[Persona 3] Without Words
Apr. 4th, 2010 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Characters/Pairings: Mitsuru/Yukari
Rating: G
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Notes: Written for
justice in the Spring 2010 round of
newgameplus
Wordcount: 1225
Summary: Mitsuru doesn't have the right words for Yukari--but maybe that doesn't matter.
Beta: None
Mitsuru paces down the upper hallway of the house in Yakushima. Outside, the August heat is thick and wet against her skin, though at least inside the house it is cooler. She checks her watch for the sixth time in four minutes and is annoyed with herself for the irrational behaviour. She has work she could be doing; she ought to be studying, or at the very least reviewing the latest spreadsheets that Takahashi-san has sent her. Yet she paces the house like an eager child, anxious for their arrival.
She hears the car pull up in the drive, and forces herself not to careen headlong down the stairs to greet them. To be honest she is surprised that they all accepted her invitation; she had thought that perhaps they would be too busy.
She descends the stairs as the maid admits them to the house. Iori and Amada are engaged in some manner of contest that appears to relate to one of the hand-held games they are both fond of, with Yamagishi playing referee. It is so normal that for a moment, she could almost believe they were back in the dormitory—
Except that one of their number is missing.
"Mitsuru!" Takeba, at least, seems happy enough to see her, waving cheerfully as she approaches.
"Hey, Mitsuru-senpai!" Iori leaves off his argument with Amada to greet her. "How's it going?"
"Welcome," Mitsuru says. She nods to Yoshino, who is gazing around the room as though she wants to sketch everything. "I've arranged rooms for all of you."
"Hey, thanks for inviting us back!" Iori says. Mitsuru notices the way he reaches out his hand for Yoshino's, and the way their fingers intertwine.
"Your kindness is appreciated," Aigis says. Mitsuru notices that she has grown better at modulating her electronic voice to sound more human. Except for the faint stilted formality of her speech, she could be any high school senior.
Akihiko greets her quietly, and she smiles back. It is good to have so many of the old SEES teem in one place. Perhaps Takahashi-san is right, and she does still need these small breaks to keep her focus.
She has the maids show them to their rooms, and checks in with the cook to ensure that dinner will be ready on time. Being the hostess is an exciting challenge; there are so many moving parts to check, so many details to pursue, but the end result is quite worth it. They are important skills for her to hone before she takes full control of the Kirijo Group, and at least here she will not risk her family's reputation if she should misstep, only subject herself to gentle teasing.
~*~
She receives a text message around eleven thirty, when the group has divided to pursue their own interests. It is from Takeba, and says "Meet me at the beach?"
She is curious, and she slips quietly out of her own house (strange, that it belongs to her instead of to her father) and walks down to the beach. Takeba is standing, hands clasped behind her, and staring up at the sky. The moon is just shy of new, a faint white crescent against a backdrop of stars.
"Hey," Takeba says, turning to face her.
"You wished to meet with me?" Mitsuru falls back on professionalism, since she is unsure what tone this encounter should take.
"Yeah." Takeba tucks light brown hair behind her ear. "I thought—I mean, it's been a while since we could talk. I thought maybe you could use a friend."
She starts to defend herself, to protest that of course she has friends—but that is not what Takeba means. Mitsuru crosses the sand to sit on the edge of the bench her father had installed for her mother years before. "It is appreciated," she says awkwardly.
Takeba perches on the bench next to her, eyes bright and curious like a bird's. "So? How have you been?" she asks.
"Busy," Mitsuru admits with a laugh. "Takahashi-san has been running the day-to-day business of the Group. He said it was important for me to go to university and spend some time experiencing the world, so that I can better lead the Group in the future. So I am getting my degree in business at Kyoto University, and have been working for the Group during my free hours. I told Takahashi-san I wanted to spend some time in each department at every level, so that I would have a good understanding of the Group as a whole." She laces her fingers together in her lap. "So far it is interesting, although I confess I had no idea of the minutiae that goes into the lowest level of corporate work."
"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you weren't busy all the time," Takeba replies. For all that her words are playful, they also sound a little sad.
