This chapter had no right to take as long as it did! Apologies, guys. Did not spend as much time writing this past month as I would have liked.
Thank you and apologies to anyone whose review I missed answering…I guessed you might prefer a new installment instead. Thanks also to non-registered reviewers PSKira, NOIRA, Sinuhe (sorry, the update didn't quite make the new year), Tarantula, A Gray Phantom (whose name I hope I got right this time), and ichinisa.
Story so far: A week after the Christmas Eve kiss, Naoto kept on running - this time to a new case in a new city, leaving Kanji standing alone on a train station platform.
In this part: January, step by stumbling step.
January 4th 2012
"It's unlike you to not see a case through."
There was nothing accusatory in Grampa's tone, but the undercurrent of concern was intolerable. Naoto bristled and, aware though she was of her grandfather's formidable observational skills, tried her best not to show it. "The culprit has been apprehended. I will continue to work remotely on assembling the evidence."
She paused, waiting for him to acknowledge her answer - but he was studying her instead, and the look he gave her was as measured and steady as a metronome. During the train ride to Yokohama they'd spoken only of the upcoming case; why raise other questions now, when their taxi was just pulling out of the station? The glass divider shielded their conversation from the driver, but Naoto still felt compelled to lower her voice.
"My skills can be better developed on a new investigation," she tried – then, more petulantly than she would have liked, "I haven't abandoned my duties in Inaba."
"Your duties aren't what concern me," Grampa said, evenly.
The implication was clear. And while Naoto knew she had abandoned other things in leaving Inaba – - the investigation team, her school life, what little sense of belonging she'd managed to scrape together – staying had been impossible for reasons she couldn't imagine explaining to anyone, much less her grandfather. Explaining them to herself was challenging enough; justifying them, even harder.
...But Inaba, as she'd repeatedly reminded herself, was always intended to be temporary. Departure was the natural conclusion. The repetition of this statement had not yet made it convincing.
She glanced quickly at her grandfather, then away, and reached automatically to adjust the brim of her cap; an obvious, habitual tell. "I've arranged to continue with both my schoolwork and my previous case. I see no other business left unfinished."
The last sentence was sharp-edged. Grampa had effectively raised her, and Naoto had rarely needed to explain herself to him. She couldn't bring herself to look at his reaction. She turned to stare out the car window instead, as the taxi pressed on through Yokohama's evening traffic, and forced her hands to remain unclenched in her lap.
January 8th 2012
Word had traveled neither as quickly nor as far as Naoto had suspected, and thanks to the usual fudging of documentation her new colleagues in Yokohama believed her to be a fifteen year old boy. This brought its own set of problems – but also a feeling of a relief, a sense of the world settling back on its axis. And, whether due to Grampa's presence or to city attitudes, tolerance for her involvement seemed slightly higher than back in Inaba. There were the usual whispers here at the police station, the frostiness from senior detectives, but nothing unexpected. It was easy to slip back into her usual mode of operation, devoting her attention to the case at hand, particularly when buoyed by collaboration with her grandfather.
Or it would have been, had he appeared to welcome her help.
He'd said nothing outright. He'd even quietly encouraged her take the lead, but then he'd never been inclined to baby her. The difference was more subtle. There was always that same air of gentle reproach, the implication that Naoto didn't have to be there, that her time might be better spent back in Inaba – at a school she had no need to attend, on a case she could no longer help with and with people who—
"Shirogane-san?"
Naoto glanced up to see one of the detectives standing in front of her borrowed desk. Imamori, a stocky, good-natured man of around thirty whom, judging by his frequent attempts at small talk, might have been tasked with babysitting her.
"Sorry, the meeting's been delayed again," he said. "The other detectives, ah, want to wait for your grandfather."
This was no surprise. She gave a brisk nod. "Of course."
Imamori seemed relieved. He bowed briefly, not much more than a quick nod forward, and headed back toward the conference room.
