Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The groan that leaves Kanji’s lips is a rather instinctive and practiced part of his morning routine. It’s always accompanied by the obnoxious drill of his alarm clock and the ache that seeps into his legs. 

Well, the ache was new. Maybe he needed to lay off all the late night biking. 

But now, in the early winter morning, before even the earliest of birds have begun their chirping, Kanji starts his morning. 

The first thing on his agenda, or rather the first step of his everyday routine, begins with a trip to the attic. Only after he brushes his teeth and ensures his glasses aren’t too muddied. 

The spools of yarn and intricate textiles that Kanji’s mother had organized in the summer are still squared away in their own boxes. He gathers what he knows he’ll need for today, for both selling and for his class later in the evening. 

With that taken care of, Kanji sets the kettle onto the stove. He’s in the shower only minutes later and out in even less time, now dressed in his mother’s own handmade work uniform custom made for him. He’s grown but Kanji had taken to making his own adjustments since he’d first received the gift on his sixteenth birthday three years ago. 

 A gentle knock. The clock hanging in the hallway ticks slowly. There’s a whistling of the kettle just down the hall. 

“Ma,” Kanji calls as he slides the door to her bedroom open, just barely casting any light into the room, his head poking through. “C’mon, get on up. It’s seven.” 

He waits, watching the slow rise and fall of her frame from beneath the blanket, before heading back towards the kitchen. He knows to leave the door cracked open for the light to bleed in, the final push that rises his mother from bed. 

And then Kanji works rather quickly in the kitchen. The tea is still hot, rice steaming, when his mother steps into the room. 

“Good morning, Kanji,” she greets, sleep clinging to her eyes and slippers clinging to the ground with every step. 

“Mornin’, ma,” he replies, already setting her serving of breakfast down onto the table, assuring her cushion is perfectly aligned. “You were slow gettin’ outta bed today.” 

She sighs, waving her hand in his direction before proceeding to grab a hold of her tea in both palms. 

It’s a slow start to the morning but by sundown, Kanji’s pretty much exhausted. He’s spent more than half the day assisting customers from all walks of life, most notably a few tourists from bigger cities, and then the other half of his day is spent cutting and tending to customer orders in the back room. 

The most exciting, and arguably fun point of his day, would be the gaggle of children he wrangles in the small space of the store, each sitting with crossed legs and big smiles that are missing a few teeth. Within their hands lay threads of yarn and a needle, their excitement nearly overwhelming. 

Kanji’s gotten better at keeping his patience close and not cursing too much. He makes sure to not raise his voice, not ever since he learned the children found it funny, and that they all follow the guide to some extent. 

Three times a week, seven o’clock on the dot.

And with a roll of his shoulders, just past eight thirty, Kanji gets the evening to himself. His mother is taken care of for the night, not that he did more than ensure she’d taken her supplements before getting in bed. 

There’s an air of excitement at having a few hours to himself, but Kanji’s mind is quickly ripped away at the ding of the bell from the entrance. 

The front door. Kanji swore he’d locked it.

With a rather swift walk, Kanji makes his way from the back of the shop to the front, his eyes narrowing at the figure who stands just in the entryway. Their back is turned to him, both palms stuffed into their thick winter coat with snow still clinging to the bottom of their black boots.

Kanji’s frowning on instinct. “Hey, I don’t know if you saw the sign but-”

Bright gray eyes meet his, and the feeling that erupts in Kanji is not too far off what he assumes it feels like to be struck by lightning. 

Gray eyes, short locks sticking out past a beanie that mimic the color of midnight. Kanji recognizes those features anywhere, even despite the years that have passed since their last meeting.

“N-Naoto?” he sputters out. 

Naoto stares right back, both of his hands tightly curled into the front of his coat, his shoes firmly planted into the ground.

There’s a pause that hits harder than any punch Kanji’s ever taken. 

“I uh, the sign said you were closed but th-the door was unlocked so…” 

A blink. Kanji should probably stop staring. 

“I-I can leave-” 

“No- no,” Kanji stammers out, clearing his throat as he stands straight up, shoulders square. “I uh, I just- I didn’t know you were in town.” 

Stupid attempt at a conversation but Kanji doesn’t even know where to begin. For one, he hadn’t seen Naoto in nearly two years. Sure, Kanji was a little isolated, still in Inaba while the rest of the group had wandered across the island and even the globe, but Kanji had remained the sole constant. 

The rest of the group tended to peak their heads around at least once every four months. Naoto was the sole outlier. 

Yet now, it’s as if Kanji is staring at someone else entirely. Naoto’s face is much more defined, once chubby cheeks now hollowed with age. His eyes still have a shine that Kanji swear is brighter than any star. His hair remains jet-black. 

“I was in the area,” Naoto answers, “um. I had a case. Well, I was working on one with the local department-” 

“Another serial killer?” Kanji cuts in rather bluntly. 

Naoto shakes his head. “No- No, nothing like that,” he assures, voice much deeper than Kanji recalls it ever being. “And not in Inaba. You’re safe, don’t worry.” 

There’s an effect the words have on Kanji that renders him nearly mush, his eyes locked on Naoto’s despite the heat he feels crawling up his neck. 

“But um, I just- I was…” Naoto pauses, shaking his head before clearing his throat once more. “Aiya’s having a winter-storm sale,” he states then. “I believe it’s thirty percent off a bowl.” 

Kanji blinks. 

“I-I…I was curious if you would- if you haven’t eaten already, if you’d join me.” 

The wind outside whistles against the chimes in the garden behind Kanji’s home, loud enough to be heard within the aged walls. His hands have clamped up into fists by his thighs and he’s not sure how much time has passed as he finally wills his lips to a weak stammer.

“U-Uh, yeah,” he mumbles, staring for another beat. “I-I can tag along.” His eyes flicker away at the small yet tense smile that grows over Naoto’s lips, his surroundings coming back to the forefront of his mind.

“Ah, shit,” he replies, shaking his head, “give me a minute. I just need to do something.” 

“O-oh, yes, of course,” Naoto murmurs, his hands now out of his coat, gloved palms by his side. “I hope I didn’t interrupt—“

“Nah, nah you’re fine,” Kanji assures quickly, stepping backwards with a fast wave. “Uh. Let me just— one minute!” 

With that, Kanji runs back into his home, stumbling up the steps and daring to poke his head into his mother’s bedroom. She’s fast asleep, gentle snores echoing through the small space and earning an excited, yet small smile on Kanji’s lips. 

His heart pounds in his chest as his arms work to quickly slide out of his work uniform and into the closest clean sweatshirt - a pale black sweater with a logo for some edgy company. It’s not his nicest shirt but Kanji’s more focused on gathering his thoughts and sliding into a pair of jeans. 

Shit. Shit. He hadn’t seen Naoto since the summer festival before last. And one of the very last things they’d done, they’d shared, was a quiet moment atop the hill overlooking the town. Where Kanji sat close, the air heavy with the smoke of fireworks and the smell of sugar lingering on their lips. 

He shakes his head. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce. He slides into his thick winter jacket and makes his way back to the front of the store without another thought beyond putting one foot ahead of the other. 

Naoto stands at the entrance. Kanji’s heart does a little skip in his chest. 

Aiya’s rather empty. There’s a few business men that sit at the bar, leaving a stool between them as they quietly tend to their own bowls.

Kanji's already had dinner, and despite his large, seemingly unrelenting appetite, he isn’t hungry. Still, he goes through the motions of eating and finds there’s little escape from the man seated across from him. 

It’s quiet. There’s the clean up from the kitchen and the occasional clink of Naoto’s chopsticks against his bowl. 

There’s very little conversation. Kanji wracks his brain for any ideas, anything beyond how Tokyo was. 

He clenches his jaw and stabs his chopsticks into the yellow of his boiled egg. 

“Oh,” Naoto starts then, clearing his throat as he looks up to Kanji from across the booth. “H-Have you heard from Rise recently?” 

Kanji blinks, slurping up a noodle before nodding his head. “We text regularly,” he answers, pausing to finish his chewing. “She was in town last month.” 

“Oh.” Naoto blinks at him before looking back down at his bowl with a slight furrow of his brows. “I was not aware of that.” 

Kanji shrugs a shoulder. “She visits every seven weeks or so. I don’t know how she manages it. She never tells me when she’s coming, she just shows up.” 

“Right,” Naoto murmurs, “that sounds like her.” 

Dangerous territory. Kanji’s desperate for an out. “But uh, h-how’s the big city?” he asks, pushing around the food in his bowl. “I’m sure you see Yu and Yosuke pretty often.”

“Not as often as we’d like,” Naoto responds, “but we do have dinner when we can. They’re just as busy as I am.” 

“College, eugh,” Kanji replies, “couldn’t imagine studyin’ anymore than I had to.”  

There’s a weak smile on Naoto’s lips as they slip back into silence, finishing out their meal without much of a fuss. Naoto tries, and ultimately fails, to pay the bill, losing to Kanji’s faster and longer arms. 

They walk out side by side and it’s then Kanji finds himself more lost than he’s ever been on the street he’d grown up on. 

“Uh,” Kanji starts, clearing his throat. “Are you-– did you drive into town?” 

Naoto shakes his head, reaching up to fix his hat over his head. “I’m staying at the Amagi Inn,” he answers. “Yukiko’s mother let me know she’s in Sapporo for school.” 

Kanji nods his head once, only to freeze. “I-I don’t–– the buses don’t run this late.” He turns to face Naoto. “How did you get here?”

Naoto gives a weak shrug. “Walked.” 

“Y-You–- You walked?”

The shorter man nods. “It’s a mere twenty minute stroll,” he assures with a wave of his gloved hand, “nothing I don’t manage in the big city everyday.”

“It’s–– It’s freezing!” Kanji counters, “a-and there’s no sidewalks that far out. Plus the snow is all mushy and piled up on the sides of the road.” 

There’s a slight smirk on Naoto’s lips. “Would you have preferred if I didn’t show up?”

“No!” Kanji cries out, “I-I just–– I’m not letting you walk back in this weather. It’s freezin’. Come on, I’ll drop you off.” 

“Drop me off?” Naoto calls, following after Kanji. “Wh-When did you get a car?”

“Uh, I didn’t,” he answers, still leading the way, “but I did get a motorbike.” He doesn’t turn back to face the other man but he makes out the stammer that leaves his lips all the same. 

“I-I can’t- I can’t just take a ride this late,” Naoto adds, “I-I’m sure you have work to get to and––” 

“Then why are you still followin’ me to my place?” Kanji cuts in then, coming to a sharp stop just in front of his home. His voice is naturally quieter, terrified of waking his mother, or worse, his neighbors who still haven’t forgiven him for his rowdy teenagehood. 

Naoto stares up at him, the edge of his nose tinged red in the cold. There’s a puff of air that leaves his lips, Kanji’s own breath fogging the space between them both.

Silence. The clouds hang heavy in the sky. 

“I-I– I wasn’t going to just leave,” Naoto replies, “that’d be rude. A-And you paid for my meal!”

Kanji shakes his head, turning his back to Naoto as he squeezes between his home and the fence on the other side. “If you have such a problem with the thought of ridin’ with me, you can ride alone.” 

With that, he holds out his helmet to Naoto, other palm wrapped tight around the handle of his motorbike. Naoto stares up at him and Kanji nearly melts under his gaze. 

“No- I-I– It’s not about you,” Naoto sounds out, shaking his head as he squeezes the bridge of his nose, looking down at the snow dusted ground between them both. “I just– I wouldn’t want to be a-a, a bother, I suppose.” 

Kanji stares right at him for a long moment, long enough for Naoto to look back up with beautiful, wide eyes, and a slight pout. 

His face invokes a feeling in Kanji that only serves to warm his frigid face, his gaze immediately dropping to the helmet in his hands.

He contemplates his next move for a mere second. And then he’s placing the helmet down over Naoto’s head.

“K-Kanji!” 

“What? I’m not gonna be responsible if you bust your head open while driving this thing,” Kanji replies, “just drive it back tomorrow.” 

Naoto stammers, lifting the helmet off his head. “No- just- just wait a minute,” he cuts in, his hands curled into fists as Kanji meets his gaze then.

There’s a beat of silence, the sky heavy with thick clouds. Kanji stares.

“I-I think my license expired,” Naoto replies, “o-or at least- I haven’t ridden a motorbike since I was last in Inaba. You don’t really need one when you have a train system.” 

Kanji stares for a second. “Guess you’re stuck with me bein’ your personal chauffeur tonight.” He moves to grab the secondary helmet, the bright pink one with a flower design, his eyes widening as Naoto secures the strap to his helmet under his chin.

“It’s, um, quite cute,” Naoto sounds out then. 

Kanji shakes his head, refusing to meet the shorter man’s gaze. “It’s not mine, it’s Rise’s,” he replies quickly. “We ride together when she visits.” 

With a set of his jaw, Kanji secures the bright helmet over his head, fixing the strap under his chin before finally looking over to Naoto, his hands on his hips.

The man looks as if he’s trying rather hard to hide a smile.

“Look man, you can take this one if you think it’s so funny!” Kanji cries. 

“No! No- no, it’s–– it’s not funny!” Naoto assures through his giggles, “i-it’s–– It’s cute. I like it.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Kanji grumbles, his hands on the bike’s handles as he kicks up the stand, trying and failing to hide just how red his face is. “C’mon, we gotta roll it up the street.”

“Oh?” Naoto replies, falling in step on the other side of the bike.

“My mom will wake up to the sound of the engine if I turn it on here,” Kanji explains, “it’s just up the hill to the intersection. You can sit if you want.” 

“I-I can push!” Naoto assures, quickly helping guide the bike out of the alleyway. 

Kanji predictably does most of the real heavy lifting, albeit the silence with Naoto barely lasts once they’re pushing onto the street, the shorter man looking over. 

“Um, thank you,” Naoto sounds out then, “you didn’t have to do this.” 

Kanji doesn’t look over. “And turn down the chance to really talk to you in almost two years?”

The words leave his lips quicker than he can stop them, a twinge of regret sparking in his chest as he grips the handles even tighter, his jaw now set. 

Naoto stumbles over a few stammers before clamping his mouth shut once more.

“I wouldn’t let anyone walk so far this late in the night,” Kanji goes on, “there might not be a killer on the loose, but it’s still dangerous.” 

