Author's Notes: Greetings to all, and many apologies for how long I've been making you wait for chapters to this and Change of Engagement. Cruel and selfish of me, I know, but this one gave me a bit of trouble, along with life and work and changes in both taking up my time. But, I'm back now. It's the beginning of a new arc, and we're going to start it off with, well, a character who's been in the background for a while. A few of them, actually. Saying more would ruin the surprise.
Many thanks to my beta/editor, Enact. And to all my readers, new and returning, for their continued support.
So, with practically no information, go forth, read, enjoy, and review (in no particular order).
Chapter 21
Shirogane Naoto was credited for having sharp instincts and exceptional insight. Her friends on the Inaba Investigation Team needed no convincing of this, not anymore, and those she worked with in the police department had either accepted her input, or were humbled by it. A prodigy, they called her; eyes like a falcon with a telescope and intuition that was a small step short of mind reading. She was always considering the variables of each situation, thinking of alternatives and leaving no stone unturned. And now all that insight, experience, and problem-solving talent was telling her one thing, louder than a fog horn: that there was no helping it. She'd been delaying it and trying to work around it long enough, and it wasn't something she could ignore anymore. Her shirts were getting tighter across the shoulders, and she couldn't slip into her coats and slacks like she had for the past few years. It was getting harder to breathe even before she put her shirts on, too. And that was with the largest clothes she owned.
It was official – Shirogane Naoto was growing again. Faster and in more ways than her current wardrobe could accommodate.
Normally she wouldn't be caught dead procrastinating on an issue as fundamental as what she wore, but it had been quite a while since it had been a concern. She'd accepted her height and dimensions when she came to Inaba, and didn't begrudge that she might not grow much more from that point on. There was nothing wrong with how she looked or dressed, and those who professed otherwise didn't have opinions she valued. Or views she couldn't just work around. After all, neither of her parents had been especially tall people, so her size only made sense.
But now, after not changing for so long, she was being reminded of how it felt to have to update her attire. And that meant going through her wardrobe to decide not just on what she wanted adjusted, but what she wanted to be wearing for the next few years. She'd never thought of herself as fashionable, at least not in the sense that Rise-san was, but she knew that some of her favourite articles of clothing would have to be tailored or sent away for. There wasn't much hope of Junes carrying them, and she wasn't about to let something as trivial as size force her to discard them.
When she mentioned it to her Grandpa, he'd actually laughed at the situation. Not at her, he'd been sure to tell her, but that she was growing again after so long. He'd promised to make the arrangements, and had given her an address with an appointment time the next day. She considered the matter settled then, with further thought or concern unwarranted – she needed proper-sized clothes, and the monetary expense wasn't an issue. That was all there was to it.
What was a concern, she realized as she looked at the name on the piece of paper in her hands, was that the tailor she'd been scheduled with had a last name she knew quite well.
Tatsumi Textiles stared at her innocently from the plain off-white sheet, hovering above an address she had memorized from when she'd been investigating the murders, written in the fine, cursive script she'd always associated with her Grandpa.
It shouldn't have surprised her. She knew Tatsumi Kanji worked with embroidery and crafts. His family's reputation in Inaba was second to none, and her Grandpa had said he'd find the best tailor for her. But she hadn't seen anything Kanji-kun had done on a larger scale before – the most she'd seen of his talents consisted of the dolls and cell phone straps that the children were so enthusiastic about. Would he be making the clothes for her? How much experience did he have? How would he react? He did have a habit of responding strongly when she was around, though she wasn't always certain as to why.
She shook her head. No, it wouldn't do to make hasty conclusions. There were still variables about the situation she didn't know about, and making hurried assumptions wouldn't do. So she adjusted her officer's cap, perhaps the one article of clothing she owned that still fit her, and brushed the snow off her shoulders before opening the door and knocking politely on the frame. "Good morning!" she called, carefully wiping her shoes on the mat. The first thing she noticed was that the storefront was as clean and organized as it was the first time she'd come here. The second was an unfamiliar smell that reminded her of vanilla flavouring and spicy perfume, sharp enough to be noticed but not enough to be overpowering or make her eyes water. Incense. Evidently a new addition to the store since it hadn't been present last time she visited. She liked it though – if felt like it was warming her up from the inside with each breath, and set her at ease in a moment.
"Come in," replied a familiar female voice, and Naoto saw Kanji-kun's mother arranging products on the various shelves of the storefront. "Ah, Shirogane-san. It's wonderful to see you again," the woman told her as she entered, dressed in a grey kimono that looked both sensible and practical.
Naoto bowed in response. "You as well, Tatsumi-san. Thank you for taking my appointment on such short notice."
"Oh it was nothing. Kanji's been looking for a different project after all the Christmas and New Year's orders, so your request came at just the right time." Tatsumi-san brought out a ledger and pen, looking at the younger woman inquisitively. "I don't mean to be rude, but just so we're clear on the expectations and the costs…"
"I don't mind," Naoto assured her calmly. She'd grown closer to the woman since Rise-san had let it slip that Shirogane Naoto was a girl rather than the polite boy Tatsumi-san originally believed her to be. From what the sleuth had heard from Yosuke-senpai, Kanji-kun and Souji-senpai had spent the better part of an afternoon explaining the facts to the Tatsumi matriarch. Naoto wasn't privy to the details of that discussion, but she did know that the next time she saw the woman, in the downtown shopping centre's book store, she'd been as polite as she'd ever been. Perhaps Senpai was a better negotiator than they knew. Or maybe Tatsumi-san had a feeling about her, and hearing the truth was just confirming a suspicion. Either way, the awkwardness that could have existed between them was now nowhere to be found. "It makes sense to keep such things current, after all."
"I appreciate your understanding. So, you've come in for a complete resizing?"
"That's correct. For casual and semi-formal wear for now. Perhaps something more as the situations arise."