Naoto and her grandfather were acting as consultants, taken on for Grampa's extensive prior experience with cases of large-scale criminal fraud. Specialists had already pored through bank account records, their work summarized in the papers spread over her desk, but evidence of this type was limited in its usefulness. Successful fraud perpetrators spent a great deal of effort on hiding any potential paper trail. Naoto had little experience with this sort of organized crime, though. Perhaps that explained Grampa's demeanour.
She admired and loved her grandfather, trusted him, but without all the facts at his disposal he had no way of forming a reliable opinion. He wanted her to return to Inaba when he didn't fully understand her reasons for leaving; the realization that she'd entangled herself with too many people in too many ways, that she'd forgotten the importance and safety of isolation. If you were alone, you didn't need to worry about losing anyone. You were at no risk of harm or of harming others. And perhaps, in the end, it was what you deserved.
Naoto had just closed her eyes in an effort to clear her head when her phone buzzed on the desk, rattling against the wooden surface.
hey naoto whats up ^_^ r u busy?
Rise. Unsurprisingly, she'd been most persistent in her attempts at contact. Naoto picked up the phone and tapped out a response. YES
Equally unsurprisingly, Rise was not dissuaded. hey did u call kanji yet?
NO
hes why u left rite? he wont tell me about it but i spoke 2 yosukesenpai and i kno sumthing happend
Of course. Naoto had practically shoved Yosuke into a wall in her hurry to escape Souji's house. Such incongruous behaviour was bound to raise suspicions, even if Yosuke was unaware of what had actually transpired. She swallowed thickly, thumb moving over the keys. LEFT FOR WORK. NO NEED TO CONCERN YRSELF W/THIS
Almost a full minute passed before Rise answered. ur my friend naoto. so is kanji
Naoto wanted to point out that was precisely the problem. She'd spent most of her life friendless. Desperately lonely as she'd been, she'd never realized how hard it would be to adjust to the alternative. Facing her Shadow had forced her to admit she couldn't stand alone, but relying on and caring for others had so far proved painfully complex. She was left caught in the middle, terrified to move forward but knowing that she needed to learn, essentially, how to be more human. At times, she'd told herself her tenuous friendship with Kanji was a way of making progress. All other thoughts concerning him had been shoved firmly aside - right until the moment when he'd leaned toward her on a narrow landing, and everything had rushed up on her at once.
She'd had to run. The flood of emotion - the fundamental loss of control - had been more than she could bear.
But they were still friends. Naoto had been terrified that she'd broken that, but Kanji seemed to have reconciled himself to the situation. Friendship would be enough.
She shifted in her seat, then turned her attention back to the papers on her desk.
January 12th 2012
"H-Hey. Sorry to call. Just – y'know. Wanted to know how stuff was going. With the new case. So, uh, keep in touch, yeah?"
End of message. Hit 1 to play again.
Naoto did.
It was a new and inexplicable habit. Kanji's message would not change. Kanji's message, in terms of content, meant very little at all.
(By contrast, his disjoint and stumbling voicemail from Christmas Eve meant far more than she could stand. Naoto had saved it anyway.)
He'd texted her on the evening of the 8th, and left this message on the 9th. Neither had received a response. Naoto had wanted to correct that, if only to reassure him that her journey had gone smoothly, but all the texts she'd mentally composed seemed somehow lacking and brusque, and calling him directly was out of the question.
She walked over to the hotel room window. The lit windows of the office blocks outside were almost blinding compared to Inaba's sparse dots of light.
"Sorry to call. Just – y'know."
The Kanji of three days ago had clearly been trying to keep his phone message as neutral as his text. His voice was the problem. It was brittle, pulled tight at the edges, with a nonchalance so forced that it made her stomach sink. He was clearly a terrible actor, but the fact that he felt the need to act at all was worse. Naoto couldn't blame him.
"—the new case. So, uh, keep in touch, yeah?"
...Perhaps it had been a mistake to rule out calling. She could try now. He might still be awake. She could—
Say what, exactly? He'd confirmed they were still friends. What was left to discuss?
