A/N: You might have noticed that Shortest Distance now has some awesome cover-art. It's by Kharta ( kharta DOT deviantart DOT com) and the link to the full-size version is in my profile (since FFN makes it horribly difficult to post links anywhere else)
He's a very talented guy, and does a lot of excellent Naoto-centric work. Definitely recommend checking out his DA page.
...Right, story time. Naoto interlude again.
(EDIT: Thanks to Tempest Kiro for helping figure out what I didn't make clear in the first version.)
Story so far: Kanji helped Souji narrowly survive being thrown in his uncle's television - but they both missed a very important call.
In this part: Naoto kicks out, and Kanji dives in.
December 5th, 2011
We found nothing, Souji had said, three hours ago in the snow outside Aiya. Maybe there was nothing to find.
The detective in Naoto vehemently disagreed with this on principle; refused even to entertain the possibility. The rest - exhausted from chasing one dead-end trail after another - wondered if Souji might have been absolutely right. He'd stood with her and Yosuke for fifteen minutes under the falling snow, all of them racking their brains and ransacking their memories for some sort of clue.
Finally, Yosuke had sighed, and said, It feels like the answer's lost in the fog.
But unsolved mysteries and unanswered questions were intolerable, as were criminals who went unpunished - and something in Yosuke's words had resonated with Naoto, tripped some mental switch. She'd quickly made her excuses and set out for the police station. Hours later, she was still sitting alone at her borrowed desk, poring over the reports from the first two murders. Almost all the other detectives were stuck in a protocol meeting, leaving her alone in the main office.
Inaba's fog now obscured everything beyond a two meter radius. Something lost in it could be far away - or merely a few inches out of reach. Could the same be true for this case?
Namatame had kidnapped his victims under the guise of a deliveryman, and had thus been near invisible to the general public. Presumably the true culprit was too. The police had combed the town for suspects, and found nothing - which alone said little given their incompetence, but neither Naoto nor the team had fared any better. Either the culprit was immensely talented at committing their crimes unnoticed, or-
Naoto paused.
Or they were hiding somewhere the police would never think to look.
An insider job? It was hardly an impossible scenario. She'd investigated one such case before, though that had involved fraud and corruption rather than murder. The trail had led to a network of perpetrators, including one of the detectives involved in the investigation.
For the fifth time, she flipped through the report on Saki Konishi's death. By now, she'd practically memorized the contents - but perhaps the crucial clue was not what the reports said, but who had filed them. Each of various forms and transcribed interviews were signed by two people. As head detective, Ishikawa had signed off on them all, while Dojima had signed only two, both at the tail end of the investigation. The rest all bore Adachi's chicken-scratch signature. Mayumi Yamano's file was more or less the same; Adachi had signed the evidence forms, the statement from Yukiko's mother concerning Yamano's presence at the inn, and the transcripts of the three interviews he conducted with Konishi.
...Three?
Interviewing a witness so many times was unusual. It might be justified if they were somehow been suspected of involvement, but Konishi had possessed both a solid alibi and no discernible motive. Besides, Tohru Adachi was hardly famed for his diligence. He'd been assigned as Yamano's bodyguard and yet hadn't been able to -
Hadn't been able to protect her. Hadn't tried to. Hadn't wanted to, because he -
"Not in the meeting, huh?"
Naoto glanced up. Adachi stood on the other side of the open plan office, wearing that smile: the broad, clueless one that had always been so irritating. He began to walk toward her.
"As a consultant, I'm not required to attend," she said, quickly sweeping the papers back into their files.
Adachi was in front of her desk now, hands shoved in the pockets of his rumpled suit. Daidara's comment when Kanji and Naoto had visited his shop had bothered her at the time, though she hadn't been able to explain why. Now, it made terrible sense.
"Man, you're lucky," Adachi said, with a shake of his head. His smile vanished, replaced by a concerned frown. "Hey, Shirogane - can we talk?"
She swallowed, hard. "About what."