"Of course." Tatsumi-san gave her a closer, more meaningful look. "Will you require any… more feminine items at this time?"
Naoto blushed. She had expected the question, especially since she did need those particular items, and she appreciated the woman's discretion, but hearing it in person was different from thinking about it. "I… that depends."
"Kanji would be handling the main items of the order," Tatsumi-san continued. "If you placed that particular request, I would see to them myself. He's not quite ready for that yet, if you take my meaning."
Naoto smiled, letting the tension drop from her shoulders, her too-tight clothes pinching her as she did. "I'd appreciate that. Then yes, that would be most expedient. May I discuss the details of those items with you at a later time?"
"Of course, dear. Whenever you're ready. Kanji should be ready by now. Second door on the left – it's hard to miss."
Naoto bowed and removed her shoes, putting on a pair of available slippers and padding to the back of the shop. It wasn't hard to deduce which door Tatsumi-san had referred to – it was the only one bearing careful drawings of real-as-life lightning bolts and spiralling hawks in flight. Not on a sign hung on a peg, but delicately and exquisitely crafted into the surface of the door itself. She took a moment to admire the detail, knowing which Tatsumi had crafted it. It was a paradox sometimes. She never placed much importance on appearances, knowing in too many ways how unreliable they were. But it was always so easy to focus on Kanji-kun's external traits, his imposing size and direct voice and speech patterns, and ignore that he could create items or scenes of such beauty with even commonplace items.
She cleared her throat and called through the door, "Excuse me."
"Yeah, c'mon in," a familiar voice told her.
She slid the door open and saw Tatsumi Kanji's workspace for the first time. And for the second time that morning, she had to give herself time to take everything in. There were rolls of fabric and spools of thread taking up an entire side of the room, with a large desk covered in papers and measuring tapes set against the far wall. Several books and magazines held down those papers, home to a variety of coloured tabs for marking pages. Near the desk was a large window, filling the room with natural light and holding the cold at bay.
It was more a workshop than a room, and it reminded her of her own desk at home with her various projects and schematics. And yet it was, just like the design on the door, a contrast with what she expected of Tatsumi Kanji. The rolls of fabric were set against each other, some looking so precarious that the daintiest of sneezes would have toppled them, but they were sorted by colour and shade from right to left, and looked like they were set in that order deliberately. Atop several of the rolls were some well-used pincushions filled with needles, but in the shapes of hedgehogs and porcupines, right down to the polished button eyes and detailed face and tail and even whiskers. She might have expected Kanji to be careless with cleanliness and his surroundings, but the floor and walls were clean and mostly bare.
The inhabitant of the room was scribbling furiously on a paper pad, hunched over his desk, and when he turned to greet her, he stopped in place, eyes widening in clear surprise.
She blinked thoughtfully. Didn't he know she was coming? She had an appointment, after all, but was it too soon for him? Had he been so immersed in his work that he'd forgotten? Or was he just that easily startled?
"Uh, hey," he told her finally, looking away for a moment and scratching the back of his head before rising to his feet. He was wearing a black t-shirt, complete with his trademark flaming skull, and dark pants, and seemed to fill the room as he moved.
She inclined her head politely, gesturing to him as she walked to the middle of the room. "Good morning. Did I surprise you?"
"Nah. I mean, kinda, yeah. Wasn't expecting you to call, y'know? Thought you had your own tailor or… I dunno, just surprised me when you called, that's all. But it's not a problem or anything."
"I see. That's good."
"Yeah."
His eyes rose to hers again, and the room went quiet. He seemed to be waiting for something. Perhaps for her? That was logical – her participation would be needed for the measurements, however marginally. "I suppose we should begin," she told him finally.
He cleared his throat and looked down at his work table. "Y-yeah. So, you ever done this before?"
"Not recently, but I'm familiar with the procedures involved in size measurements."
"'kay, then this'll be easier. Just hold still when I say to, and… well, you know."
"I will."
Without a further word, she held her left arm out to the side, focusing on the far wall of the room as he approached with a notepad and a measuring tape.
The technical process of the measurements was simple and remarkably smooth. He told her how to move and where to hold her arms or legs, and she did so without a second thought. It was distracting, however, when she felt the backs of his fingers against her sides or arms, carefully holding the tape. She wasn't used to personal physical contact, and he was remarkably gentle when he moved, like he was afraid he'd hurt her if he pushed too hard. She also had to keep from moving when he brushed along her back – she was ticklish between her shoulder blades.
She needed something to takes her mind off his presence next to her. It was like his mass was bending the space around him, solid enough to sweep over her like a shadow on a summer day. Not discomforting or oppressive, but impossible to ignore. She had to stand in one place, however, so the only activity that made sense was conversation. And it made sense to talk while he worked, she decided. They were friends and comrades, and the time might go by faster if they chatted. Besides, small talk wasn't her forte, so this would be good practice for her. "I'm curious," she began quietly, "if you know of any skilled barbers in this part of town."
Kanji looked surprised by her words, evidently expecting her to be as quiet as she always was. "I know a few," he replied as he measured and recorded. "There's one that Ma uses all the time, if you want a recommendation. Why? Looking to get a trim?"
"Something more than a trim, I think. My hair's grown too long, and the shorter I have it cut, the more time there will be until I need to make another such appointment."
That stopped him in mid-stroke, bringing his attention up from his paper and pen. "You'd really cut it that short?"
"Not so close that it would look unusual," she clarified. "But having it this long is an inconvenience, and I doubt anyone thinks I would look appropriate with long hair."
"It… I don't think it's a problem at all. You'd look good that way."
She pulled out of her focus on the wall and turned to him, disbelief on her face. "You think so? Why?"
"Well, it's not like you'd be less of a detective with long hair, right? And it'd be something different from how you normally wear it. I dunno. I just think you'd look good with long hair."
"Perhaps so, but I'm not Rise-san or Yukiko-senpai. They might make their hair work for them, but I wouldn't know where to start with mine."