They walk the next few steps in silence, up until Kanji fishes his keys out of his pocket, setting the bike back up onto a stand. He looks to Naoto, the smaller man looking right up at him.

“Uh, can you get on on your own?” he asks. 

Naoto’s cheeks are no doubt as red as Kanji’s, the taller of the two looking down at his heavy boots as he clears his throat quietly.

“I-I think so,” Naoto murmurs, “um, should I get on now?”

Kanji nods, holding the bike upright for him. “You can hold onto my seat,” he instructs, watching as Naoto does a rather adorable bounce before swinging his leg over. Kanji watches carefully as the smaller man gets comfortable, sitting still before looking up to Kanji. 

“D-Does this look right?” Naoto asks, “it’s been a while since I’ve ridden a motorbike.”

Kanji nods with a slight smile, throwing his leg over as he climbs onto the bike. He turns the key in the ignition, the engine slowly coming to life as he kicks up the stand. “You holdin’ on?” Kanji asks over the rumbling engine, looking back at the man.

Naoto looks up at him with big eyes, giving Kanji a look that promptly makes his heart flip. 

“I-I– I hold onto the edge of the seat, correct?” Naoto asks over the engine. 

“Yeah,” Kanji answers, looking back ahead, “But don’t worry, I won’t let you fall!”

With a roar of the engine, the pair take off down the street, Naoto’s lips parting with a yelp as his palms curl around the back of Kanji’s coat tight. 

The Amagi Inn looks as antique and beloved as Kanji has always known it to be. Some of his earliest memories were the rare weekends he’d spend with both his parents. He’d be more than a little excited, nearly bouncing off the walls before his father would need to coax him into the warm water of the baths. 

“Well, here you go,” Kanji murmurs, his bike now off and standing on its own. He waits for Naoto to get off first, kicking his own legs over and coming to a stand across from him only seconds later.

There’s a quiet pause, the tall trees surrounding the inn swaying with the chilled breeze. 

“Thank you, Kanji,” Naoto murmurs, fixing the buttons of his pleated jacket. “I appreciate the ride. And the dinner.” 

Kanji shrugs his shoulders. “It was, um, nice- the dinner. A-and seeing you.”

Naoto looks up at him then and Kanji nearly kicks himself for saying something so awkward, so stupid. 

“It was nice seeing you too,” Naoto replies then, oblivious to the skip Kanji’s heart does. 

“Are you– are you heading back to Tokyo tomorrow?” Kanji asks with more desperation than he really intends. 

 Naoto surprises Kanji with a shake of his head. “I’m here until Monday,” he answers, “I am seeing my grandfather tomorrow at his estate. But then I plan on spending the weekend here.” 

“O-Oh,” Kanji stammers, blinking. “That’s– that sounds like a, uh, blast.” 

There’s another heavy pause that Kanji could practically melt into, his hands shoved into his coat pockets as he stares back at the inn.

“But I-I don’t have any plans for the weekend,” Naoto goes on, “I’m sure you’re very busy, but if you weren’t, I-I wouldn’t mind seeing the beach.”

It’s Kanji’s turn to stammer, staring right at the shorter man with a hanging jaw. He manages to nod his head. “I-I don’t hold any classes on Saturday and we close Sundays,” he explains, “so uh, whenever you, uh, want t-to. You know where t-to find me.” 

Naoto smiles, his arms crossing over his chest as he looks up at the taller man with a near twinkle in his eyes. 

“That I do,” he murmurs, only to shiver. 

“Get inside,” Kanji pretty much orders, nodding to the inn as he climbs onto his bike. “It’s frickin’ freezing.” 

“Yes, yes, that's a good idea,” Naoto chuckles out, taking a step back after handing his helmet to Kanji, the same smile on his lips.

“Oh, before I go.” 

Kanji furrows his brows, heart racing loud in his chest.

“I-I like what you did with your hair,” Naoto sounds out, still walking backwards with a slight smile. “It suits you.” 

Kanji’s shoulders drop, eyes wide and a near pout on his lips as he stares at the laughing man, his hand raised for a wave. 

“Goodnight, Kanji!” Naoto calls, giving him a final wave before disappearing up the steps to the inn.

Kanji sits on his bike for another beat, palm raised to give a weak wave to the empty air.

Kanji walks his bike down the street with a frown, brows furrowed and eyes locked on the ground ahead. The overhead lights buzz but Kanji’s thoughts have drowned out nearly every sound in the world around him.

Naoto was back. Naoto wanted to see him.

The thought alone sends a million butterflies fluttering in Kanji’s stomach, more than enough to make his chest lurch. 

Why now? Why after the year and a half of ignored texts and unanswered calls? 

Had Naoto actually missed Kanji? 

It’s a terrifying thought with even more terrifying consequences. Kanji’s mind races, thoughts loud and distracting from everything around him. 

Except for the bright lights that shine from behind him, startling him upright as he whips his head at the approaching car.

Kanji jolts and his worst nightmare rears it’s rather ugly face.

A police car. Great. 

Despite the near half decades that's passed since the end of Kanji’s… troubled days, the cops in town still gave him a rather difficult time. He spent most of his time avoiding them all together and sticking embarrassingly close to his mother whenever they went out— not out of fear, of course.

They tended not to bother her. 

Kanji turns his head forward, keeping his chin down in hopes of not being bothered. It wasn’t too late, just after nine, but Kanji was still a ‘suspect’ in the eyes of the police department.

The window rolls down. Kanji curses silently.

“Kanji?” 

There’s a relief in the voice, one that makes Kanji’s shoulders drop. “Oh, h-hey Dojima-san.” 

The older man’s arm is out the window, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he stares at Kanji.

To say their relationship was… awkward would be an understatement. From many nights spent locked up over petty crimes to suddenly being one of his nephew’s best friends, and an accomplice in saving his daughter’s life, Dojima had no choice but to at least tolerate Kanji.

Nanako being in his class seemed to speed that process along rather nicely. 

“What’re you doing out so late?” Dojima asks, genuine concern dripping from his words. “Did your bike give out?”

Kanji shakes his head. “No- No, I just didn’t want to wake the neighborhood up,” he assures, managing a tense smile. “You know how my ma is.” 

Dojima’s brows stay furrowed. “Where are you coming back from?” 

Forever the detective. Kanji fights the instinctive urge to tell him a few unkind words. “Th-The Amagi inn, sir,” he answers, clearing his throat. “I was dropping off a friend.” 

“Let me guess, Shirogane?” 

Kanji can only pray that his cheeks aren’t as red as he feels them to be. 

“Y-Yeah,” he answers with wide eyes, “how’d you know?”

“He stopped by the station earlier,” Dojima answers, looking Kanji up and down briefly. “It was nice to see him.” 

Kanji manages a weak smile and a nod. 

“Need a ride?” Dojima asks then, nodding to the back of his car. “I’m headed down that way anyway.” 

Kanji would rather walk in the snow than have to share a car ride with the detective. He shakes his head quickly. “I-It’s only a few more minutes, I-I’ll be alright.” He nods to his bike. “I gotta haul this anyway.” 

Dojima stares for another moment, eyes narrowed before giving him a nod. “Alright,” he answers, “don’t stay out too late. It’s supposed to snow.” 

“I-I won’t, Dojima-san, thanks,” Kanji assures with a nod.

The man gives him a tense smile before rolling up his window and continuing down the street. Kanji waits for him to turn the corner before resuming his walk, a sigh leaving his lips. 

His attention is only focused ahead for a beat before his phone dings, Kanji immediately digging his hand into the back of his jean pocket with a skip of his heart. 

The text that shines bright in the darkness nearly leaves him breathless. 

Naoto: Thanks again. Get home safe.

The flurries outside do little to counter Naoto’s rather stubborn nature, each step in the piling snow only serving to frustrate and anger him more. He was late enough as is, even without the bus arriving late to his stop. 

He had half a mind to send a text, but even then Naoto wasn’t sure when he’d finally make it to the shopping district. A text would only make him more nervous and make the anticipation so much more mortifying.

Naoto carries his arms closer to his stomach and steps further and further up the street, his eyes wide and searching. The store he has his eyes set on is finally within view and it’s only then that he feels the weight of the world rest squarely on his chest.

Damn it. Why was he so nervous?

This was his idea! Coming to Inaba unannounced, looking for the one person in the country that accepted him with no questions asked. 

And then Naoto had all but ignored him for a year and a half due to his own dumb feelings- his own fear.

Yet, despite the hurt he’d no doubt caused, Kanji had accepted Naoto’s abrupt offer to dinner and even dropped him off at the inn. 

Naoto owed him more than just an apology. 

He shifts his wrist, lowering his sleeve and staring down at his grandfather’s watch.

18:09.

Damn it. 

With another few fastened steps, and a quick dusting off of his shoulders, Naoto steps into the store with a slight grimace. The same jingle announces itself from above, but this time, Kanji’s nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, his mother stands at the center of the shop, palms holding two different fabrics as she nods to another elderly woman who’s mid conversation.

They both turn to Naoto and he nearly melts into the ground. 

“Oh, I remember you,” the woman greets, giving him a small smile, “you’re that little detective.” 

Naoto steels his nerves as he does a slight nod of his head, giving her a weak smile. “Good evening, Tatsumi-san, I was looking for––” 

“Kanji, yes, he’s been waiting for you,” she giggles, nodding her head to the back of the store, “go and fetch him, will you?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” Naoto stammers, giving her a decent bow as he steps past the pair, Kanji’s mother already resuming her conversation with the customer. 

Naoto makes sure to keep his arms close, weaving through the small hallway as his ears quickly make out the sound of obvious machinery. His eyes narrow, legs moving faster before Naoto finds himself within a doorway.

His eyes naturally land on the only movement in the room, surrounded by boxes and a sea of bright fabric. Kanji sits in the center of the room, legs crossed under the kotatsu and fingers bunched up beside a sewing machine. He’s gently guiding a bright orange fabric into the machine, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

He looks rather adorable. Bangs tied back with a bright red scarf and his work robe resting nicely on his wide shoulders. He’s got a needle in his lips, red string wrapped within it, and a look of focus that’s nearly intimidating.

His hair isn’t quite long enough to be put up and Naoto finds the jet black against golden tips to be rather… nice.

Naoto’s not sure how long he’s been staring but Kanji shifts first, moving the fabric up against the machine and shifting naturally, his gaze flickering up to Naoto.

Kanji, surprisingly, jolts, his eyes wide and a weak cry leaving his lips. There’s a bang, no doubt attributed to his knee hitting the underside of the table, and Naoto nearly takes his leave then and there.

“N-Naoto!?” Kanji cries out, clearing hist throat as he sits upright, promptly dropping the fabric and turning off the sewing machine. “Wh-What–- When did you–– How long have you been standing there!?”

“I-I just got here!” Naoto assures, his hands raised, “sorry– I just–I didn’t mean to stare.” 

There’s a silent beat in which Kanji climbs to a stand, dusting off his lap and curling his hands by his sides. His face is predictably rather red, eyes wide and jaw set as he stares at Naoto. 

Crap. He should probably say something. 

“Wh-What are you making?” Naoto blurts out, immediately cringing. 

But Kanji’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. Maybe Naoto hadn’t completely ruined everything. 

“Uh, it’s–– it’s for um, it’s a mock-up,” Kanji stammers, looking down at the bundles of fabric. “The city council reached out to my Ma about making a banner for the summer festival.” 

Naoto’s eyes widen. “Wow,” he breathes out, “that’s- that’s amazing.” 

Kanji shrugs his shoulders, reaching up to undo the bandana from around his forehead. He drops it to the table, running a quick hand through his hair before fixing his glasses. 

“Um,” Naoto starts again, “I apologize. For being late.” 

There’s a tense beat that Kanji can’t seem to stand, his arms stretching behind his back before he’s moving to bundle up the fabric on the table, clearing his throat.

“S’alright,” he answers, “I just wasn’t sure if you were still comin’.” 

“I wouldn’t cancel without giving you a warning,” Naoto counters, only to cringe at the dishonesty in his own words.

Kanji doesn’t say anything.

“Well, if you…” Naoto pauses to clear his throat. “The weather is too dangerous for a beach trip,” he mumbles, “but… but I’m still in town. A-And if you weren’t too busy…”

Kanji looks almost surprised, brows raised as he looks over to Naoto, the sea of fabric in his arms. 

“I figured we could… I’m not sure. I-I doubt it’d be nice to be out in this weather…” 

The front door to the store shuts and there’s an echo of the bells hanging there. Kanji sets the now folded fabric down, his hands on his hips. 

“I have to make Ma dinner now,” he mumbles, shifting to cross his arms instead, staring at the space between them. “But– i-if you wanted, y-you could stay. And eat with us.” 

Eating at the Tatsumi home- eating Kanji’s cooking. Naoto wasn’t even sure what to expect. Would his mother mind? What would they do after? Was there even spa––

“Yes,” Naoto answers before he’s even done processing a complete series of thoughts. “I-I’d–– I would like that.” 

Kanji stares for another beat before nodding. “Alright, c’mon, we gotta get started,” he mumbles, stepping over to the doorway and standing right beside Naoto.

There’s very little Naoto forgot about Kanji from the last year and a half of silence. He knew the man was tall and rather intimidating when up close, but seeing him standing so close now is quite the opposite. 

He looks up into his gray-blue eyes and Kanji’s lips twitch into a small, shy smile.

“You know your way around a kitchen?” he asks.

Naoto stammers. “I-I–– I can hold my own.” A lie, but Naoto wasn’t about to give in so quickly. 

“Alright then!” Kanji announces, “c’mon, we got twenty minutes before Ma’s done closing up shop!” 

With that, Kanji takes off down the hall, Naoto following after with a rather excited giggle.

The evening goes a lot better than Naoto could have ever hoped. Sure, he’d nearly tripped and dropped a helping of rice, but Kanji had only snorted and made sure to kick in the chair. 

It’s not a big kitchen and Naoto’s bumped against Kanji more than enough times to start blushing profusely. 

More surprisingly, or maybe not that surprising at all, Kanji’s a rather damn good cook. It’s not an extraordinary menu but Naoto’s more than ready to dig into his second bowl. 