"Very likely not," Mitsuru agrees. "How is your senior year going? I have been a poor correspondent, I am sorry to say."
"I'm captain of the archery club," Takeba says. "Junpei, Aigis, Fuuka and I were assigned to the same classroom this year, which has been nice. I'm going to apply to Kyoto University myself, actually."
"What do you want to study?" Mitsuru asks.
"I think I want to be a teacher," Takeba says. "Maybe in composition, like Toriumi-sensei."
"I think you would be very good at it." As she speaks it, she realizes she means it.
Takeba is silent for a moment, studying patterns she draws in the sand with her toes. "It's hard," she says quietly. "I miss Minato."
Mitsuru recalls that Takeba and Arisato were close. She reaches out and rests her hand on top of Takeba's. "I think we all do," she replies.
"It's just—it's not fair." Takeba shakes her head. "We all would have sacrificed for it. Why is he the only one who was taken? Were the rest of us—were we not good enough?"
She has spent hours pondering the same question. Did her dedication waver? Did she somehow shrink back from the final test? "I don't know," she says. "I've wondered, too."
Takeba scoots a little closer to her on the bench, close enough that Mitsuru can smell the scent she wears. The playful breeze ruffles Takeba's hair, sending it fluttering into her eyes. "He didn't even get to enjoy it," she says, slightly muffled. "We all forgot, and then he was just—"
Mitsuru squeezes her hand, not knowing what else to say. "But we are still here," she says after a while. "His sacrifice let us go forward."
Takeba half-shrugs.
"Yukari," Mitsuru says, and Takeba looks up, nearly as startled as Mitsuru herself at the use of her first name.
They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, before Takeba leans forward to kiss her.
Her mouth is soft, and faintly fruit-tasting. Mitsuru laces her fingers through Takeba's, and leans closer to her. For a moment, the world seems to fly away on the summer breeze.
When they break apart, Takeba smiles, and tilts her head forward to rest her forehead on Mitsuru's shoulder. Mitsuru drapes an arm around her waist, a bit awkwardly, but it feels like the right thing to do.
Maybe she doesn't need words after all.
Rating: G
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Notes: Written for
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Wordcount: 1225
Summary: Mitsuru doesn't have the right words for Yukari--but maybe that doesn't matter.
Beta: None
Mitsuru paces down the upper hallway of the house in Yakushima. Outside, the August heat is thick and wet against her skin, though at least inside the house it is cooler. She checks her watch for the sixth time in four minutes and is annoyed with herself for the irrational behaviour. She has work she could be doing; she ought to be studying, or at the very least reviewing the latest spreadsheets that Takahashi-san has sent her. Yet she paces the house like an eager child, anxious for their arrival.
She hears the car pull up in the drive, and forces herself not to careen headlong down the stairs to greet them. To be honest she is surprised that they all accepted her invitation; she had thought that perhaps they would be too busy.
She descends the stairs as the maid admits them to the house. Iori and Amada are engaged in some manner of contest that appears to relate to one of the hand-held games they are both fond of, with Yamagishi playing referee. It is so normal that for a moment, she could almost believe they were back in the dormitory—
Except that one of their number is missing.
"Mitsuru!" Takeba, at least, seems happy enough to see her, waving cheerfully as she approaches.
"Hey, Mitsuru-senpai!" Iori leaves off his argument with Amada to greet her. "How's it going?"
"Welcome," Mitsuru says. She nods to Yoshino, who is gazing around the room as though she wants to sketch everything. "I've arranged rooms for all of you."
"Hey, thanks for inviting us back!" Iori says. Mitsuru notices the way he reaches out his hand for Yoshino's, and the way their fingers intertwine.
"Your kindness is appreciated," Aigis says. Mitsuru notices that she has grown better at modulating her electronic voice to sound more human. Except for the faint stilted formality of her speech, she could be any high school senior.
Akihiko greets her quietly, and she smiles back. It is good to have so many of the old SEES teem in one place. Perhaps Takahashi-san is right, and she does still need these small breaks to keep her focus.
