Work Text:
“I want to see him.”
“...Are you sure? I mean, it's your choice, but I'm just not sure...”
“I want to. And I want to go on my own.”
“Sweetheart...”
“I'll be fine. I'm not afraid of him. I just... I need to do this on my own.”
“Okay. Can you at least let your old man drive you down there?”
“Sure, Daddy.”
“You got a visitor.”
“I don't want to see him.”
“It's not a him, smart ass. Don't know how, but you got a girl here this time.”
“...A girl? But I don't...”
“You coming or not?”
“...yes. I'll come.”
The man walked into the visitor's booth, cuffed at the wrist and ankle, watching the floor as he walked. He'd found over the past ten years that it made his balance better. So it wasn't until he sat down and had settled himself that he looked up to see what girl in the world would come visit him in prison, of all people. She was younger than him, easily by a good fifteen or twenty years—late teens, early twenties at the max. Her long brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders, just long enough to reach about the bottom of her rib cage. Brown eyes watched him carefully, a strange look in them he couldn't quite place. The girl was slender, long fingers laced in front of her as she rested her hands on the counter in front of her, but there was a strength to her rigid posture, her careful composure, her intense stare that seemed oddly familiar.
Made him feel like he should be sitting up straighter. How did this girl get in here? Even on his best behavior, his visitors were limited to any family who would want to see him (none of them had come, not surprising) and Dojima, because he'd been his boss back at the station.
The girl shifted, her eyes flickering on him. Sizing him up? He didn't mind his girls younger, but this one didn't seem the type to go after older guys. ...Especially not older guys in prison for murder. “You don't recognize me, do you?”
The voice caught him off guard. Why...? It was like something he'd known ages ago, taunting him by staying just out of reach. His mind desperately flickered through anyone he'd known that might come to visit him. It wasn't any of the kids who had screwed him over; he'd recognize them. No one in his family...at least not that he knew. But no, she'd said he should recognize her so it had to be someone he knew, someone he'd met. “I...” He blinked, but no more words came out.
She sighed, but reached up and threaded her hands through her hair, pulling it to either side, as if she had—
—pigtails.
Now it all came rushing back. Evenings at a dinner table, laughing and playing the fool, only really smiling at one person there. Phone calls, telling a child that her father was running late again and he didn't know when he'd be home. A shadowy image on a TV screen. A screen in a hospital, chirping far too slowly. The only true feeling of remorse he'd felt all those years ago.
“Holy shit.” He pushed his chair back from his side of the glass, eyes wide. She let her hair go, finger combing it back into place, her eyes still never leaving his. “I...what... ...Nanako-chan?”
“Hi, Adachi.”
When she didn't offer anything else, Adachi slowly relaxed and eased back up to the glass. “What...what are you here for? I mean, your...your dad's come by often enough, but...” Adachi had asked about Nanako once, earlier on in his incarceration, and Dojima had gone ice cold and informed him that his daughter's well-being was none of his business, not after what almost happened to her because of him.
Adachi couldn't really argue that. He beat himself up enough about what had almost happened to Nanako. …What had happened, and then miraculously—and Adachi hated that word—reversed.
“I wanted to see you.” Damn, but she'd grown up like her father. That was where all this intensity and focus came from. Adachi didn't know how he hadn't figured that out sooner. And, just like her father, she was intimidating when she lasered in on you. He just didn't resent her for it.
“Wh-why would you wanna see me? It's been...man, ten years since I got landed in here.” He brought his hands up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Not like you probably have a lot of happy memories about me, huh?”
“I have enough.” Now the serious look was starting to worry Adachi. Nanako had never been this emotionally...well, dead before. Back when he knew her, she smiled at everyone, tried to make the best of a shitty home life, loved making her father and “big bro” happy. This girl...what had happened?
Was this his fault?
