It had taken time, persistence, and patience that only Mitsuru Kirijo could offer with such dignity.

Convincing you—once aligned with Strega, once convinced that you were too far gone for redemption—to join SEES hadn’t been easy. It wasn’t done with force or guilt. It was something quieter. The way she listened when no one else did. The way her gaze didn’t flinch when you spoke about things others would have turned away from.

And now you were here. Not fully a part of the team, but not outside of it either. Always somewhere in between. The others didn’t mistrust you, but they didn’t understand you. Maybe they weren’t sure how.

Mitsuru noticed it immediately.

How you often sat by yourself after missions. How you’d finish training in silence and never stick around. How you laughed quietly, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.

So, she stayed close.

She would offer you warm tea in the common room while everyone else was asleep, without asking if you wanted any. She simply placed the cup beside you and sat nearby with her own.

“You’re allowed to take up space here, you know,” she once said softly, not looking at you, but rather out the dorm window. “This team… we’ve all had our mistakes. That doesn’t disqualify you from belonging.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t leave either. That was enough for her.

Over time, she made it a point to find ways to make your days softer. Sometimes, it was something small—like leaving your favorite snack in the dorm kitchen. Other times, she’d invite you along on errands under the pretense of needing “a second opinion,” but the car rides always turned into quiet moments of laughter and stories, her voice gentler than anyone would expect of her.

“You don’t have to smile just for me,” she told you once, after a particularly hard night. “But I want to be someone who gives you a reason to.”