Pyrite

Chapter 1: Paradiso

The train doors slid shut behind him with a dismal click, echoed by his shoe heels a moment later as he paced to the edge of the balcony overlooking Port Island Station. Gideon laced his fingers together and leaned against the railing. His eyes skipped out over the buildings and the bloody draperies hung about them; past the coffins and that horrible great moon hanging in the sky just above.

It might not have boded well, but the first thought to cross his normally stoic mind upon gazing at his new city was ". . . transitory."

But then few things weren't, and he laughed, shook his head, and deposited his discreet music player into his vest pocket. It was a nice night to walk and listen to the moon. Perhaps she'd have more than usual to say tonight. Certainly, the populace wouldn't. Not within the witching hour.

His new abode was a dorm set aside from the others for no reason he could immediately determine - the neighborhoods in the area weren't bad enough to warrant navigating around them, and no affiliation was posted. Only a sign noting "KIRIJO DORM" informed him that he had, in fact, reached his destination. With a helpless shrug, Gideon slipped inside, noting the unlocked door and taking some faint hope from it, despite the warnings of his depressingly-accurate intuition.

The girl inside, halfway across the open lobby, immediately validated his hunch, because openly-displayed thigh holsters were a sign that the law of the jungle had taken the reins from society for the moment. Her head had swung around the moment the door had opened, and her stare reminded him of a wounded bird's; frightened and vicious, all adrenaline and electricity. Gideon had always been blessed with a formidable stare, and apparently that tipped the scales, because her hand darted for the holster with more agility than he'd have credited her with.

Then a voice barked "Takeba!" and the girl flinched reflexively, before glancing back at the stairs in the back corner of the room. Another woman descended the stairs - no girl, from the confidence in her step and the lash of command in her voice. A split second of indecision passed, and then the witching hour ended before his eyes.

As the palettes of the room washed out their greenish shades and returned to a more comforting brown scheme, the newcomer folded her arms and regarded Gideon with an intimidating gaze. "We weren't expecting you so late." she said rather plainly in English, a statement somewhere between recrimination and apology. "I'm Mitsuru Kirijo, a student living in this dorm."

Her eyes flicked over him once with mathematical precision. He knew what she saw - a young man standing comfortably in a black silk outfit, understated gold cuffs on either wrist and a face cut faintly with amusement. Gideon's family did not believe in making anything less than the best impression possible. It was a sentiment he agreed with, and while it marked him out clearly from the crowds he had been forced to navigate through since coming to Japan, the space it granted him in turn was gratifying.

"Gideon Matteson." He responded in like fashion with an acknowledging nod, appreciating the courtesy of a greeting in his own language and culture. It wasn't something he had encountered much yet, despite the assurances of the exchange counselor. "My apologies for arriving late - there was a problem when I disembarked the train and it delayed me a short time."

To be precise, the witching hour had shorted the train doors, and despite their obvious ability to remain cognizant during it, he had no intention of bringing up such a subject so soon in an introduction - particularly one between two heirs such as this.

Kirijo's gaze weighed him for a moment, then flicked over to the Takeba girl, who had yet to calm down. Gideon couldn't honestly blame her. The witching hour was as bad as it got.

"This is Takeba Yukari." Kirijo said, switching over to Japanese for the girl's benefit, although she lacked the blank look of incomprehension that usually appeared on a person's face when they were confronted with an unlearned language. "She lives here too - she's a junior at Gekkoukan."

Perhaps the mundane nature of the conversation soothed her nerves - Takeba's hand drifted away from the holster and she graced him with an awkward smile. "Hey." She said, uncomfortably.

Gideon's amused trebled. A jagged look of amusement flicked over his face and was gone. "Howdy there, Takeba-san. You have my name already?" he greeted amiably, and watched her blink at the sudden, rustic twang of his accent, straightening in confusion - and losing any hint of nerves in her incredulity. Kirijo's brows arched as well, although she didn't comment on it. He returned the courtesy by not asking about the identical pistol strapped to her own thigh. It was alarming that neither of them had any obvious safeties, although he couldn't exactly make sure without seeming gauche, considering their location. He made a note to ask circumspectly later.