She has the maids show them to their rooms, and checks in with the cook to ensure that dinner will be ready on time. Being the hostess is an exciting challenge; there are so many moving parts to check, so many details to pursue, but the end result is quite worth it. They are important skills for her to hone before she takes full control of the Kirijo Group, and at least here she will not risk her family's reputation if she should misstep, only subject herself to gentle teasing.
~*~
She receives a text message around eleven thirty, when the group has divided to pursue their own interests. It is from Takeba, and says "Meet me at the beach?"
She is curious, and she slips quietly out of her own house (strange, that it belongs to her instead of to her father) and walks down to the beach. Takeba is standing, hands clasped behind her, and staring up at the sky. The moon is just shy of new, a faint white crescent against a backdrop of stars.
"Hey," Takeba says, turning to face her.
"You wished to meet with me?" Mitsuru falls back on professionalism, since she is unsure what tone this encounter should take.
"Yeah." Takeba tucks light brown hair behind her ear. "I thought—I mean, it's been a while since we could talk. I thought maybe you could use a friend."
She starts to defend herself, to protest that of course she has friends—but that is not what Takeba means. Mitsuru crosses the sand to sit on the edge of the bench her father had installed for her mother years before. "It is appreciated," she says awkwardly.
Takeba perches on the bench next to her, eyes bright and curious like a bird's. "So? How have you been?" she asks.
"Busy," Mitsuru admits with a laugh. "Takahashi-san has been running the day-to-day business of the Group. He said it was important for me to go to university and spend some time experiencing the world, so that I can better lead the Group in the future. So I am getting my degree in business at Kyoto University, and have been working for the Group during my free hours. I told Takahashi-san I wanted to spend some time in each department at every level, so that I would have a good understanding of the Group as a whole." She laces her fingers together in her lap. "So far it is interesting, although I confess I had no idea of the minutiae that goes into the lowest level of corporate work."
"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you weren't busy all the time," Takeba replies. For all that her words are playful, they also sound a little sad.
"Very likely not," Mitsuru agrees. "How is your senior year going? I have been a poor correspondent, I am sorry to say."
"I'm captain of the archery club," Takeba says. "Junpei, Aigis, Fuuka and I were assigned to the same classroom this year, which has been nice. I'm going to apply to Kyoto University myself, actually."
"What do you want to study?" Mitsuru asks.
"I think I want to be a teacher," Takeba says. "Maybe in composition, like Toriumi-sensei."
"I think you would be very good at it." As she speaks it, she realizes she means it.
Takeba is silent for a moment, studying patterns she draws in the sand with her toes. "It's hard," she says quietly. "I miss Minato."
Mitsuru recalls that Takeba and Arisato were close. She reaches out and rests her hand on top of Takeba's. "I think we all do," she replies.
"It's just—it's not fair." Takeba shakes her head. "We all would have sacrificed for it. Why is he the only one who was taken? Were the rest of us—were we not good enough?"
She has spent hours pondering the same question. Did her dedication waver? Did she somehow shrink back from the final test? "I don't know," she says. "I've wondered, too."
Takeba scoots a little closer to her on the bench, close enough that Mitsuru can smell the scent she wears. The playful breeze ruffles Takeba's hair, sending it fluttering into her eyes. "He didn't even get to enjoy it," she says, slightly muffled. "We all forgot, and then he was just—"
Mitsuru squeezes her hand, not knowing what else to say. "But we are still here," she says after a while. "His sacrifice let us go forward."
Takeba half-shrugs.
"Yukari," Mitsuru says, and Takeba looks up, nearly as startled as Mitsuru herself at the use of her first name.
They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, before Takeba leans forward to kiss her.
Her mouth is soft, and faintly fruit-tasting. Mitsuru laces her fingers through Takeba's, and leans closer to her. For a moment, the world seems to fly away on the summer breeze.
When they break apart, Takeba smiles, and tilts her head forward to rest her forehead on Mitsuru's shoulder. Mitsuru drapes an arm around her waist, a bit awkwardly, but it feels like the right thing to do.
Maybe she doesn't need words after all.