"Yukiko-senpai's hair wasn't always that long, y'know. She had it pretty short in middle school before she settled on how it looks now."
"But she became accustomed to it being long in the first place. I lack such experience," she replied as he measured across her shoulders.
"No reason not to try something different, right? Wouldn't get anywhere if we did the same thing all the time."
She didn't know why her eyes narrowed at his persistence, but they did. He hadn't made this much of an effort to talk to her in… she couldn't remember when he ever had. But it was unusual, and it was throwing her off centre, especially since his arguments were logical and followed her own logic perfectly, something she hadn't expected from the excitable teen. "It's not that simple," she told him quietly with a note of finality.
"Hmph. If you say so," was his reply, and she didn't bother to respond. "That'll do it for now," he told her a moment later, stepping away from her and scribbling on his notepad. "Should be enough to get you some shirts. Got a design and colour in mind?"
Her mood leveled off when the topic changed. She felt he might have an accurate idea of what her preferences would be, but she told him anyway. "Buttoned in the front, and a shade of blue if it's available. I trust your judgement on what shades those are."
"Yeah, it's not hard to guess," he told her. "Same as what you have now?"
"That would be preferable."
"Gotcha. Shouldn't be too hard. You'll need to come in again if you want a jacket or something else sized though."
"Not that I object, but couldn't you use the measurements you have now for those?"
"Probably, but then I'd be guessing. Different clothes need different numbers, so it's better to get it right the first time, y'know? And I'll need your leg measurements too."
"Then I will defer to your experience on the matter. How long will it be until this order is done?"
"If I get started soon, about three or four days."
"Then I'll leave you to your work." She nodded politely and turned toward the door. It occurred to her that this was perhaps the most articulate Kanji-kun had ever been around her. But that made sense, she thought a moment later. He was in his element here, doing what came more naturally to him than breathing. And it made sense that he could talk in this room – it was very calming, especially with traces of the incense from the front room lingering in the air.
"Hey," he called after her. She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. He was looking at her, though seemed uncomfortable doing so. "Thanks. For, y'know, choosing us, and coming here."
She blinked, then gave him a small smile. Despite the awkward delivery, he sounded quite sincere. "Of course. It's only logical to patronize the business of a friend, after all."
"Right. Right. Well, thanks again."
Naoto inclined her head, then made her way out of his workspace. She considered talking to Tatsumi-san on the way out, but she was already busy with another client. Naoto slipped back into her shoes and made her way out into the cold winter air. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, not difficult considering that it, too, needed to be resized, and started walking toward the heart of the business district. After all, getting her clothes sized wasn't the only reason she was here.
Before she made it to Daidara Metalworks, however, she saw another old comrade walking toward her, from the bookstore. A familiar figure she'd conversed with the day Senpai had returned from Kofu. A friend who looked up and recognized her, and was walking over with his trademark smile and new headphones in place and a bundle of magazines and CDs under an arm.
"Hey Naoto. How's it going?" he asked, forgoing the bow like usual and giving her a two-finger salute with his free hand
"Hello Yosuke-senpai. I'm well. What brings you to the shopping district? I thought you might be working today."
"It's my day off, and I left my phone at home. Just came to get the mail, and blow my paycheque." He gave a disgusted sigh and shook his head. "For how much postage costs out here, Tower Music could've financed their own building in Okina City by now. Anyway, what about you?"
She knew how observant Yosuke-senpai was, and while she felt no hesitance or shame for having Kanji-kun take her measurements for her clothes, she knew her friend would immediately make the wrong assumptions, deliberately or not, about the situation. So she told him instead "I'm here to see Daidara-san. He is in possession of an item that he feels I might be interested in, and requested that I consider it in person."
"Ahhh, I see. What sort of item? Expanding your gun collection?"
She shook her head and gestured toward the shop in question. "I'll show you if you are interested."
Evidently he was, since he followed her into the shop. What Daidara-san had waiting for her wasn't a gun, like Yosuke-senpai assumed. Nor was it a sword or a set of knives – she'd leave those to her senpai.
No, what was presented to her, and what she nodded in approval at, was an old reel film projector. 8mm, to be precise. And its condition was less than serviceable – the photo assembly alone was in seventeen distinct pieces.
"This?" Yosuke-senpai asked her, looking at the pile of parts dubiously.
"It's a pet project of mine," she replied, looking over the film canisters and the blank reels Daidara-san was willing add to the pile for a nominal fee. "I already have a camera at home. And I feel that there are certain events that should be recorded for posterity. Reflected on at times. Rise-san is very much in support of the idea."
"She'd probably take pictures of everything she can," Yosuke replied dryly with a smirk. "But that does sound like her, especially with how much she travels. And if you're that into it, I spose I can donate a few of my own."
That caught her attention, and she looked at him with a trace of surprise in her eyes. "You're an avid photographer as well, Yosuke-senpai?"
"Wouldn't go that far, but I know how to use a camera. And who knows where I'll end up? Might end up in the middle of something too crazy to just talk about, and I'd need the evidence to prove it. Anyway, you need a hand with that?" He gestured toward the heap of components she'd come for.
"Thank you for the offer, but I have already contacted Yakushiji on the matter. He'll make the arrangements."
"Ahh, gotcha. Well, I should be heading back. I'll keep your project in mind next time I head out of town. Something might catch my eye, you know?"
"Thank you, and it was nice seeing you again." Then something came to mind, something Kanji-kun had told her. "Yosuke-senpai, wait a moment. Could I ask you something?"
"Hm? Sure, what's up?"
"I… I've been thinking of cutting my hair, shorter than usual. And it's come to my attention that I might look passably well with longer hair, so I should refrain from doing so. What do you think?"