Besides, she had work to do. The new case demanded proper attention and she did her best thinking late at night.
End of message. Hit 1 to play again.
Naoto didn't, and the phone's consequent silence was deafening. She kept it held to her ear, still staring out of the window, for a long time.
January 19th 2012
It wasn't until Rise texted her, mid-morning and immediately following an interminable meeting with two dour forensic accountants, that Naoto found out today was Kanji's birthday.
She wondered what the team would be doing for him. They'd been so caught up in the case last year that most birthdays had gone unobserved. In this more peaceful time - and given that Rise was aware of the date - the others might hold a small party, a get-together like the one they'd had for Nanako on Christmas Day. Rise had mentioned a cake, which – judging by Naoto's experience trying to rein in three very over-eager cooks – would be a less than optimal birthday surprise.
She leaned back against the police station wall, arms folded, huddled under her coat collar against the cold winter wind. The police had finally obtained a search warrant for another business suspected to be a front in the fraud case, and Grampa was due to assist them in the search for relevant evidence. The taxi carrying Naoto to join him would arrive in minutes. Kanji and the others were the very last thing she should be thinking about - and such distraction was absolute proof of why emotional entanglements were a terrible idea.
A moment later, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Hey, Naoto. Everything going well with work?
The message was from Souji; the first he'd sent since his missed calls on the day of her departure. Naoto had begun to wonder if he'd bother to contact her again at all, while telling herself that it didn't matter either way. YES THX
Great. Rise mentioned she'd been in contact with you and I hadn't heard back after calling, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.
Naoto winced.
She'd always felt drawn to Souji. Within five minutes of first speaking with him, she had divulged potentially valuable details regarding her conversation with Kanji – and later that evening, been unable to explain why. It was a difficult sensation to ignore. Around him, she felt – valuable. Worthwhile. With everything that had happened with Nanako and Namatame, they'd had to put the Phantom Thief case aside after the most recent letter, but even in that brief time Senpai had made Naoto feel safe.
Perhaps all his friends felt that way. But sometimes, she'd hoped she was the only one.
Sometimes, she wanted to know whether all this could have worked out very differently.
She tapped her thumb against the keys. SORRY
A long time seemed to pass before Souji responded. No problem. I guessed you were busy.
Kanji had been the only one she'd told of her plans to leave. Everyone else had presumably heard from Rise, whom Naoto had texted on the train out of Inaba. But Souji, she felt she should have informed. By this stage, he was – complicated, but in an entirely different way to Kanji. Naoto was left with the notion that under a different set of circumstances, she might have—
But that wasn't what had happened. It had been Kanji, and now she had to deal with the aftermath. She wanted to label it a moment of madness – but in the cauterizing light of day, Naoto could see they'd been hedging toward it for months, and that she'd marshaled all her powers of self-deception to convince herself otherwise.
My uncle says you need to get your ass back here and help finish up the case. His words. Not sure he actually wanted me to share them.
CASE WILL PROCEED W/O MY HELP
Yeah, but I think he warmed up to you. BTW, it's Kanji's birthday today. The girls are baking him a cake, poor guy. Maybe you could call him?
…That would be useless, now. Besides, the taxi was already visible at the end of the street and traffic was light at this time of day. Naoto shoved her phone back in her pocket and stepped away from the building, raising her hand to flag down the cab.
January 22nd 2012
Though Naoto had planned out this conversation almost word for word, beginning it wasn't easy. She straightened her back, took a quick breath. "You want me to return to Inaba."
Grampa looked at her, raised an eyebrow, and said nothing. Instead he gestured for her to sit in the seat opposite him, but Naoto stayed standing in the hotel room doorway, as if moving would reduce her resolve. Confronting her grandfather - her ally and caretaker since almost as long as she could remember - felt both inescapably wrong and entirely necessary.
