Quite a few reviews last time. Almost as if you guys had been waiting for something.

...Can't imagine what, though.

This one is a bit shorter. Also possibly infuriating. Next will be a Naoto interlude.

Thanks to the reviewers (PSKira, The Gray Phantom, MFG, anonymous guests) whom I can't respond to via messages, and to Tempest Kiro, who pointed out an error in my understanding of the Japanese legal system. Also, to MFG – don't worry, I haven't abandoned this story. My updates just tend to be slow due to time constraints (plus the previous chapter was hugely long)

Story so far: The team took down Ameno-sagiri in Super-Persona style. Kanji and Naoto responded by (as usual) hedging around each other, then (not as usual) sharing an awkward kiss at Souji's Christmas not-quite-party, after which Naoto ran away.

In this part: A snowman, a fist-fight by the river, an uncomfortable shrine visit – and a long train ride out of Inaba.

December 24th 2011

He hadn't stayed at Souji's place afterward. There was no way he could. He'd gone straight home instead, traipsed back through the snow in a numb, shattered sort of silence, trying to ignore the heavy feel of his cellphone in his pocket. Hoping it might ring anyway, that Naoto would call or text or do something to help him start to pick up the pieces. Three hours on, close to midnight, she still hadn't contacted him.

Kanji had already sent two texts, both variations on are you okay, talk to me. No answer. It'd seemed like the only thing he could do at the time, but now he felt stupid and lame and desperate just for sending them. That feeling didn't stop him from grabbing his phone again, tapping through the address book for Naoto's name, and dialing her number. The phone rang too many times, his stomach sinking a little further with each one, and soon the call clicked over to her voicemail.

"This is Naoto Shirogane. I'm unavailable right now, but please leave a message."

Short and to the point. Kanji would've liked to keep his own response the same, but a strange, corkscrewing feeling started up in his gut midway through her recorded greeting and quickly spiraled up to his throat. "H-Hi," he stumbled. "S'me. We gotta talk. I-I know you probably don't want to, but I - I want us to fix things, y'know?" A swallow, so hard he was sure she'd hear it on playback. "I'm - I'm not—I didn't mean to—" But that wasn't true. He had meant to kiss her. He stopped, swore under his breath, regretted it almost immediately. "S-Sorry. I just - call me back, yeah?"

After that, he quickly hung up, knowing he'd ramble on for minutes if he didn't and that he'd only say the same thing over and over. Ball was in Naoto's court now. Better to just forget it. He still took his phone with him to the bathroom when he cleaned himself up; held it in his hand as he changed out of his day clothes; and kept it beside him as he lay sprawled on the bed, unable to sleep for the drawn-out, burning ache in his chest.

December 25th 2011

Yosuke glanced over his shoulder at the girls in the kitchen, then ducked his head and whispered, "So what the heck happened?"

"Nothing," Kanji said, drumming his fingers against the table in front of him.

The party at the Dojimas' should've been fun – a big celebration of the fog finally vanishing, the case being kind-of solved, and Nanako being allowed to visit home – but it was already shaping up to be one of his most awkward experiences to date. The saving grace was that the girls had roped Naoto into helping them create something that might one day hope to pass for a cake, meaning she was busy in the kitchen.

She'd shown up late, and then only after a barrage of text messages from Rise. Kanji had half-expected her to skip out completely. Guilty as it made him feel, he wished she had. Better that than them being in the same room while she pretended he didn't exist. She hadn't even looked at him as she walked in the house; had made a point of not looking, with her cap tipped down and her gaze fixed firmly on the kitchen counter.

"No, seriously," Yosuke persisted. "Something happened. Like, 'run-off-into-the-night' something."

Hanamura's heart was probably in the right place, but shit, Kanji didn't want to deal with this right now. He shot a quick glance at Naoto, who was making a desperate grab for the container of wasabi paste in Rise's hand, then shook his head. "Don't matter," he said, and, in an effort to change the subject, turned to Nanako. "Hey, Nanako-chan, you doing better now?"

Nanako gave a firm nod. Soon as Dojima had brought her inside, she'd homed in on Souji and tucked herself in close beside him at the table. "Much better. And the new kotatsu is great!"

Yosuke let out an exaggerated sigh, loud enough that Dojima looked up from his newspaper on the sofa. "Yeah. When I'm face-down on the table after my first bite of cake, I'll take comfort in the warmth."

Mystery Food X, Christmas edition. Like today didn't suck enough. If Kanji were more inclined toward melodrama, he would've thought the girls poisoning him might be a good thing.

...Fine, maybe he did. Just a little.

"You should thank Souji and Hanamura, Nanako-chan," Dojima said. "They bought the kotatsu yesterday so it'd be all ready for you."