"Dojima's nephew, Souji Seta. You're his friend, right?" Adachi looked down at her - angled brows, a slight crease in his forehead - then leaned over her desk and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I drove him home just now and I think he might be in some trouble."
...Of course.
Among the detectives, it was well-known, if never-mentioned, that whenever Dojima chose to drink himself into a stupor, Adachi would drive him home. Adachi knew where Dojima lived - and in turn, Souji. Delivering those notes would have been trivial.
"What sort of trouble, exactly?" Naoto heard herself ask.
Adachi glanced around the office, biting his lip - such a good actor, but then he had to be - then tipped his head toward the corridor. "C'mon. We'll talk it over in the interrogation room, fewer people eavesdropping."
"The office is empty at present."
"Only because of the meeting. They'll be back out soon, and you know what they're like." A roll of his eyes and a knowing smile, as if they were both in on some joke. "Trust me, my mouth's already gotten me in plenty of trouble."
Naoto had heard Dojima berate Adachi for a variety of transgressions. One of which had been his tendency to talk to Dojima's nephew and his friends, those damn kids are already mixed up in this crap somehow, Adachi, last thing I need is you making it worse. She'd seen him at Junes on multiple occasions while watching Souji and the others - never imagining that he might be doing exactly the same thing.
Ability to go unnoticed. Means to observe the team's activities. Knowledge of Souji's home address, and the ability to approach the house without arousing suspicion.
And, like that, the single missing piece of the puzzle finally snapped into place.
Naoto stood from her chair. "Very well, Adachi-san."
The interrogation room was the obvious choice. It was the only room in the building other than the break-room that contained a television. She glanced Adachi up and down: no real muscle tone, but still a head taller than her. She would not be able to overpower him alone. Her revolver was in its holster, tied to her ankle; one of the few ways an unlicensed consultant could discreetly bring a weapon into the station. If Adachi saw her reach down, he might guess she-
He grinned at her, stretched mouth and too many teeth. "Don't worry. This won't take long."
Naoto studied him for a long moment, one hand still gripping the back of her chair, then nodded.
They weaved through the cluttered desks, Adachi leading and Naoto following close behind, until they reached the doorway. He gestured for her to go through first, and it was so perfect - the ideal moment for her to make a break for the meeting room - that she darted forward without thinking.
She made it two steps into the corridor before Adachi grabbed her right arm and wrenched it behind her back. Startled, she tried instinctively to jerk out of his grip, until he twisted harder. Pain shot through her arm, forcing her to remain still.
Something rigid and sharp pressed against the small of her back, cold through her shirt. "What's the hurry, Shirogane?"
Her left arm was free, but Adachi's grip made it impossible to reach her holster. Escape was the best she could hope for.
Remain calm. Naoto reached out to Sukuna-Hikona on instinct, and heard nothing.
"We are in a police station," she whispered. "Shoot me, and you'll be brought down in seconds."
"And if I don't, you'll go blabbing to your friends all about big, bad Adachi-san." He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Which of us has more to lose?"
Her options were hopelessly limited. She could try to break out of his grasp, or demean herself by crying for help. The outcomes would be identical. Adachi had killed twice already. The third possibility was to do exactly as he said, and hope for an opening. Naoto forced her muscles to relax, a challenging task - particularly when he unhooked his handcuffs from his belt and cuffed her hands behind her back.
Obedience, in this case, might get her killed as surely as resistance. Adachi shoved her forward, gun still pressed against her back. As they started walking, she realized they were still heading toward the interrogation room.
"I have a P-Persona. If you throw me in, I can defend myself," she said, desperately willing the shake out of her voice. Adachi had heard it, and he let out a snide chuckle.
"You c-couldn't hold out forever, Sh-Shirogane," he mocked. "Not by yourself. Things have changed over there, believe me."
"Disposing of me will accomplish nothing. The others will put the pieces together."
"Not without Seta," Adachi said, almost offhandedly, and Naoto's stomach plunged. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, what he'd done, but he cut her off. "Besides, this is more for…personal satisfaction."
"What?"