With dinner complete and Kanji’s mother in her bedroom for the night, Kanji and Naoto are alone once more. The rest of the home is as small as the front of the store, with tight hallways and the traditionally small rooms.

The pair sit in the front of the television under the kotatsu in silence. There’s some boring game show on the screen but Naoto’s more intrigued by the gentle rhythm by the hook in Kanji’s hands. 

He works the pale yellow yarn around the hooks gently, eyes more focused on the television show than on the actual movement of his fingers. 

It’s admirable, amazing really, Naoto’s legs are crossed underneath him. 

“Starin’ is rude, y’know,” Kanji mumbles, albeit there’s an air of embarrassment to his words. 

Naoto jolts, shaking his head. “S-Sorry!” he cries, inching closer to set his elbows down onto the table, his chin in his palm. “It’s- it’s just rather fun to watch.” Which it was- after dinner, the duo had retired to the kotatsu, albeit this time to simply chat, watch the television, and relax.

Kanji snorts but Naoto makes out the sudden red tinge of the tips of his ears. “Just crocheting,” he mumbles, this time offering a shrug. “Everyone can do it.”

“I can’t,” Naoto responds, shaking his head, “what are you making?” 

“Another keychain,” Kanji answers, shifting to unravel his fingers from the yarn, pushing back from the kotatsu and earning a look from Naoto. “I’ve done enough for today, my hands are crampin’ up.” 

Naoto’s gaze flickers down to Kanji’s fingers, the man already moving away and to the glass window behind the television. Naoto doesn’t miss the way he flexes each hand, a slight line of worry furrowing in his brows as he watches him.

“Shit,” Kanji mumbles. 

“What is it?” Naoto calls, coming to a stand, “is there something-” 

“I-I lost track of time,” Kanji stammers, stepping back as Naoto comes to a stand beside him. “I didn’t realize it was gonna snow all evening!” 

Naoto blinks, hands against the glass, cupping his eyes as he stares out into the world. It’s… a snowy, winter wonderland, inches of snow piled upon the ground, easily to his ankles. Heavy snowflakes continue to fall, silently landing in the street.

Rather impossible to walk in, much less drive in. 

“Oh,” Naoto breathes out, breath fogging up the window. “That is… a lot of snow.” He peels back, meeting Kanji’s gaze with a blink. There’s an obvious panic in his words and Naoto finds his own stomach twisting.

Right. How would he get back to the inn in this weather? His gaze drops to his watch, the hour now just past nine. 

Well. Naoto looks back up to find Kanji running a hand through his hair. 

“Um, well,” Naoto starts, “I… I suppose your motorbike is out of the question.” 

A noise akin to a groan leaves Kanji’s lips, his face contorted into one of anguish. Naoto grimaces. 

“Shit, uh, we- we can try waiting it out,” Kanji offers, his hand on the back of his neck. “O-Or maybe, I can try to start the bike-” 

“It’s no use,” Naoto cuts in, his arms crossed and fingers holding his own chin. “I… I believe we’re stranded. Or at least, I am.” 

Kanji groans once more, his shoulders dropping. “W-Well, shit.” He looks down to Naoto, his brows furrowed with a look of what could only be described as anguish, his face a shade paler and eyes wide. 

“I didn’t account for the weather,” Naoto mumbles, sighing out a note after a beat. “I suppose you don’t mind if I spend the night––” 

Kanji spins to face him, hands out by his side as he stares down at Naoto.

For a moment, Naoto can only really stare, both confused and intrigued by the mortified look on Kanji’s face. Sure, there’s an air of embarrassment at the prospect of having to stay over, but it was very much impossible to leave the home in such treacherous weather.

Unless… Kanji didn’t want him to stay?

“Uh- O-Only– if it isn’t any trouble, of course,” Naoto stammers out, suddenly embarrassed with just how close he’s standing to the man.

“No- No, of course not,” Kanji replies with just as much panic, “I-I have space. Y-You can stay in my room. I-I’ll take the couch.” 

Naoto frowns. “Your room?” 

Kanji nods. “A-And the door locks so you have privacy,” he adds, taking a step back, “And I wouldn’t bother ya. Just- Just need to change and––” 

He’s rambling now but Naoto picks up on Kanji’s sudden lack of eye contact, the flush of his cheeks, and the curl of his fists.

It takes a moment to really click before Naoto finds himself frowning.

Kanji was nervous.

“If it makes you uncomfortable,” Naoto starts, “I’m sure I could walk––” 

“No!” Kanji cuts in, “no- I-I’m not uncomfortable. I-It’s–– It’s you. I just– I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

A rare occurrence, but Naoto’s mind draws a blank, eyes locked on Kanji’s as the man stares down at him. There’s a beat, and then another, before his words return.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Naoto slowly sounds out, “why would I be…?”

“Y-Y’know, I-I just–– people, kids, they all used to talk,” Kanji stammers, no longer able to meet Naoto’s gaze, “some still d-do, a-and– I just- I didn’t want ya bein’ scared to sleep under the same roof a-as me.” 

Naoto blinks. “Why would I be–?”

“Y-You know why!” Kanji stammers. 

Naoto in fact, did not know. He starts to slowly shake his head, only for Kanji to groan.

“Y-You saw the Midnight Channel!” he cries out. 

Oh.

There’s a pause, heavy and silent, one that looks ready to envelop both Kanji and Naoto rather sharply. But Kanji only looks more miserable with each passing second.

Naoto works his jaw, opening and shutting his mouth before speaking once more, voice low but missing any semblance of sharpness.

“Kanji,” he starts, the man rigid but not meeting his gaze. “You don’t make me nervous.” He turns to face him, arms crossed over his chest. “Who- Do you think I’m afraid of spending the night with you?”

There’s an implication in his words that renders the tips of Naoto’s ears warm but he doesn’t get the chance to correct himself, not as Kanji groans.

“O-Other people have! I-I just wanted––” he cuts himself off with another groan. “No, no, just- just forget about it. C’mon.” 

He tries to step away but Naoto’s arm moves on its own volition, palm wrapped tight around Kanji’s wrist. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a great idea to startle the man who not only towered over him, but could very much lift him with no sweat.

But Kanji responds, not in a violent way, but a scared one, his frame twitching at the touch and eyes wide as he spins to face Naoto. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” he repeats slowly.

Silence permeates the room, Kanji’s chest falling and rising much faster than Naoto’s. His lack of response only further startles Naoto, dread slowly filling his frame. Kanji doesn’t look anywhere near ready to speak and so the silence only carries on.

Naoto drops his grip from Kanji’s warm, soft wrist. “Are you sure you’re alright with me staying for the night?”

Kanji nods with a fierceness. It’s adorable. 

A small smile graces Naoto’s lips and it’s then he’s led upstairs, keeping close to Kanji as the man slides open the door to his bedroom. 

It’s rather quaint, which comes as a surprise, Naoto finds. The twin sized bed is to the corner of the room, just below a window, and he shares a wall with a dresser. There’s a small workstation and desk only a foot or so away, spools of yarn and plenty of knitting equipment resting over the surface. 

His bed is probably the most surprising of anything else, piled with different stuffed animals that were no doubt made by him. 

Naoto’s smile is instinctual. 

“Sorry, it’s kinda small,” Kanji mumbles, stepping into the room and opening the dresser. “M’glad I tidied up before you got here.”

It’s rather clean, save for the work station, and Naoto’s eyes are already wandering. He searches the desk first, finding various works in progress, including but not limited to plenty of keychains. There’s two drumsticks which quickly earn a slight smile from his lips as he recalls them to be the ones that Kanji had used in their make-shift band. 

“Uh… okay, let me see if I have any… shorts. Or sweatpants.” 

Naoto doesn’t look over to the other man as his gaze lands on the few dust-covered picture frames on the desk, hidden behind some spools of yarn. One hosts none other than Kanji, albeit his hair is still blonde. His mother stands beside him and judging on his outfit, it’s his first day of work. His mother smiles proudly, hand on his arm. 

It’s taken right in front of the shop. Naoto can’t help the warm feeling in his own chest. 

His eyes then flicker to the portrait behind it, this one much more hidden. But Naoto’s nothing if not nosey, his eyes narrowing on the frame as he picks it up in his palm. It’s of a man Naoto’s never seen, his hair jet-black and eyes crinkled with a smile. Naoto can’t tell from the framing if he’s very tall or if Kanji is small.

He couldn’t be any older than eight, seated beside the man on a bench outside. The man’s eyes are indistinguishable from Kanji’s own, his glasses over the edge of his nose as he throws an arm around Kanji’s smaller frame.

Kanji’s missing a tooth and there’s a stuffed animal in his arms, but his hand is wrapped rather tight around the man’s wrist. 

It didn’t take a detective to decipher just who was in the photograph. 

“Uh, Naoto?” 

He jolts, setting the portrait down and spinning to face the man. His eyes are wide but confusion floods his features as he stares ahead. 

“I-I don’t think I have anything smaller,” Kanji mumbles, holding up a pair of sweatpants in one palm and some basketball shorts in the other. “I uh, I can check with my mom…” 

“The sweatpants,” Naoto answers, “I can tie it tight.” 

“Okay, cool,” Kanji murmurs, holding them out, “uh, well. I-I’m gonna go change.” 

Naoto gives him a nod, watching as the man stalks out with clothes under his elbow. The door shuts and it’s then Naoto makes his way over, locking the door before turning to the clothing left for him on the perfectly made bed.

A pair of sweats and a hoodie that were both definitely too big for his frame. Naoto’s fingers twitch with the fabric before shaking his head. 

He’s quick to slide out of his patterned vest, setting it down and gently fondling the nice material. His nimble fingers work to undo each button of his white button up, sliding out of the long sleeve without another word. 

His gaze naturally drops to his now flattened chest. A relief, really, but something that he was still adjusting to six months after the initial surgery. 

Shaking his head, Naoto fixes his tank top over his shoulders and then slides into the provided hoodie and sweats. They’re… rather large and Naoto pretty much sinks into the apparel, but it’s better than sleeping in his slacks.

Naoto sits onto the bed, the mattress firm but with enough softness to be suitable for the night. Brushing against the nearest stuffed animal, a hand-stitched and obviously well loved bear, Naoto finds himself smiling. 

Sure, he knew that Kanji had a softer side, but seeing his own space free of judgment felt like a blessing of some kind. His eyes naturally drift back over the room, and then to the portrait that had caught his attention earlier. 

There was no doubt about it, the man in that portrait was Kanji’s father- which only furthered Naoto’s curiosity. 

Kanji had never made mention of the man before. What else did he not know of his friend? 

A gentle knock at the door pulls Naoto from his mind, his eyes wide as he jolts, turning to look at the entrance. 

“Uh, Naoto?” Kanji whispers, “I-If you’re not done- I-I can wait. I just wanted to make sure-”

Naoto slides the door open without another beat, his gaze locked up and onto Kanji’s, only to blink at the sight.

Kanji’s dressed in a tank not too unlike what he’d wear in the warmer months, his legs hidden behind a pair of patterned pajama pants. There’s a design on his tank that Naoto doesn’t recognize but his eyes are more focused on just how defined and broad Kanji’s shoulders are.

Wait. 

“Uh, sorry, are ya done?” Kanji asks, hand in the front of his hair, “I just need my phone and then you can uh, sleep.”

Naoto pauses. “Wait, where will you rest?” he asks. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Kanji answers, stepping into the room and past Naoto without another word. “It’s comfortable. Plus, I used to spend the summers sleeping down there when it got too hot in here.” 

He continues to speak but Naoto finds himself shaking his head, cutting the man off with his next few words: “Why don’t you sleep in here?” 

Kanji freezes, his back to Naoto before spinning back to face him. “Wh-What?” he squeaks out, his face no doubt as red as Naoto’s. 

The implication of his words wasn’t lost on Naoto. “N-Not in the same bed, of course,” he stammers, “but I-I- I’d hate for you to have to sleep elsewhere on account of my poor planning.” 

“I don’t mind!” 

Naoto reaches up to fix his bangs. “I’m sure we could fashion a bed for me,” he goes on, searching the room. “I’ve become accustomed to sleeping on the floor.” 

“Uh,” Kanji starts, eyes flickering over Naoto’s frame quickly. “No, Ma would give me an earful if I didn’t let ya have the bed.” He pauses to shake his head once more, black locks moving rapidly with the movement. “I’ve got a mat downstairs. I’ll grab it.” 

He starts to step out of the room, only to pause, turning back to Naoto with a hand on the back of his neck. “Uh, do the clothes fit well?” 

Naoto nods his head, short but content as he sticks out one leg, pointing to the rolled up ends. “I am nothing if not resourceful.” 

Kanji manages a laugh before stepping out of the bedroom, this time leaving the door open. Naoto takes a deep breath, his hands folded over his lap. He makes a move for his cellphone, scrolling through the empty chats and barren notifications that sit beside each contact he has. 

The most recent conversation, from just days ago, belongs to none other than Yu. Naoto promises to message him tomorrow. 

“Augh- alright,” Kanji sounds out from the door, Naoto looking up to find the man carrying the sleeping mat under his arm- a rather impressive feat. “I’m thinkin’ the center of the room.” 

Naoto curls his legs up onto the bed, crossing them under him before nodding his head. “It carries less risk of me tripping over you in the night.” 

A laugh rumbles out from under Kanji’s breath, shaking his head as he steps over to his closet, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a thick, knitted blanket. 

“Did your mother knit this?” Naoto asks as he sets his palms in his lap. “It’s beautiful.” 

Kanji nods his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he spreads it out over the mat. “Yeah, I’ve had it for as long as I can remember,” he murmurs, thumbing the soft fabric before promptly plopping down on it.

“You don’t have a TV in here,” Naoto notes after a beat. 

“Oh.” Kanji looks around the room with a shrug. “Nah, back when all that stuff was happenin’, I had to sneak down to the living room.” 

Naoto’s not sure why, but the idea of Kanji having to sneak past his mother at night brings a slight laugh from his chest, his eyes locking onto the other man’s. “She never suspected you?” 

“Hah,” Kanji chuckles, “she definitely knew. But she had given up on tryin’ to get me to stay in bed or even come home most nights. She just made me promise not to leave without my cell if I did.” 

The smile on his lips is both fond yet… sad. Naoto fears he’s crossed a threshold he shouldn’t have, his eyes narrowing. 