Nanako beamed at Souji and Yosuke in turn. "Thanks!" Then her smile faded. "Sorry I wasn't there too. If I'd gotten better sooner, we could've all chosen it together."

Souji squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry. It came from Junes, so when it breaks next week we can pick out another."

"Hey!" Yosuke protested.

Attention still on Nanako, Souji ignored him. "Will you be okay sitting with Teddie and Yosuke for a bit?" he asked her.

"No problem, Big Bro!"

"Good girl." Souji stood from the table, eyes on Kanji, and tipped his head toward the front door. "C'mon, Kanji, let's step outside."

The request – order, even, with that easy yet commanding tone Kanji had heard dozens of times before – brought him up short. He found himself standing from the table almost automatically, and walked over to the door to slip on his shoes.

It wasn't snowing out, but the air was still chilly even through his thick sweater. He watched Souji close the door and lean against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets. "So," Souji asked. "What happened last night?"

Great. Now Senpai was starting too. "Nothin'."

"'Nothing' doesn't make people bolt down stairs and out of the house, or make other people run after them." Souji was clearly pushing, but gently. It still didn't stop Kanji tensing, a sudden tightness that seemed to pull through his shoulders and down his back. "You can tell me the truth, Kanji."

The truth? Where did he even start? I screwed it all up, Naoto freaked the hell out, now we probably aren't even friends. Kanji stopped, swallowed to steady his voice, and decided on the simplest, most honest answer. "W-We kissed. Then she ran."

Souji blinked at him. "Huh."

"...Huh what?"

"I – uh, didn't think you'd get that far, to be honest." He rubbed the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. "I mean, it's been months."

"You told me to go up there an' talk to her!" Kanji snapped, frustrated and fierce, unable to catch himself in time. Railing off at someone who'd only been trying to help, in the end. He rubbed a hand over his face, then let out a long breath. "Sorry."

Several moments passed, with Senpai just watching him – weighing him, even – before Souji's gaze dropped to the ground. "Yeah, I did."

It wasn't Souji's fault. It wasn't even Naoto's, really, because how could it be? Meaning it had to be Kanji's. Process of elimination - and wouldn't Naoto be proud of him for thinking like that – but which part had he'd gotten so badly wrong? The part when he'd kissed her? When he'd confessed to her? When he'd let himself believe for one lousy second that she might feel the same way back? He gulped past a tight knot in his throat, trying to fight off the sharp heat pricking at the corners of his eyes. "And now she won't even look at me, and I-I don't get where I messed up. I – she kissed back, y'know? It wasn't like I—"

"I know," Souji cut in, hand raised. "I'd never think any different."

At least that was a relief. In recent years, people had always assumed the worst of Kanji, and he couldn't stand the idea that anyone would think he'd do something Naoto didn't want, much less the thought of actually doing it. Except maybe she hadn't wanted it, after all. Maybe it'd been a mistake, a split-second lapse that'd caused him to lose not only someone he was in love with, but also one of his few close friends. Maybe she'd wanted Souji all along, even if he hadn't felt the same way back. Or who knew, maybe she'd snap out of the whole thing in a couple of days. Pretend like it'd never happened, go back to the same back-and-forth of tension and obliviousness she and Kanji had stewed in before.

Kanji wasn't sure which option was worse.

"Don't tell the others," he blurted, with a glance back at the front door – as if everyone would be all crammed up against it on the other side, listening in. "I just wanna forget about it."

Souji's eyebrows arched. "You do?"

"Yeah." Kanji said it as firmly as he could, like that would somehow make it easy, make it real. "Naoto does too."

"Have you asked her?"

He hadn't needed to fake certainty on that one. "She's ignored me since we - since last night. S'all the answer I need."

Souji opened his mouth, to say what Kanji had no idea - then snapped it shut again as the front door flew open.

Teddie barreled out of the house, bundled up in coat and hat and gloves. "Sensei! Nana-chan says that while we're waiting for the cake, you can help me build a snowman for her!" He glanced at Kanji, and his mouth curved into a bright grin. "Kanji-chan can help too."

Shit, had he heard everything that—no, no. This was Ted. Wouldn't matter if he'd listened in or not. Kanji forced a smile. "Alright, sounds good."

They went further down the street and salvaged what snow they could from the drifts along the sides of the houses. The grit had melted a good chunk of it and the rest was a little too powdery to pack well, but they still managed to fashion a small, sort-of-snowman, and Ted didn't seem any less thrilled. Yosuke soon showed up, armed with spare buttons and stones and other junk suitable for decoration, and at the end, Souji took off his scarf and slipped it round the snowman's neck. And it'd felt really nice, just doing something that took Kanji's mind off everything, especially with the promise of hot cocoa and tea afterward (and a cake that, you never knew, might not actually kill anyone). It wasn't until they all went back inside the house and his gaze briefly caught Naoto's – both of them averting their eyes a split-second later - that he remembered.

