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-October 5th-
“The hell do you mean, 'not yet'!?”
Souji just stares at him, gaze perfectly—infuriatingly—level. “We're not ready yet. Don't panic.”
His words sink like hot coals into the pit of Kanji's already boiling stomach. He balls his fists at his sides, keeps his jaw locked tight, clenched to keep all that fury down. But that could never be enough.
“What the hell!? Why are we waiting!?”
It had been weeks.
Weeks peppered with sleepless nights, ruts in his bedroom carpet from pacing until his Ma forced him to let off steam outside. Endless hours of turning over every cold glare, every blunt remark, every tight and clipped action, every blank stare in his mind to search for some kind of clue. Some kind of sign that could have helped him put it all together before.
Blank stares that were so much like the one he's facing now.
Maybe that was why Souji pissed him off so damn much. Because right now, his unflappability is painfully familiar and sends his gut curling in on itself in guilt. Except, unlike Souji, Naoto would have already made his move by now. Already did.
Action got him into this mess, and non-action was gonna get him killed.
Stupid, stupid! Why didn't I get it before!? Why didn't he just tell us!?
“There were barely any sunny days last week! Its amazing that we've been okay up until now! Yer the one who said it, right? Th'fog comes after it rains!” Kanji's voice rises to a bellow, and he can feel the other students milling around Yasogami's gates staring at them, but he could care less. “So what the hell are we still sitting on our asses for!?”
Kanji takes a step forward, Souji angles his chin up, still staring straight at him.
Our fearless leader.
And then it all clicks into place in Kanji's mind.
“Unless—Senpai, you ain't afraid, are you?
This time, its Souji who advances, squaring his shoulders and locking that unreadable look straight onto Kanji; and its only then that he realizes he'd been looming over his senpai. “Calm down. I told you. We aren't ready.”
“Its been raining for three fucking days! If we don't do something now, Naoto's gonna--”
“Who's going to help him if we get killed trying to find him, Kanji!?” Souji shouts, and its the first time Kanji's ever heard him raise his voice. He flinches, but the muscles in his arms stay wire taut.
The rain pours around them. Large, fat droplets clattering off their umbrellas and onto the pavement. Souji lowers his voice, eyes narrowing.
“I thought you were past this,” he says, and its so flat, so expressionless, that Kanji's not sure whether he means flying off the handle and rushing into things, or past Naoto himself. His fist is balled in the front of Souji's dress shirt, hoisting him up and slamming him against the concrete pillar of the school's gate before he's even decided which one it is.
“Shut your damn mouth! We made a pact that we'd do this!”
He doesn't hear the gasps and alarmed chattering past the pounding in his ears. Can't feel the cold wetness on his skin for the white-hot rage burning through him, doesn't even register that he's dropped his umbrella.
“We aren't ready,” Souji hisses again, through gritted teeth this time, and that's all it takes.
His knuckles crash into Souji's cheekbone. “Like hell we ain't!”
Their leader crumples to his knees, and Kanji barely gives him the time to push himself upright and bring a hand to his already reddening jaw before he's dragging him to his feet and decking him again. Once, twice, and then he pauses, one hand clenched around the collar of Souji's jacket and the other drawn back and ready to fly forward again.
“Kanji-kun, stop!”
Let it fly, Tatsumi. You're a man, ain't you? That's what you've been trying to prove, right? So show him!
But he can't.
“Kanji, what the hell are you thinking? Put him down!”
There are two sets of hands tugging fiercely at his drenched shirt, an arm locked around his raised elbow, and Chie and Yukiko are screaming at him. Very slowly, the red haze tingeing his vision starts to fade, revealing a battered, bloody Souji in front of him. Kanji's knuckles are raw and smeared with blood, and he can't tell whose it is. All that's around them is the pouring rain and the shocked silence of dozens of students he never bothered to know.
“I swear, Tatsumi, if you don't drop him this instant--”
Holy shit.
And he does drop him. Souji groans, slumped on his knees and spitting blood into the rivulets of rain. Yukiko's at his side in an instant, pressing a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. Chie has planted herself between Kanji and Souji, her round eyes fierce, legs splayed in a fighting stance he knows too well. “What's this about!?”
Kanji says nothing at first, just stares at their leader—his friend, right? Holy shit, this guy saved his life, and he just pummeled—sitting in a heap at his feet.
Saved his life, but apparently couldn't be bothered to save Naoto's.
He swallows hard, and shoves his stinging fists into his pockets before setting his jaw again.
“You're our leader, ain't you?” he growls. There's no answer from any of them, so his growl becomes a snarl. “...So lead us, dammit!”
No way is he going to school today. And he knows as soon as Yosuke catches wind of this, he'll be in even deeper shit with the team. Kanji turns and stalks off into the rain toward the shopping district, Chie shouting furiously after him and his umbrella still spinning off-balance on its top. The rain's good, he decides. Good for hiding how wet his eyes are and his own deeply bitter disappointment.
Not past this at all. Never was.
---
The fog rolls in that night.
Kanji stands in the kitchen, tucked into the cozy apartment above his family textile shop. But right now, it can't offer him any comfort. And neither can the static-filled TV on the counter that he's got his eyes locked on, the old analog clock from his room in his hands.
“No—C'mon... C'mon, please...”
12:05. He'd seen the images flashing across the screen not long ago. Dark, blurred shapes stabbed through with bright flashes, like light bouncing off of sharp metal. Sharp metal that looked suspiciously like saw blades. He thought he'd seen Naoto, if very briefly, but then the image had cut back to rippling static. Kanji's blood is ice in his veins, his fingers white around the clock as he just keeps mouthing the words over and over.
He doesn't know how long he stands there, his vision going dark around the edges until all he can see is that damn static.
But after what feels like hours, he hears the sirens. And he doesn't need to see the slight figure suspended in telephone wires high above Inaba's streets to know that they were far too late.
Changing the channel, the first program to blare to life is the news, the bright red 'BREAKING NEWS' banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen. 'INABA SERIAL MURDER CASE CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM'. Kanji just stares, the alarmed reporter's words barely making sense to him. But he already knows.
Naoto came to Inaba to solve this case. And all it did was kill him.
And its their fault.
He pulls out his phone, scrolls numbly through his contact list until he gets to Souji's name. But he doesn't press anything, just hovers his thumb over the button for a moment.
There would be time for blind rage and grieving blame thrown around later. For now, the phone clatters to the kitchen floor. Kanji leaves the room, trying to ignore the way the fog presses against the windows like its trying to seep in and choke him.
At this point, he wishes it would.