She clasped her hands tightly behind her back. "It's obvious you're displeased by my presence. I know I have no experience in fraud cases, but this is a chance for me to—" The words had tumbled out too quickly, and the level look in Grampa's eyes made her feel faintly ridiculous. "I can be useful," she finished, quietly.
He leaned back in his armchair. "Displeased? My dear, when have I ever felt that way about your assistance?"
There was nothing condescending in his words, only mingled affection and concern. And in truth he'd never rejected her involvement, even when she'd been no more than a callow, ambitious ten-year-old who'd read one too many detective novels. She let out a breath, shoulders sinking slightly with the motion. "...Never."
"And as much is true now." He paused, as if gauging her reaction, before continuing. "I don't believe my opinion is the issue here at all, hmm?"
Grampa had an innate talent for cutting right to the heart of a matter. If not for her self-control and self-possession, Naoto might have winced.
Moments passed in silence before he spoke. "Do you miss Inaba? Your friends?"
"...That isn't relevant."
"You haven't mentioned them since you arrived." Another pause, brief but weighty. "I know it must be difficult for you."
Grampa would never pity her, but the gentleness in his voice was too much to stand. Naoto stiffened, her hands now gripping each other tight enough to hurt. "I am fine."
"This case is likely to drag on for at least another month. There's no need to disrupt your schooling for so long." His voice had turned firm, but the look in his eyes remained kind. "You missed the majority of middle school, and it was not beneficial."
Middle school would have been pointless. Trivial topics, unrelated to her work, pursued in the company of children. She felt the muscles in her shoulders pull and harden. "I furthered my abilities as a detective, and I can do so again now."
"There will be other opportunities," Grampa said. "You still have a place in Inaba. You have a life there."
Naoto opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. She knew too well that her own stubbornness was inherited. She watched instead as Grampa rose from the armchair and stepped across the room. He stopped short of hugging her - she'd told him three years ago she had no need of such demonstrations - instead clasping a hand on her right upper arm.
"You're strong, capable, and a fine detective," he told her. "But you do not need to stand alone - and running away would be a disservice to both you and your friends."
"...I'm not running away," she protested, with as little conviction as she felt.
"Do you really believe that?"
Grampa's expression had shifted. It verged on disappointment, a realization that made her stomach lurch - and Naoto found herself unable to answer.
January 23rd 2012
At night, alone in the dark, some things were – no. It wasn't that they were easier to think about, it was just that you couldn't do anything but think about them. And for Naoto, the darkness brought a sickening degree of clarity.
Rise had been wrong. It hadn't just been about Kanji. He had simply been the breaking point; the extra pebble that had finally tipped the scales. Naoto's Shadow had begged desperately for a reason to stay, but by the end there had been far too many. The biggest being the team - no, her friends, whom she was running away from just as Grampa had stated. The events of November and December had proved just how dangerous and bewildering such attachments could be. And Kanji - Kanji was part of that. Certainly she'd run away from him, too.
…But he was also part of something else. He was different. Naoto wasn't fully certain at what point that had started being the case, or why – only that he was, and that she'd responded to this with deplorable behavior. Since Christmas she'd ignored him almost entirely, only relenting when she'd already made up her mind to leave, but she hadn't known what else to do. Her set of tools for dealing with people was hopelessly limited, and utterly useless when it came to—whatever had occurred between her and Kanji. The kiss. Everything that went with it.
He had feelings for her. She'd simply feigned ignorance for months – subconsciously for the most part, though that made it no less cruel. But what exactly did she feel for him? Years of practice had developed Naoto's skill for submerging her emotions to the point where identifying them was a major challenge. The best she could do, as a detective, was to review the evidence at hand.
She'd pursued Kanji to the TV world after barely a moment's thought. She'd made sure the bully Sonoda wouldn't press charges against him. She'd defended him from her police colleagues. She'd kissed him – not just been kissed, but reciprocated. He'd stirred feelings she wanted no part of, made her resent him for doing so, made her feel fundamentally unsafe and unsteady. The conclusion was increasingly obvious.
