Togami hadn't expected Kirigiri to agree with his suggestion – and the fact that she'd done so almost made him want to take it back. Was this something that she wanted? Had he played straight into her hands?
No – he didn't believe that, not after she'd fought so hard to hide the poison bottle from them in the first place. She had to be pretending to like the idea so that she could avoid admitting she'd lost. Or maybe she didn't believe he'd go through with it. Well, if that was the case, then she could think again.
"I'm glad you see reason," he said to Kirigiri. "We should take it to the incinerator immediately, before anything unfortunate can occur to prevent us."
"That's fine with me," she said, not sounding concerned in the slightest.
"Wait – you want to use the incinerator?" Naegi asked, the sound of his voice breaking Togami's ability to focus on Kirigiri. "But – isn't the trash room usually locked?"
That was a good point, actually – one that Togami hadn't considered. He frowned, thinking back to all the talk of a garbage duty rotation back when it had come up before the murders had started. There had been a schedule, yes – but it had assumed they would have fifteen students around to take part. Once people starting dying, he doubted that rearranging the trash rotation had been on anyone's mind.
"Yamada had the key, when it came up during the first trial," Togami said at last. "I haven't seen it since then."
Naegi shook his head. "I haven't, either. But it can't have just disappeared. Maybe Yamada still had it when he died?"
"No, he didn't," Kirigiri said. "Ishimaru did."
Togami's gaze snapped back to her. "And how exactly do you know that?"
"I noticed it in his pocket when I was examining his body," Kirigiri said with a shrug.
"So – what, you had it all this time?" Togami demanded, alarm coursing through him at the thought that she'd had a way to obliterate evidence since the third trial. "And you never said anything?"
"I don't have it," Kirigiri said. "I left it in his pocket. We didn't have long before the trial was going to start, and it seemed unlikely that the trash room had any relevance to that case."
"Then it still would have been in his pocket when the mastermind – cleaned up," Naegi said, a grimace of unhappiness crossing his face. "Does that mean it's just gone?"
"I doubt the mastermind would get rid of something we might need," Togami said, frowning. "They wouldn't have wanted to take the trash room and incinerator out of play for any future murderers. After all, they made a point of establishing that they could return other items to us from corpses."
"Oh – you mean the students handbooks!" Naegi's face lit up as he figured out what Togami had meant, and Togami had to look away at the sharp pang the sight sent through his chest. "You think the trash room key would be in the entry hall with the other handbooks?"
"That sounds like a reasonable suggestion," Kirigiri said. "Shall we go down to the first floor to check?"
Togami narrowed his eyes at her as they headed for the staircase, trying to work out whether she was disappointed by this turn of events. She'd provided information about the whereabouts of the trash room key – but he couldn't be sure whether she'd done it to be helpful or to allay suspicion. Had she even been telling the truth? For all he knew, she'd pocketed the trash room key herself, and this was all a wild goose chase. Maybe that was why she'd been so willing to agree to burn the dojo locker key – she knew they wouldn't be able to get to the incinerator and would have to give up.
But when they reached the entrance to the stairs, those thoughts screeched to a halt as Togami looked down the first of the many flights they would have to descend to get to the first floor. He hadn't really thought much about the stairs when he'd walked up them the first time, but now – he couldn't stop himself from glancing back in Naegi's direction.
The other boy stood just at the edge of the doorway, eyes closed as he took a fortifying breath. Even with one hand braced against the wall, he looked unsteady, like a single breath wrong might send him tumbling to the ground. Thin trickles of clammy sweat made their way down his face, leaving trails of blood in their wake as they crossed his wounded cheek. He looked pitiful like that, weak and in pain, and Togami couldn't help the answering ache in his own heart.
But as Kirigiri headed down the stairs without a pause, Naegi slowly forced his eyes open – and Togami hurriedly turned away and began his own descent. The last thing he wanted was for Naegi to catch him staring.
But as he walked down the stairs, Togami couldn't escape from the knowledge that Naegi was so close behind him in the narrow stairwell. He could hear the uneven rhythm of the other boy's unsteady steps, and he found himself counting the time between each one. A shadow stretched out in front of him, overlapping with his own, and he couldn't stop his gaze from tracking the way it trembled.
It was ridiculous. If Naegi was unwell, it was only because he insisted on ignoring his own health – and his stupidity was no concern of Togami's. Not anymore. He could run marathons up and down the stairs until he collapsed, for all Togami cared. He could drive himself to exhaustion until he fell apart, and Togami wouldn't – he wouldn't – he'd –
Togami turned and caught Naegi's elbow in a steadying grip. It wasn't the supportive arm he'd given the boy when helping him walk back from the trial ground – Naegi was still bearing most of his own weight, with assistance from his white-knuckled fingers clutching the stair rail. But it was enough to stabilize him and let him concentrate on moving, instead of trying not to fall over.
"Th-thanks," Naegi said, not looking up to meet Togami's eyes as an embarrassed flush crept up his cheeks.
"It would be inconvenient for everyone if you fell down the stairs," Togami said, making sure to keep his voice at his iciest. "This school hardly has the medical facilities to handle it."
"Right." For all that he ought to be steadier, Naegi seemed to tremble again for a moment. "I'll – try not to be an inconvenience."
Togami gave a huff of annoyance. "Just stop talking." He couldn't for the life of him understand why Naegi always insisted on chattering away when he ought to be conserving his energy so that he could walk. It was like the boy wanted to collapse.
Fortunately, Naegi managed to keep his mouth shut after that, and they climbed down the rest of the stairs in silence. Togami tried his best not to let too much of his attention drift to the boy beside him, but even the aggravating sight of Kirigiri a few steps ahead of them couldn't distract him for long. He could feel the warmth of Naegi's arm even through the layers of clothing the boy wore, inviting him to press closer. For all that he was only touching Naegi's elbow, he could feel the pressure of the other boy's presence beside him, remembered touches tingling along his skin. Togami wasn't used to denying himself anything he wanted, and he hadn't realized just how difficult it would be to walk beside Naegi, allowing himself to be only this close and no further.
And being so close – it let him see other things, as well, in the glances he couldn't stop himself from stealing. Were all those lines around Naegi's eyes from stress and exhaustion? How long had his lips been tinged with white? Was his head drooping down because he needed rest… or was he just too unhappy to hold it upright?
Togami's stomach twisted unpleasantly, and with a start, he recognized the sensation as guilt. Naegi was injured, sick, and miserable – and he had been a part of that. He'd said that he wanted Naegi to be safe and protected – and then he'd contributed to this.
When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Togami hastily dropped Naegi's arm and stepped away, telling himself that he was relieved to get away from the conflicting feelings it inspired. After all, Naegi had said that he didn't want Togami's protection – or his love. He had no excuse to indulge his weak desire to continue to touch Naegi in the only way he still could.