"Let me tell you a story, kid. Back in the spring, some scrawny little brat with a big mouth barged his way into a murder investigation and treated everyone involved like idiots. Took all the credit too, once Kubo was found. Even got himself interviewed on a television show."
Naoto bristled on reflex. "I never wanted to be-"
"Then he went on TV for real. And we learned what a screwed-up guy he really was." Adachi chuckled again: a cold, hollow sound. "See, Shirogane, there's a whole bunch of rumours going around about you right now." He leaned in again, close enough that she could smell stale cigarette ash on his breath. "The kind that could really piss people off."
Naoto had never openly acknowledged her physical sex to any of her work colleagues. She'd heard the whispered comments, witnessed the confused stares, and she already knew there were rumours - but they'd stayed just that. Nobody had yet cared enough to pursue them. Naoto had fully expected problems when someone finally did. She hadn't, however, expected them from Adachi.
...No. Her personal situation had nothing to do with the case or Adachi's crimes. This was an attempt to confuse her, to distract her from planning her escape. She grit her teeth and tried to slow her breath before she spoke. "That is irrelevant, Adachi-san. Turn yourself in now and perhaps-"
Adachi swung her sharply left and shoved her face-first against the wall. The impact forced the breath from her lungs. "You never quit, do you?"
He'd wrenched her arms again, this time twisting them so the cuffs dug into her wrists. At least he couldn't see her wince. "My role is to-"
"Your role? How about 'annoying little shit'? Every other idiot in this department would've left Kubo to rot and let Namatame take the fall. But you, you always keep pushing," Adachi spat. "Typical interfering bitch."
Raw anger flared inside her. This was the reason she'd lied for so long, the Adachis she would've faced at every turn, and the frustrated, childish part of her wanted to lash out verbally, if not physically. The rational part realized they were approaching the break-room and that the door was open.
Naoto peeked inside as they passed, hoping to catch someone's eye. A small crowd of uniformed officers were engrossed in the baseball game being shown on TV. None of them looked up. She let Adachi push her forward, noting bitterly that when she didn't want people around, when she was pacing and thinking over the case, officers would throng every corridor.
"None of them paid attention, huh?" Adachi said. "You should be used to that."
Of course she was. And four months ago, she realized, she might've tried to fight him off, even knowing the likely consequences. The same logic that had driven her to engineer her own kidnapping solely because no-one had been willing to listen. But things had changed, hadn't they? She had friends who cared about her, she had a reason to-
"Hurry it up. We need to talk, don't we?" Adachi yanked her to a halt outside the interrogation room. He peered through the small window in the door, then cursed aloud. "Ah, shit. Why now?"
Either one of the detectives was conducting an interview - unlikely, given the meeting - or the officers were using the television again. Naoto had long suspected the only reason the interrogation room had a television was to avoid disagreements over the one in the break-room.
"Well, never mind." He shoved her forward again. "Plan B. Keep walking, Defective Priss."
"You've forgotten the security cameras," she said, knowing that he hadn't; that the Inaba PD's idea of internal security was a joke. "They've captured everything."
"Oh, good point!" Same clueless voice as always, though it quickly shifted into a sneer. "Shame nobody's watching the streams, right?"
"They will eventually." Presumably after her body was found. Or possibly Souji's.
Adachi sounded almost indifferent. "Probably. Once it's too late."
After a few more turns, it became obvious they were heading to the reception area. There would be someone working at the desk, someone who would notice Naoto's predicament and provide assistance. Naoto told herself this, desperately wanting to believe it was true and knowing that people rarely noticed that which was not obvious.
As they walked into the reception area, Adachi pressed closer against her, just before the officer working at the front desk glanced up. Takahira, one of the few uniformed officers who'd been somewhat nice to her; an action which, Naoto realized, had doubtless been unrewarding. "Leaving for the night, Shirogane-san?" he asked.
"Yes. Adachi-san is -" - and Adachi drove the gun's barrel into the small of Naoto's back - "- kind enough to transport me back to my apartment."
Takahira raised his eyebrows, his face breaking into a boyish grin. "Pretty nice of you, Detective Adachi-san."