"Yo, Nanako-chan," he called, before he'd taken off his shoes and gloves. "Wanna come see your snowman?"

Nanako was still a little unsteady on her feet, but quickly made her way to the door. Ted, of course, wanted to go straight back out too. As the two of them got dressed in their outdoor clothes, Kanji stood in the genkan, tried to pretend he hadn't noticed Souji studying him, and kept his eyes firmly away from Naoto.

December 27th, 2011

There'd been no fresh snowfall over the past couple of days, so what was left on the ground looked muddy and iced-over. Being a popular route home from Yasogami High, the path down by the riverbank was particularly riddled with footprints. Fortunately, at this time in the early evening it was mostly deserted.

Kanji had hung around at school later than normal, not because of sewing club or getting bitched out by the teachers, but because of Naoto. She'd stayed in the faculty office for at least half-an-hour for who knew what reason, and he should've just packed up his stuff and gone straight home - had told himself he would, the whole time he'd spent standing near the lockers in the first-floor corridor, waiting for Naoto to come by. He'd just wanted to talk. Straighten stuff out. Figure out if they were still friends, though he doubted that one. But when Naoto had finally surfaced from the office – looking as tired and pale as if she'd just rolled out of a long stint in the TV world – he'd chickened out. Walked away from the lockers and stood further down the corridor, then inspected the wall till he'd heard her push open the main door and step out into the schoolyard.

...What the hell was up with him? Moping around over her, then being too chickenshit to even ask for a straight answer? Kanji aimed a kick at a clump of frozen snow. Unfortunately, instead of exploding, the clump just caved in, soaking the fabric of his trousers. He might've launched into an enthusiastic bout of cursing, if he hadn't been interrupted by a sudden yell from down by the river.

Was someone in trouble? Though if anything, they sounded pissed off. Curious, he walked over to the nearest set of steps and looked around. Down on the bank were two figures: two very familiar figures, the first of whom was midway through walloping the second in the face.

Holy crap, what were Souji and Yosuke doing?

Kanji bounded down the grit-covered steps to the river bank, landing feet-first in a patch of muddy snow. Yosuke seemed to be gearing up for a left swing, so Kanji quickly dodged behind him, grabbed his arms, and yanked him back.

"Hey!" he complained. "Leggo!"

"What, so you can belt Souji-senpai round the head?"

"It's fine, Kanji." Souji was almost doubled over with his palms flat against his thighs, and his breath coming hard and ragged. "Let him go."

Let him go?

Kanji blinked at Souji for a split-second, arms still looped underneath Yosuke's - then, without really thinking about it, released him. Senpai had that effect on people. He didn't, far as Kanji knew, usually have the effect of making his friends want to hit him. "The hell's going on here?" Kanji muttered, glancing between both Yosuke and Souji.

Souji pawed at his nose. "...I guess that looked bad."

"I feel better now," Yosuke said cheerfully, wiping blood off his chin with his sleeve.

"Good for you," snapped Kanji, "but I still don't get what the hell you were doin'."

Yosuke rolled his shoulders and winced slightly at the movement. "We just had to work a few things out. Man to man."

In a way, Kanji could appreciate that. He'd taken on those bikers, after all. Sometimes a man had do man stuff. Seemed kinda weird for 'man stuff' to include beating the crap out of your best friend, but who was he to judge? "You okay with—" he began to ask Souji, just to make sure, then realized Yosuke had frozen in place - frowning blankly at a nondescript pile of snow, hand halfway raised to his mouth.

Two seconds later, he shook his head, eyes wide. "Whoa."

"He changed, didn't he?" Souji said quietly. "I felt him."

"Yeah, he—yeah." Yosuke crouched down in the snow, hands pressed over his knees. "Sorry. Kinda dizzy."

Changed? "What're you talking about?" Kanji asked.

"Jiraiya. He's – not, any more." Yosuke hesitated - then, like the words didn't quite fit on his tongue, continued, "Susano-O. That's who he is now."

Like with Chie, Yukiko and Ted. Personas changing, becoming stronger or more resilient. Kanji had never asked any of his friends when or how it'd happened, figuring that kind of stuff was deeply personal. A Persona was you, after all. If it changed, then something about you had too, and in a profound way. It was probably a good thing, but – personal. Kanji almost felt bad for witnessing whatever had just happened to Yosuke's, like he'd eavesdropped on something he shouldn't have. Particularly since Yosuke's emotional level-up had involved getting punched in the face.

"So...that's how it happens, huh?" Yosuke managed to stand again, though he still looked unsteady. "Guess I'd been wondering."

"Yeah," said Souji, smiling. "Sorry it took so long."

"Why did it?" Kanji blurted, and didn't add, when do I get mine.