More importantly, though . . . "Forgive me, but am I in quite the right building? Considering the population sample, this probably isn't the boy's dorm." Gideon asked, the backcountry twang vanishing like old lightning.

Takeba exhaled, her mouth quirking in humor. "No, it's . . . sort of complicated. The short explanation is that it's co-ed housing."

Kirijo nodded in agreement. "That's the gist of it. I'll explain more later, but for now it's late enough. Takeba, can you show him to his room?"

The other girl nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Gideon doubted she liked being commandeered as a house guide. It sounded vaguely annoying. "Alright. Matteson-san, if you would follow me?"

Trading a nod with Kirijo, he followed Takeba up a flight of stairs and exited onto the second floor, walking all the way to the end of the hallway. "Here it is." she said, turning to hand him a key. "Try not to lose that - Kirijo-san has to get them replaced personally and that's always a mess . . . any questions?"

He glanced at the key and took it - real brass, an oddball choice. He stored the fact away for later. "Yes." Gideon stated, face straight as the North Star. "But I suspect inane questions will annoy Kirijo-san more than you, so I'll bide my time until the time to strike has come."

Another huff of amusement escaped Takeba, and she relaxed fractionally - as he'd thought, she was more comfortable speaking casually. "You'd be right about that, but I wouldn't recommend testing her . . . but, can I ask you something?"

Without even looking at her, Gideon could sense the quiet gathering of tension again. He wondered if her hand was drifting near to those pistols the women here so casually wore.

"Did . . . something strange happen while you were walking here from the station?" Takeba asked quietly, sounding almost ashamed and yet not - somehow accusing as well.

"You mean the midnight hour - the witching hour." Gideon answered openly, and watched her entire body lock up in fear. It brought a bemused smile to his lips. He loved answering questions like that.

"You . . . know about it too?" Takeba asked, hand now openly on the handle of the weapon, probably to counteract the sour tang of panic he could she flooding in behind her eyes.

Gideon carefully raised his hands before in the universal gesture for patience, stepping back to give her the personal space she probably needed right now. "I do. It's a difficult kind of thing to ignore when your tea suddenly becomes a cup of blood. Tasted horrible."

She stared at him for a moment then reflexively glanced down to her thigh, jerking her hand away when she noticed where it had drifted. "Well - I guess." she said slowly, and grimaced. "Look I'm sorry if I - if I scared you or anything; this thing can't shoot. It just looks like a gun."

Gideon blinked bemusedly. "I suppose that's reassuring." he noted. "We're both exhausted, Takeba-san, and it's long past midnight for the both of us. Let's get some rest and we'll talk about tomorrow."

She tried to offer him an apologetic smile - it came out sickly and strained, and she brushed back at a loose strand of hair as she did. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. I - I guess I'll talk to you later, Matteson-san. Goodnight."

He sketched a partial bow, watching the edge of her mouth quirk tiredly as he did so. "Until another creepy midnight, then. Sleep well, Takeba-san." The glimpse he got of the tension and fear partially leaving her expression as he stepped into his room was worth the theatrics.

The door closed, and Gideon stood for a second, listening to Takeba's footsteps fading away into the hallway, before he sighed and leaned against the door, scrubbing at his forehead with irritation.

"I adore suspicion." he said tiredly.

Gideon had no luck sleeping - jetlag ensured that effort was pyrrhic at best, leaving him irritated and grouchy. He wasn't sure what hour it was when he wandered down into the lobby to make a cup of coffee, but it wasn't any hour consecrated by God as day. Perhaps it was the smell that woke Kirijo, but when she wandered down the stairs and paused upon seeing him in the lobby, she didn't look entirely surprised.