“Right,” Naoto murmurs softly, looking around the room before his gaze naturally lands back onto Kanji’s. 

“So…” the other man mumbles, “uh, I-I guess uh, do you have anythin’ you wanna do…?”

Naoto shakes his head, crossing his arms over his thighs. “I don’t suppose you have anything we can do to pass the time?” 

Kanji chuckles weakly. “I’ve never really had anyone over,” he mumbles, looking around his room, “‘cept Rise, but she doesn’t count. Plus, she usually has a reason for bein’ over.” 

“Like?” Naoto asks.

There’s a hidden, authentic smile on Kanji’s lips. “She’s asked me to help her with a few of her concert pieces,” he answers, an attempt at nonchalance, “just fixing up or adding some accessories.” 

Naoto can’t help the way his eyes widen, Kanji’s smile growing sheepish.

“C’mon, she’s only worn a few of my pieces on stage,” he goes on with a wave of his hand before starting to shift, “here, she mails me a picture every time she wears one of my pieces. I can show ya.” 

Naoto scoots off the bed without another word, coming to a seat beside Kanji as the man digs out a small photo album, thumbing the exterior. 

“That is… truly remarkable,” Naoto murmurs, looking up at Kanji’s reddening face. 

“Nah,” Kanji replies weakly, shaking his head as he opens the page, “here, this one’s from her second tour. Can ya believe she went all the way to America?” 

Naoto raises his brows. “Really?” 

“Mhmm!” Kanji replies, flipping the page, “see, with this piece…” 

Naoto can’t help his smile as he watches the man happily explain each photograph, nimble fingers brushing over the protective film to highlight the details. 

It’s a quiet evening, like so many Naoto’s grown accustomed to, but now he finds he doesn’t quite mind.

“Careful, Kanji!” Naoto cries from the shore of the riverbank, his hands held out over the ice. His eyes are wide as can be, a helping of panic in his words as he stares right at Kanji.

The man looks as carefree as ever, chuckling as his hand raises up to fix his beanie over his head. “Oh, c’mon,” the man calls from the ice, taking another step over the frozen surface, now well beyond arm's reach. “It’s as thick as Yosuke’s skull, it won’t give.” 

“Can you know that for sure?” Naoto asks, voice an octave higher as he inches closer to the shore, snow piled up against his ankles. “This seems r-rather dangerous!” 

“Loosen up,” Kanji calls back, his hand out to keep his balance. “It’s solid, I promise ya.” He looks back up to Naoto, a grin on his lips. “You’ve never been ice skatin’?” 

“No,” Naoto answers, “and I did not plan to! Especially not on ice that's not in a rink!” 

Kanji laughs, his sneakers squeaking over the ice as he makes his way over to the shore once more. There’s a half-faced grin on his lips, one brow raised as he nods to the ice. “What do you say?” 

“S-Say?” Naoto cries, shaking his head, “say what!? I’m not joining you o-on that death trap! And you really shouldn’t-” 

“C’mon, don’t ya trust me?” 

Naoto stammers, his face suddenly warm as his gaze flickers from the frozen river to Kanji’s now outstretched palm. The mere thought is enough to render his heart into a stuttering mess, his gloved hands still curled into fists by his sides. 

“I-It’s not-- this isn’t about trust!” Naoto assures, shaking his head, “but this is an unnecessary and dangerous risk.” 

“Hey, that’s what people used to say about me.”

Naoto looks up at him, unamused. Kanji’s half-smile only grows, his teeth peaking past his lips as he steps back onto the ice. 

“You won’t slip, and it won’t crack,” Kanji states, giving the ice a kick of his sneakers. “See? And if it did, which it won’t, it’s barely a few inches of water.” 

Naoto feels his stomach twist, not out of fear, but uncertainty. The ice could hold up Kanji with no cracks, it was a pale blue, and the chances of it shattering beneath them both was rather minimal, but Naoto hesitates. 

“I’ll catch you,” Kanji murmurs then, softer, his hand already outstretched. “I won’t let ya fall.” 

There’s something in his voice that makes Naoto’s stomach churn, his eyes wide and instantly locking onto Kanji’s gaze. The tip of his nose is red and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks, but the look in his eyes is somehow mesmerizing. 

Had his eyes always been so blue? 

Naoto’s gaze drops to his extended palm and it’s as if he’s been taken over by something else entirely, his gloved palm landing in Kanji’s bare hand. He stares at the man’s hand, gaze running over the few scars on his palm. 

Naoto takes his hand with a waver in his voice. “I-If I fall, I’ll make sure you never hear the end of it.” 

Kanji laughs, his hand warm as he gently guides Naoto a few steps onto the ice. “I’ll hold ya to that,” he answers, “c’mon, one foot ahead of the other. Don’t think too hard about it.”

It’s definitely not as slippery as Naoto had thought it to be, but still, he clings to Kanji’s palm tight and even reaches for his other forearm after his right leg buckles. A laugh leaves the younger man’s lips and it’s then Naoto looks up at him. 

“You’re doin’ fine,” Kanji assures, his palm wrapped tight around both of Naoto’s forearms, holding him steady. “You’re not wearin’ skates, so you won’t slide around. Trust me, I used to hang out here all the time as a kid.”

Naoto sputters, gaze locked on the ice below them. “What- why?!” 

“‘Cause no one was brave enough to follow me out here,” Kanji answers with a slight laugh. “The riverbank was quiet,” he adds. 

Naoto looks up then, suddenly aware of just how close he was to the other man. He can trace each eyelash closely, the curve of the scar on his temple…

Kanji grins. “Not so scary now, is it?” he asks, black hair blowing in the slight breeze. 

“It… is still quite terrifying,” Naoto assures with a quick glance down to the ice below his boots. “This could give at the slightest force of pressure.” 

Kanji murmurs out a breathy laugh, Naoto’s gaze back on his. “You got trust issues or somethin’?”

“No,” Naoto answers, a lie. “But it’s my very nature to be aware and cautious of the world around me.” 

Another laugh leaves the man’s lips as he looks down at him, giving him a decently sized smile. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s what makes you such a good detective, huh?” 

Naoto isn’t quite sure why his face grows warm but it does, the man shaking his head as he finally lets go of Kanji’s forearm to brush his bangs out of his face. “Some would say that,” he answers, “others would say it’s my predisposition to analyze virtually everything.”

Kanji shakes his head. “Stop tryna use big words to confuse me,” he grumbles, albeit the smile on his lips doesn’t fade.

Naoto finds himself naturally laughing alongside him.  

The heavy, bitter wind blows Naoto’s dark locks around as he clings rather tightly to the seat below him, his longer hair somehow managing to be taken with the wind despite his helmet. His eyes are pretty much screwed tight but Naoto finds the world around him still rather frigid and miserable.

Yet, he’s nearly ecstatic. The sound of the motorbike engine below him is a comfort, the quiet town around him just another reminder of his old life- yet Naoto doesn’t mind.

Not as his stomach churns with a feeling he can’t quite name nor as his heart stutters with each passing beat. 

He’s… happy. Yet there’s a sadness to that feeling as well, to the understanding that in just a few hours, this would be all over. Naoto would be on a train back to the big city and he’ll be back in his dingy, small apartment with leaky faucets by the evening.

It’s a horrible feeling that Naoto shoves down in favor of cracking his eyes open, on looking at the back of the man who sits only a few inches away. He can’t quite make out Kanji’s face, other than what he can see from the tiny mirror and through his helmet, but Naoto’s gaze is drawn to the way the man’s dark, highlighted hair blows in the wind from beneath the plastic.

No doubt soft to the touch, there’s a few snowflakes that cling to the strands for a few seconds before being swept away. 

Naoto lets himself be taken by thought for a few, brief seconds, before his whole frame is jolted by some unforeseen, uneven bump in the road. A yelp leaves his lips and before he knows it, he’s lurching forward.

It takes a moment for his mind to register what he’d just done, but by the time he does, it’s too late. 

Both of his arms are now wrapped around Kanji’s waist rather tight, his face hidden in the back of his jacket. Naoto stills, his heart in his throat as he awaits any reaction from Kanji. 

“Sorry!”  Kanji calls from ahead, still going as fast as ever, “didn’t see that branch!” 

Naoto blinks once, and then again, before screwing his eyes shut. He manages to scoot closer to the man, chalking up his position to be due to fear. 

His arms stay wrapped tight around Kanji rather tight. Naoto finds himself smiling into the hold. 

The gentle tune that sounds out in the train station does nothing more than send Naoto’s heart to his stomach. His hands are clasped rather tight around his one bag, his eyes locked on the screen that hangs above. 

Three minutes. And then all of this would be a blur. 

“I doubt I need to ask,” Kanji sounds out from beside him, both of his hands in the pockets of his jacket, “but you made sure to pack everythin’, right?” 

Naoto gives him a stiff nod, gathering his nerves before looking over and up at him. “Yes,” he assures quietly, “it wasn’t much to begin with, but it all fits.” He angles his backpack to the man, Kanji’s brows furrowing. 

“Hey, you didn’t zip your bag up,” Kanji points out, closing the distance to Naoto’s back, “turn around, I gotcha.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Naoto murmurs, thankful to not have to face the man, even for just a moment. He stares up at the screen and watches as the timer goes from three to two.

Two minutes. Naoto’s throat feels tighter.

“There,” Kanji calls, gently patting his backpack. “You gotta be more careful.”

He was one to talk. Naoto turns to face him and finds himself, feeling small, his arms crossing over his stomach.

“Uh, well,” Kanji mumbles, looking to the train, hand on the back of his neck. “You’ve only got a minute and a half left.” 

Naoto nods his head, looking over as well. “I know,” he whispers, not entirely sure why. 

“I-If you’re ever in Inaba again,” Kanji goes on, voice just as quiet, “you know where I’ll be.” 

There’s another chime. Naoto looks back over to Kanji, tracing his face with his fast shifting eyes and holding his frame tighter. 

“I do,” Naoto murmurs, “I-I’ll make sure to visit sometime soon. I promise.” 

It’s a jumbled mess of words and his anxiety only makes him feel more unsure, but judging by Kanji’s small, pained smile, it’s not the wrong thing to say. 

“Man, I’ll keep you to that promise,” Kanji replies, going as far as to give him a weak but genuine thumbs up. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?” 

Naoto nods once, swallowing the weight in his throat. “I won’t,” he assures, a final chime echoing in the space around them. “I-I’ll make sure to reach out. I promise to be better.” 

Rambling. The timer is down to one and a few stragglers cross onto the platform and disappear into the train.

Kanji smiles at first, his palm hiding back into his jacket. “You’re gonna miss your train, man.”

Naoto wants to, truly, but there’s a weight on his chest and an ache in his eyes that forces him to take a step away. 

“I’ll see you soon, Kanji,” Naoto murmurs, clearing his throat. “Try not to get into too much trouble.” 

Kanji raises his hand with a look in his eyes that only serves to render Naoto’s palms into a sweaty, shaky mess.

“No promises,” he calls back. 

With a shaky wave and an attempt at a smile, Naoto climbs into the train, waiting for Kanji to give him one last wave as well. His trembling legs carry him to the seat closest to the window, already desperate for one last glance as the doors shut. 

Kanji waves both palms with that same half smile. Naoto can’t help the small, shaky wave he shoots right back. 

There’s a final chime and it’s then the train starts to move, Naoto staring out the window until Kanji was no longer in view. He continues to stare out the window, watching as the town grows smaller and as the snow covered trees fill up every inch of space. 

Naoto screws his eyes shut as he sits back into his chair, blindly reaching for his backpack, hoping to at least grab some earphones for the ride- anything to distract him from his confused heart and jumbled thoughts. 

Why did this hurt so much?

There’s an ache that only spreads before Naoto’s brows furrow, eyes opening as he pulls his palm back from the backpack. 

Just barely smaller than the flat of his palm lies none other than a crocheted object, a deep purple octopus with eight tentacles to match. There’s a pair of bright eyes sewed into the crocheted creature and a small keychain sticking out from the top of his head. 

Naoto stares with a hanging jaw. 

“A favorite animal… well, I assume yours would be dogs. So, I’ll be a little more unique. Octopus.”

“C’mon, you’re making me look lame!” 

A fond recollection of a conversation had over steak skewers only yesterday. Naoto stares at the keychain and hopes his heart isn’t about to actually give out. 

Damn it. 

Naoto clips the keychain to his backpack instantly. He finds himself staring at the way it gently shifts with the train, hand stitched eyes staring back.

He finds he enjoys the sight much more than the scenery outside.

Chapter Text

Kanji sits with his legs crossed, hands over the small table and eyes locked on the few dozen or so of his students around him. They make a perfect circle, legs crossed and hands working with the kid-safe crochet needles they all hold.

Custom ones that Kanji had sought out after seeing just how dedicated the children were to the craft.

“C’mon, it’s just one more row,” Kanji calls, looking over at the children, “you all asked for a penguin, you’re gonna make one.”

“But Kanji-San, this is hard!” one of the children cry, earning a shake of his head.

“Yeah, well so is life,” he answers, leaning over to look at his work, “at least you’ll have a penguin to get you through it.” His eyes narrow, looking over the child’s work for a bite. “See, you got it, just another five or so single stitches.”

The child whines but obeys, Kanjis laughing under his breath as he looks over the rest of the small stuffed animals the children are mid-crocheting. It’s his favorite time of the week, one he wouldn’t trade for anything else.

“C’mon, we got fifteen more minutes before the parents come back!” he adds, sitting upright, “finish strong!”

“Finish strong!” Nanako cheers then, sending Kanji a smile he easily shoots back.

With a renewed passion, the children work carefully, giggling and chatting with Kanji and amongst themselves. Their smiles at the blossoming creations only fuels his own happiness and pure excitement, moving along with his own penguin keychain.

Kanji casts a quick glance around the shop, thankful his mother had cleaned up the majority of it. Oftentimes, she’d also linger to keep an eye on the children and watch Kanji, snapping a few secretive photographs to show him later.

At first, he hated them. But the way his mother smiled and just how often she shared the photographs with neighbors and friends… well, he’s glad they exist.

