2025-11-20: An Island
- Log: An Island
- Cast: Mitsuru Kirijo, Takeharu Kirijo
- OOC Date: November 20, 2025
- IC Date: August 14, 2012
- Summary: A conversation on the truth and on trust, between a father and his daughter.
"Ah, father."
Mitsuru Kirijo had initially been reticent to go to Yakushima, especially when she learned her father would be there. It wasn't reluctance to see him, however; it was respect. She didn't want to intrude on him -- not on his precious vacation time. She felt she would be a bother.
That didn't mean, however, she did not want to see him.
She frames it as coincidence, running into him as passes through the estate's central great room. Seated in one of the snug chesterfields dotting the living space, book in hand (Osamu Dazai's The Setting Sun) -- as if she had just settled in for some late night reading when he happens to pass buy, still dressed in an impeccably three-piece affair in the middle of summer. She isn't sure why she does; maybe, she reasons with herself, it will be less of an imposition if she just happens into him, rather than actively seeking to infringe upon his time.
Either way, it achieves the result she wants: Takeharu Kirijo, on his way out of the estate, comes to a slow stop just four and a half feet off from where Mitsuru sits. She offers him a small smile; the situation may be engineered, but her happiness to see him is not.
"It's been a while," she offers, in that polite, ineffably formal way of hers. Even - perhaps especially - with her father, it just feels more natural. Less... presumptive. "I'm happy to see that you're doing well."
Her father watches her with that lone, dark eye. She hesitates for a moment, though not visibly, before she adds, "I hope our presence hasn't been too overbearing. Speaking of, I saw a rather unusual girl at the beaches near the estate..."
Pulling aside his jacket hem enough to tuck his hand into the pocket of his slacks, Takeharu's brows furrow. He's still silent for a moment; it leaves Mitsuru internally uncertain, wondering if she overstepped--
"Our guests," he says abruptly, voice level yet somehow commanding in a way Mitsuru always admired. "They're residents of the dorm, correct?"
"Ah. Yes," exhales Mitsuru, shutting her book, the very picture of cool composure. "I apologize for bringing such a crowd. I was hesitant, but the Chairman was quite insistent... I promise, we won't overstay our welcome."
"Ikutsuki was right," is Takeharu's firm counter -- and it inspires a blink on the part of his daughter. "They've worked hard. You've all worked hard. Far harder than anyone should ask students to work. You all deserve this time."
"... Ah, I..." she hesitates again, this time more visibly; as much as she wished she had what she perceives as the absolute composure of her father, she still always feels she falls so utterly short of the mark in moments like these.
"... I see. ... Yes, I suppose you're right."
"And yet I hear you told them the truth behind the incident. But not all of them."
Mitsuru's eyes widen fractionally. She grips just that more tightly to The Setting Sun.
"I... am sorry, sir," is all she can think to say. "I was caught off-guard, and..."
"That isn't the issue. Why did you only tell some of them? Why have you been hiding it at all?"
Try as she might, Mitsuru can't meet her father's stern gaze; there's nothing damning within that stare, and yet she feels the bitter sting of reproach all the same. Her shoulders hunch inward.
"I... wasn't hiding it..." she tries to insist. "I -- I had no intention of keeping them in the dark. There were just... ... extenuating circumstances..."
"There are no 'extenuating circumstances' in situations like these," he corrects. "We shouldn't even have to ask these children to risk their lives for us. Any of you. The least we can do for them is not let them fight, blindfolded in the dark." His tone is simple. Level. Mitsuru flinches all the same, feeling the weight of her own failure.
"... I..."
"There's a girl in your group named Takeba, isn't there? Are those your 'extenuating circumstances'?"
Mitsuru sucks in a breath, but does not answer. The silence alone is confirmation enough, and she knows it.
"... I've told you time and again: none of the blame is yours. You must stop putting all this squarely on your shoulders."
"But--"
"Mitsuru."
The invocation of her name stops her protests in her tracks. The hard cover of her book resists the inward press of her tensing thumbs.
"That brings me to my next question: you accessed our database, didn't you?"
"!"
Surprise overtakes her, but she doesn't protest. It's not entirely a surprise that they were found out, and her gambit seemed to work, at least: using her credentials meant it wouldn't be traced back to Yamagishi. But still -- she feels blindsided, in the wake of everything else, forced to simply keep quiet so as to not inadvertently compromise the protection she offered the SEES Navigator.
"So why didn't you ask me directly?"
"..."
It's an echo of the subtle accusation she directed towards Fuuka, Yukari and Shinjiro when they confronted her, Reiya and the Chairman. The irony is not lost on her. But what can she say?
That she's trying to root out a traitor, and she doesn't know who to trust?
That she isn't even sure she can tell her own father?
That she's afraid of what he might say?
... That she's afraid of what might happen to him if he got dragged into this ever-deepening web of supernatural intrigue?
Takeharu watches the familiar sight of his quiet daughter, churning through a countless list of possibilities and approaches he could scarcely imagine, before the only words that come from her are a simple,
"I... I'm sorry, father."
He shuts his lone eye, and sighs.
"Bring them here. All of them. I've already made preparations."
"--Preparations--?"
"They deserve to hear the truth. All of it. And I, for one, have no intention of hiding it from them. /Any/ of them."
"But father, I..."
As if he knows what she means to protest, he observes, off-handed yet somehow still pointed: "For Takeba's daughter to awaken to the Potential... it must be fate."
And with that, he starts to leave once more. He pauses near the door, however, to look over his shoulder at Mitsuru. At the inheritor of the Kirijo legacy.
... At his daughter.
"... 'Two in harmony surpass one in perfection.' Our family's guiding principle. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
"... No, of course not, I just..."
"You must learn to trust in others, Mitsuru. There are things in this world that cannot be accomplished alone, no matter how many sacrifices you make."
And then, he turns away and opens the door.
"Bring them to my office."
The door shuts. And Mitsuru, still seated on that chair, draws The Setting Sun against her chest, head hanging as she hugs that aging classic close, a familiar voice echoing unprompted and unwanted in her thoughts.
That's not fair to any of us, but especially not yourself.
You're not an island.
"... yes, sir."