"Eh, it's nothing. Just helping out." Adachi ruffled Naoto's hair with his free hand. "C'mon, let's get going. It's not safe to be out too late, right?"
From where Takahira was sitting, he wouldn't be able to see the cuffs, but he'd be certain to notice as they left the station. Naoto felt a flash of relief - until the phone rang at the desk and he turned away to answer. The moment he did, Adachi drove Naoto forward at twice the pace, almost making her stumble as he shoved open the glass doors and pushed her through.
Presumably he was taking her to his car. From there, to his apartment. It occurred to Naoto, then, why Adachi might've killed Yamano and Konishi, and what that meant for her - and, as they began to descend the steps to the sidewalk, Adachi slipping his phone back into his pocket, she finally lashed out.
The kick she aimed at Adachi's shins lacked power, but it was enough. Startled, he tripped down the steps, yelping with pain as he hit hard concrete.
Naoto, off-balance from the kick, stumbled forward too - slipping on the iced-over snow clinging to the second step. Momentum kicked in, and she half ran, half threw herself down the steps - then kept going.
She'd barely hit the sidewalk when she heard Adachi behind her. "You stupid bitch!"
Unsurprisingly, the street was deserted. The snow had started again and the air was frigid. There had been no opportunity to grab her coat, either - but her phone was in her back pocket. If she could somehow reach it, contact the others, then-
The thought was lost. Adachi smashed into her from behind, grabbing her shoulders by both hands and throwing her to the ground. She twisted as she landed, trying to avoid a face-full of snow and gravel - and turned her head in time to catch Adachi's fist. A resounding crack filled her ears, her jaw instantly throbbing and her lip tearing open on her teeth.
Naoto suppressed the cry of pain and, on instinct, slammed her heel of her boot directly into Adachi's face. He almost squealed, staggering back with what she hoped was a broken nose - and she launched another kick, a sweep into the side of his head.
He crashed to the ground. Naoto pulled herself up. She'd lost her cap in the fall but there was no time to retrieve it. Instead she ran, this time toward the parking lot - the only place with any cover - and darted behind one of the police vans. Despite the cuffs, she managed to tug her phone from her back pocket, drop it to the ground, then grab it with one of her hands.
When she'd first put the team members on speed dial, she'd felt a little ridiculous. Phone calls were not something she enjoyed, and she doubted others would enjoy conducting them with her. Now, she was grateful for whatever spark had made her decided to program Souji's number as the first button.
His phone rang, faintly, then rang again, and again.
Suddenly, Naoto remembered Adachi's comment. Not without Seta.
Souji might be unable to help. Barely pausing to think, she hit the second button. Again the phone rang, too many times. Finally it connected, to the faint sound of Kanji's voice.
"Yo, this is Kanji Tatsumi. I dunno why you're callin', but leave a message and I'll get back t'ya."
His answerphone. A brief, sickening realization hit - that Kanji might be in the same situation as Souji - then all but vanished as Adachi ran past the police van, cursing out load. He swung round a few meters ahead, barely visible in the thick fog, presumably searching for her.
Naoto took a chance, and ran.
A bullet flashed past on her right almost before she heard it fire, and her left arm burst with pain just below the shoulder. Ignore it. A graze. She'd experienced it before, one of the few times she'd helped apprehend a suspect, and she knew enough to keep running. Though the fog had muffled the sound, the firing of a bullet might still be loud enough to be heard inside the station. Adachi had to be desperate. That desperation could either work to Naoto's advantage, or get her killed.
She was running out of parking lot. Scaling the surrounding walls would be difficult with cuffed hands. As she passed another van, she pivoted, dropped to the ground - gritting her teeth against the shrieking pain in her arm - and rolled underneath the vehicle. Adachi was snarling something again, far too near, but her heartbeat was pounding in her ears and she couldn't make out the words.
If she'd been fast enough, he wouldn't have seen her in the fog - but she'd been bleeding when she rolled. In the dim light from the streetlamps, it might not be as obvious, and after two savage blows to the head, he might not even think to look. But if he did...
