How to Move On
I.
An icy hand gripped my shoulder, chilling me with her metallic manicured nails as she made a grave announcement to my second-year class: "Looks like Kujikawa and Shirogane will not be continuing with us. What a shame, isn't it, class?"
She said this with a devilish grin and a grip that tightened with ferocity. Kashiwagi, a teacher who spent her downtime inspecting her makeup, signed up for the Yasogami High beauty contest last year - the only teacher among students - and lost to…
Well, anyway, her disappointment at losing is simply overblown.
"Well girls," Kashiwagi said, burning her stare through the back of my hat. "Any last words?"
A hesitant pause. I had no sincere, didactic speech that could enhance this grueling situation. I transferred here so recently and spent most of my time raptured by last year's Inaba murders. The students were not looking toward me anyway. They were exchanging faces, mourning the idea of the "teen idle" and the "detective prince". Only Kanji-kun faced forward, shoulders slumped, eyebrows knitted. Perhaps I could speak as if he and Rise-san were the only ones in the room?
In came Rise-san to save me from the humiliation. "No fear, guys!" she said, giving her voice the Risette bubble. "I'm busy with my comeback, but I will remember you all. Keep cheering for me, okay?" She winked and a collective swoon rose from the students.
"Bro, she was totally looking at me when she said that."
"Shut up. We both know that she wouldn't date you in a million years."
"Naoto leaving and Risette, too? What point is there going to school with the two hottest girls gone?"
Kashiwagi's grip now was so firm that it would surely leave a print.
"That's enough of a spotlight. Take your seats," said Kashiwagi.
"But Naoto didn't get to say goodbye," said Rise-san.
"I said, Take your seat!"
We spent our final lunch break together. Rise-san, Kanji-kun and I loitered on the rooftop where we less and less frequently met the third years.
"Boy, I'm glad we're getting this over with. The last day is always so tough," said Rise-san. Kanji-kun and I shared a silent agreement with her. We knew about hard goodbyes. Every time I think about the old Investigation Team - and our leader - I'm instantly and feverishly nostalgic.
"Um," Kanji stood to take the floor, which simultaneously meant he was serious and also nervous. He gripped the air into a fist, flexing his biceps, his abs, and his pecs all at once. His whole body was piecing the air, preparing himself with the one gift he never had: a way with words.
"Rise. Naoto," he began. "I'm gonna… Well, what I'm trying to say is… Ah! You better just friggin' come back sometimes, you hear?!"
"Oh Kanji," cooed Rise-san, using her you're-a-mental-patient tone. "Are you trying to say that you will miss us?"
Her manner made me realize that now, right as I was leaving, wasn't the time to be sentimental. I decided against telling Kanji-kun that I'd miss him too, and I even intended on coming back from time to time. But who knew, really? My work could sweep me anywhere at a second's notice.
"Naoto-kun," said Rise-san, momentarily bored with teasing Kanji-kun. She radiated with excitement. Moving from city to city and being adored was good for her. "We're both going to be in Okina City often, right? We could meet up for shopping. Or to see a movie."
"How about we just have coffee?" I said. Rise-san doesn't know that I have a personal shopper arrange my wardrobe. I handle most of my affairs, but shopping for clothing is one of those necessities I avoid.
Kanji-kun thunked one foot forward. "What? So you're just going to run off and be girlfriends? Don't just leave me here."
"You'll be fiiiiine," said Rise-san. "Without us, you'll have plenty of time to study English or knit or whatever." She flashed her idol smile.
"Hey. How'd you know about-"
"I saw your English textbook. Doesn't take a detective to figure that out."
I noticed the textbook, too. That, and his now-perfect attendance, his steadily rising grades, and his short circuiting concentration during class lectures. Kanji-kun was far from the blundering, hot-headed Kanji I met while investigating the Inaba murders. Sometime after our first interview, Teddie told me everything about Kanji-kun's Shadow. Some details I attribute to Teddie's interpretation ("He is bear-y obviously a queer"), but the bathhouse and the towel garment were unavoidable details. Kanji-kun actually did "come out," but about his textile passions. Like me, who so desperately wanted to be regarded as strong, as a grown up, as a man - Kanji too wanted to be strong, despite his natural love for cute animals, cloths, and dyes. Unlike him, however, I have a small and frail frame, one that could never compare to his naturally brawny one. And also unlike him, he would enjoy shopping for my clothes.