He looked at her, apparently intrigued by the question, then his eyes grew speculative. "Longer or shorter hair, eh? I think you could pull off longer hair pretty good, unless you've got a reason for wanting to keep it short. I know women in the police have to cut it short or tie it up, but you're not a beat cop, so that wouldn't be an issue."
Two people telling her long hair wasn't a problem. Curious. "It never came up before. I've always had it this length, so I hadn't given it any thought. Why do you have that opinion?"
He shrugged, keeping his literature close under his arm. "I'm not sure. I just think is suits you. I mean, it's not like I would take you less seriously if you had longer hair than you do now. But I just can't imagine you keeping it that short a few years from now, you know? Same as I can't imagine Rise going for a bowl cut or something."
"Rise-san has an image to maintain, so of course she wouldn't go to those lengths without considering the ramifications," she pointed out. "But thank you for your candor."
"Anytime."
Intriguing. Kanji-kun felt she wouldn't be any different for having longer hair, and Yosuke-senpai, as she expected, went with his gut feeling and gave her a similar opinion. And their arguments, while not entirely convincing, were valid. So she held off on scheduling a trip to the hair stylist, and made her way home pondering the other things that were regularly on her mind. And every now and again, she'd brush her bangs away from her face, or blow a breath of white-cold air out to keep her hair from her eyes.
The shirts arrived as he told her they would, and a few days later Naoto was able to breathe and move around her home without worrying for snapping buttons or tearing at the seams from a too-fast turn. She stood in front of her mirror, twisting and turning, to see the cut and shape. And while she didn't consider herself a vain person, she thoroughly admired Kanji-kun's skill and choice in colour. Perhaps it was deliberate, but the shirts brought out her skin tone and hair colour. Hair that remained uncut on account of her still pondering the opinions of her two comrades.
As pleased as she was with Kanji-kun's work, however, there was more to her wardrobe that needed resizing than shirts, which was why she was back where she'd been several days before, able to turn and lift her arms comfortably, but incredibly aware of the trim fit of her slacks. They weren't tight in the sense that her shirts had been tight, but she was becoming more and more aware of Kanji-kun's proximity as he worked. The way the morning light softened the hard lines of his jaw and cheeks, and the smell of his body wash, a clean scent that filled her head and reminded her of the ocean and sun-warmed sand every time she breathed it in. How he moved around the room, his workshop, more smoothly than she'd ever seen him before. The contrast between the Kanji-kun she knew outside of Tatsumi Textiles and the sure, confident young man before her was breaking down what she thought she knew about him, so much so that her mental energies were devoted more to figuring him out than wondering how he thought she looked in tight pants.
"You haven't cut your hair," he commented as he measured her around the waist, meeting her pensive gaze with his focused one. "It looks good."
She regarded him curiously, not letting the feeling of his hands on her waist distract her from her thoughts. "I haven't yet. I'm still considering the possibility."
"Huh. Got a reason for keeping it short? Not trying to talk you out of it, but, y'know, just curious."
"Having long hair is impractical for a detective," she told him simply, still turning over this new metaphorical Rubik's Cube in her hands. "Keeping it short means I will spend less time caring for it, and fewer things can go wrong. It would just get in the way while I'm working."
"Could always tie it up," he suggested. "That'd be a different look for you too."
"Yosuke-senpai said something similar to that several days ago. I'm not certain as to whether it would suit me or not, however."
He stopped and turned to look at her, so close they were almost nose to nose. She thought to back away, but before she could she caught his gaze, and stopped in place. How… odd. She'd never noticed how dark his eyes were, or that he had long eyelashes. And neither trait was detracting. Quite… the opposite, in fact… He stared at her, wordlessly, for a long moment, then seemed to remember where he was and pulled back, looking away. Naoto also looked away, feeling oddly warm at how close he'd been.
No… No, that had to be the sunlight, because they were standing near the window. Of course.
"Never know until you try," he told her finally. "What's the worst that can happen?"
"It's not that simple. People have an image that they associate a detective with, same as a tailor or an inn keeper, and it makes business easier if those people look the part." But even as she said it, she knew her logic was flawed: only Yukiko-senpai fit the part of an inn keeper the way she was describing, and even that was a flawed argument on account of the young woman's curious sense of humour and there being far, far more to her than met the eye.
"There's more to people than what they look like. Hard not to think like that now, especially after all the shit we went through before, right?"
"Not everyone thinks that way."
"Then to hell with them. I mean, c'mon, you know that ain't important. It's not about looking like a girl or a guy – you're you, an' that's all there is to it."
She chuckled. His directness was refreshing, but he did have a tendency to speak before thinking. "Where does this preoccupation stem from, by the way? It contradicts your fascination with my hair, you know – if people are who they are, then their appearance shouldn't matter."
"Some looks suit people better," he argued, his features animated as he got into their discussion. "Make em look more mature, grown up, makes em stand out and look how they should. Still them, but the look brings it out more. And gets past that part you were talking about, people accepting you based on looks."
"And you think I'd look more suitable with long hair because it's appropriate?" she inquired, putting the pieces together. Then she let her train of thought continue unheeded. "Is that what you find appealing or attractive? Someone fitting their proper image and living true to themselves?"
"That's right," he told her directly, staring her in the eye. "And it's the same with you. That ain't a problem. Not with me."
She froze, and realized without growing horror what he was saying. "Kanji-kun, don't say things rashly. You'll only create confusion in the situation." She tried for a calming, explanatory tone, but, to her shame, she sounded breathless, and her voice slipped into a higher pitch than she normally used.
"Ain't no confusion or a misunderstanding," he replied immediately. "If you think I'm into you, then that's what I'm saying." Naoto had no words to reply with. There were no words. She stared at him, standing in place and trying to comprehend what was happening. He continued speaking, not loud or agitated, but with a sincerity she couldn't ignore. "You're smart and brave, yeah, but there's more to you than that. I mean, that's plenty on its own, but it's more than that with you. It's like at school. You mighta thought you were part of the wallpaper, but you've always shined and stood out. For bein' smart or different. Couldn'ta won that beauty contest if you didn't right? Point being, there's more to you than you think, and it ain't got to do with looking like a guy or a girl. And I think..." It was then that he lost some of his steam. "I dunno. I can help you. I want to help you. See where you go with it."
