Climbing the stairs to the fifth floor was even more of an ordeal than Togami had expected it to be. With the lantern in one hand weighing him down, his body kept swaying to the side with every step he took up the stairs, threatening to send him toppling into the emptiness behind him. Even keeping a grip on the railing could only do so much to help when the effects of the drugged air lingered, leaving his hands weaker than they should have been.
His only consolation was that at least Naegi seemed to be coping better with the climb than he'd feared. The other boy could only make slow progress, using the pole rather than the railing to haul himself up one stair at a time, but at least he was moving steadily. Pain hadn't made him falter, except once when he'd jarred his injured arm, but he'd kept going almost immediately after doing so. And with the slow pace, exhaustion didn't seem to be a problem, either.
In fact, Naegi was managing the stairs so well that by the time they reached the top, it had dawned on Togami that he wasn't going to have the leverage he'd expected in trying to convince Naegi to wait outside the classroom. Naegi still had to move slowly, that was the problem, and to avoid breathing the drugged air, they would have to move fast. Togami knew he'd barely managed to get himself out, and he'd been in excellent condition, other than the exhaustion of being awake for a full day. What would that same drug do to Naegi, who was already wounded and still weak from blood loss?
But would Naegi see it the same way, especially with the likelihood that Kirigiri's dead body lay in the middle of that drugged air? Considering the risks that Naegi had already been willing to endure for the girl, Togami had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't care.
Still, that didn't mean he shouldn't try to convince Naegi to see sense. The trials had shown that Naegi did know how to recognize reason and logic, even when he didn't like what they were telling him. If Togami could manage to marshal his arguments strongly enough, argue skillfully enough, he just might be able to talk Naegi out of doing something irrevocably stupid.
When they reached the edge of the long hall that led to classroom 5-C, Togami stopped and turned to Naegi. "Before we go any further, there's something we should discuss. When we get to the classroom itself, I think it would be better if you waited outside."
Naegi blinked for a moment — then nodded. "Okay."
The arguments Togami had been constructing dropped out of his head as he stared at Naegi in disbelief. "You — what?"
"Okay," Naegi repeated. "I'll wait outside if you want." He sighed. "I'm better than I was, but — well, I know I'm not completely recovered, not yet. You'll have to move fast if there are drugs in the air, and I don't want to be something that slows you down."
Togami didn't quite know what to make of the easy acquiescence to his wishes. He'd expected a battle, and Naegi hadn't given him one. "But I thought you wanted to identify the body," he said, the question probing at Naegi's resolve. Did he really mean what he'd said…?
Naegi looked towards the door, sadness seeping into his eyes. "I want to know who it is," he said. "I have to know. But that doesn't mean I need to see it for myself. I trust you to look for me, and to tell me the truth."
Togami froze, feeling as though someone had unexpectedly placed a small, fragile treasure in his hands, one that would shatter if he made the wrong move. He'd known that Naegi trusted him, but this went beyond what he'd thought that meant. The awareness that the corpse could be Kirigiri's loomed unspoken between them, and Togami knew how strongly Naegi felt for the wretched girl, even if he couldn't understand why. The need to know the truth about her had driven Naegi out of bed in the middle of his recovery, up flight after flight of stairs through pain and exhaustion.
And even so, Naegi had agreed to let Togami check the body on his behalf. He hadn't even objected. Togami didn't know if he would have been able to do the same, if he had been the one to need information so badly. Not that he didn't trust Naegi or thought the other boy would lie if their positions were reversed — but he knew he couldn't have let go of the need to learn such a critical truth for himself.
Slowly, with an immense dignity that was the only appropriate answer he could make to the faith Naegi had placed in him, Togami placed his hand on top of the one Naegi had wrapped around the pole, a feather light touch that offered warmth without pressure. "Then I'll go for you," he said, the words as heavy as a vow.
Without words like that, he might have felt differently about letting his hand fall away from Naegi's and turning to walk down the corridor to face the ruined classroom again. After all, it was a place where he had nearly been overcome by an enemy who'd been just a little more clever than he'd expected, where he'd fallen to the ground and been forced to crawl out on hands and knees like an animal. If the situation were different, he might even have been afraid to walk through those doors again, no matter how briefly.
But not now. With Naegi's trust settling around his shoulders like a warm cloak, he had something more important to do than fear. He had to tie the strips of bandages over his nose and mouth, doing whatever little they could to strain out any drugged air he might be forced to inhale. He had to fill his lungs with one last breath of the clean air in the hallway. And he had to step over the threshold to the ruined classroom, holding up the lantern to send light flooding through the shadows, all the way to the body still lying on the far side of the room.
