A/N: Some notes I didn't include last time...this is a short story, just a bit of fun while writing other fics. Expect far more frequent updates than Shortest Distance (not difficult)

Rise was undoubtedly a talented singer, and her concert had been...enjoyable, Naoto supposed. The after-party was a different matter. Naoto's levels of tolerance for noise and socializing were equally low, and the sheer, dizzying number of people at the club had left her head pounding. They'd all blended into one bright smear of colours, their laughter and conversation blurring too into a raucous white noise she'd found herself drowning in. Yamato-Takeru had made things worse, insistently squawking at the edge of her mind until leaving early had become the only viable option.

Kanji had insisted on walking back to the hotel with her. He'd claimed he wasn't having fun either and wanted to leave. Naoto suspected that he simply didn't want her walking back alone, but rather than start an argument over the fundamental absurdity of such a position (she had a gun, for crying out loud) she'd chosen to acquiesce, largely due to exhaustion.

She fiddled with the brim of her cap. Despite Kanji's best efforts, it still smelled like strawberry milkshake. The convenience store sold cleaning sprays, one of which he'd already picked out and assured her would work. It was...nice of him, to offer to help. After that, he'd gone to the refreshments section and started picking out bag after bag of snacks and candy.

"Do you plan to eat all of that?" she asked, eyeing the bags in his grip.

"It's for the others. Thought they might not get much to eat at the party." He frowned. "Dunno how those kinda things work, to be honest. Maybe it's just booze."

"All of them are underage."

The frown deepened. "Better get soda too," he said, and headed over to the refrigerated drinks.

Kanji was being ridiculous. This was a normal state of affairs.

There were other states that were less normal, and far more troubling. Graduation meant change, a concept of which Naoto had never been fond. She would most likely be leaving Inaba, which troubled her even more. Despite – of course - being Yasogami High's top student, the plan had always been to return to her casework rather than bother with university at this stage. She'd made her intentions clear, but the teachers had still pushed her to apply. The teachers had also spent two years (into the office, Shirogane, there's something we should discuss) pushing her to abandon the boys' uniform. They'd pushed Kanji, too; threatened to have him expelled at the start of the third year for poor grades and 'anti-social behavior'. The latter was unfair. The former, less so, and Naoto had tried to coach him in his worst subjects – a gesture to which Kanji had taken offence on a remarkable number of occasions.

When he'd explained to Naoto exactly why, these occasions had made slightly more sense. Apparently she'd been a little more brusque in her teaching style than she'd intended - and might have possibly, potentially, accidentally implied that he was stupid.

Perhaps she'd been equally rude to leave the party early. Rise had been too busy smiling and shaking hands to really notice and the others hadn't seemed terribly surprised, but it was entirely possible Naoto was missing something. She couldn't help feeling equal parts guilty and glum. One thing Naoto had learned was that, bad as she was at making friends, she was just as terrible at having them. Rise and Chie had kindly attempted to cure her of that. Souji, too, in a gentle but slightly disconcerting manner that involved him being whatever Naoto needed him to be at any given point. The implication was clear: she needed to change to fit. There was some truth in that – discovering one's true self, so to speak - but there was also truth in remaining oneself. How far were you supposed to go? Flawed as she was, was reinvention the only way?

Kanji hadn't asked her to change. He always told her what she'd done wrong when asked, but never said don't do it again or do this instead. He was flawed too, though, and she would most certainly have pointed out his hypocrisy had there ever been a need. Which there hadn't.

He stumbled back toward her, soda bottles stacked in his arms. "Shit, I'm gonna drop all this."

"Most likely," Naoto said. It took a few moments before she realized what he was implying, and grabbed some of the bottles.

Naoto didn't actually object to walking back to the hotel with Kanji, even though it involved carrying enough snacks and drinks to sustain a small army. That said, after so long as friends she still felt slightly disquieted around him. They'd grown somewhat closer over the past year and he accepted her as she did him, but there had always been something else there: some cliff-edge she'd instinctively shied away from. An edge she was worried she'd now tumbled over.

Kanji was simple and complicated at the same time, a contradiction which neatly mirrored the rest of his character. Strong and gentle, abrasive and compassionate, as ready to throw a punch as sew a stuffed toy. Naoto suspected that in many ways, she was no different: male and female, child and adult, light and dark. It had been Kanji's aggressive side she had witnessed first, in the police reports of his fight with Inaba's solitary biker gang. A long time had passed before she'd come to appreciate his other aspects, yet once she had, they were hard to ignore.

One day at the end of second year, she'd been rejected for a case in Sumaru City. Such rejections had happened frequently and continued to do so now. However, this had been the fourth case in a row, and – unable to determine whether it was down to her age or the rapidly spreading rumours of her physical sex – Naoto had been stung. Months before she'd insisted to Souji that she no longer had any desire to be an adult male, but circumstances sometimes made it difficult to cling to that conviction. Everything had seemed simpler with Senpai here; simpler, perhaps, than it ever really was or could be.

She'd been walking back from the police station toward the bus stop at the edge of the shopping district when she'd passed Tatsumi Textiles. Kanji had been sweeping the front step. If he hadn't waved to her, Naoto told herself, she would have kept walking.

Either her posture or expression had given her away. He had asked what was wrong, and she'd spilled the entire thing.

Kanji had listened carefully, brow furrowed in thought. Then he'd said, They're morons, which had helped more than she liked to admit. You're fine as you are. If people don't get you, he'd continued, gesturing for emphasis, you hafta try to make them. And if they still don't, that's their problem.

She'd never cared for the opinions of others. It didn't matter what people thought provided you were the best – and she always was. So she still wasn't sure why she'd blurted out that it wasn't fair, it never had been and it never would.

No, it won't, Kanji had told her. So just be you. That's the best you can be, yeah?

Naoto had never truly noticed Kanji until he'd said that. She hadn't stopped noticing him since.

"I woulda wound up walking," Kanji said. "Thanks."

Once the rain had set in, Naoto had used her phone to identify the bus route that would bring them closest to the hotel: a trivial task which had seemed to greatly impress him. "As I have said, there is no need for gratitude."

He stared straight ahead, gripping the rail of the seats in front. "Yeah. I know."

Both fell quiet, the rain pattering against the metal roof of the bus.

"Naoki said it rained on graduation day," Kanji eventually said. "Gym was freezing."

"I didn't go."

"Me neither." He grinned at her. "Figured I might as well piss off the teachers one more time."

"They – they told me I had to wear the girls' uniform for formal events." Naoto shook her head and stared down at her hands. "I don't like roles being enforced. Being instructed in how to present myself."

Kanji hummed in thought. A few moments passed before he spoke. "They said they'd bust me too, even after I explained that the bleach was not gonna grow out in time."

"It's not the same," she said, without really thinking.

He shrugged. "No. But screw 'em anyway."