“N-Nanako-chan, I...well, I'm glad.” He shifted in his chair, not able to keep eye contact with her anymore. He fished around for any topic he could change this to, anything they could try and have a conversation about. “Uh...hey, man, you've really grown up since I last saw you! You've got to be what, seventeen now? Finishing up high school, wow. How has that—”
“I remember, Adachi.”
His breath caught in his throat. Remembered...? There were way too many things she could be talking about. He looked back up, and she was still watching him, but something in her eyes had changed. She looked...sad?
“R-remembered what, Nanako-chan?”
“Just call me Nanako.” And now her head dropped, breaking eye contact on her own for the first time as she stared at her hands. “And I remember you coming in that night. At the hospital.”
His chest gave a violent twist as his brain fished up every awful memory from those nights. The anger had faded over the years, but he could still feel how much he had hated the world—how much he'd reveled in the chaos he could bring to his otherwise boring and useless life—and then how that had all spun out from under him when he'd seen Nanako on the Midnight Channel. Remember fighting blindly through days and nights, not having a single damn clue why he cared about this kid and no one else.
And then the one night he'd snuck back into the hospital and let down the mask for just a few moments, crying though he didn't know why as he watched a dying little girl and wondered if maybe he really was the one killing all those people and if he was going to kill her too...
He'd used that confusion, that pain, and funneled it all back into what he'd been doing. Lashed out at her cousin—Narukami—and his friends. Let the power he'd been given eat him up, because who gave a shit anymore? Either he'd succeed and everyone could be Shadows, living in a world where all the bullshit and pain didn't matter because you only saw what you wanted to see...or he'd fail, and die in the hollow forest. Either way, he was done.
And then he hadn't been. And he'd had ten years to sit and think.
Ten years to sit, and remember that night in the hospital, and try to figure out if the one who had laughed as Mayumi Yamano and Saki Konishi fell to their deaths by his hand...or the one who had cried at Nanako's hospital bedside was the real Tohru Adachi.
“Oh.” It wasn't a great response, but it was the best he could manage. “I...uh.” She still wouldn't look up at him. He coughed. “I don't really know what to say.”
“I've read all the files on the case back then. Dad told me what he knew, and I've asked Yu about it as well.” So she'd stopped calling him 'big bro' like he didn't have a name. Somehow, that piece of knowledge did nothing to lessen the lump in his throat. “I know what really happened. I know about the place in the TV, and I know about the fight you had with Yu and his friends. I know what you told them.”
The sinking feeling in his stomach was getting worse and worse. He couldn't decide if her staring at him or the refusal to look at him was worse. “I...” What was she getting at? Where could she possibly be going with all this?
“You apologized to me, back then.”
Adachi swallowed. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“You told me that I wasn't supposed to get hurt. That you didn't want me to get hurt. I remember how sad you sounded. I didn't understand.”
Adachi's voice had utterly given out on him, dissolving anything he tried to say into croaks.
“I kept that secret, you know. Like you asked me to.” He didn't speak, and she must have read the silence as confusion. “I never told anyone you came to me back then. Not Dad, not Yu...no one.”
“Wh—I—but...” He could just manage a few words.
“I wanted to.” She looked up, and Adachi couldn't breathe. Tears streaked down her face, eyes just reddening at the edges. What!? Why the hell is she crying!? “They all say you never cared about anyone, that you just wanted to see the whole world burn and didn't care about a single person in it. But I know that's not true.” He could start to hear the Nanako he remembered in his voice, and it killed him that it took tears for him to hear her again. “You cared about me. You didn't want me to get hurt. But I promised you I wouldn't tell, so I never told them.”
“Nanako, I...” Now his eyes were burning, and he blinked, willing them to stay dry.
“Yu told me you were going to let the whole world get run over by those Shadow monsters. Let that awful fog come and just eat up everyone. Just so that everyone could make up their own perfect little life to live in and never worry about anything anymore.”
“I...” She's not wrong. “...yes.” He couldn't lie. Not to her. Not now. Anyone else, he could have found the facade he'd built all those years ago and brushed it off. But he knew she'd see through it. She'd always seen through it, broken past it, forced his hand. Then, it had been her innocence—now, he just knew she was too smart for him. She knew him too well.