Naoto rolled over in her hotel bed, eyes screwed shut as if to block out her own racing thoughts.
She was in love with Kanji Tatsumi. Of all the people she could have chosen – having never wanted to choose one at all – it had been Kanji. A hulking, multiply-pierced, not-quite-delinquent regularly in undeserved trouble with local law enforcement.
…Grampa would not be impressed.
He would have liked Souji instead. In retrospect, a small, sentimental part of Naoto would have preferred Souji too. He was her Senpai, her leader. She deeply admired him; idolized him, even, troubling as that was in itself. He was intelligent, kind, charming, all qualities that would and had attracted her – and Naoto would have laid down her life for him in battle. But as much as part of her might have wanted to be in love with him - had secretly hoped she might be - she knew she wasn't. It simply would have been much easier if she was. Senpai would have kept her feeling safe - not only because he would never hurt her, but because she could never hurt him. He was too fluid, a stream flowing around stones. Kanji was another matter entirely. They each stood the risk of hurting the other - not out of malice, but due to sheer emotional ineptitude. Would it be worth it?
She could ask herself the same of every other attachment she'd made. Were any of them worth it?
Hundreds of miles away, any conclusions she could make would be merely conjecture. A good detective would return to the scene and make further observations. Applying the rules of one's profession to one's personal life was most likely ill-advised, but Naoto had little else to go on – and here, in the dark, she could be honest enough to admit she missed what she'd had in Inaba. Most of all, she missed her friends – Kanji included.
Grampa had been right all along, but he usually was. Naoto vowed to talk with him tomorrow and arrange a good time to depart the case.
January 24th 2012
Eleven in the morning. Kanji would be in class, and his phone would be switched off.
Naoto dialed his number and waited for the call to roll over to voicemail.
"Hello. This is Naoto." Except he'd already know that, he'd added her contact details. Naoto wished she had planned her words in advance - but then she might never have picked up the phone. She swallowed, hoped he wouldn't hear it on playback, then continued. "I'll return to Inaba on the twenty-eighth. The train should arrive at six-thirty in the evening. If you could—" But that was asking far too much. Pushing them both too far. "Well. I thought you – ought to know." Then she quickly hung up, before she could say anything else.
She needed to inform the others too. It would only be polite – and if she preferred not to tell them the exact time she would be arriving, that was fine. Naoto scrolled through her desperately short list of contacts, and selected Rise's name.
January 28th, 2012
The rain had started as the train approached the outskirts of Inaba, and still hadn't let up. The smart choice would have been to have a taxi take her directly to her apartment. This 'smart choice' would have also caused her courage to evaporate completely. Instead, Naoto had walked down the train station steps and caught the first bus to the shopping district, suitcase and all.
Cold raindrops pelted against her as she ran north through the district, past Marukyu, past Aiya, until she finally arrived at Tatsumi Textiles and ducked underneath the awning outside. After doing her best to straighten out her damp clothing, she took a deep breath and pushed open the shop door.
Inside, Kanji's mother was standing by a half-dismantled display, carefully folding a colourful sample of silk. At the sound of the door, she looked up. "My, Naoto-kun, it's been a while, hasn't it? Are you here to see Kanji-chan?"
"Y-Yes. I am," Naoto managed, wishing she sounded more decisive. "Would you please call him?"
"Oh, no need for that. You can head in back, he's in the living room."
"I—" Naoto began, intending some sort of protest, but under Tatsumi-san's expectant gaze she quickly slipped off her shoes, picked them up, and walked through the back door of the shop.
Though neither she nor Tatsumi-san had spoken loudly, Kanji must have been listening. Naoto entered the living room to find him standing in front of the sofa, facing the door.
He nodded stiffly. "Yo. S'good to see you."
"You too."
"You, uh, can hang your jacket over that chair. Since it's damp."
Naoto shrugged out of her coat and did just that, placing her cap on top. "Thank you."