Souji's smile faltered. "That's...kind of complicated."

Yosuke shot a glance at Kanji, then shrugged. "We've got time."

This clearly wasn't the answer Souji had been hoping for. He shifted awkwardly in place – suddenly seeming vulnerable, somehow, a look that was wrenchingly unfamiliar on him. He wiped at his nose again, then rubbed a hand over his chin.

"Chie and Yukiko," he started, oddly. "I spent a lot of time with them, helping them work through their problems."

"Did you brawl with them by the river too?" asked Yosuke.

"Nope. I value my life," Souji deadpanned. Then he turned his head, gaze fixed on the surface of the river and the chunks of ice that'd piled up against the bank. "We just talked. And when they - reached a realization, I guess...their Personas changed. And after that, they didn't need me anymore."

At one stage, it'd seemed like everyone had needed Souji. The tables had been turned later – him needing them, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it – but it didn't change the effect he'd had on the team. The way he'd guided them through their problems, both individually and as a group. Kanji frowned, confused. "So? Thass good, right?"

"I thought so too. But then we - just stopped spending time together."

"Because of what happened with Namatame?" Yosuke said.

"No, not just that. They were always busy. And when I approached them, all I could feel were other arcana tugging at me instead. Other Personas urging me to make them stronger." Souji rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then dropped his hand to his side. "I feel it happening with Ted now too, and even people who aren't part of the team." He let out a breath. "I haven't really spoken with Naoki or Kou in ages."

"I don't get it," Kanji cut in. "They don't have Personas."

"No, but—" Souji stopped short, then shook his head. "Like I said, it's complicated. But all of it...kind of put me off hanging out with anyone. The two of you, Rise...and then there was everything with Nanako-chan and Namatame, and I just stopped even..." He trailed off, then looked back at the both with a regretful, almost ashamed half-smile. "Some friend I was."

Yosuke stepped forward and smacked him lightly on the arm. "C'mon, dude. Don't be like that."

Souji was obviously trying to keep his voice even, but there was an undercurrent of gloom that Kanji couldn't ignore. "I don't know whether the same's going to happen with you, now," he said to Yosuke.

"I won't let it," Yosuke instantly shot back.

"Same," Kanji insisted. "If Take-Mikazuchi changes, so what? You're still gonna be my buddy."

Souji offered them both a weak smile. Like he wasn't sure whether to believe them but didn't want to lose face, and the thought made Kanji cringe a little inside.

"Thanks, guys," he said. "Maybe it won't happen at all now we've solved the case." A pause. He wiped a hand over his face again, stopping to rub twice over his mouth, then looked away again, shoulders slightly slumped. "I—it's so much better when people need me. When I know what I have to give and what I can take. Without that...I don't know how to navigate."

Yosuke rolled his eyes. "You don't have to 'navigate', dork. You're not a boat. It's about just getting along with people, you know? You're great at that."

Again, Souji shook his head. "The bonds came automatically. It was never that way before I came to Inaba - but it's amazing what you forget."

Bonds. Souji had used that word before. He'd always made making friends seem as natural as breathing. Kanji couldn't imagine what would happen to change that, or a former Souji who wouldn't have known how to do it. For want of anything better, he stepped forward and clapped Senpai on the back with one hand.

Souji winced at the impact, but shifted the expression into a grin a moment later. It was slightly too tight – nervous, as well, and that melancholy edge hadn't gone - but Kanji figured it was a start.

December 31st

By Saturday, after six taut and stretched-out days, things had more or less settled into a routine.

Naoto would ignore Kanji at school and skip any and all group meetings at Junes. In return, he would avoid texting her, avoid calling her, avoid her in general. It sounded simple. Shame it hurt like hell. And every single time he thought about what'd happened - five, ten, fifty times a day, because he was too lame to ever let anything go - the memory would rush through him all over again: everything from the feeling of Naoto's mouth on his and the texture of her hair between his fingers, to how his legs had cramped up in that stupid narrow landing. The way she'd looked at him beforehand, blue-grey eyes with a spark behind them, like she'd finally let herself understand. Every time, he tried to push the thoughts and feelings out of his head, and it seemed like that might be getting slightly closer to possible - but Kanji wasn't sure he could tell. Wasn't sure he could trust himself anyway, when he was still hung up on something that'd so obviously been a disaster.

It'd thrown off things with everyone else, too. Either he couldn't talk to them about what'd happened, or – in Souji's case – he could, and knew full well he didn't really want to. Not because it was Senpai, but because talking wouldn't change what'd happened and it wouldn't stop the sick taste of humiliation and rejection in the back of his throat. And around everyone else, it just felt like Kanji was faking. Putting on an act to stave off questions, even though nobody had actually asked any yet. Not even Rise, who he'd always figured for being the most aggressively interested in her friends' personal lives. He was still half-expecting her to start, though, and so, when Ma asked him to deliver New Year's cards on Saturday evening – not his ideal activity at the best of times – he was dreading going to Marukyu Tofu most of all.