She might be the only one who knew him that well.
“Why?” And in one word, that innocent, intelligent child destroyed him. In her voice, he could hear ten years of pain, of wondering, of confusion and anger. A child who knew something didn't add up, forced to keep silent while someone she knew had to have a different side of the story was jailed and convicted of murder. It was the opposite side of the coin Narukami had been on when he confronted Adachi, all alone and desperate, in the TV world. Adachi hadn't given a shit about Narukami or any of his wannabe-detective friends. (Or the one who actually was a detective.) Narukami had built up this image of Adachi as some goofy, lovable, stupid-but-well-meaning idiot who kept showing up at all the wrong times and spilling all the right information. All those kids had just been pawns in the game, ways he could keep playing and keep suspicion away from him.
Nanako had never been that. Even at the height of his anger, he couldn't make her a pawn. To her, he really was that stupid, well-meaning idiot. And he'd turned out to be something so much worse.
Adachi opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What could he tell her? Because I was angry? Because I thought the world was unfair? Because I'd gotten bored and been handed the power of the gods? How could be possibly say those words to this girl—young woman now—in front of him? Were those really a good reason?
In the end, he said the only thing he could, voice rough. “I don't know.”
“Yu said you told him you were bored in Inaba. You were looking for something to make it interesting. Because the two women wouldn't fuck you, and you thought they deserved it.”
Adachi's jaw went slack. It was one thing to see that Nanako had grown up. It was quite another to hear something like that leave her mouth. Damn, Narukami did really tell her everything. “I...” He swallowed, but the lump in his throat kept getting bigger. “I...”
“I don't understand, Adachi.” Tears were still running down her cheeks, and try as he might, he couldn't look away. “Why was I was so special? Why did you apologize to me and none of the others? It's your fault. You didn't kill them personally, but you're just as bad as if you did. It's your fault Saki-san and Yamano-san died. Your fault the teacher died. Your fault I died.”
It was the last sentence that hit the hardest. She had died. And he'd tried for years to tell himself that it wasn't his fault, he wasn't the one that did it, it was all Namatame...but was it? Would Namatame have ever come up with the idea to put people inside the television if he hadn't suggested the washed-up council secretary “find somewhere safe” for them? The idiot would have kept trying to warn people, he probably would have gotten locked up for being crazy, and no one else would have died unless...
Unless Adachi did it himself again.
Would he have?
“I don't know,” he choked out again, tugging at his hair with both hands. “I don't know. You're...you were different. You weren't like them.”
“Why? Because I was too young? I couldn't be a conquest and I wasn't competition?”
“No! That's not...” Adachi felt sick. His stomach was in knots, his chest aching. Somehow when she says it, everything sounds so much worse... “I was...just angry...”
“Angry at what? You weren't angry, Adachi—you were selfish!” She smacked the flat of her hand into the glass, and Adachi could see the guard outside the door turn as if to come in. Adachi just shook his head. Odd, for the criminal to be the one assuring the guard that the visitor meant no harm...or at least, he hoped she didn't. He didn't need anyone else hearing what Nanako was saying. “You were selfish and cruel and entitled! You worked so hard in school, you wanted to be tough and carry a gun, you got bored out in the sticks—you think your life was so damn hard, don't you? You don't get any sympathy from me, you selfish bastard.”
She's used the word selfish a lot. His brain was desperately trying to keep a hold of anything in the conversation, just to keep from losing his mind. He couldn't speak.
“I had to run my whole house for years after my mother died. And I did it with a smile, because I loved my father. Even when I thought he hated my mother, hated his life, hated me, I still did it. I worked at my school work, though my father never asked about it. I put myself to bed, because he was still at work. I learned to cook basic things because I had to, or I wouldn't eat. I did the shopping. I did the laundry. I did the dishes. When Yu came, I finally believed something could get better. Dad had to pay attention to two of us, right? But he didn't. Now he had a murder case to worry about, and a new detective to train.”