Stunned. Flabbergasted. There were other words, but those summed up her feelings well enough. She worked her jaw several times and finally found her voice. "I'm… not sure I catch your meaning."
He let out a long breath, and his shoulders sunk on the exhale. He seemed smaller now. Younger. And it occurred to her that, despite his size, he was the youngest member of their team. And right now he looked it. Young and a little lost. "Let's just finish this. Shouldn't take too long," he told her, his voice tense. She didn't remember if she answered him, but nodded anyway.
The sizing continued in a strained silence, like it was riding on a steel cable about to snap. Kanji measured, but swore under his breath more than once for doing so inaccurately or not taking the measurements down. And she found herself twitching at the feel of his hands, or edging away from him when the tightness of her slacks became apparent. They didn't say anything when the session ended. She edged away and he kept his eyes on his notepad, broad shoulders and back to her, imposing as a wall and lacking that uncertainty from before. She said some form of farewell, and left before waiting for an answer. She spoke to Tatsumi-san on the way out, discussed the final price and those 'other items', and left in a daze.
Home. Work. Cases. Yes, she could focus on those and get Kanji-kun's words out of her head. Get some control over the situation again, and try to narrow her focus. It had worked before, it would work now.
But peace of mind was not to be had that night. She'd had dinner with her Grandpa and Yakushiji, but couldn't remember the topic of discussion. She found herself in her room, dressed in her pajamas, but couldn't recall how she got there or when. And throughout it all, she kept hearing his voice over and over. She tried pacing and thinking of police cases, but that only made her hot. She sat down at her work table and tried tinkering with the film projector's reel mechanism, but kept spacing out and finding her screwdrivers and wrenches where they would do her no good. Giving up, she put her tools away and slipped under her covers, shutting off the lights and trying to calm her mind enough to sleep. Rest would help her sort the events of the day out.
Only sleep didn't come. She stared at the far wall, focusing so hard on tiring out that she sparked her second wind. Then she rolled over and tried staring at the ceiling, only to compare the pattern to that of the wall in Kanji-kun's work room. She rolled over again, letting out a small, uncharacteristic growl when her too-long hair followed and flopped against her face, giving up on the matter entirely. It felt like running smacking into a wall right in front of her. She'd felt this often enough in the past, and knew when she'd run out of ideas. She needed a new perspective, someone to show her where she was making mistakes in her reasoning. And she had to be, because mysteries didn't keep her up at night, so why should Kanji-kun?
Even thinking of his name made her turn over again, and stop halfway when she realized she was doing it. She sighed, and recited the Dojima family's phone number in her mind. It was far too late, or technically early, to call him now, so she'd do it in the morning. She needed Senpai's insight on this matter. He'd understand. No, she realized with a growing lucidity that made her bury her face in her pillow with a groan, he'd do more than understand – he'd probably known the entire time. He was observant and in tune with all of them, so she knew he'd have something to say on this topic. And Kanji-kun looked up to him, so it only made sense that he'd talk to his senpai, ask him for advice. How much did he know? How much had he inferred since they'd all met outside Tatsumi Textiles nearly two years ago?
The detective in her knew that would be an asset, that he'd be able to make a more informed decision, knowing more about the situation. He knew them both, after all, and their personalities, so he'd be able to find the most expedient solution. The young woman in her, however, was oddly mortified that she'd been as blind to the people around her as she had been, that the others saw through her and Kanji so easily. Had she just not wanted to see it? Or was this a result of her recent growth? Who would she turn to if Souji-senpai didn't have the answers? No, she knew that wasn't the case. It was Souji-senpai, after all. He would know what to do, or at least help her think of something herself.
That thought was the last one she had before her mind finally calmed enough to let her sleep. Even then, she didn't sleep peacefully, scattered dreams of bright sunlight and the scent of the ocean filling her mind.
Souji must have known something was up, because he'd invited her over for breakfast when she called him at the crack of dawn the next morning. He hadn't even asked what she needed his time for – he'd just told her when to arrive. So when she knocked on the door and was greeted by a freshly-washed Souji-senpai, complete with his usual dark slacks and a grey long-sleeved shirt (it was January, after all), she had to step back. He'd leaned down and looked at her closely, giving a small smile as though he'd found something he was looking for. "Thought so," he murmured before standing aside and letting her in.
"Were you wondering about something?" she inquired, unbuttoning her coat and taking her shoes off. She did so slowly, not just because she was still sandy-eyed and bone-tired from a bad night's sleep, but also because the scent of sliced oranges, cooking eggs and toast, and freshly-ground coffee beans wafted around her the moment she took a breath. She'd skipped breakfast on account of her exhaustion, so when he pointed her toward the table, she didn't hesitate to take him up on the offer.
"You sounded a little rough on the phone," he explained as he poured her a cup of coffee and placed the cream and sugar on the table, still working over the stove and counter. "We'll make extra, so have as much as you like."
"I couldn't impose," she replied automatically despite having her coffee cup set under her nose and inhaling deeply, the rich scent easing her exhaustion-induced headache and bringing an energy to her limbs that she'd lacked a moment before. It wasn't bagged coffee, either – he was spoiling her with something expensive and freshly ground. Or perhaps they had this regularly? Either way, it was a luxury that would be rude to decline.
"It's no imposition," he replied, glancing at her while working on the eggs. "I'll make you work for it, so it's only fair. Same with breakfast. Right Nanako?"
Nanako? Naoto had just finished adding her cream and sugar, saw where Souji was looking, then turned to the side to see his cousin standing in the doorway to the living room, her hair down while she blearily rubbed her eyes.