And, sure enough, when he reached the tofu shop at around three, Rise was outside, wearing her white apron and sweeping the front steps clean of snow. There'd been a fresh, light fall earlier in the afternoon. Kanji couldn't remember it snowing this much last year or the year before, but after almost two months solid of thick fog, even the TV pundits didn't seem that surprised by Inaba's weather anymore.

As he approached the shop, Rise pulled the broom upright and leant against the handle. "Hey, Kanji-kun!"

"Ma says Happy New Year," he mumbled, and shoved a card into her free hand.

"And you don't?" she started, pouting, then stopped to inspect the card more closely. "Ooh, that's pretty."

"Yeah. Well, see ya." Kanji turned to leave, then felt the broom's wooden handle tap him on the shoulder.

"Hey, hold on, Kanji-kun. We could at least talk for a bit. You've been grumpy and quiet all week. Or even grumpier than usual."

He shrugged, more aggressively than he'd intended. "Wasn't prepped to be all chatty, s'all." It was only sort of a lie. "Didn't expect to see you out here."

"The fog's gone," Rise said, gesturing around the street. "I don't hear everything now, so I don't need to hide indoors." She smiled at him, bright and easy and above all relieved. "I'm so, so happy we won."

"Was kinda rough for you, huh."

"Maybe. Other people were worse off, but..." She trailed off, and he noticed her knuckles whiten a little around the handle of the broom. "That was the first time that I wished I didn't have a Persona. It was like being bombarded with sounds and images, and almost all of them bad." She tapped her forefinger against her temple. "But now, things are quieter up here."

Kanji grinned at her. "Empty, y'mean?"

"Don't make me throw this at you," Rise said, brandishing the broom like a spear.

"Might stay quiet forever, now we don't need to go back in the TV anymore." The idea had been playing on his mind. Trying to solve the case, fighting Shadows...it'd given him a – purpose, he guessed. Something only he and his friends could do. Hell, it was the reason he even had friends, and a Persona to boot, and now it was all over. "We won't be using our Personas now."

"I dunno about that." She leant the broom against the wall and sat down on the top step. "Didn't you feel like there was something we missed?"

"Huh?"

"Something we were forgetting," she said, which didn't clarify anything. "Like there was something Himiko couldn't..." She trailed off and shook her head. "It's been bothering me. I had one of those weird dreams last night, too. Not as creepy as when the fog was here, and I can't even really remember what it was about, but still...it felt like it was trying to tell me something. "

There hadn't been any dreams for Kanji recently, bad or otherwise. Not even his old man showing up, the way he'd done back when the fog had pressed up against the windows each night. "Eh, we're done with all that," he muttered as he sat down next to Rise.

"I'm not so sure. If Himiko was more powerful, maybe she could figure it out." Her voice was tinged with sadness, maybe even bitterness, and he remembered her getting hung up on all this before. "It felt like she did get stronger back when Izanagi absorbed all of our Personas, like she'd changed - but it didn't last."

So it hadn't just been Take-Mikazuchi. Kanji wished he'd remembered to ask Senpai about that, back by the river, but he'd been too thrown by the whole crazy 'I-thought-my-best-friends-would-abandon-me' deal. Was that stronger connection he'd felt a hint of what Take-Mikazuchi would turn into? Or just some weird side effect of Izanagi swallowing up his power? The whole thing made Kanji's head hurt. Maybe it was better not to think about it for now.

...Like a lot of stuff, really. Pack it up, store it away.

He turned his thoughts back to Rise instead, and the way she was staring down at the road in front of the shop, eyebrows angled in what looked like frustration. "Did Souji-senpai talk to you?" he asked.

She looked up. "About what?"

Meaning, no. Oh man, that'd been a bad question to ask. It was Senpai's business what he did or didn't tell other people, especially when those people were maybe-sort-of-more-than friends. Trying not to wince, Kanji mumbled, "Uh. Nothing. Just stuff."

Rise stared at him. "Just stuff?"

"S'right," he said, with the most confident nod he could manage.

He thought he'd pulled it off too, until she threw up her hands. "Kanji-kun, you are the world's worst liar! You can't ask me that then say 'just stuff'!"

Ah, crap. This wasn't going well. Kanji let out a sigh and rested his elbows on his knees. "Maybe you should go talk to him, ask him why you don't have a souped-up Persona. There's – a reason. A pretty good one."

She folded her arms and leaned forward, seeming to fold in on herself a little. "And he hasn't told me it, so maybe I shouldn't ask."

"Don't be like that," Kanji muttered. "Dunno what's going on between you two anyway."