The rest of the class goes without much fanfare, Kanji seeing to every child being picked up by the correct corresponding parent. It’s the one part of the classes he doesn’t quite enjoy, not out of sadness of seeing his students leave, but from having to see the sideways glances some of the adults send his way.

Sure, Kanji was… more comfortable in his hobbies and self, but that didn’t mean the awkward greetings weren’t just that.

Kanji stood out, both in his own classes and in his hometown. He probably always would and he knows his reputation may never cease, but at least he had grown out of arguing with everyone.

Save for Dojima. Kanji’s not sure what to describe their relation as, but the man went from being someone he detested to someone he would greet whenever he saw him.

Now, Kanji preferred keeping to himself and those who really knew him, at least those who were still around.

Kanji stands in the frigid winter air for another beat, waiting until the last of his students have turned the corner down the street before his attention is caught by none other than a low whistle.

“Look at you!” a voice calls to his right, earning a near-invisible jolt from Kanji’s frame as he spins to face none other than his very best friend.

“Rise!” he cries, eyes wide and locked on none other than the woman only a few feet away. She’s in a soft blue peacoat, scarf wrapped around her neck and earmuffs over her wavy brown hair. “How- what!? When did you-- How long have ya been standin’ there?!” he stammers, his jaw hanging.

She giggles, closing the distance without another beat of hesitation, her arms out and wrapping around Kanji’s waist tight. It takes a minute to get over his fluster, Kanji still stammering before wrapping one arm around her just as tight, squeezing her tight beneath the sole street lamp.

“Ah,” Rise sighs into his hold, “I missed you, you big softie.”

Kanji rolls his eyes, letting her pull away from him as he smiles down at her, arms crossed over his robe as he shakes his head. “I told you to start tellin’ me when you’d be in town!” he cries, hands uncrossing as he drops his arms to his sides. “What are ya doin’ here?!”

“Visiting,” Rise answers easily enough, grinning up at him, “now come on, I’m starved. I want Aiya’s!” Her palms wrap around Kanji’s arm, her small frame somehow managing to drag him a few steps.

“Wait! Wait- lemme get dressed!” Kanji cries.

Aiya’s is rather delicious, as it always is, but Kanji’s more focused on the ramblings from the woman across from him. Well, they’re not really ramblings considering Kanji hangs onto every word and wants to hear about her last month and a half of chaos.

He doesn’t know how she does it. Traveling internationally, hour long shows, signings, commercials–– she’s a celebrity and Kanji was her best friend.

It didn’t quite make a lot of sense but he’s more thankful for her presence than he can really word.

“And,” Rise goes on, clearing her throat before taking in a decent sip of her broth. “They’re trying to schedule me on a tour in America. I’ll be gone for months at that rate!”

Kanji blinks. “Months?”

Rise nods. “At least four,” she murmurs, “which wouldn’t be too bad except then I’d be without my number one wardrobe stylist.”

He doesn’t look over, opting to roll his eyes. “I’m not your wardrobe stylist,” he mutters, taking a few noodles into his mouth. “Imagine the money you’d make from all that.”

Rise sighs. “I know,” she mumbles, “but it’d be my longest time outside of Japan. I’d get lonely.”

Kanji couldn’t argue with that thought. He’d never left Inaba outside of a few trips to Okina City, and even then those were nothing more than a day trip.

Months outside of his city, much less the country… Kanji nearly shivers.

“Or,” Rise starts then, grinning, “you could come with me!”

“Come– what!?” Kanji cries, stuttering for a beat, “uh, I don’t know if you hit your head––”

“It’d be so much fun!” Rise cuts in, pouting, “we could see the whole country together, it’d be an extended vacation!”

“No,” Kanji replies, shaking his head. “I would be miserable. And I couldn’t leave Ma for that long. She’d try carryin’ all the fabrics.”

Rise pouts, pushing around her the food in her bowl with a rather dramatic sigh. “You can’t say I didn’t try,” she mumbles. Her gaze slowly lifts back to Kanji, her head tilting as she sets her chin in her palm. “Enough about me,” she mumbles, “how have you been?”

Kanji shrugs a shoulder. “Same old,” he answers, eyes locked on his bowl, “been helpin’ Ma around the shop. And the kid's classes are goin’ fine.”

“Your kids look so happy,” Rise chimes, grinning wide.

“They’re not my kids,” Kanji grumbles, unable to meet her gaze as his ears grow red. “Oh. And Naoto visited.”

There’s a distinct silence, one that stretches for too long, long enough that Kanji looks up from his meal. His face is already hot.

Rise stares with her mouth agape, eyes wide and entire figure frozen in place.

Kanji groans. “Ri–”

“He what!?” Rise cries, only for Kanji to shush her rather abruptly, shaking his hand at her.

“Quiet!” he whisper-shouts, looking around the small shop before continuing. “C’mon, shush- it ain’t a big deal––”

“He just- he just showed up!?” Rise goes on, unhindered by Kanji’s embarrassment. “Why!? What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t know, to visit,” Kanji answers meekly, his face no doubt bright red. “I-I didn’t ask a lot of questions… just- we hung out.”

“How!? Where!?” Rise asks, nearly standing at this point.

Kanji recounts the weekend spent with his friend slowly and carefully, his gaze focused on anything but Rise. He makes sure he doesn’t smile too much and keeps the more… embarrassing details out of his story, but by the time he’s done, Rise only looks more flabbergasted.

“He- He–– you…?!”

Kanji groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Rise!” he groans.

“I-I don’t know how you expect me to-to be normal about this!” she cries out in a whisper, “the guy didn’t even speak to you for a year and a half and now––” she pauses, a frown overcoming her features as she narrows her eyes. “Did– Did he even apologize?”

Ah.

Just what Kanji was afraid of.

“Uh, for what?” he asks, which in hindsight is probably the worst thing he could say considering the way Rise’s eyes darken.

“So, he didn’t,” Rise mutters, sitting forward and folding her arms over the table. “Oh, I knew you wouldn’t say anything!”

Kanji sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his stomach. “It’s not that simple, Rise, I can’t just–”

“You should’ve shut the door in his face until he got on his knees and groveled!” Rise cuts in, her grip on her forearms tightening. “He can’t just show up after so long and act like everything’s fine!”

“Everything was fine!” Kanji replies, reaching up to push his black locks back. “I just- I wasn’t gonna start a fight with him after so long!”

“You should’ve!”

“Rise, come on––”

“No, Kanji!” Rise snaps, now glaring at him. “You confessed your love to him a-and he freaking ignored you for nearly two years after that!”

And there it was. The cause of most of Kanji’s grief, of his fears, and the heaviest hanging pain that clung to his every breath.

It was something Kanji had hoped to ignore, to forget about, and something that he’d hoped Naoto would never let go of.

Kanji had done exactly that. Perched up high above the town, only inches away from Naoto, the words had left his lips, his heart beating fast and sweat clinging to his brow. He’d murmured his confession into the warm air and held onto his knees rather tight as fireworks exploded over them both.

Naoto had smiled. He had blushed and murmured the very same secret right back: “I like you too, Kanji.”

And then he disappeared.

Except he wasn’t really gone because he had been seen with anyone but Kanji.

“Sorry,” Rise murmurs then, no doubt sensing the change in Kanji’s overall demeanor. “I-I shouldn’t have brought it up like that.”

Kanji shrugs his shoulders, letting out a long breath. “You’re just tellin’ it how it is.” He shoves another spoonful of broth into his mouth.

The pair finish their food and silence and Kanji makes sure to walk Rise to her home, coming to a stop ahead of the store with his hands in the pockets of his jackets. Rise looks up at him with a look that makes his stomach churn.

“Hey,” she murmurs, going as far as to grab a hold of his arm with a gentle grip. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Kanji nods his head. As if he wouldn’t cancel virtually everything to hang out with her. Rise’s smile is instant.

“I’ll be in town for a week,” she goes on, smiling up at him. “Let’s go to Okina. I want to do some shopping. And I know you haven’t been to your favorite yarn shop in a while.”

The edge of his lip twitches upwards, eyes locked on hers as he nods his head. “I guess I can make time.”

Rise rolls her eyes, reaching up to gently pat the side of his face and earning a shove of her shoulder from the younger man, her frame erupting into giggles.

“Two o’clock?” she asks, smiling up at him.

“Two o’clock,” he answers with a small nod. “I’ll see ya, get some rest.”

Rise shoots him another smile before disappearing into her home, pausing to send him one last wave and grin.

Kanji waits outside for another beat before making his way back home.

Kanji wanders beside Rise closely, his eyes scanning each and every shelf of the store, scanning the various t-shirts and high-end bags. He’s incredibly out of place, dressed in clothes he’d made for himself while the price tags on each item somehow sit above his monthly pay.

“Kanji!” Rise calls from a few steps away, earning his gaze instantly. “Should I do eggshell or off white?”

Two purses sit in her palms, each embroidered with gold yellow flowers into leather. Kanji blinks twice before meeting her gaze.

“The right one.”

“Egg shell?” she asks, raising her left hand.

“Brings out your hair,” Kanji answers, watching as Rise turns to shove the purse back onto the shelf.

“Egg shell it is.”

He smiles at the sound of her giggles as he looks back around the shop. He watches as she picks out a few more purses and other pieces, shoving them all into the bags that Kanji always ended up carrying.

He’s not even sure how they ended up in his hands but they did. He finds he doesn’t mind that much, not as she buys him a rather tasty smoothie, holding the drink for him until they find an empty table at the food court.

“Yeesh,” Rise sighs out, fixing her sunglasses over her nose, an attempt at hiding her identity when out in public. “There’s no one out here today.”

“It’s a Wednesday,” Kanji offers, shrugging a shoulder.

“Oh right,” Rise murmurs, pulling out a chair for Kanji to sit. “I’m not complaining. At least there’s no fans.”

Kanji snorts as he takes a seat, his hands immediately reaching for his smoothie. He takes a decent sip, sighing as Rise does the same from her own drink.

“Y’know,” she starts, sitting back in her seat, “the only reason I’m allowed to stay in Inaba without security is because of you.”

He raises a brow but doesn’t say anything as Rise continues.

“What? You’re a big beefy guy,” she points out with a shrug, “no need for scary security when I have you.”

“So I’m nothin’ but your guard dog,” Kanji replies, staring right into her eyes.

“Ah! Don’t forget my bag holder too.”

“Funny.”

Rise snickers, sitting upright in her seat as she crosses one leg over the other. “You know I’m joking, stop with the dramatics,” she teases.

He knows the truth, even if he himself didn’t believe it some days. Rise truly, and utterly, cared for him. She enjoyed his presence, laughed at his jokes, and even learned to crochet alongside him.

Rise was his best friend. And more surprisingly, Kanji was her best friend.

“So,” Rise starts, setting her elbow down onto the table before setting her chin down into her palm. “I guess we should talk, huh?”

Kanji digs his fingers into his plastic cup.

“He really didn’t bring things up?” Rise asks, her voice significantly softer, kinder.

Kanji shakes his head.

“Did he even explain why he was in town?”

There’s a beat. Kanji sighs as he holds his drink tight. “Not really,” he mumbles, “he had a job nearby and decided to stop by. I didn’t really ask for more than that.”

Rise’s frown is distinctive. “Why not?”

“Figured he’d mention things if he wanted to,” Kanji explains, his leg bouncing beneath the table. “I didn’t wanna ask anything that would scare him off. It's clear now he wasn't ready the first time to talk about... things."

Rise twitches and Kanji can tell by the curl of her lip, she was ready to say something that probably would’ve hurt someone’s feelings.

“I guess that makes sense,” she offers instead, “well, how do you feel about it all?”

A question Kanji’s been mulling over for the last few weeks. Elated, ecstatic… depressed and even angry.

He wasn’t even sure where to begin. Sure, the man he cared for, the man he’d bared his soul had returned, but Kanji couldn’t just forget the fact the man had pretty much run away from him after confirming his feelings were reciprocated.

Kanji doesn’t really know where he’s emotionally at right now.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, “happy I got to see him. Sad he left. Angry as hell that he didn’t answer me for a year and a half.”

Rise nods her head slowly, her fingers tapping the edge of her jaw. “I can’t blame you,” she murmurs, “you’re nicer than me. I would’ve slammed the door in his face.”

Kanji manages a weak attempt at a laugh. “Nice,” he repeats.

There’s a brief pause, Rise’s eyes locked on his as Kanji distracts himself with a sip of his smoothie.

“Well,” he mumbles, “he’s been textin’ me since.”

Rise’s eyes widen rather dramatically. “What- really?!”

A flush of warmth spreads over Kanji’s cheeks as he nods his head once, his hands instinctively itching for his cellphone.

“Not- Not like a crazy amount,” he mumbles, “but he checks in every few days. Asks me how things are.”

“Oh,” Rise hums, her brows furrowed and confusion transparent, “what- so he just doesn’t think it’s worth mentioning that year and a half?”

“I-I don’t know!” Kanji cries, “I-I don’t know what to think! This is all so- so confusin’!”

There’s another groan before Kanji sinks deeper into his chair, bringing the straw of his smoothie up to his lips and taking a rather obnoxious sip.

Rise doesn’t say anything for another beat, her eyes trained on him from behind her sunglasses. She raises her hands up to push back her long hair behind her shoulders, bracelets jingling with the movement.

“Alright, I know what you need,” she starts, clearing her throat before pulling out from underneath the table, coming to a stand. “You need a touch up.”

Kanji’s brows furrow. “A what-up?”

“A touch up,” Rise repeats with a firm nod, waving at Kanji to come to a stand as well. “Your hair. It needs to be touched up, come on, slow poke!”

Kanji scrambles to a stand, grabbing all the bags. “Hey- wait!”

Kanji sits on the edge of the bathtub in his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be found as Rise stands ahead of him. He forgets just how short she really is until moments like these, where his own back aches from having to learn forward. Her gloved hands work through his hair, the smell of bleach strong enough to nearly burn his eyes.

There’s aluminum foil in his hair and his arms are crossed over his stomach, eyes locked onto the back of the bathroom door.

“See,” Rise murmurs, more focused on her work as she parts his hair with the brush, “this is looking better already.”

“Are you tellin’ me I looked lazy when Naoto visited?” he grumbles in response.

“No,” Rise replies with a laugh, “but this is going to elevate your look, trust me.”