Footsteps crunched nearby on frozen snow. Adachi had stopped talking now. Instead there was the sound of his ragged breathing, mixed with the occasional muttered curse. Naoto flattened herself against the ground, hardly daring to breathe. Then, after what felt like hours, the footsteps receded - followed by the faint sound of a car door slamming, and an engine turning over. Headlights swept across the lot, almost under the van - and moments later, the sound of the engine vanished.
Naoto stayed motionless for what felt like hours more, flat on her stomach, watching the snow under her left biceps turn dark.
Adachi had presumably left - but perhaps he just wanted her to think that, he'd been so determined to harm her - but she couldn't see him through the narrow gap between the van and the ground - but the fog would hide anyone more than a few meters away. Naoto kept twisting these theories in her head, adding and adding. Finally, in a lucid instant, she realized her overthinking was putting her in danger of hypothermia.
She took a deep breath to steel herself and rolled out from under the van. Pain seared through her left arm, but she was able to push herself to her feet.
Help. She needed to get help, warn the others. But when she stumbled back to the first van, where she'd called Kanji, Naoto found her cellphone smashed into numerous pieces. Thinking to re-enter the station instead, she made her way through the fog to the entrance of the parking lot - and almost staggered directly into Souji and Kanji, both standing on the sidewalk with equally wide-eyed expressions.
Kanji was the first to react. "Naoto! Shit, I thought you were…" He trailed off with a sharp shake of his head. He was, Naoto noted, holding her cap in his hands.
…Why were they even here? She hadn't been able to leave a useful message on his phone and they lacked the ability to track her own. "How did you-"
"We called the station," Souji said. His voice was calm, but the tremble at the edge of it sparked a sudden flare of guilt. "They said you'd just left with Adachi. We thought maybe if we got here quickly enough-"
"Dammit, Naoto!" Kanji broke in, with an aggressive swipe at thin air. "We've been callin' you the whole frickin' way here! Why the hell didn't you pick up?"
Because I was hiding under a van and my phone is in seventeen separate pieces, Naoto considered saying. Fortunately, Souji spoke first.
"Kanji," he said, warningly, then frowned at Naoto's shoulder. "What happened to your arm?"
Of course. She'd let herself be distracted and they still had to catch him and it was so damn cold and-
Naoto took a deep breath. "Adachi. It was Adachi. He's the killer."
"I know." Souji stepped forward to look at her arm more closely. Kanji still hadn't moved. "Where is he now?"
"He took his car. I don't know where he went."
For a brief moment, Souji's expression turned tense - then broke into a gentle smile that was probably intended to be encouraging. It didn't fully work, but Naoto appreciated the effort. He took the cap from Kanji's hands and placed it on her head. "Well, I hope you gave as good as you got."
"B-Better, I hope." She felt a little deflated, and wanted to ask exactly how and why Souji already knew about Adachi, but now wasn't the time. Far more important they catch him first. Questions could come later. "Could you- -he cuffed my hands. The keys are universal, there should be one in Dojima-san's office. Top drawer of his desk." She'd noticed it thrown in there once, along with coins, paper scraps, and too many empty cigarette packets.
Souji nodded. "Wait here. I'll send Uehara-san over too." With that, he jogged down the sidewalk toward the station entrance, quickly vanishing into the fog.
Naoto turned to Kanji. "Uehara-san?"
"Nurse lady. Lives near Senpai. She drove us here." He was staring; first at Naoto's injured arm, then at her bloody lip. "Adachi did that to you?"
"N-No. I mean - yes. But it's nothing."
Kanji looked unconvinced. Why had she tried to lie? An irrational action, but she was tired and cold and - and Kanji was shrugging off his coat, if he dared to try to-
He draped it over her shoulders, careful to avoid her arm, then tried to fasten the top button - but his hands were shaking, and his fingers brushed against her neck. Naoto immediately flinched. The look she caught in Kanji's eyes made her wish she hadn't.
"Y-You can take it off when Senpai brings the key," he said, looking away. "Just - figured you'd be cold."