"Good morning Naoto-san," she told the detective through a yawn as she pulled out a chair at the table. Souji poured her a cup of coffee, the mug bearing the imprint of a platypus on the side, and the girl gave a sleepy smile to him in return. Naoto couldn't help but notice the pajamas the girl wore. The shirt and pants had white lace along the cuffs and edges, and the entire affair was a distinct and tasteful shade of pink she'd grown to associate with the girl. And most distinguishing of all were the pictures of Risette herself scattered across the front, back and sides. Profile shots, posing for the camera, even pictures that looked like they'd been taken live, all cropped and scattered across the fabric surface. Even the buttons, Naoto noted, were in the shapes of microphones and music notes. The ensemble looked quite well made, and probably cost more than anything Junes had on their racks. It was also too large for her, with the legs and sleeves folded back and pinned in place so she wouldn't trip. Someone had purchased the set with Nanako-chan's growth in mind, and knew how much the girl idolized Risette. And the number of people on that list was particularly small.
"Good morning, Nanako-chan," she replied with a smile she couldn't suppress. "I haven't seen you wear those pajamas before. They're very pretty. Are they new?"
The girl immediately perked up to the background tune of Souji's chuckle, eyes wide and face split by a smile when she leaned forward against the table. "Yep! Rise-san sent them to me for Christmas! She sent me her new CD and some autographed pictures of places she'd been before too. She even sent a letter saying what she was doing in Kofu and in Tokyo."
From dragging her feet to trembling with energy. Naoto shook her head, enjoying every word the girl said and letting her enthusiasm seep in from across the table. It was calming, a pleasant centre to her morning, and engrossed her to the point that she hadn't even noticed that her hair brushed her cheeks when she smiled. She listened as the girl described what she'd been doing since they'd met for dinner after Christmas, feeling her fatigue fade away. For this little while, she didn't have to think of the reasons why she came over in the first place. She'd lost track of time while she talked with the girl, so much so that she was startled when Souji slid a plate of food in front of her. He did the same for Nanako and occupied the remaining chair and told them "Sorry it took so long. Dig in."
Naoto looked at just how much food he'd given her, surprised by what she saw on her plate. "This is too much for me, Senpai."
He shrugged, not taking the plate back. "It's not a problem. Just eat what you can. We'll talk later." And so she was treated to a Dojima family breakfast. Nanako chatted happily with Souji when she wasn't eating, and even though Naoto busied herself with her breakfast, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. It was a welcome relief to see Nanako so energetic, so lively, so clearly enjoying her time with Souji-senpai. The girl's strength and vivacity was an example for the entire team to follow, herself included.
Breakfast, as she'd grown to expect from Souji-senpai, was delicious, and she was so busy talking to Nanako and engaging in Senpai's stories of Rise and Kofu that she blinked owlishly at her plate when her fork hit ceramic instead of food – she'd eaten everything on her plate. And there had been quite a bit of it.
"You must have been hungry," Souji noted when he saw her expression.
"I'm… I didn't expect to…"
"It's no problem," he told her, brushing off her concerns. "I made the food to be eaten, after all."
She sat and mulled it over, unsure what devouring an entire plate of food when a year ago she might have eaten barely half of it said about her while Souji and Nanako took the dishes to the sink and cleaned them, discussing what they'd be having for dinner. Perhaps it was another symptom of growing again. No, not just perhaps – she knew that it was. But the changes were hard to get used to, and it just reminded her of why she was here in the first place.
Nanako finished helping Souji clean the dishes before heading to her room to change. She was visiting friends, he explained, so they'd have some privacy for whatever she wanted to discuss. Sure enough, within twenty minutes they were sitting across the living room table from each other, a cup of green tea in front of each. Souji-senpai's postures was relaxed, but Naoto found it hard to think when he was looking at her. She kept her eyes on the corner of the table and her fingers were tense and tight on her cup until she forcibly loosened them.
"What's up?" he asked, face calm and focused on her. He was courteous enough to not mention her nerves, and that gave her a measure of stability.
She took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to be a coward or run away from the reason she'd called so early in the morning. Senpai would have let her, certainly, but she hated wasting opportunities. "It's about Kanji-kun," she blurted out, then winced. Blunt and inelegant. She was going to work into the topic, not tell him right away.
He cocked his head to the side, otherwise unresponsive. "What about him? Is there a problem?"
"He's begun to exhibit a… strong interest in me." There. More in control. Much better.
She got a series of blinks before his lips twitched up. Not enough to say that he was smiling, but he was clearly amused. "I'm sure you know this, Naoto, but he's been doing that for quite a while. He hasn't always been clear on the point, but this isn't a new development."
"And that's readily apparent, when I look at the evidence in the past," she replied with heat in her cheeks. "But the circumstances have changed, and it's not something I can overlook now."
He looked at her, the question in his eyes, but she kept the details to herself. She wasn't ready to discuss them with someone else when she was still trying to make sense of them herself. "I see," was his reply. "So I suppose this complicates things on your end."
"That's an accurate assessment. What is your advice for me in this situation?"
His amusement showed in a smile as his eyes slipped closed. But she didn't feel like he was laughing at her. If anything, he was supportive and calm as always. "I need more information than that. After all, I understand if this is confusing for you, but I don't know what the problem with the situation is yet."
Naoto took a deep breath and looked at him inquisitively. "Did Kanji-kun talk to you about this?"
Souji sipped his tea before answering. "I gave him some pointers on how to talk to you when I came back here in May. But if he's talking to you now, then it's news to me."
She wilted a little at that. "I… I see. So I simply confirmed your suspicions."
"I'd be more surprised if he didn't say anything to you, Naoto. But that's beside the point. What's the problem?"
It was embarrassing to say it, and unusual since she never had a problem with words before. But it was necessary. "His attraction isn't something I'm accustomed to dealing with. Not when it's presented so directly."