Adachi flinched at the venom in her last sentence. How many times did Dojima stay at the office because I hadn't been paying attention and fucked something up? I was just so happy to see him angry, I didn't think... I never thought... “Nanako...”
“I ran away from home. I thought about jumping in the river. And on that hospital bed, I still wasn't convinced it wouldn't be better for Dad if I just died because then I wouldn't be around to remind him of Mom anymore.” Her voice was cracking and taking Adachi's soul with it. “But I didn't. I came back when I heard everyone calling to me. And things got better at home. We were almost like a family again.”
Her eyes were fire when she caught his gaze again. “Until you.”
Adachi rocked back in his chair. “Wh-what? How...what did I...”
“How do you think my father's taken this?” Nanako's voice was dangerously wobbly. “You think just because you pissed him off, that means he's glad to have you in jail? That he's just shrugged it off and moved on?”
It took Adachi a moment to respond. “I...n-no, I mean, he's come to visit, but...he's just been the same...”
“You're not the only one who can act like nothing bothers you.” Her fists clenched on the counter in front of her. “He's had eight partners in ten years because he can't work with any of them. Either he transfers them or they quit. They almost took him off the force for a while, but he managed to convince them to keep him on. Quite a feat, since they've been suspicious of him ever since he fought for you to not get the death penalty.”
Now that was a two-by-four to the face. Dojima did what!? “I...what?”
“Three counts of murder? They were going to kill you, Adachi. My father submitted a formal plea as your supervisor to consider a jail time sentence instead. He said that a death sentence would only be giving you what you wanted, and that maybe if we just let you sit, you'd be a less heinous human being by the time they let you out.” Adachi could see Nanako visibly shaking. “Model prisoner or not, he still worries about you. Thinks about you. It took two or three years before he started acting like himself again at home. It was just a couple years ago that he finally found a partner he could work with, and you know who it ended up being? Chie Satonaka. They both went through your shit, so they understand each other.”
Satonaka...oh right, the tomboy. He hadn't realized she'd gone into the force. Adachi's brain was spinning. Dojima had fought for him not to get a death sentence? Eight partners in ten years? Why hadn't Dojima said anything when he came to visit? He just came in with a gruff smile, a cabbage, and some basic news about the outside world. They never talked about much. He had no idea...
“Why...why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he tell me?” His limbs felt numb.
“Because he doesn't know what he can trust you with anymore.” He deserved that, and it still felt like a sledgehammer. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph, pressing it against the glass.
“What...?”
“Look. Recognize them?”
Adachi leaned forward—and sure enough, he knew every face in the picture, though he hadn't seen most of them since he'd been locked up. Dojima he recognized, and Nanako next to him with a young man next to her, the only person he didn't recognize. On Dojima's other side had to be Satonaka, her hair longer now and pulled back into a sharp ponytail, but still with the same grin. Next to her was Narukami, his hair shorter now but still grey, looking as enigmatic as he always had. He had one arm around Satonaka and the other around a brunet young man it took Adachi a moment to recognize: Hanamura, the store manager's son. The hair was a different shade than Adachi remembered it. Maybe he'd dyed it. ...Or stopped dying it, as the case may be.
“Who's that?” he said, reaching out to tap the glass over the young man standing next to Nanako.
“None of your business.” She pocketed the photograph again. “Do you know how hard I've had to fight to keep that family together? How much shit my father, my cousin, all of his friends have been through since you got locked in here? While you've been in here, getting treated better than you did back at the station,” (he cringed at her using his own words against him) “we've been trying to rebuild the town you destroyed. The people you ruined. The lives that crumbled because of you.”
Adachi felt something on his face and rubbed at it, only to find his hand come back damp. So much for keeping the tears locked away. “I'm sorry,” was all he could manage, sounding too much like the man who crumpled at her bedside ten years prior. “I'm so sorry.”