"I don't know what's going on between you and Naoto either," Rise countered, glancing up at him with a small, troubled frown between her brows. "Except that something's not right."

It would've been an admirable about-turn if it hadn't thoroughly pissed him off. "What makes y'say that."

"The Christmas party. You barely looked at each other and things just felt all wrong between you. It's been that way at school, too."

"You supposed to be psychic now?" he growled.

This time, it was Rise's turn to sigh, in a way that sounded resigned rather than frustrated. "Okay, so I was totally right. I asked Naoto-kun and she just said -" and here, Rise's voice dropped to a ridiculous artificially deep pitch - "'That's none of your concern, Rise-chan', but I hoped I'd get more out of you. Relatively."

In truth, Kanji didn't want to brush Rise off. They were friends, good friends, even if she did bug him and tease him and tell him off for stuff that wasn't his fault. And, like Yosuke, she just wanted to help out. But he felt like he was fumbling through day after day of shaky, awkward interactions as it was, so why add to the list? True, most of them had involved Naoto, but so, in an indirect way, would this one. And hell, it was time to let this crap go. "Look, I just don't wanna talk about it, alright?" he said, bristling, his stomach twisting. "It's – it don't matter now. I'm done with it." It was only at the last instant that he caught himself before saying, I'm done with her.

Though he hadn't looked back, he could still see Rise watching him at the edge of his peripheral vision, and he guessed what her expression might be. And before she had chance to respond – to say anything that'd piss him off more, or worse, make him want to answer – he stood up from the steps. "Gotta get going," he mumbled. "More cards to deliver."

There was a beat of silence before Rise spoke. "...Sure. But we're gonna talk about this later, okay?"

Kanji had already turned away, in the direction of the gas station. "Yeah," he said – but as he walked away in long strides, snow and grit crunching underfoot, he knew he had no real intention of doing that at all.

January 1st, 2012

The air was damp and biting cold. Kanji's nose and ears had turned numb well before he'd reached the entrance to the shopping district shrine, and his breath fogged into soft clouds indistinguishable from the grey January sky.

Stupid idea to come here. Wasn't like he put any faith in this crap. But New Year's was New Year's, and Ma had poked him into coming down here, said it would be good for him, if you won't join me at the main shrine then at least stop by there, Kanji-chan. Lesser of two evils. The main shrine on the outskirts of town would be packed with people right now, and the last thing Kanji wanted to deal with was a big crowd – particularly when a bunch of them might know him, or think they knew him. Fortunately, the small shrine here was as empty as ever. The fox was perched up on the snow-covered roof, beady eyes tracking Kanji as he approached the offertory box, but nobody else was in sight. He sat down at the top of the steps, where the edge of the roof had kept the snow from settling, and stretched out his legs, curling and uncurling his toes in his shoes in an effort to keep them warm.

He hadn't bothered with last year's shrine visit. He'd learned soon after his dad had died that wishes didn't grant you shit, so what was the point in making them, new year or otherwise? But that feeling had faded a little over the past eight months, replaced by the conviction that, while wishes might still be a waste of time, there was a future worth looking forward to. Stuff you could aim for, strive for. Just over a week ago, Kanji would've put his whole deal with Naoto squarely in that category. Being with her was something he'd wanted, something he'd guiltily wished might happen, knowing full well he was getting his hopes up for nothing but being willing to do it anyway. But that'd been then. Someone running away from you (rejecting you, same damn thing in the end) could change a lot of stuff.

He hadn't been sitting on the steps all that long – hadn't intended to be there much longer at all – when he heard footsteps approaching along the path to the street. Probably someone else from the district, he figured, until he glanced up. Naoto was approaching him, head and cap both tilted down slightly to hide her eyes. She stopped about a meter from the base of the steps. Kanji hadn't bothered to call out to her.

He blew into his cupped hands, trying to warm his fingers. They felt frozen even through his gloves. "Thought you'd go to the big shrine instead."

She lifted her head. "Your mother said you were here."

So Naoto had been looking for him. Kanji bit his tongue and didn't ask why. "She hassled me into it."

Naoto gave a single, slow nod. "I hadn't intended to visit a shrine either."

But she had. A shrine he was at. She'd even gone to the shop first, looking for him, so did that mean she was sorry or that she'd changed her mind or absolutely nothing at all? And what was he supposed to say or do in return?

If he'd been alone, Kanji might've laughed at himself. Done with it. Who the hell had he been trying to fool? He wound up nodding rather than speaking. There was something better he was supposed to say or do here, but whatever it was eluded him; instructions laid out in a set of rules he'd never been given.

Naoto shifted in place, arms rigid at her sides. He could see her breath form clouds in the air, but several long moments passed before she spoke. "I'm leaving Inaba tomorrow."