Kanji furrows his brows. “Don’t do anything too dramatic,” he replies, fixing his seat on the edge of the tub, “and hurry up. My butt is numb.”

Rise snorts, working through his hair gently, humming a tune Kanji recognizes to be one of her more recent hit songs. “You’re such a baby,” she answers, tilting his chin with the back of her palm. “One more section and you’re done. Then it’s my turn.”

“What?!” Kanji asks, sitting back and out of her reach, his eyes wide. “You want me- your turn!?”

“Hey- get back here!” she cries, pulling him back by his chin, “dummy, you’ll mess up the section.”

Kanji complies, his brows still furrowed as he stares up at the underside of her jaw. “What the hell do you mean you want me dyein’ your hair?”

“You figured it out,” Rise snorts, fixing the last portion of his hair, “relax, you can’t mess it up. And if you do, well, you can take it up with Inoue.”

“What!?”

Rise chuckles softly, leaning away from his hair, her gaze on her own gloves as she slides out of the rubber. She sets them down into the trash before turning her side to Kanji, the man watching her closely.

“I thought it’d be fun,” she murmurs, much softer as she washes her hands in the sink, “I’ve been feeling more and more like Risette and not like… me. I think a good semi-permanent hair change will help.”

The relatively hidden, raw, side of Rise was a rare sight. Kanji makes sure to sit up.

“Alright,” he sighs out, feigning dramatics as she looks over with a small smile. “But I’m not usin’ scissors.”

“Deal!” Rise grins, spinning back to face him with the tray of bleach. “I’ll section my hair off for you!”

Kanji can’t help the smile he shoots her back.

Kanji lays in his bed with Rise only a few inches away, her spine against his arm as she scrolls her phone. Her hair, now with blonde highlights at the very front, is splayed over his pillow and his side.

Anyone else and Kanji would think this to be some form of romance. But this is Rise and he’s Kanji and he knows she’s the best thing to happen to him in a while.

“Do you snore?” Rise asks, not turning back to the man.

“Uh, no,” Kanji answers, looking over from his knitting project. “If I did, you wouldn’t spend the night so damn often.”

She turns her head lazily. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” Kanji responds with a roll of his eyes, not looking over as she turns onto her side to face him, her head against the pillow now.

Her hand stretches out and it’s then he jolts an inch in the air, eyes wide and face growing warm as she grabs a hold to his bare bicep, pushing away his short sleeve.

“Hey-”

“Damn, have you been working out?” she asks, looking up at him innocently. “I swear, everytime I see you, you’re bigger.”

“I- what!?” Kanji stammers, putting his knitting down against his chest as he shoves her hand off of him. “What the hell- stop bein’ so weird!”

“Weird?!” Rise cries, pouting, “that was a compliment!”

He rolls his eyes, sending her a look before resuming his knitting. “I have not been working’ out,” he grumbles, “your bein’ dramatic.”

“No more late night bike rides?” Rise asks, pouting.

“Those don’t count.”

Her laugh is cut off by the chiming ring of his phone, Kanji sitting up rather suddenly with wide eyes. The only other person who ever called him, other than Rise, was Yu, and even then those calls were scheduled.

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were so pop-”

Kanji’s eyes shoot wide open and his heart promptly sinks straight into his stomach. His heart, or at least what he thinks is left of it, nearly bursts at the name that pops up over the screen.

“I-It’s N-Naoto.”

“What!?” Rise cries, scrambling to a seat beside him.

Kanji pulls away, already standing and staring down at his phone. “Shit- shit, alright, uh- I-I haven’t called him––”

“Answer!” Rise snaps and it’s then Kanji’s thrust into action, raising his cellphone to his ear and answering in a stammer.

“H-Hello?” he greets, his throat dry and tongue heavy.

“K-Kanji, hello,” Naoto responds, voice soft and quiet, like it tended to be when speaking with Kanji of all people. “I um, is now a good time?”

Kanji spins to face Rise, the woman waving him closer before mouthing the following word: Speaker!

He stammers but manages to get the phone lowered and volume high, clearing his throat as starts to pace. “Y-Yeah, what’s up?”

There’s a brief pause, nothing but silence permeating through the room. The only noise Kanji can make out, is none other than the drowning beat of his heart.

“Well, I, erm, I wanted to apologize,” Naoto starts quietly, “I… I had intentions to visit this week but this case I’ve been assigned to, it just- it won’t allow me any time off this week.”

Kanji’s brows furrow and his confusion only seems to draw out the silence, blinking once before getting his mouth to work once more.

“Oh,” he mumbles, “uh,that’s– I-I get it. It ain’t that big a deal. Y-You’re busy.”

He’s not sure what else to say, turning to Rise with big eyes. Her gaze is narrowed and locked on the phone in his palm, the silence hanging between them for another moment.

“I… I wanted to visit. For your birthday.”

Kanji blinks.

Right.

That was in two days. He’d completely forgotten.

“Oh.”

Kanji doesn’t quite know what to say. Sure, Kanji’s birthday had never been a big affair, save for after the murders had been solved and the group had last been together. Yu had made sure he had no idea what was happening until he’d walked into the food court and been greeted by balloons and cake.

They’d spent the day there before making their way back to the inn for the night and playing card games until they’d fallen asleep.

It was the first birthday party Kanji had ever had.

“I-I am sorry. Truly,” Naoto mumbles, pulling Kanji out of his thoughts entirely. “I-I had intended to be in Inaba. I don’t want you to believe I’d forgotten.”

Kanji shakes his head, raising his palm to push back his freshly dyed locks. “Nah, nah, i-it’s–– it’s fine. I get it. I-I appreciate the, er, sentiment.”

Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe the state of the conversation. Miserable trails pretty close.

“Well,” Naoto starts after another moment of heavy silence, “I will be wishing you a happy birthday the day of. A-And um, I will let you know the next time I’m in Inaba. Maybe we can… we can meet again.”

“Y-Yeah, whatever works,” Kanji replies instantly, an ounce of something warm igniting in his stomach as he nods. “That sounds fun.”

“Of course,” Naoto murmurs right back.

They say their goodbyes and Kanji stares at his phone for another prolonged moment. His mind is everywhere but the present, racing between the conversation just had and the past altogether.

“Kanji?”

He jolts, eyes wide as they lock right onto Rise, seemingly forgetting her existence for a moment. Her concern is as plain as day, her palm outstretched but not quite touching the other man.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, unsure.

Kanji nods his head, taking a moment to shove his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie as he clears his throat. “Y-Yeah, yeah,” he assures, “I just… he remembered.”

Rise’s frown only deepens.

“Wow,” Kanji whispers, clearing his throat. “I-I’m shaking. Am I supposed to be shakin’? Shit, I-I’m being weird again, a-aren’t I?”

“C’mere,” Rise murmurs, standing upright and pulling him back over to her front. Her arms wrap around him and Kanji stands stock still without another word.

Normally, he’d push her away and cite the fact he wasn’t some baby, but right now Kanji’s head is anywhere but the present and her arms are more grounding than anything else could be.

“You’re fine,” she mumbles into his chest, rubbing his back. “Not weird.”

Rise holds him tight. Kanji finds comfort in her hold once again.

Kanji doesn’t even know how to describe the burning in his chest. On one hand, he really wants to disappear into his room and not leave until someone breaks down his door. On the other hand, his mother relied on him for breakfast.

He’d rather chew off his own arm then risk his mother going without a meal.

Now, Kanji has to maneuver his way out of his bed and, more challenging, out from underneath Rise. Her arm is over his stomach and her snores drill into his shoulder, but Kanji really wouldn’t have it any other way.

She’s his best friend. Sure, he’ll argue her snores are probably louder and much more concentrated than he thought possible, but this is Rise.

Kanji slinks out from under her arm and pauses, waiting for any sign of her waking up. He’s met with nothing, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he paces past her and out of the bedroom.

His routine is the same. He sets the kettle, starts on breakfast, and tries to feel some semblance of awake before disappearing into the bathroom.

It takes a bit for his mother to get out of bed, finally meeting him right as he sets the table for three.

“Oh,” she murmurs out, pausing to stand beside him, her palm over his spine. “Look at your hair!”

Right. Kanji had nearly forgotten. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbles, looking down at her as his other palm raises to push back his locks. “I haven’t showered yet. Do ya like it?”

“Of course,” she replies with a soft laugh, tugging him down by his sleeve. Kanji complies easily, her palm running through his highlighted locks with a hum.

“Have I ever told you you’ve grown into a handsome man?” she asks, instantly earning a groan from Kanji.

“Ma,” he whines, pulling away from her but not stepping away, “don’t start with this.”

“What?” she asks innocently, her hand still on his arm. “My baby boy will be two decades old tomorrow! You don’t know what that does to a mother.”

His face feels warm but Kanji doesn’t pull away as she wraps her arms around him.

“Oh how lucky I am,” she whispers, rubbing his side. “I’ve been blessed with such a good son.”

“Ma,” Kanji groans, albeit there’s no real fight in his words nor his posture, not as he wraps his arm around her and gently brushes her hair back. “You’re embarrassin’ me.”

“In front of who?” she asks with a slight chuckle, “it’s just you and I.” She pulls away after giving him another squeeze, her palm still on his side as she meets his gaze. “I told you, you’re free this weekend starting today.”

“I-I ain’t letting you run the shop alone,” he grumbles with a shake of his head. “I canceled my class tomorrow but I won’t let ya work alone.”

“Kanji,” she sighs, shaking her head right back, her brows furrowing. “You may help me in the store, but you live your own life.” She reaches up, fixing the hem of his t-shirt. “I never intended this shop to be inherited- for this role.”

The thought of living anywhere else, of doing anything else is enough to make Kanji’s stomach flip. He’s lived in this home his whole life, surrounded by fabrics and crochet needles and sewing machines-

“I like it here,” Kanji replies with a stiff nod, stepping away to the now beeping rice cooker. “I’m happy with my life, Ma. And I’m happy here with you.”

She says nothing else, which Kanji appreciates, turning back with a bowl of rice just for her. He moves quicker, pulling out her cushion so that she can sit before leaning forward.

His mother isn’t that old quite yet, her reflexes fast as she reaches for his chin, grabbing his face and pulling him closer before promptly placing a kiss right over his cheek. Kanji’s whole face grows warm rather quickly, a groan leaving his lips as he screws his eyes shut and leans back.

He makes sure to give her two seconds first.

“Ma!” he whines, pulling away and sending her giggling frame a glare, “n-not when Rise’s here!”

“Oh hush,” she teases, fixing her seat, “she can get a kiss too.”

“Not the point,” Kanji grumbles, giving his mother a pat on the head before making his way back to the kitchen, “I’ll go wake her up. You can start.”

With that, Kanji makes his way back upstairs, stepping back into his bedroom with furrowed brows. He flips the light on, Rise already curling up smaller.

Kanji’s sigh is instant. “Rise,” he calls, gently shaking her frame, “get up. I made breakfast.”

She groans before hiding her face under his pillow. Kanji shakes her shoulder harder.

“Listen, I’m doin’ this for your sake,” he repeats, shaking her shoulder once more, “last time I had breakfast without you, you nearly cried.”

Rise groans again, finally giving in as she flips onto her back to face him. Her palms dig into her eyes, legs stretching out.

“You could learn a thing or two about waking up a lady,” she grumbles out, pausing to yawn, long hair sprawled out over the pillow. Her palms fold over her stomach, eyes glaring up at him.

“I made ya breakfast,” Kanji replies with a roll of his eyes. “C’mon, don’t make Ma wait.”

She sighs, sitting up on her elbows and looking around his room. Her fingers reach up to fix her, or rather his t-shirt, over her chest, her eyes landing on him.

“Man, you snore,” she whines.

With that, Kanji leans down and grabs his stuffed penguin, a stuffed animal that had fallen out of the bed, and promptly throws it right at her face. She lets out a cry but Kanji’s already halfway out of the room.

“Get up!” he calls from the hall before making his way back downstairs.

Kanji leads his bike down the street with a happy smile, Rise held onto his back rather tight. He can tell that she trusts his driving, her head to the side as she stares at the passing scenery. It’s a beautiful albeit cold day, and Kanji’s sure that his nose is going to be red by the end of the ride, but he’s not one to say no to Rise after she’d gone through so much to visit him.

It was obvious now. Rise had come to see him for his birthday.

The thought is enough to make his chest feel warm, his eyes narrowing as he turns back down another winding street. He should’ve expected his, considering Rise had done the same thing last year, but it still strikes Kanji as… weird.

Well, not weird, but nice.

With a few more twists and turns, Kanji’s bike comes to a stop in a parking lot, turning off his bike and coming to a stand. Rise’s already using his arm to climb off, her pink helmet sliding off her head with an easy unclasp, a grin on her lips.

“The beach!” she cries out, frigid wind pushing her hair around as she comes to a stand. “Wow! It’s freezing!”

Kanji makes sure to wear his leather jacket correctly, citing a promise he made to his mother, his fingerless gloves keeping his palms warm. He stands beside Rise, looking out at the empty beach and choppy waters with a furrow of his brows.

At least his beanie was keeping his ears warm.

“Man,” he starts, raising a hand to his brow as he looks out, “the weather’s crazy!”

Rise says nothing, her palms in the pocket of her puffer jacket as she makes her way down to the sand, Kanji close behind. She comes to a stop beside some chairs that were definitely left behind, her palms sliding out from her jacket slowly.

Kanji barely makes out her next few words over the racing wind.

“I want to swim.”

He blinks hard, turning to face her with wide eyes.  “What?!” he yells over the wind, eyes only widening as Rise steps forward, her fingers already unbuttoning her pea coat. “Wait- Rise- what are you--?!”

She shoots him a grin before dropping her jacket onto the chair, undoing her high ponytail next, her hat on the chair and followed by her mittens before Kanji’s grabbing a hold of her wrist.

“You can’t go in there- it’s freezin’!” he cries, shaking his head, “you’ll get frostbite. O-or worse! You’ll drown!”

“Oh, stop being a wuss,” Rise replies, reaching up to tug his beanie off his head, “c’mon, you’ll keep me safe. And you don’t have to take everything off.”

“What!?” Kanji cries. “I-I ain’t going in there!”

“Fine!” Rise slips out of his grip, and then her sweater, her figure in only a tank as she moves to her belt.