“So am I.” She stood up, taking a breath and setting a hand flat against the glass. “I wanted so much to believe in you, Adachi. I wanted to believe that you were actually the person who cried for me in the hospital. Who wanted so much for me to get better.”
“I am,” he choked out, struggling to his feet to set a hand against the glass to match Nanako. “That was me too. I swear, that was me.”
She paused for a moment, then gestured to the guard outside the door. He came in, and she handed him a piece of paper, saying something soft enough that Adachi couldn't hear. The guard left again, and a moment later reappeared on Adachi's side. “That's from my cousin,” Nanako said quietly, turning back to Adachi.
The guard handed Adachi an envelope before walking out again. Sure enough, on the front was his name, printed in neat characters—and on the back, Narukami's name. “What is this...?”
“I don't know, I didn't read it. He told me to give it to you if I thought you were worth it.” She let her hand slip from the glass. “Please don't prove me wrong, Adachi.”
She turned to go, and Adachi's fists flew to the glass, trying to reach out to her and failing. “Wait—Nanako! Nanako! Wait!” But she didn't stop, only paused for a moment at the door before nodded to the guard, who escorted her out. His knees threatened to buckle, and a second guard came in and walked him back to his cell. He kept his head lowered, choking back tears.
In his cell, it took him likely close to an hour before he managed to open the envelope. What could he want to say to me? Odd, since it was likely that Narukami had thought the same thing, back when Adachi had written him about his suspicions on the Midnight Channel, and who was properly behind everything that had happened. He hadn't heard anything about it since.
The letter was neat, written precisely—as if it had taken a few drafts to get the wording right. Shackles gone now that he was locked in, he kept one hand over his mouth while he fought to keep the other steady as it held the letter.
Dear Adachi,
I guess I haven't really spoken to you since you sent me that letter all that time ago. You should know, then, that you were right. There was something more, and we've defeated that too. The fog is gone from our world and the world inside the television. I don't know if you'll be happy to hear that or not, but I wanted you to know.
I hope this letter gets to you. I told Nanako only to give it to you if she thought you were worth it, though I never really clarified what I meant. I know everything you've said to me, and everything we said back in the TV world, and everything you did...but I guess there's still some piece of me that hopes that somewhere in you is the guy I thought you were. The man my uncle trusted even when he didn't like him, the one who came and ate dinner with all of us, the one who talked to me all those nights and afternoons in Junes. Maybe it wasn't much to you, but it meant a lot to me. Maybe I was too, but you were kind of a dumbass right along with me.
You told me back then that you thought about us, while you were locked away. We think about you too, even now. My friends and I as well, though some of them are still angry with you. Uncle's told me you're considered a model prisoner, and I suppose I'm not surprised. I've been meaning to come visit, but...I'm not sure about it. I'm not sure I'm ready. But I want you to know that I'm willing to forgive you. I'll still always hope that you're the person I thought I met...and I hope someday, we can meet each other again and you will be.
On that note, this may be unsolicited advice, but I'd kick myself if I didn't at least say this. If at any point, you decide that you want to be that person you pretended to be... I believe you can. My friends and I faced our Shadows—the pieces of ourselves we hid, we weren't proud of, we didn't want anyone to see. It was hard as hell, and difficult to wrap our heads around it, but we did it. That's how we got our Personas. Yours...I believe your Persona is nothing more than your Shadow, and one that followed you because you were so much like your Shadow it had no reason to change. The person who attacked Mayumi Yamano and Saki Konishi is a piece of you as well...but so is the man who ate dinner with me and my family. If you accept both of those as yourself, and choose to live the better life... Well, I can't exactly say you'll find your Persona, but I think you'll find who the 'real' Tohru Adachi is.
It won't be easy. It's going to suck. But if a bunch of dumbass teenagers can do it, I bet you can.
There's not so much different between us, Adachi. We just chose different paths.
But there's room alongside me, if you'd like to try a new one.
Yu Narukami
The papers fluttered to the floor as Adachi doubled over, coughing on his sobs.