During my contemplation, Rise-san had apparently taken her teasing too far. He was now squatting low as if ready to charge. "Got off my case, dammit! Don't you have something more important to say to me? Like - I don't know - goodbye?!"
Goodbye. I hate that word, which is why I wanted to tell Kanji-kun and everyone else it wasn't goodbye. Let's ban that word from existence. Let's pretend being apart feels no different, and carrying each other in our hearts is just as good. I tell myself that all the time about Yu, but every time I feel farther rather than closer. Not empowered by his remembrance, but back into longing. Let's not forget, I tell myself. Let's always be together. Let's… Let's…
II.
A month later and I was at Public Safety's dummy publishing company in Okina City. If any local asked, I would say I am a secretary to a literary agent, which feels like it could be the truth if Public Safety was really a publishing company. The "literary agent" I work under is Kurowa-san, a square-chinned detective who isolates me and keeps me as his pet. I would be much fonder of Kurowa-san if he managed to appease to my natural curiosity. Instead, he keeps me distant from the other staff and purposely withholds information. Lately I have been reporting to only him.
From what I've gathered, the majority of the staff are fighting against Public Safety's main subject of study right now: the Shadow Operatives. The Kirijo Group's less-than-pristine history gives Public Safety plenty cause to dig through old documents and make a case to bring the new government organization into extinction. I'm not sure why they hate the Shadow Operatives so much, but I speculate that they are afraid of Shadows, blaming the Kirijo Group for their existence in the first place. Blame is easier than addressing the problem. Public Safety can go after the Shadow Operatives in the name of good, but I see it as laziness.
Public Safety hired me as a detective who has both a Persona and no pre-existing affiliation with the Kirijo Group. Perhaps they would have preferred somebody older, but my publicity from last year's case was attractive. They sent me undercover to investigate the Shadow Operatives. But while my reports remained factual, they also proved the Shadow Operatives are a necessity in world safety. Kurowa-san was unhappy with my profile of Mitsuro Kirijo. Instead of harshly listing her family's sins, I showed her commitment to put others first. I even portrayed her for a brief moment as Christ-like, as shown by her literal crucifixion during the P-1 Climax.
No member of the Investigation Team thinks about the time we spend together as much as I do. My work is like being a film editor in her den. I've watched and re-watched last year's case and this year's incident hundreds of times. I write about it and create diagrams and theories. I read about Jungian Psychology and Tarot Cards. I study the mythical connotations behind each of our Personas. It's fascinating - but my mind is in it full time, even now, and even when everybody else has moved on.
As a side effect, I am more nostalgic than I used to be. As I cite something Yosuke-kun said, I have to remind myself that was months ago. He is not standing next to me, radiating his bright, raw humor. That moment is gone gone gone. Yet I'm living these vivid memories every day.
"How are you doing today, Naoto-kun?" said Kurowa-san, appearing tired. He just came out of several back-to-back meetings where higher-ups were likely upset and very likely upset at him.
I looked up from my notes: a pile of files and my black pocket notebook, all splayed out next to be on a black, leather couch. He could tell today wasn't a good day for me either.
"I would like something more to work on," I said. "As much as I enjoy reading these case files, I've combed through them innumerable times."
"I see," said Kurowa-san, clearly not seeing anything. "Then, why don't you take the day off. Go somewhere. See some friends."
"Go somewhere? But surely there must be some area I've not covered. Some report you'd like me to-"
"That's quite alright. I'm tired. We're both tired. Let's call it a day."
Dojima-san, an old higher-up of mine, was not like this. Like your stereotypical detective, he was compelled to torture himself over some long-closed case, hoping to find something new. I am too young to have the kinds of cases that render me sleepless and an alcoholic, but Kurowa-san was seasoned. He didn't seem the type to tell me to relax.
After insisting some more, I finally took up Kurowa-san's offer and left the office early. Breathing in the fresh air outside, I was suddenly determined not to let nostalgia consume me.
III.
Inaba looked mostly the same. It had only been a month, but I expected the town to look alien. Autumn was showing all over the streets. The days had grown a little dimmer and the clothes a little thicker. I walked through the shopping district and felt tempted to stop into the bookstore. But my hours were limited, so I kept on my way.