"You seemed pretty popular at school, as I recall," Souji pointed out, crossing his legs and leaning back.
She shook her head with a sardonic chuckle. "That was different – none of those were sincere offers of partnership or understanding. They were just idle fantasies born of curiosity, nothing more."
"So you're off balance when someone is sincere? I mean, Kanji's not subtle when it comes to his intentions. You'd know if he were lying to you." Even his voice was smooth, keeping her from losing control. No judgement, no concern, just rock-steady serenity.
There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as he spoke. He was hitting the very issues she'd wanted to slowly work into, and he knew he was doing it. She felt her feathers ruffle a little at how direct he was being. "It's not that simple, and just because Kanji-kun's putting an effort into this… this aspiration doesn't mean that things will work out. Or that I'll feel the same way about it."
He shook his head, never breaking eye contact with her. "That sounds like you're running away, Naoto. And no one fell in love without being a little bit brave," he told her quietly, staring her in the eye.
His gaze was the only thing holding her in place when she heard the word 'love'. A flash of hot and cold ran through her, and she struggled to find her words. They'd fled her, however, along with her rising temper. Love? Why had he said that? "S-senpai! W-what makes y-you think I'm in l-love?!"
He held out a calming hand, not moving out of his chair. "It's a saying, Naoto. I don't mean that's what's going on in this situation, but my point is that if you want to find out what's happening between you two, you'll need to throw the dice at some point. Even being friends means some give and take, some bad with the good."
She regained her composure enough to find her words and regain control of her expression. It was mortifying, how easily he could arouse a reaction in her. "It's not that simple, Senpai.
"Do you not want to talk to him?"
It wasn't that simple anymore. "This isn't about talking to each other. We worked together during the investigation with a consistent level of success. But things are different now."
"Does he offend you?" She didn't answer at first, and he continued unabated. "I'd understand if you said he wasn't your type, or if he was too tall or you didn't think he'd get along with your grandfather. Or is it his arts and crafts?"
She knew what he was doing: asking leading questions so she would come up with the answers herself, or at least see the holes in her own logic. But knowing what he was doing didn't stop her from responding to his questions. Even when she remembered how close Kanji had been to her during their last fitting session with a shiver. "Of course not," she told him with as much strength as she could. "You should know that I don't place value on such superficial matters. What you've described is part of who he is, after all. And I knew about his talents even before I met you. They weren't an oddity then, and they aren't now."
He spread his hands then, leaning forward and commanding her attention. "Then what's the problem? I understand if you want to take things slow or don't want to rush into anything without thinking things over, but I can't help you very much if I don't know what's wrong with him."
"Why do you think there's anything wrong with him at all, Senpai?"
"Because you haven't told me why it won't work between you two. There must be some reason, or you wouldn't be here."
She blinked. He stared. And silence reigned between them. "What do you mean?" Her voice was trembling, just a little. She blamed it on a draft she knew wasn't there.
Despite having the upper hand, he didn't look happy with it. He didn't look unhappy either. He just sat on his side of the table. "I mean that you've been defending him this whole time, no matter what subject we bring up. If you aren't sure about where you want this thing between you, whatever it is, to go, then that's fine. But it feels like you're dragging your feet."
"I… That's not the case. I want– That is, I feel that– He wouldn't–"
"Naoto," he murmured, and she heard him perfectly over her own frantic thoughts and directionless babbling. "What are you so afraid of?"
And her brain stopped. Just stopped. She couldn't formulate a reply, couldn't protest at his presumption, or keep his words from looping over and over and over in her mind. She couldn't say anything in her own defence. There were no words to say.
"Kanji's not the sort to push you into something you're not comfortable with. I think he's letting you make the next move. If you want to be friends, I'm sure he'd be happy for the chance. If you want it to be something more, he'd probably let you set the pace to things. And if you aren't sure, then talk to him and figure it out together."
She started scrabbling for something to say. "I… we're… this isn't like what you and Yukiko-senpai share."
"No, it isn't. I'm not Kanji, and you aren't Yukiko. Everyone's different, but the trick is in finding what works for you. And that means that you have to want to make it work. So do you?"
She couldn't look at him, feeling his words hit her where she thought she was safe. It wasn't fair. How did he know? Why did he have to say it so easily? She stopped looking away and turned a cold glare at him, ire returning and resentment burning on her face. "I suppose you believe I should entertain that notion? Initiate a romantic relationship because it worked for you? Nothing is so simple. I'm not you, Senpai, and I'd appreciate you respecting that fact."
His eyes, inquisitive and non-judging, turned steely. His expression shifted into an expression of direct skepticism that told her don't give me that crap. "I'm not pushing you into anything, Naoto. It's your life, and it's your choice to make. Do it, or don't. No one's judging you. My only point is that you still haven't told me why being friends with Kanji can't work. And I think you're better than just brushing him off because you aren't sure of yourself. Honestly, what's holding you back?"
"You…" Her snappy reply died with her antagonism, now replaced with a bone-deep fatigue. She couldn't stay angry with him, not when she knew he was right. And it wasn't fair to treat him like this – she'd asked him for help, after all. "You don't make this easy, Senpai."
The chill around him warmed at her words, and his reply came to her on a soft murmur. "Matters of the heart never are. That's why they're worth it."
"I'm a real mess, aren't I?"
"No. You're just human. Sometimes life drops a bomb on us, and all we can do is try to pick up what's left and make the best of it."
She sighed and looked to the dark, smooth ceiling. "Why me?"
"Why not you? He has his reasons, and they make sense to him."
"Why him?"
"Because it's unconventional. And that could be the reason it works."
"Why now?"
"If it wasn't now, it'd be later. He's been working toward this for a while, and there's no time like the present."
"What should I do?"
"I have no idea. But I think you'll make the right decision, whatever you choose."
"But what will that be?"