"Matteson-san." She said nodding to him. Wordlessly, he offered her a cup of the faintly steaming beverage - she glanced at it for a moment, then took it, adding two sugars to sweeten the taste, and quietly breathing in the relaxing scent that had likely marked many mornings for her while the sugar dissolved.

Gideon took a sip of the coffee. A faintly disgruntled look flickered over his face. "This is why I prefer to avoid flights." he said finally. "Jetlag ruins the taste of coffee."

A hint of a smile curved Kirijo's lips. "A problem I have seldom faced, but it does have it's trials."

He nodded, noting mentally that morning seemed to not damp her effortless grace at all. It was admirable, and a bit daunting. Not for the first time he wondered precisely how her father was taking this plan - Gideon's had set forward the proposal, and the elder Kirijo was nothing if not unreadable. He had rarely met anyone with a poker face quite so polished as his own. Perhaps the eye patch helped.

"Kirijo-san . . ." he began, and then stopped as something infinitesimal altered in her expression. Following his intuition, he began again with the English variant - "Miss Kirijo . . ."

Her face relaxed fractionally. Being addressed by a name so close to her father's likely bothered her; Gideon appreciated anew his unlikely gift for intuition. This was going to be difficult enough for the both of them without continually reminding Kirijo of her father.

" . . . I'd prefer to keep things amiable between the two of us - if you like, I'll manufacture an argument and return to the States. None of it would reflect on you or yours - this sort of arrangement is odd even for our respective stations, I'd think."

Kirijo didn't immediately reply - instead she watched the thin tangles of steam rising from her coffee, eyes unreadable. It appeared to be a family trait - the poker face, that is.

"It'd start sooner or later." was her eventual reply. "And your family is the most reasonable choice."

"Economically speaking, perhaps." Gideon noted quietly.

Kirijo turned her head slightly to regard him with one eye. He offered a light shrug and sipped from his coffee - black, and strong enough to kill passing geese.

"It's a better option than many others." She finally admitted, a real expression crossing her face at last - distaste. For what, he couldn't say. He hoped it wasn't his coffee. Kirijo took another sip from her mug and turned to look at him evenly. "I prefer to be called Mitsuru."

"Miss Mitsuru, then." Gideon replied. He closed his eyes for a moment, then swallowed the rest of his coffee with a single gulp. He got it all down, although he paid for it in dignity as it burned his throat and he winced.

Mitsuru arched an eyebrow at him. He grimaced and raised a hand in surrender.

"Try not to do that." She said, amused, and Gideon acquiesced.

When Yukari came downstairs it was approaching something like actual daylight and Gideon had already prepared a light breakfast - the dorm was somewhat lacking in comestibles, but toast and eggs would only be beyond his skills when chickens finally became extinct. Following the scent of food, she wandered into the small kitchen and paused as she found Gideon and Mitsuru conversing quietly. "Good morning." She offered, glancing at the food. There was another three plates laid out and she was fairly certain no one from outside the dorm was coming in this morning. "Mitsuru-sempai, did you . . . "

Mitsuru shook her head. "Matteson-san did the cooking."

Takeba glanced over at Gideon, who raised a hand in greeting. "I confess, Takeba-san." he said gravely. "The pangs of hunger were too great for one such as I, and innocent beings suffered for my appetite. I pray their spirits find peace in the afterlife, for my stomach certainly found it in theirs."

A burst of laughter abruptly escaped the girl, and she shook her head, grinning, as she took a portion onto her plate and sat across from him. "Good morning to you too, Matteson-san." She took a bite of eggs and smiled in simple pleasure. It was a radiant expression on her face, and transformed her from merely pretty into beautiful. "Mm, and it's good cooking too."

Gideon nodded soberly. "No less to honor the brave chicken's sacrifice."

He paused.

"Bawk-bawk." he added gravely.

Takeba laughed again, and even Mitsuru smiled.