My heart pounded to the time of the knocks on my destination's front door. I anticipated his surprised, raised eyebrows as he answered the door, wondering why I would be here and with him out of all people. It's better I be here now - one month gone, while our bonds are still fresh - than months or years.
An elderly lady opened the door. She had clear, intelligent eyes that assessed me and recognized me. "You must be one of Kanji's friends. Naoto-kun, was it? Kanji couldn't stop talking about you when he met you. I'm trying to remember what he said. Something about you being a major-"
"Naoto's here?!" echoed Kanji from deep within the house. "You old hag! What are you telling her?!"
"Oh nothing, dear. Just that she's as pretty up close as you described her."
Pretty? She couldn't have been remembering right.
"Shut up!" bellowed Kanji-kun.. "No one wants your opinion."
He had called her an "old hag" just now and she smiled. This was certainly Kanji's mother. I was relieved seeing her. She would accept Kanji-kun no matter who he was.
Kanji's mother offered that I come in. When I entered the living room, Kanji-kun was still stashing his textile supplies. Being polite, I looked away.
"Beautiful flower arrangement," I said to his mother, gesturing toward a yellow and purple array settled on an end table near the entrance. Then she told me about her love for flowers, how she enjoys making flower prints, and how some varieties can be used to make dyes.
Kanji cleared his throat when he was ready for me. He stood for me as if to be polite, though as always his language said the opposite. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Kanji's mother knew to silently pardon herself from the room. I remained as best composed as I could, watching Kanji's massive mold dominate the tiny space he occupied. His muscles looked like they were constantly shifting, bulky and unaware of their movements. I tried to imagine him with his legs folded on the floor, knitting an ornate hat for winter. Even now, I couldn't.
"With the others busy, I thought you might be lonely," I said. Then, wondering whether or not the next thing was appropriate to say, I said it anyway: "I am lonely, often, myself."
"Oh," said Kanji-kun, his shoulders deflating. "It's just that - well, you've never been here before, and we don't really talk, you know, just you and me."
I didn't know what to say to this.
"But it's fine!" Kanji self-corrected. "I'm glad you're here. I thought you were gone forever and here you are: back! So... how's the detective gig?"
Detective gig? Was all of last year just a gig to Kanji-kun?
"Fine," I said, dashing away all subsequent details I thought of telling him. It truly amounted to "fine."
"Actually," I digressed. "I thought I could help you with your English. I'm well studied: six years of private tutors, and I've read the entire Sherlock Holmes in the original. I'm no professional, but I can help." I sauntered to the living room table and let my knees to the floor. This was to show my intent on staying, though I actually felt like leaving before humiliating myself more.
"You gotta be kidding," said Kanji-kun, but not in a way that cried rejection. "Naoto. That's nice of you to offer and everything. I would like you to, but that's damned too much to ask."
"What do you mean too much to ask?" I said. "I'm right here."
"No! I mean-," he searched for his words. I waited. Often, people can be insecure about speaking their mind. The best treatment is to give them the floor for as long as they need it. Characters like Rise-san and Yosuke-senpai were unskilled in this, which I'm sure makes Kanji-kun even more flustered around them.
"I mean that you're not going to be here for long. I'd rather spend time with you. I can study later. Besides, I'm not bad at English. Don't listen to Rise's 'Moronji' crap. She can can it."
He was right. No "Moronji" lived at this residence, which leads me to my first mistaken assertion I've made during this visit: Kanji-kun does not need help with English. I came to Inaba - to Kanji - with an excuse to see him, when my real reason was because nostalgia, because bonds, because I wanted to.
Kanji-kun has a talent. He makes me see myself clearer. When our Senpai was getting mysterious letters from the killer, all I thought was "Yes, a vital clue!" when Kanji-kun immediately corrected me: we focus on protecting Senpai and his family. I lived to solve puzzles, yet I forget to solve puzzles for the people worth living for.
"You're right, Kanji-kun," I finally said. "We should make the best of our time together."
"Damned right!" said Kanji-kun. "So, can I get you something to drink? You like coffee, was it? Yeah. I remember. Coffee."
"Our Senpai's uncle used to make a good cup at the station," I said, sounding old and idiotic.
"Sorry, Naoto. I pro'lly ain't got the Dojima touch."
"Whatever you make, I'll be pleased," I said. Kanji stared at me for awhile before getting up. Thinking he didn't hear me properly, I repeated: "I would love whatever you make."
