiently frowning at Michiko and pointing to her arm “when I went to grab that kid. I don’t remember the second one but maybe if I weren’t being interrogated-”

“Calm down, Satonaka-chan.” Michiko replied patiently, giving Chie a look. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Sorry. . .” mumbled Chie apologetically.

Michiko smiled softly. “It’s all right. In reply to your question,”

Chie caught Kurosawa shift his glare from her to Michiko.

“She’s fine, apart from a few bumps and bruises. Her mother expressed her gratitude and will probably be on your doorstep tomorrow morning gushing her debt to you. As far as I can tell, you‘re well on your way to returning to your usual sprightly self and are fine to be discharged.”

Kurosawa growled a warning at the nurse. Michiko merely raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Following some strict provisions of course. First of all, no solids for two weeks; yes, that means no steak, Satonaka-chan.” Michiko cut Chie’s question off before she could even start. Chie looked down mournfully.

“No physical activity What. So. Ever,” Michiko continued in a strict voice. Chie winced. “And you’ll need to take antibiotics for at least two-weeks as well as painkillers, trust me. Don’t expect to back at work for at least a month-”

“The Lieutenant is in no condition to be on her own, she just got out of post-op four hours ago-” Kurosawa began in a commanding tone.

“The doctors know her quite well, Captain. Her right lung suffered only a minor laceration from the bullet and was easily stitched. They believe she would do best with bed-rest at home with twice daily house-calls. Trust me, while Satonaka-chan is a lovely person, she is a difficult patient and her presence here would only deter her own recovery. . . No offense.”

Chie gave the tiniest of shrugs.

“None taken.” The rasp lingered.

Kurosawa opened his mouth to argue but was silenced by a death-glare from Michiko.

If Chie wasn’t currently bogged down in nausea and discomfort, she would be stifling a chortle in Kurosawa’s direction.

“If Satonaka-san wishes to stay, she is more than welcome. That is all.”

Chie smiled weakly at the Michiko, appreciating the support. Honestly, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this whole ordeal off.

Kurosawa didn’t look convinced.

“I trust you can take her home, Captain.” Michiko nodded curtly at Kurosawa before smiling tightly at Chie, and then leaving without another word.

Kurosawa’s glare returned full-force to Chie, who responded with a nervous chuckle.

“Heh. . . Heh. . . Can I ride shotgun?”