Akihiko treaded into the kitchen not long after Takeba - unlike her, he went straight for the eggs with only a mild wave to acknowledge the existence of others, which merited a mild eye-roll from the girl in question. Gideon regarded the white-haired man currently wolfing down his eggs with a neutral expression, perhaps the same one reserved for foxes who parked themselves near henhouses.

"Akihiko." Mitsuru said flatly. The other man jerked reflexively at the tone of command, and glanced over atthe table. His eyebrows raised when he noticed Gideon. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was sitting next to Mitsuru. Whichever.

It was plain to see that the other man had just finished a workout of some kind - his arms still glistened lightly with sweat - so Gideon skipped most of the formalities and just raised a hand in greeting. "Matteson Gideon. I'll be joining this dorm and Gekkokan in general."

"Good to meet you, Gideon-san." Akihiko replied easily, tearing through his breakfast at a rate that made the foreigner blink in surprise. "You're in my year, right?"

" . . . Yes." Gideon answered. "A bit foolish to switch countries and schools for my senior year, perhaps, but fortune falls where it may. You box?"

Akihiko glanced up, frowning faintly. "How'd you know?"

Gideon gave a thin smile. "Bandages on your head."

Akihiko snorted in amusement and took his dishes to the sink, washing them promptly, which earned him bonus points in Gideon's book. Takeba shook her head, a smile more or less permanently etched on her face since she sat down at the table that morning. "You two will get along just fine." she predicted.

"I suspect as much." Gideon replied and glanced at the clock warily. While it wasn't near to time to go, he had already shown up late last night, and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

"Don't worry." Takeba said, correctly interpreting his glance and its meaning, "we've got an hour to go before school opens this morning. And it's only a five-minute walk, in any case."

"However, for me it's time I need to set the environment for my speech." Mitsuru said, as she carried her plates to the sink. Akihiko took them, receiving a nod of gratitude, and the Kirijo heir gracefully walked over to where she'd set her purse. "Matteson-san, I hope your first day finds you suitably welcomed to Gekkokan."

Gideon raised one brow as Mitsuru walked out of the kitchen; it was just a hypothesis at this point, but the more people she had to concern herself with in a room, the more she seemed to withdraw into the impenetrable confidence of the leader's role. She'd probably not be talkative during school hours.

"You're getting along well with her." Takeba said in a soft tone. He looked at her sharply - was that wonder he heard in the younger woman's voice? "How'd you manage that?"

"Similar circumstances." Gideon answered wryly. Noting the seeds of confusion starting to take root in her expression, he explained, "My family - my father in particular - owns and operates a large number of quarries and refining plants in the States. They do a great deal of business providing the Kirijo group with the raw materials used to produce their products, including some rather rare minerals."

He frowned slightly, folding his hands in front of his face. "You might call my presence here a sounding-out for a vertical merger between our respective corporations."

Takeba blinked at the sudden flood of information. "So - wait - you're here for a business deal with Mitsuru-senpai?"

Gideon smiled grimly. "To be exact, it's more akin to representative negotiation between our factions, because Mitsuru-san's father does not get along with mine." Too much alike, to be exact. "We're the intermediaries."

He took a sip of coffee, having brewed another mug for himself after Takeba stole the last of his previous one. "And that's the gist of it."

Takeba stared at him, and even Akihiko stopped washing dishes to pin him with his gaze.

Then the boxer shrugged. "Eh." he said, and went back to washing dishes. "Too early for this."

AN: It was noted to me recently that perhaps a bit of variety would do me good in writing, so I've returned to fanfiction in order to hit the sounding board. I've very rarely written in this style before - hopefully I'll learn a bit more about niche writing techniques like 'dialogue' or 'plot coherency' along the way. I hear they're useful.

For my older readers, please note this is the Persona 3: FES universe; the plot of the original production is very tangled, and, as usual, I don't plan on explaining a great deal of it. But then, I won't be using much of the original either - starting with the fact I refuse to include the Fool arcana in my story, because it's ridiculous.

For new readers - howdy. I'll try not to weird you out too much here.

-Gleam