I could see Kanji-kun prepare the coffee through the open sliding door. He put on the kettle, ground the beans fresh, and set up a drip. When he returned with two homemade ceramic mugs with floral designs, I couldn't help but to comment, "Impeccable service. You'd make a great employee at the Amagi Inn."
Kanji-kun scoffed. "Yeah? I don't look the part, that's for sure."
That was indisputable. Yet he had a glow about him when he delicately placed the mug in my hands and sat cross-legged across from the table. A savory aroma and warm steam caressed my face
"You do, though" Kanji said. "I can see you as a greeter. All formal and stuff."
"That's not true at all, Kanji-kun. I'd only get in everyone's business." Kanji-kun was rolling his eyes, so I elaborated my point. "Imagine. 'Welcome to the Amagi Inn. May I see your ID, passport, oh, and I'd like to thoroughly inspect your bags.'"
Kanji-kun laughed, the kind that made him lean back, wiggle his shoulders and nod his head. His limbs were loose and relaxed. Perhaps I was welcome here after all.
We both blew on our coffee. He took a sip first, so I knew it was safe to taste. The soothing heat, the intoxicating chocolatey aroma, and the rich molten taste did me in. It was very black and very smooth. Suddenly I wasn't missing Dojima-san anymore.
Kanji-kun resumed our conversation: "Maybe I could look decent enough one day. I've only told Senpai this, but I'll tell you." He paused to take a sip right here. It was an agonizing sip and a dreadful pause. Tell me more, Kanji-kun.
"I've been thinking about taking these rings out and dying my hair to its natural color. While I'm at it, I should stop wearing these wifebeaters and get some real clothes. I've been considering this since I went to the optometrist recently. The dude said I'm seriously nearsighted. I thought I'd look like a dork with glasses, especially the way I look now, so I just strain my eyes out of my skull all the time."
"This makes so much sense, Kanji-kun!" I smiled. "That's why you look so perplexed all the time."
"So you did think I was a moron!" said Kanji, and I laughed despite myself, shaking my head so fast that my hat toppled off. It fell between my legs and I made no effort to retrieve it.
"Where are they?" I said. "Let me see the glasses on you."
"No friggin' way. You'll call me a dork."
When my giggles subsided, I made a play at being serious by looking him straight in the eyes. Deadface. Monotone. "I will not call you a dork."
"Alright, alright," he groaned. Then departed the room, only to quickly return back to the floor with square, black, thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. They were studious, polite, bearing resemblance to my own glasses when I enter the TV world. As he said, the glasses clashed with his entire appearance.
"Hmm," I mused.
"Oh god! It's that bad?!" wailed Kanji.
"Not that bad," I said.
"Got dammit, Naoto. I didn't know you could be like this!"
"Like what?"
"Like… teasing."
"Is that what it's called?"
I felt good. Books did playful bickering well. As did Yosuke- and Chie-senpai. But I lacked the knack for it. Maybe Kanji-kun brought it out.
"Anyway," I said. "I like the glasses, but I see why you did without."
"So you think…" Kanji prodded.
"I think they'd look good with your natural hair color - black, was it? - and a different wardrobe would make you less tease-worthy. Handsome, I imagine."
"Handsome. You think I'd look-"
"In the traditional sense, of course," I added.
"What does that mean?!"
"Nothing. Love the coffee, by the way."
"Naoto, you brat. This isn't fair. You have the home advantage in every conversation. So enough's enough. Let me ask you questions."
"Me?" I said. My stomach started hurting. I never talk about me. "I really can't tell you much. Especially not about my work. 'Top secret stuff,' as Adachi used to say."
"I don't give a shit about your work," said Kanji. His eyes were burning into mine. In those frames, I was beginning to see the man he was born to become. "Look, I can tell you how I've been. I've been lonely - Senpai and them all gone. And now I'm making myself better. I'm going to change. For myself and for all of them."
"That's very admirable of you," I said.
"But what about you, Naoto? You said you were lonely, but I don't have a damn clue how you intend to fix that."
"Of course I'm changing too. I mean I just moved for my job-"
"I said I don't want to hear about work!" snapped Kanji. "Tell me about you, Naoto."