"I -" About to stumble into another lie, she stopped, let out a breath, and tried again. "I was. Thank you."
She'd half-expected Kanji to jump on that - saying what, she had no idea - but instead he kept looking away, glowering at what appeared to be a random spot on the sidewalk.
"My shirt. The bullet tore it. Perhaps you - could show me how to fix it." It was hardly worth the effort; the fabric was damp with snow and blood, and the shirt hadn't been one of Naoto's favourites. But she felt the odd, desperate need to say something - or rather, anything that might change Kanji's expression.
He looked at her, cheeks red from the cold, then at her shirt sleeve. "...Ain't worth it, Naoto. The blood won't come outta that fabric."
She swallowed. "Ah."
Kanji kept staring at the sleeve. "That lying, murdering bastard," he muttered. "Who the hell beats up on-"
Naoto shot him a sharp glare. Her tone was sharper still. "On whom?"
"On any of us. On you." Kanji ran a hand through his hair, snowflakes catching on his gloved fingers. "I-I don't care if y'hurt him back, he still-"
"There you are!"
Naoto snapped her head toward the voice. A slim, dark-haired woman was heading toward them, clad in a pale pink puffy coat and carrying a first-aid kit at her side. "Souji told me you were by the parking lot, but it's so hard to see anything in this fog..."
Kanji dipped his head. "Thanks, Uehara-san."
His earlier words still rang in Naoto's ears, loaded with implications, and she barely registered Uehara lifting the coat from her injured side. "Your left arm, isn't it? Let me take a look." She studied the wound, then hummed thoughtfully. "I can bandage it to stem the bleeding, but it's possible you'll need stitches. You'll have to get checked out at the hospital."
"Good thing that's where we're going." Souji appeared through the fog, brandishing a small silver key. He slipped behind Naoto and unlocked the cuffs, finally relieving her aching muscles. "I need to make sure Uncle and Nanako-chan are safe. Kanji, you call Yosuke and Chie. I'll contact Yukiko, and Teddie and Rise." He leaned down to Naoto. "And Naoto, let Uehara-san patch you up."
Adachi was already on the road. They were wasting time. Naoto opened her mouth to object, but the two very different looks Souji and Kanji gave her were identical in their effect. She nodded, resigned, and followed Uehara to her car.
They pulled into the hospital parking lot twenty minutes later. Thanks to Uehara's driving - at breakneck speed, and on icy roads - Naoto felt considerably worse than when they'd left the police station. Or perhaps the adrenaline rush had just worn off. For whatever reason, her jaw and arm both ached far more than before and she was distinctly light-headed. She leaned back against the side of Uehara's car, eyes screwed shut.
"We should head inside," Souji was saying. "You need to get your arm looked at, Naoto, and I need to check on my family. I know we told the others we'd wait, but…"
Naoto opened her eyes, blinking against the still-falling snow. "Based on my knowledge and assumptions concerning their respective locations, they are unlikely to arrive for some time."
"…Exactly. And the longer we wait..." Souji stopped. "We're not waiting. He might not even be here. And if he is - I'll handle it alone if I need to."
"You won't," Kanji said, huddled down into his sweater. Naoto was still wearing his over-sized coat. "I ain't letting that son-of-a-bitch hurt anyone else."
Souji gave a grim nod, then turned toward her. "Naoto, you should go to the emergency room and-"
"No," she insisted. "I have as much right to be here as either of you." Arguably more than Kanji, who hadn't been thrown in a television or shot at in a parking lot. Yet he'd barely said a word during the drive here, and his expression remained dark and thunderous.
Uehara was standing nearby, phone held to her ear. She flipped it shut and turned to Souji. "I just called the third floor," she said. "Your uncle's fine, a nurse is with him. But I can't get through to anyone on the fifth."
"Whassat mean?" growled Kanji.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Probably that they're busy. We don't sit around all night waiting to answer phones."
"Then I'd better go up there myself." Souji was already walking toward the hospital entrance, and the others hurried after him.