He didn't respond. Maybe he'd run out of answers. Perhaps he was waiting to see how she reacted. And it was possible that he didn't see the need to speak. It wouldn't have mattered if he had – she had enough on her mind.
"I'd hoped you could have given me some answers on this topic," she murmured finally. "All I have now are more questions."
"Sometimes knowing what you don't know is more useful than having an answer."
She chuckled blandly. "I know that. I should know that. But nothing… none of this makes any sense now."
He didn't reply. Instead he just leaned back and looked out the porch doors, as calm as ever. Naoto looked out over the Dojima yard with a long sigh. She knew she wasn't going to get any closer to her answers, even with Senpai's help. She rose wordlessly, thanked him, and went toward the door to collect her shoes. To her knowledge, he was still sitting there when she left. She didn't look back to find out.
Four days later, she was sitting at her desk, drumming her fingers on her work table. And she never drummed her fingers – she hated the sound, the monotony. It was too loud and threw off her thoughts. It was the same with clocks. She never sat in the parlor where the Shirogane grandfather clock stood, for the very same reason. And even her restored pocket watch was now quieter than when it was originally made. But her thoughts weren't broken by the sound this time – they were the cause of the action in the first place.
In front of her lay the last order she'd made at Tatsumi Textiles. Her coats and slacks, beautifully made and exactly the shade she wanted them in, lay in the bottom of the package, smelling of the incense Tatsumi-san used in the front part of the store. A smaller, more discrete package rested next to it, containing the articles promised from Tatsumi-san herself. Naoto had what she'd gone there for. Her wardrobe was updated and resized, and the matter of her clothes not fitting was resolved. There was no reason to go back there. So why was she still feeling agitated? She had picked through her dinner after the packages arrived, and hadn't been able to get her mind off the conversation with Senpai. Or the events of the last two weeks, for that matter.
No. She was lying to herself. She knew why she was still turning her mind in metaphorical circles. It was because the business with Kanji-kun wasn't concluded yet. And trying to stamp 'Case Closed' on the matter wasn't working. Naoto ceased her drumming of fingers and instead wrapped them together, trying to focus her mind on the problem at hand. The unexpected development of Kanji's attraction to her.
She shook her head with a disbelieving smile. The idea was still as ludicrous as it was when Yosuke-senpai and the others were making light of it. It wasn't anything against Kanji-kun, it was just that…
You haven't told me why it won't work.
The problem wasn't that it wouldn't work between them, but why him? What did he see in her that he didn't see in Chie-senpai or Rise-san? He'd never expressed interest in any of the girls at school either. Surely he'd see something he liked in someone else. That was far a far more likely scenario.
…But if that were the case, why hadn't she seen him with any girls when she'd met him? Or since the murder cases were solved? She didn't even know what sort of girl he liked, now that she thought about it, so how had he come from nowhere and blindsided her?
C'mon, you know that ain't important. It's not about looking like a girl or a guy – you're you, an' that's all there is to it.
It wasn't that simple. It couldn't be.
What are you afraid of?
She wasn't afraid. Not entirely. Perhaps she just didn't want someone to see her in a way she didn't see herself. She was a Shirogane, after all. An ace detective, an intuitive genius. She didn't aim to be feminine, to stand out in a crowd or catch attention from members of the opposite sex. How was she supposed to react, therefore when someone defied her expectations and wishes for anonymity and confronted her on the matter?
It was unexpected, and represented an unknown variable in the plans for her life. Something that bore no precedent, offered no template from which she could work. The situation with Kanji-kun simply wasn't something she understood or could explain.
Naoto went still at that thought. Was that it? Was she afraid of the unknown, and letting that stay her hand? She wasn't a stranger to taking risks for the sake of answers, but those answers were often sought on her terms, not those of others.
She sighed. It was almost 10pm, and she was still thinking in circles. Perhaps there were some books she could consult on the matter. She turned in her chair and looked toward her bookshelves, but the motion sent her hair into her eyes again. Her fists clenched. She shot to her feet and stormed over to the phone on her desk. That was it – she'd been lax in scheduling an appointment for a haircut, and it was time to correct that oversight. It was getting too unruly, and she didn't look good with long hair. No one at the police station would take her seriously if she looked more feminine than she already did.
She reached for the receiver, but her fingers froze on it. Her breath caught as her treacherous mind found another memory to torment her with. It… I don't think it's a problem at all. You'd look good that way. That's right – he liked the idea of her with long hair. Or at least it wasn't a defining characteristic for him. But then he was satisfied with how she was, no matter what.
She blinked and looked up, through her messy bangs and into the night while her hand rested on the phone.
She wasn't the sort of girl that men pursued, no matter what the poll of the beauty contest had suggested. She was a detective, and she had a job and a legacy to live up to. That wouldn't change. It was who she was.
Did Kanji-kun understand that? Whatever he did would have to work around her priorities, no matter where they took her. Extended absences for her assignments or cases, or for when she went to university to pursue the degrees appropriate to her career. She had a life of her own she had to consider. Would that kind of compromise be acceptable to him?
He was set to inherit his family's business, and would no doubt have to focus on that. Long hours, isolation when working on orders, and, with all likelihood, staying in Inaba. Was that suitable for her? Perhaps she should have asked Yukiko-senpai about that – she had the Amagi Inn, after all. But it was too late now.
She stared out her window, not seeing her reflection with its long, unruly hair or the polished glass or the darkness outside. She was alone with her thoughts, and they were no more in order than they had been that morning. Time passed, she didn't know how much, but she sighed finally and let the receiver go. Her clothes dropped into a heap on the carpet that would have appalled her some other time, but didn't even register to her as she slipped into her new pajamas, fit to her size while leaving room to grow. The lights dimmed, and she lay down on her futon and pulled the covers over herself, eyes heavy with the promise of sleep.
Tomorrow. She'd deal with it tomorrow.
And with that, she passed into the world of dreams.