Pleasantries over, they lapsed into an awkward, tense silence - stuffed full of a dozen things Naoto thought she might say, thought she wanted to say, but couldn't voice in any sort of sensible order. Several long moments later, she gave up and started with the simplest. "I thought you might - be at the train station."
He glanced away. "Didn't think you'd want me to be."
She had never, Naoto reminded herself, directly asked him to be there. The best she'd managed was to ask without asking, and then she'd told herself it wouldn't matter anyway when years of casework had left her accustomed to arriving and leaving alone. When she'd looked around the empty platform, she'd been surprised how much it had actually hurt.
Kanji rubbed a hand across his chin. "Even if you did, if you'd said so, I—" He dropped his arm and shrugged. "I don't know if I would've gone."
Naoto's breath caught in her throat. "...Why?"
"I can't do it, y'know? After everything that happened. I-I tried, I called and texted, all that crap." His gaze shifted back to her, almost piercing in its intensity. "But I can't just - chase after you. That ain't right on either of us."
"I – I had to leave. It was—"
"Kinda shitty," Kanji cut in, though he sounded more admonishing than angry. "You blanked me, then you ran. And it hurt."
"At the station, before I left, you—" She stopped short and drew a breath to steady herself. "I thought we were still friends."
"'Course we are, dumbass! You ain't listening."
"I'm trying."
Kanji's response was a rough, frustrated sound, deep in the back of his throat. He flopped down on one end of the sofa, frowned at his socked feet for a moment, then watched Naoto sit beside him.
"You gotta decide, yeah?" he said, softer this time. "What you want. And if - if it's not me, well, that's fine, we're cool."
The last part was spoken far too quickly to sound casual. Naoto wasn't convinced they'd be 'cool' at all, that Kanji wouldn't harbour a grudge no matter however unwillingly. But was that even an issue? What if she just took a chance and told him yes?
"'Cause I wouldn't blame ya," he rambled. "I know I ain't all that—"
"Kanji-kun," she cut in, slightly harsher than she'd intended.
His expression turned sheepish. "W-Well, yeah. So." A sigh. "You – need to decide."
There were too many what-ifs. What if she hurt him more than she already had, what if the whole thing went wrong, what if it didn't. It would change things; change her. She stared down at her hands in her lap. "I - don't know what I want, I don't understand any of this. And I-I'm sorry."
"Sorry?"
"For everything. For not noticing, or convincing myself I hadn't. Both, really." Naoto lifted her head and forced herself to hold his gaze. "You deserve better."
"Better than you?" Kanji's voice was low, and he shook his head. "No way."
His idea of her seemed dangerously different to the reality. She tried to push the thought aside, and another long moment passed in silence.
"I get it," he said at last. "I get why you left. And s'okay." He rubbed a hand over his face again, then scratched at the back of his neck. "I mean, it kinda isn't, you know? But it is."
Something either is or isn't, Naoto almost snapped, but she knew better than most that wasn't strictly true. She ran her tongue over her lips; they felt almost as dry as her mouth. "I was afraid," she said. "I still am."
Kanji motioned toward her as if reaching for her hand, but stopped short. "Yeah. Me too."
"And I can't be what you want. I can't be what anyone wants." She'd known this for years, deep in her bones, and shied away from others because of it. "I - don't understand intimacy, and when it comes to other people, I do everything wrong."
He made an annoyed noise, somewhere between a grunt and a snort. "What's it matter what people want outta you? You're you, man."
She'd learnt enough of Kanji's history to know he needed to take his own advice. "As are you."
"Dunno." Some of the certainty in his voice had drained away. "Guess so."
A heavy silence settled over them both. Naoto barely noticed for the thoughts spinning through her head, and the feelings that seemed to curl inside her stomach then wind up through her chest to her knotted throat. At the back of her mind, Sukuna-Hikona had started to stir - and it occurred to her then that he'd been silent throughout her time away from Inaba. Or had he been quietly pushing her toward this all along?