Later, Kanji would figure, should've seen it coming, but at the time he hadn't been prepared at all. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut – a sudden, wrenching clench of pain that was too strong to swallow down. "Y-You are?" he managed.

"Temporarily. I—my grandfather. He's returned to Japan, and I promised to meet with him during New Years." She hesitated, gaze now fixed on the snow-dusted bottom step. "I will be assisting with his new case."

Kanji bit his bottom lip to steel himself, trying to steady out his voice. "H-How long?"

"Until it's complete. There...may be other duties afterward."

And now, after the initial rush of confusion and shock, it made a horrible sort of sense. "You're runnin' away."

Her head snapped up. He'd expected a cold expression, smooth denial, but her eyes were blazing. Kanji wasn't positive it was solely with anger. "I'm not. This is my profession, Kanji-kun, I have to—"

"Be honest with yourself, okay?" he snapped. "Then stand there and tell me you're leaving just 'cause of work."

"My grandfather—" Naoto started, this time sounding a little desperate, but Kanji shook his head.

"Stoppit," he growled – not wanting it to come out that way, wanting and wishing he could've said something better but not knowing where to start. Feeling the same numb, confused frustration that'd gnawed at him all week.

Naoto looked away. A silence coiled around them, dense and tight enough that Kanji swore they'd both choke on it.

"The murder case is essentially solved," she said, finally. "There's – no reason for me to be here anymore."

Never mind a punch. That one had felt like a hand plunging down his throat and clenching around his insides. No reason.

He swallowed. "What about school?"

"The faculty are aware," she said – and of course they were, that was why she'd been in the office for so long earlier in the week. "I missed a great deal of middle school due to my casework and my studies did not suffer."

No wonder. Prodigy, like that Niteline show had said months back. Boy genius.

"And Adachi?" he asked.

"I've provided my statement already and I'll still be working with Dojima-san and the other detectives, just remotely. My absence from the Inaba police station is actually likely to improve matters."

Her voice was quiet, and slightly frayed at the edges. Unable to look at her face, Kanji had taken to watching her fingers instead, and the way they curled around the sleeves of her winter coat. "You told the others?"

"No."

But you told me, so what does that mean, Kanji thought.

"What time are you leavin'," he said.

"That doesn't matter," she instantly shot back. "And please, don't inform the others. I will contact them on the train."

"Fine." He'd expected it to come out biting, but it might as well have been a single breath; no force behind it.

Naoto had made up her mind to leave, didn't want anyone there to see her off, and so it was pointless that she'd come here to see him at all. But a part of him – one he couldn't admit to, not right now - was fiercely glad that she had. And another part of him again, the same one that was still so bitter and frustrated, felt a sudden, stark pang of sympathy. Naoto was still standing in front of him, one arm clutched across herself, and in no other person Kanji had met was the gulf between what they said and what they felt so prominent. In that light, everything she'd done made sense, while making no sense at all.

He'd been hung up all week trying to understand what she'd done on Christmas Eve, and now, now he got it. The answer wasn't only in everything she hadn't said, but in the fact that she hadn't said it. And that'd always been the way with Naoto, short a while as he'd known her. True of him too, at times. Neither of them quite able to say what they meant, where they needed to, when it counted.

Kanji caught her gaze. "You know you're fooling yourself, right?"

Again, she looked away. "...I don't think we should discuss this any further."

"If you want," he said – not even petulant, now. Just tired.

Another silence, much heavier than the first. Naoto stood there for several long moments, still not looking at him but seeming on the verge of saying something - or maybe that was his imagination. Kanji couldn't bring himself to ask either way, and finally, without speaking, she turned away and walked back down the path toward the street.

January 2nd 2012

Kanji hadn't meant to go to the train station.

Cleaning the shop, sewing, watching shitty television...none of the usual distractions had worked, so he'd just gone out walking instead. Aimlessly, if he was honest, dumb and frustrated enough to wander around town in the freezing cold. He'd never planned on going anywhere near the station – why would he, what was the point - and told himself he was surprised when he looked up through the falling snow and saw the entrance further down the road.

And shit, the snow was getting heavier, so he did the only reasonable thing: climbed the steps two at a time and ducked inside the old wooden building. He'd just wait out the flurry. Wasn't like there was much else he could do.

Wasn't like he wanted to check the station platform, just in case.

The station was rarely manned, least of all during the holidays, so after a quick glance around the empty building he just jumped the ticket barrier. The exit onto the platform was right in front of him, but Kanji hesitated for several seconds – breathing deeply, wondering whether he should turn around and quit being so damn stupid. She wouldn't even be there. It was already ten, and somebody like Naoto would've taken an earlier train.

Which made checking easy. He clenched his fists and stepped out onto the platform.

Looking left, he saw nobody. Looking right, he saw two old men sitting on a wooden bench, a middle-aged lady holding a little kid's hand – and past them all, a slight, capped figure, standing close to the edge of the overhead shelter, beside a black suitcase.