“Are you nuts?!” Kanji yells, looking her up and down, his jaw hanging.

“Maybe,” Rise answers with a shrug, “but I don’t let anyone tell me what I can’t do.” She shoots him a wink, her hair blowing in the frigid wind. “Are you joining me, or what?”

Well.

Kanji might be a little nuts too.

“Screw it,” he whispers before ripping his gloves right off his hands, moving to his jacket next. He spares a glance over to Rise, his cheeks already bright red as she smiles up at him.

It’s a smile Kanji’s seen before but still isn’t used to. One that holds nothing but love and care for him.

He smiles right back and shivers as the cold air brushes against his bare stomach.

Kanji curls up under the kotatsu with a content smile, an unopened bottle of sake in the center of the table and a few opened chip bags scattered across. He’s still full from the late dinner he’d had with Rise and his mother, the latter of the two tucked into bed and fast asleep at Kanji’s insistence.

He’d had to nearly beg her, hands holding her shoulders as he guided her up the steps just after ten.

“My birthday doesn’t start until ya wake up,” he’d assured her then, ducking down to let her place a decent sized kiss to his forehead.

But Rise hadn’t relented, no, she sat beside him, scrolling through her phone with a bag of chips in her other palm. It’d become a… ritual of sorts. Every birthday since his eighteenth, Rise would spend the night and ensure she was the first to wish him a happy birthday.

At first, it made Kanji uncomfortable. But now he’s not sure what he’d do without her.

Hell, the longer he thought about it, the more cemented Rise was in his life. She was his favorite person to call, favorite person to speak to, she even knew about his hobbies before Yu did, and she accepted him first.

He owed her a lot more than he’d ever be able to thank her for. Kanji traces her face, her blonde highlights in her hair and the friendship bracelet that matches his right around his wrist.

Damn.

“Hey,” he starts, the woman humming a note but not looking over. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Rise splutters, looking up then with wide eyes. “What!?” she squeaks out, setting her phone down onto the table, her cheeks just barely reddened. “Who- Why did you bring that up!?”

He shrugs. “I’m curious,” he answers, crossing his arms over his lap.

Rise furrows her brows, looking him over. “Are you offering?” she asks, “last I checked, you weren’t in the same market as me.”

Kanji rolls his eyes. “No,” he replies, “but I figured you’d have someone.”

There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes, one Kanji’s seen in his own, and his mouth is already moving before she can speak.

“Not ‘cause you’re easy o-or anything like that,” he adds quickly. “You’re just a catch. Pretty. Talented. Funny.”

Her eyes stay wide but the blush on her cheeks darkens, her gaze dropping to her polished nails.

“You really are Moronji.”

“Hey!”

Her laugh means everything to him then, Kanji watching her closely as she raises her hand to brush her long hair behind her ear.

“I don’t really want anyone right now,” she murmurs, softer, “I have friends. I have a really good career… I’ll get to that stuff later. I have so much time.” Her palms fold over her lap, hidden from Kanji’s view, albeit it’s a safe bet that she’s probably digging a nail into her skin.

A nervous habit Kanji had been trying to help her stop.

“Makes sense,” he replies, “I was just wondering. I wasn’t sure if you were hung up on Yu still.”

Rise laughs. An old joke between them both.

“Hey, I told him if he ever gets fed up with Yosuke, he can give me a call,” she teases, winking.

Kanji laughs at that, turning back to the television with a sigh. His gaze raises to the ticking of the clock on the wall, his eyes widening at the sight.

One more minute and Kanji would be twenty.

The thought alone is nearly nauseating yet oddly exciting. His life had vastly improved since he was fifteen despite all the fears and anxiety that still clung to his frame everyday.

He’s not sure he’d recognize himself.

“Happy birthday!”

Kanji jolts with a cry just as he’s met with none other than Rise, her figure colliding into him with a happy shout. He’s practically pushed over and onto the ground, his eyes wide as his head collides with the rug.

“Happy Birthday Kanji-wanji!” she cries out again, dropping down to hug him rather tight. He squeaks, holding onto her with one arm as his face grows warm.

“Gah, you couldn’t have been more gentle?” he grumbles, rubbing her back gently.

“Oh shut up, you’re not that old yet,” Rise replies, peeling off of him with a big smile. “Look at you. My twenty year old best friend!”

He pouts, her smile only growing. “We’re the same age again.”

“Yay!” Rise cries, hugging him back tighter once more.

Kanji leans into the hug with a smile, shutting his eyes as he sits back upright and holds her in a rare, two-armed hug. He squeezes her tight and only lets go when she starts to laugh.

“Now, it’s time for the sake,” she whispers, giggling as she sits upright. “To think, the great Kanji’s first ever drink, and I am privy to the act!”

“Shuddup,” Kanji laughs, shaking his head as he watches her crack open the bottle, eyes trained on her movement before he’s jolted by a chime from his phone.

With wide eyes, Kanji grabs the device, flipping it over and blinking.

He should’ve expected this.

“Who is it?!” Rise asks, pausing the pouring of the drink.

Kanji answers the phone with a small smile. “Hey––”

“Happy Birthday!” two voices explode from the other side, Kanji moving his phone away from his ear with a slight laugh, rolling his eyes at the obvious louder voice. He looks up to Rise, a wide grin on her lips.

“I knew we’d be a minute late!” Yosuke cries, “Yu said he wouldn’t forget!”

“I didn’t forget, you just wouldn’t let me call until you were out of the bathroom,” Yu laughs right back, his voice much closer to the phone. “And that’s beside the point. Happy birthday, Kanji.”

“It’s about time you caught up!”

Kanji’s smile, albeit shy, is rather genuine. “Thanks, you two,” he murmurs, shaking his head, “don’t you both have classes in the mornin’? What’re you doing up so late?”

“We wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” Yu answers, “It’s the big two-oh. We couldn’t be that late.”

Kanji shoots Rise a look, the woman rolling her eyes with a rather big grin on her face. “Yeah, well, I appreciate it, even if you two dorks held out on visitin’ this Christmas.”

“Blame Yu!”

“We’ll be in Inaba during Golden Week,” Yu assures, “Promise. And we’re dragging down Yukiko and Chie. I’m sure you can wrangle Rise too.”

“I can manage,” Kanji assures with a grin. “Thanks you two. Don’t drown in homework.”

“We’ll try!”

With another few jokes and a smile on Kanji’s face, he hangs up the call, setting down his phone and looking to Rise.

She’s already poured the sake, her palms holding her chin. “I was first,” she teases.

“Yeah, yeah you were,” Kanji replies with a small laugh. “Thanks, Rise. For doin’ this.”

Her grin only grows, eyes flickering to the glass ahead of Kanji. “Thank me by taking your first ever drink in front of me,” she smiles, winking at him. “Let’s see how you hold your own in the face of good ol’ sake.”

Kanji grabs the glass with a raise of his brow. “If this shit burns, I’m spitting it out on you.”

Rise raises her glass to him. “Happy birthday, Moronji.”

Their glasses clink and Kanji’s smile is nothing if not natural.

Kanji stares down at the stone memorial with a fidgeting of his hands, palms wrapped tight around the few flowers he holds in his palm- a bouquet he’d grabbed on his way over. It’s nothing overly fancy, just a few lilies, but Kanji never showed up empty handed.

Typically, Kanji would visit every other Sunday with his mother, walking with his palm holding the underside of her elbow and letting her reminisce about memories he’s heard before. Sometimes they walked in silence and stood in silence, more often than not, his mother would recount the events of last week with glee. Back when Kanji was in high school, she’d even brought the few, but decent marks he’d gotten.

Kanji had avoided tagging along for the first five years.

But then visiting went from a rather dreadful chore to just another part of Kanji’s routine- something he looked forward to.

Except today is Friday and he’s a year older than he was last Sunday. And Kanji doesn’t have incense to burn but rather flowers to place and a little more to speak.

“Hey uh, dad,” Kanji starts quietly, staring down at the name engraved into the stone, “uh, I thought- I um, I wanted to come and um, see you. I-I turn twenty today.”

He clamps his mouth shut, shaking his head at the sheer embarrassment and unexplainable feeling curling up into his chest. Usually, his mother did most of the talking.

“It’s been a… almost a decade without you,” Kanji goes on quietly, “and- and I just, I wanted to, y’know, talk to you. Before I really started my day.” He looks down to the flowers in his palms, shaking his head once again. “Sorry, these are for you.”

He places the lilies gently into the flower holder, dusting off a few snowflakes before ensuring they were secured, stepping back and shoving his frigid palms into his coat pockets. He stands in silence, brows furrowed and staring down at the small monument.

It’s quiet. The sky is bright blue despite the chill in the air. The sun’s rays are just barely peeking over the barren trees surrounding the graveyard.

“I-I’ve been workin’ full time, but you already knew that,” Kanji mumbles, kicking the path beneath his boots. “I really like working with Ma. It lets me keep an eye on her without worryin’ too much. She still tries to carry all those boxes of fabrics everywhere even though I keep tellin’ her that’s my job.”

There’s a faint smile on his lips that slowly fades as he furrows his brow, a small sigh leaving his lips.

“I-I’m officially a man now,” Kanji starts quietly, “and… and I know I got lost along the way, growin’ up the way I did. A-And I made a lot of mistakes, I-I made things hard for Ma and never really visited you…” He pauses to clear his throat, shutting his eyes for a beat before opening them up again.

“But I promised myself I wouldn’t ever let that happen again,” he murmurs softly, shoulders square as he nods his head. “I’m a man now. I-I’m taking care of mom and supportin’ the store. Like I should’ve been doin’ from the moment you… you died.”

There’s a breeze. Kanji doesn’t flinch.

“I used to be angry at you, ya know?” he breathes out, his brows furrowed and palms pulled into tight fists within his pockets. “I thought… I knew you didn’t have a choice. But I thought you left anyway. A-And I thought you knew how different I was and you… you hated that.”

Kanji shakes his head with a weak laugh, raising his palm to rub his eyes. “I was a dumb kid, huh?”

He lets the silence linger for another moment before clearing his throat, standing upright and nodding his head once.

“I-I miss ya, dad,” he whispers, “and I wish you were still here. But I promise I’m livin’ everyday as myself. A-And I’m taking care of Ma. You don’t have to worry about us.”

He reaches forward with a hand that trembles, be it due to the cold or his own emotion, Kanji doesn’t really think about it. He places his palm against the frigid stone, thumb tracing the engraved name.

Quieter, Kanji breathes out: “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

He lets the frigid stone bleed into his skin before pulling back, giving the monument a small bow before finally turning away. He makes sure to rub both his eyes as he makes his way past the graves and shrine, the wind echoing with the shifting chimes, before his gaze lands on none other than his very best friend.

Rise stands exactly where he left her, palms in her jacket and a small smile on her lips. Kanji closes the distance, coming to a stop beside her with a nod.

“Thanks for waitin’,” he mumbles.

“Of course,” Rise murmurs right back, her words much softer and eyes tracing his frame. “All set?” she whispers.

Kanji gives her a stiff nod. “Yeah,” he assures. “Thanks.”

Rise’s arm hooks into his, elbows touching as she begins to lead him away. “C’mon,” she calls, “let’s go get some Tofu.”

“Hell yeah,” Kanji replies, grinning right down at her.

Rise smiles up at him and it’s nearly brighter than the sun.

For lunch, Kanji sits across from Rise in the Junes food court with a content smile. He’s got two bowls of food, courtesy of Rise, and is frankly contemplating a third.

Rise’s got her own fancy drink and bowl, her hair braided into two long braids, save for her long blonde bangs.

Kanji had requested his birthday affairs to be rather… small. Rise had obliged with a sigh and a promise that his birthday present would make up for any big parties.

Which, Kanji has yet to be handed.

“So,” he starts, his curiosity at a peak, “what the hell are you hidin’?”

Rise looks up from her milkshake, both palms holding the glass and a grin on her lips. “Nothing,” she teases, taking a sip from the straw. “You’re the one who didn’t want any surprises.”

Kanji furrows his brows together. “I know you,” he replies, “and I know you would rather rewear a concert outfit twice than not get me a present.”

“Hey,” Rise pouts, “that’s not a fair comparison. My job is to always look pretty.”

“You have a good voice too.” Kanji wouldn’t really go on record to admit that he had all her previous CDs (only purchased after they’d gotten close). He still hasn’t told her. She probably already knew.

She rolls her eyes but there’s a grateful smile on her lips as she digs into her purse, pulling out a white envelope.

“You promise not to lose it?” she asks, palm still holding the envelope.

Kanji’s brows stay furrowed. “Not unless you give me a reason to.” She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine. Just- It just better not be anythin’ crazy.”

“It’s less crazy than what I originally planned,” Rise assures, sliding the envelope over the table. “Don’t get too loud.”

Kanji shoots her a look before raising the envelope into his palms, gently ripping the flap over the top. He shoots Rise another look, finding her already grinning in his direction, his heart starting to race.

The envelope is light and rather empty, save for a singular paper, or rather, upon further inspection, a ticket.

He blinks. The words on the paper stare right back.

13/02-16/02 YASOINABA - TOKYO

“Rise.”

“Kanji.”

“What the hell, Rise?”

Her grin is rather audible in her words despite the fact Kanji doesn’t look up from the paper in his palms.

“It’s a train ticket,” Rise answers easily, “to visit me in a few weeks.”

“Wh-What?!” Kanji stammers, looking up at her then with big eyes. “Me- visit you!? In T-Tokyo!?”

Her smile only grows, chin in her palm with a nod. “Yes!” she answers, “in Tokyo! With me, at my flat. It’d be so fun! And y-you could see the city!”

“Tokyo!?”

“Duh!”

Kanji stammers, shaking his head as he sets the ticket down. “R-Rise- Rise, no, I-I can’t. Tokyo- it ain’t for me.”

“How do you know that?” Rise asks, already frowning. “You’ve never been.”

“Do I look like the city-going type?” Kanji asks, his eyes still wide as he shakes his head once again, “no, no– I can’t just drop everythin’––”

“I already spoke to your mom about it,” Rise cuts in, her palms now folded over the table. “And she said she had no problems with you coming– In fact, she thanked me.”

Kanji merely stares.

“Yeah,” Rise goes on with a nod, “she was thankful I was hanging out with you. And bringing you out of your stubborn shell.”