"Seta-kun - what's going on here?" Uehara asked. "Adachi attacked your friend. Shouldn't the police be handling this?"
"They haven't bothered all year. Doubt they'll start now."
The four of them walked through the sliding doors of the entrance, crossed the lobby, and headed toward the row of elevators down the corridor from reception. Naoto was grateful for the sudden warmth, more for Kanji's sake than her own.
…Illogical. Not only had he been foolish enough to loan a coat to someone who would bleed on it, he'd then refused to take it back. She thought then of the picnic at the riverside, when Teddie had knocked her into the water and Kanji had shared his coat. He'd been much more accommodating then. But this time was different, for many reasons - and as she glanced sideways at him, Naoto felt a sudden wave of foreboding.
Souji's gazed drifted over the numbers above each elevator as they rose and fell. "I'll go to the fifth floor. If Adachi's there, I'll -" He paused, and let out a breath. "Well, I'll see."
Kanji shook his head. "It's not 'I'."
"What?"
"I. You keep saying 'I' - but you ain't doin' this by yourself."
Yet Souji appeared intent on just that. As much as Naoto was grateful for her friends, that gratitude did not compensate for her inexperience in having them. Weeks had passed since the fight with Namatame and she'd thought that any animosity between her and Souji had dissipated, but was that truly the case? "Kanji-kun is correct, Senpai. Is a lack of trust the issue?"
Souji stared at her for a moment, brow furrowed, before his expression quickly leveled out. "I - trust you both," he managed. "But Adachi...Naoto, he threw me into the TV and tried to murder you in the street. He's dangerous."
"So?" Kanji smacked his fist into his palm. "That bastard's the real reason Nanako-chan got hurt! We can take him, Senpai, we've been beatin' down Shadows all year!"
Uehara's eyes narrowed. "Shadows?"
A bell dinged, and the nearest elevator opened. Souji held the doors, but didn't step inside. "We're not fighting that sort of monster, Kanji, not anymore. And this - if it's between me and him, that's fine. I don't want anyone else to get involved."
"Can't always get what you want, Senpai," Kanji muttered, and barged past him into the elevator.
They rode the five floors up in silence. It continued when they exited on the fifth floor, and as they walked briskly through the corridors - but was finally broken when they rounded the corner to Nanako's room, and saw Adachi walk out and close the door behind him.
He'd been in there. Had he just-
"Adachi!" Souji roared, and Naoto cringed inwardly, knowing he'd cost them the element of surprise.
Adachi glanced up, wide-eyed, a massive purple bruise already blossoming over his nose and cheeks. Then, he registered the four of them standing there - and took two unsteady steps back.
"Shit - he's gonna -" Kanji started - just as Adachi turned on his heels. "C'mere, you bastard!"
Souji was already halfway through the door to Nanako's room, Uehara close behind. Kanji was barreling after Adachi. Naoto, still light-headed, threw herself into a run after him.
Small and quick as she was, she couldn't catch up. Her earlier injuries and Kanji's raw fury combined kept her a meter behind him at all times. Likewise, he couldn't reach Adachi. They sped around another corner, Adachi leading them into a long, straight corridor - but he ran only a few meters before making a sharp turn into one of the patient rooms. Kanji did likewise, bellowing in rage, and Naoto followed - just in time to see Adachi dive headfirst inside a large television.
Kanji was right behind him.
Naoto's eyes widened. "Kanji-kun!"
There was no time to say anything else. The final syllable was still on her lips as he lunged forward, as if trying to grab Adachi from behind, and plunged straight through the screen.
The room was silent. And Kanji had just-
Naoto ran to the television. She pressed a hand against the screen and let it slip through. Cold air brushed her fingers, but nothing else.
One of the old worlds, a maelstrom of Shadows, a plunge into sheer nothingness - she had no idea where this television led. Where Kanji and Adachi had gone.
Where she might need to follow them.
No. The idea alone was ridiculous, she should wait for Souji, she should-
"Naoto!"
Naoto gripped the lower edge of the television set and - with Souji's sharp cry ringing in her ears - jumped through the screen.