icequeenly: (Default)
|โ™•| Mitsuru Kirijo ([personal profile] icequeenly) wrote2023-08-15 04:05 pm
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whatsamada: (Hydrochloride)

Let me know if this is okay!

[personal profile] whatsamada 2023-08-15 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[All things considered, Ken knew this was probably a bad idea. However, at the same time, he knew that he couldn't refuse his senpai. Not when she was curious about this 'sushi pizza'. That said, he really didn't know how to make this.

Was it simply just rice, fish, and some bread? He didn't know as he gave a long sigh in the longue. Looking at the computer, scrolling information about this was a lot more difficult than he thought.]
nagano: (but you're still in my mind)

third years must suffer

[personal profile] nagano 2023-08-15 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ November 6, 2009. 21:43.

In the lower levels of one of the Kirijo Group's laboratories, a few scientists lead Mitsuru down a hallway. They offer many hurried apologies as they walk. After all, the girl who they're guiding has just lost her father and is in the process of taking control over the company he once ran, yet here they are preparing to push another responsibility onto her. Mitsuru's been given a manila folder full of information on someone with a familiar nameโ€”someone who, quite soon, will be hers to manage.

Kaito Nagano. A third year at Gekkoukan, and a longtime Iwatodai resident. Through elementary and middle school he was a hot-blooded but likeable delinquent. The kind of troublemaker who stuck his neck out for other kids and was considered reliable by those who looked past the fact that he was constantly stirring the pot.

That changed by the time he entered high school. The Kaito that Mitsuru is more likely acquainted with is the taciturn and severe Botany Club president who glares at her with some one-sided ire every time they pass each other in the halls. He never goes out of his way to attack her, but his gaze has made it clear that he has some sort of hangup with her. The files she's been asked to flip through while traversing the halls should offer more context.

The Kaito that she and the scientists are approaching is a Persona Userโ€”one who had been under Shuji Ikutsuki's "care" for the last three years. Notes on the front page suggest he's just one of Ikutsuki's many experiments; another soldier, another layer of insurance in his plans. Not the first by far, and unfortunately, not the last.

There's much more in his file regarding detailed tests and their results as well as behavioral observations, but one note that was highlighted is the fact that Kaito's family (a brother, parents, and grandfather) have all fallen under Apathy Syndrome and have been cared for by the Kirijo Group since Ikutsuki took him in.

Eventually, the group reaches a door near the end of the hallway, and inside... ]




[ Within a sterile white room that feels more like a cell than a living space, Kaito lays in bed in blue pajamas. His left arm from the elbow down is locked in a cast, and with his right he's reading some kind of book. The only other signs that his room isn't vacant are a rack of uniforms and casual clothes in one corner, his book bag hanging off a post at the end of his bed, and a night stand with a small, slender case propped open on it.

As Mitsuru and the scientists enter, the redhead will likely notice the Evoker sitting polished inside the box. Kaito turns his head towards the scientists as if to greet them, but his lips purse shut the moment he lays eyes on Mitsuru. He slowly kicks his legs off the bed to sit up. ]


The hell is this? Where's Ikutsuki? [ A beat. He squints past the StuCo president. ] ...You're not his cronies. What's going on?

[ The lead scientist among the group clears his throat. ]

"Ikutsuki-san is no longer with us. Starting today, you'll be reassigned to SEES and put under the direct supervision of Miss Kirijo."

[ His voice is a little shaky, as if he's nervous to be speaking directly to the third year. He and the other scientists have had the time to pore over his files, and the trepidation in their eyes hints that they think they're talking to a barely-restrained attack dog rather than a teenager. Kaito bristles at the mention of Mitsuru, and now the whole group's being scrutinized.

After a moment, he slowly asks: ]
Then, are the terms and conditions of my indentured servitude changing? Even if I'm going to be working under my enemy, will you still be handling my family's medical expenses?

[ Sharp golds lock to Mitsuru's auburn. His entire body is tense, like he's ready to spring out of his seat and go for her neckโ€”yet his voice remains level as he awaits a reply. ]
enteloki: dresspheres @ tumblr (pic#16965401)

my many condolences

[personal profile] enteloki 2024-02-01 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
[Life moves in cycles for most - blurs, blanks and vivid flashes intertwined in a cacophony of experiences that make up someone's existence.

His was blurs and blanks, overwhelming muk in murky waves and apathy that pushed it forward. Moments of reprieve that feel like he's stuck in a madman's dream and crashes of reality that remind him it can't be the case.

So he can't really connect the dots between point a and b, when there's never been a clear place to put down those roots, and figure out when things started to work. Can't peg the moment clarity that became the norm or figure out how in the series of rushed meetings, clipped conversations, fights and shared goals that made things end up-

With Akechi laying on his on the living room floor of their shared unit, face propped up with one arm and the other watching an unsubtitled tutorial in a rapidly spoken language he can't place. The clip is shaky, cloudy, and at a resolution that feels suited for the early 2000s, not whatever year this is.

He's turning this situation into something more manageable though - making a metaphorical mental hitlist. The 'build your own' furniture site that he's assured is closer to black market than retail and the salesperson there who gave him a look before saying he should hire out the installer at the top. Akira makes a surprise appearance because why not. Number three this time though - that's progress.

A finger presses against the rewind button again to try and glean out the bullshit on this darkened screen.

The mess around him is organized. Somewhat. Different panels strewn on the floor in varying sizes, nails and bolts organized neatly on a coffee table behind him, and the inky mess of an instruction booklet that met its fate during a well timed downpour.
]

Perhaps it's too much to ask that the internet provide something useful. [Rewind. Brighten. Playback speed 0.5.] It seems it's only good for manipulating the public and getting engagement on food blogs. What a shame.

[Which is a super normal reaction to have when trying to put a bookcase together from a shady market dealer. Very normal. He's doing great.]