Chapter Text
The weather isn’t playin‘ along at all. Should be… kinda dreary. Cold. Should possibly even rain. Yeah, that would feel right. Big, fat, cold drops of rain.
Instead the air was mild, for early May at least. And while the sun wasn’t shining, he had not needed his umbrella. He still felt overdressed, however. Especially standing pretty much next to his house, at the entrance of the shrine, wearing the suit he had once made himself as an exercise, really, not as something to put on and walk around in.
Running a finger in and around the well-fitting collar, he once more doubted his impulse this morning after the nightmare. But his mind had been made up when his text, written with shaky, weak-feeling hands at two in the morning, was replied to with a brief SHRINE NOON Y/N.
This had not been Naoto’s idea. It was his. He had suggested it and she had agreed, in her brief and sometimes damned hurtful manner. Still. A WILL B THERE was better than, well, nothing?
“Kanji-kun?”
He jumped and whirled around to look at Naoto looking up at him. Her face looked… what? Surprisd? Shocked? She didn’t simply look at him like other days, anyhow.
“H-hey Naoto. Yer look nice.”
Shock turned into puzzlement. She looked down herself, then briefly smiled at her teal coat. Kanji had made it for her a few months ago, when she complained that she had lost her beloved single-breasted blue coat with white trimming. Well, to be fair, she had not lost it. Airline had lost the suitcase. It turned up, after about a month and possibly being half around the globe and back. Still enough time for him to design, make and work up the nerves to actually gift it to her.
“Thank you. And thank you again for making it, Kanji-kun.” She ran the slim fingers of her hand over the sleeves of the open coat. The smallest smile played on her lips, the kind she wore when she felt safe and unwatched and did not need to be Detective Shirogane.
I’d do so much more for this smile than just put together a simple jacket, Naoto.
“Ah. ‘s cool, yer needed one an’ no friend of mine will run around in any o’ that Junes crap.”
Her gaze turned up again, meeting his eyes calmly. “You are looking rather formal yourself. I am almost questioning my own choice for attire. Had I understood your intent of this being a formal occasion…”
He words trailed off as he started to shake his head before she had even gotten half-way through her second sentence.
“Na. I felt I needed ter show my better side today.” He ran his hands through his ungelled hair, sighing a little as he felt it settle back over his brow with a light sweep. “Uh… could we… Uhm.” He tilted his head towards the shrine.
She nodded and turned, walking to the left side of the path, climbing the stairs ahead of him.
I can’t tell her I’ve not slept since I work up after my first text. Can’t tell her what I dreamed. Can’t tell her why we’re at the shrine. But that’s why I called her ‘ere, right?
They walked to the temizuya , fetching water and running it over their hands in silence.
When he turned to walk right up to the building, he felt her light hand on his arm. No weights and chains could have held him more securely than that hand and the face which he knew was turned up to look at him. Kanji swallowed hard.
“Let’s stop by the trees first. I believe you require to reveal something and divulge a bit. Your urgent messages made that much quite clear to me.”
The lump in his throat grew. Breathing started to hurt again, as it had frequently since two this morning. He did not dare to speak. He did not dare to look at her. He simply nodded, turning towards the trees, walking past her without a glance at her.
Her hand slipped off his arm and he heard her fall in behind him, walking through the path of the trees.
Naoto watched him take the lead, noticing his avoidance of her touch and his lack of verbal reply. She decided that for now, following him was going to be sufficient.
Whatever his cognizance, he had articulated little of what caused his current disposition. If she had not been on call for a case Dojima was working on, she had possibly not reacted to her phone’s text message in the small hours of the night.
She had, in truth, not reacted at first, as his text messages had their own signal. After the ski trip earlier in the year, she had assigned to both his calls and texts a rhythmic vibration, no sounds. Generally this allowed her to be able to receive and react to his messages or calls without disturbing anyone else.
They had certainly grown closer. She felt a deep comfort knowing he had her back – physically and proverbially. Out of all her friends here in Inaba, he cared the most and simply sending a few text messages with him could feel as refreshing as resting up with a book for a full day. She had grown to depend on him for her own well-being in a manner she had not ever expected to with anyone but her Grampa.
At just past two-ten in the morning, her phone finally vibrated itself off her bedside table, having received a string of eight messages in short order. The clatter of it hitting the floor woke her at once. And regardless of the hour she felt the immediate urge to render comfort and support to the young man who had grown to be a pillar in her own life.
The first three messages were incoherent, written without his usual care and showed a high state of agitation and confusion. Messages four, five and six were more comprehensible, explaining him having awoken from a distressing dream, but his explanations were broken, disconnected and hard to follow. Quite possibly in the way of dreams the chimera had not given a clear scenario and instead painted a vague setting of discomfort for him.
When messages seven and eight (and, while she was reading, number nine) had all been apologies for sending so many messages and possibly having woken her, her mind was already made up. It was Children’s Day, she did not need to be anywhere and Kanji would not have contacted her this early in the morning unless his level of distress was great.
Before he was able to send another apology, she replied. It sounded like he needed a shoulder and she would be more than happy to provide that service to him. SHRINE NOON Y/N
She had also not expected to see him the way she did when she arrived at the shrine.
Kanji Tatsumi looked rather fetching in a suit. Unlike her, he was not sporting a tie, but the dark purple pants and blazer both framing a light blue shirt, were tailored to him, undoubtedly. She had never seen him wear anything like it before, and even without a tie and the top button undone and open, this was quite possibly one of the most attractive looks he had ever presented to her thus far.
It did not stop with his attire, either. He had not gelled his hair. It was not disorderly or unkempt as such, as simply combed to a more conservative style. It fell forward slightly, though years of forcing it back with gel meant that his hair had a swoop to it that still parted near his temple, showing his scar.
She pursed her lips. He has never spoken about this mark. Maybe at some point I should ask him to share more about his past. I would like to know more, understand him better…
She blinked. They had stood quietly under the canopy of the small grove at the shrine for some time. How long her thoughts had wandered she did not know, but it must have been long enough to make him feel uneasy.
“Kanji-kun?”
He frowned deeply, and his hands clenched and unclenched over… and over… and over again.
This whole meeting was for his benefit. She knew he enjoyed physical contact, much more so than she generally did. And as this was for his benefit, she reached out, placing her hands on his fists.
Her eyes widened. He was shaking. Looking up from his hands to him, she swallowed hard at the tightness that gripped her throat. Not just his hands shook. He trembled all over. His eyes were glistening, as if he had been fighting tears for too long and was starting to lose that battle.
She let her hands run up his arms to his elbow as she stepped closer. “Kanji-kun?”
He trembled and gently held her by her upper arms.
“Naoto.” The shiver in his voice made her chest ache in an unfamiliar and distressing way. “Have you ever thought about how my name is written?”
The surprise of this question wiped the concern from her face. A puzzle was laid before her, and one that seemed to only have two pieces to it. “Your name? What do you mean? It’s Kanji, correct?”
“I mean-“ A choked sob. “I mean, like, how’s spelled?”