His stare petrified me. I racked my thoughts, but every one somehow led to the 'W' word. My work is where my identity lives. But Kanji-kun saw my spirit - my Persona - and wished to know my heart's true desires. It was an expected question from a Persona-user. Though only Kanji-kun knew how to ask it up front and in a way I needed him to.
"I don't know," I said finally.
His expression softened. He knew this was hard.
Kanji-kun once said something else that stuck with me. When I was forced to face my Shadow, Kanji-kun comforted me by saying, "We are the same." At the time, I thought he meant the collective "we" and not "we" him and me. Hot-tempered powerhouse and frail puzzle-solver, I had thought. How could we possibly be the same?
I know now, and have known for awhile, that we are the same. The Investigation Team doesn't see it, and when Kanji-kun makes a nearsighted remark, neither do I. But our insecurities were born out of the same place: he's a man who hides his femininity and I'm a woman who hides her femininity. If Kanji-kun intended to change his appearance, then I…
"Perhaps I too need to change my look," I said.
I looked down, inspecting my blue button-up shirt and my thin yellow tie, draped over a chest that I had thoroughly and viciously wrapped. I went through a rigorous binding process each morning. And though it might appear to be weird to others, I am quite used to it. Afterward, I would consult my chest in the mirror, turned to the side like an anorexic patient, checking to see that the bulge was minimal. Now I did this out of habit, and also out of fear of change. Part of me wanted to stay the girl that Senpai would remember. When he returns to Inaba and we see each other again, he would know I have not left him behind.
"I don't need to dress like a boy detective anymore," I said. "I like it, but it's beginning to feel like a costume."
"I like it, too," said Kanji-kun. And by the tenderness in his voice, I can tell he meant it. "I would be sad to see that change, but I think you need it. Just the same as I need to look like a dork."
I realized something: I liked how Kanji-kun looks. I liked the arrangement of rings on his ears and nose, his spiky bleached hair, his skin-tight tops, and even the school shirt he rebelliously draped over his shoulders. He committed to looking like a 'bad boy' as much as I did to a 'boy detective.' Kanji-kun wore a costume too, but I was so used to looking at it.
We sat together in silence for a long time, letting the coffee steam and nostalgia wisp around the room and disintegrate before us. Tomorrow I would be back in Okina City. Tomorrow Kanji would be in school. Next year we will be graduating. Then after that… and after that... Growing apart was inevitable. But we were both determined to make it work. We wouldn't stay the same to preserve the past. We won't hang on like old men.
"Let's do it, then," said Kanji finally. "Let's change together. I'll change how I look if you change how you look. We can even shop for clothes together."
This proposal, so much more tempting than Rise-san's, prompted me to say something unexpected: "That would be nice. Let's do it."
Filled with newfound energy, Kanji jumped from the floor to walk to the TV set, an area I saw him kick away his supplies when I first entered the room. From behind the TV, Kanji pulled out a partially-knitted blue scarf with a string of blue yarn still attached. Its color was beautiful, and the stitch was very fine and deliberate. Clearly he had put a lot of love into it.
"I was making this," said Kanji gruffly. "For you."
"Me?" I said, failing to hide the surprise in my voice. Kanji-kun had been spending hours knitting this, thinking of me?
"Obviously, I'm not done yet," said Kanji. "But when it is, you'll have to come back to get it. Do you understand?"
I understood a little too well. "Yes," I said. "And when I return, we can go shopping."
"Sounds like a plan," Kanji smiled.
Author's Note (11.2.14): Throughout writing my previous FanFiction, I said that I didn't think a KanjixNaoto romance could work. This short story was an attempt to show both myself and you readers that it can.
I spent a great deal of time on this FanFic, from taking notes while playing Arena Ultimax and the Animated Series, to drafting and talking endlessly to my SO about it (who has not played the game). This time around, instead of writing a FanFiction as a fan, I immersed in P4 again with the excuse of writing.
In your reviews, I'd love to hear your insight on "Why a KanjixNaoto romance does/doesn't work". Have you changed your mind about any of it? I'd love to know!
Thanks for all your support, and PM me anytime. :)
Author's Note (1.10.15): Wow! What an incredible response. You guys are smarter than me - like, by a lot. Naoto and Kanji live in your souls, which is why you inspire me.
This piece was intended to be a one-off with no subsequent chapters. But you guys helped me realize that this has more series-potential than anything I've come up with. People write at different speeds, and I am slow, slow, slow. So please be patient with me.