Kanji was the first to speak. "So...what now?"
Initially she was unable to answer. Change was painful and terrifying, particularly the kind she'd undergone since arriving in Inaba; an internal revolution imposed from outside.
But perhaps some changes were easier if you made them yourself.
Naoto tipped up her chin. "What we did. Before. D-Do it again."
Kanji blinked, then frowned at her. "Uh?"
"Do it again."
The frown deepened. "You mean—"
Tired of waiting, no longer certain what she'd been waiting for in the first place, Naoto leaned in, clamped both hands over his shoulders, and kissed him.
This one was rushed - barely a meeting of their lips - over too quickly, and about as awkward as the first. As they both pulled away and Kanji darted a nervous, wide-eyed glance at the open living room door, the pragmatic part of Naoto's mind reflected that they probably just needed more practice (while the rest tried to ignore the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks).
"We, uh. Should go out," Kanji mumbled - his face, she suspected, flushed an even deeper shade than her own. "My ma."
Continuing this in public was not an idea Naoto relished. Particularly during a rainstorm. But it felt like there were more questions, more things that needed to be resolved between them - analyzing, always over-analyzing - and at least a walk might clear her head. She hopped up from the sofa and smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt. "Y-Yes. I agree."
Without any firm destination in mind, they wandered out through the district in the drizzling rain, Kanji holding the umbrella high enough to shelter them both. As they'd exited the shop, he'd made a clumsy attempt to hold her hand, which - after glancing around the street for witnesses - Naoto had gingerly accepted.
Having left so soon after the team's defeat of Adachi, she was still adjusting to an Inaba lacking last year's thick layer of fog. It was already dark outside, but the streetlamp light that had once been lost in the haze was now crisp and bright, making buildings and signs in the distance clearly visible even through the rain. Pleased as she was by the sight, for a single irrational moment Naoto regretted the change. Kanji's hand was warm around hers, his thumb stroking over her fingers, and if nothing else fog guaranteed privacy.
They kept walking in silence. Eventually they found themselves on the deserted path by the floodplains, which seemed to amuse Kanji. When she asked why, he shrugged and said, "This is where we first spent time together, kinda."
It took several seconds of thought for her to recall when he was referring to - and with the memory came a realization. She glanced up at him, then away. "I have a question."
"Shoot."
"You - said before that you'd liked me since the start. When exactly did you mean?"
"When we met. Last May." Kanji sounded unperturbed.
Except back then, she'd been someone else. Shirogane-the-boy, an alternate self who would never leave no matter to what degree she adjusted to being treated as female. In an ideal world, Naoto thought, there wouldn't be separate selves at all, but one cohesive whole incorporating boy things, girl things, everything that comprised her. Or perhaps those things would just be what they were, and not considered masculine or feminine at all.
But nothing was ideal. The world at large considered gender a binary construct. She herself had only recently begun to accept that it might be a spectrum, that the dichotomy she'd created had done nothing but damage her self-perception. Damaged other things, too. Back in May, Kanji would have regarded her quite differently. "But you believed me to be—"
"Yeah. I know," he cut in, wincing. "Trust me, I know."
Which, logically, led to several possible conclusions. One, that Kanji preferred men. Two, that he had no preference at all. Three, that he was confused and Naoto was only making matters worse. And given what she'd heard about his Shadow and its location…
She released his hand and gripped her opposite arm. "And now you know that I'm - not. Is that going to be a problem?"
He looked down at her, frustration and hurt mingled in his expression. "If it was, d'you think I'd have kissed you?"
Blunt though Kanji tended to be, his directness still threw her. "I-I wouldn't presume to comprehend your motivations, and – and I don't want us to enter into an arrangement under any sort of misconception."
She'd turned her gaze back to the path ahead, but at the edge of her vision she caught him shake his head. "...Arrangement? For real?"
Her face prickled with heat. "That – I – I was under the impression that we—"
"Man. The more riled you get, the fancier words you use," Kanji muttered.