“I’m not in a shell,” Kanji grumbles right back, frowning once more, “and I-I don’t-– you don’t have to hang out with me! I don’t need a whole pity party–”

“It’s not like that, Kanji,” Rise cuts in once again, this time much more gentle. “It’s not about pitying you. She worries. We all do.”

Kanji sets his jaw. “I’m happy here.”

“So, a little vacation wouldn’t hurt,” she replies, “it’s four days. And we’d get to see Yosuke and Yu. It… It would be fun.”

Not just Yosuke and Yu. Kanji stares down at the paper, his heart beating loud in his chest.

“I-I wouldn’t know what to do,” he breathes out, reading the words over and over, “I’ve never left Inaba. A-And I- there’s too many people I don’t know. I-I don’t know the first thing about the city.”

“And that’s why you’ll have me,” Rise assures softly, stretching out to hold his hand in hers, her smile nearly as warm as her palm. “Come on, I won’t leave your side, you know that.”

He furrows his brows, his heart still racing. Rise’s thumb runs over his knuckles gently, a soothing pattern over his soft skin.

He sighs. “I-If I don’t like it, can I come back early?” he asks.

Rise nods immediately. “Of course, I’ll even get you a private taxi.”

“You better,” Kanji mumbles, giving in with another sigh after a moment, his shoulders falling. “I-I– I guess I can give it a try.”

Rise squeals, clapping her hands together as Kanji’s cheeks grow warm. He moves to push his bangs back, already suspicious as she digs into her purse.

“Well, that’s out of the way, so now you get your real present,” she teases, looking back at him with a wink.

“What!?” he cries out, “this- this was expensive! I-I told you I didn’t want––”

“Hush!” Rise exclaims, already giggling to herself as she holds out her palms. “Tada!”

Kanji finds his heart skipping a beat out of pure excitement at what she holds now, his eyes wide. None other than a pair of stud earrings sit in her palm, the bright silver accessory shaped into that of skulls. There’s a pair of black ones as well, ones that would pair with just about everything Kanji wore already.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, already reaching for them, “these- these are sick!”

Rise giggles to herself. “I knew you’d like them!” she cries, doing a little bounce in her seat.

“I love ‘em!” Kanji replies, running his thumb over the metal, “where did you get these?”

“There’s a shop in Tokyo,” Rise answers, smiling, “I’ll take you there when you visit. Everything is covered in skulls and flames and other cool stuff.”

Kanji can’t deny the excited flicker in his chest. “Shit, really?”

“Mhmm,” Rise nods, giving him a wink. “Just another incentive for our trip.”

There’s a half smile on Kanji’s lips as he looks up at her and then back down at the ticket. He can’t help the excited bubble in his chest, the nerves already fraying in his stomach. Leaving Inaba seemed impossible, not that Kanji ever planned on it.

Yet a vacation would be nice. Especially one with Rise.

“Thanks, Rise,” he whispers, not quite brave enough to look up at her. “I… You know me too well.”

“Yeah, I do,” she replies with a laugh, “now hurry up and eat! I’m ready to go!”

Kanji stares down at his phone with a rather large lump in his throat, his heart sitting in his stomach and wide eyes glaring down at his screen.

Shit. How could he forget?

Yukiko had a quick call with him just before noon. Chie sent a rather long text with too many emoji’s only an hour later. Even Naoki had stopped by the shop and dropped by with two cans of beer from his family’s shop.

But there was someone missing.

Incoming Call - Naoto

Shit. Shit shit.

Kanji takes in a deep breath before raising the phone to his ear, his eyes wide as he stares down at the floor of the bedroom.

“Hey?” he calls quietly.

“O-oh, hello, Kanji,” Naoto replies instantly, a note of surprise in his words, “hi, I-I, um, happy birthday!”

Kanji blinks twice, his palm curled into fists. “Oh, y-yeah,” he breathes, clearing his throat. “Thanks. I-I appreciate it.”

There’s an awkward beat. Kanji wants to melt into the ground.

“I um, apologize again,” Naoto murmurs, “for not being able to visit. But… But I hope you understand I-I was truly hoping to. I… I wanted to.”

Kanji’s heart feels about ready to burst out of his chest, his eyes wide as he nods his head. “Y-Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he mumbles, “I-I um, I get you’re busy, I mean. I-I know it would’ve been fun if you were around, but I get it.”

Naoto doesn’t respond and the silence grows. Kanji’s about ready to apologize before he makes out the sound of shuffling.

“Yeah,” Naoto whispers. “Um, but how is your mother? A-And the shop?”

“Good, good,” Kanji answers, standing upright, “uh, I got the weekend off. Per my mom’s insistence. She uh, she wanted me to relax some.”

“You deserve to.”

Kanji’s not quite sure why his face grows warm, a weak chuckle leaving his lips as he messes with the hem of his shirt. “Uh, I hope that case isn’t too crazy.”

Naoto sighs out a note that somehow earns a smile onto Kanji’s lips, the man fiddling with the seams of his jeans. “Not too crazy, no, just a lot of leads with not many constant variables.”

“Ah.” Kanji pretends that his words make sense. “You’ll figure things out. You always do.”

“Thanks, Kanji,” Naoto murmurs, softer, “I hope your birthday was at least enjoyable. And that you do get to relax. I… you were in my thoughts.”

It’s as if all the air in Kanji’s lungs was suddenly removed, his eyes wide as his heart skips a beat. For a second, he’s sure he’s dying, but his fear of ruining things, of being awkward, overrides his momentarily embarrassing reaction.

“I-I had fun,” he assures, nodding his head, “thanks for, y’know, remembering.”

Naoto makes a noise akin to a weak laugh, his voice soft, as he sighs out a note. “I hope so,” he murmurs, “and… I wouldn’t- I made sure to leave myself a note to remember.”

There’s a bloom of warmth in Kanji’s chest as he curls his palm into a rather tight fist, his eyes still wide as a smile slowly grows over his features.

“I wouldn’t expect anythin’ else outta you,” he teases, his smile only growing as Naoto laughs in response.

Another beat. And then a call from downstairs.

“Kanji! Hurry!”

“Shit,” he mumbles instinctively, looking back to the door of his bedroom.

“Oh, I’ve kept you long enough,” Naoto murmurs then, clearing his throat. “I need to get back. B-But it was nice speaking to you. Again.”

“Y-Yeah, same here,” Kanji mumbles right back, “you uh, you know where to find me.”

“I do,” Naoto replies instantly, “Happy Birthday, Kanji.”

With a murmured goodbye and a beat of silence, Kanji takes a moment to gather his racing heart and anxious nerves, to still his blooming happiness.

Damn. If just hearing his voice managed to render him like this, Kanji’s not even sure how he’ll survive ever seeing the man again.

Kanji shakes his head, jolting only when his name rings out loud from below once again.

“Comin’!” Kanji yells back, already making his way out of the room and down the steps of his home, skipping the last few and nearly running into Rise.

“Someone’s at the door for you!” she snaps, albeit the smile on her face is genuine as she shoves him forward, “go!”

Kanji stammers but continues to the foyer of the store, his eyes wide and scanning before locking onto the much shorter, brighter, presence in the room.

“Kanji!”

He only has a second to really steel his legs as he’s enveloped into a heavy, strong embrace, a squeak leaving his lips as he stares down at the bright blue eyes that stare right back.

“T-Teddie!?” he cries out.

“Teddie!” the man repeats, squeezing Kanji even tighter and hiding his face in Kanji’s chest. “Happy Birthday, you big, adorable, cuddly––”

“Okay! Okay!” Kanji squeaks out, “you’re gonna snap my spine!”

The shorter man leans back with a sheepish giggle, his bright eyes locking up onto Kanji’s as he pats his sides. He’s aged a little, or at least changed his appearance to look as such, faint freckles now over his nose- marks that look rather similar to Yosuke’s.

His brother, in a sense.

“What the hell are you doin’ out here?” Kanji asks, “I-I didn’t even think you were in the country!”

Teddie grins wide. “I actually just got here!” he answers, “I haven’t even visited Yosuke yet! I came straight to you!”

Kanji’s eyes stay wide as he blinks down at the smaller man. “What- why?!”

“For your birthday, silly!” Teddie squeals before squeezing Kanji’s sides, “I wasn’t going to miss your big day! Not for anything! The thought alone is unbearable.”

The bear puns, even nearly half a decade later, haven’t lamented.

“Oh,” Kanji mumbles, “shit, well, thanks man.”

“Of course!” Teddie grins, “now, all birthday’s have a cake––”

“And I made sure to leave you a slice,” Rise sounds out then with a laugh, “c’mon goofball. It’s Matcha.”

Teddie’s smile is nearly as bright as his eyes. “Yippee!” he cries, both arms now wrapped around the pair, “and don’t think I came empty handed, Kanji! I got you the perfect gift!”

That was never a good sign. “Wh-What!? What is it!? It-It better not be another live animal!”

Teddie and Rise laugh in unison, Kanji smiling down at them both with a rather full heart.

Kanji sits beside his mother, just on the edge of her bed with his legs crossed underneath him. She’s busy finishing up the last line of stitches in what would be a new scarf. He watches carefully and when their gazes meet, smiles.

“My beautiful boy,” she murmurs, giving him an aged smile. “You’ve gotten so big.”

“I’ve always been big,” Kanji mumbles back, “I was as tall as you when I was nine.”

She rolls her eyes, setting down her knitting needles in favor of pinching his thigh, Kanji snickering as he pulls away. Her palm lands on his thigh as he settles, gently rubbing the fabric of his pants as she sighs.

Kanji watches her aged hand move against him, eyes tracing each wrinkle and aged curve of her skin. A bracelet rests just past her wrist, nearly hidden by her long sleeve nightgown. Kanji’s heard the story of its existence more times than he can count.

“I visited dad earlier today,” Kanji murmurs quietly then.

“Oh?” she murmurs back, “you don’t usually go without me.”

He nods his head, fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants. “I wanted to go alone,” he mumbles, “now that I’m a man and all.  I thought… thought it’d be good to have some guy time.”

His mother laughs softly, patting his leg. “You’ve been a man since the moment he passed,” she assures, “yes, even when you were a little bit of a handful, you were still a man.”

Kanji frowns. “I was a real shithead, huh?”

“Was?”

Kanji looks up as she laughs, her palm raising off his leg to hold the side of his face.

“You’ve made me the proudest mother in all of Inaba,” she assures softly, patting his cheek, “and you always have been my little star. Even when surrounded by darkness, you were my light.”

“Ma,” Kanji groans, weak of any real fight as his eyes sting, “c’mon. It’s too late to get this sappy.”

She hums a note before reaching to pull Kanji closer, her arms wrapped around his shoulders in a rare, level hug. She maneuvers his sea of black and blonde hair under her chin, Kanji’s face hidden in her neck. His spine aches and his mom’s frame is too small to really wrap his arms around her, but Kanji holds on tight anyway.

“I love you,” she murmurs, “even if you don’t let me give you kisses anymore.”

Kanji groans once more, his eyes screwed shut. He leans into her hold, even as she places a kiss into his hair, bunching up her nightgown in his palm.

“Love ya too, Ma,” he mumbles, sniffling once.

His mother hums another note as she holds him close.

It’s a dreary, cloudy day when Rise leaves, heavy clouds hanging low in the sky. At the very least, there’s no threat of snow to delay the four hour drive back, but Rise looks reluctant all the same.

She stands beside Kanji on the sidewalk just outside the train station, uncaring for the sleek black car waiting for her.

Kanji keeps his hands in his coat pockets.

“I’ll see ya in three weeks,” he mumbles, kicking her shin gently with the tip of his boot. “Don’t look all sad.”

She pouts. “I always think I’ve overbooked my stay here and yet every time, leaving makes me miserable.”

Kanji frowns. “Do you… is being an idol gettin’ to be too much?”

Rise sighs, her eyes searching the treeline. “No,” she murmurs, “it’s… I like being an idol. I love it. But I also…”

The words hang heavy in the air. Kanji can’t quite meet her gaze.

“Do you promise to tell me if anything changes?” Rise asks, stepping closer to him with big eyes.

“Wh-what?” Kanji stammers.

“Between you and Naoto,” she states with a nod. “I don’t want to have to find out weeks after something. And I’m not going to let him break your heart again.”

Kanji’s face is rather warm and no doubt pink. “Rise–”

“Pinky promise,” she orders, finger raised up at him, “you’ll keep me in the loop.”

There’s a beat. Kanji knows better than to deny the woman of a pinky promise. “Fine,” he grumbles, “I’ll text you.”

“You better.”

Kanji stares down at her, watching as she looks to her chauffeur once more. There’s a line between her brows and something on her face that makes Kanji’s stomach twist.

“Hey,” he calls, earning her gaze. “If you ever need an escape, you know where to go.”

Her smile is small, genuine, and manages to make Kanji’s stomach twist into knots. “I do, you big sap,” she teases. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll––”

“I know you’ll be fine,” Kanji cuts in, “but that don’t mean I won’t be worryin’ anyway.” He gives her a singular nod, palms curled into his jacket.

Rise sighs softly, finally stepping forward. She doesn’t wrap her arms around him, instead just setting her forehead down onto his chest. Kanji pulls her in anyway.

“I know,” he mumbles, despite his embarrassment. “I’ll miss ya too. There. I said it first.”

She chuckles weakly. Kanji squeezes her tighter. “C’mon, it’s cold. Get back to your high rise and turn on that electric fireplace.”

Rise shifts to put her chin down onto his chest, smiling up at him, blonde bangs cradling her face. Kanji moves to shift a few locks behind her ear, his palm naturally holding her jaw.

“We’re going to have a blast when you visit,” she murmurs, “just you wait.”

Kanji pats her face with a shake of his head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself now,” he starts.

Rise smiles back, her arms finally raising as she jumps up and wraps her arms around his neck, yanking him down into a hug. His cry is ignored as she squeezes him with all her might, holding on tight.

Kanji makes sure to pat her back. “I’ll see you on the big screens,” he murmurs, “go make me proud.”

Rise leans back with a grin, giving him a peace sign as she winks. “Only for my number one fan,” she teases.

Kanji laughs and despite the ache in his chest, he knows they’ll be just fine.