...Shit.

Kanji shoved his hands in his pockets and strode down the platform toward her. Naoto must've heard his footsteps, because she glanced up as he approached. Her gaze was disinterested for the first split-second, like he was some passing stranger, then her eyes immediately widened. One step closer, and her expression had turned carefully, expertly neutral. "Y-You shouldn't be here," she said.

"I wasn't gonna be, I just—" Dragged myself out to the train station then pretended I didn't mean to, how lame is that, but maybe it'll make you stay. "I was out walking."

Naoto gave him a flat stare. "And happened to jump over a ticket barrier."

He shrugged. "Gotta keep up my bad reputation." He nodded further down the tracks in the direction the train would come from. "No train yet?"

"Delayed. The snow," she said. "It should be here shortly."

The pause that followed quickly turned into a cloying, awkward silence. It made Kanji think of the fog and the way it'd congealed around him, stifling sight and sound.

"Listen," he started. "Yesterday. I—"

"It's fine."

"...Right."

He hadn't wanted to apologize, which was maybe what Naoto had assumed, but simply to say, I get it. I figured out why you're doing this, and that doesn't make it okay, but I get it. It was something he had to tell her now, right? Before she left. Kanji watched her look up at him then quickly away, caught the vague flicker of doubt in her eyes, and remembered all over again the way she could redirect his train of thought by a glance, a subtle change in her expression, a single shift in position at the table at Junes.

"Why're you so afraid?" he blurted. In the distance, he could hear the steady click of an approaching train.

She glanced at the other passengers further down the platform, then back at him. "Kanji—"

"I mean, d'you think I'm not? 'Cause I was scared shitless of telling you anything. Still am. But I'm here anyway."

Naoto's gaze dropped. She turned back toward the tracks, and he noticed her hands had tensed into fists at her sides. "I'm - not like you."

"No," he said, quietly. "You're better."

The train's horn sounded as it approached, so maybe Naoto hadn't caught what he said. She didn't visibly react but she also didn't reach for her suitcase. Kanji reached out, laid a hand on her shoulder, trying not to grip too hard, and tugged her to face him.

"You could change your mind, right? You could." He swallowed. "You – don't have to go anywhere."

No denial. No anything for several long moments as the train rolled into the station. Just him still holding her shoulder, her not shrugging out of his grip, but Kanji knew she would any second now, she had to go get on the—

"A-Are we still friends?"

Naoto's voice was almost too low to hear over the sound of the train. She'd kept her eyes averted as she said it, but looked back at him halfway through the last syllable, catching his gaze. There was a long pause, each of them looking at each other – and Kanji ducked down and pulled her into a hug.

He'd surprised himself, never mind Naoto, and he figured she'd shove him away. But within seconds, the tight and wiry tension in her limbs seemed to drain away just slightly, enough that he didn't feel like he was hugging a bundle of steel cables, that it felt like she might be relaxing a little into his hold. One of her arms was still awkwardly trapped between them, the other had stayed firmly at her side, and he'd had to stoop down so her face wouldn't be smushed against his chest. But what mattered, what counted, was that she didn't pull away.

He was the one to break it in the end, pulling back his arms and straightening up just as the train doors slid open. Naoto looked up at him, face flushed and expression impossible to read. Somehow, the last five seconds had made him feel just a little braver – and though his hand was shaking, he reached out and tipped up her chin with two fingers. The pad of his thumb brushed just below her lower lip.

He could try again. He could—

"The train," Naoto said, suddenly, pulling away – but as his hand fell back to his side, she took hold of it midway, squeezed the few fingers she was able to grasp. "I have to go." Then she let his hand go, picked up her suitcase, and stepped on board the train. The door slid shut behind her moments later. Kanji stepped back – swallowing thickly around the twist in his throat, refusing to search the windows for her face - and waited for the train to leave. It soon started moving again, slowly passing the now empty platform. It was only as it finally rolled out of the station, into the white haze of the falling snow, that he realized Naoto had never said exactly where she was going.

He stayed there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes longer, just sitting on one of the benches with his elbows on his knees, but the snow showed no sign of stopping. Eventually, he went back into the station building and vaulted the ticket barrier. Just before he walked outside, his phone beeped in his coat, and he almost dropped it down the steps in the rush to pull it from his pocket. Text message. From – Souji. Asking if Kanji knew why Naoto had been ignoring his calls.

...He could text her. It was a good excuse, right? Hey, Senpai wants to know why you're blanking him, by the way are you okay, can I call you sometime.

Are you really going to come back, he wanted to ask.

But wanting to know the answer, that was different.

Kanji stared down at his phone, thumb hovering over the keypad, until he finally lifted his fingers and flipped the handset shut.