Was she jumping to conclusions? Sukuna-Hikona was buzzing at the edge of her mind, a long list of rapid-fire suggestions and warnings. She paused to collect her thoughts, then tried again. "I didn't see your Shadow, but I know a little of its nature. I - just thought it was important to ask."
"Your Shadow wanted to turn you into a guy," he said, simply. "That what you really want?"
In the past, Naoto might have said yes. There were parts of her that already felt male. Matching that physically, she'd thought, would be so much easier, encapsulate so much more of who she really was. Now, having confronted her other self, she'd gradually come to accept that her assessment had been hopelessly simplistic, and that what she truly wanted was more complicated. "No. Not really."
"Yeah. That's how it goes with Shadows. They snap down on whatever doubts you got and snare them up into a whole big mess." Even in the dim light, she could see his jaw and shoulders tense. "That's why mine was – like it was. I figured I was supposed to be just one way, and that the stuff I really liked made me a pansy or whatever you wanna call it."
"You mean your hobbies?"
"Yeah, but not just that. Everything. I – I don't fit what people expect. I didn't fit what I expected."
They had reached the gazebo by now, and they both ducked under the roof. In the faint light from the lamps outside, Kanji propped the umbrella on the floor then leaned back against one of the wooden railings. Naoto stood in front of him, hands tucked in her pockets to keep them warm.
"So," she started. "You aren't—"
"Shit, I dunno," he cut in. He scuffed his boot against the floor and let out a sigh. "I hate fricking labels. But - I've thought 'bout it a lot since we met, y'know? I-I think I like - you. Boy, girl, whatever you want." He shrugged, a loose roll of his shoulders. "The rest...I guess I'll figure out."
Naoto's throat tightened. Words were easily spoken - but when Kanji had said before that he accepted her and backed it up with his actions, she'd wanted desperately to believe him. Now, it seemed possible that she could.
"You make it all sound simple," she said quietly.
"Maybe it can be, yeah?"
She stared down at her shoes. "What if it isn't?"
His hand landed on her shoulder. "Then we'll work it out together."
Two fingers trailed along her jaw, more gently than she'd thought possible, and tipped up her chin. Kanji was staring down at her, forehead creased in a slight frown – and on impulse, Naoto leant up on her toes and firmly cupped his cheek. Picking up on her idea, he leant down to meet her in turn, and she pressed her lips against his.
Her toes soon started to ache from pushing herself up to reach him and their mouths weren't quite moving in the same rhythm, but this time still felt different – easier, a little less tentative. In an attempt to keep her hand steady she slid it up to cup the back of his head, and Kanji mimicked the motion, the slight shake in his own hand oddly reassuring. Naoto kept her eyes closed, focusing on the warmth of his mouth, the rough texture of his fingers against her neck, the sound of the rain pattering against the roof above - until it occurred to her that they were kissing in public.
She jolted back and tipped down onto her feet, breathing hard.
Kanji blinked at her. "Was – was that bad? 'C-Cause I can—"
"No, no. You were – fine," Naoto blurted, frantically scanning the path by the river. "I – we're – there might be people around."
"S'dark," he pointed out.
"I know."
"And raining."
"I know."
"And we're under a gazebo."
"Yes, I know," she hissed, "but that hardly—" She shook her head. "Never mind."
For a second he looked faintly hurt, and she wondered if she'd been too abrupt. Then his expression cleared, shifting into an awkward, tentative half-smile. "So, uh," he started, then stopped.
"Hmm?"
"…Are we – y'know. Together?"
Three kisses and a month of internal debate later, the answer should have been decisive - especially with Sukuna-Hikona's presence now urging her on - yet it still took all of Naoto's courage to deliver. "…Y-Yes. If you'd like."
Kanji's smile broke into a grin, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. I totally would."
Then he took her hand again, enveloping it in his much larger one. Hesitant as it was, Naoto couldn't help a small smile of her own, and a slight squeeze of his hand.